THE VICE PRESIDENCY: The Realized Asset

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Many a wise old political head was wagged in pity last September when Vice President Richard Nixon put Texas on his campaign itinerary. All the signs of local politics indicated that Texas would be a Republican wasteland—and Republican campaigning for Texas' 24 electoral votes a waste of precious time. At first the old heads seemed right; Nixon spoke m Houston's Music Hall to a crowd that filled fewer than two-thirds of the 4,000 seats. But the Vice President listened as he talked, looked as he was looked at, and recommended that the G.O.P. make a real Texas try. During the campaign he flew 800 miles across the state, speaking to ever more enthusiastic crowds at Fort Worth, San Antonio and El Paso. On his recommendation, Dwight Eisenhower added Dallas to the presidential schedule. This week, as Nixon had hoped and expected, Texas was a real political battleground, and the Eisenhower-Nixon ticket had a chance to win the battle.

What happened in Texas is only one detail of the unsung political phenomenon of 1956: the widespread realization that Richard Milhous Nixon is a prime national asset to the Republican Party, not only because of his political skill but also because of his genuine appeal to the U.S. electorate. By Nov. 6 the young (43) Vice President will have traveled 42,000 miles by airplane, train and car, will have made more than 150 campaign speeches in 36 states.* He has been a field strategist as well as a campaigner, firing back his analysis of what other G.O.P. campaigners can do, where and when they should do it. As his travels have progressed, his crowds have grown in size and warmth, and he has given the G.O.P. cause a vital lift all over the U.S. Says Victor Johnston, director of the Republican Senatorial Campaign Committee: "He's the best campaigner we've got, bar none."

The verdict has been echoed in state after state. California Republicans, troubled by Democratic organization strength, count Nixon's speech at Whittier (his home town) as the send-off of a campaign that seems headed toward victory; Michigan's G.O.P. leaders consider Nixon's appearance at Grand Rapids the turning point of their campaign; Pennsylvania's bickering, despondent Republican chiefs, still in deep trouble, were astonished and encouraged by the reception that Democratic Philadelphia gave the Republican Vice President. When Nixon finished a speech at a Republican rally at the Maryland State Fair Grounds, G.O.P. State Chairman Eldred Rinehart rushed up to a Nixon aide, grabbed him by the sleeve and pleaded: "We've got to get him back here to work the Eastern Shore."

Man Without Horns. In view of the talent and tenacity that Dick Nixon has shown in ten years of dramatically successful political life, it was not surprising that he should be an effective campaigner in 1956. What surprised many political observers was his ability to become a shining asset—and not a liability—to the Republican cause. The victim of a concentrated assault unparalleled in recent U.S. political history, he first had to erase the black and distorted picture his foes had painted unceasingly for nearly eight years. One of his aides summed up the task: "We had to show the country that he didn't have horns."