Happy Birthday?

The position of Vice President Richard Nixon is one of the most interesting--and difficult--in U.S. politics. Long before the President's heart attack, Nixon was a favorite target of Democrats who felt it unprofitable to criticize Dwight Eisenhower. With the post-coronary realization that Nixon may very well be the man they have to beat this November, the Democratic concentration against him has become even more intense. By itself, the let's-get-Nixon drive would be as much a compliment as a disadvantage to him if it were not for a peculiarity of the vice-presidency considered as a political stance. At best, it is a poor political pulpit. With a President whose health is a matter of public speculation, a Vice President who attempts to defend himself seems to be trying to supplant the President. Nixon, therefore, has had little choice but to stay quiet and take it on the chin. By now the chin is so thoroughly bruised by glancing blows that some Republican leaders are saying he would be a poor candidate because the opposition to him is so strong.

There are, however, many high-placed Republicans who have great sympathy for Nixon's dilemma, and last week they tried to express their feelings. On the occasion of Nixon's 43rd birthday, a party in the auditorium of the National Press Club was given by the Chowder and Marching Society, an organization of G.O.P. Congressmen who came to the House at the same time as Nixon. It was a cold and icy night, but this was no ordinary turnout. On hand were nearly all members of the Eisenhower Cabinet, the White House staff, most G.O.P. Congressional leaders. From President Eisenhower came two congratulatory messages --one to Nixon personally, the other to be read at the birthday party.

But when Nixon (who, like the other members of the Chowder and Marching Society, had been looking a little uneasy in a chef's cap and apron) arose to speak, he found himself full-face against his problem: political motives would be read into anything of substance that he might say. He had, therefore, to content himself with the unimportant.

After the gracious observation that "politics has given me the best ten years of my life," Nixon might have been wise to sit down. But, feeling the tension of his position and not wishing to seem unappreciative of the gesture that the gathering represented, he kept on talking, finally trailing off in a series of isn't-it-wonderful platitudes that left his audience both embarrassed and bored. The fact was that, however good the intentions of the guests may have been, it was almost impossible to make it a happy birthday for Dick Nixon.

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