Time - Man of the Year/Time_Man_of_the_Year_Compact_Publishing_3YX-Disc-1_Compact_Publishing_1993.iso/moy/moyfiles/1976moy.001

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                                                                              ╚January 3, 1977

Man of the Year

I'm Jimmy Carter, and . . .



   Just a year ago, he was walking up to men and women who did
not know he existed, shaking their hands and drawling, "I'm
Jimmy Carter, and I'm going to be your next President." The
notion seemed preposterous, and most political professionals
were dead sure he did not have a chance -- but none of the
voters laughed in his face. He was such an engaging man -- a
trifle shy, for all his gall, and there was that sunburst of a
smile that people would always remember. Right from the start,
he was perceived as being a rather different kind of politician
compared with the rest of the field -- as different on
philosophy and tactics, it was to turn out, as in personal
style. He not only knew what he wanted; he also sensed, at least
in the primary elections, what the American people wanted.

   The result was something of a political miracle.

   On Jan. 20 he will place his left palm on the Bible and
raise his right hand. Then, in the now familiar soft and even
tones of south Georgia, Jimmy Carter, 52, will take the oath
that will make him -- just as he was saying all along -- the
39th President of the U.S.

   After all that has been said and written about him during
a long campaign, he is still an enigma to millions of Americans,
including many who voted for him. He is complex and sometimes
contradictory. His creed combines traditionally antithetical
elements of help-the-deprived populism and deny-thyself fiscal
conservatism. A Harris poll last month reported that 61% of
those surveyed expect Carter to be a good or excellent
President. Despite that hope, the people are waiting to be shown
by Jimmy Cater, to see if he really has the wisdom and judgment
and balance needed to succeed in the job that he so eagerly
sought for two exhausting years.

   There are many reasons why Carter's rise stands as such a
remarkable political feat. When he was walking the icy streets
of New Hampshire last January, as many as 40% of the local
people did not even know who he was. He occupied no political
office; his one term as Georgia's Governor had ended in January
1975, and state law kept him from running again. He was the
typical outsider, and it was an axiom of politics that outsiders
-- particularly those from the South -- went nowhere nationally.

   All the axioms were demolished by Carter's flinty
willpower, his almost arrogant self-confidence, his instinct to
ask his listeners to "trust me" and his fetching promise to give
them "a Government as good and as competent and as compassionate
as are the American people." The talk about trust and love
sounded too vague to many. But he was a candidate of the 1970s,
and he knew that the voters were more concerned about the
overriding issue of moral leadership than about the big-spending
liberal programs of the 1960s. He did more than just defeat a
dozen other Democrats, most of them Senators and Governors, who
were better known and had bigger power bases. He also destroyed
forever the hopes of Alabama's George Wallace of rising to
national power -- a possibility already dimmed by the bullet of
a would-be assassin. By showing that a nonracist Southerner
could win a major party nomination, Carter gave new pride to his
region and went far to heal ancient wounds.

   The triumphs of spring nearly turned into defeat in the
fall. Matched against President Ford, Carter's touch was
uncertain, his demeanor occasionally strident, and his 33-point
lead in the polls melted to nothing. Fighting courageously, Ford
came close to pulling a Trumanesque upset. But all along Carter
had said calmly, "I do not intend to lose." In the end, of
course, he won by 51% to 48%; his plurality of 1,681,417 in the
popular vote was far greater than the winning margins of John
Kennedy in 1960 and Richard Nixon in 1968. The Democratic Party
was Carter's, as well as the White House. Because of his
impressive rise to power, because of the new phase he marks in
American life, and because of the great anticipations that
surround him, James Earl Carter Jr. is TIME's Man of the Year.

