THE DIFFICULTIES for Republican representatives who want a more progressive look for their party were dramatically illustrated at the House Republican Conference on January 14. First, the conference kept a conservative monopoly on the leadership by rejecting the bid of moderate Peter Frelinghuysen, Jr., of New Jersey to replace Leslie C. Arends of Illinois as party whip. Then, with a standing ovation, the conference welcomed into its ranks Albert W. Watson, the South Carolina Democrat who resigned from his party after House Democrats had deprived him of committee seniority for supporting Barry Goldwater.

The message of the two acts was quite emphatic because of the rebuke to the new minority leader, Gerald R. Ford, Jr., of Michigan, who had recommended Frelinghuysen in order to give the outnumbered liberals and moderates some voice in policymaking. For liberals, particularly those belonging to an informal group known as the Wednesday Club, the episode shattered any illusion that they had gained strength as a result of the disaster suffered by the party last November 3. The Frelinghuysen rejection, in fact, was an ungracious slap at the Republicans who survived the Johnson landslide with the most ease. Not only did liberal and moderate incumbents fare surprisingly well in Congressional battles, but the Wednesday Club's unofficial leader, New York's John V. Lindsay, ran up the most impressive margin of any House Republican, with seventy-one per cent of the vote in his Manhattan district. Moreover, wholesale defeat of pro-Goldwater conservatives accounted for most of the net loss of thirty-eight G.O.P. seats.

Against this background, it is ironic that the recent shake-up in the Republican House command deepened its shade of conservatism. Although Ford's support of Frelinghuysen lessened the apprehension of liberals, he is regarded by some as even more doctrinaire in his conservatism than his predecessor, Charles A. Halleck of Indiana. Ford took Goldwater's side on the nuclear-weapons issue at the San Francisco convention and made no secret of his interest in obtaining the Vice-Presidential nomination.

The Goldwater coloration is more pronounced elsewhere in the leadership. Melvin R. Laird of Wisconsin, who replaced Ford as the G.O.P. conference chairman, was the chairman of the national convention's platform committee that so conspicuously shaped its planks to Goldwater's specifications. Also, Arends was an early and consistent advocate of the Arizona senator.

True liberal Republicans in the Senate have won a modicum of power in recent times because of their seniority and the erosion of the dominant conservative bloc. And under the tolerant leadership of Everett Dirksen, there has not been the same pressure for conformity in the Senate as there has been in the House.

Even so, there are off-limits areas. The Senate Finance Committee has remained a special preserve for conservatives. And there is little prospect that Thomas H. Kuchel of California, who was awarded the whip's job after a band of seven liberals revolted against the leadership of the late Styles Bridges in 1959, will ever succeed Dirksen.

But it is in the more conservative House that progressives have encountered the most severe ostracism. Not since Scott left for the Senate six years ago has there been a moderate or liberal on the legislation-clearing Rules Committee. The thirty-five-member Republican Policy Committee has served primarily as a mouthpiece for rigid conservatism. Under Halleck, the policy of excluding liberals was sometimes carried to absurdity. Silvio O. Conte of Massachusetts was once passed over for a vacancy on the Migratory Bird Conservation Commission even though he presented Halleck with a petition of support signed by fifty-five fellow Republicans. Halleck gave the appointment to a freshman conservative from Pennsylvania.

The Wednesday Club

It was this kind of autocracy that led to a gathering of seven progressives in the office of F. Bradford Morse of Massachusetts in January, 1963. There were five other Easterners: Lindsay, Stanley R. Tupper of Maine, Robert T. Stafford of Vermont, Abner W. Sibal of Connecticut, and Charles M. Mathias, Jr., of Maryland. Robert F. Ellsworth of Kansas rounded out the group. Besides their devotion to enlightened Republicanism, the seven shared a lack of seniority.

There was nothing conspiratorial about the birth of the Wednesday Club, the name the group received because of its weekly sessions on Wednesday afternoon. "Our only thought was to discuss issues, exchange information, and have a few drinks together," recalled one of the charter members. By 1964, the club had grown to fifteen with the addition of Conte, George M. Wallhauser and William T. Cahill of New Jersey, Herman T. Schneebeli of Pennsylvania, Ogden Reid of New York, Charles A. Mosher of Ohio, Garner E. Shriver of Kansas, and Alphonzo Bell of California. Schneebeli, Mosher, and Shriver were conservatives who were accepted because, as one of the club explained, "They are thoughtful, practical politicians who are sympathetic to another viewpoint." Ideological differences did not particularly matter under the club's policy of discussing issues without taking specific positions.

