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When he became Lyndon Johnson's Vice President, the Oval Office was only a step—and a heartbeat—away. But Johnson made immediately clear what their relationship would be: master and vassal. Shortly after the 1964 convention that nominated them, L.B.J. drove Humphrey around his Texas ranch. Spotting a deer, Johnson shouted: "Hubert, there's one for you. Get it!" The very thought of shooting a living creature repelled him, but Humphrey obeyed. Then, as he tells it: "I turned to Johnson with a mixture of satisfaction at having done so well what he wanted and revulsion at having killed the deer." It was a fateful response. To make certain the lesson and its symbolism had been learned, the President told the Vice President to fire again. He did. Humphrey relates the incident as a plea for understanding of what he was up against in the overbearing Johnson. But it reveals far more about Hubert Humphrey than about Lyndon Johnson.
Mentor and Tormentor. Once set, the pattern hardened. As early as 1965 —two years before Eugene McCarthy broke with Johnson over the Viet Nam War—Humphrey produced a prophetic memorandum urging the President to cut his losses and get out. As a result, Humphrey was banished from White House councils. But instead of pressing his case, he again found exclusion more than he could bear. He became a vocal defender of the war.
By 1968, Viet Nam had divided the country and destroyed Johnson. Still, Humphrey clung to his mentor—and tormentor. Even in seeking the presidency on his own, he could not cut the cord. Fearful that a public attack by Johnson would destroy him with old-line Democrats and ensure his defeat, Humphrey failed to point the country toward a direction he knew it should go. Only late in his campaign did he step gingerly away from Johnson; when he did, his campaign surged. But it was too late.
"I was ready," Humphrey mourns. "I'd really trained for the presidency. I know government ... We could have done so much good." In this judgment there is no reason to doubt him. The education of the consummate public man was indeed very nearly complete. But one lesson remained unlearned, and it is far from clear in Humphrey's auto biography whether he has learned it even yet.
Hays Gorey