A Rocking-Chair Campaign

By LANCE MORROW

Ever since Super Tuesday, Al Gore and George W. Bush have been comparatively quiescent. We know, however, that this is a fool's paradise. We are enjoying, so to speak, the summer of 1939, an eerie calm before the inevitable hideousness begins.

I have conducted an informal poll: no one wants this campaign to happen.

No decent person looked forward to World War II either. But I believe the campaign need not occur, at least not in the way we dread.

In the 19th century, many presidential candidates thought it unseemly to do actual campaigning for the office. Thus Ulysses S. Grant in 1868 retired to Galena, Ill., and demurely waited for November. William McKinley withdrew to his front porch in Ohio and ran the race in a rocking chair. This is a tradition that cries out for reinstatement. Let Al Gore and George W. Bush go home and remain there in decorous silence until November.

No, critics will say, that would only make things worse. The campaign would be taken over by gaudily negative advertising and spinmeister surrogates far more vicious and irresponsible than the actual candidates.

This is where New Age politics joins hands with 19th century precedent. I propose that the candidates get out of their rocking chairs one night a week and participate in a kind of post-Clinton presidential Olympics, an event that might, in the TV listings, be called Who Wants to Be a President? The game would consist of a series of challenges, exemplary events that would test the candidates while sparing the public their self-serving improvisations.

A sampling of the events:

--Take charge at the scene of an accident before the police arrive. Perform CPR.

--Diaper a baby. (A real mess, please.)

--Do 50 push-ups.

--Attempt simultaneous translation of a half-hour speech by Strom Thurmond.

--Prepare a dinner for eight with two hours' notice, using only what food is available in the house.

--Complete the following joke: a priest and a rabbi meet while they are out walking their dogs. They are old friends. The priest is walking a golden retriever, the rabbi a Chihuahua. They decide to go to a nearby restaurant for lunch...

--Fire an employee in such a way that he leaves the building saying, "Bless you, Mr. Gore/Mr. Bush!"

--Draw a freehand map of the world. Fill in the capital cities, heads of state, principal industries and most important crops.

--In September write an essay entitled "What I Did Last Summer to Prepare for the Presidency of the U.S."

--Grand finale: define the word is.

Ideas for other challenges will surface. My son Justin suggests that each candidate be asked to demonstrate a proficiency in dancing the lambada, the forbidden dance of love. I reject the idea. It does not comport with the dignity of the office.