he official name is the Northeast GOP Liberty Express, but it's getting to be known as the McCain Train.
It's no secret, after all, that the chartered train cars that left Boston yesterday, carrying New England delegates to the Republican National Convention in Philadelphia, will be bearing the envoys from McCain country.
True, the Bush and McCain camps from most New England states called truces long ago. And true, Jean Inman, McCain chairwoman in Massachusetts, declared that her group is ''going to the convention to nominate Governor Bush.''
But the train will represent four of the seven states the Arizona senator carried in the primaries. And in Massachusetts, the site of McCain's largest primary victory, many delegates wear the McCain banner proudly. John McCain is their patron saint, the only reason some of them got caught up in politics at all.
There are a lot of neophytes aboard this train, people like Brad Stumcke of Falmouth, a Naval Academy classmate of McCain's who went up to New Hampshire for a look-see, and wound up coordinating veterans for the primary. And Louise Callahan, 55, of Reading, a day care center owner who taught her toddlers a McCain fight song.
The primary was thrilling, they said, and McCain's withdrawal from the race stung hard; Callahan couldn't bring herself to turn on a TV for days afterward. So it is no wonder her enthusiasm for Bush seems muted: ''I don't think I'm going to have Bush signs all over my house and lawn like I did for McCain, but I'm for him now.''
That tug of loyalties is just one of the conflicts the Massachusetts delegates will face this week. There's a lingering fight over who got the coveted delegate spots. There is also the uninvited presence of US Senate candidate Jack E. Robinson, who made his way onto the ballot despite being snubbed by Governor Paul Cellucci.
But the fact that Cellucci and other state GOP leaders are firmly in Bush's corner is paying off nicely in perks.
It's tough to be a Republican from the state of the Kennedys, and that has traditionally been clear at convention time, when hotel assignments are a sure sign of status. In San Diego four years ago, the delegation stayed at the Humphrey's Half-Moon Inn and Suites, a motel far from the convention site, with a tropical theme and a mangled goldfish in the lobby. In Philadelphia, the delegates are staying at the swank Wyndham Hotel, just like George W. Bush.
It's all about whom you know. Four years ago, the delegation's top dog was Governor William Weld, who irked the GOP establishment by pushing for an abortion-rights platform. Cellucci, by contrast, climbed on the Bush bandwagon early - starting with the elder George Bush's first presidential bid in 1979 - and bonded with George W. Bush on a 1998 trip to Israel.
He's helped Massachusetts raise $3.8 million for the campaign, will represent Bush on talk shows, and will co-host a lavish street party dubbed ''Carnivale Italiano: A Republican Salute to Italian Americans.''
The delegation also benefits from two high-profile Massachusetts natives: Republican National Committee member Ron Kaufman and convention chairman Andrew Card.
''We've got all kinds of people pulling for us,'' Inman said.
When it comes to unifying the troops, a little luxury doesn't hurt. But there have been a lot of opportunities for harmony. Take the case of delegate Charlie Dolano, 28, of Everett, who volunteered for McCain during the primary season. He stood in for McCain at a debate in Shirley, where state Representative Brad Jones of Reading was representing Bush. Jones learned that Dolano was looking for permanent work - and offered him a job as a legislative aide.
''It's been a good year,'' Dolano said.
Not for everyone, though. Since he declared his intentions last spring, Senate candidate Robinson has found conciliation harder to come by. State GOP leaders dismissed him after learning embarrassing details about his personal life. Then, the secretary of state barred him from the ballot, saying the signatures he collected weren't valid. Robinson finally won an appeal in court this month.
Now, he says he's coming to the convention as a guest of the National Republican Senatorial Committee, to which he is a hefty donor. His press secretary, Tom McCuin, also happens to be a Massachusetts delegate and will bring him to some delegation events.
McCuin said Robinson is eager to mingle with the natives and ''absolutely prepared to let bygones be bygones.''
The convention could be a good opportunity for Robinson to make contacts and money, said GOP consultant Charley Manning. Out-of-state Republicans ''will be really impressed, meeting an attractive, articulate young African-American who's challenging [Edward] Kennedy in Massachusetts,'' Manning said. ''I think a lot of people like that he stuck to it.''
Indeed, Inman said she expects delegates to greet Robinson with open minds and genuine curiosity. But GOP strategist Jim Nuzzo doubts the candidate will get a warm response.
''I think he will be received politely, and that's about it,'' Nuzzo said.
Still, politeness is more than one group of Massachusetts Republicans says it's getting from the state party establishment. The 24 would-be delegates and alternates, mostly longtime party foot soldiers and flat-tax supporters, won convention seats in caucuses this spring. But Inman, who had discretion over delegate selection, ousted them in favor of McCain volunteers.
State and national party leaders have stood behind Inman, saying she followed the rules. The challengers made one last appeal yesterday to a credentials committee, which reached the same conclusion after a close vote. The ousted delegates could have guest passes to the convention, the committee said, but they won't be getting choice rooms in the Wyndham.
But then, not every delegate will be staying there, either. Bill McKinney, 31, of Dedham will be pitching a pup tent at a local Boy Scout camp, as he did in San Diego.
The Wyndham is ''too expensive, and it seems like kind of a waste,'' he said. ''All the activities are going on all around Philadelphia, so the last place you want to be is a hotel.''
Besides, he's got a two-room tent. Sort of like a suite.
