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In the last act, the lines spoken loudest continued to be less than entertaining and far short of enlightening. Nixon started the week in Albany, N.Y., by decrying personal invective. Later, in Pennsylvania and Michigan, he called the Democrats "that scruffy bunch" and a "disorganized rabble not to be trusted with the new leadership." In Humphrey's Minnesota, he called the Vice President "a man who has been trained to say yes" and one "who has trotted meekly along behind his master." Though some of his darts were aimed at creditable targets, Nixon's overstated attacks, as during the previous week, encouraged the belief that he was losing his composure at last. When, on a network television program, he accused the New York Times of "gutter politics" for an editorial questioning Spiro Agnew's ethics, he not only seemed to protest too much but actually gave the Times's critique far wider currency than it would otherwise have had (the editorial appeared originally on a Saturday, when circulation is low, and editorial page readership is even lower). In Syracuse, on the other hand, Nixon remained very much in control of himself and the situation when he encountered the best-organized heckling he has yet seen on the road. Taking a cue from Ed Muskie, he let his opponents have their say but got the last word in himself.
Crescendo. Humphrey was getting in his own licks as well. "The fundamental issue," he declared, "is the issue of trust." Free translation: How can anyone trust Dick Nixon? In Ohio he called Nixon "one of the military-industrial-complex men who has little regard for peace." Later, he accused his adversary of being the "Number One doubletalker of all time." Both men implored their followers to "sock it to 'em," a phrase that sounded particularly ludicrous coming from middle-aged politicians of national stature.
Far more disturbing was the manner in which the campaign grew ever less informative and ever less statesmanlike down to the final hours. Humphrey concentrated almost entirely on Nixon's ambivalence on the major issues and on Agnew's gaffes. The Nixon organization aired a commercial that interspersed shots of a grinning Humphrey among scenes depicting poverty, war and riots. The commercial was withdrawn from network use after only one showing, but later it was shown by at least one local station.
Beyond the old-fashioned slugging, Nixon and Humphrey reserved their heaviest efforts for television. Both sides planned a crescendo of commercials and broadcast exposure for the candidates during the last two days before the vote. The expenditure of millions for radio and TV time up to the last possible moment was probably wise tactics. It was the kind of campaign in which many voters withheld a final decision until actually confronted with the ballot.