Campaign Portrait, Robertson: His Eyes Have Seen the Glory

Occasionally, when a wayward voter rebuffed their earnest entreaties, they dropped to their knees to pray for the misguided soul heading toward the ballot boxes in the crowded Ames, Iowa, arena. But when their candidate finally strode onto the podium with the beaming countenance of a man blessed with faith in the righteousness of his path, the campaign workers leaped off their feet in joy. Leaning forward with the mild-mannered charm of a televangelist talking to a camera, yet drawing on the rhythmic cadences of a polished preacher, the Rev. Pat Robertson delivered an ecumenical version of the message that has attracted such a fervent cadre of crusaders to his Republican presidential campaign. "Whether we're rich, whether we're poor -- whether we're management, whether we're labor -- whether we're black, whether we're white -- whether we're educated, whether we're uneducated -- We -- Are -- All -- Americans!"

Robertson was on a roll last week. In the straw poll in Ames, he scored an upset that left the Iowa campaign of George Bush reeling. In Michigan, he easily won a procedural vote that solidified his lead in that state's convoluted delegate-selection process. And in Chesapeake, Va., he announced that he had collected the 3 million signatures he insisted were necessary to persuade him to run for the presidency. Having grossed $10 million in contributions, Robertson is no longer just a fringe factor. Republicans now must ask, What does Robertson really represent?

Though Robertson professes astonishment at his victories, he is in fact neither surprised nor fazed by his success. He is a different species of candidate, a disarming striver whose supreme self-confidence rests heavily on the belief that "God has a plan for everyone." In his case, this includes running for President. Those truly amazed are conventional Republican sachems who had regarded him as no more than a colorful nuisance. They have watched his partisans in four states marry religious fervor with organizational energy to win local contests that are normally ignored. Richard Bond, deputy campaign manager for Bush, says he has found a common reaction in conversations with local party leaders around the country. "It's uncanny," says Bond. "Republicans kept insisting, 'It can't happen here' -- until their doors were blasted off."

Robertson's ability to draw new, enthusiastic workers into dreary political scut work was most evident at the meeting in Ames, a fund-raising dinner that featured a straw poll for those who bought $25 tickets and had an Iowa driver's license. The Bush campaign, along with those of Bob Dole and Jack Kemp, went all out to pack the arena with supporters. But even before the first candidate spoke, it was obvious that Robertson's forces had pulled off a coup. Dressed in white T shirts and hats emblazoned with their champion's name, they clearly outnumbered and outcheered their rivals.