Reborn in New Hampshire, he looks to more gains in the South
He is that crinkly and blandly familiar face from scores of old movies on afternoon TV, that two-time loser for the Republican presidential nomination who has not been elected to any public office for a decade. Ronald Reagan, 69, seemed so complacent and venerable a Republican front runner that he hardly campaigned at all in Iowa, and his jarring defeat there at the hands of peppy, preppy George Bush, 55, prompted many of his followers to wonder whether he could ever make a comeback. The most reliable public polls on the eve of the New Hampshire primary rated him no more than neck and neck with the onrushing Bush. Even veteran Republican politicians shrugged off any prospect of a major Reagan victory. "If that happens," said Gordon Nelson, G.O.P. chairman in neighboring Massachusetts, "I'm the Easter bunny."
Last week it was Easter in February, and Nelson may have felt long, floppy ears growing out of his head. For when the votes were counted in New Hampshire Tuesday night, Reagan had turned the Republican race upside down—again. He did not just win in what had been billed as a neck-and-neck contest; he swamped Bush by more than 2 to 1, and with 50% of the ballots, collected as many votes as his six
G.O.P. rivals combined. By so doing, Reagan clearly re-established himself as the Republican front runner, the big man to beat from now to the Detroit nominating convention in July.
Being in front is a happy but hazardous position in what is shaping up as the G.O.P. rivals combined.* By so doing, Reagan clearly re-established himself as the Republican front runner, the big man to beat from now to the Detroit nominating convention in July.
Being in front is a happy but hazardous position in what is shaping up as the most volatile G.O.P. primary campaign since the Goldwater-Rocke-feller-Scranton battles of 1964. The race, as well as the frame of mind of the voting public, is not only volatile but deceptive. "In primaries you never know what the voters mean," said raspy-voiced, chainsmoking Gerald Carmen, Reagan's shrewd coordinator in New Hampshire. "Are they just looking, just talking, just thinking?" Reagan himself had a euphoric answer. "I don't know about the hierarchy and the upper regions; I know about the people," he told cheering followers at a motel in Manchester the night of the big victory. "Now Nancy and I are flying over to Vermont [to campaign for the March 4 primary], and we won't need an airplane." Ecstatic Reagan staffers were telling jokes at the expense of the fallen George Bush. Sample: "Question: Why does Bush carry a turkey under his arm? Answer: For spare parts."