Lost In The Big Blur

MY WIFE HAS A THEORY about me, and it's not especially flattering. Actually, her theory also applies to some of my colleagues who chose to make a career of writing and broadcasting about politics. She says that we started out as college kids wanting to have influence in public affairs, but that instead of subjecting ourselves to the voters, we took the easy, less risky route to power: journalism. That gave us authority without accountability, exposure without feeling exposed, sound bites without chicken and peas.

Naturally, I take umbrage: Just trying to report the news, dear. But she has some big guns on her side. Theodore Roosevelt was scathing about ""the critics'' who were not manly enough to venture into ""the arena.'' Sam Rayburn didn't fully trust anyone who hadn't ""run for sheriff.'' Even today political reporters are often described as the ones who come down from the hills after the battle is over and shoot the wounded.

But what happens when you can't tell the cowboys from the Indians anymore? The latest fence jumper is New York Rep. Susan Molinari, who announced last week that she is chucking her promising GOP political career as the highest-ranking woman in the House of Representatives in favor of a gig anchoring a Saturday-morning show for CBS News. What's so striking about her decision is that instead of explaining it as a way to spend more time with her 1-year-old daughter (prominently featured during Molinari's keynote address at last summer's Republican National Convention), she says the move is the fulfillment of a personal dream. ""Susan's now a superstar,'' said her husband, Rep. Bill Paxon.

More often, the career path works the other way. John F. Kennedy and Al Gore both left newspapering to run for Congress. Sen. Rod Grams and Reps. Ron Klink and Scott Klug are former TV anchors. ""We all belong to the hair-dryer caucus,'' jokes Klug. ""Now we'll have to make Susan an honorary member.'' Klug, who is now leaving Congress to go into business, applauds Molinari's move as another healthy example of voluntary term limits. In the old days a member of the House leadership would only have exited feet first. This is progress, but it also marks a stunning change. The Washington establishment now consists of awkward interlopers (the politicians) and self-satisfied old goats (the media), who remain in place for decades, wielding their dif-fuse but consistent agenda-setting power.

Molinari's got company. She follows former Clinton aide George Stephanopoulos, who recently signed on as a commentator with ABC News and NEWSWEEK, and former senator Bill Bradley, who did the same with CBS News. Diane Sawyer worked for Richard Nixon before joining ABC News; Tim Russert, for Gov. Mario Cuomo before NBC News. Pat Buchanan perennially runs for president from his perch on CNN's ""Crossfire,'' where his cohosts include former representative Geraldine Ferraro, the 1984 Democratic nominee for vice president, and Bill Press, ex-chair of the California Democratic Party. Capitol Hill and news organizations are loaded with lesser-known fence jumpers.

Is that a problem? Not necessarily. Journalists often find that they understand much more about the cogs and levers of the system after some experience inside it. Politicians who are former journalists often ask better questions in hearings. It gets dicey only when the players move back and forth across the scrimmage line more than once. Journalists who go for more than one tour in politics lose their claim to independence. And reporters should worry when political figures start exploiting the business, especially from the anchor chair. We're supposed to be the vehicle for covering politicians - not their personal rocket boosters. Molinari declined to rule out a possible return to politics, which means she may use her new TV visibility to launch a campaign for higher office. Yuck.