 Many years ago, when I was the wife of a brand new Texas congressman, I snapped photographs outside these iron gates. I never imagined that one day I would live on the other side of that fence. Like many tourists, I had the distinct feeling that this house belonged in part to me. I think that's a feeling that everyone who visits here shares. Just like the thousands who come here each year, I was impressed by the majesty of the great state rooms on the first floor and was proud of the stream of history that ran through each of them. What the passerby doesn't always realize is that there are two sides to the White House. The official side that remains in the public eye and the private side that the public rarely sees. The living quarters for the president and his family. This is our living room. Actually, it's the west end of the Long Hall. It's the nerve center and crossroads of all family activities. An intimate place and yet busy and it belongs to all the family. Psychologically, when you cross that threshold, you feel that you're at home, that you're inside your own house. You can put on a robe and slippers and curl up with a good book. We gather here on all the climactic occasions, such as the immediate moments following the State of the Union message or another major address to the nation. We usually invite those who worked on the speech or who had contributed to the event. On those nights, this room has been filled. It has the same electric quality of a Broadway opening. After the performance, you're anxious to hear the reviews. Although we've had some thrilling successes and high moments of pride, there were some chilly moments too. But happy or painful, this is where the initial public reaction is seen by the president. And this is where his family shares this experience. This room is also a listening post for the tone of the day. When we have no engagements in the evening, I come in here with some of my work that isn't so demanding and wait for Lyndon to come home from his work. You can see his office from here. The lights may be on until 8 o'clock or maybe 9 o'clock or 10 o'clock. Sometimes he doesn't come home to dinner until after midnight. It's not very far for a man to commute, but in terms of his responsibilities, there is a great distance from here to there. I recall being up here as Lyndon brought in her latest acquisition for her old book collection and Lucy emerged from the kitchen with a pan of brownie she'd made. And at the same time, knowing that Lyndon was down there only a few yards away, but the tensest nights of all are the lights on in the cabinet room and the television vans on Executive Avenue. Perhaps it was the crisis of the Gulf of Tonkin of the Middle East in June 67. But sooner or later the lights will go out and then in a few moments I will hear an eagle voice down the hall call out, Where's Bird? And then I know he's home. Really home. Like the living room in any American home, this room has its personal touches. Bookshelves that reflect the individual interests of the family, old and treasured friends. One of the things that I am proud to leave as a reminder of our time here is the addition to the White House Permanent Collection of paintings. Thomas Sully's portrait of Fanny Kimball is sheer romance and I love it. This is our most recent acquisition for the Permanent Collection. Robert Henry's Gypsy Girl. The first painting acquired during our stay at the White House was Winslow Homer's Surf at Prout's Neck. I saved my favorite, the Mary Cassette, for last. You can almost feel the love between the mother and those children. Look at that little girl. Is she wondering what the small child is going to mean to her life? It's such a dear painting. It seems to set the tone of the room. It's where the family shared so many personal and intimate moments, where we felt we were in the heart of the house, really at home. Each of the rooms in the family quarters of the White House has a special personality, a distinctive mood. Here, the treaty room has a dark green velvety look. Its ornate decor reflects the opulence of the Victorian period. Right after the Civil War, this became the cabinet room for President Andrew Johnson. But it was President Grant who introduced this table, which so many succeeding presidents used to conduct the nation's business until 1902. That was when the country outgrew the second floor. President Theodore Roosevelt, who had six children and was not tradition-bound, built the West Wing presidential offices, separating, once and for all, the family quarters from the day-to-day work of the chief executive. Many objects bring to mind earlier presidents. The chairs of Andrew Jackson, this lamp presented to Mrs. Grover Cleveland, and this tortoise shell wastebasket of President Grant, guaranteed to attract the young boys who visit us. The chandelier has an interesting story behind it. It was designed for the East Room in President Grant's time. But it soon passed from room to room until it finally wound up gracing President Theodore Roosevelt's new office. Every time the door opened, it tinkled, distracting him greatly. He ordered it to be sent to the Capitol, and he was supposed to have said, put it in the vice president's office and it will keep him awake. And there it remained until my husband became vice president in 1961. During Mrs. Kennedy's renovation, Lyndon was instrumental in returning it to the White House, where it hangs today. This room has seen many treaty signings. In our time, I've witnessed two treaties