THE SIXTH CONVERSATION

We left off last time at the—after the meeting at Vienna, when Khrushchev brought up the whole Berlin thing in a very tough way.¹ You remember the President said to him, "It looks as if it's going to be a long, cold winter." The whole Berlin business, of course, involved constant relations with the Germans. What was the President's feeling about these dealings with West Germany?

As I said before, he tried so hard not to bring problems that irritated him all day home. For himself really more than me, but that was one thing that he—that just irritated him so and he'd say, "What do you have to do to show the Germans that you care?"—that we would defend Berlin. And then it would always—it just seemed the least tiny thing could happen—some colonel drop his hat on the Autobahn and it would give—Adenauer would start flaming up all over again, and saying that we were going to pull out, and the ambassador here, Grewe, would come running in. And Jack really got irritated with the Germans. And, I remember after the missile crisis, which is much later, he got so irritated with de Gaulle because—what did de Gaulle say? That because we jumped in to take care of Cuba, it showed we only were interested in the things nearer our shores and not over there. Well, when you think of it, it wasn't until after his visit to Berlin in June '63 that he finally did convince them. And then he was really happy after that. And then all these leaks to the—to the press. The Germans were always doing that, leaking to the press both in Germany and in Washington, little things of lack of confidence. Adenauer, something he'd say about him—I guess he sort of admired Adenauer, but he said, "Look at that man, eighty-nine, just hanging on so hard." I forget when Adenauer left.² But he said, "Can you imagine it, and trying desperately to get back in again?" And, you know, Adenauer really gave him a pain. But I can remember the Berlin crisis, just sort of coming all through that—I guess was it the—

It was constant really from the middle of—summer of 1962 until the Cuban crisis.

So, it was then a year after Vienna that it finally came and he made a speech?³

Yeah, no, I mean from the summer of 1961. It began the summer of Vienna and it went from there until the Cuban crisis, really, in November '62.

Well, when did he make his Berlin speech?

He made his speech in June 1961, after he got back from Vienna. He made the speech calling for an enlargement of the military, of the defense budget.

But is that when he said, "We do not like to fight but we have fought before."

Um-hmm.

And "They said that Stalingrad was untenable and free men have always fought"—yeah, and "They said Stalingrad was untenable," and this and that, and "We do not like to fight, but we have fought before."⁴ Anyway, I could just remember one of the few times—I always thought with Jack that anything, he could make—once he was in control, anything, all the best things would happen. In this childish way, I thought, "I won't have to be afraid when I go to sleep at night or wake up." But you could see after that Khrushchev meeting, I mean, he was really in a gloom, which he wouldn't talk about, but you could just tell by a sort of—a certain quietness and lowness. So, I thought—I remember a couple of times, just a little shooting pain of fright going through me, thinking is—"Cannot even Jack make this turn out for the best?" And so this mounting thing—and then, when he was going to go on television to speak of Berlin, all the tension and everything around the White House. And I can remember again him march—and scribbling on the pages and, you know, for a few days before. And maybe he'd read me a line or something. But, and then I can remember that day, looking out—my dressing room window looked on the Rose Garden—and his office and all the television cables, and I remember thinking, "Shall I go over in his office and watch it?" But then I thought, "No, that might make him more nervous," or "People would start taking pictures, or something. I'd better just watch it up here." And, well, that was one of the grimmest speeches I've ever seen him make.

It was probably the grimmest speech he gave.

Yeah. And you just couldn't believe that you were sitting there thinking that, well, you really might have to go to war. And then—

Grimmest speech except, of course, for the Cuban Missile speech.

That was sort of the first one, so it almost frightened me more because by the time of the missile crisis—of course, you were scared all through it, but, you know, Berlin was the first one and then it did turn out all right. So, well, that's what I remember about that.

Yes, Berlin was the—really the big thing in the summer and fall of '61, and then as a result of our reaction, you remember, Khrushchev then extended the deadline and so—

That's right.

In, I believe, November.

And then, I remember thinking a couple of times how true it was—something rather interesting about Jack that he had by nature, and in politics I used to see it, this conciliatory nature, which never meant that you sort of sucked around people or tried to curry favor, but—what did he say? Pol—"In politics you don't have friends," or something, "you have colleagues," or—

Interests—was it?

No, it's—is it "You don't have friends or allies, you have colleagues"—well, you can look it up. But I often used to say to him, some man would come to dinner, a newspaperman or a politician, and I'd say, "But you were so nice to him," or "You're speaking nicely about him, and I was so mad about him for what he wrote two weeks ago or said two weeks ago that I've been cutting that man dead all day, and now I'm meant to be nice to him?" And Jack would say, "Of course, you know, that's all over, and then he did this and that." So, you know, his relationships always changed and he never made it hard for anyone to come back and be forgiven or, you know, go on in a new relationship with him. Which was so true in marriage too. It just carried him to every phase. And I remember thinking, "Thank God he has that side and not that old funny Dulles side where nobody, you know, where you'd have to make people grovel so!"⁵ And I remember thinking of the Inaugural Address—"Let's never negotiate out of fear"⁶—because I thought how humiliating really for Khrushchev to have to back down. And yet, somehow Jack let him do it with grace and didn't rub his nose in it.⁷ And somehow, that was the quality which we should all be the most grateful for. It's how we got through all these crises.

Yes, it was a marvelous thing this—to leave a way for your opponent to retreat and preserve his dignity.

Yeah. And if you wanted lots of popularity in the newspapers or something, you'd go around shouting things about "No one's going to tell him to say this to America," and then you'd just be, everybody'd be shooting before you knew it. So, it's that side of him which—it was always so easy when you were married. I mean, a little tiny thing might come up that would cloud—but you never really had a fight, but I might say something that would sort of hurt his feelings and there'd be a certain quietness that day. And then suddenly, I'd come running and say, "Oh, I'm so sorry!" and throw my arms around him, and he'd just laugh and everything was over. He never would hold, or make you really—that just ran all through his personality. And you know, Bobby's getting it—and it was a side of Bobby that's lacking a bit which he's developing much more now and which since November he's spoken to me so much about Jack, the side that he admired in him so much. It was really easier for Jack to be that way when he had Bobby doing a lot of the things. But it was also much more part of his personality. Bobby will get that way.

As the Berlin thing was dying down in November, Nehru came and made his visit—

Yes, and—that was a rather nerve-wracking visit.⁸ Lots of consultations with Galbraith, and everything. And Galbraith kept saying Nehru wanted no fuss, and everything private. And I remember Jack had shown me a memorandum the winter before about—was it Sihanouk of Cambodia?

Prince—yeah, Prince Sihanouk.

Well, anyway, who—from the State Department—it was saying, "This man will say that he wants nothing special, no treatment, but yet he'll be furious if you don't lay the red carpet out and sort of have throngs." So Jack sort of was wondering whether Galbraith's advice was quite right because he thought Nehru would like a lot more pomp. But no, Galbraith thought he just wanted to be received in our home. Well, Hyannis just seemed a little too depressing, so we went to Newport and we met him at—whatever that air force base is there.⁹ He came over with his daughter and Galbraith and the Indian ambassador, B. K. Nehru. And Jack had had a most unsatisfactory time with Nehru when he'd been a congressman in India. He said they'd warned him, "Whenever Nehru gets bored with you, he taps his fingertips together and looks up at the ceiling." And Jack said he'd been there about ten minutes when Nehru started to look up at the ceiling.

When had they met?—I hadn't realized they'd met before.

Well, Jack had toured the Far East with Bobby and Pat.¹⁰

Was it '51?

