The highly dramatic—if not as thoroughly entertaining as advertised—U.S. Senate Republican runoff between Ken Paxton and John Cornyn ended about as soon as counties started reporting their early vote totals Tuesday night, with the attorney general challenger leading by around 20 points—effectively skunking the incumbent. 

This, of course, was little surprise by the time it came to pass—after President Donald Trump made a late endorsement for Paxton in the race last week. The political winds were always at Paxton’s back, while running headlong against Cornyn, who was irreparably tagged as an anti-Trump RINO, a squishy moderate in an era that demands battle-hardened “warriors”—those whose total fealthy to Trump is unquestioned. 

Cornyn had hoped to pull off a rare incumbent runoff victory as Trump stayed on the sidelines through much of the race. But the well-over-$100 million that he and his allied GOP groups pumped into ads blasting out Paxton’s numerous and varied scandals—from letting a charged child sex offender off with a sweetheart deal to his alleged self-dealing while in office, to his sordid extramarital affairs and on and on—did nothing but line the pockets of local Texas TV affiliates. 

Cornyn had repeatedly stated that Judgement Day would come for Paxton on runoff night. And the judgement that came was that the base of the party wants: more Ken Paxton. 

So down goes Cornyn, the silver-haired senior senator from Texas who spent nearly 40 years in elected office in the Lone Star State, riding into power as a district court judge, Supreme Court Justice, and state Attorney General—as the GOP built up its majorities and disassembled the Democratic Party—and meticulously built upon that power. 

He got to the U.S. Senate almost 25 years ago, serving through five presidencies and four presidents. He was an emblem for the sort of country club, Chamber of Commerce conservatism that helped Republicans win power in Texas and nationwide, then waned as Trumpism and right-wing hardliners ascended. 

Paxton, meanwhile, has been a key tribune of that hardline ascendancy in Texas. His political career has been prematurely eulogized with some frequency over the course of his 11 years as state AG: when he was first indicted on state securities fraud charges; when his top aides blew the whistle to the FBI accusing him of official corruption; when he was primaried by well-heeled challengers in 2022; when he was impeached by Republicans in the Texas House; when he was put on trial in the Texas Senate; when rumors of coming federal indictments swirled and swirled; when his wife and state Senator Angela Paxton publicly divorced him on “biblical grounds,” citing his repeated infidelity just as he began to launch his Senate bid; when his right-wing big donors in Texas declined to finance his Senate run; when Cornyn performed strongly in the March primary and Trump was rumored to be throwing his endorsement behind the incumbent. And on and on. 

Ken Paxton has repeatedly proven himself to have the politician’s equivalent of nine lives; he’s the Kevlar Ken to Teflon Don. 

Now, he will face off in what will be a very high-profile, very expensive general election contest against Democratic nominee and Austin state Representative James Talarico. National politics observers are already handicapping the race to benefit Democrats because of Paxton’s unique weaknesses as a candidate. And there may be some truth to that. Surely Talarico has a much better chance of pulling off a generational upset in Texas against Paxton rather than the staid Cornyn. 

But those who bet against Paxton do so at their own peril. As he’s proven time and time again, his perceived weaknesses have repeatedly morphed into political strengths. 

His victory Tuesday marks the final, if somewhat superfluous, nail in the coffin of the so-called Bush era of Republican politics in Texas.

Republican state Representative Mitch Little, who ascended to office after serving as one of Paxton’s defense attorneys in the AG’s impeachment trial, tweeted Tuesday evening the poem “Ozymandias”, which muses on the grandiose hubris of rulers and the fleeting nature of their power. 

Paxton’s celebratory watch party up in Plano was attended by troves of enthusiastic supporters. The only ones who showed  up for Cornyn’s impending political funeral were, apparently, members of the media. 

In his somber farewell address in downtown Austin, Cornyn mentioned Paxton not once, saying only that he’d support the Republican ticket writ-large. Bidding adieu, Cornyn went with a quote from Teddy Roosevelt’s “Man in the Arena” speech. 

