An Upstream Swim for the G.O.P

Meeting with Republican Congressmen at the White House last week, the President of the U.S. made a painful confession. As a "political realist." Richard Nixon acknowledged, "I might be a liability and not necessarily an asset in the election."

That was putting it mildly. Throughout much of the nation, whenever they huddle in cloakroom, clubhouse or hotel lobby, Republicans are describing this fall's election prospects as "ominous" and "disastrous." Says a veteran state chairman: "This is the worst situation I've ever seen, and that includes 1936 and 1964. Watergate is having a devastating effect on the recruitment of candidates. Even precinct canvassers have had doors slammed in their faces." Another G.O.P. state chairman laments: "Watergate is a self-fulfilling prophecy. Everybody says it's going to be a bad year for Republicans, so the good candidates who could win won't come forward and the givers don't give."

Voicing concern for his beleaguered party, Senator Barry Goldwater claimed that his private polls showed a drop of 10% in support for G.O.P. candidates who will be running this fall. "If you didn't win by 60% or better," said Barry, "you've got a handful of trouble in this election . . .* If I were running for the first time, I probably wouldn't associate myself with the President."

Staying Alive. The Republicans' problems cannot be blamed entirely on Watergate. Contributing to their doldrums are the energy crisis, the sagging economy, the traditional dissatisfaction with the party in power. But Watergate is prompting some officeholders to retire prematurely rather than face uphill battles for reelection, and dissuading scores of newcomers from running on the G.O.P. ticket. "Even in the safe districts," an Illinois party official admits, "they're shaking hands like mad just to stay alive."

Many Democrats stand to win because they have no opposition, or none to speak of. Last fall, with Ronald Reagan preparing to step down, half a dozen Republicans were thinking of running for Governor. Now there are two. A prominent contender, former Counsellor to the President Robert H. Finch, bowed out last week because he felt that he was too closely identified with Nixon.

To date, no serious G.O.P. opposition has emerged to challenge such Democratic incumbents as California's Senator Alan Cranston, Wisconsin's Senator Gaylord Nelson, Illinois' Senator Adlai E. Stevenson III or Minnesota's Governor Wendell R. Anderson. Only a month before Minnesota's precinct caucuses are to be held, the G.O.P. has no gubernatorial candidate on the horizon. The Democrats are having no such problems. Says Norbert R. Dreiling, the party's state chairman in Kansas: "People who were reluctant to run as sacrificial lambs are now begging for a spot on the ticket."

A dozen Republican Representatives have already announced plans to retire from office in 1974, including no fewer than six ranking minority members of House committees. Rather than face the toughest re-election battle of his career, Illinois Congressman Leslie C. Arends, 78, the party whip and senior Republican in the House, has decided to give up his seat after 39 years; it may be claimed by a Democrat. Iowa Representative H.R. Gross, ranking Republican on the Post Office and Civil Service Committee and a 25-year veteran of the House, is dropping out, as is California's eleven-term Congressman Craig Hosmer. In some cases age is undoubtedly the key factor.

G.O.P. campaign contributions are often as scarce as campaigners. Political Consultant Lyn Nofziger, an ex-Reagan lieutenant, says that when he sought to raise funds for an aspiring candidate, "we got some pretty snotty letters back. They said things like: 'Go get your money from Nixon and Mitchell.' " Warns another California Republican: "The money people all say they're loyal. But when they go to reach in their back pockets, they're going to say 'Am I really going to back this loser?' " John S. Murray, an Iowa State Senator, searched for backing before deciding not to run for the U.S. Senate. "It's like swimming upstream," he laments. "You make a few inches with a lot of effort. People are not giving enough money. For a nonestablished candidate, it's an almost impossible year."

Past G.O.P. contributors resent not only Watergate but also the way in which their funds were handled by the Committee for the Re-Election of the President in 1972. California party officials complain that of the $9 million raised in their state and sent to Washington, only a pittance trickled back to local and statewide races; most was kept for the President's opulent campaign. Ted R. Gamble Jr., a Portland, Ore., businessman who gave $6,000 to the G.O.P. in 1972, plans to keep his money in his pocket this year; none, at any rate, will go out of state. "I am very disturbed at what has happened at the national level," he says, "and I am totally dissatisfied with the lack of accounting we have received for money contributed to various national committees."

In some places, most notably the South, Republicans are relatively unscathed by Watergate. Elsewhere, some Republicans feel secure because they have successfully distanced themselves from the White House. In Massachusetts, Republican Governor Francis W. Sargent does not appear to be in any trouble with the voters because of Watergate. Explains an aide: "Wherever G.O.P. Governors contrast in terms of operating styles with the Nixon Administration, they're doing well."

Congressman William S. Cohen of Maine says that he relies on the "basic independence and pride of New England people not to turn me out of office because of my party affiliation." Congressman Peter A. Peyser, who represents New York's affluent Westchester

County, is confident of re-election because he spoke out early on Watergate. "I urged that the President not spread Executive privilege around long before anyone else," he says. "I called upon him to get rid of Haldeman and Ehrlichman long before they finally left. I urged him to release the tapes when their existence first became known."

Outside the South, many Republicans agree that the best thing that could happen to them is for Nixon to leave of fice. After a special election for California's state senate last month, in which Assemblyman Jerry Lewis was upset by a Democrat in a normally conservative district, the loser's stunned campaign aide said bitterly: "We can't stand this any longer. Nixon has got to step down." The President's removal from the scene, says a G.O.P. campaign official, would "give the voters what they want even more than gas and oil, and that's peace and quiet." Would Vice President Gerald Ford be a satisfactory replacement? "If Ford goes in," says a G.O.P. official, "he would generate a whole new spirit in the party."

Some Republicans, seeking consolation, argue that Watergate has left all politicians in bad odor. "People are so fed up," says New Hampshire's Senator Norris Cotton, "we've fallen behind used-car salesmen, and in view of recent court decisions, it looks like the homosexuals will soon be ahead of us."

*In the House, nearly 70 of the 191 G.O.P. members won with less than 60% of the vote in 1972. In the Senate. 13 of the 16 Republican seats at stake next November were won with under 60%.

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