National Affairs: Man of the Year, 1932

(See front cover)

Scanning the dreary horizon of 1932 as it recedes into history, upon whom would the discerning eye of an alert U. S. citizen fix as Man of the Year?

Beyond his own shores he would find no new name that had skyrocketed into world consciousness during the twelvemonth. Mahatma Gandhi, 1930’s Man of the Year, is still a prisoner of Britain in the Poona jail and his Indian followers are quiescent if not quiet. Pierre Laval, 1931’s Man of the Year, was swept out of the premiership of France last February, is today only a Senator without portfolio. The May elections put Edouard Herriot into power for six months but fortnight ago he and his Ministry went crashing out on the issue of paying the U. S. War Debt.

The year showed Neville Chamberlain. Chancellor of the Exchequer, to be Britain’s strong man but he was not yet on top; Laborite Ramsay MacDonald continues to head the National (Conservative coalition) ministry. Prime Minister Mac-Donald, more than any other official participant, was given credit for the outcome of the Lausanne Conference in July but there have been other conferences, will doubtless be many more.

In 1931 Adolf Hitler was Germany’s rising star. In 1932 he and his Nazis slipped back to the tune of 2,000,000 lost votes. His thunder was largely stolen by

General Kurt von Schleicher, the new Chancellor to whom many a German looks as Man of Next Year.

Russia and Italy, one with its Stalin, the other with its Mussolini, rocked along through the year unchanged and unchanging under dictatorship.

Turning back to his own country, the discerning citizen of the U. S. would find more promising material. Charles Augustus Lindbergh, 1927 Man of the Year, had become the Victim of the Year in 1932. For the loss of his son & namesake the nation had given him all its sympathy but to him went no plaudits for any new achievement. When in 1928 Walter P. Chrysler became Man of the Year his Manhattan office building was starting to rise as the world’s tallest, his Chrysler Motors organized to vie with General Motors. Now the Chrysler Building is overtopped by the Empire State and the automobile industry is pinioned on the rock of hard times. The prestige of 192g’s Man of the Year, Owen D. Young, world financier, friend to Samuel Insull, is still great but even he has produced no sovereign simple for prostrate business.

Banker of the Year was certainly Winthrop Williams Aldrich who last week seemed about to succeed Albert Henry Wiggin as head of great Chase National (see p. 27) but his big achievements lay ahead of him. Scanning the realm of business the well-informed citizen would probably conclude that the biggest and boldest strides against the economic tide were those of Errett Lobban Cord who turned from highways to skyways in his restless effort to expand. The year proved that there was no such thing as a Depression-proof industry. Yet John Hartford’s Great Atlantic & Pacific food stores, by holding the line, came closest to an exception.

Most scientific citizens would award the title of Man of the Year to General Electric’s Irving Langmuir who won this year’s Nobel Prize for his surface chemistry.

Yet Dr. Langmuir’s work which earned the award was not confined to 1932. And ready to dispute such a title would be the friends of Dr. Arthur Holly Compton. 1927 Nobel Prize winner, who traveled 50,000 mi. in 1932 researching the cosmic ray.

To the attention of ordinary citizens were brought during the year the findings of the Committee on the Costs of Medical Care rather than eminent accomplishments by individual physicians or surgeons.

Sportsman of the Year was certainly Golfer Gene Sarazen who by winning both the British and U. S. open championships came as close as any professional can to Robert Tyre Jones Jr.’s record in 1930. Yet Sarazen flubbed the Professional Championship, did not even qualify. Josef Paul Cuckoschay (Jack Sharkey) of Boston retrieved the world’s heavyweight boxing championship for the U. S. from Germany’s Maximilian Adolf Otto Siegfried Schmeling in a bout that satisfied few patrons. All-around athlete of 1932 was Mildred (“Babe”) Didrikson of Dallas who scored more individual points in the Olympics than any other participant. Last week Miss Didrikson turned professional (see p. 19).

Play of the Year was Of Thee I Sing, but George S. Kaufman, its author (with Morrie Ryskind), rarely works alone.

Into the cinema firmament swam no new star to replace Garbo and Dietrich. Seasoned performers carried on competently rather than brilliantly.

More people went to hear Lily Pons sing than heard any other 1932 soprano. But she was new, young, pretty.

