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As you read this article, Proposition 13, the $15 billion school-construction bond, either failed by a historically wide margin, or it didn’t.

Likewise, Bernie Sanders bulldozed the competition, beating out California’s second-place Democratic finisher, Joe Biden, by hundreds of thousands of votes. Or he didn’t.

And turnout might have been historically high—who knows? 

Like Schrodinger’s Cat, the ambiguously fated feline in the physicist’s thought experiment who is both alive and dead simultaneously, California election results currently exist in a kind of quantum state of uncertainty. Hundreds of thousands—or is it millions?—of ballots remain to be counted.

“California has election month, not election day,” said Mike Young, political director at the California League of Conservation Voters. So strap in.

Why the delay? California’s votes now arrive and get tallied in slow motion. That’s largely by design. (Not by design: Thousands of voters more were apparently stymied by long lines and administrative gridlock across Los Angeles County’s new vote centers.) The state opts to make it very easy for Californians to vote, allowing them to register to vote or change their party registration on Election Day. And it permits any voter for any reason to mail in a ballot postmarked as late as Election Day, and have it counted so long as it arrives within three days.

We’re now in that window, during which an untold number of mail ballots are on their way to county registrars.

So, no, we really don’t know what most of the results are.

We don’t even know how many ballots still have to be counted, which would at least allow us to say how little we know about what the results are.

“This is not like Iowa, where there was pandemonium,” said Young, referring to the bug-ridden reporting process after the Iowa caucuses. “That’s a lot of room for improvement on the vote centers, there’s no doubt about that. But the election results are going to take time and that’s California’s process.”

The California process is a particular source of anxiety for political reporters who, in the days immediately following election night, invariably run out of ways to say “it’s too soon to say for sure” and “we’ll just have to wait and see.”

An example: On Wednesday, about 24 hours after the polls closed, the Prop 13 school bond was down 56 to 44 percent— a 593,013 vote deficit. 

To be clear, that’s a big gap. Could the remaining votes close it? We have no idea, in part because we don’t know how many ballots remain uncounted.

We may know at least that much soon. Counties are required to begin publishing their estimates of “unprocessed ballots” at the end of day Thursday (March 5). The estimates are rough (some county offices use scales to measure the stacks of paper ballots), and even then, many more votes that were postmarked at the last minute will continue to pour in. 

After the first uncounted ballot estimates were published after 2016 and 2018 primaries, roughly 35 percent remained to be tallied. This year, with so many voters casting their ballots by mail and registering to vote on Election Day, the share could be significantly higher, said Paul Mitchell of Political Data Inc.

With an emphasis on “could be.”

What we can say about these yet-to-be-counted ballots, said Mitchell, is that they tend to come from younger, lower income, non-white voters, which almost certainly means more Democrats. Thus, a good rule of thumb: in a clear Democrat versus Republican race, expect the results between their current estimates and their certification in mid-April to move reliably into the Democratic column.

It’s a pattern we saw in the aftermath of the 2018 midterms when a number of contested congressional races initially seemed to favor the Republican candidate only to creep steadily leftward as more results came in.

That isn’t a conspiracy; it’s just late voters having their ballots counted.

“An older, Republican homeowner who has been voting in every election for decades doesn’t have to go to a same-day registration or mail their ballot in at the last minute,” said Mitchell.

Another unique dynamic this year: Moderate voters in the Democratic presidential primary may have gone down to the wire before deciding which presidential candidate to support. That surge of ballots may still be on the way.

With an emphasis on “may be.”

And while there is some evidence that participation rates were high, it’s still far too early for confident assertions about turnout in California.

That’s the point that Chief Deputy Secretary of State James Schwab was perhaps trying to make when he published this tweet Wednesday: “Turnout in the California Presidential primary will be around.”

No, a word is not missing. Which is yet another way to say, “We’ll just have to wait and see.”

CalMatters.org is a nonprofit, nonpartisan media venture explaining California policies and politics.

