Kentucky: The City Slickers

Kentucky was deep in what it likes best: a feudist political campaign.

Last week, at Mount Sterling, which used to be called Little Mountain Town, the hillmen gathered for the traditional "Court Day''—marking the opening of the fall term of the county court. Many were unshaven. Their faces were criss crossed with the wounds of weather. They wore battered hats, carried pistols in their pockets. They sold their tin cans filled with rich sorghum molasses, swapped shotguns, powder horns and hunting dogs, bought snake oil, ax handles and buckets of yams. Into their midst walked the Democratic candidate for the U.S. Senate, a man with the alliterative name of Wilson Watkins Wyatt. "I'm Wilson Wyatt,'' he said, as he handshook his way through the hillmen. "I'm Wilson Wyatt . . .I'm Wilson Wyatt ... I'm Wilson Wyatt . . ." He climbed a rickety ladder to a platform on top of a shack, grabbed a microphone and told a story about a coon dog that ran into a barbed wire fence and got cut up. A vet put the dog back together, but got the head at the wrong end. "Now," shouted Wyatt, "that dog is like my opponent. He can bark at both ends and run in both directions at the same time." The crowd loved it: this was Democratic country.

At McKee, a tiny town in the Wilderness Trail country, Republican Senator Thruston Morton got out of a borrowed yellow Cadillac, mingled with tobacco-chewing men in bib overalls. It was beastly hot, and sweat dripped from Morton's face. He was gracious, but seemed much more reserved than Wyatt. The group moved inside the dilapidated courthouse. A trial was in session, but the judge ordered a recess so that Morton could speak. He was introduced by a local orator: "We're a workin' people, we're a God-fearin' people, we're a peace-lovin' people. And when we get home today, we're goin' to walk for Morton, we're goin' to talk for Morton, we're goin' to vote for Morton." Thruston Morton spread wide his arms, and his deep voice rang through the courtroom. "It wasn't necessary for President Kennedy to come twice to Kentucky to explain that I'm a Republican," he cried. "Everyone in Kentucky knows I'm a Republican." The crowd loved it: this was Republican country, which went 90% for Nixon in 1960.

Rival Schools. In their campaigns, both Wyatt and Morton have mined about as many votes as they can from Kentucky's most populous areas, particularly Louisville. Now they are hitting the hills and the back trails in last, desperate efforts to win the supporters who might make the difference in a dead-even race. Both do pretty well, even though both are Louisville city slickers.

Morton is a seventh-generation Kentuckian whose family grew wealthy in the flour-mill business. He served in the Navy for 51 months during World War II, was elected to Congress three times, served under Ike as Assistant Secretary of State for Congressional Relations, beat Democrat Earle Clements for the Senate in 1956. He was Eisenhower's choice for Republican National Committee chairman to succeed New York's Len Hall, held the job for three years.