Wake & Awakening

Our dear President Truman, of whom we are all so fond, cannot possibly be reelected.

The broad brogue of paddy-faced Jeremiah T. Mahoney, onetime New York Supreme Court Justice and a New York delegate to the Democratic National Convention, rolled out the words slowly and sadly. Most of the nation's big & little Democrats agreed with him. It seemed to them that next week's convention at Philadelphia would only be a mournful wake before the funeral in bleak November.

Was there anything that could be done?

Foolish Question. At his first White House press conference in more than a month, Harry Truman waited gamely for the hot political questions he knew would come.

Did he expect to be nominated on the first ballot? Of course.

Then he would not withdraw as a candidate? Definitely not, and the question was Foolish Question No. 1.

Would Mrs. Franklin D. Roosevelt be acceptable to him as a running-mate (as suggested fortnight ago by Republican Clare Boothe Luce*)? Of course, of course. What else could he be expected to say?/-

The President was outwardly determined and confident. He was not motivated merely by stubbornness. He had grown to like the job which he had once considered an overwhelming burden. He felt that a challenge had been thrown out and that he must meet it. In 1940 most political observers had counted him out as a candidate for re-election as Senator from Missouri, but he stuck out the race and won. He felt that he was in a comparable situation now.

His most experienced practical adviser brought him consoling news. National Chairman Howard McGrath, who looked as if he had not slept since just before the Republican Convention, totted up the "sure" Truman delegates. It showed that the President would have at least 200 more first-ballot votes than the 618 needed for nomination. Most of the "sure" delegates were bound to Harry Truman by primary election pledges; the others could be "counted on" for delivery, however unhappily, by the big state machines.

Coast to Coast. But how sure was "sure?" Was there, at this last frantic moment, a chance to dump Harry Truman? After all, of the six other U.S. Presidents who reached the White House through the death of their predecessors, four had been unceremoniously dropped by their own party as soon as their terms were up. Ten days before the convention would open, a hastily formed coalition to stop Harry Truman came into being.

Like the Democratic Party itself, it was composed of the most diverse elements: Southerners (who dislike Truman because of his stand on racial equality), New Dealers (who think Truman has forsaken them) and big city bosses (who fear that Truman will be so badly beaten that they will lose control of local offices).

They had only one thing in common. They hoped--without any guarantee from him whatsoever--that they could rally around General Dwight D. Eisenhower.

First Licks. The Southerners got in their licks first. South Carolina's Senator Olin D. Johnson dropped in to chat with the General at Columbia University, came out certain (or so he told newsmen) that Ike would submit to a draft. "Hummon" Talmadge's machine in Georgia noisily acclaimed Ike, pledged him its 28 votes. Virginia echoed the Georgians. South Carolina's Governor J. Strom Thurmond told his 20 delegates to whoop it up for Ike.

The old New Dealers, largely represented by the anti-Communist Americans for Democratic Action, bombarded every convention delegate by mail, urging a ticket of Eisenhower "and/or" Supreme Court Justice William O. Douglas.

Up to this point the coalition was merely a loose confederation. The man who made the effort to draw it together was James Roosevelt, who was pledged to Truman himself and who, but three weeks ago, had smilingly posed with a smiling Harry Truman in Los Angeles.

As Democratic state chairman of California, Jimmy telephoned key Democrats the country over, finally got Chicago's Democratic Boss Jake Arvey and New York's Mayor Bill O'Dwyer (who was busy with a political fight of his own) to join him.

Their strategy was bold and open. Out went telegrams to every Democratic delegate inviting him to an all-state caucus in Philadelphia two nights before the convention's opening. There, the coalitionists hoped, they could rally the uncommitted delegates to their cause, persuade enough committed delegates to drop their pledges and thus block a first-ballot nomination of President Truman.

The telegrams did not mention Eisenhower's name. They did state: "No man . . .can refuse the call to duty and leadership." The coalitionists hoped that by dangling Ike's name before the delegates they could at least get them to come to the caucus. If they couldn't get Ike, they hoped at least to use him as a stalking horse, and try to agree on some other candidate later on.

The drive swiftly picked up backers. Leaders from Utah, Nebraska, Kansas, Wisconsin, Michigan, Connecticut, Massachusetts, got behind and pushed. This week it got a shot of jet propulsion. Bald Boss Frank Hague, who helped Harry Truman get his vice presidential nomination four years ago, hastily called a seashore caucus of New Jersey's 36 delegates, walked them off the Truman ship and on to the Eisenhower bandwagon. He would not, said Hague, "force upon the Democrats of the state a man they do not want."

Pudgy Hand. But at week's end the entire Eastern seaboard buzzed with rumors that General Ike was ready to bow himself finally and irrevocably out of the Democratic picture. The pudgy hand of George E. Allen, President Truman's onetime crony and Ike Eisenhower's close friend, was in on the play. Allen spent most of three days with Ike last week. They met in Washington. Then George and Mary Allen and Ruth Butcher (divorced wife of Captain Harry Butcher, the General's wartime naval aide) went up to Manhattan to help Dwight and Mamie Eisenhower celebrate their 32nd wedding anniversary.

Between party and golf, Allen persuaded Ike that if he really meant what he said last January,* he would have to say it even harder now. This week Ike did.

"I will not at this time," he said, "identify myself with any political party and could not accept nomination for any public office or participate in partisan political contests."

Would the coalitionists stop with the Eisenhower refusal? Some would carry on. Their next best hope was Justice Douglas, who was vacationing in the mountain fastnesses of Oregon and showed no inclination whatever of wanting to run.

Unless the coalitionists could settle on a man, it would be Harry Truman on the first ballot. If they did find a common denominator, it would be the liveliest and most bitter Democratic Convention since 1932.

*Onetime Congresswoman Luce, who retired from active politics two years ago (TIME, Aug. 26, 1946), announced last week that she would have nothing further to do with politics in any shape or form. Her reasons (as given to the Bridgeport, Conn. Post): 1) the Dewey-Warren ticket is "sure to win" and does not need her help; 2) she intends to devote most of her time to writing. Ձaid Eleanor Roosevelt: "I have no intention of running for any public office at any time whatsoever." *He said then: "My decision to remove myself completely from the political scene is definite and positive. . .I could not accept nomination."

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