by Michael Liss

March 3, 1933. Herbert Hoover spent his final hours in the White House in anger and despair. Angry that he’d been decisively rejected by an electorate wrongheaded enough to not realize the wisdom of his policies—even when the evidence of their efficacy had been there for all to see. Despairing that his successor Franklin Delano Roosevelt was such a dilettante, an unworthy lightweight at a time when all serious men understood the necessity for prudence, for careful adherence to sound principles and practices.
He was also profoundly worried. “The Great Engineer” could see that the cracks in the foundation that he had so carefully begun to mend were giving way. Unemployment remained stubbornly high. Europe was deeply unstable and calling home from the U.S. its reserves of gold. Currency was increasingly scarce, and there was an acute loss of confidence in the domestic banking system—many banks could not meet the demand for cash. Without sufficient cash, the economy would completely seize up, and any scrip that might be issued in lieu of it would cause rampant inflation.
Hoover thought he knew the reason: His leadership was coming to an end. The clear policy statements he had made over the course of the previous year—indeed his efforts ever since the Crash itself—had painfully, but certainly, eased the economy back from the brink. Now, he believed all that good was being undone by the public’s anxiety that FDR would abandon his proven approach.
It’s not as if Hoover hadn’t warned the electorate: In his October 31, 1932 campaign speech in Madison Square Garden, he laid out the stakes: elect FDR and “[t]he grass will grow in streets of a hundred cities, a thousand towns; the weeds will overrun the fields of millions of farms if that protection be taken away. Their churches, their hospitals, and their schoolhouses will decay.” Read more »

Adlai Stevenson, in the concession speech he gave after being thoroughly routed by Ike in the 1952 Election, referenced a possibly apocryphal quote by Abraham Lincoln: “He felt like a little boy who had stubbed his toe in the dark. He said that he was too old to cry, but it hurt too much to laugh.”