To the Stump

Calm in the assurance of his practiced skill, one of the world's great orators stood beaming on a platform in Syracuse, N. Y.'s armory one evening last week, waiting for some 10,000 Democratic State Convention delegates and visitors to be done with their roars of exuberant anticipation. Many a time, watching a Western cinema, these admiring partisans had yelped with the same emotion as a valiant posse thundered to the rescue of the beleaguered hero. Tonight Franklin Roosevelt was galloping to his own rescue.

"Tonight," his voice rang trumpet-clear through the armory and out by radio to listeners across the land, "you and I join forces for the 1936 campaign."

Red Issue. Two-thirds of Nominee Roosevelt's first frankly political speech indicated that he and his advisers were genuinely alarmed by opposition attempts to pin a Red label on the New Deal (see p. 16). The Democratic Nominee jibed at his critics with a tale of "a nice old gentleman" who was rescued by "a friend" from drowning in 1933, is now berating his friend because his "silk hat was lost."

Not once did Nominee Roosevelt mention his Republican opponent by name. But no listener mistook the object of his mimicry when, toward the end of his speech, he dropped into a mocking sing-song which set his audience howling with delight, declared: "Let me warn you and let me warn the nation against the smooth evasion which says: 'Of course we believe all these things; we believe in social security; we believe in work for the unemployed ; we believe in saving homes. Cross our hearts and hope to die, we believe in all these things; but we do not like the way the present Administration is doing them. Just turn them over to us. We will do all of them--we will do more of them --we will do them better; and, most important of all, the doing of them will not cost anybody anything. . . .'

"You cannot," continued the Nominee, resuming his own inflections, "be an Old Guard Republican in the East and a New Deal Republican in the West. You cannot promise to repeal taxes before one audience and promise to spend more of the taxpayers' money before another audience." Reverting to his original theme, Nominee Roosevelt asked: "Who is there in America who believes that we can run the risk of turning back our government to the old leadership which brought it to the brink of 1933? . . . The most serious threat to our institutions comes from those who refuse to face the need for change. Liberalism becomes the protection for the farsighted conservative."

Franklin Roosevelt had begun to demonstrate his skill as a campaigner as soon as he arrived in Syracuse that afternoon. Syracuse's most popular politician is Republican Mayor Rolland B. Marvin. Democratic Nominee Roosevelt tickled Syracuse's pride, assured bi-partisan applause on his progress through the city's streets by bundling delighted Mayor Marvin into the back seat of his automobile between himself and Governor Lehman. Proceeding to Syracuse University to lay the cornerstone of a new College of Medicine unit, he praised local initiative, deftly reminded his listeners that the new building had been made possible by an $825,000 PWA grant, smilingly observed that he had laid many a cornerstone in the past and that so far as he knew none of the structures had yet collapsed.

Returning to his train after his Convention speech that evening, the Nominee still further endeared himself to Syracusans when he found the local American Legion glee club waiting outside the railroad station for a parting serenade. Halting his automobile, he listened to I'll Be Ready When The Great Day Comes, cried: "I'd like to stay here with you boys all night and sing myself."

"Why don't you, Mr. President?" piped a flattered chorister.

Franklin Roosevelt hopped out of his car with Governor Lehman in tow, planted himself and the Governor in the centre of the chorus, perched Legion caps on both their heads, added his rich baritone to a rendition of There's A Long, Long Trail while photographers' flash bulbs winked (see cut).

Power Peace? Next morning Nominee Roosevelt was back in Washington to become President Roosevelt again for a day.

Due to expire on Election Day is the contract by which TVA has refrained from invading vast Commonwealth & Southern Corp.'s retail power market in the Tennessee Valley. Now in the process of laying duplicating transmission lines and primed to generate 200,000 h. p., TVA is potentially ready to strike at Commonwealth & Southern and other power companies in the neighborhood by absorbing 60% of their market. At stake was also the future of many another private utility company with which the Governments other great power projects are potential competitors.

Last month President Roosevelt calmed the fears of utilities managers and investors by inviting interested power tycoons to confer with him and Federal power officials on a plan whereby Government and Business, instead of engaging in disastrous competition, would pool their resources for cooperative distribution. To the White House last week went Commonwealth & Southern's Wendell Willkie, Georgia Power's Preston Arkwright, Hartford Electric's Samuel Ferguson, General Electric's Owen D. Young, J. P. Morgan's Thomas Lament, to discuss Government and Business joining in a power pool. With TVA's Arthur Morgan and David Lilienthal, Federal Power Commission's Frank R. McNinch and other officials they talked for 90 minutes in the President's office. Only report of the conference was a cautious joint statement by Messrs. Willkie and McNinch which committed neither side to anything but further discussion, suggested that meantime TVA and Commonwealth & Southern might agree to extend their current nonaggression contract. Though doubts, reasonable in view of Franklin Roosevelt's longtime enmity to Private Power, were expressed as to how Iong past election day his conciliatory sentiments might last, at least a start had been made toward solution of a momentous problem.

