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      Mountain of Money Fuels Newsom’s Surge to Recall Election Finish Line

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      The California governor has taken full advantage of the state’s loose financing rules for recall elections, overpowering Republican challengers for whom the cavalry never arrived.Gov. Gavin Newsom’s bid to fend off a recall in California has been bolstered by an infusion of tens of millions of dollars from big donors in recent months that delivered him an enormous financial advantage over his Republican rivals in the race’s final stretch.There had been moments over the summer when Mr. Newsom, a Democrat, had appeared vulnerable in public polls, as California’s unique recall rules seemed to provide an opening to conservatives in one of the most reliably Democratic states in the nation. But Mr. Newsom raised more than $70 million this year into an account to battle the recall, much of it in July and August, allowing him and his allies to dominate the television airwaves and out-advertise his opponents online.California has no limits on donations to recall committees, and Mr. Newsom has taken full advantage of those loose rules. His contributions have included an early $3 million from Reed Hastings, the chief executive of Netflix; $500,000 from the liberal philanthropist George Soros; and $500,000 from the Hollywood producer Jeffrey Katzenberg. Dr. Priscilla Chan, a philanthropist and the wife of the Facebook founder Mark Zuckerberg, contributed $750,000, and the real estate magnate George Marcus gave $1 million.Millions of dollars more have come from interest groups with business before the state, including labor unions representing service workers, teachers and prison guards, the real estate industry and Native American tribes that operate casinos.On the Republican side, the financial cavalry never arrived.Mr. Newsom’s aggressive efforts to keep any other prominent Democrat from running consolidated the party’s financial might toward protecting his post. In a California recall, voters consider two questions: first, whether to recall the governor and second, whom the replacement should be. During the last recall election, in 2003, Democrats struggled to sell the famously unwieldy slogan “no on recall; yes on Bustamante” as Arnold Schwarzenegger, a Republican, swept into the governorship.This year, Democrats and Republicans in the state seem to agree on one thing ahead of the election on Tuesday: The money mattered. All told, Mr. Newsom has spent more battling the recall than he did on his 2018 election.“If Gavin didn’t raise the money, given the amount of apathy and angst, he could have lost,” said Kerman Maddox, a Democratic strategist in California who has also worked as a party fund-raiser. “I’m just going to be real.”Dave Gilliard, a Republican strategist involved in the recall efforts, said of the cash gulf: “It’s definitely made a difference.”Despite the large sums involved in the recall, the race’s total cost is actually less than that of a single ballot measure last year, when Uber and Lyft teamed up to successfully press for rules allowing app-based companies to continue to classify drivers and other workers as independent contractors. That ballot measure drew roughly $225 million in spending because of the state’s many large and costly media markets, including Los Angeles.Mr. Newsom used his financial edge to swamp his Republican rivals and proponents of the recall on television by a nearly four-to-one ratio in July and August, spending $20.4 million to the recall supporters’ $5.6 million, according to data provided by the ad-tracking firm AdImpact. Some of those ads framed the race in the starkest of terms, with one spot saying the recall’s outcome was “a matter of life and death” because of the coronavirus. On YouTube and Google, the financial disparity was even more stark. Mr. Newsom has spent nearly $4.1 million, according to Google disclosure records, while his leading Republican opponent, the radio talk show host Larry Elder, has spent a little more than $600,000.Reed Hastings, the chief executive of Netflix, gave $3 million to Mr. Newsom’s campaign.Cayce Clifford for The New York TimesDr. Priscilla Chan gave $750,000. California has no limits on donations to recall committees.Steve Jennings/Getty ImagesThe sudden emergence of Mr. Elder as the Republican front-runner — he entered the contest in July and had raised more than $13 million by the end of August — provided Mr. Newsom with a ready-made Republican foil. An unabashed conservative, Mr. Elder had left a trail of radio clips in which he outlined positions unpopular with Democrats on issues like the environment, abortion and the minimum wage.“Lo and behold, he got a gift from the gods in the name of Larry Elder, the conservative African American version of Donald Trump,” Mr. Maddox said, adding that the specter of an Elder governorship had motivated big and small donors alike.It had not always been clear that Mr. Newsom would have such a decisive cash advantage. Some party contributors were slow to engage. Ron Conway, a San Francisco-based venture capitalist who organized early anti-recall efforts and fund-raising in the spring in the tech community, said he had been dismissed early on. “At the time, many people thought I was being alarmist,” he wrote in an email. “They don’t think that anymore!”State records show that nearly two-thirds of donations of $10,000 or more to Mr. Newsom’s main anti-recall account came after July 1. And overall, more than 80 percent of the donations over $10,000 to that account came from inside California.“Democrats would rather not have to fund an off-year race in California,” said Dan Newman, an adviser to Mr. Newsom. “But they didn’t hesitate once it was clear what’s at stake.”Mr. Newsom’s campaign said it expected to pass 600,000 donations by the election after running a robust online donation program. Still, much of the money came from giant contributions, with $48.2 million in his main anti-recall account from donations of $100,000 or more.In late August, at a donor retreat in Aspen, Colo., for contributors to the Democratic Governors Association, attendees said there was some grumbling and irritation at the need to divert any resources to a state as blue as California — especially given how many tough governors’ races are set to unfold in 2022.The governors association has sent $5.5 million to the Newsom operation opposing the recall so far.“It doesn’t bode well for Democrats in 2022 if they have to burn millions of dollars on a recall in the most liberal state in America,” said Jesse Hunt, the communications director for the Republican Governors Association.From the start, Mr. Newsom’s campaign framed the recall as a Republican power grab, which made it particularly unappealing for some bigger G.O.P. contributors to inject themselves into the race, according to both national and California Republicans. The state’s unusual requirement that the names of top donors appear in advertisements was also a turnoff, along with general disbelief that California could ever truly be flipped.“You have a lot of people who are for us but who never believe it could be done,” said Anne Hyde Dunsmore, the campaign manager of Rescue California, one of the pro-recall efforts. “No, the money didn’t come in, and no, it wasn’t for a lack of asking.”Larry Elder, who has emerged as Mr. Newsom’s leading challenger, raised $13 million in his first two months in the race.Allison Zaucha for The New York TimesSome significant checks did come. Mr. Elder received $1 million from Geoffrey Palmer, a real estate developer and top Republican donor. Saul Fox, a private equity executive, made a $100,000 donation. And Mr. Elder quickly lapped the rest of the Republican field in fund-raising with big and small donations.John Cox, the Republican who lost to Mr. Newsom in a 2018 landslide, has spent millions of his own dollars running again. Among his costly moves was campaigning with a 1,000-pound Kodiak bear named Tag, who also appeared in Mr. Cox’s ads.Kevin Faulconer, a Republican former mayor of San Diego, raised more than $4 million for his candidacy, and Kevin Kiley, a Republican state assemblyman, raised more than $1 million.Caitlyn Jenner, the transgender activist and former Olympian, received a wave of publicity upon her entrance to the race. But her bid, and her fund-raising, have mostly fallen flat. As of late August, Ms. Jenner had raised less than $1 million and had less than $28,000 in cash on hand — with more than that in unpaid bills.Gale Kaufman, a Sacramento-based Democratic strategist, said the fractured and financially weak Republican field “kept them from ever being able to create a ‘yes’ campaign” — for the recall — “that resonated.”“They’re not speaking with one voice and they’re not saying the same thing,” she said.Mike Netter, a Republican who was one of the recall’s early grass-roots organizers, was frustrated by Democratic attacks that the push was a Republican effort to seize power. He said that little conservative support had materialized after the recall proponents put the measure on the ballot.“If we’re supposedly so Republican-driven, where’s our money? Where’s the air cover from our supposed right-wing secret organizations?” Mr. Netter said, citing the lack of big donations from the party and leading in-state Republicans like Representative Devin Nunes. “No one has believed in us this whole way. And it’s not like we have that kind of money. It’s not like the Koch brothers are my cousins or something. I went to San Diego State.”Shawn Hubler More

