President Lyndon Johnson holds the cake as his daughter, Luci Baines Johnson, blows out the candles at her 17th birthday party in the White House in 1964
Luci struggled with the attention that comes with being a First Daughter. “I will never be just Luci Johnson,” she complained. “I’ll always be the President’s younger daughter.” The press pegged Luci and her sister as brains and beauty—Lynda as the brains and Luci as the beauty. “When my grades weren’t so good, complete strangers scolded me,” she said. “And when they got better, and we sort of leaked the news about my B average, people said I was bragging.” Her father did not necessarily debunk the media’s characterization of the sisters when he said, “Lynda Bird is so smart that she’ll be able to make a living for herself. And Luci Baines is so appealing and feminine that there will always be some man around waiting to make a living for her.” As hard as it was for Luci to be the perfect First Daughter, the amenities came in handy: when her dog Little Beagle went missing, J. Edgar Hoover put it on the FBI’s “Most Wanted” list.