You Have to Do Something

The behavior of Presidential Adviser Clark Clifford had been puzzling White House newsmen for a week and a half. In view of the political debacle facing the Truman Administration, it was hard to understand how handsome Mr. Clifford could look so happy and knowing. He looked like a man who had something up his sleeve.

In fact, he had. He had been turning over an idea in his mind ever since last summer. At that time Air Secretary Stuart Symington had suggested that the way to handle the Russian crisis was to send Dwight Eisenhower over to talk with Stalin. That suggestion was dropped, but Clifford remembered it. He also remembered how the President had broken a deadlock over voting procedure in U.N. by sending Harry Hopkins to Moscow. From a political point of view, Eisenhower was probably not a very good choice for such a job now. But why not send Chief Justice Fred Vinson, a good Democrat, to talk to Stalin?

As Clifford saw it, the President would have nothing to lose. If Fred Vinson, in man-to-nTan fashion, could get some reassuringly peaceful word out of Stalin, the whole world would cheer. It might even be the miracle needed to keep Harry Truman in the White House. Jubilantly Mr. Truman approved of the idea.

They would tell almost no one about it. The President would just go on the radio some evening, and make the dramatic announcement that he was sending the nation's Chief Justice to Moscow to talk peace.

Unexpected Reaction. But Secretary of State Marshall had to be told. He was in Paris trying to negotiate with the Russians at the U.N. Mr. Truman sent him a letter by diplomatic pouch and told him of the great idea.

To Truman's surprise and dismay, Marshall flatly opposed it. The foreign ministers of the U.S., Britain and France had just finished eight weeks of fruitless talks with Stalin and Molotov. Marshall, at that very moment, was doing his best to reassure Britain's Bevin and France's Schuman of the consistency of U.S. diplomacy. The U.S., for example, had said it would not negotiate with Russia as long as she maintained the Berlin blockade. An announcement such as Mr. Truman planned would certainly shake British and French confidence in the U.S. The move would also look as though the U.S. was undercutting U.N. Moreover, what would Arthur Vandenberg and John Foster Dulles think? Could the Administration expect the Republicans to continue support of the bipartisan foreign policy after this?

Harry Truman was disappointed with Marshall's reply. Waving his arms in the style of the new "Give 'em hell, Harry," he paced around the White House saying: "I've got to do something dramatic."

In the end the idea was too irresistible. Marshall notwithstanding, Harry Truman decided to go ahead.

Politics or Business? On his instructions, Press Secretary Charlie Ross summoned officials of the four radio networks to the White House one day last week and asked for air time for that night. Having in mind the rules of the campaign, the network officials asked: "Is this political or is it Government business?" Government business, said Ross. When they looked skeptical, Ross swore them to secrecy and told them of the President's idea. They went away to think it over.

Meanwhile, Under Secretary of State Robert Lovett had learned that the President was going ahead with his plan. He telephoned Marshall. Both were outraged. They agreed to tell the President that if he went ahead they would both resign. Lovett drove to the White House, and gave the President his and Marshall's ultimatum.

That was shortly before noon. Mr. Truman talked to Marshall by telecon. A little later the network officials heard from Ross, cancelling the request for radio time. That evening, instead, a brief announcement was made that George Marshall would fly home to consult with the President. Harry Truman had to make some kind of show of being President.

"Not a Word." Somehow, the story remained a secret in Washington for three days. Then the cat was let out of the bag --while Harry Truman was campaigning, in upstate New York. He returned to Washington in time to meet Marshall, debarking from the "Presidential Special." The President turned away reporters with a gay wave. Didn't he have something to say about the Vinson affair? He grinned: "Not a word."

Mr. Truman climbed into a limousine, drove to the White House, changed from a grey fedora to a sand-colored sombrero, got back into the limousine and was driven to National Airport, where he joined Lovett and others in the reception committee for Marshall. The Secretary's plane had been circling overhead for ten minutes, waiting word that the President had arrived. The plane set down. A tired, ashen-faced, 68-year-old George Marshall alighted, smiling wanly. A grinning Mr. Truman greeted him.

They went into conference, to emerge with two formal statements for the press. The President had called him home, the Marshall statement said, to talk things over. The President was chiefly concerned about "the intransigent attitude of the Soviet government during the debate on the atomic problem." They had discussed the Vinson matter. "The President decided it would not be advisable to take this action. The matter was then dropped." The Secretary had heard talk of a split between the President and himself. "There is no foundation for this," he said.

Said the President's statement: "I told him [Marshall] of my continuing great desire to see peace firmly established in the world . . . Secretary Marshall described to me the situation which we face in Paris ... I decided not to take this step."

That was that. Washington and the capitals of Western Europe breathed a little more easily, although in an atmosphere of continuing uncertainty and suspense. The feeling was, "What next?" Not since Harry Truman had similarly embarrassed Secretary of State Byrnes (who also happened to be in Paris at the time) by approving Henry Wallace's attack on U.S. foreign policy had such an ill-timed action of the President caused such general consternation or put his Secretary of State on such an impossible spot.

Why had Harry Truman done it? The inference was almost inevitable: to improve his waning political fortunes. He must have hoped that, by such a spotlighted and dramatic gesture, he could catch the imagination of the people and push back the overwhelming odds against his reelection. His attempted action was shocking because it showed that he had no conception whatever of the difference between the President of the United States and a U.S. politician.

This file is automatically generated by a robot program, so reader's discretion is required.