by Hugh Ambrose
When Willebrandt arrived at Newton’s office later that day, she held to her charge that Al Smith, not she, had injected religion and Prohibition issues into the campaign. When asked if she operated as a “free lance” speaker, as Republican Party chairman Hubert Work had avowed, Willebrandt deferred to Newton, who clarified his earlier statements, stating she “certainly has been speaking under the auspices of the speaker’s bureau of the Republican national committee” and would continue to do so when asked. Perhaps to show there were no hard feelings, Willebrandt, Newton, and James Good, Hoover’s campaign manager in the western United States, allowed a photograph; the assistant attorney general is smiling, her eyes averted from the camera, and she is flanked by the two men, Newton looking lazily at the camera, and Good looking somewhat disapprovingly at Willebrandt.34
With that, Willebrandt hopped a train for Washington, D.C., satisfied with the public display of support, but nursing her wounds at Work’s noncommittal description of her efforts as “free lance.” In a letter written during the ride home, she noted that she wouldn’t contradict Work in the press for fear it would detract from the campaign, but that she emphatically had never made a speech on behalf of the Hoover campaign without it being arranged by the national committee. Further, she had asked the committee not to send her to Ohio and Pennsylvania, states where Hoover’s support was questionable; she reminded Work of her letter of September 6, in which she asked to be excused from any speeches anywhere. In advance of her first Ohio speech, she had submitted the transcript to J. Francis Burke, counsel for the Republican National Committee and a Catholic, to ensure that none of her remarks would seem intolerant of Catholicism or any other religion. Similarly, she had submitted her Lorain, Ohio, speech in advance to the Speaker’s Bureau, and had received no adverse comments. She concluded by saying she did not expect Work “to recall in the manifold responsibilities and hard work of this campaign” all of the events she related, but it was her “genuine opinion that great damage is being done the campaign by the picture of disorganization and lack of solidarity presented when you and your state leaders show hesitation, or express criticism of the Ohio speeches.”35 The party leadership’s disavowal of the content of her speeches, while they continually returned her to the stump, suggested they were exploiting, if not actually creating, the controversy as a means to highlight Smith’s Catholicism as a factor in his opposition to Prohibition. Using Willebrandt to deliver the message allowed the candidate to keep his distance from an unsavory topic while Willebrandt, unwittingly, planted seeds of doubt in the minds of voters, especially in states leaning Democrat. Her letter to Work hinted at such deception, but her commitment to securing the continuation of Prohibition overrode her trepidation.
Willebrandt returned to the campaign trail on October 8, giving a speech in Owensboro, Kentucky, focused on the dangers of Al Smith’s anti-Prohibition stance. Calling to mind the reasons for Prohibition’s existence, Willebrandt claimed Smith was “just one thing to women on the subject of Prohibition: the champion of the liquor interests and as such a menace to their homes and the welfare of growing children.”36 Democrats suggested the assistant attorney general was equating the Catholic Church and its membership with support of the liquor trade.37 In her final speech before the election, Willebrandt called out her critics as “a shallow intelligentsia and those who hurl the epithet of bigot for political effect . . . Because of my unflinching opposition to those professional Catholic politicians, who have sought to mislead their coreligionists into the belief that loyalty to Prohibition is little short of heresy,” she proclaimed, “I have been attacked as a bigot.” She had no more time for false accusations, and she looked forward to a new era of tolerance led by Herbert Hoover, who, she believed, radiated “true toleration, Christian kindness and high idealism.”38
