Summit at Hollybush

Chapter 6: The Interim Day

Those who insist that television and radio have relegated the newspaper to a Model T communication status would have been surprised had they, on Saturday morning, June 24, visited the Bowe's News Agency on Glassboro's High Street. There a harried Edith Rulon, busily ringing up sales, paused to exclaim, "Things are a madhouse around here; people are buying papers like there was no tomorrow. They take ten or twelve at a time."

"Fourteen," corrected College Administrator Dr. Carl Nienstedt, laying down two dollars and grabbing an armful of papers. Warned by Friday's experience of the probability of a Saturday run on the newspaper supply, the agency fortunately had stocked 550 copies of New York papers instead of the normal few dozen.

Like members of a cast avidly scanning reviews of an opening night performance, Glassboroites were eager to read how the outside world viewed the town's opening day Summit performance. But on Saturday there was another, deeper motive. Citizen Carmina Diangelo expressed the feeling when she said, "It would be great for Glassboro if those two leaders really accomplished something." Uppermost in her mind was the hope that the Glassboro Summit would be something more than a footnote in the history books. Carmina and Glassboro were hopeful that President Johnson and Premier Kosygin might reach understandings that historians would record in at least chapter-size form.

First Meeting Reactions

How far had the first Holly Bush meeting taken the world along the road to peace? Quite a distance if banner headlines appearing in the nation's press could be taken as the sole barometers of progress. In newspapers from east-to-west coasts, headlines screamed the glad tidings: U.S.-RUSSIAN RELATIONS TAKE TURN FOR BETTER; LBJ, KOSYGIN ENTHUSED BY SUMMIT PROGRESS; TALKS MAY BE HISTORIC; LONG TALKS HINT SOLID GAINS; SUMMIT TALKS GIVE BALM FOR FRAYED NERVES OF WATCHING WORLD; MEETINGS CALLED A STEP TOWARD PEACE; AGREEMENTS SEEN IN TALKS; A CORDIAL SESSION; and JOHNSON HINTS AGREEMENTS MAY BE NEAR.

Like vintage wines these headlines were heady stuff, but their exhilarating impact soon was tempered by sobering news stories, which were far more restrained in their optimism. Reporters and news analysts, of course, were impressed with the first meeting aspects: the cordiality of the Big Two toward each other, the length of the meeting, and above all the Premier's initiative in suggesting the follow-up Sunday meeting. But realistic newsmen cautioned against runaway optimism, pointing out that stubborn factors of restraint still existed despite the euphoria at the Glassboro scene. Present was the remembrance of past Soviet-American Summit gatherings, which started in hope and ended in disillusionment. Worrisome too was a feeling that the Glassboro meeting had been arranged too quickly without the benefit of weeks of intensive preparation by foreign ministers and lesser staff members; tough international problems were not solved by spur-of-the-moment Summit meetings of two leaders. Finally, the news analysts emphasized that Premier Kosygin, despite his outward show of affability, was not a free bargaining agent. The Russian Poliburo headed by Party Chairman Leonid Brezhnev was the group that would make the final Soviet decisions at Holly Bush, and follow-up instructions from this collective leadership could change the cordial Holly Bush atmosphere overnight.

Some news stories, while admitting that the first Holly Bush meeting provided grounds for restrained optimism, advised against extravagant expectations. In its lead Summit article on Saturday morning, the New York Times, for example, maintained that, "No concrete agreements are expected from the heads of government, and the Soviet delegation has appeared especially eager to avoid the impression of such an agreement." Echoing this thought was the Montgomery (Alabama) Advertiser's comment: "Nobody expected the President and Premier to come up with ready solutions to what at the moment are insoluble problems."

Editorial opinion on the first Summit Meeting's outcome was mixed. A large group of the nation's editors expressed a feeling of guarded optimism, believing that the Holly Bush talks offered a glimmer of hope that a turning point may have been reached in world history; in the meantime, it was advisable to keep fingers crossed and pray for the best. Others offered the judgment that the Big Two meeting was useful, if only to get a dialogue going. The thought here was that talking was better than shooting, or as Winston Churchill once said, "To jaw jaw is better than to war war.''

A minority of editorials were frankly hostile, viewing the Holly Bush Summit as another opportunity for the Soviets to use negotiation as a tool of aggression. Hostility reached a high point when the Chicago Tribune insisted that American presidents for twenty years had made spectacles of themselves running to summits at the bidding of Soviet dictators with results less impressive than the dimensions of an anthill. Continuing, the Tribune editorial predicted a Sunday Summit communique of "frankness and cordiality," but this would be merely an exercise in deception for "the protagonists hate each other's guts and their encounter has all the significance of an episode in Batman."

High United States government officials were neither pessimistic nor optimistic, but they were cautious. Speaking in Los Angeles to the Democratic Party faithful on Friday evening, President Johnson lauded the "Spirit of Holly Bush," i.e., a spirit of reasoning together, but he was careful to report that no agreements had been reached. Significantly he added, "All of you must remember that one meeting does not make a peace. These meetings have not ended our troubles and our dangers, and I cannot promise you that they will not happen again." In Washington, Senate Majority Leader Mike Mansfield expressed the hope that the Johnson-Kosygin encounter would be the first step on the long journey to peaceful understanding, but he also doubted that any momentous decisions would emerge from the conference.

