“How can you say such a thing?” demanded the man incredulously.
“How can you not see it?” retorted Roosevelt. “How can they not see it, those fools in the Congress? It’s only a matter of a few years, a decade at most, before women get the vote, before we stop harassing our minorities at the polls. Can’t anyone else see that the party that fights most vigorously for their rights will count them among their numbers? Can’t anyone else understand that an influx of voters greater than the number that already exist will totally change the balance of political power in this country?” He paused, and his chin jutted out pugnaciously. “No matter what you think, I haven’t been waging this war for myself — though I pity the man who has to tell my Alice that she can’t vote for her father on election day. I’m waging it because it’s the right thing to do, whether I win or lose — and because if the Republicans don’t realize what the future holds, then sooner or later the Democrats will, and we will permanently become the nation’s minority party.”
“Calm yourself, Theodore,” said Root, laying a hand on his shoulder. “We can’t have the President dying of a stroke a week before the election.”
Roosevelt jumped at the touch of Root’s hand, then blinked his eyes rapidly, as if suddenly realizing his surroundings. “I’m sorry, Elihu,” he said. “The election is all but over, and here I am, still campaigning.”
“It’s an issue worth campaigning for,” said the plain- looking woman.
“The problem is that nobody who agrees with me is allowed to vote for me,” said Roosevelt with a wry smile.
“That’s not so, Theodore,” said Pinchot. “I agree with you.”
“And I,” added Root.
“Me, too, Teddy,” said McCoy. “You know that.”
“That’s probably why none of you hold elected office,” remarked the President with dry irony.
The party continued for another three hours, as still more relatives and old friends stopped by to pay their respects, and to see Roosevelt one last time while he was still the President of the United States. Politicians and Rough Riders, New York dandies and Indian chiefs, men of letters and men of action, black men and white, women of all political stripes, mingled and rubbed shoulders in the Hyde Park mansion, for the President had made many friends in his 58 years. Even F. C. Selous had taken time off from a safari to cross the Atlantic and celebrate his most famous client’s birthday. Roosevelt, for his part, was soon so busy greeting guests that there were no more outbursts.
At ten o’clock, Edith had the servants bring out a case of champagne, which everyone except the President imbibed. Then came the cake, and a chorus of “For He’s a Jolly Good Fellow”, and then, one by one, the guests began departing.
By midnight only a handful of people remained: Root, McCoy, Selous, two grizzled old Rough Riders, and the plain-looking woman.
“I see your husband’s left without you again,” noted Roosevelt.
“He had business to conduct,” replied the woman. “Politicians are just the opposite of flowers: they don’t bloom until the sun goes down.”
Roosevelt chuckled. “You always did have a fine wit.”
“Thank you.”
“I’ll never know what perverse whim caused you to marry a Democrat,” he continued, “but I suppose he’s no worse than most and probably better than some. Grow him out and I imagine he’ll turn out all right.”
“I plan to, Cousin Theodore.” She paused. “By the way, I fully agree with what you said before. The party that reaches out to the disenfranchised will dominate the next half century of merican politics.”
“I’m glad someone was listening,” said Roosevelt.
“Listening and taking notes.” She smiled. “Well, mental notes, anyway.”
“How about your husband?” said Roosevelt. “I’ve never asked before — but what’s his position on enfranchisement?”
“The same as yours.”
“Really?” said Roosevelt, suddenly interested. “I didn’t know that.”
“He doesn’t know it, either,” answered the plain-looking woman, “but he will when I get through speaking to him.”
Roosevelt grinned. “You’re a remarkable woman, Eleanor.”
She smiled back at him. “Why, thank you, Cousin Theodore.”
“Play your cards right and you may be the second First Lady named Roosevelt.”
“I plan to,” she assured him.
1917:
Over There
Roosevelt spent most of 1915 and 1916 writing articles and making speeches all across the country in favor of America entering World War I. It isn’t generally known, but he actually volunteered to reconstitute the Rough Riders and take them to France, but Woodrow Wilson slapped that idea down the second he heard of it.
But what if he had been allowed to go? What if the greatest hero of the late 19th Century had come face-to-face with what warfare had become in the 20th Century? It was an irresistible notion. I wrote it for one of Greg Benford’s What Might Have Been? anthologies, and he graciously let me sell it to Asimov’s as well.
(Side note. I have had maybe fifteen of my stories and two of my novels read aloud for various audio recordings. Some were okay, some were embarrassingly bad. Only one was outstanding — this one, read by the fine actor William Windom for an audio anthology Marty Greenberg assembled. After I heard it, I wrote Windom a letter telling him that I thought it was a pretty good story when I wrote it, but I had no idea how good it was until I heard him read it.)
I respectfully ask permission immediately to raise two divisions for immediate service at the front under the bill which has just become law, and hold myself ready to raise four divisions, if you so direct. I respectfully refer for details to my last letters to the Secretary of War.
— Theodore Roosevelt
Telegram to President Woodrow
Wilson, May 18, 1917
I very much regret that I cannot comply with the request in your telegram of yesterday. The reasons I have stated in a public statement made this morning, and I need not assure you that my conclusions were based upon imperative considerations of public policy and not upon personal or private choice.
— Woodrow Wilson,
Telegram to Theodore Roosevelt,
May 19, 1917
The date was May 22, 1917.
Woodrow Wilson looked up at the burly man standing impatiently before his desk.
“This will necessarily have to be an extremely brief meeting, Mr. Roosevelt,” he said wearily. “I have consented to it only out of respect for the fact that you formerly held the office that I am now privileged to hold.”
“I appreciate that, Mr. President,” said Theodore Roosevelt, shifting his weight anxiously from one leg to the other.
“Well, then?” said Wilson.
“You know why I’m here,” said Roosevelt bluntly. “I want your permission to reassemble my Rough Riders and take them over to Europe.”
“As I keep telling you, Mr. Roosevelt — that’s out of the question.”
“You haven’t told me anything!” snapped Roosevelt. “And I have no interest in what you tell the press.”