Pearl Harbor

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Pearl Harbor Page 9

by Steven M. Gillon


  Tully went into the adjacent room, quickly typed the short speech, and handed it back to the president. Roosevelt picked up his pencil and started editing the speech. In the first sentence, he changed “a date which will live in world history” to “a date which will live in infamy.” He crossed out “simultaneously” and substituted “suddenly.” At the end of the first sentence, he wrote the words “without warning,” but crossed them out.

  Thus was born one of the most famous lines in presidential oratory: “Yesterday, December 7, 1941—a date which will live in infamy—the United States of America was suddenly and deliberately attacked by the naval and air forces of the Empire of Japan.”3

  Later that evening, while having dinner with Hopkins and Grace Tully, Roosevelt decided to make additional changes. Apparently, he realized that the address needed some inspiration and some punch. FDR picked up his pencil and scribbled near the end of the speech, “No matter how long it may take us to overcome this premeditated invasion, the American people will in their righteous might win through to absolute victory.” Roosevelt showed the draft to Hopkins and asked for his suggestions. Picking up on FDR’s addition, Hopkins added an applause line of his own. At the bottom of the page, under the heading “Deity,” he wrote, “With confidence in our armed forces—with the unbounding determination of our people—we will gain the inevitable triumph—so help us God.” Roosevelt liked the addition and included it in the speech.4

  While working on his speech, FDR received two updates on the situation in the Pacific. Shortly before 5:30 p.m., he took a call from Hawaii governor Joseph B. Poindexter. The governor told FDR that the Japanese attacks had killed roughly fifty civilians on Oahu and that the island desperately needed food and planes. He then asked FDR’s approval to declare martial law, claiming that the main danger came from “local Japs” who might be aiding a future invasion of the island.5

  During the conversation, Poindexter shrieked as another round of Japanese planes buzzed overhead. Roosevelt turned to Hopkins, “My God, there’s another wave of Jap planes over Hawaii right this minute.” If the governor heard planes, they would have been American. There was no third wave of bombers. But the information seemed credible at the time, and Early shared the story with reporters in his 5:55 p.m. press briefing. It became part of many standard accounts of the day.6

  At roughly the same time, the administration concluded that the Japanese had not started bombing the Philippines and that the initial reports had been false. The problem was that both the War and the Navy departments had sent messages to Manila but had not received any response, or even an acknowledgment that the messages had been received. Initially, the assumption was that a Japanese attack had cut off communications with Washington. As Steve Early now told reporters, however, they were inclined to believe the initial reports were wrong. The president, he said, “is disposed to believe and rather to hope that the first report may be erroneous.”7

  In the midst of the crisis, Roosevelt needed to take personal time to deal with his stubborn sinus infection. At 5:30 p.m., Roosevelt was wheeled down to the office of White House physician Ross T. McIntire, with whom he spent a total of seventy minutes that evening. A graduate of Willamette University in Oregon, McIntire had joined the Navy Medical Corps during World War I. In 1925, he was assigned to the U.S. Naval Dispensary in Washington, where he met Admiral Cary Grayson, who had served as Woodrow Wilson’s private physician. Grayson was also a close adviser to FDR.8

  In 1937, when Roosevelt was looking for a White House physician, he turned to Grayson for advice. Grayson recommended McIntire largely because of his specialty. “The president is as strong as a horse,” Grayson told McIntire, “with the exception of a chronic sinus condition that makes him susceptible to colds.” A heavy smoker, Roosevelt had been plagued with sinus problems for most of his adult life. Eleanor blamed the flare-ups on anxiety and the damp, cold weather in Washington during the winter. The genial McIntire seemed like a reasonable choice since he was trained in both otolaryngology (ear, nose, and throat, or ENT) and ophthalmology (the study of the eye).9

