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Jimmy Carter's Big Breakthrough
(TIME, May 10, 1976) -- The 1976 script called for the longest, most
grueling run of Democratic primaries and caucuses in U.S. history. In an effort
to make the selection system more open, the Democrats had rewritten their ground
rules for campaigning and Congress drastically tightened the laws on financing.
Nearly a dozen serious candidates, some household names and others almost
unknown, had formally entered the fray. On the sidelines hovered two of the
party's most formidable figures. According to all the conventional wisdom, the
process was going to be a marathon shambles, producing nearly five months of
furious activity but probably settling nothing.
Suddenly, only third of the way through the obstacle course, the race was all
but over. Starting out 17 months ago with no national political base, name
recognition or backing from powerful interest groups, onetime Georgia Governor
Jimmy Carter had carved out on his own a broad constituency of small-town and
rural voters, blue-collar ethnics, white-collar suburbanites, inner-city blacks.
Week after week, winning primaries in the North, South and Midwest, he steadily
thinned the ranks of his rivals. Last week by triumphing decisively and against
formidable odds in Pennsylvania's pivotal primary, he all but crushed his
remaining opposition, including Democratic Senior Statesman Hubert Humphrey.
The votes had hardly been counted when James Earl Carter Jr., one of the most
phenomenal politicians to rise on the American political scene in this century,
was talking about what kind of a President he would be. In an interview last
week, he mused to TIME Correspondent Dean E. Fischer: "Most of my attitude
toward Government is very aggressive. I wouldn't be a quiescent or a timid
President."
Then he talked about his heroes. "My favorite modern President is Harry
Truman.
He exemplified the kind of Administration I would like to have." Carter said
that he admired Truman's honesty, vision in foreign policy and "closeness with
the American people." He also had a high regard for John Kennedy as a "much more
inspirational President" than Truman, and for Lyndon Johnson's deep concern for
the poor and the weak and his skill in pushing legislation through Congress. He
spoke of Winston Churchill as the pre-eminent leader of our time, of Charles de
Gaulle as uniquely expressing "the ideals and hopes and pride of the French,"
and of Mohandas Gandhi as the embodiment of "quiet courage."
Obviously, no mortal can hope to exhibit all of these qualities, though some
of
Carter's detractors wonder whether he knows that. No matter; in the euphoria of
last week, most things must have seemed possible to Jimmy Carter, as he rode the
crest of his campaign for presidency. So certain was he, with good reason, of
winning the Democratic nomination at Madison Square Garden in July that he began
making a list of whom he might choose as a running mate. He says that his most
important considerations are to pick someone who is qualified to step up as
President if necessary, a person "compatible with me on basic issues and general
philosophy" and offering "some sort of geographical or other balance on the
ticket." According to insiders at the Democratic national Committee, Carter's
list includes two liberal U.S. Senators: Minnesota's Walter F. Mondale, and
Illinois's Adlai E. Stevenson. Choosing either would strengthen Carter with
liberals and party hierarchs, the two groups that have remained most aloof from
him.
But they are not likely to do so much longer. Like other Democrats, liberals
and
party leaders most want a winner, which Carter persuasively showed himself to be
last week. His twelve- point margin in Pennsylvania proved conclusively that he
could topple tough opposition in a big Northern industrial state. In Texas, his
come-from-behind victory over Senator Lloyd M. Bentsen showed that not even a
popular favorite son could slow the Carter bandwagon. The overwhelming successes
-- he has won eight of the first ten primaries -- stunned old-line political
leaders.
His victories all but eliminated the other Democratic candidates. He had long
ago knocked out George Wallace, drubbing him in Florida and North Carolina.
Henry Jackson was humiliated in Pennsylvania, where he had expected to sweep to
victory with heavy union and political-machine support. At week's end he decided
to drop out of the race. "I will remain a candidate and I do not intend to
endorse any other candidate at this time," said Scoop to a group of supporters.
"I am a realist. Simply stated, we are out of money." Asked to assess Carter's
chances for the nomination, Jackson declared frankly: "He is an open-field
runner at this time."