   The new President takes over at a particularly challenging
time, one of those turning points in U.S. history that seem to
be occurring at shorter and shorter intervals. After the
banishment of Richard Nixon, the decent, solid and forthright
Gerald Ford --  to his everlasting credit -- did much to restore
faith and confidence in Government and to curb inflation. But
he did little to grapple with the nation's other problems. The
U.S. is still moving into the post-Viet Nam and post-Watergate
era, still struggling to recover from a deep recession.
Revitalizing the economy, of course, will be Carter's immediate
problem, but there are others -- racial relations, Government
reorganization, energy, welfare, health care -- demanding fresh
and strong leadership. To provide that, Carter will have to
surmount the continuing doubts about himself, arbitrate the
increasingly insistent demands of competing constituencies and
establish himself as a President who can inspire Americans to be
as good as he maintains they really are.

   While Carter has a long was to go to prove himself, his
coming to power overshadowed all other developments in 1976, the
year of the Bicentennial. The U.S. gave itself a glorious
birthday party -- climaxed forever in the mind's eye by the
vision of the tall ships ghosting up New York Harbor. There was
also a valid occasion for some old-fashioned Yankee Doodle
pride. For the first time in the 75-year history of the honors,
all of the Nobel Prizes went to Americans -- six men won or
shared the science awards, and Saul Bellow capped a
distinguished career of 32 years by winning the nomination for
literature.

   In the world at large, China's Hua Kuo-feng, a moderate,
aborted a prospective coup by radicals and succeeded Chairman
Mao Tse-tung, whose death at 82 posed the classic problem of
power transfer in a totalitarian nation. In the Middle East,
Syrian President Hafez Assad gained new stature by forcibly
bringing to a halt the civil war in Lebanon involving rightist
Christians, left-wing Moslems, and their Palestinian allies.
Seriously set back, and at least temporarily under control of
Arab moderates, the Palestine Liberation Organization seemed
more amenable to making compromises at a new Geneva conference
to end the age-old feuds between Arab and Jew.

   There remains bitter opposition, but the year saw the
beginning of the end of white dominance in southern Africa.
Rhodesian Prime Minister Ian Smith, 57, finally bowed to the
inevitable and agreed in principle to transfer power in two
years to the blacks, who outnumber the whites 22 to 1. Smith
would never have given in without the pressure of Henry
Kissinger, who made a valiant mission to a continent that he
had long neglected. As the colorful and controversial Kissinger
cleared out his office, he seemed already to rank among the
greatest Secretaries of State.

   For most of Europe, 1976 was a year of disappointment and
frustration. As Britain and its once proud pound continued to
slump, Labor Prime Minister James Callaghan began talking like
a Tory; he urged the trade unions to ease off on wage demands
and ordered cuts in costly social services. Italy's Communists
under Enrico Berlinguer came closer to entering the government
by increasing their vote from 27% to 34%, while the tired
Christian Democrats held steady at 39%.

   Despite all the gloomy news from Europe, West Germany --
by hard work and sensible policies of free enterprise -- widened
its lead as the Continent's dominant economic power. Spain held
its first free vote in 40 years; encouraged by popular King Juan
Carlos, 94% of the voters approved a reform bill calling for the
election of a bicameral legislature this spring. In Northern
Ireland, Betty Williams, 33, and Mairead Corrigan, 32, both
Catholics, won the admiration of the world by ignoring death
threats and leading thousands of women, Protestants and
Catholics alike, in massive demonstrations for peace.

   Struggling with their own problems, world leaders watched
closely -- and occasionally with understandable bewilderment
-- to see what manner of man they would have to deal with when
the exhausting and uniquely American rite of choosing a
President was finally over. As he often points out, Carter has
had a richly varied career: Annapolis graduate, Navy officer,
nuclear engineer, successful farmer, businessman. Those
experiences may have given him, as he insists, some feeling for
the variety of problems facing the nation. But no President since
Calvin Coolidge has entered the White House with a briefer public
record. (Eisenhower had never held political office, but he had
been a commanding world figure for a decade.) Carter has never
served in any capital larger than Atlanta; four years in the
Georgia Senate, four years as Governor of the nation's 14th
largest state. The questions about him, however, go much deeper
than what he has done or not done: they focus on what kind of
man he really is. It is no longer "Jimmy who?" but "Jimmy what?"

