Caroli Betty Boyd - Lady Bird and Lyndon : the hidden story of a marriage that made a president

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ALSO BY BETTY BOYD CAROLI

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Copyright 2015 by Betty Boyd Caroli

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First Simon & Schuster hardcover edition October 2015

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Book design by Ellen R. Sasahara

Jacket design by Tom McKeveny

Jacket photograph Everett Collection

Author photograph courtesy of the author

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Caroli, Betty Boyd.

Lady Bird and Lyndon : the hidden story of a marriage that made a president / Betty Boyd Caroli.First Simon & Schuster hardcover edition.

pages cm

Includes bibliographical references and index. 1. Johnson, Lady Bird, 19122007Marriage. 2. Johnson, Lyndon B. (Lyndon Baines), 19081973Marriage. 3. Married peopleUnited StatesBiography. 4. Presidents spousesUnited StatesBiography. 5. PresidentsUnited StatesBiography. I. Title.

E848.J64C37 2015

973.923092'2dc23

[B]2015011027

ISBN 978-1-4391-9122-4

ISBN 978-1-4391-9124-8 (ebook)

To Livio

A T EXACTLY 4 p.m. on December 9, 1967, Lady Bird Johnson started a slow, dignified descent down the wide stairway from the residential quarters of the White House to the State Floor, where more than six hundred guests were waiting. All of them were dressed for an evening gala, and while some lingered around the foyer at the foot of the stairs, chatting in small groups, others had already taken their places in the huge East Room, where Lady Bird was headed. In the four years of her husbands presidency, she had walked this route dozens of times to greet heads of state and delegations of various sizes from all over the United States. But today was different. And very special. Today her twenty-three-year-old daughter, Lynda, was marrying the military aide she had begun dating that summer.

The press had avidly reported on all the prenuptial festivities leading up to this, the first White House wedding of a presidents daughter in more than fifty years, and Lady Bird was determined to deliver an event perfect down to the smallest detail. Since the August morning when she first learned of her daughters decision to wed Charles Chuck Robb, she had devoted more hours than she could count to mulling over white silks for the gown that Geoffrey Beene would design for the bride. She had composed and then revised guest lists and she had considered multiple cake recipes before deciding on the pound cake, flavored with rum and white raisins. She had even taken time to insure that the cameras recording the ceremony would be hidden, their presence indicated only by tiny slits in the white fabric backdrop behind the improvised altar.

Dedicating this much attention to her daughter was uncharacteristic of Lady Bird Johnson, who knew she did not deserve high marks for her mothering. Both her daughters had told her so, sometimes in teary-eyed sorrow or in accusatory tones. In her household, Lyndon always came first, and she had often left Lynda and the younger Luci for weeks at a time so she could appear at his side in political campaigns and cater to his every command. Even when she resolved to stay behind with her daughters, she would change her mind and go to him, unable to resist his plea that he needed her. Rather than offer some excuse for falling short, she admitted to her diary that she had neglected her daughters but not enough for me to get a guilt complex.

On the wintry afternoon of Lyndas wedding, Lady Birds arrival in the East Room was the signal for the ceremony to begin. As soon as she took her place behind the velvet rope setting off a space around the altar for the wedding party, the groomsmen began filing in, followed by the bridesmaids in their Christmasy red gowns. As the Marine Band struck up Here Comes the Bride, it was as if a drum roll had suddenly hushed the crowd, and Lady Bird could see all eyes turn toward the door to watch Lynda enter on her daddys arm. Beautiful as Lynda looked in her regal high-necked gown, embroidered with silk flowers and seed pearls, Lady Birds gaze fastened not on her daughter but on Lyndon. In her account of that day, she described how she watched him all the way to the altar, her heart full of tenderness for the man whose hair suddenly looked much whiter than before.

The East Room was so packed that everyone had to remain standing, except for a handful of elderly guests who had been provided with benches. How different this glittering crowd was from the motley small gathering that witnessed Lady Birds wedding thirty-three years earlier in Texas. Surrounding her today were U.S. senators alongside Supreme Court justices and American ambassadors who had journeyed from posts in Europe and Asia to attend. She knew most of the six-hundred-plus by name, while at her own wedding, an impromptu event put together by a friend of Lyndons, the only familiar face was that of her college roommate.

Although clad for Lyndas wedding in a costly designer outfit, Lady Bird knew there would be odious comparisons made between her and her glamorous predecessor, Jacqueline Kennedy. In the aftermath of JFKs assassination, flustered Americans meeting Lady Bird for the first time occasionally blurted out Mrs. Kennedys name instead of hers. Even after that stopped and Lady Bird became a household name, she understood she would never match Jackies magic, her ability to draw people to her like a Pied Piper. But the comparisons failed to sting. Lady Bird blithely brushed off derogatory references to her looks and provincial tastes, and when once faced with a portrait emphasizing her prominent nose, she quipped that it looked just like my nose looks.

When the time came for Chuck and Lynda to repeat their vows, Lady Bird warmed to the way the bridegroom answered in firm and clear tones. But it was Lyndons response to the ministers question, Who gives this woman in marriage? that she thought sent a ripple of emotion through the crowd. Lyndon had said, Her mother and I.