Politics now became the substitute for the sexual and romantic relationship that had ended over the Lucy Mercer affair. FDR and Grandmère, locked in a triangle with Louis, were able to once more feel the vibrancy of their partnership, building together a life of public duty. Undoubtedly this was a time when Grandmère began to feel useful and valued, needed and loved for the qualities that she was able to bring to their renewed bond.
Once her fears had been overcome, her work became a source of deep fulfillment and her own life’s mission. She too savored the thrill and the ambition to succeed in what was then very much a man’s world, contributing fully in her feminine, politically astute, and socially conscientious way. Not only had she emerged as a new leader in the struggle for women’s and children’s rights; she had also earned her stripes as FDR’s full-fledged partner and advisor.
The stamina that helped my grandparents survive the tragedy of polio was a wellspring of triumphant energy that was now channeled toward his ultimate goal—the presidency. There was never any question; if Franklin was going to play, he was playing to win. However reluctantly Grandmère may have felt about his ambitions, she supported him with utter devotion. At the same time, she carved a unique, far from subordinate, role for herself, a role that allowed her freedom of movement, expression, and involvement at the White House seldom seen before. Although she was not the first First Lady to take up a significant cause (Ellen Wilson had been concerned with the housing issue and Lou Hoover had bravely championed the issue of race) Grandmère’s fervor and the sheer multitude of causes she took on made her far more visible and thus vulnerable to scrutiny. She used her position to directly affect so many issues in the Administration and soon became a far cry from previous First Ladies, who had generally retreated to the background of their husbands’ lives.
Prompted by both Louis Howe and Franklin, Grandmère became active inside the Democratic Party structure. In moving to that more active side of politics, she was stepping into very new territory: Even if she insisted she was only acting on behalf of Franklin, the reality was that she was becoming an accomplished politician on her own. She was also breaking from Roosevelt tradition, further underscoring her “outsider” perspective as far as her family was concerned. Her aunts Corinne and Bye were staunch Republicans, as were cousins Alice, Corinne, and Ethel. The other Roosevelt women had to reluctantly reconcile Eleanor’s new activist posture with their own strong sense of family. This stepping out meant that however feebly she may have felt about it at certain moments, Eleanor’s new mission was becoming powerfully crystallized as well as firmly lodged at the core of her being.
If our family name conjures images of dashing, charming men of high society; wealth; and politically powerful presidents, their feminine counterparts were by no means less impressive. Anyone dipping into the Roosevelt chronicles finds extraordinary women sustaining the clan through generations. Reading their letters, memoirs, and interviews, it becomes instantly apparent that running through the blue-blooded veins of many is a gene of genius, independence, extraordinarily strong willpower, and above all else an intense individuality. Of all of these extraordinary women, as unlikely as it may have seemed then, Grandmère would be the one to come closest to fulfilling the family destiny. Operating from within the Roosevelt world at the beginning, she then stepped out to manifest its values and strong commitment to public service with unusual achievements and inordinate amounts of energy.
Changing Times
America in the twenties was in social turmoil: both the “Great War” and the women’s vote had changed social perceptions. The surge in the number of automobiles and an abundance of household appliances altered mobility and the way people spent their leisure time. Women wore shorter clothes and hairstyles. The divorce rate increased; there was an air of frivolity and freedom. These were “changing times,” times when the so-called aristocratic set, like Eleanor and her friends, would change not only themselves but an entire nation’s views on a multitude of social issues and mores.
At the women’s division of the Democratic State Committee, Grandmère met Chairwoman Harriet May Mills and her assistant, Nancy Cook, who in years ahead would become one of the most galvanizing organizers of the women’s movement. Nancy was a gifted potter, jewelry maker, and cabinetmaker, but above all she was intellectual, a talented organizer, and enthusiastic; traits that attracted Grandmère’s attention. After just one speech, Eleanor so impressed Harriet and Nancy that she was asked to chair the division’s finance committee. Nancy Cook in turn introduced her to Marion Dickerman. Unlike Nancy, who was bright, sparkly, vivacious, and outgoing, Marion was soft-spoken, reserved, and, according to some, “so serious as to be glum.” She had been active in the suffrage movement, and was the first Republican woman to wage a campaign for the New York State Assembly, challenging none other than the sitting speaker, also a Republican. Although Marion lost, her efforts, principles, and indomitable spirit so impressed Eleanor that she, Marion, and Nancy soon became almost inseparable friends.
Grandmère with her two close friends, Nancy Cook and Marion Dickerman, at Campobello in 1926.
