Turning the Flank

The sharp crack of political rifle fire spanged through Washington again last week as Democrats picked off Democrats up the length of Pennsylvania Avenue. The sniping at Majority Leader Lyndon Johnson and his cautious tactics in Congress had been going on for months, but seasoned observers thought they detected a new note in last week's skirmishing: General Johnson and his moderate image of the Democratic Party were winning new and unexpected recruits, were in their strongest position to date. The liberal flank was being turned.

Butler's Blast. Opening gun in the latest and biggest fight was fired by Paul Butler, chairman of the Democratic National Committee. Ever since Johnson and Speaker Sam Rayburn adopted a new legislative strategy that coincided with President Eisenhower's (and the nation's) vision of a balanced budget, Butler had been frustrated, tormented. Last week he put his feelings on the public record. "We are going to be in a tough situation in 1960," he told a TV interviewer. "Quite a few Democrats around the country are unhappy about the progress that has been made in the first session [of Congress]."

Quite a few Democrats, it turned out, were just as unhappy about Paul Butler. Before the next morning's explosive headlines had grown cool, the Capitol dome began to sound like a hive of angry bees. "Mr. Butler should resign," cried South Carolina's William Jennings Bryan Dorn. "He evidently thinks all of the thinking and planning of the Democratic Party should be done by himself and his liberal gang." Mister Sam was a man of few words: "We'll just let Mr. Butler stew."

The granddaddy of them all, Rhode Island's 91-year-old Senator Theodore Francis Green, was certain that such an attack by a national chairman on fellow Democrats was "most unusual and, I believe, completely without precedent." A member of the National Committee himself, Green sternly warned Butler not to use his office as "a gun pit from which to fire on Democratic candidates."

"If he fails to resign, the Democratic National Committee ought to fire him at the first opportunity," raged Georgia's Herman Talmadge. "We are paying Butler $35,000 a year to try to destroy the Democratic Party while [G.O.P. Chairman] Thruston Morton would be glad to do it for free."

Ode to Lyndon. But the odes to Lyndon Johnson were far more meaningful. Indiana's Freshman Vance Hartke (an avowed political enemy of fellow Hoosier Butler, who opposed Hartke's nomination last year) fairly wooed the muse: "His hand has been firm on the tiller, insisting that the ship of state not founder on the rocks of partisanship. No one who has sat in this chamber could question for a moment the man most responsible for this state of the nation. He is Lyndon B. Johnson." Other Democrats of every persuasion fell in line to praise Johnson and his program. Among them: Alaska's Bob Bartlett, Florida's Spessard Holland, Wyoming's Gale McGee, Alabama's John Sparkman. "Great progressive leadership," cried Ohio's Stephen Young. This was far more than the usual reflex action to an attack on a member of the club: the Johnsonian gonfalon, it was plain to see, was moving deep into the liberal ranks.

Butler had a few champions, too ("I completely agree with him," gritted Michigan's Pat McNamara), and he was far from intimidated. At the Sheraton-Park Hotel he conferred with 95 liberal Democratic leaders from 24 states, won a ringing endorsement. After the meeting he announced that he had no intention of resigning. "Neither the leadership of the party nor of Congress," he said, "should be above constructive criticism."

Party's Problem. Beyond the battle, many Democratic leaders were deeply alarmed over the big split. During the long night sessions clusters of Senators gathered together to discuss the real nature of the party's problem. With stop-inflation letters rolling into their offices by the thousands, they did not have to go far for an answer. "Those old liberals like Joe Clark and Paul Douglas have become quaint," said one old Senate hand. "The old concept was that if you had a bill for one billion dollars, to be a liberal you made it two billion. If you had a hot-lunch program, you made it a liberal program by adding vitamin pills. We have an entirely new set of problems, and we can't apply the standards to them used in the 1930s."

Out of all the party's ideological ferment and anguish a new model of the "proper Democrat" is surely emerging. It is likely to be a more moderate model, more in step with the times, and walking the Lyndon Johnson line. "It could be that Lyndon has been right all along," mused Wisconsin's liberal Bill Proxmire, who had been the first to voice a rebel yell against his leader (TIME, March 2). "Maybe he's smarter than all of us."

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