Time for Arithmetic

" 'Tis a strange campaign," wrote Chicago Daily News Editor-Publisher John Knight last week. "Ike and his team will stick to the high road, while Stevenson . . . will campaign on a lower level than he did four years ago. It seems to me that the high-level pitch . . . is mainly a holding operation, which may actually lose much of the support Ike received in 1952 from independent voters and disgruntled Democrats. The Republicans, with a first-term record of 'peace and prosperity,' have a lot to sell. But they must sell it hard from now to November."

From Fairhope, Ala. to Freedom, Wyo., in the year 1956, the pulse of the nation was quickening to the fresh rhythms of the galloping campaign. Supporters of both parties were eager to be sold, and so were the independents. In many big cities, where voter registration was completed or still continuing, the totals foretold a bigger turnout in November than ever before--and therein lay a Republican sore point. For although figures were significantly higher for both Republicans and Democrats, the Democratic Party strength was increasing in many critical areas faster than the Republican. Item: in nominally Republican Philadelphia registration ended with 100,240 new Democratic voters, only 57,065 new Republicans; the city's G.O.P. registration lead was down from 297,424 in 1952 to 24,557.

Doorbells & Brass Tacks. First to acknowledge the threat was G.O.P. Committee Chairman Len Hall. Said he: "Let us not underestimate the opposing party. They're strong and tough, and despite what they claim, they're well financed. Every single vote will count in this next election. Any Republican who feels this election is in the bag--who fails to register and vote--is taking a great risk." The pundits were calling the same signals. Hard-shell Conservative Columnist David Lawrence urged Ike to "get down to brass tacks and explain the issues."

Wrote doorbell-ringing Pollster Samuel Lubell for his newspaper clients this week: "In eight Minnesota and Iowa counties, a third of the farmers I talked with, who favored Eisenhower in 1952, were changing, while others were still undecided. This represents a heavy enough swing for Adlai Stevenson to win both states [21 electoral votes] . . . The net picture is of a far more closely fought election than in 1952--with Eisenhower still holding the edge. It is an edge, though, which could be wiped out . . . It can perhaps be summed up as a struggle of the cities versus the farms."

Thus it was no accident that the campaign focused hard and sharp last week in the farm belt. Both presidential candidates put their hands to the plow in Iowa (see below). Both vice-presidential candidates found time to stop off in the farm areas. Dick Nixon sidestepped agricultural technicalities to ask for faith in Eisenhower; Estes Kefauver glided along like an imperturbable praying mantis, just showing his sympathy.

Question Marks & Symbols. Warmed by the hopeful signs, the Democrats began to work at electoral-vote arithmetic with feverish enthusiasm. Starting with the last election returns--which gave Ike 442 electoral votes to Stevenson's 89--the Democrats looked hopefully at states where Ike's margin lay within 6% (see map), figured expansively that a shift in all these was possible and would harvest 343 electoral votes--a margin for error of 77 over the needed 266. If this method conjured up doubts, there was another kind of arithmetic, based on the electoral votes of all the states that went heavily for Ike in 1952 but now have active Democratic governors, e.g., Edmund Muskie's Maine, Bob Meyner's New Jersey, Ernest McFarland's Arizona, and even (they told themselves) Frank Lausche's Ohio. And beyond all that lay the hopes of cracking the farm belt--the "Solid North" of the G.O.P.

But many an arithmetical doodler snapped his pencil point with the news that President Eisenhower, on his first campaign swing through the country, had drawn crowds in Iowa--and particularly in Des Moines--that had never been equaled either in numbers or enthusiasm. Obviously the pundits had to find room for a special Eisenhower symbol. The 1956 election was not just an equation involving Republicans and Democrats. It was more a case of Ike on one side and all the Democrats on the other--with Ike, a very well-known quantity, ready to campaign to the nth power.

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