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Is it time for a Wendy Wasserstein renaissance?
Is it time for a reassessment of Wendy Wasserstein’s 1997 An American Daughter, which she described as “darker” than her 20th century hits? On Aug. 11, when La Femme Theatre Productions opens the first major New York revival at the Signature Center’s Irene Diamond Stage, audiences will find out.
Wasserstein was among the most commercially successful female theater artists of the 20th century. Along with Lorraine Hansberry and Lillian Hellman, she was one of few women to open a play directly on Broadway. According to an interview with Wasserstein in The Paris Review, she received the biggest advance ever given to a straight play for 1992’s The Sisters Rosensweig. (It lost the Tony for Best Play to Angels in America.)
And yet since her death from cancer at age 55 in 2006, (the same year as Betty Friedan, who scolded her about the end of her 1989 play, The Heidi Chronicles, where Heidi gives up her career to adopt a child) she has been sidelined. In the 1980s and early 1990s, Heidi, and her other big plays, An Uncommon Woman and Others, Isn’t It Romantic?, and The Sisters Rosensweig were considered paradigm changing. They told the stories of elite women navigating the enormous social changes second-wave feminism wrought. No other American playwright so consistently created worlds in which women — Jewish and not — juggled relationships and careers.
Written in the mid-1990s, An American Daughter is different. Sometimes described as Wasserstein’s most political play, it was her first work to be set outside of New York. The Beltway comedy-drama emerged out of her frustration at the backlash against feminism and the scandals tanking women in the Clinton era, such as Hilary’s Cookiegate and Zoe Baird’s Nannygate. And while An American Daughter is, like Wasserstein’s earlier work, autobiographical, it sounds different. Angrier. While Wasserstein was writing it, she was struggling to have a child as her sister, Sandra, was battling cancer. (A year after An American Daughter, she would conceive.)
The Hilary/Zoe figure is Lyssa Dent Hughes, a nominee for surgeon general whose life gets overturned by a media scandal after she admits on camera that she ignored a jury summons. The DC types who line up or fall away include her best friend, her husband, her father, a pro-life senator from Indiana, her best friend, a Black Jewish oncologist, a gay conservative modeled after Andrew Sullivan and a third- wave feminist modeled after Naomi Wolf.
Jean Lichty, the artistic director of La Femme, who plays Lyssa in the revival, believes An American Daughter deserves another look. “This is a deeply felt important play about social, political and class divisions,” she said in an interview.
Maybe so. Although the play’s politics sound quintessentially 1990s, it also anticipates our mob and media driven politics. After Lyssa describes her mother in an interview as “an ordinary Indiana housewife,” women in Indiana turn against her. It doesn’t matter how great her liberal policies are.
Still, I wonder if this production can overcome Wasserstein’s conflicted reputation. The critic Adam Kirsch pointed out years ago that she “is a descendant not just of Neil Simon but of all the family playwrights of the 1950s.” Yet unlike Simon and, say Arthur Miller, during her lifetime, critics derided her for being too glib. About her 1992 play, The Sisters Rosensweig, the critic and director Robert Brustein said “wisecracks come too easily to her.” A 1994 New York Times article wondered how a play about “bickering middle aged Jewish sisters” was selling out.
Some producers judged her plays “too New York,” which she retorted was code for too Jewish. Even worse, magazine features regularly mentioned her giggling, her weight, her single status, and her age, as though they explained something. She’s “pushing 40,” Newsweek proclaimed in 1989. A 1993 New York Magazine profile announced: “She’s finally starting to feel comfortable with herself. She recently lost 40 pounds.” These details remind me of the ones used to discredit Betty Friedan. They point to the way the press collaborated in minimizing women writers well after second-wave feminism supposedly eradicated it.
