The following analysis was written immediately after the Republican National Convention in Houston. The author attended it and the Democratic National Convention in New York City.

Both 1992 national conventions are over, and to the surprise of many, they reflected a huge party flip-flop from 1988 and 1984. This time it was the Democrats who had the more upbeat and united party gathering, while the traditionally more homogeneous Republicans struggled to squelch angry and factional differences.

This single fact bodes well for Democrats in 1992. Past Democratic nominating conventions — especially since 1968 — have had many delegates concentrating solely on a convention victory for their candidate; winning the presidency in November seemed like an afterthought.

Past conventions were tense, caused by the party's most troublesome issue: race. In 1984 (San Francisco) and 1988 (Atlanta) the Rev. Jesse Jackson personalized the race question with his own unsuccessful presidential candidacies. "What does Jesse want?" was the refrain heard throughout the Moscone Center and the Omni convention halls. It was believed that by appeasing Jackson a tidal wave of African-American votes would sweep the Democratic national ticket into office. It did not happen. The near beatification of Jackson in 1984 and his children in 1988 turned off significant numbers of nonblack voters. Add the party's very liberal presidential nominees and its campaign organization's chaos, and two landslide GOP White House victories resulted.

The 1992 Democratic National Convention in New York City was far different from recent party gatherings. In an almost surreal atmosphere, party nominee Arkansas Gov. Bill Clinton turned Democratic desires to "finally win a presidential election" into his critical tool for convention organization. He was aided immeasurably by the dominating political force at Madison Square Garden: gender. Clinton parlayed his "can win" candidacy with those of an impressive number of high-profile female Democratic candidates running for U.S. Senate and House seats in big electoral vote states. In 1992 women's issues and not racial issues generated the most delegate cheers, commanded the most media attention and unified philosophically diverse delegate groups against President George Bush.

In these hard economic times, calls for social and financial fairness (the gender issue) were far more acceptable to the delegates and the nation than past convention demands for economic and political fairness (the racial issue). By turning to gender, the Democrats also turned the thrust of their convention away from the poor to the middle class and from the inner city to suburban and small town America.

Almost unmentioned in this Democratic "Garden lovein" was the redefining of Clinton's past life experiences and character. Who could have predicted on Super Bowl Sunday 1992, when Clinton and his wife Hillary told a bemused national audience of television viewers that their marriage had overcome "problems," that seven months later this same individual would be the champion of women's rights? Who could have imagined that the candidate who withstood the greatest "bimbo bombardment" in presidential primary history could turn it all around at his party's convention and accept the nomination with a speech stressing his family values? The most surprising part of his character transformation was the ease with which he did it. Unless someone comes up with the ultimate smoking gun, Clinton should have free sailing on the character issue for the rest of the campaign.

Perhaps not since John Kennedy's 1960 campaign has a Democratic presidential candidate surrounded himself with shrewder, more hard-nosed advisers than Clinton has done in 1992. At Madison Square Garden he revealed a campaign battle plan that makes some very tough assumptions about two traditional Democratic voting blocs: liberals and African Americans.

For liberals, Clinton used a combination strategy: look at the alternative (Bush) and constantly remind everyone that going left does not get you very far in modern presidential politics. Thus, at the convention Clinton could mush specifics on spending priorities, push his moderate image within the party's political spectrum and go with Tennessee U.S. Sen. Al Gore for vice president. Watching and listening as their party moved to the center, more than one liberal diehard confided that "once elected, Clinton will be all right" (whatever that means). Finally, Clinton has his wife Hillary, whose value to him among male liberals is almost as great as her strength among progressive women.

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Clinton's strategy with African Americans is similar to his strategy with liberals. There was no personal or philosophical coddling of Jackson in New York City. Jackson and black aspirations were not synonymous at the Garden. Instead Clinton attempted to move forward on the race issue in a more delicate way. He left much of the convention organization to party chairman and 1988 Jackson campaign adviser Ron Brown. One cannot underestimate the effect on delegates (and television viewers) constantly seeing Brown, an African American, and his preponderantly black staff, expertly running the convention, acting as Clinton agents and schmoozing with the party's heavy hitters at various social functions. It caught the eye of many younger black delegates and elected officials. Still the question remains, without an active Jackson, can Clinton expect a heavy black turnout in November?

New York City was a different kind of Democratic National Convention from past ones in other ways.

• For the first time in recent memory, southern Democratic U.S. senators and congressmen actually attended their party's national convention and were willing to be seen on television.

