A Holiday of Hope

By GEORGE J. CHURCH

With guarded optimism, the U.S. looks forward on Thanksgiving

It was, as always, a special holiday, with a mood all its own. It had its traditional parades, fiestas on main streets that make children glad adults never grow up; its football classics, often unclassically played; its Butterballs, a word sometimes as aptly applied to the stuffed consumers as it is to the birds. But there were few elaborate dress-up parties and no bulging racks of greeting cards; the occasional pasteboard turkeys that appeared in stores got lost amid the Christmas lights that began winking as soon as the Halloween decorations came down. Its very lack of glitter, as Americans discovered anew last week, makes Thanksgiving the essence of what a holiday was originally supposed to be: a day primarily for family, for reunion, even for the offering of thanks.

The day was, as well, a time both for reflection and for looking ahead. Thanksgiving is a kind of pause between seasons ("a little this side of the snow and that side of the haze," wrote Poet Emily Dickinson). This year the holiday also marked a political pause. A defeated Administration was tidying up loose ends before vanishing into history; a new Government was organizing itself to take over. The nation seemed to be looking forward, not with exuberance, but with a more realistic mood that mingled relief and hope. There was relief that the strident echoes of a divisive and interminable campaign had at last died away, and, like it or not, the nation had made a clear choice. And there was hope that a new President following a new vision could make a start toward building a more confident America.

Like many of the citizens he will lead for the next four years, Ronald Reagan prepared for the months to come by secluding himself with his family. Leaving Los Angeles in a green Marine Corps Huey helicopter for three days at his 688-acre ranch in the Santa Ynez Mountains, he was asked if he would be making his final Cabinet decisions. "Oh no," the President-elect replied, "I think I'll be doing work on the brush and the woodpile." And so he did: chopping wood with a heavy double-edged ax and riding horseback every day with his wife Nancy.

On Thanksgiving, Daughters Patty and Maureen, Maureen's fiance Dennis Revell, Brother Neil, 71, a retired advertising executive, and Neil's wife Bess came to the ranch for a turkey dinner. The weather was sparkling and the ocean view stunning from vantage points along the hills. Said Reagan: "It's very easy to talk about Thanksgiving when surrounded by this type of beauty. I'm thankful, very grateful. Maybe some time in the day everyone will find time to appreciate what we have in this country."

Jimmy Carter also boarded a Marine Corps Huey, but on the lawn of the White House. He too took off for a mountain-top retreat, and for his last Thanksgiving as President. Rosalynn, Amy, Jeff and his wife Annette, and Annette's parents, Mr. and Mrs. G.C. Davis Jr., joined the President at Camp David. He had taken along his cross-country skis in case there was snow, but he was disappointed. He made a few phone calls, one to his mother, still recuperating in Georgia from a broken hip, and another to Connecticut Governor Ella Grasso, who was in a Hartford hospital undergoing chemotherapy for cancer of the liver.

For Carter, the holiday was a welcome break from lengthy budget briefing sessions; he was determined to present Reagan with a practical spending plan for fiscal 1982, which begins next Oct. 1. His aides still remember that four years ago Gerald Ford left behind a budget they regarded as bloated and unrealistic. Carter has issued orders: "We will not do to Reagan what Ford did to us."

The other problem monopolizing Carter's attention had been at the forefront of his mind a year ago Thanksgiving, too: how to free the hostages. The day brought a declaration by militants in Tehran that the captives had been turned over to the Iranian government, which could have been a step toward their release. Still, a President--and nation--who had been repeatedly disappointed could have only guarded hope. Indeed, by week's end there was no proof that the report concerning the hostages was even true.

In Hermitage, Pa., before sitting her eight children and nine grandchildren down to dine on a 20-lb. turkey, a brisket of beef and a ham, Mrs. Cay Mack bundled them into cars for a drive to a windswept knoll, where she and other townspeople have planted 390 American flags--one for every day the hostages have been in captivity. Said Mrs. Mack: "We do it because faith and hope continue, and we will do it until the day the hostages leave Iran."

Other worries hovered just beyond the holiday tables. An inflation rate that hit 12.6% in October and a three-quarter-point jump, to 17 3/4%, in the prime interest rate of major banks reflected the troubled state of the economy. Bostonians could not ignore a financial crisis that threatens to close down the city's buses, subways and schools. In the South, the holiday brought unwelcome reminders of recent racial violence: the New Orleans police superintendent resigned after members of his department shot and killed three blacks, including two men suspected of murdering a white policeman, in early-morning raids.

But if the nation could not escape its troubles, the holiday climate enabled it to face them in a better mood.

The end of the presidential campaign had lifted one burden, even from people who did not vote for the winner. Said Atlanta Pollster Claibourne Darden: "It's like finishing an exam. You feel glad it's over, whether you did well or not." The feeling was by no means universal:

blacks were openly worried about what they saw as a revival of racism and a new President who, they feared, would be unresponsive to their concerns. Still, most Americans were looking to the new Administration with optimism. Said a Pittsburgh businessman: "We're bleeding from a thousand wounds, but people are now talking in terms of unity. They are ready to get behind Reagan, and that includes a lot of Democrats." Farmers in the Midwest and West were cautiously optimistic. Said Jerry Fricke, who raises corn in Henry County, Iowa: "We are all glad to see a new face in Washington." In Homestead, Pa., Steelworker Wilson Painter declared:

"Rumors fly around that the Homestead mill will be closed, and we'll all be thrown out in the streets. That's why I voted for Reagan; I think he can lead us out of this terrible economic slump."

Nationally, an ABC News-Louis Harris survey showed that 57% of the people questioned expected Reagan to do a good job in general, and a thumping 72% thought he would "strengthen U.S. defense capabilities to be at least equal or superior to the Soviet Union's." The President-elect inspired somewhat less hope on economic problems; 56% expected him to reduce inflation, and 54% thought he would be able to cut unemployment. Significantly, however, 62% of those inter viewed believed he would "restore the confidence of the American people in Government"--a sentiment damaged in the past by Viet Nam and Watergate.

The optimism may be difficult to sustain; even Reagan's strongest supporters had their doubts. "Twenty years of mis management is undone, and good old-fashioned capitalism is back," crowed one Oklahoma oilman last week, only to add in the next breath: "Of course, whether Reagan can translate all this into policy is another question."

All in all, the Thanksgiving mood testifies to an enduring--and endearing--trait in the American character: a willingness once an election is over to downplay old divisions and give a new leader a sporting chance to show what he can do. It is a trait for which to give abundant thanks.

By George J. Church

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