It’s A Wonder That Dull Stevie Shines

Let scientists argue whether there’s life on other planets. Out here in Iowa, inquiring minds wonder: Is there life in Steve Forbes?

I mean, has this guy ever done anything spontaneous? Gotten red-necked mad, cussed, told a raw joke, imbibed too many martinis? Is he human or a rich zombie?

Sure, Stevie (The Wonder) Forbes is 1996’s phenomenon, a flaming comet who crashed into the Republican presidential galaxy. Nobody knows whether he’ll quickly burn out (possible), win a primary or two (likely) or be the GOP nominee (very doubtful).

But now we know his secret: $17,922,585.61.

That’s the amazing pile of dough Forbes reported he spent to hype his political glory - and only through 1995. He blew $10 million on TV ads. In Des Moines you can’t click on ESPN, CNN or a soap opera without staring at Forbes’ goofy, beaming grin.

“He’s in my face 24 hours a day,” said one political activist. “I feel like I’m being stalked.”

Yet, despite his store-bought fame, Forbes is a Robo-Candidate, a mechanical doll with a tape recorder implanted under his 1950s haircut. Ask a question, the tape hums: “Growth, prosperity, flat tax.”

Can Forbes be this dull, programmed and robotic? If he’s such a multimillionaire nerd, why is he driving Bob Dole and other Republicans into angry panic?

Well, here he comes now. The silver-and-red bus plastered with blue “Forbes for President” signs rolls down the snow-rimmed highway. He’s 50 minutes late at the Farmland Insurance complex where 150 employees wait.

He’s almost alone on the bus. When he gets off, he’s engulfed by cameras and microphones, sure sign of a trendy candidate. Forbes brushes past them, grinning at the attention like a new kid in a strange school.

Here’s a first but enduring impression: This is a shy man, an introvert who finds the rough-and-tumble of politics painful. He’s a wallflower forcing himself on the stage - why is the mystery.

Inside, the Dixieland band winds down and Forbes does his stand-up routine. He flashes his teddy-bear grin often. But he talks in a Jersey-accented monotone, his gestures wooden as a railway crossing signal.

When he starts reciting his flat-tax numbers, my eyelids droop. This is Reaganomics without Reagan’s charm. If you wired Steve Forbes to a Charisma Meter, he wouldn’t budge the needle.

The crowd only stirs to life when he says he’ll “change the culture of Washington.” He calls it the Washington Game (and he’s right): Politicians changed the tax laws in exchange for campaign money.

“I’ll scrap it, kill it, bury it and hope it never rises again to terrorize the American people,” says Forbes, as close as he gets to passion.

They applaud. At the end they chuckle when Forbes repeats his oft-used line: The only Washington program he’ll keep is retraining IRS agents.

Then he ducks back in his bus, waving dorkishly from the window. It’s all mystifying: This is the monster who is the terror of Dole, Phil Gramm, Lamar Alexander and Richard Lugar, pros who have spent 20 to 30 years in politics?

Earlier in the day, I asked Alexander about Forbes. “I wish he’d run for the school board before he tries the White House,” he said. “I think he’ll flame out, but he’s the most astounding phenom I’ve seen in a political life.”

Gramm told a bunch of soybean farmers here, “Forbes is buying a phony image. He’s got a 520-acre estate and pays $2,100 in taxes to raise polo ponies.”

But the folks I encountered at Forbes speech caught a glimmer they liked: The anti-politician, a Perot-like maverick, a no-frills rookie untainted by the Washington swamp.

And besides, he’s Mr. Nice Guy who doesn’t bicker and gripe - he lets his attack ads wield the dagger.

“He’d have a fresh slant on Washington. He’d shake it up,” said insurance employee Deb Lemar. “You don’t have to know a lot of detail like Dole or Clinton.”“Oh, he’s a little stiff and nervous,” said Louis Cross, who voted for Perot in ‘92. “But that flax tax sounds good. The money guys can’t buy him off.”

I suspect Forbes will finish in the top three in Iowa and might even win New Hampshire. But once he gets South, where folks like their oratory served raw and hot, Stevie the Wonder will fade into obscurity.

Who knows? Maybe the country’s ready for a shy, nice zealot who inherited a magazine empire, yacht, helicopter, Pacific island and Normandy chateau. Anything’s possible if Forbes’ tape recorder doesn’t jam.

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