east, “we hadan interesting time up and down the West Coast,” Connally says. In every city, the two young officers stayed at the best hotels—the Town House Hotel in Los Angeles, the Del Coronado in San Diego, the Empire in San Francisco. Sometimes the Navy paid; sometimes Alice’s husband paid: Charles Marsh had arranged for Johnson to have the use of “due bills” (credits
from hotels in payment for advertising) that hotel chains had given his various newspapers. The two young naval officers went on lighthearted shopping expeditions. In San Francisco, in a store owned by a Japanese named Matsomoto, who was about to be interned as an alien, “we bought robes and blouses at just giveaway prices—he followed us out into the street just begging us to buy more,” Connally says. Connally purchased a gray silk robe with blue piping that
forty years later was still one of his cherished possessions.
D URING THOSE TEN WEEKS , the movements of the Johnson Squadron were cloaked insecrecy. There were strategic reasons for this, of course. Back in December, when Johnson had entered the service, the
Houston Post
, a friendly paper, had noted that by going to the West Coast he had been “placed in line for possible early action against the Japs,” but, friendly though the
Post
was, it had been compelled to add, “Of course,if Mr. Johnson should be merely getting himself a safe, warm naval berth for use as a pre-campaign headquarters and [to] cash in on his patriotism, the purpose of his entering the service would become obvious, and the voters would be certain to react accordingly.” The
Post
, and voters in his own congressional district in Texas, might not, should they learn the nature and location of his
activities as December passed into January, and January into February, March and April, view Sun Valley, Idaho, as the front line for “action against the Japs”; they might even view his job as “a safe, warm naval berth”—they might even “react accordingly.” Another strategic reason involved Charles Marsh, who had business interests on the West Coast, and flew there while his wife was with Johnson. Wanting to visit Johnson, Marsh had his
secretaries telephone Johnson’s office in Washington to ascertain his whereabouts, but since Johnson’s secretary,Mary Rather, was able to tell Marsh’s secretaries that because of military secrecy, she did not know where Johnson was, the danger of the publisher dropping in unexpectedly on his wife and the young man of whom he was fond was averted.
The secrecy, however, extended also to the Navy. The movements of the two officers appear to have been almost as much of a mystery to their superiors as to the voters. Connally is careful to add to his description of the “fun” they had in California, “in spite of these little incidents,we were really working.” Even so, their commanding officer appears to have encountered some difficulty in keeping track of their movements.
On February 15, more than two weeks after Johnson had been dispatched to the Coast, Professor Barker was contacted, not by Johnson but by one of Johnson’s secretaries in Washington,O. J. Weber, who said he would be forwarding some reports from his boss. “Where is that man?” Barker asked Weber. “Tell him to let me know where he’s going to be so I can send him reports, orders, etc. from time to time or
we’ll get in a jam.” When Weber provided Barker with an address at which Johnson could be reached, Barker wrote the Lieutenant Commander, “I’m very glad to know your whereabouts as we have had trouble getting any address to which to send mail. Please keep us advised.” Johnson thereupon wrote Barker that “our messages and letters are evidentlycrossing each other.” But the difficulties in
communications—always, of course, a problem in a combat zone—continued. When, on March 5, Johnson sent progress reports on various shipyards to his superior, Barker wrote back that
from hotels in payment for advertising) that hotel chains had given his various newspapers. The two young naval officers went on lighthearted shopping expeditions. In San Francisco, in a store owned by a Japanese named Matsomoto, who was about to be interned as an alien, “we bought robes and blouses at just giveaway prices—he followed us out into the street just begging us to buy more,” Connally says. Connally purchased a gray silk robe with blue piping that
forty years later was still one of his cherished possessions.
D URING THOSE TEN WEEKS , the movements of the Johnson Squadron were cloaked insecrecy. There were strategic reasons for this, of course. Back in December, when Johnson had entered the service, the
Houston Post
, a friendly paper, had noted that by going to the West Coast he had been “placed in line for possible early action against the Japs,” but, friendly though the
Post
was, it had been compelled to add, “Of course,if Mr. Johnson should be merely getting himself a safe, warm naval berth for use as a pre-campaign headquarters and [to] cash in on his patriotism, the purpose of his entering the service would become obvious, and the voters would be certain to react accordingly.” The
Post
, and voters in his own congressional district in Texas, might not, should they learn the nature and location of his
activities as December passed into January, and January into February, March and April, view Sun Valley, Idaho, as the front line for “action against the Japs”; they might even view his job as “a safe, warm naval berth”—they might even “react accordingly.” Another strategic reason involved Charles Marsh, who had business interests on the West Coast, and flew there while his wife was with Johnson. Wanting to visit Johnson, Marsh had his
secretaries telephone Johnson’s office in Washington to ascertain his whereabouts, but since Johnson’s secretary,Mary Rather, was able to tell Marsh’s secretaries that because of military secrecy, she did not know where Johnson was, the danger of the publisher dropping in unexpectedly on his wife and the young man of whom he was fond was averted.
The secrecy, however, extended also to the Navy. The movements of the two officers appear to have been almost as much of a mystery to their superiors as to the voters. Connally is careful to add to his description of the “fun” they had in California, “in spite of these little incidents,we were really working.” Even so, their commanding officer appears to have encountered some difficulty in keeping track of their movements.
On February 15, more than two weeks after Johnson had been dispatched to the Coast, Professor Barker was contacted, not by Johnson but by one of Johnson’s secretaries in Washington,O. J. Weber, who said he would be forwarding some reports from his boss. “Where is that man?” Barker asked Weber. “Tell him to let me know where he’s going to be so I can send him reports, orders, etc. from time to time or
we’ll get in a jam.” When Weber provided Barker with an address at which Johnson could be reached, Barker wrote the Lieutenant Commander, “I’m very glad to know your whereabouts as we have had trouble getting any address to which to send mail. Please keep us advised.” Johnson thereupon wrote Barker that “our messages and letters are evidentlycrossing each other.” But the difficulties in
communications—always, of course, a problem in a combat zone—continued. When, on March 5, Johnson sent progress reports on various shipyards to his superior, Barker wrote back that
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