PEACE ON THE BAYOU

By ADAM COHEN/CROWLEY

Peace in the Middle East and Bosnia may be elusive, but the Clinton Administration has brokered a sensitive cease-fire in Louisiana. Vice President Al Gore flew to Baton Rouge last Friday to preside over the reconciliation of two Democrats: Senate candidate Mary Landrieu and Congressman Cleo Fields, the state's leading black politician. The Gore intervention might seem like an awful lot of White House muscle to settle a neighborhood brawl. But the stakes are high in Louisiana's closely contested Senate race, which pits Landrieu against conservative Republican Louis ("Woody") Jenkins. When Fields finally endorsed Landrieu last week, it ended a feud that threatened not only to split the party but also to scuttle Democrats' chances of keeping the seat of retiring Senator Bennett Johnston. A Landrieu win is a crucial part of any scenario in which the Democrats retake the Senate.

Equally important, the race tests the party's ability to bridge its racial divisions in the South. Louisiana Democrats, like others in the region, have split into two camps: Landrieu's largely white moderate wing and Fields' predominantly black liberals. Landrieu, a former state treasurer and political moderate--pro-choice but, like Bob Dole, in favor of a capital-gains tax cut--ran afoul of her party's liberals last year when she and Fields were locked in a bitter gubernatorial primary. Fields backers say it was racially insensitive of her to run ads saying she was more electable than Fields, and they resent her refusal, after she lost, to endorse him. But the state's leading black officials now back Landrieu, who hopes their supporters will too.

Jenkins, a six-term legislator from Baton Rouge, is riding a wave of growing Republican strength in this formerly one-party state. (G.O.P. Governor Mike Foster, who swept to victory over Fields last year, has a 70% approval rating.) Jenkins has been courting conservatives with a message of small government and has embraced Huey Long-style populism by calling for abolition of the IRS and replacing it with a national sales tax.

In a state whose political icons have been joyful rogues like Long and ebullient pols like Landrieu's own father Moon, both candidates bring an unaccustomed sobriety to the campaign trail. Landrieu projects brisk efficiency even when backing up a zydeco band on the washboard, and Jenkins recently cast a pall over a good-time crowd at a rice festival with somber remarks about abortion and taxes. Perhaps because of their trouble connecting viscerally with voters, each risks being defined by the other's negative campaign. Jenkins has accused Landrieu of mismanaging public funds, and labeled her out of step with state voters for taking money from a gay political-action committee. Landrieu has pronounced Jenkins "David Duke lite." When the dust settles, Landrieu hopes her precarious liberal-center coalition will put her over the top. If so, her win may go down as one of the Clinton Administration's most impressive diplomatic feats.

--By Adam Cohen/Crowley