U2 lead singer Bono, second from left, meets reporters on Capitol Hill Wednesday,
                         June 13, 2001, to discuss the global AIDS crisis. Joining him, from left are, Sen.
                         Rick Santorum, R-Pa., Sen. B'Orrin Hatch, R-Utah and Sen. Jesse Helms, R-N.C.
 

                  By night, he's a long-haired, pierced-eared, combat boot-wearing superstar who spends two
                  deafening hours whipping 20,000 screaming fans into a rock 'n' roll frenzy.

                  By day, he still has the long hair, pierced ears and combat boots. But the fans he often sees are
                  Washington powerbrokers who sport power ties or silk scarves and couldn't care less about listening
                  to the lead singer of U2 perform the band's new single, Elevation.

                  Instead, Sen. Jesse Helms, R-N.C., World Bank President James Wolfensohn and Treasury
                  Secretary Paul O'Neill want to hear what Bono has to say about helping the world's poorest nations
                  climb out from under their crushing debts.

                  That's right. Bono, 41, front man for one of the most successful bands of the past 20 years. It's hard
                  to imagine, but Bono is a serious player on Third World debt, one of those vital but arcane issues
                  that can numb even professional policy wonks.

                  That the Irish rocker has turned into a behind-the-scenes lobbyist respected by Republicans and
                  Democrats alike is one of the more bizarre tales in Washington politics.

                  Bono (BAWN-oh) deals with politicians ranging from liberal Democratic Sen. Barbara Boxer of
                  California to the conservative Helms, who planned to drop in on a U2 concert in Washington this
                  week. Strange as it might seem, Bono and Helms have bonded.

                  Wednesday, the senator hosted a lunch for Bono that nine other senators attended. As the group
                  gathered, Bono told reporters he was ''humbled'' to be invited and felt like an outsider in the ornate
                  Capitol. Said Helms: ''You'll never be an outsider. You'll always be a friend here.''

                  No one is more bemused by the odd combination of his daytime crusade and nighttime gig than
                  Bono. ''I would accept the absurdity of having to listen to a rock star sounding off on economic
                  matters,'' he says during an interview at a hotel in Washington. ''I think I'm looked at as an exotic
                  creature at first when I walk into an office.''

                  But that hasn't deterred him from squeezing in several such meetings this week while U2 is in the
                  nation's capital.

                  And he sees an important link between the worlds of rock and politics. ''Unless these types of issues
                  become pop, they don't become political,'' Bono says. ''As a performer, I understand it takes a
                  picture of me with the Pope or a president to get debt cancellation onto the front pages. Otherwise
                  it's just too obscure a melody line.''

                  Theft by dictators

                  Debt-relief advocates say their cause comes down to two moral questions. First, is it right to ask 41
                  of the world's poorest nations to pay back nearly $200 billion in debt they accumulated over the past
                  30 to 40 years if much of the money was stolen by long-gone dictators propped up by the West
                  during the Cold War? Second, is it fair to ask for repayment if just the burden of paying the interest
                  costs cripples the nations' ability to improve their standards of living?

                  Most of the money is owed to the International Monetary Fund and the World Bank, global lending
                  organizations financed mostly by taxpayer money from the United States and other wealthier
                  nations. Some skeptics wonder whether forgiving the debts is wise. At the World Economic Forum's
                  annual meeting in Davos, Switzerland, this winter, record producer Brian Eno said he has ''often
                  asked my friend Bono'' about what happens if the debts are forgiven, countries aren't held
                  responsible, more money is lent and they end up back in debt.

                  Bono and other activists respond that strict conditions can keep that from happening. Under a
                  program begun in 1996, the IMF and World Bank are granting some debt relief to countries that
                  adopt economic and social reforms. Those lenders have agreed to relieve 22 nations of debts totaling
                  $34 billion. But there are strings attached. International monitors must be allowed to watch whether
                  the savings go toward making people's lives better or into corrupt leaders' bank accounts. (Countries
                  with repressive governments, such as Sudan, aren't eligible for relief.)

                  To those pushing the cause, much more needs to be done, and it needs to be done quickly.

                  ''In the poorest countries of the world, 40,000 people die each night from starvation or preventable
                  diseases,'' says Rep. Spencer Bachus, R-Ala. But in Africa alone, those nations spend about $200
                  million a week on just the interest on their debts, he says. The HIV/AIDS crisis there makes debt
                  relief especially urgent, he says, to free up money for prevention and treatment programs.

                  Bachus was a driving force behind legislation last year to forgive $435 million in debt owed the U.S.
                  government. Bachus and Bono met during that legislative effort, and the singer impressed the
                  lawmaker ''because he knew the issues backward and forward,'' Bachus says.

                  After Live Aid

                  Bono started to question the morality of asking poor nations to repay the loans after the 1985 Live
                  Aid concert, which raised more than $200 million for food aid to Africa. U2, which had mixed
                  politics with music since Bono and four friends formed the band as Dublin teenagers in October
                  1976, was one of the show's stars. Shortly after, Bono and his wife, Ali, visited Ethiopia. They saw
                  how quickly even $200 million in aid was depleted. They heard about the interest payments.

