Stirring testimony. But would it be enough to sway Humphrey?
THE PALACE GUARD WITHOUT A PALACE
In his August 15 column for the Washington Post, Drew Pearson listed the running mates Humphrey was thinking about: Richard Hughes, the governor of New Jersey; Joseph Alioto, the mayor of San Francisco; Edmund Muskie, the former governor of Maine and a current senator; and Shriver, who, Pearson implied, was the most likely choice because of “his appeal to youth.”
In mid-August, Maryland Democratic leader Dick Schifter flew to Paris to talk secretly with Shriver about his chances for the national ticket and about possibilities in Maryland. Schifter and Shriver agreed that if Shriver were to become the vice presidential nominee, he would need the support of two key people: Dick Daley and Ted Kennedy. Shriver asked Josephson and Moyers to see if they could get Louis Martin and Dan Rostenkowski to talk to Daley. Kennedy would be more difficult. After agreeing to make a discreet side trip to Paris during a European vacation in the second week in August, Kennedy never showed up.
Humphrey’s people had been told about the planned Kennedy-Shriver meeting in Paris and were hoping this would clear the way for Shriver’s nomination. Kampelman was telling people that the choice was down to Shriver and Alioto. But when Humphrey and company learned that Kennedy had returned to the States without talking to Shriver, they got antsy. Was Kennedy’s failure to visit Paris an implicit rejection of a Shriver nomination? Ted’s views, Josephson wrote Shriver on August 17, are still “the crucial point.” What those views were, exactly, needed to be discovered soon. Perhaps, Josephson suggested, Eunice could contrive a trip home to visit relatives, and she could have the necessary meeting with her brother. “It is trickier [for you to come back to the United States] but perhaps you should. I don’t know. Do something.”
On August 20, Bill Moyers delivered to Humphrey a memo, “Concerning the Vice Presidency,” that he had written with Josephson, Herb Kramer, and others. The memo made a strong case for Shriver on his own merits, while trying to finesse the question of his being a “Kennedy candidate” without the support of certain Kennedy people.
Shriver would appeal to the young, because as director of the Peace Corps, Head Start, and other programs, he had become “the personal symbol for the idealism those programs inspired.” In the spring of 1968 Shriver, alone among LBJ’s high-ranking cabinet officials, could appear on college campuses without being picketed. Shriver could also reach out to black voters: Two years ago, the memo reminded Humphrey, Shriver had ridden through the streets of Watts, packed with 10,000 spectators, in a car on which his Watts hosts had written “Sargent Shriver—The Man Who Has Done the Most for the Negro.” Also, not only was Shriver a proven administrator, a forceful campaigner, and a nationally known figure, but he also had not been “a casualty of the Vietnam war.” The memo said:
As a member of the Administration he could not and did not denounce the war, but he appeals to critics of the war because he had been totally involved in the two Kennedy-Johnson programs most remote from and opposite to the war: The Peace Corps and the Economic Opportunity Programs. He is on record as consistently demanding a greater share of effort and funds for domestic programs. At the same time, as Ambassador to France, he personifies the overwhelming desire for peace as it is being sought in the Paris negotiations.
Finally, Shriver got along well with Humphrey and, as the “prototype of the modern American Catholic” (he had already been named America’s Catholic layman of the year), he would help win the crucial blue-collar ethnic vote.
Inevitably, however, the memo began with the Kennedy question, devoting more words to that than to any of Shriver’s individual traits.
Shriver appeals to many of the people reached by Robert Kennedy. Not because he is married into the Kennedy family, but because Shriver espouses many of the same causes, embraces many of the same principles, and creates some of the same kind of excitement as the late Senator, he stands in the Kennedy tradition. He is a personality in his own right, but it is a personality with the kind of charisma respected in the New Politics. It is argued by some that Shriver is not acceptable to the “Kennedy people,” but it needs to be asked, “Who are the ‘Kennedy people’ ”? Are they only the personal staff of the late Senator, or do they not include all those thousands of people, such as those who served in the Peace Corps, who remain loyal to the ideals of John and Robert Kennedy and wish to serve those ideals even though the men who embodied them are gone? They are also “Kennedy People.” Furthermore, Kennedy supporters are not monolithic. Some have gone to Eugene McCarthy, some to George McGovern [the South Dakota senator who had recently put himself into contention for the presidential nomination], some to Hubert Humphrey. It is absurd to argue that any one man is unacceptable to all “Kennedy people.”
