Some day it's gonna happen: The 1940 Presidential Election
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  Some day it's gonna happen: The 1940 Presidential Election
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Author Topic: Some day it's gonna happen: The 1940 Presidential Election  (Read 1920 times)
hcallega
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« on: April 10, 2010, 05:00:39 PM »



The sun peaked through the rows of grey clouds. It was a little beacon, shinning ever brighter because of the weather. If it were any other day in March it wouldn't stand out, wouldn't be noticed. Why would it? After all the sun was always there. Always shinning light on the people of the Earth. But on days like this, days when there was nothing but clouds and rain, the sun stood out.

President Roosevelt liked to ponder over life's little metaphors. Of course he could understand that now, this day, America was that sun. The tides of totalitarianism were sweeping over the hills and through the forests of Europe, and by comparison the United States was a land of milk and honey. The President took his glasses off to wipe away a smudge. The economy could also be like the sun. There was a glimmer of hope, and most thought that the glimmer would quite soon become a shining light once again. But who could say? When the possibility of the entire free world becoming swallowed up by a sea of radicalism is so real, it's hard to say what can and cannot happen.

The one thing that the President did no was that his turn on the stage of the world was coming to an end. Or at least it was supposed to. He had played his part, played his turn. In his mind he had saved democracy and capitalism in America. At the very least had it not been for his New Deal the country would be in far worse shape. Why should he end it? Why should he have to? He had done so much, but there was so much more left to do. Was there really anybody who could keep up the growth? Anybody who would make the right choices when it came to Hitler and Tojo? He very much doubted that. But it wasn't up to him. History had made it's choice long ago. Washington had put the clamps on any President after him. After all, who would claim to be better than George Washington?

The President had already drafted his letter. He would not seek reelection that fall. He felt that it would be best if he did not wait until the convention. If he did he could be called an opportunist and a typical politician. There wouldn't be the same level of Republican competition if he waited until then, and those who knew Roosevelt would have an advantage in preparation. Yes, this was the best way to do it. Before he made his intentions public he would meet with his cabinet, discuss what this would mean and what he expected out of them. He was sure a few of them would run; Farley, Hopkins, maybe Wallace. Roosevelt also knew that Garner would run. Cactus Jack. They were not friends. They were essentially enemies. Had Roosevelt been shot then America would be in the hands of that man. There was no way in Hell that the President would let him win.

The President raised his head and looked back out the window. The clouds had covered over the sliver of sunlight and it was raining. A small smile cracked Roosevelt's stoic face, and he knew that whatever happened next would be because of him. That was the way that he liked it.

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Uncle Albert/Admiral Halsey
hantheguitarman
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« Reply #1 on: April 10, 2010, 05:03:56 PM »

Looks great so far! Smiley
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justW353
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« Reply #2 on: April 10, 2010, 05:34:53 PM »

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HappyWarrior
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« Reply #3 on: April 10, 2010, 06:03:57 PM »

This looks like both a strong TL idea and you are always a very good author.
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hcallega
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« Reply #4 on: April 11, 2010, 10:46:41 AM »

Young Bob

The cattle pastures of Wisconsin are a beautiful sight. The grandeur of the beautiful green fields speckled with black and white cattle and the occasional farm house show just how incredible America is. Senator La Follete could sleep well knowing that when he returned home his state would be just as beautiful. It would remain, straddled between the Lakes Michigan and Superior. The farmers would be there. So would the cows.

That kind of security was calming and peaceful, far more so than the world the Senator was returning to. Depression, debt, war. These things were not peaceful, not sturdy or stable. But they were just as much a part of Senator Bob La Follete's world as the farmland and lake front views. As his train rolled through the pasture land he chose not to dwell on Washington. Not now. The sleeping car rumbled over a small river bridge and he was awoken from his afternoon nap. Picking up Hemingway the Senator got up from his nice silky bed and walked towards the dining car. He didn't have a fancy campaign train filled with staff and donors. No, he was only a Senator and because of that he rode today upon the old Union-Pacific. It was only three o'clock and the sun still shone through the car, illuminating the silverware and the few diners still enjoying their lunch. The Senator sat in a wiry old chair, not the most comfortable but certainly nice enough that he could enjoy his book and the view.

