Becoming Madam Secretary

“‘Why economics?’ I echoed gamely. ‘Because many people in America believe poverty is a moral problem having to do with sloth or some other sin we can blame on individuals. But I believe poverty in America is an economic problem that can be solved…and I intend to solve it.’”

One of Frances’s most admirable qualities is her ability to articulate exactly why she supports the policies that she does. This trait gains importance throughout her career, as Franklin will eventually rely on her to give speeches supporting their platform.

“If somebody opens a door of opportunity for you, it’s the Lord’s will, she always said. So walk right in and do the best you can.”

Throughout Frances’s career, she faces important, difficult moments where she considers quitting her career in public service. However, her determination and conviction lead powerful figures to recognize her potential, and these established leaders—including New York Governor Al Smith and President Franklin D. Roosevelt—become powerful allies in Perkins’s fight for social justice.

“What I learned in my graduate lectures was amply demonstrated here at Hartley House—that industrialization, which ought to have modernized and elevated the lot of mankind, was instead plunging people into impoverishment.”

The early 20th century was a time of immense change, both technologically and societally. These changes created new avenues of oppression but also allowed the possibility for women such as Frances to begin to gain power and effect systemic reform.

“I’ve seldom been struck speechless in my life, but I was then. The Consumers’ League was no tin-pot operation like the one I’d run in Philadelphia. This was the sort of job I’d only dreamed of. And now Mrs. Kelley explained, ‘We’ll want you to lobby the state legislature to pass a bill limiting the workweek for women to fifty-four hours.’”

The 54-hour bill is Frances’s first major project and ends up being her first major accomplishment in politics, tempered by the concessions she needs to make along the way. However, despite the negotiations, Frances’s accomplishments are recognized by Florence Kelley, who helps to support her for the rest of her career.

“‘Oh, Franklin can’t win an election,’ Mary insisted. ‘Not even the Roosevelts take him seriously. Eleanor is devoted to him, but others in the family call him Feather Duster Roosevelt.’”

In the early part of his career, Frances doesn’t take Franklin seriously since he comes across as disconnected from the common person and blinded by privilege. However, Franklin’s character arc bends him toward his future presidential career, as his polio seems to give him more perspective and maturity.

“Mrs. Kelley patted my cheek with the motherly affection I’d craved all my life. ‘My dear girl, making a few enemies is how you know you’re doing things right.’”

Frances frequently makes enemies in politics. On the one hand, making enemies is inevitable when pursuing disruptive social reforms. On the other hand, the narrative makes it clear that part of the antipathy directed toward her is due to her gender rather than her policies, highlighting the importance of Resistance in the Face of Sexist Discrimination.

“So very much. Because to be loved, really loved, one must be known, and I find that terrifying. In truth, I think it takes courage—real spiritual daring—to allow oneself to be known.”

Though Frances is a public figure, she maintains her privacy from the media. She also tends to hide her true intentions from the people she loves, which makes this admission to Paul all the more striking.

“I loved Paul. I loved him deeply and felt I always would. That made me want to throw my arms around his neck and say yes right away. But thinking about it made me wonder if love was enough reason for marriage. As a woman, wasn’t my situation rather out of the ordinary?”

As a woman working in politics, Frances occupies an unusual position for the time. As a result, she fears the loss of independence and autonomy that accompanies marriage for most women of her era. In wondering “if love [i]s enough reason for marriage,” she considers the tension between love and ambition.

“Though it left me vulnerable to the charge of my more radical friends that I’d gone over to the bourgeoisie, Paul and I moved into a beautiful redbrick house on Washington Place West. I had never lived somewhere so grand, and it was a bit of a shock because I’d become accustomed to living in cramped little flats with shared bathroom facilities. Suddenly, I had servants, more furniture than I knew what to do with, and expectations that I’d play society hostess.”

Throughout her career, Frances feels a tension between her past as a radical left-wing activist and her present as a member of the establishment. As a result, she has a difficult transition between living situations, as she feels guilty about living in luxury while others struggle with hardships.

“Later, Paul stroked my hair in the darkness of our room, and I thought, I could’ve lost him too. I’d lost my baby and nearly lost my husband in one day. The realization made me cold all over. Before I married, I’d only ever had to worry about myself. Thus, I’d never known true fear. Or true grief. Or that both needed to be shared…”

Highlighting the motif of family illness, Paul survives an assassination attempt against the mayor of New York City. Though he’s uninjured, the event brings into focus the dangers that Frances and Paul face as controversial public figures.

