Politics: Having a Wonderful Time

The Governors of 15 Southern and border states last week gathered at White Sulphur Springs, W. Va., in annual conference. Their agenda was laden with such subjects as highway safety and budget administration. But where the Governors really got their kicks was in talking about, and maneuvering toward, 1964’s presidential election.

“A Good Horse Race.” A favorite pastime was matching John Kennedy against Barry Goldwater, who would certainly be the South’s choice for the Republican nomination. Governor Orval Faubus, whose state has not been carried by a G.O.P. presidential candidate since 1872, said that his private polls show Goldwater ahead by 10% to 15%. Georgia’s Governor Carl Sanders, whose state has never gone Republican in a presidential election, said that a Kennedy-Goldwater contest would be “a good horse race.”

Oklahoma’s Henry Bellmon, the lone Republican Governor at the conference, judged that Goldwater would win his state handily in an election held now. Even North Carolina’s Terry Sanford, a strong Kennedy supporter, sadly admitted that “certainly President Kennedy isn’t as popular in North Carolina as he was six months ago.” Sanford figured he knew the reason for the President’s slip in the South—Attorney General Robert Kennedy. Said Sanford: “We had it knocked before this civil rights business. If he would fire Bobby tomorrow, we’d have it licked again.”

Alabama’s Governor George Wallace was playing his own particular game. Wallace arrived at the conference snorting that “I just want to raise a little hell.” He forthwith introduced a batch of resolutions designed to embarrass the Kennedy Administration—one, for example, would have condemned the Administration’s civil rights package as “the most irresponsible piece of legislation ever sponsored by a national administration.” But the other Governors refused to go along, and Wallace never brought his resolutions to a floor vote.

Too Tired. In the grand old game at White Sulphur Springs, there were even some international cards for a hand or two. Some Kennedy critics had been watching with great interest Dr. Edward Teller’s outspoken Washington testimony against the Administration-backed atomic test ban treaty. It would, they decided, be a fine idea to invite Teller to explain his treaty objections to the conference. Teller accepted, promised to catch an overnight train to White Sulphur Springs.

But the invitation to Teller raised angry protests that it was merely another device to embarrass the President. Conference Chairman Faubus, who had gone along with the invitation to begin with, changed his mind, rescinded the invitation. But Teller was already on the way. Messengers raced to intercept him at rail stations along the way. They missed him. But somehow, it seemed, Teller got the word. He never appeared in White Sulphur Springs and next morning was back in Washington. Teller explained vaguely that he had just gotten tired, decided to turn back, and left the train—just where, he could not remember, because “it was dark.” At week’s end the Governors went home. They may not have solved too many state problems. But so far as national politicking was concerned, they had had a wonderful time.