Drafting Lyndon Johnson: The President's Secret Role in the 1968 Democratic Convention.

NELSON, JUSTIN A.

This article argues that contrary to perceived wisdom, President Lyndon Johnson wanted to be drafted by the 1968 Democratic convention. Johnson and his aides covertly planned all aspects of the convention, from the amount of space allotted to each candidate to the speech that he would give at the convention on his birthday. Although Johnson withdrew from the race in March, he controlled the convention in order to allow himself the opportunity to run again. Ultimately, although his control of the contention enabled him to pass his platform, he was not drafted because neither the old party bosses nor the new forces emerging within the Democratic Party wanted Johnson as their nominee.

Bolingbroke: Are you contented to resign the crown? Richard: Ay, no; no, ay: for I must nothing be. Therefore no, no, for I resign to thee.

-Richard II 4.1.199-201

"Accordingly, I shall not seek-and will not accept-the nomination of my party for another term as your president." When Lyndon Johnson spoke these words on March 31, 1968, he shocked both his friends and enemies by taking himself out of the bitter struggle for the Democratic nomination. Instead, he declared, he would rise above the petty partisan struggles engulfing the country: he would be a man above politics, disinterested in everything except the well-being of the nation. On April 1, the Washington Post editorialized that the president's "personal sacrifice in the name of national unity ... entitles him to a very special place in the annals of American history" (Califano 1991,270). Johnson could now work to solve the myriad and complex problems facing him without regard to his own political health. The entire nation, so overjoyed at the president's withdrawal statement, could relax. Johnson's career had ended. His decision-one that the whole world had head-was irrevocable. Or so they thought.

While Johnson's withdrawal statement might have sounded unequivocal, it was not. Johnson orchestrated a secret plan to control the 1968 Democratic convention in order to keep his options open, including the possibility that the convention might draft him. From the White House, a nominally disinterested Johnson constructed an organization, opened up back channels of communication, manipulated other candidates, and ultimately tried to coordinate every detail of the convention. Johnson wanted to delay making a final decision about whether he would decide to be drafted until after the convention had begun. Despite his final decision not to attend the convention, he orchestrated a grand welcome there. Even though he had withdrawn from the race five months earlier, as the Democrats convened their convention in Chicago, Johnson wanted his party to draft him.

Robert Dallek (1998) has recently argued that Johnson toyed with the idea of allowing himself to be drafted for the nomination after Robert Kennedy's death during the primary season. Because Dallek presents little evidence of how Johnson intended to be renominated, the Johnson of Dallek's book comes across as a person engaged merely in wishful thinking. Dallek chronicles Johnson's machinations about whether to reenter the political fray as half-hearted, lackluster, and without great thought. The truth, however, is far different. Johnson was able to respond to the ever-changing political atmosphere of 1968 because he kept his options open until the last possible second. His political apparatus let him reconsider the possibility of entering the presidential race until the Democratic convention itself. The depth of Johnson's plan and his continued ability to control events from behind the scenes show Johnson in a different light. Even in 1968, at the nadir of his presidency, Johnson remained the master politician. Even in defeat, he knew when to press his agenda, how to win battles over policy, and how to give himself the ability to reconsider his decision of March 31. Most startling of all, he did almost all of this work hidden from public view, with the pretense that he was above politics.

The ultimate failure of Johnson's draft movement reflects the fact that the political environment had not changed significantly since Johnson's original withdrawal announcement in March. Johnson had hoped that the nation and the party would clamor for his leadership once again. Johnson's attempts to control the Democratic convention show that he still retained his political genius by being able to set the agenda for the Democratic Party while he gave himself the ability to re. enter the fray if he so chose. Johnson's ultimate decisions not to go to Chicago and not to reenter the nomination battle illuminate how he retained his political mastery until the end of his presidency. Ultimately, he decided not to run after realizing that he probably would not receive the nomination even if his followers placed his name in contention. Rather than risk jeopardizing his public persona as a statesman above the fray of politics, he decided that the wiser move was to act as if he were never involved with any aspect of the convention. The reality, however, shows that Johnson was not the removed figure he claimed to be. He worked behind the scenes not only to ensure that the party platform reflected his own political beliefs but also to enable himself to consider whether he wanted to reenter the presidential race.

While on March 31 Johnson might have believed wholeheartedly that his best and only recourse was to withdraw from the presidential race, the levers of power proved too hard to relinquish so easily. Johnson's secret organization, left over from his original presidential bid in early 1968, was originally maintained only to maintain his influence on the Democratic convention and the platform; gradually, however, it morphed into a group whose purpose was grander in its ambition--to draft the president himself. As the convention approached, Johnson thought that perhaps the best way to unify the nation was to continue as president; maybe he was not as divisive a figure as he had been. Conceivably, the convention could call for his leadership during this time of crisis. Would he have any other choice than to accept? Despite Johnson's denials at the time, he and his aides played a large role in planning and controlling the convention, with an eye toward orchestrating a draft that would call Johnson to lead the country once again.

At 9:01 P.M. on March 31, 1968, Johnson began his speech in which he announced a partial bombing halt in Vietnam and offered to engage in peace talks with North Vietnam and Ho Chi Minh. The words slowly scrolled by on the teleprompter in front of him until he finally arrived at the last section. Perhaps he had not decided whether he would read those words at the start of the speech, but by the time he reached his peroration he took a seemingly irrevocable path. Johnson declared, "I do not believe that I should devote an hour or a day of my time to any personal partisan causes or to any duties other than the awesome duties of this office--the presidency of this country." He paused for a moment, then he started, "Accordingly, I shall not seek ..." (Goldman 1969, 512).

As soon as Johnson finished his withdrawal announcement, he and his family left the Oval Office and walked down the colonnade. As he stopped to invite his personal secretary Marie Fehmer to dinner, he noticed the television in the background. Curious, he inquired, "What are they saying?" He decided to return to his little room by the Oval Office to watch all three networks simultaneously. Lady Bird Johnson and their two daughters Lynda and Luci followed. Johnson could finally relax; he no longer had to worry about his future in the presidential race.(1)

While the president and his family watched television, people called the White House to express their shock and disbelief. At 9:46, fewer than twenty minutes after his speech ended, Johnson left his little office and walked to the lounge to talk on the phone. As Vice President Hubert Humphrey and Governor John Connally held on other lines, Johnson decided that the first person with whom he should talk on the phone after his announcement was Chicago Mayor Richard Daley. In a three-minute conversation, Daley expressed shock that "my president" would resign from office. Daley declared, "We're going to draft you."(2) While Johnson undoubtedly laughed off Daley's suggestion, he at least recognized from the very moment of his withdrawal announcement that a possibility of a draft still existed.

In the days that followed, Johnson showed a surprising lack of enthusiasm for the candidacy of his vice president, Humphrey. Humphrey had declared for the presidency on April 27, 1968, less than one month after Johnson's withdrawal announcement. Most politicos believed that Johnson would give all of his support to Humphrey, but they were wrong. Johnson and Humphrey had a good working relationship.(3) Their friendship together stretched back more than a decade, when both were members of the Senate. In spite of this long-standing cordiality, however, Johnson had decidedly mixed feelings with regard to Humphrey's candidacy. Johnson remarked to one person that Humphrey "cries too much." To another he said, "Hubert's just too old-fashioned. He looks like, he talks like he belongs in the past." Ironically, he added that Humphrey did not understand the changes going on in the country (White 1969, 278). Over a period of months, Johnson made a series of disparaging and contemptuous comments about his vice president (White 1969, 278).

In April, Johnson ordered his cabinet and other members of the executive branch not to engage in any political activity for any candidate for president (Christian 1970, 164).(4) Members of Johnson's executive branch could work for nobody but Johnson. Because Johnson was no longer a candidate, he forbade staff members to engage in any form of campaigning or other political activities. Joseph Califano (1991), a senior White House aide at the time, wrote, "[Johnson] was possessed as never before by a need to be confident of the loyalty of his aides and cabinet secretaries. And he was ambivalent about the candidacy of Hubert Humphrey" (p. 289). Johnson's policy also conveniently kept open the option that members of the executive branch could eventually work on Johnson's behalf if and when he chose to reenter the race.

Johnson's reaction to political endorsements reflected how seriously he took the ban. Several cabinet members planned to attend Humphrey's announcement because they did not realize the extent of Johnson's feelings on the subject (Califano 1991, 291). When Johnson read a wire service report that Secretary of Agriculture Orville Freeman had endorsed the vice president, he was fuming. He raged to Califano, "I can't have the government tom apart by cabinet officers and presidential appointees fighting among themselves about Kennedy, McCarthy, and Humphrey." He then added that they should either "stay out of the race or get out of government." Secretary Freeman resisted Johnson's moves, claiming that he was a longtime friend of Humphrey's and a fellow Minnesotan. The next day, Undersecretary of Agriculture John Schnittker endorsed Kennedy. When Johnson found out, he ordered Califano to call every cabinet member and the vice president. He wanted to remind them that his March 31 speech precluded the presidency from becoming involved in "partisan divisions," which meant "no statements of support and no staff work and no activities of any kind for any candidate for President."(5)

Before Califano could finish making his calls, a news organization reported that Assistant Secretary of Agriculture John Baker had declared for Humphrey. When Johnson read this report, he shouted that he wanted "Freeman, Schnittker, and John Baker on the line at once and at the same time." He was so livid that nobody, not even the White House switchboard operators, could understand what he was saying at first. Because Freeman and Schnittker were traveling in the air at the time, only Baker came on the phone line. Baker, who had been appointed by John Kennedy and had never spoken to Johnson before, listened to a tirade from Johnson in which the president castigated Baker for violating a presidential order (Califano 1991,292).(6) Other members of the executive branch learned quickly: do not mix government and politics.

