Said the Peanut to the King

JIMMY CARTER roared through eastern Massachusetts Saturday to tell people they should vote for Democratic gubernatorial candidate Ed King because it is easier for the president to work with a Democratic team. The boy from Atlanta, (where, as one staunch New Englander pointed out, all they have is the Braves) might have been more persuasive in his call for party unity if he had realized that the Red Sox play in the American League and not the National League, as he said before a bewildered crowd of 25,000 in Lynn.

As it was though, Ed King looked pretty nervous. His eyes darted around the platform, in front of Lynn City Hall all decorated with American flags and pots of yellow mums, like he was watching for someone to blind-side him from the left. And his mouth, drawn up tight, must have had a bad taste in it. Even the president of the United States couldn't stop the boos and hisses which greeted King's introduction.

But worse than that, the big and powerful Sen. Edward M. Kennedy '54 (D-Mass.) wouldn't shake hands with King, and after his ballyhooing pep rally cheer simply lumped King with the rest of the statewide candidates after singling out senatorial candidate Paul Tsongas for praise, King became noticeably more uncomfortable. The next day, of course, his aides would explain that King and Kennedy have never been close political allies. As for the boos, well, "They probably came from the Tsongas people, or somebody's staffers," Barry Kaplovitz, issues aide to King, quickly adds. "If there were a few boos in Lynn Square, it's nothing we are going to worry about," Kaplovitz says. There were more than "a few."

A show for unity. Jimmy cuddled Ashley Tsongas, daughter of Rep. Paul E. Tsongas (D-Mass.), soft spoken candidate for the senate. Jimmy smiled from ear to ear: that big, wide Jimmy smile, and Ashley spent the rest of the time walking around the platform, endearing herself and her father to the crowd of Democratic notables. Tsongas was clearly the man of the day, King a hesitant afterthought. And perhaps somebody told Carter he should visit Lynn to endorse the Democratic ticket partly as a favor to U.S. House Speaker Thomas P. O'Neill Jr. (D-Mass.), whose son Lt. Gov. Thomas P. O'Neill III, rests as King's hesitant running mate, and partly for Tsongas.

EDWARD KING is a man who believes he represents the people and while his lead may be slipping a little, he still believes he will be the next governor of Massachusetts. Saturday spelled a sort of victory for him--the president came to show support for him, claiming there is enough room in the Democratic party to accommodate arch conservative types like King. In the same way that he didn't know which league the Sox play baseball in, perhaps Carter doesn't know King's league either. Maybe he does't know that when King ran Massport, he abused a credit-card entertainment budget and that he makes questionable promises to reduce property taxes by $500 million, or that when King talks about reviewing welfare payments, he talks pejoratively of letting people "even have their band-aids" if they want them.

But Jimmy wasn't talking about Massachusetts issues on Saturday, and neither were the people watching him. They came to the rally to see the president of the United States, many because they had never seen a president before, and many because a presidential visit is always an honor. As the plane touched down at Hanscom field early in the afternoon, a cry went up from the small crowd waiting patiently. "Oooh--Isn't it beautiful?" they said. Air Force One taxied around the tarmac, and stopped just in front of the portable steps that motored out to let him disembark. The crowd waited, and sure enough Jimmy soon appeared at the top of the stairs, just like every picture you've ever seen, and waved a little. He descended and was lost momentarily in the crowd of officials there to greet him. But the smile was soon seen again, moving through the crowd. He kissed women and told them they were beautiful and yelled "Hi, everybody," as he moved down the line, the crowd moved with him.

Edward J. Thompson and his wife Kaye stood at the front of the VIP section--VIPs because Carter stayed at their house in Clinton, Mass. 18 months ago--VIPs who needed no introduction. "Are you the...," a reporter asks. "Yes, yes," they replied, by now old hands at dealing with the press. They say Carter is "fantastic," and add he can stay at their home Saturday night too, if he wants. "He's still the man who ran for office. He's still for us, the people--a good sincere, honest man," Mrs. Thompson adds.

ROUTE 128 from Hanscom Field to the Lynn exit was never so easy to drive on. No cars, except for the motorcade--only people lined up on the side waving at the black limousine, with the flags streaming alongside the strong hood. "Welcome Mr. President," was spelled out on the Showcase Cinema billboard, and players on the golf course took time out from their putting to see the sight. State police officers stood at every exit, and people leaned on their cars, looking not the least bit inconvenienced by their wait to get back on the road.

The biggest crowds of all stood around the signs just off the exit, which said "Welcome to Lynn"--some homemade, others more official. Lynn, which once boasted the largest shoe manufacturing industry of the nation, hadn't been visited by a president since Calvin Coolidge came to campaign for a ticket. Those who couldn't make it to the rally stood on their front lawns under posters which read "Welcome Mr. Carter", one of them signed by every member of the household in different colors. Three little boys leaned over the ropes around City Hall as the press bus unloaded and eagerly queried, "Is he here? Is he coming?"

Anthony Marino, mayor of Lynn, told the president how everyone was feeling. "Mr. President, Welcome to Lynn, we love you very, very much. And then to the crowds, "Well, how do you like it?" They liked it--a lot--even if he was endorsing a Massachusetts Meldrim Thompson for governor. Even if he didn't know anything about the Red Sox.