Monday, Apr. 07, 1952
Exit Smiling
He never looked better. Tanned and grinning, Harry Truman let his eyes twinkle over two acres of fund-bearing Democrats, a crop to rejoice the heart of a onetime Missouri farm boy, who by loyal association with the Democratic Party had attained the most powerful office in the world.
The party had proclaimed itself as the champion of the common man, the little fellow, the ill-fed. Five times the nation had responded by giving the Democrats the presidency. Now they faced a sixth test, which promised to be the sternest of all. Girding for the battle, 6,000 Democratic leaders assembled in Washington and paid half a million dollars t01) consume pink grapefruit, celery & olives, filet mignon, baked potatoes, string beans, domestic Burgundy and ice cream molded in the form of a donkey, 2) honor Jefferson and Jackson, and 3) hear what their leader, Harry Truman, the improbably successful man with the common touch, had to say about the party's future.
Formula for '52. It was bright, he said. He told them the party could win the sixth election--and if they would believe this from any man they would believe it from Harry Truman, who had stumped the experts by fighting his way out of a corner in 1948. In one of the best-written and best-delivered political speeches he ever made, Truman laid down the formula for victory in 1952.
The formula was a tried if not a true one. Just as a generation of Republicans through the 1870s, '80s and '90s "waved the bloody shirt" and ran for office against Jefferson Davis, so a generation of Democrats through the 1930s and '40s have waved the Great Depression and run for office against Warren Harding, Andrew Mellon and Herbert Hoover. The Democrats' story was that they killed the dragon in 1932 (although it was so long adying that some economic pathologists say it really expired of arteriosclerosis and Pearl Harbor). The Democrats had been paid four times over for their feat, and the Amalgamated Dragonkillers (C.I.O.) could ask no more.
But Truman could and he earnestly urged the Democrats to stick to their story. Again, he told the Democratic version of the 1920s when the Republicans "spent all their time trying to help the rich get richer." There are still Republicans today who think the same way, he said. "This is the dinosaur school of Republican strategy. They want to take us back to prehistoric times . . . [But this] would only get the dinosaur vote--and there aren't many dinosaurs left."
Well-Worked Vein. Republicans, said Truman, "will try to make people believe that everything the Government has done for the country is socialism . . . Here you are, with your new car, and your home, and better opportunities for the kids, and a television set--just surrounded by socialism!"
As to foreign policy, some Republicans want "to pull out of Korea, and to abandon Europe and to let the United Nations go to smash." Other Republicans want to begin dropping atomic bombs. The Democrats, on the other hand, are against Communism and in favor of peace.
On another pressing issue, he also took the counteroffensive: "I stand for honest government," he said. He recalled Republican scandals of the 1920s and added that these were "no worse-- ;no more immoral-- than the tax laws of Andrew Mellon or the attempt to sell Muscle Shoals to private interests."
As Truman went on in this well-worked vein, his fellow Democrats beamed upon him. Many of the 6,000 came to the dinner convinced that Harry Truman was not their best possible candidate for 1952. But doubts must have been raised in some minds by his mastery of the formula, by his confidence, and above all by the way he convinces those who hear him that he is pouring out his whole mind, a plain man saying what he thinks. Not even Roosevelt had this ability in the degree Truman has it. Well the 6,000 have known (since 1948) what a priceless political asset it is.
Summing up, Truman said: "Whoever the Democratic nominee for President may be this year, he will have this record to run on." At that moment, in that hall, the thought that Harry Truman should be the nominee sprang out of all that Truman had said and the way he said it.
Historic Decision. With scarcely a pause for breath, Harry Truman shattered the thought. He turned from his typed script and read hurriedly from a sheet on which he had written with a pen a historic paragraph.
"I shall not be a candidate for re-election."
Smiles died and stillness fell on the hall. He went on:
"I have served my country long and, I think, efficiently and honestly. I shall not accept a renomination. I do not feel it is my duty to spend another four years in the White House."
A woman's voice shrilled: "Oh, my God!" There were cries of "No, no" all over the hall, then a single loud voice, "Oh, NO," as if a performer on a high wire had stepped into space.
