ONE WEDNESDAY afternoon in mid-August, Govs. Sam Brownback of Kansas and Chris Christie of New Jersey stopped for a photo op—and $54 worth of pork ribs and sausages—at Oklahoma Joe's, a gas station barbecue joint on the outer fringe of Kansas City. Along with hickory smoke and diesel fumes, there was a mild aroma of desperation in the air. Brownback's approval ratings hovered in the mid-30s, and one recent poll had his Democratic opponent, state House Minority Leader Paul Davis, beating him by 10 points. Now Christie, the chair of the Republican Governors Association, had parachuted in to lend some star power as Brownback made a fundraising swing through the wealthy suburbs outside of Kansas City. A day earlier, the RGA had announced a $600,000 ad buy in support of Brownback. "We believe in Sam," Christie assured the scrum of reporters who'd accompanied the governors to Oklahoma Joe's.
That the RGA had been forced to mobilize reinforcements in Kansas spoke to just how imperiled Brownback had become. After representing Kansas for nearly two decades in Congress, he had won the governorship in 2010 by a 30-point margin. Once in office, Brownback wasted no time implementing a radical agenda that blended his trademark social conservatism with the libertarian-tinged economic agenda favored by one of his most famous constituents, Charles Koch, whose family company is headquartered in Wichita and employs more than 3,500 people in the state. Other GOP governors elected in the tea party wave, such as Wisconsin's Scott Walker, garnered more ink for their brash policy maneuvers, but in many ways Brownback had presided over the most sweeping transformation.
Early in his tenure, he said he wanted to turn Kansas into a "real, live experiment" for right-wing policies. In some cases relying on proposals promoted by the Kansas Policy Institute—a conservative think tank that belongs to the Koch-backed State Policy Network and is chaired by a former top aide to Charles Koch—Brownback led the charge to privatize Medicaid, curb the power of teachers' unions, and cull thousands from the welfare rolls.
But his boldest move was a massive income tax cut. Brownback flew in Reagan tax cut guru Arthur Laffer to help sell the plan to lawmakers, with the state paying the father of supply-side economics $75,000 for three days of work. Brownback and his legislative allies ultimately wiped out the top rate of 6.45 percent, slashed the middle rate from 6.25 to 4.9 percent, and dropped the bottom tier from 3.5 to 3 percent. A subsequent bill set in motion future cuts, with the top rate declining to 3.9 percent by 2018 and falling incrementally from there. Brownback's tax plan also absolved nearly 200,000 small business owners of their state income tax burdens. Among the "small" businesses that qualified were more than 20 Koch Industries LLCs. "Without question they're the biggest beneficiaries of the tax cuts," says University of Kansas political scientist Burdett Loomis.
Laffer told me that "what Sam Brownback has done is and will be extraordinarily beneficial for the state of Kansas," but many Kansans beg to differ. Brownback had said that his tax cut plan would provide "a shot of adrenaline into the heart of the Kansas economy." Instead, the state has gone into cardiac arrest. "The revenue projections were just horrendous once the tax cuts were put into place," Loomis says. The state's $700 million budget surplus is projected to dwindle into a $238 million deficit. Standard & Poor's and Moody's downgraded the state's bond rating earlier this year as a result. "The state's on a crisis course," says H. Edward Flentje, a professor emeritus of political science at Wichita State University who served alongside Brownback in the cabinet of Kansas Gov. Mike Hayden in the 1980s. "He has literally put us in a ditch."
Conservatives once celebrated Brownback's grand tax experiment as a prototype worthy of replication in other states and lauded Brownback himself as a model conservative reformer ("phenomenal," Grover Norquist has said). "My focus," Brownback said in one 2013 interview, "is to create a red-state model that allows the Republican ticket to say, 'See, we've got a different way, and it works.'" By this fall it was hard to imagine anyone touting the Brownback model, especially with the Kansas governor at risk of going down in defeat—in the Koch brothers' backyard, no less—and dragging the entire state ticket down with him. The Wall Street Journal recently dubbed Brownback's approach "more of a warning than a beacon."
NOT LONG AFTER taking office in 2011, Brownback called a meeting with members of the state Senate's Republican caucus, whose tone was historically set by a core group of moderates. After a friendly introduction over tea and cookies on the veranda of the Capitol, the governor made clear that he would brook no dissent. "He said, 'I'll be glad to campaign for you coming up, but I want all of my guns pointed in the same direction,' meaning there's no room for difference of opinion," recalls former GOP state Sen. Jean Schodorf, who was present that day. "From there on it was chilling."