MOUNT PLEASANT, S.C. — The Republican lawmakers stood with fixed smiles, shifting in place, facing down turmoil but no trial inside a municipal courtroom overstuffed with constituents.
Across the room, the first questioner foretold a long Saturday morning: “Are you personally proud,’’ the man, Ernest Fava, 54, asked, referring to President Trump, “to have this person representing our country?’’ The 200-odd attendees stirred.
Senator Tim Scott tried first. “Given the two choices I had, I am thankful that Trump is our president,’’ he said, to ferocious boos.
With the waters tested, Representative Mark Sanford waded in. “I think we’re all struggling with it,’’ he said of Trump’s tumultuous first month, to nods.
As members of Congress return home during a legislative recess most Republicans are dreading, a hearty few on Saturday charged headlong into the resistance. At events across the country, lawmakers have strained to quell the boiling anger at Trump — and often, the Republican Party — after four extraordinary weeks.
Some have fared better than others. In North Harmony, N.Y., Representative Tom Reed confronted what felt like interminable jeers, navigating hostile questions about abortion rights, efforts to dismantle the Affordable Care Act, and potential conflicts of interest for Trump. The crowd at a senior center was so large that the event was moved to the parking lot outside. Chants of “Do your job!’’ rang out.
“What I have heard is passion,’’ Reed said. “What I have heard is democracy.’’
In South Carolina, the twin billing allowed for a real-time comparison in how to handle Trump queries.
The town hall-style event was organized by Sanford’s office in conjunction with Indivisible Charleston, the local chapter of a national organization founded on the stated goal of “resisting the Trump agenda.’’
The result, predictably, was a tough room.
“May I finish?’’ Scott asked repeatedly, as attendees interrupted his answers defending dismantling the Affordable Care Act.
At one point, Sanford offered a lifeline. “Can I interject for a second?’’ he asked.
“Oh, please,’’ Scott replied.
At times in Washington, Sanford can seem like a caucus of one. In a city with a dress code, he disdains formal wear. He is perhaps the congressional Republican least bashful about disparaging him. And while he is not the only member of Congress to pursue an extramarital affair, he is almost certainly the first to turn “hiking the Appalachian Trail’’ into a euphemism for all time.
But the fallout from that episode — the disappearance to Argentina to visit his mistress, the wrenching public confession upon his return, the journey from possible presidential contender to political pariah to humble congressman — appears to have left him more eager than most to sort through uncomfortable truths.
So it was on Saturday, in a moment of boiling anger on the left and skittishness among many Republican lawmakers to face their own constituents, that Sanford seemed inclined once more to embrace his inner masochist.
Several constituents expressed gratitude that the two had bothered to come in the first place. One young woman, greeting Scott afterward, said she hoped to pursue public service.
“You still want to be in government?’’ he asked with a smirk, gesturing toward the masses.
