CONVENTION NOTES

By RICHARD STENGEL; JEFFREY H. BIRNBAUM; TAMALA M. EDWARDS

THE JACK AND BOB SHOW

Jack Kemp is a space invader. Anyone in his vicinity is likely to be hugged, grabbed, patted or poked. He can't see a shoulder without draping an arm around it. Bob Dole is an untouchable. He seems to have an invisible force field around him that repels physical intimacy. What happens when an irresistible toucher meets an immovable untouchable? Reserve begins to melt. After Dole's convention speech and the duo's first rally in San Diego on Friday morning, Kemp grabbed Dole's good (left) arm and lifted it high. Both times Dole kept his arm up for fewer than 10 seconds before wriggling free. But by afternoon, under a bright sky in downtown Denver, as Dole and Kemp came onstage, Dole reached for his running mate's passing arm and raised it into the air, held it there, then held it there some more. This time Kemp let go first. Dole even did a soft-shoe shuffle to the strains of Soul Man and smiled at his running mate, who was clapping along. The two seem to be working out a little vaudeville act--Dole the straight man, Kemp the comic pratfaller. When Dole said he'd bet all he had that they'd win Colorado, he added with a grin, "I won't bet all Jack has." Kemp bowed his head, as if penitent about having made some cash-giving speeches. Mostly, though, he's tapping a foot, pointing, craning his neck, pretending to throw a pass or take a snap from the center. With women, he holds each face like a ripe melon before planting a kiss. Or he blows kisses. While speaking, he spreads his arms, massages the wedding ring on his left hand, rubs the walnut-size football-championship ring on his right. Being the backup doesn't come easy. At the first post-convention rally, he said he wasn't going to give a speech. Six minutes later, he said, "In closing ..." After two more "In closings," Kemp closed. Dole clapped heartily.

--By Richard Stengel

THE MIRACLE CANDIDATE

Meanwhile, at the reform Party's convention 94 miles up the California coast in Long Beach, Ross Perot, cantankerous reformer, seemed to be taking on a higher role altogether: miracle worker. Two speakers who introduced Perot before the crowd of 1,500 claimed nothing less than his lifesaving powers. Perot worker Debbie Kraus told of her sister, who in April was found to have an inoperable brain tumor--until Perot had her flown in his private jet to a team of Dallas neurosurgeons, who discovered a treatable aneurysm. Ex-sergeant David Campbell, who suffered near fatal wounds in the Gulf War, attested to how Perot helped dispatch a team of doctors to rescue him from death's door. Besides testimonials, the main business was to hear the Reform candidates for President.Winner: Perot, with 65% of party members' ballots, over former Colorado Governor Richard Lamm. That, at least, was no miracle.

--By Jeffrey H. Birnbaum

GRAND OLD PARTYING

When the party faithful gathered in San Diego, the biggest party animals were lobbyists. An estimated $25 million in corporate cash sloshed around for everything from the hospitality yachts that gridlocked the harbor to the G.O.P. gala at the Embarcadero Park, the single most profitable fund raiser Republicans have ever had at a convention. (At that one the G.O.P. took in $6.5 million from assorted contributors, $2 million more than at 1992's largest checkbook jamboree.) One of the busiest hosts was Dirk Van Dongen, president of the National Association of Wholesaler-Distributors. On Wednesday he introduced Jack Kemp to 3,500 big donors at the outdoor gala, an honor he got for raising $2 million. After shaking Van Dongen's hand, the vice-presidential candidate turned to the audience and quipped, "It's a financial pleasure to welcome you all."

--By Jeffrey H. Birnbaum

WHAT WAS THAT AGAIN?

Scott O'Grady, the Air Force captain who evaded capture for six days on the ground in Bosnia last year after his F-16 was shot down, stirs a convention of budget cutters by telling them about a massive government spending program: the "armada of military power" dispatched by the U.S. to rescue him alone. Talk about the safety net.

FADE TO WHITE

Anyone watching the convention on TV could hardly be blamed for thinking the Republican tent was big to the point of popping seams. Inclusion was the word of the week, and black faces were everywhere on camera. In fact, there were relatively few blacks present in an official capacity--just 52 of the 1,990 delegates--in part because the G.O.P. resists any change in its delegate-selection rules. For instance, rules awarding extra delegates to states with Republican governors end up favoring places like New Hampshire, where minorities tend to be a smaller share of the population. Some delegates tried again at this convention to push reform, but they got nowhere. Meanwhile, minority attendance at G.O.P. conventions is inflated by nonvoting "auxiliaries" affiliated with the R.N.C. Says a member of the National Black Republican Council, the auxiliary for African Americans: "We're window dressing." But the window last week was a big one: almost every camera searched for their faces.

--By Tamala M. Edwards

AND NOW, ON TO CHICAGO

What did the Democrats learn from San Diego? Their convention in Chicago next week will be politician-lite, magnanimous in tone, full of specific policy prescriptions and as Republican as they can get away with. Opening night will feature only ordinary citizens, including a redemptive speech by Christopher Reeve, and even some Republicans touched by issues like gun control and welfare. Later Hillary Rodham Clinton will detail ways to help children, and Tipper Gore will address cultural and social values. The President's speech will be modeled on a State of the Union address, with at least 30 new proposals. The goal, said an adviser, "is to show how we already are and will continue to implement Dole's acceptance speech."