Swainson Pulls Major Upset in 1960 Primary

Excerpt from Wounded Warrior: The Rise and Fall of Michigan Governor John Swainson, by Lawrence Glazer

August 16, 2010

“Few people today remember John Swainson,” begins the Michigan State University Press catalog entry for Lawrence Glazer’s soon-to-be-released biography of the former Michigan senator, lieutenant governor, governor and Supreme Court justice. “As a teenage soldier he lost both legs in a WWII landmine explosion. Back in the United States, following a meteoric political rise in the Michigan State Senate, Swainson was elected as Michigan’s youngest governor since Stevens T. Mason.”

Those who do remember Swainson usually dwell on his dramatic fall: his perjury conviction in a federal bribery trial stemming from his work on the Michigan Supreme Court (see this month’s cover story).

Glazer’s new book, the first biography of Swainson, is sure to spark new awareness of and appreciation for the entire life of the boyish-looking Democrat who took the state by storm in the late 1950s and early 1960s. With this year’s August 3 primary still on everyone’s mind, Dome provides this excerpt dealing with Swainson’s upset win in the 1960 primary on his way to succeeding G. Mennen “Soapy” Williams as governor.

From Wounded Warrior: The Rise and Fall of Michigan Governor John Swainson, to be released October 2010. Published with permission from Michigan State University Press.

by Lawrence M. Glazer

The Primary: A Major Upset
On Tuesday, March 3, 1960, Mennen Williams asked for fifteen minutes of time on Michigan radio and television stations to announce his decision on another run for governor. Barely restraining his emotions, Williams told the audience that he would not seek a seventh term, but hoped to work for the cause of world peace in some national office.

The next day Michigan’s secretary of state announced he was a candidate for governor.

James M. Hare, forty, had served as Michigan’s elected secretary of state since 1955. A former public school attendance officer and political science professor, Hare had been a Michigan leader of the liberal Americans for Democratic Action. He had come to public notice when, as the appointed manager of the annual Michigan State Fair, he had kicked out some of the seamier shows and made the fair more attractive to families.

To the public, and to many Democrats, Hare appeared the obvious choice. He had the name recognition that went with six years as secretary of state; his name was prominently displayed on every local Secretary of State branch office, and on numerous official documents relating to the everyday life of Michigan residents. He had served six years administering a major department of state government, with reasonable efficiency and without scandal. He had won re-election by a greater margin than any other Democratic officeholder.

The secretary of state also had by far the biggest patronage organization of any state official. State law required at least one branch office in each of Michigan’s eighty-three counties, but under the patronage system, the organization grew to a high of 270 branch offices, each presided over by a Hare-appointed branch manager who received a cut of the fees generated by serving Michigan motor vehicle owners. As a matter of course, each branch manager was expected to support Hare’s political campaigns and raise money to finance them. Thus, Hare, unique among potential candidates for governor, had an existing statewide political machine, ready to spring into action at short notice.

Swainson, in contrast, had served four years in the state Senate and one two-year term in the relatively insignificant office of lieutenant governor. He was still very young, at thirty-five, and he tended to look younger in photographs. He had no organization at all.

Clearly, Hare had the advantage in the public, quantitatively measurable metrics. But inside the Democratic Party there were other measures, less quantifiable but just as real.

The branch manager machine empowered Hare with an independence that he did not hesitate to exercise. When Governor Williams had made the state income tax his main issue against the Republicans’ sales tax, Hare had not joined him — unlike Swainson. When Gus Scholle had loudly opposed electing a constitutional convention from existing legislative districts, because the delegates were certain to perpetuate legislative malapportionment, Hare had not joined him — but Swainson did.

And it was not only on these very public, deep-gut issues that Hare had hung back. The office of secretary of state was almost purely administrative. Its bread and butter was the provision of essentially non-political services to the public. The occupant of that office could maintain his electability by providing those services efficiently and cleanly. He had no need, indeed was not expected, to take positions on issues — positions which would alienate large groups of voters who were otherwise satisfied with his administration.

