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Lin'DA Eaou-M, U.'..'cnity Editor
Martha VAccctrrai, City Editor
Mat Muraarxt, c-J NaticrJ Editor
9
Bill Fiilds, SprS Editor
Jav.cs Aiexamdes, Features Ed'ior
Tc.m Moc:.r., I sis E.'j.r
Scott StAr.?E, Fhtephy Editor
Akn Petes, Harrier E&jt
ear cf editorial freedom
. 1"
Republican Sen. Orrin G. Hatch of Utah showed remarkable insight
Friday when he declared that practices which "show preference of one
race over another are wrong and should be wiped out.
The same kind of insight moved Congress to pass the Civil Rights
Act of 1954, the 1972 Education Amendments and other legislation
aimed at eliminating racism that has been built into the American
political system during the last century and a half.
Dut Hatch is not talking about continuing efforts to end
discrimination based on sex, race, national origin or physical
limitation. Instead, the Utah senator, who is slated to be the next
chairman of the Senate Labor Committee, plans to push for a
constitutional amendment to outlaw the very programs created to do
away with inequality of opportunity.
It is easy to advocate equal opportunity for all. It is almost as easy
for private employers to claim they offer the same chance to every
applicant. The much harder task undertaken by the5 federal
government locating the sources and subtle manifestations of
discrimination has just begun to produce results.
If Hatch uses his Labor Committee standing and his powerful
influence as chairman of the Senate Judiciary subcommittee on the
Constitution, as he has said he will, the steps taken in the last two
decades toward overcoming past discrimination will be wiped out
before they've had time to reshape attitudes and produce long-term
positive change.
More disturbing than Hatch's narrow view of the federal
governments responsibility of ensuring equality is his desire to
prevent any future reforms once his proposals get through Congress.
"If we don't go the constitutional amendment route, the Democrats
would be back in control in a couple of years, and we would be right
back where we are now in giving preference to blacks over Chicanos or
preference to blacks, Chicanos and Asians over whites," the senator
said.
"Affirmative action' is a catch-phrase for the hundreds of
programs and government provisions designed to help overcome
nearly 200 years of discrimination favoring white, Protestant, male
Americans. Even advocates of the programs admit that dual
government goals fairness, and increased minority participation in
government and education sometimes conflict, and that problems
have arisen in carrying out affirmative action concepts. -
Hatch, however, would negate in one amendment the progress that
has been made in the past 16 years. Further, he would make sure no
future Congress could reverse or amend the 19S0 Republican-backed
legislation. To use the senator! s own words, that "just isn't right."
Action of the kind planned by Hatch and other social conservatives
in Congress should be met with active, vocal opposition by those who
recognize the potential danger of these proposals. Lobby groups
advocating civil rights and others representing minority groups should
use every avenue to block Hatch's constitutional amendment and to
. keep intact reforms protecting the potential victims of discrimination.
We find the contention that 16 years of affirmative' action has
produced an equitable society almost as ridiculous as Hatch's
proposal.
D
ariaiess ana reality
It's been two weeks since we went off make-believe time and started
setting our watches with the sun. But after giving reality two weeks to
grow on us, we still don't like it. It gets dark earlier. It seems like 8
p.m. when it's really 6. And when you wake up in the morning'it seems
like 10 when it's only 8. That's bad because you're thinking about how
unfortunate it was to sleep through your class only to find out you
didn't. Talk about depressing.
There are a lot of other problems with real time (as opposed to
Daylight Savings Time). We miss the extra hour at night because we
do, in fact, sleep through the one in the morning. Particularly
disturbing is the fact that bars close an hour earlier now than they used
to.
We've noticed that the libraries suddenly are full of studious people
rifling through the periodical listings and photocopying entire bound
volumes of Nation and Scientific America. It's gotten colder, too,
which certainly is partly winter and partly the shattering of pleasant
dreams. And remember that it was only after we switched to real time
that the football team got beat.
We know all about the importance of letting the little kids get to
school safely. And we don't mean to scoff at this important
consideration cither. It just doesn't seem fair that they should be able
to go on believing in Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny while we have
to deal with all the realities of time based on the earth's rotation. It
just doesn't seem fair... this thing called reality.
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By M ELAN IE SILL
WASHINGTON The glare of
television lights and the blare of swing
music bounce off the walls of the
Capitol Room in the Hyatt Regency
Washington. About 20 supporters of
John Anderson cluster around a big
screen TV, listening to Walter
Cronkite announce early presidential
returns. Their' candidate stands at 4
percent.
