CHAPTER 41

The People’s Choice

As Eleanor disappeared inside the hospital, Cronkite picked up his report.

“Well, we have heard extraordinary words from an extraordinary woman. And we are getting our first precinct reports in now.”

The camera switched to the large board, where numbers had been flipped for New York, Maryland, and Connecticut.

“As I said earlier, all of these numbers are being fed into UNIVAC,” Cronkite had gotten up and walked over to the mock-up of the computer. A man sat behind the machine, as if he were manipulating the various dials and buttons.

“Soon,” Cronkite said, “reports will come out on this teletype machine,” and he pointed to what looked like an oversized typewriter. “Oh wait, here’s something coming in right now. We’ll report the findings after this commercial break.”

Mickelson came rushing out. “We just heard from Eckert. He, Mauchly, and Woodbury have a prediction from UNIVAC, and they all agree it’s got to be right. They say the early returns show a dead heat, way too close to call.”

“That can’t be right,” Cronkite said, clearly irritated. “Every poll we had showed Eisenhower with a huge lead. I knew this contraption was a gimmick.”

“Could be, but they sounded very certain.”

“They wrote the algorithm, what else would they say?” Cronkite replied. “I’m not comfortable reporting their prediction on the air. Not yet, anyway. Tell them to run their numbers again.”

Half an hour later, Woodbury called back with a new report that Cronkite used on the air.

“We have just been told that UNIVAC has a prediction. General Eisenhower is the heavy favorite to win by more than one hundred electoral votes.” As soon as he went to commercial break, Woodbury called in again, greatly agitated and talking quickly. “I made a mistake. I put in the wrong number for New York. The original prediction was right. This race is a dead heat, I’m absolutely certain.”

But Cronkite and Mickelson were still wary of the untested computer and decided against another announcement.

In Montgomery, Joan and Maureen paced the hospital’s halls with a small transistor radio. They had just heard Cronkite’s prediction that an Eisenhower landslide was coming, but refused to believe it. They decided not to interrupt Eleanor, who sat in Barbara Rose’s room, chatting with the girl’s parents and Vernon Johns.

Later, after Barbara Rose fell asleep, Eleanor sat in the hall and dictated her next “My Day” column to Maureen. Despite the campaign, she had continued to write it six days a week. Some newspapers had refused to carry the column, saying it gave her an unfair advantage in the campaign, but many others continued running it, arguing that her unvarnished reports of life as a candidate were a valuable civics lesson for their readers.

“Mrs. R., we didn’t want to bother you, but there was a report an hour ago or so.” Maureen looked down at her pad.

“Now, now, Maureen. They don’t have all the results yet, do they?”

“No, but they have a prediction that’s pretty bad.”

“Never mind predictions.” Eleanor waved her hand dismissively. “Come, let’s get this done.” She began dictating. “By the time you read this, the election will be decided. Whatever the outcome, I hope everyone will remember that they are blessed to live in a nation that is a democracy, and that while we are not perfect, we are striving toward our most cherished goals of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.” When Eleanor finished, she told Maureen to get some rest. “What about you?” Maureen asked.

“I’ll fall asleep in the chair in Barbara Rose’s room, don’t worry.” Eleanor wasn’t sure how much time had passed when she woke with a start to Joan’s urgent whisper.

“Mrs. R., wake up. Come out here. Listen to this!” Joan was holding the radio in front of her as she stood in the doorway trying not to wake Barbara Rose. Cronkite’s familiar baritone came through the small speaker.

Eleanor got up quickly and walked into the hall. Joan held the radio next to both of their ears.

