Roosevelt Myth - John T. Flynn

Politics, Disease and History

When Roosevelt returned from Teheran and Cairo it was not a return from the old world to the new; it was as if he had opened a door and put his foot upon the first step of that dim flight that leads from this world into the next. He went, as was his custom, to Hyde Park for the Christmas holidays. There he contracted an illness the precise nature of which we do not yet know. Admiral Ross T. McIntire, the President's physician, says it was an influenza which left an irritating bronchial inflammation causing coughing spells that racked him and that he showed a definite loss of his usual ability to come back. In the new year he returned to Washington, but this bronchial irritation hung on and by April it was necessary to take him South into the sunshine, from which he did not return until May 10.

In June the long-awaited invasion of the continent was launched. With this we will not concern ourselves. The other subject that occupied Roosevelt's mind was his plan to have himself renominated for a fourth time.

The President had lost his head, at least a little. Congress was slipping away from him. A growing section of his party, particularly in the Senate, was moving out of that collection of incongruous elements called the Third New Deal. It was crawling with Reds and their gullible allies who got themselves into key positions in all the bureaus and were talking with great assurance about what they were going to do with America and the world. The Communists had all become anti-fascists and everybody who was against the Communists was, therefore, a fascist. A group of organizations financed by undisclosed benefactors was riding roughshod through the country smearing everybody who questioned the grandiose plans of the Great Leader for remaking America and the world. Nobody was getting a hotter dose of this smearing than the American Congress. The radio and the frightened press and magazines kept up a barrage against the members of the President's own party in both houses.

As a result the breach between the President and Congress was widening. It came to a head in February when Congress rejected Roosevelt's demand for a $10,500,000,000 tax boost and cut it to $2,300,000,000. Roosevelt vetoed it. He sent a sizzling message impugning the good faith of Congress and saying this was a "bill not for relief of the needy but of the greedy." It was a Democratic bill and the blast that exploded in his face brought him up with a jerk.

In the upper house, Senator Barkley, Democratic leader, Roosevelt's own representative there, rose to upbraid him. He said the message was "a calculated and deliberate assault upon the legislative integrity of every member of Congress." He cried: "I do not propose to take it lying down," as Democratic and Republican senators united in a roar of applause. He ended his philippic with an announcement that made big black headlines in every paper in the country. He declared that after seven years of carrying the New Deal banner for the President, he now resigned his post as Democratic majority leader and he called on every member of the Congress to preserve its self-respect and override the veto. The Senate overrode it 72 to 14) ?> and the House 299 to 95. It brought Roosevelt tumbling off his high horse. He sent Steve Early running to Barkley's home that very night to beg him not to quit. Barkley yielded.

But something else was afoot. Roosevelt was giving what was left of his dwindling energies to the plan for a fourth nomination. In 1936, Garner had said to his intimates: Roosevelt will run for a third term and a fourth term. He will never leave the White House unless he is removed by death or defeat. And he was at this very moment concerned with the problem of frustrating both these enemies. He was a sick man but still clutching for the power that had become a part of his being. The Empress Theodora, wife of Justinian, said: "We must all die some time, but it is a terrible thing to have been an Emperor and to give up Empire before one dies."

Roosevelt had no intention of giving up his power. Yet before him lay some of the most imposing problems of the war and the peace, to be solved against the stubborn resistance of a man of iron. He proposed to solve them by matching his fading energies and his weary mind against the resolute and confident realist in the Kremlin, limited by no laws, restrained by no parliament, responsible to no master but himself, without pity and without remorse.

The full story of Roosevelt's physical condition must be frankly examined. He was beyond doubt a man of naturally robust constitution united to a buoyant temperament. His affliction had deprived him of the use of his limbs but beyond that had apparently no other effect upon his general health save the extent to which it deprived him of the means of the physical activity necessary to continuous good health. He was addicted to colds and his associates in Washington soon noticed that an ordinary cold had a way of flooring him quite, but that he could come back quickly. Jim Farley wrote in his diary as early as 1935 that "the President looked bad, suffering from a cold, face drawn and his reactions slow," and he felt that the strain of office was showing on him even at that early day. In 1937 he visited the President in his bedroom and was "shocked at the President's appearance"—his color bad, his face lined like a man worn out.