It was before we were married.

Yeah, '50 or '51.¹¹

It was when he met General de Lattre, whom he was so impressed with.¹² That's when he nearly died in Okinawa. If Bobby hadn't come in, he would have died then. He got a fever of 105 or -6. And he met Nehru on that trip, I think. So, anyway, they came and it was decided the men would eat in the dining room. Angie Duke was there too.¹³ And Mrs. Gandhi¹⁴and I would have a little ladies' lunch in the living room—and Lem Billings was with us.¹⁵ Well, of course, she hated that. She liked to be in with the men. And she is a real prune—bitter, kind of pushy, horrible woman. You know, I just don't like her a bit. It always looks like she's been sucking a lemon. And Jack brought Nehru back on the Honey Fitz and Caroline and I were waiting for him at the front door, which she'd picked a little flower for him and made a curtsey. That's the first time he sort of smiled. And then we went and had a drink before lunch and Nehru never said one word. It was just such heavy going. You could ask him something, anything. Just that real Hindu thing—you learn it in India, that they don't look on social gatherings as a time to speak. I don't know if they're contemplating—but I also say it's just damned spoiled brattishness because you should make an effort when other people are trying. So anyway, they had their lunch, and I don't know what they talked about. And then we all went back in the helicopter, Nehru in the best seat, Caroline on Jack's lap next to him, back to Washington. And that night they came for dinner. And I think it was when—anyway, it was the first dinner of that fall in the White House. And we lit the fire in the Oval Room¹⁶ and then went downstairs to meet them at the front door. And of course, somebody hadn't opened the flue of the fireplace, so when we came back in that room the smoke was just so thick and everyone's eyes were pouring. That wasn't a very good start. And it was meant to be, as you remember, a rather small dinner, but yet it wasn't quite small enough or big enough because we were in the State Dining Room, and just enough of us so that it was rather like sitting in a church with not enough people there. And I remember Jack told me later that Mrs. Gandhi, all through dinner, really lit out at Jack on our policy somewhere and this and that and she said lots of nice things about Krishna Menon¹⁷ and everything. And you know, Jack really didn't like her. My sister was there and I so badly wanted her to sit next to Nehru, who should have sat next to Lady Bird. And so I said, "What shall I do?" And Jack said, "Call up Lady Bird before because she might expect to go and ask her if it's all right." Which I did, and she was sweet, and understood. Which just shows one more thoughtfulness that Jack always had for his vice president. Well, Nehru does sort of like pretty women in the most unlecherous way. But it's just the only—he sort of talked between Lee and I, and you could get him to say something about something and make a little joke. So, he was rather nice then. And I think he asked us to come to India. I think that's when he did it. That's when the whole idea started. And that's the part I remember. Oh, he always took—there's a picture of him taking my arm.

Yes, yes.

Well, we got sort of, to be a little bit friends in Newport, and then the helicopter and the plane. And you know, he always takes your arm. He was sort of sweet to me and they did bring the most touching, thoughtful presents for the children and—little boxes, little costumes, nothing very fabulous. So they'd obviously cared about the trip and had this chip on their shoulder, I don't know. We tried to be so nice to them. And then the next night there was a big dinner at the Indian embassy and again I sat next to Nehru. I found him very easy and charming, you know, and he seemed to so like to have someone make a—you know, I always felt that he liked me. But I just think it was really sticky going in the conferences.

What did the President—did the President say anything afterwards? Was he disappointed in Nehru?

I think he was. I think the meetings got absolutely nowhere and there was an awful lot of tapping the fingers and looking up at the ceiling. And you know, "Nehru's like trying"—did Jack say that about Nehru or someone else? "It's like trying to grab in your hand something and it turns out to just be fog." And that's what it was like. And I think Nehru—in a way he was—would you say jealous of Jack, or something? Well, it was just someone so different than—

THE KENNEDYS AND PRIME MINISTER JAWAHARLAL NEHRU AT THE INDIAN EMBASSY, NOVEMBER 9, 1961
Abbie Rowe, National Park Service/John F. Kennedy Library and Museum, Boston

I think the generational thing played its part here. I think he must—I'm sure he—infinitely—was infinitely pleased that a man like Jack Kennedy was President of the United States, but on the other hand, a young, brilliant man half his age was bound to make him feel uncomfortable.

And then Mrs. Gandhi, his daughter, who's one of those women who when marriage and love and all those things don't turn out right, it's as if something—It all goes back inside you and the poison works inside like an ulcer, so she's a truly bitter woman. And she's the kind of woman who's always hated Jack. You can name so many violently liberal women in politics who were always suspicious of Jack. And they always loved Adlai. And I thought one reason—this is just my own sort of psychology—but that Jack so obviously demanded from a woman—a relationship between a man and a woman where a man would be the leader and a woman would be his wife and look up to him as a man. With Adlai you could have another relationship where—you know, he'd sort of be sweet and you could talk, but you wouldn't ever—wouldn't ever come down to a definite thing. I always thought women who were scared of sex loved Adlai—because there would never be the—

The challenge wasn't there at all.

Yeah. Not that there'd be the challenge with Jack but it was a different kind of man. So, you know, all these sort of twisted, poor little women whose lives hadn't worked out could find a balm in Adlai. And Jack made them nervous, which I used to tell—Jack would say, "Why doesn't so and so . . . " and I'd say, "Jack, it's the greatest compliment to you." Which is, I know, is true. He didn't quite see it. He said that about your wife, as a matter of fact.

Oh, really?

He was very upset—when you came out for him, then a day or so later Marian came out for Adlai Stevenson—and he couldn't understand why because he'd—I think he'd just been down to lunch the day or so before, or a week before, and had a very nice time. You know, and he liked Marian and everything.¹⁸ Well, I said, "That's because Arthur's so mean to her, [Schlesinger laughs] and Adlai was so nice." "I saw them together later, you know." I said, "That's different, that's her own personal problem, you know. That's got nothing to do with you. You mustn't hold it against Marian." And then later on when we were all in the White House together, then he—loved her and saw that she didn't really dislike him.

Oh, no, Marian, I may say, lived to regret that. I got such a—I remember a funny letter from Bobby after that. Something—he was writing about something else and he had a postscript to the effect, "I see you can't control your wife any better than I can control mine."¹⁹ You know, that was an act of old loyalty on Marian's part.

Yeah.

She thought I was—shouldn't, you know—²⁰

But I mean, in my marriage, I could never conceive—and I remember I said it in an interview once, and all these women—we got all these irate letters—someone said, "Where do you get your opinions?" And I said, "I get all my opinions from my husband." Which is true. How could I have any political opinions, you know? His were going to be the best. And I could never conceive of not voting for whoever my husband was for. Anyone who I'd be married to. I suppose if I was married to—well, you know. So that was just so strange because that was—I mean, it was really a rather terribly Victorian or Asiatic relationship which we had, which I had—

Yeah, a Japanese wife.

Yeah, which I think's the best. But anyway, that was Mrs. Gandhi.

She was a rancorous woman, and spiteful. I mean, she exuded spite. Was Nehru different on his home ground?²¹

Well, he was terribly sweet again to Lee and I, and he would come home every afternoon and take us for walks in the garden and we'd feed the pandas, and I think what he liked—one of his sisters, Mrs. Hutheesing—I guess she's the rather right-wing one who lives in Bombay, but she's great fun.²² And she said to me—she'd come into Lee and my room and talk. And she said, "It's so good for my brother to have you two girls here. It's some relaxation." Because she says his daughter fills the poor man's life with politics. It's politics at lunch, politics at tea, politics at dinner. He never has any relaxation. So that visit—I mean, nothing profound was talked about or even that we were going to Pakistan next, but, you know, it was a relaxation for him—the kind of thing I'd try to bring into Jack's life in our evenings at home. Someone who wasn't connected with what was worrying him all day. And so he just loved that trip and we got to be—well, he used to walk me back to my bedroom every night—two nights, I think, we were there, and sit in there for about an hour and talk to me.

