by FDR
* After the economy measure was passed in March 1933, FDR and the Bureau of the Budget zeroed in on the Army to absorb a significant portion of the cuts. The 1934 military budget was to be slashed by $80 million, roughly 51 percent. But the necessity to get the CCC up and running placed a premium on military experience. Not only was the Army budget spared, but many reserve officers were recalled to active duty to manage the camps. William Manchester, American Caesar: Douglas MacArthur 154–156 (Boston: Little, Brown, 1978); Forrest C. Pogue, George C. Marshall: Education of a General 276–280 (New York: Viking Press, 1963).
† In current dollars the $1.5 billion disbursed would amount to roughly $21 billion, given a conversion factor of 13.89.
* The act established the Federal Emergency Administration of Public Works, commonly known as the Public Works Administration, and on July 8, 1933, FDR appointed Interior Secretary Harold Ickes to be the administrator. Between July 1933 and March 1939, the PWA financed the construction of more than 34,000 projects at a cost of more than $6 billion. Projects ran the gamut from lighthouses and battleships to municipal sewer systems. Approximately 1.2 million men were employed on site under the program. The PWA was dissolved in June 1941. 2 Public Papers and Addresses of Franklin D. Roosevelt 270–271. For the Public Works Administration generally, see America Builds: The Record of the PWA (Washington, D.C.: U.S. Government Printing Office, 1939).
* Tennessee, Alabama, Mississippi, Kentucky, Georgia, North Carolina, and Virginia.
* Utility shareholders quickly challenged the constitutionality of the TVA but lost in a powerful decision written for an all-but-unanimous Court (8–1) by Chief Justice Hughes. The Court upheld the act based on Congress’s authority to provide for national defense and to regulate interstate commerce. The sale of electricity—a by-product—was authorized by Article IV, section 3 of the Constitution, granting the federal government power to sell property it acquires lawfully. Ashwander v. TVA, 297 U.S. 288 (1936).
* In a scene reminiscent of Shays’ Rebellion in 1787, U.S. District Court judge Charles C. Bradley was dragged from the bench in Le Mars, Iowa, by angry farmers, beaten, thrown into a truck, and driven out of town, where he was nearly lynched for refusing to suspend mortgage foreclosures. Six counties in Iowa were placed under martial law, and Governor Clyde L. Herring called out the National Guard to maintain order. The unrest in Iowa was the tip of the iceberg.
* The legislation was challenged repeatedly and came before the Supreme Court in the “gold clause cases” of 1935: Norman v. Baltimore & Ohio Railroad, 294 U.S. 240; Nortz v. United States 294 U.S. 317; and Perry v. United States 294 U.S. 330. Speaking for a sharply divided Court (5–4), Chief Justice Hughes upheld the power of Congress to regulate the monetary system, including the power to override private contracts if they conflicted with that authority. “This is Nero at his worst,” chided Justice James McReynolds in dissent.
* Unaccompanied forays such as the one to Fort Hunt drove the Secret Service to despair. After the visit to the veterans, the White House detail gave Louis Howe two pistols: one for himself and one for ER. Eleanor carried hers dutifully, but Howe couldn’t be bothered, though he enjoyed waving it in the face of startled visitors in his office. Alfred E. Rollins, Jr., Roosevelt and Howe 386–387 (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1962). Eleanor had been taught to shoot during the Albany years by Sergeant Earl Miller. For ER’s refusal to accept Secret Service or police protection, see Joseph P. Lash, Eleanor and Franklin 367–368 (New York: W. W. Norton, 1971).
* In 1918 the Supreme Court had overturned the Keating-Owen Federal Child Labor Act, which forbade the interstate shipment of the products of factories, mines, and quarries that employed children under the age of fourteen or where children between the ages of fourteen and sixteen worked more than eight hours a day. “If Congress can thus regulate matters … by prohibition of the movement of commodities in interstate commerce, all freedom of commerce will be at an end,” said Justice William Day, speaking for the Court. Hammer v. Dagenhart, 247 U.S. 251 (1918). FDR believed that Justice Day’s reasoning would apply with equal force to the Black bill.