Farley was so concerned that he went to Dr. Cary T. Grayson, who had been Wilson's physician and had recommended to the President Dr. Ross T. McIntire as his physician. Grayson was already aware of Roosevelt's condition and said he was in daily contact with Jimmy Roosevelt about it. Farley got the impression from Grayson that there was something the matter with Roosevelt's heart and that it might become serious and urged that a good doctor be called into consultation. Grayson agreed, but felt it should be "one who would not talk."

In 1940, Edward J. Flynn said it was obvious to him that "the President's health was beginning to suffer . . . He was no longer young and he lacked some of the early resilience and power of quick reaction he once had." This was the observation of a man who was close to him and saw him often. In 1940 when the President was discussing with Farley a possible vice-presidential candidate, he said to the Democratic chairman that the man named on the ticket with him would have to be in good health because there was no telling how long he could hold out. "You know," he said, "a man with paralysis can have a break-up any time." He said his vital organs were all right but that nothing in life was certain. And to point this up he opened his shirt and showed Farley a large growth of flesh and muscle under his arm caused by his affliction.

He was three years older when he went to Teheran—61 years of age—and the youngest of the three men who conferred there. Churchill was 69 and Stalin was 64. But Roosevelt was biologically in every way the oldest of the three and he looked it. He met Chiang Kai-shek and Madame Chiang at Cairo just before Teheran. Afterward she said "she was shocked by the President's looks during the Cairo conference. She thought he had fallen off considerably and looked quite ill." Churchill too was reported to have said he noted signs of deterioration in the President. Admiral McIntire, the President's doctor, was annoyed by these reports. He completely disagreed with them.

Despite the doctor's complacence, Roosevelt was unable to throw off the bronchitis which followed the influenza attack at Hyde Park. He was up one day, says McIntire, and down the next. When he got back to Washington two specialists were called in. They found "a moderate degree of arteriosclerosis." McIntire says it was "no more than normal in a man his age." They found some changes in the cardiographic tracings, cloudiness in the sinus and bronchial irritation. The President saw fewer people and for some reason rumors began to circulate. The press asked the Admiral about it. He said it was just a residual bronchitis; "he is feeling quite well." But apparently he was not, for very soon thereafter, on April 8, he left Washington for Bernard Baruch's plantation in South Carolina. He did not return until May 10. It was hoped seclusion from the pressures of his office and exposure to the Southern sun would bring him around. He did nothing but rest, sleep and fish in the sun.

However, five doctors were called in to aid the sun. Admiral McIntire gives a sample report on the President's physical examination there. But he omits the blood pressure and nowhere do they say exactly what the President had at Hyde Park or how it all started. There were reports going about Washington that the President had had some sort of stroke—perhaps a mild one—after returning from Teheran. Dr. McIntire says this was not true. But in spite of his apparently blanket statements, his book leaves the subject still open. He unconsciously makes a grave revelation without intending to in his account of these days.

McIntire was a naval doctor in 1932 and was recommended to Roosevelt as White House physician by Admiral Grayson. McIntire was an eye, ear and nose specialist. He got along famously with Roosevelt, was elevated by him to the grade of admiral and made head of the Naval Hospital Service. What his capabilities as a doctor may be I do not know, but he reveals himself in the volume which recounts his White House experiences as a complete servitor of Roosevelt, laughing at his jokes, swallowing his stories and accepting Roosevelt's own exalted opinion of himself at face value. Any suggestion that the President was not in excellent health he seemed to look upon as some sort of offense against the Republic.

In spite of the care he has exercised to give the President a good bill of health he unwittingly reveals what the President's real condition was. When rumors multiplied about the President's long ailment from Christmas to May—four months recovering from a case of bronchitis—McIntire, after bringing five specialists in to examine his patient, decided to bring in two more—Drs. James E. Paullin of Atlanta and Frank Lahey of Boston. But all he reports as to their findings is that they declared Roosevelt had recovered from infection of sinus and chest and was "well and active." Then Dr. Paullin talked to Roosevelt and reminded him he was like an old motor, that his heart and arteries were like the engine and the tires and that if he wanted to finish the journey he would have to slow down—he would have to live within his reserves. Then a regimen was outlined for the President—and this tells the whole story.

