Biden may not drop out, but in Virginia, both parties have occasionally replaced candidates

We were probably three minutes into last week’s presidential debate before we started hearing Democrats panic about whether they should replace President Joe Biden as their nominee.

We’ve never had a case where a party replaced its nominee for president mid-campaign — although it’s worth noting that, technically, Biden is not yet the nominee. That’s what the conventions are for: to formally nominate candidates. (Although Democrats will hold a virtual roll call ahead of their Aug. 19-22 convention in Chicago to make sure Biden is legally their nominee in time to meet early filing deadlines in some states.)

Should Biden drop out of the race before then — not something anyone should count on, by the way — what we’d have would be an old-fashioned open convention where the delegates would pick the nominee. We haven’t had a convention in doubt since the 1976 Republican convention, where President Gerald Ford still didn’t have enough delegates to secure the nomination and challenger Ronald Reagan was seen as still having a chance (although Ford eventually won, narrowly).

The last truly open convention was in 1956, when the Democratic presidential nominee, Adlai Stevenson, threw the choice of his running mate to the delegates, setting off a nine-candidate stampede. Tennessee Sen. Estes Kefauver won on the second ballot, but a young senator from Massachusetts made a surprisingly strong showing that set him up for future success. His name was John F. Kennedy.

Both parties have provisions for replacing a nominee who becomes unavailable through death or resignation. That happened in 1972, when presidential nominee George McGovern felt compelled to replace his original vice presidential pick, Thomas Eagleton, after it was revealed that Eagleton had received electroshock therapy for depression. 

While that’s the only example of a presidential or vice presidential nominee being replaced, there are multiple examples in Virginia of candidates being replaced when a nominee has dropped out of the race. (In 1978, Republicans had to replace their Senate nominee after Richard Obenshain died in a plane crash; thus launching John Warner toward his Senate career). Here are three of the most consequential ones:

2018: A five-day campaign to pick a new 5th District Republican nominee

In May 2018, then-U.S. Rep. Tom Garrett announced he would no longer seek reelection so he could focus on his battle against alcoholism. Since Garrett has already been formally nominated, that meant picking a new Republican nominee fell to the 5th District Republican Committee. It set off what The Washington Post called at the time “a frenzied five-day campaign.”

Six candidates vied for the job, but there were almost seven. State Sen. Bill Stanley, R-Franklin County, pondered jumping into the race but did not. “I’m not built for Congress,” Stanley said. “I want to do something.” 

When the committee met one Saturday afternoon in Nelson County, there were more people on hand to watch the proceedings than committee members actually voting. “Instead of a traditional campaign with rallies and mailers, hopefuls personally rallied the 37 members of a party committee steeped in local politics and Republican orthodoxy,” The Washington Post reported. By party rule, the votes were secret. So no one knew which committee members were voting for whom, adding to the suspense.

One surprise candidate was Cynthia Dunbar of Bedford County, described by the Post as a “far-right activist” who just two weeks earlier had lost the Republican nomination in the 6th District to Ben Cline. However, no law requires that House members live in their district. With Garrett’s surprise departure, Dunbar resurfaced in the 5th and appeared to be a strong candidate, given the conservative makeup of the Republican committee. Facing her were five other candidates: Nelson County distillery owner Denver Riggleman, who had mounted a long-shot campaign for the Republican nomination for governor the previous year; Fauquier County Del. Michael Webert; land-use activist Martha Boneta of Fauquier County; retired military officer Joe Whited of Rappahannock County; and think tank analyst Michael Del Rosso of Charlottesville.

Dunbar led on the first ballot, but Riggleman gained strength on later ballots as other candidates were eliminated. Riggleman’s side questioned Dunbar’s electability and raised the prospect that if Democrats won the House that year, they’d impeach then-President Trump (which turned out to be prescient). Riggleman prevailed on the fourth ballot and went on to win the general election. Of course, we all know what happened after that — Riggleman presided over a same-sex wedding, which led to Bob Good challenging Riggleman for the nomination in 2020, and winning. 

A side note: While, as noted, House members don’t have to live in their district, redistricting has since cut some of those contenders for that emergency nomination in 2018 out of the district — Boneta, Webert and Whited are all now in other districts. So, too, is Stanley, who didn’t make the race. 

Also: Garrett has since said he’s recovered and last fall won a seat in the House of Delegates.