For the most part, the Wednesday Club represented a meeting ground for those who favored more affirmative Republican policies and who frequently bucked Halleck's efforts to forge a united Republican front against the Democrats. All seven charter members voted for the permanent enlargement of the Rules Committee in 1963. During the 1961- 1964 period the Democratic administration was not able to win passage for many major bills without the support of fifteen or more rebel Republicans. By and large, it was the Wednesday Club members who led in the fence-jumping. This kind of voting reflected the attitude of one progressive who observed in what amounted to a credo for the Wednesday Club, "There is nothing wrong with saying 'me too' when the other fellow has a good idea."

THE WEDNESDAY CLUB operated without other G.O.P. members or the press becoming aware of it until last April, when the Associated Press carried a story on the group. The exposure stemmed from a reporter's discovery that the members had sent a letter to Secretary of State Dean Rusk early in 1964 proposing a conference between Johnson and President de Gaulle. According to one insider, Halleck was furious to learn that such a group was meeting regularly; he evidently suspected the nucleus of a plot for his overthrow. The publicity also frightened some Wednesday Clubbers who feared retaliation from the leadership.

After the election catastrophe, the Wednesday Club decided to play a more public role in rebuilding the party and improving its leadership in Congress. All but two Wednesday Club members were returned — Sibal was narrowly defeated and Wallhauser had retired — and eight other congressmen joined the group, an indication that fear about associating with the reformers had diminished. Frelinghuysen headed the newcomers, followed by Howard W. Robison and Frank J. Horton of New York, Joseph M. McDade of Pennsylvania, William S. Broomfield of Michigan, Mark Andrews of North Dakota, and William S. Mailliard and John F. Baldwin, Jr., of California. Generally speaking, these additions diluted the progressive nature of the group by bring in several representatives whose voting records were closer to that of the party leadership.

With twenty-one members, the Wednesday Club began to talk about organizing formally like the liberal Democratic Study Group. It also began acting as if it had some muscle. Reid and Bell were dispatched to Denver as observers at the Republican Governors Association conference in early December. The stated purpose was to work out a system for close liaison between the group and the governors in trying to reshape the party. "The country expects Republicans to recognize the character and nature of the November 3 defeat," Reid told reporters. "This calls for fundamental action to repudiate extremism and racism."

These post-election activities left the impression of an insurgent force that might rival other historic uprisings by Republican progressives. For several decades starting late in the nineteenth century, Republican leaders had to contend with agrarian rebels led by Robert La Follette of Wisconsin, George Norris of Nebraska, and others. In the 1930's, a new band of liberals from the East began arriving, forcefully led by Fiorello La Guardia of New York.

But the recent fight for Republican leadership raised a serious question about the new movement's ability to present a common front. With little to choose between the ideologies of Ford and Halleck, the Wednesday Club split in its approach to the contest. Lindsay, Reid, and Ellsworth suggested that the group sponsor Stafford, a former governor of Vermont. While he would not win, it was argued that he might drain off enough votes from the conservative contenders to deprive either of a majority. Thereupon the liberals, holding the balance of power, could win concessions to break the deadlock.

Most of the Wednesday Club members did not agree. They doubted that the strategy would succeed and even believed that it might backfire to ensure Halleck's re-election. A majority plainly preferred to gamble on Ford, on the basis that his reputation for fair-mindedness outweighed their qualms about his conservatism. Conte, for example, had been kept on the House Appropriations Subcommittee for Foreign Aid last year through the intervention of Ford, who dissuaded other Republican leaders from switching him to another subcommittee because of his pro-administration votes on aid bills. Ford had also gone out of his way to establish friendly relations with Tupper, Bell, and several other junior congressmen.

