Al Gore's problem is not that he lacks a sense of humor -- he's just not showing it.
Nov 29, 1999 | The wooden jokes about Al Gore were just reaching their peak in 1994 when two aides, wearing hard hats and jumpsuits, loaded the vice president onto a dolly and wheeled him onstage at the annual Gridiron Club dinner. As they propped him up next to the lectern and the emcee signed for him, the crowd at the Fourth Estate's annual talent show convulsed in laughter.
A perfectly rigid Gore just stood there, barely blinking -- for nearly a minute.
By all accounts, it was an outstanding comic achievement. It was also a rare glimpse of a different side of Al Gore. "Bore no more," the Washington Post declared in a gushing review. While that may have proved wishful thinking, here's a little-known fact about the man consistently derided as America's most boring public servant: He has a wicked sense of humor.
The public has long known Gore as the stoic and wooden butt of late-night television gab -- a man who has occasionally busted out with some good self-deprecating jokes, but otherwise has succeeded in lulling the country to sleep over the better part of the last decade. There is another Al Gore, however, who bears surprisingly little resemblance to that caricature: a man who, in private, is disarmingly loose and funny, blindingly quick and given to spontaneous mischief-making.
It is a side of Gore that few have seen. But as he runs an uphill race for the presidency, as much against his own image as against anyone else, it is a side his advisors desperately hope he learns to project.
The public has seen flashes of Gore's wry humor over the years, most notably during his 1993 appearance on the "Late Show with David Letterman."
He went for rim-shot zingers, addressed Letterman at one point as "pinhead" and brought along his own Top 10 list citing the good things about being vice president. Among them: "If you close your left eye, the seal on the podium reads: 'President of the United States.'"
One of his better recent performances, which aides insist he winged, came earlier this month on MSNBC's "Imus in the Morning" show. Taking a jab at Texas Gov. George W. Bush, who had recently flunked a foreign-policy pop quiz from a reporter, Gore dropped name after name of obscure foreign leaders with deadpan bravura.
"He has a good sense of timing," said Elaine Kamarck, Gore's chief domestic policy advisor. "For somebody who's reputedly not a good speaker, it's surprising what a sort of expert comedian he is."
But the truly vintage moments have occurred off camera. That's where Gore's zany tendencies, dry wit and appreciation of the absurd have truly shone, according to current and former staff members and advisors.
Take his 1992 campaign plane -- the "flying zoo," as one reporter described it. Then-Sen. Gore, trying his hand at a time-honored campaign sport, would sit at the back of the plane and roll oranges up the aisle during takeoff to try to hit the crew's door. He also proved an expert "aisle surfer" -- standing on a plastic tray during takeoff and using the plane's thrust to propel him past rows of cheering staff members and reporters.
Although the mood is considerably more staid these days aboard Air Force Two, Gore still occasionally cuts loose. Earlier this year, during a trip to South Africa, he took to the aisle to learn the steps to the "Booty Call" after a reporter convinced him he needed to abandon his tired Macarena bit in favor of a hipper dance.
Get Salon in your mailbox!