Name of people on the White House staff:

Information for this section was taken from the book: "Working with Truman" by Ken Hechler (All materials are used with author's permission)

	Charles C. Ross
	Charles C. Ross, who took over as press secretary when J. Leonard Reinsch departed, had good credentials as a Pulitzer-prize-winning journalist for the St. Louis Post-Dispatch. His intimate, long friendship with Truman helped make him a very special policy adviser. Early on, Ross started the practice of staff skull sessions prior to news conferences, at which he would take the lead in firing the most challenging and insulting questions to try to soften the bursts of Truman temper when newsmen later shot their real queries. Beyond that, Ross was always on hand for occasional strategy meetings, relaxed chit-chat when it could be squeezed in late in the day, and presidential poker games and Key West vacations.    I always got a kick out of Ross, who had droopy eyelids and huge pouches under his eyes, which gave him the appearance of a sleepy, friendly dog with a perpetually sad expression. Like many Missouri associates of the President, Ross was very adept at gentle ribbing, and was also one of those sharply alert staffers who thoroughly enjoyed the discussions of ancient history the President frequently initiated.    In December 1950, on the eve of Truman's explosive letter to Washington Post music critic Paul Hume for his "lousy" review of Margaret's Constitution Hall concert, Ross suffered a heart attack and died in his office. It was a grievous personal and offici al loss for Truman. The several press secretaries who followed Ross were more aggressive in organizing the press operation, and they were all given higher marks by the newsmen. Yet none would be on as intimate a basis with Truman.

	John W. Snyder
	John W. Snyder of St. Louis was successively federal loan administrator, head of the Office of War Mobilization and Reconversion, and secretary of the treasury, but should properly be classified as an "intimate old friend and Missouri adviser."   Truman drafted Snyder a few days after he took office, although he was scheduled to head a bank in St. Louis. He slipped in and out of the White House at will, frequently came over for a swim with the President, joined the poker sessions and K ey West vacations, and caused no end of difficulty for the liberal advisers at the White House. As Snyder put it:   I am perfectly satisfied to say that I was a conservative. We must remember that a president has a large group of counselors and advisers; and he is entitled to have at least one or two on the conservative side when there is always such a will ing and anxious group on the progressive or liberal side. (7)

	Matthew J. Connelly
	In the waning twilight hours of October 16, 1952, the Truman campaign train paused in Clinton, Massachusetts, the hometown of Matthew J. Connelly, one of the few White House staff members who served from start to finish of the Truman years. From the rear platform of the train, the President cast aside his prepared notes, and delivered a sentimental, emotional address about Connelly, who served as his appointments secretary from 1945 to 1953. Truman added accolades about others on his staff and in his cabinet, but especially wanted the people of Connelly's hometown to know how highly he valued Connelly's loyalty and service. He told the people of Clinton that Connelly had been able and efficient and was a "tower of strength."   When President Truman made these remarks, Connelly was already under fire, and the Eisenhower administration subsequently prosecuted him in connection with a tax-fixing case. There is reason to suspect that the attack against Connelly was at l east partially inspired by a desire to prove that "corruption" existed in the highest circles of the Truman White House. Characteristically Truman never wavered in his loyalty to Connelly. But Connelly was convicted and served time in federal prison.   After watching Connelly operate in a wide variety of situations, I concluded that he was extraordinarily successful at controlling the President's schedule. Connelly was smooth, slender, handsome, adroit, fast on the phone, incredibly patient, charming but firm, never losing his cool, shuttling big and little shots in and out of the Oval Office, always mindful of whom it was necessary to slip in to see the President. At the end of a long day, he would give the White House telephone operators twenty or thirty numbers to reach. With a reassuring word and a boost, he would spend a minute or two on each call to explain why these people could not be squeezed into the schedule tha t day; invariably he left everybody happy.   Connelly seemed to know, during a ten-minute whistle stop, who was important enough to board and ride the train, who deserved a few minutes in a quick group meeting with the President, and who could be satisfied with a quick handshake. And if there were the slightest hint of puzzlement on Truman's face, Matt was always at his elbow to say: "You remember County Chairman Joe Doakes who carried Podunk County for the first time this century, don't you, Mr. President?"   Never a policy-maker, Connelly nevertheless put in his two cents when he had a chance. He usually supported John W. Snyder on issues that were resolved on conservative versus liberal lines.8 As if Connelly didn't have enough responsibility to keep him busy, the President assigned him to take notes of discussions and decisions at cabinet meetings.