Moving towards a new way of writing
About the 1997 production of An American Daughter, Wasserstein told an interviewer she had wanted to write something that “was not just Jewish jokes.” And in part because the Jewish comedy and characters in it are darker than, say, The Sisters Rosenswieg, some critics judged it to be her strongest play. But it’s ultimately a strange piece of theater. It seems like it is moving towards another way of writing, which we didn’t get to see because she didn’t live long enough.
Like Heidi Holland, Lyssa, the central figure in An American Daughter is not Jewish. She is a fifth-generation descendant of Ulysses S. Grant. And yet the play, which is set during Rosh Hashanah, contains more direct Jewish references than Wasserstein’s earlier ones. The Jewish characters operate differently — the stakes for outsiders trying to be inside are different in political circles of court. But the balancing act feels most acute in one character who is unique in Wasserstein’s oeuvre — Lyssa’s BFF, Judith B. Kaufman, a Black Jewish oncologist (and a convert) who quips that she “has endured every in vitro and hormone treatment known to modern medicine.” (In a 1995 reading of the play, Whoopi Goldberg played this role.)
Wasserstein wrote in the introduction to the published version that Kaufman — one of her few Black characters — is the one “emotionally closest” to her. Daniel Sullivan, who directed the 1997 production, said in an interview that, with Kaufman, “she [Wasserstein] is drawing so much from herself.”
And yet this is not just autobiography plopped on stage. Perhaps she was influenced by Tony Kushner’s Angels in America, which ran on Broadway in 1992. Regardless, Wasserstein engineers some of the play’s most unnerving tonal swerves around Kaufman, swerves that bind questions of gender to those of race in ways that are unlike anything she had ever written. One minute, Kaufman is confessing to Lyssa her failure to drown herself during the Jewish ritual of Tashlich, the festival of regrets, during Rosh Hashanah. The next she is making a joke. And a few lines later, Lyssa is delivering a harsh rebuke that seems more like something from a play of ideas.
This sequence starts with Kaufman recounting to her friend the ritual where Jews throw breadcrumbs into water to absolve their bad acts. As she tells Lyssa, she throws her muffin top into the Potomac chanting “‘…Oh Lord, my God, the Lord is one, I’ve wasted my life,’ and I jump in.” Then she sees a box of donut holes, which cheers her up. She gets out of the water. But here Lyssa seems to snap: “What gives you the audacity to believe you’ve failed if you can’t make life or stop death?”
The moment seems like more than a friend’s rebuke and more like a white paper on the aftermath of feminism. And it may be what made critics of the 1997 production write sharp critiques such as Wasserstein “doesn’t know entirely where she’s heading or how to get there.” But I think such a hairpin swerve — a moment where it’s not clear if you are supposed to laugh or gasp — is exciting. I think Wasserstein wants me to be unsettled by Kaufman. She wants me to ask what it means to be a Jew and what success and failure mean. Such moments are there to show how desperate women are, how hard they are on each other and themselves. And how in the drive to remake the world, we have misunderstood what’s important. And how although there are fewer ways to live than we think, we still have choices.
Another Jewish character, Lyssa’s philandering professor husband, Walter Abramson, is only slightly less unnerving. He studies the sociology of the elites and declares himself agnostic. (“I was Jewish until I was bar mitzvahed.”) He is the opposite of the callow Scoop Rosenberg in The Heidi Chronicles who abandons Heidi Holland for a Jewish girl. Abramson has amplified his assimilation by marrying a non-Jew. And — I wonder if I’m imagining it —Wasserstein seems to link his philandering to his assimilation.
Navigating the upheaval of a generation
Wasserstein’s Jewish roots were, like many Jewish artists and writers born after the Holocaust, complex. She was born in 1950 in Flatbush, the youngest child of immigrant parents. Her father, Morris, ran a successful textile factory with his brother and patented velveteen. In Wasserstein’s telling, her mother, Lola, sounds like a cliché, making Wendy take dance lessons and comparing her unfavorably to her conventionally successful siblings, Georgette, and Bruce, who would become a financier. Less cliché are two half siblings ‚ the children of her mothers previous marriage to her uncle ‚ Sandra, and a developmentally disabled half-brother Abner who she first met in her twenties.
