There is nothing, absolutely nothing, that could make a primary election for Texas land commissioner interesting. Not if Kinky Friedman were running. Not if Milton Friedman were running. Not if an underwater city of gold and vibranium and sweet crude oil were discovered on election eve 10 miles off the coast of Galveston—just 10, because the feds take over jurisdiction from the Texas General Land Office at 10 miles-plus.
Now, if such a city did turn up within that range, and the winner of Kinky versus Milton Friedman were to face, say, Gary Busey (of Goose Creek, Texas) in the general to help decide the underwater city’s fate . . . well, it’d still just be a race for land commissioner.
“Usually it’s regarded as a job from which you run for something else,” Texas political columnist Dave McNeely tells me.
“Something else” is the reason national media are paying attention to George P. Bush. The 41-year-old son of Jeb is the incumbent Texas land commissioner and he’s regarded as the “heir” to his family’s political dynasty: a designation that points toward higher office in the future. But in the present, his reputation is on the line. After a first term panned by many Texas Republicans, he faces a fight on Tuesday just to win the Republican nomination for the November election.
Conservatives have lambasted Bush for a proposal to redevelop the Alamo, both for the concept and for his alleged mismanagement of the project. He’s received negative feedback for the Land Office’s response to Hurricane Harvey, as well, with critics charging that repairs to damaged coastal homes are proceeding too slowly, leaving too many residents still displaced. “These are not issues that anybody had to get ginned up about. These are things that are real,” says Scott Braddock, editor of the well-regarded Texas political newsletter the Quorum Report.
They’re also enough to diminish Bush’s reelection prospects, which ought to have been 100 percent given his enormous financial resources and name recognition—decisive assets for such an obscure post. He needs more than 50 percent of the vote on Tuesday to avoid a runoff against Jerry Patterson, the previous land commissioner and top Republican challenger, who jumped into the race late after souring on Bush’s job performance. A mid-February University of Texas/Texas Tribune poll showed Bush leading Patterson 57 to 31 percent. But when given the opportunity to not select a candidate, 44 percent of respondents listed no preference, and Bush’s share fell to 36 percent.
Braddock says “just about everyone thinks if it gets into a runoff, [Bush] is in real trouble.” There’s recent precedent: Ted Cruz, once the outsider solicitor general of Texas, blew past establishment favorite and lieutenant governor David Dewhurst in a 2012 GOP Senate runoff, 57 to 43 percent. Dewhurst topped the field in the initial primary vote with 45 percent; Cruz finished second with 34.
Bush has tried resetting the narrative by touting some of the basics: his stands against radical environmentalism and for fiscal responsibility, and even his support of veterans and school choice. The latter two do relate to his position: The Texas Veterans Land Board, part of the Land Office, finances home and land loans for veterans, operates nursing homes, and oversees veterans cemeteries. By law, revenues from a certain amount of public lands goes to a Permanent School Fund; Bush says he’s influenced lawmakers on how to spend it.
But that’s no way to shore up Republican votes in 2018. Bush’s “closing message on TV,” as Texas Tribune reporter Patrick Svitek put it, is a 30-second spot about his support of President Trump—not support of a particular policy on which his office and the executive branch may overlap. Just support of the man and his Washington agenda. “Land commissioner George P. Bush is standing with Donald Trump to end illegal immigration,” the ad states, for example.
That issue is not on the Texas land commissioner’s radar. In fact, President Trump’s agenda for illegal immigration appears closer to outer space than to the inner workings of the Texas General Land Office. “The declaration of a position on immigration that’s close to Donald Trump or anyone else is really best understood in the context of Republican primary politics, rather than the responsibilities of the office,” says Jim Henson, the director of the Texas Politics Project at the University of Texas and co-director of the Texas Tribune Poll.
As he is among most of the party nationwide, Trump is highly—and consistently—popular with Texas Republicans. Eighty-three percent told the Texas Tribune last month that they approved of the president. “Texas candidates campaigning as Trump supporters probably bet on the right horse,” Henson wrote at the time.
Bush, however, is not the typical Texas GOP candidate, regardless of the familiarity of his surname appearing on a statewide ballot. He’s the son of a person who Trump maligned two years ago with no apologies or regrets. The younger Bush eventually endorsed Trump during the general election in 2016, but did so without hype or even an organized announcement. A year and a half later, handshakes have turned to bear hugs. In recent weeks, Donald Trump Jr., endorsed Bush, which Bush enthusiastically promoted; later, Trump himself tweeted his endorsement, and Bush has reminded everyone of the news since, through Twitter and advertising.
Thank you @POTUS as we work in Texas to #MAGA and support your agenda to make it happen https://t.co/5a58q891oL
— George P. Bush (@georgepbush) February 27, 2018
“For reasons I think of self-survival—and that’s what I judge this to be with regard to George P.—he doesn’t want to be able to get called out for not having sufficiently endorsed Trump,” McNeely says. “But I do think he’s gone overboard with it.” So do Texas Republican voters Braddock says he’s met on the campaign trail in recent weeks, who view Bush’s all-in plunge for Trump as “sycophantic.”
“Remember what Trump was saying about his father during the presidential race in ’16. It makes them like Bush less, even though he’s tied himself to someone they like,” he says.
Bush needs his strategy to work just enough on Tuesday to survive the short term. In the longer term, his possibilities for high-profile office seem limited to the House or gubernatorial politics in 2022, should Gov. Greg Abbott, a shoo-in for reelection this year, decline to seek a third term. The Senate is closed off: Cruz is opposing Democratic Rep. Beto O’Rourke this year, and Senate Majority Whip John Cornyn announced last year that he’d run again in 2020. But if news cycles now evolve every 15 minutes, two years is a lot of time for unforeseen change—not just with respect to who is running for what office, but who happens to be an asset to moving up the political ranks.
“Some people placed earlier bets on Trump. Right now, that’s proving to be a pretty good strategy,” says Henson. “Will it be in November? If there’s continuity with this moment, it probably will.” He chuckles. “But I don’t know anybody that knows how to call that.”