We Arizonians

"Nope," said the chairman of the Young Republicans Oregon delegation, "We're all filled up."

Since the Young Republicans were not requiring residence as a membership requirement in their state delegations, Oregon seemed the logical place for a Wayne Morse supporter. That delegation closed to me, I decided to try Arizona, a state in which I lived for a few years.

The delegation designated Arizona was huddled in a corner of the New Lecture Hall. Its chairman was a short, pudgy fellow with "I Like Ike" printed on his paper cap. He was holding a piece of paper with spaces for seven names. There were only four.

"Is Arizona filled up yet?"

The chairman glanced at me. "It all depends."

"On what?" I asked.

"Well,' he said, "all of us are voting for Eisenhower and . . ."

"Do you mean I have to vote for Eisenhower?"

"I didn't say that." He had guessed by my tone that I wasn't solidly in the lke camp. "But we're all voting for Eisenhower." He pointed to three lke buttons pinned on the lapels of three fellows. "If you vote differently, it will mean that I'll have to divide the state's votes. Fractions and things."

"That won't be difficult," I told him. "Arizona has fourteen votes and seven members. Each man gets two votes. No fractions."

He pondered over this. "But we don't have seven members yet."

"All the more reason," I bore down, "for letting me in the delegation."

Neither of us said anything. I decided to adopt a friendly tone.

"I'm not for Taft," I said.

His quick smile turned to a frown. "Who are you for?"

"Wayne Morse."

"Oh," he said. "Listen, these guys may come any minute. They told me they might come. Why don't you try the Maine delegation. They need another delegate."

"But you need three," I insisted. I was losing ground. I needed to compromise. "If it comes to a showdown between Taft and Eisenhower, I'll vote for Eisenhower."

"Morse can't win," he stated dogmatically.

"Maybe so, but I'd like to vote for him anyway."

The chairman scratched his head and turned to the three lke buttons. They were neutral.

"I'll put you on," he said finally. "But if the three guys come, you'll have to leave."

"That doesn't seem fair."

"They signed up before," he was adamant. "That's the only way I can let you on. And you've got to remember to vote for lke against Taft."

"If it's the only way . . ."

The chairman recorded my name on the Arizona list. He turned and stuck out his hand.

"My name is Les Frump. Welcome to the Arizona delegation. By the way, what state are you from?"

"New York," I admitted, "but I lived in Arizona for two years."

"Used to live in Arizona. That's great." He excused himself and walked up to the platform. He whispered something in the convention chairman's car, then came back to his delegation.

After a while it was announced that all delegation lists were closed; chairmen could admit no new delegates to their groups.

Frump glanced at his list and huddled with the three lke buttons. Then he turned to me.

"We only have five members," he said, "so we're dividing the votes. Four get three votes and one gets two votes. You get two votes."

"Hey," I objected, "That's not fair. We ought to draw lots."

"You're for Morse, aren't you?"

"That's right."

"Then you get two votes."

"What?" I was getting angry. "That is no criterion."

He changed his tone. "We were all signed up before you, so it's only fair. Don't you agree?"

"No," I said, "but you are running this."

"Well," he said, it is fair, and I'm sorry you don't think so."

The chairman of the convention rapped for silence. "I'm happy to announce," he said, "that every state delegation has at least one native delegate . . ."

I tapped Frump. "Say, who here is from Arizona?"

He smiled amiably. "You are." MICHAEL MACCOBY