FDR felt that the Democratic Party had little influence in upstate New York and so urged Grandmère to contribute as much politically as she could in Dutchess County. Soon their partnership emerged, with Franklin as the strategist and Eleanor as the chief of the troops at his command. Louis Howe coached her on public speaking and helped her lose her shyness and fear of such events. Grandmère learned to drive and then took herself everywhere, a habit that continued even after she became First Lady and refused to be chauffeured while living in Washington. (I must add that Grandmère was a notoriously poor driver who was involved in more than one fender bender, or worse. Drives with her were always an adventure!) As she took on increasing responsibilities, she synthesized what being a Democrat meant for her:
If you believe that a nation is really better off which achieves for a comparative few, who are capable of attaining it, high culture, ease, opportunity, and that these few from their enlightenment should give what they consider best to those less favored, then you naturally belong to the Republican Party. But if you believe that people must struggle slowly to the light for themselves, then it seems to me that you are logically a Democrat.3
In 1922 Grandmère joined the Women’s Trade Union League, a powerful union that was formed in 1903 to “aid women workers in their efforts to organize… and to secure better conditions.” She began working for the League with her usual dedication and high energy, from the beginning having a powerfully positive impact on the women. Evening classes were organized, and Eleanor came one night a week to the League’s headquarters to read to the young women and to understand all she could of their conditions.
Braving the extremely cold waters of Passamaquoddy Bay, Grandmère and her friends fill the boat to near capsizing.
That Christmas, much to Sara’s horror, she asked her children to help organize a party for the children of the WTUL members. For the Roosevelt children this was the first contact with children of the slums and trade unions, and this event, the first of many, brought back for Grandmère the fond memories of similar times she had shared with her father when she was a young girl. It was her way, I think, of solidifying with her own children a Roosevelt family tradition.
Grandmère also firmly believed that the Democratic Party possessed a positive approach to the prevention of another war, because she felt that Democrats were “more conscious of our world responsibility and more anxious to see some steps taken toward international cooperation than were the Republicans.” As a result, she sought to keep Wilson’s vision of the League of Nations at the forefront of the nation’s interest. She became an energetic activist in the American Foundation, whose main purpose was to work with those who shaped national opinion to promote U.S. entry into the World Court, also familiarly known as the International Court of Justice at The Hague. Grandmère believed that would be the first step in the process of takin
g responsibility for international peace, something she felt was not just a political duty but also a reflection of a spiritual and moral vision for the world:
The basis of world peace is the teaching that runs through almost all the great religions of the world, “Love thy neighbor as thyself.” Christ, some of the other great Jewish teachers, Buddha, all preached it. Their followers forgot it. What is the trouble between capital and labor, what is the trouble in many of our communities, but rather a universal forgetting that this teaching is one of our first obligations. When we center on our own home, our own family, our own business, we are neglecting this fundamental obligation of every human being and until it is acknowledged and fulfilled we cannot have world peace.4
By 1924 Grandmère had defined for herself and was articulating for the women of the nation why it was important that women be involved in politics. She encouraged women to use the power that legislation had given them. “They have the vote, they have the power, but they don’t seem to know what to do with it,” she would often say. Her message to women was, “Get in the game and stay in it. Throwing mud from the outside won’t help. Building up from the inside will.” A woman needed to learn the machinations of politics, then she would know how “to checkmate as well as her masculine opponent. Or it may be that with time she will learn to make an ally of her opponent, which is even better politics.” Many people, not just women, were beginning to feel that Eleanor was emerging as a leader in her own right, perhaps becoming one of the most inspiring women of her generation. She became a feminist more by example rather than by the more vocal, activist route of many of her colleagues, always working with both men and women alike to improve the standards of society. She understood the benefits of interdependence and cooperation as a tool for achieving equality.
In 1933 Grandmère wrote a book entitled It’s Up to the Women, in which she philosophized on the role of women in family life, business, and politics. Her voice by then rang crystal clear, and the book became a landmark volume in a First Lady’s attempt to engage all women in the political process. Years later, when I read it, I was struck not so much by her beliefs regarding the importance of women and their responsibilities in every aspect of life but rather by the fact that her views, so simplistically stated in the book, were almost prophetic.
Eleanor Roosevelt stated things that would certainly be considered controversial by many modern women. And yet today she stands as one of the preeminent examples of the women’s liberation movement. In the book she said, “… it seems to me that the women have got to learn to work together even before they work with men, and they have got to be realistic in facing the social problems that have to be resolved.” Prophetic? It seems to me that this singular, very simple statement encapsulates the essence of the postwar women’s movement, a working together that is culminating in changes throughout all aspects of our lives and in every corner of the world. She went on to say, however, that “I have often thought that it sounded well to talk about women being on equal footing with men, and sometimes when I have listened to the arguments of the National Woman’s Party and they have complained that they could not compete in the labor market because restrictions were laid upon [women], I have been almost inclined to agree with them that such restrictions were unjust, until I came to realize that when all is said and done, women are different from men. They are equal in many ways, but they cannot refuse to acknowledge their differences.” Controversial? Perhaps, but what is remarkable is that her 1933 statements mirror much of what remains at the core of women’s progress since then and that which is still being achieved in the world today.
Nevertheless, as slow as her personal evolution may have been, she became one of the strongest advocates of the women’s movement in this country, and doubtlessly one of the most effective world protagonists in the social issues of women’s equality. It seems to me that her effectiveness came from the example she set both as a woman who had gained respect for her own thoughtful and reasoned views and from the role she fulfilled in the course of the nation’s history. Her peers and colleagues, as well as her detractors, respected her. As was once said, “You don’t have to like what Eleanor Roosevelt says, but you do have to listen to her.” Some thought she was brash and abrasive, but for millions of others she was their voice, saying things they could not or would not say on their own.