After what they had seen and felt on Whitney Avenue the day before, Glassboroites read these cautious assessments of the first Summit meeting with twinges of disappointment and perplexity. But spirits revived after they read second-thought press reactions to the choice of Glassboro as the Summit site. For hard-boiled journalists were impressed with Glassboro's Friday performance. Admiring newsmen noted the speed with which preparations had been made, an accomplishment cleverly described by Philadelphia Bulletin's Harry C. Toland: "Glassboro, after being given a mere sixteen-hour notice, rose to the occasion like the Israeli tank corps." Admired too was the courtesy and good will of the Glassboro community, traits that prompted the Washington Star to write, "The conferences of statesmen cannot suffer from exposure to this infectious good will." High praise for Glassboro came from the prestigious New York Times, a paper not given to writing in superlatives. Wrote a Times news analyst, "The setting for the meeting could not have been better." Looking over the Holly Bush environment, a Boston newsman, veteran of twenty years of Summitry coverage, remarked, "This is fine for Summits. It's much better to get them away from palaces." Feature writer Richard Dougherty of the Los Angeles Times insisted that, "If the State Department planners had had months to choose a site for the first meeting of Kosygin and Johnson, which they didn't, they could not have picked a more American town." The ultimate in editorial praise for the Glassboro performance came from the Aurora (Illinois) Advertiser :
Yes, we for one have a soft spot in our heart for Glassboro State, a college we didn't know existed before this week. And we think the same thing must be true in many, many hearts across this land of ours which Glassboro and a lot of others still love . . . .

We think the rest of the country and the world owes an expression of appreciation not only to Glassboro State, but to the people of that small town which found itself so suddenly smack in the center of the world's spotlight. Glassboro came through with flying colors, in a hurry, without much time to get ready.
The "sleepy little town" at first considered a bizarre location for a Summit site, hall met the challenge and had made believers of the most tough-minded of people–the nation's press.

Participants' Saturday Activities

 Saturday, June 24, was more than a day to read about what had happened on Friday. It was also a time when the Holly Bush Conference participants lived in the present and prepared for the future. At the Soviet headquarters in New York City, Premier Kosygin and his staff had completed and dispatched to Moscow a Russian version of Friday's Summit meeting. While waiting for the eleven-member Politburo's reactions and instructions, Mr. Kosygin and a fifty-member party, including his daughter Mrs. Lyuclinila Gvishiani, Andrei Gromyko, and Anatoly Dobrynin, early Saturday morning climbed aboard a United States Air Force Boeing 707 jet bound for Niagara Falls, the Mecca of the American tourist world. This venture was the Kosygin response to President Johnson's invitation to visit any place in the United States. At 10:10 A.M. the big airship roared to a halt at the Niagara Falls International Airport, where the Russian leader exchanged friendly greetings with a crowd of about 2,000 people. From that point the Premier became for six-and-one-half hours a tourist in a holiday mood.

Mr. Kosygin did not miss much of what the scenic wonder of the western world had to offer. As a starter he enjoyed a motor tour of Goat Island, following which he viewed the giant falls from the vantage point of Prospect Park's 218-foot observation tower. Donning a slicker but refusing a protective rain hat with quip, "I like the wind and mist in my face," the Soviet Premier enjoyed a twenty-minute boat ride on the Maid of the Mist, which carried the distinguished visitor over the roaring water below the falls. Back on land Mr. Kosygin twitted Ambassador Dobrynin for his oversight in not having had the United States State Department place on the itinerary a visit to the Robert Moses Power Plant, largest hydroelectric plant in the western hemisphere. Niagara Falls Mayor E. Dent Lockey quickly corrected this error by arranging a tour of the hydroelectric project, whose giant generators fascinated the technically inclined Premier. Mr. Kosygin capped his whirlwind visit with a leisurely luncheon at John's Flaming Hearth, one of Niagara Fall's choice eating spots. Here the Russian contingent enjoyed a menu of steak, lobster tails, baked potatoes, and salad. During the meal, the Premier raised his glass of French rose wine in a toast to a peaceful world.

Emerging from the restaurant, he responded to the cheers of 500 spectators with words of appreciation and praise, "Everywhere I've been, I found very nice, kind, and pleasant people. Niagara Falls leaves a memorable impression; we will always retain it in our memories. "Having unburdened himself of these encomiums, the Russian leader boarded the big jet with the words UNITED STATES OF AMERICA emblazoned along the length of its fuselage. By 3:30 P.M. he was back in New York City anxious to read reports from Moscow-based Politburo members, informing him on how to prepare for Sunday's second Holly Bush Summit Meeting.

The Premier's benign demeanor and fraternal behavior at Niagara Falls augured well for the forthcoming Sunday talks. His outward reactions revealed none of the East-West Cold War tensions of recent days. American diplomatic realists, however, warned that the Russian's performance on Sunday would be conditioned by Politburo instructions for charting the Soviet course at the forthcoming Sunday session.

