ACCEPTANCE SPEECH: WEAVE A NEW VISION

In the age of television, there has never been a totally unimportant acceptance speech at a national nominating convention. For a candidate below the rank of incumbent president, the convention address is where the American electorate first forms an enduring impression of the nominee.

For a sitting president, the acceptance speech can only nudge public attitudes, favorable or unfavorable, already shaped over four long years. For a challenger like Walter Mondale in 1984 or someone largely unknown nationally like Michael Dukakis in 1988, the acceptance speech was the defining moment.

Mondale thought the American public was ready for a jolt of candor: the government needed additional tax revenue. Mondale was right on the substance, but wrong on the voters' appetite for straight talk. His tax statement became a steadily-growing albatross ("tax and spend") of his campaign.

Dukakis, with professional-like coolness, defined the upcoming election as a question of "competence." With this muted, almost inaudible call to arms, millions of Americans began to yawn at Dukakis and continued to do so right up to election day. In short, for both Mondale and Dukakis, the acceptance was less than triumphant the beginning of the end for their campaigns.

In his speech tonight, Bill Clinton carries a heavier burden than his predecessors. He has to begin to change his negative public image and to weave a convincing vision of our nation's future in terms that can resonate in the ears of suburbanites, blue collar families, minorities, feminists and others. Quite a delicate weave! His message has to fuss the notion that government cannot do everything, but is not an impotent bystander.

Tonight's address will mark the passing of the torch to the center-left Democrats to a philosophy of deliberate rationality distinct from the emotional appeal of the new Deal, Fair Deal and Great Society. After all, the staggering and seemingly permanent budget deficits that stifle the Bush administration will be no less stifling for Bill Clinton and Al Gore. Zealotry is out; moderation and logic are in.

George Bush has never been able to cope with "the vision thing." He avoided it in 1988 with a rallying cry that would resonate in the hearts and souls of the electorate: "Read my lips. No new taxes." Peggy Noonan, the greatest speech writer around, will have a hard time topping that one. Bush can't really find himself. He is not a decisive president who can shape governmental policy for the public good. He has no instinct as to the uses of the inherent powers of the presidency.

Ross Perot gives his road show acceptance speech every time he qualifies to get on the ballot in another state. He seems to fancy himself as a something of an extemporaneous speaker, but bumbles along offending, from time to time, women, gays and blacks. He has hired two great political pros, but amateurishly perceives himself as being capable of being simultaneously the candidate, campaign manager, and speech writer.

But the hour is Clinton's to capture or to fumble. Tonight could determine, for good or ill, the ultimate potential of his candidacy.