PRIME MINISTER NEHRU AND JACQUELINE KENNEDY IN INDIA
USIS/John F. Kennedy Library and Museum, Boston

And he'd be lively, would he? He wouldn't have this kind of vacant, passive—

Well, never lively, but sort of gentle and he would talk and he has those great brown eyes. I'd read all his autobiography and I'd ask him about some of those, you know, times—and he talked.

What would he talk about? About his own past and—

Well, I asked him about the times in prison, and everything—his life. And yeah, he'd talk about some of that. Or else he'd talk about people there, or make a little joke. He always was so—I've written it all down somewhere, everything we talked about, so maybe I can find it. It's the only thing I ever wrote down.

Oh, good. No, let's find that and the Library should have a copy.²³ The other big thing that happened in the fall of '61, or another one, was the resumption of nuclear testing by the Soviet Union and then—which confronted us with the problem of whether we should resume nuclear testing or not.²⁴ That was an old interest of the President's, was it?

Yes. I can remember him being so worried at the time about our resuming, and how long you should—you could possibly put it off and then everyone—I mean, that was a terrible time for him. There was nothing that worried him more through—would it be '61 and '62?—than all this testing. But it started so long ago. Because I can remember when David Gore came to Hyannis the fall we were married—would be October or November 1953—and he was doing something at the UN on disarmament and he and Jack were talking. And you know, it was the first time I'd ever heard—it seemed so extraordinary—you never saw it in newspapers here. That you should sort of disarm or come to some agreement and then that would be possible without selling out or—you know, when you always thought all the Bertrand Russells²⁵ and "ban the bombers" and people were all sort of "pinks"—I mean, I just thought this from reading David Lawrence²⁶ in the newspapers. And I remember then—from then on, Jack started to say in his speeches that it was a disgrace that there were less than a hundred people working on disarmament in Washington—or less than ten, maybe.

Less than a hundred.

Less than a hundred. But he said that in all—and I think he said it all through his Senate campaign.²⁷ He certainly said it all through his campaign for the presidency, you know, but it started so long ago that he was thinking about that. And in a way, then David Gore came back again—in maybe '58 or—yes, or '57—I don't know what year he and Sissy came to the Cape. Again they'd be talking about that. And I remember when Harold Macmillan resigned last summer.²⁸ Well, Jack was so sad for that man—that he should have to go out in all the messy, sad way he did, you know, and he said, "People really don't realize what Macmillan has done," and he said he was the greatest friend of the Atlantic Alliance. But he said this nuclear disarmament thing—he just cared about that for so long. So that's what I tried—and then he sent him this touching telegram and I remember poor Macmillan then.²⁹ Not many people were saying nice things to him. And David asked if the telegram could be made public, and Jack said, "Of course." And that's what I tried to put in when I talked to him on Telstar³⁰ just last week on Jack's—what would have been his forty-seventh birthday. You know, the things that I knew that Jack thought about him, and I found that telegram and read it and tried to say what Jack had said about him—and I kept thinking, "I just hope de Gaulle's listening." Not that anything matters now.

I have the impression that we would not have had a test ban treaty if both the President and the prime minister had not been so deeply committed and forced the issue so constantly on their advisers.³¹

I know. I know that's true, and I also think having David Gore here at the time made it—

Indispensable, yes.

Yeah. Sometimes—well, we can go into that relationship at another time, but so many things happened. He would come for dinner, and something awful would be going wrong in British Guiana or somewhere, and he would—all the time of Skybolt he was with us—and he would call and everything would be kept smooth. But what I just wanted to say about—I was thinking when I thought of Jack and Macmillan really making this test ban thing possible—of just how outrageous of de Gaulle. Of the one thing that really matters and that egomaniac not to be associated with that when that's going to be the one thing that matters in this whole century. And then Graham Sutherland, who's a painter, who I saw a couple of weeks ago about doing a picture of Jack—but he said something to me so interesting. He said, "The extraordinary thing about President Kennedy was that power made him a better man," and he said it made so many people worse men. He knew Winston Churchill. He painted him. He said Winston, you know, became less nice—and of course, it made Adenauer meaner. And of course, de Gaulle was the classic example. Well, it made—Jack a chance to work for good and I really think Harold Macmillan too.

Do you have any memory of the President's impression of people like Arthur Dean, or McCloy or Foster, in connection with the test ban?³²

Not really.

This again was one of those prolonged things that kept dragging on for a long time.

PRIME MINISTER HAROLD MACMILLAN AND JACQUELINE KENNEDY IN FRONT OF NUMBER TEN DOWNING STREET, LONDON, 1961
U. S. Dept. of State/John F. Kennedy Library and Museum, Boston

Yeah. And oh, the discouragement, and then you just think of Arthur Dean. I remember I used to feel sorry for him—just sitting in Geneva all his life—because I'd been in that depressing city. And now that's the kind of thing you wouldn't talk about at night. But I don't remember hearing him say he was disappointed with anyone or—I remember him saying wonderful things about Harriman—

Yes. When Harriman came in at the end it was a—I think the Russians feel that when Harriman is sent to negotiate that the United States means business, and that that was absolutely necessary to—³³

And it was very touching, Jack's relationship with Harriman, because, of course there were all these young men around, and here was this man who went back so many administrations. But he just kept going up and up, didn't he?—and getting to do more and more important things, and then Jack was so happy, saying for Averell—well, he was so happy for Averell Harriman really after the test ban treaty, he thought—you know, that "That's really quite a crown." And there'd been something in Teddy White's book, a little footnote, about Averell Harriman, saying that he had done all these extraordinary things in foreign policy, but that domestically everything he'd done was disastrous.³⁴ And I remember Jack feeling sort of sorry for him when he read that part of the book and feeling so happy that this crowning thing came at the end for Averell Harriman.³⁵

In—

I gave him a copy of the test ban treaty which the Archives³⁶ did especially for me—you can't tell it from the original—when we left his house after he lent it to us after November.

That's wonderful. It was in that winter that—in that fall and winter—that Hickory Hill began and in the winter of '62, there was a meeting at the White House which David Donald, who is a professor at Princeton, spoke about the Civil War.³⁷ I wasn't there, but the President mentioned it to me later. He apparently found it stimulating.

Yes, those seminars that Bobby did—well, Jack always wanted to go to them but he just wanted to go to hear you. I mean he'd heard that you'd finished Jackson and everything and it was an effort to go out, so finally when he heard there was going to be an interesting one, which was this Civil War-Reconstruction thing, he said, "Let's have it at the White House." It was the first one—it was meant to have been at the Gilpatrics. And it was so strange because I remember when the question period started, everyone was very quiet and rather nervous in the White House and the President there, and Jack asked Donald, "Do you think"—it's the one thing that was on his mind—"Would Lincoln have been as great a President if he'd lived?" I mean, would he be judged as great—because he would have had this almost insoluble problem of the Reconstruction, which, you know, either way you did it would have dissatisfied so many people. That was his question. And Donald, really by going round and round, had agreed with him that Lincoln, you know, it was better—was better for Lincoln that he died when he did. And then I remember Jack saying after the Cuban Missile Crisis, when it all turned so fantastically, he said, "Well, if anyone's ever going to shoot me, this would be the day they should do it."³⁸

Oh, really?

