April 1944

The Vice President of the United States gave me, yes me!, his Dictaphone.  He said I had a story to tell.  Henry Wallace, farmer, writer, scientist, politician said he wanted to hear my story.  Oh yeah, Testing. Testing. Testing. 1. 2. 3.  


Now Henry Wallace, he has a story.  I’m his Personal Aide, but Vice President Wallace said I needed to get my story – my experiences – about the Spanish War on record.  He has tried to get me to tell him about it in person, but I’m either too shy or too concerned what emotions might arise to talk about it in person.  That’s when H.A. suggested the Dictaphone.  So here it goes.

I’m Eugene Abraham Lewis, better known as Gene.  I work as a Personal Aide to the Vice President of the United States – but I guess I’ve already said that.   My boss, did I mention he is Vice President Henry A. Wallace – likes me to call him H.A. – gave me a gift, his old Dictaphone, and a big box of used, but freshly shaved, government stock wax cylinders.   H.A. thought I could use the device to record my experiences as a volunteer with the International Brigades fighting fascism in Spain.   It was such an overwhelming experience that I have difficulty talking about it.  H.A. thought the Dictaphone would help overcome this problem – but I’m repeating myself again. 

This Dictaphone has quite a history.  H.A. used it writing and editing the famous Wallaces’ Farmer, a weekly publication advocating for the farming community and scientific farming.   The Wallace family is very prominent in Iowa and admired by farmers nationwide.   H.A.’s grandfather, also named Henry but known as “Uncle Henry” to everyone, was an ordained minister and founder of the family paper.  He believed farming was man’s noblest work and he worked tirelessly to improve farm life.  H.A.’s father, Henry C. Wallace, followed in “Uncle Henry’s” footsteps, running the paper and he also served as Secretary of Agriculture under President Warren G. Harding.  The Wallace’s were staunch Republicans and strong supporters of President Theodore Roosevelt – that is until the Republican Party became dominated by big business as embodied by President Calvin Coolidge.  In 1924, H.A. broke with the family tradition and voted for the “Little Giant of the West,” Senator Robert La Follette of the Progressive Party instead of Coolidge.  H.A. knew it was a protest vote and Coolidge easily won the election. 

Like his father and grandfather, H.A. advocated for farmers and promoted scientific farming methods.  He wrote for and edited the family paper and authored several books on farming and politics – using this Dictaphone.  Also like his father, H.A. served as Secretary of Agriculture; however H.A. did it under a Democratic president – the great F.D.R. [Franklin Delano Roosevelt - A.S.].  H.A. is now F.D.R.’s Vice President, but I think I’ve mentioned that before. 

As a boss, H.A. is tireless.  This makes keeping up with him quite a chore.  Some people think he is a bit of an odd-duck.  I just think he is shy and not cut out for the “I’m your pal” type of politics that is seems required today.   I think his best quality is that he is open to any idea regardless of its source or popularity (or lack thereof).  He doesn’t let dogma or preconceived notions interfere with his decision-making.  When evaluating what path to take, he tests the validity of the various options and supports the option with the best evidence behind it.  He simply loves learning and experimenting.   H.A. is very intelligent, but not arrogant.  He rewards thoughtful discussions with his full attention, but has no time for the frivolous.   He has always been honest with me, rewarded my hard work, and treated me as an equal.   

But enough about H.A. this is supposed to be my story. 

I was born in 1915 in Philadelphia to George and Ida Lewis.  I was their first and only surviving child.  I was named after my father’s hero Eugene V. Debs, labor leader and presidential candidate of the Socialist Party and my mother’s hero Abraham Lincoln, the man who freed the slaves.  However, I barely remember my mother or dad, or Philadelphia for that matter.  My parents, and my baby sister, were killed by the Spanish Flu epidemic in 1918.  My mom and dad were only 20 and 21 respectively – how incredibly young!   My father was a proud member of Local 8 of the I.W.W. [International Workers of the World a.k.a. Wobblies -A.S.] Marine Transport Workers Industrial Union.  The Local was lead by Ben Fletcher and organized longshoreman.  I still have my father’s I.W.W. membership card – it is a prized possession and throughout my travels it has never left my person.  My mother took in people’s sewing and laundry at home and helped support I.W.W. efforts to organize workers and hinder the draft [for World War I - A.S.].  I don’t know why I survived, but since the Spanish Flu killed my parents and sister, I developed a morbid fascination with the nation of Spain.   I know the flu didn’t actually come from Spain, but Spain haunted me as a child and even more so now.

