‘The Apprentice on steroids’: Vance, Burgum, Rubio rise to the top of Trump’s VP shortlist
Plus: The case for and against each, from Trump’s point of view.
DONALD TRUMP HAS AN UNOFFICIAL CHECKLIST of qualities he wants in a running mate: loyalty, political acumen, debate skills, fundraising ability, and personal chemistry. But in conversations with others about his possible picks, one factor stands out among all others.
“Does he look good on television?” Trump frequently asks. “Who’s the best on TV?”
Trump isn’t saying. But of the eleven Republicans under serious consideration by the campaign, only three are acing the tube test of the TV-obsessed Trump: North Dakota Gov. Doug Burgum, Ohio Sen. J.D. Vance, and Florida Sen. Marco Rubio.
Since May 1, Burgum has participated in at least 33 televised or webcast shows as a Trump surrogate; Vance is in second place with 20 appearances; and Rubio’s in third with 13, according to a Bulwark review of their media hits, a majority of which were on Fox. The appearances by the three aren’t the only strong indicator they’re at the top of the shortlist: Trump mentions them most frequently in private discussions, according to those who have spoken to him or have discussed the matter with knowledgeable insiders who relayed the conversations to The Bulwark on condition of anonymity.
Burgum’s outsized media footprint comes with an extra Foxy perk: He’s favored by Rupert Murdoch, sources say. Given Trump’s on-again/off-again relationship with the media mogul, Murdoch’s preferences are no guarantee of success, and insiders still seem to think Vance is the favorite.
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RUBIO IS THE ONLY OF THE THREE playing hard to get. He’s not just a less-frequent guest on TV; Rubio is the only one of the top surrogates who didn’t travel to Manhattan to stand with Trump during his recent trial.
“Does Marco want this?” Trump asked a few people at one point after the New York Times wrote about the senator’s standoffish approach. “I can’t tell if he’s interested.”
Word got back to Rubio and his answer quickly got back to Trump: Yes.
Trump is nowhere near finalizing a decision. No one knows whom he’ll pick. (It could be one of these three. Or one of the other eight. Or a wild card.) Nor is Trump’s timeline clear.
He could name his running mate before his July 11 sentencing. This is the preference of those who want a plan for if Trump gets incarcerated or put on house arrest. Alternately, he could announce his running mate immediately after he’s sentenced, which would counterprogram and take control of the news cycle. Or he could wait until just before the July 15 start of the Republican National Convention, which is the traditional approach. Or he could even wait to make his announcement during the RNC to create a spectacle and maximize viewership.
“This could be The Apprentice on steroids,” said one ally familiar with his thinking.
Said another who has discussed the matter with Trump: “He’s going to make the decision three times and change his decision three times, and do it whenever he wants. And we won’t know until he makes the announcement himself.”
FOR A MAN WHO LIKES TO PRESENT HIMSELF as a decisive alpha type, Trump seems deeply invested in surveying the opinions of others for the pick. He asks everyone—donors, aides, allies, even the possible picks themselves—whom he should pick, or why he should pick them, or what people are saying. Those who resist giving an answer are badgered into naming their favorite. While Trump has good relations with all the potential picks, he isn’t in love with any of them because he wants someone more telegenic.
“Where’s my Cary Grant?” he’s moaned to a few people.
So minding all those to-be-sure qualifiers and caveats, here’s what the insiders say about the pros and cons of each pick.
The case for J.D. Vance:
Unlike the others, Vance earned two back-to-back mentions on Trump’s Truth Social feed after the former president’s May 30 conviction, once each for appearances on Fox and CNN. MAGAville took note.
“Truth Social is a window into Trump’s mind,” said a confidant. “If J.D. is on there, it means he matters. And J.D. has the look Trump likes. He can be central casting.”
Trump likes the way Vance and Rubio defend him, but he took special note last year when the Ohio senator was the first to push back against criticisms of Trump for saying some illegal immigrants were “poisoning the blood of our country.” Vance said Trump was talking about fentanyl (though Trump didn’t mention drugs at all in the speech).
Vance is the only of the three who hails from a Rust Belt state and the Trump campaign believes that they need to win one of Michigan, Wisconsin, or Pennsylvania. Trump, who values credentials and proudly espouses the “racehorse theory,” likes Vance’s Yale Law School degree as well, and his connection to venture capitalists from whom Trump is raising money. Vance also served a stint in the Marine Corps and hit it off with Trump campaign co-manager Chris LaCivita, a fellow jarhead, when the senator traveled to Phoenix last week with the campaign.
The case against Vance:
Vance’s major weakness is his age (39) and his political inexperience, with just two years in the Senate. He’s too young and green for some in Trump’s orbit, an issue Rudy Giuliani raised on War Room (though Laura Loomer is promoting Vance).
