(See Cover)
On his farm in Platte County, Mo., a friend of Estes Kefauver sat musing about why he likes the Senator from Tennessee. "I think," said Missouri's cattle-raising Democratic Representative William Hull Jr., "that he is the type of fellow who, if he was out campaigning and came across a farmer pitching manure, would take off his coat, grab another pitchfork and start to work." This week, pitchfork in hand, Vice-Presidential Nominee Kefauver was all set to start work on the key part of his Democratic campaign job: winning votes for his ticket in the twelve-state Midwestern farm area with a soft pitch of faith, hope and parity.
Although Estes Kefauver's appeal is not limited to the farm country, it is there that he has proven his credentials: in 1952 and 1956 he entered a total of ten Midwestern presidential primaries, came out of them undefeated, and, in Minnesota last March, very nearly closed the barn door on Adlai Stevenson. It is his appeal to farmers that best explains Kefauver's vote-pulling powers wherever they exist. Many another Democratic politician can point to a farm record as staunch and steady as Kefauver's; Kefauver himself is almost inarticulate in expressing his policies. When asked precisely what he stands for, he is likely to hesitate, ponder painfully, and finally come up with some such phrase as "a place in the sun for the farmer," or "the best interests of the plain people of this nation," or "an even break for the average man." But the Midwestern farmer cares much less about what Kefauver stands for than about how he looks and acts.
Goodness Is As Goodness Does. Estes Kefauver, 53, looks and acts like a hulking (6 ft. 3 in., 220 lbs.), humble, approachable, kindly man. Says Minnesota Farmers Union President Ed Christianson: "It's because of his personality and the way he presents things to us. It's his speech and his manner.'' Explains Kansas Wheat Farmer Jerry Risely: "I met him in a restaurant and had a chance to talk to him. I thought he had something about him—that his words carried tremendous importance." Adds Minnesota Cattle Raiser Norman Hanson: "Stevenson doesn't come down to where the farmers are. Kefauver does."
It is because of his ability—and Stevenson's comparative inability—to project a just-plain-folks personality that Kefauver, the professionally common man, is of uncommon value to the Democratic ticket. He stands high with labor (A.F.L.-C.I.O. Vice President Walter Reuther was one of his boosters for the vice-presidential nomination). Two presidential primaries showed clearly how the New Hampshire housewife felt about Kefauver. Professional Southern politicians dislike him intensely—but even they admit that Southern voters by the thousands are likely to fall hard for Kefauver's poor-mouthed Southern drawl.
To exploit Kefauver's appeal, he is being given equal, if hyphenated, billing on Stevenson-Kefauver campaign posters, and party strategists plan to let him have more campaign money than any previous vice-presidential candidate. It should be money well spent. Said a correspondent traveling with Kefauver: "He's the single strongest asset Stevenson's got."