'It Doesn't Stop in the Living Room'

I am driving north on Rte. 93 out of Boston, pushing the accelerator to the floor and trying not to lose the maroon Fairmont station wagon. There is a bumper sticker in the middle of the rear window of the Fairmont--"Paul Tsongas, U.S. Senate." In the car is Cecil Andrus, former governor of Idaho and current Secretary of the Interior, who has come to Massachusetts to endorse Tsongas. They have traded compliments about their concern for energy and the environment. Tsongas' driver is doing a steady 75. "As a member of the Select Ad-Hoc Committee on Energy, [Paul] introduced two successful amendments to the National Energy Act requiring conservation studies to reduce gas consumption..."

We pull into Lowell Center, the heart of Tsongas' Congressional district of four years. The Lowell dignitaries are gathered at the headquarters for the National Urban Park. It's not really a park but a city. This is Tsongas' baby--the reconstruction of decaying urban areas. Andrus has come to see how $40 million of federal funds is being spent.

There is a difference in styles--Tsongas knows what is going on. In the car, he is pointing out the sites to Andrus. On the walking tour, it is Tsongas who knows who lives where, who is remodeling what building and how much is being spent on the canal. He gives the entourage directions to the fundraiser. This is to be expected, of course, but it is very much his attitude. Slightly anxious, always looking like he's ready to run and always: "Let's talk about the facts." Tsongas had done his homework.

He walks through Lowell and people stop him on the street, wave at him from their cars--he knows their names. Our group crosses a footbridge and is slowed down by a guest appearance. There is a little girl, Texas-blond and puppy-dog eyes. Melanie Ann Brockington is the national poster child for the 1979 March of Dimes. "Although Melanie is paralyzed from the waist down, she walks well with the aid of leg braces and crutches. Like many girls of her age--eight--Melanie is a lively, independent youngster who enjoys dancing, playing with her numerous friends, reading and listening to Shaun Cassidy albums."

The photographers egg the Secretary and would be Senator on. Andrus and Tsongas sit on their heels and say hi to Melanie. The photographer motion Tsongas to squat more, to get in the picture. They trade autographs--Melanie draws a big heart and writes I LOVE Paul underneath it. Tsongas signs something for her. He looks at his autograph and asks her to write some more, to add the names "Ashley" and "Katina" after "Paul." His aides motion him that it is time to move on but. Tsongas is patient--A-S-H-L-E-Y...K-A-T-I-N-A. His two kids. Always the family man, Paul Tsongas is young and energetic and happily married. He is 37 years old and running strong.

***

"Okay, now, what am I supposed to do here? Is that the high school over there? When do I come in? At the intermission, oh, that's okay." We are standing in a parking lot somewhere in Brockton, Mass. Across the highway is a large concrete, metal and glass structure, "the largest high school in the state," we are told. There are seven of us--one reporter, one photographer, one driver, one advance woman, two campaign workers and one Senator. Ed Brooke pins a carnation on a campaign worker he's never met and looks confused.

We drive across the street. There are two people holding "Hatch-Cowin" posters outside the high school auditorium. They don't seem to recognize Brooke. He stops, tells them how nice it is to see them and climbs the stairs. Inside, the advance woman is pacing nervously. There are two men and three pimply teenagers in light blue tuxedos with too-red-to-be-real roses pinned to their lapels. A sign outside the auditorium reads, "The First Annual Ms. Senior Sweetheart Pageant." No kidding--a senior citizens' beauty contest. Anything for a vote.

Brooke is still shaking hands when the emcee announces his presence. He is hustled through the auditorium door, led down the aisle and runs up on the stage. The crowd--1300 strong and over 65--applauds more than politely for the junior senator from Massachusetts. Brooke grasps the microphone, looking knowingly into the crowd. "I certainly want to express my appreciation to the..." He looks down at the program he has been handed. "...Whitman Bank and to all who had anything to do with bringing this about."

"First, let me assure you that I am not a contestant." There is strained laughter. Brooke, a man famous for his sexual magnetism among other things, looks old--the last few months, the day-to-day campaign trail routine, haven't helped his appearance. The makeup he wears when campaigning smears the knot of his paisley tie and the collar of his striped shirt.

"This is the sort of thing that really warms my heart because it brings joy into so many lives." Brooke is staring at his shoes.

He touches on inflation and the plight of the senior citizen. "One thing I think that we all fear as senior citizens--and I'm well on my way there, I was 59 last week, is what my mother has always said to me, 'Don't put me away,' and I know what she means--we should avoid institutionalization of senior citizens."

Brooke closes to an ovation that might have been standing if the crowd had the energy to make it to its feet. The emcee rushes over to shake his hand. Brooke leans back into the audience on his way out. The old women clamber around him, groping to touch the hand of a former National Senior Citizens Council "Man of the Year." By the end of the day, Brooke will have kissed over 100 women. But he is no longer the young maverick from Massachusetts. You can see it in his eyes. Ed Brooke is growing old and running scared.