Prior to that, however, the senator did get in some final ribbing shortly before the polls closed. Asked about his decision not to pull his negative ads against Paxton, he told CNN: “He’s gotten away with so much for so long and not been held accountable for it, but I think he is an embarrassment … and he’s completely unrepentant.” 

The post Judgement Day Comes for John Cornyn appeared first on The Texas Observer.

For as long as his hair has been silver (going back to his 20s), John Cornyn has been winning elections. 

Among those victories seemed, perhaps, to be the 74-year-old U.S. senator’s surprising first-place finish in the March primary—over expected frontrunner Attorney General Ken Paxton—which set up next week’s decisive runoff. On primary night, Cornyn called the scandal-plagued AG “flawed, self-centered and shameless” and boldly called his shot: “Judgment Day is coming for Ken Paxton.”

The next day, The Atlantic published a purported scoop—reported by two prominent ex-Washington Post political correspondents—stating that President Donald Trump would soon throw his endorsement to Cornyn in an attempt to end what would otherwise be a protracted, expensive bloodbath. Trump confirmed he would be endorsing one of the two and calling on the other to bow out.

What a coup this would have been for Cornyn, the consummate Senate hand who had spent his life cultivating influence in the deepest ends of the D.C. swamp—the sort of figure that’s fallen out of fashion in the brash era of unbridled Trumpism. Here was a man who was never a full convert, who had the gall to—in brief spurts in the distant past—not always speak of Trump with pure reverence, now seemingly about to get the nod over Paxton, a favored MAGA son. 

Then came… nothing. Hours passed, then days, weeks, and months as the painfully long period between Texas primary and runoff dragged on without Trump intervening. 

Both camps kept lobbying Trumpworld for his endorsement—each playing to the president’s personal vanity, his guiding principle when it comes to picking sides. 

For Paxton, there was no amount of groveling that would come off as shocking. For Cornyn, though, it was sometimes cringeworthy to see him go through the motions: posing with The Art of the Deal and giving up on his beloved filibuster. 

Meanwhile, each also commenced with campaign bloodsport—spending tens of millions of dollars attacking the other (to be fair, more so the Cornyn side than Paxton). Then, just before noon on May 19, on the second day of early runoff voting in Texas, Trump put his proverbial hand on the shoulder of his chosen one, and lo, it was Warren Kenneth Paxton. 

In a 683-word, typically self-absorbed missive posted on Truth Social, where posts are supposed to be known as “truths,” Trump wrote that Paxton is “an America First Patriot, and someone who has always been extremely loyal to me and our AMAZING MAGA MOVEMENT.” 

Cornyn, on the other hand, was merely “a good man, and I worked well with him, but he was not supportive of me when times were tough.” 

In a tight runoff, the Trump endorsement, though late, almost certainly ensures the scandal-tarnished attorney general the nomination. (As incumbents from Louisiana to Kentucky—who’d risked considerably more independence than Cornyn, to be clear—recently discovered in their own primary contests.)

And, of course, this will almost certainly ensure that Cornyn’s decades-long run as a statewide official in Texas is brought to a likely end with a flippant tapping of a button on Trump’s own social media app. 

As John Cornyn rose, over the course of the 1980s, 90s, and 2000s, from a San Antonio lawyer to district court judge, from Texas Supreme Court justice to state attorney general, and ultimately to the Senate in 2002, he served in many ways as a sort of cipher for the political arc of the traditional Republican Party in Texas—its rise to power, its deepening and maintenance of that power, and, ultimately, the fading of that power in the face of insurgent forces. Cornyn pioneered the Republicanization of the Texas Attorney’s General Office that paved the way for his successors: Greg Abbott and Paxton. And, in the Senate, Cornyn helped usher in the 21st century brand of conservatism that fused the religious and social right with the power of Corporate America (while, in his own way,never really managing to become a consistent favorite of the hardcore base). 

All along the way, Cornyn was the most loyal of servants for the GOP cause—and he steadfastly rose through the ranks of power in Washington as his tenure advanced. 

