L. Patrick Hughes, Austin Community College

While the bashing of Lyndon Johnson began over a quarter century ago with the publication of J. Evetts Haley’s A Texan Looks at Lyndon: A Study in Illegitimate Power in 1964, no other biographer has sold more books, received more praise for his writing skills, and yet been the target of more negative critical reviews than journalist Robert A. Caro. Beginning with The Path to Power in 1982 and continuing with Means of Ascent in 1990, he sketches a one-sided portrait arguing that the central motivation of Johnson’s life was an unquenchable thirst for power. According to Caro, it was "...a hunger for power in its most naked form, for power not to improve the lives of others but to manipulate and dominate them, to bend them to his will." On the altar of power, he sacrificed allies, ideology, and conscience. By 1941, after four years in the House of Representatives and an unsuccessful race for the Senate, Johnson, in the author’s view, had "...displayed a genius for discerning a path to power, an utter ruthlessness in destroying obstacles in his path, and a seemingly bottomless capacity for deceit, deception, and betrayal in moving along it." While willing to grudgingly concede that Johnson’s ambition sometimes produced benefits for his constituents, Caro argues that it was power for power’s sake that motivated the young congressman.

An examination of Lyndon Johnson’s relationship between 1937 and 1939 with Tom Miller, the powerful New Deal mayor of Austin who refused to support his bid in a special election to replace deceased incumbent James P. "Buck" Buchanan, reveals a more complex and multifaceted figure than that portrayed by Caro. After his victory over a multitude of better known candidates, Johnson, rather than moving to crush and punish Miller for his opposition, worked tirelessly to cooperate with and represent the irascible mayor and Austinites in Washington, D. C. Over the next two and one-half years he and Miller reconciled with one another and forged an alliance that would last decades despite numerous obstacles and crises.

The young congressman, as would any politician, was unquestionably interested in solidifying and furthering his political position and Miller’s attitude and actions would be important in determining how long Johnson might serve in Congress. Equally important, however, Johnson went to remarkable lengths to work effectively with Miller because it was necessary to serve the needs of the citizens he would represent in Congress. So like the fiery mayor temperamentally, Johnson exercised patience and restraint in his dealings with Miller and quickly used his congressional position to transform life in Texas’ Tenth Congressional District. At one level, the Johnson-Miller relationship is an example of the reconciliation process so crucial to all elected officials. At a deeper level, it is the story of Johnson’s ambition but ambition coupled with a determination to work within the existing political system to use the power of government to improve constituents’ lives and develop the resources of Central Texas.

While Lyndon Johnson would eventually wield more power than Tom Miller could have ever imagined, the mayor was the more powerful figure in early 1937. A life-long resident of the capital city where he was born in 1893, he attended its public schools and briefly studied at the University of Texas. Miller soon dropped out and joined his father’s produce and cotton business. After his father’s death in 1916, he, along with brother James and associate Freeman Taylor, parlayed $750 in capital borrowed from businessman E. H. Perry into a thriving and constantly expanding business. Functioning initially as a cotton broker, Miller quickly diversified. By the early 1930s when he turned to municipal politics, the business sold leather hides to several large shoe companies in New England, distributed up to 15 percent of the state’s pecan crop, and marketed Texas turkeys around the nation. From there, he branched out into real estate ventures and many other profitable investments.

While continuing his business pursuits, Miller turned to municipal politics in 1931 at the urging of Colonel Andrew Zilker, who was dissatisfied with the performance of City Manager Adam Johnson. Defeated in his initial run for the Austin City Council, he won in 1933 on a slate known as the "People’s Ticket." At its first meeting following the election, the new City Council unanimously selected Miller to serve as mayor, a position he held without break until 1949 when he briefly retired from politics. Mayor and council quickly named Guiton Morgan city manager and set out to limit and reverse the Great Depression’s impact on Austin utilizing financial resources available in Washington, D.C., where Franklin Roosevelt was launching the New Deal. With Miller at the forefront, the entire council enjoyed much success and won reelection without opposition in both 1935 and 1937. His selection as a director of both the Austin Chamber of Commerce and the American National Bank reflected his growing influence with Austin’s politically-active business community. By the time word spread of Congressman Buchanan’s death, Mayor Miller wielded significant power in the capital city and various observers floated his name as a possible replacement for Buchanan.

By contrast, Lyndon Johnson was a little-known administrator in Franklin Roosevelt’s governmental bureaucracy. Born and raised in the Texas Hill Country west of Austin, he had learned his early political lessons from his father who had served in the Texas Legislature alongside Sam Rayburn and who remained politically active long after leaving office. While still a student at Southwest Texas State Teachers College in San Marcos, young Johnson played a significant role in Welly Hopkin’s successful campaign for the state Senate. When Richard Kleberg won election in 1931 to fill the vacancy created by the sudden death of Congressman Harry M. Wurzbach, the political services of both father and son resulted in Lyndon’s appointment as Kleberg’s administrative secretary in the nation’s capital. Distinguishing himself in this capacity and developing many influential connections, he applied for and won appointment as the Texas state director of President Roosevelt’s newly-created National Youth Administration (NYA) in 1935. For 18 months Johnson committed himself and the exceptional staff he recruited to assisting the youth of the state with the relatively meager funds at his disposal.

Johnson’s commitment to working within the existing political system to improve people’s lives, even if it jeopardized a governmental career just begun, first evidenced itself during his years at the NYA. While moving as quietly as possible to avoid attracting public attention, he worked to guarantee that a portion of the federal funds at his disposal for work-study and skills training programs reached black Texans. Given the racial realities of Texas in the 1930s, such a policy gained Johnson little politically in the state while it risked the wrath of many whites. Various laws and practices prevented blacks from exercising significant political influence but whites, who might well resent his efforts, could demand and force Johnson’s resignation. Given these realities, the state director’s actions, which might doom any future campaign for elective office if publicized, reveal something other than the pursuit of power for power’s sake.

