Minnesota Miracle

In early winter, when Estes Kefauver announced his candidacy, few politicians or political reporters were listening carefully enough to catch the threat in his tone. To almost every question, the Tennessee Senator's answer was a capsule of political skill, and his comment about the Minnesota primary was perhaps the best of all. Would he go into Minnesota, asked a reporter, and face Adlai Stevenson?

"Well, I concede that things are pretty well stacked against me, apparently," said Estes modestly, "but I have been receiving an awful lot of requests from rankand-file people to enter. I will have to evaluate whether I have enough rank-and-file strength to offset the big bloc of political strength which has gotten behind Mr. Stevenson."

After Estes evaluated and entered, the cards indeed seemed to be stacked against him. While Adlai Stevenson whisked across Minnesota on the wings of the Democratic-Farmer-Labor organization headed by U.S. Senator Hubert Humphrey and Governor Orville Freeman, Kefauver slogged through the state with a collection of political paupers. Adlai made elegant speeches at elaborately arranged meetings; Estes went about shaking hands and chucking chins. Stevenson's supporters began to believe the slaughter would be even greater than their wildest dreams.

"Absolutely No Alibi." Not until a few days before the primary did either side sense that Kefauver was gaining. Only two days before the primary, Governor Freeman predicted that Stevenson would win by "somewhere between a two-to-one and a three-to-one majority." A day before the vote, Stevenson-lining Columnist Doris Fleeson wrote: "If Stevenson loses or is badly damaged, he has absolutely no alibi."

From Candidate Stevenson himself, there was an estimate that he would win 55% to 60% of the vote. At his country home in Libertyville, Ill., he scheduled a victory party on primary night. It was to be just the kind of political gathering Stevenson likes: a black tie dinner (he wore a red tartan dinner jacket), with only his really good friends in politics invited--the wealthy, intellectual, aristocratic amateurs. Among the guests were Washington Lawyer George Ball, Louisville Editor (Courier-Journal) Barry Bingham. Chicago Industrialist (duplicating machines) Edison Dick. By the time that Stevenson's sister and biographer (My Brother Adlai), Elizabeth Ives, arrived, Stevenson was beginning to get the news from Minnesota. "It's lousy," he said. "It's just awful."

It was. In a state where Stevenson had every reason to win, he went down to crushing defeat. Estes Kefauver swept the state 238,885 to 182,549, won 26 of the state's 30 delegate seats at the Democratic National Convention, leaving only four district delegates for Stevenson. The day before Minnesota, Stevenson had been considered almost a sure bet to get the Democratic nomination; the day after, there was doubt whether he could stay in the race. At a grim news conference the next afternoon, he tried to dispel the doubt. "I will try even harder," he said. "I have just begun."

The Big, Stark Fact. By that time the post-mortem was well under way. Because the vote in the Democratic Party was more than twice that on the Republican side, Stevenson sought comfort in his own interpretation that the big news from Minnesota was "a smashing repudiation of the present Administration."

Both Stevenson and Kefauver Democrats contended that thousands of Republicans crossed over into the Democratic primary in a revolt against the Eisenhower Administration's farm program. But then the Stevenson partisans tripped over their own arguments by contending that the Stevenson defeat was the work of conspiring Republicans who crossed over and voted for Kefauver in an effort to destroy Stevenson, Humphrey and Freeman. If the Republicans who voted Democratic were angry enough to bolt their party on the farm issue, the same Republicans were not so loyal that they conspired to destroy the Democratic leadership.

The Minnesota miracle was indeed a devastating blow to the Democratic-Farmer-Labor leadership. Before the primary, the Minnesota organization was considered the brightest jewel in the new Democratic crown. But Humphrey and Freeman had committed themselves fully to Stevenson, and the defeat left their machine in the ditch.

As the first two names on Adlai Stevenson's demolished slate of delegates, the Senator and the governor not only failed to pull Stevenson in, but may also have locked themselves out of the Democratic National Convention. They might be able to wangle their way onto the floor by some political maneuvers, but they might have to pledge their votes to Kefauver to do it. Pausing to notice the plight of his erstwhile foes, Kefauver last week was big about it all. Said he: "I still would like to have Mr. Freeman and Senator Humphrey on my convention delegation."

Behind the Minnesota results lay a combination of factors. The bigger Democratic vote was largely due to the fact that there was a hot contest in the Democratic primary, and no contest on the Republican side. Some Republicans crossed over to embarrass the Democratic leadership, an old trick introduced in Minnesota years ago by Harold Stassen. Others voted on the Democratic side because they are angry about the farm situation. No doubt hundreds of Democrats voted for Kefauver because they resented what he so expertly exploited as an attempt by the party "bosses" to shove Stevenson down their throats.

But the key factor in Estes Kefauver's spectacular victory was the difference that Minnesota Democrats found in the two candidates. In Adlai Stevenson many Minnesotans saw a precise talker without much to say, a philosophizer whose philosophy did not clearly emerge--a man they did not really like or even understand. In Estes Kefauver they saw a big, friendly, folksy politician whose comfortable generalities were easy to take and whose warm hand was easy to shake. As reporters combed over the bones of the Minnesota contest, one voter after another spoke of Kefauver as "a down-to-earth man of the people."

No matter how much analysis was done, there was one big, stark fact: Adlai Stevenson had taken a critical blow in the middle of his Minnesota. He was not out but he was on the floor, and the count was almost up to ten. The seriousness of his position was wryly illustrated by Kefauver's manager, Florence Joseph ("Jiggs") Donohue. Asked if Kefauver might accept Stevenson as a candidate for Vice President (an unthinkable question on the Monday before Minnesota), Donohue cracked: "I think it might be given serious consideration, if he can demonstrate a greater capacity to get votes."

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