Winning With Words. Chapter Seven: The Race Tightened. Was War the Issue? Or was it Anti-Semitism?
Ed Flynn showed them an uncertain map. The polls were in conflict. Willkie said war would come from a man would be dictator. Sam Rosenman said anti-Semitism was under it all. Bob Sherwood was afire.
This Chapter: The good news, a week out from election day, was that Willkie could not win unless he swept a wide swath of states across the midwest that ran all the way to New York, Roosevelt’s home state where he had always run behind his national numbers. The bad news was that Willkie was close and gaining ground in all of them. They were early in the week of attacking “deliberate falsifications of facts” in hard-hitting speeches broadcast nationally. The train was on the way to Boston with quick stops along the way at defense factories. Boston was full of young voters shouting slogans of peace at all costs. Should the strategy change or should they hold the course of winning with words?
Contents of this Episode:
Playing Professional Politics. Released on Substack Saturday, May 17
Radio and Rail Rolling. Released on Substack Sunday, May 18
The Real Campaign Begins at its Very End. Released on Substack Monday, May 19
Handling John L. Lewis and Joe Kennedy. Released on Substack Tuesday, May 20
Countdown New York, Election Day Minus Eight. Released on Substack Wednesday, May 21
Countdown Washington, Selective Service, Election Day Minus Seven. Released on Substack Thursday, May 22
The Race Tightened. Was War the Issue? Or was it Anti-Semitism? Released on Substack Friday, May 23
Countdown Boston, Election Day Minus Six. Released on Substack Saturday, May 24
Countdown Brooklyn, Election Day Minus Four. Released on Substack Sunday, May 25
Countdown Cleveland, Election Day Minus Three. Released on Substack Monday, May 26
Election Eve: Tallulah Produces a Big Show. Released on Substack Tuesday, May 27
Election Night, Hyde Park. Released on Substack Wednesday, May 28
Chapter Seven: The Race Tightened. Was War the Issue? Or was it Anti-Semitism?
Reading time: thirteen minutes
By either of the the two independent measures the race was tightening. The Gallup Poll had Roosevelt up three points in the popular vote, but dangerously vulnerable in the electoral outcome with weakness in the Midwest and also New York. The Roper Poll, in competition with Gallup but less trusted for its relative newness, showed Roosevelt ahead in the popular vote by six points yet still vulnerable electorally because so much of his popular support was coming from the Solid South.
On three previous occasions presidential nominees had been defeated in the electoral result despite winning the popular vote — Andrew Jackson losing to John Quincy Adams in 1824, Samuel Tilden losing to Rutherford B. Hayes in 1876, and Grover Cleveland losing to Benjamin Harrison in 1888.
Both Gallup and Roper reported only those respondents who stated a preference for president. Those who did not state a preference were simply not counted, as they had not been first asked if they intended to vote. The final polls, predictions of the outcome, would be released on the last Sunday, two days before the election. Roosevelt’s task was to take votes away from Willkie and to get his own supporters to the polling places on election day. Henry Wallace had come east for the final weeks as the Roosevelt team thought he had a useful national reputation. The Republican candidate for Vice President, Senator Charles McNary of Oregon, stayed put because the Willkie team considered him unknown nationally and irrelevant to the outcome.
Wallace and Ed Flynn met the train early in New York and Flynn monopolized breakfast with a pile of telegrams and a map that he thought had clarified somewhat with the Kennedy endorsement.
From the Rockies to the Pacific electoral votes were scarce, except for California. Flynn was confident Roosevelt would carry nine of those eleven states bringing in 54 electoral votes, with only Colorado’s six and Oregon’s five up for grabs. He gave those eleven votes to Willkie, though his sources told him that FDR would carry Oregon. Flynn gave the four farm states stacked vertically — North Dakota, South Dakota, Nebraska, and Kansas — to Willkie. Their 24 votes brought the tally to 54-35. He put 83 more from the seven-state southern core below Missouri, Kentucky, and Virginia, east of Texas and Oklahoma, and north of Florida in the president’s pocket. That put Roosevelt at 137 with 270 as the winning target. While Flynn was less sure of the states that bracketed the solid south, even in the direst view he thought they were Roosevelt’s. Those five — Texas, Oklahoma, Missouri, Kentucky, and Virginia — added 71 to his electoral total, bringing it to 208. Florida, with seven votes, dangled to the side of his map, but he felt good about West Virginia’s eight and took them. Everybody on the train was certain about Florida, so Flynn gave in and took those seven and brought the boss’s total to 223.
