Christian Coalition: Missing in Action?

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With that victory came a measure of complacency among evangelical voters. At the same time, Christian right operatives, once outsiders, were being integrated into the political establishment.

"When you are entrenched in the institutions, who needs the Christian Coalition?" says Green.

With that political evolution, however, came a sobering dose of political reality. Christian conservatives did not see the payoff that Robertson had been holding out to them in exchange for their efforts.

"All of the stated objectives of the religious right -- from ending abortion to cleaning up television to restoring family life -- have not been advanced one iota," says Cal Thomas, the columnist whose 1999 book, "Blinded by Might," criticized his fellow religious conservatives for selling their souls for political influence.

But the main reason for the political decline of religious conservative power, critics say, is the decline of the Christian Coalition, whose troubles can be laid at Robertson's feet.

The first signs of trouble started emerging early last year, when news reports revealed the vaunted lobby -- which in 1996 claimed 2.8 million members and a $26.5 million annual budget -- was $2.5 million in debt and had strong affiliates in only seven states, not 48 as once claimed.

The names of thousands of dead people were being kept on the rolls to inflate membership figures, and when journalists visited the Virginia headquarters, coalition officials hired temporary workers and leapfrogged them ahead of the observers to give the appearance of a busy office.

Also in 1999, the Internal Revenue Service denied the Christian Coalition's efforts to win tax-exempt status, saying it worked on behalf of the Republican Party.

Many observers initially traced the start of the decline to the defection of Robertson's savvy lieutenant, Ralph Reed, in 1997 to become a political consultant.

For some, the loss of Reed's expertise wasn't as critical as the opening that his departure made for Robertson, who could not resist the temptation to reassert control.

He wrote a million-dollar check to help the coalition out of a growing money squeeze, but then he insisted on editing and directing a major fund-raising campaign that bombed, as aides told him it would. It cost the organization a half-million dollars and was indicative of how badly the Christian Coalition's fund-raising machine was broken.

Meanwhile, the two men hired to replace Reed -- Don Hodel, a former Reagan Cabinet officer, and Randy Tate, a former Republican congressman -- were trying to make the coalition more professional and issue-oriented, like the National Rifle Association or the AFL-CIO, and less personality-driven -- the personality being Pat Robertson's.

And Pat Robertson didn't cotton to that.

"He wants to do it on his own," says one former official, who still considers Robertson "brilliant," but flawed. "He is a polarizing figure."

Robertson, who this year turned 70 -- his biblical term limit of three score and 10 years -- appears as fit as ever.

Many people think that if Bush wins on Nov. 7, Robertson could simply declare victory and ride off into the sunset, his 10-year plan a success.

"Assuming that Mr. Bush wins, with his testimony of faith, I think we can say we've done what we set out to do," Robertson says. He speaks with manifest satisfaction, but also softly and plainly; he has no need to boast. To him, the record speaks loud and clear.

Then again, he also knows that a Bush loss could work out just as well, at least for Pat Robertson.

"Sometimes it's more difficult to have a friendly administration than to have an administration with which you are fighting," he says. "Because people go to sleep when they have their friends in office. They figure they've done their job and they can get a little lax.

"Whereas if there's a perceived adversary, then they wake up."

Pat Robertson pauses at the prospect and smiles.