Southwest sizzle

SANTA FE -- It was open house time in Governor Bill Richardson's office, and the man New Mexicans were calling "Bill" seemed incapable of saying "no."

A state worker came in with his mother, seeking a promotion. Richardson promised to lend a hand. Two rural community leaders told him their water system would need $500,000 to fix. The governor offered them $200,000 on the spot.

In the space of a single hour, Richardson also committed to rewriting the state recycling policy, charged his lawyers with mediating an obscure water-rights dispute, and ordered that a longtime political supporter be placed on a state employment board.

"I want Art on that," the governor said casually to an aide, as he fidgeted with a Perrier cap and swiveled in his seat behind a giant stone table. "Kick somebody off, if necessary."

Now, this swashbuckling Southwestern governor is bringing his outsized, often teasing, and always media-savvy personality to Boston. He may or may not be Senator John F. Kerry's running mate, but Richardson will most definitely serve as chairman of the Democratic National Convention, making his round face one of the most recognizable to viewers when they tune in to the Boston gala.

"I will be all over Boston," Richardson said in an interview in his office. "I'm looking forward to it. I like the personal side of politics, the grass-roots nature. That's why I like [Boston Mayor Thomas M.] Menino a lot -- and my poll numbers are as high as his."

Already, the 56-year-old Richardson is carving out a convention role for himself to fit his persona and his boundless energy. He stationed an aide in Boston months ago to keep tabs on planning, and is conferring with top convention officials by telephone almost daily. He has also been making semiregular trips to Massachusetts, usually timed so he can catch a Red Sox game as well as handle some convention business.

He'll be in town a full week before the convention starts, so he can get settled early, and so he can throw out the first pitch at the all-star game of the Cape Cod League, where he pitched one summer during college. His office is already beginning to juggle requests for media appearances for the convention, which starts July 26. Richardson is making plans to attend numerous convention-week receptions, from Fenway Park to Felt, the downtown nightclub.

One event underscores his other crucial role for Democrats this year: In a nod to his Mexican-American roots, he is helping organize a celebration for Boston's Latino community, scheduled July 24 -- two days before he begins wielding the gavel at the FleetCenter. Richardson, regardless of whether he is selected as vice presidential nominee, is seen by many strategists as key to Democrats' hopes for winning Western states in general, and Latino votes in particular.

Richardson is downplaying the impact he'll have on the convention, saying he ranks below Kerry, top Democratic National Committee officials, and Menino on the decision-making food chain. He and other associates say he is being brought in for advice, for "big picture" aspects surrounding the convention's themes and schedule, and for helping navigate the ferocious mix of egos and interest groups that make up the Democratic Party.

"He will put his stamp on the convention, unquestionably," said Lynn G. Cutler, a veteran Democratic hand who has known Richardson for more than two decades. "He is one of the larger-than-life figures in our party. He will help with all the tense moments."

The convention will be a homecoming for Richardson, who graduated from Tufts University and has taught at Harvard's Kennedy School, and whose wife, Barbara, grew up in Concord. He moved to New Mexico in 1978 and was representing the state in Congress within five years.

After 15 years in the US House, he was named US ambassador to the United Nations by Bill Clinton, and he became the president's energy secretary in 1998. He came back home to run for governor in 2002 and won overwhelmingly in a campaign where he literally set the world handshaking record: 13,392 in eight hours, breaking the Guinness record for politicians previously held by Theodore Roosevelt.

He's been a different kind of governor, not just in his frenetic pace and frequent contact with residents, but in the ways he's sought to bring national attention to his state. He's made trips to Hollywood to pitch New Mexico for movie filming, and launched a state investigation into the death of Billy the Kid, with an eye toward a public trial to determine Billy's fate. "I have to decide whether to pardon him. But not right away -- after the investigation, after the state gets more publicity," Richardson said. "He's not going to be around to react or exact revenge. He's kind of tied up."

Richardson was surrounded by vice presidential buzz four years ago as well, but was somewhat tarred politically by the end of the Clinton administration. Two computer hard drives from Los Alamos National Laboratory disappeared while he was energy secretary, and Kenneth Starr's investigation of Clinton disclosed that he had offered a job to Monica Lewinsky while at the UN.

As he reestablishes himself, Richardson seems to be viewing the convention as dues-paying and image-enhancing for a potential national campaign, either this year or down the line. For all his in-state efforts, he's expending plenty of energy outside New Mexico as well. He's been busily raising money for his political action committee, which is focusing on registering Hispanics in the handful of states where their votes could make the difference this fall.

But it's Richardson's personality that will be most on display this summer at the convention, and it's a style that can be at once startling and disarming. He intentionally mangles the names of aides and people he's just met, to keep them off-guard. He teases close friends about incidents decades old.

"You meet him once, and you'd think you'd known him all your life," said John Baronian, a member of the Tufts board of trustees who met Richardson when the future governor was an undergrad. "You can't help but like him." Richardson insists that he's happy where he is, and often calls his current post "the best job in the world," even though he has a voracious appetite for "veepstakes" gossip these days. He reportedly is among a handful of candidates interviewed by Kerry's team for the running mate slot. Whomever Kerry chooses, Richardson will keep on doing his job and meeting people -- around town and, of course, in his office.

"I'll meet with anybody who wants to meet with me, provided they meet two conditions: only five minutes and they cannot carry a weapon into the meeting," Richardson said.

Rick Klein can be reached at rklein@globe.com