I mean, it's so strange, these things that come back, because he saw then that he would be—you know, he said, it will never top this. Strange those things come back now.

Had that Lincoln question that he asked Donald—one that he discussed before? Been on his mind?

Oh, yes, because all the time we discussed it. The first year I was married, I took a course in American history at the Georgetown School of Foreign Service from Professor Jules Davids, who was this brilliant man. And I'd never taken American history and I used to come home full of these things and I was so excited—Thaddeus Stevens and the radical Republicans, I can remember. And these awful poems they were writing about Lincoln. And Jack was excited that I was so interested. And then when he was doingProfiles in Courage, I told him how great Davids was, and he had him do some research on it. So at that time, we would talk a lot about Lincoln and the Reconstruction, and, you know, if he lived and that—and that was back when we were married was '53, '54, and then his book was '54–'55—so we talked about it years before.

There was another Hickory Hill meeting at the White House—Isaiah Berlin.

Where they talked about Russia.

Yes.

Yeah, well, Jack loved that and he loved to just listen to Isaiah Berlin.³⁹ I mean, that was the side—you should read this article in Show magazine now, which I think is quite unfair in its judgment of Jack but it starts from the premise that Melbourne was his favorite book and says what he really was most like were these great Whig houses and Whig liberal families who, you know, had everything and lived a stimulating life, yet cared. Well, he loved all those brilliant English people. He used to tell me about going to Emerald Cunard's⁴⁰ when he was a boy in London with his father to listen. When we were in London together, we'd go to the old Duchess of Devonshire's for lunch and she'd have a couple of people around. I mean, he loved so to hear those people talk. Or hear David. You know, they knew so much, their educations were so incredible. That's when he was happiest. So he loved Isaiah Berlin.

Do you want to say something about the relationship of David? Because I think that was a very fundamental thing in all this. I have the impression he talked with greater—more intimately with David than with any member of the—

Yeah.

—of his own cabinet.

Well, I suppose—

Outside of Bobby.

Exactly. And if I could think of anyone now who could save the Western world, it would be David Gore. But—well, they started as friends obviously in London, and Kathleen, who was Jack's favorite sister, was Sissy's best friend. And, I guess, David was the closest of all those friends then. I mean, so many of them ended up with rather sad lives, or this or that.

This is back in '38–'39.

Yeah. Hugh Fraser was sort of a friend, but not very bright, and you'd always wonder if Hugh would get a job in some government and he never did, or it was a pathetic one. But whenever David was here, we'd see him and Jack used to say that David Gore was the brightest man he'd ever met. He used to say that he and Bundy were. But he'd say that David more so than Bundy because Bundy's intelligence is almost so—it's so highly tuned that he couldn't often see the larger thing around him. I mean, David was more rooted, more compassionate. I can't describe it.

David has more wisdom, I think, than—Mac is a brilliantly intelligent man but David's judgment is more—

And David has also the conciliatory sort of side that Jack did. You know, Bundy can get mad and then sort of arrogant and then make conciliation impossible. And Bundy in the missile crisis, when you think of that great mind, in the beginning he wanted to go in and bomb Cuba. And at the end, he wanted to do nothing. So, if you'd been relying on that great intelligence, look where we'd be? But—

How often would he see David?

Well, we'd see them a lot. We'd always see them. They would stay with us, usually on vacations, or they'd come for a weekend to Camp David, or the country, or the Cape. Or they'd come for dinner maybe once a month or so. You stopped asking them too much. We used to do it rather spontaneously, and of course they'd be involved in something official and then they'd get out of it, so I thought I just can't do that to them. So we didn't see them as much as we would have. We would have seen them every week if they hadn't been ambassador.

It killed the Alphands, as it was.⁴¹

And they'd always be talking on the phone. So many times, "Get me the British ambassador." And David would tell you sometimes of the extraordinary places he'd been when he was ferreted out to talk to Jack. And as I said, with David—well, there was this one thing about British Guiana which one night David really was worried about and Jack said, "Well, what shall I do?" and it was against rather our position, but David said, "You should call U Thant"⁴² and tell him whatever it was. So anyway, Jack did that and everything, you know, worked out well. And then this Skybolt thing—after Nassau,⁴³ David came back to Florida with us and, of course, the next day the whole thing blew up. Godfrey McHugh came tearing in, saying, "Have you heard the wonderful news, Mr. President? They've just shot off Skybolt and it worked," or something. And Jack said, "What? Goddamn you, Godfrey, get out of here!" And he—so, anyway, he and David sat there and everything was so awful. And they called Gilpatric, and McNamara was away and then David went into another room and called Harold Macmillan. But you know, that closeness kept—well, I mean, everything could have blown apart between England and America then. And of all Jack's friends now, David Gore's the one, I'd say next to Bobby and me, he's the one who's been the most wounded.⁴⁴ Perhaps that's not fair, but he's the friend that I'll always see for the rest of my life. So many of the others I can't bear to see because I miss—Jack's lacking. I mean, the Bartletts, the Bradlees, the people you saw like that. Anyway—

Well, David is one of the—sort of intellectually and emotionally he's a rich person, and a generous one, and—

And he's not—ambitious. I always kept hoping he'd give up his title and be prime minister one day, but I think he'll be foreign secretary. He's not—he doesn't have this drive that Jack did, but he still cares. I suppose he can do as much that way.

Well, I've been after him too to try to get him to give up his title, but it's clear that he's probably not—not going to do it.

It isn't because he cares that much about his title. It's just that he's never been pushy.

That's right. He thinks if he does this it will signal the fact that he wants to be prime minister, which he thinks is an absurd thing for him to want to be. Well, of course, it isn't. In the winter of or in early spring of '63, one big thing, of course, was the steel crisis and—were you—you were around then?⁴⁵

And I remember how really outraged Jack was. You know, it's one of the few times—he really controlled his temper. I mean, you never saw him lose it, but just sometimes that flash. I mean, he was really—what Roger Blough did to him—

He felt that Roger Blough had double-crossed him.

Yes. I just remember the expression. His mouth was really tight. And you just didn't do that, you just didn't behave that way. Bobby said to me later that if we'd known the people like André Meyer or something, or had more friends in that community, perhaps it could have all been arranged with less bitterness. But then I can remember that it was back and forth between his office and the White House and calling everyone and getting—Clark Clifford was the one person they found who they thought the others would trust—and sending him up to negotiate and which person would back out. It was the man—I met him the other day.

From Chicago.

Was it Laughlin?⁴⁶ Or whichever company first broke, and he was at the Library dinner for Jack. Oh, and then I remember Bobby saying to me later, November, that—Remember how it said in the press that the FBI got sent into everybody's home at night or something—the reporters—

Woke up reporters at two in the morning.

Bobby was talking about how awful J. Edgar Hoover's been since Jack died and the way he curries favor with Lyndon Johnson by sending him all these awful reports about everyone. Bobby said that he'd always, you know, tried to deal so nicely with Hoover and whenever anything—anything the FBI ever did well, it was fine with him if Hoover took credit for it and anything the FBI ever did badly, you know, Bobby would take credit for it. And that was all the FBI, not Bobby, who sent those people in—which was what really caused an awful lot of the bitterness against Jack, wasn't it?

Yes. Yeah. Sort of sounds like—

I mean, I can't remember who they wrote up, or what reporter they would be waking up right now. But I remember Jack being upset at that.

