Backwoods Blog .184

BILL MOYERS

Backwoods Blog;

in the woods and on the road…

Bill Moyers (1934-2025)

Bill Moyers, renowned journalist, television correspondent and commentator died last week at the age of 91. When people think of PBS, Bill Moyers is often one of the first names that come to mind; be it his 1988 series with Joseph Campbell on “The Power of Myth,” 1999 interview with George Lucas on “The Mythology of Star Wars” or the several PBS series that he hosted; NOW with Bill Moyers (2002-2005), Bill Moyers Journal (2007-2010), Moyers & Company (2012-2015) and the Moyers On Democracy podcast. Bill Moyers’ focus on the history of American democracy along with its current and future challenges became one of the defining contributions of his work. Moyers held brief job-stints with commercial networks, but felt news was becoming more entertainment than journalism. He once remarked, “I just didn’t like the idea of selling dog food in a world where so many people were eating it.”

Early in his career he served as the White House Press Secretary and White House Chief of Staff during the Lyndon B. Johnson administration and the Great Society. One of his closest colleagues was Richard Goodwin who served as Johnson’s speechwriter. Years ago I purchased Goodwin’s autobiography “Remembering America” for one dollar in a bargain book bin (see Backwoods Blog #8 for more about that; click here https://backwoodsblog.com/2020/08/21/isolation-blues-8/). One of the memorable passages in the book is when Moyers and Goodwin have a meeting with President Johnson in the swimming pool. When I heard of Bill’s death, I went digging through my boxes of books to see if I could find Goodwin’s book and I did! I have included a portion of “the swimming pool meeting” in today’s remembrance of Bill.

May democracy survive the ills and short-sightedness of its participants.

One afternoon in early April of 1964 I went for a non-aerobic but historic swim. Bill Moyers, whose office sat just below mine in the spacious splendor (by government standards) once occupied by the departed Ted Sorensen, called me up. “Come on, Dick, the president wants to see us.”

“In his office?”

“Nope, in the pool. He’s swimming and so are we.”

“I don’t have a bathing suit.”

“You don’t need one.”

An involuntary pang over the fate of my only good business suit faded almost instantly as I realized I was being summoned for a skinny-dip.

Bill Moyers was at this point my closest friend and ally in government. A close association with Johnson, predating the Kennedy years, had elevated him from deputy director of the Peace Corps to the top level of the White House almost immediately upon Johnson’s accession. “You’re my number-one man,” I heard him tell Bill in my presence, then confiding after Moyers had left, “That boy’s like a son to me, even if he did go to work for those Kennedys.” More skillful than I in navigating the mine-strewn labyrinth of bureaucratic survival and advancement, he shared with me the romantic idealism of the true believer, became a staunch ally, a kindred spirit, in the internal struggles to shape enlightened domestic policies.

We entered the pool area to see the massive presidential flesh, a sun-bleached atoll breaching the placid sea, passing gently, sidestroke, the deep-cleft buttocks moving slowly past our unstartled gaze. Moby Dick, I thought, being naturally inclined to literary reference. “It’s like going swimming with a polar bear,” Moyers whispered, being of a more naturalistic bend. Without turning his body, Johnson called across the pool: “Come on in, boys. It’ll do you good.”

Johnson turned and the three of us slowly spiraled, paddling, around the circumference of the pool while the president began to reveal his reflections and intentions about the future of the country – the future of his leadership of the country…”Now, I’ve got two basic problems – get elected, and pass legislation the country needs. Kennedy had some good programs, but they were stalled in congress. I had to pull them out of the ditch. But it’s not enough to just pick up on the Kennedy program and try to do a better job. We’ve got to use it as a springboard to take on the Congress, summon the states to new heights, create a Johnson program, different in tone, fighting and aggressive. Hell, we’ve barely begun to solve our problems. And we can do it all. We have the wherewithal. There’s nothing we can’t do, if the masses are behind us. And they will be, if they think we’re behind them. Everyone, deep down, wants something a little better for their children, everybody wants to leave a mark, something they can be proud of. And so do I. You too, Bill, and you, Dick. Well now here’s your chance. I never thought I’d have the power. Now, some men, like Nixon, want power so they can strut around to “Hail to the Cheif’; some like Connally, want it to make money; I want power to use it. And I’m going to use it. And use it right if you boys will help me.

Suspended almost motionless in the water, oblivious to the incongruity of my nakedness, I felt Johnson’s immense vitality – intense, forceful, direct – focused on my receptive mind…Johnson broke from our small triangle, paddled toward the far end of the pool, turned. “Now, boys, you let me finish the Kennedy program. You start to put together a Johnson program, and don’t worry whether it’s too radical or if Congress is ready for it. That’s my job…The only presidents they haven’t attacked are the presidents who haven’t done a damn thing, like Coolidge. They sure let FDR and Truman have it. Ike was a war hero, all he had to do was smile, and he got away with real murder. They let Kennedy have it too. He became a great hero only after his death; he was not one on his way to Texas.”

The swim was over. As we followed Johnson out of the pool, standing there on the cool stone, toweling or water-wrinkled bodies, Johnson mused softy, facing the blank, unresponsive stillness of the deserted water: “They’re trying to get me in a war over there: It will destroy me. I turned them down three times last week.” Where? I wondered silently. Not Cuba. Laos or Vietnam, perhaps. But it didn’t matter. We had other, more important work to do. We had a mandate, an assignment, which within two months would enter public life as the Great Society.

In the woods,

Dave

July 1, 2025