The Second Most Powerful Man in the World

Description

The life of Franklin Roosevelt’s most trusted and powerful advisor, Admiral William D. Leahy, Chief of Staff to the Commander-in-Chief

“O’Brien’s biography at last gives Leahy his due.”—John Lewis Gaddis • “Fascinating… greatly enriches our understanding of Washington wartime power.”—Madeleine Albright • “Beautifully written and thoroughly researched.”—Douglas Brinkley • “Transforms our understanding of America’s wartime decision-making.”—Hew Strachan

Aside from FDR, no American did more to shape World War II than Admiral William D. Leahy–not Douglas MacArthur, not Dwight Eisenhower, and not even the legendary George Marshall. No man, including Harry Hopkins, was closer to Roosevelt, nor had earned his blind faith, like Leahy. Through the course of the war, constantly at the president’s side and advising him on daily decisions, Leahy became the second most powerful man in the world.

In a time of titanic personalities, Leahy regularly downplayed his influence, preferring the substance of power to the style. A stern-faced, salty sailor, his U.S. Navy career had begun as a cadet aboard a sailing ship. Four decades later, Admiral Leahy was a trusted friend and advisor to the president and his ambassador to Vichy France until the attack on Pearl Harbor. Needing one person who could help him grapple with the enormous strategic consequences of the war both at home and abroad, Roosevelt made Leahy the first presidential chief of staff–though Leahy’s role embodied far more power than the position of today.

Leahy’s profound power was recognized by figures like Stalin and Churchill, yet historians have largely overlooked his role. In this important biography, historian Phillips Payson O’Brien illuminates the admiral’s influence on the most crucial and transformative decisions of WWII and the early Cold War. From the invasions of North Africa, Sicily, and France, to the allocation of resources to fight Japan, O’Brien contends that America’s war largely unfolded according to Leahy’s vision. Among the author’s surprising revelations is that while FDR’s health failed, Leahy became almost a de facto president, making decisions while FDR was too ill to work, and that much of his influence carried over to Truman’s White House.“Whether it’s the conferences at Tehran, Yalta, or Potsdam, Admiral Leahy stands out in the iconic photographs, in full uniform, just behind the Big Three. Why, though, was he there, and in so many other places that shaped the conduct of World War II and the early Cold War? As if more impressed by the uniform than by the man, historians until now have struggled to say. Phillips Payson O’Brien’s biography at last gives Leahy his due, and in doing so shifts our understanding of the other great figures of that era. We’re all going to have some serious rethinking to do.”—John Lewis Gaddis, professor of military and naval history at Yale University and Pulitzer Prize-winning author of George F. Kennan: An American Life
 
“With his fascinating new biography of Admiral William D. Leahy, Phillips Payson O’Brien takes readers behind the closed doors of Franklin Roosevelt’s White House to reveal how the biggest strategic decisions of World War II were actually made. The Second Most Powerful Man in the World greatly enriches our understanding of Washington wartime power.”—Former Secretary of State Madeleine K. Albright
 
“Phillips Payson O’Brien’s The Second Most Powerful Man in the World is a beautifully written and thoroughly researched biography of Admiral William D. Leahy. In so many ways, Leahy was FDR’s indispensable strategist. In these pages are magnificent stories about Pearl Harbor, Vichy France, and Winston Churchill. Highly recommended!”—Douglas Brinkley, professor of history at Rice University and New York Times bestselling author of Rightful Heritage: Franklin D. Roosevelt and the Land of America
 
“In the story of how Allied strategy was determined in World War II, there has long been a major gap. What made the relationship between Roosevelt and his Joint Chiefs actually tick? In this readable and revisionist biography of William D. Leahy, Phillips Payson O’Brien provides an answer that transforms our understanding of America’s wartime decision-making. Leahy has been hiding in plain sight. Now that he has found his spotlight, we shall need to rethink some of our most cherished assumptions.”—Hew Strachan, Emeritus Fellow of All Souls College, Oxford, and author of The Direction of War

“A welcome biography of Franklin Roosevelt’s closest advisor . . . A lucid, opinionated life of a man who exerted far greater influence than historians give him credit for—and a book sure to invite spirited argument from historians who disagree.”—Kirkus Reviews (starred review)

