The Delicacy of Being Laird

Around the Nixon White House loyalty comes first, and in recent months Secretary of Defense Melvin Laird has been getting low marks for his performance in supporting the President's Viet Nam policy-- not because he is against it in substance but because he would like withdrawal to proceed even faster. From the Administration's viewpoint, he has been too far out in front of his boss on a withdrawal timetable. For example, Laird predicted a lowering of the troop level to 50,000 by the end of 1972 weeks in advance of Nixon's televised speech two weeks ago announcing a similar reduction. Since January, he has spoken about terminating the U.S. presence in Viet Nam, while the President refused to speak of a date for total withdrawal. Leaks to columnists and meetings with doves are being skeptically viewed as the beginnings of Laird's post-Pentagon political ambitions. As one Administration loyalist sourly puts it: "He is not fooling anybody."

For Laird, a delicate balancing act is involved. He and Nixon remain personally close, and among the Pennsylvania Avenue elite only Henry Kissinger wields greater influence on matters relating to national security. But the candid Laird has made no secret of his intention to leave the Pentagon after four years and return to the political arena. "I am a politician, I always have been, and I am proud of it," he says.

Laird, 48, is a driving, restless individual who becomes impatient when things do not go exactly as planned, and he is privately impatient with the pace of many of the Administration's programs. When he leaves the Pentagon, he would like to be remembered as the Secretary of Defense who took the nation out of the war via Vietnamization and who got the defense budget under control. Neither project is proceeding as well as he had hoped.

Consequently Laird is faced with the ticklish problem of being different without being disloyal. Any future political ambitions depend upon the good graces of party regulars who, like their leader, place a premium on loyalty. Laird clearly does not wish to offend Nixon.

For a politician of Laird's stature and background, the options are limited once he does leave the Pentagon; there are few lesser positions he would willingly accept. There is speculation around Washington that he has his eye on the Republican presidential nomi nation in 1976. "I couldn't believe you were talking about Mel if you didn't talk in terms of his presidential plans," says one G.O.P. insider.

One plausible scenario along these lines has Laird leaving the re-elected Administration in 1973 to run against Wisconsin Senator Gaylord Nelson. Nelson is more vulnerable than William Proxmire, Wisconsin's other Senator. More important, Nelson's seat comes up for grabs in 1974, time enough for Laird to garner sufficient national exposure for a run at the presidency in 1976.

Bypassed. On the other hand, Laird could elect to return to the House--he would be an odds-on favorite to regain his old seat in Wisconsin's Seventh District--to pursue his once announced ambition of becoming Speaker. "That is where he would feel most comfortable," says a friend, "and Laird has 14 to 20 years more public service in him. He could go for the big one later."

For the present, however, Laird's actions have stirred considerable unease at the White House, where end runs for glory, even looking to 1976, are considered bad form. As yet, the President does not seem inclined to censure Laird in any way. But he seems to have expressed his views on how he could, were he so inclined, when he bypassed Laird on the Galley case and worked through the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, Admiral Thomas Moorer. When asked why Nixon had acted as he did, an aide explained: "The President wanted a 'yes, sir,' not a 'yes, but' answer." That explanation, as well as any, sums up Laird's current stance.

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