Spending Issue. Along the Nominee's four-mile route from the railroad station at Pittsburgh to Forbes Field, National League baseball park, wildly cheering crowds were lined so thick that a vanguard of 60 motorcycle policemen had frequently to push a way through the pack. When the Roosevelt procession reached the ball park, every one of its 45,000 seats was taken and some 30,000 other citizens were jammed on the field, in the aisles, outside the gates. Not since he appeared at Philadelphia last June to accept his nomination had newshawks heard anything like the roar which went up as the Nominee was driven slowly around the infield behind an Uncle Sam leading a donkey. Over the grandstands gleamed his floodlighted portrait, 40 ft. high, captioned HE SAVED AMERICA. Exhilarated by this hero's welcome, Franklin Roosevelt mounted a platform over second base to tell Pittsburgh and the nation how he had done it, justify the money it had cost.

To an audience so bent on whooping things up that it cheered almost every sentence, whether applause was indicated or not, the Democratic Nominee cried: "A baseball park is a good place to talk about box scores. . . . Now, when the present management of your team took charge in 1933 the national Scoreboard looked pretty bad. . . . Our national income had declined over 50% . . . from $81,000,000,000 a year to $38,000,000,000 a year. . . . The money to run the Government comes from taxes; and the tax revenue in turn depends for its size on the size of the national income. . . . If the national income continues to decline then the Government cannot run without going into the red. The only way to keep the Government out of the red is to keep the people out of the red. And so we had to balance the budget of the American people before we could balance the budget of the national Government. That makes common sense, doesn't it? . . .

"To balance our budget in 1933 or 1934 or 1935 would have been a crime against the American people. . . .

"All right, my friends, let's look at the cost. . . . President Hoover's Administration increased the debt in the net amount of over $3,000,000,000 in three depression years, and there was little to show for it.

My Administration has increased the national debt in the net amount of $8,000,000,000 and there is much to show for it.

. . . Over a billion and a half went for the payment of the World War Veterans' Bonus. . . . As for the other six and a half billions, we didn't just spend money-- we spent money for something. America got something for what it spent--the conservation of human resources through CCC camps, the works relief, conservation of natural resources of water, soil and forest; billions for security and a better life. . .

"And now one word in closing about this foolish fear about the crushing load the debt will impose on your children and mine. This debt is not going to be paid by oppressive taxation on future generations. It's not going to be paid by taking away the hard-won savings of the present generation. It is going to be paid out of an increased national income and increased individual income produced by increasing national prosperity. . . ."

Seventy-five thousand Pittsburghers roared. Up to the microphones stepped District President Patrick Fagan of United Mine Workers to present, on behalf of the nation's biggest union, a gold medal to "the greatest humanitarian of all time." "Such a medal," declared the recipient, "means a great deal to me away down in my heart." Cheering for that warm heart, the crowd watched Franklin Roosevelt whisked off the field, back to the station to entrain for Manhattan.

Hurrah! From 10 a.m. to 6 p.m. next day Nominee Roosevelt was out of sight & sound of hurrahing throngs for only 45 minutes, during which he lunched with a few intimates at the Biltmore Hotel. First side trip was under the Hudson to grimy Jersey City to lay his second cornerstone of the week, launching a Jersey City Medical Center to be financed by a PWA grant of $5,000,000. Democratic Boss & Mayor Frank Hague had declared a holiday, arranged an imperial welcome. At his behest, 70,000 school children appeared with flags and red, white & blue sashes, lined the streets shrilling: "One, two, three, four. Who are we for--ROOSEVELT!"

There were more crowds, more cheers back in New York City on the way to the Polo Grounds, where the Nominee saw the most remarkable batting spree World Series history (see p. 46). From the Polo Grounds he motored across the East River for still another PWA-financed ceremonial--this time the ground-breaking for a $58,000,000 Queens-Manhattan tunnel. Before he pushed a button to set the first steam shovel in motion, New York's Fusion Mayor LaGuardia handed him a membership card in Local 184 of the International Brotherhood of Engineers & Shovel Runners. The Nominee lost no Labor votes by crying to 25,000 listeners: "That card is an essential part of the ceremony. I wouldn't have started the shovel to work without it."

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