HEY AL! I'M OVER HERE ... WRITER REALLY HAS TO HAND IT TO GORE.

Byline: KEVIN MODESTI

MANCHESTER, N.H. - For a Californian accustomed to experiencing politics only through television, it was shocking to discover how accessible candidates for president of the United States can be on the weekend before the nation's first primary.

Ever since 1988, a fellow sportswriter and I have escaped from our work by traveling to New Hampshire - a state with about as many people as the San Fernando Valley - to shake the hand of every presidential candidate.

The first time we figured we'd be lucky to meet a couple of candidates and blessed if we wound up being able to say later, after the November election, that we had shaken the next president's hand.

But in three days in 1988, without reporters' credentials or any campaign affiliation, using only the access available to any citizen with time, energy and gas money, we were able to shake the hands of all 13 Democratic and Republican hopefuls, including Massachusetts Gov. Michael Dukakis and Vice President George Bush.

Getting the handshake became our obsession, the mark of having met the candidate. And our string of successes continued in 1992 and 1996. We shook every hand except those of sitting presidents Bush and Clinton; thank goodness we had ``gotten'' them during their initial runs.

We scaled an 8-foot snowbank to shake hands with candidate Jesse Jackson and spent nights in the bar at the Wayfarer hotel in Bedford with political journalism heavyweights Jack Germond, David Broder, E.J. Dionne Jr. and Judy Woodruff.

We elbowed through crowds to capture the most promising spot along the rope line to shake with Bill and Hillary Clinton, talked our way into the Al-Gore Shoe Factory to meet Pat Robertson (not Al Gore), staked out a hotel's back door in bitter cold for Pat Buchanan and absorbed 45 minutes of bluster from a borderline wacko for Bob Dornan's handshake.

In 1992, when another colleague had taken up our hobby, it took only 15 minutes in Manchester on the Saturday before the vote to stumble across two candidates - a fringe Republican named Jim Lennane and Democratic primary winner-in-the-making Paul Tsongas (who popped out of a Greek restaurant as we happened by).

Sometimes the handshakes were memorable in themselves.

Gary Hart gave us ``soul'' shakes at a roadside cantina. Bob Dole's left- handed shake presented a puzzle. (Having decided to stick out my left hand, I absent-mindedly offered my left to Dole endorser Al Haig as well.)

Somehow, along with our talent for anticipating exactly which door the candidate would enter or exit, we acquired the knack for avoiding the suspicion of the Secret Service and ancillary security forces. At least, none of us has been thrown up against a wall so far.

Fickle fingers

Our very first candidate encounter in 1988 taught me a fundamental lesson about the value of so-called retail politics. We caught up with Pierre S. ``Pete'' du Pont in a shopping mall as the Delaware governor waged a hopeless campaign for the Republican nomination. After one quick handshake and negligible conversation, I couldn't help feeling that ol' Pete, with whom I had little in common ideologically, had become my candidate.

My support endured for about an hour, until I shook Pat Robertson's hand in a shoe factory and found myself thinking the most extreme of the major-party candidates might not make a bad president after all.

So it went, the power of the handshake elevating candidate after candidate, each more charismatic than the last.

Which is why politicians press all that flesh in the first place.

And which is why Al Gore's campaign before the Feb. 1 New Hampshire primary was so disappointing, as judged by the narrow standards of one who hopes to be touched - literally - by a candidate. < McCain nails it

What sorts of first impressions did the 2000 candidates make?

John McCain strode across the country road outside the Derry Boys and Girls Club until he was toe to toe with me and offered the firmest handshake of any of the seven Republican and Democratic contenders. McCain listened so intently as I said, ``Good luck, Senator,'' I was embarrassed to have nothing more profound to add than, ``Hope to see you in California!''

George W. Bush shook hands quickly before walking onward. If we hadn't caught his attention by shouting (``Governor! Handshake?!'') and extending our arms, Bush would have committed the minor blunder of ignoring the crowd lining his walk to the rally stage erected on an indoor tennis court in Milford.

