Eleanor Roosevelt – My Day (June 1941)

eleanor

MY DAY

By Eleanor Roosevelt

June 2, 1941

Hyde Park, Sunday –
Yesterday, I had my first swim in our outdoor pool, and I must say the first plunge was extremely cold. Only the knowledge that my brother and a small boy enjoyed it, kept me in long enough to enjoy it also.

Our son, John, and I rode for an hour in the afternoon. We reached my husband’s cottage upon the hill where we found him enjoying peace and quiet, which we disturbed for a few minutes. He has been going through the telegrams and letters which have been coming in the past few days, and it is a most gigantic task.

The woods are still pleasant to ride in, but what will happen in the course of the next week or so, I do not know, for already the bugs are fairly active. The horses can have protection for their heads by wearing large hoods, but their riders will have to take to the fields before long.

We heard last night from Franklin Jr. that he thought he could fly over this morning from Boston, and since I knew the way to the New Hackensack, New York airport, I agreed to meet him. I rose early to do so, and found it raining this morning. Just before I started out, he called me to say he might be able to go by air to Hartford, Conn., but no further, so would I send someone to meet him there.

I started off myself for Hartford. I am not as rapid a driver on wet roads as I should be. Perhaps I could never have accomplished what Franklin Jr. thought would be my driving time. In any case, it took me nearly three hours and I had to telephone home to ask my luncheon guests to wait. In the meantime, Franklin Jr. only reached Springfield by air and drove to Hartford from there.

We did reach home about 2:45 and everyone was very hungry. I I felt very apologetic to the three people who had motored up from New York City to discuss various things with me, and then found me gadding around the country after my young Naval Reserve officer. However, Franklin Jr. has to go back tonight and he may not be home again for a long time, so my apologies were sweetly accepted by everyone. I did enjoy my guests and was most grateful to them for taking the long drive up here.

These visits to Hyde Park are a thrilling adventure to the President’s little dog “Fala.” In the first place, he finds it great fun to play with Franklin Jr. and Ethel’s little boy, Franklin III. Then the two big dogs; the red setter “Shawn” and the great Dane “Sandy” simply fascinate him. He spends his time trying to attract their attention. Their reaction is great boredom, but this never seems to discourage him.


June 3, 1941

Burlington, Vt., Monday –
We left Hyde Park early this morning to drive up to Burlington, Vermont, where I am attending a tea at the University of Vermont, and then giving a lecture in the evening for the Women’s Auxiliary of the Mary Fletcher Hospital. This column is filed on the way, so I can tell you little of the trip until tomorrow.

I am very much pleased, because it looks as though we are going to have a new receiving home for children in Washington, DC. During the past few months, it has been possible to place children who are not delinquent in foster homes instead of the receiving home. This seems to me a great step forward.

At the other end of the welfare picture, where the old people are concerned, they tell me that certain very definite improvements have been made out at “Blue Plains.” The young doctor in charge there has been able to hospitalize some of his worst cases at Gallinger Hospital and to improve the care of those who are bedridden in the home. The food, I am told, is much better and it is served hot.

This is an advance and yet I hope very much that eventually the four institutions – The National Training School for Girls, The Industrial Training School, The Home for the Aged and one other industrial school – will all have new buildings. They may then be housed in a more suitable place where they can be separate, and yet so planned as to make a saving in management costs possible.

The Congressional committees, who made these investigations into these institutions last year, have made these improvements possible on the recommendation of the District of Columbia officials. It must be a great gratification for them all to know that they have brought so much comfort and happiness to the old, and so much more hope to the unfortunate youngsters, who have had to face some difficult situations in the way they had to be cared for in the past.

I wish very much that all the institutions for young people could be thought of primarily from the point of view of rehabilitation. Rehabilitation of bodies which have been insufficiently fed, of minds which have not been able to develop properly under the conditions which they have faced and, finally, the rehabilitation of emotional natures that have known too little security and love to make normal growth possible.


June 4, 1941

Saratoga Springs, NY, Tuesday –
As I told you yesterday, we motored to Burlington, Vermont, coming by way of Rutland. It was a most beautiful day and, when we reached Vermont, I was overjoyed to see lilacs and lilies of the valley in bloom, which I had missed at home again this year. It took us less time than I had anticipated, and we had a very leisurely lunch at the Terrace Inn, Brandon, Vermont.

The world is a small one, for the woman who runs the inn told me that her daughter had been in Chautauqua, NY, when I went there for the late Mrs. Pennybacker years ago. She had acted as a page at a large reception.

We had a delightful luncheon of waffles and little sausages and maple syrup, not entirely the lunch for two women who desire to grow thinner, but we could not resist maple syrup in Vermont.

We arrived at Burlington, and found our very kind hostess, Mrs. F. V. Burgess, somewhat harassed by numerous phone calls. She told us of the various plans and I began by seeing two young women reporters. At 4:00, I went to the University of Vermont at the invitation of the Dean of Women, Miss Mary Jean Simpson, and met the girls belonging to the honor societies and some of their faculty advisers. We had a very pleasant hour and I returned in time to receive Colonel Wood from Fort Ethan Allen, who had come to pay his respects.

We stayed at a fascinating house with a suspended circular staircase, which was most interesting. I admired a lovely needlepoint rug as we went into dinner, and discovered that our hostess had made it.

Today promises to be another beautiful day. We are homeward bound over the same route, stopping in at Saratoga, NY, for a short time.

I have just received a most interesting translation, made by a friend from the old French. It is a prophecy written in medieval times by St. Odile. It begins:

Listen, listen, oh my brothers, for I have seen the terrors of forest and mountains. The unbelievable has frozen the people. The time has come when Germany will be considered the most belligerent nation of the world.

It continues to describe the periods, first, second and third, of a great war in which twenty nations are involved and, in the end, it says:

All the plundered nations will recover what they have lost and more … for the men will have seen such abominations in this war that their generations will want no more of this forever … for on that day the frightened men will truly adore God, and the sun will shine with unaccustomed brilliance.

Curious, isn’t it?


June 5, 1941

Hyde Park, Wednesday –
The gentle rain is falling upon us again and is greeted with joy by everyone, for it is just the right kind of rain to benefit crops and gardens.

