By John J. Miller
Thursday, May 14, 2020
You can’t choose your crisis: As an Army chopper pilot in
Iraq, John James said on May 7, “I didn’t get to pick which call I would take,
whether I would take a troops-in-contact call or whether I would take a
point-of-origin rocket-attack call. I had to figure out how to do both.” In an
online interview with Rick Loughery of the Young Republicans National
Federation, James called it good training for confronting the COVID-19
pandemic: “We have a dual obligation,” he said, to “flatten the COVID curve
without flatlining our economy.”
As a GOP Senate candidate from Michigan, James refers to
his military career at almost every opportunity. An op-ed he wrote in the Detroit
News on May 5 carried this headline: “Leaders Should Learn These 3 Rules
from West Point.” His campaign’s logo features an Apache attack helicopter in
its background. “I don’t want to go to Washington,” he said on February 5,
before the coronavirus forced him to suspend public appearances. “I want to go
to the swamp about as much as I wanted to go to the desert.”
He really does want to go to Washington, of course—he’s
running for the Senate for the second time in two years—but his audience of
Livingston County Republicans that evening seemed to appreciate the expression
of modesty. Gathered at a lakeside country club about halfway between Detroit
and Lansing, just a couple of hours after the Senate acquitted President Trump
in his impeachment trial, they listened as James roamed around a podium and,
with the fluency of someone delivering a TED Talk, made the case for his
candidacy. James mentioned the importance of the Constitution, the value of
free speech, and the deficiencies of his opponent, Democratic senator Gary
Peters. His lines were polished but also included moments of improvisation, as
when he likened “Medicare for All” to “outsourcing our health insurance to
people who can’t get a caucus right.” This was a jab at Iowa Democrats, whose
bungled vote-counting had dominated the news just a day earlier. James didn’t
mention Trump by name at all and brought him up only at the very end, with a
veiled reference to the acquittal that turned out to be his biggest applause
line of the evening: “I look forward to working with our president in his
second term.”
If Trump wins a second term, he’ll probably have to carry
Michigan in 2020 much as he did in 2016, when he squeaked out a surprise
victory by a little more than 10,000 votes, or about two-tenths of a percentage
point. James knows that his contest also could result in a photo finish. More
than 25 years have passed since Michiganders elected a Republican to the
Senate. The last failed candidate was James himself, who took on Democratic
incumbent Debbie Stabenow in 2018. His loss was entirely predictable during a strong
year for Democrats. Yet he outperformed every other Michigan Republican who
sought a statewide office, and his loss, by less than seven percentage points,
was much more respectable than the blowouts suffered by Stabenow’s previous
challengers. “His run was impressive,” says John Engler, Michigan’s former
Republican governor, “especially because he started from nowhere.” In the
aftermath, James found himself in an unusual position: The setback had
strengthened rather than weakened him, or at least it had convinced a lot of
Republicans both in and out of Michigan that he ought to try again.
With the exception of Alabama, where voters probably will
reverse 2017’s fluke election of Democrat Doug Jones, Michigan represents the
best chance for a Republican Senate candidate to beat a Democratic incumbent in
2020. Polls already suggest a tight race, and James is sure to receive more
attention and support than he did last time. “We’ll be there to push John
across the finish line,” says Senator Todd Young of Indiana, who chairs the
National Republican Senatorial Committee. Flipping a Democratic seat may be
reward enough for many Republicans, but the stakes in Michigan are in fact a
lot higher: James could become the GOP’s next young superstar.
That’s partly because John Edward James, who turns 39 in
June, is a rare political type: an African-American Republican. His
great-great-grandfather was born a slave in Mississippi, and he likes to
chronicle a brief family history: “In four generations, we’ve gone from a slave
to a sharecropper to a mason to a truck driver and now potentially to a
senator. That is absolutely remarkable, not just for our family but for our
country.” His piece of the story began in 1981, when James was born in
Southfield, Mich. He grew up mostly in Detroit, and although he was raised
Baptist, he went to high school at Brother Rice, an all-boys Catholic school in
Bloomfield Hills. (Today, he attends a nondenominational church.)
