And so it was that during the first hundred days of his presidency, Franklin had engineered the greatest reformation in law ever passed through Congress; changes that would help sustain and relieve the country from its economic doldrums. And throughout these hectic whirlwind days, Grandmère stood by his side and allied herself completely to his vision. The star of Eleanor Roosevelt was now shining brightly over America.
From March to the end of 1933, that first year of FDR’s administration and her first at the forefront of the rapidly changing landscape, Grandmère began her outreach to the nation by simply stating “I want you to write to me,” and as a result she received more than three hundred thousand pieces of personal mail—an unprecedented amount for any First Lady. Of course, much of this correspondence was making requests, some of which were quite humorous and unrealistic. One letter, for example, came from a woman who wrote asking Grandmère to find a baby the woman could adopt. Before Grandmère could respond, the lady wrote again saying that if Eleanor was successful in finding the baby, the woman would need a cow, and if she had both baby and cow she would need a new icebox to keep the milk in!
Grandmère and Louis Howe enjoying a bit of relaxation at Campobello, Louis’ last trip before his death in 1934.
Dark Forebodings
In the autumn of 1934 Louis Howe fell gravely ill, and through the months of winter Franklin and Eleanor’s faithful advisor grew progressively weaker. After bronchial collapse in January 1935, he was taken from the Lincoln Bedroom at the White House to the hospital, where Grandmère would visit him daily. Grandfather, despite being extremely busy with the reelection campaign, allowed Louis’ direct line to him to continue to be switched on from 10:00 A.M. till 4:00 P.M. daily to maintain the appearance that Louis was fully involved in the campaign, as he had been in all political moves of both Roosevelts, and to keep open the link with his old friend, whom he could not often visit in hospital.
On April 18, 1935, Louis finally slipped away quietly while asleep and the president ordered the White House flag to be half-mast in his honor. No one would ever replace Louis in Grandmère’s heart, for he had been the Pygmalion who had helped her transform into a wise and shrewd politician and a motivating factor in Franklin’s own stellar political career.
Louis shared my grandfather’s love of ship models, and it was said that he himself was an accomplished “modeler.”
Mentor and advisor to both Grandmère and FDR for so many years, Louis Howe passed away in April 1935.
If the president and his First Lady had captured America’s imagination, many Republicans were completely hostile to his politics and desperately wanted him ousted in the 1936 election. During his campaign in 1935 Franklin once more gave women an increased budget and larger space at headquarters, for he viewed their involvement as crucial to his political strategy. At the 1936 Democratic convention, in Philadelphia, he exhilarated and motivated people by outlining the challenges his administration had conquered and encouraging them to follow him in facing new difficulties and new problems, the continued work needed to climb out of the darkness of the Depression. One of his best remembered sentences, “This generation of Americans has a rendezvous with destiny,” made the crowds nearly crazy. He masterfully used Republican hatred to his advantage:
Never before in all our history have these forces been so united against one candidate as they stand today. They are unanimous in their hatred for me—and I welcome their hatred.
I should like to have it said of my first administration that in it the forces of selfishness and of lust for power met their match. I should like to have it said of my second administration that in it these forces met their master.11
Always at Springwood for his election night results, this for his second term in 1936, with from left to right, Anna and her husband, Sara, FDR on my uncle Jim’s arm, and Grandmere.
When they heard the news of Franklin’s victory, Eleanor was awed by the feeling the country expressed in the election returns and the messages that flooded into Springwood, where the family had gone to await the returns. This was a powerful demonstration of the pact the president had forged with the people during his first term of the presidency. This pact was sealed even more deeply as a second term of new challenges loomed ahead.