Arthur Goldberg played an active role in this steel thing and Ted Sorensen, I suppose, I imagine. But the President was really—

It seems to me mostly Jack on the phone and Clark Clifford. But I suppose all the rest went on in the office—I don't know.

Would you say that this—he was madder over this than anything else, on any other occasion in the administration?

I think just after Roger Blough came in his office and told him that—you know, a flare. And as I say, the second closest thing I've seen to it is sometimes after the Germans have done one more damn irritating but relatively minor thing. Yes, I would say the steel thing. And then it changed from madness—I mean, all the time he was acting in the crisis, he wasn't acting out of madness and temper. Then it was just trying to see how you could—then he was working it like a chess board. Well, I guess you just don't do that.

How about Governor Barnett in Mississippi? Was he mad then or was he more—I suppose he was less—he felt betrayed by Blough. He had no reason, I guess, to expect Barnett to act differently from the way he did.⁴⁷

Well, you see, Barnett—it was just so hopeless. And you knew the man was an inferior, welshing person to begin with. There was never rage there, it was—oh, I don't know, just hopeless. And you know what I can remember? I was in Newport in bed and he called me—it was that night—and at five o'clock in the morning, the phone rang and I guess he'd just gone back to the White House after staying up all night and, you know, I was so touched that he called me because he just wanted to talk, and he'd said, "Oh, my God!" You wouldn't realize what it had been like and I guess when, you know, the tear gas started to run out and the troops that were meant to get there in an hour were still four hours away. And I guess that was just one of the worst nights of his whole life.

Was the civil rights thing something he talked much about?

You know, it was over such a long period of time, and there were always—all the Barnetts and then the Wallaces,⁴⁸ and I mean one sort of awful problem after another, and first thinking that Little Rock had been so badly handled, I guess he thought, and then you see him presented with an almost worse Little Rock⁴⁹—Oxford and—oh, yeah, and then with—

What did he think of the Negro leaders? Martin Luther King, for example? Did he ever mention—

Well, I don't think—I don't know what he—well, I do know what he thought of him later. Well, he said what an incredible speaker he was during that freedom march thing and—and he acknowledged that having made that call during the campaign got them—Then he told me of a tape that the FBI had of Martin Luther King when he was here for the freedom march. And he said this with no bitterness or anything, how he was calling up all these girls and arranging for a party of men and women, I mean, sort of an orgy in the hotel, and everything.⁵⁰

Martin Luther King?

Oh, yeah. At first he said, oh, well, you know—and I said, "Oh, but Jack, that's so terrible. I mean, that man is, you know, such a phony then." No, this wasn't—this was when it was just one girl, they had the conversation. And Jack said, "Oh, well"—you know, he would never judge anyone in any sort of way—oh, well, you know—he never really said anything against Martin Luther King. Since then, Bobby's told me of the tapes of these orgies they have and how Martin Luther King made fun of Jack's funeral.

Oh no.

He made fun of Cardinal Cushing and said that he was drunk at it. And things about they almost dropped the coffin and—well, I mean Martin Luther King is really a tricky person. But I wouldn't know—he never said anything against Martin Luther King to me, so I don't know. Bobby would be the one to find out what he ever really thought of him in that way. But Bobby told me later. I just can't see a picture of Martin Luther King without thinking, you know, that man's terrible. I know at the time of the freedom march when they all came in his office, well, he was always—I think he was touched by Philip Randolph.⁵¹

Philip Randolph's very impressive. He's an older man and has great dignity.

Yeah, and all that and he was very worried about that freedom march. It turned out all right, I guess.

Worried that it might lead to violence?

Well, yes, everyone was worried, weren't they? And—but you know, civil rights just—well, that was just something that was always there, wasn't it? And then I remember he got mad at—When we were in Texas in November, he was mad to me about Lyndon because he said, "Lyndon's trying so hard to show everyone that he's a real liberal." That he'd done something down there and made some speech which had just caused infinitely more trouble, and then got all the South mad or something and then Lyndon was trying to make the—I don't know who—like him. The northern liberals, I guess. And he said, "If he'd just, you know, not tried so hard to do what was best for Lyndon Johnson, I mean, this whole problem would have been made so much easier." But I forget exactly which speech that was. You could find that out.⁵²

The—one of the other things in the autumn of 1962, of course, there was a political campaign and there was also—the biggest thing was the Cuban Missile Crisis. How early were you—did you—were you told about the missiles?

I can't remember if people knew about missiles when Jack went away on that speaking trip. Did they?

They did, yeah.

Everybody knew?

No.

Just a few special people.

Yeah.

Was it ever in the papers then?

It had not—it was not in the papers. He went over the—the news arrived on a Tuesday and then the small—very small group knew. And he went away, remember, on the Thursday or Friday—on the Friday—and then came back on the Saturday, and then gave his speech on the Monday following.⁵³

Well, I can't remember if I knew before, or if I—I'm sure I would have known if he was worried or something. But I can remember so well, I'd just gotten down to Glen Ora with the children and it was either—was it a Friday afternoon or Saturday afternoon?

Saturday afternoon.

Whenever he made up his mind to come back.

Saturday afternoon.

And you'd just sort of gotten there, and I was lying in the sun and it was so nice to be there, and this call came through from Jack and he said, "I'm coming back to Washington this afternoon. Why don't you come back there?" And there—you know, usually he would be coming down or I thought he'd be away for the weekend, or he would be coming down on a Saturday or I would have said, "Well, why don't you come down here?" or something. But there was just something funny in his voice and he never asked me to do—I mean, he knew that those weekends—and away from the tension of the White House—were so good for me, and he'd encourage you to do it. It was just so unlike him, having known you'd just gotten down there with two rather whiny children, who you'd have to wake up from their naps and get back. But I could tell from his voice something was wrong, so I didn't even ask. I said, sort of, "Why?" And he said, "Well, never mind. Why don't you just come back to Washington?" So you woke them up from their naps and we got back there, I suppose, around six or something. And then I guess he told me. I think that must have been when. But I just knew, whenever he asks, or I thought whenever you're married to someone and they ask something—yeah, that's the whole point of being married—you just must sense trouble in their voice and mustn't ask why. And so we came right back. And then, those days were—well, I forget how many there were—were they eleven, ten something? But from then on, it seemed there was no waking or sleeping, and I just don't know which day was which. But I know that Jack—oh, he'd said something—I know he told me right away and some people had said for their wives to go away and Mrs. Phyllis Dillon told me later that Douglas had taken her for a walk and told her what was happening, and suggested she go to Hobe Sound or somewhere. I don't know if she did or not. And I remember saying—well, I knew if anything happened, we'd all be evacuated to Camp David or something. And I don't know if he said anything about that to me. I don't think he—but I said, "Please don't send me away to Camp David"—you know, me and the children. "Please don't send me anywhere. If anything happens, we're all going to stay right here with you." And, you know—and I said, "Even if there's not room in the bomb shelter in the White House"—which I'd seen. I said, "Please, then I just want to be on the lawn when it happens—you know—but I just want to be with you, and I want to die with you, and the children do too—than live without you." So he said he—he wouldn't send me away. And he didn't really want to send me away, either.⁵⁴

What was his mood when he told you?

