The New Twist

By shaping a doughless pretzel plant at Reading, Pa. (pop. 111,700) into the biggest pretzelry in the U.S., Arthur T. McGonigle in 25 years kneaded a reputation as "the man who took the pretzel out of the bar and put it into the kitchen." Last week friendly, self-made Art McGonigle, 51, was touring Pennsylvania on another assignment with a more complicated twist. This November Pennsylvanians elect another governor. And Pennsylvania Republicans bank on McGonigle as a dark-horse G.O.P. candidate who can take their ragged organization out of the doldrums and put it once again into a position of power and patronage in Democrat-held Harrisburg.

Before he takes on the Democrats, Amateur McGonigle, the G.O.P. organization candidate, must take on Old Professional Harold Stassen, the amateurs' candidate, in the May 20 primary. Eased out as President Eisenhower's disarmament adviser, ten-year Pennsylvania Resident Stassen (he was president of the University of Pennsylvania from 1948 to 1952) returned home, ignored taunts of "carpetbagger," solicited endorsement as the party's candidate for governor. He was rebuffed by the unanimous decision of 67 Republican county chairmen. Nevertheless, he filed. Then he set out like underdog to sniff out anti-organization Republican little wheels, to capitalize on his name and fame by charming the ladies' clubs and the luncheon circuit. Touring solemnly from town to town in his green Edsel sedan, Stassen, 51, made it evident that he had lost little of the precinct prowess that once (1938) elected him governor of Minnesota.

Homemade Gingerbread. What Candidate McGonigle lacks in political experience he makes up in genial man-to-man manner. Born of Scotch-Irish Methodist parents in Kane, Pa., McGonigle worked his way through Kane High and Temple University, was a General Foods driver-salesman until he took charge at $30 a week of the shaky Bachman Pretzel Bakery in Reading, and began rocketing its output with automatic pretzel benders and cellophane packages. Last year G.O.P. State Chairman George Bloom, trying to salvage something of the G.O.P. wreckage left by the Grundy and Fine machines, persuaded Pretzel King McGonigle to become the party's finance chairman, was elated when McGonigle soon brought the organization out of the red.

McGonigle took the finance job on condition that he never be named for elective office. But one evening in March, while he and wife Cordelia munched homemade gingerbread and gulped raspberry Jell-O in the kitchen of their Sinking Spring home outside Reading, the telephone rang. Casting about for a fresh face for this year's political war, the G.O.P. steering committee had chosen his as the freshest. McGonigle accepted, then began beating across Pennsylvania in a tan Oldsmobile station wagon to make the face better known and to express outspoken views; e.g., he would, as governor, veto a right-to-work law; he would also probably have to raise taxes to meet increased costs and commitments.

Helping Harold Home. Pennsylvania pundits are still uncertain how the May 20 Republican primary will swing. Organization Man McGonigle is favored, but harried Harold Stassen has an outside chance because: 1) his name is better known; 2) also in the race is former State Secretary of Internal Affairs William S. Livengood Jr., who might skim off McGonigle votes. Regardless of who wins, the Republican path in November will be bumpier than a well-salted pretzel. Already picked as Democratic harmony candidate is skyscraper-building, machine-oiling Pittsburgh Mayor David Leo Lawrence, whose skill at both tasks (TIME, Nov. 4) makes him Pennsylvania's most powerful political boss.

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