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saw me cry - ever, except that one time. That evening I cried all the time. I just couldn't stop. People would say, “Now what is the matter? What can I do for you?” I would cry some more and was utterly unable to explain why I was crying. To this day I don't know why I was crying, except that it just seemed as though I didn't want to go. I didn't want to venture out onto this great sea of the unknown.

I suppose I had instinctively the feeling that I was going to be subjected to rough criticism that I hadn't gotten in the State of New York. I had always gotten away with things. Everybody had always been very pleasant about everything, even though I was the first woman. They had been nice about it. I had a feeling there was more in the Congressional and Washington picture than I had been accustomed to. I felt that if I did something that was the least bit outre, or if I made some error of judgment about my political responsibilities, there would be terrible hysteria against me. I suppose I felt all that. Anyhow, I hated to face that and I hated giving up what had become a relatively satisfactory situation.

I went through two days of saying to myself, “Why should I do it? I won't do it. I don't have to do it. I can still call him up.”

Every now and then it flits through my memory that I did call Roosevelt up and that he roared with laughter. I