by FDR
At Hyde Park FDR worked over his inaugural address. Moley arrived on February 27 with a draft he had prepared from notes taken on the train. Roosevelt rewrote the draft in longhand on yellow legal pads, reading the sentences aloud, cutting here, adding there, committing the words to memory. At 1:30 on the morning of February 28 the draft was complete, save for the reference to fear, which FDR added the next day.* The final paragraph, invoking God’s guidance, was written by Roosevelt after his arrival in Washington.77
On March 1, the president-elect left Hyde Park for New York City, where he spent the night. That day the governors of Kentucky and Tennessee declared bank holidays, followed in the evening by California, Louisiana, Alabama, and Oklahoma. By March 4, thirty-eight states, including New York and Illinois, had closed their banks. The New York Stock Exchange suspended trading on March 4, as did the Chicago Board of Trade.
Roosevelt’s response to the crisis was similar to his reaction in Miami: serene and confident, unruffled and unafraid. His outward demeanor betrayed no sign of worry. Franklin is not a worrier, Sara told Jim Farley. “His disposition is such that he can accept responsibilities and not let them wear him down.”78 Roosevelt declined to make any public comment or take any action until he had the constitutional authority to do so. In his view, Hoover, as president, should do as he thought best. FDR would act when the time came. In the meantime he refused to make any joint statement and declined to give blanket approval to whatever action the Hoover administration might take. That was less of a problem than it might appear because Hoover still clung to his restricted view of executive power. On March 2 and again on March 3 he rejected the advice of his secretary of the Treasury and the chairman of the Federal Reserve Board that he invoke the emergency powers given the president under World War I’s Trading with the Enemy Act (which was still on the books79) and issue a proclamation closing the nation’s banks, embargo the shipment of gold abroad, and limit the exchange of dollars into foreign currency.
Saturday, March 4, dawned dull and dreary in Washington, the sky overcast with the final days of winter. Homeless men, disheveled and threadbare, wandered the deserted streets in search of a breakfast handout. Under the leafless trees the flags flew at half-mast in honor of Senator Walsh. It was as if the nation’s gloom had settled over the city. Roosevelt began the day at 10 A.M. with a precedent-setting prayer service at St. John’s Episcopal Church, directly across Lafayette Square from the White House.* He was joined by his family and personal staff, plus the members of the cabinet and their families, some hundred people altogether. At FDR’s request, the Reverend Endicott Peabody, still paterfamilias to a growing legion of Groton old boys, presided over the brief service. After reading the appropriate selections from the Book of Common Prayer, the elderly Peabody offered a special request, asking God “Thy favor to behold and bless Thy servant, Franklin, chosen to be President of the United States.” Roosevelt selected the hymns and psalms and joined in heartily as the choir led the small congregation in “Faith of Our Fathers” and “O God, Our Help in Ages Past.” When the service ended, FDR remained on his knees for some time, his face cupped in his hands, in private prayer, his thoughts to himself.
Shortly before eleven, Roosevelt, in striped pants, cutaway, and silk hat, arrived at the porticoed north entrance to the White House. Breaking with custom again, FDR remained in the car while the presidential party assembled in the East Room. Soon President Hoover joined him, sitting to his right as protocol required. Eleanor rode in the second car with Mrs. Hoover. The seven-car procession, escorted by a troop of cavalry, began its two-mile journey up Pennsylvania Avenue to the Capitol. Roosevelt attempted to make conversation, but except for a brief exchange in which Hoover asked FDR if he might provide a position for the president’s administrative assistant, the two sat in silence.80 Happily, the ride was a short one. After the inaugural ceremonies they never saw each other again, although they were often in the same city. Hoover, the scapegoat from central casting, retired into domestic exile only to reappear every four years at Republican conventions, much to the delight of Democratic carnivores.
