Jean Edward Smith

by FDR

  The president’s statement received front-page treatment. “Roosevelt Warns Germans on Jews,” bannered The New York Times. It was broadcast by the BBC and translated into many languages throughout Europe, and copies were dropped behind enemy lines. Rarely has there been a more explicit announcement of American intentions. And rarely was there so little the United States could do.

  In postwar years the question has often been raised whether the United States should have bombed the death camps or at least the rail lines running to them. There is no evidence that Roosevelt was ever approached about the matter.56 When John Pehle raised the issue with the War Department in the summer of 1944, John J. McCloy rejected the proposal as impractical.57 The U.S. Strategic Air Force in Europe concurred.58 General Marshall firmly opposed any operation not aimed specifically at enemy forces, and Eisenhower, who had his hands full moving against the Siegfried Line, resisted any diversion from the main effort.59 If Roosevelt had been consulted, there is no question that he would have backed the military. Aside from the fact that the president never intervened in tactical matters, he firmly believed that the most effective way to save the Jews from Hitler was to defeat Germany as quickly as possible.*

  Harvard’s Alan Dershowitz put the matter into perspective:

  Roosevelt was a man with considerable, but certainly not unlimited, power to influence the course of events in Europe. And he prioritized the use of that power in what he believed was the most effective manner: win the war as quickly as possible and save as many Jews as was consistent with the first priority and the political realities that limited his power.

  Reasonable people can debate specific decisions, indecisions, actions and inactions.… But no one should question Roosevelt’s motives or good will toward the Jewish victims of the world’s worst human atrocity.60

  A second pressing matter Roosevelt faced was the status of General Charles de Gaulle and his Free French movement. With D-Day the issue became acute. Were those portions of France that were liberated to be governed by Eisenhower and the SHAEF general staff as occupied territory, or would the provisional regime of de Gaulle—the French Committee of National Liberation (FCNL)—hold sway? Eisenhower, who had lived in Paris for two years (1928–1929) and knew France well, unequivocally favored de Gaulle.61 He wanted the military cooperation of the French resistance, which was inextricably linked to the FCNL, and above all wanted a civil authority to govern France, freeing his headquarters of the administrative burden. So too did Churchill. “It is very difficult to cut the French out of the liberation of France,” he told Roosevelt on May 26, 1944.62 But FDR resisted. Abetted by State Department mandarins enthralled by Vichy’s rollback of the social excesses of the Third Republic and fortified daily by the anti–de Gaulle rants of Admiral Leahy, his former ambassador to Pétain, the president petulantly refused to recognize the FCNL as the legitimate or even provisional government of France.63

  The best that can be said for Roosevelt’s intransigence is that the president wished to delay recognizing any French government until the people of France could make a free choice after the war. “We have no right to color their views or to give any group the sole right to impose one side of a case on them,” he told Eisenhower on May 13, 1944.64 But the fact is that by 1944 de Gaulle had established his government in exile as the legitimate successor to the Third Republic. He had swept the competitors from the field, leaving only Vichy as an alternative—which the Allies under no circumstances could accept. In seeking an alternative to de Gaulle, Roosevelt was flogging a dead horse. The president’s attitude, as the general presciently observed, “seemed on the same order as Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland.”65

  At Roosevelt’s insistence, de Gaulle (who was in Algeria at the time) was not informed of the invasion until two days before D-Day. At Eisenhower’s urging, he was brought to England, taken to Ike’s headquarters, and given a complete briefing. Afterward Eisenhower sheepishly gave him the copy of a speech SHAEF wished him to deliver to the French people after the troops had landed.66 De Gaulle refused. Aside from the limp military prose (which would have been reason enough to decline), de Gaulle rejected categorically the idea that as head of the provisional government of the French Republic his words should be dictated by the Allies. Churchill intervened and eventually brokered an arrangement for de Gaulle to write his own message.67 “It’s a girls’ school,” lamented Sir Alexander Cadogan, permanent undersecretary in the British Foreign Office. “Roosevelt, P.M. and—it must be admitted deG.—all behave like girls approaching the age of puberty.”68*

