1. [Obligatory] Convention Scene
The Democratic National Convention of 1944 took place at a crucial juncture in the history of the United States. The Nazi regime in Europe, despite scoring crushing victories over the Soviet Union in 1943 and early 1944, had been driven back to eastern Ukraine by Soviet forces, and Allied troops had landed in France. In the Pacific Japanese forces were in full retreat toward the Home Islands and the war itself looked like it would be over in time for the midterms.
With President Roosevelt still solidly popular at the end of an unprecedented third term there was little question that he would win reelection. The only question was what to do with Henry Wallace.
The former Agriculture Secretary had served admirably as Vice President since 1941, but worries were beginning to emerge over his more controversial leftist beliefs and perceived over friendliness with labor.
While Wallace remained popular with the Democratic base, the party leaders held dimmer views of the man. Especially considering President Roosevelt’s worsening health.
Wallace himself wished to remain on the ticket and was shocked when Roosevelt reluctantly announced that he was open to running mate choices other than his Vice President. Gone was the Roosevelt who had famously threatened to drop himself from the 1940 election if Wallace wasn’t selected as his running mate.
All the same he possessed significant inertia and it was entirely possible that he could win the nomination outright if the party bosses were unable to settle on an alternative.
With Roosevelt confirmed as the party’s choice for President an unprecedented fourth time in a row, the party bosses began to look for alternatives to Henry Wallace.
This is where Harry Truman came in…
_______
Truman was in a daze as he exited the convention hall. He had driven to the convention ready to endorse James Byrnes and get the whole thing out of the way, but instead had found himself attracting a truly disconcerting amount of attention. Franklin Roosevelt, the Franklin Roosevelt had named him as a possible successor to Henry Wallace. Jesus Christ.
It was stunning just how readily the party men took to him. And he supposed that when the alternatives were the controversial Henry Wallace and the admittedly radical Douglas...
"I shouldn't be surprised." He told himself, and straightened his coat. He wasn't really watching where he was going, just letting his legs carry him where they would, and it was for this reason that he turned into the alleyway. In the fading light light of the day it practically radiated a dirty sort of darkness, an absence of light that signaled danger and ugliness hiding just out of sight.
"I could be the next Vice President." Truman said quietly to himself, but that wasn't really getting to the roots of his nervousness. Part of him, buried deep down, was thinking about Roosevelt, and quietly whispering that the President probably wouldn't survive a fourth term in office. Not with all of the horrors of the war and the weary world weighing down upon him. What Truman ought to have said was; 'I could be the next President.'
But he didn't. Because someone was stepping in front of him, out from behind a stack of discarded wooden pallets, the unmistakable jagged edge of a knife pressed flat against one thigh. Truman jerked backward, the man stepped forward, and suddenly the knife was coming up, steel glinting dangerously close to Truman's throat.
"Gimme your cash." Growled the mugger, breath stale and reeking of booze. He was unsteady on his feet, Truman realized, bobbing erratically from side to side, the knife wavering unpleasantly, the tip glittering with a sinister light. Truman took a step back but hit the wall of the alley, the mugger closing in, bloodshot eyes wide and fierce.
“You son of a bitch," Truman said, more surprised than anything, "you get the hell away from me!" The mugger blinked, momentarily stunned, then lashed forward. Truman tried to dodge but felt a line of intense cold across his face, from cheekbone to ear. For a surreal moment he wasn't sure what had happened, then searing warmth zipped over the wound. He could feel blood sheeting down his chin, could taste salt and iron on his lips.
"Gonna cut you again if you-" Truman punched the mugger square in the mouth before he could finish his threat, felt the man's lips squash down over crumbling teeth. The mugger's head snapped back and he nearly fell, but before he could his free hand found Truman's shirtfront and yanked the Senator forward. Truman just barely avoided falling, as did the mugger, who reeled and slashed desperately away with his knife. A pinprick of hot pain flashed in Truman's gut, he lashed out again and caught the mugger on the ear. His assailant yelped and spun back, falling into the pile of pallets before scrambling away, dog-like, up the alley and out of sight.
"Get back here!" Truman shouted, weaving out into the center of the alley, "I'm not..." But even as he tried to demand the mugger's return so that he could hand him over to the police, a head rush made the world spin sickeningly around him, like he was stuck in the eye of a cyclone. His face felt hot and swollen, and his gut not much better. Putting a hand over the wound he felt a peculiar hard lump. Confused, he glanced down.
There was the handle of a knife sticking from his stomach, blood pulsing gently from the puncture, staining his shirt, ruining his suit.
This suit cost me forty dollars. Truman thought distractedly, then the world faded away. He was falling...falling...
