BIRTH OF A SALESMAN

By Michael Kramer

Wrong again. the conventional wisdom was so sure of itself: as soon as Colin Powell started talking issues, said the pols and pundits and even Powell himself, the sheen would fade. "I am fully aware that in taking stands on issues," Powell said, "I [will] quickly burn off popularity." But 10 days after Powell finally began speaking his mind, his standing has soared. New polls have him running about dead even with Bill Clinton and Bob Dole in a hypothetical three-way race; and Powell even manages a statistical tie with Dole for the G.O.P. nomination. Three weeks ago, Powell professed to lack the fire in the belly for a White House run. Now, he admits, "there may be a pilot light burning."

What's going on here? Are fickle voters again signaling their preference for the new and different and seemingly nonpolitical? Has a nation vexed by its racial divisions fallen in love with a self-described "nonthreatening kind of black man"? Or is Powell merely proving himself a master of titillation? He's been "out there" for just a week, but we've already glimpsed Powell's shrewdness--and it now seems more likely that he'd run as a Republican than as an independent.

As only a maybe-candidate ostensibly free of having to measure the political effect of his views, Powell claims to be enjoying a rare moment of freedom: "I can now say exactly what I believe." Well, yes, in the midst of the conservative drift, Powell has indeed expressed some strong opinions. On race relations, he has forthrightly confirmed the obvious: "The playing field isn't level. Some forms of affirmative action are still needed." On welfare, Powell is almost alone in worrying about the kids who'll suffer when their mothers' benefits are cut. But overall, Powell has said a lot without saying much at all; the true explanation for his popularity may simply be that most Americans share his views. For example: Powell supports the death penalty; so do about three-fourths of all citizens. He favors some gun control, as do most of the rest of us. Ditto for Powell's embrace of a moment of silence in school, abortion rights, three-strikes-and-you're-out sentencing laws and a host of other items he calls "the specifics."

But ask Powell to go beyond the headlines, and the red flags fly. "So being pro-choice means you'd support soldiers getting abortions at military hospitals," I asked last week. "I really haven't thought through using public funds for things like that," Powell said. Perhaps not, but no one who knows him thinks there is much of anything Colin Powell hasn't thought through. In this instance, Powell's nonresponse, which robs his pro-choice stance of an important real-world consequence, reveals caution rather than ignorance--and a finely honed political instinct as well. To a favorite Powell maxim, "Don't make a decision until you have to," one should probably add, "And don't rub it in unless you must."

Something else came clear last week: Powell is a skilled actor. In describing the hoopla of his book tour cum potential campaign, Powell repeatedly called his adventure "a kind of coming-out party." On at least three occasions when he used that line, Powell paused and appeared thoughtful--as if conjuring a neat formulation for the first time.

How does Powell actually get to the White House? After refusing for months to rule out any option, he's finally foreclosed running as a Democrat. "The independent route is still there," says a Powell friend, "but it doesn't take a champion tea-leaf reader to see that he's leaning Republican. He's on record saying Dole's support 'seems soft,' he's slipped into describing Republicans as 'we' and, above all, there's the Christian Coalition thing."

Ah yes, the Christian Coalition thing. Powell knows that the small minority that disagrees with him on "the specifics" is disproportionately influential in the Republican nominating process, and that the Christian Coalition is particularly upset with his saying in his book that he is "troubled by the passion of those on the extreme right who seem to claim divine wisdom on political as well as spiritual matters." From pro-life conservatives and the coalition's chief, Ralph Reed, the message was loud: it's O.K. if you don't share all our views, but you must show respect. Message received. "I am totally supportive of [the Christian Coalition's] mission," Powell said last Tuesday. "I think [they] should be applauded for their efforts to make America shape up again.'' "How about that," says Reed. Powell's "shown a real evolution" in his thinking.

Now that he's demonstrated the "political flexibility" that Dole says a White House aspirant must display, Powell, if he runs, will have to energize a wave of enthusiasts--both Republican and independent--in such open primary contests as the first, vital one in New Hampshire next February. That's how Dwight Eisenhower did it in 1952 and, increasingly, Ike's race seems the model Powell favors. The question then is how to retain an aura of antipolitics while running as a Republican. Some Powellites suggest a $250 limit on campaign contributions, which happens to be the maximum the Federal Government will match. "Get 100,000 givers, and that's $50 million without being seen as beholden to the fat cats," says a Powell adviser. "A damn smart idea," says a Dole aide. "But he's not really gonna run, right? He's just selling books, right?" Sure.