The family moved to the Upper East Side when Wasserstein was 12. She attended The Calhoun School, where she wrote skits to get out of Phys Ed. Next was Mt. Holyoke, where she got terrible grades. In 1973, she was accepted to The David Geffen School of Drama. She was the only female playwright in her class. “I decided I wanted to see an all-women’s curtain call,” she recalled at a moment when hyper-masculine playwrights were all the rage. “There were an awful lot of would-be Sam Shepards, and Wendy felt a little left out,” her friend, the playwright Chris Durang, told The Paris Review.
In 1989, after The Heidi Chronicles won a Pulitzer and a Tony for best play (the next woman to win the Tony for Best Play would be Bess Wohl, whose 2026 play, Liberation, about second-wave feminism, closed early) radical feminist journalists and scholars scorned Wasserstein’s realist dramaturgy, charged her of ridiculing the movement, of writing heroines who were more acted upon than acting. Although after her death some reconsidered when the last major revival of Heidi in 2015, closed early, The New York Times proclaimed that the ideal of “having it all” no longer captured anything about the zeitgeist.
It’s true that Lyssa doesn’t so much rail against the unfairness of the media circus destroying her as tolerate it. Until she doesn’t. (Some critics of previous productions called her a cipher and others that the play was too topical.) But to me it’s real. Moreover, I can’t think of another play showing middle-aged women in a larger context than The Family Drama. Much less one dealing with the backlash against second-wave feminism with multiple Jewish characters.
Moreover, Wasserstein’s realist dramaturgy may be old-fashioned but few American playwrights deal so frankly with daughters — including Jewish daughters —navigating the upheaval of the 60s and 70s and sometimes ending up alone. Wasserstein never underestimates the cost of sticking to your principles. Lena Dunham has said she was fascinated by Heidi.
An old play in a new era
Wasserstein herself thought the negative reviews of An American Daughter were sexist. In 1997, most of the first night theater critics were men. Newsday’s Linda Winer, the only one to review An American Daughter positively, described it as reminiscent of George Bernard Shaw. I think a better comparison is the one Wasserstein herself made. She called Henrik Ibsen her “postfeminist muse.” Like Ibsen’s characters, Wasserstein’s can seem like symbols one minute and real people the next. They often wind up alone with their convictions.
It will be interesting to see how the play is received now, when the chief critics at The New York Times and The New Yorker are women. And interesting too to see how audiences respond to it in a postfeminist world where Jewish plays of the moment are about Oct. 7 or the Holocaust.
Plus ça change is the point of view of Jean Lichty, who became interested in the play after Kamala Harris lost the presidential election. “I was devastated by Hillary. I was twice as devastated by Kamala,” she said in an interview, adding that the play’s rage appealed to her.
Lichty stresses that the cast is older in this production. “I think that raises the stakes.”
But the big difference is that the script is revised from the 1997 one, especially Act II. The production weaves together eight drafts that Wasserstein did during rehearsals of the play in regional productions, including Chicago’s Organic Theatre, and the 2000 teleplay starring Christine Lahti. (It’s worth mentioning that, even revised, the regional productions received mixed reviews.)
The Wasserstein estate approved the changes and Andre Bishop, the former artistic director of Playwrights Horizons and co-executor of the estate, came to rehearsal and gave notes.
Maybe the most notable change is that whereas in the 1997 New York production, Lyssa stays with her cheating husband, the 2026 version ends with the two female friends.
JUDITH: What will you do now?
LYSSA: I don’t know. Same as you. Rise and continue.
She is quoting a letter from Ulysses S. Grant to his wife, Julia Dent Grant, for whom Lyssa is named.
If this ending seems ambivalent it is also real. It gives a consolation that doesn’t seem phony: You have to live with regrets and compromises and go on.
The post Is it time for a Wendy Wasserstein renaissance? appeared first on The Forward.
