Kathleen Kudlinski - Franklin Delano Roosevelt: Champion of Freedom

If you purchased this book without a cover, you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as unsold and destroyed to the publisher, and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this stripped book.

Dear Reader:

The Childhood of Famous Americans series, seventy years old in 2002, chronicles the early years of famous American men and women in an accessible manner. Each book is faithful in spirit to the values and experiences that influenced the persons development. History is fleshed out with fictionalized details, and conversations have been added to make the stories come alive to todays reader, but every reasonable effort has been made to make the stories consistent with the events, ethics, and character of their subjects.

These books reaffirm the importance of our American heritage. We hope you learn to love the heroes and heroines who helped shape this great country. And by doing so, we hope you also develop a lasting love for the nation that gave them the opportunity to make their dreams come true. It will do the same for you.

Happy Reading!

The Editors

FRANKLIN DELANO ROOSEVELT

Champion of Freedom

Illustrated by Meryl Henderson

FRANKLIN DELANO ROOSEVELT

Champion of Freedom

by Kathleen Kudlinski

For my mother-in-law, Ann Kudlinski, with thanks for sharing stories of life in the Depression and her work as a real Rosie the Riveter in a defense plant.

Note: A portion of the proceeds from this book is being donated by the author to the fight against polio.

If you purchased this book without a cover, you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as unsold and destroyed to the publisher, and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this stripped book.

First Aladdin Paperbacks edition September 2003

Kathleen Kudlinski
Meryl Henderson

ALADDIN PAPERBACKS
New York London Toronto Sydney Singapore

Text copyright 2003 by Kathleen Kudlinski

Illustrations copyright 2003 by Meryl Henderson

All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form.

CHILDHOOD OF FAMOUS AMERICANS is a registered trademark of Simon & Schuster, Inc.

ALADDIN PAPERBACKS and colophon are trademarks of Simon & Schuster, Inc.

Designed by Lisa Vega

The text of this book was set in Adobe Garamond.

Manufactured in the United States of America

4 6 8 10 9 7 5

Library of Congress Control Number 2002107420

ISBN-13: 978-0-689-85745-4

ISBN-10: 0-689-85745-4
eISBN-13: 978-1-439-11305-9
www.SimonandSchuster.com

ILLUSTRATIONS

Good morning, Master Roosevelt. The gardener tipped his hat to Franklin. You surely do ride well for a seven-year-old.

Franklin just grinned and kicked his pony to a faster trot. His big black dog, Monk, barked with joy and romped alongside. Together they paraded across the front lawn of Springwood, the Roosevelt estate in Hyde Park, New York. Franklin was glad to be out for the hour of play after a long morning at lessons with his tutor. At the edge of their lawn, the broad Hudson River glinted in the afternoon sun. Franklin slid off Debbies back and left the pony grazing on the new spring grasses while he walked down to the water.

He checked the knots holding their boats to the dock. A steamboat paddled up the river, belching smoke. Skiffs and sloops, a ketch and a schooner hauled at their sails, steering wide to give the big boat extra space. Franklin leaned over to drag his fingers through the water and grinned. The Hudson was still too cold for swimming, but the breeze was perfect for sailing. His father would be home for tea soon, he thought. Franklin jumped to his feet, wondering what his Popsy had planned for them for the afternoon.

He glanced up the long sloping riverbank to the huge old farmhouse at the top of the ridge. The sun reflected in its windows, hiding the bustle of maids and cooks, the nanny and the tutor inside. He squinted. His mother was standing, silent and still, on the front porch. He loved how she looked in her fine dresses.

Franklin waved and she gestured calmly for him to come in. When he ran up onto the porch, she said simply, I have news. He followed his mother into her study, being careful not to step on the edges of her long skirt. Monk followed too, quiet now.

Mother sat down at her desk and folded her hands in her lap. Franklin sat on a satin chair nearby. What is it, Mother? he asked, when he couldnt stand to wait any longer.

Archibald Rogers has died, dear.

Archibald is dead? When? Franklin pictured his best friend and blinked hard to hold back tears. But, Mother, we play together every week! What happened to Archibald? Tell me!

Now, Franklin. Franklin froze at the tone in her voice. Mother didnt like it when he made a fuss. He took a shuddering breath and stared up at the portrait of his ancestor, Isaac Roosevelt. The painting had hung in Franklins home as long as he could remember. ISAAC ROOSEVELT, 1726-1794. Franklin recited the portraits label to himself from memory. NEW YORKS FIRST STATE SENATOR. It helped him to quiet down. So did Isaacs stern, proud gaze.

Archibald died of diphtheria, Son. Franklin winced at his mothers words. That was one of the awful illnesses that his parents worried aboutscarlet fever, polio, measles, appendicitis, pneumonia, diptheria. There were many more. This is most unfortunate indeed, Mrs. Roosevelt said. Franklin slid from his chair and went to stand by her. One would think, she said, that by 1889 they would have found a cure. Franklin wiped his eyes and his mother went on. Young Archibald was one of the few suitable playmates for you in Hyde Park.

With whom will I play, Mother?

Archibald had a brother, didnt he? He would be suitable. And our guests at dinner parties are always glad to speak with you, Franklin. And there are always the relatives.

Franklin wanted a hug. He threw his arms around Monk and squeezed, then leaned his cheek against the dogs shaggy fur to feel the animals warmth. Monks tail thumped against the elegant silk carpet. Mrs. Roosevelt looked sharply at the big dog, but said nothing. Franklin loosened his arms around the dog. It licked him as he stood up. Franklin cleared his throat and stared at the Bible on the shelf below the portrait. His name was in there. The big old book was written in Dutch. It had been passed down through the family for generations and every birth and death and marriage was recorded there. He concentrated, trying to picture his page and its spidery writing: