PART ONE
In 1920 the Democratic ticket, headed by James M. Cox and Franklin D. Roosevelt, suffered a resounding defeat. America wanted Harding and normalcy by 404 electoral votes to 127. The only bitterness Roosevelt felt was at the repudiation of the League of Nations. "It will break the hearts of the world," Wilson had said. It seemed more likely to harden them to cynicism and selfishness. In domestic affairs Roosevelt took a long view: reaction had won, but it was a negative principle; the next swing would go all the further ahead. That would be the time for accomplishment, whether it came in four, eight, or twelve years.
Personally, he was glad to have escaped the ambiguous place of Vice-President; glad to be free for a little while. The children were growing up: Anna was an intellectual young lady of fifteen; James was in his second year at Groton; Elliott was a head-strong boy who needed a firm hand; the other two were old enough to be companionable. Good kids, all of them. He'd have time now really to get to know them; to teach them to sail .and hunt and fish; explore their minds and offer them a few things he had learned. What fun they'd have! The years ahead looked good.
First there were a lot of odds and ends to clean up. Eleanor needed someone at Hyde Park to help her to take care of the campaign's aftermath correspondence.
"What was the name of that sweet girl McCarthy had at headquarters?" she asked. "She'll be out of a job now. We might get her."
"Missy LeHand — Marguerite," Franklin said. "That's a good idea."
"I'll see if she can come for a few weeks...."
Missy stayed with them throughout all of the tremendous years, until her death.
Franklin wound up the campaign affairs gave each of his aides a set of cuff links — the Cuff Link Club — and saw Louis Howe off to Washington, where he was going to finish out his term at the Navy Department. That was a sad parting, for Franklin had become very fond of the little man through years of close companionship. But Louis Howe had his own career to make; he'd get a good job somewhere; they'd lose touch....
It would be selfish to try to hold him. Franklin thought he would not need Louis again for a long time.
Roosevelt took his first stretch of freedom in a hunting trip to Louisiana. Then he came back looking for a job. His old law firm of Marvin. Hooker and Roosevelt had been revamped. Grenville Emmet had kept it going while the other members were serving their country, and for this reason the name was now changed to Emmet. Marvin and Roosevelt, Harry Hooker dropping out.
But law work was never able to hold Roosevelt's imagination, and he cast about for something that would at once be more interesting and more lucrative. His good friend Van Lear Black had a suggestion. The Fidelity and Deposit Company of Baltimore was thinking of opening a New York office. Black thought that Franklin Roosevelt would be a good man to head it: his executive ability had been proven in the Navy Department and his connections would be invaluable in bringing in new business. So Franklin became a vice-president after all — of the Fidelity at a salary of $25,000 a year.
July in New York was particularly disagreeable that year of 1921. The sky hung low with the heat haze and the muggy air dripped with humidity. On July 30, Van Lear Black's graceful yacht Sabalo anchored off the New York Yacht Club dock. Her owner's first concern was to call on his new business associate.
"How are things going, Frank?"
The vice-president blew cigarette smoke at the ceiling and grinned. "Fine. Van. We've got a lot of new accounts. I'll bet our turnover will be half a million within a year."
"That's great," said Van. "I knew you'd be good. But, say you're looking pretty peaked. Working too hard?"
"It has been a bit strenuous," Franklin admitted. "First unscrambling the navy, then the campaign, and now two jobs at once. Still. I'm doing all right."
"You don't look it," Black said bluntly. "How about coming with me for a cruise in Sabalo?"
Franklin's eyes became as blue as though they were reflecting the wide sea on which his imagination dwelt.
"That sounds grand," he said, "but I don't know that I should leave things here quite yet."
"You'll be no good to us if you get sick." Van pointed out. "Come along Boss's orders."'
Roosevelt laughed. "Where are we going?" he asked.
"I don't know." Black admitted. "Anywhere is good, so long as you're on a boat."
"You said it?" Franklin exclaimed. "But how about going up to Campo and staying with us there?"
"Dandy!" said Van. "I'd love to see your earthly paradise, and it will be somewhere to go. We'll sail tomorrow about five."
Van Lear Black and his party stayed for several days at Campobello, and the island was engulfed in gaiety. When they sailed away, Franklin turned to his children who were waving from the dock.
"Tomorrow we'll have a picnic," he said, "and the next day we're going off on that camping trip we've talked about so long."
