Original subtitles

Oh, look. Heather and Narcissus.

Eleanor.

I'm marrying a flower thief.

No one saw.

There, that's a sure sign that spring is just around the corner.

Everything wonderful is just around the corner for us.

I love you so.

And will?

And will for a very long time.

Boy dearest, that's not good enough.

Don't you remember the poem I copied out and sent you?

Mrs. Browning?

The very last part?

- "Unless... - "Unless...

you can swear

'For life, for death! '...

Oh, fear to call it loving!"

Franklin.

Miss Eleanor Roosevelt, Mr. Franklin Roosevelt.

Miss Eleanor.

- Mr. Roosevelt. - Mr. Hoover.

Would you like to leave your coats here?

I'll just check your names off the guest list.

Mrs. Roosevelt's already gone into the dining room

with some of the family.

We're not late?

No, no, the president hasn't come down yet.

Who says he hasn't?

Mr. President.

- Isn't the elevator working? - Yes.

So are my legs. What of it?

Ha! My favorite niece.

Hello, Uncle Ted.

- Cousin. - Mr. President.

Thank you, Ike. I'll look after these children.

By Godfrey, don't we all look swell in our finery?

Ha! I never have grown up in that respect.

I still love dressing up, no matter what the costume.

Ah, we'll join the others in a minute.

Oh, it's bully to have so much family on hand for this inauguration.

That first time I took the oath,

it all seemed as haphazard as it was sudden.

Now tonight, after dinner,

you Aunt Edith and I will lead the dancing in here.

Oh, it's going to look fine.

Ha!

This is the room where the president dances.

And if he's careless enough to die in office,

this is where they lay him out.

It looks grand.

The whole house looks just grand since you did it over.

And Uncle Ted, it's officially the White House now, is it,

instead of the Executive Mansion?

Yes, we've had all the stationary changed.

It's what the people outside have always called it anyway.

Now listen you two. Remind me.

What day am I due in New York for your wedding?

- The 17th. - Two weeks.

- Two weeks from yesterday. - Ah, yes.

I've got the St. Patrick's Day Parade first.

And then I'm to go straight on to you.

We're awfully grateful you could find the time.

This is an occasion,

you two coming to the White House together for the first time.

Now, once you're Mr. And Mrs.,

we're going to expect to see a lot of you around here.

Oh, we'll be back. Never fear.

Will you listen to this Young Turk?

I don't know if that means he plans a more or less permanent occupancy

of one of the guest rooms, or that he has his eye on mine.

I, Theodore Roosevelt,

do solemnly swear that I will faithfully execute

- the office of President... - I, Franklin Delano Roosevelt,

do solemnly swear that I will faithfully execute the office

of President of the United States

and will, to the best of my ability,

preserve, protect, and defend

the Constitution of the United States.

So help you, God.

So help me, God.

This great nation will endure...

as it has endured;

will revive, and will prosper.

So first of all, let me assert my firm belief

that the only thing we have to fear

is fear itself.

Nameless, unreasoning, unjustified terror,

which paralyzes needed efforts to convert retreat into advance.

Even as the new president took the oath of office,

new unemployment figures revealed

no increase in the availability of jobs.

The first task of Franklin D. Roosevelt

will be, in his own words,

"to put people to work."

An impoverished nation looks to the future with hope.

Don't look at me, look at them.

Remember what I told you. That's my stride.

Keep your head up. Smile.

Look people right in the eye. Keep them from noticing what we're doing.

Two things to remember, kid:

You never catch him moving, only standing still;

and never in a wheelchair, except from the waist up.

Good afternoon, gentlemen. Nice day.

Well, it started out kind of gray,

but it sure has brightened up, Mr. President.

Oh, we take that as a favorable omen.

The sun shines on the New Deal.

Can we have you like that for just a minute, Mr. President?

Like this?

That's perfect. Hold it.

- What about the First Lady? - She's camera shy.

Hates having her picture taken.

Mrs. Roosevelt, would you mind?

Come on, darling. It's for the history books.

Ah, that's... that's beautiful.

Beautiful. Now if you can hold that for just a minute longer.

As long as you like. We're not going anywhere.

Ha! We're home.

Ghosts?

Inevitably, I suppose.

How little the place has changed since he was here.

You realize the usher is the same one who received us 28 years ago?

He's top dog now.

Ike Hoover. He called me Miss Eleanor, exactly as he did then.

You know what he said to me just now?

"It's good to have a Roosevelt in the White House again."

I said, "Uh-oh, if that's my cue to say,

'lt's good to still have a Hoover on the place,'

I'm afraid I'll have to pass."

He swears they're not related,

so I expect we'll let him stay.

I just want to see how they're getting on down here.

My first order of business is a little pep talk to the Cabinet

before the swearing in. What's yours?

I'm going up to my room for a few minutes,

and then I'll see what's being done

in the way of tea and little sandwiches for the reception.

- How many expected? - Multitudes.

Multitudes? That's a lot.

And 75 for dinner.

"Where the president dances."

And what was the other?

I don't remember.

Oh, of course. Lies in state.

Hmm.

I won't so much mind not being able to do the one,

if it means I'm excused from doing the other.

So this is where you are, you bad boy.

When you didn't come straight upstairs, I thought, "Good grief.

Maybe he's caught between floors in that awful little elevator."

Jim Farley and most of the others are already assembled.

Miss Perkins and Mr. Hull are just arriving.

I knew you'd want to be settled in your study

and have them all come in together.

I mean, I assumed that's what you'd want.

You assumed correctly, as always, my dear Missy.

Lead on, "O Ship of State."

You are the Ship of State, Sire.

I'm just a little tugboat.

Such modesty!

Tell me this, Tugboat Annie...

Did anyone of your many admirers

ever tell you he liked the cut of your jib?

It's a pretty fresh remark, wouldn't you say?

No, it's a perfectly orthodox naval expression.

Witness is directed to answer the question.

Sorry, your honor. If anyone ever did,

it'll just have to remain a secret between him and me.

How jolly. I love secrets.

I'm very good at keeping secrets. Did you know that?

Beloved and revered First Lady.

Louis!

First Lady of the land.

- Do you believe it? - No.

It's unreal, isn't it?

I figured it out in the car just now.

It's 21 years since I first addressed him

as "beloved and revered future president."

That big uppity Dutchman from Duchess County.

Who'd have thunk it?

I mean, who'd have believed way back then

that we'd really pull it off?

Good afternoon.

The Cabinet all get here?

Yes, according to Missy. They're in the study.

Check. I'll see you later.

Oh, by the way,

I just remembered something.

What?

I've never been up here before.

Which one is it?

Straight ahead.

Ah, Colonel Howe has arrived at last.

- Colonel? - Your Excellency.

Eleanor? Is anybody here?

Who is it?

Ah.

- Oh, Mama. - Well.

Thank heavens. I've been looking all over the place

and I haven't been able to rouse one familiar soul.

It's like a great drafty old commercial hotel, isn't it?

Complete even to the house detective in the hall.

He's a Secret Service man.

Franklin has shut himself up in his study with a lot of strangers.

I know he's far too busy for his tedious old mother,

but has he spent any time with the children in the past few days?

Not much, I'm afraid.

Is he aware that Elliott and Betty are on the verge of separating?

And that Anna and Curtis may not be long to follow?

I think he senses that things are not quite right.

Has he ever discussed the matter with Anna or Elliott?

No, of course not.

Why "of course not"?

You know your son, Mama.

Very difficult for him to discuss personal things.

It always has been.

That's meant as a reproach to me, I suppose.

Not at all.

Oh, don't think I'm not aware of what people think.

Naturally, he had to learn to keep his innermost feelings to himself.

He's secret and deep... even when he was little,

because he had such a bossy, interfering mama.

Is this really where you're expected to sleep?

Why not? Abraham Lincoln slept here.

Not in that bed, I dare say.

No. It is a bit short, even for me.

When I find another, I think I'll put it in the dressing room.

And I can use this as my sitting room.

I could have my desk over here.

Mmm. Some new curtains and a decent carpet

will make a world of difference.

Know what I'm reminded of?

The time you and Franklin first moved to Washington,

20 years ago, and I came to see you settled in.

- Do you remember? - Oh, yes.

Coming back to this city must have all sorts of associations for you?

Yes, a good many.

Not all of them pleasant.

No, not all.

You must put it out of your mind.

It's all dead and buried in the past.

If my instinct is correct, and it usually is,

Franklin has completely forgotten her.

With Franklin, it would be hard to know, wouldn't it?

I'm going to my bed, such as it is.

I'll never get through the evening without a nap.

Is the inevitable Missy LeHand in there with the others?

Of course. She's his secretary.

You're only his wife, just as I'm only his mother.

Pity neither of us is an advisor or an employee.

It would give us so much more legitimate a claim on his time.

You don't begrudge her the fact that she's with him more than you are?

Missy? Certainly not.

You don't think it ought to be you by his side?

Not every waking minute of ever day, no.

And that's what Franklin needs.

Someone to be on call at a moment's notice,

all day long.

How could I possibly begrudge her anything?

Even if you did, of course,

even if you were jealous as sin, you'd never let on.

In your own quiet way,

you're ever bit as secret and deep as he is.

What time is dinner, by the way?

7:30.

We've arranged it, as we did in Albany,

so that Franklin will always be seated at the table

before the guests arrive in the dining room.

Afterward, he'll go back to work

and the rest of us will go on to the inaugural ball.

That's when I shall go definitively to my bed.

I do hope you'll all be quiet and not wake me coming in.

About time you came crawling in, you night owl.

Have you any idea of the hour?

I know. It was a question of finding the right moment for a graceful departure.

I thought you'd be in bed.

Ah, no such luck.

The night's final conference didn't break up until about 10 minutes ago.

Did the children get back all right?

I lost track of them earlier.

What on earth?

They brought a few friends and part of a rumba band with them.

Jimmy phoned to ask if it was all right, and I said "yes."

I was just about to look in and say goodnight.

Your mother's sleeping directly overhead.

Don't worry. If she could hear them,

there'd have been a loud thumping up there by this time.

- Hey, look who's here. - Oh, Mother.

- How you doing, Boss? - Grand, Jimmy, perfectly grand.

When I spoke of a good neighbor policy this afternoon,

I had no idea we'd see it implemented so quickly

or so close to home.