Nonetheless, few Austinites would have regarded Johnson and Miller as equals when the scramble for Buchanan’s seat began. Johnson was a newcomer to Austin whose service with the NYA had built little name recognition among the voters. A native of the least populated county on the outermost fringe of the Tenth District, Johnson was at best a long shot to replace Buchanan.

Discounting Johnson’s chances and declining to run himself, Mayor Miller rejected repeated solicitations by Johnson and his intermediaries for support and threw in his lot with C. N. Avery, prominent Austin businessman who had served for 25 years as Buchanan’s campaign manager and assistant. While the Johnson camp certainly felt it faced the full weight of Miller’s opposition and various biographers including Robert Caro have accepted such a view, a review of the Austin American’s coverage of the campaign raises questions about the strength of Miller’s commitment to Avery. The mayor’s name appears in none of Avery’s advertisements in the newspaper nor in the flyers the candidate mailed to potential supporters. No mention is made of any Miller speeches in Avery’s behalf, including his final rally at Wooldridge Park the night before the election. While he refused to support Johnson because he felt the young candidate had little, if any, chance of winning, Miller’s backing of Avery appears to have been perfunctory. Most likely, the mayor could not be certain of an Avery victory given the crowded field of eight active candidates and refused to unalterably alienate any of them.

Hard work, good timing, and an exceptional game plan produced Johnson’s stunning upset victory. While others pondered their chances and deferred to Buchanan’s widow, who was contemplating asking voters to allow her to serve out the remainder of her husband’s term, Johnson declared he was in the race to stay regardless of Mrs. Buchanan’s decision. Hitting the campaign trail long before any of his eventual rivals, he worked harder, longer, and more effectively than the competition for the next six weeks without a single break. He sought out those who wielded political influence throughout the district, securing their support more often than not. But Johnson set himself apart from the competition by his willingness to go to any lengths to reach individual voters. He crisscrossed the district day after day searching them out where they lived and worked to make his case.

Most important, Johnson won because of his game plan. Campaign manager Claude Wild, Sr., laid one cornerstone of the campaign when he convinced Johnson that victory lay in running across the entire district rather than concentrating on a single county or area as most of the other candidates were likely to do. Wild thought that if Johnson could just run second to each of his opponents in their respective areas of strength, he could amass a plurality sufficient to win the special election. Any counties that Johnson could actually carry would simply add to his margin of victory.

Alvin Wirtz provided the other cornerstone of the Johnson effort. At the time of Buchanan’s death, President Franklin Roosevelt’s proposal to reorganize the federal judiciary absorbed the nation. The court bill, while logical from the president’s perspective given the institutional obstacle the Supreme Court represented to the New Deal, had nonetheless ignited a firestorm of criticism. Members of the president’s own party, including many influential Texans, abandoned him on the issue and worked to engineer congressional defeat of the proposal. Looking at Roosevelt’s impressive popularity with Central Texas voters, Alvin Wirtz, general counsel for the Lower Colorado River Authority and a Johnson mentor, counseled an all-out endorsement of the president and his controversial court proposal. As Charles Marsh’s Austin newspapers began trumpeting the need for voters to support FDR with the eyes of the nation on Central Texas, Johnson did so immediately and forcefully. The strategy gave Johnson the name recognition he desperately needed, linked him to the incredibly popular Roosevelt, set him apart from the rest of the crowded field, improved his prospects of attracting the support of New Dealers in Texas and Washington, D. C., and set the tone of the entire campaign. More than anything else, Central Texas voters saw the election as an opportunity to endorse the president in his time of need. Johnson, the most vigorous and consistent supporter of the president in the election, rode Roosevelt’s coattails to victory across the district and triumphed over the mayor and Avery in the capital city.

Political considerations have always created unique and unlikely alliances; the Miller-Johnson relationship was no exception. Austin voters, Mayor Miller’s constituency and collective boss, had chosen Johnson over Avery and others to fill Buchanan’s vacated seat. A Miller refusal to work with Johnson would not only reflect poor sportsmanship, it would risk alienation of his own electorate. While the mayor had demonstrated a mastery of Austin municipal politics over the preceding four years, there had always been opposition to either the man or his policies. Any feud with the new congressman might intensify that opposition and hand his foes the issue on which to launch a full-scale electoral challenge in 1939. Should the congressman of the Tenth District throw his support to such an uprising, even Tom Miller would be hard pressed to weather the assault.

The situation’s political possibilities were even clearer and more immediate for Johnson. While Johnson headed to Washington as the new representative of the Tenth District, the majority of voters participating in the special election had cast their ballots for one of the other candidates. Only the nature of Texas special elections, which required nothing more than a plurality, allowed him to assume office having garnered but 27 percent of the ballots cast. The absence of a runoff requirement and the crowded field had minimized the mayor’s impact. In a regular primary, such as Johnson would face in just 15 months, where a clear majority was necessary for victory, Miller’s all-out support of another candidate could mean the difference between victory and defeat. Furthermore, the prospect of a Miller candidacy in 1938, before Johnson could firmly entrench himself in his new seat, was also a real possibility. Speculation had abounded before the 1937 election that Miller would be a candidate and Miller had discussed the possibility with various potential backers before finally deciding to support Avery. Now that Miller had fulfilled his obligation to Avery, the mayor might decide to make the race himself in 1938. If he could secure a solid vote in Austin, Johnson’s tenure might be brief.

Johnson thus realized that Miller’s conversion into an ally would help solidify his hold on his congressional seat and the power of the office. Power notwithstanding, effective government demanded reconciliation. Austinites were less concerned in 1937 with the political status and futures of the congressman and mayor than in their ability to deal with the needs and problems of the city and its residents. To be successful in the fulfillment of their respective responsibilities, neither Johnson nor Miller, both intent on using the power of their offices to improve the lives of their constituents, could afford a prolonged estrangement from the other. Indeed, it was incumbent that they work productively with one another.