* The Emergency Banking Act was passed March 9, 1933; revision of the Volstead Act, March 16; the Economy Act, March 20; Civilian Conservation Corps, March 31; Federal Emergency Relief Act, May 12; Agricultural Adjustment Act, May 12; Emergency Farm Mortgage Act, May 12; Tennessee Valley Authority, May 18; Truth-in-Securities Act, May 27; abrogation of gold clauses in public and private contracts, June 5; Home Owners’ Loan Act, June 13; Glass-Steagall Banking Act, June 15; Farm Credit Act, June 15; Railroad Coordination Act, June 15; National Industrial Recovery Act, June 16, 1933.
SIXTEEN
NEW DEAL ASCENDANT
No president … has had a sharper sense of personal power, a sense of what it is and where it comes from; none has had more hunger for it, few have had more use for it, and only one or two could match his faith in his own competence to use it.
—RICHARD E. NEUSTADT, PRESIDENTIAL POWER
UNDER FDR THE WHITE HOUSE, like the governor’s mansion in Albany, resembled the Grand Hotel. There were overnight accommodations for twenty-one, and there was never a vacancy. Franklin and Eleanor continued to move in separate circles. “The White House had two kinds of visitors,” Chief Usher J. B. West said. “There were the President’s people, and then there were Mrs. Roosevelt’s people.” According to West, the Roosevelts lived entirely apart. “We never saw Eleanor and Franklin Roosevelt in the same room alone together.” When she met with him, which was not that often, “she always brought a sheaf of papers, a bundle of ideas. His secretary, Grace Tully, was usually there, or hers, Malvina Thompson.”1
FDR’s schedule in the White House differed little from his routine in Albany. He awoke around eight and breakfasted in bed, usually scrambled eggs, toast, orange juice, and coffee. While eating he scanned the morning press: The New York Times and Herald Tribune, The Washington Post, the Baltimore Sun, and one of the McCormick-Patterson papers, either the Chicago Tribune or the Washington Herald. He also leafed through the clipping file prepared by Louis Howe—jokingly referred to as the Daily Bugle. With breakfast FDR lit his first cigarette of the two packs of Camels he smoked daily, always through a long-stemmed ivory cigarette holder. While eating, shaving, and dressing, he held a leisurely, freewheeling staff conference. Louis Howe and Missy LeHand were always there, Moley when he was not teaching in New York, and in the beginning Lewis Douglas, the former congressman from Arizona whom Roosevelt had named director of the budget. About ten they would be joined by Marvin McIntyre and Steve Early to review the day’s calendar.2
Roosevelt’s bedroom was on the second floor of the White House, next to the Oval Study, facing south, and like his bedrooms at Hyde Park and Warm Springs it was primitively furnished, cluttered with memorabilia, and austerely comfortable in the simple way that seemed to suit old money. Frances Perkins called it too large to be cozy but not large enough to be impressive.
I have a photographic impression of that room. A Victorian mantelpiece held a collection of miniature pigs. Snapshots of children were propped up in back of the pigs. There was an old bureau between the windows, with a plain white towel on top and things men need for their dressing arrangements. There was an old-fashioned rocking chair, often with a piece of clothing thrown over it. Then there was the bed—not the kind you expect a President of the United States to have. Roosevelt used a small, narrow white iron bedstead, the kind one sees in the boy’s room of many an American house. It had a thin, hard-looking mattress, a couple of pillows, and an ordinary white seersucker spread. An old grey sweater, much the worse for wear, lay close at hand. He wore it over night clothes to keep his shoulders warm. A white painted table, the kind one often sees in bathrooms, stood beside the bed, with a towel over it and with aspirin, nose drops, a glass of water, stubs of pencils, bits of paper, a couple of books, a worn old prayer book, a watch, a package of cigarettes, an ash tray, a couple of telephones, all cluttered toge
ther. And over the door at the opposite end of the room hung a horse’s tail. When asked what that was, he would say, “Why, that’s Gloster’s tail.”3
As in Albany, Roosevelt worked with an extended family—staff, servants, and even cabinet officers treated as old friends. Louis Howe lived in the White House, as did Missy and Eleanor’s reporter friend Lorena Hickok. So too did the Roosevelts’ daughter, Anna, and her two children, Sisty and Buzzy. Anna was separated from her husband, Curtis Dall, and would soon marry John Boettiger, a reporter for the Chicago Tribune whom she had met during the 1932 campaign. The elfin Howe was assigned the Lincoln Bedroom but before moving in insisted that President Lincoln’s nine-foot bed be replaced with something less imposing.4
At 10:30 Roosevelt was wheeled downstairs to the Oval Office in the west wing of the White House, where he remained until about six. His appointments were set at fifteen-minute intervals, but he often ran behind. He used the telephone frequently and often placed calls himself. Members of the cabinet, agency heads, congressional leaders, and several dozen others could phone him directly. He ate a light lunch at his desk, often joined by someone from the Hill, a visiting publisher or journalist or simply a person he wished to talk to, such as Henry Stimson or Ed Flynn when they were in town.5 Twice a week he met the press and on Thursday afternoon the cabinet. Unlike a parliamentary system or even earlier presidencies, FDR’s cabinet was not a decision-making body. “Our cabinet meetings are pleasant affairs,” Harold Ickes observed, “but we only skim the surface of routine affairs.”* Between two and three Roosevelt handled his correspondence, dictating replies to either Missy or Grace Tully. The White House received upward of five thousand letters a day, and his staff had become expert at sorting out those items that required his attention. At six or so FDR would break off for a swim in the new White House pool (donated by New York City schoolchildren) and have a massage and perhaps a session with the White House physician, Navy admiral Ross T. McIntire.6 He liked nothing better than to play hooky and go for an occasional afternoon drive through Rock Creek Park or the surrounding countryside.