He was to have breakfast from 8:30 to 9:00; office hours from 11:00 to 1:00; from 1:00 to 2:00 luncheon, but no business guests; 2:00 to 3:00 rest lying down; 3:00 to 5:00 office hours; then 45 minutes massage and ultra-violet rays and rest lying down until 7:30; 7:30 to 8:00, dinner in quarters; no night work and sleep for 10 hours. This was to be the President's schedule and the important part about it was that he was to go on the FOUR-HOUR DAY. His working hours were from 11:00 to 1:00 and from 3:00 to 5:00, the balance of the 24 hours were for resting, lying down, getting massaged, eating his meals and sleeping. This was the condition they gave him if he wanted to finish the journey. This was not a program for a period of convalescence. It was literally a program for "the rest of the journey." The doctors were telling him as plainly as words that the only way he could avert death was to go into a form of semi-retirement.

Thus once again the problem of disease entangled itself in the making of history. The vast war powers of the most powerful nation in the world were concentrated in the hands of one man. The decisions of that one man would affect our destiny, the security of our institutions and the peace of the world. These decisions were in the hands of a sick man, whose mind was trudging along in low gear, whose physical organisms were disintegrating under the impact of disease and whose mental and moral faculties were deteriorating under the impact of power.

It had happened after the First World War when the President was stricken by a brain hemorrhage that paralyzed his body and impaired his mind and, worse than this, disturbed his normal mental balance. What might have been the course of history had Woodrow Wilson's mental and physical powers survived must be a matter of speculation. Those who may be interested in the subject of disease as a factor in human affairs may want to look into those two brilliantly written little volumes, "Post Mortem" and "Mere Mortals" by Dr. C. MacLaurin in which he pursues these ravages of disease in monarchs and statesmen and the costs passed on to the populations they ruled.

What would have happened in Europe, for instance, if Henry VIII had not had syphilis? It was Henry's syphilis that made it impossible for Catherine of Aragon to bear him a living child, save the solemn Mary, and from whom, after seven or eight miscarriages he secured a divorce. This caused his break with Rome and a whole train of consequences which, says Dr. MacLaurin, a good modern surgeon might have avoided and thus changed the course of history.

Arteriosclerosis and its somber effects upon the mind and nature of Charles V led him to retire at 52 in favor of his son Phillip, when perhaps the curative and moderating techniques of modern medicine might have preserved his genius as the ruling force in Spain and saved her from the disasters which overtook her under Phillip. When we consider, says Dr. MacLaurin,

". . . that the destinies of nations are commonly held in the hands of elderly gentlemen whose blood pressures tend to be too high owing to their fierce political activities, it is not too much to say that arteriosclerosis is one of the greatest tragedies that afflict the human race. Every politician should have his blood pressure tested and his urine examined about once in a quarter, and if it should show signs of rising he should undoubtedly take a long rest until it falls again; it is not fair that the lives of millions should depend upon the judgment of a man whose mind is warped by arteriosclerosis."

There were plenty of examinations of Roosevelt made during all this time, but the people of the United States did not know what they revealed—and do not know fully yet. The necessity of rest was imposed upon Roosevelt by the doctors called in to examine him. It was observed throughout the year 1944 that he spent 200 days outside the White House in rest or travel which, save in the brief campaign tours, was undertaken for his health. Dr. McIntire makes much of the many miles he traveled, as if this were some terrible strain upon him. Most of them were miles of leisure in the sun aboard luxurious vessels or trains. The doctor admits they always benefited him. But the people were never told that they had in their service an executive whose doctors said he could not take more than four hours a day of work and who must spend most of the day and night lying down resting and sleeping.

After Roosevelt returned to the White House in the middle of May, the chief item of business was managing his nomination for a fourth term at the Democratic convention which would meet in two months. That was simple enough, but, like the third nomination, had to bear the marks of a command from the people. To understand that convention we must recall an incident of the greatest importance.

We have seen how the Communist party had successfully penetrated the unions organized by the Congress of Industrial Organizations—the CIO—and how John L. Lewis and David Dubinsky had got out of it for this reason, leaving Sidney Hillman in complete control. We have also seen how the war brought Hillman to the top in White House circles when he and William Knudsen became the directors of the economic war effort. Knudsen departed in good time, but Hillman remained close to the White House.

Meantime on a neighboring social front certain changes were taking place. By 1943, Earl Browder, Communist leader, had about completed the discovery that there was no hope for a proletarian revolution in America. The party got nowhere preaching Communism. The people just wouldn't listen. But it learned that it could get very far by using a different technique. After all, Communist revolutionaries know that before they can introduce Communism they must destroy the political and economic system of the country in which they conspire. Wreck the American system of free enterprise and kill the confidence of the people in their political system and it will collapse. Once this takes place in any country it is not difficult for the Communist to move in. He is willing to support and promote the rise of fascist states because he knows that fascism— the Planned Capitalist Economy—is merely a decadent phase of capitalism. For this reason the Communist party had been promoting with great success Red-front organizations and inducing the most important people, like Mrs. Roosevelt, Henry Wallace and scores of prominent leaders in education and public life, to work with them.

