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                                                                                NATION, Page 22

Will Someone Else Leap In?


Instead of shrinking the Democratic field, the New Hampshire
vote may expand it by tempting some newcomers to enter the race

By GEORGE J. CHURCH -- Reported by Laurence I. Barrett and Walter
Shapiro/Manchester


    And so the big Democratic winner in the New Hampshire
primary, the man who will use his victory there to roll his way
to the nomination in July, turns out to be . . . er . . . uh .
. . nobody. Or at least not any of the five principal
candidates who were on the ballot. It could possibly be someone
who still is not officially in the race but who may yet try to
pull off a feat unthinkable even four years ago and just barely
imaginable now: plunging into the contest in its late stages and
emerging with the nomination.

    This scenario could be flawed. If there is one thing that
the quadrennial slogging through New Hampshire has taught
Americans, it is never to take anything for granted until the
last votes there are counted. And the past few times around the
track, the true shape of the race -- who was the real front
runner, who the principal challenger, who the also-rans -- has
not been visible until Super Tuesday in early March, or even
some of the big industrial-state primaries in April.

    It is increasingly difficult, however, to visualize any of
the starting five lifting his arms in the traditional V before
an adoring convention come July -- let alone graciously
accepting George Bush's concession on Election Night. Bill
Clinton for a time looked like a deflating balloon, the air
hissing out of his candidacy through a new pinhole labeled Draft
Avoidance, as well as the previous puncture made by Gennifer
Flowers. He has enough money and organizational support,
especially in his native South, to remain a force at least
through Super Tuesday on March 10. But even if he could start
a comeback, he would not soon -- if ever -- regain the aura of
inevitability he enjoyed in January.

    Paul Tsongas had put on an amazing sprint to take the lead
in New Hampshire polls. But he still seemed a regional New
England candidate, and the more he is taken seriously, the
harder questions about his health and stamina (he has recovered
from lymphoma) will become. Bob Kerrey and Tom Harkin by all
appearances had failed to strike any sparks among the voters,
and Jerry Brown still looked to be in a private orbit somewhere.

    But the Democrats eventually have to nominate somebody. So
the approach of actual voting paradoxically intensified the
vulture watch -- the speculation among party pros that another
candidate, or possibly even several, could try a late swoopdown
on the prize. California Democratic chairman Phil Angelides puts
on the record a sentiment many others voice privately: "If one
of these [present five] candidates proves big enough and
strong enough, he will be the nominee. But if they cannot
successfully make the case, then the party will look more
broadly."

    Friends of House majority leader Richard Gephardt have
already sounded out potential contributors. Talk is that the
Missourian might enter the race as early as Thursday or Friday
of this week, putting into effect a fairly detailed contingency
plan he has developed to take advantage of a serious stumble by
Clinton.

    New York Governor Mario Cuomo, continuing his Hamlet act
well past what had been thought to be the last scene, had done
nothing to discourage either a New Hampshire write-in campaign
or efforts to start a national draft movement. Then there is
serious talk about Texas Senator Lloyd Bentsen, the 1988
vice-presidential nominee -- who has passed word that he would
accept a draft -- and Tennessee Senator Al Gore, like Gephardt
a 1988 also-ran, plus more wistful speculation about Senators
Jay Rockefeller of West Virginia and Bill Bradley of New Jersey
and Senate Democratic leader George Mitchell -- almost
everybody, it sometimes seems, who has ever said a regretful no.

    If any vulture decides to fly, he had better start fast.
By the time New Hampshire's votes are counted Tuesday night,
filing deadlines will have passed for primaries in 28 states
that will elect about half of all the 4,287 pledged convention
delegates. If Cuomo decided right now to jump into the race
after all, he could no longer get on the ballot in his own
state; the filing deadline for New York's April 7 primary passed
last week. If he, Gephardt or any other potential candidate
tarries even past Thursday, he would also be shut out of the
important May 5 primary in Ohio. Even if a new candidate were
to file 30 seconds after the polls close in New Hampshire, he
would have to win almost every last delegate from the states
where he could still run to gain an outright majority. As a
practical matter, he would have to collect large blocs of
uncommitted delegates and those pledged to one of the five
present candidates.

    But victory for a latecomer cannot be called flatly
impossible. Two changes in delegate-selection rules since 1988
make it at least thinkable. The Democrats have got rid of the
"bonus" rules under which, for instance, Michael Dukakis in 1988
won 66% of Florida's delegates with only 41% of the state's
primary votes. All primaries this year will be conducted under
a system of rough proportional representation. That decreases
the chances that any candidate can lock up a majority of
delegates early.

    Also, there will be more delegates than ever selected not
in primaries or caucuses but by virtue of their positions as
elected officials or party bigwigs. These so-called
superdelegates will cast 770 votes at the convention: 18% of the
total and 37% of the majority needed to nominate. Officially,
all must be uncommitted; they may declare a preference but can
change it at any time.

    Thus it is possible to write a basic, though speculative,
script: the vote in the early primaries is distributed so widely
that no candidate is in sight of a majority. A late entrant
sweeps the last batch of primaries, notably the final ones on
June 2 in California, New Jersey, Alabama, New Mexico and
Montana, the closest approach to a nationwide one-day sampling
that the season offers. The superdelegates flock to his banner.
Finally, one of the early candidates who obviously is not going
to make it -- or who has already dropped out -- swings a deal.
In return, perhaps, for the vice presidential nomination, he
urges delegates still pledged to him to vote for the late
starter. There already are rumors of just such a budding deal
between Cuomo and Kerrey.

    There are some variations on this scenario. One calls for
kick starting a late entry by jumping into caucus states, which
have no filing deadlines. Thus Gephardt, if he goes, could
demonstrate early foot by scoring in the March 3 caucuses in
Washington State, where he would have the powerful support of
House Speaker Thomas Foley, and then bagging most of the 77
delegates to be chosen a week later in Missouri. The party
faithful now favor Clinton, but if he seems to be limping badly
by March 10, they could switch to native son Gephardt. Some of
Gephardt's House colleagues who are likely to be superdelegates
have told him they too endorse him in March, creating an
impression of rapidly gathering momentum.

    There are also stratagems for a late starter to use in
picking up delegates from states where he is not on the ballot.
One is to win over delegates who are officially running as
uncommitted. Cuomo's admirers have already entered a technically
uncommitted but actually pro-Cuomo slate in the Illinois primary
March 17. The most far-out scenario is a postprimary draft; it
seems so reminiscent of the boss-ridden days as to be almost
unimaginable.

    The other scenarios face obstacles that seem only
marginally more surmountable. Most political consultants, media
advisers, pollsters and other experts qualified to help craft
a winning campaign have already signed up with one of the
present candidates. A late starter consequently would be
hard-pressed to throw together an effective organization. That
goes double for fund raising, which has become critical in an
era when the winning candidate is often the one who can afford
to buy the most TV time. Proportional representation cuts two
ways: it could keep a late starter from winning the lion's share
of the delegates in California, New Jersey and other states,
even though he might well have to do so to prevail. Most
important, perhaps, late starters would face the insistent
question: If the party needs you because only you can beat
George Bush, why didn't you jump in at the start? The veiled --
or unveiled -- implication would be that the answer is political
cowardice.

    Much of the discussion of vulture scenarios is being
prompted by sheer panic among officeholders who fear that a weak
presidential candidate will drag down the whole ticket. Like
opening-night stage fright, that panic could dissipate as voting
begins and, perhaps, one of the present candidates proves
stronger than anyone expected.