The Autobiography of Eleanor Roosevelt (58 page)

Of course, the Democratic party had many conservatives in powerful positions, too, but in general it was more progressive. Some of us have long hoped for a political realignment that would result in major parties that more truly represent the conservative and progressive thinking of the people. But it is difficult to say whether that will ever be possible.

Still another thing that influenced me in getting back into politics as the 1956 campaign approached was Governor Stevenson’s high standing among statesmen of other countries which are our allies or which we want to have on our side in the world struggle against Communism. After his defeat in 1952 Governor Stevenson had taken a trip around the world to study conditions in other countries and, during my own world travels, I had been greatly interested in the impression he had made on foreign statesmen. Again and again they told me that Mr. Stevenson was the kind of man who listened, who wanted to learn all the facts.

After Governor Stevenson had traveled around the world and had made a special journey to study African problems, he came to call on me one day to talk about whether he should again seek the Democratic nomination for president. He is a very intelligent man but he is also a humble man, and there were questions he was trying to resolve in his own mind.

“Don’t you feel,” he asked, “that there are others who would do better than I as leader of the party?”

“I cannot think of anyone else,” I replied, “who has the ability to do the job you could do in meeting the most vital needs of the day.”

Though I urged Governor Stevenson to run, I did not expect to take an important part in the campaign and decided to go to Europe with my two grandsons at the time of the Democratic National Convention. To my surprise, this horrified some of my friends. “If you fail to attend the convention,” one of them said, “everybody will think you have changed your mind about supporting Adlai.”

So finally I sent my grandsons off alone on the boat and arranged to spend a couple of days at the Chicago convention before flying to Europe. When I arrived at the Chicago airport I was received by several supporters of Governor Stevenson. While I was en route to Chicago, former President Truman, who had begged Mr. Stevenson to run in 1952, had come out in favor of the nomination of Governor Averell Harriman of New York.

I certainly was not thrilled by this news, for various reasons. President Truman had always been especially considerate toward me. I had reported to him personally after the various meetings of the United Nations and had learned that he had a remarkable understanding of the office and duties of the President. I felt that he had had to make more than his share of big decisions as president and that he had made few mistakes in times of crisis. The mistakes he made were human mistakes in smaller things.

That morning in Chicago I was thinking of President Truman’s great ability as a campaigner, and I was dismayed by the idea of pitting my political judgment against his.

I was told that I was going not to my hotel but to a press conference. When we drove to the hotel where the newspaper people were waiting I had to face more reporters and more cameras than I had ever seen before. I was fearful of the ordeal of justifying my judgment in opposition to President Truman but actually it turned out to be no ordeal at all. I said as simply and frankly as possible what I believed, and it was no more difficult than an ordinary press conference.

The reporters, of course, made as much as possible of my opposition to President Truman because it is more interesting to write about disagreements than about routine agreement. But they hadn’t counted on the fact that I had previously asked President and Mrs. Truman to luncheon that day. Mrs. Truman could not come but, immediately after my press conference, I met the former President in the grillroom of my hotel. The reporters scented another story. Were we going to make a deal? In no time at all, newspapermen had taken over a large table about three feet from my elbow and were more intent on my conversation with President Truman than they were on their food.

They didn’t get much to write, even if they had keen ears. We talked about everything except the convention until we had finished luncheon and then our differences were mentioned only indirectly.

“I hope you will understand that whatever action I take is because I think I am doing the right thing,” President Truman said.

“Of course,” I replied. “I know you will act as you believe is right and I know you will realize that I must do the same.”

President Truman nodded and grinned. “What I want to do is to make this convention do some real thinking about issues,” he said.

Later, when I had gone to my hotel room, I felt that I was a fish out of water and that I really had nothing to do at this convention. But I did attend a reception Governor Stevenson gave in my honor and I accompanied him on visits to various state delegations to seek their support. I saw many persons in my room, attended a luncheon for women delegates, and went before the Platform Committee twice to speak on civil rights and education.

Paul Butler, the Democratic national chairman, also asked me to speak briefly in the convention. When I got there the pandemonium was so great that I don’t believe any speaker could have been heard with the possible exception of Governor Frank Clement of Tennessee, whose keynote address proved that he had a strong voice. However, what I said could be heard over radio and television, and later many persons were kind enough to say that my words gained considerable attention in the contest for delegates. In any event, I was pleased when Governor Stevenson won the nomination.

During the lively contest for the vice-presidential nomination between Senator Estes Kefauver and Senator John Kennedy, a friend of Senator Kennedy came to me with a request for support. I replied that I did not feel I could support him because he had avoided taking a position during the controversy over Senator Joseph McCarthy’s methods of investigation. Senator Kennedy was in the hospital when the Senate voted censure of Senator McCarthy and, of course, could not record his position, but later, when he returned to the Senate, reporters asked him how he would have voted and he failed to answer directly.

“Oh, that was a long time ago,” the senator’s friend told me. “He was unable to vote and it is all a thing of the past. It should not have anything to do with the present situation.”

“I think McCarthyism is a question on which public officials must stand up and be counted,” I replied. “I still have not heard Senator Kennedy express his convictions. And I cannot be sure of the political future of anyone who does not willingly state where he stands on that issue.”

Senator Kennedy came to see me in Chicago and I told him exactly the same thing. He replied in about the words he had previously used in talking to reporters, saying that the McCarthy censure vote was “so long ago” that it did not enter the current situation. But he did not say where he stood on the issue and I did not support him.

