All language subtitles for Eleanor.and.Franklin.The.White.House.Years.1977.DVDRip.x264-HANDJOB_track3_[eng]

Oh, look.
Heather and Narcissus.

Eleanor.

I'm marrying a flower thief.

No one saw.

There, that's a sure sign that spring
is just around the corner.

Everything wonderful is just
around the corner for us.

I love you so.

And will?

And will for
a very long time.

Boy dearest,
that's not good enough.

Don't you remember the poem
I copied out and sent you?

Mrs. Browning?

The very last part?

- "Unless...
- "Unless...

you can swear

'For life, for death! '...

Oh, fear
to call it loving!"

Franklin.

Miss Eleanor Roosevelt,
Mr. Franklin Roosevelt.

Miss Eleanor.

- Mr. Roosevelt.
- Mr. Hoover.

Would you like to
leave your coats here?

I'll just check your names
off the guest list.

Mrs. Roosevelt's already
gone into the dining room

with some of
the family.

We're not late?

No, no, the president
hasn't come down yet.

Who says he hasn't?

Mr. President.

- Isn't the elevator working?
- Yes.

So are my legs.
What of it?

Ha!
My favorite niece.

Hello, Uncle Ted.

- Cousin.
- Mr. President.

Thank you, Ike.
I'll look after these children.

By Godfrey, don't we all
look swell in our finery?

Ha! I never have grown up
in that respect.

I still love dressing up,
no matter what the costume.

Ah, we'll join
the others in a minute.

Oh, it's bully to have so much family
on hand for this inauguration.

That first time
I took the oath,

it all seemed as haphazard
as it was sudden.

Now tonight,
after dinner,

you Aunt Edith and I
will lead the dancing in here.

Oh, it's going
to look fine.

Ha!

This is the room where
the president dances.

And if he's careless enough
to die in office,

this is where
they lay him out.

It looks grand.

The whole house looks just grand
since you did it over.

And Uncle Ted, it's officially
the White House now, is it,

instead of
the Executive Mansion?

Yes, we've had all
the stationary changed.

It's what the people outside
have always called it anyway.

Now listen you two.
Remind me.

What day am I due in
New York for your wedding?

- The 17th.
- Two weeks.

- Two weeks from yesterday.
- Ah, yes.

I've got the St. Patrick's Day
Parade first.

And then I'm to go
straight on to you.

We're awfully grateful
you could find the time.

This is an occasion,

you two coming to the White House
together for the first time.

Now, once you're
Mr. And Mrs.,

we're going to expect to
see a lot of you around here.

Oh, we'll be back.
Never fear.

Will you listen to
this Young Turk?

I don't know if that means he plans
a more or less permanent occupancy

of one of the guest rooms,
or that he has his eye on mine.

I, Theodore Roosevelt,

do solemnly swear that
I will faithfully execute

- the office of President...
- I, Franklin Delano Roosevelt,

do solemnly swear that I will
faithfully execute the office

of President of
the United States

and will, to the best
of my ability,

preserve, protect,
and defend

the Constitution of
the United States.

So help you, God.

So help me, God.

This great nation will endure...

as it has endured;

will revive,
and will prosper.

So first of all, let me
assert my firm belief

that the only thing
we have to fear

is fear itself.

Nameless, unreasoning,
unjustified terror,

which paralyzes needed efforts
to convert retreat into advance.

Even as the new president
took the oath of office,

new unemployment
figures revealed

no increase in the
availability of jobs.

The first task of
Franklin D. Roosevelt

will be, in his own words,

"to put people to work."

An impoverished nation
looks to the future with hope.

Don't look at me, look at them.

Remember what I told you.
That's my stride.

Keep your head up.
Smile.

Look people right in the eye.
Keep them from noticing what we're doing.

Two things to
remember, kid:

You never catch him moving,
only standing still;

and never in a wheelchair,
except from the waist up.

Good afternoon, gentlemen.
Nice day.

Well, it started out
kind of gray,

but it sure has brightened
up, Mr. President.

Oh, we take that as
a favorable omen.

The sun shines
on the New Deal.

Can we have you like that
for just a minute, Mr. President?

Like this?

That's perfect.
Hold it.

- What about the First Lady?
- She's camera shy.

Hates having
her picture taken.

Mrs. Roosevelt,
would you mind?

Come on, darling.
It's for the history books.

Ah, that's...
that's beautiful.

Beautiful. Now if you can
hold that for just a minute longer.

As long as you like.
We're not going anywhere.

Ha!
We're home.

Ghosts?

Inevitably, I suppose.

How little the place
has changed since he was here.

You realize the usher is the same one
who received us 28 years ago?

He's top dog now.

Ike Hoover. He called me Miss Eleanor,
exactly as he did then.

You know what he said
to me just now?

"It's good to have a Roosevelt
in the White House again."

I said, "Uh-oh, if
that's my cue to say,

'lt's good to still have
a Hoover on the place,'

I'm afraid
I'll have to pass."

He swears
they're not related,

so I expect we'll
let him stay.

I just want to see how
they're getting on down here.

My first order of business
is a little pep talk to the Cabinet

before the swearing in.
What's yours?

I'm going up to my room
for a few minutes,

and then I'll
see what's being done

in the way of tea and little
sandwiches for the reception.

- How many expected?
- Multitudes.

Multitudes?
That's a lot.

And 75 for dinner.

"Where the president
dances."

And what was the other?

I don't remember.

Oh, of course.
Lies in state.

Hmm.

I won't so much mind
not being able to do the one,

if it means I'm excused
from doing the other.

So this is where
you are, you bad boy.

When you didn't come straight upstairs,
I thought, "Good grief.

Maybe he's caught between floors
in that awful little elevator."

Jim Farley and most of the others
are already assembled.

Miss Perkins and Mr. Hull
are just arriving.

I knew you'd want to
be settled in your study

and have them all
come in together.

I mean, I assumed
that's what you'd want.

You assumed correctly,
as always, my dear Missy.

Lead on,
"O Ship of State."

You are the Ship
of State, Sire.

I'm just
a little tugboat.

Such modesty!

Tell me this,
Tugboat Annie...

Did anyone of
your many admirers

ever tell you he liked
the cut of your jib?

It's a pretty fresh remark,
wouldn't you say?

No, it's a perfectly
orthodox naval expression.

Witness is directed to
answer the question.

Sorry, your honor.
If anyone ever did,

it'll just have to remain a secret
between him and me.

How jolly.
I love secrets.

I'm very good at keeping secrets.
Did you know that?

Beloved and revered
First Lady.

Louis!

First Lady of the land.

- Do you believe it?
- No.

It's unreal,
isn't it?

I figured it out
in the car just now.

It's 21 years since
I first addressed him

as "beloved and revered
future president."

That big uppity Dutchman
from Duchess County.

Who'd have thunk it?

I mean, who'd have
believed way back then

that we'd really
pull it off?

Good afternoon.

The Cabinet all
get here?

Yes, according to Missy.
They're in the study.

Check.
I'll see you later.

Oh, by the way,

I just remembered
something.

What?

I've never been
up here before.

Which one is it?

Straight ahead.

Ah, Colonel Howe has
arrived at last.

- Colonel?
- Your Excellency.

Eleanor?
Is anybody here?

Who is it?

Ah.

- Oh, Mama.
- Well.

Thank heavens. I've been
looking all over the place

and I haven't been able
to rouse one familiar soul.

It's like a great drafty
old commercial hotel, isn't it?

Complete even to the house
detective in the hall.

He's a Secret Service man.

Franklin has shut himself up
in his study with a lot of strangers.

I know he's far too busy
for his tedious old mother,

but has he spent any time
with the children in the past few days?

Not much, I'm afraid.

Is he aware that Elliott and Betty
are on the verge of separating?

And that Anna and Curtis
may not be long to follow?

I think he senses that
things are not quite right.

Has he ever discussed the
matter with Anna or Elliott?

No, of course not.

Why "of course not"?

You know your son,
Mama.

Very difficult for him
to discuss personal things.

It always has been.

That's meant as a reproach
to me, I suppose.

Not at all.

Oh, don't think I'm not
aware of what people think.

Naturally, he had to learn to keep
his innermost feelings to himself.

He's secret and deep...
even when he was little,

because he had such a bossy,
interfering mama.

Is this really where
you're expected to sleep?

Why not? Abraham Lincoln
slept here.

Not in that bed,
I dare say.

No. It is a bit short,
even for me.

When I find another, I think
I'll put it in the dressing room.

And I can use this
as my sitting room.

I could have my desk
over here.

Mmm. Some new curtains
and a decent carpet

will make a world
of difference.

Know what I'm
reminded of?

The time you and Franklin
first moved to Washington,

20 years ago, and I came
to see you settled in.

- Do you remember?
- Oh, yes.

Coming back to this city must have
all sorts of associations for you?

Yes, a good many.

Not all of them pleasant.

No, not all.

You must put it
out of your mind.

It's all dead and
buried in the past.

If my instinct is correct,
and it usually is,

Franklin has completely
forgotten her.

With Franklin, it would be
hard to know, wouldn't it?

I'm going to my bed,
such as it is.

I'll never get through
the evening without a nap.

Is the inevitable Missy LeHand
in there with the others?

Of course.
She's his secretary.

You're only his wife,
just as I'm only his mother.

Pity neither of us is
an advisor or an employee.

It would give us so much more
legitimate a claim on his time.

You don't begrudge her the fact
that she's with him more than you are?

Missy?
Certainly not.

You don't think it ought
to be you by his side?

Not every waking minute
of ever day, no.

And that's what
Franklin needs.

Someone to be on call
at a moment's notice,

all day long.

How could I possibly
begrudge her anything?

Even if you did,
of course,

even if you were jealous
as sin, you'd never let on.

In your own quiet way,

you're ever bit as secret
and deep as he is.

What time is dinner,
by the way?

7:30.

We've arranged it, as we
did in Albany,

so that Franklin will always
be seated at the table

before the guests arrive
in the dining room.

Afterward,
he'll go back to work

and the rest of us will go on
to the inaugural ball.

That's when I shall go
definitively to my bed.

I do hope you'll all be quiet
and not wake me coming in.

About time you came
crawling in, you night owl.

Have you any idea
of the hour?

I know. It was a question of finding
the right moment for a graceful departure.

I thought you'd
be in bed.

Ah, no such luck.

The night's final conference didn't
break up until about 10 minutes ago.

Did the children
get back all right?

I lost track
of them earlier.

What on earth?

They brought a few friends
and part of a rumba band with them.

Jimmy phoned to ask if it
was all right, and I said "yes."

I was just about to look
in and say goodnight.

Your mother's sleeping
directly overhead.

Don't worry.
If she could hear them,

there'd have been a loud
thumping up there by this time.

- Hey, look who's here.
- Oh, Mother.

