She's a single mom with a thick Texas accent, strawberry blonde hair, a heavenly singing voice, and a style as subtle as a jalapeno. Oh, and one other thing: Domestic-policy chief Margaret La Montagne may be the most important person in the Bush White House you've never heard of.
On White House staff charts, La Montagne is listed alongside Economic Policy Adviser Lawrence B. Lindsey and National Security Adviser Condoleezza Rice, two Washington veterans--and yet she's barely known outside of Texas. In the pantheon of Bush advisers, however, the 43-year-old La Montagne ranks "real close behind Karl [Rove] and [White House Counselor] Karen Hughes," the President's two closest Texas insiders, says a Bush associate.
TOP JOBS. For someone who not so long ago seemed destined for a career as a trade-group rep in Austin, La Montagne has had a fast ride to a West Wing office across from Lindsey and political guru Rove, her friend and mentor. No less heady is her job description, which includes responsibility for developing legislation designed to fulfill some of Bush's main campaign promises. Atop the 2001 agenda: education reform, faith-based programs for social services, a patients' bill of rights, and campaign-finance reform. The focus in 2002 is likely to include the next generation of welfare reform, expanding Head Start to emphasize reading skills, and reforming federal higher-education policy. "We're going to systematically march through our priorities," says La Montagne. "It's real easy to get distracted. When you get distracted, it's easy to become ineffective."
To win passage of the President's ambitious education reform proposal, La Montagne is trying to assemble an eclectic political coalition, ranging from liberals such as Senator Edward M. Kennedy (D-Mass.) and Representative George Miller (D-Calif.) to executives. She's counting on business leaders such as Hewlett-Packard CEO Carly Fiorina, AT&T CEO C. Michael Armstrong, and Texas Instruments CEO Thomas J. Engibous to lobby Congress on behalf of Bush's cherished annual performance tests, something that arouses suspicion among many on the right. "We need an accountability lobby," she says, "and we hope the business community is that." Pressure from La Montagne and education-policy chief Sandy Kress, former head of the Dallas school board, seems to be paying off. Already, the Business Roundtable has pledged to air TV ads promoting testing.
What is la secret of La Montagne's swift success? "She's unbelievably smart and has a fantastic sense of humor," enthuses Rove, who recruited her to be Bush's political director in his 1994 race against Texas Governor Ann W. Richards. "She's a bulldog on detail and a warrior when it comes to getting things done."
Seems that everybody around has a story about La Montagne's Xena, the Warrior Princess style. "The thing you notice first about Margaret is that she's very clear and straight-spoken," says former Texas budget director Albert Hawkins, now Bush's Cabinet secretary. "She'll tell you: `You'd be plumb stupid if you don't do it this way."'
She's plainspoken, but "she's not an ideologue," says Dubravka Romano, who went to Houston's Sharpstown High School with La Montagne and later worked with her at the Texas Association of School Boards. "She wants to do what works. She has great political instincts."
Bush aides say the President is particularly attracted to the wicked wit--and unquestioned loyalty--of the woman he has dubbed La Margarita. "They have a chemistry based on humor," says White House Counsel Al Gonzales, who labored alongside La Montagne on Bush's Texas staff. "He enjoys the banter." More important, Gonzales adds, "he trusts her judgment."
BUSH-BACKED. The domestic-policy czarina knows tough negotiations lie ahead before the Bush agenda is enacted. But she's comfortable cutting deals because she feels confident of her boss's backing. "If I'm in a legislative negotiation with somebody, I know what will fly [with the President] and what won't," she says.
One example of her clout: La Montagne was an early champion of Rod Paige's nomination as Education Secretary. She viewed the Houston school superintendent, an African American reformer popular across party lines, as both a policy expert and a political asset. Bush eventually picked Paige over better-known national figures.
But Washington isn't Austin, and Question No. 1 is whether La Montagne can cut it in the cutthroat capital. La Montagne's new fan, Ted Kennedy, seems optimistic. "She has got a winning combination. She knows the issues, has the President's confidence, and knows how to get things done," he says. But a senior GOP staffer scoffs: "Her approach seems to be, `This is the way we did it in Texas, and it worked there."'
There's no denying La Montagne is 100% Texan. Born in Houston and educated at public schools, she worked for two state representatives--one Democrat and one Republican--in the early 1980s before being tapped by GOP Governor Bill Clements to run a select committee on education. La Montagne later honed her expertise on school issues as governmental-relations director of the Texas school boards association.
After Bush unseated Ann Richards in 1994, he assigned political director La Montagne to implement his top campaign promise: reforming Texas education. She worked across party lines to pass sweeping reforms that emphasized accountability, local control, early-childhood reading skills, and improving student achievement, particularly among minority pupils.
While La Montagne now has a prestigious West Wing address, she still has a lot of Texas cowgirl in her. On a quiet Saturday recently, Rove was showing former President George H.W. Bush around the staff offices when they ran into La Montagne. "Would you have ever contemplated a domestic-policy chief wearing a pair of leather pants--and looking good?" Rove asked Bush Sr. In retrospect, Rove says, La Montagne "probably would have killed me" if Bush the elder hadn't been there.
La Montagne doesn't plan on making weekends at the office a habit. Unlike the Clinton White House, where gold stars were given to staffers who worked into the wee hours of the morning, Bush expects his senior staff to be organized, get their work done, and have a life. "He wants us to make our families a priority," says La Montagne. "He wants single moms and people who are more like America, rather than policy wonks."
If it's a single mom Bush wants, that's La Montagne. Her 8- and 13-year-old girls are living with her ex-husband while they finish up the public school year in Austin, but after that, they will be joining her in Washington. La Montagne stays in daily phone contact with them, and via e-mail, she and her 8-year-old are writing a story about a monster and a little girl who go to Disneyland.
At times, La Montagne has to pinch herself to make sure she isn't in some Fantasyland tale, too: Fortysomething lobbyist signs on with rising political star and ends up as a top White House adviser. "It just goes to show," says La Montagne, sounding vaguely like a lottery winner, "you never know."
By Richard S. Dunham in Washington
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