The vice president, Washington - humor - Column

As hard as I try, I can't seem to shake this feeling that we're headed for certain victory in November.

I'm trying not to be too cocky. I remember well the days in 1988 when The New Republic endorsed my bid for the Presidency, and I thought to myself, "Hey, TNR is about as in touch as you can get. If they like me, then everybody likes me." So, obviously, I'm keeping a lid on the counting-chickens department.

Still, it's nice to have a comfortable lead. We had originally planned to spend the spring and early summer with a kind of "Plan A" and "Plan B" approach -- "Plan A" being a lot of appearances by me on Brinkley, CNN, and Meet the Press reaffirming my complete faith in the integrity and honesty of Bill and HRC irrespective of the grand-jury indictments; and "Plan B" being Tipper's hunger strike outside the Little Rock jailhouse until they released HRC and waived bail.

But, as things turned out, we didn't need either plan, so now, with three months to go before the convention and $22 million to spend, we're kind of looking at each other and thinking, "Now what?"

So when Chris Dodd, one of Connecticut's senators, and the chairman of the party's Senate campaign, gave me a call last week, I took the bull by the horns. "Chris," I said, "you and I both know that victory in November is a foregone conclusion. But I've always thought that it's important to plan the move after the next move. So what do you and Tom have on the agenda come January 1997?"

"Me and who?" Chris asked.

"Tom Daschle," I said. "Senate Minority Leader, and, after November, the Majority Leader."

"Oh. Right. Tom. Tom," Chris said. "Tom's a super guy. I just love him to death, don't you?"

"I'm fond of him, sure," I said.

"He's a great little soldier; loyal, steadfast, maybe not the most visionary guy, but hey, that's not what we need in a Minority Leader, is it?"

I was getting a little impatient. "Yes," I said, "there's something to that, but Chris -- "

"But a majority leader -- whoa. That's a different-type cat altogether, no?"

"Chris," I said, "I'd love to chat all day with you, but I've got a meeting in a few minutes, and I really want to talk about the future, okay?"

"Mr. Vice President, that's all I think about."

And with that, he dashed off to a floor vote, after promising to call me back. In the meantime, I dialed Dick Gephardt's office.

"Speaker Gephardt's office," a voice answered.

Is Dick in?" I asked, after identifying myself.

"Please hold."

Which I did. For almost twenty minutes. You know me, Rusty. I'm not a stickler for protocol. And I wasn't personally insulted to be kept on hold, I was insulted for the office of the Vice Presidency. Look, I know that Dick and I haven't always gotten along -- heck, we both wanted our party's nomination in 1988, and while some people have characterized him as a half-witted knee-jerk big-government-liberal lightbulb-faced albino, I've always admired his keen legislative skill.

So when Dick finally got on the phone with a cheery "How 'ya doing, Al?" I let the jarring breach of protocol pass -- I'm usually called "Mr. Vice President," after all.

"I'm fine, Dick. How are you?"

"Doing pretty well for a guy who's 'so far left, he's left America."'

"Excuse me?"

"Presidential Debate, the Sunday before Super Tuesday, 1988."

"Sorry?"

"That's what you called me."

"Well I was hoping we could move past that. It was eight years ago, Dick. And as you know, I've always admired your keen legislative skill. In fact, that's what I'm calling about. November. I was just wondering what your plans might be, after we take back the House."

"Plans? Oh, I've got plans. I've got a million."

"Care to share any of them?"

"Let me summarize them: Remember how it was when you guys had Tom Foley around?"

"Sure do, Dick. He supported us to the hilt -- always ready to help our agenda."

"Okay. Well now he spends his day representing the National Aerosol Packaged Cheese Spread Manufacturers Association. Get me?"

"C'mon, Dick. We've got to think -- not just about '96, but about 2000 and 2004."

"That, Al," he said, "is all I think about."

And with that, he dashed off to a floor vote.

It wasn't easy, but at least I got those two to start thinking about the future. After all, that's all I think about, too.

COPYRIGHT 1996 National Review, Inc.
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