Our drive yesterday was very pleasant and we stopped in Saratoga, NY, long enough to assist at the christening of a very sweet baby girl. She never cried at all when the water was poured over her head, which I am sure means that someday she is going to give her father and mother, Mr. and Mrs. Al William Kresse, a very hectic time. You see, I was brought up on the old superstition that babies must cry the “devil” out of them at their christening, and if they don’t it will surely come out later on!

We spent the night with a friend and have now arrived home to face the usual mountains of mail which greet one after two days without any contact with the postman.

I found a rather sad letter from an old friend of the President’s, who has always been very fond of the sea. Like many other people, this friend adopted an orphan during the last world war. But I think he must have taken it more seriously than the rest of us, for he has kept in touch with him and really helped him and known him well.

The other day, the Daily Mail, in London, carried the story of this boy, now grown to manhood and following the sea, meeting his death, as have so many other gallant English officers, on his ship the HMS Patria. He was a first lieutenant and, when someone had to go below to free a hundred or more men who were trapped, instead of ordering a junior officer to do the job, he went himself and was never seen again, but nearly all the men on board were saved.

The story in itself will be one more tradition told on British ships on the seven seas to educate the young. It is the quotation in a letter from his wife to my husband’s old friend which I want to give you. She writes:

I am convinced that when he met this last trial, he maintained that quiet confidence, that unbreakable courage, and that smile of his that indicated peace of mind and soul. Danger at sea, he had always met without flinching, and this is as we must remember him. For my part, I am proud to have been his wife, even if for only eight years, and if his sons (there are two, five and two years old) grow up as straight and as fine and clean as daddy, I shall be satisfied.

This is a courageous attitude to take, but it must be hard to attain such fortitude of soul. If that is the spirit, however, in which the British face all defeats and still keep such high courage, then we may be sure that in the end, right must triumph over might. If our own courage and determination can be at the same level, perhaps, before long, might will be on the side of right.


June 6, 1941

Hyde Park, Thursday –
We are having our second day of steady rain. It is the kind of June weather when a fire on the hearth is pleasant. Yesterday I discovered that last year’s robins, or their progeny, have returned, not to the same bathroom window, but to the one next to it. Two blue eggs lie in the nest, from which the mother flies away whenever she hears a noise. I really wonder whether they are wet and miserable when the rain beats upon the window and all the protection they have is the ivy vine which grows thick around them.

I am going to New York City today to do some shopping. I imagine that it will not be as pleasant as trotting around the house or finishing things up at my desk would be. Work accomplished gives me such a sense of virtue. I wrote last night, but the quiet of the house, broken only by the crackling of the burning logs, seems to make the hours slip away unnoticed. It is only on waking the next morning that I realize that perhaps I sat up a bit too late.

The news that Chief Justice Hughes is retiring on July 1 comes as a shock. He always seemed to be such a vigorous person that I do not associate him with any particular age. It must be a great satisfaction, however, to reach the point where you feel you can lay aside your work and do only the things you want to do the rest of your life.

To be able to look back, as Justice Hughes can, on a successful personal career, a good name achieved professionally, a happy home in which children have grown to maturity and started out on their own lives with a satisfactory background, a public life which has brought posts of honor as recognition of his high ability and integrity, all this must give the Chief Justice happiness. His countrymen will rejoice with him and do him honor, both in the present and the future.

I cannot close these few words about him without saying how much I have always admired Mrs. Hughes. It seems to me, she has contributed greatly to the success of his career and that some honor and affection from her countrymen are due her as well.

I saw the other day that Ernie Pyle, the newspaper columnist, is taking a month’s holiday. I want to tell him that, while I do not begrudge him a well earned vacation, I shall miss him very much. This is to say, I shall miss his column, for that daily stint of his seems to be very much Ernie Pyle himself. I have come to feel that I know him and to wish that someday, on his vacation, perhaps, he might drop in and sit before my fire.

Yesterday, Mr. Carey Wilson, of Hollywood, Calif., did just this for a short time. I enjoyed it so much that I was both surprised and regretful when the hour came for him to leave.


June 7, 1941

Hyde Park, Friday –
It rained all day yesterday in New York City, but I managed to do a number of errands and was able to leave for Hyde Park this morning at quarter of 9:00. I drove up very comfortably since there was comparatively little traffic coming out of the city. As I looked at the winding lane of traffic on the other side, I was rather glad that I was not going south or coming into the city to go to work.

The sun is shining again and everything looks beautiful. Two days of rain does give the countryside a grand washing, and everything in our little vegetable garden seems to have grown visibly.

We have only two hours here because, at 1:00, we must leave for Catskill, NY, where I am to dedicate a camp which the public schools are inaugurating for the benefit of their pupils this summer. Then we shall drive straight to New York City, for I must be at the meeting of the Mother’s Health Association of the Lower East Side at Cooper Union at 8:00. Then I take a midnight plane for Chicago, on my way to St. Paul, Minn., and Miss Thompson goes back to Washington. This flying trip was an added reason why I was glad to see the sun come out this morning.

When I agreed to go to the regional conference of the Women’s Division of the Democratic National Committee, I stipulated that they must take the risk of bad flying weather, for I could only do it if I could fly. Nevertheless, I always have a guilty feeling. If I had not been able to get there, I am sure they would have been much annoyed with me and I would have been deeply distressed.

Several days ago I noticed the report in the papers of the death of a woman I have know for a long while. Miss Julia K. Jaffray was associated with the National Committee on Prisons and Prison Labor for 33 years. She came to the United States from Galt, Canada, as stenographer to Miss Helen Varick Boswell, who was secretary of that committee. Miss Jaffray, herself, served as secretary for 25 years. This Canadian woman became a leader and wielded great influence in many women’s groups in our country.

She organized the club women and worked with labor and manufacturers in a campaign for the abolition of a system of contract labor in prisons, and helped to develop the Federal Institution for Women at Alderson, West Virginia. Miss Jaffray’s interests were varied, but her accomplishments in prison work have always been outstanding. I think her name will be long remembered in many women’s groups and will serve to cement the friendship between the women of Canada and the United States.


June 9, 1941

Chicago, Sunday –
I landed from a plane in Minneapolis, Minn., on Saturday morning and was greeted by the press photographers and Miss Hickok. Then we proceeded at once to St. Paul. Fortunately, I was in time to attend the Democratic Women’s luncheon.