Well, it wasn't—you know, it wasn't exactly sort of "sit down, I have something to tell you." It was so much going on and then the thing—and then as the time went on, it turned out—well, you know—oh, the awful fluke of a couple of days. Like one day, they took pictures and there was nothing there. Then the next day was foggy. And then McCone, when—McCone had just gotten married again and had gone off on a honeymoon. Well, now that was one of the real problems. Then he'd stopped—all—there was something rather tricky there that, him being out of town on his honeymoon, didn't order another flight or didn't something, so you would have known a couple of days sooner.⁵⁵ There's something there where McCone, who was—I don't know whether to blame McCone—I mean, he could have postponed his honeymoon a bit, or whether it was just a hapless accident, but that was responsible for a delay. And then when those pictures came through and they knew then. Well then, as I say, there was no day or night because I can remember one night, Jack was lying on his bed in his room, and it was really late, and I came in in my nightgown. I thought he was talking on the phone. I'd been in and out of there all evening. And suddenly, I saw him waving me away—Get out, get out!—I'd already run over to his bed, and it was because Bundy was in the room. And poor Puritan Bundy, to see a woman running in in her nightgown! He threw both hands over his eyes. And he was talking on another phone to someone. Well, then I got out of the room and waited for Jack in my room, and whether he came to bed at two, three, four, I don't know. And then another night, I remember Bundy at the foot of both of our beds, you know, waking Jack up for something. And Jack would go into his own room and then talk on the phone maybe until, say, from five to six to seven. And then he might come back and sleep for two hours and go to his office, or—as I say, there was no day or night. And, well, that's the time I've been the closest to him, and I never left the house or saw the children, and when he came home, if it was for sleep or for a nap, I would sleep with him. And I'd walk by his office all the time, and sometimes he would take me out—it was funny—for a walk around the lawn, a couple of times. You know, he didn't very often do that. We just sort of walked quietly, then go back in. It was just this vigil. And then I remember another morning—it must have been a weekend morning—when all—there was a meeting in the Oval Room and everybody had come in one car so that the press wouldn't get suspicious. And Bobby came in in a convertible and riding clothes. And so, you know, and I was there—so—and then I went in the Treaty Room, where I—well, just to fiddle through some mail or something, but I could hear them talking through the door. And I went up and listened and eavesdropped. And I guess that was at a rather vital time, because I could hear McNamara saying something, "I think we should do this, that, this, that." No—McNamara summing up something and then Gilpatric giving some summary and then a lot of ques—and then I thought, well, I mustn't listen, and I went away.

Did the President comment at all on the question of whether there should be a raid to knock the bases out or blockade or what? I mean, you mentioned Mac Bundy's—

Well, that I all knew later and that was never told to me until much, much later. And the thing was—no, at the time, you know, at the time he—well, it was just so—he really wasn't sort of asking me. But then I remember he did tell me about this crazy telegram that came through from Khrushchev one night. Very warlike. I guess he'd sent the nice one first where he looked like he would—Khrushchev had—where he might dismantle, and then this crazy one came through in the middle of the night. Well, I remember Jack being really upset about that and telling me and then deciding that they would just answer the first, and being in on that.⁵⁶ I also remember him telling me about Gromyko, which was very early in it.

Oh, yes.

How he'd seen Gromyko and he talked to him and everything they'd said and that he really wanted to put Gromyko on the line of just lying to him and never giving anything away. And I said, "How could you keep a straight face?" or "How could you not say, You rat!' sitting there?" And he said, "What, and tip our whole hand?" So he described that to me. And then I remember another thing which—the man that Roger Hilsman wrote me a letter about just this winter—but how one of the worst days of it all, the last day, suddenly some U-2 plane got loose over Alaska or something?⁵⁷

Violated Soviet airspace.

Yeah, but some awful thing. Oh, my God, you know, then the Russians might have thought we were sending it in, and that could have just been awful. I remember him telling me about that. And then I remember when the blockade—oh, and then I remember hearing how Anderson at the Pentagon was mad at McNamara, wouldn't let—I don't know if that was afterwards or before—but all that thing.⁵⁸ And then I remember just waiting with that blockade. The only thing I can think of what it was like, it was like an election night waiting, but much worse. But one ship was coming and some big fat freighter had turned back, but it didn't have anything but oil on it anyway—and all these ships cruising forward. And I remember being—hearing that the Joseph P. Kennedy⁵⁹was there and saying to Jack, "Did you send it?" or something. And he said, "No, isn't that strange?"—you know, and just remembering, and then finally, some ship turned back or was boarded or something, and then that was when you heaved the first relief, wasn't it? And I can't remember—the day finally when it was over and saying to me—and Bundy saying to me either then or later, that if it had just gone on maybe two more days, everybody really would have cracked, because all those men had been awake night and day. Taz Shepard⁶⁰in the Situation Room or something. I remember I had something to ask him once and they said, "You can't." He's been—day and night, you know, everyone. And you just thought—and then I wrote a letter to McNamara afterwards, which I showed to Jack. But I remember everyone had worked to the peak of human endurance.

Did the President show fatigue?

Well, as the days went on, yes. But he always—you didn't worry about him and fatigue because you'd seen him driving himself so much all his life—I mean, through some awful campaign and the day that you're bone tired, getting up at five to be at a factory gate and still—So you knew he always would have some hidden reserve to draw on. But, oh, boy, toward the end—you always think—I always think that if you're told how much longer you have to go on, you can always make it. But the awful thing with then was you didn't know. And finally, when it was over, I mean, I don't know how many days or weeks later it was, but he thought of giving that calendar to everyone. And he worked it out so carefully himself.⁶¹

AFTER THE CUBAN MISSILE CRISIS, PRESIDENT KENNEDY GAVE CALENDARS TO MEMBERS OF HIS INNER CIRCLE. HE PRESENTED HIS WIFE WITH THIS CALENDAR, SEEN HERE ON HER DESK IN THE WHITE HOUSE FAMILY QUARTERS
Cecil Stoughton, White House/John F. Kennedy Library and Museum, Boston

What about—

And then it was a surprise. I didn't—I was so surprised when I got one because he told me he wanted to do it so he said, you know, "Ask Tish or Tiffany," or something. So I told her and then when they came, I was so surprised that I had one and I burst out crying.

Well, what about Stevenson and the UN side of it?

I don't remember any of that at the time. I just remember when the article by Charlie Bartlett or something came out later. And—I don't know how much later that was.

Was it in—about six weeks later was it? In early December—Charlie Bartlett and Stewart Alsop.

So then I remember the discussion then. I don't think Jack ever said anything at the time or—Oh, didn't Lyndon just come to one of those meetings? And then to none of the others? I think he came either to the one at the end or the one at the beginning. If he came at the one at the beginning, he didn't want to get involved with everything that was going on, or what I think is more like it, he came at the one at the end and didn't want to give any opinion. As usual, he just didn't want to get put on position anywhere.

Yeah.

And he could have come to all those meetings too, and he didn't come to one. I don't know what he was doing. Then there was something with Chester Bowles too, or was that earlier?

No, that was the first—that was the earlier Cuba.

That's right.

Chester was in India.⁶²

And Bobby said—I remember the first one, Bobby said to him—

No, Chester wasn't in India but he wasn't involved in this. No, this is the first Cuba that he was involved in.

That's right. And where he was going to say that he didn't disagree—that he didn't agree, and Bobby said, "Everyone who leaves this room agrees," or something.⁶³ But I don't know.

Did the President have any particular reactions to Charlie's piece?⁶⁴

Oh, yes. That was awful, wasn't it? It was awful with Adlai and this and that, and I think—it's all so involved now, but I think, wasn't Charlie's piece right?

