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When he appeared in Washington in September, a reporter who had long known Ted found him visibly older, somewhat slow of step, the grey flecks at his temples more apparent. His waist has begun to thicken. He still wears a brace as a result of the broken back suffered in a 1964 plane crash. His future? "I'm just feeling my way," he said then, "day by day." He did some limited campaigning for Hubert Humphrey. He starred at a couple of fundraisers to offset the $3.5 million deficit left from Robert's presidential primary campaign. Gradually his humor and sprightliness returned. But in front of the fireplace in his new home in Virginia, into which he moved with his wife Joan and their three children last March, he appeared distant and dreamy when the subject of his future came up. Frequently, the talk centered on the Senate and his role in it. He was generally pleased with his performance so far, he told one friend. But: "I want to establish more of a record." In the wake of Humphrey's defeat, the inevitable White House talk came to haunt him. Repeatedly, he had to say: "I have no timetable."
Timetables are, of course, frequently made by others. No speculation about 1972 omits Kennedy's name. Almost any political act on his part can be interpreted as self-aggrandizement. When two young Manhattan career girls started Help Organize People Early and sent out thousands of Ted-boosting buttons, he disowned their effort. Still, he has not repudiated family tradition—and apparently cannot. It is hard under the circumstances to forget J.F.K.'s remark, delivered somewhat humorously: "I came into politics in my brother Joe's place. If anything happens to me, Bobby will take my place, and if Bobby goes, we have Teddy coming along."
Rocking the Boat
No Kennedy brother could conceivably remove himself from national politics and presidential speculation. Ted had no intention of renouncing public life. By December, he was ready to return to his career. By then, he was also eager to discuss the 91st Congress and his role in it. "This was the first interlude," he said later. "I had been so involved with the memorial and with the fund-raising dinners. But obviously it was time to begin thinking about next year." It was also time, as one aide put it, "for him to become more than just the 'nice' Kennedy."
Who would speak for the party in the Senate? If no one violated the unwritten rule ("Rock not the boat, lest the boat be rocked when you have hold of the tiller"), the Senate Democratic leadership would consist of well-liked, if rather bland Majority Leader Mike Mansfield and three conservatives: Long, Georgia's Richard Russell, who was to be named president pro tempore, and West Virginia's Robert Byrd, who was to be retained as chairman of the Democratic Conference. Of the four, only Long was vulnerable.