Eleanor Roosevelt

by Blanche Wiesen Cook

  That day Bess Furman told ER that Hick had agreed to come down on 20 March for the women’s press party, which surprised and delighted her—”I miss you so much & I love you so much”—and they would have many good times together. It was late when ER wrote Hick: “I am going soon to find out if F is staying up all night or not! I think when things settle I’ll have some privacy & leisure!… Perhaps we’ll be almost human by the time you come! The one thing which reconciles me to do this job is the fact that I think I can give a great many people pleasure & I begin to think there may be ways in which I can be useful.”

  ER was almost completely settled by the end of the first week: “My pictures are nearly all up & I have you in my sitting room where I can look at you most of my waking hours! I can’t kiss you so I kiss your picture good-night and good-morning. Dont laugh!”

  ER’s rooms were covered with photographs—on the walls, on her desk, on the mantelpiece above the fireplace. In her bedroom, on either end of her bureau were two large photographs, with a triptych in between. Earl Miller was on the right, Louis Howe on the left, and three smaller photos of a younger FDR and her brother Hall in the triptych frame. Hick shared ER’s study wall above the fireplace with Nancy Cook, Esther Lape, Tommy, and several watercolors. A larger and contemporary photo of FDR was placed over her shoulder above her reading chair. Snapshots of children and grandchildren abounded.

  Throughout her adult life, ER juggled countless relationships, but very few were emotionally absorbing. She craved company and rarely had a meal or even a walk by herself. She was restless and easily diverted. She tended to divide her day into fifteen-minute meetings. When the business was done, she stood to announce the meeting’s end. For luncheons, teas, and dinners, she would combine the most unlikely people and trust to everybody’s good manners.

  Nobody else in ER’s life filled the particular place in her heart now reserved for Hick:

  One more day marked off…. My dear, may I forget there are other reporters present or must I behave? I shall want to hug you to death. I can hardly wait!…

  The nicest time of the day is when I write to you. You have a stormier time than I do but I miss you as much I think. I couldn’t bear to think of you crying yourself to sleep. Oh! How I wanted to put my arms about you in reality instead of in spirit…. Please keep most of your heart in Washington as long as I’m here for most of mine is with you!

  But Hick worried about all the other people around ER, dreaded the time she spent with them, and feared the intensity of her other friendships. In response, ER wrote:

  Remember one thing always no one is just what you are to me. I’d rather be with you this minute than any one else and yet I love many other people and some of them can do things for me probably better than you could, but I’ve never enjoyed being with anyone the way I enjoy being with you.

  ER’s nightly letters to Hick were filled with the often hilarious details of hectic days.

  Did I tell you that the first day in his office, at 5 pm FDR found himself with nothing to do. Horrors! Nothing like that had happened to him in years! So he reached under his desk & rang all five bells, & people ran in from every side to find him calmly demanding something to do! He had the start of a cold yesterday. I fed him a pill. At the conference in the evening he took a senatorial pill, a congressional pill, a treasury one, an attorney general one, & today he is cured! He is having such a good time that his mood is amusing most of the time!

  Politically, ER felt effervescent. She was enthusiastic and filled with visions of usefulness. But her heart was divided. The day after she wrote Hick that she could not “bear to think of you crying yourself to sleep,” they made plans to see each other. ER would not wait for Hick to attend the women’s press party but would journey immediately to New York. There were political things to be done to bolster FDR’s legislative activities, and they could spend two days together:

  We could lunch at the [East 65th Street] house Tuesday if Anna is out or if you don’t mind having her with us but I thought you’d rather be alone in a crowd than have anyone else to talk to. It shall be just as you say dear. Stick to your diet… & you’ll forget you are 40 and please go to the doctor next week.

  On Monday, 13 March, ER took a late train to New York, “scorning a private compartment.” She sat in “an ordinary Pullman seat” and dismissed Secret Service protection. Hick wrote the AP releases of the First Lady’s visit.