At this early point, Johnson was probably not posturing himself for a potential draft; rather, he was just expressing his belief that he was still the most qualified and capable person to serve as president. Moreover, a diminution of Humphrey's strength would help Johnson preserve his own political capital for the negotiations over the platform and the Democratic convention.

During the period between the withdrawal announcement on March 31 and the Democratic convention itself on August 26, the White House carefully maintained the false appearance that neither Johnson nor his aides were involved in planning the convention. Johnson's involvement in political affairs would mean that he had reimmersed himself in partisan politics. By disregarding part of his March 31 statement, he would discredit his entire announcement, including his withdrawal.

Johnson and the White House tried diligently to prevent the press and the public from finding out the extent of presidential involvement. When columnist Merriman Smith,(7)one of the deans of the White House press corps, was about to report on May 20 that Johnson had been involved in planning details of the Democratic convention, the White House went into a rapid response mode to convince him not to print the report. Johnson himself wanted a report within fifteen minutes of first learning about the planned article.(8) Ninety minutes later, aide Tom Johnson finally succeeded in finding Smith. Tom Johnson told him, "The president has not been involved in planning for the national convention, the president hasn't talked to Mayor Daley about it, [and] the president hasn't asked that nuts and bolts planning be submitted to him for approval." Smith disagreed, stating, "Tom, you're wrong.... Four days ago, the president made a decision and approved plans affecting the convention. This man I talked with showed me some things, some plans." Tom Johnson concluded, "It looks as though somebody has filled Smitty in very well. We do not know who it is, but Smitty is not the type of correspondent who writes this type of story without hard facts and a good source."(9)

Johnson, in fact, had been planning the convention. At once he tried to find the source in order to stop future leaks. Aide Larry Temple confronted two senior Johnson men, Horace Busby and George Christian, asking whether they had leaked the documents to Smith. Temple told Johnson, Buzz [Busby] said that he had not talked with Merriman Smith in two years on any subject. Moreover, he knows nothing whatsoever about the convention [or] the plans for it.... George said essentially the same thing Buzz did. He said he knew absolutely nothing about these plans or any conversation relating to them.... He said further that even if he did know anything in this area, he would have recognized the sensitiveness of the subject and would not have talked with anyone about it.(10)

The hunt for suspects moved from the White House to Chicago. Jim Jones, the appointments secretary, talked to John Criswell, the treasurer of the Democratic National Committee and chairman of the Democratic convention. Before Johnson's withdrawal from the race, Criswell was one of the key figures in the fledgling Johnson campaign. In fact, the entire campaign apparatus-the Rowe-Criswell operation-was partly named after him." When Jones called him, Criswell denied leaking the information. Jones reported that Criswell would also refute the substance of the article: The president was not helping to coordinate the convention, Criswell would say, although he knew better. Jones told Tom Johnson, "He will deny that the story is accurate. Criswell will also try to find out if any people at the convention have been talking."(12) The secrecy about the convention persisted because President Johnson was not supposed to be involved in its planning. After all, the presidency and the executive branch were now above "partisan politics." In reality, the president and his staff took an active role in shaping the convention. As much as Johnson might have wanted to stay above politics, all of his instincts were primed for battle.

Moreover, the dynamics of the race had changed drastically. Johnson saw Humphrey struggling for votes, recognition, and credibility. Eugene McCarthy and Kennedy battled in state after state for delegates. On June 4, it looked as if Kennedy would become the favorite for the nomination after winning the California primary. After giving his victory speech in the ballroom of the Ambassador Hotel in Los Angeles, he was shot and killed by an assassin as he walked through the hotel kitchen. The presumptive nominee had been killed. The Democratic Party was in turmoil, waiting for a savior to unite both the party and the country.(13)

Neither Humphrey nor McCarthy had the charisma, appeal, or political skills of either Johnson or Kennedy. By the middle of June, Johnson's finely tuned political ear began to hear a different song from many in the Democratic Party: Humphrey was vulnerable and

McCarthy was unacceptable.(14) McCarthy was too much of a dove on Vietnam; Humphrey seemed tentative at best about supporting Johnson's hard-line position.

Humphrey needed to tread carefully on Vietnam. If he strayed from Johnson's policy of keeping the United States actively involved, he would incur Johnson's wrath and the possibility of losing the president's support. In addition, the fact that Humphrey served as vice president to a strong president meant that he had little opportunity to develop his own style and stances. The chairman of the Democratic National Committee still recognized Johnson as "the senior member and leader of our party."(15)

In this political vacuum, pressure increased for Johnson to reconsider his decision to withdraw. On June 11, he received a memo from Tom Johnson summarizing the view of Richard Moose, a former member of the National Security staff: Dick said he is of the opinion that the President should be prepared to accept the nomination of the Democratic Party.... He said he had talked with many young people ... who are convinced that the President is he only man who can keep the country on the move after January. He doesn't think Humphrey can beat Nixon, and unless the President runs, Nixon will be President.(16)

Other contacts throughout the country sent the same message to Johnson.(17)

President Johnson's activities during these months of June, July, and August demonstrate that he was more than just an interested observer in the convention; rather, he charted every single event, from the wording of the platform to the choice of who should sit in box seats. Johnson received his information from a variety of sources. In addition to his regular network of loyal supporters, Johnson picked as executive director of the Democratic convention his trusted friend Criswell. Criswell was uniquely suited to this task, bringing expertise from the shortened Johnson reelection campaign and insider knowledge from his current post as treasurer of the Democratic National Committee. In the Rowe-Criswell operation, James Rowe, the first half of the duo, was to have been the public head of the organization.(18) Criswell was to have played a different role in Johnson's reelection. He would have worked behind the scenes, coordinating the activity between the Johnson campaign and the Democratic National Committee.

After Johnson's March 31 announcement, the Rowe-Criswell operation changed drastically. Rowe no longer had a role to play, since he had been too public a figure as head of the abortive Johnson campaign. Criswell, by contrast, was still useful to Johnson because he was affiliated with the Democratic National Committee rather than the terminated presidential run. Therefore, instead of playing an active role in the presidential campaign, Criswell became the executive director of the Democratic convention. This extremely powerful position allowed Criswell, and by extension Johnson, to direct all aspects of the convention.

Few people ever knew the extent of Johnson's involvement in the Democratic convention, including most of his aides. Although many of his longtime staffers

might have presumed that something was afoot, especially after the manhunt that he conducted in late May to find the leaker of sensitive convention material, only a select group of aides knew of the behind-the-scenes planning for the convention. Chief among them was Johnson's former Chief of Staff Marvin Watson. Johnson had appointed Watson as postmaster general immediately after his withdrawal announcement. Still an intimate of Johnson's, Watson played a crucial role in convention activities.

Watson coordinated the 1964 Democratic convention in Atlantic City, one that ran flawlessly despite the challenge of the Mississippi Freedom Democratic Party. Watson and Johnson both thought that they could control the 1968 convention just as they had managed the 1964 convention. The 1964 event was choreographed by Watson. It even included a birthday tribute to Johnson. Watson's relationship with Johnson, his political background, and his previous role as the manager of the 1964 convention all ensured that he would play a large role at the 1968 convention.

Jones, another top Johnson aide, also figured prominently in the convention planning. Jones inherited many of the same tasks that Watson performed before becoming postmaster general, and he acted as the contact person between the Democratic National Convention and Johnson. Criswell, in effect, reported to him. Jones also worked closely with another member of the White House, staff, Temple. Temple had inherited some of Watson's portfolio as well and was a close aide to Johnson.

By mid June, Johnson and this small group of people worked in concert with Daley to create a convention program. The Chicago mayor felt that the Democratic convention should pay tribute to Senator Kennedy.(19) Jones understood the sensitivity of staging a tribute for Kennedy. Jones ordered Criswell to plan the tribute after the Democrats would pick their presidential nominee.(20) Afraid that a tribute to Kennedy before the nomination might provoke a spontaneous display of affection for Ted Kennedy, Jones worried about a draft movement for the only surviving Kennedy brother. The convention could only have one successful draft movement, and Jones wanted to ensure that the best conditions existed for a possible Johnson draft.

Ten days later, Criswell informed Jones: "The question of the program for the Convention, from timing to who appears when, is really beginning to steam up."(21) A question hung over the Democratic convention planning: Should the president appear at the convention? Scheduled from Monday, August 26, until Thursday, August 29, the convention's second night was Johnson's sixtieth birthday. This, Criswell thought, was the best time for a presidential appearance.(22) He wrote, "My own feeling is that on Tuesday night, we should have quite a night of tribute to the President ... and (he should) come out that night."(23) He did not mention that Johnson's appearance on Tuesday night would be the evening before the vote on the presidential nomination, the perfect time for a draft.

The White House and Criswell also began to draft a convention platform, although Johnson was careful not to look like the mastermind. Throughout the entire summer, Johnson denied that he was interested in or even knew about the platform; to suggest otherwise would imply the extent of his control over the convention. Johnson and his staff tracked every platform development.(24)

The decisions about the details of the platform had moved from Criswell's office in Chicago to the White House by the beginning of July. Califano, Johnson's main speechwriter and chief domestic policy aide, supervised the project. He told the president, The draft will be in two parts: An accounting of your stewardship, to reflect the accomplishments of the last four years (and) proposals for the future.... The draft will follow administration policy and build on it in those areas where appropriate. We should have a draft for you to look at in about ten days.(25)

If any doubt still existed about who was really running the convention, Califano's memo eradicated it. The most sensitive document at the convention, the platform, contained the hopes and aspirations of the thousands of antiwar activists who wanted to change the platform's Vietnam plank to reflect the antiwar, antiadministration position. Califano's memo was clear and unequivocal: "The draft will follow administration policy." Although Johnson maintained he wanted to stay above the fray, his vow to stay out of partisan politics rings especially hollow after Califano wanted to use the platform to reflect Johnson's accomplishments. Moreover, Johnson and his aide drafted "proposals for the future." Califano's proposal for a draft platform looks like nothing less than the foundation for Johnson's candidacy.

