SATURDAY MORNING, MARCH 4, 1933, AS THE SUN STRUGGLED lazily into position through gray clouds hurrying before the chill March winds, Washington was like a beleaguered city. All over the place high officials were up early packing their bags, ready to be off as the legions of the Grand Old Party that had occupied the city for so many years prepared to evacuate. All through the night from every region, by automobile, bus, train and plane, the happy hosts of the conquering Democrats poured into the city, hastening to take over after so many hungry years in the wilderness.
In the White House, President Hoover, a weary, and worn man, spent with the vigil of long sleepless nights as he struggled to hold back the tide of the onrushing crisis, was at his desk early for the last dreary duties before laying down his intolerable burden and surrendering the capital into the hands of his gay and laughing successor, already astir a mile away in the Mayflower Hotel.
In mid-morning, Franklin D. Roosevelt, with his wife, his mother and numerous other Roosevelts--children, aunts and uncles and cousins to the fourth degree of consanguinity, repaired from their suite in the Mayflower to St. John's Episcopal Church where Dr. Endicott Peabody, Roosevelt's old headmaster at Groton School, would invoke the blessing of the Lord upon "Thy servant Franklin." All of the new cabinet members were there also, to thank the Lord who had answered their own prayers so pleasantly.
The service over, Mr. Roosevelt, his wife and mother and his oldest son, James, in a presidential car, went quickly to the White House. The wet streets were filling with people, marching clubs,