Kennedy

by Ted Sorensen

  If the Senator had any anxiety, it did not show in his voice. He scoffed at that day’s headlines predicting vast gains for others. He liked Freeman’s speech. He liked our line-up of seconding speakers. They included a woman and a Negro, a farm state Governor and a Southern Governor-elect, an older liberal and a younger moderate. They represented power in all sections, including several states not strongly for Kennedy, and they were all Protestants. He also admired the cynically brilliant speech nominating Stevenson, which had been delivered by Humphrey’s friend and colleague, Senator Eugene McCarthy, who was actually for Johnson. But Kennedy sounded wholly unconcerned about the ensuing applause and demonstration for Stevenson. The hard work on the delegates was over for him. There was nothing he could do then but watch.

  At 10:07 P.M. the roll was called.

  Alabama, 29 votes: A year earlier, youthful Governor Patterson, admiring Bob’s racket-busting and Jack’s vigor, had publicly endorsed the Senator against the latter’s wishes and to their mutual embarrassment; but only 3½ votes now remained with Kennedy as Johnson gained the bulk of the rest.

  Alaska, 9 votes: A narrow majority of delegates decided during convention week to give all 9 to Kennedy under the “unit rule.”

  Arizona, 17 votes: Led by the hard-working and articulate Congressman Stewart Udall, Kennedy backers at the April state convention had fought off an astonished, previously confident Symington-Johnson coalition to capture for Kennedy, again under the unit rule, the full 17 votes.

  Arkansas, 27 votes: Earlier in the week the state chairman had assured me that the controversial Governor Orville Faubus would lead his state to Johnson but would not walk out on a Kennedy nomination. All 27 for Johnson.

  California, 81 votes: Stevenson received here his only large bloc of votes, as Kennedy wondered again whether he should have entered the primary; but the Stevenson delegates were far less numerous than his vocal supporters and Kennedy received 3 more votes than the 304 he had anticipated.

  Colorado, 21 votes: Byron “Whizzer” White and Joe Dolan, with the help of repeated Kennedy trips, had secured 134 for JFK.

  Connecticut, 21 votes: Ribicoff, Bailey, New England—all Kennedy.

  Delaware, 11 votes: Majority cast all 11 under the unit rule for Johnson, a disappointment to Kennedy, who had counted on several.

  Florida, 29 votes: Favorite-son Smathers.

  Georgia, 33 votes: Johnson. Kennedy’s increasing outspokenness on civil rights and Johnson’s almost regional candidacy would give the latter a total of 307 Southern votes and the Massachusetts Senator 13.

  Hawaii, 9 votes; and Idaho, 13 votes: Divided evenly between Johnson and Kennedy, who were now neck-and-neck in the totals. More important was our own tabulation which showed Kennedy more than half a dozen votes ahead of the number we had privately claimed for this quarter-way mark in the balloting.

  Illinois, 69 votes: 2 votes for Stevenson in his home state, 5½ votes from southern Illinois for their Missouri neighbor Symington, and 61½ votes for Kennedy, due in large measure to Chicago’s resolute Mayor and political leader, Dick Daley.1 From this point on Kennedy was never behind.

  Indiana, 34 votes: All Kennedy on the first ballot by virtue of the primary.

  Iowa, 26 votes: In a major gain for Kennedy, favorite-son Governor Herschel Loveless—with the help of the convention Parliamentarian and Chairman, and over the protests of Kennedy opponents, who insisted Iowa was bound—withdrew before the balloting to give 214 first-ballot votes to Kennedy, who had only been counting on 19 second-ballot votes from Iowa. This meant that if Kennedy strength in the rest of the states held as predicted on our private tally sheets, a majority would be obtained on the first ballot.

  Kansas, 8 votes: The delegation was reported out caucusing. Some said the Kennedy and Symington forces in the state were evenly split, making another caucus at this time necessary. Others said their leaders sought to gain more credit and glory by leading a trend to Kennedy at the close of the first ballot. Whatever the reason, Kansas passed. But Kennedy had not expected their votes on the first ballot anyway.

  Kentucky, 31 votes; and Louisiana, 26 votes: 51½ for Johnson, 3½ for Kennedy.

  Maine, 15 votes: All for Kennedy, the hope of a solid New England bloc of 114 votes finally having been realized.