As 1944 opened, Browder decided to liquidate the Communist party. It would go out of politics. It would become a mere educational association. This was done, and Browder and Sidney Hillman teamed up to capture the American Labor Party. This had been formed originally in New York City to provide a political vehicle for Fiorello LaGuardia in his local politics. It had all sorts of people in it. There were a lot of Reds, a lot of socialists and a lot of parlor and campus pinks of all sorts, plus a lot of social reformers and welfare reformers. It had corralled a lot of votes—enough to swing an election in New York State—by giving or withholding its vote from the Democrats. It supported Lehman in 1940 and elected him on the Democratic ticket. It refused to endorse the Democratic candidate, Bennett, for governor in 1942 and the Democratic vote, without it, was insufficient and thus Dewey became governor. Now Browder and Hillman joined forces and decided to take over the American Labor Party. They met resistance from the mixed collection of pinks who had control, but in a bitter battle Browder and Hillman took it over. Actually Browder dominated this team because it was Communist votes that did the trick.

In addition to this, Hillman had organized in 1943 a new political labor group called the CIO Political Action Committee. The CIO had violated the law by supporting candidates in various primary elections and to get around this Hillman formed this Political Action Committee and pressure was put on members of CIO unions to compel them to join. This organization was now being used as a club in the Democratic party to bludgeon Democratic congressmen and officials generally to play ball with Hillman, Wallace and their crowd, while Hillman and Browder did business as a team in New York State in the newly re-formed Communist American Labor Party.

The Democratic party could win if it could carry the Southern states and in addition New York, Massachusetts, Illinois, Michigan and New Jersey. These states could be carried with the support of Sidney Hillman's Political Action Committee and Browder's American Labor Party, but not without them and Roosevelt was the only possible candidate who could get this support. The Democrats had to nominate Roosevelt or lose the election. There were some Democrats who thought it was better to lose the election, but not enough of them. Accordingly when the convention assembled in Chicago on July 19, Sidney Hillman was there, not as a delegate—he was not even a member of the party—but to see that the subservient Democrats behaved to his satisfaction and to the satisfaction of his friend and partner, Browder. To this pass had Roosevelt's personal political ambitions brought the Democratic party of Jefferson, Cleveland and Wilson. Hillman had a headquarters there. He wasn't worried about Roosevelt's nomination. That was settled. He wasn't worried about the platform. That was written to his satisfaction before the convention assembled by Sam Rosenman. He had one more demand. He wanted Henry Wallace nominated again for Vice-President.

But the nomination for Vice-President, this time, was perhaps the great prize itself. Leaders in Washington had a feeling that Roosevelt's health was not all it should be. But the fact is that the truth about his health was concealed not merely from the people but from the Democratic leaders. It must be remembered that they had seen very little of him since his return from Teheran. He had been hidden away first at Hyde Park and at the White House where he had few visitors and finally at Baruch's place in South Carolina until two months before the convention. Every effort was made to prevent the facts from leaking out. The Democratic leaders had been accustomed to see Roosevelt become suddenly weary and ill and then bounce back quickly and look well after a few days in the sunlight. But this time he didn't bounce back. However, the public was told that he did after his sojourn in the South. Meantime the Democratic leaders had drifted along in an incredible state of negligence with respect to the problem before them. But those around the White House close to Roosevelt knew better. Harry Hopkins and Henry Wallace and, of course, Sidney Hillman knew. They knew that Roosevelt was doomed and that if they could name Henry Wallace Vice-President this time, the government would be in their hands.

Accordingly, Hillman and Wallace used the immense power they had by virtue of their control over large minorities in the big industrial states to push the movement for Wallace's renomination. After all, he was then already Vice-President. Wallace saw Roosevelt three times on the subject and Roosevelt agreed to give him a letter which they discussed and which Wallace felt would settle the matter at the convention. There was much newspaper speculation about the nature of this letter before the convention convened. And when the convention did convene, the vice-presidency and Roosevelt's expected letter were the big subjects in Chicago. Sidney Hillman had his headquarters in a penthouse on top of a Chicago hotel and from that point the drive for Wallace was managed.

