The Nation: Reagan: 'I Don't Want Another 1964'

As Ronald Reagan's struggle for Republican delegates came under its worst strain, TIME National Political Correspondent Robert Ajemian spoke with the Governor at his Pacific Palisades home. Reports Ajemian:

"I know the President has many inducements to offer these uncommitted delegates," said Ronald Reagan with an easy smile, "and he's offering them." Typically, Reagan sounded affable as he made that blunt accusation. He sat in the long living room of his Pacific Palisades house, jaunty in his Chinese-red slacks and matching sandals. The deep creases in his face and neck gave way to a tanned chest, under his loosened sports shirt, that was as smooth as a young lifeguard's. As Reagan saw it, Gerald Ford's campaign staff has not been above dangling a highway here, a hospital there, a loan from the Small Business Administration. He went on: "I never ask these delegates directly to come out and support me. They've got to decide that on their own."

At the end of his eight-month campaign, Ronald Reagan was very much the way he was at the beginning: the reluctant politician whose words were fiercer than his manner. Win or lose, his candidacy has been extraordinary. He was seen by many as shallow and simplistic and even dangerous. All but a handful of Senators and Congressmen shunned him. He was opposed by nearly every state organization. He had practically no editorial support.

But when it was all over, Reagan—virtually alone—had collected several hundred thousand more votes than the President in contested primaries. The popular explanation was that opponent Ford was dull. But Reagan on his own had surely touched a public nerve. Now, trailing Ford in delegates, he was fighting—in his low-key way—to keep the race alive.

Hard to Capture. The phone rang and Reagan moved into the study to pick it up. It was a return call from South Carolina Governor James Edwards, an ally. Reagan's voice was tentative: "Jim, I don't want to cause any problems, but do you think we could get out that announcement about your uncommitted? It would be a nice boost now." He talked for a while longer about the timing of the announcement and returned, looking pleased.

Nevertheless, the uncommitted are proving hard for Reagan to capture. A couple of weeks ago, he was speaking with his usual polished force to a small cluster of Illinois delegates. As he had done with other uncommitted, Reagan stressed his electability, his better chance of smoking out Jimmy Carter. But the staring faces showed little response. After a painful silence, Reagan went on talking. He told them he was less vulnerable than Ford to Democrats. When he finished, there was no applause, only more silence. Asked if he thought he had won over many of the delegates, Reagan shrugged: "They give so little feedback, it's impossible to tell." For Reagan, the winning orator, the man with the sure sense of the mood of his audiences, the uncommitted are maddeningly tough to read.