Jesse's Concentric Circles

By Richard Stengel

For most politicians, the inner circle means the old guard, longtime retainers whose chief virtue is loyalty rather than ability. Jesse Jackson has an inner circle, but the individuals seem chosen less for enduring devotion than for immediate usefulness, and their names and places change so often that advising Jackson can seem like a game of musical chairs.

While Jackson's large and varied outer circle of advisers is a racial rainbow, his four closest advisers -- at least for the moment -- are white, and three are Jewish. They include Jackson's campaign manager, Gerald Austin; his economics adviser, Carol O'Cleireacain; his policy adviser, Mark Steitz; and his all-purpose sounding board, Ann Lewis. The rationale for the cast of white faces is simple: Jackson's entourage, says a black adviser, "has done all the black politics they need to."

Austin, 43, a political consultant who managed two successful campaigns for Ohio Governor Richard Celeste, joined the campaign last November. He found the troops in disarray: Jackson's Chicago headquarters lacked not only copying machines but wastebaskets. Thus far, Austin has helped make the trains run and lifted staff morale. He is tough talking and irreverent; his greatest strength, observes another Jackson lieutenant, "is that he isn't afraid to make a decision."

O'Cleireacain, 41, an expert in public finance with a doctorate from the London School of Economics, plugs Jackson into the business community and labor unions. She is on leave from the American Federation of State, County and Municipal Employees. One of Jackson's most talked about proposals comes from O'Cleireacain: the suggestion that the Government force public-pension- fund managers to invest $60 billion a year in Government-backed securities for the purpose of building bridges, roads and schools. She has toned down Jackson's economic proposals, nudging him more toward moderate positions on world trade.

Steitz, 31, signed on with Jackson after leaving Gary Hart's sinking campaign, which he served as deputy issues director. He has helped persuade Jackson to reduce his planned 25% cut in defense spending to a more reasonable 10% and brought the candidate's revenue-raising notions more in line with congressional opinion. His principal asset is that he has an excellent rapport with Jackson. "If you want Jesse to do something," says an Eastern adviser, "it's worth telling Steitz to tell Jackson."

Among some Jackson advisers, the savvy Lewis, 50, is known as the "mother of us all." A former political director of the Democratic National Committee, a thoughtful, deep-dyed liberal and feminist, Lewis rarely accompanies Jackson but acts as a kind of backboard off which he bounces ideas. She functions as a conduit to party Pooh-Bahs and the media.

Jackson maintains daily telephone contact with a range of people, among them Maxine Waters, the California assemblywoman; California Assembly Speaker Willie Brown, his official campaign chairman and a strong but quiet influence; and former Carter Budget Director Bert Lance. But a few current inner-circle members may soon be advising Jackson from more distant orbits. In the wake of the Michigan primary, some prominent blacks in the campaign, Brown among them, are agitating for a more significant role. They want higher-profile positions so that when the inevitable brokering takes place, they will have assigned seats at the table.

With reporting by Michael Duffy with Jackson