  The next day at the Women’s Trade Union League meeting, where ER went to rally New York’s women’s network, she intended to be unobtrusive. But her very effort made headlines: “Mrs. Roosevelt Bars Police Guard.” Upon her arrival the First Lady walked up to the uniformed policemen posted at the entrance and asked:

  “What are you all doing here?”

  “We’re here to guard Mrs. Roosevelt.”

  “I don’t want to be guarded; please go away….”

  “We can’t do that, the captain placed us here.”

  ER entered the building and telephoned Louis Howe, who telephoned police headquarters, which sent the captain. ER met him at the front hall, pointed to the crowd that had gathered, drawn by all the uniforms, and said: ”Please take them all away. It’s just an attraction. No one is going to hurt me.” After the police were removed, ER “partook” of the WTUL luncheon, with young working women and members of ER’s “committee on rest rooms [temporary shelters] for unemployed girls.”

  After the WTUL meeting, ER walked up Lexington Avenue to visit the New York League of Girls’ Clubs canteen established “for girls looking for jobs” and the Unemployed Girls’ Hostel maintained by the Salvation Army. These were ER’s primary constituents, mostly single unemployed women whose needs New Deal legislation completely bypassed. Their very existence was ignored during the first hundred days.

  ER returned to Washington by air oh the 16th. The New York Times announced: “She Set Precedent as the First White House Lady to Travel in Plane.” For ER the flight was noteworthy above all because she was not distressed by the ordeal of motion sickness, which had often plagued her, especially at sea. For some reason ER never became airsick, although her traveling companions Tommy and Emma Bugbee did: “Well, we had a very bumpy trip but I was fine….”

  The 17th of March was the Roosevelts’ twenty-eighth anniversary. Seventeen guests were invited for dinner, which was festive in shades of green to honor St. Patrick’s Day. Thoughtfully, Mrs. Nesbitt, head housekeeper, provided husband and wife with their favorite desserts: angel-food cake for ER, fruitcake for FDR.

  ER was impressed by the after-dinner film Gabriel Over the White House. In the classic comedy starring Walter Huston, an insecure president is surrounded by tough-minded politicians who discourage his democratic faith in the people. Knocked out by a car accident and inspired by the Angel Gabriel, he awakens determined to be all he can be, do all he can do for the people of Depression America. The film’s army of unemployed marchers who descended upon Washington from all over America caused ER to reflect upon her astonished dismay at Herbert Hoover’s cruel response to the 1932 Bonus Marchers—and to argue with dinner guests who defended him.

  She wrote Hick: Like Hoover, they would call “soldiers out if a million unemployed marched on Washington & I’d do what the President does in the picture!”

  From May to June 1932, the Bonus Expeditionary Force, comprised of twenty thousand World War I veterans and their families, encamped along the marshy Anacostia flats across the bridge from the nation’s capital in a sprawling “Hooverville.” There to lobby Congress for the immediate release of their promised bonus, the veterans were optimistic as the Wright-Patman bill was debated. On 15 June the House passed the bill, but two days later it was defeated in the Senate, 62–18. As Congress prepared to adjourn and the sweltering heat of Washington’s summer descended, they determined to stay until President Hoover addressed their plight. But Hoover refused even to meet with their representatives. He offered them train fare out of town, but they lingered and demo
nstrated. Convinced the Bonus Matchers were communist agitators, Red-controlled harbingers of an American insurrection, he decided to act. During the evening rush hour on 28 July 1932, one of the most photographed and widely witnessed moments of state terrorism in U.S. history occurred. “The Battle of Washington” was followed by a midnight attack on their campsite.

  The burn-and-destroy mission was led by four units of cavalry wearing gas masks and steel helmets, with sabers drawn, backed by five tanks, followed by the infantry with fixed bayonets, all under the personal supervision of General Douglas MacArthur, with George Patton and Dwight David Eisenhower in minor roles. Over one thousand veterans and their families were tear-gassed and bayoneted. Although there was no resistance, more than 1,500 tear gas grenades and candles went off as the destitute army of unemployed and homeless Americans ran north into the night. Their campsites were burned, their meager possessions destroyed. As Washington watched the flames over Anacostia, Hoover’s humanitarian reputation went up in smoke.