The memo seems to have been leaked to Washington Post columnist Drew Pearson, who on August 21 wrote a column, “Shriver Stands out as VP Timber,” that strongly promoted Shriver along the lines outlined in the memo. Pearson, too, began by addressing the Kennedy question. “Four years ago when President Johnson considered drafting Shriver to be his 1964 running mate, Mrs. Shriver, who is the eldest of the Kennedy sisters, is reported to have said, ‘No, it’s Bob’s turn.’ Ken O’Donnell, JFK’s appointments secretary was even blunter. He sent word to Shriver that if any Kennedy were going to run for Vice President it would be Bobby, not a man who was only ‘half a Kennedy.’ Time and tragedy have changed this. Bobby is gone. Now it may be Sargent Shriver’s turn.”
Finally, Ted Kennedy spoke up. He telephoned Shriver in France on August 19 and the two brothers-in-law spoke for thirty minutes. On the question of whether “the family” would support Shriver on the Humphrey ticket, Kennedy was ultimately inconclusive. But the substance of the conversation, as Shriver reported it the next day in a letter, was revealing. Shriver wrote: “ ‘Kennedy wing’ of Dem. Party most anxious now to keep heat on HHH to change his policy (whatever it is today) on V-N & establish clear-cut position—let’s say same as Bobby’s—not same as Gene [McCarthy’s]. They feel if I were ‘available’ to HHH now that I would present a way for HHH to circumvent their efforts—an escape route if you will—at the precise time that they are trying to get maximum swing in their direction principally on the war & secondarily on national priorities for spending. I responded that I had no desire or intention of ‘circumventing’ such an effort and that I had been speaking about changing priorities for 3 years, well before anyone else.”
The conversation then turned more specifically to overt opposition to Shriver within the Kennedy camp. “I brought up issue presented to me by Sorensen, O’Donnell, S. Smith talk against me personally etc etc. To which he pointed out the reality that many K boosters really are sore at me—even bitter—because I didn’t help more [on Bobby’s campaign].” Teddy agreed to “keep in close touch” with Shriver through the convention and said that “if S.S. [Steve Smith] were the source [of the negative comments about Shriver] that he would slow him down or shut him up.”
But the fundamental problem, Shriver now realized, was “that most of those who had staked most of their personal hopes on RFK are extremely frustrated—and the prospect of anyone ‘in the family’ who didn’t impale himself—or herself—on a picket fence without regard to the consequence—suddenly being in a position to pick up all the marbles—that prospect is galling!”
His best hope of overcoming Humphrey’s nervousness about alienating the Kennedy family, Shriver now decided, was to instigate a lobbying effort on his behalf by other people close to Robert Kennedy. If Bobby’s supporters “could be persuaded to speak out publicly for me,” Shriver wrote, “that mere fact would start to kill the jazz being circulated by the Ted Sorensen-Arthur Schlesinger self-appointed mouthpieces.”
“All I asked Teddie was for neutrality,” Shriver continued. “I said frankly I had never asked him or Steve or anyone else in the family for anything—which is true. Now all I suggested was that it brought no c
redit to anyone for Steve or others to attack me. I can’t report that Teddie explicitly stated he would be neutral. My belief is this: He will try to be neutral if he doesn’t run himself—but his neutrality would be neutrality for Muskie or McGovern or [Maryland senator Joe Tydings] and neutrality against [Oklahoma senator] Fred Harris or me.”
In Shriver’s analysis, at least one of three things would have to happen for Humphrey to select him. One, an alternative Kennedy group (Feldman, Dutton, and company) could come out strongly for him. Two, Humphrey could adopt a strong anti-Vietnam platform at the convention, thereby mitigating the need for the Kennedy wing to apply pressure on him. And three, “if Humphrey really wanted me he could (theoretically) agree to most of the things the Kennedy wing wanted and say he had to have me with all-out support from Teddie. True, that’s expecting a lot from HHH but maybe he wants the Kennedy wing that badly!”
Shriver concluded his letter bitingly. “Clearly … the same clique who opposed [the Peace Corps] as an independent agency—the same palace guard (now without a palace) (or a pretender) find it hard to accept the prospect of a prodigal in-law (let alone son) sitting down to their feast.”