I suppose you all know it's after 1:00.

How long is this going to go on?

- Weeks. - Years and years.

I hope not.

We all have to be at St. Thomas' bright and early.

Mother!

Come on, Babs, I can remember a certain Saturday night

when you and I danced on and on,

without any thought as to how bright we'd be for church.

Anna, don't your Latin friends know any other sort of music?

What about a waltz just for variety?

Oh Pa, nobody does the waltz anymore.

Really? Time was when it was practically all they did.

That orchestra doesn't seem to know anything but waltzes.

- Good night. - Good night.

Mmm.

Babs?

Is it all right?

I'm just spending a quiet moment with the stamps,

trying to unwind.

- Shall I leave you to it? - No, no, come in.

I'm always glad when we can catch a few minutes to ourselves.

They are rare.

I expect they'll be getting rarer now.

Well, the next few days...

the next few weeks... are bound to be pretty hectic.

So much to be done.

14 million unemployed, by latest count.

20 million on the public doles.

And that many more unable to make a decent living.

Do you know what I was thinking just before you came in?

I thought, I'm sitting here in this bed,

where Herbert Hoover sat last night,

and I'm wondering just how seriously he took the possibility

of a second American Revolution.

Could that really happen?

Anything could happen

with the country in the awful mess it's in.

At dinner tonight, Cousin Alice said,

"No inauguration has seen it so near collapse

since the day Lincoln took the oath."

She said if I fail, I'll be the last Democratic President of the United States.

I said, "Alice, if I fail,

I'll be the last President of the United States, period."

It is a fearful responsibility.

I wonder what I can do.

Well, with multitudes coming to tea several times a week,

all those receptions and state dinners,

looks to me as if you have your work cut out for you.

But just planning menus and standing in a line

shaking hands, making small talk...

All very necessary.

But not very inspiring, is it?

I only wish I had a real job to do,

something that might keep us in close touch.

Such as?

Well one thing did... did occur to me.

You're going to be getting a much larger amount of mail

than you ever did as governor.

I wondered if I mightn't take some of it over for you.

And what about Missy?

Missy has so many things to do.

Yes, and one of them is dealing with my mail.

How do you suppose she'd feel if you suddenly exercised a wife's prerogative

and walked off with a major part of her duties?

I never thought of it as exercising a wife's prerogative.

Well, think about it and tell me if I'm not right,

if it doesn't smack of pulling rank.

You're right, of course.

Don't go away mad.

Oh, don't be silly. I'm not mad.

Don't be Griselda.

Griselda?

You know what I mean.

You've said it yourself.

"Poor Griselda, suffering in silence.

Feeling like a martyr, and acting like one."

But I've outgrown that. I mean, good heavens,

- I hope I have. - Good night, darling.

- Good night. - See you in church.

Yes.

My friends, I want to talk for a few minutes

with the people of the United States about banking.

To the comparative few who understand the mechanics of banking,

but more particularly with the majority of you

who use banks for the making of deposits

and the writing of checks.

I want to tell you what has been done in the last few days

and why it was done, and what the next steps are going to be.

I do not promise you that every bank will be reopened,

or that individual losses will not be suffered.

But, there will be no losses that possibly could have been avoided.

I can even promise you salvation

for some, at least, of the sorely pressed banks.

Ah, wait a minute.

I wish you'd stop being mysterious. We're miles from nowhere.

Take a right.

You were all right until you lit that.

You hadn't coughed for hours.

When will you learn?

Look for a sign up ahead.

Fort Hunt?

Isn't that where the Bonus Marchers are camped?

6,000 of them.

- 6,000? - Six.

The Veterans Administration has put them up in tents

without running water, with trench latrines.

Even so, they're a hell of a lot better off than last year,

when they turned up over 10,000 strong,

and that kind-hearted little Quaker, Herbert Hoover,

sicced the army on them. Can you believe it?

The same army they served in, burning their camp, shooting at them.

Surely something can be done for them?

We're thinking about enlisting as many of them as want to join

in the CCC.

We could put them to work building dams, planting trees,

and fighting forest fires.

And if they'd agree to it,

we could turn Fort Hunt into a training camp for them.

The idea hasn't been put to them yet.

I want you to be aware of that when you meet them.

When I meet them?

You can pull up right over here.

Ah, right under that tree is all right.

Perfecto.

Louis?

I'm gonna catch a little snooze.

All this driving around is bad for a semi-invalid.

There's nobody here.

Oh, they're here.

Most of them are out in the field doing calisthenics.

But the leaders, the real hotheads,

are always in the mess hall at this hour,

shouting and snarling and...

And I'm to simply walk in, big as life,

and say, "Hello, I'm Mrs. Roosevelt."

Well, why not? It's your name.

They'll eat me alive.

No, no. They're not allowed snacks between meals.

Dreadful man.

...beginning to look like the same old runaround!

All we ever got from Herbert Hoover was a kick in the butt!

Yeah!

And now, I'm beginning to wonder if FDR's any better,

after all those perfectly grand

campaign promises he made!

You got to ask yourself if maybe the newspapers were right,

that said he was nothing but a feather duster!

A political corkscrew!

Yeah!

A Boy Scout covering up his shallowness

with a big India Rubber smile

full of unproductive optimism.

Just another way of saying more baloney!

Oh.

I've lost my shade.

Thanks for coming, Mrs. Roosevelt.

Goodbye, ma'am.

- It's an honor, Mrs. Roosevelt. - Hello. Thank you.

- Bye, ma'am. - Goodbye!

- Goodbye! - Goodbye.

Well?

Eleanor?

Yes?

What happened?

Oh, it was quite nice, really.

They gave me tea and I told them about the work

I did for the Red Cross after the war.

And about the battlefields I visited afterwards.

And, they seemed very interested.

Yes, but what about the...?

What about what?

Oh, oh yes, and then we sang some of the old war songs.

Dreadful woman.

Oh I see. You mean, what about your idea?

Yes, yes.

My impression is that a considerable number of them

will accept your proposal to train here for the CCC,

and that quite a few of the rest of them

will enlist in their own hometowns

after they've dispersed peaceful and left Washington.

Louis! Ah!

I want you to tell me everything you saw

and everything they said.

Everything you remember.

Well, one man, an ex-sergeant,

Sgt. Lee Goodwin of Elizabeth, New Jersey,

said something I think he meant as a compliment.

At least I hope so.

He said, "Hoover sent the army. Roosevelt sent his wife."

Ha, ha!

Ah, I love it.

I want you to put it all down on paper.

I want you to tell everything you saw in detail.

Find out what people are saying, what they think,

what they feel. Watch their faces.

And if anyone asks you why you've come,

you say, "Because my husband asked me to."

You say, "I've come because he can't."

What's wrong?

With me? Nothing.

What's wrong with you?

- Something wrong? - It's an epidemic.

The way the buzzers are all ringing out there...

Everything's perfectly grand. Last appointment of the day concluded,

and yet, here it is, only half past 6:00.

Unheard of.

Here sits a president with nothing to do.

Hasn't anyone something for me to do?

I believe Louis has something scheduled,

if you don't want to answer any mail now.

No, no, leave it till tomorrow.

What boring order of business does the colonel wish to plague me with?

- I heard that. - I intended you to.

You'll sing another tune when you see what I've brought you,

you ingrate.

Great Jumping Jehosophat!

Ah, Mr. President,

with all due respect, would you kindly move your ass?

Oh!

You really are surprised.

You forgot what day it is.

By George if I didn't.

I thought about it this morning, but then it slipped my mind.

My friends, we are about to enjoy

the first legal Martini to be served in the White House

for over 13 years.

Let's hope I remember the proportions.

Otherwise, for "legal," read "lethal."

Ah, sweet music.

Historians will no doubt make much of the first 100 days

- of your administration... - Thank you.

The special session of Congress.

The fantastic amount of legislation accomplished

to heal the nation's wounds.

They'll say, "On March 16th came the Agriculture Bill."

Or, "On March 21st, he launched the CCC,

and asked for federal grants for unemployment relief."

Others will recall that on such-and-such a day,

the National Recovery Act went into effect.

And how, through it all,

FDR's smile and his vitality

lifted the spirits of millions.

Hear, hear!

Bravo.

But...

for the man on the street,

the forgotten man,

the little man,

- little me... - Oh.

The date that will live in history,

the one for which the name of Roosevelt will forever be revered,

is December 5th, 1933,

when ever decent, red-blooded American

was once again able to take a sip of gin

without wondering

what faintly unsanitary bathtub

it had been brewed in.

Hear, hear.

Never mind all that.

Just be thankful it happened at a time when the missus is out of town,

or she'd be after us with a hatchet, like Carrie Nation.

What shall we drink to?

Why, to the drink.

The first.

The first of many, God willing.

All right, a tradition is born.

Between the dark and the daylight,

when the night is beginning to lour,

comes a pause in the day's occupations,

that is known as the Children's Hour.

Children.

- Is it all right? - Oh, it's lovely.

Good.

And now, Father would like someone to tell him

what's playing at the movies tonight after dinner.

In Berlin, Germany,

troops parade in review before the recently elected chancellor,

Adolf Hitler.

Foreign observers were surprised that 92% of the German electorate

voted for candidates of the National Socialist Party,

thereby giving the party leader, Hitler,

an overwhelming victory.

Sieg heil!

Boo, hiss!

Quiet in the cheap seats, please.

My God, if that's the Third Reich,

give me the New Deal every time.

Oh, look!

November 7th, Reedsville, West Virginia.

A dream becomes a reality as Mrs. Roosevelt

welcomes the first contingent of miners and their families

to arrive at the site of the abandoned 1200-acre estate

where the government is launching its Homestead Program.

- Good girl! - To be known in the future as Arthurdale,

- Oh, good girl. - The resettlement project is already known...

- Hold it, gorgeous. - Mrs. Roosevelt's baby.

Here, along with Harry Hopkins,

former social worker, and presently head

of the Federal Emergency Relief Administration,

she is seen outside the estate's original mansion,

where the new arrivals, grim memories of cold camp shacks behind them...

All line up and do-see-do. Swing your partners and away we go!

Will you look at that? That's my missus.

I love it, I love it!

