STAMPEDE TO CARTER

Now the choice is down to three--and they are among the most unusual politicians in the nation's history. The next President of the U.S. will be either Jimmy Carter, the one-term Georgia Governor who has had the most spectacular political rise since Wendell Willkie in 1940; or Ronald Reagan, the two-term California Governor who staged the most successful challenge against an incumbent since Theodore Roosevelt took on William Howard Taft in 1912; or Gerald Ford, the longtime Michigan Congressman whom fate, Watergate and the 25th Amendment propelled into the Oval Office. Their status as survivors tells much about the changing state of the nation, the political parties and the voters' mood.

For all their obvious differences of personality and policy, even their critics concede that all three are decent, honest and experienced. On most matters they are moderate men. None calls for severely chopping the defense budget or taking any extreme actions on the economy; though Reagan has made some by-jingo statements, he does not want to declare Cold War II. To a nation that is suspicious of Big Government, wary of grandiose programs and weary of taxes, all three finalists promise to shake up the bureaucracy, stunt the growth of Federal spending and generally practice prudence. Thus they reflect the questioning, skeptical mood of the electorate.

Throughout the primaries, the voters repudiated familiar old politicians; Ford's great powers of incumbency could not stop Reagan from bouncing back after successive defeats in the first five primaries. The voters were smitten by fresh faces, unblemished by Washington--not only Carter and Reagan but also, toward the end, by Democrat Jerry Brown. Democratic favorites fell like bowling pins. Henry Jackson, the early front runner, did not even survive the first half of the primary season, and even Carter got a scare at the end. Liberals fared worst of all: the Democrats rejected Fred Harris, Mo Udall, Birch Bayh, Sargent Shriver and Milton Shapp.

That the usually brawling Democrats were uniting behind Carter while Ford and Reagan were still slugging it out among the normally decorous Republicans, showed that the parties were switching roles. The Democrats went through the primary campaign with allegiances divided among 15 candidates--from Harris the portside populist to George Wallace the starboard demagogue. Now they figured that unity would spell victory. They smelled blood because the Republicans were opening their veins like suicidal ancient Romans. The battle between Ford and Reagan is certain to intensify still more after Reagan's near-sweep last week of Missouri at-large delegates (see story page 13).

Carter sewed up the Democratic nomination by winning 218 delegates in the final three primaries last Tuesday, pushing his total then to 1,250. He was clobbered, as expected, by Governor Jerry Brown in California. In a remarkable last-ditch effort by the anyone-but-Carter forces, he was upset in New Jersey by an uncommitted slate pledged to Brown and Hubert Humphrey (Who could resist the offer of two candidates for one vote?). But Carter won big where it counted most--in Ohio, the nation's sixth largest state. Competing against both Udall and Church, Carter carried 52% of the vote, which was twelve points higher than his most optimistic forecasts. Ohio gave him 126 delegates, and that was it.

Endorsements cascaded in. Indeed, the final rush to Carter began even before the Super Bowl votes were counted, and it was led by that shrewd old power broker, Chicago Boss Richard Daley. Carter had long been courting the mayor, often visiting him when he went through Chicago and phoning him every ten days or so. Months ago, Daley told close friends that "what we need is young, fresh blood in the party," and his cronies figured he would ultimately come out for Carter (TIME, March 29). At a press conference last Tuesday afternoon, Daley predicted that Carter would win on the first ballot. Then he added: "This man Carter has fought in every primary, and if he wins in Ohio he'll walk in under his own power. He's got courage. I admire a man who's got courage. He started out months ago, entered into every contest in every state, and he won 'em and he lost 'em, and by God, you have got to admire a guy like that." Daley's clear signal: the time had come for Democrats to rally round Jimmy Carter.

After the Ohio vote came in, Illinois Senator Adlai Stevenson released the 86 delegates that Daley's machine had won for him as a favorite son. George Wallace urged his 168 delegates to support Carter. If all those delegates voted for Carter, he would have the 1,505 needed to nominate. Scoop Jackson and Frank Church were expected to endorse him soon.

