By Ray Tucker

When Franklin D. Roosevelt was stricken with infantile paralysis early in 1921, friends, physicians and family members disagreed violently on his future plans. The more cautious insisted that he resign himself to a life of semi-invalidism and undergo no strain. The other group, which was headed by Mrs. Roosevelt, sided with the President in his insistence that constant treatment and exercise would enable him to fulfill the "man of destiny" role he has always cherished for himself.

Early next month, in belated celebration of the President's birthday, the White House rafters will echo with the songs and stories and skits of "the gang" which, more than any other group, kept alive Mr. Roosevelt's public interests and political ambitions through the years when he was exiled to a bedroom. For 14 years now they have been joshing him, inspiring him, informing him and aiding him, always nursing his early expectation that some day he would dwell in the White House. The "gang"--his name for it--consists of half a dozen men who were associated with him in the 1920 presidential campaign--his three secretaries, other newspapermen and ex-newspapermen. Neither his smashing defeat in 1920 nor his subsequent paralysis robbed them of hope that some day---.

He himself first inspired the belief that 1920 was not the end of him or the Democratic party. When his closest aides were demobilizing after the Harding-Coolidge landslide, he summoned to him Louis McHenry Howe, Marvin H. McIntyre and Stephen T. Early. He presented them with golden cuff links which bear the recipient's initials on one side and "F. D. R." on the other. But even more promising than this souvenir was his optimistic declaration: "We will work together again some time."

Then came the blow which seemed to mark the close of his career. "It brought a tense feeling to my throat," says "Steve" Early, "to think that this big, broad-shouldered figure was doomed to look out on the rush and hurry of the political life he loved above all else from a wheel chair."

It was Mrs. Roosevelt who originated these annual birthday parties. She apparently sensed that reunions with comrades of more active days would stimulate him. When the "gang" received their first invitations in 1922, there was some dubious head-shaking.

"All of us who had not seen the 'boss' since his physical disaster went with trepidation," continues Mr. Early. "I know I did. I wondered what change I would find in that gay, happy-hearted man I had known when the inner assurance of eventual political preferment was in his face.

"We mobilized. And we found him in gay humor, and more overwhelmingly interested in State, national and international politics than he had ever been. It was dumbfounding. I think we were all a bit dazed, and if possible, more ardently his friends than ever.

"We discovered another thing, too. Not for a moment had his determination to have a share in great party affairs and national political life abated. Whether he then foresaw the possibility that despite his physical handicap he could himself again seek high office, I don't know. That was not discussed. But the good of the Democratic party, stiff and groggy from its 1920 defeat was."

From that moment the "gang" became Franklin D. Roosevelt's eyes and ears. Not obtrusively or ostentatiously. In all that period I don't recall that "Steve" or "Mac" ever spoke of him as a potential presidential candidate; they were hopeful rather than articulate. Regularly they wrote him letters about the health of the nation. They relayed gossip and tidbits as well as significant political developments; they served the salt as well as the meat of politics. They gave him a human closeup of the political panorama to supplement his study and reading and conferences. Since the "gang" had scattered to such key points as Washington, New York City and Albany, it was a most important contribution to the education and development of a future Chief Executive.

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They did more than satisfy his hunger for current information. In times when he may have suffered discouragement, they never let him falter. In 1924, while en route for his first visit to Warm Springs, he stopped off at the capital for the party, which was held at a hotel handy to the railroad station. He was then looking forward to new treatments at the Georgia resort. So their gift to him that year was a handsome walking-stick. It was symbolic of their hope and his that a cane would soon supplant a wheel chair.

During dinner he held it crooked in his arm. As they prepared for the evening's fun, somebody offered to remove it so that it would not inconvenience him. "No no, he protested, patting it, "that cane stays right on my arm." Many times during the night, when he thought that nobody was looking, he patted the rounded top again and again as if he and the stick shared a secret. To him it meant that he would walk again--maybe as far as the White House. Every year thereafter they gave him a present which expressed their confidence in his return to an active, political career.