As required by statute, the vice president was sworn in first. Standing in the well of the Senate chamber, Vice President Charles Curtis, president of the Senate, swore in John Nance Garner as his successor. He then declared the Senate of the Seventy-second Congress adjourned sine die. Garner called the Seventy-third Senate to order and then recessed it until two o’clock, when it would reconvene to consider FDR’s cabinet nominees. When the ceremony ended, there was a rush to the inaugural stand at the east front of the Capitol. When the thousand or so guests were seated, a bugle sounded, followed by ruffles and flourishes, and the Marine Band, resplendent in scarlet and gold, broke into the “President’s March.” Franklin Roosevelt, braced on the arm of his eldest son, James, began his laborious walk to the rostrum, 146 feet away. Watching the scene, the veteran broadcaster Ed Hill observed that if this man had the courage to lift himself by sheer willpower from the bed of invalidism, had the determination and patience to make himself walk, then he must have within him the qualities to lead the nation to recovery.81
Charles Evans Hughes, chief justice of the United States, wearing the black robes of office, stood at the center of the platform to meet him. On the table beside Hughes rested the Dutch family Bible brought to the New World by Claes van Rosenvelt in the 1650s—upon which Roosevelt had twice taken the oath as governor of New York. It was opened to the thirteenth verse of the thirteenth chapter of Paul’s First Epistle to the Corinthians: “And now abideth faith, hope, charity, all three; but the greatest of these is charity.” FDR had proposed, and Hughes agreed, that he should repeat the oath word for word rather than simply say “I do.”82 As Hughes intoned the constitutional text, Roosevelt recited after him: “I, Franklin Delano Roosevelt, do solemnly swear that I will faithfully execute the office of President of the United States and will, to the best of my ability, preserve, protect, and defend the Constitution of the United States.” The chief justice ritually added the words “So help me God,” which Roosevelt repeated.83
Roosevelt shook hands with Hughes, then pivoted to face the audience drawn up in front of the inaugural stand: 150,000 people spread over forty acres facing the Capitol. In the background, the howitzers of the 5th Field Artillery fired a twenty-one-gun salute. As the cannons boomed, the sun briefly broke through the clouds, and the new president was on cue. “This is a day of national consecration,” said FDR, invoking divine guidance as he would throughout the speech. The vast crowd stilled, sensing the destiny of the moment. Roosevelt’s voice was firm and reassuring, instilling confidence by tone and example. “This great Nation will endure as it has endured, will revive and will prosper. So, first of all, let me assert my firm belief that the only thing we have to fear is fear itself—nameless, unreasoning, unjustified terror which paralyzes needed efforts to convert retreat into advance.”
Roosevelt spoke for fifteen minutes—brief as inaugural addresses go, but the words were memorable, exceeding even Lincoln’s magnificent second inaugural in their immediate impact. The most pressing problem was to put people to work, said FDR, and the government must take the lead. “We must act and act quickly.” After briefly laying out his program, Roosevelt said he would recommend to Congress “the measures that a stricken Nation in the midst of a stricken world may require.” Should Congress fail to act, “I shall not evade the clear course of duty that will then confront me. I shall ask the Congress for the one remaining instrument to meet the crisis—broad Executive power to wage a war against the emergency, as great as the power that would be given me if we were in fact invaded by a foreign foe.” For a nation desperate for leadership, Roosevelt had assumed the burden. He closed by asking God’s blessing: “May He protect each and every one of us. May He guide me in the days to come.”84
Frances Perkins said the scene was like a revival meeting.85 Roosevelt understood the spiritual need of the people, the need for hope, not despai
r, and he provided it. FDR did not wear his religion on his sleeve. Neither did he believe he was the instrument of God’s will. His beliefs, while deeply held, were basically very simple.* And he never hesitated to share them with his audience.
