What makes World Trade Center such a powerful film is the way in which it captures both the beauty of New York before the attack, the horror of Ground Zero and the selflessness of rescue workers, who fought horrendous conditions and long odds to save those trapped in the rubble. The crashing of steel, the fires that never stopped burning and the thundering sounds of flying objects combine to create a disturbing experience for the audience, but then it cannot even approach the emotional turmoil and physical pain experienced by those injured or killed at the site.

World Trade Center is really about New Yorkers, and the bridges and buildings—and public servants—that we depend on to keep this city alive. The tranquility of the Hudson River and the grace with which the George Washington Bridge links commuters in New Jersey to the office towers of New York; the packed subways running over the Manhattan Bridge before sunrise; and the cops and firefighters who protect the rest of us even when they cannot protect themselves.

Unlike so many of the television documentaries and magazine cover stories that are now surfacing as we approach the fifth anniversary of the Sept. 11 attack, this film does not focus on the hijacked planes, the words of politicians or the ongoing debate about who should build what at Ground Zero. This is a film that highlights the skills and tenaciousness of the NYPD Emergency Service Unit, the selflessness of the FDNY and the volunteers from all over the nation who came to New York to help, like the Wisconsin team portrayed in the film who grilled “the best brats you ever tasted” for their fellow rescue workers.

Sept. 11 did more than foster a new sense of connection among New Yorkers. It brought New York into direct contact with the rest of the world in a way no city had ever experienced. The film conveys this when people on every continent, of every race and ethnicity, stop in shock to watch television pictures of smoke and fire from the Twin Towers. Just as New York came to a halt, so did the world. People understood that if terrorists could blow up New York’s tallest buildings, then no place on earth was safe. As Sgt. John McLoughlin (Nicolas Cage) tells his fellow Port Authority cops in the film, “We’re prepared for everything—car bombs, chemical, biological, an attack from the top—but not this. Not for something this size. There’s no plan; we didn’t make it.”

A disaster like 9/11 doesn’t fade away. It has become part of the fabric of this city. In fact, it’s impossible not to feel the pervasive impact of the attacks on daily life in the city. The police cars stationed at the entrance to the Brooklyn Bridge; the harbor patrol boats next to the U.N. in the East River; the cluster of police assigned to the entrances of the Midtown Tunnel; the barriers surrounding the New York Stock Exchange; the massive planters positioned in front of midtown office buildings to prevent truck bombs; the mandatory photo ID to enter an office building; the anxious look when a fire engine comes blaring down the street; the nervous tension when the subway P.A. system announces that there is a “police investigation” at the next station.

And, of course, the absence of the Twin Towers, once visible throughout the region.

So many New York rituals have been generated by the attacks that we already take them for granted. The American flag flies from buildings that prior to Sept. 11 never had a flagpole; baseball fans sing “God Bless America” during the seventh-inning stretch; and no public event is held without a search of bags and packages. At firehouses in most neighborhoods, there are plaques and shrines to honor the firefighters who died in the rescue efforts.

What have we learned, five years after the most deadly attack by a foreign enemy on American soil? The film tells us that in times of stress, New York transforms itself from a city of strangers into a gigantic community mobilized to help those in greatest need. No film has ever done a better job telling that truth about this city and its people.

What makes World Trade Center such a powerful film is the way in which it captures both the beauty of New York before the attack, the horror of Ground Zero and the selflessness of rescue workers, who fought horrendous conditions and long odds to save those trapped in the rubble. The crashing of steel, the fires that never stopped burning and the thundering sounds of flying objects combine to create a disturbing experience for the audience, but then it cannot even approach the emotional turmoil and physical pain experienced by those injured or killed at the site.

World Trade Center is really about New Yorkers, and the bridges and buildings—and public servants—that we depend on to keep this city alive. The tranquility of the Hudson River and the grace with which the George Washington Bridge links commuters in New Jersey to the office towers of New York; the packed subways running over the Manhattan Bridge before sunrise; and the cops and firefighters who protect the rest of us even when they cannot protect themselves.

Unlike so many of the television documentaries and magazine cover stories that are now surfacing as we approach the fifth anniversary of the Sept. 11 attack, this film does not focus on the hijacked planes, the words of politicians or the ongoing debate about who should build what at Ground Zero. This is a film that highlights the skills and tenaciousness of the NYPD Emergency Service Unit, the selflessness of the FDNY and the volunteers from all over the nation who came to New York to help, like the Wisconsin team portrayed in the film who grilled “the best brats you ever tasted” for their fellow rescue workers.

