In Place of Giants and Ogres

To those in the fray, it must be disconcerting to have Mario Cuomo on the sidelines doing his little fan dance: flirting, then playing coy, teasing, acting shy, then showing a bit more thigh. At the very least, it distracts attention and diminishes the stature of those on the field. But none of the declared candidates dare complain as they troop to the New York Governor's issues forums and hope for his blessing. "We need the presence of the most articulate spokesman for our party out on the hustings," Senator Paul Simon graciously declared at one of the forums last week. And when rumors began circulating that Democratic Party Chairman Paul Kirk had asked Cuomo to issue a Shermanesque disclaimer saying he would not accept a draft, both men scurried to deny the stories.

So what is the party's most celebrated cerebral orator up to? His strategy actually seems wondrously simple: 1) enjoy himself immensely, 2) make no move that would give the lie to his declarations of noncandidacy, 3) enjoy himself immensely, 4) take every opportunity to remind people that he is thinking big thoughts, 5) enjoy himself immensely, and 6) wait and see. And what of the complaints that his bursts of interviews and speeches tend to cast a large shadow over the field? Proclaimed Cuomo earnestly last week: "It is important to make the case for the Democratic agenda in addition to making the case for individual candidates." These are not the words of a man who intends to sit back meekly and restrict his thoughts to the pages of his journal.

The conventional wisdom, born out of the past four campaigns, is that a candidate must organize early to gain momentum in the early primaries, which will winnow an unwieldy field before producing a clear winner. Cuomo publicly endorses that wisdom with a passion. But as well as enjoying his situation immensely, he seems to be preparing the ground, just in case, for a possible change in the way things work. Privately, he has been calling various national strategists to chat, and he recently offered a noted campaign consultant a staff job (he declined). Publicly, he has seemed to cool on Massachusetts Governor Michael Dukakis, who presents the greatest obstacle to a Cuomo draft. Instead, he has said sweet things about Simon, who despite his current chic among old-time liberals seems less likely to sew up the nomination. Sometimes when talking about Simon, however, Cuomo seems to conjure up the image of a politician closer to home: "He is an idea person, a person who thinks, writes, studies, who is profound in his conception of things."

Cuomo has made a firm declaration that he will not enter any of the primaries, but in an interview with NBC's Tom Brokaw he again refused to rule out his accepting a draft. It adds up to a no-lose strategy. If Iowa and New Hampshire produce no great victors, and if Jesse Jackson emerges from Super Tuesday's Southern primaries with the largest bloc of delegates, the Democrats could find themselves in March with no candidate likely to win a majority. Then, perhaps, a slate of delegates in California or elsewhere, either uncommitted or formerly pledged to a sinking candidacy, might declare themselves as Cuomo surrogates. Even without that, Cuomo could emerge in the preconvention brokering if the primary process fractures with no acceptable front runner.

Jackson insists that "no one will win the Super Bowl who didn't play in the regular season." Probably not. But Cuomo has nothing to lose by not trying. Just by letting the option dangle, he is rewriting the conventional wisdom on how to remain an unsullied titan in an age of belittling media scrutiny, demeaning character tests and dwarf-making debates. Such a process could cut any politician down to size, as Cuomo seems sensibly anxious not to discover. And so his shadow continues to enthrall the political community, just as rumors of giants and specters once enthralled medieval towns.