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Convention Blues

POLITICS

By Lewis J. Liman

NEW YORK--Notes from Democratic Convention Headquarters:

Two people were dispatched from Convention Headquarters here to watch the Republican convention in Detroit last month. They issued a memo when they returned: "To all Convention Staff: The Republicans made very good use of the colors red, white and blue. Please consider using these wherever appropriate."

It's going to be that kind of convention, a four-day affair that could kill all chances for a show of party unity; a 96-hour extravaganza of political divisiveness that may rupture the party permanently; 5760 minutes of protests by communists and socialists and angry constituents that could become unwieldy and even violent.

Bill Dixon, a tall, sandy-haired Carter man who ran the president's Wisconsin campaign four years ago, now sits atop the convention throne. It's his party and the way things are going, it looks like he'll be running short of chopped liver, cole slaw and drink mixers long before the networks sign off from their play-by-play coverage of "Convention '80."

Dixon keeps a low profile. He grants few interviews and maintains a calm facade. He still contends the convention will be a success. But what is success? An open convention? Jimmy Carter nominated? Ted Kennedy hushed? Red, white and blue bunting?

The Kennedy threat is real among workers here at headquarters. A couple of weeks ago, when Kennedy threatened to file 30 minority reports, rumors spread that the convention would last five days instead of the regularly-scheduled four. Dixon ordered credentials to be printed for the extra day. Even after a Carter-Kennedy peace accord, the convention will last long hours. The right speakers may not appear during prime time.

More importantly, the Democrats simply will reinforce their current image of disunity and disorganization. The pall of the Carter Administration will extend to the darkest corners of the beer stands in Madison Square Garden: Liberty, Justice and Incompetence for all. The president, who hopes to mend fences with Kennedy when the campaign ends, may find it difficult even to shake hands with Ted at the convention podium.

A look at the convention volunteers reveals the depth of the Party's problems. Most of these grass roots workers do not support Carter. High school and college students eager to learn something about politics and have a good time at it; many openly support the more glamorous candidates: Kennedy or Anderson. Some prepare to vote for Barry Commoner. An open convention would suit them fine. Sending Carter back to Plains would be even better.

CARTER has his supporters, of course. Patronage appointees are not quick to shoot their goose. Many of them still rave about the president's performance in drawled Southern accents. The Georgia Mafia--with members from all over the country--has taken over and will be difficult to dislodge.

But the appointees remain scared. They worry that their volunteer staff will turn openly against them when the convention starts. To prevent the possibility of being outshouted on the convention floor, the Carter people are closely monitoring the distribution of convention credentials. Four years ago, any volunteer who wanted to attend the convention received credentials. This year, with the incumbent's share of supporters and news coverage, volunteers get ignored easily. No one even knows who's going to get credentials.

And the Carter people are scared of the protesters, who have filled a list with scheduled protests and plan even more, spilling through the streets of New York and into Central Park. If it sounds anything like Chicago in '68, the description is accurate. The New York police are using films from the late Mayor Daley's fiasco for training.

At convention headquarters, the volunteers remain quiet. Deprived of substantial responsibility by their appointed bosses, they secretly hope for an open convention but keep their opinions secret. Menial tasks take on increase importance. They talk about convention buses and hotel reservations. When conversation turns to Carter versus Kennedy politics, it's far easier to talk about how many credentials are being printed. Or about which colors will look best on the convention floor.

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