Wallace's supporters, as the convention opened, said they knew exactly what the President would say in the expected letter and they were satisfied. Senator Joe Guffey said exultantly "Wait until you see the letter." There were other candidates for the post—former Senator James Byrnes, Senator Barkley, while the names of Justice William O. Douglas and Senator Harry Truman were being prominently mentioned. However, no one had any delegates but Wallace and he was known to have 300 at least. The others had their home states and little else. It was plain that if Roosevelt said he wanted Wallace no one else had a chance. Until Roosevelt's letter was received, therefore, the other candidates were handicapped. Roosevelt could not win without Sidney Hillman and Earl Browder and they wanted Wallace. Hillman said "We have no second choice."

Former Justice James F, Byrnes, at that moment serving in a post that was called "Assistant President" with an office in the White House, was an active candidate, as was Senate Majority Leader Alben Barkley. Byrnes was easily the ablest man in the race. It was supposed by those in the know that had the convention been completely free he would have been nominated. Barkley believed that he could win in a free contest. Because of the close association of Byrnes with the President, few believed that he would be an active candidate without the President's approval.

But Chicago had a visitor about whom nothing was known until later. On the evening of July 14, Roosevelt left Washington with great secrecy on a special train. It reached Chicago on Saturday, the 15th. That same day, Robert E. Hannegan, Democratic national chairman, got to Chicago. Reporters awaited him at the station. But he slipped out through a rear door of his train and into Mayor Kelly's police-escorted automobile and vanished. Reporters frantically hunted him all over town. He remained out of sight until the next day. But in the meantime he had made a visit to Roosevelt's train, secretly parked on a remote railroad siding. There poor Wallace's goose was cooked. Hannegan, too, got a letter. It said the President would be happy to have either Harry Truman or William Douglas as his running mate. And as Hannegan was leaving the train, Roosevelt warned him "to clear everything with Sidney." The Presidential approval of Truman was no good until Sidney O.K.'ed it.

However, the letter for Wallace was not yet delivered. It was delivered Wednesday, the 19th. It was then conveyed from the President to Senator Jackson, temporary chairman of the convention, and read to the delegates. In the letter Roosevelt said he wanted to give his personal "thought in regard to the selection of; a candidate for the Vice-Presidency." The letter continued:

"I have been associated with Henry Wallace during the past four years as Vice-President, for eight years earlier while he was Secretary of Agriculture and well before that. I like him and I respect him and he is my personal friend. For these reasons I personally would vote for his nomination if I were a delegate to the convention."

The letter was a terrible blow to the Wallace camp, said the New York Times. Wallace was hastily summoned by his managers to hurry to Chicago. Was this the radiant endorsement about which Senator Guffey was so exultant? The convention at once took the letter as letting Wallace down. All the other candidates for Vice-President went to work with a will. But they all knew by this what Hannegan had been told—"to clear everything with Sidney." To Hillman's penthouse headquarters tramped the long line of candidates and their managers.

When approached about Byrnes, Hillman turned thumbs down. He said "no" with final emphasis. Then the President got word to Byrnes to withdraw. He did so, saying he was withdrawing at the President's request. That left Barkley in a powerful position. Then Hannegan sprang the Truman letter. That left Barkley out. Barkley was slated to make the speech nominating Roosevelt that afternoon. He was in a room with O. Max Gardner of North Carolina and Jim Farley when he saw a copy of the Truman letter. Barkley knew that settled his hash and that Truman was the man of destiny, because the Douglas endorsement was meaningless. He was indignant. In a burst of righteous wrath he denounced Roosevelt and was about to tear up the nominating speech when Farley and Gardner restrained him. Later in the day he delivered that speech, glowing with an eloquent tribute to the man who, only a few hours before, he believed had double-crossed him. Deep and strong and terrible are the chains of party loyalty. But Barkley had gotten the party all mixed up with Roosevelt so that he could not disentangle them.

Roosevelt, of course, was nominated promptly that day. He had earlier written a letter to Chairman Hannegan saying he did not wish to run, "but if the people command me to continue in this office I have as little right to withdraw as the soldier has to leave his place in the line." He pointed to himself as the commander-in-chief who could not leave his place at the head of his armies unless removed by the people. Roosevelt, of course, had taken no chances on not being "commanded" to continue. The political machine of which he was the master had sent delegates to the convention instructed to issue the necessary "command."

