Act III

It was not the most felicitous of announcements. The rhetoric rambled, the explanations were grandly nonexplicative, the answers to newsmen's questions sounded almost surrealistic in their unresponsiveness. But, as a Hamlet without a Shakespeare, Nelson Aldrich Rockefeller did manage to make clear in Act III of his off-again, on-again presidential campaign that he had finally reached a decision. Then, on the very day that he proclaimed his "active candidacy," New York's Governor captured Massachusetts' Republican primary without even trying, followed up with a socko first day of stumping in Iowa. While he is far behind Richard Nixon, Rockefeller demonstrated that there is once again a lively contest for the G.O.P. nomination.

"An absolute surprise," said Rockefeller about the Massachusetts victory. "The first break. A big help." It was nearly all of that. The only name on the Bay State Republican ballot was Governor John Volpe, running as a favorite son. Neither Rockefeller nor Nixon had organized a write-in campaign. A minuscule, orphaned draft-Rockefeller group had remained barely alive, able to spend a grand total of $1,500 during the six weeks before primary day.

Beholder & Beneficiary. The contest was close: Rockefeller, 31.1%; Volpe, 30%; Nixon, 26.2%, with the balance scattered. Under a new state law, Rockefeller gets all 34 convention votes on the first ballot--after that delegates are free to switch. While a minor victory in terms of delegate strength, it had a psychological impact. One of the strongest anti-Nixon arguments within the party is that Rockefeller, while not an orthodox Republican, is a vote-getting Republican, and the Bay State vote gave that thesis a little lift.

It also helped to prettify Rockefeller's ungainly re-entry into the race. On March 21 he had startled the nation by declaring himself out of the active competition on the grounds that most Republican leaders favored Nixon. At a time of national "crisis and confusion," he said then, it would be a disservice "to create more partisan divisions." Last week, proclaiming himself back in, he cited the "gravity of the crisis that we face as a people," adding: "The draft is really, I would say, the result of events."

In fact, the "draft" was visible principally to the weather eye of its chief beholder and beneficiary. Though Rocky tried gamely to defend his withdrawal in March as correct at the time, there seemed little doubt that it had been a blunder compounded by the subsequent developments he mentioned, most notably Lyndon Johnson's abdication and Nixon's continued strength in the polls (the latest Gallup showed him beating all three Democrats). If Rockefeller continued his coyness, his political scouts reported, Nixon probably would be unbeatable.

The day after his announcement, Rockefeller went to Philadelphia to de liver the second of his major position speeches. The first, two weeks earlier, had been on the urban crisis and caused few ripples. Now he spoke about Viet Nam, a subject on which he had been silent for two years. He proposed no radical departures, attempted instead to camp on unexceptionable middle ground. The U.S., he maintained, must seek a settlement "whose aims and guarantees safeguard the freedom and security of all Southeast Asia." The "Americanization of the effort, military and civilian, should be reversed." At the same time, he argued, Washington must somehow establish a more representative government in Saigon; military strategy must stress security for the population rather than control of territory.

Nixon's Net. Thus there was more charisma in his domestic politics than realism in his Realpolltik. Rockefeller was attempting to establish himself as the thoughtful surveyor of the big picture, eager for peace but opposing appeasement, less militant than Nixon, more mature than Robert Kennedy, more flexible and far-sighted than the Johnson Administration.

For the moment, the prospects for Rockefeller's success hinge on state leaders rather than on statesmanship. Several nominally uncommitted G.O.P. Governors, such as Ohio's James Rhodes and Pennsylvania's Raymond Shafer, privately favor Rockefeller. He must prove to these and other favorite sons that he can keep enough delegates out of Nixon's net between now and August to merit their support. Rockefeller must also rekindle the ardor of other Governors who have been chilled by his recent to-ing and froing.

The most powerful favorite son of all is California's Ronald Reagan, whose 86 convention votes just might wind up in Rockefeller's column if Reagan's own dark-horse position blacks out completely and if a Rockefeller-Reagan ticket can then be constructed. A deal with Reagan would almost certainly devalue Rockefeller's ultimate trump card--his appeal to Democrats and independents in the general election--but in presidential politics the nomination comes first.

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