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At 54, Hopkins makes no bones about liking his job, criticism and all. It is a good job: a chance to share in the making of history without any direct responsibility. The most legitimate criticism of his position comes from those who are dismayed over the immense influence he wields without being answerable to the people. Thus, while Hopkins' friends howl that he is the mere whipping boy for those who want to lash the President, his acts are, in effect, the President's; Franklin Roosevelt must accept responsibility for them.
Meanwhile Hopkins takes criticism of himself without public comment, philosophizing that he has everything that a man in public office can want. And he has got everything—except a constituency. He could never be elected to anything, and he can never enjoy the ultimate thrill of the public leader, of thousands or millions of people acclaiming him as their man. But this, apparently, is something he does not want anyhow.
The present Mrs. Hopkins is credited by his friends with slowing down his tempo considerably, putting him on a sane regimen, and keeping him from overwork. It was not always so. In the days immediately after Pearl Harbor, when Hopkins was working 18 hours a day, one of his male friends once counseled: "Cut it out, Harry, you'll kill yourself." Harry, who is no man to overlook a little quiet drama, looked up over his shell-rimmed glasses and replied: "Do you know a better way to die?"
* In non-aspirated Russian, he is "Garry Gopkins."