After Roosevelt's nomination was voted, it began to look as if Wallace might break through after all. New York could not get a vote in its delegation for support of Truman. Neither could California or Illinois. To prevent Illinois from breaking away, Ed Kelly, the boss, nominated Senator Scott Lucas of Illinois as a favorite son. Meantime delegation after delegation had been shifting to Wallace. Every hour news came of additions to his supporters. The reports when the convention opened were that he had 300 votes. The number had risen to 400. Delegates were getting irked at the apparent weakness of all other candidates. The opposition to Wallace could not unite. The leaders, giving some excuse, adjourned the convention in an uproar to prevent a vote.

By next day, however, the support of Truman was being consolidated. On the first ballot Wallace led with 429 votes, Truman 319 and the rest scattered among 14 other candidates. But on the second ballot the steam-roller went into play, the switching started and Truman was nominated with 1100 votes to only 66 for Wallace. But not until Sidney Hillman had approved the change.

Roosevelt's stop in Chicago was merely a way station on his way to the Pacific coast. It was, like all his movements, clouded in ostentatious secrecy. While the convention was still in session he accepted the "command." It came over the air from an undisclosed Pacific coast Marine base. He said: "I am now at this naval base performing my duties under the Constitution. The war waits for no elections. Decisions must be made, plans must be laid, strategy must be carried out." This was part of the build-up for the commander-in-chief theme which was to be used to stir the patriotic sentiments of the voters.

Roosevelt by this time had lost all sense of nice and delicate discrimination in his poses. After carefully managing his nomination through the Democratic leaders he could put on an act about running reluctantly, comparing himself to the soldier in the line who could not refuse the call of duty. The more subtle deceptions of his earlier years now gave way to a much cruder hypocrisy. He was on his way to Hawaii, with a six-day trip across the continent in a private luxury train and then a long and glorious sea trip to Hawaii and some other islands. The decisions, of course, could wait on these pleasant tours. He had been away from his duties, save for a few weeks, for the first half of the year.

What essential part in the war was served by reviewing the troops and visiting the hospitals in Hawaii and other islands and entertaining the Pacific commanders with reminiscences of his exploits in World War I? Actually, the trip to the Pacific combined three very useful objectives—the spectacle of the Commander-in-Chief moving about running the war, a grand rest on the ocean voyage and a good chance to make campaign appearances amongst the shipyard workers on the coast and the soldier boys in the islands who would vote in the election. It took him 30 days away from the White House where decisions, if any were necessary, were really made.

However, he made one slip. He was photographed delivering his acceptance speech in a small, severely plain room at some Marine base. He sat at a table with his daughter Anna and his son Jimmy in the foreground. This picture ruined all his elaborate comedy in two particulars. The picture shocked the nation, revealing as it did his emaciated face and body. In addition, the original news photo showed a part of the white uniform of a naval officer. Walter Trohan, Washington correspondent of the Chicago Tribune, one of those newspapermen who are born and not made wondered who he was and why he was there. Trohan went to the Associated Press photo service to see the original. It contained the entire figure of the officer, which had been cut out of the published picture as nonessential. This curious newspaperman took the picture to the Navy Department to identify the officer. He was a Commander Bruenn—a naval doctor. A little more investigation revealed that he was Dr. Howard Bruenn, a heart specialist of Boston who had been inducted into the Navy for the express purpose of remaining constantly on duty to watch the heart of the man who, as Dr. McIntire proclaimed, was in perfect health. He had been with him since his Christmas illness and remained constantly at his side until he died.

Roosevelt at first planned to make no formal campaign. He changed his mind because it did not seem wise to expose himself to the frequent attacks upon his record which his Republican opponent, Thomas E. Dewey, was making. His first speech was not made until September 24 to a dinner given by the International Teamsters' Union dominated by Daniel Tobin—an AFL union. Its purpose was to put some emphasis on the support of the AFL in view of the bitter feeling among AFL leaders because of the dominant role Sidney Hillman's CIO was playing in Roosevelt's councils and particularly in its favored position before Roosevelt's Labor Board. In October he made a speech before the Foreign Policy Association in New York and drove around the city in a rain storm to exhibit his robust health. Then he went on to Boston, making two or three short talks on the way. There is no point here in describing the course of that campaign. He interrupted it for an occasion of far more importance to our story. In September he went to another one of those international conferences, this time at Quebec.