The Presidency

By Hugh Sidey

Secretary of the Treasury James Baker is a far piece from the muddy Illinois caravan of George Bush, but he is the most important figure in the Vice President's campaign. How Baker tunes the economy will, more than any other factor besides the nature of Bush himself, determine the Republican future, not to mention Ronald Reagan's rendezvous with history.

Baker presides in a glorious, bright office with a log fire that cuts the late-winter chill. He looks out one tall window on the White House gardens, out another toward Alexander Hamilton in the splendor of bronze and new cherry buds. Pity the beasts of political burden in Peoria's Holiday Inn.

Officially Baker is neutral in this race. Actually he is on the phone constantly with the Vice President, his friend of 30 years. "The best thing I can do for now is stay right here," he tells inquiring pols, pointing down at his thick beige carpet. A light pink shirt may sit puckishly against his somber Treasury pinstripes, or an Hermes tie may softly signal his worldly strides.

There are times in Washington when important events settle on a single man. So now with Baker, who is judged by many to be the capital's most effective official. Baker is no economics expert. He is a diplomat, devising a global political system to guide the economy just when the enlightened management of wealth is emerging as a greater power for governments than weapons. "The political interest and the economic interest have converged," he says. He is right: whether Mike Dukakis and Jesse Jackson admit it or not, a good economy is not only in the national interest but, finally, the best politics. It happens to be crucial for George Bush, who, if successful, may make Baker his Secretary of State.

Last week Baker, not long back from urging the Koreans to cut trade barriers, was up before the Joint Economic Committee. "You are the one real star of this Administration," rasped Democratic Senator William Proxmire of Wisconsin, who then ripped into the Administration's policies with curmudgeonly glee. Baker sat calmly, understanding the game being played. Then he raised the possibility that Reagan might ask Japan to pay more for defense provided by the U.S., a deft move in the search for ways to cut American deficits, a huge campaign issue. Next morning he was at a Cabinet breakfast, collecting intelligence on the budget and trade. After that, he jetted to South Carolina to honor a speaking invitation from Republican Strom Thurmond, a locus of Senate power, even though Thurmond had been a pillar of support down there for Bob Dole.

Baker's domestic network includes dozens of congressional chieftains, agency heads like the Fed's Alan Greenspan, and private bankers and scholars. On a global basis, the singular Baker structure touches a hundred financial ministers. He jingles this network scores of times each week.

Jim Baker rides out these delicate days with a shoeshine and a smile, convinced that the West, and especially the U.S., has the know-how to produce an era of unprecedented prosperity with peace. "It is not apocalypse now," he insists. If the deficits shrink more and there is no recession ("I see nothing out there to indicate that the economy is not going to keep growing"), then expansion could diminish that specter of a $2.4 trillion debt making hostages of young Americans. Banishing fear is the heart of politics.

Last Friday, Baker gathered up notes on the week's doings that he had scribbled with his trusty felt-tipped pen, and he walked over to update his boss in the Oval Office. It is also one of Baker's fervent goals to help Reagan go out with dignity and glory. It is not strange at all that such a finale for the President would be about the best thing to happen to George Bush.