Truman campaigns for Stevenson in the 1952 election
TrumanHarry S. Truman campaigned for Adlai E. Stevenson in the 1952 presidential election even though the nominee repeatedly kept him at a distance. After an initially strained handoff, Truman threw himself into the contest with renewed energy, turning the campaign into a defense of his presidency and its policies. His effort could not overcome Dwight D. Eisenhower’s personal appeal or the political force of the Korean War, but it revealed both Truman’s loyalty to his party and the limits of his influence over a successor who wanted to stand apart from him.
A strained transfer of the campaign
Stevenson was determined not to be identified as Truman’s candidate. He was troubled by what his friend George Ball described as the Truman administration’s indifferent morality and untidiness, and he sought distance through a series of conspicuous organizational decisions. He replaced Frank E. McKinney as party chairman with Stephen A. Mitchell, a Chicago attorney with little political experience, moved Democratic headquarters from Washington to Springfield, Illinois, and made no effort to seek Truman’s advice on campaign plans. These choices plainly offended Truman, who had regarded McKinney as one of the best party chairmen he had known.
Truman understood the nominee’s posture as a rebuff. In a letter he never sent, he concluded that Stevenson was embarrassed to have the President in his corner and said he would remain silent in Washington. Stevenson’s reply to a newspaper editor asking whether he could clean up Washington gave Republicans a useful way to depict the administration as a mess, and Truman privately judged that the exchange had made the campaign ridiculous. He also rejected a later suggestion, conveyed by Mitchell, that Secretary of State Dean Acheson announce plans to retire after the election. The request would have made the administration’s personnel an issue on the nominee’s terms, while Truman was unwilling to endorse it.
Yet personal hurt did not settle the relationship. Truman was more saddened than angry, his daughter Margaret recalled, and he told his staff that Stevenson would get straightened out and that the campaign had not really started. On August 12, Truman invited Stevenson to the White House for lunch with the Cabinet and a briefing on the state of the Union. Over three hours, he repeatedly offered to help while emphasizing that Stevenson was in charge and that he did not intend to direct or dominate the campaign. Stevenson remarked that Truman seemed to want victory more than he did; Truman answered that he wanted it just as much.
The brief public appearance afterward made the transfer of political authority visible. Photographers called for the Governor to wait for the President, rather than the reverse. Truman gestured toward the microphones and identified them as Stevenson’s point of contact. As Stevenson spoke, Truman barely smiled; a reporter observed a hint of tension and sadness as the President watched the nominee take over. Truman then returned to his office without lingering. The moment registered the difference between his offer of help and Stevenson’s desire to establish an independent campaign.
Back on the campaign trail
When the campaign began in September, Truman quickly set aside his injured pride and joined it with his customary enthusiasm. He regarded the election not simply as Stevenson’s contest but as a referendum on his own presidency, and he was not inclined to remain on the sidelines once the fight began. Mitchell later recalled that Truman needed no invitation: he was ready to go and put on a strong show.
Truman traveled across the country by rail aboard the Ferdinand Magellan presidential railcar, while Stevenson campaigned by plane. Their schedules were kept entirely separate, and they never appeared together on the same platform. The division suited Stevenson’s independence and left Truman to make a different kind of appeal. Stevenson offered eloquence and sustained argument; Truman presented himself as a fighter and a believer. He praised the nominee, invoked Franklin Roosevelt’s memory, criticized the Republican Party, and defended his own Fair Deal programs. His central claim was that voting Democratic served ordinary people because the party looked after their interests.
At first, Truman directed much of his criticism toward Robert Taft rather than Eisenhower. He continued to say that he liked Eisenhower as a general, but argued that the former general seemed uncertain in his political role and vulnerable to the influence of Taft and Republican conservatives. In Whitefish, Montana, Truman urged voters who admired Eisenhower to send him back to the Army. The line allowed Truman to distinguish personal regard for the military leader from opposition to the political forces he believed were guiding the Republican candidate.
The demands of the journey appeared to animate Truman. He was remembered eating fried chicken with his fingers in the railcar’s dining room, trading stories and wits with staff late at night, and washing his socks in a California hotel bathroom sink. After a day of eight speeches stretching from Ohio to upstate New York, he played the piano in Buffalo at half past one in the morning. These details stood in contrast to the campaign’s exhausting pace for his wife, daughter, and press secretary, who looked worn out as Truman returned to Washington ready to set out again. The road did not merely provide a platform; the work itself seemed to restore his energy.
The break with Eisenhower
Truman’s tone toward Eisenhower hardened as the Republican candidate attacked the administration’s foreign policy and handling of Korea. Truman believed that Eisenhower was campaigning against policies he had helped shape and implement as Army Chief of Staff and head of NATO. The removal of a tribute to George Marshall from an Eisenhower speech, after aides had led reporters to expect it, struck Truman as a betrayal of a man he deeply admired. He described the spectacle as sad and pathetic, and wished that Eisenhower had not damaged the reputation he had earned as a commander.
Truman initially cautioned himself against overdoing the attacks. But his anger grew as he considered Eisenhower’s association with Joseph McCarthy and his criticism of the administration. At Colorado Springs, Truman said the candidate’s words no longer sounded like those of the general he had known. In Muncie, Indiana, he said he had been mistaken to think Eisenhower could make a good President, because the campaign had betrayed principles Truman believed the general once held. At Utica, New York, Truman went further: he accused Eisenhower of deserting Marshall and endorsing McCarthy, whom Truman regarded as dishonest. Eisenhower was furious at the attack and vowed never to ride with Truman down Pennsylvania Avenue on inauguration day.
Korea became the campaign’s most consequential issue. Polls showed that the military stalemate worried voters, and on October 24 Eisenhower promised in a televised speech that, if elected, he would go to Korea. Truman responded that Eisenhower had previously agreed with the administration’s policy. He also challenged the idea that a general’s experience in war automatically made him suitable for civilian government, and argued that if Eisenhower knew how to end the conflict, he should say so before the election rather than wait until afterward. Truman considered the promise an improper use of a tragic situation for political advantage. Omar Bradley later recalled that Eisenhower understood the armistice negotiations well and knew a visit could not itself resolve the war.
Defeat and its limits
Truman kept campaigning through the final days and appeared to enjoy the rigorous work, but he recognized that the promise to visit Korea had changed the contest. He told press secretary Roger Tubby that they might be facing more than they could control. Eisenhower won in a landslide, carrying all but nine of the forty-eight states, including Stevenson’s Illinois and Truman’s Missouri. Korea had cut deeply into the election, but Eisenhower’s extraordinary popularity also made him an exceptionally difficult candidate to defeat. The result was an Eisenhower victory more than a general Republican triumph: the Republicans barely took control of Congress, with only a one-seat Senate margin.
Truman privately believed that probably no one could have beaten Eisenhower. Reports that he had harmed Stevenson’s prospects nevertheless hurt him. The campaign therefore ended on two distinct notes: the personal satisfaction of having returned to the political fight at full strength, and the recognition that his effort could not transfer his own political standing to a nominee who had tried to keep his distance. Truman congratulated Eisenhower and offered him use of the Independence to fly to Korea, adding a pointed qualification about whether he still intended to go. Eisenhower declined and made the trip by military aircraft later in November. Truman’s offer preserved the practical gesture of a presidential transition, while its final barb showed that the campaign’s strained relationship had not entirely been put aside.