McCormack: A Symbol Retires

THE day in 1962 when John William McCormack took the gavel in the U.S. House of Representatives was the fulfillment of a lifetime of labor and dreams. An Irish striver who had supported his fatherless family and raised himself from the meanest poverty of South Boston, he was the first Roman Catholic ever elected Speaker. He had worked and waited with loyalty and patience under the patronage and shadow of Sam Rayburn for more than three decades. Finally he achieved the rostrum once held by Clay and Cannon, Clark and Longworth.

Then something happened, or failed to happen. Congress embarked on the Great Society's massive legislative splurge, and McCormack faithfully hustled votes for L.B.J. as he had for earlier Presidents. But his role remained more the legislative whip's, rather than growing to that of a partner in Government. In a period when the demands on Congress for innovation multiplied, McCormack balked at change. When the Democrats lost the White House and looked to Congress for leadership, McCormack had none to offer. At a time when all political institutions and leaders were being challenged to prove their vigor and flexibility, McCormack came to be a symbol of Congress's flaws, of its arthritic seniority system and quirky procedures. No House Speaker has voluntarily retired to private life since 1903. When McCormack announced last week that after 42 years he would leave Congress at the end of his term in January, the news evoked a sense of relief in Washington.

Rare Rebellion. Age was his enemy. He was 70 when he assumed power, is 78 now when surrendering it. "I know how old I am," he said last week. "I don't apologize for it." Nor does he apologize for anything else. Despite his years, he worked hard as Speaker, brokering for legislation, leaving the podium to engage in floor debate more than any of his predecessors. His life has been as lean and free of frivolity as his gaunt face. His only interests besides public business are his wife Harriet and his nephew Edward, who substituted for the children McCormack never had.

McCormack is a man of codes and creeds. He found all he needed in party loyalty and Catholic piety, though sometimes there were conflicts. John Kennedy's original aid-to-education bill omitted funds for parochial schools, thereby provoking one of McCormack's rare rebellions against a Democratic President. McCormack prevailed. They called him the "Archbishop" in the cloakrooms, and he resented it. Despite his close association with Southern Democrats throughout his House career, McCormack was also a strong advocate of civil rights legislation. He once denounced a Mississippi Democrat on the floor for his bigotry. He was always cordial toward the Jewish community, and his first appointment to the Naval Academy was a Jewish youth: some of his constituents called him "Rabbi John."

His New Deal brand of liberalism made him a spender. His personal background and early congressional experience -he was the chairman of a Special Un-American Activities Committee in the 1930s -made him a strident antiCommunist. Issues, however, concerned him less than the party line. As with other old-school legislators, his capital was discipline and personal obligation. Once while presiding over the House, he noticed a conservative Democrat lobbying several New Jersey members in the back of the chamber. McCormack left his place and marched on the group. "This is a McCormack bill," he told the Jerseyites. "Are you for McCormack or for this fellow?" He kept their votes.

Durability Test. McCormack took personally the uprisings against him. One move to replace him in 1968 crumbled before a test could be made because Chairman Wilbur Mills of the Ways and Means Committee declined to be the opposition's candidate for Speaker. Mills, an Arkansan popular with fellow Southerners, is one of the few members who might have been able to rally a majority of the Democratic caucus against McCormack. Last year part of the liberal faction put up Arizona's Morris Udall, but a coalition of Southerners and members loyal to big city Democratic machines re-elected McCormack 178 to 58.

The best test of McCormack's durability came last fall when a senior aide, Martin Sweig, and a longtime friend. Nathan Voloshen, enmeshed the Speaker's office in an influence-peddling scandal. McCormack, under heavy criticism outside the House, insisted that he would run again both for his seat and for the Speakership. He immediately began soliciting support and got more than enough pledges to assure continued power.

Last fall's declaration, however, was merely a display of defiance. He was not going to show his enemies -mostly younger members who oppose the war and want to reform House procedures -that he was quitting while under attack. Actually, he had told associates two years ago that he was reluctant to seek another House term in 1968. He changed his mind after Lyndon Johnson announced his retirement. "It would look," he said then, "as if everyone was abandoning a sinking ship."

No Nincompoops. He might have run again in 1970 despite everything were it not for the rapidly failing health of Mrs. McCormack, 85. The Speaker has been spending much of his spare time nursing her. That burden, together with his age and his devotion to duty, may have become too heavy. By announcing his retirement in May, he gave his Boston allies time to organize a primary campaign against independent candidates who are seeking his congressional seat. "I didn't want to hold off," he said, "and let some nincompoop get the nomination."

There is little doubt who McCormack's successor as Speaker will be if the Democrats hold a House majority in the 92nd Congress. Just as McCormack moved up from majority leader upon Rayburn's death, the present majority leader, Carl Albert of Oklahoma, 62, is assured of succession. Slightly more flexible than McCormack on questions of congressional organization, slightly less adamant in support of the war, Albert is acceptable to all the Democratic factions. Both Mills and Udall promptly announced that they would back Albert.

The fights next January will be over the second and third spots in the leadership, majority leader and whip; for these posts there is no shortage of candidates, and lively scraps between reformers and old-liners could develop. But it is the Speaker who sets the chamber's pace and tone. McCormack, the last man born in the 19th century to hold top congressional leadership, never made it to high school and never got over the New Deal tradition of a Congress that takes its cue from the White House. Albert, a Rhodes Scholar and affable companion, is likely to be able better to achieve consensus among all House Democrats, and is expected to take a more activist view of the loyal opposition's role.

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