The skits and stunts, even now that he is in the white House, have a meaning and purpose. In earlier days a cardboard White House figured in all the fooling, and there were many jests about it. After he became Governor, Mr. Howe, who has a keen dramatic sense and humor, reviewed Mr. Roosevelt's progress to the executive mansion. Strewing the dinner table with miniature power houses and telephone companies and 'Tammany Halls, Mr. Howe manipulated a tiny San Juan on horseback through all pitfalls to the governorship; the figure was Rooseveltian rather than Byronic, however. In an accompanying lecture Mr. Howe described past conquests and predicted future successes--and in the background stood the cardboard White House. Mr. Roosevelt always accepted the nomination and election with peals of boyish laughter.

For years the theme song was a parody of an old ditty entitled "Are We Almost There?" Mr. Roosevelt's advance has necessitated frequent changes in the words, and now the title is "We Are There." But the lines of the original song furnish some idea of their susceptibility to political orchestration:

"'Are we almost there?
Are we almost there?'
Cried the dying girl as she drew near her home.
Are them our pop-u-lar trees
That rear their tall green forms
To heaven's blue dome?"

The "gang" may also have affected some of Mr. Roosevelt's policies as Governor and President. They take delight in being "rough on the boss." They praise or pillory his policies and acts, and he expects it. On the birthday before he entered the White House, they presented a presidential program which he did not entirely forget when he delivered his inaugural address. Now and then they arrange or rearrange skits so as to plant or remove ideas from his head. Sometimes they work.

Burlesquing his domination of his Cabinet last year, they staged a meeting of his official household with the guests posing as secretaries. After a few moments of inaction and silence, the actors arose and filed out of the room. Only ten wooden standards marked the spot where the cabinet had been. Falling completely into the spirit, as he always does, Mr. Roosevelt delivered a long talk and a batch of orders to the standards.

No lines are ever written for the President. He must reply and defend himself wholly impromptu. Sometimes he hits back hard, and sometimes he wards off a thrust with a joke or an anecdote. He has a remarkable faculty for repartee, and he rarely loses in the exchanges. He appreciates the burlesque of men and policies, but for all his camaraderie, he rarely reveals his inner and deeper reactions.

Although his birthday falls on January 30, heavy pressure on the President and his secretarial impresarios has forced a postponement until early in February. Last year, however, it was held on the same night that the nation was staging thousands of parties in his honor and to raise funds for the Warm Springs Foundation. Mr. Roosevelt had to leave the dinner a little early to keep an engagement for a nation-wide radio address, but first he made sure that the party would still be going on his return. As he was descending the elevator, he ordered the operator to return to the second story. From the door he shouted: "By presidential command, don't anybody dare to leave until I get back. The party hasn't started yet."

The evening starts with dinner, which at the White House is held in the cozy upstairs corridor. The actors wear costumes, and stage their acts between courses. For this part of the performance, Mrs. Roosevelt and some of her friends are admitted, including Nancy Cook, Marguerite Le Hand, Malvina Thompson and Gracy Tully. Anna Dall Boettiger was initiated only last year. But they must run after dinner and entertainment, for then it becomes a stag affair.

Mr. Roosevelt drops all trace of his presidential office, and leads in the merry-making. He is an excellent story-teller and mimic. This gathering furnishes a safety valve for a man who can see the humorous side of the most serious problem, but cannot afford to indulge in merry reactions at the moment they spark. The "gang" benefits by the delay.

Although the only guest with a voice is Secretary McIntyre, singing is one of the chief features of the informalities. The President asks again and again for his favorites, and the boys oblige as best they can. Although Mr. Roosevelt has a tremendous zest for play, he never shows it in such carefree, boyish manner as at these get-togethers. And he is always the last to want to go home--even though his home is the White House.