I had had some very nice letters from children in a hospital in Minneapolis, begging me to come to see them. Unfortunately, there were so many other things I had been asked to do, that I had to decide to do nothing at all, in order to have a little rest before preparing to speak in the evening.

I find that a whole night of travelling is not conducive to doing really well in a speech, if I have no rest beforehand. I was particularly sorry not to see the WPA nutrition projects, for these are among the most interesting things being done along this line in this country.

Some old friends came to see me in the late afternoon. After the evening meeting, where I spoke, I fell into bed, because we had to be back at the airport this morning at 8:00 to catch our plane back to Chicago, and from there to New York City and Washington. I was glad to have a friend with me on the return trip, though I always have so many things to read tucked away in my briefcase time never hangs very heavily on my hands, no matter how much I am alone.

The meeting last night was nonpartisan, even though it was held as part of the regional conference program. I am deeply appreciative of the hospitality which was extended not only by the democratic women, but by everyone we met.

When I told my mother-in-law I was coming out here, she, who thinks primarily about the family, reminded me that there are cousins here, the Ames, who have been a force and influence in the community for many years. She hoped I would surely manage somehow to see them. Then she thought of a young great-niece who is married to a newspaperman out here, and who may shortly go to Seattle, Wash., and expressed the hope that I would see her also.

Politics, when it comes to the family, means very little to my mother-in-law. She sees no reason whatsoever why all the cousins did not flock to see me, even if I was attending a Democratic Party meeting.

I shall return to Washington this evening at about the same time the President will from a short cruise on the river, if he is able to go. Nowadays, every plan he makes carries the proviso that the news of the moment may cause a change.


June 10, 1941

Washington, Monday –
I arrived in Washington last evening about 7:30, to find that the President was able to stay on the Potomac until this morning. I spent the evening straightening out the various things which had accumulated on my desk. Today is comparatively free. Breakfast on the porch was really delightful and leisurely.

I was interested to see that Miss Gizelle Shaw of Buenos Aires, speaking to the Eastern Regional Conference of the National Woman’s Party, remarked that South America was not flattered to have Mr. Douglas Fairbanks Jr. as an envoy from this country.

I think Miss Shaw must have made this statement under a misapprehension, for Mr. Fairbanks went only as an ambassador of goodwill to study the particular subject of the movie industry as it affects our relationship with our South American neighbors. He is extremely well fitted to make this study and, on returning, to put his findings before his own industry.

Miss Shaw makes the suggestion that South America would have been more flattered had we sent a scientist or an educator. I think again, she perhaps does not quite know the scope of the program being carried out under the Department of State and Mr. Nelson Rockefeller.

In some cases one wonders if, perhaps, too many people in different fields of endeavor are not flooding the South American countries today in their search for knowledge and their desire to bring a better understanding to this country of our neighbors to the south.

I was particularly impressed in St. Paul, Minn., by the panel on hemisphere defense conducted under Miss Josephine Schain’s leadership. Madame Graciela Mandujano, whom the Business and Professional Women’s clubs are sponsoring on a lecture trip in the United States, did a magnificent job, both as a member of the panel and as a speaker at the luncheon. Her approach was so charming and simple that everyone was interested in her presentation of rural conditions in Chile, and I was really thrilled to see the interest of the women in St. Paul in all she had to tell them.

We have some young guests in the house, for three of the Hopkins children are here just now. It is nice to know that the weather is not going to make life out of doors impossible for them.

Yesterday I finished a little book of stories about “Mr. Chips.” that Mr. James Hilton gave me. He is the hero of the book published in this country called Goodbye, Mr. Chips by James Hilton. This book I just read has never been published here, but I think it should be, for there are many things in Mr. Chips’ philosophy which would be of value, not only to schoolmasters, but to us all. One quotation we can remember with profit:

One of the lovely joys of growing old was to add to this list of trivial things one didn’t care about, so one had more time to care about the things that are not trivial.


June 11, 1941

Washington, Tuesday –
I have been requested to answer the following questions in my column. They are evidently based on an article I wrote for the May issue of the Ladies’ Home Journal.

How do you visualize the organization and registration of the service of girls on a compulsory basis?

I see it done exactly as done for young men, perhaps with certain modifications.

What would be the relation of this plan to women already employed, especially in industry?

It would have no relation whatsoever, because I visualize it only as a continuation of practical training for one year. This will benefit the community and, at the same time, be of value to young women in their future lives.

What ages would be included?

I surmise the ages would be from the end of high school, if girls were going no further; to the end of college training, if they had planned on taking a college course. I suppose it would be between the ages of 18 to 24.

How would existing organizations be used?

They would be used to give opportunities for training.

Why do you feel compulsory service necessary?

Only because it is obvious that the better the training is people have today, the better are the opportunities they have in life. This training should develop a broader knowledge of the whole community and should, therefore, be entered into by all girls in the community, physically able to participate and not exempted for special reasons, such as preparation in specialized fields of work.

Is this plan an integral part of military defense?

It has nothing whatsoever to do with military defense, but it is an important part of civilian defense. I believe raising the standard of living has a good effect on our civilian defense.

I should like to point out that this plan has no official backing and has not been considered by anyone in the government. It was suggested by me purely to bring about discussion, so that there would be a wider appreciation of the situation of young people, especially girls, in all the communities in our country. It should also bring about a consideration of what would be wise procedures for the benefit of individuals and community life.

I am very glad that I have achieved so much interest on the part of different groups, even those such as the American Youth Congress and certain political groups which are violently opposed to the word “compulsory.”

I think we should ponder this statement a very eminent man, Dr. Edmund Ezra Day, President of Cornell University, made the other day:

It is high time for America to face squarely the problems of individual and social discipline in a democracy.


June 12, 1941

Washington, Wednesday –
Yesterday afternoon, a delegation of Navajo Indians came to see me. They brought me a very beautifully woven small rug. It evidently has much symbolic meaning, but since the woman who wove it could not speak English, it was a little difficult for me to understand the full meaning of the pattern.

This group lives on the reservation which covers a more or less desert area in northern Arizona, New Mexico and southern Utah. Their nearest railroad station is Flagstaff, Arizona, some 200 miles away. Their livelihood consists in raising sheep and such minor crops as they can irrigate.