Sept. 11 did more than foster a new sense of connection among New Yorkers. It brought New York into direct contact with the rest of the world in a way no city had ever experienced. The film conveys this when people on every continent, of every race and ethnicity, stop in shock to watch television pictures of smoke and fire from the Twin Towers. Just as New York came to a halt, so did the world. People understood that if terrorists could blow up New York’s tallest buildings, then no place on earth was safe. As Sgt. John McLoughlin (Nicolas Cage) tells his fellow Port Authority cops in the film, “We’re prepared for everything—car bombs, chemical, biological, an attack from the top—but not this. Not for something this size. There’s no plan; we didn’t make it.”

A disaster like 9/11 doesn’t fade away. It has become part of the fabric of this city. In fact, it’s impossible not to feel the pervasive impact of the attacks on daily life in the city. The police cars stationed at the entrance to the Brooklyn Bridge; the harbor patrol boats next to the U.N. in the East River; the cluster of police assigned to the entrances of the Midtown Tunnel; the barriers surrounding the New York Stock Exchange; the massive planters positioned in front of midtown office buildings to prevent truck bombs; the mandatory photo ID to enter an office building; the anxious look when a fire engine comes blaring down the street; the nervous tension when the subway P.A. system announces that there is a “police investigation” at the next station.

And, of course, the absence of the Twin Towers, once visible throughout the region.

So many New York rituals have been generated by the attacks that we already take them for granted. The American flag flies from buildings that prior to Sept. 11 never had a flagpole; baseball fans sing “God Bless America” during the seventh-inning stretch; and no public event is held without a search of bags and packages. At firehouses in most neighborhoods, there are plaques and shrines to honor the firefighters who died in the rescue efforts.

What have we learned, five years after the most deadly attack by a foreign enemy on American soil? The film tells us that in times of stress, New York transforms itself from a city of strangers into a gigantic community mobilized to help those in greatest need. No film has ever done a better job telling that truth about this city and its people.

The hot issues of today will quickly fade away if the current surge in gasoline prices and home-mortgage rates continues unabated. And all indications are that both the price of gas and the cost of borrowing are moving in one direction only: north.

In fact, the 2008 Presidential election will hinge on what I call the “electability index”—a blend of gas prices and home-mortgage rates—not any policy or piece of federal legislation.

If the electability index equals or exceeds 12, there will be a massive change in the White House and Congress. Simply put, if gas prices are at $4 a gallon and a 30-year fixed-rate mortgage costs more than 8 percent, the electability index will be at 12, the threshold for tossing all incumbents overboard.

The number 12 has rarely been understood as a factor in political life, but it is a central force in our culture. There were 12 apostles in the New Testament, 12 tribes of the children of Israel, 12 gates to Jerusalem, 12 months in a year and 12 astrological signs in the zodiac.

Two years from now, Americans won’t care about the war in Iraq and or even the flow of immigrants into the United States; in fact, not even the capture of Osama bin Laden himself will influence the 2008 elections if Americans cannot afford their American way of life. What matters to them is whether they can pay for their homes and drive to their jobs without a stress attack.

It’s time for the Democrats and the Republicans to recognize that American voters will have a nervous breakdown if they’re struggling to meet their mortgage payments and fill their gas tanks. Americans love nothing more than their cars and homes.

In fact, the latest car models increasingly resemble homes: with full-motion video, leather seats that recline into chaise lounges, electrical outlets for refrigerators and computers and sound systems that exceed anything designed for a living room.

As for actual homes today, they’re not shelters in the traditional sense: They include everything except the living and dining rooms. Even the Thanksgiving meal is now a buffet in the “family media room” so that everyone can watch football on a 60-inch plasma display while playing videogames on their P.D.A.’s.

The Bush years have been great for homeowners: On Election Day 2000, a 15-year fixed-rate mortgage was 7.58 percent and a one-year adjustable mortgage was 7.25 percent. Four years later, when Mr. Bush defeated John Kerry, home-mortgage rates had declined substantially, making home ownership and even mega-mansions more affordable. A 15-year fixed-rate mortgage was 5.2 percent in November 2004, a decrease of 30 percent in mortgage costs. And a one-year variable-rate mortgage was 4.18 percent in 2004, a decline of more than 40 percent in just four years.