Unlike his Russian guest, President Johnson had no sightseeing plans for the interim day. After the first Summit session, the Chief Executive flew to Los Angeles, arriving there at 10:30 P.M. to fulfill a long-standing speaking engagement to help fill Democratic Party campaign coffers. As Mr. Johnson slipped into the rear entrance of the Century Plaza Hotel, he was spared the sight of 1,000 club-swinging police officers restraining 10,000 Viet Nam anti-war peace demonstrators, ranging from young hippies to stylishly dressed matrons. Earlier the crowd's emotions had been raised to a dangerous pitch by talks of encouragement given by heavyweight boxer Cassius Clay, Rap Brown, and baby-specialist Benjamin Spock. Safe inside the 800-room hotel, the President relaxed briefly to enjoy the sallies of toastmaster Jack Benny and the musical offerings of the Supremes, Ed Ames, and Freddie Martin's orchestra. After delivering his speech, Mr. Johnson left Los Angeles at 2:52 A.M. Saturday morning, flying to San Antonio, Texas. There he boarded a helicopter for a 5:31 A.M. arrival at his Johnson City ranch.

When the President climbed into his Texas bed, he understood the meaning of the Shakespearian line, "Sleep that knits up the ravell'd sleeve of care." For the hard-driving Chief Executive had been awake and on the move for over twenty-five consecutive hours, from 4:30 Friday morning to 5:51 Saturday morning; and he had gone from the pressures of an east-coast Summit Meeting to the challenge of a west-coast speaking engagement. It was hardly a schedule that doctors prescribe for a person with a history of a massive heart attack.

Mr. Johnson slept for a few hours, and then was up preparing for the Sunday Summit conference. He kept the telephone line from the ranch to Washington busy, contacting Dean Rusk, Robert McNamara, and Walter Rostow. With them the President discussed the Friday conference, gathered information, and plotted strategy for the Sunday meeting. After lunch, the proud grandfather journeyed to Austin, Texas, where at the Seaton Hospital he met, for the first time, grandson Patrick Lyndon Nugent. Looking down on the sleeping infant, the big man wistfully observed, "Patrick Nugent doesn't seem nearly as concerned with the problems of the world as I am." Following a Johnson family tradition, the four-day-old grand­father had brought along a $100 savings bond for Patrick, the first of the many the boy would receive from granddad. After a one-half-hour visit, the busy President embarked for Johnson City, sixty-five miles distant. Back at the ranch he divided time in relaxing and in making further preparations for his Sunday date with Mr. Kosygin.

Saturday was no holiday for Mr. Johnson's chief aides; on the contrary, it turned out to be a day of grinding work. Secretary of State Dean Rusk, for example, met diplomats from Latin America and Western Europe at U. N. Ambassador Arthur Goldberg's Waldorf Towers suite in New York, where the Secretary briefed the friendly diplomats on the course of the Friday Summit Meeting. He also discussed with them details of a possible compromise resolution to end the Mid-East impasse. After this conference, Mr. Rusk flew to Washington, where he directed staff preparation work for the second Summit Meeting. In other Washington offices, Robert McNamara, Walter Rostow, and Llewellyn Thompson, back from briefing former President Eisenhower at his Gettysburg home, were also busy making preparations for Sunday. They kept close to telephones ready to answer questions or give advice to their Texas-based Chief.

Back at the Glassboro scene many citizens spent the interim Saturday doing what people of a small American town usually do on a warm day in late June. They mowed lawns, trimmed shrubbery, washed cars, went shopping-some to the town's four supermarkets, others to the Cherry Hill or Moorestown Malls. Many thronged the area's swimming pools, seeking cooling relief from the muggy weather. Other Glassboroites chose to remain in air-conditioned homes where they, in an after-glow state of mind, relived with neighbors and friends the incredible events of the previous day. They had much to talk about and to be proud of. They were convinced that Glassboro's cordial behavior as hosts on Friday had provided scholars with enough material to rewrite the rules of diplomatic eitquette. Perhaps naively many citizens were convinced that it was Glassboro's courtesy and warmth which helped draw the President and Premier back to Glassboro for a second talk.

Many Glassboro residents, like pilgrims traveling to a shrine, made their way to the college campus where they got as close to Holly Bush as security agents would permit. There on Whitney Avenue the local people snapped pictures of Holly Bush and mingled with tourists from many states. These were vacation-bound travelers, who had detoured to Glassboro for a look at a spot where a bit of world history had been made the day before. Nodding in the direction of the Holly Bush Summit site, one visitor was overheard saying, "At least for today, I bet that is the most photographed object in the world."

After viewing Holly Bush, Glassboro citizens made their way to the Esbjornson gymnasium, the communications nerve center of the Summit Conference. Here they were not only allowed to survey the building's exterior but were also permitted to go inside. Spread out before them were the instruments that had sent the Summit story throughout the world: television cameras, multi-colored telephones perched on rows of tables, banks of teletype machines, and tangles of cables covering the spacious floor in spaghetti-like fashion. Here too they saw weary newsmen still typing human-interest feature stories.

