Bye Bye Bowles

In the sobering aftermath of the calamitous Cuban invasion, it was no consolation for Jack Kennedy to hear nagging reminders from U.S. liberals that Chester Bowles, his Under Secretary of State, had opposed the plan all along. The very fact that the whole country seemed to have been told about Bowles's stand was especially annoying. The more he thought about it, the more reasons the President found for wanting to shift Bowles far from the Washington scene.

As State's No. 2 man, Bowles was supposed to be goading the department's sluggish bureaucracy into action, leaving Boss Dean Rusk free to follow the global swirl of high policy. But Bowles, used to being top man, never stopped spinning off grand ideas, reshaping the world to his taste. (He kept pushing for his pet Mekong River project in Southeast Asia so hard that even his aides insist he really has only two speeches: the Mekong River speech and the non-Mekong River speech.)

A onetime proponent of the "two-China policy," Bowles complicated the trying problem of Red China's admission to the United Nations by insisting that the Administration embroil itself in full-scale debate on the issue. At Bowles's suggestion, Kennedy made the naive mistake of asking the Russians for a six-month diplomatic moratorium while the new Administration worked out its foreign policy. Bowles earned the enmity of the department's career men by recommending outsiders for important ambassadorships, irked Democratic politicians at the same time by not selecting big party contributors.

Getting the Point. The situation soon became so touchy that Jack Kennedy and his White House aides developed a nervous tic of annoyance whenever they were bothered by Bowles. Finally the President summoned his Under Secretary of State to a White House lunch. Figuring that the former adman would quickly get the point, Kennedy gently suggested Bowles might like to become ambassador to Chile.

Bowles really did get the point when friends reminded him of two news stories by the President's good friends Columnist Joe Alsop and the Chattanooga Times's Charlie Bartlett, which detailed Bowles's difficulties. The stories, plus the lunch, could only mean he was being fired. As soon as he got sore, Bowles proved to be no pushover. With familiar Madison Avenue skill, he and his pals leaked a spate of stories on the sinister plot to send him into exile. Their catchy, if misleading pitch: "It will be a curious result if the first head to roll after the Cuban affair is the head of the man who opposed it.''

The fuss grew, and reporters jangled telephones in Hyannisport, where the President was seeking weekend relaxation. But Press Secretary Pierre Salinger professed complete ignorance of any attempt to fire Bowles. When he got back to Washington, Kennedy was so irked by the splurge of Bowles-inspired stories that he canceled a White House lunch with Hubert Humphrey, summoned Bowles back to a second meal. This time there were no leaks, but Salinger announced with finality that Bowles was going on an important, 18-day trip to meet with chiefs of U.S. missions in Africa, the Middle East and South Asia. Obviously, the mounting liberal clamor now made it risky to fire Bowles. "Obviously, he's staying," insisted Salinger.

Rocking the Department. But when Kennedy met the press three days later, it was not at all obvious just how long Bowles would stay. "Contrary to some reports, I've never asked Mr. Bowles for his resignation, nor has he ever offered it," said the President blandly. "I have always expected that he would be part of this Administration until it concluded its responsibilities." After expressing his "complete confidence" in Bowles, the President then added, equally blandly: "I have put the general principle forward that we are going to attempt to maximize the abilities of everyone working in the Government. If I came to the conclusion that Mr. Bowles could be more effective in another responsible position. I would not hesitate to ask him to take that position, and I am confident Mr. Bowles would not hesitate to take it."

Bowles stayed home most of the rest of the week, ostensibly to prepare for his trip. But he was still sore, and he was still mounting a publicity campaign to keep his job. At week's end it was clear that by turning his survival into a battle that rocked the State Department, Chester Bowles had destroyed his own usefulness and ensured his eventual removal.

And the U.S., which had had a front-page seat at the fight, could only wonder why Jack Kennedy had not chopped Chester Bowles down with one purposeful command, rather than set up an unseemly spectacle as he tried to coax the amiable big-thinker into quitting.

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