The First Whiffs of Grapeshot

Following his doctor's orders, Jerry Ford took it easy last week. At his hideaway in the Rocky Mountain resort of Vail, Colo., the President golfed, swam and partied with friends. As the days slipped by, Ford looked tanned, rested and confident--and with some reason.

Already buoyed by his hard-fought triumph over Ronald Reagan, the President got some good news from the first polls taken after the Republican Convention in Kansas City. Gallup showed Ford trailing Jimmy Carter by only 39% to 49%; in July, after the Democratic revival meeting in Manhattan, Gallup had Ford behind by a dismal 29% to 62%. Opinion Research Corp. put Carter nine points up. TIME'S own poll gave Carter only a six-point edge.

Suddenly, what had not long ago seemed to be a Carter runaway was beginning to shape up as a close race indeed. Victory will probably go to the candidate who appeals most successfully to the aspirations and fears of the vast American middle class, a group that is well off by any standard and hopes to go on bettering its lot.

New Life-Style. Sociologists and demographers can debate forever just where the boundaries of this huge middle class fall. Some experts feel that fully 75% of all Americans are now middle-or upper-class. With its growing affluence, the American middle class practices a life-style that not so long ago was the preserve of the wealthy: skiing, boating, vacations abroad, tennis--and even divorce.

It is a hard fact of political life in the U.S. that the poor and disadvantaged fail to show their strength at the polls. Political Analyst Richard Scammon, coauthor (with Ben Wattenberg) of The Real Majority, estimates that as many as 80% of the 80 million to 90 million Americans who will vote in this election could be middle-or upper-class. What is more, a Gallup poll released last May showed that 47% of those surveyed consider themselves to be right of center, whatever their party label.

The existence of such a large, well-heeled and relatively conservative-minded body of Americans presents Ford with an opportunity to overcome one of his most serious handicaps: being the nominee of a party that claims the formal allegiance of only 18% to 22% of the voters. Ford's opportunity is Carter's danger. If the Georgian moves--or is driven by Ford--too far to the left, he risks alienating large sections of the middle class. And, by background and instinct, Carter is a populist.

Carter's populism emerged before a notably elite audience last week--the beautiful people of Hollywood. He attended a fund-raising dinner for 60 movie moguls and businessmen at the opulent mansion of Lew Wasserman, board chairman of MCA Inc., a show biz conglomerate. Later, accompanied by California's Governor Jerry Brown, Carter starred at a reception given by Actor Warren Beatty at the swank Beverly Wilshire Hotel. Waiting to play Gucci-footsie with the Georgia peanut farmer were the likes of Diana Ross, Louise Lasser, Peter Falk, Carroll O'Connor and Faye Dunaway. Responding to Beatty's flip comment that the guests were "pinkos, leftists, Commies," Carter quipped, "It is a real thrill to meet the famous people here tonight. I hope I don't get to know too much about you." When Actor Tony Randall noted, "You've never met with people of this level," the Georgian retorted, "That's how I won the nomination."

Regular Cars. Then Carter spoke movingly of the problems of the poor. "Public servants like me and Jerry Brown have a special responsibility to bypass the big shots, including you and people like you, and like I was, and make a concerted effort to understand people who are poor, black, speak a foreign language, who are not well educated, who are inarticulate, who are timid, who have some monumental problem, and at the same time run the Government in a competent way . . . so that those services that are so badly needed can be delivered."

In a prepared address the next day. Carter left out a line criticizing political leaders who "ride in limousines too long." Why? Because, Carter explained, "I was kind of embarrassed" about the huge limo that the Secret Service had ordered to convey him to the Wasserman bash. The candidate thereupon directed that he be transported henceforth in regular cars, if security permits.

Carter's finest hour on his tour came the next day in Seattle when he addressed 5,000 American Legionnaires at their annual national convention. Wearing a blue and gold Legion overseas cap lettered "Georgia, Post No. 2," the candidate said that while the U.S. needs to cut military wastefulness, its armed forces should remain as strong as the Russians'. Then he gave a real zinger to the Legionnaires. He opposed a blanket amnesty for the men who had deserted or dodged the draft during Viet Nam, he said, because that implied approval of what they had done. But, he added, "I intend to grant a blanket pardon."

