A personal interlude
before we begin. When I was twenty-one I saw Oliver Stone’s beyond
controversial JFK. I thought that it was unfocused but I believed it was
a cinematic masterpiece. More than twenty years later I believe it is a
masterpiece but only in the sense that we regard movies such as The Birth of
a Nation and Triumph of the Will.
JFK is, from beginning to end,
not merely a polemic but one of pure propaganda. It is an investigation into a
murder where everyone had a motive even though the victim did nothing to bring
it about. The opening narration
basically argues that Kennedy was a saint trying to bring about systemic changes
and that as a result, the military-industrial complex had him killed. Stone,
using Jim Garrison as his stick figure, basically argues that Kennedy was
killed because of the system and in what is the most direct act of slander in a
movie, more or less, says that Lyndon Johnson was an unindicted co-conspirator
who agreed to let Kennedy be killed and let the Vietnam War escalate so he
could become President.
This was essentially
refuted within months of Stone’s film and there has never been any evidence to
support it beyond the rantings of conspiracy theorists. Yet Stone has never backed down from that
perspective. If anything, he has done everything in his power to argue for the
Kennedy legacy. In a separate documentary for Showtime, he more or less accused
every President since World War II of being responsible for maintaining America
as an empire. But he deliberately absolved JFK of any responsibility and
maintained his argument that Kennedy was essentially killed because of his threat
to the military-industrial complex. Recently he did another documentary where
he continued to argue that the CIA was responsible for multiple assassinations during
the Kennedy administration but that Kennedy never took part in them and was trying
to dismantle them.
Just as there has been no
evidence in the last sixty years to refuted the Warren Commission’s finding
that Oswald acted alone, there has been a plethora of evidence arguing that
Kennedy not only knew of the CIA’s operations, particularly in Cuba, but actively
supported them. The Pentagon Papers made it very clear that the Kennedy
administration did nothing to shrink the Vietnam War and was in fact
responsible for authorizing the assassination of Ngo Dinh Diem’s a month
before his own murder. And as I have mentioned in my own series on the Kennedy’s,
even Robert himself admitted based on the evidence that they had, his brother
would have escalated the war.
But despite all this, despite
the fact that most of Johnson’s cabinet were holdovers from Kennedy’s
administration, despite the fact that Johnson himself was held absent from any
real decision making in any part of domestic or foreign policy, the vast
majority of Americans, at the time and now, still refuse to acknowledge that
Kennedy bares any responsibility for the Vietnam War. They will argue he was a saint, even though
he slept with countless women during his administration and before, and though
he essentially stole the 1960 election from Nixon. Stone himself acknowledged
as much in his own movie on Nixon four years after JFK. But none of that
has made into his documentaries since then. He may claim to be a truth-teller
but he is one of the fiercest propagandists of the Kennedy legacy.
Now I’m not saying that
LBJ doesn’t bare a large amount of blame for everything that happened in
Vietnam; he did deceive the American public about what was happened and he did
continue to recklessly expand the war against the protesting. That should not
negate all the great things he managed to accomplish in his administration,
particularly during the first two years after being reelection. The Great
Society accomplished more things for minorities and the underprivileged that
Kennedy had managed to do in his entire term; that Kennedy himself would probably
never have tried to do. But that never
mattered to the people marching in the streets then and to countless people for
decades afterwards. Lyndon Johnson was in office when the Vietnam War escalated,
therefore it was his war.
Now imagine how much worse
it was for Hubert Humphrey. The moment he was sworn in as Vice President, his
own legacy of the past sixteen years was essentially discarded by everybody.
Not merely the critics of the administration, but the administration itself.
Humphrey himself knew it and was fiercely unhappy. “The President has 190
million bosses he once said. The Vice President had 190 million and One.”
When a friend tried to tell him that because Johnson himself had been Vice
President, he had to understand what Humphrey was going through, Humphrey was
blunt: “There is no President who understands.”
And it was so true. Humphrey’s
relationship with Johnson was almost immediately ruined within a month of his
being sworn in. In February of 1965, he disagreed with Johnson over his
decision to launch a sustained bombing of military targets in North Vietnam. He
opposed escalating the war. He believed Dean Rusk and Robert McNamara would
support him but they said nothing. Johnson was furious with what he considered
Humphrey’s betrayal and essentially
froze him out for the next year. Worse he began to essentially take credit for
all of Humphrey’s accomplishments on Civil Rights by abolishing two committees
Humphrey had chaired and putting their responsibilities under the Justice
Department.
Their relationship more or
less went from mentor and student to master and servant. Johnson did everything
in his power to weaken Humphrey, from refusing him to take reporters when he
traveled, to blaming him for most leaks
that came from the White House, to berating him in public. When Humphrey was
finally brought back into the fold in 1966, Johnson would essentially make him the administration’s
spokesman for policy in Vietnam.
