The Republicans

By Richard Stengel

In terms of style, last month's carefully choreographed Democratic Convention borrowed a leaf from the Republicans. But the even more strictly scripted Republican gathering borrowed the very themes of the Democrats. Speaker after speaker invoked the "F" word from Mario Cuomo's 1984 Democratic keynote speech: family. Change, the mantra of Atlanta, was intoned just as frequently in New Orleans: Ronald Reagan used it 14 times in his farewell speech. Even compassion found its way into the Superdome, with George Bush talking about a "kinder and gentler nation."

The Republicans expropriated not only themes but also a melody. At the close of Reagan's sentimental farewell, the Superdome band struck up a spirited rendition of a familiar song: Happy Days Are Here Again. That diehard Democratic anthem, F.D.R.'s signature tune, had been handed down to such Democratic nominees as Harry Truman, John Kennedy and Walter Mondale. But since Democrats of late have had little to be cheerful about, the tune was not heard in Atlanta. Manny Harmon, the Los Angeles bandleader who has played at Republican Conventions since 1956, took note and helped make the decision to use the song. "You know, it's a Democratic song," said Harmon with a wink. "But we made a new arrangement."

DEATH OF A SALESWOMAN.

The Republicans consider themselves the entrepreneur's greatest patrons, but they failed to patronize one entrepreneur in the Superdome shopping arcade. Renee Donwen had a concession selling photographs of customers posing with life-size cardboard cutouts of Bush and Reagan.

In Atlanta, where Donwen featured cutouts of Michael Dukakis and Jesse Jackson, she couldn't keep the Democrats away. "I was so exhausted that I ended up insulting them and raising the price, and still they bought the picture," she said. "Here, no matter how I approach them, no one will stop. They don't want to spend their money on this sort of thing. They'd rather invest it elsewhere. Like Tiffany's."

SIMILARITY BREEDS CONTENTMENT. If the Democrats are a "rainbow coalition," the Republicans display a narrower palette. Many women in the Dome were color coordinated: their red high heels matched the royal hue of the convention's carpet. The men sported tans that matched their tan suits. It was all so homogeneous. Comedian Jackie Mason, wandering around the convention, observed that "everyone here looks like they have a relative who is a West Point graduate. They all look like if they had sex they wouldn't get excited. They look like they wouldn't call for help if they were drowning because they didn't want to disturb anyone. The Democrats are a coffee-shop crowd. The Republicans look like they own the restaurant."

IT WAS FINE IF YOU COULD READ LIPS. New Orleans' great flying saucer of a building was less Superdome than Superdrone. The cavernous arena seemed to swallow up the voices of the speakers. On opening night, crusty former Senator Barry Goldwater, seated in the VIP box, was cussing and complaining that no one could hear what was being said. Some delegates actually left the arena to listen to the convention on television. According to a New Orleans official, Ed McNeill, the National Education Association met in the Dome before the Republicans did and offered to split the cost of the sound system. But the Republicans said no. "They wanted their own system, so they reinvented the wheel," he said. "It was a crummy system, and the NEA's worked fine."

MOVE OVER, BRAT PACK, HERE COMES THE BOONE BUNCH.

The celebrities at the Atlanta convention appeared to be barely old enough to vote. But the more sedate stars in New Orleans may be concerned with a different issue: Social Security. Tom Selleck and Pat Boone were among the few under 60. Other visiting VIPs included Actress Helen Hayes, 87; Presidential Crony and Crooner Frank Sinatra, 72; Bandleader Lionel Hampton, 75; and Charlton Heston, 64. In keeping with the host city's culinary tastes, the kitchen at Heston's hotel prepared a little something for his arrival. The actor, who played a slave in Ben Hur, entered his room to be greeted by a 3- ft.-high statue of a chariot, sculpted entirely out of tallow.

ENOUGH FAMILY ALREADY.

Wednesday was baby-sitting night for Gram and Grandpa Bush. With their own five offspring on the convention floor, the Vice President and his wife minded their ten rather rambunctious grandchildren. The youngsters made such a mess that an exhausted Barbara merely shoved aside the flowers and papers on her bed and went quickly to sleep. This was much to the disappointment of the two mischievous grandchildren who had planted a great fuzzy artificial snake in Grandma's bed.

HOORAY FOR HOLLYWOOD. Many thought that when the Old Trouper Ronald Reagan tap-danced off the political stage, he would take the references to Tinseltown with him. Not so. Movie allusions were so common among speakers in New Orleans that the place sometimes resembled another French city: Cannes.

George Bush sought guidance in Dragnet: "My approach this evening is, as Sergeant Joe Friday used to say, 'Just the facts, ma'am.' " Dan Quayle defined himself through the silver screen: "I identify with that movie Hoosiers." New Jersey Governor Thomas Kean sometimes sounded like a disgruntled movie critic: "They ((the Democrats)) may try to talk like Dirty Harry. But they will still act like Pee-wee Herman."

THE PARTY OF LINCOLN NEEDS TO DO SOME RETHINKIN'.

Black delegates at the Republican Convention were about as common as photographers for Reader's Digest. Less than 3% of the delegates were black. But while black faces were rare on the Superdome floor, a conspicuously high number turned up on the podium or in the VIP box: Muhammad Ali, former Transportation Secretary William Coleman, and Fred Brown, chairman of the National Black Republican council.

Some blacks found this offensive. Alan Keyes, a former State Department / official who is the G.O.P. candidate in Maryland's Senate race, initially refused to address the convention when organizers asked him to talk about being a "black and a Republican." "I am not going to be a token," said Keyes.

YOUR FACE LOOKS SO FAMILIAR. When the newest conservative saint, Robert Bork, was introduced by Phyllis Schlafly at her Eagle Forum reception in the New Orleans Museum of Art, the glossy crowd applauded him like teenyboppers stomping for George Michael. The Supreme Court Wanna-Be appeared uncomfortable with his rock-star-like reception. After denouncing liberal judges -- "We want a court, not a bunch of left-wing politicians in robes" -- Bork revealed that his newfound celebrity had robbed him of his privacy in public. He noted that at a supermarket recently a woman came up to him, tugged on his sleeve and said, "Mr. Surgeon General, I believe in everything that you're doing."