On February 2, 1932, speaking to the New York State Grange, he established policy positions guaranteed to please the nation’s isolationist mood. Asserting that the League of Nations had failed to live up to the vision of Woodrow Wilson, he rejected American membership in it. Criticizing the efforts of President Hoover to postpone or scale down the massive war debts owed to the United States, he declared, “Europe owes us. We do not owe her.” Both stances revealed a heavy streak of cold political realism. His shift on the League simply recognized the reality that it had become a debating society, without admitting that Wilson’s vision had been flawed. Still, the statement dismayed many progressive Democrats who remained devoted to Wilson’s legacy. One of the most ardent was Eleanor, who would not speak to her husband for several days. His position on the war debts, which imposed an enormous burden on the international economy and had contributed mightily to the worldwide economic slump, pandered blatantly to popular sentiment. On this issue, Hoover was far more clear-eyed and courageous.25
Tactically, the Grange speech removed a distraction. It also got rid of an impediment to support from an important but heretofore unlikely source: Roosevelt’s old nemesis, the fiercely isolationist publisher William Randolph Hearst. Before the Grange speech, Hearst’s publications criticized Roosevelt bitterly; after it, the comments softened and paved the way for a détente.26
Three important addresses at the height of the nominating season established Roosevelt’s tone toward the collapsing economy. The first, on April 7, 1932, was a ten-minute coast-to-coast radio talk. President Hoover, Roosevelt conceded, had substantially increased spending on public works, but the government could not raise the money to provide indefinite employment for the 7 to 10 million jobless. The administration’s recent creation of a Reconstruction Finance Corporation with a $2 billion fund to support large banks, railroads, and corporations would do nothing to help farmers and urban homeowners facing mortgage foreclosure. The rural and small-town economy had to be revived through the restoration of farm prices. The Republican Smoot-Hawley tariff had to give way to a plan to “revise our tariff on the basis of a reciprocal exchange of goods.” “These unhappy times,” Roosevelt declared, “call for the building of plans that put their faith once more in the forgotten man at the bottom of the economic pyramid.” Recalling his own service in 1917 and 1918, he said, “It is high time to admit with courage that we are in the midst of an emergency at least equal to that of war. Let us mobilize to meet it.” Forever remembered as “the forgotten man speech,” the talk delighted Democratic radicals and horrified conservatives.27
To the surprise of many, Al Smith joined the latter camp. Speaking to a Jefferson Day dinner in Washington on April 13, he declared he would “take his coat off” and fight any candidate who “persists in a demagogic appeal to the working classes.” Smith’s declaration excited northeastern conservative Democrats, but conservative southerners, rooted in an environment steeped in anti-Catholicism and Prohibition, could never embrace him. Democratic progressives, who had once favored him, were more drawn to Roosevelt than ever.28
The governor followed up the forgotten-man talk with his one campaign trip of the primary season. On April 18, he keynoted a Jefferson Day observance in St. Paul, just days after he had swept the Wisconsin presidential primary. Minnesota and Wisconsin were centers of midwestern radicalism with independent left-wing parties he hoped to attract to the Democratic side. His St. Paul speech reprised his interpretation of Thomas Jefferson as a large-visioned apostle of American democracy who would have favored “economic planning, not for this period alone but for our needs for a long time to come.” Presenting itself as “an agency of national unity,” the Democratic Party needed to labor for “a widespread concert of thought, capable of concert of action, based on a fair and just concert of interests.”29
Editorialists across the country characterized the talk as platitudinous. Ordinary people did not seem to care. At one stop after another on his way home, waiting crowds cheered him as the likely next president. In Chicago, he met with party leaders to appeal for Illinois’s large bloc of votes at the Democratic convention. Over the next two weeks, however, Al Smith’s supporters would show that the enthusiasm was premature as they won solid victories in Pennsylvania, Massachusetts, and Connecticut.30
During his usual long vacation at Warm Springs, Roosevelt delivered his last major pronouncement of the primary campaign, a commencement address on May 22 at Oglethorpe College in Atlanta. Some of the newsmen who covered him had twitted him about the perceived blandness of the St. Paul speech. He had challenged them to write something better. Ernest Lindley accepted, and Roosevelt liked the result. It appealed to his instinct for activism and provided more widely quotable phrases.