During his first two terms as mayor, Miller had enjoyed relative success in securing funds and services for an Austin caught in the midst of the Great Depression through the good offices of Congressman Buchanan in Washington, D. C. While the Depression had eased somewhat in Austin by 1937, the city still needed and wanted assistance from the federal government. As mayor, Miller could thus ill afford any vendetta that could well cause the pipeline carrying New Deal largesse to run dry. From Johnson’s perspective, the necessity of a productive relationship was no less real. As the dominant official of the largest city in the Tenth District, Miller could be an ally of inestimable worth in serving Austinites or an implacable enemy who could covertly frustrate any Johnson efforts. Should the latter situation develop, many voters might hold both men accountable and cast their ballots accordingly in the future.

A number of prominent Austin political figures friendly to both Miller and Johnson also served to draw the two adversaries together following the special election. Governor James V. Allred, Secretary of State Ed Clark, Lower Colorado River Authority Chief Counsel Alvin Wirtz, veteran campaign strategist Claude Wild, publisher Charles Marsh, and businessman Edgar H. Perry had all agreed to support Johnson, officially or unofficially, when approached by the candidate immediately following Congressman Buchanan’s death. The decision of these personal or philosophical allies of the mayor to back the youthful state director of the NYA may well have been the crucial reason Miller chose not to make the race. In a very real sense, the heart of the local power structure decided Johnson could best serve the city in Washington and Miller could best serve the city and its residents as mayor. Now the natural desire of the team was for peace and effective representation in both capitols. A refusal to reconcile by either Miller or Johnson would risk the displeasure of their common supporters, the loss of whose political backing could be disastrous.

The needs of an even larger team made reconciliation more than just a personal matter between Tom Miller and Lyndon Johnson. As Congress delayed a vote on the court bill and the president faced open rebellion within the ranks of the Democratic party, he could ill afford a bitter feud between two members of his troops in Texas. Too many influential Texans including John Nance Garner, Hatton Sumners, and Tom Connally had already abandoned him; those loyal to the president had to be united. Given the circumstances, fidelity to Roosevelt encouraged Miller and Johnson to work out their differences.

All other considerations aside, Lyndon Johnson would have voluntarily and aggressively sought reconciliation with Tom Miller. Again and again throughout his long career, he reached out to those who had opposed him in the past. The conversion of opponents has been a driving force for politicians since politics began. Johnson, however, became an absolute master of the process. According to friend and Brown and Root lobbyist Frank "Posh" Oltorf, he felt that only those who didn’t really know him could oppose him. Invariably, he sought to make them members of the team. "Johnson was always ready for a reconciliation for anyone." Following Johnson’s initial electoral victory, he courted the opponents he had just defeated and successfully built a larger base of supporters.

As an elected official, Johnson certainly wished to convert opponents to further his career and the power he wielded. But it involved his idea of representation as well. He wanted to represent all of his constituents, not just those who voted for him. Robert Phinney, a supporter from the earliest days, commented years later on his and other supporters’ astonishment at this attitude.

Rather than moving ruthlessly to crush such an opponent, Johnson worked at reconciliation. Failing to convert an opponent, he represented the individual nonetheless.

Despite Johnson’s preference for and skills at converting opponents, reconciliation with Tom Miller might be especially difficult. Again and again people associated with him politically over many years maintain that without question he was the best mayor Austin ever had. His love for the city knew no limits and he gave unsparingly his time and energies serving its needs and interests as he saw them. In the very next breath, however, these same associates characterize him as one of the most difficult people in the entire world with whom to get along. Such intimates describe him in retrospect as "temperamental", "domineering", "high-strung", as well as prone to "fly off the handle and get mad" and "take affront and insult where none was meant." Since Johnson shared so many of these traits, reconciliation would require that he keep the excesses of his own personality in check and use tact and forbearance when dealing with the mayor.

It wasn’t just Miller’s temperament that would make reconciliation difficult to achieve and maintain however. By 1937 Tom Miller was already accustomed to being the dominant political force in Austin and was more than willing to flex his muscle when necessary to get his way. Ed Clark, who represented various utilities, banks, and real estate interests before Miller city councils for two decades, reminisced that the mayor had been a "benevolent dictator."

The kind of power Clark described was far from imaginary but it came from Miller the man rather than the formal powers of the position he held. Given Austin’s council-manager system of government, Miller was at best "first among equals" in formal power. Councilmembers selected one of their own number to serve as mayor and he served at their pleasure. Fellow councilmembers could replace him at any time they became dissatisfied with his performance. While he chaired council meetings, he had but one voice in council deliberations and but one vote in its decisions. The city charter denied oversight responsibility of the municipal bureaucracy to the mayor in favor of a city manager. Miller dominated Austin politics by investing far more time at City Hall than any of his colleagues, making the most of the symbolic functions of his position, and maximizing the value of his close working relationship with long-time City Manager Guiton Morgan. Regardless of how he got the power, he acted like the Caesar of Austin politics because, as one fellow councilman said, "He was Caesar."

Juggling the needs of the Tenth District’s diverse and conflicting constituencies would also complicate Johnson’s relationship with Tom Miller, who placed Austin’s interests above all others. Austin might be the largest city in the district but it didn’t contain most, much less all, of the new congressman’s constituents. The majority were farmers and ranchers spread out across the rural expanse of 10 Central Texas counties whose interests were far from identical with those residing in the state capital. Agreement was possible on certain goals. The taming of the Colorado River through the construction of a series of hydroelectric dams, for instance, served the needs of both groups for jobs, flood control and electrical power. Other issues, however, threatened to drive a wedge between the two camps. Mayor Miller’s limitless love for and devotion to Austin heightened this natural tension within the district. Given his focus and personality, Miller was likely to resent Johnson’s efforts for other constituents and feel that any benefits they received were at the expense of his constituents. Satisfying Miller and Austinites on the one side and rural residents on the other would call for diplomacy.