This was how James Hare conducted his office. It was a method designed to make him essentially unbeatable as long as he ran for re-election as secretary of state, and that was a major reason why Jim Hare had out-polled Soapy Williams in the 1958 election.

But a Democratic primary for governor was very different.

The unpartisan detachment that had allowed Hare to cruise along without alienating any major groups had also left him without any strong allies.

Intraparty politics is a clannish business, and clans tend to remember who was with them when it counted. Swainson had been a loyal and effective ally of Williams and the labor-liberal coalition in every battle since he had entered the state Senate in 1955.

Swainson was also seen, particularly by the local labor leaders, as a regular guy, a guy who was fun to have a beer with. He didn’t talk down to them. Hare, on the other hand, was viewed as somewhat aloof.

On the day that Hare announced his candidacy, Swainson issued a statement, but it was not quite the announcement that his supporters expected. Before determining his “own future course in public service,” he said, “I hope to confer with representative local leaders throughout Michigan for their helpful counsel.”

Swainson’s statement set off a flurry of rumors that he was considering not making the race. The speculation on his plans had him running instead for secretary of state, or awaiting appointment to a vacant judgeship in return for leaving the field to Hare.

Actually, Swainson had every intention of running. But he could not declare himself immediately. While Hare had everything in place ahead of time — and thus could announce immediately — Swainson needed a little time to get commitments from leaders engaged in the intricate, behind-the-scenes dance that Williams’ announcement had set in motion. The statement was shrewdly calculated to keep any fence sitters from jumping on the Hare bandwagon until Swainson could get the commitments he needed. Most of what he needed was from labor, and labor leaders had talked each other into believing that Williams was going to run again. It was only after Williams had made his announcement that it was possible to discuss their political support in any meaningful way.

There was another reason why Swainson had to quickly take soundings. Neil Staebler and Mennen Williams had privately asked him to sit this one out. As Staebler put it in his memoirs, “Mennen and I tried to arrange a pact between [Swainson and Hare] for an orderly succession to avoid a primary battle. Jim had been in office for six years and was better known statewide, so we endeavored to persuade John to run for lieutenant governor again.”

The vote-getting powerhouse that Staebler had patiently built over twelve years had never had to endure a primary for the governorship. Of course, there had been disputes, including disputes over nominations for statewide office. But they had been settled quietly, behind closed doors, the losers often conciliated with promises of future rewards. Staebler had been able to suppress prolonged public battles that threatened to set factions openly against each other. A gubernatorial primary would be — by definition — a prolonged public battle, and there was no way Staebler could be sure that the party would reunite in time to win the general election.

But John Swainson would not agree to step aside, and Neil Staebler would not — perhaps could not — force him.

One of Swainson’s first talks was with Gus Scholle [leader of the state AFL-CIO]. They met for one and a half hours, privately. No public statement was issued by either man after the meeting, but its purpose neither required nor allowed a public statement. It was probably clear to Scholle by the time of their meeting that a consensus was emerging among top labor leaders and the Democratic Party leadership: during the primary campaign, both groups of leaders would maintain official neutrality. Hare, confident of winning the nomination, had actually asked that the top labor leaders maintain neutrality, fearing that if they endorsed him, his Republican opponent would use those endorsements against him in the general election. But local leaders would remain free to support whom they wished, and this possibility was almost certainly discussed by Scholle and Swainson.

Swainson had already chosen the person to manage his campaign. John “Joe” Collins was a protégé of Neil Staebler, who had recruited him while Collins was a student at the University of Michigan, to unify feuding Democrats in Jackson County, Collins’s home. Collins had accomplished the mission and become chairman of the county party organization. Only twenty-five, and just getting started in the insurance business, Collins had energy, enthusiasm, and few enemies. He had already managed a statewide campaign, for the University of Michigan Board of Regents. He also had a good relationship with Staebler, which could compensate for Staebler’s coolness toward Swainson.

