Mushrooming Words

When the U.S. Senate started debating the atomic-energy bill (see box) last fortnight, no one on Capitol Hill expected a major explosion. Then, New Mexico Democrat Clinton Anderson dropped in a rider to wipe out President Eisenhower's plan for AEC purchase of electric power from private companies. From that triggering device there mushroomed one of the bitterest filibusters ever.

For six days the marathon debate was not recognized for what it was. Then Majority Leader William Knowland said, as if surprised: "I had no reason to believe that the liberal wing of the Democratic Party would engage in a filibuster." Next day he called for an all-night session.

The First Night. As Senators steeled themselves for the endurance test, cots were hauled out of Capitol storerooms and set up outside the Senate chamber. The filibusterers, led by Alabama Democrat Lister Hill, agreed to vote on the Anderson rider. It was voted down, 55 to 36. The talkers went right on talking. They refused to regard the vote as final. Cried Hill: "The lobbyists of the power trust have been swarming the corridors for days."

Pulling another rider out of the brimming hopper, the filibusterers won the next skirmish. Colorado Democrat Edwin Johnson pressed for a vote on a rider that would enable the AEC to build nuclear reactors for commercial power production. It carried, 45 to 41.

Deep into the night, Tennessee Democrat Albert Gore, the filibusterers' field general, relieved his speakers by peppering questions at them from time to time and bringing up fresh troops according to a carefully worked out speaking schedule. Knowland, on the other hand, was getting little assistance from Republicans, and less sleep. The talkers gleefully baited him.

North Dakota's windy old William Langer asked West Virginia's aging (79) Democrat Matthew Neely: "Is President Eisenhower a Republican or a Democrat?" Replied Neely mischievously, "Why ask me? It took him 62 years to find that out. While we are on that point ... it took him over 60 years to find out that he could join a church."

Shaking with rage, Bill Knowland barked: "Is the Senator from West Virginia questioning the patriotism of the President of the U.S.?" Neely denied that he was and added: "You are reflecting on yourself, sir ... Are you ashamed?"

Before dawn broke that morning, Oregon's Wayne Morse, the Senate's alltime talkathon champion (22 hours, 26 minutes in last year's tidelands filibuster), strutted onto the Senate floor sporting a red, red rose. "This is a filibuster. I never fly under false colors," he rasped, adding that he would orate until the rose wilted. He did.

The Second Night. At 12.39 a.m. next day, as the talk droned on, Knowland introduced a closure petition by which debate could be shut off on a two-thirds vote. It was Knowland's only available weapon, and with it he served notice of his determination to harass the filibusterers. They rejoined by demanding a quorum call at 12:50, another at 3:46. The quorum calls gave the orators a respite while the sergeant-at-arms routed Senators out of their beds at home or off their cots in the Capitol.

The Third Night. On the third night, the filibusterers were still going strong. At 2:18 a.m. by the Senate clock, Wayne Morse emerged from the outer darkness for a second round, this time with a red carnation. The desk beside him became a pantry, manned by his assistant. Morse guzzled milk, soup, four glasses of orange juice, three cups of tea. All the while, he solemnly complained that the soup had "enough pepper to choke a horse," that the juice was canned and the tea soapy. Between complaints he discussed such affairs of state as Alaska statehood, the Montana primary election and antimonopoly features of the monopolistic Post Office Department. At 7:30 loose-jointed Bill Langer stumbled in. "Good morning, but I don't have time to talk now," said Talker Morse, and on he talked.

As the day wore on, the filibusterers began to hint that they had had their fun and would fold up their cots this week. Gore, looking fresh as ever, admitted that his fight "is now one of hopeless odds." Toward evening Democratic Leader Lyndon Johnson, who had been conspicuously silent, proposed that all agree to a limitation of debate. Characteristically, Morse objected. Nevertheless, with Johnson telling his Democrats that it was time to show some sense of responsibility, the filibustered were not likely to hold out much longer. Bill Knowland, clearly frazzled but somewhat encouraged, decided to let the Senators take Sunday off.

When the recess bell sounded at 11:48 p.m. Saturday, the Senate, but for a 25-minute break in Friday's wee hours, had been in session for a record-shattering 85 hours, 33 minutes. At that point, the filibuster had only one major effect: it exploded Knowland's fond hopes for a Senate adjournment at month's end.

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