DURING this fall's political campaigning, two of the new 1962 crop of candidates made TIME'S cover. One was Democrat Teddy Kennedy of Massachusetts, seeking his brother's old Senate seat. The other was Pennsylvania's William Scranton, waging a hot fight for the governorship. They proved to be two of the big winners in last week's elections.

Another name to reckon with also came out of the voting: Michigan's George Romney, and he is the subject of this week's cover story.

IN our efforts to cover Moscow, we are often forced to engage in a little journalistic cold war with the Soviets that can be almost as intriguing as the real cold war that goes on around it. Consider our latest experience:

In recent months, the Russians have lifted their censorship (although they still read all outgoing dispatches and show their displeasure later). They also seemed walling to let a few more correspondents into Moscow's tight little press colony. We saw an opportunity to expand our Moscow bureau and to break in a successor on the spot for Moscow Bureau Chief Ed Stevens, who has covered the grim Moscow story on and off since 1935 and wants reassignment outside Russia.

And so Tokyo Bureau Chief Don Connery applied for admission and accreditation. The Soviets gave every indication of tolerating if not welcoming our expansion. With their encouragement, Connery went to Moscow, leaving his wife and four small children temporarily behind in the U.S. until he could find Moscow housing for them and get his permanent accreditation. It turned out to be a wise precaution. By Moscow standards he found a "good"' apartment (all four children sleeping in one room), but getting accredited was another matter.

At first the Soviets let him in for one week only as a ''tourist." Then they gave him press accreditation allowing him to work, but putting him on a month-to-month basis, assuring him that he would ultimately be permanently accredited. Two weeks ago they zigzagged completely. The Soviets said that they had nothing against Connery or his work, but that if TIME was allowed to expand its bureau, they would have to let too many other Western correspondents in.

If we could have but one Moscow correspondent, we replied, then Bureau Chief Stevens would leave and Connery would remain. Surprised by this unexpected turn of events, the Soviet Foreign Ministry said that they would reconsider. Two days later they informed us that since "the U.S. has now allowed additional Soviet journalists to work in Washington," Connery could stay indefinitely. They told Connery that his family could join him, and from Washington issued visas for his wife and children. Last week, the day of Leslie Connery's scheduled departure from New York, her visas were mysteriously canceled. Two hours later in Moscow, Correspondent Don Connery was summarily informed that he was to be expelled. This time they dropped all pretexts: they did not like his candid coverage of the Cuban crisis, and proclaimed him "unacceptable."

Correspondent Connery has been expelled; Bureau Chief Stevens is being reassigned as he wants outside the Soviet Union. And we will start all over again applying for admission for a new TIME bureau chief in Moscow who will be able, we hope, to say what he means in his cables to us.

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