1934
Franklin D. Roosevelt
FROM THE TIME ARCHIVE
Jan. 7, 1935
In Chapter 1934 of the great visitors book which men call History many a
potent human being scrawled his name the twelvemonth past. But no man, however
long his arm, could write his name so big as the name written by the longer arm
of mankind. Neither micrometer nor yardstick was necessary to determine that
the name of Franklin Delano Roosevelt was written bigger, blacker, bolder than
all the rest.
While other men in other lands were making 1934 history, the voters of the
U.S. took pencil & paper on Nov. 6 and wrote their own ticket for Man of
the Year. It was not a new ticket because they had picked Franklin Roosevelt as
their Man of 1932 by electing him to the Presidency, but it was a different
one. Two years ago a hundred million people looked to this cheerful, charming
gentleman to do something in the greatest industrial crisis on record. This
year they used their ballots again, not as a desperate hope but as a grateful
reward for services rendered. President Roosevelt might not have done all the
things he promised to do and all the things he did do might not be for the
country's good in the long run--but what he did do seemed so much better than
the deeds of any other single citizen in the land that only the narrowest
partisan could cavil at his popular selection as The Man of 1934.
In last November's election there was but one national issue—the New
Deal. The voters' verdict was not a mere stamp of approval. It was a paean of
acclamation. With unqualified popular enthusiasm, New Dealers were swept head
over heels into office. For the first time since the Civil War a President in
office had his mandate from the people not only renewed but enormously enlarged
in an off-year election. The landslide of 1932 was almost submerged and
forgotten in the landslide of 1934. What made the name of Franklin Roosevelt so
big, so black, so bold, was the fact that the wealthiest single nation of the
modern world had committed itself as never before to one man in a do-or- die
attempt to pull itself out of a deep, dark economic hole.
Lesser Lights. In the blinding light cast by a Man of the Year chosen by
acclamation, other lights may seem faint by comparison, but calculated by their
own candlepower, they are not to be ignored.
Dictator of the Year was Adolf Hitler who, by force, entrenched himself in
Germany as surely as Franklin Roosevelt did in the U.S.
Athlete of the Year was Jerome Herman ("Dizzy") Dean of the St. Louis
Cardinals, whose pitching was responsible more than any other single factor for
bringing his team the National League pennant and a World's championship.
Doctor of the Year was Allan Roy Dafoe, whose skill and commonsense as a
family physician the Dionne quintuplets could last week thank for the fact that
they were seven months old and weighed an aggregate of 60 lbs.
Also-Ran of the Year was California's Upton Sinclair who for a time
threatened to steal the spotlight of U.S. politics from Franklin Roosevelt and
ended by being a thorn in the great Roosevelt's political side.
Musician of the Year was Arturo Toscanini. In three of the world's great
musical capitals—Manhattan, Paris and Salzburg—Conductor Toscanini was the
sensation of the season, establishing beyond all dispute his title as music's
greatest box-office attraction.
Preacher of the Year was Father Charles Edward Coughlin who swayed more
human opinions than any clergyman, became one of the few U.S. priests in modern
times to be a power in politics and economics.
Actress of the Year was Katharine Cornell who, while the memories of Julia
Marlowe and Jane Cowl were still green, won the palm of praise for her Juliet.
But Dictator, Athlete, Doctor, Also-Ran, Musician, Preacher, Actress,
either singly or together, could not outweigh in the scales of history the
influence and importance of Man of the Year Roosevelt.
The Record. In the eyes of oldtime politicians Franklin Roosevelt has
bewitched the U.S. people with his smile, the toss of his head, the hearty
frankness of his manner. These personal attributes apparently counted for more
with the average citizen than did the concrete record of the President's
achievements during 1934. By last week that record was still an unfinished
story, with the outcome of many of his executive undertakings still dangling
between success and failure. He had kept busy; he had put on a good show; he
had exuded cheer and optimism; but he had decisively won few major battles in
the past twelve months.
Into the lap of the U.S. the Man of the Year dumped a budget calling for a
two-year expenditure of nearly $17,000,000,000, a two-year deficit of
$9,000,000,000. By the end of the year the Public Debt had been increased from
$23,800,000,000 to $28,300,000,000. And the Treasury actually found it easier
to float new loans than it had a year earlier. But after making emergency
expenditures of $4,500,000,000 the pump of industrial recovery was not yet
primed and the prospect of a balanced budget was still very remote.
Money. The Man of the Year lopped 41 cents off the gold value of the
dollar, called in all gold, nationalized all silver bullion in the U.S. and set
the Treasury to buying 1,300,000,000 oz. of silver. But little if any general
price-rise followed, and the President admitted to newshawks that his gold
policy was a disappointment.
Farmers. With the help of AAA, farm prices were boosted back 45% of the
way from their Depression bottom to 1929 highs. Farm income was upped to
$6,000,000,000, a round billion above 1933, exclusive of $500,000,000 paid by
AAA for restricting production. But the biggest scarcity factor in boosting
farm prices was the Drought, an act of God.
Employment. The Man of the Year spent $1,400,000,000 to relieve the
unemployed, not counting $814,000,000 for CWA (For the four and one-half months
that CWA was in operation. Part of it was spend in the closing weeks of
1933.)—his first work relief project, wound up because it was too expensive.
But the American Federation of Labor last week reported that the unemployed for
December totaled 11,459,000 which was 400,000 more than a year earlier.
Labor. The Man of the Year scrapped one Labor Board and founded another to
enforce industrial-labor peace through collective bargaining. He labored
diligently to prevent automobile, steel and cotton textile strikes, to settle
bloody labor altercations in San Francisco, Minneapolis, Toledo. But strikes
cost the loss of 20,888,000 man-days of work in the first nine months of 1934
compared to 9,456,000 man-days loss in the same period of 1933.