As Califano and his aides worked on a platform draft, Johnson prepared for a special presentation during the Democratic convention: a film about his administration. The film would comprehensively review all of Johnson's accomplishments as president. It would start and end with Johnson at his Texas ranch, culminating with a "personal, even philosophical, statement from the president to use as voice over." In fact, the only thing wrong with the film was the length: it needed to be cut it from thirty-eight minutes to a proposed twenty-eight minutes.(26) Other than that, the film seemed to be a cinematic and political tour de force.

Johnson would appear as a president, a commander-in-chief, an American, and a human. To add a recognizable and trustworthy voice to the film, actor Gregory Peck was employed as narrator.(27) This $125,000 work, paid for by the Democratic National Committee, would capture the glory of the Johnson administration (Chester, Hodgson, and Page 1969, 539). Perhaps it would even persuade the delegates to keep Johnson as president for four more years.

Johnson's role at the Democratic convention was clear: he was the ultimate decision maker. In late July, Criswell requested a meeting with Johnson to discuss the convention. He and the chairman of the Democratic National Committee, John Bailey, wanted Johnson's approval on certain key details about the convention. Criswell wrote, "Chairman Bailey has several points concerning the Convention he would like to go over with The President-the co-chairmen for the various committees, sections of the program concerning candidates addressing the convention."(28) Everything of major consequence required Johnson's knowledge and approval.

Johnson and his aides also focused on the possibility of Ted Kennedy's being drafted. At the end of July, Criswell reported that Daley had agreed with the statement that "Ted Kennedy would be a help to the ticket." Daley, who had been a loyal Johnson man, made a comment that was a "shock" to the White House. Daley uttered almost inaudibly, "I hope the convention drafts [Kennedy]."(29)

Nonetheless, Criswell remained optimistic about Johnson's chances and the possibility of receiving Daley's support. He wrote to Jones, "I feel certain [Daley] doubts the Vice President's pulling power and I find his national view rather limited, especially as it concerns the south. In the several conversations and a long lunch with him [Daley] last week he is consistently mentioning the President [sic] and favorably."(30) Criswell failed to comprehend why anyone would support either Kennedy or Humphrey. In effect, Criswell was telling the White House that Daley thought that Johnson was the only Democrat still left who could win the election.

Criswell concluded by telling the White House that Daley still supported Johnson: "I would assess his position now (I hope not naively) to be pro-Johnson, but increasingly concerned whether the candidates now in the field and the dirth [sic] of Vice Presidential timber can get the job done."(31) Criswell thought that Daley viewed Johnson as the savior of the Democratic ticket. If none of "the candidates now in the field" could win, Johnson's path to the draft became a logical conclusion for everyone who wanted the Democrats to triumph in November. Thus, by late July, the secret messages between the White House and Chicago had begun a subtle transformation from convention planning to calculations about Johnson's own political chances for nomination.

Immediately after this assessment of Johnson's chances, the White House and a mysterious man named Bert engaged in a confidential discussion about a sensitive topic: a secret plan for Johnson's appearance at the convention. On August 9, three weeks before the convention was to start, Jones received a long and detailed memo outlining how best to choreograph Johnson's convention activities. Bert sent the memo. No last name and no other information appears: just Bert. Bert's existence, his duties, his relationship with the White House, and even his full name have never been revealed. Stamped "confidential," the memo is amazing both for its scope and its specificity: August 9, 1968 In my judgment, the President should come to the convention, and I would propose the following: During the next week to ten days he should receive open-ended invitations from Daley, the Arrangements Committee, and others asking him to attend, without any specific time. The convention program should be made and announced with no indication of a Presidential appearance.... Every indication should be given that he isn't planning to be here, and this followed up to the time he leaves the ranch enroute.... I have always hoped the President could make his appearance on Tuesday night. It's just the right time. We will have the experience of the weekend and the opening day of the convention to assess our problems. While we are preparing for the worst on the riot and marcher front, I think experience is that their predictions don't often materialize in the predicted size. We will also have had the Monday night experience with the McCarthy people who are delegates and could better assess their militancy. Then--on Tuesday morning--we could make firm recommendations and we would not even need to know the decision until take-off from the ranch. We would be flexible enough with the program so that it could be broken at whatever point for the President. The short notice need not hamper the liveliness of the welcome, since signs can be made now and stored for distribution a few minutes before arrival. If conditions permit, the ideal thing would be a fireworks display along the lakefront which the President could watch from one of the big suites atop the Conrad Hilton.... The President and party could be airlifted from the amphitheater [site of the Convention] to near the hotel and taken to one of the suites. There would need be no announcement that it would even happen until after the President's arrival. The Mayor could announce it at the end of the President's remarks. Or, if security reasons dictate, that part of the event need never be announced. An appearance and birthday celebration on Tuesday night would be the ideal.... There is no question in my mind that the President should attend the convention and that he will be pleased, perhaps even surprised, by the reception.... Others would then join in saying they think it is appropriate for the convention to hear from the President, the man who built the record on which the Party would have to campaign this fall.(32)

This one document, so elaborate in detail, presents a plan for the president that was followed almost exactly until the point of Johnson's departure for Chicago. Johnson could wait to decide whether to go to Chicago until the Tuesday of the convention. Most of the details would already have been planned, however. Johnson would stay at the Conrad Hilton, speak on Tuesday night, and have an elaborate birthday celebration that night. A fireworks display would cap the evening.

The only possible flaw in Bert's plans was the antiwar demonstrations. Bert had a clear strategy for them: the "experience of the weekend and the opening day of the convention" would let them assess the magnitude of the problem.(33) It was a trivial matter anyway, Bert concluded: "While we are preparing for the worst on the marcher front, I think experience is that their predictions don't often materialize in the predicted size."(34) Bert misjudged the emotional appeal the protesters would have, however. The enduring image of the convention would not be that of a triumphant Johnson watching a fireworks display along the lakefront from the Conrad Hilton; instead, it would be the fireworks on the streets directly in front of the Conrad Hilton. Those antiwar demonstrators whom Bert had dismissed so casually would seize center stage.

That same day, Bert told Jones that Daley wanted Johnson to come to the convention. Daley said, "He shouldn't be down in Austin or somewhere when the convention is going on. He should come here and let us whoop it up like it should be. I have always thought he should come here on his birthday ... that's the right time for him to come." He added, "But I'd really like to do it up right with a birthday party, fireworks and all."(35)

Bert also relayed Daley's opinion about another sensitive matter: drafting the president. Daley told Bert, "I think he is afraid to come on Tuesday night because he's afraid we'll draft him-and that's what I'm for." Daley reiterated, "And I'm for a draft, and I'll start it if there is any chance he will do it."(36) Daley's words must have provided tremendous relief for Johnson. Daley remained loyal. Johnson could disregard Daley's flirtation with Ted Kennedy.

Daley was one of the most important figures at the convention because he was the boss of Illinois politics and mayor of Chicago, host city for the convention. His political machine kept reelecting him as mayor and his cronies as congressmen, senators, and governor. Significantly, the Democratic convention allowed state delegations to cast all their votes in one block, since Daley controlled Illinois.

This mechanism, called the unit rule, consolidated power in the hands of a few key leaders. The rest of the delegation served almost solely for show; they had no power to control their own votes. Other states, especially southern states, also used the unit rule. While not all states voted according to the unit rule, enough delegations used it so that the image of stodgy men deciding the fate of the party in smoke-filled rooms rang true. The use of the unit rule would figure prominently in Johnson's draft, since Johnson's style of politics focused on the few rather than the many. While he could persuade individual bosses to vote for him, he might face trouble if instead he had to make a mass appeal to the delegates themselves.

With the convention now rapidly approaching, the planning became frenzied. The supposedly impartial Criswell knew that Johnson, not the Democratic National Convention, was his real boss, and he acted accordingly. On August 12, Criswell informed the White House about Humphrey's requests for the convention. Humphrey needed more floor passes and more phones, along with about five hundred seats equally split between the gallery and the box level.(37) Criswell gave Humphrey campaign personnel unpleasant and unexpected news, telling them to expect only 2 percent of what they wanted. Criswell turned down Humphrey even as he informed the White House of Humphrey's every move.

The mysterious Bert also kept the White House informed, in a style similar to Criswell's. The same day Criswell told Humphrey the unhappy news, Bert sent mother memo to Jones, on the exact same stationery Criswell had just used. Bert reported, Yesterday afternoon and today I have worked with a Mr. Don O'Brien who represents George McGovern. The original call for space for them came more than a week ago ... and it was for one suite and a few rooms.... That has changed considerably.... It is a rather expensive operation.... They have asked for floor phones comparable to what the other candidates get ... I can only conclude that this is a Kennedy stand-in or holding action.(38)

Bert alerted Johnson to important news: he might have some competition for the draft. Johnson was not the only undeclared candidate mulling the possibility of entering the race.

Who was Bert and why would he use a code name? No White House staffer was named Bert, nor did any White House aide have a name that could be condensed to Bert. Bert was a pseudonym, a cover for someone else, demonstrating the lengths to which Johnson and the White House went to maintain the facade of noninvolvement in the Democratic convention. The style of the memo, as well as the fact that Bert wrote on Democratic National Committee stationery, suggests that Bert was Criswell.

Jones confirms this fact: "Criswell probably was Bert."(39) Criswell's middle name was Bert, so he used this name for ultrasensitive communication with the White House. While the documents bearing Criswell's real name focused mainly on details, those signed Bert dealt with material so sensitive that it would destroy Johnson's contention that he was not involved in the Democratic convention.

