The Definitive FDR

by James Macgregor Burns

  In Washington, Roosevelt entered a world of far broader perspectives than he had known at Hyde Park, Harvard, or Albany. He came to know Oliver Wendell Holmes, Louis D. Brandeis, Felix Frankfurter; important foreigners like the British ambassador, Sir Cecil Spring-Rice, the French Ambassador, Jean Jules Jusserand; and, of course, the leaders in the Wilson administration, including Secretary of the Interior Franklin K. Lane and First Assistant Postmaster General Daniel C. Roper. He saw much of the younger diplomatic set. When Joseph E. Davies organized a small Common Counsel Club to promote principles of “progressive Democracy” Roosevelt became one of the members.

  It was by people—all sorts of people—that he continued to be educated in the tough, knotty ways of government. “Young Roosevelt is very promising, but I should think he’d wear himself out in the promiscuous and extended contacts he maintains with people,” Secretary Newton Baker said to Frances Perkins. “But as I have observed him, he seems to clarify his ideas and teach himself as he goes along by that very conversational method.” Roosevelt at times seemed like a sponge soaking up information and ideas indiscriminately. But some reactive organism was at work; he was more than a sponge. One night in June 1913, for example, after dining with Colonel George Harvey, the eminent editor and amateur politico, Roosevelt wrote in his diary: “Col. Harvey is brilliant—too much so to argue—he changes the battle front or else closes debate with a final statement. I want to see more of him, but have a feeling we shall clash.”

  Absorbed in the navy, Roosevelt was only on the fringe of the main action of the Wilson administration. “No one can mistake,” the new President said in his inaugural address, “the purpose for which the Nation now seeks to use the Democratic Party.” He soon was demonstrating that purpose. In the next nine months he steered through Congress the Federal Reserve Act, which reshaped the national banking and currency system, and a tariff act that dropped duties to the lowest point since the Civil War. Attached to the latter was a graduated federal tax on incomes, potentially the most radical measure of all. Other important legislation ground through Congress during following years: acts to prevent unfair competition, to improve the lot of seamen, to develop vocational education, to require the eight-hour day on railroads.

  The atmosphere of Washington was the atmosphere of Wilsonian reform. Roosevelt supported the President’s proposals; indeed, they represented on a national level the kind of thing he had fought for in Albany. Not that he had yet developed, however, a rounded philosophy of government, although he did try to have one. Once, for example, while state senator, he had bravely advanced the thought at a People’s Forum in Troy, New York, that the new idea in politics must be “cooperation,” which began “where competition leaves off.” Co-operation was the “struggle for liberty of the community rather than liberty of the individual … and by liberty, we mean happiness and prosperity. …” On the surface, his argument fell somewhere between T.R.’s New Nationalism and Wilson’s New Freedom; analyzed closely it was pretentious nonsense. The only merit his argument had was in the realm of semantics: co-operation, he assured his audience, was a more acceptable term politically than “community interest” (too socialistic), “brotherhood of man” (too idealistic), or “regulation” (would alarm “old fogies”). He evidently felt he ought to think out a philosophy of government, but his heart was not in it.

  But a philosophy of government, after all, was not necessary to run the navy. As it turned out, Roosevelt’s pragmatic, undoctrinaire approach to governmental matters often brought him to a “progressive” policy in Washington just as it had in Albany. A case in point was the Navy Department’s handling of monopoly. Roosevelt and Daniels had to tussle with steel manufacturers who handed in identical bids on armor plate, with mine owners who had a monopoly of high-grade coal, with high-cost middlemen and block bidders. Daniels saw the problem from the point of view of an agrarian foe of the trusts, Roosevelt from that of a bureaucrat trying to stretch his funds to buy as many ships as possible. Different motives brought the two men to a common posture of opposing trusts.

  With Wilson himself Roosevelt had only sporadic contacts, but the relationship was cordial. The Assistant Secretary was able to view at close hand Wilson’s masterly handling of Congress. And he remembered years later how the President said to him on one occasion: “It is only once in a generation that a people can be lifted above material things. That is why conservative government is in the saddle two-thirds of the time.”

