No. 1 and No. 2 for the Democrats

LOOKING as craggy as the coast of Maine, Edmund Sixtus Muskie last week spent eight minutes and $35,000 on national television to confirm what everyone already knew--that he was a candidate for his party's nomination for the presidency. A few days later Richard Nixon quietly followed suit. This week Hubert Humphrey was all set to end the non-suspense over his intentions with a speech in Philadelphia, thus formalizing the contest between the two 1968 Democratic running mates. In themselves, the declarations will have small effect on the relative positions of the candidates of either party; the President has a firm grip on the G.O.P., while Muskie remains the Democrats' No. 1 in the running with Humphrey a close No. 2. But the occasion offered a contrast in the styles and substance of the two leading Democrats.

No Smile. Muskie's talk was taped in the family's yellow-shingled house on Kennebunk Beach, and broadcast the following day on CBS during the final ten minutes of a shortened Glen Campbell Goodtime Hour. His performance was solid but unspectacular, flintily eloquent and unemotional; not once did he smile. If elected he promised "a new beginning," a phrase provided by his chief speechwriter, Robert Shrum, a former Lindsay aide. In inflection, tone, even phraseology, he evoked the refrain of John Kennedy's 1960 standard campaign speech: "We are going to have to do much better." Nine times Muskie started sentences with the words, "It is not good enough," as he recited a litany of national needs and failures. "We were promised an end to war," he said. "We were given a continuing war--with more American deaths, more American prisoners taken, and a resumption of massive bombing."

He charged that the Administration had broken promises to achieve price stability, prosperity and domestic peace. Although much of the criticism was aimed at the President, Muskie was curiously nonpartisan. He never mentioned the Democratic Party, and correctly, if somewhat naively, conceded that "it would be foolish to blame all the nation's ills on the present Administration," a statement that rubbed many Democrats the wrong way.

"The speech worried me," Muskie said afterward. He had reason to worry. With less than 24 hours remaining before the scheduled taping, Muskie was still without a final version, having considered and rejected four separate drafts from his speechwriters. That night he slept little; his wife Jane later told a staff aide that "Ed got up every ten minutes." The next day brought several more revisions, and not until 10 p.m., some five hours late, did the taping begin. The TV crew, hired by Muskie's TV consultant, Robert Squier, was the same that had filmed his successful 1970 election-eve speech.

Humphrey, in an unusually brief address (for him), was ready to invoke a legion of founding fathers to usher in his campaign in "this city of William Penn, who spoke of peace and brotherhood; and Thomas Jefferson, who gave us the great documents of our democracy." Such worthies, his text suggested, would take a dim view of the Nixon Administration were they present today; the G.O.P. has failed to attack every conceivable urban, rural, social, economic and ecological problem besetting the country. Specifically, "our urgent immediate need is to end the war--and to do it now." The deficiency, in Humphrey's assessment, is not one of resource--"A nation that developed a Marshall Plan to rebuild Europe can develop another to rebuild our cities" --but of will. As he sees it, "America is not sick. What we lack is leadership and vision. 'Without vision,' said Isaiah, 'the people perish.' "

In contrast to Muskie's New England reserve, Humphrey is bounding after the nomination with all the enthusiasm of a wallaby on a pogo stick. Where Muskie is somewhat ill at ease in crowds, Humphrey plunges right into what reporters call "armpit politics." He thrives on old-style tub-thumping political affairs. Muskie abhors them; he does not respond to the hoopla. Humphrey does. In Shreveport, La., last week, he burst into the lobby of his hotel, called out merrily:

"Well, how's everybody this morning?" Then he headed directly for the desk clerks and began shaking hands. Next it was the bellhops' turn, and then two startled customers in the hotel barbershop. He never says who he is, but thus far he has not had to. Says Humphrey: "There are no real differences between Ed Muskie and me on the issues. The only differences are in our personalities and our styles."

At this point Humphrey stands as the only serious alternative to Muskie for the nomination. In his own poll taken in Florida, Humphrey leads Muskie, although both narrowly trail George Wallace (see following story). While Muskie has more independent and G.O.P. support nationwide, both Gallup and Harris polls report that, with Ted Kennedy out of the race, Humphrey is the first choice of Democrats. On the other hand, many party leaders feel that Humphrey is too familiar a face, too shackled with a loser's image, to defeat Nixon in November. Muskie obviously shares this view (see box opposite page).

All of that helps to account for Humphrey's refusal to risk a party brawl by attacking Muskie. Nonetheless, intimates say, Humphrey is obviously disturbed by Muskie, not simply because of conflicting ambitions, but because he feels that Muskie on occasion has become needlessly testy toward him--and has dared to suggest that H.H.H. was responsible for the defeat of the 1968 ticket.

Fourth Party. The declarations of Gene McCarthy and Shirley Chisholm lengthened the list of Democratic candidates to ten. Chisholm made her announcement in Florida and will enter the state's March 14th primary. With no organization and little money to create one, she must rely on her novelty and intensity to attract support. McCarthy, who languidly announced in New York that he would field a slate in the June 20th primary there, could be a very serious threat to the other Democrats. He is as cynically caustic as ever. Chiding Muskie for his relatively late opposition to the war, he said: "If he'd been Paul Revere he would have arrived in Lexington two days late and said, The British are here.' " More important, he is well financed and retains much of his 1968 support among the party's left.

Should the party not nominate someone to his liking, he has threatened to mount a fourth-party effort. That could well divide the Democrats and throw the election to Nixon.

The President, of course, would like nothing better.

From San Clemente, he made a low-key announcement of his candidacy: he simply wrote to New Hampshire Secretary of State Robert L. Stark that he would allow his name to remain on the ballot for the March 7th primary. He also wrote his approval to former New Hampshire Governor Lane Dwinell, who had collected the necessary signatures to enter the President in the primary. Continuing to take an above-the-battle stance (TIME, Jan. 3), Nixon emphasized that he would "refrain from public partisan activities," at least until the convention, "in order to conduct the business of government with the minimum intrusion of purely political activity." In the past, that posture has proved to be excellent politics.* Nixon can count on opposition in both the New Hampshire and Florida primaries. Ohio Representative John Ashbrook, a conservative, has said he will enter both contests; California's McCloskey has been campaigning in New Hampshire on an antiwar platform for the last six months. Neither man is likely to intrude much on the President's political future.

* Both the Democratic National Committee and Representative Paul McCloskey felt Nixon's recent interview on CBS television was sufficiently political to request equal time.

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