White House Face-Off

Jimmy says the race is over. No, it is not, says Teddy

A the long, black Lincoln Continenal pulled up to the West Wing of the White House last week, presidential staff members gathered on the lawn and crowded onto the balconies of the adjacent old Executive Office Building. The occasion had all the drama of a summit conference, and, in a sense, that is what it was: Senator Edward Kennedy, wearing a diplomat's dark blue suit, had come calling on President Jimmy Carter. For the first time in their bitter, seven-month contest for the Democratic presidential nomination, the candidates were meeting face to face.

By the rules of political tradition --and common sense--the purpose of Kennedy's visit should have been peacemaking. The President, though battered by the deepening recession, had won 24 primaries to Kennedy's ten. Carter had collected 1,964 delegates, 298 more than he needs for a first-ballot nomination at the Democratic National Convention in August and 725 more than Kennedy's total. The latest Gallup poll showed that 60% of the Democrats, however reluctantly, preferred Carter to Kennedy as their nominee for President. But when the Senator emerged 54 minutes later from the Oval Office, he declared with a broad smile that the struggle was not over. "I have every intention of continuing in this campaign as a candidate," he said. "I am planning to be the nominee."

At a brief meeting with reporters in the White House, Carter added to the air of unreality by insisting that his tense meeting with Kennedy had been a step toward "unity." But even the President seemed puzzled by Kennedy's behavior. Said Carter: "I am convinced that I will be nominated, and he is not convinced of that fact yet." Then, with a note of wonderment in his voice, the President added: "I pointed out to him, and he agreed, that the primary season is now over."

It had, in fact, ended two days earlier on "Super Tuesday," when 696 delegates, 20% of the total, were chosen at primaries in eight states. Ironically for Kennedy, it turned out to be the best week of his campaign. He won five of the contests, including two of the three most important, in California and New Jersey; Carter carried the third big state, Ohio. In all, Kennedy won 53% of the delegates at stake. Yet even as Carter suffered his worst defeats of the campaign, he still picked up 321 delegates, far more than he needed to sew up the nomination.

In anticipation of that victory, Carter last month ordered aides to stop speaking disparagingly of Kennedy and to take conciliatory steps that might make the Senator an ally in the campaign against Ronald Reagan. Thus there was no response when Kennedy attacked Carter as a "clone of Ronald Reagan" and said that the Administration's economic policies were "alien to everything the Democratic Party stands for." Rosalynn Carter's anger vibrated through the White House corridors when Joan Kennedy archly told a reporter that she was better equipped than Rosalynn for life in the White House because she was a "sophisticated lady" and held a master's degree in education. But in obedience to the presidential edict, the slur went unanswered.

On a TV interview just before the final primaries, Carter described his feeling toward Kennedy as "one of respect, one of personal friendship, one of admiration" and said he had "no doubt that Senator Kennedy and I can work harmoniously." At Carter campaign headquarters, above a sleazy strip-tease joint in Washington, top aides sent out peace signals toward the Kennedy camp, located in a former Cadillac showroom. Carter Campaign Chairman Robert Strauss indicated that the President is willing to compromise on nearly every issue in the party platform, with two exceptions: Kennedy's demands for wage and price controls and for gasoline rationing. Even then, Carter is willing to let Kennedy state his position on both issues from the convention floor. In addition, the White House allotted five of the 15 seats on the platform committee to Kennedy stalwarts and named Arizona Congressman Morris Udall, a longtime Kennedy friend and political ally, as the convention's keynote speaker.

But Kennedy defied the peace overtures. On primary night, as several hundred supporters cheered the Senator in his grimy headquarters, the strong showing seemed to fill him with a jubilation bordering on the irrational. Said he: "Tonight is the first night of the rest of the campaign." Then, just as Carter was in effect winning the Democratic nomination, Kennedy heatedly proclaimed: "Democrats from coast to coast were unwilling to concede the nomination to Jimmy Carter, and neither am I."

At first, old friends and supporters concluded that Kennedy had been swept along by the exuberance of the moment. Throughout the campaign, as he lost primary after primary and his chances of ultimate victory faded, he had insisted: "I can add." But Mo Udall, recalling how he himself had agonized after losing the primaries in 1976 before conceding graciously to Carter, thought he understood Kennedy's problem. Said Udall: "It's hard for a guy who is saying harsh things on Monday to stand up and endorse the other fellow on Wednesday. I think he'll come around, but he's pretty well dug in."

That indeed seemed to be the case. When Carter called Tuesday night to offer congratulations, Kennedy's aides said the Senator could not answer because he was "resting." Carter called again four hours later and was told Kennedy was en route to his headquarters. The next morning, Kennedy summoned more than a dozen advisers and family members to his house in McLean, Va., to discuss his next step. His most senior aides, including Political Director Paul Kirk and Campaign Chairman (and brother-in-law) Steve Smith, recommended that he not do anything hasty that would prevent him from eventually withdrawing gracefully. But several younger, more ideological staffers, including Speechwriters Robert Shrum and Carey Parker, urged Kennedy to fight on. After several hours of discussion, with a break for sandwiches, Kennedy made up his mind. Said he: "I'm not getting out under these circumstances." He strode to a telephone and called the White House. Carter said he hoped Kennedy was sufficiently rested. Kennedy proposed that he come to the White House. Perhaps next week, the President thought. The very next day, Kennedy proposed, and the President agreed.

