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Bothered Brethren. To many Washingtonians, Moyers is one of the squarest guys in town. Because of his Baptist credentials, his cottage-cheese complexion and Sunday-school propriety, he is likely to have trouble shedding the Eagle Scout image. Yet, insists Dr. DeWitt Reddick. director of the University of Texas Journalism School, where Moyers was a straight-A student: "There's nothing sanctimonious about him." And, press critics to the contrary, he was never a Boy Scout.
In fact, Moyers' emancipated ways have landed him in deep trouble with the fundamentalists back home. He smokes half-a-dozen long, thin, 25¢ Fiesta Brazil cigars every day; he even took to sipping a few watered-down bourbons each week. As a result, he has received quite a few "Brother Moyers" letters from hard-shell Baptists who have heard evil rumors of his dissolute ways. Only recently, he decided to give up drinking altogether—not only because of the furor but also to please his stern-principled parents. It was just as well, for he only recently brought a peptic ulcer under control. To keep it so, he quaffs quarts of milk and Coca-Cola, consumes cups of bouillon at midmorning and midafternoon, takes a couple of Pro-Banthine pills daily.
Three Crises. A couple of years ago, Lyndon Johnson said that Moyers was "about the most unusual 29-year-old I ever saw." In the intervening period he has lived up to that billing in three major presidential crises, performing superbly each time. After the first, the assassination, one of Johnson's initial acts was to install Moyers in the space nearest the oval office. "He's the man to see now," said a Kennedy staffer. "Not us." The second emergency erupted three weeks before the election, with Jenkins' arrest and hurried resignation. Stunned as he was, the President did not have to think twice before naming Moyers his top aide.
Crisis three unfolded last July, when amiable, bumbling Press Secretary George Reedy left the job for an operation on his feet. Johnson's relations with the press had never been worse. Once more he turned to Moyers. "I think you're the man who should do it," said he. "I don't think I can do it," replied Moyers.
L.B.J.: "Well, I want you to do it."
Moyers (Pause): "Yes, sir. Let's try it."
Latter-Day Boswell. As Press Secretary, Moyers has provided a gusher of information where once there had been an erratic trickle. Some reporters have even complained that there was far too much, particularly after a weekend at the LBJ Ranch, when Moyers deluged them with 40-odd handouts hymning Administration triumphs ranging from a campaign to reduce wasted space in post offices to a wildlife preserve in Maryland. Moyers totally lacks the histrionic instincts of a Pierre Salinger, the avuncular authority of a Jim Hagerty. But after only 3½ months on the job, he is widely rated as the best White House Press Secretary in memory.