Inside the hotel lobby, a small group of Latino Schwarzenegger delegates sat around a coffee table discussing the race. Jim Lopez, a stocky, middle-aged man from rural Kern County, asserted that, contrary to the prevailing wisdom, many Mexican-Americans side with conservatives on immigration issues. "My parents came in this country the right way," Lopez said. "The Mexicans now are coming in wanting to take over this country. What do you want to become? A Third World country?" As his friends nodded in agreement, he continued with a joke: "You know why Mexico doesn't field an Olympic team? Because anybody who can run, jump or swim is already in the U.S."

While Schwarzenegger and McClintock are in apparent agreement on immigration, many of McClintock's most ardent supporters at the convention were driven by their opposition to abortion and gay rights. They demonstrated little patience for Schwarzenegger's appeals for party unity. "The first thing I look at is if a candidate's pro-life," remarked Bob Liepert, a 50-year-old McClintock delegate from suburban Torrance. "If any pro-lifer knew the facts about Arnold, they wouldn't vote for him." Earlier in the parking lot, two anti-abortion protesters carrying a huge poster of an aborted fetus that looked like a baby lathered in marinara sauce heckled Schwarzegger supporters, leaving his speech shouting, "Arnold Schwarzenegger supports the butchering of human beings!"

The likelihood that McClintock and his devoted band of zealots will wage their struggle to the bitter end worries the party insiders who manufactured the recall, and it was apparent in the grim faces they wore throughout the day. Among them at the convention was state Sen. Jim Brulte, who features on his Web site a quote by top White House advisor Karl Rove calling him the White House's "political brains and insightful wizard in California." In July, before the recall had qualified as a ballot measure, Brulte was accused by Democrats of wielding his power in Sacramento to stall a compromise on Davis' budget proposal at Rove's behest, a tactic designed to humiliate the governor and ratchet up support for the recall. During the day at the convention, Brulte was dogged by reporters about White House involvement in the recall.

"The president speaks for the White House and it's up to the people of California to decide," he told a small group of reporters -- not exactly a denial. But Brulte displayed unusual candor when asked if he was concerned that the recall would fail for the Republicans, replying: "In the days leading up to the qualification, I was concerned that the people that began the recall didn't plan it out carefully enough."

By early afternoon, most of the people Brulte was referring to had gathered on the convention floor in the hotel's dank basement. Many of them were close to arch-conservative U.S. Rep. Darrell Issa, who bankrolled the recall push with $1.7 million of his personal fortune to open the door for his gubernatorial campaign. When Schwarzenegger unexpectedly declared his candidacy in August, Issa's aspirations were crushed and he tearfully pulled out of the race. But despite this apparent back stab, according to James Lacy, a council member from Dana Point in staunchly Republican Orange County who served as treasurer during Issa's abbreviated gubernatorial campaign, Issa "would like one of the candidates to drop out" and is willing to back Schwarzenegger in such an event.

Standing in a nearby corridor was Assembly member Ray Haynes, the minority whip whose influence over his Republican colleagues in Sacramento and stalwart cultural conservatism have cast him as California's version of U.S. Rep. Tom DeLay, the Texas Republican who keeps an iron grip over the House. In March, long before the recall was known to the public, Haynes met with Issa and convinced him to fund the effort. Before going to Issa, though, Haynes sought the help of Schwarzenegger, who brushed him off. This prompted Haynes to tell online news magazine CNSNews.com: "I will be blunt: If Arnold wanted to run for governor through the recall, Arnold should have helped the recall."

But now Haynes, who is a close friend of McClintock's, is forced to swallow his pride and marshal support for Schwarzenegger among party activists. "Arnold will be a benign governor," Haynes told me. "But Gray Davis is a warrior against us [conservatives]. At least Arnold will give us time to regroup.

"Tom's a great man but I'm not sure he can do it," Haynes added, citing McClintock's relative shortage of funding. "Tom is convinced he can win. With that knowledge, it would be my job to convince the conservatives that they should get the governor's office first ... If Tom costs Republicans the race it will be a blow for conservatives like me that will be hard to recover from."

Moments before Schwarzenegger's luncheon address, a harried-looking Issa and a group of his operatives rushed past a long line of delegates waiting for the address and slipped behind a phalanx of security guards, disappearing into a backroom.

Certainly it's possible that Monday's appellate court decision could help the GOP. Perhaps, if the vote is delayed until March, McClintock would drop out for lack of funds, or perhaps Schwarzenegger will fade and McClintock will emerge as the most credible Republican candidate. More likely, though, the worst is yet to come for California Republicans. If the fight drags on, the GOP's divisive factionalism will likely be compounded and agonizingly prolonged. If current opinion trends continue, anti-recall forces could close the gap; voters might simply weary of the contest. It seems that the Republicans, through their clever manipulation, have created their very own doomsday machine.

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