How Adlai Won

Scurrying from caucus room to caucus room in search of his mislaid presidential nomination, Candidate Adlai Stevenson allowed himself to be poked, prodded, pushed and paraded until he felt, as he put it, like a prize Angus on display. Occasionally he asked one of his aides: "How am I doing?" The reply was invariably: "Fine, Governor." That was all Stevenson knew or needed to know while managers worked desperately behind the scenes last week to put out the flames that Harry Truman had torched by spurning Stevenson and declaring for Averell Harriman (TIME, Aug. 20).

The big question as Chicago's big week began: Could Adlai ride out the Truman crisis and protect the huge lead he had collected? The answers lay in the abacus mind and the horny fists of his campaign manager, Pennsylvania's Jim Finnegan.

Come for the Ride. Finnegan's own Pennsylvania was the first hot spot. The day after Truman's flare-up, President David McDonald of the United Steelworkers went on network television and loudly announced that he too was for Harriman. McDonald's steelworkers are mighty in Pennsylvania, and some Philadelphia delegates were raring to go with him. The Pennsylvania delegation caucused, and Dave McDonald made a fiery pitch for Harriman support. But Finnegan's protege, Governor George Leader, laid out the political facts of life. Snapped he: if any delegate hoped to do any future business with Harrisburg, he had blamed well better stick with Stevenson. Result: a flame out for Harriman's chances in Pennsylvania.

Stevenson "fire spotters" (including Adlai Stevenson III) fanned out among the other combustible delegations. Arizona started to burn; it was cooled after a perilously close call. Kansas seemed ready to go; the fire fighters won again. Even at midweek the faction-torn Maryland delegation began thinking about switching to Missouri's Senator Stuart Symington. Jim Finnegan got the word, made an emergency call. "Boys," said Finnegan, by that time on his third pack of Old Golds, "that's all right if it's the best you can do. You can come along later -just for the ride. But just think how good you'll look back home if you can help swing this thing by leading the way, not following." The Maryland boys caught on fast.

A Hand from Eleanor. Adlai Stevenson meanwhile played the part of the candidate well. As he went from meeting to meeting, his pitch was low-keyed, without personal resentment against Harry Truman. "My fight," he said, "is against the Republicans, not against any Democrat." Old friends rallied around him. Plowing through the crushing crowds with Stevenson was an especially devoted and notedly effective helper: Eleanor Roosevelt, 71, wearing an absurd little hat and carrying herself with gentle dignity. She spoke repeatedly of her concern for a better world, a better America, and a Democratic Party in which the old, e.g., herself and Harry Truman, must make way for the young, i.e., Adlai Stevenson. "My husband," said she meaningfully, "was a man of moderation."*

Gradually Finnegan & Co. discovered that there was very little left of the Truman-Harriman campaign but glowing embers. Clearly it was high time to light a few bright Stevenson torches to get the parade going again. The first bright glare came from Michigan.

Early in the week the United Auto Workers' President Walter Reuther had seen that the Truman-Harriman bid threatened a deadlock from which Texas' Lyndon Johnson might emerge as the conservative Democratic kingmaker, with enormous bargaining power on civil rights. Now Liberal Reuther determined to take the play away from Lyndon. He announced his own strong support for Stevenson, then persuaded Michigan's governor and favorite son, G. Mennen ("Soapy") Williams, to go to work. Striding from hotel room to hotel room, his lanky form trademarked by his green polka-dot bow tie, Williams checked with leaders from Ohio, Minnesota, Kansas and New Jersey. "I checked the figures myself," said Soapy. "I couldn't see how Harriman could win." Late Tuesday night, Williams called his 44-vote delegation into a chokingly smoke-filled caucus room. The delegation's sentiment was plain. The decision: Michigan voted to cast a big majority for Stevenson.

Absolute Cruncher. Even while Soapy was moving toward Adlai, tense, closely guarded negotiations were going on inside the 36-vote New Jersey delegation, which nominally favored Governor Robert Meyner but was actually split 26 for Stevenson to 10 (all from Jersey City) for Harriman. At a meeting on Tuesday of six New Jersey leaders, Bob Meyner flatly refused to stand as a favorite son, convinced Jersey City Leader John Kenny that Harriman was a sure loser. The six voted unanimously to back Stevenson. Kenny reported to New York's Tammany Hall Boss Carmine De Sapio, who passed on the bad news to Harry Truman. The old man refused to give up. He summoned Bob Meyner to his suite and went stronger than ever for Harriman -pleading, cajoling, crackling with emotion. But Meyner stood firm.

The announcement of New Jersey's 36-vote break to Stevenson actually came eight hours after the Michigan switch -but New Jersey was the absolute cruncher. When it happened, a top Harriman aide silently drew his finger across his throat.

Too Late with Too Little. By the time the delegates jammed into the convention hall Thursday afternoon to nominate a President, Stevenson was so far ahead that nothing could beat him. Thirteen delegations had intoned their votes before Harriman passed the 10 mark. Harriman's campaign adviser, Tammany Boss Carmine De Sapio, had known for a long while what was coming; he sat calm and cool among his red-faced, sweating New York delegation. After it was all over, he murmured wistfully: "If we had only had more time." On his way out he stepped over to Harry Truman's box. "Hi, boss," said Carmine De Sapio. "I'll see you tomorrow."

High in an amphitheater office, Averell Harriman watched the roll call on television, saw his hopes fall into ashes, took defeat gracefully and with promises to support the Democratic nominee this fall. Perhaps the happiest man in the amphitheater was Governor Leader, whose face lit up with a small boy's Christmas morning ecstasy when he saw that Pennsylvania's vote would sew up the Stevenson victory. "Pennsylvania," cried Leader, "casts seven votes for Harriman!" He paused to savor the drama, then continued: "And for Stevenson, enough to put him over the to -67!"

The Painless Sock. Late Thursday night, after Stevenson's announcement that it was up to the convention to pick the vice-presidential candidate, victory was celebrated with Scotch, ham and cold chicken in Adlai's Sheraton-Blackstone Hotel suite. Vice-presidential candidates

-Estes Kefauver, Hubert Humphrey, Jack Kennedy -descended on Stevenson with the single-minded purpose of tsetse flies. Sam Rayburn and Lyndon Johnson called to pay their respects -so did Pittsburgh's Mayor Dave Lawrence and Connecticut's Democratic Chairman John Bailey.

Adlai Stevenson sat in a corner, enjoyed the goings on, contemplated his immediate past and his foreseeable future. Actually, he had a certain cause for gratitude toward Harry Truman: the old fighter had raised a ruckus and Stevenson had come out of it a stronger candidate. One of his advisers summed up the story of how Adlai Stevenson won the nomination: "We went into the convention with preponderant strength and worked like hell to add to it. And finally, we took a sock in the nose from Harry Truman and found out it didn't hurt at all."

* When Eleanor went home, Adlai escorted her to the plane. Asked by photographers to kiss her cheek, he replied angrily, "Nonsense."

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