The Atlanta Constitution from Atlanta, Georgia • 21

SUNDAY, JULY 9, 1972 C5r Atlanta latttnel and CONSTITUTION 21 -A LEO AIKMAN REG MURPHY Chb ices in Plastic Hats Making Just-a Small Bill? But So Important demonstrative as the muddy-booted crowds that surged through the White House as a celebration of the common man's ascendancy. Delegates who were In middle-stream, middle-class circumstances have, in fact, had a difficult time getting here. Stringent new rules made delegations be so balanced and betokened that there is a sense of rules, not politics, involved in the convention. EVENTUALLY these rules will have to be relaxed. The idea that an assemblage of easily identified tokens is a political party is an absurdity.

It is the ticket-balancing that the liberals decried in the Eastern states a decade ago before it became fashionable to have a few of For now, though, Miami is filling up with the delegates who will choose the Democratic presidential nominee and then the vice presidential nominee on a token basis. Lincoln said on the eve of one of these conventions, "The taste is in my mouth a little." So is the taste of independence in the mouth of this crowd a little. Before the high drama of this convention is over, though, it probably will relapse somewhat into the tight little clutches of power to be brokered by a handful of kingmakers. Republicans and Democrats alike find that they finally must rely on some leaders to get them out of the tight spots. The vice presidential nomination is way down the line.

By then the kingmakers will have worked most of their magic. Still, the question remains whether the nominee will be Sen. Ted Kennedy or Sen. Walter Mondale, whether it will be Sen. John Pastore or Gov.

Dale Bumpers, it will be maybe some woman whose name if not familiar to the public. That is the fascination of this process. Somewhere the wheel of fortune comes to rest on a man or woman previously unknown to much of America. One observer guesses this time the wheel will be spun by the convention, not by the presidential candidate. another round of catching up will be in order.

THE KEY to this convention, though, is that it is younger, blacker, and probably poorer than most political conventions in the history of American politics. As Abraham Lincoln said so well, "Only events can make a president" But the strangest kinds of coalition politics make a vice presidential candidate. In this convention, the eventual nominee is likely to have to think carefully about choosing a running mate. For this will be a fractious, quicksilver kind of convention. It just might rise up and pick its own vice-presidential candidate.

This is not the kind of convention where the delegates wear silk hats and broadcloth suits as traditional political convention delegates did. This is more of an Andy Jackson kind of crowd, with some big boots and a Cavalier attitude toward some of the niceties. Before the tempers have cooled, this convention may also be as Miami Beach A BLONDE researcher came rushing into the deep hush of the magazine editor's office in New York. "Guess who's the vice-presidential candidate," she demanded. "Harold Stassen, probably, the way this thing's going," the harassed editor said.

"Spiro Agnew," the girl said. "You know, the governor of Maryland." "Omigod, I don't think we even have a file on him," the editor said. For a frantic 36 hours the national magazine scurried around the nation backgrounding Agnew, digging up old pictures, interviewing his associates. From absolute obscurity, he was chosen in 1968 to become Richard Nixon's running mate. 1 A similar decision may be the single biggest news event at this spangly, plastic-hatted, bumper- stickered, Democratic National Convention.

If the vice presidential candidate matches the obscurity of Agnew, then A resident of a $150,000 house failed to pay for the Sunday paper for two years, denied the validity of the bill and finally agreed to pay, but only half of it. Many customers move, leaving an unpaid paper bill and no forwarding address. So the carrier is unhappy and gives up easily. So there is a frequent turnover on your delivery route and the service lacks the efficiency the good customer deserves. 4 The furniture store trying to collect an overdue account asked the delinquent, "What would your neighbors think if we came and got your furniture?" y.i.r.' The reply was, "We asked the neighbors and they said they think it would be a lousy trick." What would your neighbors think if they knew you don't pay the paper carrier? You know, they just might think it is a lousy trick.

ART BUCHWALD A Surprise Is Coming At Miami "WILL I RECOGNIZE my relaUves in heaven?" the hypocrite asked his preacher. "Not from (he distance youTl be looking at them, you won't," the preacher said. That's what I like about the Journal-Constitution vendeteria. It brings you close to your business associates. You come to know them and their problems.