The emergence of Bert coincided with Johnson's renewed interest in receiving the nomination. Bert wrote to Johnson about the politics and strategy of each of the candidates, and assessed Johnson's own chances of receiving the nomination. Jones states that Criswell used the name Bert because of the possibility of a leak that would prove Criswell was working on such an intimate level with the White House.(40) The mere fact that Criswell felt he needed to use a code name illuminates the level of secrecy involved in convention planning, the importance of Bert/Criswell's information, and the covert nature of the entire Johnson operation at the convention. Criswell, who in the beginning of 1968 was co-head of Johnson's presidential operation, had resumed his role of helping to coordinate Johnson's campaign for the presidency.

As Bert gathered secret information during this preconvention period, the Soviet Union invaded Czechoslovakia. Even as McCarthy declared the situation "not a major crisis," Johnson summoned a meeting of the National Security Council (Chester, Hodgson, and Page 1969, 532). After the meeting, he chatted privately with Humphrey. The conversation did not go well. Humphrey drew Johnson's ire because of his vacillation on the Vietnam issue. Johnson told Humphrey he was inadequate to be president, too soft on foreign policy, and "stretching the patriotism of men like John Connally to the limit" (White 1969, 278; Reston 1989, 359).

The invasion of Czechoslovakia had major repercussions for the presidential race. In addition to weakening Humphrey, it gave substantial short-term benefits to Johnson, further convincing Johnson of the need for a strong platform statement on Vietnam. Johnson would accept nothing less than a hard line toward Vietnam. Thus, Humphrey was caught between the doves whose support he needed to prevent a fracture of the Democratic Party and the hard-liners, including Johnson, who would not accept a compromise. Humphrey further enraged the conservatives by reneging on a promise to Connally to oppose the abolition of the unit rule at the upcoming convention. Southern delegates began talking of breaking away from Humphrey and drafting Johnson on their own (White 1969, 279).

While the Czechoslovakian crisis caused the first public stirrings of support for Johnson, overall it affected Johnson negatively. The day Soviet troops invaded Czechoslovakia, the White House had been about to announce a summit between Johnson and Soviet Premier Alexei Kosygin. Their meeting in 1967 had increased the goodwill between the countries; it also gave Johnson a significant boost in the polls. On August 20, Assistant Secretary of State William Bundy had just finished drafting a secret diplomatic note informing all of America's major allies of the approaching summit. Christian stood ready to inform the nation. The invasion canceled these plans. What might have been a triumphant lead-in to the convention had been spoiled; Johnson would not play peacemaker (White 1969, 277-78).(41)

As Johnson fretted about Czechoslovakia and Vietnam, Humphrey began to worry about the possibility that the president might reenter the race. The leader of the New York state delegation to the convention stated about Humphrey, "We felt the president was killing him, just killing him" (Chester, Hodgson, and Page 1969,543). Humphrey himself was upset about the situation. Anonymous White House aides said, "Hubert's been destroyed by the Czechoslovakia thing" (White 1969, 279 f). Humphrey, "wounded, hurt, and baffled as a child," even called a friend to ask if he could confirm the rumors that Johnson was thinking of running.(42)

Days before the convention, Johnson talked to James Farley, the postmaster general and chairman of the Democratic Party in 1940 when Franklin Roosevelt was "drafted" by the convention and received his party's nomination for the third time (Goodwin 1994, 107). Farley praised Johnson for his "great leadership" and told him that he wanted to "remind" the delegates "of the splendid leadership you have given."(43) Johnson ordered his staff to "work up for him ... the Administration's achievements on poverty, education, health, and housing-and get them to John Criswell to give to Farley in Chicago."(44) This note from Johnson himself shows that as the convention was about to begin, he was personally involved in gathering support for a potential draft movement.

Perhaps Johnson, who had attended the 1940 Democratic convention, shared some of the emotions Roosevelt had in 1940. Part of both men wanted to leave the stage, yet another part yearned to be in the middle of the fight. As Eleanor Roosevelt said of her husband, I think my husband was tom. He would often talk about the reasons against a third term but there was a great sense of responsibility for what was happening. And the great feeling that possibly he was the only one who was equipped and trained and cognizant.... Now, whether that was purely a sense of responsibility, whether there was some feeling of not wanting to leave the center of history ... no one, I think, could really assess.(45)

While Mrs. Roosevelt was describing her husband, she easily could have been talking about Johnson, who as a young congressman looked to Roosevelt as a role model and as president served as the heir to Roosevelt's political legacy.(46) Roosevelt had told Farley in 1940, "Jim, I don't want to run and I'm going to tell the convention so" (Goodwin 1994, 112).(47)

Maybe Farley connected these two occasions. The similarities between the men were evident; he had seen both Roosevelt and Johnson operate in the prime of their political lives. Like Roosevelt, Johnson had disavowed any pretensions to the nomination. Like Roosevelt, he was secretly working behind the scenes on the convention. Like Roosevelt, he thought the country needed leadership in a time of dire crisis. Like Roosevelt, he had serious reservations about whether his vice president was capable of continuing his policies. And like Roosevelt, he was relying on the secret support of the mayor of Chicago, where the Democratic conventions of 1940 and 1968 took place. Then, like Roosevelt, would Johnson receive the nomination in spite of all his protestations of noninterest?

The flurry of activity for Johnson continued unabated. Watson was now in Chicago, coordinating activity for Johnson, conveniently ignoring Johnson's earlier explicit wishes that no member of the executive branch engage in politics. Watson reported to Jones on August 21: "Governor Disalle called to say that the Ohio delegation could more closely unite behind the President than the Vice President. He says they know where the President stands and the Vice President is jumping all over the lot."(48)

Johnson also continued to exercise his power by ensuring that the platform take a hard line on Vietnam, much to Humphrey's chagrin. Humphrey tried to negotiate a compromise on the wording of the platform that would satisfy both Johnson and the doves. Johnson had promised Humphrey that he would approve of the platform as long as Dean Rusk, the secretary of state, said the wording was acceptable. Rusk approved the compromise platform, which had language conciliatory on the bombing halt and troop withdrawal while still reflecting the position of the administration. Then, Humphrey telephoned Walt Rostow, the national security adviser, to solicit his opinion on the possible agreement. Rostow signed on as well. Thus, Humphrey had a platform that met 80 percent of the McCarthy demands and had been cleared by the Departments of State and Defense. Humphrey was on the verge of uniting the party (Humphrey 1976, 387-88).

Johnson, at his ranch in Texas, started to fume. Watson, on Johnson's orders, summoned Humphrey to his suite and castigated him for betraying the president. Humphrey responded to Watson, "Well, Marvin. I cleared it with the secretary of state, and I've cleared it with Walt Rostow." Watson retorted, "That doesn't make any difference. It's been looked over again and it just doesn't meet the president's approval" (Humphrey 1976, 388-89). Johnson stymied Humphrey because the compromise platform would undercut Johnson's control of the convention. Johnson could not let another person dictate the course of his convention. Johnson got his way: there was no compromise. Thus, Johnson denied Humphrey an opportunity to unite the party, perhaps to prevent the violence, and perhaps even to win the election.

Johnson kept in touch with every detail of these developments by phone, as Jones and Temple relayed Watson's messages from the convention. Both men wanted Johnson to seek renomination.(49) Jones accompanied Johnson to the ranch where Johnson received minute-by-minute accounts of the convention. In addition to Watson, Governor Connally reported to Johnson regularly. In fact, Connally talked to the ranch more than Watson.(50) Connally, who initially supported Johnson's withdrawal, had changed his mind. He wanted Johnson to run for the nomination as well.(51)

Johnson too felt the urge to run again. Connally (1993), in his memoirs, recalled, What few were aware of at the time-and all but lost from the record since-is how fervently Johnson hoped he would be drafted by the convention in 1968. Larry Temple was at his side at the ranch, acting as a conduit for messages from myself and Marvin Watson in Chicago. In secrecy, he had sent Watson to assess his chances of being drafted as the nominee. His withdrawal statement notwithstanding, Watson was there for that specific purpose, talking with as many delegates as he could reach. My assignment was to ask the governors of the Southern delegations if they would support a movement to draft Johnson.... I believe in his heart he wanted that moment of drama, the emotion of a convention swept away as in olden times, and the vindication it would represent. (P. 203)

At this point, Johnson wanted to be drafted. He thought he had done so much for the party and for the nation that he deserved the chance to run again. The draft, in Connally's words, would "vindicate" him. With a cadre of trusted young aides such as Jones, Temple, and Tom Johnson beside him at the ranch, he would send his even more trusted political braintrust, Connally and Watson, to Chicago to gauge his chances of being drafted.

Johnson's draft looked as if it might be achievable. With Connally gathering support from the southern states, Daley supervising the Illinois delegation, Watson running a secret campaign for him on the floor, and Criswell managing the convention itself, Johnson must have felt his odds were favorable.