International. Too busy at home to give much attention to foreign policy
the Man of the Year nonetheless concluded a new treaty with Cuba which wiped
out the Platt Amendment, put U.S. relations with that country on a new basis,
improved relations with all Latin-America. From Congress he got power to make
reciprocal tariff agreements to promote foreign trade. But up to last week only
one such agreement (with Cuba) had been signed. In November U.S. exports were
worth $195,000,000 (devalued dollars), up $11,000,000 from a year earlier,
although, calculated in old gold dollars, U.S. foreign trade was at ebb,
touching its Depression low in July.
Industry. The Man of the Year launched a 1934 drive in behalf of half-dead
heavy industry by setting up the National Housing Administration which by
year-end had induced householders to spend $100,000,000 on home renovation. But
the Federal Reserve's latest index of industrial production stood at 74%,
almost the exact level of a year earlier, while NRA, without last year's Man of
the Year Hugh S. Johnson, broke like a wave on the beach; its price-fixing
efforts abandoned; its collective bargaining feature challenged in the courts;
its funeral oration read by Alfred P. Sloan of General Motors: "Today the magic
possibilities of industrial regimentation and the so-called planned economy no
longer cast the spell of yesterday—that spell is broken. That is the most
important thing.... It is real progress."
Travels & Talks. The Man of the Year went yachting off Florida;
attended the Harvard-Yale crew races at New London; cruised for a month aboard
the U.S.S. Houston from Annapolis to Puerto Rico and the Virgin Islands,
through the Panama Canal to Hawaii and back to Portland, Ore.; traveled across
the continent with the cheers of multitudes in his ears and the news of
drought-slaking rains in his wake; relaxed as the country squire at Hyde Park;
toured the Tennessee Valley; sunned himself in the pool at Warm Springs. And
during 1934, he spoke 23 times over the radio, more than any previous President
in any previous year. But in the same time his wife managed to make five more
broadcasts than her husband.
Such were Franklin Roosevelt's most notable doings and concerns of 1934.
They brought him in touch with as many kinds of men as there are in the old
jingle:
Richman Vincent Astor provided the yacht which carried the Man of the Year
to sea, fishing for bonefish and barracuda off the Bahama Keys while Congress
was overriding his veto of veterans' pension increases.
Poorman Fred C. Perkins, maker of automobile batteries in a factory shed
at York, Pa. was fined $1,500 because he could not afford to pay 40 cents an
hour wages commanded by the New Deal's NRA.
Beggarman Elmer Thomas, putting aside his Senatorial cutaway for tattered
overalls, asked again & again for alms, in the form of a few billions of
greenbacks.
Thief John Dillinger, on whose grave near Indianapolis last week appeared
a spray of greens inscribed "Merry Christmas, Old Pal," was the No. 1 catch of
a New Deal's crime drive which in one year landed every major public enemy save
one in jail or grave, solved seven out of eleven kidnappings, convicted three
kidnappers.
Doctor Rexford Guy Tugwell proved that his capacity for winning approval
for the New Deal was in inverse ratio to his capacity for getting public
attention. He was promoted to Under Secretary of Agriculture and then muzzled.
Lawyer Donald Randall Richberg, like a new star in the Washington heavens,
reached his zenith directly over the White House, only to start to fade.
Merchant Irenee Du Pont, seller of munitions, was beset by the hornets of
a Senate investigation which moved the Man of the Year to take steps to take
the profit out of war.
Chief James Aloysius Farley, generalissimo of politics and potent Elk,
rushed once more into the fray and won for the Man of the Year the battle of
Nov. 6.
The jingle might go on indefinitely, with Senator David Reed whose scalp
was the biggest snagged by Franklin Roosevelt in the election, with Schoolman
William A. Wirt who found a Red conspiracy in the Brain Trust; with Banker
Jackson Eli Reynolds who made peace between financiers and the White House;
with Airman Charles Augustus Lindbergh who protested against airmail
cancellations; with others & others.
Significance. But these persons and these events, of themselves, could not
nominate a Man of the Year. One prime statistic takes rank above those listed.
On Nov. 6, 17,300,000 Democratic votes were cast against 13,370,000 Republican
votes. That result, reckoned by the standards of off-year elections and the
huge Democratic majority returned in Congress, was every inch a landslide. The
disparity between cause and effect represents Roosevelt Magic, the
craftsmanship of a man who is master of the art of politics.
The persuasive quality of his smile is not reducible to Magic, but the
persuasive quality of his words is well exemplified in his speeches. When he
spoke last spring at Gettysburg he struck his keynote of popularity: "We are
all brothers now in a new understanding." He struck it in a sterner mood when
reproving the old order at Green Bay: "My friends, the people of the United
States will not restore that ancient order!" He struck it sentimentally in his
radio speech last September: "My friends, I still believe in ideals." He struck
it in Tupelo where he defended his power program: "This is not
regimentation—it is community rugged individualism." And with more inspiration
at Harrodsburg: "We pioneers of 1934... We, too, are hewing out a
commonwealth."
Thus to mankind who always love a doer of great deeds, Franklin Roosevelt
showed himself in the figure of a Hercules striving to perform immense but
modern labors, of a hero who in the U.S. tradition does all his labors on a
neighborly basis. He himself expressed as nearly as it is likely to be
expressed, the result of this attitude, the reason for the vote of Nov. 6 when
he declared:
"The people of this nation understand what we are trying to do..."
COVERS GALLERY: Click here to see the cover image from 1934
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