Drummers for the Revolution

THE guests sat comfortably in the big leather chairs of the White House Roosevelt Room until the President jolted them with a question: "Is there anybody here who will defend the status quo? Please stand." None of the 28 Washington lobbyists from such powerful industries as oil, coal and trucking did; optimistic presidential aides interpreted the silence as an indication that Richard Nixon had scored a few more points in his own intense lobbying for his domestic reforms.

The meeting last week was only one of a series in Nixon's campaign to get Congress to enact his reform programs for revenue sharing, executive reorganization and welfare. With a sense of exhilaration noticeable in the White House, the President held four breakfasts for Republican Senators and Representatives. He directed his Cabinet members and top aides to make themselves available for television talk shows and to get their bags ready for cross-country advocacy. He scheduled four trips of his own beginning this month to personally sell his crusade at regional meetings with editors, publishers and broadcasters.

Nixon also dispatched Vice President Spiro Agnew last week to plead with county commissioners, mayors and other politicians in Atlanta and Kansas City. In Kansas City, Agnew assailed those who fear that local governments cannot be trusted with unrestricted federal funds. Said he: "I don't think there is any more likelihood of a local official being corrupted than there is of a Congressman being corrupted." Nixon is also organizing 20 touring panels--three Republican Congressmen each--to plead for his program. They are being called "Drummers for the New Revolution."

All of the Administration's muscle was being exerted to bring pressure on the Democratic Congress, where such powerful counter-revolutionaries as Arkansas Representative Wilbur Mills stand in Nixon's way. As chairman of the Ways and Means Committee, which must pass on the revenue-sharing plan, Mills does not yield easily to caresses or to kicks. Invited to the White House with his committee's top-ranking Republican, Wisconsin's John Byrnes, Mills had a friendly but blunt chat with the President. "There's no way to compromise," he told Nixon. Privately, he dismissed the Administration's hard sell: "They're putting on a big act." And, he vowed, "I intend to win." Mills agreed, as Nixon requested, to hold full committee hearings on revenue sharing, "but not for the purpose of promoting the plan--for the purpose of killing it."

Mills took the House floor the very next day to attack revenue sharing. He limited his criticism to the $5 billion Nixon wants the Federal Government to return to states and local governments to use as they see fit. This, Mills argued, would tempt lower units of government to raise their expenditures without increasing their taxes. Hence Congress would have to raise federal taxes to meet the unchecked demands.

He also contended that many of those states now paying the highest share of federal taxes would benefit proportionately the least from revenue sharing--and those are the states with large cities in the most trouble. Mills would prefer to have each state impose an income tax to meet its own needs (13 states do not now have one), and let the Federal Government bear the costs of collecting--and returning--the funds. Mills also suggested that taxpayers could be given credit against their federal income tax for state taxes paid and that existing federal grants be increased or modified to make them more effective.

Despite Mills' tough talk, the Administration's crusade is a difficult one for Democrats to oppose. Many, in fact, approve of the principles involved. They are aware that most of Nixon's proposals are popular, at least on first view. A recent Gallup poll indicated that 77% of the voters favor revenue sharing. Except for Mills, most Democrats are warily awaiting details of the Administration's legislative proposals before taking issue directly with the President.

Given a rare hour of prime television time to reply to the State of the Union speech, the Democratic congressional leadership could coax only the mild-mannered and gentlemanly Senate majority leader, Mike Mansfield, to go before the cameras. Quizzed by four newsmen, he declined to attack Nixon, repeatedly noting that "we don't have the specifics." At other points he defended the President as "doing the best he can." Mansfield failed to offer even a range of Democratic alternatives, and succeeded only in retaining his reputation as "Mr. Nice Guy." He admitted: "I'm not really enjoying this."

That cautious Democratic approach is certain to fade as the legislative battles are joined and partisan pressures build up. House Speaker Carl Albert, for one, is negotiating for later air time to counter the President. And the potential Democratic presidential candidates are itching for a chance to get a handle on the specifics.

But at the moment Democrats are on the defensive. So far, they are falling back on the claim that Nixon's reforms either do not really grapple with the nation's most urgent problems, or do so inadequately. There are valid doubts that unrestricted funds would be used to help the people who need it most. Nixon is offering fresh approaches, however, that are worthy of serious consideration, while the Democrats are in danger of casting themselves as naysayers.

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