The Votes That Really Count

During the end game of a close election, the millions of votes and millions of dollars boil down to a dinky little figure: 270, the electoral college majority that takes its owner to the White House. The battle for that number is an uneven one. For a generation, Republicans have held a significant edge in electoral math. Even when Michael Dukakis was clearly ahead in the opinion polls two months ago, his base of probable electoral votes was no better than even with George Bush’s. Today the Bush bulge, though marginal nationwide, translates into an intimidating electoral count approaching 270. This allows Bush greater flexibility in pursuing important states in no-man’s-land and in attacking Dukakis territory. Dukakis, like a combat surgeon, must practice triage as he allocates precious assets to regions where his prospects can survive. His brave talk about waging a 50-state campaign rings hollow as his managers throttle back in about 15 states, most of them in the West and Deep South. Dukakis’ electoral vote gap is becoming so serious that his newly energized campaign tactics may have little effect on the final numbers, barring a major Bush blunder. Now he must win nearly all the territory still up for grabs, plus some in which Bush leads, while protecting his present turf. Bush need add only one large state to the collection in which he is ahead.

New York

is Dukakis’ Eastern anchor, as even Republicans privately concede. But his advantage has shrunk, tempting Bush strategists to plan the kind of mischief they have perpetrated in Massachusetts. “We’re going to put enough into New York to make Dukakis come back to hold us off,” promises deputy campaign manager Rich Bond. Sure enough, Dukakis was scheduled to come to the Empire State on Columbus Day. Dukakis will also have to devote more time to Pennsylvania, which on paper seemed promising for the Democrats this year. Now it has become open country.

Florida

is firmly in Bush’s hands. Dukakis, who had boasted in August that he would win the state, is belatedly retreating. Last week his two chief organizers transferred to the Midwest, and more are to follow. He has also given up much of the Cotton South. From a meeting of some of his Dixie managers, word seeped out that Democratic hopes were reduced to what they grandly called the “Big Five” Southern and border states — Arkansas, Georgia, Kentucky, Tennessee, North Carolina. But they add up to just 51 electoral votes, and Dukakis at the moment can count on none of them.

Texas

could turn out to be for Dukakis what Russia was for Napoleon. He invested his vice-presidential choice there and nine days of his own precious time, but Bush still leads. The only consolation is that the Bentsen gambit has forced Bush to work hard in his home state; like Dukakis, the Vice President was there again last week. The Democrat’s hope is that the oil recession will raise indignation high enough to smother Bush’s appeals to Texans’ macho instincts. Both sides have so much at stake that neither can be seen as backing away.

Illinois

is the premier battleground in the Midwest, the region Dukakis must dominate if he is to offset Bush’s strength in the South and West. Neither candidate has gained traction in Illinois, which is why Dukakis last week made his sixth visit since July. Bush has appeared there four times. Marshaling Chicago’s large black vote has been difficult for Dukakis. In Ohio Bush leads and plans at least one excursion a week to hold that advantage. Democrats outnumber Republicans in Ohio, as in neighboring Michigan. But Democratic union members ) have been slow to mobilize. Owen Beiber, president of the United Auto Workers, chided followers in Detroit by saying, “Maybe we’ve forgotten how to win.”

Colorado’s

oil-based economic woes and coolness toward patricians seemed to offer a good opportunity for Dukakis to break Bush’s Western monopoly. But by last week, as Bush visited Denver, the state was tilting Republican. The main reason: Bush’s success in tarring his rival as a squishy liberal. Elsewhere in the West, Dukakis is still competitive in Washington, Oregon and New Mexico, but is comfortably ahead nowhere except Hawaii, with its four little votes.

California

is the most closely contested large state, and Dukakis cannot win without it. Though the state has gone Republican in eight of the past nine elections, it has an affection for change that the Democrat is fighting to exploit. Neither candidate has a natural claim on Californians’ sentiments. That, and the fact that two of the state’s baseball teams made the play-offs, is slowing voters’ decision making.