The historical trend most worrisome to Gore is the grim record of sitting vice presidents. Five of the last 10 presidents have served as vice president first, but only one president since Martin van Buren in 1836 has been elected to the presidency straight from the vice presidency–George Bush in 1988. The problem lies mostly with the voters’ expectations. They want their vice presidents to be both loyal and independent, which is nearly impossible. Too loyal, you’re a lapdog. Too independent, you’re an ingrate. Too much of a straddler, you look unfocused and weak.
Another historical pattern that may hurt Gore is the penchant of Democratic Party primary voters to reward underdogs. Republicans are royalists; every Republican Party ticket for half a century (except 1964) has included a Nixon, Dole or Bush. Democrats, by contrast, are hard-wired for mischief-making. Sitting on a lead is death for them; primary voters in that party invariably experience a kind of buyers’ remorse about the front runner. Gore’s best bet may be for Bill Bradley to pass him in the polls and emerge as the front runner so the vice president is forced to claw his way back, proving his mettle.
The natural rhythms of campaigns should actually be of some comfort to Gore. The year before an election is always tough on incumbent vice presidents. In May 1959, Vice President Richard Nixon trailed Sen. John F. Kennedy by eight points in the Gallup poll; he ended up losing by less than one. In July 1988, Vice President Bush trailed Democratic nominee Michael Dukakis by 17 points; in the November election he beat him by eight. Gore’s stock will likely fluctuate next year, too. It must. The political-media industrial complex will insist on it, just to keep things interesting.
The nightmare comparisons for Gore are 1972 and 1984. In 1972, Sen. Edmund Muskie, the favorite, lost the New Hampshire primary to insurgent George McGovern and was forced out. In 1984, three years before the “Monkey Business,” Gary Hart upset former vice president Walter Mondale in New Hampshire and would have won the nomination if the big primaries had been as early as they will be next year. Mondale’s overwhelming advantage in money and endorsements meant little against Hart’s momentum. I remember flying into primary states that year where Hart had zero TV ads and zero organization on the ground. He won them anyway. Mondale eventually prevailed because of Hart’s miscues and a TV ad–not one he bought, but a line Mondale borrowed from an old lady in a Wendy’s commercial: “Where’s the beef?”
Today Clara Pell is giving way to Cuba Gooding Jr.: the beef is money, and everyone is saying show me. Raising millions is supposed to be a sign of strength. Gore remembers running out of cash in 1988 and how that hurt him. He remembers that a big war chest helped the Clinton-Gore ticket cement re-election with early TV ads blasting Newt Gingrich in 1996. He forgets that an image as the richest candidate can boomerang in Democratic primaries. Money is decisive in Senate and governor’s races, where the press doesn’t cover much of the campaign. But in presidential contests, so-called free media–news coverage–dominates. As long as Bradley raises enough money for a seat at the table (perhaps $20 million), Gore could raise twice as much and it will mean little. Does anybody seriously believe that if a California primary voter sees twice as many Gore ads on TV as Bradley ads he’s more likely to vote for Gore? Maybe less likely.
For such a smart guy, the vice president doesn’t seem to be using his head. Instead of hiring a money man, Tony Coelho, to run his campaign, Gore should have placed “message” at the center of everything. (That’s what Clinton did by putting James Carville in charge.) Gore’s ideas so far–like addressing traffic jams–aren’t as goofy as depicted; people care about such issues more than political sophisticates recognize. But he’ll need something much bigger to convince voters he’s not just a less engaging, zippered-up Clinton.
It can’t be said enough: winning elections at the presidential level is about articulating ideas. Ronald Reagan didn’t prevail in 1980 because he was so charming, but because he sold the country on simple-to-understand nostrums like cutting taxes, increasing defense spending and restoring patriotism. Even as he sliced up Dukakis, George Bush gave life to the notion of a “kinder and gentler” Reaganism, full of prudent stewardship. Clinton overcame his character problems because he convinced voters that he’d move the Democratic Party to the center and fight effectively for the middle class. To world-weary Washington wise guys, these sound like bromides. But for recent presidents, they were the engines of victory.
