INDIANAPOLIS — Most of the red-state Democratic senators have larger-than-life personalities and storied political lineages that have allowed them to succeed despite their party label, from a blunt-talking Montana farmer to a cunning former prosecutor from Missouri.

Then there’s Joe Donnelly.


Privately referred to by some colleagues as the “accidental senator” because of his good fortune in drawing a deeply flawed GOP opponent in 2012, the first-term Indiana senator's presence is often barely noticed in the Capitol. His heads-down style distinguishes him among a quintet of centrist Democrats scrapping to survive this fall.

Donnelly rarely gives news conferences and stays away from cable news. For years, he assiduously avoided reporters who blanket the Capitol hallways. Now, the burly 62-year-old is running for reelection like a city council candidate, highlighting small-bore accomplishments and projecting an agreeable demeanor that contrasts sharply with what comes out of the other end of Pennsylvania Avenue most days.

It's a risky strategy to break through in this political environment, but it's what Donnelly is comfortable with. He believes his conservative state is looking for someone who’s willing to occasionally tell President Donald Trump no, but otherwise keeps his mouth shut in D.C. and diligently sticks to the basics.

“I can’t be somebody else,” Donnelly said during an interview at an Au Bon Pain that had to be hastily rescheduled in order to shed a Republican tracker. Indiana “leans Republican,” he added. “I’m not naive about that. But it’s also a state that’s really common sense, that respects hard work, that wants normal. And that’s where we are.”

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Donnelly acknowledges he’s different than Sen. Joe Manchin of West Virginia, a former governor who can’t help but weigh in on Washington's drama of the moment, or Sen. Heidi Heitkamp of North Dakota, who is closer to the Trump administration than some Republicans. Of the five Democrats hailing from states Trump won overwhelmingly in 2016, Donnelly is the only one who hasn’t won multiple statewide elections.

“Statewide, I’m playing a little catch-up [with] those guys, you know what I mean. And so I work at it every single day,” he said.

Yet Donnelly’s understated presence is also his biggest vulnerability, according to Republicans working to beat him. Trump crushed Hillary Clinton here, and a straight party-line vote would mean that Donnelly loses and costs Democrats a key foothold in the Midwest, perhaps for decades given the state’s rightward drift.

What’s more, Donnelly’s approval numbers are middling and his race against Republican businessman Mike Braun — who impressively dispatched two seasoned House members in the Republican primary — is essentially tied, according to people in both parties. After Richard Mourdock collapsed in 2012 for calling rape-induced pregnancies "something God intended," Braun poses danger to Donnelly because he's a "generic white guy who isn't going to talk about rape," said one Democrat working on Senate races.

In an interview at a field office in northern Indiana, Braun expressed guarded admiration for Manchin, calling the Democrat a formidable political figure. Donnelly, by contrast, “is not what I’d call a leader,” Braun said.

"Standard career politician," he scoffed.

Donnelly looks and acts more like a guy who might change your oil than a senator. He seems uncomfortable addressing a news conference in his politician suit garb, but more relaxed slapping backs at the Workingman's Friend, a legendary blue-collar burger bar.

Sen. Joe Donnelly (D-Ind.) rubs elbows with diners at the Workingman’s Friend, a famous cash-only diner on the west side of Indianapolis. | Burgess Everett/POLITICO

Donnelly, who earned undergraduate and law degrees from Notre Dame, took several stabs at elected office before winning a House seat in 2006. Since then, he's distinguished himself mostly by avoiding controversy.

The Republican strategy to take down Donnelly this year is straightforward: Tie him to Senate Minority Leader Chuck Schumer and cast him as a holdover, Obama-era Democrat. The state swung sharply Republican since President Barack Obama won Indiana in 2008.

Still, Donnelly kept his House seat in the tea party wave election of 2010, then won the Senate race two years later. He’s used to being underestimated.

"They said I was going to lose every time I ran," Donnelly said.

Sen. Cory Gardner (R-Colo.), chairman of the Senate GOP’s campaign arm, was almost apologetic when discussing Donnelly’s plight. In Indiana, he said, “no matter who it is, they’re going to struggle.” Then he pointed to former Sen. Evan Bayh (D-Ind.), who was crushed in his 2016 comeback bid.

Republicans, however, had a raft of opposition research on Bayh. Donnelly is comparatively squeaky clean. He has a $5 million cash advantage over Braun, who threw millions of his own money into the primary campaign, and the Schumer-aligned Senate Majority PAC has poured nearly $7 million into the race already, giving Donnelly a major structural advantage.

Asked by GOP activists in Mishawaka whether he would be able to run enough ads to tell his story, Braun bemoaned his slim war chest. He estimated he spends “about 80 percent of my time trying to put my resources together.”

