The Presidency: The Affection Gap

Such is Lyndon Johnson's thirst for acclaim that he has had electronic devices installed in the presidential limousines so that he can drink in the applause of the populace as he drives by. He may soon need an amplifier. The Louis Harris poll reported last week that only 50% of the American public now endorses the President v. 83% in February 1964; the Gallup poll shows an 8% decline, from 56% to 48%, in two months.

To some extent, of course, L.BJ. has fallen victim to the mid-term doldrums that descend on most Presidents. He has also, doubtless, been hurt by a variety of troubles—the Viet Nam war, rising prices, big-city Negro riots—that are only partially of his making, if at all. He suffers nonetheless from a unique and painful handicap that Washington observers have come to call "the personality problem."

"Not Very Likeable." Bluntly put, many or possibly even most Americans do not greatly like or wholly believe their President. Johnson senses their antipathy and broods about it. A story making the rounds in Washington has Lyndon asking an elder statesman: "Why don't people like me?" The reply: "You are not a very likeable man, Mr. President."

Perhaps not. One reason for the affection gap is that in a predominantly urban nation, Johnson palpably does not enjoy cities and has little empathy with the majority of Americans living in them. Also, as shown by the graceless handling of Historian Eric Goldman's resignation as a special presidential consultant this month, Johnson has little or no rapport with the intellectual community. The President's strained relations with Big Labor's top brass were all too evident at his pilgrimage to Detroit on Labor Day —though there was no lack of rank-and-file palms admiringly outstretched for Johnson's benison along the motorcade route into town.

Last week, after a chat with Jewish War Veterans Commander Malcolm Tarlov, Johnson even found himself in a brief brouhaha with the nation's Jews, over 80% of whom supported him in 1964. During the talk, the President expressed regret at what he felt was a lack of support for his Viet Nam policy among Jewish leaders. As reported in the press, it sounded as if he were criticizing the whole Jewish community and, worse still, threatening to link U.S. aid to Israel with Jewish support on Viet Nam on a quid pro quo basis. The tempest subsided only after United Nations Ambassador Arthur Goldberg had met with 40 Jewish leaders and assured them that the President was not trying to stifle dissent or equate U.S.Israeli relations with Jewish attitudes toward the war.

"I Lose Money." The President has tried everything short of plastic surgery to remodel his image. To polish his TV personality, Johnson has tried contact lenses, light face makeup, and a variety of electronic prompting gadgets, only belatedly realizing that he winds up looking shifty-eyed and irritable. In desperation, L.BJ. of late has banned all TV cameras from his press conferences. "Every time I appear on television," he complained at a private meeting with network officials and broadcasters this month, "I lose money."