Violent End to a Vitriolic Campaign

THE time has come to take the gloves off," said Richard Nixon as the 1970 political campaign came to a suddenly turbulent conclusion. He proceeded to do just that, hitting out with the strongest language he has used as President, punching hard on his favorite theme of law-and-order. He declared war on what he called the "band of violent thugs" in America--and on the permissiveness that he believes has helped to create a climate of terror.

What brought on Nixon's strident outburst was a physical assault on his campaign motorcade in San Jose, Calif., during the closing week of the campaign. It was an attack that came dangerously close to disaster, but it played perfectly into the President's political hands. Throughout the campaign, Nixon and Vice President Agnew have tried to win Republican votes through popular resentment against extremist--and sometimes not so extremist--dissidents. At times, small groups of hecklers were deliberately allowed into his audiences, just numerous and noisy enough to enable Nixon to score the points he wanted to make. In San Jose, however, the benignly managed protest abruptly got out of control.

When it happened, Nixon was nearly at the end of his three-week, 22-state political blitz of 1970. He appeared with

Governor Ronald Reagan and Senator George Murphy to address a crowd of 3,300 in the San Jose municipal auditorium, where he replayed his standard speech of the campaign. Then Nixon emerged into the darkness to confront several thousand hostile demonstrators. He clambered onto the hood of his limousine. Face hard and chin jutting out, he stood in the glare of television lights; he spread his arms and waggled his fingers in his "V" salute. "That's what they hate to see," he remarked.

Thugs and Hoodlums. The eggs began to fly even before the motorcade moved out to run the gauntlet between two walls of unfriendly citizens. Dozens of rocks were thrown, some the size of a potato. They bounced off the President's well-armored car, and they smashed windows in the press and staff buses trailing behind. One Secret Service agent, one newsman and one White House staff girl were injured, none seriously. Nixon's longtime secretary, Rose Mary Woods, who had been along in 1958 when the vice-presidential motorcade was mobbed and stoned in Venezuela, shouted: "Duck! It's just like Caracas!"

"This was no outburst by a single individual," President Nixon said in a quickly issued statement. "This was the action of an unruly mob that represents the worst in America." Nixon went on the offensive the following evening at a rally in Anaheim, Calif., which was broadcast on national television by the Republican National Committee at a cost of $48,000. "We must recognize," he said, "that in a system that provides a method for peaceful change, there is no cause that justifies resort to violence or lawlessness in the United States of America."

But it was in Phoenix, Ariz., that Nixon delivered his angry, major address in reply to the mob at San Jose. "It is about time we cut out the nonsense about repression being the cause of violence," he said. "Violence in America today is not caused by the war, not caused by repression. There is no romantic ideal involved. Let's recognize them for what they are--not romantic revolutionaries, but the same thugs and hoodlums that have always plagued a good people."

Only a misplaced indulgence is responsible, he argued. "A major reason why they have gained such prominence in our national life, the major reason they dominate our television screens, the major reason they increasingly terrorize decent citizens can be summed up by a single word: appeasement. When you permit an imbalance to exist that favors the accused over the victim, you are inviting more violence and breeding more bullies. For too long, the strength of freedom in our society has been eroded by a creeping permissiveness--in our legislatures, in our courts, in our universities. For too long, we have appeased aggression here at home--and as with all appeasement, the results have been more aggression, more violence. The time has come to draw the line.

"If a man chooses to dress differently or wear his hair differently or talk in a way that repels decent people, that's his business. But when he picks up a rock, then it becomes your business and my business to stop him. Let me add this personal note. The terrorists of the far left would like nothing better than to make the President of the United States a prisoner in the White House. Let me set them straight. This is a free country, and I fully intend to share that freedom with my fellow citizens."

Curled-Lip Boys. Over the weekend, Nixon moved to expand the powers of the FBI: he ordered federal agents to move in quickly on request from state or local law-enforcement authorities whenever police officers have been attacked. In Phoenix, he called for the passing of new laws "that would give the peace forces new muscle to deal with the criminal forces"--and that, in turn, "requires men in Congress who will work and fight for laws that will put the terrorists where they belong--not roaming around civil society, but behind bars."