The Impact of the Election

Nonetheless, after several argumentative meetings, the club decided to send Conte to Ford to see whether he would bargain to give progressives a share in the leadership. Ford told Conte that he would make no deals with anyone. Instead of turning the group away from Ford, this refusal caused several members of the Wednesday Club to give him their votes. As one member explained, "If he promised us something he probably would be promising the other side even more." So sixteen members voted for Ford, while Lindsay and four others sided with Halleck.

The club was indecisive at first over the choice of a candidate to run against Laird for the conference chairmanship. Laird was anathema to moderates and liberals because of his San Francisco performance in rejecting demands for strong planks on civil rights, Presidential control of nuclear weapons, and extremism. But it wasn't until a Sunday-night meeting at Reid's Washington home twelve hours before the opening-day conference on January 4 that the Wednesday Club agreed to back Frelinghuysen against Laird.

Frelinghuysen did surprisingly well, losing by a relatively narrow margin. But this showing contained the seeds of unforeseen misfortune. Some Wednesday Club members misinterpreted the closeness as a manifestation of a new complaisance toward the moderate view and not of anti-Laird sentiment. Not only did events prove this conclusion unwarranted, but some overeager members undermined their cause by telling the press that the Wednesday Club had advised Ford to nominate Frelinghuysen for the No. 2 job of whip. When Ford did name Frelinghuysen, strategists for Arends now could whisper that the choice had been dictated by the liberal bloc.

In a sense, the Wednesday Club has been guilty of misreading the impact of the election on Congressional Republicans. Despite the heavy losses of the conservatives, the progressives are still outnumbered in the 140-member House delegation by nearly seven to one. Furthermore, the G.O.P. traditionally has taken a strong rightist stand in Congress after losing Presidential elections. A majority of Republicans hold that fierce partisanship is the easiest way to oppose a liberal Democratic administration.

And one added factor has been gradually overlooked this year: the expanded influence of Southern Republicans in contributing to a neo-Goldwater complexion. While the old coalition of Southern Democrats and Midwestern Republicans has been shattered, a new alliance of Southern, Midwestern, and Western Republicans promises to be a powerful intraparty force in resisting change. The Southern wing's growing power was emphasized in Arends's 70-59 victory—fourteen of sixteen Southerners backed the Illinois conservative. As one of the new Alabama Republicans told the Washington Post: "We didn't come up to vote for liberals; we came to revive conservatism."

THE ATTITUDES of the conservatives toward the Frelinghuysen nomination were revealing. One Old Guardsman asked the New Jersey representative whether he could guarantee to keep his state in line on all major votes, a question implying that Frelinghuysen's moderation might make him unwilling to go down the line against the Democrats. After Arends's re-election, Representative Glenard P. Lipscomb, an ultraconservative Californian, remarked, "Jerry made a mistake in not consulting enough people before making his choice." Implicit was the hint that Ford should have known better than to recommend anyone unacceptable to the captains on the Right.

Further proof that business will go on about as usual came with the new committee appointments. In another rebuff to Ford, Republicans put ultraconservative James F. Battin of Montana on the important Ways and Means Committee. In so doing, they rejected the bids of Charles E. Goodell of New York and Wednesday Club member Ellsworth. The one spot open on the Rules Committee went to James H. Quillen of Tennessee, whose 1964 voting record was scored perfect by Americans for Constitutional Action.

These actions offer little hope of broad Republican support for any compromise packages to counter Democratic proposals for building the Great Society. "Jerry can talk all he wants about constructive alternatives, but he'll be the only one in the leadership who'll support them," a Western liberal commented.

All this points up Ford's dilemma: he was chosen to replace Halleck because he is a ruggedly handsome man who is supposed to give House Republicans a new, forward-looking image. Yet any substantial move he makes to recast the party in a more moderate mold almost surely will encounter the disapproval of a majority of House Republicans. In short, Ford appears to be a captive of the conservative flank from which he comes.

The party's standpatism probably ensures the survival of the Wednesday Club. In more euphoric moments, when things seemed to be going their way, some of its members talked about disbanding and working within the regular party machinery. Now the members are convinced that an organization of their own is needed more than ever.

The prospect is that most of the Wednesday Club votes will continue to go to the Democrats on major bills. So long as the progressives are treated as outcasts in their own party, they are not likely to feel any pangs about party regularity.