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Meet the only Jewish president of a Catholic university
Synagogue president and Catholic university president aren’t typically jobs one holds concurrently.
But in 2023, Greg Weiner became president of both Assumption University, a Catholic college in Worcester, Mass., and Congregation Beth Israel, a Conservative synagogue in the area.
Weiner’s inauguration in March of that year made him the first and only Jewish president of a Catholic university — one with the motto “Until Christ be formed in you.”
To him, the combination just made sense.
“I never had any hesitation at all about whether being a Jewish president would work — quite the opposite,” Weiner told the Forward. “The divide in society between people who do and don’t treat religion seriously is much wider than between particular religions.”
Shortly after Weiner’s inauguration, college presidents found themselves in the national spotlight as pro-Palestinian protesters built tent encampments on college campuses across the country in the aftermath of Oct. 7
During that time, Weiner became a figurehead for an unconventional idea: that Jewish students who felt unwelcome at secular universities ought to consider attending Catholic institutions like Assumption instead.
Now, Weiner continues to make the case that Catholic schools have much to offer Jewish students.
“The challenge for Jewish families, Jewish parents, Jewish students, is we have to ask ourselves: Do we value education, or do we simply value the prestige that’s associated with certain universities?” Weiner said. “Because, in a lot of cases, those seem to be inversely correlated.”
How Weiner became president
To state the obvious: Appointing a non-Catholic to head a Catholic university was not a risk-free choice.
How would students, faculty and trustees react? Would the university, founded in 1904 by the Catholic Augustinian order known as the Assumptionists, be accused of turning away from its Catholic history, character and mission?
Historically, Catholic universities were exclusively led by priests from the Catholic order that founded the school. Universities like Notre Dame have continued that tradition; every president since its founding in 1842 has been a priest of the Congregation of Holy Cross.
But as Catholic universities have increasingly sought to attract students of all faiths — and as the number of priests available to lead universities has declined — more laypeople have taken the helm. For instance, Loyola University in Chicago named the first laywoman instead of a priest as president in 2016. The Jesuit Fordham University did the same in 2022, breaking with its 200-year tradition.
“I wouldn’t entirely downplay some tensions here, as much as the motto of our university is ‘Until Christ be formed in you,’” said the Rev. Dennis Gallagher, an Assumptionist priest who serves as Vice President for Mission at Assumption University. “Clearly, he’s not going to give personal credence to that particular expression.”
But Gallagher said he was won over by how Weiner articulated the value of a Catholic liberal education, which emphasizes inquiry and debate — values that also happen to be very Jewish.
An Assumption education asks humanity’s’ “enduring questions,” and attracts the kind of students who “haven’t determined that they know the answers to those things before they arrive,” Gallagher said.
Weiner, who draws parallels between Talmudic debate and Assumption’s inquiry-driven approach to education, was well-positioned to promote those ideals, Gallagher said.
Weiner was also not an outsider at Assumption. After a career in Democratic politics that included working as press secretary for then-Nebraska Sen. Bob Kerrey and getting his PhD in government at Georgetown University, Weiner joined the faculty at Assumption in 2011 as a political science professor. He quickly rose the ranks, becoming provost and vice president for academic affairs in 2019. After former Assumption President Francesco Cesareo announced his retirement in 2022, Weiner became interim leader.
Gallagher said he didn’t think trustees were seriously considering Weiner for the job of president at the time. But when Weiner excelled in the interim role, the choice became clear.
“I remember saying, ‘I think what we’re looking for is right here with us,’” Gallagher said. “Somebody that can both understand and communicate what a Catholic — albeit not being Catholic himself — what a Catholic liberal education is about.”
In the end, Weiner’s appointment drew far more celebration than controversy, with the university actively embracing his Jewish identity. A rabbi bestowed a special blessing upon Weiner at his inauguration.
A Jewish haven?
