Peace Accord: The House GOP closes ranks.

AS Rep. Jim Talent (R., Mo.) watched election returns from his brother's tavern in St. Louis on November 3, he began to sense a major GOP shakeup. "The disappointing Indiana and Kentucky results came in, and then we didn't win open seats in the South," he says. "By about ten o'clock, I knew there had to be a leadership change."

Around the country, other members of Congress were reaching the same conclusion. They spent the next two days blitzing each other with cell- phone calls. By Thursday, it was clear Newt Gingrich could not keep his job as Speaker-not because anyone had the votes to replace him in the Republican leadership elections scheduled for November 18, but because he couldn't get a majority of the full House in January. Conservative Rep. Matt Salmon (R., Ariz.) had announced that he and six other Republicans would not vote for him under any circumstances. That would have been enough to throw the Speaker's gavel to the Democrats. On Friday, then, Gingrich quit.

The media hardly bothered to contain their glee over Gingrich's departure, and eagerly anticipated the congressional equivalent of a Celebrity Death Match between moderates and conservatives. In fact, Gingrich's peaceful departure, and his rapid and uncontested replacement by Rep. Bob Livingston (R., La.), calmed the House Republicans. Within days, much of the throw-the-bums-out sentiment had dissipated. Although races did emerge for Majority Leader, Conference Chair, and lesser posts, they were waged largely away from the public eye-and incumbents were winning most of them.

AN exception to that rule was Rep. Tom Davis's (R., Va.) challenge to Rep. John Linder (R., Ga.), the head of the National Republican Congressional Committee. But even that race was no Republican bloodbath. Neither candidate would attack the other. At a meeting of the National Association of Republican Campaign Professionals-at least those willing to be seen in public-on November 10, both gave short speeches and refused to take the bait when the audience asked leading questions. In fact, they heaped praise on each other's fundraising and recruitment abilities. "John Linder is a friend and a very able guy," said Davis, even as he was plotting his very able friend's overthrow.

Livingston can thank his rapid elevation, at least in part, to David Duke. Last February, Livingston was on the verge of announcing his retirement from Congress to seek greener pastures as a lobbyist. When it looked like the former KKK leader might vie for his suburban New Orleans seat, however, Gingrich and others convinced Livingston to seek re-election. He was also intrigued by Gingrich's private intimations about leaving office sometime in 1999 to run for president. Livingston sniffed an opportunity, decided to stick around, and suddenly declared his intention to succeed Gingrich. Within weeks, he claimed to have nearly one hundred Republicans ready to support his candidacy whenever Gingrich stepped aside.

This early start made Livingston all but unbeatable when Gingrich left. The winner in leadership races is often the one who contacts the most colleagues first. A surprising number of votes are won by the first plausible candidate who asks-it's hard to carry a grudge against someone who pledges support on a first come, first served basis. Accurate phone lists are a critical tool in the early hours of a race, so that candidates can reach members at home and make personal contact as quickly as possible. (Some aspirants did not know that they could simply dial "0" and have the Capitol switchboard operator connect them to members at home.) Livingston's spring offensive for Speaker had him set up perfectly.

Livingston's early start wasn't his only advantage. Leadership races look like high school popularity contests: ideology takes a back seat to personal relationships. Familiarity-gained by co-sponsoring a bill, working on a committee, or sharing adjoining gym lockers-is the key. Livingston's position as Appropriations Chairman, perhaps the most powerful job in the House short of Speaker, made him a sugar daddy for every member.

They all wanted to stay in his good graces, and many offered commitments early. Several members had either announced or seriously considered running for the top spot, including Talent, Rep. Bill Archer (R., Tex.), and Rep. Chris Cox (R., Calif.). In a matter of days, however, they had all rallied behind the Appropriations Committee Chairman. Cox quit the race after sitting down with Livingston to compare notes about members' commitments.

Suddenly Republicans were a happy family again. The well-liked and adept Majority Whip Tom DeLay (R., Tex.), the third-ranking Republican, was unopposed. And the second- and fourth-ranking Republicans, Majority Leader Dick Armey (R., Tex.) and Conference Chair John Boehner (R., Ohio), looked much stronger (though Boehner's luck wouldn't last).

Armey's two opponents-Rep. Jennifer Dunn (R., Wash.) and Rep. Steve Largent (R., Okla.)-both offered telegenic charisma in contrast to the Majority Leader's less-polished persona. Largent is a handsome social conservative better known to the public as a Hall-of-Fame wide receiver than a pol. His big drawback was that members view him as a troublemaker. And when Largent told the Washington Times that Armey's scheduling pace had caused as many as 12 members to divorce in the last four years, it suggested that he wasn't ready for prime time.

THE election of Dunn, an economic conservative who mutes her pro- abortion views, was touted as a way to refashion the GOP's white-guy image. As she explained the rationale of her candidacy to USA Today, "I'm a woman." Dunn's letter to colleagues announcing her candidacy shored up her conservative credentials not by talking about issues but by mentioning that she named her son "Reagan." ("We're supposed to support her because of this?" asked an incredulous Hill aide.)

Armey stayed off camera and out of the newspapers as Dunn and Largent raced onto CNN, where their public campaigning would annoy many of their colleagues. Despite constant complaints about the Majority Leader-his controversial role in 1997's botched Speaker coup, his close ties to Gingrich since then-Armey maintains a deep well of support among conservatives both in and out of Congress. Also, he was viewed as an ideological check on Livingston's process-oriented management style. He was the first choice of many members, and the second choice of enough others. By the weekend before the vote, Dunn supporters weren't returning phone calls-apparently depressed over their candidate's poor showing.

Armey's win was bad news for Boehner, even though both men agreed to support each other. Boehner faced the GOP's only black member of Congress, Rep. J. C. Watts (Okla.). Many Republicans did not want to be seen as blocking the ambitions of both a woman and a black. Boehner came under criticism for failing to develop and promote a coherent message for the party, while Watts is viewed as an up-and-comer who gave the best speech at the 1996 GOP convention. "This is a communications job," said one member. "Who could possibly vote against J. C. Watts?" Watts's victory reflected no ideological battle within the caucus, and was unlikely to cause any lingering resentments.

Hard as it may be for outsiders to fathom, Republican spirits have lifted since the election. Even members critical of Livingston's spender-in-chief proclivities as head of the Appropriations Committee believe he can bring order to a place that has not seen much of it lately. Livingston is giving conservatives reason for their hope: He says his first bill as Speaker, HR-1, will take Social Security off budget, a move that immediately wipes out the Federal Government's phony surplus-perhaps making it easier for Republicans to argue for fiscal conservatism, even though it also hurts the chances for tax cuts.

But don't expect the Republican cease-fire to last. Everyone knows that a handful of mavericks can hold the agenda hostage in a Republican caucus with only a six-seat advantage. Republicans are going to have to decide if they want to spend two years fighting each other-or fighting the Democrats.