Fortune's Child

When he is in a good mood, New York's Mayor Bill O'Dwyer is the kind of Irishman who can charm a bird down out of a tree. But when the spirit moves him, he can be so bullheaded, blunt-tongued, and bent on the grand, illogical and impolitic gesture, that neither charm, hard work, nor all the other virtues, could be expected to rescue him from the consequences. Irish-born Bill O'Dwyer, who was a bartender, a cop, a district attorney and a brigadier general before becoming mayor, has one great attribute, however--fortune smiles on him.

In his 4 1/2 years as mayor, O'Dwyer has seemed both fascinated and repelled by New York politics and his trying job. He has suffered from nervous exhaustion and heart trouble, has often yearned to pursue his particular hobby--following the trail of the old Spanish conquistadors in Central and South America.* He has also alienated backers and constituents. He opposed doubling the subway fare to 10-c-, before the election, and afterwards, came out for it. He announced that he would not think of running for a second term, and changed his mind at the last minute.

The Tiger's Friend. Just before election day last November, he made public his plans to marry an ex-model, Sloan Simpson. When newspapermen coarsely suggested that his timing might have something to do with getting elected, he gave them all the rough side of his tongue, and, even worse, became a camera dodger.

He also made Harry Truman as sore as a hoptoad in a thumbtack factory by suggesting in 1948 that the Democrats ought to get a better presidential candidate. After Truman was nominated, O'Dwyer gave him the biggest motorcycle escort ever assembled in New York, but the President, though virtually deafened by sirens, did not forgive him.

Bill O'Dwyer was forever denouncing Tammany Hall, which the late Fiorello La Guardia had all but smashed, but when election time came around, he would be found, cozy in the corner of the Tammany tiger. Recently, ex-Cop O'Dwyer disturbed many a New Yorker by denouncing a prosecutor who was investigating crookedness on the police force (TIME, July 31).

At this point it seemed as if O'Dwyer was bent on making enemies damaging to the party and vanishing from public life. But things didn't work out that way at all. A few weeks ago Ed Flynn, the cagey, power-minded Democratic boss of The Bronx, asked himself a very interesting question: "What if O'Dwyer resigned?"

The Democrats' Answer. The answers had a lovely sound. New York would have to hold a special mayoralty election at the same time as the elections for Governor and Senator. The Democrats could undoubtedly put a fresh, cooperative type of mayor into office. Better yet, they would stir up a big city vote, and with Tom Dewey already out of the gubernatorial race, might be able to re-elect Senator Herbert Lehman and put over their whole slate, from Governor on down.

But what was to be done with O'Dwyer? It developed that both the mayor and his handsome young wife would be pleased if he were named Ambassador to Mexico. Flynn headed for the White House, and with Party Boss Bill Boyle, Senator Lehman and White House Handyman Dave Niles, put the proposition to the President. It was a big pill for Harry Truman to swallow, but with his eyes on the shining chance of Democratic victory in New York, he gallantly gulped it down.

Last week the White House announced O'Dwyer's appointment to Mexico City; the mayor said a sentimental and tearful farewell to the Board of Estimate, exchanged compliments with his old friend and mentor, John Cashmore (whom he had just pushed out as Democratic leader of Brooklyn) and prepared to leave Manhattan. As a parting gesture to O'Dwyer, the teary-eyed board gave handsome raises to most all of the O'Dwyer men who would be left behind on the city payroll. They also cleared the way to give O'Dwyer himself a $12,000-a-year lifetime pension to help eke out a living on his $25,000-a-year salary as ambassador. The Democrats were happy and the Mexicans seemed flattered by the appointment; O'Dwyer and helpmeet Sloan seemed to be walking off, hand in hand, into the sunset, just like in the old silent pictures.

*As a boy, O'Dwyer left Ireland, studied for the priesthood at a Jesuit school in Salamanca, Spain, learned to speak Spanish well.

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