WINNERS & LOSERS
As inflatable as balloons—and as easily punctured—political reputations tend to rise dramatically, sink or even collapse at national conventions. Some who rose and some who fell last week:
JOHN CONNALLY, 59, was the most apparent loser. Usually a spellbinder, he hurried through a strangely flat address to an underwhelmed convention. His peroration was so gloomy that he sounded like a Texas Spengler: "How long this civilization, this free society of America will exist, I do not know."
He was scrubbed from vice-presidential consideration in the late rounds, and many moderate Republicans echo George Hinman, a longtime aide to Nelson Rockefeller: "Connally has been shot down. There's no future for him."
Not so, argue many conservatives, who agree with Billy Mounger, vice chairman of the Mississippi delegation. "If he goes out and builds up political lOUs," says Mounger, "he's going to be ready four years from now." Connally does not want to become Ford's campaign manager, which he considers a job for a technician, not a statesman of his stature. Besides, he doubts Ford-Dole can win. Still, Connally will visit nearly 100 congressional districts in 72 days to stump for candidates for Governor and Congress. The same tactic was used successfully in the 1966 election by Richard Nixon, who rose from the bone yard by crisscrossing the country to speak for candidates and build up political credits. Connally's wheeler-dealer image and milk-fund taint, which did much to frustrate his vice-presidential hopes, may well block his presidential ambitions in 1980. But Big John is so tough, resilient and resourceful that no one can count him out for good.
RICHARD SCHWEIKER, 50, Reagan's implausible liberal choice as a running mate, helped the Californian not at all and damaged his own great ambitions to become an important party leader or, one day, President. By eagerly embracing almost all of Reagan's positions and promising to disavow the previous pro-labor stands that had made him a darling of the AFL-CIO, Schweiker came across as an opportunist. He spent most of his time in the campaign vainly trying to explain his complete flipflop.
Schweiker lobbied hard among Pennsylvania's 103 delegates and declared that at least 23 would support Reagan. Only ten did—fewer than had been projected before Schweiker was added to the ticket. When his longtime friend and former campaign manager Drew Lewis resisted Schweiker's pleas to switch to Reagan, Schweiker stormed: "You are keeping me from becoming President of the United States!" Fortunately for him, he does not come up for re-election until 1980, by which time the Pennsylvania AFL-CIO, which contributed to his 1968 and 1974 victories, will have had time to forget and perhaps forgive.