"Pressure, Pressure ..."

"This is Ted Kennedy," said the voice over the telephone.

"No, it isn't," replied the female delegate to Massachusetts' Democratic convention.

"Yes, it is."

"If you are, then tell me the date of the President's birthday."

With that, the voice, which was indeed Ted Kennedy's, whispered in a frantic aside to aides standing near by: "When's the President's birthday? Is it the 27th or the 29th?"

Said an aide: "I don't remember."

Said the voice to the woman delegate: "May 27th."

"No, it isn't," said she, and slammed the receiver down.

That was one vote that Teddy Kennedy presumably lost in his effort to win endorsement by Massachusetts Democrats convening in Springfield last week. But he won enough to force Attorney General Edward McCormack Jr. to concede midway through the first ballot when trailing 691-360. Just a few weeks ago, Eddie figured he was well ahead. Both through his own record as a regular Massachusetts Democrat and as House Speaker John McCormack's nephew, Eddie commanded the loyalties of the state's party pros. But those pros proved loyal only up to the point where they came into conflict with the techniques and power of a Kennedy.

Real Shaked. Even before the balloting began, the McCormack men could see defeat in the offing. Eddie's dad, "Knocko" McCormack, sat sadly in the Cheddar Cheese Room, an eatery in the bowels of Springfield's Sheraton-Kimball Hotel, and spoke darkly about the Kennedy lieutenants. "They're cold, they're cold," said old Knocko. "I got here at 12:30 last night, and I got in the elevator with an old friend from Northampton. He's been in the American Legion with me for years, and I say, 'Hello.

Commander. And he hangs his head, and he says, 'I can't be with you. Knocko.' 'What do you mean?' says I. 'I've been offered a good federal job if I go with Kennedy,' says he.

"And over in Worcester there's another guy. He's like a first cousin to me for 40 years. How would you like to be shaked like that when he comes and says he's not with you? How do you like that? He says they promised him the postmastership in Worcester." Concluded Knocko: "It's pressure, pressure, pressure, post office, post office, post office."

12-to-1. Even the candidates' arrivals in town were significantly different. Eddie came quietly and went to work in a modest Sheraton-Kimball headquarters suite.

Teddy blared into town behind a crack brass band to find a prearranged crowd, replete with pretty girl workers, awaiting him outside the hotel. Pulled up on a sound truck, Teddy began to speak--and his chopping gestures, his thrust-out chin, his flat inflections and staccato cadences were more than slightly familiar.

From his headquarters, McCormack looked wistfully out the window at the Kennedy reception below. He was already beaten and he knew it. While he was struggling to get telephone calls placed through the hotel's harried switchboard operators, Teddy's people had set up a separate, 12-circuit switchboard. At the convention auditorium, where both McCormack and Kennedy had been allotted a single room backstage, Kennedy had another 12-circuit switchboard, while McCormack had a single line.

Crushed Defectors. When the big night arrived, Kennedy's floor managers discovered that a last-minute McCormack offensive seemed to be swinging away some 200 of Teddy's pledged delegates.

Swiftly, the Kennedy machine moved to put down the rebellion. Massachusetts Congressman Edward Boland dashed around haranguing delegates. Armed with six walkie-talkies, prowling Kennedy aides radioed back the identities of the defectors to the headquarters backstage. Within two hours the revolt was crushed.

Waiting in his hotel room for the balloting, Teddy silently read through his acceptance speech, hammering out points with his right hand. Down at the auditorium, the turbulent roll call began, with the Berkshire District, as expected, going for McCormack 31-27. Cried one delegate above the din: "Being too old for a post office job, I'm for McCormack." But then the ist Bristol District backed Kennedy 43-9 and the rout was on. At midnight, with Kennedy leading 2-1, Knocko McCormack slowly walked backstage and phoned his son to say he should concede.

When the TV announcer reported that McCormack had entered the hall, the Kennedys scrambled to leave the hotel for the hall. Teddy's wife Joan swiftly combed her blonde hair while two aides helped her husband with his cuff links.

Without a flicker of emotion, Teddy stood before the TV set, arms folded across his chest, and listened to McCormack concede. When McCormack declared that he would still fight Kennedy in the September primary--"I will take my case to the people"--Teddy smiled sardonically.

Then, just as he had planned to do for months, he left to make his triumphant appearance at the convention.

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