Then he discussed the eastern swath of New England’s six states, plus New York, New Jersey, Delaware, and Maryland. Willkie would carry eight from Maine and Vermont. That gave him 43. With Massachusetts secure now that Kennedy was on board, Flynn put the 33 votes of New Hampshire, Massachusetts, Connecticut, and Rhode Island in Roosevelt’s column. That made 256, and then, fourteen short of victory, things got dicey.
New York’s 47 would put them safely home, but Roosevelt had always struggled there. In his first race for governor, he won a race that was too close to call until the sun came up. In 1932 and 1936 he had carried his home state, but both times by less than the national percentages. And now everybody Flynn was talking to had gone pessimistic. “It’s all about the war, about being dragged into it by a man who has always needed to be restrained from his dictatorial impulses. Since I’m being somewhat dire here, I’m putting New York in the toss-up category, and as it goes so goes New Jersey,” he said. They all moaned, but he insisted.
“Here’s the ball game,” he said. “I give us Minnesota for eleven more. That’s 267 for us. I give Michigan, Indiana, and Iowa to Willkie. That puts him at 87. The good news, the very good news, is that Willkie has to run the board from then on to win. He has to carry Wisconsin, Illinois, Ohio, Pennsylvania, Maryland, Delaware, New Jersey, and New York to win. Every one of them. The bad news is I give him a chance in all of them. If we sneak either Oregon or Colorado away from him we win in any case, and if I weren’t such a pessimistic guy I’d give us Oregon based on everything I’m hearing from out there.
“There are a couple of wild cards that add to my uncertainty. Most of all, I’m concerned about the volatility of the electorate. The people are really angry, people on both sides. I’ve answered these telegrams, but take a look at them. They all come from our soldiers, field workers, and they all ask me to tell you, Mr. President, to say that there will be no war.
“I keep hearing from local politicians who say, ‘I don’t know. I just don’t know.’ These are people who never say ‘I don’t know.’ They got to where they are by always being the one who knows, even when they don’t.
“Willkie has been pelted with rotten eggs and rotten fruit, and his supporters have responded with violence of their own. The working class is where most of this is coming from and you have to wonder how much effect John L. Lewis is having with them. The reaction among young people is less intense, but there is a lot of sign waving and shouting, on college campuses in particular. Recently, I’ve heard of a lot of noise about Elliott’s commission.” Roosevelt’s son Elliott, the middle of five surviving, had entered the Army Air Corps in late September with a Captain’s commission, an unusual rank for openers, but one that General Henry Arnold, the Commander of the Air Corps, said was his entitlement because of his extensive experience with flight.
Sherwood said, “Why would anybody get riled up about that? He has credentials. Hap Arnold said there was no nepotism involved.”
Rosenman said, “It’s not about Elliott, and it’s not as much about the war as you might think. Students have deferments, parents too. The chance of most of these young people going to war is minuscule, and they know it. It’s about the Jews. All this is about the Jews. The great undercurrent of this election is anti-Semitism. Millions of Americans think Hitler’s right in driving the Jews out of his culture, only he’s gone too far. They believe we’re being driven to war by the influence of our Jews on you, Mr. President. They’re calling you Frank Rosenfeld!”
Hopkins said, “Tell me about anti-Semitism, Sam. Do you experience it?”
“Sure. Not here among you, but it’s a living thing with huge numbers of Americans, and we all experience it in many ways in all the days of our lives.”
Roosevelt said, “Yes it is, Sam. It’s real and pervasive. Lindbergh is fomenting it with his every veiled remark. There’s no strong sentiment for preferring fascism to democracy except among the robber barons of capitalism, but there are many Americans who think we should purify ourselves, and the Jews are the place to start. Their bigotry extends also to the coloreds, but they see the Jews as having real political and financial influence. The way for us to confront it in this last week is with words that remind the people of our common humanity, an American unity that rises above Poles, Germans, Jews, Swedes, Africans, Italians, and all our other heritages. You’ve done us a great service, Eddie, by bringing all this emotional volatility to our attention. I’m with you on your unease. We have much work to do in the next few days. I’m confident and serene in my heart, but bleak and dire in my head. Fact is, I’m a long way from optimistic about Massachusetts and if that goes away, you can kiss New Hampshire, Connecticut, and Rhode Island goodbye. Let’s play it out as though you’ve brought us the Grail and the Bible all in one and we’ve got our backs against the wall.”
Wallace said, “I should go back to Iowa. I can bring that home. Maybe take Harry with me.”