The effect of the speech was electrifying, the praise all but unanimous. The dreary years of Hoover’s excuses passed into oblivion. No one doubted that a new era had begun. Myron C. Taylor, the chairman of United States Steel Corporation, said “I hasten to re-enlist to fight the depression to its end.” Frederic E. Williamson, president of the New York Central, liked the speech’s brevity and force: “I feel that its directness presages immediate and forceful action.” Francis H. Sisson, head of the American Bankers Association, said, “I regard the message as a very courageous and inspiring appeal to the American people for their cooperation and confidence.” Newspaper and congressional support was overwhelming. Raymond Moley boasted, “He’s taken the ship of state and turned it around.” Eleanor said simply, “It was very solemn and a little terrifying.”86
After a brief buffet luncheon at the White House, Roosevelt took his place on the reviewing stand, a replica of the portico of Andrew Jackson’s “Hermitage” in Nashville. For partisan Democrats, the fighting spirit of Old Hickory (not the intellectual reflections of Thomas Jefferson) was the lifeblood of the party, and no effort was spared to cast FDR in Jackson’s image. Roosevelt loved parades, and the inaugural procession of 1933—six miles in length, with forty marching bands and delegations from every state—was one of the largest on record. FDR had wanted General John J. Pershing to be grand marshal, but the elderly Pershing was ill in Arizona and General Douglas MacArthur acted in his stead. For almost three hours Roosevelt and MacArthur stood side by side reviewing the passing contingents. The State of New York was represented by the braves of Tammany Hall in full regalia, led by Al Smith striding along on foot. He waved his famous brown derby at the reviewing stand and Roosevelt wagged his silk hat in return. The sharpest political statement was made by a well-rehearsed troupe of African Americans pushing whirring lawn mowers down Pennsylvania Avenue—a parody of Hoover’s prediction that grass would grow in the streets following Roosevelt’s victory.
At dusk the president left the reviewing stand and returned to the White House, where a reception for several thousand guests was in progress. Roosevelt avoided the throng and slipped upstairs to the Lincoln Study, where the members of his cabinet, confirmed that afternoon, had assembled. He then presided over a joint swearing-in of the entire cabinet as Supreme Court justice Benjamin Cardozo administered the oaths in order, beginning with Secretary of State Hull. “No Cabinet has ever been sworn in before in this way,” said FDR. “I am glad all of you were confirmed without opposition.”87
From the study Roosevelt rushed back downstairs to greet thirteen children on crutches who had come at his invitation from Warm Springs to attend the inauguration. That evening the president and Eleanor dined with seventy-two Roosevelts and their kin in the State Dining Room. Cousin Alice called it “a riot of pleasure. I went with great alacrity and enthusiasm and had a lovely, malicious time.”88 Afterward Eleanor took five carloads of relatives to the inaugural ball, a massive gala at the Washington Auditorium attended by eight thousand guests who had paid the equivalent of $150 a couple, the money donated to charity.*
Roosevelt did not attend. After dinner he returned upstairs to the Lincoln Study, where he and Louis Howe talked over the events of the day. They had waited for this day for twenty-two years, and the two old fighters reminisced. At 10:30 the president turned out the lights and went to bed.
* The Roosevelts were accompanied by FDR’s old sailing companion George Briggs and FDR’s cousin Bobby Delano, son of Sara’s brother Lyman. The boat, Myth II, was owned by Mr. and Mrs. Prescott Butler Huntington of St. James, New York, and was described by Mrs. Huntington as “ancient.” “It was an old boat. It leaked, and everybody knew it leaked.” James said, “I was nervous the whole trip because if heavy weather came out we might lose both a father and a presidential candidate.” Robert F. Cross, Sailor in the White House: The Seafaring Life of FDR 58 (Annapolis, Md.: Naval Institute Press, 2003).
* Farley signed his mail in the evening, sometimes devoting six hours to the task. “I have been asked if my hand gets cramped or tired from steady letter-signing. On occasion it does, but not often. When that happens, I hold it under the cold water for a few moments, then flex the fingers back and forth, repeating each process until the circulation returns. After five or ten minutes it is usually possible for me to resume without any ill effects. If there were no interruptions, I have been able to sign very close to 2,000 letters an hour.” James A. Farley, Behind the Ballots 195 (New York: Harcourt, Brace and Co., 1938).
* To convert 1932 dollars, multiply by 14. Robert C. Sahr, “Currency Conversion Factors, 1700 to estimated 2012,” Oregon State University, Corvallis, Oregon.
* In fairness to Ike, he urged MacArthur to remain at the War Department and leave the operation to the troop commanders but was overruled. “MacArthur has decided to go into active command in the field,” the chief of staff replied, speaking as he often did in the third person. “There is incipient revolution in the air.” William Manchester, American Caesar: Douglas MacArthur, 1880–1964 150 (Boston: Little, Brown, 1978). Also see Dwight D. Eisenhower, At Ease: Stories I Tell to Friends 216 (New York: Doubleday, 1967).
