At the Little Rock presidential center, bearing the Clinton torch

She’s a white-headed whirlwind of energy, kissing babies, spinning campaign tales, acting as a stand-in for another white-haired dynamo who kissed babies and spun his own tales.

As she’ll announce proudly: William Jefferson Clinton, 42nd president of the United States.

Just 5 feet 2, resembling the late Texas Gov. Ann Richards minus the big hair, Ann Kamps extends her hand: “Hello there, how can I help you?”

At 64, she’s manager of volunteer and visitor services at the Clinton Presidential Center in this genteel Southern capital — the library, museum and warehouse of all political things Clinton, which draws 300,000 visitors a year.

Around the country he once led, Clinton’s legacy has been substantial. A recent Gallup poll ranked him the nation’s best president — ahead of George Washington and John F. Kennedy — regardless of the unsavory episodes, including a liaison with a White House intern and subsequent impeachment.

Here in Arkansas, there is a decidedly mixed view. Clinton is either a favorite son who did the state proud or a rogue who disgraced the Oval Office and brought shame to the Natural State.

Either way, the Clinton name is stamped upon this city like a political cattle brand. President Clinton Avenue runs along the Arkansas River in the posh River Market district. The airport, a school and a library bear the family name.

Kamps, who supervises 300 center volunteers, falls in the category of those who bear the Clinton torch.

“In this center, we represent Bill Clinton,” she says in a Clintonesque drawl. “If we’re not friendly and outgoing, people won’t really feel his presidency.”

Kamps often stands in as guide for any of the three daily public tours, displaying a warmth and panache usually associated with the silver-haired Southern Democrat.

Kamps, who grew up in Alabama, worked for Clinton for nine years during his time as governor, including a stint as Hillary Rodham Clinton’s top aide. She talks about his charisma, how as governor he celebrated Valentine’s Day “by giving red roses to women on his staff.”

On a recent weekday, Kamps leads an upbeat tour of 50 visitors, explaining that presidential centers mirror the men they represent: Clinton’s is a Cubist glass and steel, and the 30-acre site features a steel span across the Arkansas River to symbolize Clinton’s 1996 campaign slogan that his administration would be a “bridge to the 21st century.”

The group presses close. People pepper her with questions.

Gary Stillwell, a retired Austin, Texas, banker who has visited six presidential libraries, wants to know why Clinton’s includes a security checkpoint with an X-ray machine. Kamps politely responds that this was the first presidential library built after the Sept. 11 attacks, requiring added security.

Somebody else asks how often Clinton visits his political shrine.

Kamps says he often appears unannounced, but vanishes by the time tourists brandish their cellphone cameras. “Arkansas is his home — it’ll always be his home,” she says. “It’s good to come back here: It keeps you grounded.”

Then comes a question asked a lot these days: Joan Larson of Oklahoma City wonders whether the museum would make room for a President Hillary Rodham Clinton.

Kamps’ brow furrows: She says presidents deserve their own space, pointing out that father-and-son Bush presidents each have libraries.

Kamps leads the group through exhibits that include mock-ups of Clinton’s Cabinet room and the Oval Office, which Clinton took special care to see turned out precisely like the original. Before the opening, she tells the group, the 6-foot-2 Clinton peeked inside and announced that “something’s not right.”

Workers later found that the ceiling was built too low.

She presides over the tour like a friendly but fussy librarian, pointing out her favorite objects — such as the letter to Clinton from Mother Teresa and the Russian nesting eggs of world leaders that include tiny figures of Boris Yeltsin and Saddam Hussein.

As she stands in front of a display of Clinton saxophones, a sticker on the bamboo floor catches her attention. Continuing to speak, she bends and tries to peel off the sticker, to no avail. “I take care of this place like it’s my own house,” she quips.

Later, while passing a display that includes a small chunk of the Berlin Wall, Scott Harmann of Quincy, Ill., observes: “It’s not as cool as Reagan’s,” whose Simi Valley library contains a large section of the wall. “But it’ll do.”

Then he adds, almost under his breath. “Nice try.”

“Yes, we just have a little piece,” Kamps says. “We can’t all be Ronald Reagan.”

Just down the way is a display that details the impeachment. “In a presidential library, you must show all the facts — good and bad,” Kamps says.

Then someone asks why there are no images of Monica Lewinksy, whose involvement with Clinton helped set off his impeachment.

Kamps sighs.

“Every president has that moment in time that defines his presidency,” she says. “Hopefully, this one doesn’t define President Clinton.”

john.glionna@latimes.com