Annie (12 page)

“Yeah, we're gonna fool Warbucks outta fifty thousand smackers.” Lily giggled.

“Aggie, this is gonna be the best bunco job I ever pulled off,” Rooster said as the three of them went into Miss Hannigan's office and settled in chairs around her desk. “I know a guy out in Brooklyn who can doctor up a fake birth certificate or any other kinda papers we want. But we need your help, sis, for details. Details about Annie that can help us pull this thing off.”

“Sure, I could help you,” said Miss Hannigan. “I could help you plenty. With little facts like Annie's date of birth, which was in that note of hers. But what's in it for me?”

“A three-way split, Aggie,” offered Rooster. “One-third for you, one-third for me, and one-third for Lily.”

“Uh-uh, I want half or nothin'—twenty-five grand,” Miss Hannigan firmly stated.

“Half!” screeched Lily. “That ain't fair—we'll be takin' a bigger risk than you.”

“Half or nothin',” repeated Miss Hannigan.

“Okay, damn it, half—twenty-five for you and twenty-five for the two of us,” said Rooster. “And we're gonna do it fast, Aggie. I'll give 'em some of the old Rooster razzle-dazzle. Into Warbucks's joint on Fifth Avenue and out. Four, five minutes at the most. Get the money, get Annie, and get the hell outta town.”

“Yeah, Annie. That's the problem.” Miss Hannigan hesitated. “What are we gonna do with her afterward?”

“Annie won't be no problem,” said Rooster, pulling out a switchblade knife and clicking it open. “When I want somebody to disappear, they disappear. For good.” Rooster closed the knife and slipped it back into his jacket. “And, like they say,” he added with an ugly twisted grin, “dead kids tell no tales.”

A
t seve
n o'clock on the gray, overcast morning of Wednesday, December 21st, Annie and Mr. Warbucks boarded a special train at Pennsylvania Station and set off for Washington, D.C., where he was to meet with President Roosevelt at the White House. Settled in plush upholstered chairs in Mr. Warbucks's private railroad car, which was furnished with Oriental rugs and expensive French antiques, Annie and Mr. Warbucks talked about their appearance the night before on
The Oxydent Hour of Smiles
. “It sure was a dumb program,” remarked Annie. “Yes, but everyone except us seems to love it—probably half the country was listening in,” Mr. Warbucks pointed out. “And somewhere in America there's got to be someone who knows who your parents are.” The train went through a long tunnel and then passed for a time through a low-lying landscape of bleak, foul-smelling meadows. “What's this place?” asked Annie, wrinkling up her nose as she pointed out the window at the dreary scene. “New Jersey,” said Mr. Warbucks, pulling down the window shade.

A few hours later, in the Oval Office of the White House, President Roosevelt and the members of his Cabinet sat unhappily listening to a news commentary on the radio. “. . . and has so far lived up to none of his lofty campaign promises—all we have had from Franklin D. Roosevelt and his so-called Brain Trust is a great deal of high-flown talk and virtually no action,” intoned the German-accented voice of America's most famous radio newscaster, H. V. Kaltenborn. “In a nation racked by poverty, misery, and unemployment, it is deeds we want from the White House, not words. In short, Mr. President, if you are listening, we've had enough of your fireside chats. It is time that you—”

President Roosevelt leaned over and clicked off the radio, cutting Kaltenborn off midsentence. He placed a cigarette in his long silver cigarette holder, lit it, and turned to the frowning members of his Cabinet.

“Criticism, damn it, nothing but criticism,” muttered Harold Ickes, the secretary of the interior.

“I know, I know.” Miss Frances Perkins, the secretary of labor, nodded in agreement.

“It's terrible,” grumbled Cordell Hull, the secretary of state.

“Did you all read what they had to say about us in the
Washington Post
this morning?” Henry Morgenthau Jr., the acting secretary of the treasury, asked dolefully.

“Please, don't bring that up,” groaned Louis Howe, the president's special economic aide and best friend.

President Roosevelt, who'd been confined to a wheelchair since 1921 (his legs were paralyzed by polio), turned the wheels of his chair to the Cabinet now and flashed his famous grin. “My friends, I say again, the only thing we have to fear is fear itself!” the president cried cheerfully.

“Ah, baloney,” said Ickes, shaking his head as he and the others slumped deeper in gloom around the gleaming mahogany conference table.

“Every cloud has a silver lining?” suggested President Roosevelt. The members of the Cabinet sighed.

“In the words of radio's Bert Healy, ‘Smile, darn ya, smile,'” President Roosevelt said hopefully. The members of his Cabinet grimaced and looked gloomier than ever. A Marine guard entered the Oval Office with a gold-bordered calling card, which he handed to Louis Howe.

