Herbert Hoover

by Glen Jeansonne

  By the time he retired from mining in 1914, Hoover commanded an army of over 125,000 employees in an empire virtually worldwide in scope. Estimates of his wealth varied widely at different times, from $4 million to $30 million.61 “In all the history of mining industries there have not been a dozen men in a class with him for scope of accomplishment,” Eugene Lyons writes. “In his early thirties he was widely regarded in his profession as the world’s outstanding mining engineer; by the time he was forty, this regard was unanimous.” Lyons concludes that Hoover doubtless possessed the most composite talents of any engineer of his generation. “There were greater experts in this or that specialized branch of the field—geologists, metallurgists, power engineers, chemists, construction engineers,” he explains. “These were often the specialists whom he employed and deployed and directed on thirty or forty great enterprises in all parts of the world at once.” The biographer concludes, “But there were few, if any, who could compare with Hoover for all-around proficiency; for his extraordinary blend of technical knowledge, mechanical know-how, organizing ability, and business acumen.”62

  FOUR

  The Great Humanitarian

  Europe had not experienced a major war since the age of Napoléon. Freedom of speech and worship, the right of individuals to choose their own calling, and material prosperity were making leaping strides. Only two nations, Russia and Turkey, required passports for entry. The epoch had inspired a passion for justice, and hope for a more peaceful world appeared on the verge of realization. Herbert Hoover later remembered the era before the war as one of social and educational reform, scientific innovation, and a rising standard of living. In America, about 80 percent of the population had achieved middle-class status. Hoover himself had stood near the pinnacle of attaining the greatest fortune of any engineer in history.

  Now back on American soil, Hoover waded tentatively into public service by volunteering to help his adopted state of California lure European exhibitors to the 1915 Panama-Pacific International Exhibition. He returned to Europe, lining up the British, French, and German governments to participate in the fair. Yet his efforts faltered when the outbreak of the Great War made the exposition inconsequential for European nations. Destiny had placed him at precisely a time and place that would dictate more than a detour in his life. It marked an irreversible change in direction.1

  The war swept in with sonic speed. On June 28, Gavrilo Princip, a Serbian nationalist, assassinated the archduke Franz Ferdinand, heir to the throne of the Hapsburg monarchy. The Austrian Empire seized the occasion to settle old grudges with the rebellious upstart Serbs. Ethnically, the Serbs were Slavs, and Russia, a Slavic nation, considered itself their protector. Germany aligned with Austria, a country of Germanic people, while France sided with Russia. Nationalism inflamed both alliances as they expected to flex their military muscle, crush their enemies in a brief conflict, and emerge supreme in Europe. When Germany, flanking France’s defenses, invaded France through neutral Belgium, Britain, linked by treaty to preserve Belgium’s sovereignty, joined the conflict. Each side expected the other to fold, yet they were evenly matched. Within weeks, Europe was embroiled in a colossal conflict that would slay 7.5 million soldiers, maim and kill 20 million civilians, and inflict death and destruction from the English Channel to the steppes of Russia. On August 4, 1914, the day Britain declared war on Germany, the British foreign minister, Edward, Viscount Grey, predicted, “The lamps are going out all over Europe; we shall not see them lit again in our lifetime.”

  Hoover compared the war to “a fog upon the human race.” “The world made the sad discovery that deeper in European nations than the arts of peace and human progress were age-old hates, rivalries, imperialisms,” he wrote. And Europe was to drag the world down with it. The Great War became the pivotal point in Herbert Hoover’s life.2

  On Monday, August 3, a week before his fortieth birthday, Hoover received an urgent call from the American consul in London, Robert Skinner, who pleaded for him to come to his office. Americans were choking the consulate for every inch of space. Having fled the war-torn continent, thousands of tourists, teachers, and temporary workers were begging Skinner to find passage for them to return to their homeland. Ships were tied up in port. No nation, including Britain, would accept American checks, currency, or any type of credit, without which the fleeing U.S. citizens could not obtain food or lodging. Americans were caught in a mousetrap of international intrigue. Skinner knew Hoover had not only money and influence among important Britons, but imagination and empathy as well.

  Hoover rushed to Skinner’s office and found the stranded Americans in a state of pandemonium. One man proposed that the group petition the U.S. government to compel the belligerent armies to cease fighting until all Americans were back on their native soil. Dismissing this as gallows humor, Hoover turned to practical matters. Quickly, he loaned gold and British pounds from his resources and those of wealthy friends and engineering associates, much of it with no collateral except a promise to repay.

