The New Chief Loyal but Not So Arrogant

By Michael Duffy/Washington

When George Bush gathered 36 political advisers around a Camp David conference table last August to discuss the 1992 campaign, most of his guests jockeyed for choice seats near Bush or chief of staff John Sununu. Avoiding the fray, however, was Sam Skinner, who entered the room last and quietly took a seat along the back wall. While others injected unsolicited opinions and tried to score points with the boss, Skinner spoke only when Bush requested his opinion, which, according to one participant, happened frequently. "It was clear to everybody in the room that John Sununu was still Bush's right hand, but that Sam Skinner was on Bush's mind."

Few insiders were surprised when Bush turned to Skinner to reverse his sagging political fortunes and end the disarray at the White House. In three years as Secretary of Transportation, Skinner has emerged as the Administration's top crisis manager, a loyalist whose tenacity and competence have earned him Bush's respect and admiration. Most important, the 53-year-old Illinois lawyer lacks both the ideological agenda and know-it-all arrogance that made Sununu an enemy of nearly everyone in Washington. "He wanted someone in the job as loyal as John," Skinner said last week in an interview with TIME, "and he wanted someone who gets along with people."

Skinner's people skills are not in doubt. Since coming to Washington, Skinner has surprised White House aides by volunteering to make telephone calls and give speeches on problems unrelated to transportation. He has gone to great lengths to woo members of Congress, in one instance personally delivering a birthday cake to Representative Glenn Anderson, then 76 and chairman of the Public Works Committee. Skinner became a regular golfing partner of Dan Quayle's, and was treated by Quayle to a $27,000 trip at taxpayer expense to the Augusta National Golf Club in Georgia aboard Air Force Two earlier this year. Skinner's wife Honey, a Washington lawyer, befriended Bush's daughter Doro, leading a house-hunting trip for the First Daughter when she moved to Washington from Maine a few years ago. "Skinner is the only guy I know who showed up at the White House mess just to hang out," cracked a senior official. Says Skinner: "I've always tried to be considerate of people because you never know when you're going to be out of these jobs."

Unlike Sununu, the low-key Skinner is accustomed to playing the supporting role. A protege of former Illinois Governor Jim Thompson's, Skinner was reared in Illinois, received an accounting degree at the University of Illinois, served in the Army and then joined IBM as a sales representative. Though the | computer company named him Outstanding Salesman of 1967, Skinner attended law school at night and gave up his $50,000-a-year corporate job to be a $9,000-a- year prosecutor in the U.S. Attorney's office. He rose to U.S. Attorney, earning the nickname "Sam the Hammer" for his aggressive prosecution of corrupt officials in the state Democratic machine.

During the 1980s, Skinner practiced law at the prestigious Chicago firm of Sidley & Austin. He served as chairman of the city's enormous Regional Transit Authority. At Thompson's suggestion, he ran Bush's Illinois primary campaign in 1980 and his general election campaign in the state in 1988, when he was baptized "Velcro" by Bush's Washington staff for his uncanny ability to stay close to the candidate during visits to Illinois. When Bush won, Thompson championed Skinner for Transportation.

In a reactive White House where quick reflexes are prized, Skinner became the preferred troubleshooter. He managed the Administration's response to the Exxon Valdez oil spill, the Eastern Air Lines strike, Hurricane Hugo and the 1989 California earthquake. Now Skinner's task is to cut dead weight from the White House staff and reawaken the Administration's dormant domestic policy and public relations operation. His appointment has worried some conservatives, who relied on Sununu to take their side in most fights. But Skinner, who has recently applied his charms to the right, insists that he is "as conservative as any conservative" and adds that "Bush's programs are my programs."

There may be nothing Sam Skinner won't do for Bush. During a 1989 G.O.P. fund-raising dinner, a Secret Service agent, careful not to alarm the crowd, inched toward the head table on all fours. He tapped Skinner on the foot and said, "Follow me, sir." Without ado, the Secretary of Transportation got down on his hands and knees and crawled between tables, chairs and legs to the rear of the ballroom, then stepped into a waiting limousine and motored to the White House Situation Room, where he planned the California earthquake cleanup.

One can hardly imagine John Sununu on his hands and knees for anybody.

With reporting by Elaine Shannon/Washington and Elizabeth Taylor/Chicago