After an eighty-seven-vote victory in his second try for the Senate in 1948, however, “Landslide Lyndon” seemed a better investment. His triumph—marred by charges of ballot stuffing—happened to coincide with Hughes’s first big plunge into buying national power, and Johnson soon joined numerous other politicians already on the Hughes payroll.
“Lyndon was taken care of annually,” recalled Dietrich. “On the basis of contributing to the former campaign, the present campaign, and the anticipated campaign, why we could legally give him $5,000 a year.”
Johnson was then a newly elected senator with no campaigns to run for another six years, but as his longtime aide Bobby Baker later noted, “he was always on the look-out for an odd nickel or dime.” Hardly yet a national figure, as a member of the powerful Armed Services Committee he nonetheless soon became known for his uncanny ability to land military contracts for his defense-industry backers.
Hughes, although only three years older than Johnson, was already a national legend, but he was just then emerging as a major defense contractor. Tainted by the “Spruce Goose” hearings a year earlier, and in need of well-placed friends, he sent Johnson $5,000 a year for at least four years, at a time when a senator’s salary was only $12,500.
The money came from a Canadian subsidiary of the Hughes Tool Company especially set up to bypass a ban on political contributions from domestic corporations.
Through the years there would be further contributions, and eventually Hughes would offer Johnson a million-dollar bribe. For the moment, however, he was confident his masterful bomb letter would carry the day. That, and the “solid memories.”
The president clearly shared those memories, and apparently looked forward to future rewards. Certainly he must have savored the fact that Hughes was now the supplicant, that the man from whom he had once begged billboards was now begging him—the Leader of the Free World—to halt a nuclear blast.
In any event, he treated his erstwhile benefactor with unusual deference. Even before Hughes’s letter arrived at the White House, Johnson had met privately with a Hughes emissary, Grant Sawyer, a former governor of Nevada now on Hughes’s payroll. The meeting was arranged by Vice-President Humphrey, who had already tapped Sawyer for a key position in his still unannounced presidential campaign. Sawyer would later deliver $50,000 in Hughes money to Humphrey’s drive.
And a day earlier, another Hughes representative had called White House Chief of Staff Marvin Watson with an astounding offer: “Mr. Hughes has agreed to completely finance the pending campaign of Vice-President Hubert H. Humphrey to any extent necessary to match the funds expended by Senator Robert Kennedy.” But only if Johnson delayed the scheduled nuclear test.
Watson later insisted he never even mentioned the call to either Humphrey or Johnson—perhaps because he was soon warned that “Drew Pearson has learned of Hughes’s offer of money to HHH if the blast is held off”—and there is no evidence that Hughes himself authorized the payoff, although he would later order Maheu to make a similar deal directly with the vice-president.
Whatever Hughes, Johnson, and Humphrey knew, and when they knew it, Sawyer’s Oval Office parley went quite well.
“Grant Sawyer has just left the President who sends his warmest personal regards,” Maheu reported to the penthouse. “He told Grant that he had the highest respect for you and your ability and also was very grateful for many favors of the past. I am sure you know that in addition to what you may have done personally many years ago, we have been good supporters. You will recall that when he was Vice President you asked me to set up something with him whereby he could call upon us any time he had candidates in whom he had a personal interest. We have never let him down in that area among other things.”
One of the candidates in whom Johnson had expressed a “personal interest” was his longtime crony John Connally, then running for governor of Texas. Maheu arranged a contribution to the Connally campaign through the Hughes Tool Company in Houston.
At the same time, Maheu had sought the then vice-president’s advice on a well-connected law firm to represent Hughes in the TWA litigation that was just beginning. Johnson was pleased to oblige. He recommended Arnold, Fortas & Porter, where his old friend and business associate Abe Fortas was then a senior partner. Hughes, of course, retained the firm.
Now, Johnson, still grateful for past favors, seemed ready to help the billionaire battle the bomb.
“He continued by telling Grant that if you had concern about the pending blast that was sufficient enough for him to have concern also,” Maheu reported, completing his account of the just-ended Oval Office parley. “In Grant’s presence he summoned AEC Chairman Seaborg to the White House. He informed Grant that Seaborg would have to prove to him conclusively that the blast was safe in every detail.”
At first elated, Hughes grew restive as the day wore on with no further word from the president. As evening approached, he became increasingly frantic, worried that Johnson would not read his letter, afraid that even if he did the AEC still might prevail.
“I wish you would call Sawyer and ask if he knows any way to find out if the President has actually read my letter and what his decision is and if he is going to do anything,” wrote the impatient recluse, certain that his masterpiece would have more impact than the former governor’s White House visit.
“The reason I ask is this: my letter contains a lot of material and data etc. which was not and is not known to Mr. Sawyer. On the other hand, when Sawyer arrived ahead of my letter and Johnson granted Sawyer an interview, he (Johnson) may have thought there was no need to read my letter since he had heard from Sawyer. We must find some way of persuading Johnson to read my letter now. It will do more for us than anybody can obtain through a meeting.”
Yet even as he put his faith in the inspired words he had written, Hughes became alarmed at the thought that his foes might gain the ear of the president.
“I am positive that my letter was very very effective, but the AEC has had a rebuttal period since my letter was digested, and I have had no opportunity to answer any claims they may have made,” he fretted.
“That is why I think we should discontinue being quite so bashful and risk the chance of finding we have made the first move,” he continued, eager to counter the bombers’ presumed backstairs lobbying.
“We must find out to whom this matter has been entrusted by the President. I am sure he has turned it over to one of his staff members. If we could make contact with such individual, I think we could make some exceedingly important suggestions: like how we dont seek glory of victory in this matter, and will be most happy to agree upon a press release (joint).”
In fact, Johnson had not delegated the matter to any single aide. Rather, he had taken personal charge of the bomb controversy and mobilized half the White House staff to deal with Hughes.
National Security Advisor Walt Rostow, AEC Chairman Glenn Seaborg, and the president’s science director Donald Hornig were instructed to report on the substantive issues. Marvin Watson, his second-in-command Jim Jones, and Harry McPherson were assigned to coordinate the project and draft a reply to Hughes’s letter.