  Maryland, 24 votes: Kennedy’s on the first ballot by virtue of the primary.

  Massachusetts, 41 votes: Kennedy.

  Michigan, 51 votes: 42½ Kennedy, as Mennen Williams had pledged.

  Minnesota, 31 votes; Mississippi, 23 votes; Missouri, 39 votes: All had their own favorite sons, giving none to either Kennedy or Johnson. We had counted on none.

  This was roughly the halfway mark, and Kennedy was not only well ahead of Johnson but within reach of a majority on this ballot. Outside of California, Stevenson thus far had 18 votes. Outside of Missouri, Symington thus far had 29 votes. Outside of the South, Johnson thus far had 26& votes. Kennedy had only 7 Southern votes but was drawing strongly from all other sections.

  Montana, 17 votes: 10 for Kennedy, £ more than we had counted on.

  Nebraska, 16 votes: 11 for Kennedy, winner of the state’s advisory primary.

  Nevada, 15 votes: 54 for Kennedy, slightly fewer than hoped for.

  New Hampshire, 11 votes: Kennedy—that long-ago first primary.

  New Jersey, 41 votes: All for favorite-son Meyner, who still clung to the illusion that he would emerge as a compromise choice; Kennedy, counting on 35 to 40 second-ballot votes here to bring him victory, had done his best to keep eager Kennedy supporters in the New Jersey delegation from alienating their Governor.

  New Mexico, 17 votes: After a bitter state convention fight in the spring with supporters of neighbor Lyndon Johnson, who claimed all 17, Kennedy forces had settled for 4 votes.

  New York, 114 votes: Deluged with Stevenson telegrams, led by professionals more accustomed to candidates like Symington and Johnson, New York cast 104½ votes for Kennedy, ½ more than we had counted on.

  North Carolina, 37 votes: Only 6 for Kennedy, but these included a courageous Governor-elect, Terry Sanford, whose announcement earlier in the week was Kennedy’s first break in the Solid South, and who had seconded Kennedy’s nomination when all other Southern governors were for Johnson.

  North Dakota, 11 votes: Demonstrating that continued contact and effort with the smallest of states is worthwhile, North Dakota gave Kennedy all u. Our supporters had started out the week with 5, raised it to 5½, then to 6, then voted 6-5 to impose the unit rule.

  Ohio, 64 votes: Mike DiSalle’s word was good—all for Kennedy.

  Oklahoma, 29 votes: Governor Edmondson, a Kennedy friend, had lost control of his party and delegation—all for Johnson.

  Oregon, 17 votes: All for Kennedy by virtue of the primary, except for one National Committee member who had half a vote.

  Pennsylvania, 81 votes: Kennedy enthusiasm in Philadelphia and other counties had finally won over Governor Lawrence and 68 votes. Now we were looking ahead on our tally sheets to see if a majority was possible on this ballot.

  Rhode Island, 17 votes; and Vermont, 9 votes: New England and Kennedy.

  South Carolina, 21 votes; Tennessee, 33 votes; Texas, 61 votes; and Virginia, 33 votes: Southern and Johnson.

  South Dakota, 11 votes: With Humphrey out, 4 to Kennedy.

  Utah, 13 votes; and Washington, 27 votes: Neither the Mormons in Utah nor the Catholic Governor of Washington had been enthusiastic at first about Kennedy’s leading their ticket, but our tally sheet predicted 19½ of their 40 combined votes would go for Kennedy and he received 22½.

  West Virginia, 25 votes; and Wisconsin, 31 votes: Two hard-fought primaries (only the latter was binding) netted Kennedy 38 votes, most of the Humphrey delegates in Wisconsin refusing to switch.

  Kennedy now had 750 votes of the 761 needed.

  Wyoming, with 15 votes, was the last state, and 8½ of her votes were believed to be Kennedy’s. The remaining 2½ votes, we were certain, could
be obtained from the Virgin Islands (4 votes, all counted on by Kennedy) and Puerto Rico (7 votes, split between two conflicting groups but both for Kennedy), thus requiring no help from the Canal Zone (4 votes for Johnson) or the District of Columbia (9 former Humphrey votes supposedly divided between Kennedy, Symington and Stevenson).

