Obama's Brain Trust

The Obama campaign, like the candidate himself, is paradoxical. The same machine that has given unprecedented control to tens of thousands of volunteers at the grass roots has also set a new benchmark in Democratic politics for tight-lipped, Fortune 500 professionalism at its highest rungs. To use a computing metaphor for the Obama machine: The software may be open-source, but the CPU — humming high above Michigan Avenue — remains, quite literally, a black box.

In many ways, this split is a reflection of Obama himself. In public, Obama comes across as a political Superman who can inspire stadium-size crowds of supporters. But behind the scenes, Obama is as mild-mannered as Clark Kent — and he has built his senior team to reflect his quiet, down-to-business self. "The tone starts at the top," says Jarrett. "When Barack walks into the room, there's never tension. And he wanted to make sure that the team he selected was also drama-free. He wanted to make sure that tone permeated the campaign."

The drama-free approach proved to be in sharp contrast to the Clinton campaign, which was beset by leaks and infighting among factions of overbearing strategists (Mark Penn), know-it-all advisers (Harold Ickes), egotistical flacks (Howard Wolfson) and self-important campaign managers (Patti Solis Doyle) who battled noisily — and publicly — over message, budget, access to the candidate and prestige. From Day One, Obama was determined that his campaign would be different. In the winter of 2007, when senior staffers gathered for one of their first meetings in Chicago, the candidate laid out his expectation. "Most campaigns are chaotic," Obama told them. "I want a campaign that is buttoned up like a business. If people have problems, they work it out. It's not a 'we're gonna work this out on page 2 of The Washington Post.' "

Obama underscored the theme again in June, when he addressed his entire Chicago staff after finally wrapping up the nomination. As he spoke, staffers poked their heads above gray, corporate cubicles in what could easily be mistaken for an E-Trade office rather than a presidential campaign headquarters.

"When I started this campaign," Obama told them, "I wasn't sure that I was going to be the best of candidates. But what I was absolutely positive of was that there was the possibility of creating the best organization. The way great things happen is when people are willing to submerge their own egos and focus on a common task. That's my old organizing mind-set. It's not just a gimmick, it's not just a shtick. I actually believe in it."

The story of how Obama assembled his top advisers — and how he got them to work together as a team — offers a glimpse into his approach as a chief executive who manages an organization of nearly 1,000 employees. Obama has built "an amazingly strong machine," says Jeffrey Sonnenfeld, president of the Chief Executive Leadership Institute at the Yale School of Management. "People expected a more ad hoc, impromptu, entrepreneurial feel to it. It has been more of a well-orchestrated symphony than the jazz combo we expected."

Indeed, in merging the talents of powerful Washington insiders and outside-the-Beltway insurgents, Obama has succeeded at a task that has traditionally eluded Democratic candidates: forging an experienced inner circle who set aside their differences and put the candidate first. "The whole point is that it's not about any of these guys," says longtime GOP strategist Frank Luntz. "They feel blessed. They see it as how lucky they are to be working for this man, at this time, in this election. This is the dream team for the dream candidate. I waited all my life for a Republican Barack Obama. Now he shows up, and he's a Democrat."

Of all the powerful and understated members of Obama's inner circle, the most anonymous, Pete Rouse, may well be the most indispensable. As a candidate, Obama has made a virtue of not being versed in the "ways of Washington." But the first-term senator's audacious leap into presidential politics would not have been possible without the steady guidance of a gruff D.C. fixer with decades of experience on the Hill.