- How you doing, Boss?
- Grand, Jimmy, perfectly grand.

When I spoke of a good neighbor
policy this afternoon,

I had no idea we'd see it
implemented so quickly

or so close to home.

I suppose you all know
it's after 1:00.

How long is this
going to go on?

- Weeks.
- Years and years.

I hope not.

We all have to be at
St. Thomas' bright and early.

Mother!

Come on, Babs, I can remember
a certain Saturday night

when you and I danced
on and on,

without any thought as to
how bright we'd be for church.

Anna, don't your Latin friends know
any other sort of music?

What about a waltz
just for variety?

Oh Pa, nobody does
the waltz anymore.

Really? Time was when it was
practically all they did.

That orchestra doesn't seem
to know anything but waltzes.

- Good night.
- Good night.

Mmm.

Babs?

Is it all right?

I'm just spending a quiet
moment with the stamps,

trying to unwind.

- Shall I leave you to it?
- No, no, come in.

I'm always glad when we can catch
a few minutes to ourselves.

They are rare.

I expect they'll
be getting rarer now.

Well, the next few days...

the next few weeks...
are bound to be pretty hectic.

So much to be done.

14 million unemployed,
by latest count.

20 million on
the public doles.

And that many more unable
to make a decent living.

Do you know what I was thinking
just before you came in?

I thought, I'm sitting
here in this bed,

where Herbert Hoover
sat last night,

and I'm wondering just how seriously
he took the possibility

of a second
American Revolution.

Could that
really happen?

Anything could happen

with the country in
the awful mess it's in.

At dinner tonight,
Cousin Alice said,

"No inauguration has seen
it so near collapse

since the day Lincoln
took the oath."

She said if I fail, I'll be the last
Democratic President of the United States.

I said, "Alice,
if I fail,

I'll be the last President
of the United States, period."

It is a fearful
responsibility.

I wonder what I can do.

Well, with multitudes coming
to tea several times a week,

all those receptions and
state dinners,

looks to me as if you have
your work cut out for you.

But just planning menus
and standing in a line

shaking hands,
making small talk...

All very necessary.

But not very inspiring,
is it?

I only wish I had
a real job to do,

something that might
keep us in close touch.

Such as?

Well one thing did...
did occur to me.

You're going to be getting
a much larger amount of mail

than you ever did
as governor.

I wondered if I mightn't
take some of it over for you.

And what about Missy?

Missy has so many
things to do.

Yes, and one of them is
dealing with my mail.

How do you suppose she'd feel if you
suddenly exercised a wife's prerogative

and walked off with
a major part of her duties?

I never thought of it as exercising
a wife's prerogative.

Well, think about it
and tell me if I'm not right,

if it doesn't smack
of pulling rank.

You're right,
of course.

Don't go away mad.

Oh, don't be silly.
I'm not mad.

Don't be Griselda.

Griselda?

You know what I mean.

You've said it yourself.

"Poor Griselda,
suffering in silence.

Feeling like a martyr,
and acting like one."

But I've outgrown that.
I mean, good heavens,

- I hope I have.
- Good night, darling.

- Good night.
- See you in church.

Yes.

My friends, I want to talk
for a few minutes

with the people of
the United States about banking.

To the comparative few who understand
the mechanics of banking,

but more particularly
with the majority of you

who use banks for
the making of deposits

and the writing
of checks.

I want to tell you what has
been done in the last few days

and why it was done, and what
the next steps are going to be.

I do not promise you that
every bank will be reopened,

or that individual losses
will not be suffered.

But, there will be no losses
that possibly could have been avoided.

I can even promise
you salvation

for some, at least, of
the sorely pressed banks.

Ah, wait a minute.

I wish you'd stop being mysterious.
We're miles from nowhere.

Take a right.

You were all right
until you lit that.

You hadn't coughed
for hours.

When will you learn?

Look for a sign
up ahead.

Fort Hunt?

Isn't that where the
Bonus Marchers are camped?

6,000 of them.

- 6,000?
- Six.

The Veterans Administration
has put them up in tents

without running water,
with trench latrines.

Even so, they're a hell
of a lot better off than last year,

when they turned up
over 10,000 strong,

and that kind-hearted
little Quaker, Herbert Hoover,

sicced the army on them.
Can you believe it?

The same army they served in,
burning their camp, shooting at them.

Surely something can be
done for them?

We're thinking about enlisting
as many of them as want to join

in the CCC.

We could put them to work
building dams, planting trees,

and fighting forest fires.

And if they'd
agree to it,

we could turn Fort Hunt
into a training camp for them.

The idea hasn't been
put to them yet.

I want you to be aware
of that when you meet them.

When I meet them?

You can pull up
right over here.

Ah, right under that
tree is all right.

Perfecto.

Louis?

I'm gonna catch
a little snooze.

All this driving around is
bad for a semi-invalid.

There's nobody here.

Oh, they're here.

Most of them are out
in the field doing calisthenics.

But the leaders,
the real hotheads,

are always in
the mess hall at this hour,

shouting and
snarling and...

And I'm to simply walk in,
big as life,

and say, "Hello,
I'm Mrs. Roosevelt."

Well, why not?
It's your name.

They'll eat me alive.

No, no. They're not allowed
snacks between meals.

Dreadful man.

...beginning to look like
the same old runaround!

All we ever got from Herbert Hoover
was a kick in the butt!

Yeah!

And now, I'm beginning
to wonder if FDR's any better,

after all those
perfectly grand

campaign promises
he made!

You got to ask yourself if maybe
the newspapers were right,

that said he was nothing
but a feather duster!

A political
corkscrew!

Yeah!

A Boy Scout covering up
his shallowness

with a big
India Rubber smile

full of unproductive
optimism.

Just another way of saying
more baloney!

Oh.

I've lost my shade.

Thanks for coming,
Mrs. Roosevelt.

Goodbye, ma'am.

- It's an honor, Mrs. Roosevelt.
- Hello. Thank you.

- Bye, ma'am.
- Goodbye!

- Goodbye!
- Goodbye.

Well?

Eleanor?

Yes?

What happened?

Oh, it was
quite nice, really.

They gave me tea and
I told them about the work

I did for the Red Cross
after the war.

And about the battlefields
I visited afterwards.

And, they seemed
very interested.

Yes, but what about
the...?

What about what?

Oh, oh yes, and then we sang
some of the old war songs.

Dreadful woman.

Oh I see. You mean,
what about your idea?

Yes, yes.

My impression is that
a considerable number of them

will accept your proposal
to train here for the CCC,

and that quite a few
of the rest of them

will enlist in
their own hometowns

after they've dispersed
peaceful and left Washington.

Louis!
Ah!

I want you to tell me
everything you saw

and everything they said.

Everything
you remember.

Well, one man,
an ex-sergeant,

Sgt. Lee Goodwin
of Elizabeth, New Jersey,

said something I think
he meant as a compliment.

At least I hope so.

He said, "Hoover sent the army.
Roosevelt sent his wife."

Ha, ha!

Ah, I love it.

I want you to put it all
down on paper.

I want you to tell everything
you saw in detail.

Find out what people
are saying, what they think,

what they feel.
Watch their faces.

And if anyone asks you
why you've come,

you say, "Because
my husband asked me to."

You say, "I've come
because he can't."

What's wrong?

With me?
Nothing.

What's wrong with you?

- Something wrong?
- It's an epidemic.

The way the buzzers
are all ringing out there...

Everything's perfectly grand.
Last appointment of the day concluded,

and yet, here it is,
only half past 6:00.

Unheard of.

Here sits a president
with nothing to do.

Hasn't anyone something
for me to do?

I believe Louis has
something scheduled,

if you don't want
to answer any mail now.

No, no, leave it
till tomorrow.

What boring order of business does
the colonel wish to plague me with?

- I heard that.
- I intended you to.

You'll sing another tune when
you see what I've brought you,

you ingrate.

Great Jumping
Jehosophat!

Ah, Mr. President,

with all due respect, would you
kindly move your ass?

Oh!

You really are surprised.

You forgot
what day it is.

By George if I didn't.

I thought about it this morning,
but then it slipped my mind.

My friends, we are
about to enjoy

the first legal Martini to be
served in the White House

for over 13 years.

Let's hope I
remember the proportions.

Otherwise, for "legal,"
read "lethal."

Ah, sweet music.

Historians will no doubt
make much of the first 100 days

- of your administration...
- Thank you.

The special session
of Congress.

The fantastic amount of
legislation accomplished

to heal the nation's wounds.

They'll say, "On March 16th
came the Agriculture Bill."

Or, "On March 21st,
he launched the CCC,

and asked for federal grants
for unemployment relief."

Others will recall that
on such-and-such a day,

the National Recovery Act
went into effect.

And how, through it all,

FDR's smile
and his vitality

lifted the spirits
of millions.

Hear, hear!

Bravo.

But...

for the man
on the street,

the forgotten man,

the little man,

- little me...
- Oh.

The date that
will live in history,

the one for which the name
of Roosevelt will forever be revered,

is December 5th, 1933,

when ever decent,
red-blooded American

was once again able
to take a sip of gin

without wondering

what faintly
unsanitary bathtub

it had been brewed in.

Hear, hear.

Never mind all that.

Just be thankful it happened
at a time when the missus is out of town,

or she'd be after us with
a hatchet, like Carrie Nation.

What shall we drink to?

Why, to the drink.

The first.

The first of many,
God willing.

All right,
a tradition is born.

Between the dark
and the daylight,

when the night is
beginning to lour,

comes a pause in
the day's occupations,

that is known as
the Children's Hour.

Children.

- Is it all right?
- Oh, it's lovely.

Good.

And now, Father would like
someone to tell him

what's playing at the movies
tonight after dinner.

In Berlin, Germany,

troops parade in review before
the recently elected chancellor,

Adolf Hitler.

Foreign observers were surprised
that 92% of the German electorate

voted for candidates of
the National Socialist Party,

thereby giving the
party leader, Hitler,

an overwhelming victory.

Sieg heil!

Boo, hiss!

Quiet in the cheap seats, please.

My God, if that's the Third Reich,

give me the New Deal every time.

Oh, look!

November 7th,
Reedsville, West Virginia.

A dream becomes a reality
as Mrs. Roosevelt

welcomes the first contingent
of miners and their families

to arrive at the site of the
abandoned 1200-acre estate

where the government is launching
its Homestead Program.

- Good girl!
- To be known in the future as Arthurdale,

- Oh, good girl.
- The resettlement project is already known...

- Hold it, gorgeous.
- Mrs. Roosevelt's baby.

Here, along with
Harry Hopkins,

former social worker,
and presently head

of the Federal Emergency
Relief Administration,

she is seen outside
the estate's original mansion,

where the new arrivals, grim memories
of cold camp shacks behind them...

All line up and do-see-do.
Swing your partners and away we go!

Will you look at that?
That's my missus.