Weiner, who grew up as a member of the lone Jewish family in the small town of Luling, Texas, is comfortable with being the only Jew in the room.
When a childhood friend expressed concern that Weiner was going to hell, he took it as “a very ham-handed way of expressing genuine caring,” he said. “I was born without the gene that tells you to get offended quickly.”
That same instinct carried into his career. At first, Weiner said, he didn’t publicly lean into his Judaism as part of the presidency. But in the aftermath of the attacks of Oct. 7, he felt “a particular responsibility to speak out.”
In December 2023, Weiner made a splash with a Wall Street Journal op-ed suggesting Jewish students feeling alienated from Ivy League campuses ought to consider Catholic schools like Assumption.
At the time, other Catholic schools were also explicitly courting Jewish students amid turmoil over Israel and antisemitism on college campuses across the country.
Still, it was an unconventional pitch: Assumption has no Hillel or Chabad on campus, and students are required to take Catholic theology courses where they learn about Christian morality, sacraments and other church doctrine.
But whatever Assumption lacked in Jewish religious life, Weiner said it has made up for in campus culture. Assumption had no student encampments protesting Israel after Oct. 7, in part, Weiner said, because Assumption students are more interested in arguing over ideas in a philosophy class than organizing a protest.
Weiner, who has written four books on political theory and previously worked as a political aide for several Democratic politicians, said students on campus hold a range of views about Israel. But Assumption is not a place filled with student activists.
“Too many campuses have encouraged moral certainty, intellectual certainty, when Socrates says, ‘Philosophy begins with a confession of ignorance,’” Weiner said. “Education requires a certain amount of humility.”
Eli Beberman told the Forward he initially chose Assumption in 2018 because it was close to home and had a strong secondary education program. He expected being Jewish at a Catholic school might require some adjustment. He never imagined the university’s president would become Jewish his senior year.
“Seeing upper level leadership at Assumption also be Jewish was a really cool experience for me,” Beberman said.
Assumption was a place where interfaith friendships thrived, Beberman said. Though there was no Hillel on campus, Beberman was able to pray in an interfaith space with a Torah. He also celebrated Jewish holidays with non-Jewish friends, hosting Shabbat dinners and a Hanukkah party in the dorms, where his parents brought over their “famous brisket.”
“I was able to practice my religion how I wanted to, and I felt very comfortable on campus being a non-Catholic student,” Beberman said.
Jewish faculty members, too, said Weiner’s presidency changed how they saw the university.
Samantha Goldman, a Jewish associate professor of special education at Assumption, said she didn’t seek out a job at a Catholic institution. But once she got there, she was surprised at how natural the environment felt.
“Having a Jewish president of a Catholic institution really communicates this sense of welcoming and inclusivity that might not otherwise be apparent,” she said.
Others were drawn specifically to the culture Weiner fostered. In 2024, Mary Jane Rein left her job as executive director of the Strassler Center for Holocaust and Genocide Studies at Clark University. She said Clark had failed to properly support her after students protested a talk she helped organize featuring an Israeli reservist. That inspired her to come to Assumption, where she launched the Center for Civic Friendship, which helps students engage in civil discourse across ideological divides.
“To my surprise as both a scholar and a Jew,” Rein wrote in the Wall Street Journal, “I feel a warmer welcome and more commonality of purpose at a Catholic institution than at Clark, a secular one.”
That same year, Weiner was reappointed for a five-year term through May 2030 in an announcement trustees said reflected “deep confidence in his leadership.”
To Weiner, the success of his presidency is evidence that Judaism and Catholicism are not as far apart as they may seem.
“Obviously, [there are] some foundational theological differences,” Weiner said. “But with respect to the educational commitments, I think they’re quite compatible.”
