UNLIKELY VILLAIN IN N.M. DEBATE ON LEGALIZING DRUG

These days, it seems, they're lining up to give New Mexico Gov. Gary
Johnson an earful: Barry R. McCaffrey, the national drug czar, has called
him irresponsible and his ideas dangerous.

The local sheriff the other day called Johnson an "idiot" and suggested he
check himself into a mental hospital. But the sharpest lash was applied by
the middle school cheerleading squad from the town of Bernalillo, which
recently boycotted an event with Johnson. The youngsters said they could
not, in good conscience, wave pompoms in support of an adult who advocated
drug use.

Johnson is a second-term Republican in a state that, under his watch, has
led the nation in per capita drug-induced deaths. Even so, he can't fathom
why his call for the legalization of all illicit drugs, including heroin,
is causing such a fuss.

He's not clear why, when he told a group of high school students that his
experiences smoking marijuana were "cool," there was something of a
backlash. And about his assertion that the drug war has been one of the
biggest policy failures in national history--doesn't everyone know that?

Johnson's effort to open a dialogue on national drug policy has been an
overwhelming success--if screaming and name-calling somehow can advance
intelligent debate. Since he began to call for the legalization of drugs a
few months ago, Johnson's message about controlling, regulating and taxing
drugs has been drowned out by those who claim the 46-year-old governor is
sending New Mexico's youth to hell in a handbasket and is single-handedly
deflating the morale of his state's peace officers.

But instead of running from the firestorm, Johnson is on the advance. He's
planned at least 50 speeches on the topic and has agreed to debate the
Albuquerque district attorney.

His provocative views have found fans in at least one political quarter:
The Libertarian Party launched a campaign to draft Johnson as a
presidential candidate. He was flattered but declined.

"My belief is that the truth will prevail," said Johnson, who's created a
slogan: Just say know. "I am going to be totally vindicated on this by
history."

Johnson, who is married and a father of two, is an unlikely villain in a
debate about drugs.

While he's admitted to experimenting with cocaine and maintaining a serious
marijuana habit while in college, he quit drugs after graduating and gave
up drinking alcohol 12 years ago.

In fact, Johnson is such a model health nut that he made a bet with state
executives to swear off junk food two years ago. Everyone put in $100 a
month. The twin temptations of sugar and fat have whittled the bettors down
to two: The smart money is on Johnson.

The tall, lean governor is also an athlete. He scampers up high peaks and
rides his bike around the state to promote trash cleanups. Last month, he
was in Hawaii competing in the Ironman Triathlon, where he swam 2.4 miles
in the Pacific Ocean, rode a bike for 112 miles through lava fields and ran
a marathon.

Johnson's personal best of 10 hours, 39 minutes and 16 seconds placed him
582nd out of 1,470 competitors and 18th in his age group.

Some critics, however, say that Johnson's athletic exploits have
outstripped his accomplishments in office.

The unknown-but-successful businessman turned governor has had a prickly
relationship with the Democratic-led Legislature. In his first term,
Johnson's veto stamp came thudding down on more than half the bills that
crossed his desk.

Two years ago, Johnson vetoed a welfare reform bill that he said was not
tough enough and implemented his own program. He was found in contempt of
court when he refused to dismantle the program and the court ordered the
former welfare system to be reinstated.

He had run afoul of the court before when he chose to sign gaming compacts
with New Mexico's Indian tribes over state lawmakers' objections, a move
the New Mexico Supreme Court ruled illegal. Johnson's reply: So what.
Citing federal gaming laws, Johnson and the Legislature finally came to
terms and the compacts were ratified.

"Gov. Johnson is a very independent-minded person," said John Dendahl,
chairman of the New Mexico Republican Party, tiptoeing around the topic of
the governor's hardheadedness. "When it gets down to the final out, Gary
takes his own counsel and does what he decides is the best thing to do."

His second term has been no less rancorous.

"In his first term, he hardly communicated with the Legislature, work was
at a standstill and we almost didn't get a budget," said Chris Garcia, a
political scientist at the University of New Mexico. "Now they communicate.
Once in a while they say something nice to each other, but not very often."

Johnson seems to feed off the criticism. In a recent interview at a radio
station here, he tilted back in his chair, teetering like a schoolboy, his
speech animated.

"I love the job I have, I love it!" he said. "This is blood-boiling from
sunup to sundown. Man, I wouldn't trade it."

So it's surprising when Johnson says he plans to leave politics altogether
after his term ends in 2002. As proof of his sincerity, Johnson points out
that he never would have championed legalizing heroin if he aspired to
remain in public office.

The governor doesn't rule out continuing his crusade from the private
sector, and even some Republicans--who are outnumbered 2 to 1 in the state
by Democrats--believe that's just the proper place for the outspoken Johnson.

"We know there is no muzzling Gary," said Dendahl, adding that Republicans
in the Legislature were "frankly, kind of appalled" by Johnson's views.
"He's been a very energizing influence and a great asset to our party, but
as long as he continues to raise the drug issue, it may deflect attention
from other important issues."

His GOP colleagues "wish I would hush up," Johnson said, "and the Democrats
wish I would hush up. Nobody wants to deal with the issue."

When Johnson met with Republican leaders here in June and, during a quiet
lunch, announced that he wanted to open debate on legalizing drugs, they
practically gagged on their salads. The reaction was one indication that he
would go through a rocky period of being misunderstood or cast as taking a
pro-drug stance.

Sure enough, when the governor bluntly states that he wants to legalize
heroin, his audiences are usually so stunned that they seldom hear what
follows: that he believes drugs are a crutch, that he's convinced that
legalization would reduce both drug use and abuse.

No one seems to hear when he cites statistics that suggest health problems
associated with drug abuse would plummet, as would crime. Jails would be
emptied of first-time pot smokers and repacked with hard-core criminals
once police were free to deal with "real" crime, he says.

The governor knows he's lost the sound-bite battle, but he vows to win the
war.

"I owe it to myself to be true in this job. I would just die a thousand
deaths if 10 years from now I'm sitting around reading an article about
somebody raising the drug issue like I am today.

I couldn't imagine myself saying: 'Yeah, that was something I should have
done because I believed in it, but I didn't have the guts.' "