The campaign of 2004 was not about Iraq or the war on terror, although that’s what Karl Rove made Mr. Kerry believe. It was about creating a “feel-good” climate by bringing housing costs down so low that people felt great buying homes they couldn’t really afford.

The popularity of mortgages based on variable interest rates, often covering only the interest and paying off no principal, was the real reason Mr. Bush won those tight races in the Western battleground states of Colorado, New Mexico, Nevada and Arizona. And Mr. Bush’s unexpectedly strong showing in Florida in 2004 wasn’t due to hanging chads but to the growth in Florida’s housing market.

There has been a 16 percent increase in the 15-year fixed mortgage since November 2004, and a 34 percent increase in the one-year adjustable-rate mortgage since 2004. The new Federal Reserve chairman has the political know-how and scholarly record to be a Princeton professor, but he lacks the political seasoning of former Fed chairman Alan Greenspan, who got the electability index just right for Mr. Bush. Alan Greenspan, not Karl Rove, was Bush’s brain in 2004.

As we prepare for the summer of 2006, gas prices are 90 percent higher than they were in the fall of 2000. And mortgage rates are above 6 percent, well on their way to 8 percent. Housing costs are going up in all those states where Presidential elections are determined: Florida, Ohio, Wisconsin, Arizona, New Mexico, Iowa and Colorado.

If the electability index reaches 12 by the spring of 2008, the candidate who best understands what makes America tick—home ownership and three cars in the driveway—will win.

Americans want a President who can improve their lives, not the lives of Iraqis.

The hot issues of today will quickly fade away if the current surge in gasoline prices and home-mortgage rates continues unabated. And all indications are that both the price of gas and the cost of borrowing are moving in one direction only: north.

In fact, the 2008 Presidential election will hinge on what I call the “electability index”—a blend of gas prices and home-mortgage rates—not any policy or piece of federal legislation.

If the electability index equals or exceeds 12, there will be a massive change in the White House and Congress. Simply put, if gas prices are at $4 a gallon and a 30-year fixed-rate mortgage costs more than 8 percent, the electability index will be at 12, the threshold for tossing all incumbents overboard.

The number 12 has rarely been understood as a factor in political life, but it is a central force in our culture. There were 12 apostles in the New Testament, 12 tribes of the children of Israel, 12 gates to Jerusalem, 12 months in a year and 12 astrological signs in the zodiac.

Two years from now, Americans won’t care about the war in Iraq and or even the flow of immigrants into the United States; in fact, not even the capture of Osama bin Laden himself will influence the 2008 elections if Americans cannot afford their American way of life. What matters to them is whether they can pay for their homes and drive to their jobs without a stress attack.

It’s time for the Democrats and the Republicans to recognize that American voters will have a nervous breakdown if they’re struggling to meet their mortgage payments and fill their gas tanks. Americans love nothing more than their cars and homes.

In fact, the latest car models increasingly resemble homes: with full-motion video, leather seats that recline into chaise lounges, electrical outlets for refrigerators and computers and sound systems that exceed anything designed for a living room.

As for actual homes today, they’re not shelters in the traditional sense: They include everything except the living and dining rooms. Even the Thanksgiving meal is now a buffet in the “family media room” so that everyone can watch football on a 60-inch plasma display while playing videogames on their P.D.A.’s.

The Bush years have been great for homeowners: On Election Day 2000, a 15-year fixed-rate mortgage was 7.58 percent and a one-year adjustable mortgage was 7.25 percent. Four years later, when Mr. Bush defeated John Kerry, home-mortgage rates had declined substantially, making home ownership and even mega-mansions more affordable. A 15-year fixed-rate mortgage was 5.2 percent in November 2004, a decrease of 30 percent in mortgage costs. And a one-year variable-rate mortgage was 4.18 percent in 2004, a decline of more than 40 percent in just four years.

The campaign of 2004 was not about Iraq or the war on terror, although that’s what Karl Rove made Mr. Kerry believe. It was about creating a “feel-good” climate by bringing housing costs down so low that people felt great buying homes they couldn’t really afford.

The popularity of mortgages based on variable interest rates, often covering only the interest and paying off no principal, was the real reason Mr. Bush won those tight races in the Western battleground states of Colorado, New Mexico, Nevada and Arizona. And Mr. Bush’s unexpectedly strong showing in Florida in 2004 wasn’t due to hanging chads but to the growth in Florida’s housing market.

