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Like many a well-dressed political boss, New York’s Carmine De Sapio wears a velvet glove over his hard fist: his public utterances are usually soothing; he rarely shows irritation or displeasure. But last week De Sapio, sore beset by the so-called reform insurgents, who seek to unseat him as New York Democratic national committeeman and leader of Tammany Hall, struck out at his tormentors. In this year’s New York City mayoralty campaign, De Sapio promised, his regular Democrats will “oppose and oust these self-styled leaders who seek to rule or ruin the party . . . It is time that we strip these masqueraders of the uniform of the Democratic Party under which they parade, and expose them for what they are—self-seeking and deluded demagogues.”

Hesitation. The bitter words marked De Sapio’s first public declaration in the guerrilla war that has split New York Democrats for two years. And the De Sapio statement was a direct challenge to the Democratic likes of Eleanor Roosevelt, Herbert Lehman and Thomas K. Finletter, all leaders in the anti-De Sapio movement. Retorted Lehman: “The reform leaders will, of course, not be frightened by this formal declaration of war by a boss whose political troops have grown fewer and fewer.”

Caught right in the middle was poor Mayor Bob Wagner, long a De Sapio protégé, who is in desperate need of the reformers’ support if he is to have the slightest chance of reelection. But the reformers were by no means eager to support Wagner; indeed, nine reform clubs representing three-quarters of the reform membership in Manhattan openly oppose him and his corruption-ridden administration. Facing political crisis, Wagner resolutely promised to answer De Sapio’s challenge and to break openly with his old sponsor. After three days, though, Wagner was still hesitating—a maneuver in which he excels—and the best he had been able to manage was a limp “Yes, there is a rift.” Adding to his troubles was Wagner’s inability to decide on a man to fill Manhattan’s borough presidency, automatically vacated when Hulan Jack was convicted and received a suspended sentence on charges of conflict of interest and conspiracy to obstruct justice. Still hesitating, Wagner postponed an election meeting with Manhattan councilmen, using the weather as an excuse. Outcome of this week’s snow-checked meeting, with both Wagner and De Sapio predicting victory for their candidates, was pretty foggy.

Humiliation. In Washington, President Kennedy was plainly disgusted with the whole New York situation. Sure to be cut off from nearly all federal patronage under the Kennedy Administration, De Sapio and his chief lieutenant, State Chairman Mike Prendergast, had suffered humiliations at the Kennedy inaugural, where they were pointedly snubbed (gloated one reform Democrat: “They just wandered around the lobby of the Mayflower Hotel like a couple of farm boys”). But Kennedy was far from ready to trust in Bob Wagner’s ability to solve New York’s Democratic problems. At his press conference last week, Kennedy said: “Well, the people in New York have to make their judgments as to what kind of a party they want to build there. I have asked Mr. [John M.] Bailey, the new chairman of the Democratic Party, to lend a helping hand in attempting to alleviate some of the distress.” The dry quality of this Kennedy understatement drew guffaws from the reporters—followed by the President’s appreciative smile.

But even for so skilled a troubleshooter as Connecticut’s Bailey, there seemed to be no prospect of avoiding a blood-sapping battle in the mayoralty primaries next spring—a prospect that delights New York Republicans. An even headier G.O.P. prospect was the possibility that the 64,000-member Liberal Party—usually a rubber stamp for Democratic candidates—might refuse to back Wagner for a third term.

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