Pennsylvania: The Old Class

His snowy thatch and frosty eyes behind thick rimless glasses made him look like a crusty old literary lion. In fact, David Leo Lawrence, former Democratic Governor of Pennsylvania, was one of the shrewdest, most powerful political bosses of modern times; indeed, until his death last week at 77, he had spent every waking day of his adult life as a professional politician.

Influence & Intellect. Born in Pittsburgh on June 18, 1889, he went to work at 14 as an office boy for a leader of the moribund local Democratic machine. As labor's influence began to grow, the party began to revive, and Dave Lawrence became a tough, effective precinct captain. In 1912, he attended the Democratic presidential convention, was smitten with the polish and intellect of the nominee that year, Woodrow Wilson. Sighed Lawrence: "That man has the real class."

Two decades later—after he had himself taken over the Allegheny County machine and the state party organization—Dave Lawrence demonstrated his own kind of big-league class: he delivered Pennsylvania for Franklin Delano Roosevelt in 1936—the first time since 1856 that a Democratic presidential candidate had carried the state. By 1944, Lawrence had enough national clout to stem a convention tide favoring the renomination of Henry A. Wallace as F.D.R.'s Vice President. Amid a storm of boos on the convention floor. Lawrence demanded and won a recess. By the time the sessions resumed the next day, Wallace was out and Harry S Truman, a longtime crony of Lawrence's, was in.

Renaissance Mayor. In 1945, Lawrence decided to forsake his kingmaker's role and run for public office himself. He was elected mayor of Pittsburgh and became the only official ever to hold that office four consecutive terms. Under his aegis, the city went through a renaissance. Slums were razed, expressways were built, steelmill smog was thinned out by tough anti-pollution laws, and the city's Golden Triangle—a symbol of enlightened urban renewal—rose downtown.

In 1958, Lawrence reluctantly ran for Governor because his feuding party could not agree on anyone else. He said. "I am not a candidate of my own choosing," but campaigned mightily and defeated a Republican pretzel manufacturer to become the state's first Roman Catholic Governor. Lawrence's term in the statehouse was less effective than his Pittsburgh mayoralty, but his powers in national party sanctums had never been greater.

During early maneuvering for the 1960 Democratic presidential nomination, Lawrence was cool to John Kennedy—ironically, on religious grounds. "I'm sure," he objected, "that a Catholic running for the Presidency must have an issue so big, so strong, so completely overriding that his religion is never thought of." At the eleventh hour, when his own favorite, Adlai Stevenson, pulled out of the contest, Lawrence backed Kennedy, and the votes that he delivered sewed up J.F.K.'s nomination. Lawrence, who also won Lyndon Johnson's gratitude by nominating the Texan for the Vice-Presidency, became an influential voice in both the New Frontier and the Great Society.