THE NEW APPRENTICE

J.D. Vance's juggling act

- ERIC CORTELLESSA

J.D. VANCE LOOKS ANNOYED. IT'S A TUESDAY AFTERnoon in August, and we're sitting near the front of his campaign plane, flying from a rally in Michigan to a fundraiser in Tennessee. Across the aisle is his mother Bev, whose role in Vance's traumatic and disruptive childhood he chronicled in his best-selling memoir, Hillbilly Elegy. As flight attendants serve Chick-fil-A, Vance gripes about the ongoing controversy over his three-year-old comments complaining that the U.S.is being run by Democrats, corporate oligarchs, and "childless cat ladies" who "don't really have a direct stake" in the country's future. As with his boss, Vance's instincts are to punch back. "I think it's a ridiculous thing to focus on," he says, "instead of the underlying argument I was trying to make."

Since being tapped by Donald Trump, Vance has been mired in a series of controversies like this. Some have been silly political attacks, like the baseless fabrication, spread widely on social media, that he committed a sexual act with a piece of furniture. Some have been cringey, like his response to white supremacists' attacking his wife, the daughter of Indian immigrants. ("Obviously, she's not a white person," he replied, "but I just, I love Usha.") Some have been substantive; he's disparaged the millions of Americans who don't have children. And some have had consequences: Vance's willingness to spread the debunked claim-shot down by both local officials and the state's Republican governor-that Haitian migrants in an Ohio city are eating people's pets resulted in bomb threats and the harassment of legal immigrants by right-wing extremists. Surveys show public opinion of Vance has fallen since his debut as Trump's VP.