Pilot Plant

In the glare of the public spotlight, the Republicans of the 80th Congress had moved into Washington like a lusty construction gang bent on rebuilding the town. But as yet they had neither torn down nor raised one house. Last week, above the clashing and grinding of the legislative machinery in Washington, a sharp-eared listener could hear a steady hum. It came from Albany. Governor Thomas E. Dewey was purring along like a pilot plant.

In a short eleven weeks, Tom Dewey's slick team had firmly guided every one of the Governor's major proposals through the Republican-dominated legislature. It was a program that contrasted with the record of Congress GOPsters thus far.

While Republicans in Washington quarreled over "blind" budget cuts, Tom Dewey won approval for a record $671,900,000 in expenditures, highest in the state's history. Recognizing the need for higher salaries for teachers, he adopted a new scale which was the highest in the nation (but still somewhat less than the teachers had asked). He approved a referendum on a veterans' bonus which would cost the state $400 million, plus interest.

No Magic. But Tom Dewey, who had no patience with reckless promises of 20% tax cuts, knew that these things would have to be paid for. Said he: "There is no magic to the production of government revenues. They arise only by being extracted from the pockets of the taxpayer." Nor was he beguiled by arguments for concealed, less painful taxes. "There is easy demagogy in the indirect tax."

His proposal: raise an additional $111 million in revenue (to cover the teachers' increase and other rising educational costs) by granting local communities added taxing powers--on sales, vehicles, liquor licenses, admissions, meals and vending machines.

For payment of the bonus, Dewey had an equally Spartan prescription. He wanted it paid off in ten years by means of an additional 1-c- tax on cigarets, a 20% increase in present income taxes. Democrats, who wanted business to pay the tab, wailed that veterans would be paying for their own bonus. Tom Dewey didn't say they wouldn't. But if the people wanted to vote a bonus, Dewey meant to see that they knew what it would cost.

The Stakes. Most controversial measure in the Dewey program was a bill designed to outlaw strikes by public employees. Under the bill, which at week's end was awaiting the Governor's signature, any public employee who stayed out on strike would be summarily dismissed; if rehired--on his claim, for instance, that pickets had kept him away from work--he could get no pay increase for three years.

Every labor organization in the state let out a howl, charging that the bill's provisions made employees guilty until they were proved innocent. But Tom Dewey let it be known that he was willing to stake his political future on the bill.

Votes & Delegates. To cap his performance, Tom Dewey then turned a neat political handspring. New York's Democrats had belabored him for his refusal to give New York City additional aid out of state funds, and for his unwillingness to allot more money for public housing. Last week the Governor made a deal with New York's Mayor William O'Dwyer. In exchange for O'Dwyer's promise to get along without extra money from the state, Dewey agreed to recommend a $135 million bond issue for low-cost housing. Of this, $1 20 million would be earmarked for New York City.

Thus in a busy fortnight and with an apparently reckless disregard for votes, Tom Dewey had roughed up organized labor, the American Legion, cigaret smokers, motorists, public employees, taxpayers, and even local G.O.P. politicians who did not relish having to impose the new local taxes. Cynical observers had an explanation: "He's not looking for votes this year--he's looking for delegates."

Whether delegates were impressed or not, it was a record that would look good to many a responsible voter. Just how good, 1948 would tell.

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