The Oglethorpe speech surveyed at some length the devastation of the economy, criticized speculative greed, rejected the idea that capitalism was inherently unstable, and boldly asserted the need for government planning to provide a steady income and a fair share of purchasing power for the average citizen. Most memorably, it made a virtue of its lack of specificity:
The country needs and, unless I mistake its temper, the country demands bold, persistent experimentation. It is common sense to take a method and try it: If it fails, admit it frankly and try another. But above all, try something. The millions who are in want will not stand by silently forever. . . .
We need enthusiasm, imagination and the ability to face facts, even unpleasant ones, bravely. We need to correct, by drastic means if necessary, the faults in our economic system. . . . We need the courage of the young.31
Through the spring, state primaries and party conventions gave Roosevelt a clear majority of votes for the presidential nomination. On April 30, however, Jim Farley conceded that, as Al Smith had in 1928, Roosevelt would fall short of the needed two-thirds on the initial roll call. But as in 1928, he predicted, favorite sons would then shift to the front-runner before the convention chairman declared the count final, thereby providing a first-ballot victory. This seemed a reasonable estimate until, one week later, John Nance Garner, with the support of William Randolph Hearst and the acquiescence of William Gibbs McAdoo, defeated the Roosevelt slate in the California primary.32
Eighteen states had yet to hold their primaries or conventions. Farley accurately predicted that fifteen would go to Roosevelt, but all were small to medium in size. Garner, on the other hand, had the forty-four votes of California and the forty-six votes of Texas. Smith would go to the convention with the votes of Massachusetts, Connecticut, Rhode Island, and New Jersey pledged or instructed to him and with large blocs from split delegations in New York and Pennsylvania. The main purpose of favorite-son candidacies in Illinois and Ohio, where big-city organizations were based on largely Catholic immigrant constituencies, was to avoid a choice between the two New Yorkers. Of the ten largest states in terms of votes at the convention, Roosevelt could count on only a unit vote from Michigan, about half of Indiana and Pennsylvania, perhaps a third of New York, and a quarter of Illinois. The “stop Roosevelt” movement seemed to have a fair shot at success.33
Roosevelt’s precarious situation made seizing control of the convention by electing a friendly permanent chairman imperative. He backed Senator Thomas J. Walsh of Montana, an esteemed progressive, a reliable supporter, and a Catholic. Because Farley’s public prediction of a wave of vote changes at the end of the first ballot now seemed less likely, the Roosevelt camp began to plan a controversial rule change: a motion to abandon the two-thirds rule in favor of a simple majority for nomination. Both moves were dangerous, exposing their candidate to an early reversal on procedural matters rather than on his merits.
Jim Farley, Ed Flynn, and Louis Howe led the Roosevelt team in Chicago when the convention opened on Monday, June 27, in the Chicago Stadium. They hoped to steamroll the gathering but were soon relieved of their illusions. Numerous interests within the party, the South especially, cherished the le
verage that a supermajority rule gave them. With near certain defeat in the offing, Roosevelt sent a message asking his backers to withdraw the proposal for nomination by a simple majority. A subsequent floating of a rule for a simple majority after six nominating ballots drew few converts. It was as if the convention were a gathering of amnesiacs with no memory of 1924.34
The backdown was embarrassing but not disastrous. On Tuesday, Senator Walsh defeated Jouett Shouse for the post of permanent chairman by a 626–528 vote. The tally confirmed Roosevelt’s majority but also showed him well short of the 769.3 votes needed for nomination.35
The next contentious item of business was the party platform on Prohibition, an issue that sharply divided Roosevelt’s supporters. He staked out a position they could swallow: repeal of the amendment accompanied by a provision for state and local control of intoxicating beverages. The democratic localism resonated with the party’s Jeffersonian outlook and was a natural compromise.
