The World of Harry Truman

WHILE visiting Harry Truman in the closing months of his presidency, Winston Churchill spoke with blunt generosity: "The last time you and I sat across a conference table was at Potsdam. I must confess, sir, I held you in very low regard. I loathed your taking the place of Franklin Roosevelt. I misjudged you badly. Since that time, you, more than any other man, have saved Western civilization."

If Churchill was deceived at first, so were most of his contemporaries. Sir Winston, in fact, was some years ahead of other historians in his reevaluation. Truman was one of those public men whose reputations flourish only after years of retirement. His nondescript appearance, his shoot-from-the-hip partisanship, his taste for mediocre cronies who tainted the record with scandal --all the things that made him seem too small for the office--dwindled in importance with the passing decades. What loomed larger was a sense of the man's courage, a realization that he faced and made more great decisions than most other American Presidents. It was Harry Truman who decided to drop the atomic bomb. It was the Truman Doctrine that shattered the long U.S. tradition of peacetime isolation by supporting Greece and Turkey against Communist threats. It was Truman's Marshall Plan that committed U.S. resources to the rebuilding of Europe. Later Truman defied the Soviet blockade of Berlin and risked war by authorizing the airlift. Still later he met the Communist invasion of South Korea by ordering U.S. forces into the field.

If those accomplishments were long past, the Trumanesque spunk and will that produced them were evident right up to the end. After a tenacious 22-day struggle in Kansas City's Research Hospital and Medical Center (see MEDICINE), the nation's 33rd President died, at 88, from what doctors officially termed "organic failures causing a collapse of the cardiovascular system." Truman had detested Richard Nixon for years after the 1952 campaign, when Nixon implied that Truman might be treasonously soft on Communism, but the feud was since mended. Now Nixon proclaimed a 30-day period of national mourning and praised Truman as "one of the most courageous Presidents in our history" and "a man with guts." Warm tributes from world leaders flowed into Independence, Mo. France's President Georges Pompidou and Great Britain's Queen Elizabeth II both cited Truman's aid in rebuilding Europe after the war. Noting Truman's early recognition and support of Israel, Foreign Minister Abba Eban said the U.S. President had "helped a tormented humanity to stand on its feet and to raise its head high once again."

Truman had personally approved elaborate military plans for a five-day state funeral ("A damn fine show. I just hate that I'm not going to be around to see it," he had said), including attendance by heads of state. But a shorter, simpler schedule was ordered by his wife Bess, 87, whom he had often referred to fondly as "the boss." Instead of the planned procession with muffled drums, a casket-bearing caisson and the symbolic riderless horse, a caravan of 21 cars and a hearse briskly transferred the body from a funeral home to the Truman Library in Independence. There some 75,000 people queued patiently through the night, some carrying sleeping children in their arms, to file past the mahogany coffin. Explained one mourner from Independence: "This whole town was a friend of Harry's." A wreath of red, white and blue carnations (Truman's favorite flowers) was placed at the casket by President Nixon, who, with Pat, also visited the plain white frame Truman house on Delaware Street. Nixon told Mrs. Truman that the simple ceremonies befitted her husband--"He didn't put on airs." A similar visit was made by Lyndon Johnson, now the only living former President, and Lady Bird. Johnson called Truman "a 20th century giant" and "one of the greatest men to lead freedom's cause."

The funeral itself, held at the library, was basically an Episcopal service, although a Baptist minister and a Masonic leader also participated (Truman, past Masonic Grand Master, was baptized in the Baptist church at age 18; Bess is an Episcopalian). At Truman's request, no hymns were sung and there was no eulogy. Bess and her daughter Margaret watched the ceremony from behind a green curtain that screened them from the 242 invited mourners, all relatives or close friends of the family. At the burial site in the library courtyard--a spot Truman had selected 15 years ago--a frail but composed Bess accepted the folded flag that had covered the coffin, after a trio of traditional military touches: three musket volleys, a final 21-gun salute from howitzers of Truman's beloved World War I Battery D and the blowing of taps.

Lightfoot. Harry Truman was the country boy of legend who comes to the big city and outwits all the slickers. His parents and grandparents were people of the Middle Border, the odd blend of Midwesterner and Southerner that enriches Missouri with all the paradoxes of that mid-continental mixture. He was innately religious and believed in daily prayer, but like his mother, he was a lightfoot Baptist; he looked on dancing, cardplaying and bourbon drinking with a tolerant eye. He wore his provincialism as proudly as he did his loud sports shirts, which, to much of the world, represent the American tourist.

