The Silent Treatment

Now and again, in a moment of exasperation, one of Lyndon Johnson's aides used to remark that the President was "more." No matter what he did, said the aide, the President would do it "more" than anybody else. When he was angry, everyone in the White House knew it. When he was charming, the birds would plummet from the trees. When he was rude or boorish, hardly anyone could be ruder or more boorish. And so, in recent weeks, after Johnson decided to be remote and aloof, it is not surprising that he has been more remote and aloof than just about any other President since Calvin Coolidge.

Indeed, except for those public appearances demanded by duty and protocol, Johnson has been almost invisible behind the gates of 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue. His comings and goings and those of his assistants and guests have been as secret as the combinations to the vaults of Fort Knox. Only the cheery hello from Russell Long, Senate Majority whip, as he emerged from the grounds, alerted reporters to the fact that there must have been (as, in fact, there was) a breakfast for the congressional leadership last week. Only the sharp eyes of a visitor told them, on another occasion, that Mike Mansfield and Everett Dirksen had been conferring with the President.

When the President's limousine was spotted purring out of the gate one night, there was a suspicion that the owner was going out on the town--but nobody was sure. The car was later seen in Georgetown, and it was assumed that he had had dinner there. Again, nobody knew for sure. Betty Beale, the Washington Star's society columnist, had a real scoop when she disclosed, almost three weeks later, that the Johnsons had attended a dinner at the Averell Harrimans'--and that every-one had had a fine time. The Johnsons' place cards had been filled in with the names of the Nicaraguan ambassador, Guillermo Sevilla-Sacasa, and his wife, so that no one would know the President was coming until he arrived.

The new silence--which no Lyndon-ologist expects to last for long--may annoy the White House press corps, but there is no evidence that it annoys the country. In fact, it may prove to be just the right medicine for the President's sagging popularity. Last week's Harris poll showed that Johnson's margin-- 56% to 44%--had neatly reversed Senator Robert Kennedy's embarrassing lead of last fall in the popularity ratings.

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