| PETERSBURG, Va. — Gov. Glenn Youngkin leaned back in a blood donation chair, boots up, collar open. An American Red Cross worker checked the flow from Youngkin’s arm and mentioned that he was already up to half a pint.
“Say that so the mayor can hear it,” Youngkin said, raising his voice and looking over at Petersburg Mayor Sam Parham, who was hooked up to his own IV and donation bag. “I’m halfway through! I’m going fast!”
The friendly taunt before local TV cameras in July highlighted the relationship that has blossomed over the past year between the governor — a White Republican — and the mayor, who is Black and a longtime Democrat. They pal around at news conferences, pose for pictures with local residents and praise one another to anyone who will listen.
The bromance is a byproduct of arguably the most unusual initiative of Youngkin’s time in office: the Partnership for Petersburg, a multiagency blitz assembled personally by the governor a year ago to aid this trouble-plagued city 20 miles south of Richmond.
Even as he travels the country in search of political donors and fanning rumors of presidential ambitions, Youngkin regularly visits Petersburg — he or first lady Suzanne Youngkin have spent hours there nearly every month — and often speaks on the phone with Parham. He has tasked a senior adviser with the full-time job of managing the partnership, created a website for it, and hosted Petersburg young people and city officials at the Executive Mansion.
All this on behalf of an overwhelmingly Democratic — and Black — city that gave him less than 14 percent of the vote in 2021. From a governor who pumped up largely White campaign crowds by railing against critical race theory, who cut the term “racial equity” out of school resource materials, whose director of what used to be called diversity, equity and inclusion told an audience at Virginia Military Institute that “DEI is dead.”
Such contradictions have been a hallmark of Youngkin’s short but meteoric political career — the red-vest-wearing suburban dad who happens to have a $400 million fortune and a friendly demeanor yet riles up the MAGA base while keeping Donald Trump at arm’s length. Even so, the Partnership for Petersburg raises at least two obvious questions:
Why is he doing it?
And, after a full year, is it making any difference?
Both have complicated answers.
Youngkin’s explanation for the effort, repeated at one event after another, is simple: “Petersburg matters.” In an interview with The Washington Post, he said he bonded with Parham when they met in early 2022 for a session on crime and was moved by the breadth of Petersburg’s predicament. No place in Virginia suffers a worse combination of violent crime, bad health outcomes and poor educational attainment.
Talking with Parham about that “was a real eye-opening, if not catalytic, moment for us,” Youngkin said. “Not just in understanding the breadth of the interlocked challenges, but also of a friendship.”
He decided to respond on a grand scale. Youngkin ordered every sector of state government to come up with steps to address aspects of Petersburg’s problems. Today the Partnership counts some 50 stakeholders — from state agencies to departments of local government, nonprofits, churches and businesses — in more than 90 separate initiatives, such as pop-up health clinics, after-school tutoring and homeownership seminars.
It’s unusual for a Virginia governor to focus so much on a single community, but the effort bears a resemblance to the work of former House speaker Paul D. Ryan (R-Wis.), a longtime friend of Youngkin’s whose American Idea Foundation creates public-private partnerships to aid poor communities.
“Speaker Ryan and Gov. Youngkin are close and definitely are united in their approach to expanding upward mobility and economic opportunities by engaging community stakeholders, businesses, academics and front-line nonprofits,” Kevin Seifert, a spokesman for Ryan, said in an email.
Asked about the resemblance, Youngkin said the Partnership for Petersburg is his own concept: “I don’t want to underappreciate the speaker, but … this entire approach is something that I have to say I’ve been thinking about for years.” He described it in terms that echoed his career in private equity, where he studied, acquired and reshaped companies across many industries. Rescuing a city with a broad portfolio of problems is an attempt to create “an ecosystem of transformation,” he said.
Suzanne Youngkin, speaking Wednesday at an event recognizing the first year of the effort, suggested that the Partnership for Petersburg is connected to the couple’s very public Christian faith. She told the audience of some 300 local residents and state officials that she was never sure why her husband decided to quit his job as co-CEO of the Carlyle Group and run for office. “I still struggle with what it was that God was calling us into,” she said, fighting back tears. “And I want to say, you know, I kind of think it’s this.”