Humphrey has taken a fair
amount of blame then and now for becoming such an enthusiastic cheerleader for
everything going on in Vietnam, especially as the conflict worsened. Many of his liberal friends accused him of
betraying the movement he had once lead. Yet I am inclined to view it simply as
another case of Humphrey’s pragmatism.
Hubert Humphrey wanted to
be President of the United States. To do so, he had to remain in Lyndon Johnson’s
good graces. If he did not, there was every chance the temperamental Johnson would
drop him from the ticket in 1968 and his political life would be over. If he
played the good soldier and went along with it, he would most likely be the frontrunner
for the Democratic nomination in 1972. He would have to fight out with Robert
Kennedy, but considering how much Johnson loathed RFK he would more likely have
the support of the White House. So Humphrey hid whatever doubts he had, took
the abuse from the protestors and his own colleagues and just held on. He had
no idea what was coming.
In March of 1968, Lyndon
Johnson told Humphrey that he was calling for a bombing halt and more
importantly that he was not going to run for reelection. Humphrey was appalled.
Johnson said otherwise no one would believe he was going to try and end the
war.
On April 27, Humphrey
announced his candidacy for the Democratic nomination. From the start, he
isolated almost everyone when his announcement when he said his candidacy would
invoke: “the politics of joy.” From a nation that had undergone several years
of rioting and protesting, that earlier this same year had involved the failures
in the Tet Offensive, Johnson’s essential resignation and the assassination of
Martin Luther King earlier that month, Humphrey’s announcement was considered
tone-deaf.
It did not help that,
unlike Eugene McCarthy and Robert Kennedy, Humphrey chose not to compete in the
primaries. Instead, he chose to get his delegates from the party elders and power
brokers that had made Presidential nominees since time began. This outraged the
voters in the base, but it was a successful strategy.
On the night of the
California Primary, Humphrey noted Eugene McCarthy’s loss as negating him as a
contender for the nomination. Robert Kennedy was going to be a problem, but
Humphrey thought he could deal with it in the floor fight. It should be noted
that even as the Kennedy campaign celebrated its victory that night, there was
an awareness that within a matter of days at most, Humphrey would clinch the
nomination.
Muriel Humphrey would
later say that the bullet that killed Robert Kennedy wounded Hubert, and it was
true. Humphrey most likely would have won the nomination anyway, but he needed
to battle it out on the convention floor with Bobby in order to make his victory
legitimate. Kennedy’s death essentially
took all the steam out of the anti-war side of the platform. Eugene McCarthy
would win the New York primary basically unopposed, but he had no taste for the
fight and essentially barely participated in the convention ahead.
The rioting in the streets
outside Chicago were nearly as tumultuous as the battles on the floor. Humphrey
knew the only chance he had for the White House was to essentially make a break
from Lyndon Johnson’s policy. But while Johnson did not attend the convention,
he made it very clear that any deviation from his policy would not be met with
any support from his administration. I fundamentally believe Johnson seemed
more determine to protect his legacy in Vietnam rather than let someone who
opposed his policies enter the White House the next January. That is why he was
rethinking his decision not to run in August and contacted John Connally during
the conflict asking how much support he could get and why he only refused to
appear at the convention when Richard Daley told him bluntly if he showed up in
Chicago they could not guarantee his safety.
So as the whiffs of tear
gas caused Humphrey’s eyes to water in his hotel suite, Humphrey was faced with
a problem even before he finally accepted the nomination he had sought his whole
life. He could not make a change to the
Democratic platform; he could not make a speech assailing his mentor at the
convention. “I was a victim of the convention,” he said after the election. “I
felt when we left that convention we were in an impossible situation. I could’ve
beaten the Republicans easy, but it’s difficult to take on the Republicans and
fight a guerilla war in your own party at the same time.”
If Robert Kennedy had not
been killed, one wonders if Humphrey could have solved many of his problems by
naming his Vice-President. The anti-war
protestors and the peace wing of the party would have been willing to support
the ticket more easily had Kennedy been on the ticket, and some in his
entourage thought even before the primary he might have accepted it. “Bobby’s a
Roman; he’ll go where the power is.” Ted Sorensen said in May.
Instead, his choices came
down to three men: Senator Fred Harris of Oklahoma, then only thirty-seven and
a vehement critic of the War, Cyrus Vance, the Deputy Secretary of State and
Edmund Muskie of Maine, solid, sound and middle of the road. He chose Muskie, who would end up being a huge benefit to the ticket, not only in
comparison to his rivals Spiro Agnew and Curtis LeMay, but in how well he
managed to campaign and deal with protestors on the trail.