here, involving the geographic extremes of our country. The first was the Campbell Bellow Treaty, which made the summer home of Franklin Delano Roosevelt, an international park between Canada and the United States. Behind this table, Prime Minister Pearson of Canada and my husband were seated, flanked by their delegations. I remember James Roosevelt and Ms. Grace Tully, the president's personal secretary. It was a thrilling look back into the past. And then, from the northernmost part of the country to the southernmost. In October of 1967, the Chamoisar Treaty was signed here, returning to Mexico, a small strip of land, long in dispute between our countries. What a feeling of goodwill there was that day. The Texas congressman from the border districts were here and a delegation from Mexico, everyone I felt, was saying to himself, it's done at last. I can recall some other writing performed at this table, all that will never go down in history. I was showing my guests the rooms on the second floor. We entered the treaty room, and as I began my recital, I saw on the table some rather tattered notebooks and chewed pencils, a high school algebra, and a Latin book. It was evident that Linda and Lucy had discovered what I too would soon learn, that this room is mighty conducive to getting work done. Almost from the beginning, I've used this room to launch the projects closest to my heart. It's a good place to gather your committee or your group, talk into being a program, and get it moving. Most of our beautification planning was done right here. We took our notes on President Grant's table, and our liaison with the outside world was this old French telephone made back in the 1890s. And then I know that one day, when I walked through the finished Lyndon B. Johnson Library at the University of Texas, vivid memories of this room will come to mind. For almost three years, our various library committees have met here, bringing in the chancellor and regents, architects, historians and archivists, an old manner of design exhibit people. Here, we have watched the library grow from just a germ of an idea to a real living repository of history. And so, a room that started out as a working environment for a succession of presidents still provides that very important function for 20th century first ladies with a variety of projects. It is a working room, but like any room in the White House, it is also a collection of memories. Having the entire family together for lunch is a joy, but also a rarity. Lyndon's hours vary with his work, and the girls are just as unpredictable. But once in a while, everyone's activities coincide, and we gather in the family dining room. His cheeks are so pink. He looks almost like a little English baby. Lawn hair, pink cheeks. He looks like just about anybody except mine. He is a good boy. He's an angel. He looks so much like his daddy. He's eating his food on his chinny. Sir, do you know a detective from Amtrak? I thought I understood. I don't know. I thought he was a tractor with a bulldozer. That's what I thought, but Chuck wrote and he was trying to explain to me that he has no heavy playing on it, and it's not like a tank in the sense that it's very durable, but they're very dangerous since they've got about four gas tanks. So if they're hit, the whole thing goes like this. It's like a case. It's too hot. Hot. You know, I think one of our parting gifts might be an in-residence high chair, but linden ought to give it, don't you think? Wouldn't that be cute, Mom? Say, give them by Patrick Linden, New Jersey. Will you be glad if we get you a high chair, so it'll be your very own high chair forever? Lucy Baines, what kind would you like? Those pretty bright color ones like we have to manage. Yes, ma'am. And when I go down, I find out exactly how much to the penny. The other one was. The other one was, and how much the playpen was. All right. And I will then give you a check of the whole business. And we'll have two grandmother high chairs and one grandmother playpen, which will take up residence at the ranch. Right. We'll have to get a build-up. Assorted, New Jersey robbers can play in the playpen and sit in the high chair. But I bet we'll have two that'll be in high chairs at the same time without any difficulty. Well, I know when Lindenbirds is in a high chair, Linden will still be in a junior chair, if not a high chair. You can maybe able to take the tray off, but you'll still be fine. This would not be in one of my chairs, but the nice needle-point seat. Mother! Mother, are you trying to tell me something? I'm going to have to go. I'm going to get you a little wood, and you think you're going. He wants to go up. He does. Daddy, thank you. Goodbye. To me, the yellow-over room is the loveliest room in all the White House. While our living room is homey and cozy, this room is formal and elegant. Yet there is life here. It is warm and inviting. It is the one room in the White House where formal ceremony intermingles with family life. It symbolizes, in a way, the role a President's family plays while living here. For the personal life and the official duties are always closely related. President Franklin Roosevelt's bedroom was next door, and he would use this room as a sitting room and an office. For us, it has been the main drawing room. And on a winter evening, the fire is a magnet for good conversation. Traditionally, the yellow-over room has been used for entertaining and for receptions. In fact, this is where the first official reception ever held