	Judge Samuel I. Rosenman
	On the day that memorial services were held for Franklin D. Roosevelt in the White House-April 14, 1945-of Roosevelt's closest friends and advisers, Judge Samuel I. Rosenman, submitted his formal resignation to President Truman. Slightly rotund, scholarly-looking, Rosenman had been a familiar figure around the Whi te House for many years as a Roosevelt speech-writer. Courteous, even-tempered and unassuming, he had undertaken numerous trouble-shooting assignments for Roosevelt, including reorganization of executive agencies in such areas as war production, informati on and intelligence, and housing. Now he was resigning as special counsel, not only because he desperately wanted to return to private life, but also because an eye ailment had seriously impaired his vision several years before.   When Truman was catapulted into office, there was simply nobody at the White House who had Rosenman's superlative writing ability or the clarity and fluency of his style. At Truman's urging, he agreed to stay on for a few weeks to help the new administration get organized.   Rosenman had survived some pretty bloody battles in the arena of "palace politics" and intrigue at the highest level during some seventeen years of association with Roosevelt as governor and President. So he was not being simply oversensitive when he recollected: "I am sure that his [Truman's] staff started out with great hostility toward me, not as a personal matter, but because they knew I had been closely associated with Roosevelt." (9)    Despite this feeling of some staff members, Truman left no doubt about his own personal trust in the mild-mannered jurist. A few days after turning down Rosenman's resignation, the President pointedly included Rosenman in a private luncheon at the Mansion. Only two others were present, both old Missouri friends. Truman confided to his diary:    Took Ross, Snyder and Rosenman to the "House" for lunch. Had 'em upstairs in my so called "Study" and gave them a libation before we went to the family dining room for lunch. Told the three of them that they were most in my confidence and that I wanted fr ank and unadulterated statements of fact to me from them-and that when they couldn't treat me on that basis, they'd be of no use to me.(10)   This was no news to Rosenman, who always had dealt with Roosevelt on that basis. He emerged from the luncheon with the knowledge that even if there might be backbiting from other staff members, he had Truman's support.   When Roosevelt died, Rosenman was in London on a double-barreled mission: to head a delegation assessing the critical food shortages in war-devastated Western Europe and to negotiate with Allied governments on the trial of war criminals. Truman directed him to resume both assignments, insisting that the war criminals be tried rather than executed summarily as advocated by Churchill. Rosen man successfully negotiated the basis for the Nuremberg trials. His report on the food crisis went to Truman on April 30, 1945. These were just two of the many tasks Rosenman undertook, plus a flood of administrative duties.   While Truman was at the Potsdam Conference in July and early August of 1945, he asked Rosenman to fly over and help him prepare the public report on the Big Three Conference. Sailing home with the President on the U.S.S. Augusta, Rosenman rece ived another big assignment--to draft a majo message to the Congress outlining Truman's postwar policies. Rosenman was delighted to learn directly from Truman that he wanted the message to be a hard-hitting liberal statement that went beyond even the New Deal.    After returning home, Rosenman found that many Truman advisers were leery of making the September 6 message a liberal document. Some White House staff members argued heatedly that Rosenman's hard-hitting liberal language "was ruinous for the country as w ell as for the President."(11) He noted that Snyder, Connelly and James K. Vardaman, Jr., were most insistent that Truman should rest on his oars and not stir up the waters with New Deal language. Working for Roosevelt had usually involved a speech-writi ng team of Robert E. Sherwood, Harry Hopkins and Rosenman himself, but in the autumn of 1945, Rosenman said, "I found that I was trying to write a speech in the presence of a convention! There must have been fourteen people around the table, all of Truman 's old friends." He bemoaned the fact that "it takes five times as long to write a sentence with fourteen people around as it does to be alone with him [the President] and one or two others." He tried the technique of saying to all those who were making g ratuitous suggestions: "Now that sounds fine. I wish you would take this yellow pad and go into the other room and write five paragraphs on it." (12)   Eventually, the message was sent to Congress. It included a twenty-one-point program, a repetition of Roosevelt's Economic Bill of Rights, and a clear signal that Truman intended to press forward beyond the New Deal in the vigorously liberal t radition of the Democratic party.   Early in 1946, Judge Rosenman concluded that the time had come to think about his own future and the means to educate his children. He left the White House to head a new law firm in New York, after Truman awarded him a Medal for Merit in a sentimental White House ceremony. In telling a news conference of Rosenman's departure, Truman accurately characterized him as "able, devoted and self-effa cing." After his departure, Rosenman continued his warm friendship with Truman, helped him with his acceptance speech at the 1948 Democratic national convention, visited the White House frequently, prepared Truman's will, and along with Mrs. Rosenman, acc ompanied Mr. and Mrs. Truman on an enjoyable European trip in 1958.