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      How Deceptive Campaign Fund-Raising Ensnares Older People

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      Older Americans, a critical source of political donations, often fall victim to aggressive and misleading digital practices. A broad Times analysis points to the scope of the problem.William W. Vaughan Jr. was a senior atmospheric scientist at NASA during the space race and later an accomplished academic, but as with so many aging Americans, time and technology had sapped him of some of his savvy, especially online.Computers made him feel “like a duck out of water,” his son Steve Vaughan said. So when Steve was sorting through the elder Mr. Vaughan’s papers after his death at 90 in December, he was unsettled by what he found on his father’s final credit card bill.The first item was familiar: $11.82 at the local Chick-fil-A in Huntsville, Ala. But every other charge on the first page, and there were dozens of them, was to the firm that processes online Republican campaign contributions, WinRed. Over four months last year, Mr. Vaughan had made 400 donations totaling nearly $11,500 — to Donald J. Trump, Mitch McConnell, Tim Scott, Steve Scalise and many others.The sum was far beyond the realm of his financial ability, his son said, and sure enough, he soon discovered handwritten notes outlining what appeared to be his father’s call disputing the charges with his credit card company. He is still seething at the avalanche of charges and “what they did to a 90-year-old” just before his death.“If it happened to him,” he said, “I have to figure it happened to other people.”It has.Mr. Vaughan died in December at age 90.The dirty little secret of online political fund-raising is that the most aggressive and pernicious practices that campaigns use to raise money are especially likely to ensnare unsuspecting older people, according to interviews with digital strategists and an examination of federal donation and refund data.Older Americans are critical campaign contributors, both online and offline. More than half of all the online contributions processed by WinRed in the last cycle, 56 percent, came from people who listed their occupation as “retired,” federal records show.Digital operatives in both parties deploy an array of manipulative tactics that can deceive donors of all age groups: faux bill notices and official-looking correspondence; bogus offers to match donations and hidden links to unsubscribe; and prechecked boxes that automatically repeat donations, which are widely seen as the most egregious scheme.But some groups appear to specifically target older internet users, blasting out messages with subject lines like “Social Security” that have particular resonance for older people, and spending disproportionately on ads for an older audience. In many cases, the most unscrupulous tactics of direct mail have simply been rebooted for the digital age — with ruthless new precision.“Everybody knows what they’re doing: They’re scamming seniors to line their own pockets and to raise money for campaigns,” said Mike Nellis, a Democratic digital strategist who is critical of deceptive practices.“You are targeting people who are less savvy online, who are more likely to believe what’s put in front of them,” Mr. Nellis said, lamenting tactics that “erase people’s humanity.”It is impossible to tell just how many older Americans are deceived by such methods, because age is not reported on federal filings. One useful measuring stick, digital experts say, is the number of donations that are refunded — which often occurs when contributors feel unsatisfied or duped.The New York Times analyzed refund data from 2020, working with the political information firm Political Data Inc., which matched refunded donors to the voter rolls. The results provide a rare window into just how disproportionately old the universe of donors who receive refunds is.Donation refunds skewed heavily to older peopleRepublican campaigns issued refunds at far higher rates (7.4 percent of WinRed contributions) than Democratic ones (2.3 percent on ActBlue) in the 2020 election. But the age distribution for both parties among California refunds was very similar.

      Note: Donations without an age listed were excluded.Source: Federal Election Commission and Political Data, Inc.Taylor JohnstonThe findings, which looked at refunds in one large and diverse state, California, showed that the average age of donors who received refunds was almost 66 on WinRed and nearly 65 on ActBlue, the equivalent Democratic processing site.Even more revealing: More than four times as much money was refunded to donors who are 70 and older than to adults under the age of 50 — for both Republicans and Democrats.More than 65,000 unique donors, who were refunded a roughly $25 million combined last election, were matched by name and ZIP code in California. The ages of donors being refunded in both parties were very similar, even as Republican campaigns issued online refunds at more than triple the overall rate of Democrats, records show.A Times investigation earlier this year revealed how the Trump operation had made donations automatically recur weekly, and had obscured that fact with extraneous text, causing a multimillion-dollar cascade of refunds and a surge of fraud complaints.Multiple banking officials said the flood of complaints against Mr. Trump’s operation came heavily from older donors. One fraud investigator recalled the case of an 88-year-old who worried that her family would presume she was developing dementia because the repeat charges had blown past her credit card limit.Exploiting the diminishing capacity of older people for cash extends far beyond politics. There is an entire initiative at the Justice Department devoted to elder abuse, and the F.B.I.’s Internet Crime Complaint Center reported nearly $1 billion in losses for those 60 and older in 2020.Most political tactics are legal, though the Justice Department recently called out nonexistent promises to match donations as an example of “material misrepresentations.”“You leverage data, technology, emotion and digital tactics to take advantage of a population,” said Cyrus Krohn, who oversaw digital strategy at the Republican National Committee more than a decade ago and now regrets some of his earlier work. “It’s like a kid in a candy store.”A rally for former President Donald J. Trump at The Villages, a retirement community in Florida, in October.Anna Moneymaker for The New York TimesWhy older people are ‘the perfect target’Daniel Marson, a clinical neuropsychologist who has studied financial decision-making among aging Americans, said older people face a double whammy online when combining their generational lack of familiarity with technology and age-related cognitive declines.The brain itself starts to shift with age, Dr. Marson and other neurological experts said. Processing typically begins to slow. Keeping track of multiple things is harder. Evaluating trustworthiness becomes more of a struggle.“They just don’t have the same digital literacy or capacity to engage in an internet world,” said Dr. Marson, the former director of the Alzheimer’s Disease Center at the University of Alabama at Birmingham.Certainly, millions of aging Americans are still adroit with technology and some don’t decline cognitively until a very advanced age.But even the kinds of silly deceptions that millennials and digital natives might roll their eyes at — like stress-inducing donation countdown clocks — can more easily distract or confuse many retirees who adopted computers later in life.Some campaigns use subject lines like “Final Notice #33716980” — which the Democratic Congressional Campaign Committee recently deployed — that can make it appear as if actual bills are at risk of defaulting. Some use breathless exaggerations, like a recent text from the House Republican campaign arm, which warned it would “lose the House for good!” if everyone did not contribute $9 by midnight.A fund-raising email from the Democratic Congressional Campaign Committee. Personal information has been redacted.Many older people interpret personalized messages literally.Tatenda Musapatike, a Democratic digital strategist, recalled having to explain to some older family members that Joe Biden was not in fact the person sending them an email asking for money.