In 2017, the Republican candidate for Senate started a nonprofit group to tackle the social ills he had written about in his “Hillbilly Elegy” memoir. It fell apart within two years.
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J.D. Vance at a campaign event in Columbus, Ohio, on Wednesday.
J.D. Vance was not running for office. He said it irked him when people assumed that. Instead, in 2017, he said he had come back to Ohio to start a nonprofit organization.
Mr. Vance gave that organization a lofty name — Our Ohio Renewal — and an even loftier mission: to “make it easier for disadvantaged children to achieve their dreams.” He said it would dispense with empty talk and get to work fighting Ohio’s toughest problems: opioids, joblessness and broken families.
“I actually care about solving some of these things,” Mr. Vance said.
Within two years, it had fizzled.
Mr. Vance’s nonprofit group raised only about $220,000, hired only a handful of staff members, shrank drastically in 2018 and died for good in 2021. It left only the faintest mark on the state it had been meant to change, leaving behind a pair of op-eds and two tweets. (Mr. Vance also started a sister charity, which paid for a psychiatrist to spend a year in a small-town Ohio clinic. Then it shuttered, too.)
Mr. Vance is now the Republican nominee for Senate in Ohio, running on a promise to tackle some of the same issues his defunct organization was supposed to have. On the campaign trail, he has said his group stalled because a key staff member was diagnosed with cancer.
“I saw that Ohio lacked a focused effort on solving the opioid crisis, even while so many Ohioans’ lives were devastated by addiction, my own family and mother included,” Mr. Vance said in a written statement. “While the group only ended up lasting for a short period of time, I’m proud of the work we did.”
But some of the nonprofit group’s own workers said they had drawn a different conclusion: They had been lured by the promise of helping Ohio, but instead had been used to help Mr. Vance start his career in politics.
During its brief life, Mr. Vance’s organization paid a political consultant who also advised Mr. Vance about entering the 2018 Senate race. It paid an assistant who helped schedule Mr. Vance’s political speeches. And it paid for a survey of “Ohio citizens” that several of the staff members said they had never seen.
The collapse of Mr. Vance’s nonprofit group was first reported last year in Insider. Now, Ohio Democrats use the group as an attack line. “J.D. Vance was in a position to really help people, but he only helped himself,” says an ad created by Mr. Vance’s opponent, Rep. Tim Ryan.
The New York Times examined federal and state records and talked to most of the people connected to the tiny nonprofit organization. That included 10 people who served as employees, board members or outside advisers for Our Ohio Renewal.
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Mr. Vance started his group in November 2016, on the day after Donald J. Trump had won the presidency. At the time, Mr. Vance’s “Hillbilly Elegy,” about his troubled childhood in Ohio, was a surprise best seller. After Yale Law School and two years in Silicon Valley, Mr. Vance was returning to Ohio.
ImageA prayer in Norwalk, Ohio, in 2017 honoring those lost to opioid overdoses. Credit…Spencer Platt/Getty Images
He said his nonprofit group would seek to fix some of the social problems that he had described in his book.
“I felt, you know, frankly a little bit of responsibility — now that I’ve been given this platform by the success of the book — to go and try to do at least a little something to help out,” Mr. Vance said in late 2016.
His group was set up as a “social welfare organization” — called a 501(c)(4), after the relevant section of the federal tax code — that is allowed to do more political advocacy than a traditional charity. Politicians often treat these groups as a kind of incubator for their next campaigns, using them to attract donors, pay staff members and test out messages in between elections.
Mr. Vance said his organization was not that. It was focused on something bigger. In its application for tax-exempt status, his group told the Internal Revenue Service it planned to increase its fund-raising to $500,000 a year by 2018 and to more than double its spending on personnel.
In his statement to The Times, Mr. Vance said he had donated $80,000 of his own money to the nonprofit group, which was about a third of the $221,000 that it reported having raised over its lifetime. He declined to identify the group’s other donors.
Mr. Vance said he did not take a salary. He did not have a formal leadership role but called himself “honorary chairman.”
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“I won’t promise anything for now, besides this: I will work hard to find solutions to the opioid and joblessness problems, and when we identify workable solutions, we’ll do something about them,” he wrote to members of his advisory board in 2017. He signed off, “Looking forward to doing some good, JD.”
Mr. Vance wanted to help grandparents, like his, who stepped in to raise children when parents were absent or unable. The task of figuring out how to do so fell to Jamil Jivani, a friend of Vance’s from Yale Law School who had been hired as the group’s director of law and policy. Mr. Jivani and two researchers paid by Ohio State University — where Mr. Vance was a “scholar in residence” in the political science department — spent months researching family law, looking for policies that could be changed.
