FDR always remained detached and above the fray when familial strife emerged, which only added to the tension. For days after SDR’s remark, ER felt “ready to chew everyone’s head off!”
Then Harlem exploded on 19 March 1935, when a young boy was caught stealing a 10-cent penknife and momentarily disappeared into the cellar of a Kress department store. Immediately, neighborhood women ran to the street and cried that he was to be beaten, lynched just as in the South. Police were called, not to placate the fearful, but to tyrannize them. Nobody knew that the boy, Lino Rivera, had been released and was on the subway headed home; nobody spoke to the people. Lynchings were much in mind. The Costigan-Wagner bill was in the headlines, and the death of Claude Neal lingered.
Residents assembled to protest and protect each other. An ambulance arrived, and a woman screamed: There is the hearse, to take him. The neighborhood exploded. All day and night, fires raged, windows were shattered, people were beaten. The toll was high: 100 wounded, shot or knifed; 125 arrested; 250 shop windows smashed; three dead, shot by the police.
A young assistant pastor of the Abyssinian Baptist Church, Dr. Adam Clayton Powell, Jr., explained: “Continued exploitation of the Negro is at the bottom of the trouble … as regards wages, jobs, working conditions.” Everyone, businesses, utilities, even government assistance programs, “discriminated against Harlem’s population…. And the people were finally fed up.”
Mayor Fiorello La Guardia initiated a study, done by Negro sociologist E. Franklin Frazier. A monumental work, The Negro in Harlem: A Report on Social and Economic Conditions Responsible for the Outbreak of 19 March 1935, revealed after twenty-five hearings what was widely known: A concerted effort to degrade the lives of Harlem’s residents included everything from “the most vicious Negro hater” in charge of Harlem’s relief bureau, to neglect and abuse in housing, health, education, and jobs; and a pattern of violence that “likened the New York Police Department to a racist army of occupation.” La Guardia suppressed the report, but vowed to make changes, and did. Frazier’s work stimulated consideration of America’s ghettoes for years to come, and ER would participate on every level. But in 1935, there was little she could do, except cajole, request, argue—which she did.
Despite ER’s confession of dread to SDR concerning four more years in the White House, as early as February 1935 ER and her circle had launched the women’s campaign for FDR’s reelection. Every state had a women’s Reporter Plan committee, which published attractive pamphlets to highlight FDR’s legislative achievements and future goals. Written and designed largely by Dew-son and ER, they “put vitality into the party” and served as the major organizing effort of the entire 1936 campaign.
There was little resistance among ER’s friends when asked to work for FDR’s reelection. When various programs important to them failed, they dug in for the next battle. Agnes Brown Leach, a founder of the Woman’s Peace Party, which became the Women’s International League for Peace and Freedom, and an ardent internationalist who supported the World Court, was pleased to chair New York State’s Reporter Plan committee. Leach once called her friend Frances Perkins “a half-loaf girl: take what you can now and try for more later,” and that was generally the attitude of all the women in ER’s network.
Ellen Woodward, for example, urged ER to speak to her husband about WPA—which until April seemed to limit work projects exclusively to men—and there was “much uneasiness felt by women all over the country.” But there was no public criticism, as they closed ranks to support FDR’s efforts.
Even Lucy Randolph Mason, a pioneering Southern rebel with proud Georgian roots, who was soon to spend the rest of her life campaigning for black representation, women’s rights, and civil rights, said nothing about discrimination in social security in April 1935. Indeed, as head of the National Consumers League, Mason consented, and Dewson was proud that the NCL “swung into line with complete support” for social security: “I think we were the first organization to give support without criticism or further suggestion.”