“It’s not naïve or foolish,” she said. “It’s from people being less online.”The daughter of one 69-year-old donor, who spoke on the condition of anonymity to safeguard her father’s wishes to remain private, described a call from her mother last year asking her to intervene in his excessive online contributions. “Mom came to me and said, ‘Dad donated $25,000,’” the woman said. Records show he made hundreds of donations via WinRed to a variety of Republican campaigns.“He’s taking what they say as truth,” she said, adding that he has begun exhibiting early symptoms of mental decline and insists he has not donated as much as he actually has.While she has unsubscribed him from as many email and text lists as she can, she remains worried. “I can’t watch him 24 hours a day,” she said.Text messages sent from the National Republican Congressional Committee urged people to donate with false deadlines and promises of matching contributions.David Laibson, a behavioral economics professor at Harvard who has studied the impact of aging on financial decision-making, said studies showed that half of people in their 80s or older have either some cognitive impairment short of dementia or actual dementia.“Who’s the perfect target?” he said. “They’re in their early 80s, they have a very substantial likelihood of cognitive impairment, and they probably still haven’t depleted their retirement nest egg.”In fact, the records show that more money was refunded to donors who were 80 and older than to adults under 50, on both ActBlue and WinRed, according to the examination of California refund data.ActBlue and WinRed both said they work with customers to solve any problems they encounter, but declined to comment further.Senator Amy Klobuchar of Minnesota, the chairwoman of the Rules Committee, which oversees federal elections administration, noted that many older Americans were particularly isolated during the coronavirus pandemic, and were simultaneously forced to be online more to connect with family and friends. “They had no choice,” she said, “so it is really easy to target them.”Ms. Klobuchar, a Democrat, recently introduced legislation to ban prechecked boxes that repeat donations after the Federal Election Commission unanimously recommended outlawing the practice in the wake of the Times investigation.“Politicians are always courting the votes of seniors,” she said. “Then, behind their backs, they’re scamming them for money. It’s pretty bad.”Some younger donors who are less internet-savvy also donated more than they intended.Daisy DeSimone, left, and her mother, Marian, at their home in New Jersey.Bryan Anselm for The New York TimesMarian DeSimone, the mother of Daisy DeSimone, who has a developmental disability, said her 30-year-old daughter was entrapped in a Republican recurring donation vortex last year that involved hundreds of small contributions totaling $2,700, about 85 percent of which went to two Trump committees.In a joint interview with her mother, Daisy said she contributed more than she intended, “by a lot,” and felt “frustrated” by her experience. She was most impassioned about the overwhelming volume of solicitations: “They would keep coming back to me, they would keep emailing me and texting me.”When her mother logged into her account to try to delete her from various lists, she discovered that the “unsubscribe” link from the Republican National Committee was in plain text. Unlike every other link, it was neither bold nor blue nor underlined. You had to hover above to see that it was a link at all.“Shameful!” she thought. At first, she had blamed her daughter for the deluge of donations. Now she sees her as a victim.Mothership Strategies, a Washington-based digital consulting firm, is known for its aggressive tactics in Democratic politics.Matt McClain/The Washington Post, via Getty Images‘A systemic campaign finance abuse issue’Overall, Republican campaigns issued refunds at far higher rates (7.4 percent of WinRed contributions) than Democratic ones (2.3 percent on ActBlue) in the 2020 election, a gap driven chiefly by Mr. Trump’s prechecked boxes scheme.But some Democratic donors did feel victimized.Susan Kraus is an 81-year-old New Yorker who, federal records show, made around 175 separate donations last year via ActBlue, totaling about $4,500.“That’s impossible,” Ms. Kraus said in an interview. “Never. I don’t know how that happened. But it wasn’t me doing it.” Both she and her son, Brett Graham, said she experiences short-term memory loss.“It’s almost like they were duplicating it,” she said. “Like there were tricks.” She recalls making donations with her phone but nothing at that scale, nor to the range of groups that records show she contributed to.“There isn’t a nice way to spin it,” said Mr. Graham, who helps manage his mother’s financial affairs. “This is a systemic campaign finance abuse issue.” He added that the overlapping pattern of giving was “not what a human being would do.” He was able to receive refunds for roughly $2,500 from two credit cards.The largest share of Ms. Kraus’s donations went to two interconnected groups, Stop Republicans and the Progressive Turnout Project, that she said she had never heard of. Both organizations share a Washington-based digital consulting firm, Mothership Strategies, that Democratic critics have singled out for its aggressive tactics.Of the top 10 Democratic groups with the oldest average age for refunded donors in California during the last election that refunded at least $75,000, all were Mothership clients.Those groups had an average age range of 74 to 78, the analysis of refund data shows. (WinRed does not itemize which campaigns provide refunds to particular donors, so an equivalent examination is not possible.)More than 40 percent of Facebook ads from Stop Republicans and the Progressive Turnout Project reached users over 65, according to a public database compiled by Bully Pulpit Interactive, a Democratic digital consultancy. In comparison, the Biden campaign devoted 18.5 percent of its Facebook ads to that demographic.Mothership said that it does not target people by age. Instead, it said, it screens based on interests and likelihood to donate — and that older people are simply more reliable donors.“We’re proud to raise the funds that allow our clients to outcompete Republican super PACs and elect progressive and diverse Democrats across the country,” Maya Garcia, a principal at Mothership, said in a statement. She added that the leaders of the firm “never want anyone to make an accidental contribution,” that it displays its organizations’ names prominently and that it works “to ensure all refund requests are handled quickly.”The company declined to say if it receives a commission on money it raises online. The Washington Post reported in 2019 that its commission was as high as 15 percent.A debate among Democrats on tacticsToday, most leading Republican groups deploy prechecked recurring boxes and other aggressive tactics, but in Democratic circles a debate is raging about the ethics of online solicitations. There are two clear camps: those who rose through the Democratic Congressional Campaign Committee, the party’s House fund-raising arm, and its highly aggressive program, including Mothership Strategies, and those more aligned with the presidential campaigns of Senator Bernie Sanders.The D.C.C.C.’s operation is one of the few Democratic groups that continue to use the prechecked boxes. It has also experimented with another processing platform while ActBlue moves to block the practice entirely. In June, one fund-raising pitch came from a sender listed as “SOCIAL SECURITY UPDATE (via DCCC)” — though on platforms like Gmail, the D.C.C.C. part was cut off unless people clicked through.Murshed Zaheed, a veteran Democratic digital consultant, is among those pushing for what he calls “ethical email,” which he defined as not deceiving supporters.“I cannot tell you how much I hate the words ‘email list,’” he said. He said the phrase “dehumanizes” people and treats them “as A.T.M. machines.”For Mr. Vaughan, the former NASA scientist, his final credit card bill was a maze of repeating charges to the same campaigns, sometimes on the same day.The note his son discovered had the words “WinRed charges to be refunded” written clearly. It was dated Nov. 25 — the same day that federal records show $1,144 was refunded.It was only about 10 percent of his total giving. His son has been unable to recoup the rest.Rachel Shorey contributed research. More

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      Foster Friess, Big Donor to Republicans, Dies at 81