There has been a 16 percent increase in the 15-year fixed mortgage since November 2004, and a 34 percent increase in the one-year adjustable-rate mortgage since 2004. The new Federal Reserve chairman has the political know-how and scholarly record to be a Princeton professor, but he lacks the political seasoning of former Fed chairman Alan Greenspan, who got the electability index just right for Mr. Bush. Alan Greenspan, not Karl Rove, was Bush’s brain in 2004.

As we prepare for the summer of 2006, gas prices are 90 percent higher than they were in the fall of 2000. And mortgage rates are above 6 percent, well on their way to 8 percent. Housing costs are going up in all those states where Presidential elections are determined: Florida, Ohio, Wisconsin, Arizona, New Mexico, Iowa and Colorado.

If the electability index reaches 12 by the spring of 2008, the candidate who best understands what makes America tick—home ownership and three cars in the driveway—will win.

Americans want a President who can improve their lives, not the lives of Iraqis.

Last week, Howard Dean came to Harlem to receive the endorsement of Mr. Gore. Both revealed their ignorance of the first rule of New York politics: You cannot use Harlem as a political sound stage without permission from Congressman Charles Rangel, New York City's senior Democratic member of Congress, whose districts encompasses upper Manhattan.

The media has treated the Gore-Dean alliance as the political equivalent of a "civil union," an alliance in which both men gain strength from each other. Mr. Gore gets reborn as a kingmaker in the 2004 election, with a future claim on Dean supporters in 2008, while Dr. Dean absorbs legitimacy from Mr. Gore's blessing. Long before a single vote is cast, the former Vice President wants to diminish the typical voter's choice by convincing weak candidates to drop out of the race. And whatever friends Mr. Gore has made with Dr. Dean's followers, he has damaged his standing with all those Democrats working for Wesley Clark, John Kerry, Richard Gephardt, Al Sharpton and Joseph Lieberman.

Contrary to the popular wisdom, Mr. Gore's endorsement is the kiss of death for Dr. Dean. Mr. Gore and Dr. Dean share only one trait: anger. Mr. Gore's is understandable-he was denied the Presidency though he won the popular vote. Dr. Dean has turned anger at President Bush and the war in Iraq into his signature issue-apart from his Internet fund-raising base, it is his principal campaign asset. We know more about what Dr. Dean opposes than what he is for.

The Gore-Dean union has ceded the middle ground to the President, who can now position himself as a moderate despite his solid conservative record. Never have the Democrats given away so much ideological yardage before the Presidential primaries were even held. The Gore imprimatur poses a special risk for all Democrats, since the new Al Gore is substantially to the left of the old Al Gore.

Dr. Dean is part of a new trend in American politics; lawyers no longer dominate public service. Today, we have a heart surgeon as the majority leader of the U.S. Senate, a former wrestling coach as the Speaker of the House of Representatives, and a body-builder as the governor of California. Why shouldn't a physician be the leading Democratic Presidential candidate?

Medicine is not what it used to be; health-insurance companies and H.M.O.'s have reduced the autonomy, status and income of doctors. In fact, the only doctors making real money in Manhattan are those who inject Botox and sculpt cheekbones.

Howard Dean wisely recognized his limits as a physician and found redemption in politics. It is no accident that he flourished in the world of Vermont politics. Vermont is 96 percent white, with no city that has more than 40,000 people. The entire population of Vermont-613,000-is much less than half the number of people who live in Manhattan. White male Protestants like Dr. Dean are an endangered political species in New York. The last ones elected to high office in the state were John Lindsay, Nelson Rockefeller and former Lieutenant Governor Stan Lundine (and Mr. Lundine didn't get elected on his own).

Dr. Dean fits in with all those free spirits who moved to the Green Mountain State after they discovered that they couldn't make it in New York or Boston. Vermont does have beautiful ski slopes, but they lack the grandeur of Vail or Sun Valley. Despite the state's drawbacks-or perhaps because of them-Vermont has emerged as a haven for residual hippies, displaced elites and émigrés from New York like Congressman Bernie Sanders or those ice-cream promoters who answer to the names of Ben and Jerry. (They, of course, recognized the limits of any industry based in Vermont and wisely sold out to Pillsbury.)

