Joe Biden and the allure of the non-candidate: Column

“If only he would run.”

How many times have we heard that line? There is never a shortage of candidates for any particular office, especially for president. But there’s always that one person, man or woman, who would be the perfect candidate, the sure winner. If only they’d run.

Right now the focus of that attention is on Joe Biden. The vice president is wrestling with a decision over whether to enter the 2016 contest for the White House. He wants to be president. His two previous attempts, in 1988 and 2008, went nowhere. Now, after seven years as the loyal vice president, he would like nothing more than to succeed the man who picked him as his running mate, Barack Obama.

Those calling for his candidacy say his integrity and honesty compare favorably with the party’s front runner, Hillary Clinton. He doesn’t have a closet full of scandals and question marks that she does. If only he would run!

We forget, of course, why he didn’t win in 1988 or 2008. He wasn’t an especially good candidate. His flubs and gaffes made as many headlines as his policy proposals. He had a tendency to talk for interminable lengths. (The best part of Biden’s speech, the old line went, were the first three hours.)

Has Tuesday’s Democratic presidential debate quelled the fervor? The latest word is that if, as some have suggested, Clinton dispelled many of the questions surrounding her, maybe there would be no need for Biden to run. That could be the thing that saves his legacy. Otherwise, he could get in the race and all the intrigue and excitement could disappear in a flash. He would become like everyone else.

We’ve seen it before.

If only he would run, supporters said of Sen. Edward Kennedy. They said it in 1968, after the assassination of his brother Bobby. They said it again in 1972, when nobody on the Democratic side was given a chance to topple President Nixon. And again in 1976, to rescue the nation from the stench of Watergate.

In 1979, when the country was a mess and President Carter’s popularity was sinking, the pressure on Kennedy was at its apex. Carter was killing the party, Democratic leaders told Kennedy. House Speaker Tip O’Neill said the nomination was Kennedy’s if he wanted it.

So Kennedy got in the race. And almost immediately his numbers plummeted. Questions about the Chappaquiddick car crash were revived. His failure in that infamous interview with CBS’ Roger Mudd to explain the rationale for his candidacy was jaw-dropping. The taking of U.S. hostages in Iran didn’t help. But the moment non-candidate Kennedy became would-be president Kennedy is when the aura of greatness vanished.

Remember Fred Thompson? The Watergate counsel-turned-actor-turned senator was the subject of similar pleas in mid-2007. Please save us from Rudy Giuliani and John McCain, conservatives begged. If only the Reaganesque Thompson would run! Well, he did, and he immediately jumped to the top of the polls. But then, not long after, people remembered why he had this reputation as being “lazy” during his years in the Senate: Because he was. He was a bust as a presidential candidate, failed to offer anything more than platitudes, never stood out in a debate, got 1% of the vote in New Hampshire and was out of the race by late January.

There was also Gen. Wesley Clark. Democrats were not prone to nominating military men for the presidency, but here was a guy who had the chops to stand up to President George W. Bush on foreign policy, especially the war in Iraq — the rationale, the bad intelligence, everything. Such an impressive military record! If only he would run! It’s not every day that a military man gets drafted, but that’s what happened in 2003. He announced his candidacy. And, like Thompson, jumped to the lead. A Gallup Poll that October had him in first place.

That didn’t last long. Once he became a candidate, the complaints came in. We learned that in a May 2001 speech, Clark praised Bush, Vice President Cheney, Defense Secretary Donald Rumsfeld and others as a “great team.” Clark had voted twice for Ronald Reagan. He couldn’t give a clear answer on whether he would have voted for the war in Iraq. He was vague in the debates. Not surprisingly, he was gone by February of 2004.

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But oh, was there a time when he was in such demand!

A similar amount of pressure is now being placed on Rep. Paul Ryan, R-Wis., chairman of the House Ways and Means Committee. After the right wing of the party forced the resignation of Speaker John Boehner and torpedoed the hoped-for ascendancy of Majority Leader Kevin McCarthy, GOP leaders quickly went to Ryan. If only he would run for speaker, they say. Only he can save the party from further embarrassment.

Ryan knows what would happen if he acquiesced. The Republican nominee for vice president in 2012, Ryan would like to be president one day. But he knows as well as anyone the mindless cannibalism that is going on in the House, where Tea Party and Freedom Caucus members are attacking fellow Republicans as RINOs, sellouts or worse. Ryan already is under assault for working across party lines to arrive at a budget deal with Sen. Patty Murray, D-Wash., and trying to come up with a deal on immigration. The moment Ryan becomes speaker is the moment he becomes the establishment. And we know how well the establishment is viewed these days, especially among Republicans.

Perhaps Mario Cuomo had it right. The governor of New York was acclaimed for his wit, intelligence and style. If only he would run, many Democrats said. But he dithered and hemmed and hawed for weeks about making a decision. There was even a plane waiting on the tarmac to fly him to New Hampshire to file for the 1992 primary. But, at the last second, the “Hamlet on the Hudson” didn’t pull the trigger.

No, Cuomo never ran for president. He never got to show us what he could do on a national stage. At the same time, he was spared the inevitable criticism that comes along with being a candidate. In that sense, Cuomo's legacy was saved. He didn’t become like everyone else.

Ken Rudin is the former political editor at NPR. He is the host of Ken Rudin's Political Junkie radio program.

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