The two men met alone in the Oval Office, at either side of the fireplace. Carter later told aides that he opened the discussion by trying to be conciliatory, congratulating Kennedy on having conducted a "fine campaign." According to Kennedy, reported TIME Correspondent Walter Isaacson, the exchange soon became more heated. Carter complained: "You've had a lot of harsh words to say about me. I know about campaign rhetoric and all, but I have never attacked you personally." In response, Kennedy complained about Carter TV ads questioning his character. Said Kennedy: "I have never attacked you personally. It has always been your policies that I talked about."

The two quickly turned to the main order of business. Kennedy said he was willing to release his delegates from their obligation to vote for him at the convention, but only if Carter would debate him publicly on the main issues. The President suggested that their differences could be settled by the "platform process," which begins this week with hearings in Washington. Kennedy again demanded a debate. Indeed, he repeated this demand several more times during the interview. Kennedy said that he told Carter: "I want substance, not cosmetics. Deals on the platform will not be adequate. It's not a question of you and me working out deals behind closed doors."

Carter refused to debate Kennedy. What happened next was in dispute. According to Kennedy's account, which White House aides emphatically denied, Carter said: "No incumbent President has ever debated a member of his own party." Kennedy retorted that last November, when the polls showed him far ahead of the President, "you were eager to debate." Carter did not respond. Later, according to White House aides, the President asked Kennedy: If there were a debate, would he endorse a Carter-Mondale ticket? This time Kennedy made no response. At the end, Kennedy asked Carter what they should tell the outside world about their meeting. Said the President: "Well, we'll just say we have a difference of opinion."

For Kennedy, the feeling that a debate is of paramount importance stems from his frustration at not being able to get his message across to voters or make the faltering economy the focus of the campaign. After hammering away for months at what he charged was Carter's deliberate policy of raising unemployment to fight inflation, Kennedy would meet people like a laid-off glassworker in West Virginia who told him: "You can't blame Carter. It's not his fault." Reflected Kennedy: "I think this is a numbness that Carter intentionally created by trying to lower expectations of what a President can do. You can look out at an audience and see when you are not making a point. It was more difficult than I thought."

Just how Kennedy will keep on campaigning is a mystery. He faces a severe cash shortage. In the week before Super Tuesday, while he was traveling 14,000 miles to campaign, he had to stop off at a dozen fund raisers to whittle away at his campaign debt, which is close to $1 million. Most likely, in the two months before the convention, he will only try to stay visible. He will advance his economic views at hearings in Washington and at meetings around the country with representatives of the unemployed, the elderly, blacks, Hispanics and others who have been hit hard by the recession. He will give a few major speeches, perhaps on TV if he can raise money for air time. He may even show up at some conventions in the five states that have not yet finished selecting their delegates by the caucus system. But the odds against his wresting the nomination from Carter are overwhelming. Under the Democratic Party's rules, delegates pledged to a candidate must vote for that candidate on the first ballot at the convention. Moreover, the rules permit a candidate to replace any potential defectors among his delegates with staunch supporters.

Old Kennedy associates, including Udall and House Speaker Tip O'Neill, are determined to persuade him to drop out amicably, though not necessarily any time soon. Said Udall: "If he wants to go on, I don't see any great harm. I don't think that anyone should be bludgeoning him to get out." Added O'Neill: "The main thing is that when the convention is over, Kennedy and Carter walk out arm in arm." Still, Kennedy's obsessive insistence on a debate with Carter struck some longtime aides as wrongheaded, even absurd and perhaps damaging to his future with the party. Said one: "The demand for a debate made sense before the primaries were over, but now it doesn't. I don't know why he has stuck to it."

Some Kennedy aides predict that he eventually will close ranks behind Carter, though perhaps not until the convention. Said an adviser: "After all, Ted's a Democrat and Reagan is Reagan." But Carter and his political advisers fear that in the meantime, Kennedy will do considerable damage to Carter's chances of beating Reagan in the fall. As last week's primary voting showed, Carter can ill afford more bloodletting at the hands of fellow Democrats. According to a New York Times-CBS News poll of primary voters in the three largest states, the recession was a major reason for Carter's defeats in California and New Jersey and nearly cost him Ohio. The economy probably will be the chief issue in the fall as well. The Labor Department announced last week that the jobless rate in May climbed to 7.8%; some economists are forecasting unemployment of 10% by Election Day (see ECONOMY & BUSINESS).

But there was even worse news for Carter in the three big primary states. Polls of voters leaving the booths showed that less than half of the Democrats who cast ballots for Carter expect to support him in the fall. Moreover, two-thirds of Kennedy's backers in those states said that they would vote in the election for either Reagan or Independent John Anderson. Their mood was captured by Roy Brown, a food-company executive in Fort Lee, N.J., who declared: "We need a change. Anything would be better than four more years of Jimmy Carter."

Carter professes to welcome his underdog status, maintaining that he has always campaigned best when he is behind. His strategy for Anderson is to ignore him publicly. With Carter's blessing, however, the Democratic National Committee last week set aside $225,000 to hire lawyers who will try to keep Anderson off the ballot in 13 key states, including California, New York and Ohio. Anderson already is on the ballot in Kansas, New Jersey and Utah. For Reagan, Carter has settled on a more aggressive strategy. The President's aides will keep reminding voters this summer about the Californian's more outrageous statements, like his proposal that the U.S. blockade Cuba in retaliation against the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan. Then, come fall, Carter himself will pound away at Reagan as a dangerous extremist.

Carter and his aides will not ignore Kennedy entirely, but they are determined not to waste much time on him. Said a political adviser to the President: "We prefer to work with him, and we are anxious to accommodate him any way we can. But if we cannot, we have no choice but to do it without him."

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