  ER was stunned and wrote: “I shall never forget my feeling of horror when I learned that the Army had actually been ordered to evict the veterans…. Many people were injured, some of them seriously. This one incident shows what fear can make people do, for Mr. Hoover was a Quaker who abhorred violence, and General MacArthur, his Chief of Staff, must have known how many veterans would resent the order and never forget it….”

  When ER contemplated Gabriel Over the White House, which coincided with the news that Bonus Marchers prepared to return to Washington, she vowed to do whatever needed to be done “to prevent a similar tragedy.”

  In May, her opportunity arrived. Bonus Marchers returned not only to demand their bonus but also to protest FDR’s Economy Act, which reduced their meager benefits by almost half. Although FDR promised nothing, he treated the veterans cordially. Administration officials met with them; they were given a clean campsite, with sanitation facilities at Fort Hood, Virginia, and three meals a day.

  Louis Howe handled negotiations and met with them regularly in a government auditorium. But not until ER visited their campsite did they believe there was a dime’s worth of difference between Hoover and Roosevelt.

  Howe asked ER to drive him to the campsite. When they arrived, he announced he would sleep in the car while she toured the camp: “I got out and walked over to where I saw a line-up of men waiting for food. They looked at me curiously and one of them asked my name and what I wanted. When I said I just wanted to see how they were getting on, they asked me to join them.”

  ER spent over an hour with the veterans. They reminisced about the war and sang old Army songs: “There’s a Long, Long Trail a-Winding,” “Pack Up Your Troubles in Your Old Kit Bag.” ER was introduced to a “Negro veteran whose breast bore many decorations” and who sang “Mother Machree.” ER waded through ankle-deep mud to visit the marchers’ living quarters and the new hospital. In the large convention -tent, she addressed the group and apologized for the fact that she could tell them nothing about their bonus. But she had seen the war, toured the battlefields, and understood their anger. She had driven a truck through the railroad yards in the cold of night, and talked with the boys as they left. She had served coffee and prepared sandwiches for those young men, eager to go into the unknown. And she had seen them when they returned, hobbling on crutches or carried off the trains, and had visited them in hospitals.

  Interrupted repeatedly by cheers, she concluded: “I never want to see another war. I would like to see fair consideration for everyone, and I shall always be grateful to those who served their country. I hope we will never have to ask such service again….”

  The entire group accompanied her to her car, and waved her off with songs and hope.

  The veterans did not get their bonus. FDR urged them to join the Civilian Conservation Corps, which many did. Many also returned home galvanized politically. ER had helped to renew their faith. The First Lady would fight for their interests.

  Many of FDR’s advisers were horrified that his wife had shown courtesy to Red insurrectionists. Her visit, they protested, encouraged mob rule and raised expectations of support. Nonsense, she insisted: There was no reason for excitement. She had merely spent a decent moment with one of America’s most deserving groups.

  Although she could not persuade FDR of the wisdom of releasing the bonus, she was pleased with her first major diplomatic venture and hoped that it “had a good effect.” ER told her press conference that there had been nothing to worry about: “It was as comfortable as a camp can be, remarkably clean and orderly, grand-looking boys, a fine spirit. There was no kind of disturbance, nothing but the most courteous behavior.”

  On 18 March, the day after the anniversary party, Hick arrived in Washington for a three-day visit, highlighted by the Women’s National Press Club dinner. ER was the first First Lady to attend the annual frolic, and she broke all traditions when she agreed to take the “last word” of rebuttal at the end of the evening. There is no record of her remarks to the three hundred women in the grand ballroom of the Willard Hotel, since the “rule of no reporters present” prevailed during her talk. Nevertheless, she was triumphant, and Washington’s most observant and critical women remembered her as “tall, vivacious, laughter-lit.” ER’s capacity to laugh at herself, spontaneously and robustly, was one of her most endearing qualities.