Republican Senate nominee Mike Braun speaks to GOP activists in Mishawaka, Indiana, about his run against Democratic Sen. Joe Donnelly. | Burgess Everett/POLITICO

The biggest GOP strike against Donnelly, other than his voting record of supporting Obamacare and opposing tax reform, is his decision to invest in his brother’s company, which sought to create jobs in Mexico rather than the United States. Democrats say it's equally damning that Braun’s company uses goods produced in China, but Republicans believe the “Mexico Joe” campaign resonates.

Standing in a muddy puddle and donning a short-sleeved shirt, Donnelly greeted plant workers at an industrial supply company at the crack of dawn in Indianapolis. He wolfed down half a breakfast sandwich, offered the half-eaten meal to his staffers (who politely declined), then shook hands and exchanged pleasantries with employees.

Except for one man who muttered “Mexico Joe” and vowed to vote for Braun.

Donnelly insisted it didn't hurt to hear a blue-collar worker repeat that line: “No. Because PolitiFact said, ‘Hey, mostly false.’ And it is.” The claim is that Donnelly helped outsource jobs, which the fact-checking website said has not been proved.

Still, the attack stings, since Donnelly is portraying himself as a friend of the working class. Chuck Jones, a former union leader who battled with Trump in 2016, recounted Donnelly's push to delay plant layoffs a few years ago so employees wouldn’t lose their jobs at Christmas.

“He got it done and he didn’t get the fanfare. But people benefit. He does a lot of things people don’t really realize,” Jones said in between cigarettes. “He’s a low-key guy."

Defending himself against Braun’s outsider campaign is only one of Donnelly’s challenges. The senator walks a difficult line as an anti-abortion, moderate Democrat amid new energy on the party's left. He supports more border wall funding for Trump, is open to backing Brett Kavanaugh’s Supreme Court nomination and supported a bank deregulation law.

“He’s positioned himself as an acceptable Democrat to the right-leaning people in Indiana,” said David McIntosh, a former GOP congressman from Indiana who now heads the conservative Club for Growth. “But in the end, he’s a vote for Schumer.”

Donnelly is promoting his support for Obamacare's protections for people with pre-existing conditions, which Braun also backs. The Republican, however, has also endorsed a Republican lawsuit that would rescind the health care law along with that popular provision.

Social conservatives won’t get behind Donnelly because he voted for Obamacare and Planned Parenthood funding, said Sue Swayze Liebel, who chairs the state chapter of Susan B. Anthony List, a group that opposes abortion rights. And progressives say Donnelly will hurt his chances by voting for Kavanaugh.

“People were very disappointed in his vote for [Neil] Gorsuch,” said Lisa Dullum, president of the Greater Lafayette chapter of Indivisible, the Trump opposition group. “It’s hard to get people excited to go knock on doors.”

Finally, Donnelly’s getting flak from Trump, who calls him “sleepin' Joe.”

Donnelly notes Sen. Bob Casey (D-Pa.), who also happens to be a low-key guy, drew the same putdown.

"When he’s in the middle of a rally and he hasn't thought of a nickname yet, I think that may be the default," Donnelly said.

Yet it jibes with Republicans' argument that Donnelly, in essence, has fallen asleep on the job. The GOP highlights that Donnelly hasn’t been the primary sponsor of any bills that have been signed into law. Donnelly has collaborated with Republicans on dozens of bipartisan laws, inserted portions of his legislation in larger bills and argues it's not important who gets the credit for being the lead sponsor of a new law.

At the same time, Trump praised the Democrat for his work on a health care bill, which the senator later turned into a campaign ad .

“They try to zing you on that,” Donnelly said of scorecards that show him lagging in productivity. “Things get done when you try to work with others.”

“Joe is one of those senators who is in the middle,” added Sen. Susan Collins (R-Maine). "Without endorsing him, I believe we would benefit as an institution and as a country if we had more moderates.”

Donnelly argues he gets results that get lost under the radar, too. When the Senate Appropriations Committee was trying to steer manufacturing of military vehicles away from Indiana, Donnelly took it to Sen. Dick Durbin of Illinois, the Democratic whip and a top appropriator. The provisions were stripped out.

“Joe speaks up a bit more than people give him credit for,” Manchin said. Reporters “might see that nice and easy demeanor,” he added, but senators see something different.

The senator's lack of media sizzle aligns with the rest of his personality. But Donnelly said he's a guy who can literally keep the lights on.

A few years ago, Bruno Cataldo, a 90-something pizzeria owner in South Bend, approached the senator and pointed out that the street light outside his shop was broken: “I need it fixed.”

Donnelly got the light repaired and "Bruno was happy," Donnelly recalled. There’s no way Donnelly can do the same for the 6.6 million Hoosiers who have similar problems, but he said the tale is instructive of what Hoosiers want from their senator. No flash, just results.

“That’s what they expect,” Donnelly said.