Friday, Oct. 21, 1966

Cashkrieg

Short of staying off the streets, cutting off the newspaper, unplugging the radio, boycotting TV and locking the mailbox, the only way a Pennsylvanian can ignore this fall's cacophonous gubernatorial campaign is by clearing out of the state. In one of the nation's most flamboyant and free-spending races, Democrat Milton J. Shapp, 53, and Republican Lieutenant Governor Raymond P. Shafer, 49, by the morning of Nov. 8 will have lavished at least $3,600,000 on the cashkrieg campaign for the governorship.

Though the G.O.P. plans to spend $1,600,000 of that sum, Millionaire Shapp has made Shafer look like Scrooge. In Philadelphia and Pittsburgh alone, the Democrat's homely, intense visage peers out from 180 buses and 400 taxis. Along highways from the Alleghenies to the Poconos, 1,200 bright orange Shapp billboards vie with the autumn foliage; 80 radio stations play his 30-and 60-second spots ("If you liked William Penn, you'll love Milton Shapp"). Local TV stations will carry at least 300 last-minute Shapp spiels; his workers are mailing a four-color, 16-page brochure to 3,500,000 voters.

Beyond Frederick. Shapp, an engineer by training, parlayed a $500 investment into a fortune exceeding $10 million with a Philadelphia-based electronics firm that bears his middle name. Though he had long hankered to get into politics, the keepers of the Keystone State's Democratic machine--not unlike the G.O.P. bosses in John O'Hara's Ten North Frederick--wanted Milt's money more than they wanted Milt. To many party leaders, Shapp seemed an egotistical buffoon. There was also the fact that he was born Milton Shapiro--and no Jew had ever run for Pennsylvania's highest office.

The non-O'Hara sequel to the Frederick standoff was that Shapp decided to go it alone--with $1,400,000 of his own money. In May, he scored a triumphal 50,000-vote primary upset over the Democrats' machine-backed candidate, and badly shook both parties. While the Republicans tried feverishly to anticipate Shapp's strategy, Democratic bigwigs belatedly sought to win the parvenu's allegiance. At a banquet in Harrisburg, ex-Governor David Lawrence, longtime Democratic kingmaker, allowed: "Crow should have been the main dish. I must admit I am eating mine." Shapp thereupon served him another portion. After the dinner, he charged--with some reason--that Lawrence's organization had "stalled" Democratic progress, and demanded--unsuccessfully--that he be given control of the machine.

The Decibel Gap. By contrast with Maverick Shapp, Yale-trained Attorney Shafer is a dutiful, if undistinguished, party pro; he served two terms as a state senator before running with William Scranton--who cannot succeed himself--in 1962. While Shapp is a wispy, almost Chaplinesque figure, Shafer, son of a Protestant minister, is a craggy-faced, sandy-haired, 6-ft. 2-in. ex-athlete who won nine letters at Allegheny College to go with his Phi Beta Kappa key. Lawyer Shafer is as taciturn as Tycoon Shapp is talkative. Shafer "comes on like Mount Rushmore," as one Pennsylvanian puts it, "and is about as animated."

Though Shafer was once considered a conservative, both candidates stand on liberal platforms that favor open housing and oppose right-to-work laws. Shafer is emphasizing "progress and prosperity," noting that unemployment has dipped to 2.8%, lowest in 16 years. Shapp insists that "beneath the surface, there are unmistakable signs that Pennsylvania's economy is crumbling." He also discovered that Pennsylvania is the only state that exempts railroad, telephone, electric and gas companies from local real estate taxes, and has hammered away at the theme of "the great public utilities robbery."

Not for Sale. The candidates have devoted most of their energies to name-calling. Shapp charges that Shafer is a "Goldwaterite" and "against everything that benefits the public." Shafer pictures Shapp as an "eccentric" whose proposals are either "crackbrained" or "crazy." Shapp claims that Shafer "already has pawned the governorship" to "fat-cat hidden bosses." Shafer says that Shapp is out to buy the state, passes out buttons showing a NOT FOR SALE sign plastered across a photo of the statehouse.

Both candidates are relying heavily on outside help. Last week Teddy Kennedy and Hubert Humphrey stumped for Shapp. Richard Nixon and New York's Republican Senator Jacob Javits have spoken for Shafer, Scranton has scheduled 40 speeches, and Pennsylvania's Senator Hugh Scott has given him vigorous support. This week Bobby Kennedy will campaign for Shapp; Shafer will counter with Dwight Eisenhower, who will play host at Gettysburg to a reunion of Shafer's old PT boat squadron.

Shafer last week led by 6% in some polls, but the undecided vote is extraordinarily large--one poll puts it as high as 45% . One reason for the indecision is that though many voters once thought of Shapp as the David--however well armed--who overturned the Democratic Goliath, they now question whether the open-handed electronics tycoon is qualified to take over the state government. Cleveland-born Shapp has not been helped by his bray that "I know more about Pennsylvania than any other one man in the state." Neither Governor Scranton, whose family has been prominent in the state for four generations, nor his Lieutenant Governor makes any such claim. Besides, Shafer stands to inherit much of the immense residual popularity of the Scranton administration, one of the most popular and effectual that Pennsylvania has known in decades.

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