could see them for himself. A voice coach was provided.
To at least one observer, Johnson seemed rather uninterested in the war.Alice Glass, a shade under six feet tall, with creamy skin and long, reddish-blond hair, a woman so spectacular that the noted New York society photographerArnold Genthe called her “the most beautiful woman I have ever seen,” was a small-town girl from Marlin, Texas, who had been installed as mistress of Longlea, an 800-acre estate in the
northern Virginia hunt country, by the immensely wealthy publisher of the
Austin American-Statesman
,Charles E. Marsh, by whom she had borne two children. Witty, elegant, hostess of a brilliant table and a sparkling salon of politicians and intellectuals, she possessed a political acumen so keen that the toughest Texas politicians enjoyed talking politics with her; it was Alice Glass who devised the compromise (“Give Herman the dam and let Lyndon have the land”) that pulled the Congressman and the ruler ofBrown & Root off the collision course that, in 1937, had threatened Johnson’s career. Alice Glass had been Lyndon Johnson’s mistress for more than three years, in a passionate love affair of which Marsh, patronizing and paternalistic toward the young Congressman, was unaware. (In 1939, the publisher had helped Johnson financially by
selling him land in Austin at a giveaway price. In 1940, he offered Johnson an oil deal that would have made him rich; Johnson refused it, because, he said, if the public knew he had oil interests, “it would kill me politically.”) Observing Johnson’s willingness to sit silently listening to Alice read poetry, knowing the risks he took in being the lover of the consort of a man so vital to his political career—this affair stands out in his life as perhaps
the only episode in it that ran counter to his ambitions—the Longlea circle believed that his feelings for Alice were unique, a belief shared by Alice, who had told intimates that she and Johnson had discussed marriage. In that era, a divorced man would be effectively barred from public office, but she said that Lyndon had promised to get divorced anyway and accept one of the several job offers he had received to become a corporate lobbyist in Washington. As a result, she kept
fending off marriage proposals from Marsh. “She wouldn’t marry Charles after she met Lyndon,” hersister, Mary Louise, says. The alacrity with which Johnson leapt into the 1941 Senate race whenMorris Sheppard died, however, made her realize that her lover’s political ambitions would always take priority, and that divorce was not a realistic hope, and, after the 1941 campaign, she finally agreed to marry the powerful
publisher. But, an idealist herself who had first been attracted to Johnson because she felt
he
was an idealist(“a young man who was going to save the world”), she still believed in his idealism, and when, despite her marriage, he asked her to visit him in California, she went. He was, she felt, a young man on his way to fight a war or at least to participate in the war effort.
The contrast between Johnson’s activities and the grim battles being reported daily in the newspapers was not lost on Alice, however, and she grew disillusioned. Years later, jokingly suggesting in a letter to a mutual friend,Brown & Root lobbyistFrank C. (Posh) Oltorf, that they collaborate on a book on Johnson, she said, “I can write a very illuminating chapter on his military career in
Los Angeles, with photographs, letters from voice teachers, and photographers who tried to teach him which was the best side of his face.” Her sister says that “She was disgusted, just disgusted with him after that trip,” although she was still powerfully attracted to him sexually. Alice’s closest friend, Welly Hopkins’ wife, says simply: “Lyndon was the love of Alice’s life.” As for Johnson, his feelings for
Alice no longer precluded seeing other women.
After Alice returned
To at least one observer, Johnson seemed rather uninterested in the war.Alice Glass, a shade under six feet tall, with creamy skin and long, reddish-blond hair, a woman so spectacular that the noted New York society photographerArnold Genthe called her “the most beautiful woman I have ever seen,” was a small-town girl from Marlin, Texas, who had been installed as mistress of Longlea, an 800-acre estate in the
northern Virginia hunt country, by the immensely wealthy publisher of the
Austin American-Statesman
,Charles E. Marsh, by whom she had borne two children. Witty, elegant, hostess of a brilliant table and a sparkling salon of politicians and intellectuals, she possessed a political acumen so keen that the toughest Texas politicians enjoyed talking politics with her; it was Alice Glass who devised the compromise (“Give Herman the dam and let Lyndon have the land”) that pulled the Congressman and the ruler ofBrown & Root off the collision course that, in 1937, had threatened Johnson’s career. Alice Glass had been Lyndon Johnson’s mistress for more than three years, in a passionate love affair of which Marsh, patronizing and paternalistic toward the young Congressman, was unaware. (In 1939, the publisher had helped Johnson financially by
selling him land in Austin at a giveaway price. In 1940, he offered Johnson an oil deal that would have made him rich; Johnson refused it, because, he said, if the public knew he had oil interests, “it would kill me politically.”) Observing Johnson’s willingness to sit silently listening to Alice read poetry, knowing the risks he took in being the lover of the consort of a man so vital to his political career—this affair stands out in his life as perhaps
the only episode in it that ran counter to his ambitions—the Longlea circle believed that his feelings for Alice were unique, a belief shared by Alice, who had told intimates that she and Johnson had discussed marriage. In that era, a divorced man would be effectively barred from public office, but she said that Lyndon had promised to get divorced anyway and accept one of the several job offers he had received to become a corporate lobbyist in Washington. As a result, she kept
fending off marriage proposals from Marsh. “She wouldn’t marry Charles after she met Lyndon,” hersister, Mary Louise, says. The alacrity with which Johnson leapt into the 1941 Senate race whenMorris Sheppard died, however, made her realize that her lover’s political ambitions would always take priority, and that divorce was not a realistic hope, and, after the 1941 campaign, she finally agreed to marry the powerful
publisher. But, an idealist herself who had first been attracted to Johnson because she felt
he
was an idealist(“a young man who was going to save the world”), she still believed in his idealism, and when, despite her marriage, he asked her to visit him in California, she went. He was, she felt, a young man on his way to fight a war or at least to participate in the war effort.
The contrast between Johnson’s activities and the grim battles being reported daily in the newspapers was not lost on Alice, however, and she grew disillusioned. Years later, jokingly suggesting in a letter to a mutual friend,Brown & Root lobbyistFrank C. (Posh) Oltorf, that they collaborate on a book on Johnson, she said, “I can write a very illuminating chapter on his military career in
Los Angeles, with photographs, letters from voice teachers, and photographers who tried to teach him which was the best side of his face.” Her sister says that “She was disgusted, just disgusted with him after that trip,” although she was still powerfully attracted to him sexually. Alice’s closest friend, Welly Hopkins’ wife, says simply: “Lyndon was the love of Alice’s life.” As for Johnson, his feelings for
Alice no longer precluded seeing other women.
After Alice returned
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