1476794138 (N) by Clint Hill & Lisa McCubbin

Author:Clint Hill & Lisa McCubbin
Language: eng
Format: mobi, azw3
Publisher: Gallery Books
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

EARLIER IN THE day, Youngblood informed me that President Johnson was considering an intensive campaign trip when he returned to the United States to support Democratic candidates in the upcoming 1966 midterm election. He wanted to visit a number of cities in a variety of states before Election Day, November 8, and an advance team headed up by Special Assistant to the President Sherwin Markman was being formed to preview potential stops.

“The trip is extremely confidential,” Youngblood said. “They need an agent to go with them, and the president and I decided you would be the best person for the job.”

“Yes, sir,” I said.

“The plan is that the president will make this trip a day or two after we get back, so we need you to make arrangements to fly back to Washington as soon as possible to join the advance group.”

I was disappointed that I wasn’t going to be able to participate in the rest of the president’s trip to the South Pacific and Asia, but at the same time the fact that I was being given the responsibility for this important advance was an indication that my abilities were being recognized and appreciated.

The following day, I remained in Canberra to finish making my departure arrangements while the rest of the detail accompanied President Johnson to Melbourne. Being that this was the first time a sitting American president had ever visited Australia, President Johnson’s every move was big news. Despite the protestors at the hotel and other small pockets of demonstrators during the motorcades, the overwhelming majority of Australians seemed almost starstruck by LBJ. They loved him.

The president’s arrival and motorcade through Melbourne was covered live on television, so I was able to watch everything in real time from my hotel room. It felt strange to be watching the events unfold when I would normally be right in the middle of the action, and I found myself filled with anxiety. The crowds were enormous—newscasters estimated at least half a million people and perhaps as many as a million. It was a frantic mob scene of children, teens, and adults screaming and shrieking. American and Australian flags fluttered from hands in every direction. The absolute hysteria reminded me of the Beatles’ arrival in New York City back in 1964. As the motorcade drove slowly through Melbourne’s downtown area, the presidential vehicle was forced to come to a complete stop as it became enveloped in a swarm of people. My stomach was in knots as I anticipated what was about to happen, and sure enough, the president took the opportunity to open the back door and step onto the side running board, and, clutching the side of the vehicle, he hurled himself up so that he was standing above the crowd. The people went absolutely crazy—shrieking and cheering, clamoring to get close enough to touch him. As he stood there, fully exposed, his ego overwhelmed by the adoring crowds, the agents were desperately trying to push people back from the car and create space so the motorcade could proceed.

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