The New Republic in New York

 

Written by Angus Page

“The whole point is that we are trying to impose views on blind or reluctant people.”[i] -Herbert Croly

For a little-known weekly journal of opinion The New Republic has had an enormous effect on American history. Founded by a political philosopher, one of the most influential progressive minds in American history, the influence and stance of the magazine fluctuated greatly over its time in New York. First conceived as an objective, progressive bugle from which the Editors planned to put forth their new liberalism, it was soon bent by war and collectivism into new forms, each emanating different kinds of liberal perspectives. With each successive editor, the journal’s policies have gained a new thrust, seemingly moving farther and farther from the magazine’s initial focus. Despite the vision of its founders, neither they nor successive editors could or would maintain the objective liberal magazine which they had conceived. Instead, it varied with the political climate and the positions of the successive editors.

The inception of The New Republic came when a young Dorothy Whitney met a young U.S. vice consul, Willard Straight, in Tientsin, China. Dorothy was heiress to a considerable fortune made in municipal streetcar lines by her father, William Whitney, the former secretary of state under Cleveland. Soon the young couple married and moved back to the United States where Straight’s expertise on Chinese markets made him extremely useful to J.P. Morgan. With Straight’s salary adding to Dorothy’s fortune (her father having died years earlier) they considered buying a newspaper in New York, but were instead convinced by one of their consultants, an “unusual”[ii]  man named Herbert Croly, to finance a liberal and progressive journal of opinion: The New Republic. Early in 1914, Croly assembled a talented group of editors, first enlisting Walter Lippmann, and Walter Weyl as co editors.

Herbert Croly

Croly, the principle founder and editor of The New Republic, was a leader of the Progressive Movement. His political philosophy influenced many of the leading Progressives of the time, including Theodore Roosevelt.[iii]  His book, The Promise of American Life, was one of the most influential books in American political history, even affecting the later enacted New Deal.[iv]  Croly and Walter Weyl, calling themselves “New Nationalists,” argued in favor of a strong national government in order to combat weak national institutions. He supported a strong army and navy and attacked pacifists who presumed that democracy at home and peace abroad would result from a weak America.[v]  Croly demanded strong controls by the federal government, wanted the United States to play an important role in world politics, and “envisaged a new kind of America to be achieved at the ballot box.”[vi]  The foundation of his ideas and vision for The New Republic was a devout belief in democracy.

A basic tension in Progressive thought preceding WWI was one between a liberalism centered on humanitarian and moral concerns and one based on scientific analysis.[vii]  Croly, Lippmann, and Weyl each saw science as a tool that could not only be used to master the physical world, but that would also be instrumental in mastering the social world. They believed social science “would enable man to discover experimentally those social relationships by which he could attain ‘the transcendent humanitarian goal’ in an ever changing world.”[viii]  Like many liberals of the period, the three men believed in a politics based on precise empirical knowledge and strict adherence to experimental method. Their goal for The New Republic was to create “a social and political opinion which free from moral prejudice, strain[ed] toward scientific proof, as the hypotheses of the physicist strain toward physical laws.”[ix]  “Scientific” and profoundly logical writing was highly regarded by the three editors of the New Republic. They believed that only by strictly adhering to it could a reasonable and just political society be constructed.

The first issue of The New Republic, published on November 7, 1914, was filled with observations about the war in Europe. Pieces entitled “The War and the Future of Civilization,” by Roland Usher, “Has German Strategy failed?” by Frank Simons, and the likes filled the pages. But the salient articles in the inaugural issue were a pair of unsigned articles by Lippmann and Croly, which would reveal some of the editor’s principle convictions and the image that they conceived for the perspective of the magazine in the years to come.

Walter Lippmann

Lippman’s editorial, “Force and Ideas,” was a plea for people to maintain their capacity for constructive thought during the period of violence to come. “Every sane person knows that it is a greater thing to build a city than to bombard it, to plough a field than to trample it, to serve mankind than to conquer it,” Lippmann began, deprecating the action of war. “And yet once the armies get loose, the terrific noise and shock of war make all that was valuable seem pale and dull and sentimental… Who cares to paint a picture now, or write any poetry, or to search the meaning of language, or speculate about the constitution of matter? It seems like fiddling when Rome burns. Or to edit a magazine—to cover paper with ink, to care about hopes that have gone stale, to launch phrases that are lost in the uproar? What is the good now of thinking?”

