Calls Wallace Campaign Very Frightening

Westbrook Pegler

Roanoke Rapids Daily Herald/October 1, 1948


The rally of the Communists at the Yankee Stadium on the night of Sept. 10 was the official beginning of the presidential campaign of Bubblehead Wallace in New York. The entire folly curled up and died just eleven days later when El Stupo got up at a dinner at the Commodore Hotel and announced that he and Mrs. Wallace were planning to be “just plain bourgeois” after election day.

The Wallace episode of 1948 has been amusing and frightening, both. But on the profit side we find the fact firmly established at last that in 1940 Franklin D. Roosevelt and the sordid gang of political bums around him knowingly exposed the trustful people of the United States to the risk of incurring by his death a President who had secretly mingled with a dangerous cult of adventures in black magic, dream-stuff & cosmic confusion. Until 18 months ago, all the survivors of this bad crowd of common selfish professionals and treacherous schemes in Roosevelt’s circle were able to keep this truth quiet. But Charlie Michelson, the press agent for the Democratic Party, in his memoirs couldn’t resist the temptation to ridicule both Wallace and Harry Hopkins. He had been jealous of Hopkins and took occasion to deride Hopkins’ alarm over the private circulation of the Goofy Guru letters in 1940. He said they were of doubtful authenticity but he knew there was absolutely no doubt as to whether or not they were authentic, and he knew that Hopkins had good reason to be jumpy.

In failing to publish the information Michelson died loyal to an evil political force which may yet prove to have destroyed the integrity of the United States. We don’t know yet whether the cement has crumbled. The same accusation of prior loyalty to Roosevelt’s party lies against all the famous men and women, official and unofficial, some of them posing as silent wise guys and elders of the nation, who knew of this terrible situation but kept quiet. If all the evidence against Henry Wallace is true, and I am prepared to prove that most of it is, these people had a patriotic duty to dare the wrath of Roosevelt and warn the voters.

It was the worst default of civic and patriotic duty in the history of the United States. History will take note of the episode but perhaps without sufficient abhorrence of the conduct of the people, apparently at least a hundred of them. The soldier little notes nor long remembers the shell that didn’t hit him.

Although Wallace speaks of building a “Party” around himself for 1952, the danger from him expired after the four final years when the vain Roosevelt was hurrying to his doom. The danger ended in the 1944 convention. Wallace will not be useful even to the Communist in 1952. He is a sucked egg.

Rebecca West, the English writer, took a chance that American journalists avoided when she described the ugly people who formed the Wallace crowd at his “Convention” in Philadelphia. I have no idea whether she is a beauty or less than such. But, however that may be she was courageous and correct. The retorts that beauty is only skin-deep and that Miss West ain’t no orchid had nothing to do with the fact that there was in this wanton, licentious mob of unsightly European continental slum creatures, and parroting bumptious American Negroes, these cuddling neurotic wayward American campus girls, a loathsome mass personality. So many of the white or sallow brothers and sisters were so distinctly European, their conduct so reminiscent of political wolfpacks in the streets of European cities before fascism, that one wondered whether Wallace was craftily trying to foment riots.

Such was the character of many of the crowd at his rally in the Yankee Stadium. A large proportion of these nasty juvenile delinquents were not voters at all. Wallace, a most moral fellow, may shrug off personal responsibility for the mischief obviously in the making among these bad young girls and men. It was the dirtiest crowd that ever befouled the Yankee Stadium. The management had exacted $6,000 for expenses. Cleaning up the filth, chiefly millions of fragments of torn newspaper, cost all of the $6,000.

Like any promoter running a prizefight, Wallace withheld his main event, himself, in his dressing room from 9:30 until 11, while the collectors hustled the crowd for contributions. Many of the check contributions could have been faked, of course.

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