It was one of the best nights of my career. But it was not all joy. Not by any means. November 8, 2000. After a brutal two-year congressional campaign, I was elected to Congress with Eve by my side.
It wasn’t an easy race. Far from it. All eyes were on our district as I took on a nationally recognized Republican incumbent in the most expensive congressional race ever. A true slugfest until the very end.
But at this moment, it was bliss. We won. And we were heading to Washington. (The downside? So were George W. Bush and a Republican House.)
This wasn’t my first race. Actually, I had lost my first two races for State Assembly before winning on the third try for State Senate. After those first two losses, I used to quote Winston Churchill a lot. When he was unceremoniously thrown out of office near the end of WWII, he remarked how people kept telling him that his losing was a blessing in disguise. “At the moment,” he replied, “it seems a blessing very effectively disguised!"
My Assembly losses had been a blessing in disguise and led to my election to the State Senate. Then, during the middle of my first Senate term, I was encouraged to run for Congress. No Democrat had been elected to that office in our district since Franklin Roosevelt, and I knew it would be uphill. But I was also excited to be part of what I hoped would be an historic Democratic takeover of the House.
My opponent was a prominent Republican named Jim Rogan. He was very well known as one of the impeachment managers in the trial against Bill Clinton. As polls tightened, it quickly became a national race with all eyes on us.
The thing is, I didn't want to run a national race. I wanted to focus on the issues I was hearing most about in our community. Health care and prescription drug costs. Public safety and guns. Jobs and the economy. So that’s what I talked about, as I campaigned door to door, with a clipboard in hand and plenty of brochures.
My opponent, on the other hand, had a different approach. I woke up to blistering advertisements on TV and radio and my mailbox was filled with attack pieces. It was something.
But in the end, we took on the best-funded campaign in the country and we beat it.
Since 2000, campaigns have changed a lot. Back then our record-setting race cost $15 million total. Congressional seats were just beginning to receive national attention in the advent of 24-hour news networks. And there was no Facebook (politically, that was probably a good thing).
Skip to present day. In 2020, my far-right Republican opponent raised over $4 million to try to defeat me, and he was only a mediocre candidate. Races around the country get constant coverage, and social media has changed everything.
But here’s a good thing that has come out of all of this change: I’m able to be in touch with you, John. Campaigns, more than ever, are of the people and by the people. Funded by grassroots donors who give $5, $10, and $20 at a time.
I don't spend hours a week calling strangers for money. I rely on people like you reading this email. And the truth is this – these donations all add up and allow me to keep my focus on what's happening in Washington and do the hard work to protect our democracy.
So, what do you say? Can you help me continue my fight in Congress with this campaign of the people, and for the people? If you can, chip in $10, $25, or whatever is meaningful to you so I can keep working on your behalf:
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Your support means the world to me, and Eve. And hopefully will lead to more memories like the one in that photo back on November 8, 2000.
— Adam