Published in Politics

Kathy Garcia is not your typical Republican candidate for the California Senate.

For one thing, she only just joined the GOP. A lifelong Democrat, she won election as a Stockton school board member with the backing of the county Democratic party. She changed her affiliation to Republican in June 2019, six months before the deadline to enter the Senate race.

She said the idea to run—under the banner of a party she’d opposed most of her adult life—was suggested to her by a Stockton lawyer and powerbroker who, records show, has helped fund the campaign of another candidate in the race. And that candidate, a moderate Democrat, incidentally stands a better chance if the Republican vote is divided.

The 80-year-old Garcia, asked by CalMatters why she’s running under the GOP label, gave a series of distinctly un-Republican explanations.

“I just decided I was going to try something new. And not because I like Trump,” she said, before making a retching noise. As for the Republicans that are running, she said, “I want to just put them under the bus.”

Garcia might get her wish.

That’s thanks to California’s unique “top two” election system, in which all candidates—regardless of party affiliation—are listed together on the same ballot in the first round “primary.” Only the first- and second-place winners on March 3 move on to the general election Nov. 3, also regardless of party affiliation. The race for state Senate in this Central Valley district is the latest oddball illustration of how the state’s decade-old electoral attempt at reform can distort the typical logic of campaigning, confuse voters and lead to mind-bending results.

Under the top two system, Garcia’s unlikely candidacy as a Republican is—paradoxically—most likely to benefit moderate Democrat and Modesto Councilman Mani Grewal. By running as a Republican along with another long-shot GOP candidate, Jim Ridenour, Garcia could split the local GOP vote three ways. If so, that could very well leave the two Democratic contenders—Grewal and Assemblywoman Susan Eggman—with the top two winning spots.

And it would leave the most viable Republican candidate running, Stockton Councilman Jesús Andrade, who has been endorsed by the state party, flattened under that proverbial bus. 

Asked if her motivation was to undermine Andrade, Garcia demurred: “I can’t come out and say that.”

Both she and Grewal say they aren’t working together. The Andrade campaign isn’t buying it.

“It’s shameful that Democrat Mani Grewal would plant a Bernie Sanders-supporting, fake Republican like Kathy Garcia in this Senate race to split the Republican vote,” said Andrade consultant Steve Presson. “Republican Jim Ridenour is also a Grewal plant whose candidacy is solely to help Grewal make the top two general election run-off. These Nixonian dirty tricks are just deplorable. Central Valley voters deserve better.”

Grewal called that a “ridiculous accusation.”

The top two system was intended to strip political parties of their influence over the candidate-selection process, making California elections less prone to backroom dealing and polarization. The jury is still out as to whether the system actually has pushed state politics toward the ideological center, as promised. But 10 years into California’s experiment with electoral “reform,” an unintended side effect has emerged: Political insiders have figured out how to game the top two—or, at the very least, how to accuse other campaigns of doing so to muddy the political waters.

But the mere fact that any of this is in doubt is an artifact of the state’s peculiar election system, said Paul Mitchell, vice president of Political Data, Inc., and frequent critic of the top-two system.

“Nobody would have questioned (Garcia’s candidacy) under the old system,” he said. The top two, he said, “encourages not only this manipulative strategy, but it also makes the public question a manipulative strategy where maybe there isn’t one.”

Grewal said allegations of coordination between his campaign and any other candidate in the race are “conspiracy theories” and “a cry for some free media” by the Andrade campaign.

“The first time I met Kathy Garcia was at The Modesto Bee forum” on Jan. 14, he said. “I know Jim Ridenour, and the last time, he endorsed me in my campaign. I would have liked his endorsement this time.”

In a follow up conversation, Garcia, who supported New Jersey Democratic Sen. Cory Booker for president, insisted that her choice to run was not motivated by her antipathy towards the Republicans, despite her earlier comments.

“Look at the people running as a Democrat,” she said. “Everybody is either an incumbent or has a big following or something. So here I am.”

