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What Do We Want From Presidential Also-Rans?

Credit...Lauren Tamaki

After Hillary Clinton’s defeat in the presidential election, nearly two-thirds of Americans say they want her to retire. But they don’t say from what.

We’ve never been quite sure what to do with our also-rans. William Howard Taft, having been defeated by Woodrow Wilson in 1912, became the 10th chief justice of the United States Supreme Court, which as fallback plans go is not half bad. On the other hand, after Horace Greeley lost to Ulysses S. Grant in 1872, he checked into an asylum. Greeley died on Nov. 29, just 24 days after his loss, before the Electoral College votes had even been counted. The cause of death was listed as “brain fever.”

Assuming that Mrs. Clinton is neither appointed to the Supreme Court nor succumbs to brain fever, what is it that we want from her? What do we want from anyone who has sought our affections and failed?

Our presidential also-rans are like a democracy’s version of a crazy ex-boyfriend, or -husband (or -girlfriend or -wife). In some instances, you hope that you can continue a civil relationship, for the good of the children. Other times, your best option is a restraining order.

This situation didn’t begin with Mrs. Clinton, of course. To get a sense of perspective, you could do worse than to spend an afternoon at 105 Main Street, in Norton, Kan., which is not only the site of the First State Bank but also the They Also Ran Gallery, a collection of paintings and photographs of 61 people who have sought the presidency and lost. Founded by the banker William Walter Rouse in 1965, the gallery is one of at least two very interesting places in Norton, the other being a medium-security prison where, according to its website, inmates train and groom shelter dogs.

As you stroll around the They Also Ran Gallery, it’s hard not to notice how many of the Biggest Losers were also Biggest Winners. The very first portrait is that of Thomas Jefferson, who lost to John Adams in 1796 but went on to defeat him in 1800, meaning that the second loser in the gallery is Adams, who had been the winner four years before that. There’s a lot of this jockeying: Other also-rans include former or future also-firsts John Quincy Adams, Andrew Jackson, William Henry Harrison, Martin Van Buren, Grover Cleveland, Benjamin Harrison, William Howard Taft, Theodore Roosevelt, Herbert Hoover, Richard Nixon, Gerald Ford, Jimmy Carter and George H. W. Bush. As Bob Dylan once sang, the first one now shall later be last.

Another homely delight of the museum is learning the losers’ nicknames. Martin Van Buren (lost to William Henry Harrison and Zachary Taylor) was “the Little Magician.” Winfield Scott (lost to Franklin Pierce) was “Old Fuss and Feathers.” Alfred Smith was “the Happy Warrior.” Alf Landon was “the Poor Man’s Coolidge.” Those names are pretty charming, although one suspects that a 21st-century candidate would not, like Henry Clay, be called “the Cock of Kentucky,” unless of course he was running for a very different office.

Bob Dylan also sang that there’s no success like failure and failure’s no success at all, which puts me in mind of Michael Dukakis, a fine governor of Massachusetts but a terrible candidate for the Democrats in 1988, whose campaign is now remembered less for its ideas than for an awkward photograph of him riding in a tank.

Since his defeat, Mr. Dukakis has spared the nation a book with a title like “What Happened?” (although his wife, Kitty, bravely told the story of her addictions in her memoir “Now You Know”). This is the way we like our modern ex-candidates: humbled, dignified and silent. It’s a bizarre tradition: We choose, through our agonizing, billion-dollar ritual, two individuals who are considered to be our best and brightest. One goes on to the presidency, sometimes without even having won the popular vote. The other is expected to disappear in a puff of smoke, like Bilbo Baggins on his eleventy-first birthday.

Mrs. Clinton has raised hackles by refusing to go along with this ritual. Good for her. As the winners in the hall of losers make clear, there are plenty of good roles for also-rans to play in the life of a democracy. DeWitt Clinton (lost to James Madison) planned the Erie Canal; Samuel Tilden (lost to Rutherford B. Hayes) helped to found the New York Public Library; Al Gore Jr. (lost to George W. Bush) devoted himself to the cause of climate change and the environment and won a Nobel.

In the year 2020 — the Year of Perfect Hindsight — another loser will join the club. Will Donald Trump find himself next to Greeley (“Old White Coat”)? No, he’d find himself right next to Mrs. Clinton, whom the gallery added in January as its first female also-ran.

Depending on what the special counsel finds between now and then, though, the president might find another reason to take up residence in Norton. Who knows? There’s always training dogs at the place up the street.

A correction was made on 
Oct. 6, 2017

An Op-Ed essay on Wednesday about presidential also-rans misidentified who defeated Martin Van Buren in presidential races. He lost to William Henry Harrison in 1840 and Zachary Taylor in 1848; he did not lose to Andrew Jackson.

How we handle corrections

Jennifer Finney Boylan (@JennyBoylan), a contributing opinion writer, is a professor of English at Barnard College and the author of the novel “Long Black Veil.”

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A version of this article appears in print on  , Section A, Page 25 of the New York edition with the headline: Winning as a Presidential Also-Ran. Order Reprints | Today’s Paper | Subscribe

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