A Riot in the White House

"It's going to be a long, hot summer with rioting in the East Wing," groaned Elizabeth Carpenter as she looked forlornly forward to Luci Baines Johnson's August wedding. As Lady Bird's press secretary, Liz has cause to worry. All the world's journalists, from the Australian Consolidated Press to an editor of the student paper at Davis and Elkins College in West Virginia, want to come to the affair. Turning most of them down is tough enough; saying no to assorted requests from reporters who have been invited is honing her tongue. How about telephones in the church pews? Liz was asked. "It's strictly on your knees, girls, for 90 minutes," she snapped back. Last week she gave out details on the bridesmaids' dresses--with the warning that anyone who jumped the release date would be banned from the wedding: "A large guillotine will be erected on the South Lawn for minor offenders." First head to roll was that of Women's Wear Daily, which printed a complete sketch of one of the dresses on its front page three days before release date. An irate Liz immediately bumped the publication from the wedding list.

Happy in the Bath. For all the problems, chances are good that Liz will survive. She has pulled through several others. When the First Lady made her whistle-stop tour of the South in the 1964 presidential campaign, Liz kept overworked, underfed reporters happy with a steady flow of banter and favors. Taking note of their sweaty condition, she announced: "On the theory that the press that bathes together stays together, we have reserved three rooms, baths, and showers and 150 towels at the Duval Hotel in Tallahassee tonight." To reporters who missed the train, she offered a tip, "In case you do get left, look for the advance man. See if he can work out your transportation to a nearby town. If he can't, just take out residence, register and vote."

Liz also masterminded Lady Bird's raft ride down the Rio Grande last spring. She persuaded park rangers to abandon their headquarters so that it could serve as a pressroom. She checked the river to make sure that there was enough water for rafting, placed privies at strategic sand bars along the route. For the benefit of anxious photographers, she launched the expedition under a full moon. And she exhorted the reporters: "The management of this trip is not responsible if these elaborate procedures fail to work. In that case, don't blame us. Just put the copy in a bottle and float it down the Rio Grande. Some day, somebody may come upon it and give you a Pulitzer Prize."

Expert on Dogs. Even when she is not arranging some adventure for her boss, Liz runs a swinging shop at the White House. A newspaperwoman from Texas, whose husband Les is also a journalist, she enjoys a certain license because she has been a friend of the Johnsons ever since she met Lady Bird in Washington in 1942; she has worked for the family in various capacities since 1960. Stocky and greying at 45, she is renowned for a caustic and occasionally bawdy wit. Above all, she is irreverent about her job. "While Bill Moyers worries about Viet Nam and De Gaulle," she once quipped, "I give my best to dogs, daughters and delphinium." How did Liz know so much about canines, a reporter wanted to know. "Because I'm in the doghouse here most of the time," she answered. Sassing the President is what sometimes puts her there. Sample: L.B.J., bellowing: "Why don't you use your head?" Liz bellowing back: "I'm too busy using yours."

When people are not laughing hard enough in Washington, Liz goes elsewhere for chuckles. Addressing the New York chapter of the Public Relations Society of America last spring, she startled her audience with a salvo of jokes. She offered a solution to New York's water shortage: "Take a shower with a friend." As for the President's beagles: "They had nothing to do with Mrs. Johnson's tree-planting activity. That is self-liquidating." As for her audience: "I've always loved public relations men in general. Of course, I've loved a few generals too--but then, that's the subject of another speech."

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