With the final example, Lippmann is thinking about the role that he and the editors of The New Republic could play in relation to the grand scale of the war. Could the Journal only be “a flower in the path of a plough?” or was there potential for them to have a great influence? Lippmann answers: “Yet the fact remains that the final argument against cannon is ideas…. We cannot abandon the labor of thought. However crude and weak it may be, it is the only force that can pierce the agglomerated passion and wrongheadedness of this disaster…. There is only one way to break the vicious circle of action, and that is to submit it to the ruthless criticism of which we are capable.”[x]

Lippmann believed that the war should constantly be under the criticism of pragmatic thought, detached from the blinding force of the battlefield, “the agglomerated passion and wrongheadedness”[xi]  that the country and politicians are prone to in the throws of war. However, Lippmann’s piece reveals only how, as a biography of Croly puts it, “clichés and simple-minded sloganeering would not satisfy the demands of detached analysis.”[xii]  It was Croly’s editorial that presented the central policies that would govern the journal’s position on American politics relating to World War One.

The editorial’s title, “The End of American Isolation” serves to illustrate Croly’s first assertion. However, he expands on his title, writing, “The self-complacent isolation of a great people has never received a ruder shock than that which was dealt to the American nation by the outbreak of the European war.” And he continues, evoking the same idea he held in his 1909 book, The Promise of American Life, to explain how the American idea that we were free from European politics and economics was a “delusion.” “The isolation which has meant so much to the United States, and still means so much cannot persist.” However, not only did he announce the end of the period of American isolation from European affairs, but he also revealed the need for a more active and centralized government. “The American nation was wholly unprepared to cope with such a serious political and economic emergency,” he wrote about the war. “It possesses no organization or equipment with which to protect its citizens against the loss and suffering caused by war.”  He continues, arguing that the nation did not possess “adequate political and business machinery” to cope with the “essentially collective business emergency” that had been caused by the first several weeks of the European war. But Croly believed that as American awareness grew, under the continuing pressures of the war on international and domestic demands, it would “bring with it a political and economic organization better able to redeem its “international and domestic obligations.”[xiii]

To finish his editorial, Croly points out America’s direct interest in the outcome (whichever way it went) of the war and their unequivocal need to assure peace among the European nations. “No matter who is victorious, the United States will be indirectly compromised by the treaty of peace. If the treaty is one which makes for international stability and justice, this country will have an interest in maintaining it. If the treaty is one which makes militarism even more ominously threatening, this country will have an interest in seeking a better substitute.”The End of American Isolationism.” [xiv]

In the years after, The New Republic was required to analyze many issues of war, peace, and domestic unrest, and throughout that time the editors tried to decide its policies based upon the principles that Croly and Lippmann expressed in that first edition: the necessity of objective and pragmatic thought divorced from the collective whims and desires of the moment, a more centralized and active national community, and America’s interest in a treaty that would maintain peace between the European nations. However, they were not always successful in this pursuit. Falling victim to the momentum of the world around them, The New Republic would eventually betray their objective principles and become embroiled in the politics of the hour.
In the early days of WWI, The New Republic was extremely sympathetic to Woodrow Wilson. Croly and Lippmann regularly visited one of his top advisors, Colonel House, at his New York apartment.[xv]  They were not fazed by America’s impending activity in the war. The three editors of The New Republic thought that WWI would be a war that would “make the world safe for democracy” and be the “war to end all wars.”[xvi]  But other editors of The New Republic did not share their enthusiasm for the war. Walter Weyl, Francis Hackett, and a salaried contributor, Randolph Bourne, were, to lesser or great extents, pacifists.[xvii]