Not surprisingly it only took the Senator a few minutes before his mind began to drift towards his destination, Washington D.C. and the Capitol Building. He would return to his chambers, greet his family and staffers, and resume his schedule of work. Many of his friends wondered about him, how he always stayed so positive, so upbeat and happy. Very few of these friends were fellow Senators. He was a progressive within an increasingly conservative caucus. The Conservative Coalition had ground much of the President's legislation to a halt, and even Senator Bob's support for the man had began to wain. As a rare independent within the Senate Chambers, the Senator was in a unique position. He had been a Republican for all of his life, much like his late father. However he had been one in the Teddy Roosevelt mold, far less then that of the Hardings and Coolidges of the '20s. He had fully embraced the New Deal programs and saw them as fully in line with his active ideology. As he saw his party increase it's opposition to the President he made the decision to abandon it, at least for a little while. He and his brother Phil had formed the Wisconsin Progressive Party, and it had faired quite well within the state. However even Young Bob had his limits, and following the President's push for expanding the Navy he had begun to hedge away from the man. La Follete saw no need to increase the militarism already so present in the country. He feared that a move towards US involvement in Europe was growing ever nearer, and he would not stand hand in hand with a hawk.

A few tables away from the Senator a conversation started to get particularly heated. The Senator couldn't afford not to notice, and he cocked his head just slightly to get a better perspective. He could only hear ever other word, but what slipped into his ears was absolutely consuming. Talk of a retirement, a very important one. The President! He's not going to run again! Not shocking news, but now official. There had always been that concern with the Senator that this President, this one who was so outstandingly popular, might reach over the line set in the sand so many years ago. He was happy to here that Roosevelt would take the honorable way out and avoid the trouble of four more years. But then, as these words sank into the Senators head he began to think, began to worry. What of him now? What of his own future? There would certainly be those in Washington who would urge him to run, urge him to bring his party back to the White House. Winning the Republican nomination wouldn't be so hard, after all Alf Landon was closer to the Senator's then someone like Bob Taft. There was no reason to believe that he couldn't do it. But could he even run for the GOP ticket? Technically he wasn't one of them. But this talk could wait. After all, there were cows to watch.

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hcallega
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« Reply #5 on: April 12, 2010, 03:34:33 PM »

Today is the Day

It was a decidedly nicer day then just a few days earlier. It was a warm and bright Tuesday, and was thus far nicer then the wet Sunday on which the President had made his fateful choice. He would not run for reelection, and by now many within Washington had already heard the grumblings. Many in the House and Senate had called the White House asking for confirmation, and the President would meet with the Democratic leadership that evening. However his first task would be to address his cabinet and brain trust, the best and the brightest.

They all were there: Hopkins, Perkins, Wallace and Ickes. They were the New Deals field marshals. Without their intense commitment to the President's agenda there would be no agenda. It would have fallen apart. Ickes and Hopkins had proven to be effective at administering the public works aspect of the New Deal, while Wallace and Perkins had been the ideological headstrong and forthright crusaders who would never give up, never give in. Then there was his foreign policy team: Woodring and Edison. These were not the elite men that Roosevelt would rely on for policy. After all, he himself had been Secretary of the Navy under Wilson. Now that was a man who understood foreign policy! He had learned from that great man and fully understood what he had done right and wrong.

But the most important men in the room all seemed to have the same look on their faces. They were anticipating something, all very eager. Their hands were folded in their laps, their backs strait and erect, and their chins perked up to hear the news. These were the men who the President knew would run for his job. They were the ones who had the most to gain from this announcement, as well as the ones whose current jobs would instantly become secondary. The President already knew who they were: Cactus Jack, sitting across the table. He was rarely here for these kinds of meetings and despised his job, if you could even call it that. He was a conservative, the sort of Southern reactionary that had become so powerful within the party framework over the past generation. Ever since Wilson had broken the barrier for Dixie-raised candidates they had come back in force. Just eight years earlier Garner had thought that he would be sitting in the Oval Office, and the President knew it. He was not eager to see the burly Texan move across the street, and he would do everything in his power to keep him out.