However, in his acceptance
speech in the midst of cheering the great leaders of the Democrats in the past,
he ended his speech with Lyndon’s name and was greeting with loud boos.
And when the acceptance
speech was over, the police who had behaved horribly on the streets of Chicago,
began to beat and abuse several McCarthy acolytes. Humphrey was asleep at the time and when
McCarthy learned of this he more or less broke from the Democrats during that
episode. McCarthy essentially refused to campaign or even make commentary
during the fall campaign: he actually spent several weeks writing an article for
Sports Illustrated on the Cardinals-Tigers World Series. The McCarthy bloc had at
best been lukewarm for Humphrey before the convention; after it, a large number
never returned the fold.
If anything, things got
worse for Humphrey in the initial weeks of his campaign. He made speeches to sparse
crowds, made gaffes that the Johnson administration constantly repudiated, and
protestors screamed and called him a sell-out everywhere he went. The fact that
the convention had been scheduled in August (mainly because the year before
Johnson had wanted to accept renomination for the Presidency on his birthday!)
gave the campaign no breathing space, no advance men and no money. Worse he
could not attack his own administration or defend the issue before a divided
electorate and Democratic party. It did not help that by mid-September, third-party candidate had reached 21 % in the polls,
only seven percent below Humphrey.
Humphrey began to turn
things around on September 30th when he made a nationwide speech televised
from Salt Lake City. For the first time in his campaign, he signaled a desire
to end the bombing and to negotiate. Slowly but surely students began to stop
heckling and argue for him. Money began to roll in and the McCarthy campaign was
willing to endorse him.
Things began to turn
around as he reduced Nixon’s lead in the polls from fifteen points in mid-September
to eight by mid-October. Furthermore, the Wallace campaign percentage began to
drop from 21 percent to 13 by mid-October.
Then on the last week of
the campaign two events occurred, one that seemed to signal an end to conflict,
and one that was clearly a violation. On October 26th it began to
leak that the end of the war was imminent. On October 31st LBJ
announced on TV an American cease-fire. But on November 1st, Saigon announced that it opposed Paris talks
which made it look like Johnson was trying to end the war for Humphrey.
It is now a matter of
public record that an ally of Nixon Anna Chan Chennault, acting under the influence
of Haldeman and Ehrlichman , had helped use her influence to mobilize Saigon to
oppose the agreement with the understanding that they would get better terms from
a Nixon administration than a Humphrey one.
It is not until fairly
recently that we learned that LBJ had audio-recordings of this event but chose
not to share them with Humphrey at the time nor make them public. He told
attorney general Ramsey Clark that after all the conflict that had surrounding
this year, he did not want to accuse a Republican candidate for President of
what was basically treason for the good of the country. I admit that is
possible and if it is true, Johnson may
have acted in the best interests of the nation.
However, part of me also
knows that at the end of the day, Johnson had doubts about Humphrey and had expressed
doubts to men such as Clark Clifford about his ability to carry on the policy
towards Vietnam. He thought Nixon was closer to him on more issues than Humphrey
was, particularly the war. I also know many Southern Democrats had doubts about
Humphrey, such as men like Richard Russell. Did Johnson do what he thought was
best for the country or what he thought was best for his own legacy? We’ll
never know for certain. All we know was the final result.
On November 5, 1968, America
voted for President. It was another long night for the country and it was not
until the wee hours of the morning that the networks called the election for
him. As I mentioned in an earlier article, it was another close one: less than
one percent of the popular vote, nearly half a million out of 73 million votes
cast. But it looked far worse electorally for Humphrey: he only received 191 electoral
votes while Nixon received 301. Wallace took 46. Furthermore, the South, which
had been Democratic for more than a century had been divided up by Nixon and
Wallace; the only Southern state Humphrey carried was Texas.
Humphrey was
understandably heartbroken by his defeat. For all the disarray in his party he
had assumed that voters would unite to defeat the much loathed Richard Nixon. But
considering that through much of the campaign Humphrey had been unable to
deviate sufficiently from Johnson’s platform, there is an excellent possibility
that many voters chose to stay home or vote the Democratic ticket and not for
Humphrey. The election did not produce a mandate for Nixon in Congress: the
Republicans gained five seats in the House and five seats in the Senate, nowhere
near enough to erase the Democrats formidable majority in both houses of
Congress. (Richard Nixon became the first President in 120 years to enter
office with the opposition party in control of both houses of Congress; he is
one of three Presidents in the 20th Century to never have a Congress
controlled by his party.) Still Humphrey’s defeat was a blow to his soul,
perhaps because he expected his political life was over.
It wasn’t. In the final
entry in this series, I will deal with Humphrey’s return to both the Senate and
Presidential politics.
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