In the book world, Allan Nevins’ Grover Cleveland took high rank among Presidential biographies and Historian James

Truslow Adams (March of Democracy) held his grip on the popular mind. But the year produced no Main Street, no Bridge of San Luis Rey.

The Man-of-the-Year-hunter could hardly fail to spot John Davison Rockefeller Jr. as Builder of the Year with Rockefeller Center (see p. 29).

Fad of the year: Technocracy, as preached by Howard Scott (TIME, Dec. 26).

The discerning citizen would not be satisfied with any of these specialists as Man of the Year. Looking to Washington he would see old familiar figures passing below the political horizon—figures for whom 1932 meant defeat and exile. After four years of relentless effort unequaled by any man in the White House, Herbert Hoover remained a psychological product of 1928. Millions of citizens hoped that by some last-minute miracle he would turn out to be Man of the Year but more millions felt—and voted—otherwise.

Alfred Emanuel Smith had added nothing to his public stature by his display of bad temper following his defeat for the Democratic Presidential nomination. Throughout the year, along with Calvin Coolidge, he remained a distinguished private citizen.

No new leader came out of the Senate and the old ones were either “lame ducks” or disgruntled individualists with a narrowing conception of public service. Borah stock was far below par.

In the House the country for a few weeks thought it had a hero in Georgia’s Crisp, sales tax advocate. But the riotous defeat of that legislation and the subsequent defeat of its sponsor for the Senate fogged the Crisp name.*

Flashes in the Man-of-the-Year pan: Walter Waters, commander-in-chief of the Bonus Expeditionary Force and Milo

Reno, leader of the Iowa farm strike.

Two months ago, in a lively referendum from ocean to ocean, the people of the U. S. chose their own Man of the Year, and clearly the election of Franklin Delano Roosevelt to the Presidency was without equal elsewhere in the world as an individual accomplishment. To millions & millions of “forgotten men” he was a big-jawed, happy Messiah whose “new deal” would somehow put money into everybody’s-pocket. To himself, victory was the sweet reward of long years of careful planning, unremitting work.

The story of Governor Roosevelt’s rise to be Man of the Year and 32nd President of the U. S. is fresh in mind. Future historians describing it as a feat of political mountain-climbing will not fail to mention:

¶ How Franklin Roosevelt was the deadest of dead Democrats when defeated for the vice-Presidency in 1920. ¶How the following year an acute attack of poliomyelitis (infantile paralysis) left his muscles atrophied from the waist down. ¶How he, a helpless cripple, was lifted to the rostrum of the Democratic convention at Masison square Garden to nominate Alfred Emanuel Smith for the Presidency in 1924. ¶ How he discovered the mineralized waters of Warm springs, Ga. as a cure for his infirmity in 1924.¶How a cane had replaced crutches when he again nominated Al Smith at Houston in 1928.¶How he was first hailed as “our next President” by friendly Georgians at Warm Springs following his 1928 State election. ¶How he was re-elected Governor by the biggest majority on record in 1930. ¶ How he made James Aloysius Farley his pre-convention manager and sent him out scouting for Presidential delegates in 1931.

¶, How he pretended he was not a White House candidate in 1931. ¶How he was examined by eminent physicians in 1931 and publicly pronounced “sound in all respects.” ¶How, last January, he first announced his candidacy in time for the North Dakota primary.

¶ How he, already an Elk, Odd Fellow, 32nd degree Mason and joiner of a score more clubs and societies, joined the Improved Order of Red Men and the Tall Cedars of Lebanon in 1930, the American Philatelic Society and the Academic Diplomatique Internationale in 1931, etc. etc., the Maccabees last week. ¶ How, after winning the nomination last July on the fourth ballot, he dramatically flew to Chicago to address the convention. ¶ How he campaigned 12,000 mi. during September and October. ¶ How he was elected Nov. 8 by 22,813,786 votes to Hoover’s 15,759,266.

Man of the Year Roosevelt’s climb to the Presidency represented a physical triumph of the first order. For a decade he had fought a dogged fight to regain control over his paralyzed legs. Today the President-elect can walk in his braces, without crutch, stick or assisting arm, about 15 steps. Declares his wife: “If the paralysis couldn’t kill him, I guess the Presidency won’t.” The Man of the Year’s attitude toward his affliction is one of gallant unconcern. After his November election he went to Warm Springs where he addressed others there taking the cure: “We’ve shown that we people here have determined to get over the small physical handicaps which after all don’t amount to a hill of beans.”

