TIME: Almanac 1993/TIME Almanac 1993.iso/time/election/68elect/68elect.008

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                                                                                May 3, 1968

THE NATION

The Once & Future Humphrey


     The time has come to speak out on behalf of America -- not
a nation that has lost its way, but a restless people striving
to find a better way.

     On that characteristically upbeat note, Hubert Horatio
Humphrey volunteered last week to serve his nation as chief
pathfinder. Eight years ago, he was the first to announce for
the Democratic presidential nomination and the first to be
eliminated, long before the convention. Now he is the third,
and probably the last, entry in a far more bitter contest. This
time, no one doubts that he has the strength to battle it out
to the end next August.

     The onetime druggist's prescription for his troubled party
and nation is conciliation and unity. "We seek an America of
one spirit," Humphrey said. "The time has come to express a new
American patriotism." Out in the open, running for himself
again, he radiated all the old Humphrey solar energy. He will
need it.

     His Own man. Apart from Robert Kennedy and Eugene McCarthy,
Humphrey has history against him: no Vice President has
succeeded to the White House by the elective process since
Martin Van Buren turned the trick in 1836. Humphrey is
undismayed. Despite his relationship with Lyndon Johnson and his
manful attempt to avoid the lassitude of his office, Humphrey
inevitably found the vice-presidency frustrating and confining.
"One of the most awkward offices ever created by the hand of
man," he once said. "It is an unnatural role for an active
politician."

     Even before his formal announcement, it was back to nature
for Humphrey last week, and his own nature is to dream big
dreams, to spin off grand ideas, to talk persuasively in his
own behalf. While repeatedly paying homage to Johnson and the
"Johnson-Humphrey Administration's record," he is now investing
most of his oratorical capital in what lies beyond. He sorely
needs to establish a personal identity again. "I am my own
man," he told a West Virginia television audience. "I am my own
personality with all its limitations."

     HAPPINESS IS H.H.H. declared the posters at the Marshall
University field house, and H.H.H. had reason for happiness in
West Virginia. There, where his 1960 candidacy collapsed in an
ignominious primary defeat, he was warmly welcomed last week,
by politicians and students, and stands to collect most of the
state's delegates without going through a primary.

     Overspoken. In New York City, he sketched briefly a
post-Vietnam foreign policy that envisioned "open doors rather
than iron curtains," the "building of peaceful bridges," toward
Communist China, new efforts toward arms control, multilateral
development programs for the hungry nations. To those who accuse
the U.S. of "arrogance of power," he replied that America has
nothing to apologize for; yet he used none of the hyperbolic
terms that have marked some of his foreign policy pronouncements
in recent years. Later he even acknowledged that perhaps "we
overspoke ourselves" in promising to "go any place, any time"
to negotiate with North Vietnam. While he predicted that
preliminary talks with the Communists would get started "in a
very short time," the delicate diplomatic situation of the
moment gave Humphrey a welcome opportunity to concentrate on
domestic matters.

     Plunging into the South, where as recently as four years
ago local politicians could entertain Humphrey only at the risk
of their careers, he was warmly welcomed at Oxford, Miss., and
Jackson, Tenn. More than 2,000 University of Mississippi
students turned out at 11 p.m. to greet Hubert and Muriel at the
airport. Next morning he presided at a breakfast for 300 white
and black Mississippi leaders -- politicians, businessmen, Negro
leaders, union chiefs. "Can we not be neighbors instead of
strangers in this country?" he demanded of his audience. "The
same nation that learned how to split the atom ought to learn
to split the difference between black and white." On the Ole
Miss campus, he told 4,500 listeners: "I'll take my stand, as
I always have, on equal opportunity -- and that means an
integrated delegation [to the National Democratic Convention]
from Mississippi." He also offered some understanding of the
white South's feeling of persecution: "I know there are a lot
of people who would rather point at you than look in the
mirror." At both appearances he won loud applause.

     "Slumism." At Jackson, where Governor Buford Ellington
greeted him effusively, Humphrey spoke of his hope to "guarantee
every American child an educational minimum wage." This would
include preschool training for all, health and nutritional
services in areas that need it, year-round schooling where
necessary, a high national standard for teachers' salaries.

