Why The Roll Must Be Called In Denver

There's been a lot of excitement lately about the announcement that Hillary Clinton would have her name placed in nomination at the Democratic convention next week in Denver, along with that of presumed nominee Barack Obama. A roll call vote will then be taken to determine the delegates' preference.

That such traditional arrangements should generate so much news is perhaps a demonstration of how short our memories are.

Not so long ago, Democrats routinely entered the names of runner-up candidates in nomination if there had been any significant contest in the primaries. Even Jerry Brown, a distant finisher behind Bill Clinton in 1992, organized a "Let Jerry Speak" campaign and got a roll call vote (as did an even more distant finisher, Paul Tsongas).

Jesse Jackson had his name placed in nomination in 1988 -- and had an entire evening built around his major address to the convention, even though the nomination of Michael Dukakis was not in doubt and had not been for several months.

Four years before that, silver medalist Gary Hart also got a big splashy moment (introduced by Aaron Copland's majestic "Fanfare for the Common Man") and a roll call -- even though he came to that convention with no chance of catching former Vice President Walter Mondale.

Hart had been in the hunt all the way and might even have given that convention some suspense had he not been thumped in New Jersey on the final primary day (even as he won California).

Going back one more cycle, to 1980, Ted Kennedy flailed against his fate all the way through the convention, resisting the renomination of Jimmy Carter with a blistering oration still remembered as a signal moment in convention history.

Of course, thinking back on 1980 reminds us why the star treatment for the runner-up has been discomfiting for nominees (and the party) in the past. Carter was thoroughly upstaged by his defeated rival, and the party did not soon recover -- not that November (Ronald Reagan won big) and not for years afterward. Even now, the Carter-Kennedy divide lives in the hearts and minds of all party activists of a certain age.

To a lesser degree, the party splits of 1984 and 1988 also weakened Mondale and Dukakis, and helped the Republicans carry a combined 89 of the possible 100 states in those two elections. No wonder many Democrats hoped that whoever lost the long duel between Clinton and Obama this year would forgo a featured role in Denver.

But there was not much they could do but hope. Giving up the chance to share the limelight in Denver would have been a gesture of extraordinary generosity from either Clinton or Obama, but it was never likely to happen. After all, Clinton won more votes, more events and more delegates than anyone ever has without winning the nomination. And the same would have been true of Obama, had Clinton managed to overtake him at the finish.

Moreover, this year's runner-up has to know the nominee might fall short in November. And in that event, the contest for the 2012 nomination will begin immediately. Why would Hillary Clinton sacrifice her chance to put her marker down? If the delegate count were going the other way, Obama would feel the same.

The expectation of a convention with no clash has been created by three straight cycles in which neither party had a primary process that lasted long enough to produce a bona fide high-profile runner-up.

Bill Clinton was renominated without opposition in 1996; Al Gore vanquished Bill Bradley in the opening round in 2000; and John Kerry, in 2004, obviated any special gesture to John Edwards by putting him on the ticket.

On the GOP side, the streak of quick picks has lasted into this cycle. Bob Dole had it wrapped up in early March in 1996; George W. Bush, by about the same time in 2000. Bush ran unopposed for renomination in 2004, and this year it was all over but the shouting after Super Tuesday (Feb. 5).

So, once again, the Republicans have no frustrated alternative champion who must be placated this year. But the Democrats do, and the Obama forces wisely recognized they had to do all they could to soothe both the Clintons' feelings and those of their supporters.

Falling back on the time-tested formula of a runner-up night was the obvious call. And breaking up the all-Clinton-all-the-time format on the second night with keynoter Mark Warner (former governor of Virginia, probable senator from Virginia and likely future presidential candidate in his own right) might be just the right counterpoint -- and punctuation point, too.