In fact, despite Weyl and other editor’s protests, The New Republic may have been the initial cause of the United States’ entrance into WWI. Initially, the magazine strictly adhered to Wilson’s policy of “benevolent neutrality” with regard to the violence of the war in Europe, but following the German torpedoing of the Sussex, their April 22 issue contained an “Appeal to the President” where the editors proclaimed, “we must abolish the old doctrine of neutrality…. We must say that from now on the United States is not neutral. It intends to use its moral power, its economic resources and in some cases its military force against the aggressor.”[xviii]  American entrance into the war was briefly put off by the “Sussex pledge”—Germany’s agreement to refrain from attacking merchant ships—but in 1917, as anger and frustration caused the American people to call for action from the government, The New Republic could not remain immune to popular feeling and redoubled its demand for governmental action. When Wilson actually used the phrase “peace without victor” in a speech, a phrase that The New Republic had used months before to describe an ideal conclusion to the war, the journal’s influence on national affairs became clear. The New Republic played an essential role in the United States entrance to the war, even practically declaring war on Germany a year before the United States Congress.[xix]

Wilson’s speech also had a profound effect on Croly, who visited the Manhattan apartment of one of the President’s top advisors, Colonel M House, that evening. Croly told House that the speech had been “the greatest event of his own life.” After all, the central ambition of Croly’s whole life was to influence public affairs, and serve as a guide to American policy.[xx]

By the time war was finally declared, The New Republic had gained a reputation on Wall Street as a direct correspondent of the Wilson administration, which it essentially was. “I need hardly tell you,” Lippmann wrote to the President advocating compulsory service in the army, “that The New Republic and all of us are at your disposal.”[xxi]  Because of this reputation, the magazine sold out immediately every time it was distributed within the financial district.[xxii]  Because of this early influence, The New Republic attracted new writers more successfully than other magazines with similar circulation.[xxiii]  Soon after its first edition the editorial board expanded to include Alvin Johnson, Charles Merz, and George Soule.

However, as the war progressed, the editors’ hopes that the war would usher in a new age of democracy were crushed. They might have foreseen such an outcome had they recalled their own warnings. In a 1914 editorial they warned: “People with an aroused social conscience object to war not merely because it brings with it so much agony and brutality but because it diverts to essentially wasteful purpose the product of so much good human labor…. The economic and social consequences of such a step are nothing less than terrifying.”[xxiv]  Instead, the editors deluded themselves with flawed rationales for continued conflict and encouraged the allies to support continued military force in the pursuit of democratic values.

The editors’ close association with the president compromised their integrity and objective intelligence. In the end, the editors “retained profound qualms about the war’s impact.” The severe strain the war had put on U.S. institutions—by the end of the war the U.S. economy was on the verge of collapse and the end of war-time industry pushed the nation further into chaos—surprised Croly.[xxv]  Also, the war had not accomplished democratic goals that the editors had hoped it would. Because of their roles on the “Inquiry” peace planning group, Weyl wrote an enormous report for Colonel House, while Lippmann helped draft the Fourteen Points speech, which Wilson would deliver to Congress on January 8, 1918 and was intended to convince the country that the war was being fought for a moral cause and for postwar peace in Europe. However, following that involvement, both Weyl and Lippmann immediately distanced themselves from the Wilson administration and the final draft of the Treaty of Versailles[xxvi]  which demanded that Germany take responsibility for the war, make numerous concessions, and pay enormous reparations.  Lippmann denounced the imposition of reparations on Germany and German exclusion from the League of Nations. The League, he said, served principally to preserve the status quo.[xxvii]  Robert Morss Lovett recalled “Lippman’s vigorous denunciation of the treaty as… a violation of moral obligations to the world.”[xxviii]

Lippmann led the magazine’s fight against the treaty, but he “found it easier to blame Wilson,” his biographer argues, “than to accept his own complicity in believing that imperialist wars could be transformed into democratic crusades.”[xxix]  However, he and the other staff members all shared suppressed guilt over the nature of the war. “If I had to do it all over again, I would take the other side,” Lippmann later admitted. ”We supplied the Battalion of Death with too much ammunition.”[xxx]

Croly also criticized Wilson’s actions in the December 8, 1920 edition in an article entitled “Liberalism vs. War”:

