BOSTON, Nov. 9, 1988 (UPI) -- Gov. Michael Dukakis, his marathon bid for the presidency over, conceded defeat gracefully and promptly encouraged loyal supporters to venture into politics, calling it ''a noble profession.''
''Tonight my heart is filled with gratitude to everyone who made this extraordinary experience of ours possible,'' Dukakis told a gathering of Democratic loyalists at the end of Election Day.
His presidential campaign, he said, was not about himself and his running mate, Texas Sen. Lloyd Bentsen, but about all the young families they had struggled to represent.
''It's been about all of us and the values we share. That's what we've been fighting for and that is what we must continue to work for every day,'' he told the partisans at the World Trade Center, who erupted several times in wishful shouts of ''1992! '92! '92!''
After a congratulatory telephone call to Republican Vice President George Bush, during which Dukakis acknowledged his failure to win the White House, he said of his opponent, ''He will be our president and we will work with him.''
Even in graciousness, however, Dukakis would not put aside his vision for America, one he unsuccessfully sought to spread in the waning days of the campaign while trying to ignite the fires of what he called ''the world's oldest and greatest party.''
Citing his father's frequent admonition that ''much has been given to you and much is expected of you,'' Dukakis told the hundreds of young volunteers in the audience, and the thousands watching on television, that they too owe a debt to their country.
Despite a campaign that he berated in its final days for deception, distortion and cynicism, he urged that others not be disenchanted.
''Go into politics,'' he told the subdued gathering, many of the people with tears in their eyes. ''It is a noble profession.''
To those given the privilege of living in the United States, he said, ''You have a responsibility to give something back.''
Dukakis's campaign ended only after a determined last-ditch stand that brought him 8,500 miles through 11 states in the last two days. He also spent the final hours before polls closed urging supporters to get out and vote.
Dukakis reminded those at his concession speech, the final time he would enter a room to the blare of singer Neil Diamond's ''America,'' that he had predicted from the start it would be a ''marathon for the highest honor the American people can bestow on anyone.''
''I said there would be good days,'' he recalled, ''and we had a lot of good days, didn't we? And I said there would be not-so-good days. And we had a few of those too.''
Earlier Tuesday, Dukakis cast his own ballot with pride and steeled himself for the worst. He told a welcoming rally, ''Our spirits are bright.''
Still, just before returning to Boston, a subdued, clearly tired candidate said aboard his campaign plane that he could only wait and see if his message had gotten through. He said plans for the future would come later, as well as any reflections on how his campaign lost a once-commanding lead.
The resolute Dukakis of the last few days had given up predicting an underdog win, and he finally stopped pointing to the razor-thin 1960 victory of another son of Massachusetts, John F. Kennedy.
