The Long Summer Commute

Noting that King Bhumibol of Thailand had visited Massachusetts' Martha's Vineyard as a child, Lyndon Johnson allowed to the monarch during his recent visit to the White House that "some members of my Cabinet--some members of my staff--have been known to disappear into the fogs of the Vineyard for long stretches of time. Some of them even claim that the fog obscures not only land and sea but also the sound of the White House telephone." Added L.B.J.: "Secretary Katzenbach, I am carefully observing your reaction."

Johnson was presumably remembering the time of the Watts riots when he tried to reach Katzenbach, then the Attorney General, only to learn that he was weekending on the Vineyard. Then he called for McNamara--and he was on the Vineyard too, a guest of the Katzenbachs. In needling Katzenbach, L.B.J., who likes to keep his aides close at hand, was rubbing salt into old saddle sores--Katzenbach's longest "vacation" since coming to government has been four days.

East by North. For a host of businessmen whose jobs give them a slightly longer tether and who have shipped their families off to resorts, summer is the time of the long-distance commute. Especially along the Eastern Seaboard from Washington to Boston, the trek to rejoin families for the weekend in resorts at Rehoboth Beach, Del., Cape Cod, the White Mountains or the coast of Maine is a grueling ordeal.

Gone are nice old trains like the New Haven's Cape Codder that whisked up from New York each Friday, returned each Sunday evening. Maine and New Hampshire, in fact, no longer have any passenger trains at all. As a result, the summer commuter quickly becomes a kind of involuntary transportation expert, inured to travel by bus, car, airplane and motorboat. Sometimes it's a long day's journey in order to spend little more than a day with the family.

It takes only one season for the summer commuter to learn to book plane flights months in advance. The easiest way for Chicago businessmen to reach the luxurious lakeside summer colony of Charlevoix, Mich., is via a 250-mile flight to Traverse City, followed by a 15-minute small-plane hop to the final destination. But what happens when the airline is booked? Those left in the lurch must drive north to Milwaukee, where they catch a ferry to Ludington, Mich., a trip that takes six hours--then drive 150 miles to Charlevoix.

Ingenuity & Spirit. Even with reservations, there is always the threat of fog and canceled flights. One Cape Cod-bound CBS executive set off for Boston, landed instead in Burlington, Vt., because Boston was socked in. The airline provided a limousine for the 220-mile drive to Boston; fog still ruled out the flight to Provincetown, so he rented a car and drove another 115 miles, arrived at midday Saturday only to set off again Sunday for the return trip, just as the fog rolled back in.

The most celebrated Cape Cod commuters are the Kennedys, and except for fog, they have the problem pretty well licked. All it takes is their in genuity, their spirit--and their private plane. Every weekend, all summer long, the 18-seat Caroline makes the Washington-Hyannis Port run with a full load of assorted Kennedys, Shrivers, their staff members and house guests. The crunch comes when it is time for the flight back to Washington. The size of the original entourage is often swelled by guests who made it up to the Kennedy compound on their own, and there is often a scramble for seats. But such, reason the commuters, is the price of flying on a non-sked airline.

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