She added that the idea to change parties and run for office as a Republican first came from Stockton lawyer and political operative N. Allen Sawyer, whom she described as “kind of my campaign manager.”

In an email, Sawyer explained that he encouraged Garcia to run as a Republican, because the “San Joaquin County Democratic Party is rigged and controlled by insiders. … I think as a moderate, she has a better chance of being treated fairly as a Republican.”

Last year, prior to Garcia’s entry into the race, Sawyer donated $3,000 to Grewal’s campaign.

“I support financially a wide range of candidates who run for office,” he said.

Grewal acknowledged the early financial support from Sawyer, whom he said he has known for some time. “And about his relationship with Kathy, I’m not aware of that stuff.”

Sawyer isn’t the only financial backer of Grewal’s campaign with connections to the two outsider Republicans, Garcia and Ridenour.

Rex Dhatt, a used-car dealer and president of the American Punjabi Chamber of Commerce, has donated at least $2,000 to Grewal. He’s also contributed to Garcia. (The exact value will be disclosed after the next campaign-finance-filing deadline at the end of January.)

Bill Lyons, a farmer, rancher and land developer in Modesto who serves as Gov. Newsom’s agriculture liaison and was state secretary of food and agriculture under Gov. Gray Davis, donated $1,953 to the Grewal campaign. Since 2017, Lyons, his firms and members of his family have given $26,891 to Grewal’s various electoral efforts.

But this year, four companies owned by Lyons have also been the sole contributors to Ridenour, one of the Republicans in the race, giving a total of $4,000 as of the end of 2019.

Dhatt said he wasn’t involved in either campaign directly. “I know them personally from before,” he said of the two candidates when reached by phone. “They came for a check, so I gave them a check. End of story.”

Neither Lyons nor Ridenour responded to requests for comment. 

While Grewal insists that none of the various connections between his campaign and those of Garcia and Ridenour amount to much more than a coincidence—common enough in moderately sized towns like Modesto and Stockton—his campaign has recognized that the presence of three Republicans in the race works to his benefit.

“With three credible Republican candidates—a former mayor of Modesto, a Stockton school board member, and a Stockton City Council member—those votes will be split,” reads a memo his campaign sent out to supporters last November. “None of the three Republicans will get more than 20 percent of the March vote.”

Given the moderate lean of the district as a whole, the memo continues: “Grewal’s support from law enforcement and business will result in the majority of Republicans supporting him.” Combined with a large share of the district’s Democrats, that will “give him a comfortable November margin.”

This isn’t the first time in California’s top-two history that an outside candidate has been labeled a spoiler. Take the case of Scott Baugh.

In 2018, the former Orange County Republican Chair entered a congressional race against then-incumbent Dana Rohrabacher. Baugh, who also happened to be Rohrabacher’s former campaign director, claimed to have suffered a falling out with his old boss. But with eight Democrats in the race, some political observers called his last-minute entry into the race “suspicious,” suggesting it was an attempt to insert a second well-known Republican in the race to nab the second place spot. As CalMatters’ columnist Dan Walters put it, the state GOP could have been “pulling off one of history’s most audacious political coups.”

Baugh and Rohrabacher’s mutual history didn’t help allay those suspicions. In 1995, Baugh won an Assembly race after Baugh’s campaign manager and Rohrabacher’s wife convinced a friend of Baugh’s to run as a “decoy” Democratic candidate, siphoning off votes from Baugh’s main opponent.

In 2018, Baugh came in fourth, and Rohrabacher lost in the general. The plan—if there was one—didn’t work.

That might be thanks to a bit of electoral shenanigans on the Democratic side: The Democratic Congressional Campaign Committee spent hundreds of thousands of dollars on ads hammering Baugh and boosting a little-known Republican candidate named John Gabbard, hoping to lift up the latter at the expense of the former.

Running political advertising to back a weaker candidate is yet another convoluted strategy enabled by the top-two system.