The governor said later that he has similar feelings. “I’ll just go back to my personal faith,” he said. “Maybe we were supposed to do this. And I think that’s part of the both excitement and emotion of this whole project, because it does feel much bigger than us and it does feel like a true calling.”
Democrats have plenty of theories about why Youngkin is lavishing such attention on Petersburg — mostly centered on another p-word: politics. “Call me cynical, but it’s just optics. He just needs Black bodies for his photo ops,” said House Minority Leader Don L. Scott Jr. (D-Portsmouth), who is Black. From Scott’s perspective, Youngkin wants to soften his image with suburban swing voters who will determine which party gains control in this year’s General Assembly elections — and who could also propel Youngkin’s national ambitions.
One of the key elections that could determine whether Republicans maintain their 52-48 edge in the House of Delegates is a Petersburg-based district where Del. Kim Taylor (R-Dinwiddie) faces Democrat Kimberly Pope Adams. Wednesday’s event gave Taylor a chance to tell the crowd of local residents about her role in the achievements touted by Youngkin, such as sponsoring legislation to provide $2 million to tear down an abandoned hotel.
And there is at least one overtly political aspect to the initiative: At events, the banners proclaiming the Partnership for Petersburg feature the city seal paired with a smaller state seal surrounded by the words “Strengthen the Spirit of Virginia Together” — Spirit of Virginia being the name of Youngkin’s political action committee. Most of the signage reads, in small letters, “Paid for by Spirit of Virginia.”
It makes for jarring contrasts. In April, for instance, Youngkin staged a rally in Petersburg to celebrate 20 recipients of a total of $500,000 in small-business grants. The awards were made with state investment funds under an economic development initiative Youngkin commissioned called the Petersburg Founders Fund, yet the ceremony took place under signs labeled Spirit of Virginia.
Youngkin bristled when asked whether he sees a conflict in promoting his PAC at governmental events. “Don’t try to find something where there’s nothing,” he said. “We follow all the campaign rules. … Don’t try to suggest something that’s not even close to being right.”
He took issue with the suggestion that the Spirit of Virginia logo means politics. “It’s also the entire brand of what we’re doing as a governor,” Youngkin said. “I believe that the foundational emotion of the Commonwealth of Virginia is rested in the spirit of Virginia. The spirit of can-do, the spirit of … life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. … Together, it provides us confidence in what we can achieve. That’s the spirit of Virginia. It’s not a PAC. It is truly, truly a connectivity across the Commonwealth of Virginia that makes us so much better together than we are individually.”
Parham, the mayor, is also fed up with the suggestion that the partnership is simply an exercise in political image-building. His cozy relations with Youngkin have caused tension with other Democrats, but the city needs help, Parham said, and that fact eclipses politics.
Youngkin has done “more than any other elected official” to focus resources on Petersburg, Parham said. He credits Suzanne Youngkin as well. “We want somebody who sees the potential in us, and that’s what the Youngkins have done. We have been a traditionally Democratic city, but we’re willing to take a chance right now.”
Petersburg’s problems have been mounting for generations. An old railroad hub and river port that a century ago was as prosperous as nearby Richmond, the city went off the rails completely in the 1980s, when big tobacco factories left town, followed by a major luggage manufacturer. Petersburg has the largest majority of Black residents in Virginia — close to 80 percent of a population of 33,400 — and shares many characteristics with some of the poorest regions of Appalachia, but with a denser population and the violence and concentrated blight that goes along with urban decay.
In 2022, Petersburg had the state’s highest rate of aggravated assault per 100,000 residents and second-highest murder rate, according to Virginia State Police statistics. The city regularly ranks as the unhealthiest locality in Virginia, as in a 2023 report by the University of Wisconsin’s Population Health Institute and the Robert Wood Johnson Foundation that measured factors such as length of life, quality of life and the availability of care. In this year’s Standards of Learning test results, Petersburg’s schools ranked last in the state in reading scores and third from last in math.