And what, Harry Truman would have asked, is wrong with the American tourist? He never pretended; better than most men, Truman knew himself. He possessed some hard inner kernel of conviction--partly moral, partly intellectual, partly folk wisdom --that was neither proud nor ashamed. It made him secure.

Though he was born provincial, he was not born poor. The family farms ran to hundreds of acres. But wheat futures went bad just when young Harry graduated from high school in 1901, and college was out of the question.

A congenital eye defect condemned him to thick lenses and excluded him from the wide fraternity of athleticism. Reserved, almost withdrawn as a boy, he read every book in the local library. Later, because he was essentially lonely, he became a joiner. In 1918, his field-artillery regiment was sent to France, where Captain Truman for the first time on record displayed the cockerel courage that was to characterize his career. Later he recalled his greeting to the battery: "I told them I knew they had been making trouble for the previous commanders. I said, 'I didn't come over here to get along with you. You've got to get along with me. And if there are any of you who can't, speak up right now and I'll bust you right back now!' " Added Truman: "We got along."

Back in civilian life, Truman married his childhood sweetheart, Bess Wallace, and invested his life savings of $15,000 in a haberdashery shop in Kansas City, Mo. He prospered briefly, then went broke during the depression of 1922, but proudly paid back all his creditors, although it took years to do so. His political career began when the brother of Kansas City's Boss Thomas Pendergast walked into the failing store, leaned an elbow on the counter, and asked whether Truman would be interested in running for county judge in Jackson County--which includes Kansas City. The offer was apparently made because Boss Pendergast's nephew Jim had served in Truman's regiment. Having no better prospects at the time, Truman said, "Yes, why not?"

In Jackson County, the county judges are the chief elected executives, and are concerned with roads, hospitals and political patronage. Truman held the job of judge and later presiding judge for ten of the next twelve years. In 1934, at the age of 50, with the help of Pendergast's machine, he was elected to the U.S. Senate. They called him "the Senator from Pendergast."

The snide remark was unfair. Truman frequently got advice from Pendergast, all right, but just as frequently he disregarded it. Even F.D.R. thought Truman was in Pendergast's pocket; he asked the Missouri boss to get Truman's vote for Alben Barkley as Senate Majority Leader. Truman voted for Pat Harrison, observing: "They better learn downtown right now that no Tom Pendergast or anybody else tells Senator Truman how to vote." Re-elected to the Senate in 1940, he soon launched the Special Committee Investigating the National Defense Program--the Truman Committee--which was to help carry him to the White House.

Load of Hay. Truman's investigation saved the nation billions of dollars during the huge hurry and grab of wartime procurement. By 1944, his personal stature had grown so impressive that some Democrats saw him as a way out for F.D.R., who was looking for a new running mate to replace the controversial Henry Wallace. James Byrnes was proposed and Truman even agreed to nominate him. But the final choice was an astonished Harry Truman.

Truman's tenure as Vice President was brief. In less than three months, Eleanor Roosevelt was to tell him: "Harry, the President is dead." The new President spoke to reporters next day: "I don't know whether you fellows ever had a load of hay or a bull fall on you. But last night the moon, the stars and all the planets fell on me. If you fellows ever pray, pray for me."

He was ill-prepared because Roosevelt had not taken him into his inner councils, had not even let him in on the secret of the atom bomb. For a while, Truman floundered, and he never did acquire any sense of personal grandeur. But he did come to understand his office. On his desk, he placed a sign: THE BUCK STOPS HERE. So did pretension.

Neither status nor success made any significant change. Truman's idea of a holiday was to spend a week in the VIP quarters at the Key West naval base and do a little fishing. He still took his early-morning walks (at the military quicktime pace of 120 steps a minute), to the distress of Secret Service men and reporters trying to stay awake and keep up with him. When a Washington critic said some unpleasant things about the singing talent of his daughter Margaret ("my baby"), he dashed off a letter which said, in part: "I have just finished reading your lousy review. I never met you, but if I do you'll need a new nose and plenty of beefsteak and perhaps a supporter below."

Manure. Always an earthy talker, Truman once offended a friend of his wife's by referring repeatedly to "the good manure" that must have been used to nurture the fine blossoms at a Washington horticulture show. "Bess, couldn't you get the President to say 'fertilizer'?" the woman complained. Replied Mrs. Truman: "Heavens, no. It took me 25 years to get him to say 'manure.' " When confronted by a press conference question he did not care to answer, Truman did not hesitate to say "no comment" or, more pointedly, "That's none of your business."