Last year, supporters of both Attorney General Xavier Becerra and Gov. Gavin Newsom ran advertisements that subtly(or maybe not so subtly) boosted the conservative bona fides of their Republican opponents.

Why? In a traditional partisan primary system, a Democrat in California would be forced to face off against a Republican, no matter what. But in California, where a Republican hasn’t won statewide since 2006, ensuring a GOP candidate gets into the top two rather than a fellow party member is a winning strategy for any Democratic candidate.

Newsom said as much when asked which candidate he’d like to run against during a pre-primary debate last May: “A Republican would be ideal.”

These strategies aren’t illegal. It’s not clear they’re even unethical, said Mitchell, who offered the electoral equivalent of the adage “don’t hate the player.”

“You can decry the people who would do those kinds of things, but you could also point to the system,” he said.

CalMatters.org is a nonprofit, nonpartisan media venture explaining California policies and politics.

Published in Politics

They call it a party, though there’s no music or dancing. But there’s plenty of politics in the air to liven up the rectangular, windowless room—with free drinks from an open bar to help loosen the lips.

Saturday night has arrived at the California Republican Party’s fall convention, which took place last month at Anaheim Marriott. The Saturday shindig put on by the Bay Area GOP will feature an announcement about the state party’s preliminary 2015 platform, which will be ratified by a vote the next morning.

Luis Buhler, publisher of BayAreaGOP.com and former vice chair of the Bay Area GOP, delivers the tentative platform to the room.

Things get interesting when the platform’s “equal opportunity” wording comes up.

“The platform committee added language opposing discrimination in housing on the basis of sexual orientation,” Buhler says.

A sudden interruption rings out: “BOOOO!”

Everyone turns to a smug, clean-cut young man sitting in a chair with his arms crossed.

He makes no effort to stand. “BOOO!” he repeats.

Buhler continues, acting unflapped: “That is, by the way, the law of California,” before attempting to move on to other platform details.

But there it is again: “BOO!”

The man, dressed in a sport coat, remains hunkered in his seat.

Buhler persists: “So our platform now is in compliance with the law.”

A few minutes later, immigration comes up.

“The immigration section was clearly the most controversial,” Buhler says. “In total, (it) takes some very conservative, traditional positions of the Republican Party.”

The young Republican regains his voice.

“Bullshit!”

Another smartly dressed man approaches the heckler from behind, taps him on the shoulder and says, “You need to be respectful.”

All eyes go back to Buhler, but seconds later, the heckler erupts. “Really? Really? I’ll leave, I don’t need security.”

As he walks out he says, “Bye! Go be Democrats!”

A man near the door gives the heckler a piece of his mind. “Where’s your bed?” he says, seemingly suggesting the heckler is a child, or too drunk—or both.

Leaving the room, the heckler turns.

“Liberals!” he yells.

Buhler, meanwhile, has never stopped talking: “… but it does call for language, English and English only, as the language of government.”

The man appears in another doorway to the room.

“Boooooooooo!”


En route to the convention via Interstate 5, the only English-language radio station coming through in the Central Valley is KSFO 560AM. On it, conservative talk show host Mark Levin rails for more than an hour against the media’s handling of the second Republican presidential debate, which occurred a day earlier.

He calls it a food fight, and picks on the media—both CNN and Fox News before it—for using their debates to create theatrical conflict amid candidates to boost ratings.

Levin wants substance.

The point resurfaces the next morning, after the conference begins. Tom Palzer, who’s running a campaign for U.S. Senate against more well-funded, white male candidates, approaches for a chat and ends up riffing about the media.

“When you’re running for office, you’re running against your own party; you’re running against the other party; you’re running against the independents; you’re running against the media,” he says. “The media is always waiting to chop your head off.”


For as much as GOP presidential candidates love California for fundraising purposes—it’s the richest state in the union—they often appear otherwise indifferent to California, and for good reason: Its voters haven’t supported a Republican candidate since George H.W. Bush in 1988, more than a quarter-century ago.