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The fear harbored by the Republican leadership that Willebrandt’s comments might backfire and cast the entire party as a group of bigots proved unfounded. Hoover’s personality, experience, and commitment to Prohibition brought him a substantial victory. Irving Fisher, a highly respected economist at Yale University, declared that the election produced two findings: first, voters firmly supported Prohibition; and, second, so long as prosperity continued, the Republicans would dominate the White House and Capitol Hill.39 While reliable statistics did not exist, Fisher attributed the “more firm establishment” of Prohibition, in large part, to women, who he judged were “undoubtedly an important factor” in Hoover’s victory. Simon Michelet, president of the National Get-Out-the-Vote Club, estimated that as many as six million new women voters participated in the election, based on a sample review of voter registration across the country.40 Still further proof of the burgeoning female voter class and its impact was verified by the Republican National Committee’s Research Bureau, which conducted a survey after the election. The bureau concluded that “the militant support of Mr. Hoover by America’s womanhood was a constant in every state,” ensuring victory in states where the margin was close with Smith and generating huge majorities in others, serving as a mandate for the new president-elect. The bureau’s report concluded that the “indifference or aversion to political activity which had characterized a large percentage of women ever since equal suffrage became a fact was overcome.”41
Pauline Sabin had no doubts about the role of women in the election and declared, “It was the women’s votes which helped more than anything to elect Mr. Hoover.”42 Four months later, she resigned her post on the Republican National Committee, saying only that she thought it another woman’s turn to serve. When reporters asked if she had resigned because of her opposition to Prohibition, which stood in contrast to Hoover’s calls for rigid enforcement, Sabin said only that she had quit for personal reasons.43
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In the early days of 1929, rumors circled around Mabel Willebrandt, some people suggesting she might resign, others recommending her for the position of attorney general. Several among those in the latter group posited that she was due the post not just in recognition of her achievements, but as a reward for women, whose votes helped Herbert Hoover to victory.44 Publicly, Willebrandt denied any thoughts of resigning, but privately, she hinted at the burden of politics and how “the crucial campaign—tore the body, for others it is broke over spirit, I guess.”45 She lamented the spotlight shone on her during the election, sharing with her parents an article typical of her critics, which spoke of “the delightful ‘igloo of silence’ into which Mrs. W has gone since the election, hoping it may go on, and on, and on. Well, with my enemies I hope, too, it may go on, and have no desire . . . to stir up comment.” Willebrandt did not want to be chased from office, but she confessed, “Lately I don’t seem able to keep my heart high. I’ve got a cowardly streak I guess. I want to run. I guess every hunted animal wants to hunt his hole to lick his wounds and have his lair mates help him lick ’em too! Well, I just feel so alone—no one interested to ‘lick my wounds’ of heart and soul!”
She had not raised the idea of resignation with President-elect Hoover, but perhaps in a demonstration of his plans for Willebrandt, he had “sent hints my way that he’d finance it if I’d go take over the formation of a citizen ‘army’ nationwide, including Edison, Ford, etc. to lead in law observance. It would be useful. It’s alluring for the good it’d do. The contacts would be fine—but I can’t yet accept it.” She compared her plight to that of Job, the biblical character who, for all his good works, encountered new challenges at every turn. When her efforts at prison reforms were rebuffed in the U.S. House of Representatives, Fiorello La Guardia—“socialist, anti-Prohibitionist,” in Willebrandt’s view, and thus an unlikely ally—came to her defense. Writing to her parents, she paraphrased La Guardia: “I never approve the Dept of Justice if I can help it, but you’re right, you’re uncovering graft, and no one doubts your honor and effectiveness when they are skeptical of most e
veryone else.” Recommitting herself, she decided, “I’ll have to write a new book of Job, if these deliverances keep on, I’ll have the old man worsted!”46
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In December 1928, Prohibition Commissioner Doran received a report made by an efficiency expert who had visited Seattle the previous month, investigating allegations of various improprieties committed by William Whitney, Roy Lyle, and other top agents. Doran was upset to learn that after one year the Seattle office still had not implemented the reorganization plan. Writing to Lyle, Doran inveighed, “I understand that you and your legal adviser are not inclined to favor the application [of the new plan, but] the secretary of the treasury has instructed me to apply the present classification law uniformly throughout the field service.”47 Lyle, who like Whitney believed that his relationship with Senator Jones was more important than taking orders from the head of his agency, sent Doran as hot a letter as the weak-willed administrator could write. Explaining that the efficiency expert had obviously filed a report “deliberately and intentionally untruthful,” Lyle admitted he had implemented only those changes he deemed worthwhile, knowing better than the expert, who was, Lyle implied, a wet.48
