National Affairs: Politician's Spurs

Jauntily turned out in glen plaid suit and lemon shirt, New York's Governor Nelson Rockefeller went through one buoyant morning's routine in the State Capitol at Albany. He presided over a swearing-in, sat on the carpeted floor with delighted schoolchildren visitors, charmed a delegation of Methodist churchwomen. Cracked he, as a photographer posed a group portrait: "I have to be careful who I stand behind. My wife sees these pictures, you know." Amid the badinage, Nelson Rockefeller did not betray by so much as a flicker of an eye the fact that his reputation as a political leader hung in the balance in that same grey building. The issue, stated simply, was money.

Dirty Shirts? Two months earlier Republican Rockefeller, just elected by a 550,000-vote margin over Democrat Averell Harriman, captivated the legislature's Republicans by painting in broad inaugural brushstrokes a picture of the road ahead. Then legislators got a glimpse of the canvas' detail. Rockefeller introduced a record $2 billion budget, asked an unprecedented $277 million in new taxes to balance it. Many newspapers were horrified, legislators were inundated with letters protesting the increases.

Rockefeller went to television with charts and figures to argue that his requests were imperative. Democrats shouted "Soak the poor," followed him on TV with a collection of shirts, shoes and milk bottles to demonstrate the family buying power that would be sapped by his proposal to lower state income-tax exemptions ($2,500 per couple, $400 for each dependent) to the $600-per-individual federal level. One night, when he stood up to open a sports show in Manhattan, he was roundly booed. Rockefeller spoke through the boos, grinned gamely: "Who's going to dance in the streets when they have to pay more taxes?"

Friendly Clink. As his Republican majority in the Senate (34-24) and Assembly (92-56) began to show signs of crumbling, Politician Rockefeller went to work. One day he would invite legislative leaders to dinner at the executive mansion, discuss and debate for as long as five hours. Another day he would charge up to the third-floor Capitol office of Assembly Speaker Oswald Heck of upstate Schenectady to argue some more.

Gradually, a compromise was hammered out. The Governor agreed to cut $40 million from the budget and to trim his tax proposals, but not crucially. For example, he offered a gross tax credit of $25 per married couple instead of $10 per adult; he continued forgiveness on 1958 income as he shifted the state to a pay-as-you-go basis, but canceled forgiveness of capital-gains taxes. Finally, one midnight Republican leaders led Rocky to their Capitol hideaway, broke out ice and bottles, clinked glasses to victory.

Down the River? The toast was premature. Although the Senate seemed to be in hand, 29 assemblymen—nearly a third of the G.O.P. majority—announced (what with elections due next year) that they were still unwilling to support Rockefeller without additional cuts.