The government experts have decided that they must raise fewer sheep and they see starvation before them. Ten acres of irrigated land is all they can be given. They have no outside market that is within reach, and they have come to Washington to appeal to the Indian Bureau in the Department of the Interior and the Indian Affairs Committee in Congress.

I hope that some solution can be worked out for them, for it was a sad little group, doubly so because they are so bewildered. Not more than fifteen percent of the younger generation learn English, they told me, for while they have schools, they are inadequate. They have a hospital and medical care, but that too is inadequate to cope with their needs.

They are increasing in population and to cut down their food supply seems near starvation. These puzzled and rather helpless real natives of our land, certainly have had a hard time!

Last night, Mr. and Mrs. Armand Denis showed us part of their moving picture taken in Burma. It is beautiful and most exciting. The native method of paddling canoes is not only original but very graceful. The gripping scene, however, is the one where the priestess visits the snake god, the great and dangerous cobra. She calls him out of his cave and goes through the necessary ritual which must be performed if her prayers are to be answered.

We also saw a short film on the Navy called The Battle, which is excellently done. Another film explained the Treasury Defense Bonds and Stamps. The large sale of these last month shows that the people of this country not only want to help the defense effort with their savings, but that they have confidence in the future of America.

A group of people is coming to the White House this afternoon to go on the air and to give their reasons for participation by all the people in the Defense Bond and Stamps drive. It will help now and in the recovery period when peace returns to the world.


June 13, 1941

New York, Thursday –
I attended the graduation exercises yesterday afternoon for Washington’s shut-in pupils. Many of them were either in hospitals or unable to leave their homes, but a good many could be brought to the school. It was wonderful to watch their faces and to see how well they took part in the exercises. They sang and acted and were given badges of merit for effort and proficiency in various lines.

Unfortunately, the appropriation provided last year was not sufficient to reach all the shut-in children of the District. Nearly all large cities consider this educational service part of the public school education, but the District of Columbia has carried on its program under the Public Welfare Board. Next year, it is hoped, it will be placed by Congress under the Board of Education, who have collaborated very closely.

Even though the Commissioners requested only $15,000, so many people have appeared before the Congressional Committee, it is hoped the amount will be increased. At present, these youngsters can have only one hour and a half of schooling a week, and they should have one hour a day, five days a week.

In spite of their physical handicaps, these children, like all others I know in a similar condition, look cheerful and smiling and are deeply appreciative of anything which is done for them.

Later, at the White House, the quartette of the West Virginia ladies, who call themselves the West Virginia Legionnaires, came to tea. After being shown through the White House, they went off to their engagement, leaving Miss Edna Ferber, Mrs. Anne O’Hare McCormick, Mrs. Dorothy Ballanca and Miss Louise Morley to discuss the radio program for Defense Bonds which they were about to put on the air.

As I told you, we went on the air at 6:30, but in between, at 5:30, Mrs. Henry Wallace and I went out on the lawn to greet Mrs. Samuel Rosenman, who stood with us while we received the delegates of the National Emergency Housing Conference. I think Mrs. Rosenman felt that there was very good attendance at the conference this year and that all had gone very well.

A few people came to dinner, among them Commander Flanagan, who is starting off for London before long, and Dr. John Studebaker, who had one or two things he wanted to talk about to me. He had a chance to talk to Miss Louise Morley about the International Student Service School at Campobello this summer and was most enthusiastic.

After dinner, Miss Thompson and I flew to New York City and this morning we were up early. We had to reach the broadcasting station in time for a rehearsal before my 10:00 broadcast.

June 14, 1941

New York, Friday –
I managed to do a few errands yesterday morning before repeating the 10:00 broadcast at 1:15. Miss Thompson, Mrs. Ernest Lindley and I had a pleasant, if somewhat hurried, lunch at the French Restaurant at 49th Street, where at 2:00, General Drum and Miss Fannie Hurst called for me. We ferried over to Governors Island together on the special barge and found Mrs. Drum waiting on the other side. She has been laid up for a long time with an ankle broken in three places, but at last she is able to get about again.

The little booklet, published by the Governors Island Club, was given me. It tells the history of the island and is very interesting. The old forts are purely ornamental today, but the building which McKim, Meade and White designed, is not only dignified and charming, but filled with activity.

I paid a short visit to the hospital. While I doubt if it is ever pleasant to be ill, still I think these officers and men are in very pleasant quarters.

I never saw anything more efficient and orderly than the cafeteria, the kitchen and the supply rooms. I wish my own house could always be so spic and span.

The sergeant in charge seemed to me remarkably able and efficient. When he showed me the field kitchens, each one of which can produce a meal for 50 men, I was lost in admiration. He told me it takes two hours to prepare a meal, though he has produced a satisfactory dinner in 45 minutes, and it can be done with the trucks in motion.

I thought of an old army kitchen, my one real contact with army feeding. The Red Cross used it in the last war to make coffee for trainloads of troops coming through the Washington railroad yards. I still remember our difficulty in keeping it clean. It did not remotely resemble this modern and efficient equipment.

Finally, we watched a parade. They told me most of the men were selectees under young reserve officers. I can only say they did as well as any troops I have ever seen.

After tea with General and Mrs. Drum, I came home to keep an appointment with Dr. John Eliot and then had dinner with Miss Esther Lape. I spent the evening catching up on the mail.

This morning, at Mayor LaGuardia’s request, I looked at some designs for uniforms, which volunteers may wear in the future. I confess to a little confusion in thinking about uniforms before being entirely certain what work is to be done in them, but I suppose simple working clothes can fit all types of work.


June 16, 1941

Hyde Park, Sunday –
After leaving the charming young ladies modeling, the various uniforms for women defense workers on Friday morning, I went up to the International House to attend a conference on voluntary work camps. The morning was spent in hearing from representatives of NYA and CCC about the programs and work done in camps under government supervision.

In the afternoon, the session was opened by a talk by Mr. Kenneth Holland, who went to Europe in the early '30s to evaluate the work being done in these camps in various countries over there. He showed a picture of one of these student work camps in Switzerland, which was extremely interesting.

Afterwards, a number of other people spoke of the value of the voluntary work camp. I think what emerged from the whole day was a realization that this type of camp, where some useful form of work for the community is performed, and where young people of various backgrounds and education meet, work and play together for a stated period, is distinctly educational. Purely academic education cannot achieve the same result.