FDR’s silence concerning these critical issues continued, and by the end of April ER was in a rare state. It was so bad she canceled a long-planned weekend with Hick, and told her to stay away for a few more weeks:
I’m too darn busy these days to be good to anyone and also too deeply upset I think. I’m glad I’m going to be away for a bit before you come home for I’m so on edge it is all I can do to hold myself together just now. That is not a good mood for you to return to, is it?…
ER “asked Tommy to have the [press] girls to supper [at her home] tomorrow night. I just had to get out of here and do something I enjoyed!” She hoped Hick would see Hall in Detroit and listen to FDR’s speech. ER wanted Hick’s reactions: “Mine are not reliable just now!”
ER’s mood was transformed by FDR’s 28 April 1935 Fireside Chat on the WPA and social security. As inclusive as ER had urged him to make it, when his resonant reassuring voice boomed across America’s heartland to “My Friends,” nobody was left out.
“The job of creating a program for the nation’s welfare is … like the building of a ship,” he said. You could not see it all as it was being built, and made seaworthy to sail “the high seas,” but out of the many “detailed parts … the creation of a useful instrument for man ultimately comes.”
FDR wanted it understood that he spoke this night to “the American people as a whole.” There was no hint that he intended entire groups to be excluded from old-age pensions or unemployment insurance: At a certain age of retirement, people would “give up their jobs … to the younger generation,” and “all, old and young alike,” would have “a feeling of security as they look toward old age.”
The work plan was the “most comprehensive” in U.S. history. WPA would “put to work three and one-half million employable persons, men and women….” There it was: Woodward, Dewson, Perkins, and his wife had all urged him to say it, and he did:
Our responsibility is to all of the people in this country. This is a great national crusade, a crusade to destroy enforced idleness which is an enemy of the human spirit…. Our attack upon these enemies must be without stint and without discrimination. No sectional, no political distinctions can be permitted.
ER was relieved, and had only one remaining cavil: FDR said nothing about one of the most important pending pieces of legislation, the Wagner labor relations bill, to promote democratic labor organizing and create a National Labor Relations Board to guarantee federal support for independent unionism.
ER supported Senator Wagner’s comprehensive labor law, and her old friend Robert Wagner was impressed that she showed up unannounced and uninvited at several hearings and conferences to knit, listen, and demonstrate her approval. FDR supported it belatedly, after it was certain to pass.
Nevertheless, after FDR’s speech, ER felt “much more cheerful.” The next day she had a grand morning ride; spoke on the radio for child health care; saw congressional leaders, Helen Keller, several others; and received 2,800 guests at the garden party: “My calm has returned and my goat has ceased bleating. Why do I let myself go in that way?”
Now that peace was restored, Hick admitted she had been mightily worried that ER planned to leave her husband. The thought horrified Hick; it would be a national catastrophe. ER reassured her: “Hick darling…. I’m sorry I worried you so much. I know I’ve got to stick. I know I’ll never make an open break and I never tell FDR how I feel…. I blow off to you, but never to F!”
Their correspondence emphasized ER’s springtime upset for over a week, and ER explained: “Darling I do take happiness in many ways and I’m never likely to fight with F. I always ‘shut up.’”
On 2 May, ER celebrated Jane Addams’s seventy-fifth birthday and WILPF’s twentieth anniversary with a White House reception and festive dinner at the Willard Hotel that had been planned for months by a committee chaired by Anna Wilmarth Ickes. In January, during the Cause and Cure of War Conference meetings, ER had s
uggested that a Congressional Medal of Honor be issued to Jane Addams—to acknowledge that military service was not the only honorable international work to be rewarded.
But Addams considered it a “wild” idea. She had been viciously attacked during 1935 by isolationists and Red-baiters who called her a communist; and the well-funded, widely distributed Red Network called her “the most dangerous woman in America.” Since Congress was dominated by conservatives, Addams believed her entire career would be mired by controversy. WILPF reluctantly agreed, and the medal committee was disbanded.
At the “biggest dinner ever held at the Willard,” Jane Addams’s life and vision were celebrated by America’s foremost reformers, activists, and New Dealers. Caroline O’Day was toastmaster and ER first speaker. She hailed Addams as one of America’s “greatest living women.” Broadcast nationally over NBC, the event also featured an international hookup that beamed from WILPF headquarters in Geneva. ER was, however, prevented from participating in that part of the festivities.