	Clark M. Clifford
	Rosenman's most famous successor, Clark M. Clifford, came to the White House by chance, then used his talents and seized the opportunity to work his way up. It all started back in St. Louis, where Clifford was serving as the lawyer for a shoe company hea ded by James K. Vardaman, Jr Truman tapped Vardaman as his first naval aide, and Vardaman in turn induced Clifford to join the White House staff as assistant naval aide.   Tall, strikingly handsome, articulate and effective, Clifford made an immediately favorable impression at the White House.    Things went along swimmingly for Vardaman and Clifford for a few months, with Clifford finding his new surroundings exciting, challenging and glamorous-adjectives that well describe Clifford's own sparkling personality. Meanwhile, Vardaman was promoted from captain to commodore accompanied President Truman to the Potsdam Conference and on trips down the Potomac on the Williamsburg, and took part in the President's regular morning staff conferences. What went wrong in the autumn of 1945 is best described by Margaret, who noted that Vardaman "immediately acquired an acute case of Potomac fever." She added:    In the White House Mr. Vardaman proceeded to stick his nose into almost every office and tell them how it should be run. Then he made the blunder of all blunders. He descended upon Mother's side of the White House and started telling them how to do the jo b. That was the end of Mr. Vardaman as naval aide. Dad elevated him to the Federal Reserve Board, and he repaid him for his kindness by voting against every Truman policy for the next seven years. He also went around Washington spreading the nasty story t hat he was kicked out of the White House because he did not drink or play cards. (13)   While Vardaman was at Potsdam, as well as later, Clifford took magnificent advantage of his opportunities. He did not relish spending his career standing around like a "potted plant," simply looking glamorous at White House social affairs-thou gh he was resplendent in his dress uniform with the gold braid. He looked around and discovered that a fellow lawyer, Judge Rosenman, was tremendously overworked with all the speeches, messages, executive orders and agency contacts with which he was burdened. "I had an enormous interest in what Judge Rosenman was doing," related Clifford.(14) He volunteered to help, and soon Rosenman was turning over someof his work to Clifford. When Vardaman left in January 1946, President Truman named Clifford his naval aide. Before long, Clifford found he could accomplish his naval aide's work in twenty percent of his time, which left the remaining eighty percent for helping Judge Rosenman.    When Rosenman left in February 1946, Clifford moved easily into the vacuum. It was a difficult testing period, but Clifford rose to the challenge magnificently. He tackled such diverse issues as universal military training, unification of the armed servi ces, full employment, atomic energy, railroad and other strikes, and a wide variety of other domestic and international problems. Clifford brought to his job a zestful, fresh enthusiasm, tempered with an ability to stand back and assess the long-range imp lications of presidential decisions. He gave the President a crisply confident, objective summary of arguments, which included just the right dash of imagery. Although a Missourian himself, Clifford stirred jealousies from many of Truman's old Missouri friends like Snyder and Vaughan, as well as former Senate staffer Connelly. There was some resentment because Clifford's star was clearly rising. He could sense that his standing in the White House was improving and by the spring of 1946 Clifford knew that "I had developed a relationship with President Truman where we understood each other and were getting along well."(15)

	George M. Elsey
	The rise and fall of Vardaman, which brought Clifford to a position of great power and influence, also gave another able staff assistant the chance to rise through the White House hierarchy. In April of 1942 a young naval ensign named George M . Elsey was assigned by the Office of Naval Intelligence to work in the White House map room. Located next door to the oval reception room where President Roosevelt delivered his fireside chats, the heavily guarded map room was an intelligence and communi cations center that handled the latest top-secret cables and posted current war information on huge display maps. For a bright and eager young history major, scarcely twenty-four years old, this was a chance in a million to be front and center while histo ry was in the making.  During the war years, Elsey polished his natural talents by putting into clear and understandable form the massive amounts of intelligence material that poured into the map room. The ability to summarize and express complex ideas in simple form serv ed him well in his later responsibilities as a speech-writer. (16)   Like Clifford, Elsey made himself useful and proved his value and competence. While Rosenman was still special counsel, Elsey indicated, "He frequently wanted background information on military events or military happenings to help him better understand how to write some of the material he was working on."(17)   As assistant naval aide under Vardaman, and as naval aide when Vardaman left in January 1946, Clifford helped supervise the map room and quickly learned that Elsey's talents went far beyond the ability to stick flags onto maps and decode cable s. And just as Clifford pitched in to help Rosenman, Elsey tried to help both men. By the spring of 1946, he was in effect the assistant naval aide, although the President did not formally announce it.   The lack of formal status did not embarrass or deter Elsey in the least. He continued to help Clifford with the increasing burdens he shouldered. In July 1946, the President asked Clifford to compile a list of agreements the Russians had broke n. When Clifford asked Elsey to undertake the assignment, Elsey quite typically raised the point that a simple list provided far too narrow a basis. After lengthy discussion, Clifford acknowledged it would be useful to develop a comprehensive report on th e totality of United States-Soviet relations, including the goals and specific Soviet actions that affected world peace and international order. According to Elsey, "I tackled it with great zeal because I felt very deeply the necessity of this kind of thi ng."(18)   The Elsey report was not written in an ivory tower. He interviewed top officials at the State, War and Navy Departments and the newCentral Intelligence Agency, carefully weighing the facts and assessing the future. Elsey's study concluded that the Soviet Union could only be persuaded to arrive at some accommodation "when they realize that we are too strong to be beaten and too determined to be frightened."    Clifford was out of the country when much of the Elsey report was being written, and forwarded the final product to the President over his signature on September 24, 1946. The President immediately realized its importance, as indicated in the following account by Margaret:    Clark Clifford handed this report to my father one evening around five o'clock. He stayed up most of the night reading it, and early the next morning he called Mr. Clifford at his home. "How many copies of this report do you have?" he asked.   "Ten," Mr. Clifford said.   "I want the other nine," Dad said. "Get them right in here."   Mr. Clifford put the other nine on his desk within the hour. "This has got to be put under lock and key," Dad said. "This is so hot, if this should come out now it could have an exceedingly unfortunate impact on our efforts to try to develop s ome relationship with the Soviet Union."(19)    The document helped lay the foundation for Truman's major foreign policy decisions. The Truman Doctrine, Marshall Plan, North Atlantic Treaty Organization and containment of aggressive communism were rooted in the analysis developed in the Elsey report.

