Reaction

It was cold and partly cloudy in Washington last week when President Roosevelt returned from Warm Springs. Rested after his quietest week since the war began, he stepped off the train to be greeted by a sober-visaged Secretary of State Cordell Hull, flanked by Under Secretary of State Sumner Welles, Assistant Secretary of War Louis Johnson. The President's quietest week was over, ended by bombs falling on Helsinki by Russia's invasion of Finland.

Cold and clear was the U. S. reaction to Russia's move. At the White House the President conferred with Statesmen Hull and Welles, spent 45 minutes with Finnish Minister Hjalmar Procope. All day reports of Russian bombings of Helsinki came to the State Department from the U.S. Minister to Finland. At 6 p.m. Mr. Hull got word that in a raid of 15 planes, bombs had fallen near the U. S. legation, that buildings within three blocks were in flames.

Next morning the President appealed to both Finland and Russia, said to both: "The ruthless bombing from the air of civilians in unfortified centres of population . . . has sickened the hearts of every civilized man and woman and has profoundly shocked the conscience of humanity." He requested an immediate reply from both countries. At his press conference the President went further, read in a grave, strained voice: "The news of the Soviet naval and military bombings within Finnish territory has come as a profound shock to the Government and people of the United States. Despite efforts made to solve the dispute by peaceful methods to which no reasonable objection could be offered, one Power has chosen to resort to force of arms. . . . The people and Government of Finland have a long honorable and wholly peaceful record which has won for them the respect and warm regard of the people and the Government of the United States." Called his strongest statement denouncing the policy of conquest and his strongest denunciation of "wanton disregard of law," it went beyond his appeals for peace when Hitler invaded Poland.

But it lagged far behind U. S. public opinion. Hostility to Russia that swept up with the German-Russian Pact, that turned into contempt at weird Russian claims of Finnish aggression, flared to new highs, led to loud demands that the U. S. break off diplomatic relations with Russia. Said Senator King of Utah: "My country will no longer grasp the bloody hands of Stalin." Said Senator Vandenberg: "There is no rational alternative except to drive every trace of Communism and Naziism out of the U. S." Said Senator Russell of Georgia, "Of all the terrible incidents of this year, this is the most tragic." Said Nebraska's Norris, "This is the worst thing that has happened yet."

Driving from Palo Alto to San Francisco, to speak at a dinner of Young Republicans, ex-President Herbert Hoover hurriedly drafted a statement that turned out to be far more effective than the laboriously rewritten speeches that he polishes when he has time. "Civilization has struck a new low with the Communists' attack on peaceful Finland. It is a sad day to every decent and righteous man and woman in the world. We are back to the morals and butchery of Genghis Khan.

"[Finland] is a little nation, but a great nation. Size is not the measure of greatness. Greatness lies in the industry, the courage, the character of people. It lies in the intelligence, the education, the moral and spiritual standards of a people. It lies in their love of peace and freedom. All these measures of greatness can be expressed in one word--Finland.

"They will make a brave fight. They may be overwhelmed by the hordes whose morals are the morals of Communism, whose methods are cowardly. . . . Even if Finland falls, the day will come when it will rise again--for the forces of righteousness are not dead in the world."

Although soon Republicans were making their denunciations retroactive, insisting that Russia should never have been recognized in the first place ("Why all this tenderness toward Russia?" asked Herbert Hoover) the almost unanimous U. S. condemnation of Russia made it unlikely that the diplomatic steps taken could become an issue of domestic politics.

For 500,000 U. S. Finns, politically uninfluential, scattered from New York City to Grays Harbor, Wash., farmers in Michigan, loggers and fishermen in Washington, iron miners in Minnesota, the week's news was different:

> In Manhattan, where 15,000 Finns live in close-packed Harlem, Representative Bruce Barton spoke to 1,500 Finns at the 22nd anniversary of Finnish independence: "In the endless drama of the universe, Finland has an indestructible part. The Finnish people can be attacked, but they cannot be conquered."

> In Michigan, with 100,000, preparations went on for celebration of Finnish Independence Day this week, and Finns were taking up "raianturva kerays" for Finnish aid. Raianturva kerays means frontier defense canvas, began when Finnish workmen voluntarily gave up vacations to work on forts on the Russian frontier.

> In Oregon, with first or second generation Finns, it looked as if Russia's invasion might influence labor politics. Voting was on in the potent International Woodworkers of America, with a battle revolving around President Harold Pritchett, able left-winger, ally of Harry Bridges, and like Bridges threatened with deportation. Stridently anti-Communist is the opposition in Portland, Ore. Because I.W.A.'s members are scattered in remote logging camps, balloting takes a month. There were only three days of voting left when the Russian invasion began, but out of the northwest camps to Portland's anti-Pritchett headquarters poured Swedes, Norwegians, Finns, to get their votes in before the polls closed.

> Growing fear in labor circles that desperate Communists might provoke disorder, try to create a new Centralia* case, was heightened by a riot in Aberdeen, Wash. In this lumber centre with a big Finnish colony, the Finnish Brotherhood scheduled an anniversary meeting. Grays Harbor Communists then scheduled a "Victory Dance" for the same date at the old Red Hall in B Street, two blocks from the Finn Hall. Twenty-five Communists appeared for the dance, huddled in the hall while a crowd of some 400 battered down the door, pulled siding off the walls, tore out the plumbing, smashed the piano, burned pictures of Stalin and Browder when talked out of burning down the hall. The 25 inside escaped unhurt through a rear door. Two blocks away the Finnish meeting went off quietly.

*In Centralia, Wash., in 1919, crowds attacked an I.W.W. hall, were fired upon. Result: four dead, seven imprisoned for 25 to 40 years. Last September the last imprisoned member of the I.W.W. was released.

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