I love it,
I love it!

Lest the newcomers feel uneasy
in the estranged surroundings,

Mrs. Roosevelt invites them
to a dance on their first night.

But it is the miners who provide
the music and call the tune.

And it is the First Lady's turn
to experience something new.

Those things will kill you.
You know that.

Why don't you stop?

Oh, you don't indulge,
of course.

I don't have asthma,
and 17 other respiratory complaints.

I'm trying
to cut down.

Oh, spinach!

I'm sorry, but I have really no patience
with you on this subject, Louis.

If you won't slow down, if you won't
take better care for your own sake,

you might at least consider
the people around you.

What I've got
is not contagious.

Who care for you.

And would be sorry
to lose you.

Thanks, Boss.

March, 1934.

On her tour of
Caribbean islands,

Mrs. Roosevelt pays
a visit

to the picturesque city
of San Juan, Puerto Rico.

Her purpose: To inspect some
not-so-picturesque slums,

and, as she says, draw attention
to conditions of poverty,

injustice, and neglect.

Local social workers
move quickly

to keep up with
the indefatigable First Lady

who, it is estimated, has traveled
more than 40,000 miles

during the first year of
her husband's administration.

The White House.

Speaking before
our news camera,

President Roosevelt shares highlights
of his message to the Congress

dated January 17th, 1935.

At this time, I recommend
the following types of legislation,

looking to economic
security:

One: Unemployment
compensation.

Two: Old age benefits.

Three: Federal aid to
dependent children,

support of existing mothers
pension systems,

and care of neglected,

homeless, and
crippled children.

Thank you, Martin.

Good morning.

- Good morning.
- Good morning, ma'am.

- Welcome home.
- Thank you.

- Is the President up?
- Yes, ma'am. He's shaving.

I would like to have
just a minute with him

before he gets caught up
in the day's business.

Certainly, ma'am.

Yes, McDuffy,
it's all right.

Hello.

Babs, you're back!

- Am I disturbing you?
- No no.

Come in, come in.
Sit down, talk to me.

So, she's back.
My will-o'-the-wisp wife.

Loaded down with conditions
and petitions, I see.

Nothing that can't wait
until later.

Do you mind?
I do want to hear

but I've got a press conference
in a few minutes.

Careful.

Not to cut my throat,
you mean.

Finish what
the Supreme Court started.

I read about it in the train.
It's a shock.

Stunned me,
I can tell you.

The biggest jolt was the fact
that it was unanimous.

We all assumed that
at least Brandeis and Cardozo

were on the side
of progress.

We thought we were making such
strides with the Recovery Act.

And then to have them
throw it back into our faces.

Damn them for it!

Blithering old fools!

Have you been in
to see Louis?

Not yet. I wasn't
sure he'd be awake.

Don't put it off.

He's missed you more this trip
than any other, I think.

He doesn't say
anything, of course.

Just except in
a roundabout way.

When I looked in
on him last night,

he had the evening
paper in bed with him,

and I did what I always do,
I said, "What's the headline?"

And without even looking up, he said,
"First Lady spends night in White House."

Is he any better?

Somewhat worse, I'm afraid.

Then I want you to
get hold of Harold Ickes,

and tell him I expect him
to be here sometime tomorrow,

with all the latest dope on
the Public Works Administration.

Have you got that?

Yes, yes... Come in!

And you've got my
memo to Hopkins?

What else?

Oh, now listen,
Rabbit.

I want you to make inquiries,
discreet inquiries,

my angel, about where I might be able
to place a few modest bets

at Hialeah and
possibly Agua Caliente.

Call me back as soon
as you've got a number.

Bye.

Can you believe it?
All the thugs

and hoodlums and perverts
running around loose,

I mean, just in the lobby
of Congress alone,

and the district police
have nothing better to do

than arrest my bookie.

I asked you to bring me something,
I forget what. Did you bring it?

Just the Kipling,
and the new Wodehouse.

I couldn't find
"Treasure Island."

Well, that'll do me
till tomorrow.

If you can keep your head
when all about you are losing theirs

and blaming it on you.

You know, there are days when I think
mine is the only voice of sanity

in this whole setup
for the new campaign.

Hello, Louis.

Hello.

What sort of
an answer is that?

Didn't I say hello
when you came in?

- No.
- I'm sure I did.

Have a chair.

Excuse the
exotic position.

I seem to breathe better
with my downside up.

How are you feeling?

Never better.

By the time I move my staff up
to party headquarters in New York,

I expect to be back

in the same old
fighting form as always.

How is His Nibs?

Oh, you know,
the same.

He never tires
of the job.

Whichever way it goes,
good or bad,

he seems
to thrive on it.

You know.

Do I?
I begin to wonder.

He hasn't been to see me
in almost two weeks.

I'm sorry.

What the hell's the matter
with the man?

I don't have to
explain him to you.

No.

No, that you don't.

You're the closest friend
he's ever had.

Franklin doesn't
have friends.

He has admirers and
advisors.

Cronies, companions.

But no friends.

Are you his friend?

I want to be.
I tried.

I'm not his confidante,
I know that.

I don't believe
he confides in anyone.

He keeps himself to himself,
as the British say.

Then he doesn't even
have a wife.

Not really.

Just a missus.

It's hard to realize

you can't meet the need
of someone you care terribly for.

It's even harder

learning to accept what
others can't give you.

I remember one night,
years ago,

we sat in the
living room at Hyde Park,

talking to Mama.

She spoke straight
to the point.

She said,

"Do you still
love Eleanor?"

And he said, "Yes."

She said, "But you're in love
with Lucy Mercer?"

And he said, "Yes."

I knew if I stayed in
that room another instant

I should be sick all over
Mama's expensive carpet.

I kept thinking,
"All right,

all right, you're
not in love with me.

Well, I'm not in love
with you, either.

And I never will be
from this moment on.

If we stay together,

for whatever reason,

the children,
your career,

even if we spend the rest
of our lives together,

it can never
be as it was.

We can never
be lovers again."

I've never told
anyone about this.

Ever.

Why am I
telling you now?

Because I'm dying.

No.

There's nobody quite as
trustworthy as a dying man.

His chances of
betraying a confidence

are comparatively limited.

Louis, Louis, be still.
It's not true.

T's true, all right.

I should be lost
without you.

Don't go mushy
on me now.

Remember what your
grandmother used to say:

"Crying upsets people.
If you have to do it..."

"Go in the bathroom and
turn on all the taps."

That would be inconvenient here.

The head is down the hall.

I tell you what:

You can bang on this
with a stick to create a diversion.

Oh, Louis, don't.

Don't lend you
my bedpan?

Don't die.

Unto Almighty God we commend
the soul of our brother departed,

and we commit
his body to the ground.

Earth to earth,
ashes to ashes,

dust to dust.

Amen.

I, Franklin
Delano Roosevelt,

do solemnly swear that
I will faithfully execute

the office of President
of the United States

and will, to the best
of my ability,

preserve, protect,
and defend

the Constitution
of the United States...

So help you, God.

So help me, God.

Did you hear him?

It was like
a personal warning.

"You may be president, sonny, but I'm
Chief Justice of the Supreme Court,

and if you know what's good for you,
you'll preserve..."

Did you notice the way
he punched those words?

"Preserve, protect,
and defend the Constitution"?

Oh, I wanted to come
back at him for that.

Yes, it's the Constitution, but it's
the Constitution as I understand it...

flexible enough to meet
any new problem.

Franklin...

Not the kind your court has
raised up as a barrier

to progress and democracy.

Dearest, you're making a speech.
You've just finished quite a long one.

Mmm.

Hello, boys. Don't
you look nice and soggy?

Seems as if your weather
angel has deserted you, sir.

Is this a bad omen for
the next four years?

Not at all,
not at all.

As an old tree farmer
from upstate New York,

I figure a little rain
this time of year

means a stronger
growth in the spring.

In other words, the honeymoon's
not over for the New Deal.

Ha! We all know what paper
he's been reading, don't we?

Mr. President?

There was an editorial
this morning that said

if the Court and the Congress
gave you your head,

you'd be every bit as
much of a fascist dictator

as Hitler or Mussolini.

This isn't a press
conference, is it?

- No, sir.
- I didn't think so.

If it were, I wouldn't care to dignify
that charge with an answer.

Once you're out
of this rain,

and dry behind
the ears,

you may remember that
I've also been called

a Communist, a Capitalist,
and a Socialist.

- Are you a Communist?
- Hey, Jerry!

No.

Are you a Capitalist?

No.

- Are you a Socialist?
- No.

Then, what is
your philosophy?

Philosophy?

I'm a Christian and
a Democrat. That's all.

- But sir?
- That's all.

You stupid jerk. He doesn't need
to hear what his enemies think

on his inauguration day.

- Here we are again.
- Yes.

A little more enthusiasm
in that yes, please.

Aren't you aware that our
return is the direct result

of a conspiracy
between the two of us?

According to whom?

According to a rather nasty little rhyme
that was going around before the election.

It's meant to be me
talking to you.

Go on.

No, it's not very nice.

Since you've
started it.

All right.

"You kiss the niggers
and I'll kiss the Jews

and we'll stay in the White House
as long as we choose."

Well?

Well, what?

It doesn't bother you?

Not really.

It bothers me.

It's the sort of thing
that makes me wonder sometimes

if civilization has made any progress
at all in this country

in the past 160 years.

I was much more offended
by the joke that went,

"I call my dog Eleanor,

because she's ugly,
because she has buck teeth,

and because I can never
get her to stay home."

I hadn't heard that one.

When you think of the way
we were brought up...

I mean the fact that we inherited
all the prejudices of our so-called class...

it's quite a compliment to
be accused of kissing people

were taught to think
of as our inferiors.

Surely it's much more
civilized to kiss someone

than to hurt him.

That's progress, isn't it?

Anyone on duty?

Never mind,
I'll take you up.

Oh, you devil.

Shall we begin
today's column

while we're waiting
for the eggs?

My day, yesterday,

was an unusually
full one.

It began...

with a visit from a
delegation of sharecroppers,

who are accustomed
to begin their labors

- close to sunrise.
- Vroom-vroom-vroom.

Good morning, Buzz.

I'm not Buzz.
I'm Barney Oldfield

in my super
Deusenberg V8.

Oh, dear.

I beg your pardon.

Tell me, Mr. Oldfield,

- is your mother up yet?
- Yes.

Why don't you ask her if she'd
like to have breakfast in here

with Miss Thompson
and me?

She's already having
breakfast with Grandpa.

- Oh?
- Vroom-vroom, vroom-vroom!

Curious.

He always
breakfasts alone.

It's his time to be by himself
and pore over the morning papers.

Perhaps because
she's leaving today.

Yes, I suppose.

In any case,

it might give me
a chance to remind him

about the medical care
program.

