Profile in Brinkmanship

The only major issue left on the Senate's agenda last week was, in a sense, a family affair--and the family was there in force to hear it out. In the galleries sat Ethel Kennedy in beige, Joan Kennedy in pink, Eunice Kennedy Shriver in purple. On the floor, New York's Senator Robert Kennedy had borrowed a colleague's seat for a better view of the action. The chamber was unusually still as Massachusetts' tall, blue-suited junior Senator rose to speak. "The question before the Senate," Edward Kennedy began, "is the confirmation of the appointment of Francis X. Morrissey as Judge of the United States Court for the District of Massachusetts."

For the next 20 minutes Teddy repeated his familiar dithyramb to the Kennedys' longtime political handyman. Swallowing heavily, Senator Kennedy, 33, came close to tears as he traced Frank Morrissey's career back half a century to the days when he was one of twelve children in a family so poor that their shoes were "held together with wooden pegs their father made." Chastising the American Bar Association and other professional groups that opposed Morrissey's nomination to the federal bench--they said he was the least qualified candidate in memory--Kennedy charged that their objections were rooted in snobbish distaste for the fact that struggling young Frank had been forced to attend "a local law school at night rather than a national law school by day." Earlier, and incorrectly, Teddy claimed that the A.B.A. had opposed Justice Brandeis' nomination to the Supreme Court in 1916.

Then, striving for a climax worthy of Profiles in Courage, Teddy finished his eulogy, paused, and declared: "I therefore ask unanimous consent that nomination of Francis Morrissey be recommitted to the Committee on the Judiciary." Thus, he effectively killed Frank Morrissey's chances of a $30,000-a-year lifetime federal judgeship, at least for now, and probably forever.

Anti-Shanty. Oddly enough, the Kennedys might just have scraped together enough votes to win. Their cause had been given a powerful boost by Nicholas Katzenbach, Bobby Kennedy's successor as U.S. Attorney General, who had assigned the FBI to look into Morrissey's confused past. Katzenbach's statement, contending that Morrissey's testimony before the Senate Judiciary Committee had been entirely truthful, glossed over the essential details; the FBI report as released in summary form, did not resolve all the inconsistencies between Morrissey's testimony and other information that had come to light (TIME, Oct. 22).

The FBI report and the Katzenbach statement were reproduced by Teddy Kennedy's office and sent to the other 99 Senators with a covering letter offering further elucidation on request. The Kennedy brothers worked frantically meanwhile to line up individual votes. One of their arguments was that the legal establishment is prejudiced against the "shanty Irish." The White House also made some phone calls to rally wavering support for Morrissey, who was, of course, President Johnson's nominee.

But the cost of victory was mounting. Virtually every Senator pledged to Morrissey's cause seemed increasingly embarrassed. Leverett Saltonstall, Teddy's senior colleague from Massachusetts, unhappily announced that he had changed his position from "no objection" to one favoring recommittal. Staunch Democratic allies of the Kennedys, notably Joseph Tydings of Maryland and Pennsylvania's Joseph Clark, warned that in all conscience they might have to vote no. As one Democratic skeptic put it: "If they vote for this guy, how can they keep the political hacks in their own states off their necks?"

Retreat from Embarrassment. Faced finally with a choice between inglorious victory and unpalatable defeat, Ted Kennedy went all the way to the brink --and chose defeat. Though virtually none of his colleagues knew of his decision in advance, he notified President Johnson of his switch the night before the Senate showdown. He also tipped off Minority Leader Everett Dirksen, whose forces had become reasonably confident that they could scuttle Morrissey's nomination. After crossing the Senate floor to give Teddy an avuncular handclasp, old Ev rumbled: "It takes something for a young man to subdue his pride. It doesn't bother an old bastard like me. But in a young man it takes courage."

Dirksen's plaudits, echoed by Majority Leader Mike Mansfield, reflected Senate sentiment. By the club's unwritten rules, a member's political imprudence is tolerable, even understandable --but only so long as it does not inconvenience his colleagues. Thus in the Senate's memory, Teddy's ill-advised efforts for an ill-equipped judicial nominee may be largely forgotten--while his retreat from the brink of embarrassment will be warmly remembered as an act of high courage. Outside the Senate, which is not likely to confine Teddy Kennedy's ambitions indefinitely, the Morrissey affair may be remembered as a negative entry in the record book of a clan that made great capital of the pursuit of excellence.

This file is automatically generated by a robot program, so reader's discretion is required.