The insecurity of his [Wilson’s] position betrayed him into the fatal error of consenting to a vindictive Treaty which rendered future inter-class and international wars inevitable in payment for the acceptance by Europe of a League to guarantee nominal peace. But by this time he had entirely lost touch with his fellow countrymen. They had quickly reacted from their artificially hot fit of pro-European belligerency and had replaced it with a cold suspicion of European entanglements. They interpreted the League, not as a League of Peace, but as an effort to impose on America a permanent obligation to send American soldiers to fight European quarrels.[xxxi]

Following the landslide victory of Harding over The New Republic’s nominee in the 1920 election, the conservative triumph was complete and the magazine dropped out of the mainstream for the rest of the decade.[xxxii]  Croly’s essay in the October 10 issue of the journal that year, “The Eclipse of Progressivism,” blames the collapse of the progressive movement on the “confused, scattered, distracted and impotent” opinions of its leaders, who would not “willingly pay the price.”[xxxiii]  However he neglected to see the role that The New Republic and their convoluted and often contradictory editorials may have played in the progressive movement’s incoherence and collapse. Ironically, Croly himself is one of the principal culprits of progressive incoherence. Despite his excitement at having one of his editorial phrases echoed in Wilson’s speech, which he saw as the vindication of his role as a journalist, he could not see the role he played in America’s participation in the war. Croly instead uses untrustworthy politicians as scapegoats for the demise of progressivism.

Although The New Republic was primarily a journal of political and social commentary, it also maintained an exceptional literary department under the supervision of Francis Hackett, the literary editor from 1914 to 1922. It gave extensive space to poetry, fiction, and criticism and was engaged in the controversy over imagism, a movement in poetry advocating free verse and the expression of ideas and emotions through use of images. The critic Morton Zabel credited the literary departments The New Republic and a rival journal, The Nation, with playing significant roles in the twentieth-century literary revival. The journal both provided criticism of written work, which enhance the quality of writing, and also gave many authors their first public appearance in print and provided continued support for their work.[xxxiv]

Notable contributors whose first publications appeared in The New Republic include Stephen Benet, Louise Brogan, John Dos Passos, and William Faulkner. When Benet was still a high-school senior, his “Winged Man” was published in the August 7, 1915 issue. He continued to write for the magazine through the 1920’s. Louise Brogan published her poem “Decorations” in the October14, 1916 issue. She, too, continued writing for the magazine as a regular poetry reviewer. Dos Passos was published in the October 14, 1916 edition with his piece, “Against American Literature,” which pointed out American literature’s deficiencies of content. “I defy anyone to confine himself for long to purely American works,” he wrote, “without feeling starved, without pining for the color and passion of and profound thought of other literature.”[xxxv]  Francis Hackett echoed Dos Passos’ sentiments, writing regularly on the deficiencies of American writing. William Faulkner’s first published piece was in the August 6, 1919 issue, a poem called “L’Apres-Midi d’un Faun.”

Another notable contributor was Maxwell Anderson. He was first published in the September 8, 1917 edition of the New Republic. His poem “Sic Semper” caught the attention of Alvin Johnson, who referred to it in his autobiography as a “poem of exultation over the fall of the age-old oppressive dynasties of Russia, Germany, and Austria breathing the spirit of the Peasant Revolts and the storming of Bastille.”[xxxvi]  Later, when the magazine was hiring assistant editors, Johnson remembered the poem and secured a job for Anderson. Anderson worked on the staff for about a year until antagonism between Croly and himself grew to the point where Croly fired him because of his “aggressive Western liberalism.”[xxxvii]

The second editor of the New Republic, from 1930 to 1946, was Bruce Bliven. Bliven spent the years following his graduation from Stanford in 1911 freelance writing and copywriting for advertisements until he accepted the position as the head the University of California School of Journalism from 1914 to 1916. He joined the New Republic in 1923 after two years on the staff of Printer’s Ink and four as an editorial writer and managing editor of the New York Globe. Bliven criticized the Administrations of Harding, Coolidge, and Hoover and helped to unveil the Teapot Dome scandal of the twenties. When Herbert Croly died, Bliven became the editor of the magazine, moving the editorial position of the magazine noticeably to the left over the course of the thirties in response to the influence of the great depression.[xxxviii]  “I toured the country and wrote a piece on the sufferings of the unemployed,” he said in a New York Times interview. “I visited the municipal flophouses in New York, where I saw a former symphony violinist and a once-famous doctor standing in line with hundreds of others for a free meal and a bed. In Chicago, I saw hundreds of men sleeping on the ground under Wacker Drive on a cold October night.”[xxxix]