"It's too early, still too early," says
Bruce Post, Anderson's administrative
assistant in Congress. Post, who has
spent VA of his seven years on Capitol
Hill with the Illinois congressman,
looks a little worried. He takes a big
gulp of his gin and tonic and runs one
hand across his balding head. "We'll
get the 5 percent (needed for Anderson
to get federal campaign funds). We've
got to." The band starts up again, and
Post heads for the door.
Photographers crowd the door of
Anderson's lOth-floor hotel suite. A
burly Secret Service man blocks the
doorway with one arm and moves
aside to let five photographers
through.
"Oh, wow, there he is," marvels a
young woman as she spots John
Anderson from the door. Her press
credentials say she's from the
University of Maryland. A United
Press International photographer rolls
his eyes and lights a cigarette. Keke
and John Anderson ham it up for the
cameras with Patrick and Jean Lucey.
"Like this?" the independent
candidate asks, putting a hand on his
running mate's shoulder. An Anderson
aide rushes into the room.
"Ambassador (George) Bush is on the
phone," he says. Anderson and Lucey
bolt for the telephone. "For you,
Governor Lucey," the aide says,
pushing Anderson back gently.
Anderson laughs. The photographers
laugh. Cameras flash.
big screen. The groups watching each
of the three screens in the Capitcl
Room have grown to about 100. About
1 ,000 others mill around the room. It's
9:30 p.m., and Carter is making his
concession speech. "Four years ago, I
promised you that I would never lie,"
says the president, whose face shows
the strain and sorrow of a defeated
incumbent. The watchers at
Anderson's party laugh. A few hiss.
Others hiss when Carter mentions his
victorious opponent, Ronald Reagn.
Many faces in the Anderson crowd
show shock, some sue! ness, others
nervousness. Carter finishes his
speech, and the Hyatt viewers break
into grudging applause. A few are
crying.
Downstairs, Jimmy Carter is on the
"
"hit.
hi,
Hi
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...Running mate, supporters greet Anderson
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The security guards at the
Washington Hilton's International
Ballroom, site of Reagan's victory
party, aren't letting anyone in. Too
manyan estimated 7,000 arc
downstairs already. A rumor buzzing
through the mob says one of the guests
is actor Robert Redfcrd. The ballroom
has been declared a fire hazard because
of overcrowding.
In the ballroom, the Republicans are
reveling in the aftermath of Reagan's
surprisingly easy victory. An all-black
group is playing big band music for the
crowd, which is overwhelmingly white.
Few Reagan staffers are at the bash,
which is being thrown by the
Republican National Committee. Most
of the presidential campaign workers
are with the victor in California.
There's only one big screen at the
Reagan party, and several hundred
guests crowd in front of it to watch
their man's acceptance speech.
Reagan's words are barely audible
above the din of the celebration.
After the speech, John Eskridge, 23,
hugs his companion, Sandy Werner.
"Now we can get married," he shouts.
Eskridge explains that the North
Dakota couple didn't expect to be
"financially able" to marry had Carter
been re-elected.
On the other side of the ballroom,
two women are singing "We love you,
Ronnie," with a dozen or so ether
happy Republicans. Their, bright red
shirts, worn with navy blue skirts, are
emblazoned with the words, "Ronnie's
Angels." On their heads are plastic
hats with red, white and blue bands,
The same kind of hat was worn by the
Nixon Youth cheering section at the
1972 Republican National Convention
in Miami, One of the angels, Mrs. (she
stresses the prefix) Natalie Everett, has
been stumping for Reagan for several
months. "I'm glad it's over," she says,
hugging Gordon (Mr.) Everett. "He
wants to be No. 1 again." Gordon
grins. Natalie blushes.
C. Michael Mullin, president of
.International Technical Services,
rushes ' around the International
Ballroom waving a bumper sticker that
reads: "Hello Ronnie, Goodbye
Jimmy." He pulls out a business card
to help a reporter spell his name.
Mullin disappers in the crowd, then
returns with two rather tipsy
businessmen in tow. One wears a
plastic mask of Jimmy Carter. The
other is a West German visitor who
doesn't care much about American
politics. "I always enjoy a good
party," he explains in a serious voice.
-He and the mask produce business
cards.
In the Hilton lobby, Jimmy Warlick
cf Asheville is selling colorful buttons
to Republicans. He's a Democrat. It's
been a great night for Warlick and his
partner, "who have tkeri in $i;000
already at the Democratic and
Republican celebrations. "The Carter
buttons went fast, because this is his
last campaign," says Warlick, who
quit a job with N.C. Rep. Lamar
Gudger to go into the button business.
MThe Republicans are drunker,
though."
the taxicab and
Reagan landslide was a surprise, he
says. "Rean dcc:n't reiHy believe in
anything; he just wants to work 9 to 5
and go home to supper, v. ith Mommy
(Nancy Reagan)," the Pest writer says.
