Companion To First Ladies 9781118732229, 1118732227

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A Companion to First Ladies

WILEY BLACKWELL COMPANIONS TO AMERICAN HISTORY This series provides essential and authoritative overviews of the scholarship that has shaped our present understanding of the American past. Edited by eminent historians, each volume tackles one of the major periods or themes of American history, with individual topics authored by key scholars who have spent considerable time in research on the questions and controversies that have sparked debate in their field of interest. The volumes are accessible for the non‐specialist, while also engaging scholars seeking a reference to the historiography or future concerns. A Companion to the American Revolution Edited by Jack P. Greene and J. R. Pole

A Companion to American Technology Edited by Carroll Pursell

A Companion to 19th‐Century America Edited by William L. Barney

A Companion to African‐American History Edited by Alton Hornsby

A Companion to the American South Edited by John B. Boles

A Companion to American Immigration Edited by Reed Ueda

A Companion to American Women’s History Edited by Nancy Hewitt

A Companion to American Cultural History Edited by Karen Halttunen

A Companion to American Indian History Edited by Philip J. Deloria and Neal Salisbury

A Companion to California History Edited by William Deverell and David Igler

A Companion to Post‐1945 America Edited by Jean‐Christophe Agnew and Roy Rosenzweig

A Companion to American Military History Edited by James Bradford

A Companion to the Vietnam War Edited by Marilyn Young and Robert Buzzanco

A Companion to Los Angeles Edited by William Deverell and Greg Hise

A Companion to Colonial America Edited by Daniel Vickers

A Companion to American Environmental History Edited by Douglas Cazaux Sackman

A Companion to American Foreign Relations Edited by Robert Schulzinger

A Companion to Benjamin Franklin Edited by David Waldstreicher

A Companion to 20th‐Century America Edited by Stephen J. Whitfield

A Companion to World War Two (2 volumes) Edited by Thomas W. Zeiler with Daniel M. DuBois

A Companion to the American West Edited by William Deverell

A Companion to American Legal History Edited by Sally E. Hadden and Alfred L. Brophy

A Companion to the Civil War and Reconstruction Edited by Lacy K. Ford

PRESIDENTIAL COMPANIONS A Companion to Franklin D. Roosevelt Edited by William Pederson

A Companion to Woodrow Wilson Edited by Ross A. Kennedy

A Companion to Richard M. Nixon Edited by Melvin Small

A Companion to Dwight D. Eisenhower Edited by Chester J. Pach

A Companion to Theodore Roosevelt Edited by Serge Ricard

A Companion to John Adams and John Quincy Adams Edited by David Waldstreicher

A Companion to Thomas Jefferson Edited by Francis D. Cogliano

A Companion to Gerald R. Ford & Jimmy Carter Edited by V. Scott Kaufman

A Companion to Lyndon B. Johnson Edited by Mitchell Lerner

A Companion to Warren G. Harding, Calvin Coolidge, and Herbert Hoover Edited by Katherine A. S. Sibley

A Companion to George Washington Edited by Edward G. Lengel A Companion to Andrew Jackson Edited by Sean Patrick Adams