On that interim day, some Glassboro people had little time for sightseeing. Acting Mayor John Wilson, for example, had intended to spend Saturday sun-bathing in his back yard, but he soon discovered that he had to postpone this relaxation for another day. Five Philadelphia and New York radio and television networks had other plans for the Mayor. They insisted on his coming down town for interviews. It was at one of these sessions that Mr. Wilson plaintively criticized Secret Service agents for their Friday refusal to permit him to greet Premier Kosygin in person. Police Chief Everett Watson spent a large portion of Saturday reviewing Friday's security experience as a guide to preparing for the challenge of the Sunday meeting. Saturday found Chris Siebert busy all day, supervising the installation of four more air conditioners in Holly Bush and erecting stands for television networks. Bill Carey of the Glassboro Highway Department and his workmen pitched in to aid college maintenance employees in "Operation Cleanup," a project on the campus grounds made necessary by the activities of the previous day. Glassboro High School senior Connie Erikson used many of her Saturday hours painting a sketch of the Holly Bush building. Signing it, "To Premier Kosygin from the Glassboro Teenagers," Connie finished the task at 1:00 A.M. Sunday morning with the hope that some way might be found in getting it into the Russian leader's hands.

Connie Erikson was not the only Glassboroite anxious to contribute a gift as evidence of community good will. Attending a company dinner on Firday[sic] evening, Samuel Raffa, Owens­ Illinois personnel manager, conceived the idea of having the Bridgeton Plant turn out commemorative glassware as Summit Meeting mementos, a project which met with instant management approval. Owens-Illinois glassmaking workers labored throughout Friday evening and Saturday morning to complete the job. Artists were then called in to etch on one side of each glass an attractive picture of the Holly Bush building; on the other side they printed salient details of the historic meeting.

At 4:30 P.M. on Saturday, Mr. Raffa picked up two gross of the glasses which were still warm from the oven. Placing them into packages of one dozen each, he enlisted the aid of Mayor Wilson and Glassboro's Bill Dalton in trying to deliver them to President Johnson, Premier Kosygin, Governor Hughes, and Dr. Robinson. Delivery was made to the Governor and to President Robinson, but attempts to get the glassware to the two world leaders ran into difficulties. As many a Glassboro gift-bearing citizen learned throughout the Summit Conference, Mr. Raffa discovered it was a fruitless task to make contact with the top officials in the Summit Conference hierarchy.

Early Saturday morning found Glassboro's famous displaced couple, Dr. and Mrs. Robinson, debating whether to carry out previously made plans to attend a wedding at Hackettstown in North Jersey over 100 miles from Glassboro. The bride at the ceremony was the daughter of Dr. Michael Gilligan, State Assistant Commissioner of Education and close personal and professional friend of Dr. Robinson. Sensitive always to the feelings of others, the Robin3ons feared their close association with the Summit Conference and the attendant publicity might steal a share of the wedding spotlight from the bride and groom. But friendship for Dr. Gilligan prompted the Robinsons to take the risk. At 8:00 A.M. they started by automobile for distant Hackettstown.

At the wedding ceremony their fears of becoming scene­ snatchers did not materialize, for the Robinsons' entrance caused few turning of heads or whispered comments. Near the end of the service, an attendant tapped Dr. Robinson on the shoulder to whisper that a telephone message awaited him in the rectory office. The call was from College Business Manager Walter Campbell, who informed the College President that Governor Hughes thought it would be a nice gesture to donate to the Smithsonian Institute the two chairs and end table, which President Johnson and Premier Kosygin had used at their meeting. But the Governor wanted Dr. Robinson's permission before carrying out the proposal, an assent which the Glassboro President quickly gave. This was no small patriotic gesture, for the Victorian rocker that Mr. Johnson sat in had been a part of Mrs. Robinson's family possessions for more than a century.

Mr. Campbell then gave Dr. Robinson a Washington telephone number to call. After some initial difficulty in making connections, he talked to Dean Rusk's deputy, who wanted to assure Dr. Robinson that a State Department representative would visit Glassboro on Monday to settle expense accounts relating to Summit activities. After completing the call, the Glassboro President laid a five-dollar bill on the rectory table as payment for placing the Washington call. By this time the wedding ceremony had ended. The Robinsons stayed on for the reception at Blairstown and then started home for Glassboro, where they arrived at 8:30 P.M., in ample time to steel themselves for another day of Summit activities.

Other college personnel spent the interim Saturday in a variety of ways. Business Manager Walter Campbell was involved in virtually every aspect of preparation for the Sunday meeting: security; food supplies; housing; and sprucing up Holly Bush with new furniture, additional air conditioners, and added drapes. Dean of Instruction Stanton Langworthy and Dean of Administration Ward Broomall devoted frustrating hours to the touchy problem of distributing a drastically reduced number of identification badges to college personnel. Langworthy and Broomall also took on the formidable task of relocating a college workshop of 385 high-school cheerleaders from scattered states along the Atlantic Seaboard. Resorting to radio broadcasts, the college officials ordered the cheerleaders to report to the Glassboro High School at 2:00 P.M. Sunday, changes in location and time which later brought howls of protests from parents and clinic organizers. College Public Relations Director Don Bagin and his assistant Ben Resnik worked all day and night on Saturday, preparing additional informational kits for the press, compiling motel locations and prices for reporters, arranging for the newsmen to sleep in college dormitories if such was their preference, drawing up a list of church locations for the most reverent newshawks, and arranging for the newspeople to relieve their weariness by cooling swims in the college's olympic-size pool.

