Bill and Carol and Ted and who?

Loosely Speaking by Nancy Gaines

Hot scuttlebutt has Ted Kennedy indeed running again in 2000, to keep his ample seat warm not for wife Vicki in 2006 (a rumor debunked in this space -- see "Loosely Speaking," December 4), but for -- ta da! -- Hillary Clinton. As the notion goes, the First Martyr holds a warm place in her heart for her college days at Wellesley and for the (political) climes on the Vineyard, to say nothing of her fear of the ultraliberal void Ted's retirement would leave. And, if both Uncle Joe and Papa Ted were absent from the Washington limelight, Rhode Island congressman Patrick Kennedy could step out of the shadows and become a force in his own right. Young Kennedy and Hillary are close. He escorted her to Central America in the wake of Hurricane Mitch, and he strenuously argued her husband's case on Capitol Hill. Patrick's people shrug off the theory (and, frankly, we didn't ask Hillary -- we didn't want to raise the subject of whether Bill would be coming with her), but the scenario makes sense to some in the know. (Carol? That was just a trick.)

Our gal Gail blows lid off Jeopardy Alex Trebek whispers in contestant's ear! Producers provide answers! Winners have a gimmick! Well, sort of, as we now know. The Phoenix's Gail Fouts Bernstein was picked from among thousands of aspiring Bostonians to be a contestant on Jeopardy. Her appearance airs December 23 at 7:30 p.m. on WHDH, Channel 7. Bernstein, an account executive in national advertising sales, answered an ad last March seeking Jeopardy contestants, and after arduous testing and auditions, she made the final cut. And cutting it was. First off, contestants must pay for their own fare and lodging for the Los Angeles taping, sign a zillion disclaimers, and promise not to mention their employer on the air, lest it smack of free advertising. Game-show staff give no clues or help on what questions may be asked. (But they do tell you not to "wear all black or all white" and to bring five changes of clothes because up to five segments are taped on one day, and you have to look like you left and came back.) And contestants aren't allowed to fraternize with Trebek, lest there be any appearance of impropriety. The trickiest part, says Bernstein, who taped her segment in October, is "knowing how to ring in. Lights flash when Alex has finished asking the question and you can push," says Bernstein, "and if you're a shade too early, you're penalized. If you coincide with other contestants, you're canceled out. The people who go on to win a lot of games aren't just smart, they've gotten into a groove with pushing the button." And, she adds, "It's luck. The 'Final Jeopardy' category before me was opera, and I thought, 'God, I'd be dead.' But I knew the answer. My final was food and drink, which I thought would be a piece of cake, and it was sooooo hard." There was one big prize ("on which I pay taxes," but which made the trip, financially, a wash), she says, but the best part was when, as the credits rolled, host Trebek warbled "Lady in Red" in her ear. As it happened, her segment coincided with a Christmas theme, and she wore a red suit. "It was like an out-of-body experience."

Kerry: On the verge

Meanwhile, as the testing of presidential waters in New Hampshire heats up, the Bay State's junior senator is getting a mixed reception. John Kerry angered some key Granite State Democrats with a perceived snub in Manchester, but wowed others at another appearance there. While Kerry has no formal campaign aides or advance people in the state (unlike Al Gore, Dick Gephardt, and, until he pulled out last week, Bob Kerrey), he's got an unofficial guardian angel in Bill Verge, a party stalwart who's met with Kerry in Boston and Portsmouth. Verge says he expects an answer from Kerry over the holidays on what he plans to do.

That decision will no doubt affect national party support for Al Gore. Kerry was quoted last month in the Globe as questioning Gore activists on just how strongly "they had pledged their allegiance" to the veep. Which raises the question of just when a "pledge of allegiance" became a situational ethic.

Native intelligence

Timing is everything. Will someone please tell Bob Kraft? Seems his blitz for support of his Patriots' Hartford stadium was nearly sacked when he failed to show for meetings with three of Connecticut's most influential newspaper execs. "Scheduling snafu," said aides, who rescheduled. . . . And while Kraft may be scratching his head about local sociopolitical gaffes that everyone but Kraft allows had a lot to do with an old-boy network he's not a part of, his nemesis, Bill Parcells, rubbed that in: on New York sports-radio station WFAN, Parcells noted he "always" counsels friends on heart surgery similar to what he had, as he did recently with Atlanta Falcons coach Dan Reeves and with buddy Mike Barnicle. . . . Lastly, speaking of bad timing and head-scratching, yes, that was Catherine Mattaliano Berke, wife of beleaguered gym owner Adam Berke, modeling and discussing her minks for a Herald feature last week on how "Fur's flying. . . ." The same Ms. Berke whose husband's luxe Boylston Street gym saw its memberships go from $1500 to $99 a year amid six lawsuits, bad press, an annus horribilis between Catherine and Adam, and a criminal complaint from an incident in which Adam allegedly belted his father, Carl, in an argument over Dad's investment in the gym. The Herald's photo caption of Catherine in her fur read "Nothing like the faux thing."