Home for Ted

In the midst of a Senate debate on Selective Service reform, Edward Moore Kennedy of Massachusetts was barely able to suppress a guffaw when he paused to read an unsigned note in small, familiar script. "Move in for the kill," it said. "I'm behind you. Way behind." The message from Kennedy's older brother and junior Senate colleague, Robert, was accurate as well as amusing. Bobby is political patriarch of the clan and may be a candidate for President in a few years, but he is way behind his kid brother when it comes to the use of power on Capitol Hill.

Ted, the more boyish "Teddy" is heard less and less, picks his issues with care, works diligently and displays tact with his elders. He can, and does, challenge leaders of both parties in disputes ranging from expanded social security benefits to ending the poll tax, but he avoids the maverick's stigma. He can and has gigged the Administration into paying closer heed to the Vietnamese refugee problem and dropping support for the National Rifle Association's annual matches, but he has not made himself controversial. In short, the senior Senator from Massachusetts seems determined to live up to John F. Kennedy's description of him as "the best politician in the family."

Crusty Barons. It took some doing. When first elected in 1962, Ted's sole assets seemed to be a princely phiz and a kingly cognomen. He was only 30, and his political experience was virtually nil. As a dynast in democratic guise, Ted was vulnerable as were few other freshmen to rough handling from both his seniors and the press.

Yet he was soon getting on famously with both. The reputed intellectual lightweight, who was once expelled by Harvard because of hanky-panky on an examination, turned out to be a glutton for legislative homework. The big (6 ft. 2 in.), brown-haired freshman proved agreeably reticent on the floor and eager to develop good working relationships with such crusty barons as Mississippi's James Eastland, chairman of the Judiciary Committee. In two years, Kennedy was chairman of Judiciary's Special Subcommittee on Refugees and Escapees.

"When I first came down here," Ted recalls, "President Kennedy advised me to work on areas of special interest to me as the best way to be really effective." Ted has followed the advice faithfully. After his first couple of quiet years, Kennedy zeroed in on immigration and civil rights. He helped draft and promote the 1965 immigration-reform act, then led a spirited drive to have local poll taxes banned in that year's voting-rights bill. Bucking both conservatives and some fellow liberals, Kennedy lost on the poll-tax ban by four votes, but established himself as a Senator to be reckoned with.

Kennedy's clout showed itself this year when he led a seemingly doomed crusade against a congressional redistricting bill aimed at negating the Supreme Court's one-man, one-vote dictum until the 1972 election. Kennedy first promoted passage of a Senate version separate from the House's, and when all five of his fellow Senators on the joint conference committee opted for the House bill, Kennedy defied tradition by warring on the conference committee report. The Senate backed him, 55 to 22, a notable personal triumph. Yet he made no enemies in the process. "He isn't sneaky," says one of his adversaries. "He isn't a wise guy."

Historical Footnote. Nor is he a headline hound. His name alone assures heavy coverage, his activities have made most of it favorable, and his common sense precludes him from pushing his luck. Even on such an emotional issue as the plight of Vietnamese refugees, Kennedy has been low-key. He had studied the problem closely for two years, while quietly getting the Administration to provide additional medical and other assistance, before he staged open committee hearings this fall. In January he plans to return to Viet Nam for another check on the treatment of civilians.

Meanwhile he is increasingly busy at home. He is pushing a juvenile-delinquency bill, is fighting to keep this year's civil rights bill alive, and is again colliding with his seniors in his attempt to strip the Administration's crime-prevention bill of amendments which, he feels, would defeat the measure.

By their very presence in the Senate, Ted and Bobby Kennedy constitute a political footnote: never before has one family sent three sons to the Senate. Ted has little of Jack's rhetoric or mystique; he lacks Bobby's dramatic drive. Yet, alone of the three, he has found the Senate completely congenial to his talents and tastes.

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