The 100 Daze
Stumbling from FDR to DJT
I like to write about the junction of my passions for teaching and learning, history and politics. Last week, by pure chance, I found myself at the junction of past and present while teaching about Franklin Delano Roosevelt’s storied first 100 days on Trump’s 100th day in office. What a dreadfully stark contrast.
In the spring of 1933, America was in a mood. The kind of mood where Wall Street just belly-flopped off a skyscraper and banks were locking their doors tighter than a speakeasy in a raid. Unemployment had skyrocketed to 25%, unimaginable today. It was into this dust bowl of despair that Roosevelt staggered into the presidency, top hat tilted, cigarette holder cocked, and optimism reflecting from his pince-nez.
And what did FDR do in his 100 days? Did he golf for 24 of the 100?
He worked. He worked like a caffeinated raccoon locked in a policy file cabinet.
I want to write about those hundred days—not because America was perfect afterward, but because it’s one of those times in American history when the government said, “hold my beer” and got to work to make American lives better.
FDR took office on March 4, 1933, amidst what historians call “a legit shitshow” and economists call “an existential crisis of WTF proportions.” Americans were lining up anxiously—not for iPhones or $8 lattes—for bread, for soup, and for hope.
FDR didn’t Tweet or Truth. He Fireside Chatted. He didn’t sell NFTs, he sold Americans on the idea that their government can and will serve the people.
During those first 100 days, Roosevelt passed 15 landmark pieces of legislation, launched program after program, leveraged executive authority to regulate Wall Street, and resuscitated a wheezing economy.
During his first few hours—yes, hours—FDR declared a Bank Holiday. This was hardly a festive event with a parade and balloon animals. This was: every bank is closed until we figure out what in the actual hell is going on. Roosevelt expressed the need for a Bank Holiday in his first Fireside Chat. He communicated in a calm and cool manner. He explained the circumstances. He even spoke in full sentences without insulting anyone. And it worked. Within days, confidence surged, people stopped hiding money in mattresses, and the banking system began to stabilize. Providing stability in a time of crisis. How antiquated.
Then came the Emergency Banking Act. Congress passed it in seven hours (yes, the legislature legislated, in a timely manner no less). This law allowed the government to inspect banks and decide which ones were naughty and which ones were nice.
FDR also brought banks into a new collective insurance program, the Federal Deposit Insurance Corporation.
The results were immediate and extraordinary. People started putting their money back in banks. Confidence, the quiet engine of capitalism, was coaxed back into the room.
Shortly thereafter, the new Glass-Steagall Banking Act separated commercial banking from investment banking, basically telling banks: “If you want to be boring and hold people’s money, fine. If you want to be a thrill jockey and bet it all in a Wall Street poker game, great. But pick a lane.” It was the financial version of separating church and state, if churches had been conspiring to steal your lunch money.
Glass-Steagall set the stage for the Securities and Exchange Commission, which went to Congress in early 1934. Wall Street had been treating the stock market like a roulette table. Roosevelt created the SEC to regulate the market, prevent fraud, and keep oligarchs from crashing markets for shits and giggles. Today, some would rather let meme stocks and cryptic crypto tweets dictate economic policy. DOGE may be a bitcoin, but it is not an economic plan.
With rapid progress on banks and markets, Roosevelt was just getting warmed up.
On March 21, 1933 FDR sent a request to Congress (you might recall Congress from Article I of the U.S. Constitution, it used to have a governing function) for a Civilian Conservation Corps. Congress passed and FDR signed the CCC ten days later. The CCC paid young men to go dig holes, plant trees, build trails and bridges, and generally be the world’s most wholesome labor force. It was a tree-hugging boot camp with paychecks. Three million Americans ages 17-28 got food, shelter, clothing, and a sense of purpose. Also, they helped make America beautiful and verdant. It’s almost like they were making America great again.
Of course, not everyone was suited for the CCC. Some folks just needed help.
The Federal Emergency Relief Administration gave direct aid to the unemployed. A radical idea at the time, still radical in some circles today. Roosevelt believed people shouldn’t starve while waiting for trickle-down economics to work its magic. His close advisor Harry Hopkins famously said, "people don’t eat in the long run. They eat every day."
Feeding people was America's main business in 1933. The backbone of the economy, farmers were facing an existential crisis. The Agricultural Adjustment Act was an attempt to save farmers who were plowing more dirt than profits. The AAA paid them not to farm, which sounds odd until you realize that farmers were growing so much food that prices had crashed through the basement. Less farming meant higher prices. It was the government saying, “we love what you do, but maybe do less of it.” And it worked!
Still in the first 100 days here, the FDR Brains Trust sent the Tennessee Valley Authority bill to Congress. The TVA brought electricity to places that had never seen a lightbulb. It dammed rivers, built infrastructure, and turned swampland into economic opportunity.
The TVA is one of the most extraordinary modernization campaigns of the 20th century (think China in the 21st century, without the accompanying authoritarianism). When Ronald Reagan, a New Deal Democrat for the first half of his career, cried that the nine most dangerous word in the English language are, “I'm from the government, and I'm here to help,” he was quite obviously and intentionally distorting even his own history. The TVA helped millions. Compare the TVA to Trump’s infrastructure plan which is best described as the Schrödinger’s cat of policies: both dead and never alive.
Not limited to the Tennessee Valley, the Roosevelt government had plans. Big plans! The best plans. Plans to build America. The Public Works Administration built bridges, schools, hospitals, and more. FDR believed that the government should put people to work building things of lasting value. Instead of vanity projects and golden toilets, the PWA built the foundations of modern America.
The New Deal wasn’t perfect. It failed to address structural inequalities. There were inefficiencies. The New Deal did not adequately serve African-American populations. The CCC and WPA were racially segregated. Moreover, to the chagrin of his wife Eleanor, one of the finest Americans ever IMHO, the New Deal kept women on the sidelines. Huge opportunities missed there. But the New Deal tried. It innovated. It employed 8.5 million people through the Works Progress Administration alone, building bridges, airports, post offices, and—bless it—murals.
The scale, urgency, and moral vision were undeniable. Roosevelt's team wasn’t afraid to try things, admit failure, and try again. That’s governance. That’s courage. That made America great.
In the face of an actual, gut-wrenching crisis—when democracy looked brittle and capitalism needed CPR—the Roosevelt administration built things. Parks. Power lines. Trust.
FDR's first 100 days redefined what was possible in the American political ecosystem. The New Deal was just that. A New Deal for the American people. A deal that established Social Security, labor protections, unemployment insurance, and the idea that the American government can be a force for good.
100 days can lay the foundation for hope or pave the road to ruin. Building things takes time; breaking things takes but a moment. Roosevelt chose to build.
FDR might be best known for saying that, “The only thing we have to fear is fear itself.” Turns out he was wrong. We should also fear apathy, cynicism, and the foolish, historically inaccurate belief that the government can’t help us.
But for 100 days in 1933, Roosevelt gave America a different story. One of courage, creativity, and community.
It was extraordinary how quickly we built. And how extraordinary it is—when we’re not careful—how quickly we can tear it all down.
Yours,
DL
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