Dear Milton: Of course, I realize that I shall never be able to follow up each of your acts of assistance to me with a proper word of appreciation and thanks. In the first place, I would never be able to express adequately the degree of dependence that I feel on your wisdom and judgment and devotion--in the second place, I am selfish enough to expect your help to be almost a continuous thing.
Nevertheless, I must say that, in the case of the speech which I am to give within a couple of hours, you have transformed it from something that I almost hated into a document that may be of real value.1 At least I don't resent it.
I hope--and pray--that it contains no blunders that will later arise. The only two items in which I think such could happen are the order to the Seventh Fleet2 and the removal of price controls. In both cases, I believe our contemplated action to be correct; the unpredictable ingredient is public reaction, both here and abroad. In any event, I go on the theory that the Executive of this nation must depend upon the finest set of brains he can mobilize around him. By and large, he must follow the advice of these people or, in the long run, he will so discourage them as to make them useless in a pinch.
Mamie and I were scarcely home from church yesterday when we began to get evidence that the pastor was trying to extract the maximum publicity from the fact that we joined his particular church.3 You will recall that I communicated to you some of my uneasiness about his preliminary actions. But he had very clearly and flatly made a promise to me that "there would be the minimum of publicity--everything would be most quietly done."
The first thing I resented was his announcing our names to the congregation. This may have been necessary under the Presbyterian ritual--of that, I am not sure. But one thing is certain--he did not tell me so, in advance. He allowed me to understand that no announcement of any kind would be made. He stressed the fact that the whole affair would take place in front of a very small group of men (as it did) and that would be the end of the matter.
But assuming that all this was to be anticipated, imagine my shock to find that he called up Jim Hagerty, immediately after the second service on Sunday morning, to ask Jim's approval of a press release.4 Jim objected strenuously, and the pastor came to see him. During their talk, it developed that Dr. Elson had already given out copies of the release to the AP and to the UP.5 There was nothing to do.
I recite this at some length merely to show you why I grow more and more dependent upon my instinct in judging people. During the war, I became almost arbitrary in refusing to employ anyone of whom I did not instinctively approve. Every time I do violate my personal hunches, I regret it.
Oh well–As ever
