Lone Star Rising

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Such over-the-top pronouncements are enough to make one start rooting for the other shoe to drop--the mistake that could cause George W. to stumble in the early primaries the way so many anointed front runners have before him. To guard against that, Bush has been working what might be called a cream-stationery strategy--dashing off notes to potential supporters in key states. Shortly after New Hampshire house speaker Donna Sytek was quoted in a newspaper article as saying she hadn't chosen a candidate to support, a handwritten letter arrived from the Texas Governor: "I hope good people can wait." The note worked: Sytek is waiting--even though Dole has asked her to come aboard. Sytek says she won't make up her mind until she meets Bush in person. Letter writing runs in the family. New Hampshire G.O.P. activist Mike Dagostino recently heard from the Governor's father. "You know how much the Bush family values loyalty," wrote the former President. "You have been a loyal friend."

But the family name is a blessing and a curse. To tear Bush down, rival camps have tried to paste him with the labels they once used to bury his dad--"tax raiser," "moderate," "Establishment." They also pose litmus-test questions related to the elder Bush's White House years. Does the Governor support the repeal of his father's 1990 tax increase? Will he renounce the broken "no new taxes" pledge? Are we saddled with Saddam now because his father didn't finish the job in Iraq? In private meetings Bush has been quick to say that he is not afraid to distance himself from the 41st President's legacy. His father himself smoothed the way, writing a note to George W. and his brother Jeb, now the Governor of Florida, urging them not to feel burdened by their old man. A famously fierce defender of his father when he worked in the White House, George W. likes to point out that he has a record of his own now, one he hopes to augment this year with a passel of goodies that should please G.O.P. conservatives--a $2.6 billion state-tax cut, a plan to end social promotion in public schools, a pilot program for school vouchers.

Bush has also kept his distance from most of his father's top political and policy advisers. "I want you to know that Dick Darman is nowhere in my campaign, and he never will be," he told one gathering, referring to the former Budget Director whom conservatives blame for President Bush's 1990 tax increase. For political advice, the Governor leans heavily on Karl Rove, the premier Texas political consultant who crafted the Bush victories in 1994 and 1998. Rove, a mild son of the New South who will run Bush's presidential campaign in fact if not in title, is so committed to the Governor that two weeks ago, at Bush's request, he sold his private consulting company. The Texas brain trust Rove heads--including Bush communications director Karen Hughes, chief of staff Joe Allbaugh and finance chairman Don Evans--will form the nucleus of the campaign team. Bush isn't leaning on Beltway types, but he has sought the counsel of former New York Representative Bill Paxon. And through Paxon, he found the woman he wants as his campaign's political director--Maria Cino, a party operative who in 1994 helped orchestrate the G.O.P.'s takeover of the House.

The hardest group for Bush to woo is social conservatives who never believed President Bush cared about them after Election Day. To win their hearts, he has turned to former Christian Coalition executive director Ralph Reed for advice. In late January Bush made a rare out-of-state journey to see coalition founder Pat Robertson in Chesapeake, Va. The Governor did not seek--or receive--an endorsement, but suggested he was not a threat. "He loves the Lord," Robertson said privately after the meeting.

Bush has also spoken to Richard and Elisabeth DeVos, benefactors of a wide range of socially conservative organizations, including the Family Research Council, whose president, Gary Bauer, is on leave to run for President. The Michigan couple flew to Austin for a private dinner with the Governor and his wife. Bush said the blessing and spent the evening talking about his positions and beliefs. The DeVoses went home impressed. "It was clearly an effort not only to inform but to persuade," says Betsy DeVos, who, as chair of the Michigan state G.O.P., can't endorse a primary candidate. Bush knows that some would-be supporters are worried that there may have been an indiscretion during his years as a heavy-drinking party boy that could turn into a 6-in. tabloid headline during the campaign. So Bush assures people like the DeVoses that he never did anything that, if discovered, would disqualify him as a candidate. "The difference between me and Clinton," Bush likes to say, "is that we both made mistakes, but I learned from mine. I grew up."