Far left: Grandmère with Franklin, Jr., and my father Elliott on the steps of Springwood in 1916. Left: Grandmère and the children in descending order of height!
Soon, however, the extensive travel required of their father and his increasingly busy schedule as Washington’s ascending political star began to take a toll on FDR’s relationship with his children: He was simply never around to feed their insatiable appetite for his attentions.
During the Washington years Eleanor gave birth to her last two children: the second Franklin Jr., born in 1914, and John Aspinwall, born in 1916. Although the children did not lack for attention and care, Grandmère would later realize that her child-rearing abilities were less than ideal, probably a result of her own unusual childhood experiences coupled with Sara’s intrusions in all matters of the children’s lives. She would in time acknowledge that as a young parent she had been overly protective, too stern a disciplinarian, and in many ways puritanical to the extreme. When the children were younger Grandmère tried to be a dutiful mother, but perhaps lacked the confidence to make the bond really close. But a sense of intimacy was something she developed later, once she had achieved so much more in her life, with all of her children and especially with her grandchildren. My aunt Anna felt that her own relationship with her mother only began properly when she turned eighteen, and they started to have warmer, franker conversations:
A beautiful portrait of Grandmère with Anna, James, Elliott, and Franklin, Jr., in Washington, DC.
I would say she felt a tremendous duty to her children and it was part of that duty to read to them, hear their prayers and sing a hymn to them before they went to bed, but their really intimate lives were run by nurses and governesses and she had no real insight into the needs of a child for primary closeness to a parent.9
This was also an important period in Eleanor Roosevelt’s education as a public persona, and though she gained skills, she would regard it as a period of great personal sacrifice. The demands of a political career are indeed stressful on any family, and often the conflict between private and public lives cracks relationships, opening an emotional chasm between partners. Grandmère made an effort to preserve her young family from the effects of the merry-go-round of dinners and social engagements. Whenever possible and during the children’s school holidays she would take refuge either at Springwood with Sara or at Campobello, where the solitude provided her with the serenity she missed in the capital. The work constraints of her husband and his own official social schedule and travels often kept him away from Eleanor and the children for weeks. The period from 1913 to 1917, the devastating years of World War I, was extremely intense for Franklin, whose obligations and duties became more critical than ever before.
Lucy Mercer, my grandmother’s social secretary, with whom my grandfather had a lasting affair.
By late 1913 Grandmère’s Washington schedule had become so hectic that it required her to hire a social secretary. She chose Lucy Page Mercer, a twenty-two-year-old who was well based in social circles, for she came from a socially prominent and well-to-do patrician family from Baltimore whose members included several Washington insiders. Lucy quickly became an integral part of the household, where she was adored by the children and approved and accepted by Sara. Interestingly, Lucy was possessed of a beauty and femininity that Eleanor thought lacking in herself.
During the spring and summer of 1917 Eleanor and Franklin’s schedule kept them mostly apart. In July, while Franklin sailed to Europe to inspect the U.S. fleet, Grandmère gave generously of her time to the Red Cross, among others, for the war effort. Her work for the Red Cross was considered inappropriate for a woman of her social standing. It was dirty, dangerous work that often put her personally in peril and most certainly exposed her to the loud criticism of her peers. Her uncle Theodore was perhaps the only member of her family who supported her work and so admired her tireless efforts and leadership that he contributed one third of his 1906 Nobel Peace Prize money to support Grandmère’s work for the Red Cross. She met with the wounded sailors and their families, victims who awakened in her the same feelings as had the children of New York City’s tenements all those years ago, and she extended heartfelt compassion and kind words in the face of their devastation. Grandmère and her five children spent August and September with Granny at Springwood.
Grandmère was at Sara’s estate when she received a telegram on September 12 asking her to meet her husband’s returning ship with an ambulance and a doctor. Like most men on the ship, many of whom had died at sea from the viral infection, FDR was deathly ill with double pneumonia and influenza. Unless he received immediate treatment, it was possible her entire household would soon be in the same condition as Franklin. That first night of his arrival home, as she unpacked his suitcases and sorted through his mail, she found a neat and hefty bundle containing scores of Lucy Mercer’s love letters. One can only imagine what a devastating and unexpected shock this was for Grandmère, who had dedicated the last thirteen years of her life to Franklin’s life and career, accommodating everything no matter how hard or difficult it was for her. She confronted him with her find, offering him freedom despite the fact that divorce was regarded as a social and most certainly a political disgrace. Sara was aghast at the prospect that her son might choose that other much younger woman over his devoted wife and five children, and her immediate reaction was to threaten to completely sever all financial support of FDR. When offering him the chance for divorce, Grandmère suggested that he should “think things over carefully” before giving his answer. To choose divorce would have devastating results for his career as a politician, with no guarantee that he would win Lucy in the end, for she was a Catholic and likely would not marry a divorced man. According to my aunt Anna, she doubted that his sole reason for not getting a divorce was his political career. However, in her view, Grandmère punished herself for years with that belief. The doubt in her mind and heart was that he didn’t truly love her.