   The doubts persist, although he is remarkably open and has
been unusually accessible to journalists. Asked why people still
have trouble figuring him out, Carter says, "I don't know.
Sometimes I think people look too hard. They're looking for
something that isn't there. I don't really think I'm that
complex. I'm pretty much what I seem to be."

   Still, Carter is fond of quoting Danish Theologian Soren
Kierkegaard that "every man is an exception," a view that
certainly fits him. He has been described with a catalogue of
contradictions: liberal, moderate, conservative, compassionate,
ruthless, soft, tough, a charlatan, a true believer, a defender
of the status quo, a populist Hamlet.

   The continuing concern about Carter stems from the growing
realization that the basic character of the man who sits in the
Oval Office is more important than his views on SALT talks or
any other specific issue. The evidence about Carter is often
perplexing.

   HIS FEELING FOR PEOPLE. Vice President-elect Walter Mondale
admires -- and wishes he could emulate -- Carter's ability to
express warm affection. Carter and his wife hold hands as
naturally in public as though they were on a high school date.
The Georgian has extraordinary empathy with children. During the
campaign, he took time out to talk to grade school kids --
about civics, peanut butter, civil liberties -- and never talked
down to them. Once Carter asked a correspondent about his
family. The reporter mentioned that one of his children was
suffering from an incurable disease -- and turned to see tears
running down Carter's cheeks.

   Yet he can be cool, even with the people who are closest
to him. "Jimmy's a hard person to get to know," admits Top Aide
Hamilton Jordan. Says another: "His insides are made of twisted
steel cable." He is notorious for not thanking staffers for
their 18-hour days, and a harsh streak occasionally surfaces.
When Hubert Humphrey was thinking of jumping into the primaries,
Carter said that the Senator, then 64, was too old to be
President, and, besides, he was a "loser." Later, Carter
apologized for that tasteless crack.

   HIS DRIVE FOR POWER. Carter's charmingly modest demeanor
contrasts sharply with a lifetime of superachieving and his
single-minded drive to reach the presidency. Even Congressman
Andrew Young, a friend and Carter's chosen Ambassador to the
U.N., has been put off at times by the cold way his fellow
Georgian stalked power.

   Carter's determination not only to better but to perfect
himself was instilled by his taskmaster father, known as Mr.
Earl, who put him in the fields at 4 a.m., and whipped him on
six occasions with such thoroughness that Carter vividly recalls
every one. Says he: "My father was very strict with me. But I
loved him very much."

   While still a boy, Carter began planning to escape Plains
by going to Annapolis -- one place where a farm lad with little
cash could get a free education. Afraid that flat feet might
rule him out, he used to stand on Coke bottles and roll back
and forth to strengthen his arches. His mother -- the formidable
Miss Lillian -- opened his mind to the world of books and ideas,
and a schoolteacher named Julia Coleman saw the promise in the
youngster and had him struggling gamely through War and Peace
at the age of twelve.

   At Annapolis, Plebe Carter was resolute enough not to sing
Marching Through Georgia as part of the hazing process, no
matter how often or hard his rear end was pummeled. Trying
to reassure one campaign audience that he did not always want
to be President, Carter said, "When I was at Annapolis, the only
thing I wanted to be was Chief of Naval Operations."

   As a young officer, he would not let his sea-sickness
prevent him from standing watch: he simply carried along his
vomit bucket to the bridge of the submarine. He fell under the
spell of Admiral (then Captain) Hyman Rickover, and that
celebrated authoritarian became the second most important male
influence in  his life. It was Rickover who provided the model
of the perfectionist leader, one who seldom handed out
compliments.

