Obama and Romney's Friendly Fire It was death by a thousand smiles: the first presidential debate, on Wednesday night, was perhaps the most genial exchange of enmity in memory. President Obama and Mitt Romney did not just spar over tax policy and deficit reduction, they fought to see who could keep a look of amused, there-you-go-again contempt for the longest number of minutes. The crowd watching the first presidential debate at Crimson and Gold bar at the University of Denver. More than 50 million people were expected to tune in. Wary of split screens on CNN and other networks, Mr. Romney managed, despite a dry throat and some rapid blinking, to keep a choirboy smile pasted on his face while Mr. Obama spoke; Mr. Obama was quicker to drop his bonhomie and adopt the look of a long-suffering headmaster enduring the excuses of a bright student he is going to expel. Theirs was a glaringly public confrontation that looked oddly intimate and personal. And that may help explain why tens of million of people tune in - there is nothing else like it on television. It's not a gladiator fight, or a boxing match or the Super Bowl; it's not a quiz show, a singing competition, a beauty pageant or a finale of "Survivor." If anything, these confrontations look more like a dispute in couples therapy: neither partner can really win, but either one could get rattled and blurt out something unforgivable. That scale-tipping moment didn't happen. After an opening handshake that included a fake-friendly double arm grab, Mr. Obama and Mr. Romney were politely, unfailingly hostile, both men as attentive to body language and demeanor as to substance. There were not many personal jabs, but Mr. Romney did manage to work in a line that sounded rehearsed: "Mr. President, you're entitled, as the president, to your own airplane and to your own house, but not to your own facts - (laughter) - all right?" He sounded more spontaneous when he reacted to Mr. Obama's opening mention that the debate coincided with his 20th wedding anniversary. Mr. Romney joked that it was surely the most romantic place Mr. Obama could imagine, "here with ME." There were moments when both men inadvertently slipped into the quirks they were supposed to suppress. Mr. Obama, known for acting a little superior and blasé about his opponents, soon began scribbling notes while his rival spoke, looking down and avoiding eye contact, even with the camera. At times he winced as if his opponent were causing him indigestion, but he didn't return fire, and never mentioned "47 percent," let alone Mr. Romney's houses and planes. Mr. Romney had an easier time acting like he was pleased to bring a Bain boardroom intensity to the discussion; Mr. Obama couldn't stop himself from looking annoyed not to have the podium to himself, like lecturers do. Mr. Romney still seems to believe in the rules of the country club. In one of the Republican primary debates, he famously turned to the moderator for help when he could not stop a rival from interrupting. "Anderson, Anderson." On Wednesday he again beseeched the moderator, Jim Lehrer of PBS, for an intervention. Mr. Obama was less deferential; when Mr. Lehrer tried to speed him up, Mr. Obama said, "I had five seconds before you interrupted me," and went on and on. Over all, it was civil, interesting and not at all exciting. It certainly did not look like a historic encounter. Yet the first black president shared a stage with the first Mormon presidential nominee in a television event disseminated on almost every imaginable digital avenue - even Hulu caught debate fever. It looked less like a historic first than a rerun, an archival clip. Mostly, the subdued, old-school tone was helped along by Mr. Lehrer, who was moderating his 12th presidential debate. He presided over this one with courtesy, fairness and absolutely no flair for enlivening the discussion. Mr. Romney said that despite his personal fondness for Big Bird and Mr. Lehrer, he would reduce government spending by cutting financing for PBS. Mr. Lehrer may have helped make his point.