Grin and Bear It

It didn't turn out that way. Thompson wound up losing control of the investigation, and the support of his own party, when the committee turned its attention to Republican campaign abuses as well. Thompson has said he wanted to make sure the inquiry was fair, and not just a Republican hunting party that would be viewed with suspicion by the public. But Republicans thought he was a weak chairman who was outmaneuvered by committee Democrats. The investigation fizzled and eventually shut down; Thompson was a near pariah among some Senate Republicans. Trent Lott was so furious at his friend that he stopped speaking to him. Letters in Thompson's archives show that he put in several requests for a seat on the Senate intelligence committee, but Lott blocked them.

Thompson's popularity among his Republican colleagues took another hit in 1999, when he broke with the party and voted against convicting Clinton on perjury charges during his impeachment trial (he voted for conviction on obstruction of justice). But by then Thompson had one foot out the door. He had long complained that he found Senate life suffocating. "I don't like spending 14- and 16-hour days voting on 'sense of the Senate' resolutions on irrelevant matters," Thompson said in 1998. It was, he said, "very frustrating." He may have wished the Senate spent its time on more-important issues, but Thompson himself didn't have the patience, or the desire, to do the kind of ego stroking and horse trading it takes to get bills to the president's desk. Of the 90 bills he introduced in his eight years as a senator, only four became law.

In January 2002, Thompson's 38-year-old daughter, Betsy, died of an accidental prescription-drug overdose. "He was just bowled over," says Jan Clifton, a longtime friend. "Even as tough as Fred is, it took everything out of him." At the time, Thompson told a friend, Tennessee Rep. Zach Wamp, "I've lost my heart for public service … I've lost my heart." A few weeks later, he announced he wouldn't run for re-election. He was finished with politics for good.

Thompson went back to acting, taking the role of Arthur Branch, the gruff New York City D.A. on "Law & Order." He stayed five seasons, and left the show last spring. At the same time, the ex-senator, who still lived in the capital, kept one foot in official Washington. He remained a part-time lobbyist representing an insurance company looking to limit payouts from asbestos lawsuits. In 2005, George W. Bush tapped Thompson to sherpa John Roberts through Roberts's confirmation hearings as chief justice.

Back home in Tennessee, Howard Baker once again had bigger things in mind for his protégé. Late last year Baker and his Republican friends were casting around for a presidential candidate to back in 2008. None of the contenders impressed them. Sitting at his desk in his law office in Huntsville, Tenn., Baker called Thompson and told him he was going to float his name in GOP circles. Thompson didn't try to stop him.

If Thompson liked the idea of moving into the White House, he soon found that no one was more enthusiastic about it than his second wife, Jeri, whom he'd married in 2002. They met at a barbecue in Nashville in 1996. Not long after, Jeri, who is 24 years younger than Thompson, moved to Washington and they began dating. Though she had little to no political experience, she landed a PR job at the RNC and later worked for the Senate, where she handled press for Republicans, including Thompson. It was Jeri who helped him through two personal trials: Betsy's death and a 2004 cancer scare, when Thompson was diagnosed with non-Hodgkin's lymphoma. He is now in remission. The couple has a 3-year-old daughter and a 10-month-old son.