He Won't Be "Eaten Alive"

Muskie's aim: to forge a foreign policy consensus

The man Jimmy Carter wants as his new Secretary of State, not surprisingly, disagrees with his predecessor on the issue that precipitated Vance's departure --the aborted raid to rescue the hostages. "I'd be disappointed if that option had not been explored and tried if feasible," says Ed Muskie. But he adds that he does not feel "comfortable" with the military options and believes the side effects entail "pretty high risks." Though he has no exact formula as yet, the Senator from Maine would like to offer Iran some incentives to surrender the hostages--what he calls "a carrot as well as a stick."

Muskie told TIME Congressional Correspondent Neil MacNeil: "In terms of the violation of international are entitled to nothing. We could be involved in this kind of standoff for the indefinite future unless, without submitting to blackmail, we can put together a package that builds on the pressures they must feel--the internal fragmentation, their worsening economy, the incursions on their borders."

Muskie is appalled by the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan. "The Soviet Union [must] know and understand that we must resist and object in the strongest terms to their policy of intervention." But he adds that "we have to have constant communications, action and reaction, until both sides have a clear perception of how the other side stands. I don't think it means you have to go around saber rattling or missile rattling. It's to our mutual interest to reach an agreement on nuclear arms and to find a way to live on this planet together." Muskie may soon be talking to the Soviets; plans are being discussed for a meeting with Foreign Minister Andrei Gromyko in Vienna in mid-May.

Though he plans to "walk carefully and not step on anyone's toes," Muskie is determined to be directly involved in policymaking. "The Secretary of State has to be, as far as capacity permits, creative. The problems we face require that ability. I've got to enmesh myself in a lot of details. Ideas are going to be at a premium, and I'm especially going to tap the resources in the State Department."

Above all, Muskie wants to revive a genuine bipartisan foreign policy by working closely with Senate Republicans. "The way to do it, and the way I did it in the Budget Committee, is to make clear to the minority that I am interested in their input. They have to be in on the takeoffs as well as the landings."

One Muskie trait could obstruct a bipartisan policy: his famed, explosive temper, which resembles the thunderous Mandalay dawn. His face reddens, his finger wags, he appears to swell even larger than his imposing 6 ft. 4 in., and then he erupts. But his fellow Senators, even those who have been the target of his wrath, think his temper is manageable. A pinstriped smoothie he may never be, but, says Wisconsin Democrat Gaylord Nelson, "He doesn't become irrational. He's not going to dump a bomb on the Soviet Union and then say: 'Let's negotiate.' And he doesn't stay mad very long." Says Florida Democrat Richard Stone, who has been tongue-lashed by Muskie: "I think he uses his temper. It doesn't use him." Muskie tends to agree: "I do blow my stack," he admits, "but tactfully and strategically. A little righteous indignation at the right time can do wonders."

Muskie's relations with Carter got off to a bad start in the first year of the new Administration. The Senator detonated when Carter abruptly abandoned the Administration's proposal for a $50 income tax rebate to stimulate the economy. The President broke a public promise, charged Muskie, and disappointed people who expected to get the money. The Senator exploded again when Carter announced a hit list of water projects, including the Dickey-Lincoln dam in Maine that Muskie wanted. The President later prudently withdrew the Maine project from his list.

Muskie is unapologetic. "If you're going to shift course," he explains, "you ought to take your friends on the Hill into your confidence. We thought it important he learn that lesson early." But Muskie says he genuinely likes his boss-to-be. "He's got a good mind. He works hard. He doesn't deserve all the harsh treatment he gets. Our personal relationship has always been pleasant."

A foreign policy adviser in the White House declares: "Muskie is a good strong arguer. He also knows how to accept defeat. He's a compromiser in the best sense. He has an innate decency to go along with a good intellectual capacity. He'll be tough with the Soviets, both in getting a deal and sticking to it." Says Carter: "Ed Muskie doesn't have to come to me to make sure I prop him up." He will have enough clout, continued the President, "not to be eaten alive by the State Department bureaucracy before his feet are on the ground."

Muskie is a mixture of Polish combativeness and Yankee taciturnity. The second of six children of an immigrant Polish tailor who settled in Maine, he became a fervent debater in high school in the mill town of Rumford. He went on to graduate from Maine's Bates College and Cornell University Law School. Elected to the Maine house of representatives in 1946, he ran for Governor in 1954 and scored a startling upset in a traditionally Republican state. He got along so well with his Republican-controlled legislature that he was even invited to join the G.O.P., an honor he declined. Again against the odds, he was elected to the U.S. Senate in 1958. He became a skilled legislator with an instinct for timely compromise and a deep knowledge of environmental affairs. He won the ultimate accolade from President Lyndon Johnson: "He's one of the few liberals who's a match for the Southern legislative craftsmen."

Looking for somebody to help heal his savagely divided party, Hubert Humphrey chose Muskie as his running mate in 1968. That decision almost saved the election for Humphrey. Muskie emerged as the star of the campaign because of his Lincolnesque calm and restraint. In 1972 he was considered the Democratic front runner, but he stumbled fatally while campaigning for the New Hampshire primary. Outraged by a charge in the arch-conservative Manchester, N.H., Union Leader that his wife Jane had a penchant for cocktails, Muskie stood in front of the newspaper office in a snowstorm to denounce Publisher William Loeb: "That man doesn't walk, he crawls." The Senator choked up and tears rolled down his cheeks. He claimed he was not weeping, but the damage was done. "It cast a pall over the remainder of our effort," Muskie said later. "We could never quite get over it." He won the New Hampshire primary, but the press decreed that he had not done well enough; ultimately he lost the nomination to George McGovern.

His presidential ambitions behind him, Muskie plunged back into his Senate duties, assuming the chairmanship of the new Budget Committee in 1975. He succeeded in forging a bipartisan coalition that this year, for the first time, produced a balanced budget. He somewhat modified his New Deal liberalism and became more of a fiscal conservative, though he continued to rage at what he considered to be overzealous budget cutters. When 46 Senators tried to limit federal spending in fiscal 1981 to 21% of G.N.P., he revealed that 34 of them had recently voted to breach the budget to provide more funds for veterans' benefits and disability insurance. Oozing sarcasm, Muskie said, "It is encouraging to see that so many of these Senators who refused to pay the price for fiscal discipline just one month ago are now eager to make public demands to end such profligacy." Says Oklahoma Senator Henry Bellmon, ranking Republican on the Budget Committee: "He's an enormously able person, a pragmatist without many ideological hang-ups."

After back surgery in 1977, Muskie began to take life easier at his suburban Washington home, where he lives with Jane and their youngest child Ned; the older four have moved away. Every morning he takes a long walk, and when he can he pedals his Exercycle. In the summer, he commutes to Kennebunk, Me., where he swims in the ocean before breakfast, gardens and sometimes sews, a skill he learned from his father. He says that he has gone as far as he wants to in public life. "I'm never going to run for political office again," he said last week. "All good things must come to an end, and this is the last stop." Yet it is unlikely that he will now slacken his pace. Chances are there will be plenty of Mandalay thunder rolling out of Foggy Bottom.

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