After their deaths, I was first handed off to my mother’s parents in New York City.  My first memories are of that cramped tenement building and the teeming city.  My grandparents were very loving and attentive.  They taught me to read and write.  Unfortunately, because of all the heavy lifting at his meatpacking plant my grandfather simply worked himself out and became a broken bedridden old man at the age of 55.   I was seven and preparing to go to school when I was tearfully told I had to leave.  Although they might have had a final destination in mind – perhaps my father’s parents in Texas, I was shipped from relative to relative across the country.  I felt like each stop was an audition for a new home.  I tried to make myself useful and picked up new skills at each stop.  I lived in industrial cities like Pittsburgh and in the rural farmlands of Indiana and all kinds of places in-between.  I learned to cook and clean, plant and pick, and tailor and tinker.   I traveled by way of cousins and other relatives spending weeks, months, or even a year with each family until an outing was arranged to take me to my next destination.   However, times were difficult for my family in the supposed prosperity of the 1920s.  The factory jobs that were opened to us during the war quickly were taken back by the demobilized soldiers returning from Europe and a lot of other white men who didn’t fight in the war.  Although we excelled at our work, we were told our services were no longer required.  I agree that soldiers should get their old jobs back, but that doesn’t need to mean the total exclusion of my people from these jobs.  The farmers were suffering too.  They had to live on below subsistence prices for their produce because of their abundant harvests.   The idea that bountiful harvests produced economic failure just didn’t seem right to me.  

By the time I was thirteen I had made it half way across the country and moved in with a Great Aunt who worked as a cook and housekeeper for Henry A. and Ilo Wallace.   I didn’t know it then but this was to be my home until I shipped off to Spain just eight years later. 

When my Aunt found out that I had not been to school since leaving New York, she made sure I was enrolled and attended everyday.  


I quickly grew close to the Wallace family.  I am the same age as H.A.'s eldest H.B. [Henry Browne], three years older than Robert, and five years older than Jean.  I easily made friends with H.A.'s children and often played with them.  Theoretically, I could even go to school with them.  Iowa’s schools were not segregated.  The Iowa Supreme Court struck down “separate but equal” school system in 1868.  Iowa is a gem.  


Although not everyone in Iowa shines brightly.  I did not go to school with the Wallace children because neighborhoods were segregated and the school boundaries just happen to have been drawn to mirror these neighborhoods.  Because of my Aunt and the openness of the Wallace family I was able to experience two different Iowas.    

As in my other stopovers, I again I attempted to be useful to earn my keep; however, I had given up on finding a permanent residence.  In addition to helping in my Aunt’s home, I also helped out at the Wallace house on some evenings, weekends, holiday breaks, and summers.  Mr. Wallace, before graduating to H.A., saw my enthusiasm and skills and put me to work at a variety of tasks.  I would started out just helping around the house, but then Mr. Wallace put me to work on this hybrid corn projects, which he did in his backyard – these project would culminate in the creation of Pioneer Hi-Bred corn seed company that helped make the Wallace’s a very comfortable family.  My backyard projects lead to me working on the various family farms in the state.  I enjoyed camping out on the farms and tinkering with the machinery.  I became very adept at repairing the equipment and especially enjoyed working on the old tractors and trucks. 