The next day, August 10, 1921, the whole family went out in the Vireo, a small sloop Franklin had bought to teach his sons to sail. On the way home James spotted a thin column of smoke rising from a little island off Campobello. It fattened as they watched it.
"Forest fire," Franklin said. "Ready about!"
He put the helm down and Vireo tacked and headed for the smoke. They made her fast to a jutting rock and scrambled ashore through shallow water, carrying a broom, shovels, and boat cushions to beat out the flames.
It was a brisk two hours' work. By the time the woods were safe, all the Roosevelts were dripping with sweat and grimy with smoke. Eleanor looked as though she were made up for a minstrel show, and Franklin's handsome face was streaked black and white. The boys were unbelievably dirty.
Vireo got home fast down the wind. They stowed the sails and hurried ashore.
"Who's for a swim in Lake Glen Severn?" asked Franklin.
Everybody was, except Eleanor.
"I'll race you across the island!" Franklin shouted. "Last one in's a rotten egg!"
His long legs carried him to an easy victory. Never pausing, he went headfirst into the landlocked lake. Four splashes followed him; little Johnny was inevitably the rotten egg. They had great sport in the water, and then ran back.
"Let's take one dive in the bay," Elliott suggested.
"O.K., but only one. It will be awfully cold."
Fundy was cold. Freezing! The chill seemed to strike right into Franklin's liver. He got out quickly and, calling the boys, ran to the house. The muscles of his legs felt sore; he hadn't thought he had gotten that soft in New York.
The mailboat was in and a stack of letters lay waiting. Franklin picked them up, saw several important letters, and dropped into a veranda chair to read them. There was a long one from the Fidelity — things were going well, but his advice was needed. Then came another from Marvin. Franklin shivered a little as the wind blew cold on his wet bathing suit, and sniffled, but kept on reading.
A violent sneeze broke his concentration, and he realized that he was shaking with cold. He got to his feet feeling suddenly sick, and started inside. At the foot of the stairs he saw Eleanor.
"You look blue, Franklin," she said. "Get out: of that wet suit."
"I seem to have a chill," Franklin muttered between clicking teeth. "Guess I'll go to bed with a hot drink and let you send my dinner up."
"That's a good idea," Eleanor agreed.
Franklin, Jr., hurtled down the stairs.
"Is Pops sick?" he asked anxiously.
"He thinks he may have caught cold," Eleanor answered.
"You'll be all right for the camping trip, won't you?"
Franklin leaned over the banister.
"Sure I'll be all right Frankie. It'll take more than a little cold to stop me."
The next day he was really ill: a high temperature and aches in every joint. It felt like influenza, and Eleanor sent for their old friend Dr. Bennett, from Lubec. He decided that Franklin had a bad cold. The children were sent off on the camping trip in charge of Mrs. Sidney Sherwood and Mrs. Louis Howe, who was staying at the house with her young son. Eleanor settled down for a spell of nursing.
Franklin woke very early the next morning, feeling terribly ill. His head was hot, and his back and legs ached deep in the bones. Languidly he got up and went to the bathroom. It was surprising how weak he felt. As he started back for bed, one leg gave way quite suddenly and he fell to the floor. He called to Eleanor who helped him to get up and stagger back to bed. Then she sent for Dr. Bennett again.
This time he looked very anxious. It could be a chill accompanied by a partial collapse, he said. It might be an acute form of rheumatism. But the spinal cord seemed to be affected. That was grave indeed, suggesting the possibility of meningitis. There was even an outside chance that it was poliomyelitis.
"Infantile?" asked Franklin incredulously. "Could I get a baby disease like that?"
"It's possible," said Dr. Bennett, "though extremely unlikely. I should like to have a consultation."
Louis Howe arrived from Washington, his face drawn into yet more saturnine lines by worry. He found that Dr. W. W. Keen was at Bar Harbor and would come over. Next day Louis and the Roosevelts' old island friend Captain Calder went to the mainland to fetch him.
Old Dr. Keen was baffled too Certainly it was some form of paralysis, possibly polio. But, if so it was fantastically bad luck for a man of thirty-nine. They could only wait and see. He recommended massage and careful nursing. There was no nurse on the island, but Eleanor was good at it by now. She slept on a couch in her husband's room and was never beyond the reach of his voice. Louis was completely devoted. Day by day and night by night he read aloud to Franklin, helping to ease the long hours along.
"Shouldn't you go down to New York and start on your new job?" Eleanor asked him.
"I've given up the job." said Louis "Franklin needs me."
