Sen. Eugene J. McCarthy (D-Minn.) is running for President of the United States. Although no formal announcement was forthcoming, the clear message of McCarthy's political junket to New England and the Midwest last weekend was that the Senator is a candidate. His public statements all but acknowledged his candidacy, and his private remarks left no question at all.

To those accustomed to Massachusetts politicians, the decision of this dovish David to challenge the presidential Goliath seems a strange one indeed. He lacks the jaunty grin of an Edward M. Kennedy; he does not pound the table with his first like a Francis X. Bellotti; and his throat does not issue the pious platitudes of a John A. Volpe.

McCarthy speaks slowly and thoughtfully. As he speaks, he glances occasionally at his hands which seem in a constant awkward motion. He projects a hint of uneasiness and a strong sense of modesty.

His route to the 1968 presidential primaries has been circuitous. He entered the national political spotlight with his "Do not forsake this man" nominating speech for Adlai E. Stevenson at the 1960 Democratic convention. Many Stevenson supporters remember that as the last truly grand moment in their hero's career.

Four years later he was the also-ran whom Johnson humiliated by dangling the vice-presidency before his nose until (literally) the last minute. Since then, the Senator from Minnesota has been largely eclipsed. His voting record has been impeccably liberal, but he has not been conspicuous. His opposition to the war policy has toughened but half a dozen other Senators have grabbed more headlines for their anti-war views.

When rumors began circulating last month that McCarthy might contest the President in the Massachusetts primary, anti-Johnson forces in the state were enthusiastic about the prospect. But the politically astute among these were concerned that McCarthy might prove to be a "cream-puff." They had had their fill of educational campaigns with the 1962 Senate bid of H. Stuart Hughes, who rallied a whopping 2.4 per cent of the Massachusetts electorate to his cause.

"He's not an energetic guy," one worried McCarthy supporter said, "and there are no fireballs in his office. It's shocking! He has no money, no organization, no plan. But he's talking about running for the presidency of the United States of America where there happen to be 200 million people. You don't even farm this way anymore."

The skeptics were particularly concerned about the New Hampshire primary. McCarthy had reportedly been influenced by John Kenneth Galbraith, Allard K. Lowenstein, and others who argued that a victory in the Granite State contest--the nation's first--would be a necessary first step in a successful campaign to unseat Johnson.

Opponents of this view argued that New Hampshire is the Mississippi of the North. Its only state-wide daily newspaper, the Manchester Union Leader, is controlled by ultra-conservative William Loeb. The state's small-city, subsistence-farmer mentality, they said, is more disposed toward conservatives like Styles Bridges and Louis Wyman than Gene McCarthy liberals.

"To win in New Hampshire," these people argued, "McCarthy would need Estes Kefauver's drive or Jack Kennedy's money. He has neither." Moreover, they said, a defeat in New Hampshire would likely sound the death knell for the rest of the campaign.

Thus, the very people McCarthy will have to attract if his campaign in Massachusetts is going to get off the ground voiced doubts about the Senator's political savvy and determination even before he arrived. McCarthy's three day stay here dispelled many of these doubts.

The Senator got off to a promising start at the rally preceeding the College Young Democrat's banquet at the Hotel Continental. The advance work by his undergraduate supporters attracted a large crowd. His speech was restrained, but the crowd liked him. McCarthy drew them in with the classical oratorical trick of shouting out a question and letting the audience roar back its reply.

The banquet itself, however, verged on disaster. The confusion of the College Young Democrats combined with the histrionics of at least one member of the Harvard delegation contributed to the trouble, but the Senator's lack-luster speech was mostly to blame. It was just too low-key for the occasion, and more applause preceeded it than followed it.

McCarthy began to shine in private meetings. On Monday he lunched with 60 prominent members of this state's peace movement at the Harvard Club of Boston. He began the meeting with a brief moral condemnation of the war. (Throughout the weekend, McCarthy impressed private audiences with the extreme toughness of his anti-war stand.)

Guest after guest rose at the luncheon to challenge the viability of this approach in a campaign. The war must be attacked, they asserted, on economic grounds. McCarthy must capitalize on general anti-Johnson feeling and on other issues besides the war. This line of questioning seemed to impress McCarthy. He acknowledged that a one-issue campaign would fail and agreed on the need to raise more issues. But even though McCarthy may attack the war on a variety of grounds, the moral issue will always be foremost in his mind.