When the boos died down, Carter said, "I realized before I made the statement that everybody may not agree, but I'm a veteran and a Legion member. There is still a lot of division left by the Viet Nam War, but I think it is time to get it behind us." At the end of his talk, the Legionnaires gave him a standing ovation. By speaking out, Carter showed he could take a strong stand on a controversial issue in front of a hostile audience--a political plus.

Carter then flew to Des Moines, where he had scored the first victory in his campaign last January. He chatted with several giggling teen-age waitresses and noted good-humoredly that several diners nearby were wearing badges proclaiming EYE-OWA EYE-TALIANS FOR CARTER, a gibe at his back-home mispronunciation of Italians during his acceptance speech.

In a major speech in Iowa, Carter indirectly raised the Watergate specter --something he had said he would not do--by linking Ford with Richard Nixon. He criticized the Republicans for imposing embargoes on grain sales to the Soviet Union and vowed to end such embargoes "once and for all." Later, however, Carter did say that he would impose an embargo in a national emergency, such as a crop failure.

Dividing Line. That common-sense qualification was seized upon by Senator Robert Dole, Ford's running mate, whose chief function seems to be to hound the Democratic candidate. Dole had just addressed the Legionnaires in Seattle, where he roused cheers by saying that Ford would give Viet Nam evaders "no blanket pardon, no blanket amnesty, no blanket clemency." Hurrying to Des Moines, Dole noted that Carter had taken two positions on embargoes and, sounding a theme the Republicans are bound to emphasize, cited this as an example of Carter's "unreliable flexibility." Dole was reminded that Ford himself had said flatly during his acceptance speech, "No embargoes!" Dole admitted that "anyone who says 'no more embargoes' should add 'except in case of national emergency.' "

As Ford made his plans in Vail, he was plainly braced by the mandate of his party at the G.O.P. Convention. Aides noted that right up to the showdown in Kansas City, the appointed President had been conducting a damage-limiting operation in the wake of Watergate. He saw his victory over Reagan, however narrow, as the dividing line, and now believes he has a real chance of winning on Nov. 2. To shake up his organization, Ford eased out affable but ineffective Rogers Morton as campaign director (he will head a still unformed steering committee). Ford replaced Morton with James A. Baker III, 46, the bright, tightly disciplined Houston lawyer who quit as Under Secretary of Commerce and did a superb job of rounding up delegates for Ford.

Late in the week, Ford assembled John Connally, who had turned down the job of heading the Republican National Committee, Vice President Nelson Rockefeller and Dole for strategy sessions. Connally later told newsmen that he has detected "fear" and "uncertainty" about Carter, and Ford quickly seconded him, indicating that he will try to exploit this feeling. Connally also made light of Ford's gap in the polls, declaring that it was "no hill for a stepper." Ford added that he believed the American people wanted "somebody with experience" conducting foreign policy, not "somebody whose name they didn't know a year ago."

Still unanswered was the key question of just how much support Reagan would give the ticket. Ford has already sent his ten regional directors to woo Reagan supporters in every state. "The President," says a White House adviser, "will deal directly with Reagan."

The general G.O.P. strategy will be to give the campaign street-fighting chores to Dole, permitting Ford to be more "presidential." In particular, Ford is counting heavily on the debates with Carter that he proposed during his acceptance speech. Because of his familiarity with the issues, Ford is convinced he will do well. Negotiating arrangements for the debates, emissaries from the two camps are circling each other like Soviet and American underlings worrying over the table shape for an East-West conference. Ford wants the debates to begin early in September; Carter is holding out for later in the month, presumably to give him more time to prepare. Ford wants to confine the sessions to such single topics as foreign policy or national defense--his strong suits. Carter wants to cover more than one subject.

The Georgian came back from his four-day tour feeling "very, very pleased" with the way things had gone for him and for Ticket Mate Walter Mondale, who had been barnstorming in the Midwest and the East. Carter displayed a sure sense of timing on his trip, a confidence that fell short of cockiness, and even an occasional flash of wit. In Des Moines, he remarked that he was not really campaigning at all--he was just letting people know that his official campaign would begin with a Labor Day address at Warm Springs, Ga. "My wife's in Tampa letting them know when we will begin campaigning," Carter said, starting to smile. "My son Chip is in Pennsylvania telling them when we'll begin. My brother is in Virginia, and my older son is in Tennessee, just letting folks know when we'll begin."

If last week was just a warmup, the real show should be quite something.

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