Anderson Looks for His Break

"He's the candidate everyone admires and no one takes seriously" a recent "60 Minutes" profile about Rep. John Anderson (R-Ill.) began. Chin resting on his hand, intent on the 19-inch black-and-white screen, Anderson winced a little when he heard that introduction.

But he smiled, too, when the profile focused on his born-again Christianity and slow conversion to liberalism, bolstering his image as an orator, letting him play the part of the "thinking candidate."

Anderson--a very dark horse in a crowded Republican field--knows he can only stay in the game so long, and he understands the fuel one television appearance can add to a smoldering campaign fire. "That smile? I was just making a mental calculation of what 16 minutes of prime time television would cost me," he explains when the program ends. Exposure has been good for Anderson. The nationally aired Iowa Republican debate, Anderson realizes, at least brought his candidacy out of the shadows, if not into the limelight.

During that appearance, Anderson--silver mane bristling with sincerity--looked and sounded like the only moderate in the field. His defense of Republican economic policies but support for more liberal programs like the ERA and federally funded abortions appealed to the disillusioned liberal. "That was the start," New Hampshire aide Bill Touchstone says. "Since then, there have been people flooding in."

Crowds of young volunteers now line up at Anderson Campaign headquarters on South Main Street in Concord, eager to spread the word about the Illinois congressman who hopes to "build a new coalition of disenchanted Democrats, independents and moderate Republicans." And the national press has slowly gravitated toward him--"Why Not the Best" asked The New York Times: in its recognition that he is as likely a candidate as Tennessee Senator Howard Baker.

Anderson knows his issues. Concentrating on the domestic implications of the Afghanistan and Iran incidents, the ten-term Congressman consistently decries American dependence on foreign oil. "We've been literally immobilized by the fear that our oil could be shut off," Anderson--who advocates increased research on solar power--told a suburban Boston audience last week. "A lean, taut budget," one that will require states and cities to "forego for a year or two" some federally funded programs, is Anderson's remedy for an economy stretched thin by inflation.

Some of Anderson's other cures for America's ills have changed since his more conservative stance of little more than a decade ago. His opponents cite his early commitment to the Kemp-Roth bill--which called for a sharp and potentially dangerous cut in personal taxes--and his support throughout the 60s for the Vietnam War as dampers on his appeal. But Anderson supporters are attracted by this man who does not hesitate to admit his mistakes or his frustrations. His vehement opposition to the proposed MX missile, the B-1 bomber and the draft, and his equally vocal support of SALT II and a carefully planned foreign policy have gained him more than a few recruits.

Anderson defends his position on the issues with conviction, but he's almost more anxious to talk about why he's "driven" to run for president. His voice raspy from heavy campaigning, Anderson persists, leaning forward to make his point. "We have to submerge the special interests each of us has--somehow we have to elect an American president who can convince the people of this country of the sacrifice needed to make our system work."

But neither the rhetoric, nor the volunteers, nor the money that has trickled in since the Iowa debate can push Anderson to the ten percent finish he seeks in New Hampshire. In Concord and Manchester, for example, his Republican brethren lined up the party regulars months ago. And in the State's vast rural regions, even the Democrats are conservative.

Instead, Anderson is turning toward Massachusetts, where the Republicans wax more liberal (witness former Gov. Francis Sargent, gubernatorial challenger Francis Hatch, and former Sen. Edward Brooke), and where there are plenty of independents who may subscribe to Anderson's new political blend. He has also canvassed heavily on the state's college campuses--another reason he might finish a respectable third, and perhaps even second, in the state's GOP primary.

Ted Kennedy's performance in the New Hampshire primary may prove crucial to the Anderson campaign. If Kennedy fares well to the north, Massachusetts independents may desert Anderson and return to the Bay State senator's fold; if the Kennedy ship seems to be sinking, many supporters may rally to Anderson.

A resurgence of Kennedy magnetism is not Anderson's only worry in Massachusetts, however. Many of the residents of Boston's "silk-stocking suburbs" caught on to his campaign too late switch their registration to independent. And Anderson's organization is Johnny-come-lately compared to the corporate headquarters and pin-stripped staffers his Republican challengers command. Yet Anderson remains hopeful. "The conventional wisdom is that you can't mount a spontaneous political movement. We're going to challenge that," he says.

But hope doesn't win elections, and Anderson must break through somewhere, and soon. Anderson is aiming to melt the party lines into the coalition that he needs. If not, he'll wear the "likable loser" back to Rockford, Illinois, before the winter turns to spring.