SUSAN ELIA MACNEAL: October 15.
That's the date I'm working toward.
That's when I need to hand in Maggie Hope #5, Mrs. Roosevelt's Confidante, to my editor.
Less than a month away.
And oh, lovely readers, it's not pretty around here.
There is much head-scratching, hair-pulling, and gnashing of teeth as I try to finish and tie up all the loose ends.
Right now there are a lot of loose ends. But it's all right. I have faith. And also two week-long solo writing retreats before the end.
At any rate, here's a snippet from the beginning of the novel. In it we see President Roosevelt and First Lady Eleanor Roosevelt together on December 22, 1941 — the day Winston Churchill and his staff (including Maggie Hope) will arrive in Washington, D.C.
Enjoy!
xxSusan
It
was morning, and Eleanor Roosevelt opened the door of the President’s bedroom
without knocking. There she stood, glaring, hands on her hips. “Franklin,” she demanded
in high-pitched tones just short of dulcet, “why didn’t you tell me Winston
Churchill’s coming to the White House?”
Mrs. Roosevelt was a slim, tall, middle-aged woman
who seemed constantly in motion—except for rare moments such as this. Her thick
grey hair was pulled into a low chignon. She was already dressed for they day,
wearing a simple suit and low-heeled shoes.
President Franklin
Delano Roosevelt, armed with newspapers, mail, and messages, was taking
breakfast in bed. The morning headlines were far from reassuring: 80 JAPANESE
TRANSPORTS APPEAR OFF LUZON, U.S. SANK OR DAMAGED 14 U-BOATS IN ATLANTIC, and HITLER
OUSTS ARMY HEAD—TAKES FULL CONTROL. As he read, he fed tiny pieces of bacon to
his small black Scottish terrier, Fala, curled up on the bed beside him.
The President shrugged. He’d known the British P.M.
was coming ever since the attack on Pearl Harbor, nearly two weeks before—but
for security reasons, had kept the news to himself. At fifty-one, Franklin
Roosevelt was a large, robust man—that is, except for his legs, which were
paralyzed by polio. He had a large oblong face with a jutting jaw and silver
pince-nez spectacles balanced on the bridge of his nose. He kept his Camel
cigarette in an ivory holder between his teeth, held at a jaunty angle.
Mrs. Roosevelt continued, “Well, one of the first
things we must do is remove all the art depicting the War of 1812. That would
be a horrible gaffe.”
The President reached
down to stroke Fala’s silky ears. “Yes, dear.” The dog wagged her tail, then
hoping for more bacon.
“I think we can keep the Revolutionary war
paintings. But perhaps take down President Washington.”
“Washington? Keep him up—Churchill has high
respect for the Founding Fathers, so I’ve read. And even if he doesn’t,
Washington’s still our first President.” Franklin looked at Eleanor over the
wire rims of his spectacles. “He’s a guest, yes—and now our ally—but we’re
going to be negotiating quite a few things while he’s here. Might not be a bad
idea to remind him who won the Revolutionary War.” He slipped a morsel of bacon
to Fala, who wagged her tail in appreciation.
“But why didn’t you tell me, Franklin? And I can’t find Mrs. Nesbitt anywhere. What are
we going to serve on such short notice? She’s a mediocre enough cook as it is.
If only I’d known….”
There was the sound of heavy footsteps, then a knock
at the open door. It was the President’s chief butler, Alonzo Fields, a tall, gracious, and dignified black
man, well over six feet tall and two-hundred and fifty pounds. Roosevelt noticed him waiting at the door and lowered
the emotional temperature.
“Now, Eleanor, all that little woman would do even if
she were here, is to tell Fields what we can tell him ourselves right now.” He
looked to his butler. “Fields, have your staff prepare the bedrooms for the
Prime Minister and some of his party. And if you see Mrs. Nesbitt, tell her to
find Mrs. Roosevelt. We’ll need dinner for twenty at eight, maybe nine.”
“Yes, sir.”
Eleanor blinked. “My word, Franklin, I don’t think
you realize how much work a visit from a foreign dignitary takes! And with
Tommy on Christmas vacation, Blanche didn’t show up for work today. She didn’t
even call—it’s not like her.”
“I’m sure she’s fine. And let the
staff take care of everything. It’s their job.”
Mr. Fields had waited. “Anything
else, Sir? Ma’am?”
“Thank you. That’s all,” said the
President. Fields left, his tread heavy on the hall floors.
“As First Lady, it all reflects on
me. And in addition to my column, I have a press conference today—”
“I know you’ll do a bang-up job,
Babs.”
His use of her nickname softened her
edge a bit. But not her focus. “But Tommy’s visiting her family for Christmas.”
Malvina “Tommy” Thompson was the secretary who usually took dictation for the
First Lady’s “My Day” newspaper columns.
