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emed to nd even ge. But needing lic pas-r there oilmen t. with itsimpaign resident ild be. id many ustomed and a c-residcnts fervor ifling to ng for”iiling to1 to the McCar-tted heed cru-atter of riion of lolenee. ngorous wlitieal; allies, Vietnam ar that 3ous as and its It was2 knew tie warto the , vhen ims he bstrac-it only nt epf-dcCar-i view-h » he “therearthy’s kia in i, that luge ne he in-\n carlo one 1, and aisingIge in er, or ipaign orderriatcd 2 fact ast inus nibuuusus uy me vemocrauc was to remain in otnce.party, by organized labor, and by all those others who, ae* Ideology was alien to them; so, even in fact, was the hardWISUJU.Ex«New$nmn Pulled « Few Capers for GeneJay Sykes: Right Out of RunyanBy WHITNEY GOULD{Of Tht Capital Times Staff)There is a Runyonesque quality about Jay Sykes, the man who directed Gene McCarthy’s Wisconsin campaign, and whose story of that campaign begins today in The'Capital Times. Short, dark-browed, puckish-faced, he looks like the sort who might let you in confidentially, through billowing cigar smoke, on a sure winner in the fifth race.The real Jay Sykes is a tough-minded idealist, who took his share of gambles in McCarthy’s Wisconsin odyssey but knew what the odds were from the beginning.“That’s why I went into it,” he says, with his wry grin, “I liked the odds. They were so prohibitive.”A former reporter and editorial writer for the Milwaukee Sentinel, he knew, loo, how to use the media, and how to turn inauspicious circumstances to the advantage of his candidate.Capital Times political reporter John Patrick Hunter, who covered the McCarthy campaign from its first rumblings in late 1967 to the end, and who remembers Sykes as “the guy who was always wrestling with boxes of campaign material, struggling aboard a waiting plane,” puts it this way:“He had Intuitive political judgment. He always knew what was going on before any of us sensed what was happening,”“I told everbody from the very beginning that McCarthy would win in Wisconsin,” Sykes recalls, “but I’mnot sure whether I really thought so, or just mesmerized myself. I. think I believed it, though.”’arlaying that half illu-ii into a reality was part the game. And in the end, re was the apocalyptic ifrontalion in Chicago, ich Sykes recalls as akin “t Rotary Club luncheon• -V • • • •*'.The lanky senator from Minnesota stretched out and stroked his chin as he studied a map of Wisconsin with his state campaign director Jay Sykes of Milwaukee, during a campaign flight last March. (AP Wirfephoto)in the middie of W.orld WarI.”“It wasn’t even disillusioning,” he says, “just disgusting and demeaning.” With its outcome preordained, for the McCarthy people “it was just a matter of going through a symbolic act, the playing out of a drama.”“But the race itself,” Sykes says, “was the victory.”enough for Sykes, a Philadelphia native who was the product of a Quaker-run high school and who graduated from Rutgers University in-1942 with a degree in history and political science.When the campaign started, Sykes managed to juggle his political activities with his regular jobs as lecturer in the journalism department at the University0 f Wisconsin-Milwaukee, and chairman of the Wisconsin chapter of the American Civil Liberties Union; (He still holds both positions.)But things got a little hairy as the McCarthy movement picked up. steam. “I once sent some J-school term papers to a McCarthy volunteer, thinking they were campaign materials,” he recalls. “The volunteer thought1 should have given the kid a higher grade ...”He decoded German radio messages for the Army during the war in the Signal Intelligence Services, in England, North Africa, Corsica, and Italy — and two of the officers in his outfit at one point were the Bundy brothers, McGeorge ^nd William. (“They were both snobs, always getting the highest possible scores on intelligence tests,”)*It all started out quietlyOnce out of the ■ service, Sykes served a brief stint on a trade journal in New York City, and in 1950 graduated with a law degree from the University of Washington’s Law School. He practiced law in the Seattle area until •1959, then left the field .“because I couldn’t stand fraternizing with lawyers.”From there he went to Rockland County, N.Y., to edit a weekly paper, and lervcd at the bureau newt editor for the MiddletownRecord. The “bureau” was the Borscht circuit.Sykes worked for the Milwaukee Sentinel from 1963 to 1967 as' a reporter and later. editorial writer, and has been with UW-M ever since, insisting he doesn’t miss the daily frenzy of the city room one bit.He and his wife Katherine have a son, Charlie, 14, who was a McCarthy stalwart and page at the Chicago convention, but later decided the entire McCarthy movement was “divisive.” Charlie now serves as an administrative assistant to the state Young Dem Clubs. His father shrugs and throws up his hands: “At 14, he’s a party hack and I’m the misguided liberal.”Though he is a delegate to the state Democratic convention next month in Stevens Point, Sykes has not been active in the New Democratic Coalition, that group of reform-minded McCarthy and Kennedy supporters who are determined to remake the party from within. “I’m really not a party person,” Sykes insists.- He regards the NDC’s reticence to attach itself to any one standard-bearer, however, as “a healthy tiling.” McCarthy in ’72? Maybe. “If he comes along, we’llconsider him.”In the meantime, there is the whole business of assess-i n g the history-making movement he was a pa^t of.■ One measure'of “the price of lasting fame,” as Sykes puts it, came a week or so-ago, when Sykes was in the Badger Bus Depot in Milwaukee, preparing to ship the manuscript of his McCarthy saga to The Capital Times in Madison,“Are you ihe Sykes that worked for McCarthy last year?” Ihe man behind the counter asked.“Yes,” Sykes answered. “Well, you still owe us some money for the rental of buses.Tiieyhis first against the Pun McCai was sul woman, on his \ Out ol gene Mlt; ance of: suspicioiThe f.came a at Mitel way to held by rity, alt!The t terminal and tele would h primary What: McCartb end up ; tory of 1 It is s. eomfitur hierarch low reg£As I jminal, I chairmaicampaijseemedthere tcIf hethought, was sot might v Dick’s ] As M' Cudahy, the uppi immersi that mii sure to handsha Chain greetingand she small gIn the 1 tried leader I a Demithat thecontestii no olhci‘The c: were no idealists a meeti Wiscons staff. 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Newspaper Details
Madison Capital Times
Madison, Wisconsin, US
Mon, May 26, 1969
Page 23
Full Page
Clipped by
Toledo L.
OH, USA 01 Jan 2023
Other Publications Near Madison, Wisconsin
Madison Wisconsin State Journal
Madison Capital Times
Madison Daily State Journal
Wisconsin Daily Journal
Daily Argus and Democrat