  ER enjoyed these parties, and she soon introduced her own annual party for women of the press and other women in public life which alternated with the press club’s. ER’s annual Gridiron Widows party, for women only, given in the White House, was her indignant response to the fact that FDR and the men of the cabinet went off to the sacred and exclusive male journalists’ annual Gridiron Club dinner, still closed to all women.

  It became the highlight of her social season. For years the Gridiron Widows dinner was an occasion for unbridled merriment, political satire, serious costumes. All the women associated with the Roosevelt administration were invited: journalists and their guests, and “women distinguished in arts and letters.” ER worked hard on her own skits for these parties, as she did for FDR’s annual birthday frolic. Thus, at least twice a year, ER conceived and performed in rather wild theatrical routines, usually done with the help of her daughter Anna, Elinor Morgenthau, and Louis Howe.

  Although Hick’s first postinaugural visit to Washington was arranged around the women’s press club party, and she was elegant in her new black gown, she did not even mention it in the fifteen-page article she wrote about her weekend. That omission underscored her pain and confusion as her career as a top political journalist clashed with her efforts to protect her First Friend, and began to unravel.

  In her essay, Hick tried to reconcile her rough-and-tumble life with her new status as the First Lady’s intimate friend. To protect ER and herself, she decided not to publish her story. But it provided significant insight into the tensions and dynamics of their efforts to confront and accommodate their new situation. ER was surprised when Hick hesitated upon entering her room. Hick explained:

  She looked taller than I had remembered, and stately. Her voice sounded the same—only far away. Perhaps it was the gown, which I had never seen before. Or the bigness of the room…. She reached over and laid her hand on my shoulder.

  “Don’t be that way,” she said.

  We sat on a sofa beside the fireplace. The room was blue—blue carpet, blue hangings, blue shadows outside the yellow circles of the lamps….

  At length she said, “You must go in and say hello to Franklin.”

  She studied my face gravely for an instant. Then she laughed and held out her hand.

  “Come on! You are a house guest, you know!”

  Before the formal Saturday dinner Hick paused in discomfort as she confronted her actual situation as the First Lady’s friend.

  As I tiptoed out into the corridor, Mrs. Roosevelt came toward me—tall, cool, unhurried, in a white evening gown. Again that feeling that there was something different
about her. I smiled uneasily.

  “Franklin and the others are going down in the elevator,” she said, taking my arm. “I’m going to take you down the grand stairway!”

  My gown was new, and its hem swept the floor, the longest skirt I had ever worn. It seemed to me that black lace was wound round my ankles in great, heavy folds. Getting to the stairway required almost painful physical effort….

  Ahead of me, a reassuring stretch of crimson carpet. But my sense of relief was quickly invaded by new misgivings as my eyes picked out, away down at the end of the corridor, the black of dinner coats and the white gleam of bare shoulders….

  After dinner, Hick and ER joined FDR for drinks. “With amazing frankness we discussed public questions…. Seated on a sofa, smoking in an ivory cigarette holder the 15-cent brand of cigarettes he prefers, the President appeared to be enjoying himself thoroughly.” ER knitted; calm returned. When ER took her dogs for their run, Hick and FDR agreed to “one more cigarette….”

  Over time the White House became in part Hick’s own residence. It was during the Roosevelt era, much like a grand hotel, and Hick’s shyness evaporated.

  More immediately, on 12 April ER sailed down the Potomac aboard the Sequoia with FDR and Britain’s prime minister, Ramsay MacDonald, as they discussed the London Economic Conference. But she was specifically exiled from the conversation, banished to the siderails while the men conferred beyond her hearing. As ER contemplated her isolated voyage, she wrote Hick: “Blue sky & sun, our first day on the river, and, tho I never think it is a very pretty river, still the remoteness is grand, and sun, even on muddy water, gleams and dances, and the trees are green.” She paused to contemplate the men in deep and somber conversation, and wondered: “Is history being made? What road is the world going to take? And will this day count?” Ell decried her lack of information: “I’d give something to know anything authentic on Germany or Russia.”