WASHINGTON -- The sign at the top of the marble steps to the Lincoln Memorial says it all in three words:

"Quiet -- Respect, Please."

Here is where marking Sept. 11 has threatened to go over the top. Here, at the feet of Abraham Lincoln, Americans are openly discussing, perhaps for the first time during this long, often overwhelming buildup to tomorrow's ceremonies, the very thin line that lies between good taste and bad taste.

What has brought the debate to the foreground is an announcement that an instantly manufactured celebrity, as part of her promotional package, would be singing The Star Spangled Banner as part of a special commemoration to be held at the Lincoln Memorial.

A week ago, most North Americans had never even heard of Kelly Clarkson. A week ago tomorrow, however, the 20-year-old former waitress won the Fox Network's summer television hit, American Idol, with 23 million viewers tuning in to watch singers slightly above the level of a karaoke bar battle it out for instant fame and fortune.

As part of a wild promotional binge -- the usual talk shows, public appearances and magazine cover shoots -- it was learned that the organizers of the silly event had already arranged for the winner to sing the anthem at a special Sept. 11 memorial being staged here by a Washington charity.

Live! With Regis and Kelly one minute; Live with Abe the next.

"I've got nothing against her," says David Clemmer, a Vietnam veteran who still flies for the U.S. government, "but she don't know what life's about yet. There's just too much going on way too soon for me."
The growing backlash to such opportunism has caused young Ms. Clarkson to consider pulling out, but it has also caused a great many other Americans to reconsider the manner in which Sept. 11 is being marked.

"There needs to be a drawing back," says Tom Hipple of nearby Baltimore, Md., who works for a brokerage firm that lost 13 of its 3,700 employees at the World Trade Center last year.

"We're getting pretty close to extremes here."

"Something like that," his wife Dorothy adds, "just trivializes the whole thing."

There is, in fact, a subtext of commercialization in much of the Sept. 11 lead-up, from the wall-to-wall newspaper and television coverage to the small booths at the base of the Lincoln Memorial, which were allowed to set up to press the prisoners-of-war issue but are now doing brisk business in Sept. 11 posters, medallions and even dubious souvenirs.

They are sold out, for example, of the bright orange signs saying, "Special Issue USA Permit No. 91101 Terrorist Hunting Permit. No Bag Limit. Tagging Not Required."

As for the $15 poster describing Sept. 11, 2001, as the Darkest Day in American History, the vendor points out, "Seven dollars goes to the families of 9-11."

In the bookstores, the tables sag with Sept. 11 offerings. There are more than 150 titles, yet few people seem to be buying. Only 11 of the books can be found in USA Today's comprehensive list of the top 300 selling books in America.

Music has fared little better: one monster hit -- Alan Jackson's Where Were You (When the World Stopped Turning) -- and at least two dozen duds, including works by Paul McCartney, Dolly Parton and Neil Young.

The selling of tragedy is nothing new. Princess Diana set the modern standard, of course, but for years there have been tours of Pearl Harbor and even Second World War death camps. The biggest tourism draw in Dallas is Dealey Plaza, where John F. Kennedy was assassinated in 1963.

Still, there is a growing sense that for Sept. 11, the top is at times being breached. There are site tours in Shanksville, Pa., where Flight 93 went down, and at ground zero in New York, victims' families have been seeking a ban on the vendors who come to sell everything from photographs of fleeing workers to Osama bin Laden toilet paper.

"There's been too much," Mr. Hipple says. He and his wife had stopped at the Corcoran Gallery, where a special showing of Sept. 11 photographs was on display, including a picture of an enterprising sign saying: "Fight Terrorism, Eat Ice Cream."

"Anything that's done should be about the sacredness of life," Mr. Hipple says.

Mr. Clemmer, the Vietnam veteran, agrees.

He thinks those who will organize future Sept. 11 events, and particularly those seeking a permanent memorial, will study the simplicity of the Vietnam Memorial: black marble, the names, nothing else. Nothing else required.

"It's all about dignity and respect," Mr. Clemmer says. "Dignity and respect."
Roy MacGregor is working his way from the heartland of America to Shanksville, Pa., where United Airlines Flight 93 crashed last Sept. 11. His journey began in Oklahoma City and is taking him through Kansas, Missouri, Arkansas and Tennessee as he heads east for the
anniversary.
Tomorrow: Gettysburg, Pa.