Does Anybody Know Who Darline Graham Is?

For much of her career, Graham has worked with disabled people. Before that, she was an optician. She grew up with Lindsey in Central, a small town in the northwest corner of South Carolina where their parents—who had both died by the time she was thirteen and he was twenty-two—ran a pool hall, bar, and restaurant. Upon their father’s death, Lindsey became Darline’s legal guardian. The available evidence suggests that they were very close. In 2src15, Lindsey—a lifelong bachelor—quipped that, if he were elected President, his sister could be his First Lady.

Darline Graham, since announcing her run, has tried to establish some convictions. She calls herself a conservative Republican. In her first campaign ad, she announced that she is anti-abortion and against transgender women competing in girls’ sports. She supports sanctions on Russia, ending the filibuster, and stricter voter-I.D. laws. In general, though, she’s been a relatively quiet candidate. When cornered by members of the press and asked about the minutiae of judicial nominations in a congressional elevator recently, she stayed mum. Her reticence could be strategic. “I think it’s probably smart to minimize media, because she’s got a real steep learning curve,” the strategist told me. “If the hard press starts drilling down on the issues, there’s a high probability she’ll stumble.” But her quietness may also be temperamental. Susan John, the current chair of the South Carolina Commission for the Blind, where Graham has been a commissioner, told me that Graham was “levelheaded” and “fair.” She gently conceded that Graham does not have the sense of humor that her brother was known for—“I would say Darline’s maybe a little more reserved in that capacity”—but John trusts Graham’s judgment. “She’s going to weigh what information she has and make the best business decision that she can,” she said. “She’s not going to sugarcoat things.” Was she, too, surprised that Graham had decided to run for a full term? “I don’t know,” John said. “I think there’s a lot of pressure for her to run.”

A former Lindsey Graham staffer named Tyson Grinstead spent some time with Darline when she joined her brother on trips and at sporting events. According to him, Graham is, unsurprisingly, a South Carolina Gamecocks fan. “She’s just sort of, like, a regular person,” Grinstead told me. “She’s a mom, and she’s just very similar to any Southern mom out there in South Carolina, or probably in Georgia as well.” I asked Grinstead whether Graham’s position as a senator would resemble Lindsey’s. Grinstead noted two areas of similarity: first, “affordability issues,” and second, Chick-fil-A. “She definitely aligns with Senator Graham on his love for Chick-fil-A.”

A week before the runoff, seeking more clues, I dropped into the Seneca Family Restaurant, in Seneca, South Carolina, where Lindsey Graham often ate. “He came by every chance he got,” the owner and cook, George Bakogiannis, told me. “He ordered hamburger steak, okra, and turnip greens.” Bakogiannis had seen Darline there, but not frequently enough to remember her order. “She was fun,” he said. “They supported us.” Still, someone had put a Ralph Norman sign on the grass out front.

I chatted up some patrons. “Can’t say anything bad about somebody who you don’t know anything about,” a Jet Ski builder named Elijah told me, referring to Graham. “People I know who liked Lindsey, though—they say they voted for him, not her.”

Nearby, two older men were eating. “I wish Trump would quit endorsing people without fully vetting them,” a retired nuclear-power-plant employee named Mark, who was wearing a “U.S.A.” ball cap and a T-shirt emblazoned with the American flag, told me. Mark described himself as “conservative as long as I can remember.” He was eating with Tommy, a retired forester. “I don’t know her any more than anybody else,” Tommy said, motioning around. “She goes by Graham, not Nordone. So that’s kind of weird.”

“I decided I’m going for Ralph Norman, because at least you know what you’re going to get,” Mark said. Tommy agreed. Lindsey Graham, Tommy added disapprovingly, making a flip-flopping hand gesture, was “a fish.”

Later that day, a hundred miles southeast, in Newberry, a debate between Graham and Norman was held. They mostly agreed on the issues—both showed some measure of skepticism about data centers, both voiced support for Israel. In response to a question about Taiwan, though, Graham admitted that she was “not that informed on national security,” and the audience booed. “I’m not a polished politician up here,” Graham said, in defense. Later, she criticized Norman for seeming to prefer D.C. over South Carolina, despite the fact that he ran for governor earlier this year.