Clinton's People

By MICHAEL DUFFY LITTLE ROCK

Is Thomas McLarty, Bill Clinton's kindergarten classmate, just too nice a guy to be White House chief of staff? At first that appears to be the case: the mild-mannered McLarty greets a visitor with an open, guileless smile, an almost whispered hello and a courtly bow more suited to a maitre d' than to the CEO of a FORTUNE 500 company. He doesn't hold "meetings" or give "interviews" but instead likes to "visit" with friends and colleagues. Such humility might seem a hazard in the job that got the better of John Sununu and Sam Skinner.

But Bill Clinton is no George Bush, and it is no accident that the new chief of staff lacks the hardballer's callouses of his predecessors. Rather than letting a lone chief of staff bring a narrow set of final decisions to him, as Bush did, Clinton will spend much of his time debating the pros and cons of issues with his deputies. "I don't see the job as a gatekeeper or as an enforcer. I really do see it as a supporting role," says McLarty. He intends to be an honest broker who will carry out orders, keep a low profile and make sure that those who disagree do so, as he puts it, "in an agreeable way."

Clinton's aides say McLarty will prosper because he enjoys the longtime trust of both the President-elect and his wife. In Arkansas, where politics is a kind of state-sponsored blood sport, McLarty is almost universally admired.

Those who know him say he is an organizational whiz who glows with confidence and is able to get his way without making personal attacks. Known widely as "Mack," he has built an unusual degree of loyalty across political lines simply by being direct and honest. One of the few people in Clinton's inner circle with private business experience, McLarty ran his family's chain of Ford dealerships for 15 years and recalls the pain of making what he calls "better-bad choices," which included firing family members and close friends who didn't measure up. "I don't think you have to be autocratic or meanspirited," he says, "but decisions have to be made, and I know how to put the periods on the ends of sentences."

McLarty's greatest asset is his 41-year relationship with the President- elect. During the past year, Clinton spoke frequently in private about the importance of staying "grounded" in the face of so much new attention. Clinton's defeat in his 1980 attempt for a second gubernatorial term taught him that he could get too arrogant for his own good. When he asked McLarty earlier this month to consider the chief of staff's job, Clinton told his old friend that he wanted someone who could look the most powerful man on earth in the eye, remind him of his roots and tell him he was messing up. "I plan to talk straight," said McLarty. "The President-elect expects me to do that, just as I have for 40 years now."

McLarty and Clinton first teamed up in Miss Mary Perkins' kindergarten class in Hope, Arkansas. Though Clinton moved north to Hot Springs in the second grade, the two boys saw each other during the summers, when Clinton visited his grandparents. In high school both attended Arkansas Boys State -- McLarty was elected governor; Clinton was tapped for Boys Nation, which led to a trip to Washington and a legendary handshake with J.F.K. Though each loved politics, they weren't identical: McLarty was a varsity quarterback while Clinton was a leader of the Hot Springs High School band. McLarty attended the University of Arkansas but was visited often by his Georgetown friend. During one trip, Clinton and McLarty were walking down a Fayetteville street when Clinton happened to glance in a store window. Seeing his reflection and that of his shorter and slighter friend, Clinton remarked, "McLarty, when we get to be 45, people are going to think I was the football player and you were in the band."

After college McLarty went into his family's auto business. In 1985 he became chairman of Arkla, Inc., a natural-gas distribution firm that was struggling under deregulation and a host of bad deals. McLarty tried to cut costs and expand markets, but increasing debts have driven the company's stock down almost 50% since he took over.

Modest in every way, McLarty admits a weakness for movies and likes to walk several miles a day. He is known as a white-knuckle flyer. "He sees a cloud," said transition official Skip Rutherford, "and goes to the cockpit to consult with the pilot."

McLarty was part of Clinton's campaign from the start. He helped raise $960,000 at a single Little Rock dinner last year, a feat that helped secure Clinton's status as an early front runner. By the end of the campaign, McLarty had emerged as a quiet consigliere, the only homegrown official on Clinton's tight transition board of eight. About his role in choosing Cabinet officers, McLarty will say only, "I was privileged to participate."

Such discretion may serve McLarty well in one of the world's most stressful jobs. Late last week, departing White House chief of staff James Baker telephoned McLarty. "He called with congratulations," said McLarty, "and we talked about how maybe both congratulations and condolences were in order."

With reporting by Ratu Kamlani/New York