  Skinner soon received a call from American ambassador Walter Hines Page. The U.S. embassy, like the consulate, was spilling over with frightened Americans seeking a ship home, and, temporarily, shelter. Hoover assembled groups of volunteers, chiefly engineers, who set up tables in the spacious ballrooms of the Savoy Hotel. Working under the auspices of the American Citizens’ Committee, they doled out British pounds to frantic U.S. exiles, booked passage home, and found temporary lodging. Hoover expanded operations to several smaller British ports. Lou created the Women’s Committee, which replicated her husband’s work among single women and those with children and no male companion. Both Hoovers calmed the nerves of the frantic escapees from the continent suddenly aflame. Lou conducted tours of museums and British castles to take troubled minds off the uncertainty that had descended upon them.3

  Hoover had to improvise. One elderly woman insisted she would not board a vessel unless Hoover personally signed a guarantee that her ship would not be sunk by a German submarine. He signed, quipping that if the lady survived the crossing she would be grateful, and if she were sent to the bottom there would be no one left to complain. A wealthy woman went on a hunger strike because Hoover could not book her first class. He took her down to the cafeteria to discuss her complaint, where the aromas of cooking food soon tempted her to end her fast. During six weeks, the American Citizens’ Committee doled out about $1.5 million to some 120,000 refugees, 30,000 of them teachers, on the honor system. All but about $300 was repaid. The U.S. government dispatched a battleship loaded with gold to aid the stragglers, but by that time most of them were already bound for America. Hoover had built a bridge across the Atlantic.4

  Rapidly sucked into the vortex of war, Hoover attempted to unscramble his expansive mining operations from the consequences of the conflict, remaining in London long enough to sort out the complications and opportunities that were bound to arise. He presided over a vast worldwide mining empire that specialized in base metals that could be molded into cannons, shells, rifles, and all modes of transportation on land and sea and in the air. All of Hoover’s mining properties stood to appreciate in value; in fact, some already had. Potentially, he might become the richest mining engineer in history if he managed his properties shrewdly.5

  The tiny nation of Belgium—which had bravely resisted the German invasion only to be overrun and occupied—now found itself ground between the British blockade to the west and the German army to the east. The most densely populated nation in Europe, Belgium, highly industrialized and urban, had imported 70 percent of its food before the war. Now only a few weeks separated Belgium from devastating famine. A committee of Belgian engineers was attempting to scrape together food for the nation but had been thwarted by Allied red tape and German inflexibility. Ambassador Page, impressed with Hoover’s compassion and organizational abilities, encouraged the committee to invite the American engineer for a meeting.

  Hoover’s h
eart was rent by the Belgian dilemma. The committee pleaded with him to chair a voluntary organization to save the besieged population, yet he was uncertain he, or anyone else, could resolve it. He knew little about nutrition, international diplomacy, and transportation, or where to find, on a consistent basis, the money and food to supply millions of hungry Belgians. He was more than an engineer, he knew, but he was not an authority in food relief.6

  Hoover asked for time to think, and he retired to the Red House to ponder his future—and Belgium’s fate. The task was unprecedented in scope and audacity. A private organization was to undertake the feeding of an entire nation for the indeterminate duration of a war, built up without an existing infrastructure, lacking personnel, commodities, or transportation. Hoover would need to obtain huge supplies of food during wartime, transport it to the Belgian borders, and distribute it from there to the Belgians with life-sustaining consistency. Just as complex, he would have to find money to purchase the food and scarce ships to transport it, and create a staff out of thin air to implement the complete scheme. He had never done anything comparable, nor had anyone else. It would be the largest private relief operation in history. It would mean relaxing the British blockade at one end and delivering food within German-occupied territory at the other. It would be a formidable feat to persuade warring nations, whose objectives were polar opposites, that saving Belgium lay in their interests.7

  Almost immediately, problems had descended on Hoover that would require infinite patience, perseverance, imagination, and fortitude to overcome. Back in California, there was an impending change in the presidency of Stanford, and he knew he was under serious consideration. To accept the challenge in Belgium would mean forfeiting that opportunity. Chairing the committee would force him to be separated from his family for protracted periods, traversing war zones and risking his life. He felt the burden of Atlas, with the world upon his shoulders. Pacing the floor of his upstairs bedroom for several days, he contemplated his future. His Quaker conscience weighed on him. Posed against the physical and mental stress was the stark reality that millions of innocent civilians would starve if he refused the challenge to help them. Preying on his mind were the ghosts of famished children, the real victims of war. “We may count food in calories,” he said in retrospect, “but we have no way to measure human misery.” Looking beyond the present generation, Hoover explained, “We no longer have the right to think in terms of our own generation.”8

  Hoover decided that attempting to feed Belgium was something he simply could not refuse. He faced the prospect not with enthusiasm or exhilaration, but with grim determination that he dared not fail. Finally emerging from his personal purgatory, he descended the stairs of the Red House for breakfast with his Stanford friend Will Irwin, now a famous war correspondent, and said, “Well, let the fortune go to hell.”9

  Even before announcing his acceptance of the committee chair, Hoover cabled the Chicago commodities exchange and bought options on ten thousand bushels of wheat for delivery to Belgium. Cereals constituted a major portion of the Belgian diet, and though Hoover lacked the money, the ships, and the manpower to begin the project, he had tied down the first shipment of wheat before prices spiked.

