Thomas A. Bailey: His Impact

RAYMOND G. O’CONNOR

Thomas A. Bailey’s professional impact was considerable, and a great deal has been written by and about him. Commenting on one’s mentor is a humbling venture, and much of what I have to say is based on personal experience. His impact was, is, and will be multidimensional as a historian, Downloaded from https://academic.oup.com/dh/article/9/4/303/361863 by guest on 01 October 2021 teacher, and human being, all of which are interrelated. As one measure of Bailey’s impact, the author index of the impressive, if not always authoritative, Guide to American Foreign Relations Since 1700 reveals fifteen entries for Samuel Flagg Bemis, four for Fred Harvey Har- rington, and twenty for Elailey. Although his Woodrow Wilson and the Great Betrayal, which some consider his most substantive work, is missing, one entry calls Bailey “a Dean of American diplomatic history.”’ This accolade may be appropriate for many of his contemporaries, although Samuel Flagg Bemis once said he never wanted to be a dean of anything. My first encounter with Bailey occurred when I arrived at Stanford University for registration, with Western movement as my primary field. Since my designated adviser was on leave, Professor Bailey offered to take me on. So, for the first of numerous occasions, I climbed those three stories of precipitous stairs to his stratospheric hideaway. Bailey then, and subse- quently, arranged my weakly schedule to fit into the one afternoon and evening that I could be on campus, and it soon became apparent that my navy back- ground and universal interests were better suited for the pursuit of U.S. diplomatic history than that of the American frontier. I found Bailey somewhat formidable but easy to talk with, and we had numerous conversations about my program and aspirations, as well as dis- cussions of various authors and interpretations of historical events. For me, this one-on-one exchange was an invaluable learning opportunity. He was then writing The American Pageant, a first draft of which he asked me to read for “a mature student’s reaction.” Bailey was quite willing to listen to suggestions and to respond in a calm and reasoned manner. At one point I

‘Guide to Americcm Foreign Relations Since 1700, ed. Richard Dean Burns (Santa Bar- bara, CA, 1983), p. 61.

303 304 DIPLOMATIC HISTORY dared to ask why he was spending five years on a textbook instead of con- tinuing his scholarly work. He could reach more people this way, he replied, and have more influence. As for his writing style, Bailey had considerable difficulty finding a publisher for A Diplomatic History of the American People. Editors com- plained that his racy and entertaining format would not be acceptable in a textbook. My own experience in using both his texts in classes at various institutions, replete with what came to be known as “Baileyisms,” revealed that they were the only texts in which some of the students even read ahead Downloaded from https://academic.oup.com/dh/article/9/4/303/361863 by guest on 01 October 2021 of the assignments. A perennial story among graduate students, apprehen- sively contemplating their first offering in American diplomatic history, was to adopt Bemis as the text and lecture from Bailey. Bailey was accused of appealing to the lowest common denominator to arouse student interest, and the number of adoptions, impressive sales, and successive editions is eloquent testimony to whatever one concludes about the state of education in this country. Bailey’s reputation as a scholar has been dimmed by his later publi- cations, which do not reveal his previous meticulous attention to detail. In his earlier career, while researching away from Stanford, he made a carbon copy of all his notes, one to be mailed and the other to be carried with him to prevent loss. His careful utilization of time and foresight in record keeping are revealed during his postdoctoral appointment at the University of Hawaii, where he not only married the daughter of the president but also plumbed local files for material to produce a succession of articles. His postretirement The Marshall Plan Summer, based on notes taken thirty years earlier, dem- onstrates his thoroughness in preparing lectures for the National War College, his depth of perception during this crucial period of reconstruction in Europe, and his retention of material that some day might prove of value.‘ Perhaps one reason for the shortcomings in his later writings is his failure to submit manuscripts to other readers, for his acknowledgments in earlier works were numerous and generous. Editors continued to object to the profusion of Baileyisms, and the manuscript for Presidential Greatness ini- tially was rejected on this basis. Referred to a mutually agreed upon reader, it emerged mildly exorcised. When Bailey was writing Pugnacious Presidents, he asked if I would read the manuscript. Subsequently, he changed his mind. “Because the problem is to put together a number of generally known facts,” he wrote, “I am less disposed than usual to solicit outside help. So probably I shall not bother you.”’ Later the Hoover Institution Press, with Bailey’s consent, asked me to read the manuscript for The American Pageant Revisited: Recollections of a Stanford Historian. This almost brutally frank “confes- sional” is vintage Bailey, and his observations on the practical aspects of the