   Carter's tenacity is extraordinary. Apparently defeated in
his first try for the state senate in 1962, he fought to prove
ballot-stuffing by the boss of Quitman County, Joe Hurst.
Governor-elect Carl Sanders, among other officials, was
indifferent to Carter's righteous demands, thus fanning his
suspicion of the "vested interests." After Carter won his case
in court, John Pope -- one of his biggest supporters in the
fight -- tried to get his help to land some state insurance
business. Pope recalls, "Jimmy told me in the politest possible
way to get lost." Carter helped send Boss Hurst to jail on a
moonshining charge, and settling another personal score,
defeated Sanders for the governorship in 1970 after a
particularly bitter campaign.

   Even the President-elect's mother was surprised by the
scope of his ambition. Miss Lillian recalls teasingly asking him
one day on 1973, "Whatcha gonna do when you're not Governor?

   "And he said, 'I'm going to run for President.'

   "So I said, 'President of what?'

   "And then," she says, "I realized he wasn't joking. That
little curtain came down over his face, and he said, 'Momma,
I'm going to run for the President of the U.S., and I'm going
to win.'"

   HIS STUBBORNNESS. The obvious danger of such self-
confidence is that President Carter may be unwilling to listen
to advice or compromise when thwarted, as he will inevitably be.
As Governor, Carter condemned his state's legislature as "the
worst in the history of the state" when it refused to pass a
consumer-protection bill that he favored. Although there have
been charges to the contrary, he was a good Governor -- pushing
through government reorganization, establishing a zero-based
budgeting and sensible environmental controls, improving the
prisons, expanding mental health services, greatly increasing
the state's budget surplus with no real rise in taxes. But his
steady scrapping with the legislature hindered him from
accomplishing even more. His stubborn streak also showed during
the primaries, when he refused for two days to apologize for his
notorious "ethnic purity" remark -- and finally did so under
intense pressure from black leaders.

   "I am pretty rigid," Carter admits. "It's been very
difficult for me to compromise when I believe in something
deeply. I generally prefer to take it to the public, to fight
it out to the last vote, and if I go down, I go down in flames."

   HIS USE OF RELIGION. During the primaries, Scoop Jackson
criticized the Baptist deacon for "wearing his religion on his
sleeve." The attack was unfair. Despite jokes that he was taking
his initials too seriously, Carter usually talked about his
personal beliefs only when asked. But he did so with a candor
and self-assurance that was unnerving to some, including
Protestants, who were unfamiliar with the forthright traditions
of Southern evangelicalism.

   After losing the 1966 election for the governorship of
Georgia, he reassessed his life and became a "born-again"
Christian. "The presence of my belief in Christ is the most
important thing in my life," says Carter. "I'm not ashamed of
it." But he stresses that he feels no "special relationship"
with God in politics: "I don't pray to God to let me win an
election. I pray to ask God to let me do the right thing." There
is no evidence that Carter has ever forced his religious views
on anyone. In fact, he does not much care about the religious
affiliations of the people closest to him.

   In the celebrated Playboy interview, when he admitted that
he had "lusted in my heart" after other women, Carter was
explaining that he did not judge other people because he had
felt sinful impulses himself. (Earlier he had said, "I have
never been unfaithful to my wife.") By discussing such a touchy
subject with Playboy, however, Carter was showing judgment that
was at best naive.

   HIS HEDGING ON ISSUES. When Carter proclaimed, "I'll never
tell a lie," he was setting himself up to be measured by a
stiffer standard than any other politician. In fact, he trimmed
or fuzzed no more than other candidates -- including Ford -- but
not much less either. He equivocated on which was the most
important priority in dealing with the economy: first it was
creating new jobs, then it was fighting inflation, then it was
a kind of balance between the two. After meeting with a group
of Catholic bishops, Carter hedged his outright opposition to
any anti-abortion amendment, then quickly switched back again.

