This Family's Circle Is Va. Politics
Boyd and Karen Marcus Both Do Key Jobs for Gov.-Elect James S. Gilmore III
By R.H. Melton
Washington Post Staff Writer
Tuesday, January 13, 1998; Page B01
M. Boyd Marcus Jr. and Karen Marcus are, for now, a hot power couple here -- he the closest confidant of Gov.-elect James S. Gilmore III, she a key arbiter of who gets the plush seats and best viewing angles for a week-long gala that culminates with Gilmore's swearing-in ceremonies on Saturday.
Their roles have been 20 years in the making. Both have toiled long -- and in relative obscurity -- for Republican and conservative causes and politicians. Married since 1986, they have endured a commuter relationship, separations because of campaign schedules and now, the hectic, grab-meals-on-the-fly drill of getting their old chum Gilmore inaugurated.
For Boyd Marcus, 45, there is something extra-special to savor as he prepares to be the new governor's chief of staff and top political adviser. "It is a great feeling to see all the things we have accomplished," he said. "Our party was out for so long, we learned how to do things right."
Marcus enjoys a near-legendary reputation as a GOP operative, feared even by fellow Republicans for his ferocious zeal at grass-roots organizing and his punchy direct-mail campaigns.
"If you run for statewide office in Virginia, the first thing you do is find out who he's working for," said Dick Leggitt, a Gilmore adviser and longtime strategist for GOP politicians in the state.
Former state attorney general and Marcus client J. Marshall Coleman, who came from behind to win the three-way Republican primary for governor in 1989, described him today as the Wayne Gretzky of state politics. "He can anticipate where the puck's going to go, three moves down the ice. He's plainly one of the more savvy ones, definitely part of the A-Team."
Since the 1970s, when he and Gilmore were Young Republicans together at the University of Virginia, Marcus has had a hand in a string of major Republican campaigns, which are notoriously bloody affairs, given the warring factions of the Virginia GOP.
His resume includes the 1980 election of Rep. Thomas J. Bliley Jr., who rose to Commerce Committee chairman; the 1985 governor's race; state Senate races here and there; the 1989 governor's race, which Coleman lost in a squeaker to Democrat L. Douglas Wilder, and a couple of U.S. Senate efforts.
If Gilmore was the father of the proposed car-tax rollback that proved decisive in last year's race for governor, then Marcus was, as Leggitt puts it, the midwife, carefully massaging a steady stream of poll numbers that showed broad support for repeal of the tax. The car-tax gambit was classic Marcus: one hand firmly on the pulse of the voters, the other nudging and stroking his candidate along.
Marcus has great gut instincts. Leggitt, who did television commercials for Gilmore, once tried to recreate on film an episode in which a Prince William County woman and her baby daughter had their car towed for failing to pay the car tax. The actresses were in place during the shoot, and to Leggitt's joy, a thunderstorm blew up, with plenty of lightning to make the scene even more ominous.
"Boyd didn't much like it, so he ran it by a focus group," Leggitt recalled. "Sure enough, they hated it. They just didn't believe it, particularly the women."
The Leesburg native also is a painstaking planner. For the first debate in the 1989 primary, Marcus effectively stacked the audience on Virginia's Eastern Shore with dozens of cheering Coleman partisans -- whom he had bused in from Richmond.
Marcus's relentless quest to win elections rubs some the wrong way, including others in the GOP. U.S. Sen. John W. Warner (R) once dubbed Marcus the "Dark Prince" of the state GOP; he was only half-joking.
Joan Girone, a real estate agent who was active in suburban Richmond politics, recalled Marcus's tough approach in defeating her in the 1980 primary for Congress.
"Boyd Marcus will win at any cost, even if it's with bad policy like getting rid of the car tax," Girone said. "But he continues to win and continues to make money, which is life in the big world."
"He's a ground-pounder," added longtime GOP activist Mike Salster. "There are no funny stories about Boyd, just stories about the ground-pounder."
Friends say that in private Marcus shows a witty sense of humor, and few have heard him raise his voice even in the heat of a campaign. Karen Marcus is much more expressive and has a lower boiling point, say those who know the couple well.
"She yells at me, and I am a tolerant person," her husband said, smiling about their marriage.
From his office here, Karen Marcus has presided over the barely organized chaos that is a Virginia inauguration, with parties, luncheons, balls, parades and historic reenactments in nearly every corner of the state. Not to mention all those thank-you notes.
"It's been worse than the campaign -- a nightmare in little details," she said with a sigh the other night, recalling how she managed last year to pick up their son, Trip (Mahlon Boyd Marcus III) from school and how Boyd made it home most nights for supper.
Boyd Marcus's immediate concern is dealing with the General Assembly, where Democrats already are flustered by his peeling off two of their number to join Gilmore's administration.
For years, Marcus has kept on his office wall the famous quote from Shakespeare's "Julius Caesar": "Cry `Havoc!' and let slip the dogs of war." This winter's legislative session has the potential to turn ugly, as Republicans try to break a century of Democratic dominance. But Marcus said he will try to remain philosophical.
"You get tired of politics every once in a while," he said, "because it's not always fun.
"But it's been mostly fun."
© Copyright 1998 The Washington Post Company
