And the Big Name Is Wagner

At 11:40 p.m., less than two hours after the polls closed, Bronx Democratic Boss Charles Buckley, 73, walked scowling from a back door of the decrepit office building that houses his headquarters. Two reporters met him with questions. "Get the hell outa the way," snarled a Buckley henchman. Those words were downright kindly compared with Buckley's own profanity. After 30 years as Congressman from New York's 23rd District, during which he rose to the chairmanship of the pork-barreling House Public Works Committee, Buck ley had just been beaten in his party's primary by a political dude named Jonathan Brewster Bingham.

For eleven years, grumpy Charlie had ramrodded the Bronx Democratic ma chine he inherited from Franklin D.

Roosevelt's old friend, Boss Ed Flynn.

Both in The Bronx and in the House, Buckley was in position to do a lot of favors for a lot of important Democrats. President Kennedy went out of his way to praise Buckley publicly. President Johnson supported him with a warmly worded letter in his fight against Bingham. Robert Kennedy spoke in New York on behalf of his reelection.

Who's a Stiff? Buckley contemptuously dismissed Reform Challenger Bingham, 50, as a "punk" and a "big stiff." At one point, he chortled, "Jonathan--now what kind of a name is that for The Bronx? And look at his middle name--Brewster--isn't that pathetic?" Bingham indeed seemed out of place in The Bronx, which in considerable part is a low-income land of garment workers and small shopkeepers, of tenements and Bronx cheer. A slim, silver-haired, impeccably tailored product of Groton and Yale, Bingham has been for the past three years a U.S. representative to the United Nations.

But Bingham also had something to talk about. He attacked Buckley's notable record of House absenteeism (present for only 34% of House roll calls last year), charged him with padding his House committee payroll to pay personal political aides. Each day Bingham strode through Bronx streets, shaking hands and making impromptu speeches, often accompanied by his grey poodle, named Yankee Poodle, who wore a sign, "Underdogs for Bingham." At campaign's end he came as close as he ever did to language that Charlie Buckley might really understand when he told a group of campaign workers: "If the ladies will excuse me, we fought like hell." He won 26,000 to 22,000.

Measure of Influence. Two other ma chine men were stopped in New York last week. In the 21st Congressional District, Chief Buckley Lieutenant and five-term Representative James C. Healey lost 20,000 to 22,000 to Reformer James H. Scheuer. In Greenwich Vil lage, onetime Tammany Hall Boss Carmine De Sapio lost a second bid to regain his district leadership to Attorney Edward I. Koch in a 5,904 to 5,740 vote. In one exception, however, 19th District Congressman Leonard Farbstein, an oldtime Tammany politician, turned back reform Challenger William Haddad, 35, with 19,851 votes to Haddad's 16,700.

All four victories were shared by one man--New York's Democratic Mayor Robert Wagner. Wagner came out publicly for Farbstein, the only Tammany type the mayor chose to support. The mayor endorsed both Bingham and Scheuer, has long fought to keep Tammany Tiger De Sapio from power. His decision to back Bingham despite the Administration's endorsement of Buckley probably won Wagner no presidential good will. But the outcome certainly increased his stature in and influence over the New York Democratic Party.

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