	Dr. John R. Steelman
	One day early in the Roosevelt administration, Secretary of Labor Frances Perkins paid a visit to Alabama College in Montevallo, Alabama, to make a commencement address. There she was impressed with a huge, open-faced, smiling man who taught economics but talked like a down-to-earth fellow and had a sensible comment on any topic that came into the conversation. He seemed to know what he was talking about on all the labor issues that interested Secretary Perkins. Dr. John R. Steelman, Arkansas-bred and possessing a Ph. D. from the University of North Carolina, so impressed her that she offered him a job in the United States Conciliation Service. He rose to become head of the Conciliation Service and quickly gained a reputation as an effective negotiator of labor disputes.    Truman discovered that his secretary of labor, former Senator Lewis Schwellenbach, was ineffective in dealing with the nationwide walkouts in steel, coal, railroads and other industries. This situation prompted the President to appoint Steelman on October 25, 1945, as special assistant to the President, "to act in any field in which I want to use him." (20) Steelman was in the eye of the hurricane to advise the President, to assis t in negotiations, and to report and recommend necessary courses of action. Dramatic confrontations occurred. When the President ordered a federal takeover of the coal mines and, in the face of intransigent railway brotherhood leadership, prepared to order the Army to operate the railroads and draft strikers into the Army, Steelman shuttled from one crisis meeting to another. His dramatic telephone call from the Hotel Statler to Clifford, waiting off the House floor at the Capitol while Truman was addressing Congress with his proposal to draft strikers, enabled Clifford to pass a quick note so the President could announce to Congress that the railroad strike was over. The nation breathed easier over the weekend of M ay 25, 1946.    A new game of musical chairs affected Steelman's position in June 1946. Fred Vinson went from treasury secretary to chief justice. John Snyder went from director of the Office of War Mobilization and Reconversion to treasury secretary. And Steelman took over Snyder's job as OWMR head in addition to his White House duties as labor adviser.    As problems piled up in the early days of the Truman administration, arguments erupted among cabinet departments and agencies, and knotty situations developed on Capitol Hill. Steelman cheerfully moved in as a problem-solver. Many of these problems arose from jurisdictional squabbles over turf. Steelman und erstood very clearly how the President operated. He knew that his own job was simply to investigate the facts, after which the President made the ultimate decisions, quickly and crisply.    Steelman played his role carefully, keeping the minor "cats and dogs" away from the President's desk, briefing the President fully, insuring that cabinet members never felt he was keeping them away from the Oval Office, and sensing which issues had to be decided topside. Steelman eagerly picked up other assignments, such as liaison between the executive agencies and the President's Co mmission on Higher Education and the chairmanship of the President's Scientific Research Board. In the latter role, he beefed up the government's scientific research programs (this role was later undertaken by the National Science Foundation, and in futur e administrations it was filled by a presidential scientific advisory apparatus). In July 1946 the President transferred yet another function to Steelman and OWMR-the Office of Economic Stabilization, charged with leadership in the war against inflation.< p>    At his December 12, 1946, news conference, the President announced: "I have today appointed John R. Steelman as Assistant to the President, to continue to aid me in coordinating Federal agency programs and policies."(21)    A very interesting thing happened when Steelman's charter of operation was being drawn up, with the assistance of the Bureau of the Budget. According to Elmer B. Staats of the Bureau staff (who later became comptroller general of the United States), Steelman took the initiative to write his own ticket:    We worked up a draft based on conversations with various people in the White House, including the President. I went over one day to check out the draft with John; I had written on it, "assistant to the President." He looked it over and said he thought the substance was pretty good, but he penciled in the word the in front of assistant. He said, "My understanding is that I am supposed to be the chief of staff of the White House." I said, "Well, that's news to me, but I am afraid I cannot really make that judgment." But President Truman allowed it to stand. (22)    However, Steelman was not a chief of staff as Sherman Adams was for President Eisenhower. Truman always had been, and remained, his own chief of staff. Steelman never issued orders or directives to others beyond his own personal staff. But the magic and p restigious word "the" stuck, was printed at the top of Steelman's stationery and enhanced his prestige when talking with cabinet members, executive agencies, House and Senate members and outside interests. Although the President continued to refer to Stee lman simply as "assistant to the President," other White House staff members bridled at the definite article preceding the title "assistant." They joked or grumbled about it in private, but so long as Steelman did not invade their turf, they did not make a major issue out of it.    Steelman and his staff had their offices in the east wing of the White House, that appendage to the Mansion (presidential family quarters) which had been built in 1934. Clifford was in the busy west wing, constructed in Theodore Roosevelt's time, which placed the special counsel closer to the center of power. The Oval Office, appointments secretary, correspondence and press secretaries and other top assistants were also in the west wing. This division prom pted the inevitable comment that "east is east and west is west, and never the twain shall meet." Clifford was far more assertive and combative than Steelman, and some spirited arguments developed. The general lines of demarcation-that Clifford should han dle policy and planning, and Steelman operations-shifted with the ebb and flow of the work at hand. Steelman rarely touched foreign policy and military matters; he concentrated on housing, education, surplus property disposal, synthetic rubber, strategic materials stockpiling, manpower and related issues. He attended most cabinet meetings as a silent partner and generated a vast flow of business from cabinet members "pre-testing" ideas.    