Despite the many obstacles and pressures which worked to pit them against each other, the forces pushing for and the benefits to be gained from reconciliation were too great for either man to ignore. Neither synonymous nor incompatible, the political ambition of both officials and their shared belief that government could and should improve people’s lives now converged. Accordingly, the process of drawing together began even as the special election drew to a close.

Mayor Miller’s efforts to forge a more positive relationship with Johnson may well have commenced even before the voters of the Tenth District had had a chance to cast their ballots. According to campaign finance reports filled out and submitted by Ray Lee, Miller contributed $100 to the Johnson campaign on April 9^th, the day before the election. The date of the contribution is open to question; Lee may have simply been mistaken about the date or may have backdated the gift to meet legal requirements. Whether or not the contribution occurred just before or just after the election makes little difference in terms of the Miller-Johnson relationship. The mayor, like others who had backed losing candidates, was moving as quickly as possible to heal whatever wounds the campaign had inflicted. Such contributions were important to Johnson, who had spent unprecedented sums in his quest of the House seat. They were even more important however to the contributors who wished to signal their willingness to work with their new representative and insure their access to him to plead political causes in the future.

The process of reconciliation began in earnest once election officials tallied the ballots. Both Miller and Johnson pictured the election as a great victory for Franklin Roosevelt, the New Deal, and, most important, an endorsement by Central Texas voters of the president’s controversial court reorganization proposal. Such a characterization was certainly warranted by the facts. More important, such a depiction of the results afforded both Miller and Johnson the chance to capitalize on a unique opportunity. The mayor could portray the election results as a demonstration of Austinites’ love for President Roosevelt, potential leverage in his battles for greater New Deal funding for Austin projects of all kinds. The congressman-elect also realized the potentialities of the situation. Having fought successfully for the administration in the first election since the introduction of the court bill, Johnson might well enjoy extraordinary influence within the constantly-expanding federal bureaucracy among which he had numerous friends. Johnson was in a unique position to become more than just another relatively obscure and powerless freshman in Congress.

Mayor Miller telephoned James A. Farley in Washington, D. C., Saturday night as soon as the outcome was clear. The Postmaster General and national chairman of the Democratic party had visited Austin just three weeks earlier when he spoke before the Texas Legislature in support of President Roosevelt’s court plan. While he had expressed no preference for any particular candidate in the congressional race, he had urged voters to elect a pro-FDR candidate. Farley now expressed "keen satisfaction" at Miller’s message that voters had given President Roosevelt a strong vote of confidence in selecting Johnson, the most vigorous and vocal exponent of the president and judicial reorganization. The mayor left unmentioned that Johnson had defeated Miller’s candidate. As the bearer of good news, the mayor stood to place himself on the winning side. From his hospital bed in Seton Infirmary, recovering from an emergency appendectomy operation, a triumphant Johnson told local reporters, "I take the results of this election, not as a tribute to myself, but as a vote of confidence in President Roosevelt and his entire program."

Mayor Miller, who had always enjoyed significant support from the pro-New Deal Austin newspapers and who regularly helped Bill Weeg edit his stories on City Council action before publication, now found an important ally in putting the best possible interpretation on the election results. Readers of the Sunday edition of the Austin American-Statesman thus found out that "Pres. Roosevelt won overwhelming endorsement of Travis County voters, and Lyndon Johnson, most ardent champion of his court plan, won a three-to-two lead over Polk Shelton, anti-court plan candidate, in the 10,124 votes of the county reported Saturday night." Coverage of the results omitted any mention of Miller’s backing of Avery in the election just passed much less a discussion of why, with Miller’s supposed support, Avery had finished no better than third in Travis County. Instead, FDR had won a great victory through Lyndon Johnson and all New Dealers, including, by inference, Tom Miller.

As the new week began Mayor Miller "moved into Mr. Johnson’s bedroom just as fast as he could." Planners of a testimonial dinner for Johnson to be held before his departure for Washington, D. C., found Miller more than willing to serve as toastmaster for the occasion. He could thus publicly signal to Johnson and others in Austin how pleased he was to have Johnson representing the city in the nation’s capitol. While the dinner was never held because of Johnson’s continuing hospitalization, Miller nonetheless got his opportunity to align himself with Johnson publicly.

On Tuesday, April 13, the congressman-elect asked Miller to testify before the Senate Judiciary Committee which was conducting public hearings on Roosevelt’s court plan. L. L. James of Tyler, who had campaigned in Texas against the proposal, had just testified before the committee that Johnson’s election was in no way evidence of public support for the court plan. Unable to counter the assertion in person because of his illness, Johnson turned to Miller. Would Miller be willing to testify in Johnson’s stead? The mayor left Austin by train the next morning. In Washington he told the senators that the court issue had dominated the campaign from start to finish and that Johnson was now a member of Congress because he had been the earliest and most vigorous supporter of the president’s position. Austin newspapers promptly passed on to readers the story of Miller’s service to Roosevelt and Johnson as well as his conviction that despite opposition Congress would eventually enact Roosevelt’s proposal.

Dan Quill, postmaster in San Antonio and a Johnson intimate dating back to the early 1930s, could not believe the speed with which the Miller-Johnson reconciliation commenced. Quill had been active in the special election just completed and was convinced that limiting the mayor’s impact in Austin had been a key to victory. On Tuesday, April 13, he was in Congressman Richard Kleberg’s office in Washington when a telegram from the congressman-elect arrived informing Sam Houston Johnson, Lyndon’s brother and Kleberg’s secretary, of Mayor Miller’s impending arrival in the capital and instructing him to give him all the privileges and courtesies of the office. "This was about three days after we just got through beating him, and I said, ‘I’ll tell you, Washington is a pretty big town, but it’s not big enough for Tom Miller and me at the same time,’ so I came back home." Years later Quill stated that in all his years in politics he had never seen anyone as successful as Lyndon Johnson at working with and converting past enemies into important friends and allies.