A Companion to First Ladies Edited by Katherine A. S. Sibley

A Companion to First Ladies Edited by

Katherine A. S. Sibley

This edition first published 2016 © 2016 John Wiley & Sons, Inc Registered Office John Wiley & Sons, Ltd, The Atrium, Southern Gate, Chichester, West Sussex, PO19 8SQ, UK Editorial Offices 350 Main Street, Malden, MA 02148‐5020, USA 9600 Garsington Road, Oxford, OX4 2DQ, UK The Atrium, Southern Gate, Chichester, West Sussex, PO19 8SQ, UK For details of our global editorial offices, for customer services, and for information about how to apply for permission to reuse the copyright material in this book please see our website at www.wiley.com/wiley‐blackwell. The right of Katherine A. S. Sibley to be identified as the author of the editorial material in this work has been asserted in accordance with the UK Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, except as permitted by the UK Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988, without the prior permission of the publisher. Wiley also publishes its books in a variety of electronic formats. Some content that appears in print may not be available in electronic books. Designations used by companies to distinguish their products are often claimed as trademarks. All brand names and product names used in this book are trade names, service marks, trademarks or registered trademarks of their respective owners. The publisher is not associated with any product or vendor mentioned in this book. Limit of Liability/Disclaimer of Warranty: While the publisher and authors have used their best efforts in preparing this book, they make no representations or warranties with respect to the accuracy or completeness of the contents of this book and specifically disclaim any implied warranties of merchantability or fitness for a particular purpose. It is sold on the understanding that the publisher is not engaged in rendering professional services and neither the publisher nor the author shall be liable for damages arising herefrom. If professional advice or other expert assistance is required, the services of a competent professional should be sought. Library of Congress Cataloging‐in‐Publication Data Names: Sibley, Katherine A. S. (Katherine Amelia Siobhan), 1961– editor. Title: A companion to first ladies / edited by Katherine A. S. Sibley. Description: Chichester, UK ; Malden, MA : John Wiley & Sons, 2016. | Includes bibliographical   references and index. Identifiers: LCCN 2015045050 | ISBN 9781118732229 (cloth) Subjects: LCSH: Presidents’ spouses–United States–Biography. Classification: LCC E176.2 .C65 2016 | DDC 973.09/9–dc23 LC record available at http://lccn.loc.gov/2015045050 A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library. Cover image: © B Christopher / Alamy Stock Photo Set in 10/12pt Galliard by SPi Global, Pondicherry, India

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Contents

Notes on Contributors viii Acknowledgementsxiv Introduction1 Katherine A. S. Sibley 1  Martha Washington Robert P. Watson

6

2  Abigail Adams: The Life and the Biographers Margaret A. Hogan

20

3  Martha Jefferson Randolph, First Daughter Billy L. Wayson

38

4  James and Dolley Madison and the Quest for Unity Catherine Allgor

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5  Elizabeth Monroe Finn Pollard

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6  A Monarch in a Republic: Louisa Catherine Johnson Adams and Court Culture in Early Washington City Catherine Allgor, Margery M. Heffron and Amanda Mathews Norton

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7  Rachel Donelson Robards Jackson: A Reluctant First Lady Christina Mune

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8  Angelica Singleton Van Buren, First Lady for a Widower John F. Marszalek

129

9  The Ladies of Tippecanoe, and Tyler Too Christopher J. Leahy and Sharon Williams Leahy

142

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10  Sarah Polk: Ideas of Her Own Valerie Palmer‐Mehta 11  M  argaret Taylor, Abigail Fillmore, and Jane Pierce: Three Antebellum Presidents’ Ladies Elizabeth Lorelei Thacker‐Estrada

159

176

12  Harriet Rebecca Lane Johnston Thomas J. Balcerski

197

13  Mary Todd Lincoln William D. Pederson

214

14  Eliza McCardle Johnson and Julia Dent Grant Pamela K. Sanfilippo

230

15  Lucy Webb Hayes, Lucretia Rudolph Garfield, and Mary Arthur McElroy Benjamin T. Arrington

247

16  Rose Cleveland, Frances Cleveland, Caroline Harrison, Mary McKee Merry Ellen Scofield

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17  Ida McKinley: A Life of Contrasts Louie P. Gallo

283

18  Edith Kermit Carow Roosevelt: The Victorian Modern First Lady Catherine Forslund

298

19  Helen Herron Taft: The Forgotten Impact of a Memorable First Lady Rafaele Fierro

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20  Ellen Axson Wilson Lisa M. Burns

339

21  Edith Wilson: The First Lady in Charge Barbara Klaczynska

357

22  Florence Kling Harding: Celebrity and Activist Katherine A. S. Sibley

379

23  Grace Coolidge Teri Finneman

404

24  The Historiography of Lou Henry Hoover Nancy Beck Young

423

25  Anna Eleanor Roosevelt: Her Life before and during the White House Years Maurine H. Beasley

439

26  Eleanor Roosevelt: First Lady of the World Maurine H. Beasley

459

27  Elizabeth Virginia “Bess” Wallace Truman Michael J. Devine

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28  O  verrated Pleasures and Underrated Treasures: Mamie Eisenhower, a Bridge between First Lady Archetypes Anthony Rama Maravillas

