SIMON'S RIGHT ON THE MONEY CHRIS WEINKOPF.

SHOULD former Los Angeles Mayor Richard Riordan become the next governor of California, his first point of order, one would presume, would be to hire his old friend and opponent, Bill Simon. Throughout the first Republican gubernatorial debate Tuesday, Riordan continually stressed the need for a governor to surround himself with ``the best and the brightest,'' and on that stage at San Jose State University, it was Simon who fit the bill.

But it takes more than intellect or convictions to win statewide office. Name recognition, voter appeal and political savvy all play arguably greater roles, and in these areas, Simon was clearly at a disadvantage both to Riordan and to fellow candidate Bill Jones, California's secretary of state.

Of the candidates, it was Jones who did the most to improve his prospects, which, like Simon's, are slim. He did what any underdog must do to turn a campaign around: Go on the offensive. He took hard but fair shots at Riordan's record, his vision and his integrity.

For Riordan, who sits atop a 20-point lead in the polls, a massive campaign fund and a mountain of endorsements from most of the California GOP establishment, the Republican primary is little more than a warm-up to the big race this fall. His approach to the debate was strictly defensive - trying more not to lose voters than to pick up new ones - and by that measure, successful.

Throughout most of the evening, Riordan spoke in mild generalities, stressing the need to ``empower people,'' to make the party ``inclusive'' and, of course, to hire ``the best and the brightest people that I could find in the world to help me solve (the state's) problems.'' He also tried to reassure Republicans who might be uneasy about his liberal disposition, dissociating himself from previous, deliberately ambiguous remarks about gay marriage and raising the minimum wage.

While neither Jones nor Simon thought to call Riordan on the flip-flops, Jones made great sport of debunking the ``best and brightest'' fallacy, aka the myth of the perfect public administrator.

He began by reminding the state's Republicans that among Riordan's appointees as mayor was none other than former Department of Water and Power General Manager David Freeman, now serving as Davis' ``energy czar'' and acting like quite the energy Bolshevik in Sacramento.

``It's not good enough just to hire the best and the brightest,'' Jones fired at Riordan, ``you have to have some vision and leadership, and you have not given the people of California in this campaign so far any indication of what the issues (are) and how you believe you should deal with these.''

It was a tough indictment of Riordan's low-intensity campaign, but it would have been all the more effective coming from Simon's lips. Of the three candidates, it was Simon who best outlined what he perceived to be the state's woes and how he intended to tackle them.

He was, to use his own words, the ``candidate of ideas,'' offering up reforms for energy, homeland security and illegal immigration. He outlined a functional balanced-budget plan in less than minute: Start with Davis' proposed $4 billion in cuts, don't fill the state's vacant job positions, slash the $100 million in pork used to pass last year's budget, cut all new programs started up last year, and take 15 percent off the top of all state operating expenses.

Simon was also refreshingly candid about his beliefs. He unabashedly defended his pro-life convictions, and announced, ``I am a proud conservative Republican'' - twice.

But unlike Jones, Simon doesn't seem to understand that to erode Riordan's lead, he must not only raise his own approval ratings, but lower Riordan's. Throughout the night, he played the role of good guy to his own detriment, faithfully honoring Ronald Reagan's 11th Commandment about not bad-mouthing a fellow Republican.

Jones dispensed with the political pieties. He played to win.

If the two candidates could somehow be fused into one, just maybe they would have a chance at besting Riordan in the Republican primary. Sadly for them both, they will occupy two lines on the March 5 ballot, meaning that they will most likely split the anti-Riordan vote, and give the candidate with neither the most coherent policies nor the best political acumen the chance to face Davis in November.

Despite running a decidedly un-Republican campaign, Riordan remains popular among Republican voters because most believe he can beat Davis. And for good reason: He's affable, he enjoys widespread name recognition and he's twice won elected office as a Republican in a city that's doggedly Democratic.

These are the intangibles of a campaign, political assets often more valuable than vision or even political skill. In a race against an incumbent in a state where incumbents seldom lose, they become all the more important. Davis might be weighed down by a busted budget, the energy crisis and a failing public-education system (the three Republicans were eager to remind us), but incumbency alone still makes him the favorite.

To defeat Davis, Republicans will probably need a combination of Riordan's popularity, Simon's ideas and Jones' pugnacity. When they go to the polls on March 5, they'll have to decide which ingredient they value most.

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(1 -- color) RIORDAN

(2 -- color) SIMON

(3 -- color) JONES