Runoff candidates brought humor, family stories and final appeals to the 4th District Republican Club, showing that political competition does not have to erase Republican friendship and fellowship.
South Carolina Republicans have survived months of campaign speeches, political mailers, television advertisements, and enough roadside signs to guide travelers across the state without a map. The primary is over, the runoff is Tuesday, and nearly everyone appears ready for a winner, including the candidates themselves.
Still, the final 4th District Republican Club gathering before the runoff showed that opposing candidates and their supporters can compete for votes without forgetting how to laugh together. The jam-packed room overlooking the Greenville skyline included elected officials from all levels of government, candidates and their campaign workers, spouses, club members, and several people who have probably memorized the candidates’ speeches by now. The candidates made their cases, traded some friendly teasing, and showed that a runoff campaign can still leave room for good humor and camaraderie.
The Family Caucus Takes the Stage
The morning began as 98.9 WORD talk radio host Joey Hudson opened the meeting and recognized the South Carolina House Family Caucus. Family Caucus member and State Rep. Mike Burns recalled that Rep. Bill Chumley first proposed the caucus. Burns later shared the idea with Rep. John McCravy, who returned about 10 days later with the paperwork completed and membership recruitment underway.
Burns then invited McCravy to “brag on himself.” McCravy said he was the last person he intended to brag on and instead praised the lawmakers standing with him.
Alan Wilson Applies for the Job
President of the 4th District Republican Club Nate Leupp introduced the first speaker, South Carolina Attorney General and gubernatorial candidate Alan Wilson, who acknowledged the obvious: it had been a long campaign. Wilson said the journey had lasted more than a year, sometimes feeling like 10 years and at other times like 10 days. For voters buried in mailers, commercials, and campaign messages, time may have stopped altogether.
Wilson said voters were tired of political advertisements, negative campaigning, and mailboxes filled with literature. He also welcomed Republicans who had supported candidates no longer in the race, telling them there was a place for them in his campaign.
His most memorable line came when he explained the office he was seeking. “I’m not running to be your pastor. I’m not running to be your savior. Someone else has those jobs,” Wilson said. “But I am running to be your governor.”
Wilson said the governor’s office belongs to the people of South Carolina, not the person occupying it. He then presented the election in familiar terms by asking voters to hire him. In that sense, it may be the only job interview in which an applicant spends more than a year traveling the state while roadside signs constantly remind him that several others want the same job.
David Stumbo Misplaces the Dress Code
Solicitor and attorney general candidate David Stumbo arrived without his suit jacket. Instead of pretending no one noticed, he turned the missing jacket into his opening story.
Stumbo said he and his wife, Vanessa, had returned home after midnight following a debate in Florence. He gave her the morning off and traveled to Greenville alone. That is apparently where the campaign organization broke down.
Without Vanessa, whom he called the “real MVP” of the campaign, Stumbo left his suit jacket hanging on the door. He apologized for appearing underdressed at the City Club, though the audience appeared willing to overlook the violation.
Stumbo also drew laughter when he noted that he did not have an airplane to carry him around South Carolina like his opponent, so he and his wife had driven home after the debate. The story allowed Stumbo to make several campaign points while explaining his wardrobe. He had been debating late, driving across the state, continuing his work as solicitor, and learning that giving his wife the morning off came with consequences. His jacket had stayed home. The candidate had not.
Danny Ford Has Been Famous Since Birth
Agriculture commissioner candidate Danny Ford did not have to search far for a memorable introduction. His father is Clemson coaching legend Danny Ford.
With a touch of self-deprecating humor, the younger Ford told the audience that he had lived in the public eye for 40 years and had made the front page of a newspaper on the day he was born. The headline, as he remembered it, was simple: “That’s Danny Ford’s son.”
Most political candidates spend years developing name recognition. Ford arrived at the hospital with it.
He acknowledged that his father was a difficult act to follow and used football history to discuss leadership, determination and overcoming long odds. He recalled that his father became a national championship coach at age 33 after many people doubted him.
Ford also spoke about the strain that negative campaigning can place on candidates and their families. Even so, he repeatedly returned to football, hard work and changing the game. For Danny Ford, politics may be one of the few professions where being compared with a football coach actually lowers the pressure.
Cody Simpson Protects the Meaning of “Farm”
Agriculture commissioner candidate Cody Simpson brought the vocabulary of the farm directly into the political room. Simpson said he had served as President Donald Trump’s state executive director for the Farm Service Agency until Trump publicly said, “Run, Cody, run.”
