National Affairs: My Fair Lyndon

Jack Kennedy’s choice of Lyndon Johnson as his vice-presidential candidate showed with brilliant clarity his ability to manipulate men and his commander’s talent in using one kind of strategy and set of arguments to win the nomination—and another to win the election.

To win the nomination, he had courted Midwestern and Western Governors and Senators, dangling the vice-presidency, Cabinet jobs and key convention posts before favorite sons’ eyes. But the November election called for a firm alliance with the Solid South to balance Kennedy strength in Roman Catholic industrial centers—and to save Kennedy from Al Smith’s loss of seven Southern states in 1928. So with adding-machine abruptness, the Midwestern and Western romances were broken off.

Go, Go, Go! At one point while going for the nomination, the Kennedys badly wanted the votes of Washington, whose Governor, Albert Rosellini, a Roman Catholic, was cool. So they pitched vice-presidential woo to Washington’s Senator Henry M. (“Scoop”) Jackson, a Presbyterian. “Scoop is my personal choice, and Jack likes Scoop,” said Bobby to a Jackson aide. “You’ve got to give us some pegs to hang our hats on. Go, go, go!” Scoop and his team went, went, went, talking up his vice-presidential prospects until to be anti-Kennedy in the Washington delegation was akin to being treasonably anti-Scoop.

Iowa’s Governor Herschel Loveless and Kansas’ Governor George Docking trod the garden path to Jack’s suite at the Biltmore, ready to ditch their own favorite-son commitments in time to throw their delegates onto the Kennedy train. But Loveless had heard rumors that Minnesota’s Orville Freeman might be the chosen one, and suggested that the whole vice-presidential business be dropped so he could concentrate on running for the U.S. Senate. Jack Kennedy advised Loveless, who is 49, to keep himself in readiness. “It has to be a Midwesterner, Herschel,” said Jack. “Just remember, Orv is younger [42] than you.” Loveless left the room feeling ten feet tall.

Orv Freeman himself practically tore the Minnesota delegation apart to gofor Kennedy—and seriously endangered his own prospects for re-election this fall.

After their meeting, Kennedy told the press with a smile: “Governor Freeman will be in the front line of those considered. Too young? I don’t think youth is a calamity. We’re all going to get over it.” All the while, the forces of Missouri’s Stu Symington were being tempted to abandon the presidential race by well-floated rumors of Stu’s potential vice-presidential strength. Though Symington himself held fast, Missouri’s Governor Jim Blair set the stage for Stu by grabbing the microphone after the presidential balloting and moving for a Kennedy nomination by acclamation. Ohio’s Governor Mike Di Salle, a Kennedy-before-Wis-consin man, urged Symington. So did Chicago’s Mayor Dick Daley, Illinois Democratic boss, who had delivered most of Illinois’ 69 votes for Kennedy. So did Michigan’s “Soapy” Williams.

The Pitch. But Jack Kennedy had other ideas. Early in convention week, and again later on, Washington Post Publisher Phil Graham—a close friend of Lyndon Johnson’s and one of the capital’s most influential men—told Jack that Lyndon might accept the vice-presidential post despite general impressions to the contrary. On the morning after his nomination, Jack made his tentative decision.

“I’m going to see Lyndon,” he told Brother Bobby. “I think we ought to offer it to him, but I don’t think he’ll accept.” From his ninth-floor suite at the Biltmore, Kennedy phoned two floors below to the Johnson suite. Lyndon was asleep, but Lady Bird Johnson woke him. They agreed to meet in Lyndon’s room, where Kennedy made his offer. Then Kennedy returned to the ninth floor and huddled with party big shots—Dick Daley, Soapy Williams, New York’s Mayor Bob Wag ner, Tammany’s Carmine De Sapio, Pennsylvania’s Dave Lawrence and Bill Green, Connecticut’s Governor (and Kennedy strategist) Abe Ribicoff, A.F.L.-C.I.O.’s Walter Reuther. Liberals such as Reuther and Williams were dead set against Johnson, argued hard for Symington. But most of the others, notably Dave Lawrence, were willing to go along with Kennedy.

Jack at length called Lyndon and told him: “I’d like to have you.” Johnson accepted, but he said frankly that he did not want the job, did not like the idea of “trading a vote for a gavel.” He warned that the ticket could hurt Kennedy with Northern liberals, but he assured Kennedy that he was a team player. “I know there is only one boss. That’s you. I’ll take orders and do exactly what you want.” During the next four hours, the Northern liberals indeed began raging with indignation, and Bobby Kennedy had to flip up and down between the ninth and seventh floors like a Yo-Yo, clearing points with Jack and Lyndon, advising Lyndon of still newer opposition and of the possibility of a floor fight.

Said Johnson: “If I’m your choice, I’ll make a fight for it.” At one point, Kennedy himself went to talk to Sam Rayburn. “We’re not a candidate for anything,” said Rayburn.

“But if you want Johnson and Johnson wants it, I’ll go out and provide it. You go and say that you need him and want him.” Said Rayburn to Lyndon: “If he wants you and you want it, it’ll be all right.” “Please!” When the news got out, the Symington people were thunderstruck.

“Partner,” said Missouri’s Jim Blair to a friend, “we’ve just been run over by a steamroller.” A twister of fury spun through the delegations of the Northern and Midwestern states. Snapped an Iowa woman bitterly: “Out where we come from, you take a man at his word. We’ll lose Iowa for sure without a Midwesterner on the ticket.” A Californian buttonholed Massachusetts Congressman John Mc-Cormack. “Please,” she argued plaintively, “you’re ruining the party. This is too cynical. The people will revolt and elect Nixon.” Soapy Williams’ wife Nancy showed her contempt by turning in her Kennedy buttons.

To give the nomination the full professional touch, the Kennedy people arranged to have Pennsylvania Boss Lawrence make the nominating speech and backed it up with seconding speeches by six men representing diverse regions (among them: Chicago’s Negro Congressman William Dawson). Still, the electric charges in the arena shot about like hot neutrons in search of a nucleus. On the call for a voice vote, Michigan’s 152-member delegation—as well as other vociferous liberals—broke into a tumultuous “NO!” Florida’s Governor Collins ruled Lyndon Johnson in by acclamation.

Univac & Unity. By convention’s end, many a delegate had the feeling that he had been whipsawecf by a Univac in a button-down collar. But the Kennedy organization, now renowned for its attention to detail, instantly set about patching up the bruises. Johnson pep-talked a bunch of Negro leaders; Kennedy mollified the liberals by appointing Adlai Stevenson and Chester Bowles to be his agents at White House briefings on foreign affairs (but Ike himself said he would give classified information to nobody but Kennedy or Johnson). Other folks were reminded that, come to think of it, F.D.R., the Northern liberal, had once chosen Texas Conservative John Nance Garner as his running mate (“Garner regretted it the rest of his life,” said a Texan ruefully. “I hope Johnson doesn’t”) and recalled how Adlai Stevenson’s No. 2 man in 1952 was Alabama’s Senator John Sparkman.

In the light of those precedents, the Kennedy-Johnson marriage did not seem so astonishing after all. Thus, as in most instances of sock-and-swat Democratic brawls, the bright sun of unity shone down on the happy pair as they hopped onto their steamroller and gaily left town for their honeymoon.