At the time, Mr. Vance was traveling for speeches, working for an investment firm and splitting his time between Ohio and Washington, where his wife and young son lived. Mr. Vance was largely absent from the nonprofit group’s offices, according to an employee at the organization, who asked not to be identified while describing the group’s inner workings. The person often studied in Mr. Vance’s spacious and frequently empty office on campus. “It was very quiet,” the person said.
Another person who worked for the nonprofit group said that, in hindsight, it had seemed aimed at serving Mr. Vance’s ambition by giving him a presence in a state where he had not lived full-time for several years. The person said it had felt as if much of the job involved giving outsiders the impression that Mr. Vance was in the state, said the person, who asked not to be identified for fear of antagonizing Mr. Vance and his supporters.
In November 2017, the group’s research produced a result: an op-ed in The Cleveland Plain Dealer. In that piece, Mr. Vance urged the Ohio Legislature to adopt a bill that would help “kinship caregivers” like his grandparents.
Mr. Vance’s group did not make much of an impact in the effort to pass the bill, said former State Representative Jeff Rezabek, a Republican who sponsored it. The legislation stalled that year, although similar legislation eventually passed later, after Mr. Vance’s group had become largely inactive.
At the same time, in 2017 and early 2018, Mr. Vance was gradually starting to do the thing that he had said he wouldn’t: politics. He spoke at G.O.P. Lincoln Day dinners around Ohio. He publicly flirted with running for the Senate as a Republican in 2018 — even, reportedly, commissioning a poll to see if his attacks on Trump would hold him back.
“J.D. is giving serious consideration toward this, because there are very serious people asking him to run,” Mr. Vance’s political adviser, Jai Chabria, told CNN in early 2018.
Mr. Chabria’s firm Mercury L.L.C. was paid $63,425 by Our Ohio Renewal for “management services” in 2017. Although the group listed him in official documents as its executive director, Mr. Chabria says, he was only a consultant for the nonprofit. Mr. Jivani, the director of law and policy, actually ran the group.
“Someone needed to get the paperwork started to launch it, but I was never tasked with running the day-to-day operations of the organization,” Mr. Chabria wrote in an email to The Times.
He said the nonprofit group had never paid him to advise Mr. Vance personally during that time. He did that for free.
Our Ohio Renewal also paid a salary to Mr. Vance’s personal assistant, who scheduled Mr. Vance’s appearances at events including Republican gatherings. Mr. Chabria defended that practice, saying that Mr. Vance had often mentioned Our Ohio Renewal at those talks.
The assistant managed Mr. Vance’s calendar because he was a “central part” of the organization, Mr. Chabria wrote in an email, adding that Mr. Vance “was making regular public appearances in the media and at events to promote the activities of the group.”
Tax-law experts said that was most likely permissible, given the looser rules around this type of nonprofit group.
Also in 2017, Our Ohio Renewal said in annual filings that it had paid an unnamed pollster $45,000 for a survey “on social, cultural and general welfare needs of Ohio citizens.”
That survey was one of the most expensive things Our Ohio Renewal ever paid for. But several employees said they had never seen it. “I don’t have any recollection of a survey and don’t have a copy of one,” Jennifer Best, who was both the group’s accountant and the treasurer of its board, said in an email message.
Mr. Chabria saw the survey, but he said he no longer had a copy to share. He said it had tested messages about Our Ohio Renewal’s work and “did not ask questions on any potential candidacy” by Mr. Vance himself.
In February 2018, Mr. Jivani — the director of law and policy who ran Our Ohio Renewal day to day — was diagnosed with cancer.
ImageJamil Jivani at his family’s home in Toronto in 2018 after his cancer diagnosis.Credit…Andrew Francis Wallace/Toronto Star via Getty Images
After that, Our Ohio Renewal seemed to freeze.
It stopped tweeting. Its website trumpeted the same “Latest News” — a story from January 2018 — for nearly two years and then shut off, according to archived versions of the page (Ohio Democrats have taken over the group’s old domain and are using it to mock Mr. Vance). The group’s financial activity slowed sharply, and its bank account ran down to zero, according to Ms. Best, the treasurer.
Finally, she told the Internal Revenue Service that the group was finished at the end of 2020.
Mr. Jivani, whose cancer is now in remission, blames the group’s demise on his own bad luck.
“As much as I wanted to, I could not take care of the day-to-day needs of this organization to help it scale,” he said.
Mr. Vance did not respond to questions about why he had let the organization collapse after Mr. Jivani’s diagnosis.
Now, Mr. Vance is in a tight Senate race, with Mr. Chabria as his chief strategist. In his most recent financial disclosures, Mr. Vance listed himself as “honorary chairman” of Our Ohio Renewal, even though it no longer existed. Under the time frame, he wrote, “Jan 2017 to present.”
Source: nytimes.com
