Through the haze of history, we assume that Franklin Roosevelt, the only president to serve more than two terms, breezed into the White House in the election of 1932. Nothing could be further from the truth, not that Franklin as a young man, did not think such a thing was impossible. He modeled his career after his fifth cousin Theodore, also the beloved uncle of his wife, Eleanor.
What interrupted his path was being stricken by polio in 1921. The disease rendered him unable to walk for the remainder of his life. Historian Jonathan Darman argues in his new book, Becoming FDR: The Personal Crisis that Made a President, that polio changed his outlook forever. It happened in two ways. First, it made him sympathetic to the underprivileged, particularly fellow polio sufferers. Two, it fueled the dictum Franklin’s father had taught him: “Help all who are suffering. Man is dear to man.” This notion challenged FDR to focus on what government could do for the people. As a result, the patrician became a populist.
Keep a close eye
Elected governor of New York in 1928, Roosevelt did not keep himself locked in Albany; he roamed the backwater byways on inspection tours of state-run facilities. He would go from facility to facility, meeting with administrators. While they would meet with him, Eleanor would do the physical inspections. She was peering into kitchens, clinics, and dormitories to see if what the administrators reported was accurate. Eleanor became Franklin’s legs since he was primarily confined to a wheelchair. [Roosevelt did manage a kind of upright “walk” with his heavy leg braces, but the effort was never unaided and always exhausting.]
The idea of inspections is akin to the kaizen philosophy that employs Gemba, visiting the place where value is added. For senior leaders, meeting with people where they work is essential. I recall working with a senior automotive executive who conducted his weekly staff meetings on the factory floor. It was noisy and sometimes hot in summer and cold in winter, but it sent a message to one, and all that supervision began with the concept of working where the work was being done.
Hold your cards close
We learn that Franklin’s heart was opened by the suffering he had endured, and he was determined to do what he could to improve a lot of others. The lesson for managers is that people need to see you out and about. Roosevelt did not let his disability weaken his ability to meet and mingle with others. He has driven around in an open-top vehicle where people could see him, hear him, and after his speeches, come and speak to him. He listened.
Darman notes that Roosevelt regarded himself as flexible. He quotes Roosevelt as saying to prior to being sworn in as president and as the Great Depression was worsening, “Let’s concentrate on one thing. Save the people and the nation, an if we have to change our minds twice every day to accomplish that end, we should do it.”
Roosevelt used his bon vivant air to encourage people to speak up and share their truths with him. Knowing where the boss stands may not be desirable but for a president pushed and pulled in multiple directions, a measure of ambiguity may be acceptable. It can indicate that you are open to differing ideas before making a final decision.
Note: Another book about Franklin Roosevelt’s illness is The Man He Became: How FDR Defied Polio to Win the Presidency by James Tobin