On the Road

Each falling leaf of the political calendar and each new poll showing Lyndon Johnson's vulnerability strip a layer of noncandidacy from the not-yet candidates. Last week most of Johnson's would-be opponents--including the putative independent, George Wallace--were out in force, all looking and talking like committed campaigners.

The irony of George Gallup's latest poll was that it showed Nelson Rockefeller, who stayed home, far ahead of his restless friends. Rocky led L.B.J. by 14 points while Richard Nixon was ahead by four and George Romney by three.

Romney was having other problems as well. Embarked on an eight-day tour of ten states starting in the Dakotas, he shotgunned Johnson Administration policies from the battlefields of Viet Nam to the wheat fields of the plains. The Michigander did not endear himself to Midwestern audiences by condemning collective bargaining for farmers and urging that they sell their commodities abroad "by the law of supply and demand"--which would mean at low world prices. Senator Milton Young of North Dakota, who had said earlier he would support Romney if nominated, commented: "He isn't nominated yet and judging from his farm statements in North Dakota, he never will be." Romney arrived in tree-scarce South Dakota saying how he had been looking forward to seeing the "beautiful black forest," meaning, presumably, the Black Hills.

Barry for Dick. Rather than allow his brainwash gaffe to sink into oblivion, Romney repeatedly invoked the term, along with his older standbys. Communism and world poverty are not the nation's greatest perils, he said. "The greatest threats are from a decline in moral character, personal responsibility, family life and religion--the things on which American life are based." His speeches were mostly well received, even at the Trunk 'n' Tusk Club in Phoenix, where many Arizona elephants cannot forget his refusal to support Barry Goldwater in 1964.

Goldwater himself emceed the program, posed for pictures with Romney, and generally indicated enough forgiveness to support Romney if nominated. But questioners in the audience wanted to know about 1964. Romney, who was running for re-election as Governor in 1964, gave the explanation that most politicians understand: "We did in Michigan," he said, "what we thought contributed the most to the Republican Party in the state." Some of his listeners booed. Goldwater observed that national unity rather than a spirit of revenge must prevail, that he could find little to disagree with in Romney's speech. Then, with head-snapping abruptness, Barry said: "I'm backing Dick Nixon."

Genial & Relaxed. Nixon, meanwhile, was doing some talking for himself in New Hampshire, where he is regarded as the front runner in the contest that starts the presidential primary season next March. Prefacing everything by saying, "If I become a candidate," he predicted "a close, hard fight in this state" that "I don't expect to lose." Both in New Hampshire and Chicago, his next stop on the way to Wisconsin, he was a genial, relaxed version of the old uptight campaigner. He even had some spare empathy for Johnson ("I've had a few problems with the intellectuals myself"), and in discussing the U.S. commitment in Viet Nam, Nixon sounded as if he had employed Dean Rusk's speechwriter. "But," said Nixon, "never has such awesome military power been used so ineffectively."

Addressing the Executives Club of Chicago, Nixon drew a bigger crowd than Ronald Reagan, who came into town the same day to talk to the Illinois Chamber of Commerce. Otherwise, Reagan won more than his share of local laurels. Covering five states in three days--his most ambitious foray since taking office--Reagan was at the top of his form despite a bad cold.

He was armed with quips both spontaneous and prepared, with an all-purpose speech adaptable for local audiences, and a major address for Kansas State University to prove that he is no anti-intellectual (see EDUCATION). The idea of running for President, he said, both "scared him to death" and "honored" him. But everywhere that Ronnie went, the crowds were sure to grow. At four Reagan-graced fund-raising sessions the G.O.P. grossed $440,000.

Waiting Game. He told his mostly conservative listeners what they wanted to hear. "The Great Society," he said in Texas, "is not the wave of the future but the end of an era, a dismal rehash of the 1930s." Welfare is "a colossal and complete failure," he said in Des Moines, where he once was a sportscaster and a liberal Democrat. "Let's stop being our brother's keeper, and be his brother. Let him keep himself." On Viet Nam he repeated his hard line. "Attrition has been more costly than a quicker and more violent effort to solve the war might have been." Anti-war demonstrators? The U.S. should consider a formal declaration of war to facilitate their prosecution as traitors.

By contrast, Rockefeller spent the week minding state business in New York, still playing his quiet waiting game with skill. He announced that he would seek a new state program to create jobs in ghettos by offering tax incentives to businesses that locate there. But on national politics he had nothing to add to his remark of the previous week: "I don't want to be President." Lest this discourage Rockefeller's fans, Maryland's Governor Spiro Agnew, one of his most irrepressible supporters, declared cryptically: "Rockefeller is just as much of a non-candidate as he was before."

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