"Softshoe and Cigars"

Fifteen years ago, California politics was floating through an era of constructive good feeling. Governor Earl Warren had spread his bipartisan patrimony over every policial faction, and candidates ran for office with genteel good humor, eschewing debate for folksy celebrations of the sun, surf, and oranges.

This blissful nonchalance has now evaporated, and election campaigns have developed into bitter crusades to save the state's political soul. California now claims more inhabitants and wealth than any other state, and the incredible population influx has uprooted political traditions and machinery as ruthlessly as it has the landscape, Into the void have flowed numberless partisan cults, from the Birchism of range Country to the Negro Communism of the Los Angeles ghetto.

California elections cannot be understood, however, soley by analyzing the state's ideological schizophrenia. A recent poll showed that the issue most interesting to Californians is "getting enough drinking water," not exactly the response of an ideologically torn citizenry. The state's political soul is troubled, but not by "issues" in the common sense of the term. The malaise is, rather, genuinely spiritual.

Most of Californi's inhabitants have emigrated recently from the midwest and border states. These new citizens face the disturbing task of synthesizing the family-orientated, conservative moralism of their hometowns with the sun-seeking hedonism of a state still entranced with the glamorous legends of Hollywood. the synthesis has not yet been made, and beneath the pastel tranquillity of the California Suburbia the struggle between the two ways of life continues.

This struggle bears directly on the Senate race between Pierre Salinger and George Murphy. Murphy exemplifies the Midwestern ethic. Instead of addressing rallies, he discusses the campaign with small crowds in a subdued homey manner. In these little talks, the ex-song-and-dance man dispels the more frivolous connotations of his past by recounting his efforts to rid the entertainment industry of communist influences. His long association with right-wing crusades has garnered Murphy support from the Goldwater wing of the party, which includes most of the GOP's fundraisers and nearly all of its grassroots workers. Conversely, though he endorse Goldwater, Murphy has endeared himself to the party's foundering moderate wing by praising the new Civil Rights Law.

If Murphy's soft-spoken non-style plays upon the state's nostalgia for Midwestern conventionalism, the energetic campaign of Senator Salinger exploits California's love of audacious good fun. Each day Plucky Pierre crisscrosses the state by helicopter, dropping dramatically out of the smog to embrace an ever-present bevy of giggling Salinger Girls. Waving an outrageously gnawed cigar to the crowd and patting his portly frame, Pierre turns every stop into a garnish tongue-cheek extravaganza.

When the Senator speaks formally, however, he leaves humor behind for a sober, gravel-voiced attack on the issues, pumping up the rhetoric with his right arm in the style of the late President. He runs primarily against Goldwater, calling upon Murphy to repudiate the Arizonan's positions on medicare, labor-management relations, and nuclear control. Named to the seat of the late Senator Claire Engle, Salinger will be listed as the incumbent on the November ballot. He hopes this will dissipate the image of carpetbagging, which has, since RFK plnged into New York politics, cur Salinger's lead in the polls from 65 to 55 per cent. Salinger also enjoys the advantage of California's 3 to 2 Democratic edge in voter registration. The registration figures are, however, deceptive, since many conservative and moderate Democrats regularly cross party lines.

Despite its earnest rhetoric, most Californians regard the Senate race as little more than an entertaining spectator sport. Their real interest is engaged not by candidates but by a law, the blandly titled Rumford Fairhousing Act. The Act, passed narrowly last year by the legislature, outlaws racial discrimination in public housing and large private apartments. Opponents of the measure have placed on the ballot an initiative constitutional amendment." Proposition 14 which would not only nullify the Rumford Act and other equal housing ordinances, but would also forbid the legislature to pass such laws again. The State Supreme Court, one of the nation's most liberal, claims that the initiative raises "grave constitutional questions," but refuses to rule on the proposition before the election.

The wealthy California Board of Realtors plans to spend $2 million dollars in support of the proposition. The Goldwater faction of the GOP also backs the measure, though the Senator recently admonished his well-wishers to stay behind the scenes in the controversy. George Murphy takes no stand. The entire Democratic Party opposes the proposition and distributes "No on 14" literature along with its own.

The Proposition's advocates never allude to race, presenting the measure as a "free property issue." The strategy is intelligent, for the sprawling tract-developments of the state's suburbias have made almost every Californian a homeowner. The emphasis on "freedom" has even confused many Negros.

Governor Brown leads the fight against the proposition by warning that its passage will "make this state an ideological satellite of Mississippi and Alabama," and the "No on 14" billboards pound away at the state's conscience. The slashing message "Don't Legalize Hate" is juxtaposed against sketches of Lincoln and Kennedy.

At present the proposition seems assured of victory, recent polls indicating a 60-40 vote. The concerted Democratic Party effort is shaving that margin, but not quickly enough. Only two realistic questions remain: (1)when the State Court eventually throw out the measure? (2) Will the "Yes on 14" vote drag Salinger and other Democratic candidates to defeat?