* “We underrated Long’s ability to grip the masses,” wrote Farley after the election. “He put on a great show and everywhere he went we got the most glowing reports of what he had accomplished for the Democratic cause.… If we had sent Huey into the thickly populated cities of the Pennsylvania mining districts, the electoral vote of the Keystone State would have gone to the Roosevelt-Garner ticket by a comfortable margin.” Farley, Behind the Ballots 171.
* Stimson served as secretary of war under Taft from 1911 to 1913 and as secretary of state under Hoover, 1929–1933. He was FDR’s secretary of war (and then President Truman’s) from 1940 to 1945.
* In January 1935 John Boettiger married Franklin and Eleanor’s daughter, Anna, following her divorce from Curtis Dall.
* The Twentieth (“Lame Duck”) Amendment, changing inauguration day from March 4 to January 20, was not added to the Constitution until January 23, 1933, and did not become effective until 1937.
* One of FDR’s first acts upon assuming office was to ask Congress for authorization to impose an embargo on the shipment of weapons to Bolivia and Paraguay, then engaged in a war for control of the headwaters of the Chaco River. Congress complied; Roosevelt proclaimed the embargo; and Curtiss-Wright Corporation violated it by attempting to ship sixteen machine guns to Bolivia, setting the stage for one of the landmark decisions of the Supreme Court pertaining to the nature of foreign affairs and the scope of executive authority, United States v. Curtiss-Wright, 299 U.S. 304 (1936). Justice George Sutherland, speaking for the Court, held that the authority to conduct foreign affairs was inherent in the national government and did not depend upon express grants in the Constitution. Sutherland’s dictum that the president is the “sole organ” of American foreign relations is often quoted, frequently out of context.
* FDR was the first president to use the telephone extensively. Wilson had a telephone installed at the White House, but it was not in his office. Hoover was the first to have one on his desk, but he rarely used it. Perhaps because of his immobility, Roosevelt had learned the advantages of telephoning and was a master at the instrument. He had the entire White House wired and by his own testimony spent about a third of each day on the phone. Roughly a hundred people had direct access to FDR, and Hackmeister put them through without reference to Missy or Howe. Charles Hurd, When the New Deal Was Young and Gay 117 (New York: Hawthorn Books, 1965); John Gunther, Roosevelt in Retrospect 125 (New York: Harper & Brothers, 1950).
* When five Democratic senators suggested to Raymond Moley that Hull was too idealistic and might not be up to the job of secretary of s
tate, Roosevelt dismissed their concern out of hand. “You tell the senators I’ll be glad to have some fine idealism in the State Department.” Raymond Moley, After Seven Years 114 (New York: Harper & Brothers, 1939).
* James Roosevelt Roosevelt (“Rosy”), who died in 1927, had been married to Helen Astor, the daughter of the Mrs. Astor, the fabled arbiter of New York society.
* Cermak had stacked the galleries at Chicago Stadium with Smith supporters and needed forgiveness. Chicago’s schoolteachers were working without salary, and Cermak was desperately seeking federal assistance. Farley wrote later that Cermak would not have had to go to Miami “if he had jumped on our bandwagon” after the first ballot. James A. Farley, The Jim Farley Story 21–22 (New York: Whittlesey House, 1948).
* Louis Howe’s draft introduction, which Roosevelt received on February 28, contained the sentence “The only thing we have to fear is fear itself.” FDR added the sentence and embellished it. Some have noted the resemblance to Henry David Thoreau’s “nothing is so much to be feared as fear,” but Moley, who was with Roosevelt when the speech was put in final form, discounts the link. Raymond Moley, The First New Deal 96–124 (New York: Harcourt, Brace, 1966). And the fact is, the concept has a lengthy history. Francis Bacon said essentially the same thing in De Argumentis Scientiarum, Book VI, chapter III, early in the seventeenth century: “Nil terrible nisi ipse timor.” 2 The Works of Francis Bacon 476, James Spedding, Robert Leslie Ellis, and Douglas Denon Heath, eds. (New York: Hurd and Houghton, 1872).
