OREGON: Born to Be Enemies

Jaunty little (5 ft. 7 in., 155 Ibs.) Doug McKay, born poor of pioneer Oregon stock, often says of his boyhood that he was 16 before he learned that underwear could be made of something besides flour sacks. Trim (5 ft. 10½, 162 Ibs.) Wisconsin-born Wayne Morse was more sophisticated: his fondest memory of youth is lapping up liberal philosophy "at the feet of the great Robert La Follette Sr." McKay is, and will continue to be, a devout Republican. Morse is a Republican turned Independent turned Democrat. Pitched at each other in the fiercest of the 35 Senate races this year, 63-year-old Doug McKay-ex-Interior Secretary and Dwight Eisenhower's personal choice as a challenger-and Incumbent Wayne Morse, 56, are hurtling toward Nov. 6, and what is probably the nation's most spectacular collision of political personalities.

McKay was a successful Salem Chevrolet dealer, served two terms (1949-53) as one of Oregon's best governors. Morse was a brilliant dean of the University of Oregon School of Law. McKay bows to no man in his devotion to Dwight Eisenhower ("the greatest President in history"). Morse bows to no man in his hatred of Eisenhower ("the most dangerous man who has been in the White House"). McKay is a fumbling public speaker ("The issues aren't important in this election; it's the votes")-but he has no peer at mixing, on first-name terms, with plain folks. Morse is a distinguished, if pedagogic, orator ("My duty, as I see it, is to translate moral values into legislation")-but he is probably the coldest baby-kisser in U.S. politics. McKay's eyes twinkle with warm humor. Morse's gleam with the zeal of a prophet.

"That's Not News." Whether in the lumber camps of Wallowa County or the fishing settlements along the McKenzie, Wayne Morse is working with tireless, effective energy. Arising as early as 4 a.m., he looks worn and grey as he steps forth, topcoat collar turned up, hat pulled down, into the morning mists., But he sheds his years as the day progresses. "I," he cries in martyrdom, "am the man who has been marked for a purge by the Eisenhower Administration." Instead of discussing issues, he complains, Doug McKay is merely telling everyone who'll listen how much he hates Wayne Morse. "That's not news. McKay hated me when we were both Republicans." The basic question in the campaign, he thunders, is "whether more voters love me than hate me."

Doug McKay, on the other hand, leaves his audiences unmoved as he races through his formal speeches (Once, after finishing a prepared speech, he looked up and said: "And now may I add a few words of my own"). He is at his best in a country store, passing out campaign cards with the wry reminder: "I'm out of a job, you know." At political coffee hours in the homes of friendly Republicans, his smiling wife Mabel passes out angel-food cake recipes while Doug attacks Wayne Morse ("that fellow has gone back on his word so many times that nobody can trust him") and reminisces about his Oregon youth ("The only reading matter we had was the St. Helens Sentinel-Mist, the Bible and the Sears, Roebuck catalogue"). Glowed a recent convert to McKay's cause: "Just look at old Doug-the second Cabinet member* Oregon's ever had, and he's cornier than ever."