The Great Depression was just a few months old when Bliven took Croly’s place as editor in May, 1930. He described it as “like being on a falling elevator when you don’t know how far it is to the bottom–or what you will find there.”[xl]   Though for many the depression was unexpected, Bliven claims in his autobiography that The New Republic, chiefly under the economic knowledge of editor George Soule, had been warning of the impending crash for years. Bliven explains that in the mid twenties, as factory production increased by over half, worker wages remained flat and the wealthiest one percent of the country began reaping benefits while the working class fell further into debt. As long-term debt increased at a rate three times that of the national income, Bliven and the editors of The New Republic were very critical of the Harding and Coolidge administrations, which raised tariffs, making it harder or impossible for foreign people and organizations to pay off their debt since, in the long run, the only way to pay debt across international borders is in the form of goods.[xli]

During the Depression, the circulation of The New Republic prospered because, as Bliven says, the public “wanted the hard economic analysis that we gave them, divested of any phony optimism.”[xlii]  He chastised other editors, like Colonel Robert McCormick of The Chicago Tribune, who rather than seeing a shortage of jobs, considered the hoards of jobless people to be indolent and denied the depth of the Depression. Readership increased steadily until World War II when the rate of growth increased sharply. With few consumer goods for people to spend money on, reading material was a hot commodity. Even at its peak under Bliven the magazine maintained a relatively small readership (41,000 copies a week[xliii]), but because of the composition of its subscribers—politicians, educators, editors, etc.[xliv]  —its ideas proliferated among intellectuals and students in the United States. “We do not intend to reach the United States directly,” said Bliven. “[But] there is hardly a professor of economics in the United States who does not read the new Republic and pass its ideas on in the classroom. We find our ideas reflected in unsigned editorials in newspapers, almost always without any indication of source.”[xlv]

Initially skeptical of Governor Roosevelt’s presidential qualities, the New Republic staff eventually began to sympathize with many of his policies and initiatives. But throughout his presidency they remained more loyal to the ideas of the New Deal than to Roosevelt himself. In fact, accordingly The New Republic always wanted the New Deal to go farther than it did.

At the onset of World War II, as America became embroiled in the controversy, to the great dismay of The New Republic, Roosevelt shifted his focus from implementation of the New Deal toward winning the war. The New Republic argued that the internal reforms of the New Deal would leave the United States in a better position for prolonged international conflict. They also argued that since this war, like the First, was fought in the name of democracy, it was of the utmost importance for the United States to correct the undemocratic conditions within our own borders prior to intervening in foreign politics.[xlvi]

Having been a proponent of the League of Nations between the wars, Bliven and The New Republic renewed their support for international organization in the construction of the United Nations following the Second World War. Despite the League’s inability to prevent or halt major wars, Bliven maintained it had served to prevent or mollify minor tensions before they could mount into anything more serious. In support of the U.N., he said, “If the U.N. did not exist, it would have to be invented; any organization is better than none, and we can only hope it will continue to exist until at some future date, the strong powers of the world are willing to substitute law for force.” He continues, showing his leftist stance, “The usefulness of the U.N. is highlighted by the character of its chief opponents in the United States—all the worst elements of the Far Right.”[xlvii] —A statement that sums up Bruce Bliven and The New Republic under his authority.

Following Bliven’s reign as editor of The New Republic, the magazine took a dramatic turn. It was understood that Michael Straight, William Straight’s son, who had been 14-years-old in 1930 when Bliven became editor, should grow up to have a significant role in the magazine.[xlviii] In 1946, Michael Straight’s ambition was for the magazine to gain a greater readership. He envisioned “a liberal Time.” However this proved to be a fruitless vision.