The President kept his eyes on the newspaper, but the
First Lady would not be put off. “And Franklin, have you had a chance to look
at my letter to the Governor of Virginia, regarding the impending execution of
Wendell Cotton?”
The President sighed. “If you
haven’t noticed, dear, we’re at war. I have more on my plate with the Japs and
the Huns than I know what to do with. And now, with Winston coming….”
“A man’s life is at stake!” Franklin Delano
Roosevelt was President, but Eleanor Roosevelt was the matriarch of the family
and a political force in her own right. Not only was she the President’s eyes
and ears for places his wheelchair couldn’t take him, but she was a moral influence
of her own.
“I know.” Roosevelt looked up at his
wife, grey-blue eyes serious behind his pince-nez. “But I can’t afford to rile
up those boys from Dixie right now, just as we’re entering this war. We all need
to all pull together to win—North and
South. I can’t afford to antagonize a nation that only recently wanted to throw
me out of office and elect an isolationist.”
“Shouldn’t your ‘together’ include
men like Wendell Cotton? What about the Negros?” Eleanor walked over and sat at
the foot of her husband’s bed. “This is their war, too, you know.”
“You know what they say about us in
the South—‘you kiss the Negroes, I’ll kiss the Jews, and we’ll stay in the
White House As long as we choose.’ And I simply can’t afford to alienate Dixie any
more, especially now that we’re at war.”
The first lady gave a sad, disapproving
look. Fala sniffed for more bacon.
Roosevelt sighed. “I’m doing the
best I can, Babs.”
Mrs. Roosevelt knew when the President had had
enough. “I’m going to put Mr. Churchill in the Rose bedroom, what do you
think?”
“Perfecto, my dear.” He didn’t look
up, but his voice was a few degrees warmer.
Mrs. Roosevelt’s gaze went to the
cluster of photographs on the fireplace’s mantel. Their boys were grown and in
the military. They wouldn’t be home for Christmas this year. “It’s been two
weeks since Pearl Harbor. It’s so strange to have Christmas with the country at
war. And without the boys,” she said. “And without your mother, too, of
course.”
They both looked to the President’s
black armband, worn in honor of his mother, Sara Delano Roosevelt, who had died
that September.
“And your brother.” The President
cleared his throat. “Well, I have the feeling the atmosphere will be
considerably energized when The Prime gets here.” He signed a few documents
with a flourish, then looked up at his wife again, the twinkle back in his
eyes. “You have no idea how much energy he has.”
“Is that what you call him? ‘The
Prime’?”
“Indeed.”
“Well, then I’ll do everything to
get ready for him and his staff. We’ll put him and his detective and valet up
here, and the rest can stay at the Mayflower Hotel—I’ll have Mr. Fields call
over. And what do you think he’d like for dinner tonight when he gets in?”
“I’m sure anything you choose will
be splendid, my darling. Just make sure to have plenty of wine and scotch on
hand. The Prime likes his whiskey. And of course I’ll make Martinis during
Children’s Hour.”
Eleanor grimaced. Her father had
been an alcoholic and alcoholism had just claimed the life of her brother. She
rarely touched spirits herself, only indulging in one of her husband’s
Old-Fashioneds once in a blue moon. “I’ll see what I can do.”
The President pulled a red cord that
would summon his valet. “I’m going to the airport to greet Winston and his
crew.”
“You’re going yourself?” Eleanor
sounded worried. “Can’t you send someone else and then greet him here?”
“The Prime and his staff have been on
a ship dodging Nazi submarines for two weeks—and they’ve only just docked in Boston.
I think the least I can do to show up at the airport.”
 |
| Tina Berning |
Eleanor turned to go, but stopped in
the doorframe. “Well, if you see Blanche, tell her I’m looking for her—will you
please, dear?” Then, “I’m worried about her. She hasn’t been herself lately.
She seems a bit…off.”
Roosevelt smiled, one of those
megawatt smiles that routinely made the newspapers’ front pages. “Babs, if I
see Blanche, I’ll be sure to send her your way.”
SUSAN ELIA MACNEAL: Thank you for your time and attention, Reds and lovely readers. And now I'm back to work!
The young Pauli Murray, who graduated from Hunter College, worked with the NAACP, and was the first woman to graduate from Howard University's law school. She was a critic of "Jane Crow" — laws and prejudices against Black women. And Pauli Murray is the inspiration for the character Andi Martin in MRS. ROOSEVELT'S CONFIDANT. 
WUNC, the public radio station in Chapel Hill, North Caroline—Pauli Murray's home and base of Duke University's Pauli Murray Project—to the has just done a wonderful piece on Pauli Murray, called "Imp, Crusader, and Dude: The Many Identities of Pauli Murray," written by Anita Rao and Frank Stasio: 
Please give a listen and learn more about the amazing American Pauli Murray — a Black, queer, feminist hero, nearly erased from U.S. history.
