“At the turn of the century, with the onset of the Progressive Era, the tide became a wave – a great wave of conscience, of anger over injustice, of demand for a cleansing of government and for a mobilization of government to meet the needs of its people. The wave of Progressivism and reform washed across America, through statehouses and city halls, even through the White House. When the wave crashed against the Senate, it broke on the Senate, the waters falling away from it as they had been falling away for half a century. The Senate stood as it had been standing for so long – a mighty dam standing athwart, and stemming, the tides of social justice…”
- Robert Caro, The Master of the Senate
It is no secret that the history of the United States of America is a checkered past indeed. Along with notions of representative government instead of heaven-sent monarchs, of economic mobility rather than feudalism, of freedom of thought and voice and movement, there was race-based slavery, systematized inequalities, and the use of military power as a coercive force. From the beginning, there has been a war between ideals and reality, between what America is and what it might become.
As Robert Caro points out in the first chapter of his magisterial Master of the Senate, the United States Senate played a large role in this battle for a nation’s soul. According to an apocryphal story, George Washington once compared the Senate to a “saucer” meant to cool coffee before drinking, slowing down legislation that might otherwise be rushed. To Caro, however, the Senate is a “dam,” where a minority of Senators representing a minority of the country can maintain the status quo for decades.
Master of the Senate is the third volume in Caro’s huge (and thus far ongoing) multivolume biography of Lyndon Baines Johnson. Yet as he has done in previous volumes, Caro is not just interested in the man, but his times as well. In earlier volumes, Caro devoted a great deal of space to men such as Sam Rayburn (Path to Power and Coke Stevenson (Means of Ascent), who played outsized parts in Johnson’s career arc. In the manner of a great novelist, Caro presented these men – sometimes at the cost of strict historical fidelity – in contrast to Johnson, who he often finds lacking in ethical scruples.
In this book, finally, Caro starts to soften on Johnson. This is the moment when the man who ruthlessly sought about acquiring power began to use it, and to use it for righteousness and good. Up until this point, Caro has shown mostly disdain for Johnson. Now, he begins the process of anointing him the greatest champion of civil rights to ever hold high office, further ranking him alongside Abraham Lincoln and Martin Luther King as the most effective civil rights leaders in history.
To do this, Caro finds a non-human antagonist for Johnson to battle against: the Senate itself.
After introducing the Senate in a fifty-page chapter, Caro embarks upon the most beautifully and brilliantly written lawyer’s brief you can imagine. For while this is an immersive portrait of a man, it is also an argument meant to prove Caro’s thesis. In doing so, there is a lot of rehashing of previously-told events. Besides inflating the page count (1,040 pages of text), there is a lot of repetition for those who have read the prior two entries in the series.
Despite the sensation of being hit over the head with certain points, I found Caro’s technique rather effective. Like a lawyer or high school writing instructor, he tells you what he’s going to say, he says it, and then he reminds you what you’ve just been told. While a tad pedantic, it certainly sticks in your memory. More than that, Caro has created a book that can stand all on its own. You do not need to have read the first two doorstoppers to enjoy this one.
Like his other Johnson books, Caro spends a lot of time fleshing out the peripheral characters, though oddly enough, Lady Bird and Johnson's children are seldom mentioned. The “heavy” in Master of the Senate is one of the country’s unknown villains: Richard Brevard Russell, “a Russell of the Russells of Georgia.” Every bit the “southern gentleman,” Russell was smart, savvy, and an avowed segregationist whose patrician nature made him even more dangerous than a snarling racist with a tiki torch. Caro gives Russell a rather lengthy biographical aside, fleshing him out, even though some passages nearly drip with deserved scorn.
There is also a chapter devoted to Minnesota's finest, the liberal lion Hubert Horatio Humphrey, whom Senator Paul Douglas called “the orator of the dawn.” Oddly, though Humphrey is given a big rollout, we don't really learn a lot about him, and though he hovers in the background, despite adding many pages to an already-hefty tome. When I first read this (before book four was released), I assumed that Johnson’s eventual vice-president would receive a lot more print. Of course, in the intervening years, Caro’s proposed-four volume project got extended to five, so we are still waiting to here from Humphrey again.
It’s almost a waste of space to mention it, but a lot is packed into this mammoth book, beyond the initial history of the U.S. Senate (alone worth the price of admission): Humphrey's 1948 convention speech; Johnson's sub-committee work during the Korean War; Johnson's maneuvering to become a powerful Majority Leader; the Senate investigation into the removal of Douglas MacArthur (where, to give Senator Russell his due, he stood up for the civilian-military divide that is spelled out in the U.S. Constitution); the communist witch hunts of Joe McCarthy; Johnson's near-fatal heart attack; and much more.
The great event, though, the singular event around which all other events orbited – the aptly named Great Cause – was the passage of the 1957 Civil Rights Bill. To be sure, the 1957 Civil Rights Bill was weak and near meaningless. Indeed, Johnson was assailed at the time for helping to gut it. Yet it was the first civil rights bill passed in the Senate since 1875; all other attempts had been filibustered by the South. Caro goes into incredible, at times excruciating detail, as to how Johnson solved this Gordian knot. There is no way to summarize the labyrinthine maneuvers required to get even a weak civil rights bill through the Senate, yet Caro manages to make the Byzantine rules of the Senate understandable. Whatever else you think about Johnson’s motivations or the effectiveness of the bill, getting something passed, anything passed, was a huge victory. The world, unfortunately, can seldom be changed all at once. Most often, it has to be forced along, inch by inch.
Master of the Senate’s sharp focus on the Senate years means that you lose out a lot on Johnson's personal life. If you’re worried that Caro has gone totally soft on Johnson, don’t worry, he still spends sufficient time dwelling on his affair with Helen Gahagan Douglas.
Upon initially completing Master of the Senate, I ranked it as my second favorite of the three books, with Path to Power being first. Having recently reread this, in light of the fourth volume being released, and the fifth volume nearing (hopefully) completion, I have wholly reconsidered that initial reaction.
Not only is Master of the Senate the crowning glory of The Years of Lyndon Johnson, it is one of the best single history books I have ever read. It is enormously ambitious, at times enormously challenging, but it is – at the end – enormously satisfying, an achievement of unbelievable magnitude that will anger you, frustrate you, and move you.