L.B.J. II--Marriage of Memos

Lyndon Johnson's account also revealed a relationship between husband and wife that perhaps few marriages can achieve or would require. At some level of living and begetting, presumably, they spoke in whispers. But at some other level--the children at boarding school, the investments divided--they exchanged memos. Fond memos. tender memos--but still memos--not dashed off, but surely edited. Putting the ultimate strain on public credulity, L.B.J. said that in May 1964 he had painfully committed to paper what he had told some close friends: "The times require leadership and a voice. I have learned after trying very hard that I am not that voice, or that leader."

Had he told his wife? Apparently not. She just saw a copy. "Mrs. John son read this statement and wrote me this note and said: 'Beloved'--and I knew the way she started off that she didn't agree with me." Now there is a man who understands his wife and her memo style. "Beloved, to step out now would be wrong for your country and I can see nothing but a lonely wasteland for your future. Your friends would be frozen in embarrassed silence, and your enemies would be jeering. I am not afraid of time or lies or defeat. I love you always. Bird." And so Johnson yielded to the country's call--and Lady Bird's.

By October of 1967, as Johnson told it, he had decided that there would be no second campaign (although in hindsight he now believes that he could have won). By January 1968, Lady Bird had come to agree that he ought to quit and, in fact, had drafted a paragraph (she "firmed it up pretty strong in her own handwriting") that might be included in the President's State of the Union message. But the statement was left behind on his bedroom telephone table. Freudian oversight?

Not until March 31 did he announce his decision to withdraw. But Johnson will not let the moment of his greatness rest--or even flicker. He goes back and back like a ghostly coroner seeking the cause of his own political death, finding it always in the faults of others.

The man whom his steadfast wife assured "I know that you are as brave as any of the 35 Presidents" might have been brave enough to let the record stand. Or at least, if the record must be edited, let Lady Bird do it.

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