On the Prongs

Let me introduce myself. I'm Orville Freeman, the man on the end of the pitchfork.

There is more than facetiousness in the way that the Secretary of Agriculture greets many of his audiences. Orville Freeman gave John Kennedy some timely support at the Democratic convention in 1960, and when he was beaten for re-election as Governor of Minnesota, J.F.K. gave him the questionable consolation of becoming Secretary of Agriculture. In the years since, the durable Freeman has been impaled repeatedly, but never fatally, on the prongs of one sharp controversy after another: crop controls, immense commodity surpluses, the Billie Sol Estes scandal, falling farm income, rising food prices. This week, when Freeman testifies before poverty subcommittees of both the House and the Senate, he will be lucky if he can avoid yet another pitched battle.

Lingering Hunger. The subcommittees are understandably perplexed about why, despite U.S. agricultural abundance and food-relief programs, some Americans still go hungry. It was the Senate group, chaired by Pennsylvania Democrat Joseph Clark, that visited the Mississippi Delta in April and reported "emergency" hunger conditions. The following month, in a survey commissioned by the Field Foundation, a team of physicians examined more than 600 Mississippi Negro children and found "obvious evidence of severe malnutrition." Two weeks ago, Freeman undertook his own "look, learn and listen" excursion to Mississippi and Alabama as part of a four-state tour to study rural problems. His conclusion: while progress is being made in food distribution and other programs, very real hardship exists. "Our job," he said, "is to reach every American with an adequate diet. The food is available. The machinery to get it to them is becoming increasingly effective."

Then why does hunger hang on? Some of those who face malnutrition --or even starvation--simply do not understand how to use existing programs, says Freeman. Others, especially rural Negroes in the Deep South, are victims of the indifference and prejudice of local officials who, according to the six Field Foundation doctors, use programs "selectively, politically, and with obvious racial considerations in mind."

Some Southern Negroes even contend that whites in certain Black Belt counties are consciously plotting to starve Negroes into Northern exile.

Despite his reputation for short-fused pugnacity, ex-Marine Freeman tries to be coolly diplomatic on this score. He saw "no conspiracy," he said, but rather a growing sense of responsibility among white officials. One factor making Freeman so soft-spokenly cautious is the virtual control of Southerners over both the Senate and House agriculture committees. Another is the fact that the $195 million bill extending the Food Stamp Act was saved from a crippling amendment in the House last month by just eleven votes. Freeman obviously hopes to accomplish more by wooing Southern Congressmen than by warring with them.

Stamps & Surpluses. The fact that Freeman is under fire for the shortcomings of federal food programs is ironic. It was the Secretary of Agriculture who prodded the Government in 1961 to launch a pilot food-stamp project and in 1964 to push a full-scale program through a Congress that was not entirely convinced of its need. Under the scheme, low-income families can stretch their dollars by buying from authorized banks food stamps that are worth far more at the retail counter than the original purchase price. The amount of stamps they may buy depends chiefly on family size and income. In 1966, eligible families paid $148 million to buy stamps that were good for $231 million worth of groceries.

Food stamps, together with an older program of free distribution of 15 surplus foodstuffs (including canned chopped meat, lard, peanut butter, nonfat dry milk and, later this month, butter and cheese), now benefit 5,100,000 people in 2,000 counties and cities. Yet hundreds of the nation's poorest localities have elected not to participate in either program. Even where the food-stamp program is operating, some families are so poor that they lack the few dollars needed to buy them. Last month Freeman cut food-stamp prices for the lowest income group in Mississippi (under $30 per month, including some penniless families that do not qualify for welfare because of quirks in the state law), will soon make the reduction nationwide. To buy stamps that can be redeemed for $72 worth of food, for example, a family of six will pay $3 under the new rates rather than $12.

Sordid Mess. Hunger has traditionally concerned Agriculture Secretaries less than production and prices. Though net farm income last year reached a 19-year high and per-capita farm income has risen roughly 40%, to $1,700, during Freeman's tenure, few farmers gave Washington any credit for their prosperity. This year, with earnings off 6%, the Administration is reaping the blame. Since Freeman took over, a bulging commodity surplus has been halved, thanks largely to increased foreign sales and diversion of cropland to other uses. Yet he has been hotly criticized by many disillusioned farmers for taking too much land out of production. At 49, Freeman is one of the remaining four holdovers from Kennedy's original Cabinet.* He was well aware when he took the Agriculture appointment that his Republican predecessor, Ezra Taft Benson, considered the department a "monster" and a "sordid mess." Ben son stuck it out for eight years nonetheless, and Freeman, despite constant rumors that he is about to resign or be fired, has only 18 months to go to tie that record. At a recent press conference, he jocularly noted that nobody had asked him for quite a while about when he was going to leave. "Two months and not a word," he told reporters. "Do you know something I don't?" Apparently they don't.

*With Secretary of State Dean Rusk, Defense Secretary Robert McNamara, Interior Secretary Stewart Udall.

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