Wilson: Good on Paper, Bad at the Podium

It appears this presidential race has passed Pete Wilson by. California’s governor drew attractive odds in the paddock but stumbled out of the starting gate and hasn’t closed ground. That’s not the fault of the handlers or jockey; blame the horse.

The candidate can shake up his campaign staff. He can break up the infighting by letting a longtime, loyal political adviser walk off in a huff. He can cut expenses and stop piling up debt. But he apparently cannot change himself. And he just doesn’t look or sound presidential.

Good on paper; bad at the podium. Here’s an example, captured recently by C-SPAN in a “Road to the White House” episode:

Wilson is at a mike in front of a brick wall splattered with campaign posters, officially opening his New Hampshire headquarters in Manchester. He’s wearing a necktie adorned by red, beige and blue elephants, speaking to a small audience. The candidate is introducing several local supporters standing behind him--and some who aren’t even in the room--and it’s about as compelling as if he were reading from a telephone book.

Later, he tries to joke about his eye-glazing persona. “It wasn’t simply because I unleashed my blinding charisma,” he says, “that I overcame a 24-point deficit and beat a very good candidate last year in California by 15 points. It was, in fact, because I took clear positions on issues that people care about: Crime, welfare reform, illegal immigration, affirmative action. . . .”

Whoa! Affirmative action . The only thing Wilson said about affirmative action when he ran for reelection against a woman was that he supported it. Not until this year did he begin crusading against “special preferences.” But never mind.

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What especially catches my attention comes afterward as Wilson works the room during the grip-and-grin. There’s a burly fellow, middle-aged and bearded in a faded red polo shirt, who introduces himself as a grass-roots organizer recruited by Massachusetts Gov. William F. Weld, Wilson’s staunchest supporter. He has a briefcase under one arm and the hardened look of a veteran political soldier.

“So good luck. Keep your head down,” the man tells Wilson, as if leaving. Then he unloads:

“I’ll give ya one thing that irritates me. Especially when you’re up here. You know, we kind of take everybody at face value. You check your crib notes too much when you’re being interviewed live [on TV]. You look down for the answer. You know this stuff. Give it to ‘em right off your shoulder.”

The guy feigns a jab with his big right arm and concludes, “That’s what everyone wants to see.”

This is not a lecture Wilson wants to hear. It has been a bad week. His staff is in turmoil. Money is drying up. Poll numbers remain low. Back in Sacramento, the Legislature is adjourning for the year and ignoring his bills. He stands there uneasily, trying to look elsewhere, sipping water to soothe a throat still not completely healed from debilitating surgery.

“Once people get to know you,” the local pol assures, “you won’t have a problem.”

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Style is not Wilson’s only problem. This is not just a matter of good message, bad messenger. The message itself has not risen to the presidential level.

Slamming illegal immigration, welfare, crooks and your opponent may suffice in a gubernatorial race, but voters look for more in a potential President. They yearn for leadership, conviction, sincerity, self-confidence, presence and what George Bush derided as “the vision thing.”

“There is a quality of leadership that people expect out of the President that they don’t expect out of other officeholders,” notes GOP consultant Sal Russo, who has not signed on with any presidential campaign. “People want to feel good about the President.”

Ronald Reagan possessed these qualities, plus something else--a positive, upbeat message: “Shining city on a hill . . . It’s morning in America.” Voters disagreed with him on issues, polls showed, but trusted him to be their President.

It’s the opposite with Wilson: People agree with him on issues, but don’t think of him as presidential. “There’s a huge vacuum in the Republican Party,” asserts veteran GOP activist Steven A. Merksamer, who also is neutral in the presidential race. “People want a straight shooter. They’re disenchanted with politicians. They’re ripe for a Reaganesque message.”

That’s why political neophyte Malcolm S. Forbes, the publishing tycoon, thinks he sees an opening for himself. It’s one reason millions of voters, according to polls, want retired Gen. Colin L. Powell to run.

Wilson insists he’s in this race all the way; there’s still time to catch the leader. But the odds now seem prohibitive and there aren’t many heavy-betting contributors.