The vendeteria is our coin-in-the-slot commissary. From its vending machines you can get almost anything you want, except another vending machine. In the vendeteria soon after we moved around the comer on Forsyth Street, I had lunch with Huey Stinson, circulation director, and Harry Evans, assistant director. From the conversation I got a good idea of the circulation operation scope. On Sunday more than 4,000 carriers deliver well over half a million papers; on week days, 475,000 papers.

HUEY TOLD ME that the day after our weekend move, by 4 p.m. the circulation department handled 2,500 calls. The confusion of moving was aggravated by the fact that the day was rainy and blustery. The newsboy's problems are varied. On Sunday a boy whose route consists of 75 papers deals with a stack as high as the ceiling.

He has to call on a parent to help. He has to deal with the dog at the home of many a subscriber. At one house the dog bit the boy. The next Sunday the father accompanied the lad. This was the sequence of events: Dog chases boy.

Father chases dog. Father falls and breaks his leg. Father asks subscriber to pay through his homeowner's insurance. Subscriber refuses, charges father with trespass. "Why can't I collect from that lady on Saturday?" a carrier asked a supervisor in another incident.

"Because she's a Seventh-Day Ad-ventist," the supervisor explained. "She does?" said the youngster. "She does what?" "You mean she pays seven days in advance?" Not many subscribers do. FROM TALKING with our circulation executives, I learned the carrier's biggest problem is the customer who is tardy in paying for his paper or who won't pay at all. What such a subscriber must not realize is that he is not holding out on a big newspaper corporation, but on a boy or a distributor, an independent merchant who pays for the papers, by the week on consignment.

The carrier is the guy who must take the loss from customer default. Some of the poorest payers are executive and professional people. They just can't seem to see the importance of "such a small bill" being paid on time. One subscriber in that class let his bill run for six months, then told the carrier, "You'll have to deal with my secretary or my wife." V. By the way, Senator, how ARE you gonna pay for it HUGH PARK Seeing It Like It Is Changes Her GEORGIA EDITORS SPEAK Dalmatian and with all the firemen in full gear stopped and the driver asked me if I wanted a ride.

"Another time I was sort of moping along and an ambulance stopped and the driver asked me if I wanted a ride. But it wasn't on an emergency. A cop stopped me one night and asked, 'Hey, baby, you want some A lot of kids who came from over the United States to run this camp were disillusioned but I wasn't. ,1 was wiser but not disillusioned in what I saw there. I have been in some other things.

"I got to see 'Hair' because one of my cousins was then married to the producer, Michael Butler, and I enjoyed it FOR THE LAST FEW MONTHS, Miss Springfield has been adding to her background and that of some of her students by attending Municipal Court. "Maybe it's my morbid curiosity or something," she said. "It is amazing how people manage to get themselves in such messes without even trying. I had an idea that court was. like Perry Mason, with clean, about why people crack up but now I'm not so sure." In the Brooklyn ghetto, she was a counselor and swimming Instructor for a Y.W.C.A.

day camp, although she lived at the Y.M.C.A. where the students were housed. The Y.M.C.A- was in a neighborhood that has won no laurels, of its own, Hell's Kitchen. It has a security guard and you had to show your room key to board the elevator. "The most frightening thing that happened to me," she said, "was when two guys followed me into a subway one night and sat on each side of me.

One wanted to talk about 'the radical South' and the other was simply vile. There were a few other people on my car and, of course, they pretended they were deaf. The two finally got up and left. "YOU ARE NEVER BORED In New York. All you've got to do is get out and walk on the street.

Each time it will be different and totally unexpected. One Sunday morning 1 was walking through Hell's Kitchen when a fire truck, siren and flashing lights going and a dog barking the usual JUANITA SPRINGFIELD, 23-year-old teacher of sociology "study of people and groups" does not like to go entirely by academic theory but gets out and sees things for herself and it has changed some of her views. The green-eyed brunette, "an Army brat," is a student teacher at Wheeler High School in East Marietta and is working on her master's in the behavioral sciences at Georgia State. She has a deep love for teaching. She found it after a diversified career for her age.

She has worked as waterfront director at the Girl Scout Camp Pine Acres at Lake Allatoona, in a department store, as activities director of the mental health unit at DeKalb General Hospital and as one of 40 students chosen from over the nation she was 20 then to run a day camp in the crime-ridden Bedford -Stuyvesant ghetto of Brooklyn. "I GUESS I DON'T HAVE what it takes to work with mentally disturbed people," she said of her DeKalb Hospital job. "Before I went into it I could have given you theory after theory More Any Washington EVERYONE has his own scenario for this week's Democratic National Convention. The way things have been going with the party, one scenario has as much validity as the next. This is the one that I have written and if it comes true, remember, you read it here.

