Hayakawa v. Tunney

If the script is implausible, the casting is more so. Tony, tall and suave young Democrat v. saucy, short and blunt old Republican. Young Democrat with twelve years' experience in elective office; old Republican with none. In the race between the Democratic transplanted Easterner and the Japanese-American-immigrant Republican, charges of racism are hurled--at the immigrant. Young Democrat is generally somber-suited, dark-tied, prim and proper. His opponent's jaunty tarn o'shanter has become a symbol for the unconventionality he savors in both dress and speech. It could happen only in California, and whether the voters will opt for slight quirkiness or substantial blandness in the final scene may not be known until late at night on Nov. 2.

The stars of this production are John Tunney, 42, the able if cautious incumbent who possesses the second most dazzling set of teeth in politics, and S.I.

Hayakawa, 70, the incautious anti-Establishmentarian, whose thin mustache appears to be a reluctant concession to the hairy types he used to do battle with on the San Francisco State College campus, where he was president during the strife-torn late '60s. In campaign appearances, the too earnest Tunney has an answer to every question, often couched in; the type of Senate-ese that Semanticist Hayakawa believes the voters no longer even try to understand.

In contrast, Hayakawa frequently admits he does not know the answers to questions that are put to him--and does not care. Asked about a California ballot proposition to legalize greyhound racing, Hayakawa snapped: "I don't give a good goddam about greyhounds. I can't think of anything that interests me less." He told another audience: "U.S. Senators don't know everything. For every damn Senator, there are 57 subjects they don't know a damn thing about." Such political humanizing goes down well, but it may have its limitations. The Tunney camp is confident that flip responses to serious questions will sooner or later turn off voters now turned on by Hayakawa's insouciance.

For Tunney, a three-term Congressman who ousted Tap Dancer George Murphy from the Senate six years ago, his impressive record should be more of an asset than it apparently is. A Congressional Research Service study shows that he sponsored more Senate bills that became law--38--than any other freshman elected in 1970. It was his amendment that cut off secret U.S. funds for the war in Angola, much to the anger of Henry Kissinger, who had urged the defeat of Soviet influence there. But Tunney is handicapped by fund raising difficulties caused by legal limitations on large donors and a lukewarm attitude toward him on the part of many small contributors, whereas Hayakawa's constituency is nothing if not enthusiastic. The aftermath of a bitter primary battle with former Peace Activist Tom Hayden (whose followers occasionally boo Tunney at rallies) still hurts. Hayden's depiction of Tunney as a "Chappaquiddick waiting to happen" and suggestions of frivolity on skiing trips with Ted Kennedy handicap Tunney--as does the fact that he was divorced during his first term. Most troublesome: his own personality. To some, Tunney's Ivy League accent comes through as an affectation--ersatz Kennedy. At times his style borders on the strident. Many hip college students, even though they may approve his strong anti-Viet Nam War stance and his Angola Amendment, sense something phony about him.

Hayakawa still benefits from the position he took against campus demonstrators. Hecklers who showed up at a rally last week chanting, "Never forgive, never forget, Racist Hayakawa, we'll get you yet!" only reawaken memories of when he climbed up on a sound truck and cut off the amplifier used by student demonstrators.

Tunney tries to fan the racist charge, scoring Hayakawa's defense of the World War II internment of Japanese nationals as "the best thing that ever happened ... because it forced them out of their segregated existence." The G.O.P. candidate also has been ambivalent toward legislation affecting the Arab boycott of Jewish-dominated corporations and is strongly committed to minority group assimilation, all of which, to Tunney, makes Hayakawa "irresponsible and elitist." Retorts Campaign Manager Dick Woodward: "Calling a Japanese immigrant who was barred from citizenship until 1954 (after immigration laws were changed) a racist is insulting voter intelligence." Says Hayakawa: "The point is to make achievements so that race doesn't make any difference."

Tunney is campaigning hard. He carries Hayakawa statements on 3-in. by 5-in. index cards, is forcing the Republican to take stands on issues that he says will show that "the word magician will turn out to be the artist of doubletalk." He often hits three cities in a single day. For his part, Hayakawa tries to ignore Tunney. "I want to stand on my own merits. Let others talk about his character. I go out and meet the people. What more is there?"

In Tunney's view, there is a great deal more, including an expanding group of voters doubtful that the Senate is the place for a man who boasts of his indifference to a variety of issues. A recent California poll showed Tunney narrowly ahead with 44% of the vote to Hayakawa's 39%, and 17% undecided. If the Democratic left wing that backed Hayden comes to the conclusion Hayden himself has reached, that Tunney is the lesser of two evils, the Democrat will probably retain his seat. But since so many surprise endings have been scripted in California, hardly anyone is leaving before the final scene.

This file is automatically generated by a robot program, so viewer discretion is required.