In addition to Connally and Watson, a secret group of thirteen operatives calling themselves the Taxonomist Corps Toilers worked for Johnson at the convention. They "came in [to the convention] anywhere from ten days to two weeks ahead of time and put in from 16 to 20 hours a day."(52) John Ben Shepperd led the group. He had been one of the leaders of the abandoned Johnson presidential campaign. He was part of Johnson's group of loyal and trustworthy friends, the network that had propelled Johnson to power.(53)

Shepperd, according to Christian, was "an intriguing personality who loved intrigue."(54) Tellingly, Shepperd scrawled a hand-written note to Watson at the bottom of an otherwise ordinary letter. It said, "It was an undercover job which received no publicity."(55) Jones received this information, along with a note reading, "John Ben Shepperd says the people ... were very, very helpful in Chicago and hopes they can have a letter.... Do you think something could go to them in our usual non-specific way????"(56) Jones wrote a very brief thank you letter, stating "I want to thank you for your dedicated efforts in Chicago. While the news media may have concentrated on some other activities, all of us here were well aware of your unselfish work."(57)

After the convention, Shepperd thanked the Taxonomist Corps Toilers as well: To: Taxonomist Corps Toilers "The time has come, the Walrus said, to speak of many things ... [sic] of sailing ships, and sealing wax, and cabbages and kings ... [sic]"--of attitudes, congeniality, sense of humor and dedication. I want all of you to know how much I appreciate your jumping into a job that was very difficult at best.(58)

The Taxonomist Corps Toilers worked undercover as Johnson's convention began. Contrary to the existing historiography, Johnson's control of the scene was deep and his tentacles far reaching.(59) Moreover, his activities were covert and secret; virtually nobody knew the extent to which Johnson involved himself in Democratic politics after his March 31 speech. Even twenty-nine years later, Watson claims he was "just a delegate from Texas" even as he admits, "We were in charge of the convention."(60) Jones confirms this statement.(61)

At the start of the Democratic convention, Johnson still wanted to be drafted. Tom Johnson says of the president, "He would have been very pleased if there had been ... a draft."[62] Temple adds, "He wanted to be invited to go to the convention ... and drafted for the nomination."(63) Califano wrote, "It became apparent ... that [Johnson] hoped, and probably anticipated, that the convention delegates in Chicago would offer to draft him to be their party's candidate."(64)

Johnson's convention speech preparation further shows his desire to play a large role in Chicago. The speech-writing process started around August 16, when Harry McPherson gave a first draft to Johnson. Tom Johnson noted on the top of the copy, "It is speech to the group in Chicago where Bert works."(65)

While the speech reflects on the glory of the Johnson administration, it continues in a different direction: the future. Johnson would "strengthen our police forces." He would speak of unity. Finally, he would declare, "I pledge you that so long as I have breath in my body, I shall use it to encourage my country in that pilgrimage-toward one, free, brave, and responsible America."(66) Johnson loved this draft, terming it "excellent."(67)

The next draft of Johnson's speech appeared on August 25, just a day before the start of the convention. It was written by another speechwriter, Busby. In contrast to the previous draft, this one upholds Johnson's March 31 pledge. The speech reads, "Five months ago, I withdrew myself from consideration for your nomination. I have kept--and shall continue to keep--the pledge I made then, that I would not devote the time of this office to any personal partisan cause." Califano, who wired the speech to Johnson, asked for Johnson's opinion on this draft. (Johnson must not have liked the Busby draft. Johnson read it over and commented on it, and by August 27 another "revised draft of the speech" was ready.

Johnson's convention speech was still not ready on the morning of his sixtieth birthday, Tuesday, August 27. At 2:01 P.M. CDT that day, the second day of the Democratic convention, Califano wired Johnson a speech for delivery at the convention that very night; a speech that would appropriately capture the tone of his administration and point toward the future.

In this final draft, Johnson omitted all references to his March 31 withdrawal. Moreover, the speech spooled away from the past: "We turn our eyes ahead tonight, to the future." Johnson would outline Five Enduring Rights: health care, education, a good job, security, and justice. These Five Enduring Rights, reminiscent of Roosevelt's Four Freedoms, show Johnson's desire to lift the speech to a loftier, historic level. Johnson would end on the same note as the first draft, pledging "that so long as I have breath in my body, I shall use it to encourage my country in its journey toward a freer, braver, more responsible and united America."(69)

This is not a withdrawal announcement. This is not a man content with exiting the political stage forever. Ultimately, Johnson chose a speech that signified his willingness to accept a draft. He talked of unity, spoke of the future, and omitted the withdrawal statement.

The speech also proves that at 2 o'clock on Tuesday afternoon, Johnson planned to appear at the convention that night, following Bert/Criswell's itinerary exactly. The whole affair would be a surprise: first a film celebrating the glory of the Johnson administration, then a forward-looking speech, followed by a birthday party and a fireworks display over the lake. Perhaps after the Tuesday-night festivities the delegates would realize they really wanted Johnson to run for president again. Everything had been planned beautifully. The stage was about to be cleared for Lyndon Johnson, the thirty-sixth president of the United States. He stood in the wings, awaiting his cue from Connally and Watson in Chicago.

It never came.

Johnson had been in constant contact with the convention from the time Aretha Franklin belted the national anthem at 7:38 P.M. on Monday, August 26.(70) Christian states, "Greatly interested is too mild a term" to describe Johnson's attention to the Democratic convention.(71) Johnson communicated with people like Watson and Connally through his aides Temple and Jones. Jones and Temple would take a call and Johnson would listen to the conversation on another receiver in the room.(72) Then, through hand signals, Johnson would communicate with Jones or Temple. Sometimes, Johnson would put his hand over the receiver and whisper loud enough for them to relay his message.(73) While Johnson himself talked occasionally, he gleaned most of his information through Jones and Temple. The first day of the convention, Jones and Temple did most of the talking except for Johnson's half-hour conversation with Watson in the morning.(74) Johnson even had time for horseback riding with his secretary in the afternoon.(75)

That evening, Johnson ate dinner in the living room on a tray as he watched the opening night of the convention. Three television sets surrounded him, each tuned to a different network.(76) Usually, Johnson listened to CBS News with Walter Cronkite as the other two networks showed the picture without the sound.(77) He surely would have turned up the volume when CBS interviewed Watson on the convention floor at around 10:30 that night. Watson denied that he "control[led]" the convention for the president. As far as he knew, he said, Johnson had no contact with the convention. Watson, prodded by a question, also told CBS that he had heard of some delegates who intended to nominate Johnson. He did not know, however, if that would actually occur.(78)

Then, six minutes after Watson's interview, disaster struck. The convention voted to abolish the unit rule, effective immediately.(79) Connally and the Texas delegation, seated next to Daley and the Illinois delegation in a prominent position under the podium, voted against abolition. Connally's voice thundered, "Mr. Chairman, Texas, voting under the unit rule, casts 104 votes no." As the vote proceeded, many delegates began to boo and hiss the Texas delegates (Reston 1989, 364). Their real target was Johnson, sitting in his living room, on his ranch, watching the convention with his family. The abolition of the unit rule was a serious blow to Johnson's chances of being drafted, as it moved the party away from the bosses. Johnson now had to convince a majority of the more than two thousand delegates assembled instead of just a few key leaders.

That same night, the convention challenged the Texas delegation, charging Connally had picked his delegates in an unfair and illegal manner. The vote (in which the Texas delegation could not take part) was close. After extended debate, the Connally faction won 1,365 to 995. Johnson was excited; perhaps he could control the convention after all. Mrs. Johnson was also exultant. She wrote, "I couldn't possibly go to bed until John Connally had won that fight" (Reston 1989, 365). Johnson himself finally went to bed at three in the morning, three hours into his sixtieth birthday, his supposed day of triumph.

Johnson awoke on his birthday, Tuesday, still undecided about what to do later in the day. Although he wanted to go, the events of the previous night did not augur well. That day, people still bombarded the Texas delegation with boos and catcalls wherever they went in the city (Reston 1989, 365). Johnson spent much of the morning on the telephone while watching television.(80) After a swim at 1 o'clock, he held an impromptu press conference. He lied to reporters: "I am not talking to the convention. I am not sending any emissaries. I don't have anyone reporting to me other than Cronkite."(81) Yet, he left the door ajar: no, he had not made up his mind about whether he would attend the convention. Secret Service agents badgered White House staff, trying to divine whether Johnson would go.(82) A plane was on standby to fly Johnson to the convention.(83) So far, the president was following Bert's original plan exactly. He would pretend he was not going to come and then at the last minute surprise everyone with a trip to the convention.

But slowly Johnson realized he would not be recoronated. The vitriol against him was too strong. That afternoon, he continued to gather information. At 2:04 P.M. he talked to Jones for five minutes, then returned to his bedroom. At 2:31 he talked to Watson. Then, in quick succession, he talked to Christian, Watson, Daley twice, Criswell, and finally Christian again.(84)

As Johnson talked with Daley, Watson, and Criswell, Connally conducted a closed-door meeting with southern governors. Connally had presented the governors with the question Johnson told him to ask: Would they accept a draft for Johnson? Their answer, Connally reported, was a resounding no (Connally 1993,203). At 2:37, Governor Robert E. McNair of South Carolina dropped his favorite-son candidacy in favor of Humphrey.(85) Johnson decided not to attend the convention as he talked to his Chicago aides. He would not go. He would not be drafted. It was, finally, all over.(86)

One minute after Johnson finished talking to Christian, he called Humphrey, undoubtedly to tell him that he would not be in Chicago that night and to express support for Humphrey's bid for the nomination.(87) At 4:45, the same time Johnson spoke to Humphrey, Connally announced in a closed meeting of the Texas delegation that he was prepared to withdraw his favorite-son candidacy and support Humphrey.(88) At 5:00, twenty minutes after he got off the phone with Johnson, Christian told the press that the president would not go to Chicago.

Johnson stayed up late that night, transfixed by the television, perhaps wondering what might have been. At 2:02 A.M., eleven hours after he decided not to go to the convention, Johnson called Watson in his room at the Conrad Hilton in Chicago.(89) Maybe they commiserated about what might have been and what went wrong. Perhaps they went over the agenda for the next day. They talked for nearly half an hour. Finally, at 2:30 A.M., Johnson went to bed,(90) thus ending his sixtieth birthday and one of the worst days of his life.

Johnson celebrated his birthday in Austin, not in Chicago. There was no film, no speech, no fireworks display. The birthday cake sat uneaten at the Stockyard Inn; the thousands of signs reading "Draft LBJ" stayed in locked rooms in the basement of the convention amphitheater (Reston 1989, 366). There would be no crowning moment for Johnson. Connally later summed it up: "Based on reports from Marvin Watson and others, put as gently as possible, he understood that he would not be well received.... He would be a disruptive force instead of a healing one, and that was an indignity he would not have wanted to suffer" (Connally 1993, 214).

