Henry Wallace left his house as usual, preparing to head to Congress, only to find himself surrounded by a crowd of reporters.
"Mr. Wallace, is it true that you're leaving the Democratic Party to form a new one?"
The question stunned him. Inside, Wallace thought: Didn't James say the news would be released in June? Why launch early? And without warning me?
As the cameras flashed and microphones closed in, Wallace's mind raced. Clearly, something had gone wrong—the news had leaked ahead of schedule. But Wallace was an old hand at politics; he knew once the cat was out of the bag, denial would only backfire. If he denied it now but admitted later, his enemies would brand him a liar. His political credibility would collapse entirely.
So, after a pause, Wallace nodded and declared:
"That's right. The Democratic Party has rotted. Truman has betrayed President Roosevelt's vision for this nation and its people. I will form a new party, run for President, and lead the American people back to that great era."
His admission confirmed the World Journal's explosive scoop.
In the hours that followed, more than thirty Democratic lawmakers announced their withdrawal from the party to join Wallace's Progressive Party. His move officially set the stage for the 1948 presidential election.
Meanwhile, in Washington, James slammed down the phone in fury. Hoover at the FBI had flatly refused to investigate who leaked the news. This premature launch had thrown James into a reactive position. But soon his mood improved—because one after another, panicked Democratic congressmen came to his office, faces pale, asking for advice. Clearly, Wallace's defection had thrown the entire party into chaos.
Nearly all of them despaired, muttering that the election was already lost.
After calming them, James thought grimly: So be it. Since it's started, we might as well go all in. He picked up the phone and called the head of Gallup Polls.
"Release it now. Time to land another blow on Truman."
At the White House, not far from Capitol Hill, Truman and his aides were urgently discussing how to respond.
Everyone in the room knew Henry Wallace was no ordinary politician. He had been Roosevelt's most trusted man and still held immense prestige. His defection and creation of a new party directly targeted Truman's re-election hopes.
"What the hell is Henry doing?!" Truman roared.
None of the aides answered. Every face was grave—they all knew how poisonous this move was. Wallace hadn't just stolen potential Democratic votes from Truman; he had exposed the party's deep fractures to the entire nation.
The American people were already weary of the Democrats' fifteen years in power. Now, they had one more reason not to vote for Truman.
Most aides silently believed Truman was finished.
Seeing their faces, Truman understood what they were thinking. He burned with anger but couldn't lash out. For a moment, he thought of Leo—that young man who always seemed to have solutions. But after their recent falling-out, Truman couldn't bring himself to call.
Just then, Louis Johnson from the campaign finance committee burst in, pale, and slammed a poll report onto Truman's desk.
Truman scanned the numbers. His face went ashen.
The March poll put him at a new low—just 23%.
It's over, Truman thought.
The others crowded around and paled in turn. John Steelman tried weakly to reassure him:
"Mr. President, we still have a chance."
"Get out! Get out!" Truman shouted, losing control.
But before the aides could leave, James walked in with a group of party elders. They hadn't even knocked.
Truman stood, glaring coldly at him. "What are you doing here?"
James, holding another copy of the poll, smirked. "Harry, we believe you need to take responsibility for Henry's defection."
"What do you mean by responsibility?" Truman frowned.
James didn't answer directly. Instead, he said:
"Because of Henry, Republican Dewey now polls three times higher than you. The Democratic Party is crumbling. Everyone agrees you are no longer fit to be our presidential candidate. For the sake of our cause, Harry, we believe you must act—step aside—and let someone else repair the damage your policies caused."
Truman clenched his fists under the table. He knew Wallace wouldn't have dared split without guarantees from someone powerful—and that someone could only be James.
But the huge poll gap gnawed at him. Even Truman himself felt he had little chance left. Confronting James publicly here, in front of all the elders, would only destroy what remained of his standing.
Grinding his teeth, he forced out: "What do you want me to do?"
James's eyes flickered with triumph, though he feigned regret.
"We believe only one man can stabilize the party now: Eisenhower."
"Eisenhower already refused to run," Truman shot back.
"That was last year. Circumstances have changed." James waved the poll. "Besides, if you—the sitting President—invite him, he may reconsider."
Truman's fists tightened. This was open humiliation. But looking at the cold eyes of James and the party elders, Truman realized they had conspired. He had no real choice. If he resisted, they would brand him selfish and disloyal to the party. His political career would be dead.
He looked to his aides, silently begging for someone to throw him a lifeline. But one by one, the usually clever men lowered their heads.
They knew Truman was finished. Their own careers depended on staying in the elders' favor. Why risk sinking with a doomed ship?
In that moment, Truman's last hope crumbled. He thought of Leo again. Perhaps barring him from the party had been a mistake. That sharp young man always had answers—and unlike the others, Leo's fate was tied to his.
Finally, Truman slumped back and whispered: "Fine. I agree."
The next morning, under the eyes of countless reporters, Truman went to Eisenhower's residence. That afternoon, every newspaper ran the photo of him knocking at the general's door.
The headline read: "Truman begs Eisenhower to run as the Democratic candidate—General refuses."
