Usually this kind of testicular fortitude is unleashed on a wayward politico or journalist. But occasionally, in the heat of a presidential campaign, you've got to crack some of the skulls closest to you—especially when those skulls belong to aides boasting to reporters about their tactical brilliance. In the days leading up to the Florida primary in late January, a handful of Romney's top advisers were feeling especially cocky about their chances, and so they decided to crow to _The New York Times, _offering a behind-the-scenes, play-by-play account of how they had carved up the competition.

The Times article was the paper's lead story—page one, top right column—on January 29, and it offered a rare glimpse underneath the hood at the campaign's thrumming engine. Romney was not pleased. When Matt Lauer brought it up a few days later on the_ Today show,_ the governor bristled, "I think you can expect advisers to think that the work of advisers is very, very important."

Fehrnstrom was even more pissed off. By some accounts, he was the aide who deserved the most credit for the campaign's commanding fifteen-point victory in Florida. Just hours before the final pre-primary debate, Fehrnstrom noticed that Newt Gingrich was going after Romney for investing in funds that included shares of Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac. According to one Romney insider, it was Fehrnstrom's idea to dig into Gingrich's own investments in Fannie and Freddie. That night during the debate, Romney used the new info to devastating effect. The _Times _article referred to the moment as "a killer blow," but it made no mention of Fehrnstrom's role in it. Fehrnstrom wasn't sore about being left out of the piece, though. Rather, he was furious that anyone other than Romney got any credit. "He believes we are so lucky to work for a guy like Mitt," one Romney adviser says. Or as Fehrnstrom himself explained to me in an e-mail declining to participate in this article: "I think the hired help shouldn't make themselves the story."

Shortly after the Times piece ran, Fehrnstrom got busy fixing the problem, reserving special ire for the advisers he suspected of planting the story. "That article is not what we do," says the Romney insider, "and Eric feels that more strongly than anyone." A few days later, Romney's debate coach, who figured significantly in the_Times _story, got booted from the campaign. No one has crowed since.

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"Act professionally. Act professionally! Don't be argumentative with the candidate."

It was January of 2008, the last time Romney ran for president, and Fehrnstrom was getting in the face of an Associated Press reporter in a Staples store in South Carolina. The reporter, Glen Johnson, had just challenged Romney during a press conference, interrupting him in the middle of a claim that he didn't have lobbyists working on his campaign—Mitt definitely did—and when the press conference was over, Romney rushed after Johnson to press his case. "Listen to my words, all right? Listen to my words," Romney sputtered, smiling through gritted teeth. That's when Fehrnstrom stepped in and cornered Johnson in front of a Post-it notes display. "You should act a little bit more professionally instead of being argumentative with the candidate," he hissed at Johnson. "It's out of line. You're out of line."

The exchange, which was caught on camera, became a brief YouTube sensation, a rare glimpse at the sort of aggressive press-management tactics that are usually employed over the phone or at a hotel bar rather than out in the open at an office-supplies superstore. But for politicos and journalists back in Boston, the video was mostly a source of amusement. They'd witnessed Fehrnstrom tearing into a reporter on Romney's behalf plenty of times before. But him lecturing someone else about journalism ethics? Now that was rich.