In Search of History: Presidencies, Personalities and Policies

The Dark Side of Camelot
by Seymour Hersh. Little Brown and Company, 1997

Taking Charge; The Johnson White House Tapes, 1963-1964
by Michael R. Beschloss. Simon and Schuster, 1997

Does a president make history, or does history make a president? Given the recent flurry of scholarly and popular attention to chief executives and their relatives, one could conclude that the answer is neither. The ultimate definitions of both leaders and their eras are the result of construction, deconstruction, and endless reconstruction by journalists, film directors,playwrights and, if we are fortunate, occasional perceptive historians. Key U.S. political actors of the 1960s are particularly susceptible to being currently revised, thanks in large part to the Freedom of Information Act, discovery and release of dusty audio tapes, newly talkative "eye witnesses" and ex-lovers who desire to secure their place on the

record and an enthusiastic audience of aging baby boomers. Journalist Seymour Hersh and historian Michael Beschloss have relied heavily on their respective crafts to revisit the life and times of presidents Kennedy and Johnson, men who were responsible for some of the most crucial policies of the 20th century, whose effects we will continue to benefit and suffer from well into the next millennium.

Hersh, always the investigative journalist, chose the deductive (destructive?) route to truth, funneling every possible shred of evidence in an attempt to support the contention that a philandering, Mafia-cavorting, often medicinally drug-impaired John F. Kennedy jeopardized American foreign policy by his insatiable desire for new sexual conquests (although the securing of prostitutes required only minimal seductive abilities), nude co-ed romps in the White House swimming pool, and midnight liaisons with an East German temptress. In short, JFK fiddled while Pax Americana burned. (Of course we are now painfully aware that presidents can compartmentalize their lives, separating private sin and public policy.) When the self-focused president did attend to the affairs of state, his attention centered on a dangerous obsession with Fidel Castro and a coldly calculated willingness to assassinate uncontrollable or inconvenient world leaders such as South Vietnam's Diem and Congo's Lumumba. And all these violations of public and private trust were covered up willingly by a milquetoast press, a heretofore loyal staff and an enabling family, primarily his fanatically protective brother Bobby, the self-designated keeper of Kennedy secrets. Dabbling in amateur psychology, Hersh would have us to believe that misbehavior, machoism, and corruption were an inevitable result of the Kennedy/Fitzgerald family heritage. Granddad Honey Fitz and father Joe connived, cheated, and bought their way to power (should we be surprised that money is a major factor in politics?), so how could we expect any less of our youngest president? It was in his genes.

Not a great deal of new information is contained in Hersh's work. Using an exposé style, it is a titillating read, and could easily be scripted into an entertaining movie, although the plot would

overlap with a number of previous productions. Probably many, if not most, of Hersh's assertions have much basis in reality. Yes, the 1960 West Virginia primary was bought with Dad's money. The CIA was instructed to find James Bond-like ways to kill Fidel. The Kennedy family had a clandestine relationship with mob elements. J. Edgar Hoover was not above blackmail. The most disturbing feature of Hersh's prolific investigation (five years, 1000 interviews) is the questionable assembling of the information and loose construction of unsubstantiated inferences. Some sources are quoted anonymously, some weak sources are used exclusively to bolster a major point, and a few assertions push the credulity meter to its limits. A few charges are simply not supported by any evidence. For example, the contention that Lyndon Johnson politically extorted Kennedy in order to secure the 1960 vice presidential nomination is unsubstantiated by any credible evidence. It is also difficult to believe that mobster Sam Giancana single handedly won Illinois for the Democratic ticket (the mobilization power of Daley's Chicago politburo still affords the most plausible explanation). Should we easily accept Hersh's belief that a devious FBI director and a high- living mobster (with a little help from Frank Sinatra) held the fate of the presidency and U.S. foreign policy in their amoral hands? However, if you come to bury John Kennedy, Hersh offers a devastating eulogy.

Michael Beschloss, historian and television personality, offers us an alternative method for examining a president and his times. Selectively using recently released tapes of Lyndon Baines Johnson's White House conversations and phone calls, Beschloss leads us through LBJ's political travails in the year after Kennedy's death. And what a crucial year it was. We gain a sense of Johnson's famed manipulative skills, insecurities and vulnerabilities as he confronts the Kennedy legacy, arch-rival Bobby Kennedy, byzantine Texas politics, the shaky Warren Commission procedures, as well as the formulation of crucial far-reaching policies such as decisions about Vietnam, the War on Poverty and the first major civil rights legislation since the Civil War era. As a properly trained historian, Beschloss proceeds inductively, laying out edited conversations,

supplemented by footnoted comments and additional source material. There are no grand conspiracy theories in this book, only some well-organized documentation which affords readers the welcome relief of postulating our own conclusions. For some reason Johnson was a compulsive taper. And while we are warned that this president, aware of how this recorded history might judge him, may have been cagily dishonest, the imprecise wording, off-color language and occasional self-incriminating statements make us want to believe that this is the "real" LBJ.

The transcribed Lyndon Johnson often seems like the man liberals in the 1960s knew and usually disliked. He plots strategies for keeping Bobby Kennedy off the 1964 ticket and schemes against his friends to insure Democrats were elected to government in the Lone Star state. His well-honed skills in pressuring people through personal obligation are amply illustrated. While using his "I'm just a simple country boy" affect, he badgers his staff, manipulates reporters, and forcefully directs senators to suppress investigations of the infamous Bobby Baker which might link insurance company kickbacks to the Johnsons and their Texas television empire. And lest we forget, Johnson's conversations also remind us of his key role in supporting a CIA coup in Brazil, secretly bombing Laos, overreacting to the Gulf of Tonkin incident, and undermining the Mississippi Freedom Delegation's plea for racial fairness and representation at the 1964 Democratic convention. And it is tortuous to read how LBJ and J. Edgar Hoover pretend to be mutually supportive. In one of many clearly insincere statements made to almost everyone, Johnson says to Hoover, "You are my brother and personal friend." For Johnson, the line between friends and enemies is hopelessly blurred. All of his political acquaintances seem to be both.