  But no more were needed. Wyoming, alerted by Teddy Kennedy to the important role it could play, triumphantly cast all 15 votes for Kennedy to put him over the top. To the dismay of all the experts predicting a deadlock, all the politicians awaiting the next ballot, all the would-be king-makers in New Jersey and Kansas, Kennedy had won on the first ballot.

  The pattern of victory was not very different from that he had planned over a year earlier: “New England, plus the primaries, plus the big Northern states, plus half of the West and scattered other votes to make up for a near shutout in the South.” If Iowa had been required by the convention Parliamentarian to vote for its favorite son on the first ballot, if Wyoming had consequently cast only the 8£ votes for Kennedy, if he had consequently missed a first-ballot majority by 4 or more votes, if second-ballot defections in Indiana, Maryland, California, Ohio or other states had started a trend elsewhere…but Kennedy’s whole campaign had been keyed to making the “ifs” break his way.

  The successful candidate had watched it all from a private home. Earlier in the day, to escape the press, which had located his “hideaway” apartment, he had scrambled down a fire escape and over a back fence with Dave Powers to go in private to see his parents. But when the roll call started, said Dave, “You never saw a man so calm in all your life…. He knew he had done the work.” As the balloting started, a blown fuse knocked out his television reception. But it was back on long before he gleefully spied brother Teddy standing, equally gleefully, next to the Wyoming delegation chairman. Teddy’s broad smile was the tip-off. “This could be it,” said the Senator—and it was.

  His first act as nominee was to use one of his four special telephone lines to call Jacqueline, who, expecting John, Jr., had remained in Hyannis Port. His next was to speed to the Convention Hall, where, surrounded by his family and key political supporters, he made a brief statement of appreciation. His next was to go back to his apartment for some eggs and some sleep. And his next was to select a running mate.

  THE VICE PRESIDENCY

  “I think he should be competent to fulfill the office of President,” the Senator had said in outlining to an interviewer the qualities he would require of a running mate. “I think he should be a man experienced in problems of the United States, farm particularly…somebody from the Middle West or Far West.” And earlier he had denied that his own rejection of the job meant he downgraded its importance:

  I will select the best man I could get. If my life expectancy was not what I hope it will be…but that really is not…an enviable prospect for the second man…to exert influence in the course of events [only] if I should die.

  In keeping with his usual practice of concentrating on one step at a time, the Senator would not decide on a running mate until his own nomination was a fact. But he had thought about it. Harris Polls showed Johnson and Humphrey helping in some areas and hurting in others, while most other prospects made little difference.

  I had submitted to the Senator and brother Bob several weeks earlier, as had many others, a list of potential Vice Presidential nominees. On my list twenty-two names were reduced to fifteen and then to six. The Vice President-picking process invariably begins with a search for someone who will strengthen the ticket and invariably ends with a search for someone who won’t weaken it. Those ruled out on my list were too liberal, too conservative, too inarticulate, too offensive to some groups in the party, too much like Kennedy in strengths and weaknesses or too young (“We don’t want the ticket referred to as ‘the whiz kids,’” I wrote). I placed at the top of my list, as did many others, the name of one man who had none of these disqualifications and many qualifications: Lyndon B. Johnson.

  Many stories have circulated about Kennedy’s choice of Johnson: that his father dictated it—that Johnson, or Rayburn on Johnson’s behalf, took the initiative on it with an ultimatum to Kennedy—that Johnson and Kennedy secretly agreed on it before the convention opened—that Johnson told Kennedy he would fight for the nomination if Kennedy, having suggested it, later retracted. None of these stories is true.

  Despite the regional nature of his support for the Presidency, Johnson was more of a national figure than a Southerner. The youngest Majority Leader in history, a Senator’s Senator who had accomplished more in the Congress during the previous eight years than Eisenhower, he certainly was no stranger to agriculture and the West. He had strong voter appeal in areas where Kennedy had little or none. He was a Protestant with a capital P. His work on behalf of foreign aid, social legislation and particularly civil rights had modified liberal opposition. His assistance with a Kennedy Congress would be indispensable.

  Above all, Kennedy respected him and knew he could work with him. Lyndon Johnson was, in his opinion, the next best qualified man to be President. He admired from firsthand observation Johnson’s tireless ability to campaign, cajole and persuade. He admired his leadership of the party during its dark days and his sure-footed finesse in the Senate. Referring to Johnson’s powerful position when introducing him to a Boston audience in 1959, he had observed, “Some people say our speaker might be President in 1960, but, frankly, I don’t see why he should take a demotion.” In his notes for that night, he had scrawled out many genuine compliments: “…the most skillful parliamentary leader since Henry Clay…speaks not just for Texas but for the country…the man whose personal friendship I value…a great American.”

