TODAY'S VIEWPOINT
Superficial standards for elected officials
RHETA GRIMSLEY JOHNSON

If we keep judging presidential candidates in an Atlantic City sort of way, we'll continue to get what we richly deserve. The American voting public already is ridiculous with its standards . . .

Turns out, George Washington, father of our country, did not own and wear wooden false teeth. His false teeth were made of precious ivory, but stained a brownish color from the red wine that Washington preferred and often drank.

Or at least that's what a credible historian said on my radio. I heard that startling bit of trivia while traveling between here and yon. And all these years I'd thought poor George sported an inferior set of choppers.

This esoteric bit surfaced while the physical attributes of all three presidential candidates are being discussed endlessly between primaries and debates. You can't turn on the tube without hearing about Hillary's thick ankles or baggy eyes. She, being the female, gets the worst of the critiques, of course.

Mostly, commentators describe Obama as "young and handsome," and McCain as "stalwart and distinguished." Nobody says Obama has big ears and McCain chipmunk chops. That wouldn't be fair.

With Hillary, it's about the pantsuits and hair. Editorial cartoonists have a field day with a woman in the news who is not model thin or movie-star gorgeous.

During all this, I am reminded of a wonderful quote by the renowned photographer Yousuf Karsh. He captured with his camera anyone who ever generated a headline, from Ernest Hemingway to Audrey Hepburn.

He famously said of Eleanor Roosevelt: "When she came in, I thought she was the homeliest woman I had ever seen -- and when she left, the most beautiful!"

Karsh had good sense. He knew superficial beauty for what it's worth. Or, as my paternal grandmother once wisely said, "Beauty sags just like ugly."

If we keep judging presidential candidates in an Atlantic City sort of way, we'll continue to get what we richly deserve. The American voting public already is ridiculous with its standards for male candidates. One recent study said we mostly choose our leaders by name recognition and the campaign colors.

Throw a woman into the mix and it really gets interesting -- or revolting.

Much has been made of Nixon's sweat and Kennedy's calm in the first televised presidential debate. Appearance probably always mattered -- a little -- but with television, appearance became critical. Cool Kennedy won out over sweaty Tricky Dick.

Wine-stained teeth surely wouldn't cut it these days of 24-hour television exposure. Especially if the tarnished teeth were worn by a woman.

The best presidential candidate ever to lose, for my money, was Adlai Stevenson. Imagine if his holey shoe -- the sole deprivation seen 'round the world -- were worn by a candidate today. I guess that would keep the talking heads busy for days, analyzing the candidate's lack of sartorial splendor.

I've recently had occasion to think about this issue. A little book I've written about the Louisiana swamp is off the press, and I'm out and about hawking copies in libraries and meeting halls.

I don't own many nice clothes. To write a book about the Louisiana swamp you spend lots of time in the Louisiana swamp. The rest of my time I spend in an isolated hollow in North Mississippi where Lord never met Taylor. I don't dress for work.

Friends who enjoy and need fine clothes more than I have offered up their wardrobes as freely as neighbor women used to loan cups of sugar for cookie recipes. I now have a bed full of beautiful jackets and sweet sweaters and gauzy scarves from which to choose.

But what do clothes have to do with words. If I look stylish, is the book any better? Am I to be the cover the book is judged by?

I know for certain the clothes issue alone would keep me from seeking public office. The first time some wag criticized my style or weight, I'd head straight for the Dior.

(c) 2008 Rheta Grimsley Johnson Distributed by King Features Syndicate