Barnestorming

Near Lake Michigan, surrounded by tall prairie grass, three Franciscan nuns wait for the arrival of Wisconsin Lt. Gov. Mandela Barnes. Sister Nancy Langlois confesses she doesn’t know much about the 32-year-old Milwaukee native.

“But from everything I’ve heard, he seems to be a bright young man,” says Langlois, a member of the Sisters of St. Francis of the Holy Cross diocesan community. “It’s a privilege to show him what we’re doing here.”

The nuns in Green Bay have been busy. The convent is expanding its solar panel array that powers its motherhouse, bringing their green energy production to 50 percent.

Right on cue, Barnes confidently strolls up the grassy path to greet the sisters. He’s wearing a light blue, fitted button-up with dark slacks and old-school orange Nikes that would be the envy of any sneakerphile. The lieutenant governor is undeniably cool but a boyish grin puts people at ease.

Earlier on this day, July 8, Barnes helped plant a tree at Titletown to mark another year of the Green Bay Packers’ “First Down for Trees” program. He also met with that city’s mayor to discuss sustainability projects and potential partnerships.

“We try to be very environmentally conscious,” Sister Rose Jochmann tells Barnes. “Once you pay for the panels, we think of it as free energy.”

“We need more champions of the environment in this state. We appreciate everything you are doing here in this beautiful place,” Barnes tells the nuns. “Let’s install some solar panels!”

Helping a community of nuns go green is just one of Barnes’ duties as Wisconsin’s lieutenant governor. The state constitution outlines no official role for the office besides being first in line to head state government if the governor dies, resigns or is removed from office. As a result, Barnes serves largely at the discretion of Gov. Tony Evers.

Unlike the vice president of the United States, a candidate for Wisconsin governor does not select a running mate — the voters do. Even so, U.S. Rep. Mark Pocan (D-Black Earth) says in his three decades in politics, he’s “never seen a governor and lieutenant governor work together this closely as a team.”

“When [Evers and Barnes] ran in 2018, they were a true ticket. I give Evers a lot of credit for utilizing Mandela’s talents, his ability to get people excited and to reach a new generation of voters,” says Pocan. “Watching them today still operate as a team is a different development than I have seen in my time in state government.”

Alongside the governor, Barnes helped lead public listening sessions on the 2019-2020 state budget in Green Bay, La Crosse, Superior, Oshkosh, Milwaukee, Eau Claire and Stevens Point. The Evers administration frequently sends the lieutenant governor around the state to act as an ambassador on the governor’s behalf and to fire up crowds at joint appearances. Barnes is also mending fences with local officials.

“Whenever I travel, I try to connect with local leaders whether it be a county board supervisor, a mayor or a school board member to hear what they are working on and try to be helpful,” Barnes tells Isthmus. “Cities and local governments are driving the change we need on issues that we aren’t getting traction on with the current Legislature. We want them to know that it isn’t going to be the adversarial relationship that existed for the past eight years.”

Preston Cole, secretary of the state Department of Natural Resources, says Barnes is a key point person for the governor and is coordinating the state’s response to climate change.

“We are giving him ideas for a roadmap to begin real change on how we look at this issue. He’s making sure Wisconsin leads on climate change legislation,” says Cole.

Barnes is the youngest lieutenant governor in the country. His political career could have been over two years ago after unsuccessfully challenging a veteran Democrat for the state Senate. Mordecai Lee, a political science professor at UW-Milwaukee and a former Wisconsin lawmaker, says Barnes has great timing.

“He must be the luckiest politician in Wisconsin,” says Lee. “He lost a race for state Senate and three years later he found himself lieutenant governor.”

Barnes doesn’t disagree.

“A lot of it is based on knowing the right moment,” Barnes says about his political career. “It’s all timing. Seriously, it’s all timing.”

Eight months into his meteoric rise, Wisconsin’s lieutenant governor is in a sweet spot to lay the groundwork for higher office. But he’s also had a brutal summer, dogged by unflattering headlines of his own making. Now, Barnes wants to take back control of his narrative.

Barnes biography, on Gov. Evers’ state website, cites the lieutenant governor as an “alumnus of Alabama A&M.” The word choice is important because Barnes didn’t, technically, graduate from the historically black university — information he voluntarily discloses to Isthmus for this story.

“I had a class. I got an incomplete. I completed the coursework to get that incomplete resolved. It never got turned in,” Barnes explains during a July 31 interview. “It’s a small technical thing…. The only difference, in terms of graduating, is the literal sheet of paper.”