   He often states positions in a manner intended to give the
least possible offense to his audience. To a conservative
audience: "We should not withdraw our troops from South Korea,
except on a phased basis." He also has a way of seeming to agree
with an argument -- he smiles, he says, "I understand" -- that
leads people to think he is agreeing with them, thereby raising
false expectations. One of the serious problems of Carter's
presidency may be a tendency to raise expectations too high, to
promise more than he can deliver.

   HIS HYBRID POLITICAL PHILOSOPHY. Carter is a Democrat who
often talks and thinks like a Republican. The former Navy
officer and nuclear engineer is an efficiency expert who values
long-range planning and prides himself on his managerial ability
("I like to run things"). He also considers himself to be a
fiscal conservative, a businessman who has had to meet a payroll,
and he pledges to produce a balanced budget by the end of his
first term. (Carter plans to place his holdings in the family
farm, warehousing and land business in a trust, though its
nature has not yet been decided. In 1975 the firm grossed $2.5
million, and Carter said his net worth was $811,982.09.)

   But if his mind is set on the conservative goals of
efficiency and solvency, his heart belongs to the vibrant
populism that he acquired -- as naturally as his accent -- while
growing up on a south Georgia farm during the Depression. He
stems from 240 years of Southern yeomanry whose natural enemies
were bankers and big landlords. The President-elect recalls the
day in the '30s when Franklin D. Roosevelt's New Deal brought
electricity to his farmhouse outside Plains. Although the
Carters were not poor, they saw the momement as a telling
example of what the Federal Government can do for the needy.

   After the nomination was won, Carter stood beaming in
Madison Square Garden while the band blared out Happy Days Are
Here Again, the same tune he used to hear in the '30s when Mr.
Earl would hitch up a radio to the car battery and the family
would huddle around to listen to F.D.R.'s triumphs. In his
acceptance speech, Carter returned to the themes of populism,
soothing liberals who had doubted him and jarring moderates who
had started to support him. The key passage:

   "Too many have had to suffer at the hands of a political
and economic elite who have shaped decisions and never had to
account for mistakes nor to suffer from injustice. When
unemployment prevails, they never stand in line looking for a
job. When deprivation results from a confused and bewildering
welfare system, they never do without food or clothing or a
place to sleep. When the public schools are inferior or torn by
strife, their children go to exclusive private schools. And when
the bureaucracy is bloated and confused, the powerful always
manage to discover and occupy niches of special influence and
privilege. An unfair tax structure serves their needs. And tight
secrecy always seems to prevent reform."

   That speech pushed Carter too far to the left, and he later
tried to move back toward the middle. But his position in the
political spectrum remained unclear, and he alienated many of
the independents. On Nov. 2 Ford carried white America by a
narrow margin. The Georgian was saved by the Americans who
trusted him most: the blacks. They felt at ease with the white
Southerner who had fought, though vainly, to integrate his
hometown church, and who had put so many blacks into government
at all levels in Georgia. Indeed, they had more faith in Carter
than in white Northern liberals who had taken no risks on their
behalf. Because 87% of the black voters backed him, Carter
carried the election.

   Five weeks later, caught up in the demanding swirl of the
transition, he was asked if the job he was taking on
occasionally seemed overwhelming. "Yes," answered the President-
elect, "but not so much that I would want someone else to do
it."

   The economists and businessmen who have been summoned to
brief him about the economy have been impressed by his cold
concentration. Last month in Plains, he listened to 16 of them
for five hours straight -- with one five-minute bathroom break.
Only water was served. "Before we won, we served Cokes," said
Carter, the closest he came to humor. Reports one participant,
Economist Arthur Okun: "He is totally able to banish anything,
any mortal concerns, like a crick in the backside or thirst or
hunger or anything else." Adds Economist Walter Heller: "We call
him 'Iron Pants.'"

   Discursing economists are resigned to seeing the eyes of
politicians glaze over, but Carter stayed so alert that he
caught the experts in a couple of minor mistakes and raised
questions about them. In terms of intelligence, Heller estimates
Carter would rank among the upper 5% or 10% of graduate students
in top universities. Says Okun: "What struck me is you really
see an engineer's mind at work, not a peanut farmer, not a
Baptist preacher, not a standard politician, but the engineering
and management-science approach."

