US Senate News:
Source: United States Senator Reverend Raphael Warnock – Georgia
PHOTOS: Senator Reverend Warnock Speaks to NPR in Warm Springs on the Legacy of FDR and Our Nation’s Unfinished Work
Senator Reverend Warnock was recently in Warm Springs, Georgia to commemorate the 80th anniversary of President Franklin D. Roosevelt’s (FDR) passing at the “Little White House”
FDR suffered a stroke while posing for a portrait that remains unfinished to this day and is on display on the Little White House grounds
Senator Reverend Warnock gave a keynote speech framed around the unfinished portrait and how it reflects FDR’s unfinished legacy and the unfinished work of our nation
Senator Reverend Warnock: “FDR collapsed from a stroke, never got up, and the portrait was never finished. In a real sense, that’s how we live our lives, even at our best, it is an unfinished project, an unfinished portrait. What remained was a loose watercolor sketch of his head and shoulders. It was an unfinished portrait, an unfinished presidential term, an unfinished legacy, and in many ways, the America he fought for remains unfinished. That brush may have stopped mid stroke, but what Roosevelt painted into the fabric of this nation still colors our lives today”
ICYMI from National Public Radio: 80 years after President Franklin Roosevelt’s death, Trump cuts threaten his legacy
ICYMI from the Atlanta Journal-Constitution: Georgia gathers at Little White House on 80th anniversary of FDR’s death
Above: Like FDR, Senator Reverend Warnock finds himself in good spirits under the Georgia sun in Warm Springs
Warm Springs, GA – On Saturday, April 12, on the 80th anniversary of the passing of President Franklin D. Roosevelt, U.S. Senator Reverend Raphael Warnock (D-GA) journeyed to the late president’s Little White House in Warm Springs, Georgia to deliver a keynote address honoring the unfinished legacy of FDR and the unfinished work of creating opportunities for all Americans to thrive regardless of their race, age, creed, or station in life. Ahead of his remarks, Senator Warnock saw FDR’s infamous “unfinished portrait”, a watercolor painting the 32nd president was posing for when he suffered a stroke, which he eventually succumbed to on April 12, 1945. In his remarks, Senator Warnock evoked the unfinished portrait and how it resembles the unfinished legacy and mission of FDR in creating economic, social, and political opportunity for all Americans.
“FDR collapsed from a stroke, never got up, and the portrait was never finished. In a real sense, that’s how we live our lives, even at our best, it is an unfinished project, an unfinished portrait. What remained was a loose watercolor sketch of his head and shoulders. It was an unfinished portrait, an unfinished presidential term, an unfinished legacy, and in many ways, the America he fought for remains unfinished. That brush may have stopped mid stroke, but what Roosevelt painted into the fabric of this nation still colors our lives today,” said Senator Reverend Warnock.
Above: Senator Reverend Warnock with FDR’s infamous unfinished portrait in Warm Springs
“What [FDR] accomplished was extraordinary, and much of it was inspired by the spirit of Georgia, warmed up by these Warm Springs in which he drew inspiration and motivation that he needed to rebuild an anguished nation. Over the years, after making his first journey here in 1924, President Roosevelt saw the South’s struggling economy, he saw the many challenges of our state. He saw the lack of educational opportunities. He saw the lack of electricity and family farms being foreclosed. He saw poverty and disease, both in a literal sense and in a spiritual sense. And he saw the impact of that in Georgia and on our nation. He saw a lack of good paying jobs, creating a crisis for the economy and, more importantly, a crisis in the human soul. So, as FDR came down to Warm Springs for his own healing. He saw the healing that needed to be done. You can’t lead the people unless you love the people. And in order to love the people, you got to walk with the people,” said Senator Reverend Warnock in his keynote speech.
Above: Senator Reverend Warnock signs the VIP guest book at the Little White House
“So the mission continues, the work still lies ahead. We must not give in to those who are trying to weaponize fear. FDR said, ‘We have nothing to fear but fear itself.’ Now, like all of you, I grew up hearing that, and I must admit that since I’ve been hearing it all my life, it was just, you know, something people say. ‘We have nothing to fear but fear itself.’ It’s one of those things that’s so deep in the culture you hear it without really hearing. I’m not so sure I knew what Roosevelt meant until late, because in this moment in our lives, there are those in high office who are trying to weaponize fear. There are those in high office who want us to be afraid of one another. Want white people to be afraid of Black people, and Black people to be afraid of brown people, want the young to resent the old and the old to forget about the young. We have nothing to fear but fear itself. Translation, if there’s anybody to be afraid of, we ought to be afraid of the politicians who want us to be afraid of one another. We have nothing to fear but fear itself,” Senator Reverend Warnock continued.