A lot of governors on both sides of the aisle have taken aim at the city’s chronic struggles. Gov. L. Douglas Wilder (D) helped rebuild downtown in 1993 after a devastating tornado. Gov. Robert “Bob” McDonnell (R) mounted a national campaign to save a historic Catholic school there shortly before becoming governor. Gov. Terry McAuliffe (D) sent his secretary of finance to help avert a city bankruptcy in 2016; Gov. Ralph Northam (D) staged a public event there in 2018 to sign legislation creating shared economic development incentives for Petersburg and the struggling towns of Southwest Virginia.
And Petersburg has had its share of bright spots. It opened a spectacular new public library in 2014, welcomed a multimillion-dollar renovation of the YMCA in 2019, has nurtured a burgeoning restaurant scene and is developing a significant advanced pharmaceutical manufacturing cluster.
But even political opponents give Youngkin credit for taking a more comprehensive approach to the city’s problems, combining initiatives under a catchy name and keeping them in a spotlight.
“His people were smart enough to package it in a way that met the needs of the moment,” said former delegate Lashrecse Aird, a Democrat who lost her seat representing Petersburg in 2021 and now is running for state Senate. “It’s a production. It has been from step one, and it continues to be all the way through. But I’m also honest enough to say, ‘You know what? If this is what you’re doing to benefit you, it damn sure better benefit the people in the end … because they need it.’”
When the partnership was officially rolled out in a lengthy ceremony at the Petersburg Public Library in August 2022, Youngkin and his administration said its earliest element was already beginning to work: A three-month “surge” by Virginia State Police in support of an understaffed Petersburg Police Department had cut aggravated assaults by nearly half and murders by more than half, compared with two months before.
By the end of the year, though, violent crime had picked back up. Last year’s homicide total, 22, was greater than the 19 recorded in 2021, and aggravated assaults were exactly the same as the year before, according to state police statistics.
This year so far, homicides in Petersburg are on pace with 2022 — 15 at this point in both years — and aggravated assaults are down 20 percent, according to weekly city crime reports. More rapes have been reported — eight, compared with six at this point in 2022 — but robberies are down 37 percent.
Other statistics are even more stubborn. Health-care providers have held more than 236 “health-related events” and pop-up clinics in Petersburg during the past year, according to the Youngkin administration. But the city’s overall health statistics are as bad in the most recent Robert Wood Johnson report as they were the year before and the year before that.
Youngkin, Parham and other officials acknowledged last week that it will take a long time to improve Petersburg’s woes. The aim is to “change trajectory and put Petersburg on a new path” that will manifest over years to come, Youngkin said.
Garrison Coward, the senior adviser who Youngkin has tasked with administering the effort, said he spends all day, every day focused on Petersburg. He visits the city two or three days a week, coordinated internships for 70 young people over the summer and interacts with dozens of private-sector partners. “The governor starts every Cabinet meeting asking everyone how their initiatives are doing in the Partnership for Petersburg,” Coward said.
Youngkin said he also has created a position in the state Education Department whose sole focus is working to create more options for child care in Petersburg.
Rep. Jennifer McClellan (D), who represents the area in Congress and grew up there, said she appreciates Youngkin’s efforts but questions why he’s focused on the city when there is so much need in the counties around it and the state as a whole.
“The entire region needs to work together,” McClellan said.
Last week, Youngkin acknowledged that he has heard complaints from other areas. Soon, he said, he will announce a similar program in another locality.
One more thing the Partnership for Petersburg has created: political tension in this Democratic stronghold. Parham makes no apologies for that — he said he’s happy to work with Youngkin, that even their wives have become friends. Youngkin has appointed Parham to the Virginia Advisory Board on Service and Volunteerism, and when Youngkin staged a theatrical signing of the state budget last month, Parham was there on the Capitol steps behind him.
“He’s a real spiritual man, and I feel like we really connect spiritually,” Parham said, adding that he likes the way Youngkin opens meetings with a prayer. “God has taught us to love all people and that’s something we’ve strayed away from. People say, ‘Oh, you shouldn’t like him. He’s a Republican.’ I don’t care about people’s perspective,” he said.
The friendship caused a memorable showdown late last year between Parham and Scott, the House minority leader who would be in line to become House speaker if Democrats win the majority in this fall’s elections. Scott was invited to a banquet for the Petersburg Democratic committee and made remarks about the need to address long-standing problems of disinvestment in Black communities.