Reconstruction of Austin Dam, the remnants of which had lain in ruins for some 20 years, however, was the the crucial episode in the formation of the Miller-Johnson alliance. The vision of a dam spanning the Colorado River had dominated the dreams of civic leaders dating back to the capital’s founding in the 1830s. Such a structure would help control the floods which periodically swept down the river, generate the power deemed crucial to the economic development of the region, and create a dependable reservoir of drinking water vital to any growing city. The vision had briefly become reality in 1893 when workers finished construction of a barrier of massive blocks of native red granite. Weakened almost immediately by erosion, the center section of the span had given way when floodwaters inundated Austin in April 1900. Repeated floods and various financial and legal problems frustrated subsequent city efforts to reconstruct the facility over the next 30 years.

Miller and council created the Citizens’ Advisory Committee, a blue ribbon commission headed by E. H. Perry, to help deal with the authority. Several years of negotiations by Miller, council and committee failed to produce an agreement. The authority was understandably reluctant to expend its precious funds reconstructing a facility it did not own or control. The City of Austin, convinced that the dam was crucial to the continued operation of its municipally-owned utility system which funded various city services, refused LCRA purchase offers. City and authority were thus at an impasse as Johnson assumed his seat in Congress.

Having committed himself publicly and finding all of his efforts to resolve the Austin Dam quandary frustrated, Miller turned to his new congressman for assistance. In a letter dated May 21, 1937, informing Johnson that the Austin City Council and the Citizens’ Advisory Committee meeting in joint session had just voted unanimously to reject the LCRA’s proposal and to seek separate funding from the PWA, Mayor Miller set forth the price of reconciliation and future support: "...I have no ambition to be congressman from the Tenth District, and I will support you next year if you use the ability I know you possess for your district." The implication was clear. Miller would give up whatever congressional ambitions he might harbor and become a member of the Johnson team if the congressman could somehow obtain the funding required to reconstruct his precious Austin Dam. Any question about the importance of the dam to Austinites vanished in the avalanche of mail from influential Austin leaders such as benefactor E. H. Perry, Chamber of Commerce President Goodall H. Wooten, banker Walter Bremond, Jr., and others in subsequent days all echoing the same theme.

While Johnson responded immediately to Miller, Perry, and others with assurances that he would work for separate funding if no deal with LCRA was possible, he now found himself in the unenviable position of being asked to take sides between two of the most powerful political forces in the district with the benefits for all Central Texans of Austin Dam hanging in the balance. Alvin Wirtz, architect of the LCRA who now served as its general counsel, had provided the strategy that Johnson had ridden to victory and had secured crucial start-up funds for the campaign. E. H. Perry’s financial support had given Johnson’s campaign viability and reconciliation with Miller was pivotal for Johnson’s political future. Rural residents of the Tenth District, long ignored by private utilities, looked to the authority to provide them with electricity for the first time ever and Austinites looked to Miller to deliver upon his promise. A consensus builder by nature all of his political life, Congressman Johnson thus determined to serve all of his constituents and to protect and further himself politically by negotiating a compromise satisfactory to Miller and Austin, to Wirtz and the LCRA, and to the Public Works Administration.

After preliminary conversations with subordinate officials, Mayor Miller and Johnson met with Harold Ickes, head of the Public Works Administration, on May 26, only five days after the mayor’s initial letter on the subject. Miller argued that Austin simply couldn’t afford to surrender title to the partially functional dam; it was too important and integral a part of the city’s municipally-owned utility system. Ickes, however, refused to budge. Already concerned about LCRA’s ability to repay PWA loans financing the construction of Buchanan and Marshall Ford Dams further upriver, he couldn’t see granting funds to another governmental entity that would be in competition with LCRA for sales of electricity and would lessen the authority’s ability to repay its existing debts. If Miller wanted PWA funds for the reconstruction of Austin Dam, it would have to be through an arrangement with LCRA.

Ickes’ refusal to consider separate funding forced Miller to renew negotiations with the authority. This time, however, the new congressman was an active participant. Within 48 hours he engineered a compromise that seemingly met Ickes’ requirements and satisfied both sides. The City of Austin agreed to lease the site to the LCRA for a period of 30 years in return for a $20,000 annual rental to be paid in electricity generated rather than in cash. At the end of the lease, the city could repurchase the rebuilt dam at cost less depreciation. Under the arrangement, Austin retained title to the facility and the authority would recover its costs of rebuilding should the city decide to retake possession at the end of the lease.

Praise for Johnson now flowed from both camps. Fritz Engelhard, director of the LCRA, wrote to Johnson that he had performed admirably while caught in the ticklish and unenviable position between the two political forces and that the authority was completely satisfied. Miller and E. H. Perry wrote saying, "our newly-elected Congressman rendered the city of Austin a great service in effecting a satisfactory and mutually agreeable lease arrangement between the City of Austin and the Colorado River Association." In a letter informing Johnson of City Council ratification of the deal on July 15, 1937, Miller stated, "the negotiations probably could not have been effected without your assistance."

When Johnson announced later in July that he had secured $5 million in supplemental federal funds needed to construct an even higher dam at Marshall Ford needed to better control flooding problems downriver, Miller came as close as he ever would to admitting he had made a mistake in backing Avery earlier in the year. On July 19, 1937, he wrote:

Equally important to the new congressman as this expression of satisfaction, the mayor gave Johnson a reading of the political situation which made clear Miller’s future support: "I see no clouds on your political horizon today, nor do I see any signs of any storm next July."

Problems quickly developed, however, at the PWA. Assistant General Counsel Carl F. Farbach raised objections, questioning Austin’s legal authority under its city charter to lease the structure. Critical of the wording of the proposed document which might dissuade potential buyers of the bonds, he further argued that the deal was too favorable to the city. LCRA officials responded that while the deal could have been better, the authority would make money on the proposed lease and it couldn’t afford to have Austin somehow rebuild and control the dam. Johnson again intervened on his powerful constituents’ behalf. Writing directly to Harold Ickes, the congressman warned that, if the the deal fell through because of excessive caution by the PWA, Austin would issue bonds and reconstruct the dam itself. This would deprive the authority of the profits it could realize from Austin Dam as well as its largest potential consumer of electricity.