In fact, Collins recalled, “Very quietly back then I got a lot of help from Neil Staebler — just on the names of people who could get the job done, that kind of thing. It was in the context of who would do some work, not necessarily [who] would be for John. I would ask him, for example, ‘Who is good in Cass County?’ if I was going up there the next day.”

The campaign began with no money. Joe Collins recalled:

I went back to Jackson. At that time I had a very good friend, Sam McNally, who was a regent at the University of Michigan. I had managed his campaign for the board of regents and I had met a lot of people in that campaign…He was a farmer, an Andy Griffith type of character. Well, I got Sam and a Republican here in town, Glen Trolls, to put up $900. This was to buy the first handout cards so that John would have something to put in people’s hands as he went around. On the front was a picture of his family and on the back was a biography of John.

On Saturday, March 5, in a dinner speech to the Eaton County Democrats, Swainson announced his candidacy:

Principle and program will matter in the next few years. Experience will be needed in these critical times. Both my legislative and administrative experience have given me the necessary background and qualifications to help guide our state to meet the important and pressing issues of the ’60s. That is why I choose, in all humility, to announce here tonight that I shall seek the Democratic nomination for governor of Michigan.

Three days later The Detroit News published the results of a poll it had commissioned. Market Opinion Research, an experienced polling firm, had conducted the poll at an unspecified date before Mennen Williams had announced his decision not to seek re-election. The poll matched several leading Democrats, including Hare and Swainson, individually against Paul Bagwell, who was considered the likely Republican candidate.

Hare led the field. The poll showed voters preferred him to Bagwell by a margin of 55.1 percent to 42.4 percent, with 2.6 percent expressing no preference. Swainson also led Bagwell, but the margin was much narrower, 49.1 percent to 47.2 percent, with 3.7 percent expressing no preference.

That Hare would come first was no surprise. His name was well known; he had already won three statewide elections. He had avoided supporting his party on a number of divisive issues, and thus his appeal with voters in a general election-style poll.

But Hare and Swainson were not competing in a general election. They were competing in a primary, with very different dynamics than a general election.

As the Detroit Free Press put it, Hare had “deliberately divorced himself from…[Williams in] the tax battle last year [and] in doing so, he alienated large segments of the party who feel that he should have stood behind the governor.”

Hare’s people would try to use the Detroit News poll to show that Hare had the best chance of beating Bagwell (who was clearly headed for renomination against a token opponent). But this was no hindrance. Swainson and his supporters could make the argument that the poll showed that either Hare or Swainson would beat Bagwell, so labor should go with the candidate who best represented its interests, and that was clearly Swainson.

Swainson appears to have recognized from the start that his record on issues important to party and labor activists was his greatest asset. Of nearly equal importance, he was already known and trusted by many local union leaders. Two of these leaders were Russ Leach, head of UAW Tool and Die Local 155, and Harry Southwell, head of UAW Amalgamated Local 174 in the Detroit area. They were strong supporters from early on, and they had the contacts with other local leaders — and knowledge of union politics — to give Swainson the opportunity to cement the support of a broad network of locals, especially in the Detroit metropolitan area. Swainson himself still had to close the sale in each case, but his enthusiasm and energy, as well as his “regular guy” personality, made this task easy. The local leaders could not help but contrast Swainson with the phlegmatic, pipe-smoking Hare.

Eventually, Hare and Swainson were joined in the primary by Ed Connor, a member of the Detroit City Council and former state representative with ties to organized labor. Connor had neither the name recognition nor the statewide contacts of his rivals and was never a major factor in the Democratic race.

The Michigan AFL-CIO invited all three Democratic candidates to address its May convention. Swainson was well received there and benefited from Leach’s political savvy: “Acting on Leach’s instructions,” Swainson “entered the convention hall at the rear and proceeded down the middle aisle. Also following Leach’s direction were several hundred delegates, who immediately pressed toward Swainson from both sides of the aisle with outstretched hands.”