Truman raced tonelessly through the concluding sentences of his prepared speech, snapped shut the leather notebook with his script and stepped back from the lectern. He came forward again when photographers summoned him and smiled, a little tightly. He turned to Bess Truman, who had risen, and drew her into range of the television cameras. His smile broadened, and he backed away again and, parting a curtain, left.
Reporters ran after him. "Is that decision subject to any change?"
"None whatsoever," he said, snapping his head forward vigorously. His eyes sparkled and he seemed to be bubbling with good humor and, perhaps, relief.
Bess Truman came up and was about to get in their limousine when a reporter asked: "Are you happy over that decision?" The reporter and all Washington knew the answer to that. She has borne stoically the very unwelcome burdens of her husband's position, and she has dreaded the possibility that he would run again. Bess Truman's reply to the question was in line with the self-effacing role she has played so well in the White House.
"Of course," she answered, "anything he says goes."
What Motive? Truman's decision was the best-kept Washington political secret in years. Its origins went back to April 12, 1950, the anniversary of Franklin Roosevelt's death, when Truman sat alone at his White House desk and wrote out a private memorandum. The gist of it was that he would not run for the presidency again. He first planned to announce his decision on April 12 of this year, then advanced the date to the Jefferson-Jackson dinner. A few hours before the banquet, he told Mrs. Truman, called Margaret in Portland, Ore. and told her, and he told Democratic National Chairman Frank McKinney at a reception just before going in to dinner. Of the 6,000, not more than ten knew what was coming.
Why did he decide not to run? Truman's friends say that the simplest answer is the true one: he and his wife want to spend the rest of their lives in more peace and quiet than the White House can offer. This answer is certainly no pretense--but it may not be the whole truth.
Truman could have announced his decision months ago. He went to great pains to keep his choice open. What was he waiting for? One possibility was some relaxation of international tension. But less than a fortnight before, he had heatedly denied McKinney's report that his decision depended on war or peace in Korea. Another possibility is that he was awaiting the emergence of a successor on whom his party can agree. Though none has clearly emerged, Truman apparently felt that the hopefuls now in the field augur well for the party.
A Long Way. There have been two recent developments--one Democratic, one Republican--that may have influenced his timing and perhaps even his decision rot to run. In the Democratic camp, the strong Southern support behind Georgia's Senator Richard Russell brought home the threat of a defection in the South, whose leaders are bitterly hostile to Truman; another Truman candidacy might have split the party that Truman loves. Meanwhile, his defeat by Kefauver in the New Hampshire preference primary emphasized that he was not the unanimous choice of Northern Democrats.
The Republican development is the recent rise of General Eisenhower's chance to get the nomination. Truman might have made a lot of personal sacrifices if he thought them necessary to keep Senator Taft from the presidency. He has reasons for not wanting to run against Ike: 1) he likes Ike personally; 2) it may be that not even Truman's superb confidence is equal to the belief that he can beat Eisenhower. Why should he risk splitting his party in a losing fight?
So he bowed out, smiling. Six years, eleven months and 17 days before his announcement, Truman, overwhelmed by humility, had acceded to the presidency. Of that moment, he said: "Did you ever have a bull or a load of hay fall on you? If you have, you know how I felt last night."
The loads of hay had continued to fall. The Communization of Western Europe had been narrowly averted. The Middle East had drifted into confusion and enmity toward the West. China had gone Communist and the Korean war had followed. Congress set itself against Truman. Inflation pressed on. Taxes rose and deficits returned. Scandals beset the Administration of an honest man who was all too loyal to his political friends.
Yet Truman stood up under successive blows. When cornered by disaster, as in the European crisis or the Red attack on South Korea, he reacted out of deeply rooted American principles. The Truman Doctrine, the Marshall Plan, the decision to defend South Korea are examples of the healthy Truman reflex. If any problem was close enough, desperate enough and clear enough, he knew what to do. He did not possess and he did not develop the ability to look ahead, to avoid the crises, to build.
In his speech last week, he said that he was proud that he had come "from precinct worker to President." It was a long way--and Americans can be proud of Harry Truman's journey. In his term of office, however, the responsibilities of the U.S. presidency came a long way, too. It is no shame to Harry Truman that he could not keep pace with the awful responsibilities of his job.
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