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492

29  Jacqueline Kennedy Katherine Jellison

503

30  Lady Bird Johnson Lisa M. Burns

517

31  An Unlikely First Lady: Pat Nixon Mary C. Brennan

535

32  Betty Ford: “When Ordinary Becomes Extraordinary” Myra G. Gutin

552

33  Eleanor Rosalynn Smith Carter Kristin L. Ahlberg

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34  Nancy Reagan Jason Roberts

585

35  Barbara Pierce Bush: Choosing a Complete Life, I: 1925–1988 Diana B. Carlin

604

36  Barbara Pierce Bush: Choosing a Complete Life, II: 1988–2015 Diana B. Carlin

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37  Hillary Rodham Clinton Janette Kenner Muir

635

38  Laura Welch Bush: Strength and Serenity in Turbulent Times Anita McBride

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39  First Lady Michelle Obama: The American Dream Endures, I Nancy Kegan Smith and Diana B. Carlin

677

40  First Lady Michelle Obama: The American Dream Endures, II Diana B. Carlin and Nancy Kegan Smith

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Index716

Notes on Contributors

Kristin L. Ahlberg is assistant to the ­general editor in the Office of the Historian, US Department of State. She is the author of Transplanting the Great Society: Lyndon Johnson and Food for Peace (2008); co‐­ compiler of Foreign Relations of the United States, 1969–1976, volume 38: Foundations of Foreign Policy, 1973–1976 (2012); and compiler of Foreign Relations of the United States, 1977–1980, volume 2: Human Rights and Humanitarian Affairs (2013) and of Foreign Relations of the United States, 1977– 1980, volume 1: Foundations of Foreign ­Policy (2014). Her articles have appeared in Diplomatic History, The Public Historian, the American Historical Association’s Perspectives on History, and the Organization of American Historians’ Newsletter. Catherine Allgor is the Nadine and Robert Skotheim Director of Education at the Huntington Library in San Marino, California, and former professor of history and presidential chair at the University of California, Riverside. Her first book, Parlor Politics: In Which the Ladies of Washington Help Build a City and a Government (2000), won the James H. Broussard First Book Prize from the Society for ­Historians of the Early American Republic and the Northeast Popular Culture/American Culture Association Annual Book Award. She

has also published Dolley Madison: The Problem of National Unity (2012); The Queen of America: Mary Cutts’s Life of Dolley Madison (2012); and A Perfect Union: Dolley Madison and the Creation of the American Nation (2006). Benjamin T. Arrington is a career historian and park ranger at the National Park S ­ ervice. He holds a PhD in history from the University of Nebraska, Lincoln and has published on numerous subjects related to the Civil War, westward expansion, and presidential history. He contributes to several history blogs and has spoken at academic conferences hosted by the Organization of American Historians, the George Wright Society, the Nebraska and Illinois State Historical Societies, the National Park Service, and others. In discussing American history and National Park Service news and events, he has appeared on PBS, C‐Span, National Public Radio, Radio Free Europe, and many other media outlets. Arrington is a US army veteran and has taught as an adjunct professor at John Carroll University and at Lake Erie College. Thomas J. Balcerski is assistant professor of history at Eastern Connecticut State ­University. He is working on a book project



notes on contributors

titled The Siamese Twins: The Intimate World of James Buchanan and William Rufus King. Maurine H. Beasley is professor emerita at the Philip Merrill College of Journalism, University of Maryland College Park, where her specialty has been the history of Washington women journalists—including Eleanor Roosevelt, who considered herself a journalist—and the media treatment of other first ladies. Her most recent book, Women of the Washington Press: Politics, Prejudice and Persistence (2012) won the Kappa Tau Alpha prize for the best researched book on journalism/mass communication published that year. A former staff writer for the Washington Post, she holds degrees in journalism from the University of Missouri and Columbia University and a doctorate in American civilization from George Washington University. Mary C. Brennan (PhD from Miami University, 1988), professor and chair of the History Department at Texas State University, researches conservatism. Following Turning Right in the Sixties (1995), she focused on women within conservatism in her subsequent books Wives, Mothers, and the Red Menace (2008) and Pat Nixon: Embattled First Lady (2011). Lisa M. Burns is professor of communications and chair of media studies at Quinnipiac University in Hamden, Connecticut. Her research, including the 2008 book First Ladies and the Fourth Estate, focuses on media coverage of first ladies and political women. She also does work on public memory in presidential museums. She authored the chapter on Lady Bird Johnson that appeared in Wiley Blackwell’s A Companion to Lyndon B. Johnson (2012). Diana B. Carlin retired as professor of communication and associate provost at Saint Louis University in 2015. Her research

