National Affairs: Exquisite Sensation

When he returned to the White House from his Rapidan camp early last week, President Hoover found his desk stacked with messages from all the world applauding his debt holiday plan. He glanced at a few—”stroke of genius,” “fine constructive step,” “thousands will thank God for you.” Then, sweeping the rest aside, he plunged into six days of hard exciting work—the kind which makes a man glad to be President. For the first time he felt the exquisite sensation of a united nation behind him on a major issue. He became, almost overnight, a changed man, a nerveless machine driving at top speed, a kinetic force on world psychology.

Four days after the Hoover plan had gone forth, Secretary of State Stimson marched happily into the President’s office to announce that Britain and Italy had unconditionally accepted his terms. Scot Ramsay MacDonald had made a great oration in Parliament [cheers] which had been echoed loudly by other orations from His Majesty’s Opposition [cheers]. More notably, His Majesty’s Britannic Government had spread the Hoover generosity around the globe by offering to His Majesty’s Indian and the Dominion Governments the same concessions which His Majesty’s Britannic Government received [cheers]. Lazy, bankrupt Australia snatched the crumb. Proud, His Majesty’s Government in the Union of South Africa said: “We have informed His Majesty’s Government in the United Kingdom that South Africa will not take advantage of the offer of the Mother Country to forego payments which we owe on our War debt.” [Loud cheers.] Benito Mussolini, with characteristic dynamics, had promptly put his Cabinet busily to work figuring out exactly what was to be done. President Hoover was not surprised. He knew they gave up in German reparations and other debt receipts only a little more than they would be relieved of paying the U. S. on their debts.

Three hours later, Poet-Ambassador Claudel delivered the French reply at the State Department, and went scuttling out muttering: “I have nothing to say, nothing to say, nothing to say.” The U. S. Ambassador in Paris had telephoned to prepare Secretary Stimson for the shock. But after he had scanned the English text, he grew alarmed, almost ran to the White House to confer with the President. They hastily summoned Ogden L. Mills, the financial brains of the Treasury, and for three and a half hours these three gentlemen solemnly pondered France’s reply. Eugene Meyer Jr., astute, rich Governor of the Federal Reserve Board, called at the White House to discuss plans for a short term German loan, but the President was too preoccupied to see him.

It was well after 7 o’clock when Secretary Stimson emerged, the muscles of his nose tightened by worry. Newsmen trailed him out of the lobby and down the steps to the street between the White House and the State Department. No, no, no, nothing to say. He twirled his cane nervously. “Are you still optimistic?” asked a pert newshawk. The Secretary stopped, turned, answered: “Yes, I am. If anything happens to the President’s plan, it would be a crime.” Then he crossed the street, neatly dodging a delivery truck.

The French note was a sharp disappointment to President Hoover. Stripped of its diplomatic verbiage, its gist was: France will accept an all-around moratorium but the integrity of the Young Plan must be maintained and therefore Germany must continue to pay the 42% of her reparations which the Young Plan says cannot be postponed. But France is generous. She will allow Germany to deposit these payments in the Bank of International Settlements where they will serve as a special credit for Germany and other Central European powers (i. e. Poland, Rumania, Jugoslavia, France’s allies) which are also in economic distress. Presumably at the end of the moratorium Germany would make a double payment in one year.

President Hoover found this counterproposal quite unacceptable. His primary purpose was to relieve Germany of all payments for a year and here France was insisting on extracting $166,000,000 from her. The President might have consented to the French proposal if it were merely a B. I. S. bookkeeping arrangement whereby Germany could withdraw its $166,000,000 as soon as paid, or if France wanted only small payments to cover current contracts for devastation repairs. But France, according to the President’s figures, would so parcel out the German deposits that Germany would get back as credit a scant $20,000,000.

Another feature of the French reply which the President considered out of the question was Germany’s double payment the year after the moratorium. No relief at all would be afforded by such a scheme. Secretary Stimson announced: “The French note shows a gratifying cordiality. . . . The question of the method by which this postponement is to be accomplished and the ultimate payment of the postponed amounts are matters requiring negotiation and settlement. . . .”

