Finger Dexterity

The telephone atop Washington's airport control tower jangled, and a Texas drawl exhorted, "Damn it, I've got a Senator up there somewhere on Northwest's Flight 300. He's two hours overdue and I want him down quick. He's got to vote. You better be awful sure he's not stacked up there." Minutes after Senate Democratic Leader Lyndon Johnson's telephone call one afternoon last week, Minnesota's airbound Senator Hubert Humphrey landed and was whisked across the Potomac in a Capitol police squad car, sirens ayowl. He arrived on the Senate floor, just in time to vote nay on the key Capehart amendment to the public-housing bill. That he did--although by then Johnson no longer needed the vote--was the result and symbol of Johnson's driving, meticulous leadership. Last week his leadership won the year's sternest test.

Whirl & Wheedle. Before that, some Northern Democrats, suspecting Johnson of losing interest in liberal legislation, had begun to fume. He seemed overattentive, they thought, to procedural efficiency, party unity, the friendship of fellow Southerners and the ambitions of Lyndon Johnson. When the Democrat-controlled Senate Banking and Currency Committee threw out the Eisenhower Administration's plan to build 35,000 public-housing units a year for two years and substituted a high-spending four-year program of roughly 100,000 units a year, the question arose: Would Leader Johnson perform his nimble best to get it through the Senate? He would and he did. With a flick of his thumb, Johnson signaled to presiding senators whom to recognize--speakers who would not antagonize Southerners or be trapped by Republicans. A twirl of Johnson's lifted forefinger, the airman's signal to rev up, means speed on the Senate floor. A whisper from Lyndon during roll call, and the clerk shifts into a slow, minor key. Sometimes it takes an expert to tell whether the Senate is rushing or loitering. But even Indiana Republican Homer Capehart, no expert, spotted Johnson's delay last week during the wait for Humphrey, and gruffly declared that it bothered him.

Homer's concern was forgivable: he had predicted an eight-vote triumph for his amendment to restore the Administration's 35,000-unit program, and had laughed, "Lyndon, this time I'm going to rub your nose in it." Now Lyndon was busily wheedling more votes, and gaining time to do it in the name of senatorial courtesy, i.e., fairness to Humphrey.

Cash & Carry. To postpone the Capehart vote, Johnson squeezed in two amendments dear to the Connecticut constituents of Republican Prescott Bush. Result: not only more time, but Bush's vote in the showdown. By accepting Republican Ralph Flanders' proposal to link the rate of housing starts to fluctuations in general business activity, Johnson won Flanders' vote. Then he cashed in lOUs with two other G.O.P. Senators, getting them to offset two of Johnson's absent Democrats by not voting themselves.

In the end only six Democrats, all Southerners, went over to Capehart's side. They were more than matched by the nine Republicans whom Johnson coaxed into his own column, most of them from the slum-troubled East.

After Capehart's nose was rubbed, 38 to 44, the Democratic bill glided safely to a 60-to-25 decision, and a grateful Hubert Humphrey jumped to his feet to praise Johnson. Said Hubert: "His talents, his personality and the strength of his character are dedicated toward making the legislative process work." Added IIllinois' Paul Douglas: "Extraordinary political virtuosity."

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