Fallen.
_______
“Senator Truman is alive,” Governor Robert Kerr of Oklahoma announced, mopping sweat from his shining forehead with a handkerchief, “but in serious condition…he’s been stabbed.” At this came a wave of sympathetic noise from the assembled delegates, who had crowded back into the hall to listen to the news. For nearly an hour now rumors had been circulating concerning he fate of Truman, who had been carried from an alleyway, blood-soaked and immobile, by a pair of policemen.
“Who did it?!” Someone demanded. Kerr paused, wondering whether it was wise to answer that, then shook his head.
“We don’t know…but when we get our hands on that son-of-a-bitch we’ll make him pay!” Kerr, who was fond of Truman, was shepherded quickly away from the microphone, but not before eliciting a lusty cheer from the crowd.
In the back rooms, framed by curls of cigar smoke, the bosses continued their scheming.
_______
"Truman is out of the question," one of the party men said, "who does that leave?" It was a rhetorical question. The only other alternative candidate that Roosevelt had expressed anything approaching accommodation towards was William O. Douglas, an Associate Justice on the Supreme Court.
"I'm not voting for Douglas." Someone else said stubbornly.
"And neither is the south..." Mused another party official. "The last thing we need right now is to antagonize Byrd and his people." There was a solemn assent to that. Most of the party men in the room were northerners and had a quiet sort of disdain for their southern brothers, but recognized them as an important part of the party nonetheless.
"Christ," a balding man in a mauve suit jacket threw up his hands, "is Henry Wallace gonna end up President 'cause we couldn't figure out an alternative?!"
"There's plenty of time until the balloting starts..." A man towards the back of the room said reassuringly, but the outburst had started people muttering.
"We ought to go for a general." An Ohioan said firmly.
"In the middle of a war?" Asked a sullen Missourian pointedly, still apparently mourning the electoral demise of his senator.
"How about Forrestal?" The Ohioan asked, and maybe half of the room went silent all at once. It was a contemplative silence.
"The Navy Secretary?" Someone asked.
"Yeah. He's strong on the military, probably supports the New Deal. I think he'd work out." More than a few people didn't seem convinced however.
"Would nominating a Red-baiter like Forrestal be good for our relations with the Soviets?" Fretted one man. A New Yorker curled his lip contemptuously at his colleague's concerns.
"What would we lose if we jettisoned the Bolsheviks? Fuckers'll probably break ties once Hitler's dead anyhow.” An argument promptly erupted in response to the New Yorker’s cynical foreign policy declaration, but most of the room stayed out of it.
They were thinking about James Forrestal.
Maybe he was an option.
_______
James Vincent Forrestal had been Secretary of the Navy for almost exactly one year at the time of the 1944 Democratic Convention. And, in the height of irony, the Nazis had almost certainly guaranteed him the job.
In particular Erich von Manstein, who, in summer of 1943, had done what few others dared to do and actually won an argument with Hitler.
The argument was over the Kursk salient, a bulge in the Soviet lines that centered around the Russian town of Kursk. What Hitler wanted was for German forces to plunge into the salient from either side and link up at Kursk, forming a pocket where Soviet forces could be eliminated at the Nazi’s leisure. This would shorten the German defensive line and hopefully erase doubts lingering from the disastrous German defeat at Stalingrad only a few months earlier.
Manstein on the other hand suspected that the Soviets were aware of Kursk’s strategic importance and figured that if he were to throw the Wehrmacht against it he would meet up against heavy Soviet defenses and be stopped dead. His proposed strategy was for German forces to make a measured withdrawal over the Donets River, towards Kiev. The Soviets would follow, so theorized Manstein, allowing the Germans to turn and launch prepared counter attacks into the exposed Soviet flanks.
Hitler rejected this plan out of hand, only to be met by Manstein standing firm, insisting upon the soundness of his operational ability. Nobody was entirely sure why Manstein did this, but it was certainly at great personal risk. Hitler was not a fan of Manstein’s continual requests for operational autonomy and distrusted him almost on principle.
Hitler, obsessed with keeping hold of eastern Ukraine, viewed Manstein’s plan as something just short of insanity. Why on earth would anyone ever allow German forces to retreat? Especially in the face of Jewish controlled Bolsheviks.
But after some time, and gentle persuasion by persons unknown (though very probably Joseph Goebbels, who had begun to recognize that drastic measures would have to be taken to prevent a Soviet victory), Hitler slowly came around, issuing vaguely worded orders to Manstein, reluctantly granting him operational autonomy once more.