Steve Forbes reached out from the inside seat in a booth at a Manchester diner to shake hands and switch on a smile before continuing to hold court for TV cameras.

Alan Keyes shook my hand without a glance, continuing to score verbal points with the man beside me as he made his way slowly through the crowd of Second Amendment aficionados in a Hudson shop called Pete's Gun and Tackle.

Gary Bauer - little Gary Bauer - looked grateful for the attention as he shook hands at the dais before delivering to Hillsborough County Republicans a crisp rationale for an uncompromising conservative's candidacy.

Bill Bradley, his St. Louis Rams cap askew, engulfed my hand in his and lit up when I congratulated him on a spirited halftime speech - unusually spirited for him, I was careful not to imply - in front of Super Bowl viewers in a Manchester restaurant.

And Gore?

On the phone, on the three mornings before the Tuesday vote, other candidates' headquarters were able to provide us with their men's public appearance schedules in varying degrees of detail. McCain's volunteers had an hour-by-hour itinerary at their fingertips. Bush's office in Manchester handed out itineraries with driving directions.

But Gore's people said they didn't know where he was on any given day. His office in Concord referred us to his office in Nashua and vice versa. A volunteer took my name and said he'd call back. He didn't.

Gore out of reach

For a group of what now numbered seven handshake seekers from California, Colorado, Chicago and New York, Gore's people offered no advice or encouragement.

On Sunday, we drove down to Nashua, hoping to catch Gore at a Super Bowl party his campaign was hosting at a Main Street restaurant. But the party was restricted to supporters from Tennessee and security was tight.

Not even the volunteers in the Gore office across the street could get in.

We zoomed back up the turnpike to Manchester for Bradley's more welcoming Super Bowl party. As the candidate addressed the crowd, a group of young people wearing Gore buttons and long faces stood quietly in the back of the room.

On Monday night, our last chance to see Gore, we went to Amherst for what was advertised in the newspaper as an ``open meeting with undecided voters'' in a school gymnasium.

``Undecided?'' The woman ahead of us in line said she's a Gore delegate. Supporters were being asked to remove their Gore buttons, presumably so they'd look like undecideds on TV. ``Open?'' There was an invitation list at the door. We were turned out into the cold.

Sure enough, TV and newspaper coverage gave the impression Gore had been mixing it up with voters all weekend. But that's what clever staging will do for you.

Hard to embrace

How, I understand the requirements of Secret Service agents and fire marshals. They can't let just anybody in to see the vice president. Then again, that didn't stop us from meeting George Bush in that Republican receiving line in 1988.

And I'm hardly naive about campaign tactics. Sometimes a candidate doesn't want to press the flesh, opening himself up to hostile questions, not when he's leading in the polls and his rival is accusing him of lying and flip-flopping on the issues.

So I won't go so far as to say I couldn't vote for Gore because he left us with the only blemish on our record for meeting would-be presidents. Still, for us part-time New Hampshirites, it's hard to embrace a candidate if we can't get close enough to shake his hand.

On my flight home the day after the New Hampshire vote, I read that Gore had scheduled an ``open'' meeting in Los Angeles that night. I called his L.A. campaign office and was told there was an invitation list and it probably was full. The woman on the phone took my name and said she would call back. She didn't.

But I haven't given up hope of shaking the hand of presidential candidate Al Gore. The California primary comes up March 7 and I know he'll be coming to L.A. a lot in the next few weeks.

Maybe he'll pick up a phone and call me, or drop by the paper and say, ``Hi, I'm Al Gore and I hope you'll vote for me for president of the United States.''

We'll see.

CAPTION(S):

2 photos

Photo:

(1 -- color) While intrepid sports columnist Kevin Modesti missed shaking the hand of presidential candidate Al Gore on the campaign trail, the Daily News - with a little help from modern technology - created this Gore encounter for him.

Photo illustration by Lori Valesko/Daily News

(2) Republican presidential candidate Texas Gov. George W. Bush uses a little body language in his follow through during a game of candlepin bowling at a campaign stop in Nashua, N.H. in January.

Eric Draper/Staff Photographer