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The secret Jewish history of the ‘Rocky Horror Picture Show’
“Rocky Horror,” which opened in London cinemas on this day in 1975 is the cultural phenomenon that simply refuses to die. Rather, since its first incarnation as a 1973 London stage musical, “The Rocky Horror Picture Show” has been continuously reborn on the silver screen, in subsequent Broadway stage productions, and, in 2016, as a direct-to-TV film, starring Laverne Cox of “Orange Is the New Black” fame as the transgender Dr. Frank-N-Furter, the mad-scientist role originated by Tim Curry.
In all its incarnations, however, “Rocky Horror” has always been more than just a performance. Its appeal has been widely driven as a participatory event. Film critic Roger Ebert summarized it best writing about the original 1975 film: “‘The Rocky Horror Picture Show’ is not so much a movie as more of a long-running social phenomenon,” because “the fans put on a better show than anything on the screen.” What Ebert refers to is the interactive tradition that has grown up around “Rocky Horror,” whereby fans attend midnight showings primed for a party as much as a screening: reciting the lines out loud along with the characters and interspersing them with “callouts” — responses that have been accepted into the Rocky Horror canon much as the Talmud is commentary on the Mishnah that has in and of itself become part of the sacred text. In the case of “Rocky Horror,” this also includes activities, such as throwing rice or confetti in the air when the married couple in the film leaves the church; squirting water pistols during a rainstorm; and tossing rolls of toilet paper when one character says “Great Scott!”
In one of the most overtly Jewish moments in and outside of the film, a speech by Dr. Frank-N-Furter hailing the creation of the Golem-like creature of the title, Rocky Horror, is met by chaotic noisemaking on the part of the partygoers onscreen and off. In the original film, some of the crowd generates noise with ratchets – a percussion instrument that looks suspiciously like a gragger, as if Dr. Frank had said “Haman.” There are other Purim-like touches in the film, such that temple congregations have made “Rocky Horror” into part of their annual ritual, such as a “Rockin’ Hora Purimshpiel” in which several of the musical numbers are rewritten as Purim songs.
Other Judaized versions of “Rocky Horror” that have appeared over the years include “Hebrew Horror,” which was staged in Los Angeles in 2007, and the “Rocky Hora Chanukah Song” by the Jewish punk-rock parody group, the Shlomones (sort of a redundancy, since several members of the Ramones were in fact Jewish, as was their outlook in numerous ways, including their song, “Bonzo Goes to Bitburg.”
The original London stage version was produced by British-Jewish theatrical impresario Michael White, who was born to Eastern European Jewish-immigrant parents in Glasgow, Scotland. White’s credits had already included the boundary-shattering “Oh! Calcutta!” — the first all-nude revue in commercial theater — and he went on to co-produce the “Rocky Horror” film as well as “Monty Python and the Holy Grail.”
The original musical and film were decades before their time in celebrating the sexual fluidity of the LGBT world – indeed, there wasn’t such a term as LGBT, much less a socio-political acceptance of it, for years to come. The new TV film version is in no small part an effort to seize this cultural moment when LGBT, and particularly transgender issues, are now part of mainstream political and cultural discussion, especially what with the casting of openly trans actress Laverne Cox.
The original did, however, have a political consciousness beyond its seemingly outrageous effort to provoke. Dr. Frank-n-Furter’s lab coat in the movie was inspired by a Nazi concentration camp inmate uniform and was adorned by the pink triangle that the Nazis used to label what we now call LGBT inmates. And in the film at least, there were implications that Frank’s rival, Dr. Scott was a Nazi.
The 2016 version was again produced by music industry legend Lou Adler, who was responsible for turning the stage musical into the original film starring Tim Curry, Susan Sarandon, Barry Bostwick and Meat Loaf. In that version, Eddie was played by American Idol star Adam Lambert, the role played by Meat Loaf in the original Broadway cast and film. Lambert, who starred as Joshua in “The Ten Commandments: The Musical,” has achieved fame as a solo artist and as the replacement for the late frontman Freddie Mercury in the rock band Queen. Lambert’s Jewish mother, Leila, was a dental hygienist.
Seth Rogovoy is a contributing editor to the Forward.
