Marathon Man

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But if the Democratic muddle has been sorted out, if "brokered convention" and "Mario scenario" have become yesterday's buzz words, new questions arise: Can Dukakis pull together the quarrelsome factions of his party? Can he and Jackson live together constructively? Can he lure back the millions of disaffected Democrats who supported Ronald Reagan in 1984? Although for the moment at least Dukakis leads Bush in national surveys, his advantage is tenuous -- and so is the Democratic coalition.

Dukakis is only beginning to focus on these new pitfalls. Whatever dangers lie ahead for him, baseless euphoria is not among them. The day after his New York triumph, the Duke was once again the practicing Governor in Boston. While commentators were loudly proclaiming him the apparent nominee, Dukakis was modestly observing, "It's not over until it's over, and I mean it." His mode of travel was similarly humble at day's end: he walked across the Boston Common from the Massachusetts State House to the Park Street T station to start his customary half-hour subway ride home to Brookline.

The token clerk offered free passage, but the Governor bought a 60 cents token, then dashed through the turnstile carrying his nylon briefcase. From the straphanger position, he talked about the Democrats -- "There is a very broad consensus for this party, probably more than we've had in 30 to 40 years, around issues of opportunity and jobs and housing and health care and civil rights" -- until he was interrupted by an irritated older woman with a more local concern. "Excuse me, Governor," she asked in a raspy Boston accent, "when are you going to put our streetcars back to the Arborway?" "As soon as we get the place shaped up," Dukakis answered. Another elderly citizen insisted on conveying "one bit of advice for you -- don't worry." Dukakis assured this well-wisher, "I don't worry. I'm having a good time."

In fact, there is still much to worry about. Dukakis' latest and most important victory to date was a product of shrewd defensive play and some luck, rather than the innovative offense he will need in the fall. Jackson started off with virtually solid backing from New York's blacks and heavy support among Hispanics. To win, he still had to reach a significant bloc of white liberals and union members. Most of all, he had to hope that Gore would peel enough white votes from Dukakis to make the race competitive. Instead, Gore flopped utterly. He became a prisoner of his chief local patron, New York City Mayor Ed Koch, whose vituperative attacks on Jackson further polluted the city's dense ethnic atmosphere and totally obscured Gore's own image. Local TV cameras repeatedly captured Gore looking bewildered, like a farm boy being fleeced by a Times Square three-card-monte artist, as Koch lashed out at Jackson's shortcomings.