Tapioca & Sympathy

Arrayed in gold pajamas and a brown silk robe, the nation's most closely watched convalescent leaned back in a green reclining chair and made a rare admission. "Very frankly," said Lyndon Johnson, "this is a good time to get a little rest. I have been rather tired for some time."

The President showed it. Almost no official visitors were admitted to his third-floor suite at the Naval Medical Center in Bethesda, Md., last week. Johnson limited his reading to essential reports such as the CIA's daily intelligence summary, rarely used the multi-button telephone console at his bedside. "I think he is weaker than anyone thought," observed White House Press Secretary Bill Moyers. "I think the pace of the last 20 months has accumulated weariness that was not evident until the operation."

"Keep On Doing." This was a sharp change of tone from the first three days after the operation that removed his gall bladder and a kidney stone Oct. 8. For that period of time, the President had seemed to be simmering with energy—as patients often do immediately following surgery. The anesthetic had barely worn off when he was signing bills, dictating telegrams, calling relatives with medical bulletins, approving appointments, and largely behaving as if he were still in the oval office.

Summoning in a four-man press pool, Johnson chatted about the amazing productivity of the 89th Congress. The session, he said, reminded him of "an old song that we used to sing in the hills of Texas, 'Keep on doing what you're doing to me, because I like what you're doing to me!'" He admitted that he had been disappointed a few times, but allowed: "You never get everything you want." On the other hand, he could not resist adding, "If Hubert and I were up there representing the House and the Senate, we would get them together in five minutes."

The following day, Johnson spent 45 minutes reviewing domestic and foreign problems with Vice President Hubert Humphrey, and a hour with Secretary of State Dean Rusk, who brought him a get-well message from the Soviet leaders and a rundown on the crises in Indonesia and Rhodesia (see THE WORLD). Then the postoperative euphoria started wearing off. Taken off sedation, the President slept fitfully, some nights for as little as two hours! He was restless during the day. "While I was there," said Moyers, "he spent part of his time in his chair, and he got back on the bed to rest, and he got out of the bed again after he regained some of his strength."

Hello from Him. At last Johnson's doctors, as Moyers put it, insisted "that he take every opportunity to rest; that he maintain a very minimum schedule the next few weeks." As a result, his hard-working staff was able to relax for the first time in months. Moyers, who normally is on call 24 hours a day, even managed to catch a few innings of the last World Series game on TV.