Bonn Homme

Bavarians are a clannish lot, devoted to their native soil. One Bavarian member of the federal Bundestag, Socialist Waldemar von Knoringen, became so despondent in Bonn -- 265 miles from home -- that he would dial long-distance just to hear the operator's tape-recorded voice say "Munich, Munich, Munich."

Also Bavarian, but of another breed, is West German Defense Minister Franz Josef Strauss, 46, who has always seemed willing to trade Munich for Bonn -- and who, in the view of his detractors, had his eye on the Palais Schaumburg, residence of Chancellor Konrad Adenauer.

Prospects Dim. Less than a year ago, Strauss's political road seemed clear. The aging Adenauer would soon quit; Economics Minister Ludwig Erhard, a proficient economist but an uncertain politi cian, would not last long as successor; the third Chancellor of the Federal Republic would be the man who had forged the Bundeswehr into NATO's most powerful, most willing European partner.

Last September Strauss's prospects lost their glow. Before the final returns were in for national elections, Strauss referred to Adenauer in the past tense, angled with the Chancellor's opponents to pres sure him from office. During a U.S. trip, he plumped to make NATO a "fourth nu clear power" (enabling West Germany to get atomic arms), despite Washington's objections. Adenauer, visiting President Kennedy at the time, said nary a word to support his Defense Minister.

The most damaging blow was an accusation last January, printed in the news magazine Der Spiegel, that Strauss had profited from a get-rich-quick construction outfit named Fibag (for Finanzbau A.G.), which hoped to parlay $125,000 into $22 million on contracts to build housing for U.S. military personnel. A special Bundestag commission cleared Strauss of any dishonesty, but questioned his prudence in having written letters supporting promoters of the scheme. In his time of troubles. Christian Democratic Party leaders, who have little affection for the burly, baroque Bavarian, were notably restrained in backing him. "I've worked day and night for six years," Strauss complained to friends, "and what are the thanks? I've only made myself unloved."

Memory Fades. A showdown was bound to come, and last week Strauss proved that if he was not loved, at least he was needed. The autonomous Bavarian branch of the C.D.U. was split between a conservative Catholic wing and a liberal Protestant faction, and to heal the breach, an appeal was made to Strauss, a Catholic, to run for minister-president (governor) of Bavaria in November. Deliberately, Strauss let it be known that he was homesick after all, and perhaps it would be nice to return to Munich.

The reaction from Bonn was immediate. C.D.U. spokesmen suddenly discov ered that Strauss was "indispensable," said the party would "sincerely and deeply regret" his departure. Adenauer, who had been cool to Strauss for months, in vited him for two intimate chats at which the Defense Minister unburdened his complaints. The cagey Chancellor listened, then told Strauss that he was a fine fellow whose resignation would force an embarrassing reshuffle of the Cabinet. By the time the talks were over, Munich had faded from Strauss's memory and Bonn felt like home again.

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