In HBO's dark period drama, "Boardwalk Empire," Enoch "Nucky" Thompson navigates the political morass and gangland clarity in Atlantic City, New Jersey during America's experimentation with Prohibition. Before Nucky, though, Commodore Louis Kaestner controlled the boardwalk and smoke-filled speakeasies that populated the otherwise barren Jersey shore.

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So, for no reason other than having a few minutes to kill, I invite you, dear reader, to take an imaginative stroll with me around a creative circle. If President Reagan is the Nucky Thompson to the modern conservative movement, then 1964 GOP nominee Barry Goldwater is surely the commodore.

During his campaign for president, Goldwater sawed away at the lashings that bound the Republican Party to the now infamous Establishment — an evil, amorphous life-form whose existence has prevented Republicans from permanent majorities in government for decades, or so they continue to tell us. Goldwater's "confrontational conservatism," as described by The Atlantic's Ronald Brownstein, ultimately led to his crushing defeat in 1964 to Lyndon Johnson. His brash style and subsequent loss have led many to compare Goldwater to this year's Republican nominee, Donald Trump Donald John TrumpBiden leads Trump by 36 points nationally among Latinos: poll Trump dismisses climate change role in fires, says Newsom needs to manage forest better Jimmy Kimmel hits Trump for rallies while hosting Emmy Awards MORE.

But sometimes forgotten in the legacy of Goldwater is the role he played 10 years after his woeful, yet moony, presidential campaign. For it was Sen. Barry Goldwater (Ariz.) — along with House Minority Leader John Rhodes (R-Ariz.) and Senate Minority Leader Hugh Scott (R-Pa.) — that made the trek from Capitol Hill to the White House one muggy, summer afternoon in August 1974 to deliver news to embattled President Nixon that he did not have the support in Congress needed to survive impeachment.

Forty-two years later, almost to the day, Republicans around the country find themselves in a similar position. Support for Trump erodes as each destructive wave — controversies often of his own creation — crashes to the shore.

In the most recent RealClearPolitics polling average, Trump trails Democratic nominee Hillary Clinton Hillary Diane Rodham ClintonBiden leads Trump by 36 points nationally among Latinos: poll Democratic super PAC to hit Trump in battleground states over coronavirus deaths Battle lines drawn on precedent in Supreme Court fight MORE nationally by 7.9 percentage points. He's losing to her in Georgia and is virtually tied in Arizona. Deep-red Texas is now a sallow shade of pink. Nate Silver's FiveThirtyEight gives Clinton an 86.3 percent chance of winning. In a recent Reuters/Ipsos poll, 44 percent of registered voters want Trump to drop out of the race. And in the betting markets, where real people invest real money, Trump shares are selling for 26 cents compared to Clinton's 75. His chances of winning are no better than Nixon's were in the summer of 1974.

So for Republicans, the question has to be: Who will be our Goldwater; who will be our commodore? Who has the gravitas and the guts to travel to Trump Tower and tell the man the long, strange trip is over? It can't be any of the political foes he's already vanquished. They carry no weight in his binary worldview where only winners and losers reside. It can't be any of his sycophants in conservative media who've already tethered their fates to their orange-hued messiah, exposing themselves as pockets-out hucksters who pawned their conservative compass for a ride on the gilded Trump Train. Trump has no respect for their empty words. Republican National Committee (RNC) Chairman Reince Preibus? Please.

It should be left to former Sen. Bob Dole (R-Kan.). After all, he's been a Trump supporter from the get-go with no visible ulterior motives at play. And with all apologies to Scott Baio, Dole was one of the few real dignitaries to attend Trump's convention. He has gravitas, history and most importantly, he's show the loyalty necessary to at least approach Trump with the news that only he, apparently, remains unaware of: It's over, Mr. Trump. The support for you is just not there.

Of course, the news will not be well-received and the pushback from Trump and his supporters will be harsh, perhaps even violent. But it is a necessary duty. It has to be done for the good of the country and for the sustainability of the Republican Party. It could be Dole's final and most important service performed for the party and country he so adores if he chooses to do so.

And in this odd, circular journey we've been on for the last few minutes, Dole is the logical choice in at least two more ways: He was on the ticket in 1976 as President Ford's running mate during Ford's reelection bid, the path opened up for him thanks in part to Goldwater and the difficult visit to the White House he made two years before. And late in his own run for president in 1996, the RNC urged down-ballot congressional candidates to cut loose from Dole to prevent Bill Clinton William (Bill) Jefferson ClintonBattle lines drawn on precedent in Supreme Court fight Sunday shows - Ruth Bader Ginsburg's death dominates Bill Clinton on GOP push to fill Ginsburg vacancy: Trump, McConnell 'first value is power' MORE from governing in his second term with a "blank check."

So you see, the circle is now complete. The commodore and Nucky presided over Atlantic City during its dark rise. Trump helped complete the city's downfall. Nucky is Reagan and Goldwater is the commodore. And someone like Goldwater, compared in so many ways to Trump, is needed to deliver news to him that it's time to get out. That job could fall to Dole, who could once again prevent a Clinton from governing with a blank check. It's all a weird, flat circle, I know.

The final episode of "Boardwalk Empire," a series about the sordid yet bustling history of an historic beach town, aired in October 2014, a month after the Trump Plaza Hotel and Casino in Atlantic City filed for Chapter 11 bankruptcy protection for the fifth, and final, time. It's probably too late now to save Atlantic City, but it's not too late to save the Republican Party. What we need is creative imagination. What we need is another Barry Goldwater. What we need is another commodore.

Hale is a freelance writer who resides in San Antonio with his wife and three children. He has written for Sports Illustrated and NBC Sports but his first, true love has always been politics. The machinations carried out by otherwise good people are his glorious, guilty pleasure.

The views expressed by contributors are their own and not the views of The Hill.