  TAMMANY WINS AGAIN

  “You can rest assured,” Roosevelt wrote to a former constituent soon after arriving in Washington, “that I am not through with politics or public affairs in the State of New York.” His navy job gave him excellent political leverage in more than one direction. The navy itself hired thousands of civilian workers in New York State alone. His Poughkeepsie friend John Mack said later that Roosevelt “took care” of every job seeker Mack wrote him about during the navy years; the Brooklyn Navy Yard was well sprinkled with political appointees of the assistant secretary. In Washington, Roosevelt also could keep in touch with Postmaster General Albert S. Burleson and Secretary of the Treasury McAdoo, and other administration chiefs who controlled hundreds more federal positions in the state.

  Roosevelt’s political administration of naval affairs, moreover, gave him valuable publicity and contacts in key places in the nation. He conducted numerous inspections of navy yards, and he made a point of talking about expanding the facilities; bettering conditions for navy personnel, including enlisted, commissioned, and civilian; improving housing; stabilizing employment; and the like. His inspections were well staged: guns boomed salutes, Marines stood at attention, brass bands blared out marches. Reporters played up his appeals to local interests and civic pride. Years later Louisiana politicians were remembering that he had got the New Orleans navy yard reopened.

  Doggedly helping Roosevelt in all these political activities was Louis Howe. Officially, as Roosevelt’s assistant, Howe worked on procurement, contracts, construction, labor relations, and he spent a good deal of time on such matters. Actually he was assistant in charge of politics—a congenial job for a man who had made his chief’s advancement his own life aim. Day after day Howe coached Roosevelt on the fine points of political thrust and parry. A typical bit of advice involved a letter from one Frank Cooper, an office seeker, which Roosevelt had marked to be answered. Don’t answer it, counseled Howe. “Clute [a rival to Cooper] has now been confirmed by the Senate and if you should write Cooper expressing your regrets he would be the first to show the letter to Clute some fine day when he wanted something of Clute or in case you did not do something he wanted you to do for him.” Howe was instinctively hostile toward any politician who might stand in Roosevelt’s way—a trait that was often vindicated by events but one that gained Howe a good many enemies.

  Howe’s chief service to Roosevelt was curbing his young chief’s impetuosity when conditions called for a policy of watchful waiting. Unhappily, Howe was not around to advise him when Roosevelt made the decision to run for United States Senator—a decision that led to the only real election defeat of his career and to a resounding victory for Tammany. Informing Howe of his decision, Roosevelt was almost apologetic. “My senses have not yet left me,” he said.

  Perhaps Roosevelt’s political sense had left him. The story of his try for the Democratic nomination for United States Senator in 1914 is a story of improvisation, faulty intelligence work, and bad luck.

  The political situation in New York in 1913 had taken a dramatic turn. The new governor, “Plain Bill” Sulzer—the instrument of Murphy’s defeat of Roosevelt and the Empire State Democracy in 1912—had turned on Tammany even before taking office. From the executive mansion—renamed by Plain Bill the “People’s House”—issued a torrent of denunciation of the bosses. Murphy hit back hard. Tammany started impeachment proceedings against Sulzer on the grounds of misusing campaign funds; in October 1913 Sulzer was convicted and removed from office. Lieutena
nt Governor Martin H. Glynn, an Albany politician close to Murphy, took his place. The divided Democrats lost heavily in the assembly elections the following month.

  To Roosevelt this seemed the golden opportunity to strike a demolishing blow against Murphy. In the election, Tammany had lost control of New York City and much of its patronage; the national administration regarded it with distaste; if the Tiger’s grip on the state government was severed it might starve to death. Roosevelt himself was under much pressure, especially from the old Empire State Democracy group, to run for governor the next year.