Governor Roosevelt’s political comeback after 1920 involved efforts even greater, because their object was less tangible, than his conquest of his lame legs. Years ago Louis McHenry Howe, his friend and adviser, had inoculated him with the White House virus. His election and re-election as Governor reawakened the Presidential fever, which burned with increasing intensity as the months at Albany wore successfully on and Herbert Hoover’s prestige sank at Washington. Forgotten now is the fact that two years ago some of Franklin Roosevelt’s oldest friends were deploring the evident, consuming degree of ambition as almost indecent. Such ambition is the mainspring of most political candidacies. Certainly no man without it could have become the third Democratic President since the Civil War. Translated from ambition to realization, the “indecent” passion becomes heroic.

After his 1930 re-election Governor Roosevelt got out and humped himself for the national nomination. Typical were his activities during June 1931: 1) attendance at the Governors’ Conference at French Lick, Ind. where he worked into a non-partisan speech a full-length campaign platform which stole the headlines; 2) a stop-over in Ohio, “Mother of Presidents,” to see Governor White, James Middleton Cox and the local Democratic bosses; 3) a trip to Manchester, Mass, to call on Col. Edward Mandell House whose support he enlisted. In July he appeared at the Charlottesville (Va.) Institute of Public Affairs, held court. In August he dramatized his disagreement with President Hoover on St. Lawrence waterpower. In February 1932 he jettisoned the League of Nations as a party encumbrance. In April he was not above talking partisan politics over the Lucky Strike radio hour.

Yet while his ambition was burning hottest, he kept his head cool and clear enough to make no rash mistakes. He listened carefully to the astute Colonels Howe & House. He trusted hustling Jim Farley to line up the important West and Midwest. He appealed to and for the Forgotten Man without going so far off the deep end of demagoguery that he could not regain his balance among potent conservatives.

Most Men of the Year complete their memorable achievement between Jan. 1 and Dec. 31. The Chrysler Building stands, not only completed but occupied. The Young Plan, despite subsequent events, remains world history. But Colonel Lindbergh after his flight was required to serve the nation year after year as its No. 1 Hero—a role which set in motion a train of circumstances ending in tragedy the windy night of March 1 at Hopewell, N. J. and, as Lindbergh had, Man of the Year Roosevelt has his greater job ahead of him. Will he make good in the White House? The country is only too ready to hope so. Yet in spite of his campaign utterances and the activities of his “brain trust,” by last week President-elect Roosevelt had apparently only begun to arrive at his answers for the problems of 1933. Some of the problems and their present status:

Cabinet. Yet to be selected were the ten men who can make or break an administration. The President-elect planned to do his choosing at Warm Springs during January.

War Debts. Beyond flat refusal to follow the Hoover commission method (see p. 7) his specific remedies for this international complexity remain unknown.

Farm Relief. Yet to be worked out in detail are Domestic Allotment and Mortgage Relief.

Economy. Promised was a billion-dollar cut. Will a member of three American Legion posts go hammer-&-tongs after the veterans?

Tariff. Many a manufacturer wishes he knew the Roosevelt mind on rate cuts.

Taxation. The 32nd President has yet to declare himself on the Sales Tax or any other form of new taxation to balance the Budget.* Last week he was considering a revolutionary proposal to tax corporate surpluses, now estimated at $4,000,000,000. Such a tax, It was argued, would squeeze much water out of inflated capital structures, discourage corporate hoarding.

Prohibition. The intricacies of keeping the Repeal pledge have yet to be developed.

A year from now the U. S. electorate will have a much more real idea of the worth of its 1932 Man of the Year.

Last week Mr. Crisp resigned from the Tariff Commission, to which President Hoover had appointed him as a “lame duck.” Jan. 1 he becomes lobbyist for Savannah Sugar Corp.

Last week House Ways & Means Chairman Collier announced: “In order to balance the budget at this session I’ll support the sales tax as a last resort. I want the new administration to have a clear sheet March 4.”