"If I Hadn't Been There . . ."

As he left Washington for a 3,500-mile swing through the industrial Midwest, Harry Truman's face was drawn. There was no concealing that the Vinson bobble (TIME, Oct. 18) had hurt. But Truman strategists hoped that their candidate still had a Sunday punch which would knock Tom Dewey off his high pedestal and force him to fight on Truman's level.

For the occasion they had called in a new team of ghostwriters--diffident, New Dealing Columnist Jay Franklin, and David Noyes, a wealthy former vice president of Lord & Thomas, who served as idea-man for WPB's Donald Nelson during the war.

Blackboard Scholars. The resulting speech was Truman's best since his acceptance speech in Philadelphia. For the first time, Truman plunged boldly into foreign policy. Said he: "Unity . . . cannot be produced by mealy-mouthed political speeches. Unity on great issues comes only when the voice of the people has been heard so clearly, so strongly, so unmistakably that no one . . . can doubt what the people mean . . . We did not have unity in foreign policy in 1940 . . . The Republican leaders were mainly isolationists . . .

"The unity we have achieved in foreign policy required leadership. It was achieved by men--Republicans as well as Democrats--who were willing to fight for principles before these principles became obvious to everyone. It was not achieved by the people who copied the answers down neatly after the teacher had written them; on the blackboard."

Biggest Ever. The old gibes were sharpened up. The Republicans, said Truman, "stand four-square for the American home--but not for housing. They believe in international trade--so much so that they crippled our reciprocal trade program. They say that TVA is wonderful--but we ought never to try it again." His audience, filling St. Paul's auditorium 15,000 strong, with another 6,000 outside, cheered, whistled, and applauded.

The St. Paul speech was the peak of a gratifying week. At every village, town and city, the crowds waited in startling numbers. Dayton turned out more than 50,000 strong. Akron's rubber workers and the Democratic machine put on the biggest political show in the city's history; more than 60,000 stood for two hours along the main streets, cheering wildly as Truman passed. In Springfield, Ill., the oldtime campaign flares were burning and streets were packed twelve deep. In Duluth, half the city (pop. 110,000) lined Superior Street for more than two miles, clambered on roofs, peered from office windows, crowded so close that the President's car brushed their clothes.

"Errand Boys." Having developed his criticism of the Both Congress into an effectively political issue, he used that issue for all it was worth. He called the Republicans in Congress "errand boys of Big Business," declared that lobbyists pulled the strings and the people got stung. He boasted: "I vetoed more bills than any President except Grover Cleveland--if I hadn't been there to protect you, you would be in a very great fix by this time."

At Madison, Wisconsin students stamped and yelled, and 30,000 lined the streets. At Milwaukee's Borchert ball park, he challenged Dewey's stand on atomic energy. In Phoenix, Dewey had said: "We know . . . the dead hand of government . . . too well to leave the possibilities of the atomic age solely in the hands of a government monopoly." Cried Truman: "It is clear from the comments of the Republican candidate that powerful selfish groups within the Republican party are determined to exploit the atom for private profit . . . Atomic energy cannot and must not be another Teapot Dome."

On the Coattails. Reversing the usual political order, Truman gave the impression of a man clinging tightly to the coattails of local Democratic candidates who might give him added political strength. In Indiana, he stuck close to ex-Governor Henry Schricker, the most popular Democrat in the state, now running for governor again. In Ohio, he plugged ex-Governor Frank Lausche. Illinois' Adlai Stevenson, who, in the opinion of political pundits, would easily win the governorship if it were not for the Truman handicap, called the President "a humble, sincere, and honest man--and a scrappy little guy." In Minnesota, Truman never let the voters forget that he was all for Minneapolis' Mayor Hubert Humphrey, who is expected to take Joe Ball's Senate seat for the Democrats.

Reporters estimated that, since he started campaigning on Labor Day, Harry Truman had been seen by some 3,800,000 people. In Miami this week, another 200,000 cheering citizens watched him drive through the streets on his way to address the American Legion convention. He had consistently outdrawn Dewey. In St. Paul, Dewey had an audience of only 7,000 to Truman's 21,000. In Hammond, Ind., 20,000 turned out to see Truman, only 1,500 for his rival.

As his train rolled toward Washington, Harry Truman declared himself highly pleased. He predicted that there would be a lot of surprised pollsters on Nov. 3. The crowds had been very heartening, even in G.O.P. strongholds. There had not been a dud in the lot, he said with satisfaction.

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