Morris Udall, the primaries' perpetual runner-up, pushed on with
characteristic
good humor, but nobody took his candidacy very seriously. Latecomers Frank
Church and Jerry Brown were still in the running, but some political analysts
speculated that Brown at best was running for Vice President and Church perhaps
for Secretary of State.
That left only Hubert Humphrey. After Pennsylvania, his telephones almost
jangled off the hook as old friend begged him to step out of the sidelines and
plunge into active campaigning. They pleaded that only he could stop Carter,
whom many organization Democrats mistrust as an unknown and untested outsider.
Time and again Humphrey met with longtime supporters and then pondered his
decision one night.
Next day, looking exhausted, he flabbergasted friends by announcing that he
had
decided to stay out, but would still hold himself available in the "unlikely"
event of a convention deadlock. The old (64) warrior explained that he lacked
the money and organization to mount his fourth campaign for the White House. Nor
did he relish the possibility of another defeat.
Thus, the field was left to Jimmy Carter. Barring some unforeseen twist, he
will
be the Democrats' 1976 nominee. There was, at first, no stampede among party
leaders to board his bandwagon. New Jersey Governor Brendan T. Byrne called on
all 37 fellow Democratic Governors to unify the party by getting behind Carter,
but initially drew no response. Still, no one seriously thought that Carter
could be stopped.
Said a top member of the Democratic national Committee: "Carter's the winner.
His only problem will be maintaining interest in his campaign through the rest
of the primaries." Chicago Mayor Richard J. Daley call any lingering thoughts of
a brokered convention "hogwash." President Ford, who was badly set back in
Texas, agreed: "The only way I can see that they could stop him now is to have
smoke-filled room, brokered convention, and I think the public would object to
that."
Ford was surprised by the events. He had long predicted that the Democratic
nominee would be Humphrey and was obviously disappointed when he bowed out. It
would have been easier to fight familiar old Hubert and his familiar liberal
ideas before an electorate that has grown weary and suspicious of still more
Government programs. A strong economy, highly probable in the third and fourth
quarters, would have helped Ford more against Humphrey than it may against
Carter. The White House was plainly scared of his winning appeal as an outsider
crusading against the old pols and summoning Americans to believe in the
nation's basic strength and decency. Ford has not devised a strategy for running
against Carter, except to stress his own "proven record" against the Georgian's
comparative inexperience. Said the President: "Well, we don't really know what
Jimmy Carter stands for."
There was still the possibility that Carter might make a major gaffe that
would
cost him the nomination. Said he: "It would be unlikely for me to be stopped
unless I make a mistake." Indeed, Carter -- much like George McGovern in 1972 --
has burst onto the national scene so quickly that he has not yet undergone many
political stress tests. With the single exception of his "ethnic purity" remark,
from which he recovered quickly, he has escaped the blunders that have buried
candidates in the past. But if he should stumble, many of the party's elders --
whose first choice Carter clearly is not -- will push Humphrey again.
Taking nothing for granted, Carter viewed his big victories in Pennsylvania
and
Texas as only the completion of the first phase of his campaign. Phase Two will
involve consolidating and expanding his support by campaigning in all of the
remaining contests -- 28 primaries and caucuses. His opponents are not active in
many primary states, and they will have a tough time raising campaign money.
Carter may not win them all, of course. This week Alabama is expected loyally
to
hand Governor George Wallace most of its 35 delegates. Next week, in Nebraska,
Carter faces Church, who is concentrating much of his money and personal
campaigning on the state in hopes of scoring an upset. In Maryland, where Carter
will take on Brown on May 18, he leads, but Brown, who declared his candidacy
only two months ago, received a tumultuous welcome during his first campaign
foray to the state last week. His organization had planned for about 500
supporters at a reception at the Baltimore Hilton; 2,500 showed up. Said Brown,
whose background as a Jesuit seminarian makes him Carter's equal in quoting
Scripture: "It has been written that the first shall be last and the last shall
be first."
Carter's muscle was amply displayed last Saturday in the Texas primary.
Favorite
Son Lloyd Bentsen had spent years setting up a statewide political organization,
and his delegate slates included many of Texas' best known Democrats. Carter
spent only few days in the state, and offered this blunt message: "The only
choice is between one who can be President and one who wants to broker or horse
trade delegates." In the end , Carter crushed Bentsen, winning 93 of the 98
delegate contests.