When confronted by the great issues Harry Truman never flinched. The one that has brought him the heaviest criticism was the decision to drop the atomic bomb. As was his practice, Truman listened to both sides of the argument, thought, and then decided. Later he recalled: "We faced half a million casualties trying to take Japan by land. It was either that or the atom bomb, and I didn't hesitate a minute, and I've never lost any sleep over it since."

In the wake of World War II, Truman enjoyed a brief honeymoon with the public. Then troubles came. Abroad, the Communists were pressing hard, backing an armed insurrection in Greece and threatening Turkey. In 1947, the hard-pressed British declared that they could no longer defend the borders of freedom in the eastern Mediterranean. Remote as such places then seemed to U.S. interests, the President proclaimed the Truman Doctrine: the U.S. would aid free countries threatened by Communist aggression.

Only months later, Truman initiated Secretary of State George Marshall's plan for the economic revival of Europe. Along with the largely military Truman Doctrine, the Marshall Plan probably staved off imminent revolution in some countries and provided Western Europe with the means to rebuild its cities and industries.

At home, Truman was less successful. He was heavily beset by postwar shortages, inflation, strikes and the mink-coat, deep-freezer hanky-panky of a few subordinates. In responding, Truman characteristically attacked rather than turned defensive. When the railroad workers struck, he threatened to seize the railroads. In early 1948, his popularity was at a low ebb. Panicky party strategists declared that if the Democrats did not appease the South, the party would vanish. Some seriously suggested that Truman should resign. Truman responded by proposing an elaborate series of civil rights measures that only further antagonized the South.

The Democratic Convention in Philadelphia kept him waiting until nearly 2 a.m. on a sweltering night in July 1948 before reluctantly nominating him for a full term. Harry Truman walked in, wearing an ice-cream suit that only a haberdasher from Missouri would choose for the occasion--and brought the dispirited convention cheering to its feet. He announced that he was calling a "Turnip Day" session of what he had labeled the "do-nothing" 80th Congress to give it a chance to enact its own Republican program.

The Congress predictably did nothing, and Harry Truman, without major money or major support, set out on a whistle-stop campaign across the country. He lambasted Congress for the higher cost of living, for blocking low-rent housing, for failing to vote grain-storage bins. "Give 'em hell, Harry!" the crowds cried. The Democratic left had deserted to the third-party candidate, Henry Wallace, the South to Strom Thurmond's States' Rights party. Republican Candidate Thomas E. Dewey was calm, self-confident, and spent much of his time discussing his future Cabinet. Not until midmorning on the day after election did an amazed nation learn that Truman had scored the greatest upset in U.S. electoral history.

Uproar. His second term soon turned frustrating. Scarcely a month went by without some congressional committee grilling one of his friends for some peccadillo or outright misfeasance. China had been taken over by Communists, contributing to the charge that the State Department was "soft on Communism." When the invasion of South Korea started, Truman reacted with typical dispatch. In a space of 60 hours, he ordered U.S. forces into battle and got U.N. endorsement. When General Douglas MacArthur tried to bully him from abroad and issued battlefront ukases challenging U.S. policy, Truman did not hesitate. He recalled the hero of World War II despite public and political uproar. Truman's reaction was characteristic: "General MacArthur was insubordinate and I fired him. That's all there was to it."

By 1952, the Korean War was bogged down in a seemingly endless stalemate. Senator Joe McCarthy was in full cry, charging that the State Department was infested with Communists. Nervous because of the discovery of some real spies, concerned that the Russians had developed an atom bomb of their own, dismayed by the course of events in Asia, the nation was all too ready to listen. Though he could have run for another term, Harry Truman decided that he had had enough. It was another sound decision.

In retirement, Truman willingly faded from public life. In Independence, he built a library for his papers of which he was inordinately proud. He still ate at lunch counters, stopped at roadside restaurants on his rare trips, and offered no punditry to later Presidents. He was discontented with the intellectual style of the 1952 candidate, Adlai Stevenson, but could not convey to him what he felt was wrong. Truman was a man of action, and deprived of the power to act, he receded into near anonymity.

When he died, Harry Truman was under no illusion that he was a giant of intellect or even a "great" man. He was, as has been said, perhaps the greatest little man the U.S. has known. In a nation founded on the principle that ultimate wisdom lodges in its citizens, that is no mean accolade.

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