   As a sound manager, Carter plans to restore the powers of
the Cabinet Secretaries, so badly eroded by Lyndon Johnson and
Richard Nixon. In addition to regular Cabinet meetings, Carter
intends to have smaller groups of Secretaries confer on issues
that cut across departmental lines, such as urban development.
"I'll use the Cabinet very aggressively," he says. "I don't
intend to run the departments from the White House. I'm going
to have a relatively small staff, and I'll trust my Cabinet
members to manage their own departments." Press Secretary Jody
Powell, 33, explains that Carter's organization chart does not
have the White House at the top and everything else below in
descending tiers. "It looks more like a wheel," says Powell,
"with Carter at the hub, the various departments as spokes and
his personal staff around the rim, making contact with the
entire circle and keeping people informed." How this will work,
given Carter's intention to be a "strong, aggressive" President
and his record of making decisions on his own, remains to be
seen.

   It seems more certain that Carter will make good on his
promise of a more modest presidential style. He plans to wear
a blue business suit to his Inaugural, instead of the customary
morning clothes, and, when no formal guests are expected, to don
jeans from time to time while working in the White House. He
may also continue to stay overnight occasionally in private
homes as he travels the U.S. He wants to minimize the use of
Air Force One and to ride in an armored Ford LTD instead of the
bigger and fancier Continental limousine most Presidents have
used.

   Whenever he can, Carter will return to Plains. The change
that sweeps over him when he gets home is actually physical. As
he strides the fields that he knew as a boy, his shoulders slump
as though he were carrying buckets of water, and he walks with
the weary, plodding stride of a plowman.

   His first important act after the Inaugural will be to
pardon all Viet Nam draft resisters. Then he will turn his
attention to the major goals for his Administration, which he
discusses in depth with TIME in an exclusive interview. An
analysis of the nation's problems and Carter's policies:

   THE ECONOMY. Though Carter has decided that the economy
needs both a tax cut and more spending for job-creating
programs, focused on areas of chronic unemployment, he has not
yet determined the size of the package. But it will probably be
about $20 billion, mostly in tax cuts for individuals. He also
may invite corporate and labor leaders to the White House and
urge voluntary restraint, without setting numerical guidelines,
on wage and price increases.

   With tax-cut and spending stimuli, the economy is expected
to grow in 1977 at a moderate rate of just under 5%, moving up
to a fairly brisk 6% or so in the latter part of the year. At
that pace, unemployment would drop from the current 8.1% to just
under 7% at year's end. That would still be far above Carter's
ultimate goal -- he hopes to cut unemployment to 6.5% in 1977
and to 4.5% by 1980. But the economy would certainly be moving
fairly well and starting to generate the extra tax revenues that
Carter says he will need to finance his package of social
benefits.

   GOVERNMENT REORGANIZATION. While Carter can look ahead to
fairly good times in the economy, he faces a tough time
fulfilling his promise to reorganize the Government and reduce
the bureaucracy. As a start, he plans to ask Congress for a
somewhat stronger version of the power to make limited changes
-- subject to veto by the Hill --  that was granted to every
President from Truman to Nixon. Says Carter: "I don't desire to
abolish or create entire departments or to eliminate any members
of the Cabinet without going to Congress for permanent
legislation. But I've got to have the authority to transfer
programs back and forth and to consolidate the control of
programs under one entity in the Government." He is already
considering plans -- which he can carry out without
congressional approval -- to reduce the size of the 485-person
White House staff and to disband superfluous advisory
commissions.

