BARRY GOLDWATER: Icon of Political Integrity.

• Author: RENTSCHLER, WILLIAM

The godfather of American conservatism was far from being the right-wing ideologue his critics labeled him.

BARRY GOLDWATER, the rugged, unpredictable godfather of conservatism's rise as a powerful force in America, died May 29, 1998. The plain-spoken Arizonan left an indelible imprint on the nation's political landscape.

Goldwater--a five-term U.S. senator and vanquished Republican presidential candidate in the wake of Pres. John F. Kennedy's assassination and the resulting elevation of Vice Pres. Lyndon B. Johnson--was born in the then tiny village of Phoenix on Jan. 1, 1909, three years before Arizona became the 48th state. A craggy, bronzed prototype of the self-reliant, free-thinking westerner, Goldwater thus lived all but one decade of the 20th century. He will be remembered as a resolute shaper of America's destiny, values, and reigning philosophy, but it will take historians years of intense study to distinguish the "real" Goldwater from the caricature created by the media and his political foes--Democrat and Republican alike--at the time of his presidential run in 1964. Goldwater harkened back to this nation's simpler yesterdays, yet he evolved into a thoroughly contemporary citizen, offering fresh views and uncomplicated good sense day after day until his first mild stroke in September, 1996.

I first met him in 1958; I was perhaps the nation's youngest Goldwater delegate when he ran for president in 1964; and I stayed in close touch in the ensuing years. Goldwater's blunt assessments of national and world leaders, past and present, are especially intriguing. For example, he called British Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher "a helluva gal. She's one of the greatest women who ever lived." Then, in a vintage Goldwater comment, he added, "Too bad she wasn't a man."

In the presidential campaign of 1964, Goldwater was characterized by Johnson and the national media as a wild-eyed, right-wing extremist who would take the nation down a path of nuclear destruction. This led to his annihilation at the polls, even though it was a far cry from the real Goldwater. In his final decade, he was considered by some GOP ideologues to have become a liberal, which caused him to chuckle and defend his conservative underpinnings. This stemmed from his support of a woman's right to choose an abortion, his acceptance of gays in the military, his call for ending the Joint Chiefs of Staff in favor of a single leader of U.S. military forces, and other stands that were unthinkable two or so decades ago.

Goldwater's presidential hopes evaporated with the assassination of Kennedy. "I knew the minute I heard the news that Jack Kennedy was shot I had no chance to be president," he told me. "Jack and I were a good matchup, a real contest. We were good friends, too.... The contrast was perfect. He was Hah-vahd, and I was the new West. He was the darling of the Eastern establishment. I was the hard-nosed, slightly uncouth, I guess you could say, frontier conservative. It would have been a dam good race. Then it was all over...."

Goldwater was a fascinating figure who preached the canons, paved the way, and took the blows for Ronald Reagan. In that 1964 campaign, Reagan, the former actor and TV pitchman for General Electric, got national exposure by articulating the conservative credo as Goldwater's spokesman. Ever the polished orator, he made an impact that upstaged Goldwater and set Reagan on the path to the presidency.

"Were you ahead of your time?," I asked Goldwater.

"Nah, it was the distortions I couldn't overcome. That media bunch put horns on me, made me into a zealot. That's not Barry Goldwater."

When the votes were counted, Goldwater had been buried by Johnson, and the disastrous electoral avalanche left the Republican Party bloodied and almost irrelevant. That would be Goldwater's end, the pundits and some politicians gleefully predicted. After all, the American people and press are notoriously unkind to presidential losers.

Instead, in 1968, he was reelected to the first of three more terms in the Senate, where he assumed increasingly influential roles and gained newfound respect. It was in those years that the patron saint of conservatism began the metamorphosis that carried him away from the rigid ideology of the far fight and led to a more evenhanded, moderate posture. His support for abortion and for gays in the military infuriated the hard right. A confirmed hawk, he raised eyebrows and argued persuasively that abolishing the Joint Chiefs of Staff and reforming the Pentagon would greatly improve the U.S.'s military proficiency and save billions of tax dollars. Even in the face of withering criticism from former allies, he maintained he was still a loyal Re publican and a conservative, making the point that such issues as abortion rights were not conservative or liberal issues at all.

"A lot of so-called conservatives today don't know what the word means," he told me with irritation in his voice. "They think I've turned liberal because I believe a woman has a right to an abortion. Hell, that's up to the pregnant woman, not up to the Pope or some do-gooders or the religious right." Such a statement was in the Goldwater mold: Say what you believe and let the chips fall where they may. Follow your conscience ahead of old partisan loyalties, even if you make some people mad.

Through it all, Goldwater maintained his high standards of bedrock integrity, outspoken candor, earthy wisdom, good sense, and deep devotion to his beloved country. The great influence on his life was JoJo Williams, his tough, slight, unflinching mother, who...