New Hampshire
SHOCK POLL: Trump Tied With Biden in Blue New Hampshire – NH Journal
President Joe Biden in Goffstown, N.H. on March 11, 2024.
Democrats have all but owned the Granite State’s four Electoral College votes, winning seven of the past eight presidential contests – including Joe Biden’s eight-point victory over President Donald Trump in 2020.
But the latest NHJournal/Praecones Analytica poll finds Biden tied with Trump in New Hampshire, putting him at risk of becoming the first Democrat to lose the state since Al Gore in 2000.
The survey of 862 registered voters taken the week of May 15-20 found Granite Staters evenly split between Biden and Trump at 36 percent, with 14 percent backing independent Robert F. Kennedy Jr. and another 12 percent choosing none of these.
Those numbers may explain why Biden is making his second Granite State stop in two months, an unusual travel pattern for a Democratic president in a competitive national election. For Biden, who rarely travels far from D.C. or his Delaware beach house, it’s particularly notable.
Biden is scheduled to appear in Nashua on Tuesday. On Monday, the Biden administration announced more than $3 million in Brownfield Grants “to rehabilitate and revitalize communities in New Hampshire,” including Nashua and Jaffrey.
“This helps to put President Biden’s visit this week into greater context, as that sound you hear is the 2024 battleground map expanding for Donald Trump, seemingly putting New Hampshire in play this fall,” said veteran New Hampshire GOP strategist Jim Merrill, who worked on the Mitt Romney and Marco Rubio presidential campaigns.
According to Praecones Analytica’s Dr. Jonathan Klingler, Biden’s struggles come from his loss of support among swing voters.
“While registered voters of both parties are largely united around their nominee, independent/undeclared voters are splitting their support in four statistically indistinguishable ways: between Biden, Trump, Kennedy, and other unnamed candidates,” Klingler said.
“In comparison to exit polls from the 2020 presidential election, independent/undeclared voters in New Hampshire demonstrate significantly lower support for Biden, as Biden won around 60 percent of these voters in 2020, compared to around a quarter if the election were held today.”
Biden is struggling in the polls in several states Democrats have done well in for years. The latest numbers show Biden and Trump in a close race for Minnesota, which hasn’t backed a GOP presidential candidate since President Richard Nixon’s 1972 49-state landslide.
And in Nevada, which Democrats have carried in six of the past eight elections, Trump has a six-point lead in the RealClearPolitics average, outside the margin of error.
But a Democrat in danger of losing a state in the heart of deep-blue New England would be a bad sign for the incumbent.
Biden also has a Kennedy problem. The new poll shows Kennedy’s support among Democrats is nearly twice as high (11.2 percent) as among Republicans. (6.6 percent).
RFK, Jr. first suggested a possible presidential run at the New Hampshire Institute of Politics in March, 2023. His progressive message has a large potential audience among Democratic voters who twice picked U.S. Sen. Bernie Sanders (I-Vt.) for the party’s presidential nominee.
Some Granite State political pros speculated that Biden’s weakness with swing or undeclared voters may be in part from his decision to dump the First in the Nation primary and his criticism of the Granite State as not diverse enough to be allowed to hold the Democrats’ first primary.
“He spent months insulting New Hampshire, and he wonders why he’s got a problem,” one Granite State Democrat and Biden supporter told NHJournal on background. “Politically active people, our party base, we understand the big picture, but the average voter thinks he was just being a jerk to us.”
When people think of New Hampshire, they usually think of granite, mountains, old white
churches, town greens and long winters. When I think of New Hampshire, I think of our people. I think of the feeling of growing up somewhere where history is not locked away behind museum glass. I think about the feeling of growing up somewhere that teaches you who you are before you are old enough to realize it.
I spent almost my entire childhood in Concord. Every important version of myself exists somewhere in this city. The awkward middle schooler wandering Main Street after school beneath strings of glowing lights. The nervous freshman trying to figure out who he wanted to become. The kid at the Concord Community Music School performing at recitals, hands shaking before walking onstage, discovering that playing guitar could make life feel bigger, brighter and more meaningful.
I think about early mornings rowing on the Merrimack with Concord Crew, the river covered in fog while the oars cut clean lines through the water. Some mornings the river felt silver and still; other mornings the current churned dark beneath us after rain. Watching the seasons change from the water taught me how slowly life transforms without you noticing. Green summer banks fading into fiery October trees, then bare branches outlined against cold winter skies.
The older I get, the more I realize how lucky I was to grow up in a place like Concord. It is not loud about what it offers you. Instead, it gives you something more lasting: community. A kind of closeness that settles into you over time until it becomes part of the way you move through the world.
Some of my strongest memories are simple ones. Walking downtown at sunset when the brick buildings glowed orange in the summer light. The smell of old wood, clay and paint inside Kimball Jenkins after shaping it into a small cup with my hands. Hearing music drift down the halls at the music school before a recital, notes echoing softly through the worn staircases. Sitting outside during Market Days while the streets filled with food vendors, kids running around with lion and fairy face paint, and musicians playing songs that bounced between the old buildings late into the evening air.
There is something deeply comforting about a city that respects its own history. Concord has always felt alive with memory to me. The old houses, white church steeples and worn wooden floors in certain buildings remind you that generations of people have passed through before you. It feels like people here understand that preserving history is care. They protect what matters because they believe future generations deserve to experience it too.
