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Quayle bails Gone but Not (Snicker) ForgottenBy Rick Horowitz Say it ain't soe! Dan Quayle -- the satirist's safety net, the late-night comic's full-employment act -- is giving up the quest. He's pulling out of the race for the Republican presidential nomination. There will be no Quayle Administration in January of 2001. In case you were wondering. After literally hours of fevered speculation, our boy took to a podium in Phoenix on Monday to make it official, and the world wobbled on its axis. OK, so it wasn't exactly a wobble. More like a yawn. The problem, Quayle insisted, was money -- he couldn't raise enough of it to stay competitive. Actually, the lack of cash was more symptom than problem. Dan Quayle's biggest problem was name recognition. He had too much of it. Voters knew all about Dan Quayle; he wasn't invisible. Worse: He was inconceivable. He finished way back in the pack in the Iowa straw poll, behind lesser-known politicians, first-time candidates, talk-show hosts, pork chops. A totally meaningless exercise, the Iowa straw poll, but it sent a message, loud and clear: Dan Quayle was toast. His hair, on the other hand, looked...marvelous. From the moment he entered the race to the moment he left it, his hair was totally presidential. Even under the strain of pulling the plug on the campaign he'd dreamed about for years, his temples were perfect swatches of distinguished silver-gray. If only there were a way of electing his temples... The problem was always the considerable piece of real estate in between. "Spacious lot," the signs kept shouting. "Perfect for development." Makes it hard. Meanwhile: Do you know the most dangerous place in politics this week? Anywhere in the vicinity of Marilyn Quayle. She may have kept a cork in it during her husband's withdrawal announcement, but this is not a happy camper. She was the one, you'll recall, who dismissed the Republican front-runner a few weeks back as "the party frat-boy type." She was the one who complained that George W. was "the guy that never accomplished anything, everything he got Daddy took care of." Do you think she's changed her mind? Not a chance. But really now -- can you blame her for seething, for feeling ever so slightly betrayed? This was supposed to be their year. In a party that bestows presidential nominations like gold watches -- for distinguished service, for waiting your turn -- Dan Quayle had paid his dues. He'd served in the House. He'd served in the Senate. He'd been Vice President of the United States, for pity's sake -- the faithful (if occasionally embarrassing) second-in-command to his boss, George H.W. Bush. Daddy. Now it was Quayle's turn to step up, to go for the top job. Now it was time for George H.W. Bush to step forward and support him, the way Bush himself got Ronald Reagan's support when the moment was right, the way Al Gore (for better or worse) has Bill Clinton's support. Instead? Daddy's backing Sonny, and Sonny's got the bloodlines. Bloodlines are even better than waiting your turn; that's how the party faithful see it. Bloodlines are practically royal! Leaving Marilyn Quayle royally peeved. And leaving even her husband, the eternal optimist, a bit miffed at fate's latest curveballs. "I never imagined in my wildest dreams," Quayle told a reporter on Monday, "that I would be running against George Bush's son. Things would have been a lot different had that not happened. A lot." Or maybe not. With or without George W. in the race, voters knew all about Dan Quayle. But you can hardly fault him for playing "what if?", or for suggesting in the nicest way possible that there's something not quite right about how it all worked out. "I was very loyal to President Bush and the whole family," said Dan Quayle. And that's no joke. Posted 9/28/99. Are
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Rick Horowitz