There is something about a Presidential candidate, even if you don't particularly like him, that makes you stop and look around when he goes by. The truth of this was demonstrated last week when vice-President Richard M. Nixon stormed Boston in a whirlwind visit. Although Nixon was more than 30 minutes late, thus neatly missing the rush hour, and although the weather was cold and rainy, an estimated quarter of a million people jammed the streets of downtown Boston to get a look at the Republican nominee.

Of course, that figure of 250,000 has to be examined before its import can be told. In the first place, it was one of those not-too-reliable sheriff's estimates. ("Well, Sheriff, how many people do you think we've got here?" "Wall, I don't rightly recollect ever seeing so many before, but it must be at least 50,000.") In the press bus during the motorcade's progress, Boston newsmen made guesses ranging from 100,000 to 200,000, but the final figure, arrived at by two police officials, was 250,000. "The important thing is that we all get the same number," one reporter said. "In the old days, everybody used to fight for news, but we've learned to work together."

Then there is the simple fact that not all of the supposed 250,000 like Nixon, or at least that not all were intending to vote for him. There were some Kennedy placards--one at the Statler Hotel read, "We Want Kennedy. Go Home"--but not very many. And there was the usual percentage of concerned but ineligible college youth and screamy little kids. But, even with all this taken into consideration, there was an unexpectedly large number of Nixon supporters on a miserable day in Sen. Kennedy's home state. The 6,000 paid-up diners at Thursday night's $100-a-plate soiree should have only solidified what the events of the early evening had already told uneasy Kennedy men--that perhaps Kennedy's apparent intention not to return to Massachusetts until the night before the election is taking an awful lot for granted.

It is possible that the local Republican slate, or at least the top of it, may have helped to draw the large crowd and may even aid Nixon in November. Sen. Saltonstall and John Volpe, the GOP candidate for Governor, met Nixon at the airport. Saltonstall and Nixon posed for a picture with arms slung over each other's shoulders, while Volpe, who could go down in history as the Commonwealth's shortest Governor, jumped and craned his neck behind them. Both Saltonstall and Volpe had their hands full as the motorcade passed through the downtown shopping district.

Saltonstall still seemed to be amazingly popular with Bostonians, although it is hard to say why. He seems to be a nice enough old duck, without glaring faults or shining virtues. When the motorcade reached the Statler-Hilton, Salty stood unnoticed, without even a police escort, while the crowd mobbed Nixon. Once Nixon was safely inside the hotel, however, the throng feel on the Senator with the affection of a mother for her long-lost son. One beefy fan kept pounding Saltonstall on the back and shouting, "Hey look! It's Salty! How are ya, Salty?" Such is the love of the people of Massachusetts for Leverett Saltonstall.

At the dinner, Saltonstall said some very nice things about Nixon, and the vice-President responded by declaring at one point, "Massachusetts needs Leverett Saltonstall. I would change that to America needs Leverett Saltonstall." The Republicans displayed an interesting slate, including Secretary of State nominee Edward W. Brooke, the first Negro in the Commonwealth to run for state-wide office, and Augustus Means, the extremely young-looking Junior Chamber of Commercetype candidate for Lieutenant Governor. There was someone to please everybody, and it was a not unattractive lineup.

Nixon himself looked suntanned and genial, and showed his extreme polish in impromptu speeches at the airport and en route to the Statler. His addresses to the local dinner and to the nation over closed-circuit TV were hard-hitting and effective; he seems to have refined most of the corn out of his talks, at least in Boston. In general, the impression was strong that the Republicans are not dead in Massachusetts.