The Rocky Roll

(See Cover)

For Victor's Open Kitchen on the western edge of Batavia, N.Y., the breakfast order of poached eggs, toast and coffee was routine. But the customer obviously was not. While his eggs poached, he table-hopped to shake hands. He ducked behind the counter to greet the cook, the counterman, the waitresses and the busboy. For each, he flashed a broad smile, his forehead crinkled into wrinkles. "Hello, I'm Nelson Rockefeller," he said. "I'm running for Governor. It's a real pleasure to say hello to you." When the eggs were served, the candidate invited himself up to a table of sleepy breakfasting Batavians, popped a saccharin tablet into his coffee, chomped and chattered like a traveling salesman in women's ready-to-wear.

Victor's Open Kitchen last week was only an oatmeal oasis along the whirlwind political pathway for Nelson Aldrich Rockefeller. Before that day ended in Jamestown, he had traveled 200 miles, made nine campaign stops. At each he eased into a different device for winning friends and influencing voters. In Geneseo Rockefeller happily scribbled autographs for housewives, on handbags and even a check stub ("I never sign my autograph on a check"). In Alfred "Rocky" popped a blue Alfred University beanie on his head while 2,000 students cheered. In Wellsville he solemnly accepted 50¢ campaign contributions from two shy Brownie scouts. In Olean he let ward bosses wait while he strode into W. T. Grant's to shake more hands and buy a nickel's worth of green taffy. In Salamanca he grabbed a baton and directed the high school band, grabbed a hula hoop and, with a flourish, tossed it around his neck.

Patronage & Chuckles. From Batavia to Salamanca to Jamestown, Nelson Rockefeller's polished performance was a crowd pleaser that any practicing politician would have envied. Yet: 1) Rockefeller is a tyro at the game, 2) his background scarcely schooled him for hula hooping and beanie balancing. For Nelson Rockefeller is the grandson of the greatest tycoon of them all, the second son of the nation's most generous and most retiring philanthropist. He is a man who is a Croesus in his own right ($100 million, give or take a million), a man who in 30 years has counseled three Presidents, changed the living standards of large sections of South America, carved out a place in commerce, culture and international diplomacy. Adding the political touch to all this explains why Nelson Rockefeller is the hottest new Republican candidate on the U.S. political horizon. It also explains why the race for the nation's top state job, Governor of New York, is turning from a Democratic walkaway into a neck-and-neck sprint.