***

"Frustrated by the inactivity of the Senate Ethics Committee, and deeply disturbed by the public's lack of confidence in the Congress, Senator Ed Brooke introduced in January of 1977 the first comprehensive Ethics Committee Reform Package. He fought in committee, in conferences and on the floor of the Senate for resolutions to reform the Ethics Committee, to require full financial disclosure for all Senators, and the establishment of a Senate Code of Ethics. Result: The Senate now has a Code of Ethics."

From "The Record," Brooke Campaign Literature

If you asked anybody in Massachusetts two years ago what the most significant thing about Sen. Edward W. Brooke was, they'd probably mention that he is the only black in the Senate. Ask anybody that question today and they'll start in on "that thing with his wife and kids" or "something about his finances." Ed Brooke's record, the very one his campaign workers are anxious to point to, has come back to haunt him.

Ed Brooke is running against Ed Brooke for reelection. This is about the only thing that can be stated confidently about this year's race for Senate in Massachusetts. Sure, Paul Tsongas is running a good campaign based on a fairly strong liberal record. Sure, he is a good-looking, energetic fresh face. But "If it weren't for the private life thing--and by that I mean the money, not the family stuff--I think Brooke would be a sure bet," William Schneider, associate professor of Government, explains. Forty-nine per cent of the people questioned recently in a Massachusetts poll feel that Brooke "has not been honest and above-board in his personal affairs." A mere two per cent say the same for Tsongas. Says fellow Rep. Michael J. Harrington '58, "Tsongas is accessible, humble, sincere, unassuming, but there is an inner strngth there...To the extent that integrity in government is the underlying political issue, Paul Tsongas is the answer." Mr. Clean runs for Senate.

It's useless, almost futile to try to detail the charges levied against Brooke. "It has been one crisis after another," he says. "I don't blame anybody for it perhaps other than myself or, I can't blame my family, I don't want to put the blame on them, but what I'm saying is, that I wouldn't have been able to survive this if I didn't believe myself, within myself, and known within myself that I had done nothing wrong. And I think ultimately that's all going to come out." It is an unproven, almost hesitant defense. The jury is still out on Brooke's conduct but the effects have already been felt. Talk-show host Avi Nelson came within four percentage points of unseating Brooke in the race for Republican nomination this fall. And Tsongas, most polls indicate, is running between three and seven points ahead of the incumbent.

What Brooke's campaign is trying to do, meanwhile, is to separate its candidate's public and private lives. Ed Brooke is running on his record, "a record of 12 years of distinguished representation in the Senate." But when Brooke strays from discussing concrete issues--as is his wont--he tries almost to disassociate his name and all that it now implies from the race. He speaks of an ongoing struggle, of the multitudes of Ed Brookes that will arise in the future and of a greater mission. He has tried to match his issue stands with his own identity but simultaneously separate his candidacy from his name. To the extent that Brooke's people succeed, they may be able to salvage what looks to be a slowly sinking ship. If nothing else, this election is a lesson, an education, in private vs. public affairs. Just what part of a public official's private life do you feel ought not to be considered? Brooke is asked. "I don't know how far it goes; what room it stops at," he says. "It certainly doesn't stop in the living room."

***

Ed Brooke is in good company. There are 1500 people in the Sheraton-Boston ballroom for the annual awards dinner of the Boston chapter of the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People. Someone has screwed up in the scheduling. Brooke can only stay to deliver a five minute address.

"I have always been proud of the NAACP. I never rose above vice-president, I never became President of the Boston chapter of this great organization, but I've always been proud of my life membership in it and proud of what it has meant to black people and to white people who believe in the cause of equal justice in this country. I love the Urban League and I love all other organizations, but let us never forget that the real organization that has stood for equal justice for our people is the NAACP."

"The theme of your meeting is 'til victory is won.' I know it has nothing to do with me, it has to do with something much more important that Ed Brooke or any individual. I subscribe to that theme. I've dedicated most of my life to that and all of you here have done the same. And I'm so honored when I look and see," Brooke eyes the cover for the evening's program, "William E. DuBois, I guess that's Frederick Douglass--my eyes are getting older now--I guess that other picture is me but I don't know if I deserve to be there." He glances at the fourth sketch on the cover.

"But I know that little girl deserves to be there. I hope you've looked at that little girl. That's what we're fighting for--the future of that little girl and that little boy for generations and generations to come. Our victory will be won and God give us strength to make it soon." There is a photo of a small black child gazing off into the future on the cover of Brooke's latest literature. There is a fuzzy "Brooke, U.S. Senate" sign in the background.

