The Congress: Long of Louisiana

When he arrived in the Senate in 1949, Russell Billiu Long was the Teddy Kennedy of his day. A 30-year-old lawyer, he had held no posts weightier than president of the L.S.U. student government, and executive counsel to Louisiana’s Governor—who happened to be his Uncle Earl. Russell’s biggest political asset was a remarkable physical resemblance to his father, Huey. the Kingfish himself. He was dubbed the Princefish. That was all right with Russell; at 13, he had said of his father: “When I grow up. I want to be exactly like him.” But somewhere along the way. Russell Long changed his mind.

Although his first speech in the Senate was a one-hour donation to a Southern filibuster—stirring memories of 1935 and Huey’s 15½-hour symphony of constitutional law, back-home stories and recipes for fried oysters—Russell was soon engaged in what seemed to be a campaign to prove that a Long could be responsible and respectable. Now, at 44. Russell finds himself with 14 years of seniority, a hard-won reputation for effectiveness, and the prospect of being one of the Senate’s most powerful members. He has kept his coat on and his English pure, but in at least one respect he remains the Kingfish’s son. “He is the most unpredictable man I ever saw.” says one Senate colleague. ”Nobody who knows anything about this place can ever think he knows what Russell is going to do.”

Strange Gods. With the death of Oklahoma’s Bob Kerr, Long ranks next to ailing Harry Byrd among Democrats on the Senate Finance Committee, and is the logical shepherd for Administration fiscal programs opposed by Conservative Byrd. But Long, like Kerr, often conditions his support on what his own state gets in return, and his stands are even harder to categorize than Kerr’s. On many issues —such as antitrust legislation—Russell seems proper heir to his father’s red-clay radicalism. But. like Kerr, Long bitterly fights any attempt to alter the oil-depletion tax allowance, is opposed to tax crackdowns on business expense accounts.

Long is no Dixiecrat demagogue, even though he once introduced a bill to provide federal funds for “a one-way ticket to Africa for anyone who feels he would prefer any of the African nations to the U.S.” Last session he filibustered with Northern liberals against developing communications satellites through private enterprise—as well as with Southern Democrats against the literacy test bill. More than most members of the U.S. Senate, Long frequently seems to concentrate on peripheral issues, such as World War II G.I. insurance or the protection of Government-developed patents.

But even Senators who murmur that Long “follows strange gods” do not question his ability. Admits one Republican Senator: “When he gets hold of something, he’s a tiger with it.” Long has a penetrating mind and. says one Senate staffer, is “one of the very few members left who can make a speech that will change some minds right on the floor.”

Leading Deadhead. In the earthy forum of Louisiana politics. Russell has always held his own. Just three years after he went to the Senate, he opposed Uncle Earl by supporting Representative Hale Boggs for the governorship (both Boggs and Earl’s candidate lost). Earl, who had previously called Russell “an improvement on his uncle and also on his father,” decided he was. instead. “Louisiana’s leading deadhead.” Russell is not without the Long gift for homey summary himself, once demolished the present Governor, Jimmie Davis, in one simple statement: “He’s only got his own personality to work with, and I’d say the poor fellow’s doing the best he can.”

Russell’s own boyhood ambition to be Governor of Louisiana, in the fashion of his family, has gradually been buried in Senate seniority, which is now too valuable to surrender. Russell seems less regretful every year. “I have a fond and warm recollection of my father,” he says. “but I have my job to do, and for a long time now I have been working for Russell Long, not Huey Long.”