The pique Shriver expresses in this letter is striking—and uncharacteristic. This letter is one of the few tangible pieces of evidence revealing that he ever felt, in fifty years of being a Kennedy in-law, the slightest bitterness about his place in the clan. Many of his closest friends and associates say that in all their time of acquaintance with him, they never heard him express any overt resentment, regret, or frustration at the impositions and demands of the Kennedy family. Indeed, many of these same friends and associates express frustration on Shriver’s behalf, saying they can’t fathom how he endured so many years of subservience to his brothers-in-law and other family members. (Other of Shriver’s friends concede that there were moments when flashes of frustration showed through.) But Shriver himself, although he does not disavow the sentiments this letter expresses, has said for years that, on balance, he has felt blessed—personally and politically—to have been associated with the Kennedy family.
Moreover, Ted Kennedy, the most obvious candidate for Shriver’s hostility at this juncture, was a hard man to hate. Shriver had liked and greatly admired Jack, and for the most part respected Bobby. But he felt friendliest toward Ted, who had a warmer personality than either of his brothers, and he had a hard time holding family politics against him. The problem for Sarge in 1968, according to Donald Dell, who worked for both Shriver and Bobby Kennedy, was that “Steve [Smith] was the money guy for both Bobby and Ted. He was always in the middle of everything. He ran the financial side of the foundation. He had a major role in everything the family did. He was running [Bobby’s campaign] in early 1968, and later he was running [Ted’s campaigns].” This complicated Sarge’s dealings with the brothers.
Although there was tension between Bobby’s and Sarge’s staffs, Dell notes that “the two principals didn’t necessarily enter into it. For example: I have never heard Sarge criticize Bobby or Ted Kennedy in my presence ever, ever, at any time, and I’ve been damn close to Sarge, in a lot of situations. Having said that, there is no question in my mind that Sarge didn’t like some of the people around Bobby.”
Dell says that there was a “natural human competitiveness or jealousy” that ran both directions between some of Bobby’s advisers and Shriver.
Schlesinger and Sorenson, for instance. They were brilliant writers. One of the smartest guys Bobby ever had was Adam Walinsky. You’ll never meet a smarter guy than that. But none of these guys had the people skills, and the managerial ability of Sargent Shriver. Take Bobby Kennedy, whom everybody adored and loved: he had the aura and the Kennedy name and the good looks—but he didn’t have the people skills that Sargent Shriver had. Not even close. Don’t misunderstand me, I loved Bobby. I’m just saying they were different. And I think that most people in the Kennedy camp thought of Sarge as glib and easy and great with people—they used that to kind of knock him. Because they didn’t have his ability!
Such nuances, however, weren’t as good copy for the press as blunter accounts of family infighting. Word that the Kennedys had blackballed Shriver was soon reported by the press, with Drew Pearson providing the fullest play-by-play account. “Hubert Humphrey’s search for a Vice-President has run into a family feud that could only happen in the Kentucky mountains or with the Kennedy clan,” he reported with typical hyperbole several days into the convention.
Teddy Kennedy doesn’t want the Vice Presidency, but the family has turned thumbs down on Ted’s brother-in-law, Sargent Shriver, who does. And since one reason for putting Shriver on the ticket would be to get Kennedy family support, this amounts to a firm veto.
Among the Kennedys you play for keeps, and envoys for Hubert Humphrey have found that their views on brother-in-law Shriver are deadly serious. It is based on the family rule of succession and dates back to a meeting held in the White House immediately after the assassination in Dallas at which time it was decided that Robert F. Kennedy would pick up the mantle of his late brother and carry on.…
The reason for the family veto of Sargent Shriver now is the argument, first, that he is not really a Kennedy; second, that if he were elected Vice President he might get in the way of Teddy Kennedy’s future. The country might get fed up with a chain of Kennedys running for high office; or the Humphrey Administration, of which he would become a part, might become unpopular.
Although Humphrey had determined that Shriver possessed all the qualifications he was seeking in a running mate, he felt he couldn’t do anything until the Kennedy family blessed that selection. As Max Kampelman recalled in his memoir, “Hubert was very fond of Sarge, whose genial and charming exterior hid a strong sense of principle, personal integrity, and stubborn independence.” But Kenny O’Donnell passed the word to Humphrey that the family would consider it “an unfriendly act” if he were to select Shriver. Humphrey called Shriver in Paris to explain the bind he was in. When Sarge reported the situation to Eunice, she “began serving as her husband’s ambassador to remove the veto of the Kennedy family” and recruited her mother to the cause, as well. Still, Pearson observed, “it’s doubtful whether Mrs. Shriver can get much effective help from her mother in breaking down the Kennedy clan’s taboo on her husband as a candidate for Vice President. Meanwhile, however, Eunice has been wearing a Humphrey button in Paris and has made it unequivocably clear who she is for.”
