Page 19 - Leadership Lessons of the White House Fellows

THE PROGRAM

foreign policy advisors. The Vietnam War was in full swing, and the top-
ics of the meeting were the American response to an insurrection within
South Vietnam’s leadership and target selection for the bombing of North
Vietnam as part of Operation Rolling Thunder.
Pustay recalled the small group huddled around the president: Sec-
retary of Defense Robert McNamara, National Security Advisor
McGeorge Bundy, Director of Central Intelligence Richard Helms, and
General Earle Wheeler, the chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. The
young major listened intently and took copious notes so that he could
give Secretary Rusk a proper briefing on the important meeting. “So
everybody leaves, and I am the junior guy, so I am going to be the last
guy out,” Pustay recalled. “And as I’m leaving, the president taps me on
the shoulder and he says, ‘Would you like to have a bourbon and branch
water?’ I did not know what the heck branch water was, but if the com-
mander in chief asks you to have bourbon and branch water, you prob-
ably ought to do it.”
The president summoned a steward, who quickly produced a bottle of
bourbon and a pitcher of clear liquid. Pustay soon discovered—much to
his relief—that branch water is just a southern term for fresh water. The
two men settled onto the sofa in the Oval Office, Pustay sipping his bour-
bon, the president his scotch and soda, while engaging in small talk for
most of an hour. During a lull in the conversation, Pustay swirled the amber
liquid in his glass and marveled at the fact that he actually was sitting in
the Oval Office sharing a drink with the president of the United States.
He knew that being a White House Fellow had its benefits, but this was
beyond his wildest dream—the folks back in New Jersey would never
believe it! He smiled to himself and took another sip, enjoying the whis-
key’s rich flavor and smoky aroma, and he was about to congratulate the
president on his fine taste in bourbon when he looked up to see Johnson’s
eyes welling with tears. “Mr. President,” Pustay said. “I didn’t realize, per-
haps, the gravity of the situation we discussed in that meeting and the deci-
sions that you had to make there.”
“No, that’s not it,” Johnson said in his soft drawl. “I am very sad right
now because this is still Jack Kennedy’s house. Jack had charm—he was
witty and handsome. And here I am, just a poor Texas schoolteacher, a dirt
farmer. Since we got back from Dallas, the only one who has ever accepted
me here at the White House is Lady Bird.”

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