’Thomas A. Bailey, The Marshall Plan Summer: An Eyewirness Report on Europe and the Russians in 1947 (Stanford, CA, 1977). ’Bailey to O’Connor, 9 October 1979. DIPLOMATIC HISTORIANS AND THEIR IMPACT 305 profession should serve to inspire, or intimidate, the aspiring graduate student. At least the neophyte will have been forewarned. Bailey’s most lasting impact on the historical profession may be his role in popularizing the study of diplomatic history and in having it accepted as a respectable academic discipline. Some contend, however, that his empha- sis on the role of public opinion and his suggestions to investigate domestic factors were more important. “lf the ordinary American wants to know who shapes fundamental foreign policy,” he wrote, “all he has to do is look into Downloaded from https://academic.oup.com/dh/article/9/4/303/361863 by guest on 01 October 2021 a mirro~.”~At the same time, a colleague in Stanford’s Political Science Department, Gabriel Almond, stated categorically that “foreign policy still appears to be the area of policy least susceptible of being influenced by either the ordinary person or the opinion leaders.”5 Bailey often cited public opinion polls and newspapers to support his thesis, although he admitted the latter usually reflected press editorial opinion rather than that of the public. The extent to which public opinion “shapes fundamental foreign policy” has been, and continues to be, the subject of heated debate. Scholarly con- sensus, at least, seems to reject Bailey’s contention of a grass-roots control. Even with sophisticated techniques, determining public attitudes on any given topic at a specific time remains in the realm of speculation and interpolation. Further, its effect on decision makers is virtually impossible to discover, since few statesmen confess that they significantly changed their policies to conform with what they perceive to be the voice of the people. Obviously, in order to survive, politicians have to be aware of what the public wants or will tolerate. They defy the public will at their peril, and the degree of accom- modation can vary, but the causal connection remains elusive. Bailey was more circumspect in The Man in the Street: The lmpuct ej Anierican Public Opinion on Foreign Policy, in which he asserted: “If Mr. Average American wants to get a glimpse at the power behind the office- holder’s chair, all he has to do is put up a mirror and look into it.”” Bailey stressed the influence of ethnic groups, especially their pressure out of pro- portion to their size, and earned the wrath of certain minorities. Here, again, he was emphasizing a domestic factor that previously had been given little attention and that achieved notoriety during and after the Second World War. Bailey firmly believed that a study of history provided lessons to prevent mistakes in current affairs, and his two volumes on Woodrow Wilson were intended to warn against repeating the tactics that kept the United States from becoming a formal partner in preserving world peace. He delighted in being a “demythifier,” destroying or correcting “false historical beliefs,” as he put it. Nor was he averse to rectifying errors that he had perpetuated, as he admitted in his 1960 presidential address at the Pacific Coast Branch meeting

