It was a helluva convention. It will be a helluva campaign. Moreover, it will matter, for it will give the nation a clear-cut choice between opposing economic and social policies that will influence America's course for decades. The Republican Party came away with one more, possibly last chance to sell its programs to the country and avoid a later, fatal schism or the danger of fading into insignificance.
Certainly it was the most dramatic convention since the Republicans in 1952 chose Dwight Eisenhower over Robert Taft; indeed it was one of the most fascinating conventions of this century. As the G.O.P. assembled in Kansas City, a sitting President, albeit appointed as a result of Watergate, was facing revolt from the faithful in his own party. The battle was ideologically murky, for Gerald Ford and Challenger Ronald Reagan are both basically conservatives. In the damp Midwestern summer heat, Ford pleaded for support with a steady stream of delegates. He finally won this brawl on the precipice by a painfully close 1,187 to 1,070 votes. But even after that outcome was clear, nobody was certain how the conservative fundamentalists would take their hero's defeat and how enthusiastically they would back the President in the election.
Then, on the final night, the President in his acceptance speech performed at his strongest, appeasing much of the party's inner anger and directing its passions toward the fight against the Democrats. It was the best speech Jerry Ford ever made. He seemed transformed—vigorous, authoritative. He brought even the diehard Reaganites in the Texas delegation to their feet. For the first time, the hall previously turbulent with divisive cheerleading resounded in a unison of "We want Ford!"
The speech changed the atmosphere; but it would take much more than one platform triumph to turn the party around. The Republicans are still racked by divisions and face a tough, intelligent opponent, Jimmy Carter, who has come out of rural Georgia to lead a revitalized Democratic Party. While the Democrats were flaunting their new faces, the Republicans at the convention almost symbolically paraded such figures of yesteryear as Alf Landon, 88, and Barry Goldwater, 67, the badly defeated presidential candidates of 1936 and 1964. (Another face from the past, Movie Star Gary Grant, 72, made a relentlessly cute appearance to introduce Betty Ford.)
The fractious Republican Party faces a twofold dilemma: How can it reach out to the independents and Democrats it needs and still keep its own restive conservatives, who control so much of the party's machinery? Given the political realities, odds are heavily against the Republicans in November. But Ford does have a fighting chance, and the Democratic strategists know that Carter is no shoo-in.