Having won the 1964 election against Republican candidate Barry Goldwater with 61.1 percent of the popular vote, Lyndon Johnson finally felt validated. He hadn’t just inherited the presidency; now he had earned it. It was the largest popular referendum since 1820, and in fact no president since Johnson has won with a larger majority. Not only had he nurtured America through the dark aftermath of the assassination of JFK, but he had moved forward like a steam train, passing numerous bills to protect the environment and improve everyday life for all Americans, most notably using his unrivaled knowledge of the democratic system and powers of persuasion to pass the sweeping Civil Rights Act of 1964. And now he had four more years ahead of him to make even bigger changes.
Although Lyndon Johnson was the third president I had served, this would be my first time participating in a Presidential Inauguration and I felt privileged to be a part of it. Coming on the heels of the assassination, however, the 1965 Inauguration was the single biggest security challenge the Secret Service had ever faced, and planning had been under way for months. The two-mile stretch between the Capitol and the White House was checked and rechecked multiple times, with every building on Constitution and Pennsylvania Avenues inspected and every window along the route ordered to be closed. Manhole covers were sealed, agents would be flying in helicopters overhead, and for the first time a three-sided barrier of bulletproof glass was installed around the podium where Johnson and his vice president, Hubert Humphrey, would take their oaths.
There was an inch of snow on the ground the morning of January 20, under cloudy skies with temperatures in the 30s, but despite the frigid air, 1.2 million people had come to witness the historic event—the largest crowd ever for an Inauguration.
At 12:03 p.m. President Lyndon Baines Johnson stood in front of the podium on the East Portico of the Capitol, with Mrs. Johnson close by his side, and solemnly swore to faithfully execute the office of the President of the United States, and, to the best of his abilities, to preserve, protect, and defend the Constitution of the United States. So help me, God.
The audience in the Capitol plaza rose to its feet, clapping in the cold, and as I scanned the crowd, I couldn’t help but think what a starkly different scene it was from the last time I had heard Lyndon Johnson utter those same words, in the sweltering cabin of Air Force One, with Mrs. Kennedy still in a state of shock, still covered in her husband’s blood, standing nobly by his side. So help me, God.
After a twenty-two-minute Inaugural Address, there was a luncheon in the Capitol, followed by the Inaugural Parade. Four years earlier, President and Mrs. Kennedy had ridden the entire length of the parade in an open-top car as a million spectators waved and cheered. Now, for the first time in America’s history, the president was relegated to riding in an enclosed vehicle, and although it may be hard to believe, the car in which President Johnson rode through the streets of Washington, D.C., on January 20, 1965, was the same car in which his predecessor had been assassinated.
After being transported from Dallas back to Washington in a C-130, guarded continuously by Secret Service agents, SS-100-X had been scrupulously inspected for evidence and then sent back to the Hess & Eisenhardt facility in Cincinnati to be refurbished. Because the Secret Service had a lack of vehicles, and because it would have taken two or three years to design and build a brand-new car—at a much higher cost—the decision was made to take what we had and improve it. A nonremovable roof made of bulletproof glass was installed, along with titanium plating in the trunk and around the backseat area; the floor was reconstructed of steel to withstand a grenade attack; and all the windows were replaced with thick bulletproof glass. The additional weight required a new and more powerful engine, and an additional air-conditioning unit was installed to compensate for the greenhouse effect of all the thick glass. Finally, at President Johnson’s request, the exterior paint color was changed from midnight-blue to black. The refurbished car had been put back into use in May 1964, but because I had been with Mrs. Kennedy up until November, this Inaugural Parade was the first time I had worked a motorcade with the car since that day in Dallas.
The sun had broken through the clouds as the procession began shortly after two o’clock in the afternoon, with a phalanx of police motorcycles leading the way from the Capitol down Pennsylvania Avenue. President Johnson waved and smiled at the cheering crowd from behind the bulletproof window in the rear seat of the shiny black Lincoln limousine.
Overshadowing the president, however, was the intimidating entourage of Secret Service agents—some armed with assault rifles—strategically positioned like a small militia around and behind the presidential vehicle. Agent Bill Greer was driving, with Special Agent in Charge Rufus Youngblood in the front passenger seat, while six agents conspicuously surrounded the car. Two agents stood like hawks on the platform on the back, two others walked in line with the front bumper, another agent walked on the right rear side next to President Johnson, and then there was me. By sheer coincidence or cruel irony, I had been assigned to the left rear of the car, next to the first lady.
I walked the entire two-mile route alongside the car—which at least kept the blood flowing, because it was cold—and while I wore a glove on my left hand for warmth, I kept my right hand—my shooting hand—gloveless in case I suddenly needed to grab for my gun.
Shortly after the parade began, there was a lull, slowing the car almost to a complete stop, and the president spotted several band majorettes from Southwest Texas State College, his alma mater. I could hardly believe my eyes when the president opened the rear door, got out, and strode over to the young ladies to shake their hands.
We could have a foolproof security plan, but when the president himself chose to disregard it, all bets were off. Several of us rushed to surround him, urging him to get back into the car. Fortunately, he did as we asked and remained in the car for the rest of the parade.
That evening, the president and Mrs. Johnson attended all five of the Inaugural Balls. At each one LBJ made a short speech of gratitude, had a first dance with Lady Bird—who glowed adoringly at her husband all night long—and then proceeded to waltz around the room in the arms of numerous other women.
The Inauguration on January 20, 1965, was LBJ’s moment to shine, and he bathed in every drop of the glory. I don’t think he could have possibly fathomed what the future had in store for him, and how he would be tested like few presidents had ever been tested before.