“If you shave off his beard, he looks like a kid,” said one insider. “Vance is lucky he has some gray in there.”
And while Vance’s youth could be seen as an asset for a running mate who turns 78 on Friday, Trump is not Joe Biden and would bristle at the notion of running as a “bridge to the future” with an “heir apparent.” Trump surrogates have even been told by insiders to never describe themselves that way so they don’t cross “the boss.”
Also, in 2016 Vance trashed Trump as an “idiot,” “noxious,” “reprehensible,” and questioned if he could be “America’s Hitler.” He apologized and, in 2022, won Trump’s endorsement in his Ohio Senate primary.
“Trump still talks about it,” one Trump confidant said. “Trump doesn’t forget. He forgives. Sort of. But he doesn’t forget.”
In the back of Trump’s mind, as David Frum put it, he “will intuit: Vance may be at his feet today, but will be at his throat tomorrow.” Albeit, the same concern could apply to Rubio or Burgum.
The case for Doug Burgum:
Of all the Republicans who ran against Trump in this year’s primary, Burgum developed the closest relationship with the former president. Trump liked Burgum’s wonky and unapologetic advocacy for fossil fuel extraction. That, along with Burgum’s studious refusal to criticize Trump, earned the two-term governor an advisory role on the campaign as soon as he dropped out of the race in December and endorsed Trump.
Soon, Burgum was introducing Trump at his rallies, and the governor and his wife were flying on Trump Force One and dining at Mar-a-Lago.
“The best way to describe them is that they’re buddies,” an adviser said of witnessing Trump and Burgum.
Trump has mused about having a governing partner who has actually served as a governor—and the 67-year-old Burgum, now finishing his second term, is among the most experienced sitting governors in the country.
With an estimated net worth of $100 million, Burgum’s wealth is almost as attractive to Trump’s fundraising team as his contacts with oil industry executives and billionaires. If Trump chooses someone else to share the ticket, Burgum is likely to end up as secretary of energy.
The case against Burgum:
As the least-known shortlister from one of the least-populated states, Burgum has relatively few strikes against him. He’s had scant exposure in the national media and North Dakota isn’t known for competitive races that generate national attention or the vetting that comes with a big race.
“Burgum, compared to everyone else, is just sort of a black box,” said one insider.
The case for Marco Rubio:
When it comes to vetting, Rubio’s the anti-Burgum, an off-the-shelf pick. Trump has no doubts about what he’d get. The two ran against each other in a brutal 2016 primary and Rubio earned a measure of grudging respect from Trump, who appreciated Rubio’s disciplined style on stage. He has told others Rubio would do well in the sole vice presidential debate against Kamala Harris, especially if he corners her over immigration.
“Rubio knows his stuff. He’s had the trial by fire. He stood on the big stage. He’s been vetted so there’s no surprises,” one adviser said, adding that the Florida-based operatives on Trump’s Florida-based campaign, from pollster Tony Fabrizio to campaign co-manager Susie Wiles, know Rubio well.
Florida is no longer a swing state, so Rubio’s geographic appeal is limited. But he’s the only bilingual shortlister, a strength in reaching the sliver of Spanish-dominant voters in Arizona and Nevada. (On Wednesday, Rubio sat down for an all-Spanish interview with Telemundo.)
Over the weekend in Nevada, Trump proposed exempting workers from paying income taxes on tips—an idea that Rubio has floated.
“Marco’s the son of a bartender who once lived in Vegas, he had some fingerprints there,” a knowledgeable source said.
The case against Rubio:
It’s hard to see Trump actually picking Rubio. And that’s not because Rubio insulted the size of Trump’s genitalia eight years ago.
The Twelfth Amendment limits a presidential and vice presidential candidate from living in the same state. Yes, there are workarounds and Rubio’s ready to change residency, but it could get complicated and messy. Presidential candidates want running mates who don’t cause drama. Not that the Trump campaign is against drama, it’s just that chaos is the principal’s portfolio, not the running mate’s.
If that weren’t enough, many in MAGAville can’t forgive Rubio for trying to hammer out a bipartisan immigration deal in 2013. Rubio has become increasingly restrictionist since then, but the distrust lingers on the far right, which also sees Rubio as too establishment and too hawkish.
“Rubio’s a neocon,” said one of Trump’s advisers. “This isn’t what the base wants. I’m not sure how much Trump appreciates that.”
Not sure a fat man who paints himself orange with a bad combover that looks like a squirrel died on top of his head should want a "Cary Grant" standing next to him.
My money’s still on Burgum. A governor from one of the country’s smallest states who 95% of voters don’t know about isn’t a threat to Trump, and that’s what Trump wants - a lackey with no real chance of succeeding him.