Opinion

Crises in Both Parties / The 'party of Lincoln' and Sen. Thurmond

Trent Lott's present difficulties merit a quiet reflection on the history and change in the Republican Party during the last half century. Sen. Strom Thurmond has had an impact on the lives of many beside Lott, in that he was probably the primary factor in Richard Nixon's winning the presidency in 1968.

Until 1967, I had been a small-town lawyer with little interest in politics save civil rights. But that year, our Congressman died suddenly and I was unexpectedly elected to represent San Mateo County in Congress in a special election, the first Republican to run in opposition to the Vietnam War.

In the summer of 1968 I went to my first national Republican convention in Miami to work for the nomination of Nelson Rockefeller, who was was challenging the favorite, former Vice President Nixon. The polls showed Nixon had close to 650 committed delegates.

As I remember, Nixon needed 675 votes on the first ballot to win. After talking with a number of his delegates, it became apparent that many did not like him personally, but were committed to him solely for the first ballot because of an appearance he had made in their hometown in earlier years. It also became apparent that after the first ballot, many of those delegates would desert him, because they were far more attracted to the new conservative Republican star, California Gov. Ronald Reagan, than they were to New York Governor Rockefeller.

On the second day of the convention, as I went walking through one of those huge Miami Beach hotels, I heard Thurmond speak to an audience of Southerners. The gist of Thurmond's message was clear: You Southern Republicans want to vote for Reagan because he's the true conservative, but stick with Nixon on the first ballot because he has promised, if elected, to stop enforcing the Civil Rights and Voting Right Acts of 1964 and 1965. (So far as any of us knew,

Nixon had been a civil-rights supporter during his tenure as Dwight Eisenhower's vice president.)

His message got across. The following day, enough of the Southerners stuck with Nixon to put him barely over the top, with about a dozen ballots above the 675 required.

In November, Nixon barely edged out a fast-closing Vice President Hubert Humphrey, in part because Humphrey was tainted with the Vietnam War policies of the Johnson Administration and Nixon had hinted at a secret plan "to end the war."

Following the election, California's Bob Finch, John Veneman and my former law partner, Lewis Butler were sworn in, respectively, as secretary, assistant secretary and secretary for policy for Health, Education and Welfare. We all had high hopes for an early end to the Vietnam War and continuing progress to achieve equal rights for minorities.

In the spring, when Finch and Veneman were traveling outside of Washington, Butler served briefly as acting Secretary of HEW. A call came from the White House. It was Bob Mardian, later to be indicted for his role in the Watergate coverup. He didn't mince words: Leon Panetta, who was then director of HEW's Office of Civil Rights, had to be fired. His offense, Mardian explained, was for enforcing the Civil Rights Act. "Doesn't he understand Nixon promised the Southern delegates he would stop enforcing the Civil Rights and Voting Rights Acts?"

Upon their return to Washington, Finch and Veneman threatened to resign if forced to fire Panetta. Nixon, never one to relish confrontation, called off the dogs for the time being.

Several weeks later, however, Panetta, seeing the handwriting on the wall, resigned, returned to California, switched to the Democratic Party and ran for Congress, unseating a long-term Monterey Republican, Burt Talcott.

He was joined in 1974 by Norm Mineta of Santa Clara County, and I learned that all three of my South Bay colleagues -- Leon Panetta, Norm Mineta and the distinguished dean of the California Democrats, Don Edwards, had once been Republicans, but had left the party, in large part because of the switch in civil-rights philosophy. (Don Edwards had once been President of California's Young Republicans.)

I muse sometimes that I should have done the same, that Nixon's callous adoption of his "Southern strategy" in 1968, made successful by Thurmond's persuasive impact on enough Southern Republicans get those additional votes at the 1968 convention, may have won the battle, but lost the war to keep the Republican Party the party of Lincoln.

Trent Lott's comment "If we'd elected Strom Thurmond in 1948, we wouldn't have had all these problems over all these years" is an unfortunate commentary for the nation's majority party, which should, simply on principle, seek to continue the painful, long-term battle for equal rights and dignity for blacks and other minorities. Until our nation finally achieves that equality of respect and dignity, we will never fulfill the high principles our political leaders are constantly espousing, nor will we have the inner strength and high principles required to lead the world toward peace under world law.

Strom Thurmond left the Democratic party as a matter of principle in 1948. Unless the Republicans forcefully repudiate Lott in 2003, a lot of us may be forced to consider a similar resignation from the Republican Party, purely as a matter of principle.