LOVERS, TOO, CAN NOW LOVE JOHNSON
The team of photographers assigned to the White House, which includes some of the top men in the field, long ago listed Johnson as their "least liked" president. He isn't photogenic like Kennedy, doesn't have a rubber face like Eisenhower, and isn't amiable like Truman. Moreover, he puts such restrictions on them that they can do little to work up the raw stuff into something palatable. The result -- up to recently -- was no great photograph of Johnson.
Two "memorable" photographs were all that could be listed: "Old Scarbelly," the one showing Johnson exhibiting the scar of his gall bladder operation; and "Old Dog Lover," the candid shot of him hoisting his pet beagle by the ears.
While "Old Scarbelly" may have
endeared Johnson to people who have
had operations -- and there are quite a
few of those in the United States --
"Old Dog Lover" was a disaster. It
brought all kinds of indignant letters
from dog owners and be-kind-to-animal
types.
All this has now been remedied.
Whoever has been working Johnson over,
remodeling his image, hasn't forgotten
the voters who own dogs. (There were
804,400 dogs registered as to breed in
the U.S. in 1966 and an incredible nun-
ber that managed to evade the census
takers.)
First of all, that patrician-
looking beagle was ousted from No. 1 position in the kennels. A very plebian mongrel was given the post. It was trained to be responsive to the president and began to be included in photographs of the president.
All this attention to the problem finally paid off with a great photograph. It must have been a memorable session. Johnson, playing with his pooch, was conmpletely relaxed and oblivious to the world, to the delight of the cameraman and the group of laughing admirers who watched the president put on the act.
The extraordinary photograph, together with others like it, was reproduced in the February 20 issue of Look magazine (from which we lifted it).
Look also provided an accompanying "text" by William Hedgepeth, giving all the facts about the "New top dog at the White House." This admirable bit of prose, which at times reaches a poetic level, will undoubtedly do much to help establish the new image of Johnson as a real human being, a simple, lovable guy, after all, who finds that man's best friend is a dog. To help in this laudable work of image creation, we are providing the full text as follows:
"First, the grayish-haired one rares back his head and goes, ‘aroof, arwuf, arwuf.' Next, picking up the cue, the smaller, white-haired one cocks his head at a similar angle and answers, ‘awf, arff, arwuff.' Finally, with both voices pitched in harmony, the two unleash a single, soulfully melodic, loud 'Aroo000000000000000000000' -- that conjures up pictures of bedraggled coyotes wailing away through a hot night in the windblown Texas flatlands. Then the duet ends to the applause of whoever happens to be present in the office. Downstairs, in the meantime, some among the crowd of tourists -- who may be wondering whether the noise they've just heard was a faint air-raid alert or McKinley's ghost -- are assured by the nearest White House guard that 'No, Ma'm, it's just the President of the United States and his favorite dog howling together.' Back in the President's office, little Yuki, who is not only the new mongrel-in-chief among White House hounds but also omnipresent companion of LBJ, gobbles up a rewarding shower of candy ‘dog kisses.' The President, too, feels a certain rewarding comfort: No ‘credibility gap' or communication problem here, at least. And to any guests present President Johnson is likely to brag of his mixed-breed new lodger, 'He even speaks with a Texas accent.'
"'Yuki!l' the bellow echoes through the White House. 'YUK-EEE!' -- almost loud enough to wake up workers in the Executive Office Building next door. Then the President falls silent. So everyone knows the dog's in his office -- all's right with the world. Sure enough, there's Yuki, well-scrubbed, spry and all set to show off for a visiting flock of 6th-grade spelling-—bee champs or a roomful of African diplomats or a venerable Head of State. 'That darn mutt,' mutters one White House aide, ‘is beginning to feel his position around here. He's got no inhibitions about going up to kings or anyone.' Ubiquitous Yuki, former stray, was adopted by Luci and Pat Nugent at an Austin, Texas, service station, then readopted by LBJ last August. Since then, the furry Texan has become preeminent White House hound-in-residence -- overshadowing Freckles, Dumpling, Edgar, Little Chap and Blanco -- as well as perennial co-traveler with the President. More significantly, their private talks in the Oval Office have added to recent speculations that not only is Yuki top dog to the Chief Executive but benign counselor and confidant as well.
"What with the social, economic, military and miscellaneous problems presently facing the nation, it is reassuring at least in some circles, to know that our President counts such a politically sagacious hound-courtier as part of his official family. LBJ is sometimes said to have difficulties with the press; Yuki -- who astutely attends all of his master's news conferences -- is careful to court the favor of the White House reporters. 'The newsmen love him,' exults a press secretary. ‘They always go out of their way to pat him on the head and rub his ears just the way he likes. And photographers all say he's very cooperative and photogenic.' In addition, in his role as the President's most faithful follower, Yuki seems to have a shrewd eye toward enhancing LBJ's ‘image' in the diplomatic world. Among an officeful of foreign dignitaries, who may be influenced by adverse reports on the Chief's popular standing, Yuki will often leap into the Presidential arms in a dramatic counterdemonstration of affection. Traphes Bryant, a White House electrician who has doubled as official dog-keeper under both Kennedy and Johnson, suggests that Yuki's earlier career as a stray may possibly have included a stint as a trained carnival dog. With so many former show-biz types now getting into politics, it seems increasingly likely, therefore, that as soon as the dog once known as Hey, You! Let Go and Beat It can meet the constitutional requirements on age, his future career might well include a term or so on his own as an officeholder."
Would anybody like a fresh dog biscuit to go with that?
THE MOST