Thus the issue passed into the realm of diplomatic negotiation. Quickly, therefore, diplomacy polished its silk topper, took out its best walking stick and kept its chauffeur at the ambassadorial gates. U. S. diplomats, even in tiniest countries, bowed and talked and cabled the State Department. Most of their reports were, of course, jubilant. Austria who lost the War called it “the first step toward clearing away the War mess.” At Vatican City it was likened to “Lindbergh coming through the foggy night.” At Warsaw Poles talked of “help for political ills” as well. Greece was ready to accept the Hoover terms while old Prague wanted to know whether a moratorium would also apply to their debt to U. S. for outfitting the Czech Legion during the War. Phleg-matic Holland skeptically shrugged her shoulders as might have been expected. And while a Brussels newspaper declared: “President Hoover, the admirable director of Belgian relief, remains faithful to his ideal,” the cagey Belgian Government quaintly protested diplomacy-by-telephone (“an American innovation”) and waited to see what France would do.

The focal point of all last week’s top-hatted diplomatic activity was in Paris. There the nervous elbows of Ambassador Edge, smart advertising man who became U. S. Senator from New Jersey and married Maine’s prettiest girl, fanned up and down more excitedly than ever. He had no more than delivered the Hoover proposal at the Quai d’Orsay than all France began to pout because of the notion that the U. S. President had neglected to conduct any preliminary discussions with her. Time and again, Ambassador Edge’s motor hummed through the Place de l’Alma, across the Seine at Pont Alexander III and back to the Foreign Office, where he assured Premier Pierre Laval over and over that the U. S. had not discussed its plan with any other country. M. Laval nodded his head politely, incredulously What about that letter from Old Paul von Hindenburg? What about Mellon being all this time in England?

After the French note had been delivered to Washington, President Hoover decided U. S. Diplomacy at Paris needed some added prestige. Therefore he flashed an order to his cautious and charming old Secretary of the Treasury. When Secretary Mellon had crossed the channel and arrived at the Gare du Nord French officials and friends, including M. Robert Lacour-Gayet, crowded to meet him. “Are you glad to be in Paris?” asked M. Lacour-Gayet. Replied Secretary Mellon: “M. Lacour-Gayet, we are here.”

Secretary Mellon sent his luggage to the Ritz and went to the Embassy to dine. There he and Ambassador Edge reviewed the French position on the Hoover plan. Next day after a formal luncheon he sat long and solemnly with Premier Laval. Later he matched figures and wits with Finance Minister Flandin. Then he went back to the Embassy and asked the tele-phone operator to get him the President of the U. S. His gentle voice promised Mr. Hoover a report, after further negotiations, on which the U. S. could base its reply to France.

In Washington, Andrew Mellon’s senior in rank, Henry Lewis Stimson, was so busy with despatches that he missed his train to New York; flew; sailed, as scheduled, for Italy aboard the S.S. Conte Grande. His trip was originally intended to be a vacation but President Hoover after re-ceiving the French reply, foresaw where his Secretary of State could be more useful abroad than in his high-ceiled Washington office.* On the Conte Grande a cabin near his B deck suite had been especially fitted out as an office for the Secretary of State who took with him Captain Eugene A. Regnier, his military aide, Allen T. Klots. his special assistant, and George A.

Morlock, a State Department code expert to handle the Stimson messages to the White House.

About Washington the moratorium idea spread so easily and rapidly that over-zealous newsmen were soon depicting

President Hoover as about to move to secure some sort of debt relief for South America. So persistent became these yarns, that President Hoover had to declare publicly: “There is absolutely no foundation for the stories. . . . These remain, as do all private debts, solely a relationship between debtors and creditors.” A young Negro couple called at the White House to ask the President to marry them “if he wasn’t busy.” Some potent Senators and Representatives with whom he had failed to consult in his first canvass of Congressional opinion fortnight ago were miffed at his apparent neglect. To soothe their pride and keep them friendly he despatched personal messages to each and every member of the 72nd Congress with this request: “If you are favorable to the proposal, it would undoubtedly aid in the negotiations now in progress if you could inform me thereof.” The White House was deluged with responses, practically all favorable. Notable exception: Hiram Johnson of California, where Hearstpapers are strong.