He had a choice to make, and choose he did—Eleanor—promising to end all “romantic involvement” with Lucy Mercer. My father attempted to explain his mother’s feelings of devastation at the discovery of the affair:
Mother spent the first seven years of her marriage constantly pregnant, and my father went through World War I being busier and busier and busier…. And my mother was such an insecure person during those first few years that I think it became a tremendous blow to her to realize what was going on. I don’t think she had any inkling that such a thing was possible between two people who had said their vows, and so it was horribly upsetting to her.10
For Eleanor this was the beginning of a long path of extricating herself from the total if not all-consuming devotion she felt for Franklin. So devastated was she, that her agreement was to be his partner and to support his career, but that was the full extent of her commitment. She recognized, I think, their compatible destinies, but effectively ended the more intimate romantic bonds that she had worked so hard to establish between them. My father described the partnership that existed from then on between his parents:
This partnership was to last all the way through their life; it became a very close and very intimate partnership of great affection—never in a physical sense, but in a tremendously mental sense. And while I think both of them were inclined toward other people from time to time, they both realized that they were never going to get out of harness from then on.11
On one level this unexpected turn of events could be viewed as yet another tragedy in Grandmère’s life, but perhaps Franklin’s debonair, flirtatious manner predestined the failure of the intimate partnership, to be nurtured in faithfulness and honesty, Eleanor so desperately sought. This was an episode of which she seldom spoke, to anyone, except some twenty-five years later when she confided in her close friend and official biographer, Joe Lash, that “The bottom dropped out of my own particular world. I faced myself, my surroundings, my world honestly for the first time.” Such a devastating and long-
lasting effect did this have on Grandmère that at some point, perhaps several years later, she destroyed all of the love letters and correspondence she’d received from FDR—correspondence that had been so important to her and which she had so meticulously saved for so many years. She suffered the betrayal in solitude, vowing her support but at the same time reclaiming that part of herself that she had given so unselfishly when declaring their wedding vows.
She emerged many months later as if from a period of long hibernation during which she had found a new strength and determination. She had liberated herself from the emotional imbalance of their one-sided relationship and had been released from her ever-present fear of losing him. She had broken the bonds of dependence on Franklin, and on Sara. Aunt Anna remembered this as a period of resurgence for Grandmère:
Then came the period in Mother’s life when she began to discover her true abilities, organizationally, communicationally, her grasp of problems. Since she could not get from Father the kind of total love and devotion she needed, she sought people whom she could depend on to love her… Once she grew to accept that Father was not going to be what she thought he should be—or at least unconsciously had hoped he would be—it was then that she really started to build her own independence of thinking on many, many issues… She thought through her position on such issues as women’s rights, labor, welfare, so that when Father went back into public life she had such definite opinions of her own, she could pester the hell out of him… Yet through all those years and in the last year and a half I was very close, I saw that the two had preserved a mutual respect and their own type of affection and a tremendous feeling of duty toward each other.12
Although their relationship was forever altered, she now shared a more powerful and certainly unique bond with him, one that was responsible on many occasions for happiness, shared glory, and greatness.
My grandparents shared a unique partnership few understood yet many admired. Here they’re sitting on the porch of Springwood.
As this new relationship evolved, Grandmère and Grandfather developed a rare and unusual personal and political companionship; it was a close partnership that many would come to envy, but few could ever fathom. But it was the uniqueness of what they built together in the years following that created one of the most enduring collaborations of modern times.
A stunning Chandor portrait of FDR.
The Close of the Washington Years
By 1918 World War I was coming to a close. It was still a busy and exacting time for the Assistant Secretary of the Navy, yet Franklin Roosevelt was becoming restless and somewhat disenchanted if not discouraged with his immediate prospects. In 1919 he talked Secretary Daniels into allowing him to travel to Europe to direct the disengagement of the naval forces from their wartime stance, and perhaps as an olive branch offering he took Eleanor with him on the trip. Her first return to Europe since their honeymoon fourteen years earlier was an exciting and welcome opportunity, marred only by the news received on their crossing aboard the USS George Washington of the death of Theodore Roosevelt. The last few years had been filled with disappointments for TR. He had worked diligently to moderate his former Republican Party colleagues, but had also engaged in a strong opposition of Wilson’s Administration policies. So antagonistic had the relations between the sitting and the former Presidents become that at TR’s death Wilson could only offer the statement that Theodore Roosevelt had made “no constructive policy to his record.” Grandmère, on the other hand, was more accurate, as history would prove, when she wrote in her diary, “Another great figure off the stage.” She and FDR were both saddened by this tragic loss for the country, and she for the loss of a father figure.
During these years Eleanor did not directly enter into political affairs, still considering the political arena her husband’s domain. Nevertheless, she was beginning to venture forth by developing her own views on public and political events, often privately expressing them among her friends and colleagues.