On the other side of the front Josef Stalin prowled the Kremlin, impatient with what he viewed as slow progress in pushing the fascists from his land. Though the Nazi war machine, which had been within eyeshot of Moscow not so long before, was now sprawled across the western edge of Russia proper, this was not nearly good enough for Stalin.
The Germans had been battered by their great loss at Stalingrad, but not broken. Not even close. Even now they were regrouping and getting ready for new offensives into the motherland. The more he thought about it the more likely it seemed that the Nazis would soon be coming for his people once more.
If the Germans were to strike, Stalin decided, they would strike towards Kursk. That was where the most pronounced salient was, an area that Stalin could easily imagine Hitler having fits about just looking at it on a map. Something needed to be done about that.
Reinforced in his thinking by Lavrentiy Beria, head of the NKVD, Stalin called upon the commanders who led men across the massive area that made up the Kursk salient. Foremost amongst these were Stavka coordinator Georgy Zhukov and Central Front commander Konstantin Rokossovsky, both skilled commanders who were viewed highly by Stalin, (though it must be noted that Stalin viewed the opportunistic Zhukov with more than a little wariness).
Shortly afterward, and over some small protest from Rokossovsky, Stalin advocated an offensive against Wehrmacht forces around the Kursk salient. This was probably fueled by diversionary troop movements ordered by Manstein, who aimed to create the impression of unrest and potential withdrawal along German lines.
By early June of 1943 both sides were more or less prepared for what lay ahead. The Soviets, with Zhukov installed in a central commanding role and Rokossovsky, Nikolai Vatutin (commander of the Voronezh Front on the southern shoulder of the salient) and Ivan Konev (commander of the Steppe Front at the far southern edge of the salient) as support.
Manstein, supported by Walter Model to the north and Werner Kempf to the south, readied himself for an imminent Soviet attack. One that landed on the first of July, immediately after Manstein began a flexible withdrawal towards Kiev.
In good spirits, the Soviet armies raced west after the withdrawing Germans, much like the Romans at Cannae, marching towards an outnumbered enemy…and leaving their flanks just a little more stretched than would have been wise. For most of the first day the two sides exchanged sharp bursts of fire but did not meet in a decisive clash until the evening, when the Germans turned.
At this point the Soviets had traveled nearly fifty miles beyond their initial lines and were at the Donets River, which Manstein planned to use as a natural barrier. Zhukov had expected something like this but kept on going, meeting Manstein head on.
With both sides now engaged in a lively fight along the Donets, Kempf made his move, pushing massed panzers along a narrow corridor in the south and meeting the Soviets northeast of Kharkov.
Meanwhile Model had also moved, pushing the men under his command into the Soviet flank along what had been the northern shoulder of the salient. For a brief moment everything froze. Then the panzers broke through. And Zhukov’s offensive was lost completely.
The battle was far more complicated than that, as would be anything that stretched across so much ground and involved as many men, but as basic a summary as could be provided would be that the Soviets raced in, were flanked, and then lost. Badly.
By the end of the week the Germans were in Kursk. By the end of July they had accomplished everything Hitler had wanted and more. The Kursk salient had been completely erased. Perhaps a million young Soviet men had been killed or wounded, along with one hundred thousand Germans. The battle was so spectacularly one sided that Stalin never spoke of it again after 1943. Not once. Not even when asked.
Zhukov died two times during the Kursk debacle. Once when his armies shattered in the field. Twice when he received an invitation from Stalin to shoot himself. Rokossovsky and most of the others survived, perhaps because their sectors had merely been shoved back rather than shattered entirely like Zhukov’s. But even then they found themselves under the eye of an unfriendly Politburo.
The Soviets had taken the momentum given to them by their victory at Stalingrad and run it directly into a brick wall. The Wehrmacht had proven that it still had some fight left in it. Drastic measures would need to be taken.
Back in the United States the news of Kursk shook the government. Roosevelt called for Stalin but received no answer from the angry and frightened dictator. Wallace did something similar, and off in Hawaii, where he was visiting naval bases on a photo-ops tour, Navy Secretary Frank Knox was speaking to his deputy when the news came in. Ironically the subject was the Soviet military. Knox had been saying something disparaging about the state of the Soviet Navy when he received the news.
“Goddamn.” He said mildly, and then slumped sideways out of his chair. James Forrestal, who would be Undersecretary of the Navy for about twenty more minutes, leapt from his own chair, put his hands atop his head in shock, and yelled for help.
And that was how the Nazis gave James Forrestal his job.
_______
Forrestal was actually at the convention, but not of his own volition. He had little interest in electoral politics but had been asked to come by Franklin Roosevelt, who Forrestal had something of a friendship with.
