Humor me

Dan Quayle wants to be president. So how does a former political punch line turn old laughs into new votes?

by Jason Gay

Each year, the Hopkinton State Fair in Hopkinton, New Hampshire, draws more than 100,000 people with its noisy barrage of tractor pulls, animal shows, midway rides, NASCAR booths, kitchen-knife demonstrations, temporary-tattoo stalls, and country chefs slinging everything from ostrich jerky to barbecued turkey legs big enough for the Flintstones.

This year, the fairgoers get something else in the bargain: Dan Quayle! The 52-year-old former vice-president is here in southern New Hampshire campaigning for president. Dressed in a white polo shirt, pleated khakis, and a pair of Saucony sneakers, he doesn't exactly blend in with the state-fair crowd, which is thick with biker couples, well-pierced teens, and elderly gentlemen wearing baseball caps imprinted with sayings such as OLD FART and I LOVE THE WOMAN I MARRIED -- IT'S MY WIFE I CAN'T STAND.

But Quayle makes a worthy go of it. He plunges into the fair crowd like a platform diver, shaking hands, kissing babies, signing autographs, and posing for photographs. He attends part of the tractor pull, putting on ear plugs and enthusiastically cheering for a 747-loud contraption called the "Un-natural Disaster." He seems to truly enjoy the nitty-gritty of campaigning. As one of his aides notes, it's almost . . . Clintonian.

It's been nearly seven years since Quayle left office, a one-termer along with his boss, George Bush. In that time, Quayle has written three books, taught at a business school, headed a political-action committee raising funds for Republican candidates, and devoted more time to being a husband and father. More important for his presidential hopes, he has also put seven years between himself and the era when a handful of unfortunate public gaffes (p-o-t-a-t-o-e) made him America's favorite political punch line, a one-man material well for Leno and Letterman, even for Johnny Carson before he retired.

Of course, Quayle's return makes those old jokes fair again. (Q: What did Mickey Mouse get for his birthday? A: A Dan Quayle watch.) Though some of the folks who meet Quayle at the state fair feel bad about the way he got treated -- and tell him so -- others say a polite hello and then walk away, smiling with clenched teeth, as if suppressing a giggle.

Watching him, you realize that Dan Quayle isn't just running for president. He's also running for some respect.

QUAYLE'S IN New Hampshire for a three-day tour, trying to inject some badly needed momentum into his campaign. The primary isn't until February, but the well-moneyed Texas governor, George W. Bush, has already been anointed as the front-runner. Quayle finds himself in the Republican scrum whose strategy can be adequately summed up as: stick around, stay the course, and pray that someone surfaces with photos of a young George snorting lines off a drag queen's back at Studio 54.

Bush's run is frustrating to Quayle, of course. Without George W., Quayle would likely be the consensus candidate of the Bushies and, more important, the Reaganites, who are legion in this state. "There's not anything I can do about it -- [George W. Bush] is going to be in the race," Quayle tells a reporter. "When I was vice-president, it never crossed my mind that he would be running for president against me, but that's just the way the situation is. Clearly, he takes some support from me, I take some support from him, but it's just one of those things."

In other words: aw, crap! Quayle nearly ran for president in 1996, and has been campaigning for 2000 almost ever since -- and now he's got to chase his old boss's late-blooming son all around the country? Bush's impact has already been felt: Quayle's fundraising fills a piggy bank next to Bush's war chest; Bush finished first at August's straw poll while Quayle limped into eighth place, behind Alan Keyes. Though Quayle's camp downplayed the straw poll's importance, several key staffers jumped ship in the aftermath, and there is whispering in the GOP that the candidate ought to drop out and play golf with Lamar Alexander.

But Quayle's promising to stick it out for the long haul. He's positioning himself as the experienced choice of true-blue conservatives, not the desperate-for-a-win types who want to ride the hottest horse. His platform hits the classic small-government/ strong-military/lower-taxes high notes, with a few new riffs. Quayle's pushing a 30 percent across-the-board tax cut with a twist: "Freedom Accounts," a tax-free retirement planner that allows penalty-free deductions for first-time homebuying, education, medical expenses, and elder care. He favors the return of a national ballistic-missile-defense system (a/k/a "Star Wars"). He recommends cutting the number of cabinet departments in half.

Quayle also speaks passionately about the return of "morals" and "values" to national politics, and here he has some battle-won cred. This is a guy who's seen his much-criticized attacks on Hollywood morality co-opted by virtually every Republican and middle-of-the-road Democrat from Miami to Marina del Rey. Though some of Quayle's attacks were ill-conceived (bashing Murphy Brown?), it turns out -- with the nation's pols in a tizzy about everything from media violence to Monica fallout -- that the vice-president was truly ahead of the curve. And he feels well positioned to lead this debate.

But now he must find votes. Before hitting the Hopkinton fair, Quayle attends a backyard barbecue at the handsome Derry home of Jenna and Rick Hobson. The crowd, which is full of local GOP loyalists and is whiter than a Colby College ski trip, munches on hot dogs and a cake that is spackled with white frosting and American flags. John Sununu, the ex-Granite State governor and George Bush's former chief-of-staff, who is Quayle's Most Important Pal in New Hampshire, mingles in the backyard. A gaggle of children wearing handmade KFQ (Kids for Quayle) gear darts around the porch and pool.

Quayle arrives about 45 minutes late, with a C-SPAN camera crew in tow. The former veep isn't physically imposing and doesn't have Clinton's all-eyes-on-me aura, but his blue-eyed baby-Redford thing is still there, especially now that his red hair has acquired a distinguished gray tint around the temples. Jackie Elsmore practically swoons. After a round of hand-shaking, Quayle is introduced by Jenna and Rick's energetic 11-year-old son, Derek, who uncorks with convention-floor brio. A sample:

My parents always say that Vice-President Dan Quayle is the strongest man ever in politics! My sister and I agree! The liberal media tried to embarrass him and make him be quiet because they could never find a way to attack what he believed in! I've heard so much mean and dumb stuff about the Democrats, and I hardly ever hear the press try to make people laugh at them! But Dan Quayle only got louder! He made speeches anyway -- right in public -- that told people what he really thinks! No one can make him change his mind about right and wrong, and no one made him go away!

Derek's speech is enthusiastically received, but his remarks reveal a fundamental trait of Quayle supporters, young and old: defensiveness. No wonder. In addition to supporting a candidate, Quayle diehards also must take on a legacy of grief and abuse, most of which they feel is grossly undeserved. This leaves many Quaylies a tad bitter and distrustful, particularly of the media.

And in fairness, Quayle, the person, is hardly the goofball caricature he's been made out to be. His speech in the Hobsons' backyard is polished and smart, absent of stumbles, and marked by a couple of clever improvisational moments. He whacks big government and plugs for national defense, but he really gets going when he starts laying into Clinton.

"Because of all the shenanigans that have gone on in the White House, all the distortions, all the deceit, all the lack of truth-telling that we have had to endure for these last six or seven years, unfortunately there is a lot of cynicism and distrust in the air," Quayle intones. "But you know, that's not the American attitude. Just listen to Derek. He reflects the American attitude and what our children are all about. And did you note any cynicism, any distrust? No, there was a flavor of optimism, a spirit that we can do things, a spirit that we can make things better if we just believe, believe once again in our families, in our friends, and our neighborhoods, and believe in God."

When he finishes, the crowd cheers loudly. Someone shouts, "Amen!" He may be a long shot, but Dan Quayle is running for president of the United States. No joking.

Jason Gay can be reached at jgay[a]phx.com.