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centers on political campaign communication and women in politics. She has written on Lady Bird J­ ohnson and Hillary Clinton and has taught a course on the rhetoric of first ladies. Michael J. Devine is emeritus director of the Harry S. Truman Library in Independence, Missouri. He earned his PhD from Ohio State University and has held senior administrative positions at historical institutions in Ohio, Maryland, Illinois, and Wyoming. He has twice served as a senior Fulbright Lecturer in Argentina (1984) and Korea (1995). Rafaele Fierro received his doctorate in ­history from the University of Connecticut in 2000 and is currently professor of history and government at Tunxis Community ­College in Farmington, Connecticut. He is also instructor of history at the University of Hartford in Connecticut. He has written numerous articles, particularly for online publications and historical societies, and has edited Mary Elizabeth Brown’s report for the Greenwich Village Society for Historic Preservation entitled The Italians of South Village. Teri Finneman completed her PhD at the University of Missouri in 2015 and is now assistant professor at South Dakota State University. She studies media coverage of US first ladies and women politicians and also researches historical and contemporary women journalists. She is a former political reporter and multimedia correspondent from North Dakota. Catherine Forslund is professor of history, department chair, and dean of the College of Arts and Humanities at Rockford University, where she teaches US, Latin American, and Chinese history. Her publications include works in diplomatic and women’s history such as Anna Chennault: Informal Diplomacy and Asian Relations (2002), We Are a College at War: Women Working for Victory in World War II (2010), and “Worth

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notes on contributors

a Thousand Words…: Editorial Cartoons of  the Korean War,” in Journal of Conflict Studies (2002). She is a Distinguished ­Lecturer for the Organization of American Historians. Louie P. Gallo is publications editor for the Ulysses S. Grant Presidential Library at Mississippi State University Libraries. He ­ earned a BA in history from West Liberty University and an MA in American studies with a focus on public and applied history from Youngstown State University. He has made contributions to various documentary editing projects, including the Sutliff Family Papers and the Frederick Douglass Papers. Prior to his work with the Grant Presidential Library, he worked at the National McKinley Birthplace Memorial and the McKinley Museum. Myra G. Gutin is professor in the Department of Communication and Journalism at Rider University, Lawrenceville, New Jersey. A frequent media commentator, she is the author of The President’s Partner: The First Lady in the Twentieth Century (1989) and Barbara Bush: Presidential Matriarch (2008). She has written scholarly articles, book chapters, and opinion pieces on American first ladies, women in politics, and political communication. Currently she is working on a biography of Betty Ford. Margery M. Heffron was formerly associate vice president for university relations at the State University of New York at Binghamton. She ended her career as an independent scholar in Exeter, New Hampshire, at work on a biography of Louisa Catherine Adams, for which she received the Marc Friedlander Fellowship for 2008–2009 from the Massachusetts Historical Society. Margery died in December 2011. Margaret A. Hogan is editorial consultant and an independent scholar. She is the former managing editor of the Adams ­ Papers project at the Massachusetts Histori-