Before becoming involved in his administration Forrestal had worked for Roosevelt as a publicist during the man’s 1932 run, and the two men had even been neighbors for a period of time. Forrestal had since moved to Arlington in order to be closer to D.C., but remained close to Roosevelt in work if not outright location.
Shortly thereafter Roosevelt had appointed Forrestal as Undersecretary of the Navy, a position he had held until Manstein won his argument with Hitler. Now he was Secretary of the Navy…and receiving quite a lot of unexpected attention.
Forrestal had never been an especially sociable person, even here at the convention he stuck to the walls and tried not to talk to anyone he didn’t know. There wasn’t anything to be gained in expressing sympathy for poor injured Harry Truman. Expressions of unhappiness wouldn’t suture shut his wounds or replace the blood that he’d lost.
Or discussing anything else really. He’d answered quite a few questions about Navy doings from one congressmen or another, those at least served a purpose, but cheerfully bashing the Republicans or wondering about Henry Wallace didn’t exactly fill Forrestal with joy.
So there he was, hands in his pockets, standing up against the wall, when a dark haired man touched his elbow.
“Secretary Forrestal,” the man said, voice low, “may we have a word?” Forrestal glanced over to the entrance of the back rooms, where, sure enough, he could see a pair of other men watching him intently.
“Of course…” He went in, wrinkling his nose at the fug of cigar smoke that seemed to be leaking from another room further back.
“Gentlemen,” the dark haired man said, ushering Forrestal into this room, “the man of the hour has arrived.” Forrestal glanced back, confused. The man of the what?
Before him was a conference table lined with men. They examined him curiously, a few muttering conspiratorially to each other.
“You’ll have to forgive my ignorance,” Forrestal said, scanning the faces before him and only recognizing a few, “but why exactly am I here?” A pair of the men exchanged a knowing look.
“You know by now that Senator Truman was stabbed earlier this evening.” Said an older man sitting at the head of the table, facing Forrestal.
“So unfortunate.” Added a second man.
“A genuine tragedy.” Said a third.
“It really is,” Forrestal said, “but I must ask again…”
“It’s sort of a funny story really, how we decided on you.” The older man said, cutting Forrestal off. Forrestal watched him with bemused curiosity. There didn’t seem to be any malice in the man’s action, just supreme unawareness of his surroundings.
“Tell me about it,” chuckled a man with a New York accent, “I think Eisenhower was brought up at one point.”
“But he would be much too busy…and probably too conservative. He is a Republican, isn’t he?” Asked a midwesterner. Forrestal wondered briefly if he was having a stroke, then decided that he probably wasn’t. He was just listening to politics.
“Probably,” said the man at the head of the table with a noncommittal shrug, “but anyway, it’s good to see you Secretary Forrestal, we’ve got exciting news for you.”
“Okay…” Forrestal said, trying to work out what that news might be. So far he had no idea.
“When Senator Truman was stabbed we were really in a bind, because other than Associate Justice William Douglas, he was the only vice presidential nominee that President Roosevelt would accept. But he might give you a shot, don’t you think?” Forrestal opened his mouth but no words came out. Of all the things that he might have been brought back here to talk about, this was probably last on the list.
“Vice presidential…?” He managed faintly. The man at the head of the table nodded happily.
“It was quite the debate we had. But I think we’re all fairly united now. We think you’d be an excellent compliment to the ticket.”
“It would be very uninspiring geographically,” muttered a southerner, “but what can you do…”
“So what do you think Secretary Forrestal?” Asked the man at the head of the table.
“Why not Douglas?” Forrestal asked.
“Because Douglas is a fruitcake,” the New Yorker said matter of factly, “just like Henry Wallace. We want a pragmatist in the White House, someone who isn’t afraid to look into the future and see what the country really needs.” Forrestal leaned back against the wall, feeling lost and slightly ill. This was all so unexpected.
“What does the President think?” Forrestal asked.
_______
Roosevelt was noncommittal about it. That was probably the best way to interpret the message he sent.
Dear Bob:
You’ve written me again about the unfortunate events befalling Truman and your fondness of Forrestal. I have worked with James for the entirety of the war now and he has real fire in him.
Always sincerely,
Franklin D. Roosevelt
_______
Forrestal looked at the letter. Pored over every word of it. It was deeply unnerving. The party men did not look at all dissuaded by Roosevelt’s refusal to outright endorse a candidate other than Wallace.
“I think that the President wants to let Henry Wallace coast to the nomination by keeping us divided.” The man at the head of the table (Bob) said. This garnered a grumble of assent.