By mid-1932, the Depression had hit Chicago hard. Bread lines could be found within blocks of the convention. Banks were failing daily. The city could not pay schoolteachers. Inside the stadium, however, demon rum moved the delegates. The galleries, which Mayor Anton Cermak’s machine had packed with Smith supporters, nearly booed Cordell Hull off the platform when he advocated a go-slow approach to repeal. In a nearly unprecedented move by a declared candidate, Al Smith, who was a New York delegate, came to the stage to deliver a sharp retort. The crowd roared its approval. “The Sidewalks of New York” blared from the sound system. A stampede was in the offing, but it was for repeal, not for Al. The Roosevelt managers made no attempt to instruct their delegates. Smith’s short, clear plank for simple repeal was the wish of the majority; Roosevelt embraced it.36
The repeal plank aside, the rest of the platform was brief. It was also self-contradictory, promising on the one hand a balanced budget and on the other increased public works programs, aid to farmers, and a lower tariff.37
Farley and Flynn did what they could to hold wavering delegates in line and round up new ones. They reported to Howe, who never left his suite in the Congress Hotel, followed the convention on the radio, and kept in touch with his chief in Albany. Several years later, Farley vividly recalled the scene: “Louis was lying on the floor in his shirt sleeves, his shirt open at the throat, and his head resting on a pillow. He had two electric fans blowing on him to bring relief from the oppressive heat.” Appearing almost at death’s door, he seemed determined to live only for “Franklin.”38
On Thursday, June 30, a day behind schedule, the nominating speeches, nine altogether, finally began. The three serious candidates were Roosevelt, Smith, and Garner. Finally, in the wee hours of Friday morning, the Roosevelt forces, still convinced they had momentum, pressed for an immediate ballot. At 4:28 a.m., the first roll call began.
The state-by-state voting proceeded slowly, interrupted by polling to verify the counts of several delegations, including the big one from New York, where Roosevelt managed only 28.5 of the state’s 94 votes. Farley remembered the delegates themselves as “wan and weary, petulant and ill-humored,” some sound asleep, others in advanced states of exhaustion. He was still confident that Roosevelt would emerge with so large a lead that the favorite sons would switch to him.
The tally, finally announced two hours later, showed Roosevelt with 666.25, Smith with 201.75, Garner with 90.25, and the remainder scattered among favorite sons and dark horses. Roosevelt was 103 votes short of two-thirds but far ahead of his nearest rival. No state moved to change its votes.
The second ballot followed immediately. Farley now authorized a few votes from delegates he had told to abstain from the first ballot. The result was even more overwhelming: Roosevelt, 677.75; Smith, 194.25; Garner, 90.25.
Still no break.
Farley desperately searched for more votes. On the third ballot, he managed to net only five more. Roosevelt remained eighty-seven shy of victory with no more support in sight. At 9:15 a.m., everyone in the arena had had enough. The convention adjourned until the evening.
Was there a viable alternative in the shadows? Smith had established himself as a spoiler, seemed interested only in the divisive cultural politics of Prohibition, remained unpopular outside metropolitan America, and was no longer the progressives’ hero. Garner, much esteemed in Washington, was a provincial politician unlikely to resonate with most of the country and not perceptibly different from Hoover in his social outlook. Newton D. Baker was a real-life possibility.
A widely respected keeper of the Wilsonian flame, Baker could satisfy all wings of the party. Fervent supporters, among them a young utility executive named Wendell Willkie, had come out of the shadows to work the delegates personally. Thousands of telegrams supplemented their efforts. Eighty noted internationalists, headed by Walter Lippmann, circulated a petition endorsing him. Maryland’s favorite-son candidate, Governor Albert Ritchie, was prepared to withdraw in his favor. Yet Baker’s approach to the Depression was hard to discern from Hoover’s. His highest elective office had been as mayor of Cleveland, seventeen years in the past, and he was known to have at least a mild heart condition.39
From Roosevelt’s perspective, the situation was grave. Mississippi was ready to break for Baker. North Carolina was restive. Farley and Howe in Chicago and Roosevelt in Albany all realized that it was time for a deal with Garner, McAdoo, and William Randolph Hearst.