     A new attack on "slumism," he told TIME Correspondent
Lansing Lamont, was necessary to get rid of "islands of
welfarism." The antipoverty program must be refocused on a few
high-priority needs, such as jobs. He believes some form of
guaranteed annual income is desirable. The artificial divisions
between core cities and their suburbs must be ended.
Alternatives must be found to the dreary "grey cemeteries" of
public housing. "The modern American city must become a cluster
of neighborhoods where the fullness of life is available to
everyone." New relationships between local and federal
governments must be developed.

     For the moment, Humphrey is short on details: he has
months of campaigning in which to elaborate. He promises a
restrained campaign, one that will not infringe on his official
duties. But what is restrained by Humphrey's lights is manic by
most metabolic standards, and the line between politicking and
incumbency may prove too fine for the naked eye. As chairman of
the President's Council on Youth Opportunity and a promoter of
programs to create jobs for Negroes in private enterprise,
Humphrey is already busy announcing expanded plans, among them
a 30% increase in summer jobs for ghetto youths this year, new
factories in Brooklyn and Los Angeles to employ 2,400.
[Humphrey's other official assignments, in addition to being
President of the Senate and a member of the Cabinet and the
National Security Council; liaison man to local governments;
chairman of the President's Council on Physical Fitness and
Sports, the National Council on Marine Resources and
Engineering Development, the Special Task Force on Travel USA;
honorary chairman of the National Advisory Council to the Office
of Economic Opportunity; regents board member of the
Smithsonian Institution; member of the Commission for the
Extension of the U.S. Capitol.] "Whatever we do," he declared,
"more needs to be done."

     Air Force One-and-a-Half. His enjoyment of his new,
liberated role is palpable, his optimism unbounded. He is
starting late and missing the primaries, but he dismisses those
as "spring training, the grapefruit league," necessary only for
those who need to build a national reputation. He has already
visited 600 towns and cities in all 50 states since becoming
Vice President. He will be returning to a lot of them, of
course, and to speed his way he has chartered an imposingly
appointed Boeing 727 that will replace his aging official
Convair. The President flies in Air Force One, the Veep in Two;
Humphrey aides have been calling his plane Air Force
One-and-a-Half for some time. This week he is scheduled to visit
Pennsylvania, Ohio and Illinois.

     He promises to "fight hard" for the nomination. Until
recently, it seemed that no Humphrey fight would be hard
enough. His early reputation as a sectional, dogmatic,
abrasively self- righteous radical evaporated some time ago, to
be replaced by an equally detrimental image as the uncritical
apologist for an unpopular Administration. Many have denounced
him for out- Lyndoning Johnson on the war. Others think that he
is really too nice a guy to run a successful national campaign,
too soft to fire anyone who needs firing. Even his power base
in Minnesota seemed to dissolve. To some it appears that
political evolution is fossilizing his once and future promise.

     In the TV age, he remains a master of the meeting-hall
peroration. At a time when personal political networks count
for more than the traditional party organization, he has none
to speak of. In an era when a fresh face and youthful persona
are worth 1,000 platitudes and millions of votes, Humphrey, who
will be 57 on May 27, is the old man of the competition, in
danger of seeing his many and distinguished accomplishments of
23 years in elective office dissipated by overexposure. Even to
some of his friends, he seems the eternal boy next door, fated
to be jilted again in favor of any sexy corsair passing through
town. Except that this time the rivals -- Senators Kennedy and
McCarthy -- are already in town, assiduously awooing. When
Johnson renounced his candidacy on March 31, the tears that
welled up in Humphrey's eyes could as well have been for himself
as for his chief.

     Forced Pause. Then came April. In this year when political
bettors would be best advised to try the ponies, it was
altogether typical that the expected spring showers of support
for Kennedy never fell. Most indicators, to be sure, showed
Bobby ahead, but his lead is far from decisive. In the Louis
Harris Poll among Democrats, Kennedy actually dropped two points
after Johnson's renunciation, to 37%, and Humphrey came in
second with 24% while his candidacy was still in the open-secret
stage. McCarthy trailed with 22%.

     What was happening -- and not happening -- among
Democratic leaders around the country was more significant than
any single poll. Johnson's sudden pull-out, the new possibility
of Vietnam peace negotiations, the upsurge in popularity for
the Administration, the assassination of Martin Luther King Jr.
and the violence that followed, all combined to force a
political pause. Kennedy and McCarthy, deprived of their most
conspicuous personal target, and with their attacks on Vietnam
policy at least partially undercut, were not in a position to
capitalize on events. But Humphrey was. "The old impetuous
Humphrey," he observed, "would have announced from Mexico City"
(where he learned of Johnson's non-candidacy on radio). Instead,
he bided his time, dropped megahints that he would indeed run,
scouted for allies, tested the air, and found strong breezes
running his way.

