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If Barack Obama were elected president this November, he wouldn't be the first African American to occupy the Oval Office. Dennis Haysbert, Morgan Freeman, James Earl Jones and Tommy "Tiny Lister" all would have been there before him.

At least they would have played people who have.

One of these make-believe black presidents was clearly a Democrat.

Another was thrust into the office by a freak series of circumstances.

All had commanding voices.

And all comported themselves well in the face of spies, terrorists, aliens, conspiracies and even an impending cosmic Armageddon.

Haysbert, in particular, had his hands full in the TV series "24." As first Senator, then President David Palmer, he juggles a scandal involving his son, a scheming wife, assassination attempts and a nuclear threat to Los Angeles.

Lister was the most curious casting decision, in the odd, inventive, 1997 science fiction movie "The Fifth Element," set in the year 2263. At 6-foot-7, the former pro wrestler, who typically plays bodyguards and tough guys, looks out of place and miscast.

He's no Jack Kennedy and no Oscar threat, either. But give Lister credit: An alien threat to the planet does not succeed on his character's watch, although a famous conservative, Bruce Willis, actually saves the day.

Lister also may very well be the most powerful of the black presidents onscreen. In "The Fifth Element," he appears to be president not only of the United States, but possibly of the whole Earth. He's listed in the film's credits as President Lindberg of "the Federated Territories," whatever that means.

Jones, best known as the voice of Darth Vader, stars in 1972's "The Man" as Senate President Pro Tem Douglas Dilman, who assumes the office when both the president and speaker of the House die in a building collapse, and the vice president declines the job.

And, of course, Morgan Freeman is president in 1998's "Deep Impact," a weepy, end-of-the-world saga in which a comet is hurtling toward Earth and only Robert Duvall and a heroic crew of astronauts can save us.

Who pulls off the Hollywood version of an African American president best? That's a tough call.

Jones effectively conveys the doubts and uncertainty that come with the office. And he does a good job of channeling Colin Powell. Or did Colin Powell go on to channel him?

After all, in 1972, Powell was merely a 35-year-old Army lieutenant colonel.

Haysbert, who pitches Allstate insurance when he isn't running the country in "24" reruns, echoes Jones' distinctive baritone voice. And at 6-foot-4-and-a half, he cuts an imposing figure.

But you've got to wonder how his character allows his conniving wife (who eventually becomes the ex-first lady) to dupe him so completely for so long.

In an all too realistic plot twist, President Palmer ultimately is assassinated, after leaving office. The actor says he resisted the violent and seemingly gratuitous demise of his character. But the series later elected yet another black president, Palmer's brother Wayne (played by D.B. Woodside).

In "Deep Impact," Freeman looks and sounds presidential. And when forced to enact a system that determines who'll get access to a life-saving shelter from the comet and who won't, you can feel his tortured conscience.

You could argue, in fact, that in his on-screen persona, Freeman exudes the same kind of personal qualities that make men like Obama and Colin Powell so appealing across racial lines in real life.

It's hard to question, for even a moment, that Freeman couldn't be this movie's president, though there hasn't been a black president of the United States in, oh, 232 years. And counting.

Maybe that's why Freeman seems to have been in several thousand movies during his career. We like him. We really like him.

In fact, being president is hardly the highlight of his fictional resume. He's played the Ultimate Decider, God, in not one, but two movies.

For the record, a young Sammy Davis Jr. and comedian Chris Rock also portrayed fictional black presidents in a pair of very broad, and generally demeaning, comedies. The less said about either, the better.

Meanwhile, in the political drama that's playing out for real in the 2008 campaign, life threatens to imitate art.

Until now, the best path for a black man to the White House has been through the world of make-believe.

Now, that possibility seems suddenly more than the stuff of alternate universes, with aliens, spaceships and renegade comets.

Contact Allen Johnson at ajohnson@news-record.com