"It's like atrophy. It's putting me to sleep," her co-worker agrees.
A ranking organizational official reminds them, "Now, now, girls, we only have a half-dozen point lead in the polls."
Between phone calls, Apgar reflects on the campaign. Durkin is one of six liberal senators targeted by a nationwide conservative program to acquire Congressional clout. "He's definitely on the hit list; it's really hot race," Apgar says.
But, she adds, the pace pales in comparison to the frantic vote scramble before the February 24 presidential primary, which Carter won comfortably. "The final month was incredible. There was so much exposure and such a small electorate, it seemed like there were more campaign workers than voters." Now, she says, a definite "fatigue factor" has set in. "The average person on the street is so tired or hearing about the campaign. But in general, people here are a lot more aware."
Because New Hampshire voters are accustomed to "sitting down at the kitchen table" with presidential candidates, the "other"--non-presidential--contenders must do extensive grass roots campaigning. That suits Durkin just fine. "For the last five days, he's been up at 6 a.m. to visit factories. Hand-to-hand, door-to-door, that's the senator's style," his press secretary says.
The 44-year-old Durkin, a former state insurance commissioner, has no reason to expect anything to come easily. In 1974, when he first ran for the Senate, his election night vigil lasted nearly a year. The New Hampshire secretary of state said Durkin ended up ten votes ahead of opponent Louis C. Wyman; the Republican ballot commission gave Wyman a two-vote lead. No one really knew who won, least of all the Senate, which gave up trying to resolve the disputed election and sent the whole thing back to New Hampshire for another run-through.
Durkin easily captured the special election, and in his five years in "the club" has become one of the Senate's leading energy experts. He strongly favors the development of alternative energy sources, and sees big oil companies as a threat to the country's future. As to the controversial nuclear plant at Seabrook, Durkin favors coal conversion--to a refined brand of coal that meets Environmental Protection Agency standards. He has not shied from maverick stands, and is on the progressive cutting edge on many issues. His campaign handout says, "John Durkin is tough--he's blunt."
If Durkin is blunt, his opponent, Republican Warren Rudman, is downright ingenuous. The beneficiary of vigorous efforts by the National Conservative Political Action Committee, Rudman has watched his incumbent adversary crudely portrayed as a pro-busing, anti-prayer buffoon. One NCPAC leaflet has Durkin teaching a class of children--two of the children are white, with books on their neatly ordered desks. The two Black children are unflatteringly depicted; their desks are messy and bookless. John Durkin, the leaflet states, casts "anti-child" and "anti-parent" votes.
Other handouts are not so blatant, but they give a clear notion of what Rudman draws on for support. One taxation handout states in boldface that Durkin voted TO KILL a cut in the social security payroll tax hike, TO KILL a $30 billion tax cut, TO KILL a $7.3 billion tax cut, and TO KILL a 10-per-cent individual tax cut. "This message is brought to you by Defeat Durkin because you should have the facts when you select your next U.S. Senator," voters are informed; on a coupon, the leaflet adds, "I agree that John Durkin's two-faced record must be exposed," with room for a check mark.
For the record, Rudman supports the balanced budget and a peacetime draft ("both men and women should be subject to the draft, but women should not be assigned to combat duty"). His "position on the issues" flyer states that he "would have opposed" the Panama Canal Treaty. A former member of the New Hampshire ballot commission, he ruled against Durkin in the 1974 election dispute. Rudman leaves no paths untrod.
In contrast to Durkin's office in Manchester, Rudman's--situated a block up the street (on the other side of the road, of course)--is quiet. Volunteer Priscilla Jacobsen sits alone at a neat desk. "Mr. Rudman would make a fine senator. He was a fine state attorney general. He's definitely moderate--not right wing, not liberal. He has the right answers," she says. Having just lost her job, Jacobsen is getting involved with politics for the first time. "I'm exuberant," she says, adding that the presidential primary sparks a political consciousness that lasts until election day. "The primary generates tremendous business and ink. It gets politics into little towns. That's what keeps the interest up.
A Sense of Exceptionalism
For its paltry three electoral votes, New Hampshire exerts a disproportionate influence on the course of presidential politics. The people of the state realize their exceptional position, and carry a weighty sense of responsibility. A burden, almost, but one borne with pride. Most seem to enjoy politics for its intrinsic value, not as a means to some end but as a way of life. While many are bored with the protracted campaign, this seems linked to the current election rather than a long-term trend.
The attendant at the combined bus terminal motel in Manchester glances at the city's Union Leader, tool of conservative publisher William Loeb, which has Ronald Reagan splayed all over the front page. "Every day, the same thing," he says.
He pauses, then reconsiders. "The candidates for 1984 should be by any day now.