New Chairman?

Ranged around their long, six-sided White House table, the President of the U.S. and his Cabinet listened attentively as the slender, curly-haired visitor got up to speak. The time: midsummer 1958. The man: Republican National Chairman Meade Alcorn. Gist of his remarks: a pessimistic forecast of November's congressional elections unless something was done.

Alcorn knew what to do. Said he: "Mr. President, I strongly suggest you make a speech on Labor Day in which you recall the Congress and promise to keep the Congress in session until adequate labor-reform legislation is passed. The country wants it; the rank and file of labor wants it. It will help the country. And it certainly will help our party."

Pretty Political? After a general gasp came a lively babble. Said Commerce Secretary Sinclair Weeks: "Swell idea. It's a knockout." Chimed Agriculture's Ezra Taft Benson: "I'm no politician. But I think it's a great idea." Finally the President got a word in. "By golly, I like that idea. But it's pretty political, isn't it, Meade?" Replied Alcorn: "And how! Mr. President. But it's good politics, and will be good for the country."

Eventually Ike left final judgment up to Labor Secretary James P. Mitchell; Mitchell sharply dissented, and Alcorn's proposal died (and in the November Democratic landslide many a Republican chance died because voters could not figure out where the national G.O.P. stood on labor reform).

But the incident--and the tight-lipped manner of Alcorn in his defeat--were indicative of the way that quiet, resourceful Meade Alcorn operated (TIME, Jan. 19) as the G.O.P.'s top political boss. Last week the President grudgingly assented when Connecticut's Alcorn, after 26 turbulent months, offered his resignation (as of April 10) in order to return to his Hartford law firm (Alcorn, Bakewell & Smith) for urgent personal reasons.

Made-Up Mind? The President and party leaders considered two dozen possibles ranging from Interior Secretary Fred Seaton to Ohio's Chairman Ray Bliss to fireballing Chicago Camera Maker Charles H. Percy. Ultimate choice: Thruston (rhymes with boostin') Ballard Morton, 51, elected Kentucky's junior Senator in 1956. Husky (6 ft. 2 in., 185 lbs.) Thruston Morton, seventh-generation Kentuckian, is no politician-come-lately. He served three House terms (entered as a freshman with Congressman Richard Nixon). In 1952 he was the lone Eisenhower supporter in Kentucky's 20-man Taft-minded convention delegation. Later he became Assistant Secretary of State for Congressional Relations, got to know Presidential Assistant Nelson Rockefeller.

Before he agreed to try for the chairmanship at this week's national committee meeting, Morton sounded out Rockefeller and Nixon. Nixon was enthusiastic. Rockefeller also approved, although Morton, who could swing considerable influence one way or the other in the 1960 convention, stated publicly last January: "Some people like Nelson Rockefeller. But I've been for Nixon for a long time, and nothing has happened to make me change my mind."

The only opposition to Morton's nomination came from the Republican Old Guard. Pennsylvania Congressman Richard Simpson, who blasted Alcorn, Eisenhower and Modern Republicanism at a national committee meeting last January in Des Moines (TIME, Feb. 2), implied that Morton was too modern and the Old Guard did not want him. But Dwight Eisenhower did. And in that case, only an outright and unlikely revolt could keep Morton out of the job.

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