Pre-Convention Minuet

Governor Dewey was less talkative than ever last week about the 1944 GOPresidential nomination. In fact, he did not even say that he was not a candidate. All the talking was done by Alfred M. Landon, of Topeka, Kans. "I recognize [Dewey] as the outstanding possibility," said Mr. Landon in Governor Dewey's bedroom at the Roosevelt Hotel in New York. "No comment," said Mr. Dewey, smiling.

This immediately sent political reporters into long columns of feverish speculation. They examined this meager phrase, with all the care of a music critic listening to Lily Pons hitting the F above high C in the mad scene from Lucia. Was Mr. Dewey now a millimeter's distance more available? Or less?

Next day Sponsor Landon seemed to need a sponsor himself. During a brief stay in Washington, he had passed harsh judgment on Cordell Hull's Moscow achievements--so harsh, in fact, that Hearst's N.Y. Daily Mirror rejoiced: "To use Mr. Landon's own expressive word again, the Moscow conference was a 'cheat'. . . . We need more of the Landon type of outspoken courage today." Some Republicans felt they could do with a bit less of it, and ex-President Herbert Hoover gallantly came to Mr. Landon's rescue. "The Governor did not take a position in opposition to the Moscow pact," explained Mr. Hoover in his most reasonable tone, thus baffling one & all.

Throughout the week's Manhattan activity, the Landon-Hoover axis seemed to work smoothly in just one direction--against Wendell Willkie. Mr. Landon was curious as to "what ticket Mr. Willkie was aiming to end up on." In effect, two defeated GOPresidential candidates were helping a third one remain just that.

Tom Dewey seemed not at all sure whether he enjoyed such support. Coming from quarters outstandingly lacking political appeal, it could have been turned into embarrassment--if there had been an aggressive Democratic drive throughout the country. But there was none. So Governor Dewey took a cautious bow, in no particular direction.

There was more evidence last week of anti-Willkie feeling in the G.O.P.

In Salt Lake City's Newhouse Hotel, G.O.P. national, state and county committeemen from eleven western states met for a two-day "Save America" powwow. Most committeemen were content to grouse about the liquor shortage, while their political optimism ran high. They listened to optimistic speeches, passed routine anti-New Deal resolutions.

Not so Washington's acting National Committeeman Fred Baker, onetime Boy Scout leader and active Willkieite, who arrived with an eight-page "Salt Lake City Charter" in his pocket. Fred Baker's charter contained some bold, some sensible proposals: abolition of the Senate's two-thirds rule on approval of treaties, extension of social security to farmers and small businessmen, a tax on war-induced incomes, creation of a War Cabinet.

Goodman Baker thought these would be good topics for discussion, perhaps even for adoption as resolutions. But soon Fred Baker found himself doing nothing more than wearily explaining that his charter was not framed by Wendell Willkie. The delegates were skeptical; they were not all necessarily anti-Willkie but they did not want to be even casually labeled as Willkieites. Fred Baker tried to read his program at a formal dinner; he was stopped. He tried to present it in open meeting; he was balked. All he could do was submit it to the resolutions committee, of which he was not made a member.

The resolutions committee was headed by pugnacious Fictioneer Clarence Budington Kelland, who had traveled all the way from his home at Port Washington, N.Y., to assume his place as National Committeeman from Arizona (where he has a summer home). When Bud Kelland's committee got through with Fred Baker's proposal, all that was left was a one-sentence resolution recommending the admission of Alaska as the 49th State.

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