His margin in Texas was obviously widened by his victory four days earlier in
Pennsylvania. Though many analysts had thought that Carter's love-and-compassion
theme would not go over well in the raucous atmosphere of steel-and-coal towns,
he captured 65 of 67 Pennsylvania counties. He lost only in Philadelphia, which
Mayor Frank L. Rizzo's machine carried for Jackson, and in Philadelphia's
liberal suburban Montgomery County, which went to Udall. Carter was particularly
delighted that he carried Gettysburg, site of the bloodiest battle of the Civil
War. And he got off one of his few campaign quips: "We ought to tell the
Georgians that we finally won in Gettysburg."
In all, he carried 37% of the Pennsylvania vote to Jackson's 25%, Udall's 19%
and a mere 11% for George Wallace. Though Jackson had predicted that regardless
of how the popular vote went, he would win the largest share of the delegates,
Carter got 64 delegates v. only 19 for Scoop, who finished not only behind
Uncommitted (46) but also behind Udall (22).
Carter's strength in the heavily unionized western Pennsylvania steel-mill
country -- in the face of all-out opposition from union and party leaders -- was
startling. Among union members, he beat Jackson 36% to 27% according to the New
York Times/CBS News poll. Moaned Ernie Rewolinski of Harrisburg, a union leader
who ran as an uncommitted delegate: "The Carter people knocked me right off.
People are more sophisticated than they used to be. They headed straight for the
presidential candidate."
Indeed, labor's efforts on behalf of Jackson were uncommonly inept. While
praising him, many labor leaders made clear that their hearts were really with
Humphrey. Voters were turned off by their perception of Jackson as a surrogate
for Humphrey, as well as by Jackson's dull, plodding campaign and his shrill and
far-fetched effort to blame Carter for Pennsylvania's high unemployment rate.
Scoop may have been hurt by his identity with the labor-political establishment.
Rizzo's support was a mixed blessing because the mayor is unpopular in much of
the state. Neither the faction-ridden state party nor the slow- starting labor
machine was able to mount effective support for Jackson.
Yet Carter won chiefly by his own skillful campaigning. He spent far more
time
(eleven days) in Pennsylvania than he had in New York and Massachusetts, two
states where he had finished a dismal fourth. He benefitted from a swelling
corps of volunteers, enthusiasts slightly older than but nonetheless reminiscent
of the "Children's Crusade" of the 1968 campaign of Eugene McCarthy. They
swarmed in from Florida, Illinois, New Hampshire and other states where Carter
has campaigned, and, of course, from Georgia. In Pennsylvania, they canvassed by
telephone, passed out campaign pamphlets and, most important, worked the polls
on primary day, explaining the complicated ballot and pointing out the Carter
delegates to voters. A group of about 50 volunteers, assigned to the Pittsburgh
area, slept on rented cots set up in a funeral parlor that had gone out of
business.
The Southerner's supposed "ethnic purity" gaffe may actually have helped him:
the controversy over the remark kept Carter on front pages and on television
news programs for days. His money- starved opponents could not compete with
Carter in paid advertising. None of the candidates has collected matching funds
since the Federal Election Commission temporarily went out of business. But
Carter, since his Wisconsin primary victory, has found it easier to raise money
than either Jackson or Udall, both of whom have been dogged by "loser" images.
Additionally, Carter has an efficient fund-raising operation, led by Alabama
Lawyer Morris Dees, the former McGovern finance director whose direct- mail
operations reached hundreds of thousands of contributors to previous Democratic
campaigns. Since the federal fund cutoff on March 23, Carter contributions have
topped $600,000, far more than the amounts raised by Jackson and Udall.
After the Pennsylvania primary, the TIME-Yankelovich poll showed that Carter
had
achieved a new status in the minds of voters; he is no longer considered just
one of the pack but a man who, at least for the moment, has a fair chance of
beating Ford. Thus people are beginning to examine him even more closely and
critically. They may be familiar with his basic biography: the rearing in rural
Plains, Ga.; education at Annapolis (where he ranked 59th in a class of 809);
his brief career in the Navy (in which he served under his idol, Admiral Hyman
Rickover); success as a peanut farmer and wholesaler; his rise as a state
politician and now, at 51, a national figure. There also seems to be something
unknowable about him, an inner man that has not been -- and may never be --
revealed.
