Serenity at the Top

Reported TIME White House Correspondent John L. Steele this week:

Aides and close friends have sensed a profound change--or perhaps a crystallization of previous changes--in President Eisenhower since the campaign began. Said one of them last week: "The President seems to have reached a new plane of serenity, almost of self-detachment." Four years in the White House have sharpened his political ear, toughened his belief in himself as a political strategist. But along with this has come a new warmth and understanding. Gone are the occasional flashes of temper that were once the terror of his staff--and of his opponents. They have been replaced by an equanimity and inner ease that is reflected in his desire to campaign chiefly on the record of his administration--and to respond to Democratic attacks only when they impugn or falsify that record.

Evidence of this serenity--and of the way it has affected his thinking about his campaign--was written large over the President's activities last week. His Peoria speech struck hard at Adlai Stevenson for "mockery and deceit" on the farm problem, but what he regarded as most important was his explanation of the Administration's own farm record. Similarly, to the surprise of correspondents and staff alike, he showed no anger at his press conference when asked to comment on Stevenson's attack on his brother Milton Eisen hower. His color rose only once--when he detached himself from implied Republican campaign charges that the Democrats are a "war party." Said he: "They may be thinking of something that I don't know anything about, but I don't believe that when America gets into war we can afford to call it anything but our war."

This serene state of mind has been reflected in another policy decision--the physical schedule of his campaign. He agreed last week to extend his personal barnstorming to Pittsburgh--because pockets of unemployment in Western Pennsylvania represent a danger to Republican candidates, particularly Senator James H. Duff. His newly announced campaign trip to the Midwest and Northwest in mid-October--with speeches planned in Minneapolis, Seattle, Tacoma and Portland--has a similar purpose. In Minnesota the Republican ticket is endangered by farm unrest; in Washington and Oregon he has given Arthur Langlie and Douglas McKay his backing for the Senate, and he feels honor bound to support them in their uphill races. But the President has shown little concern for candidates in trouble because of local party apathy or faulty leadership. Told of two such spots in Ohio last week, he answered: "Well, why don't they do something about it instead of calling on me?"

For Ike's aides his equanimity has certain disadvantages. All last week, as worrisome field reports came in about more trouble spots across the country, they were under increasing pressure to step up the President's campaigning. But if Ike's top people were jittery, Ike was not. Late one afternoon, returning to his office after a session with his golf clubs on the White House lawn, he found half a dozen of them talking nervously just outside the door. Said the President mildly: "Why don't you go home?" The remark, half rebuke, half encouragement, told them plainly what they already knew: Ike's confidence is intact.

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