The first thing Chase Untermeyer '68 tells his Institute of Politics study group--which examines how to succeed in politics--is to shelve their aspirations to become President. In fact, Untermeyer, a Republican state representative from Houston, Texas, strongly warns his charges against the "Youngest President Syndrome."

Frequently afflicting college students considering political careers, the syndrome leads innocent young pols to believe initial political success must be, at the bare minimum, to gain election to Congress, where they will stay only until Senate seats become vacant. Of course, they will linger in the Senate long enough to be elected the youngest presidents in American history, where they will serve two glorious terms.

Currently studying as a fellow at the IOP because he is unopposed for reelection and because the Texas State Legislature only convenes for six months every two years, Untermeyer says he wanted to lead the study group entitled "Getting There: A Practical Guide to Preparing for a Career in Politics," to make students aware of "exactly what it's like to be a politician. In my own experience, back when the IOP was formed and I took one of the first study groups, I learned what politics was like but not how I, Chase Untermeyer, was going to go from this classroom to the State Legislature of Texas, which I knew I wanted to do." To give today's students a little more direction, Untermeyer has arranged for events ranging from lectures from lectures from congressmen to field trips to Boston City Council meetings to viewing of the Robert Redford film, The Candidate.

To combat any delusions of grandeur his young politicos may shelter, Untermeyer's curriculum focuses on the more mundane routes to establishing a political career--moving into a community, securing a job that allows both the flexibility to run for office and the pay to support such an effort, and establishing oneself with local party structures and civic leaders.

Untermeyer says he had "a very hard time selling the IOP the idea" of his study group, recalling that "I was amazed that they didn't understand the value of the group--given that the very purpose of the institution is to expose students to the realities of politics." Nicholas Mitropoulos, assistant director of the IOP, admits the Institute usually sponsors study groups that examine the nuts and bolts of campaign organization rather than the life of a politician, but called Untermeyer's "great desire to do it" the overriding factor in securing the IOP's go-ahead. "We're here to learn about politics," he says, adding that the group has been very successful.

If all the world's a stage, then Untermeyer and his guests stress to the group's 25 students, about half of whom are undergraduates, that politicians must never forget that they are players. Saying that since his decision in high school to run eventually for public office, he has "made decisions about what I'm going to do as if I was writing my autobiography." Untermeyer warns, "You've got to be aware that your private life can push itself into and affect your public life." By the same token, the Texan argues that he has had no trouble inviting distinguished guests such as Congressmen Joseph Wyatt and Mickey Leland (both Texas Democrats) to address the study group, "because everybody likes to stand around in Washington cocktail parties and casually preface their remarks with, "Yes, when I was up lecturing at Harvard last week...'"

Untermeyer, a political reporter for the Houston Chronicle for two years and an aide to a country judge before winning his first election, advises that in "the people business of politics," a sharpened sense of humor is a must. As evidence of his own, he attributes the 78 per cent of the vote he garnered in his last election to four facts: "incumbency, good volunteers, all the money I needed to spend, and the fact that my opponent was indicted by a federal grand jury two days before the election." Describing errant press coverage as devastating, Untermeyer cites a Houston Post story on his opponent's trial that began by saying he had done many worthwhile projects in the community. "The next sentence said he had run against me."

To detail the obstacles a neophyte candidate faces in establishing himself, Massachusetts State Senator Robert Hall (R-Fitchburg) recently regaled the group with his tales of the vagaries of local politics and the steps necessary to prepare for an initial run for office. Hall told the students there is "no dividing line between getting prepared to run and running a campaign," directing them to waste no time in "building credibility" in their local community. "About the only thing you'll get out of college for succeeding in politics is that you'll be able to put in the paper, 'Went to Harvard or UMass or wherever,'" Hall says. A University of Massachusetts at Amherst alum himself, Hall spoke of his own schooling: in one lecture on state government, the professor "taught the state budget process as football with the governor as quarterback." How much relevance to the actual process that class had upon his arrival in the Massachusetts state legislature, Hall left open to discussion.

Politics in communities like Fitchburg is not all interviews on "Meet the Press" and frantically fighting off fervent supporters at mass rallies. Hall recalled phoning his campaign manager to ask him if he would attend to his fund-raising dinner. "He said, 'I don't know--I'm kind of busy tonight,'" Hall said with a laugh. Hall added that as a local candidate, he is forced to be his own campaign manager, press secretary, finance chairman and advance man. "As a Republican officeholder in Democratic Massachusetts, I'm something of a star," he said. The jovial exMarine believes the Massachusetts GOP "thinks I'm a machine. Whenever they want to run any candidates in my district, they say, 'Go see Hall. He controls northern Worcester Country.' Hell, they don't know that all I've got is eight high school kids handing out leaflets."

In the rarified atmosphere of the IOP in an election year, distinguished guests of various political liks often drop by to take in one of Untermeyer's sessions. Visitors have included a tour director for the Reagan campaign, a member of British Parliament, and assorted congressional aides and staffers. Several of the graduate students in the class have attempted runs at elective office, including Chet Edwards, a second-year student at the Business School. Edwards ran for Texas' Sixth District Congressional seat in 1978, and missed the runoff after the Democratic primary by 185 votes out of 85,000 cast. "From a 'yellow dog' Democratic district (where it's said that a yellow dog could win an election if he was listed on the Democratic ballot), Edwards says that his near-miss at age 26 shows that a young person can be elected to Congress-yet he still finds Untermeyer's viewpoint and discussion useful. "The speakers have shown that politics is not always the fund and games and glory everyone makes it out to be."

Perhaps because he has decided not to seek reelection, Congressman Wyatt treated the class to some personal insight on another of Untermeyer's favorite themes--the effect of politics on personal and family life. Drawling that "members of Congress are people, too," Wyatt said that after he was accused of participation in a homosexual incident and failed to curb his chronic drinking, he checked into a hospital for treatment because "it was been to get myself cured than run for reelection." Untermeyer cautions his students that the "all-consuming" demands of political life prevent all but the rarest politician from "having anything resembling a normal family life," and has invited Peter Beilenson '81, son of Congressman Anthony Beilenson (D-Calif.), to supplement the mature testimonials of Wyatt and others.

Glenn Moramarco '81, president of the Currier House Committee and Currier CHUL representative, may typify the politically untested students in the class. Having had an eye on politics even before his classmates at J.P. Stevens High in Edison, N.J., voted him "Best Personality" and "Most Likely to Succeed," Monamarco would like to start his political career in the New Jersey state legislature. But ignoring the possible hazards of the "Youngest President Syndrome," he doesn't count out higher aspirations. Modestly declining to be specific, he merely states, "I'd just like to go as far as I can." All things considered, even Chase Untermeyer probably wouldn't quarrel with his goal.