Only Hubert Humphrey could hope to stall the stampede to Carter. But just before an 8 a.m. speech on Wednesday, Humphrey made clear to reporters that he would be a nogo. Said he: "I've never been a spoiler in my life." Still, he was urged to hold out by the two leaders of the latest Humphrey-for-President movement, Erie County (Buffalo) Democratic Chief Joseph Crangle and Illinois Congressman Paul Simon. At 1:30 p.m., Humphrey showed them a withdrawal statement. Crangle and Simon asked him to tone it down, to keep the door open a crack. As the three men met, Humphrey got a phone call from unpredictable Jerry Brown. He wanted to join Humphrey in a ninth-inning drive to stop Carter. Humphrey turned him down. At 3 p.m., before TV cameras, Humphrey declared that since Carter "is virtually certain to be our party's nominee, I will not authorize any presidential political activity on my behalf."

Quixotically, Brown continued to fight. Said he: "Jimmy Carter, wherever you are, I'm looking for you. I want to debate you." He improvised plans to travel the country in search of uncommitted delegates--for how long was anybody's guess. As he told reporters before leaving Los Angeles to court support in Louisiana: "This is a campaign that emerges as it flows forward, and each day I'll assess what the realistic possibilities are ... It's hard to tell just what all this means." Then he accused Carter of "all of a sudden doing a flip-flop" because he had accepted endorsements from Wallace and Daley. Asked recently whom he would vote for in November if he were not a candidate, Brown said laconically: "Oh, I don't know. I might not vote at all." Frank Mankiewicz, a Carter fan, cracked that Jerry Brown's performance was "an exercise in gracelessness without pressure."

The vanquished Democrats will be heard from in the future. Many of Carter's confidants speak warmly of Frank Church as a prospective Vice President (see story, page 15). Scoop Jackson also yearns to be Veep but stands much less of a chance. Humphrey would like to succeed retiring Mike Mansfield as Senate majority leader; but Senate Whip Robert Byrd of West Virginia has campaigned tirelessly for that job and has a long lead. Udall would like to compete for the Senate in 1980. The brightest future seems to belong to Jerry Brown, whose lower-thy-expec-tations lines turn on the voters. Unless they weary of his above-it-all vagueness, he may well run for President in 1980 or 1984, when he will be only 46.

But for George Wallace, the twelve-year quest for the presidency was over, laid to rest by Jimmy Carter. When he flew into Los Angeles for a last harrumph just before the California primary, only a pitiful handful of diehards greeted him. Time had passed him by, but he liked to think that the other candidates had caught up with him. Wallace told TIME Atlanta Bureau Chief James Bell: "Listen to what even candidates like Church and the rest say about welfare and tax reform, busing and Big Government, the bureaucracy and wasteful foreign aid and crime in the streets." Does he plan to run for the Senate seat that Alabama's John Sparkman is expected to vacate in 1978? Replied Wallace: "I hope to still be in politics. If I go up there, you can be sure of one thing. I'm not going to be your average freshman Senator the day they swear me in." Meanwhile, what Wallace wants most is a little respect and a nice, warm reception at the Democratic National Convention, which opens July 12 in New York City. Given the Democrats' victory-through-unity mood, he'll probably get it.

Jimmy Carter celebrated his triumph by going home to Plains, Ga. He figured that he had made 2,050 speeches in the past 6 1/2 months, "and I'm tired." At least 1,000 people came from miles around, danced in the streets of the small town, hummed and clapped with a spiritual group that sang from the train platform and waited to greet Jimmy as he arrived at 1:30 on the morning after the Super Bowl. Then he got up on the train platform and spoke under a three-quarter moon:

"I've met a lot of folks around the country--people just like us, people who know what it means to have to work for a living, who live close to one another, who have deep religious faith, who love their schools, who want to see their kids have a better chance in life than we have, who love this country, who have been disappointed at some of the things that have happened here, who want to see it better, who want to see us correct our mistakes, who want to see the divisions that have existed, sometimes, among us eliminated once and for all, and who look back 200 years ago and try to understand what the founders of our nation dreamed about--and make those dreams come true."