“Can you imagine Henry Wallace becoming President?” Asked the New Yorker, real outrage in his voice, “we’d be an SSR of the goddamn commies by the end of the decade.” At this something horrible occurred to Forrestal, for almost the first time.
These men were expecting Roosevelt to die before his term was up. In their eyes whoever was nominated as Roosevelt’s running mate tonight would go on to become President of the United States. Somehow that hadn’t really registered with Forrestal. But now that it did…
“Jesus.” He said mildly. Henry Wallace in the Oval Office was a concerning thought.
“What do you say Secretary Forrestal?” Bob asked. Forrestal looked up.
“I suppose I have to.” The party bosses began to grin.
_______
James Byrnes was less than pleased with the focus on Forrestal. After Truman had been stabbed (with a folded up speech endorsing Byrnes in his pocket none the less!) he had expressed his sympathies and been about to start maneuvering his way to the nomination when…
“James Forrestal is an…interesting choice.” He allowed with a polite smile. In front of him stood Robert Hannegan (the Bob that Forrestal had been speaking with mere minutes earlier), the chairman of the national party. A northerner. Was it really surprising that he’d snubbed Byrnes so casually?
“With the war going the way it is I think it would be valuable to have some defense experience on the ticket, especially since we’ve just pushed the Nips off Saipan.” Byrnes nodded, almost mechanically.
“The President spoke with me personally,” he said with a forced smile, “and told me that I was the most qualified man left in the running. Doesn’t that mean anything?” Hannegan sighed.
“The President has said many things…” Hannegan said carefully, “but you must understand that you’ve made Sidney nervous with some of the things you said about labor.” Sidney Hillman was the head of the Amalgamated Clothing Workers of America and perhaps the most powerful labor organizer in the country. He also voted Democrat, as did virtually everyone in his organization. Getting his support was very important for any liberal who wanted to get elected on a national scale.
“Has the President changed his mind?” Byrnes asked. Hannegan hemmed but Byrnes didn’t break his gaze.
“President Roosevelt did write me a missive indicating that he was open to the possibility of nominating Forrestal…” Byrnes had to bite back a sharp bark of mirthless laughter.
“And Forrestal doesn’t make Sidney nervous?” He asked pointedly.
“That’s the thing,” Hannegan said, “Forrestal is a defense man, he hasn’t had to put out public statements of his policy positions.”
“Then how the hell do you know if he’s any better than me?” Byrnes growled. Hannegan sighed.
“This party is a big tent James and we need to appeal to a wide swathe of people. That’s why we’ve won so big since 1932. If we were to narrow that appeal by…uh…”
“Nominating me.” Byrnes finished sourly.
“It’s not like that James,” Hannegan said, almost pleadingly, “I’m just following what the President has said.”
“I’m fed up with this.” Byrnes said, almost to himself, and stalked off, feeling betrayed.
_______
Elsewhere, Henry Wallace was chewing the inside of his cheek, waiting for balloting to begin and feeling oddly guilty. What had happened to Truman was tragic, and Wallace had offered his sympathies along with everyone else in the hall, but all the same he knew that it had definitely helped him.
Truman had been a uniting figure, mild, inoffensive, an establishment man through and through. And definitely someone who could have been a huge threat.
Despite Roosevelt’s vagaries concerning him Wallace did want to remain on the ticket. He had done good work as the President’s right hand man, and saw no reason why that should stop now. Especially when his favorables amongst Democrats were decent and he had the support of nearly half the delegates he would need to win the nomination.
If the party bosses intended to unseat him then they were welcome to try.
_______
1944 Democratic National Convention: 1st Vice Presidential Ballot
Vice President Henry Wallace of Iowa - 431.5
Navy Secretary James Forrestal of Maryland - 282.5
Senator John Bankhead of Alabama - 87
Senator Scott Lucas of Illinois - 61
Senator Harry Truman of Missouri - 60
Senator Alben Barkley of Kentucky - 40.5
Governor J. Melville Broughton of North Carolina - 40
Former Governor Paul McNutt of Indiana - 31
Governor Prentice Cooper of Tennessee - 26
Scattering - 116.5
_______
The overwhelming reaction by the delegates to Forrestal was, ‘who?’ For the most part the delegates were not well versed in naval policy and while they recognized that Navy Secretary was an important and powerful position, they had little idea of what it was that Forrestal actually did.
Some voted Truman out of sympathy for the stricken Senator, and others voted for politicians from their state out of a desire to remain uninvolved for the time being. The situation had become fluid, now almost anything could happen.
