The Virginian-Pilot
                             THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT 
              Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.

DATE: Monday, February 13, 1995              TAG: 9502130055
SECTION: LOCAL                    PAGE: B1   EDITION: FINAL 
TYPE: Column 
SOURCE: Guy Friddell 
                                             LENGTH: Medium:   69 lines

QUAYLE SHOWS HE NOW CAN KEEP HIS WITS ABOUT HIM

Give Dan Quayle this: He taught us all how to spell potatoe.

And now he's leaving the presidential campaign to become ``a better husband, a better father.

``And perhaps some day a better president.''

Which raised a vision of J. Danforth Quayle ushering us into 2000, a case of our thumbing our nose at all the august prophecies of where we would be that momentous year.

Makes you wish you could cast a vote for him, dancing along the abyss, just to confound fate.

His bow-out on NBC's ``Meet the Press'' was lively, fast-paced, even to his skidding on occasional words.

And he found a spousal excuse.

Host Tim Russert asked whether he or Marilyn would run for governor.

He needed time to reflect, Quayle said, but if she runs, he'd back her.

In assessing the 1996 candidates, Gwen Ifill of The New York Times noted that Marilyn had said of Phil Gramm, ``He is not very well thought of in the Senate, even among Republicans.''

Did Dan agree?

``I don't know. I wasn't there, but I can't imagine Marilyn saying something like that,'' he said.

That is the best defense yet for covering one's spouse as well as oneself. And he did it off the cuff.

Ifill, with the pertinacity of a snapping turtle: ``You can't remember her saying something like that?''

Quayle, dogged: ``I can't remember her saying something like that.''

Ifill, hanging on: ``About Lamar Alexander, she said he was basically trying to throw money at the campaign in order to buy the presidency or the nomination.''

``I - I don't know what - ''

Ifill, adamant: ``She didn't say those things?''

``Well, you're going to have to ask her. Don't ask me. But I just can't imagine her saying things like that,'' Quayle said.

Ifill, pressing: ``And you're going to talk to her about it, I guess.''

``Well, I'm not going to go that far.'' Quayle replied.

``OK, you don't want to talk about it today. Let's talk about abortion,'' she said.

And drew from him an admission he can't be part of applying litmus tests to candidates.

Then Russert quizzed him for having said Social Security is in a crisis. Quayle said the word ``voluntary'' had to be ``taken off the table'' in favor of ``flexibility,'' encouraging people ``to think of other ways to have retirement income besides Social Security.''

It would be ``ridiculous'' to put in the Constitution ``you can't touch Social Security.'' He advocated cutting the rates of increase.

In 1988 in New Orleans, George Bush picked Quayle as his running mate, and he, bounding onto the outdoor stage, grabbed Bush's hand, slapped him on the back.

It was like a sitcom debut, ``Father Knows Best.'' Some hooted in 1992 when he tied family values to Murphy Brown. But nobody quailed last month when Newt Gingrich advised us to see ``Boys Town.''

And Sunday, Quayle held his own with two pros. He's grown.

And gone. ILLUSTRATION: Dan Quayle showed he's less susceptible to intimidation.

by CNB