Reagan: 'I Don't Want Another 1964'

As Ronald Reagan's struggle for Republican delegates came under its worst strain, TIME National Political Correspondent Robert Ajemian spoke with the Governor at his Pacific Palisades home. Reports Ajemian:

"I know the President has many inducements to offer these uncommitted delegates," said Ronald Reagan with an easy smile, "and he's offering them." Typically, Reagan sounded affable as he made that blunt accusation. He sat in the long living room of his Pacific Palisades house, jaunty in his Chinese-red slacks and matching sandals. The deep creases in his face and neck gave way to a tanned chest, under his loosened sports shirt, that was as smooth as a young lifeguard's. As Reagan saw it, Gerald Ford's campaign staff has not been above dangling a highway here, a hospital there, a loan from the Small Business Administration. He went on: "I never ask these delegates directly to come out and support me. They've got to decide that on their own."

At the end of his eight-month campaign, Ronald Reagan was very much the way he was at the beginning: the reluctant politician whose words were fiercer than his manner. Win or lose, his candidacy has been extraordinary. He was seen by many as shallow and simplistic and even dangerous. All but a handful of Senators and Congressmen shunned him. He was opposed by nearly every state organization. He had practically no editorial support.

But when it was all over, Reagan--virtually alone--had collected several hundred thousand more votes than the President in contested primaries. The popular explanation was that opponent Ford was dull. But Reagan on his own had surely touched a public nerve. Now, trailing Ford in delegates, he was fighting--in his low-key way--to keep the race alive.

Hard to Capture. The phone rang and Reagan moved into the study to pick it up. It was a return call from South Carolina Governor James Edwards, an ally. Reagan's voice was tentative: "Jim, I don't want to cause any problems, but do you think we could get out that announcement about your uncommitted? It would be a nice boost now." He talked for a while longer about the timing of the announcement and returned, looking pleased.

Nevertheless, the uncommitted are proving hard for Reagan to capture. A couple of weeks ago, he was speaking with his usual polished force to a small cluster of Illinois delegates. As he had done with other uncommitted, Reagan stressed his electability, his better chance of smoking out Jimmy Carter. But the staring faces showed little response. After a painful silence, Reagan went on talking. He told them he was less vulnerable than Ford to Democrats. When he finished, there was no applause, only more silence. Asked if he thought he had won over many of the delegates, Reagan shrugged: "They give so little feedback, it's impossible to tell." For Reagan, the winning orator, the man with the sure sense of the mood of his audiences, the uncommitted are maddeningly tough to read.

He is trying to persuade them to hold off until the roll call, when, he insists, the President will fall short. Reagan feels sure the outcome will not be truly clear until the convention's first ballot. Furthermore, he contends that many of Ford's own delegates are really Reagan supporters who--either because of tradition or because they are afraid of being punished politically--are reluctant to desert the President. Says Reagan, "That's the one argument the delegates always use on me. They're uncomfortable turning against a President." When they see Ford still shy, in Reagan's view, they will abandon him.

A Fast Lead. Reagan staffers have even figured out the psychological benefit of the roll call. The early states like Alabama and Arkansas through California should give Reagan a fast lead of 250-29. He expects to hold an edge of 670-587 until the time the count reaches New York, where a big Ford bloc should lift the President ahead.

Though many Republicans fear that the Kansas City convention will be bitter and bloody, the prevailing view is that the two candidates will keep their tempers, and their followers, under control. "I'm not going to do anything to make this a bloody affair," vows Reagan. "I don't want another 1964."

He has already ordered his staff to make no credentials challenges and has called upon Ford to do the same. He knows that the President's men are in charge of all the convention's key committees, like rules and platform. But he believes the permanent chairman, Arizona Congressman John Rhodes, even though he is a Ford backer, will rule fairly on any floor challenges.

Reagan has already been disillusioned by the stiff-armed treatment he has received from state party officials around the country. He remembers laboring for many of the same people in the past. He says that several of them even urged him to run, promising their support, but then turned against him. A few weeks ago, in Fort Collins, Colo., where he addressed the state convention, Reagan was rudely interrupted by State Chairman Carl Williams, a Ford supporter, and warned that he must finish his speech in two more minutes. While Ford Campaign Manager Rogers Morton, forehead in hand, squirmed in great embarrassment and Reagan delegates roared disapproval, the Governor gave way. Later, in private, he sourly recalled how many times he had come into the state to help raise money.

Though Ford is in charge of the convention machinery, Reagan's hard core of almost 1,100 delegates will give him a virtual veto over most of the proceedings. "I've never seen a convention like this," says a top Ford strategist. "If the President gets nominated, he'll still be boxed in."

The consensus of party professionals is that Ford will make a guarded offer of the vice presidency to Reagan. Reagan finds this a wry irony. "He doesn't have to worry," says the Californian. "I absolutely will never take that job." Reminded that others in the past have abruptly reversed themselves and accepted the second spot, Reagan sounds absolute. "They were all politicians," he says. "I'm not. I know there's a great deal of cynicism about what I say on this, but I want to be believed." He says he intends to stay free to take independent positions. If the convention tries to draft him, he insists he will head it off and refuse.

If Ford tries to buck the mood of the delegates and pick a liberal Northerner, Reagan feels it could tear the convention apart. He personally will oppose such a move. Says he: "It would be a foolish mistake. Ford would lose the South. And a lot of Republicans might not work for him. The balance of the country is in the Sunbelt, and that's where the future of our party is."

This is a main reason, Sunbelter Reagan tells the delegates, that he is the man who can defeat Carter. Reagan is eager to debate the Georgian; he believes he can expose Carter as a straddler on the issues. "Carter is brilliantly clever at obscuring," says Reagan. "When you really pin him down, he is not much different from Hubert Humphrey, just a quieter version. Carter has told us he's going to balance the budget. I want to price out that Democratic platform and see what all those promises are going to cost. I'll uncover him."

Easy Target. "Carter's main objection to Washington," adds Reagan, "is who's there, not what's being done." Reagan thinks Ford will be an easy target for Carter's nonEstablishment approach, for Democratic attacks on Watergate, Nixon and the pardon.

For a moment, in a curious way, Reagan sounded like the man he wants to run against, Jimmy Carter. "The American people are so fair, so ready to sacrifice," he said. "Washington just doesn't know about our people any more. It has lost faith in them."

It was the appealing ring of the outsider. As with Carter, the approach had served Reagan well. He had made some mistakes along the bumpy way. He knows he should have entered more primaries, like Ohio and New Jersey. Now, he told his wife Nancy, it was like sitting in a courtroom and waiting for the jury to come in. But no matter what happened, Reagan felt vindicated by the hard journey. He had not destroyed himself--or his party. He had challenged a President and made it stick.

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