I was disappointed with Price -- for the same reason I'd been disappointed all week with Nixon. In various ways they both assumed that I -- and all the other reporters -- would fail to understand that Nixon was not only being evasive with regard to Vietnam that week but that he was doing it deliberately and for good reason. George Romney's campaign was obviously on its last legs; New Hampshire was sewed up for Nixon, and the best way to maintain that lead was to stay visible and say nothing more controversial than “God Bless America.” Romney tried desperately to provoke an argument, but Nixon ignored every challenge.

Nixon did confess that he had a way to end the war, but he wouldn't tell how. Patriotically he explained why: “No one with this responsibility who is seeking office should give away any of his bargaining positions in advance.” (Nixon's wife, Pat, has confidence in his ability to cope with Vietnam. “Dick would never have let Vietnam drag on like this,” she says.)

Both Romney and McCarthy had their Manchester headquarters at the Wayfarer, an elegant, woodsy motel with a comfortable bar and the best dining room in the area. Nixon's Holiday Inn command post was on the other side of town, a grim-looking concrete structure. I asked one of Nixon's advisers why they had chosen such a dreary place. “Well,” he replied with a smile, “our only other choice was the Wayfarer -- but we left that for Romney when we found out that it's owned by one of the most prominent political operators in the state -- a Democrat, of course.” He chuckled. “Yeah, poor George really stepped into that one.”

Nixon's pros had won another point; there was nothing newsworthy about it, but those who mattered in the state political hierarchy understood, and they were the people Nixon needed to win New Hampshire. Small victories like this add up to delegates. Even before the votes were counted in New Hampshire, GOP strategists said Nixon had already gathered more than 600 of the 667 votes he would need to win the nomination.