     Cocker-Spaniel Cut. TIME correspondents around the country
also detected growing support for the Vice President. Chicago
Bureau Chief Loye Miller reported that out of 14 states surveyed
in the first week of April, significant Humphrey strength was
apparent only in Kentucky, Minnesota and the Dakotas. Last
week's report: "We find that Humphrey's stature and political
delegate strength have multiplied almost magically."

     St. Louis Mayor Alfonso Cervantes explained: "Humphrey has
become seasoned now into a middle-of-the-road candidate.
Businessmen like myself can accept him, and he has enough
imagination and knowledge of social problems to satisfy the
liberals." Both in the South and in the Middle West, Humphrey
was benefiting from animosity toward Kennedy and the belief
that McCarthy, despite his brave performance, was not getting
anywhere.

     Democratic National Committeewoman Maurine Biegert of
Nebraska said Kennedy was now inheriting much of the "hard,
calculating, hatchet-man image" that Johnson had suffered from.
In Kentucky, A.F.L.-C.I.O. Executive Secretary Sam Ezelle
expressed the gut reaction of much of organized labor's
leadership: "We remember how Bobby abused us before the
McClellan Committee. Bobby Kennedy, with his cocker-spaniel
haircut, tries to tell us he's now our friend, but we remember."

     Surprise. An effort to whip Ohio's 215-vote delegation into
a solid Kennedy block has so far failed, and that key state,
like Michigan and Illinois, remains up for grabs by either
Humphrey or Kennedy. In the West, Kennedy is holding his lead
in both California and Oregon, where the last two important
primaries will take place. Impressive victories in these, and
in Indiana and Nebraska, would give Kennedy's campaign a
tremendous lift (Humphrey entered the race too late for
inclusion on any of the presidential-primary ballots). In most
of the smaller Western states, Humphrey seems well ahead in
potential delegate strength.

     Kennedy has been running into problems in the East. Even
in his old and new home states of Massachusetts and New York,
efforts to chip away at his support will probably deprive him
of some votes. The situation in Vermont seems symptomatic of
his slowing momentum. After Governor Philip Hoff declared for
Kennedy, a pro-Humphrey revolt almost cost the Governor his own
seat at the state convention that will select national
delegates. "I'm quite surprised," Hoff said, "at the lack of
support Kennedy has generated in Vermont and in the nation."

     In most of the Southern and border states, Humphrey is the
man to beat -- but neither Kennedy nor McCarthy can do it. The
Vice President may come out of that region alone with 600 votes
or more, nearly half of the 1,312 required to win in Chicago.

     Sudden Centrist. The base of his strength is impressively
wide, in terms of factions as well as geography. He maintains
good relations with farmers and mayors. Organized labor has
already begun missionary work on Humphrey's behalf through the
A.F.L.-C.I.O.'s Committee on Political Education, and many big
businessmen are friendly to the Humphrey cause. For the first
time in his political life, it appears that campaign funds will
not be a problem. And if Kennedy has captured the imagination
and allegiance of many younger, relatively militant Negroes,
Humphrey is still warmly regarded by their elders, who remember
that his crusade for their cause has been unqualified for a
full generation.

     Though there is really little to choose from among the
three candidates on fundamental issues, Humphrey by his tone and
his loyalty to the Administration finds himself the sudden
centrist, able to seek a Democratic coalition potentially as
broad as F.D.R.'s. He is doing so, moreover, without any
disavowal of the libertarian lodestar that led him into politics
in the first place. "The nation needs to be calmed and unified,"
he says. "It needs steady social progress with a minimum of
disorder. I offer leadership based not just on idealism but on
a pragmatic approach to government. I offer the capacity to
blend the different factors of American life into a national
mosaic."

     That many Southern Democratic leaders and Northern
businessmen should want to become part of Humphrey's design
astounds those who remember him as the symbol of ultra-liberal
factionalism. But Humphrey has been more accommodated than
accommodating. Son of a small-town South Dakota pharmacist who
loved politics, people and poetry, he grew up in farm country
where the Depression came early and stayed long. Hubert Horatio
Sr., the "town rebel," the Democratic Chairman of Republican
Spink County who joshed his wife's being "politically
unreliable" (she voted for Harding and Coolidge), the kind of
father who sat Junior on his knee to hear Wilson's Fourteen
Points and who read Bryan's cross-of-gold speech to the family
"at least twice a year," did not bring up his son to espouse
pliable convictions.

