name in the family!”
At this point a door that connected Susie Parish’s house to the matching house of her mother next door was thrown open, and the wedding party was introduced to the larger crowd at the reception. Theodore, who could never resist an audience, strode forward and hypnotized the guests in his usual fashion. Years later, Eleanor recalled the moment distinctly: “Those closest to us did take time to wish us well, but the great majority of the guests were far more interested in the thought of being able to see and listen to the President; and in a very short time this young married couple were standing alone.” Eleanor of course said nothing, although she surely hoped that her new husband would speak up. But he was as smitten as the rest. “I cannot remember that even Franklin seemed to mind.”
How she felt beyond that, she didn’t say. But the experience couldn’t have eased her lifelong insecurities, and if she thought she saw her future in the sight of her husband drawn irresistibly toward politics, in preference to her, she could have been forgiven.
3.
F RANKLIN R OOSEVELT PROBABLY COULDN’T HAVE IDENTIFIED PRECISELY when he began to model himself on Cousin Ted—or Uncle Ted, as the president became upon Franklin’s marriage to Eleanor. Perhaps it was during one of Franklin’s visits to the Roosevelt White House, as the younger man looked around and imagined himself living there. Perhaps it was at the wedding, when Franklin experienced the magnetic attraction of political power. Doubtless Sara suggested, likely often, that if one Roosevelt could reach the pinnacle of American politics, another Roosevelt could, too.
Whatever its origin, Franklin’s emulation of Theodore shaped his personal and professional life for decades, and it manifested itself soon after his wedding. Theodore had gone from Harvard to Columbia Law School. Franklin did the same. Theodore had found law school dull and dropped out before finishing. So did Franklin—although in his case he took and passed the New York bar exam, something Theodore never accomplished. Columbia president Nicholas Murray Butler later chided Franklin Roosevelt for not completing his degree. “You will never be able to call yourself an intellectual until you come back to Columbia and pass your law exams,” Butler said. Roosevelt answered with a laugh: “That just shows how unimportant the law really is.”
His job search began in the obvious places: the clubs, dining rooms, and salons of those he knew socially. Lewis Ledyard was commodore of the New York Yacht Club, besides being a leading partner in one of the most powerful law firms on Wall Street. Edmund Baylies was a partner in the same firm, in addition to being a member of the Yacht Club and the Knickerbocker Club and president of the Seamen’s Church Institute, a charitable organization. Franklin knew both men from the Yacht Club, of which he was a member, and he knew Baylies from the Knickerbocker, to which he also belonged, and the Seamen’s Institute, on whose board of directors he served. Baylies and Ledyard thought Roosevelt promising, and they offered him the equivalent of an apprenticeship. For a year he would work without pay. If he did well he would be placed on a small salary and on the track that led to partnership.
Roosevelt commenced his legal career with a conspicuous lack of gravity. He printed cards for the occasion:
FRANKLIN D. ROOSEVELT
C OUNSELOR AT L AW
54 W ALL S TREET
N EW Y ORK
I beg to call your attention to my unexcelled facilities for carrying on every description of legal business. Unpaid bills a specialty. Briefs on the liquor question furnished free to ladies. Race suicides cheerfully prosecuted. Small dogs chloroformed without charge. Babies raised under advice of expert grandmother etc., etc.
The principals of the firm, by contrast, took their calling quite seriously. When Roosevelt arrived, Carter, Ledyard &
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