That mystery in Carter may be a small part of the answer to a large question
that perplexes so many Americans, including a good many politicians and
professional politician watchers who are unaccustomed to perplexity in such
matters: What is the magic, the secret, the explanation, of Carter's astonishing
success with the electorate so far? Certainly there is the smile, the courtly
Southern charm, the flattering intensity with which he talks -- and listens --
to individuals. There is his reassuring sense of himself, his evident
intelligence, his successful projection of worthy goals beyond his own private
ambitions. Then, of course, he lacks the scars of national politics; he seems
free of entanglements with party bosses, special interests and power blocs. His
is a fresh political face at a time when there seems much weariness with
familiar ones.
Such obvious elements do not, however, satisfy the perplexed, who feel there
must be more to Carter's public chemistry. Undoubtedly there is. Part of it may
be his quietness. Carter's words on paper sometimes can seem banal or even
inflammatory; the spoken tone is appealing. Many of the young seem drawn to him
partly because, unlike so many of their elders, he does not bellow at them. All
sorts of other Americans find parts of Jimmy Carter they seem able to identify
with, and he promotes his man-of-many-parts image assiduously. And Carter wears
his hard-won successes easily, without letting his pride slip into an unseemly
boastfulness.
On a deeper level, Carter's call for a moral revival of sorts seems to have
struck home in the American psyche, vintage 1976. Battered by the Vietnam War,
Watergate, scandals and abuses in high places, many Americans clearly welcome
Carter's confidence in them and the worth of their country, and his soft- spoken
promise to restore a moral purpose to national life. If the economy continues to
improve and no foreign scares intervene, this spiritual issue could transcend
all others this year.
Whatever the alchemy at work, Carter fascinates some people and bewilders
others, arousing both great confidence and, particularly among some Northern
liberals, deep skepticism. Most politicians, journalists and others who see him
close up come away convinced that he has a first-class mind. Some are also
repelled by the cold self-assurance.
Michael Novak, a Catholic theologian and perceptive analyst of U.S. politics,
wrote recently in the Washington Post: "The source of discomfort is that they
[Northerners] do not know at first hand the pressures that shaped him, his inner
demons and his inner angels. They can't confidently imagine scenarios of various
pressures upon him and predict how he will act. He is, from his point of view,
and outsider breaking in on their world. But they are, from their point of view,
outsiders who can't quite understand what makes him tick."
Nothing arouses more fascination, suspicion and questions than Carter's
deep-seated convictions. He contends that he does not inject into his
campaigning. But the two are inescapably intertwined, producing a blend of
William Jennings Bryan's religious fervor and Woodrow Wilson's moral
idealism.
The U.S. has perhaps 40 million Protestant Evangelicals, both black and
white,
and they are the fastest growing element in American Christianity. They also
constitute a natural constituency for Carter, responding enthusiastically to his
frequent use of words and phrases that identify him as one of them: love,
brotherhood, decency, purity, compassion. His preaching of traditional moral
values also appeals to many others, notably blue-collar Catholic "ethnics."
Typically, a black clergyman in Philadelphia praised him as a man "with a Bible
in one hand and a ballot box in the other."
To skeptics, Carter's language often sounds like a pious facade. That,
decidedly, is not the case. To Carter, his religion has always been a central
and natural part of his life -- "like breathing," as he says. Like many
Southerners, he finds no contradiction in mixing an earthy appreciation of the
good, secular life with the harder demands of Evangelicalism. But while religion
has always been an integral part of his makeup, he dates his life as a
spiritually reborn Christian only from 1967.