Henry Wallace

Henry Wallace, the third editor of The New Republic, was born into a family of Iowa farmers. As “progressive” farmers, Wallace’s family believed in “efficiency, innovation, planning, cooperatives, and free trade,” beliefs that formed the backbone of Wallace’s political career.[xlix]   Wallace served as Secretary of Agriculture under Roosevelt then as Roosevelt’s Vice President from 1940 to 1944 when he was displace by Truman and became the Secretary of Commerce. In September 1946, Wallace was forced to take a brief break from politics after delivering a speech critical of American foreign policy, which wound up getting him fired. The speech put him at odds with some cabinet members and the American right wing and gained him the title of “Stalinist stooge”[l]   among his detractors. However it did garner support from many liberals.[li]  So in October of 1946, less than a month after forced resignation, Michael Straight hired him as the chief editor for The New Republic since Wallace’s prestige promised to increase readership of the magazine.

With the new changes in place, the journal’s subscription jumped from 40,000 to 100,000 over the next two years. However, under Wallace’s direction and guided by Straight’s vision of ”a liberal Time,” The New Republic became more journalistic and less analytical and editorial.[lii]  Even it’s book reviews began to focus almost exclusively on political and economic problems. Obviously preparing to reenter American politics, Wallace’s editorials were always politically oriented. His hunger to gain support prompted articles designed to fit what readers wanted to hear rather than providing them with ideas and knowledge that would develop their understanding of issues.

Over his two-year span as editor of The New Republic, Wallace was seldom in the office. Instead, he was busy being seduced by members of the New Progressive Party, an essentially communist party, who eventually named him their presidential candidate for the race of 1948.[liii]  As soon as Wallace accepted the nomination he was asked to resign from The New Republic since he could not be expected to run and maintain editorial independence. He was also informed that the magazine would be supporting Truman in the upcoming election. Wallace came in fourth in the 1948 election, without gaining a single electoral vote. Recently, Wallace was added to Time magazine’s list of “America’s Worst Vice Presidents,” joining the likes of Aaron Burr and Richard Nixon. One writer later considered his presidential candidacy as “the closest the Soviet Union ever came to choosing a president of the United States.”[liv]

After Henry Wallace resigned, Michael Straight became the next editor of The New Republic and within a few months it became clear that Straight’s vision for “a liberal Time” was not working. The expense of the increased length, printing and advertisement for the endeavor greatly outweighed increased profits. The magazine was downsized, and in 1950 was relocated to Washington where it has resided since.

Contrary to its initial editors’ vision, The New Republic, from its creation in 1914 in New York until its relocation in 1950, underwent significant change molding and being molded by the politically environment of the United States. At its start its editors hoped that The New Republic would be an objective political journal, entirely based on empirical data and a scientific analysis of the world around us, acting as a liberal beacon that could lead the United States and the world to a peaceful and democratic harmony. But those very editors found themselves caught in the collective fray of WWI, and writing contrary to the scientific logic that they had set out as the grounds of the journal. They were caught up in their own personal relationships and led the country astray. At the conclusion of WWI the journal’s readership had fallen and its direction was unclear as the Progressive Movement faltered and the crestfallen Croly led it through the remainder of the 1920s. Bliven’s editorship formed the journal into something to uplift the country during the depression and move it toward reconstruction with the New Deal and toward global alliance and peace, advocating the United Nations and a global alliance.  Following Bliven’s editorship, however, The New Republic moved farthest from its initial position. Straight’s ambition for more readership caused it to abandon its highbrow political stance and move closer to the tabloid structure of its rival, Time. And with its distracted editor, Wallace, using it to bolster a communist campaign, there was no one to right the magazine’s course. By the time The New Republic left New York, it had been molded by its various editors, the collective whims of America through two wars and a depression, and had been used to support a failed presidential campaign. The magazine changed the face of American history, but contrary to the initial hope of its founding editors, it could not resist the force of America’s changes on it.

