It makes perfect sense to a person marooned in a convention city suffused with phony symbolism that the first famous advance man in politics worked for a dictator, albeit a somewhat enlightened one. In the 18th century, Catherine the Great mixed a preference for modernity with a ruthless hold on power. Artifice was as important to the ruler as it was to the ruled, illusions being central to the totalitarian mind-set. Enter Grigori Aleksandrovich Potemkin. On a journey through the Ukraine and Crimea - what might be called a campaign swing today - it was Potemkin's precedent-setting duty to construct fake pretty villages along her route, houses and barns worthy of a second-rate Hollywood Western, where all the buildings had but one nicely painted side. Potemkin's name is invoked today more in derision than description - Hillary Clinton and just about every other Democratic kibitzer here for the Republican convention used it all weekend - but the truth is that it fits the modern convention like a glove. What's important today is that Potemkin's legacy in politics is as apparent in language as it is in physical trappings. In Boston a month ago, you could not inquire about a high-profile Democrat's health without being told he was stronger at home and respected in the world. In New York this past week, there wasn't a Republican to be found who hasn't turned a corner and is not turning back. In Boston, the problem (more apparent after the convention) with the theme-mixing (strong in policy and strong in John Kerry's biography) was that the "messages" did little to make it clear to Americans dissatisfied with the country's direction that the Democrats offered an alternative. The problem in New York is that the Potemkin village clashes with the surprisingly real and engaging one in the streets. Anything that jars political conventions' calculations or clashes with the party line is to be celebrated, but the surprise through last weekend and well into the week was that "the other convention" overshadowed the real one. Grigori Potemkin's acolytes plopped Dick Cheney down on Ellis Island, with the twin-towers-missing Manhattan skyline perfectly framed for TV in the background. About 100 "people" and a marching band were transported to cheer as he declared President Bush was strong and tough. Local icon Rudy Giuliani, completing his makeover from leader to cashing-in mascot, lent his presence. Across the harbor, nearly a quarter-million people marched up Seventh Avenue to Madison Square Garden and stole the show. No speeches, no big shot Democrats in the wings or even in the march, just people. The country does not agree with the views of most of them about getting out of Iraq, but the real political impact was a combination of immense size and genuineness of commitment as a contrast to what is turning into a demeaning, ritualistic, borderline cynical embrace of 9/11. New York City became the convention venue while the Bush White House was in the grip of its Mission Accomplished delusion, the result of what Bush now actually claims was a mess created by the "catastrophic success" of the Iraq invasion. The consensus in New York is that the real New York City - with fewer police and firefighters than before the attacks, with gigantic fiscal and economic problems traceable to Bush administration policies, and an informed view of the wasteful diversion from fighting terror that Iraq has proved to be - would not be the Republicans' choice today. The problem is not that John Kerry is likely to carry it by as much as a 5-1 margin. The problem is that New York doesn't fit Bush's Potemkin Village view; in fact, it mocks it. Kerry might cringe, but during last Sunday's march I walked part of the way with a delightful group of a hundred or so repentant Naderites, striding behind a banner that was a tad rough but at least honest: Kerry Sucks Less. The day before, at another impressive demonstration - a pro-choice march that filled Brooklyn Bridge and stretched to the park at City Hall - a local congressman, Anthony Weiner, referred to the GOP convention as "hermetically sealed" in its limousines, hotels, reception venues, and convention hall - sealed from New York, people, museums, even from Ground Zero. And yet, he said, the sealed-off party seeks to rule the reproductive lives of New York's women. He might have added that the party now fights a "war on terror" that the original target of the attacks thinks has nutty priorities and not enough real results while spending more per capita in Wyoming on "homeland security" than in New York. Potemkin had a bad weekend, and week, in Manhattan.