The Savvy, Salty Political Saint

In recent years, Eleanor's personal life has drawn far more attention than her activism—particularly her relationship with the amply proportioned, cigar-smoking reporter Lorena Hickok, who lived in the White House for years. Historian Blanche Wiesen Cook disclosed that photos of family dinners were cropped to exclude Hickok, writing that "the fact of ER's closest woman friend during the White House years was erased, distorted, and demeaned." Thousands of the intense letters between Hickok and Eleanor survive: "I wish I could lie down beside you tonight," wrote Eleanor, "& take you into my arms." Hickok told Eleanor that when she was away, she missed "the feeling of that soft spot just north-east of the corner of your mouth against my lips." While many interpret this language as fervidly Victorian, their passion certainly suggests a physical intimacy.

You can imagine how startled Eleanor might have been to discover she would be heralded as a lesbian icon in years to come. But Cook also claims she had an affair with her handsome 32-year-old bodyguard Earl Miller, whose public displays of affection irritated Eleanor's friends. If this were true—her son James thinks it is, but their letters have been destroyed—Eleanor, at 44, may also be the nation's first high-profile cougar.

It would be a shame, though, if prurience overshadowed the true legacy of Eleanor Roosevelt, in human rights and the politics of compassion. When Franklin Roosevelt was elected president, Eleanor insisted there was not going to be any First Lady—"there is just going to be plain, ordinary Mrs. Roosevelt. And that's all." But she wrote her own nationally syndicated newspaper column, testified before congressional committees and held weekly press conferences with female reporters. She deliberately made controversial statements about such matters as the responsibility to the poor to "get topics talked about and so get people to thinking about them." Her husband often shrugged, and said people knew he couldn't control her. She relentlessly lobbied him on policy matters, particularly those affecting the poor, dispossessed or discriminated against. At one stage, Franklin asked her to write no more than three memos a night. He often followed her advice on subjects as diverse as tax and youth movements, but she argued that she did not have any influence on his administration.

Her claims are not convincing. Black says the irony is "that Eleanor Roosevelt, who the world thinks of as a great conscience, lied. She always denied she had power. She always said she never changed her husband's mind on any policy. Eleanor got slammed for concealing. Hillary got slammed for being honest." Some say Eleanor was driven only by a desire to help others. But to do that, she needed power over those with whom she disagreed. She was criticized when she took an official role in the Office of Civilian Defense; the attacks led her to take largely covert action—using letters, conversations and orchestrated seating plans at White House dinners to advance her policy interests. She was fond of a poem by Stephen Vincent Benet, which described the lady of the plantation:

"She was often mistaken, not often blind/And she knew the whole duty of womankind/To take the burden and have the power/And seem like the well-protected flower."

This flower was often referred to as the most powerful woman in Washington, and as a cabinet minister without a portfolio. Historian Susan Ware, editor of the dictionary Notable American Women, says, "Clearly Eleanor was a total political animal, but she wouldn't usually admit that. [She would say], 'Oh, I was just my husband's helpmate'—the historical records show otherwise."