cal Society and served as the series editor for the Adams Family Correspondence, volumes 7–11 (2005–2013). She is co‐editor, with C. James Taylor, of My Dearest Friend: ­Letters of Abigail and John Adams (2007) and A Traveled First Lady: Writings of Louisa Catherine Adams (2014). Katherine Jellison is professor of history at Ohio University. Her book It’s Our Day: America’s Love Affair with the White Wedding, 1945–2005 (2008) includes an analysis of first family weddings. Barbara Klaczynska is a historian who ­specializes in women’s, urban, and ethnic history. She has studied and written about the history of women workers in Philadelphia. Her work has been published in Labor History and she has contributed to the online Encyclopedia of Greater Phila­delphia. She has a BA from Holy Family U ­ niversity, Philadelphia; an MA from the University of Wisconsin, Milwaukee; and a PhD from Temple University, Philadelphia. She teaches at Saint Joseph’s University, Philadelphia and at Penn State University, Abington. She has served on the board of the National Collaborative of Women’s History Sites and has been a consultant for the US National Park Service, Franklin Institute, Atwater Kent Museum, Historic Bartram’s Garden, the Greater Philadelphia Gardens Collaborative and the Rittenhouse Coalition for the Preservation of Sacred Places. Sharon Williams Leahy is founder and principal of HistoryPreserve, a historic preservation and heritage consulting firm, and co‐editor of the letters of Julia Gardiner Tyler. Christopher J. Leahy is professor of history at Keuka College, in the Finger Lakes region of New York State. He is ­writing a biography of John Tyler and is co‐­editor of the letters of Julia Gardiner Tyler.



notes on contributors

Anthony Rama Maravillas earned a doctorate in history at the University of Illinois under the direction of Richard M. Fried. An independent scholar and historian, Professor Maravillas has also taught at various colleges and universities in the Chicago area. He had published essays, articles, and reviews and given presentations that examine US political, military, and social history. Dr. Maravillas is affiliated with the College of DuPage in Glen Ellyn, Illinois. He resides in Northern California. John F. Marszalek is Mississippi State University Giles Distinguished Professor Emeritus of History and executive director and managing editor of the Ulysses S. Grant Association’s Ulysses S. Grant Presidential Library, Mississippi State University. He is the award winning author/editor of sixteen books, including The Petticoat Affair: Manners, Mutiny, and Sex in Andrew Jackson’s White House (1997). Anita McBride was the second‐term chief of staff to Laura Bush, having previously served in the White House and in the State Department for George W. Bush and as director of White House personnel for George H. W. Bush and ­Ronald Reagan. She is an executive in residence at American University in Washington, DC, directing programs on US first ladies, and advises several policy institutes and cultural organizations. She wishes to thank Lisa Moscatiello for her invaluable assistance. Janette Kenner Muir (PhD, University of Massachusetts, 1986) is associate provost for undergraduate education at George Mason University and associate professor of integrative studies. Her research focuses on political communication, civic engagement, and the study of the presidency, with a primary interest in first lady scholarship.

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Christina Mune is academic librarian at San Jose State University. Ms. Mune studies women’s roles and gender in the ­nineteenth‐ century American West. She has published entries for the Encyclopedia of Populism in America: A Historical Encyclopedia and has written for various scholarly journals in the field of library science. Amanda Mathews Norton is assistant editor for the Adams Papers Editorial Project at the Massachusetts Historical Society. She is most recently a contributing editor to the Adams Family Correspondence, volume 12 (2015). Valerie Palmer‐Mehta is associate professor in the Department of Communication and Journalism at Oakland University. Her research may be found in a variety of journals such as Communication, Culture & Critique, Text and Performance Quarterly, Women’s Studies in Communication, Journal of American Culture, as well as in edited collections such as Women and Ethos: ­Identifying a Feminist Ecological Imaginary (2016) and Black Women’s Intellectual Traditions: Speaking Their Minds (2007). William D. Pederson is professor of political science, American studies chair, and director of the International Lincoln Center at Louisiana State University Shreveport. Among his thirty books are James Madison (2008), Lincoln Lessons (2009), and A Companion to Franklin D. Roosevelt (Wiley Blackwell, 2011). Finn Pollard is senior lecturer in history at the University of Lincoln, UK. His publications include The Literary Quest for an American National Character (2009); an April 2013 article on Aldous Huxley, J. B. Priestley and the United States; and a 2014 book chapter on Washington’s ranking in presidential surveys. Jason Roberts is history and government instructor at Quincy College in Quincy,