The remarkable rise of Jimmy Carter, 51, an impressive, complex and sometimes difficult man, was the result of a campaign effort that is already considered a classic and will be studied for years to come. He began planning his run while in the Georgia statehouse in 1972, helped by only a few close associates. By late 1974, Carter, Campaign Manager Hamilton Jordan and the rest reckoned that the other candidates would not run in all the primaries but would carefully pick and choose, trying to save energy and money to make a splash in the last state elections. Recalls Jordan of the most important policy decision: "We decided to take exactly the opposite course. We would run everywhere and go for broke early. Of course, we had to do that anyway, since we were unknown and had to establish ourselves in the earlier primaries."

Carter and his country-shrewd thinkers knew that he needed to accomplish three goals in the primaries: 1) score an early victory in the North to earn his credentials as a national candidate; 2) beat Wallace in the South; 3) then win one or two large Northern industrial states to "nail it down," as Jordan says. With that in mind, Carter focused on four or five key primaries. They were New Hampshire (first and Northern), Florida (a Southern state where Wallace was vulnerable), Pennsylvania and Ohio (key industrial states) and possibly California (the biggest). The strategy changed only slightly; when Jerry Brown entered the race last March, Carter recognized that he could not win California. Otherwise he stuck to the plan, pouring most of his money, time and organization into the target states --all of which he won. By the time he beat Scoop Jackson and Morris Udall in Pennsylvania in late April, Carter had eliminated most of his early--and better-known--opponents.

How did he do it?

First, he and the inspired novices around him had great organizational skill. In keeping with his 1972 plan, he made a major drive in the Iowa caucus in January, the first test of 1976. He organized the state county by county, district by district, and scored a victory that gained national headlines. In New Hampshire, Carter did not want to be tagged as the front runner, so his men helped propagate the myth that Mo Udall had the best organization there. In fact, Carter held that distinction; by last September he had extensive card files on New Hampshire voters. His victory gained greater attention because it appeared to be a come-from-behind win.

Second, Carter had luck. Other candidates stayed out of Florida, and former Governor Terry Sanford dropped out before the North Carolina primary, helping Carter to beat Wallace in both. By proving that a moderate Southerner could top Wallace in Dixie, those two early victories gained Carter much support among liberals and showed that, in Teddy Kennedy's words, Carter deserved a place on the Democratic ticket, at least as Veep.

Third, he presented himself as an optimistic, healing, Godfearing man who believed in America and could bind up the nation's wounds. Audiences responded warmly, if not emotionally, to his basic speech that the Government ought to be as good as the American people are. And his message was that all Americans--welfare recipients and welfare workers, black civil rights activists and white segregationists, hardhats and students--are good people. Despite opponents' criticisms that he was two-faced, he almost invariably took the same stand before all audiences. He might fuzz his position on some issues, or omit Martin Luther King's name from a list of great Americans as he spoke before conservatives in Florida, but his basic themes were consistent. They were also upbeat and positive.

He had something to offer for conservatives and liberals alike. Conservative audiences liked to hear him say that there are 1.1 million welfare recipients who are able to work and ought to be trained for and offered a job. "If they refuse it," he added, "they ought to be taken off welfare altogether." Conservatives always applauded that line--and usually missed the very next line, which Carter invariably added. He said that fully 90% of the people on welfare were not able to work, and they "should be treated with decency and respect and love and compassion."

Carter also tended to frame his stands on hot issues in ways that had broad appeal. He drew a distinction between amnesty for Viet Nam draft evaders and the "full pardon" that he promised to grant in the first week of his Administration. Amnesty, he said, implied that draft evasion was all right, while a pardon merely granted forgiveness. He thus brought audiences around to accepting the idea of a pardon. In fact and in law, however, amnesty does not imply approval. Reminded of this by a TIME correspondent last week, Carter smiled and rather archly said: "I'll define the word any way that suits me."

Fourth, black audiences in particular responded to this Georgian. More than most whites, they were moved by his appeals for "love" and "decency." Almost everywhere, blacks voted for Carter by overwhelming margins. Without them, he would not have turned back Wallace in Florida, or Udall in Wisconsin and Michigan.

