Pence was a climate change denier who saw behind the concerns raised by scientists a secret effort to increase government control over people’s lives for some unstated diabolical purpose. In his campaign, he refuted the vast amounts of science done on the topic with the claim that the earth was growing cooler and not warmer, as the widely accepted data indicated. He refused to acknowledge that human activity created much of the increase in greenhouse gases in the atmosphere. Instead, he blamed “underwater geological displacements” as well as volcanoes and hurricanes. In Indiana, one of his chief allies in this argument was a retired chemist named Jay Wile, who also contested evolution and published books for homeschooled children. Wile promoted himself as a former atheist who became an evangelical Christian. After Wile backed Pence’s 2000 campaign, J. C. Randolph, an Indiana University expert in the field, described the candidate’s position as an example of antiscience paranoia. When contacted by Muncie’s Star Press, a playful Randolph said, “I’m sure the black helicopter folks view this as a United Nations attempt to take over with a new world order.”9
Many on the Christian Right cited their faith in God as the basis for denying climate science, arguing that the deity gave man dominion over the earth and should be trusted to deal with the consequences. As with so many issues, the extreme believers sometimes brought the Antichrist of Bible prophecy into the equation. Historically, the Antichrist has been regarded as a demon, a person, or an institution. Luther considered the Roman Catholic Church an Antichrist. One patriarch of Moscow said Peter the Great was the Antichrist. In this case, some evangelists said the Antichrist existed in those who would supposedly exploit public concern over the issue of climate change to impose their will on the people of the earth.
Pence didn’t talk openly about the Antichrist, but he could be extreme in his opposition to science. In the 2000 campaign, Mike Pence’s antiscientism went a step further, with the upside-down-and-backward declaration that “despite the hysteria from the political class and media, smoking doesn’t kill.” For proof, Pence pointed to the fact that the vast majority of smokers do not contract lung cancer, and two-thirds die of something other than smoking-related disease. In fact, the connection between smoking and deadly disease was incontestable. In 1965, the government placed health warnings on all cigarette packages, and in 1982, the Reagan administration’s surgeon general said that secondhand smoke likely caused cancer in nonsmokers.10 The Centers for Disease Control estimates that 80 to 90 percent of lung cancer cases are related to smoking.
The occasion for Pence’s statement was Washington’s consideration of an agreement to settle litigation against tobacco companies that had hidden from consumers and regulators evidence that the nicotine in their products is addictive. (This explained why it is so difficult for people to stop smoking once they start.) The legal action was undertaken by officials in forty states who were trying to recover the cost of health care provided to people who had been injured by tobacco. Pence saw in these efforts a government attempting “to protect us from our own stubborn wills” and he begged voters to ask which was the greater threat, “secondhand smoke or backhanded big government disguised in do-gooder health care rhetoric.”
That statement gave Pence’s opponent an easy topic for the general election. Reporters examined campaign finance reports and found that Pence had received $13,000 from cigarette-makers Brown & Williamson, Philip Morris, R. J. Reynolds, and US Tobacco. Overlooked was another reason to support big tobacco: through Kiel Brothers, the Pence clan still co-owned hundreds of convenience stores, including many named Tobacco Road, where cigarettes, cigars, snuff, and chewing tobacco were big revenue producers. The company was under pressure from state officials for TV advertisements that relied on kittens and sly language obviously crafted to get around a law that had banned advertising of tobacco on TV since 1971.
“We can’t talk about some of the things we sell at Tobacco Road,” intoned an announcer at the start of one TV spot.
On the screen flashed videos of a monster, a lounge singer, and playful kittens.
“Tobacco Road,” the announcer continued. “Gas and cheap prices on, well, you know.”
Officials in Indiana, where tobacco-related illnesses soaked up millions in tax dollars devoted to health care and drove up insurance premiums, complained about the ads to federal authorities who were charged with enforcing the law. A news story about the ad in the Pence hometown newspaper, The Republic, said Gregory Pence, the president of Kiel Brothers, was not available for comment. It did not report that he was the brother of Mike Pence, the local Republican candidate for Congress.11
Democrat Bob Rock tried to capitalize on the tobacco issue but was unable to drive a wedge between Pence and his supporters. At a debate in Columbus, Pence said his remarks were taken out of context, because his main argument was about the role of “government protecting me from myself.” But Pence then repeated the essential falsehood: he claimed there is no “scientific causal link” between lung cancer and smoking. The U.S. National Institutes of Health had determined that even secondhand exposure to smoke could cause cancer. Pence had no basis for what he said.12
The smoking/cancer issue didn’t stick, nor did any of the other criticisms Rock offered. A Marine Corps veteran, Rock chided Pence for failing to serve in the military. That didn’t catch on. Meanwhile, a successful Democrat in Indiana couldn’t sound like a liberal. Knowing he couldn’t win if he seemed very liberal, Rock made sure voters knew that he agreed with Pence’s stance against abortion, opposed gun regulations, and supported tax cuts and using the Clinton administration’s budget surplus to cut the federal deficit. With few real differences between them, the two candidates decided to make an issue out of the national leaders of the Republican and Democratic parties. Pence complained that Rock would be led around Washington by the likes of his party’s congressional leader, Representative Dick Gephardt of Missouri. Rock argued that Pence would follow departing representative David McIntosh’s lead, and he thought McIntosh had done poorly.
