Gentleman

WASHINGTON - Amid the war and nonstop media coverage of the past two weeks, our country lost a giant figure in American politics. Pat Moynihan was a close friend and former colleague. He was a member of my generation, now a disappearing generation, who possessed perhaps the most respected mind of anyone I have known in public life. The former senator and U.N. ambassador from New York was laid to rest at Arlington National Cemetery on Monday afternoon in a relatively quiet ceremony. As has been noted in the many tributes this past week, Pat was an American original - one-of-a-kind.

Charles H. Hadry, one of the most beloved and respected horsemen in Maryland, died yesterday morning of cancer at his home in Westminster. He was 72. At 16, Hadry began working at the Laurel racetrack for Hall of Fame trainer Frank Whiteley Jr. Hadry began training on his own in the 1950s and reached his zenith in 1988 with Private Terms, the favorite in the Kentucky Derby. He had been ill for about a year, but particularly so in recent weeks. It's almost as if he fought to stay alive until his horse, P Day, could run in the $100,000 John B. Campbell Handicap at Laurel Park.

ESTHER, CHARLES, Pauline and William. It's doubtful you'll ever see their names mentioned in the pages of some history book. But here, at the onset of Black History Month, I think of them tenderly, reverently. They are my beloved grandparents - all of whom are now, sadly, deceased. William proved a stalwart presence until his death at 90 about a year ago. With the myriad activity that occurs each February honoring great leaders and traditions in the African-American community, I can't help but acknowledge the people right within my own family.

My friend Steve Gavin handed me a ticket across the city desk of the old News American. Steve, then a columnist and forever the Broadway hound, had been up to New York to see On the Twentieth Century at the St. James Theatre. He thought I would like the show and produced the little stub that put me in an orchestra seat a few weeks later. I think back to that afternoon in 1978, when I got my chance to see this show, newly written in part by Adolph Green, who died this past Thursday in Manhattan.

TIPPED THAT Keith E. Haynes, lawyer in Da Boss' law firm and candidate for the House of Delegates from Baltimore's 44th District, lived in Columbia, not the city, I popped the question: Do you sleep, eat and get your mail in the 44th? "Yes," Haynes answered, aware that an answer otherwise could constitute a violation of the residency requirements for getting on the ballot, something that has gotten other politicians in hot water. "I no longer live in Columbia." I asked how long Haynes, an attorney in the law office of Peter G. Angelos, had lived in Baltimore.

EVERY PLAYER knew it had to happen: a really bad day for Tiger. His 81 last weekend brought a knowing smile to the faces of proud hackers, the Sunday players who marvel at Tiger Woods' consistency, his strength, his elegance and equanimity. Marveled at them - and knew they wouldn't always be enough. It wasn't gloating about Tiger's vulnerability, but an affirmation of the maddening game. The world's best player had come back to earth during the third round of the British Open. He shot 81, putting himself out of contention for the championship.

There's a scene in "The Remorseful Day," tomorrow night's final episode in the 13-year run of PBS' "Inspector Morse" series, that's one of the most elegantly crafted and perfectly distilled television moments you will ever see. Chief Inspector Morse (John Thaw) and Detective Sgt. Lewis (Kevin Whatley) are sitting outside a quiet pub at sunset - Morse with the usual glass of ale, Lewis with orange juice. The camera is shooting them from the side so the two serve as bookends at the lower left and lower right of the frame.

Political junkies who enjoy an old-fashioned, kidney-punching, name-calling, insult-trading grudge match should avoid Maryland's 5th District congressional campaign this year. The race has been downright gentlemanly, and most of the blame for that goes to the Republican challenger, Del. Thomas E. Hutchins. He's just one of the nicest guys you'll ever meet. Ask his opponent, Democratic Rep. Steny H. Hoyer. "Tim Hutchins is a nice fellow. This is not a guy who's into attacks," Hoyer said last week after a civil, issues-oriented debate with the former state police captain.

THIS YEAR, I really want to go back to school, to elementary school. Not for the pristine saddle oxfords, all perfectly black and white with no creases. Not for the five cotton plaid dresses, one for each day and each in a different combination of the autumnal palette. And not for the box of crayons, all lined up in their proper space, tips perfectly flat. No, I want to go back this year because finally, at age 48, I have material for the "How I Spent My Summer Vacation" essay. I can remember agonizing over the topic, writing and erasing, writing and erasing, and then finally conceding that not much exciting had happened to me since the last class before vacation.