As Carter and his sister, Evangelist Ruth Carter Stapleton, tell the story,
he
was upset over losing his first for Governor and was questioning his personal
values and goals. In the course of his search for meaning, he took a long walk
with his sister in the pine woods near his 200-acre peanut farm. Recalls Carter:
"Ruth asked me if I would give up anything for Christ, if I would give up my
life and my possessions -- everything. I said I would. Then she asked if I would
be willing to give up politics. I though a long time and had to admit that I
would not." His sister warned him that until he could, he would be plagued with
self- doubts. Stapleton says that Carter cried during the conversation, but he
has no such recollection. In any event, the experience led directly to his being
"born again." [In the third chapter of John's Gospel, Jesus tells the Pharisee
Nicodemus that only those who are spiritually "born again" will enter the
kingdom of God. The passage -- and the phrase -- are favorites of Evangelical
Protestants; their faith emphasizes the personal experience of turning to
Christ.] Says he: "I established a more intimate relationship with Christ. I
developed a deeper sense of inner peace."
Thereafter, he traveled to other parts of Georgia and to Pennsylvania and
Massachusetts "to witness among people who don't know about Christ." To
questioners, he says that in politics he claims no "special relationship" with
God. Says Carter: "I don't pray to God to let me win an election, I pray to ask
God to let me do the right thing." As Governor, he prayed often, on his knees,
in the seclusion of a small private room next to his office.
Carter is not a strict Evangelical. When he was Governor, he outraged some
Southern Baptist clergymen by calling Georgia's ban on Sunday liquor sales
hypocritical because many people patronized bootleggers on the Sabbath. One of
his first acts was to end the pompous religious service that his predecessor as
Governor, Lester Maddox, held in the state house every morning. Carter thought
that the service was pointless.
The prime source of his belief is the Bible, but he reads it somewhat
critically. Says he: "I find it difficult to question Holy Scripture, but I
admit that I do have trouble with Paul sometimes, especially when he says that a
woman's place is with her husband, and that she should keep quiet and cover her
head in church. I just can't go along with him on that." Carter also has read
deeply from the works of Reinhold Niebuhr, Karl Barth, Paul Tillich, and Soren
Kierkegaard and quotes from them. In particular, he is fond of this sentence
from Niebuhr: "The sad duty of politics is to establish justice in a sinful
world."
Some critics suggest that if he were elected, Carter's religious life might
intrude on his acts as President; the objection echoes the fears that were
raised about John F. Kennedy's Catholicism. Like Kennedy, Carter vows a strict
separation of church and state, and denies that there is any conflict between
the two. Says he: "The Bible says, `Render unto Caesar the things which are
Caesar's and unto God the things that are God's.' It doesn't say you have to
live two lives. It doesn't say you have to be two people." On the contrary, he
maintains that his religious convictions "will make me a better President.'
Some detractors regard Carter's ambition as exceeding even the generous quota
to
be expected of any presidential candidate. In Carter's case, there is an almost
total humorlessness and an implacable quality to the pursuit of all his goals.
Says a Georgia government official who knows him well: "He's got rock- hard,
iron-hard confidence. He's like twisted steel cable inside." Trying to reassure
an audience in Green Bay, Wis., that he was not dangerously ambitious, Carter
pointed out that he had not always wanted to be President. Said he, in all
seriousness: "When I was at Annapolis, the only thing I wanted to be was Chief
of Naval Operations." Later, as a junior officer aboard the submarine Pomfret,
he doggedly refused to be kept from his duties by seasickness. Recalls Warren
Colegrove, who was the ship's engineering officer: "He'd take his [vomit] bucket
with him to the bridge. He was a gutsy guy."
But the inner qualities that give rise to his driving ambition, iron will and
unmovable adherence to moral principles are also the source of what he admits is
a major failing: his reluctance to compromise. His rigidity caused him to
repeated trouble with the Georgia legislature. In 1974, while pressuring the
legislators to pass a consumer protection bill, he scornfully described them as
the worst in the state's history. Outraged, they stopped work for several days
and bitterly complained until Carter retreated from his harsh words. But he
stopped short of an apology. Indeed, Carter's refusal to yield on some points
nearly caused the defeat of his major accomplishment as Governor -- streamlining
the state government by reducing the number of agencies from about 300 to 22.
Recalls a top Georgia politician: "He couldn't pass any of his reorganization
bill. We had to get it passed for him -- or about 60% of it anyway." More
recently, Carter -- who admits to being "pretty rigid" -- showed his stubborn
streak by not backing off from his offensive language in the "ethnic purity"
flap until he was clearly in danger of losing much of his black support.