Truman often asked Steelman to talk with House and Senate members who asked for favors or projects that affected their districts. The President described Steelman's role this way: "If what they were asking for was a legitimate proposition, we would try to accommodate them. John was very helpful in finding out how far it was necessary to go and if what these chaps were asking for was in the public interest."23 Truman added, "It's been said that if you have two bureaus in disagreement in the same Cabinet me mber's office, sometimes the President can get an agreement, but if they are in different departments, such as Interior and Commerce, God himself couldn't get it settled."(24)    Steelman felt that it was a great morale builder for cabinet staff members to present their views firsthand to a White House official. This stimulated spirited enthusiasm for a White House decision, rather than grudging compliance down the line.    In addition to occasional tensions between Steelman and Clifford, there was no love lost between Steelman and Leon H. Keyserling, chairman of the President's Council of Economic Advisers from 1949 to 1953. While he was vice-chairman from 1947 to 1949, Keyserling related that "Steelman, in my view, sort of tried to take over the council and subordinate it to the Steelman operation." Keyserling noted: "When our Economic Report went over to the White House, it was thoroughly rewritten-mangled-by the Steelman office. But we succeeded in getting it brought back to the counci l through meetings in the council offices, which I recall very well."(25)Keyserling also aired his feelings in these comments:   My contacts with John Steelman, the assistant to the president, were inconsequential during my years on the CEA, except that he contacted me and had (or claimed to have) considerable influence in the selection of the CEA members. I should mention, however, that Steelman could well have been a thorn in the side of the CEA, primarily because of his "conservative" views and alliances and also because of his aggrandizing tendencies. But the actions of President Truman himself and the great influence with the president of other members of the White House staff, especially Cliff ord, prevented it from happening.(26)    Steelman's many responsibilities were augmented by his supervision of a small staff, which had been inherited from the OWMR. The OWMR had kept in touch with public service organizations of the advertising and motion picture industries. This small liaison staff had nowhere else to go when OWMR was abolished, so Steelman t ook it under his wing at the White House. Its work remained a mystery because it did not relate to anything that the rest of the White House staff was doing.

	Charles S. Murphy
	The date was February 10, 1941.   As two swinging doors opened, Senator Harry S. Truman briskly walked into the long, narrow lobby back of the Vice-President's desk just off the floor of the Senate. There he spotted a methodical, precise, bespectacled, slightly balding man who had frequently helped him draft legislation.   "Murphy, I just made a speech in there on the Senate floor," the senator said. He pointed out that during a thirty-thousand-mile inspection tour of defense installations he had observed a great deal of waste and mismanagement. He asked his fri end to read the speech and then draft a resolution to set up a special Senate investigating committee to review procurement, construction and other aspects of the defense program.(27)    Charles S. Murphy got right to work and drafted what became Senate Resolution 71 to establish the Truman Committee. This subsequently brought national attention to a senator whose main claim to fame had been his election by the Kansas City Pendergast machine. Although the senator had worked before with this very thorough draftsman in the Senate's legislative counsel office, in 1941 he had not yet gotten around to calling him "Murph" as he later did at the White House.    Murphy had come to Washington in 1934 and worked his way up in the esoteric field of legislative bill drafting. It was an area that did not require eloquence so much as clarity and the ability to absorb a vast storehouse of information on public policy. Before the days of computers, it necessitated speedy, accurate resea rch on the legal and statutory precedents. Senator Truman was pleased with the caliber of Murphy's work.    When Truman became President, most knowledgeable insiders figured that his old friend Leslie Biffle, the ubiquitous secretary of the Senate, would be asked to join the new White House staff. Murphy asked Biffle one day whether the rumors were true. Biffle immediately answered: "No, but you're going."(28)    This news delighted Murphy, who felt he was reaching a dead end in the legislative counsel's office. Unfortunately, Senate Majority Leader Alben W. Barkley had other ideas. For some strange reason, he decided that Murphy was so essential to the operation of the Senate that he refused to release him. Not until the roof fe ll in on the Democrats in the 1946 elections and Barkley was demoted to minority leader did he finally consent to let Murphy join Truman, in January of 1947.   The President instructed Murphy to report directly to him, as administrative assistant, but left his assignments flexible. With typical modesty, Murphy subsequently stated: "I soon found out the kind of work that Clifford did. It was the kind of work I wanted to do, and so I went and asked if I could help, and he said he would be glad to have me."(29)    Murphy not only made himself useful around the White House, but also built friendly relationships with all the White House personnel. For example, he received Steelman's permission to attend his regular morning staff meetings. This eased the conflict tha t had frequently occurred between the special counsel and Steelman's office.   For the most part, Murphy assisted Clifford with his tremendous work load. Murphy even tried to persuade Clifford to expand his staff, but Clifford preferred to continue with only one assistant, George Elsey.30 Not until the 1948 campaign and its aftermath did Murphy succeed in increasingthe staff. But Murphy would have been horrified at suggestions that anTruman White House staff of twenty to twenty-five professionals shouldnballoon to many times that size, as occurred in the 1970s and 1980s.    As administrative assistant, Murphy also forged stronger ties with the Bureau of the Budget. He encouraged the bureau's Legislative Reference Division to expand it analysis of how legislation conformed to programs of the President. Murphy found this bureau assistance of prime importance, not only in suggesting the bills to sign or veto, but also in helping to formulate the President's legislative program.    Murphy rather modestly confesses that although administrative management "was not particularly my cup of tea,"31 he consistently encouraged the Bureau of the Budget in its efforts along this line.    Whether or not Murphy was personally enthusiastic about a particular job, he shared Truman's sense of responsibility toward any necessary task. There was little difference in Murphy's approach to a job he genuinely liked and his approach to those somewhat messy, tangled problems that were constantly thrown into his lap. He was equable and even-tempered. Unlike Truman, he never blew his cool.