Missy LeHand, FDR’s devoted secretary for many years, is photographed here in Washington.
In the early twenties, while Eleanor gravitated toward politics, my grandfather continued to seek long-lasting improvements in his health. He had recovered some of his strength and had found that warm waters and balmy skies improved his condition greatly. He spent four months of every winter on a boat fishing and swimming off Florida’s sandy beaches while Grandmère remained in New York fulfilling the role of both mother and father to the children, who in 1924 ranged in age from eight (John) to eighteen (Anna). James and Elliott were at Groton, but Anna, Franklin Jr., and John were at home. Eleanor arranged for each of the children, who were either at boarding school or Springwood, to spend part of their winter holidays with their father, and employed Missy LeHand, a wonderfully competent factotum as both secretary and right hand, to take care of Franklin while she was in New York.
Sara disapproved of Franklin and Eleanor’s living arrangements, especially since Louis Howe had himself moved into their Sixty-fifth Street house, and she worried about rumors and scandals. But both Louis and Missy had become their essential helpers and were devoted in their support of the Roosevelts. In 1925 Franklin purchased in Warm Springs, Georgia, a rundown resort built around “a miracle of warm water” gushing from a fissure in the rock that “never varied in temperature and quantity.” Much of Grandfather’s time and financial resources were poured into Warm Springs, and eventually it prospered under his leadership. Even today the Warm Springs facility exists, providing therapeutic services to scores of disabled men, women, and children.
Grandmère felt a void of true intimacy and closeness with Franklin, but she was inclined to be silent and shrank from expressing her feelings to him, choosing instead to become as capable as she could in the forum of politics in order to help his career, even if her family responsibilities were by this time immense. To the staff of her households she became known as the most practical of people. These unusual arrangements, however, enabled her to develop her own style of life and work, and this was something she was not willing to give up. Although very devoted to Grandfather’s political future, Grandmère was now equally devoted to her own course and determined to maintain it. Her work was highly rewarding, she was making new and lasting friendships, felt appreciated, and finally able to trust that her work too was important. The relationship with Grandfather had given her a degree of freedom few women in her position enjoyed, and he trusted her implicitly to be his ally and partner in his life as well as career.
While Franklin recuperated his physical strengths in Georgia, Grandmère tried to be as present for her children as she was able, making frequent trips to Groton and writing letters to each child that she forwarded to Franklin so they could discuss issues in their education. My uncle James entered Harvard in 1926, following family tradition, but my father expressed a desire to go to Princeton instead. Aunt Anna became engaged to Curtis Dall, a stock-broker ten years her senior, and she was married at twenty in 1926. Sara offered Anna and Curtis a splendid apartment in Manhattan as a wedding gift without consulting either Grandmère or FDR, a situation that angered Grandmère, as she believed that such a luxurious apartment would commit the newlyweds to a lifestyle they could not afford. Anna and her husband moved into the apartment nevertheless, and in 1927 Anna Eleanor Dall (“Sistie”), Eleanor and Franklin’s first grandchild, was born.
Val-Kill as it appeared just prior to the beginning of construction. The secluded land was part of the larger 1,000 acre family estate.
A Place of Her Own
Much to her dismay, Grandmère’s problems with Sara pe
rsisted. Poor Sara could never quite reconcile herself with Eleanor living her own life while Franklin mixed the search for a physical recovery with business and politics, and so she attempted at every opportunity to implant herself in their lives in hopes of reestablishing her lost dominance in their daily affairs. Eleanor’s answer to these intrusions was to distance herself from Sara as much as possible, and in 1924 she persuaded Franklin to allow her, Nancy Cook, and Marion Dickerman to build a modest but comfortable stone cottage beside the Fal-Kill brook. Aunt Anna understood that Grandmère needed her independence:
Father realized that Mother was reaching out and needed friends independently of the Big House and Granny and that she needed her own life and he wanted to encourage her as much as he could. The evidence of that is that he drew up the original plans for the Val-Kill Cottage.5
Left: An example of the beautiful furniture produced at the Val Kill Industries factory. Right: ER with Nancy Cook, designer of most of the furniture produced by the factory. Val-Kill furniture remains today much sought-after by antique dealers.
Grandfather wrote Elliot Brown, whom he had chosen to supervise the building project, “My Missus and some of her female political friends want to build a shack on a stream in the back woods and want, instead of a beautiful marble bath, to have the stream dug out so as to form an old fashioned swimming hole.” On New Year’s Day, 1925, the three women had their first meal at Val-Kill Cottage, sitting on nail kegs and using a crate as a table. Val-Kill was from the beginning a refuge and sanctuary for Grandmère, who considered it the first home she could truly call her own. The children and Grandfather loved Springwood, but Grandmère never felt at home there. Not only did she have to ask Sara’s permission to invite friends and the women she worked with for informal lunches and dinners, but there were no traces of her own personality within the walls of that stately house. At Val-Kill she was free to see whomever she wanted whenever she wanted; to hold meetings where important issues about her work were discussed as well as to simply relax in a place she could call her own. And it was here that she, Nancy, and Marion began their factory, Val-Kill Industries.
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