As a teenager, he didn’t think much about politics. His
parents were Democrats, but he dated a girl who belonged to the Young
Republicans of Oakland County. So James attended their meetings, too. As he
listened to members talk about personal responsibility, a culture of life, and
defending the Constitution, he kept thinking: “That makes sense to me.” He
didn’t become a Republican then, he says, but “it planted a seed.”
Around the same time, he fell under the influence of Joe
Anderson, a business friend of his father’s. Anderson had gone to West Point
and then served in Vietnam, where he had become the subject of a French
documentary, The Anderson Platoon, which won Best Documentary at the
40th Academy Awards in 1968. He encouraged James to take a look at the military
academy. “The opportunity to serve others, to fight for this country,” says
James, “I consider it a down payment on the debt that I owe my ancestors for
the sacrifices they made for my freedom.”
James wasn’t quite ready for West Point, so he went to
its preparatory school, then located in New Jersey. A year later, he
matriculated as a plebe at the famous campus beside the Hudson River. On 9/11,
when he was a sophomore, his economics instructor canceled the morning’s
lecture and turned on the television: “There are some days you’re reminded why
you’re here,” he said, as the Twin Towers collapsed. The statement made an
impression on James: “America was under attack—and Americans would be looking
to us to lead their children into battle and most importantly to bring them
back. That’s very, very sobering.”
***
Following his graduation in 2004, James went to flight
school and then Ranger school. In 2007, he deployed to Iraq. For the next 15
months, he flew more than 750 combat hours, mostly as a co-pilot/gunner in
AH-64 Apaches. The job required him to keep track of radio transmissions,
giving him a handy skill: “I can listen to four things at one time,” he says.
“It drives my wife insane: When I’m watching the television and the kids are
talking and she’s talking, she’ll ask ‘What did I just say?’ and I’ll rattle
off the last sentence.” He met her on Match.com when he was posted to an
enlistment center in Lansing. Today, they have three sons and live in
Farmington Hills, a suburb of Detroit.
When James retired from the Army, he joined the company
that his father had started in 1971 with a single truck that hauled beer
between Detroit and Chicago. Over the years, it had grown into a large firm
that managed supply chains, from storage and assembly to exporting and more.
The son is now the president of James International Group, working from a
warehouse headquarters in Detroit about a mile from the Ambassador Bridge, the
only place in the world where it’s possible to drive due south to Canada.
Leading a big company probably would have been enough to
occupy him for the rest of his career—but James says that he was haunted by
visions of Detroit during the Great Recession. “I was in Iraq, and I saw
pictures of homes that looked worse than the combat zone I was flying in,” he
says. “I promised that when I came back, I would do everything I could to
help.” At first, he focused on his business and the jobs it supported. Yet he
wanted to do more: “There are places in Detroit that have not changed since I
was a little boy,” he says. He points to an incident from a night associated
with vandalism and arson, just before Halloween. “I remember specifically a
building that was burned on Devil’s Night when I was a kid. I remember watching
it burn. That building is still there today. Nothing has changed. That is
unacceptable.”
He became involved in civic and veterans’ groups and got
to know people in the circle of Rick Snyder, a Republican who was Michigan’s
governor before Gretchen Whitmer, the current Democratic incumbent. One day,
James was doing laundry while his wife and kids were out. “Something knocked me
to my knees,” he says. “I remember feeling an overwhelming sense that I wasn’t
doing what I was supposed to do.” He resolved to look for new opportunities.
Not long after, he says, several Republicans approached him about running for
the Senate in 2018. He announced his candidacy and won a contested primary, but
his prospects looked bleak. His campaign was broke. Nationally, Democrats were
preparing to rack up wins in midterm races. In Michigan, a recreational-pot ballot
proposal was boosting turnout among younger and more liberal voters. Around
Labor Day, James trailed Senator Stabenow in the polls by more than 20
percentage points. By the time he lost two months later, however, he had
whittled this down to 6.5 points. “It’s remarkable that he did as well as he
did,” says Steve Mitchell, a longtime pollster in the state.
