FOR PETE'S SAKE

By Michael Kramer

LAST TIME IT WAS MARIO CUOMO. THIS TIME IT'S PETE WILSON. JUST AS the possibility of Mario loomed like a fatal disease over the 1992 Democratic presidential wannabes, so the current G.O.P. contenders are apoplectic about Wilson's running--a near certainty now, with an announcement possible this week.

Color them scared, but not frozen. Each of the three top candidates is maneuvering to thwart Wilson's prospects. Lamar Alexander, who fears that Wilson could usurp his anti-Washington, outsider mantle, reminds anyone who'll listen that Wilson pledged to finish his full term as California's Governor, "and should do just that." Phil Gramm's aides point to inconsistencies in Wilson's record--"opportunistic wafflings," says Gramm strategist Charles Black. Wilson advisers deflect such shots with blithe confidence. "Big deal," says pollster Dick Dresner. "Clinton swore he'd serve his term [as Arkansas' Governor], and no one's record is totally coherent."

Bob Dole is playing the hardest ball of all. In New York, a state Dresner identifies as ideologically hospitable to Wilson's brand of moderate Republicanism, Dole, to use his own word, has sent Wilson an unmistakable "message.'' Virtually every prominent New York Republican, beginning with Senator Al D'Amato, has announced for Dole ahead of the schedule set several months ago. In some places endorsements are greeted with yawns. But in New York having the G.O.P. machine in your corner can mean you run unopposed. "We've got Soviet-style ballot-access rules," D'Amato complained in 1988, when George Bush kept Dole off the ballot in most of the state's congressional districts. "The regulations have been liberalized somewhat,'' says Frank Penski, a New York attorney and election-law expert. "You no longer have petition signatures thrown out because someone forgets his middle initial, for instance. But it's still antidemocratic, and with D'Amato against him, Wilson will have to spend about $1 million just to have a decent chance to get on the ballot."

Meanwhile, Dole and Wilson are competing for highly prized help. Among the operatives they're courting are Bill Canary and Jim Wray, two legends in Republican circles. Canary is an expert paratrooper: "You drop him into some state where something needs fixing,'' says former G.O.P. chairman Rich Bond, "and it gets fixed." Wray, political director for the Bush White House, has reportedly been muscled in the old-fashioned way. Wray is from Ohio and still has some political business there. According to several sources, when Wray was being wooed by Wilson two weeks ago, an adviser to Governor George Voinovich, who's supporting Dole, suggested to Wray that he think about "whiting out" the Ohio address on his business card if he signed with Wilson. (Wray denies the incident.) "This is the big leagues," says Dole's Dave Carney. "It's trench warfare everywhere." If "you can't have the top guys yourself," says a Gramm aide, "you want them isolated, especially from Wilson."

Why is the stiff, uncharismatic Wilson so feared by other Republicans? Because he delivers on things that most politicians merely promise, says Wilson adviser Dresner. "Everyone talks the talk. All the Republicans are 'tough on crime,' against affirmative action and in favor of welfare and immigration reform. Wilson's different because he's actually enacted stuff like 'three strikes and you're in' and the proposition restricting social services for illegals. The others talk. Pete does. They're worried voters will notice."