went through the nation, state by state, predicting how each one would go. He was right on eight out of ten. But he did not reveal this detailed bit of prophecy to the press. In their mood, it would have only made him the butt of more ridicule. When the reporters asked him if he thought he was winning, he would reply, “That’s your job. That’s what you’re along for. I am the candidate. The candidate is not going to comment. He’s optimistic.”
In the closing days of the campaign, the crowds grew from large to stupendous. In Chicago, they swarmed around our motorcade, slowing it to a crawl and almost giving the Secret Service men apoplexy. The Chicago Democratic organization pulled out every political stop known to man. The coup de grâce, as far as I was concerned, was a fireworks display which went off just as we were crossing a bridge. I hate noises. I thought the bridge was coming down. Above us, a tremendous series of explosions created a fiery image of the candidate. As an old artillery captain from World War I, Dad was not bothered in the least - in fact, he loved every bang.
From the Blackstone Hotel Dad told his sister Mary that “former Mayor Kelly and the present Mayor Kennelly . . . both said that the demonstration was better than any ever held here. . . .”
In Boston, the crowds literally engulfed us. Police estimated that 250,000 people stormed the parade route. Crowds were equally - or proportionately - huge along the line of a motor tour we took of the Bay State’s industrial cities. In Albany, New York, thousands stood in the pouring rain to hear Dad speak.
In New York City, the crowds were huge but the Democratic Party was practically inert. It did not have enough money to rent Madison Square Garden, and the tiny Liberal party had to bail them out. Even with this help, the Wallace influence was still so strong among the liberals that they were able to sell only 10 percent of the tickets for Dad’s Garden appearance. So they threw the doors open and let anyone who followed our motorcade inside, ticket-holder or not. A crowd of about 16,000 cheered when Dad came out for “a strong, prosperous, free, and independent” Israel and roared with laughter when he told them how he had complained to Dr. Graham that he had the constant feeling somebody was following him. Dr. Graham told him not to worry about it. “There is one place where that fellow is not going to follow you - and that’s in the White House.”
By now, more than a few New Dealers were returning to the fold, just as my father had predicted they would. Harold Ickes, whom my father had fired as Secretary of the Interior in 1946, endorsed him and described Dewey as “the candidate in sneakers. . . . For unity, Alice in Wonderland and Grimm’s Fairy Tales, to say nothing of home and mother.” Hollywood, where Wallace influence had been strong, suddenly produced and distributed for free a campaign film urging voters to support the President. They charged the Republicans $30,000 to make a similar film.
Eleanor Roosevelt made a six-minute pro-Truman address from Paris via shortwave radio. Mrs. Roosevelt, after some early hesitation - she conspicuously declined to support Dad during the draft-Eisenhower embroglio - became a staunch pro-Truman Democrat once she saw Dad’s fighting campaign. She did her utmost to persuade her sons to join her, in vain. At one point, she had a meeting with Jimmy, Franklin, and Elliott, and they had a long telephone talk with Dad. With great exasperation, she told him that she could not do anything with her three sons - but she was ready to go all out for a Truman victory.
We ended the campaign in St. Louis. En route from New York, all of the speechwriters got together and pooled what they called “their gems” - their best and brightest phrases - and poured them into a speech that they considered the campaign’s masterpiece. Meanwhile my father, for the first time, showed he was at least capable of
In the closing days of the campaign, the crowds grew from large to stupendous. In Chicago, they swarmed around our motorcade, slowing it to a crawl and almost giving the Secret Service men apoplexy. The Chicago Democratic organization pulled out every political stop known to man. The coup de grâce, as far as I was concerned, was a fireworks display which went off just as we were crossing a bridge. I hate noises. I thought the bridge was coming down. Above us, a tremendous series of explosions created a fiery image of the candidate. As an old artillery captain from World War I, Dad was not bothered in the least - in fact, he loved every bang.
From the Blackstone Hotel Dad told his sister Mary that “former Mayor Kelly and the present Mayor Kennelly . . . both said that the demonstration was better than any ever held here. . . .”
In Boston, the crowds literally engulfed us. Police estimated that 250,000 people stormed the parade route. Crowds were equally - or proportionately - huge along the line of a motor tour we took of the Bay State’s industrial cities. In Albany, New York, thousands stood in the pouring rain to hear Dad speak.
In New York City, the crowds were huge but the Democratic Party was practically inert. It did not have enough money to rent Madison Square Garden, and the tiny Liberal party had to bail them out. Even with this help, the Wallace influence was still so strong among the liberals that they were able to sell only 10 percent of the tickets for Dad’s Garden appearance. So they threw the doors open and let anyone who followed our motorcade inside, ticket-holder or not. A crowd of about 16,000 cheered when Dad came out for “a strong, prosperous, free, and independent” Israel and roared with laughter when he told them how he had complained to Dr. Graham that he had the constant feeling somebody was following him. Dr. Graham told him not to worry about it. “There is one place where that fellow is not going to follow you - and that’s in the White House.”
By now, more than a few New Dealers were returning to the fold, just as my father had predicted they would. Harold Ickes, whom my father had fired as Secretary of the Interior in 1946, endorsed him and described Dewey as “the candidate in sneakers. . . . For unity, Alice in Wonderland and Grimm’s Fairy Tales, to say nothing of home and mother.” Hollywood, where Wallace influence had been strong, suddenly produced and distributed for free a campaign film urging voters to support the President. They charged the Republicans $30,000 to make a similar film.
Eleanor Roosevelt made a six-minute pro-Truman address from Paris via shortwave radio. Mrs. Roosevelt, after some early hesitation - she conspicuously declined to support Dad during the draft-Eisenhower embroglio - became a staunch pro-Truman Democrat once she saw Dad’s fighting campaign. She did her utmost to persuade her sons to join her, in vain. At one point, she had a meeting with Jimmy, Franklin, and Elliott, and they had a long telephone talk with Dad. With great exasperation, she told him that she could not do anything with her three sons - but she was ready to go all out for a Truman victory.
We ended the campaign in St. Louis. En route from New York, all of the speechwriters got together and pooled what they called “their gems” - their best and brightest phrases - and poured them into a speech that they considered the campaign’s masterpiece. Meanwhile my father, for the first time, showed he was at least capable of
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