	David E. Bell
	Murphy worked closely with James E. Webb, director of the budget. Webb's able assistants often back-stopped the work at the White House. Murphy was impressed by a tall, young ex-Marine named David E. Bell, who worked on labor and welfare matters for the Bureau of the Budget. Webb wanted to help Murphy and also cement re lationships between the bureau and the White House. So he offered to give Murphy any assistant from the bureau he wanted. Without hesitation, Murphy answered: "I will take David Bell."(32) At age twenty-eight, Bell became the youngest member of the White House staff-a year younger than Elsey.   Bell shouldered the major load of speeches and messages dealing with economics, international trade, labor, natural resources or Western development. He helped draft presidential reports on the budget and the state of the economy, and in 1948 returned to the Bureau of the Budget to help on the annual budget message.    A tall man who was a terror on the tennis court, Bell had a fresh, independent view on most issues. Like many other White House staffers, he had a good share of contacts in and out of the government off whom he could bounce new ideas. He worked well with Steelman's staff, thus helping to bridge the gap between the east w ing and the west wing. He retained his close contacts with many of the Budget Bureau personnel, and it came as no surprise when President Kennedy named him budget director in 1961.    In 1952, Bell received the physically exhausting assignment of working for Adlai Stevenson's campaign and maintaining liaison with Truman. Given the differences in temperament of Truman and Stevenson, this was almost a no-win assignment for Bell. Later, after Bell had been running the foreign aid program, he experien ced some of the differences between the leadership of Presidents Truman and Johnson. As he put it:    One of Mr. Truman's most characteristic attitudes was that he wanted to place responsibility clearly on an individual, to give him leeway and opportunity to function to carry out that responsibility.... Johnson was the kind of man who would give you a job at 3 o'clock, call at 3:30 and ask if you had finished yet, and at 4 he would call up and say: "Good Lord, haven't you done it yet?"(33)

	David D. Lloyd
	Murphy's small stable of speech-writers also included David D. Lloyd, a lawyer with two minor novels among his credits. Truman had some uneasiness about Lloyd at the start because he had served as research director of the liberal Americans for Democratic Action-an organization that took some pot shots at Truman prior to the 1948 campaign on the grounds he wasn't liberal enough. But Truman's trust in Lloyd grew steadily. Soon he emerged as the point man on major speeches, as well as handling a number of special assignments in such fields as housing, immigration, displ aced persons and constitutional issues involving the President's war powers.   Lloyd had an off-beat sense of humor, which he used to good effect in poking fun at the glittering generalities used by Dewey in the 1948 campaign. In 1951, both Bell and Lloyd were promoted to administrative assistants and they remained with the Truman White House until the end of his term. Truman then entrusted Lloyd with the assignment of executive director of his proposed library in Independence.

	Rear Admiral Robert L. Dennison
	Admiral Dennison, who served as naval aide from early 1948 until Truman left office in 1953, was one of Truman's superior appointees. His duties went beyond those usually assigned to a naval aide. He helped screen some of the information flowing to the White House from the Joint Chiefs of Staff, Atomic Energy Commissio n, Department of State and other agencies. He coordinated federal maritime affairs and looked into claims of overpayment of ship construction subsidies. As time went on, Truman gave him a series of increasingly responsible special assignments.   When Truman and his family went to Brazil in 1947 to sign the Treaty of Rio de Janeiro, they had an enjoyable return trip on the battleship Missouri, commanded by Dennison. It wasn't long before the President had Dennison transferred to the Wh ite House.    When our White House troupe went to Key West, Admiral Dennison was the official host, because the vacation resort was on the naval base. Whenever a political subject arose, and this was frequently, I was struck by the sage and thorough understanding of de mocratic institutions and human nature that Dennison displayed. I concluded that he would have been equally at home as a political leader, had fate thrust him into that role. In carrying out his maritime responsibilities, he dealt frequently and effective ly with members of Congress and officials in the Justice, Commerce, Labor, State and Defense departments.   Admiral Dennison learned early that Truman had a "shell" around him that sometimes gave the impression that he was a simple, poorly educated man trying to do a job. The admiral observed: ̉He wasn't a simple man. He was the most complex individ ual I ever knew. He was well educated... Anybody who was stupid enough to question anything hehad to say about personalities or American history had better look out, because he knew.(34)    The admiral learned about Truman's bluntness and penchant for colorful language even before he came to the White House. One day during their voyage on the Missouri, when Tito was massing Yugoslav troops on his northern border, which threatened Trieste, Dennison brought the President a critical message about the situ ation. As the President and his staff were sitting around playing poker, Dennison silently handed the message to the President. Without telling anyone at the poker table what was in the message, Truman calmly handed it back with this simple comment: "Tell the son of a bitch he'll have to shoot his way in." Dennison said, "Aye, aye, sir," and left, recalling that he "probably sent back exactly what he said because there wasn't any way to paraphrase that."(35)In any event , it stopped the rumblings from Yugoslavia.   