Like most politicians, Carter is a professional collector of people. At one
time
or another, he has described as "good friends of mine" such retiring folks as
Edward Kennedy, Hubert Humphrey, Golda Meir, Henry Kissinger, Bob Dylan and Burt
Reynolds. There is probably no more bizarre relationship in American politics
than the one that exists between him and Hunter Thompson, author of Fear and
Loathing: On the Campaign Trail 1972 and other boozy, spaced-out analyses of the
American body politic. Thompson met Carter in 1974 and a University of Georgia
Law Day ceremony, where Carter gave an off-the-cuff speech. So impressed was
Thompson by the speech that he got a tape recording of it, which he often plays
at odd hours of the night.
In that address, Carter said in part: "One of the sources for my
understanding
about the proper application of criminal justice and the system of equity is
from reading Reinhold Niebuhr -- The other source of my understanding about
what's right and wrong in this society is from a friend of mine, a poet named
Bob Dylan. After listening to his records...I've learned to appreciate the
dynamism of change in a modern society." Carter went on to scold the lawyers for
not caring more about the legal and moral rights of society's underdogs. He
praised Martin Luther King Jr., "who was perhaps despised by many in this room
because he shook up our social structure...and demanded simply that black
citizens be treated the same as white citizens." Added Carter: "As a farmer, I'm
not qualified to assess the characteristics of the 9,100 inmates in the Georgia
prisons, 50% of whom ought not to be there. They ought to be on probation or
under some other supervision...I don't know, it may be that poor people are the
only ones who commit crimes, but I do know that they are the only ones who serve
prison sentences."
Though he speaks almost mystically of the "intense friendships" that he has
formed with Americans almost everywhere, Carter has few real cronies, and he
keeps even them at arm's length. He shares his most intimate thought and
feelings with only one person -- his wife Rosalynn. Says Gerald Rafshoon, an
Atlanta friend who handles Carter's campaign advertising: "You don't get that
close to Jimmy because he retreats. His wife Rosalynn is his best friend." With
her he is unabashedly affectionate, holding her hand at almost every
opportunity. Says a friend: "You can tell they were high-school
sweethearts."
Nonetheless, Carter judiciously uses the advice of old campaign associates.
Among them: Campaign Manager Jordan, Press Secretary Jody Powell, Adman
Rafshoon, Campaign Treasurer R.J. Lipshutz and Charles Kirbo, a top Atlanta
lawyer. With Carter three years ago, they drew up what he calls his "careful,
detailed, meticulous" plan to win the presidency. They began by methodically
researching every presidential election since World War II and reading almost
every major book about U.S. Presidents and campaigning. Carter studied voting
trends and population patterns in all 435 congressional districts. The plan
called for entering all of the primaries and caucuses on the assumption that he
could create enough momentum in the early contests to breeze through the later
ones. It was an amazingly accurate forecast of what indeed happened.
Associates find Carter to be a demanding boss but one who readily delegates
authority. Says Rafshoon: "He doesn't get involved in details or try to do your
work for you. He expects the best possible work; if he doesn't get it, he gets
rid of you." Rarely does Carter lose his temper. When something goes wrong, says
Rafshoon, "he becomes cold and methodical."
Carter always has campaigned as something of a loner. Other candidates have
large entourages of hirelings and hangers-on. Not Carter. To an astonishing
degree, he is conducting a one-man campaign. On a recent trip, his official
party consisted of four low-level aides (and ten reporters).
As a campaigner, he comes across as intelligent, quick and deeply informed,
with
a good grasp of most issues, though he is weakest on foreign policy. "I've got a
lot to learn, and I know it," he repeats to groups of supporters, "but I think I
am able to learn from good friends like you." His interests range far beyond
politics. He is well read; his favorite authors include James Agee, William
Faulkner and Dylan Thomas, though most recently Carter has concentrated on
politics, philosophy, history, foreign affairs, taxation policy and the like.
His tastes in music range from Dmitri Shostakovich to Dylan. While politicking,
his energy and concentration are legendary. Campaigning recently in Mississippi,
he shook the hand of a department-store mannequin. He recovered gracefully by
quipping to an aide: "Better give her a brochure too."
