Steelman hasn't been afraid to trust her gut

"I used to look forward to his phone calls," she jokes.

Gone are the days when Steelman would wait for an update on how things were going at college or a regular check in from her oldest son.

Sam Steelman is now his mother's deputy campaign manager in her bid for U.S. Senate, so calls are more often about scheduling, strategy or the latest issue that the campaign needs to address.

"I take this very seriously," he said. "I try to push my mother. I want her to win."

In the Republican primary, Sarah Steelman, 54, faces six-term Congressman Todd Akin of Wildwood and St. Louis businessman John Brunner. The winner will square off against Democratic U.S. Sen. Claire McCaskill in November.

Much of Steelman's life has revolved around politics and family.

Steelman's husband, David, is a prominent lawyer in Rolla who served as state House minority floor leader and narrowly lost a 1992 bid for attorney general to Democrat and now-governor Jay Nixon.

Sarah Steelman, of Rolla, jumped into the political arena with a successful bid for the state Senate in 1998, ousting the incumbent Democrat. She won election as state treasurer in 2004 and ran unsuccessfully for the GOP nomination for governor in 2008.

Steelman brushes off suggestions that her husband is somehow behind her political career.

"I would say it's sexist," she said. More importantly, "it's just flat-out wrong," she said. "I'm calling the shots and always have been."

But family is an important part of her campaign.

In addition to Sam Steelman's role, the youngest of Steelman's three sons, Michael, has also caught the political fever, speaking at events to promote his mother and endorsing her via a YouTube video.

Her middle son, Joe, also appeared in the video and, in a way, served as the last push she needed before she decided to run.

On the day of Joe's graduation from the University of Chicago, Steelman saw her son cry. He didn't have a job yet and was becoming frustrated at the prospect of postgraduate life without an income.

"He was terrified," she said. "It broke my heart to see him that way."

She said she soon realized that there would be thousands of other young people facing the same predicament.

"The mother instinct in me says, 'I'm going to do something about this,'" she said.

If there is one thing people can agree on when it comes to Steelman, it's that she isn't afraid to follow her gut, so the reaction was hardly surprising to those who know her.

"She's just fearless — unlike almost anybody I've ever seen," said Jeff Roe, a Kansas City-based political consultant who has worked with Steelman in past elections but said he was not affiliated with the Senate campaign. "She's got a spine of steel."

Steelman resolve has, at times, been shown in clashes with leaders of her own party.

In the state Legislature, she fought the party by opposing some aspects of civil court reform — a key priority for the GOP. She also was among the first to speak against efforts to provide state aid for the Cardinals' new baseball stadium in St. Louis.

Perhaps the most public example of her renegade reputation was in 2008, when she rejected party calls to drop her bid for governor. Most of the party establishment backed then-U.S. Rep. Kenny Hulshof of Columbia. Lt. Gov. Peter Kinder, for one, withdrew his candidacy to make way for Hulshof.

Steelman refused and ended up losing a bruising primary to Hulshof, who was beaten decisively by Democrat Jay Nixon in the general election.

This time around, Steelman's candidacy fits into a popular political archetype: the candidate who is going to 'shake things up."

She wants to ban earmarks. She supports term limits (and will impose a self-limit of two terms, if elected). She favors national legislation that would allow workers to opt out of unions, and she wants to eliminate congressional pensions.

In the state Senate, she pushed for the elimination of state lawmakers' pensions. She points out that when she was there, she didn't take one of Missouri's coveted specialized license plates.

"That sets you apart from the people," she explains. "I never thought it was right."

Many of her talking points align with populist ideals and would sound familiar to regular viewers of Fox News.

"She was like Sarah Palin before it was cool," Roe said.

Former state Sen. Chuck Gross of St. Charles sat beside Steelman during her final term in the chamber. While they are both Republicans, he said, they didn't always agree on the issues — particularly those that pitted Steelman's rural district's needs against Gross' more urban priorities.

"She would be smiling the whole time, but it didn't mean she was about to back down on what she believed," he said.

Gross said Steelman managed to temper her loner image by often working with people she disagreed with on other issues.

"She has her principles, but that doesn't mean she's not willing to listen and talk," Gross said. "She's not an ideologue."

Despite her tendency to buck the party, Steelman has garnered a slew of endorsements from Republicans in the Legislature, including House Speaker Steven Tilley, her campaign chairman.

But Steelman prefers to say she's an everyday Missourian.

She's an avid runner. She buys the family groceries. When she visits Jefferson City, she runs errands for her parents, who she said encouraged robust debates and discussions around the dinner table when she was growing up.

"I'm a working mom," Steelman said. "I've been working since I was 14 years old."

Whether it's all enough to help her in the Aug. 7 primary remains to be seen.

Her performances in debates have drawn criticism. At times her answers appear hesitant, with pauses and asides. She occasionally peppers her answers with "ums" and "ahs" as she collects her thoughts, and has sometimes slipped — saying "million" instead of "billion," for example, then catching herself in the mistake.

During a televised debate in May, Steelman was asked about her political philosophy — specifically, whether she sees a senator as a delegate who follows the will of the people or a trustee whom constituents entrust to make the right decisions. Steelman's wandering answer invoked the Constitution, the concealed-carry law, the referendum against puppy mills in Missouri and the Senate oath of office.

On another occasion, she was caught on video admitting that she was unfamiliar with the Violence Against Women Act, a key federal anti-domestic violence law, as it was up for reauthorization in the Senate earlier this year.

It also remains unclear whether she will grow a campaign coffer that stacks up to her rivals'. Her reported contributions have lagged behind Brunner's and Akin's, and Brunner has contributed more than $2 million to his own campaign.

"I've had to go out and raise money one Missourian at a time," she said, though she loaned her campaign $400,000 last year.

Though she has faltered in big-crowd settings and debates, her supporters say the missteps don't reflect the Steelman they know.

"What impressed me initially — and still does today — is that she is very smart when it comes to economic issues," said Gross, who like Steelman holds an economics degree from the University of Missouri-Columbia. "I felt kind of a kindred spirit with her because I love economics and she does, too."

Like her supporters, Steelman herself is quick to brush off any criticism.

"I think the voters can see through all of that," she said. "If they know that I'm genuine, sincere and honest — that's what they're looking for."

She said Democratic operatives followed her to many events. Earlier this year, Steelman was caught on video saying she was "ready to punch Claire McCaskill out."

She said the video caught an innocent exchange with a vendor who had painted "Steelman for Senate" on her forearm at a Tea Party event. Steelman said the woman had asked her to pose for a photo, so she flexed her arm and made a joke. Even retelling the story, she laughs at the attention it drew.

"They're just trying to take a sound bite and make you look bad," she said. "I'm interested in having a more thorough discussion. I think a little bit of that is lost in Washington these days."