“I’d miscarried once, then given birth to a dead child, and was now almost assuredly barren. Meanwhile my handsome vigorous husband—with his limitless political future—was tethered to me. I’d lose him. If not to a madman’s bullet, then to some other woman eventually. And under the circumstances, wouldn’t I be selfish to try to hold on to him?”

One consistent aspect of Frances’s characterization is that she underestimates her own importance to the people around her. Just as in this passage, when she thinks about leaving Paul since she believes she isn’t good enough for him, she later threatens to quit her cabinet position over feeling unappreciated by Franklin.

“It was time for him to slow down—for both of us to rest and grow our family. After all, with Paul’s inheritance, money was not a concern. But over breakfast, he said, ‘I feel terribly useless.’”

This moment represents the first time that Paul’s depression rears its head in the narrative. His mental health struggles only get more dire throughout, providing a contrast to the extremely successful career of his wife, Frances, and showcasing the difficulties that she faces at home.

“Hardly anyone had ever heard of a woman in public office. Women couldn’t even vote in federal elections yet. But he said, ‘Of course I mean it.’

At the realization of how important this was and what attention it would garner, I shot out of my chair. I walked to the window and stared out, hanging on to the blue velvet curtain for balance. ‘Do you know what you’re offering? You ought to think it over.’”

Governor Al Smith offers Frances her first role as a public official rather than as a private activist. This is a terrifying decision for Frances because it will put her in the high-stress position of representing women as leaders to the general public, highlighting the theme of Resistance in the Face of Sexist Discrimination.

“The conductor looked truly terrified for me. And ordinarily, that might not have given me pause. I’d always flung myself in harm’s way. I’d earned a reputation, after all, as a dauntless woman.”

An aspect of Frances’s characterization is her bravery. There are moments in the narrative in which Frances puts herself into physical danger in order to pursue her policies. Through her bravery, she manages to make the men around her respect her courage and tactics—an important aspect of her Resistance in the Face of Sexist Discrimination.

“I think I might have bankrupted the city, he confided in me at one point, apparently having forgotten that he wasn’t working in city hall anymore. Then he confessed other lapses that, upon investigation, also had no basis in fact. He feared he might’ve allowed a corrupt policeman to go unreported, and I had to remind him that he’d actually brought about that policeman’s disciplinary action. Then Paul feared he hadn’t paid some debts we owed, frantically poring over our records only to find that everything had been paid in full. It was maddening for both of us.”

Paul’s struggles with his mental health become a significant factor in Frances’s life. One aspect of his depression is the blame he puts on himself for all the problems in his life, even if that blame is irrational. This contrasts with Frances’s career and public persona, in which she deals with data and facts to come to logical conclusions, making it very difficult for her to help Paul through his struggles.

“On the night he was to give his speech, I was nervous as a cat watching him arrive. The crowd cheered as he made his way up the aisle. And, to my surprise, seeing Frank brought a lump into my throat. I honestly never thought Frank had it in him to make himself so vulnerable. I was also overcome with sympathy by how much polio had ravaged him. The Franklin Delano Roosevelt I knew was strong, muscular, handsome, and vigorous. Now he was pale, thin, and trembling.

Still, what a performance he put on!”

This passage illustrates Frances’s evolving perspective on Franklin, revealing her growing respect and empathy for him as she witnesses his resilience in the face of physical adversity. The vivid contrast between the strong, vigorous Franklin of the past and the pale, trembling figure at the podium underscores the transformative impact of his illness while simultaneously highlighting his ability to overcome these challenges and maintain his powerful public presence.

“As I walked through the park, I gave the rest of my quarters to a pair of gaunt old women wearing once-fashionable hats who had been pawing through garbage cans for a bite to eat. They reminded me of my mother and my grandmother. Women who lived good, respectable lives, who might have, but for a twist of fate, been forced to scavenge through rotting fruit to survive.

It was an utter indictment of this country.”

This passage illustrates Frances’s deep empathy for those facing poverty and her acute awareness of the precarious nature of economic security, even for those who have lived “good, respectable lives.” By drawing a parallel between these destitute women and her own family members, Frances personalizes the widespread suffering caused by the Great Depression, underscoring her motivation to implement sweeping social reforms. Frances reframes poverty as a failing of the nation rather than one of personal morality.

