The Dark Money Man: How Sean Noble Moved the Kochs' Cash into Politics and Made Millions
Photo Noble Thinking
by Kim Barker and Theodoric Meyer ProPublica, Feb. 14, 2014, 1:30 p.m.This story was updated on May 7, 2014 2:00 p.m.
For a brief, giddy moment, Sean Noble2014a little-known former aide to an Arizona congressman2014became one of the most important people in American politics.
Plucked from obscurity by libertarian billionaire brothers Charles and David Koch, Noble was tasked with distributing a torrent of political money raised by the Koch network, a complex web of nonprofits nicknamed the Kochtopus, into conservative causes in the 2010 and 2012 elections.
Noble handed out almost $137 million in 2012 alone -- all of it so-called dark money from unnamed donors -- from his perch atop the Center to Protect Patient Rights, a group run out of an Arizona post office box.
Much of it was channeled to obvious destinations: Groups supporting Republican presidential candidate Mitt Romney, for example.
But with Noble as ringmaster, Koch money also poured into efforts that didn't surface until long after Election Day: To a political committee backing Wisconsin Gov. Scott Walker against a recall attempt; to a group blaming President Obama for high gas prices; even to a legal challenge to Arizona's redistricting plan.
"I must tell you that Sean Noble from your group has been immensely helpful in our efforts," a California multimillionaire wrote to Charles Koch in October 2012, asking Koch to give several million to support an anti-union initiative in the state. "Thanks for any consideration."
Noble appears to have lost his central position in the Koch empire, undone by poor election results and a California investigation that shined an unwelcome light on some of the Center's inner workings, insiders say.
But his story shows how the Supreme Court's landmark 2010 Citizens United ruling has given rise to a new breed of power brokers who control a growing pool of money raised in secret and spent to influence politics in ways that voters can't always trace.
Much of Noble's work in 2012 remained invisible to the public until the Center and dozens of other Koch-backed nonprofits released their tax returns late last year.
An examination of those tax returns, along with court records and filings with the Federal Election Commission, shows that the Center to Protect Patient Rights bent state election laws and federal tax rules governing how such groups are supposed to operate.
Millions of dollars the Center told the Internal Revenue Service it gave to other groups only for "tax exempt education and social welfare purposes" were actually spent on election ads and other political activities. Experts on nonprofit law said it's the donor's responsibility to follow up on grants if they were not spent as required.
One of the biggest beneficiaries of the Koch network's money was Sean Noble himself, tax documents show. The Center paid three firms owned by Noble almost $24 million for consulting and other services in 20122014or more than $1 of every $6 it spent.
Sheila Krumholz, the executive director of the Center for Responsive Politics, a nonpartisan watchdog group that has written extensively about the Koch network, said disclosures from nonprofits come far too late to help voters and regulators.
"What we're ending up with is information which is almost entirely useless to the voters," she said. "Because it's come so far after the election, so far after the fact that voters can barely remember what these organizations were doing and on behalf of which candidates or parties."
There's no indication that Noble or the Center are under scrutiny by authorities for violating tax or election laws.
For this story, ProPublica interviewed dozens of people about Noble, from his high-school science teacher to fellow Republican operatives, most of whom spoke on condition of anonymity, fearing possible backlash from fellow conservatives or the Kochs.
Noble did not respond to questions from ProPublica.
In an email, Rob Tappan, spokesman for Koch Industries, did not respond to specific questions from ProPublica about Noble or the Center, but acknowledged Noble "was a consultant for Koch in the past and attended Koch seminars." Tappan likened Noble to Jim Messina, who was Obama's campaign manager, and Paul Begala, a chief strategist for Bill Clinton in his first presidential run. Tappan said Noble was a consultant for "many other groups and issues." (Read his entire response here.)
Most who know Noble, 43, saw him as an unlikely candidate to become the Kochs' money man.
"There were plenty of people who had a lot more actual campaign experience," said a Democratic operative who knew Noble in Arizona. "That's a pretty big step up from Triple A to the majors, maybe Double A to the majors."
An affable, handsome man with graying temples who favors jeans and eschews ties, Noble had an aw-shucks demeanor. He liked watching Little League baseball games with his family, leading his local Mormon ward and working tirelessly behind the scenes on campaigns for minor politicians.
Over the last two election cycles, though, Noble's persona evolved. He flew first class, accumulated five homes and sat near the 50-yard-line at the Super Bowl. He rubbed elbows with top conservatives, from Sarah Palin to John McCain.