In the next four years Grandmère would gain even greater strength as First Lady; her determination would sharpen, her efforts increase, and her influence over those closest to the president become a force to be reckoned with. She would act as a filter for him, offering clarity and cutting through the obfuscations of the sycophants. Under her tutelage civic organizations thrived, and she was a relentless supporter of dozens of associations that promised to better the condition of minorities, women, children, and society. Her “back door” route to the president often caused insecurity among his advisors, who feared she had the more powerful influence over him. At times she was regarded as misguided about issues. But Grandmère never abused her prerogative, and the back door remained opened to her, for Franklin not only welcomed her influence but needed her to help formulate his own political opinions.
Despite Franklin’s reliance on her as a “pulse” of the public’s perception of the administration, he too could become frustrated by her constant entreaties. Their White House was in many respects divided into two households, Franklin’s and Eleanor’s, and both demanded absolute loyalty from their friends and associates. Harry Hopkins, for instance, was someone Eleanor had cultivated for years, but when he “defected” to become Franklin’s most trusted advisor and closest friend, Grandmère felt secretly betrayed by him. It was Grandmère who had originally brought him into the fold of the White House. She had met him through her friendship with his first wife, Barbara, and had worked diligently to arrange for Harry to get to know her friends by inviting them to Hyde Park, Val-Kill. At the White House, whenever she knew FDR would be available, she would take pains to have Harry in evidence. Grandfather himself found Hopkins to be “most congenial company” and in time a brilliant tactician, impressions shared by his two closest personal advisors, Louis Howe and Missy LeHand. In fact, it was shortly following the 1936 election that Grandmère, assuming that this would be FDR’s final term in office, began positioning Harry as a possible successor to the presidency, a prospect Grandfather did not find altogether remote. In 1938 he named Harry his Secretary of Commerce, an appointment designed to groom him into a viable candidate and transform him from merely a “warm-hearted social worker into a hard-headed business-statesman.” Following Barbara’s death in 1937 Grandmère became even closer to Harry, and in 1938 she worried over his health, a concern chronicled in a memorandum Harry left for his daughter, Diana:
Harry Hopkins, long an acquaintance of Grandmère and introduced to FDR by her, became a close advisor to both. He was a supporter within the administration of many, but not all of Grandmère’s causes.
Just before Christmas in 1938 Mrs. Roosevelt came out to our house in Georgetown to see me.
At that time I was feeling none too well… she told me she thought I seemed to be disturbed about something and wondered if it was a feeling that something might happen to me and that there was no proper provision for you. She told me that she had been thinking about it a good deal and wanted me to know that she would like for me to provide in my will that she, Mrs. Roosevelt, be made your guardian.12
My grandfather had a marvelous sense of humor. In this never-before published photograph (left), FDR is depicted as the “Imperial President” at an annual Gridiron Club dinner of news correspondents.
The President is surrounded by his “Vestal Virgins,” including Nancy Cook, Missy LeHand, et al. at a White House birthday celebration.
Harry’s health declined until 1940. During a White House dinner party he became so ill that FDR insisted that he “stay the night.” From that night on Harry Hopkins remained a resident of the Lincoln Bedroom, the same room that had only recently been home of another beloved advisor, Louis Howe. Even before becomi
ng a resident, Harry had successfully filled the void left by Louis’ death, and he soon became ingratiated with FDR. And although always a loving devote of Grandmère, Harry transferred his loyalty completely to the president.
Perhaps because of their intimate and yet in some ways remote personal relationship, Grandmère felt at times a greater sense of insecurity as a result of the influence people like Harry Hopkins and Missy LeHand had on her husband. She feared the overly relaxed atmosphere at his cocktail hour and shied away from the kind of gossip Grandfather enjoyed. Unable to let herself go she was threatened when her husband was overly intimate and cozy with his friends. Perturbed, she would retreat to her own set of rooms or leave the White House altogether and seek refuge at her apartment in Manhattan or at Val-Kill; sometimes she would simply bury herself in yet another new enterprise.