At seven, Roosevelt adjourned to the family quarters for the “children’s hour,” where he would play host to Louis and Missy, his military aide, Colonel Edwin “Pa” Watson, Grace Tully, and whoever else was on hand. Eleanor did not approve of FDR’s penchant for cocktail conviviality, never attended, and, as best one can tell, was never invited. With ice and glasses laid out in front of him, FDR merrily stirred classic martinis (heavy on the vermouth) or mixed old-fashioneds for his guests. “He mixed the ingredients with the deliberation of an alchemist,” his speechwriter Robert Sherwood recalled, “but with what appeared to be a certain lack of precision since he carried on a steady conversation while doing it.”7*
For Mrs. Roosevelt, afternoon tea took the place of the “children’s hour.” Every day at five o’clock ER poured tea for friends and guests in her second-floor sitting room. She also hosted tea service for female reporters at her press conferences. Presiding over the tea table was for Eleanor, a teetotaler, the psychic equivalent of mixing martinis in the Oval Study at seven.
FDR took dinner at eight, often with his cocktail guests, in the Oval Study. Formal dinners were held in the State Dining Room on the first floor. Unless it was a formal occasion, FDR did not change for dinner. Eleanor had dinner in the Private Dining Room on the first floor with a separate guest list. The men wore black tie. The Hoovers had dressed formally every night and always ate in the State Dining Room, even when they dined alone. President Hoover and his wife enjoyed eating well, and during the Hoover administration the White House fare was excellent. Under the Roosevelts, it was dreadful. Ernest Hemingway, a confirmed trencherman, called the White House food “the worst I’ve ever eaten. We had rainwater soup followed by rubber squab, a nice wilted salad and a cake some admirer had sent in. An enthusiastic but unskilled admirer.” Tallulah Bankhead, equally at home in the world of tasty cuisine, confessed to always eating a full meal before attending a White House dinner.8 Members of FDR’s official family were equally caustic. “I am not very fussy about my food,” wrote Harold Ickes, “but it does seem a little out of proportion to use a solid-gold knife and fork on ordinary roast mutton.”9 Grace Tully, almost a regular at the dinner table in the Oval Study, complained that it was like a boardinghouse: One could tell the day of the week by what was set out for dinner—tongue with caper sauce on Mondays, boiled beef without any sauce on Tuesday, and so on.10
Running the White House was exclusively Eleanor’s domain, part of the balance of power she and FDR had achieved. And given her extensive public commitments, she was determined to have someone assist her who was loyal and trustworthy. Social awareness, an ability to cook, even a knowledge of food and wine were secondary. The assistant she chose was Henrietta Nesbitt, a fifty-nine-year-old Hyde Park matron active in the League of Women Voters. Mrs. Nesbitt did some home baking that Eleanor enjoyed, and in late 1932, just before Christmas, ER invited her to take charge of running the White House. “I don’t want a professional housekeeper. I want someone I know. I want you, Mrs. Nesbitt.”11
Blanche Wiesen Cook called it Eleanor’s revenge. Mrs. Nesbitt, who had never been gainfully employed and had no supervisory experience, assumed the direction of a White House staff of twenty-six, including cooks, butlers, maids, pantry help, and waiters. “The housekeeper was one expression of her passive-aggressive behavior in a marriage of remarkable and labyrinthine complexity.”12 Mrs. Nesbitt believed in plain food, plainly prepared.13 “Some of the dishes I served regularly were corned-beef hash, poached eggs, and creamed chipped beef. Sometimes, if the food was too simple, the President made wisecracks, and I’d have to stir myself and think up something fancy.”14 James Roosevelt called her “the worst cook I’ve ever encountered.”15 Actually, Mrs. Nesbitt did little cooking. But as one firsthand observer noted, “she stood over the cooks, making sure that each dish was overcooked or undercooked or ruined in one way or another.”16 Mrs. Nesbitt was devoted to ER. She displayed contempt for the president’s desires. When FDR complained of being served liver and beans three days in a row, Mrs. Nesbitt dismissed it. “Well, he was supposed to have them!”17 If he ordered something special, she ignored it.18 When the King and Queen of England wanted coffee, Mrs. Nesbitt sent iced tea. “It was better for them.”19*