Now we are faced with the prospect of a Dean candidacy for President. Although Dr. Dean's campaign is driven by his "outsider" status, his Presidential campaign in New York relies on old-fashioned power-brokers. Union leader Dennis Rivera, Queens County Democratic leader Tom Manton, and City Council Speaker Gifford Miller and his crew of loyal Council members are guiding the effort to make Dr. Dean the Democratic nominee. Only in New York could an outsider be so actively supported by insiders.

Dr. Dean lacks Gene McCarthy's cerebral style, George McGovern's decency and Jimmy Carter's spirituality. He is a doctor but he is no healer. His candidacy is based on his early opposition to the war on Iraq. No one-including the candidate himself-knows what he stands for.

· Despite the euphoria emanating from the Hillary Clinton campaign about the selection of Senator Joseph Lieberman as the Democratic Vice Presidential nominee, it's not clear whether Mr. Lieberman's candidacy will help the First Lady.

When Rudy Giuliani was her opponent, Mrs. Clinton could rely on minorities to go to the polls in great numbers to vote against the Mayor. Mrs. Clinton needs an especially strong turnout from African-Americans in New York City to overcome Rick Lazio's strength in the suburban counties surrounding the city. Yet neither Mr. Gore nor Mr. Lieberman appeal viscerally to minority voters. Plus, according to the Pew Research Center, almost one-fourth of African-Americans hold unfavorable attitudes toward Jews, twice the national level. And Jewish voters have a history as ticket-splitters, voting simultaneously for both Rudy Giuliani and Mark Green in recent citywide elections and for George Pataki and Charles Schumer in 1998.

It surely will not be difficult for Jewish voters to pull the Gore-Lieberman lever and then switch lines to vote for Mr. Lazio, just as they did in 1992, when Bill Clinton received 80 percent of the Jewish vote while Robert Abrams, a Jewish candidate, took just over 50 percent of the Jewish vote in his failed campaign to unseat Alfonse D'Amato. Ironically, Mr. Lieberman's candidacy will force Mrs. Clinton (and her husband) to work harder to mobilize African-American votes, which could then diminish support among Jews, who are more likely to vote with Mr. Lieberman on the ballot. It's possible that Mr. Lieberman will drive down the African-American vote while bringing out more moderate Jewish voters.

· One byproduct of the Lieberman candidacy is that Americans are about to get a steady stream of information about Jewish culture, especially given that the major Jewish holidays, including Rosh Hashanah, Yom Kippur, Sukkot, Shmini Atzaret and Simchat Torah, fall between Sept. 30 and Oct. 22–the campaign's critical weeks.

This year is probably the most inconvenient time for an observant Jew to run for national office, since the Jewish New Year starts so late in the electoral cycle, rather than early in September. As Seth Gitell of the Boston Phoenix has observed, Senator Lieberman will lose eight valuable campaign days in the weeks before Election Day, since Orthodox Jews are expected to treat the holidays with "Sabbath-like" restrictions on activities.

Rather than observe the High Holy Days in Washington, D.C., or Connecticut, it's likely that we will see Senator Lieberman praying in synagogues across the country, most likely in suburban areas where there are strong Orthodox communities. What will non-Jewish Americans think when they see rabbis in ceremonial robes and sneakers on Rosh Hashanah and hear the piercing sounds of the Shofar? Even secular Jews on the Upper East Side may have to learn what it means to fast on Yom Kippur.

· There has been a lot of attention given to the fact that three of the four candidates on the national ticket attended Yale University during the 1960's. Clearly, Yale was a special place in the 1960's and 1970's, and its reputation endures among high school students, so that it is still highly selective in undergraduate admissions. But, apart from its superb medical, law and drama schools, Yale is an institution in trouble. In 1998, Yale ranked just 27th in research-and-development expenditures, well below Johns Hopkins, which led the nation and other private universities such as Stanford, Harvard and Duke. Yale's School of Management doesn't even break into the top 20 business schools, and its Divinity School is in poor shape, both fiscally and physically.

While Yale's English Department has maintained its preeminence (and continues to send its top undergraduates to The New Yorker ), the political-science department has become a harbor of refuge for left-wing ideologues, the economics department is not competitive with Harvard, M.I.T., Princeton or Stanford, and the Classics Department can't attract first-rate talent. Sociology at Yale, like sociology across the country, peaked 25 years ago.

Worst of all, an increasing share of Yale's junior faculty refuses to live in New Haven. They commute from Boston, Washington and New York, and spend more time on the Metroliner than they do in their Yale offices. Its simply too difficult to get a good meal in New Haven. In fact, New Haven is increasingly a nine-month city, which closes up when the students go home after the spring semester.

