Can Va.'s Davis Team Divorce Themselves From Politics?

When Connolly faced Devolites Davis in the 1990s, "she was inexperienced," the Democrat said. "The sum total of her community experience had been as a Girl Scout leader. But Tom groomed her and counseled her and helped her, and she became a very skilled, articulate public official."

In a video produced during the 1997 election, Devolites Davis appeared in her family kitchen with her four daughters and then-husband, John A. Devolites. Sprinkled throughout is footage of her with students, Girl Scouts and senior citizens. At the end, she strolls with Davis along a sidewalk, and then it is just Davis, speaking to the camera, averring what an "extraordinary" delegate his acolyte would make. (He also testified to her "deep faith in families," a declaration that later became the subject of some ridicule on the blogosphere.)

Most friends and associates of the Davises won't talk openly about when the romance began. Tom and his first wife, Peggy Davis, a Fairfax County gynecologist who, by most accounts, despised politics, were divorced in the fall of 2003, just a few months before the new couple declared their plans to wed.

"Jeannemarie is Tom's perfect soul mate," said Baise. "Peggy was not. I think everybody sort of sees that. They live, breathe and love the action."

John and Jeannemarie Devolites filed for divorce in 2000 but remained united as parents. They appeared together in court in 2002, when their daughter, Ashley, then 20, was sentenced to a nine-year prison term for her role in a series of armed robberies in Fairfax City.

After their wedding, the new Davises moved quickly to forge a marriage that seemed inseparable from their public life. They did joint speaking engagements and campaign events. They scheduled a vacation once with a return date timed so both could attend the Vienna Day Fourth of July Parade -- and later bragged about it to friends. During Virginia's winter legislative sessions, the Davises started a tradition of reserving Mondays for "date night." He would meet her at the Capitol in Richmond, say hello to their Republican colleagues, and have dinner alone with her before heading north for the busy week on Capitol Hill.

"They seem infatuated with each other," said Del. Thomas Davis Rust (R-Fairfax), also a Davis recruit to state politics. "He is the congressman, he is the more influential, powerful person. But" -- and Rust chuckled here -- "she treats him as her husband, if you know what I mean. It's an equal partnership."

Davis often seemed to defer to his wife in public. He hovered near her at the state Capitol. He even agreed to a joint photo session wearing matching light blue shirts and white slacks, his fair hair nearly as coiffed as hers, and their two white Maltese dogs on their laps.

After walking away from his own ambition, Davis used every page in his playbook to save his wife and, at the same time, the Republican majority in the state Senate. He brought in his own seasoned staff and arranged for New York Mayor Michael R. Bloomberg to join Devolites Davis at a campaign event and praise her votes for gun control. As she flashed her white smile and flipped her always-perfect dark hair, her husband watched from the back of the room, his dual roles of doting husband and tactical genius in full effect.

It was a pure Davis move, helping his wife court Democrats in an increasingly left-leaning district and offering Bloomberg the prize of heavy media coverage.

But it wasn't enough.

Davis's investment in his wife's career clearly has come to be about more than politics. But his strategy to mentor as many Republicans as possible has been good for the party. "This is one thing people forget: Tom Davis is one of the biggest reasons why we got the Republican majority eight years ago," said Albo. "He helped devise the strategy. He also raised a ton of money."