Flynn said, “I don’t think you can, Mr. Secretary. I think Iowa is gone.”
The president said, “No, Henry, I have work for you in Brooklyn tomorrow night with the labor rally. And Harry has speeches to write.”
“Scribble,” Missy said. “He doesn’t write. He scribbles.”
“So did Shakespeare,” Harry said.
Wallace, Hopkins, Flynn, and RuthJean Rumelt stayed in New York. Wallace and Hopkins would manage the labor rally the next night with Rumelt’s secretarial support. Before the train left, Harry read many of the telegrams. He said, “We should go to a hospital, to the maternity ward, and have him kiss babies.”
Missy said, “You can’t kiss the babies in maternity wards.”
“Well, where can we go to prove he hates war and loves peace?”
“Boston,” she said.
*
Sherwood and Rosenman huddled on the trip from New York to Boston. Bob said he needed to write a new ending for the speech that was his. He didn’t like it anyway for its continued recitation of how the Republicans had talked about the boss’s failure to prepare for war while voting against every measure that would have made it possible. He wanted to take the anti-Semitism issue head on.
Sam said, “We can’t do that, Bob. That’s like opening up a whole new front in the campaign debate.”
“But Ed was right. You, too. Even the president agreed.”
“He agreed that was the underlying issue, but we’ve got to win on the overlying issue. War. Getting ready defensively, but assuring them we won’t get into it.”
“I think we should talk to the people about what’s really in their hearts.”
“This ain’t church, Bob. It’s politics. First we win. Then we govern. Walk the narrow line. Close with a pep talk about unity, about how we’re all in this together. Tell them we know they know, and we know, this is the time to come together as Americans. Appeal to their patriotism.”
“That sounds like razzle dazzle.”
“Probably. But we can only handle one crusade at a time, and the one we’re waging right now requires a little razzle dazzle. Anti-Semitism will just have to wait in line. Don’t sweat it. Jews are the most patient people in the world. Give them one of those ‘Slavs, Swedes, Italians, Dutch, and Jews’ lines, and my guys will take it and stand with us.”
“And Africans?”
“Oh, no! I wish. You saw the map. Eighty-something electoral votes from the states of the Confederacy. Bite that holy thought off as it rises to your throat. The Africans place in line right now is at the back. They’re even behind the Jews.”
“I get it. But brace yourself for my Cleveland speech. I believe I can find a way to thread the needle.”
“Take their skin off, partner. Make them bleed and love it. I’ll set you up with my Brooklyn speech.”
More cables came as the train made its way to New Haven for a short back porch speech and to Hartford where he disembarked for a tour of the Pratt & Whitney plant where they were making engines for bombers. They made Springfield next, in Massachusetts, for a tour of the Springfield Arsenal, and the telegrams continued to arrive.
In Boston the president went for dinner and a nap to the Charles River apartment of his son John, the family oddball. He had graduated from Harvard and took a job at Filene’s department store, for reasons that went unexplained, and lived across from a dormitory of MIT where the students had hung a banner that said, “We Want Wendell Willkie!” They shouted, “Papa, I want to be a Captain! Nobody shoots at a Captain!” until the president left hours later for the speech.
Roosevelt was booed as he crossed the Mass Avenue bridge and headed northeast up Beacon Street for the Boston Garden, but when the motorcade reached Scollay Square the boos turned to cheers. Sherwood had gone for a walk, leaving his credentials somewhere else, and was isolated until a Secret Service agent saw him and waved him onboard. He asked the agent what he thought of the boos and he said, “They’re pissed off,” and asked him again about the cheers when they erupted. “They’re not pissed off,” was the answer.
On the train, he had presented the new ending to Roosevelt, who said, “No mention of our colored people? We could put them in here as ‘Africans’ when we’re listing all the other nationalities.”
“This ain’t church, Mr. President. This is politics.”
“You’ve been talking to Harry.”
“That line came from Sam.”
“Sam’s work for Friday is quite preachy.”
“We think the American people need a little heart-to-heart talk from their best friend. Or their father figure.”
“It’s a narrow line.”
“Yes it is, but we can walk it. Wait ’til you see my draft for Cleveland.”
“Churchy?”
“Not quite churchy, but you’ll be givin’ ’em some of that old time religion.”
“Bob, you’ve been a great counterbalance for us. It’s a true honor to have you with us.”
“I’ve had a couple of honors in my life, Mr. President, but winning this one will be the best of them all. There’s so much at stake for America.”