Jack Morgan slowly rose to his feet and walked to the center of the room.
Staring into the dancing flames of the fireplace, he spoke in a low voice.
“I think it’s time we sent the White House a warning.
They need to understand that just because the President’s last name is Roosevelt, and just because he’s moved into the White House, doesn’t mean he can do whatever he wants—especially not to us.” No one objected.
Their silence was agreement.
Morgan turned, his gaze settling on the man who had remained seated in the corner throughout the discussion without saying a word.
William Randolph Hearst.
America’s newspaper king, owner of dozens of papers including the San Francisco Examiner and the New York Daily News, with a readership that numbered in the millions.
His newspapers could make anyone famous—or destroy anyone just as easily.
In the United States, his name was synonymous with information and public opinion.
“Hearst, what do you think?” “Well…” Although Hearst maintained an excellent personal relationship with Roosevelt, he couldn’t refuse in front of everyone present.
Doing so would mean openly placing himself on the opposite side of all of them.
Outside, night was falling.
Washington’s streetlights flickered on one by one, their dim yellow glow spreading through the fog like blurred periods at the end of a sentence.
The lights inside the Treasury Building burned through the night.
So did those in the drawing room of the mansion on K Street.
On that same night, two battlefronts quietly opened at once…
…
In 1933 America, television and the internet had yet to become commonplace.
The kind of modern communication capable of delivering information instantly to every household simply didn’t exist.
As a result, when a celebrity, politician, or even the President made a public statement, whether their words actually reached people across the country depended almost entirely on how the press reported them.
And in the age when newspapers ruled, many publishers, eager to grab attention and boost circulation, routinely quoted people out of context or deliberately twisted their meaning to create more sensational “news.” Once words left a person’s mouth, they no longer belonged to the speaker.
They became material that could be trimmed, magnified, or even distorted.
Take Roosevelt’s speech yesterday, for example.
He had said that, if necessary, he would ask Congress for emergency wartime powers.
Anyone who had been there and heard the full context could easily understand why.
The President just wants the tools he needs to solve the crisis.
But today’s front-page headline in the San Francisco Examiner read: ROOSEVELT DECLARES: HE WILL SEEK EMERGENCY WARTIME POWERS FROM CONGRESS!
Technically, those were Roosevelt’s own words.
But there was no explanation.
No context.
No background whatsoever.
So what would the public think?
They would only conclude that Roosevelt had barely taken office and, instead of trying to solve the country’s countless problems, was already obsessed with expanding his own power.
Or take another example.
Yesterday, Roosevelt had argued that the nation’s collapse had been caused by a handful of “money changers.” Today’s headline in the Chicago Tribune instead proclaimed: PRESIDENT HOSTILE TO ALL BUSINESSMEN, PLANS TO CRACK DOWN ON THE ENTIRE BUSINESS COMMUNITY.
Meanwhile, the Detroit Free Press ran: ROOSEVELT: FEAR ISN’T OUR ONLY ENEMY—UNEMPLOYMENT IS!
That kind of reporting immediately stirred public outrage in several cities, where demonstrations quickly broke out.
…
The White House.
“Yesterday’s inaugural address…” Roosevelt asked, frowning.
“Was it impossible for anyone outside Washington to hear what I actually said?” The barrage of distorted and mocking headlines had Roosevelt, seated behind the Resolute Desk in the Oval Office, on the verge of exploding.
“Mr.
President, based on the information I have so far, Hearst is behind this.
He owns dozens of newspapers across the country.
If he wants them reported a certain way, we…” Louis Howe, the White House’s media adviser, stopped himself from saying the words there’s nothing we can do.
“Mr.
President, Hearst’s newspapers have enormous circulation and millions of readers.
In many parts of the country, people never get to read the full text of your speech.
All they ever see is the version his papers have edited.” Press Secretary Stephen Early added his own explanation.
Roosevelt frowned.
During his presidential campaign, it had been Hearst’s newspapers that had championed him, shaping his image as a man of the people while attacking his opponents.
Back then, Hearst had been his ally.
His mouthpiece.
His sharpest weapon in the battle for public opinion.
He had never expected that same weapon to be turned against him.
Roosevelt closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
Yesterday’s speech—especially his fierce condemnation of the money changers—had undoubtedly struck a nerve.
Morgan.
Rockefeller.
DuPont.
None of them were going to sit back and do nothing.
And Hearst had clearly launched this media offensive under pressure from those men.
“Let’s go to the Treasury.” …
The Treasury Building.
The moment the door opened, everyone inside looked up and instinctively rose to their feet.
“How’s the bill coming along?” Roosevelt was wheeled into the room.
“We’re making steady progress.
The first draft of the bank classification standards will be finished tonight.
The administrative authorization provisions should be completed tomorrow morning, and the rest of the bill is moving forward in parallel.
But overall, we still need more time.” William answered.
“Take a look at these.” Roosevelt gestured for his aide to place several newspapers on the table.
“These are Hearst’s papers.
They’ve badly twisted what I said yesterday.
Now people are already taking to the streets in Chicago, Los Angeles, San Francisco…
several cities.” “And they’re demanding that I resign immediately.” When he spoke those last words, Roosevelt wore a self-deprecating smile.
It was bitterly ironic.
A president who had been in office for only a single day was already being asked to step down by many of the very people who had supported him.
William and the others each picked up a newspaper.
After skimming the headlines, their expressions darkened.
“My concern is this: by the time we’ve finished drafting the bill, will we still have the public’s trust?
If they’ve completely seized control of public opinion, if the people no longer believe in me as their president, then no matter how good the bill is, it’ll be nothing more than a stack of worthless paper.” “The President is right,” William immediately agreed.
“We have to find a way to rein Hearst in first.
Otherwise, by the time the bill is finished and submitted to Congress, he may have completely distorted public opinion.
At that point, even if the bill itself is flawless, the public will reject it before they even know what’s in it.” Ballantine rested his chin on one hand.
“But Hearst controls too many newspapers.
He’s got papers on the East Coast, throughout the Midwest, and on the West Coast.
If he’s determined to keep this up, I’m afraid it’ll be very difficult to stop him…” “With all due respect,” Francis said, breaking the silence he had maintained until now, “I don’t think we need to waste our time confronting him at all.” Everyone turned to look at him.
William spoke first.
“Francis, what do you mean by that?” —