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Sister of pro-Israel stalwart Lindsey Graham secures GOP Senate nomination
(JTA) — South Carolina Sen. Darline Graham defeated U.S. House Rep. Ralph Norman in a special primary runoff on Tuesday, putting her in a dominant position to win the Senate seat left vacant with the death in July of her older brother, the pro-Israel stalwart Lindsey Graham.
The Associated Press called the race two hours after polls closed at 9:01pm. By the time 99% of votes were tallied, Darline Graham had secured 52.3% of the votes to Norman’s 47.7%.
“Tonight is a great victory, but it’s not the finish line,” Graham told her supporters on Tuesday night. “In fact, it is the starting line for an even bigger fight, which lies ahead.”
If Darline Graham goes on to win November’s general election against Democrat Annie Andrews, she will have big shoes to fill. Her brother served 23 years in the Senate and eight in the U.S. House. He traveled to Israel about a dozen times between Hamas’s Oct. 7, 2023 attack on the Jewish state and his death at age 71.
Heading into the primaries, analysts expressed no doubt that Darline Graham would be pro-Israel. But matching Lindsey Graham’s level of foreign policy activity, they warned, would be a formidable task. Meanwhile, her campaign to date has largely avoided discussion of international affairs. Instead, she has focused on domestic concerns like reducing spending, securing borders and promoting Trump-backed policies.
During a debate aired on C-SPAN last week, Graham struggled to respond to a foreign policy question about Taiwan and the South China Sea, ultimately admitting that she’s “not that informed on national security.”
“I’m not a polished politician up here,” she said. “National security is not my thing, not my area of expertise.”
Later addressing issues of affordability, Graham linked the domestic economic situation to the war in Iran and said she trusts President Donald Trump “to get the Strait of Hormuz open.” She also voiced her preference for financial sanctions over putting troops on the ground.
Asked about the country’s relationship with Israel, Graham described the Jewish state as “one of our strongest allies.” Recognizing her brother’s close relationship with Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu, she added that during a recent meeting with the Israeli premier, she vowed to “continue supporting Israel in any way” she can.
“We have to stand with Israel,” Graham said.
At their previous face-off, Graham had secured 33% of the vote, while Norman came in second place, at 25%, against eight fellow Republicans. But South Carolina requires primary winners to earn a majority of votes in order to avoid a two-candidate runoff. In the November general election, Graham will contend with Democrat Annie Andrews, a pediatrician who is unlikely to prevail in the solidly Republican state.
Tuesday’s runoff marked the third time in two months that South Carolina Republicans came to the polls to select a Senate candidate. Lindsey Graham, won the first primary in June but died suddenly the next month from an aortic dissection.
A few days later, South Carolina Gov. Henry McMaster, a Republican, appointed Darline Graham to finish her brother’s term. Though she only had minimal policy experience, including a leadership role at the South Carolina Commission for the Blind, she earned President Donald Trump’s endorsement and declared her candidacy in the full race.
Trump celebrated Graham’s nomination in a Tuesday night Truth Social post, writing that “Darline Graham rides Trump endorsement to win GOP nomination for brother’s South Carolina seat.”
Graham thanked Trump profusely during her Tuesday night acceptance speech, recognizing the president as one of her brother’s “closest friends” and crediting him for helping her secure a victory.
Norman, meanwhile, thanked his supporters on Tuesday night for their “prayer crusade of a campaign,” stressing that he “did not prepare a concession speech.” He accused “outside PACs” of spending $8 million opposing him and blamed the Democrats for this situation, adding that “they got what they wanted.”
He recognized Trump’s role in the race as a supporter of Graham, noting that he “never understood why he got involved” but that it is the president’s prerogative to do so. Nonetheless, Norman pledged that there “won’t be any tears” and that he planned to back Graham.
“I’m not supporting a Democrat, so I will support her, Darline, as best I can,” he added. “We’ll live to fight another day.”
This article originally appeared on JTA.org.
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