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      A conservative Christian and wealthy businessman, he gave millions to Rick Santorum and Donald Trump in their presidential bids.Foster Friess, a Wyoming businessman who founded an investment firm, made a fortune and gave a lot of it away to Republican presidential candidates and charities, sometimes with flair, died on Thursday in Scottsdale, Ariz. He was 81.His organization, Foster’s Outriders, which confirmed the death, said he had been receiving care at the Mayo Clinic there for myelodysplastic syndrome, a disorder of the blood cells and bone marrow.Gov. Mark Gordon of Wyoming, who defeated Mr. Friess in the Republican gubernatorial primary in 2018, writing on Twitter, called Mr. Friess “a strong and steady voice for Republican and Christian values.”Mr. Friess’s run for governor was his only try at major elected office. In the political arena he was primarily known for his donations, particularly to the presidential bids of Rick Santorum, the former United States senator from Pennsylvania, in the 2012 and 2016 campaigns. After Mr. Santorum left the 2016 race, Mr. Friess became one of the first Republican megadonors to embrace Donald J. Trump.But to many, the most important support that Mr. Friess, an evangelical Christian, and his wife, Lynnette, provided was to charities. Foster’s Outriders and the Lynn and Foster Friess Family Foundation have provided scholarships, financed work for homeless people, supported water projects in Africa and much more. His organization said Mr. Friess had donated $500 million in his lifetime.His 70th birthday party in 2010 in Jackson Hole, Wyo., where he lived much of the year, was the stuff of legend. The website wyofile.com described it.“In the invitations to the party, Friess, a born-again Christian, had asked the guests to identify their favorite charity that reflected the values of his favorite quote from Galatians: ‘Carry each other’s burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ,’” it wrote in 2011. “He vowed to give $70,000 to the most worthy nominee.”When the time came to announce the winner, the servers at the Four Seasons Resort, where the party was being held, distributed envelopes to the guests.“Friess asked the lucky winner to stand up and shout, and for the other guests to remain seated,” the account continued. “Then he sat back and waited for the mayhem.”As people opened the envelopes, someone at every table stood and shouted, “I won!” He had funded every request, at a cost of $7.7 million.Mr. Friess thanking supporters in 2018 after conceding the Republican nomination to Gov. Mark Gordon of Wyoming. He had been endorsed by Donald Trump Jr. Alan Rogers/The Casper Star-Tribune, via Associated PressFoster Stephen Friess was born on April 2, 1940, in Rice Lake, Wis. His father, Albert, was a cattle rancher, and his mother, Ethel (Foster) Friess, was a homemaker.“I came from nothing,” he told The New York Times in 2018 during his campaign for governor when asked if he himself might be considered one of the “elites” he was railing against. “My mom dropped out of school in eighth grade to pick cotton and save the family farm. My dad had a high school education.”He graduated from the University of Wisconsin in Madison with a degree in business administration and served in the Army as an intelligence officer for a guided-missile brigade at Fort Bliss in Texas.After working in finance for several years, he founded the investment management firm Friess Associates in 1974 and was soon regarded as a first-rate stock picker. His flagship asset, the Brandywine Fund, swelled to more than $15 billion. He sold a controlling interest in Friess Associates to the Affiliated Managers Group in 2001.On the political side, Mr. Friess did more than support candidates. In 2010, he was a founding investor in The Daily Caller, Tucker Carlson and Neil Patel’s conservative news and opinion website.In 2012 Mr. Friess supported Mr. Santorum not so much because he agreed with all his policies — “I try to talk him out of them,” he told the broadcaster Lou Dobbs in February 2012 — but because he thought the Republican Party needed a new face.“These old veteran war horses, they have a hard time making it,” he said on “Lou Dobbs Tonight.” “Dole couldn’t make it, McCain couldn’t make it. On the Democratic side, Gore couldn’t make it and Kerry couldn’t make it. So the Democrats bring these fresh faces, they bring Carter from out of nowhere, they bring Clinton from out of nowhere, they bring Obama from beyond nowhere.”Later that month Mr. Friess made headlines when, on MSNBC, Andrea Mitchell asked him whether Mr. Santorum’s statements on “the dangers of contraception” would hurt his campaign.“Back in my days,” Mr. Friess said, “they used Bayer aspirin for contraception. The gals put it between their knees, and it wasn’t that costly.”Mr. Santorum’s primary campaign started strong but foundered, and Mr. Obama was elected to a second term, defeating Mitt Romney.In the next presidential campaign, Mr. Friess also supported Mr. Santorum initially. In mid-2015, with the Republican field choked with candidates and the nastiness level increasing, he called on the candidates not to “drift off the civility reservation.”In May 2016, with Mr. Santorum out of the race and Mr. Trump having secured the Republican nomination, Mr. Friess threw his support to the Trump cause, though acknowledging that Mr. Trump had advanced by showing the very incivility he had decried — something he expected would change to a more presidential tenor.“Donald’s strategy seems to work,” Mr. Friess told CNN that month, “but I’m convinced he’s going to shift.”Mr. Friess supported Mr. Trump throughout his administration, and when he ran for governor, the Trump family tried to return the favor — the president’s son Donald Jr. endorsed him in an opinion article in The Star Tribune of Casper, Wyo. President Trump himself was quieter, although he did offer a Twitter post late in the campaign endorsing Mr. Friess. Mr. Gordon’s victory was cited by some of as evidence of Mr. Trump’s vulnerability, though others saw it more as a local matter.Three weeks ago, when Darin Smith, a lawyer and businessman who has contended that Mr. Trump “probably” won the 2020 election, announced that he would challenge Representative Liz Cheney, Republican of Wyoming, who has been critical of Mr. Trump, in the 2022 primaries, he said that Mr. Friess would be his campaign chairman.Mr. Friess’s wife of 58 years, Lynnette Estes Friess, survives him, as do their four children, Traci, Stephen, Carrie, and Michael; a brother, Herman; and 15 grandchildren. More

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      Swiss Billionaire Quietly Becomes Influential Force Among Democrats

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      Hansjörg Wyss, who recently dropped his bid to buy Tribune Publishing, has been a leading source of difficult-to-trace money to groups associated with Democrats.WASHINGTON — He is not as well known as wealthy liberal patrons like George Soros or Tom Steyer. His political activism is channeled through a daisy chain of opaque organizations that mask the ultimate recipients of his money. But the Swiss billionaire Hansjörg Wyss has quietly become one of the most important donors to left-leaning advocacy groups and an increasingly influential force among Democrats.Newly obtained tax filings show that two of Mr. Wyss’s organizations, a foundation and a nonprofit fund, donated $208 million from 2016 through early last year to three other nonprofit funds that doled out money to a wide array of groups that backed progressive causes and helped Democrats in their efforts to win the White House and control of Congress last year.Mr. Wyss’s representatives say his organizations’ money is not being spent on political campaigning. But documents and interviews show that the entities have come to play a prominent role in financing the political infrastructure that supports Democrats and their issues.While most of his operation’s recent politically oriented giving was channeled through the three nonprofit funds, Mr. Wyss’s organizations also directly donated tens of millions of dollars since 2016 to groups that opposed former President Donald J. Trump and promoted Democrats and their causes.Beneficiaries of his organizations’ direct giving included prominent groups such as the Center for American Progress and Priorities USA, as well as organizations that ran voter registration and mobilization campaigns to increase Democratic turnout, built media outlets accused of slanting the news to favor Democrats and sought to block Mr. Trump’s nominees, prove he colluded with Russia and push for his impeachment.Several officials from organizations started by Mr. Wyss and his team worked on the Biden transition or joined the administration, and on environmental policy in particular