‘Thomas A. Bailey, A Diplomutic History of rhe Americun Peopk, 10th ed. (Englewood Cliffs, NJ, 1980). p. 3. ’Gabriel Almond, The Amcricun People und Amrricun Foreign Policy, rev. ed. (New York, 1960). p. xxiii. ‘Thomas A. Bailey, The Mun in the Street: The 1mpuc.t of Americun Public Opinion on Foreign Policy (New York, 1948), p. 2 (emphasis added). 306 DIPLOMATIC HISTORY of the American Historical Association. Bailey took forthright positions on contemporary issues, and during the McCarthy era he offended many former Stanford students by denouncing, before an alumni gathering, the senator’s activities. He replied vigorously to critics, as Time, American Heritage, and some reviewers can attest. In the SHAFR Newsletter both Warren Kimball and Robert Divine were exposed to his gentle, although pointed, barbs as he defended his text and took issue over Wilson. Nevertheless, Bailey, as Richard Leopold has noted, was “always a generous reviewer.’” Some of our disagreements endured throughout our relationship, one Downloaded from https://academic.oup.com/dh/article/9/4/303/361863 by guest on 01 October 2021 being over Franklin D. Roosevelt’s intentions in 1941. As stated in Hitler vs. Roosevelt, which he wrote with Paul Ryan, “one of the greatest paradoxes of this period is that neither Hitler nor Roosevelt really wanted an all-out land war with the other.”’ In my opinion, Roosevelt believed he could not achieve the necessary industrial and manpower mobilization without total war, that Britain and the Soviet Union could not defeat the Axis powers, and that he wanted an equal voice at the peace table which could be earned only by full participation in the conflict. We also disagreed over the weight assigned to party platforms and rhetoriic. The election of 1900 may not have been a “mandate for imperialism,” but voting behavior is one indication of the public will, and 1 thought the party platforms of 1896 could have implied a mandate for expansion. Yet our altercations, including that over the merits of Charles Beard as a historian, remained benign, and we both agreed that there were times when even our wives did not agree with us. Bailey was almost obsessed with the writing of history, and he was a foremost example of what could be done in the scholarly and textbook media. He strongly believed that history need not be dull, that it could be presented in simple, clear, understandable, and readable prose. With his monklike devotion and compulsion to publish, Bailey’s friends and colleagues saw him ensconced in his red stone tower, where he sported a green eyeshade as he crouched over his manual portable typewriter, glancing occasionally at notes aligned on his desk. In my later career he told me to relax because I had it made, but he never followed his own advice. His vocation was his avocation. Once, in a conversation with Ernest May and Bailey, who surprisingly joined us in a martini, I asked how many typewritten pages each of US could produce in one day when ready to write. After citing the output of some other historians, Ernest and I mentioned our own. Bailey then shattered our illusions by remarking that he averaged twenty-five to thirty pages per day. Most of us cannot even type that fast: much less express our convoluted thoughts with the literary elegance at our command. Bailey’s example, as may be expected, had both positive and negative repercussions on others.

’Richard W. Leopold, “Historians and American Foreign Policy: A New Guide in the Field,” Diplomuric History 8 (Summer 1984): 277. ‘Thomas A. Bailey and Paul B. Ryan, Hirlrr vs. Roosevelt: The Undrclured Navul War (New York. 1979). p. 259. DIPLOMATIC HISTOR.IANS AND THEIR IMPACT 307

For Bailey, scholarship and teaching were not incompatible but com- plementary. As a teacher of undergraduates, he enjoyed an outstanding rep- utation as a superb classroom performer; he was lively, stimulating, and, as it were, entertaining. Essentially, he lectured as he wrote. Using a typed outline and a file folder for each assignment, he scrawled marginal notes and, with attached thin strips of paper, added new material or ideas, which were constantly being revised. “I have often thought,” he said, “that if 1 implant at least one lasting idea per lecture, my batting average would be relatively high.” He constantly watched the students for their attention span and their Downloaded from https://academic.oup.com/dh/article/9/4/303/361863 by guest on 01 October 2021 reaction to his remarks, and made adjustments accordingly. “Good teachers are born, not made,” he contended, “but there are a few ways in which one can become better.”’ The enthusiasm for Bailey’s lecture courses reached its height during the post-World War I1 years when classes were moved to the Memorial Auditorium to accommoldate the crowds. In the later 1950s enrollment began to decline as “relevance” and other fads swept the campus. Bailey’s style was ridiculed by what were referred to as “sophomore cynics.” To some his delivery seemed more appropriate for the pulpit than the lectern and his oratory for the stump. His humor, presented in anecdotes and puns, and his mimicking of Japanese diplomats speaking English struck many listeners as undignified, patronizing, and racist. “The joy of teaching students orally was diminishing,” he acknowledged ruefully, “largely because I sensed that we were not oper- ating or ‘relating’ on th’e same wave length.”’” Bailey was authoritarian in the classroom, and Alex DeConde has noted his habit of halting a lecture until a late arrival had been seated. On one occasion, when Stanford still had a dress code, he admonished a young lady in the front row for repeatedly crossing and recrossing her legs. He explained to me that it was the movement, not the view, that disturbed him. As for being a “sexist,” he believed that “conventional history is largely a man’s subject, for it deals with the principal actors on the world stage, and they are, or have been, overwhelmingly men.”” Yet attendance in his cliisses remained relatively high, a tribute to his repu- tation and ability. With graduate students Bailey was formal but friendly, quite demanding, and intolerant of sloppiness. He forced students to support opinions with evidence, emphasizing technique and methodology, and he urged everyone to write, write, write. Oral reports were frequent, with probing questions and a lack of pontification by the professor. He was thorough in arranging pro- grams, giving pointers in preparing for written and oral examinations, and helpful in discussing a proposed dissertation, which he monitored carefully chapter by chapter. His (own questions stressed analysis and interpretation in order to find out what the student knew and could do with the material. He

