On Halloween, Larry Wheeler scooted into his office at the North Carolina Museum of Art while unsuspecting members of the museum foundation board finished lunch. As the board dug into chocolate shells of pumpkin mousse, he returned phone calls and poked through his mail. He didn't act like a man about to make the most dramatic pitch of his career.

Wheeler wasn't nervous. He simply wondered what the board, whose members raise money for the museum, might think. For two years, he had talked up an addition. Architects had been hired, drawings finished, fund-raising started. Now, Wheeler had a new idea: one that might cost $100 million.

Smiling comfortably, he made his way to the head of the long oak table. Wheeler looked dapper as usual. His thick, black glasses set off his silvery hair. A red tie splashed color against his standard white shirt and dark suit.

The big idea, he said, not wasting a second, is a new museum.

New museum? Susan Hudson's jaw dropped. Hudson, a longtime board member from Wilson, also felt delight. She had always disliked the building, which had begun as a grand design and been scaled back until its yellowish brick walls resembled a bunker.

"I know what you're thinking," Wheeler said. "What about our building?"

It fit perfectly, he said, into his plan to create a museum campus. Outside, bike trails, art installations and walking paths would nestle onto the 165-acre site. Inside, the collection would be displayed in an architectural gem on the hill bordering Blue Ridge Road. The old museum would be reinvented as a center for schoolkids and experimental, technology-based artists.

For a moment, nobody spoke. In some boardrooms, that would be a bad sign. Not here. This board had grown used to Wheeler's pulling off the unexpected, whether blockbuster shows or legislative coups. Not only had he solidified the once shaky standing of the museum, but he had also brought politicians and business leaders into the fold through charm, political acumen and sheer will. He was the godfather of the Triangle's cultural boom.

So what do you think, Wheeler asked.

Again, no words. Only applause.

North Carolina has seen figures like Larry Wheeler before, leaders determined to shape the state. Traditionally, these have been men of industry (Hugh McColl), education (Bill Friday) or politics (Jim Hunt). Wheeler, more than anyone in the Triangle, represents a new North Carolina. His vision merges the worlds of arts, politics and commerce into a potent cultural force. In the past five years, the museum, under his direction, has helped define the arts as industry.

A series of public-private partnerships has spent more than $150 million on the new North Carolina Museum of Natural Sciences, Exploris and the BTI Center for the Performing Arts. Audiences have embraced the growing scene, which has been strengthened by the DoubleTake Documentary Film Festival, the Carolina Ballet and a host of live theater companies.

Playing the game

A week after the meeting, Wheeler flew to Washington to see Iris Cantor, the California collector whose Rodin sculptures were the heart of the museum's big show. The White House was honoring her for lending work for its garden.

That morning, Wheeler visited the East Building of the National Gallery. This was his candy store, the 20th century art he loved. Pollocks. Motherwells. Rothkos. Though he had never taken an art history course, Wheeler had soaked up years of conversations with curators and private collectors. He knew what he liked. Color. Adventure. A feeling that what he saw on the canvas reflected the now.

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