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notes on contributors

Massachusetts. He received his PhD in ­nineteenth‐ and twentieth‐century American political history from George Washington University. He has researched and written about Soviet espionage, the Alger Hiss case, radicals in the 1960s, and the American presidency. He is the author of “First Ladies,” in Sibley, ed., A Companion to Warren G. Harding, Calvin Coolidge, and Herbert Hoover (Wiley Blackwell, 2014). Pamela K. Sanfilippo served as historian at the Ulysses S. Grant National Historic Site from 1997 to 2014. Her published articles include “Sunlight and Shadow: Women’s Spaces at White Haven” (2003); “Slavery at White Haven” (2003); and “U. S. Grant: Birth to the Mexican American War” (2014). She is currently working on a scholarly biography of Julia Dent Grant. Merry Ellen Scofield is assistant editor for the Papers of Thomas Jefferson at Princeton University. Her recent publications include “Yea or Nay to Removing the Seat of Government: Dolley Madison and the Realities of 1814 Politics,” The Historian (2012) and “The Dolley Myths,” White House History (2012). Katherine A. S. Sibley has been professor of history at Saint Joseph’s University in Philadelphia since 1991. Editor of this volume and author of Chapter  22, she ­ appeared on C‐SPAN’s First Ladies series to discuss Florence Harding in 2013. Her most recent edited book was A Companion to Warren G. Harding, Calvin Coolidge, and Herbert Hoover (Wiley Blackwell, 2014); she also contributed a chapter on World War II and the postwar era to the Globalyceum online history curriculum platform. She has published four monographs: First Lady Florence Kling Harding: Behind the Tragedy and Controversy (2009), Red Spies in America: Stolen Secrets and the Dawn of the Cold War (2004); The Cold War (1998) and Loans and Legitimacy: The Evolution of Soviet‐American Relations,

1919–1933 (1996). She edits a book series, the US in International Perspective, and serves on the editorial board of American Communist History as well as on the H ­ istorical Advisory Committee to the Office of the Historian at the US State Department. In 2014 she organized a conference on the Harding–Coolidge–Hoover era, “Reflections on the New Era: Reassessing the 1920s,” at Williams College. Her articles have appeared in Diplomatic History, Intelligence and National Security, and Peace and Change. Nancy Kegan Smith was archivist for the National Archives and Records Administration from 1973 until 2012. In 1998 she became director of the Presidential Materials Division. She retired in 2012 and is currently a consultant. She authored the book Modern First Ladies: Their Documentary Legacy and articles on presidential records and on first ladies and their papers. Elizabeth Lorelei Thacker‐Estrada, who earned a Master’s degree in library and information studies at the University of California, Berkeley, is the manager of the Merced Branch of the San Francisco Public Library. She has contributed to the volumes White House Studies (2001), Laura Bush: The Report to the First Lady (2001, 2005), American First Ladies (2002, 2006), The Presidential Companion (2003, 2006), Life in the White House (2004), Michelle Obama: The Report to the First Lady (2009), and The First White House Library (2010). She was an invited speaker at the 2010 “Reading in the White House” symposium at the Library of Congress in Washington, DC. Currently she is working on a biography of First Lady Abigail Powers Fillmore. Robert P. Watson is professor of American studies at Lynn University and a frequent media commentator, with 36 published books and hundreds of scholarly articles, chapters, and essays on American politics and history.



notes on contributors

Billy L. Wayson is an independent scholar with a PhD from the University of Virginia and extensive experience in business, elected office, and commercial farming. He is the author of “Jefferson and Affairs of the Heart,” in F. D. Cogliano, ed., A Companion to Thomas Jefferson (Wiley Blackwell, 2011), and Martha Jefferson Randolph, Republican Daughter and Plantation Mistress (2013). His current book project is a detailed study of Jefferson’s financial affairs in the context of political, social,

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and cultural forces affecting economic activities and agricultural technology at the turn of the nineteenth century. Nancy Beck Young is professor and chair of the history department at the University of Houston. Young has written three books: Wright Patman: Populism, Liberalism, and the American Dream (2000); Lou Henry Hoover: Activist First Lady (2004); and Why We Fight: Congress and the Politics of World War II (2013).