Unfortunately, according to the Washington Post’s society columnist Maxine Cheshire (a longtime scourge of the Kennedys and other celebrities), Ethel Kennedy was running a counter campaign against Shriver. “We never took [Ethel’s opposition] very seriously, I give you my word,” Eunice would tell a reporter in 1972. “I consider Ethel my greatest friend. I’ve never had any feeling ever from her about disloyalty. And if she didn’t want Sarge to do something, I have full 100 percent confidence that she would call me and say, ‘For God’s sake, will you say this or say that to Sargent.’ She does not work around 18 people and say, ‘Stick it to Sarge.’ ”
History tends to bear out Eunice’s protestations of family harmony. In the 1970s, when some of Bobby and Ethel’s children were suffering with various well-publicized psychological problems and drug addictions, Ethel—herself suffering greatly in the aftermath of her husband’s assassination—turned to Eunice and Sarge for assistance, and they served for a while as surrogate parents for some of the kids in her large brood. Max Kennedy, for instance, lived with the Shrivers for a year when he began college, and he credits them with helping him to get his life on track.
Another columnist, Marianne Means, raised the question of whether the Kennedy family simply felt that Shriver was jumping his proper place in line ahead of Ted Kennedy and possibly Steve Smith. Smith, she noted, “has ambitions to run in 1969 for mayor of New York, a job [whose] national visibility … could easily spawn a presidential candidacy.”
With Ted Kennedy apparently neutral to negativ
e on Shriver, the odds that Humphrey would select him were small. But Shriver’s loyal crew of supporters persisted nonetheless, and they traveled to the convention in Chicago to press the case for their man. A few days before the convention opened, Oklahoma senator Fred Harris was telling Moyers that Humphrey had narrowed the list to Shriver and himself.
The journalist Theodore White later wrote that as the convention began, on the evening of Monday, August 26, “it was obvious that this promised to be one of the most unusual conventions in American political history.” But no one could have foretold just how damaging for the Democrats it would be. Walter Ridder later observed that for the Democratic Party, the convention was like the Lusitania, struck by the twin torpedoes of war and race but without anyone yet realizing that the ship was going down.
Through the first day of the convention, the leading rumor was that Ted Kennedy would be drafted into taking the presidential nomination after all. Southern delegates had been defecting from Humphrey, hoping to goad LBJ into jumping into the race. Dick Daley was reported to be holding his delegates back, waiting “to see if something develops.” The California delegation pledged all 174 of its delegates to Kennedy. But the Kennedy boom ended as quickly as it began. Southern delegates, fearing that Kennedy would be nominated, moved their support back to Humphrey. More important, Kennedy made clear through Steve Smith that he would not allow himself to be drafted.
By Wednesday morning, it looked as if Humphrey had the nomination sewn up. But as delegates heatedly debated Vietnam (a Humphrey-Johnson resolution favoring continued involvement was competing with a McCarthy resolution in favor of complete withdrawal), all hell was breaking loose outside on the streets. Vietnam protesters, civil rights activists, black power advocates, and various hippies, crazies, and drug-addled college students whipped themselves into an almost insurrectional frenzy—only to find themselves being brutalized by National Guardsmen and the Chicago police under Mayor Daley’s direction. Mobs of police clashed with mobs of protesters. It was as if all the pent-up frustrations and revolutionary aspirations loosed by the Great Society were welling up at once—and all the reactionary, counter-revolutionary forces provoked by the Great Society were stirring in response. And all of it was captured on television. “The whole world is watching, the whole world is watching!” the protesters cried. At 8:05 p.m. on Wednesday night, White jotted this sentence in his notebook: “The Democrats are finished.” A little more than three hours later, Humphrey was officially nominated by the convention to be the Democratic presidential candidate. “I was a victim of that convention,” Humphrey told White after the election, “as much as a man getting the Hong Kong flu. Chicago was a catastrophe.”
Sarge: The Life and Times of Sargent Shriver Page 66