Kennedy (50 page)

Representative Stewart Udall of Arizona had never been defeated. His experience in Congress encouraged him into independent ventures and statements in the interest of his department and party that were not always consistent with White House policy, but it also enabled
him to serve as an additional channel to the Congress and as an effective campaigner and campaign adviser (including planning of the President’s “conservation” tours to dedicate dams in key states).

Coincidentally I had first met both Freeman and Udall at odd hours, although the President had met them both casually in 1955. Udall, after adjournment of the 1959 Congress, had come to our office at 3
A.M.
to declare his support for Kennedy’s candidacy. Seeking Minnesota delegates following Humphrey’s withdrawal in the spring of 1960, I had sipped Jane Freeman’s homemade hot chocolate with Orville at 4
A.M.
in his St. Paul living room after adjournment of Minnesota’s State Democratic Convention, at which Udall delivered a plea for Kennedy.

All in all, the Kennedy Cabinet was a group of gifted men. I felt tremendously pleased and impressed on the Sunday before inauguration, as the President worked in Palm Beach, when the Cabinet, with several absentees, gathered for its first informal get-together at the home of Arthur Goldberg, branching on lox and bagels. For several it was their first look at some of their colleagues. Some may not have been sure upon arrival who all of the others were—or even what lox and bagels were. But it was a harmonious group from that first meeting onward, and a loyal one. Not one sought to advance his own political interests at the expense of his colleagues or leader, and all willingly subordinated their own interests and identities to those of John Kennedy.

Equally remarkable was the number of men of Cabinet stature and ability serving in sub-Cabinet posts, including, in addition to those mentioned earlier, and a wide range of talent in the Department of State to be mentioned later, such indispensable Deputy or Under Secretaries as Gilpatric in Defense, Gudeman and Roosevelt in Commerce, Roosa and Fowler in Treasury, Katzenbach in Justice and Murphy in Agriculture. Edward R. Murrow immensely improved the United States Information Agency, its stature in the eyes of Congress and the world and its voice in the NSC. Space Administrator Webb and Atomic Energy Chairman Seaborg both brought unusual ability to their positions. Kennedy admired such Assistant Secretaries and Bureau Chiefs as Esther Peterson and Jim Reynolds at Labor, Surrey and Caplin at Treasury, Marshall at Justice, Scammon at Census, and Vance and Nitze at Defense. He felt confident leaving Civil Service matters to Macy, District affairs to Tobriner and Horsky, Federal procurement to Boutin, airlines to Halaby and Boyd, and Export-Import Bank matters to Linder. He frequently consulted Archie Cox on legal matters beyond the Solicitor General’s jurisdiction. He was proud of the caliber of such regulatory agency appointees as Cary at the SEC, Minow at the FCC, Swidler at the FPC and McCulloch at the NLRB.

Kennedy and his co-workers regarded the Civil Service and Foreign Service as honorable professions. Custom and Congressional criticism, the President knew, had driven many members of these services into an excess of caution, committees and clearances. The President sought to inspire confidence. He spoke directly on the phone to career specialists who had rarely been called by their own Secretaries. He attended and addressed staff meetings of the leading agencies. He gave new recognition to employee unions. He adhered to the merit system in new appointments. He protected career servants from security “witch-hunts” and Congressional harassment.

He obtained from the Congress increases in both civilian and military pay and, more importantly, a new and rational standard of comparability with private enterprise salaries. He told the Congress in his First State of the Union Message that he had found the Executive Branch

He also acted promptly in four ways to improve both the quality and effectiveness of our ambassadors abroad:

I. In too many countries our ambassadors and many of their officers were required to reach deep into their own pockets or go in debt to finance the normal entertainment expenses accompanying their posts—including hospitality for visiting Congressmen—as the result of legislative penny-pinching on what some Congressmen called “booze allowances.” Kennedy, even before the inauguration, worked (though with only limited success) to make possible the appointment of more career and other nonwealthy ambassadors by applying Palm Beach pressure to the key subcommittee chairman, Congressman John Rooney of New York.

2. In too many countries our ambassadors were unable to coordinate the activities of all the various American operatives in their country—intelligence agents, foreign aid technicians, agricultural attaches, information specialists and many others. Kennedy, early in 1961, issued a directive clarifying each ambassador’s authority as America’s principal spokesman and the President’s personal representative. He backed up his words by frequent personal messages and probing White House talks which at times disconcerted envoys more accustomed to being left undisturbed.

3. In too many countries the President and Department of State were in dangerous lack of rapid, reliable and secure communication channels with many of our own ambassadors. This became known to the President in the midst of the Cuban missile crisis. An order that a duty officer stand by the embassy telephone night and day throughout that crisis, for example, produced the embarrassed response from one ambassador that the only telephone operating at night in his somewhat isolated embassy was next to his wife’s bed in their bedroom. Cuban planning was briefly interrupted to initiate sweeping, long-range technical improvements.

4. In too many countries America’s representation had long been characterized by unprepared political appointees and unimaginative career appointees. Kennedy, despite some major exceptions and mistakes,
⁶
appointed a record high proportion of men trained in the language, culture and problems of their posts. Two out of three had risen through the ranks of the career service. His noncareer ambassadors, including a higher proportion of Negro and Spanish-speaking Americans, were usually nonpolitical in background, recruited from universities, foundations and the professions. Among the best were Professors Reischauer in Japan, Gordon in Brazil, Badeau in Egypt and the irresistible Galbraith in India; writers Attwood and Loeb in Geneva, and Martin in the Dominican Republic; lawyers Finletter at NATO, Blair in Denmark and Wine in the Ivory Coast; university presidents Cole in Chile and Stevenson in the Philippines; and many others. General James Gavin may not have moved General De Gaulle, but no other Ambassador to France could have done more (and De Gaulle might have been more friendly had he known of Gavin’s increased tendency to accept De Gaulle’s version of Franco-American relations). Even a frankly political appointee like Matt McCloskey was regarded in Ireland as the best American Ambassador in memory.

