The clue was the venue. For months the suspense had been building as the nation waited for Colin Powell to decide whether he would run for President of the U.S. For two weeks, since ending a book tour that capped a surge of popular sentiment for him to join the field of candidates, the retired general had been weighing every pro and con, consulting with family and friends and agonizing over what to do. But as soon as the announcement was scheduled last Wednesday in a soulless ballroom at an unheroic Ramada hotel near his Virginia home, the Powell bubble burst. Analysts knew instantly that the dalliance was over, that an unknown but enormously appealing quantity had been deleted from the electoral calculus and that the American political landscape had shifted.

By the time a wan Powell and his relieved wife Alma stepped onto the rostrum for the globally televised news conference, the unofficial word was out, leaving only an explanation and the fallout. He had decided against running next year for the presidency "or any political office" because he had looked "deep into my soul, standing aside from the expectations and enthusiasms of others," and found that he did not have "the passion and commitment" for political life. There was a slightly pained look on his face and a regretful timbre in his voice when the former Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff and adviser to three Presidents added, "I still do not hear the call."

He acknowledged that he had anguished over the decision and had been uplifted by the reception given his potential candidacy. "In one generation we have moved from denying a black man service at a lunch counter to elevating one to the highest military office in the nation and to being a serious contender for the presidency. This is a magnificent country, and I am proud to be one of its sons." With an impressive grace, dignity and frank sincerity that have long been hallmarks of his appeal, he said family considerations had been a factor and that running for President would have required "sacrifice and changes to all our lives."

One sacrifice might have been the ultimate. Alma Powell never vetoed her husband's vacillating penchant to run, but neither did she make any secret of her fear that "some nut out there," as she put it, would try to kill the man that every national poll found had a strong chance of becoming America's first black President. Both Powells denied that concerns over personal security were a significant factor. The assassination on Nov. 4 of Israeli Prime Minister Yitzhak Rabin, a friend of General Powell's, "did not play a part in the decision," Mrs. Powell said. He had made up his mind not to run before the tragedy in Tel Aviv, but then wavered repeatedly over the next few days. The decision seemed irrevocable Monday night after a two-hour meeting with Alma; adviser Kenneth Duberstein, a colleague in the Reagan Administration; and Richard Armitage, a former Pentagon official who is Powell's best friend. "Is it over?" Duberstein finally asked toward the session's end. "It's over," Powell replied. Except that after a Tuesday speech in Philadelphia, he was on the fence again. Alma realized she wouldn't know his decision for sure until he stood in front of the cameras.

Dressed in a dark business suit at the news conference and with his wife at his side, he excluded joining the race later as an independent by announcing that he had decided to become a Republican. He would try "to broaden the appeal of the party," especially among black Americans, but not by being the Republican vice-presidential candidate next year. "If he doesn't want to be President, why would he possibly want to be Vice President?" asked Michael Deaver, a close aide to Ronald Reagan.

Most party professionals take Powell at his word, but questions remain as to whether that decision will hold if he is actually asked. There are recent conflicting precedents surrounding the veepstakes. Reagan refused a vice-presidential feeler in 1976 and won the presidency four years later. George Bush, on the other hand, pulled out of the 1980 race, accepted Reagan's offer for the No. 2 spot and in 1988 won the top job. Lyndon Johnson vigorously denied in 1960 that he would accept a vice-presidential candidacy, but when John Kennedy asked him, the Texan took it and in 1964 won on his own.

Powell did not rule out a campaign for the year 2000. That's when one of his strongest backers, the legendary p.r. and media man Tex McCrary, predicts he will move. "It took us three tries to get Eisenhower elected," said McCrary, 85. "Powell will go in the millennium, and he'll win." Maybe. Powell would say only, "The future is the future." Fair enough. Right now he simply does not know.

Whatever Powell eventually decides, his decision last week raised serious questions about presidential campaigning, including racial and sharply ideological politics. Among them are why someone with Powell's experience, personal traits and widely perceived leadership qualities should be so reluctant to join in, particularly when early polls consistently showed he had the best chance of unseating Clinton. Did he lack the "right stuff," even though many, including a majority of Republicans, liked his personality and agreed with his centrist positions, especially on social issues? Or, Americans were asking again last week, is the U.S. presidential campaign process skewed to discourage participation by those who should be in it? Does it reward candidates for passing the wrong test: surviving a grueling gauntlet that tests stamina, organization and the ability to raise huge sums of money--$20 million to succeed in the primaries--while offering little assurance that the survivor is fit to lead the nation?

To be sure, the exit choice was Powell's. He opted, as he has throughout his professional life, to avoid risk and play it safe. As a young officer he never rocked the boat. As supreme commander during the Gulf War, he was reluctant to go to war to drive Iraq out of Kuwait. Surveying the battlefield map, he wanted more divisions, more arms, better supply and communications. Analyzing his political map, he saw so much missing: ragtag organization, uncertain supply lines and, ultimately, an objective not worth fighting for. With such a prospect, a decision to run would have been out of character.

Several other big-name possible contenders are also on the Republican sidelines. Unwilling to run are former Vice President Dan Quayle, former Defense Secretary Dick Cheney, former Secretary of State James Baker and former Housing Secretary Jack Kemp. Some, like Cheney, dislike scrounging for dollars or, like Baker, are moderates who lack the fire in the belly to slug it out with the ideologues who dominate the primary process. "You have to have the virus," Baker told Powell. Others, like Quayle and Kemp, were mauled by critics and retreated to lick their wounds.