Largely because blacks knew that he had an excellent record on civil rights, they rallied to his side after he made his worst gaffe of the campaign, saying some kind words about "ethnic purity" in neighborhoods. Black support helped Carter to surmount that crisis quickly. He took many blacks as counselors, notably Urban League Executive Director Vernon Jordan, and Congressman Andrew Young, who represents a mostly white Atlanta district. When asked recently to whom he owed anything. Carter replied: "Andy Young." The list stopped there. Carter has promised to appoint blacks to Cabinet or sub-Cabinet jobs; if they are willing, Young and Jordan may well be offered high posts in any Carter Administration.

Despite his assets, the front runner came dangerously close to blowing his lead in the final lap. After smashing Favorite Son Lloyd Bentsen in Texas on May Day, he was shocked by six setbacks over the next five weeks. He lost Nebraska, Idaho and Oregon to Church; he dropped Maryland, Nevada and Rhode Island to Brown; he just barely edged Udall in Michigan.

Indeed, at least until Ohio, Carter performed better as David than as Goliath. As soon as he surged out front, voters perceived him to be an "in" member of the political establishment that he had so effectively criticized. He failed to foresee that the two late starters, Brown and Church, would appeal to voters as refreshing newcomers and underdogs. It did not help that Brown, Church and Udall--with Humphrey rooting restlessly from the sidelines--could challenge Carter one-on-one, while he was running everywhere. His opponents won the votes of people who were suspicious of his Southern origin or the depth of his commitment to liberal programs, unions and Israel.

When Carter became the front runner, many voters wanted him to be more explicit on the issues. He attempted to respond by delivering a comprehensive but unexciting foreign policy speech in Chicago, an excellent speech at the United Nations calling for controlling the spread of nuclear arms, a stirring civil rights address in Los Angeles. He said, with considerable exaggeration, that he had position papers "on every conceivable issue." But it was not enough, and the failure to be more explicit cost Carter dearly in the late primaries.

TIME Washington Correspondent Stanley Cloud, who has covered Carter for several months, reports: "Another problem for Carter--and one that will probably persist as the Republicans zero in on him--has been his reputation as a steel-hard, ambitious man for whom winning is the highest value. The description is by no means complete, but there is some truth in it. Carter is a man of striking contradictions. He tirelessly invokes love but can be a tough political infighter. He speaks movingly of the need to help the poor and downtrodden, but he suggests that the solution is to change Government organization and programs. One of his great strengths is that he can appeal to a broad cross section of the American people; but he faces the danger that when he details his positions, many who supported him will feel that they were misled. In particular, conservatives may feel deceived when they discover his basic liberalism, which borders on populism."

Says Carl Sanders, the liberal whom Carter defeated for the Georgia governorship: "Hell, Carter is a lot more liberal than I ever was." Adds Carter with some hyperbole: "My socioeconomic positions are not really different from Mo Udall's."

By locking up the nomination so soon, Carter now has the luxury of time--five months in which to ponder and articulate his policies, bring together his party, pick his people, and plan for the presidency, which the current polls show him winning. Looking to November, his aides figure that he can already reasonably count on 199 of the 270 electoral votes needed to win. They calculate this by figuring that he will carry all the Southern and Border states, plus Massachusetts, Minnesota, Wisconsin and the District of Columbia, which they consider to be reliably Democratic. But to meet this optimistic projection and go beyond it, he still has to persuade millions of Democrats and independents who have yet to be sold on Jimmy Carter.

George McGovern suggested to the Carter staff last week that he would be available to act as a unifier on behalf of the Carter candidacy. McGovern may well give a major speech, stressing the rally-round-Carter theme, at or just before the Democratic Convention. In the days ahead, when Carter meets with former foes, he will probably renew the pledge he made when George Wallace phoned him to bury the hatchet at 2 a.m. last Wednesday: "George, I'll make you the best President this country ever had." Even in the flush of victory, that was quite a statement.

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