Robert Samuelson of the Washington Post is a dutiful, sometimes thoughtful columnist specializing in economic affairs. He got on the John F. Kennedy media train early (November 10) to mark the 50th anniversary of the assassination of the 35th president of the United States. He was six, he says, when JFK was killed.
It appears since that time he has changed his young favorable opinion of Kennedy, but without gaining much thoughtful ground. Age and time (as Samuelson and others teach us) does not invariably result in any magical deposit of wisdom.
Kennedy was still a senator when he gave a speech at the Los Angeles Press Club located in the Ambassador Hotel, the place where Robert Kennedy was assassinated years later. In 1956, Jack Kennedy had come close to being nominated as Adlai Stevenson’s vice president candidate in that year’s presidential campaign, which Eisenhower easily won. That near miss caught the attention of a number of young people tired of the usual political gabble, narrow-mindedness and conventional attitudes regarding what the United States should be doing in the world.
Politicians tended to look somewhat the same (old, balding, fat, jowly), talk the same, twist their political ideologies the same. When I saw Kennedy’s speech at the L.A. Press Club, I was more impressed than I expected. His speech was something new. A combination of wry wit and gravitas, it had held the attention of a good-sized group of cynical journalists. This was particularly evident as he gracefully answered their critical questions with an adept balance of humor, intelligence, and a knowledge of many of his questioners.When the Democrats chose the Biltmore Hotel in downtown Los Angeles as their presidential convention headquarters – near the operational center of the corporation for which I worked – I became volunteer in the Kennedy campaign.
The Democratic Convention was much more fraught with uncertainty than today’s summarizers of that melee seem to realize. Adlai Stevenson arrived late, but his chief, most influential sponsor, Eleanor Roosevelt, had been busy among the state delegates, impressively arguing her well-known assessment of the Stevenson cause. Lyndon B. Johnson, Texas‘ much admired Senate majority leader, seen by Kennedy as his ablest opponent, was slow to declare himself a candidate. He did not participate in the primaries – few candidates did. The Hubert Humphrey versus Kennedy primaries were the most closely watched. And Humphrey lost.
A passel of Democratic presidential candidates turned the sedate Biltmore into chaos. Those familiar with Los Angeles – and San Francisco-based political shenanigans, – were not overly awed by this Biltmore-based potpourri of fat egos, stern-faced top advisors and lost armies of out-of-town gofers and spear-carriers.
But once Johnson stepped into the convention fray, he and Stevenson were considered the strongest Kennedy opponents. But Stevenson drove his supporters into a fury with his dawdling. Stevenson badly wanted the nomination, but shunned the rough-and-tumble tactics necessary to win delegates. He felt that as a two-time Democratic candidate he deserved the party’s support. That proved to be a mirage. The real threat would come from Lyndon Johnson.
A showdown came when Johnson pounced on a Kennedy form letter (which was not supposed to be sent to the Texas delegation), that sought meetings with “all” delegations. Johnson swiftly and noisily invited Kennedy to meet with the Texans, proposing a “debate” between himself and “young Jack,” as he was now referring to Kennedy. Johnson, like his fellow Texan and mentor, Speaker of the House Sam Rayburn, believed Kennedy’s mushiest vulnerabilities began with his youth and his Catholicism – and went on from there. I and many of my co-workers for Kennedy – all young, most holding influential jobs – harbored fears that Rayburn, Johnson, along with Harry Truman, could influence the Democrat delegates. We, and everyone else, hoped Kennedy would not take Johnson’s challenge to appear before the Texas delegation, joined by other Kennedy opponents. It was a trap, we said. Our candidate would be surrounded by a roomful of enemies. At a negotiated joint Texas-Massachusetts meeting, Johnson spoke first, of course – which Kennedy anticipated. When Johnson had finished his list of Kennedy’s obstacles and short-comings – contrasting them of his own history of congressional service and accomplishment – we held our breaths.
Kennedy stepped forward with a polite smile and noted that when Johnson mentioned the absenteeism of “some people,” he had not specified whose derelictions he was stressing. “I assume he was referring to some other candidate ...” and went on to complement Johnson for his years of legislative service and accomplishment. Thus, he said, “I come here today full of admiration for Senator Johnson, full of affection for him.” Kennedy said he strongly supported Johnson’s hard work and political acumen, and hoped he would continue to apply them – ”in the Senate.” Those last words marred Johnson’s nomination effort. For the media it was ‘the” story: An unexpectedly wry, nimble response.
Somewhat like Johnson, Robert Samuelson’s unfortunate column puts forth the careless, cliched complaint: Kennedy “supporters argue that he would have reversed the expansion of the Vietnam War in a second term … presidents are judged on what they did, not what they might have done.” Samuelson should get out more, broaden his reading habits.
“The record shows that on October 2 and 5, 1963, President Kennedy issued a formal decision to withdraw American forces from Vietnam,” writes James K. Galbraith, professor at the Lyndon B. Johnson School of Public Affairs and at the Department of Government at the University of Texas, Austin. “I documented this in the New York Review of Books in 2007. The relevant documents include records of the Secretary of Defense conference in Honolulu, May, 1963; tapes and transcripts of the decision meeting in the White House; and a memorandum from General Maxwell Taylor to the Joint Chiefs of Staff, October 4, 1963: “All planning will be directed toward preparing RVN forces for the withdrawal of all United States special assistance units and personnel by the end of calendar year 1965.” James K. Galbraith is the son of John Kenneth Galbraith (1908-2006), a Canadian-born internationally recognized U.S economist, government official, diplomat, author and public intellectual and a long-time professor of economics at Harvard. “Ken” Galbraith, a prolific author, was most widely recognized for a trilogy on economics: “American Capitalism” (1952), “The Affluent Society” (1958), “The Industrial State” (1967). He served in the administrations of Franklin D. Roosevelt, Harry S. Truman, John F. Kennedy and Lyndon B. Johnson. He was Kennedy’s Ambassador to India. His writing and wide influence made him “the best-known economist in the world.” Galbraith was one of a few recipients both of the Medal of Freedom (1964) and the Presidential Medal of Freedom (2000) for his public service and contribution to science. He was in Los Angeles for the 1960 Democratic Convention, and was a close advisor to J.F.K. He later shared his official Kennedy experiences with his son, James K. Galbraith, who is also a senior scholar with the Levy Economics Institute of Bard College.