Dean's outburst shows that he cares.

Byline: Paul Neville The Register-Guard

What a world. There is serious talk that Howard Dean could lose the race for the Democratic presidential nomination because of his spontaneous, impassioned - and thoroughly human - response to his disappointing third-place finish in the Iowa caucuses. Not, mind you, because of his positions on the war in Iraq, the economy, environment or health care. But because of a heartfelt rallying cry to his supporters that lasted less than a minute.

Admittedly, it was an unusual response - unusual in its honesty, candor and depth. The former governor of Vermont stood before several thousand devastated campaign workers who were looking for hope and a reason to believe that the Dean campaign could rebound after its abysmal showing in Iowa.

There was Dean, exhausted and hoarse from weeks of campaigning. His coat was off, his sleeves were rolled up, and his voice was hoarse - the voice of a man determined to find a way to reinvigorate his campaign.

``Not only are we going to New Hampshire ... we're going to South Carolina and Oklahoma and Arizona and North Dakota and New Mexico, and we're going to California and Texas and New York,'' Dean said, fists pumping as he spoke. ``And we're going to South Dakota and Oregon and Washington and Michigan. And then we're going to Washington, D.C. To take back the White House."

Then, from deep within the candidate's gut came a vocal exclamation mark that some have described as a "yowl," others as a "screech" or "war whoop." "YEEEEEEAAAAAAAAGGGGGHHHHHHH," is the closest I can come to transcribing it.

Now, heaven help us all, there is speculation that Dean's "Iowa moment" has mortally wounded his bid for the White House.

Remixers are hard at work on the Internet, remastering Dean's exhortation with Ozzy Osbourne's "Crazy Train," Guns N' Roses' "Welcome to the Jungle" and even James Brown's "I Feel Good." On late night TV, Jay Leno observed: ``I'm not an expert in politics, but I think it's a bad sign when your speech ends with your aides shooting you with a tranquilizer gun.'' David Letterman showed a video of Dean in which the candidate's head exploded at the end of the speech, then quipped: ``Here's a little tip, Howard: cut back on the Red Bull.''

Fair enough. Any political candidate - or anyone else brave and foolhardy enough to venture on to the public stage - should do so in the full knowledge that they could end up being the butt of such jokes. So you grin, shrug it off, hit the late-show circuit for a few self-deprecating laughs - and then get back to the serious business of campaigning.

Right? Wrong.

Suddenly, people who surely know better are suggesting that Dean's "rant heard 'round the world" revealed a disturbing, "unpresidential" side of his character. "He showed people what they were most afraid of about him," said one pollster in New Hampshire. ``He's a very rational, pleasant human being, but he looked like a rabid dog - to say he appeared unpresidential is an understatement,'' observed the publisher of a nonpartisan D.C. political newsletter.

Enough already. We've all had our little laugh. Now, can we please get back to the serious business of the political campaign and deciding who will stand at this nation's helm in the extraordinarily critical years to come?

The idea that Dean's Iowa moment reveals him to be unqualified for the presidency - or, as a few have suggested, a border-line psychotic - is pathetic and ludicrous. If Dean's concession speech costs him his bid for the White House, then Americans will have revealed themselves to be every bit as callous, shallow, petty and, yes, stupid, as some of their foreign detractors have claimed.

In more than two decades as a newspaper reporter, I had the privilege of observing people under stress - from crews battling forest fires to police confronting protesters to politicians grappling with defeat. You learn a lot about people when you watch how they react to difficult circumstances.

I saw nothing in Dean's speech that revealed anything even remotely unhealthy or disturbing. Instead of anger or rage, I saw a man who cared deeply and who was dealing with an unexpected setback. I saw a man who found the strength to speak honestly and passionately to his supporters and summon them to keep up the fight.

I have yet to decide who I want to see occupy the Oval Office next year. But it's hard for me to interpret fierce determination in the face of crushing disappointment as somehow unpresidential or even dangerous.

Over the years there have been other presidential candidates undone, sometimes unfairly, by such moments. They include Edmund Muskie apparently shedding tears over a campaign attack on his wife, to Bob Dole's snarling challenge to George H.W. Bush to ``stop lying about my record'' after losing the 1988 New Hampshire primary.

It strikes me as strange, perhaps even unhealthy, that many Americans want their political candidates to keep their emotions tightly corked in a bottle. Maybe that's because I'm old enough to remember other politicians who did just that and how our country suffered as a consequence. Richard Nixon comes immediately to mind - now there was a guy who was great at keeping his public emotions in control.

Dean's Iowa moment should remain just that - a moment in Iowa. At this point, I don't know who will win my support in the months to come. But I know that I'll be watching Dean and his fellow Democratic candidates as they move through New Hampshire, South Carolina, Oklahoma, Arizona, North Dakota, New Mexico, California, Texas, New York, South Dakota, Oregon, Washington and, Michigan.

Why, the prospect's enough to make a person howl: "YEEEEEEAAAAAAAAGGGGGHHHHHHH."

Paul Neville is an associate editor at The Register-Guard.