I did not stay in Chicago for the balloting on the vice-presidential nominee but flew back to New York the day before my plane left for Europe. I felt a sense of great relief at leaving politics behind, and I expected to play only a very quiet role in the presidential campaign. It didn’t work out that way. The two months after my return proved to be among the most hectic of my life, because I ended by doing far more than I had expected to do, and I had, at the same time, to keep my lecture dates.

I thought and still think that a good business executive does not make a good government administrator, nor does an administration of businessmen make for good government. A businessman needs certain qualities for success; a government official needs a wide variety of qualities and some quite different ones. He cannot be successful unless he has a knowledge of people and politics, and there is no doubt that a number of Eisenhower appointees had to learn this in a slow, difficult manner. Often businessmen go into government with the idea that they will be the men at the top and that their orders will be carried out. This is probably the correct approach in business, but in government it is necessary to persuade others that what they want to do is the best course. Unless Congress goes along with them, they can’t get results. President Eisenhower evidently felt that he could establish an administration in the pattern of big business, but such an approach to the complexities of government is not necessarily either democratic or successful—as I believe he has discovered.

In the same way, I don’t believe that because a man is a successful corporation lawyer he will necessarily be the best person to direct the Department of State. Outsiders like myself do not have all the facts at their command in regard to international affairs, but surely it was blundering that carried us into the mess in which we found ourselves in 1956 in the Middle East, and still find ourselves.

Secretary Dulles served in all but two of the United Nations Assemblies in which I served. I often observed that he was rarely inclined to take a stand, to say that this was right or wrong. He shied away from decisions because he didn’t like to make himself responsible for a definite program. This probably explains why he did not come to the defense of loyal public servants in his department when they were under bitter and unfair attack, which naturally led to low morale in the State Department.

I might add that I don’t believe there is much question that Vice-President Richard Nixon will succeed Mr. Eisenhower as party leader, regardless of the opposition of some Republicans. I regard Mr. Nixon as a very able and dangerous opportunist, but since 1952 he has learned a great deal. He now knows the importance of gaining the confidence of the people and he has worked hard at it and made progress. This still does not make me believe that he has any strong convictions.

One of the important duties of the President—and one that the Republican administration neglects—is to be the educator of the public on national problems. Most people do not have the time or inclination to inform themselves fully on the complex and seemingly remote problems that must be settled by government. But if he knows the issues and explains them clearly, the President is in a position to make the people aware of what must be decided and to make them feel their responsibility as citizens in reaching a decision. Without such education of the people, democracy can become a dangerous kind of government because voters are called upon to make decisions or to support decisions without having sufficient knowledge of the factors involved.

To get back to the subject of that campaign, I had gone late in September to Oregon to do anything I could in behalf of Senator Wayne Morse’s race for re-election to the Senate, this time as a Democrat instead of on the Republican ticket. I had to work my political appearances into a tight schedule so that I could also keep my lecture engagements, which were often in distant cities. That was a hectic period. I recall one occasion when I (speaking from Los Angeles) was to introduce. Governor Stevenson over television for a speech he was making that night in Milwaukee, but I was also scheduled to speak at a luncheon, hold a news conference, attend a reception, and then go on to San Diego to appear on another television program. Because my plane was two hours late, the day was further confused. When I reached the studio where I was to introduce Governor Stevenson I had half an hour to spare. To the horror of the studio people, I insisted on having an office stenographer to whom I dictated two newspaper columns while the political managers stood by biting their fingernails.

There were a good many other days just as crowded. Later in West Virginia, in the mining area, I continued campaigning. I stopped at a mine when the shifts were changing and talked to some of the miners, something I had not done since the early days of the depression in the 1930’s. The miners were better off than in those former days and I was happy to see the changes. I felt at home in this mining environment. It took me back to the depression period when I spent much time trying to see what could be done for the people, particularly the children, of this area.

On that campaign tour I traveled in all directions. I ran into Senator Alexander Wiley, the Republican incumbent, who was on his campaign tour. Senator Wiley was having his troubles because of the opposition of his Republican colleague from Wisconsin, Senator McCarthy. President Eisenhower had not come out strongly in Senator Wiley’s support, although the Senator had been a staunch administration man in Congress. But I admired the way in which he had fought for a sound foreign policy and I greeted him warmly when I saw him in Marquette. I was later told that he felt this had done him no harm in his winning campaign.

As I moved rapidly from one area to another on a tight schedule I managed it only by taking every opportunity to snatch some sleep sitting in a plane or an automobile or resting a few minutes in a chair.

This kind of thing went on for weeks. I never fooled myself about the difficulties of defeating the incumbent administration at a time when there were no great and compelling reasons for the public to make a change. If the people are fairly comfortable and there is no great unrest, they prefer to let well enough alone, and it is seldom possible to stir them by pointing out that there are grave problems ahead—in this case, in the international field. You can’t expect the voters generally to respond very strongly to such a situation. But in a campaign you have to feel that you may be able to overcome your handicaps, for otherwise you will not be able to give your speeches with any conviction. So I kept telling myself that we had a chance to win and that it was worthwhile to make the strongest possible fight.

I did, however, get awfully, awfully tired of motorcades. I have no idea how many times I rode through the streets of various cities in a procession of open-top automobiles carrying candidates for national and local office. Most of them were rather silly performances. There are only two people who really become well known to the people during a campaign. In this case, one was the President, whom they knew, and the other was the head of the opposition ticket, who was trying to become president. Of course, there are some local candidates for office whom they recognize, but as far as I was concerned the motorcade always seemed ridiculous because there was no reason for anyone to bother to come out on the street to look at me.