In the months that followed, it seemed as if everyone had
a plan for James. His name came up as a possible successor to Nikki Haley as
U.S. ambassador to the United Nations. There was talk about a run for Congress
from suburban Detroit. Last June, however, James announced for the Senate. The
coronavirus has delayed a formal kickoff event and forced him to hunker down in
his home, but he lacks a significant primary opponent, allowing him to focus on
November. He knows he has lost at least one advantage: “This time, I’m not
going to sneak up on anybody.”
His opponent is Gary Peters, a former House
representative who won election to the Senate in 2014. Incumbent senators
rarely lose, but they tend to be most vulnerable when they first seek
reelection. Peters has shown signs of weakness. According to a poll last year
by Morning Consult, more than a third of Michigan voters don’t even know who he
is, making him the country’s most unknown senator. This will give James a
special opportunity to define his foe, tying him to the controversial proposals
of the most radical Democrats. “The Green New Deal would absolutely decimate
Michigan’s economy,” he says. “Medicare for All is a terrible idea. We can
barely pay for Medicare for some.” He warns about how a government takeover
would rattle the lives of Michigan’s union workers: “They have probably the
best health care in the world, duly negotiated—and making private health care
illegal would take that away.”
In most respects, James is a mainstream conservative:
He’s pro-life, supports gun rights, talks up border security, calls for
regulatory rollback, and grumbles about trillion-dollar budget deficits and the
mounting national debt. “Our No. 1 economic threat, national-security threat,
and civil-rights threat is the educational system in this country,” he says.
“We have failed our children for generations.” He supports school choice and
sits on the board of the Jalen Rose Leadership Academy, a public charter school
in Detroit. He warns about risks to free speech: “Liberal violence is construed
as speech, and conservative speech is construed as violence.”
***
James says that trade disputes have hurt his company’s revenues,
but he backs the president’s approach. USMCA—the North American trade agreement
approved by Congress in January—is “not a perfect deal, but it’s much better
than what we had.” He also thinks the time has come to confront China over its
trade policies as well as its provocations in the South China Sea. “If we don’t
fight this conflict with soybeans now, we’ll fight it with bullets later.”
Shortly after the coronavirus pandemic shut down Michigan in March, he slammed
Beijing in an op-ed for the Detroit News: “The world must socially
distance itself from the Chinese Communist Party.” He seeks to limit other
ongoing engagements: “At some point, someone’s going to have to admit that
being at war for 20 years is unacceptable, and we need to come up immediately
with a game plan to extricate the United States from these never-ending wars,”
he says. “We need to start rebuilding at home.”
Polls of likely voters have shown him trailing Peters by
four to seven points. That puts him within striking distance, well ahead of
Election Day. In addition, James started to outraise Peters in the second half
of last year, and he has kept it up through the first quarter of 2020. He’ll
surrender a portion of this, as he has promised to donate 5 percent of all
fundraising revenues to Michigan charities—his campaign recently gave $250,000
to coronavirus relief in Michigan—but he insists he’ll win the money race. “We
will be better-funded.”
The typical strategy for Michigan Republicans is to pile
up votes in Grand Rapids and the western part of the state, carry the suburbs
around Detroit, and write off Detroit and its heavily black population. James,
of course, isn’t a regular Republican. “I’m a new kind of Republican who can
bring about a future that is inclusive, positive, and diverse,” he says. “I was
raised by Democrats, and my values haven’t changed. I’m not sure my dad knew I
was a Republican until I said I was running for office.” If James can capture
as little as 15 or even 20 percent of the black vote, he could be unstoppable.
He’ll have a partner in the president, who not only wants to win Michigan again
but also hopes to sway more black voters than he did last time, when exit polls
suggest he received only 8 percent, around the paltry rate of recent Republican
presidential candidates.
“I feel like both parties have failed the American people
and black people in particular,” says James. “The Democratic Party has taken
black people for granted and the Republican Party hasn’t even tried.” He has a
message for everyone: “I have experiences that can bring us together. I was
raised by people who have seen their uncles swing from trees. I’ve been pulled over
and feared for my life. But I’ve also been an officer on patrol in areas with
folks who’d just as soon see me dead. I understand what officers feel when they
put their lives on the line to protect people and are underappreciated.”
John James speaks these words with passion and authority.
His most persuasive line, however, is color-blind: “If you keep sending the
same people back to Washington, nothing is going to change.”
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