Powell felt the lash of the Republican right, and the sting made his final decision easier. Five days before he exited, a guerrilla team of conservatives attacked him for supporting gun control, legalized abortion and affirmative action while opposing prayer in schools and stringent welfare reform. They warned him against running for the Republican nomination and pledged all-out warfare if he persisted. Paul Weyrich, head of the Free Congress Research and Education Foundation, mocked Powell's military record, likening him to a Gilbert and Sullivan character who had become "ruler of the Queen's navy by polishing the handles on the big brass front door."

Powell claimed the gibes "rolled off his back." And after the bash-in by Weyrich et al., Newt Gingrich paid a secret visit to Powell. The conservative House Speaker, more rival than ally of his Senate counterpart and Republican front runner Bob Dole, tried to nudge Powell toward running, seeing him as the best hope for putting a Republican in the White House. It wasn't enough. At his news conference, the general did not begrudge the "down and dirty" aspect of the campaign. But he was less tolerant of "ad hominem attacks to destroy character." Asked about published reports that his wife suffers from depression, he countered that Alma's illness was "easily controlled with proper medication, just as my blood pressure is sometimes under control with proper medication." He did not resent the inquiry but plainly did not welcome the prospect of surrendering his privacy.

For much of the public, and not least journalists, there was dismay at the loss of a fresh face from the race. "That takes care of her depression," wrote New York Times columnist Maureen Dowd. "Now what about ours?" Said Tim Bush, a New Hampshire organizer: "The country is the loser."

If the public was disappointed, the candidates already in the arena could scarcely have been more delighted. The immediate beneficiary among Republicans was Dole, the Senate majority leader, whose campaign has been stuck in neutral while Powell pondered. Every Republican candidate, however, was thrilled. "The field is now clear," said former Tennessee Governor Lamar Alexander, who trails far back in it. Texas Senator Phil Gramm said it's he or Dole "now that we don't have the specter of a genuine American hero looming over the race." Had Powell come in, every campaign but Dole's would have foundered. Support and, more important, money would have dried up for all but the top two. Now the organizations of all 10 Republicans are cranking back to life, although some will not survive long.

Political days don't get much better for candidates than Wednesday was for Dole, who is making his third run for the White House. His biggest potential rival bowed out, and Governor Stephen Merrill of New Hampshire, the bellwether primary state, endorsed him for President, saying Dole had "rock-solid conservative credentials...and the clear vision for the future that America needs." Support for Dole was far less impressive when Powell was a factor. An October national poll by the New York Times showed that with Powell in the race, Dole's ratings slumped from 45% to 29%. With Powell gone, however, more than 50% of the general's backers lined up directly behind Dole. No one has yet forgotten, however, that the Powell boomlet showed a strong desire for someone other than Dole.

The biggest cloud on Dole's horizon looks to be a wispy chimera: Gingrich, the architect of the Republican revolution, might throw his hat into the ring. Few Republicans expect him to. "Newt's too smart to go now, when he's got years to do it," said Chicago activist Michael Keiser. Gingrich recently put the odds of running at 1 in 10, and while he planned to consider the idea more seriously with Powell out, most Republicans believe he's keeping his options open to help push his congressional agenda.

The Republican contest is now Dole's to lose. That is not to say he does not have problems. There is the matter of his age and suspect health. He is indefatigable, but also 72. War wounds cost him a kidney and use of his right arm; four years ago, he battled prostate cancer. His acid tongue may be a bigger potential threat, and for a candidate with such experience, he is far from gaffe proof. His comment last month that Medicare, the country's medical safety net for seniors, was "a mistake" made him look ridiculous, pandering wildly to the right. He may feel less desperate with Powell gone, and with the fact that his rivals have shown little potential to close the gap.

Fiery right-wing telepolitician Pat Buchanan did well in New Hampshire in 1992 and may again, but elsewhere his candidacy will stall. Gramm, the Texas Senator with the whiny voice and abrasive manner, has a bigger problem. As one Republican explained, "Even Gramm's friends don't like him." Millionaire publisher Steve Forbes is scarcely a blip on the national screen. Ditto for the candidates for the thoughtful set, Alexander and Richard Lugar, onetime chairman of the Senate Foreign Relations Committee.

The very biggest winner from Powell's exit, however, was not a Republican candidate at all. "Colin Powell not running, at least for President," says G.O.P. consultant Jay Severin, "doubles President Clinton's chances of re-election." Powell was the President's worst nightmare, impressive in those very areas where Bill Clinton is weakest: from a strong family, an adult figure of respect who gave straight answers without waffling. Polls consistently showed Powell to be a more formidable challenger for the President than Dole. The expectation was that Powell would cut sharply into the huge 82%-to-9% plurality the Democrats enjoy among black voters, a disparity that contributes mightily to Clinton's current 6% lead over Dole. Those polling numbers mean little now. Ronald Reagan, after all, did not break ahead of incumbent Jimmy Carter until a week before the 1980 election, then crushed him. But there is still another wild card in the pack. In 1992 Clinton won with only 43% of the vote when billionaire political gadfly Ross Perot ran as an independent third-party candidate. Perot, who captured 19% and denied George Bush re-election, has formed an independent party again this year. He has said he won't run on the party ticket, but if he changes his mind, Clinton's opposition would again be split.

Whatever happens next won't relieve an unavoidable feeling that the entire quest for the presidency had been diminished by General Powell's retreat. A military man with a social conscience. A minority New Yorker admired by ceos and conservative Southern whites. A relative unknown who inspired huge trust. A black man on a white horse. A breath of fresh air gone like a zephyr.