Lest the newcomers feel uneasy in the estranged surroundings,

Mrs. Roosevelt invites them to a dance on their first night.

But it is the miners who provide the music and call the tune.

And it is the First Lady's turn to experience something new.

Those things will kill you. You know that.

Why don't you stop?

Oh, you don't indulge, of course.

I don't have asthma, and 17 other respiratory complaints.

I'm trying to cut down.

Oh, spinach!

I'm sorry, but I have really no patience with you on this subject, Louis.

If you won't slow down, if you won't take better care for your own sake,

you might at least consider the people around you.

What I've got is not contagious.

Who care for you.

And would be sorry to lose you.

Thanks, Boss.

March, 1934.

On her tour of Caribbean islands,

Mrs. Roosevelt pays a visit

to the picturesque city of San Juan, Puerto Rico.

Her purpose: To inspect some not-so-picturesque slums,

and, as she says, draw attention to conditions of poverty,

injustice, and neglect.

Local social workers move quickly

to keep up with the indefatigable First Lady

who, it is estimated, has traveled more than 40,000 miles

during the first year of her husband's administration.

The White House.

Speaking before our news camera,

President Roosevelt shares highlights of his message to the Congress

dated January 17th, 1935.

At this time, I recommend the following types of legislation,

looking to economic security:

One: Unemployment compensation.

Two: Old age benefits.

Three: Federal aid to dependent children,

support of existing mothers pension systems,

and care of neglected,

homeless, and crippled children.

Thank you, Martin.

Good morning.

- Good morning. - Good morning, ma'am.

- Welcome home. - Thank you.

- Is the President up? - Yes, ma'am. He's shaving.

I would like to have just a minute with him

before he gets caught up in the day's business.

Certainly, ma'am.

Yes, McDuffy, it's all right.

Hello.

Babs, you're back!

- Am I disturbing you? - No no.

Come in, come in. Sit down, talk to me.

So, she's back. My will-o'-the-wisp wife.

Loaded down with conditions and petitions, I see.

Nothing that can't wait until later.

Do you mind? I do want to hear

but I've got a press conference in a few minutes.

Careful.

Not to cut my throat, you mean.

Finish what the Supreme Court started.

I read about it in the train. It's a shock.

Stunned me, I can tell you.

The biggest jolt was the fact that it was unanimous.

We all assumed that at least Brandeis and Cardozo

were on the side of progress.

We thought we were making such strides with the Recovery Act.

And then to have them throw it back into our faces.

Damn them for it!

Blithering old fools!

Have you been in to see Louis?

Not yet. I wasn't sure he'd be awake.

Don't put it off.

He's missed you more this trip than any other, I think.

He doesn't say anything, of course.

Just except in a roundabout way.

When I looked in on him last night,

he had the evening paper in bed with him,

and I did what I always do, I said, "What's the headline?"

And without even looking up, he said, "First Lady spends night in White House."

Is he any better?

Somewhat worse, I'm afraid.

Then I want you to get hold of Harold Ickes,

and tell him I expect him to be here sometime tomorrow,

with all the latest dope on the Public Works Administration.

Have you got that?

Yes, yes... Come in!

And you've got my memo to Hopkins?

What else?

Oh, now listen, Rabbit.

I want you to make inquiries, discreet inquiries,

my angel, about where I might be able to place a few modest bets

at Hialeah and possibly Agua Caliente.

Call me back as soon as you've got a number.

Bye.

Can you believe it? All the thugs

and hoodlums and perverts running around loose,

I mean, just in the lobby of Congress alone,

and the district police have nothing better to do

than arrest my bookie.

I asked you to bring me something, I forget what. Did you bring it?

Just the Kipling, and the new Wodehouse.

I couldn't find "Treasure Island."

Well, that'll do me till tomorrow.

If you can keep your head when all about you are losing theirs

and blaming it on you.

You know, there are days when I think mine is the only voice of sanity

in this whole setup for the new campaign.

Hello, Louis.

Hello.

What sort of an answer is that?

Didn't I say hello when you came in?

- No. - I'm sure I did.

Have a chair.

Excuse the exotic position.

I seem to breathe better with my downside up.

How are you feeling?

Never better.

By the time I move my staff up to party headquarters in New York,

I expect to be back

in the same old fighting form as always.

How is His Nibs?

Oh, you know, the same.

He never tires of the job.

Whichever way it goes, good or bad,

he seems to thrive on it.

You know.

Do I? I begin to wonder.

He hasn't been to see me in almost two weeks.

I'm sorry.

What the hell's the matter with the man?

I don't have to explain him to you.

No.

No, that you don't.

You're the closest friend he's ever had.

Franklin doesn't have friends.

He has admirers and advisors.

Cronies, companions.

But no friends.

Are you his friend?

I want to be. I tried.

I'm not his confidante, I know that.

I don't believe he confides in anyone.

He keeps himself to himself, as the British say.

Then he doesn't even have a wife.

Not really.

Just a missus.

It's hard to realize

you can't meet the need of someone you care terribly for.

It's even harder

learning to accept what others can't give you.

I remember one night, years ago,

we sat in the living room at Hyde Park,

talking to Mama.

She spoke straight to the point.

She said,

"Do you still love Eleanor?"

And he said, "Yes."

She said, "But you're in love with Lucy Mercer?"

And he said, "Yes."

I knew if I stayed in that room another instant

I should be sick all over Mama's expensive carpet.

I kept thinking, "All right,

all right, you're not in love with me.

Well, I'm not in love with you, either.

And I never will be from this moment on.

If we stay together,

for whatever reason,

the children, your career,

even if we spend the rest of our lives together,

it can never be as it was.

We can never be lovers again."

I've never told anyone about this.

Ever.

Why am I telling you now?

Because I'm dying.

No.

There's nobody quite as trustworthy as a dying man.

His chances of betraying a confidence

are comparatively limited.

Louis, Louis, be still. It's not true.

T's true, all right.

I should be lost without you.

Don't go mushy on me now.

Remember what your grandmother used to say:

"Crying upsets people. If you have to do it..."

"Go in the bathroom and turn on all the taps."

That would be inconvenient here.

The head is down the hall.

I tell you what:

You can bang on this with a stick to create a diversion.

Oh, Louis, don't.

Don't lend you my bedpan?

Don't die.

Unto Almighty God we commend the soul of our brother departed,

and we commit his body to the ground.

Earth to earth, ashes to ashes,

dust to dust.

Amen.

I, Franklin Delano Roosevelt,

do solemnly swear that I will faithfully execute

the office of President of the United States

and will, to the best of my ability,

preserve, protect, and defend

the Constitution of the United States...

So help you, God.

So help me, God.

Did you hear him?

It was like a personal warning.

"You may be president, sonny, but I'm Chief Justice of the Supreme Court,

and if you know what's good for you, you'll preserve..."

Did you notice the way he punched those words?

"Preserve, protect, and defend the Constitution"?

Oh, I wanted to come back at him for that.

Yes, it's the Constitution, but it's the Constitution as I understand it...

flexible enough to meet any new problem.

Franklin...

Not the kind your court has raised up as a barrier

to progress and democracy.

Dearest, you're making a speech. You've just finished quite a long one.

Mmm.

Hello, boys. Don't you look nice and soggy?

Seems as if your weather angel has deserted you, sir.

Is this a bad omen for the next four years?

Not at all, not at all.

As an old tree farmer from upstate New York,

I figure a little rain this time of year

means a stronger growth in the spring.

In other words, the honeymoon's not over for the New Deal.

Ha! We all know what paper he's been reading, don't we?

Mr. President?

There was an editorial this morning that said

if the Court and the Congress gave you your head,

you'd be every bit as much of a fascist dictator

as Hitler or Mussolini.

This isn't a press conference, is it?

- No, sir. - I didn't think so.

If it were, I wouldn't care to dignify that charge with an answer.

Once you're out of this rain,

and dry behind the ears,

you may remember that I've also been called

a Communist, a Capitalist, and a Socialist.

- Are you a Communist? - Hey, Jerry!

No.

Are you a Capitalist?

No.

- Are you a Socialist? - No.

Then, what is your philosophy?

Philosophy?

I'm a Christian and a Democrat. That's all.

- But sir? - That's all.

You stupid jerk. He doesn't need to hear what his enemies think

on his inauguration day.

- Here we are again. - Yes.

A little more enthusiasm in that yes, please.

Aren't you aware that our return is the direct result

of a conspiracy between the two of us?

According to whom?

According to a rather nasty little rhyme that was going around before the election.

It's meant to be me talking to you.

Go on.

No, it's not very nice.

Since you've started it.

All right.

"You kiss the niggers and I'll kiss the Jews

and we'll stay in the White House as long as we choose."

Well?

Well, what?

It doesn't bother you?

Not really.

It bothers me.

It's the sort of thing that makes me wonder sometimes

if civilization has made any progress at all in this country

in the past 160 years.

I was much more offended by the joke that went,

"I call my dog Eleanor,

because she's ugly, because she has buck teeth,

and because I can never get her to stay home."

I hadn't heard that one.

When you think of the way we were brought up...

I mean the fact that we inherited all the prejudices of our so-called class...

it's quite a compliment to be accused of kissing people

were taught to think of as our inferiors.

Surely it's much more civilized to kiss someone

than to hurt him.

That's progress, isn't it?

Anyone on duty?

Never mind, I'll take you up.

Oh, you devil.

Shall we begin today's column

while we're waiting for the eggs?

My day, yesterday,

was an unusually full one.

It began...

with a visit from a delegation of sharecroppers,

who are accustomed to begin their labors

- close to sunrise. - Vroom-vroom-vroom.

Good morning, Buzz.

I'm not Buzz. I'm Barney Oldfield

in my super Deusenberg V8.

Oh, dear.

I beg your pardon.

Tell me, Mr. Oldfield,

- is your mother up yet? - Yes.

Why don't you ask her if she'd like to have breakfast in here

with Miss Thompson and me?

She's already having breakfast with Grandpa.

- Oh? - Vroom-vroom, vroom-vroom!

Curious.

He always breakfasts alone.

It's his time to be by himself and pore over the morning papers.

Perhaps because she's leaving today.

Yes, I suppose.

In any case,

it might give me a chance to remind him

about the medical care program.

It's worth a try. Otherwise, I won't see him till dinnertime,

if then. Wish me luck.