Maintenance Chief Otto Cassady and his right-hand man Victor Fowler spent a good part of Saturday clearing the campus of the debris left from the Friday meeting-milk cartons, cigarette packages, film wrappers, and juice containers. Later the hard-working Mr. Cassady growled, "Those reporters and T. V. men deposited twice as much trash in front of Holly Bush as the crowd left on Whitney Avenue." The two maintenance directors also devoted much of the interim day springing into action whenever White House Staff members blew the whistle.

Illustrative of this type of activity were the time and effort spent in locating a firm which could install an anchor fence in front of Holly Bush as a barrier to keep reporters at a respectable distance from the building entrance, where the Presidential podium was located. Otto Cassady's normal good nature turned slightly sour when, after workmen had installed the fence and returned to their Pennsauken base, Sherwin Markman ordered Cassady to recall the installers to relocate the barrier in deference to a national television network's wishes. Neither was the Cassady disposition sweetened at 11:00 Saturday night., when the White House staff requested him to obtain and install equipment for barbecuing meat to be served at the Sunday meal. Otto Cassady can be excused for harboring ambivalent feelings for White House officials. He had respect for their efficiency but there was also an irritation at a tendency to expect maintenance directors to supply immediate answers to all sudden needs.

And Saturday was no day of rest for Glassboro student Linda Bodine who, when she is not studying or attending classes, earns part of her college expenses by working as a college telephone operator. On Saturday, incoming calls continued to light up the switchboard, coming from Hawaii, Japan, and from all parts of the United States. Many of the messages gave Linda a deeper understanding of human nature than she had ever learned from textbooks. Not a few were from faculty members irritated by failure to learn where paychecks could be picked up. Some were from cheerleaders' parents, who demanded their deposit fees returned, with one irate mother screaming at the hapless Linda, "Why didn't they notify us of the change in plans?" Other calls were from summer school registrants, asking for withdrawal fees or changes in schedules, and who were not at all convinced that Linda's preoccupation with Mr. Johnson 's and Mr. Kosygin's visit was an excuse for not getting answers. A number of calls were directed to Dr. Robinson from people offering congratulations or wishing to give him advice on handling the Summit meeting.

Other communications were also amusing. College secretary Mary Kelly, relieving the bone-weary Linda, recalls one from a Gloucester County woman who had learned that the college on Friday had run out of food for the two world leaders. Her recommendation for forestalling a similar Sunday disaster was the organization of a local food-raising committee. Mary also remembers a call from the mother of a young man in military flight training. She requested permission for her aviator son to land his plane on the Glassboro Athletic Field during a lull in the Summit proceedings. Her thought was that this stunt would give publicity and prestige to the flight-training program and to her son's participation in it. Equally amusing were the messages coming in from callers who wanted to offer advice to President Johnson and the Premier directly on how to behave at a Summit Meeting.

Manning the college switchboard during those Summit days and nights was interesting and at times amusing, but it was also a tiring job. Even in rare periods of relative calm when the girls tried to nap, their rest was interrupted by reporters asking to phone out a story or by Secret Service officers making security checks. On Saturday night, when the pace of work had slackened, Glassboro student Linda Kodash, a relief operator, recalls being kept awake by workmen erecting the security fence outside the dormitory windows. Linda claims sleep finally came after she decided "to count stakes instead of sheep."

More Reconversion at Holly Bush 

On that interim Saturday scores of newspaper accounts described Glassboro citizens in relaxed moods, doing little but basking in the aftermath of Friday's stirring events. As we have seen, this assessment applied to some Glassboroites but for others it bore small semblance to reality. Certainly, relaxation was no companion of Glassboro people who worked all day in applying an additional beauty treatment to the matronly nineteenth-century Holly Bush mansion.

No one doubted that President Johnson and Premier Kosygin had been impressed at their Friday session with Holly Bush, with both its exterior and its genteel interior. But, despite this praise from the highest of Summit officials, Presidential Assistant Sherwin Markman was not satisfied. He was determined to use the interim day to make Holly Bush still more presentable. A Glassboro official, reconciled to another long period of backbreaking labor, ruefully commented on the Markman attitude, "Everything that was so perfect the day before didn't suit him on Saturday. He kept us busy rearranging everything we had arranged on Friday." Under the quiet but insistent direction of martinet Markman, work began that was to give the Holly Bush interior a garb on Sunday markedly different from the one it had worn at the Friday meeting.

Weather reports for Sunday presaged a hot, muggy day, even more uncomfortable than Friday's Turkish-bath conditions. On Friday White House cooks had found the large kitchen fan a poor substitute for air conditioning, and White House press officials, working in the upstairs mezzanine room, had more than once noted the absence of air conditioners. Too, a Markman change in room assignments for Sunday added to the press officials' weather woes. With the finesse of a diplomat, the Presidential Assistant arranged to have the Russian staff members occupy both of the second-floor bedrooms for their work. This decision meant that American staff members, who on Friday had occupied one of these rooms, were expected to share the mezzanine room with their press brothers–a prospect not calculated to reduce humidity nor improve working conditions.

