The King Of Cool

By Scott Macleod/Marrakech

The front door of the palace opens, and out comes King Mohammed VI with a feline bounce in his step. After quick introductions and a handshake, he smiles and gets to the point. "Shall we go?" he asks in slightly accented English. The interview, it seems, will have to wait. He's wearing a metallic gray muscle shirt, navy running shorts, white socks and a pair of emerald Nikes. The thin crescent of a new moon is hanging over the medieval city of Marrakech. Morocco's 36-year-old monarch is ready to jog.

The King leaps behind the wheel of his black custom-crafted Carlsson Mercedes. Since becoming head of state a year ago, he explains as he steers into traffic through the huge gate in the palace's high, ocher-colored rampart, he has gone on living the regular life he tried to live as Crown Prince. "People are not shocked at all when they see me driving my own car," he says. "I have always driven myself. I can't imagine not doing it. I haven't changed anything, except I moved into a bigger office."

As we cruise the streets, the King stops for red lights, giving a shy wave whenever pedestrians or other motorists excitedly spot him. He pulls out a pack of Marlboros and jokes, his brown eyes devilishly twinkling, "I guess I shouldn't smoke before jogging, eh?" Outside the city, we stop on a country lane as an unmarked security car that has been following us at a discreet distance pulls up. Then we are off for the five-mile run, the King slowing his pace and shortening his circuit in kindness to an older, nonjogging journalist. "I don't even like running that much," he says, gabbing as he glides along. "But it's good for stress." Listening to my huffing, he adds, "You know, it's important to inhale and exhale."

King. Commander of the Faithful (he's a direct descendant of the Prophet Muhammad). Most Eligible Bachelor. Music Lover. Fitness Buff. Here is Mohammed VI, this week making a state visit to Washington aimed at renewing warm ties that date to 1777, when Morocco was among the first nations to recognize the United States of America.

When Mohammed VI succeeded his father, foreign diplomats were not alone in wondering what to expect. During Hassan II's reign, people quipped about Prince One Step--meaning the boy who stood a pace behind his father, rarely speaking, quietly learning statecraft. In the past year he has turned in a stunning performance. His subjects have watched in amazement as he boldly axed his father's powerful old cronies, freed political prisoners and plunged like a pop star into crowds of adoring Moroccans.

One thing the King has not done is speak to the press, foreign or Moroccan--until last week, when he agreed to let TIME follow him on his peripatetic journeys and do the first interview of his reign. During the jog and more formal talks at a peacock-colored palace in Agadir and during a flight back to Rabat, he came off as confident yet modest, part regal, part ordinary guy. Combining a common touch with strategic vision, he may be the most impressive of the new generation coming to power in the Middle East. Moroccans are calling him M6 for short, and King of the Poor--good omens, considering the immense task he faces of finding jobs for those in a poor country where almost three-quarters of the population is even younger than he is.

The King quickly admits he was a little lost after his father's unexpected death from a heart attack last July at age 70. Hassan II could be cold and arrogant, and Moroccans have long gossiped about his relationship with his heir apparent. Mohammed VI gave rare glimpses in the TIME interview, affectionately calling him "Dad" and following up each mention of his father with the words "God bless his soul." Yet within weeks of assuming power, Mohammed VI took up the delicate task of healing the often bloody national wounds that his father had no small part in opening.

One of his first acts was to dismiss unceremoniously Driss Basri, the powerful Interior Minister whom Moroccans blame for some of the brutal excesses during Hassan II's 38-year reign. The new King also set up a commission to provide $4 million in compensation to victims of political torture in what Mohammed VI calls "moral recognition toward all of these people." He green-lighted the return of exiles, like the family of Mehdi Ben Barka, a friend turned opponent of his father's allegedly murdered by agents in Paris. Last year Mohammed VI sent a secret emissary to France to arrange the return of Morocco's most famous political refugee, Abraham Serfaty, a Marxist who spent 17 years in prison before being deported in 1991. Today Serfaty lives in a seaside villa courtesy of the palace. "Hassan II was feudal," says Serfaty. "But Mohammed VI is modern. He does not have an authoritarian disposition."

