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It is only a few weeks before the Republican National Convention. A trans-Pacific jet lands at Los Angeles International Airport. Henry Cabot Lodge gets out, speeds away to the Palm Desert cottage of his old boss and friend, Dwight Eisenhower. There, before hundreds of newsmen and a battery of television cameras, Ike throws an arm around Lodge, extols his virtues and, without naming Goldwater, declares that what the Republican Party needs is a candidate after his own ideal of "progressive Republicanism." Despite that sendoff, Lodge still insists that he is not seeking the nomination. Rather, he says, he is in the U.S. because "I am Ambassador to Viet Nam, here to try to alert the American people to the situation in the Far East, to its well-known dangers, and also to the chances for victory." On this basis, he appears on scores of television programs, addresses a joint session of the Congress. Meanwhile, the war is stepped up in Viet Nam, and reports of battles won are on the front pages. Delegates begin wavering, then turning to Lodge. The stampede is on—and there can be no doubt about the name of the G.O.P. standardbearer.
A foolish fantasy? Perhaps. But that is one of the most enchanting things about U.S. politics: dreams can and do come true.