treated inadequately. The patient loses the will to live, stops eating and dies.
This drawn-out tragedy had a traumatic effect on life atSeward Square. Edgarâs elder brother and sister were long gone, in their thirties and married with children. Only Annie and young Edgar remained at home, and they reportedly had little patience with Dickerson, Sr.
âMy mother,â said Edgarâs niece Dorothy, âused to say Uncle Edgar wasnât very nice to his father when he was ill. He was ashamed of him. He couldnât tolerate the fact that Granddaddy had mental illness. He never could tolerate anything that was imperfect.â
Dorothy, a retired teacher with wide experience of lifeâs trials, said she thought perhaps âthe whole Hoover clan were a little off in the head.â Her memories suggest the Hoover familyâs emotional life was seriously fractured. Dickerson, Jr., was distant, and his sister Lillian was âcold, very cold.â The young Edgar, who used to come to Dorothyâs home to play croquet, at first seemed âquite fun to be around.â Then he changed, becoming a remote figure âinclined to push us all away.â
âI sometimes have thought,â said Edgarâs niece Margaret, âthat he really â I donât know how to put it â had a fear of becoming too personally involved with people.â
Half a century later, FBI Assistant Director William Sullivan would voice the same opinion. Edgar, he thought, âdidnât have affection for one single solitary human being around him â¦â
âI didnât have any honor or love for him as an uncle,â said Dorothy Davy. âWhatever he did for the country, he was no use as a relative.â Other family members confirmed â often nervously, as though Edgar were still alive to rebuke them â that he bothered little with family ties. When his widowed sister was struck down by Parkinsonâs disease, Edgar did little to help. When she died, his appearance at the funeral was so brief as to be insulting.
The only constant family connection for Edgar, far into the prime of his life, would be his mother, Annie. Once they were free of Edgarâs father, the burden they had both resented, theybecame inseparable. Edgar lived at home with his mother until he was a middle-aged man. Only when she died, in 1938, would he leave the house on Seward Square. And when he did find a home of his own, he would live there alone.
3
âIf you work for a man, in heavenâs name work for him! If he pays you wages that supply you your bread and butter, work for him â speak well of him, think well of him, stand by him and stand by the institution he represents.â
Elbert Hubbard quotation, displayed on Edgarâs orders in FBI field offices
A s Edgar grew to manhood, he closed the dossier on himself that he had kept since childhood. There are no more diaries, and few intimate letters, to help chart his six decades of adult life. In accordance with his wishes, his secretary destroyed his private correspondence â and almost certainly much else besides â after his death.
Enough evidence survives, however, to expose the hidden Edgar. The man who projected himself to the public as a stern moral figure, full of integrity, was a walking myth. It was so carefully crafted that he perhaps came to believe much of it himself, but it was a myth nonetheless.
What Edgar said of his past, especially of events long ago, must always be treated with caution. âHe was a master con man,â his aide William Sullivan was to say, âone of the greatest con men the country has ever produced, and that takes intelligence of a certain kind, an astuteness, a shrewdness.â
In 1913, the year he turned eighteen, Edgar graduated from high school, and decided to study law.
âI donât really know why I chose law,â Edgar would say for public consumption. âYou come