Senator no v. governor maybe - Jesse Helms and Jim Hunt of North Carolina

National Review, Nov 16, 1984 by Phillip Shadroui

SENATOR NO v. GOVERNOR MAYBE

JESSE HELMS, political folklore has it, once suggested that rather than expend taxpayers' money on a state zoo, the North Carolina General Assembly should simply construct a fence around the liberal University of North Carolina in Chapel Hill. It doesn't matter if Helms ever uttered the remark, for its significance is symbolic. Helms is not a man who talks guardedly in the public arena, and even when he is clearly correct--which is more often than his detractors care to admit--he provokes or charms, abuses or coddles, always mindfully and unapologetically. Thus North Carolina, to paraphrase an old Shirley Bassey song, loves him, hates him, loves him . . .

The same is true of the country at large, which has taken an intense interest in the high-powered Senate race between Helms and his Democratic opponent, Governor Jim Hunt. Conservatives and liberals alike are calling the election crucial--second in importance only to the presidential contest --and some have been driven to rhetorical excess. Foes of Helms label him a "Neanderthal,' and fervent supporters talk as if his candidacy were ordained by God.

Both sides are putting their money where they talk. By September, more than 180,000 people had donated more than $10 million to ensure Helms's reelection. Hunt had received almost $7 million from 75,000 people, and contributors include pro-Israel and environmental lobby groups and Hollywood liberals such as Norman Lear, Paul Newman, and Barbra Streisand. The national prominence of the campaign is further indicated by the fact that contributors from outside the state out-number those from within.

Why so much interest in this rustic politician, this throwback to days long passed when Southern gentlemen flung open doors for folks with a bow and a flourish? After all, Helms, by virtually every account, is a private, shy man whose personal demeanor hardly warrants such public caricatures as "Senator No' and "Prince of Darkness.' Yet, to understand the cacophony that constantly surrounds Helms, one must separate the public man from the private one.

It was almost 12 years ago when Helms, editorial director for WRALTV in Raleigh, sat before a crowd in Laurinburg, North Carolina, staring down at a plate of scrambled eggs, sausage, and toast. He probably smiled awkwardly when trying to play the political "Do you remember me?' game. But when he finally got up to speak, he became a committed ideologue who denounced pronographers, big government, and forced busing, who spoke of the spiritual decline of America and the horrible slaughter that would occur in Vietnam should the United States withdraw hastily. About school prayer, he said, "Some folks may think it is a dead issue, but I sure haven't forgotten about it and I bet you haven't either.'

And, from a state that is 75 per cent Democratic, that had not elected a Republican senator in this century, Jesse Helms went to Washington promising to wage a crusade. Wage it he did.

Today, the Republican Party's agenda is remarkably similar to that of Helms, who played a major role in drafting it. It includes school prayer and a balanced-budget amendment, and it does not include the ERA. It reaffirms the United States as one nation under God, rejects abortion, and advocates a determined military buildup.

It was Helms and his powerful organization that brought a dying Reagan candidacy back to life by propelling the challenger over Gerald Ford in the 1976 North Carolina primary. The rest, as they say, is in the New York Times.

Helms did not relax following Reagan's eventual triumph but, instead, grew more influential and well known by, of all things, challenging the President from the right. He opposed the appointment of Caspar Weinberger as Secretary of Defense and filibustered against a gasoline tax that Reagan wanted passed. He was a vocal--perhaps the only--defender of Argentina after its invasion of the Falklands. More recently, he created a furor by accusing the Reagan Administration of improperly influencing the election in El Salvador. During all of this, Helms emerged as a point man for the New Right.

Now, you don't have to agree with Helms or the New Right down the line--and many conservatives don't-- to concede an important point: Helms is an anomaly in this country, one of the few elected officials who is beholden to no one, not even the President he helped elect. The days when, as Henry Adams put it, statesmen guided public opinion and were little guided by it have gone the way of Jeffersonian government and other quaint, antique ideas. In these days of government by Gallup poll, Helms truly is an anachronism.

His opponent, Jim Hunt, is a master of government by Gallup and has spent most of his adult life building a political machine unmatched in state history. A career politician, he is a smooth, slick campaigner where Helms is stiff and uncomfortable. Hunt has gained a justified reputation for tailoring his message to different audiences. Critics attacked his performance as lieutenant governor, saying he spent more time building a political organization than he did running the state General Assembly. It was not long after his easy victory in 1976 that Governor Hunt began pushing to amend the state constitution, an effort that eventually allowed him to succeed himself. Even then, people were asking the governor about the outrageous Republican senator, and Hunt, a true party man, said Jesse Helms must go.