I was sorry to have to leave a little before 4:00, but I had to go to the dentist and then attend an hours’ meeting of the committee for “The Open Road.” This organization performs for people of the older age group much the same function that the work camp performs for people in the student group. Afterwards, I had a few friends to dine with me and went to see Gertrude Lawrence in Lady In The Dark.

It closed last night for the summer, but I imagine it will reopen in the autumn, for the house was packed and everyone seemed to enjoy it. The music and the lyrics are very catchy. The haunting tune, which runs through the whole play and disturbs the Lady In The Dark so much, will repeat itself in your mind after you have heard it.

Gertrude Lawrence is extremely good in this part. The play itself is entertaining and light enough, so what moral there is, is sugar-coated and only presses itself home in the quiet hours after the play. What a lot of bother she went through just to discover that she had fallen out of love with one man and in love with another.

Yesterday morning we rose early enough to start for the country a few minutes after eight. In spite of gray weather, some twenty-five of us had an imitation picnic on my cottage porch. Then the weather cleared sufficiently for everyone who wanted to swim and play games to do so. We visited the library and found the collections were beginning to take on some semblance of order in preparation for the opening on the first of July.


June 17, 1941

Washington, Monday –
Yesterday was a quiet day. A few friends came to lunch, I had a swim, one or two visitors, and dinner at the big house in the evening with my mother-in-law. She is bewailing the fact that her great-grandson, Franklin III is leaving her today and going up to the house which his mother has taken for the summer at Beverly Farms, Massachusetts.

I noticed an amusing item about this house the other day. Some newspaper said that Franklin Jr. and his wife were going to spend the summer in Beverly and that he would commute to the destroyer to which he is assigned.

It made me chuckle, for he would have to commute to someplace out in the Atlantic Ocean, since the destroyer is now on a twenty day cruise to parts unknown!

All of us have been anxiously waiting for some kind of news from Jimmy. When I called the President yesterday, he quoted the newspaper to me, which was not what I had hoped for in the way of “inside information.” It looks as though Jimmy would probably return home after I reach Maine, where sometime before July first, I must go to put our house in order before we turn it over to the International Student Service.

I did a number of errands in New York City today, saw some people who are leaving for the summer, and at 4:00, took a plane for Washington.

A letter came to me the other day, some of which I pass on to you. It reads:

Returning from Europe, where I have lived for 40 years in France, travelling often all over the Continent, I am shocked by the waste of food on all sides, in this, my native land. Now that starving Europe is tugging at our heart strings, now that we may soon be in a position to furnish these poor people with part of what they need, can nothing be done to awaken our people to the crime of wasting food?

I remember after three years of school in England under a French headmistress, returning to this country and being surprised and bewildered then by the waste of food I saw on every hand. The amount of sugar and cream wasted on cereal in the morning, which was often only half eaten!

I remember Mlle. Souvestre’s stern eye across the table at school, and the admonition:

You need never take anything on your plate, but when you have taken it, you must finish it.

My grandmother used to say when I was a tiny girl that there was an old adage:

Waste not, want not.

Then she used to add that as long as there were hungry children in the world, we should be ashamed to leave any food uneaten on our plates.


June 18, 1941

Washington, Tuesday –
I asked Mr. John Collier, of the Office of Indian Affairs, to come in late yesterday afternoon to tell me something about the Navajo situation, about which I wrote in my column a few days ago.

It appears that the land on the reservation, in 81 years, has completely changed because of overgrazing. What was once meadow land with plenty of water and beautiful grass, is now practically desert. The wooded slopes have disappeared, floods wash away the topsoil and the grass no longer exists. It is quite evident that, in order to bring it back, there must be a drastic curtailment of cattle, wild horses, goats and sheep.

This means that a people, whose average cash income is only about $120 a year, must either go on relief, which they want at all costs to avoid, or starve to death. The only other solution seems to be the possibility of carrying through an irrigation project which will allow them to irrigate enough land so they can raise crops to feed their cattle at certain times, and also to grow some cash crop if the difficulty of transportation can be overcome.

The decision on the irrigation is, of course, up to Congress. At the present time, I can quite understand the argument against putting money into anything which can be set aside to be done when the defense period is over. Still, if Congress decides that this is necessary, it seems to me that they have a joint responsibility with the Office of Indian Affairs to devise some means by which these naturally independent American citizens can earn their living and not feel dependent upon the government for a chance merely to survive.

Here is another problem which has come to me. You know and I know how bitterly the Negro people are disturbed over their inability to participate in national defense, or to obtain employment in defense industries. Here again, there are many difficulties and complications. But there is just one little item into which I think all of us could look in our respective communities.

In New York City there are 2,845 Negro youth workers on NYA, of whom 1,245 are girls. This group comprises 15.6% of the program in New York City. There is no discrimination in training and it is open to all girls. It has been found that the Negro girls are fitted to take training in as many different fields as the white girls, but in New York City and the State, the greatest number of employment opportunities for Negro girls are in domestic service.

The next employment opportunities lie in the operation of power sewing machines, because the International Ladies’ Garment Workers Union allows no race discrimination. In all the other fields of training, employment opportunities for Negro girls as against white girls, are extremely limited.

This living in a democracy is a problem, isn’t it?


June 19, 1941

Hyde Park, Wednesday –
We had an amusing lunch yesterday. Dr. Floyd Reeves and Mr. Mark McCloskey were our only guests. We sat on the South Portico looking across the White House lawn to the Jefferson Memorial. In passing, I should like to say that I hope in time the gleaming white dome of that memorial will weather to a little softer color.

At a little before 6:00, Prince Bernhard and Princess Juliana arrived. He is as friendly and simple as she proved to be when she came on her first visit. I met them on the front portico and took them up to the President’s study, where the President was waiting for them.

We had a small dinner and movie in the evening. The President had given me strict instructions that I was not to put over anything educational on them, that it was to be an evening of entertainment! In other words, he did not want me to use the occasion to show any of the government films. Therefore, our dinner guests are none the wiser as to our farm security program, our soil conservation work, the CCC, or any of the things which they might otherwise have seen!

When our dinner guests had left, the President sat and talked to our two young royal guests on European conditions until late in the night.

