National Affairs: Plenty of Jack

As most voters know, the Kennedys of Massachusetts think highly of Jack. Last week in Wisconsin, Democratic Presidential Hopeful Hubert Humphrey of Minnesota whisked about the countryside to make sure that not a voter forgot it—especially on primary day, April 5. “I cannot win by competing in glamour or in public relations,” cried Humphrey, who knew very well that the polls put him behind Senator Jack Kennedy. “The Kennedy forces are waging a psychological blitz that I cannot match. I’m not the candidate of the fat cats . . .” Humphrey followers bitterly accused Millionaire Kennedy of trying to buy the Wisconsin primary.

In Wisconsin, the game grew rougher than ever. Humphrey sarcastically charged his “illustrious opponent” with the gravest Democratic sins—being “soft on Nixon” and hard for the policies of Agriculture Secretary Ezra Benson. The Wisconsin farmers in the audience cheered. In the closely contested Third District, where Humphrey was stumping, screwball anti-Catholic pamphlets showed up in the mails, ominously postmarked Hutchinson, Minn. (Humphrey’s home state). Humphrey charged that it was a reverse plot to swing votes away from him by suggesting that his backers were bigoted.

As for Candidate Kennedy, he also had his uneasy moments. Invading the Minnesota-bordering, Humphrey-leaning, predominantly Protestant Tenth District, Kennedy glad-handed through towns that were called Mellen and Glidden, Park Falls and Montreal. Barreling along at 90 m.p.h. on the outskirts of Ladysmith, the Kennedy motorcade slowed down as it got near a group of cheering nuns and postulants, chilled from waiting at the roadside. Kennedy ordered a halt, hopped out of his car. One postulant wished him a happy St. Patrick’s Day, pinned a green ribbon on his lapel. But Kennedy looked uncomfortable when photographers’ bulbs popped. Later, when visiting the nearby convent, Kennedy barred photos. “I think not,” he said, raising his hand. Back in the car, Kennedy explained that pictures are not allowed in some convents, tore off all but the slightest fragment of the green ribbon. “After all,” he explained, “we’re not in Boston now.”