Adam Wren, a contributing editor at Indianapolis Monthly, writes about Indiana politics.

With the black marble of the Indiana House of Representatives behind him, Gov. Mike Pence in January trumpeted a laundry list of accomplishments achieved in the first half of his first term: Two balanced budgets. A falling unemployment rate. More than 100,000 new jobs created. It seemed the predicate for a potential 2016 run.

Basking in the glow of the moment, Pence dropped his customary aw-shucks Hoosier persona and let himself boast: “Tonight, there are 49 other governors across this country who wish they could be me!”


Maybe then. Not anymore.

Not three short months later, amid the biggest crisis of his political life, that line rings comical.

At least three of those 49 governors Pence taunted—from Connecticut, New York, Washington and counting—have banned nonessential government travel from their states to Indiana in just the six days since Pence signed Senate Bill 101, the controversial Religious Freedom Restoration Act, in a behind-closed-doors ceremony March 26. Meanwhile, another of the 49, Arkansas Republican Asa Hutchinson, is expected to sign a similar religious freedom bill on Wednesday—joining Pence in offering the opening salvo in a new front of the culture wars.

But Pence is in trouble, because there is already collateral damage.

At least 10 national conventions are threatening to pull out of commitments to meeting in Indianapolis, according to city tourism officials, who have spent late nights talking down convention organizers in an attempt to keep a grip on the industry that brings in $4.4 billion annually and supports 75,000 jobs. Comedian Nick Offerman and indie band Wilco scuttled upcoming engagements here. Even NASCAR, not known for leftie or social-justice bona fides, expressed disappointment in the legislation.

And just days before the NCAA Final Four Championship is set to tip off, a different kind of March Madness has settled over the city. NCAA President Mark Emmert expressed doubts about maintaining its Indianapolis headquarters—a short walk from the Statehouse.

In a hastily called news conference on Tuesday, Pence—usually keen on playing the happy warrior in public—looked wan and defeated, though his hair was still shaped into its perfect and immoveable silver part. At some turns, in a dulcet tone, Pence employed a humble tack, suggesting the law needed “a fix” and admitting that his defensive performance in a Sunday appearance with George Stephanopoulos on ABC’s “This Week” likely made things worse (“I could have handled that better,” Pence told reporters). At others, he defended the religious freedom bill, criticizing press coverage of it as “reckless” and “sloppy,” and said he harbored no regrets in signing it.

“It’s been a tough week here in the Hoosier State, but we’re going to move forward,” Pence assured state and national media who had gathered at the Indiana State Library, an unconventional choice for a news conference but a sop to the national interest in the roiling imbroglio. Pence’s regular briefing area wasn’t large enough to accommodate reporters who had descended on the city. (Even Olympic diver Greg Louganis, in town to promote a new book with the mother of Ryan White, the Kokomo teen who died of AIDS 25 years ago this month, surfaced at the presser, ambling around with his black and white Jack Russell terrier, Dobby.)

The optics of the moment—a governor once mentioned as a potential 2016er now trying to sort through political wreckage amid dusty tomes in the building’s History Reference room—seemed to suggest one potential outcome of Pence’s rightward lurch: Were Pence’s presidential chances history now, too?

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Back in the chamber on that January evening, Pence found himself experiencing more heady days. He had been hailed as a favorite of the billionaire Koch brothers and had just passed up a chance to chair the Republican Governors Association, saying his focus was on "serving the people of Indiana and working with legislators in our state to ensure a successful 2015 session of the Indiana General Assembly.” Still, members of his inner circle pitched him as a 2016 dark horse, a potential unity candidate in a coming fractious primary fight.

Since Pence resigned as chairman of the House Republican Conference in November 2010 to run for governor, conventional wisdom held that he would bide his time in Indianapolis, padding his résumé with executive experience before mounting a presidential bid. After all, no one gets elected president from the House—American voters prefer governors, chief executives who have actually governed.

The working theory of a Pence bid, according to his allies, such as Kellyanne Conway, his longtime pollster, was somewhat Rube Goldbergian but plausible: If establishment and movement conservatives deadlocked in a primary, Pence could emerge as the consensus candidate.

But when Pence signed the religious freedom bill into law last Thursday, that theory began to crumble.

On Friday afternoon, a delegation of Indiana business leaders convened in a closed-door session with Pence, including Republican Mayor Greg Ballard—an otherwise even-keeled mayor who passionately opposed the religious freedom law this week—a representative of Visit Indy, the city’s tourism arm, and the city’s Chamber of Commerce. It was a candid confab, as the delegation laid out the economic impact of Pence’s decision to sign the bill.

The meeting’s tone was “cordial but concerned,” said Chris Gahl, vice president of Visit Indy. Pence listened. In a decreasingly barn-red state whose capital city is enjoying a boom of downtown development and a cultural renaissance, this week’s controversy has proved a buzz kill for a city that has boosters drunk with civic optimism. “The bill has impeded our efforts,” says Gahl, who cited 2,500 press clips questioning Indy’s hospitality in recent days as a huge public-relations hole to dig out from. Among the biggest potential losses: Gen Con, the world’s biggest gaming convention, which would generate about $56 million for the city. Pence personally called the convention leaders at their Seattle headquarters this week, urging them to stay.