It's worth a try. Otherwise,
I won't see him till dinnertime,

if then.
Wish me luck.

Ha!
I remember.

That was the year Bunny
was Jack Horner

and got to open the pie
full of little toys.

My 13th birthday.

One of Granny's gifts was
a beautiful lamp for my bedroom.

- You remember?
- Mmm.

Brud was all of five years old
and such a little conniver.

He sat right down and
wrote Granny a letter.

"I love you very much.
I want to kiss you.

Please give me a light like Anna's,
and a firecracker."

A firecracker!
Yes, yes.

It was only May but he was already
laying plans for the Fourth of July.

Oh, yes.

Who's that?

Is this a private party
or can anyone join in?

Anna and I were just
hashing over old times.

If I'm interrupting...

Ah, as a matter
of fact...

I thought I might give you this
while you're in a receptive mood.

While I'm flat on my back,
you mean. Defenseless.

Why don't you just
drop it in the basket?

I will, if you
promise to read it

and not just skim through.
It's awfully important.

You're not asking me to
go over any more of your mail

about my running battle
with the Supreme Court

and how it's begun to look like
the biggest single mistake

- of my political career?
- It's not that.

What your correspondents
fail to take into account

is that I'm well into
my second administration

and still haven't got a single
appointee of my own on the bench.

Nine old men,

every one of them convinced
that retirement, like death,

is something to be put off
till the last possible moment.

In point of fact,

this is Esther Lape's report

on how to reorganize
medical care for the needy.

It's an alternative to the
compulsory health insurance

that was defeated as part
of the Social Security plan.

I'm not ready
to discuss that.

So it seems. Esther feels you've lost
interest in the whole issue.

That's nonsense.

If I've told her once,
I've told her a dozen times,

I'll give it my full attention
when she and her committee

have agreed on a clear point of view
and set it down succinctly.

There are 40-odd pages here,
excerpted from two large volumes.

I saw them. Two large volumes
of medical nitpicking.

You may have time
for that, I don't.

I haven't even read
"Gone With the Wind" yet.

- Franklin, that's not funny.
- Says you.

It's absolutely essential that
you study this and get involved.

Get some sort of action.

Drop it in
the basket, Lammy.

No. Not unless I have your promise
to look at it first chance you get.

- Babs...
- Mother, can't you see

that you're giving
Pa indigestion?

I have to go and
get the children ready.

There's only one plane
to Seattle today

and my second... and so far
darling... husband

will be very cranky
if we're not on it.

Sis, I hate to
see you go.

It's been such fun
having you here.

But much too short.

For me, too.

I'll bring Sistie and Buzz in to say
goodbye when they're dressed.

We seem to be in a continuous state
of saying goodbye to the children.

They arrive one minute,
and it's grand.

The next minute,
they're off again.

We raised them
to be independent.

Hmm.

I just wish we could keep
at least one of them around,

now and then,
for more than a few days.

Jimmy, for instance.

I don't think he's all that happy
in the insurance business, do you?

Oh? He appears
to be rather good at it.

I've been wondering what he
would say if I were to suggest

that he throw in his lot
here with me for a while.

Throw in his lot?

Yes.

Louis' death has left
quite a gap in the ranks.

Of course, I've still got
Steve Early and Bill Hassett,

Hal Watson.

But nobody that's
as close to me as Louis was.

There's certainly enough
work for another...

Another what?

Assistant.

Secretary.

Secretarial
assistant.

You're not serious.

Entirely serious.
What do you think he'd say?

- I know what I'd say.
- If you were he?

No, speaking for myself.
I'd say absolutely not.

Oh?

In fact, I'd put it
much stronger than that

and I'd say I simply
won't hear of it.

- You won't?
- No, I won't.

It's quite the worst idea you've had
in all the years I've known you.

You've made your point.
You're opposed.

Yes, I'm opposed. I should say
I'm vehemently opposed

to your doing
any such thing.

It's not
unusual for a father

to want to take his eldest
son into the family business.

But you're not
in business.

A president who hires
his own son

is open to every sort of
charge of playing favorites.

And they'll make
the son's life a hell.

He'll be accused of the same thing:
Of giving favors.

And worse,
of selling them.

Opportunists will woo him
and use him

and then make a joke of him
behind his back.

I don't see why I should be
deprived of the boy's help

or the pleasure of having him
with me just because I'm the president.

Is that the only consideration?
Your pleasure?

How very selfish. Have you given at
thought at what this would do to Jimmy?

All the criticism, the gossip,
the malice and spite?

Somebody got out of bed
on the wrong side this morning.

We'll talk about this
another time.

We'll talk about
it now.

What's the time?

I told you
five minutes ago.

Tell me again.

You have a watch.

Babs, don't be disagreeable,
for God's sake.

Not today.
I'm asking you.

27... No, 28
past 11:00.

There's no need
to be sarcastic.

I wasn't.
Only precise.

Thank you.

If it takes this long, it can't be
anything minor, can it?

I suppose it means they must have
found some sort of malignancy.

Franklin, that's only
James' fear.

Three of the best
specialists here

examined him before surgery
was recommended

and they all agreed it was
an acute form of stomach ulcer.

- Nothing more.
- Nothing more?

My God, woman,
isn't that enough for you?

If it lies in your path
to hurt me, well and good.

But why go
out of your way?

I'm sorry.

We're both on edge.

I'm sorry, too.

It's just that I can't
help thinking of...

I know.

It's in God's hands now.

We must simply...

know that he will
be all right.

You said he'd be
all right.

Just yesterday
you said it.

He did seem to rally
in the afternoon.

I honestly thought
the crisis had passed.

He's going.

He's going.
Please, anything. Something.

There's nothing.

James was sickly
too at first.

But... But he
came through.

James' heart
was stronger.

We can't let him go.

We must call him back.
Franklin?

Baby?

Baby, mother's
own angel.

Open your eyes.

Big smile for Mommy,
come on.

Come on.

Big smile for Mommy.

Show Mommy
you can hear her.

He's gone.

In the morning.
What time is it?

7:45.

His age was seven months.

Seven months
and 14 days.

No, not quite 14.
He won't have today.

Christ said, "Suffer the little
children to come unto me."

Yes.

But oh, I should have
liked to keep him.

You'll have another
little boy.

- You'll call him Franklin.
- Mama.

Babs.

No, don't.
I'm all right.

He weighed 11 pounds
when he was born.

Such a lovely big baby.

The biggest and loveliest
of them all.

Where are you going?
Shall I come with you?

No, thank you.
Really, I'm all right.

Of course you are.
I know that.

But you have been
up all night.

- You sleep now.
- No, no, I couldn't.

Then wash your face and hands
and we'll have some breakfast.

Life goes on.

Remember, you have two others
who'll be getting up soon

and wanting their mother.

Must be very brave and
very strong for their sake.

Yes, Mama.

I am tickled pink to
be able to tell you

that our boy
is out of danger.

I want to thank you all

for what I can best describe
as an understanding heart

on the part of
the people of Rochester.

Indeed, of all
Minnesota.

You've understood that I came here
not as president, but as a father,

and have treated me
accordingly.

On behalf of my wife
and myself,

I would like to thank you
for all your kindness.

Anything to say
to the press, Mr. President?

Ah, not on
this occasion, no.

- What paper?
- Rochester Star.

Oh, I didn't see you this morning.
What was your headline?

"Chamberlain Back From Munich,
Predicts Peace in Our Time."

Well, looks as if we've all got
something to be grateful for.

If we can believe it.

"Dear Mrs Stuyvesant,

In regard to my decision
to resign my membership

in the Daughters of
the American Revolution

due to their decision

that no Negro artist can
be permitted to appear

in Constitution Hall,

I would say to you
that I have always tried

to work actively within
any organization

to which I belong...

to build from
the inside.

But in this case,

I belonged to an
organization

in which I
could do no active work.

They had taken an action

which had been widely
talked of in the press.

To remain a member

implied approval
of that action.

Therefore, I resigned."

Just sign it "Sincerely."
No, "Yours."

Her tone is really
very patronizing.

It's almost time,
isn't it?

Almost.

I'll put the radio on,
shall I?

It's so slow
warming up.

Yes, do.

Oh, Thommy, wait.
Let's open the windows instead.

Do you think we'll be able
to hear her from here?

Why not? There'll be
amplifiers, loudspeakers.

Harold Ickes said they expect the crowd
will stretch all the way up the Mall

to the
Washington Monument.

That's almost as far
from her as we are.

How I wish I could
be there.

Oh, you should
have gone.

No. I was advised that
politically speaking,

it was the better part
of valor to stay away.

It seems the party's already suffered losses
in the South because of me.

Because you refused to sit
in the white section

of that segregated
auditorium in Birmingham.

Yes.

And anyway,
it's not my day.

It's her day.

Listen.

How splendid of her
to begin with that.

Not for the irony,
not just for that.

For the pride.

The pride and common sense to say,
"Look here, it is my country."

My country,
right or wrong.

Yes. When people like us,
who have had every benefit,

say that, it's one thing.

But when those who have had
the least and have suffered the most,

the most injustice
and the most indignity,

when they say it, when they
refuse to give up on the country,

then that's what I call
building from the inside.

Surely that's the noblest
sort of patriotism there is.

It is very late,

but I have felt that you would rather
that I speak to you now

than wait until tomorrow.

It is with a very
full heart

that I speak to you tonight.

I must confess that I do so
with some misgivings,

because I find myself,
as almost everyone does

sooner or later
in his lifetime,

in a conflict between
deep personal desire

on the one hand,

and that quiet,
invisible thing

called conscience
on the other.

Like most men
of my age,

I had made plans
for myself,

plans for a private life
of my own choice,

and for my own
satisfaction,

a life of that kind
to begin

in January, 1941.

Today, all private plans,

all private lives,

have been, in a sense,
repealed

by an overriding
public danger.

In the face of
that public danger,

all those who can
be of service to the Republic

have no choice but to offer
themselves for service,

in those capacities for
which they may be fitted.

The other day,
President Roosevelt

gave his opponent in the late
presidential election

a letter of
introduction to me.

And in it,
he wrote out a verse

in his own handwriting,

from Longfellow:

"Sail on,
O Ship of State!

Sail on, O Union,
strong and great!

Humanity
with all its fears,

with all the hopes
of future years,

is hanging
breathless on thy fate."

What is the answer
that I shall give

in your name
to this great man?

Give us the tools

and we will finish the job!

This is Mayor LaGuardia's
particular favorite.

He feels a really stylish uniform
would encourage women to join.

To join the chorus line at Radio City
Music Hall, by the look of it.

Forgive me, but I told Fiorello
on the phone this morning,

we're dealing with civilian
defense, not high fashion.

I shudder to think what something
like that would cost.

It ought to be
the simplest,

most inexpensive
work uniform.

