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What little attention New Hampshire voters are giving to their presidential primary has been concentrated on the Democrats. They have paid scant heed to President Nixon's two rivals on the Republican side, a brace of U.S. Representatives who differ drastically in ideology but otherwise turn out to have a good deal in common. They are California's Paul ("Pete") McCloskey, 44, a Kennedy-esque Marine Reserve colonel who wants the U.S. out of Viet Nam at once, and Ohio's John Ashbrook, 43, a deep-dyed conservative who deplores Nixon's "leftward drift" on welfare, China, Keynesian deficits and in the U.S.-Soviet armaments race. Neither, however, has made much impression on the New Hampshire granite. Nixon's edge has dropped from 79% in October to 69% today in a state public television poll; McCloskey rates only 12%, Ashbrook 5%.

Ashbrook's chief asset is the backing of William Loeb, reactionary publisher of the state's leading newspaper, the Manchester Union Leader (TIME, Jan. 31). Ashbrook has little money and few volunteers. He has no support from the paladins of political conservatism--Barry Goldwater, Ronald Reagan, John Tower--who are sticking with the President. "Their loyalty goes to party rather than principle," Ashbrook says calmly. "Their concept is that Nixon is still better than the alternatives." He likes campaigning and manages to find some consolation in almost any adversity. One Democrat complained: "I don't know who I'm for, I just don't want Nixon." Undaunted, Ashbrook replied: "Well, you and I have something in common." His main aim is to press Nixon back toward the right by "holding up a standard for people who still consider themselves conservatives." He concedes that if he does not top McCloskey's showing, it will be a setback.

Oh, Really? McCloskey is no more sanguine about his chances of besting the President. "It would take a goddamn second coming for me to beat Nixon up here," he admits. His campaign in some ways recalls Eugene McCarthy's four years ago, but it lacks the messianic aura. There are no great swarms of young "Get Clean for Gene" volunteers; his campaign is $40,000 in debt, despite contributions from such wealthy backers as Norton Simon and Jock Whitney. He starts his 20-hour campaign days at factories or simply walking the streets of New Hampshire towns pumping hands and asking: "Hello, Pete McCloskey, do you have any questions for a fellow running for President?" When he gets a question, he often answers in such time-consuming detail that his aides' plans for the day are wrecked. The charge that his campaign is well-meaning but futile enrages him. "You're damn right it's an exercise in earnestness," he says. "If political debate is worth anything in this country, I hope it is an exercise in earnestness."

Laudably, both Ashbrook and McCloskey are trying to raise issues that deeply concern them. That does not get them much visibility. In towns McCloskey has visited three and four times, people still ask reporters: "Who was that? McCloskey? What's he running for?" After quick introductions, one gas-station attendant asked Ashbrook: "What brings you up to this neck of the woods?" Ashbrook's purpose was explained. The stolid Yankee reply: "Oh, really?"

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