Advanced Astrology

"As head of the Democratic Party, how do you like the Indiana situation?"

To the newshawk who popped that indelicate question three weeks ago, Franklin Roosevelt replied: Better consult an astrologer.

Last week "the Indiana situation" was resolved most remarkably, and whether he liked it or not, Franklin Roosevelt had little to do with it. The resolvers were Indiana's dumpy little senior Senator, Frederick Van Nuys (rhymes with geese), and an alarmingly handsome gentleman on the other side of the Earth, Philippine High Commissioner Paul Vories McNutt.

After Senator Van Nuys opposed President Roosevelt's Supreme Court plan last year, he was singled out as Victim No. 1 for the great purge of the Democratic Party. Franklin Roosevelt said nothing publicly, but Mr. McNutt's obedient satellite, Governor Maurice Clifford Townsend of Indiana, announced it last July from the White House steps (TIME, July 26), repeated it last August at a powwow of Democratic editors in Indianapolis: "The people of our State will not tolerate . . . any one in public office who will not put his shoulder to the wheel and give his earnest support to the President."

That stirred up the Dutch blood of Senator Van Nuys, a small-town lawyer who spent 32 years climbing from precinct worker to Senator. He stethoscoped Indiana and concluded that his anti-Court-bill vote was one of the most popular he ever cast. He began to talk of running as an independent if denied the Democratic nomination. "I think I know the rank and file of the party. I have been with President Roosevelt 95% of the time. ... I propose that the people of Indiana shall have a chance to express themselves. . . ."

Senator Van Nuys also knew the rank & file of the McNutt-Townsend machine, knew how its appointees contribute 2% of their State salaries to the machine's treasury, how scandalous certain of its dealings --in liquor licenses, for example--could be made to look. Republicans began to say nice things about him: as an "independent" he would certainly split the Democratic vote, help a Republican to win.

Suddenly three weeks ago, Senator Van Nuys, vacationing in Michigan, received a telegram from Governor Townsend, inviting him to be a candidate for renomination before an "open" State convention. Last week, at Indianapolis. Governor Townsend orated: "I sincerely hope you will select those who will cooperate in the broad liberal program of our President for recovery and security." And Senator Van Nuys was renominated by acclamation.

This about-face resulted from no change in New Deal feeling. It was ordered in spite of Franklin Roosevelt by potent Paul McNutt. After a series of 10,000-mile telephone calls, High Commissioner McNutt decided that his own ambitions were more important than the President's purge. Defeat through division this autumn would weaken his machine. Van Nuys's charges of scandal might sully the fair McNutt name. The renomination of Frederick Van Nuys became an incident in the plans of McNutt for 1940.

While the resolutions of the convention were being read, came a dramatic pause. The resolutions chairman yielded his manuscript to burly, bull-voiced Frank McHale, original McNutt-for-President man, now Indiana's National Democratic Committeeman. Sonorously Mr. McHale intoned: "Paul V. McNutt has never failed his community, his State or his country. With him as the nominee for President of the United States our party can proceed with full consciousness that every promise will be kept, that each platform declaration will be respected and that the best interests of the people will be served. Therefore, we, the Democratic Party of Indiana, give Paul V. McNutt to our party and to the nation!"

Sirens screamed, 21 bombs (a Presidential salute) exploded, the band played A Hot Time in the Old Town Tonight, and the screaming and shouting, whistling and waving, yelling and yowling McNutt Democrats of Indiana indulged themselves in the first hysteria of 1940.

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