Virginia to handle “political advance.” Following Underwood’s instructions by phone, I met with the Army Corps of Engineers colonel in charge of the Huntington office who tersely said he was leaving on vacation but that I had full use of his office, his staff, his government car and his private driver. I had four days to orchestra an upbeat event that Underwood said should—at least--include two bands and about 500 adoring, cheering fans to greet LBJ’s arrival. Small order?
First I quickly learned, there only were a couple hundred parking places at the airport.
Second, I learned that the time of arrival conflicted with homecoming at Marshall University and that the traditional football game would be in progress in town when the presidential plane arrived.
Third, I discovered that all of the West Virginia area high school and the college’s marching bands would be playing and performing at the football game.
And, Underwood reminded me, because this was a classified movement, LBJ’s arrival could not be announced or reported. Therefore, the football team, the performing bands and Marshall U. fans wouldn’t know what they were missing. I figured the drama would be Joe Carter falling on his Red Fork face.
To add to the pressure, Underwood then dispatched a bundle of poster boards already hand lettered with scribbled messages such as “Welcome Mr. President.” It remains a mystery to me how Underwood managed to produce the placards. I knew coldly it was my job to find hands to wave those placards when LBJ stepped down from the airplane while multiple bands played “Hail to the Chief.”
On that cool day in October, I ventured into the local Congressman’s field office. Damn the dangers of breaking the “top secret” code. The local aide was politically savvy, affable and offered full cooperation and understanding. He knew the territory and was delighted by the president’s visit. He sprung into action.
First, he advised me that the Women’s Job Corps Center nearby housed large numbers of ladies who would welcome any outing.
Second, since the job corps had buses to transport the women to the airport, parking would be no problem.
Third, he telephoned across the Ohio River and into Kentucky and found a band leader whose high school musicians were not playing at Marshall’s homecoming. Moreover, it turned out that the school teacher whose name now eludes me, was a rabid Democrat and was delighted that his band would play for President Johnson.
“Teach them ‘Hail To the Chief,’” I humbly requested. “And could half of the band wear the school’s bank uniforms while the other half shows up in their regular street dudes? ”
“No problem,” he replied.
Two bands; a herd of happy giggling women and plenty of parking lot space! Advancing for the president was a snap. As the arrival time neared, the band was split apart and the teacher directed the music from the middle. For “security,” ropes cordoned off a tight area for the welcoming mob—bunched together to appear more numerous.
Then, expectedly and I’ll swear I did not violate my secrecy instructions, an enterprising reporter somehow learned about the visit and wrote a story for the local newspaper That prompted unscheduled visitors who simply wished to witness a president more than a football game.
Signs were waving and loud cheers roared. In quality that the fabled U. S. Marine Corps band would envy, the “two” Ashland High School bands in total harmony played “Hail to the Chief” without a missed note. Music to my ears.
Smiling broadly, LBJ stepped onto the tarmac and strolled into the crowd. Not one sign of protest or anger! Instead, LBJ merged with the crowd, shook hands and thanked guests while the White House press corps members watched in awe asking “where are the protesters?” Timing cut short the inquiry and they hurried to a second helicopter to follow the president’s chopper into Kentucky.
I was in disbelief. Joyous Job Corps women and the high school band members departed along with scattered onlookers. I retrenched to the waiting room for the next assignment of handling the returning President and newsmen simply and quickly. Without ceremony or fanfare they were slated to conclude the dam dedication, climb aboard their two helicopters and fly back to the fixed wing planes at Huntington to continue their Saturday afternoon sojourn. It turned out not that simple.
Upon arrival in Congressman Perkins’s district, the media helicopter lost power as it hovered to land and slammed into the ground. All were jarred and the newsmen were outraged. None was injured. Following the dedication, the presidential entourage departed for Huntington then the president’s helicopter zoomed back to the dam site to retrieve the angry newsmen since flying the media helicopter on the return to Huntington simply seemed too risky.