     Instant Sword. Young Hubert worked in the drugstore from
the time he was eight, watched hard times take away the family's
home in Doland, was forced to interrupt his political science
education at the University of Minnesota for six years because
of money problems, yet battled his way into Minneapolis'
mayoralty at the age of 34. Thirty years ago, before they went
through their first election, Muriel Buck Humphrey thought her
young husband just might be President one day.

     He erupted at the 1948 Democratic Convention. Having
already achieved enactment of the country's first municipal
fair- employment-practices law, he was determined to commit his
party to a strong civil rights plank. He gave one of the best
speeches of his career, won the debate, and thereby helped
precipitate the Dixiecrat defection.

     That year he also became the first Minnesota Democrat ever
popularly elected to the U.S. Senate. He charged into the
Capitol, flailing with an instant sword at all the accumulated
evils of mankind. Says Senator Clinton Anderson of New Mexico:
"He went too hard in the old days. He was certain that everyone
opposed to him was absolutely wrong. Now he's got tolerance."

     Style v. Substance. But the world has met him more than
halfway. The health program he first proposed in 1949 now exists
as Medicare. Nearly all of the civil rights legislation he
introduced as a very junior Senator went on the books years
later under other men's names. (One of the few significant laws
bearing his name regulated habit-forming drugs.) He has seen
passed into law several other of his ideas that seemed
impossible of fulfillment a dozen years ago, notably the Peace
Corps and the Job Corps. Certainly Humphrey mellowed as he
became more sophisticated and knowledgeable. And with many of
his early legislative goals realized, he has more to be mellow
about. He has achieved a rapport with the business community,
which has itself grown steadily more progressive and
public-spirited in the past decade. In the South, with
increasing integration and growing numbers of Negro voters, the
views that passed as moderate a few years ago are considered
conservative today. Louisiana's Hale Boggs, the House majority
whip, confided to Humphrey recently: "I think we've changed a
lot, and I think you've changed a little."

     Hubert Humphrey's change regarding the South and racial
questions has been one of style, not substance. As an emissary
from the national party, Humphrey last year was willing to
treat with Georgia's segregationist Governor Lester Maddox, who
is oscillating between loyalty to the party and defection to
George Wallace. But in Washington, the Vice President advocated
a full- scale Administration campaign for the open-housing bill
that is now law. And Humphrey believes additional civil rights
legislation may be necessary.

     No Two Camelots. The Kennedy camp has sought to exploit
Humphrey's new ties with the South. Ted Sorenson, one of
Kennedy's top speechwriters and strategists, charged on a
television panel show last week that Humphrey had already
offered the vice-presidential nomination on his ticket "to every
Southern Governor." When pressed as to his source, Sorenson
insisted: "I know he has." Which governors in particular? "Right
across the board." The idea of Humphrey putting Lester Maddox
or Lurleen Wallace as close to the presidency as the proverbial
heartbeat is, of course, bafflegab, and Sorenson himself later
backed away a bit from his initial assertion.

     But even at this early stage, speculative ticket
construction is an obsessive pastime. Among Southern Governors
who are believed to have vice-presidential aspirations are
Louisiana's John McKeithen and Texas' John Connally. After
considerable comparative shopping, John Kennedy chose a
Southerner in 1960. But why not choose Robert Kennedy? Humphrey
might be receptive to the idea for the sake of unity; so might
Kennedy, if his campaign is faltering, for the sake of his own
future. San Francisco's Mayor Joseph Alioto, who is backing
Humphrey, has even proposed a Humphrey-Kennedy ticket for 1968
with the understanding that Humphrey step down after one term
and help Kennedy get the nomination in 1972.

     A Humphrey-Kennedy ticket would have a certain irony.
Humphrey Biographer Winthrop Griffith recalls a scene at the
Los Angeles convention when John Kennedy was on the brink of
victory. Bobby, a finger thrust at Hubert's chest, demanded the
immediate delivery of Minnesota's delegates, "or else." Humphrey
poked back and said: "Bobby, go to hell!"

