Dear President Trump: Please Learn from My Mistake and Yours

It was September 2008, and I was running for the U.S. House of Representatives in New Jersey’s 1st Congressional District. My opponent was expected to be Rep. Rob Andrews, a nine-term incumbent who routinely racked up more than 200,000 votes in a heavily Democratic district that hadn’t elected a Republican congressman since 1972. In fact, in two of the three previous election cycles, the GOP had failed to even field a candidate.

However, in April of that year, right before the filing deadline, Andrews opted to run for the U.S. Senate instead. The local Democratic machine dutifully replaced him on the ballot with his wife, Camille, and Rob promised that even if he lost his Senate primary he would not return to the House.

As fate would have it, Rob lost his race to unseat Frank Lautenberg, the 84-year-old incumbent, by 23% and more than 80,000 votes. It was a stinging defeat for Andrews, who had promised not to make Lautenberg’s age an issue in the campaign but reneged on that promise when polls showed him trailing badly. Meanwhile, Camille – a political unknown – coasted to victory in the Democratic primary as did I in the two-way Republican primary.

Throughout that summer, I campaigned as hard as I knew how, attending scores of community events and knocking on an estimated 10,000 doors. Conversely, Camille refused to hold a single campaign event or attend a single debate, while maintaining the most rudimentary of websites.

The day after Labor Day, Rob did the unthinkable. After allowing us to criticize Camille’s shadow campaign throughout the summer while he licked his wounds and hid behind her skirt, Rob announced his intention to run for his old seat, knocking his own wife off the ballot in the process.

That’s when it hit the political fan. The following morning, the liberal Philadelphia Inquirer ran a scorching editorial calling Andrews a “boldfaced liar” in the headline. As his opponent, my phone started ringing off the hook with calls from national media outlets, asking for my perspective. Finally, Rob and I were both invited to appear on KYW-Channel 3, the local CBS television affiliate in Philadelphia, to discuss the growing scandal.

When I arrived at the TV station, Rob met me outside the elevator with his entourage and tried to intimidate me with an overly firm handshake. But once we went on the air, he realized that I wasn’t about to back down. The news anchor asked Rob to explain his broken promise and after he offered a series of lame excuses, it was my turn.

“Rob, you lied when you met with the rest of the New Jersey congressional delegation in January over Chinese food in Georgetown and mutually agreed not to run against Sen. Lautenberg in the primary,” I began. “Then you lied again when you promised not to make Sen. Lautenberg’s age an issue but wound up making it your main issue once you fell behind in the polls. And then you lied for a third time when you said you would never run for the House again, only to bump your own wife off the ticket.”

“Rob,” I concluded, “you’re nothing but a compulsive liar.”

I don’t recall whether or not Rob’s face was flush or the veins in his neck were bulging in anger, but I knew that I had landed a few solid punches. And then, it happened. Like the devious but veteran politician that he was, Rob blurted out, “Yeah, but you want to cut Social Security.”

It was obviously a desperation move by a candidate “on the ropes”, one straight out of the Democratic playbook. But showing my lack of experience, I took the bait and started to refute his claim… until the anchor cut me off to go to a commercial break. I learned then and there – the hard way – not to let Rob or anyone else distract me by making an unfounded accusation.

Fortunately for me, the episode had zero effect on the election results. Despite earning the endorsements of all four regional newspapers including the aforementioned Inquirer and the Courier-Post, a Gannett publication, I lost handily that November. However, although I finished a distant second in the race, I managed to receive more votes – and a higher percentage of votes – than any Republican challenger in 36 years.

I was reminded of this story while watching Tuesday night’s presidential debate. Every time it seemed like President Trump was hitting his stride and scoring some points, Vice President Harris threw a curveball at him, hurling one demonstrably false and inflammatory accusation after another. I watched in horror as Mr. Trump, instead of brushing them off with a single sentence and a dismissive shrug, responded in detail to every single allegation, using up valuable time in the process. He kept swinging – and missing – at Kamala’s pitches throughout much of the night, which had the desired effect of not only frustrating the former President but also preventing him from effectively articulating his own talking points.

As a political rookie in a no-win race, my amateur mistake proved insignificant. In fact, when I asked voters if it bothered them that Andrews had lied (and manipulated his wife in the process), I was told that “all politicians lie.” When I replied, “Don’t you deserve better,” they simply shrugged their shoulders.

By contrast, the stakes for President Trump could not be higher. In such a tight race, he cannot afford to make such a mistake, especially in the closing weeks of the campaign with the entire nation watching. Although he has spent the vast majority of his career in the business world, this is Mr. Trump’s third presidential campaign, so he should know better than to chase his opponent down one rabbit hole after another.

With the possibility of a second presidential debate in October – which I strongly encourage President Trump to accept – I have a few parting words of advice. Keep your head in the game and your eye on the ball.