Eisenhower gave no face to the President polling at 23%. He believed the Democrats had no chance this year.
Ironically, his refusal gave Truman a sliver of hope. That evening, Truman hosted a banquet, inviting party leaders and delivering a passionate speech, trying to rally them.
But when he finished, applause was sparse. When James stepped on stage, however, thunderous clapping shook the room.
Truman's face darkened like storm clouds.
James tapped the microphone, towering over Truman like a predator toying with prey. With a mocking smile, he addressed the room:
"I know you're disappointed by the general's refusal. But as party whip, serving the Democratic cause, I would never come with only one plan. While our President visited Eisenhower, I invited another of our party's most respected figures—Supreme Court Justice William O. Douglas. Justice Douglas has agreed to represent the Democrats in this election! He has also pledged eight million dollars in campaign funds."
Cheers erupted. Compared to Truman, Douglas's prestige and reputation were far greater. His candidacy could reverse the Democrats' decline.
Truman didn't feel the joy. Standing there, he felt like a clown, every step of his downfall orchestrated by James.
Though he had hosted the banquet, the spotlight shifted entirely to James. Desolate, Truman slipped out of the Jefferson Hotel. Only Louis Johnson, the finance chairman, followed him. The other aides stayed behind to court the new power.
In the car, Truman sat in silence, staring at the looming White House. He knew he might soon have to vacate it.
Despair crushed him. Why did it come to this? he asked himself.
Before he could dwell, the phone rang. It was Thomas.
"Harry, look at the World Journal! Leo's joining the Republicans!"
Truman shot upright. Losing this election was one thing—but if his only true supporter defected, his career was finished for good.
Slamming the phone down, he ordered Louis: "Get me the World Journal. Now!"
The headline covered his humiliation at Eisenhower's door. On page two was a photo of Leo playing golf in Cincinnati with Republican leader Taft.
The caption read: "Son of Wealth meets GOP boss Taft—rumored to join Republicans."
Blow after blow shattered Truman's composure. He smashed the phone and snarled to Louis:
"Call Leo. Be polite. Tell him I request a meeting at the Lynchburg Hotel."
As Louis turned to leave, Truman stopped him.
"Tell him—it's a family gathering."
Truman knew he had lost all leverage. The balance had shifted. It was no longer Leo who needed him—it was he who needed Leo.
April in the Blue Ridge Mountains was at its most beautiful. Green hills rolled under crimson sunsets.
Leo watched with a smile as three cars pulled up. Out stepped Truman—along with his wife, son, daughter-in-law, and granddaughter. The children's laughter filled the air, breaking the ice.
Bringing the whole family showed how seriously Truman took this meeting. He had finally recognized his true position. Once, Leo had been the junior partner. Now, Truman was the supplicant.
No wonder Leo smiled. The President had finally set himself straight.
Dinner was lively. Neither man mentioned politics or past grievances. Afterward, the two slipped away to stroll in the garden.
Truman, humbled, spoke softly:
"Leo, I owe you an apology. I'm sorry I let Steelman and the others poison me into actions that harmed our friendship. I've signed the order creating the Real Estate Advisory Committee—and appointed you its chairman."
Leo smiled inwardly. Now that's more like it. But he wanted more.
"Mr. President, with all due respect, your staff is incompetent. They've sat idle while you're pummeled in this campaign."
Truman grimaced. "I don't have enough talent around me. I may lose this election, but with your support, I believe I'll have another chance."
"Why wait for the next one?"
As they walked, they overheard Truman's granddaughter ask her grandmother:
"Grandma, my classmates say Grandpa can't be President. Why do we keep going to these events?"
Her grandmother sighed, patting her head: "Think of it as humoring him in a little game."
The words stung Truman. He forced a bitter smile. "See? Even my own family thinks my campaign is a game."
"No, Harry," Leo said firmly. "If you give up now, there will be no next time. Claiming the moral high ground is your best chance. But your staff is worthless. They've never believed you could win. How can you expect them to fight for you? Only I have believed in you. Only me. Answer me now—do you have the courage to fight with everything you've got? If you do, I'll make you win. If you don't, tomorrow you'll read that I've joined the Republicans. I'll abandon you, Harry."
Who could abandon the presidency after tasting its power? Truman's eyes blazed.
"What do I do?"
"First, fire the unfit—starting with your chief of staff." Leo pulled out photos.
Truman saw Steelman laughing with James Roosevelt. He crushed the photos in rage.
"Fire him. Replace your campaign chairman with my friend Desmond. He lacks experience, but I'll guide him. Make Daniel, CFO of American Realty, your finance chair—he's the real money expert. For running mate, I recommend Thomas Morton. With us, you will win."
The demand shocked Truman. Leo wanted to replace nearly his entire team.
Truman's face darkened.
Leo leaned in. "Harry, you have nothing left to lose. Trust me."
He was right. Even if Leo's people surrounded him, as long as he won, it would be worth it.
"Fine. I'll do it. But tell me—what's the plan?"
Leo smiled. "Tomorrow I'll bring my team to Washington. At the White House, you'll see what real campaign experts look like."