USTIN - Just after 5 a.m. one day in late November, as the first streaks of daylight appeared over the Texas state capitol, the phone rang in the governor's mansion with urgent news for George W. Bush. Campaign chairman Don Evans was on the phone with distressing news: Running mate Dick Cheney had been admitted to the hospital with chest pains.
The conversation lasted less than three minutes before Evans hung up, moving on to call communications director Karen Hughes. Within hours, Bush was meeting with reporters to assure them that the hospitalization was only a precaution. He based his assurances on the conversations he had with Evans and other advisers throughout the morning.
Only later in the day did the truth emerge. Cheney had in fact suffered a heart attack.
Critics quickly pounced on Bush's error, questioning whether his staff was keeping him in the loop. But just as his aides defended Bush for making an honest mistake - ''he's not a doctor,'' one spokesman countered - Bush did not publicly blame his senior advisers for giving him bad information. Instead, he drew them even closer into his circle, relying on them to handle every aspect of the post-election battle that ended last night.
Longtime associates of the Bush family expect nothing less in the George W. Bush administration, where his top four campaign advisers are expected to enjoy the total loyalty of the president and to play critical roles.
While neither Evans nor Hughes is planning to be the public face of the Bush White House, they, along with political strategist Karl Rove and campaign manager Joe Allbaugh, form the foundation of his public life. Together, they make decisions on everything from when he chooses to disclose unpleasant news to how he spends campaign money to which important phone calls he needs to make.
All four advisers would deny having such sway over Bush; they are uncommonly deferential toward their boss, rarely able to concede even a small mistake on his part. Only one - Evans, a longtime friend who is married to a Bush childhood friend - has been known to call him anything other than ''sir'' or ''Governor Bush.'' But they are clearly empowered to make decisions, each in a different realm, after having worked closely with him for years.
The quartet's disdain for outside advice has occasionally bred contempt among GOP operatives in Washington, and the four have suffered personal criticism for certain missteps, from the mishandling of the presidential debate schedule to the decision to limit trips to Florida in the campaign's final days.
At times, the group's confidence in Bush has come across as arrogance, leading even other Republicans to wonder whether Bush's Texas circle is cosmopolitan enough to excel at the national level.
But those who worked most closely with the foursome during the campaign sensed an unusual dynamic. Each adviser played a role that crossed both personal and professional lines, giving them the ability to gauge Bush's mood, make tough calls, and even anticipate his answers, especially in the chaotic days after Nov. 7.
''They are a very strong group,'' said Gerry Parsky, the Bush campaign chairman in California. ''People can criticize the fact the race has been so close, but it will be remarkable that a sitting vice president in good times, with the power of the White House, lost the election. It was an incredibly effective team and campaign.''
Few people thought so after Bush's unexpected New Hampshire primary loss, which prompted a flurry of questions about whether he would reshuffle his staff. Many political operatives awaited the sort of announcement that usually follows such an embarrassing defeat, speculating that Bush would fire Rove, a cunning strategist who did not consider losing an option, or Hughes, who in the days before the primary kept the press at arm's length.
Instead, Bush did the opposite. Calling them together, he announced that not a single senior adviser would be let go, solidifying a group that in several instances has been with him for decades.
When the need arose, Bush has turned to others with more Washington experience, most notably Cheney, a political veteran greatly respected by the GOP establishment. Associates do not doubt that Bush will rely heavily on Cheney and other graduates of his father's White House for national policy guidance.
But Bush places a premium on loyalty, explaining in part his attraction to Evans, 54, a figure whose chief role is often characterized as ''best friend in chief.''
A jovial, good-looking Houston native with a penchant for hugs or friendly slaps on the back, Evans signed on in 1978 for Bush's first political venture, an unsuccessful bid for a seat in the US House.
Evans, a longtime chairman and chief executive of the Denver-based oil company Tom Brown Inc., has raised money for Bush ever since and has represented his friend on Capitol Hill.
The friendship has also had its perks for Evans. Five years ago, Bush appointed him to the Board of Regents at his alma mater, the University of Texas.
Despite some early speculation that Evans might become chief of staff, aides say he is better suited to a supporting role that would leave him with more time available to be close to Bush. ''There is one word to describe him, loyal,'' said an analyst who observed the campaign.
Almost as old a friend is Rove, 49, the guru of the campaign and the man most frequently credited with handling the messier details of politics for Bush. A former head of College Republicans, Rove met Bush while working at the Republican National Committee in the 1970s, then cultivated the friendship after moving to Austin in 1981.
An eccentric, fast-talking political strategist with a passion for historical detail, Rove memorized the electoral map, almost down to the precinct level, an accomplishment he proudly displayed during his rare trips on the campaign trail. But for the most part, he stayed behind the scenes in Austin - or, as some Texas political strategists joked, ''behind the curtain,'' like the Wizard of Oz.
By far the most elusive figure in the Bush inner circle is Allbaugh, the flat-topped campaign manager from Oklahoma who is rarely far from the governor but almost always in the shadows. Perhaps the most influential decision-maker in the campaign - in part because he controlled the budget - Allbaugh is described as an ''inside guy, tremendously loyal'' to Bush since becoming his campaign manager during the 1994 governor's race.
''He may be the least visible guy, but he's the one that makes the trains run on time,'' said Bruce Buchanan, a political scientist at the University of Texas who closely followed the campaign.
The undisputed face of the campaign - and a person certain to become the head of the White House press shop - is Karen Hughes, the tall, forceful communications director who quit her job as a Dallas television reporter in the 1980s to work for the Texas Republican Party.
A tireless spinner with a stage actor's ability to project her voice across a room, Hughes, 43, enjoys unusual access to her boss, helping him devise not just his prose but important policy interpretations. At times, she is his closest adviser, in a personal sense. Described as his alter ego and his ''walking sounding board,'' Hughes can ''think of what he wants to say better than he can,'' one associate said. During the campaign, she frequently mouthed the words to his speeches as he spoke.
Criticized by some for her relentless optimism about her boss, Hughes is uncommonly modest about her role. Asked about the credit the advisers deserve for his victory, she seemed almost taken aback, replying: ''I don't know. It's a funny question.''
But she quickly recovered, crediting Bush with having found the team in the first place.
''I think it says a lot about Governor Bush's strengths as a leader that he is able to recruit good people, he is able to earn their loyalty, and he is able to keep them with him,'' she said. ''That is the hallmark of true leadership, to be able to put together a good team that is united in working for you. He enjoys the loyalty of his staff, and he gives it in return.''
