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Over in the corner stood a display about local television icon “The Floppy Show,” starring the late Duane Ellett. That show’s not coming back.

Above the stage hung a biplane – a marvel in its day, but it will never fly again.

Near the front entrance loomed the skeleton of a prehistoric mammoth. Probably no comeback there, unless certain scientists’ dreams come true.

But up there on stage at the State Historical Building, bathed in TV lights, backed by sign-holding supporters, stood the would-be Comeback Kid himself. Last week, Terry Branstad launched yet another campaign for governor.

One-time gubernatorial candidate Doug Gross was in the crowd, and allowed afterwards that once was enough for him. But then, he lost in his only start out of the gate. The remarkable thing about Branstad is that the guy never loses.

Des Moines University board member Steve Morain was on hand, too, and joked about his advice to Branstad about quitting the school’s presidency to embark on another political fistfight. Maybe we should take you to the psych ward, was his advice.

Nobody is actually questioning the man’s sanity, but a lot of people do want to know: Why?

You might say that campaigning for high public office has only two possible results, both of them bad. Either you lose, which in this case would put a sour finish on a sweet record, or you win after being criticized, ridiculed, humbled and tired out by months of running around the state to shake hands.

In the latter case, though, you do win; apparently the victory is worth the cost.

Branstad tells crowds that he believes things have gone wrong, and he’s the person to fix them.

But that’s what all candidates say, possibly as early as the first badly organized construction paper project in kindergarten.

There must be more to this than that. Standing in the TV lights and hearing the applause must outweigh the experience of dealing with the media afterwards.

The limo and the office must make up for the arguments and the frustrations.

Branstad is 63, which isn’t old for a governor or any kind of leader. The trend, however, is to stack up significant money and retire by 60 or so.

Clearly, the biggest career problem Branstad ever has faced was peaking too soon. He was just 36 when he became the youngest governor in Iowa history. After holding the office longer than anyone else, he had to come up with something else to do at 52.

He opened a law office, then joined a law firm, then served as a financial adviser. In 2003, he became president of Des Moines University, and by all appearances and reports did a fine job.

Who wouldn’t want to be the president of a thriving little college? Most people would stick with that instead of re-entering an arena where you get grilled about questionable decisions from 20 years ago.

And when reporters aren’t digging at you, your fellow candidates are. Branstad assured the cluster of cameras and notebooks – just like the good old days! – that he intends to run a positive campaign. He plans to speak no ill of other Republicans. But then, when you’re the front-runner, you don’t have to.

And yes, the polls say he’s the guy to beat. Why is that? Even in his prime, Branstad was never a great public speaker, and he may have lost a step since. He has always seemed like a nice guy, but we really do expect nice guys to finish, if not last, at least out of the playoffs.

Maybe it’s political savvy that the public doesn’t get to witness in action, or just some basic Iowa appeal, that makes him a winner.

Still, an observer might think that even star performers should accept the end of their turn on stage.

Branstad sees it differently. The polls suggest he can win. He always wins.

So why not run?