     Humphrey declared for Adlai Stevenson although he knew it
was a futile gesture that might cost him influence later. He is
not a hater, worked closely with both Kennedys and could easily
do so again with Bobby. But he is irked by R.F.K.'s money,
modishness and restoration syndrome. "You cannot have two
Camelots," he says. "There was only one. Others can only be
pretenders." And there is also the grating realization that
Kennedy, who has sought to expropriate so much of Humphrey's
old ideological turf, was a rather conservative Harvard
undergraduate when Humphrey was already an established liberal
spokesman.

     No Bridge Burning. Another possibility is McCarthy for Vice
President. The disadvantage of this pairing, of course, is that
both he and Humphrey are from Minnesota. The Constitution does
not bar two men from one state running together, but it
precludes Electoral College votes of that state from being cast
for both men. Thus, if a Humphrey-McCarthy ticket carried
Minnesota, the ten electors would either have to split their
votes between the two or not vote at all for one of the offices.
For this reason, and because of the hard-dying desire for
geographic balance -- even in the era of nationwide TV and jet
travel -- no major party could lightly risk running a one-state
ticket.

     For the present, all three candidates have far more urgent
concerns. For McCarthy, it is a question of survival. One or
two primary losses may sink him, while his victories so far have
kept him just barely afloat. Kennedy must restore his momentum,
as he hopes to do in the primaries. Humphrey can only resort to
more tenuous tactics. He must fight for his share of attention,
but not campaign so combatively as to belie his banner as the
unity candidate. He must also extend an olive branch to attract
some of McCarthy's delegates if the opportunity arises.

     This is a touchy business, and Humphrey has delicately
discriminated between his unequal rivals. He says that
McCarthy's campaign "has been decent, honest and gentlemanly,"
but can spare no kind words for Kennedy. Rather, he has begun
indirectly to play on Kennedy's vulnerable points. "I intend to
act like a Vice President," Humphrey declares, "not like an
aggressive, acquisitive, self-seeking, bridge-burning candidate.
I don't run any blitzkriegs. I don't indulge in any arm-twisting
tactics." And the erstwhile enfant terrible emphasizes his own
"maturity" in contrast with the "emotional binges" of the
unnamed opposition.

     Company Man. Humphrey must also construct an efficient
organization. His personal staff consists mostly of Minnesotans
with little expertise in national politics. He tried to attract
Lawrence O'Brien, but lost him to Kennedy; there is no Humphrey
cadre of veteran organizers to match Kennedy's. Humphrey
himself, although he was a leading architect of Minnesota's
Democratic-Farmer-Labor Party in the 1940s, has never been
considered a particularly astute tactician on the national
level. In 1956, he openly sought the vice-presidential
nomination, ran a humiliating third behind Estes Kefauver and
John Kennedy. In 1960, Kennedy did not merely beat Humphrey: he
exterminated him.

     What Humphrey has, as does Richard Nixon among the
Republicans, is the affection and indebtedness of hundreds of
influential party officials around the country -- Congressmen,
mayors, Governors, state committeemen -- for whom he has
campaigned, raised funds and opened many doors in Washington.
He must now translate these IOUs into meaningful support.

     Humphrey has few enemies in Washington. It is a company
town and, particularly since becoming Senate majority whip in
1961 and then Vice President in 1965, Humphrey has been a
company man par excellence. Forsaking some of his old
freewheeling ways, he moved closer to the seat of power. As
whip, he had had the intense pleasure of leading the successful
fight for the 1964 Civil Rights Act, the Limited Nuclear
Test-Ban Treaty and other measures he had earlier promoted. The
exchange of office finally paid off by giving him his present
opportunity to run once more for the presidency.

     "Weeping Hawk." It was Lyndon Johnson who opened the way
in 1964 by selecting him as running mate, and a significant
question now is how much Johnson can and will help Humphrey grab
the highest rung. No one in Washington doubts that Johnson would
welcome Humphrey's accession -- if for no other reason than to
vindicate his own Administration's record and to confound his
chief tormentor, Kennedy.

     Johnson also owes it to Humphrey. The Vice President has
cheerfully taken on every conceivable chore, social, ceremonial
and substantive, political and diplomatic, that Johnson has
thrown at him. Along with Secretary of State Dean Rusk,
Humphrey has been one of the most persistent champions of the
Administration's Vietnam policy, even though his advocacy cost
Humphrey dearly among his fellow liberals. Humphrey has been
accused of being Johnson's "water boy," of playing Robin to the
President's Batman, of "betraying the liberal movement," of
being more militaristic than the generals. The latest attack
came last week from Robert G. Sherrill, who is publishing an
acerbic book on Humphrey to follow his acerbic book on Johnson.
In a foretaste published in the Nation, Sherrill implies that
Humphrey unconsciously doubts his own masculinity, calls him a
"weeping hawk," a "pudgy huckster," and impugns his commitment
to any abiding convictions. [Humphrey is indeed unusually
lachrymose. He publicly wept, among other occasions, when he
lost his bid for the vice-presidential nomination in 1956 and
when he lost the West Virginia primary in 1960.]

