Carl McCall walked into room 2550-F/Studio A of the Municipal Building at 9:50 a.m., took a seat and was followed seven minutes later by Andrew Cuomo. They were to debate on WNYC in these final days before the Democratic primary for governor. Both, of course, are engaged in the desperate mission of bringing about a regime change in Albany.

We jackals of the press were jammed into 2550-C/Studio B across the hall, sitting on funeral parlor folding chairs, with small hillocks of bagels and Danish offered as consolation. Through the wide studio windows, we could see one dramatic difference in the two Democrats. McCall wore a light gray suit. Cuomo wore a dark gray suit.

The event was another of the exhausting rituals that make up the retail end of the business of politics. It promised some vitality because Gerson Borrero was the co-questioner for the radio debate, along with WNYC's excellent Brian Lehrer. My friend Gerson is the editor of El Diario-La Prensa, but he also is one of the best radio hosts in any language. His provocative talents are so sharp that he has been fired by the last two Spanish-language radio stations that employed him. The debate would be in Spanish and English.

As it turned out, it was mostly in English, and no matter how hard Lehrer or Borrero tried, it turned into oral Novocain.

"Let me start by telling a little bit about myself," said McCall, who had won a coin toss to start first. "What I'm trying to do as governor really comes from my own life experience. I was raised by my mother, a remarkable woman, who raised me and five sisters all by herself. We were poor, we were on welfare, so my mother couldn't give me a lot of material things. But she passed on some good advice. She told me I'd have to work hard for everything I'd ever choose to do, I'd have to earn it, nobody'd ever give me anything. And she told me that the most important thing to do was get a good education. She told me education was like a sledgehammer, it could knock down any obstacle anyone puts in front of you ..."

This was certainly genuine, even deeply felt. But McCall has been saying this through hundreds of appearances — it's part of his TV advertising campaign. The jackals of the press hear it, for the 792nd time, and they can feel their brain cells dying. McCall's mother must have truly been a remarkable woman, because her son is a man of uncommon decency. But the tale of her influence has become a perfect example of BOMFOG, a word coined by newspapermen who covered Nelson Rockefeller years ago. BOMFOG stood for "the Brotherhood of Man under the Fatherhood of God," a phrase Rockefeller used on the campaign trail in place of anything that might resemble actual thought.

Cuomo followed with his own version of BOMFOG.

"New York faces a real challenge," he said. "It has urgent needs. We know that. The world is less secure. Our economy is stagnant. And our schools are failing. Four out of 10 public schools fail in the State of New York. About 75% in the city. I'm running for governor because ... the old government ways in Albany aren't working. They haven't gotten results for people. I believe we can make government work. I believe we can get results. That's what I've done all my career ..."

Part of the reason for the blandness of what followed was the assembly in Studio B. Much political coverage these days is about mistakes. Not ideas, or visions, but gaffes. Did Cuomo blow the campaign when he said what he did about Gov. Pataki holding Rudy's coat after Sept. 11? Will he do it again and seal his doom? Will McCall say something even vaguely controversial and thus wreck his own chances? The BOMFOG is dreadful, but it's endured in hopes that one of the candidates will suddenly kneecap himself in front of an audience. Original ideas are seen by the candidates as a waste of time, since nobody will pay attention. Worse, they could hurt you. Better to offer a résumé and a little tapioca. Better to stick to the BOMFOG.

Ducking questions

Borrero did his best to provoke something new. Talking to Cuomo, he asked: "Where have you disagreed with your father? Or is this like Bush and his father ..."

McCall laughed at the question, but Cuomo turned away from his father, Mario Cuomo, and discussions of the past, and said he wanted to talk about the future. Then it went back to McCall, who started talking about pension funds, and pens began getting loose in the limp hands of the reporters.

"There's a culture in Albany that's dysfunctional," Cuomo said at one point, and McCall nodded in agreement, but neither man elaborated on a truth we've all known for a half-century. There was much talk about the deal that Pataki made with union leader Dennis Rivera, and Borrero raised the 75% approval rating among Latinos for Pataki. To no avail. BOMFOG floated around the room like gas. Cuomo said, "I'm the guy who stops the dance ..."

Since there were hopes for a Latino audience, Cuomo at one point glanced at a card and said, "Palabras no, obras si." Words no, works yes. Meaning, of course, that he wouldn't just talk as governor, he would make things happen. McCall said that he'd actually made things happen.

While they were talking, some younger reporters were snickering and making remarks, while various spinmaestros were laying reaction handouts on their laps.

My favorite caller spoke in Spanish from Newark and referred to "Como Se Dice Pataki." Roughly translated into New Yorkese, this means "What's His Name Pataki." The caller wanted to know about the numbers of Latinos that McCall and Cuomo had actually employed, and they replied with percentages. Borrero pressed for names of people in the upper reaches of their campaigns. McCall named three. Cuomo gave several names. No sparks flew.

Finally it was over. The candidates would talk to the press again, out in the hall, and goforth to the long day's battles in the valiant struggle against Como Se Dice Pataki. Someone asked me who I thought had won. I said, Gerson Borrero, of course.