Mystery Guest

"Here's your chance," Toastmaster George Murphy told the 2,000 diners at the Washington Hilton, "to sit in the presence of the next President of the U.S." Well, Lyndon Johnson was nowhere in sight, and neither were Hubert Humphrey and Bobby Kennedy. But just about every Republican aspirant for 1968 was on hand. The $500-a-plate affair was billed as a "G.O.P. Victory Gala" to celebrate last November's comeback, but it was more of a preview for next year. It was also the most profitable single event in the party's history, netting $1,000,000 for the G.O.P.'s 1968 congressional war chest, including a sizable amount from Democratic businessmen who like their bread buttered on both sides.

With a Thud. The top candidates for the top job were all there except New York's Governor Nelson Rockefeller, who insists that he does not want the job anyway. Richard Nixon, who was to leave this week on a three-week European tour, got in some last-minute politicking, shaking every hand in sight. Illinois' Freshman Senator Chuck Percy was busily huddling and helloing. But the cynosures were Michigan's Governor George Romney and California's Governor Ronald Reagan, who were scheduled to speak for three minutes each.

Romney led off, with a thud. The audience gave him a barely polite ovation, and Romney did little to evoke more during his talk. After a few jokes that had listeners groaning ("L.BJ.'s spending more and more time on the ranch practicing horseback riding to see if he can improve his Gallup"), he launched into a ponderous discourse on fiscal theory and federal-state relations, ran five minutes over his allotted time. "It was not a good night," said one of his supporters.

It had not been a good week for Romney, either. Earlier, he futilely tried to explain away his recent description of Percy as an "opportunist" (what he meant, said Romney, was that Percy "had a good sense of timing"). Next, Barry Goldwater did nothing to help him by declaring that the Governor just might make an acceptable candidate--"if he comes back to the Republican Party." And the morning after his disappointing dinner performance, Romney even overslept until the slugabed hour--for him--of 6:30, was so rattled that he arrived at a G.O.P. breakfast in mismatched pants and coat.

Gallant Man. Reagan, by contrast, wowed the crowd. "This is the only capital city I can visit that's in worse shape than our own," he began. "I thought while I'm here, I might get a CIA subsidy." He shifted smoothly into an interpretation of the recent G.O.P. victory. "The people voted 'against' last Nov. 8," he said. "They voted against sharing the fruit of our toil with those who can, but don't work; against the stultifying hand of Government in everything; against the soup-kitchen philosophy of the '30s." He sat down to the biggest applause of the night.

The only man given license to talk as long as he liked was Everett Dirksen, who was introduced to the appreciative crowd as "the 'gallant man' whose record is outselling Keep the Faith, Baby, by two to one." He rambled on for 40 minutes, but when his last tuba notes floated across the ballroom and the party began to break up, George Murphy's putative nominee was still a mystery. Or was he? Said Ev Dirksen, as he was accorded a genuinely affectionate ovation: "I accept your nomination."

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