“Engaging . . . Excels at relating the political maneuvering that allowed [Leahy] to repeatedly upstage better-known historical figures including George Marshall and Douglas MacArthur . . . This is a solid and informative account of a relatively underdiscussed influence on Cold War policies, worldviews, and relationships that still matter today.”—Publishers Weekly

“An excellent biography of perhaps the most notable navy officer in American history, and one of the most important, if neglected, figures in World War II history.”—Library JournalPhillips Payson O’Brien is a professor of Strategic Studies at the University of St. Andrews in Fife, Scotland. Born and raised in Boston, he graduated from Trinity College in Hartford, Connecticut, before working on Wall Street for two years. He earned a PhD in British and American politics and naval policy before being selected as Cambridge University’s Mellon Research Fellow in American History and a Drapers Research Fellow at Pembroke College. Formerly at the University of Glasgow, he moved to St. Andrews in 2016.

Chapter 1

The Education of a Naval Officer

William Daniel Leahy died with a crooked nose and little money. The two were related, and it’s best to start with the money. Upon his death in 1959, his net worth was shockingly small, considering he had spent more than a decade as one of the most powerful men in the world, shaping America’s military and diplomatic policy while hobnobbing with the rich and famous. His property, savings, and investments combined were valued at only $113,903, a sum worth just over $900,000 today. This would mark his economic status as lower middle class. This surprisingly small figure was mostly the result of choice, with a dash of bad luck. Throughout American history, senior military and political figures have used their positions and influence to enrich themselves, becoming high-paid lecturers, media personalities, business executives, or lobbyists. Leahy could have done so as well, yet he chose not to.

Economically cautious, he learned early to get by with little in the way of luxuries, a lesson that held for the rest of his life. He was born in Hampton, Iowa, on May 6, 1875, to Michael Arthur Leahy and his wife, Rose Mary Hamilton, both first-generation Americans of Irish-born parents. Like many a son of Irish immigrants, William was told by his paternal grandmother, Mary Eagan Leahy, a native Gaelic speaker from Galway, about how his family had been great chiefs in the west of Ireland before being dispossessed by the hated British. The last Leahy chief had supposedly fought for the Catholic king James VII at the Battle of the Boyne in 1690, the loss of which spelled the end of the family’s prosperity. Mary Eagan had immigrated to America with her husband, Daniel Leahy, in 1836, and they had moved steadily westward from New England to Wisconsin, where they raised their four sons, including Michael.

Michael was one of those second-generation Americans who lived on the edge of success without ever seemingly reaching the Promised Land. At the age of twenty-four, he graduated from the University of Wisconsin with a law degree. With the Civil War raging, he enlisted in the 35th Wisconsin Regiment and was commissioned a captain, a sign that he had achieved a certain level of educational and social attainment. After the war, he embarked on a career in law and politics. In 1868, he decided to move to Hampton, Iowa, a farming community, to start a new life. There he married Rose, opened his law practice, and entered politics, being elected to the state legislature in 1872.

Little today is known of Rose. Three years after her husband’s electoral victory, she gave birth to their first son, William Daniel Leahy. From William’s birth certificate we know that she was twenty-four years old when he was born, thirteen years younger than her husband, but little else. Her son’s diary leaves the impression he was emotionally distant from his mother-the detached, formal nature of the diary was indeed a reflection of his character-but in fact he loved her dearly.

Michael gives the impression of treading water in Iowa. He and Rose continued producing children-they would have five more sons and a daughter-while Michael continued getting reelected to the state legislature. Yet he could rise no further, and in 1882 he packed up his large family and moved back to Wisconsin. The Leahys settled first in Wausau, in the middle of the state, where Michael’s brother had established himself as a prominent lumber merchant. Once again, success eluded him, and in 1889 he moved the family to Ashland in the far north of Wisconsin.

Ashland was the city with which William Leahy would most identify his youth, and one can see why Michael chose it. By 1890 Ashland had grown into a bustling little transport hub, servicing America’s burgeoning industrial economy. Situated on an excellent harbor on Lake Superior, Ashland expanded because of its access to the rich iron ore veins, timber stores, and copper mines of northern Wisconsin and the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. Rail lines were built linking Ashland to these resources and they poured into the city, where they were put on ships and moved to the factories of the lower Midwest. It grew from almost nothing in 1880 to more than 13,000 people by 1900-more than 50 percent larger than it is today.

