Nation: Track Sore

In 21 years on Capitol Hill—the past twelve as junior U.S. Senator from Kentucky—Thruston Morton rose to the rim of the Republican inner sanctum, chairing the National Committee and the 1964 convention, picking his own committee slots and forcing even Minority Leader Everett Dirksen occasionally to mend his ways. There was once a time when Morton was mentioned for the presidency, but his obvious ability never seemed to be matched by equal deeds.

Responsible and brainy, Morton has lately harbored an anguished heart. He painfully broke with Lyndon Johnson on the Viet Nam war, looked with dismay at Dirksen’s troglodyte image, and saw his party heading for a replay of the 1964 Goldwater debacle. George Romney bored him, Charles Percy faded, and Morton talked up Nelson Rockefeller to his friends. Lately he had become resigned to having a Richard Nixon ticket. Optimistic friends hoped that with an influx of G.O.P. moderates next year, Morton might even oust Dirksen from the Senate leadership. An innately shy man, Morton saw little hope. His despair was heightened by the illness of his wife and a growing dread that the G.O.P. would again be tagged with racism, irresponsibility and defeat.

Less than a month ago, he was planning his third senatorial campaign. But Morton’s depression, for himself, his party and nation, was too much. Last week he announced his retirement. Creating a vacuum that could splinter Republican power in Kentucky, the 60-year-old Morton told the press: “To use an old Kentucky expression, I suppose I am just plain ‘track sore.’ “