The Kennedy Men_ 1901-1963 - Laurence Leamer [275]
Humphrey’s people had already paid Chafin $2,000 to have the Minnesotan’s name on the slate card, and now Jack had royally trumped him. Humphrey spent $25,000 on his entire West Virginia campaign, $10,000 less than the amount in the two briefcases. Both candidates were playing the only game of politics played in West Virginia, but Humphrey was playing with a few copper pennies and Jack with bars of gold.
Chafin said that he used the money “mostly hiring people, drivers and poll workers, babysitters, people like that.” The Kennedys’ largess was so extravagant, so heedless of true election costs, it was likely that in many instances the money was pocketed.
The 1960 West Virginia primary was the harbinger of the modern political era, not simply in the massive amounts of money the Kennedy campaign spent per voter but in the organization, the use of television, the shrewd meshing of celebrity and politics, and the essentially negative nature of much of both candidates’ campaigns. James McCahey Jr., a Chicago businessman with West Virginia roots, organized teachers and other volunteers to create a grass-roots movement for Jack.
The campaign bought television time to put out documentary-like programming that concluded that Jack was the better candidate. Other Kennedys came to West Virginia, not only to sit in the capital of Charleston for photo ops, but also to go up the rutted country roads and knock on doors and to shake hands in crossroads stores. Jackie did not go out on the hustings, but her mere presence was a revelation. Humphrey’s wife, Muriel, could have been one of these local ladies, but the West Virginians sidled past her to gaze awestruck at the aristocratic beauty who had graced their modest environs. “They had a wondrous look in their eyes when they saw her,” said Charles Peters, then a campaign leader in the state.
If Jackie brought grace and beauty to the campaign, Bobby brought the mailed fist. For him, life was simple. All that mattered was that Jack win, and anyone and anything that did not lead to that goal was rudely shoved aside. When the two candidates staged their television debate, the Minnesota senator was bested in the one field in which he thought he should have been the hands-down winner. Humphrey was not much of a drinker, but at the Charleston Press Club, in his dismayed disbelief, he lifted more than a few. “Bobby, I made your brother look good tonight.” Humphrey said, coming up to the Kennedy group. “I’ll be the first to admit he won that debate tonight. And who knows? Maybe I made him president of the United States tonight. But I’ve still got to campaign against you in Wheeling tomorrow morning, and I’ve spent so much time, I’ve missed the plane to Wheeling. How about letting me have the Caroline to whistle me over to Wheeling?”
Bobby gave Jack’s opponent an answer that was as profane as it was immediate. The other men were all Kennedy partisans too, but they respected Humphrey and were embarrassed by Bobby’s crude invective. “Well, Senator, I flew out here with Bruce Sundlun, and we’re flying back with him, and he’s sitting over there,” said Kenny O’Donnell, who wasn’t afraid of a Bobby who had sat on the bench when Kenny had quarterbacked the Harvard team. “Why don’t you go ask him if he’ll take you over? And if he can, I’m sure we don’t mind … dropping you off.”
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