Mr. Markman solved the problem on Saturday morning by requesting Walter Campbell to call Community Oil Company's Joseph Grochowski for additional air conditioners. In turn Mr. Grochowski contacted Glassboro's Chris Siebert, who rounded up three installers and equipment for another working session at Holly Bush. Two air conditioners were quickly installed in the kitchen and two more were placed in the mezzanine room. With these installations, sixteen of the cooling machines projected from the venerable sandstone building, a sight which would have puzzled Thomas Whitney, the Victorian-age builder of Holly Bush.

Having provided for the physical comfort of the Holly Bush Summit Conference's occupants, Mr. Markman turned his attention to what he considered a few aesthetic shortcomings, among which was the need to make adjustments in the drapes that Stanley Glazer had hung in the Holly Bush rooms for the Friday meeting. The Presidential Assistant also wanted drapes placed in the two second-floor rooms the Russian staff would use on Sunday. Thus it was that Mr. Glazer again received an emergency call to report to Holly Bush, but this message came at 9:30 A.M. in contrast to the Friday 4:00 A.M. sleep-breaking call. And this time the draper did not go to Holly Bush alone. He took his wife and fifteen-year-old daughter along to help hang the drapes and to give them an opportunity to be in a house where the fate of the world was being decided.

The Glazers arrived in the vicinity of Holly Bush at 10:00 A.M. Loaded down with drapery material, they made their way to the building. Nearing their destination, they were hailed by Saturday-morning sightseers who, divining Glazer's mission, offered their services gratis as amateur drapery hangers. Their sole compensation would be a chance to explore Holly Bush. Declining with thanks, the Glazers entered the building and went to work. They made adjustments in drapes previously hung, and then proceeded to the two Russian-assigned rooms on the second floor, where they placed gold-colored, Fiberglas drapes in the windows. Completing his task, Glazer viewed his handiwork with deep satisfaction, for on his second Holly Bush assignment Sherwin Markman had given him sufficient time to do an expert job. At 2:00 P.M. the Glazers left the Summit headquarters with the hope that their contribution would in its small way help provide an atmosphere conducive to fruitful peace discussions.

In another Holly Bush face-lifting beautification operation, Mr. Markman decided that different furniture pieces were required for the mezzanine room and the two second-floor rooms. The Presidential Assistant was not deprecating the articles of furniture hastily gathered together and arranged in the frantic preparations for the first Summit meeting, but he did feel that more comfortable and suitable pieces would better meet the needs of officials engaged in Summitry work.

As so often occurred in the Summit days, Sherwin Markman turned to Glassboro's Walter Campbell for help, and once more this official rose to the occasion. He placed a telephone call to Weir's furniture store in Glassboro, requesting owner Robert Weir to come to Holly Bush for a quick discussion on meeting Markman's furniture needs. Upon arrival Mr. Weir, an interior decorator as well as merchant, meticulously made plans for each room, considering decor, arrangement patterns, and utility. Completing his assessments the furniture dealer submitted his findings to Markman and Campbell. Both agreed quickly with the Weir recommendations. An obstacle, however, remained before the agreements could be placed into effect. Mr. Weir explained that the furniture required had already been sold but not delivered to customers, and he had no additional pieces of the types and quantity needed in stock at the store. In an unselfish and patriotic gesture, however, the dealer decided to lend the furniture for Conference purposes free of charge. Later that day Mr. Weir called the customers explaining what he had done. To his surprise and relief, they enthusiastically endorsed the Weir decision, for not many people in years to come would be able to boast that furniture in their homes had been used at a Summit Conference. In a sequel to this episode, the customers' expectations of owning historic furniture were dashed, because state officials' delight with the new furniture led them to insist that the original transaction was a sale rather than a loan. Both Mr. Weir and his customers bowed to the State's right of eminent domain, and, as a consequence, most of the furniture delivered on Summit Saturday still graces the Holly Bush rooms, purchased and paid for by the State of New Jersey.

Back-tracking to 10:00 A.M. on interim Saturday, we find college maintenance men unloading fifty-five pieces of predominately early-American furniture, together with eleven assorted lamps, and carrying them to the three upstairs rooms, which the men had recently cleared of Friday's Summit Meeting furniture. Under the direction of interior decorator Weir, workmen arranged Heywood-Wakefield furniture of all kinds, including sofas, a desk, rocking chairs, armchairs, love seats, step-end tables, sawbuck tables, lamp tables, and cocktail tables.

Placing the eleven lamps precipitated one of the few Summit Conference's altercations, but it was of a tempest­in-a-teapot variety. Atlantic City Electric Company's Phil Miller was one of the participants. He subsequently confessed that the argument never would have occurred if the Holly Bush reconverters had not been fighting fatigue brought on by too few hours of sleep since Thursday morning. Nerves were on edge, and few recalled Emily Post's rules of polite behavior. It all began when Phil, checking electric power consumption devices, examined the three upstairs rooms and saw about eight lamps in each. The weary electrical expert exploded: "This looks like a furniture store." Fearful of a power failure in the middle of the Sunday Johnson-Kosygin talks, Mr. Miller, not too politely, requested Robert Weir to cut down the lamp supply to three per room. Interior Decorator Weir, concerned more with aesthetics than electricity, refused. Thereupon the disputants referred their disagreement to special Secret Service agent Michael Varinholt for arbitration. Imperturbably this official ruled that there was an excess of lamps, and perhaps some should be removed. In proper compromise fashion, Varinholt interpreted the word "excess" to mean fewer than eight lamps per room but more than two. This ended the Summit "Battle of the Lamps."