Acknowledgements

As all such projects are, this book is the result of a scaffold of multiple collaborators; I could not have done it otherwise! I am enduringly grateful to all the contributors whose work has enriched this volume and who have so enlightened me, especially on the obscure corners of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries and on what I thought I knew of the more familiar twentieth and twenty‐first. I so appreciate, too, the efforts of those who offered recommendations for prospective authors, including Maurine Beasley, Myra Gutin, Lisa Burns, Katherine Jellison, Chris Leahy, John Marszalek, Randall Miller, Jason Roberts, Nancy Smith, and Hans Vought. For the earlier opportunities I gained to research and to present on first ladies that led to the volume you hold in your hands, I would like to thank Saint Joseph’s University, the staff of Drexel Library, and the Pennsylvania Humanities Council for their support. I was most fortunate earlier this year to have Elizabeth Thacker-Estrada host me at her library, the Merced Branch of the San Francisco Public Library, for a talk there; and audiences at Temple Shir Hadash in Los Gatos, California, at Swarthmore Public Library in Swarthmore, Pennsylvania, and at Congregation Beth Israel in Media, Pennsylvania have all been part of my first

ladies presentations in years past. I benefited much from those who offered their thoughtful commentary and questions at these talks. In 2014, a number of the authors herein, including myself, were fortunate to present their findings on first ladies under the ­ auspices of the Stanley Kaplan Program in American Foreign Policy at Williams College, at a ­conference entitled “Reflections on the New Era: Reassessing the 1920s.” James McAllister, Carrie Greene, and Veronica Bosley did much to make that a most enjoyable and well‐received conference. C‐SPAN’s First Ladies: Influence & Image series provided me with an opportunity to discuss Florence Harding on air in 2013, and my thanks go to Anita McBride and to Andrew Nason for that opportunity, as well as to my co‐panelist David Pietrusza for a stimulating evening. In 2011 I had the role of a lifetime being Florence Harding in a play at the annual Harding Symposium at Ohio State University, Marion. The organizational, musical, and acting talents of David Claborn, Gary Iams, Merrill Cooper Bender, Carol Becker, Louise Vance, and Tina Salamone made for a thrilling show that night! Florence entered my life years ago, of course, with Trella Romine and Bob Ferrell, who were among my earliest mentors and



acknowledgements

inspirations in making her come alive; Trella, you are much missed. I remain thankful to the Marion County Historical Society and to the First Ladies Library in Canton, Ohio for all the assistance they lent me at that time, along with the Ohio Historical Society in Columbus and the Library of Congress in Washington, DC. Randall Miller and Steven Fram greatly tightened and improved Chapter 22 herein; any mistakes or infelicities, of course, remain my own. Fred Woodward of the University Press of Kansas, too, kindly made arrangements for my use of material from First Lady Florence Harding: Behind the Tragedy and Controversy (2009) in this volume. Carl Sferazza Anthony provided me with key insights on several first ladies, including Ida McKinley. I am indebted to Lewis Gould for so many reasons, and in particular for his interest in first ladies, which launched our field in the 1980s, as well as for his giving me a chance to write about Florence Harding earlier in my career, when he was the editor of Kansas’s Modern First Ladies series, several of whose authors are also in this volume. I continue to delight in the wide‐ranging conversations that a passion for these women has brought me, both recently and going back for so many years, with fellow enthusiasts like him as well as Carl Sferazza Anthony, Anita McBride, Catherine Allgor, Nancy Smith, Catherine Forslund, Nancy Beck Young, Kristie Miller, Gay Walley, Steve Haber, Joe Horwitz, and George Sibley.

