Unanswer Man

McClellan, a Methodist, is reading Rick Warren's bestseller, "The Purpose-Driven Life."

He was a varsity tennis player at the University of Texas, often wakes -- at 5 a.m. -- to a BBC radio broadcast, then switches to NPR, then alternates between news radio and country music for the 15-minute commute to work in his Chevy Tahoe.

From the podium, McClellan will often bring up his "close relationship" with the reporters who cover the White House. He keeps talking about the "trust" he's established and how they know each other "very well."

"I think this is an example of Scott talking in code," Gregory says.

Saying that Rove and Libby "assured me they were not involved" is different from saying "Rove and Libby were not involved," says Fitzwater. "Assured me" is a classic construction among spokesmen, he says.

"That's a signal that most press members can get. The press secretary vouches for the president every day. He does not vouch for the staff."

Ka-Blam! No Comment.

Several White House reporters say that as much as McClellan is liked personally, the administration has left him with no meaningful freedom from the podium beyond jackhammering that day's message and providing mundane updates. ("The president had a good discussion with a group of Senate Democrats and Republicans earlier today.") It has diminished the daily briefing to a playacting spectacle in which he recites lines while reporters play the part of exasperated inquisitors.

"He's a hostage to the message they put out," says Julie Mason, the White House reporter for the Houston Chronicle.

"The fate of a press secretary is always tied to events," says Mary Matalin, a White House adviser. "They're not good or bad on their own. By definition they are constrained to what the message is. It's such a limited lane, you can't strut your stuff there. But in such a limited lane, Scott is perfect."

McClellan was cautious from an early age. His mother, Carole Keeton Strayhorn, was a three-term mayor of Austin whose youngest son "went from diapers to shaving working on my campaigns," she says. As free-speaking as her son is tight-lipped, Strayhorn instilled in her four boys a sense that their transgressions could easily become public. "I remember my mom saying to me that what your friends do is one thing, but what you do could be on the front page of the paper," McClellan says.

Strayhorn says that her son required stitches many times as a child -- tree-climbing accidents, falls onto concrete and whatnot. And not once did she see him cry.

"I think he had eight stitch jobs before 2," Strayhorn says. "In this day and age, they'd probably call me an abusive mom," she continues, adding -- for the record -- that she is "not an abusive mom."

Strayhorn, now the Texas comptroller and a candidate for governor, describes her son as "one of the most focused people on Earth" and tells this story: McClellan once returned home after playing tennis and started telling her about his match when a fuse blew and the house went dark. But he kept talking, on-message, as if nothing had happened. "We were like, 'Uh, Scott, haven't you noticed that every light in the house just went off?' "

After graduating from UT, McClellan immersed himself in the family realm, Texas politics. (His brother Mark McClellan also works in the Bush administration, as head of the Centers for Medicare and Medicaid Services.) He ran three of his mother's campaigns for statewide office. Karen Hughes, who was communications director for Bush when he was governor, took notice of McClellan and made him a deputy communications director. He would eventually go to work as the traveling press secretary for Bush's presidential campaign in 2000.

McClellan's parents divorced when Scott was 10. His father, Barr McClellan -- who now resides in Buffalo and whom Scott says he speaks to infrequently -- published a book in 2003 claiming that Lyndon Johnson was behind the assassination of John F. Kennedy.

"I'm wondering if you agree with your father," McClellan was asked during one briefing in 2003.

"Thank you for the opportunity," McClellan replied. "But I'm not going to have any comment on it. Thanks."

* * *

As McClellan is leaving the Occidental, the maitre d' urges "Mr. Secretary" to tell "Mr. Bush" that he's doing a great job. Bush is in Minneapolis on this day, and McClellan is heading back to his office, assuring the reporter he just ate with that he said more than he usually does. It's not clear what exactly.

"I think I talked about how badly I wanted to talk about it," McClellan says by phone a few days later, referring to the thing he can't talk about.