"It's the guys who work from 6 p.m.
on that I worry about." The repcrtcr,
who's from New York, says he's spent
some time in Chapel I 111! and talks
about North Carolina. "They're gcir.g
to let that madman senator cf yours
loose soon," he says. He's talking
about Republican Jesse Ihls. "He's
going to be up there in the State
Department." He yawns again, then
shrugs. The cab pulls up to the Pest
building.
The snarl of traffic has eased a little,
and the cab driver maneuvers his way
across town. His name is Stockey, he
says. "Just Stockey now I lost the
rest somewhere.'
Stookey is from Tarboro, though he
left his family's N.C. farm in 1945. "I
was going to California, but I got here
and waited for my buddy. Then 1 met
the woman I married. I never did get to
California."
Cuslnsssmsn C. f.'lchssl luZn cc!cbrstcs
...Reagsn win was good news for executive
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CTH Mdtni StH
Back at the Hyatt, John Anderson's
supporters have something to
celebrate. The Illinois congressman's
take of the popular vote is up to 6
percent. Bruce Post, now flushed with
excitement and more than a little
alcohol, is beginning to babble. He
loosens his tie and tries to straighten
his hair, which now is swept in several
different directions. With Anderson's
margin assured. Post muses about his
own future. "My friends say it's time
for me to leave the Hill," he says., lie
pauses, and his forehead creases. "But
can I do anything else?"
The Washington Post reporter is
ready to call it a night. He sits back in
The driver, a black man cf about 60,
says he's never voted. "I remember
back in the hard times the
Depression, you know when, uh, old
Herbert Hoover got in there.
"Now we got hard times again. And
now we got Reagan. It's just a rich
white man's world. That's all it is.
Folks like us, we just keep drivin and
woikin'. No Jimmy Carter can't help
us, none cf them politician men can.
They just don't know."
He reaches over to turn down the
volume cn his radio, which has been
pushing the sounds cf gospel music
and sermons into the night air. The
light of neon signs illuminates the
Christian literature cn his dashboard
and the green and white "Jesus is
Lord" sticker on the glove
compartment panel. "White folks just
keep electing presidents, and 11
folks just keep bavin their hard ti.r.
Stookey shakes his head ani pulls
the cab up to the curb. It's about 3
a.m., Wednesday, Nov. 5. The first
edition of the Washington Pest is
being loaded into delivery trucks
headed for the suburbs cf tha city.
Another presidential election is over;
too soon for some, too late for ethers.
Stookey doesn't mind. "I'll have a
good night tonight, he says. He
collects his fare and drives off, headed
toward the Hilton, where the Reagan
party still is going strong.
Mclsr.is Silt, a senior journalism tr.ajor
from Wcipahu, Hawaii, covered the
presidential (lection for The Dally Tar
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By FRANK WELLS
RALEIGH The Republicans victory celebration
here Nov. 4 was a study in contrasts. Members of the
Moral Majority danced with drunken fraternity men
to the blare cf a middle-aged beach music band in the
main party room. Cut behind the scenes, young staff
workers, many of thenf political novices, struggled to
maintain control of the celebration while older, mere
established Republicans quietly sought to align
themselves with the quickly improving fortunes cf
Jchn East.
Early in the evening, smiling young staff workers
weiring "New Team" buttons, seemed anxious to
keep the celebration running smoothly. Cut though
most were careful to maintain a facade cf
cooperation, some staffers admitted tension was
building between the staffs of individual candidates.
"The staffs are rt;.:ly at .each c:l..r f! rc:s
tonight," one said.
When Jimmy Carter appeared cn televi Km to
He stumbled off to crowd behind a television
reporter. "Think Gcd for Ronald Re: gar.!" he
screamed into the mike.
Neither senatorial candidate John East,
gubernatorial candidate I. Beverly Lake nor
lieutenant gubernatorial candldiate Bill Ccbey
appeared in the banquet room immediately following
Reagan's win. The staffers explained that the men
needed time alone with their families and staff, and
offered to help certain reporters fain admittance to
the upper Hoars.
"There's real competition to
up he:: to talk with different c:nd'..!:.':s, a r :;. .r
cf Ccbey's staff said. As the r.l;ht dre.-ped cn. t'.lrr
cre fev.cr and fewer trips tp stain.
was there too, as were Lake and hit father, 1. Beverly
Flaherty emerged from the rocm &heai cf the
group. His race v.a-.n't important; the cr.ly real hope
they ever had was with Jchn La.!, he i:l J.
"The rrctlem when vcu get within a coup!: cf
thousand votes,"
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