As the Washington years drew to a close, Grandmère would look back at both the triumphs and travails by observing in the final entry of her diary for 1919, “I do not think I have ever felt so strangely as in the past year… perhaps it is that I have never noticed little things before but all my self-confidence is gone and I am on the edge though I was never better physically I feel sure.” As bitter as the times had been, Grandmère was emerging a matured woman, although she certainly did not recognize the transformation in herself. She had become thoughtfully sophisticated in her political analysis, unequivocal in her opinions, and capable of achieving her own destiny. She was finally realizing that self-fulfillment could not be achieved through someone else’s beliefs and accomplishments. “Somewhere along the line of development we discover what we really are, and then we make our real decision for which we are responsible. Make that decision primarily for yourself because you can never really live anyone else’s life… The influence you exert is through your own life and what you become yourself.” And it was now that she assumed total control over the lives of her five children, wresting away the influence that Sara and the nannies had previously usurped with her tacit approval. Times in the Roosevelt family were forever changing.
Seeing as how 1920 was an election year, FDR was busy traveling about New York preparing for either a U.S. Senate race or the state’s governorship. When he left to attend the Democratic convention in San Francisco, neither he nor Eleanor knew which race he would make, but it was assumed they would be returning to New York, a move for which Eleanor was anxiously preparing. Certainly the results of the convention were as shockingly unexpected for Grandmère as they were for everyone else. James M. Cox, a relative unknown in national politics, was nominated as the presidential candidate, with Franklin D. Roosevelt the overwhelming choice for vice president! The chance for FDR to launch himself onto the national political stage was as disagreeable for Eleanor as it was agreeable for him, but she was again accepting of her role, even realizing that the prospects of success for her husband and his running mate were practically impossible. She adapted to these new circumstances with a sense of detachment and objectivity, as though participating from the outside.
From Campobello, Eleanor followed the progress of the new vice presidential candidate. Then, in September, Franklin quite unexpectedly asked her to join him and Louis Howe on the campaign trail. The 1920 election was the first national election in which women voted, and at that striking hour the wife of a vice presidential candidate could have great impact on the crowds. The relationship between my grandparents at this time was troubled; as they both sought to live their own separate lives under one roof the only common thread between them appears to have been politics. Grandmère joined Franklin and Louis to tour the country week after exhausting week, always remaining gracious and highly energetic but definitely in the background. Usually she was the only woman in the crowd, and all she could do was listen to the political speeches, unable to offer her own opinions. To make matters worse, Franklin had little time to pay her any attention. She spent increasingly long and lonely hours in her own quarters on the campaign train, being completely left out of FDR’s loop. It was Louis Howe who noticed her absences and who took it upon himself to include her as the campaign unfolded. He appreciated her excellent political instincts and sense of humor, and, recognizing her value as an advisor on important points of political strategy and issues, would often seek her opinions. It was during these weeks that the friendship and close conspiracy between Grandmère and Louis was forged as together they reviewed press coverage of FDR, helped with speeches, and found ways of collaborating. Not only was she flattered by his attention and obvious respect, but she also began to recognize Louis’s own keen intelligence and political savvy. The friendship between them was sealed when one day, having discovered that she had never seen the Niagara Falls, Louis invited Grandmère to leave the campaign for a few hours and to play tourists together, returning where they had left off. It was perhaps on th
at day that Grandmère felt trusting that Louis was becoming as devoted to her as he was to my grandfather. Louis’s role acquired an unexpected facet for both Franklin and Eleanor: He not only supported FDR but had started to help bridge whatever gaps of communication existed between them; he also provided her with a closer involvement in Franklin’s work. Finally, after all the years of Louis Howe’s “hanging around,” so obviously riding the coattails of her husband’s political star, Grandmère began developing a true respect and fondness for this unkempt, rough little man; they were becoming soul mates of a sort.
My aunt Anna remembered that Louis had been a pivotal force in helping Grandmère recognize her own potential and express her own ambitions:
Louis Howe as far as I know was the first person who brought out her ability and talent so there was much gratitude toward him in her heart for what he had done for both of them.13
On the Monday before the election, Franklin and Eleanor returned to Dutchess County, where he gave his last speech in Poughkeepsie. On the day of the election, Franklin held an open house for friends and neighbors at Springwood to anxiously await the results. Hopes that the million new women voters would all cast their vote for Mr. Cox were quickly dashed. As the first telegraph bringing election news was read, Franklin learned that voters had chosen the Republican candidate by an overwhelming majority. His reaction, although surely disappointed, was good-natured; he jokingly referred to himself as “Franklin D. Roosevelt, Ex.-V.P., Canned. (Erroneously reported dead).” In fact, although the loser, he had firmly established himself as a national political figure, had developed his own cadre of followers and assistants, and as the FDR historian Frank Freidel has said, the campaign “was not so much a lost crusade as a dress rehearsal” for what lay ahead.
Grandmère Page 13