With 16 candidates vying for the 2016 Republican nomination, only the dregs of the current campaign—Scott Walker and Mike Huckabee—agreed to speak at California GOP’s Sept. 18-20 convention. But on Sept. 13, Walker’s campaign announced that, due to flagging poll numbers, he would not appear and instead would attempt to shore up support in South Carolina and Iowa, two states critical to securing the nomination. (Walker pulled out of the race altogether Sept. 23).

So Huckabee became the sole headliner, slated for the Friday VIP luncheon.

As the attendees munch on their salads, the room goes dark, and two giant screens light up on the left and right behind the stage.

“Every day of my life in politics was a fight; sometimes, it was an intense one,” Huckabee tells the camera, referring to his long odds in succeeding politically in Arkansas, a longtime Democratic stronghold. “But any drunken redneck can walk into a bar and start a fight. But a leader only starts a fight that he is prepared to finish.”

The three-minute film featured Huckabee’s wife, Janet, who praised him for sticking by her side after she was diagnosed with cancer early in their marriage.

When the lights come back on, California Republican Party Chairman Jim Brulte takes the stage to introduce the former Arkansas governor, calling him “one of the best governors in America.” After Huckabee takes the stage to a standing ovation, he immediately starts digging into the Sept. 16 debate, where he was given little time to speak—and when he did speak, he foundered. (One thing he said during the debate: “The most dangerous person in any room is the person who doesn’t know what he doesn’t know.”)

“I’m excited to be here for several reasons, not the least of which I’ve been allocated three times more time than I got in three hours of the CNN debate,” Huckabee says. “I told Bill O’Reilly last night: I wasn’t sure if I was in the CNN debate, or if I was standing in line at the DMV. Insufferably, a three-hour tour. I thought I was in an episode of Gilligan’s Island, and we got shipwrecked out there. I kept looking around for Ginger and Mary Ann.

“The essence of the questions was intended to try to get us all to fight with each other,” he says. “I, for one, as a Republican, say it’s time we say to the networks: The purpose of a Republican debate is not to create fodder for your entertainment value.”

The debate, Huckabee says, should be about deciding which candidate can not just get to the Super Bowl, but win it.

“I’m also delighted to be able to spend these few minutes with you, because I do believe we have an incredible opportunity to get America going again. There are a lot of reasons for us to be disturbed, disgusted, even outraged at what’s happening in our country,” he says.

“I understand there is more than just a little bit of dissatisfaction with the way our country is going. It’s better described as a seething rage. People are not just unhappy; they are outraged, to the point that in some cases they don’t really care if they elect somebody who has any understanding of what it means to govern.

“Here’s the truth: Why am I running for president? Because I have five grandkids now. And I feel so blessed to be an American. I haven’t just read about the American Dream; I have lived it. And I for one am not willing to walk my grandchildren through the charred remains of a once-great country called America and say, ‘Here it is, kids.’”

The ballroom erupts with applause.


John Myers, senior editor of KQED’s California politics and government desk, stands in front of a camera in the Anaheim Marriott’s convention area hall, poised to deliver a sound bite on the health of the Republican Party in California.

“Set aside all of the spin and the bluster that comes with politics: The challenges of the California Republican Party are ones of numbers. There are about 4.9 million registered Republicans in the state; that’s about 400,000 fewer than there were just six years ago. Democrats have also lost numbers as people have moved to register as independents, but Republicans have lost more, and now make up only 28 percent of the overall electorate.”

Myers’ producer asks that he shift his position, so they can do another take.


It’s late afternoon Friday, and the bar at the Anaheim Marriott is filling up. At the corner are two women joined by Joy Delepine, a 2014 state Assembly candidate from District 14, which mostly encompasses Contra Costa County. After making it into the general election by finishing second in the primary as a write-in candidate, Delepine won 31 percent of the electoral vote.

Her friends commiserate with the bartender, seeking cocktail advice.

“We like alcohol,” one says.