Soon, with the help of my family and the Wallace family, I acquired an impressive mechanic's tool kit, and I was repairing the cars and equipment for my family, the Wallace family, and other friends and neighbors.   With times being tight my services to extend the lifespan of old equipment were in high demand – plus I was just a kid so my fees were very reasonable.  If I was ever stumped by a problem, my aunt’s son-in-law, a very skilled mechanic, explained it to me or if he was stumped too he would introduce me to someone who could teach me.  Soon there was nothing mechanical that I could not fix.   Mr. Wallace, who apparently was following my mechanical exploits, introduced me to the workers in his Wallaces’ Farmer printing plant and I explored the new and fascinating equipment and, with help, soon mastered them too. 

I was able to continue my informal apprenticeship at the printing press even when the Wallace family lost ownership of the paper in 1932 due to the economic depression.  Although the paper transferred to new owners H.A. continued his work as editor and the Wallace family was still solvent – many, many farmers in Iowa were going under, losing both their farms and livelihoods.

Although Iowa, the nation, and the world was suffering from the economic crisis, I was doing fine.  By the time I was in my mid-teens I had stashed away a good deal of cash, and earned a lot of in-kind payments – chickens, clothes, pies (my favorite).  I used both to repay my Aunt for her generosity – and love, and I also purchased a second-hand car.  With the car, I quickly became “a man about town” and created even more opportunities to help friends and relatives, including the Wallaces.  I was a driver, with a car, for hire.  I transported people, packages, and messages all over the state and even did a few trips out-of-state to Illinois, Missouri, Nebraska, and Wisconsin.

During this time I also embraced the political party of my father, the Socialist Party.  During my travels I would meet with party members and pick up literature.  I also did some messenger and passenger work for them, especially during the 1932 election.

While I embraced my father’s politics, my aunt told me that Mr. Wallace struggled with his politics.  The Wallaces’ hated Herbert Hoover – something about Hoover betraying the farmers and attempting to undermine H.A.’s father when they both served in the Harding Administration.  Hoover was the Secretary of Commerce and Wallace was the Secretary of Agriculture.   Four years after H.A.’s father died, Herbert Hoover became president.  This apparently was a very bitter time for H.A. – he had campaigned for Al Smith, but Iowa’s rural, Protestant, teetotalers could not bring themselves to vote for this big city, Catholic, wet politician. 

Although he was still officially registered as a Republican, H.A. was a man without a party.  He saw that neither the Republican nor the Democratic party was working to solve the problems of the farmer, in particular, and the crisis of the depression in general.  Unlike these political parties, H.A. was examining a lot of policy options.  He was very interested in a proposal by M.L. Wilson, a professor of agricultural economics at Montana State Agricultural College.  Wilson proposed paying farmers to limit their production, what he called “the domestic allotment plan.”  The plan proposed that by controlling the production of farmers, crop prices would rise and stabilize the agricultural economy.  H.A. helped Wilson promote the idea and Wilson became acquainted with Rexford Guy Tugwell an economics professor at Columbia University and a member of F.D.R.'s “Brain Trust”  [Roosevelt’s team of advisors - A.S.].

H.A. began to see potential in a Roosevelt presidency, and to win the election, the Roosevelt campaign knew it needed to recruit the support of farmers and saw H.A. as a necessary and natural ally.  Wilson and Tugwell worked to bring H.A. to the campaign and shortly after F.D.R. won the Democratic Party nomination for president H.A. was invited to lunch at Hyde Park with F.D.R.  The lunch was a hit with both participants.  H.A. returned to Iowa committed to the election of F.D.R.  Iowa and the majority of the nation sent F.D.R. to the White House.  A few weeks after the election, H.A. was called to Warm Springs, Georgia [Roosevelt’s spa retreat - A.S.] to meet with the president-elect and his team, and a few months later H.A. was asked to serve as Secretary of Agriculture, and Tugwell, shortly after F.D.R.’s inaugural, became the Assistant Secretary of State.

Wait a second, all I’m doing is talking about H.A. – this is supposed to be about me.  But I guess our past and futures are tied to one another, so my story is also his story – except Spain of course – which is what H.A., and I, wanted to use this Dictaphone for – oh, well.  I’ll try again another day.




©  2011 Ron Millar