n a sentence, Bill Bradley's clarion call went like this: ''What we need is a little plain speaking.''
And in a sentence, Al Gore got to his point this way: ''I want to be your nominee.''
Truth be told, neither man's pitch is going to produce the Democratic nomination for president next year. But their first joint appearance on a stage before an obviously Gore-biased Democratic National Committee, assorted hangers-on, and imported cheerleaders over the weekend was interesting for the effect each had on the other.
In a sentence, each man was impressed with the other, enough to kindle the respect-based fears that dwell in each camp, whose high commands stopped spinning and schmoozing long enough to listen carefully.
To the vice president's inner circle, Bradley exudes authenticity, the power of which is enhanced by his engaging awkwardness and conversational tone. Audiences don't cheer; they shut up and listen and respond to his seriousness and respect for their intelligence.
As one Gore adviser told me, the fear is that Bradley has caught a different wave in politics - one that carries a candidate on the simple strength of his persona and values, overwhelming agenda and record. The Bradley supporter may not particularly worry, for example, about the details of the former New Jersey senator's position on health care that he is unveiling in California this week; he is content to respond to Bradley's obvious determination to face the complicated question squarely and diligently.
But the Bradley camp's concerns are just as substantial. Unlike most of political Washington, where analysis hides behind the latest polls, Gore is not seen as a stick figure. He is a formidable person who has figured out how to present a program of next steps that build on Clinton administration policies that the public supports and believes have made a difference. One Bradley adviser confided that the ''Clinton fatigue'' that is all the polling rage around here is a short-term phenomenon that Gore is capable of overcoming.
Think of Bradley and Gore as parallel tracks. Each has its own characteristics, and in the end you simply choose one. The clash that political junkies always lust for will not illuminate the choice. My hunch is that whoever starts a fight will pay a steep price, and should. Over the weekend, it was obvious how Bradley and Gore are mostly staying far away from each other. The lone exceptions were revealing.
Gore's was a one-sentence pledge never to support vouchers for public school families to take to private schools, carrying the implicit reminder that Bradley had voted in the Senate for tests of the concept and spoken favorably of the idea.
Bradley's, typically, was subtle - a slight dig at the party's new chairman and old Gore buddy, Philadelphia Mayor Ed Rendell.
''Ed Rendell has assured me that things will be fair,'' Bradley said. ''I think that's true.''
Big deal. More revealing was the fact that neither camp used any of the silly things it has in the recent past. Bradley, for example, has on occasion claimed that his privileged background as a small-town Missouri banker's son was more ''normal'' than Gore's privileged background as a senator's son. This is when appealing authenticity becomes self-indulgent superiority. In politics, every saint risks the inevitable exposure as sinner.
Gore's campaign must fight the temptation to attack. It looked particularly thuggish when chairman Tony Coelho slammed Bradley for his offer to forgo unlimited ''soft money'' contributions in a wished-for general election if the Republican nominee agrees (which John McCain already has). Normal weakness and strength aside, any suggestion that Bradley is disqualified on his record or ideas is preposterous.
But it is no accident that Bradley is spending this week unveiling a detailed set of ideas about health care, as Gore did in early September; no accident either that in three weeks he'll do the same on poverty in New York City. At some point soon, being a fresher face and counting on ''Clinton fatigue'' runs out of gas. It either makes a substantive difference that Bradley wins the nomination or it doesn't.
It's also no accident that more of Gore is emerging as he campaigns in the early voting states. The superficial trappings like entering from the back of the hall to ''Love Train'' (shades of Mike Dukakis) and pacing the stage with a wireless microphone on his tie (shades of Elizabeth Dole) won't matter much.
What does is narrative like Gore's tale here of his post-college disillusionment with politics after the defeat of his principled father in 1970; his Army tour in Vietnam; his return to Watergate America; and his reawakened sense of purpose as a writer on The Nashville Tennessean. This is not Bradley versus Gore. It's Bradley or Gore.
Bradley needs to show he can do politics the way he played basketball, willing to skin his knees diving for loose balls. Gore needs to show he can lead as well as take positions so people will want to follow him and not merely endorse him.
For now, it's enough that each has impressed the other.
Thomas Oliphant is a Globe columnist.