  The problem of who would govern liberated France resolved itself. On June 14, with Eisenhower’s acquiescence, de Gaulle landed at Bayeux with members of the provisional government. His reception exceeded all expectations. Local officials appointed by Vichy pledged their allegiance, and the provisional government assumed control. Ike gave his military blessing to the arrangement, calling it essential to secure his rear areas. Civil affairs officers deferred to de Gaulle’s appointees. Whether the United States recognized him or not, de Gaulle was now de facto the chief executive of liberated France.69

  Roosevelt adjusted to military reality.70 He invited de Gaulle to Washington but insisted it was not a state visit, and the customary honors were not rendered. De Gaulle stayed in the capital from July 6 to July 9 and then touched down briefly in New York and Canada, where he addressed the Houses of Parliament. Wherever he went, the reception was enthusiastic. FDR might be unwilling to recognize de Gaulle, but it had little effect on the warmth with which he was welcomed.

  Aside from the usual round of luncheons and dinners, Roosevelt and de Gaulle met twice privately for extended discussions. De Gaulle also met with Hull (“who acquitted himself of his crushing task with great conscientiousness and distinction of spirit”); Morgenthau (“a great friend of our cause, in charge of a treasury which, for being inexhaustible, was no less subject to his scrupulous ordering”); Marshall (“a bold organizer but a reserved interlocutor, the animating spirit of a war effort and military strategy of global dimensions”); and Leahy (“astonished by the events that had defied his counsels of conformity, surprised to see me there, but persisting in his prejudice”).71

  Roosevelt’s discussions with de Gaulle dealt primarily with global matters. The president laid out his plans for a four-power (Britain, China, Russia, and the United States) directorate to settle the world’s postwar problems. “His will to power cloaked itself in idealism,” de Gaulle wrote afterward. “The President, moreover, did not explain matters as a professor setting down principles, nor as a politician who flatters passions and interests. It was by light touches that he sketched his notions, so skillfully that it was difficult to contradict this artist, this seducer, in any categorical way.”

  De Gaulle countered by stressing the primacy of Western Europe. “It is the West that must be restored. If it regains its balance, the rest of the world will take it for an example. If it declines, barbarianism will ultimately sweep everything away.” The exchanges were civil, but there was no meeting of minds and little warmth. De Gaulle resented Roosevelt’s reluctance to recognize his government, and Roosevelt did not hide his skepticism about the future of France. “The American President’s remarks ultimately proved to me,” wrote de Gaulle, “that in foreign affairs, logic and sentiment do not weigh heavily in comparison with the realities of power. To regain her place, France must count only on herself.”72

  The encounter had one practical consequence: on July 11, while de Gaulle was addressing Parliament in Ottawa, Roosevelt announced he was granting de facto recognition to the FCNL, which, he said, “is qualified to exercise the administration of France.”73 Formal recognition, however, was months away. In mid-August, the Allies landed in southern France, assisted by seven divisions of the French First Army, and still de Gaulle was not recognized. On August 25 de Gaulle entered Paris to a tumultuous welcome and was not recognized. On September 17, Hull, now firmly in de Gaulle’s camp, recommended recogn
ition, but again FDR refused. “The Provisional Government has no direct authority from the people,” he told Hull. “It is best to let things go along as they are for a moment.”74 By mid-October Eisenhower, the Joint Chiefs, the State Department, and Churchill were all urging recognition.75 Roosevelt realized he was completely isolated on the question and on October 23 gave way. Britain, the Soviet Union, and the United States officially recognized the FCNL as the provisional government of France. De Gaulle said drolly, “The French Government is satisfied to be called by its name.”76 Diplomatic recognition is a presidential prerogative. FDR’s pique against de Gaulle poisoned the well of Franco-American relations, the legacy of which continues to this day.

  De Gaulle’s visit to Washington coincided with the run-up to the Democratic National Convention. In June the Republicans, meeting in Chicago, acclaimed Thomas E. Dewey (“Boy Orator of the Platitude”) as the party’s nominee on the first ballot.* Photogenic governor John Bricker of Ohio (“an honest Harding” in the words of William Allen White) was chosen as his running mate.77 Unlike 1940 (when Willkie ran) it was scarcely a compelling ticket. But after twelve years of Democratic rule perhaps it did not matter. Even though there was a war on, the midterm elections in 1942 had indicated the country was ready for a change—and FDR’s failing health was difficult to conceal.