“It is now 3:00 a.m., and I must tell you that hours ago the UNIVAC predicted that this would be a close election. We did not believe that that could be true, and so we decided to stick with our prediction that Eisenhower had a substantial lead. But this machine,” he patted the top of the phony UNIVAC, “has proven us wrong. The following states have gone for Dwight D. Eisenhower: Connecticut, Delaware, Florida, Indiana, Iowa, Kansas, Maine, Minnesota, Mississippi, Nebraska, New Hampshire, New Jersey, Ohio, Oklahoma, Vermont, Virginia, Senator McCarthy’s state of Wisconsin, and the state where Ike’s rival now sits, Alabama, giving Eisenhower a total of 173 electoral votes.” Cronkite paused and shuffled some papers, then the camera switched back to the large board with the list of states.

“As expected, Mrs. Roosevelt has won the electoral votes of six of the states known as part of the ‘solid South’: Arkansas, Georgia, Kentucky, Louisiana, North Carolina, and South Carolina. Thanks, no doubt, to the organizing efforts of her able campaign manager, Larry O’Brien, she has also won Massachusetts, where he is from, and her home state of New York. Surprisingly, however, and probably thanks to labor and the Negro vote, she has also won Michigan and Pennsylvania, and, no doubt thanks to New Deal programs including the Tennessee Valley Authority and rural assistance programs like Arthurdale, she has won Tennessee and West Virginia. Ladies and gentlemen, that gives Mrs. Roosevelt 194 electoral votes, putting her in the lead by twenty-five electoral votes.

“This is, of course, an absolutely astonishing development, perhaps explained by our exit polls, which showed an unexpectedly strong vote by women for Mrs. Roosevelt. Oh, wait just a moment.” Cronkite pressed his earpiece against his head for a moment, as the men on the scaffolding scrambled to change the number wheels.

“This just in, California and Colorado have gone for Ike, bringing his electoral total to 211, putting him now in the lead.”

“Well, our lead didn’t last long, did it?” Eleanor said, smiling. “I should go call Larry…”

“Wait, there’s more.” Joan was bouncing with excitement. “Maybe it’ll change back….”

“We now have all the western states. Idaho, Montana, North Dakota and South Dakota, New Mexico, Nevada, Oregon and Washington, Utah and Wyoming have all gone for Ike. And Texas, Illinois, and Missouri can be added to Mrs. Roosevelt’s totals. And the new totals are.” Cronkite paused for a moment. “Two hundred fifty-six electoral votes for Dwight D. Eisenhower and Mrs. Roosevelt has 258 electoral votes. Folks, this is as close a race as anyone could imagine. And it all comes down to tiny Rhode Island with its four electoral votes, Arizona, also with four, and the state of Maryland with nine electoral votes. Election officials in Rhode Island and Maryland report problems with voting machines, and they cannot tell us when they will release their final tally, so stay tuned.”

Eleanor looked stunned. Maureen and Joan were grinning, but neither could think of what to say. Finally, Joan trotted off, calling over her shoulder, “I’ll get Larry on the phone.”

Eleanor followed Joan to the phone booth that had become their main link to campaign headquarters.

“I take it you heard CBS’s report?” Larry said, his voice high with excitement.

“I did, but I can’t quite believe it,” Eleanor responded. “Rhode Island, Arizona, and Maryland?”

“Eleanor, Rhode Island’s been Democratic for more than a decade, and we have Pastore running for Senate there, and the whole state’s Italian.” Larry practically yelled into the phone. “I just talked to the state chairman in Maryland, E. Brooke Lee,” Larry went on, talking quickly. “They had record registration there and he thinks we’ll pull it out, maybe by fifty thousand votes. That would put us over the top without Rhode Island.”

At that moment, Eleanor could hear Cronkite’s voice in the background as Larry turned up the radio.

“Larry? Larry, are you there?” For a minute there was silence, then Larry came back on the line, sounding subdued. “They just declared Maryland for Ike. He’s at 265. We have to take Rhode Island and Arizona. That would get us to 266.”

“Well, what about Arizona?” Eleanor asked.