When the Leahys arrived, Ashland still had a whiff of the frontier. The Chippewa Indian Nation, which had dominated the area before whites piled in, remained a significant presence, and for the rest of his life Leahy felt a connection to the tribe. Though we might scoff at it now, he felt proud to be made a member of the Chippewa in the 1930s. Ashland itself was ramshackle, a jumble of new, ever-changing buildings linked by dirt roads and wooden walkways. Leahy’s time there seems completely ordinary. He went to high school, where he did enough work to get by but was not a standout student. He developed his lifetime interest in fishing, hunting, and football.

While playing a rowdy game of football one day, Leahy’s nose was broken. As he could still breathe through it, and the family had little spare money, he left it untreated. Sixty years later, Adm. Chester Nimitz noticed the defect for the first time when his eye was drawn to the crooked nose in a portrait of Leahy being painted by well-known naval artist Albert Murray. “You fellows have known me ever since my late teens and never seen it any other way,” Leahy responded when Nimitz asked about his nose, “so you thought it was normal and it never even occurred to you that it was bent out of place like it really is.”

His family’s lack of money helped to shape Leahy’s desires. It certainly made him resourceful and at the same able to cope without many possessions. On the other hand, it also made him want to get the hell out of town. Though Leahy would later remember Ashland fondly, when he graduated from high school he wanted out. Michael hoped that his eldest son would follow in his tracks and study law at the University of Wisconsin, but for William that option held little appeal. His great hope was to secure admission to the US Military Academy at West Point, but there were no appointments available from local members of Congress. One did, however, have an open slot for Annapolis, as naval positions were less prized by the boys of the Midwest. Leahy jumped at the chance, hopped on a train to Maryland, and never looked back.

Later in life Leahy would reminisce about having developed a love of sailing ships by watching them cruise in and out of Ashland’s port, but that seems to have played only a minor role in his choice. Going to Annapolis provided three things that suited his nature. First, it offered the opportunity for adventure. Though Leahy would later be seen as a grumpy, parochial exemplar of Middle America, as a young man he wanted to see the world, and the navy allowed him to spend many exciting, interesting years living outside the United States. Second, it allowed him to live a life of national service. Michael Leahy had raised his children to see themselves first and foremost as Americans, not Irish Americans. In the Leahy household, there were no divided loyalties or identities, and this had a huge impact on young William. Finally, a career in the navy held out the possibility of service with financial security. William Leahy, not a natural businessman, always seemed uncomfortable dealing with money and investments. A career in the navy meant he could combine love of country and the values for which he believed it stood, in a career that provided stability. That he eventually liked being at sea was gravy on top.

When he boarded the train to Annapolis in 1893, the trip alone was a gamble. Those who were offered appointments were still required to take an entrance examination, and that was only on offer at the academy itself. If a student failed, he typically returned to his hometown in disgrace, sometimes suffering the indignity of having to pay for his own transportation. Fortunately, Leahy, somewhat to his surprise, made it through the exam process and was welcomed into United States Naval Academy as a new midshipman.

The first thing he had to learn was how to sail. It is an interesting side note to history that the highest-ranking American military officer when the first atomic bomb was dropped had learned to sail on the USS Constellation, a ship of wooden walls and cloth sails that had been commissioned in 1855 and had seen extensive service during the Civil War. A sailor’s life on board the Constellation was closer to that of the Napoleonic era than to the days of steam and iron, much less the atomic age. Leahy remembered standing night watch in a masted crow’s nest high up in the rigging. Yet his time on the ship was no romantic adventure. The cruise was supposed to last all summer, taking the young crewmen to Europe and back to learn their craft. Yet the Constellation was in a sorry state, smelly and leaky, and she broke down before reaching Europe. The crew had to stop in the Azores before the old ship could be made right to sail back to America.

Once back, the real naval education commenced. Leahy was one of the last midshipmen to pass through an unreformed Naval Academy. His small class was educated in the unforgiving environment of the nineteenth century. Annapolis was famous for its hazing and harsh discipline, and its education was geared toward creating assimilation and cohesion. An entire class could be punished for one midshipman’s mistake. Once, when a slop jar (or piss pot) was rolled down the stairs after taps, every member of the class was forced to stand at attention in the middle of the night until the guilty prankster confessed. Normal hazing was done by upperclassmen to underclassmen, and could involve humiliations, physical tests, and even beatings. When the academy’s hazing became public in a 1921 scandal, Leahy forcefully called for the practice to be “stamped out.”