By Tuesday afternoon, Johnson understood that a draft movement was hopeless. Once the southern governors abandoned him, his quest was over. The southern governors refused to support Johnson because they understood the difficulty of winning in November with Johnson still at the head of the ticket. Moreover, even if the governors might have been inclined to support Johnson, the repeal of the unit rule meant that the governors would have to convince each delegate to vote for Johnson. They were simply unwilling to spend their political capital in this manner because they understood that support for Johnson simply was not that strong both in the convention hall and in their home states.

More ignomy awaited Johnson during the Wednesday-night nominating session. Johnson had to muster all of his power, energy, and organization to keep his name from being placed in nomination by antiwar delegates as a farce.(91) A delegate from New York close to the Kennedys named William vanden Heuve decided to place Johnson's name in nomination as a protest against the hard-line Vietnam plank that had passed earlier in the day. His reasoning was that Johnson "is the only one who can run on the Vietnam plank they have given us." Richard Goodwin, an aide to Senator McCarthy, remarked sarcastically, "Why take the dummy when you can get the ventriloquist?

When Johnson heard about this threat to use his name in this way, he was livid. He told his aides to make sure that it did not happen. A Johnson aide cornered vanden Heuve behind the curtain of the stage and talked to him for more than an hour. The aide maintained that the presidency itself would be disgraced by such a move. Finally vanden Heuve relented; Johnson would not be nominated by the antiwar delegates to show their disgust with administration policy. The idea of a draft had been turned around by Johnson's opponents. Although he might have passed a platform that included a tough stance against Vietnam, he would still be a vanquished man, not the conquering hero. Although he wanted to unite the party and the country, he only served to divide them further. The secret dream of another nomination had vanished; Johnson was reduced to pleading with a delegate whom he detested to prevent his disgrace, for he knew that he would not receive one single vote (Reston 1989, 368).

Earlier that evening, Johnson finally sent a telegram to the convention stating that he did not consider himself a candidate. It read, "On March 31 I informed the American people that I would not accept the nomination of my party for another term as President of the United States. That decision was and is irrevocable." When Speaker of the House and convention chairman Carl Albert read this message, the delegates applauded after each sentence. The next nominee of the Democratic Party would be Humphrey, not Johnson.

After Johnson decided not to attend the convention, he rewrote the story of the convention in his own mind to make its memory bearable. As Connally recalled, "Johnson had convinced himself that he never held out hopes of a draft in 1968, nor did he want to appear at the convention. And yet I know he did. I know he wanted to hear the accolades--hear the sound of applauding hands-which were denied him" (Connally 1993, 214). After the convention, Johnson could pretend that he never wanted to go, that he had no interest in politics after March 31, that he did not want to be drafted. Still, as Christian said later, Johnson was "fantasiz[ing] that the convention would be such a mess that he would go in and be acclaimed as the nominee."(92)

Both Watson and Jones believe that Johnson did not want to be drafted. Watson states that Johnson never reconsidered his March 31 decision.(93) The evidence, however, undercuts his assertion. Indeed, Connally himself acknowledged that Johnson sent Watson to Chicago to assess his chances of receiving the nomination (Connally 1993, 214). Jones also believes that Johnson did not want to be drafted. While it is impossible to know for sure what Johnson wanted, the documents present a portrait of a president who at the very least wanted the chance to be drafted. Johnson wanted the final choice to be his, not the convention's.

Perhaps Johnson was only using the threat of a draft as leverage against those who would weaken the platform's stance on Vietnam and on the Great Society. Johnson, after all, desperately wanted peace in Vietnam and did not want to let the platform compromise a chance for peace.(94) Control of the platform is the reason Johnson started his secret activity at the convention. The documents show, however, that Johnson and his aides were not merely engaged in planning about how to achieve victory in the platform fight. Rather, they were planning how they could manipulate a draft for the president. It is certainly true that Johnson had many reasons for wanting to control the convention, from ensuring that he was not embarrassed on a political level to ensuring that Humphrey followed his policy on Vietnam. However, Johnson's efforts were more fir reaching than an attempt to ward off embarrassment or to keep Humphrey on a short leash. Perhaps Johnson wanted to use the threat of a draft to achieve his other goals; if that was his motive, then Johnson's failed draft is another example of Johnson's outmaneuvering his opponents. After all, within the small group of people who knew that Johnson was thinking about running, he was able to portray his victory on the platform as a loss on the broader question of the draft. Under this analysis, Johnson gave up at the right time-when he had achieved all his real goals and had not embarrassed himself by revealing to the larger audience his hidden goal of a draft movement. In affect, Johnson confused his opponents by distracting them from his real goals. The problem with this story is that so few people knew about the draft that it is hard to imagine Johnson thought that an underground movement could affect the platform and the convention without everybody's knowing about it: something he was trying to avoid.

The simpler explanation is that while Johnson's original goal was only to control the convention and the platform, by early August he wanted to be drafted. He decided to pursue the draft option covertly, even as he was working to secure a platform of his liking. Even though it might have been an open secret that Johnson was trying to control the convention, Johnson wanted the draft movement kept even more secret. Thus, Criswell could use his own name in talking about the platform but had to use "Bert" when he hinted at the depth of Johnson's desires for the convention. While only Johnson can know whether he actually intended to follow through with his efforts, the written evidence as well as the observations of most of his close aides presents a compelling case that at the very least, Johnson wanted the convention to try to draft him, and that he and his aides engaged in a serious attempt to try to make some sort of draft possible.

Johnson might not have accepted a draft had it been offered. He had grave concerns about his health and doubted he could live another four years. Very morbid, he often expressed the thought that Johnson boys die young.(95) Connally, too, noticed Johnson's fatalism with regard to his health. His concerns about his health were all too prophetic (Connally 1993, 214). Johnson died on January 22, 1973, of a massive heart attack, just two days after Nixon's second inauguration, two days after he would have completed his second full term in office.

Johnson might have wanted a draft only to turn it down to validate his presidency.(96) Regardless of whether Johnson intended to run for the nomination, staying away from Chicago allowed Johnson to preserve the fiction that he needed: that he could have won the election in 1968. In his memoirs, he claimed, "I am convinced that if I had run again I would have been re-elected. The last polls taken in February and March, before I announced I would not run, indicated I could have defeated Richard Nixon" (Johnson 1971, 549). The polls, however, belie Johnson's words. In March 1968, according to the Gallup Opinion Index, immediately before his withdrawal Johnson's approval rating stood at 36 percent, dangerously low for an incumbent president in an election year. In addition, also according to the Gallup Opinion Index, public opinion had already started to mm against American involvement in Vietnam.(97)

Johnson's hopes and failure in Chicago add humanity and complexity to his character. Although Johnson did keep his options open until the last second, he still had the sense to realize that his time had passed. His political machinations from April to August show that far from being removed from the arena, Johnson was actively involved in all aspects of political planning. In fact, his behind-the-scenes role during this period was an extremely keen move. He could still keep his eye on political opponents while maintaining an above-the-fray air of statesmanship. When Johnson's plans for Chicago went askew, he could still claim that he was above politics. People do not remember his August 28 telegram to the Chicago convention announcing he had no intention of being a candidate for president; instead, they remember his dramatic withdrawal announcement of March 31.

Although Johnson's detractors simplistically dismissed him as an insufferable "pig," he was not so one-dimensional; rather, he was awash in raw emotion. Johnson's rejection at the 1968 Democratic convention must have confirmed the sense of pain and suffering that he felt as the country at large began to mm against both him and the war in Vietnam. No longer a mythic figure, he was simply a human being who had just been rejected by a group to whom he had devoted his entire life. Indeed, the group that sealed his fate was the southern governors, the people who he felt were closest to him politically. At least Johnson could keep this last rejection by the party a secret, since so few knew of his machinations for a draft. He was still able to claim that he went out on top. Still, he knew that he had tried and failed. He knew that he would not be the nominee of the Democratic Party in 1968. Finally, he knew that as of January 20,1969, he would once again become just a regular citizen of the United States. Perhaps this thought caused the most pain of all.

(1.) Presidential Daily Diary, March 31 log, Box 14, Lyndon Baines Johnson Library (LBJL), Austin, Texas.

(2.) Ibid.

(3.) Tom Johnson (no relation), one of Johnson's aides at the time, stated, "Personally, the president had a lot of affection for Humphrey"(personal communication, February 10, 1997). Larry Temple, another trusted presidential staff member, recalled, "President Johnson and Humphrey had a wonderful relationship" (personal communication, February 12, 1997).

(4.) Johnson declared, "Every person has the right to state who he is going to vote for and campaign for whomsoever he pleases. But I don't think he should do it as an appointee of the President.... Of course, he can vote for whomsoever he pleases, but if he desires to run up and down the country campaigning for any individual, I hope he will give me an opportunity to have someone else take over his job here in Washington."

(5.) Presidential Daily Diary, Box 14, June 5, 1968, LBJL. Cf. Califano (1991, 292) and Dallek (1998, 546).

(6.) Johnson also directed him to bring his resignation to the White House and give it to Califano that very night. When Califano found out what had happened, he called Baker and told him not to worry about what Johnson had said and to forget about the order to resign unless Califano called the following morning. All Baker could say, over and over, was, "But I have a direct presidential order" Eventually, Califano persuaded Baker to stay at his job. Califano never needed to call Baker back; Johnson never mentioned Baker again.

(7.) Smith was one of the three reporters who witnessed Johnson's oath of office aboard Air Force One in Dallas after Kennedy's assassination on November 22, 1963. He worked for UPI.

