The African Question

The edgy jockeying going on in both presidential camps could be seen in all its angry and ridiculous aspects last week in a row over a remote question: Who would have the privilege of paying for $100,000 worth of plane fares to the U.S. for 250 African students? What made the question politically explosive was that the two rival contenders for the privilege were Richard M. Nixon (through the U.S. State Department) and John F. Kennedy (through his family's charitable foundation).

A Matter of Policy. After months of turndowns, small hellos and evasions, the sponsors of the student airlift found themselves suddenly in the chips and in the news. All of the 250 students come from Kenya and other British areas in East Africa, and had been largely rounded up by Kenya Labor Leader Tom Mboya. A U.S. organization called the African American Students Foundation lined up scholarships for them at U.S. universities and colleges. The big need was transportation money. In December and again in January, the foundation asked the State Department for a $100,000 grant. The answer was a firm no from Career Diplomat Joseph C. Satterthwaite, chief of the State Department's African Desk. His reason was impeccable: the State Department freely helps students from independent new nations, but in colonial or trust territories, the department deals directly with the governing power: in short, State tries not to butt in too much in the British territory. A New York Negro named Frank Montero, president of the student foundation, wrote to Nixon, recalling his interest in Africa and asking for his help. Nixon turned Montero's request over to Satterthwaite, who promptly rejected it for the third time.

Visiting the U.S. in July, Mboya wanted to meet both candidates. Nixon was busy in Chicago at the G.O.P. convention; Mboya sought out Jack Kennedy at his Hyannisport retreat. Concerned about the wavering U.S. Negro vote,

Kennedy offered to contribute part of the airlift expenses from his family's Joseph P. Kennedy Jr. Foundation (named after the brother killed in World War II) and to look around for other private funds to help the grounded students. Sargent Shriver, Kennedy's brother-in-law and managing director of the family foundation, found no uncommitted funds in other charitable foundations, in the end recommended that the Kennedy Foundation put up the entire $100,000, and provide unstipulated help for students during their stay in the U.S.

When word of all this leaked out, the Nixon camp quickened its interest in the African airlift. Among U.S. Negroes, onetime Baseball Star Jackie Robinson is about the hottest Nixon supporter around. He called Nixon in Washington, and the Vice President assigned James Shepley, his campaign research chief,* to badger the State Department once more.

Last week, half an hour before Montero met with Shriver in Washington to work out a final agreement, Shepley called with the glad tidings: the State Department had reversed itself and was ready to put up the $100,000 grant after all. Jubilant over the sudden outpouring of funds, Montero accepted the Kennedy money, hopefully assumed that the State Department money would also be available for the student program.

A Matter of Politics. Pennsylvania's acidulous Senator Hugh Scott announced that the students would be coming to the U.S. on a State Department grant, and Jackie Robinson happily reported the news in his New York Post column. Then, when Senator Scott learned that the Ken nedys, and not the Government, would be picking up the tab, he took to the Senate floor in a boiling rage to denounce the Kennedys and their foundation. "The long arm of the family of the junior Senator from Massachusetts has reached out and attempted to pluck this project away from the U.S. Government," Scott rumbled. "At this moment, they appear to have been successful." He hinted at a possible investigation of "the questionable uses to which a supposedly charitable, tax-exempt money pot can be put."

Scott's denunciation brought Jack Kennedy to his feet to denounce him for the "most unfair, distorted and malignant attack I have heard in 14 years in politics." In a voice choked with emotion. Kennedy read a telegram from Montero. It was "regrettable," it ran, "that Senator Scott would attempt to reap political advantage from this nonpolitical educational program . . . The fact is, the State Department has repeatedly turned a cold shoulder to the airlift Africa program . . . On Monday of this week the State Department suddenly took interest in the project." Kennedy had been having hard sledding in Congress all week, but Scott's attack turned sympathy toward him. Minnesota's Democratic Senator Eugene McCarthy called Scott's speech a specimen of "Political Murder, Inc." and Nixon obliquely disowned it. Suddenly it was not the Kennedy camp but the Nixon camp that was asked to explain. "Who is Mr. Shepley?" Arkansas' William Fulbright, chairman of the Foreign Relations Committee, wanted to know. "I tried to get money for students who were to come from Egypt, and we secured only part of the funds requested. I could not do it. How in the world can Mr. Shepley go down to the State Department and within a few days get $100,000 for this purpose?" To get an answer to that question, Fulbright sent an ultimatum to Secretary of State Christian Herter, demanding a full explanation of the reversal.

As the thunder died away toward week's end, it seemed that the only sure winners were the African students.

* On leave from his job as chief of TIME and LIFE domestic correspondents.

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