Because Congress does not meet until Dec. 7 and debt suspension must be voted by Dec. 15, the next international pay day, President Hoover was pressed to relax his opposition to a special session. Utah’s Senator Reed Smoot estimated it would take six weeks to legislate on this matter. Mississippi’s Democratic Senator Pat Harrison, so actively in favor of the Hoover plan that he called for a political armistice during its consideration, told the President the House would be tied up for weeks selecting a Speaker, advised him to call Congress into special session in late autumn. The Hoover head continued to shake in disapproval.

The final stamp of nonpartisanship was placed on the Hoover proposal by Jouett Shouse, chairman of the Democratic National Executive Committee and one of the President’s severest political critics. Said he: “It is gratifying to be able to endorse and commend . . . the proclamation of the President. . . . His position shows statesmanship, courage and decision. . . . But I cannot pledge in advance the votes of Democratic Senators and Representatives. . . .”

Republicans, however, were not quite so scrupulous about keeping the Hoover plan out of politics. Exclaimed Senator Smoot: “A splendid thing for the good of the party—and for the good of the country!” Declared James Francis Burke, G. 0. P. counsel: “From now on the fortunes of the Republican party are certain to im-prove.”

The only objection leveled against the Hoover plan was that among its beneficiaries would be the top-hatted gentlemen who earn their daily bread in the fields of international finance. Quick to take this line of attack were the Hearstpapers whose big-nosed publisher, predicting that Herbert Hoover could be elected President of any country but the U. S., declared “here and now for Calvin Coolidge for the next President of the U. S.” Led as always by the great internationally-minded House of Morgan, the sagest bankers and economists of the land had long and quietly been pressing just some such scheme upon the White House only to be turned off with the excuse that the country would not stand for it. That President Hoover’s plan received such popular approval perhaps surprised no one more than himself. As it was, not even the Democrats were inclined to molest the international bankers in the enjoyment of their victory or to make trouble for the President on this obvious score. Declared Senator Harrison, usually a Hoover-twit-ter of the first order: “To those who say that the plan is in the interest of international bankers and the holders of German securities, I answer back and say, yes, it may help them. But why should we grudge that? Are they not a part of our American citizenship?”

With the blessing of Wall Street and all other markets upon him, President Hoover motored to his Rapidan camp to relax. Mrs. Hoover had preceded him there. Their guests included George Woodward Wickersham, Bruce Barton, Newbold Noyes (Washington editor), Edgar Rickard (old business friend). Behind him the President left a world still echoing with his praise. Happiest of cities was Berlin. Its 6 ft. 6 in. Ober-burgermeister, Heinrich (“Uncle Sam”) Sahm, went before the International Convention of Building Trades fervently to declare: “I propose President Hoover for the Nobel Peace Prize. He is a candidate without competition. His action means more for real peace than anything done in the last decade.” The great Berlin Tage-blatt observed sagely: “The philosopher Wilson seized us by the nape of the neck; the Engineer Hoover captures our hearts.”

*Determined to use all his official personnel to push his plan through quickly, the President had at first suggested that Statesman Stimson broadcast a radio explanation of the moratorium to the country. Statesman Stimson hustled back to his own office, called in aides with facts and figures, wrote out a speech while radio time was secured over two big broadcasting chains Next day, though, President Hoover read in the public prints that France’s contrariness was increasing, decided that a Stimson speech might complicate future negotiations. When the Secretary returned with a draft of his address for White House approval, the President ordered him to pocket it, cancel the broadcast. Sheepishly Statesman Stimson told newsmen that he had decided to “sleep on it.” Into the wastebasket went bales of the never-to-be-delivered Stimson speech just off the State Department mimeograph.