Ken Paxton, meanwhile, has been a cipher for the Trumpification of the Republican Party in Texas and nationwide—the beneficiary of an era wherein one can enjoy the trappings of a Christian conservatism brand while possessing the personal ethics and morality of an unrepentant hustler. He is of the tendency that cast aside some traditional pro-business principles (including the tort reform revolution that Cornyn rode to power) in favor of a wildly vindictive, heat-seeking agenda to take out the scourge of “Woke,” “DEI”, etc. Despite his generally dull personal affect, Paxton has used each ounce of his official and political power to fan the flames of conspiracy theory and neo-McCarthyism. 

The day before Trump’s (likely) fateful endorsement, Cornyn was hitting the campaign trail across Texas. The list of guests who were at his side was instructive. Up in North Texas, there were the Republican state Representatives Jeff Leach and Matt Shaheen, both once faithful Collin County conservative allies with Paxton who have since become outspoken adversaries—and public enemies among the pro-Paxton grassroots. In Austin, Cornyn rallied a small crowd with Michael McCaul, a longtime congressman and Cornyn mentee who was once seen as his potential successor in the U.S. Senate, who’s now had his fill of Congress in the age of Trump. 

Then, down in San Antonio, the senator was flanked by former Governor Rick Perry who has now been out of political office for nearly 12 years, plus Cornyn’s own predecessor, Phil Gramm. (Both men, it should be noted, made the transition from conservative Dem to Republican during the Texas political realignment of the 1980s.) 

In short, this was not really a crowd that met the current moment, even as Cornyn has sought to pucker up and display his Trump fealty. (One of his most recent official acts was a proposal to name a Texas highway after the president.) 

The undignified way in which Cornyn’s political career appears to be meeting its maker now begs a bigger question.

In many ways, his Senate career was already over—becoming so when he narrowly lost his long-coveted shot at becoming majority leader of the U.S. Senate last year. His path to power in that case was blocked, in part, by a pressure campaign led by Paxton and his allies. Trump ultimately chose not to endorse in that contest. 

So why exactly did he, well into his 70s, even want to spend another six years in the U.S. Senate, a political body that has lost its august sheen and become yet another venue for unvarnished politicking, a body that couldn’t even feign to pass a non-budgetary, non-defense piece of legislation. A body whose core tradition, the filibuster, he felt forced to abandon in a desperate campaign tactic? Why not retire and ride off into the sunset? 

Cornyn has explained repeatedly that this was mostly, perhaps entirely, about preventing a man of Paxton’s immoral character from ever stepping foot in the Senate—not about passing some long-denied piece of legislation, or solving the immigration policy dilemma that he helped blow up over a decade ago, or anything else beyond the symbolic. Congress, after all, is no longer a place where things get done. 

But now, it appears that even his seemingly straightforward goal of stopping Paxton’s ascent is on the verge of failure. 

In the end, Cornyn always had a rather unnatural, if not unpleasant, relationship with Trump and the Trump era—and those points where he chose to speak out against the GOP uberleader probably led to his (also probable) demise. Even still, his resistance ultimately amounted to little more than stray comments. 

So, if he loses his runoff, will Cornyn become another in the line of Jeff Flake, Mitt Romney, Ben Sasse, or, most recently, Bill Cassidy, who at least managed to exit the stage with what seemed a genuine flourish of principle over position?

Don’t count on it.

The post Not with a Bang but with a ‘Truth’ appeared first on The Texas Observer.

A close and contentious Democratic runoff is coming to a head this week in South Texas, pitting  young progressive Julio Salinas, a former legislative staffer who hails from Mission, against moderate Victor “Seby” Haddad, a local banker and McAllen city commissioner.

The MAGA wave that washed through the Rio Grande Valley in 2024 has both candidates vying to recapture public trust, fight President Donald Trump’s agenda, and maintain the historically blue seat in Texas House District 41. The 13-year incumbent state Representative Bobby Guerra—a prototypical moderate Valley Democrat—is stepping down, and has given his endorsement to Haddad. In the March primary, progressive voters split between Salinas and Eric Holguín, the Texas director of the Latino civil rights group UnidosUS. Salinas not only ousted Holguín from the race but earned the most votes overall, jolting the political system and putting him just above Haddad.

