TIME: Almanac 1995

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<text id=91TT0617> <title> Mar. 25, 1991: No Donkeys In This Horse Race </title> <history> TIME--The Weekly Newsmagazine--1991 Mar. 25, 1991 Boris Yeltsin:Russia's Maverick </history> <article> <source>Time Magazine</source> <hdr> NATION, Page 24 No Donkeys in This Horse Race </hdr><body> As Bush savors the gulf victory and lengthens his odds for 1992, the Democrats shy away from the starting gate By Margaret Carlson--Reported by Laurence I. Barrett/Washington The only thing more embarrassing to the Democrats than the spectacle of seven dwarfs scrambling for the presidential nomination 20 months before the election is the absence of any candidates at all. At this point in the run-up to the 1988 voting, a bomb blast in Des Moines' Savery Hotel would have wiped out much of the Democratic field of candidates and most of the political press corps. Now Iowans just sit and watch the hogs fatten. If few Democrats seemed eager to run before Jan. 15, the gulf war has done little to whet anyone's appetite. Running against an incumbent President is hard enough; running against a triumphant Commander in Chief is nearly impossible, no matter how much bunting a candidate drapes himself in. Campaigning is often absurd under any circumstances--a gaggle of politicians asking to be taken seriously while begging to be liked. Who wants to leave himself or herself open to the sort of antics of elections past--Ronald Reagan grabbing the microphone he paid for in New Hampshire, Bruce Babbitt comparing himself unfavorably to a talking horse, Pierre Dupont IV pleading to be called Pete--while the President is welcoming back his victorious troops and addressing a flag-waving joint session of Congress? Jay Leno joked last week that Saddam Hussein's humiliation should be made complete by choosing him as the 1992 Democratic nominee. The fear of such ridicule--and the bad odor Democrats attach to their has-runs--are two reasons why no one is racing to set up phone banks in Davenport, Iowa. Says Democratic Party treasurer Bob Farmer: "The party has got into the habit of eating its nominees for lunch if they lose." Congressman Richard Gephardt, who had made Iowa his second home by February 1987, denies both that he is running again and that Farmer will be his top money man. "We have no campaign staff because we have no campaign," huffs press spokeswoman Deborah Johns. The strongest signal that Senator Lloyd Bentsen will not try again is his rejoining the exclusive private clubs from which he resigned during his vice-presidential bid. But fear of ridicule has not kept George McGovern, who lost 49 states in 1972, from announcing that if someone didn't get into this race soon, he would. That's the kind of suicidal challenge that Democrats, who prefer running against each other to running against a Republican, usually rise to. So far, it has not been enough to draw out dark horse Bob Kerrey, the Nebraska Senator whose vote against using force in the gulf is offset by his Vietnam War record. Yet it did bring out one dark, dark horse: former Massachusetts Senator Paul Tsongas, who announced he might run while fellow liberal Michael Dukakis was vacationing in Hawaii and unavailable for comment. The war seems to have obliterated the nomination chances of Senate Armed Services Committee chairman Sam Nunn, who voted against force in the gulf, and raised those of Tennessee Senator Albert Gore, who was for it. Predicts Maryland state chairman and fund raiser Nathan Landow: "As things stand now, Gore has the best shot. The vote on the war was important." The irony is that his pro-war vote, a prerequisite for having a chance in the general election, could deny Gore his dovish party's bid. It is not lost on his colleagues that every time Gore defends their vote against force, he gets to rub in the fact that he chose right on the biggest foreign-policy issue of the past decade. When asked last week, Gore went so far as to say he was "actively thinking about" running. Other "go" signals: he looks 20 lbs. thinner, and he has $1 million left over from his 1990 Senate campaign. Until now, Virginia Governor Douglas Wilder has been the most visible noncandidate, crisscrossing the country giving speeches, wooing deep pockets in Hollywood and devising a catchy slogan--"the New Mainstream." He's even survived what might have been a fatal blunder after flying on a state-owned aircraft to visit former model Patricia Kluge, recently divorced from one of the wealthiest men in the U.S. For good measure, Wilder appointed Kluge, star of the soft-porn movie Nine Ages of Nakedness, to the board of visitors of the University of Virginia. But running in a race without challengers means never having to say you're sorry. When the episode became public, Wilder simply reimbursed the state $3,707 for the plane ride and said of Kluge, "We're friends." Gary Hart, call your PAC manager. As nonrunners go, no one can compete with Zen candidate Mario Cuomo, who by never running always looms as the front runner. Cuomo trumped Wilder last month by announcing that he doesn't plan to make an announcement that he is not running in '92. Is that perfectly clear? War has unintended consequences--and improving the presidential campaign by shortening it is not the least of them. There are even those, such as Al From, director of the Democratic Leadership Council, who gamely argue that "the war may turn out to be the best thing that has happened to the Democratic Party in years. It provided a real shock to the system at a phase in the cycle when we can rethink our approach." That may prove hopelessly optimistic. But one thing seems true: from their current below-sea-level crouch, the Democrats have nowhere to spring but up. </body></article> </text>