     Fairer critics concede that Humphrey's position on Vietnam
is consistent with the Vice President's longstanding views on
Communism and international security. Many liberals remain good
friends. Former Senator Paul Douglas insists that Humphrey has
suffered "no corruption of his spirit. He is still the
essentially progressive nontotalitarian liberal." Douglas also
argues that Humphrey has been instrumental in liberalizing
Lyndon. "It has not been a one-sided affair," he says. Even Dr.
Benjamin Spock, a leading antiwar activist, pronounces Humphrey
the best of the three candidates, except on Vietnam, and says
that he mistrusts Kennedy's "ambition."

     "I support what I believe to be in the best interests of
my country," says Humphrey. "That is why I support the
President. If I felt I could not, I would either keep silent or
I would resign." "(The only Vice President who quit was John C.
Calhoun, who left the Jackson Administration in 1832 to battle
for states' rights in the Senate.)

     Triple A-Plus. Only on rare occasions has Humphrey let slip
the merest hint of differences with the White House. Once in a
while, his old logorrheic fervor would earn Johnson's
displeasure, as when in 1966 he commented on urban riots: "With
rats nibbling on my children's toes, I might lead a pretty good
revolt myself." He also called for a "Marshall Plan" for the
cities when the White House was playing down big new spending
programs. But generally he disagreed with few Administration
policies. On Vietnam, Humphrey has pressed for greater social
reform, fewer grand search-and-destroy missions.

     His usual practice has been to keep whatever dissenting
views he had for private sessions with the President. Even in
meetings of the Cabinet and the National Security Council,
Humphrey felt, disagreement would only invite leaks. Johnson
has repaid Humphrey with the highest praise both in public and
private. "When I look back at what I did when I was Vice
President," Johnson told a recent Cabinet meeting, "I'd have to
give myself a grade of B or B-minus. But when I think how
Hubert Humphrey has performed, I'd have to give him a triple
A-plus."

     The two Populists from the heartland who arrived in the
Senate on the same day in 1949 have been personally closer than
most President and Vice Presidents. "My political tutor, my
friend," says Humphrey. "We are married to each other," says
Johnson. That Johnson wants him to be President has become
increasingly evident. The President has appointed George Ball
-- a Humphrey supporter who shares the Vice President's view
that the U.S. must pay more attention to European affairs -- as
U.N. Ambassador. "It's the first appointment of the Humphrey
Administration," said one State Department official,
anticipating that Ball will succeed Dean Rusk if Humphrey is
elected.

     While a formal presidential endorsement of Humphrey's
candidacy at some point would hardly be surprising, Johnson
will probably consider it tactically advisable to withhold it
for the time being. Humphrey's main task now, in addition to
hunting delegates, is to establish his identity as a candidate
who happens to be Vice President rather than as a Vice
President handpicked for succession and bound to existing
policies. If the Johnson Administration prospers in the next few
months, Humphrey cannot help benefiting from the success; if it
does not, close identification could only hurt.

     Hubert Humphrey has been yearning for the presidency for
far longer than he has been teamed with Lyndon Johnson. Despite
his ritual talk about continuity, Humphrey's presidency might
be quite unlike Johnson's.

     A Humphrey regime would probably be frenetic in its
scatteration of ideas -- and of money, too, if Humphrey's
admitted "looking at the stars" is to be reduced to practical
programs. It would be a highly carbonated Government, abubble
with exhortation and dialogue, far more open, homely and
susceptible to public gaffes than any since the reign of Harry
Truman (who is honorary chairman of the United Democrats for
Humphrey). A Humphrey Administration might lack the grace of
John Kennedy's tenure, but it would also eschew the dourly
divisive Johnsonian mood. For Humphrey is a believer in "the
politics of happiness, the politics of joy." As he promised even
before announcing his candidacy: "We may not win, but we'll sure
have a heck of a good time trying" -- which is one capacity he
has demonstrated beyond doubt.