Even if Noble's role in the Koch network is over, his story illuminates larger truths about how money changes both politics and the people who handle it.
"I think Sean at the end of the day is an anecdotal story of something that's happening much bigger in the American electorate," said a Republican consultant who knows Noble. "Mr. Noble goes to Washington."
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Noble was an unusual choice for the Koch brothers. He overshared. His blog, called Noble Thinking, was a bizarre mix of personal revelations ("I was a terrible dater"), bragging about his connections (attending a dinner "with a guest list that was right out of the Who's Who D.C.-New York power corridor") and fears about Obama (particularly, "the march toward socialized health care").
The Kochs are known for valuing discretion and control.
Noble's main credential was working for Arizona Rep. John Shadegg for more than 13 years, eventually becoming his in-state chief of staff. Though hardly a household name, Shadegg was influential in the conservative wing of the Republican Party.
"It's important to understand the influence that John Shadegg had within Republican and conservative circles at the time," a Democratic operative in Arizona told ProPublica. "That was his in."
At some point, Noble met Randy Kendrick, a lawyer by training who was on the board of the Goldwater Institute, a bastion of libertarian thought in the West. Kendrick and her husband, an owner of the Arizona Diamondbacks, were big Shadegg donors. (The Huffington Post wrote about Kendrick and Noble in 2013.)
In spring 2009, when it became clear that Obama was pursuing a national health-care law, Kendrick turned to Noble for help defeating it. Noble had recently left Shadegg's office to launch a consulting firm, Noble Associates, out of his Phoenix home.
"Sean got hooked up with Randy," a prominent Arizona Republican said in an interview. "He became her local guy to manage everything. He became her political consultant."
Kendrick was also close to the Koch brothers. "Randy Kendrick is in the inner circle of the Koch brothers' network," a Republican consultant told ProPublica, adding that she pushed the Kochs to back a new group targeting Obama's health-care plan. As for Noble, "I think they liked the fact that he hadn't been a political consultant before."
Noble was no slick Washington insider. A self-described "hick from Show Low," Ariz., a town of about 11,000, Noble married a woman he had met on his Mormon mission in Indiana and became a devoted father of five. He had tried living in the nation's capital once, moving his family there for two years in the 1990s, only to move back to work in Shadegg's Phoenix district again. He was the type of guy who said "good grief"and meant it.
Noble also had the right ideological background: He quoted Barry Goldwater, Ronald Reagan and libertarian icon Ayn Rand. His first political memory was from 1976, when Jimmy Carter was elected president and his mother started to cry, saying, "We're going to be beaten by the Soviets now."
In 1994, when he was 24, Noble attended Rush Limbaugh's freshman orientation in Baltimore for the 73 Republican members of Congress who had gained office in the so-called Republican Revolution. When he was 37, Noble was among the 2,200 mourners at William F. Buckley's funeral at St. Patrick's Cathedral in Manhattan.
For years, Charles and David Koch, two of the richest men in America, had helped form and support a network of conservative think tanks, foundations and social welfare nonprofits that pursued a libertarian agenda. They seeded the ground for the Tea Party, and then cultivated the various groups that sprouted. In the 1980s, the Koch brothers helped form the group that split into two of the most influential conservative nonprofits now operating, Americans for Prosperity and FreedomWorks.
The Kochs raised money for their network in part at secretive semi-annual retreats. The media wasn't invited and attendees weren't supposed to talk about them, a kind of "Fight Club" for like-minded billionaires.
One donor who has attended the retreats told ProPublica in an email that he had only a sketchy idea of how money raised at the events was disbursed. He responded to questions on condition of anonymity, saying he feared backlash from the Obama administration and the IRS and adding that the Kochs resented any information from the events being disclosed.
"The people who attend these events have ultimate respect for the Founding Fathers and the Constitution," he wrote. "The over-riding theme is that nothing worthwhile is achieved without hard work, coupled with integrity and humility. ... And the Kochs are not in this for any personal gain whatsoever as all they seem to get is vilification."
By spring 2009, Noble had landed a job within the Koch network. On April 16, the Center to Protect Patient Rights was incorporated by a lawyer in Maryland who went on to work with other groups tied to the Kochs. Noble was its executive director, documents show. According to the group's tax filings, he was paid no salary; his firm received $30,000 a month, he said in a sworn deposition in 2013.
