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Last week at the LBJ Ranch, along the Pedernales River in central Texas, Johnson was enjoying the fruits of a job well done. On his antique desk (a gift from his staff) lay the evidences of his whirlwind activity, e.g., a White House-State Department request that he represent the U.S. in United Nations discussions on space problems, an urgent request that he attend the inauguration on Dec. 1 of Mexico's President-elect Adolfo Lopez Mateos. The three beige telephones on the desk rang constantly. One call came from a newly elected Western Senator thanking Johnson for campaign help. "Thank you. Senator," replied Johnson, "you're very kind. I'd like very much for you to come down here, come down to the ranch. We'll talk about what committee assignments would be best for you and anything else you want to bring up. Bring your wife."
Hanging up, Johnson turned to a visitor. How did he see Democratic presidential prospects shaping up? "We've got a lot of good men," said Lyndon Johnson. "I know only one thing: it's not going to be me." He was even able to talk paternalistically about other Democratic presidential possibilities in the Senate. "You know," he confided, "I feel sort of like a father to these boys. A father loves his sons, though one son may drink a little too much, another may neck with the girls a little too much. A good father uses a gentle but firm rein, checks his sons, guides them and. above all. understands them." Lyndon Johnson's best chance is that the Democratic Party in 1960, having considered all the boys and found them wanting, might turn to the Democratic daddy himself.
In the Wings
Thus, just after the elections of 1958, the Democratic Party finds itself in the pleasant position of having at least half a dozen good Men Who. But The Man Who might also be Two-Time Loser Adlai Stevenson, with ardent disciples spotted across the U.S. and feared by more active hopefuls as a strong deadlock possibility. The Man Who could be Soapy Williams, who, despite his 1958 setback, has an organization aborning and appears ready to make a now-or-never try. It could be Estes Kefauver, even though he suffered almost irreparable damage by failing to live up to his vote-getting reputation as the vice-presidential nominee in 1956. It could be one of the 21 other Northern and Border State Democratic Governors.
Indeed, in the wild scramble for the precious Democratic nomination in 1960, The Man Who could be almost anybody except Dick Nixon. And as the days pass and the tension grows, the candidates themselves will be moving to the front and hurling themselves into active battle. When that happens, the U.S. voter is in for a wonderfully exciting time—if his eardrums hold out. And at that delirious moment when the hush falls on Convention Hall, and Sam Rayburn introduces the NEXT PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA, the Democrats can only hope that someone has survived to come marching out to accept the nomination.