Ha! I remember.

That was the year Bunny was Jack Horner

and got to open the pie full of little toys.

My 13th birthday.

One of Granny's gifts was a beautiful lamp for my bedroom.

- You remember? - Mmm.

Brud was all of five years old and such a little conniver.

He sat right down and wrote Granny a letter.

"I love you very much. I want to kiss you.

Please give me a light like Anna's, and a firecracker."

A firecracker! Yes, yes.

It was only May but he was already laying plans for the Fourth of July.

Oh, yes.

Who's that?

Is this a private party or can anyone join in?

Anna and I were just hashing over old times.

If I'm interrupting...

Ah, as a matter of fact...

I thought I might give you this while you're in a receptive mood.

While I'm flat on my back, you mean. Defenseless.

Why don't you just drop it in the basket?

I will, if you promise to read it

and not just skim through. It's awfully important.

You're not asking me to go over any more of your mail

about my running battle with the Supreme Court

and how it's begun to look like the biggest single mistake

- of my political career? - It's not that.

What your correspondents fail to take into account

is that I'm well into my second administration

and still haven't got a single appointee of my own on the bench.

Nine old men,

every one of them convinced that retirement, like death,

is something to be put off till the last possible moment.

In point of fact,

this is Esther Lape's report

on how to reorganize medical care for the needy.

It's an alternative to the compulsory health insurance

that was defeated as part of the Social Security plan.

I'm not ready to discuss that.

So it seems. Esther feels you've lost interest in the whole issue.

That's nonsense.

If I've told her once, I've told her a dozen times,

I'll give it my full attention when she and her committee

have agreed on a clear point of view and set it down succinctly.

There are 40-odd pages here, excerpted from two large volumes.

I saw them. Two large volumes of medical nitpicking.

You may have time for that, I don't.

I haven't even read "Gone With the Wind" yet.

- Franklin, that's not funny. - Says you.

It's absolutely essential that you study this and get involved.

Get some sort of action.

Drop it in the basket, Lammy.

No. Not unless I have your promise to look at it first chance you get.

- Babs... - Mother, can't you see

that you're giving Pa indigestion?

I have to go and get the children ready.

There's only one plane to Seattle today

and my second... and so far darling... husband

will be very cranky if we're not on it.

Sis, I hate to see you go.

It's been such fun having you here.

But much too short.

For me, too.

I'll bring Sistie and Buzz in to say goodbye when they're dressed.

We seem to be in a continuous state of saying goodbye to the children.

They arrive one minute, and it's grand.

The next minute, they're off again.

We raised them to be independent.

Hmm.

I just wish we could keep at least one of them around,

now and then, for more than a few days.

Jimmy, for instance.

I don't think he's all that happy in the insurance business, do you?

Oh? He appears to be rather good at it.

I've been wondering what he would say if I were to suggest

that he throw in his lot here with me for a while.

Throw in his lot?

Yes.

Louis' death has left quite a gap in the ranks.

Of course, I've still got Steve Early and Bill Hassett,

Hal Watson.

But nobody that's as close to me as Louis was.

There's certainly enough work for another...

Another what?

Assistant.

Secretary.

Secretarial assistant.

You're not serious.

Entirely serious. What do you think he'd say?

- I know what I'd say. - If you were he?

No, speaking for myself. I'd say absolutely not.

Oh?

In fact, I'd put it much stronger than that

and I'd say I simply won't hear of it.

- You won't? - No, I won't.

It's quite the worst idea you've had in all the years I've known you.

You've made your point. You're opposed.

Yes, I'm opposed. I should say I'm vehemently opposed

to your doing any such thing.

It's not unusual for a father

to want to take his eldest son into the family business.

But you're not in business.

A president who hires his own son

is open to every sort of charge of playing favorites.

And they'll make the son's life a hell.

He'll be accused of the same thing: Of giving favors.

And worse, of selling them.

Opportunists will woo him and use him

and then make a joke of him behind his back.

I don't see why I should be deprived of the boy's help

or the pleasure of having him with me just because I'm the president.

Is that the only consideration? Your pleasure?

How very selfish. Have you given at thought at what this would do to Jimmy?

All the criticism, the gossip, the malice and spite?

Somebody got out of bed on the wrong side this morning.

We'll talk about this another time.

We'll talk about it now.

What's the time?

I told you five minutes ago.

Tell me again.

You have a watch.

Babs, don't be disagreeable, for God's sake.

Not today. I'm asking you.

27... No, 28 past 11:00.

There's no need to be sarcastic.

I wasn't. Only precise.

Thank you.

If it takes this long, it can't be anything minor, can it?

I suppose it means they must have found some sort of malignancy.

Franklin, that's only James' fear.

Three of the best specialists here

examined him before surgery was recommended

and they all agreed it was an acute form of stomach ulcer.

- Nothing more. - Nothing more?

My God, woman, isn't that enough for you?

If it lies in your path to hurt me, well and good.

But why go out of your way?

I'm sorry.

We're both on edge.

I'm sorry, too.

It's just that I can't help thinking of...

I know.

It's in God's hands now.

We must simply...

know that he will be all right.

You said he'd be all right.

Just yesterday you said it.

He did seem to rally in the afternoon.

I honestly thought the crisis had passed.

He's going.

He's going. Please, anything. Something.

There's nothing.

James was sickly too at first.

But... But he came through.

James' heart was stronger.

We can't let him go.

We must call him back. Franklin?

Baby?

Baby, mother's own angel.

Open your eyes.

Big smile for Mommy, come on.

Come on.

Big smile for Mommy.

Show Mommy you can hear her.

He's gone.

In the morning. What time is it?

7:45.

His age was seven months.

Seven months and 14 days.

No, not quite 14. He won't have today.

Christ said, "Suffer the little children to come unto me."

Yes.

But oh, I should have liked to keep him.

You'll have another little boy.

- You'll call him Franklin. - Mama.

Babs.

No, don't. I'm all right.

He weighed 11 pounds when he was born.

Such a lovely big baby.

The biggest and loveliest of them all.

Where are you going? Shall I come with you?

No, thank you. Really, I'm all right.

Of course you are. I know that.

But you have been up all night.

- You sleep now. - No, no, I couldn't.

Then wash your face and hands and we'll have some breakfast.

Life goes on.

Remember, you have two others who'll be getting up soon

and wanting their mother.

Must be very brave and very strong for their sake.

Yes, Mama.

I am tickled pink to be able to tell you

that our boy is out of danger.

I want to thank you all

for what I can best describe as an understanding heart

on the part of the people of Rochester.

Indeed, of all Minnesota.

You've understood that I came here not as president, but as a father,

and have treated me accordingly.

On behalf of my wife and myself,

I would like to thank you for all your kindness.

Anything to say to the press, Mr. President?

Ah, not on this occasion, no.

- What paper? - Rochester Star.

Oh, I didn't see you this morning. What was your headline?

"Chamberlain Back From Munich, Predicts Peace in Our Time."

Well, looks as if we've all got something to be grateful for.

If we can believe it.

"Dear Mrs Stuyvesant,

In regard to my decision to resign my membership

in the Daughters of the American Revolution

due to their decision

that no Negro artist can be permitted to appear

in Constitution Hall,

I would say to you that I have always tried

to work actively within any organization

to which I belong...

to build from the inside.

But in this case,

I belonged to an organization

in which I could do no active work.

They had taken an action

which had been widely talked of in the press.

To remain a member

implied approval of that action.

Therefore, I resigned."

Just sign it "Sincerely." No, "Yours."

Her tone is really very patronizing.

It's almost time, isn't it?

Almost.

I'll put the radio on, shall I?

It's so slow warming up.

Yes, do.

Oh, Thommy, wait. Let's open the windows instead.

Do you think we'll be able to hear her from here?

Why not? There'll be amplifiers, loudspeakers.

Harold Ickes said they expect the crowd will stretch all the way up the Mall

to the Washington Monument.

That's almost as far from her as we are.

How I wish I could be there.

Oh, you should have gone.

No. I was advised that politically speaking,

it was the better part of valor to stay away.

It seems the party's already suffered losses in the South because of me.

Because you refused to sit in the white section

of that segregated auditorium in Birmingham.

Yes.

And anyway, it's not my day.

It's her day.

Listen.

How splendid of her to begin with that.

Not for the irony, not just for that.

For the pride.

The pride and common sense to say, "Look here, it is my country."

My country, right or wrong.

Yes. When people like us, who have had every benefit,

say that, it's one thing.

But when those who have had the least and have suffered the most,

the most injustice and the most indignity,

when they say it, when they refuse to give up on the country,

then that's what I call building from the inside.

Surely that's the noblest sort of patriotism there is.

It is very late,

but I have felt that you would rather that I speak to you now

than wait until tomorrow.

It is with a very full heart

that I speak to you tonight.

I must confess that I do so with some misgivings,

because I find myself, as almost everyone does

sooner or later in his lifetime,

in a conflict between deep personal desire

on the one hand,

and that quiet, invisible thing

called conscience on the other.

Like most men of my age,

I had made plans for myself,

plans for a private life of my own choice,

and for my own satisfaction,

a life of that kind to begin

in January, 1941.

Today, all private plans,

all private lives,

have been, in a sense, repealed

by an overriding public danger.

In the face of that public danger,

all those who can be of service to the Republic

have no choice but to offer themselves for service,

in those capacities for which they may be fitted.

The other day, President Roosevelt

gave his opponent in the late presidential election

a letter of introduction to me.

And in it, he wrote out a verse

in his own handwriting,

from Longfellow:

"Sail on, O Ship of State!

Sail on, O Union, strong and great!

Humanity with all its fears,

with all the hopes of future years,

is hanging breathless on thy fate."

What is the answer that I shall give

in your name to this great man?

Give us the tools

and we will finish the job!

This is Mayor LaGuardia's particular favorite.

He feels a really stylish uniform would encourage women to join.

To join the chorus line at Radio City Music Hall, by the look of it.

Forgive me, but I told Fiorello on the phone this morning,

we're dealing with civilian defense, not high fashion.

I shudder to think what something like that would cost.

It ought to be the simplest,

most inexpensive work uniform.

I happened to see something in a shop window the last time I was in New York:

Plain sort of coverall; blue-gray, cotton,

and priced under $3.00.

