Run It Back
Know When to Hold'em, Know When to Fold'em
A Morning in Washington
It was a typical July morning in Washington, DC. I was ushered into The Crown and Crow, a Victorian-style basement bar off Logan Circle. I sat for makeup, facing the bar, while my daughter snapped photos to mark the moment.
At 10 a.m., I took my seat under the lights. Across from me sat Jake Tapper, flipping through notes and rereading old articles I’d written about what brought us there. The year was 2022.
Parallel Paths
I broke the ice with a little political trivia—his short stint working for a one-term congresswoman from suburban Philadelphia. She lost her seat in 1994 after casting the deciding vote on the Clinton budget.
That same wave that swept her out was the one that swept me in. He left Capitol Hill. I started there. Funny how that works.
Revisiting the Story
For three hours, we revisited Mark Sanford’s time as governor of South Carolina. The ideals he started with. The clashes with the legislature. The moments that foreshadowed trouble.
We ended with the five-day vanishing act that earned its own euphemism—“hiking the Appalachian Trail”—and the 18 months of chaos that followed.
The Documentary Lens
CNN aired it in February 2024 as episode two of United States of Scandal. It streamed to millions.
Sanford’s story wasn’t just about a man who went missing—it was about ego, ambition, power, and the people who get caught in the blast radius. It was strange seeing those chapters of my life reframed through someone else’s lens.
The editing, the narration, the soundtrack—they made it cinematic. Sharper in some places, blurrier in others. That’s the tradeoff when your real life becomes content.
A Familiar Voice
Jake Tapper summed it up during a podcast interview with Preet Bharara:
“We interview his longtime chief of staff, a guy who had devoted his life to Sanford for like 15 years, and he gave his only interview on this. A guy named Scott English, and just told us what everything looked like from the inside and how weird and strange it all was to be on the inside of a scandal and to be duped by a guy you believed in.”
Hearing that quote on Preet's podcast was a full circle moment. I had met Preet back in 2016 when I recovered Position 76 of the McCoy Block of the Inverted Jenny—a long-lost rarity in philately—during my work at the American Philatelic Society. It was a professional highlight that carried its own strange blend of pressure, history, and relief. Life has a way of looping back like that.
Stepping Away
After we wrapped up filming, I stepped away from writing. I needed distance. Documentary-making is slow work—months of interviews, b-roll, revisions, fact-checking, and cuts.
When it finally aired, someone messaged me: “You sure do curse a lot.”
They weren’t wrong. Politics will do that to you. It’s a high-stress, sharp-elbowed business. Even the nicest people come out a little frayed.
That pause also aligned with another major shift. After nearly 10 years with the American Philatelic Society and the American Philatelic Research Library, I decided to step away from my role as Executive Director.
It wasn’t easy. These organizations have been a huge part of my life, and we’ve accomplished a lot together. But it became clear it was time for new leadership and for me to find space to write again—to reconnect with the stories that brought me to this work in the first place.
Stories That Stay
This transition has given me time to reflect—not just on my work but on how stories live on after the cameras stop rolling or the headlines fade.
Watching the Sanford episode reminded me of the weight that narratives carry—how easily they can drift from what really happened to what fits the frame. And how important it is to keep telling stories that complicate the neat version.
Why This Site Exists
So, I'm returning to the page with the series behind me and a new chapter on the horizon.
The past few years reminded me that the stories we live through are only half the work—the rest is how we choose to tell them. I’m stepping out of one role and back into another. A little older, a little rougher around the edges, but still writing.
That brings me to this site—Political Hangover. The name isn’t accidental. It’s how it feels after years of campaigning, governing, surviving scandal, and watching the same cycle repeat.
There’s a headache, some regret, and more than a few stories that didn’t make it into the official record.
Looking Ahead
This is where I plan to tell those stories. Not the polished, press-ready versions, but the ones that linger after the speeches are done and the cameras pack up.
The ones that stick with you. The ones that still matter.
Thanks for reading. There’s more to come.