  In creating the Commission for Relief in Belgium (CRB), Hoover was entering terra incognita, setting a precedent as a “Napoleon of Mercy.” At the time there was no large international organization with staff and contingency funds in place, no umbrella group such as the United Nations with an existing infrastructure to call upon contributions from its members. Neither did the United States possess such a contingency appropriation. “In more recent times the world has grown accustomed to American action to save lives and restore the fractured economies of far-off lands,” George H. Nash writes. “Indeed, today, such involvement is almost universally taken for granted. One reason for this expectation, one reason for its acceptance—although few know it today—is the institution created by Herbert Hoover.”10 The CRB was to become the model for CARE and UNICEF. Hoover incubated these concepts, starting purely with his own ideas, with little time to plan and implement his scheme. He was on a treadmill of obtaining money, food, and transportation and ensuring the food’s delivery to hungry mouths. At intervals, relief ran only days ahead of the Grim Reaper. The experiment might well have failed. At times it nearly did.

  The Commission for Relief in Belgium, with Hoover as chairman, was headquartered in London, with auxiliary headquarters at Rotterdam, Brussels, and New York. Hoover crossed the Channel frequently, avoiding mines and German submarines. When visiting the Germans he stayed at their military headquarters at Charleville in occupied northern France. Hoover was provided with a passport, issued by no nation, under his own signature, which permitted him to traverse international borders without being stopped or searched. He owned a German document stamped: “This man is not to be stopped anywhere under any circumstances.”11 He was absolutely discreet in refusing to divulge military information to either side, though privately, his sympathies lay with the Allies. Hoover protected himself with a veil of silence and earned the grudging respect of both belligerents.12

  Food purchased in America was shipped across the Atlantic on the CRB’s own fleet of about seventy-five vessels, each sporting gigantic red-and-white banners and flying the flag of the CRB. Inscribed on each ship’s sides was the identifier “CRB” to ensure its immunity from attack by German submarines, although occasionally the CRB did lose transports to U-boats. Hoover acquired food that packed the maximum nutrition and could be shipped in bulk, at the lowest cost, and was imperishable. All vessels were inspected at a British port for contraband, and then docked at Rotterdam, the nearest neutral port, where the cargoes were unloaded. The provisions were transshipped from Rotterdam to Belgium through an intricate network of canals and sometimes by rail. Within Belgium, the Comité Nationale, comprised of Belgian leaders, handled internal distribution, under the loose supervision of a skeleton staff of American volunteers. Food preparation and the serving of meals at local levels were carried out by forty thousand Belgian women, exclusively volunteers. Those who could afford to pay purchased the food at slightly above cost, with profits used to give free food to the destitute. Meals were fed at canteens, or kitchens, rather than sent to homes, in order to apportion rations. Supplies of bacon, lard, rice, peas, and beans were distributed to even the most remote communes.13 With scientifically designed diets and no citizen turned away, the people of Belgium were probably better fed than some of the poor in New York, Paris, or London.

  One of Hoover’s chief incentives for aiding Belgium was his lifelong commitment to the welfare of children. To accommodate their specific nutritional needs, canteens were established to provide an additional noon meal for children and pregnant women, as well as the elderly. Before war’s end, the canteens were serving some 2.5 million persons. The child mortality rate dipped below the ratio for normal times, and child health improved overall. The CRB also established a special Babies’ Milk Fund to provide milk to children younger than three years. By late June 1917, there was at least one clinic and milk depot in each of the 621 Belgian communes, furnishing medicines, nursing bottles, and infant clothing.14 Early in 1915, the CRB created a national organization for Belgian war orphans. These included children of deceased soldiers, children of civilians who had lost their lives through causes connected with the war, and children of prisoners of war. The charity gave money to families for care of relatives or, when necessary, placed the children with foster parents. The association provided an education for older war orphans that would train them for a profession after the war.15

  Hoover’s empathy for children never faltered. He witnessed many grim episodes during the war, but the only sight that moved him to tears was the suffering of the war’s youngest victims. He vowed never again to tour breadlines or soup kitchens that would expose him to such anguish—a decision that, during the Great Depression, caused many Americans to draw the erroneous conclusi
on that their president was too hard-hearted to face the destitute.16

  The organizational structure of the CRB was based on centralized decisions, with decentralized implementation. Working informally, Hoover dispensed with diagrams and organizational charts, took casual notes of conversations, and stored most information in his memory. He chatted with associates over lunch but seldom convened full-scale staff meetings. He selected able, idealistic assistants, including some twenty-five American Rhodes scholars, and gave them a great deal of latitude to accomplish their missions, emphasizing individual initiative and ingenuity. One man, given the task of managing an entire port, asked what his job was. Hoover told him to keep the food moving and did not elaborate. He remembered telling one assistant, “Make your own decision. You are on the ground. I’m not. You wouldn’t be there if you couldn’t run the job.”17

  Hoover served without pay—an example followed by most of his coworkers—and paid for his own food, transportation, and lodging. He asked no one in the organization to sacrifice more than he did. Many of his elite volunteers were fellow engineers, and a high esprit de corps formed among them. They developed an intense loyalty to Hoover, and many served in his later work in the U.S. Food Administration, the American Relief Administration, and the feeding of the Soviet Union.18