EBSTER GROVES, Mo. - For Jim Russell, the kiss sealed the deal.
That long kiss Vice President Al Gore gave to his wife, Tipper, as he came to the stage Thursday night, that silent declaration of difference from President Clinton, said ''I'm my own man'' for Russell more than any words Gore spoke, though Russell was impressed by those as well.
''You couldn't fake that kiss,'' said Russell, a mental health counselor. ''You would have been able to see through it if President and Hillary Clinton had done it.
''But Gore seems like he really loves his wife and she loves him. That long kiss, against the backdrop of the hideous things Clinton did, for me, it's important that the president set that tone, as a family man.''
So, as much as it pained him to turn his back on his hero, former president George Bush, and his son, George W. Bush, Russell was putting himself in Gore's column. Not just for this post-convention week, but all the way to November.
Pundits say the conventions don't count for much any more. But residents of Webster Groves have been watching, and with less cynicism than one might expect.
Some saw hours of both conventions, though storms cut power to some streets during Gore's speech. Others dropped in now and then. And in interviews with 15 residents after the Democratic event, even those who professed not to care a jot about the conventions had read about them, or had seen highlights on television, and knew as much as those who had seen them live.
Seven weeks ago, when a reporter visited Webster Groves before the GOP convention, residents seemed inspired by neither candidate. Most of the voters interviewed were leaning toward Bush, mostly because of their dislike for Clinton, and to a lesser extent, Gore, or because of their fondness for Bush's father.
While the conventions changed no minds among fierce party loyalists, they persuaded several undecided voters to take a new look at Gore, whose acceptance speech was still fresh in their minds.
That mirrors the results of new polls showing Gore is catching up with, or passing, Bush.
To be sure, no one knows how long that effect will last as the campaign continues through the next 11 weeks. But while some residents of Webster Groves say anything can happen between now and November, they know what most appeals to them now. And what they liked best in both conventions, they said, was sincerity, big-tent talk, and Caroline Kennedy.
Voters in this pretty, tree-filled town 15 miles southeast of St. Louis are just the kind of people each party had hoped to reach during the conventions. Webster Groves is in the middle of the country geographically, economically, and racially - exactly the kind of town each candidate must win if he is to prevail in November.
According to past elections, voters in this swing town are divided evenly between Democrats and Republicans. As Webster Groves goes, so goes St. Louis County, and as St. Louis County goes, so goes Missouri, a bellwether state that both parties agree is crucial to victory this year.
Among some of these voters, Gore succeeded in turning what might be his greatest liability into a strength on Thursday. By recasting a perceived charisma deficit as proof of his sincere commitment, Gore removed a strong objection from one Cedar Groves resident, Bill Reyland.
Reyland, a musician, was undecided seven weeks ago. Back then, all he knew of the candidates was their personalities, and he preferred Bush's toughness to Gore's blankness. After the speech on Thursday, however, Reyland was inclined toward Gore, mostly because of his policies, but also because of Gore's disarming admission that he is ''not the most exciting'' politician.
''Gore doesn't speak with a lot of fire, but the things he was saying was what I wanted to hear,'' Reyland said. He liked Gore's policies on the environment, the economy, and education.
Russell agreed.
''So he's not the greatest speaker in the world,'' he said. ''Clinton is, and I'm not pleased with what he's done.''
From the convention, the 44-year-old Russell learned a lot about Gore that he admired: that the vice president had not only worn a uniform but had actually served in Vietnam, for example. And that he had worked hard all his life, which ''means a lot to a guy in Missouri.''
Russell has said that either man would make a good president, and the conventions didn't change his mind. But he went for Gore ''just listening to him,'' because of his commitment, and because of his stances on social issues and mental health.
By contrast, Russell said he couldn't remember anything he might have learned from Bush's speech, and little from the Republican Convention in general. ''Cognitive dissonance is kicking in,'' he said with a laugh. ''I'm erasing it all.''
Bob Casanova, 55, who usually votes Republican and said he had seen about a half-hour of the conventions, also had to allow that Gore ''seems to be finding a way to loosen up,'' but added: ''He's still a stiff.''
But he's a sincere stiff, wife Judy added.
''The Republican Convention seemed so much more packaged than the Democratic,'' said Judy Casanova, also 55. ''The Republicans were saying, `This is what you want to hear.' I don't think any of us believe anything any of them say, but it's who lies the best. Bush's speech was packaged. He still smirks.''
Undecided in July, she said she is now leaning toward Gore.
Like many of the delegates at the Democratic Convention, Casanova was looking for emotion, and she got it when Gore brought real people into his speech, pointing out families in the audience who would be helped by his policies. With those families, Casanova said, Gore gave her an emotional tug toward his policies.
For others, Caroline Kennedy, the sole surviving member of John F. Kennedy's family, provided an emotional moment, even though Kennedy herself shunned emotion. Even John Streeter, 71, a Bush devotee and a Republican to his bones, had to admit she was a good selection.
''I thought that Caroline tried to dissociate Gore with Clinton and associate him with Jack Kennedy, who is extremely popular regardless of party,'' he said. ''She sounded very sincere and she probably did more for Gore's image than anybody.''
Asked about what they had seen as highlights of both conventions, almost all of the voters interviewed began with the Democratic event, and could remember little from the Republican one.
They did remember, however, that both conventions were saturated with appeals to a wide variety of voters, including minorities, a fact noted with some satisfaction.
''They made tremendous strides,'' Russell said. ''We're at a time when we need to include everybody. But I wonder if the party really will accept different folks in the long run.''
''I don't want to impugn Bush's integrity, but he needs to speak to the issues of America,'' said Otha Lee Davis, 55, an African-American who owns Lee's BBQ Plus. ''They stand against everything that would help minorities. Colin Powell alone addressed that issue.''
At the OT Hodge Chile Parlor, the mostly retired wags who breakfast there most mornings were a little more cynical than their neighbors. They all watch politics carefully, they said, and they're wise to strategy. They were nostalgic for the thrust and parry of the old days.
''I liked it when the bosses ran everything in the back rooms,'' said Joe Kelly, 73, the devout Democrat of the group. ''It was more democratic then, and there was less money involved.''
''Yeah, well the primaries ruined that,'' said Joe Bante, 73. ''And I think it's pitiful that who you vote for comes down to who gives the best speech.''
''I was watching `Adam 12' last night,'' said Lee Keefer, 67, the swing voter of the group. ''It was a heck of a show.''
Bill Wright, 79, agreed that Thursday night's rerun had been particularly fine.
Harold Schaefer, a firefighter, liked the Republicans' convention more than the Democrats' (better organized, more enthusiasm). But he wasn't putting much stock in either one. The debates are the thing, he said: ''It'll be interesting to see how Bush and Gore handle each other.''
Regardless of their loyalties, all of the men at Hodges agreed that the conventions' low point was Clinton's dramatic, long-walk-down-the-hallway entrance on Monday night. Tacky, they said.
''They patterned that after the wrestlers,'' Bante said. ''They oughta drop him in on a pulley!''