Then there were the men that the President liked and admired, his go to men. There was Hull, sitting to the Presidents right. He was a elderly man who had waited a long time for this chance. He had a smooth southern drawl, and spoke ever so slowly. But anyone who thought that he wasn't as sharp as a knife was mistaken, and they often payed the price. He had sat in  Congress for many years, and had been the type of well spoken and intelligent conservative that the President could admire. They didn't see eye-to-eye on many things, but they both agreed that the President had done what he had to to save the Union. He was a brilliant man, and could be trusted to lead the country through the tough times ahead.

Across the table from Hull was Jim Farley. Farley, the man who had taken Roosevelt first to Albany and now to the White House, looked the part of his Irish-Catholic background. He was a fighter from the old Burroughs of New York City, and he would never back down from a good political fight. He already knew what the President would say, had helped him write the speech for God's sake! But for appearances he would act surprised. After all, like any political mastermind he knew that someone was always watching. The President knew and admired him, saw him as someone tirelessly devoted to the New Deal and it's objectives. More so then Hull or Garner he could be trusted to fulfill the President's long term domestic goals. He was a good man, a good soldier.

Before the President spoke he cleared his throat. Leaning over the table he said in his typically hifalutin dialect "I've come here to tell you something many of you already know........"
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hcallega
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« Reply #6 on: April 15, 2010, 07:18:55 PM »

The Lone Eagle

Charles Lindbergh liked his coffee black. Anything else was too weak for the man who had withstood so much. He had flown across the Atlantic and lost his son to a kidnapping. For almost twenty years his entire life had been in the public eye, and to drink coffee with cream or sugar was simply not an option.

Lindbergh gripped the paper in his hands with far less powerfully than he took his coffee. He typically flipped through the news and sports sections before settling in for the musings of the local columnists on this or that. But today was different. On this morning he gripped his paper with a force that he normally reserved for his coffee and flying. It was no coincidence. Today he read something that truly made him shake. President Roosevelt was retiring. Lindbergh was no fan of Roosevelt. He saw the New Deal as a frightening first step towards socialism and the President's interventionist policies as incredibly dangerous. However he respected the man. He was his President, and therefore he was bound to be loyal to him. The fact that he was leaving office was very disconcerting for the normally very calm man.

Lindbergh wouldn't tell his wife. If he told her she would instantly think that he was interested in running. She would interrogate him and make his week miserable. None of that now. Instead he would wait until she saw it on her own. She would ask him about it and he would offer a quip saying this or that. But he wouldn't show his hand. After all, he really didn't know what he would do himself.

Lindbergh had been involved in politics ever since he became an international celebrity in 1927. He had been a Republican, had seen the party as the voice for his interests. He believed in America first, and was very proud of his pedigree. The Democrats were essentially a party of muts. They were so divided both racially and ideologically. No party could lead if they were so divided. Of course not all Republicans were good, but by far the party held on to some basic principals that it rarely if ever violated. America, liberty, enterprise. Even the so-called progressives in his party rallied behind those beliefs. For the Democrats it was all about whatever interest needed what. If that meant a tax-cut here or a kick-back there they would do it. That was wrong. President Roosevelt was able to harness that system, not change it. For Lindbergh that was simply not good enough. But Roosevelt's lackies were even worse. Farley, Hull, Morgenthau. They would do whatever it took to win, and they would probably pull the same stunt this time around. That was what really scared Lindbergh. A POLITICIAN would become President. He couldn't let that happen, and if it looked that way he might just have to run. All this talk made him thirsty. He reached for his black coffee which had grown cool. He raised it to his lips and took in a deep sip. That was nice.
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