Footnotes:

[i] Wickenden, Dorothy. The New Republic Reader: Eighty Years of Opinion and Debate. New York, NY: BasicBooks, 1994. p.3.
[ii] Bliven, Bruce. Five Million Words Later: An Autobiography. New York, NY: The John Day Company, 1970. p168.
[iii] Test, George A.. “The ‘New Republic’ as a Little Magazine.” American Quarterly. Vol. 13. No. 2 (Summer, 1961): 189-91. The Johns Hopkins University Press. p.90.
[iv] Levy, David W.. Herbert Croly of The New Republic: The Life and Thought of an American Progressive. Princeton, New Jersey: Princeton University Press, 1985. p.15.
[v] Levy. p.15.
[vi] Bliven. p158.
[vii] Nuechterlein, James A. “The Dream of Scientific Liberalism: The ‘New Republic’ And American Progressive Thought.” The Review of Politics. Vol. 42. No. 2 (Apr, 1980): 167-90. Cambridge University Press. p.75.
[viii] Noble, David W. “The New Republic and the Idea of Progress, 1914-1920.” The Mississippi Valley historical Review. Vol. 38. Mo. 3 (Dec, 1951): 387-402. Organization of American Historians. p.390.
[ix] Nuechterlein. p.77
[x] “Force and Ideas.” TNR. 11/7/14. Vol. 1. Issue 1: p.7-8
[xi] Levy. 220.
[xii] Levy. 221.
[xiii] “The End of American Isolationism.” TNR. 11/7/14. Vol. 1. Issue 1: p9-10
[xiv] “The End of American Isolationism.” TNR. 11/7/14. Vol. 1. Issue 1: p9-10
[xv] Seideman, David. The New Republic: A Voice of Modern Liberalism. New York: Praeger Publishing, 1986. p.43
[xvi] Seideman. p48.
[xvii] Bliven. p160.
[xviii] “An Appeal to the President.” TNR. 4/22/16. Vol. 6. Issue 77. pp.303-305.
[xix] Levy. p231.
[xx] Levy. p231.
[xxi] Seidman. p.48
[xxii] Bliven p.161.
[xxiii] Test. p.90.
[xxiv] TNR. December 12/26/14 p5.
[xxv] Seideman. p.51.
[xxvi] Seideman. p.52.
[xxvii] Luskin, John. Lippmann, Liberty, and the Press. University, Alabama: University of Alabama Press, 1972. p.40.
[xxviii] Luskin. p.41.
[xxix] Luskin. p.45.
[xxx] TNR Herbert Croly Memorial Issue, July 16, 1930, pp.250-52.
[xxxi] Croly, Herbert. “Liberalism vs. War.” TNR. 12/8/20. Vol. 25. Issue 31, pp.35-39.
[xxxii] Seideman. p.66.
[xxxiii] Croly, Herbert. “Eclipse of Progressivism.” TNR. 10/27/20. Vol. 24. Issue 308. p.7.
[xxxiv] Test. p.90.
[xxxv] Test. p.90.
[xxxvi] Test. p.90.
[xxxvii] Test. p.91.
[xxxviii] Test. p.91.
[xxxix] Whitman, Alden “Bruce Bliven, 87, Former Editor Of New Republic, Dies at Stanford.” The New York Times. May 29, 1977.
[xl] Bliven. p.213.
[xli] Bliven. p.215.
[xlii] Bliven. p.216.
[xliii] Pells, Richard H., The Liberal Mind In A Conservative Age: American Intellectuals in the 1940s and 1950s. New York: Harper & Row Publishers, 1985. p.11.
[xliv] Pells. p.11.
[xlv] Whitman, Alden “Bruce Bliven, 87, Former Editor Of New Republic, Dies at Stanford.” The New York Times. May 29, 1977.
[xlvi] Bliven. p.260.
[xlvii] Bliven. p.264.
[xlviii] Bliven. p.265.
[xlix] Pells. p.63.
[l] Altman, Alex. “America’s Worst Vice Presidents.” Time.
[li] Bliven. p.168.
[lii] Pells. p.65.
[liii] Bliven. pp.269-271.
[liv] Altman, Alex. “America’s Worst Vice Presidents.” Time.

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