I DARE SAY —
He’s come a long way
By Florence Fisher Parry
Mr. Franklin D. Roosevelt has come a long way since he was elected President of the United States 11 years ago on a platform of strict economy and balancing the budget.
As I listened to him give his State of the Union charge to the 78th Congress, it seemed impossible that I was listening to the same man whose voice I had heard for the first time as the Democratic Convention met to nominate its candidate for President, and a silver-voiced supporter rose to acclaim Al Smith as the Happy Warrior.
Could this strong and tolerant and resolute voice be the same that lashed sardonically at our Supreme Court, advocated and attempted revamping and packing it, encouraged bureaucracy, and surrounded himself with Redford Tugwells and created a government of the New Deal, for New Deal and by the New Deal?
Could this be the bitter campaigner of 1940? Surely not; not this reasonable statesman whose every word was charged with harmony, reassurance and a strong new confidence.
Once to every man
Truly, men rise with the circumstance. The measure of a man cannot be accurately taken unless he is challenged to match his stature with crucial times. It is conceivable that, destined to spend his Presidency in a bickering peacetime administration, Mr. Roosevelt might have relapsed into a cynical defeatist, soured by opposition and embittered by criticism.
But slowly, one by one, the lesser traits gave ground to the great urgency of fateful times.
None but his stubbornest enemies could deny or begrudge him the conquest he made over the listening people of the world, when he addressed the 78th Congress: the most impressive, reasonable and charitable speech of his career.
There was no rancor; no sarcasm; no recrimination. A sweet temper pervaded his address. Only when he spoke of our enemy did his voice carry the old-time edge of sarcasm which used to be directed with patent relish at his home front critics. All his malice seemed to be concentrated into a capsule of revenge reserved only and wholly for the common foe.
To evaluate fairly the achievement of President Roosevelt, one must weigh it against the American landscape of 1930, when he first loomed as a possible candidate for the presidency.
It was the year, you remember when we were reeling under a blow too stunning to realize, and we were still going through the motions to which a long era of prosperity had conditioned us… The era which ended in that historic year, that tragic year 1929. The end of a pipedream. The end of our fond illusion that there weas such a thing in this imperfect world as security and trust.
Remember?
Remember 1929?
The incredible era
Remember the big boards of Wall Street? When a 10-point gain a day was the normal rise in stocks, when Montgomery Ward rose from 200 to 400, when 5-million-share-days were the order of the day? The Federal Reserve Board may have felt the beginnings of uneasiness; the farm belt banks, closing right and left because of farm foreclosures, may have been apprehensive; but the country was on a prosperity binge and nothing could stop the celebration!
Coolidge had put the seal of quiet assurance upon the American future:
The country can regard the present with satisfaction and anticipate the future with optimism.
Government was keeping its nose out of business. Andrew Mellon was being called “the greatest Secretary of the Treasury since Alexander Hamilton.”
The Prince of Wales and Charles Lindbergh were the most popular young men of the day. Al Capone was taking in millions of dollars from his various gangster rackets and Prohibition was riding drunkenly in a slipping saddle.
Our relations with Japan were considered ideal. The Washington Naval Conference had settled for all time the disturbed conditions in the Pacific. We had 10 light cruisers, most of them overaged, and eight under construction, so we felt justly safe. We laughed in our sleeves at David Lloyd George, even then considered a little dotey, for saying:
As things are now the nations of the world are heading straight for war – not because anyone wants it, but because no one has the courage to stop the runaway horses.
Just about that time, Franklin D. Roosevelt rode into office on an economy platform. He would balance the budget. He would inaugurate a New Deal. The public debt was $17 billion. But he would fix all that. He would oust the money changers from the temple. He would institute new uses for leisure, of which there was to be an abundance.
He has come a long way since then. A long way. It has chastened him. His latest address stands as evidence of that.