By DAVID BAUDER
The Associated Press

NEW YORK (Sept. 2) – Things had been going very well for Chris Rock, both with his career and at the luncheon that gave reporters a chance to ask about his HBO talk show. Some chicken, a little salmon, and questions that went down as smoothly as the sorbet.

Until the course of rocky road.

Two reporters asked Rock about posing in whiteface makeup for Vanity Fair magazine, pictures that raised eyebrows among some blacks. The uncomfortable discussion that followed was a metaphor for the tightrope stretching in front of this gifted comedian.

The often riotously funny ”Chris Rock Show” is in its third season, airing Fridays at 11:30 p.m. EDT. He’s about as hot as a comedian gets, gracing magazine covers, winning a Grammy and appearing with Mel Gibson and Danny Glover in ”Lethal Weapon 4.”

Even a few weeks ago, when a segment featuring Rock talking about President Clinton was deleted from ”Today” because of racy language, a spokeswoman took pains to emphasize that everyone at the morning show was a big fan.

How Rock’s black audience reacts to his acceptance by whites will go a long way toward determining whether his hot career is long-term or a fast burn.

Rock was made up as a clown for a summer issue of Vanity Fair. In the course of the photo shoot, he also posed before the costume was fully in place, in whiteface with a top hat and tuxedo. For many black readers, it was anunpleasant stereotype.

”Black folks have been trying for years to work against these types of stereotypes,” said Tracii McGregor, lifestyle editor of the rap-orientedmagazine The Source. ”When you see that, it’s like, what’s going on?”

McGregor, who is black, was one of the reporters who confronted Rock. The comedian replied with some mixed signals. First he implied his questioners were too sensitive because no one else had complained. Then he revealed that he had refused to appear on Vanity Fair’s cover just in whiteface – in other words, he too had thought about the issue.

But Rock reminded his audience that he’s just a comedian, and anybody who takes him seriously is ”just an idiot.”

”I am a clown,” he said. ”I have no agenda at all but to make the people laugh. … Do you want me to become serious? Do you want me to become Dick Gregory? Nobody likes that.”

Rock believes his career options are limited by an inability of blacks to laugh at other blacks playing the fool. Jim Carrey, a white, can do it ”Dumb and Dumber,” Rock told his questioners, but ”I’ll never have that opportunity because of people like you.”

”There’s a part of me that’s never going to get to come out because of people’s closed minds and grasping on for leadership where they shouldn’t.”

McGregor thinks Carrey has the advantage because too many entertainment executives can only see blacks in stereotypical roles. That’s why she considers it important to stay away from images like the whiteface photo. The argument petered out unresolved. Black writer Nelson George, a coordinating producer for Rock’s show who watched the exchange, saw it as a manifestation of mixed feelings of pride and resentment among many blacks when their heroes have mainstream success.

McGregor later agreed, saying that for her and other fans of the comedian, Rock’s success was like having a child taken away from them.

”He’s at a crossroads right now,” she said. ”I know in the back of his mind he’s got to be thinking about every step he takes and what it’s going to mean in the black community.”

McGregor wasn’t entirely satisfied with Rock’s explanation of the Vanity Fair picture, but she’s still a fan. She and her colleagues at The Source thought hard about criticizing Rock for the picture in an upcoming issue.

In the end, they decided to cut him some slack.

George, a close friend of the comedian, urges the same thing.

”The definition of Chris’ career will be the total picture of Chris’ career,” he said, ”not the picture in Vanity Fair.”