Following his remarks, Senator Warnock toured the Little White House where FDR was posing for the unfinished portrait. The senator surveyed the bedroom where the late president eventually succumbed to his stroke, leaving behind a nation in recovery from the Great Depression and on a path to victory in World War II. Senator Warnock also viewed the nearby pools where FDR found some relief in his battle with polio.
A transcript of Senator Warnock’s speech can be found below (lightly edited for clarity):
I want to recognize all the elected officials in the house, those who serve, those who have served, and those who seek to serve, stand up, all of you.
Thank you so very much, it’s wonderful to be here. I also want to recognize the Friends of the Little White House, the Georgia Department of Natural Resources for organizing this great event. My church, Ebenezer Baptist Church, has also supported our historic sanctuary through the work of the fine men and women of the park service and those who support that work, so I understand a little bit about what it takes to maintain a facility like this. Thank you for your service in preserving the beauty, history, and the culture of our great state. Give them a great big round of applause.
80 years ago today, April 12, 1945, was described as a sunny spring day here in Warm Springs. A president weary from war was now in good spirits under the Georgia sun. President Franklin Delano Roosevelt was no doubt looking ahead to the world that would rise from the ashes and a country still climbing towards its highest ideals. Back in his little white pine cottage that afternoon, the president was posing for a portrait as an artist was attempting to capture a giant. Some have said a picture is worth a thousand words. But as fate would have it, the man who had helped save democracy at home and around the world collapsed from a stroke.
He succumbed to what William Cullen Bryant called that mysterious realm where each shall take his chamber in the silent halls of death. Martin Luther King Jr., who reminded us that death is not an aristocracy for some, but a democracy for all. Each of us comes to that moment, the rich and the poor, those who sit high, those who sit low. Death, as Doctor King said, is life’s common denominator. We might want to think about what we want to make of our lives.
FDR collapsed from a stroke, never got up, and the portrait was never finished. In a real sense, that’s how we live our lives, even at our best, it is an unfinished project, an unfinished portrait. What remained was a loose watercolor sketch of his head and shoulders. It was an unfinished portrait, an unfinished presidential term, an unfinished legacy, and in many ways, the America he fought for remains unfinished. That brush may have stopped mid stroke, but what Roosevelt painted into the fabric of this nation still colors our lives today. An unfinished legacy, unfinished presidential term, unfinished portrait; so much wisdom and poetry, even in how he left us.
I submit that your life’s project ought to be longer than your lifespan. If you can finish your life’s project in your lifespan, then your imagination is too small, and your vision of what we can become and who we are together has yet to mature. FDR understood that. He poured himself out, a term as a pastor we use especially this time of the year, during the season of Lent, during the season of Passover, that the one in whose name you and I preach on Sunday morning submitted to what theologians called kenosis. He literally poured himself out. That’s what servant leadership looks like. Pouring yourself out for others, and in so doing, what he was able to accomplish was extraordinary, because FDR, for all his pain, he was never focused on himself. The way to find yourself is to give yourself over to something bigger than yourself, and then you might find yourself.
What he accomplished was extraordinary, and much of it was inspired by the spirit of Georgia, warmed up by these Warm Springs in which he drew inspiration and motivation that he needed to rebuild an anguished nation. Over the years, after making his first journey here in 1924, President Roosevelt saw the South’s struggling economy, he saw the many challenges of our state. He saw the lack of educational opportunities. He saw the lack of electricity and family farms being foreclosed. He saw poverty and disease, both in a literal sense and in a spiritual sense. And he saw the impact of that in Georgia and on our nation. He saw a lack of good paying jobs, creating a crisis for the economy and, more importantly, a crisis in the human soul. So, as FDR came down to Warm Springs for his own healing. He saw the healing that needed to be done. You can’t lead the people unless you love the people. And in order to love the people, you got to walk with the people.
People called to serve must be willing to walk with you, even as we work for you. So he drew inspiration and insight from being in these spaces and in these places. Struggling with polio, so much to learn about his life. I’m inspired and amazed, quite honestly, so many layers, struggling with polio. Polio, by the way, a disease that we’ve pushed back through the insights of doctors and others. Now, because of the success of those vaccines, we have an anti-vaccine movement. Privilege as a way of blinding. The reason we can have an anti-vaccine movement is because the vaccines work. Almost nobody remembers what polio looked like. So, all of a sudden, we become really profound indeed. I digress. Thank God for science; my faith has no quarrel with science.
