Nuff Said

Onetime Interior Secretary Harold Ickes had the venom of a John Adams and the gossipy nature of a Gideon Welles, but, unlike those famed governmental diarists, he lacked the sense of standing witness to history in the making. Harold Ickes was primarily interested in great events in so far as they soothed or ruffled Harold Ickes. Nevertheless, The Lowering Clouds (Simon & Schuster; $6), third published volume of Ickes' sometimes fascinating diary, does make a contribution to historical accuracy: it should go far to correct the deep public impression that Harold Ickes was a lovable and forth right "old curmudgeon." He reveals himself as a devious old egotist.

In point of time, The Lowering Clouds covers the two momentous years leading up to Pearl Harbor, yet Ickes was largely concerned with his efforts to achieve "the real ambition of my public service." That ambition was to effect the transfer of the Forest Service from the Agriculture Department to Interior. "If Forestry is not transferred," wrote Ickes, "I will feel that I am a bankrupt intellectually and emotionally, and I undoubtedly will resign." His wife, Jane Dahlman Ickes, thought that "I ought not to resign in any event because, as she sees it I am too valuable to the country in this time of crisis. However, I regard this as the overestimation that a sweet wife who is in love is likely to place upon her husband's activities and importance." So, when the Forestry transfer was not approved, Ickes sent President Roosevelt a letter of resignation--neither for the first nor the last time. The President replied: "We--you & I--were married 'for better, for worse'--and it's too late to get a divorce & too late for you to walk out of the home%#151;anyway. I need" you! Nuff said." Ickes confided to his diary: "It is pretty difficult to do anything with a man who can write such a letter." Ickes stayed on.

The Hobbyists. Harold Ickes collected federal agencies just as F.D.R. collected stamps and Justice William Douglas collected new poker-type games to name for his Supreme Court colleagues (one was called "Bushy" after bearded Chief Justice Charles Evans Hughes). Aside from Forestry, for example, Ickes made a grab for power over TVA, and when TVA Administrator David Lilienthal protested, Ickes wrote: "He is the type that wants his own little stick of candy to suck in the corner without anyone's being allowed to go anywhere near him." When a Roosevelt order deprived Ickes of some of his precious agencies, Ickes moaned: "I really believe that I am better physically when I am overworked. Ever since the President took PWA and other agencies away from me, I have felt a distinct loss in energy and initiative."

Ickes saw himself as a modest man. He was genuinely hurt when he was portrayed, at a Gridiron Club dinner, as a strutting, vain Donald Duck. Said he: "Of course this was really offensive . . . No man is a judge of himself, but I have completely fooled myself if I give the impression to anyone that I am conceited and possess a feeling of superiority over other men." Yet Ickes could describe his part in a political radio debate in these words: "He [Ickes' opponent] expected the head-down, arm-flailing rush, trying to beat him into a corner or to knock him out. Instead, I danced around him, fighting with my head instead of with my fists, with the result that I never came near enough so that he could deliver a blow to the body, although I kept tapping him on both head and body."

Directing the Cyclone. Of the fact that Ickes was useful to F.D.R. and the New Deal, there is no doubt. Items:

P: When Presidential Secretary Steve Early kneed a New York Negro policeman in the groin a week before the 1940 elections, Ickes was set to work re-wooing the Negro vote. Harry Hopkins, said Ickes, called and "wanted me to get hold of Marian Anderson to have her attend a meeting and sing or issue a statement." Marian sang.

P: When Vice President John Nance Garner ("that political billy goat from Texas") sought the Democratic nomination for President in 1940, it was Ickes, at F.D.R.'s suggestion, who tried--without success--to arrange for newspaper cartoonists to draw Garner "throwing a bottle of 'red eye' into the ring."

P: When Wendell Willkie was given the 1940 Republican nomination, it was Ickes who called upon the Department of Justice for confirmation of the report that "Willkie was originally spelled in some unmistakable German way."

P:Ickes worked tirelessly, stirring up enthusiasm for a third-term nomination for F.D.R. This effort, however, came to an unhappy end--for Ickes. When he arrived in Chicago for the convention, he found Harry Hopkins set up in the Blackstone Hotel, acting as convention manager for the absent President. Wrote Ickes of Hopkins: "Here he was sitting at the throttle and directing the movement that I had started and had kept hammering away at until it swept through the country like a cyclone."

The Basilisk Eye. Among the other odds and ends of Ickes' diary is the story of his efforts to encourage F.D.R. to intercede directly with the Vatican for the appointment of Bishop Bernard J. Sheil as Archbishop of Chicago. Said Ickes: "I do not think that the Vatican would have dared to turn him down if he had made strong representations.'' Ickes also relates rather gleefully how the President "developed the groundwork for a campaign against Willkie. He is going to try to tie Willkie in with the idea of the 'corporate state,' which was Mussolini's original idea." Concluded Ickes with relish: "It seems to me inevitable that in this campaign we will fight out the issue of democracy versus fascism."

The most unforgettable portrait in the diary, however, is that of the Roosevelt Cabinet in session. Wrote Ickes: "Perkins was at her worst on Friday at Cabinet meeting, and that can be pretty bad indeed. When her turn came, she took a long breath and started out on a 20-or 25-minute discourse. And, as usual, only the President listened to her. Harry Hopkins wrote me a note something to this effect: 'Elementary course in Government from four to five by Professor Frances Perkins.' Later, he passed this to Jesse Jones, who was sitting next to Perkins. I looked at Jim Farley on one occasion and discovered him with his eyes closed. Bob Jackson was nodding from time to time, and, at intervals, he and Morgenthau were joking about something. Hull sat with the air of an early Christian martyr, with his hands folded, looking at the edge of the table without seeing it or anything else. I think that he was totally oblivious as to what was going on. As usual. I studiously avoided being caught by Perkins' basilisk eye. Henry Wallace was contemplating the ceiling." The date was May 24, 1940. The Germans had burst through the Maginot line and were heading for Paris.

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