In addition to these noncareer appointees, able young career men were promoted to ambassador, such as Gullion in the Congo, Meyer in Lebanon, Stephansky in Bolivia and Berger in Korea; and the best of the old State Department hands—Bruce, Bunker, Bohlen, Thompson, Labouisse, Merchant and others—were all used to good advantage.

From the diversity of talent which he had assembled, John Kennedy drew the divisions of opinion which he encouraged. He also knew that so many strong-minded men would inevitably be engaged from time to time in clashes of jurisdiction, which he did not encourage.

He hardly needed to encourage them. The Food-for-Peace office, for example, wanted more independence from Agriculture, which wanted certain functions from State, which wanted less authority over balance of payments for Treasury. Treasury was angry about Justice’s blocking bank mergers. Justice detected softness on civil rights within Commerce. Commerce tangled with Labor over maritime strikes. Labor differed with Agriculture over migrant farm workers. Agriculture fought Interior on National Parks and Forests. Interior accused the Federal Power Commission of blocking orderly power development. And the Kennedy appointees on the Federal Power Commission were split amongst themselves.

These and similar disputes—between the CAB and the FAA, between NASA and the Air Force, between the Army Engineers and Reclamation, between State and Commerce, between Defense and the CIA—were not all settled by the President, though many were. Some were settled by the White House
⁷
or Budget Bureau, some by the parties themselves. Some smoldered on indefinitely, although the traditional rivalries between Labor and Commerce, State and Defense, and Agriculture and Interior were significantly lessened. Kennedy knew how to sooth and smooth over ruffled feelings and when to check and balance the views of competing departments. Better informed, he had a broader perspective. Keeping his top team intact to an unusual degree, he took pains to win over to each policy those who would be chiefly responsible for implementing it—and thus did not feel, for example, that he could push the Joint Chiefs too far on their budget or Secretary Dillon too far on international monetary reform.

One incident stands out in my mind, more as an exception than an example. At the close of a meeting on balance of payments problems, the President cautioned all those present to keep it confidential. Treasury Secretary Dillon murmured that it was too late, that Jean Monnet in Paris was already discussing such proposals and that State must have let it out. At that Under Secretary of State George Ball, already resentful of Treasury’s domination of diplomacy in this area, sharply retorted that the Dillon statement was wholly false and Monnet’s proposals were spontaneous. The President calmed everyone down before he left, but remarked to me later in his office, “I hope that doesn’t mean there is bad blood between Doug and George. If there is, it’s the only case of it anywhere in this administration.”

While that may have been overly optimistic, the dedication of his
associates to his success did in fact produce an unusual degree of unity—and Kennedy was proud of it. There were no cliques, much less cabals, in the Cabinet. To be sure, the six department heads not on the NSC felt somewhat neglected during the Cuban crisis. Those whose budgets were cut back to help make room for the tax cut were not enthusiastic about its proposal. Those less often invited to share the Kennedys’ social life after hours may have felt some envy of the McNamaras and Dillons—or if they didn’t, their wives no doubt did. But there were no clear or continuing splits along political or philosophical lines.

More than good feeling and good fellowship, however, was required to mold nearly three million civilian and military men and women on the Federal payroll into a smooth-running governmental machine. Three special Kennedy approaches deserve mention: (1) reorganization of the executive decision-making forces; (2) the clearance and coordination of public statements; and (3) personnel changes.

Kennedy brought to the White House unusual firsthand knowledge of the foreign, domestic, legislative and political arenas but no experience in the Executive Branch. He was always more interested in policy than in administration, and would later admit that “it is a tremendous change to go from being a Senator to being President. In the first months it is very difficult.” He continued to reshape executive procedures throughout his term, but from the outset he abandoned the notion of a collective, institutionalized Presidency. He ignored Eisenhower’s farewell recommendation to create a First Secretary of the Government to oversee all foreign affairs agencies. He abandoned the practice of the Cabinet’s and the National Security Council’s making group decisions like corporate boards of directors. He abolished the practice of White House staff meetings and weekly Cabinet meetings. He abolished the pyramid structure of the White House staff, the Assistant President-Sherman Adams-type job, the Staff Secretary, the Cabinet Secretariat, the NSC Planning Board and the Operations Coordinating Board, all of which imposed, in his view, needless paperwork and machinery between the President and his responsible officers. He abolished several dozen interdepartmental committees which specialized in group recommendations on outmoded problems. He paid little attention to organization charts and chains of command which diluted and distributed his authority. He was not interested in unanimous committee recommendations which stifled alternatives to find the lowest common denominator of compromise.

He relied instead on informal meetings and direct contacts—on a personal White House staff, the Budget Bureau and
ad hoc
task forces to
probe and define issues for his decision—on special Presidential emissaries and constant Presidential phone calls and memoranda—on placing Kennedy men in each strategic spot. Particularly in 1961 and particularly on National Security matters, he talked at the White House or by telephone to lower-level officers and experts with firsthand knowledge or responsibility. (At least one State Department subordinate was embarrassed by the profanely skeptical reply he gave when the voice on the other end of the line announced itself as the President’s.) “The President can’t administer a department,” Kennedy said when asked about this practice,

Abolishing the Operations Coordinating Board, he made clear his intention to strengthen departmental responsibility “without extensive formal machinery” and to maintain