Dark Money Fuels Colorado Proposition NN Education Fight

Aspen —The wind off the Flatirons carries a sharp, metallic chill this week, cutting through the thinning air of October. It’s the kind of weather that makes you pull your collar up and hurry home, a physical reminder that the season is turning and the ground ahead is getting harder to read. In the valley, that same sense of urgency has settled over the political landscape. With less than a month until the November midterm elections, the financial engine behind Proposition NN is roaring to life. According to filings with the Colorado Secretary of State’s Office, significant contributions have poured in from political organizations and anonymous “dark money” groups, transforming a quiet legislative debate into a high-stakes battle for the state’s wallet.

Proposition NN, placed on the ballot by Democrats through Senate Bill 26-135, asks voters to let the state retain and spend up to $4.6 billion more in tax money than the Taxpayer’s Bill of Rights currently allows. In exchange, taxpayers would give up their TABOR refunds indefinitely to fund a 2% annual increase in K-12 education spending. The measure promises improved teacher pay and smaller classroom sizes, a trade-off that supporters argue is necessary to retain high-quality educators. Opponents counter that it erodes the voter protections TABOR was built on, leaving behind what they call a “blank check” for lawmakers once the specific education restrictions phase out after ten years.

The money is moving fast, and it’s coming from unexpected places. Yes for Colorado Kids, the primary statewide campaign supporting the measure, has raised over $8.5 million as of October 14. That is an increase of roughly $6.5 million over the past month alone. The committee’s spending has jumped 750% since the previous filing deadline, soaring from around $800,000 to $6.8 million. If you look closely at the donor list, you see the fingerprints of major national interests and local philanthropy. The National Education Association, the country’s largest labor union, has contributed roughly $6 million to the committee. Its state-level chapter, the Colorado Education Association, added just under $35,000, alongside contributions from local chapters.

But the most intriguing figure in the ledger is Gary Advocacy LLC, a Denver-based entity that has contributed $1 million. This LLC is an arm of Gary Community Ventures, a philanthropic organization founded by independent oil producer Sam Gary and his wife Nancy. The group does not disclose its donors, a hallmark of the “dark money” groups that have flooded into this fight. Their presence alongside traditional political action committees and nonprofits like The American Federation of Teachers and The Fairness Project creates a complex funding web. There is a warmth to the rhetoric on both sides — talk of “kids” and “families” — but the cold reality is that millions in anonymous capital are shaping the message you’ll see on your front porch.

For folks around here, the stakes feel personal. This isn’t just a Washington D.C. issue; it’s about whether your neighbor gets their refund check or whether that money goes into a classroom in Glenwood Springs. The Aspen Times reported on the surge, noting that while funds have come from typical donors like residents and nonprofits, the anonymity of groups like Gary Advocacy LLC leaves a gap in accountability. You can feel it in the volume of mailers and radio spots, a sudden saturation that feels less like public discourse and more like a commercial break.

The measure will ultimately be decided by the voters, but the machinery behind it is already in full motion. As the days shorten and the temperature drops, the pressure on local officials to take a public stance intensifies. They are not saying much about who is paying for their endorsements, preferring to let the dollars speak for themselves. The silence from some local leaders is its own kind of statement, a hesitation that lingers in the air like the last breath of summer.

The ballot measure sits at the intersection of fiscal conservatism and educational necessity, a tightrope walk that few can comfortably maintain. As the election approaches, the noise will only get louder, a cacophony of promises and warnings that will likely drown out the quieter voices in the community. The final tally won’t be known for weeks, but the financial momentum is already set. You can feel it in the sudden density of political signage on Route 82, a visual clutter that mirrors the complexity of the choice ahead. The wind picks up again, carrying the scent of dry pine and diesel exhaust, a reminder that while the money is flowing in from distant boardrooms, it’s us who will have to live with the consequences.