Dennison also recognized Truman's weaknesses. For example, Truman's memory and interpretation of conversations he had had with those with whom he disagreed frequently did not square with the recollections of others who were present. Dennison e xplains it this way:    I have been with the President on occasions when he had what appeared to me to be a perfectly normal and amiable conversation with a caller. After thecaller left, he would say to me, in effect, "I certainly set him straight," or, "I let him have it." The President's remarks seemed to me to have no conceivable relation to the conversation I had just heard. He may have been commenting on what he wished he had said or perhaps his words were too subtle for me to understand. (36)< /sup>   Late one afternoon, about six o'clock, Dennison was briefing the President on a critical situation in Korea that he had to absorb for an address that evening. Appointments secretary Connelly interrupted the conversation by asking whether the P resident could see four Iowans who did not have an appointment. Truman asked them to come in and sit down, whereupon they explained a complex road and bridge problem for which the President had no responsibility. But he took considerable time making vario us suggestions to his visitors, all in a patient and friendly fashion. They came in looking dejected, but they left as changed people. Dennison related this aftermath:   It was all too much for me and I said, "Mr. President, if you'll forgive me, I know what's on your mind. I know the decision you've got to make right now. How could you have the patience to listen to these people? This is not a problem that yo u can solve."   And he said, "Bob, I'll tell you something. Sure it's not a problem I can solve. It isn't a national problem, and maybe to you it isn't a problem, but believe me to these people it's a problem."He said, "I'm the President of the United States and I should listen to people like that who are in trouble, even if that's all I can do." So I just shut my mouth and learned something. (37)

	Major General Harry H. Vaughan
	One spring day in 1952, after having lunch with General Vaughan in that small room in the White House west wing that we dubbed "the real mess in Washington," I penned these notes: "He is quick, sharply perceptive, and with a prodigious memory. I wonder if he realizes what a political handicap he really is to the Presiden t. As a human being, he is tops, however."(38)    Press secretary Ross coined the expression "cherchez le Vaughan" when some gaffe reflecting on the President was traceable to the blustery military aide. Vaughan caused the President no end of political difficulty, capped by his receipt of a cut-rate deep freeze, which became one of the symbols of the Democratic downfa ll in 1952.   Laughter was a great and necessary tonic for Harry Truman. Offstage, when he shucked the serious or boring routines to which he was daily subjected, he loved the company of Vaughan, who knew how to light the fuse that caused an explosion of he arty laughs. Nobody could equal Vaughan as a Falstaffian court jester.   Their friendship dated back to World War I days when they commanded field artillery batteries, blossomed during reserve training after the war, and was cemented as Vaughan played a leading role in Truman's senatorial campaigns and Senate commi ttee staff. After serving as military aide when Truman was Vice-President, Vaughan moved into the same position in the White House.    It wasn't long before he got himself into hot water. A few days after Truman became President, reporters discovered that Vaughan planned to have an FBI investigation of every member of the White House press corps.(39) From that point on, Vaughan became the butt of many attacks by columnists and commentators. He welcom ed everyone, like a friendly puppy, and many lobbyists and favor-seekers took advantage of his friendliness. One of these was John Maragon, onetime Kansas City shoeshine boy and Capitol Hill railroad ticket agent. North Carolina Senator Clyde Hoey brought out embarrassing details of Maragon's influence-peddling, and the connections he claimed with the White House through Vaughan. Maragon was subsequently convicted and served a jail term for perjury and failure to disclose truthfully some of the shady busi ness dealings in which he had been engaged.   As early as 1946, press secretary Ross recognized the potential damage that Maragon was causing the President through Vaughan. Ross wrote in his diary:    I thought I had him killed off, but John Maragon popped up again. A query came to us from the Overseas News Agency regarding his activities in Athens, where he seems to have been throwing his weight around. The message said he had "terrorized" members of the Henry Grady mission (the Mission to Observe the Greek Elections) by talking to correspondents. It was the first word we had had that Marago n was attached to the Mission. Some weeks ago at the suggestion of Matt Connelly and myself, the President had ordered the State Department to strike Maragon's name off the list of members of the Mission, where it had been placed on the recommendation of Ed Pauley and General Vaughan. It now develops that after this order was given, the Department talked again about the matter with General Vaughan, with the result that Maragon was left on the list in a "minor capacity."   I took the matter up again with the President. It was the first he knew about it. Matt and I then talked to Loy Henderson and Donald Russell of the State Department and they both agreed with us that Maragon's name should be immediately stricken and he should be brought back to the United States as rapidly as possible. He is a dangerous man to have loose in a foreign country. Russell later read me a copy of a very explicit directive to Grady for the separation of Ma ragon from the Mission. I hope to God that this is the end of Maragon so far as the White House is concerned. (40)    Unfortunately, despite the concern of Ross, this was not the end of Maragon. Vaughan failed to realize the embarrassment he caused the President by continuing to ask for special treatment for Maragon.    