“Oliver Warbucks and friend, Mr. President,” Howe read from the card.

“Friend?” questioned President Roosevelt. “I don't know who his friend can be. But, in any case, show them in.”

“Yes, sir,” said the guard, and a moment later he ushered Mr. Warbucks and Annie into the office.

“Ah, Oliver, how good of you to come.” President Roosevelt smiled, shaking Mr. Warbucks's hand. Annie, who was wearing a blue-and-white organdy dress that Miss Farrell had specially bought for the trip to Washington, stood half hidden behind Mr. Warbucks. She was awed to find herself in the presence of no less a man than the president of the United States. “And, ah, who is this we have here?” asked the president, spying Annie.

“Mr. President, this is my good friend Annie,” said Mr. Warbucks. “She so wanted to meet you that I couldn't resist bringing her along. Just to say hello.”

“Annie?” President Roosevelt was confused. But then he remembered. “Ah, yes, of course—the little girl who spoke so beautifully on the radio last night.”

“How do you do, Mr. President Roosevelt?” murmured Annie, nervously shaking hands with the president.

“How do you do, Annie?” said President Roosevelt. “You're as lovely as you sounded on the radio.”

“Thank you, Mr. President Roosevelt,” Annie quietly answered.

“Well, shall we begin our meeting?” asked President Roosevelt, wheeling his chair to the head of the conference table.

“Annie, if you'll wait outside,” whispered Mr. Warbucks to Annie, “I'll be out in—”

“No, no, Oliver, Annie can stay,” the president declared. “Having a child on hand will keep us on our best behavior.”

“Thank you, Mr. President,” said Mr. Warbucks. He and Annie found seats for themselves at the far end of the conference table.

“Now, damn it, wait a minute, this isn't a kindergarten for . . .” began Ickes, angrily frowning. A sixty-year-old curmudgeon, Ickes was well known for his short temper and his blunt use of four-letter words.

“Harold, while Annie is in the room I don't want to hear even so much as a ‘gosh' out of you,” commanded President Roosevelt with a smile. The president now introduced Annie to the Cabinet members, all of whom, except Ickes, warmly shook her hand. And then the meeting began.

“Now, Oliver, since you speak for those happy few Americans who have any money left,” said President Roosevelt, “I'd like to begin with your view on matters.”

“Mr. President, in the words of that great Republican Calvin Coolidge, ‘The business of this country is business,'” pronounced Mr. Warbucks, rising to his feet. “And for the good of you, the country, Wall Street, and
me
, we've got to get my factories open and the workers back to work.”

“I agree,” spoke up Miss Perkins, a doughty middle-aged spinster who was wearing a tricorn hat. She was the first woman ever to serve as a Cabinet member. “According to my latest Department of Labor figures, there are now fifteen million Americans out of work and nearly fifty million—half the population of this country—with no visible means of support or—”

“Mr. President, if I may say so, unemployment is
not
our worst problem,” interrupted Cordell Hull. As secretary of state, Hull was mainly concerned with foreign relations. “The dispatches from Germany are becoming more and more disturbing each day,” Hull went on. “There could be war.”

“Germany, hell!” growled Ickes. “People are starving in this country.”

“Harold, I know that,” said Hull, “but in the long run they—”

“Cordell,” broke in President Roosevelt, raising his hand for silence, “for people who are starving there is no ‘long run.' ”

“The trouble is, everything is going wrong at once,” said Morgenthau unhappily. “The stock market has taken another nosedive.”

“Sit-down strikes, riots, floods, dust storms,” grumbled Ickes.

“And the F.B.I. still hasn't caught Public Enemy Number One, John Dillinger,” added Howe.

“Well, at least we're all agreed on one thing,” President Roosevelt said with a wry grin. “The situation is hopeless and getting worse.”

At the far end of the table, Annie had sat quietly listening to all of this. But now, scarcely realizing what she was doing, she spoke up boldly. “The sun'll come out tomorrow,” said Annie. “Bet your bottom dollar that tomorrow there'll be sun!”

“Shush, quiet, little girl,” snapped Ickes.

“Harold!” reprimanded President Roosevelt, shaking his finger to silence Ickes. “What did you say, Annie?”

Annie looked shyly around at Mr. Warbucks and the others, surprised at herself and frightened that she'd spoken up in a White House Cabinet meeting. “No, that's all right, Annie,” said President Roosevelt soothingly. “Go ahead, my dear. It's still a free country, with free speech, where everyone gets to have his or her say.”

