Perot-Noia

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Then there was the alleged plot against his life by drug lords. In a separate controversy, his long feud with Washington over its handling of the MIA issue, Perot accused Richard Armitage, Assistant Secretary of Defense in the Reagan Administration, of a nefarious cover-up. In running his successful computer empire, Perot occasionally subjected employees to polygraph tests. Last week seven defectors from his volunteer network charged that they had been targets of improper credit investigations. This pattern is familiar to those who worked with Perot long before he grew politically ambitious. "He keeps so much in his head," says a former business associate of Perot's. "You can never figure what he's up to. He says someone called him ((to supply intelligence)), or that he saw somebody, but there's no way of confirming half of it."

As Perot rose in the polls last spring, the press stopped treating him as a novelty and began to examine his record. Perot's pat response, instead of addressing the critical stories or shrugging them off, was to blame "the Republican Party dirty-tricks committee." But Perot's real problem is with the way America goes about electing its President, a rigorous (and yes, sometimes punishing) process that tests the candidates' ideas and mettle. Any candidate for high office, particularly one who is new to politics, must expect his record and statements to be scrutinized. Perot decided to circumvent part of that route by skipping the primaries, but he still found the inquiry intolerable, which may be the main reason why he left the race last summer.

Nonetheless, Perot retained a substantial following even while his image as a can-do truth teller came into question. One reason is a broad loss of confidence in both major parties. That credibility gap has been growing for years, and the punching match this season between Bush and Bill Clinton has widened it. State Department officials did, after all, troll through passport files on Clinton -- and his mother -- looking for information to use against the Democrat. That the Republicans undertook so mindless an excursion gave a trace of credibility to Perot's latest charges.

Still, the disclosures about Perot's foibles did not disqualify him in the eyes of many voters who were disgusted with politics as usual. With Bush and Clinton dancing around some of the most difficult issues, Perot's mantra about being the only serious reformer in the field got a hearing. And with a fortune to spend on commercials, plus easy access to TV talk shows, Perot never lacked a forum for his views.

Before he dropped out in July, Perot liked to say he "wouldn't give you 3 cents to go up there ((to the White House))." Yet at the same time, he was aiding his "volunteer" movement with heavy subsidies. Even during his hiatus as a noncandidate, Perot's cash kept the organization going. Because he declines to accept federal money, the billionaire can use as much of his own money as he wishes. In the 26 days after he re-entered the race on Oct. 1, he spent $36.7 million, most of it on TV commercials; though the final figures are not in, he outspent both Bush and Clinton on advertising during October.