Barnes sought a degree in telecommunications from Alabama A&M. Isthmus was unable to confirm his graduation status with the university. However, the National Student Clearinghouse confirms he was enrolled, with a full credit load, for nine consecutive semesters from August 2003 through December 2007 and was enrolled half-time in the first semester of 2008.

Since then, he’s attempted to get his diploma but it kept proving “more stressful than it was worth.” The lieutenant governor is now working with Alabama A&M and says he’ll be a bonafide graduate soon.

“I didn’t leave on a bad note. It’s not like there was some deficiency where I dropped out.... I was the senior class vice president,” Barnes says. “This is something that [the university] wants to see resolved as much as I want to see resolved.”

While he insists he never deceived anyone, multiple news outlets have labeled him a graduate of Alabama A&M and he didn’t correct the error. The day after his electoral victory in November 2018, the website for the Alabama Media Group, which owns several newspapers in the Yellowhammer state, published the article, “Alabama A&M graduate becomes first black lieutenant governor of Wisconsin.” 

So why is the lieutenant governor coming clean now? “Why not?” Barnes says before slumping back in his chair. When pressed again, he just shrugs his shoulders.

On June 3, the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel reported that Barnes had $108 in unpaid parking tickets from 2018 which prevented him from renewing his car registration (the fine has since been paid). The Republican Party of Wisconsin coupled this news with a May 15 Wispolitics article that found security costs for Barnes were significantly higher than the last year his predecessor Rebecca Kleefisch was in office, claiming: “Barnes is using State Patrol as personal Uber service because he cannot legally drive himself.”

“Without a registered vehicle, Barnes has been relying on State Patrol to serve as his own personal chauffeur service at significant cost to taxpayers,” states the GOP’s June 3 news release. “Wisconsinites should be appalled that Barnes is arrogant enough to believe he can exploit taxpayers for his own personal benefit under the guise of ‘security.’”

The Republican Party of Wisconsin and its communication director, Charles Nichols, did not reply to several requests for comment.

The Evers administration told the Associated Press that the State Patrol decides what level of security is needed — the same process as when Walker was governor. Barnes says the comparison between him and Kleefisch doesn’t reflect how each served the role of lieutenant governor.

“Walker didn’t include [Kleefisch] in much of the conversation,” he says. “He didn’t include her much in governing. They weren’t partners in the work.”

On June 14, the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel reported that Barnes was delinquent on his 2018 property taxes. Records from the Milwaukee treasurer’s office show he paid the bill and a $155.26 late fee on June 25 — about five months after it was due. Milwaukee conservative talk radio host Dan O’Donnell labeled him “Mandeadbeat Barnes.”

“I was obviously going to pay my property taxes. They take your house if you don’t pay. There was never a question of whether I was going to pay,” says Barnes. “What they don’t say in these articles is that in order to campaign [for lieutenant governor], I didn’t have a paying job in 2018.”

One of Barnes’ strengths is his friendly, engaging demeanor. But he’s noticeably defensive and uneasy when talking about mistakes from his past. When asked about his taxes during an interview with Fox 6 on June 19, Barnes stormed out.

He calls the GOP narrative about him “race baiting.”

“They don’t challenge me on my policy positions, ever,” he adds. “This is a tried and true strategy: racism. It’s not any different than what Reagan did with that supposed welfare queen.  It’s not a dog whistle if everybody can hear it. And these are people who hate taxes. Which is a disgusting irony.”

Jesse Mandela Barnes was born in Milwaukee in 1986. He’s gone by his middle name — a tribute to South African anti-apartheid revolutionary Nelson Mandela — since he was a kid. He says his legal name now is J. Mandela Barnes. 

“I had to learn diversity but it was kind of like silo diversity,” he says. Barnes says his family lived for a while in a neighborhood with few other black families. “At that time, most of my neighborhood friends were white. But all my friends at school were black,” says Barnes. “My schools have always been black. Elementary. High school. College. Things were just different between my friends at school and my friends at home. It helped me learn how to navigate all that.”

That experience straddling two worlds is part of what motivates Barnes’ commitment to ending “the racial imbalance in this state.”

“I do think there is an obligation for me to show up in places that I’m not expected to show up,” says Barnes. “I’ve always wanted to unite the state behind common goals.”