At Johnson’s urging, Farbach met with representatives of the city and the authority in Austin in early September to iron out the problems. All parties accepted refinements of the lease’s language and the City of Austin agreed to submit a charter revision to local voters specifically authorizing the lease of the dam. While Johnson would have to continue the political struggle for sparse PWA dollars several months longer, the last legal barrier fell on January 4, 1938, when Austin voters overwhelmingly approved the charter amendment. Johnson’s announcement from Washington on May 2, 1938, that the PWA had granted final approval of a $2.3 million loan to rebuild Austin Dam and that actual work could commence brought to fruition the long-frustrated dreams of Austinites. From that day forward Austinites have referred to the structure as Tom Miller Dam and, as far as the general public ever knew, Tom Miller was an enthusiastic supporter of Lyndon Johnson.

Johnson proved such a successful representative for Central Texas in part because he applied for virtually everything FDR’s New Deal had to offer and worked quicker, harder, and longer than most congressmen. Such was certainly the case following congressional passage of the Wagner-Stegall Bill in 1937 to improve housing conditions nationwide. Under the program, the United States Housing Authority (USHA) made long-term loans to local governments to finance the construction of public housing units. The pursuit of such funds for Austin’s disadvantaged citizens, including racial minorities, enhanced and cemented the emerging Johnson-Miller alliance. Just as significant, it reflected Johnson’s commitment to an activist government that sought to improve people’s lives even when significant opposition had to be overcome and the beneficiaries of such efforts wielded little or no political influence. Still, Johnson accepted the realities of the times and how far he could go; any public housing projects he could secure federal funds for would be racially segregated. The system had limits.

Following a presentation by Johnson on December 24, 1937, urging the City of Austin to take advantage of the program’s possibilities, Mayor Miller and his fellow councilmen asked the USHA to earmark $450,000 in funds to be matched with $50,000 from local sources and created the Austin Housing Authority to administer the project. The authority, chaired by E. H. Perry with Alvin Wirtz as vice-chairman and Guiton Morgan as executive director, organized by year’s end and asked the congressman, in attendance at its first meeting, to present its official request for funds upon his return to the nation’s capital. Two weeks later Johnson announced from Washington that Nathan Straus, administrator of the USHA, had indeed set aside the requested monies pending final arrangements and had dispatched O. C. Winston to Austin to discuss details and formulate procedures necessary to award the funds and begin construction.

As Mayor Miller and Congressman Johnson raced ahead with their plans, opposition surfaced when Dr. Goodall Wooten, a prominent local activist and immediate past president of the Austin Chamber of Commerce, spoke out unexpectedly at the annual meeting of the Community Chest organization. Questioning the wisdom of building new units which he maintained would blight certain sections of the city and would remove existing units from local property tax rolls, Wooten suggested placing the $500,000 in an interest-bearing account. The estimated $25,000 annual interest could be used to make rental payments for Austin’s poorest families living in existing low-cost homes. Such an alternative would leave the tax rolls uneffected and aid Austin’s rental interests as well as the city’s poorest citizens.

Fearing Wooten’s comments might mushroom into widespread opposition if left unanswered, Miller, Johnson, and their supporters immediately set forth to build public support for their proposal. Gordon Fulcher came out strongly for the "slum clearance program" in his "Your Story and Mine" column on the editorial page of the Austin American. Governor Allred announced his "unqualified endorsement" of the plan, lauded the efforts of Mayor Miller and Congressman Johnson, and criticized those raising objections. Johnson returned to Austin to deal with the situation after spending only two weeks in Washington. Introduced by Mayor Miller to radio station KNOW’s audience on January 23, 1938, he told listeners of his tour of Austin slums earlier in the day and the disease and poverty he found, arguing that the proposal would actually boost the value of properties surrounding the proposed projects and thus increase property tax revenue. The high point of the campaign occurred the next evening when over 300 people unanimously endorsed the proposal at a town meeting after listening to presentations by Mayor Miller, Congressman Johnson, E. H. Perry, O. C. Winston, and others.

The battle culminated three days later at the Thursday afternoon session of the Austin City Council. Councilman C. M. Bartholomew questioned the city’s legal authority to underwrite the $50,000 in required matching funds. Councilman Simon Gillis characterized the proposal as a "socialistic move" and argued the program would be unnecessary if existing property owners could be guaranteed tax free rental income of $3 per room by Austin and the federal government. Mayor Miller, after giving critics their say, lashed out at Gillis and Bartholomew for failing to attend the public hearing earlier in the week when Austinites had unanimously endorsed the proposal. Arguing that the city could use utility charges to make up for any lost tax revenue, Mayor Miller invoked President Roosevelt’s name to carry the day. "I think it is the patriotic duty of the city which has been helped a lot by the Roosevelt administration to cooperate in this program. This is the answer to communism, to Hitlerism, and Mussolini-ism." When the vote to approve came, Bartholomew and Gillis grudgingly voted with the rest of the council to unanimously endorse the proposal.

Despite lingering ill will among certain sections of the community that would complicate his reelection bid in 1939, Mayor Miller gloried in Johnson’s announcement in March 1938 that the USHA had granted final approval of Austin’s request for funds and that construction of the Chalmers, Rosewood, and Santa Rita housing projects could commence. Johnson’s acquisition of $250,000 above and beyond Austin’s initial request for the program was simply icing on the cake. The bitterness of the 1937 special election forgotten, Tom Miller and Lyndon Johnson were now allies.