As a matter of fact, I have written down the style number.

Harry!

Excuse me a minute. Harry?

Can't stop. He's waiting for me.

- Did you forget about lunch? - Lunch, when?

- Today. - Oh golly, did we have a date?

We did. I waited for you.

Humble apologies, I got all wound up in this report:

Lend-Lease aid to Britain and the Allies.

Our problems didn't stop when we finally got the $7 billion from Congress;

they multiplied.

Perhaps we can have tea.

You've been so engrossed lately. I've missed you.

I miss our chats.

I can't possibly today. Give me a rain check, will you?

- Yes, of course. - First thing next week, maybe?

Whenever you can. I want to talk to you about the Youth Commission.

Their latest figures are quite startling.

It seems that more than a third of the country's unemployed

are under 24 years of age.

That really isn't my department, is it?

No, no, but I thought you might bring it to Franklin's attention.

With all the dangers in the world at large,

I'm afraid he's not as aware as he ought to be

that there's still a very real danger here at home

of a whole generation of disillusioned, alienated young people.

Eleanor, if you want the issue raised,

I honestly think you ought to do it yourself.

He's a trifle out of patience with me at the moment.

Me and my causes...

I'm sorry, I just have too much on my mind right now

to start fighting your battles.

Harry, I didn't mean that you should fight...

I can't keep him waiting.

Harry, dear boy!

Delicious!

Did he really call Mussolini an Italian sausage in a Sam Browne belt?

A fat Italian sausage.

Ha, ha!

A man after my own heart. Oh!

How I envy the time you spent with him in London.

Ha... oh, by the way,

I think you may be paying our friend Winston another visit next month.

Yes.

You'll like England in July.

No need to sleep in your overcoat the way you did the last time.

Although you may want to pack a pair of long johns for Moscow.

I'm told it gets quite chilly there at night, even in summer.

- Moscow? - Yes, didn't I tell you?

The thing is, I have to find out exactly what their needs are,

and how the goods can be delivered

before I can take public action on aid to Russia.

Boss, I consider that one hell of a happy challenge.

We'll talk it over thoroughly tonight.

I've got Cordell Hull in a few minutes.

Join Missy and me for the Children's Hour,

and you and I will have dinner in here on a tray.

Will do.

See you later.

Any old Secretaries of State lurking around out there?

No, but he's on his way up.

I like that man better every day.

Harry? I like him, too.

Mmm. Thousands don't.

I know, he can be awfully abrasive.

But not to us.

Not to us.

He's joining us for a drink later.

- Is that wise? - Oh, I'll see it's a mild one.

People think the cancer is still active because he looks so poorly.

The truth is, the last operation left him with some condition

that makes it hard for his system to take nourishment

from food and drink. Curious.

But not uncommon, apparently, when the stomach is involved.

I didn't mean that.

I mean, Louis ill for so long, now Harry.

They'll be saying the old boy likes to surround himself with his own kind.

You know, handicapped.

Anybody who thinks of you as handicapped

ought to try keeping up with you for about four hours of any average day.

Fact is, I hate sickness.

I hate to be around it.

I know that.

I've always known that about you.

That's why I'm always the picture of health.

What's the matter, child?

Nerves a bit raw today?

You could say that.

One of those days when I wake up and think,

"No, I just can't take it. It is too much."

And then I think,

"Good Lord, if it's like that for me,

what must it be like for you?"

There's your old Secretary of State.

Marguerite?

When did you last call me that?

What would you say to a few quiet days on the yacht,

if we can steal the time this summer?

Don't make any promises you can't keep.

Apropos of which,

you are coming down the staff party tonight?

But I thought Eleanor was going to officiate this year?

How? By telephone from Seattle?

Oh.

At least put in an appearance.

You do tend to take it for granted

that people know how grateful you are for services rendered.

The fact is, we all need a little pat on the head now and then.

They'll be very disappointed if you don't show up.

I'll be down... Boss.

Are you still ladling that stuff?

No, that's the end of it.

Well, praise the Lord for small favors.

Now, will you go to bed? There's no earthly reason for you to stay.

The boss left an hour ago.

These die-hards won't stop till the lights go out.

Everybody said it was the best staff party in years.

You did a terrific job in Mrs. Howard's absence.

But what a price.

You look tireder than I've ever seen you.

I feel like yesterday's gardenias.

Then will you kindly scram?

Okay.

Oh, good, another rendition by the poor man's Andrews Sisters.

That's sure to clear the room.

It was a nice party, though, wasn't it?

Very nice.

- Isn't it funny? - What?

Oh, this afternoon I was complaining

about the work, the pressure.

Sometimes I get so sick of those two dinky little rooms of mine

on the third floor,

and I think I am going to get out,

I'm going to find an easy, sensible 9-to-5 job,

and a big, comfortable apartment.

Mmm-hmm.

Who am I kidding?

Look at me... little Marguerite LeHand from Somerset, Mass

living in the White House.

Living history, for gosh sakes.

I was 22 years old

the day that man dropped by his old campaign headquarters

looking for a part-time secretary.

He'd just lost the race for Vice President.

But he sure looked like a winner to me.

Still, I was an independent little snip.

Us Irish Catholic kids, right?

And I said, "Well, I don't know.

Give me time to think it over."

And I took all of... What's that?

What's what?

What's happening?

Don't let me fall.

- Don't let me fall. - Missy, what is wrong?

Miss... Dear God. Missy?

Any improvement?

Well, little Miss LeHand.

You're looking very chipper this morning.

Isn't she, Mother?

The new bed jacket is beautiful, Missy.

And look at all those flowers.

I knew you had admirers, but good grief, child, I never realized how many.

I had such a nice letter from your sister this morning.

I've arranged for a car to meet her at the station when her train arrives.

I know how pleased you'll be to see her again.

Speaking of mail, mine is in an awful mess

without you there to sort it out.

And I've no one to laugh over the funny bits with.

Oh, here's one you'll like. Came yesterday,

addressed to "FDR," and then in parentheses, it said,

"Franklin Dillinger Roosevelt." D... Don't you love it?

If you could see the way the work's piling up on your desk,

you'd realize how indispensable you are.

Grace has taken on a temporary till you get back,

but frankly, the woman gives me the pip.

Speaking of desks, I better high-tail it back to mine.

Now, you hurry up and get well, you hear?

That is an order.

Official, highest priority.

No, no, child, don't.

Don't try, it's all right.

Father understands.

I'll see you soon.

The President of the United States

and Prime Minister Churchill

have met at sea.

They have agreed upon the following joint declaration,

dated August 10th, 1941:

After the final destruction of the Nazi tyranny,

they hope to see established a peace

which will afford assurance that all men

in all lands may live out their lives

in freedom from fear and want.

Yes? Come in, Grace.

Grace is gone for the day.

Oh yes, of course. What time is it?

It's almost dinnertime.

No cocktails tonight?

I didn't feel like drinking alone.

Well, I'll have one with you, if you like

just to keep you company.

No, thanks, that's very noble of you,

but I don't want your downfall on my conscience.

Ah, what did you want to ask me? Or tell me?

Must I have a motive for dropping in?

It's not that you must, just that you almost invariably do.

Well, let's have it. Louis always said I was the politician

and you were the agitator. Agitate.

Really, there's nothing.

What a relief for both of us that you don't have to harangue me anymore

about doing this for the young or that for the Negroes, or...

just unemployment, generally.

Between the draft and defense work,

most of our big social problems

seem to be solving themselves automatically.

Yes,

but isn't it a shame that it took the threat of war to do it?

It's a shame...

but it's not our shame. Look at this.

This is what I'm dealing with all day long...

the carnage in Europe, in Russia,

in Africa, Indochina,

misery, death.

I can't remember a time when I have been more continually battered,

morning, noon, and night, than this past week.

Firebrands like Stimson and Morgenthau pushing for heroic action now,

this minute.

And the other side saying, "No, no, easy does it. Extreme caution.

That's our only hope."

And what a time for Harry to be in New York.

He said it would just be this weekend, and now it's Monday night

and he's not back.

Get my chariot, would you?

- Babs? - Hm?

You couldn't have a word in his ear...

just, you know, strictly as if it were your own idea?

Just remind him how important he's become around here,

and how much I depend on his always being available.

Okay, Griselda, what's wrong?

- What's wrong? - Wrong?

When you don't like something,

such as my asking you to talk to Harry,

you stand or sit so straight

your back has no give.

No bend, you mean?

No bend, no give. What's the problem?

Really, I'd rather not.

I meant it when I said I didn't come in for anything special,

and certainly not to complain. I know how tired you are.

Yes, I'm bone tired

and I'm irritable. I'm annoyed at Harry,

and I'm going to be annoyed with you in a minute

if you don't tell me what's the problem.

There is no problem.

Come on, there must be something between you two.

I should say just the opposite.

There's nothing between us.

Not anymore.

Since when?

Well, if you want the exact time...

I'd say from the day

you invited him to live here in the White House,

to have Louis' old room.

What exactly did he do?

It's quite simple, really.

- He dropped me. - Dropped you?

Just as quickly as he found he'd gained your complete confidence.

But why didn't you say something to me then?

I was too shocked.

More than that, I was desperately hurt.

After all, I'd wanted him here every bit as much as you,

perhaps more.

So many times, when it seemed we'd lost touch altogether,

I thought perhaps Harry might reconcile our differences

the way Louis always managed to.

Look...

Louis was a perfect sort of liaison

between you and me, I agree,

but Harry has a much more important role to play.

Twice now, he's functioned

with enormous success between Churchill and me,

once between Stalin and me.

Don't you think that's rather more important?

In a large historical sense, yes, I suppose it is,

but I wasn't looking at it from that perspective.

No, I'd say you weren't.

I'd say you were looking at it from a fairly niggling, small-minded,

not to mention, myopic, point of view.

That's rather harsh.

Well yes, damn it, I'm beginning to feel rather harsh

about this entire conversation,

namely because it brings out a not very admirable side of your nature,

this quirk you have of insisting

on total and consuming loyalty

from everyone you admit

to the charmed circle of your affection.

All your old chums, your protegeés...

it's no secret how they dote on you.

You don't require total and consuming devotion from your friends?

I'm not aware of it.

No, I suppose you're not.

Missy?

