The Making of Landslide Lyndon

By Paul Gray

MEANS OF ASCENT by Robert A. Caro; Knopf; 506 pages; $24.95

Good histories bestow suspense on foregone conclusions. Such works manage to override knowledge about how things turned out; they do so by recapturing the tensions and uncertainties of the participants while the outcome was in doubt. That Lyndon Baines Johnson, for example, became the 36th President will surprise no one now. But readers of Robert Caro's Means of Ascent are in for a white-knuckle, hair-raising tale that could have ended in any of a dozen different ways, with L.B.J. in the White House the longest shot of all. This is good history, and with a vengeance.

The second installment of Caro's projected four-volume biography The Years of Lyndon Johnson focuses on a mere seven years of its subject's life, but they were crucial ones. In a 1941 election marked by redolent voting irregularities on both sides, Johnson narrowly lost his bid for the Senate. L.B.J. and his aides knew their opponent had snookered them ("He stole more votes than we did, that's all") and vowed never to be outcheated again.

But the chance to campaign again for the Senate would elude him until 1948; in the meantime he was stymied, chafing at his comparative powerlessness as a Congressman. He was also made uncomfortable by his promise to Texas voters to volunteer for combat if war was declared. After Pearl Harbor, Johnson did ask for a leave of absence from the House, but he did not dash into battle. Caro meticulously records L.B.J.'s attempts to gain desk jobs in Washington and his junkets up and down the West Coast inspecting Naval facilities. Finally, facing political humiliation, he flew to the Pacific, went along as an observer on a bombing run in New Guinea, spent a few minutes under enemy fire, and returned at once to the U.S. For this he was awarded the Silver Star.

Caro deflates for good the legend Johnson puffed up of himself as a war hero. Equally damaging are the author's investigations into the source of what would become L.B.J.'s fortune. Johnson always insisted that the purchase of Austin radio station KTBC and the lucrative empire it spawned were solely due to the good business sense of his wife Lady Bird. That, Caro proves, was not the story. Congressman Johnson pulled strings, twisted regulatory arms to obtain a better broadcast frequency and more power, and involved himself with % all aspects of the business, including pressuring advertisers and hiring announcers.

But the most riveting and explosive portion of this book deals with Johnson's 1948 campaign for the Senate. The favorite was Coke Stevenson, "by far the most popular Governor in the history of Texas, a public official, moreover, who had risen above politics to become a legend." As if beating "Mr. Texas" was not burden enough, L.B.J. developed a kidney stone. Daily he made speeches and shook hands and then collapsed in a car in agony. Eventually the stone was removed, and he was off again, against the advice of doctors. The suffering paid off: in the primary runoff, it was Stevenson vs. Johnson.

Caro's treatment of this battle achieves poetic intensity. Stevenson ran the way he always had, driving into small towns, talking and listening to those who happened to gather. Johnson ran for his life, leapfrogging about in a helicopter (the "Flying Windmill"), blanketing the state with radio ads around the clock and throwing money everywhere. Despite all these frenzied efforts, initial returns showed Stevenson the winner. But L.B.J.'s campaign had not ended. Caro demonstrates how the Johnson organization, with the knowledge of the candidate, proceeded to steal the election. Late reports from southern counties in L.B.J.'s pocket continued to filter in, giving Johnson near unanimous tallies. Days later the disputed result was complete. Out of 988,295 votes cast, Johnson had won by 87.

Thus was born the nickname -- Landslide Lyndon -- that even Johnson relished when he returned to Washington as a Senator. Surely such a tarnished human -- this Shakespearean assemblage of grand ideals, ambitions and flaws -- could not continue to thrive in the open air of democracy? That question must wait until Robert Caro tells what happened next.