The Happy, Humble Drive To Dump Nixon

They are mostly young, mostly decked out in denim, and they are hopeful that they can influence the political system. There were more than 10,000 of them at a kickoff rally in Providence, a meager 2,500 in more conservative Indianapolis, then an impressive 25,000 last week in a sports arena in Bloomington, Minn. Their attitude was expressed in exaggerated form at Indianapolis in the plaint of Folk Singer Phil Ochs: "Here's to the land you've torn out the heart of;/Richard Nixon, find yourself another country to be part of."

As opening events in a "Dump Nixon" drive, the rallies inevitably evoked the image of Eugene McCarthy's 1968 assault in New Hampshire against President Johnson, and of L.B.J.'s decision not to seek reelection. Indeed, McCarthy, hinting broadly that he might be willing to lead a third-party movement against Nixon, drew stand-up cheers when he told the Minnesota rally that if Nixon's policies do not change, it is time to "have a new party and a new policy and a true America." Yet McCarthy's presence also symbolized one of the main differences between the 1968 and the current attempt to deny a President renomination: many of the key figures this time are not of the President's party and thus will have no leverage on the nominating process. The main speakers at Providence were Senators Edmund Muskie and Birch Bayh, contenders for the Democratic nomination. The chief organizer is former New York Congressman Allard Lowenstein, now president of the liberal Americans for Democratic Action. Democrats, of course, are heartily in favor of any anti-Nixon effort.

Measuring Up. The actual chore of challenging Nixon in the upcoming primary elections still seems to fall on the square shoulders of California Congressman Paul McCloskey (TIME, April 26). The only prominent Republicans joining McCloskey at the rallies so far have been New York's Charles Goodell, who has cause for carrying a grudge against Nixon since the White House helped knock him out of the Senate last year, and Michigan Congressman Donald Riegle. He is a close friend of both McCloskey and Lowenstein, and the three often socialized in Washington before Lowenstein was defeated for re-election to Congress in November. McCloskey seems wholly sincere in his vow to oppose Nixon if no other Republican will. Drawing mainly on their own Congressional staffs, McCloskey and Riegle have opened a small campaign headquarters in Washington.

Money, of course, is a huge problem in waging a campaign against a President. Some 35,000 supporters have so far written or telegraphed McCloskey to cheer him on, but they have donated only $10,000. McCloskey has another $10,000 from California Industrialist Norton Simon, a liberal antiwar Republican, with a vague promise of more if, explains McCloskey, "I measure up as a candidate." The relatively unknown three-term Representative has light-years to go before he can make that claim; a recent Gallup poll of registered Republicans showed that only 1% would want him to be the party's candidate if Nixon were to bow out. Quips one of McCloskey's undaunted aides: "We're gaining; we're only 6% behind the 'no opinion' vote in the polls now."

No Smiles? That kind of levity about their David-and-Goliath struggle, coupled with considerable passion about the necessity of ending the killing in Indochina, is typical of the McCloskey camp. His own unpretentiousness and engaging good looks make him an effective television campaigner who could prove a real annoyance to Nixon. He likes to chide the "thin-lipped, dour Administration in the White House" by asking, "Don't they ever smile down there?"*

Yet McCloskey, a much-decorated Korean War veteran, can also be tough in his assessment of his party's image. "I want a party of faith, hope and good will in place of a party of hate, anger and fear," he says. He has broadened his complaints against Nixon beyond the war. He charges Nixon with a "lack of moral leadership" on racial matters, protests that the Administration is passing the buck to the courts to effect school integration, and claims that "this Administration is repelling the young. Unless the Republican Party can attract the idealism of the young, we're dead."

Will that kind of talk get McCloskey anywhere in his party? Certainly not with organization types. He concedes that he could be "read out of the party." No one expects McCloskey to get more votes than Nixon in either of the early primaries he intends to enter, Alaska and New Hampshire. But even White House aides concede that the political climate is so fluid that any respectable challenger could run up a sizable--perhaps 20%--protest vote in a primary. McCloskey hopes to do better than that. In the end, this almost certainly would help the Democrats defeat Nixon. The most recent Harris poll shows that Muskie is gaining support and would defeat Nixon today (in a race that includes Alabama Governor George Wallace) 47% to 39%; Hubert Humphrey trails Nixon by only 1%.

It became evident last week that McCloskey may have difficulty arranging a direct confrontation with Nixon in some states. Although White House aides claimed they did not initiate--and do not welcome--the tactic, Ohio Republican Senator Robert Taft Jr. announced that he will run as a favorite-son candidate in his state's primary with the aim of "standing in for the renomination of President Nixon." This practice could be followed elsewhere, although in some states the law requires that the President's name be put on the ballot if anyone in his party files against him.

Into the Ditches. White House strategists privately scoff at the McCloskey threat on the grounds that the only realistic challenge to Nixon within the party would have to be mounted from the right, not the left. They point out that the biggest cheers at rank-and-file Republican gatherings go to men like Ronald Reagan and Barry Goldwater. One aide says that it is futile to try to "dump a man who is a moderate conservative in a party that's moderate conservative; Nixon fits this party like a hand fits a glove." The President is spreading himself so broadly across the middle of the road, claims a White House expert, that "you've got to go into the ditches to get around him."

That was apparent last week as Nixon moved again to protect his right flank. He flew boldly into George Wallace's Alabama, becoming the first President to visit Mobile and Birmingham in more than 30 years, and he was cheered warmly by some 80,000 flag-waving enthusiasts in each city. Nixon tried to separate himself from the school-integration issue, noting that "the recent decision of the Supreme Court [approving busing in order to racially balance schools] presents some more problems." He echoed Southern feelings about the North on racial matters when he said, "I have nothing but utter contempt for the double hypocritical standard of Northerners who look at the South and point the finger and say, 'Why don't those Southerners do something about their race problem?' "

No Politics. Touring with Nixon but thoroughly overshadowed was an unusually subdued George Wallace. As signs in the large crowds proclaimed that 'BAMA LOVES NIXON and NIXON SELLS GOOD USED CARS, Wallace uncharacteristically told reporters: "Let's don't talk politics. The people of Alabama have a high regard for the presidency." Said pleased Presidential Aide Harry Dent: "Oh boy, that Southern strategy really worked this week. A lot of people misjudge the reservoir of strength for Richard Nixon in the South."

* Another whimsical observation on presidential politics was offered last week by Henry Ford II, who was heard to remark at the dedication of the new L.B.J. Library at the University of Texas: "We've got to get a Democrat back in the White House in '72 so I can start living like a Republican again."

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