Aide to Britain

Like millions of other drunk or sober, unconcerned or troubled U. S. citizens, Franklin Roosevelt stayed up on New Year's Eve to see a tragic old year out, a new year in. At midnight, to his wife, his mother and a few close friends, the President proposed a toast: "To the United States of America."

In the week that followed his address to the nation--an address in which he had shucked off the last shred of U. S. neutrality--the White House was flooded with messages, voicing approval in a ratio of 100-to-1. Even the Baltimore Sun's Frank Kent, bitter critic of the New Deal, wrote: "There can be no doubt that the President has voiced what the great bulk of Americans have in their hearts."

Isolationists made very little important noise. Only once did the President himself speak of peace, and that was in a sly hint to the people of Italy which no one could miss. In a reply to King Vittorio Emanuele III, who sent New Year greetings as he has done for many years, Mr. Roosevelt sent wishes for the personal welfare of the man who is King by grace of Benito Mussolini, "and my hope that during the year to come the Italian people may be enabled to enjoy the blessing of a righteous peace."

At his Friday press conference, the President matter-of-factly announced a $350,000,000 shipbuilding program (see p. 74). His second announcement made newsmen scribble harder. He intended to send a special emissary to London, a personal envoy, without title or status. His man: Harry Hopkins.

He nailed on the spot any assumptions that Hopkins was to be appointed Ambassador to take Joe Kennedy's place. Someone else would get that job, which Hopkins was in no physical, political or diplomatic condition to fill. But as nearly as any man can be, nervous, thin, trigger-quick Harry Hopkins has become the alter ego of Franklin Roosevelt. Since last spring he has lived in the White House.

The President declined to say what Hopkins' job would be in London. It was possible that the President wanted a confidential report on British morale. This week Hopkins took off for Lisbon on a Clipper plane.

At week's end, the President shut his door. He was confident that he was armed with the weapon of popular support as he sat down, in seclusion, to write his message to the 77th Congress (see col. 2).

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