I write with the deepest of fondness for a former official of the sovereign state of Missouri, the late Haskell Holman. For years, and what seemed like even more years, the departed Haskell Holman was the State Auditor of Missouri, elected by a majority of qualified voters in numerous elections in the heyday of Democratic supremacy in Jefferson City.

To deny that Haskell Holman was a superb politician would be like saying Bill Clinton didn't relish the pomp and ceremony of the Oval Office. A one-time county official, Haskell made the big time in state politics with a great deal of organizational support and even larger quantities of personal contact in every one of our large state's 114 counties.

To Haskell, county-by-county canvassing was not an odious task. Unlike so many others who have learned first-hand just how large our state is, Haskell enjoyed going from county to county, walking the dank, dreary corridors of courthouse after courthouse, shaking hands with every passerby he met, regardless of appearance or demeanor. When the former State Auditor died, one politician observed that the only thing missing at the visitation was the appearance of the deceased shaking hands with every mourner in the room.

Speaking of funerals, while I was standing outside a small Catholic Church in St. Louis waiting for the family of Mark Eagleton to emerge, a figure came up behind me and, tapping me on the shoulder, inquired "What's new politically?" I don't have to tell you, do I, that the inquisitor was none other than our mutual friend Haskell.

Meaning not the slightest disrespect, this friendly Democrat practiced what countless other politicians, not only in Missouri but across every state in America, have practiced since the days of Tom Jefferson and Jim Madison. Nothing assures political success quite like constant campaigning, sometimes even when it appears to be a 24-hour-a-day occupation.

What surprises me is that so many problem solvers ignore this syndrome when considering what remedies should be adopted to achieve the long pursued reform of our American campaign system. Looking for the quick fix by limiting campaign contributions or disenfranchising certain groups of citizens provides an easy solution, yet all of these have already been ruled unconstitutional by supreme courts everywhere.

Indeed, as long as campaign contributions are legally ruled to be components of the First Amendment, we shall fail in the quest for cleaner, faster and sensible elections. The temptation to engage in gutter tactics that will influence large groups of more or less itinerant, one could even say ignorant, voters, guarantees failure in sanctifying democratic elections.

The mere smell of big money in campaigns is enough to incite the juices of even the least political among us. The ability to strike one's electoral enemy with decisive force has its genesis in money, and this commodity comes only if candidates must engage in a constant campaign mode, a la Haskell Holman. Just to wage a mediocre congressional campaign these days requires a candidate to secure contributions of at least $150,000 a year, and that's a conservative figure. How do the candidates raise that kind of money, year in and year out, and still tend to their official duties? Well, obviously they campaign for it. They campaign not for the job, offering thoughtful solutions to difficult problems, but for the cash they must have even to be considered a nominal candidate.

In essence, any candidate for a state, congressional or federal office must do what Haskell Holman did: campaign seven days a week, four and a third weeks a month, 12 months a year. Oh, they don't have to hit every two-bit county fair like Haskell, but dare they miss any big events, clear across the state, afraid opponents will be there with hats outstretched?

One wonders how some officeholders have time to tend to official duties. The awful truth is some don't. They're too busy looking for open checkbooks, anywhere, from anyone.

How do we stop this travesty? Well, one solution is to revert to the tenure restrictions of state constitutions written in the last century: we limit state and federal officeholders to one term and no more. The trade off is that we wind up with less experienced public officials, but we end the constant campaigning of present and future Haskell Holmans. Don't like my solution? I'm anxious to hear yours.

~Jack Stapleton of Kennett is the editor of the Missouri News and Editorial Service.