FRANKLIN DELANO ROOSEVELT by Kathleen Kudlinski

Author:Kathleen Kudlinski
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: ALADDIN PAPERBACKS
Published: 2003-07-15T00:00:00+00:00

“Mother will take care of them,” he answered smoothly.

That easygoing confidence kept the treatment center growing. Roosevelt used all his people skills to gather medical support and financial funding. Franklins cheer colored every bit of the treatment, too. There were games in the pool and contests, nicknames and laughter, hugs and encouragement. The polios teased their “Doctor Roosevelt” and he always responded with a playful grin.

He got a car for himself and had it rebuilt with hand controls instead of foot pedals. Franklin bought a farm for himself, too, with cows and chickens and fruit trees. Just as he had with his polio, he tried all sorts of modern farming ideas until he found ones that worked just right in the hot Georgia climate. He shared what he learned with other farmers. He would drive about, visiting his farm, exploring the countryside, and stopping in the town. He loved to talk to the local people and now he felt stirrings of the old political plans. Driving around in the car, he wasn’t paralyzed. He listened to the poor farmers and their troubles. They had no electricity. No running water. No jobs. No money. No hope. Franklin imagined solutions to their problems—things he could change, if he were back in the government.

Back home, Eleanor and Louis were thrilled that Franklin was thinking about returning to public life. They talked Al Smith, the governor of New York, into letting Franklin give the speech nominating him for president at the party’s national convention. It meant that Franklin would have to stand up before thousands of important politicians at the Democratic Convention in Madison Square Garden in New York City. Could he do it? What if he fell over? It was a risk for Al Smith, too. In the 1920s people were still turned off by anyone with a disability. But if Roosevelt could prove himself healthy and strong, he could jump back into politics.

Franklin and his son James practiced for months before the convention. “We can’t let them see me in a wheelchair,” Franklin said, “or being carried.” He had been wearing his braces outside his pants in Georgia, where the polios were used to seeing hardware on one another. Now he wore them inside his pants, and the rods at the bottom were painted black so they would blend into his socks. These braces—and Franklins legs tied inside them—had only two positions: straight out or bent to sit down.

He “walked” stiff-legged, swinging his heavy braces between crutches. It looked more natural if he gripped his sons arm. Either way, it was slow. It hurt. It was risky, too, but it looked like walking, and that was what mattered.

Roosevelt practiced the speech Al Smith had given him, until it sounded great—even the final quote about “the happy warrior.”

The convention was a week long. Every day James took his father to Madison Square Garden long before anyone else arrived. Franklin was posed, sitting in a big chair, and there he had to stay until everyone left at the end of the day.

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