A Southern All-Star Team for Democrats

A primary unwritten law of selecting a vice-presidential candidate is to balance the ticket. A secondary law often has been to delay the announcement so as to inject suspense into an otherwise bland convention. Bill Clinton shattered both precepts. Four days before the opening of the Democratic Convention he chose, of all potential running mates, the one closest to being a carbon copy of himself: Tennessee Senator Al Gore. Besides hailing from neighboring mid-South states and swimming in the centrist mainstream of the party, they are close enough in age (Clinton is 45, Gore 44) to form the first all baby-boom ticket.

Critics were quick to harp on this lack of balance. Jesse Jackson mixed metaphors to complain that they were "cut from the same stripes," and Republican National Chairman Rich Bond sneered that the Democrats have "written off the rest of the country." Gore, however, does add some strengths to the ticket besides reinforcing its generational and centrist appeal. Like Clinton, he is an adroit balancer: he voted for the Persian Gulf war but maintained party credentials by vigorously defending the patriotism of the many more congressional Democrats who did not. Work on the Senate Armed Services Committee has given him expertise in foreign affairs and arms control, which Clinton lacks. He is a hero to environmentalists, while Clinton has admitted that as Governor of Arkansas he sometimes put creating jobs ahead of protecting the environment. Most important, Gore has been a heavyweight contender for the White House who, in Clinton's words, "would be ready, should something happen to me, to immediately assume the office of President."

Take that, Bush-Quayle. Or, for that matter, Perot-Whoozis. Ross Perot, in fact, inexplicably talked about Gore as if he were describing his own yet-to- be-selected running mate, rather than Clinton's. "Fine man, wonderful family," burbled Perot. "I think he's an excellent choice."

So far as the polls can measure, the race has been tightening considerably since mid-June, when Clinton was running a poor third. A TIME poll conducted last week showed a virtual three-way tie; Clinton actually was first at 28%, vs. 26% each for Bush and Perot, though the difference is statistically insignificant. The Arkansan hopes to make further gains by presenting a picture of a united, moderate party at the convention in New York City. Last week he picked up the endorsement of onetime chief rival Paul Tsongas, who earlier had ensured that there will be no noisy platform fight by refusing to help bring amendments proposed by Jerry Brown to the floor (a few Tsongas amendments will be voted down quietly). New York Governor Mario Cuomo, after much wooing, agreed to make the nominating speech for Clinton. That prompted Vice President Quayle to gibe that Cuomo will need extra time to retract some of the nasty things he has said about the Arkansan. Jesse Jackson, grumbling as usual, nonetheless accepted a speech assignment and was expected to issue a formal endorsement over the weekend.

Alas for both Democrats and couch potatoes, love feasts make boring television. This one, in fact, will make next to no network television; ABC, CBS and NBC plan a mere one to two hours of live coverage a night. The best theater may be on the streets outside Madison Square Garden. Besides the inevitable demonstrations, casts of all the current Broadway musicals will put on a free, open-air show for conventioneers in Times Square. To protect the 5,000 delegates, 15,000 journalists and innumerable hangers-on expected, the city will flood the streets with police. And to drum up business, more than 100 New York restaurants -- including some pricey ones -- are offering lunch specials for $19.92 (get it?).

Even before it meets, the convention is stirring nostalgic memories of 1976, when the Democrats met in New York to nominate another Southern Governor, Jimmy Carter, who went on to win, while the city, still on the brink of bankruptcy, got a huge lift in morale out of its successful performance as host. As some New Yorkers might phrase it in the native tongue, they should both be so lucky twice. (See related stories beginning on page 22.)