  Over the next few years, McIntire joined FDR’s inner circle. He saw the president on a daily basis. In addition to being a skilled ear, nose, and throat doctor, McIntire was attentive and unassuming—qualities that Roosevelt appreciated in the people around him. “We understand one another beautifully,” McIntire told journalist Leon Pearson in April 1941. Roosevelt enjoyed his doctor’s company so much that he often invited him along on fishing trips and other vacations.10

  The doctor never questioned that his job was to keep FDR healthy and to shoot down any suggestions to the contrary. As late as March 1945, just one month before the president died of a cerebral hemorrhage in Warm Springs, McIntire cooperated with publicist George Creel to squelch rumors that FDR was in poor health. He told Creel that FDR’s gaunt appearance was the result of “a bad case of the influenza that left in its wake a stubborn irritation of the larynx and bronchial tubes.”11

  McIntire claimed that he “examined” Roosevelt twice a day. He was often among a small group of aides who would gather around his bed in the morning around 8:30 a.m. while the president scanned the papers and ate his breakfast. He believed that this “look-see” provided him with all the information that he needed. “A close but seemingly casual watch told me all I wanted to know,” he recalled in his memoirs. “The things that interested me most were the President’s color, the tone of his voice, the tilt of his chin, and the way he tackled his orange juice, cereal and eggs.” McIntire would return at 5:30 for another “look-see,” although he often insisted that Roosevelt “shut up shop” and either go for a swim in the White House pool or rest before dinner.12

  This, however, was not a typical day, and McIntire’s medical intervention involved more than a “look-see.” The physician wrote a memoir of his time in the White House, but he failed to discuss exactly how he treated FDR’s various ailments. Since Roosevelt’s medical records went missing shortly after his death, it is impossible to know for sure what illness Roosevelt suffered from and also what treatments McIntire prescribed.

  According to McIntire, Roosevelt called him shortly after he learned of the attack on Pearl Harbor and asked him to stay with him. He arrived before the 3:00 p.m. meeting with the war cabinet and stayed with FDR for the rest of the afternoon. At 5:30, McIntire accompanied FDR to the White House physician’s office, which was on the lower level of the mansion. They entered the main office, which looked out on the south grounds of the White House, and wheeled past a desk with fresh-cut flowers and into the examination room. The room contained a dentist chair, a rubdown table, and closets filled with various medications. All of the medications came from the Navy Department’s dispensary.13

  Roosevelt spent from 5:30 until 6:40 p.m. in the office. Given McIntire’s circumspection and the lack of medical records, we can only speculate about what took place during his appointment with McIntire. Both FDR and McIntire knew that the president had a long night ahead of him, including two of the most important meetings of his presidency: one with the cabinet, the other with congressional leaders. He would need to make sure that the tenor of his voice reflected the focused anger and vitality of the American people. It was McIntire’s job to make sure FDR was up to the task.

  Because there were no antibiotics to treat the underlying sinus infection, McIntire was forced to rely on daily treatments to relieve the symptoms. The therapeutic goal was to diminish the swelling of nasal mucosa and thereby increase the patient’s ability to breathe. The key was to reduce the swelling without producing dryness or crusting. McIntire had a few options available to him. He could have used cotton swabs to manually clear Roosevelt’s sinuses. Attorney General Francis Biddle observed McIntire performing the procedure when he went to see the president a few days after Pearl Harbor. “He was swabbing out F.D.R.’s nose,” Biddle noted.14

  It is also likely that McIntire “flushed” or irrigated the sinuses. This could be ac
complished by inserting a curved hollow needle up the nose and into his sinuses. The needle would be connected to a machine that would pump saline solution into the sinus cavity. Oftentimes, the same machine would have the capability of then sucking out the fluid along with the pus and mucus.

