Feb. 15,
1901— Brendan Bracken—a mysterious figure who, despite
being three decades younger than Winston Churchill, became his closest friend and
Minister for Information in his wartime Cabinet—was born in Templemore, County Tipperary,
Ireland.
A lanky,
bespectacled redhead with charm and energy to spare, Bracken was hard to miss
in any assembly. But, if people had no trouble picking him out, they had plenty
in figuring him out.
Who was he? Where did he come from? How had he become so
indispensable to Churchill? Why was there a break in their relationship for
five years before Bracken re-committed himself to his mentor in the latter’s
darkest political hours?
For a long
time during his rise in business and politics, even the last part of that first
sentence above—about Bracken’s date and place of birth—would have been murky.
The truth was that Bracken’s father, a well-to-do builder and member
of the Fenian brotherhood that sought Irish independence, died when Brendan was
three and that his stepfather years later was likewise of republican sympathy.
But by his
teens, Bracken was acting so wildly that his mother packed him off to a Jesuit
boarding school in Dublin and, when that effort to curb him failed, even
further, to a similar institution in Australia.
At age 18,
with Ireland plunged into its war of independence from Britain, Bracken was
back in Dublin. He embraced his mother’s Unionist sympathies but not her
Catholic faith. In the next several years, he not only rejected his Irish
identity but bewildered former and newfound acquaintances by denying he had
one, passing himself off as Australian.
At various times, he also changed his age when the circumstances were
advantageous and claimed that a brother had died when actually, like all family members except his mother, Bracken was estranged from him.
In 1923,
the most important event in his life occurred when he met Winston Churchill.
That December he organized Churchill’s unsuccessful General Election race as a Liberal
in Leicester West, then another, four months later, as an independent. Finally
by the end of 2024, Churchill won a safe seat in a return to
the Conservative Party he had abandoned 20 years before.
An
astonishing rumor, fed as much by the pair’s close relationship as by the red
hair they shared, was that Bracken was his chief’s illegitimate child. The aide
not only didn’t deny it but, some suspect, may have even spread the gossip.
Churchill’s wife Clementine, already fuming that her husband's newfound friend was
sleeping in the house with his feet up on the sofa, demanded answers, only to
be blithely assured by the great man, “I looked it up, but the dates don’t
coincide.”
Though the rumor was untrue, it's hard not to think of the two men as surrogate family members. Bracken was more responsible, even-tempered and helpful than Churchill's choleric and alcoholic son Randolph. And in Churchill, Bracken found something of a father figure, an affectionate presence who fully shared his Unionist, even imperial, sympathies.
With Churchill’s
return to the House of Commons, their paths diverged for a time, with Bracken
displaying a talent for finance and business management. He became a publishing
mogul, becoming chairman of the Financial News in 1928 and, 17 years
later, merging it into The Financial Times, making that paper
with its distinct paper color the institution it remains.
This business
acumen and journalistic influence became indispensable to Churchill by
the end of the decade, when this lifelong politician struggled through the
decade known as his “Wilderness Years,” the period when, his relentless
ambitions stymied, he was without a Cabinet post, a mere back-bencher.
In 1929,
having won election as a Conservative in the North Paddington seat, Bracken
allied himself again with Churchill, becoming for the next 10 years a foul-weather
friend who stood by him in his lowest political and financial moments.
It was bad
enough that Churchill found himself out of step with Conservative leadership on
Indian policy, King Edward VIII’s abdication crisis, and appeasement towards
Nazi Germany. But his spendthrift habits put him continually in financial
danger.
In 1938, press
baron Max Beaverbook, disapproving of Churchill’s increasingly dire warnings
about Adolf Hitler’s rearmament campaign, terminated his contract for writing
an Evening Standard column.
Without this desperately needed source of
funds, a despondent Churchill made plans to sell Chartwell, the home into which
he had poured so much of his money.
It was
Bracken who came to his rescue by having his associate Sir Henry Strakosch buy
Churchill’s American stocks at their original purchase price and pay him
interest to boot.
Strakosch performed similar financial magic in 1940, as Churchill
moved to the forefront of the movement to fight the Nazi war machine no matter
the cost.
Had these
arrangements been revealed at the time, they might have opened Churchill up to attempts
to discredit his wartime efforts—as indeed has happened now from the American far
right, with Darryl Cooper labeling Churchill “the “chief villain of the Second
World War” in an interview conducted by Tucker Carlson.
Bracken
was as instrumental in ensuring that Churchill finally became Prime Minister as
he had been in keeping him from declaring bankruptcy.
With Neville Chamberlain’s
leadership fatally undermined by a closer-than-expected no-confidence vote in the
House of Commons, Churchill told Bracken he was willing to serve under Chamberlain’s
desired successor, Foreign Secretary Lord Halifax.
Bracken got his friend to remain silent in the high-level meetings if Halifax were proposed to
lead the new government. In the end, Halifax, saying it would be difficult to
lead the war effort as a House of Lords member, left the field effectively open
to Churchill.
In 1941, Churchill named Bracken his Minister of Information—in effect,
in charge of wartime propaganda. Two authors distinctly unimpressed by what
they learned about Bracken at close range in the war obliquely targeted him in
their novels.
Evelyn
Waugh told future biographer Christopher Sykes that Brideshead Revisited’s
Rex Mottram was his only character fully drawn from life. Though he tried to disguise
the source by making Mottram a Canadian, other details—notably, the character’s
colonial origins, opportunism, overwhelming business success, and lack of
devotion or even interest in Catholicism—pointed towards Bracken.
And George
Orwell was so incensed by the restrictions under which he labored in Bracken’s
Ministry of Information, it was said, that he was inspired to create Big
Brother in 1984, with the character’s kinship with the politico hinted
at in their initials: B.B.
Churchill’s
landslide defeat in the 1945 General Election—in a campaign not helped by
Bracken’s advocacy of an overly negative, partisan tone—left the two men out of
power.
When Churchill returned to Downing Street six years later, Bracken
announced that ill health precluded his continuation in politics. But he
was not done serving his mentor and hero.
In June
1953, Bracken joined the Prime Minister’s inner circle in covering up the news
of Churchill’s massive stroke, claiming only that the leader required “complete
rest” for a while, ensuring that there would be no accurate UK coverage of the problem.
It wasn’t until a year passed that Churchill, having made a
great recovery in the meantime, gave even a hint of his health crisis.
By this
time, the health of Bracken himself, a lifelong chain smoker, was in more
serious danger. Upon hearing the news of the death of his stalwart friend in
1958 from lung cancer, Churchill lamented the loss of “poor, dear Brendan.”
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