  Johnson, in turn, had been grateful to Kennedy for defending him when liberal Democrats sought a post-1956 scapegoat. “I have always had great faith in your integrity and your independence of thought,” Johnson wrote him, “and you have never let me down.” And Johnson’s selection of Kennedy over Kefauver for the Senate Foreign Relations Committee in 1957 had helped cement relations.

  The campaign had not altered their friendly regard for each other. Johnson had started late, preferring his Senate position to the primaries and wary of losing face by losing a race with a younger Senator. Sam Rayburn did not think a Catholic could win or should win, but no hint of religious bias ever appeared in Johnson’s speeches. He made no mention of Kennedy in announcing his own availability, and he repudiated the Connally-Edwards charge that Kennedy was too sick to be President. It was generally agreed that, if nominated, he would want Jack Kennedy as his running mate. (“I can see it now,” one magazine had claimed a Johnson aide said. “Hell be standing there in the hotel room after the nomination and hell say, ‘We want that boy for Vice President. Go get him for me!’”)

  Although the Massachusetts Senator had not been as close to the Majority Leader as many of his colleagues and competitors, he had refused to seek the favor of liberal Democrats—even in Wisconsin, where he needed their votes—by joining in their criticism of the Texan’s leadership. He had tossed a few gibes Johnson’s way. Referring to the latter’s statement that the party needed a man “with a little gray in his hair,” Kennedy told a crowd of enthusiastic supporters at Los Angeles that “we put that gray in his hair and we will continue to do so.” In private he would sometimes speak far more sharply. But his basic attitude remained one of admiration and affection. A rumor that, if elected, he intended dislodging Johnson as Majority Leader was wholly false. Asked on television whether, as President, he could continue to work with Johnson as Majority Leader after “he said some rather harsh things about your youth and inexperience,” Kennedy replied emphatically that he could.

  As runner-up in the Presidential balloting (409 votes compared to Kennedy’s 806), as leader of the party in the Senate, as candidate of the area most opposed to Kennedy, as spokesman for a large state that would be difficult for Kennedy to carry, Johnson was the strongest potential running mate and the log
ical man to be given “first refusal” on the job. Al Smith, the only previous Catholic nominee, had picked a Protestant Southern Senator, Joseph Robinson; and Franklin Roosevelt had picked a Texas Congressional leader, John Garner. Johnson, Kennedy felt, would strengthen the ticket in the South. And he was less certain that the Midwest and West, his other areas of weakness, could be carried by the Democrats in 1960 no matter whom he selected.

  Yet neither Kennedy nor anyone else could have expected that Johnson would accept, just as Johnson had not expected to be asked. Kennedy had publicly stated in January that he did not think Johnson, Humphrey or Symington would accept second place. A Johnson aide had reportedly said, “Can you imagine Lyndon sitting there watching someone else trying to run his Senate?” Senate Majority Secretary Robert Baker, a Johnson confidant, cautioned me in June not to be so certain that his boss would reject a Kennedy-Johnson ticket. But Johnson himself commented emphatically only one day before the convention opened: “I wouldn’t want to trade a vote for a gavel, and I certainly wouldn’t want to trade the active position of leadership of the greatest deliberative body in the world for the part-time job of presiding.” Earlier he had said, “The Vice Presidency is a good place for a young man who needs experience…a young man who needs training.”

  But friends of both men—particularly Philip Graham, publisher of the Washington Post, and columnist Joe Alsop—had urged Kennedy to try Johnson’s availability; and a warm congratulatory telegram from Johnson after the balloting helped persuade the nominee to make a serious effort in that direction.

  With only a few hours of sleep, he returned to his Biltmore headquarters and called Johnson around 8 A.M. He asked to talk with the Majority Leader in Johnson’s suite in that same hotel in two hours (Johnson had been awakened by his wife to take the call). At the meeting, laying stress on national and party unity, Kennedy asked about the Vice Presidency. Johnson said he was interested, and both men agreed to discuss it with other leaders.