The moment he received the certificate of his nomination, Mr. Hoover sent Mr. Morrow a glowing telegram of assured support, congratulations, and best wishes for success. Of course, Mr. Hoover knew when he sent this telegram that the one thing, above all others, Mr. Morrow was going to try to do when he got in the Senate was to repeal the prohibition amendment to the Constitution of the United States. This was a curious telegram from the noble apostle of the still nobler experiment--prohibition--to the avowed enemy who is planning his ignoble assault upon Mr. Hoover's noble experiment.
But to my text. It is taken from the first letter of Dwight Morrow to the Republicans of America now sitting in the bondage of political despair somewhere in the suburbs of Egyptian darkness.
Mr. Morrow says--and here is my text--"If the Republican party claimed the credit for abundant and seasonal rain, it must also shoulder the blame for unprecedented and destructive drought." This is just another way of saying if we promised bread and gave a stone, we now must take our medicine. In other words, Mr. Morrow is saying that we Republicans promised to carry the American people to Canaan's fair and happy land of prosperity toward which they cast a wistful eye, and lo and behold! we have landed them in the ditch of depression and mired them down in the stagnant waters of bankruptcy and ruin; that we promised them a land filled with milk and honey, and we are engaged in the unhappy business of organizing soup kitchens in every city and town of this Nation, and the worst thing about it all is "we ain't got no soup." I stand uncovered in the presence of Dwight W. Morrow. He is no fugitive from the truth.
I do not know what Republicans will talk about in 1932, but I guarantee it will not be Hoover prosperity --a job for every man with a will to work--two auto-