More Fun in the Sun

TODAY IN MIAMI--where it has never snowed in October--more than 10,000 elderly voters will be piled into buses and driven to the Joseph Caleb Community Center. The center is the only polling place in Dade Country at which Democratic voters can cast their ballots for delegates who will attend a November 18 state political convention. Voters will also go to the poll in 66 other Florida countries when it's all said and done, they'll have picked 879 delegates.

This is one weird place to kick off a presidential campaign--or begin to bury an incumbent. St. Petersburg, Florida: From the state that brought us Anita Bryant and Bebe Rebozo, we now get, live and in color, the first hesitant steps on the protracted campaign trail. If rumors are to be trusted--and they seem about as reliable as anything these days--the results won't be known for several days. To the media, of course, that doesn't matter. On Sunday morning, they'll declare a winner.

But what will that person have won? Depending who you believe, the Florida caucuses mean everything or nothing. The prize clearly isn't worth the fight. Voters are only selecting half the delegates to a convention that will take a straw vote. And the straw vote means nothing. State officials will appoint the other half of the delegates that appear at the convention. It isn't until March 11, 1980, that Florida voters have their own primary--the one that really counts.

But the Sunshine State is basking in the attention it has received. You hear a lot of talk about "perceptions," the ability to separate the real world of electoral politics from the media's coverage. Given that the vote--in terms of national convention votes produced per dollar and minute expended--means nothing, the "significance" will depend on what the media says. In 1968 and 1972, they talked about the New Hampshire primary. In 1976, they talked about the Iowa caucus. And in 1980 (note that it is still 1979), newsmen are talking about Florida. To quote President Carter: "The importance of the Florida caucuses, I think, will be assigned by the press--and not by anything that I do."

For a man whose words belittle his role, however, President Carter's actions show that he is one scared cookie. Federal grants that have been on hold since Carter took office have somehow miraculously appeared in the Everglades. And high-level administration officials have come to Florida bearing those gifts. In the last week, the Carter forces, headed by Boston political consultant Jack Walsh, have launched a barrage of last-minute radio spots. A small fleet of buses has been hired to move the elderly from beach to ballot box. Carter, who won here by almost 70 per cent four years ago, is panicking--his organization has brought in political mercenaries to run the campaign and inflated the caucus war chest from $150,000 to $250,000.

The president, meanwhile, has been speaking out of both ends of his mouth. At first, when it looked like Sen. Edward M. Kennedy '54 (D-Mass) might show strongly, Carter was quiet. Then, when his advisors told him he would win the caucus the president declared the caucus a testing ground. At this week's press conference, Carter said:

This is one of the evidences of an increasingly early attention focused on a Presidential race. I don't think it's in the best interests of our country to start so early....And I think that since this is the first test between myself and other candidates who are also mounting an effort among their supporters, it will be significant.

Although he apparently disapproves of an early start, Carter has not hesitated to sanction the premature race.

THE KENNEDY FORCES, on the other hand, are acting like little children. At first, hard at work gathering enough support to even mount a race, they downplayed their chances. But when daddy started to indicate that he's ready to play, they couldn't control their own excitement.

Led by people who once supported Carter, the draft-Kennedy forces claimed their candidate would do the spanking. In one of the tackiest political displays on record, Dade Country Democratic chairman Mike Abrams, a onetime Carter supporter recently claimed Carter had left "too many broken promises." The blacks, the Jews and even the Hispanic vote will go against Carter, he predicted. "The Cubans think Carter is weak; they want a macho man, like Kennedy." In the glee of the moment it seems they forgot Florida is not Kennedy Country.

Quickly, the real leaders of the Kennedy campaign--the candidate, the Boston heavies--issued pre-caucus alibis. "I'll lose caucus, Ted says," screamed the Miami News a few days ago. "Its an exhibition game between a pro team and a pickup team with no captain, no quarterback and no jerseys," Kennedy's own chief adviser insisted, "It doesn't count in the league standings." Meanwhile, pro-Kennedy radio spots, kept flooding the Miami airwaves.

THE BEST GUESS RIGHT NOW is that Kennedy will nab between 35 and 40 per cent of the delegates selected. Even if Kennedy wins today Carter can still count on the vast majority of the officially picked representatives. But the slim Carter victory that most predict may still be "perceived" was a loss. The president's political ship is slowly sinking. Any less than a landslide in the once-secure South could spell media doom for the man from Georgia.