Even the traditionally conservative business community, both local and national, seems to be quickly turning its back on Pence—a fact that has left Pence backpedaling in surprise. On Saturday, Pence called The Indianapolis Star’s Tim Swarens, who reported that Pence was working on a legislative fix. Earlier that day, Pence ally and donor Bill Oesterle, the Republican CEO of Angie’s List and former Gov. Mitch Daniels’ one-time campaign manager, canceled plans to add up to 1,000 jobs and expand its headquarters in Indianapolis, on account of the religious freedom bill. “It passed and [was] signed so quickly by the governor, we suspect the motives behind it,” Oesterle said in a media availability on Saturday. He added: “We believe that the impact of that bill on our ability to hire—continue to build a high-growth technology company—that they are material, and that they are inconsistent with the state’s activity to encourage growth.”

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Meanwhile, the CEOs of national brands such as Apple and Nike, alongside nine Indiana-based firms—from Angie’s List to Salesforce Marketing Cloud—said they were dismayed by the religious freedom law. On Twitter, Oesterle suggested to one follower that he had buyer’s remorse for underwriting Pence’s campaign to the tune of $150,000. (It appears that Arkansas’ Hutchinson will face his own backlash—Wal-Mart has urged him to veto the state's religious freedom law, as have the Little Rock Chamber of Commerce and the Little Rock convention authority.)

Privately, Pence allies are astounded at the reaction from the business community. After all, they argue, the governor cut their taxes early in his first session as governor.

Last November, Pence keynoted the Innovation Summit at the JW Marriott in downtown Indianapolis, a fancy, high-end business gathering of CEOs and business leaders sponsored by Forbes Media. Steve Forbes, a former presidential candidate himself, compared Pence to Ronald Reagan, as Pence cozied up to Fortune 500 company leaders. Pence dodged whether he would run, telling Forbes just enough to stay relevant in the presidential sweepstakes: “To be mentioned for the highest office in the land is deeply humbling to me. I’ll try to stay focused on the futures of the people of this state, and my future will take care of itself.”

But Pence’s future no longer seems to be taking care of itself, at least not in the ways he hoped. Tom Lobianco, a reporter for The Indianapolis Star, broke news earlier this year that Pence had plans to start a state-run news service called Just IN. Pence quickly scuttled those plans after taking a drubbing in the local and national media and sidestepped the controversy by claiming he knew little about the plan. And the pair of controversies erupted just as Pence is set to announce whether he will add his name to the 2016 Republican presidential primary sweepstakes this month, after the legislature adjourns.

On Tuesday, a reporter asked Pence if he anticipated the political fallout of the new law, which is set to take effect July 1. “Heavens, no,” a befuddled Pence responded.

Conventional wisdom suggests that Pence is in a political free fall, after flubbing Sunday’s appearance and failing to outline a legislative fix. But GOP consultant Rick Wilson said that he already plans to use the ABC clip as a textbook example in his media training seminars for not accepting the premise of a hostile interview. “He was like a prize fighter in the peak of his form—really well-done, as efficient and cold-blooded as I’ve ever seen,” Wilson said.

Whether Pence is presidential timber might not matter: Pence has already instructed his closest advisers to prepare for a gubernatorial election campaign, and state law forbids him from running for both offices at the same time. And he has staffed up with hires from Indiana, not from Iowa or New Hampshire.

With strong approval ratings 14 months away from May 2016, it’s unlikely Pence—who until recently has been cast as a lock for reelection—will fancy a serious primary. No 2016ers have yet criticized his support for the law. And Pence could emerge from this crisis a conservative folk hero. Pence’s national political capital, Conway says, has generated supportive texts and calls from friends. “Part of why they’re supporting him is because of his own political capital,” Conway says.

Conway praises Pence’s performance at his news conference, saying it could galvanize conservatives around Pence. “Anybody who doubted that this man loves his day job as governor of Indiana should have that doubt put to rest after today’s press conference,” she explains. “He showed why even though he [might not be] running for president, everyone is begging him to run for president. He has the enviable combination of passion and focus and humility.” Conway, notably, says she has not conducted any recent polling for Pence, though she says they speak routinely.

But they also force him to walk a political tightrope. If he backtracks on the law, social conservatives could abandon him, says Bob Vander Plaats, the Christian conservative president of The Family Leader, the largest statewide family organization in Iowa. “Providing this type of leadership will only lift his standing in Iowa unless he caves to the political pressure of the day,” Vander Plaats says. “If he caves, then he probably should have never taken on the issue in the first place. I think he needs to double down.”

Wilson sees Pence’s crisis as a short-lived affair. “There will be shiny objects in the next few days that will ding this discussion.” But Pence has canceled a string of appearances, including one at Porter County’s Lincoln Day Dinner, set for April 9—suggesting that he himself believes the storm clouds may not soon pass. Legislative leaders admit they have no consensus for a fix in the offing.

Five Indianapolis mayors—including Republican mayors Greg Ballard, William Hudnut, Richard Lugar and Stephen Goldsmith—submitted a letter to The Indianapolis Star on Tuesday evening saying that the law “threatens to undo many of the efforts we have made, going back to 1967, to build an including, caring, and hospitable city.”

On Tuesday, Pence did not view such a dire state of affairs. “The name and reputation of the people of Indiana is strong and secure,” Pence said, closing out his news conference Tuesday. Afterward, state Senate Minority Leader Tim Lanane, a Democrat, shot back: “What we need is an Indiana Reputation Restoration Act.”

Pence has finally found his national moment. Just not the one he might have imagined on that day back in January.

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