Never a Texas Two-Step

By Mike Allen, Matthew Cooper

When legal and ethical questions began spinning around House majority leader Tom DeLay last year, President George W. Bush was publicly supportive. Privately, though, he questioned his fellow Texan's mojo. Bush had scored 10 points higher than DeLay in the Representative's district in 2004, and that was only after Bush had recorded a telephone message to help rally local Republicans. "I can't believe I had to do robocalls for him," the President said bitingly to an Oval Office visitor.

To people who know Bush well, the remark said it all about the longtime chill between the two pols--a distance that is only sure to grow with former lobbyist Jack Abramoff's guilty plea. Both camps describe the two conservative Texan's relationship as professional--an alliance, not a friendship. "DeLay admires Bush's leadership but still thinks of himself as the strongest conservative on the block," a DeLay friend says. "They perceive DeLay as a bull in a china shop. They appreciate him as their protector and retriever." Like many of his colleagues on Capitol Hill, DeLay suffers under what officials call this Administration's general lack of respect for Congress. But he is also in the unique position of being the most prominent modern Republican politician in Texas to rise without the help of White House senior adviser Karl Rove, and the two have never been close. "Karl thinks of him as someone a little bit too opinionated for his own good," says an official close to both men. "And DeLay thinks of Karl as a former mail vendor, not some great guru."

Even before DeLay's announcement that he would abdicate his leadership post, top Bush advisers tell TIME, the President's inner circle always treated DeLay as a necessary burden. He may have had an unmatched grip on the House and Washington lobbyists, but DeLay is not the kind of guy--in background and temperament--the President feels comfortable with. Of the former exterminator, a Republican close to the President's inner circle says, "They have always seen him as beneath them, more blue collar. He's seen as a useful servant, not someone you would want to vacation with."

During Bush's first run for the presidency, that uneasy relationship was already on display. Eager to establish himself as a compassionate conservative, Bush took an oblique shot at DeLay while campaigning in California in 1999, saying of House Republicans, "I don't think they ought to balance their budget on the backs of the poor." DeLay never got a major speaking role at either of Bush's conventions. Still, the White House has had no qualms about using him to advance its agenda, and he has delivered. Without DeLay's deftness as the Hammer, Bush could have lost battles over the energy bill, the establishment of a new Medicare prescription-drug benefit and the Central American Free Trade Agreement.

But with the possibility that DeLay could be indicted in the Abramoff case, the Administration fears that the scandal could tarnish all Republicans and even hand the House to the Democrats. "They're worried about the Congress," an adviser said after talking to White House aides, "and they're worried about themselves." Although DeLay's forfeiture of his leadership post makes things easier for the White House, the Abramoff saga will continue to be a problem. Bracing for the worst, Administration officials obtained from the Secret Service a list of all the times Abramoff entered the White House complex, and they scrambled to determine the reason for each visit. Bush aides are also trying to identify all the photos that may exist of the two men together. Abramoff attended Hanukkah and holiday events at the White House, according to an aide who has seen the list. Press secretary Scott McClellan said Abramoff might have attended large gatherings with Bush but added, "The President does not know him, nor does the President recall ever meeting him."

Republican officials say they are so worried about the Abramoff problem that they are now inclined to stoke a fight with Democrats over the confirmation of Samuel Alito to the Supreme Court in an effort to turn the page from the lobbying investigation. Outside groups plan to spend heavily, and the White House will engage in some tit for tat with Democrats as the hearings heat up.

In the end, Bush may be saved by the textured relationship he has long had with well-heeled donors, who raised $300 million for his 2004 campaign, the most expensive one in the nation's history. When the President is traveling, he does not like to have contributors or local officials in his cars, planes or holding rooms unless they are there for a good reason, and he sometimes questions his underlings sharply if someone he considers extraneous is admitted. To make sure that doesn't happen, chief of staff Andrew Card has set up an elaborate vetting system that keeps people from sidling up to the President to suggest or hand anything to him. "They learned a lot from the previous Administration," says a Bush friend intimately familiar with the staff protocols.

Abramoff was one of the Bush-Cheney re-election campaign's "pioneers"--meaning he raised at least $100,000, most of it from others, in increments of $2,000. After Abramoff pleaded guilty, Bush aides announced they had donated to the American Heart Association $6,000 that had been given to the campaign by Abramoff, his wife and one of his Indian-tribe clients. But Republican officials said they plan to keep the remaining $94,000. A Bush aide said it cannot be assumed that the other donors, who were simply recruited by Abramoff, have done anything wrong: "That's not a fair standard."

Fair or not, the Bush Administration must now spend time and capital trying to minimize collateral damage from people they have tried to keep at a safe distance. Fortunately for the White House, the President a year ago began sending mixed signals about DeLay. When conservative leaders held a $250-a-plate tribute dinner in April to show solidarity with him, no one from the White House spoke. But a few weeks earlier, when Bush spoke in Galveston, Texas, he went out of his way to praise DeLay--then unindicted in Texas but under fire--and even gave him a ride to Washington on his helicopter, Marine One, and his jet, Air Force One. In his remarks, Bush saluted DeLay's effectiveness, which no one could dispute, but didn't bother to mention his character. That was exactly the point.

With reporting by With Reporting By Michael Duffy/Washington