I think that shaped me more than I realized at the time.
New Hampshire taught me to slow down enough to notice things. The sound of leaves moving in the woods by my house. Snow falling silently outside during the winter, making the entire world pause for a moment. Long walks downtown where you somehow always recognized someone. Even the “between places” mattered: the trails, forests, rivers and back roads that reminded you the world was larger than your own worries.
As a senior in high school, I’m getting ready to leave for Dartmouth College this fall, and it doesn’t feel like I’m stepping away from home so much as moving deeper into it. I chose Dartmouth because it’s still rooted in the same landscape that shaped me. The woods, the cold rivers, the long winters and the quiet sense of space that feels so distinctly New Hampshire. Growing up in Concord, so many of the people I met, families at the YMCA, volunteers at the planetarium, friends of friends, teachers and mentors, seemed to have some connection back to Dartmouth, as if it were part of the state’s shared geography rather than something separate from it. Because of that, it already felt present in my life long before I applied. Leaving for Hanover feels like a continuation: not like leaving home, but like walking along the same trails I’ve always known, just farther into the trees.
Concord gave me my first experiences with art, music, friendship, independence and becoming part of something larger than myself. It gave me room to grow while still making me feel supported. It taught me that community is built through ordinary moments repeated over time until they become the foundation of who you are.
To me, New Hampshire means roots. It means history that still breathes. It means creativity, kindness, old buildings, deep winters, rivers at sunrise, summer festivals and long walks through the woods. Most of all, it means home.
Vaibhav Rastogi is a senior a Brady Bishop High School. He lives in Concord.
It wasn’t until I moved out of state for my first year at Syracuse University that I realized just how special New Hampshire is.
As a freshman, the first three questions you’re always asked upon meeting professors and fellow students are: name, major and hometown. When I answer that I’m from Webster, N.H., I’m often met with slightly perplexed expressions from domestic and international students alike. Something along the lines of, “I’ve been to Boston, but I don’t really know anything about New Hampshire” or “There’s a lot of mountains up there, right?”
So, I came up with a sort of elevator pitch. A quick and easy explanation of what New Hampshire is.
“Well, I live in the middle of the woods, off a dead-end dirt road. Enough so that I have videos of moose trotting across my yard, pictures of groundhogs sitting on my front doorstep and memories of my dogs playing with baby deer. But, I’m only a half-hour drive from the capital city, Concord. I’m an hour from the beach, an hour and a half from Boston, where I can see any of my favorite artists perform, and just two hours from Portland, Maine, and Burlington, Vermont. I’m surrounded by woods, lakes and mountains, but still have the option to venture into a city or lay by the ocean for a day if I’d like.”
At first, I was surprised by people’s reactions when they would comment on how nice it must be to live here. Enduring the cold winters and rural isolation gets old, and I certainly don’t plan on staying here forever. Still, I’ve noticed that the way I describe it has always been more affectionate than I gave it credit for.
But what I’ve realized since leaving is that New Hampshire is more than just its convenient geography. It’s a feeling you don’t fully understand until you’re far enough away from it to miss the small things.
It’s recognizing yourself in the lyrics of Noah Kahan, hearing your home described in a way that feels nostalgic and deeply personal. It’s the pride of seeing “Live Free or Die” on license plates and tattoos, knowing it isn’t just a motto, but a kind of identity people grow up internalizing.
It’s summers at Canobie Lake Park, riding Untamed for the tenth summer in a row and still flinching at the top. It’s road trips up North to Lincoln, watching the mountains slowly take over the horizon. It’s holding onto my dad as he snowmobiled around our house, wind biting my face while everything around us turned into a white blur. And it’s the constant hope of refreshing Snow Day Calculator, waiting for that announcement that meant the world would slow down for just one more day.
It’s the small familiarity of it all. Walking into Pitchfork Records and knowing the man behind the counter; talking about music as a shared interest, not a mere transaction. Visiting the middle school for my little brother’s events and knowing the teachers there will greet me like I’m still their student. It’s the kind of place where community quietly becomes a staple of your life.
It’s winter evenings that have a way of slowing everything down. Joining my family on the
couch with the sound of Fritz Wetherbee’s voice coming through the TV, steady and familiar. The introduction of the old, crackling vinyl singing, “There’s an old-fashioned home in New Hampshire with a light in the window for me.”
Although the appeal of New Hampshire has naturally worn off after 19 years in the same small town, and I often joke that I need to leave, my classmates’ replies have reminded me how remarkable the state really is. None of these experiences can quite capture it on their own, but together they point to what it means to be from a place that is small, but feels endless — one where nature, community, history and memory all overlap in ways you only fully appreciate once you leave.
I’ve always loved the idea of travel, and I have every intention of city hopping in the years to come, chasing new places and versions of “home.” But regardless of where I end up, the Granite State will always feel like mine. It’s where I know I can return when I need a renewed sense of familiarity, comfort or perspective.
For me, New Hampshire is more than the place I was born. It’s the confidence of knowing exactly what it feels like to belong somewhere, and the comfort of realizing it’s been there all along.
Addyson Kimball is a lifelong resident of Webster. She is currently a sophomore at Syracuse University, where she is dual-majoring in Political Science and Law, Society and Policy.
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