Campaigner Volpe--Diminutive Dynamo

"Amazing," whistled the candy plant owner, "simply amazing. Five weeks ago he took two hours to canvass this factory. Today he'll make it in twenty minutes."

At that moment the candidate's boyish face, drawn in a tight smile, appeared amid the tangle of pipes and levers. Pulling fiercely on his broad nose, he hopped over a conveyer belt laden with chocolate drops, strode quickly to a nearby worker, tapped the elderly lady on the shoulder, executed a brisk mannerly bow, brought forward his cupped right hand, grinned very very hard and blurted: "Howaya, howaya. I'm Governor John A. Volpe, Howaya."

Then off he went again, bounding over and around machinery, leaving his staff to wind its listless way through noisy clumps of the newly converted.

Over the past few weeks campaigning has become a labor of love for the diminutive ex-Governor. After three hours of glad-handing, Volpe may announce disgustedly that "you have to be crazy to do this stuff." But he doesn't mean it. Recovering in a few moments, he will clap his hands, tug on his nose, and demand impatiently, "What's next? Come on, come on."

The Volpe campaign caravan has circled through the state since January, spiralling ever closer to Boston. By this week--as he barnstormed through Lawrence, Lowell, Westford, and Malden--Volpe the campaigner had become a distillation of Volpe the man.

Those broad grins fold his face into a mass of wrinkles, reminders that the ex-Governor's life was once hard and impoverished. That penchant for shoulder-slapping and small talk reflect the Babbitt-like boosterism which brought him business success during the Depression. That briskly polite, nearly oriental, bow which introduces each handshake reminds one that Volpe's recent years have been graced with comfort and prestige.

Above all, the campaign style brings home again the ex-Governor's Italian origins. He chatters in the language effortlessly, whether praising the bambinos of a young immigrant mother or joking lustily with a Sicilian metal-worker. This week, as he forayed the factory districts of Lawrence and Lowell, he spouted "cara mia's" with increasing frequency, erasing the forbidding image of Republicanism and becoming just plain "John boy."

Volpe is fanatical about the importance of campaigning, claiming that he lost his re-election bid in 1962 because "I thought being a conscientious Governor was enough. I didn't get out and see the people." The Peabody upset shocked Volpe for he had hoped to contend for the vice-presidency this year as a popular liberal governor. If he loses this time, it won't be because he disdained mixing with the folks.

In January, when Volpe announced for the Republican nomination, he focused his attack on Governor Peabody. It was then an issueless campaign, centered on the unconvincing slogan of "Bring Back Volpe," for the ex-Governor privately admires Peabody for his plans for constitutional reform. The rise of Francis Bellotti, however, has handed Volpe concrete issues, as evidenced by the new Republican campaign posters: "Volpe--A Man You Can Trust" and

At each campaign stop the GOP "Volpe--An Experienced Governor." candidate hammers away at the two "gut" issues of experience and clean government. Bellotti's first office is his present one, the Lieutenant-Governorship, while Volpe has served as Commissioner of Public Works "scandal-free years," he says), Federal Highway Administrator, and of course, Governor. He also boasts years of administrative experience as president of the large building firm he founded, the John A. Volpe Construction Company.

As the Suffolk County grand jury continues to grind out indictments against government officials, Volpe presses hard at the honesty issue. He established the Crime Commission which started the indictment ball rolling. Only one of his appointees as Governor, Warren Giles, was ever indicted, and his name was forced upon Volpe by a balky Governor's Council. The ex-Governor contrasts this record with what he terms "Bellotti's shady dealings." In this way he hopes to exploit the widespread conviction among independent voters that Bellotti's defeat of Peabody represented a victory for the forces of corruption within the Democratic Party.