‘Interview with Bailey. Stunford Observer, October 19x2. “’Thomas A. Bailey, The Americun Pageant Revisited: Recollections oj‘u Stanford His- toriun (Stanford, CA, 1982), 13. 204. “Ibid., p. 107. 308 DIPLOMATIC HISTORY defended candidates from what he considered “badgering” by other ques- tioners, and from a university dissertation committee that wanted what he believed were unwarranted changes in a work approved by him and a second reader. Bailey was unstinting in advising and assisting the grant seeker and job hunter, whom he prepared for an interview with regard to courses, textbooks, and teaching methodology. He warned that a candidate would be evaluated not only as a historian and teacher but also as a person and a prospective department colleague and would be questioned on attitudes toward students Downloaded from https://academic.oup.com/dh/article/9/4/303/361863 by guest on 01 October 2021 and the institution. He was prompt in submitting detailed, substantive letters of recommendation and was always willing to read and comment on manu- scripts. Bailey disliked administration and only reluctantly accepted the exec- utive chairmanship of the department when Stanford’s president threatened to bring in someone Bailey found unacceptable. During his tenure he refused annual salary raises and contributed portions of his royalties to book purchases for the Stanford Library and to other historical causes, such as SHAFR, which, as its first president, he helped launch. His commitment to the profession and to Stanford was unqualified. He possessed that singleness of purpose that often separates the adults from the children in most activities. In his personal life, Bailey, although a congenial conversationalist, often appeared shy and ill at ease in groups, did not encourage familiarity, and rarely addressed students by their first names. He was not a socializer but could be a gracious host. Almost abstemious in his habits, he never used his sizable income to improve his life-style. He seemed to follow Dwight Eisen- hower’s admonition to take one’s work seriously but never oneself, and his laughter was not confined to the actions of others. As for omniscience, he seldom equivocated on opinions, observing that there were degrees of igno- rance. He could tell of spending a day writing on current events and throwing away the results after hearing the next morning’s news, confessing that a few days before the attack on Pearl Harbor he had declared that the Japanese were bluffing.’* He lived by a strict moral code but refrained from inflicting it on associates. Devoted to his family, he accompanied his wife Sylvia to swim- ming meets as she accumulated medals in seniors competition. The precision of his walks to and from home and the office prompted the legend that Stanford clocks were set by his appearance, and I never saw him outside his office without a coat and tie or outside a building without a hat. Tom Bailey set standards in teaching, scholarship, and writing which are equaled by few. He revealed by concept and precept that historical study is exciting, that lecture and writing could be interesting, that the marketplace of ideas is the road to truth, and that ours is the noblest of professions. Further, he mined fresh fields of investigation into the labyrinth of foreign

‘*lbid., p. 150. DIPLOMATIC HISTORIANS AND THEIR IMPACT 309 policy and cautioned never to overestimate the audience. His impact was, and will be, felt by those who listened to his lectures, those who have read and will read his publications, those colleagues and friends who shared his company, and by those students whose professional lives he guided. Tom Bailey was one among the greats, and there were greats in those days. Downloaded from https://academic.oup.com/dh/article/9/4/303/361863 by guest on 01 October 2021