• Dissension within this convention was limited to the supporters of former California Gov. Jerry Brown. Called "Brownies" by some Clinton backers, these folks were an odd assortment of environmentalists, neo-libertarians, well-meaning do-gooders and remnant socialists. Led by Brown, himself a curious combination of Thomas Acquinas and Dennis the Menace, these anti-Clintonists were more amusing than frightening to the front-runner.

• Like their GOP counterparts. Democratic convention organizers maintained a tight schedule and discipline over their speakers. Thursday night they had to stand down for 10 minutes because they were running ahead of schedule and did not want to miss TV prime time.

• The Illinois delegation was a model of decorum and efficiency. Under the steady hand and gaze of Illinois party chairman Gary LaPaille and with the presence of Chicago Mayor Richard Daley, there was no dissent, disagreement or disunity. Supporters of Brown and former Massachusetts U.S. Sen. Paul Tsongas were given every courtesy. Gone were the Chicago council war days of 1984 (San Francisco) and Chicago mayoral politics of 1988 (Atlanta). The presence in and acceptance by all the delegation of U.S. senatorial candidate Carol Moseley Braun was a major boost for Illinois unity. The last time Illinois Democrats delivered the state for its presidential candidate was 1964.

In sum, the Democrats held their best national convention since 1976. Clinton was viewed more as a vehicle to power than as a hero to be adored. Calls for change echoed everywhere, and bashing Bush and Vice President Dan Quayle went on unabated, unifying delegates on and off the convention floor. Nothing captured the depth of Democrats' desire for victory in 1992 more than the speech of New York Gov. Mario Cuomo. Arguably the best orator in America today, Cuomo swallowed his personal disdain for Clinton and gave an impassioned speech on behalf of the Democratic party, change and Clinton (in that order). One Chicago newspaperman said half-jokingly, "Imagine the speech Mario would have given if he liked the guy."

President George Bush came to Houston seeking a dual booster rocket for his slow-moving reelection campaign. First, he needed to convince his own party and its delegates that he was ready and eager, in the words of one Illinois Republican, "to kick Clinton's ass." Unlike eight years ago when another incumbent GOP president, Ronald Reagan, came to another Texas city, Dallas, to claim his renomination from a self-assured and victory-assured Republican convention, Bush in the Houston Dome had to restore campaign confidence in his own players. Second, the president had to convince the American voter why he deserved a second term, why Clinton did not deserve a first term and, most important, show some fire in the belly that he was ready to combat his Democratic foe one on one.

The boost Bush was seeking from his convention was unprecedented in recent political history. Throughout convention week every political observer, reporter and delegate pointed to Bush's closing night acceptance speech as the convention's — and perhaps the campaign's — critical moment. Unfortunately for Bush, the only writer who had the skill to weave so many diverse policy themes and political goals into an inspiring speech is still buried at Stratford upon Avon. Given the impossibility of his assignment, Bush and his speech writers hit enough points to 1) uplift their delegates and 2) show the American people that there was indeed going to be a contested presidential campaign in 1992.

Bush's success in Houston did not hide looming internal political problems for his campaign and the GOP. Though Republican convention organizers temporarily finessed the abortion issue (similar to what Democrats have been doing with the race issue at their recent conventions) the simmering pro-choice/pro-life debate is only one sign of the GOP dilemma.

The best rally in Houston was the meeting of the "God and Country Republicans" (GCRs) at the Sheraton Astrodome. Headliners at the standing-room-only gathering were Vice President Quayle, Phyllis Schlafly of Illinois and the two Pats: Robertson and Boone. The audience was mainly small town and rural Republicans who see their party intertwined with their way of life. To them "family values" are not open-ended with a span of choices. They believe firmly — almost as an ideology — in traditional relationships between men and women, individuals and God, and citizens and country. Being pro-life is merely part of the overall philosophical package of ideas that motivates this highly organized minority wing of the party.

In retrospect, Bush would have committed a catastrophic political mistake and would have turned the Astrodome into a political bloodbath if he had attempted to dump Quayle. The vice president carries a lot of water for Bush with this group. By themselves the GCRs cannot guarantee the president's reelection, but without their active participation Bush cannot win either. Finally, the tension between the GCRs and the conservative/moderate majority of Republicans will continue past this election. Only Ronald Reagan could pacify GCR demands with words and not actions; GCRs will continue exerting increased policy pressure on the GOP in efforts to turn the party to the hard right.

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Internal politics aside, Bush left Houston with some powerful weapons in his political arsenal. Clearly, foreign policy is a major presidential talking point. Bush's recitation in his acceptance speech of dramatic first-term achievements overseas was impressive. The cold war was won, the Berlin Wall is now rubble, Desert Storm was a massive military victory, and Eastern Europe is both liberated and moving toward capitalism and democracy. Clinton and Gore have no political choice but to grant overall praise to Bush for his foreign policy performance while nit-picking at some specifics. In average economic times Bush's foreign policy successes would sweep the president to reelection, but as his acceptance speech showed, 1992 is not a normal economic time.