                  ''We promised that we would never forget what we had been through,'' he said in a recent speech.
                  ''But of course, we did.''

                  Then a few years ago he heard about a debt-relief movement. A group of social activists was
                  inspired by the Bible's Book of Leviticus that proclaims a year of ''jubilee'' and calls for redemption
                  of the poor's possessions. So they created an organization called Jubilee 2000 (now called Drop the
                  Debt) to push their cause. Bono says he was attracted ''to this Biblical notion of jubilee -- the idea
                  that you have the right to begin again.''

                  He became a student of the debt-relief issue by learning from experts such as Harvard economist
                  Jeffrey Sachs. He used his celebrity to publicize the cause, most notably when he met with Pope
                  John Paul II in 1999, and the pontiff, who supports the movement, donned the singer's sunglasses. A
                  photo of that playful moment ran in newspapers around the world.

                  As Bono has gotten more involved and better informed, he has gained more credibility as a sincere
                  advocate of debt relief by promoting his campaign in less-publicized ways. Often, he visits
                  Washington or other capitals unannounced and with no entourage.

                  Two weeks ago, he left the stage in Buffalo late at night for a flight to Washington. The next
                  morning, he met with White House Deputy Chief of Staff Josh Bolten. In the afternoon, he saw top
                  aides at the Treasury Department. (President Bush supports the idea of further debt relief but has
                  yet to say whether he will push the World Bank and IMF to move faster). Bono's goal that day: Get
                  to know the new administration ''and let them know I'm not aligned'' with either party, he says. Late
                  that day, he was on a plane to Albany, N.Y., for a concert the next evening.

                  Bono ''is exceptional, not only in his knowledge and his commitment but in his desire to work in a
                  strategic and practical way,'' says Gene Sperling, a top economic adviser in the Clinton White
                  House. Bono often lobbied Sperling.

                  ''Do I have credibility?'' Bono asks with a smile during the interview. His voice is recovering from
                  the previous night's show. He speaks with a rasp. Dressed in a dark green jacket and pants and a
                  white T-shirt, he's clearly tired.

                  ''It's much more glamorous to be on the barricades with your handkerchief over your nose than it is
                  to have a bowler and a briefcase and go to work,'' he says. ''But . . . that's the way to get the work
                  done. It's uncool. It's incredibly unhip. But it's the way to get it done.''

                  That attitude, and the religious tone of the campaign, have helped him win fans such as Helms. Bono
                  first met the senator in September when he visited Helms' office. Afterward, the senator told the
                  Raleigh (N.C.) News & Observer that Bono ''has depth I didn't expect. He is led by the Lord to do
                  something.''

                  Bono's courting of politicians ''is tricky. If you get too close to the centers of power, you might not
                  be able to see the issues as clearly,'' says Rajiv Rawat, 26, of Brookline, Mass.

                  A local organizer for the Jubilee USA Network -- the leading U.S. activist organization on the issue
                  -- Rawat and other Jubilee USA volunteers worked at tables set up at U2's four Boston concerts
                  last week. They spent several hours talking with U2 fans about the issue and passing out information
                  as people arrived for the show.

                  Jubilee has staffed such tables at all U2's concerts this year and expects to collect about 10,000
                  postcards signed by U2 concertgoers to send to Bush.

                  The singer's efforts mostly win strong support from fans and activists. ''He's using his celebrity to
                  drive an important issue. I don't mind paying a lot of money to see his shows,'' says Laura Barnes,
                  26, of North Reading, Mass.

                  As for his bandmates (guitarist The Edge, bassist Adam Clayton and drummer Larry Mullen ), Bono
                  says, ''I represent them, too. They're just much more suspicious of politicians than I am. But I've had
                  the advantage of seeing how hard some of (the politicians) work, for a lot less money than I do.''

                  Besides, he says, ''whilst people are letting me put my foot in their door, I should keep it there. I'd
                  like to get back to my 'day job' full-time. I'm a much better singer than I am a lobbyist. But I can't
                  yet.''

                  Raucous concerts, subtle lyrics

                  The 50 sold-out concerts in U2's 34-city Elevation tour of North America, which began in March
                  and ends June 22 in East Rutherford, N.J., are raucous, joyous affairs.

                  The band plays a succession of its hits, including One, Walk On, Pride (In the Name of Love) and
                  It's a Beautiful Day. A heart-shaped runway lets Bono run, dance, jump and crawl as fans
                  surround him. He can touch them, and often does.

                  Every fan seems to know all the lyrics, most written by Bono. He jokes that he can't write lyrics
                  about debt relief because ''statistics don't rhyme.'' Yet, he includes a subtle message about his
                  crusade in his songs.

                  In It's a Beautiful Day, he sings of finding a friend ''you can lend a hand in return for grace.'' In
                  Elevation, he adds cries of ''Jubilation!'' in concert. And then there is Grace, the last song of U2's
                  latest CD, All That You Can't Leave Behind:

                  Grace, she takes the blame

                  She covers the shame

                  Removes the stain

                  . . . Grace makes beauty out of ugly things

                  ''It's about the right to begin again,'' Bono says. ''The right to be free of your past. That's grace. So,
                  yes, you can write lyrics about debt relief.''Cover storyCover story