Lyle forwarded a copy of the letter to Jones, adding another with even more attacks upon the efficiency expert, who “apparently came here thoroughly poisoned and especially antagonistic to Mr. Whitney.” Dismissing the report, Lyle expressed his real concern: the expert had left Seattle headed for a meeting with Willebrandt. She was the enemy, Lyle pronounced: “Mrs. Willebrandt is, and has been for some time, doing everything possible that she could in a covered up way, to deprecate the personnel and achievements of many of the federal Prohibition organizations.”49
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If Mabel Willebrandt harbored any hope for the post of attorney general, it came crashing down when Herbert Hoover asked her to assess other candidates for the job. She performed the chore with her characteristic mixture of thoughtfulness and bluntness, telling Hoover, “Your Attorney General will make or break your Administration. Raised by the campaign to a high pitch of faith in you, the public expects too much from you and expects it too soon. The Prohibitionists are eager and hopeful and will not well bear postponement or disappointment. The religious extremists on both sides are ready to spring. Your Attorney General must be a doer. He must inspire faith. He must be over and above all other things, an executive with the ability to put morale into indifferent men.” The statement defined all the strengths Willebrandt had exhibited in the previous eight years.50 Given her parameters and the field of candidates presented to her, Willebrandt recommended Nathan Miller, former governor of New York, for whom Pauline Sabin had worked on his 1922 campaign. When Hoover picked William Mitchell, the solicitor general with whom Willebrandt had battled on tax case responsibilities, it proved a stinging rebuke of her opinions, and signaled the beginning of the end for the assistant attorney general tasked with Prohibition enforcement.
Willebrandt’s mind and mood took a brief respite from her disappointment and indecision when she attended the annual Baby Cabinet dinner at the White House for the top assistants in each executive department. For seven years, Willebrandt had been the only woman there. At this one, the end of the road for most in attendance before the change in administrations, the twenty-seven male members of the Baby Cabinet paid Willebrandt “the loveliest tributes,” prompting her to respond:
In 7 years I have sat with you. The spirit that made you take me in, making me at all times without mawkishness feel one of you has been fine. It has not always been easy I know full well nor without sacrifice of your inclinations and convenience, but it has not gone unnoticed by me nor unappreciated. You have been generous and sportsmanly and I thank you.51
Though she had made no final decision, her remarks had the ring of someone on the way out.
As much as Willebrandt would determine her fate alone, a declaration of support from Herbert Hoover would have had great influence on her decision. The New Yorker wrote that Willebrandt “will unquestionably be one of the administration’s major problems.” The magazine assumed Hoover would not want her back, but pondered what would become of “the personification of a national phenomenon.” And, despite a decidedly negative tone in the article, the magazine wondered, “There must be a niche somewhere for the conscience of a country which, as its votes and biological statistics show, wants not only liquor but also a law against liquor.”52
Ten days later, Willebrandt got her answer. Hoover called her at home, asking, “Anyone on the line?”—an acknowledgment that most phones were connected to party lines, accessible by anyone of the “party,” usually consisting of a building’s residents or several homes on a street, with busybodies often hanging on the lines, listening for gossip. Willebrandt answered, “No, it is clear.” Then Hoover said, “I would have had you over were it possible to avoid comment and speculation. I just wanted to tell you the new atty genl [William Mitchell] is a friend of yours,” clearly trying to mitigate her past tribulations with the man. Hoover continued, “I say that because maybe when you see him you might not think so but he is and we want you to stay on.” Taken aback, Willebrandt said nothing, so Hoover continued, “At least for a while it will be best for you. You deserve the recognition it will mean and the work desires it and needs you.”
