President Trump is headlining the GOP's first-ever midterm convention at Dallas's American Airlines Center this week, but dozens of Republican lawmakers have opted to stay home, citing steep ticket prices and competitive races back in their districts.
The two-day event, billed as a massive show of party unity ahead of the November 3 midterm elections, opened Wednesday afternoon with Vice President JD Vance scheduled to speak that evening and Trump set to deliver remarks both nights. Organizers projected between 20,000 and 30,000 attendees over the two days and roughly 100 Republican House members and candidates in the arena.
But surveys of GOP lawmakers told a different story. The Daily Mail reported that Politico surveyed at least 45 out of 70 Republicans who said they would not attend or had not yet committed. NBC News contacted more than 50 members and got similar results, the majority said they would skip the convention entirely.
Trump, for his part, framed the absences as part of the plan. In a written post the day before the convention opened, the president declared the event "really 'HOT!'" and said the venue was "totally sold out."
He followed up with a second post aimed at explaining the thin lawmaker turnout:
"Everybody wants to be there, but we're really asking only those Candidates that are in tight Races, a little up, a little down, or even, to speak. We want to save the 'stage' for them. We don't need people who are up 45 points, and have been in office for 30 years, as much as we love them all!"
That framing, stage time reserved for competitive-race candidates, may explain why some safe-seat incumbents stayed away. But the list of absentees includes names that undercut the "tight races only" logic.
Sen. Susan Collins of Maine, a Republican running for re-election in what has been described as a toss-up race, confirmed she would not attend. Collins has clashed with Trump in the past, and her absence from a convention designed to rally competitive candidates stands out. Outgoing Texas Sen. John Cornyn, whose own departure from the Senate followed a public rift with Trump, was also missing from the event being held in his home state.
The convention's thin lawmaker turnout drew attention well before the doors opened, and the cost of attendance became a flashpoint.
Rep. Tim Burchett of Tennessee told the Daily Mail flatly that he would not be going.
"It's $25,000, apparently. It's pretty steep."
An internal memo from the National Republican Congressional Committee, distributed to House members, outlined the VIP package: for $25,000, lawmakers received two convention tickets, a reserved hotel room, and two spots at the chairman's welcome reception. A top-tier package ran as high as $100,000. Some tickets were offered for free, but the sticker price for the VIP tier plainly gave members in swing districts pause about how to justify the expense.
AP News confirmed that more than 100 Republican House members and candidates were expected to attend, each required to pay $25,000 for tickets and lodging, a detail that reinforced the financial barrier for rank-and-file members.
Rep. Tom Barrett of Michigan offered the most candid explanation for staying away. Barrett, who represents a competitive district, told Politico he saw more value in campaigning at home than sitting in an arena he could not control.
"I just felt I'd be more useful in my district. I can't control what the president's going to say at the convention, but I can control where I'm at, what I'm doing."
That calculus, weighing a president's rally against the grind of a tight local race, captures the bind facing Republicans in purple districts. For candidates who need crossover voters, two days at a convention headlined by Trump carries real political risk. For candidates in deep-red seats, the $25,000 entry fee is a hard sell when the money could go toward door-knocking and ads.
One unnamed convention organizer acknowledged the dynamic to the Daily Mail, saying that lawmakers who were not speaking were likely back in their districts campaigning. The organizer added uncertainty about how many Republican members of Congress would ultimately show up.
First Lady Melania Trump was also reportedly not attending the two-day event, though that absence was not explained in detail.
Two of the administration's highest-profile figures, Secretary of State Marco Rubio and Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth, were not slated to speak. Federal laws restrict cabinet members from appearing at political events, which likely kept both off the stage. Attorney General Todd Blanche was listed as a speaker but planned to appear in his personal capacity, a distinction that still raised Hatch Act concerns. The Hatch Act limits political activity by federal employees, and Blanche's appearance blurred the line between official duties and partisan campaigning.
Trump's broader political operation, meanwhile, was investing heavily in the midterm cycle. Just The News reported that MAGA Inc. poured $10 million into helping Texas Attorney General Ken Paxton win a U.S. Senate seat, a race Trump has personally championed. The president traveled to Texas to raise money for Paxton as part of that push.
Even the convention's television audience faced headwinds. The New York Post reported that the event competed directly with NFL season-opening games, the Patriots versus the Seahawks on NBC Wednesday night, and the 49ers versus the Rams on Netflix Thursday. Fox News committed to broadcasting live from Dallas, and C-SPAN planned wall-to-wall coverage. But ABC, NBC, CBS, and MSNBC did not respond to requests for comment about their coverage plans.
RNC Senior Advisor Danielle Alvarez pushed back on the viewership concerns, telling the Post that Trump remained "ratings gold." But GOP strategist Dennis Lennox of Michigan offered a blunter assessment:
"It's more of a Trump rally than a real convention of the whole Republican Party."
That tension, between a Trump-branded spectacle and a genuine party-wide mobilization effort, sits at the center of the convention's mixed reception. Over 20,000 people were expected to fill the arena, and the event marked the first midterm convention ever opened to the public. Democrats held midterm conventions in the 1970s and 1980s, but Republicans have never attempted anything comparable.
Trump himself framed the stakes in personal terms during a recent appearance in South Carolina, telling supporters to "pretend, please, that I'm on the ballot. Just come and vote." The midterms will determine which party controls Congress for the final two years of his presidency.
While Republicans gathered in Dallas, Democrats pursued their own strategy. Rep. Talarico headed to Hollywood for a second big-money fundraiser, underscoring how both parties are scrambling for cash and attention in the same compressed midterm window.
The RNC's organizational apparatus has been active on other fronts heading into November. The committee recently put New Jersey election officials on notice over failures to remove noncitizens from voter rolls, part of a broader election-integrity effort that party leaders see as essential to competitive midterm races.
But the Dallas convention exposed a gap between the party's ambitions and its internal cohesion. Trump wanted a packed arena and a unified show of force. He got the packed arena, organizers maintain the venue sold out. What he did not get was the full roster of Republican lawmakers standing behind him on camera, two months before voters decide whether his party keeps Congress.
Some of those absences reflect genuine strategic calculations. Barrett's logic is sound: a competitive House member gains more from knocking on doors in Michigan than from clapping in Dallas. Burchett's complaint about the $25,000 price tag is a fair gripe for a congressman who answers to voters, not donors.
Other absences carry a sharper edge. Collins skipping a convention built for candidates in tight races, while she herself sits in a toss-up, suggests something beyond scheduling. And Cornyn's absence from a convention in his own state speaks to fractures that no arena full of cheering supporters can paper over.
An emergency slide deployment on Trump's jet even delayed the president's own departure for Dallas, a fitting metaphor for an event that has not gone entirely according to plan.
A sold-out arena is a start. A party that shows up together is something else entirely.
