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Thomas Edmund Dewey. Unaccustomed as the U. S. is to youth in the White House (youngest President: Theodore Roosevelt, 42 ; average inaugural age, 54), last week many a citizen at last faced the possibility that 38-year-old District Attorney Dewey might actually be come President (see p. 18).
Robert Alphonso Taft. Months ago (TIME, Dec. 18), the U. S. settled back to enjoy the Adventures of Robert in Bumbledom, decided that one of Mr. Taft's most attractive qualities was his knack of apparently muffing things. Industrious, hopeful, comfortable, the Dagwood Bumstead of American politics, Ohio's 50-year-old Senator was unprofessional, artless, refreshingly without a workable cure-all for every ill. By last week he had already rounded up more delegates than "Buster" Dewey will have at convention time, even if Mr. Dewey sweeps every primary in sight.
Joseph Martin. The leathery little pub lisher of North Attleboro, Mass., his heart long set on the Speakership of the House, last week was still an ideal compromise candidate. Able, shrewd, plain as an old shoe, Joe Martin, 55, is obviously a clearheaded, sobergoing New Englander, as familiar as apples and Biblical proverbs, a man who would bring honest humility to the White House.
Fiorello Henry LaGuardia. The 103rd Mayor of New York City (second tough est political job in the U. S.) is the greatest paradox of all the leaders. Thought of as an utter New Yorker, the duck-bottomed Little Flower spent his years from three to 20 in South Dakota, Arizona, Florida, is as Western as Nebraska's Norris, Wisconsin's La Follettes, Idaho's Borah. He talks the most direct American language of any leader, speaks Italian, German, Croatian, Yiddish, French, Spanish. Short, rubbery, unmilitary, he is a U. S. Army Air Corps major and a veteran who has actually seen fighting. Denounced all his political life as a radical, his businesslike administration has won the favor of New York City bankers; one of the slickest natural politicians in the country, he has no party, no machine, but rates as a New Dealer in many respects, and is still only 57.
John Nance Garner. Cactus Jack is 71, sound in wind & limb, a hickory conservative who does not represent the Old South of magnolias, hoopskirts, pillared verandas, but the New South: moneymaking, industrial, hardboiled, still expanding too rapidly to brood over social problems. He stands for oil derricks, sheriffs who use airplanes, prairie skyscrapers, mechanized farms, $100 Stetson hats. Conservative John Garner appeals to many a conservative voter.
Charles Linza McNary. Slim, weary-faced, 65, the great Republican strategist is Oregon's Senator McNary, serpent-wise in politics, beloved of U. S. farmers and of connoisseurs of political wisdom. Wanting no higher office, liberal Leader McNary 'would satisfy more than Republican voters; in fact, is one of the few G. O. Possibilities whose nomination would automatically attract otherwise safely Democratic votes.