I happened to see something in a shop
window the last time I was in New York:

Plain sort of coverall;
blue-gray, cotton,

and priced under $3.00.

As a matter of fact,
I have written down the style number.

Harry!

Excuse me a minute.
Harry?

Can't stop.
He's waiting for me.

- Did you forget about lunch?
- Lunch, when?

- Today.
- Oh golly, did we have a date?

We did.
I waited for you.

Humble apologies,
I got all wound up in this report:

Lend-Lease aid to
Britain and the Allies.

Our problems didn't stop when we finally
got the $7 billion from Congress;

they multiplied.

Perhaps we can have tea.

You've been so engrossed
lately. I've missed you.

I miss our chats.

I can't possibly today.
Give me a rain check, will you?

- Yes, of course.
- First thing next week, maybe?

Whenever you can. I want to talk to you
about the Youth Commission.

Their latest figures
are quite startling.

It seems that more than a third
of the country's unemployed

are under
24 years of age.

That really isn't
my department, is it?

No, no, but I thought you might
bring it to Franklin's attention.

With all the dangers
in the world at large,

I'm afraid he's not as
aware as he ought to be

that there's still a very
real danger here at home

of a whole generation of disillusioned,
alienated young people.

Eleanor, if you want
the issue raised,

I honestly think you
ought to do it yourself.

He's a trifle out of patience
with me at the moment.

Me and my causes...

I'm sorry, I just have too
much on my mind right now

to start fighting
your battles.

Harry, I didn't mean
that you should fight...

I can't keep him waiting.

Harry, dear boy!

Delicious!

Did he really call Mussolini an Italian
sausage in a Sam Browne belt?

A fat Italian sausage.

Ha, ha!

A man after
my own heart. Oh!

How I envy the time
you spent with him in London.

Ha... oh, by the way,

I think you may be paying our friend
Winston another visit next month.

Yes.

You'll like England
in July.

No need to sleep in your overcoat
the way you did the last time.

Although you may want to pack a pair
of long johns for Moscow.

I'm told it gets quite chilly there
at night, even in summer.

- Moscow?
- Yes, didn't I tell you?

The thing is, I have to find out
exactly what their needs are,

and how the goods
can be delivered

before I can take public
action on aid to Russia.

Boss, I consider that one hell
of a happy challenge.

We'll talk it over
thoroughly tonight.

I've got Cordell Hull
in a few minutes.

Join Missy and me
for the Children's Hour,

and you and I will have
dinner in here on a tray.

Will do.

See you later.

Any old Secretaries of State
lurking around out there?

No, but he's
on his way up.

I like that man
better every day.

Harry?
I like him, too.

Mmm. Thousands don't.

I know, he can be
awfully abrasive.

But not to us.

Not to us.

He's joining us for
a drink later.

- Is that wise?
- Oh, I'll see it's a mild one.

People think the cancer is still active
because he looks so poorly.

The truth is, the last operation
left him with some condition

that makes it hard for his system
to take nourishment

from food and drink.
Curious.

But not uncommon, apparently,
when the stomach is involved.

I didn't mean that.

I mean, Louis ill for
so long, now Harry.

They'll be saying the old boy likes
to surround himself with his own kind.

You know, handicapped.

Anybody who thinks
of you as handicapped

ought to try keeping up with you
for about four hours of any average day.

Fact is,
I hate sickness.

I hate to be around it.

I know that.

I've always known
that about you.

That's why I'm always
the picture of health.

What's the matter, child?

Nerves a bit raw today?

You could say that.

One of those days when
I wake up and think,

"No, I just can't take it.
It is too much."

And then I think,

"Good Lord, if it's
like that for me,

what must it be like
for you?"

There's your old
Secretary of State.

Marguerite?

When did you last
call me that?

What would you say to
a few quiet days on the yacht,

if we can steal
the time this summer?

Don't make any promises
you can't keep.

Apropos of which,

you are coming down
the staff party tonight?

But I thought Eleanor was
going to officiate this year?

How? By telephone
from Seattle?

Oh.

At least put in
an appearance.

You do tend to take it
for granted

that people know how grateful
you are for services rendered.

The fact is, we all need a little pat
on the head now and then.

They'll be very disappointed
if you don't show up.

I'll be down...
Boss.

Are you still ladling
that stuff?

No, that's the end of it.

Well, praise the Lord
for small favors.

Now, will you go to bed?
There's no earthly reason for you to stay.

The boss left
an hour ago.

These die-hards won't stop
till the lights go out.

Everybody said it was
the best staff party in years.

You did a terrific job
in Mrs. Howard's absence.

But what a price.

You look tireder than
I've ever seen you.

I feel like
yesterday's gardenias.

Then will you
kindly scram?

Okay.

Oh, good, another rendition
by the poor man's Andrews Sisters.

That's sure
to clear the room.

It was a nice party,
though, wasn't it?

Very nice.

- Isn't it funny?
- What?

Oh, this afternoon I was
complaining

about the work,
the pressure.

Sometimes I get so sick of those
two dinky little rooms of mine

on the third floor,

and I think I am
going to get out,

I'm going to find an easy,
sensible 9-to-5 job,

and a big,
comfortable apartment.

Mmm-hmm.

Who am I kidding?

Look at me... little Marguerite
LeHand from Somerset, Mass

living in
the White House.

Living history,
for gosh sakes.

I was 22 years old

the day that man dropped
by his old campaign headquarters

looking for a
part-time secretary.

He'd just lost the race
for Vice President.

But he sure looked
like a winner to me.

Still, I was an
independent little snip.

Us Irish Catholic kids,
right?

And I said,
"Well, I don't know.

Give me time to
think it over."

And I took all of...
What's that?

What's what?

What's happening?

Don't let me fall.

- Don't let me fall.
- Missy, what is wrong?

Miss... Dear God.
Missy?

Any improvement?

Well, little Miss LeHand.

You're looking
very chipper this morning.

Isn't she, Mother?

The new bed jacket
is beautiful, Missy.

And look at
all those flowers.

I knew you had admirers, but good grief,
child, I never realized how many.

I had such a nice letter
from your sister this morning.

I've arranged for a car to meet her
at the station when her train arrives.

I know how pleased you'll
be to see her again.

Speaking of mail,
mine is in an awful mess

without you there
to sort it out.

And I've no one to laugh
over the funny bits with.

Oh, here's one you'll like.
Came yesterday,

addressed to "FDR,"
and then in parentheses, it said,

"Franklin Dillinger Roosevelt."
D... Don't you love it?

If you could see the way the work's
piling up on your desk,

you'd realize how
indispensable you are.

Grace has taken on a temporary
till you get back,

but frankly, the woman
gives me the pip.

Speaking of desks, I better
high-tail it back to mine.

Now, you hurry up
and get well, you hear?

That is an order.

Official,
highest priority.

No, no, child, don't.

Don't try,
it's all right.

Father understands.

I'll see you soon.

The President of
the United States

and Prime Minister
Churchill

have met at sea.

They have agreed upon
the following joint declaration,

dated August 10th, 1941:

After the final destruction
of the Nazi tyranny,

they hope to see
established a peace

which will afford assurance
that all men

in all lands may
live out their lives

in freedom from fear
and want.

Yes?
Come in, Grace.

Grace is gone
for the day.

Oh yes, of course.
What time is it?

It's almost dinnertime.

No cocktails tonight?

I didn't feel like
drinking alone.

Well, I'll have one
with you, if you like

just to keep you company.

No, thanks,
that's very noble of you,

but I don't want your
downfall on my conscience.

Ah, what did you want to ask me?
Or tell me?

Must I have a motive
for dropping in?

It's not that you must,
just that you almost invariably do.

Well, let's have it.
Louis always said I was the politician

and you were the agitator.
Agitate.

Really,
there's nothing.

What a relief for both of us that you
don't have to harangue me anymore

about doing this for the young
or that for the Negroes, or...

just unemployment,
generally.

Between the draft
and defense work,

most of our
big social problems

seem to be solving themselves
automatically.

Yes,

but isn't it a shame that it took
the threat of war to do it?

It's a shame...

but it's not our shame.
Look at this.

This is what I'm dealing
with all day long...

the carnage in Europe,
in Russia,

in Africa,
Indochina,

misery, death.

I can't remember a time when I have
been more continually battered,

morning, noon, and night,
than this past week.

Firebrands like Stimson and Morgenthau
pushing for heroic action now,

this minute.

And the other side saying,
"No, no, easy does it. Extreme caution.

That's our only hope."

And what a time
for Harry to be in New York.

He said it would just be this weekend,
and now it's Monday night

and he's not back.

Get my chariot,
would you?

- Babs?
- Hm?

You couldn't have
a word in his ear...

just, you know, strictly as if
it were your own idea?

Just remind him how important
he's become around here,

and how much I depend on his
always being available.

Okay, Griselda,
what's wrong?

- What's wrong?
- Wrong?

When you don't
like something,

such as my asking you
to talk to Harry,

you stand or sit
so straight

your back
has no give.

No bend, you mean?

No bend, no give.
What's the problem?

Really,
I'd rather not.

I meant it when I said
I didn't come in for anything special,

and certainly not to complain.
I know how tired you are.

Yes, I'm bone tired

and I'm irritable.
I'm annoyed at Harry,

and I'm going to be annoyed
with you in a minute

if you don't tell me
what's the problem.

There is no problem.

Come on, there must be
something between you two.

I should say
just the opposite.

There's nothing
between us.

Not anymore.

Since when?

Well, if you want
the exact time...

I'd say from the day

you invited him to live here
in the White House,

to have Louis' old room.

What exactly
did he do?

It's quite simple, really.

- He dropped me.
- Dropped you?

Just as quickly as he found he'd gained
your complete confidence.

But why didn't you say
something to me then?

I was too shocked.

More than that,
I was desperately hurt.

After all, I'd wanted him here
every bit as much as you,

perhaps more.

So many times, when it seemed
we'd lost touch altogether,

I thought perhaps Harry might
reconcile our differences

the way Louis always
managed to.

Look...

Louis was a perfect
sort of liaison

between you and me,
I agree,

but Harry has a much more
important role to play.

Twice now,
he's functioned

with enormous success
between Churchill and me,

once between
Stalin and me.

Don't you think that's
rather more important?

In a large historical sense,
yes, I suppose it is,

but I wasn't looking at it
from that perspective.

No, I'd say
you weren't.

I'd say you were looking at it
from a fairly niggling, small-minded,

not to mention, myopic,
point of view.

That's rather harsh.

Well yes, damn it,
I'm beginning to feel rather harsh

about this
entire conversation,

namely because it brings out
a not very admirable side of your nature,

this quirk you have
of insisting

on total and
consuming loyalty

from everyone
you admit

to the charmed circle
of your affection.

All your old chums,
your protegeés...

it's no secret how
they dote on you.

You don't require total and consuming
devotion from your friends?

I'm not aware of it.