At the convention, Farley approached Texas congressman Sam Rayburn. In Boston, Joseph P. Kennedy and Mayor James Michael Curley made phone calls to Hearst, who saw Roosevelt as a lesser evil than Baker. The Texas delegation was willing to swallow Roosevelt if Garner would be his running mate. Garner, a political pro and consummate realist, would not assume responsibility for a stalemate and possible general election loss. Despite emotional resistance from some die-hard Texans, the deal was done.
The convention reassembled at 9:00 p.m. At the beginning of the fourth ballot, Alabama, Arizona, and Arkansas all, as on the earlier ballots, voted for Roosevelt. It was California’s turn. McAdoo strode to the podium, jeered by the Smith supporters in the galleries, until Mayor Cermak finally quieted them. McAdoo was blunt: “California came here to nominate a President of the United States. She did not come here to deadlock this convention. . . . California casts forty-four votes for Franklin D. Roosevelt!” The balloting rolled on with one favorite son after another falling in line. Only Smith refused to release his delegates. The final tally: Roosevelt 945, Smith 109.5, others 13. The organist struck up the victor’s campaign song, “Happy Days Are Here Again!”
After the Roosevelt demonstration subsided, one party leader after another urged unity and support for the candidate. Chairman Walsh then made a dramatic announcement. Governor Roosevelt, breaking with previous practice, would fly to Chicago to accept the nomination in person. The delegates, now mostly cheering and optimistic, felt that their party had reached a dramatic turning point.
At 7:30 a.m. on Saturday, July 2, Roosevelt boarded a Ford Trimotor, the best passenger aircraft of the day, but light, painfully slow by later standards, and incapable of flying at altitudes that would put it above bad weather. Eleanor, Anna, James, Elliott, and John were with him; so were his secretaries—Missy LeHand, Grace Tully, and Guernsey Cross—along with his personal bodyguard, a burly New York police detective named Gus Gennerich, and Eleanor’s protector, Earl Miller.
The trip was a thoroughly unpleasant experience. Strong prevailing headwinds buffeted the aircraft all the way to Chicago. The nation followed its progress through radio reports of it landing for refueling in Buffalo and Cleveland. Roosevelt had never flown before; he would not do so again for another ten years. Finally, at 4:30 p.m., two hours behind schedule, the Trimotor touched down at Chicago airport.
Roosevelt transferred to a waiting motorcade that took him to his suite at the Congress hotel. After a brief time there, he was driven to the convention through st
reets lined with curious and hopeful spectators. Louis Howe was at his side, basking in the latest triumph of their long association. To his surprise, Howe gave him a draft acceptance speech, even though he knew that Roosevelt, Moley, and Rosenman had prepared one in Albany. “Dammit, Louie, I’m the nominee!” he said, but he took the manuscript and glanced through it while waving to the crowds. By the time they reached the stadium, he had decided that he could not disappoint the wizened little man who had served him so faithfully for two decades. He would begin with Howe’s first page, then switch to the Albany text.40
By the time Roosevelt arrived, the convention had nominated Garner for vice president by acclamation, passed numerous resolutions of gratitude and appreciation, and endured impromptu entertainment from local singers. Seated near the rostrum, the governor received formal notification of his nomination from Chairman Walsh, then listened to a recitation of the party platform, delivered by its primary drafter and his old colleague from the Wilson administration, A. Mitchell Palmer. At last, he rose to take the few steps to the rostrum, his left hand gripping James’s right arm just as it had at Madison Square Garden eight years earlier. Delegates and spectators stood also, applauding, cheering, and producing what journalist Arthur Krock called the illusion of a great surge upward.41
Roosevelt moved quickly to the serious and the partisan. His journey to the convention, he said, was “unprecedented and unusual,” but so were the times. “Let it be from now on the task of our party to break foolish traditions.” The Republicans were the party of broken promises, economic mismanagement, and concern only for the privileged few; the true progressives among them should join with him in a common cause. The “nominal Democrats” who looked backward had to get into step with the progressive majority. “Ours must be a party of liberal thought, of planned action, of enlightened international outlook, and of the greatest good to the greatest number of citizens.”
Man of Destiny: FDR and the Making of the American Century Page 21