Jerry and Rupert

THE 1980 PRESIDENTIAL race is heating up. That, at least, is the impression one gets from reading the recent work of some of America's better known political writers. Barely a year after Jimmy Carter's dramatic rise from obscurity to the presidency, the pundits are seriously questioning whether he'll be able to hold on to the job for another term; in the past two months several of them have attempted to examine and analyze the possibilities of other candidates, both within the Democratic Party and without.

The most popular subject of the pundits' presidential speculations is California Gov. Jerry Brown. Although a latecomer to the 1976 contest for the Democratic nomination, Brown dealt the Carter candidacy some stunning, if ultimately not mortal blows by beating Carter in the last six primaries in which they ran head to head. Esquire's national affairs editor Richard Reeves, who wrote one of the earliest profiles of Brown back in 1975 in which he characterized him as "the most interesting politician in the U.S..," has a long piece on Brown in last month's issue. Reeves argues that a Brown candidacy would constitute not only a potent political challenge to Carter but a cultural one as well; it would be, in his words, "California vs. the U.S.," with the West Coast, the source of many of the technological changes that have revolutionized American life, attempting to achieve political as well as cultural hegemony.

Reeve's somewhat facile analysis is by no means the first journalistic pondering of a possible Brown candidacy in recent months. That distinction belongs to veteran Washington Post reporter David Broder, whose piece "Jerry Brown, the Long Distance Runner," can be found in the January, 1978 issue of the Atlantic Monthly. Broder, like Reeves, takes pains to illuminate both the good and bad sides of Jerry Brown, but both men avoid making definitive judgments on Brown's desirability as a presidential contender.

Not all observers have remained so detached. New Republic contributing editor Roger Morris, in the third installment of that magazine's excellent "Pretenders to the Throne" series on presidential hopefuls in both parties (TNR. Jan. 28), attacks Brown for his vagueness on the issues and his lack of commitment to serious reform. Arguing that Brown's nonideological politics are "abstract, stylishly popular and perhaps personally gratifying, but ultimately barren regarding authentic change in government," Morris condemns Brown as a glib opportunist, if not an outright demagogue.

Morris is not alone in his strong and early criticism of the governor of Fruit and Nut Land. The New York Times columnist Anthony Lewis '48, abroad at home in Berkeley, California, a while back, took advantage of the opportunity to interview Brown, and he was not impressed. In a series of columns that were a far cry from his usual philosophical, reflective, issue-oriented pieces, Lewis described his interviews with Brown, whose undisciplined, if provocative thinking reminded him of the musings of a precocious graduate student. Lewis is too kind to graduate students.

What really disturbed Lewis, however, was Brown's penchant for diatribes against the University of California, which he's attempted to reform--without ever specifying what reforms he wants--by shaking up the university's Board of Regents. Ever-sensitive to potential threats against academic freedom, Lewis suggested that Brown's eclectic approach may conceal a strong, none-too-latent anti-intellectual streak.

The thought of a demagogic, anti-intellectual president sounds frightening, all right, but it wouldn't be anything new--just think of California's last contribution to the White House: adopted son Richard Nixon.

Australian Spotted Fever

To many observers, the worst aspect of Rupert Murdoch's head-first plunge into the New York media biz two years ago was the possible impact of his sex-and-violence, paper-hawking outlook on the Village Voice. So far it hasn't been too bad, although the past few weeks exhibit a discouraging trend. Certainly the damage hasn't been as complete as the devastation Murdoch brought to the New York Post and New York magazine. In the first year of the mad magnate's reign, the Voice went for hotter, sexier cover stories, but then came a period during which the big daddy of underground newspapers returned to its normal self. Recently, however, along with a new format that is less interesting than the old news on the cover, arts on the back page set-up, the Voice has run some highly suspect cover stories. Three weeks ago, for example, there was a story called "Asexuality: Nobody's Doing It," and last week there was a long piece about the Boston sex scandal, an interesting, if somewhat lurid story. Of course, the story happened three months ago--and in Boston, not New York. The Voice seems occasionally hell-bent on titillating its readers as much as possible, even at the expense of its solid and well-deserved reputation. Fortunately, some of the Voice columnists, including Nat Hentoff, have not given up the fight against creeping Murdochianism. Hentoff continues to turn out fine political pieces, mounting a virtual one-man campaign against repressive legislation like Senate Bill 1437, once Senate Bill 1, for example.