_______
“We’re putting you up in front of the delegates after the next ballot,” Bob said, putting a hand on Forrestal’s shoulder and guiding him into the back rooms, away from the milling delegates, “be sure to say that President Roosevelt has made his choice, and it is you.” Forrestal was supremely unexcited by this prospect.
“Who’s to say that I am though?” He protested. To him Roosevelt’s missive had sounded noncommittal at best. An endorsement of his abilities perhaps, but did that endorsement extend to the vice presidency?
“You’re an accomplished man Secretary Forrestal,” Bob said, “talk about your work…and that message that the President sent us. The wording doesn’t matter, it’s the intent behind them that does, and I can tell that Roosevelt likes you. Now get out there and go talk to some folks, we’ll get you a draft of a speech in,” a brief glance at his watch, “about five minutes, I got a guy out back working on it.” And just like that Forrestal was back out in the bustle of the convention hall, confused and vaguely alarmed by how fast things were moving.
“Jesus,” he said to himself, “I’m really doing this.”
_______
“We have to come up with something inclusive,” the party men backstage were saying, “a grand alliance of the anti-Wallace factions.” Bob Hannegan stood at the head of the table, wreathed in cigar smoke, hands on his hips.
“I’ve laid out our plan to Forrestal. He’s supportive. I’ve got him out there convincing people to vote for him.” There was a general nod of assent.
“You’ve called Sidney, right?” An Ohioan asked. Hannegan nodded.
“He has no idea who Forrestal is, which is good ‘cause that way we don’t have the unions breathing down our neck like if Byrnes was the one we were running.”
“What does Forrestal think about labor?” The Ohioan asked. Hannegan shrugged.
“No clue. He’s a defense man, it isn’t his job to care about labor.” The Ohioan sighed but didn’t press any further.
“So what were we discussing?” Another man asked. Hannegan smiled.
“Getting the other factions onboard, so we can end this thing quickly.”
“Do we have a name for this alliance?” The Ohioan asked.
“How about something like…the coalition of the willing.” A New Yorker suggested.
“I like that,” Hannegan said with an approving nod, “now let’s go win this thing.
_______
“Forrestal?” Alben Barkley asked, “he’s alright…a bit quiet though, don’t you think?” A half hour later the coalition’s efforts were well underway, with Hannegan speaking to Barkley, whose own name was in consideration for the vice presidential nomination.
“He’s deliberative,” Hannegan said with a smile, “and strong on defense. Which I think is a quality that we need in these trying times.” Barkley was quiet for a few moments.
“We cannot just look abroad though Bob, our nation is still in desperate need of New Deal remedies. Will Forrestal be able to continue those should the unthinkable occur?” That was not a question that Hannegan felt comfortable discussing, even if he himself thought it unlikely that Roosevelt would survive until 1949.
“When it comes down to it Alben,” he said, his tone growing solemn, “the choice we find ourselves about to make it one faces us right now. Forrestal or Wallace, Wallace or Forrestal. Nobody else is favored by the President, not with Truman lying on the brink of death in some operating room somewhere.”
“Not Douglas?” Barkley asked.
“Not Douglas,” Hannegan lied, “his beliefs are too…Wallace like for the party to stomach right now.” Truth be told Roosevelt would probably take Douglas over Forrestal, but for now he seemed content to sit back and let the party decide for him. Especially since it seemed likely that Wallace would win outright.
“Henry Wallace is a good man,” Barkley said after a moment’s pause, “but I agree with your assessment. He is not the man we need at the helm should…something happen to the President.” Hannegan nodded politely.
“Would you be willing to make an endorsement of Secretary Forrestal?” He asked. Barkley cocked his head slightly, regarding Hannegan.
“I would need to speak with him first, see where he stands on some core issues. I have no doubt that he’s a strong Democrat, but the devil’s in the details Bob.” Hannegan bid Barkley a polite farewell and swore quietly under his breath. Why couldn’t these people see the threat that Henry Wallace posed to the party?
Or maybe Barkley was angling for some important position in the Roosevelt administration once the election was won. That seemed slightly more likely, even if Barkley and the President had had a falling out over taxes recently.
He would simply have to wait and see.
_______
Elsewhere the coalition was getting similarly mixed results. Paul McNutt had been spooked enough by Forrestal that he was getting ready to endorse Henry Wallace, while a healthy majority of the Truman voters seemed supportive of the Navy Secretary’s bid for the nomination. The big unknown was Senator John Bankhead of Alabama, who held nearly ninety delegates, most from his home state. A moderate and segregationist, he was definitively opposed to Henry Wallace, but also decidedly suspicious of Forrestal as well.
