(See Cover) The most passionate enemies of Franklin D. Roosevelt would not deny that he is a leader. His most passionate friends think he has led the U. S. to the verge of a Promised Land—which, to opponents, looks more like Hell. But whether Mr. Roosevelt is Moses or Lucifer, he is a leader. To many people he has been their leader so long that they find it hard to imagine anyone else in his place. A divinity doth hedge a U. S. President, no less than a king; and in seven years a White House incumbent can easily come to seem more than lifesize.
Last week, as the U. S. prepared for the great act — now only seven months away — of choosing its next President, it became apparent, notwithstanding such beliefs, that U. S. citizens have no dearth of potential Presidents to choose from. Whoever is elected President next November 11, the heavens will not fall, the sun will rise, the nation will very probably not go to the dogs. All this is comforting to many a plain citizen getting ready to witness the hottest political campaign in years.
In neither party was the candidate a foregone conclusion; no more so the election. Since 1920 no G. 0. P., since 1924 no Democratic convention promised to be so exciting; since 1916 no election appeared to be so close. Of so many candidates, so many leaders, none was really inconceivable as a U. S. President. Buckle on the weakest the diamond-studded championship belt, surround him with patronage, brass bands and ceremony, show him intent up to his knees in a trout stream, give him powerful speeches to make—and there would go the 33rd President of the U. S., beloved of the people until he tries to do or fails to do what he promised. The visible possibilities, likely and unlikely, make not a bad roster:
John L. Lewis. Long since 1937 the U. S. stopped thinking of C. I. Oligarch Lewis as a potential candidate; and few "influences" in U. S. political history have seemed so uninfluential. Of 40 Congressional candidates he blasted at in 1938, 39 were promptly elected; in Pennsylvania his support was politically fatal. Yet John Llewellyn Lewis, 60, shag mane, miner's pallor, pompous oratory and all, might be a forceful, effective, and sur prisingly conservative President.
Few remember that Calvin Coolidge, of all people, once wanted him as Secretary of Labor in his Cabinet. Last week, out of hundreds of columns and editorials condemning Lewis' threat of a Third Party, only Columnists Ernest Lindley (Washington Post) and Ludwell Denny (Scripps-Howard) realized that Mr. Lewis was really talking about 1944, that he believes the politically disinherited U. S. groups must have some point to rally on.
Wendell Willkie. Thoroughly Presidential is Utilitycoon Willkie, the home spun Indianian who makes sense on any subject (New Dealers would except TVA). Mr. Willkie, 48, no Tory, is brilliant, countrified, adept in controversy and, to many minds, the best domestic brain on politico-economics. He has two serious handicaps—he is associated in the public mind with utilities; he is unknown politically west of the Mississippi.