Dole redux

WHEN Majority Leader Bob Dole resigned from the Senate last year, some twenty Clinton judicial nominees were pending confirmation. Conservative groups had feared Dole would sweep them all through in a final act of bi-partisan comity, and so breathed a sigh of relief when Trent Lott took over. But during July and August Lott pushed most of the judges through, bartering them for Democratic cooperation on the other matters. At one point later in the session Lott wanted to trade the confirmation of another batch of judges for a Republican Federal Election Commission nomination, a deal that was scotched when the FEC nominee himself told Lott it was a rotten trade.

Last year's action on judges has turned out to be a harbinger: of how Lott would be bent by the same institutional forces that shaped Bob Dole, of how his pragmatism would come to the fore as Senate Majority Leader, of his cur- rent tense relations with conservatives. Lott seems a natural as Majority Leader. Says one GOP senator: "He has the potential skills of a Lyndon Johnson." But, so far, the Majority Leader with whom Trent Lott is being com- pared most often is Bob Dole -- and not always favorably. Republicans had hoped that Lott could help the party stop its headlong retreat; instead he has hastened it.

Lott spent almost all his life climbing toward Majority Leader. He grew up in circumstances similar to Bill Clinton's, in a small town in Mississippi with an alcoholic father. Lott was an achiever from early on. In high school, he was voted most popular, most likely to succeed, and most handsome (runner-up). At Ole Miss, Lott became a cheerleader, an elected position. "Running for cheerleader was electioneering practice," one retired Ole Miss professor explained to the New York Times. "To get elected, they formed political blocs with other fraternities, cut deals, and did dorm-to-dorm precinct work."

In 1968, soon after law school, Lott moved to Washington. He became an aide to Rep. William Colmer, a conservative Democrat, and when his boss retired in 1972, won his seat as a Republican. Along with Newt Gingrich, he became part of the cadre of aggressive young Republicans in the House minority, rising to Whip in 1980. In 1988 he won a Senate seat. He chafed under Dole's cautious leadership and after the 1994 election knocked off incumbent GOP Whip Alan Simpson, setting the stage for his ascension to Majority Leader last June.

In Lott's persona Felix Unger meets Katie Couric, a neat freak with the con- tagious optimism of a cheerleader. He loves charts and lists, is always well-pressed, and has the tightly controlled hair of a newscaster. But the cheerful Lott also has a prodigious ability to be one of the guys. "Watch him on the floor," says a Senate aide. "He shakes hands, points his finger, winks, squeezes a neck -- and that's just in the first two minutes." Says another: "Lott thinks, If I can touch this person, and touch that person, I'm OK -- and I'm off to the next thing." Generally he's right. But the latest questions about Lott's leadership can't be winked away.

They are questions difficult to imagine asking a year ago. Inside the Senate, the word most associated with Lott's tenure as Majority Whip is "brilliant." He had a hound's nose for trouble spots and a tight organization that reliably delivered votes. When Lott stepped in as Majority Leader last year, he thought it was imperative that he clear away the legislative tangle he inherited, pass bills, and get his Republican senators home to campaign. "He hit the ground with a whole lot of mess and backlog," says Sen. Rick Santorum (R., Pa.), "and did a masterful job in moving forward on things."

The flurry of legislation and quick exit are generally credited with helping Senate Republicans pick up two seats. But Lott doesn't seem to have adjusted his operating principle -- do any deal -- since last year, which is raising increasing alarm about his negotiating ability and strategic sense. "I'm a great admirer of Trent's," says former Sen. Malcolm Wallop. "I'm willing to give him yards of grace in this thing, but I'm awfully worried." Inside the Senate, there has even developed a nostalgia for Bob Dole. "I don't think he realizes there's a problem," a Senate aide says of Lott. "Senators like him, they want him to succeed, but they're disturbed."

What happened? To some extent, a Senate Majority Leader is always forced to be a conciliator. But Lott also has weaknesses that had gone unnoticed. "There seems to be no long-range planning," says one GOP aide. Like Dole, Lott keeps his own counsel. He seeks advice, but no one is sure he actually listens. (Lott fusses with his fingernails when he's bored.) And he often ignores his own staff, meaning he lacks the trusted advisor Dole had in his chief of staff, Sheila Burke. The self-reliance tends to undermine Lott's discipline.