It was a joyful surprise just before dinner to get word from Bolling Field that Elliott had flown in from one of our outpost camps now being built. He telephoned his wife and and made the distressing discovery that his small son had had an accident to his eye. My poor little daughter-in-law, Ruth, has had a great many burdens to carry alone since Elliott went away. If it is true that one’s shoulders always adapt themselves to one’s burdens, she must be growing visibly in these months.

Elliott told me something about this camp on which these Regular Army boys are working 18 hours a day to transform into an airfield. The weather has been very trying and the boys who came up from Miami are finding it very difficult to adjust to it. Even letters take a long while to get there. Elliott says it is easy to think you have been forgotten by your family and friends as well as your government.

We left by night train for New York City and then took a train at 8:00 this morning for Poughkeepsie. We had breakfast on the train and Miss Mildred McAfee, the President of Wellesley College, joined us. She will stay for lunch at my cottage, after which we start off on our drive for Campobello Island.


June 20, 1941

Ellsworth, Maine, Thursday –
We spent last night in cabins just beyond Portsmouth, NH, bypass. Several detours, roads in the process of being mended, heavy traffic in and around Boston, and occasional showers of rain, made our trip really longer than it should have been.

It is a lovely drive though, along winding Connecticut roads with many glimpses of small lakes and running brooks. Finally, when we were nearing Newburyport, I had my first good smell of the sea, which is always exhilarating.

I thought we would spend the night in Portsmouth at the old Rockingham Hotel. My first surprise, however, was to find myself on the bypass, which I do not remember having seen before. It is a good many years since I have taken this drive and it may not have been in existence when I came up last.

In any case, I missed the first road into Portsmouth, and then was lost after turning off further on. I finally reached the hotel, only to find that they had no room. They directed us elsewhere, but we decided to go on a little further and look for some attractive cabins.

As a matter of fact, I think I could almost have reached Portland, Maine, in the time I wandered around the outskirts of Portsmouth. But these little mistakes are all “luck of the road” and, if you like occasionally to wander, you must count on making mistakes now and then.

11 o’clock found us settled for the night. Since Tuesday night had been spent on a train, it was rather nice to be in bed with the cool winds of New Hampshire blowing in from the sea and creating an atmosphere which reminded me that June in northern New England is not always a gentle summer month.

I wonder if you have as difficult a time as I have when it comes to choosing books you actually want to take on a brief holiday? I gathered up several yesterday, but I have a feeling that I left certain ones behind which I am going to wish I had. Among other things, I tried to pick one volume of poetry to reread, and I couldn’t make a choice.

As a result, I find myself burdened with several volumes. When I return, I shall tell you whether my choices were good or bad and how much I actually accomplished of the reading I must do, in addition to what I hope to do for pleasure.


June 21, 1941

Campobello Island, NB, Friday –
I woke up early yesterday morning. Perhaps it was the feel of the invigorating New England air which gave me so much energy. I used to spend a month or two quietly settled on Campobello Island for many summers, when our children were small and it is always pleasant to return there.

Yesterday morning, I had a little chat with the landlady of the cabins we stopped at outside of Portsmouth who told me that one of her sons would be eligible for the draft this year. He is working in a defense industry and may not be called, so he is thinking of volunteering. Her other son is still in school. It was interesting to find she agreed with me that, if we want a peaceful world in the future, we will have to do more than just talk about it and attend to our own affairs.

I drove into Portsmouth and had my car serviced and sent some telegrams. By the time I returned, the others had about made up their minds, I think, that I had run away and deserted them. We started at once in search of breakfast and stopped at the first place we could find. Then we drove steadily all day, except for a pleasant picnic lunch in a park which the CCC boys are arranging as a picnic area. They have built a number of buildings and are clearing the paths and parking spaces. It overlooks the water across the rocky beach and is really very beautiful. I think it will be very popular. Some other people already found their way there today, even though it is evident that it was newly opened.

We bought a newspaper in Portland and were startled by the news that Germany has made some definite demands on Russia, which would seem to make it difficult for Russia to remain on a friendly footing with her former ally. At intervals during the rest of the day, we tried to get more definite news over the radio concerning this situation. All that we could get, however, was that, in Moscow, rumors are flying about. That state of affairs is nothing new in any European country.

There is a bank of fog not very far out at sea, but the sun was kind enough to stay out and to give us a very gorgeous sunset on our arrival. The man on the ferry told us they had been having more or less foggy weather, so he thought we might be favored with some good days.

It is very nice to see so many pleasant, familiar faces. The custom officials in both Lubec, Maine, and Campobello Island, NB, treated us kindly. In no time we seemed to be settled in the house. Much must be done before the house will be ready for the many young people who are to be here for five weeks, but I think, somehow, we shall accomplish it.


June 23, 1941

Eastport, Maine, Sunday –
We are having the most wonderful weather, but even for this cool spot, it is warm and almost breathless. I was not surprised yesterday, when I talked to my husband, to have him tell me that the thermometer in Washington stood at ninety-six. I am afraid that Hyde Park is very nearly as warm.

Yesterday morning, on the water, it was cool and we had a grand breeze on our way over to Eastport, Maine. Once landed there, we visited various old friends in the fruit store, the drug store and the bank. Then we took a taxi and went out to Quoddy Village to visit the NYA resident project.

I had not seen this project since it had been turned over to the boys. I was impressed by the excellence of the workshops and by the tremendous interest which the boys show in the work they are doing in aviation mechanics and the regular machine shops. Out of every month, they work two weeks in the shops and one week in maintenance of houses and grounds, so that that Saturdays and Sundays are free. They have good classrooms and have set up an instrument room now, because they found a demand for men who could work on instruments.

The gliders they are making are extraordinarily good, and I hope the Army will send somebody up to inspect them, because I feel they could be used for experimental purposes. An airfield is being built quite nearby, so that someday they will actually see their engines take a plane off the grounds, we hope.

Perhaps the most exciting part of this project is the actual practice of democracy. The law allows no discrimination of race or religion, and these boys have entered into the spirit of real democracy. Since they govern themselves, they see to it that no discrimination exists. They have a mayor, a council and a court. They run elections and, when they leave, they know something of the mechanics of their government and a great deal about the spirit which must animate a democracy actually to make. it work.

