--
March 21st, 1938
--
Oglethorpe University. The podium just up ahead, just then, his brace broke.
“Help me.” FDR said to his guard, Peter Swallow, a close companion.
“Yes, Comrade-President, I’ll get you right back up on your feet. Nothing to worry about.” Swiftly, he steadied him, hoisting him up by his shoulder before reapplying his brace to his left leg.
“Thank you so much, Peter!”
“Don’t mention it, Comrade-President.”
Arriving at the podium, he spoke to throngs of students gathered in the spacious University auditorium.
“My fellow Americans and comrades, I’d like to talk about … the economy. As you know, Gainsville Georgia is being rebuilt. After a deadly tornado tore through it. Proletarian Hundreds, some of them your fellow classmates, have sauntered forth over there, backed by the MRC and the Socialist Workers’ and Farmers’ Red Army to build back … better.” Applause and cheers just then had erupted from the gathered students. Waiting for the clapping and cheering to die down, he continued, “My administration has seen to it that Gainesville, then soon the whole country will finally, really breathe again after so much economic hardship and suffering. My Socialist New Deal is here to stay and is picking up the pace in my term in office. You are the arbiters of a great, brighter future … of hope!”
O, how the crowd roared and clapped their hands together in wild approval of his words! Finishing his speech, he and his guards strode back past the leafy trees and lawns and down nice, paved sidewalks of the mighty Oglethorpe University and then back to the black Ford car they’d ridden from the newly built, along modernist Socialist lines, Atlanta Airport.
Now, it was back to the airport and ultimately back to the United Capital City, formerly Washington, D.C.
“Goddamn, Comrade-President, that was powerful stuff!” Peter exclaimed as he put the car into gear.
“Well, I was always good at speaking, comrade Peter.”
“You are great at speaking!” Another guard named Thomas said, puffing on a slender cigarillo.
“That fall had me afraid for a moment, Thomas, my comrade.”
“You said it best back in ‘36 at your Inauguration: There is nothing to fear but fear itself!’”
Flashback in mind. FDR saw with perfect clarity the French assassin take aim at him, fire, and miss with an eight-dollar pearled-handled .32 revolver-five shots, all misses, one in the Miami park hitting instead of him the Chicago Labor Commune Marxian People’s Mayor Anton Cermak.
Breathing, in, out, deep, slow. Fear itself had just then ripped again through his chest. Managing it through the meditation, he said calmly “Yes, that’s so true!” Now, he chuckled loudly. Did they see his fear itself in him? Later, on the plane ride back, he settled into his padded seat, smoking, thinking about the fear itself he’d had only mere moments prior before falling quickly asleep.
March 21st, 1938
--
Oglethorpe University. The podium just up ahead, just then, his brace broke.
“Help me.” FDR said to his guard, Peter Swallow, a close companion.
“Yes, Comrade-President, I’ll get you right back up on your feet. Nothing to worry about.” Swiftly, he steadied him, hoisting him up by his shoulder before reapplying his brace to his left leg.
“Thank you so much, Peter!”
“Don’t mention it, Comrade-President.”
Arriving at the podium, he spoke to throngs of students gathered in the spacious University auditorium.
“My fellow Americans and comrades, I’d like to talk about … the economy. As you know, Gainsville Georgia is being rebuilt. After a deadly tornado tore through it. Proletarian Hundreds, some of them your fellow classmates, have sauntered forth over there, backed by the MRC and the Socialist Workers’ and Farmers’ Red Army to build back … better.” Applause and cheers just then had erupted from the gathered students. Waiting for the clapping and cheering to die down, he continued, “My administration has seen to it that Gainesville, then soon the whole country will finally, really breathe again after so much economic hardship and suffering. My Socialist New Deal is here to stay and is picking up the pace in my term in office. You are the arbiters of a great, brighter future … of hope!”
O, how the crowd roared and clapped their hands together in wild approval of his words! Finishing his speech, he and his guards strode back past the leafy trees and lawns and down nice, paved sidewalks of the mighty Oglethorpe University and then back to the black Ford car they’d ridden from the newly built, along modernist Socialist lines, Atlanta Airport.
Now, it was back to the airport and ultimately back to the United Capital City, formerly Washington, D.C.
“Goddamn, Comrade-President, that was powerful stuff!” Peter exclaimed as he put the car into gear.
“Well, I was always good at speaking, comrade Peter.”
“You are great at speaking!” Another guard named Thomas said, puffing on a slender cigarillo.
“That fall had me afraid for a moment, Thomas, my comrade.”
“You said it best back in ‘36 at your Inauguration: There is nothing to fear but fear itself!’”
Flashback in mind. FDR saw with perfect clarity the French assassin take aim at him, fire, and miss with an eight-dollar pearled-handled .32 revolver-five shots, all misses, one in the Miami park hitting instead of him the Chicago Labor Commune Marxian People’s Mayor Anton Cermak.
Breathing, in, out, deep, slow. Fear itself had just then ripped again through his chest. Managing it through the meditation, he said calmly “Yes, that’s so true!” Now, he chuckled loudly. Did they see his fear itself in him? Later, on the plane ride back, he settled into his padded seat, smoking, thinking about the fear itself he’d had only mere moments prior before falling quickly asleep.