Master of the Senate
Review 9: The Thrill of Battle

"Master of the Senate" is the third book in Robert A. Caro's series, "The Years of Lyndon Johnson." For exactly one more Friday, Flak will explore its numerous pages. Tune in next week for the rousing finish.

The penultimate sweep of "Master of the Senate" is an account of Johnson's heroic efforts to craft a civil rights bill strong enough to truly improve the rights of American blacks — while avoiding the Southern filibuster, a threat that lingered over the proceedings like the threat of nuclear war lingers over the hills of Kashmir.

At times, the majority leader's straining to reach compromise between two implacable foes reads like a play-by-play documentary of Sisyphus in the afterworld. Southern states wanted a jury trial amendment to the bill that would provide blacks with the right to vote, meaning that Southern juries would enforce the application of the law. And Southern juries were not famed for their respect of civil rights. Northern states demanded that no such provision be included, courting a filibuster in the process.

And if the South resorted to its ultimate weapon, it would guarantee the bill's death, the destruction of Johnson's presidential ambitions, and a Republican political victory. The GOP would be remembered as the side that fought hard for civil rights while the Southerners wrecked all hope.

Caro, writing with the skill and timing of a master screenwriter, makes the developments in the convoluted battle ring with drama. Johnson's down — he's in the hole, it's hopeless. Then — a ray of light. A provision is added. A few more Senators come on board, and he has a new platform to argue from. A stray remark from a labor leader, relayed to Johnson third-hand in a daily memorandum, gets blown up into a public statement that splits the labor vote and narrows the margin of the count by three. Johnson is down, down, down — never out.

And if Caro plays up the drama of Johnson's entirely improbable comeback, he also documents it with a skill almost unparalleled among historians. Perhaps only Barbara Tuchman, the author of "Guns of August," matches Caro's ability to render the murk and muck of complicated decisions with real clarity. Both Caro and Tuchman are able to capture both the small details upon which day-to-day events turned, and the overall strokes of momentum that determined the course of history. But if Caro displays the fog of war reigning over the Senate, he also tempers it with a picture of one man, acting both as liberal paladin and racist defender of the Old South, a bridge between two radically different worlds.

The most remarkable thing about Caro's story of the jury trial amendment is that it's nearly impossible to get through without wanting to know what's going on in the US Senate right now. Are there still orators like Frank Church of Idaho, stumping passionately for causes out of conviction? Are there still determined powerbrokers like Lyndon Johnson? Liberals blinded with idealism like Paul Douglas of Illinois, or conservatives blinded by ignorant, stubborn hate, like James Eastland of Mississippi?

One assumes that there must be, and while it's easy to summon up some Senatorial cartoon characters — the mustache-twirling villains like Jesse Helms, the clueless lefties like Paul Wellstone — its hard to remember what they've really fought for, and how they've done it. But so rarely does current American political journalism capture the true consequences of the Senate's arguments — and the human impact of new laws — that it's easy to forgive those who would say that Capitol Hill is a barren place.

All too often, American political journalism aims for one of two targets: The expert, already familiar with all the nuances of process and well-acquainted with the players, needing only the dirty detail and statistical nuances; and the novice, ignorant of even basic legislative procedure and only passingly familiar with five or six Senators — at best.

Granted, Caro has had a luxury no journalist can afford: He's had decades to interview every player, scour every record, and put together a picture as close to whole as we're likely to ever see. But at the same time, even contemporary political journalists, blinded by the dazzle of day-to-day events and ignorant of so much of the backroom dealing that still determines the passage of laws, could change their tone. They could write at a level often found at Slate, or in the best offerings of the New Yorker: articles that capture the sweep of an issue, or a political bloc, or a key power broker, while enfolding enough raw detail to have real punch — and let readers come to their own conclusions.

As "Master of the Senate" makes the rounds of politicians and political observers, perhaps — and this is a something of an idle, naïve, wishful "perhaps" — it will change the way both players and fans process, understand, and talk about politics.

Debate and compromise, the two gloriously unsexy pillars of true-blue, effective American politics, are wrapped up in something gorgeous by the versatile Caro.

Unwrap his present, you jaded sons-of-bitches!

— James Norton (jrnorton@flakmag.com)

— Juliette Crane (cran0066 at hotmail dot com)