No, I suppose
you're not.

Missy?

Louis?

And now Harry?

You're not aware of how utterly absorbed
they become in you

until finally they have
no life of their own,

no existence
independent of yours?

And your Miss Thompson?
Your Thommy?

What about her?

You can't even get her
to take a vacation once a year.

She'd be completely lost if she got
more than 200 yards from you.

It appears we both take
quite a lot from others

without fully
realizing how much.

Yes.

But is it because we
ask for it,

or because
they volunteer it?

Is it mainly
our need?

Or theirs?

I expect it's both.

If one were to pursue
the matter,

and I'm not all sure
I care to,

it might lead to another
rather interesting question:

Did we choose each other

because we're
the way we are,

or are we the way we are
because we chose each other?

Interesting.

What on earth?

What are they?

Bombers.

B-17 s from the look
of them.

In my garden?

On their way to
the English, most likely...

or the Russians.

Why can't they fly
more quietly,

or higher,
or somewhere else?

We were never bothered
with this sort of thing in 1918.

Were you with us
in 1918, Plog?

Ma'am, I was with you
in 1895.

Been here 46... no,

47 years
come next April.

Am I wrong?

We aren't even
in this war,

and it seems to me it's far more
intrusive than the last one.

Well of course, they didn't have
flying fortresses back then,

just them little bitty
fighter planes.

Yes, and they knew
their place.

I don't like it, Plog.

L-like what, ma'am?

Change.

Oh.

Plog?

- Plog?
- Ma'am?

Mr. Plog, would you
step 'round here, please?

I... I need your help.

Ah... oh.

Mrs. Roosevelt!

- Well.
- Oh.

W-what happened?

What happened? I fell down,
what do you think happened?

But I mean, why?

Why? Because I'm
87 years old, that's why.

Don't ask asinine questions.
Help me up, man.

Help me up.

Wait, ah!

- There.
- Careful now, ma'am.

Careful.

Careful.

Oh.

Now, can you walk?

Can I walk?

I'll walk to your funeral,
you silly old thing,

and you're years
younger than I am.

Oh, take me back
to the house now, Plog.

I'll be down to help you
again tomorrow.

Mama had a very wonderful end.

She had been somewhat
of an invalid all summer,

but was back from
Campobello for a week

and enjoyed Franklin's
stay at home,

though she had
a slight temperature.

About Saturday, midnight,

a clot in the lung caused
a circulatory collapse,

and she became unconscious
and remained so

until her
breathing stopped

at noon
last Sunday.

I looked at
my mother-in-law's face

after she was dead,

and understood so many things
I'd never seen before.

It is dreadful to have lived so close
to someone for 36 years,

and feel no deep affection
or sense of loss.

Oh, what's all this?

"His first sailboat.

Launched in the bathtub,
Hyde Park,

Christmas Day.

1886."

It appears she
saved everything...

your toys,
your christening dress,

little gifts
you gave her.

Everything is
tagged and dated.

There's even a lock
of your baby hair.

"His first pair
of shoes."

I've just remembered something
I must do downstairs.

Mama! Ah!

- How's your pudding?
- Fine.

- Liar.
- No, this is all right.

I just had four weeks
of hospital food, remember?

Is it homemade?

Canned.

Everything around here
is either canned or cooked to death.

Yes?

Yes, Hacky.

No, no,
I've just finished.

You know I'm expecting a call
from Secretary Hull, don't you?

Be sure to put him
straight through.

Right. Right.

Cordell is with
Ambassador Nomura.

And the special envoy.
What's his name?

- Starts with a "K."
- Kurusu.

- Saburo Kurusu.
- Ah, so.

He's the one that got the message
to me privately through Bonnie B.,

that he wants peace
and the emperor wants peace,

but that the Japanese warlords,
to use his phrase,

"are sitting with a loaded gun in each hand,
determined to shoot."

I hope he's right
about Hirohito.

The message I sent
him last night

urging him to stop the Jap
movement into Indochina

was completely
unprecedented, you know.

Channeled directly
from me to him.

When will he get it,
do you know?

Oh, let's see.
What with the time lag,

assuming the Imperial Divinity
crawls out of the sack

around 7:00 like the rest
of us poor mortals,

he ought to be reading it
within the next three or four hours.

This would be my call
from the State Department.

Yes, Cordell?

Ah... oh, Hacky?

What?

Uh-huh. Uh-huh.

Yes, put him through.

I was wrong.
It's the Navy.

Frank. Hello.

What news on this pleasant
Sunday afternoon?

- No.
- What's wrong?

What's happened?

Yesterday,
December 7th, 1941,

a date which will live
in infamy.

The United States
of America

was suddenly
and deliberately attacked

by naval and air forces

of the empire
of Japan.

Yesterday...

the Japanese government
also launched

an attack
against Malaya.

Last night,
Japanese forces

attacked Hong Kong.

Last night, Japanese forces
attacked Guam.

Last night,
Japanese forces

attacked
the Philippine Islands.

Last night, the Japanese
attacked Wake Island.

And this morning,
the Japanese

attacked
Midway Island.

With confidence
in our armed forces,

with the unbounding
determination of our people,

we will gain
the inevitable triumph,

so help us God!

I ask that
the Congress declare

that since the unprovoked
and dastardly attack

by Japan

on Sunday,
December 7th, 1941,

a state of war
has existed

between the United States

and the Japanese empire.

- Good luck.
- Thank you, Tully.

You're off, are you?

Yes, in a few minutes.

What a turmoil
the place is in.

They're fitting all the windows
with black-out curtains.

The grounds are aswarm
with extra Secret Service men

and military police
with bayonets.

They're setting up sentry boxes
at the gates and gun crews on the roof.

I know.

Noticed my latest
gadget?

- Yes, I've got one too.
- Hideous thing.

Is there any report
on the casualties at Pearl Harbor?

Well, the figures
are still coming in.

It looks pretty bad.

2,000 dead
by latest count.

More ships destroyed in one hour
than in the whole of the first war.

One question I'm bound
to be asked on this trip

that everyone seems
to be asking today

is how on Earth were we caught
sleeping in that way?

Don't you suppose
I'm asking it too?

It appears...

the Navy assumed the
Army was on full alert.

The Army thought
the Navy was maintaining

air reconnaissance
all around the island.

I don't know where
to pin the blame.

You can be sure there will be plenty
who will pin it squarely on me.

Yes, inevitably.

You are Commander in Chief,
after all.

They'll say
you should have known.

Hm. And the ones who will
say it the loudest

are the ones who
screamed "Warmonger"

every time a new bomber
rolled off the assembly line.

It's beyond belief,

the flood of idiot advice
and warnings

and instructions that's been pouring
through the switchboard all day today.

You'll be cheered
to learn

that a good part
of the lunatic fringe

maintains the West Coast
is now totally indefensible.

You still want to
go to California tonight?

Yes.

I thought you would.

I'm not worried about
being caught in an air raid

or a submarine bombardment,
or what have you.

I am worried about
the American Japanese,

with feeling running so high
against Japan itself.

Someone's got to speak up
on their behalf.

That won't be a popular stand
just at the moment.

I don't expect it
to be.

I can't tell you how I envy you
the chance to go sailing off this way.

I'm not sailing,
I'm flying.

It galls me to think that
I might be stuck in my chair

for the duration.
Me and my guards

and my gas mask.
My God.

You'd think I had some
kind of infirmity.

Any final instructions?

Be a good girl.
Keep your nose clean.

Hurry back. I'll be waiting
for a full report.

- Bye-bye.
- Bye-bye.

Grace, I'll see
Admiral Leahy now.

This war is a new kind of war.

It is different from
all other wars of the past,

not only in
its methods and weapons,

but also in its geography.

It is warfare in terms
of every continent,

every island,
every sea,

every air lane
in the world.

We must understand
and face the harsh fact

that our job now
is to fight at distances

which extend all the way
around the globe.

We have most certainly
suffered losses,

from Hitler's U-Boats
in the Atlantic,

as well as from the Japanese
in the Pacific.

We shall suffer more of them
before the turn of the tide.

But we are daily
increasing our strength.

From Berlin,
Rome, and Tokyo,

we have been described
as a nation of weaklings.

Let them tell that
to General MacArthur

and his men.

Let them tell that
to the sailors

who today are hitting hard

in the far waters
of the Pacific.

Let them tell that
to the boys

in the flying
fortresses.

Let them tell that
to the Marines.

"These are the times
that try men's souls"...

Tom Paine wrote those words
on a drum head

by the light
of a campfire.

The summer soldier
and the sunshine patriot

will, in this crisis,

shrink from the service
of their country.

But he that stands it now,

deserves the love
and thanks

of man and woman.

I recognize
the Secret Service.

I believe the President's
there as well.

Not possible.

Good Lord,
you're right.

What do you suppose
it means?

That he's missed you.

That he's anxious
for my report.

Look who insisted on
coming down to meet you.

Hello, Fala.
Hello

Hello.

Have a good flight?

Cold.
The company was good.

A crew of pilots coming back
from delivering a bomber.

Look. They signed
my short snorter.

That's proof that I've made
a transatlantic flight.

Oh, there's a letter
to you from Elliott.

Much faster than
normal air mail.

How'd he look?

Handsome,
as always.

Terribly young.

Dear bunny.

He's somewhere in Africa
by this time.

Yes. I saw him just before
his squadron took off.

Please, God,
he'll be all right.

Please God.

Brod in Italy.
Jim in the Pacific.

Johnny's fed up with
the Navy supply car.

He's bucking for combat.
Nothing's going to stop him.

No one can say the family's
not seeing the world,

- with one notable exception.
- Anna?

No, not Anna.

But look,
here you are.

You're not stuck behind
a desk as this minute.

You're out of the
White House, at least.

Yes, I've got this far.

- It's something.
- It's a start.

The famed Africa corps
of Field Marshal Rommel

is being mopped up in the
deserts of North Africa

by combined British and American forces.

Franklin Delano Roosevelt
is the first president

ever to leave the continental
United States in wartime,

and he is the first
president since Lincoln

ever to visit a battle zone.

At Casablanca in North Africa,

Roosevelt and Churchill
affect a reconciliation

between French generals
Giroux and DeGaul.

I cannot tell you
when or where

the United Nations are going
to strike next in Europe.

But I can tell you
that no matter where

and when we strike
by land,

we and the British,
and the Russians,

will hit them from
the air heavily,

and relentlessly.

Yes, the Nazis and the fascists
have asked for it

and they are
going to get it.

The massed, angered forces
of common humanity

are on the march.

The first crack
in the Axis has come.

The criminal, corrupt
fascist regime in Italy

is going to pieces.

In the Pacific, we are
pushing the Japs around

from the Aleutians
to New Guinea.

There too we have
taken the initiative

and we are not going
to let go of it.

Our naval, land, and air strength
in the Pacific is constantly growing.

