The Governors

They changed the beer in Yezzi's place last week. Over the bar of the State Street saloon, where Albany politicians hang out, now flows Genesee beer, made by Louis Wehle, New York's newly appointed conservation commissioner. Yezzi's was turning with the political wind: after twelve years of Republican rule, Averell Hardman, millionaire Democrat, was inaugurated as governor of New York, the nation's second biggest political job.

Trainloads of party stalwarts from New York City rolled into Albany for Harriman's inauguration. Hotels were jammed with the jubilant and the job-hungry, come to celebrate or supplicate. Hotel parties went on all through the New Year weekend. The biggest: a cocktail party for several hundred people at the DeWitt Clinton, given by Tammany Boss Carmine De Sapio, New York's new secretary of state (TIME, Dec. 27).

Amidst the tumult and the shouting moved "Honest Ave," like a well-dressed icicle, thin and sharp and distant. In his Mercury he drove from his Manhattan town house to the sprawling, old Executive Mansion in Albany, emerging for a dinner attended by a distinguished gathering of Democrats. Among the guests: Margaret Truman, former Air Secretary Thomas Finletter, two of President Roosevelt's old intimates and speechwriters, ex-Judge Samuel Rosenman and Playwright Robert Sherwood, and William Blair, aide to and ambassador from Adlai Stevenson.

In his inaugural speech Ave Harriman. 63. beginning his first elective job after 20 years of top appointive offices in Washington, promised "a bold and adventurous'' program. His speech was anything but; even for a ceremonial event, the cliche count ran high (around 50) "The problems ahead are difficult, but they are not insuperable," said Harriman. a statement that was about typical and about right.

Harriman has given some top jobs to such oldtime New Dealers as Dr. Isador Lubin (ex-U.S. Commissioner of Labor Statistics) and Paul Appleby (ex-Under Secretary of Agriculture), with whom he once served in Washington. He has some immediate problems, notably a $75 million rise in state operating costs, which might require an increase in state income taxes. Basically, he inherited an exceedingly sound administration from retiring Republican Governor Thomas E. Dewey. When Dewey left Albany, after twelve years in office, there was a leak in the

Executive Mansion, but there was also a $142 million rainy-day surplus in the state treasury.

Thirty-three other states will get new governors this month. Among them: California. Republican Goodwin J.

("Goody") Knight, who glows under the bright lights, arranged to be sworn in facing the cameras in the state's first televised inaugural ceremony. He also faced a lot of problems : California is running into the red at the rate of $7,000,000 a month, might require more taxes to finance its forthcoming record $1.5 billion budget. California farmers need irrigation water and Los Angeles needs fresh air.

Goody Knight had plans for every thing. He pushed the $1.2 billion state Feather River reclamation project, and he put out $150,000 for a study of smog. He was happy, and so were his staff mem bers: Goody, who used to keep them working far into the night, has been quitting at dinnertime since his recent marriage. His domestic bliss and political success are evident. He is on the friendliest terms with the state legislature, which is Republican-controlled. Goody Knight, rather than his fellow Californian, Vice President Dick Nixon, is likely to go to the 1956 G.O.P. Convention with control of California's big delegation.

Connecticut. This week the Governor's Foot Guard (organized in 1771), wearing uniforms similar to those of England's Coldstream Guards, escorts Abraham A.

Ribicoff to a stately inauguration at the Capitol in Hartford, climaxed by a ball (3,000 paying guests at $25 a couple) with a grand march and a midnight sup per. Thus will Abe Ribicoff realize the American dream that, related in an emotional TV campaign speech ("That any boy could aspire to any position . . . and reach any heights"), helped to beat Republican John Lodge.

Handsome Abe Ribicoff invited newspapermen to lunch at Bloomfield's Tumble Brook Country Club to outline his plans, told them he wants no pressagent--"a big press buildup is the worst thing that can happen to a man"--and demonstrated that he needs none. "I have always operated lean," said Ribicoff, talking economy. He wanted no lawyer on his staff either: "After all, that's what I am." He added modestly: "If possible, I would like to have an economist in my office." South Dakota. Joseph Jacob Foss, 39, who won the Medal of Honor as a Marine fighter pilot for shooting down 26 Japanese planes, becomes the youngest governor in South Dakota's history this week, and invited everybody to his inauguration: "Come as you are." Easygoing Joe Foss decided to go into politics during a wartime defense-plant tour when he had to adorn platforms and listen to politicians orate.

After the war, Joe Foss turned down big-business offers ("I didn't want to be a dancing bear") to stay home in Sioux Falls, living with his family in a converted barracks (they now have three children).

He ran a flying service and later a Packard agency, also commanded the state Air National Guard. No village fair was too small for him to put on a spectacular flying show.

Barely defeated in 1950, he won easily last November. He has "no special program in mind" and no special problems in sight. Generally, South Dakotans are prosperous, have tucked away an average of $3,000 each in Government savings bonds alone. Says Joe Foss: "I didn't make any campaign promises I can't keep."

Maine. Democrat Edmund Muskie takes office this week, and the Republican secretary of state, proclaiming him governor, will utter the traditional cry: "God save the State of Maine!" Young (40) Ed Muskie might also feel the need to invoke divine aid in dealing with a legislature that has six Democrats to 27 Republicans in the Senate, 34 to 117 in the

House. Wisely, he has appointed a Republican administrative assistant. Muskie, whose state victory last September heralded Republican national defeat in November, is the state's first Democratic governor in 20 years. He intends to cooperate with the G.O.P., believes that the constructive approach will build up Maine, his party, and his own chances for re-election in 1956.

Michigan. For his inauguration last weekend, Governor G. Mennen ("Soapy") Williams wore striped trousers, a black club coat, a pearl-grey vest, and his usual green polka-dotted bow tie. To Michigan both the clothes and the occasion were familiar. Soapy was starting his fourth term, and he seemed stronger than ever. He put Democrats on the ballot for almost every elective job in Michigan, and carried a good many with him. He compiled a list of 147 accomplishments in the last six years and a strong program for the next two, including a $500 million bond program to finance new highways.

In the past Soapy usually blamed failure on the Republican state legislature. For this term the Michigan G.O.P. intends to give him what he wants, within reason, and let him take the blame for mistakes. It could be his greatest challenge yet, but Soapy is looking forward to another test. "Any person who would say he did not want to be President," he once said, "is not telling the truth."

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