At the Perigee

The mercurial man who is President of the U.S. is given to periods of great ebullience and monumental gloom. Lately Lyndon Johnson has found himself at the perigee. He is more somber, subdued and preoccupied than at almost any time since he entered the White House.

This brooding mood was apparent in his lackluster performance at the United Nations' 20th anniversary celebration in San Francisco two weeks ago. In Austin, Texas, last week, he slipped away from church services without stopping for the usual round of friendly handshaking. The green fields and warming sun at his Texas ranch normally soothe him, but he was so restless that he cut short a projected ten-day stay there after only two days and headed back for Washington--despite the fact that he has come to refer to the White House as "Lonely Acres." During ceremonies inaugurating the Early Bird satellite's commercial operations, the President sat glumly in the Cabinet Room, his chin on his fist, as speeches by Britain's Harold Wilson and other world leaders were piped in over loudspeakers.

He could record a new legislative victory--House approval of his $5.3 billion housing bill. But the key vote, on a controversial rent-subsidy plan for low-income families, was too close (208 to 202) to give him much comfort. And next day he bolted from the swearing-in ceremonies for General William F. ("Bozo") McKee as new Federal Aviation Agency Administrator without lingering to greet the guests, even though they included the kind of people he usually likes to see--retired Air Force Generals Curt LeMay, Tommy Power and Nate Twining.

The Big Worry. There were reasons enough for President Johnson to fret. Congress was beginning to resist, and that attitude went not only for the Republican opposition but also for liberal Democrats, who were getting tired of hearing about how they jump through a hoop whenever L.B.J. cracks the whip. On Wall Street, the stock market was bouncing back, but its recent gyrations betrayed nervousness about the durability of the record U.S. boom. In the Dominican Republic, the stalemate between junta and rebels was beginning to look like a permanent condition.

What worried the President more than anything else was the Viet Nam war. A lifetime of negotiating with reasonably fair-minded men in the cloakrooms of Congress hardly prepared him for coping with an enemy that rejects any negotiations. As he has come to see it, practically the only alternative left to him is to raise the ante--more equipment, more men and, worst of all, more casualties. He does not like the idea, but he sees no other way out. Lately he has taken to asking friends and critics alike, "What would you do?" So far, no one has come up with an answer that satisfies him.

Not All the Way. Part of Lyndon Baines Johnson's problem is his conviction that anything less than "All the way With L.B.J." is inadequate. His popularity is up to an impressive 70% in the polls, but his image is less than lustrous on U.S. campuses and in foreign chancelleries, and his awareness of this gnaws at him. What frustrates him even more is the steady strain of criticism from the press, whose columnists and White House reporters he has courted and cajoled but never really won. Last week the buzz rose by several decibels in the wake of an extravagantly adulatory speech by one of his own aides (see following story) that became the target of jeering Washington comment, including a slashing Herblock cartoon.

It was, perhaps, in one of those necessary moods of self-consolation that the President, during a visit to the Commerce Department last week, told members of the department's staff: "You are always going to have some unpleasant experiences. But the people will take care of you if you just do right."

This file is automatically generated by a robot program, so reader's discretion is required.