Mr. Wyss’s agenda appears to align with President Biden’s.Mr. Wyss’s growing political influence attracted attention after he emerged last month as a leading bidder for the Tribune Publishing newspaper chain. Mr. Wyss later dropped out of the bidding for the papers.Born in Switzerland and living in Wyoming, he has not disclosed publicly whether he holds citizenship or permanent residency in the United States. Foreign nationals without permanent residency are barred from donating directly to federal political candidates or political action committees, but not from giving to groups that seek to influence public policy — a legal distinction often lost on voters targeted by such groups.Mr. Wyss’s role as a donor is coming to light even as congressional Democrats, with support from Mr. Biden, are pushing legislation intended to rein in so-called dark money spending that could restrict some of the groups financed by Mr. Wyss’s organizations.This type of spending — which is usually channeled through nonprofit groups that do not have to disclose much information about their finances, including their donors — was embraced by conservatives after campaign spending restrictions were loosened by regulatory changes and court rulings, most notably the Supreme Court’s 2010 decision in the Citizens United case.While progressives and election watchdogs denounced the developments as bestowing too much power to wealthy interests, Democratic donors and operatives increasingly made use of dark money. During the 2020 election cycle, groups aligned with Democrats spent more than $514 million in such funds, compared to about $200 million spent by groups aligned with Republicans, according to an analysis by the Center for Responsive Politics.Some of the groups financed by Mr. Wyss’s organizations played a key role in that shift, though the relatively limited disclosure requirements for these types of groups make it impossible to definitively conclude how they spent funds from the Wyss entities.Mr. Wyss and his advisers have honed a “strategic, evidence-based, metrics-driven and results-oriented approach to building political infrastructure,” said Rob Stein, a Democratic strategist.Mr. Stein, who founded the influential Democracy Alliance club of major liberal donors in 2005 and recruited Mr. Wyss to join, added that “unlike most wealthy political donors on the right and left,” Mr. Wyss and his team “know how to create measurable, sustainable impact.”Mr. Wyss, 85, was born in Bern, first visited the United States as an exchange student in 1958, and became enchanted with America’s national parks and public lands. After becoming wealthy while helping lead the Switzerland-based medical device manufacturer Synthes, he began donating his fortune through a network of nonprofit organizations to promote conservation, environmental causes and other issues.The organizations gradually increased their donations to other causes backed by Democrats, including abortion rights and minimum wage increases, and eventually to groups more directly involved in partisan political debates, particularly after Mr. Trump’s election.Asked about the shift, Howard H. Stevenson, who has been close to Mr. Wyss since the two were classmates at Harvard Business School in the 1960s, pointed to Mr. Trump’s sharp reduction to the Bears Ears National Monument in Utah. One of Mr. Wyss’s foundations had teamed with five other foundations to commit $1.5 million to preserving the monument. (The Biden administration is now reviewing Mr. Trump’s policy on Bear Ears, which was broadly opposed by Democrats and conservation groups.)“You don’t have to look at people destroying your work to say maybe you want to try and figure out how you respond in the most effective way,” said Mr. Stevenson, who is an adviser to one of Mr. Wyss’s foundations and whose son sits on the board of another Wyss organization.One of Mr. Wyss’s foundations teamed with five other foundations to commit $1.5 million to preserving Bears Ears National Monument in Utah.KC McGinnis for The New York TimesMr. Wyss did not respond to requests to be interviewed for this article, and most of the people interviewed either declined to discuss him or requested anonymity to do so.Price Floyd, a spokesman for two of Mr. Wyss’s operations — the Wyss Foundation and Berger Action Fund, both of which are based in Washington — pushed back on suggestions that his giving was intended to help the Democratic Party, suggesting that his focus was on issues important to him.He described Mr. Wyss in a statement as “a successful businessman turned philanthropist who has pledged over a billion dollars to conserve nature and also sought to bolster social welfare programs in the United States.”The Wyss Foundation, which is housed in a stately 19th-century Georgian Revival mansion in the Dupont Circle neighborhood of Washington, had assets of more than $2 billion at the end of 2019, according to its most recent tax filing.It is registered under a section of the tax code that prohibits it from spending money to expressly support partisan political campaigns.But it can, and does, donate to groups that seek to influence the political debate in a manner that aligns with Democrats and their agenda, including the Center for American Progress, a liberal think tank where Mr. Wyss sits on the board. The organization was started by John D. Podesta, a top White House aide to Presidents Bill Clinton and Barack Obama. A foundation that Mr. Wyss led as chairman and that has since merged with the Wyss Foundation paid Mr. Podesta as an adviser, and the two men remained close, according to associates.The Berger Action Fund, which shares facilities and staff with the Wyss Foundation, had assets of nearly $65 million at the end of March 2020, according to its most recent tax filing. The fund is registered under a section of the tax code that allows it to spend money supporting and opposing candidates, or to donate to groups that do.Mr. Floyd said Berger Action had its own policy barring “any of its funding from being used to support or oppose political candidates or electoral activities.”Because the recipients of funds from Mr. Wyss’s organizations do not have to disclose many details about their finances, including which donations are used for which projects, it is not clear how they have used the money originating from Mr. Wyss’s operation. But some of the groups funded by Berger Action helped pay for campaign ads helping Democrats and attacking Republicans including Mr. Trump, or gave to other groups that did.The voluntary restriction is potentially notable, given questions about Mr. Wyss’s citizenship.While Mr. Wyss donated nearly $70,000 to Democratic congressional candidates and left-leaning political action committees from 1990 to 2003, he does not appear to have made any such donations to federal candidates or PACs since.Mr. Wyss’s representatives provided the tax filings documenting the expansion of recent giving to politically oriented groups only after requests from a lawyer for The New York Times, and after Mr. Wyss dropped his bid for Tribune Publishing. Such filings are legally required to be made public upon request. The tax filings show that his organizations’ biggest grants in recent years went to entities that mostly dispense funds to other groups, and sometimes act as incubators for new outfits intended partly to serve functions seen as lacking on the left. Voters casting their ballots in Topeka, Kan., in the 2018 midterm elections. While little known by the public, Mr. Wyss and his foundations have come to play an increasing role in financing the political infrastructure that supports Democrats and their issues.Barrett Emke for The New York TimesBetween the spring of 2016 and the spring of 2020, the Berger Action Fund donated more than $135 million to the Sixteen Thirty Fund, which has become among the leading dark money spenders on the left, filings from the Internal Revenue Service and Federal Election Commission show.One of the nonprofit groups managed by a for-profit consulting firm called Arabella Advisors, Sixteen Thirty donated more than $63 million to super PACs backing Democrats or opposing Republicans in 2020, including the pro-Biden groups Priorities USA Action and Unite the Country and the scandal-plagued anti-Trump group Lincoln Project, according to Federal Election Commission filings.Another nonprofit managed by Arabella, the New Venture Fund, which is set up under a section of the tax code barring it from partisan political spending, received more than $27.6 million from the Wyss Foundation from 2016 through 2019.Tax filings by the Sixteen Thirty Fund and New Venture Fund do not indicate how they spent the funds from Mr. Wyss’s groups, nor do tax filings submitted by the Sacramento-based Fund for a Better Future, which passes money from donors to groups that push to shape the political