I was very much impressed by the ex-mayor and the present mayor who went around with me and explained every step of the way. I marvelled at the way they had planned the trip. They had called a meeting and agreed that, though it was a Saturday, these boys knew that I would want to see them at work. It was decided to take Wednesday afternoon off and to work yesterday morning; no one was to ask me for autographs while I walked around.

I saw them have dinner. The food is good and yet they do it on 38¢ per boy per day. They plan a full recreational program and seem interested and happy. I think the NYA project at Quoddy is a very valuable project, for it seems to be turning out good men.


June 24, 1941

Eastport, Maine, Monday –
I was told an amusing story about the Quoddy project on Saturday, which had its origin, as you know, in a suggestion to harness the tides for power. The current saying among the boys is that the President started to make electrical power, but ended up by creating man power.

The sardine factories in Eastport and Lubec, Maine, are running every day in the week, for this year the fish are kind and apparently making up for their absence in the last five years. In Eastport, however, a man stopped me as I was returning to my boat on Saturday morning, to tell me they are facing a real problem.

They provide coal for this section, even for many little islands offshore. The coal is bought and paid for, but it is in Norfolk, Va., and they have not been able to obtain a ship for transportation.

Here is one place where they recognize emergency restrictions and difficulties. They are seriously concerned as the days slip by, not only about their industries, but about the actual suffering that may come to individuals a little later on.

I wonder if this may have some effect on the way people look on power development up here. I understand that some people feel there is all the power necessary already developed in Maine. They may be right, but if people are cold and industries cannot run, it is going to be a little hard to prevent them from looking for substitutes to replace the things they would use under ordinary conditions.

We lunched yesterday with my cousin, Mrs. Frederick B. Adams. Mr. Guy Gannett, of Portland, Maine, and Mrs. Elisabeth May Craig came over on Saturday to lunch with us. Mrs. Craig stayed over until this morning and we dropped her in Eastport for her return trip to Washington.

We are off today to buy a number of things which we need for our house, which has never before held so many people as it will during the five weeks of the summer institute here, under the auspices of the International Student Service.

I have just been sent a very charming love story which will appear in Reader’s Digest on June 25. This is a new departure for the Digest, but they are doing it at just the right age. They are now in their 20th year and, after all, romance should not wait beyond that time for recognition.

I know you will enjoy “Do You Remember?,” which appeared originally in Good Housekeeping Magazine, and which is written by Earl Reed Silvers. I wish that all associate professors of English wrote with such tenderness and humor. They might be a greater inspiration to their students than they sometimes are.


June 25, 1941

Eastport, Maine, Tuesday –
We discovered yesterday that war makes a considerable difference in the lives of the Canadian people. I wanted to buy what I could in Canada and need many things since forty people in a house require a good many more household goods than twenty. As usual, most of my kitchen utensils require replenishing also. Therefore, we took a large boat and went off in the morning at 9:00. We left Mrs. Craig in Eastport to be motored to Bangor and, unbelievable as it may seem, to reach Washington by air late that night. Think of going from the coolness of Maine to the heat of Washington in less than twelve hours!

We proceeded up the bay under rather gray skies, which was perhaps fortunate, since all of us got a wind burn, but not the uncomfortable sunburn which we might otherwise have had. After buying all we could in St. Andrews, we went across to a beach on a little island, cooked ourselves some scrambled eggs in the old frying pan, which has gone on so many picnics up here, and went back to St. Andrews to collect our purchases and to buy some lobsters in the pound, for one can not buy them now on the island. I never saw so many alive in one place before and, for once, I think we shall have all the lobsters we can eat today at one meal.

We intended to go on to St. Stephen to buy the things we could not get in St. Andrews, but they are on what I call double daylight saving time in Canada, which is one hour ahead of our daylight time. We realized that we would be too late to find shops open, so we started back to Eastport. Just to make things seem thoroughly familiar, the engine overheated on the way back and we stopped. I had visions of lying helpless in the bay for some time, but after administering some nice cool salt water, Captain Cline coaxed the engine into action again, and we finished our shopping in Eastport.

One always forgets certain things and I am sure we shall have to do some more shopping. We are busy today putting everything we have bought into place.

Senator Harrison’s death came as a shock to me. He has been a figure in the Senate for so many years. He will be sadly missed. I always found him such a charming and courteous person. It is sad to see those figures one has grown to count on in public life move off the stage, but I suppose we should be grateful for the many years they have been able to serve their country.


June 26, 1941

Eastport, Maine, Wednesday –
A man in Brooklyn, NY, sends me a clipping containing a few words I had said about our responsibility, as a nation, to the world, and comments on it in a little rhyme about “looking out for number one, before anything has begun.” He thinks we haven’t “plenty to spare” and can’t “send it all over there.”

It does seem to me that the gentleman misses the point. If we bend every effort now to produce necessary material help for those who are doing the fighting in a cause which we believe to be right, we may keep the war from our shores. If Great Britain, China and Russia lose, sooner or later, we will have to fight.

No matter how well prepared we are, 175,000,000 people in this hemisphere will have quite a struggle; first on the economic side and eventually on the military side.

We shall be pitted against 500,000,000 people in Europe and Japan, and Heaven knows how many more if Russia is not able to hold out. I don’t want war, but I think that every effort we can put into production and military preparation to aid those fighting Hitler, is our best guarantee against war; and our only safety, should it come.

Yesterday afternoon, I went over to Lubec, Maine, to see my old friend, Dr. Bennett, who is now 90 years old. He is deeply troubled by the state of the world and kept repeating:

What has happened to the goodness in the world?

I think a good many of us would like to know the answer to that question.

We went in to see Dr. Bennett’s son, who is also a doctor, and told him that there would be thirty young people in this house for five weeks. I think he may have to keep in eye on them now and then, and I reminded him of some of the escapades his father had pulled many of our people through in days gone by.

In the evenings, we read aloud from William Shirer’s War Diary. The book is a wonderful piece of vivid writing. It is extraordinary that he was able to do his work in Berlin, feeling as he did, and not get into serious trouble. It must have required an amount of self-control which very few of us possess.

