The Attack Man - Bob Shrum and the Democratic style

Al Gore, as the country now realizes, is a rough campaigner-even a nasty one. His rhetoric is extreme, and his tactics are brutish. Naturally, he has formed a campaign team in his own image. There's general chairman Tony Coelho, who made his reputation smashing the face of Ronald Reagan in the 1980s. There's campaign manager Donna Brazile, who pops off wildly, sometimes shooting herself in the foot. And then there's Bob Shrum, the media strategist and all-purpose guru, who is the most aggressive, the most slashing, the most ruthless of them all. The campaign of George W. Bush knows to buckle its seat belt: It's going to be a very bumpy ride.

Shrum is probably the most important Democratic operative of the last 20 years. He has been at just about everyone's side, in the thick of nearly every fight. He is a legend in his own time: Everyone in politics, Democrat or Republican, has a fund of Shrum stories, and opinions. Most people like him; some are in awe of him; some-and not only Republicans-are repulsed by him; more than a few fear him. Bring up his name, and you'll get an earful of canine metaphors: Shrum is an "attack dog," a "pit bull," a "Rottweiler," a "junkyard dog." Some have used other images, however. Years ago, in thinking about Shrum's work, the New Jersey Republican Tom Kean said, "You hire an ax murderer, you're going to get an ax murder."

No one doubts that Shrum has a gift, or many gifts. As one rival says, "He does things seamlessly." He writes speeches, crafts ads, and plots strategy. He is also a fluent, if sometimes comically partisan, talking head on television. For his clients-particularly Ted Ken nedy-he has written some of the most lapidary, most soaring Democratic oratory of our time. And yet no one is more adept at the low blow, at kicking Repub lican teeth in, especially in the last days of a campaign, when the target is too stunned, or too battered, to respond. Shrum is a curious type: the poet-goon.

On top of all this, he is a first-rate businessman-perhaps the most successful political consultant in Washington. Shrum, to put it mildly, is rich as Croesus. And he got that way, first by being capable, and second by connecting with politicians who are themselves rich. The deeper a candidate's pockets, the more likely Shrum is to be in them. As one observer puts it, Shrum is a master at "fleecing saps from the hinterland who don't know how to run a media campaign." Says another, "He goes for rich and stupid. They just don't know what has happened to them." Shrum's former firm, Doak & Shrum, was known by some as "Soak and Run." Quips one of Shrum's fellow operatives, "Bob has convinced political neophytes to play the game of 'Who Wants to Be a Former Millionaire?'"

Currently, Shrum is handling Jon Corzine, the Senate candidate and ex- Goldman Sachs partner in New Jersey. Other wealthy clients have included Al Checchi in California, Herb Kohl in Wisconsin, Howard Metzenbaum in Ohio, Metzen baum's son-in-law, Joel Hyatt, in the same state, Charlie Owen in Ken tucky, and John Edwards in North Carolina- all loaded, all free-spenders. Of course, every other consultant would like the rich clients, too, as Shrum's peers happily admit. It's just that the smooth and clever Shrum has shown a remarkable ability to land them.

In the course of his prodigious politicking, Shrum has become a fixture on the Washington social scene. Indeed, he is a pillar of it. He and his wife, the writer Marylouise Oates, are part of that cozy community that features Al and Judy, Jim and Kate, and (not least) Ben and Sally. Says an insider, "Bob likes money, no doubt about that. He has an extravagant and expensive lifestyle." Shrum is a wide- ranging reader, a bon vivant, a lover of Italy. And he runs a starry Georgetown salon. Says one wistful Washington figure, no longer invited, "I always enjoyed him." The Shrum home "was the gathering place in Washington of all the thinkers on the Democratic side, with a few Republicans sprinkled in. I met everybody there. You go there for the amazing food and the incredible conversation. And when you leave, you feel like you just dined at the Smithsonian. Frankly, I miss it."

RISE OF A PRO

Shrum, now in his mid 50s, grew up in Los Angeles. He won a scholarship to Georgetown University, where he was named the top college debater in the country (no less). Then he went to Harvard Law School, where he earned still more honors. He never practiced law, however, jumping into the political arena immediately. He wrote speeches for John Lindsay, then for Ed Muskie in the 1972 presidential campaign, and after that for the party's nominee, George McGovern. Four years later, he signed on with Jimmy Carter-whom he left after a grand total of ten days. In quitting the campaign, Shrum accused Carter of duplicity, of saying one thing in public and another in private. He also implied that Carter was something of a closet conservative. Jody Powell, the press secretary, said that Shrum had acted in a "childish and hurtful manner." As Carter himself told it, the young scribe had assumed "that he could just deliver me a speech and I would parrot it." Well, "I've never done that."