The Republican convention's first two nights were not a takeover by the far right of both Bush and the party. Like earlier Democrat nominees, both Walter Mondale in San Francisco and Michael Dukakis in Atlanta, Bush had no choice but to give his ideological party foes their shot in the spotlight. Of the "right men," only former President Reagan gave a speech (by far the best presentation at the convention) that attempted to link Bush's '92 campaign to his and others' conservative roots. Pat Buchanan and Jack Kemp had their own agendas, and keynoter, Texas U.S. Sen. Phil Gramm, was so bad that few listened.

Most Republicans in Houston view Jim Baker as both Machiavelli and Merlin. They expect the former secretary of state to take control of the campaign, make it leaner and meaner, and simply push Bush to reelection. Faith in Baker's ability and skills crossed all factions' lines, and his mere presence in the campaign will likely create greater discipline among Republican operatives across the country.

Unless a vast number of newly registered voters comes onto the election rolls by November, or there is a sudden election-day surge of voters who usually don't vote, Bush's campaign challenge is to retain past supporters, not win new ones. In the last three presidential elections, Reagan and Bush have won overwhelming electoral vote landslides. In order for Bush to lose in 1992, a chunk of his 1988 voters must switch to Clinton. The president left little doubt at the convention that he will not only remind the American people of the Jimmy Carter era (the last Democratic president before Reagan) but will play upon old presidential voting loyalties. Bush will likely link Clinton to Carter, Mondale and Dukakis at every opportunity to reopen old wounds, reminding voters why they rejected recent Democratic candidates.

With both conventions over, some other observations for Illinois Democrats and Republicans:

• The Illinois Republican delegation was a much looser group than the state Democratic delegation in New York. GOP delegates were relaxed and unrestrained under the passive eye of their leader, Gov. Jim Edgar (hardly known as Mr. Nightlife).

• Rich Williamson, Illinois Republican U.S. senatorial candidate, received major political attention in Houston. With every legislative seat up for grabs and no other statewide candidacies, Illinois Republicans need Williamson to be competitive against Braun in November. The big difference between the two senatorial candidates at their respective conventions: in New York, delegates waited in line to shake Braun's hand; in Houston, Williamson had to introduce himself to several of the delegates.

• In Houston, Gov. Jim Edgar was clearly the dominant figure in the Illinois delegation. Back in Illinois, as head of the Bush-Quayle Illinois campaign, Edgar must deliver the state for the ticket to insure his continued political ascent. If Clinton carries Illinois, recriminations against Edgar, both public and private, will come quickly from Illinois GOP party regulars across the spectrum.

• In New York, Chicago Mayor Richard Daley played a part in the convention but did not lead the state delegation. It's no secret that Clinton has worked hard to develop a special relationship with the mayor (Daley was the only mayor to give a prime time speech at the Garden). Unlike Edgar, Daley will not be upfront in his party's Illinois presidential campaign, but a sizable portion of key Clinton campaign aides are former Daleyites. Daley must be having some thoughts of the possibility of rebuilding a White House-City Hall axis that worked so well for his father under Presidents John Kennedy and Lyndon Johnson.

The November presidential results should show Illinois geopolitical dynamics shifting more vote power to the suburbs. In the past, Democratic vote margins in Chicago would be cancelled out by GOP margins in the suburban 5 1/2 counties surrounding metropolitan Chicago (suburban Cook and the collar counties of DuPage, Kane, Lake, McHenry and Will). The key to victory would be downstate (the other 96 counties). In 1992, unless a huge and unprecedented percentage of Chicagoans turn out, the Illinois presidential election for the first time could be dominated by the suburban vote. The suburban 5 1/2 counties have been the main population growth area of the state, and their residents' overall demographics suggest that they are more likely to vote. Clearly Clinton cannot leave the suburbs to Bush and hope to carry Illinois. On the other hand, the president is not guaranteed traditional suburban GOP vote margins. Thus, Illinois will be a political battleground this autumn, with Clinton probably forcing Bush to defend more than the president would like: his suburban political base.

In other states the Democratic ticket is risking turning off potential African-American turnout by either skipping over or generalizing about so-called black-oriented issues. That is unlikely to happen in Illinois. Braun's high profile in her intensive media campaign statewide and nationally should guarantee Clinton a strong black Democratic turnout in Illinois.

Paul M. Green is director of the Institute for Public Policy and Administration, Governors State University in Governors Park.

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