June 27, 1941

Eastport, Maine, Thursday –
Yesterday might have been an autumn day, cold and clear, with the wind blowing from the west. We thought we might go across to Grand Manan, but there were whitecaps on the bay, so we decided that it would be too cold and rough for pleasure outside the bay. We put it off and, alas, today is gray and cloudy and again we must defer it.

I had a call yesterday afternoon from Officer Sennett of the Canadian Mounted Police. He offered his services in case any of our young people are lost in the woods, or anything else occurs where he can be helpful. Since he is stationed on the island for the summer, I certainly hope that no one will be lost in the woods. However, such things have happened, and it is good to know there is someone who can be called upon in case of emergencies. Officer Sennett boards with the gentleman who looks after our pump engine, Mr. Murray Johnson, so he will not be hard to find.

We lunched with my cousin, Mrs. Fred Adams, and she took us for a walk through some of her paths in the woods. I am afraid that, to those who are familiar with them, it seems a bewildering walk and to find it again without a guide may be difficult.

There was a most beautiful sunset last night which left a deep red glow in one spot and one felt one might be looking at flames from an active volcano. It gradually faded to pink and the water took on the soft mauve shade that comes just before dark. We turned away from the window and sat around the fire and read aloud.

At 10:00 p.m., we got news over the radio from the United States, and so listened to Mr. Raymond Gram Swing. I must say nobody seems very positive in analyzing and forecasting the future. It is too much to ask, I imagine, for I doubt if there ever was a world situation quite like the present one.

There is an old saying that politics makes strange bedfellows. War seems to do much the same thing. Gradually, however, the pieces of the puzzle seem to be slipping into place. Smaller nations have no choice, they must either toe the mark in one way or another, or be swallowed up. The great nations will soon all have declared their position in the immediate situation.

What is to come later is still a mystery, but I am not sure that the shaping of the future is not going to require greater skill and courage even than fighting the war to a finish.

We are off to Eastport now to get a few of the things which were forgotten on our shopping trip the other day. Then I think an open fire and a book will look very inviting.


June 28, 1941

Eastport, Maine, Friday –
I have just received a slightly delayed communication from my Congressman, the Hon. Hamilton Fish. His letter, addressed to the people of the 26th Congressional District in New York State, interests me very much. He suggests in the first paragraph that:

…an undeclared war is an invention and creation of totalitarian nations, and a negation of democratic processes and our constitutional form of government.

Nowhere in the letter does he seem to suggest that, this being the case, and we being a peace-loving people, we may find ourselves the victims of an undeclared war, whether we like it or not, even if we ourselves adhere scrupulously to the “democratic processes.”

He encloses in this courteous note, a postal card which reads:

The United States should:
Enter the war __
Stay out of the war __

All I am asked to do is to check one of these statements, sign my name or not, as I like, and return my ballot within three days of receipt.

I understand from a newspaper item which I read, that my Congressman has received an overwhelming number stating that the United States should stay out of war. That seems to me fairly natural.

If I thought I had a choice in the matter, I should answer wholeheartedly that I did not wish to enter any war anywhere in the world. But it seems to me that my Congressman has oversimplified the question which confronts us at the moment.

We would like to stay out of war. The people of Norway, Holland and all the other countries in Europe, even France and Russia, and Germany itself, would probably have liked to stay out of war. But that wasn’t ever put before them as a choice. The war was suddenly upon them. In some cases, their government in the form of a dictator decreed it so. In others, because they woke up one morning and found soldiers of an enemy government marching down their streets.

I can think of a number of questions, Mr. Congressman, which you could have asked your constituents that would have been more enlightening to them and to you. Just as a suggestion, why not ask:

Shall the U.S. allow any enemy nation to obtain possessions which may menace, under modern conditions of warfare, the safety of the U.S.?

Or:

Shall we accept restrictions on our trade or the abrogation of our right to travel in neutral waters throughout the world?

We have always been a proud and independent people, Mr. Congressman. As a woman, I pray for peace not only now, but in the future. But I think we must look a little beyond next week if we expect to ensure an independent U.S.A. to our children. There is such a thing, too, as the moral values of a situation, and I do not think we are a nation that has given up considerations for right and wrong as we see it.


June 30, 1941

Fitchburg, Mass. –
Friday afternoon we went to Eastport, Maine, and did our last bit of shopping. We still found many things we wanted simply did not exist within Eastport and had to think up substitutes.

You have no idea how ingenious you can be when you are shopping for things you want and they are not forthcoming. There were no more scrap baskets, so I found some very nice bushel baskets, designed, I think, for packing apples, but with paper in the bottom. They will do nicely as scrap baskets.

If you can’t get pillows of one size, you take them in any sizes that are available. If you can’t find a ready-made cover for the ironing board, you buy canton flannel and sheeting to make it.

After the shopping was over, we went up the Denny River in Captain Cline’s little boat and explored Great South Bay. We entered a narrow passage into which, years ago, I remember my husband taking the Half Moon. On that occasion, we had to turn around, but this boat was so much smaller, we were able to circle the island and it was a beautiful trip.

We were about 20 minutes from home when, suddenly, a cloud above, us opened and we were thoroughly soaked in five minutes. It was so cold that even with a sweater and homespun coat, I could hardly wait to get home and warm up by the fire. My cousin, Mrs. Adams, and her daughter, came in for a few minutes in the evening to say goodbye. Yesterday morning, at 9:15, Miss Thompson and I started on our way home. I confess I was a little disappointed not to be able to wait to see all the young people, but we shall be returning soon.

On the drive home, we had the top of the car down. Though there was some fog in the distance, it was a beautiful trip. At Franklin Road, Maine, our friends, Mr. and Mrs. Hancock Griffin, met us. We followed them to their house, which is right on the water, looking across to Mt. Desert, Maine. I must say the island played hide and seek with us in the fog, but we could see how lovely the view must be on a clear day, and I happen to like the softness of a fog blowing in and out. One of Mr. and Mrs. Griffin’s daughters is to be married in a few days, so we saw some of her presents. I was particularly glad to meet the young bridegroom, Mr. Richard Herrick.

Then we started off and I disgraced myself by going off the road into the ditch and had to be pulled out. Otherwise our drive was uneventful. We spent the night in a very nice cabin, not far from Ipswich, Massachusetts. In a few minutes we are starting off, first to find breakfast, and then to visit Franklin Jr.'s wife and little boy at Beverly Farms, Massachusetts.