So pleased was Miller with Johnson’s representation by May 1938 that he decided to give the congressman a tangible expression of Austin’s gratitude. When the mayor first broached the idea of presenting him with an automobile, Johnson politely demurred and wrote back that the mayor’s support and recognition of his efforts were sufficient rewards. Miller, however, interpreted Johnson’s reaction as a polite and pro forma response rather than a firm rejection and continued his solicitation of donations from prominent Austinites to purchase the automobile. By the time Ray Lee, an employee of the NYA in Austin who had managed public relations in the 1937 election, could inform Johnson by mail of Miller’s continuing efforts, the mayor had already ordered a red Buick complete with leather upholstery and collected nearly $1,500 to pay for it.

Having invested so much effort to secure Miller’s support over the past year and with the Democratic party’s nominating primary but two months away, Johnson found himself in a delicate situation. Miller, stubborn, temperamental, and prone to take offense when none was intended, saw no problem with the gift and seemed determined to proceed. How would the mayor react if he refused this token of appreciation? If he accepted the automobile to placate the mayor, future challengers for his seat in Congress might well make telling use of the lavish gift to argue that Johnson had used his position for personal gain. As yet unopposed for renomination, Johnson chose to risk his new relationship with Miller to avoid even the appearance of an impropriety which might be used against him in a future campaign.

The congressman, however, used intermediaries to deliver the message to the mayor rather than risk a face-to-face confrontation himself. Alvin J. Wirtz, E. H. Perry, and T. H. Davis tried to convince Miller to desist. Ray Lee, who periodically fed pro-Johnson stories to the local newspapers and who coveted appointment to Austin’s postmastership, finally drove home the message on explicit instructions from Congressman Johnson and, more than anyone else, suffered the brunt of Miller’s wrath. Reporting to Johnson on his conversation with the mayor, Lee wrote, "he denounced me for interfering with his plans, accused me of trying to come between him and you, reviewed a few of the sins I have committed in my life, assured me that he would make certain that particular ambitions which I cherished and have discussed with you are not realized, and wound up by consigning me to hell." Miller blamed Lee for the fiasco rather than Johnson and harbored a grudge against him for over a year. Having proven himself an invaluable supporter in this and other matters, Johnson eventually rewarded Lee with the postmastership after Miller’s anger abated.

Automobiles notwithstanding, Mayor Miller enthusiastically backed Johnson’s bid for reelection in 1938. Though Johnson lacked the formal powers his predecessor had wielded as a result of seniority, the flow of federal funds to Austin and the Tenth District had continued and even increased since Buchanan’s death. In addition to dams that would eventually tame the Colorado and public housing for the needy, the freshman representative secured funding for a municipal building, additions to the water and light systems, new sewer lines, an incinerator, an automatic fire alarm system, and was at work on a requested grant of $750,000 for school improvements. So pleased with his performance was the Austin American that a February, 1938 editorial praising his service argued that he had earned the right to run unopposed in the upcoming primaries.

Mayor Miller agreed wholeheartedly and periodically reassured Johnson that no challenger had appeared nor was one likely to emerge. As the filing deadline neared, the mayor supplied the congressman with the official forms needed for placement on the Democratic party’s ballot. Though no one filed to run against him, Johnson worked for a good showing in the July primary. Having worked to win Miller’s support and certain he had it, Johnson wrote in longhand the text of a statement by "An Austin Businessman" describing his remarkable accomplishments of the preceding year and through Alvin Wirtz arranged for the mayor to circulate the statement as his own to members of the Austin Chamber of Commerce. While far more citizens paid their poll taxes to be eligible for and actually participated in the July 1938 primary than had been the case in 1937 when no one could have predicted an important special election to fill a congressional vacancy, Travis county vote totals in 1938 nonetheless reflected Johnson’s efforts and Mayor Miller’s support. The harvest of votes for the congressman increased six fold.

The emerging alliance between mayor and congressman also figured prominently in Austin’s municipal elections the following year. The lingering resentments and animosities of many past battles and decisions finally caught up in 1939 with the Miller council which had assumed office in 1933 and won unopposed reelection in both 1935 and 1937. Rumors of growing discontent and a possible challenge to incumbents spread as Tom Miller pondered whether or not to seek a fourth term. On his own council, Simon Gillis had yet to fully accept the public housing decision of the preceding year. Despite successfully steering Austin through the transition from Congressman Buchanan to Johnson, the mayor appeared tired and frustrated. As he prepared to leave for Washington on January 24, 1939, to lobby for funds, Miller quietly revealed to close friends that he would not seek reelection. Biting criticisms had taken their toll and he could no longer afford the personal and financial costs of public service.

E. H. Perry, who had helped launch Miller’s political career and was familiar with his moodiness and need for recognition, quickly passed the word to insiders, including Johnson, that the mayor had made his decision while in the "Valley of Despair" emotionally and "if enough people communicate with Tom to build him up" he would probably change his mind. Congressman Johnson, who had invested so much effort in building his relationship with the powerful mayor, assured Ray Lee and other Austin insiders that he would spend a lot of time with Miller while he was in the nation’s capital. It’s safe to assume, given Johnson’s relationship at that point with Miller and subsequent events, that the congressman counseled reconsideration. On his return to Austin on February 6, 1938, more than 600 local citizens and business leaders amassed by Perry greeted the mayor and convinced him to declare his candidacy. Facing the challenge of an anti-incumbent slate headed up by attorney Emmett Shelton who charged the council with inefficiency and corruption, Miller benefited from Lyndon Johnson’s behind-the-scenes support. Ray Lee, keeping the congressman informed every step of the way and serving Johnson as much as Miller, worked on radio transcripts for the mayor throughout the campaign and lined up the Johnson forces behind the mayor. While Miller and his fellow councilmen survived the electoral challenge, the mayor’s political future was now open to question while Johnson’s star was clearly on the rise.

Crisis briefly threatened the seemingly stable alliance during the latter half of 1939 when Tom Miller lashed out at Johnson over his efforts to bring cheap electricity, so long denied by private utility companies, to rural residents of his district. Now political realities put to the test the young congressman’s commitment to an activist government serving progressive ends.

