Being a blog by an overzealous researcher-fan of the 3 Great Barrymores, with particular obsessive interest in Lionel Barrymore.
Thursday, March 30, 2017
Friday, March 24, 2017
Politics, mañana, and Lionel Barrymore: An actor makes political hay in spite of himself.
Lionel Barrymore was rather tastelessly taunted for his disability in 1944 by Secretary
of the Interior Harold Ickes, a Franklin D. Roosevelt “attack dog” and,
claimeth an article by Westbrook Pegler, “visiting crutch-kicker”:
Fowler's purple prose was rather astonishing, but I have read of this particular moment in time, which Lionel Barrymore did not let bother him, though it bothered others intensely.
This is the picture to which Ickes referred (Philadelphia Inquirer, Sept. 24, 1944):
Lionel Barrymore, Republican?
There’s no doubt Mr. B was a fiscal Republican of that time,
and Mr. B himself confessed to a propensity for “purple prose” when campaigning
on behalf of Dewey in California. Thomas Dewey was considered a relatively
centrist/moderate Republican (and still is), and was regarded well for his New
York anti-racketeering work. Personally,
I’m a big fan of FDR with all his foibles (yes, political too, unfortunately,
especially the massive Mistake of his), but Dewey’s platform: to widen unemployment
insurance, increase veteran care, expanding medical coverage and social
security, etc., for millions more than were covered, is downright appealing to
non-centrists! Some to many of the people who supported Dewey were also rather
frightened of an unprecedented fourth term after FDR’s already unprecedented third term as US president. I have to
admit, reading news from that time, it was a real concern, and not only over
the “arrogance” involved—Roosevelt was not well in 1944, and would not live
long into his final term.
Lionel Barrymore, however, professed a great admiration not
only for the president, but for Mrs. Roosevelt as well—the woman who had him
booted off a biopic of FDR because of what she believed he had said (and
meant). He confessed she had the right to believe he thought ill of her husband
personally, and also claimed in We
Barrymores to writing a letter from his Scottie, Jock Barrymore, to Fala
Roosevelt, the White House dog, one overly-besotten evening. Fala did not
reply, but Mr. B always hoped the pup had been able to read the sincere letter,
in which Jock invited Fala to visit and gave clear directions.
I don’t think Lionel Barrymore was any more sincerely
political or arch-conservative than many people who would be centrists today
are. He did not like the income tax, though the fact he avoided dealing with
taxes may have helped that too! His siblings were more politically liberal, but
John, Ethel, and Lionel all threw their considerable weight behind the stage
strike in the early 20th century on Broadway, and of course all
belonged to Equity. Rather, except when “het
up” in conversation (something Lew Ayres liked to do, as he was quite liberal
compared to Barrymore’s conservative take), Lionel Barrymore did not seem very
interested in sharing his political ideology or, heaven forbid, being a “role
model”. He was visibly and busily pro-American (not nativist) during WWII and
WWI, lending his considerable popularity to an enormous range of rallies and
bond sales during both periods. He indeed registered for the draft as required
in WWI, and also registered in spite of his physical disability for WWII, to
encourage others. He did everything he could do to help the Allies win a huge
war—as much as an actor could who could not, as James Stewart did, physically
go over to fight.
Ultimately, I return to his description of himself as a man “whose
yearning for mañana is exceeded only
by the yearning for more mañana.” He
wanted to do what he wanted and engage with people only as necessary. He was
reticent, happy composing, drawing, etching, or painting, playing music,
reading, and being with a few close friends. Perhaps because of his
Edwardian/Victorian childhood, he was reserved in the extreme, not terribly
demonstrative, and frankly rather a worrier if he had to think about making a
living, etc. But he was known to good
friends as generous, kind, thoughtful, and funny, even profanely so. He was
committed to two long-term relationships, and for the failure of his first, he
blamed himself totally.
So in spite of my political leaning toward Mr. Ickes/FDR, I think
I’ll find Mr. B a very engaging conversationalist in the great hereafter. I
hope my conversation will be of interest to him. I’ll keep reading!
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