(as printed in the Philadelphia Daily News, May 31, 2007)

OLIVIA NUTTER, the 12- year-old spitting image of her dad, won the city's heart for his underdog mayoral candidacy.

Her vehicle: the TV ad showing her father driving her to school. Saying goodbye to Olivia, Michael Nutter tells his daughter to be good. Her response: the brightest of smiles.

Olivia's message was clear: Her father could be trusted. He took care of and protected her. And he'd do the same for us.

Which brings us to the current crop of presidential candidates. As with Michael Nutter, the candidate who can project that he will be the most trustworthy father figure will have a huge advantage in the race. (And, of course, this is Hillary Clinton's biggest challenge.)

Our first president, George Washington, is called the Father of Our Country. That's apt because there's a craving among voters when they're looking for a chief executive for a person who can project the idea that he's a strong father figure, thereby inspiring trust and confidence.

And the image is a vote-getter - even if it isn't real. It was brilliantly projected by Franklin Roosevelt, whose strength and style seemed to come from central casting. In the most troubled of times - depression and war - FDR lifted America above our challenges to believe "We have nothing to fear but fear itself."

And Roosevelt was able to succeed on this level because he held office at a time when press coverage did nothing to undercut his image of physical strength and family harmony.

Americans had no idea that their president couldn't walk, much less stand, without crutches. And not until years after his death did the public learn that his mistress - secretary Missy LeHand - lived right in the White House, and that he died during a rendezvous with the love of his life, Lucy Rutherford.

And that brings us to the biggest challenges for the men (and the woman) who would be president. One, for better or worse, the press no longer turns a blind eye to a candidate's personal life. And they have to project the strength Americans traditionally require of their presidents.

Case in point: Bill and Hillary Clinton.

In his quest for the presidency, a strong part of Bill Clinton's appeal was Hillary and their perceived joint personal and professional successes.

Since many think the unelected position of first lady is largely irrelevant, the description of a Clinton presidency as "two for one" was an advantage. Many couples, looking for a way to strengthen their own marriages to survive troubled times, were thrilled to believe a prominent couple had put their marital "pain" behind them.

This, of course, was not the case. Being exposed to the sex life of the nation's No. 1 father figure quickly went from titillating to sickening. But for Hillary, there was a silver lining: Humiliation softened her image. Her popularity soared, and with some hard work and a little luck, she was able to achieve the enormous power she holds today. What was bad for the father figure was good for his wife.

But now she has to try to be the father figure herself. She can appear to be sensitive, but not vulnerable; strong, but never strident; tough, yet feminine.

And she faces a problem the men don't: While the potential first hubby works tirelessly to elect his wife, can he also offer her fidelity? And if Hillary wins the nomination, will her opposition be able to depict her as a highly masculine woman, and frighten away mainstream support?

The father metaphor also helps explain what's happened to the current occupant of the White House. More and more, George W. Bush is seen not as a father but as a petulant and destructive child.

And Hillary has a great deal of company in the competition to replace him. Many find Obama to be an uplifting contrast to both Bush and Clinton, a magnetic husband and father who can use his talents to unite a divided and confused country.

There is also a clamoring for the fatherly reason and discipline of Al Gore, the conservative steadfastness of Mitch Romney, the charisma of Rudy Giuliani.

One thing is certain: Olivia's brilliant "father of Philly" ad should be studied by the presidential candidates. But Olivia is too much of an original to be cloned. She is a natural. (I think her dad is, too.) And she's ours.

Yo, Olivia! And Yo! to your dad!

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Contact SaraKay Smullens through her website.

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