The Presidency: Quest for Confidence

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THE PRESIDENCY

Laughter and music from the cruise ship George Washington spilled across the Potomac. Over the tiered decks, 600 wounded U.S. servicemen glugged beer, munched on Texas barbecue, flirted with flotillas of pretty hostesses. Hopping about on a crutch, a one-legged soldier danced a manic Monkey with his partner, while another veteran in a striped bathrobe foxtrotted with a nurse. Between performances by the Bitter End Singers and a chorus from the University of Alabama, a bevy of scantily clad beauty queens mingled with the men. Then, 40 minutes before their brief revels ended, a black launch pulled alongside, and Lyndon Johnson bounded aboard.

The four-hour cruise, organized by Mrs. Robert McNamara, was intended to boost the morale of American fighting men wounded in Viet Nam. As he edged through the crowd, Johnson asked over and over: "Do y'all think I'm doing the right thing in Viet Nam?" He repeatedly extended "my personal thanks for all you have given to your country." Out of the President's earshot, a marine with a missing arm exclaimed: "You rotten fink!" But most of the servicemen seemed to share the sentiment of the handful who whispered huskily, "God bless you, sir." The President himself paled at the confrontation with scores of maimed young men. The cruise ship, so lighthearted an hour earlier, was somber and almost silent when it reached the dock.

Limned for Lyndon. Impelled by his own inner instincts, the President last week sought to generate cheer and confidence on a national level. Fretting over press reports that he was mistrusted by the man in the street, Johnson tried to make amends by setting up his first scheduled, nationally televised White House press conference in eleven months. Though the East Room was physically jammed for the big event, the press conference was almost void of import. Asked mostly insipid questions, nearly all of them limned for Lyndon in advance by Press Secretary Bill Moyers, the President disclosed no news and showed little inclination to throw new light on the urgent issues. "I would not want to go further."

Only when cast in the less studied role of Father of the Bride was Johnson refreshingly natural. That moment came when a newsman for Women's Wear Daily—which had been drummed out of Luci's August wedding for tracking down and publishing a sketch of a bridesmaid's dress in advance of the release date—asked indignantly how the President could square the ban with his avowed belief in freedom of information. Amid chuckles from the press, Johnson hunkered down and pleaded: "If I could have your permission to just step aside on any of the detailed wedding arrangements, I would like very much to do so. Thank you very much."

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