Beyond Ideology

Angered by the G.O.P. moderates' drive to oust Dean Burch, his hand-picked Republican national chairman, Barry Goldwater flared to a friend last month: "I may not be able to keep Burch in, but I'm sure as hell not going to let Rockefeller name Ray Bliss." Last week Barry strode onto the sunny patio of his Phoenix home to name Ray Bliss. Grimly Goldwater explained that at this week's meeting of the Republican National Committee in Chicago Burch could not expect the resounding vote of confidence he needed, and he would therefore resign to avoid a "long and divisive" intraparty fight. Added Barry: "I have always sought for unity, and I do now."

While Goldwater thus went through the last painful act of a surrender, made inevitable by his disastrous defeat last November, he was by no means surrendering to a Rockefeller man. The bland but brilliantly successful boss of the Republican Party in Ohio, Bliss had stayed out of the convention wrangling between moderates and conservatives last summer, then had worked loyally for Candidate Goldwater, though from the start he took a dim view of Barry's chances and of the way he campaigned. In Bliss, the Republicans finally have what they desperately need: a chairman who is a superb technician, acceptable to all wings of the party, and less interested in ideology than in electing Republicans. Says he: "My philosophy is that I'm for a Republican when he's nominated."

Something to Do. Goldwater's acceptance of Bliss did not come easily. Less than a week before, in his Washington apartment, Barry had listened in angry disbelief as two of his most loyal supporters, Running Mate William Miller and Nebraska's National Committeeman Donald Ross, along with Ray Bliss himself, patiently explained that Burch was not worth fighting for. Miller declared that a thin, five-vote majority was the very best Burch could hope for in the 132-member National Committee. Later Miller spent another two hours urging Barry to accept Bliss. At last Barry agreed, but he insisted that Bliss must make a public statement that he would not consider taking the chairmanship unless Goldwater supported him.

Few men are better qualified to take over than Ray Bliss. He started in politics "just for something to do" in 1931 on the level of envelope licker and errand runner during the mayoralty campaign in his home town of Akron. Slowly he worked his way up to state committeeman by impressing such sterling Republicans as Senator Robert A. Taft with his attention to detail. In 1947 Bliss decided to quit politics for the insurance and real estate business, but when the hurricane of Harry Truman's surprise victory hit in 1948, Taft immediately persuaded Bliss to come back as a salaried state chairman and pick up the pieces.

Plodding and patient, Bliss instituted interminable polls and surveys, built a network of grass-roots organizations, set up a harddriving, get-out-the-vote machine. A bare two years later, the Republicans were so strong again that they recaptured control of both houses of the legislature and every state office except the governorship. Ever since, despite a couple of setbacks, Bliss's Ohio G.O.P. has been one of the most dependable state organizations in the country.

In 1960 Bliss delivered the state to Richard Nixon over John Kennedy-much to the surprise of Kennedy's expert pollsters. And even in the shambles of Barry Goldwater's 1964 defeat, Bliss's Republicans kept control of both houses of the legislature and came out with a 14-to-10 edge over the Democrats in the Ohio congressional delegation. Bob Taft Jr. lost to Incumbent Democrat Stephen Young for the Senate, but by only 13,000, while Johnson ran more than 1,000,000 ahead of Goldwater.

Big Enough. "I've been a desk chairman," says Bliss. "I don't profess to be an orator. I've always felt it my duty to build up the candidates, not Ray Bliss." The national build-up job that he faces now is monumental. The Republicans' rank-and-file structure, demoralized and in disarray after Barry Goldwater's leaden leadership, must be almost completely remodeled and reorganized. Dean Burch, inexperienced and fanatically loyal to Barry's right wing, purged some of the National Committee's best staff people on the ground--real or imagined--that they were not trustworthy. And on a loftier level, while the Republican Party has some outstanding and attractive potential presidential candidates among Governors (Romney, Scranton, et al.), a governorship no longer seems as strong a springboard to national office as it used to be. Increasingly, voters seem to want national experience and exposure in their national candidates.

Says Pragmatist Bliss: "If the Democratic Party is big enough for Harry Byrd and Hubert Humphrey, then the Republican Party is big enough for Jack Javits and Barry Goldwater." Which does not alter the fact that, for all of Bliss's avoidance of ideology, the party will need ideas--and obviously they will have to come from the Javits forces rather than the Goldwater side. In fact, New York's Senator Javits last week suggested that the National Committee "set in motion the machinery to call a national conclave to replace" the current Republican platform, because "we will be hindering most Republican candidates for Congress in 1966 if we permit the 1964 platform to remain as the most up-to-date declaration of national Republican policy."

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