As always, George was struck by the sheer size of Lyndon Johnson. He was six foot three, but height was only part of it. His head was big, his nose was long, his earlobes were like pancakes. He shook George’s hand, then held on to it, grasping George’s shoulder with his other hand, standing close enough to make George feel uncomfortable at the intimacy.

Johnson said: “George, I’ve asked all the Kennedy people to stay on at the White House and help me. You’re all Harvard educated and I went to Southwest Texas State Teachers’ College. See, I need y’all more than he did.”

George did not know what to say. This level of humility was embarrassing. After a hesitation he said: “I’m here to help you any way I can, Mr. President.”

By now a thousand people must have said that or something similar, but Johnson reacted as if he had never heard it before. “I sure appreciate you saying that, George,” he said fervently. “Thank you.” Then he got down to business. “A lot of people have asked me to soften up the civil rights bill to make it easier for Southerners to swallow. They’ve suggested taking out the prohibition against segregation in public accommodations. I’m not willing to do that, George, for two reasons. The first is that they’re going to hate the bill regardless of how hard or soft it is, and I don’t believe they’ll support it no matter how much I draw its teeth.”

That sounded right to George. “If you’re going to have a fight, you might as well fight for what you really want.”

“Exactly. And I’ll tell you the second reason. I have a friend and employee called Mrs. Zephyr Wright.”

George recalled Mr. and Mrs. Wright, who had been in the presidential box at the House of Representatives.

Johnson went on: “One time when she was about to drive to Texas I asked her to take my dog with her. She said: ‘Please don’t ask me to do that.’ I had to ask why. ‘Driving through the South is tough enough just being black,’ she said. ‘You can’t find a place to eat or sleep or even go to the bathroom. With a dog it’s going to be just impossible.’ That hurt me, George; it almost brought me to tears. Mrs. Wright is a college graduate, you know. That was when I realized how important public accommodations are when we’re talking about segregation. I know what it is to be looked down on, George, and I sure don’t wish it on anyone else.”

“It’s good to hear that,” said George.

He knew he was being romanced. Johnson still had hold of his hand and shoulder, was still leaning in a little too close, his dark eyes looking at George with remarkable intensity. George knew what Johnson was doing—but it was working just the same. George felt moved by the story about Zephyr, and believed Johnson when he said he knew what it was to be looked down upon. He felt a surge of admiration and affection for this big, awkward, emotional man who seemed to be on the side of the Negroes.