The Political Interest

By Michael Kramer

Before his death, President Kennedy was so certain of trouncing Barry Goldwater in 1964 that he issued strict instructions to his staff: Don't spook the scenario. Don't say anything that might encourage the Republicans to select someone else. Today, as Democrats around the country salivate at the possibility of New York Governor Mario Cuomo heading their 1992 ticket, George Bush's aides cannot contain their glee. "What a simple campaign it would be," says Rich Bond, the Bush adviser who knows Cuomo best. "Roger Ailes already has the TV spots conceived. Pictures of decaying streets; rotting buildings and homeless people everywhere; clips of Mario's well-known testiness and bullying; voiceovers talking about New York's tax burden and the state's bond rating, which is the third worst in the nation. And all of it tied together with a nifty tag line: 'Cuomo: he'll do for America what he's done for New York.' "

Why have Bush's aides rejected Kennedy's advice? The answer is easy: Cuomo is not Goldwater. Far from being Bush's dream, Cuomo could turn out to be the President's nightmare.

Students of the electoral map describe a game plan that sees Cuomo avoiding G.O.P. regional strongholds as he exploits the weaknesses apparent from Bush's 1988 victory. The first targeted group is the 10 states plus the District of Columbia that Michael Dukakis won in 1988, which would give Cuomo 110 electoral votes. He could pick up 99 more by capturing the three large states Bush narrowly won in 1988: California, where the President got 51.1%, and Pennsylvania and Illinois, where he squeaked by with 50.7%.

Then there is a third cluster of eight states with 51 electoral votes where Bush's popular vote did not exceed 53%. If Cuomo won all those electoral votes, he would be just 10 shy of the 270 needed for victory. Two other states won by Bush could provide the difference: Louisiana, where a third-party presidential race by David Duke could deflect enough Bush support to tip 10 ; electoral votes to Cuomo, and Michigan (20 votes), where the automobile-based economy is so depressed that a coalition between labor and minorities could doom Bush's prospects.

While any Democratic candidate could follow this electoral strategy, Republican campaign experts believe that Cuomo is especially well positioned to pursue it. First, they reason, Cuomo's name recognition offers him the chance to quickly close the stature gap with Bush. Second, Cuomo's fund- raising abilities are legendary, and it is estimated that about 25% of the $3.8 million in Cuomo's political-action committee could immediately be applied to a presidential race. Third, his experience as a state chief executive and his unmatched rhetorical skills ("Cuomo speaks poetry, while everyone else speaks prose," says Richard Nixon) guarantee that a Bush-Cuomo debate would be a bruising battle, in which the President could be rattled by the Governor's portrayal of him as a protector of the rich.

Will Cuomo run? Like a child talking out loud, he debates the pros and cons with himself in a tiresome spectacle of self-examination. Nevertheless, Cuomo's public agonizing is both revealing and purposeful. By exposing his thinking to anyone who'll listen, he invites the feedback required to reach an informed judgment. He has already indicated that he finds the current field wanting, which was not true when he decided against a 1988 race, and that he thinks Bush is beatable, which he didn't believe four years ago. Holding him back is his governorship and New York's sorry fiscal condition. (Just last week it was estimated that the state faces a potential $800 million shortfall.) Cuomo is loath to resign but says running for President while serving as Governor would be "virtually impossible." He supposes he could campaign part time but adds, "New York and every state I campaigned in would, and should, resent my doing so. It would be like trying to be a part-time father or husband," he explains. "You can't do it. In many ways I've been doing that all my life, and it's wrong."

Egging Cuomo on is his disdain for Bush -- and his dislike of most other politicians, including many Democrats. He admits to having "grudgingly respected" Ronald Reagan as "at least someone who believed in the silly ideas he mouthed," but he finds Bush "almost hopelessly cynical." The refusal of most Democrats to strike back at Clarence Thomas for the Justice's "patently ridiculous charge that he was being race-baited" causes Cuomo to conclude, "The problem isn't the process, it's the players. Unless and until you change them, nothing else will change."

Cuomo's anger is not extraordinary. A lot of people were turned off by the Thomas confirmation hearings. What's different is Cuomo's willingness to excoriate some of the very politicians whose help he could dearly use if he reaches for the White House. "When you have Democrats like Joe Biden and Ted Kennedy who remain mute in the face of Thomas' absurdities," says Cuomo, "and when you have Sam Nunn, Bennett Johnston, Wyche Fowler and Fritz Hollings vote for Thomas when he clearly wasn't qualified -- I guess because they're scared of losing black support in their states -- then you have to consider changing them as well as Bush. No process reform can give people the courage to do what is right, which is to stand up and say Democrats will not permit Republicans to pack the court. Ideological balance is a value worth fighting for, and as long as Democrats control the Senate, we can and we must ensure it."

It is exactly this frankness -- and Cuomo's eagerness to defend unpopular positions, like his opposition to the death penalty -- that many Democrats find endearing. Cuomo might not win; he might not even get the Democratic nomination. But if he ran, the country would pay attention, and for a time at least, the pervasive cynicism that views all politicians as the same would abate. For whatever Mario Cuomo is, he is not like any other politician.