The King, Moroccans say, wears his heart on his sleeve. That may be what most distinguishes him from older Arab potentates hardened by careers spent battling colonialists and Israelis. Since his Crown Prince years, he has headed a foundation for helping the handicapped. These days his popularity soars with every visit to another city or town, where he alarms his bodyguards by working the excited throngs. While some Moroccans worry at his disregard for security, that openness has been an essential part of his more modern, approachable rule. "I feel the need to meet the people and see how they live," the King explains. "When I wave at people, I try not to greet the crowd but to greet people individually, to make eye contact."

The King's travels help reconcile the monarchy with his father's ex-enemies. His symbolic first tour last year took him to the northern Rif mountains, where Hassan II once crushed a revolt and called tribesmen "dirty, ignorant beggars." Thousands turned out to cheer his son, who was practically moved to tears.

The King hasn't quite reconciled with Morocco's Muslim fundamentalists, but he is trying. He recently ordered the release of Sheik Abdessalam Yassine after 10 years of house arrest. Hassan II hounded the Islamist leader for years, even putting him in a mental hospital after Yassine wrote an open letter to the King denouncing his alleged unholy behavior. Mohammed VI acted, even though Yassine continues to question the King's religious authority.

Such heavy burdens aside, it is certainly not bad to be King. He has the use of gorgeous palaces all over the country, although he considers them "the office" and resides in more unpretentious digs. He works out daily with a trainer, hanging out at hotel gyms when he is on the road. On weekends he heads for a beach club in Rabat to race jet skis with friends. In Marrakech he is spotted at restaurants in the Casbah or at the city's fabled La Mamounia Hotel, where he recently startled some Cabinet ministers accustomed to free meals by taking out his wallet and paying a lunch tab.

The King is attached to his three sisters and brother, the latter being next in line until the unmarried monarch produces an heir. (While Moroccans anticipate a royal wedding, details of the King's social life are closely held by the palace and his friends.) Old friends now in key positions may kiss his hand during working hours, then kick back as former high school buddies at night. He's working on ways to get together with his close friends and fellow Arab rulers King Abdullah II of Jordan and Emir Hamad of Bahrain; he hasn't met Syrian heir Bashar Assad, 34. Despite high expectations for this new wave of leaders, Mohammed VI cautions, "One should not think that a new generation will turn everything upside down."

As he jogged along, scarcely breaking a sweat, the King mused on his devotion to Morocco's ancient Jewish community, the national soccer team's lackluster performance, America's penchant for simple solutions and a piece of advice his father once gave him. "He told me that the most important thing was 'to last,'" Mohammed VI explained. "In truth, I do not know what he meant. Since he died, I have been thinking about it. I do not deserve my current success. What matters is to be appreciated later for what one has achieved."

Mohammed VI seems well aware that times are changing, that the days of feudalism in Morocco are over. An enormous risk is that his eagerness to initiate change may undermine budding democratic institutions like Morocco's parliament--and set him up for a fall if public opinion sours. "I cannot do everything," he hastens to say. "We must all roll up our sleeves." He makes no pretense to his father's stature as statesman, although he does not lack for opinions. He criticizes Europeans for seeing North Africans as terrorists, and when asked if he is satisfied with U.S. economic support, his answer is, "Absolutely not." He is blunt about Morocco's relations with Algeria, which he cites for prolonging the dispute over the Western Sahara. The King refuses to take part in a meeting that simply becomes "a contest on who will speak the loudest." Yet he is not above praising Algeria's President for his sense of humor.

The King boards the Royal Air Maroc 737 for his return to the capital. The cabin is bedecked in flowers and silk carpets. He slips quietly into Seat 2A and chats with flight attendants who offer tea, canapes and chocolates. Near the end of the one-hour flight, he reflects on his tour of the drought-stricken south. "These people need some moral support and some comfort," he says quietly as the plane banks over Rabat. "It is now time for authority to serve the people, and not for the people to serve authority."

After the landing, he peers out the window at some military brass and a few aides who are waiting to receive him. The Mercedes is there on the tarmac too. Saying goodbye, he goes into the cockpit to thank the pilots for the safe trip and then bounds down the steps. Within seconds he's behind the wheel again and spinning into town.

To read a complete Q. and A. with the King, visit our website at www.time.com