Shortly before noon on January 18, 1967, the 300 members of the General Court of Massachusetts will assemble in the elegant Chamber of the House of Representatives. Two carved thrones on the canopied Speaker's Rostrum and twelve black leather armchairs at its base will be conspicuously empty. At just a few minutes before noon there will be a loud rapping on the chamber's main door. The president of the senate, who will be presiding, will order the door opened, and a man dressed in a morning suit and top hat, holding an ivory mace will enter and cry out. "His Excellency, the Governor-elect; His Honor, the Lieutenant Governor-elect, the Executive Council and the constitutional officers-elect of the Common-wealth of Massachusetts."

The doorkeepers of the House will turn and face the senate president who will then boom out, "Admit His Excellency, the Governor-elect; His Honor, the Lieutenant Governor-elect, the Executive Council and the constitutional officers-elect of the Common-wealth of Massachusetts."

The members of the General Court will stand up, face the center aisle and applaud as the new state officers, soldiers, chaplains and state troopers file in. Then, the inauguration ceremony will continue as it always has with just one change. The men taking the oath of office will swear to perform their duties for four years instead of two.

And this is what John A. Volpe, Edward J. McCormack, Elliot L. Richardson '41, and Francis J. Bellotti have been thinking about for months. For anyone of them a loss tomorrow could well mean political oblivion.

In the past the loss of an important election was not the end of the road for a Massachusetts politician. High Massachusetts state officials like the governor, lieutenant governor, and attorney-general served only two year terms. And the men seeking party nominations to these posts traditionally began their search for delegates' votes six months before the June conventions. The fight for the next election, then, began only about 14 months after the last. If a defeated candidate could manage to keep his organization together for little more than a year then he would have a serious chance for gaining his party's nomination for the same or some similar office.

A really ambitious candidate could receive almost as much publicity as the office-holder who defeated him by visiting radio and TV stations, and newspapers across the state during the hunt for delegates' votes. Of course, after the June convention comes the September primary, but rejection of the convention nominee is rare. The loss of an election, then, for a shrewd Massachusetts politician was more of a momentary setback than a defeat; and the losing politicians often made good use of their extra time.

During his first term as governor (1960-62), John A. Volpe was a terrible speaker. He was inarticulate, rambling and not very sure of himself when speaking. He was succeeded by Endicott Peabody '42, a man with similar problems. But when Volpe began campaigning again in 1963 his speech habits had apparently improved; he was incisive, witty, articulate and had even begun to cultivate the clipped Kennedy-Saltonstall "a," which in Massachusetts separates the statesmen from the pols. The scuttlebutt is that Volpe took speech lessons while out of office.

The candidates who lose tomorrow will have to try and maintain the loyalties of their workers and allies for three years or forget about seeking state office. The end of the biennial delegates' votes fight may also mean the end of publicity by political columnists. The state's political writers are expected, out of a want for subject matter, to cover the General Court more closely (now there is not even one full-time correspondent attached to the state senate), and a whole new flock of political personalities may emerge crowding the officeless politicians from the center of public attention.

Richardson's Reasons

These considerations were probably behind Lt. Gov. Elliott L. Richardson's decision to run for attorney general this year instead of seeking reelection as lieutenant governor.

Richardson had originally planned on running for re-election with an eye towards 1970's gubernatorial election. But Francis X. Bellotti, Democratic lieutenant-governor from 1962-64 and a busy suburban Boston lawyer, decided this spring to run for attorney general hoping to become the Democratic gubernatorial nominee in 1970.

By defeating Bellotti this year, Richardson apparently reasoned that he could effectively remove Bellotti from the political scene. He also knew that the 1970 election might become a contest between the public images of the lieutenant governor's office (chief supermarket opener) and the attorney general's office (the learned crime buster). In any case, Richardson decided to run for attorney general this year.

The intensity of the campaign between Bellotti and Richardson reflects their knowledge that defeat would be tantamount to oblivion. For weeks they have engaged in charges and countercharges in daily newspaper advertisements. Last week in a furor over a supposed conflict of interest dating back to Bellotti's days as lieutenant governor, Richardson charged that Bellotti was "morally insensitive" while Bellotti claimed that Richardson was an "immoral candidate." It is virtually the only contest in which the candidates have recognized each other's existence.

Volpe vs. McCormack

The Volpe-McCormack fight is hardly less crucial for the future of either candidate. But the tenor of the campaign is completely different.

Volpe, a wealthy Republican contractor, is seeking his third term as governor -- only one other governor in the state's history, retiring U.S.

In the past an election was more of a momentary setback than a defeat...Now for a Massachusetts politician it's tantamount to oblivion. Senator Leverett Saltonstall '14, has served three terms. Curiously, Volpe's right to a third term, especially a new four-year term, is not even an issue in this campaign. If Volpe is to realize his dream of becoming the G.O.P.'s Vice-Presidential nominee, victory is essential this year.

The Democratic nominee, Edward J. McCormack, is a former Massachusetts attorney-general. He hasn't held office since 1962, when he gave up the attorney-generalship to run against Edward M. Kennedy '54 for the U.S. Senate. He was badly beaten in a convention and primary. A loss this year might force his tightly-knit organization to unravel. To keep it going and to keep himself politically alive McCormack would have to find another office. Boston elects a Mayor in 1968 and McCormack could conceivably try for that if he wanted to challenge Mayor John F. Collins or if Collins wanted to step down.

McCormack's gubernatorial campaign is surprising for its forebearance. Not only has he not made an issue out of Volpe's right to a third term; for the most part he has ignored the findings of a state senate committee investigating the activities of Volpe's Commissioner of Administration and Finance, John J. McCarthy. McCarthy revealed to the committee that Gov. Volpe's brother, S. Peter Volpe, who is also the vice-president of the John A. Volpe Construction Company, had been an unpaid consultant regarding the selection of architects for state contracts. And a South Shore architect told the committee that he had given Peter Volpe a $1000 check for a Gov. Volpe testimonial dinner.

But tomorrow night the 1966 campaign will be over and at least two men will be finished politically. Waiting, however, to take their places will be some of the members of the General Court, who next January will turn and face the center aisle and applaud the governor