Around Two Worlds in Two Days

Jimmy Carter flew out to meet the people last week--and landed in two sharply different worlds:

>In Clinton, Mass., a faded, heavily Democratic mill town (pop. 13,300) west of Boston, friendly citizens applauded the President's every remark at a folksy town assembly. Two sons of Edward and Katherine Thompson, a merry middle-class Irish couple with whom Carter spent the night, even joked about having a Chief Executive in their home. "Should we stand when he comes in?" asked Edward Thompson, 27. "No," quipped his brother Richard, 16, "we're going to kneel."

>Next day, at that diplomatic microcosm in Manhattan, the U.N., Carter got a reception that was correct, attentive, but short of enthusiastic. The delegates were keenly interested in hearing him outline his strongly held, highly moralistic view of U.S. foreign policy priorities, but they found only four occasions to applaud during his 25-minute address. While many diplomats welcomed Carter's straight talk on human rights and other matters, one Western envoy sounded a fairly widely heard caveat: "A splash of fresh air is good, but if you open your window too wide, a gale will blow through." Nevertheless, other delegates privately praised Carter's general approach. Explained one: "He apparently is prepared to take public risks for gambles that may pay off. For example, he is right on the Middle East. What he says corresponds to the basic truths of the situation."

Broader Audience. In a sense, the Clinton sojourn was more important to Carter's aims than the U.N. appearance. It is in down-home Middle America that he hopes to build the constituency that will support him when he has to make the tough decisions on foreign and domestic problems. It is partly to open the foreign affairs dialogue to a broader audience that Carter has been tossing about such code phrases as "defensible borders" for Israel and "a Palestinian homeland," with little apparent regard for the experts' delicate definitions.

There were no surprises in Carter's U.N. speech, which was designed to place an early new emphasis on what he called "this house where the shared hopes of the world can find a voice."

Carter drew his warmest applause when he urged again that the U.S. and Soviet Union seek not only to limit nuclear weapons but also eventually to achieve "a deep reduction in the strategic arms of both sides." Even Oleg Troyanovsky, chief Soviet delegate, applauded. At the same time, Carter continued to give hell to the Russians for their violation of human rights (see THE WORLD) and tried to separate this issue from disarmament. Whether such a separation is possible, Secretary of State Cyrus Vance may find out as he heads for Moscow at week's end in a distinctly strained atmosphere.

The President pledged strong U.S. support of multilateral efforts to aid undeveloped nations, offering a somewhat oversimplified analogy to prove his earnestness. He cited his origins in the agrarian U.S. South, "which for many years did not have the advantages of adequate transportation or capital or management skills or education," as a reason for his special sympathy.

In his brisk speech, Carter also stressed that the industrial nations must get their own economies under control, putting special emphasis on checking inflation. He pledged support to those seeking majority rule "through peaceful means" in southern Africa and proudly announced that he would sign a congressionally approved new ban on the import of chromium from what Carter tersely called "the illegal regime in Rhodesia." He said that the U.S. is willing to "seek reconciliation with all states which are ready to work with us in promoting global progress and global peace"--an apparent reference to Viet Nam and Cuba.

Over all, Carter was signaling his desire to take a more serious (and certainly less pugnacious) approach to the U.N. than his immediate predecessors.

On his two-day outing, Carter had gone to New York from a grass-roots meeting on energy problems in Charleston, W. Va. There the state's coalmining unions have been battling mine owners over safety and health conditions, environmentalists have been decrying strip mining, and others have been urging expanded coal production as vital to aiding both the state's economy and the nation's fuel situation. As Carter arrived with a neatly balanced team of experts--including Energy Assistant James Schlesinger, Secretary of the Interior Cecil Andrus and the Environmental Protection Agency's chief, Douglas Costle--anti-strip-mining demonstrators brandished signs saying TOPLESS MOUNTAINS ARE OBSCENE.

Carter and his aides joined West Virginia's Democratic Governor Jay Rockefeller, union leaders, mine operators, environmentalists and selected state citizens around a blue felt-covered table in a lively 2/ 1/2-hour discussion of energy problems.

Carter candidly conceded that his energy proposals, scheduled to be completed by April 20, will be controversial. He said that he expected his popularity rating to fall by 10% to 15% as Americans "face the brutal fact that we are all going to have to work together to deal with the impending crises ... as energy runs out." Carter can afford some drop in the percentage of citizens who approve his presidency; although he won the November election with a scant 51 % of the vote, Gallup last week placed his approval rating at a healthy 71%.

The President seemed to relish most of the more personal moments with unprominent citizens. In Charleston, he table-hopped through the cafeteria at the West Virginia State Capitol. At his own table, he discussed with State Information Clerk Janet Ellis the difficulty of eating a cheeseburger gracefully. As he picked French fries offa plate on his tan plastic tray with his fingers, he asked Janet how she felt about the Equal Rights Amendment (she was all for it).

Yet it was in Clinton that Carter made his biggest hit. Standing in front of a painted sylvan scene in the yellow brick town hall, he drew whistles and cheers from the 850 residents who had won admission to the meeting in a raffle. They laughed loudly when he quipped, "You were the ones who lost." They roared their delight as he asked everyone present to join in a "happy birthday" greeting to beaming Alan Jewett, chairman of Clinton's board of selectmen, who had introduced the President simply as "Jimmy Carter."

During the 90-minute meeting, Carter repeated in the flesh his effective electronic phone-in performance as townsfolk peppered him with questions. "If I am slow and deliberate, it is because I have never spoken to a President before," apologized William T. McGrail, a lawyer. Putting McGrail at ease, Carter interjected: "I took my first ride today in Air Force One. I have never met a Democratic President in my life--so we have got some things in common." The questions, proffered mostly by tieless men in leisure suits or jackets and women in pantsuits, ranged in focus from local to cosmic. Would Carter help get a highway built? "I won't promise you, but I won't forget your suggestion either."

In the predominantly Irish Catholic community, finding double reason to celebrate on St. Patrick's Day, Carter was applauded for insisting that the Federal Government must do whatever it lawfully can to discourage abortions. Said Carter, grinning: "That's the first time I was ever applauded on an abortion answer."

The week's most striking symbol of Carter's togetherness with the people was his overnight stay at the Thompson household. Edward Thompson, 56, an office manager for a beer distributor, and his family were selected by White House aides for the Jimmy-slept-here honor because they are gregarious and uncontroversial; security was also a consideration (a vacant house across the street was available for Secret Service use). After Carter entered the Victorian frame home on Chestnut Street, Edward Thompson explained kiddingly that two of his eight children had not yet returned from the town meeting "because some long-winded guy" had talked so long. Carter put his arm around Mrs. Thompson's waist and kissed her lightly. "He's hugging Mom!" exclaimed Daughter Mary, 25, peering through a window. "No, he's fooling around with her," joked Son William, 28.

Excuse Jane. Almost as soon as he arrived at the Thompson home, which was decorated with green lights and adorned with religious statues and bowling trophies, Carter took off his coat and tie. The talk steered clear of politics, ranged about their families. Carter's work, small town life. "Can we call you Jimmy?" Mrs. Thompson asked. Yes, said the President. Carter went to sleep in the Thompsons' own bedroom at 10:30 p.m. He was up and showering in the bathroom down the hall by 6:30 a.m.

Before Carter left, he wrote notes for two of the teenagers' teachers. "Memo to teacher from Jimmy Carter," said one. "Please excuse Jane for being late. She had a guest in her house."* Said Thompson as the President departed: "If you ever come back to Clinton, feel free to stop by."

*The Thompsons, rather than the teachers, will keep the notes.

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