1991: The Speaker of the House dies mid-campaign

No one loomed larger over Virginia politics in the 1980s and early ’90s than A.L. Philpott, a Democrat from Henry County who only had to glower to send some legislators trembling. He had once blocked a bill by then-state Sen. Doug Wilder that would have made Martin Luther King Jr.’s birthday a state holiday; his decision to endorse Wilder for lieutenant governor in 1985 was a key moment in boosting Wilder’s campaign. Philpott also battled cancer in his later years. In the fall of 1991, his health declined, and he died on Sept. 28. That was also an election year. Democrats had until Oct. 5 to replace Philpott as their nominee. 

Somehow, Democrats managed to organize a firehouse primary in that short window. The two main candidates were Ward Armstrong and Bob Crouch, both of whom had long been eyeing that House seat should it ever become vacant. Crouch died in 2021, but Armstrong shared his memory of how that whirlwind campaign played out.

“I went to the bank and borrowed $30,000, which was a hell of a lot of money in 1991,” Armstrong said. “You didn’t have time to fundraise. I knew I was only going to get one shot at this thing.” If he won, he knew he’d be able to raise money to pay that debt; but if he lost, well, nobody gives money to losers. So he’d be on the hook for thirty grand, plus interest.

His wife, Pam, called up a print shop she knew and said she needed 2,000 campaign posters. They said they’d have them in a week. She told them no, she’d be there the next day to pick them up. Everything was on an accelerated schedule. “She had four cousins, all had pickup trucks, and overnight we put out 2,000 signs in Henry County,” Armstrong said. On the other side, Crouch was doing much the same.

On the day of Philpott’s funeral, Armstrong’s campaign team rushed out to the route of the funeral procession to cover his campaign signs in black garbage bags — it was considered impolite for mourners going to the cemetery to see campaign signs for one of Philpott’s would-be successors. 

Armstrong also hired one of the best Democratic political operatives of the day: Linda Moore, who had run the winning campaign for then-Lt. Gov. Don Beyer. “She said we’re going to figure out our win number and then we’re going to spend a ton of money on GOTV [get out the vote] calls.” She estimated they’d need somewhere north of 3,000 people to come out. “I spent $10,000 on professional phone banks.” On the day before, and the day of, the firehouse primary, the phone bankers called people who had been identified as likely Armstrong voters three or four times to make sure they turned out.

They did. By some accounts, 6,500 people voted in the firehouse primary, although Armstrong thinks it might have been about 5,000. Either way, he won by 200 votes, then went on to win handily in the general election. Those were the days when Henry County was still a Democratic stronghold. For context: In the last governor’s race, the Democratic candidate for governor polled 5,547 votes in Henry County. If that 6,500 figure that’s been cited over the years for the firehouse primary is accurate, more people voted in a hastily scheduled firehouse primary in 1991 than now vote Democratic in an actual election in Henry County.

That snap nomination sent the two main participants in different directions, career-wise: Armstrong went on to serve nearly two decades in Richmond, eventually becoming House minority leader. Crouch later became U.S. attorney for the Western District of Virginia. 

2004: Congressman quits race amid sex allegations 

In 2004, a website posted allegations that Rep. Ed Schrock, R-Virginia Beach, was gay. Seven days later, he abruptly announced he would not seek reelection. “After much thought and prayer, I have come to the realization that these allegations will not allow my campaign to focus on the real issues facing our nation and region,” he said in a statement.

Republicans had less than a week to meet the state deadline to replace Schrock on the ballot in one of the state’s most volatile districts. They chose Thelma Drake, a state legislator from Norfolk. She went on to win with 55.1% that fall and was reelected in 2006 before losing in 2008. Later she ran the state’s Department of Rail and Public Transportation under Gov. Bob McDonnell, and President Donald Trump nominated her to lead the Federal Transit Administration.

Other examples

There are multiple other examples around the state of candidates being replaced mid-campaign. The only other one close to us that I’ve found was in 2009, when then-Del. Chris Saxman, R-Staunton, announced that July he’d decided not to seek reelection. Staunton City Council member Dickie Bell was picked to replace him and went on to win the general election. If there are other examples in the western part of the state, I’d love to hear about them.

The main takeaway from these examples? Party committees matter. The general public doesn’t pay any attention to them; many within parties don’t, either. However, when a candidate quits, they’re the ones with the power to pick a nominee — and in a strongly partisan district (as most of ours are), that’s effectively the power to pick the next officeholder. 

I don’t expect Biden to quit the race. But if he did, some Democrats you’ve probably never heard of — be they convention delegates before the nomination or the party’s governing committee afterwards — would suddenly become very, very important.