COMMENTARY / EXCERPTS : In ‘88, Victory Will Be Thrill Enough

This is the year in which the Democratic Party gave up the thrills. The last lump in the throat left the podium with Jesse Jackson. The final goose bump of nostalgia took off with the Kennedys, Ted and John Jr.

The delegates washed themselves in a warm bath of emotion Tuesday night. By the next morning the Dukakis team had turned off the spigot. The Duke’s convention is for the dry-eyed and the clear-eyed.

A Teddy Kennedy could repeat that famous appeal to visions: “Some men see things as they are and say why. We dream things that never were and say why not?” A Jesse Jackson could extol the same crowd in ringing words to “keep the dream alive.”

Mike Dukakis is a guy who sleeps only five hours a night. Awake, the Duke doesn’t do dreams. Nor does he do emotion.

Mike Dukakis has never been comfortable revving up the heartbeat of a crowd. He prefers the nicely toned aerobic pace of a long-distance talker, even if it comes with the rhetorical style of a pair of heavy hands.

The man the Democrats chose this time around doesn’t aspire to inspire. He thinks of himself as a problem solver, not a poet. “You come on as what you are,” says the candidate, who is notorious for blue-penciling the emotional lines out of a speech. He just isn’t trying out for the romantic lead of the country. Indeed, the only one who ever said that Mike Dukakis has sex appeal is Kitty Dukakis.

That is the real Massachusetts miracle. To a veteran of five conventions, this one is indeed different. For once the Democratic delegates aren’t out there looking for love.

After Tuesday’s one-night stand of emotion, you could almost see them checking their passions at the door. Going back to business, determined to leave with the guy what brung them.

“Real” Democrats, the old-time Democrats, think of themselves as the partyof compassion. This time the slogan is “competence.” In their soul the Democrats may be advocates of the poor. This time they’re playing for the middle class. In their history they may dream; in the convention light they are resolutely pragmatic.

Call it a meeting of the minds, full of Dukakis folk who get chills from words like unity , and get stirred by one theme: winning. They suit the Duke just fine.

Dukakis didn’t seduce this party. He was never the flashiest guy in town; he came on solid. And, for the moment, this political party that so often longs for an affair of the heart or a crusade has settled down with the Duke.

The thrill is gone, but the memory lingers on. This year the real love song is “Hail to the Chief.”