Heal the sick, raise the dead, cleanse lepers, cast out demons - Matthew 10:8
The idea that a third term was in some way dictatorial motivated much of the opposition to Unterholtz.
Dark memories of the assassination of the former left-wing President William Jennings Bryan, as he geared up to campaign
for a third term, were not far from the public mindset in 1940
African Influenza spread in a ragged pattern across the United States. The nation's patchwork hospital and general practitioner network was simply overwhelmed by the spread. The infection rate soared, week after week, as local health workers compiled terrible statistics and mortuaries filled with the dead. By the summer of 1940 an estimated 40% of the population had contracted the virus and the death toll had, by June 23rd, topped one million.
Responses were hodgepodge. In Philadelphia, the local Labor Council locked the city down, to much protest from business owners and political opponents, but managed to keep their total death toll below 100 for the duration of the pandemic. In contrast St Louis, where public health officials were forced to pull back on their proposals under public backlash, the infection rate exploded. Missouri National Guardsmen were mobilized to enforce a quarantine around the city as hospitals were overwhelmed. Sportsman's Park, home of the Cardinals, was used as a massive fever hospital with local Masonic groups funding the erection of a temporary roof over the field itself. California believed itself to have escaped the infection during the early months of the year, only for April to bring a surge of outbreaks up and down the state and forcing Governor Upton Sinclair to impose travel restrictions. Controversy embroiled the State when, in June, business tycoon Howard Hughes was arrested on his private airfield after publicly breaching quarantine, flying himself in his two-seater between properties and businesses he owned across California.
With Congress's recess extended due to the crisis, all eyes turned to the White House where President Unterholtz held sway. Millions of Americans huddled around their wireless sets or visited large outdoor cinemas to hear him speak of the crisis. Utilising the growing left-wing film centre of Buffalo, New York, and its array of talent, Unterhotlz was able to craft a reassuring public presence. His dulcet Southern tones, his rough working-class inflections, endeared him to many. 'He's a President rolling up his sleeves and getting stuck in' one woman was quoted when interviewed by the
New York Times and pretty soon the re-election campaign had adopted the slogan.
But more divisive than his tones were his politics - and his methods. Accused of politicizing a crisis, the President was pushing for the biggest social reform in American History. 'Every Goddamn Doctor, every Goddamn Hospital, every Goddamn Country Nurse' he assured roaring crowds in New Orleans. 'We're going to have 'em all. Make 'em work for you - public health will be our public wealth'. Another instant slogan.
Yet the idea - effectively nationalising every medical element in the United States - was both powerful and destabilizing. For opponents it was socialism, undiluted, and massive governmental overreach. Eager to fan the flames in an election year, Unterholtz was deliberately provocative. A speech in which he promised to 'sew the mouths of Doctors shut with a golden thread' was truncated as simply 'sewing the mouths of Doctors shut' in the press and the administration was slow to correct the error. Others were concerned about his tactics - Unterholtz proposed to ram the policy through without Congress and, when asked about the Supreme Court, suggested that perhaps the public health emergency sweeping the nation required him to be given powers 'beyond those imagined by the Founding Fathers'. To his supporters it was electrifying - the promise of a better tomorrow - but for his opponents it was a contagion as deadly as the influenza.
Opposition to Unterholtz saw the erstwhile two party system break down. A fusion ticket of Republicans and Democrats was initially proposed as a rhetorical position by the junior Senator for Rhode Island, but more and more seemed vital. A temporary
Constitutional ticket was formed, both parties backing it, and a convention held. Wild speculation attended those three days in Boston but, ultimately, few could have suspected the eventual winner.
It was, in the best American tradition, a combination of smokey back-room manouvers and a thrilling speech on the convention floor that sealed the deal. The presence of the former Chief Justice, Charles Evans Hughes, twice President [1916-1920, 1920-1924] had surprised many. He was 78, a centrist Republican, and like the President they despised had already served two terms. But Hughes was a lightning rod for the discontent that swirled around America in 1940. He was liberal - with a solid track record - and fearless. 'This...' he announced in a booming speech 'is an administration of greed...of corruption...of tyranny. President Unterholtz offers us nothing more than government by organised crime'. And, with his selection, the stage was set for a bitter electoral contest in in the fall of 1940