Louis?

And now Harry?

You're not aware of how utterly absorbed they become in you

until finally they have no life of their own,

no existence independent of yours?

And your Miss Thompson? Your Thommy?

What about her?

You can't even get her to take a vacation once a year.

She'd be completely lost if she got more than 200 yards from you.

It appears we both take quite a lot from others

without fully realizing how much.

Yes.

But is it because we ask for it,

or because they volunteer it?

Is it mainly our need?

Or theirs?

I expect it's both.

If one were to pursue the matter,

and I'm not all sure I care to,

it might lead to another rather interesting question:

Did we choose each other

because we're the way we are,

or are we the way we are because we chose each other?

Interesting.

What on earth?

What are they?

Bombers.

B-17 s from the look of them.

In my garden?

On their way to the English, most likely...

or the Russians.

Why can't they fly more quietly,

or higher, or somewhere else?

We were never bothered with this sort of thing in 1918.

Were you with us in 1918, Plog?

Ma'am, I was with you in 1895.

Been here 46... no,

47 years come next April.

Am I wrong?

We aren't even in this war,

and it seems to me it's far more intrusive than the last one.

Well of course, they didn't have flying fortresses back then,

just them little bitty fighter planes.

Yes, and they knew their place.

I don't like it, Plog.

L-like what, ma'am?

Change.

Oh.

Plog?

- Plog? - Ma'am?

Mr. Plog, would you step 'round here, please?

I... I need your help.

Ah... oh.

Mrs. Roosevelt!

- Well. - Oh.

W-what happened?

What happened? I fell down, what do you think happened?

But I mean, why?

Why? Because I'm 87 years old, that's why.

Don't ask asinine questions. Help me up, man.

Help me up.

Wait, ah!

- There. - Careful now, ma'am.

Careful.

Careful.

Oh.

Now, can you walk?

Can I walk?

I'll walk to your funeral, you silly old thing,

and you're years younger than I am.

Oh, take me back to the house now, Plog.

I'll be down to help you again tomorrow.

Mama had a very wonderful end.

She had been somewhat of an invalid all summer,

but was back from Campobello for a week

and enjoyed Franklin's stay at home,

though she had a slight temperature.

About Saturday, midnight,

a clot in the lung caused a circulatory collapse,

and she became unconscious and remained so

until her breathing stopped

at noon last Sunday.

I looked at my mother-in-law's face

after she was dead,

and understood so many things I'd never seen before.

It is dreadful to have lived so close to someone for 36 years,

and feel no deep affection or sense of loss.

Oh, what's all this?

"His first sailboat.

Launched in the bathtub, Hyde Park,

Christmas Day.

1886."

It appears she saved everything...

your toys, your christening dress,

little gifts you gave her.

Everything is tagged and dated.

There's even a lock of your baby hair.

"His first pair of shoes."

I've just remembered something I must do downstairs.

Mama! Ah!

- How's your pudding? - Fine.

- Liar. - No, this is all right.

I just had four weeks of hospital food, remember?

Is it homemade?

Canned.

Everything around here is either canned or cooked to death.

Yes?

Yes, Hacky.

No, no, I've just finished.

You know I'm expecting a call from Secretary Hull, don't you?

Be sure to put him straight through.

Right. Right.

Cordell is with Ambassador Nomura.

And the special envoy. What's his name?

- Starts with a "K." - Kurusu.

- Saburo Kurusu. - Ah, so.

He's the one that got the message to me privately through Bonnie B.,

that he wants peace and the emperor wants peace,

but that the Japanese warlords, to use his phrase,

"are sitting with a loaded gun in each hand, determined to shoot."

I hope he's right about Hirohito.

The message I sent him last night

urging him to stop the Jap movement into Indochina

was completely unprecedented, you know.

Channeled directly from me to him.

When will he get it, do you know?

Oh, let's see. What with the time lag,

assuming the Imperial Divinity crawls out of the sack

around 7:00 like the rest of us poor mortals,

he ought to be reading it within the next three or four hours.

This would be my call from the State Department.

Yes, Cordell?

Ah... oh, Hacky?

What?

Uh-huh. Uh-huh.

Yes, put him through.

I was wrong. It's the Navy.

Frank. Hello.

What news on this pleasant Sunday afternoon?

- No. - What's wrong?

What's happened?

Yesterday, December 7th, 1941,

a date which will live in infamy.

The United States of America

was suddenly and deliberately attacked

by naval and air forces

of the empire of Japan.

Yesterday...

the Japanese government also launched

an attack against Malaya.

Last night, Japanese forces

attacked Hong Kong.

Last night, Japanese forces attacked Guam.

Last night, Japanese forces

attacked the Philippine Islands.

Last night, the Japanese attacked Wake Island.

And this morning, the Japanese

attacked Midway Island.

With confidence in our armed forces,

with the unbounding determination of our people,

we will gain the inevitable triumph,

so help us God!

I ask that the Congress declare

that since the unprovoked and dastardly attack

by Japan

on Sunday, December 7th, 1941,

a state of war has existed

between the United States

and the Japanese empire.

- Good luck. - Thank you, Tully.

You're off, are you?

Yes, in a few minutes.

What a turmoil the place is in.

They're fitting all the windows with black-out curtains.

The grounds are aswarm with extra Secret Service men

and military police with bayonets.

They're setting up sentry boxes at the gates and gun crews on the roof.

I know.

Noticed my latest gadget?

- Yes, I've got one too. - Hideous thing.

Is there any report on the casualties at Pearl Harbor?

Well, the figures are still coming in.

It looks pretty bad.

2,000 dead by latest count.

More ships destroyed in one hour than in the whole of the first war.

One question I'm bound to be asked on this trip

that everyone seems to be asking today

is how on Earth were we caught sleeping in that way?

Don't you suppose I'm asking it too?

It appears...

the Navy assumed the Army was on full alert.

The Army thought the Navy was maintaining

air reconnaissance all around the island.

I don't know where to pin the blame.

You can be sure there will be plenty who will pin it squarely on me.

Yes, inevitably.

You are Commander in Chief, after all.

They'll say you should have known.

Hm. And the ones who will say it the loudest

are the ones who screamed "Warmonger"

every time a new bomber rolled off the assembly line.

It's beyond belief,

the flood of idiot advice and warnings

and instructions that's been pouring through the switchboard all day today.

You'll be cheered to learn

that a good part of the lunatic fringe

maintains the West Coast is now totally indefensible.

You still want to go to California tonight?

Yes.

I thought you would.

I'm not worried about being caught in an air raid

or a submarine bombardment, or what have you.

I am worried about the American Japanese,

with feeling running so high against Japan itself.

Someone's got to speak up on their behalf.

That won't be a popular stand just at the moment.

I don't expect it to be.

I can't tell you how I envy you the chance to go sailing off this way.

I'm not sailing, I'm flying.

It galls me to think that I might be stuck in my chair

for the duration. Me and my guards

and my gas mask. My God.

You'd think I had some kind of infirmity.

Any final instructions?

Be a good girl. Keep your nose clean.

Hurry back. I'll be waiting for a full report.

- Bye-bye. - Bye-bye.

Grace, I'll see Admiral Leahy now.

This war is a new kind of war.

It is different from all other wars of the past,

not only in its methods and weapons,

but also in its geography.

It is warfare in terms of every continent,

every island, every sea,

every air lane in the world.

We must understand and face the harsh fact

that our job now is to fight at distances

which extend all the way around the globe.

We have most certainly suffered losses,

from Hitler's U-Boats in the Atlantic,

as well as from the Japanese in the Pacific.

We shall suffer more of them before the turn of the tide.

But we are daily increasing our strength.

From Berlin, Rome, and Tokyo,

we have been described as a nation of weaklings.

Let them tell that to General MacArthur

and his men.

Let them tell that to the sailors

who today are hitting hard

in the far waters of the Pacific.

Let them tell that to the boys

in the flying fortresses.

Let them tell that to the Marines.

"These are the times that try men's souls"...

Tom Paine wrote those words on a drum head

by the light of a campfire.

The summer soldier and the sunshine patriot

will, in this crisis,

shrink from the service of their country.

But he that stands it now,

deserves the love and thanks

of man and woman.

I recognize the Secret Service.

I believe the President's there as well.

Not possible.

Good Lord, you're right.

What do you suppose it means?

That he's missed you.

That he's anxious for my report.

Look who insisted on coming down to meet you.

Hello, Fala. Hello

Hello.

Have a good flight?

Cold. The company was good.

A crew of pilots coming back from delivering a bomber.

Look. They signed my short snorter.

That's proof that I've made a transatlantic flight.

Oh, there's a letter to you from Elliott.

Much faster than normal air mail.

How'd he look?

Handsome, as always.

Terribly young.

Dear bunny.

He's somewhere in Africa by this time.

Yes. I saw him just before his squadron took off.

Please, God, he'll be all right.

Please God.

Brod in Italy. Jim in the Pacific.

Johnny's fed up with the Navy supply car.

He's bucking for combat. Nothing's going to stop him.

No one can say the family's not seeing the world,

- with one notable exception. - Anna?

No, not Anna.

But look, here you are.

You're not stuck behind a desk as this minute.

You're out of the White House, at least.

Yes, I've got this far.

- It's something. - It's a start.

The famed Africa corps of Field Marshal Rommel

is being mopped up in the deserts of North Africa

by combined British and American forces.

Franklin Delano Roosevelt is the first president

ever to leave the continental United States in wartime,

and he is the first president since Lincoln

ever to visit a battle zone.

At Casablanca in North Africa,

Roosevelt and Churchill affect a reconciliation

between French generals Giroux and DeGaul.

I cannot tell you when or where

the United Nations are going to strike next in Europe.

But I can tell you that no matter where

and when we strike by land,

we and the British, and the Russians,

will hit them from the air heavily,

and relentlessly.

Yes, the Nazis and the fascists have asked for it

and they are going to get it.

The massed, angered forces of common humanity

are on the march.

The first crack in the Axis has come.

The criminal, corrupt fascist regime in Italy

is going to pieces.

In the Pacific, we are pushing the Japs around

from the Aleutians to New Guinea.

There too we have taken the initiative

and we are not going to let go of it.

Our naval, land, and air strength in the Pacific is constantly growing.