It is the fourth day of the convention and the Democrats have been unable to decide on a presidential candidate. The fight to seat delegations has taken up three days and those people who were ruled ineligible have refused to give up their seats to those who were officially designated as delegates to the convention. ALMOST EVERY state delegation has two people sitting in every chair. No one dares leave the floor for fear that someone will grab his seat. When someone tries to speak he is hooted down by the opposition faction.

Larry O'Brien, the chairman of the party, has the podium ringed with the National Guard so no one can grab the microphone. The nomination speeches have not been heard, but the candidates have been nominated McGovem, Humphrey, Wallace, Chisholm, Jackson and Muskie. There have been no demonstrations for the candidates in the hall because everyone is afraid if he gets up and marches they won't let him back in his section again. On the first ballot McGovern picked up 1,234 votes, well shy of the 1,509 he needed. The rest were split between the other candidates with the uncommitted refusing to vote for anyone.

The second and third ballot found no one budging. By the 10th ballot of Wednesday's all-night session, the convention was hopelessly deadlocked The state delegations caucused right on the floor, trying to get people to change their minds. But it was impossible. On NBC, John Chancellor and David Brinkley became short-tempered and refused to talk to each other. Howard K.

Smith and Harry Reasoner on ABC were also not speaking to each other, and on CBS, Walter Cronkite wasn't talking to himself. It was obvious to everyone in and out of the convention hall that a compromise candidate had to be found-one who had not already been nominated. BUT WHO? The Democratic party leaders call a recess behind the podium. They argue and thrash it out for several hours. The only man whose name is proposed as the compromise candidate is a very famous, but controversial, figure on the American scene.

He has announced many times that he is not a candidate for the presidency or the vice presidency, and has said under no conditions would he accept a draft. Yet, the leaders argue he is the one person who can save the party. This young man, whose name had been associated with a very embarrassing incident, is a household word now. Because of the deadlock at the convention, he is the only one who can possibly beat Nixon in November. The compromise candidate is not at the convention.

He has purposely stayed away so people would believe he was not interested in the nomination. O'BRIEN PUTS in a call to him. Everyone, in turn, gets on the phone and tells him he has to be the candidate. The compromise candidate speaks to George McGovem, Humphrey, Muskie and Wallace. They urge him to run.

The candidate finally agrees to a draft and says he will take the next plane to Miami. And that's how Bobby Fischer, the U. S. chess champion, became the Democratic presidential nominee for 1972- (C1975L) CELESTINE SIBLEY well-dressed defendants, but instead they are barefooted and bloody. And the proceedings are rather informal.

"I'm glad I'm not sitting up there in a robe because when I hear a sad tale I say, 'You poor At first I believed anything people said but I have learned that a person can lie and look you right in the eye, no shifty eyes, like he is telling the gospel truth." "Do you think women make good jurors because of their sympathetic nature?" I asked her. "I think so because many women aren't as gullible as I am. But I'm becoming harder. I've seen some homicide pictures and the agony the murdered must have gone through shook me up quite a bit" SHE HAS ATTENDED court over 20 times now and I asked her what she thought of the police. "Some are very good, some need more experience," she said.

"I was sorry for a very young officer after an experienced criminal attorney got through with him. Some. lawyers impup people merely trying to do their duty, or who have been outraged through no fault of their own. "After hearing one lawyer go after a girl in a rape case oh, but did he go after that girl it made me wonder if I would report it if I were raped. I don't know how she stood up to it.

On the other hand, a defense lawyer was so nice to two girls who were raped by two men. Although he was defending the accused men, he told the girls he knew they were upset and to have a seat until they felt better." WHAT DID HER high school sociology students, both boys and girls, think of the court cases? "They had been studying (riminology and they were shocked, the boys as much as the girls," she said. "I took them down there for shock value. The chances of kids being in court, with drugs and so on, are high. They were very interested "Basically, I'm middle-class and this was the other side of the tracks to me as well.