Half a century from now, we will still depend on Yale to produce our leading poets, actors and playwrights, but other universities will be the source of Presidential talent.

(Wise Guys columnist Terry Golway is on vacation. He will return to this space next week.)

It took a Democrat like Bill Clinton to fulfill goals Republicans have been talking about (but not always doing anything about) for a quarter-century: He has replaced welfare with workfare, transformed a budget deficit into a balanced budget, and even brought homicides down to their lowest point in three decades. Most striking, the Clinton Administration has been singularly effective in creating wealth. More millionaires have been created during the Clinton years than ever before. Indeed, under Mr. Clinton the making of money has superseded all other forms of human achievement and has become the dominant cultural trend. An executive chef in a Manhattan restaurant and a computer programmer in Washington state are now worth more than some orthopedic surgeons or corporate lawyers.

It's hard to remember the pre-Clinton years, when the Dow Jones industrial average had trouble reaching 3,000. Today the Dow exceeds 10,000. Mr. Clinton's performance exceeds that of Joseph, son of Jacob, adviser to the Pharoahs, who predicted seven consecutive prosperous years, but only after seven years of famine.

Simply put, Bill Clinton has been both the best Republican and the best Democratic President of this century. He saved the Democrats by adopting moderate policies on spending, crime and welfare. Mr. Clinton can rightfully claim that by putting money into crime prevention, he helped violent crime fall by more than 20 percent. Further, Mr. Clinton's success at carrying out anticrime and antiwelfare policies has marginalized the left wing of his party, which has abandoned politics for new age pursuits like aromatherapy, gourmet vegetarian cooking and Tae-Bo.

The recent Republican tax cut proposal reinforces the President's image as a champion of fiscal, if not physical, prudence. Even Federal Reserve chairman Alan Greenspan believes that the Republican plan is irresponsible. No wonder that the Republican Party despises Bill Clinton: He has taken away their core ideological weapons, leaving them with their pro-life plank and not much else. After NATO's success in Kosovo, Mr. Clinton can now claim that he is the first Democratic President to win a war since Franklin Roosevelt. As Commander in Chief, Mr. Clinton has performed better than Harry Truman in Korea, John Kennedy in Cuba, Lyndon Johnson in Vietnam and Jimmy Carter in Iran.

It's ironic, but Al Gore is cursed by Mr. Clinton's success. Democrats don't get elected to dispense joy; their only political purpose is to diminish pain and suffering. So Mr. Clinton's legacy is an albatross, not an asset. No Democratic candidate can mobilize the party faithful-labor unions, minorities and women-by invoking a record that has heightened income inequality, eliminated welfare and reduced trade barriers through Nafta and GATT. Granted, Mr. Clinton in recent months has been trying to find ways to appeal to traditional Democratic Party constituencies, but it is too little, too late for his would-be heir. No matter how often Mr. Clinton takes a scenic tour of the poorest American communities or attacks state governments for failing to provide health care to children, the Clinton legacy cannot be undone. He has been a peace-and-prosperity President, and that's a Republican platform.

Mr. Gore's campaign is in trouble, all right, but not for the reasons cited by the Washington press corps. Yes, Mr. Gore lacks charisma, but that's not his core problem. Ultimately, he is running on the Clinton record, but that record is too conservative to excite and engage Democratic voters. That's why Mr. Gore continues to search for issues to define his candidacy. He tried to make suburban sprawl into a campaign issue but, like global warming, it didn't play well as a sound bite.

That's why Bill Bradley poses such a serious challenge for the Democratic Presidential nomination. Mr. Bradley has the virtue of not being associated with the President or with the Beltway (even though he was a Senator for 18 years). Unlike Mr. Gore, Mr. Bradley is not burdened with a definable political record. In fact, Mr. Bradley's cypherlike persona works well against Mr. Gore; people can easily impose their own values on Mr. Bradley, since he has no strong ideological positions.

Ultimately, the biggest beneficiary of Bill Clinton's legacy may be Gov. George W. Bush of Texas, the Republican Presidential front-runner. No wonder Al Gore is in trouble. It isn't easy for a Democrat to run on a Republican record.

Mitchell L. Moss is the Henry Hart Rice Professor of Urban Policy at New York University. Terry Golway claims he will return next week.