  In 1940 Roosevelt did not announce his decision to run for a third term until the convention voting was about to begin. This time he put his cards on the table early. In a message to party chairman Robert E. Hannegan of Missouri on July 11, well over a week before the delegates would assemble, the president said that although he did not wish to run, his duty compelled him to do so. “Reluctantly, but as a good soldier, I will accept and serve in this office, if I am ordered to do so by the Commander in Chief of us all—the sovereign people of the United States.”78

  Roosevelt’s renomination was never in doubt. Three southern delegations—Louisiana, Mississippi, and Virginia—defected to Senator Harry F. Byrd, but the president won easily on the first ballot, 1,086–89.79 The fight was over the vice presidency. Wallace, who still mystified Democratic politicians, was a drag on the ticket. Ickes claimed he would cost 3 million votes. And FDR’s health could not be ignored. “If something happened to you, I certainly wouldn’t want Wallace to be president,” Morgenthau told Roosevelt two weeks before the convention.80

  Roosevelt recognized the problem Wallace posed. In June he invited Bronx boss Edward J. Flynn and his wife to spend a weekend at the White House. FDR genuinely enjoyed Flynn’s company, who as national chairman in 1940 had organized the president’s third-term campaign. With Farley out of the picture, no one had a better grasp of electoral mechanics than Flynn, and Roosevelt valued his judgment.

  Flynn and his wife were astonished at how FDR’s health had deteriorated. “We were both very unhappy about his condition and sat up for two hours discussing it.” When the question of a fourth term came up, Flynn urged the president not to consider it. He also spoke with Mrs. Roosevelt and begged her to use whatever influence she had to keep him from running again. “I felt that he would never survive the term.”81

  Both Roosevelt and Eleanor dismissed Flynn’s concern. FDR believed it was his duty to run, and ER thought her husband’s victory was essential for the good of the country. “If elected, he’ll do his job well,” she wrote her son James. “And I think he can be kept well to do it.”82 Roosevelt asked Flynn to take the party’s pulse. The Solid South was taken for granted, but it was imperative to carry New York, Pennsylvania, Illinois, New Jersey, and California. Would Wallace help or hurt the ticket?

  Flynn, who personally admired Wallace, took soundings across the country. He told Roosevelt that notwithstanding the vice president’s strong support from organized labor, he would drive independents and middle-of-the-road voters to Dewey. There was no hope of carrying the key electoral states if Wallace remained on the ticket.83 FDR accepted Flynn’s analysis. The two men thereupon reviewed alternatives. FDR thought James Byrnes was the strongest candidate, but Flynn said he would not do. Born and raised a Catholic, Byrnes had left the Church when he married; labor opposed him because of his decisions as director of war mobilization; and he was an outspoken segregationist. Catholics, labor, and African-American voters in the North were three constituencies the Democratic party could not afford to offend. Sam Rayburn was ruled out because he was from Texas, and if FDR could not have Byrnes, he did not want another southerner. That also eliminated Alben Barkley. “We went over every man in the Senate,” said Flynn,

  and Truman was the only one who fitted. His record as head of the Senate Committee to investigate the National Defense Program was excellent; his labor votes in the Senate were good; on the other hand he seemed to represent to some degree the conservatives in the party, he came from a border state, and he had never made any “racial” remarks. He just dropped into the slot.