  Everything depended on President Wilson. Armed with administration backing and patronage, Roosevelt could take a commanding position in state affairs. Without Wilson’s permission the assistant secretary, as a member of the administration, could take no decisive action at all. Months went by, but Wilson did not give him the signal. On the contrary, the President continued to dole out patronage to Tammanyites and independent Democrats alike. When in March 1914 Roosevelt asked Wilson for “five minutes” to see how far he might go in speaking out on New York politics, Wilson wrote in reply: “My judgment is that it would be best if members of the administration should use as much influence as possible but say as little as possible in the politics of their several states”; particularly in this case, the President added, for in New York “the plot is not yet clear.”

  Roosevelt wanted to make the plot clear. Barred from open action, he flirted briefly with the New York Progressive party. He evidently hoped to gain the Progressive as well as the Democratic nomination for governor, unless, of course, the Progressives nominated Cousin Theodore; “I will not run against him,” said Franklin. “You know blood is thicker than water.” But Cousin Theodore neither ran himself nor helped turn Progressive support to Franklin. The latter then redoubled his efforts to strengthen the anti-Tammany Democrats through patronage. He was assisted in this by McAdoo, who had long-term interests of his own in building up the independent Democracy. Together they managed to get some appointments for anti-Tammany men and rumors spread that soon there would be more.

  Stung on its most tender flank, Tammany was quick to retaliate. The chairman of the important Committee of Appropriations of the House of Representatives warned Wilson that he and the other Democratic congressmen from New York City would not stand being slandered by persons professing to be authorized spokesmen for the President. The Democratic state chairman of New York said that the party upstate had become so demoralized as a result of the patronage situation that he doubted if the Democrats could elect a single congressman.

  Wilson saw the danger signals. He put out a conciliatory statement toward Tammany. And Roosevelt, who had been making formal disavowals of his candidacy, issued an announcement on July 23 that sounded as though he really meant it.

  Wilson’s strategy was as careful as Roosevelt’s was clumsy. The President liked the young assistant secretary, but he knew that more important matters were at stake than Rooseveltian efforts to purify New York State. To put his program through Congress he needed a united party. Several Tammany representatives held key chairmanships as a result of their seniority. Patronage was important; only after Wilson appointed an acceptable person to the prized New York City customs collectorship did Senator O’Gorman vote for the Federal Reserve bill. The President, moreover, had to keep in mind his own prospects for re-election in 1916. His chances in the key state of New York would be forlorn if the party should be divided.

  Roosevelt had been rebuffed. Three weeks after he gave up hope for the governorship, however, he suddenly announced that he was a candidate for Senator. Why?

  Despite Roosevelt’s coyness he was eager throughout the latter part of 1913 and the early part of 1914 to make a statewide run for an important office in New York. Partly it was the example of Uncle Ted, who had entered the executive mansion in Albany two years after becoming assistant secretary of the navy. Partly it was Franklin Roosevelt’s feeling that he must strike out in state politics while memories of his anti-Sheehan fight were still warm, or while the Republicans and the Bull Moosers were still divided. Perhaps, too, it was a fear that rising men in New York Democratic politics would take the center of the stage if he stayed too long in the wings. It is certain that even while he was giving up his gubernatorial ideas he was thinking of the senatorship; “I might declare myself a candidate for U.S. Senator in the Democratic and Progressive Primaries,” he wrote on July 19 to his wife, who was waiting the arrival of a child. “The Governorship is, thank God, out of the question.… I really would like to be in the Senate just so as to get a summer really with my family once in every three or four years!”

  Roosevelt did not clear his candidacy with Wilson. His tactic was to get into the race fast since “this would necessarily place any other candidate who may be put forward by Charles F. Murphy in the position of opposing me,” as he wrote to a friend. “I want to throw the burden of proof on the other attorney.” Also, if he was the first man in the race, he could ask prominent New York leaders for support without embarrassing them. After a series of conferences he teamed up with John A. Hennessy, who would be the anti-Tammany candidate for the gubernatorial nomination.