By 6 :30 P.M. on Saturday the Holly Bush beauty treatment was drawing to a close. Preparations had advanced far enough to give Sherwin Markman the feeling that it was safe for him to leave Glassboro for a night's respite at his Washington home. On a parting note the Presidential Assistant warned Phil Miller, "Make certain you get more light in the upstairs rooms, and let's have no power failures tomorrow!"

With the Markman warning words ringing in his ears, Mr. Miller made one last inspection trip of the Holly Bush rooms. In the process of checking air conditioners and light fixtures, he often paused to admire the magic Markman had wrought. Particularly impressive were the upstairs rooms on which Saturday's labors had been expended. Almost ruefully Mr. Miller later admitted that the beauty and arrangement of Robert Weir's furniture lent a "charming and homey atmosphere to the scene." Power Engineer Miller was especially impressed with the appearance of the Russian staff rooms. Here he saw thoughtful details such as newspapers and magazines neatly laid on tables–The New York Times, Philadelphia Inquirer, the New Republic, The Nation, Newsweek, and Sports Illustrated. At the top of the stair landing resting on a stand, Miller saw a copy of the National Review, with the cover caption, "Will L.B.J. Get Republican Votes?" In one of the Russian rooms, Mr. Miller also admired two bouquets of red and white carnations. In the other he examined a two-dozen bouquet of yellow roses, a gift to Premier Kosygin from Glassboro's Dorothy's Flower Shop. Pinned to the roses was a card reading, "May your visit with us be as memorable to you as it has been to us."

One of the Russian rooms had a detail that Phil Miller overlooked. Hanging on the wall encased in a picture frame was a copy of Rudyard Kipling's poem "If" with the line, "If you can keep your head when all about you are losing theirs….” Given the state of world tensions, many of Russia's and America's plain folk devoutly hoped that their leaders, in their Summit deliberations, gave heed to this thought.

Communications Adjustments

Saturday was no holiday for the Holly Bush reconverters. Nor was the interim period between the two Summit meetings a day of rest for communications workers. Determined to silence the incessant and captious demands of reporters for more phone connections, the Bell Telephone Company throughout Friday evening poured more men and equipment into Glassboro. All day Saturday Bell employees labored to establish additional phone circuits from Glassboro central headquarters to toll offices in Woodbury, Camden and Atlantic City, and many additional operators were assigned to the Atlantic City exchange. However, no increase in operator personnel was possible at the Camden and Woodbury toll centers, for the Friday meeting had found these, exchanges staffed by all the operators who could manipulate the switchboards. The Bell Company's Saturday efforts produced results the next day. At the Sunday session, press and network reporters had the use of 300 telephone circuits. Seasoned newsmen, not prone to bestow accolades, labeled the Bell Company's Sunday performance a "communication miracle."

Midnight Saturday found Bell Company employees still hard at work. Then another assignment came their way. Lieutenant Chester Williams of the White House communications staff placed a call to Bell Company official D. E. McCauley, informing him that, during the Johnson-Kosygin talks on Sunday, Lady Bird Johnson, her daughter Lynda Bird, Mrs. Lyudmila Gvishiani, and Mrs. Hughes planned to helicopter to the Hughes' summer home at Island Beach State Park. "Would it. be possible," asked "the communications officer, "for your company to lay a special telephone circuit from Glassboro to Island Beach?" Interviewed later, Mr. McCauley recalls giving an affirmative answer, but he also remembers an inaudible thought that flashed through his mind at the time, "Laying the circuit is possible, but it's the time available that is virtually impossible."

Fighting the tyrant time, Bell workers went into action. The circuit they laid went by a circuitous route: from Glassboro to Woodbury, from Woodbury to Camden, from Camden to Trenton, from Trenton to Ewing Township, from Ewing Township to Seaside Heights, and from there to the Hughes' summer home. Not until 9:30 A.M. Sunday was the task completed. As medicine for frayed nerves and aching muscles, Bell Telephone personnel later learned that the first words President Johnson uttered, when he alighted from his helicopter on Sunday morning, were, "Are the circuits to the beach in good working order?" He asked the same question while riding from the Athletic Field landing ground to the Holly Bush meeting site. It was apparent that the Chief Executive wanted instantaneous communication with his and the Premier's loved ones. Assuring the President that he would be able to contact Island Beach quickly gave Bell workmen a feeling that their Saturday night labor had been worthwhile.

Saturday was also a day used by communications people to rectify shortcomings in the television pictures transmitted from Holly Bush on Friday. On that day the video images appearing on screens throughout the country were of inferior quality. The pictures broke and rolled and were what the television people call "out of phase." Moreover, shortage of time for establishing separate microwave links led to a decision by the three major television networks to pool their facilities and send identical pictures over a single channel, which is a practice the highly competitive networks follow only on rare, emergency occasions. Responsible for the substandard Friday television performance were the lack of height in the eighty­ foot antenna supporting tower and the paucity of electric power supplied by the television vans' generators.

