Humanizing Hoover

Abstract

Any attempt to understand another human is inherently an oversimplification. Understanding Hoover requires patience and subtlety. Although he said little about himself, he wrote voluminously, and he opened himself to his close friends who, in fact, understood him quite well. Understated, he clearly revealed himself in his actions, which were consistent throughout his life. Even though Hoover grew and evolved, he never departed from seminal values emanating from his Quaker upbringing, his boyhood on the frontier, and being orphaned at nine. Yet environmental determinism does not suffice to understand Hoover. Like all individuals, he was unique. He never outgrew the child inside, a source of joy and insecurity. He forged a joyful childhood and a strong, purposeful manhood out of an environment that seemed unpromising but that in his hands was pregnant with possibilities. Hoover seized the opportunities life offered, and he was blessed with unusual gifts. He never forgot a kindness or ignored the chance to help a friend. He was strong and resilient, mentally and physically, kind and gentle and also tough and smart. To the general public of his time and generations of historians, he seemed a dull skinflint. Nonetheless, he was a fascinating man. It took time to understand him, but it was worth the effort. Those who enlisted in his early causes at Stanford, in Belgium, in the Food Administration, or at the Department of Commerce, bonded with him for life. His superb mind was not his greatest gift; it was his talent for friendship.¹