Carter's single-mindedness and occasional self-righteousness raise questions
about what he might be like as President. If he failed to get his own way, how
would he react? Could he handle the give-and-take of diplomatic negotiations?
Would he be able to compromise with Congress? Would he rather, in his own words,
"go down in flames" than modify his own convictions? If he were as unbending as
he professes to be, his disillusionment and frustration in the White House could
be acute. Woodrow Wilson defied the Senate in his zealous crusade for the League
of Nations; ultimately, he was destroyed by the relentless pursuit of his
dream.
Reports TIME Correspondent Stanley Cloud, who has covered the Carter campaign
since before the New Hampshire primary:
"As President, Carter would probably be far more liberal than many people now
suspect. His appointments would often be surprising. He might retain, at least
for a transitional period, a few key people in the current Administration. For
example, he has a high regard for fellow Southerner David Mathews, the Secretary
of Health, Education and Welfare. But two present Cabinet members would be
certain to go: Agriculture's Earl Butz and State's Henry Kissinger. He would
disappoint many fervent backers who expect some patronage for their troubles.
(Almost always as Governor, he reached outside the circle of his close
supporters to fill important state posts.)
Though he is wary of the press, he would probably have more press conferences
than any recent President. His dealings with Congress almost certainly would be
stormy. For one thing, his plan to streamline the Federal Government, much as he
reorganized Georgia's state government, could involve him in a bloody battle
with Congress and the bureaucrats. But to persuade the Senators and
Representatives to end their opposition to reorganization and his other pet
projects, he would put pressure on them by making frequent -- and perhaps very
effective -- appeals to the voters."
On defense and foreign policy, he has promised to reduce- -on a phased basis
--
much of the American military presence overseas. He would pull American troops
out of Korea in five to seven years. He would begin to reduce, though not
eliminate, the U.S. military commitment in Europe. He would seek closer
relations with Third World countries in Asia, Africa and Latin America, as well
as with traditional allies in Europe and Japan. Detente with the Soviets
probably would continue, but with demands for them to make more concessions to
the U.S. He thinks the U.S. defense budget could be cut by about $7 billion a
year, chiefly through eliminating bureaucratic waste and some expensive weapons
systems, such as the B-1 bomber. But, because he believes that the U.S. fleet is
becoming inferior to Russia's, he would accelerate naval shipbuilding, including
the nuclear, missile- firing Trident submarine.
On the U.S. economy, Carter would give highest priority to reducing
unemployment, primarily by stressing job creation in private business rather
than huge public employment programs. But, if all else failed, Government would
be the employer of last resort (he stresses the last). His goals are a 4% rate
for both unemployment and inflation and a balanced budget by 1979. To expand the
economy, he advocates more stimulative fiscal policies and speedier growth in
the money supply. At the same time, he would ask for stand-by authority to
impose wage and price controls on key industries if inflation threatened to get
out of hand. To provide more effective planning of the national economy, Carter
wants budgeting handled on a three-year basis. As he did in Georgia, he would
put almost every Government program on a temporary basis, and every year or two
require bureaucrats to justify the need for them.
Carter has promised an overhaul of U.S. income taxes, but has not disclosed
details. It probably would involve eliminating most deductions and tax shelters
and lowering the tax rates. This would tend to increase taxes for people with
many deductions or sheltered income but lower them for everyone else. He
proposes a nationwide health plan that would place federal controls over
doctors' fees and hospital charges and provide mandatory health insurance for
every American, financed from general tax revenues and a payroll tax shared by
workers and employers. He would have the Federal Government pay more of the
costs of welfare but not take it over entirely. He supports registering all
handguns, reducing penalties for the use of marijuana and passage of the Equal
Rights Amendment.
It is a long, long time from May to November, and Carter could be tripped up
by
any one of many imponderables -- a slip of the tongue, an unpopular stand on an
issue or, of course, the voters' rejection of him. But these are the hazards of
the trade that he long ago took up.
In 1962, when he was thinking of running for the Georgia senate, he consulted
with a Baptist minister who was visiting Carter's mother. As Carter recalls the
incident: "The pastor strongly advised me not to go into such a discredited
profession. We had a rather heated argument, and he finally asked, `If you want
to be of service to other people, why don't you go into the ministry or into
some honorable special service work?'" Replied Carter: "How would you like to be
the pastor in a church with 80,000 members?" These days, Jimmy Carter is
thinking in terms of heading a congregation with 215 million members.