Silenced by the State Department on most international issues, ER evidently acceded without protest to a State Department memo: “It is the opinion of the State Department that Mrs. Roosevelt should not speak over the international broadcast. In foreign countries … it would be considered as official and as the equivalent of the royal family….” As a result, ER’s name disappeared from the final “Round-the-World Broadcast” list, which included Harold Ickes from Washington, Arthur Henderson from London, Madame Krupskaya and Madame Litvinov from Moscow, and Prince Tokugawa from Tokyo, among others.
On 7 May, ER wrote Hick to continue their discussion of love and loyalty, relative and real happiness. She differed with Hick “on the thing which counts in the long run.” For ER it was “never any one person’s happiness, it is that of the greatest number of people.” If one achieved happiness incidentally, “well and good, but remember always you are damned unimportant! No, dear, we [ER and FDR] won’t have scenes. I made up my mind to that last time and I never have spoken to him about this but this burying things in your heart makes certain things look pretty odd in the future and I think a little plain talk then will be a violent shock….”
Another source of ER’s springtime upset involved FDR’s insistence that eldest son James move to the White House to replace Louis Howe as his primary assistant. ER disapproved, foresaw press criticisms, and felt miserable when cruel articles about nepotism, favoritism, and scandal were printed. James, profoundly disappointed, withdrew—but only temporarily. Both her son and her husband were angered by ER’s lack of support.
Dismayed to feel the culprit, ER looked forward to a serene week at Val-Kill with Earl. On a lighter note, she was delighted that Hick was now able “to touch the floor!”
The new pool at Val-Kill was lovely, and new pine trees were planted. When all the trees are in “we will be completely sheltered from the road and able to take sun baths in peace!” Earl had left for a guards meeting, “so Nan and I are getting our own supper and having it before the fire—That is the kind of thing I’d like to do with you. Perhaps we will on Long Island.”
ER loved the peace of the cottage, and it was a “grand day,” despite the “succession of notables” who visited the big house.
On her return from Val-Kill, three of Hick’s lost letters and a wire awaited ER, and “made me think and try to formulate what I believe” about love and the meaning of happiness. Dealing with emotional issues was hard for ER. For years she simply avoided them, although her fundamental understanding about love remained constant from adolescence on, when Marie Souvestre sparked her feelings about romance with literature and poetry.
Her truest feeling about love survived hurts and disappointments. Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s poem which she had sent FDR in 1903 reverberated through time and echoed in each loving relationship: “Unless you can swear, ‘For life or death!’/Oh, fear to call it loving!”
ER’s letter was labored, but carried a message of permanence. Yet it contained other messages about the vagaries of love and happiness. The wounds to her heart had left her wary and self-protective. She would not be hurt that way again. Not by FDR, not by Hick, not by anyone. Still, she did not retreat from love, or the pursuit of love:
I think it is this way, to most of us happiness comes through the love we give and the return love we feel … from those we love. There does not have to be a balance however, we may love more or less since there is no measure of love. Over the years the type of love felt on either side may change but if the fundamental love is there I believe in the end the relationship adjusts to something deep and satisfying to both people. For instance I know you often have a feeling for me which for one reason or another I may not return in kind but I feel I love you just the same and so often we entirely satisfy each other that I feel there is a fundamental basis on which our relationship stands….
ER grew up surrounded by people; she sought and found happiness in groups, juggled many relationships. Hick grew up isolated on the prairie; she often felt reclusive, craved solitude, and wanted an exclusive relationship. Wrenched from her profession, Hick now focused on one person to satisfy all her needs. But ER was increasingly preoccupied by affairs of state and the needs of all Americans. As a journalist, Hick had been secure, dashing, and independent. Now she had sacrificed her work and her selfhood, and was often irritable and needy. ER’s role became increasingly maternal and care-taking, which satisfied neither of them. Still neither wanted their relationship to end, and she continued to pull Hick back when she moved away.
