Louisiana Politics Show a New Face

Since Reconstruction, Louisiana has sent an uninterrupted and unchallenged parade of white men to the governor’s mansion. Politics have degenerated into sport, played by the connected, observed by the dismayed, and an old adage says governors get two terms here -- one in office and one in prison.

This year, not one of the six leading candidates for governor is under threat of indictment. Audience members at debates have thanked them for being boring. They have spent the summer talking, with civility and sobriety, about the sour economy and what to do next. And analysts believe the two candidates most likely to survive Saturday’s crowded primary election and meet in a runoff are a dark-skinned son of Indian immigrants and a woman.

“It sends a signal,” said the latter, Democrat Kathleen Blanco, the state’s lieutenant governor since 1995. “People are tired of the politics of the past.”

Given that spectacle -- from David Duke, long a viable candidate here though he was once a Ku Klux Klan wizard, to Edwin W. Edwards, the former governor imprisoned last year for extortion -- the most remarkable tale is that of the immigrants’ son, Bobby Jindal.

Analysts who once dismissed his campaign as a longshot now believe the conservative Jindal is likely to earn a spot in the November runoff and a shot at becoming the nation’s first Indian American governor. If he wins, the nation will be introduced to a Republican face that some believe could become very prominent, particularly as the GOP expands efforts to be inclusive.

“People thought there was no way he could win. Not here,” said Wayne Parent, chairman of political science at Louisiana State University. “What he’s done so far has been amazing.”

There are two interpretations of Jindal’s success. Both have implications for Louisiana and, to some degree, for the South.

The first, which he prefers, is that race is irrelevant in today’s Louisiana, trumped by more pressing issues, such as poverty and poor health-care coverage. Under this theory, Louisiana is perfectly prepared to elect to the governor’s mansion a wonky, fast-talking, Ivy League-educated, 32-year-old wunderkind Indian American with no experience in office.

The second is that race remains an important determinant in Louisiana politics. African Americans represent 30% of the electorate, but many believe they are disenfranchised in Louisiana, where whites have long dominated the halls of power. Indeed, polls show African Americans virtually united in their opposition to GOP candidates, including Jindal. That means his support is coming from white social conservatives, which is no less surprising.

Sitting on donated, mismatched furniture in his campaign office this week, Jindal declined to declare victory, despite the fact that an aide has already rented a bus to take staffers to a victory party and has taped up a sign-up sheet for seats.

The office, a cottage with peach-painted walls, lies miles from the home Jindal shares with his wife and 1-year-old daughter and blocks from the Capitol. Volunteers were busy calling supporters. Beside them was a list of talking points: “Bobby was born in Louisiana.” “Bobby is a Christian.” “Bobby will support tax cuts.”

Louisiana has an unusual primary system. The top two vote-getters, regardless of party, face each other in a head-to-head race. With 17 candidates, the winners in this round will probably earn less than 25% of the vote apiece. Too much can happen in the final days, said Jindal, his thin fingers interwoven on his lap. But, he said, “we got into this race to win. And we have surpassed people’s expectations every single day.”

That’s been true for a long time.

Shortly before he was born, Jindal’s parents moved here from India so his mother could earn a degree in nuclear physics from Louisiana State University. His father is a civil engineer.

At age 4, about the time he learned to read, Piyush Jindal informed his teacher that he wanted to be called “Bobby,” the name of the youngest son on “The Brady Bunch.” His parents asked their son, not for the last time, if he was going through a phase.

“They asked me: ‘Is your name going to be Greg or Peter tomorrow?’ ” Jindal said.

At 18, when he converted from Hinduism to Catholicism, he used “Robert” as his baptismal name. Again, his parents wondered if it was a phase, but today Jindal calls the conversion a profound intellectual and spiritual experience.

He was attending Brown University at the time, and his prodigal path was becoming clear: While earning straight A’s, finishing a double-major of public policy and biology and graduating early, he founded a College Republicans chapter. After a stint as a Rhodes Scholar, he blitzed through a series of high-profile jobs, starting with an internship with U.S. Rep. Jim McCrery, a Shreveport Republican whom Jindal calls his political hero.

In 1996, Louisiana Gov. M.J. “Mike” Foster Jr., who cannot run this year because of term limits, named Jindal secretary of the state Department of Health and Hospitals. At 24, Jindal had stewardship of a $4-billion budget and 13,000 employees -- and a deficit of $400 million. He erased the deficit, though his fervor for budget cuts and smaller government, a recurring theme, raised concern in the health-care community.

Jindal served briefly as president of the 80,000-student University of Louisiana system and then was appointed an assistant secretary of the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services. He quit that job to move home to run for governor.

Because of his experience in bureaucracy, he sells himself as an insider, but because he has never held office he can also cast himself as an outsider, giving him populist appeal crucial in Louisiana politics.

Jindal says he will take steps to create jobs while reducing government waste, but in some circles he is remembered for the 1,000 jobs he cut while trimming the health-care budget.

He has shot to the top of the polls largely because of a clean image, often pitched as a contrast to the past. He doesn’t drink or swear, and his wedding invitation insisted on “no gifts” because some of his relatives are doctors -- and he was regulating doctors at the time.

More recently, Jindal has become a prodigious fund-raiser. Aides say he has collected $2.4 million and plans to raise $2 million more, making him one of the top fund-raisers in the race.

This week, he fended off questions about a fund-raiser held during a National Football League game -- and about his relationship with the New Orleans Saints’ owner, long accused of being cozy with officials -- largely by saying he doesn’t discuss fund-raising events.

Throughout his campaign, Jindal has remained focused on his base. He sent out literature saying the election is “important to President Bush,” though the president has not endorsed a candidate. He has reminded voters that he is opposed to abortion. He has belittled gun-control advocates and referred to the power structure as “The Liberals,” though liberalism is hardly a potent force here.

Jindal turned to talk radio in the early days of his campaign to espouse his conservative beliefs. When his face emerged later, his ethnicity was seen as an “exotic” attraction, said John Maginnis, a political writer and observer here.

“I don’t know that a 32-year-old white boy could have done this,” Maginnis said.

If he is to win a runoff against a Democrat, analysts say, Jindal will have to appeal to more moderate voters.

“If the Christian right is front and center, that hurts him,” said Susan Howell, political science professor at the University of New Orleans. “He has to drift back to the center.”

Jindal said he will not compromise his beliefs to win.

“We’re not going to change our strategy,” he said. “It’s a positive sign for our state that this election is focused on plans and not on personal appearance.”