The days passed like worms crawling. Franklin was getting worse, no matter how hard he tried to kid himself. His legs were utterly useless now, and the paralysis crept upward. His neck became stiff and his arms showed loss of control. Worst of all his bladder became paralyzed, and relieving it artificially was an acutely painful process several times a day. Always there was pain, deep in his back and legs, like a toothache through his whole body, and his muscles were like raw exposed nerves, so that the slightest touch was anguish.
The children came back from camp, but Eleanor dared not let them see Pops.
Though he seemed to be quite literally dying by inches, Franklin did not lose his nerve. He refused to allow anyone to send word to his mother, who was in Europe; but he did let Eleanor telephone his uncle, Frederic Delano.
"Get Lovett," said Uncle Fred. "He's the best man in the country — Robert S. Lovett. He's in Newport."
Dr. Lovett was, in fact, the leading polio specialist of the world. He gave up his vacation to come to Campobello. As he made his examination, his face was grim. Franklin, anxiously watching, knew the verdict even before it was pronounced.
"Let's have it," he said.
"It's undoubtedly polio," Dr. Lovett asserted.
Franklin had braced himself for the shock and even managed a smile.
"I thought so," he said.
"What about the children?" Eleanor asked in a sudden panic.
"If they haven't shown signs of it by now, they probably won't get it," Dr. Lovett said calmly. "We don't know much about this thing; it strikes mysteriously. I always change my clothes before I see my grandchildren, but I doubt if it makes any difference."
"I'm glad the children seem to have escaped," Franklin said. "What are my chances?"
"You probably won't die." the doctor answered, "though it's a miracle your lungs are not affected. It's impossible to say if you'll get well."
"You can't tell me a child's disease can lick a grown man," Franklin said. "I'll beat this thing."
That was big talk, but Franklin knew it was easier to keep your nerve if you kept talking. Easier with strangers like Dr. Lovett than with Eleanor and Louis. Hardest of all when you were alone. But if you lost your nerve you were through; the thing would get you down and you'd never come up again. If you let imagination play with the smiling active world that was beyond the impenetrable window of your room, that would sink you in self-pity. You couldn't stop thinking, of course; impossible to turn off the mind like one of those new radios. But you could direct it. There were a lot of things to think about besides yourself, and they were really more interesting. There was all of history and the things that might be learned from it; polities, too, and the technique of the masters of that craft There were people, all those people in the world who were insecure, ill - nourished and ill-clad, cheated by circumstances or the stupidity and cupidity of men out of their birthright. If such things had to be, you might accept it and offer such palliatives as you could. But they weren't inevitable, and that made them an outrage against humanity.
Thinking hard about these things, to avoid thinking about himself, Franklin saw that the trouble was that technical progress in science and industry had so far outstripped progress in the fields of economics and government. They must catch up; man must learn how to use the beautiful intricate tools he had invented. It was not a thing that could be done in a moment; scientific progress was the result of infinite, painstaking research. The new technique of government must be learned in the same way. That was where he could turn to account these wasted days, he could at least make a start on the long road to mastery of that necessary new technique. And the way to learn was by analyzing the old mistakes. He sent for books, had Louis comb the libraries of his friends in Campobello.
So, while he lay in that hiatus of uncertainty, Franklin still had a sense of going forward. When this thing had passed, he would be better fitted for the role he proposed to play. He never admitted, even to himself, that he might never be able to enter the political arena again; he would not admit it even though he often had to slam the door of his mind in the face of doubt. He read until his eyes were sore, damning the aches that would distract his mind; and Louis read aloud until he lost his voice....
From the day of Louis Howe's arrival at Campobello, he went to work to keep this misfortune from becoming a catastrophe. First came the matter of the press: the delicate question of how Roosevelt's illness should be presented to the public. The island and Eastport. Maine, across the bay, were seething with rumors. Reporters were inquiring. Something had to be done fast.
Louis sent out reports that Roosevelt had a heavy cold, was threatened with pneumonia.
"Why not the truth?" asked Eleanor.
"Because," Louis explained, "the word paralysis has dire implications. There might be confusion in the public thought with meningitis; intimations that Franklin's mind had been affected. It is something that he will have to fight for the rest of his life; but we can hold it to a minimum now. We must not let the public hear that word 'paralysis' until they can see him sane and smiling, as he is. It would be easy to create an impression that would wreck his political career."
"Do you think he still has one?" Eleanor asked.
Louis answered with the fervor of an early Christian affirming his faith: "I believe he will be President."
Publication Date: January 11, 1947