Fdr's Son Elliott Was An Individualist Of Tremendous Energy

Those of you who came late to this century perhaps did not notice, or much care, that Elliott Roosevelt died the other day. But those of us who arrived earlier, say in the '20s and '30s, remember Mr. Roosevelt as a significant citizen.

He was very prominent at one time, principally because he was the son of our 32nd president, Franklin Delano Roosevelt.

Elliott Roosevelt was one of four sons - James, FDR Jr. and John were the others - born to Franklin and Eleanor Roosevelt. There was one daughter, Anna Roosevelt Halstead (when her former husband was publisher of The Seattle P-I, her name was Boettiger).

All are gone now, except for James. Elliott died at the age of 80.

To understand Elliott better, you have to consider his father. FDR was elected four times to the presidency by overwhelming margins. He and his family were patricians, from Hyde Park, N.Y., blood of purest blue, but he was a populist president.

He was probably one of our greatest presidents, although you will get a sputtering, angry argument on that from elder Republicans today. They hated FDR, the Democrat, and called him ``a traitor to his class.''

As a young man I can remember this venom. ``That man in the White House,'' they sneered. ``Old Moosejaw,'' an ultraconservative columnist, Westbrook Pegler, called him.

He was vilified and denounced. I remember that my own father, a rigid Maine Republican, despised FDR. So did 90 percent of the nation's media, especially William Randolph (The Real) Hearst and his chain of powerful papers. So did Henry Luce at Time magazine.

FDR's family was fair game for Roosevelt-haters. And none drew more sparks, more vilification, than Elliott Roosevelt.

``My father laughed at criticism,'' Elliott told a close friend of his, Ben Emerson. ``Much of it was mean and vicious stuff. But believe me, he laughed it off. It did not bother him. He shrugged it away.''

Emerson delights in talking about Elliott. They lived only a short distance from each other when Elliott lived for seven years in Bellevue. They played bridge together, socialized frequently, and Emerson formed a profound affection and admiration for Elliott and his fifth wife, Patty.

As it happened, I spent a delightful afternoon talking with Emerson about the Roosevelt family. Emerson is a native Northwesterner, deeply into radio announcing and sales, also in television as a salesman, before he retired in 1974.

``Elliott was kind of a rebel in this patrician family,'' Emerson said. ``For example, at Groton he refused to sign the papers that would send him to Harvard. It was automatic that Groton boys would go to Harvard.

``Elliott was adamant. The headmaster, Endicott Peabody, called FDR, who in turn called his son. `Go along,' he said, softly, meaning go to Harvard. `It's important to go along.'

``But Elliott dug in his heels. He went to Princeton.''

Elliott, in his private life, was involved in ranching, aviation, journalism, finance, public relations, real estate.

In public life he was once mayor of Miami Beach, and he was close to his father at many international conferences, including high-level meetings with Churchill, conferences at Potsdam and Yalta.

``Not many know this,'' Emerson said with a smile, ``but Elliott actually rode on the rodeo circuit.''

Elliott's writings included several books about the Roosevelt family and FDR's politics. Highly praised in some quarters, they were denounced in others and even put a strain on family relationships.

He wrote five mystery novels, all well-praised by critics. These were period stories in which his mother, the saintly Eleanor, was cast in the role of detective.

``He was aggressive in everything,'' Emerson said. ``He was an aggressive bridge player, an aggressive driver, aggressive in everything. He seemed to have an extra measure of energy.''

He was also aggressive physically. He once beat up his brother Jimmy on the steps at Groton.

``One time,'' Emerson recalls, ``he told me about going to the Stork Club with his brother FDR Jr., whom he called Frankie. They spotted Westbrook Pegler across

the room. `Let's go get him,' Elliott said.

``You have to remember that Pegler had written vicious things about both their father and their mother. So they started over and Pegler hastily left.

``They started to chase him out the door, when their way was barred by two big gorillas - Sherman Billingsley's bouncers. Billingsley, of course, owned the Stork Club, and he pleaded with Elliott.

`` `Don't do it,' he said. `Please don't do it. If you attack Pegler, all you will do is embarrass your family.' ''

Emerson recalled that at the beginning of World War II, Elliott was commissioned a captain in the Army Air Corps. This aroused Republican wrath and anti-FDR sarcasm. Signs appeared all over the nation saying, ``I want to be a captain, too.''

``What went almost unnoticed at war's end,'' Emerson said, ``is that Elliott became commander of an aerial reconnaissance wing that served in Europe.

``He flew 89 missions. He was wounded twice. Later, in 1945, he was promoted to brigadier general.''

There was the patrician in Elliott, too, as Emerson recalls him. His wife, Patty, once fussed mildly that their home wasn't quite right for some guests who had appeared. Elliott snapped angrily, ``We are not in the business of making impressions!''

Elliott once interviewed Josef Stalin for Look magazine. Asked about Stalin, he replied, ``I hate to say this, but he was quite charming.'' On the other hand, Emerson recalled: ``Elliott didn't like Churchill at all. He thought he was boorish and imperious and rude.''

``But his father, he saw as a fine, kindly man,'' Emerson said. ``A loving man, and a wonderful father. Just a very nice man.''

As Emerson tells the story, Elliott misbehaved when he was 6 or 7 years old. That evening, at Hyde Park, Eleanor Roosevelt told FDR, `Elliott has been naughty, you must punish him.' ''

So this patrician, this four-term American president, who would become the acknowledged leader of the Free World, called his son into an empty room and closed the door.

``You must not do that, Elliott,'' he said. ``Now, when I slap my thigh, remember - you must holler very loud.''

Emmett Watson's column appears Sunday, Tuesday and Thursday in the Northwest section of The Times.