Not really, no. I mean, everybody had taken a whole series of positions on this and various people at various times had taken various positions and various things had been suggested that, as you mention the case of Mac, who was both—you know, one time he was a hawk and another time he was a dove. And the thing was, there—two viewpoints existed, but I think, at one time or another, nearly everyone around that table had—took one or another of the viewpoints. It much oversimplified the—

Well, anyway, I mean, Jack was just upset over the flak of the article. And then I remember—was it later that winter or in February when I went to New York and went to the UN with Adlai? And Clayton⁶⁵ had told me that it would be so nice if we would ask Adlai to some of our private parties, that that could really make things up. Well, anyway, that really made an awful difference to Adlai when I went to lunch at the UN and I gave him a little watercolor that I'd done. I'd done it—Jack and I were just sitting there one night—of a Sphinx I have, and I just had it in my briefcase. And he framed it and everything, and then he did come down to a party. I mean, you had to do things to sort of soothe his feelings because he—but that did smooth over very nicely, finally. But you know what I was just thinking about the Cuban crisis? The difference between Jack and Lyndon Johnson, and where it's really going to make a difference in this country, is now there's a terrible crisis going on in Laos but nobody really knows it, except in the papers. And where's Lyndon?⁶⁶ And so these people go out to Hawaii and before they go, Lyndon hasn't met with them for three days. And where is he now? He's running all around Texas, getting high school and college degrees. And the poor man's terrified, in a way. Dave Powers⁶⁷says he can't bear to go to Camp David or anyplace he's alone, that now he has beach chairs around the pool, and on weekends, he likes to sit in the pool and they have drinks there—and all his cronies. But he can't bear ever to be alone and face something awful, or discuss with these people. Maybe it's—maybe he wants to disassociate himself so if it goes wrong he can say, "I wasn't there," or "It's McNamara's war." Partly, I think, he's panic-struck and doesn't know what to do. And that man came in—there wasn't a problem for seven months, which Jack had made possible. And I guess it's very good for the country that he could go around and make this air of good feeling and lull so many people into this sense of security, which they wanted after all the tragedy of November. But you know, a president has to be—I mean, that's where the terrible things are going to happen, because every little group is off, you know, having their own different meetings on Laos and they're not think—on Vietnam—and they're not thinking of—I mean, Jack always said the political thing there was more important than the military and nobody's thinking of that.⁶⁸ And they don't call the people who were in it before in. And so that's the way chaos starts. If you read the story of the Bay of Pigs in the papers now, I mean, the CIA just operating so in the dark, saying, "Even if you get an order from the President, go ahead with it."⁶⁹ Well, that's the kind of thing that's going to happen again. And, you know, I've seen it from the people I talk to in Washington now, sort of piecing things here and there together—and how Joe Kraft⁷⁰ told me Lyndon came to some—somebody's house in Georgetown the other night, got very drunk, stayed until three or four, and said, "I just don't know if I'm capable to be president, if my equipment is adequate." It was just in front of—this is off the track, talking about Lyndon, and people will think I'm bitter, but I'm not so bitter now. But I just wanted it to be put in context the kind of president Jack was and the kind Lyndon is. Stupid old Harold Stassen⁷¹ said last weekend—and then if only someone else had said it, because it's rather a true thought—that Johnson would be like Harding, and it would be another era of good feeling, and business liked Harding and the senators liked Harding, and he didn't keep too much sort of tabs on the people who worked under him, so they could sort of be a bit corrupt here and there, which again—and then look what happened. You know. And that's what I just—you know that's going to happen. Lyndon can ride on some of the great things Jack did, and a lot of them will go forward because they can't be stopped—civil rights, the tax bill, the gold drain stuff.⁷² And maybe you'll do something more about the Alliance and everything, but when something really crisis happens, that's when they're going to miss Jack. And I just want them to know it's because they don't have that kind of president and not because it was inevitable.⁷³

What sort of a vice president was Lyndon?

It was so funny because Jack, thinking of being vice president and how awful it would be, gave Lyndon so many things to do. But he never did them. I mean, he could have made his council on human rights⁷⁴ or whatever it was into some—you know, gone ahead with it—equal opportunity, whatever it was. He could have done more with the space thing. He just never wanted to make any decision or do anything that would put him in any position. So, what he really liked to do was go on these trips.⁷⁵ And he never liked—Jack would say you could never get an opinion out of Lyndon at any cabinet or national security meeting. He'd just say, you know, that he agreed with them—with everyone—or just keep really quiet.⁷⁶ So what he'd do, he'd send him into Pakistan or something. Well, then he'd be really interested in the camel driver when he came back.⁷⁷ Or then he'd ask to go to Finland or something, and that would be fine. And he'd bring back a lot of little glass birds with "Lyndon" written all over that he'd give out. And he asked to go to Luxembourg. I mean, I think it's so pathetic when all you can find to do with a President who's dying to give you a lot to do, is take a state trip to Luxembourg and Belgium. And I know in Greece, they told us after his visit there that you just wouldn't believe the confusion and the frenzy and what was demanded of people and how there had to be masseurs, and the pandemonium, and it was so much more than any presidential visit those people had ever seen. That's what he liked. Oh, and Lyndon had tried so hard in the beginning. Godfrey McHugh had tried in the beginning to make Jack order four new Air Force Ones—707s—because we needed the one that could be the fastest. Moscow's was faster. And Jack wasn't going to spend that much money for four new planes, and Lyndon kept pushing him to do that. You know, Lyndon wanted a big—and then when Jack did get Air Force One, I think—I don't know if Lyndon had an Air Force One just like it or one of the older planes, but he always kept pushing for a bigger plane. And—or for more—all the kind of things like that he wanted, the panoply that goes with power, but none of the responsibility. And then every time he'd come home from one of these little trips, Jack would say to find out, very nicely, "Would he like to come and report to me?" Once we were in Florida in the middle of his rest and vacation, and if Lyndon would've come to report, it would have to be in the middle of the night, which wasn't great for Jack, and he thought it would be awful for Lyndon. But he'd say, "Find out if he'd like to or not," and Lyndon would always like to. So he'd always be flown down in a special jet and the press would all be alerted. And he'd come over, and of course, there'd be absolutely nothing to talk about, but it would look as if, you know— So that's the kind of vice president he was. But Jack always said he was never disloyal or spoke anywhere. Well, I mean, that's only smart, but it's true.

VICE PRESIDENT LYNDON JOHNSON AND PRESIDENT KENNEDY AT THE WHITE HOUSE
Abbie Rowe, National Park Service/John F. Kennedy Library and Museum, Boston

What about on political advice or dealing with Congress or so on? Did he seem to figure there?

No, Jack used to say— Then once he wasn't majority leader anymore, he'd either think—either Jack thought this or Lyndon thought this—but he wouldn't do anything with Congress. I don't think they'd have paid much attention to him. I mean, then they didn't like the vice—the Executive stepping in.⁷⁸ And Jack used to say more times, just amused—I told you, to Ben Bradlee—"My God, Mansfield gets more accomplished"—and you know, it was really Larry O'Brien and Mansfield. But I—and I think I might have said this on an earlier tape, but one of our last dinners at the White House, maybe two or three weeks before Dallas, Ben Bradlee was there, and Jack kept saying to him, "Now why don't you put Mansfield on the cover of Newsweek? Why doesn't someone write something nice about him?" Did I say that?

No.

