The Distant Horizon

As the G.O.P. readied itself for Jan. 20, Democratic leaders still eyed one another warily and scanned the distant horizon. There was an appearance of cohesion: Hubert Humphrey had led the Democrats to a defeat but not to a debacle. Most encouraging was that in Senator Edward Kennedy the party saw a shining champion who had not been bloodied at all in the conflict--one, moreover, who offered the hope of future victory.

Last week, for the first time since Robert's death, Ted Kennedy moved out of the seclusion of his Massachusetts and Washington bailiwicks. His journey took him to Morgantown, W. Va., where he dedicated a federal rehabilitation center for errant youth named in Bobby's honor. Recalling the 1960 primary campaign in West Virginia that confirmed Jack Kennedy's position as front runner, and Bobby's own campaign there last spring, Ted was momentarily husky-voiced. "These hills, these people, this state have had a very special meaning for my family," he said. "You have taught us the lessons of fortitude and stamina. We tried to make your problems and misfortunes ours and the nation's. You made our misfortunes yours."

Familial Duties. In Boston next day, Ted took up his self-imposed task of fund raising to pay off the $3,500,000 in debts run up by Robert Kennedy's presidential campaign. He was determined not to let the $1,000-a-plate banquet at the Sheraton Plaza degenerate into a wake. After expressing the Kennedys' gratitude to the "finest and dearest friends of our family," he gently needled his mother Rose, introduced her as a "shy and retiring person," as evidenced by her frequent appearances on NBC's Today show. Listening to Ted, a Boston politician said sadly: "He could have been the nominee this year and if he had, he would have been elected."

Whether he would have or not, the fact remained that Ted had clearly chosen not to run. The field of candidates would be open to others should he choose not to run again in 1972--he is, after all, the last male Kennedy of his generation, and on him falls the weight of many and great familial burdens. Some of these responsibilities were apparent last week, when Ted flew down to Washington to escort Ethel Kennedy to the hospital and remained until a caesarean operation was completed and mother and daughter--her eleventh child--were doing well. The following morning Ted accompanied four of Ethel's children to Arlington National Cemetery and knelt beside them at their father's grave.

Wondering Aloud. It is the chance that Ted may not be available in 1972, plus the unpredictability of the future, that encourages other ambitious Democrats to improve their positions and widen their bases of operations. One of the stronger presidential prospects is Maine's Senator Edmund Muskie, though he is more reluctant than most. On Ted's personal invitation, Muskie attended the Sheraton Plaza banquet and drew heavy applause. Muskie supporters want him to capitalize on his impressive vice-presidential campaign, which made him an instant national figure. Some have even wondered aloud if Ted would be prepared to do in 1972 what Muskie did this year--take the No. 2 spot. They believe that a Muskie-Kennedy ticket could certainly beat Nixon. Muskie himself seems content to wait upon events. He has reportedly refused to make a bid to become the Democratic whip in the Senate and has turned down as many as 15 offers a day, ranging from making speeches to appearing on TV shows.

Another Democratic hopeful, George McGovern, has returned to Washington after being re-elected handily as Senator from South Dakota. The view of McGovern's supporters is that Nixon may get through his first term with no major disasters. In that event, Ted Kennedy might defer his challenge until 1976, leaving the way clear for McGovern to step forward as the liberal Democrat who should oppose Nixon. Meanwhile, McGovern has an ambitious schedule of speaking engagements, mostly on college campuses, and is seeking to enroll as aides bright young men with fresh ideas about U.S. policy and problems.

Minitest. The future plans of Hubert Humphrey are more uncertain, but for the present he is acting out the role of party leader. He conferred last week with Larry O'Brien, urging him to stay on as Democratic National Chairman. McGovern thinks that O'Brien is more likely to quit, and is pushing hard to get the post for Ohio's able former Congressman John Gilligan, a liberal critic of the Administration's Viet Nam policy who was defeated in his Senate bid last month. Some observers see this as a sort of minitest among the Democratic chiefs and especially between Humphrey and McGovern.

Throughout all his political life, Humphrey has been handicapped by his lack of a personal fortune, and his present job as Vice President expires next month. He has had a tempting offer of a joint professorship from the University of Minnesota, his alma mater, and Macalester College (both conveniently located in Minneapolis-St. Paul). In addition, he has been asked to be a consultant to the Encyclopaedia Britannica, an arrangement that would give prestige to the Britannica and supply Humphrey with time and money to plan ahead.

Many Democrats have already written off Humphrey as a possible contender on two counts: both as a loser and be cause of age--he will be 61 in 1972. But Hubert, tanned, jovial and buoyant as ever, seems almost eager to face another presidential test. Last week his wife Muriel told an anecdote that does much to explain the insatiable fascination the presidency holds for men who have once made the race. At a recent White House reception for the Prime Minister of Iran, says Muriel, "Hubert held my hand as we came down the great stairs from the President's quarters to the foyer. The Marine Band was playing ruffles and flourishes, and all the people were gathered there waiting for the President and his party to enter, and everything looked so exciting and so beautiful. I turned to Hubert and said 'Damn,' and he looked at me and said 'Damn.' I can't say there wasn't a moment of regret."

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