Truman steadfastly defended Vaughan against his critics, not only because Vaughan had helped him when times were tough, but also because Truman liked a companion who treated him without the artificial deference displayed by many. Once when Vaughan tried to resign, Truman answered: "Harry, you and I came in here together and we're going to leave together and I don't want to hear any more of this damned foolishness about you wanting to resign."(41)    Sparks frequently flew between Vaughan and other staff members, despite the knowledge that Truman insisted on keeping him. Just after lunch one afternoon, Vaughan held an informal press conference in the west wing lobby to announce he would henceforth be the top defense aide to the President, superior to the naval and air force aides. Naval aide Dennisonreacted immediately. He recalls:    Well, that just infuriated me, and so I talked to Charlie Ross and Matt Connelly and said, "I don't want to get the President upset, but I was ordered here as a naval aide and I reported as a naval aide, and nobody ever told me about any arrangement such as this, and if it goes through I'm going to ask to be detached."   Well, Ross got madder than hell about Harry having the nerve to hold a press conference, and Matt Connelly was real upset about it. So they went in to talk to the President and told him this was really going to raise hell. So he just said, "We ll, forget the whole thing."(42)    Columnist Drew Pearson made Vaughan his favorite whipping boy. In a radio broadcast early in 1949, Pearson called on Truman to fire Vaughan because he had received a decoration from Argentine dictator Juan Peron. Incensed by Pearson's remarks, Truman ripp ed into Pearson at a dinner of the Reserve Officers Association honoring Vaughan on February 22, 1949: "I want you to distinctly understand that any S.O.B. who thinks he can cause any of those people to be discharged by me, by some smart aleck statement o ver the air or in the paper, he has got another think coming."(43)    Like Ross, Clifford winced at Vaughan's antics but never voiced his disapproval to the President. Nevertheless, Vaughan, like Connelly, was jealous of Clifford's obvious influence. Long after the end of the Truman administration, Vaughan was still jealous. When President Johnson appointed Clifford secretary of defense, Va ughan penned this note to Mr. Truman: The Vietnam situation should improve very shortly with Ambassador Clark Clifford on hand.    A man who could originate the Marshall Plan, perfect the Truman Doctrine and re-elect you in 1948 all without you realizing it should find Vietnam a pushover. (44)    As the 1952 campaign approached, other Truman staff members tried their diplomatic best to convince the Boss that he was carrying a dangerous liability. One day assistant press secretary Roger Tubby told Truman that the people of his native Vermont suppor ted the President, but always challenged, "What about Harry Vaughan?" Tubby noted, "As I recall, he stood up and walked over to one of the long windows and looked out towards the Washington Monument with his hands behind his back, and I knew I was dismiss ed."(45)    Through it all, Vaughan remained his ebullient self. He seemed to thrive on public criticism, and even joked about himself. One day at lunch in the west wing, I was sitting next to him as he regaled us with the roasting he had received at New York's Saints and Sinners Club. Vaughan described with vivid imagery the first skit:    When the curtain went up, Mrs. Robert A. Taft was sitting in a rocking chair, knitting away. And then there was a knock on the door, and this character came in with medals hanging down to his knees. The funny thing was that he not only looked like me, but he really sounded like me.    Then Mrs. Taft looks up and says: "Why, hello there, General Vaughan, how are you?"    And this character says: "Well, Mrs. Taft, I understand you're real anxious to move into the White House after the next election, and I just wanted to make sure you had everything you needed. Have you got your deep freeze?"    So Mrs. Taft turns around and says: "Oh yes, General Vaughan. I have a husband for a deep freeze!" (46)    On another occasion, I was declaiming about an inspiring address by Secretary of State Acheson, when he called for "the peace which passeth all understanding." Vaughan chomped on his cigar, poked me in the ribs and noted, "You know, Dean would get along a lot better if he spent less time with the Sermon on the Mount and m ore time with the Boys on the Hill."    Even old army buddies did not escape Vaughan's barbs. While Secretary of Defense Louis Johnson, a former national commander of the American Legion, was feuding with Acheson, Vaughan blurted one day, "Louis Johnson is the only bull I know who carries his own china shop right along with him."    I shared the feeling of many Truman staff members that the presence of Vaughan was a handicap of the worst sort. How could the principles of the Marshall Plan, NATO, Point Four and the Truman Doctrine be sponsored by the same President who tolerated Vaugh an? He just seemed to lack the "class" that most other Truman staffers possessed. Yet I realized his presence was a blind spot in Truman's vision.   Through the turmoil swirling around him, Vaughan always seemed to get the last word. On September 26,1951, Truman accompanied the prime minister of Italy out to the Lincoln Memorial and to the Washington side of the Memorial Bridge over the Po tomac River. There the President was to dedicate four attractive statues of gold-colored horses, presented by the people of Italy in appreciation of American economic aid to Italy. As we rounded the corner of the Lincoln Memorial, we could see a small crowd assembled. The equestrian statues were covered with huge sheets and there was a long piece of thin rope attached for the unveiling ceremony. ThePresident fingered a delightful little speech Murphy had prepared for the occasion, then contemplated the scene a bit grimly as he asked his military aide, "What do you suppose I should say when I pull that string?" Vaughan took a quick glance and immediately shot back: "That's easy, Boss. You say, 'They're off!'" (47)

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