The McCarthy Campaign

Sen. Eugene J. McCarthy (D-Minn.) is running for President of the United States. Although no formal announcement was forthcoming, the clear message of McCarthy's political junket to New England and the Midwest last weekend was that the Senator is a candidate. His public statements all but acknowledged his candidacy, and his private remarks left no question at all.

To those accustomed to Massachusetts politicians, the decision of this dovish David to challenge the presidential Goliath seems a strange one indeed. He lacks the jaunty grin of an Edward M. Kennedy; he does not pound the table with his first like a Francis X. Bellotti; and his throat does not issue the pious platitudes of a John A. Volpe.

McCarthy speaks slowly and thoughtfully. As he speaks, he glances occasionally at his hands which seem in a constant awkward motion. He projects a hint of uneasiness and a strong sense of modesty.

His route to the 1968 presidential primaries has been circuitous. He entered the national political spotlight with his "Do not forsake this man" nominating speech for Adlai E. Stevenson at the 1960 Democratic convention. Many Stevenson supporters remember that as the last truly grand moment in their hero's career.

Four years later he was the also-ran whom Johnson humiliated by dangling the vice-presidency before his nose until (literally) the last minute. Since then, the Senator from Minnesota has been largely eclipsed. His voting record has been impeccably liberal, but he has not been conspicuous. His opposition to the war policy has toughened but half a dozen other Senators have grabbed more headlines for their anti-war views.

When rumors began circulating last month that McCarthy might contest the President in the Massachusetts primary, anti-Johnson forces in the state were enthusiastic about the prospect. But the politically astute among these were concerned that McCarthy might prove to be a "cream-puff." They had had their fill of educational campaigns with the 1962 Senate bid of H. Stuart Hughes, who rallied a whopping 2.4 per cent of the Massachusetts electorate to his cause.

"He's not an energetic guy," one worried McCarthy supporter said, "and there are no fireballs in his office. It's shocking! He has no money, no organization, no plan. But he's talking about running for the presidency of the United States of America where there happen to be 200 million people. You don't even farm this way anymore."

The skeptics were particularly concerned about the New Hampshire primary. McCarthy had reportedly been influenced by John Kenneth Galbraith, Allard K. Lowenstein, and others who argued that a victory in the Granite State contest--the nation's first--would be a necessary first step in a successful campaign to unseat Johnson.

Opponents of this view argued that New Hampshire is the Mississippi of the North. Its only state-wide daily newspaper, the Manchester Union Leader, is controlled by ultra-conservative William Loeb. The state's small-city, subsistence-farmer mentality, they said, is more disposed toward conservatives like Styles Bridges and Louis Wyman than Gene McCarthy liberals.

"To win in New Hampshire," these people argued, "McCarthy would need Estes Kefauver's drive or Jack Kennedy's money. He has neither." Moreover, they said, a defeat in New Hampshire would likely sound the death knell for the rest of the campaign.

Thus, the very people McCarthy will have to attract if his campaign in Massachusetts is going to get off the ground voiced doubts about the Senator's political savvy and determination even before he arrived. McCarthy's three day stay here dispelled many of these doubts.

The Senator got off to a promising start at the rally preceeding the College Young Democrat's banquet at the Hotel Continental. The advance work by his undergraduate supporters attracted a large crowd. His speech was restrained, but the crowd liked him. McCarthy drew them in with the classical oratorical trick of shouting out a question and letting the audience roar back its reply.

The banquet itself, however, verged on disaster. The confusion of the College Young Democrats combined with the histrionics of at least one member of the Harvard delegation contributed to the trouble, but the Senator's lack-luster speech was mostly to blame. It was just too low-key for the occasion, and more applause preceeded it than followed it.

McCarthy began to shine in private meetings. On Monday he lunched with 60 prominent members of this state's peace movement at the Harvard Club of Boston. He began the meeting with a brief moral condemnation of the war. (Throughout the weekend, McCarthy impressed private audiences with the extreme toughness of his anti-war stand.)

Guest after guest rose at the luncheon to challenge the viability of this approach in a campaign. The war must be attacked, they asserted, on economic grounds. McCarthy must capitalize on general anti-Johnson feeling and on other issues besides the war. This line of questioning seemed to impress McCarthy. He acknowledged that a one-issue campaign would fail and agreed on the need to raise more issues. But even though McCarthy may attack the war on a variety of grounds, the moral issue will always be foremost in his mind.

The dedication with which McCarthy--a Roman Catholic--attacked the war may have been the most impressive aspect of his stay in Boston. The same people who spoke of him as a "cream-puff" before his arrival, are now talking about the depth of his conviction.

"We may have been hasty in our original assessment," one supporter said. "He's touching all the bases now, seeing how his candidacy will effect others. But he's not fronting for anyone. The Kennedy's will be taken into account, but they won't call the shots. I'm convinced that if Teddy stands in for Johnson in the Massachusetts primary, McCarthy will oppose him."

A long-time friend of the McCarthy family said the senator "has been frustrated for too long. He's a serious man and he's serious about this. He's not out for any educational candidacy."

The only meaningful justification for McCarthy's campaign is the longshot chance that he can deny Johnson the nomination. Other possibilities have been mentioned. A successful primary bid might make the Party's war platform more dovish. But President Johnson has ignored the platform before; he can certainly do so again. A large vote for McCarthy might influence Republicans to nominate a dove. But Republican nominating conventions have shown no great disposition for bringing political realities into their decisions in the past. There is no reason to think they will now.

Despite his talk about other senators entering primaries in their states, McCarthy knows no one else is going to launch this challenge. "In a way he relishes the opportunity," one friend said. "He thinks he owes it to himself--which is pretty damn important--and although it sounds corny, he owes it to his party and his country too."

The biggest obstacle remaining in McCarthy's campaign trail is his lack of organization. He acknowledges the need for money and an energetic staff, but offers no specifics.

McCarthy will enter the primaries in Massachusetts, Wisconsin and California. New Hampshire has not been ruled out, but the senator seems to be leaning toward the advice of those who argue against it. Unless Wayne Morse makes a move in Oregon, McCarthy will have no choice there. All candidates are entered there unless they sign a disclaimer.

The Boston weekend amply demonstrated the senator's determination. It remains to be seen whether he can put together a professional organization which will aggressively push his candidacy. It is, as Galbraith observes, a long chance. McCarthy now says privately he is going to try to go all the way. Given the right campaign, he could literally win. --PARKER DONHAM

But Sturges is an inconsistent imitator. He can't stand cutting time instead of drawing it out to fullness. He can't stand the beautiful, lingering-moment Western and occasionally reverts to antique ways. In the courtroom scene, for example, he dissolves from one witness to the next--stages a few artificial flare-ups between leaders and followers. And to pick up the pace still more, he produces some split-second moral dilemmas for W. Earp. Sturges should have been loyal either to Sergio Leone or to the TV economy of Gunsmoke. As it is, we get a mishmash of temper tantrums and long trail rides--and in the bargain, no hero.

I did laugh once. The prosecutor asks Ryan what position one of his thugs holds. Ryan answers, He's my scientific cattle breeder. Why does he wear a gun for his work? the prosecutor demands. Robards pipes up: "Maybe he has to force the cattle!" One yuk for 110 minutes of squirming.