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Through the years, Knight had collected a large following of right-wingers who were opposed to the liberal Warren policies and who figured Goodie was their Knight in armor. Goodie rarely discouraged the reactionaries until he became governor. Then he announced: "I guess the state is just going to have to get used to the fact that I'm no Joe McCarthy." In 1948, when Earl Warren was the vice-presidential candidate, Goodie decided his time had come. His dismay on the day after the election was acute. "If you think Tom Dewey and Governor Warren are disappointed," he wailed, "think of me. I had the furniture in the governor's mansion rearranged a dozen times." In 1950 Knight, spurred on by his right-wing supporters, announced that he would run against Warren. But when Warren announced his own candidacy, Goodie prudently withdrew.
"Where Can They Go?" When Goodie's great day arrived at long last, and Earl Warren went off to the U.S. Supreme Court, Californians of liberal persuasian expected a calamity. Reactionaries looked to a period of Garfield normalcy.
Instead, Knight gave California his own version of Warren liberalism. He proved to be a skilled hand at running the legislature, and, in contrast to the austere, disciplined regime of Warren, he installed a happy, relaxed bipartisan staff (five of his ten top aides are registered Democrats). Last year he openly wooed the labor unions with a promise to veto a proposed right-to-work bill. His courtship won the A.F.L.'s endorsement—to the amazement of the Democrats—and after the 1954 election Goodie kept his promise: the bill was stifled quietly in committee. Wealthy ranchers, who had pushed the bill, were furious and frustrated.
"Where can they go?" grinned Lieutenant Governor Harold ("Butch") Powers.
Goodie's biggest fight since becoming governor has been his struggle to save California's "rainy-day fund," a savings account accumulated from wartime surpluses, and which now amounts to some $70 million. Legislators have eagerly sought to tap the fund for vote-getting largesse. In an effort to save the rainy-day fund, Goodie doggedly proposed added taxes on luxuries. Recently, while Knight was attending a funeral, the assembly passed an amendment that would have drained off $40 million from the rainy-day fund. Next day Goodie sprang to action, summoned his key legislators for a dressing-down. The assembly meekly killed the amendment on a motion to reconsider. It took the legislators about three hours to eat their defiance.
The governor walks with a springy step these days. His appetite is big, but between his morning setting-up exercises and the calorie-consciousness of his wife, he has recently trimmed his weight to a muscular 182 Ibs. No longer athletically inclined, Goodie keeps in trim by tap-dancing and shadow-boxing whenever and wherever the fancy strikes him. His blond hair has silvered satisfactorily, and his craggily handsome face is tanned and as well-creased as an heirloom Gladstone bag. Goodie gave up smoking after he got ulcers; instead, he chews up to two packs of Doublemint gum a day. He drinks sparingly, and, like many Californians, he is a health-food addict. One of his favorite beverages: cabbage juice.