All our calculations for the future, however,

must be based on clear understanding

of the problems involved.

Plans we made for the knocking out of Mussolini

and his gang have largely succeeded.

But we still have to knock out Hitler and his gang,

and Tojo and his gang.

None of us pretends that this will be an easy matter.

I'm so sorry I can't sing

the way Mr. Jolson did when he was here.

Or tell jokes like Mr. Hope.

I do know Bob often gets a laugh

talking about how seldom I'm ever home.

And here I am, living proof.

I did hear a rather funny story

when I was in New Zealand the other day.

It seems there was this very unhappy Marine

on one of the islands,

and his captain said, "What's wrong?"

And he said, "Well, sir, we're leaving tomorrow,

and I'm the only one in my platoon

who hasn't shot a Jap yet."

And his captain said, "Look,

you go up on the ridge tonight,

and you yell, 'To hell with Hirohito! '

And a Japanese soldier will jump up

out of his foxhole, and you'll have your target."

Well, the next day, the Marine was even sadder than before.

And he told the captain,

"I did just what you said, sir.

I went up on the ridge

and I yelled, 'To hell with Hirohito,'

and a Japanese soldier jumped up out of his foxhole."

And the captain said, "That's wonderful. Did you shoot him?"

"No."

"Why not?" "Well, when he jumped up,

he yelled, 'To hell with Roosevelt,'

and sir, I couldn't shoot a fellow Republican."

I think we better get moving, ma'am.

It's a long, rough haul to the air strip.

Yes, all right. Just a few more minutes.

I'll bring the jeep around front.

Is there anything I can do?

Anyone at home I might write to or telephone?

No, thank you.

Perhaps there's someone you'd like me to go and see?

Now you're kidding.

No, I'm not. Where do you live?

About as far as you can get from Washington D.C.

- Where? - Washington state.

What town?

Little town on the Cowlitz River.

You've never heard of it.

Nobody did. It's called Randal.

How far is that from Seattle?

80, 85 miles.

I have a daughter who lives in Seattle.

And three grandchildren.

I visit them every chance I get.

I hope to see them quite soon.

I'd be happy to drive out and see your family.

My mom. The old man's dead.

I'm sorry.

Boy, you better not drop in on my mom.

She just might keel over if she ever saw you coming up the front walk.

Oh dear, she voted for Wilkie, did she?

No. No, I didn't mean that.

I mean, on account of... you know.

She reads your column every day.

She always listens to you on the radio.

As for the president, why, she thinks

he's one of the two greatest men of the century...

him and Will Rogers.

When Will Rogers was killed in that plane crash,

she cried more for him than she did when my dad died.

She still goes to church every morning

and lights a candle for both their souls.

And one for Mr. Roosevelt, of course.

And one for you, I hope.

Oh, yeah, sure.

That I won't get hurt or anything.

You haven't told her.

No.

She knows I'm in a hospital.

She thinks I just caught a little piece of shrapnel when my ship got hit.

Isn't there anything at all I can do?

Sure.

Maybe, after the war is over,

you can drop on down to Randal sometime

and maybe buy a pencil off me.

Are you planning to sell pencils?

Isn't that what one-legged veterans do, traditionally speaking?

No, I'd call that a cliché, not a tradition.

What would you advise?

Whatever you wanted to do before.

And what if I told you I wanted to be a tap dancer or a long distance runner?

I'd say your chances were somewhat limited.

I'd say that was a considerable understatement of the facts.

What did you want to be, really?

A lawyer.

Then be a lawyer.

My husband's working very hard to see that veterans

will have the means to finish their education.

He was a lawyer once, you know?

But what he really always wanted to be was president.

And look.

He didn't have his leg shot off.

He might has well have had both shot off

for all the good they are to him.

- Is that true? - Yes.

It's not widely known, simply because he hates pity.

His own or anyone else's.

He likes to feel he succeeded in spite of his handicap,

and not because of it.

Well, Robert, that certainly puts you in your place.

Is your name Robert?

Yes.

Robert what?

Robert Dunlap.

Then your mother...

is Mrs. Dunlap?

Anne. Mrs. Anne Dunlap.

And with an "e"?

With an "e," yes.

227 Hillview Street.

- Randal, Washington. - Right.

Ah... listen.

You think maybe if you were the one to sort of break it to her...

I mean,

I think about the first time I hobble in there

and she sees me, you know?

Now, let's see if I've got this right.

Mrs. Anne Dunlap,

227 Hillview Street,

Randal, Washington.

I have just returned from extensive journeyings

in the region of the Mediterranean

and as far as the borders of Russia.

Less than a month ago,

I flew in a big Army transport plane

over the little town of Bethlehem, in Palestine.

Tonight, on Christmas Eve,

men and women everywhere who love Christmas

are thinking about that ancient town

and of the star of faith that shone there

or than 19 centuries ago.

God bless all of you

who fight our battles on this Christmas Eve.

God bless us all.

God keep us strong in our faith,

that we fight for a better day

for humankind...

here and everywhere.

Thank you, Mr. President.

We're off the air.

- Just all right? - You were wonderful.

- Oh, thank you. - As always.

"Then all the Cratchit family

drew 'round the hearth...

and at Bob Cratchit's elbow stood the family display of glass...

two tumblers and a custard cup without a handle.

These held the hot stuff, and Bob served it out with beaming looks,

while the chestnuts on the fire sputtered and crackled noisily."

Mommy.

"'Merry Christmas to us all!

God bless us.'

Which all the family re-echoed."

Now, who remembers what comes next?

"God bless us, every one."

Said Tiny Tim, the last of all.

He sat close by his father's side,

upon his little stool.

Bob held the withered little hand in his own,

as if he loved the child,

and wished him to be near.

And dreaded that he might be taken from him."

Babs?

Excuse me, I'll be back in a minute.

"'Spirit! ' said Scrooge,

with an interest he had never felt before.

'Tell me if Tiny Tim will live.'

'L see a vacant seat,' replied the spirit,

'in the poor chimney corner.

If these shadows remain unaltered by the future,

the child will die."'

Oh, everybody's off to bed!

- Good night. - Oh, good night, sweetheart.

- Santa Claus... - Mama!

Will come early tomorrow morning. Good night, Buzzie.

- Good night, everyone. - Good night.

Good night, Franklin.

Oh!

- Good night, dears. - Good night.

- Merry Christmas. - Good night.

Merry Christmas, Anna.

- Sleep well. - You, too.

How many years have I been reading this on Christmas Eve?

Ooh, since Anna was a baby. 35?

At least.

I suddenly felt my age.

Franklin the third called me "Granny" just now.

Ah.

My mother used to call me that when I was no older than he is

because I was such a solemn little girl.

I've finally grown up to the name.

Do you realize what we're doing?

- What? - Something historic.

Tell me.

We're having a quiet moment alone.

How long has it been since we've done that?

A very long time.

Why did you leave halfway through the performance?

I felt like Jack Benny in that movie

where he was an actor playing Hamlet.

And every time he said, "To be or not to be,"

somebody in the first row got up and left the theater.

Mm?

It was just that you'd come to the part about...

dreading a child might be taken.

I looked at Johnny and Brod in their uniforms

and I thought of Elliott and James

so many thousands of miles away

and in God knows what sort of danger.

We don't talk like that.

I know.

Sorry, it's just that I had a letter today.

From one of the boys?

No, from a woman, a... a stranger,

I don't remember her name.

I don't want to.

What did she say?

Oh, a lot of unpleasant things.

But one phrase stood out from all the rest,

and I doubt if I shall ever be able to forget it.

She said, in just so many words,

"I hope your sons are killed."

Oh, Babs.

What a world.

Yes.

One more year.

A year and a few days.

You mean if the war ends before the next election.

You've never left a job unfinished in your life.

Last night, June 5th,

when I spoke with you about the fall of Rome,

I knew at that moment that troops of the United States

and our allies,

were crossing the Channel in another and greater operation.

It has come to pass to success,

thus far.

And so, in this poignant hour,

I ask you to join with me in prayer.

Almighty God,

our sons, pride of our nation,

this day have set upon a mighty endeavor,

a struggle to preserve our republic,

and to set free a suffering humanity.

Lead them straight,

and true.

Give strength to their arms,

stoutness to their hearts,

steadfastness to their faith.

Republican leaders have not been content with attacks on me

or my wife,

or my sons.

They now include my little dog, Fala.

You know, Fala is Scotch.

Soon as he heard the fiction that I'd left him behind

on the Aleutian Islands and then sent a destroyer back to find him

at a cost to the taxpayer of two or three

or eight, or $20 million,

his Scotch soul was furious.

He's not been the same dog since.

Ha! You're ready, are you?

Well, tell me all about it.

Tell me all about it.

Roll over. Roll over.

You remember the last time?

Just as we were leaving?

He got up in the car, in your mother's seat,

and we had to pry him out of there.

I remember. I thought for sure he'd be taking my place

- on the Capitol steps. - Good morning.

Good morning. Good morning.

Hey! What's that for?

For being home today.

You didn't think I'd let a war keep me away, did you?

After all, I was at all three inaugurations so far.

If there's one thing we believe in in the Marines,

it's maintaining a perfect record.

You're not going out without a coat

or your cape, at least. It's freezing.

I've got my woolies on.

I think this is sensible, don't you? Holding the ceremony here,

without the expense of a parade, and all the rest of it.

I'm too busy. The world's too busy

for that kind of falderal right now.

I, Franklin Delano Roosevelt,

do solemnly swear that I will faithfully execute the office

of President of the United States.

And will, to the best of my ability,

preserve, protect and defend

the Constitution of the United States.

- So help you God. - So help me God.

Cablegram.

Roosevelt to Marshal Stalin.

Top secret.

March 29, 1945.

I must make it quite plain...

to you...

that any solution

which would result

in a thinly disguised continuance

of the present Warsaw regime...

would be

unacceptable...

and would cause the people of the United States...

to regard the Yalta Agreement

as having failed.

See that there's a copy for the record,

and one to Prime Minister Churchill.

And you better hurry home and pack a bag.

I'm all packed.

My bags are downstairs.

All those? I won't have time.

Just your signature.

I'm so damn tired.

I'll come back for them.

You know, you're right. There really isn't time.

Anyway, it isn't anything that can't wait till we get to Warm Springs.

