TENNESSEE WALTZ

By DAN GOODGAME WASHINGTON

LAMAR ALEXANDER HAD JUST CONCLUDED a six-city campaign swing through Iowa last Wednesday and was reworking the speech he was to deliver the next morning in Austin, Texas, home state of one of his toughest rivals for the Republican presidential nomination. Huddled with a pair of top aides, Alexander suggested a new introduction: "I've come here today to announce my support for Phil Gramm ... [long pause] ... for re-election to the U.S. Senate." The three men had scarcely stopped laughing when Alexander's cellular phone began to chirp. The caller was Ross Perot, who complimented Alexander on his just announced candidacy: "Keep on going, Lamar. You seem to have a lot of 'em worried." Alexander asked, "Do you have any advice for me?" Responded Perot: "Naw, you keep on just bein' Lamar."

If imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, Perot has cause to feel proud of Alexander's campaign. The former Tennessee Governor, positioning himself as the lone "outsider" in the race, is waging a Perot-inspired crusade to dismantle large chunks of the Federal Government, which he decries as "the arrogant empire." Alexander would shut down the Education Department, which he ran under President Bush, and would turn its functions and funding back to the states. He would turn back $200 billion in federal programs, including welfare and most of Medicaid, law enforcement and job training. He implores Congress to cut its pay in half and return home for six months a year to work at "real" jobs.

It adds up to the most radical program of any serious candidate for President. Alexander is well equipped to sell it. He is statesmanlike and disciplined; charming and even tempered-everything, in short, that Perot is not. Republican theorist Bill Kristol calls Alexander "a gentler, saner Perot" who can run against Washington without scaring voters. Alexander too offers what Dole and Gramm cannot: executive experience, as a two-term Governor who improved the schools and roads of his state while attracting huge auto plants that created thousands of high-paying jobs.

But Alexander can't compete effectively for Republican primary votes by "just bein' Lamar." His image is that of a thoughtful, well-mannered millionaire-which he is. His record and reputation are those of a pragmatic centrist. And all those qualities smell unpleasantly of George Bush to the red-meat conservative voters who dominate the G.O.P.'s crucial early contests. As a result, Alexander has shifted sharply to the right on issues of special interest to conservatives-from abortion to affirmative action. He announced his candidacy last week wearing the red-and-black plaid flannel shirt that became his trademark when he walked 1,022 miles across Tennessee during his first successful campaign for Governor, in 1978. And over the summer, he drove his red Ford Explorer 8,500 miles across the country, meeting with typical Americans, often staying up late to discuss their concerns and sleeping overnight in their homes.

One of the lesser-known stops was at the Chesapeake, Virginia, office of a not-so-average American named Ralph Reed, executive director of the politically potent Christian Coalition. Reed later told TIME that he considers Alexander "pro-life" because the former Governor believes that Roe v. Wade, the Supreme Court's abortion-rights decision, was "wrongly decided.'' Reed added that he is encouraged that Alexander's position on abortion "has evolved even further toward ours" since their meeting last summer. At that time, Alexander held that Washington should neither restrict abortion nor subsidize it through Medicaid. Since then, he has added that he supports the right of states to restrict abortions.

Alexander's views have "evolved" to the right on several other issues. He did not, for example, call for abolishing the Department of Education when he was running it for President Bush. Instead, he energetically used the department to promote the President's agenda and his own.

When he was named Education Secretary, Alexander defended the use of race-based scholarships, saying they "helped minority students who were poor to get a college education." Now, however, he says "race-based scholarships are wrong"-a line that drew strong applause as he campaigned last week. Bill Bennett, who served as Education Secretary for President Reagan, says he asked Alexander "why he changed on affirmative action and some of these other things. He explained that he has now had more experience and has had a chance to think things through. I don't think it's opportunistic. "

Andrew Lamar Alexander grew up in Maryville, Tennessee, south of Knoxville, beside the Great Smoky Mountains National Park. His father, a school principal, and his mother, who ran a private nursery school, believed that their son and two daughters should be busy every waking hour. Thus young Lamar had a library card from age three and piano lessons from age four. In high school Lamar played basketball, tennis-and trombone in the band. He was elected governor of Boys State, where, according to childhood friend Ann Furrow, "he was the only one who got off the bus with his campaign signs already painted." They read LET'S GO FAR . . . WITH LAMAR! At Vanderbilt University, Alexander edited the student paper, writing editorials in favor of desegregation-a position rejected by the student body in a referendum. After law school at New York University, Alexander clerked for a federal judge in New Orleans-and moonlighted in a jazz band on Bourbon Street.

Following a stint in Washington working for his mentor, Senator Howard Baker, and for the Nixon White House, Alexander returned to Tennessee to launch his political career. He lost his first bid for Governor in 1974 but prevailed four years later, after heeding advice to walk all over Tennessee on foot, meeting voters and hearing their concerns. As Governor, Alexander took on the teachers' union to enact merit pay for teachers and other education reforms-all financed by a 1-c- hike in the sales tax. Alexander also raised fuel taxes to expand Tennessee's interstate highways without federal help.

From 1978 until 1991, when he became President Bush's Secretary of Education, Alexander increased his net worth at least tenfold, to somewhere between $1.5 million and $3 million. During that time, he spent all but 18 months in public office as Governor and president of the University of Tennessee. He and his wife made quick profits, with little money down, in investments offered by political backers and men who did business with the state. While he was Governor in 1981, Alexander joined a group of investors who obtained an option to buy the Knoxville Journal. Alexander put up $1, and when the paper was later sold to the Gannett chain, he received stock and options worth $620,000. Alexander holds that he did nothing wrong. But his opponents are sure to question his finances.

Alexander's rivals have expressed concern about what they call his "stealth campaign." For the past two years, he has built quiet inroads among Republican activists in 500 cities nationwide through a monthly cable-TV show called The Republican Neighborhood Meeting. Meanwhile, Alexander has assembled an impressive campaign and fund-raising staff, including six of the past eight Republican national finance chairmen.

The next challenge will be to keep his message fresh. His gibe at Congress--"Cut their pay and send them home"--lost much of its punch when Republicans took over the House and Senate in January. Says Charlie Black, a senior adviser to Gramm: "While Lamar is out talking about turning federal programs back to the states, his two principal competitors are in the Senate actually doing it." Black adds, "'I don't work in Washington' is an address, not a message.''

--With reporting by Jackson Baker/Maryville

With reporting by JACKSON BAKER/MARYVILLE