(January 3, 1949)

His election was a personal victory almost without historical parallel; a victory of the fighting spirit. Whatever their politics, the nation's common people found in his election a great emotional satisfaction. He had humbled the confident, discomfited the savants and the pollsters, and given a new luster to the old-fashioned virtues of work and dogged courage. The year 1948 was Harry Truman's year.

Harry Truman began his year of triumph a sorely beset man. He was popular with almost nobody. The country grinned at the G.O.P. jeers: "Don't shoot the piano player, he's doing the best he can," "To err is Truman," "I'm just mild about Harry." Eastern wags even gibed at his farmer's habit of rising early: he did it only to have more time to put both feet in his mouth.

Few men have been able to communicate their personality so completely. He never talked down to his audience. He showed no shadow of pompousness. He introduced his wife as "my boss," sometimes as "the madam." "I would rather have peace than be President," he cried. He never had to remind his audience that he had been a Missouri farmer, a man who could stick a cow for clover bloat and plow the straightest furrow in the country, a small-time business-man who could still twist a tie into a haberdasher's knot. When he stumbled over a phrase or a name, he would grin broadly and try again. Newsmen snickered and politicians winced. But his audiences smile sympathetically. they knew just how he felt. "Pour it on, Harry," they cried, "Give 'em hell!"