The Ionia Sentinel-Standard reported that “Swainson…was hoisted to the shoulders of two hefty delegates and carried around the convention floor.” According to the Petoskey News Review, “Swainson’s backers stole the show with a noisy, eight-minute demonstration that overshadowed convention introductions of his rivals.”

On July 6 Leach announced that the presidents of nine major Detroit-area locals (including six UAW locals) were formally endorsing Swainson. He predicted that 75 percent of the tri-county (Wayne, Oakland and Macomb Counties, i.e., metropolitan Detroit) labor movement would back Swainson.

After months of preparation, Leach invited 205 Detroit area local union presidents to meet at his local’s union hall on Eight Mile Road on Tuesday, July 12. These leaders represented two-thirds of all the union locals in the Detroit metropolitan area. Leach, Southwell, and Paul Silver (president of UAW Local 351) urged the leaders to push their own locals to formally endorse Swainson.

The result was dramatic. One week after the meeting, Swainson’s campaign announced that twenty-eight locals, with total membership of 108,400, were formally endorsing him.

While Joe Collins organized local groups of supporters around the state, Swainson campaigned. Although his disability prevented him from matching the frenetic pace of Mennen Williams’ early campaigns, he still drove himself doggedly. An example was Saturday, April 23. He began the campaign day with an 11:30 a.m. speech to the Bowling Tournament of the Polish National Alliance in Detroit, then did coffees at four homes in Detroit, one per hour starting at two in the afternoon. At 7:30 p.m. he dropped by a wedding reception in Detroit, then was driven to the downtown Detroit annual banquet of the Detroit Real Estate Brokers Association, where he was a featured speaker.

He left the banquet after his speech and traveled to an officers’ installation ceremony for the Eagles (a Polish service organization) in Grosse Pointe at 9:45. He then made a 10:00 p.m. appearance at a testimonial dance for a Macomb County Democratic leader.

His evening was far from over. He left the dance at 10:45 to go to the annual Spring Frolic of Communications Workers Local 4012 in Pontiac. At 11:45 he left the Frolic to go all the way back to downtown Detroit for an appearance at the annual dance and card party of the Lapeer Parents Association, which he left at 12:45 a.m. to go to the dinner dance of the Southwestern Political Club in Detroit.

Alice Swainson took lessons in public speaking, and hit the campaign trail on her own. On one occasion she was surprised to find herself sharing the stage with Jim Hare and Ed Connor , Swainson’s primary opponents.

On both Memorial Day and July 4 Swainson marched in three local parades. This was, of course, standard practice for politicians, and Swainson did not draw any special attention to himself. But, as his law partner Alan Zemmol put it, “[It] was like walking on stilts. So if he lifted a heavy object or went any kind of long distance, it started to have its effect. And he would do those things, but at great pain.” Rest periods had to be built into his campaign schedules to afford him relief.

In the August 2, 1960, primary election, Hare carried fifty-eight of the eighty-three counties, but Swainson carried all six in the Detroit metro area and won the nomination by 274,473 votes to Hare’s 205,086 (Connor received 60,895 votes).

Looking at the vote totals, Dudley Buffa observed that Swainson’s margin over Hare in Wayne County was greater than his margin over Hare statewide. He concluded: “Wayne County gave Swainson the Democratic nomination; and the secondary leadership of the UAW, set free to follow their own counsel by the union’s policy of non-intervention, gave Swainson Wayne County.”

In the Republican primary, Paul Bagwell, by now unopposed in his second run for governor, received 480,361 votes, slightly more than Swainson and Hare combined. The race was on.

Lawrence M. Glazer grew up in the Detroit area and earned a bachelor’s degree in history from Wayne State University. After graduating from the University of Michigan Law School, he served as a Michigan assistant attorney general for seven years, then engaged in private practice for seven years. In 1982 Glazer served as chief state issues advisor to James Blanchard’s successful campaign for governor, then became special counsel and chief legal advisor to the governor for five years. He served as a state circuit judge, presiding over criminal, civil and divorce trials from 1987 until his retirement in 2003. This is his first book.