A man I later learn is Sean Lee takes the barstool to my right. He is Asian American, in his mid-40s, and says he has never tried Guinness. He asks for a sample, and satisfied with the taste, orders a pint.

Before long, Lee—who was educated at UC Irvine and the University of Southern California—starts talking about Donald Trump, and the state of politics in America.

“We had two sessions in office, and now there’s two sessions of a Democrat in office. But what’s changed? Not much; they’re all playing politics,” Lee says.

Lee is an entrepreneur and runs a company, Political Data Inc., that he says can get the most up-to-date voter information on the market. He doesn’t sell his services to Democratic candidates.

“The core issues are what’s deteriorated: the safety of our country, our economy and relation to all the other countries,” Lee says. “That’s what needs to be fixed first. Donald Trump represents someone that’s very fresh, something different.”

But Lee later flips on the idea that Trump’s popularity is hinged on him not being a politician.

“I don’t think life is that different whether you’re a politician or a businessman,” he says. “You’ve got to deal. It’s a give and take. You’re trying to get the best deal for your side and come out on top.”


Mike Madrid’s day is not going well.

It’s day two of the convention, and one of the state’s pre-eminent campaign strategists is having a hard time controlling a basic seminar about winning local elections.

When he tells the attendees they should focus on door-to-door outreach, mailers and social media, cries from the crowd are immediate. Lawn signs, they say, are the most important thing to get elected.

Madrid is persistent, and spends another 10 minutes explaining his logic: Signs don’t ultimately sway voters. Period. “I’m not saying lawn signs are not important. What I’m saying is, they’re the least important.”

Madrid steers the conversation toward door-to-door strategies, and says candidates should spend at least nine weekends, as well some nights after work, knocking on doors and meeting their would-be supporters.

“When they go to the polls, they’re going to remember who you are,” he says. “If you knock on more doors than your opponent, your chances of success are exponentially greater.”

Then Madrid—ready to talk about how to disarm people answering the door, or how to use Facebook effectively—calls on a woman with her hand raised.

The woman wants to say lawn signs are the most important factor in getting elected in her district.

Madrid winces.

“What lawn signs are really about,” he says, “they’re about politicians needing to see their name out there and give them a sense of comfort.

“Being a candidate is not easy. It’s not that fun, and if you like it, we also have therapy.”

The room laughs.

“If (lawn signs are) my strategy, then I need to change my strategy,” he says. “After you’ve bought your slate mail, Facebook ads, after you’ve had all your events, buy a lawn sign. And if you win, let me know, and I’ll still disagree with you.”


The bald white guy talking to two other white guys is wearing a pin on his white dress shirt: “Stop Co-Ed Bathrooms,” it says.

Past him down the hall is a table covered with conservative bumper stickers, which the purveyor has qualified with a sign reading: “Warning | Politically Incorrect Area | Rampant Insensitivity Authorized.”

Among the bumper-sticker offerings: “Evolution Is Science Fiction,” “Keep Honking … I’m Reloading” and “Save the Males.”


Increasing the female vote is key for the state’s Republican party, and the subject of a Saturday afternoon seminar.

It begins with GOP strategist Richard Temple presenting some sobering statistics: 67 percent of unmarried women voted for Obama in 2012, and 58 percent of women voted Democrat in 2014.

Add to that, 58 percent of women don’t feel the Republican party understands them.

Temple then implores the women in the room to step up: “The issues are there for us,” he says. “And women can say stuff we can’t say as men.”

A handful of women follow Temple on the mic, the second being state Assemblywoman Kristin Olsen, a young politician out of Modesto.

“Negative campaigning is not going to inspire women,” says Olsen. “Maybe it’s because we’re tired of hearing our kids whine all day.”

But she encourages women to run.

“The women who run tend to win,” she says. “We have a terrible track record in getting women to run in the first place.”

Next up is Roseann Slonsky-Breault, president of the California Federation of Republican Women, which she says is the largest all-volunteer political organization in the country.

“We’ve got to win back that White House, and we’ve got to get boots on the ground to do that. Women’s issues are what men’s issues are,” she says.

