The Virginian-Pilot
                             THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT 
              Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.

DATE: Saturday, February 25, 1995            TAG: 9502250243
SECTION: FRONT                    PAGE: A1   EDITION: FINAL 
SOURCE: BY GREG SCHNEIDER, STAFF WRITER 
DATELINE: RICHMOND                           LENGTH: Long  :  145 lines

DIRECT FROM RICHMOND, IT'S CHIP AND JAY

One quotes Star Trek, the other quotes Shakespeare.

One plays virtual guitar on his computer, the other can belt out Italian opera in a mountain twang.

One is wry and brooding, the other is chipper and full of homespun homilies.

Dels. Jay W. DeBoer and Clifton A. ``Chip'' Woodrum have temperaments as different as, say, Rowan and Martin. But they are the General Assembly's most notorious pair of wits.

As the 1995 General Assembly winds to a close, this duo of Democratic lawyers is having the last laugh: Back when such behavior was considered suicidal, they were criticizing Gov. George F. Allen's now-ruined plans to remake government.

And when DeBoer and Woodrum criticize something, it had better stick. Because their combinations of mouth and brains give them the dubious distinction of being every reporter's favorite State Capitol interview. No matter where in Virginia you live, you've probably seen a DeBoer or Woodrum quote in the news.

DeBoer's trademark is brutal honesty. Last fall, when the legislature was considering Allen's ``Proposal X'' for eliminating parole, DeBoer made a prediction: ``Nothing's going to stop this thing. They could prove tomorrow that Proposal X causes breast cancer and we would still vote overwhelmingly to approve it.''

He was right; the Assembly overwhelmingly approved it. The only delegates to vote against abolishing parole were members of the Legislative Black Caucus and DeBoer and Woodrum.

Woodrum's calling card is colorful flourish. His take on the Allen budget: ``Let me tell you that Cleopatra on her barge on the Nile did not have as many people attending to her as the Cabinet secretaries in the Allen administration.''

DeBoer is from Petersburg, Woodrum from Roanoke. Their offices are side by side in the General Assembly Building. Both are kingpins of the Coffin Corner, the far Democrat end of the House of Delegates that sprouts camel hair sport coats on Wednesdays, yellow ties on Fridays and mischief every day of the week.

When Republicans across the chamber tried to start their own ``Amen Corner'' and began wearing Stars and Stripes ties on Thursdays, Woodrum dragged out something called the American Legion ``Flag Code'' and tried to make a case with the press that the Republicans were desecrating the flag.

When a Republican delegate proposed giving lawmakers a raise, DeBoer stormed over to reporters with his tax forms to show all the benefits and add-ons that already pad legislative salaries.

Both serve on the General Laws Committee, where there are six subcommittees. DeBoer sits on every subcommittee but the one chaired by Woodrum. Woodrum sits on every subcommittee but the one chaired by DeBoer.

The committee chairman ``was trying to break us up,'' DeBoer said. ``We amuse each other. We either amuse each other, or hyper each other into frenzies.''

At the very least, they egg one another into quotes.

The trick is to make the statements short, strong and, especially, humorous.

DeBoer on the governor's plans to relieve prison overcrowding: ``There is no crisis so easily solved as the one you have fabricated yourself.''

Woodrum last winter on Allen's tough inaugural speech: ``Youth is entitled to its hyperbole. . . . The important thing is not to get angry when someone throws a tantrum.''

Each has the same photograph on the wall of his office: DeBoer, Woodrum and another legislator in the classic ``see no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil'' pose. The third legislator has left public office - ``set up his law practice, got married, had kids and he's a normal person. Sometimes I envy him,'' DeBoer said.

Of the two, DeBoer is less the natural politician. His father owned a Petersburg hardware store, which is where DeBoer learned to deal with the public. But at 41, DeBoer remains essentially shy; as comfortable as he is dazzling reporters with fancy quotes, he is less effective speaking on the floor of the House of Delegates. He gets unusually serious, veers into arcane points of law and can be caustic with those who don't grasp his point.

``I apologize to the gentleman,'' he said this week when a delegate rephrased a question, ``for his failure to listen to my earlier explanation.''

DeBoer is more comfortable with his computers - he has a neuron-bending array of CD-ROM games - and his collection of classical and classic rock music (which goes with his comprehensive wardrobe of Beatles neckties). He even has the ultimate credential of the over-cerebral: He won $6,000 on the Jeopardy quiz show in 1986.

DeBoer is one of those brainy types who insist on being contrary in the smallest details of life. When he realized how many other politicians had model ships in their offices, DeBoer got some of his own: a Klingon Bird of Prey and the Borg ship, from ``Star Trek,'' his favorite TV show.

The 56-year-old Woodrum, on the other hand, comes from a long line of politicians; his great-grandfather was the first commonwealth's attorney in Roanoke, and his grandfather was a congressman.

First elected to the Assembly in 1980, Woodrum helped recruit DeBoer to run for office in 1983 and has been a force within the Democratic party his whole career, partly because of his close ties to powerful Majority Leader C. Richard Cranwell.

Woodrum's banjo accent and folksy charm conceal a mind brimming with works of, as he calls it, the Queen's English. Memorized since school days, Woodrum can - and often does - reel off long passages of the likes of Shakespeare, Chaucer and Coleridge.

But his favorite method of communication - and he does it habitually - is the country tale.

This is Woodrum's reply to the stock question of why he got into politics: ``It's kinda like that story Lincoln told. There was this old fella with a long beard, and someone said, `Do you sleep with your beard under the covers or out?' And the old fella said, `I don't know, I never thought about it.' And after that he got to thinking, and he never could sleep anymore because he couldn't stop thinking about it.''

Despite their status as characters, Woodrum and DeBoer are increasingly heavy hitters in their party. Woodrum chaired a subcommittee dealing with the complex issue of opening local telephone service to competition and chairs a standing subcommittee on the powerful Courts of Justice Committee.

DeBoer is one of the legislature's experts on health care law and the Freedom of Information Act; has a coveted seat on the House Finance Committee, which deals with taxation issues; and was the parliamentary whiz who helped engineer the Democratic eyepoke a few weeks back that forced Republicans to vote against their governor's budget proposals.

Both politicians get part of their almost reckless self-assurance from the nature of their constituencies. DeBoer represents a majority black district, which gives him a free hand to target a Republican governor whose budget-cutting and parole abolition policies are detested by many African Americans.

Woodrum represents most of the Democrat-leaning Roanoke inner city, including most of the black population as well as many old-money white Democrats. He, too, is relatively safe spewing verbal grapeshot at a hard-line Republican governor.

But more than that, the two simply share an urge to speak out and a knack for doing it memorably. Woodrum once zinged then-Gov. Gerald Baliles for putting the General Assembly on the spot about paying for a massive transportation program. ``He may be biting the bullet,'' Woodrum wrote in a letter at the time, ``but he's using our teeth to do it.''

Baliles framed the letter along with a Confederate Minie ball, which he presented to Woodrum with the note: ``I've always found that the pen is mightier than the bullet.''

Plus, as Woodrum said: ``Going through life completely deadpan and serious would be very difficult.''

Not to mention unquotable. ILLUSTRATION: Color photo by Beth Bergman, Staff

The wit of Dels. Clifton A. ``Chip'' Woodrum, left, and Jay W.

DeBoer has made them favorites of reporters.

KEYWORDS: PROFILE BIOGRAPHY GENERAL ASSEMBLY by CNB