(8.) White House Central Files, PL Ex, Box 79, 10-1-67/6-30-68, memo from Tom Johnson to LBJ, May 20, 12:15 P.M., LBJL.

(9.) White House Central Files, PL Ex, Box 79, 10-1-67/6-30-68, memo from Tom Johnson to LBJ, May 20, 1:45 P.M., LBJL.

(10.) White House Central Files, PL Ex, Box 79, 10-1-67/6-30-68, memo from Larry Temple to LBJ, May 20, LBJL.

(11.) Files of Marvin Watson, Box 20, DNC/Rowe-Criswell Operation, memo from John Criswell to Marvin Watson, January 22, LBJL.

(12.) White House Central Files, PL Ex, Box 79, 10-1-67/6-30-68, note from JimJ, May 20, 2:30 P.M., LBJL.

(13.) For a different view of Johnson's interest in the presidential race, see Shesol (1997, 450) and Dallek (1998, 569). Shesol argues that Johnson had become disassociated from the campaign, and that he was even resigned to a Kennedy presidency. Dallek supports Shesol's argument that Johnson did not reconsider his withdrawal until after Robert Kennedy's death. Although it is impossible to speculate what would have happened had Kennedy not been shot, Johnson had taken an active interest in the campaign so that he could seize an opportunity if one arose. The death of Senator Kennedy left a political vacuum, yet the depth of Johnson's penetration into the Democratic National Committee in Chicago suggests that even had Kennedy lived, Johnson would have acted in a very similar manner in the three months leading up to the convention. Shesol does mention that Johnson received "highly detailed" polling information from the Indiana primary on May 7. Shesol sees Johnson's lack of action to stop Kennedy as evidence that he was "resigned to a Kennedy presidency." This fact of the extensive polling, taken in relation with the documents here, suggests a different story: Johnson was gathering evidence and ammunition to keep his options open. Johnson was unwilling to close any doors until he absolutely had to. Far from being a "political eunuch," Johnson was still trying to control events from behind the scenes.

(14.) White House Central Files, PL Ex, Box 89, 5-8-68/6-30-68, memo from Larry Temple to the President, June 15, LBJL.

(15.) White House Central Files, PL Ex, Box 79,10-1-67/6-30-68, memo from Bill Blackburn to the President, May 23, LBJL.

(16.) White House Central Files, PL 2, Box 89, 5-8-68/6-30-68, memo from Tom Johnson to the President, June 11, LBJL.

(17.) White House Central Files, PL 2, Box 89, 5-8-68/6-30-68, memo from Larry Temple to the President, June 15, LBJL.

(18.) Files of Marvin Watson, Box 20, DNC/Rowe-Criswell Operation, memo from John Criswell to Marvin Watson, January 22. The first person in the Rowe-Criswell duo was Rowe, a longtime Beltway fixture who had first met Johnson when Rowe was an assistant to Roosevelt and Johnson was one of the 435 members of the House of Representatives. The Washington Post noted the beginning of the Rowe-Criswell operation in a February 21 article titled "Rowe Heads Citizens Unit for Johnson-Humphrey." Rowe was to operate and lead the Citizens Committee for Johnson and Humphrey, a "clearinghouse for [the] Johnson effort in the presidential primary" that "has taken over the direction of the opening stages of the President's undeclared re-election campaign." Also on the committee was Watson, Johnson's chief of staff and political confidante. The Rowe-Criswell operation office was next door to the Democratic National Committee, where Criswell's other office was conveniently located.

(19.) White House Central Files, PL Ex, Box 79, 10-1-67/6-30-68, memo from John Criswell to James R. Jones, June 18, LBJL.

(20.) Ibid.

(21.) White House Central Files, PL Ex, Box 79, 10-1-67/6-30-68, memo from John Criswell to James R. Jones, June 28, LBJL.

(22.) Johnson had originally scheduled the dates of the 1968 Democratic convention so that it would fall on his birthday. He did the same thing four years earlier when he celebrated his fifty-sixth birthday at the 1964 convention in Atlantic City.

(23.) White House Central Files, PL Ex, Box 79, 10-1-67/6-30-68, memo from John Criswell to James R. Jones, June 28, LBJL.

(24.) Ibid.

(25.) White House Central Files, PL 5, Box 115, Platforms 8-26-64-, memo from Joe Califano for the President, July 11, LBJL.

(26.) White House Central Files, FG, Box 19, FG 1, 8-1-68/8-31-68, list of LBJ Administration Film, LBJL.

(27.) White House Central Files, PL Ex, Box 79, 8-12-68/9-7-68, memo from Joe Califano for the President, August 22, LBJL.

(28.) White House Central Files, PL Ex, Box 79, 7-11-68/8-11-68, memo from John Criswell to Jim Jones, July 29, LBJL.

(29.) White House Central Files, PL Ex, Box 79, 7-11-68/8-11-68, memo from John Criswell to Jim Jones, July 27, LBJL.

(30.) Ibid.

(31.) Ibid.

(32.) White House Central Files, Confidential File, Box 77, PL 1 Conventions, memo from Bert to Jim Jones, August 9, received LBJ ranch 2:55, LBJL.

(33.) Ibid.

(34.) Ibid.

(35.) White House Central Files, Confidential File, Box 77, PL 1 Conventions, memo from Bert to Jim Jones, August 9, received LBJ Ranch 2:45, LBJL.

(36.) Ibid.

(37.) White House Central Files, PL Ex, 8-12-68/9-7-68, memo from John Criswell to Jim Jones, August 12, LBJL.

(38.) White House Central Files, PL Ex, 8-12-68/9-7-68, memo from Bert to Jim Jones, August 12, LBJL.

(39.) Jones, personal communication, March 10, 1997.

(40.) Ibid.

(41.) The crisis also caused a debate in rite White House about more practical concerns: should the convention film reflect the latest international developments. Califano asked Johnson whether he thought "we should make any changes in it in view of the Czechoslovakian situation. If you want to make any changes we will have to begin immediately." Califano needed to know quickly because he needed time to change the film, which was to be shown at the convention in five days. There was a catch, however: "If we add anything, it cannot be in Peck's voice and we would probably have to go back to the narrator who did the film before Peck. Califano pressed Johnson, "Do you want us to leave the film as it is [or] add a sentence about the need for vigilance even though that involves changing the narrator from Gregory Peck?" Johnson's response is lost.

(42.) Ibid.

(43.) White House Central Files, SP, Box 5, "Speeches 7-18-68/9-30-68," Letter, Jim Farley to Lyndon Johnson, August 20, LBJL.

(44.) White House Central Files, SP, Box 5, "Speeches 7-18-68/9-30-68," note from LBJ, August 22, LBJL.

(45.) Goodwin (1994, 108-9).

(46.) For a comparison of Roosevelt and Johnson, see Leuchtenberg (1983,121-60). Leuchtenberg argues that Johnson self-consciously styled himself after Roosevelt, that Roosevelt was like a "daddy" to him, and that he owed his political life to Roosevelt.

(47.) After a speaker read an ambiguous telegram from Roosevelt to the 1940 Democratic convention, in which nobody was sure whether Roosevelt was or was not a candidate, "a single, booming voice" shouted "We want Roosevelt." The voice was from the basement, where Edward Kelly, the mayor of Chicago, placed an aide with a "leather-lunged" voice to initiate a stampede for Roosevelt. The stampede, though contrived at the beginning, soon "took on a life of its own," and Roosevelt's renomination was ensured. Farley, who had wanted the nomination for himself, watched the scene with tears in his eyes as he realized that Roosevelt had triumphed yet again (Goodwin 1994, 112).

(48.) White House Central Files, PL, Box 25, Humphrey 6-11-68/9-10-68, note from Marvin Watson to Jim Jones, August 21, LBJL.

(49.) Christian, personal communication, February 12, 1997.

(50.) Temple, personal communication, February 12, 1997.

(51.) Christian, personal communication, February 12, 1997.

(52.) White House Central Files, PL 1, Box 79, 8-12-68/9-7-68, letter from John Ben Shepperd to Marvin Watson, September 5, 1968; White House Central Files, PL 1, Box 79, 8-12-68/9-7-68, memo from John Ben Shepperd to Taxonomist Corps Toilers, August 31, LBJL. Shepperd was the former attorney general of Texas and an old friend of Johnson's.

(53.) Christian, personal communication, February 12, 1997.

(54.) Ibid.

(55.) White House Central Files, PL 1, Box 79, 8-12-68/9-7-68, letter from John Ben Shepperd to Marvin Watson, September 5, 1968, LBJL.

(56.) White House Central Files, PL 1, Box 79, 8-12-68/9-7.68, note to Jim Jones from mjc, LBJL.

(57.) White House Central Files, PL 1, Box 79, 8-12-68/9-7-68, letter from Jim Jones to John Ben Shepperd, September 7, LBJL.

(58.) White House Central Files, PL 1, Box 79, 8-12-68/9-7-68, memo from John Ben Shepperd to Taxonomist Corps Toilers, August 31, LBJL. Although Watson stated in a recent communication that the Taxonomist Corps Toilers were merely innocent "volunteers" (February 18, 1997), Shepperd's own description of the group and its secret nature undercut that argument. Shepperd's Walrus is from Lewis Carroll's Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, "The Walrus and the Carpenter," stanza 11. The actual quotation differs slightly from Shepperd's version, reading, "`The time has come,' the Walrus said/To talk of many things: /Of shoes--and ships--and sealing wax--/of cabbages and king--/And why the sea is boiling hot--and whether pigs have wings." Shepperd missed a few key words that destroyed the rhythm of Carroll's words. Shepperd also did not include the last two lines of the verse, although he did include ellipses in the memo. The last lines, which Shepperd omitted, are intriguing, as they ask "whether pigs have wings." Many people in the South prefaced an event that they wanted to happen with the phrase "If pigs had wings." Maybe Shepperd and the Taxonomist Corps Toilers used this poem as code for their desire to see the president renominated. Alice in Wonderland is also a fantasy novel. Perhaps Shepperd, who wrote the memo after the convention ended, is alluding to the fantasy under which the Taxonomist Corps Toilers operated during the convention. The likelihood of Johnson's receiving the nomination was about the same as pigs being able to fly. Ironically, another group appropriated this Carroll quotation in the late 1960s: the Beatles. The Beatles' song "I Am the Walrus," written in 1967, uses "The Walrus and the Carpenter" as a basis for a song filled with fantastic images. The Beatles, icons of the antiwar demonstrators, and Shepperd, a figure of the old generation, could both share Alice in Wonderland and use it for their own purposes. Maybe pigs do have wings.