All our calculations
for the future, however,

must be based on
clear understanding

of the problems
involved.

Plans we made for
the knocking out of Mussolini

and his gang
have largely succeeded.

But we still have to knock
out Hitler and his gang,

and Tojo and his gang.

None of us pretends
that this will be an easy matter.

I'm so sorry I can't sing

the way Mr. Jolson did
when he was here.

Or tell jokes
like Mr. Hope.

I do know Bob often
gets a laugh

talking about how seldom
I'm ever home.

And here I am,
living proof.

I did hear a rather
funny story

when I was in New Zealand
the other day.

It seems there was this
very unhappy Marine

on one of the islands,

and his captain said,
"What's wrong?"

And he said, "Well, sir,
we're leaving tomorrow,

and I'm the only one
in my platoon

who hasn't shot
a Jap yet."

And his captain
said, "Look,

you go up on
the ridge tonight,

and you yell,
'To hell with Hirohito! '

And a Japanese soldier
will jump up

out of his foxhole,
and you'll have your target."

Well, the next day, the Marine
was even sadder than before.

And he told the captain,

"I did just what
you said, sir.

I went up
on the ridge

and I yelled,
'To hell with Hirohito,'

and a Japanese soldier
jumped up out of his foxhole."

And the captain said,
"That's wonderful. Did you shoot him?"

"No."

"Why not?"
"Well, when he jumped up,

he yelled, 'To hell
with Roosevelt,'

and sir, I couldn't shoot
a fellow Republican."

I think we better
get moving, ma'am.

It's a long, rough haul
to the air strip.

Yes, all right.
Just a few more minutes.

I'll bring the jeep
around front.

Is there anything I can do?

Anyone at home I might
write to or telephone?

No, thank you.

Perhaps there's someone
you'd like me to go and see?

Now you're kidding.

No, I'm not.
Where do you live?

About as far as you can get
from Washington D.C.

- Where?
- Washington state.

What town?

Little town
on the Cowlitz River.

You've never heard of it.

Nobody did.
It's called Randal.

How far is that
from Seattle?

80, 85 miles.

I have a daughter
who lives in Seattle.

And three grandchildren.

I visit them
every chance I get.

I hope to see
them quite soon.

I'd be happy to drive out
and see your family.

My mom.
The old man's dead.

I'm sorry.

Boy, you better not
drop in on my mom.

She just might keel over if she ever
saw you coming up the front walk.

Oh dear, she voted
for Wilkie, did she?

No.
No, I didn't mean that.

I mean, on account of...
you know.

She reads
your column every day.

She always listens
to you on the radio.

As for the president,
why, she thinks

he's one of the two greatest
men of the century...

him and Will Rogers.

When Will Rogers was killed
in that plane crash,

she cried more for him
than she did when my dad died.

She still goes to church
every morning

and lights a candle
for both their souls.

And one for Mr. Roosevelt,
of course.

And one for you,
I hope.

Oh, yeah, sure.

That I won't
get hurt or anything.

You haven't told her.

No.

She knows
I'm in a hospital.

She thinks I just caught a little piece
of shrapnel when my ship got hit.

Isn't there anything
at all I can do?

Sure.

Maybe, after the war
is over,

you can drop on down
to Randal sometime

and maybe buy
a pencil off me.

Are you planning
to sell pencils?

Isn't that what one-legged veterans do,
traditionally speaking?

No, I'd call that a cliché,
not a tradition.

What would you advise?

Whatever you
wanted to do before.

And what if I told you I wanted to be
a tap dancer or a long distance runner?

I'd say your chances
were somewhat limited.

I'd say that was a considerable
understatement of the facts.

What did you want
to be, really?

A lawyer.

Then be a lawyer.

My husband's working very hard
to see that veterans

will have the means
to finish their education.

He was a lawyer once,
you know?

But what he really always
wanted to be was president.

And look.

He didn't have
his leg shot off.

He might has well
have had both shot off

for all the
good they are to him.

- Is that true?
- Yes.

It's not widely known,
simply because he hates pity.

His own or
anyone else's.

He likes to feel he succeeded
in spite of his handicap,

and not because of it.

Well, Robert, that certainly
puts you in your place.

Is your name Robert?

Yes.

Robert what?

Robert Dunlap.

Then your mother...

is Mrs. Dunlap?

Anne.
Mrs. Anne Dunlap.

And with an "e"?

With an "e," yes.

227 Hillview Street.

- Randal, Washington.
- Right.

Ah... listen.

You think maybe if you were the one
to sort of break it to her...

I mean,

I think about the first time
I hobble in there

and she sees me,
you know?

Now, let's see if
I've got this right.

Mrs. Anne Dunlap,

227 Hillview Street,

Randal, Washington.

I have just returned
from extensive journeyings

in the region
of the Mediterranean

and as far as
the borders of Russia.

Less than a month ago,

I flew in a big
Army transport plane

over the little town
of Bethlehem, in Palestine.

Tonight,
on Christmas Eve,

men and women everywhere
who love Christmas

are thinking about
that ancient town

and of the star of faith
that shone there

or than 19 centuries ago.

God bless all of you

who fight our battles
on this Christmas Eve.

God bless us all.

God keep us strong
in our faith,

that we fight
for a better day

for humankind...

here and everywhere.

Thank you, Mr. President.

We're off the air.

- Just all right?
- You were wonderful.

- Oh, thank you.
- As always.

"Then all the Cratchit family

drew 'round the hearth...

and at Bob Cratchit's elbow
stood the family display of glass...

two tumblers and a custard cup
without a handle.

These held the hot stuff, and Bob
served it out with beaming looks,

while the chestnuts on the fire sputtered
and crackled noisily."

Mommy.

"'Merry Christmas
to us all!

God bless us.'

Which all the family
re-echoed."

Now, who remembers
what comes next?

"God bless us,
every one."

Said Tiny Tim, the last of all.

He sat close by
his father's side,

upon his little stool.

Bob held the withered
little hand in his own,

as if he loved the child,

and wished him
to be near.

And dreaded that
he might be taken from him."

Babs?

Excuse me,
I'll be back in a minute.

"'Spirit! ' said Scrooge,

with an interest
he had never felt before.

'Tell me if Tiny Tim
will live.'

'L see a vacant seat,'
replied the spirit,

'in the poor
chimney corner.

If these shadows remain
unaltered by the future,

the child will die."'

Oh, everybody's
off to bed!

- Good night.
- Oh, good night, sweetheart.

- Santa Claus...
- Mama!

Will come early tomorrow morning.
Good night, Buzzie.

- Good night, everyone.
- Good night.

Good night, Franklin.

Oh!

- Good night, dears.
- Good night.

- Merry Christmas.
- Good night.

Merry Christmas, Anna.

- Sleep well.
- You, too.

How many years have I been
reading this on Christmas Eve?

Ooh, since Anna
was a baby. 35?

At least.

I suddenly felt my age.

Franklin the third
called me "Granny" just now.

Ah.

My mother used to call me that
when I was no older than he is

because I was such
a solemn little girl.

I've finally grown up
to the name.

Do you realize
what we're doing?

- What?
- Something historic.

Tell me.

We're having
a quiet moment alone.

How long has it been
since we've done that?

A very long time.

Why did you leave halfway
through the performance?

I felt like Jack Benny
in that movie

where he was an actor
playing Hamlet.

And every time he said,
"To be or not to be,"

somebody in the first row
got up and left the theater.

Mm?

It was just that you'd come
to the part about...

dreading a child
might be taken.

I looked at Johnny and Brod
in their uniforms

and I thought of
Elliott and James

so many thousands
of miles away

and in God knows
what sort of danger.

We don't talk like that.

I know.

Sorry, it's just that
I had a letter today.

From one of the boys?

No, from a woman,
a... a stranger,

I don't remember her name.

I don't want to.

What did she say?

Oh, a lot of
unpleasant things.

But one phrase stood out
from all the rest,

and I doubt if I shall ever
be able to forget it.

She said,
in just so many words,

"I hope your sons
are killed."

Oh, Babs.

What a world.

Yes.

One more year.

A year and a few days.

You mean if the war ends
before the next election.

You've never left a job
unfinished in your life.

Last night, June 5th,

when I spoke with you
about the fall of Rome,

I knew at that moment that
troops of the United States

and our allies,

were crossing the Channel
in another and greater operation.

It has come to pass
to success,

thus far.

And so, in this
poignant hour,

I ask you to join
with me in prayer.

Almighty God,

our sons,
pride of our nation,

this day have set upon
a mighty endeavor,

a struggle to
preserve our republic,

and to set free
a suffering humanity.

Lead them straight,

and true.

Give strength
to their arms,

stoutness
to their hearts,

steadfastness
to their faith.

Republican leaders have not
been content with attacks on me

or my wife,

or my sons.

They now include
my little dog, Fala.

You know,
Fala is Scotch.

Soon as he heard the fiction
that I'd left him behind

on the Aleutian Islands and then sent
a destroyer back to find him

at a cost to the taxpayer
of two or three

or eight,
or $20 million,

his Scotch soul
was furious.

He's not been
the same dog since.

Ha!
You're ready, are you?

Well, tell me
all about it.

Tell me all about it.

Roll over.
Roll over.

You remember
the last time?

Just as we were leaving?

He got up in the car,
in your mother's seat,

and we had to
pry him out of there.

I remember. I thought for sure
he'd be taking my place

- on the Capitol steps.
- Good morning.

Good morning.
Good morning.

Hey!
What's that for?

For being home today.

You didn't think
I'd let a war keep me away, did you?

After all, I was at all
three inaugurations so far.

If there's one thing we believe in
in the Marines,

it's maintaining a perfect record.

You're not going out
without a coat

or your cape, at least.
It's freezing.

I've got
my woolies on.

I think this is sensible, don't you?
Holding the ceremony here,

without the expense of a parade,
and all the rest of it.

I'm too busy.
The world's too busy

for that kind of
falderal right now.

I, Franklin
Delano Roosevelt,

do solemnly swear that I will faithfully
execute the office

of President
of the United States.

And will,
to the best of my ability,

preserve,
protect and defend

the Constitution
of the United States.

- So help you God.
- So help me God.

Cablegram.

Roosevelt
to Marshal Stalin.

Top secret.

March 29, 1945.

I must make it
quite plain...

to you...

that any solution

which would result

in a thinly
disguised continuance

of the present
Warsaw regime...

would be

unacceptable...

and would cause the people
of the United States...

to regard
the Yalta Agreement

as having failed.

See that there's a copy
for the record,

and one to
Prime Minister Churchill.

And you better hurry home
and pack a bag.

I'm all packed.

My bags are downstairs.

All those?
I won't have time.

Just your signature.

I'm so damn tired.

I'll come back for them.

You know, you're right.
There really isn't time.

Anyway, it isn't anything that can't wait
till we get to Warm Springs.

