A Tardy SOS to the establishment

Having bypassed the Democratic establishment until now, Jimmy Carter is at last turning to it for help, as TIME National Political Correspondent Robert Ajemian learned. His report:

Jimmy Carter's troubleshooter, the wise and watchful country lawyer Charles Kirbo, sat motionless and listened. He had traveled from Atlanta to Washington to gather complaints and advice about the stalled campaign. There, in Scoop Jackson's office, he went before a dozen Senators--veterans like Fritz Rollings of South Carolina and Abe Ribicoff of Connecticut, and newcomers like Colorado's Gary Hart and Florida's Richard Stone. One of them thought that the gray and silent Kirbo looked like a possum, unmoving and wary. He had brought with him top Carter agents, Landon Butler and Jack Watson, who sat scribbling into note pads.

The Senators shot troubled and challenging questions at Kirbo. Why were phone calls to the Carter headquarters not returned? Why the foolish Playboy interview? Why not put some political heavyweights on the Carter plane? Along with the questions came suggestions. The candidate should spend less time at minor-league stops. He should take on a tougher defense posture. Then the Kirbo trouble squad met with a larger group of Congressmen and the next day visited with delegations from four crucial states: Michigan, Ohio, New York and Pennsylvania.

Everywhere, criticism of the Carter campaign was falling like hail. In Ohio, Democratic State Chairman Paul Tipps was disgusted because no Carter aide had sought his help. In California, State Chairman Charles Manatt said he had never before seen a campaign in which the candidate's agents shut out everybody else. In Illinois, Mayor Richard Daley had twice warned Carter that the campaign was going down the drain --unless he reached out more to the party regulars around the country. These professionals thought they understood the reasons for Carter's separation from the party. His campaign hallmark had been a dogged independence from the Establishment. He wanted to keep his appeal as an outsider who owed no one any favors.

After meeting the legislators, Kirbo sat in a restaurant and mulled over these problems. He was jaunty in a green blazer and did not seem perturbed. Grumblings about a campaign are as inevitable as grease in a garage, he said. He shrugged off many of the complaints --but not all. Said he: "It helps us see the flaws. Jimmy's going to have to keep the pressure on Ford. It might mean a few mistakes, but that can't scare us. If Abe Lincoln hadn't kept shoving, the South might have won the war. His generals all wanted to sit still--the way Ford sits in the White House."

Kirbo is very much aware of the recurring complaint that Carter cannot keep his mouth shut, and, in fact, has urged the candidate to swallow some of his windy and revealing answers. But, he said with some resignation and humor, "That's Jimmy. He'll tell everything. He's come a long way being open. It may be political poison nationally, but it worked in Georgia." Stoic and cheerful as he sounded, Kirbo was a bit depressed, and back in Georgia he showed it--which was surprising for him.

Carter's troubles with organized labor have become well known in Washington. Key union leaders, including even the earliest Carter backers from the United Auto Workers, the Communications Workers, and the State, County and Municipal Employees, are bitter about being ignored. One of the liberal coalition leaders says he is too humiliated even to answer questions about what his union is doing in the campaign; he would rather pretend it is involved. The Carter staff has him baffled. "They are gracious people, quick and smart. We helped them early. I called several times, but I've never heard back." This leader sees a crisis. "Now that they're in trouble, they'll get a lot of desperate ideas. I worry that they don't have the people to make the right choices."

The flimsy quality of Carter's communications with the regulars was sharply illustrated last week. Tim Kraft, his top field director, turned up in the office of Al Barkan, political chief of the AFL-CIO. It was the first time that Kraft had got in touch with him, and Barkan did not even know who he was. After they introduced themselves, Kraft told Barkan that he wanted to begin to update him weekly on the campaign.

Carter strategists last week also overcame their skepticism about the abilities of the Democratic National Committee and sought its help. They asked the DNC to take charge of the get-out-the-vote drive in the most important states, Texas, New York and California, and national Committee workers are being taken aboard to assist Carter's state coordinators in certain shaky locations.

There were other signs that the warnings to Kirbo were being acted on. Late in the week, Ohio regulars said the state organization had finally been tied in with the Carter team. Phone banks were being installed, and Chairman Tipps was sounding optimistic about turning the Ohio slide around. In big trouble, Carter was reaching out very late to his own party. As one of the Senators who met with Kirbo put it: "We have to wrap Carter in the image of the party now. The very Establishment that he ran against may have to pull it out for him."

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