And he said, "He's done more," and he said—The thing is, Lyndon snowed everyone so much. He wasn't cutting up Lyndon, because he never cut Lyndon up. But he was saying, he snowed everyone so with his personality. But he said, "After all, look, it was under Eisenhower, and after all, what was done?" And he named very negligible things. And he said, "The situation's so much worse now, more difficult"—and all these things and he named, I remember, sixty-eight percent of our program the first year, seventy-one or seventy-three, the second, and he said, "We're going to get this and this and that by." And then Ben was needling him, saying, "But you're not going to get the tax bill by and the civil rights bill by this year, as you've said. Anyway, the tax bill, as you said." And he said, "God, what does it matter, Ben? We're going to get the tax bill. It's going to come by in February. O.K., it's not this year but it's two months later." And the civil rights he predicted exactly—everything that would happen as the date. And Mansfield, he just thought, was extraordinary and that nobody recognized it because the man played quietly. So Lyndon, as vice president, didn't just do anything. But it was all right. It was fine.

The story has been printed to the effect that there was some consideration of dropping Johnson in '64.

Not in '64. But Bobby told me this later, and I know Jack said it to me sometimes. He said, "Oh, God, can you ever imagine what would happen to the country if Lyndon was president?" So many times he'd say it—or if there was ever a problem. I mean, stories would come out about '64, but I don't see how you could drop him in '64.

Very hard.

But in '68, I know, he was thinking in some little way, what could you do? Well, first place, I thought Lyndon would be too old then to run for president. I mean, he didn't like that idea that Lyndon would go on and be president because he was worried for the country. And Bobby told me that he'd had some discussions with him. I forget exactly how they were planning or who they had in mind. It wasn't Bobby, but somebody. Do something to name someone else in '68.⁷⁹

Do you remember anything in particular about the congressional campaign in '62? Of course, it was so dominated by the—overshadowed by the Cuban crisis. You didn't go out, I think.

No, I mean, he didn't ask me to go out. I don't know.

At the beginning, he planned a rather short campaign and then made a longer one. On the question of—would he ever talk about the legislative breakfasts?⁸⁰

Oh, yes, because sometimes they used to be upstairs and, you know, the children would wander in. And sometimes, I'd wander out of my room in my dressing gown and all those men would come out in clouds of smoke. And—

The breakfast was on the second floor?

Sometimes they'd be, and then later on they were in the Family Dining Room. The first one, all the antique chairs that Harry du Pont had, broke one by one. But he would talk about them and what was said if it was a good one.

Whom did he like particularly? Hubert? What did he say about—

Well, he loved Mansfield and Dirksen was always very nice with him. I don't know, I guess he was really, was very sad when Sam Rayburn died. And McCormack he'd always had trouble with. But, I guess McCormack was always alright at them. I don't know. It really wouldn't be fair for me to say. I don't know.⁸¹

One of the great mysteries around the White House was the—

I know one thing about the legislative breakfasts that Larry O'Brien told me. This is something interesting about Ted Sorensen. Larry couldn't stand Ted Sorensen, so one night he was telling me—well, they were obviously—the Irishmen would be jealous of the Sorensens—but he said so many times Larry would have prepared an agenda for the breakfasts and just before they were about to start Ted would ask to see it and take it. And he'd just change one or two sentences and then initial it "TCS" and pass it all around that way. And you'll see that heavy hand of Ted Sorensen in more places. I mean, he—you know, he wanted his imprint on so many things.

The self-assertion.

Yeah. I told you about the Profiles in Courage thing, and well, I mean, he was doing it to Larry O'Brien, everyone. That's just so sneaky.

He was a little better in the White House, though, wasn't he?

Oh, yes. But I mean, I just—

Well, that's such a petty thing. To—

Someone said he loved himself and finally he loved one other person, which was Jack.⁸² And he also had such a crush on Jack. I can remember when he first started to try to speak like him or dare to call him Jack, and he'd sort of blush. And I think he wanted to be easy all the ways Jack was easy. The sort of civilized side of Jack, or be easy at dinners or if girls like you, and men. Because he knew he wasn't quite that way in the beginning, it almost went into a sort of a resentment. I mean, it was very mixed-up in his own inferior—he had a big inferiority complex, so you can see the thing sort of all working back and forth, but—and I never saw him very much in the White House.

He was very rarely invited—

Never.

Never.

I guess he came to a state dinner or so, but never a private one. Or maybe, maybe he came to one or two of the dances, I think. But that wouldn't have been—I mean, as he and Ted had the problems all day, that would be the last person you would invite at night.

One thing that mystified people over in the West Wing was the way George Smathers survived. The President would get very mad about Smathers, about Medicare, foreign aid, and say, "This will be the final test." Then Smathers would vote against it and then there he'd be again.

And I used to get so mad at that—and hurt. Then he'd say—well, he just had such charity. His friendship with Smathers was before the Senate, really, and before he was—I mean, in the Senate and before he was married. And I guess they'd see each other a bit, off and on in the summer or in—you know, Stockdale was a friend of Smathers.⁸³ They weren't seeing each other so much lately. And it was really a friend of one side of Jack—a rather, I always thought, sort of a crude side. I mean, not that Jack had the crude side, but you could laugh or hear a story—you know, the kind of stories sort of Smathers tells—I don't know, but he didn't want to stick it to someone who'd once been a friend. And he knew when Smathers was hurting him, and he knew Smathers—

Kenny⁸⁴ hated Smathers.

Yeah, and I didn't like Smathers. But he wouldn't go back against someone who'd been his friend. And he was hurt by him and he wouldn't—he didn't see him as much and everything personally but he just wouldn't ever—finally say, "O.K.—you're out—now we're enemies," because he was just too kind. So he just let things go on.

Mansfield, he thought, was doing an excellent job in the Senate. And McCormack, all right. Boggs, did he ever mention?⁸⁵

Well, I know he liked Hale Boggs very much, yes. Hale Boggs had been our friend before the White House. We used to see them. You asked me before who we saw. And Mansfield we saw. He always loved Hale Boggs.

He looked forward to the legislative breakfasts, did he?

Yeah.

They were rather—they were fun. On—unreel this. Shall I send you this list—typed—with anything else that occurs to me?

Oh, just give me the little thing that—you don't have to type it. Just give me the scribbling.

Then I'll make a copy of it myself.

Do you want a piece of paper? Oh, here, I've got a whole pad.

Oh, really? Good. Thanks. [chatting after the formal interview]What was this you said about Johnson doing a kind of, on tape, a confession on how inadequate he was?

Oh, no, no. Joe Kraft said that someone who had been at that house got so frightened and was so, you know, rocked by seeing Johnson in his cups at four in the morning, saying he doubted if he had the equipment to be a president. But this person went home and put it on tape.

Oh, I see.

I don't know who that person was. [ribbing Schlesinger] Johnson putting it on tape! [both laugh]

I wondered exactly the—seems improbable. [long pause follows on tape, then] Macmillan looked very well.⁸⁶

He did, didn't he? And the—he didn't have that funny, sort of droopy look he used to have.

No, exactly. He looked very—when I saw him—he looked very sort of spruce and chipper. And he looked like he'd just come in from the country and he looked—

Well, I hope things are looking up for him because he really—

Well, he intervened in a by-election at Devizes and gave a speech and the Tories held that—astonishing—and he felt, I think, very cheerful about that, as if, politically—

You know, in the Cuban crisis—I didn't say it in the tape, but I was so surprised that all these people that did go away whose husbands were working in it.

Really? Was there a—it seems to me that your reaction is sort of the reaction you'd have to have.

Yeah, and well, then, maybe a lot of them were friends and things later, you know, just not in government, or—but you know, the one thought there was, if anything was going to happen they wanted to get out with their wife and—I mean the mother and the children? My God, I don't think that shows you love your husband very much!