He came here for his own healing. Somehow, being here, he was able to transform his pain into power, suffering in the sacrifice, sacrifice into salvation for others who suffer. We now live in his legacy–all of us. Social Security. Prior to FDR, for most people, when you got old, it was a sentence into poverty. Sometimes it’s easy to attack things because you don’t remember what it was like before we had it. Social Security was important then, it’s important now, and I’m going to stand up and defend it. Pathways to homeownership, minimum wage jobs, unemployment insurance, all of that, FDR. Rural electrification, job programs that build bridges and roads and restored dignity to families who had lost everything. He did more in a wheelchair than most presidents ever imagined doing sitting in an Oval Office. These weren’t just policies. These were promises aimed at restoring the dignity of work, being able to provide for your family. They represented the belief that the public servants working towards a common cause could be a force for good in people’s lives.
Between 1933 and 1940, the New Deal brought $250 million to Georgia and established agencies that offered a broad range of public works programs, including the construction of libraries, roads, schools, parks, hospitals, airports, and housing, because he understood that infrastructure is the common space that we share with one another. It is the covenant that we have with one another. Broken roads and broken bridges are indicative of a broken people. In the wealthiest nation on the planet, a broken commitment to the house that we live in together.
Perhaps no issue greater reflects Warm Springs’ impact on FDR’s policies than rural electricity. Georgia farmers and Georgia families were hit especially hard by the Great Depression. Their recovery was slowed by the high cost of electricity, which was only used in 10% of rural homes in 1935. Electric companies were simply not willing to string miles of wire to rural communities, so those people had to go without. Too often rural communities are invisible to people in power. FDR saw rural communities. One of the great characteristics of leadership is just the ability to see you.
And it is here that he was motivated to start the Rural Electrification Administration, an effort designed to bring electric power to rural areas at reasonable rates. Roosevelt cemented the connection by signing the electrification bill into law right here at the Little White House, where his first electric bill in this little house was four times greater than that of his home in New York. Somebody needed to fix that. He got busy doing it. This improved the quality of life and productivity for small farms. And Roosevelt did not stop there. He implemented policies to improve soil health and prevent erosion, provide farmers with loans to move to improved farms, and helped raise long depressed cotton prices. He understood that when you center the people rather than the politics, you have a shot at getting the policy right.
For many of these rural Georgians the federal government felt like some distant entity, long distance from where they actually live. Like so many people today, they looked at what was going on in Washington, they asked themselves, what in the heck does that have to do with me? The New Deal answered that question; the New Deal provided federal investments that they could see directly benefiting their local communities. The policy showed up where they actually live, and it offered people the hope they needed for a resilient nation to believe that their best days were ahead of them and not behind them.
He believed in the future, and not in some imaginary vision of who we used to be. He sought simply to make America great–period. Make it great not by moving backwards, but by moving forward. I stand in awe of this man. Where did he get such imagination, such grit, such determination, such love of the people–all the people. Moral courage. It makes you stand up, no matter what it looks like at the moment. Perhaps, here is the answer. He said, while suffering from polio, “When you have spent two years in bed trying to wiggle your big toe, everything else seems easy.”
He transformed his pain into power, suffering into sacrifice, and sacrifice into salvation for those who suffer. Now, it’s important to note, if we would be honest, that while the New Deal transformed America, there was still a whole lot more work to be done. This was still 1940s America. There were those who still suffer in our nation’s complicated story and still ran up against the reality of deep-seated discrimination. My own father, born in 1917, I had an older father, served for about a year, one year in the Army during World War II, all stateside. One day, he was headed home on a bus in the soldier’s uniform, and my father had to give up his bus seat because the bus driver saw a young, white teenager, and the man with a family and a soldier’s uniform had to give up his seat to a teenager. My dad had to give up his bus seat, but his son now sits in a Senate seat.
I thank God for Roosevelt’s New Deal, but my people still had a raw deal. My dad never became bitter. He believed in the future. Dr King, and those who marched alongside him, stood up and pushed the country closer to its ideals. An unfinished portrait–that’s what America is, and we have to keep painting. We have to keep adding colors and hues and nuances in order to understand what this country is all about. He was informed. He was inspired by Warm Springs. But we dare not leave this place today without mentioning somebody else. Her name was Eleanor. By every great man is a smarter woman. Brilliant and courageous in her own right.