TIME POLL
Startling Surge for Carter
If the presidential election were held now, Jimmy Carter would defeat Gerald
Ford by 48% to 38% of the vote. Just seven weeks ago, after the Florida primary,
Ford would have beaten Carter, 46% to 38%. This extraordinary shift in voter
sentiment was a stunning measure of how far the Georgian had come by last week,
just after his Pennsylvania victory.
By 50% to 27%, moreover, U.S. voters want to see a Demcorat elected as the
next
President, provided both candidates are of equal stature and competence. Voters
-- Republicans, Democrats and Independents -- consider Carter the strongest
possible Democratic candidate: 48% see Carter that way, v. 34% for Humphrey and
3% for Jackson. At the same time, Americans split evenly, 41% to 41%, with 19%
uncertain, on whether the Democrat or the Republican will win in November.
These are the principal findings of a poll conducted for TIME last week by
Yankelovich, Skelly and White, Inc., the opinion-research firm. The results were
gathered in telephone interviews with a representative, national sample of 1,011
registered voters in the two days immediately following the Pennsylvania
primary. Most of the interviews were taken before Humphrey announced he would
not actively campaign and all of them before Jackson dropped out, so that, if
anything, the poll may underestimate Carter's strengths.
The poll also indicated that there is still some vulnerability in Carter's
position. Even with Pennsylvania behind him, Carter was the choice of a minority
of his own party (39%, v. 59% for some other candidate). If they were voting on
the basis of economic, defense and foreign policy issues alone, more Democrats
would prefer Humphrey over Carter.
Still, the pace of Carter's ascendancy has been breathtaking. Before the New
Hampshire primary, he was unknown to 55% of the electorate; now he is known to
82% and viewed as acceptable by 59%. Based on answers from the people who were
polled, the Carter phenomenon seems the result of two factors: 1) the hunger for
a Democratic candidate who can win in November and 2) the search for an
indefinable quality of moral leadership at a time when 61% of the respondents
feel something is morally wrong in the nation. That search for moral leadership
promises to be Carter's strongest asset agaisnt Ford. Of those voters who feel
something is morally wrong in the nation, 54% said they would vote for Carter in
November, while 31% would support Ford. Another factor in Carter's favor is the
extraordinary attention voters are paying this year to "the man" rather than the
issues.
Two potential stumbling blocks for Carter -- issues that seemed likely to
make
voters uneasy -- have not materialized. Despite the brief uproar over his
"ethnic purity" remarks, a strong 62% of the voters regard him as a fair person
on racial issues. And 50% of the voters do not consider Carter's intense
religious convictions a factor in the election; 32% believe such views are an
asset; only 8% are worried by them.
On the Republican side, Gerald Ford has steadily improved his position
against
Ronald Reagan. Among Republicans and Independents, Ford is now the choice of
62%, v. 25% for Reagan. Seven weeks ago, it was Ford 56%, Reagan 28%. Among all
voters, confidence in Ford's handling of two basic policy issues is reasonably
strong. Almost three out of four voice some or a lot of confidence in his
management of the economy and inflation. Two out of three express some or a lot
of confidence in his conduct of foreign affairs. At the same time, the Reagan
campaign has been hurting Ford by generating concern about U.S. military power
compared with Russia's. One out of two voters are worried about the state of
U.S. military power and consider it a major issue.
With Carter running strong on "moral leadership" and Reagan chipping away at
Ford on the defense issue, the President becomes increasingly dependent on an
improved economy as his greatest strength. But while the economy is gaining,
voters perceive the rate of progress as slowing. The share of people who say
they feel economic stress -- worry about paying off bills or losing jobs --
dropped from a high of 36% last June to 30% in October; since then, the index
has shown no real improvement. Last week it stood at 29%.
On the brighter side, last October little more than one- third of the voters
said that things were going well in the country. Now, for the first time since
the TIME-Yankelovich polls started two years ago, more than half the people
(53%) share that belief. That may work in Ford's favor. Among those who share
this optimism, 49% would vote for him and only 39% for Carter.
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