The Nova That Stayed Nebulous

By Steven Holmes with Gore

In the hours following Al Gore's impressive showing on Super Tuesday, it seemed that the Tennessee Senator had rewritten the rules of the primary process and lived up to his promise of being the best and brightest of a new political generation. The Harvard-educated Viet Nam veteran had it all: a subtle and supple mind tempered by a self-aware sense of humor, the savvy of a Southern bull breeder mixed with the polish of a Georgetown Prince Charming. Yet somehow he managed to rack up a woeful string of defeats in the Northern states until he finally limped away last week, perhaps permanently bruised.

What went wrong? In fact, Gore's run for the Oval Office was always a long shot. A freshman Senator who entered the race only after more notable Southern moderates such as Sam Nunn and Charles Robb had shied at the gate, Gore did well to survive until the finals. "If I had disappeared from the earth for six months and came back at the end of April to find that Al Gore was one of three candidates left, my reaction would have been near disbelief," says his friend Carter Eskew, a Washington political consultant.

Gore pioneered a new way of seeking the nomination by bypassing Iowa and jump-starting a campaign on Super Tuesday. But he seemed to spend more time pondering tactical maneuvers than propounding a vision or message. And a campaign that lives by tactics can die by tactics. Having skipped Iowa, Gore square danced around New Hampshire, a state where his strong environmental record and centrist solidity might have generated support. In the end, he frittered away $430,000 on a halfhearted run that netted a pitiful 7% of the New Hampshire vote. "If we had used some of that money in the South, we might have won a few more states," says a Gore strategist. "Then the story would not have been 'Gore survives Super Tuesday' but 'Gore wins Super Tuesday.' " The candidate then made the tactical error of committing a lot of money to Illinois, rather than waiting for Wisconsin, on the mistaken assumption that Paul Simon would collapse in his native state.

Yet tactics that in hindsight seem like blunders would have seemed like brilliance had Gore caught fire. He failed because he never developed a visceral connection with voters. On the stump, he tried to convey passion by shouting, but the volume seemed turned up in all the wrong places. Even in his commercials he had trouble conveying sincerity; focus groups rated as worst those that showed Gore speaking directly to the camera.

Overshadowing everything was Gore's inability to develop a consistent message or convey a clear sense of who he is. First he ran as Sam Nunn, differentiating himself from the Democratic pack on defense and foreign policy by speaking loudly about carrying a big stick. Then he ran as Richard Gephardt, picking up the hot populist rhetoric of the fading Missouri Congressman. After that came a Gary Hart phase, as Gore briefly cast himself as the candidate of the future against Dukakis' politics of the past. Finally, in New York, Gore ran at times as virtually a Likud Party candidate, portraying himself as the best friend Israel has.

None of these personas is totally false. All are part of the matrix that defines Gore: a Democrat who grasps America's role in a changing world, has fought for the rights of average citizens, understands the challenges posed by future technologies and has consistently supported Israel. "The truth is, Al Gore is a complex individual with a wide range of interests and a record of activity in each one of those areas," says an aide. "While that might be attractive in a person, it can be a disadvantage in a presidential candidate." But having failed to define himself, Gore was helpless as others did it for him, often in inaccurate terms -- Southerner, conservative, panderer, racist.

When he suspended his campaign last Thursday, three weeks after his birthday, Gore quipped, "I was doing great until I turned 40." In fact, being 39 was part of the problem. His failings were those of the young -- indecision during critical times, a desire to please too many people, and insecurity about his age. He did not capitalize on what could have been his biggest asset -- the vigor that stood in contrast to the sclerotic dusk of the Reagan era. He bottled up his puckish humor and came off as stiff. He eschewed well-tailored suits that could have turned him into a hip-looking heartthrob with a brain, preferring a conservative blue outfit that made him look less a candidate for President than the pilot of his chartered jet.

Gore not only failed to win the nomination but tarnished his prospects of being on the ticket through his transparently strategic attacks on Jackson and Dukakis. By alienating blacks he may even have threatened his re-election to the Senate in 1990. His unimpressive showing means that he has failed to position himself as an early front runner for 1992, should the Democrats lose. But in this case, Gore's youth works to his advantage. He remains one of the brightest and most sensible politicians in his party. And even if he waits until the election of 2024 to roll around, he will still be younger than Ronald Reagan is today.