ON THE FACE OF IT, representative Tom Coburn and New York assemblywoman Nettie Mayersohn are mirror opposites: He's a staunch Republican, she's a fiery Democrat; he's pro-life, she's pro-choice; he's socially conservative, she's a booster of gay rights; he's a fundamentalist Christian, she's Jewish; he's Oklahoma, she's pure Queens. But across this yawning political and cultural divide, the two have embraced as allies to promote their common passion -- saving new born babies from AIDS.

A committed feminist who received the New York State National Organization for Women Legislator of the Year Award in 1989, Mayersohn saw praise from the liberal establishment turn to vituperation when she introduced legislation in 1994 requiring HIV testing of all New York newborns and disclosure of the results to mothers of babies who tested positive for the HIV antibody.

It's not as if newborns weren't already being tested. They were -- for statistical purposes and to track the course of the epidemic, which revealed that about 1,800 New York State babies were born HIV-positive every year. Between 70 percent and 80 percent of these babies were not actually infected but only tested positive for the antibody. Assuming proper medical treatment and no further exposure to the HIV virus -- say, by nursing at their mother's breasts -- most of these babies would not become ill. The other 20 percent to 30 percent actually had AIDS, but quick treatment could extend both the quality and duration of their lives. Unfortunately, strict

Logic, compassion, and a decent regard for the value of these infants' lives (not to mention the lives of the mothers) would seem to dictate public health policies along the lines that Mayersohn proposed. Infected infants should be identified as soon as possible. At that point, they can be treated either to prevent HIV infection or ward off the onset of AIDS. Perhaps more important, once mothers are advised of their infants' HIV status, they can avoid exposing their children to their own body fluids. Unfortunately, logic and true compassion have little to do with much of AIDS public policy.

The fight over Mayersohn's "Baby AIDS" bill was a real donnybrook. Movement feminists, gay activists, ACLU types, some physicians, and legislative colleagues unleashed a near-hysterical hue and cry. Mayersohn became a pariah, turned on angrily by former political allies and friends. "After I introduced the legislation, all hell broke loose," Mayersohn recalls. "On World AIDS Day, I had about 50 activists at my apartment building demonstrating at mid-night, going on the intercom demanding to meet. The group's name was Fed Up Queers and they thought that kind of intimidation would be effective in deterring me from doing what I thought was right. They were wrong."

Even more astounding to Mayersohn was the illogic of her opponents' arguments and their skewed priorities: "I was visited by the Gay Men's Health Crisis and they asked me to withdraw the legislation. I said to them, 'Your community has been so devastated by the disease; so many young lives have been lost. Why wouldn't you support this?' And they said, 'Privacy is our main concern.'"