  For a while it seemed that Roosevelt might have no opponent, or that if he did it would be William Randolph Hearst. Either prospect delighted Roosevelt; he felt he could beat the notorious publisher “in spite of his wad and his papers.” But Roosevelt made no effort to keep a Murphy man out of the race; on the contrary, his denunciations of the Tammany boss were so sharp, as Howe himself admitted, that it would “almost force them to put someone in the field against him.”

  Once again Roosevelt underestimated Murphy’s resourcefulness. Reports soon were spreading that Tammany would back James Gerard, ambassador to Germany, for the nomination. An upright, well-liked member of Tammany, Gerard was a Wilson man who at the moment was enjoying a good deal of notice for helping Americans stranded by the outbreak of the European war. For days Roosevelt refused to believe that Gerard would accept the tempting bait Murphy held out for him. Howe had confidential information that there was not the “slightest chance” Gerard would run. Neither Roosevelt nor Howe knew that Gerard cabled Bryan and Wilson to clear his acceptance and the President made no objection.

  Gerard threw his hat in the ring—but from a distance. He said that his duties would not permit his return to campaign. He knew he could afford to leave his affairs in Murphy’s hands. Roosevelt demanded of Gerard whether he would be controlled by Murphy if elected senator; the ambassador did not reply. The assistant secretary said that a man who would leave his military post of duty was not fit to be a senator; he said nothing about his own absence from his navy post while the conflagration was blazing up in Europe.

  Despite this blow, and despite his pessimism as to the outcome, Roosevelt conducted a strenuous campaign. Ranging through upstate New York, he repeatedly attacked Murphy and demanded that Gerard stay at his post. Securing labor endorsements from his union friends in Washington he had tens of thousands of copies of the endorsement—some unhappily lacking the union label—handed out at plant gates. Under Howe’s guidance he wrote friendly letters to dozens of newspaper editors, at the same time arranging for advertising. But he rarely could find mass audiences; the primary, which took place late in September 1914, during the first great battles of the war, did not attract much attention.

  “He is quiet and unassuming,” one editor wrote, “has the demeanor and poise of the student, and with his youthful scholarly face and soft accent, he gives no indication of the stubborn attitude that his friends claim he can assume on occasion.… Some of his utterances were planned with the skill of an old campaigner.…” But the editor—a Republican—was not overly impressed. Roosevelt had not made his position on the “great questions of the day” at all clear in his speech, he said, and compared to retiring Senator Elihu Root he cut a sorry figure as a great statesman.

  Back in headquarters Howe was fighting the patronage battle.
By a last-minute manipulation of jobs he hoped to hold friends firm and win over recalcitrants among the small bands of Democrats who would bother to vote. When Roosevelt asked one of his appointees, John B. Judson, for support and Judson replied candidly but pleasantly that he could not back him, Howe was ruthless. He could not “too strongly urge the importance of sudden and swift reprisal in this case.” Wherever possible Judson’s friends must lose their appointments and his “bitterest enemies” be given jobs. An influential Democrat might be induced to break with Judson if given control of some patronage, and anti-Judson newspapers must be used. Roosevelt agreed that the deserter should be punished.

  All in vain. On primary day the absentee Gerard beat Roosevelt 210,765 to 76,888, with 23,977 votes going to a third candidate. Murphy’s candidate, Glynn, defeated Hennessy by a somewhat heavier vote. Roosevelt had the consolation of winning over a third of the state’s sixty-one counties, including Dutchess County by a sweeping vote, but Democrats were sparse in most of these counties. Tammany had shown its strength even upstate, where Gerard ran better than two to one. All in all, it was a bad beating for the young politician.

  Roosevelt promptly cabled Gerard his congratulations, adding that he would campaign for him if the ambassador would declare his unalterable opposition to Murphy’s leadership. Gerard smoothly replied that of course he would represent the whole party and people and no faction or individual if elected, and Roosevelt made some speeches for him. In the November elections, however, both Gerard and Glynn lost to their Republican rivals. “I am sorry …” said Roosevelt, “but not entirely surprised.”