Scenes from the weekend's state Republican convention:
* HUMOR. J. Marshall Coleman of McLean, stunned like most everyone else -- and hurt -- when he came in second on the balloting for lieutenant governor, showed his characteristic wit moments after conceding the race. What effect, reporters asked, was the loss going to have on his political career now that he had lost for both governor and lieutenant governor?
"It slows my momentum," Coleman said without missing a beat or a step as he headed back to his headquarters.
* HULA. Richard A. Viguerie, the McLean-based direct-mail expert and conservative fund-raiser, took over poolside at the Holiday Inn-Scope one night with hundreds of his supporters, most of them conservative Christian activists. They milled about and enjoyed a lighted-torch dance and hula show. But just so no one thinks it was too much for the audience, all the hula dancers were wearing Bermuda-style shorts underneath.
* HELIUM. What would a convention be without helium balloons? Beneath the cavernous auditorium here, dozens of young supporters of Wyatt B. Durrette, the party's candidate for governor, were having trouble getting down the hallway before their big entrance onto the floor. The low-ceilinged halls, with protruding sprinkler systems and rough walls, snagged and popped many balloons almost as fast as they could be blown up and whisked away.
* HOOPLA. State Del. A.R. (Pete) Giesen Jr. of Augusta County, a long-shot compromise choice for lieutenant governor, had only a few hundred delegates committed to him. He faced the prospect of a very weak floor demonstration on his behalf just minutes after rousing events for ultimate winner, state Sen. John H. Chichester of Fredericksburg, and Marshall, the former attorney general. Solution? Giesen, noting the lateness of the hour, announced he would forgo a demonstration in the interest of weary delegates.
* HANDYMAN. Winston Mathews, the obscure Charles City County attorney who grabbed a surprising one-third of the vote against W.R. (Buster) O'Brien, the party's nominee for attorney general, was pretty much a one-man band here this weekend.
On Thursday before the convention, scores of youthful campaigns aides were poised outside the doors of the Scope arena, set for the5 p.m. dash to put up thousands of campaign posters. Among them was Mathews, a few dozen posters in hand, virtually alone as he made his own sweep around the hallways.
* HOPELESS. Earlier, Coleman's 11-year-old son Billy dashed into the Coleman headquarters, eyes wide and dispair in this voice. He'd just witnessed the dazzling red, white and blue light show, complete with Beethoven's Third Symphony, that heralded Viguerie's nomination for lieutenant governor. "They killed us in there!" he screamed, grabbing his father's coattails. "It's all over."
* HELPMATES. Neither Durrette, Chichester nor O'Brien seemed to be able to go anywhere without extolling the family values and introducing their wives, Cheryn, Karen and Karen, and joking how it sounded like a law firm or a singing group. They got almost as much attention as the candidates, not to mention Durrette's three daughters, Debbie, Dawn and Dea, who also provided backdrops for their father.