Political Husbandry in Iowa

Maureen Dowd 

©1999 N.Y. Times News Service

   SIOUX CENTER, Iowa - When he walks through the door of the party room at the Pizza Ranch, I realize I'm glad to see him. 
   A girl can get pretty desperate sitting around a mall in an outpost of northern Iowa. 
   The Bobster has on that same powder-blue early-bird-special jacket he wore in his own presidential campaign in the summer of '96. And those gleaming tasseled loafers that mark him as a Gucci Gulch Washington lobbyist in a joint with a sign out front that reads: “Please remove soiled boots before entering.'' 
   The 76-year-old spouse in the running to be the first first man dishes about remodeling at the Watergate. “We did buy the apartment that Monica lived in,'' Bob Dole tells the handful of seniors with gray hair and teen-agers with purple hair who have shown up to hear him. “We wanted to make our place a little bigger. In fact, the walls are being torn down today, I think.'' Pausing, he adds slyly: “We'll have tours there on Sundays.'' 
   The retired senator spent two days in Iowa last week stumping for his wife, trying to work his way out of the doghouse. He was banished there after his interview in May with The New York Times' Richard L. Berke, in which he was distinctly dour about Elizabeth Dole's prospects, and even suggested he might write a check to John McCain. 
   “I just told the truth - I don't think that's against the law,'' he says defensively to an Iowa reporter who asks about it. “John McCain is a good friend of mine. But obviously I'm for Elizabeth. I've been urging her to do this for years.'' 
   To be fair, Dole was probably not belittling Elizabeth because he was jealous. He's just a saturnine guy who speaks his mind. He was even more dour during his own race four years ago, a campaign with no pulse and no rationale that was dubbed “Dead Man Walking'' by The New Republic. 
   He still tends to be more realistic than connubially partisan when talking about his wife's bleak chances. “I think there will be a Republican president,'' he ventures. 
   He's fuzzy on Liddy's 10-point agriculture policy, but recalls wistfully, “I was on the Ag Committee for 30 years.'' He gives the same impression campaigning for her that he did campaigning for himself: He'd rather be home on the treadmill watching C-Span. 
   He and his wife seem a bit confused on how to play the issue of a female president. On the one hand, Dole says, gender shouldn't matter; qualifications should. But on the other hand, he suggests that if she's elected, the “glass ceiling will be forgotten.'' And he envies all the press attention Hillary Clinton gets. ``You've got a woman running for president and the press ignores her,'' he complains, “as opposed to a woman running for Senate.'' 
   He is still as disjointed as ever. Speaking to 15 or so people at yet another Pizza Ranch, this one in Orange City, he poignantly notes that he may have made a mistake voting against the assault-weapons ban: “'cause I'm a pretty good example of what happens when you get hit by a gun. Of course, it's in a war, but it's still gunshot and it takes a heavy toll.'' 
A moment later he echoes the NRA line: “In that latest spree in Atlanta, these children were killed with a hammer. People are sometimes just sick and they do terrible things.'' 
   The dyspeptic Bob Dole and the bubbly George Bush had a great political rivalry. It was colored by Dole's class resentment, his assertion that people whose fathers wore overalls did not get the same privileges and resumes and endorsements in life. In '88, Dole aides muttered that George was a lap dog, while Bush aides mocked Bob as Captain Queeg. 
When I asked Dole if he was surprised at W.'s early coronation, he conceded he was “astonished'' at the millions W. has raised and suggested people look into where all that money was coming from. 
   But the old class rage has dissipated. Asked why Doles always end up trailing the Bushes, he counters with good humor. “I don't know why we're always squaring off. In 1988, when Vice President Bush and I were running, the exchanges got pretty heated. Then I became the president of Iowa and he became the president of the United States. But then we became very good friends. He was a very good president, especially on foreign policy. I've got great admiration for the Bushes, for the Bush family.'' 
   He'd better watch it. A few more enthusiastic syllables about the Bushes and he'll be back in the doghouse. And what a waste of Viagra that would be.