Her absences created an opportunity for other women to move in and get close to FDR. He was an immensely attractive man to whom women had always been drawn, and now that he was seen as the most powerful person in the world his allure was even stronger. My father, Elliott, was the first to publicly suggest that there might have been a possible affair with Missy LeHand, his faithful, tireless, and completely loyal assistant for over twenty years, and others suspected that Franklin might also have been involved with Crown Princess Martha of Norway, the beautiful and young wife of King Olav.
My grandfather’s relationship with Missy developed over the years into one of complete faith and trust, and most probably they shared a deep feeling for each other… perhaps love. She was a tall, handsome woman with large blue eyes and distinctive prematurely gray hair. Many of the staff at the White House considered Missy almost a second wife to the president and took her orders very seriously, for they knew Franklin would always back her up. The fact that Missy never married would seem to indicate more than a superficial devotion to my grandfather, and quite often she would serve as an unofficial hostess at both formal and informal affairs. Missy, in failing health, retired from her duties in 1940 and returned to her native Massachusetts. In 1941 she suffered a debilitating stroke and remained an invalid for the remainder of her life. The extent to which FDR cared for her is demonstrated by a provision in his own last will and testament, in which he provided that all of Missy’s medical expenses be paid out of the estate’s income, up to 50 percent, with only the remainder going to support Grandmère.
Grandmère with Crown Prince Olav and Princess Martha of Norway in 1941. It was believed that Princess Martha reciprocated FDR’s attentions and affection.
Princess Martha, on the other hand, was beautiful, young, and impressionable—and obviously enthralled by the attentions of my much older but still handsome grandfather. Martha’s father was a Swedish prince, her mother a Danish princess, and she an only child when she met her first cousin and future husband Prince Olav, the son of King Haakon VII of Norway, whose younger sister was Martha’s mother. Their marriage produced three beautiful children: princesses Ragnhild and Astrid and prince Harald, the present king of Norway. My grandfather had met both Olav and Martha in the spring of 1939 when the royal couple traveled to the United States to dedicate the Norwegian exhibit at the World’s Fair. From the moment he laid eyes upon her, Franklin was enthralled by her beauty and sparkling personality. Olav and Martha accepted an invitation from Grandfather to spend a weekend at Springwood, to the utter delight of Sara, where they attended a picnic, a concert, and a large country dinner. Even today that visit is commemorated by a photograph standing among those of other royal visitors in the “Dresden Room” at Springwood.
The Nazi invasion of Norway in April 1940 gravely endangered the royal family, and Martha and the children accepted my grandfather’s offer of asylum. Martha arrived at Springwood with her children, her lady-in-waiting (who sported a tattoo on her arm), the court chamberlain, and a retinue of servants.
Princess Martha and her children later moved to a mansion in Washington, D.C., where she and FDR continued to see each other for “tea.” Diana Hopkins Halstead, Harry Hopkins’ daughter, who moved into the White House with him, recounts how her stepmother Louise, Harry’s second wife, was frequently asked to fill the uncomfortable role of chaperone:
She worked as a nurse’s aid at the Columbia Hospital, and she’d go off in the morning and come back in the afternoon. The president began to rely on her as his chaperone to go and visit Princess Martha. Mummy would get home from the hospital, and there would be a message that “the president wants you to go to tea with Princess Martha—now.” No time to get out of the uniform, nothing—and zap, off to Princess Martha’s house. Then they’d get there, and Princess Martha would say. “Louise, why don’t you go and see the children.” And so Louise would go and see the children, and the president and Princess Martha would have tea, and this was one hell of a tough situation for Mummy to get into. But she did it with as much grace as she had.13
A hopeless flirt, FDR once observed, “Nothing is more pleasing to the eye than a good-looking lady, nothing more refreshing to the spirit than the company of one, nothing more flattering to the ego than the affection of one.” However, it is doubtful that after his affliction with polio there was much chance that he was capable of any significant physical intimacy. I am told that, although not certainly, his paralysis probably caused impotence as well.
Grandfather’s continuous flirting must have been trying for Grandmère. Such flirtatious behavior was so totally foreign to her that she could never make peace with this side of his nature. She often felt rejected and usually simply withdrew from it all.
