Dole Buries His Hatchet

By Alessandra Stanley/Washington

His aides respectfully address him as Senator, but out on the road strangers instinctively call him Bob. They are meant to. The Robert Dole who has been zigzagging across key primary states as a loyal son of the unpretentious Midwest is very persuasive. He strides into an Iowa room, folds his arms over his chest and starts off with a low-key joke. Nothing fancy, just a dry, self- deprecating aside that signals that he too knows what damn fools politicians mostly are. His audience always chuckles appreciatively.

Dole's public demeanor is so folksy that it is jarring to hear him privately revert to his more acerbic Washington self. "People out there know I'm working," Dole snaps when asked if his Senate duties detract from his campaign. "They know Bush doesn't have to." Tired, Dole lets his affability slip. "Bush hasn't said word one since the market crashed," he says angrily. "He has nothing to worry about; he can just go out on Air Force Two, using dozens of federal employees, at a cost of millions . . ." Dole's voice trails off, his flare of resentment spent.

In Washington the urbane and sardonic Senate minority leader may seem like the George Sanders of the Republican race; out in the rest of the country, he comes off like Will Rogers. As he returns to Russell, Kans., this week to make his formal announcement, Dole once again will be tugging at his hometown roots. Arguing that all the Republican candidates are pretty much alike on matters of policy, Dole is running mainly on his newly minted persona -- softer, less biting. The risk of such a strategy is that he will become known as the candidate with the split personality.

Always witty, Dole has been working overtime to keep the sting out of his quips. But the down-to-earth manner of the new, improved Dole does not always mesh with that of the crafty insider. Political Analyst Kevin Phillips complains, "The image you get is that he drinks milk shakes one day and bourbon the next." Though his Senate record sustains his claims of being sensitive to the needy, he is still haunted by the image he earned as Gerald Ford's hatchet-wielding running mate in 1976. Even New Hampshire voters, whose closest encounter with Dole is a handshake at a Rotary Club luncheon, refer knowingly to Dole's "dark side."

His aides concede that if he ever slips and delivers a really vicious one- liner, "it's all over." He is always careful. All smiles and congeniality at the Republican debate in Houston last month, Dole was so bland that even George Bush seemed more spirited. Fretful aides blamed themselves -- and one another -- for stressing niceness too hard. But Dole insists the low-key approach was his own. "I wasn't coached at all," he bristles. "My mission was to bury the hatchet."

Part of the strategy involves shedding his previous reluctance to talk about himself or his crippling war wound. Now he uses an intensely personal autobiographical campaign speech. "He grudgingly recognized that the personal touch is effective," explains Confidant Tully Plesser.

So far, Dole has done a masterly job of balancing the demands of his Senate position with those of a candidate, using both roles to project an image of leadership and hands-on competence. Last week he was on national news every night of the week, commenting on the domestic summit, Supreme Court Nominee Douglas Ginsburg's prospects, arms control. At an Oval Office meeting, Dole tangled with George Shultz in a quick and quotable way. When the Secretary of State chastised Dole and other Senate Republicans for not embracing the proposed missile treaty, which even liberal Democrats like, Dole snapped, "That's exactly why I want to see it."

Dole has concentrated so intently on "getting people to know who I am" that some friends fear he has neglected to explain what he stands for. In campaignese, he suffers from a "message gap." Dole, who mainly stands for common sense, has always snorted at requests for his "vision." He figures that he has little to gain and plenty to lose by being too specific about programs. But beginning with his formal announcement this week, Dole will little by little flesh out his message of a sound economy and a compassionate society. Without such an effort, he runs the risk of a campaign that focuses mainly on personality. In his case, that can be a double-edged sword.