When James Webb beat Senator Allen earlier this year, he was cheered by Virginia Democrats. But one Virginia Republican may also have been quietly smiling as he noted the opening of a previously occupied slot in the 2008 GOP presidential field.

The field had, as of this fall, four major candidates, and a slew of lesser-knowns hoping to break into the first tier. There was Senator McCain of Arizona in the role of the Loyal Party Soldier on his Second Time Around (an often-winning role played by Governor Reagan in 1980, Vice President Bush in 1988, and Senator Dole of Kansas in 1996), Mayor Giuliani as the National Hero (General Dwight Eisenhower in 1952 and General Colin Powell’s brief pre-1996 buzz), Mitt Romney of Massachusetts as the Reforming Governor (Pete duPont of Delaware in 1988, Lamar Alexander of Tennessee in 1996, and George W. Bush of Texas in 2000), and Mr. Allen had claimed Mr. Authentic Conservative (Senator Goldwater in 1964, Reagan in 1976, Patrick Buchanan in 1992, or Steve Forbes in 1996).

With Mr. Allen out, a who’s who of Republican names from the past have made noises in recent weeks about running, including Frank Keating of Oklahoma and Tommy Thompson of Wisconsin, both former governors, and Newt Gingrich, who served as speaker of the House. But James Gilmore III, who served as governor of Virginia from 1998 to 2002, most explicitly laid claim to the Allen slot, declaring in interviews with the press last Tuesday that he was contemplating a run because the Republican field currently lacked a “committed conservative.”

In a comment to the press that was widely interpreted as a swipe at Mr. Romney, Mr. Gilmore added, “I didn’t run someplace and pretend I was a liberal and run someplace else as a conservative.”

But others in the field aren’t quaking in their boots yet, noting that Mr. Gilmore already has to make up considerable ground.

“I think he underestimates how hard it is to assemble a national political operation of presidential magnitude,” a strategist for one of Mr. Gilmore’s likely rivals said. “If this were a sane business, it would not be too late to do so, but for some reason, this time the clock is so accelerated that I doubt he could put a first-rate team together. It would be hard at the national level and virtually impossible at the state level for the first handful of states.”

Others doubted Mr. Gilmore’s capacity to raise money in a field with established contenders. “The donors are mostly falling into one of the [McCain, Giuliani, and Romney] camps, so that leaves the ‘media darling’ mantle and the ‘grassroots organization’ mantle,” said a veteran of several Republican presidential campaigns, currently working for one of the big three in the Midwest. “I doubt that Gilmore has the charm and charisma to become the former. And he’s starting a bit too late for the latter.”

Mr. Gilmore brings some strengths to the table, including perhaps the most varied and distinguished résumé for a presidential contender since George H.W. Bush — governor, Republican National Committee chairman, chairman of a congressional advisory panel on terrorism and weapons of mass destruction, president of a homeland security think tank, state attorney general, county prosecutor, and Army counterintelligence agent in West Germany.

Yet with all that experience, Mr. Gilmore isn’t well known outside Virginia, and he has rarely been described as a charismatic leader.

Mr. Gilmore was known during his gubernatorial bid for his formal style. A Washington Post profile noted that he “is ribbed even by fellow Republicans for his tendency toward bland, businesslike conversation. When Gilmore was asked in the interview about his image, his campaign consultant, Boyd Marcus, chipped in, ‘You’re not really a boring, stiff guy.'”

Were he to run, Mr. Gilmore might find himself frequently hearing the name “Terri Schiavo,” despite having no direct role in that controversy. In 1998, Mr. Gilmore intervened in a Virginia case strikingly similar to that of the Florida woman whose case became a national debate in early 2005 and eventually spurred congressional intervention.

After a car accident, Kentucky newscaster Hugh Finn emerged in a persistent vegetative state and was taken to a Manassas nursing home. As in the Schiavo case, the victim’s spouse contended that Finn had preferred to die rather than persist in a vegetative state; other members of Finn’s family disagreed. A legal battle ensued over the decision to remove the feeding tube. Days before Finn’s tube was to be removed, Mr. Gilmore announced that the state would appeal the legal decision authorizing the removal of the feeding tube, contending that that the decision amounted to euthanasia. The Virginia Supreme Court rejected the appeal, and Finn died eight days after the feeding tube was removed.

Mr. Gilmore was elected governor in 1997 with 56% of the vote, combining a solid record as the state’s attorney general with a “no car tax” pledge as simple and memorable as George H.W. Bush’s “read my lips, no new taxes.” Mr. Gilmore promised to repeal Virginia’s onerous and unpopular local taxes on vehicles worth up to $20,000. In his first year, the tax was cut by 70% and set to roll back further, but Mr. Gilmore’s successor, Democrat Mark Warner, froze the rates in place.

The lost tax revenue, coupled with the dot-com bust, slowing economic growth, and increasing infrastructure needs in northern Virginia, led to a budget impasse that frustrated voters. By the time Mr. Gilmore was leaving office in 2001, Mr. Warner was able to win by campaigning against the paralysis and bickering in Richmond.

Mr. Gilmore also polished his anti-tax credentials by chairing the National Advisory Commission on Electronic Commerce. He opposed all taxation on the Internet — standing in opposition many other governors who sought to impose sales taxes on goods sold over the Web.

Virginia includes the site of the Pentagon, and while Mr. Gilmore received generally positive remarks for his management of the state after the attacks of September 11, 2001, he was greatly overshadowed by one of his rivals for the nomination. “In this time of need and grief, the New York mayor — through personal presence, an overflowing heart and just the right words — has stepped forward to lead his city from despair to determination,” a Washington Post columnist, Marc Fisher, wrote. “Gov. Jim Gilmore, meanwhile, has been setting up task forces like they’re on special at Price Club.”

Mr. Fisher’s remark may have been a veiled reference to the governor’s formation of a “Shark Attack Task Force” in the first week of September 2001, an initiative that garnered snickers from the local press. Officials from neighboring North Carolina politely declined invitations to join the study. After three months, the task force concluded that the risk of a shark attack off Virginia’s coast was “minuscule” and that “sharks have plenty of food to eat and have not begun preying on humans.”

Yet if Mr. Gilmore jumps into a Republican field of 12 contenders and counting (McCain, Giuliani, Romney, Gingrich, Senators Brownback and Hagel, Governors Mike Huckabee and Pataki, Thompson, Keating, and Reps. Duncan Hunter and Tom Tancredo), experience with shark frenzies may prove useful.