Marathon Man

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A tacky mural of the Lower Manhattan skyline served as backdrop. The band's version of Theme from New York, New York compensated in decibels for what it lacked in finesse. The ballroom of the thoroughly lived-in Omni Park Central Hotel was too small and too warm for the hundreds crammed together like rush- hour commuters on the A train. But the atmospherics last Tuesday night mattered not at all. Chants of "Duke! Duke! Duke!" alternated with cries of "Let's go, Mike!" And when Michael Dukakis paused before speaking, his usually constricted smile was as broad and welcoming as New York harbor. Campaign workers cheered ecstatically at the Duke's every prosaic line. "I love New York!" brought hurrahs. "Friends, if we can make it here, we can make it anywhere." Delirious applause.

For once, primary-night hoopla matched reality. After a week of bogus suspense in which it appeared that Jesse Jackson's insurgent tide might carry the state, Dukakis took New York in grand fashion, 51% to Jackson's 37% and only 10% for Al Gore. The victory ended any hope Jackson had of fighting Dukakis to a draw -- an outcome that would have produced chaos at the Democratic Convention in Atlanta. Though Jackson, after a period of uncertain silence, insisted he could still win the nomination, Campaign Manager Gerald Austin conceded that his patron's prospects had turned "pretty bleak." Even before the votes were counted, Jackson was retreating to claims of symbolic victory; then a few of his advisers talked publicly about seeking the vice-presidential nomination.

Gore's latest failure proved terminal: he suspended campaigning Thursday, though he will attempt to hold his delegates together by remaining a nominal candidate. Gore was a star of Super Tuesday just six weeks earlier, but his erratic performance since then seemed to eliminate him even from the roster of vice-presidential prospects.

Dukakis' breakthrough is the sum of math and momentum. New York was the last chance before the June 7 California primary to spike the wheels of his bandwagon. The Duke now has roughly 1,070 delegates of the 2,081 needed to nominate. Despite the quirky tendency of Democratic voters to turn against front runners, Dukakis appears assured of capturing at least two-thirds of the 1,000 delegates still to be elected. A majority of the 643 super-delegates -- public and party officials who are nominally unpledged -- are also known to favor Dukakis. These recruits, together with scores of delegates now uncommitted or hooked to defunct candidates, will provide the critical mass necessary to settle the issue.

Dukakis, the plodding survivor, the paradigm of caution who has launched not a single imaginative political theme, has outlasted seven rivals. Barring acts of God, this candidate described by one of his own aides as an "earnest nerd" will be the nominee. Sighs of relief were audible among much of the Democratic establishment. Because Dukakis evokes wild enthusiasm? Hardly. A TIME poll last week conducted by Yankelovich Clancy Shulman showed that only 34% of registered voters consider Dukakis an "exciting" candidate (vs. 66% for Jackson). Rather, the party has grown weary of a nominating contest that combined the worst elements of burlesque and trench warfare. Now at last the stable, competent craftsman can begin to build a campaign against George Bush.