Barnes is an only child from a union family. His dad, who is also named Jesse, is a retired UAW member and a labor activist. LaJuan, his mom, is a retired physical education teacher with the Milwaukee public school system. His grandmother worked in the kitchen of a Milwaukee public school. His grandfather was a factory worker for the manufacturer A. O. Smith — which once employed thousands of blue-collar workers in Milwaukee but no longer has a manufacturing facility in Wisconsin.

“From my whole upbringing, I knew the importance of organized labor,” says Barnes. “I know what that means for working people.”

Barnes skipped two grades of elementary school and graduated from Milwaukee’s Marshall High School at 16. “I did pretty good but I was not some star-studded 4.0 student by any means,” says Barnes. “School was all right. It was what it was, man.”

At that, Barnes’ communication director Earl Arms — who went to high school with him — busts out laughing like it’s ninth grade geometry class. Barnes rolls his eyes. Neither let Isthmus in on the joke.

Barnes’ political aspirations cemented in 2004 after watching Barack Obama, who was running for the U.S. Senate, deliver his much-heralded speech at the Democratic National Convention. “That was the moment it all came together,” says Barnes. “Where I started thinking about my future in politics more intentionally.”

All eyes turn to Barnes when he shows up at Madison East High School on June 25. Around 200 demonstrators have marched over 50 miles, in four days, from Palmyra to the Capitol to demand Republican lawmakers adopt Evers’ proposed $1.4 billion increase for Wisconsin schools. The lieutenant governor is at the school to deliver a pep talk before the last leg of the march.

“Gov. Evers says what’s best for our kids is best for our state. I know this room couldn’t agree more…. I am so proud to be a public education product of Milwaukee public schools,” Barnes tells the crowd crammed into the school’s cafeteria. “This is a fight that none of us will give up on. I think you all just proved it by walking here.”

After Barnes’ speech, people line up to talk to him and to take dozens of selfies. Max Love, Barnes’ executive assistant, says, “It’s like this all the time. He does a lot of selfies.”

Savion Castro, who was recently appointed to the Madison school board, worked on Barnes’ state Senate campaign. The lieutenant governor was there to see Castro take the oath of office during the board’s July 29 meeting. Castro calls Barnes a role model.

“He’s always looking to lift people up. In any new initiative he takes on, he looks at how to change the culture so that people who have been historically left out are brought into the process,” says Castro, a legislative aide for state Rep. Shelia Stubbs (D-Madison). “I think everyone can draw inspiration from him: A willingness to take risks to do what you think is right. To not be afraid to put yourself in the spotlight.”

After college, Barnes worked as a receptionist in Milwaukee Mayor Tom Barrett’s office before becoming the lead organizer for Milwaukee Innercity Congregations Allied for Hope, a social justice advocacy group. In the aftermath of the massive 2011 street protests over Walker’s Act 10 — which significantly curtailed collective bargaining rights for most public sector unions — Barnes saw an opening to challenge state Rep. Jason Fields, a three-term Democrat.

Barnes won by 35 points in a race that focused on Fields’ support for school vouchers, traditionally an issue championed by conservatives.

“Had I tried to work within that Milwaukee machine, I would have never been elected state representative. I didn’t wait my turn,” Barnes says. “What’s the point of sitting around waiting?”

Barnes was 25 when he was elected to the Assembly, the youngest member of the Legislature at the time. He championed bills to reform the criminal justice system, including ending solitary confinement, decriminalizing marijuana and enacting stronger gun control laws. He called for investigating the mistreatment of juveniles at the Lincoln Hills facility and pushed for expanding victim and witness advocacy programs. He sponsored legislation to expand the earned income tax credit and to make state technical colleges tuition-free. He also chaired the Legislature’s Black and Latino Caucus. But Democrats were deep in the minority, holding just 39 of 99 seats when Barnes served, and his agenda went nowhere. 

“It was tough to be relevant. But the people who elected you are counting on you to do something,” says Barnes. “It was a great experience that I needed. You learn state government — the gritty side of it.”

After two terms in the Assembly, he decided to give up his safe seat to challenge state Sen. Lena Taylor (D-Milwaukee).

“That was the worst period of my life. I hated every day of that campaign. Every. Day,” says Barnes. “I felt it at the doors. [Taylor] had been there for a while. People had a lot of respect for her and they questioned why I was even running. I honestly think if that election was today, as the lieutenant governor, I would still lose.”