With completion of the LCRA’s hydroelectric dams in sight, Johnson increasingly turned his efforts to finding consumers for the authority and connecting their homes, farms, and ranches with the dams government funds had built. Crisscrossing the district repeatedly in a prolonged promotional campaign, he encouraged the formation of rural cooperatives in Central Texas to build transmission systems which would deliver LCRA-generated electricity across the region. He used his influence with federal bureaucrats and his entree to President Roosevelt to secure long-term loans for the cooperatives from the Rural Electrification Administration. If successful, the farmers and ranchers of his sprawling district would secure electrical service and the LCRA would receive the revenue income required to retire its debts to the PWA. Convinced that higher rates would limit the benefits of the whole rural electrification program and that LCRA could maximize consumption levels by offering electricity at rock-bottom prices, Congressman Johnson lobbied the authority’s board to establish the most reasonable rate structure fiscal security permitted. These efforts, however, brought him into direct conflict with Mayor Miller.

Since its purchase of the Austin Water, Light, and Power Company in 1902, the City of Austin had operated its municipally-owned utility system at a profit to compensate for the abundance of tax-exempt property in the city such as the state capitol complex and the University of Texas campus. This allowed the city government to transfer electricity profits into its general fund to finance other municipal services which otherwise would have required higher property taxes. Utility customers, including those exempt from Austin property taxes, thus underwrote the cost of city government. Mayor Miller feared the city would face intense pressure to slash its utility rates if LCRA instituted the type of rate structure Johnson urged. The City of Austin would then face the unpleasant choice of either cutting city services or raising local property tax rates. Wishing to avoid what he felt would be a financial crisis for his beloved city, Miller complained about and sought to block Johnson’s efforts.

Hot-blooded, volatile, and overly sensitive, Miller personalized the policy disagreement in the fall of 1939 and pushed the matter to the crisis stage. Congressman Johnson always made a point of visiting personally with the mayor whenever he returned to the district as much to play up to the mayor’s sense of self-importance as to consult on political matters. The press of other commitments on one such brief return to the district in September prevented the regular consultation with the mayor. Already angry over the issue of utility rates, Miller interpreted the congressman’s failure to get in touch as evidence of indifference to the mayor and Austin’s needs. His feelings hurt, Miller expressed his disappointment in and displeasure with Johnson to anyone who would listen.

Mutual friends and associates quickly apprised Johnson, back in Washington, of the deteriorating situation. The congressman received word from Jesse Kellam at the NYA office in Austin that the mayor was calling him a communist and saying "that you had gone back on your friends." Ed Clark wrote, "Tom Miller is very very unhappy - in fact he is mad at CRA and Lyndon Johnson." A. J. Wirtz related a conversation he had had with the mayor in which Miller stated "that you had deliberately been cutting him lately and that within two or three days he [Miller] was going to make a public statement to the effect that you [Johnson] would not cooperate with the city, and that he was through working with or through you."

Faced with the very real possibility of a costly split between its mayor and its congressman, the Austin power structure moved to heal the rift. Wirtz counseled Johnson that he should be big enough to ignore the mayor’s insults and "...treat Tom like the spoiled child he is. Although he is a child, he is good-hearted and although we get provoked at him, I think it is best for you and best for your constituents to humor him like you would a spoiled child, if that is what is necessary to get the job done." Ed Clark urged Johnson’s quickest return to Austin to straighten out the matter. E. H. Perry, after consulting with publisher Charles Marsh, advised that any breach between the two powerful officials would be bad for both sides and should be avoided at all costs.

It was Perry more than any other figure who prevented the crisis from developing into open warfare. He proffered his services to mediate the dispute, proposed a meeting at his home between the two antagonists, and offered a possible compromise. Miller was concerned primarily with the lost revenue any cut in Austin utility rates would produce. Would Johnson pledge to use his office to make up any lost revenue with additional federal funds and programs if Miller agreed to cut rates? In order to rescue the relationship he had invested so much effort in forging and to mend political fences as the 1940 primaries neared, Johnson hurriedly returned to Austin for a mid-October meeting with Miller at Perry’s mansion. What transpired there behind closed doors must be conjecture since neither man committed to paper the particulars of the confrontation. However, later statements and events indicate the mayor and the congressman concluded an armistice. In subsequent months, the mayor’s testiness waned, Tom Miller Dam began operation after a gala dedication ceremony, Johnson won uncontested renomination, and both men figured prominently in Franklin Roosevelt’s quest for an unprecedented third term as president. While neither man forgot the ill will of late 1939 and future conflicts would occur, the Miller-Johnson alliance survived its first major crisis.

So different in appearance and yet so similar in personality, Lyndon Johnson and Tom Miller, foes in the battle to fill James P. "Buck" Buchanan’s vacant seat in 1937, seemed unlikely friends and allies. Nonetheless, political necessity and personal ambition mandated a reconciliation between adversaries. Amity built slowly between 1937 and 1939 as both men consciously sought to overcome numerous obstacles and took steps to forge a productive relationship. Congressman Johnson and Mayor Miller enjoyed the political rewards of reconciliation at election time and Central Texans from all walks of life received numerous dividends such as flood control, cheap electricity, and public housing. While difficult to maintain and subject to periods of crisis, the partnership played a major role in the attainment of their individual and shared goals and ended only with Tom Miller’s death in 1962.

The early years of the Johnson-Miller relationship thus reveal not the power-crazed manipulator and deceiver of Robert A. Caro’s writings intent on crushing his enemies but a young politician working within the system as it existed. Operating not in the idealized realm of total victories and no compromise but in the very real world of Texas politics in the latter 1930s with all of its racial prejudices, conflicting pressures, and difficult personalities, he pursued the dual goals of success and service. Displaying patience, finesse, and skills beyond his years, he dealt productively with officials such as Tom Miller and thereby succeeded in bettering the lives and circumstances of those who had elected him to do just that.