   FOREIGN AFFAIRS. Detente remains the keystone policy, and
Carter intends to try to drive a harder bargain than either
Nixon or Ford. He does not want to continue to give the Russians
the benefits of trade with the U.S. unless they give more on
the political front to ease international tensions. The first
test of the Soviets' intentions will be their performance when
the SALT II talks are resumed (no date has been set up as yet).
Carter hopes to conclude a 10% reduction in the current ceilings
for strategic missiles and heavy bombers. Though the Soviets
publicly insist that they will not make political concessions
in order to increase trade, one Carter adviser says, "Every
indication he's got so far -- mostly indirectly -- is that the
Soviets are very interested in cooperating."

   The President-elect vows to pay much attention to
strengthening ties to traditional U.S. allies -- Western Europe,
Japan, Latin America. Europeans are worried by his on-again,
off-again statements about pulling some U.S. troops out of the
Continent. Not only must he assure a skeptical Europe that he is
firmly committed to NATO, but he must also work to strengthen
the alliance against the continuing and ominous buildup of
Soviet bloc forces. Far more important, he has to face a Western
Europe racked by economic problems and political unrest, with
the left rising fast.

   DEFENSE. Former Submariner Carter is pledged to reducing
defense costs by $5 billion to $7 billion without specifying
how or where, though he has often spoken of "tighter management
and elimination of waste." He probably can safely pare some $5
billion from Ford's proposed defense budget for fiscal 1978,
which is expected to be about $125 billion, v. the $108.8
billion appropriated by Congress for the current year. Half of
that total is in personnel costs, and the President-elect most
probably will trim away at them.

   These savings are Pentagon nickels and dimes compared with
the sums involved in one of the key decisions immediately facing
Carter: whether or not to build the supersonic B-1 bomber, at
a projected cost of $22.9 billion for a fleet of 244. Ford has
ordered production to start on the first three, but Carter can
scrap that plan any time in the first half of 1977. During the
campaign he opposed production of the B-1 "at this time" but
wanted R. and D. to continue while he rethought the future need
for manned bombers. His decision will shape the U.S. deterrent
mix -- bombers, missiles, submarines -- until close to the end
of the century.

   THE ENVIRONMENT. A dedicated conservationist, Carter
advocates stricter controls on strip mining and nuclear power
plants, as well as on air and water pollution. He has promised
to speak out against new industrial developments if they
significantly damage the environment. Sample: "If there is ever
a conflict, I will go for beauty, clean air, water and
landscape." Trouble is, Carter's fervor on these points will
conflict in part with his goal of developing U.S. energy
sources, and he will have to make some tough choices.

   SOCIAL WELFARE. Carter insists that he will meet all of his
campaign promises and initiate at least the beginnings of plans
to reform the welfare system, stimulate housing and create a
comprehensive national health insurance program. In addition,
he talks confidently of getting Congress to pass a tax reform
bill that would make the code, in his view, fairer and simpler.

   He is not yet willing to spell out the details of his
proposals, nor does he elaborate on how he will finance them
without endangering his goal of working toward a balanced budget
by 1980. Indeed, Carter gave congressional leaders the distinct
impression last month that he would not be pushing for expensive
new programs in his first year, a prospect that cheered the
conservatives and dismayed the liberals. After the sessions,
House Speaker Tip O'Neill, a liberal who has pledged Carter his
support, was already sounding protective toward the new
President. Said he: "We'll have to give him time."

   Once again, Carter may have confused his listeners -- or
talked in such general terms that they heard what they wanted
to hear.

   To woo Congress, Carter is considering setting up an office
in the Capitol and dropping by from time to time. And, very
politely, he has threatened to go over their heads and put
pressure on them back home if they do not cooperate with him.
"I can get to your constituents quicker than you can by going
on television," he said last month -- with a smile, of course.

   The split in Carter's basic creed -- liberal or
conservative? -- is causing problems that were foreshadowed
months ago. When he begins his presidency, Carter will have "the
shortest honeymoon on record," in the view of Henry Graff,
professor of American history at Columbia. Explains Graff: "He
comes to the White House with more commitments publicly uttered
than any recent President. He's going to be attacked for not
doing the things he promised."

