To canvass for the Cambridge Neighborhood Committee on Vietnam, I got the shortest haircut I have had since high school and my sister took her longest skirt out of mothballs. These were not exactly sacrifices for the cause, but they were concessions, and we half-expected some concessions in return from the voters of Cambridge. We wanted them to listen.

"No!" said the sixtyish spinster after taking a good look at us, and she slammed the door. It was discouraging to have our first canvassee react that way, but in a moment the door re-opened.

"Are you two from Cambridge?" said the spinster.

"No," said my sister.

"Then what right have you got to try to influence Cambridge voters?" asked the spinster.

"The war in Vietnam isn't just a local issue."

"Have you done any military service, young man?" said the spinster, trying a new tack.

"I'm only twenty," I said.

"Well, it might please you to know that there are many boys not even that old fighting for America. I think patriotism is the important thing. I'm sorry!" And the door closed again, for good.

The precinct captain for the CNCV had told us not to argue; argument would only irritate the hawks and drive them to the polls. Remind the doves that the referendum is on the ballot, he said, and that there is an organization out there working to end the war. Most important, encourage the undecided; don't antagonize them, but give them a little talk and the pamphlet of Boston Globe antiwar editorials. The CNCV could count on only about fifteen percent of Cambridge to vote against the war. The great hope was with the undecided.

People of Decision

The people of Ward 4, where we canvassed, were very much decided. Ward 4 starts on Trow-bridge Street, spreads around the small doves' nest of SDSers on Dana Street, and ends somewhere in the hawkish territory of Central Square. Its residents are loath to be told, or even have suggested, what they ought to think about the war. Not that they are all openly hostile to the canvassers. "I believe that we're fighting for America, so that people like you will be free to hand out leaflets," said a patient old man in a straw hat and an old suit. But he would not take any of the leaflets. Wouldn't he just look at "What Six Military Leaders Say About Vietnam," you ask, handing him the shortest of the pamphlets.

He shakes his head and hands it back, saying, "I've read enough and I've come to my conclusions. Now I'm praying, praying for you young people that you'll come to your senses and support America."

Prayer is manifest in Ward 4, especially on the Irish blocks, where it is framed and hung on the wall. "Visit this habitation, we beseech thee O Lord, and protect us from the snares of our enemy." The homes with prayers in the alcove are likely to contain suspicious inhabitants who quickly close the door with, "I'm not interested," or "I've read all about the war," or "My husband's out now, but when he gets back he'll tell me how to vote."

Occasionally you encounter "yes" votes, or people eager to read the literature. Once or twice, a family is divided and a row ensues as soon as the door is shut. "Why did you even take that stuff?" shouts the wife, and the family is in for a morning of Vietnam debate.

Back at the CNCV headquarters we were assured that Ward 4 is particularly barren territory, and that student canvassers have it tougher than others. Just under two thirds of the canvassers have nothing to do with either Harvard or M.I.T. and four out of five of them are adults who have lived in Cambridge for over five years. They had gotten encouraging results, not only in the wealthy and academic wards, but also in the working class sections.

Anti-war Italians

In East Cambridge, for instance, although the Irish had been staunchly hawk, the Italians had been outright anti-war or at least eager to listen to the CNCV's arguments. At the same time, the immigrant sections have been very vulnerable to counter-canvassing on the part of the Veterans. The Vet leaflet, which included a picture of an American flag and a short statement about "Freedom is not free," seemed to strike a responsive and ever guilty chord in many Italians. CNCV canvassers found that on Saturday, when the Vet literature began to circulate, the Italians became less prone to long discussions about whether an anti-war vote would encourage the Communists, and more given to dogmatic statements that every American must support his President.

Despite the inroads made by the Veterans, the CNCV is still hopeful that forty per cent of the people who voted last Tuesday voted to end the war. The vote will not be tabulated and announced until November 28. A poll conducted last week by the CNCV showed sixty per cent still undecided, twenty-five per cent intending to vote "yes," and just 15 per cent determined to vote "no."

If you are skeptical about the poll, the CNCV people tell you about the San Francisco vote--thirty six per cent of the people endorsed a statement much stronger than the Cambridge one. The San Francisco referendum demanded immediate ceasefire and withdrawal. The Cambridge statement is more open-ended. It asks only for the "prompt return home of American soldiers from Vietnam"--implying that Johnson could do some bargaining, get some advantages before pulling out. That mildness in the wording, the CNCV hopes, should sway the undecided.

A Machine

Until November 28, when the inevitable press conference will make hay of the "yes" votes, no matter how scarce they may be, the CNCV will be hard put to keep its cause in the headlines. It will, however, use the time to decide on its next move. A machine has been created of inexperienced but zealous precinct captains who could decide to oppose the Democratic party machine and send peace delegates to the Democratic National Convention. The CNCV organization could also turn its sights toward supporting a Gavin or a McCarthy in the April primaries.

"We've broken out of Wards 7 and 8--the Harvard Brattle Street section," says Michael Walzer, Co-Chairman of the CNCV. "We have a lot of options and we'll just have to get together now and decide which ones to pursue."

For the moment, the CNCV headquarters is relaxed. The three-week wait for the vote-counting is aggravating, but it will allow the soldier vote to come in from Vietnam. The hope is that if the soldiers, several hundred strong, vote against the war, the CNCV could steal most of the Vets' thunder and the sign "My Son is a Marine," pasted on more than one door in Ward 4,, could take on a very different meaning.