Between Rock and Pence, the election seemed to be a contest over who could be more friendly and affable. The only spice in the race came from the entry of Bill Frazier, populist independent, who made his opposition to NAFTA, which he said hurt workers, almost his only issue. A farmer and businessman, Frazier spent $300,000 of his own money on anti-NAFTA TV advertisements. Remarkably, this was almost as much as Bob Rock raised and spent as a candidate with the backing of one of the two major parties. This was, perhaps, a sign of what all the experts assumed about the election, which was that Rock’s inexperience and mild manner would put him at a disadvantage against any regular Republican and at extreme disadvantage against a well-spoken and telegenic man like Pence.
With all that he had going for him, Pence was recognized as a potential star in the Republican universe, a fact that was affirmed when he was given a chance to stand on the big stage at the 2000 presidential nominating convention in Philadelphia, where George Bush and his running mate, Dick Cheney, would be acclaimed. The occasion moved him to wear a red-white-and-blue-striped tie with a sober blue suit.
Given just a minute to speak on the first day of the four-day gathering, Pence suffered the bad luck of being introduced as someone else—namely, John Kline, a candidate for Congress from Minnesota. As the Minnesota delegation cheered and waved red signs with Kline’s name written in big white letters, Pence strode to the podium, gripped it with both hands, and flashed a smile.
“With apologies to John Kline,” he said, “I’m Mike Pence, and I’m running for Congress from the great state of Indiana.”
Loud, resonant, and steady, Pence’s voice sounded with the announcer’s quality that he had perfected during his years on the air. The words “Mike” and “Pence” rang with special force and clarity. Combined with his looks, the delivery evoked a trusted local TV news anchor or perhaps the emerging breed of televangelists who were handsome enough to be soap opera stars and dressed so well they would fit
in on Wall Street. Pence’s message was little more than generalities, which meant that it didn’t get in the way of the messenger. He said:
Our nation is in need of renewal as never before. We must renew the American dream, and I believe we can.
We can renew the American dream by lifting the burden of taxes on families, small businesses, and family farms so they can once again dream and build a better life for their children and their grandchildren.
We can renew the American dream by rebuilding the military after years of reckless cutbacks, rekindling the fires of men, matériel, and morale that warm the warriors who stand on liberty’s ramparts protecting our families.
Why am I running for Congress?
To renew the dream of a strong and good America.
I’m from Indiana, and I’m Mike Pence.
The brief speech moved just a few people to applaud but one could imagine that the recording would be valuable to the Pence campaign. Others with minor roles at the convention attracted much more attention than Pence. Former pro football quarterback Steve Young and pro wrestler Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson won over the sports fans. Hollywood actress Bo Derek captured those who were looking for glamour. She got lots of applause and prime-time TV coverage when she appeared to introduce Abel Maldonado, an assemblyman from California. (In 2000, the GOP was making an effort to appeal to Hispanic voters, and Maldonado delivered his entire address in Spanish.)
Although Pence couldn’t match the star power displayed by the celebrities, his poise reassured donors like the Club for Growth group that he was an able competitor. Pence’s talent was also recognized by mainstream GOP leaders like Speaker of the House Dennis Hastert, which meant he drew frequent visits from top party officials, including majority leader Dick Armey and Republican whip Tom DeLay. Armey, a member of Congress from Texas, was especially enthusiastic about visiting Indiana to attend rallies and boost Pence.
A pugnacious campaigner and rigid conservative, Armey was famously bigoted about gay people. In 1995, he gained national attention by calling Massachusetts Representative Barney Frank “Barney Fag.” He was such a hawk where Israel was concerned that he wanted all Palestinians driven out of the territories that were seized to create the Israeli state. His economic priorities included privatization of Social Security. These kinds of ideas earned him a spot among what political columnist Dave Rossie termed “the party’s Talibans,” who were mostly kept out of sight at the convention by Republican leaders who wanted to appeal to a more moderate national electorate.
After the big gathering in Philadelphia, Armey took to the road to boost candidates in districts where his views were less of a liability. When Armey visited Indiana just after the national convention, he raised a quick $10,000 at a gathering of donors and spoke at a rally where a band played “Yellow Rose of Texas” and the decorations leaned heavily toward red, white, and blue balloons. His remarks amounted to generic praise for Pence and criticism of Democrats. When the candidate spoke, he all but adopted Armey as a mentor. “Other than David McIntosh, there is not a member of Congress I admire more and want to emulate more than Dick Armey,” said Pence.