Finally, both the pleased President Johnson and jarred White House Press Corps had departed and I found coffee in the airport café. Across the waiting room, I watched as the man in charge of the two helicopters walked my direction. Suddenly, he collapsed. An ambulance responded and later, I was told, he died. It was a tragic loss of a very good team member.
Quietly the advance teams left West Virginia on commercial flights to Washington unheralded, alive and grateful that the President was warmly received.
Nationally, the debate and anger about the war in Vietnam swelled. From my perch, the war was the critical factor in Richard Nixon’s narrow defeat of Hubert H. Humphrey.
Advent of a Republican administration meant that I needed to find different employment. From November into December, I pondered my choices. I could return to my Oklahoma newspaper job or find a new life in Washington. The question was answered when White House congressional liaison man Barefoot Sanders mentioned my name to one of Lady Bird Johnson’s most staunch allies in Congress, Representative Julia Butler Hansen, Democrat of Washington. She was the powerful chair of the appropriations subcommittee for the Department of Interior and related agencies. Hansen had seen that ample money had been made available for Lady Bird’s efforts to beautify America.
A political veteran with uncanny political savvy and legislative prowess, Julia Butler Hansen, the daughter of a frontier sheriff, became my boss, my mentor and my fast friend for life. Julia was a jewel. Following a brief interview with her top aide, Roy Carlson, who asked “do you object to a martini at lunch?” I was hired as Congresswoman Hansen’s research, legislative and writing assistant and would work on Capitol Hill. Julia, Roy and Joe Carter of Red Fork, Oklahoma often would join for Beefeater martinis at the regal Monocle Restaurant or the National Democratic Club. The cocktails were ample rewards for the incredibly complex and meaningful work that we performed both in appropriations and in rewriting rules of the U. S. House of Representatives.
With new daughter Valerie, the Carter family of Beverly, Joey and Russell settled in a North Virginia apartment just in time for the final Johnson White House Christmas party.
While informing my colleagues about the new job, I especially talked with Gwen King, secretary to Whit Shoemaker, who previously had been President Kennedy’s number two secretary. Without hesitation, Mrs. King turned to her typewriter and quickly produced a letter-perfect formal resignation letter to President Johnson and ordered me to sign.
LBJ wrote back promptly, warmly and with thanks for my service. So did Lady Bird. I didn’t draft either reply.
About the Author
An erstwhile newsman and published biographer of humorist Will Rogers, Joseph H. Carter Sr., served as a White House aide of two presidents and on the staffs of members of Congress.
Carter is author of twin 2013 memoirs I Heard JFK’s Death Shots: A Reporter’s Look Back at President John F. Kennedy’s 1963 Assassination 50 Years Later and The Unique Challenges of Writing for LBJ: A Memoir by a former newsman on the final months of President Lyndon B. Johnson’s White House years.
A United Press International correspondent on the press bus covering President John F. Kennedy’s 1963 campaign swing into Dallas, Carter was directly below the Texas School Box Depository window where he he
ard the three assassination shots.
Five years later, Carter was tapped as a speech writer and political advance man for President Johnson where he joined diplomatic missions to Central American countries and to the July, 1968 Honolulu summit on Vietnam between Presidents Johnson and Thieu.
Two of Carter’s earlier books are available on Amazon.com and at all quality book stories in the United States and in many outlets abroad.
While director of Oklahoma’s Will Rogers Memorial Commission, Carter authored the Gibbs-Smith 2006 book The Quotable Will Rogers; the 1991 HarperCollins (Avon) biography Never Met A Man I Didn’t Like: The Life and Writing of Will Rogers; Terrell Publishing’s Will Rogers: A Pictorial Tribute to an American Legend and wrote the text of Archivist Pat Lowe’s official bibliography and genealogy book published by Will Rogers Heritage, Inc..
Carter edited and contributed to other books and wrote magazine articles. He launched the successful five-volume Papers of Will Rogers published by the University of Oklahoma Press. As a free-lance writer, he was author of a three-part, award-winning series in American Cowboy magazine during 2006 and wrote a cover story for Route 66 magazine.
Carter was credited in