Symbolizing this new unity was the California Democratic Council, established at Fresno in 1953. The CDC -- an association of volunteer, issue-oriented young professional people -- provided door-bell-pushers and envelope-stuffers to any Democrat who needed help.

But, more importantly, the CDC issued pre-primary endorsements (which county and state party committees are forbidden to do), hoping to end the self-destructive internecine warfare of the previous decades. It was thought that candidates defeated at the CDC convention would quietly withdraw from the primary and for the party.

This year was really the end of this fairly-tale adventure in participatory democracy. In a roaring dispute over the anti-Vietnam war views of CDC president Simon Casady, Brown managed to alienate a good many members of the organization at its Bakers-field convention.

The 50,000 member CDC, no matter what eastern correspondents say about it, is pretty insignificant in California. Statistical studies done by James Q. Wilson, professor of Government, show that CDC-endorsed candidates do no better than unendorsed candidates in both primary and general elections.

What will hurt Brown is losing the volunteer help the CDC could have supplied; and, of course, the coverage the California newspapers gave the raucous CDC convention has convinced many Californians that the party is hopelessly split and incapable of running the state.

The party -- even excluding the CDC -- is in fact so badily splintered, that California reporters speak of it as if it were three parties: the Brown "loyalists," the Yorty "insurgents," and the Unruh "power brokers.'

Those closest to Brown are an assortment of businessmen for whom politics is a practical matter and moderate Democrats who find homey, hard-working Brown the safest choice.

Samuel Yorty, the Los Angeles mayor who is probably the least reliable yet most ambitious Democrat in the state, has yet to declare publicly for either candidate. In the primary, he showed surprisingly well against Governor Brown, picking up a million votes after little or no campaigning.

Although both candidiates are anxious to win Yorty's endorsement and have wooed him at much-publicized political lunches, a Yorty declaration for Brown would probably not have the effect Democrats hope for.

Californians who chose Yorty in the primary are real mavericks who have no party loyalties and would feel no compunctions about helping do Brown in. They are not likely to be influenced even by a word from Yorty; their votes for him were really anti-Brown votes.

They are likely to desert the party completely this year, just as Yorty, their insurrectionlist leader, is apt to desert the party in 1968 to run in the Republican primary against liberal Senate Minority Whip Thomas Kuchel.

Yorty may duck the whole question of endorsement this time around; he will leave this week on a tour of Japan with the Dodgers and will not return until after the November 8 election. He has applied for an absentee ballot.

Jesse Unruh, the speaker of the State Assembly is, at least on the surface, more cooperatve than Yorty. He is Brown's nominal campaign manager, and next to Brown, the most powerful Democrat in the state.

But "Big Daddy" Unruh would like to be Governor in 1970 and probably would not mind having Brown out of the way; he must figure that voters appalled by four years of Reagan Republicanism will be glad to have a Democrat -- like himself -- back in office.

What Unruh wants he usually gets. His allies include state legislators who depend on him for political favors and lobbyists and special interest groups who know he can get legislation through the two houses. He is recognized as a genuine source of power in a state where nonpartisanship has been the rule and patronage practically unknown.