By noon on Election Day, even before votes were counted, lieutenant governor Mark Robinson seemed to be already slouching towards his own second coming.
“[The campaign] has been a long, tough process, but I’m probably going to look back when it’s over and go ‘gosh, I miss that, I want to do it again,” he told reporters outside the Caldwell Community Building, a polling site in rural Orange County.
Everyone chuckled.
The often-combative candidate with a history of violent, religious rhetoric sounded blissfully at ease during one of his last campaign stops. He slowly made his way through the small gathering of Republican volunteers, shaking hands and thanking them for their work.
“Mark, you look tired,” one of the Republican volunteers said. “You doing ok?”
Robinson, hoarseness evident in his voice, laughed and said he’s “tired but good.”
After he finished greeting the Republican volunteers, he reached across the aisle—a small strip of concrete that separated the Republican and Democratic tents—and offered his hand to the Democratic workers.
“I’m not voting for you,” said one of the Democrats while shaking his hand.
“Hey, that’s how it works,” said Robinson with a small smile.
On Robinson’s way out, a supporter thanked him for running. “We know the forces of hell that are coming against you,” the supporter said.
“That’s right, that’s exactly right,” said Robinson.
Robinson, of course, lost the election by 15 points statewide.
And while he did win a majority of votes in the Caldwell precinct he visited on Election Day, he certainly lost the Orange County vote as most moderate-to-conservative precincts joined the progressive anchors of Chapel Hill and Hillsborough to reject him by more than 60 points.
Still, on election night, the roughly 70 core supporters at Robinson’s watch party at Raleigh’s swanky City Club—overlooking the State Capitol building from 29 stories above—did not seem daunted by the impending landslide.
There was no vibe shift or loss in confidence among the true believers even when Fox News called the race against Robinson only six minutes after polls closed. Supporters calmly sipped wine and ate appetizers, watching national results roll in on Spectrum News.
“I haven’t seen Mark yet,” said one elegantly dressed woman who declined to be interviewed.
About an hour later, campaign staff started steering party-goers towards a room with a podium while an aide passed out pink “Women for Robinson” signs and red “Robinson for governor” hats.
When Robinson took the stage, he delivered a defiant concession, tying his political crusade to his faith and assuring supporters that the future was still bright.
“As always, very first thing we’re going to do is what?” he asked the audience, a crowd diverse in race, though certainly skewing older in age.
“Thank God!” they shouted back.
“It doesn’t seem like it’s going our way tonight,” he said, acknowledging the loss of a political battle. But when audience members cried out in disbelief, he held up a finger for silence and reminded them of the larger, biblical movement.
“But it’s always going our way, because it’s going the right way, whether people want it to or not. People of faith know it’s going the right way because we read the back of the book and we know how this all comes to an end. Those who would promote evil and promote wrong and call it right—they do not win. They may prosper for a season but in the end, we win.”
And, while he said he was looking forward to spending time with his grandchildren, he also hinted at a future run.
“It is about the state that you love, the state that I fully intend to continue to serve for the next two months, and who knows, maybe in the future once again, somewhere in office, who knows, I don’t know.”
(The Assembly reported that North Carolina politicos are already imagining a 2026 senate primary between Robinson and two-term incumbent Thom Tillis.)
Durham resident Joetta MacMiller told INDY that she would certainly support another Robinson run. MacMiller has been a fan since the 2018 Greensboro City Council speech that put Robinson on the political map.
“He came out and he was saying a lot of the same things that we all were thinking, but he voiced it. And he was firm, and he was standing up for every one of us,” MacMiller said.
After his speech, Robinson and his wife, Yolanda, made a round of the room to embrace their faithful few. And in the corner, five supporters clasped hands in prayer.
“This isn’t the end,” intoned one. “It truly is a beginning.”
Reach Reporter Chase Pellegrini de Paur at [email protected]. Comment on this story at [email protected].
You must be logged in to post a comment.