In Texas, The Hammer Runs Into an Anvil

And, Earle says, his pursuit of DeLay has nothing to do with politics -- DeLay's or his own. In the past, he often pointed out that of the 15 politicians his office has indicted since he was first elected in 1976, only three have been Republicans. DeLay makes four. (Of course, through much of Earle's career, few Republicans in Texas held positions of power.)

The 11-term congressman was indicted on a charge of criminally conspiring with two associates to infuse illegal corporate contributions into the 2002 Texas elections that helped Republicans redraw the state's congressional map -- and ultimately bolster the GOP's control of Congress.

It is illegal in Texas to use corporate money in state elections. DeLay helped organize the Texas political committee that collected the corporate contributions, but says he's done nothing wrong. Earle began investigating the contributions after 17 Republicans who received money from the committee were elected, giving the GOP control of the Texas House for the first time in 130 years. The legislature then approved a new congressional map that helped elect five more Republicans to Congress.

To some degree, Earle lends himself to easy caricature as an agenda-driven lefty. His Austin jurisdiction is a liberal outpost within Texas's conservative political culture. Travis County voted decisively against favorite son George W. Bush last year, with 56 percent supporting John Kerry, including Earle.

It doesn't help that Earle is an avid practitioner of yoga, which renders him, to say the least, exotic among Texas politicians -- at least in his willingness to admit it. "Yoga is an antidote to the joint stiffness that accompanies age," explained Earle, who is 63. He and his wife, Twila, have three adult children.

Earle is also an honorary member of Alcoholics Anonymous -- even though he's not an alcoholic. Why? He met many alcoholics while serving as a night court judge, he says. "They invited me to their AA meetings. How could I say no?"

Earle has an eccentric streak, clearly, sometimes in the service of projecting a squeaky-clean image. He once filed charges against himself for submitting a campaign finance report a day late. He asked a judge to fine him, His Honor obliged, and Earle was out $212.

Still, Earle can defy pigeonholing. Buck Wood, an Austin lawyer and friend of Earle's, says the prosecutor is "definitely a moderate," and that he's "not involved in the Democratic Party."

Raised on a cattle ranch in the tiny north Texas town of Birdville, Earle served briefly in the Texas House before being elected district attorney. A self-described "radical moderate," he has faced little serious opposition in his reelection campaigns. This comports with commonly heard descriptions of him -- adjectives such as "maverick," "idealist" and "crusader."

Indeed, Earle is a former Eagle Scout more interested in social policy than in collecting death-penalty convictions. He has taught a course at the University of Texas at Austin on "reweaving the fabric of community." Starting in the mid-1980s, he insisted that some of his prosecutors work in the same building as social workers and police officers in an effort to curb child abuse before it occurred.

And he has never hesitated to use his job as a bully pulpit. In a speech two weeks ago before a state lobbying group, Earle said, "corporate money in politics" has become "the fight of our generation of Americans. . . . It is our job -- our fight -- to rescue democracy from the money that has captured it."

Such pronouncements are typical Earle, says Texas Rep. Terry Keel (R), who served under Earle for nearly nine years before seeking public office himself.