Problems of Dollars and Days

One of the more intriguing questions of the election: Where did Hubert Humphrey's dough go? Last spring it seemed that for once in his political life the Vice President could campaign in affluence. But things did not turn out that way. The Democrats figure that by Election Day they will have spent only about $10 million, less than half as much as the Republicans have budgeted. After Nov. 5, the Democrats expect to face a deficit of perhaps $5 million. This relative penury has deprived Humphrey of the prime air time that Richard Nixon has been able to employ with marked effect.

The pinch resulted from a combination of factors, some within Humphrey's control and some beyond it. During his first month as an announced candidate, he raised nearly $1,000,000. Most of this money, plus additional cash gleaned later in the spring, was largely devoured--"wasted," say some of his aides--in primary contests where Humphrey was not even officially entered. The aim was to reduce Robert Kennedy's momentum. Among the gambits used was the quiet funneling of money to McCarthy headquarters via labor unions. Humphrey's organization was so sloppy or overconfident during that period that when Angier Biddle Duke sent a letter volunteering to solicit funds, as he had successfully done for Lyndon Johnson, no one in the Humphrey headquarters even took the trouble to reply.

Psychedelic Lights. When Kennedy was killed, anticipated contributions from businessmen, who did not like Humphrey so much as they feared Kennedy, failed to materialize. Eugene McCarthy soaked up some cash that otherwise would have gone to Humphrey during the summer. Finally, Nixon's 16-point lead in the Gallup poll after the G.O.P. Convention persuaded many potential big contributors to save their money for more hopeful causes.

In recent weeks things have improved. Wall Street Financiers John Loeb and Sidney Weinberg have done some strenuous pleading that has begun to pay off. Humphrey is even going after the loose change. Last week he paid a post-midnight visit to a Manhattan discotheque called Nepantha, where the younger, swingier set had paid $50 a head for the Humphrey cause. As he stood in the psychedelic lights, someone yelled: "You're beautiful, baby!" The event netted $10,000.

A brief pitch for funds at the end of his televised foreign policy speech on Sept. 30 brought in $300,000, or more than twice the cost of the network air time. A similar appeal in his speech on crime Oct. 12 also stimulated sizable mail contributions. Over-the-transom donations, averaging $3,000 a day just a few weeks ago, were averaging $35,000 a day last week.

Perverse, Inverse, Obverse. While Humphrey's slightly improved cash position can come nowhere near Nixon's reserves, the pickup is doubtless one of the elements contributing to Humphrey's determined show of good cheer these days. His chances of winning remain minuscule. The London bookmakers' odds against Humphrey--6 to 1 --do not seem unreasonable. Still, the candidate insists: "We are gaining. I see it. I feel it." When he spoke last week in that traditional Democratic forum, Detroit's Kennedy Square, the placard bearers appeared as usual. The signs carried the inevitable peace symbols that identify the Vice President's most steadfast foes. But this time the message was different: HECKLERS FOR HUMPHREY -- WE CAME BACK.

Though he has refrained from reviving the politics-of-joy motto, Humphrey has gone back to practicing it a little. In talking about McCarthy, he shows that he has regained some levity and confidence. In September, he pined and whined for McCarthy's support. Asked about his fellow Minnesotan last week, Humphrey cracked: "He says he's for Muskie and I take that as a sort of perverse, inverse, obverse sign that he is coming around." At the annual Alfred E. Smith memorial dinner in New York City, Humphrey saluted the more prominent guests on the dais one by one, ". . . and Senator McCarthy, wherever you are."

The Smith dinner provided a nominally nonpartisan pause in Humphrey's desperate, last-ditch efforts. His slim hopes rest on being able to eke out tiny pluralities in the large Northern states, and to that end he caroms around the country like a talking cannonball. Last week he was hoarse and weary, but still moving fast and talking long in Indiana, Missouri, New York, Michigan, Connecticut and Maryland.

At last his strategy was clear in his mind: Attack, attack, attack. George Wallace, he tells wavering unionists, was a "union-busting Governor and you know it." He brings the same indictment against Nixon, whom he labels "Richard the chickenhearted" for refusing to debate. Wallace and Curtis LeMay become the "bombsy twins." "I can't afford to sun myself on Key Biscayne," he says in yet another dig at the well-rested Nixon. "I have to take my case to the people--ten speeches a day if necessary." It is doubtful that even ten speeches a day, or unlimited TV time, could really change the situation. Quite apart from Humphrey's dollar shortage, there is the shortage of days. Not enough of them are left before the election to make it likely that he can reverse this year's seemingly overwhelming trend.

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