process in a way that helps Democrats. The Fund for a Better Future has received the majority of its funding — nearly $45.2 million between the spring of 2016 and the spring of 2020 — from the Berger Action Fund.The Sixteen Thirty Fund, New Venture Fund and Fund for a Better Future did not answer questions about how they spent funds from Mr. Wyss’s organizations, except to say that the money did not go to partisan campaign efforts.Sixteen Thirty and New Venture have helped create and fund dozens of groups, including some that worked to block Mr. Trump’s nominees and push progressive appointments by Mr. Biden.Among the groups under the umbrella of Sixteen Thirty and New Venture is the Hub Project, which was started by Mr. Wyss’s philanthropic network in 2015 as a sort of incubator for groups backing Democrats and their causes, as first reported by The Times. It created more than a dozen groups with anodyne-sounding names that planned to spend $30 million attacking Republican congressional candidates before the 2018 election.In response to questions about donations being passed through to other organizations, Mr. Floyd said the board of the Berger Action Fund has begun in recent years placing “a greater emphasis on supporting other nonprofit organizations or grant-making organizations, like the Sixteen Thirty Fund, that help identify, support and grow promising public interest projects.”Several officials from the Hub Project were hired by the Biden administration, including Rosemary Enobakhare, a former Environmental Protection Agency official in the Obama administration who returned to the agency under Mr. Biden; Maju Varghese as director of the White House Military Office; and Janelle Jones as chief economist for the Labor Department.Molly McUsic — the president of the Wyss Foundation and the Berger Action Fund, and a former board member of the Fund for a Better Future and the Sixteen Thirty Fund — was a member of the Biden transition team that reviewed Interior Department policies and personnel. 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      Supreme Court Wary of Donor Disclosure Requirement for Charities

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      The case, from California, could affect the regulation of “dark money” in political contests.WASHINGTON — The Supreme Court on Monday seemed skeptical of California’s demand that charities soliciting contributions in the state report the identities of their major donors.A majority of the justices appeared to agree that at least the two groups challenging the requirement — Americans for Prosperity, a foundation affiliated with the Koch family, and the Thomas More Law Center, a conservative Christian public-interest law firm — should prevail in the case.It was less clear whether the court would strike down the requirement entirely for all charities as a violation of the First Amendment’s protection of the freedom of association. And the justices gave few hints about whether their ruling, expected by June, would alter the constitutional calculus in the related area of disclosure requirements for campaign spending.Justice Stephen G. Breyer repeated concerns expressed in supporting briefs that the case could have broad implications. “This case is really a stalking horse for campaign finance disclosure laws,” he said.In the context of elections, the Supreme Court has supported laws requiring public disclosure. In the Citizens United campaign finance decision in 2010, the court upheld the disclosure requirements before it by an 8-to-1 vote. In a second 8-to-1 decision that year, Doe v. Reed, the court ruled that people who sign petitions to put referendums on state ballots do not have a general right under the First Amendment to keep their names secret.If the approach of the groups challenging California’s requirement for charities were adopted, Justice Sonia Sotomayor said, “I don’t see how the public disclosure at issue in Doe would have survived.”Derek L. Shaffer, a lawyer for the challengers in Monday’s case, said that the electoral context was different and that charities needed protection given the nation’s volatile political climate. He added that California’s reporting requirement subjected donors to the real potential of harassment, particularly in light of the state’s history of failing to keep the donor lists secret.“Think about medical organizations that may take views about masking, about vaccinations,” he said.Contributing to a charity for Asian-Americans, he said, might have seemed uncontroversial not long ago. “But today, in 2021, sad to say,” he said, “it could be a life-or-death issue that their identities have been disclosed.”Justice Clarence Thomas appeared to agree that donors may be endangered by disclosures of their identities. “In this era,” he said, “there seems to be quite a bit of loose accusations about organizations — for example, an organization that had certain views might be accused of being a white supremacist organization or racist or homophobic.”The challengers received support from hundreds of groups across the ideological spectrum, including the Chamber of Commerce, the Cato Institute, the Electronic Frontier Foundation, the American Civil Liberties Union, and the NAACP Legal Defense and Educational Fund.Justice Brett M. Kavanaugh read from a supporting brief filed by the last two groups: “A critical corollary of the freedom to associate is the right to maintain the confidentiality of one’s associations, absent a strong governmental interest in disclosure.”The case, Americans for Prosperity v. Bonta, No. 19-251, concerned a requirement that charities file with California a copy of an Internal Revenue Service form that identifies major donors. Federal law requires the I.R.S. to keep the form confidential.California also promised to keep the forms secret, but it has not always done so. According to court papers, it had inadvertently displayed over 1,800 forms on its website. The state has said that it has imposed new security measures.Justice Samuel A. Alito Jr. said there was little reason to trust the state. “The brief filed by the A.C.L.U. and the NAACP Legal Defense Fund says that we should regard your system as a system of de facto public disclosure because there have been such massive confidentiality breaches in California,” he told Aimee A. Feinberg, a lawyer for California.She responded that a judge had said the state’s efforts “to rectify past lapses and to prevent them in the future were commendable.”Mr. Shaffer said California had other ways to investigate potential fraud, including by auditing individual charities.Justice Elena Kagan said not all charities objected to making their donors’ names public, suggesting that a blanket rule was not needed. “Most charities disclose their donors,” she said. “In fact, it’s part of their strategy, that the more disclosure there is, the more fund-raising and association there is.”Mr. Shaffer said that anything less than a ruling doing away with the requirement entirely for all charities “will be a Pyrrhic victory.” Requiring thousands of charities to litigate whether their donors could be subject to harassment would be, he said, a burden at odds with First Amendment freedoms.Elizabeth B. Prelogar, the acting United States solicitor general, proposed a middle ground that did not seem to interest the justices. She urged the Supreme Court to return the case to the federal appeals court in California for a fresh look at whether the two groups challenging the requirement had provided sufficient evidence that their own First Amendment rights had been violated. More

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      After Capitol Riots, Billionaire’s ‘Scholars’ Confront Their Benefactor