Drugs do not provide a glamorous life, that's for sure. The kids on them look worse than some 40-year drunks with their dirty, stringy hair and terribly drawn and sallow faces. "I've seen some things I thought were noble. There was a bunch of kids arrested for heroin and one girl took the blame. I thought that was noble.

But then in next week's court, there she was for assault on an officer. I'm getting more and more discouraged. I don't know whether the world wants to be saved." She Was Freezing in Her Sari Ideas About Democracy? Savannah Morning News EVERY ELECTION year, the Democrats like to demonstrate that theirs is still the party of the people. Thus, a number of reforms were established in revamping the convention delegate process, and Georgia itself was to be a model of the "people" even taking part in this preliminary ceremony. But the election of delegates by the people, for the people, soon showed its own signs of inner corruption.

It was not enough to have nonpolitico voters choose the delegates; the delegates had to be apportioned along certain lines: so many members of a racial group, so many women, so many young people, so many, we presume, cab drivers for party hacks. This in itself was contradictory. If the intention was for the public to choose anyone it so desired, that choice was eventually limited by it having to meet certain ratios. Thus, democracy in the selecting of convention delegates was a good thing as long as the voters picked the "proper" delegate candidates. This transparent reform becomes most obvious in the case of two 1st District candidates, who were sidelined this week by the party's credentials committee.

It did not matter that they were elected during the voting for district delegates in Glennville back in March, that they were the choice of the rather baffled voters who took part in that affair; in the long run, they failed to meet the criteria of color that the credentials committee has set up. -In the long run, the process isn't any more democratic than when delegates were picked from the governor's cam-paign-debt-and-guest list. Any more Ideas about making the Democratic party democratic? chatting with naked people would have strained my provincial poise. The whole clothes picture Is so funny these days. Some of it is pleasant and comfortable.

For instance, I didn't see anybody under 60 who was conservatively dressed In dark dresses or, for the men, suits and ties what we used to regard as travel clothes. There were long dresses and bare feet and short plants and boots and everything imaginable between these two extremes. Wearing a cotton dress and barefoot sandals back from a trip makes sense, I decided, and I was delighted to see that airlines have adopted a live-and-let-live aboui luggage. They might still prefer that you travel with sturdy, locked and labeled suitcases. But if you should happen to have a dirty canvas tote bag with shoes and sweaters falling out of it they will help you tie and tape it up and accept it to be checked.

They even took a paper bull filled with candy for the children from me and were solicitious about the well-being of a potted rose and a peat flat full of lavendar that constituted what they called my "carry-on" luggage. It's a more relaxed day Out There t-and I believe I like it. Well, I knew what a body suit was practically nothing. An all-in-one undergarment something like the teddies my mother once wore, except close-fitting and briefly cut. "No wonder you're cold," I mured.

And our host, who happened to overhear, accused me of being catty. I would have felt terrible if the lady in the sheer pink voile had thought I was being catty but she apparently did not. She smiled good-humoredly and later when the wind whipped at the torches on the sand dunes and the party adjourned to the wood-burning fireplace she went, back to her room and put on jeans and a sweater. THE REASON I mention her is that I still marvel at the things one sees in the big outside world. One morning when I took a walk on the beach, for example, I was warned not to let my southern friendliness cause me to try to engage the neighbors in conversation unless I was prepared to chat with a group of buck-naked people without becoming unglued.

I wasn't sure I could pull that off so I walked in the other direction. Swimming in the buff doesn't shock me, I hasten to add, but standing around on the beach and IT'S VERY broadening to go forth into the big world, to stay in other people's houses and examine the customs and mores of citizens from other places. Last weekend there was a lady at a beach party, for instance. She was a beautiful woman, small-boned and dark, but not particularly young. She arrived at the party early, wearing jeans and a sweat shirt, and said she hated to go and change because the wind from the ocean had freshened and she felt sure it would be cold on the deck as the evening progressed.

"Well, don't bother to change," our host said. "You're fine as you are." "Oh, but I have a new dress," she said. "I brought it all the way out from New York and I wouldn't miss wearing it, even if I freeze to death." A BIT LATER I saw her and she was wearing a deep rose voile sari, kaftan or whatever they call those long robe things. I admired it and she said thank you but she was freezing. "What have you got on under it?" I said, peering into the soft, sheer folds of the garment.

"A body suit," she said. "That's all." -V- i I.