“So here I am,” Simpson said, adding that he had been running ever since. Campaigning for statewide office does involve considerable running, although much of it appears to take place inside a vehicle.
Simpson’s best line came while discussing agricultural land being converted into housing developments, data centers and solar facilities. “I don’t call them solar farms,” Simpson said, “because there’s not a thing that grows out there.”
Simpson was not finished with the farm lessons. Referring to the debate over whether some people can define the difference between a man and a woman, he suggested sending anyone still confused to the farm to try milking a bull. The audience understood the distinction and the agricultural lesson immediately, with laughter and applause.
It was a policy argument delivered like a farmer correcting someone who had wandered too far from the dictionary. Simpson also described his relationships as reaching “from the farmhouse to the State House all the way to the White House.” It was a three-stop political route, and the farmhouse came first.
Pamela Evette Enjoys a Rare Morning at Home in the Upstate
Lt. Gov. and gubernatorial candidate Pamela Evette began by mentioning a campaign experience that probably sounded luxurious to every candidate in the room. She had awakened in her own bed that morning.
Evette joked that younger people eventually begin sounding like their parents, then recalled one of her father’s favorite lessons: “Don’t complain about something if you’re not willing to fix it.” She said that advice helped move her from criticizing government as a business owner to becoming involved in public service.
Evette said she had started her business in a home office and grown it into a national company. When she asked Gov. Henry McMaster why he wanted her as his running mate, she said he told her he wanted a businessperson, a mother and someone who understood what it meant to sign the front of a paycheck.
When McMaster first asked her to come to Columbia, Evette assumed he wanted to appoint her to a board or commission. Her husband gave her simple instructions: “Whatever he asks you, just say no.” The plan lasted until McMaster asked her to run for lieutenant governor.
And guess what? That’s right. She said yes.
Joey Hudson Recognizes the Man Behind the Chairs
At the conclusion of the program, Hudson offered special recognition to Leupp, describing him as one of the club’s hardest-working members. Hudson noted that Leupp regularly arrives early to arrange the chairs and stays afterward to put them away. He also recalled Leupp helping prepare for the Freedom Farm Fest several days before the event.
Political gatherings usually reserve their greatest applause for the people whose names appear on the ballot. This time, some of it went to the man arranging the room.
That recognition carried an important point beneath the humor. Candidates may receive the headlines, but local political organizations depend on volunteers who open doors, move furniture, check microphones, greet guests and stay after the room empties. Democracy requires informed voters. Political breakfasts also require chairs.
Rivals for Now, Republicans After Tuesday
The candidates did not pretend there were no differences between them. Each asked for votes and offered reasons voters should trust them with public office. Some drew contrasts with their opponents. Others discussed endorsements, experience, records and personal history. All speakers gave the people filling those chairs a few laughs along the way.
The competition was real, but the morning showed that a runoff does not have to become a permanent family feud. Wilson welcomed supporters of former opponents. Stumbo credited his wife. Ford discussed the influence of his father and his concern for his family. Simpson connected agriculture to the family table. Evette described the lesson she learned from her father and the advice she ignored from her husband.
Burns and McCravy recognized their fellow legislators. Leupp introduced the candidates and managed the program. Hudson closed the meeting by thanking those who participated and recognizing the volunteer work behind the event.
For one morning, the candidates were not merely names on signs or faces in advertisements. They were people telling stories, making jokes, forgetting jackets, quoting parents, discussing football, humorously defending the meaning of the word “farm” and asking voters to return to the polls one more time.
One More Trip to the Polls
Tuesday’s runoff will produce winners and leave other candidates disappointed. It will also bring an end to this stage of the campaign, which may be welcome news to voters, candidates, spouses, postal carriers and anyone living beside a crowded stretch of campaign signs. Those campaign signs will eventually come down, although several will probably remain long enough to qualify as historical markers.
Republicans will then face the usual task of coming back together around the candidates selected by Republican voters. That does not require forgetting the differences debated during the campaign. It does require remembering that today’s opponent may become tomorrow’s officeholder, supporter, adviser, volunteer or fellow club member.
The candidates competed for serious offices and discussed serious responsibilities, but the laughter in the room offered its own reminder. Conservative Republicans can disagree, campaign hard, survive a primary and head into a runoff while still sitting down together for breakfast, high above the Greenville skyline, with food from a farm that actually grows something.
