LBJ -- The Choices You Have to Make

In 1968, San Antonio, Texas was the official site of the Worlds' Fair. They called it “HemisFair '68,” and from April 6 to Oct. 6, a span of seven months, about six million visitors flocked to the fair, taking in exhibits from more than 30 countries and fifteen corporations. The theme of the fair was "The Confluence of Civilizations in the Americas", celebrating the many nations which settled the region, and it coincided with the 250th anniversary of the founding of San Antonio in 1718.

San Antonio had already enjoyed its share of notoriety. It was also the home of the sitting President of the United States Lyndon Baines Johnson, aka LBJ.

The Johnson Ranch was virtually a stone’s throw from the fairgrounds, and on this, opening day, the main house and outdoor pavilion were abuzz with frenetic pre-event activity. I was part of a group commanded by Liz Carpenter – a close friend of First Lady “Ladybird” Johnson – and tasked with putting on a grand ‘ol Opening Day Texas BBQ for a press plane full of reporters, newsmen and various other personages of prominence. The President himself had actually agreed to be there to meet and greet. It was to be quite a show, as they say, quite a show.

And it would have been, too, but for a single historical glitch: the night before, Civil Rights Leader Reverend Martin Luther King had been assassinated in Memphis, Tennessee.

Like the rest of the nation, we were shocked and deeply saddened by the violent loss of such a great man. That being said, we were also all very concerned, and rightly so, that the attentions of the press officers from all over the world would be disastrously drawn to the events in Memphis. The World’s Fair was about to become nothing more than a distraction…a blip on the civic radar…and in all likelihood, a dismal failure.

Crisis Management. The plan was to keep the press so distracted by pomp and circumstance and celebratory activities at the ranch that events elsewhere became less…prominent. We removed all the televisions, all the electronic media and redoubled efforts to focus their attention on the Worlds’ Fair and the significance of the fair. We attempted to create our own little island right there in the glorious Texas dust.

It was really quite a crazy time. Made crazier, of course, by the guilt and misgivings we all suffered in our efforts to simply do our job. We all knew where our hearts and minds should be focused. The death of Dr. King was a monumental turning point in world events. It was a time of profound sorrow and loss, fear and anger…and it demanded our attention. We comported ourselves gallantly, but we were losing a battle that we shouldn’t even be hoping to win.

The next morning – after a sleepless night…I trudged downstairs to the front porch with a steaming mug of coffee to contemplate the next move. Sitting there alternately looking out at the flat Texas landscape and staring down at my own feet, I got the feeling that somebody was watching me.

The President was there. Lyndon Johnson…on the porch in the early morning light, wrestling with the same demons as I. Pleasantries were exchanged. We talked about the weather, the view. We talked around things for a brief time. Finally he said to me…”Would you like to go for a ride, Frank?”

I had no idea what those words meant at that point. I was about to be educated.

Cadillac convertible. LBJ behind the wheel. Me riding “shotgun” beside him. We begin with a tour of the place – points of interest and significance, etc. -- and it took virtually no time at all for the speed of the Caddy to achieve a level commensurate with the mood of the driver. Frustration over the reality of the King assassination, the compromise of the American Dream, the state of the union and the whole damn thing, LBJ lead-footed the gas like we were on the home stretch in a stock car bound for Hell.

We left the ground any number of times…and it occurred to me that this was probably not a good place for me to be.

I can see the headlines: PRESIDENT KILLED IN AUTOMOBILE MISADVENTURE. No mention of me. My name would not even be a footnote. Given the circumstances, no one would be able to identify my poor, burned, broken body anyway.

Dust flying. Trees and scrub whizzing by. I felt like my hair was in the back seat. Absolutely petrified. LBJ seemed to have forgotten I was there. Preoccupied with what to do, when to do it, how to gauge, how to deal and how to move forward in the wake of the tragedy.

And he was doing it on auto pilot. Behind the wheel of a car with not a shred of awareness of how fast he was going or any awareness that he had company. And that his companion was frantically in search of the bail out button.

We survived. We got back to the ranch and we pulled up and there was his entourage. They had seen the dust cloud of our pilgrimage, assessed its trajectory and were awaiting splashdown.

The President decided to go back to Washington – abandon the appearance at the San Antonio Fair -- and be the presence that he was required to be.  You need to be where you have to be. Sometimes you have to make the decision you have to make...No matter what a little “LadyBird” tells you.