A Question of Timing

Tom Dewey went to Washington last week. Officially, he was responding to an invitation from Harry Truman to report on his trip through the Far East. After Dewey's car had made two wrong turns finding the entrance, he entered the White House for the second time in his life,* spent 40 minutes with the President, and pronounced it "a very pleasant talk."

His statesman's chore done, it became obvious that Tom Dewey was also on urgent political business. He rushed up to Capitol Hill, got a quick lunch and a round of political handshakes, then headed for the office of Pennsylvania's Senator James Duff. In the 1948 Republican Convention, Jim Duff had declared bitterly that he was "for anybody but Dewey." But now the two had one thing in common: they both liked Ike.

A Genuine Draft? To Duff's office came other Ike men: Massachusetts' Leverett Saltonstall, New York's Irving Ives, Kansas' Frank Carlson. Pennsylvania's Representative Hugh Scott had just returned from Europe and a talk with Eisenhower, and they discussed his news.

As Scott reported it, the conversation had gone like this: he had told Eisenhower, "We are acting without any thought of patronage or reward . . . But we are up against the boys in the political engine room [who] are offering all kinds of patronage, from postmasterships to U.S. attorneys' posts to all and sundry who will back their man." All Scott asked on behalf of Eisenhower supporters was "an assurance that the rug won't be pulled out from under their activities by any contrary statement from overseas.''

Eisenhower replied indirectly, according to Scott. He said: "I'm engaged in a terribly important job to myself and the free world. I took that job at considerable personal risk. If there are people at home who feel that a cause is worth pursuing, then they ought to be willing to accept whatever risk is incident to making that fight for that cause.'' Eisenhower, said Scott, indicated a newspaper article on his desk which speculated that Ike would feel impelled to accept the nomination if a genuine move to draft Ike developed. That article reflected his position, he told Scott.

"We're All For Him." The conferees knew well that genuine political drafts are not created without heat. They decided that it was time to warm up the campaign. Too many Ike supporters were nervously eyeing the Taft bandwagon, well filled with professionals who have a lot of delegates and a yearning for a "real" Republican who will put on an all-out campaign without "me-tooing" the Fair Deal. Ike supporters needed reassurance, and with Scott's news, Dewey & Co. decided they could be given reassurance. Emerging from Duff's office, Tom Dewey publicly planted himself before the waiting reporters, in the role of chief Ike-booster. Had the talk been about Ike? Dewey admitted freely that it had. "We are all for him," said Dewey. What if Ike was too busy to run? "We don't contemplate such possibilities," said Dewey firmly. Jim Duff added a vigorous agreement: "What the hell do you think I'm doing? Wasting my time?"

Next day Dewey saw Scott for a long talk, then flew back to New York. Clearly, the campaign for Ike was beginning to roll, and Dewey was pushing it hard.

In Kansas City, Harry Darby, Kansas G.O.P. national committeeman and ex-Senator, heard the news of these proceedings with profound alarm. Darby has heretofore been considered the master Ike strategist, and he thought that the time to start an open campaign for Ike would be next March or April. He suspected that Dewey was trying to take over, thought Dewey's unpopularity with many party professionals would only harm Ike. This week Darby hustled to Washington to try to slow things down, and incidentally, to chase Tom Dewey to the sidelines.

*The first time, for Franklin Roosevelt's funeral, in 1945.

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