The Nation: A GRACIOUS TOWN IN THE HEARTLAND

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Kansas City has festooned itself with red, white and blue bunting for the convention. Practically everything in town seems to smell of fresh paint, including such bump-and-grind joints along Twelfth Street as the Pink Door (a new coat of pink, naturally) and the Can-Can Club (mauve and green). Even Ray's Playpen, the city's leading porno shop, has redecorated its windows with a donkey and an elephant, both looking sedate.

The only discord involves possible demonstrations. The Kansas City Convention Coalition, a mixed bag of protesters ranging from homosexuals to Yippies and anarchists, requested a permit to camp out in Penn Valley Park, a large expanse just behind the Crown Center, where President Ford will be staying. The city refused. Last week the coalition announced that it expected at least 2,500 demonstrators and that despite the turndown they would camp in Penn Valley Park, bathe in the park's small lake and dig latrines with a rented backhoe. That threat was greeted with some truculence. "By God," countered Parks Director Frank Vaydik. "they aren't going to tear up anything in that park. I don't care who I have to call in." The entire 1,200-man Kansas City police department has been given crowd-control training and put on full alert; more than 325 Missouri state police and deputy sheriffs from surrounding counties have been mustered to help. Since the Kansas state line runs next to the Kemper Arena, squads of cops from Kansas City, Kans., will patrol there.

Damn Right. The city hopes to gross about $8 million on the convention, a good return on an investment of only $500,000. Frugal Democratic Mayor Charles Wheeler plans to recover even some of that money. When the convention is over, the 4-ft.-long sounding block on which the gavel is pounded will be cut up into 2½-in. chips and placed on commemorative plaques. Price: $100 each. Does Wheeler, a good Democrat, plan to buy one? Says he: "Damn right. Every family needs one."