Hot on the Campaign Trail

The audience is Republican, predominantly white and well-to-do.

The listeners' eyes are fixed intently on the tall, handsome, silver-haired speaker. They examine him carefully, skeptically, expectantly. They search for a clue to the character of this glamorous ex-Governor, ex-Democrat, ex-Cabinet member and crony of many Presidents, who now declares that he can provide the leadership the nation needs. Says he: "In 1980 we must change the course of history."

John Bowden Connally Jr., 62, was speaking to 1,500 party loyalists at a candidates' forum in Chicago, but the mood and curiosity were repeated in 25 cities in ten states last month as he cantered north from his Texas ranch in his quest for the White House. He has paced himself carefully, first courting the faithful of his adopted party and luring many of its leaders into his camp, then hitting the board rooms where his fund-raising ability is legendary. This month he will be on the road for 25 days in 16 states. His extravagant television campaign, which highlights his service as Texas Governor, Navy Secretary and Treasury Secretary, will hit screens wherever there are votes.

Connally still has a long way to go. The Yankelovich, Skelly and White, Inc. poll for TIME shows that he stands fourth among Republicans, well behind Front Runner Ronald Reagan. One of his difficulties is that some Republicans think he still lacks legitimacy and are embarrassed to support him openly. "There are still a lot of myths about me," Connally told TIME Washington Bureau Chief Robert Ajemian. "I've got to clear them up." But his ability to excite crowds and raise money causes many political experts to believe that if he can surmount those "myths," the tall Texan is the most formidable Republican challenger for the presidency. Richard Nixon himself phones occasionally to offer encouragement and to predict the polls will change.

Connally's sure, deep voice exudes confidence, comforting and commanding his Chicago audience like a wise smalltown sheriff. Speaking without a prepared text, he ticks off facts and figures, developing his arguments lucidly and engaging his listeners with a tone of careful sincerity. He is always controlled, raising his voice only for emphasis. Yet he comes across as a vibrant orator, striking an emphatic rhythm like an oldtime Democrat. His Texan images are simple but colorful: the stubborn steer, the weak-kneed politician, the businessman cowering in fear of the Government. Connally has the earthiness of a backland tenant farmer's son and the urbanity of a successful international financier. He is clever enough to be self-deprecating at times, but he radiates such an enormous sense of self-confidence and self-mastery as to seem almost invulnerable. Like it or not, the brand of a unique personality is there.

The U.S. is becoming shamefully vulnerable, he tells his audience.

In the past eight years the national debt has gone up from $400 billion to $800 billion. "Try to get a ton of steel into France and see what happens," he taunts. "If the French steel industry doesn't want it, the government will automatically back them up." America, he says, should not allow other countries to push our economy around or subject us