Hazing could be particularly brutal when directed at those considered different. The US Navy was a monoculture, one of the least inclusive organizations of its day, overwhelmingly white, middle-class, and Christian. The first African American midshipman to enter the academy, twenty years before Leahy, was hazed so cruelly that he was forced out. He was beaten regularly and at one point his classmates even tried to drown him. From there on out, African Americans were practically nonexistent and Jews extremely rare.

The punishments were harsh, but the system created close-knit groups, and Leahy’s class was one of the best examples. The class of 1897 was one of the most distinguished in American history and arguably the most successful that Annapolis ever produced. It included many of the admirals who dominated the service in the 1930s, including Leahy, Thomas Hart, Harry Yarnell, and Arthur Hepburn. To this day the class is the only one to have five members reach 4-star rank while on active duty (and one to reach 5-star). Four other classes have had four members reach the 4-star rank, but these all came many decades after 1897, when the Naval Academy and the navy as a whole, was far larger. The class of 1897, perhaps for this reason, remained very tight, and Leahy paid close attention to the lives and careers of many of his classmates. In return he received continuous, lifelong support.

Leahy stood out to his classmates for his level-headedness. He grew a mustache that made him look like a judge, and his classmates treated him accordingly. The best description of Leahy at Annapolis came from his classmate and lifelong friend Thomas Hart, who would go on to serve as one of the leading submariners of his generation, commander of the Asiatic Fleet in World War II, and a US senator from Connecticut. “As a student at the Academy [Leahy] was not good, a little lazy,” wrote Hart. “But when his classmates had a problem, a dispute about it, someone would say, ‘Let’s go ask Bill Leahy. He’s got a better sense than all of us put together.’ That was always true for his common sense, his wisdom, was profound all through his life.”

Though he would have been loath to admit it, Leahy’s political skills were apparent even at this young age. He possessed the ability to judge the person with whom he was interacting, decide the best way to appeal to or motivate him or her, and adjust his behavior accordingly. “Leahy was a born diplomat,” Hart remembered, “and the sort of man that always gets on with others. . . . That’s always been Leahy: fundamentally wise, quick to pluck the right answer out of the air, without any powerful cerebration; intuitive, instinctive, smart.” Despite this intelligence, Leahy was a mediocre student. He studied French (which he would speak with an atrocious accent for the rest of his life) and played tackle on the football team’s B squad. His academic results put him in the bottom third of his graduating class, 35 out of 47. When he graduated from Annapolis, he was hardly marked out for greatness.

His first assignments, however, showed that there was more to him than a below-average academic. After graduating, an Annapolis midshipman was required to serve two years at sea before being permanently commissioned into the navy. For Leahy, that meant going to war. He came of age during the Spanish-American War and the Philippine Insurrection that followed, and he was thrust into the center of both. His first ship was one of his favorites. In the summer of 1897 he was ordered to join the crew of the USS Oregon, one of the newest and most powerful battleships in the US fleet. In those days, even getting to your ship could be a test of resourcefulness. Leahy was told to report to the Oregon in “whatever port that vessel might be.” Checking around, he discovered she was supposed to be in Seattle at the time he was to board, so after a night of celebrating with his fellow graduates, he headed across the country, undoubtedly worse for wear. When he reached Seattle, he found that the Oregon had already left for Victoria, British Columbia, to help the Canadians celebrate Queen Victoria’s Diamond Jubilee. Hopping a steamship north, he landed in Port Townsend, Washington, where he found the one hotel was closed, forcing him to spend the night outside in the freezing rain. When he finally reached Victoria, he was told that the Oregon was berthed in the port of Esquimalt, a few miles away, reachable by streetcar. Thus, after a cross-country train trip and two boat journeys, Leahy arrived at his first assignment by trolley.

US

Additional information

Dimensions	1.2600 × 5.9900 × 9.0800 in
Imprint	Dutton Caliber
ISBN-13	09780399584824
ISBN-10	039958482X
Author	Phillips Payson O'Brien
Audience	General / adult
BISAC	BIO011000, BIO008000
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