Annie took a deep breath and spoke up again. “Well, I figure that if you can just think about the good things that might be comin' tomorrow instead of about the bad things that are happenin' today, you could sorta get started on makin' those good things come,” Annie said, and she want on to explain the simple optimistic philosophy that had gotten her through all of her years in the orphanage. As she spoke, President Roosevelt and the members of his Cabinet slowly began to smile, and the gloom that had pervaded the room miraculously began to lift. Suddenly, everyone, including Harold Ickes, was inspired with a new sense of hope. And, excitedly, they began jotting down ideas on the notepads in front of them on the conference table.

“Annie,” President Roosevelt declared when she'd finished speaking, “while listening to you I just decided that if my administration is going to be anything, it is going to be optimistic about the future of this country!”

“Well said—I agree!” cried Miss Perkins enthusiastically.

At this moment, a Marine guard entered with a telegram for President Roosevelt. “Excuse me, everyone,” murmured the president, opening the telegram and silently scanning it. “Wait, this isn't for me,” said the president, “it's for you, Oliver, from your secretary in New York, ‘Hundreds of couples jamming street outside house, all claiming to be Annie's parents. Have begun to screen them. Suggest you return to New York at once.' Signed, Grace Farrell.”

“Well, I'll be darned,” Mr. Warbucks said. “It looks as though
The Oxydent Hour of Smiles
has even more listeners than we realized, huh, Annie?”

“Gee, hundreds of couples!” exclaimed Annie, leaping happily to her feet. “One of them is bound to be my real mother and father!”

“Well, Oliver, as much as I'm enjoying your company,” President Roosevelt said smiling, “and especially yours, too, Annie, I suspect you'd better get back to New York immediately.”

“Yes, Mr. President, if you don't mind,” said Mr. Warbucks, taking Annie by the hand. “Come along, Annie.”

“Bye, everybody,” Annie called.

“Bye, Annie,” answered the members of the Cabinet.

“Good-bye, Mr. President, and thank you,” Annie said, awkwardly curtsying.

“No, thank
you
, Annie—you're the kind of person a president should have around him,” responded President Roosevelt, casting a sidelong glance at Ickes and the others. Annie gave President Roosevelt a quick kiss on the cheek and ran off, hand in hand with Mr. Warbucks. Outside, by the East Gate, Annie and Mr. Warbucks got into a limousine that—led by a siren-blazing escort of motorcycle policemen—sped to Union Station and the special train that was waiting to take them back to New York. Meanwhile, in the Oval Office, President Roosevelt and the members of his Cabinet were fired up with the new spirit of optimism that Annie had awakened in them.

“Mr. President, what if we set up a hundred or even a thousand new federal projects?” Ickes cried excitedly, banging his fist on the conference table.

“Yes, like building new dams that would at the same time provide cheap electric power and create fertile new farmlands from thousand of acres that are now underwater,” Morgenthau suggested.

“We could build new highways, too,” said Miss Perkins.

“And post offices,” contributed Hull.

“And, of course, put the unemployed to work building them,” Ickes added.

“A wonderful idea,” said Miss Perkins. “We could create five million new jobs within six months.”

“And weekly paychecks would get all of those millions off federal assistance and back to paying taxes,” Morgenthau explained.

“We'll build a country so strong that nobody, including Chancellor Hitler, could ever defeat us in a war,” said Hull eagerly.

“The F.B.I. caught Baby Face Nelson, didn't they?” asked Hull. “They're bound to catch Dillinger.”

“Mr. President,” urged Ickes, getting eagerly to his feet, “what we've got to give this country is nothing less than a new . . . outlook.”

“A new . . . vision,” said Miss Perkins.

“A new . . . approach,” said Hull.

“A new . . . concept,” said Morgenthau.

“A new . . . dedication,” said Ickes.

“A new . . . horizon,” said Miss Perkins.

“A new . . . spirit,” said Hull.

“A new . . . attitude,” said Morgenthau.

“No, I know what we've got to give the American people,” cried President Roosevelt, as the Cabinet members grouped expectantly around him. “We've got to give them . . . a New Deal!” The Cabinet members smiled and applauded—the president had hit on exactly the right phrase to describe what they wanted to do for America. “Miss Perkins, gentlemen,” President Roosevelt went on, “I was right the first time. The only thing we have to fear
is
fear itself!”

And so it was that, because of Annie, Franklin D. Roosevelt's famed New Deal, which lifted the United States out of the worst depression in its history, was dreamed up in the White House one gray day in 1933. Or at least so says one version of that long-ago event.