“Very hard to say.” Eleanor knew by Larry’s tone that he wasn’t hopeful. “I’ve talked to a lot of people and no one’s willing to predict. Republicans are definitely stronger there than when Truman carried it in ’48. This Barry Goldwater who’s running against McFarland for Senate has hammered the Dems hard there. McFarland’s pretty worried.”

“Why is their count so slow?” Eleanor asked.

“I’m not sure,” Larry replied. “I heard Goldwater’s workers made a lot of ballot challenges. Call me as soon as anything changes. And Sam wants to talk to you, but he’s catching some sleep. Call back by seven if there isn’t any news before that.”

When Eleanor returned to the phone booth, the sun was just coming up in Montgomery. Rayburn’s familiar drawl came over the line. “Eleanor, how are you holding up?”

“I’m fine, Sam. A little stunned.”

“I hope you have an acceptance speech ready,” Rayburn laughed. “That day at the convention when you said we could win? I have to be honest, I thought you’d come right off the spool. But there’s nothing like politics for surprises, is there? I sure wish Franklin could be here now.”

“Yes, Sam. I do as well.”

In her mind, Eleanor could hear Franklin’s familiar voice, his patrician intonation pitched at a tenor, saying, “What you have done, Eleanor, it is fine. It is very fine, indeed.” Tears stung her eyes. They had been the best of friends, the best of political partners. If he strayed in love, he never strayed from his faith in her. She wished she could take his hand now, hold it to her cheek, and tell him she understood that they had had a special love that no one else would ever understand.

She touched her hand to her collar where, that morning, she had carefully placed a gold fleur-de-lis pin inset with pearls. Franklin had given it to her on their honeymoon in 1905. They were in Florence, looking out at the quilt of terra-cotta rooftops from the top of Giotto’s Bell Tower at Il Duomo. It was near sunset, and the famous dome rose like a giant ginger-colored Faberge egg against the royal blue sky. Eleanor told Franklin she could imagine it encrusted with jewels. She was wearing the white, broad-brimmed, lace-covered hat she had just bought in Paris. Franklin tipped up the front of it and brought his lips to hers in a lingering, tender kiss. Then he asked, “Will this jewel do?” and pulled the little box with the pin out of his pocket and handed it to her. At that instant, she felt absolutely safe and loved.

How had she gone from that moment to this one? From the girl who longed only for love and security to the woman who was waiting to hear if she would be elected president?

“I truly think, Sam, that we shape our lives and we shape ourselves.”

“I do, too, Eleanor. And I’ve always admired that about you—the way you take personal responsibility. Now we may have more responsibility than we bargained for.” He gave a short laugh, then said urgently, “Hold on, just hold on, Eleanor.”

She could barely hear Cronkite in the background over the telephone line. As she tried to make out his words, she saw Maureen running down the hall, her heels clacking loudly on the checked tiles of the floor.

“We are waiting…go to…and we have just had…” Cronkite’s voice faded in and out as Eleanor strained to hear. As Maureen got closer, Eleanor could see that tears were streaming down her face. Joan ran behind her, her flimsy stiletto heels slowing her down. In frustration, she stopped long enough to tear them off and fling them against the wall.

Eleanor let the phone drop and shoved open the door of the phone booth, hurrying into the hall. Maureen’s face looked so contorted and strained, Eleanor was sure something terrible had happened—perhaps to Tommy.

“Mrs. R.” Maureen threw her arms around Eleanor’s waist and pressed her head against her chest like a child, too overcome to speak. Eleanor could feel her heart begin to race.

“Maureen, is it Tommy?”

Before Maureen could answer, Joan ran up panting, desperately trying to gasp out her words.

“Rhode Island and Arizona.” Joan took a gulp of air. Then she began yelling and crying at the same time. “You’ve won! You’ve won, Mrs. Roosevelt! You’ve won by one vote. One electoral vote. Oh, my God. Oh, my God.” She looked up into Eleanor’s face, her voice awestruck. “They’ve elected you president of the United States.”