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      AdvertisementContinue reading the main storySupported byContinue reading the main storyAfter Capitol Riots, Billionaire’s ‘Scholars’ Confront Their BenefactorMore than 160 participants in a master’s program funded by the Blackstone founder Stephen Schwarzman have urged him to stop donating to election objectors. He has declined.Stephen Schwarzman opened his namesake program at Tsinghua University in Beijing in 2016.Credit…Getty ImagesFeb. 18, 2021Updated 1:33 p.m. ETThe private equity billionaire Stephen A. Schwarzman has spent many years financing educational programs, from his old high school to the Ivy League.But the Blackstone chief executive’s largess hasn’t always bought good will: There was swift opposition to his proposal to put his name on Abington Senior High School in Pennsylvania, and his close ties to former President Donald J. Trump contributed to opposition to having his name on a campus center he funded at Yale.And now, some participants in the Schwarzman Scholars program — a master’s course he established at Tsinghua University in Beijing to be a Chinese analogue to the Rhodes Scholarships — are speaking out against their benefactor.They say Mr. Schwarzman is failing to live up to his own values and harming the program’s reputation by not cutting off money to lawmakers who opposed certifying President Biden’s electoral victory.In a letter emailed to Mr. Schwarzman on Feb. 10, 161 current and past Schwarzman Scholars and two program professors urged Mr. Schwarzman to cut off those politicians and groups. “You espoused integrity, honesty and courage,” they wrote. “Now, we ask that you demonstrate those values by refusing to financially support those who would overturn the results of a free and fair election for their own political gain.”About an hour later, Mr. Schwarzman — who with his wife was the third-largest donor to the objecting lawmakers, according to an analysis by the Center for Responsive Politics — refused.Although the election certification vote would be “one of the major factors” in determining whom he supported in the future, Mr. Schwarzman wrote, “I value my constitutional right to carefully determine who I vote for and support.”The rift centers on one of Mr. Schwarzman’s fondest achievements, a one-year graduate program started with a $100 million donation from him and augmented with $450 million he raised from others. Up to 200 students take part each year, living and learning in a building designed by Robert A.M. Stern Architects — called Schwarzman College — with coursework focused on Chinese history, leadership and global affairs.Mr. Schwarzman and his wife, Christine, at the Metropolitan Museum of Art in 2018 for the Met Gala.Credit…Justin Lane/EPA, via ShutterstockBut some of the letter’s signers have begun to question whether having “Schwarzman Scholar” on their résumé is as much a risk as it is a benefit.“I feel like I cannot in good conscience allow my name to be associated with someone who refuses to commit not to donate to such people,” said Alistair Kitchen, a program alumnus who helped organize support for the letter.Mr. Kitchen, 29, an Australian who works in New York for Collective Impact, a strategy firm that focuses on progressive causes, said some scholars felt their association with the program could taint them, even as it burnished Mr. Schwarzman’s legacy, which Mr. Kitchen called a form a “reputation laundering.”For Ashlie Koehn, who had worked her way through the University of Kansas and joined the Kansas Air National Guard before becoming a Schwarzman Scholar, the program was a revelation — the first time she’d been able to focus on academics and not cost. But she said Mr. Schwarzman seemed not to understand the extent of his influence.“He has this self-perception of himself as an average American citizen, which he is in some ways,” said Ms. Koehn, 30, who works in state government. “But I think it disregards the fact that he has this outsized capital, and his donations give him an outsize impact.”A quarter of the more than 600 students who have participated in the program since 2016 signed the letter, including 18 anonymously. Some scholars supported the letter, organizers said, but feared repercussions in their professional lives if they signed.Others had different reasons for declining. Charles Vitry, a London-based alumnus of the program’s 2018 class, did not sign, although he said he “respected and appreciated the principles” of those who did. He said he also saw a need for “a broader community space to discuss challenging issues.”A spokesman for Mr. Schwarzman noted that the program had started in 2013 — “long before the 2016 election” — and that Mr. Schwarzman had supported congressional Republicans across the board in 2019 at the recommendation of G.O.P. leader, Representative Kevin McCarthy of California. “The majority of candidates Steve donated to voted to certify the results — as Steve had repeatedly called for,” said the spokesman, Matt Anderson.A spokeswoman for the Schwarzman Scholars program, Ellie Gottdenker, said in a statement that the program “remains true to its global mission and reputation as a world-class bridge for mutual understanding between China and the rest of the world.”The Schwarzman Scholars building at Tsinghua University.Credit…Getty ImagesThis is not the first time that Mr. Schwarzman has made a foray into educational philanthropy and faced opposition from those who benefit. Nor is it the first time that the opposition stemmed from his political positions.After Mr. Schwarzman donated $150 million to Yale, his alma mater, in 2015 to construct a building for events and informal gatherings to be named the Schwarzman Center, some professors and students complained about Blackstone’s business practices and his ties to Mr. Trump.In 2018, he pledged $350 million to build a new computer science center at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, also to be named after him, which drew opposition on similar grounds.The same year, he pledged $25 million to help upgrade the high school he attended in suburban Philadelphia, which agreed to add his name to its own. The proposal set off an immediate backlash, and Mr. Schwarzman and the school quickly shifted course to name only a new science and technology building after him.The friction with the Schwarzman Scholars started almost immediately after the program welcomed its first class in 2016.A portrait of Mr. Schwarzman in the program’s facilities in Beijing.Credit…Getty ImagesSoon after the election, Mr. Schwarzman agreed to lead a business advisory council that made him one of Mr. Trump’s most prominent associates. After Mr. Trump introduced a travel and immigration prohibition aimed at people from predominantly Muslim countries, Mr. Schwarzman received sharp questions from the scholars on a video chat, according to one attendee. He argued that it was important to take a broad view and focus on common ground rather than on differences, the person recalled.Then came the 2020 election, and Mr. Schwarzman’s reaction to the outcome felt like equivocation to some members of the program.On a call with business leaders as votes in battleground states were still being counted, Mr. Schwarzman said he was sympathetic to voters who were skeptical of the counts. Later in the month, he said that the outcome was “very certain” and that Mr. Biden had his full support.When rioters stormed the Capitol, Mr. Schwarzman condemned their actions as an “insurrection” and “an affront to the democratic values we hold dear” in a statement to Blackstone employees and Schwarzman Scholars.But as a number of businesses and trade organizations were announcing that they would withdraw financial support from those who opposed certification of the election, at least two alumni wrote to Mr. Schwarzman raising concerns about his financial support of the objectors; they said he did not reply.Frustrated scholars began discussing a group letter. Mr. Kitchen and his former classmate Ricky Altieri, a 28-year-old Yale law student, circulated drafts over WeChat, text and Signal and eventually settled on a five-paragraph note. It asked that Mr. Schwarzman commit never to donate to any politician or political group that “supported Mr. Trump’s bid to overturn the results of the 2020 U.S. presidential election.”“We believe that donations to such candidates would violate the most basic principles of Schwarzman Scholars and harm its reputation,” the letter said.In his reply, which immediately made its way among current and former scholars, Mr. Schwarzman pushed back, writing that he had publicly supported the certification of Mr. Biden’s victory. Although the large number of objectors left him disappointed and confused, he said, they were “acting legally under the Constitution.”He added, “It is important in a democracy to continue to rely on our constitutional system and not voluntarily agree to be silenced.”Some of the scholars seemed to agree — and cited the program’s influence as one reason.Jacko Walz, 25, a New York-based strategy consultant focused on international development in Latin America, said the program had enhanced his awareness of the world around him and taught him about leadership and moral courage.“I think those topics are really authentically taught there,” Mr. Walz said. “And now that I’ve graduated I hope to practice them all the time.”AdvertisementContinue reading the main story More

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      How Trump Is Pocketing Donors' Cash for the Future

