Houston Chron

May 2, 2001, 6:30PM

Count the ways Professor Gore disappointed

By HEATHER SAUCIER

WHEN Al Gore came to Columbia University's Graduate School of Journalism as a "VP," or "visiting professor," as he called it, the press flocked outside the school's doors, pointed microphones in students' faces, and asked the infamous question: "What did he say?"

Because the class was initially "off the record," we were told we couldn't comment. But members of the media wanted to crack the mystery of why the former vice president wanted to pick up a piece of chalk, wander into a classroom and teach a class called "national affairs."

Although the last of the eight classes was Tuesday, the reasons for Gore's seemingly impulsive decision to teach still escape students and faculty. Did he come to instill his policies into the next generation of journalists in case he runs for office in 2004? Was he teaching at the nation's most prestigious journalism school to remain in the limelight after his painful divorce from politics?

Columbia took a beating for its zip-the-lips policy and lifted it after the first class. Gore called it a "misunderstanding," saying the goal was to keep outside reporters from the class, not to silence students. We brought our pens and reporters' notebooks to class, which was held roughly every other Wednesday for 90 minutes. We discussed philosophies such as "the medium as the message" and the importance of writing uplifting stories about disenfranchised communities. We sat across from celebrity guests Rupert Murdoch, Alan Greenspan and David Letterman.

To the outsider, it seemed a lot was happening behind the classroom doors guarded by Secret Service agents. But the truth was, Gore wasn't talking. The former vice president was happy to tell us that the Earth was 10 degrees warmer than normal. He was happy to bring in David Letterman to try to confirm his theory that political humor shapes the way people perceive the news. (Letterman disagreed, by the way.) But he refused to get personal.

On the first day of class, he asked what we wanted to talk about. We told him we wanted to know if he ever felt cheated by the press. We wanted to know about politics from an insider's point of view and, of course, his true feelings about the election.

We already had access to experienced professors who specialize in mass communication, the environment and covering communities. But Gore refused to be a unique resource and taught the class according to his own lesson plan. It turned out to be more icing than cake. He turned himself into a talk show host, sitting at the front of the room with his guests, interviewing them as we watched. In this game of "Q and A" the "A" was often missing. When students tried to ask Federal Reserve Chairman Alan Greenspan questions, Gore uttered the words "no comment" before Greenspan could. Not wanting to discuss tax cuts or the possibility of a recession, Greenspan spent his time stressing the importance of ethical reporting and maintaining a trustworthy reputation.

Media magnate Rupert Murdoch spent his time defending the media monopoly, stressing that he does not influence the content of newspapers or television broadcasts. "Our job is to tell the truth to our readers," he said. Gore's most entertaining guest was David Letterman, brought in to discuss Gore's theory that political humor shapes people's perception of news. But Letterman wasn't an ally. "More people read the funnies than the front page, but do they act on what Blondie does?" he said.

The sense of discontent grew among students and faculty members, as they voiced their complaints outside of class. By Gore's fifth class, I only saw half of the students in my national reporting seminar there. Gore was asked twice to comment on the results of the USA Today, Miami Herald and Knight Ridder vote recount in Florida and refused to speak. His teaching assistant, Phillipe Reines, told one student via e-mail that if Gore wouldn't speak to Tom Brokaw, why would he speak to this class? We were mere peons, desired by the vice president for reasons that may never be fully revealed.

Gore waited to the last day of class to explain his presence. "I wanted to try my hand at teaching," he said. When asked why he never opened up, he said, "If that's what you wanted from this class, you didn't get it. Hey, sorry." Admitting he plans to re-enter the public arena, perhaps as a candidate, he didn't want the class to be a "press conference" about the election, he said.

And so the question marks remain. But some of us have found solace in a T-shirt. We plan to make shirts bearing Gore's face with the words "Gore 2001: Off the Record" underneath. On the back, we will list like concert dates all the questions we would like to have had answered.

-- Anonymous, May 03, 2001