When Ramaswamy arrived, Inwood climbed atop a trailer to introduce him, calling him a “fantastic young man” and assuring voters that if Ramaswamy was elected, he — like just about every moderately well-sourced reporter in Washington, I mentally added — had Trump’s cellphone number. If Ohio needed anything, he would have a direct line to the White House.
Ramaswamy bounded onstage, remarkably dry on such a sweaty afternoon. “The reason I’m doing this is I want every kid in this state, not just my kid, every kid in the state, to have the same opportunities to achieve great things that I had,” he said. “This state gave me the opportunity to achieve.”
Almost immediately, he was interrupted by a young man who shouted angry questions about a data center set to be built in this rural community. Ramaswamy was unruffled, asking the young man his name and promising to answer any questions after he was done with his remarks. “Thanks for coming here, buddy,” Ramaswamy said, gamely. “If you want to have a chance to ask a question, you’re going to do it respectfully, just like everybody else.”
Smoothly, he continued with his stump speech. He pledged to bring high-paying jobs and economic growth to Ohio, to make its schools excel, to eliminate the state income tax, lower property taxes and cut electricity bills. “We will do our part to make sure that Ohio’s best days, and honest to God, through Ohio, America’s best days, are actually still ahead of us,” he declared, before opening up the floor to questions.
It was an assured performance, well received by the audience. Yet for all of Ramaswamy’s invocation of the future, most people I talked to were very much focused on the problems of the present — a cruel crackdown on supposed Medicaid fraud, for example, and rising prices for fuel, fertilizer and health care — many of which were caused or exacerbated by Trump. Surrounded by MAGA supporters and Charlie Kirk admirers, Ramaswamy could not possibly repudiate the president.