  But in the 1930s and 1940s, it was also common for physicians to use cocaine as part of these treatments. “They most likely used cocaine,” observed Dr. Jordan S. Josephson, the director of the New York Nasal and Sinus Center. “Cocaine was the drug of choice for any ENT treating a nasal problem.” The physician would apply the diluted cocaine solution directly to the sinuses using cotton swabs. The cocaine would shrink the tissue, offering immediate relief, while also numbing the area, preparing it for the insertion of the needle for flushing. “Cocaine is a very good constrictor,” reflected Dr. Murray Grossan, a prominent ENT who recalled that cocaine was still being used when he started his residency in the 1950s. “It was not that unusual for an ethical doctor to use a one or two percent cocaine solution. In those days that was quite common.”15

  As late as 1959, standard textbooks on otolaryngology recommended that physicians apply “1 per cent ephedrine sulfate, or 1 per cent ephedrine sulfate and a 1 per cent cocaine hydrochloride” solution for “temporary relief ” of nasal swelling. As recently as 1975, after reviewing the medical literature on the subject, the Western Journal of Medicine noted that “cocaine remains a vital instrument in the otolaryngologist’s armamentarium.” Many doctors still use cocaine today for sinus surgery.16

  Beginning in the nineteenth century, cocaine became widely available in the United States and was used for a variety of medical ailments. Physicians used the drug as a local anesthesia, and manufacturers sold a host of over-the-counter panaceas that included it. Sigmund Freud called it a “magical” drug. Cocaine was also the active ingredient in Coca-Cola, originally sold as a cure for headaches. (In the 1890s, the new Coca-Cola Company sold the drink as both a “sovereign remedy” and a pleasurable drink.)17 Cocaine fell out of favor in the twentieth century as social reformers campaigned against it, and by the time Roosevelt was elected president, cocaine had been banned in the United States. It survived only as a surgical anesthetic and as a treatment for ear, nose, and throat problems.

  Even if McIntire did use a cocaine solution as part of his regimen, it remains unclear whether it would have had any impact on FDR’s behavior. The effect would depend on the strength of the solution, and there does not appear to have been a common standard for treatment in 1941. Dr. Josephson believes the cocaine would have been powerful enough to produce a brief sense of euphoria and a temporary burst of energy. Dr. Grossan stated that most patients would probably have no reaction, but a few could “get a jack” from the treatment. Dr. Robert Lofgren, who graduated medical school in the 1950s and practiced for many years at Massachusetts’s Eye and Ear Hospital, believes that the solution would likely have been too diluted to have any measurable impact.18

  Even if McIntire had used a strong dose of the drug, the cocaine effect would have been short-lived, providing FDR with only a temporary respite from the grim news of the day. The draining of the sinuses, however, would have provided him with noticeable and sustained relief and helped prepare him for the long evening ahead.19

  It is likely, though not certain, that FDR was getting treated on a regular basis, including the day of the Pearl Harbor attacks, with a diluted form of cocaine. But if he was, he almost certainly did not know it. The medical literature at the time instructed physicians not to tell their patients that they were using the drug. “The habit-forming properties . . . of this drug are well-known and must be ever guarded against,” one medical textbook at the time explained. “Patients are never informed as to the nature or name of the drug used because in itself this may act suggestively.” Eleanor worried about the daily nasal treatments her husband received. “I always worried about this constant treatment for I felt while it might help temporarily, in the long run it must cause irritation,” she reflected. FDR, however, never seemed to question the treatments or to inquire about his medical condition.20

  8

  “Get to the White House fastasyoucan”

  WHILE THE PRESIDENT remained secluded in the White House, word of the attack was spreading across the nation. The major radio stations announced the news within minutes of receiving Steve Early’s phone call, and the major newspapers rushed “extra” editions to press. Initially, information about the attack spread slowly, and most Americans did not panic. By evening, however, a wave of fear swept the nation, especially on the West Coast and in Hawaii.

