Friday, Sep. 13, 1968
REPUBLICANS: The Politics of Safety
CERTAIN at last that he had found the formula for victory, Richard Nixon began his campaign last week in a mood of hyperoptimism. Indeed, at the start of his drive, the Republican nominee's main concern seemed to be that his forces might become too cocky. Even that eventuality, however, was being taken into account in the careful Nixon manner. "I think we started the campaign definitely on an upbeat note," said Nixon. "But we've got to keep it that way. There's no overconfidence in this crew this time."
There was reason enough to be sanguine. Beginning his push in Chicago, where the Democratic cause had been staggered by police clubs the week before, Nixon received a warm reception from huge noontime crowds in the Loop. During his 45-minute ride through the heart of the city, confetti poured from office buildings. Signs screamed VIVA NIXON and DUMP HUMP--NIXON'S THE ONE. People jumped through police lines to shake the candidate's hand. While the excitement hardly matched a Robert Kennedy happening, Nixon, like Kennedy before him, suffered a scratched wrist and lost a cuff link to eager grasps.
Contrasts. Though the Nixon staff claimed that Chicago had been chosen long ago for the campaign kickoff, the contrast between Republican calm and Democratic storm was obvious. About the only reminder of the previous week's violence was the elaborate, often sarcastic courtesy of the police toward reporters. When a TIME reporter asked if he could cross a police barricade, a cop gave a fairly typical answer: "Of course, sir. Anything you want, sir. We're here to serve you, sir."
Usually keenly aware of political currents, Nixon still appeared uncertain about the effect the Chicago disturbances have had on public opinion. His staffers sounded out Republican figures around the country, and were advised not to criticize the police. At the same time, Nixon did not want to be in the position of endorsing repressive police measures. In the end, he took the same tack that he had taken on both Viet Nam and the appointment of Abe Fortas as Chief Justice. The whole matter, he pronounced, was simply too important for partisan politics. Judgment should await the results of an investigation by the President's commission on violence: "I think that political figures should not make partisan comments from the sidelines."
Nixon's running mate had apparently not got the word. At first, Spiro Agnew faulted the police for "overreacting." Then, in an intemperate off-the-cuff tirade before the Young Republicans in York, Pa., he did an about-face and said that the whole business, together with campus revolts, had been largely inspired by Communists and "fellow travelers." The Marylander confided that he had heard "through channels" that demonstrators in Chicago had inserted razor blades in their shoes to kick the cops. All that the "hippies and yippies" can do, he said, is "lay down in a park and kick policemen with razor blades." In fact, not even the Chicago police claim that their men were kicked with blades. And, of course, there was simply no proof that either Communists or fellow travelers were responsible for the disruptions.
Talking Wildly. Until that outburst, which made even the "old Nixon" sound moderate, Agnew had been a model of circumspection. Painstakingly coached by expert Nixon aides, he showed careful, frequently thoughtful preparation in his formal speeches. Speaking on his own, though, he hit an entirely different tone. Besides talking wildly of the Communist menace, he argued against "appeasement of militant minorities in the ghettos." Entering the Fortas controversy for the first time, he took the remarkable line that Earl Warren, "a very competent Chief Justice," was responsible for the whole fuss. By retiring "precipitately," Agnew said, Warren had put the G.O.P. on the spot, since Republican Senators had to vote on his successor.
Agnew's missteps, however, were only minor in an otherwise smooth start to the nine-week campaign. Beside the danger of overconfidence, not a very serious worry, Nixon's main course for nervousness was what politicians are now calling "the Wallace factor." While Nixonites say optimistically that Wallace's strength will soon ebb (see following story), they are coppering their bets, talking less now about a "Southern strategy" and more about a "big-state strategy." Even if Wallace does take Southern states that the Republicans had hitherto counted on, they reason, Nixon can still win handily by capturing just a couple of the big states he lost in 1960.
With the 26 states he won that year--plus a few of the high-population centers--Nixon would sail past the magic number of 270 electoral votes. With that in mind, the G.O.P. planners are thinking of concentrating most of their candidate's energies on only ten of the most populous states. His schedule will be keyed to the evening TV newscasts, and most big events will take place no later than early afternoon, so that the networks will have time to develop their film and write their scripts.
Evening rallies, which are too late for the evening news and too early for the next night's program, will be few and far between. "Why should you hold a rally for 15,000 or 20,000 people," says one top aide, "when with TV you can get the whole state?" Evening banquets will go the way of torchlight parades. "All you get at banquets are drunks and fat cats," adds the adviser. "And banquets are the worst possible kind of TV. There is no rhyme or reason for it to be done, so it won't be. At night, Nixon rests." Agnew will be kept mostly out in the boondocks until he is completely sure of himself and until it is clear what attack the Democrats will use against him. Then, to take advantage of his Greek ancestry, he will be sent into ethnic neighborhoods of northern cities. Last week he spoke in such places as Oshkosh, Wis., and Paramus, N.J.
Whatever minor themes develop, the main thrust of the Nixon campaign will remain the same: safety and security. Going from Chicago to San Francisco and Houston--where he sounded perhaps his most conservative tone yet in a speech to an enthusiastic, conservative audience--Nixon used both as a constant refrain. "What the American people want is no departures," says the aide. "They want peace abroad and peace at home. Solutions will not come from radical departures. Nixon is safer."
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