I'll shove them in my briefcase.

Thank you, child.

- See you on the train. - Right.

Ah, what timing!

- Is he free? - Mrs. R.

Come in, Babs. Leave it open, Grace.

Prettyman's coming in directly.

I thought we were going to miss connections.

Oh, so did I.

I asked Thommy where you were,

and she said, "She's in jail."

I said, "I'm not surprised, but what for?"

Yes, I went down to the women's prison again.

- Are you all ready to go? - Yes.

Anna ready?

Anna's not coming.

Little Johnny's fever is worse.

Oh no.

They now think the glands may be infected.

Is she at the hospital?

I'll go over there right away.

You look a bit down. Is there anything else?

No, no.

Winston has asked me to take a stand with him

about the Russians in Poland.

I've just fired off a cable to Uncle Joe.

We'll see what good it does.

Other than that, the news is all cheerful.

Everything going our way in Germany,

in the Philippines.

Latest reconnaissance photos of Tokyo

indicate the damage is far greater than they've ever admitted.

The car is waiting, Mr. President.

I'll be right there. You go ahead.

Take that stuff with you.

Good Lord.

I used to do that with the greatest of ease

when we first moved in here.

Well, you were 51 then. You're 63 now.

Don't rub it in.

You will get plenty of rest the next few weeks.

- And gain some weight. - I have to.

I want to be in top form when we go to San Francisco on the 24th

to launch the United Nations conference,

and sign the charter.

How I'm looking forward to that.

I am, too.

That'll be enough excitement for April.

Then in June,

you and I will take Winston up on his invitation

and pay a State visit to England.

But we can't possibly.

I mean, you can't. It's dangerous.

The Germans are desperate now. They might do anything.

No, honestly. Honestly, we can't go while the war's on.

The war in Europe will be over

by the end of May.

You say that with such certainty.

Because I'm certain.

This is a perfect time of year for Warm Springs...

sunny days, cool nights,

the Judas tree is turning red.

Shrubs just beginning to flower.

The scent of pine in the air.

Washington's not so bad just now, come to that.

It's a beautiful day out.

And the wisteria on the south portico is in full bloom.

You know what I think we ought to do when we leave here?

I've seen so much of the near East in the past couple of years.

I think I'd like to move out there and live.

I feel quite an expert.

I believe I... I could help straighten out any number of problems

they're going to be facing after the war.

It's something to talk about.

Yes, we'll talk about it when I get back.

You know, when I met lbn Saud on my way home from Yalta,

I didn't seem to make much headway with the old hawk

about letting Jewish refugees into Palestine.

But I think in time...

I could bring him around.

I gave him my other chariot just like this one

for a gift, did I tell you?

He and I speak the same language.

We're a pair of used-up old invalids.

- I'll be seeing you. - Hurry back.

Bye-bye.

Bye-bye.

You said a moment before he fainted,

you looked over to see him smiling at someone. At whom?

Mrs. Rutherford was here.

Mrs. Rutherford?

Lucy. You remember. She used to be Lucy Mercer.

Dear Thommy.

What can I do for you?

Nothing at the moment.

They'll be setting up chairs for the service in the East Room.

Perhaps you could check the invitation list

to makes sure there's enough.

Oh, and Thommy?

Would you ask my daughter to come in for a moment?

Ah, the lovely Lucy.

- New hat? - Like it?

It suits you perfectly.

You don't think the feather's a little too daring?

Not on you. Beauty has its privileges, after all.

You'll spoil me with talk like that.

Lucy?

Oh, my God.

Darling, you shouldn't have.

I shouldn't have?

I?

Who is it?

It's Anna.

Anna, come in.

Thommy said you wanted to see me.

Yes, come in.

Did you know that Anthony Eden's downstairs?

He asked if he could come up.

In a little while.

He told me the most marvelous thing.

He said that in Japan last night,

Radio Tokyo interrupted a program with the news of Pa's death,

and then said, "We will now have an interlude of special music

in honor of the passing of this great man."

In Tokyo. Can you imagine?

I thought Pa would like that.

Yes, I'm sure he would.

Did you see this?

No, what?

The editorial.

It's just typical.

You think of all the hideous things they said about him,

when he was alive.

Almost every newspaper in the country at one time or another.

And now, this is the sort of thing they all have to say.

"A great and gallant wartime leader

has died almost in the very hour of the victory to which he led the way.

History will honor him above all else

because he had the vision to see clearly the supreme crisis of our times

and the courage to meet that crisis boldly.

Men will thank God on their knees

a hundred years from now

that Franklin D. Roosevelt was in the White House

in that dark hour when a powerful and ruthless barbarism

threatened to overrun the civilization of the Western World."

I'll leave this for you.

Anna?

Oh, the Chicago Daily News,

if you can believe it...

that die-hard Republican rag...

compared him to Moses

dying before his followers reached the land of promise.

Anna, I want to ask you something.

Fire away.

Did you know that Lucy Mercer...

Mrs. Rutherford...

was at Warm Springs with your father when he was stricken?

No, I didn't.

Is that the truth?

Yes, of course it is.

What makes you think she was?

His cousin Laura told me as much not long after I arrived there.

Well, that was charming of her.

She told me something else later,

in the train coming back.

Nothing cheerful, I'm sure.

She said Lucy had been here, at the White House,

in my absence.

Oh. Did she?

She said to her certain knowledge,

Lucy had been her at least twice,

both times for dinner.

I said, "No.

That wasn't possible.

Not with Anna there keeping her father company.

She wouldn't have permitted it."

And what did the tactful and discreet Miss Delano say to that?

She said, "Oh, Anna was there all right.

Anna acted as hostess on both occasions."

Dear Auntie.

It's true, then?

Yes.

I can't believe it.

It's true.

But why? Why would you do that?

Because Pa asked me.

"Because Pa asked me."

"Because Pa asked me."

"Because Pa asked me."

Mother?

Don't be hurt.

What an extraordinary thing to say.

"Don't be hurt"?

At least, don't be angry.

Angry.

I'm furious.

I am as angry at this moment as I have ever been in my life.

All right. But at me, not at Pa.

Oh, you have your share. Never fear.

I won't leave you out, you of all possible people.

I could bear it if it had been Laura or Daisy

or anyone of his adoring handmaidens,

but my own daughter?

The only one of my children I had ever told about Lucy.

I should have thought that you, of everyone in the world,

knowing the suffering that I went through all those years ago,

might have understood,

might have tried to protect me.

I did.

How? By welcoming that woman?

By feeding her at my table?

By sitting at my chair and making it look

as if her visit had an official sanction?

By trying to keep you from finding out.

And I don't believe you ever would have if Pa hadn't died the way he did.

Not even Laura would ever have dared to breathe a word

while he was alive.

But what a wicked game of chance you were all playing with my feelings.

And how cruel of him to run the risk

of having her there when he died.

Mother, he didn't know he was dying.

Oh, he knew he was ill!

Not that ill!

Well, sure, it was risky. It was foolhardy.

It was dangerous, if you like.

But don't you remember what you once said

after you'd flown to England and back

in really hazardous conditions?

You said, it wasn't that you were especially brave.

It was just that, like most people,

you weren't given to seeing yourself disappear off the face of the earth.

Well, Pa was the same way.

It's not as if he wanted Lucy with him in his last hour

or anything like that.

It was quite the opposite.

She cheered him up.

She knew how to get him to relax a little and laugh.

God, how he needed that.

He trusted the people who knew.

And he figured that now that her husband was dead,

He could see her once in a while,

without anybody being the wiser.

You knew...

that when we agreed not to separate,

that he promised that they would never see each other again.

You knew that he had sworn to that

on his honor.

Mother, he was so lonely.

Forgive my saying it,

but you were away so much.

And so many of the people he cared about had died...

Louis and his mother,

and then Missy last summer.

He never stopped being fond of Harry,

but Harry was in the hospital most of the time.

I tried to fill in.

I was always there with a joke or a snappy remark.

I'd mix the cocktails when he was too tired to fix them himself.

And I sat up with him at night,

while he played Solitaire or worked on his stamp collection.

Just so he wouldn't feel alone.

But finally...

it was all pretty futile.

He was reaching for something, way far back,

back in his past,

back when he was young and strong and full of the devil.

When he was something a woman could look at

and fall head-over-heels in love with.

That's how he was when he gave you his promise.

And while he stayed that way, and for a long time after,

I believe he kept it.

But then, when he broke it,

he was something entirely different.

And so was she.

She's middle aged, you know.

She's not the siren you remember.

Just a nice, middle aged, New Jersey matron.

With a pleasant voice and a streak of silver in her hair.

If you'd ever seen them together,

you'd know how little reason you have to feel jealous

or betrayed.

It was all so innocent.

And so sad.

Strange.

I suddenly thought of the last time I saw him.

He was in the elevator.

Talking about...

what we might do after leaving the White House.

I was so touched...

by the way he seemed to take it for granted

that we'd always be together.

I wanted to say just one more thing to him.

I wanted to repeat something I'd written to him

in a letter years ago,

when he was governor,

and he took a trip to Europe without me.

"I hate to see you go.

We really are very dependent on each other,

even though we do see so little of each other.

I feel as lost as I did

when I went abroad without you.

Dear love to you.

I miss you.

And I hate to feel you so far away."

Of course I never said anything at all.

Except "Bye-bye."

And then the elevator doors closed and he was gone.

You know...

when Elliott and Faye arrived last night,

he and I sat up late in Pa's bedroom.

And he remembered what Pa had said to him

the last time the two of them had sat in there.

He talked about things easing up now that the end of the war was in sight.

And he said, "You know,

I think your mother and I might be able to get together now

and do things together.

Take some trips, maybe.

Learn to know each other again."

Did he say that?

His exact words.

That we might learn to know each other again?

Well, you can ask Bunny. He'll tell you.

No, no.

I believe you.

How beautiful the flowers are today.

Have you noticed?

The lilac and the azalea and rhododendron.

I'm so glad he left instructions

to bury him in the rose garden at Hyde Park...

instead of St. James Cemetery.

Near the sundial where he played when he was little.

"It is my hope

that my dear wife will, on her death,

be buried there also."

Yes.

Yes.

- Unless... - Unless...

you can swear

for life, for death,

oh, fear to call it loving.