Roosevelt partially remedied the situation in 1941, after Sara died, when he brought her excellent cook, Mary Campbell, down from Hyde Park and installed her in the family kitchen on the third floor.20 During the presidential campaign in 1944, FDR confided to his daughter, Anna, and Grace Tully, not entirely in jest, that the real reason he wanted to be elected to a fourth term was “so I can fire Mrs. Nesbitt.”21 That privilege fell to President Harry Truman shortly after he assumed office. Mrs. Truman had been asked to bring a stick of butter for the potluck luncheon of the Senate wives’ bridge club. When Mrs. Nesbitt refused to give her one—the White House was rationed, she said—President Truman sent her packing that afternoon.22
FDR’s immediate staff was totally devoted to him and militantly nonideological. Their loyalty was personal. They avoided policy debates and would have followed the president in whatever direction he chose. Howe, Missy, and Grace Tully had been with him throughout the Albany years. Early, McIntyre, and Pa Watson were old Washington hands. All three were southerners: Early, the grandson of Confederate general Jubal Early, was from Virginia, McIntyre from Kentucky, and Watson from Alabama. Early and McIntyre, both former newsmen, handled the foibles of the press and members of Congress with unflappable aplomb. Watson, a much-decorated Army officer, had been an aide to Woodrow Wilson at Versailles and was a man with an eternally sunny outlook. “I have never known anyone just like him,” Ickes wrote. “He simply bubbles with good humor. He was great fun fishing and he was equally great fun playing poker. He could be relied upon to keep us all in a mellow humor, and this without any effort on his part, but simply by being himself.”23
P
oker and fishing were two of FDR’s diversions in the White House. Missy arranged the poker sessions, often at Harold Ickes’s suburban Maryland estate, where the food was certain to be good and the company congenial. In addition to Watson, Early, and McIntyre, the group usually included Harry Hopkins and Henry Morgenthau. Later, the lawyers William Douglas, Tommy Corcoran, and Robert H. Jackson joined the round—Corcoran with his accordion and Irish charm. Like the “children’s hour,” Roosevelt relished the convivial aspects of poker and played for penny-ante stakes. Vice President Garner, who took his poker as seriously as his bourbon, dismissed FDR’s sessions as “just for conversation.”24
In the evening after dinner Roosevelt read, watched a movie (two or three times a week), or worked on his stamp collection. His reading ran toward history and biography; among movies, he wanted something cheerful and not overly long. Mickey Mouse shorts were always on the bill.25 But it was his stamp collection that absorbed him. FDR took infinite pleasure in perusing philatelic catalogues and placing orders for obscure issues. By the time he entered the White House, his childhood collection had grown to more than 25,000 stamps in some forty albums. Sometime in the twenties he had begun to specialize, focusing on stamps from the Western Hemisphere and Hong Kong. Roosevelt asked the clerks in the White House mail room to be on the lookout for unusual stamps and literally spent hours alone in his upstairs study with tweezers and hinges, mounting new arrivals in his albums. Shortly before midnight he was wheeled into his bedroom and went to sleep—reportedly within five minutes from the time he was undressed. Unlike other presidents, Roosevelt instructed the Secret Service not to lock the doors of his room at night.26 He also removed the interior guards in the White House (Hoover had stationed two on each floor) and assigned the Secret Service to a post in the usher’s office off the north portico. Both FDR and Eleanor had no fear for their personal safety.