Ed Brooke doesn't talk much about being black. "The very hardest kind of opponent for a black candidate," Thomas Pettigrew, professor of Social Psychology and Sociology, observes, "is a liberal white who is careful not to bring any racism into the campaign." Pettigrew, a one-time Brooke advisor, says the Senator runs relatively non-racial campaigns--he's not comfortable with the role of "the black Senator" that has been thrust upon him. Only when he fell sharply in the polls in his race against Peabody in 1966 did he give a talk about "being black--it wasn't blatant but the liberals loved it," says Pettigrew, "they gave him a standing ovation and almost carried him off on their shoulders."

But if Brooke doesn't talk about himself being black, his campaign staff isn't about to let any potential vote-getting appeal go to waste. So in they've come to Massachusetts this fall, to endorse Ed Brooke, campaign for Ed Brooke and identify Ed Brooke as the leading black politician in the country. Coretta King and Rev. Jesse Jackson have been here, State Rep. Barney Frank' endorsed Brooke, and State Rep. Saundra Graham has sacrificed her own campaign to stump for Brooke. Tsongas has countered, bringing black and women leaders into the state on his own behalf. It's not that the black vote in Massachusetts has historically been anything to write home about--just that some feel it could be. It's the one factor that can balance the private life issue, says Pettigrew, and draw white liberals into the Brooke camp.

***

In their second televised debate, Paul Tsongas complained about the Brooke campaign literature that claimed he had not been present for the vote to extend the ratification deadline for the Equal Rights Amendment. Tsongas insisted he was there, for two of the final four ballots. "This kind of literature and those kind of statements have no place in politics," Tsongas said, "I'm disappointed when this kind of thing comes out, especially when my literature is all positive." Says Brooke, "I'm not going to attack Paul Tsongas, and I never have and I never will." This is the extent of personal controversy in the campaign. While Edward J. King and Francis W. Hatch '46 have been slinging just about as much mud as they can scoop up, such attacks have been left out of the Senate race.

Both camps insist that they are running "issue campaigns," "We are running on the Senator's 12-year record," says a close advisor to Brooke. "We are running on what he is and what he has done." The Tsongas camp, most noticeably its candidate, has never strayed from talking about the issues. Tsongas quotes details, at embarrassing length, always returning to hammer home his issue stands. If it weren't for the private life issue, this election might well have been written off as boring in Massachusetts. Voters, the polls show, see no substantive differences in issue stands between the two candidates.

"Some conservatives," the Boston Globe has editorialized, "will not be overjoyed with the Brooke-Tsongas senate choice." Brooke is a well-known fighter for fair housing, aid to the elderly, women's rights (funds for poor women to have abortions, ERA) and civil liberties. In 1977, Tsongas received a 100 per cent rating from the Americans for Democratic Action. His strong points are energy, the environment, urban reconstruction and African affairs.

Aside from Brooke's support of the recent tax bill, which Tsongas calls one of the worst ever to come through the Congress because its benefits are directed at the upper-income people, the biggest split seems to come over military and foreign affairs. Spurred on by Avi Nelson's right-wing challenge in the primary, Brooke reaffirmed his support for increased defense spending. He has criticized the administration for continuing with the Strategic Arms Limitations Talks (SALT) without obtaining further concessions from the Soviets. Tsongas, on the other hand, is a full supporter of SALT, an opponent of the B-1 bomber. He has voted against every major increase in defense spending since he first took office. And now that Brooke's challenge comes from the left, the Senator has waffled over the neutron bomb.

Brooke says the race comes down to a "difference in effectiveness." Brooke is the ranking Republican on several Senate committees and a nationally recognized black leader. Tsongas, in his four years in the Congress, has proven that he is capable of bringing home the bacon. But if elected, he'll be the new man on the block. Balance that against Brooke's marital and financial problems and you've got a race that some say is too close to call.

***

It's not a good year for incumbents. Senators Percy, Hathaway, Haskell, and Clark are all running for their liberal lives. Ed Brooke is running too. Up the stairs in the Hampshire House Restaurant in Boston to a fundraiser. Gloria Steinem and Coretta King are there, lauding the role Brooke has played in the struggle for women's rights. It is a partisan crowd and Brooke looks pleased. He has trouble moving through the crowd to get to the door. There is nothing but praise.

Praise is all that Cecil Andrus has for Paul Tsongas at the Chart House Restaurant in Boston. There's Brooke's challenger--navy blue suits, white shirt and conservative tie. He rocks on his feet nervously. When he talks, he tries to joke at times, tries to convince people that he deserves to be Senator. He's tired of being a representative and is an ambitious young man. On the wall behind Tsongas is an old World War II poster. "Victory," it reads, "is a question of Stamina." You can see it in his eyes.CrimsonP.J. Balshi