An upcoming book to be published by Penguin Random House.

Autorentext

John Fetterman, a Pennsylvania native, has dedicated his life to fighting for his state’s forgotten communities. As mayor of Braddock, Pennsylvania, for thirteen years, he worked to rebuild his community, creating jobs, stopping gun violence, engaging youth, and bringing creative urban policy solutions to Braddock. In 2018, Fetterman was elected as Pennsylvania’s lieutenant governor and transformed the position into a bully pulpit, advocating for marijuana legalization, economic justice, equal protection for the LGBTQ+ community, and criminal justice reform. He was elected the junior senator from Pennsylvania in November 2022 and was sworn in on January 3, 2023. He and his wife, Gisele, live with their children, Karl, Gracie, and August, in a restored car dealership in Braddock.

Klappentext

In this candid memoir, United States Senator John Fetterman shares the story of his journey in public service (which started by winning his first election by a single vote in 2005), including unvarnished details of his life-threatening stroke and struggles with depression, the truth about what really happens in Washington, and his vision for navigating our divided country’s future.

In his early twenties, John Fetterman seemed to be set for life. He had an MBA, a job in the risk management industry, and a comfortable future ahead of him. Yet something felt missing, insufficient, lacking in purpose. Having paired with Big Brothers and Big Sisters after a close friend’s tragic death, Fetterman decided to make a change and devote his life to public service instead—first in AmeriCorps, then as the mayor of Braddock, Pennsylvania, later as the state’s lieutenant governor, and now as its senior senator.

Today, Fetterman is the consummate anti-politician, instantly recognizable for his 6'8" height, his choice of facial hair, and his signature hoodies. A contrarian by nature, he quickly developed a reputation as a pugilist willing to take on Republicans and Democrats alike, in public if necessary. Little did the world know that his biggest fight was being waged in private, and often inside his own mind.

In Unfettered, Fetterman reveals, for the first time, the full story of a life and career marked by battles, from his work with community leaders to revitalize Braddock to his recovery from the stroke that nearly ended his political career, to his lifelong struggles with the depression that landed him in Walter Reed National Military Medical Center and nearly ended his life. At each step, Fetterman displays a rare level of candor for a sitting senator, sharing insights into the difficult and nonlinear path to mental health, the strain his challenges have placed on his family, the auditory processing issues he’s still overcoming, and more—all in the hope of paying it forward for anyone who has struggled with the depths of depression in their own life.

Despite the toll the past few years have taken on him, Fetterman’s passion for making change remains. Raw and visceral, this memoir is an unapologetic account of his unconventional life, a reminder that public service comes in many forms, and a vision for fighting the battles that matter in a divided country.

Leseprobe
1

Flight of the Monarchs

A few things to know:

My name is John Karl Fetterman. I am fifty-­six years old. I am six foot eight, which makes me the second tallest senator in American history. At first glance, I look like a skinhead. I stand out everywhere, and I know my life would be very different if I were a mere six foot two. My ears stick out like the flaps of a jet wing. My bald head could be used as a practice putting green. I can be ornery, and as Gisele will tell you, no one will mistake me for a good time.

I have few close friends, perhaps because I am not great at making small talk, and I’m perfectly content to stay at home in Braddock watching movies with my wife and three children and two dogs and Potato the cat. I am hardly a sports fanatic, and I’m not a big fan of crowds, which is not a good thing for someone in my field.

Otherwise, I am perfect . . .

I do love people in small settings, real people struggling for work and dignity in the contradiction that is America, where the haves only have more and the have-­nots only have less. It is the only reason I am here as an elected official—­to let people know they have an authentic advocate.

Unlike the majority of elected officials, I lived and worked for many years with those who were impoverished, who felt discarded and in fear of violence. I still live in a forgotten America.

This is my third year in the Senate, and I now wonder if what we politicians really like to do is fight and invoke lofty principles we don’t remotely embrace. In 1964, twenty-­seven Republican senators crossed the aisle to vote in favor of the Civil Rights Act. Could you imagine that happening today? Now Democrats blame Republicans, and Republicans blame Democrats. The members of each party vote like lemmings, in a monolithic bloc, regardless of whether it is good for the country. It just isn’t possible that every Republican actually disagrees with every proposal put forth by a Democrat. The same is true for every Democrat disagreeing with every proposal put forth by a Republican. There has to be some give-­and-­take, some accommodation, if we are to survive. Do you truly want to Make America Great Again? Start crossing the aisle in the name of what is right (instead of staying put to accrue more power).

Meanwhile, people collectively lose their shit over the dress code—­or, more precisely, my dress code of baggy shorts and a hoodie. Clothing has always been a hot-­button issue for me. When I was a teen, I could never find anything that fit, not even a simple pair of jeans. Wearing a suit makes me feel uncomfortable and adds to my general awkwardness, taking me back to the challenges of growing up. Even my own mom, Susan, doesn’t get it. She thinks I look “so handsome” in a suit.

She’s my mother.

The controversy over my attire started when I presided over the Senate one Thursday afternoon. It’s the ultimate graveyard shift, and I had received the assignment because I was lowest in seniority. On Thursdays, just about everybody has gone home for the weekend, and the chamber is virtually empty—­except for the occasional lone senator in the surreal act of making a speech to no one, to get it into the Congressional Record. I was eager to get home to see my family and worried I’d miss my flight if I had to change out of a suit. So, I stayed in my shorts and hoodie—­which was when everybody began to act like I had committed a breach of national security.

In September 2023, to accommodate me, Senate majority leader Chuck Schumer announced that he was relaxing the unwritten dress code for the Senate floor. I’d never asked him to do this. Knowing Schumer, he did it out of the decency of his heart, to make me feel more at ease.

Other senators felt I was sullying the decorum of Congress, and on September 27, 2023, the Senate, for the first time in 234 years, unanimously passed a resolution formalizing a dress code: While on the Senate floor, men would now be expected to wear a coat, tie, and slacks. The resolution was initially called the SHORTS Act ­or “Show Our Respect to the Senate.” This move was engineered by Senator Joe Manchin from West Virginia, who came up to me before the bill was introduced to make sure I was okay with it. I said I had no problem with a dress code. I appreciated Manchin checking in—­until the name of the act was unveiled, and it beca…