Reagan's Bandwagon Rolls

Ford drops out, but Anderson attracts crowds and attention

Can anybody stop Ronald Reagan? Not with Gerald Ford deciding to stay out of the race, after all. And not if one judged by the angry debate that four Republican candidates staged last week in Chicago's Continental Plaza Hotel. While Reagan looked on benignly, his rivals erupted into an exchange of accusations. George Bush charged John Anderson with wanting to cut Social Security payments, and Anderson interrupted, "That's not true." Illinois Congressman Philip Crane demanded to know whether Anderson would support the eventual G.O.P. winner, and Anderson retorted that he expected to be the winner. "You're in the wrong party," sniped Crane. "I didn't know we had a loyalty test," said Anderson.

Anderson was the target of the bickering partly because two polls showed him to be the slight favorite in this week's Illinois primary, but the contests so far have established Reagan as the clear leader over his divided opponents.

That was demonstrated anew last week in the South. After clobbering former Texas Governor John Connally in South Carolina, Reagan swept on to three more victories. The Californian's triumphs in Georgia and Alabama were not unexpected, but his margins were huge. Some 207,000 Republicans turned out in Alabama (compared with 53,000 in 1976) to give Reagan a 73% to 26% lead over the faltering Bush. In Georgia, Bush was battered even worse, losing to Reagan 73% to 13%. Even more significant, however, was Reagan's decisive majority in Florida, which has a Republican electorate that is more varied than those in the Deep South states. Though Bush had campaigned hard there, Reagan carried all but three of Florida's 67 counties and each of its 15 congressional districts--thus netting all of Florida's 51 delegates. In a turnout of roughly 561,000 Republicans, an 8% drop from 1976, Reagan's 57% demolished Bush, who got 30%.

While enjoying the glow of success,

Reagan declined to push a bandwagon psychology. "I don't see how you can say anyone is unstoppable," he said, "especially when you consider all that has happened so far this year." There are indeed unpredictable elements. But his national political director, Andy Carter, sounds untroubled. "Who is there left?" he asked last week. "Bush? Anderson? I don't see where they can win. Ford? If he looks at the numbers, he'll never get in."

The new phenomenon in the race, though discounted by G.O.P. professionals, was the improbable but spectacular surge by Anderson. The Illinois Congressman had defeated Bush in Vermont, virtually tied him in Massachusetts and even finished ahead of Reagan in that state. Last week, without making a single appearance in the South and with no organization there at all, Anderson won nearly 10% of the vote in both Florida and Georgia. He made a hasty visit to Washington State, where Republicans held caucuses; and although the tally of results was to take a week, he apparently won at least one of the two districts in the most populous city, Seattle. "He's the new star," said one G.O.P. leader in Wisconsin. "Where he goes, the crowds gather. He's packing the halls."

But is there any way for Anderson to stop Reagan? Anderson contends that he can. Says he: "If I give Reagan a good race and the polls show that he is beatable in the fall, then I cannot believe that the Republicans are going to be like lemmings and dash down to the sea of defeat." Anderson money is pouring in: about $150,000 a day, compared with $153,000 for all of January and $456,000 for all of 1979. Ironically, Anderson's inability to raise money early in the campaign means that he can now spend more freely in the remaining primaries than either Reagan or Bush, who are closer to reaching the legal limit on primary expenditures. With 29 primaries to go, Reagan is within $4.7 million of the $17.7 million allowed.

Although Anderson has excited many moderate Republicans, as well as independents and Democrats, his euphoric aides have a hard time explaining how he can convert that enthusiasm into enough delegates to stop Reagan. In Illinois, Anderson's popularity in the "beauty contest" voting does not automatically translate into actual delegates, since those delegates are being chosen "blind," i.e., from lists of names with no indication of who supports which candidate.

Anderson's aides expect him to do well in other states where, as in Illinois, independents and/or Democrats can vote in Republican primaries. These include Wisconsin, Ohio and with Jerry Ford out, Michigan. Anderson strategists even have their eye on Reagan's California, where they must persuade unregistered potential supporters to sign up as Republicans by May 4. Anderson expects to throw nearly $1 million into California's concluding June 3 winner-take-all primary, which anti-Reagan forces still are challenging in the courts and hope to turn into a proportional awarding of delegates. By then, contends Anderson's campaign manager, Michael MacLeod, "Reagan will be running out of money. We can beat him in his home state."

But if Anderson's dreams of a deadlocked convention come true, would not the party be more likely to turn to either Bush or Ford? As Ford's strategists pored over the realities of blocking a Reagan nomination in the limited time remaining, including the difficulty of fund raising and starring competent organizations in key states, the former President seemed genuinely undecided. Said Ford: "It is feasible, but the figures are marginal."

Party pros were skeptical that Ford could enter the race and win enough of the probable remaining Reagan delegates to stop the man who so sternly challenged him in 1976. Instead, they saw Ford, Anderson and Bush splitting the anti-Reagan vote, making Reagan look just as strong as ever in a four-man field. Ford's best hope, most politicians argued, was to avoid the kind of divisive entry that would embitter the Reaganites and the uncommitted delegates so much that they would never accept the Ford alternative at a deadlocked convention. But without Ford in the race, the dilemma of the anti-Reaganites ran, how could a convention deadlock be produced?

That was one of Ford's quandaries last week as he met in Washington with some of the hardheaded realists who would help to shape his campaign strategy. Ford also invited 18 Republican Governors to meet with him in Washington to consider his possible candidacy--but when only four agreed to come, the assembly was canceled.

Ford had expected to touch off a wave of public support from influential Republicans by making his availability widely known over the past few weeks. But he noted last week with "disappointment" that "some who have urged me the most to campaign in their districts have not joined the fray. They are hedging their bets." He was aware that his late entry into the primary campaign would be resented by those who had worked so hard for so long on behalf of other candidates.

Said Ford: "I don't want to create the impression that I'm a spoiler. The last thing I want to do is to tear apart the chance of a Republican victory. That's a worry."

While mulling over his decision, Ford addressed a Washington fund-raising dinner for the Republican Congressional Campaign Committees, and laced into Carter. Said he: "Why have we pulled our punches on Jimmy Carter? Why do we let him make himself the hero of disasters he alone created? Why, oh why, has the harshest criticism of Mr. Carter's abysmal performance come from Democrats even less equipped and more unsuited for the presidency than he is?"

Yet Ford's muted delivery dulled the barbs. Invited to stop by for a chat at the White House the next day, Ford said that he hoped Carter had not taken the political attack "personally." Replied Carter with a smile: "I didn't." But one of Carter's top political aides said of Ford: "He's going to get chewed up alive if he comes in. He's a nice man, but let's face it, his were do-nothing years."

At week's end, Ford reached what he called "a final and certain decision," one that he described as the "toughest" of his life. Standing outside his office in Rancho Mirage, Calif., he declared: "Our country is in very deep trouble. America needs a new President. I have determined that I can best help that cause by not being a candidate for President, which might further divide my party." Speaking deliberately, he went on: "I am not a candidate. I will not become a candidate. I will support the nominee of my party with all the energy I have." Without having really stepped onto the increasingly bloody battleground of the 1980 race, Jerry Ford thus became its latest casualty.

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