   He has already disappointed many of the constituents to
whom he owes the most: the blacks. In particular, they were
upset by his appointment of Atlanta's Griffin Bell as Attorney
General. While not as angry, some prominent white liberals were
also worried. "I don't see any of the freshness he kept talking
about during the campaign," says George Reedy, who was press
secretary to L.B.J. "I get the feeling that we're going to get
Government as usual." Another liberal critic, Yale Historian C.
Vann Woodward, declares: "It is still too early for pessimism,
but it is already too late for optimism."

   On the other side, moderates and conservatives seemed
reassured, pleased by the very acts that unsettled Ralph Nader
and Gloria Steinem. Particularly on Wall Street, bankers and
businessmen were heartened by Carter's selection of well-known
Democratic moderates to the top economic jobs. Says Dallas
Oilman Ray Hunt, son of the late archconservative H.L. Hunt:
"If Carter is willing to take the flack, he can accomplish more
than any Republican on business questions, just like Johnson,
the Southerner, accomplished a lot on civil rights, and Nixon
the conservative, accomplished a lot in dealing with the
Communists."

   The actions of the Democratic President-elect have not
alarmed Ronald Reagan. "Sometimes," he concedes, "I've heard
some familiar-sounding phrases." But, he adds, "I don't know
what to think. I'm just waiting to see which Carter stands up."
It is conceivable that Carter will be able to rise above the
conventional left-right categories, somewhat like California's
Governor Jerry Brown, and run a pragmatic Administration with
a liberal-conservative mix. But the burden of proof is very much
on him.

   As he searched for Cabinet appointees, Carter seemed at
times hesitant and frustrated -- disconcertingly out of
character. His lack of ties to Washington and the party
establishment -- qualities that helped raise him to the White
House -- carry potential dangers. He does not know the Federal
Government or the pressures it creates. He does not really know
the politicians whom he will need to help him run the country,
and it is far from clear how his temper and his ego will stand
up under probable battles with Congress, the clamorous interest
groups and the press.

   But Carter also begins with many factors in his favor,
beyond his intelligence and tenacity. Reports TIME's Washington
bureau chief, Hugh Sidey: "He does not come to power shaded by
a folk hero, as John Kennedy did, and there is no immediate
international or national crisis to make or break him in his
first few months. He is not the result of back-room manipulation
at the convention. He wanted to be President, and he won it with
desperately hard work and excellent planning."

   Washington is eagerly -- and anxiously -- waiting for the
arrival of Jimmy Carter. "This is going to be the most
interesting presidency I have ever witnessed," says Clark
Clifford, 70, the Washington lawyer who has been a confidant of
Presidents since Harry Truman's day. Clifford claims to see the
definite possibility of greatness in Carter because he is
unquestionably brainy, determined and dedicated. Another
Washington figure professes he is not dismayed by the Georgian's
uncertain transition. "I will give President Carter the benefit
of every doubt until we see the performance," says President
Gerald Ford.

   After following Carter for 16 months, TIME Correspondent
Cloud is still fascinated by his complexities: "My own view is
that he will either be one of the greatest Presidents of the
modern era, or that he will be a complete failure. I see no
middle ground for him, no mediocrity. He often described his
vision of America as a 'beautiful mosaic' of almost infinite
colors and facets. Presidents don't normally talk that way.
They don't normally cry in front of reporters. They don't
normally blast some political opponent one day and apologize
publicly the next. Presidents don't normally do a lot of things
Jimmy Carter does. Therein lies his mystery. Therein lies his
potential for greatness -- or the possibility of disaster."

   In November the American people stilled the doubts that
they had about Jimmy Carter and picked him over a decent and
capable man because, essentially, he stood for change and a
fresh beginning. "I'll try never to disappoint you," he used to
say on the campaign trail, smiling confidently and looking ahead
to the day he would be in the White House. That may be the
hardest of all his promises to fulfill.