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      AdvertisementContinue reading the main storySupported byContinue reading the main storyTrump’s Sleight of Hand: Shouting Fraud, Pocketing Donors’ Cash for FutureWith breathless, often misleading appeals, the former president promised small donors that he was using the money to fight the election results, but in fact stored much of it for future use.Protesters outside the Supreme Court in December. Many Republican grass-roots donors were drawn in by former President Donald J. Trump’s false promises and “stop the steal” message after the November election.Credit…Anna Moneymaker for The New York TimesShane Goldmacher and Feb. 1, 2021Updated 10:01 p.m. ETFormer President Donald J. Trump and the Republican Party leveraged false claims of voter fraud and promises to overturn the election to raise more than a quarter-billion dollars in November and December as hundreds of thousands of trusting supporters listened and opened their wallets.But the Trump campaign spent only a tiny fraction of its haul on lawyers and other legal bills related to those claims. Instead, Mr. Trump and the G.O.P. stored away much of the money — $175 million or so — even as they continued to issue breathless, aggressive and often misleading appeals for cash that promised it would help with recounts, the rooting out of election fraud and even the Republican candidates’ chances in the two Senate runoff races in Georgia.What fraction of the money Mr. Trump did spend after the election was plowed mostly into a public-relations campaign and to keep his perpetual fund-raising machine whirring, with nearly $50 million going toward online advertising, text-message outreach and a small television ad campaign.Only about $10 million spent by Mr. Trump’s campaign went to actual legal costs, according to an analysis of new Federal Election Commission filings from Nov. 4 through the end of the year.Far more is now sitting in the coffers of a new political action committee, Save America, that Mr. Trump formed after the election and that provides him a fat war chest he can use to pay advisers, fund travel and maintain a political operation. Mr. Trump’s new PAC had $31 million in the bank at the end of 2020 and an estimated $40 million more sitting in a shared party account waiting to be transferred into it.Mr. Trump’s extraordinary success raising money came mostly from grass-roots and online contributors drawn to his lie that the election result would soon be somehow wiped away. Only about a dozen donors gave $25,000 or more to one of Mr. Trump’s committees after Nov. 24. (The lone six-figure donation came from Elaine J. Wold, a major Republican donor in Florida.)“Sophisticated donors are not dumb,” said Dan Eberhart, a major Republican donor who has supported Mr. Trump in the past. “They could see through what Trump was trying to do.”A spokesman for Mr. Trump did not respond to a request for comment.One of the few five-figure checks deposited in December came from the National Fraternal Order of Police PAC. But its executive director, James Pasco, said the group had actually issued the $25,000 donation in early November. He said he did not know why it hadn’t been cashed until December.“The optics of this are terrible,” Mr. Pasco lamented. “We in no way questioned the election at any point, or were involved in an effort to forestall the results.”Still, many Republican grass-roots donors were drawn in by Mr. Trump’s false promises and “stop the steal” message. He fomented intense opposition to the inauguration of President Biden, which eventually culminated in the Jan. 6 riot at the Capitol as flag-waving Trump supporters violently sought to disrupt the certification of Mr. Biden’s victory.All told, more than two million donations flowed to the former president and his shared committees with the Republican National Committee from Nov. 24 to the end of the year. Mr. Trump’s fund-raising did stall drastically after the Electoral College certified Mr. Biden as the winner on Dec. 14.In the two weeks leading up to that day, Mr. Trump and the R.N.C. had raised an average of $2.9 million every day online; in the two weeks after, the average was $1.2 million, according to records from WinRed, the Republican digital donation platform.Despite that slowdown, Mr. Trump still outpaced the online fund-raising of the two Republican senators, Kelly Loeffler and David Perdue, who were competing in the Georgia runoff elections that would determine control of the chamber in the last 39 days of the year, which the most recent federal filings cover.Mr. Trump and his shared committees with the R.N.C. raised $80 million online during that period; Ms. Loeffler and Mr. Perdue combined for closer to $75 million. Both Senate candidates lost.“Absolutely that money was misdirected,” Mr. Eberhart said. “I would have loved to see half that money go to the Georgia Senate races.”Mr. Trump’s campaign appears to have contributed nothing to the Georgia races, despite fund-raising appeals that emphasized the importance of the races; the R.N.C. reported $7.9 million in expenditures aiding Ms. Loeffler and Mr. Perdue.A host of corporations and major donors mostly ignored Mr. Trump in the weeks after the election and poured money instead into the Georgia runoffs. Donations included a $5 million check from the American Petroleum Institute and hundreds of thousands more from oil giants like Chevron and Valero, which were fearful of the impact of a Democratic-controlled Senate.Mr. Trump spoke at a campaign rally in Valdosta, Ga., in December. His campaign appears to have contributed nothing to the Georgia Senate runoffs.Credit…Doug Mills/The New York TimesKenneth Griffin, the chief executive of the financial firm Citadel, donated $10 million to the main Senate Republican super PAC in November. Mr. Griffin’s firm now faces scrutiny for some of its investments related to the GameStop stock that soared last month in a Reddit-driven populist revolt.Stephen A. Schwarzman, the chief executive of the private equity giant Blackstone, who has known Mr. Trump for decades and donated to him in the past, said publicly by mid-November that Mr. Biden had most likely won. Around that time, he gave $15 million to the same Senate Republican super PAC focused on Georgia.“The outcome is very certain today, and the country should move on,” Mr. Schwarzman said in late November.Mr. Trump did incur some legal costs, though there were no disclosed payments to some of the best-known figures in his failed legal fight, including Sidney Powell, the lawyer who spread conspiracy theories and held one news conference in the lobby of the R.N.C., and Rudolph W. Giuliani, the former president’s personal lawyer.Mr. Giuliani’s firm was reimbursed for $63,423 in travel in mid-December. (Another firm run by an ally of Mr. Giuliani, the former New York police commissioner Bernard B. Kerik, was also paid $20,130 in travel reimbursements; Mr. Trump pardoned Mr. Kerik last year for his 2010 conviction on eight felonies.)All told, the Trump campaign paid more than a dozen law firms, including $1.6 million to Kasowitz Benson Torres, more than $500,000 to Jones Day and about $600,000 to Dechert. The law firm of Kurt Hilbert, who was on Mr. Trump’s phone call pressuring the Republican secretary of state in Georgia, Brad Raffensperger, to “find” votes to overturn the election outcome, was paid more than $480,000. A $3 million payment went to the Wisconsin Elections Commission to pay for a recount.One major Republican donor, C. Boyden Gray, who contributed more than $2 million to Republicans in the 2020 cycle, also provided legal consulting for Mr. Trump, earning $114,000.The Trump operation continued to spend on fund-raising, pouring millions into a secretive limited liability company, American Made Media Consultants, for online and text-message advertising. Family members of Mr. Trump and Vice President Mike Pence once served on the board of the company, which had more than $700 million in spending flow through it during the 2020 campaign.In the postelection period, more than $63 million in spending flowed through the company from committees linked to Mr. Trump.The Republican National Committee ended the year with more than $80 million in the bank after the fund-raising blitz, and the party is entitled to a share of the $63 million more in two shared accounts with Mr. Trump. Per an agreement, the R.N.C. collected 25 cents for every dollar Mr. Trump raised online through their joint account in December.One of Mr. Trump’s shared committees with the R.N.C. spent nearly $235,000 on books through a company, Reagan Investments, that has also done work for a PAC controlled by Senator Ted Cruz of Texas. The Trump campaign offered signed copies of a book by Mr. Cruz last fall to donors who gave $75 or more.And, as they have since the beginning of his candidacy in 2015, Mr. Trump’s campaign accounts patronized his businesses in the postelection period.The Trump Victory committee paid $34,000 to the Trump Hotel Collection in its final 2020 filing. The same committee also paid a Trump-owned limited liability company that operates a private plane, DT Endeavor, $39,200 on Nov. 24.Another Trump campaign committee paid $75,000 in rent to the Trump Tower building in December.AdvertisementContinue reading the main story More