g.o.p. : THE ONLY HOME FOR THE HOUSEHOLD NAMES

Now that Gary Hart’s withdrawal from the presidential race has left the Democratic field to candidates described by major publications as “the Seven Dwarfs,” a new political reality is in the air. When the former front-runner went home to Troublesome Gulch, Colo., Democratic prospects for 1988 took what could be a fateful turn toward disarray, regionalism and divisiveness.

The Hart scandal itself isn’t really the problem. Aside from a few cautions about candidate maturity, it won’t linger. And it is also true that the Iran- contra mess may further re-escalate to haunt the GOP now that Democratic frailties are not preempting the 7 o’clock news. Nonetheless, Republican chances of retaining the presidency next year have been bolstered by the way Hart’s withdrawal underlines a number of well-established Democratic institutional weaknesses.

The first key, of course, lies in the Democrats’ lack of alternative high-stature candidates. There’s not much in U.S. electoral history to support the emergence of our next President from a candidate-group that media have started dismissing as dwarfs or an in-house little league. Moreover, the public had the message even before it was sent. Polls among rank-and-file Democrats show that support for all seven lumped together lags behind the various no-answer categories such as “undecided” or “call back when I’m not watching TV.”

This is unprecedented. Never before in modern Democratic presidential nomination-seeking has support for so many contenders added up to so little. And this dearth of what I’d call pre-existing presidential stature could be important. To be sure, several recent Presidents with international reputations have let us down. High-powered resumes aren’t a guarantee. But by and large, American voters do seem to prefer a certain prior status and credentialing in a chief executive.

Hart, for example, earned his pre-eminence by emerging strongly, albeit not quite successfully, back in 1984’s Democratic nomination race with Walter F. Mondale. As a result, by late April, just before he dropped out, opinion surveys put the Coloradan far ahead among rank-and-file Democrats, with 35%-40% backing. That compared with just 10% for Jesse Jackson, his nearest challenger. Meanwhile, the same surveys gave Hart 5- to 15-point leads over both major GOP presidential hopefuls--Vice President George Bush and Senate Minority Leader Bob Dole of Kansas. Statistically, at least, Hart was a Somebody. Electorally, Hart had “stature.”

Which makes the comparative shortcoming of the seven remaining candidates important. For the most part, Presidents elected during the 60-odd years since World War I have met two credentials criteria: They were prior vice presidents, prior national candidates or men seriously discussed for a national nomination four or eight years earlier. Or they were already President. Just two exceptions come to mind: Warren G. Harding (elected in 1920) and Jimmy Carter (elected in 1976). And if their political selection didn’t meet the stature test, well, by most yardsticks, neither did their presidencies.

Other relative unknowns and outsiders who talked or organized their way to a major party nomination went down to defeat--all of them, and most by landslides. Aficionados cherish the laundry list: James M. Cox in 1920, John W. Davis in 1924, Alfred M. Landon in 1936, Wendell L. Willkie in 1940, Barry M. Goldwater in 1964 and George McGovern in 1972. The seven dwarfs now heigh-hoing through the Democratic forest--Massachusetts Gov. Michael S. Dukakis, Jackson, Rep. Richard A. Gephardt of Missouri, Sen. Joseph R. Biden Jr. of Delaware, Sen. Paul Simon of Illinois, Sen. Albert Gore Jr. of Tennessee and former Arizona Gov. Bruce Babbitt--all easily meet history’s probable-loser litmus test of being unknown (save for Jackson) and unproved. For voters to put one in the White House would be to take an atypical gamble. The two Democrats who do meet the stature test? New York Gov. Mario M. Cuomo and Massachusetts Sen. Edward M. Kennedy (on paper, at least).

So the first net effect of the Hart debacle is to eliminate the one Democratic contender with the requisite background and public-opinion poll lead over the two GOP hopefuls of established stature--Bush and Dole. In this new context, the two Republicans should be able to lead all declared Democratic contenders for the foreseeable future.

But it’s more than that. If the Democrats on May 8 lost a man with a broad support base, they also lost somebody who might--absent his fatal flaws--have been able to sew up the presidential nomination fairly early. Relatively quick success is important, because over the last quarter-century or so, Democratic White House prospects have suffered markedly in the face of divisiveness or a drawn-out nomination fight. Since the mid-1960s, the Democrats have been a tenuous national coalition unable to stand much fratricide and internal conflict--precisely what a drawn-out presidential nomination clash usually insures. In past contests where contention was still operative as the early June California primary rolled around, the Democrats’ November victory chances ebbed accordingly.

At this moment, of course, next year’s race looks like a textbook study in Democratic divisiveness. Analysts in both parties generally agree that it’ll be difficult for any one of the seven to leap to national pre-eminence in the nine months between now and the Feb. 8 Iowa caucuses. A Dukakis challenge to Biden on arms control or a Gephardt-Simon debate on agriculture will be lucky to make page 37 with the mattress ads.

Even if we assume two or three principal contenders emerge in Iowa, how impressive can the triumph be? Back in 1984, Hart played David to Mondale’s Goliath, facing off against the latter’s party endorsements and 40%-50% rank-and-file Democratic support numbers. So when Hart won in New Hampshire, he got high marks. The Seven Dwarfs, by contrast, will have no one to bash but each other. If the current seven stay in the race and no big name joins them, Iowa could be an inconclusive arena. Even the possible entrance of Sen. Sam Nunn of Georgia may not make much difference. Regionalism and fragmentation could take over--with Gephardt strong in the Midwest, Dukakis in the Northeast, Nunn in the South and Jackson scoring among blacks. If geographic splits do develop, three or four middleweights could keep the fight going all the way to the sweaty summer convention hall.

By then, it’s possible that a divided convention, unwilling to nominate anyone in the primaries, would draft someone like Cuomo. But it’s not likely. History suggests that brokered conventions turn to little-known compromise choices, not to men who were big-name “almost-contenders” until they decided to play it cute. Since World War I, only a handful of divided Democratic conventions have been brokered--1920, 1924 and 1952--and the eventual nominee lost each time.

Finally, there’s an emergent question of candidate age, experience and an appropriate degree of emotional maturity. Until Hart put his midlife crisis on display for an attentive nation, Democrats were primed to profit from a subtle age issue in 1988--Americans’ growing sense of needing a new generation and vigor in the White House. Now, however, the country is no longer wisecracking about Ronald Reagan’s afternoon naps but about more troublesome sleeping habits--for example, the bumper sticker saying “It’s 10 o’clock. Do you know where your presidential candidate is tonight?” All of a sudden, 45-year-old male politicians with more ego than experience don’t look so terrific, and chronologically, at least, that’s mostly what the Democrats have. Dukakis and Simon are the only two over 50. Seasoned but vigorous early 60s types--Republicans Bush, Dole or maybe even Howard H. Baker Jr.--could develop new appeal.

Of course, the Republicans can blow it. The economy could sour. Further Iran- contra revelations could drag Bush down, and even fuel a “throw-the-rascals-out” voter psychology that could undercut uninvolved Republicans. And the GOP could unwisely choose to ignore mounting evidence that the public favors a more centrist approach to politics in 1988, as well as a renewed emphasis on a positive role for government. But for the moment, Hart’s withdrawal leaves the Democrats with major institutional problems and a gaggle of candidates evoking a Walt Disney movie, while the Republicans can once again contemplate an at-least-even chance of holding the White House.