“Determined to get started, I rattled a drawer to fill it with pens and paper. It was stuck, and I had to yank hard to get it open. When I did, a creature jumped out at me. I leapt back, thinking it was a mouse, only to realize it was a cockroach, the largest I’d ever seen.

Well, that did it. It wasn’t going to be enough to get Hoover’s people to vacate the place; we’d have to literally sweep them out and scrub it down.”

This moment serves as a metaphor for the disorder of the Department of Labor that Frances inherits, symbolizing the entrenched problems and outdated practices left behind by the previous administration. The stark imagery of the enormous cockroach emerging from the drawer not only highlights the literal need for cleaning but also represents the figurative “housecleaning” that Frances must undertake to reform the department.

“While he was in a good mood, I felt as if I better let the president know what I’d done. Fortunately, my brazen behavior gave him a big laugh. ‘Oh, Frances. I have a flotilla of burly Secret Service agents carrying pistols, but you’re the one who goes up against the crooks, armed with nothing but a handbag. You’re lucky nothing happened. What possessed you to confront men like that?’

I laughed. ‘Old instincts, even if they’re a little rusty.’”

This exchange between Frances and Franklin highlights Frances’s boldness and resourcefulness, traits that have characterized her approach to problem-solving throughout her career. The contrast between Frances’s confrontation of corrupt officials with just her handbag and Franklin’s armed security detail underscores her unique blend of courage and practicality, while her reference to “old instincts” serves as a reminder of her roots in social work and activism.

“On the way out, Eleanor gave my hand an unexpected squeeze. ‘Frances, at least you won’t have to worry about the ladies of the press corps asking after your husband. When one of them tried to press me on the matter, I let it be known—discreetly—that your husband is in a condition that would be impolite to write about, and they’ve promised me they’ll steer clear of it. I’m sure they know that any of them who doesn’t…well, they won’t be invited to my weekly press conferences ever again.’

There were, it seemed, very great advantages to being friendly with the First Lady. And as difficult as it sometimes was to navigate that friendship, I was unutterably grateful for it.”

This passage illustrates the complex dynamics of female solidarity and power in the male-dominated world of the 1930s, showcasing the cooperative nature of Resistance in the Face of Sexist Discrimination. Eleanor’s intervention on Frances’s behalf regarding her husband’s condition demonstrates the informal yet potent channels through which women in positions of influence can support each other while also highlighting the personal sacrifices and challenges that Frances faces in balancing her public role with her private struggles.

“Bonnie and Clyde were robbing stores and gas stations. Pretty Boy Floyd was breaking into banks and allegedly setting fire to people’s mortgages. John Dillinger and his gang were in shoot-outs with FBI agents.

And it was all my fault…Or so said the letters to the editor in the newspaper that blamed my allegedly lax policy on immigration.”

Frances faces intense public scrutiny and often unfair criticism in her role as Secretary of Labor during a time of social upheaval and economic distress. The juxtaposition of notorious criminal activities with accusations about her immigration policies highlights the tendency to scapegoat public figures for complex societal issues. It also underscores the challenges that Frances faces in implementing progressive policies in a conservative political climate.

“Sometimes the president could be so worldly and clever, and other times as innocent as a child. But he was also filled with compassion—genuine compassion.”

This juxtaposition of seemingly contradictory traits—worldliness and innocence, cleverness and compassion—highlights the multifaceted nature of Franklin’s personality and leadership style. Frances’s observation suggests that these varied qualities contribute to Franklin’s effectiveness as a leader, implying that his ability to balance political savvy with genuine empathy is key to his success in navigating the challenges of the Great Depression era.

“Mary had recently been more of a partner to me than Paul. And without her, I somehow felt a stranger in my own skin. Before she died, she’d asked, Isn’t it a great comfort to know that we’ll always have each other?

Now that comfort had been obliterated.

I didn’t know how there could be life after Mary here in Washington, where we’d lived together for nearly two of the most difficult years of my life. Mary had played the role of hostess, advisor, friend, guardian, and even substitute parent to my child. Now what would I do without her?”

This passage illustrates the profound impact of Mary Rumsey’s death on Frances, revealing the depth of their friendship and the crucial support that Mary provided in Frances’s personal and professional lives. Frances’s sense of being “a stranger in [her] own skin” without Mary emphasizes the extent to which their friendship had become an integral part of her identity and coping mechanism in Washington, underscoring the personal sacrifices and emotional toll of her public service.