Back to the Old Ways

THE PRESIDENCY Back to the Old Ways

Engrossed though he was with the economy, the President somehow managed to be in on just about everything else in Washington last week. Since his gall bladder operation six months ago, Lyndon Johnson has stayed more or less to himself in the White House, showing little of the freewheeling quality of his pre-operation days. Last week he seemed to break out and, for the first time in months, become truly himself again -- that is to say, elementally energetic, maddeningly moody and utterly unpredictable.

Johnson set the tone for the week by dancing into the wee hours after Indian Prime Minister Indira Gandhi had gone home at midnight, following a state dinner in her honor at the White House. He signaled the scarlet-coated Marine Band to strike up Hello, Dolly!, fox-trotted with more than a dozen partners. Despite the rule that nobody leaves a social event before the President does, only a handful of the 140 guests managed to outlast him. Even Aides Marvin Watson and Jack Valenti, one of whom usually escorts the President to his White House bedroom each night, ducked out quietly while their boss danced on.

"I Sat Trembling." Ever since the President decided on the spur of the moment to drop in on the Gridiron Club dinner last month, Washington has not quite known just where he will turn up next. He unexpectedly stayed for Mrs. Gandhi's black-tie dinner at the Indian embassy. Later in the week he popped over to a United Service Organizations dinner for Bob Hope at the Washington Hilton, presented the comedian with a plaque commending him for his entertainment of U.S. servicemen. "It's nice to be here in Washington," said Hope, "or, as the Republicans call it, Camp Runamuck. It's nice to be here in Birdland." The President was equal to the occasion. Hope, he said, "is an actor who isn't, as far as I know -- at least now -- running for public office. And he is a frequent visitor to Viet Nam who has never been asked to testify before the Senate Foreign Relations Committee -- at least not yet."

All week, Johnson showed the old hunkered-down, lapel-tugging virtuosity, his hands flying, his words pulsing, his fists mashing the air for emphasis. At an unexpected and impromptu press conference after a Cabinet room ceremony, he twitted the press for predicting trouble over a supplemental bill that had just passed easily: "That was a great issue, and you all had your backgrounders up on the future fall of the Johnson Administration. I sat trembling, waiting for the announcement of that roll call."

He scornfully chided the reporters for swallowing a Washington Post report, apparently based on a tip from the State Department, that U. Alexis Johnson would be named Ambassador to Japan: "I do not want any of you to take seriously some kid's statement over at the State Department." Later, the White House changed the phrase to "someone's statement."

Burns on the Carpet. With an eye for the smallest detail, Johnson also found time to snuff out a smoldering--though minor--crisis that involved the reporters. Having recently discovered two cigarette burns on the carpet of his oval office, the President, who stopped smoking after his 1955 heart attack, told Secret Service men to order reporters entering the office to ditch their lighted cigarettes. He also took to thrusting ashtrays at visitors, and recently, while walking with a guest outside his office, swooped down to pick up a crushed butt and dump it in an ashtray.

The high point of his anti-ash campaign came when he dropped in--unexpectedly, of course--at a press briefing conducted by Agriculture Secretary Orville Freeman. Seating himself next to New York Timesman Felix Belair Jr., the President began fidgeting when he noticed that the ash on Belair's cigarette was lengthening inexorably. Ostentatiously, he reached over and dragged a stand-up ashtray to the reporter's side. Too late; the offending ash broke loose and rained onto the green carpet. Mortified, Belair quickly followed it down, kneeling to scoop it up with his notebook. As the ash disappeared into the ashtray, the President of the U.S. appeared quietly pleased.

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