You Have Nothing To Fear Except Fear Itself…And Tarantulas Fear. It's not just a cheesy-but-aweso ...
You Have Nothing To Fear Except Fear Itself…And Tarantulas Fear. It's not just a cheesy-but-awesome 1996 movie where Reese Witherspoon and Mark Wahlberg get it on on top of a roller coaster. It's also, according to everyone's favorite cigarette holder-user—FDR—the only thing we really have to be afraid of. Especially during a nationwide financial meltdown. We completely understand the reason people were freaked out during the Great Depression. Imagine waking up in the morning to find that all of your money has disappeared. Your bank accounts are suddenly empty. Everyone you know is getting fired. Your family has gone from happy and free from want to poor, desperate, and hungry. And most families in the country are in the same boat. Yeah; that's pretty much the definition of fear…and here we were thinking that the definition of fear was the sensation of binge-watching Stranger Things at three in the morning. Enter the President of the United States, Franklin Delano Roosevelt. Everyone is looking at him for answers, for an explanation, and for help. What in the world could he say that would calm the frantic, scared families? What could he possibly do to reassure people that everything will be okay? And could he know that everything actually would be okay? Not only was the economy in a depression, but the American people were depressed—sad, desperate, unsure of where their next meal would come from. Americans needed help, but before that, they needed reassurance. They needed a calm, confident voice of leadership. They needed someone to tell them that they are not going through this fear alone, and that by working together and trusting in each other, this depression would end. President Roosevelt worked with his speechwriters to create a series of reassuring, confidence-building speeches to give to Americans, which became known as the "Fireside Chats." Because nothing sounds more reassuring than the idea of snuggling up next to a crackling fire and sipping some cocoa in your bunny slippers and…having a chat with the leader of the free world. Come On Baby, Light My Fireside Chat His first chat was given in March of 1933, almost four years after the Stock Market Crash of 1929, which, although not the direct cause of the Great Depression, is considered the starting point. Formally titled "On the Bank Crisis" (yeah; "First Fireside Chat" is a way better name) FDR spoke to Americans in an informal, conversational tone. He described what was happening in the country, what he and the government were doing to fix it, and what people could expect to see. The result was immediate. Americans experienced a surge in confidence, and the talks became an endearing and powerful part of Roosevelt's legacy. Because almost nine out of every ten American homes owned a radio, the "First Fireside Chat" was heard by millions of families seeking hope and confidence. FDR calmly and plainly told the people about the country's banking system, about how it can recover, and what everyone needs to do. He even sneaks a quick economics lesson in…and somehow manages not to bore the pants off of the American listening public. By using comforting language such as calling Americans his "friends" and assuring them that "we're all in this together," people saw him as more than just a president, but as a human being. Pretty important when you're relying on someone to get you out of poverty and hardship. Roosevelt's "First Fireside Chat" launched a series of Sunday night radio speeches, with thirty total from March 1933 to June 1944. While the chats didn't directly bring Americans out of the Great Depression, they were integral to making sure the public was informed, confident, and not likely to do anything rash (like make a run on a bank). FDR is remembered as a well-liked, personable, effective president in United States history, and his Fireside Chats definitely helped him gain that reputation. We can't imagine hearing anything more soothing than FDR if we were stuck in a financial crisis…unless it was some magical combination of Bob Ross and Maya Angelou's voices and a cat purring.
