To see Rep. Patrick McHenry (R-N.C.) in the full glory of a Capitol Hill press conference is a lesson in brashness.

Standing with nine lawmakers in the House Radio and TV Gallery, he's neatly dressed in a dark suit, navy-blue striped tie and spectacles that make him look serious. He bounces on the heels of his black Oxfords in giddy anticipation of the event's start. His fellow congressmen, gathered onstage in a half-moon shape, peer down at their notably shorter associate as though they are the grown-ups and he's a Cub Scout. Virginia Foxx (R-N.C.), who strolls in late, is a savior: She's the only one who's a few inches shorter than McHenry, and she's wearing flats.

McHenry's colleagues remain behind him in solidarity. With knitted brows, he takes the podium to attack the incoming Democratic leadership and his nemesis, Speaker-elect Nancy Pelosi (D-Calif.), even before she assumes her historic role.

A couple of things are striking. At 31, McHenry is the youngest member of Congress and he is already going gray. To his initial fright, salt began to creep into his peppery locks at age 15. It's in the McHenry genes. Secondly, the second-term lawmaker exudes a confidence befitting a lawmaker with two or three times his experience. He easily takes charge, even stepping in front of the GOP's Chief Deputy Whip Eric Cantor (R-Va.) at last week's press conference.

After members articulate their support of McHenry's Minority Bill of Rights, which takes Pelosi's language from a 2004 letter she sent then-Speaker Dennis Hastert (R-Ill.) on legislative fairness, many try to introduce whoever is set to follow. McHenry isn't having it. At several points, he pushes his way back to the podium to introduce each speaker himself. When question-and-answer time arrives, he returns yet again to the podium, even though Cantor, clearly outranking him, is already there.

McHenry yearns to be a leader, and colleagues respect him for his bold stances against Pelosi and the Democrats. Yesterday morning Minority Leader Roy Blunt (R-Mo.) named him a deputy whip.

"Inch for inch, he's the most pugnacious person in Congress," says Rep. Steve King (R-Iowa), who was among the lawmakers at the press conference, said. King said he appreciates McHenry for standing up and fighting when no one else will.

Rep. Louie Gohmert (R-Texas) seconds the notion: "In terms of spunk, he's one of the tallest members who ever served."

Even Rep. Dennis Kucinich (D-Ohio) appreciates McHenry's hard-charging qualities. "Solid, bright, has a sense of purpose," the liberal, peace-loving Democrat observes. "I like him. You don't have to agree with someone to give an assessment of his skills. Obviously I don't agree with his characterization of Nancy Pelosi."

But, says Kucinich, "I would have no difficulty working with him and I look forward to working with him because I think he'll be here as long as he wants to be."

In the two years that McHenry has served in Congress, he has never spoken with Pelosi. With all the criticism he casts her way, it is astonishing the two never have met.

Pelosi does not appear bothered by anything McHenry does. "She learned at a very young age the importance of having thick skin," says spokesman Drew Hammill.

Perhaps it's best they haven't met, considering the procession of anti-Pelosi press releases that flow out of his office. Some are on the nasty side, such as one about House Majority Leader Steny Hoyer's (D-Md.) victory over Rep. John Murtha (D-Pa.).

"Hoyer winning is a slap in Pelosi's face - and I must confess it makes me smile," McHenry says in it. "The race for majority leader revealed what we should come to expect from Speaker Pelosi's tenure - infighting, intrigue and incompetence."

McHenry doesn't believe his releases are mean-spirited. "I'm not a mean person," he says, grinning. "I try to go to church every Sunday."

In case she doesn't already know it, McHenry is a promised thorn in Pelosi's side for the next two years or as long as it takes for Republicans to regain the House.

"I truly believe Nancy Pelosi's liberal agenda will harm the country," he says. "Pelosi's style is combative and inflammatory."

As for his own combative style, he reasons, "It needs to be done."

The lawmaker insists he's not a GOP villain. Unlike other hotheads among the rank-and-file, he says his leadership has never suggested he tone down his speech. "It's not that I'm an angry warrior," he says. "I'm a smiling fighter."

Rep. Jack Kingston (R-Ga.) explains the phenomenon of the firecracker who doesn't get scolded. He insists they exist on both sides of the aisle; young members who come to Congress are free - almost encouraged - to stir things up. He cites Reps. Debbie Wasserman Schultz (D-Fla.) and Tim Ryan (D-Ohio) as the Democrats' attack dogs. "Both sides have members from real safe seats who can be used as battering rams," Kingston says. "It's a quick way to move up the party and show everyone your fearlessness."

McHenry, who lives in Cherryville, is an anti-Washington politician. He recalls a middle-class upbringing as the youngest of five children in Gastonia, "a small town where people are nice and they look out for each other." He says it's pleasant to go home "after a week in Washington where everyone is looking for an angle."

His father, who died in 2000, was a wrapping-paper salesman who bought Dixie Lawn Service. McHenry and his brothers grew up working in the business; the congressman spent the summer after fifth grade sweeping garages and picking up trash.

There was wisdom in all this hard labor: "My dad told me he was going to make me do lots of physical labor so I would want an education," he says, adding that his dream in those days was to find a job in an air-conditioned office.

Two high-school history teachers piqued McHenry's interest in politics, but he was not much of a student. During his college days at North Carolina State, studying was not his focus.

"Do not let classes interrupt your fun," he says. "I was an underachiever."

McHenry devoted some time to the College Republicans. He became national treasurer and moved home with his parents in his junior year to attend a private Catholic college and concentrate on political work.

In the summer of 1996, McHenry interned for then-House Majority Leader Dick Armey (R-Texas). That year he also worked opposition research for the gubernatorial campaign of then-state Rep. Robin Hayes (R-N.C.), now a member of Congress. During the campaign, recalls his roommate at the time, Dee Stewart, McHenry would stay up all night reading history books. "Every book he reads, he reads with a pencil and he underlines," says Stewart, who was later McHenry's campaign consultant. In 2000, McHenry worked as national youth director for the Bush campaign.

At 23 he ran for the state legislature and lost. At 26 he ran again and won. He was 29 when he came to Congress.

McHenry accepts loss as he does his short stature - he doesn't let it get him down. He says he doesn't actually know how tall he is. "When you're my height you don't measure how tall you are," he says. "What good does it do? I don't care." The shortness, like his gray hair, is in his DNA - or half of the helix, anyway. His mother was 4 feet 11 inches tall; his father, 6-foot-4.

A lengthy chat with McHenry at his Cannon office is full of surprises. No longer in anti-Pelosi press conference mode, the congressman relaxes and regales his audience with amusing stories of his childhood and road to politics.

A few such youthful stories touch on the congressman's fearlessness - or foolishness, depending on your perspective. He broke his leg twice, and admits that at least the second accident was entirely his fault: "I tried to push a chopping block over that was bigger than me."

His fearless streak came into play again at an eighth-grade party. Within 10 to 15 minutes of arriving, he was rushed to the emergency room for 10 stitches under his eye.

Wanting to impress a girl, he had jumped onto a trampoline and did a flip and a half. "I didn't really intend to do the half," he says, laughing.

McHenry hit his head on a bar, "all the girls freaked out," and the edge of a spring snagged him.

McHenry clearly went too far with his tumbling. But will he go too far with his anti-Pelosi rhetoric? So far he and his GOP colleagues think he can't go far enough.