SAN FRANCISCO – California Governor Gavin Newsom, ever the empathic everyman in a state of 39 million, shared a poignant anecdote Friday at a Sacramento fundraiser, recounting how strangers at eateries are overcome with emotion upon spotting him—hugging him tightly and sobbing at the mere thought of President Donald Trump’s second term. “I walked into a restaurant the other day… the entire staff came out, started hugging me and crying,” Newsom recounted, his voice softening as the crowd of 500 donors nodded solemnly. “They’re terrified of Trump. Terrified of what’s happening to our country.”
The revelation, delivered amid a $2 million haul for his political action committee, paints Newsom as a beacon in blue America’s storm-tossed seas. At 58, the silver-haired Democrat—hailed by allies as a 2028 frontrunner—has leaned into this role since Trump’s January inauguration, his social media trolling of the president evolving into a full-throated embrace of the “resistance.” From the fundraiser dais, Newsom wove the story into a broader lament: families fractured by 480,000 deportations, healthcare gutted by OMB freezes like Chicago’s $2.1 billion slash, and a “nursing home Congress” too geriatric to fight back. “These aren’t actors; these are real people, breaking down because they see me as a fighter,” he said, eyes glistening under the chandeliers.
The vignettes aren’t isolated. Newsom has regaled audiences with similar encounters: a barista in Los Angeles whispering pleas for sanctuary aid, a diner in Oakland clutching his arm over birthright citizenship’s demise. It’s a masterclass in empathy theater, boosting his approval to 54% amid Trump’s 55% national clip—though independents split 52-48 on his “hug diplomacy.” Republicans scoff: Riverside Sheriff Chad Bianco, who torched Newsom’s presidential dreams, dismissed it as “crocodile tears from a career pol chasing cameras.” Trump’s camp piled on, with Press Secretary Karoline Leavitt quipping, “Gavin’s the only one crying—over his poll numbers.”
Yet in a nation cleaved by shutdowns and “No Kings” echoes, Newsom’s sob stories resonate. As he eyes the horizon—perhaps a Senate run or White House whisper—the hugs multiply, a testament to fear’s currency. Is it genuine grief, or gubernatorial gold? In California’s gilded grip, tears flow freely—whether from terror or tactics.
