Working for Father

If nothing else, the 1964 campaign ought to set a record for family togetherness on the hustings. A rally is hardly a rally these days without a Johnson, Goldwater, Humphrey or Miller wife, daughter, son or in-law somewhere on the scene.

sbTHE JOHNSONS. Although she says she feels butterflies before every public appearance, Lady Bird is a veteran campaigner, has already rolled up 55,000 miles on the road for Lyndon this year. Last week she left Washington aboard a train called The Lady Bird Special, rolled down South through eight states, made 42 whistle-stops at wide spots along the roadbed like Ahoskie, N.C., where Lady Bird's was the first passenger train to stop in twelve years.

In speeches from the observation platform, Lady Bird noted what she likes about the South ("Not a place of geography, but a place of the heart"), purred through prideful recitals of Lyndon's accomplishments and usually wound up with a ladylike soft sell: "I am proud of his record and I hope you will want to continue it."

Both Johnson daughters--Luci, 17, and Lynda, 20--were on the train, made girlish speeches punctuated with dimples and fond comments about "Daddy." After hecklers in Columbia, S.C., booed Lady Bird's talk, Lynda marched up to the microphone, snapped angrily, "I know these rude comments were not made by people from the good state of South Carolina but by people from the state of confusion." Besides last week's whistle-stopping, both girls have appeared regularly at weekend political rallies and cookouts all over the country. To guarantee big crowds, their act is usually bolstered by big-name entertainers such as Sammy Davis, the Brothers Four or Folksingers Peter, Paul and Mary.

sbTHE GOLDWATERS. As a rule, Barry Goldwater's wife Peggy simply stays at his side, smiling shyly when she is introduced and saying little or nothing. But last week Peggy left Barry's elbow, went to her girlhood home town of Muncie, Ind., to campaign a bit. For moral support, she had in tow all four of her children--Barry Jr., 26, Mike, 24, Joanne (Mrs. Thomas H. Ross), 28, and Peggy Jr. (Mrs. Richard Arlen Holt), 20. Peggy made no formal speeches in Muncie, said flatly, "One speaker in the family is enough." Next day in Columbus she held a press conference, ruled out all political questions right away, and wound up handing out nuggets about Barry's favorite food (fried chicken), her secret for staying well-groomed while campaigning (her hairdresser travels with her), and her hobbies (grandchildren, of whom she has four).

But Barry's boys are chips off the old political block. Mike, who works for a Phoenix bank, averages 20 speeches a week, fills free hours in strange towns by going to the local G.O.P. headquarters to help stuff envelopes. He even campaigns in airplanes between stops, says confidently: "I haven't met a stewardess yet who isn't going to support Dad." Barry Jr., a Los Angeles stockbroker, delivers seven speeches a day, faithfully echoes his father's views by saying that "women and children are less safe on our streets than ever before," bringing in the names of Bobby Baker and Billie Sol Estes in conjunction with the Johnson Administration, and constantly insisting that "you can't compromise with Communism." Says Barry Jr. of the family's efforts: "We are going out and working for the old man; we are working hard."

sbTHE HUMPHREYS. Silver-haired and softspoken, Muriel Humphrey is a motherly political pro on the campaign trail. Last month she made a solo six-state Midwest tour, gave warm little speeches to audiences ranging from 3,000 college kids in Madison, Wis., to 250 burly steelworkers and their wives in Waukegan, Ill. Her approach is always low-key. Says Muriel: "As a wife, mother and now a grandmother, I believe that the election of the Johnson-Humphrey ticket is vital to the security of our children."

Regularly, Muriel holds what she calls "press receptions," explains that "if I call it a press conference, it would sound as though I know everything about everything." When reporters ask touchy political questions, Muriel demurs: "I hate to be drawn too far into the politics of it. My husband is the trained politician." Muriel is slated to make other trips by herself this month. But last week she left Hubert's entourage for a few days, confided she was happy to get away from hotel living for a while. "I just feel like scrambling my own eggs," she said.

Other members of the Humphrey family are less involved. Son-in-Law Bruce Solomonson and Son Hubert Jr., 22, have made only occasional visits to young Democrats' rallies.

sbTHE MILLERS. Bill Miller's wife Stephanie, 41, and daughters Elizabeth Anne ("Libby"), 20, and Mary Karen, 17, are pleasing adornments to his rough-tough campaign. Libby has given several demure speeches, which she laboriously writes herself, to Republican youth clubs, while Mary Karen has begun to make the G.O.P. weekend cookout circuit.

Mrs. Miller, a quiet, handsome brunette, warmed slowly to the campaign, but has begun to take it in stride. Last week she went alone to Alabama, visited half a dozen cities to kick off a Republican women's doorbell-ringing campaign called "Bells for Barry and Bill." She made no formal speeches, avoided politics with reporters, but gently shook hundreds of hands and smiled prettily all the while.

Mrs. Miller is of Polish extraction and her husband usually sends her in to warm up audiences of Polish-American groups. On these occasions, she is often accompanied by her Polish-speaking mother, Mrs. Stephen Wagner, who still draws tap beer at Wagner's Town Tavern, her late husband's bar on the outskirts of Buffalo, when she isn't politicking for her son-in-law. Says Stephanie Miller of her part in the campaign: "I see my role as a helpmate. When people have put their faith in you to run for this office and tell you so, it's a wonderfully rewarding thing. This campaign isn't old-hat or blase to me yet. It's the most exciting thing that ever happened."

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