THE ADMINISTRATION: Return of a Texas Twister

THE ADMINISTRATION Return of a Texas Twister

In Richard Nixon’s Washington, John Connally is a throwback to the Lyndonesque. He chews the last bit of meat off his pork chops with both elbows on the table and sometimes speaks in the earthy parables of L.B.J.’s Pedernales folklore. Observing the shrewd, assertive style that Connally brought to Washington as Secretary of the Treasury, Alabama’s Congressman George Andrews breathed a sigh of déjà vu: “You look very much like an arm twister. In fact, somebody said you look almost like his twin brother.” Says Connally with an innocent smile: “I’m just an old country boy. I learned a long time ago, I’m not smart enough to be devious.”

Being the house Democrat, albeit a conservative one, in Nixon’s Cabinet has left Connally in a position of Byzantine ambiguity that even L.B.J.’s political godson may find complex. Undoubtedly ambitious for higher office, even the presidency, Connally continues to pay his dues as a Democrat and lunch with his party friends; recently he sent $500 to a Democratic fund raising dinner. He has also blandly predicted that Nixon will be re-elected in 1972 and increasingly asserted himself as an aggressive defender of the G.O.P. Administration’s economics, the issue that could determine the outcome of the 1972 presidential election.

Self-Portrait. In a speech before the U.S. Chamber of Commerce last week, Connally, without mentioning names, attacked such possible Democratic candidates as Edmund Muskie, Birch Bayh and George McGovern for their criticism of the President’s planned tax cuts for business. There was some inadvertent humor in Connally’s sneer at Democratic “aspirants for high office or politically oriented economists who were once close to power and long to return.” Connally, as a protege of L.B.J., Secretary of the Navy under John Kennedy and now one of the most forceful members of Nixon’s Cabinet, might have been doodling a self-portrait.

As soon as the President announced Connally’s appointment, politicians and columnists theorized that Nixon might dump Spiro Agnew from the 1972 G.O.P. ticket and name Connally in his place. A relatively conservative Texan, presumably Connally would not offend Agnew’s followers. If the Republicans won, then Connally conceivably might find himself in 1976, at a presidentially mature 59, heading the G.O.P. national ticket. The idea is farfetched, although Connally may have indulged it in the privacy behind his hard, savvy eye.

Texas Judo. Nixon, of course, has many more immediate uses for Connally’s talents. Although he has proved a quick study at his new job, Connally believes he can hire all the expertise he needs to help him run the Treasury. His larger assignment is to apply his particular form of Texas judo on direct orders from the President, with whom he consults at least once a week. Says one White House aide: “He’s going to be the best public relations man this Administration ever had.”

Connally is actually a smoother, boardroom version of Lyndon Johnson, more deliberative in style and, of course, lacking the patronage and power that L.B.J. commanded as President. His first mission for Nixon was to try to repair the damage done to Lockheed Aircraft’s Tri-Star project when Rolls-Royce, the contractor for the plane’s jet engine, announced bankruptcy. Connally discreetly bullied the British into propping up Rolls with funds, then turned to Lockheed. On Connally’s advice, Lockheed’s chairman of the board, Dan Haughton, traveled the nation organizing financial support from banks and further orders from customers. “Tree all your possums at once, Dan,” Connally counseled.

Needle’s Eye. For all of Connally’s efforts, however, the project cannot continue unless Congress agrees to underwrite $250 million in financing for Lockheed. That lobbying job may tax the Secretary’s persuasive powers—as he knows, having argued unsuccessfully for the SST. This week Connally is expected to recommend to the Government a guaranteed loan to Lockheed.

It is as broker in the Democratic Congress that Nixon counts on Connally. When it gets down to the bargaining stages, Connally will be trying to coax the President’s revenue-sharing program past the opposition of Wilbur Mills, chairman of the House Ways and Means Committee, a task that may prove to be the equivalent of ramming a copy of the federal budget through the eye of a needle. Connally has also taken over as a chief salesman of Nixon’s Government-reorganization program.

Connally’s entrance into Nixonian Washington three months ago left both Republicans and Democrats startled and bemused by hisaggressive talents. Said an old Texas friend: “He’s not going to runthe Treasury, he’s going to run the Government.” Since then, he has learned that the waters do not always part at his bidding. For example, Connally has been forced into a two month war of attrition with the White House staff to find an acceptable new Internal Revenue Service chief.

But even such intramural controversies leave Connally, a tough and single-minded man, with blood in his eye and, as far as anyone knows, an undiminished if unspoken ambition. After a Democratic Party dinner for Connally last March, a former Cabinet member whispered to an old colleague from the L.B.J. White House: “Can this country stand another Lyndon Johnson?”