I'll shove them
in my briefcase.

Thank you, child.

- See you on the train.
- Right.

Ah, what timing!

- Is he free?
- Mrs. R.

Come in, Babs.
Leave it open, Grace.

Prettyman's
coming in directly.

I thought we were going
to miss connections.

Oh, so did I.

I asked Thommy
where you were,

and she said,
"She's in jail."

I said, "I'm not surprised,
but what for?"

Yes, I went down to
the women's prison again.

- Are you all ready to go?
- Yes.

Anna ready?

Anna's not coming.

Little Johnny's fever
is worse.

Oh no.

They now think the glands
may be infected.

Is she at the hospital?

I'll go over there
right away.

You look a bit down.
Is there anything else?

No, no.

Winston has asked me
to take a stand with him

about the Russians
in Poland.

I've just fired off
a cable to Uncle Joe.

We'll see what good
it does.

Other than that,
the news is all cheerful.

Everything going
our way in Germany,

in the Philippines.

Latest reconnaissance
photos of Tokyo

indicate the damage is far greater
than they've ever admitted.

The car is waiting,
Mr. President.

I'll be right there.
You go ahead.

Take that stuff with you.

Good Lord.

I used to do that
with the greatest of ease

when we first
moved in here.

Well, you were 51 then.
You're 63 now.

Don't rub it in.

You will get plenty of rest
the next few weeks.

- And gain some weight.
- I have to.

I want to be in top form when we
go to San Francisco on the 24th

to launch
the United Nations conference,

and sign the charter.

How I'm looking
forward to that.

I am, too.

That'll be enough
excitement for April.

Then in June,

you and I will take Winston
up on his invitation

and pay a State visit
to England.

But we can't possibly.

I mean, you can't.
It's dangerous.

The Germans are desperate now.
They might do anything.

No, honestly. Honestly, we can't
go while the war's on.

The war in Europe
will be over

by the end of May.

You say that with
such certainty.

Because I'm certain.

This is a perfect time
of year for Warm Springs...

sunny days, cool nights,

the Judas tree
is turning red.

Shrubs just beginning
to flower.

The scent of pine
in the air.

Washington's not so bad
just now, come to that.

It's a beautiful day out.

And the wisteria on the south portico
is in full bloom.

You know what I think we ought
to do when we leave here?

I've seen so much of the near East
in the past couple of years.

I think I'd like to
move out there and live.

I feel quite an expert.

I believe I... I could help
straighten out any number of problems

they're going to
be facing after the war.

It's something
to talk about.

Yes, we'll talk about it
when I get back.

You know, when I met lbn Saud
on my way home from Yalta,

I didn't seem to make much
headway with the old hawk

about letting Jewish
refugees into Palestine.

But I think in time...

I could bring him
around.

I gave him my other chariot
just like this one

for a gift,
did I tell you?

He and I speak
the same language.

We're a pair of used-up
old invalids.

- I'll be seeing you.
- Hurry back.

Bye-bye.

Bye-bye.

You said a moment
before he fainted,

you looked over to see him
smiling at someone. At whom?

Mrs. Rutherford was here.

Mrs. Rutherford?

Lucy. You remember.
She used to be Lucy Mercer.

Dear Thommy.

What can I do for you?

Nothing at the moment.

They'll be setting up chairs
for the service in the East Room.

Perhaps you could check
the invitation list

to makes sure
there's enough.

Oh, and Thommy?

Would you ask my daughter
to come in for a moment?

Ah, the lovely Lucy.

- New hat?
- Like it?

It suits you
perfectly.

You don't think the feather's
a little too daring?

Not on you. Beauty has
its privileges, after all.

You'll spoil me with
talk like that.

Lucy?

Oh, my God.

Darling,
you shouldn't have.

I shouldn't have?

I?

Who is it?

It's Anna.

Anna, come in.

Thommy said you
wanted to see me.

Yes, come in.

Did you know that
Anthony Eden's downstairs?

He asked if he
could come up.

In a little while.

He told me
the most marvelous thing.

He said that
in Japan last night,

Radio Tokyo interrupted a program
with the news of Pa's death,

and then said, "We will now have
an interlude of special music

in honor of the passing
of this great man."

In Tokyo.
Can you imagine?

I thought Pa
would like that.

Yes, I'm sure he would.

Did you see this?

No, what?

The editorial.

It's just typical.

You think of all the hideous
things they said about him,

when he was alive.

Almost every newspaper
in the country at one time or another.

And now, this is the sort
of thing they all have to say.

"A great and gallant
wartime leader

has died almost in the very hour
of the victory to which he led the way.

History will honor him
above all else

because he had the vision to see clearly
the supreme crisis of our times

and the courage to meet
that crisis boldly.

Men will thank God
on their knees

a hundred years
from now

that Franklin D. Roosevelt
was in the White House

in that dark hour when a powerful
and ruthless barbarism

threatened to overrun the civilization
of the Western World."

I'll leave this
for you.

Anna?

Oh, the Chicago
Daily News,

if you can believe it...

that die-hard
Republican rag...

compared him to Moses

dying before his followers
reached the land of promise.

Anna, I want to
ask you something.

Fire away.

Did you know that
Lucy Mercer...

Mrs. Rutherford...

was at Warm Springs
with your father when he was stricken?

No, I didn't.

Is that the truth?

Yes, of course it is.

What makes you think
she was?

His cousin Laura told me as much
not long after I arrived there.

Well, that was
charming of her.

She told me
something else later,

in the train
coming back.

Nothing cheerful,
I'm sure.

She said Lucy had been here,
at the White House,

in my absence.

Oh. Did she?

She said to
her certain knowledge,

Lucy had been her
at least twice,

both times for dinner.

I said, "No.

That wasn't possible.

Not with Anna there
keeping her father company.

She wouldn't have
permitted it."

And what did the tactful and discreet
Miss Delano say to that?

She said, "Oh, Anna
was there all right.

Anna acted as hostess
on both occasions."

Dear Auntie.

It's true, then?

Yes.

I can't believe it.

It's true.

But why?
Why would you do that?

Because Pa asked me.

"Because Pa asked me."

"Because Pa asked me."

"Because Pa
asked me."

Mother?

Don't be hurt.

What an extraordinary
thing to say.

"Don't be hurt"?

At least,
don't be angry.

Angry.

I'm furious.

I am as angry at this moment
as I have ever been in my life.

All right.
But at me, not at Pa.

Oh, you have your share.
Never fear.

I won't leave you out,
you of all possible people.

I could bear it if it had
been Laura or Daisy

or anyone of his
adoring handmaidens,

but my own daughter?

The only one of my children
I had ever told about Lucy.

I should have thought that you,
of everyone in the world,

knowing the suffering that I
went through all those years ago,

might have understood,

might have tried
to protect me.

I did.

How? By welcoming
that woman?

By feeding her
at my table?

By sitting at my chair
and making it look

as if her visit had
an official sanction?

By trying to keep you
from finding out.

And I don't believe you ever would have
if Pa hadn't died the way he did.

Not even Laura would ever
have dared to breathe a word

while he was alive.

But what a wicked game of chance
you were all playing with my feelings.

And how cruel of him
to run the risk

of having her there
when he died.

Mother, he didn't know
he was dying.

Oh, he knew he was ill!

Not that ill!

Well, sure, it was risky.
It was foolhardy.

It was dangerous,
if you like.

But don't you remember
what you once said

after you'd flown to
England and back

in really hazardous
conditions?

You said, it wasn't that
you were especially brave.

It was just that,
like most people,

you weren't given to seeing yourself
disappear
off the face of the earth.

Well, Pa was the same way.

It's not as if he wanted Lucy
with him in his last hour

or anything like that.

It was quite
the opposite.

She cheered him up.

She knew how to get him to relax
a little and laugh.

God, how he
needed that.

He trusted
the people who knew.

And he figured that now that her
husband was dead,

He could see her
once in a while,

without anybody
being the wiser.

You knew...

that when we agreed
not to separate,

that he promised that they would
never see each other again.

You knew that he
had sworn to that

on his honor.

Mother,
he was so lonely.

Forgive my saying it,

but you were away
so much.

And so many of the people
he cared about had died...

Louis and his mother,

and then Missy
last summer.

He never stopped
being fond of Harry,

but Harry was in the hospital
most of the time.

I tried to fill in.

I was always there with
a joke or a snappy remark.

I'd mix the cocktails when he was
too tired to fix them himself.

And I sat up
with him at night,

while he played Solitaire
or worked on his stamp collection.

Just so
he wouldn't feel alone.

But finally...

it was all pretty futile.

He was reaching for something,
way far back,

back in his past,

back when he was young and strong
and full of the devil.

When he was something
a woman could look at

and fall head-over-heels
in love with.

That's how he was when
he gave you his promise.

And while he stayed that way,
and for a long time after,

I believe he kept it.

But then,
when he broke it,

he was something
entirely different.

And so was she.

She's middle aged,
you know.

She's not
the siren you remember.

Just a nice, middle aged,
New Jersey matron.

With a pleasant voice
and a streak of silver in her hair.

If you'd ever
seen them together,

you'd know how little reason
you have to feel jealous

or betrayed.

It was all so innocent.

And so sad.

Strange.

I suddenly thought
of the last time I saw him.

He was in the elevator.

Talking about...

what we might do after
leaving the White House.

I was so touched...

by the way he seemed
to take it for granted

that we'd always
be together.

I wanted to say just
one more thing to him.

I wanted to repeat
something I'd written to him

in a letter years ago,

when he was governor,

and he took
a trip to Europe without me.

"I hate to see you go.

We really are very dependent
on each other,

even though we do see
so little of each other.

I feel as lost
as I did

when I went abroad
without you.

Dear love to you.

I miss you.

And I hate to feel you
so far away."

Of course I never
said anything at all.

Except "Bye-bye."

And then the elevator doors
closed and he was gone.

You know...

when Elliott and Faye
arrived last night,

he and I sat up late
in Pa's bedroom.

And he remembered what
Pa had said to him

the last time the two
of them had sat in there.

He talked about things easing up now
that the end of the war was in sight.

And he said,
"You know,

I think your mother and I might be
able to get together now

and do things
together.

Take some trips,
maybe.

Learn to know
each other again."

Did he say that?

His exact words.

That we might learn to
know each other again?

Well, you can ask Bunny.
He'll tell you.

No, no.

I believe you.

How beautiful the flowers
are today.

Have you noticed?

The lilac and the azalea
and rhododendron.

I'm so glad he
left instructions

to bury him in the rose garden
at Hyde Park...

instead of
St. James Cemetery.

Near the sundial where
he played when he was little.

"It is my hope

that my dear wife will,
on her death,

be buried there also."

Yes.

Yes.

- Unless...
- Unless...

you can swear

for life, for death,

oh, fear to call it loving.