I have been watching a fascinating new series on Paramount, Landman, and I learned of a new term that I think applies to many in the arena of New Jersey politics. In the oil drilling world, a “wildcatter” is an oil investor who, on a hunch, begins drilling for oil in the middle of nowhere. Known for being big gamblers and risk-takers, they sometimes strike black gold and sometimes they come up empty. Either way, they hit paydirt or debt and move on.
New Jersey politics has several types of wildcatters, but for the purposes of this column, I will focus on one. I will refrain from discussing the wildcatter lobbyists and money folks who pick a candidate, like bettors pick racehorses or greyhounds, and groom them for the day they hit the big-time office and the pay dirt that follows. The type of Jersey wildcatters that I will focus on are ambitious candidates.
In the oil fields, wildcatters drill where others have overlooked. In Jersey, wildcatters don’t dig wells in the hard soils of Texas, but they hunt in the diners, county committee meetings, and VFW halls that are secretly rich with votes and opportunity. Instead of drilling for oil, our wildcatters drill for overlooked voter geography and ideas that resonate with the masses.
Every year, there are dozens of races across the state that are predicted to have near-certain outcomes. These races comprise the political map that may appear static to the uninitiated and unimaginative. Our wildcatters jump into these races in hope of hitting the political motherlode.
Wildcatters battle the “big oil” institutions that have already staked out the great terrain for themselves and left behind only the land thought barren. Rather than accepting big oil’s conclusions, wildcatters test whether the wells are actually dry, or the races are actually unwinnable.
Political wildcatters don’t care if the race has been declared unwinnable or if the community isn’t ready for their brand of candidacy. These enterprising individuals see the trend before others—they see the curve around the curve. They spot a shift in the climate before the consultants can change their PowerPoints and oversized invoices.
New Jersey is never truly settled, even if the 565 towns appear well drilled and political claims staked throughout. New candidates can break the traditional rules of waiting your turn or staying in your lane. They can quickly reshape the political landscape. Wildcatter victories can disrupt and add new voices into the Trenton conversations. See, e.g., District 40 Senate race of 2007. But make no mistake, not every wildcatter campaign is successful. The vast majority fail. For every successful campaign launched in the Garden State, nine others are dead losers. See, e.g., Pete Dawkins’ U.S. Senate race of 1988.
The reality is most attempts at wildcatting lose traction, chase the wrong way, hire the wrong professionals, sign up with the wrong issues, fail to follow the shifting winds or otherwise fail to find the political mechanisms of a successful campaign. We never hear of these dreamers again—the folks who have a plan but fail to execute.
New Jersey is experiencing a moment where the political soils are shifting. Our demographics are changing and the growing public expectations are being set in a furious and constant motion. It is during these times that wildcatters will find success. They will test new messages and alliances as they attempt to be the first to see the future, to stake their claim before anyone else, or to grab real estate from a contented and out-of-touch speculator.
New Jersey politics has always been a tough mix of grit, gamble, and guile. Our state has never belonged to the cautious, it belongs to the risk takers who bet big on themselves. Wildcatting isn’t just a metaphor—it is a survival strategy. But enough about wildcatters, go watch the entertaining series Landman and learn a thing or two about making consequential decisions on the fly.
