The Congress: The Undoing of Dodd

Tom, I have the report here. It isn't all good, Tom.

With this understatement, made all the more gentle by his rich Mississippi drawl, Senator John Stennis last week extended a bit of senatorial courtesy to Senator Thomas Dodd: he gave him an advance copy of the Stennis Committee's report on Dodd's conduct.

There was no understatement in the document's conclusion. The six-member Committee on Standards and Conduct unanimously recommended that the Senate censure the Connecticut Demo crat for behavior that is "contrary to good morals, derogates from the public trust expected of a Senator, and tends to bring the Senate into dishonor and disrepute."

From the hailstorm of allegations that has clattered down on Dodd for nearly 16 months, the committee selected just four stones to hurl at him. It accused him of accepting $8,000 from the International Latex Corp.,* of taking Senate travel funds for 13 trips also paid for by private organizations and his own campaign kitty, of accepting free use of automobiles supplied by a constituent for 21 months, and of diverting campaign funds to his personal use. Between 1961 and 1965, the investigators calculated, Dodd grossed $450,273 from seven testimonial social functions and other political fund-raising efforts. Although the testimonial donors were never informed that they were making personal gifts as distinct from campaign contributions, the committee said Dodd appropriated "at least $116,083" for himself.

Demise by Inches. It was not the function of the committee to pass legal judgment on Dodd's activities. Instead, it referred its findings to the Justice Department and the Internal Revenue Service along with information on additional accusations that the committee had not pursued in public hearings. IRS is already investigating Dodd's finances.

If what's past is prologue, Dodd's political future may be nil. Senate adoption of the censure resolution seems assured; it would make Dodd only the sixth Senator in U.S. history to be so chastised by his colleagues. While this punishment may appear lenient—especially when contrasted with the House of Representatives' exclusion of Adam Clayton Powell—the mortification of censure is a sentence to political demise by inches. Dodd will keep all official perquisites, but must inevitably lose most of his influence and prestige, amassed, ironically, through his career as an investigator of others' transgressions. There is some doubt that he will be renominated in 1970, let alone reelected. Last week six Connecticut newspapers suggested that he resign.

The long investigation has already sapped Dodd physically. As he listened wanly to Stennis make his report on the Senate floor, Dodd looked much older than his 59 years. Later, talking to reporters, he insisted that he would run again and let the people judge him: "My conscience is clear. My conduct is being judged by hindsight."