But presidents are human, not unidimensional nor inherently evil. Beschloss' editing offers insights into the kinder, gentler fabric of Johnson's character. To a large extent LBJ took the leadership role of the presidency seriously, and there was more than a hint of compassion mixed in with base political survival. He refused to compromise on the 1964 Civil Rights Act, when compromise would probably have produced an easy and fairly risk free victory. Risking

the alienation of his southern base on the eve of an election, Johnson pulled out most of the stops in ordering a federal government search for the three missing (later found dead) civil rights workers in Mississippi. And it is touching to read the seemingly loving exchanges between Johnson and the ever supportive Lady Bird. An often sleepless Johnson is insecure and pathetic in the tradition of a rapidly falling Greek hero. While Johnson's abrasive, intimidating style no doubt contributed to his isolation, he was uncontrollably saddled with Kennedy holdover advisors whose loyalty to the unsophisticated Texan was clearly suspect. To compensate, Johnson sought consolation and counsel with his old Senate buddies, but the transition from Capitol Hill to the White House moved those relationships to a more competitive level. Being president finally insured that LBJ could never be at peace: "And what I want is great solace, a little love. That's all I want." But we all know the ending to this tragedy, and his personality and position guaranteed the impossibility of either private solace or public love.

While Beschloss provides the documentation and Hersh the judgment, both efforts give us less than complete explanations of presidential behavior in the early sixties. No doubt personality is vital to explaining actions and policies. But other systemic forces were at work here, and American democracy and policy were jeopardized not only by presidents' libidos and crass desires for power. Any president has to confront the irrational conflicting demands of American economic and political values (economic freedom and political equality), has to massage and manage competing intra-political party factions, has to function inside the often paralyzing complex system of separation of powers, as well as to locate and devote huge sums of money to secure nominations and win elections. These factors promote presidential secrecy and the temptation to control the dissemination of information.

Beschloss and Hersh offer some keen insights into the modus operandi of the pre-Watergate press and its manipulation by presidents. While it is refreshing to know there was a time when a president's sex life was not the lead story on the evening news, Kennedy and Johnson, through carefully nursed personal connections, were able to keep crucial information away from a naive

public. Ben Bradlee ( Newsweek and The Washington Post) and Frank Stanton (CBS) were apparently completely co-opted by Presidents Kennedy and Johnson. Would U.S. policies have taken other directions had the mainstream fourth estate abandoned its deference to the commander in chiefs? Could this protective press have better served the republic?

Kennedy ordered the CIA to assassinate world leaders. Johnson developed plans to undermine democracies and escalate the war in Vietnam. But is this a result of their well-known personal flaws, or of carrying on well-established Cold War traditions? What president has not wanted to eliminate Castro? And what Oval Office occupant seriously tried to rein in the ever-imaginative CIA or the self-serving J. Edgar Hoover? Indeed, former President Eisenhower advised Kennedy to take a tough stand on Cuba, and the Cuban invasion plans were developed by the Dulles brothers prior to the 1960 election. And could any ambitious politician before 1989 win election to the presidency who did not advocate a zealous opposition to communism? Hersh recounts the commonly held view that JFK expressed a desire to scale back U.S. commitment to Vietnam after safely securing a second term. But isn't this the same president who refused to negotiate with North Vietnam, and selected Robert McNamara as his Secretary of Defense, soon to be a trusted Johnson advisor who continually recommended military solutions for Southeast Asia? While Hersh tells us that Kennedy had qualms about authorizing the Bay of Pigs invasion, we also find out that the president considered a preemptive bombing of Chinese nuclear facilities.

The Johnson conversations more clearly demonstrate how big- power politics and the well-developed and broadly held American anti-communist sentiments shaped electoral politics and presidential decision making. Constantly under public criticism for his lack of experience and expertise in foreign policy, Johnson felt trapped by the Vietnam conundrum. Continually informed of the lack of democracy, stability and support for the U.S. in what remained of the South Vietnamese government, and as a true believer in the domino theory, along with his advisors and American society in

general, Johnson believed his options were limited. The only logical choice for a president boxed in by these political and ideological boundaries was non-negotiation with communists and pursuit of military solutions. And there were always a plethora of advisors ready to recommend a variety of increasing deadly options. Neither Hersh nor Beschloss afford any optimism that a second JFK term would have looked much differently at Vietnam. At this stage in history the Cold War had a life of its own, consuming even well-meaning elites inside and outside of government.

It does matter whom we elect as president. Victories by Richard Nixon in 1960 or Barry Goldwater in 1964 would probably have not produced presidents who befriended the same mobsters, or enthusiastically initiated a Peace Corps or declared a War on Poverty. But it serves us well to remember that systemic factors such as campaign financing, the American ideology, international politics and vagaries of our electoral system shape presidential behavior as much as quirky presidential neuroses. Personality and character are not the only explanations for policy. We may enjoy reading about a "great man's" idiosyncracies and obsessions, but broader perspectives are essential to understanding the actions of governments and their leaders.      ||

Robert Bence has taught political science at Massachusetts College of Liberal Arts since 1976. In 1992 he was a visiting professor at Simon Fraser University in British Columbia. He has presented numerous papers, many of them on Canada and Canadian studies, and has accompanied his students on several study trips to Canada. Professor Bence's book reviews have appeared in The American Review of Canadian Studies, Africa Today, and New Directions in Teaching.