“The fact that he sort of emerged as the front runner was genuinely surprising, given the sort of disparity in funding and disparity in endorsements,” said Álvaro Corral, a political science professor at the University of Texas Rio Grande Valley.

Texas House District 41 sits in the heart of Hidalgo County and encompasses parts of McAllen, Mission, Edinburg, and Pharr; Trump won the border district, which is predominantly Hispanic, by 1.6 percent in 2024. Though conservative prosecutor Sergio Sanchez and MAGA candidate Gary Groves are also battling for the Republican nomination in a runoff, GOP voter turnout in this historically blue stronghold was notably half that of Democrats in the primary.

Given Trump’s aggressive immigration crackdowns and failure to address inflation, Corral believes it’s a good year to run as a progressive Democrat.

Salinas’ colorful campaign and strong social media presence are reminiscent of Zohran Mamdani’s insurgent mayoral run—or more close to home, Michelle Vallejo’s prior congressional runs. His platform focuses on improving public transportation, expanding Medicaid, and establishing paid family leave. His plan to strengthen public schools includes rolling back the state’s newly enacted private school vouchers and raising teacher salaries by $15,000.

Salinas, who is 26 years old, has embraced the identity of a young anti-establishment candidate going up against corruption and the “political machine,” vowing to fight against the oligarchs on the behalf of working families. His largest campaign contribution, totaling $50,000, comes from the Leaders We Deserve PAC. Founded by gun control activist David Hogg, the PAC supports young progressives and seeks to primary Democrats who are “unwilling or unable to meet the moment.” In past elections, the PAC has spent big in Texas boosting other progressive candidates, including now-Houston state Senator Molly Cook.

On May 15, Salinas even received the endorsement of Senator Bernie Sanders, one of his biggest political inspirations. Sanders won Hidalgo County and much of South Texas in the 2020 Democratic presidential primary. “I’ve been knocking on doors since I was 15 years old for Bernie Sanders’ campaign,” Salinas said. “I’m proud to say we’ve gone full circle.” Other prominent endorsements include Austin Congressman Greg Casar, the Texas House Democratic Caucus Vice-Chair Mihaela Plesa, and a handful of other Democratic state representatives around the state.

Haddad, on the other hand, is Vice President and Chief Lending Officer at Lone Star National Bank, the largest bank based in the region. He has the backing of most of the Rio Grande Valley’s Democratic contingent in the Texas House, including state Representatives Terry Canales, Sergio Muñoz, Oscar Longoria, and Armando Martinez.

Haddad’s platform focuses on property tax relief, strengthening small businesses, and protecting public schools. In 2019, Haddad was elected to the McAllen City Commission, where he enacted term limits, lowered the property tax rate, and worked on initiatives to develop the community.

On Saturday morning, families and older folks packed every table within the colorful walls of the 107 Cafe in Edinburg. More people crowded around the door for free breakfast and coffee at the campaign event with prominent local leaders, including the current and former Edinburg mayors and Hidalgo County district attorneys. 

Still, Haddad’s background has become fodder for his opponent. Throughout the race, Salinas has characterized Haddad as a wealthy banker corrupted by corporate influence and detached from the issues of the working class.

Several directors of the Lone Star National Bank have contributed to Haddad’s campaign. The bank’s founder Alonzo Cantu is considered to be the most powerful man in South Texas. Cantu is a founding board member of DHR Health, a large hospital system that operates in the Valley. Haddad’s father is a surgeon who also sits on the DHR Health management board.

The hospital’s political arm Border Health PAC has contributed $15,000 to Haddad’s campaign. The PAC’s contributors include directors of the Lone Star National Bank and Haddad’s father.

Haddad dismisses the suggestion that he is bought off or out of touch. Sitting in a McAllen coffee shop on Main Street, Haddad told the Observer that he’s not a millionaire and has never been influenced by power and money. He argued that the bank was an emblem of achievement for the Latino community, founded by the son of immigrants to offer services to disenfranchised people.  “Local groups supported me because they want what’s best for the region,” Haddad said plainly.

Yet at the same time, he said it’s critical for business professionals like himself to have sway in the local community. “The bank would always say ‘Get involved in the community, get on boards, try to get into a decision-making capacity,’” Haddad said. “It’s part of growing professionally.”