  At 2:25 p.m., less than thirty minutes after Secretary Knox first advised FDR of the attack, United Press International flashed a bulletin: “Washington—White House announces Japanese have attacked Pearl Harbor.” About sixty seconds later Mutual radio station WOR interrupted the broadcast of the Dodgers-Giants football game with the same flash. NBC read the announcement at 2:28 p.m.

  At 2:31 CBS’s John Daly broke into the regular broadcast with the first live coverage of the events. “The Japanese have attacked Pearl Harbor, Hawaii, by air, President Roosevelt has just announced. The attack was also made on naval and military activities on the principal island of Oahu.” CBS switched to its Washington bureau chief, Albert Warner, who speculated that the attack meant that Roosevelt would be asking Congress for a declaration of war and that Congress would support it. At 2:39, Warner, repeating the false report filed by Steve Early, announced that “a second air attack has been reported on Army and Navy bases in Manila.”1

  The network then reached its London correspondent, Robert Trout, hoping that he could provide the British perspective on the flash, but the news had not yet reached government officials. CBS managed to reach its Manila stringer, but it quickly lost the connection. CBS, however, was able to set up a telephone connection with KGMB, its Honolulu affiliate, which confirmed that the raid was still in progress.2

  As soon as the story broke, reporters rushed to the White House for more information. The White House press office was small and informal, as there were only about a dozen full-time reporters assigned to the White House in 1941. The three wire services—the United Press, Associated Press, and International News Service—were the main sources of information. Reporters from the major New York, Chicago, Philadelphia, and Washington papers joined them.

  Roosevelt had developed a personal relationship with many of the White House reporters. He called them by their first names, joked with them, and invited them for private teas. A few correspondents joined the family for holiday meals. Carrying over a tradition that he started as governor of New York, FDR held regular Sunday-evening dinners where the journalists felt like “neighbors invited in for potluck.” After dinner, they retreated to the second floor to watch a movie and the newsreels for the day.3

  In the past, FDR had told the correspondents that he would not make news on Sunday, so they could plan on having the day off. Early had told the press corps the same thing the day before. And so on December 7, the press office was closed, and there were no reporters present when the flash came about Pearl Harbor.

  Merriman Smith, the veteran UPI reporter assigned to the White House on December 7, was planning on spending a quiet day at home. He was in the bathroom when his wife knocked on the door at 2:25 p.m. “You know what the radio just said.” “No,” he responded. “What?” “It said the Japanese bombed Hawaii.” Smith recalled that he “nearly knocked” his wife to the ground as he rushed from the bathroom to get to the telephone. He got to the receiver just as his office was calling him. His editor bellowed into the phone: “Japs just bombed Pearl Harbor. Get to the White House fastasyoucan.” He rushed outside, where he flagged down a motorcycle policeman who escorted him to the White House.4

  Smith arrived in time for the first of many press briefings that day. There were only six reporters present at it. The others were still scrambling to get to the White House. After they gathered in the pressroom, a po
liceman stuck his head in and announced, “Mr. Early will see you.” The reporters pushed into Early’s private office and found him sitting behind his desk. His secretary, Ruth Jane Rumelt, sat next to him with a notepad. “So far as is known now, the attacks on Hawaii and Manila were made wholly without warning—when both nations were at peace and were delivered within an hour or so of the time that the Japanese Ambassador and the special envoy, Mr. Kurusu, had gone to the State Department and handed to the Secretary of State Japan’s reply to the Secretary’s memorandum of Nov. 26.” He went on to say that the president “directed the Army and Navy to execute all previously prepared orders looking to the defense of the United States.” He closed by announcing that the president was meeting with military advisers and making efforts to inform congressional leaders.5

  Smith recalled that for the rest of the day “there occurred the maddest scramble, the most rapid succession of world-shaking stories in the memory of the oldest old-timer in the newspaper business around Washington.” To put the day in some perspective, he noted that in four hours, he managed four flashes and eight bulletin stories. “Men spend an entire lifetime in press association work without ever handling one flash story. I had four in four hours.”6

 

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