(59.) Most biographies of Johnson do not focus on the period from March 31 to the start of the general election campaign in September. The period from March to August has been completely eliminated from virtually all books about Johnson. A few exceptions do appear. Califano's (1991) The Triumph and Tragedy of Lyndon Johnson talks to a limited extent about Johnson during these months. Most of the focus, however, is on Johnson's desire to confirm Supreme Court justices or pass pending bills. He does spend a few pages on Johnson's involvement in the presidential race, and I have used his information in this article. He does confirm that Johnson was involved in convention planning and wanted to be drafted. Connally's (1993) autobiography, In History's Shadow, touches briefly on this subject as well but only talks about the convention, and to a very limited extent at that. Connally delves into no detail and only mentions the convention in passing. Doris Kearns's (1976) acclaimed biography Lyndon Johnson and the American Dream spends only half a page on Johnson's thoughts about the nomination. It states only that Johnson was "wishful" about the convention and that Senator James Eastland of Mississippi wanted Johnson to run. Kearns concludes by stating that "there is little doubt that, as the convention neared, Johnson began to feel that his withdrawal might not be irrevocable, that he might find vindication more real and immediate than the verdict of history." Unfortunately, Kearns writes virtually nothing else about the subject and uses as a source only her own personal conversations with Johnson. Dallek's (1998) Flawed Giant, published after this article was first written, does examine this period in the Johnson presidency. While Dallek argues that Johnson wanted to be drafted, the draft is treated as if it were a flight of fancy, when in reality Johnson knew what he had to do to receive the nomination. This article, in contrast to Dallek's book, portrays the extent to which Johnson went to stay involved in the political scene, to control the convention, and to be drafted by the convention.

(60.) Watson, personal communication, February 18, 1997.

(61.) Jones, personal communication, March 10, 1997.

(62.) Tom Johnson, personal communication, February 10, 1997.

(63.) Temple, personal communication, February 12, 1997.

(64.) Califano (1991,320). Not all people who were around Johnson thought that he wanted to be drafted. Most notably, both Jones and Watson dissent from this view. Both say that Johnson never reconsidered his March 31 decision. Christian is a bit more circumspect, stating that he found it difficult to believe that Johnson wanted back in. He does state, however, that there would have been a slight chance "if the stars had been aligned in the right position."

(65.) White House Central Files, PL 1, Box 79, 8-12-68/9-748, speech from Tom Johnson to Marie, August 16, LBJL.

(66.) Ibid.

(67.) White House Central Files, Confidential File, Box 86, Speeches, 1967-, speech draft from Walt Rostow to the President, August 17, LBJL.

(68.) White House Central Files, PL 1, Box 79, 8-12.68/9-7-68, speech from Joe Califano to the President, August 25, LBJL.

(69.) White House Central Files, Confidential File, Box 86, Speeches, 1967-, speech from Joe Califano to the President, August 27, LBJL.

(70.) The Presidential Nominating Conventions: 1968 (1968, 139).

(71.) Christian, personal communication, February 12, 1997.

(72.) Jones, personal communication, March 10, 1997.

(73.) Temple, personal communication, February 12,1997; Jones, personal communication, March 10, 1997.

(74.) Diary Backup File, Box 109, log of August 26, LBJL.

(75.) Presidential Daily Diary, August 26, 1968, LBJL.

(76.) Ibid.; Tom Johnson, personal communication, February 10, 1997.

(77.) Tom Johnson, personal communication, February 10, 1997.

(78.) Nominating Conventions (1968, 141).

(79.) Ibid.

(80.) Presidential Daily Diary, August 27, 1968, LBJL

(81.) Nominating Conventions (1968, 220 [transcript of Johnson's news conference]).

(82.) Tom Johnson, personal communication, February 10, 1997.

(83.) Ibid.

(84.) Diary Backup File, Box 109, log of August 27, LBJL.

(85.) Nominating Conventions (1968, 144).

(86.) White (1969,279 f) places the end of the "Johnson boom" on Monday evening, August 26. When the latest Harris poll was released on Monday evening showing Johnson, Humphrey, and McCarthy all trailing Nixon by six points, the Johnson candidacy died. He further states that Watson asked Harris to call "Austin' on Monday afternoon with early results of the poll. White states, "Unable to refuse to call back the President of the United States, Harris delayed until nine P.M. on Monday, when the White House switchboard put him through to the President's ranch in Texas. Harris recounted his results.... At the other end of the phone came an expression of disappointment approaching shock. Harris was asked what would be the reaction to a personal Presidential visit to the convention to attend the sixtieth birthday party which Dick Daley was planning for Johnson; Harris replied that he felt the President might be booed; and the conversation ended with an expression of the President's total incredulity" (pp. 279-80 ff). I can find no evidence that this conversation ever happened. White House phone logs do not show Johnson making or receiving any calls after 5:10 P.M. that day. The daily diary clearly places Johnson in the living room with his family that night. It is theoretically possible, but highly doubtful, that Johnson received a call without either the diary's or the log's noting it. In addition, Johnson's own actions and the course of events on Tuesday convince me that Johnson made his decision between 2:00 and 4:30 on Tuesday afternoon. This corresponds to the White House records as well as events happening at the convention itself. While Johnson was certainly aware of the boos on Monday night, I believe he reserved final judgment on a decision until Tuesday afternoon. Dallek (1998, 573) states that Johnson's decision came even later, in the late afternoon and early evening of August 27. Dallek relies on Johnson's public statement at 5:45 that he was still considering attending the convention. While he might have publicly protested that he had not decided whether to attend, the evidence supports the conclusion that Johnson made his final decision not to attend the convention and not to be drafted during the mid-afternoon of August 27.

(87.) Presidential Daily Diary, August 27 1968, LBJL.

(88.) Nominating Conventions (1968, 144).

(89.) Diary Backup File, Box 109, log of August 27, 1968, LBJL.

(90.) Presidential Daily Diary, August 27, 1968, LBJL.

(91.) Nominating Conventions (1968, 153).

(92.) Oral History, Round Table Discussion, April 17, 1984, p. 69 (Califano 1991, 322).

(93.) Watson, personal communication, February 18,1997; Jones, personal communication, March 10,1997.

(94.) See Gardner (1995, 464-83) and Dallek (1998, 530-92).

(95.) Temple, personal communication, February 12, 1997.

(96.) Ibid.; Califano (1991, 320). Watson, however, dismisses this notion: "If he wanted a draft, we would have nominated him." Furthermore, Johnson's turning the draft down would have made the eventual Democratic nominee look like an also-ran, a situation Johnson did not want.

(97.) Ibid. Forty-nine percent thought Vietnam was a mistake compared with 41 percent who did not. Even against potential Republican candidates, Johnson was not winning in the polls. In February, according to the Gallup Opinion Index, before his approval ratings began to sink even further, Nixon and Johnson each received 42 percent of the vote in a test election. Against Nelson Rockefeller, however, Johnson lost 46 percent to 41 percent. Amazingly, Watson still maintains that the only reason Humphrey lost the election is that he refused to back Johnson's hard-line position on Vietnam (personal communication, February 18, 1997). Again, reality is far different. Humphrey was mired in an electoral funk until he separated himself from Johnson's war policies in a late-September speech. After his speech, he steadily began to rise against Nixon. He lost the election by less than a percentage point.

References

Califano, Joseph. 1991. The triumph and tragedy of Lyndon Johnson. New York: Simon & Schuster.

Chester, Lewis, Godfrey Hodgson, and Bruce Page. 1969. An American melodrama: The presidential campaign of 1968. New York: Viking.

Christian, George. 1970. The president steps down. New York: Macmillan.

Connally, John B. 1993. In history's shadow. New York: Hyperion.

Dallek, Robert. 1998. Flawed giant. New York: Oxford University Press.

Gardner, Lloyd. 1995. Pay any price: Lyndon Johnson and the wars for Vietnam. Chicago: Ivan R. Dee.

Humphrey, Hubert H. 1976. Education of a public man. New York: Doubleday.

Goldman, Eric. 1969. The tragedy of Lyndon Johnson. New York: Alfred A. Knopf.

Goodwin, Doris Kearns. 1994. No ordinary time. New York: Simon & Schuster.

Johnson, Lyndon B. 1971. The vantage point. New York: Holt, Rinehart & Winston.

Kearns, Doris. 1976. Lyndon Johnson and the American dream. New York: Harper & Row.

Leuchtenberg, William. 1983. In the shadow of FDR. Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press.

The presidential nominating conventions: 1968. 1968. Washington, DC: Congressional Quarterly Press.

Reston, James. 1989. Lone star. New York: Harper & Row.

Shesol, Jeff. 1997. Mutual contempt. New York: W. W. Norton.

White, Theodore. 1969. Making of the president: 1968. New York: Atheneum.

Justin A. Nelson is a law clerk for Chief Judge J. Harvie Wilkinson III, United States Court of Appeals for the 4th Circuit.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I gratefully acknowledge the helpful comments and criticism of Robin Winks, Harry Stout and especially Glenda Gilmore.