Haddad’s voting history has been another source of scrutiny. He voted in Republican primaries for a decade, until flipping to vote in the Democratic primary for the first time in 2024. Haddad said that he’s always considered himself a moderate and has always been anti-Trump. He claims he supported both Barack Obama and Joe Biden for president, despite voting for Republicans farther down the ballot.

“As we saw any semblance of decency from the Republican Party sort of fade away… I can no longer even vote on that side whatsoever,” Haddad said.

During debates and forums, Salinas and Holguín questioned Haddad’s loyalty and values, accusing him of using the Democratic Party as a ploy for power. Holguín even suggested that Haddad received local endorsements through backdoor agreements.

“I’m here to represent you,” Holguín told voters in a forum hosted by Raise Your Hand Texas, “Not the powerful interests, or the corporations, or the banks.”

After coming third in the March primary, Holguín shocked many of his supporters by turning around and endorsing Haddad. He argued that House District 41 needs a candidate who can build a coalition of Republicans, Democrats and independents to truly combat Trump’s agenda. His endorsement has shaken up people’s expectations for the runoff, making it unclear whether Holguín’s former supporters will give a competitive edge to Haddad or Salinas.

“Seby is genuinely decent, open to hard conversations, and doesn’t run from criticism,” Holguín wrote in the Rio Grande Guardian. “Seby isn’t just running to win a Primary. He’s making the case for November.”

The most concrete benefit for Haddad could be his access to campaign funding and local support from the political establishment, said Corral, especially in a race that Texas Republicans may target to flip in the general election. 

Driving up 10th Street, which bisects the district, large signs greet you with Haddad’s smile on nearly every block.

“It’s undeniable that he would by far be the better situated candidate financially to withstand the potential amount of money that would be spent on the Republican side to flip this seat,” Corral said.

As of the most recent reports through May 18, Haddad has raised about $285,000 and has $73,000 cash on hand remaining compared with Salinas at around $210,000 raised and $20,000 cash on hand.

In Holguín’s endorsement, he also mentioned that “ideology without strategy doesn’t move the needle for real people,” a subtle dig at Salinas’ unabashedly progressive campaign. Throughout the race, Holguín and Haddad have argued that Salinas lacks work experience or overexaggerates his prior experience in the state Legislature, where he touts his position as an aide for  state Representatives Lulu Flores and Christina Morales. One of Haddad’s mailers describes Salinas as “currently unemployed,” and claims he used his parents’ address to run for office.

Salinas said that was deliberately misleading. “I live with my parents, and I’m proud to live with my parents,” Salinas told the Observer. “The economy of today is not allowing people like me to buy homes.”

After graduating from the University of Texas at Austin in winter 2022, he became a legislative aide and communications director for Flores, an Austin Democrat. He also worked at the Ponce Law Firm in Austin, which he says has helped get immigrants released from inhumane Immigration and Customs Enforcement detention facilities.

He went on to become the legislative director for Houston state Representative Christina Morales, where he says he handled a portfolio of bills related to raising the minimum wage, addressing food deserts, adding ethnic studies to school curriculum, and increasing the homestead tax exemption. His tenure with Morales ended in January, when he began full-time campaigning for the 41st. 

At a blockwalking event in Archer Park, a small square in the heart of old McAllen, Salinas greeted volunteers with his whole family in tow. Locals and members of the Texas State Employees Union gathered to talk about the race and get out the vote for Salinas. Born and raised in the area, Salinas seemed to already know many young voters we encountered.

A fresh high school graduate in light blue regalia excitedly posed for grad photos in the park with Salinas. She was eager to cast her first ever vote for him and took home a campaign sign. It’s those young voters, he says, who are eager for the sort of progressive fighter like him—not the traditional sort of business-friendly moderate who’s long dominated the Democratic politics scene in this region. 

“I reject the idea that you need to compromise your values, and you need to elect a DINO in order to win a competitive district,” said Salinas. “Especially in a time and a place where our organizational efforts have been one of the best in the entire battle.”

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