THE CELLULAR DIVIDE

If you want to be a Republican president--and Bill Frist of Tennessee does--there's no better place to be on a Memorial Day weekend than where he was planning to be last Sunday: in Charlotte, N. C., at Lowe's Motor Speedway, waving a green flag as honorary starter of the Coca-Cola 600. For Frist, a product of prep school, Princeton and Harvard, it was the ultimate twofer, a chance for a senator and surgeon to bond with NASCAR and the Bible Belt. But it will take more than flag-waving for Frist, the Senate majority leader, to steer his way through this Congress--let alone from the Capitol to the White House. He's navigating a high-speed obstacle course, and roadblocks ahead include more controversial judicial nominations, perhaps a U.S. Supreme Court vacancy, and the newest, arguably most politically dangerous of all: the emotionally freighted, divisive issue of federal funding for stem-cell research.

It's no easy thing being majority leader in any circumstances, but especially now, especially for Frist. On two key issues--judicial appointments and the nomination of John Bolton to be ambassador to the United Nations--he appeared to have lost control of the Senate last week as deals were made without him and votes cast that he did not expect. In the process, Frist was reminded that the Senate floor is not an operating room--where orders are reflexively followed--and that launching a White House campaign from his position is like trying to pitch a tent on the summit of Mount Washington: the spot is prominent, but the winds are howling. They're even louder now, as science and faith clash over the question of who should control the genetic heritage and destiny of mankind. A doctor and elected official, Frist is ideally positioned to understand the issues--but is also buffeted in the middle of the debate. Some wonder if Frist is up to the challenge. "Conservatives are angry at what they see as ineptitude," said Richard Viguerie, a leader of the faith-based conservative movement. "It doesn't seem that he can run the place."

There were doubts about that last week. On Monday evening, Frist was up-armoring for war at the very moment peace was breaking out elsewhere on Capitol Hill. He delivered a grave, Ike-on-D-Day speech, declaring his intent to launch a parliamentary maneuver that, in turn, would plunge the Senate into partisan paralysis. The goal, Frist said, was a worthy one: a rules change ensuring that none of George Bush's judicial nominees--including what might be a series of Supreme Court picks--could be debated to death by Democratic filibusters. Frist had a personal goal, too: to be the Can-Do Guy to conservatives, especially religious ones, who decry a "runaway judiciary" and look to Bush and Frist to rein it in.

But even as Frist was speaking, a bipartisan Rump Parliament of moderates was fashioning a deal that would make the majority leader look more like a buck private than a five-star general. Hunkered down in Sen. John McCain's office, seven Republicans and seven Democrats--a critical mass able to control the floor--agreed that Bush should be guaranteed up-or-down votes on three of his most controversial picks. In return, Democrats promised to filibuster only in "extraordinary circumstances" and Republicans pledged to block Frist's doomsday move. On their way to crow in the Radio and Television Gallery, Republicans in --the "Gang of 14" stopped by to brief Frist, who'd known of past discussions, but not the final details of this one. They presented Frist with a copy of the signed agreement, then hustled out to greet the cameras. Frist kept his cool, but could not fail to notice that the leader of the gang was McCain of Arizona, a likely rival for the 2008 GOP presidential nomination.

Of course Frist has the White House on his mind, too, and the Democrats know it. "If they see you are running for president, and you're a credible candidate, they'll try to put sand in your gears," said Bob Dole, the former GOP majority leader. (McCain, Dole added with a chuckle, has "lots of sand.") Undercut early in the week by GOP moderates, Frist was humiliated three days later by Senate Democratic leaders. They had assured him of help in shutting off debate on another of Bush's must-have nominations: Bolton for the United Nations. But when the roll call arrived, a mere three Democrats joined in, leaving Frist three votes short of the 60 he needed to end the talkathon. In a chamber where the leader is supposed to wire the vote, Frist had gone to the floor with only a vague hope of victory. At one point he sat in the corner of the chamber chatting with staffers, as if eager to ignore what was going on.

Frist and his allies are hoping things will run more smoothly when Congress returns next week. Indeed, several of Bush's judicial picks are expected to come up for consideration. By crowing about their Bolton "filibuster," Democrats may have given the GOP an excuse to decry "obstructionism." White House aides were shopping around a GOP poll claiming to show that Americans want "up-or-down votes" on judges. GOP vote counters say they can win a rules showdown if and when it comes; they say that they had 51 votes in hand when the "gang" intervened. Hard-liners want a vote on the so-called nuclear option in hopes of making it easier to confirm whomever the president might propose for the Supreme Court.