ELIZABETH DOLE DEFIES CATEGORIZATION. She is admirable (one of the “10 Most Admired Women” according to Good Housekeeping). She is fascinating (one of the “10 Most Fascinating” according to Barbara Walters). She is inspiring (the “Most Inspiring Political Figure of 1996” according to MSNBC). She is woman (“Woman of the Year,” said Glamour).
Beyond that, Elizabeth Dole — “E.D.” to her husband — is mystery wrapped in enigma. Since she resigned as Red Cross director in January to run for president, Dole has gone on a national evasion tour. When Katie Couric solicited her opinion on impeachment, Dole demurred until “an appropriate time.” When Wolf Blitzer asked where she stood on abortion, an issue she’s “wrestled” with for two decades, Dole said, “At this point, I really don’t want to get into political issues.” At a campaign stop in Arizona, her aides bullied and body-blocked reporters to keep them from creating an embarrassing situation — like asking the candidate what she thinks.
But there’s one issue Dole is willing to talk about: her success. She has always been something of an achievement fetishist. Her Who’s Who listing is twice as long as her husband’s. And Dole can recite every plaudit she’s ever earned, from her third-grade Bird Club presidency to the silver loving cup show won in a fire-prevention essay contest. Indeed, since she announced the formation of her exploratory committee two weeks ago, Dole has talked about little else, making appearances at three Peter Lowe’s Success seminars.
Based in Tampa, Peter Lowe is one of the nation’s foremost motivational speakers. As a 22-year-old calculator salesman in 1981, Lowe decided instead to sell positive thinking and the prosperity gospel pioneered by Norman Vincent Peale and Napoleon Hill. Orange-haired and goggle-eyed, Lowe has suspect taste in suits, a bottomless quiver of cliches, and a willowy voice spiked with bionic peppiness that makes him sound like Doug Henning on a St. John’s wort bender. But what Lowe lacks in palatability, he compensates for with healthy five-figure checks dispensed to an impressive roster of speakers — the likes of Colin Powell, Bill Cosby, and Muhammad Ali. And it works. The middle-income masses, on leave from their dreary cubicles, pack arenas to hear the imparted wisdom of Lowe’s celebrity lineup. At a success seminar, attendees “itemize goals,” “implement new strategies,” and pay small fortunes for easy-to-use formulas that will help them lose weight, attain financial security, and make hungry love to their dimpled wives.
Elizabeth Dole has been a staple at these events for years (though she won’t disclose her fee, it has been reported at $ 20,000 per speech). At last week’s Lowe seminar in Washington, D.C.’s MCI Center, she was joined by the usual cavalcade of pep-talkers. Crystal Cathedral minister Robert Schuller shared his “Ten Commandments for Successful Living,” while motivational speaker Brian Tracy explained that to be successful, “you can’t be with people who talk failure. . . . You want to get around other people who are happy and positive and optimistic.” (This may explain why Dole left her husband at home).
In the concourse, Zig Ziglar, the dean of motivational speakers, was signing autographs for fans. As one woman enthused about his book Steps to the Top, he told her, “The most important advice I’ll give you today” is to pick up his new title Over the Top, a theme aptly illustrated by his cufflinks: two diamond-caked, northward-pointing arrows. John Walsh, host of America’s Most Wanted, explained his path to success (his son was murdered, he got a television show). And those really thirsting for insight paid an extra $ 100 or so to have lunch with retired quarterback Joe Montana. As he gave explicit descriptions of how an opponent once crunched his metacarpal bone, we chocked down turkey cold cuts.
Lowe himself gave us the soft sell, saying that buying his tapes was like “eating food.” He shared his “Five Levels of Success,” then showed video of himself bungee jumping, which was important in helping him move “out of my comfort zone.” We were all moved out of our comfort zones as Peter’s wife, Tamara, took the state in her snug pantsuit and headset microphone. Her mission: to warm us up for Dole. After commanding us to “cut loose,” “dust off your rude things,” and get the “pent-up party” out of our systems, she conducted an arena-wide dance contest where portly middle managers engaged in the Monkey, the Twist, and the Swim in hopes of winning a Disney World vacation. Francis, a grown man in a Daffy Duck tie, won by doing a jig best described as the Epileptic.
