Jimmy's Party in Memphis

A half-time pep rally for the Democrats

When his ratings in the polls were low earlier this year, Jimmy Carter looked at the scheduled Democratic midterm convention with considerable apprehension. He had reluctantly agreed in the heat of the 1976 election battle to organize last week's gathering as a gesture to win support from liberals. Carter had never been much of a party man, and during the campaign had made a point of stressing his independence from the Democratic organization. During his first year in office, he remained an outsider and commanded little respect within party ranks.

But Carter's standing with the public--and partly as a result, with his party--is much improved. When he stepped up to deliver his speech at Cook Convention Center in Memphis, he received a warm welcome from close to 4,000 Democrats. After a blistering attack on the Republicans and the Nixon Administration, Carter said: "We Democrats pledged to have a Government as good as the American people, and that is what we are doing." He added: "Ours is a party of practical dreamers." National Democratic Chairman John White added some effusive words of his own to the party's executive committee: "Jimmy Carter, more than any other President I have known, is a party President."

But beneath the session's cheer, there was an undercurrent of feeling among many Democratic factions that Carter is not really their President. Black leaders have been particularly vocal in their discontent, but it is shared by others: labor, Jews, intellectuals, farmers, urban leaders and old-line machine politicians feel a wariness about the man. Says former Iowa Democratic Chairman Clifton Larson: "There is an acceptance after Camp David that he doesn't screw things up, but there is no support for him. The liberals don't want to be identified with the Carter position--or oppose it." Says Buffalo's Joseph Crangle: "His political activity during the recent campaign helped his Democratic Party credentials, but the jury is still out." Edward Campbell, the current chairman in Iowa, complains that Carter seems unable to inspire the party: "Democrats don't have an anti-Carter fix, but they have no leadership, no direction, no emotion. We ought to be looking for an esprit de corps."

Because of the Democrats' lack of enthusiasm for Carter, his political lieutenants, led by Chairman White and Administration Party Liaison Tim Kraft, tried to turn the miniconvention into an exercise in intraparty public relations, a sort of half-time pep rally. They took pains to prevent the gathering from breaking down into a cacophony of dissent, which is always a possibility when Democrats gather. White rigged the rules in an attempt to minimize debates on resolutions critical of Carter. But on the eve of the convention he made concessions to liberal groups, led by lameduck Minnesota Congressman Don Fraser and UAW President Douglas Fraser, to allow several dissident resolutions to get a full airing on Sunday. The 23 official resolutions that were intended as the convention's centerpiece had been approved a week in advance by the White-picked Committee on Conference Procedure.

Even the potentially divisive issue of national health insurance was defused. Senator Ted Kennedy has been forcefully advocating mandatory national health insurance since 1971. But he agreed to play down his opposition to Carter's less ambitious approach if the Administration would reaffirm its commitment to the 1976 party platform's broad goal of a "comprehensive national health insurance system with universal and mandatory coverage" at some unspecified date in the future. One of the dissident resolutions, however, called for immediate enactment of an insurance program. In an effort to blunt that resolution, representatives of Kennedy and the Administration worked out a further compromise calling on the incoming Congress to begin phasing in a health plan.

For Carter, the convention's chief value was the opportunity that it gave him to explain, promote and in some cases defend his policies. Particularly crucial for the President is winning Democrats' support for the unpopular spending cuts he feels must be made in the 1980 budget to help control inflation. "We will balance those sacrifices fairly," he promised. "If we err in this balance, it will be on the side of those who are most in need."

In a sense, Carter's tenuous hold on his party was illustrated best by the Democrats who did not show up in Memphis. Said D.N.C. Issues Coordinator Elaine Kamarck: "Our turndown list reads like a Who's Who of American politics." Senator Edmund Muskie decided to Christmas shop in Washington. New York Senator Daniel Moynihan and Florida Senator Richard Stone sent regrets. So did Colorado Party Head Sheila Kowal, who complained: "It seems strange that the party leaders should be putting so much money into a rally when they couldn't help us during the campaign." (The convention cost $650,000, even though delegates had to pay their own travel and hotel bills.) Other prominent no-shows:

Washington Senator Scoop Jackson, California Governor Jerry Brown and AFL-CIO Secretary-Treasurer Lane Kirkland. Those who sent regrets, however, should have no regrets about having missed a whiz-bang show; the convention was exceptionally dull.

Despite the no-shows, Carter's standing in his party was secure enough for him to go to Memphis, if not triumphantly, at least without fear. Says Minnesota Party Chairman Rick Scott: "It's almost like having a fair in the Middle Ages. Just having the event and bringing people together makes it important." The liberals upset about budget cuts realize Carter is in step with the public's antispending mood. Says Party Veteran Alan Baron: "Liberals read election returns, and they are scared." The result is a tenuous unity, which for the usually bickering Democrats can be a fit cause for celebration.

This file is automatically generated by a robot program, so viewer discretion is required.