Members of my team had long memories of what it meant to go against these folks, having watched Democrat Ann Richards lose her 1994 gubernatorial re-election campaign after she vetoed a concealed carry bill. In the wake of that election, it became conventional wisdom that vetoing a gun bill would bring a Texas governor’s career to an end—the “Ann Richards Rule,” as it became known in the state’s political parlance. At a packed campaign event in deep-blue Travis County, I posed for a photo opportunity after Ann Richards’ adult children gave me her shotgun—a keen reminder of how fresh the lessons from that loss still are, especially for Texas Democrats.

Against that backdrop, I chose to do something that was cleverer than it was wise. I decided to take a position in favor of open carry, one which would include the caveat that any property owner who wanted to opt out should be able to do so, whether it be a school, hospital or a private business. Understanding that most of these property owners would likely take advantage of an opt-out provision if the legislature were ever even to agree to pass such a diluted version of the law, I thought I could go forward with a clear conscience.

Such was the dictate I gave my team from the Denver airport. But, as I hurriedly finished the conversation before boarding the airport terminal train, I couldn’t shake the shameful feeling that I had just done something I had never done before—I had compromised my deeply held principles for the sake of political expediency.