Nowhere in the President's speeches was there any evident attempt to rally the forces of reason in both parties against the minority of radicals; the clear implication was that only the President's supporters were on the side of right. In the Anaheim speech, the President pointed his political moral. To root out violence and lawlessness, said Nixon, "it is time for us to recognize that candidates for the Senate and the House who in the past have either condoned this, defended it, excused it or failed to speak against it--that these are men who do not have the qualifications now to take the strong stand that needs to be taken." Few candidates for public office have condoned, defended or excused violence; few have failed to deplore it, in fact. The statement implies, however, what Agnew said flatly: that the Administration's opponents have stimulated and encouraged "these people," meaning extremists. Said Agnew last week: "It is time to sweep that kind of garbage out of our society."

The Vice President spent much of the final week in Dixie, denying that he was "reflecting or pushing what the curled-lip boys in the Eastern ivory towers contemptuously call a 'Southern strategy' " --and promising that "this Administration will appoint, and will see confirmed, a Southern strict constructionist on the Supreme Court." At a Navy League dinner in Manhattan, he fired an old-fashioned broadside at members of Congress who have become "viscerally antagonistic toward the whole defense complex." Said Agnew: "Deep down in their hearts is a feeling that international Communism is no longer really dangerous, at least not as dangerous as it used to be, so that America can safely dispense with expending major sums on modern armaments." It seemed a curious comment from a Vice President whose President has cut the U.S. defense budget, pursued strategic arms limitation talks with the Soviet Union, and only the day before had warmly feted the President of Communist Rumania.

Simplistic Solutions. Agnew's blunderbuss assaults on "radical liberals" have infuriated thoughtful moderates. New York's Mayor John Lindsay, who split with his party to back Democrat Arthur Goldberg against Nelson Rockefeller, observed last week that the 1970 campaign "has spread a cloud of suspicion and mistrust over our whole nation." He added: "Men with great power and high office make headlines that stir fears rather than rally hopes. They have charged that opposition to their policies somehow is an incitement to unrest and violence. That charge is incredible."

One of Agnew's principal candidates for political oblivion is New York's Charles Goodell, an outspoken critic of the Viet Nam War. Last week, after finding himself trailing both Conservative James Buckley and Democrat Richard Ottinger in the New York Daily News straw poll, Goodell preempted Lassie to announce that he would stay in the race despite his poor showing and the Administration's refusal to endorse him. Sometimes, he said, a Senator "has to fight the tide--when the tide, in his opinion, is running wrong, when the frustrations of our people accumulate to lead them to simplistic solutions that will not solve." At week's end a reluctant Governor Rockefeller, who knows that many of his backers are also for Conservative Buckley, began a belated series of radio-TV spots and newspaper ads supporting Goodell.

The Democrats have been hobbled in their anti-Agnew campaigning by a lack of prominent national figures not preoccupied with their own reelection, but they have answered fire on occasion. Sargent Shriver labeled Agnew "this nation's great divider," and the venerable John McCormack, who is about to retire as'Speaker of the House, recently accused the Administration of "playing on people's fears and dodging the issues." Said McCormack: "In all of my experience in campaigns, I have never witnessed such wholesale, patently contrived efforts to smear an entire party as that practiced by the Republicans in this campaign."

At its end, the 1970 campaign seemed an ill-concocted brew of partisan bile. Much of it was politics-as-usual, but the last spurt of violence and anger --coupled with Nixon's bellicose rejoinder--took it sharply beyond the ordinary. Anti-Administration members of Congress who survive the elections may return to Capitol Hill less inclined than ever to give Nixon an even break, especially as 1972 approaches. Quite possibly the broader political irritations will subside, as they traditionally do after a campaign. But for the present, the 1970 electoral battling left the land still more riven than it was before the skirmishing began.

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