“Remember the soccer moms from 2004? Well, the soccer moms are back,” she adds. “Everyone is worrying about the future.”


Outside the Marriott Saturday night are women and Asian men dressed as medieval maidens.

The Marriott is across a plaza from a Hilton, and the Anaheim Convention Center sits just to its west.

It turns out the Hilton, concurrent to the GOP convention, is hosting TouhouCon, and spilling outside into the plaza are rows of slick Hondas custom-painted with Japanese anime characters. Maidens are everywhere, posing for pictures.

Touhou enthusiast David Storm, who is circulating in the plaza amid the cosplayers, explains that Touhou is a video game created in 1996 “by one drunk programmer” that has since captured a cult following.

“It’s like half of Japan’s underground culture,” he says. “If you go to anything there, it will be like half Touhou. It’s ridiculous. You go out to the raves over there; it’s ridiculous.”

But what do the cars have to do with game?

“Nothing,” Storm says. “People just like the cars.”


After Dana Rohrabacher leads the pledge of allegiance at the convention’s Saturday-night dinner event, he announces he will be singing a song.

“We just pledged our allegiance to the flag, right,” says Rohrabacher, a U.S. congressman from Costa Mesa. “That’s what this is really all about. It’s all about America. It’s all about what America stands for. It’s not about politics; it’s not about titles. It’s about our country, our country that stands for freedom, our country that is the shining example of liberty and justice for the entire world, the only hope for the world.

“I’m not a very good singer,” he hedges, and picks up a guitar. “It’s called ‘God Bless Our Freedom.’”

And then he puts his pipes to work.

“God bless America, God bless our freedom, and God bless the people who work everyday. God bless the folks, who built this great country…

“Beauty and progress are one with the land, and neighbor helps neighbor, we all understand … ”

The night’s featured speaker was scheduled to be Gov. Walker.

On short notice, the California GOP recruited John Bolton, former U.S. ambassador to the United Nations under the George W. Bush administration, to take Walker’s place. He didn’t come to the stage with Rohrabacher’s optimistic energy, but rather, fear and loathing.

“For the eight years of the Obama administration, we’ve had our security and our place in the world put at risk,” Bolton says. “We’ve seen America retreat from positions of security that have been built up by decades of effort. We’ve witnessed international terrorism grow back to the point that it was on Sept. 11, 2001 and even gotten worse than that … .

“All across the Middle East, state structures are breaking down, and new ones are being created, and not to our advantage. ISIS now controls territory in Iraq and Syria equal to the size of Great Britain. They are creating a new country. They have a currency, a central bank, a national budget—which puts them ahead of us … ”

Laughter fills the room, briefly, and Bolton goes on about Benghazi, and how weak Obama is on foreign policy.

“There are enormous changes going on the world, all of them negative,” Bolton says. “The outlook, I’m afraid to say, is uniformly gloomy. I wish I had better news for you, but we have made a huge mistake as a country in electing this man president twice.”

The room erupts with applause.


Saturday night, after the Bay Area GOP shuts their party down, the bar at the Marriott fills up, mostly with men.

Dave Titus, chief of staff for Beth Gaines, a state Assemblywoman from the Sacramento area, pulls up to a vacant stool and surveys the scene.

“Look at all these dudes at the bar,” he says. “It’s like sword-fight city. It’s like spring training.”

Titus is talking about the high number of men at the bar, but he could also be talking the 2016 Republican presidential race—or, for that matter, the party itself. Men in a fight.

That’s not how Luis Buhler, the former vice chair of the Bay Area GOP who was heckled by the young man in the sport coat, sees it. Two days after discussing the party platform at the Bay Area GOP party, he publishes a blog post about the convention: “California Republicans wrapped up their annual fall convention Sunday optimistic and united,” it begins.

Later, he adds this: “Republicans have avoided controversial internal fights and expanded (their) reach to groups traditionally excluded from the party.”

Published in Politics