Foreign Relations: Summit in Smalltown

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The hard talk was something else. As they toured the horizon, it became clear that neither side was going to open the way to a major breakthrough. Johnson found Kosygin temperate, intelligent, experienced, but firm. The U.S. must let the Vietnamese settle their problems, Kosygin insisted, but the U.S. and the U.S.S.R. should force a Middle East settlement—on largely Arab terms. They agreed on Israel's right to existence, but the two had already said so before; Kosygin had even mentioned it when citing the "new realities of the nuclear age" at the United Nations General Assembly earlier in the week. They agreed on the importance of a treaty to bar the spread of nuclear weapons, but that, too, had already been agreed upon in principle.

Tough Grandfather. Before they broke for a luncheon of shrimp cocktail, roast beef and rice pilaf, they joshed about whether to eat at all. Kosygin said he was a tough grandfather. Having sipped coffee and iced tea during the morning meeting, he could go the rest of the day without food. Johnson prevailed, and lunch was served on a cloth-covered raw-wood table hastily hammered together by the White House kitchen staff, which had come up from Washington along with the food. During the meal, which was attended by Foreign Minister Andrei Gromyko, Secretary of State Dean Rusk and other top aides, Defense Secretary Robert McNamara spoke about the advantages of a mutual freeze on production of anti-ballistic missile systems. Gromyko replied with the standard answer: the Soviets need an ABM network for protection against U.S. missiles.

In leading up to a toast with California Cabernet Sauvignon, Johnson made the first intimation that the meeting should be continued. "We would like to have the opportunity," he said, "to sit down further and discuss aspects of the anti-ballistic missile system, nonproliferation, perhaps some questions arising out of the Middle East situation, and at least the situation in Southeast Asia, as well as questions of mutual interest in Europe and the Western Hemisphere." Later, Kosygin made a firm suggestion for the second session.

Flood Threat. Another theme of mutual interest was grandfatherhood, a status Kosygin had enjoyed for 18 years and Johnson for two days. Kosygin welcomed the President to the club, passed along a gold baby cup for Patrick Lyndon Nugent.* Grandchildren—and the world they will live in—became a frequent touchstone. At one point, Johnson told the Russian: "You don't want my grandson fighting you, and I don't want you shooting at him."

The conferees emerged from the first day's meeting beaming at each other and the world. If looks could melt the cold war ice, Gloucester County would have been flooded. Johnson, towering over his stocky, grizzled guest, wore his most affable smile; Kosygin, normally grim in public, grinned shyly. "We have exchanged views on a number of international questions," Johnson said. "We also exchanged views on the questions of direct bilateral relations between the Soviet Union and the United States of America." It was, in the words of countless diplomatic bulletins, "a very good and very useful meeting."