Saturday's labors corrected these flaws. Given an extra day of grace, workmen established six television microwave links, which gave the networks opportunities for using their own cameras to transmit individual picture shots of Holly Bush happenings. On Saturday, too, Bell Company employees erected, in back of Oak Hall Dormitory, a gigantic 130-foot tower, whose antennas gave greater opportunities for establishing lines of sight with receiving facilities in Philadelphia and Swedesboro. Television transmission was also improved by electric power which the Atlantic City Electric Company supplied, for on Saturday Power Engineer Phil Miller supervised the construction of a temporary power line from Route 322 to the television facilities in back of Oak Hall. Huge poles embedded in the college campus supported heavy wires and banks of trans­formers capable of stepping up electrical pressures to 480, 240, or 208 volts, whichever amounts the television people needed. Resort to the Atlantic City Electric's power supply meant, of course, that the generators in the television vans remained inactive, a shutdown which met with Sherwin Markman's complete approval. For on Saturday he had dispatched Phil Miller with a message to the television officials, ordering them to "stop the racket made by the generators; the noise is out of keeping with the quietness desired at Summit meetings."

The toil and sweat of Saturday paid rich dividends in the Sunday television performance. Pictures were sharp and clear on sets throughout the country. Especially gratifying were Holly Bush scenes flashed to 500 million people in twenty-five countries around the earth. Unfortunately Russia and her satellite nations withdrew from the "Our World" television show, giving as a reason the sponsor's attempt to "spoil the project's original humanitarian idea." Compensating for the Soviet withdrawal, however, was the fact that one of the show's top stars was Aleksei Kosygin, Premier of Russia, who had a date with Lyndon Johnson on Sunday afternoon.

Security Planning 

At 4:45 P.M. on the Friday of the first Holly Bush meeting, President Johnson had informed the assembled news media people, "We are inviting ourselves to return here at 1:30 on Sunday afternoon, and we will continue our discussions here then. And those of you that have Sunday afternoon off–we'll be glad to have you come, too." This was the casual remark that drew from New Jersey's Secretary of State Robert Burkhardt, standing near the Presidential podium, the whispered gasp, "Oh, no!" This involuntary exclamation was not loud enough to be picked up and transmitted by the microphone, but the President heard it. He gave Mr. Burkhardt a peculiar look as if to say; "What is wrong with inviting people to a meeting?"

Security men in hearing range of the President's blithe invitation also shuddered, for they realized immediately that their Sunday tasks would make the Friday assignment seem like standing guard at a Sunday-school picnic. For one thing, the President's invitation, combined with a work-free Sunday, meant much larger crowds with the danger of unruly demonstrators who would be given time to organize their forces for a visit to Glassboro. But security officials wasted little time engaging in introspective thoughts. Instead, they reacted characteristically to the new challenge by making quick decisions. State Police Colonel David Kelly, for example, decided to increase his force to 445 troopers, with 100 men ordered to stand by as a reserve contingent. This decision meant that state trooper protection was to be increased over Friday 's force by 215 men. Glassboro's Police Chief Everett Watson made plans to use 250 officers from Glassboro and thirteen neighboring communities. On Friday local police protection for guard duty and traffic control had consisted of 150 men from nine localities. Special Secret Service agents Michael Varinholt and Philip Struther reacted by determining to convert the college campus into an area resembling a western ghost town, cleared on Sunday of all people except those with important Summit duties. As a step in implementing this purpose, the Secret Service officials planned to cut drastically the issuance of orange-colored identification lapel badges, which served as tickets of admission to the campus. Getting one of these badges for Sunday's meeting turned out to be as difficult as securing tickets to the deciding baseball game of a world series.

At 7:00 on Saturday evening, security officials met in the Administration Building's auditorium to finalize plans. Among those present were Major Eugene Olaff of the State Police, special Secret Service agents Michael Varinholt and Phil Struther, and Walter Campbell, Glassboro's Business Manager. Major Olaff chaired the meeting and lost no time calling attention to Friday's security lapses, which included the flight of privately chartered helicopters over the Kosygin motorcade, the tendency of State Troopers on guard at the helicopter landing field to turn their heads from the crowds to catch glimpses of. the Presidential landing, and the tardiness in clearing and keeping clear the college campus. Major Olaff stressed the need for vigilence[sic] as the price of maximum protection. All agreed to support the Secret Service's touchy decision to restrict the number of identification badges given out. This was an agreement destined to disappoint local, state, and federal political figures, high industrial officials, and, as Dean of Instruction Stanton Langworthy soon learned, college faculty members. A decision was also reached to ring the old fifty-five acre portion of the college campus with a snowfence intended, with the aid of State Troopers, to keep all unauthorized personnel at a safe distance from the scene of the Summit activity.

As the security officials emerged from Holly Bush at the meeting's conclusion, they saw carloads of State Troopers pulling alongside of college dormitories. They also saw Glassboro Highway Department, State Highway, and Turnpike trucks loaded with fence, tools, and men getting ready to work throughout the hot night on Exercise "Snow Fence." These were clear-cut signs that the finishing touches were being placed in preparing for Act Two of the Holly Bush Summit Conference.

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