The War Years
The clouds of uncertainty and anxiety have been hanging over us for a long time.
Now we know where we are.
—Eleanor Roosevelt
WHILE THE NATIONS OF THE WORLD were waging savage war against each other in 1940, the United States, still maintaining its isolationist stance, was preparing for another presidential election. Third terms for presidents had never been the custom of the country. From the early preparations of the Democratic campaign until almost the last minute Franklin kept his plans veiled from everyone, including his wife and children. He played with time and innuendo to fuel speculations as to whether he would submit his name in candidacy for another four years of presidency.
Grandmère had her own strong views on the issue; she felt sure that once they left the White House she would find plenty of interesting work that would be uniquely hers. She also looked forward to being able to live her life more freely, developing in ways that were impossible while she remained First Lady. When Bess Furman, the Associated Press reporter, asked her to sum up the last thirty years as the wife of an officeholder, Grandmère replied tellingly, “It’s hell.” She could also be humorous about the requirements expected from the wife of a public man:
Always be on time. Never try to make personal arrangements. Do as little talking as humanly possible. Never be disturbed by anything. Always do what you’re told to do as quickly as possible. Remember to lean back in a parade, so that people can see your husband. Don’t get too fat to ride three on a seat. Get out of the way as quickly as you’re not needed.1
Even though she proved herself incredibly skilled at combining the social duties of First Lady with her own interesting and varied life, her position would have tested the patience of a saint: In 1939 Tommy reckoned Grandmère had 4,729 people for meals; 323 houseguests; 9,211 tea guests; and received (meaning received but didn’t feed) 14,056 people, totaling 28,319 White House attendances in all!2
The threat of war hung heavily upon America: Hitler’s armies and air force struck westward, invading the Low Countries, penetrating into France, seizing Paris, and outflanking the Maginot Line. Mussolini had entered the war, and desperate European leaders were deluging the White House with pleas for help. Staunch pacifists such as Archibald MacLeish, Walter Millis, and Harold Ickes were reluctantly admitting that the time was close when Congress would seriously have to consider joining the war. The pres
sure on Franklin mounted quickly, as it was felt that only he could successfully navigate the country to the safe shore of the New Deal, and that he was possibly the only Democratic leader Americans would trust in the event of the nation joining the Allied Forces. In June it became apparent to Eleanor that Franklin had made up his mind to submit his name for the Democratic nomination, and she promptly departed for her cottage at Val-Kill, away from the political chaos. The week of the Democratic convention, Grandmère was at her beloved cottage swimming, riding, playing tennis, and relaxing with Tommy. Then she received an urgent call from Chicago to come to the convention. Franklin had decided that he would personally not attend the convention, leaving the political machinations to his trusted advisors… except that perhaps his single most valuable counselor was absent from the convention floor.
I got a call from the convention begging me to come out. I called Franklin, and he said, “Well, would you like to go?” and I said, “No, I wouldn’t like to go. I’m very busy, and you told me I didn’t have to go.” He said, “Well, perhaps they seem to think it might be well if you came out.” And I said, “But do you really want me to go?” and he said, “Well, perhaps it would be a good idea.” So that meant, I suppose, that I had to go.3
Franklin had chosen the controversial Secretary of Agriculture Henry Wallace as his running mate, and the news had been greeted with boos and catcalls in the convention hall. The delegates threatened to revolt, and from the White House the president retaliated by threatening not to run. This was fuel for the fire for Republicans, who accused FDR of seeking a third term with the express wish to destroy the United States by leading it into war. In their view, he was attempting to establish himself in an “Imperial Presidency.” (Fortunately they never saw a jesting photograph of FDR taken at a news correspondents’ roast of the president, depicting him in exactly that pose!) The convention was spinning out of control. Eleanor, dressed in a simple blue silk coat and dress, arrived and performed what many would regard as a miracle:
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