Reporting the call to her parents, Willebrandt revealed, “I was intensely hurt that he asked me that way. It is part and parcel of the many back stairs methods he adopted of dealing with me and with the drys during the campaign. The courteous thing would have been for him to ask me to come to his home and talk to me face to face. I think it goes to prove the thing I have feared, and my instinct has told me long ago that fundamentally he doesn’t feel on a level with women nor deal with them as much as men. That he could put it off with just a phone call and a patronizing comment hurts me bitterly. The real truth is that he needs to have me stay for a while, but instead of saying so frankly he put it that I needed it—as tho he were doing me a great favor.”53 Willebrandt would not complain anymore, but she struggled to “see how I can go thru the next few months.”
Her task got no easier when Hoover invited her to a dinner at the White House shortly after his inauguration. Hoover “was most cordial,” and asked Willebrandt if Attorney General Mitchell had talked to her about the president’s plan to resolve bureaucratic logjams in Prohibition enforcement. Mitchell had not discussed the matter with her, though a week had passed since the president had asked his attorney general to do so. Believing Mitchell incapable of delegating authority, Willebrandt felt “just as tho I had been pushed out on a limb, can’t get down and no way back because of the heavy responsibility.” In addition to her sense of abandonment, she confessed, “The wretched thing is that I personify Prohibition. The anti-Hoover forces wish to break him on Prohibition and to do that any pretext is seized upon to discredit me.”54 With such a view of her predicament, Willebrandt could have seen only one way out, despite her deep commitment to a problem unresolved.
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On February 11, 1929, more than six months after he had been led to believe his reappointment was imminent, William Whitney received word that he had been appointed senior attorney. “You and Lyle are now fixed,” Senator Jones proclaimed, adding, “I have no fears as to the outcome.”55 Lyle’s and Whitney’s fears and fantasies of betrayal over the previous two years had continued up until the moment Whitney opened his letter from Assistant Secretary Lowman. A second letter, from Alf Oftedal, contained the respect due to Whitney for all of his achievements, noting his efforts to convict rumrunners and to “break down a number of the outstanding obstacles to enforcement,” surely a reference to the numerous convictions his work had wrought.56 The letter would have been worthy of rejoicing had it not been for one word: “probationary.”57 That uncertain status required Whitney to prove himself worthy, a condition
he would have considered odious and sure to spark visions of devious schemes rising against him again.
In April, Al Hubbard came to the Prohibition Unit offices and asked to see Whitney. Hubbard began, with a chuckle, to tell his former boss about two of his acquaintances who had been caught bootlegging. As his story continued in a roundabout way, hilarious to the storyteller, Hubbard dropped a hint. If these two men were freed, there would be a substantial reward from an unnamed, but clearly nefarious, benefactor. Whitney saw no humor in a bribe, only insult, and he ordered Hubbard “to get out and stay out.”58 After Hubbard exited, Whitney became concerned about his former protégé, and the wisdom of having had him so involved in undercover work where corruption was an easy and lucrative offering.
Rebuffed and desperate, Hubbard believed he had another card to play. He took the long train trip to Washington, D.C., and found his way to the office of Assistant Attorney General Mabel Willebrandt. They sat down together on May 15, Hubbard surely donning the mask of an innocent, distressed youth, struggling perhaps to hold the facade as he met the unblinking eyes focused upon him. The boy wonder explained to Willebrandt that he had participated in a huge conspiracy, under the direction of his boss, William Whitney. At some length, and with telling details invented as he spoke, Hubbard explained that he delivered bribes of thirty to fifty thousand dollars to the senior attorney, with lesser amounts paid to Roy Lyle and top agent Earl Corwin. As the man at the center of this conspiracy between the King of the Bootleggers and the leaders of the Twentieth Prohibition District, Hubbard provided dates, locations, quotations, and more. Much of what he told her was true, after a fashion, making the lies difficult to spot.