Volpe feels that the question of state constitutional reform, though a highly sophisticated issue, may decide the election. Having hedged for several months, the ex-Governor has finally come out strongly for House Bill 3000, which would transfer the statutory powers of the Governor's Council to the Governor. A constant hurdle to firm executive leadership, and frequently a den of corruption, the Council has drawn fire from nearly all of the state's independent political organizations. Bellotti, who several years ago advocated abolishing the Council, now says that he "could live with it." This stand may cost him the independent vote which Peabody garnered for the Democrats in 1962.

Last week's Columbus Day parade indicated that Bellotti may also lose much of the typically Democratic Italian vote. The ex-Governor outshone his opponent as they marched together through Boston's East End, a Democratic and Italian stronghold. Many young woman and children chanted "Volpe, Volpe," and a few broke police lines to besiege the GOP candidate with hugs, kisses, and flowers. Later in the week, Volpe also seemed popular with Lawrence's Italian laborers. As one textile worker said, "Both candidates real nice, you know Italian. But I take Volpe, I think, he so nice."

Thirteen Problems

However, the ex-Governor does have problems, at least thirteen of them: Bellotti's 12 children and Goldwater. The "virility issue," as Volpe's aides call it, cannot be met rationally. Everyone in Massachusetts knows about, and feels either sympathy or admiration for, the fatherly ambitions of the Democratic nominee. The issue is one of the great imponderables of the campaign.

The other imponderable, Goldwater can be discussed, and Volpe shows no reluctance to explain his quasi-endorsement of the Senator: "I'll vote for him as the Republican standardbearer. He was not my first or second choice. I disagree with him on civil rights, labor-management relations, and nuclear responsibility. I can only ask the voters to keep the national and state tickets separate."

Many interpretations have been placed on Volpe's decisions to back the national ticket. Some observers have noted that some Republican fund raisers in the state, most prominently Lloyd Waring, support Goldwater wholeheartedly. However, Volpe's stand has probably hurt him financially by alienating some very wealthy liberal Republicans. This week the ex-Governor used these words to ask a Lawrence factory owner for funds: "This Goldwater thing has emptied the coffers. We need your help."

Bellotti has concentrated on the Goldwater issue, calling Volpe "a party to the coalition of reaction." To illustrate the ex-Governor's "inhumanity," the Democratic nominee tells audiences that Volpe refused in 1962 to implment fully the Federal Manpower Retraining Act. The charge, claims Volpe, is groundless since the Act was then just beginning to oper ate: "Bellotti deals in glittering generalities about Goldwater. Just glittering generalities."

Ironically the charge of "glittering generalities" has usually been used by Volpe's opponents. For years he has suffered a reputation for blandness. This image results primarily from newspaper accounts of his speeches and press conferences. The ex-Governor is addicted to the cliche; if separated from the staccato directness of his voice and the energetic briskness of his gestures, his words seem hopelessly commonplace. Wednesday he began an address to the student body of Westport Academy by celebrating "all these bright shining faces of young people wanting to learn how to be good, solid citizens." He continued the string of hackneyed phrases for ten minutes, but the vigor and excitement of his voice triumphed in the end, and the students awarded him a crescendo of sincere applause.

In alertness and enthusiasm, he dwarfs those around him, frequently snapping at his ragged staff to "be more on the ball." His frustration is justified, for he is surrounded by men of little stature and small ambition. This week's factory tours were repeatedly stalled by the forgetfulness of his aides. Outside each plant an absurd litany would ripple through the staff: "Where's the car?...Have you got his coat and hat?...Where in God's name are we?"

Amid this confusion, Volpe would stand silent, angry, and detached. Adoring order, he shows little patience with indecision or vacillation. Each morning, no matter what the circumstances, he attends Mass. Nearly every afternoon he stops the campaign caravan to visit a local priest. At four o'clock every day he insists on drinking a large frappe and reading the Herald-Traveler. His whole life seems one long constitutional, and he lives it not as a mundane routine but as a stoic and invigorating regimen.

Part of that regimen is politics, and it is impossible to conceive of the man returning quietly to civilian life, mellowered by defeat. If he loses his adrenalin will force him to try again