* * *
Pence wouldn’t get much chance to learn from the Texas congressman, as Armey would announce his retirement in 2002 and enter the world of consulting and organizing for big-money donors. And soon, DeLay and Hastert would each be disgraced by scandal. Hastert would confess to violating banking laws to cover up payments made to buy the silence of boys he had sexually abused when he was their school wrestling coach. DeLay would leave politics amid allegations of financial wrongdoing that were eventually rejected in the courts. However, in the moment, these men were political celebrities who could entice donors to write checks, which DeLay did, and draw crowds to rallies, which Hastert did. In September, Hastert campaigned with Pence at events where he touted GOP efforts to improve Medicare coverage for the poor and the elderly. Hastert also defended Republican support for trade agreements like NAFTA and expanded trade with China. In the future, these positions would be abandoned by many in the party, including Pence, but at the time, he and Hastert agreed on all of them.
By Election Day, Pence was so well positioned that the only matter to be resolved would be the size of his victory. In fact he was so confident that he spent the day with with gubernatorial candidate David McIntosh, doing what he could to help him against an incumbent governor, Frank O’Bannon, whose folksy touch made him an ideal Democrat for Indiana. (McIntosh would be defeated.) A victorious Pence ended the day with campaign aides, volunteers, and supporters who filled a ballroom at the Ramada Inn in Columbus. Spotting a TV camera crew setting up, he shouted to anyone who listened, “Will everybody move behind Mike so it looks like there is a crowd of adoring people behind him? The five dollars will be handed out later.” When he was declared the winner by a margin of 12 percent, he took a look at the stage, which was so crowded some standees almost fell off, and quipped that he was happy to be surrounded by family. “Of course, this is actually just my immediate family.”
When he went to Washington in late 2000 for some orientation sessions, Pence told reporters that the House of Representatives was a place “I never thought I would be except as a tourist.” He said that he was no longer “enamored of the trappings of power” as he had been in 1988 and 1990. He had Karen worried about how Washington would affect their family life, and, as he explained, they saw in the examples set by others that it is possible “to keep families strong and marriages strong.”
Faced with the prospect of actually filling a job he had first sought fourteen years earlier, Pence persuaded his campaign guru, Bill Smith, to serve as chief of staff. Smith would stay in the job for twelve years. He joked that after he won the office, “I didn’t know what to worry about.”
Pence’s profession of humility reflected the attitude that won him praise during the campaign. (One newspaper described him as a “model citizen” in the race.) It was a smart pose for an incoming freshman, and others adopted it. However, every congressional class includes some freshmen who eventually become powerful through incumbency, committee assignments, leadership posts, and their work with their peers. In Pence’s class, the Republicans included fellow Club for Growth favorites Jeff Flake and Todd Aikin and those who followed more ordinary paths, such as Darrell Issa of California and Mark Kirk of Illinois. Together on the day their class photo was taken on the steps of the Capitol, their paths would diverge almost immediately and lead in directions that not one of them could imagine.13
6
THE FROZEN MAN
Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit. Rather, in humility value others above ourselves.
—Philippians 2:3
Bright eyes sparkling, his unlined face framed by neatly clipped white hair, Mike Pence bubbled over with charm and enthusiasm as he led the summer interns from his office on a tour of the United States Capitol. Although he could be icy when it came to ideology and his moral focus, Pence’s personality set point was toasty warm. Interns, who gave lots of Capitol tours themselves, were expected to be warm and enthusiastic too.
When the tour reached the West Front of the Capitol, where a special pole is used to run American flags up and down so they can be given away as souvenirs, Pence reminded his charges that this was also where presidents and vice presidents took the oath of office. Anyone standing on the white marble expanse of the Capitol, where daylight bounces off the stone and the great expanse of the Mall stretches toward the Washington Monument, would feel the history and majesty.
Although every inauguration in the interns’ memories had occurred at the West Front, it wasn’t always so. Prior to Ronald Reagan, the ceremonies had been held on the east side of the building, which faces the Supreme Court and the Library of Congress. It was there, in 1841, that William Henry Harrison gave the longest inaugural address ever and caught the cold that developed into pneumonia, which killed him. Though born in Virginia, Harrison had become famous as commande
r of a force that defeated Tecumseh in Tippecanoe County, Indiana. His running mate was John Tyler, hence the famous slogan and campaign song “Tippecanoe and Tyler Too.”
Indiana’s only native-born president, Harrison’s grandson Benjamin also took the oath on the east side of the Capitol, in 1889. Though historians judge him to have been, at best, a middling president, Benjamin Harrison did live to finish his first term and to be defeated when he sought reelection. He is nevertheless beloved in his home state, where his likeness stands near the Indianapolis War Memorial, his home is a national landmark, and a state park bears his name. Indiana’s schoolchildren, including those who became interns at Pence’s office, are taught his biography.
It’s possible that Pence had both Harrisons in mind when he explained to the interns that were he to be elected president, he would prefer to be sworn in at the Capitol’s East Front. One intern would recall that he said it was all about the light. In January, the noontime sunlight on the west-facing side of the building was just too bright, explained Pence. The glare forced presidents to squint and made every line and wrinkle in every face look more pronounced. On the east side, the indirect rays made everyone look better. And no squinting.
The Shadow President Page 12