Scott credited Youngkin with taking positive steps in Petersburg but then cautioned — in pointed language — that “the community should not be tap-dancing or aiding this idea of [Youngkin being] a savior to this Black community,” according to Aird, the former delegate who attended the banquet. Scott confirmed her account.
The sentiment drew loud applause, Aird said, but Parham stood up angrily at his table in the audience. “What have you done for Petersburg?” he demanded, according to Aird. “The whole room sort of was just like taken aback and wondering what’s about to happen next,” Aird said.
Scott, a sharp-tongued defense lawyer who doesn’t shy from confrontation, shot back at Parham: “Don’t be mad at me for saying the truth and for saying what needed to be said,” Aird recalled. After more testy back and forth, Parham and others from Petersburg city government stormed out of the banquet.
Asked about the confrontation, Parham expressed frustration with Democrats as a whole, who he said have taken for granted that Petersburg residents will vote for the party while the city’s problems just go on and on. State leaders have had “no type of plan to help a city that’s been struggling for decades. Keep them in poverty, keep them uneducated, keep them suffering, keep them Democrats. As long as you’re voting Democrat, we don’t have to do anything,” he said.
Parham is particularly incensed that he has been unable to get Democrats in the General Assembly to aid Petersburg’s quest to get a casino, instead allowing the city of Richmond to take a second swing at a casino project after voters there rejected one two years ago.
A casino “could’ve changed the trajectory of this city for decades to come,” he said. “They purposely said, ‘No, Petersburg, we’re not going to help you.’ … I have kids living in motels, kids who are hungry and not getting a good education. Should I be okay with that? … I’m trying to help the city as a whole.”
Scott said in an interview that he understands Parham’s desperation but dismissed the idea that Democrats have turned their backs. Many of the accomplishments that Youngkin cites in touting the Partnership for Petersburg, he said, were passed or set into motion years ago. Money for a big new regional bus station, passed by Democrats in 2016. Money for a water tower to help the burgeoning pharmaceutical industry, passed by Democrats in 2021.
While Youngkin smiles with Parham for the TV cameras, Scott said, the governor is working behind the scenes to drastically curtail the restoration of voting rights to people convicted of felonies — a population that’s disproportionately Black. “I don’t think he gives a damn about Black communities,” Scott said.
The confrontation with Parham at last year’s banquet, Scott said, proves the party will not be divided by Youngkin’s efforts. “At the end of my speech, I got a standing ovation. The folks in the audience agreed with my comments more than they did with the mayor.”
Around town in Petersburg, there’s no doubt that many residents appreciate the attention from the governor — especially the $25,000 grants awarded to 20 local businesses, out of 240 that applied.
“It was a great opportunity,” said Senithia Martin, who won a grant for the Appomattox Event Center she runs in a refurbished downtown warehouse. She used the grant money to buy elegant chairs for weddings and to afford a marketing service to help get the word out.
Martin, who is Black, said she usually votes for Democrats and has heard plenty of chatter about Youngkin using the Partnership for Petersburg to score political points. She doesn’t care. “Him being a Republican governor makes no difference to me,” she said, compared with “him being a person that sees a need.” Help is help, regardless of the motivation, Martin said.
A few blocks away, Demetrius Frazier was at work inside the bookstore he opened this year: Resist Booksellers, which specializes in Black authors and issues. Frazier also won a $25,000 grant, which he said was crucial to helping his business survive its tough first few months.
As reflected in the name of the store, much of Frazier’s inventory is in opposition to the politics of someone like Youngkin — books that are favorable to critical race theory, that deplore the disenfranchisement of Black voters through the criminal justice system, that question the white power structure.
Frazier said he would like to think the grants and the Partnership for Petersburg represent a chance to heal something more than just immediate needs.
Youngkin “has invested in a city where it’s predominantly Black. That can be viewed as a bridge. I’m hoping it’s a bridge, and I’m hoping that some of his policies that he has put out could be reconsidered. Now … it could be also viewed as pandering,” Frazier said. “I’m hoping that’s not the case. … I hope it’s not being used for some political, you know, maneuvering. But that’s the way of politics.” | 
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