Jack Schlossberg's congressional campaign loses staff as insiders describe erratic behavior and chronic absenteeism

Jack Schlossberg, the 33-year-old grandson of President John F. Kennedy, is watching his congressional campaign shed staff at a striking pace, with insiders telling the New York Times that the operation has been marked by mysterious no-shows, skipped strategy meetings, and a candidate who once told aides he needed a nap before vanishing for the rest of the day.

The reports, first detailed by the New York Post, paint a picture of a campaign running on name recognition and little else, a bid for New York's 12th Congressional District that has cycled through at least two campaign managers, two field directors, several advisers, and a revolving cast of consultants in just six months.

Schlossberg is running to replace retiring Rep. Jerry Nadler in a crowded Democratic primary. He holds a narrow lead in the field and has picked up backing from prominent Democrats, including former House Speaker Nancy Pelosi. But behind the endorsements and the famous last name, the picture described by sources close to the campaign is one of disorder.

A campaign launch that started with a nap

The trouble reportedly began on the very first day. In November, when Schlossberg officially launched his campaign, sources told the Times that the former Vogue political correspondent bailed on a series of interviews with donors and media just hours into the effort. The reason, staffers were told: he needed to take a nap. He then disappeared for the rest of the day.

That pattern, insiders say, has continued. Schlossberg has flaked on weekly strategy meetings and often gone off the radar for long stretches. He regularly squeezed in swims and paddleboarding in the Hudson River. The campaign has burned through staff at a rapid pace, with the candidate axing a slew of employees, some of whom remained on payroll for weeks after being let go.

Jorge Muñiz Reyes, a canvassing coordinator who left the campaign last week, told the Times he walked out after losing patience with Schlossberg's lack of interest in community issues and campaign management. He compared the operation to a "dollar-store flower bouquet."

"The colors might be nice to look at for a few days. But since the flowers lack roots, they can't last very long."

That is not the language of a disgruntled volunteer. It is the assessment of someone who watched the day-to-day reality up close and decided to walk away.

Campaign manager points to personal tragedy

Schlossberg's campaign manager, Paige Phillips, pushed back on the reporting. She told the Times that the candidate has been campaigning "amid a deeply, deeply personal tragedy," a reference to the December death of his sister, Tatiana Schlossberg.

"If an anonymous source thought he 'disappeared' at any point, they should remind themselves of that fact."

Phillips also described Schlossberg as "decisive and honest about what (or who) works and what doesn't," framing the staff turnover as a feature rather than a flaw. She added:

"In a campaign that spans nine months, this stuff should not surprise anyone working in New York politics."

The loss of a sibling is a genuine and serious hardship, and no one should minimize it. But the timeline complicates that defense. The concerns about Schlossberg's fitness for the job reportedly surfaced in November, before his sister's death in December. The pattern of absenteeism, according to the Times' sources, predates the tragedy Phillips cited.

When lawmakers go missing from their duties, voters deserve answers. That principle applies regardless of party, as seen when Rep. Thomas Kean Jr. was absent from House votes for over a month amid an undisclosed health issue, prompting similar questions about accountability and transparency.

Schlossberg responds with a nap photo

Rather than address the substance of the reporting head-on, Schlossberg posted a photo of himself napping on Instagram Thursday morning. The caption read:

"Needed a quick nap!! Even though I just woke up. Rest of the day and months is wide open lmk if you wanna hang."

He also appeared on CNN to defend his campaign, telling the network:

"I work harder than anybody I know, and we're doing it all and making it look easy."

He went further, offering what he apparently considered a clever deflection:

"People can't figure it out. I've got four words for the pundits trying to understand our strategy: Follow the bouncing ball, meaning we're going to lead you and at the end, you'll find out how the song ends."

That is eleven words, not four. But the math is the least of the problems with that answer. When your own canvassing coordinator quits and compares your campaign to a dollar-store bouquet, "follow the bouncing ball" is not a strategy. It is evasion.

Staff turnover tells its own story

Campaign finance records and interviews cited by the Times reveal the scale of the churn: at least two campaign managers, two field directors, several advisers, and a revolving cast of consultants, all in roughly six months. That is not the normal friction of a competitive primary. It is a staffing crisis.

Schlossberg's supporters will point to his polling lead and his marquee endorsements. And in a Democratic primary in Manhattan, the Kennedy name still carries weight. But endorsements do not knock on doors. Name recognition does not show up to strategy meetings. And donors who were stood up on day one have reason to wonder whether their investment is being taken seriously.

The Democratic side of the aisle has no shortage of candidates and officeholders whose conduct raises questions about basic competence and accountability. Complaints about Rep. Eric Swalwell's use of campaign funds and the broader scrutiny of his conduct in office are just one example of how little accountability the party's leadership demands of its own.

The pattern extends well beyond any single race. When Democratic figures face serious questions, about their judgment, their associations, or their fitness for office, the party apparatus tends to close ranks rather than demand answers. That instinct was on display when Raskin and Swalwell cried foul over the FBI revisiting Swalwell's ties to a suspected Chinese spy, treating scrutiny itself as the offense.

The Kennedy brand meets reality

Jack Schlossberg is not an unknown quantity. Before entering politics, he served as a political correspondent for Vogue. He has cultivated a public persona built on social media charm and the reflected glow of Camelot. None of that is a substitute for the grinding, unglamorous work of running a congressional campaign, showing up for meetings, listening to constituents, managing a team, and treating the job like it matters.

The voters of New York's 12th Congressional District deserve a representative who will do the work. So far, the picture emerging from Schlossberg's own staff is of a candidate who treats the campaign as something between a hobby and a brand extension.

Democratic primaries have increasingly become stages for candidates carrying significant baggage, as recent contests in Texas have shown. The question for Democratic voters in Manhattan is whether the Kennedy name is enough to paper over what insiders describe as a campaign without roots.

Phillips says staff turnover over a nine-month campaign should surprise no one in New York politics. Maybe so. But candidates who skip their own launch-day interviews to take a nap, who vanish for long stretches, and who respond to criticism by posting selfies from the couch, that should surprise everyone. Or at least concern them.

What voters still don't know

Several questions remain unanswered. How many staffers have left the campaign in total? Which employees were fired, and when? What specific community events or constituent meetings did Schlossberg miss? The campaign has not provided detailed answers to any of these questions. Phillips's defense amounts to a plea for patience and a reminder of personal grief, sympathetic, but insufficient for a man asking voters to send him to Congress.

Schlossberg told CNN he works harder than anyone he knows. His own former staff, speaking on and off the record, described something very different. One of those accounts is wrong. Voters will have to decide which one.

A famous name can open doors. It cannot, by itself, keep the lights on, or the staff from walking out.