After a bruising 20-point loss to Taylor, Barnes landed a position doing research for lawmakers at the State Innovation Exchange, a national center that helps state lawmakers advance progressive policies. He loved the job, which involved working with policy makers across the country. But in 2017, he realized the timing was right to seize another opportunity.

“It was a strike-while-the-iron-is-hot moment. We had the most unpopular president in my lifetime and Democrats had a real shot at winning [the governor’s office],” says Barnes. “I knew Walker was vulnerable. He didn’t do himself any favors running for president and his record was catching up with him.” 

Still, many politicos tried to dissuade him. Supporters of Madison firefighter Mahlon Mitchell, who was running for governor in a crowded Democratic primary field, were fearful that Barnes’ candidacy would backfire against their candidate.

“There were a number of people who told me I shouldn’t run for lieutenant governor because I might interfere with [Mitchell’s] chances of beating Walker,” says Barnes. “I was like, ‘What do you mean?’ — obviously knowing exactly what they meant. They danced around it and said, ‘You know ... two solid progressives.’ I told them if voters aren’t going to go for two black guys they are never going to go for one black guy at the top of the ticket.”

Mitchell came in a distant second in the 2018 Democratic gubernatorial primary. Barnes handily won his primary against Sheboygan businessperson Kurt Kober with 68 percent of the vote. Incumbent Lt. Gov. Rebecca Kleefisch was the first Republican Barnes would face at the ballot box.

Evers couldn’t be more different than Barnes. He grew up and worked much of his career as an educator in rural Wisconsin. He is 35 years older than Barnes and has seven grandkids. He doesn’t wear progressive politics on his sleeve. The governor had no idea who Rihanna was until Mandela came around.

Still, the pair clicked.

“We both brought something different to the table. Evers had won three statewide elections before. People knew and trusted him. He’s not an ego-driven guy whatsoever and was a very credible alternative to Walker,” says Barnes. “I came from the Legislature representing Milwaukee and I’m just, you know, a totally different demo. Our styles are different but it worked.”

Barnes credits Evers’ campaign for not confining him to Milwaukee, which has the highest share of black voters in the state. “They never said we are going to keep Mandela in Milwaukee. No, you’re going to Hurley,” says Barnes, who embraces the role of being Evers’ hype man. “People like to be fired up. The governor has great things to say. If I could add energy to that, all the better.”

Barnes says he’s focused now on being lieutenant governor.

“I foolishly thought things would slow down,” says Barnes with a laugh. “That was not the case.”

Professor Lee says Evers allows Barnes to have a “much higher profile” than previous governors have given their lieutenants. “Maybe it’s the governor’s personality, maybe it’s the governor’s style of operating, whatever it might be, Barnes is more visible with Evers than other lieutenant governors were,” says Lee. “In particular, Tommy Thompson vis-a-vis Scott McCallum.”

Evers has tried to stay above the political fray, but Barnes embraces progressive politics and is open about it. It’s one reason why he and Evers have proven to be successful political partners.

“I always think we should be challenging the system. I always think we should be pushing to do more,” says Barnes. “We should be vocal about progressive ideas and a progressive vision. Politicians need to be challenged.”

Pocan says the duo has “synergy.”

“There’s genuine respect and friendship between the two,” says Pocan. “They do — and we’re seeing it — expand the power of both offices because they work together so closely.”

While Evers battles with Republicans at the Capitol and tries to avoid the trappings of partisan politics, Barnes is out selling the governor’s agenda across the state and rallying the troops. The governor’s affection for Barnes was evident during the campaign.

“He’s so enjoyable to be with,” Evers told Isthmus at the time. “He’s fun. He’s smart. We feed off each other. The energy is good. He’s a great partner…. I can’t wait to find a place for him to be a real asset to the state of Wisconsin.”

In that regard, Barnes is finding his way.

“A lot of what I can do as lieutenant governor is just listen. Connect with people on the issues they care about,” says Barnes. “It’s a pretty great gig.”

Barnes deflects questions about his future plans, declining to say whether he intends to run for governor or U.S. Senate in the future.

“I’m not saying no to anything, either. The door is open. Whatever the people of Wisconsin will have me do, I’ll do to the very best of ability,” says Barnes, who turns on the charm. “That was my most political answer of this interview.”

[Editor's note: This story has been edited because it originally referenced Lt. Gov. Barnes as being his senior class president in college. He was the senior class vice president. It also originally stated that Mordecai Lee teaches at Marquette. He teaches at UW-Milwaukee.]