“The Secretary’s position on segregation is unknown Senator,” a party man from Idaho was saying, “but with that being said, he understands the importance of tradition and discipline, having had a hand in running the Pacific theater of the war since Pearl Harbor.” Bankhead couldn’t help but smile. Such statements were unique to electoral politics, containing vague assurances but nothing of any real substance.
“I suppose that he has to be better than Wallace at least.” Bankhead said with a shrug. The party man nodded enthusiastically.
“Of course.” Bankhead took a moment to consider his position. Firstly, there was no way in hell that he’d ever win the nomination. Roosevelt, though he was certainly very nice to Bankhead (and the south in general…which any Democratic President needed if he wanted to be reelected), was looking for someone who wouldn’t scare away progressives. And Bankhead, though he was a good liberal on some things, was also an ardent segregationist…which wasn’t popular in entire morally bankrupt swathes of the north.
“And President Roosevelt has given his blessing?” Bankhead asked. The party man nodded and presented the Senator with a copy of Roosevelt’s missive. Bankhead read it carefully. To him it seemed like nothing more than an acknowledgement of Forrestal’s abilities as Secretary of the Navy…but perhaps there was more. Maybe. Roosevelt could be maddeningly vague at times.
“I cannot promise you an endorsement, but I’m not gonna stand in Mr. Forrestal’s way.” Bankhead said after some deliberation. That was good enough for the party man, who hurried along to find someone else to preach the merits of Forrestal to.
Bankhead read the letter again. Hmm.
_______
1944 Democratic National Convention: 2nd Vice Presidential Ballot
Vice President Henry Wallace of Iowa - 499.5
Navy Secretary James Forrestal of Maryland - 405
Senator Scott Lucas of Illinois - 57
Senator John Bankhead of Alabama - 57
Senator Harry Truman of Missouri - 41
Senator Alben Barkley of Kentucky - 40
Governor J. Melville Broughton of North Carolina - 29
Governor Prentice Cooper of Tennessee - 26
Former Governor Paul McNutt of Indiana - Pledged delegates to Wallace
Scattering - 21.5
_______
“Henry Wallace is less than a hundred delegates from the nomination,” Hannegan said calmly, “but we are actually in a very good position right now.” This little talk was addressed to a roomful of cohorts, who all looked rather nervous.
“How?” One asked gloomily.
“Because Wallace has hit his ceiling,” Hannegan said confidently, “and besides, we’re growing faster than he is. He gained sixty eight delegates in the last ballot, but Forrestal gained one hundred twenty three. If we keep that up then we beat Wallace.” A few of the party men exchanged looks.
“It’ll be close.” An Ohioan said, but he sounded a little more confident now.
“Maybe,” Hannegan shrugged noncommittally, “like I said, Wallace has hit his ceiling.”
_______
Meanwhile, at the front of the hall, James Forrestal stepped out on stage and assumed his place behind the lectern. He had tried to memorize the speech that Bob and his minions had given to him, but in the end nerves had turned the words into hieroglyphics. He pressed both hands onto the surface of the lectern and imagined himself projecting his anxiety down into the cool wood, away from him. A trick he had learned as a child.
“Ladies and gentlemen, the man who is winning the war in the Pacific, our Secretary of the Navy, James Vincent Forrestal.” This was Governor Kerr introducing him. Hannegan had decided that having the man who had given the convention’s keynote speech on his side was a good thing. And Forrestal agreed. Kerr looked calm and collected, in control of the vast audience of delegates and politicians that looked up at him.
“Thank you Mr. Kerr,” Forrestal said, forcing himself to smile, “and thank you all for coming here to Chicago to decide the future of our party.” He paused, tried to remember the next part of the speech but came up empty. Shit. What had Bob told him? Talk about his work? He was good at that he supposed, policy had always been more comfortable to him than politics.
“Not many of you know me,” he said with a weak smile, “and that’s alright…because my job is not to stand out in the public eye and guide the nation like President Roosevelt or the congressmen I can see standing with their constituents. My job is to organize and influence the path of this nation’s Navy. To guarantee that we not only defend our shores, but reach abroad and strike down those fountains of evil known as the Axis powers.” This garnered a smattering of applause. Forrestal became aware that his hands were trembling but he ignored that and pressed on.
“Since the attack on Pearl Harbor we have pressed out across the Pacific and are now within reach of the Japanese Home Islands. In the east we have destroyed the Nazi U-Boat fleet and landed troops in France. Our Navy, burgeoned by those wonderful floating fortresses we call aircraft carriers, has proved instrumental in winning this war and keeping the free world safe.” More applause, louder this time. Forrestal had to wait a few moments for it to die down enough to keep speaking.