  In Flynn’s words, “It was agreed that Truman was the man who would hurt [the president] least.”84

  Roosevelt left the mechanics to Flynn. Remembering the repercussions when he had forced Wallace on the convention in 1940, the president did not want to repeat the episode. For that reason he consistently denied he had made any commitment. That encouraged both Wallace and Byrnes to believe they would get the nod. “While I cannot put it just that way in public,” Roosevelt told the vice president after a private luncheon meeting on July 13, “I hope it will be the same old team.”85 To Byrnes he said, “You are the best qualified man in the whole outfit and you must not get out of the race. If you stay in, you are sure to win.”86 Flynn did not believe FDR was being duplicitous. “I did not think President Roosevelt enjoyed the physical strength and mental vigor he had in the past. He had aged considerably. I believe that in order to rid himself of distress or strife and rather than argue, he permitted all aspirants for the nomination to believe it would be an open convention.”87

  Wallace and Byrnes both went to Chicago confident they had the president’s support. Byrnes was told of Roosevelt’s decision the night before the voting and withdrew “in deference to the wishes of the President.”88 Wallace remained in the race. The final session of the convention on Friday, July 21, lasted nine hours. National committee chairman Hannegan controlled tickets to the gallery, and Mayor Kelly’s Chicago police ensured that Wallace supporters did not crash the gate. Nevertheless, Wallace’s delegate strength was formidable. Flynn aimed to prevent a first-ballot victory for the vice president, then stampede the delegates to Truman. Sixteen names, including fourteen favorite sons, were placed in nomination. When the roll call concluded, Wallace led with 429 votes—far short of the 589 required; Truman had 319; and the remaining 428 votes were scattered. A second ballot commenced immediately. By prearrangement Alabama’s favorite son, Senator John Bankhead, withdrew in favor of Truman, and the rout began. State after state switched from favorite son to Truman. Massachusetts put Truman over the top when Senator David I. Walsh withdrew in favor of his Missouri colleague. The final count was Truman 1,031, Wallace 105. Truman’s acceptance speech, one of the shortest in American political history, lasted less than a minute. As David McCullough and others have written, Truman did virtually nothing to secure the nomination. Party leaders from Flynn down recognized that they were choosing a president, not a vice president. They were determined to dump Wallace, and Truman fit the bill.89

  Roosevelt did not attend the 1944 convention. When his nomination was announced, he was in San Diego making ready to embark on the cruiser USS Baltimore for Pearl Harbor, where he would confer on Pacific strategy with Nimitz and MacArthur. “His mind was on the war,” said his son James, who was stationed nearby at Camp Pendleton. “The fourth-term race was simply a job that had to be accomplished, and his attitude toward the coming political campaign was one of ‘let’s get on with it.’ ”90

  While the balloting was under way at Chicago, Roosevelt was scheduled to review an amphibious-landing exercise staged by the 5th Marine Divisio
n, a dress rehearsal for its next Pacific operation. Just as he was about to leave for the exercise he suffered a sudden seizure. The president turned deathly white, with a look of agony in his face. “Jimmy, I don’t know if I can make it—I have horrible pains.” Roosevelt struggled to speak. James wanted to call a doctor, but FDR resisted. “Both of us thought he was suffering from some sort of acute digestive upset—Father himself was positive it had nothing to do with his heart.” James helped him lie flat on the floor of his railroad car and watched in terrified silence for ten minutes or so as his father recovered. “Never in all my life had I felt so alone with him—and so helpless.” Gradually color returned to the president’s face and he opened his eyes. “Help me up now, Jimmy. I feel better.” Minutes later Roosevelt was seated in an open car, smiling jauntily and waving to spectators as he headed out to watch the marines hit the beach.91

  FDR sailed for Pearl Harbor July 21, 1944, accompanied by Leahy, Sam Rosenman, and his dog, Fala. The crossing was uneventful, save for Rosenman having to intervene to protect Fala’s pelt from young seamen who wished to clip a souvenir lock of the famous dog’s hair. “The poor dog was in danger of being completely shorn.”92 At 3 P.M., Wednesday, July 26, the Baltimore docked in Honolulu to the cheers of an immense crowd of Hawaiians alerted to Roosevelt’s arrival. Nimitz and some forty flag officers sprinted up the gangway to greet the president on the quarterdeck. One commander was conspicuously absent. “Where’s Douglas?” FDR asked Nimitz. An embarrassed silence followed. As the presidential party prepared to debark, the scream of police sirens shattered the calm. Onto the dock roared a motorcycle phalanx of Honolulu’s finest, followed by what Rosenman remembered as “the longest open car I have ever seen.”93 In front was a military driver in starched khaki; in back—MacArthur.