The Presidency: Another One of Those Weeks

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Turning talk into deed, the President sent to Congress a proposal—marked urgent—to spend $228 million to help the troubled Appalachia area, which covers sections of ten states, includes 165,000 sq. mi. and 15 million people (see map). The biggest portion of the money would go for highway construction, the rest for flood control and water projects, plus development of new coal-mining techniques, better timber production, and conversion of poor farm land to more profitable pasture land. Pennsylvania's Republican Governor William Scranton had called earlier at the White House with some new recommendations about reclaiming mining areas, gave what Johnson called "a persuasive and meritorious case," and sold the President on adding a last-minute $10 million to the program.

Forever & Ever. Next day Johnson greeted religious leaders who had come to Washington to lobby and pray for the civil rights bill. Said the President to the preachers: "It is your job as prophets in our time to direct the immense power of religion in shaping the conduct and thoughts of men toward their brothers in a manner consistent with compassion and love. So help us in this hour." Some of the clergymen responded with reverent amens.

A group of U.S. historians, in town for the 175th anniversary of George Washington's inauguration, listened and laughed as Johnson took the opportunity to slice up the reporters on hand. "Since the press is temporarily with us," said the President, "I might explain in the words of Oscar Wilde: 'In Amer ica the President reigns for four years and journalism governs forever and ever.' I can assure you that at times, especially after I read the newspapers, I have strong urges to be a writer. In fact, if I may turn the tables, I sometimes think some of my friends in the press need some new writers."

Despite all the action, the White House seemed relatively calm until week's end. Giving just ten minutes' notice, the President charged off to Winchester, Va., 79 miles away, to see Daughter Luci, 16, crowned Shenandoah Apple Blossom Queen XXXVII. Followed by three cars full of Secret Service men and a Greyhound bus carrying 30 reporters, the President's car moved through the countryside at a relatively sedate 55 m.p.h., arrived in time for the coronation.

Luci was pleased when her daddy turned up, since she had held out no great hopes that he would come. Earlier, reporters had asked if her father would attend and Luci neatly summed up the President's whirlwind way of life when she replied: "I don't know. I can't ever tell what he is going to do. He can't either."