Today in the United States Senate, I see my work as a continuation of that great patriot and so many others who tried to make America great. That is why, since entering the Senate in 2021, I have fought to expand access to affordable health care, because health care is a human right, and it is certainly something that the wealthiest nation on the planet can provide for all of its citizens, and oh, by the way, Georgia needs to expand Medicaid. I have fought to strengthen our democracy, to widen the pathways to quality education and good paying jobs. It’s good public policy, but it’s also the right thing to do. That’s right. A budget is not just a fiscal document, it’s a moral document. Show me your budget, and I’ll show you who you think matters. As I look at this budget, some of my colleagues are trying to push through the Congress right now, it passed the Senate, has now passed the House, a budget that will cut perhaps as much as $800 billion for Medicaid that would leave Social Security struggling. Forget the fact that 71% of the people on Medicaid in Georgia are children. I look at that kind of budget, I have to say that if that budget were an EKG, it would suggest that some of my colleagues have a heart problem, and they are in need of moral surgery.
So let’s make sure everybody has access to health care. That’s why I was pleased to be able to write a law to cap the cost of insulin for seniors to no more than $35 out of pocket per month. We ought to expand the Child Tax Credit. When we did it in 2021, we cut child poverty by more than 40%. Listen to me. Poverty is violence. It is violence against the human spirit and child poverty is trauma, and what’s extraordinary is that poor children do as well as they do. You can literally see in the brain the impact that poverty has on the brain of a young child. So as I stand here, I can’t forget about the fact that long before I was a United States Senator, I was a kid in Head Start. Grew up in public housing. Head Start, a good public policy, exposed me to literacy and reading and gave me a love of learning. Then I went to high school, and someone put me in an Upward Bound program and put me on a college campus so I can imagine that I could be in college and at a university, that I could study and grow. And with grit and determination, I went to Morehouse College. I didn’t have enough money to go. I often say I went to college on a full faith scholarship. I did not have enough money for my first semester.
But through hard work, some of my friends and classmates are here, through hard work, hope, and grit and determination, I was able to graduate from Morehouse College. Yes, I believe in personal initiative. Yes, I believe in personal responsibility. Yes, I believe you have to stay up late and burn the midnight oil. You got to do the work. But guess what? I did the work, but somebody still gave me a Pell Grant and some low interest student loans. You can pull yourself up by your own bootstraps, but you still need a path to get to where you’re trying to go, and that’s what good public policy can do. It gives ordinary people a chance to make the best out of their life. So we have to stand up for ordinary people. We have to stand up for farmers in this moment. Farmers are an answer to a prayer. They are literally an answer to a prayer that all of us pray. Many of us every night, give us this day, our daily bread.
So the mission continues, the work still lies ahead. We must not give in to those who are trying to weaponize fear. FDR said, “We have nothing to fear but fear itself.” Now, like all of you, I grew up hearing that, and I must admit, Brother Luke, that since I’ve been hearing it all my life, it was just, you know, something people say. We have nothing to fear but fear itself. It’s one of those things that’s so deep in the culture you hear it without really hearing. I’m not so sure I knew what Roosevelt meant until late, because in this moment in our lives, there are those in high office who are trying to weaponize fear. There are those in high office who want us to be afraid of one another. Want white people to be afraid of Black people, and Black people to be afraid of brown people, want the young to resent the old and the old to forget about the young. We have nothing to fear but fear itself. Translation, if there’s anybody to be afraid of, we ought to be afraid of the politicians who want us to be afraid of one another. We have nothing to fear but fear itself. The Bible tells us that perfect love [inaudible]. It takes courage to love, and justice is what love looks like in public.
So we remember 80 years ago today, his life was poetry, and so was his death. It must have been heartbreaking in that moment, something elegant about the way he left us. We find ourselves when we give ourselves over to something bigger than ourselves. There he was struggling with polio, trying to stand again, struggling against paralysis. Today, America is struggling to stand. We’re paralyzed today, not by polio, but by polarization. FDR never found the strength after he failed that day to stand up. He always found strength when he tried to stand up for somebody else. Perhaps that’s the lesson in this moment, these dark and difficult days, and these days of fear and polarization, and these days of tariffs–and we don’t know what the economy is going to bring tomorrow. Perhaps the lesson is that we learn to stand. When we stand up to somebody else. So stand up for children, stand up for our young people, stand up for women, stand up for the poor and the marginalized. Stand up for all of us. Stand up for
what America can be.
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