Satisfied that we had “rocked the house,” Tamara introduced Elizabeth Dole. She emerged to the theme from Star Wars, while two stage-side cannons belched red, white, and blue ticker tape explosions, making us wonder if we hadn’t tripped into a Paul Revere and the Raiders reunion concert. Suited up in her customary rig (red dress, understated pearls, windup key in her back), Dole earned praise from the Mary Kay consultant sitting next to me: “She’s kind of an autumn,” said Rina, “so red’s a good power color.”
Though reporters continuously moon over Dole’s ability to leave the rostrum and walk into the crowd without notes (here, she tried to move around, but diving off the five-foot stage would’ve been bell on her pumps), she has a well-earned reputation for being over-rehearsed. During her Red Cross resignation announcement, a piece of tape on the floor marked where Dole would stand to take a “spontaneous” question before her exit. And even in front of a crowd that could be characterized as glee club in golf knits, Dole proved once again that she is about as natural as her hair color.
She led with a “joke,” a blow-by-blow account of a three-year-old Tonight Show segment in which she appeared on a motorcycle with Jay Leno. She had no discernible punchline, other than her own delighted “Oh my!” — which came out sounding as if she’d just spilled her tea at a Daughters of the Confederacy reception. Dole’s campaign aides, well aware that she needs to overcome her Stepford-wife image if she’s to overtake Bush, call her opening vignette “impromptu campaign humor” (never mind that she’s been telling the same story for years). When she turns serious, things actually get more amusing. In an Iowa speech two weeks ago, she established that her “passion doesn’t come from polling,” although the passion doesn’t show, and nothing she says is controversial enough to warrant polling. Her campaign Web site, which does poll visitors, asks them to rank in order of importance such hot-poker issues as “stopping drug abuse” and “promoting integrity in government.”
Which is not to say that reporters cannot safely inter what she’s about. Apparently, she is a woman (she spends two pages of a seven page speech on womanhood), who is enthused about how far women have come (they can now get into the Metropolitan Club), though they have not come far enough. Still, change is gonna come, because, and here’s a novel idea, “in today’s fast-paced world, the only constant is change.”
Elizabeth Dole is not a Pollyanna, though. She is troubled that not enough good people are entering government service. Until a paragraph or so later, when she is troubled that the government is “too big, too bloated, too complex.” She is a woman of conviction, invoking the courage of the Founding Fathers, who were willing to endure poverty and even death for their principles. On the other hand, Dole prefers “consensus over confrontation.” But still, there are some things worth fighting for. Dole went on record that she is for responsibility and altruism. She is against violence and drugs. She is for courage and discipline. She is against illegitimacy and incivility. She is for teaching children math. She is against — and she hasn’t even poll-tested this one — illiteracy. She is for “parents, principals, and pastors.” She is against “molesters, stalkers, and abusers.”
When Dole finished to an obligatory standing ovation, one expected to find enthusiasts galore in the concourse. This was, after all, a Peter Lowe’s Success seminar, a place where skepticism is usually suspended (consider what attendees spend buying products from a guy named “Zig”). Instead, Dave, a home improvement salesman says “I’m kind of disappointed. . . . Help the kids, stop the drugs, all the bulls –. It’s generic.” Justin, a computer sales rep, falls into flat-out mockery: “I’m for education and feeding our kids and making our streets safe,” he mimics in Dole’s Piedmont drawl. “No, I’m against that.” Even her fans seem dispassionate, like Ken Wagner, who says, “I thought she was doing very well, until unconsciousness overtook me.”
For an arena full of pie-eyed self-helpsters, it sure was a tough crowd. Dole might want to take a cue from her friend Peter Lowe. “That’s what winners do, they know how to take a risk,” he said. “You think Elizabeth Dole has had to step up out of her comfort zone and take a risk?” Luckily for her, the question was rhetorical.
Matt Labash is a staff writer at THE WEEKLY STANDARD.
