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On a long dusty highway a high-seated touring car is pounding along. It comes to an unseen line that has all of the resistance of a Holland Dyke. This line is the state boundary between New Jersey and New York.

With a grinding of brakes, the car comes to a stop. From places unsuspected, men appear carrying the badges of health officers.

"Where are you going?" they want to know.

"We are going to see Grandmother," the children in the car reply.

"Sorry," say these Health Officers to the lady riding in the front seat, "You cannot pass. No children are permitted to enter New Jersey!"

The lady's reply is indignant, "Why not? We have always come this way."

The answer is sudden, swift and dramatic. "Infantile paralysis, lady. No children allowed."

These granite walls, built swiftly but solidly between the states of the Eastern Seaboard, were as trenches in the great World War -- lines of defense, created in desperation and in terror by the citizens of communities as well as states, barring one from another, putting a complete halt on the visiting and the mingling of families in neighboring states, neighboring counties, and neighboring cities, to stop the steady, grim, but determined march of a new serpent twining his way, day by day, with a stealthy devastation that threw terror and horror before him.

II

"My husband, who had been complaining of feeling logy and tired for several days, decided it would do him good to go in for a dip in a land-locked lake called Lake Glen Severn. The children were delighted, and they started away. After their swim Franklin took a dip in the Bay of Fundy and ran home.

"When they came in, a good deal of mail had arrived and my husband sat around in his bathing suit, which was not completely dry, and looked at his mail. In a little while he began to complain that he felt chill and decided he would not eat supper with us, but would go to bed and get thoroughly warm. He wanted to avoid catching cold.

"In retrospect I realize he had had no rest since the war. Undoubtedly the hunting trip after the campaign had been extremely strenuous and no real rest. Plunging back into business had not given him any opportunity to relax and he had probably been going on his nerves.

"The next day my husband felt less well. He had quite a temperature and I sent for our faithful friend, Doctor Bennett. Doctor Bennett thought my husband had just an ordinary cold, and I decided that the best thing to do was to get everybody else off on this camping trip.

"The camping trip lasted three days, and by the time they were back it was very evident that my husband's legs were getting badly paralyzed.

"For a little while he showed no improvement. The days dragged on and the doctors kept saying he must have a nurse, but it was hard to get one, so I kept on taking care of him. His temperature at times was very high. It required a certain amount of skilled nursing, and I was thankful for every bit of training which Miss Spring had given me.

"Finally my husband's uncle, Mr. Frederic Delano, begged us to have the well-known infantile paralysis doctor. Doctor Lovett, come up from Newport. He examined my husband very carefully, and after consultation he told me it was infantile paralysis." -- From This Is My Story by Eleanor Roosevelt, published by Harper & Bros.

This simple story that might have had a tragic ending marks the unconscious selection of our present leader in the fight against poliomyelitis. The tale of his courageous victory over the disease, an inspiration to us all, is known to everyone. The work under his leadership that sprang from this sad beginning will never end until the dread plague is conquered.

III

Years ago the Georgia Warm Springs Foundation was a combination of antiquated buildings and a dream -- the dream of President Franklin Delano Roosevelt. But with his indomitable courage and vision, this dream was not long in assuming reality. He surrounded himself with people who, financially or through the contribution of their energies, could help bring about an institution which would be the greatest single force in organizing and coordinating a national fight against infantile paralysis.

The years that followed have been full of plans, enthusiasm, and accomplishments. There was the construction of pools; the building of the Infirmary; the growth of the cottages around the campus and up the mountain side.

Along with the steady building at Warm Springs those associated with its growth have witnessed a tremendous development of medical work on infantile paralysis throughout the country and a rapid increase in the influence it has exerted.

In the early part of 1933, when the Board of Trustees voted that the work of the Foundation should be intensified, definite steps were taken to acquaint the public with the objectives which the Foundation had created, and the necessity of securing money with which to attain those objectives.

In 1934 the Birthday Ball for the President was decided upon as a happy solution of the problem of raising money.