THE NEW WAVE

By MARGARET CARLSON

Press the pound sign if you think you're going to be the next editor of the New Republic. So many journalists have been interviewed for the job that if you're not on owner Marty Peretz's long list to replace Andrew Sullivan, who left three weeks ago, you may never eat lunch in this town again. Peretz says he's moving "methodically," which is understandable. No owner wants to rush that enchanted period that makes red-ink publishing more rewarding than real estate, when a publisher gets to dangle one of the great prizes in American letters before the hungry eyes of the country's best journalists. Being able to woo and win Tina Brown as editor of the New Yorker is what makes losing money palatable for publishers such as S.I. Newhouse. "It's gratifying," says Peretz, who has dined with presidential adviser George Stephanopoulos, among others, "how many people want the job."

In the meantime, the magazine, like Washington without Mayor Marion Barry, goes on. "I have a strong staff in place. They don't need direction from above, which is good, since they haven't had any for quite a while," says Peretz, referring to the lackadaisical editing of the recently departed Sullivan. Last week Peretz interviewed Joseph Nocera, of the Washington Monthly and FORTUNE. He joins a list of semifamous, boldface names such as Stephanopoulos and Eric Breindel (editorial-page editor of the New York Post and significant other of Lally Weymouth, daughter of Washington Post matriarch Katharine Graham); and wise guys like Michael Lewis, who filed fascinating dispatches from the campaign trail, including information on his own body odor; and Jacob Weisberg, probably the most brilliant young fogy to pass through the magazine since Michael Kinsley; and Mickey Kaus, author of a book on welfare reform and a worthy Kinsley successor as the TRB columnist. Margaret Talbot, executive editor since 1995, might be the best contender if it weren't for her boss's Groucho Marx-like problem: Would he give the job to someone who already works there?

It used to be that with the Wave and a few handshakes a President could be on his way after a fund raiser. Nixon launched the Big One, raising both arms above his head so far that his suit jacket came up to his ears. Reagan swept his hand through the air and stared mistily into the sunset; then he'd schmooze briefly in a structured receiving line and be in bed by 10 p.m. Barbara Bush introduced the Point-and-Wave technique, and at a large fund-raising dinner Wednesday night, the Clintons used it several times. Mrs. Clinton, arm outstretched, pointed deep into the sea of 2,000 upturned faces as if she had just spotted her long-lost bunkmate from Camp Ougaouga; then she nudged her husband, who pretended to spot the same dear soulmate, and both smiled deeply and knowingly.

Later, the President let a contributor get close enough to deliver an air kiss, and unleashed a force way beyond his control. After that, everyone expected to be kissed--especially those within the velvet rope who had paid $50,000 to $250,000 for the privilege. This being the '90s, even the men expected something on the order of a full-body-slam hug, followed by a half clasp so the photographer could get a picture. As those of us who have tried to put the brakes on air kissing could have warned Clinton, this is not going to stop at $50,000 contributors. Soon every voter at every town meeting is going to expect a false display of affection. The President may end up kissing 51% of the country before this is over.