at the White House took place. Here, on a chilly January 1st in 18 and 1, John and Abigail Adams received the ministers from the first six countries that had recognized this brand-new nation. And still today, this room offers hospitality to visiting chiefs of state. This is where we invite the prime ministers or kings and their wives for that half hour or so before a state dinner. The earlier part of the day is filled with honors and formal ceremonies on the South Lawn. Colorful fanfare, sometimes a parade. This has always been an impressive experience, a responsibility. I go to the third floor before the occasion and look at the great map case and pull down Liberia, India. Then I read a fairly thick chief of briefing and also try to go over the guest list a good many times before the state dinner because, hopefully, you can say something more than just how do you do to our guests who come from all over the United States to meet the visiting head of state. And then it is a high moment when the color guard enters the president escorts the wife of the visiting chief and I, in turn, for a year, the handsome Marine captain who led the group was Chuck Robb. He was terribly military and impressive. It was not until months had passed that I realized I might be looking at our future son-in-law. We have had so many wonderful, personal, happy times in this room. Here, Lyndon and I celebrated just last year our 33rd wedding anniversary. The cake that Linda planned held our time together one third of a century. What a day was our grandson's first birthday. Like all birthdays, the climax is the cake. This one provided us with a household crisis. Those sticky little feet and that elegant Louis 16th upholstery. In the end, the furniture didn't suck a one bit, but my nerves did. And then there was the Christmas of 67. My husband was plunged into a trip around the world. Prospects were bleak indeed for a Christmas with the whole family together. I followed his headlines from Australia to Thailand to Rome. And then, gloriously, he came home on Christmas Eve. That Christmas, we were seven. Two sons-in-law and a new baby. Unspoken was the thought that next Christmas, Chuck, would not be with us. It was a fragile happiness like some lovely bubble. And I think the room must have sensed it for it was never prudier. It was our first Christmas in the White House. It was a moment to catch and hold. It seemed to underscore my feeling that this house is only on loan to its tenants. That we are temporary occupants linked to a continuity of presidents who have come before us and who will succeed us. For only a brief time, we serve as the extension of million people holding that trust, working to fulfill it. The man who sits in this chair sits in the chair that's been occupied by less than 40 men in the long history of this great republic. He is selected by the will and by the votes of a majority of the citizens of this republic. He must execute the philosophy and the policies of the people of this nation regardless of his own personal feelings from time to time. He is the executor of the will of the people of this nation and he carries upon his shoulders day and night a burden that always seems at least to him too much to carry but only for him to carry. We'll be leaving here shortly after having spent almost 40 years in the federal service. We came to Washington with some very deep set convictions. We felt that we could contribute to making this a better country for all of our people. In some fields we have made great progress education health housing in some respects we've had many disappointments but in the last few years in this house, in this office we have had a chance to impress upon the people of this nation those simple convictions that brought us to this town and that kept me here for almost four decades. It's important to reflect and look back and see what has been done because there's no better way to judge the future than by the past but the important thing that faces our country now is for a new president to look at these new challenges and find new answers. Find a means of communicating with our young and providing leadership and inspiration for them so that they will realize that we do care. Find a way to help a better understanding come to our races so that we can live together in peace and harmony and equality with justice to all. No president ever came to this office on a platform of doing what was wrong. Most of us have made some decisions that were wrong and as we leave office in a good many instances most of the people seem to feel that most of the things we've done have been wrong. But every man who's ever occupied this office or sat at this desk or reclined in this chair has been dedicated to doing what he believed was for the best interest of the people of this country. I'm utterly convinced that when any man takes the oath of office as president he is determined to do what is right as God gives him the wisdom to know the right. Most people come into the office with great dreams and they leave it with many satisfactions and some disappointments and always some of their dreams have not come true and I'm no exception but I'm so grateful and so proud that I've had my chance and as to how successful we've been in doing the greatest good for the greatest number the people themselves and their posterity must ultimately decide I have the satisfaction my family has the satisfaction that we gave it all we had and we think we provided some of the answers to the needs of our time.