Franklin and Lucy: President Roosevelt, Mrs. Rutherfurd, and the Other Remarkable Women in His Life
By Joseph E. Persico
Random House, 443 pages, $28
An offhand comment by Eleanor Roosevelt to her mother-in-law in 1920 -- " 'Did you know Lucy Mercer married Mr. Winty Rutherfurd two days ago?' " -- masked what was probably the most painful emotional trauma of her life: the discovery of a wartime affair between her husband, Franklin, then assistant secretary of the Navy in the Wilson administration, and her social secretary, the well-bred and charming Lucy Mercer.
Eleanor offered Franklin a divorce, but he chose to stay married, in large part because of his political ambitions; elected office would have been out of the question for a divorced man. In addition, his domineering mother, Sara Delano Roosevelt, threatened to cut off his inheritance if he left Eleanor and his five children for Lucy. In this tense family drama, FDR agreed never to see Lucy again, a promise we now know he failed to keep. The Lucy Mercer story and its aftershocks continued to play out in complicated ways for the rest of the Roosevelts' marriage, culminating with Eleanor learning that Lucy had often visited the White House in her absence during the war and was with FDR the day he died at Warm Springs, Ga., in 1945.
The story of FDR and Lucy has been known for decades. Jonathan Daniels first mentioned the romance in print in 1966, and the story has been retold by, among others, Joseph Lash in the 1970s, Geoffrey Ward in the 1980s, Blanche Wiesen Cook and Doris Kearns Goodwin in the 1990s and Resa Willis in 2004. If the story is so familiar, why did Joseph E. Persico, author of a book about Roosevelt and World War II espionage as well as other wartime histories, revisit it now with "Franklin and Lucy"?
The impetus came from a small cache of mementos and unpublished letters between Lucy and FDR made available by her descendants. More broadly, Persico hoped that a focus on the women in Roosevelt's life would provide "a more intimate, more human FDR . . . than the larger-than-life figure who strides the pages of history."
There are no smoking guns, no dramatic revelations. Because most of the correspondence among the principles was destroyed, the paper trail is thin. We may never conclusively know if Lucy and Franklin physically consummated their affair in 1917-1918 (although it seems likely), but there is no evidence to suggest an ongoing sexual relationship during the 12 years Roosevelt was president.
And yet the clandestine way the two former lovers stayed in contact, despite FDR's vow to Eleanor, makes it clear this relationship was significant and long term, not a passing flirtation. And because it coincided with Roosevelt's leadership in two of the gravest challenges the U.S. faced in the 20th Century -- the Great Depression and World War II -- it is relevant to our full understanding of the 32nd president.
Even though Lucy Mercer provides the emotional core of the book, there is not enough material to warrant a biography (Resa Willis' "FDR and Lucy: Lovers and Friends" runs to just 152 pages of text.) So Persico widens his lens to other women in FDR's life, including his strong-willed mother, his equally strong-willed wife, his loyal secretary (and surrogate wife/hostess) Marguerite "Missy" LeHand, solicitous cousin Margaret "Daisy" Suckley, the crown princess of Norway (FDR always had a weakness for royalty), publisher Dorothy Schiff and his oldest child and only daughter, Anna. Did I leave anyone out? Persico should have left Schiff out, because she doesn't really fit the pattern Eleanor identified as "lovely ladies who worshipped at his shrine," which is the general theme of the book.
Why do these women matter? Persico argues that FDR's flirtatiousness and need for adoration doomed any hope he and Eleanor could have a fulfilling, mutually satisfactory personal relationship. So attractive and charismatic is FDR and so dour and schoolmarmish is poor Eleanor -- "Adonis" and "Plain Jane," as Persico refers to them -- that the marriage is portrayed as a mismatch from the start. In a sweeping generalization not all readers may find convincing or warranted, Persico concludes, "So natural was the attraction between the man and so many women that while questions may be raised about FDR's sexual capacity from a wheelchair, there is scant reason to believe he would have been a faithful husband if spared polio." Needy as Franklin was for female adulation, he also was remarkably willing to work with self-assured and accomplished professional women, many of whom he met through Eleanor. Most men of his class and times were so bound by traditional gender expectations that they felt uncomfortable working alongside women, but not FDR. As he told Secretary of Labor Frances Perkins, whom, in 1933, he appointed the first woman to a Cabinet post:
" 'I am willing to take more chances. I've got more nerve about women and their status in the world.' "