ER wanted Hick to find real satisfaction in her new WPA work, and she wrote hopefully: “It is a little like newspaper work again, isn’t it?” For the first time in their correspondence, ER acknowledged that only when Hick was happy at work would there be contentment between them—which she promised to promote during their reunion the next week: They “must have happy times together always.” And she encouraged Hick to see herself more clearly. Upon hearing that Hick’s reunion with her friend and teacher Alicent Holt went well, ER noted: “You will never learn what a strong personality you have and how much people admire you but then I like that about you!”
The next day she wrote: “I love you dearly. Only four more days before I see you! A world of thoughts go to you daily and Mabel says ‘sure be nice to have Miss Hickok home’!” And a day later: “Dearest I can hardly wait to hug you. There is no doubt about it part of one’s joy in life is anticipation, if only one doesn’t suffer as you do when fulfillment doesn’t come up to the anticipation!”
On 20 May, ER held one of her most memorable press conferences. Ellen Woodward announced that women were to be integral to the new WPA program. She was again in charge of “women’s work,” only this time the projects were broadened to include “Recreation, Art, Music, Dramatics, Health and Research.” There would be new adventures in publishing and theater, including state Guidebooks, historical records, book repair, and library work of all kinds. Artists, white-collar workers, and professionals would be included as never before. Delighted, ER introduced the “grand idea!” to America’s journalists.
There would also be new programs for “Training Household Workers,” which ER thought should be supplemented by programs for the housewife, “to set up standards for her household that would be decent and equitable to workers” and establish “a decent standard of living.”
During the 1930s when so many working women served as household workers, ER’s views were heretical and were condemned as subversive. Her support for WPA’s servant training program and her insistence that servants deserved respect and equitable pay engendered rumors of “Eleanor Clubs,” comprised of servants and malcontents who demanded minimum wages, maximum hours, and no longer acknowledged their servility or “their place.” Eleanor Club rumors escalated over the years and included “pushing days” when Southern servants insisted on walking on the wrong (paved) side of the street and pushing whites off the sidewalk. After ER’s press conference, she
was routinely attacked for “ruining” America’s servants.
On 21 May, ER made headline hews: “First Lady Tours Coal Mine in Ohio.” Invited to go down a coal mine with Clarence Pickett, ER had asked Hick to join them. It would be a two-hour trip “and we will get dirty. So wear suitable clothes, if you know what is suitable. I confess I am stumped.”
They wore miner’s caps and rode at the front of a mine train for two miles deep into the shaft, where they watched four hundred miners at work. The New Yorker commemorated the occasion with a cartoon of two coal miners looking up surprised, “Here comes Mrs. Roosevelt!” It became one of the most reproduced cartoons of the White House years.
Afterward, ER addressed the first graduates of “the People’s University,” in Bellaire, Ohio. A community-involved adult education miners’ school that featured over forty courses, the university was initiated by local activists, teachers, unionists, and housewives, who taught two hundred students without salary. ER considered it an inspiring project and told her audience of 2,500: “We must educate ourselves to study changes and to meet these changes.” Americans must begin to “know each other’s problems.” ER was told by a miner at the school that he had not only learned skills to earn more money, but ways to “lead a more satisfying life.” That, ER insisted, was what all education must be about. She worked to see such schools emerge throughout the country, as part of WPA.
During the evening of 21 May, ER was informed that Jane Addams had died. She told reporters: “I’m dreadfully sorry, America has lost a great source of inspiration.” The day before, she had heard of Addams’s emergency cancer surgery and sent her a telegram: “Deeply distressed to hear of your illness. Good luck and best wishes to you.” Her friends were unprepared for her sudden death, despite her long illness. Jane Addams told philanthropist Louise deKoven Bowen as they prepared to leave for the hospital: “I’m not afraid to die; I know I’ll go on living, and I want to know what it’s going to be like.”
Eleanor Roosevelt Page 38