“The aircraft carrier is the key to our future,” he said gravely, “for the carrier is not just a ship but an entire city afloat. Thousands of men work and live on each one, in charge of an entire flight of fighters, bombers, scout planes or any sort of aircraft that exists on this earth.” This wasn’t exactly true, but given enough time it probably would be. “A carrier group could stand up to most navies on the planet and emerge victorious, they are that powerful. And if my legacy must consist of nothing else, I would be happy to be the man that built up America’s carriers.” Over to his far left Forrestal could see a party man waving urgently over to him, out of sight of the audience. Once he had gotten Forrestal’s attention he held up a sheet of paper, on which ‘economics’ had been written in big bold letters.
Forrestal blinked and glanced out at the audience, unsure once more. He decided to draw upon his life once more. After all, Bob had insisted.
“But…uh…the military is not the only thing that matters. Once the war is over we will need to return to normalcy…a vigilant normalcy, but normalcy nonetheless. We will need to return to a peacetime economy…and…I believe that the best way we could do that would be to…to…” He stammered to a halt briefly and took a deep breath.
“Let me say that the New Deal is the greatest thing that has happened this century. I am a firm believer in the good of President Roosevelt’s economic policies.” The delegates applauded so vigorously that Forrestal had to wait nearly a minute before continuing. He spent this time trying to stop his hands from shaking. This was unfamiliar territory, he hadn’t thought so much about economic policy in years.
“When I was a young man, fresh out of the Navy in the aftermath of the Great War,” Forrestal said, deciding that now was the time to start talking about himself, “I made my living as a bond salesman and earned my fortune that way. I worked my way up through the ranks of the company I was a part of and eventually became President of it during the depths of the Depression. From there I saw firsthand the good that President Roosevelt’s policies have done the nation, and when he called upon me to serve as Undersecretary of the Navy in 1940 I was more than happy to accept.” More applause, the audience warming to Forrestal and his praise for Roosevelt.
“In the years since then we have been engulfed in a global war against fascism that has cost many millions of lives. It is my belief that we will emerge from this war a stronger, more united nation than when we entered. The crucible of war, as horrible as it is, has yet to be beat when it comes to bonding people together.” Forrestal paused and looked uncertainly over the audience, unsure how to proceed. The audience however mistook Forrestal’s pause for a cue and someone began to chant.
“United! United!” This eventually morphed into a general chant of ‘USA!’ that was pervasive enough that Kerr had to take the stage and restore order.
“I thank you for your enthusiasm,” Forrestal smiled a little more easily this time, “and encourage you to nominate me for Vice President of a more United States. Thank you, and God bless you all.” Forrestal made it off stage and then slumped against the wall, taking deep breaths, his entire body trembling. The whole experience had been uniquely terrifying, yet somehow he had done well. The applause he could hear tapering off was proof enough of that.
For the rest of the time between ballots the convention hall was abuzz with talk of James Forrestal.
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1944 Democratic National Convention: 3rd Vice Presidential Ballot
Navy Secretary James Forrestal of Maryland - 509
Vice President Henry Wallace of Iowa - 483
Senator Scott Lucas of Illinois - 50
Senator John Bankhead of Alabama - 40
Governor Prentice Cooper of Tennessee - 26
Governor J. Melville Broughton of North Carolina - 21
Senator Alben Barkley of Kentucky - 21
Senator Harry Truman of Missouri - 20
Scattering - 6
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When Forrestal took the lead Wallace knew that it was over. But even then he was reluctant to call it quits. Part of him insisted that if he rallied hard enough he’d be able to overcome Forrestal’s momentum…yet the rest knew deep down that it was a lost cause. The party had more or less united against him.
“I wont withdraw,” he said to a group of supporters between ballots, “but neither will I let Forrestal have a unanimous victory on the fourth ballot. I want this to be close.”
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1944 Democratic National Convention: 4th Vice Presidential Ballot
Navy Secretary James Forrestal of Maryland - 599
Vice President Henry Wallace of Iowa - 480
Governor Prentice Cooper of Tennessee - 26
Senator Scott Lucas of Illinois - 26
Senator John Bankhead of Alabama - 11
Governor J. Melville Broughton of North Carolina - 10
Senator Alben Barkley of Kentucky - 9
Senator Harry Truman of Missouri - 9
Scattering - 6
_______
Henry Wallace had gotten his wish, but the end result was still the same. James Forrestal, after four contentious ballots, had been nominated.
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Somewhere in the back rooms, listening intently to a man on the telephone, Senator Bankhead’s eyes went wide.
“Wait a minute…” He said, voice colored with disbelief, “are you telling me that we just nominated a Catholic?!”