Just when Americans are beginning to realize the country has a race problem, along comes a little reminder that sometimes color doesn't matter at all.

On November 28, 10 African Americans will compete in a special primary election to succeed disgraced U.S. Rep. Mel Reynolds in the 2nd Congressional District. The winner will meet the Republican nominee on December 12.

The candidates range from Illinois Senate Minority Leader Emil Jones Jr., a loyal soldier of the Regular Democratic Party, to Jesse Jackson Jr., a young aspirant with a famous name that gives the Machine a collective shudder. In other words, it's a wide open election, with all the outside influence, deal-making and gratuitous tomfoolery you'd expect from any white political free-for-all.

Kind of restores faith in the system.

When journalists write about politics, we often refer to something called the "black community," as if it's some kind of closed society with a clubhouse and a secret handshake. While whites seem to have as many miserable points of view as there are people, many believe that blacks are blessed with a singularity of opinion.

In truth, most African Americans have more in common with each other than they do with whites. But politics may be one of the few American endeavors that reaches beyond race to the loftier heights of power, unbridled ambition and self- preservation.

Harold Washington's stunning mayoral victory in 1983 and easy re-election in 1987 were supposed to establish the "black community" as an unstoppable monolith that would henceforth control the mayor's office and the City Council, while giving an extra boost to any state or national candidate that properly courted its minions.

It didn't happen. Instead, Mayor Richard M. Daley is facing his first decade in office without significant black opposition. His toughest challenge may be deciding how long he wants to put up with one of the nation's most frustrating political jobs.

The City Council is now majority black and Latino, but you'd never know it, given the standing ovation aldermen gave Daley at a recent council meeting — for a 1996 budget that raises property taxes and adds no new police. What once was "Council Wars" now looks more like a cheesy episode of "Friends."

Black politicians have never been able to recreate the unity of the Washington years because it was never really there. A few white Democrats have learned that the hard way. Black voters torpedoed Neil Hartigan's gubernatorial bid in 1990 by staying home or casting one quarter of their ballots for Gov. Jim Edgar. That same year, they turned on Cecil Partee, an African American perceived as being too much of a political hack, and helped Republican Jack O'Malley become Cook County State's Attorney.

Black leaders couldn't even muster enough unity this spring to field a single mayoral candidate. Joseph Gardner, a former Washington aide and a commissioner of the Metropolitan Water Reclamation District, declared his candidacy in the primary only to be undermined by U.S. Rep. Bobby Rush and former Illinois Attorney General Roland Bun-is.

Rush toyed with running, but wisely pulled out when he realized that blacks were neither registered in adequate numbers nor sufficiently worked up to turn out in droves for his candidacy. Burris, in a move that still defies explanation, endorsed Gardner but announced he would run as an independent in the general election if Gardner lost the primary. With that kind of back-handed support, Gardner would have had trouble winning an argument, much less an election.

And now comes the 2nd Congressional race to assure us that when it comes to politics, blacks and whites really do have something in common.

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When Reynolds was charged with sexual misconduct, state Sen. Alice Palmer was among the first to declare her intention to run against him. When it became clear that Reynolds wouldn't survive the autumn, nine other Democrats jumped in, among them state Sen. Monique Davis and Jesse Jr., son of you know who.

Emil Jones was one of the last candidates to enter, but he is the heavy favorite. He's got some big backers, including two of the most prominent Chicago Democrats who won't be casting a ballot:

Mayor Daley and Cook County Board President John H. Stroger Jr. Naturally, Daley wants someone in Congress he can trust and talk to about the city's problems. Stroger wants what Daley wants, and he has the political organization on the South Side to make it happen for Jones.

But who will the voters choose? The State Board of Elections says there were about 340, 000 registered voters in the 2nd District for the 1994 primary, but fewer than 90, 000 of them bothered to show up. Two years earlier, about 98, 000 voters cast ballots in a vicious primary that saw Reynolds finally oust incumbent U.S. Rep. Gus Savage. At the time, Reynolds seemed like a godsend to Daley and other regular Democrats who abhorred Savage's militant style and controversial remarks. They spent a lot of money and precinct workers to send Reynolds to Washington.

Those same Democrats now are putting their money on Jones, realizing that when fewer people turn out, the candidate with the best organization usually prevails.

It's not about race; it's about finishing first.

So if you're sitting around lamenting America's racial divide, take heart in this country's political process. Who said government can't bring us together? 

James Ylisela Jr. teaches urban reporting at Northwestern University's Medill School of Journalism. He's the consulting editor of The Chicago Reporter, an investigative monthly that focuses on race and poverty.

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