ASHLAND, Va. -- Twelve hours and a hundred miles into an "if-it's-Tuesday-it-must-be-Culpeper" tour of Virginia politics, and Oliver North is still standing, still talking.
The 150 mainly middle-aged men and women who have assembled at a country club for the monthly meeting of the Hanover Republican Women's Club sit in utter silence. What they hear is this: the whir of eight ceiling fans and the rising passion of one man reciting from the old-time gospel of conservative theology.
The candidate speaks of school prayer, term limits and a balanced budget amendment. He derides the "permanent political potentates of pork," and he sums up his controversial role in the Iran-contra affair by saying he only wanted to bring honor to "my family, my President, the Marines, the hostages and the freedom fighters."
"No one in the media ever believes it," he adds. "And that drives 'em nuts."
The crowd roars.
Love him or loathe him, Oliver L. North can still play a room. Asking for prayers, votes and money, he is running hard for the Republican nomination for senator in Virginia and aiming for a November showdown with the Democratic incumbent, Charles S. Robb.
The race is in the hand-to-hand stage, a brawl between Mr. North and former Reagan budget director James C. Miller III for a majority of the 14,000 GOP delegates who will convene June 4 at a nominating convention in Richmond.
Mr. North says he has the votes to win the nomination. But he takes nothing for granted. So the man whose fame was built on his electrifying performance under pressure during four days of televised congressional hearings in the summer of 1987 is working the tiny towns, smoky restaurants and small-watt radio stations of Virginia.
A day in the life of the Oliver North campaign is filled with tough talk against liberals "like Chuck Robb," and derisive humor aimed at the media big shots from "The Washington Compost" and the "Jane Fonda Network."
"I carry a copy of the Constitution with me," he says, holding up a small pamphlet. "Dan Rather said I shredded it."
Crowds tend to give him two standing ovations. The first when he enters a room. And the second when he leaves.
"He's going to be nominated, and he's going to win. So you left-leaning media better get on the ball," said Margaret Leet, who organized the women's club event Tuesday.
The former Marine lieutenant colonel is relentless, trading his olive green military uniform for a dark-blue suit and black wing-tipped shoes. But for him, campaigning is just like any other field maneuver.
Tuesday, he cut a swath from the Holiday Inn in Culpepper to Brenda's Restaurant in Richmond to the country club on the outskirts of Ashland. He met his delegates 50, 60 at a time.
In country by 8 a.m. Back home at his Narnia Farm in the Shenandoah Valley before midnight.
For 12 hours, he never stopped running -- or talking.
Cheers for Iran-contra
At 50, he still flashes the same, boyish, gap-toothed grin that once won over a portion of the country, and he has the ability to tell a story three times a day, making it seem fresh and emotional each time. And when the audience is in his corner, he hears cheers every time Iran-contra is mentioned.
"Some of the people caught up in that controversy of 1986-1987 triedsuicide, others tried drugs, others had their families break up or had their lives wrecked," he said during a brief interview between campaign appearances.
"I was taught from the time I was that high that when you get knocked down on your backside you get back up," he said. "Maybe that's why I was a boxer at Annapolis. Maybe why I was a Marine. Probably part of it was genetic, part of it was environmental."
Remember Iran-contra? It lurks over this campaign in the strangest of ways. The words come up, and the crowds that are drawn to Mr. North cheer as if they are reliving a great sports moment.
Mr. North organized the sale of arms to Iran in hopes of freeing Western hostages. Profits from the sale were then funneled to the Nicaraguan contras, despite a congressional ban on military aid to them.
Mr. North went up to Capitol Hill in July 1987, and before the bright lights of television and the stern faces of politicians, he verbally routed his foes. Although he was convicted in federal court of lying to Congress about his role in the scandal, the convictions were overturned on appeal.
Cashing in
So he became free. Free to cash-in on fame with two books and numerous speaking appearances, free to devote his energies to building up a business in law enforcement gear, and free to build his political base with a mailing list that is the envy of any conservative politician.
"This race is not a referendum on Iran-contra," Mr. North says over and over.
So far, it is difficult to decipher what this Virginia Senate campaign is about.
The Republican race is centered on two men with nearly identical po- litical views -- rock-ribbed conservatism. So at this point it is largely a race of personality and Mr. North's past.
Mr. North and Mr. Miller engaged in a weeklong debate on mental health early on in the campaign. The issue: Which candidate was more mentally stable? Was it Mr. North, who admitted to a 22-day stay in a psychiatric unit 20 years ago after experiencing marital problems, or was it Mr. Miller, who brought up the issue but then admitted that he had also seen a psychiatrist for a mood disorder.
"Ollie isn't nuts," Mr. Miller said, announcing a truce.
Mr. North has other problems. Former President Ronald Reagan chastised him in a letter, saying he was "pretty steamed" after Mr. Northclaimed his ex-boss knew of the secret diversion of cash to the contras.
Virginia's other senator, Republican John W. Warner, has called on Mr. North to pull out of the race.
But Mr. North presses on.
The Democrats also have problems. In a letter to supporters, Mr. Robb acknowledged attending 1980s beach parties at which drugs were used and admitted behavior that was "not appropriate for a married man."
Mr. Robb's nemesis, former Gov. L. Douglas Wilder, has also done nothing to stamp out talk that he may enter the race as an independent.
In this atmosphere, anything and everything is possible.
Tom Clancy fund-raiser
And when it comes to fund-raising, nobody can touch Mr. North. As of March 31, his stash was $4.5 million, more than 80 percent of the funds pouring in from out of state. And next week he has another major fund-raiser scheduled at the Maryland home of Tom Clancy, the best-selling spy author.
But it is up close and personal where Mr. North may be the most effective campaigner in the race. At the breakfast in Culpepper, he signed a combat helmet one moment, engaged in prayer the next, and then defended Virginians' right to bear arms.
"I'm happy to hear someone talk about family values, integrity, honor and patriotism," said Sally Durocher, a Culpepper resident who plans to attend the state GOP convention for the first time.
When Josephine Clopton greeted Mr. North at the lunch in Richmond, she began to cry, holding up an oil portrait she painted of Mr. North, in Marine uniform, taking on the Congress in the summer of 1987.
"Thank you m'am," Mr. North said, signing the portrait.
"They were going on and he was answering 'em and he was looking at 'em in amazement, looking at those congressmen and wondering how stupid they were," she said. "He laid his life on the line."
At the Hanover Republican Women's Club dinner, Mr. North received a tumultuous welcome from the audience, many of whom wore giant GOP elephant pins.
"Biggest crowd we've had yet," said Mrs. Leet, the organizer of the affair.
"We had 40 people come in and listen to Miller. For this one, I had to turn away 40 people."
Mr. North gave the crowd exactly what it wanted. He ripped President Clinton, Ted Kennedy and arrogant Washington politicians. He even took a jab at the United Nations, receiving sustained applause when he said, "No American blood should be shed for the U.N."
And then, running late, tired and hoarse, he stood near the kitchen for nearly an hour, signed autographs, shook hands, posed for pictures, and then was out the door and into the night, headed to the airport, headed for home.
Another room played.
Another day closer to victory or defeat.