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The team at Wiley Blackwell has been wonderful to work with; most especially I would like to thank Peter Coveney, who has been a stalwart source of encouragement for two of my Companions now, beginning with A Companion to Warren G. Harding, Calvin Coolidge, and Herbert Hoover (2014); on this volume in particular, I am also most grateful for the assistance of Manuela Tecusan, whose encouragement, humor, and erudition as an editor kept me going during the manuscript’s last, late‐night hours of gestation, and to many o ­ thers, including Roshna Mohan, Dilip Kizzhakekkara, Mary Anton, Elizabeth Saucier, Ashley McPhee, Megan Posco, Sasha Martin, and Natalie McGregor. At Saint Joseph’s, Kelly White and Kaia Turner provided helpful research assistance, and Denise Thomas, as always, was both resourceful and incredibly responsive to all queries and requests. This book’s production costs were also supported by the Michael J. Morris Grant for Scholarly Research at Saint Joseph’s University. Herbert Ragan of the William J. Clinton Presidential Library courteously provided us an image for this volume. Finally, to my nearest and dearest—I dedicate this book to all three of you, Joe, Jonah, and Marin, who have been so generous in sharing your lives with first ladies and whose love and support has delighted and diverted me at just the right moments. I look forward to sharing more time with you all in 2016!

Introduction Katherine A. S. Sibley

In 1984 Betty Ford organized the first national conference on American first ladies at the Gerald Ford Library and Museum, under the name “Modern First Ladies: Private Lives and Public Duties.” While Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis, Lady Bird Johnson, Patricia Nixon, and Nancy Reagan had to send their regrets, Betty Ford and Rosalynn Carter were there, and the confer­ ence was also graced by four first offspring: Eleanor Roosevelt’s granddaughter Eleanor Seagraves; two daughters of Lady Bird Johnson—Linda Johnson Robb and Luci Johnson Turpin; and Susan Ford Vance, the daughter of Betty Ford. The Museum did not realize what excitement it had unleashed; more than two hundred journalists showed up, far beyond the organizers’ predictions. Interest in first ladies was higher than a­nyone knew (Gerald R. Ford Foundation Newsletter, 1984). More than thirty years later, this interest shows no sign of waning, as this Companion demonstrates in chapters that cover every first lady, from Martha Washington (Chapter  1) to Michelle Obama (Chapters 39–40). The contributors to this volume

offer a broad exploration of the scholarship that addresses first ladies’ roles, from host­ ing levees and state dinners to promoting causes in fields such as health, education, and the rights of the disadvantaged; in ­addition, our authors investigate the often subtle ways these women are understood to have served as advisers to their husbands, brothers, fathers, and uncles (depending on their relationship with the president), with varying levels of political influence. Along with an assessment of the historiography on all the first ladies, each chapter features bio­ graphical sketches based on the most recent scholarship. The new interest in first ladies that the 1984 conference revealed was itself the product of a confluence of several serendipi­ tous events. In 1982, Siena College had started its first first lady‐ranking survey (now known as the Siena Research Institute/ CSPAN First Lady Study), suggesting that the importance of these women to h­istorians and to history was as measurable as their husbands’. At the same time, scholarly bio­ graphies relying on newly available or little used archives had also begun to appear;

A Companion to First Ladies, First Edition. Edited by Katherine A. S. Sibley. © 2016 John Wiley & Sons, Inc. Published 2016 by John Wiley & Sons, Inc.

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Sylvia Jukes Morris’s (1980) study, Edith Kermit Roosevelt: Portrait of a First Lady, was one such exemplar. The same month when the Ford Museum conference took place, Rosalynn Carter in fact published her own autobiography, First Lady from Plains (Carter, 1984), which would outsell her husband’s 1982 volume, Keeping Faith (Carter, 1982). The controversial woman in the White House in 1984, Nancy Reagan, was also a precipitating factor in this burgeoning i­ nterest. Betty Ford alluded to Nancy’s d­ifficulties with the “media crucible” when she expressed her hope that conferences like hers would bring less criticism of first ladies in the future (Klemesrud, 1984; Forslund, 2007). Attacked at first as “more ceremo­ nial than substantive” even before she took office (Troy, 2000: 286), then called “Queen Nancy” (Anthony 1990: 312) for her purchases of china and fancy duds, by 1984 Nancy Reagan had weathered the v­ilification and was looking more substantial. Indeed she left for the country of China with her husband a week after the first ladies c­ onference. Moreover, just three weeks before, on March 27, she had brought the house down at Washington’s Gridiron Dinner, dressing up in Salvation Army s­ artorial splendor and singing “Second Hand Clothes” as a parody of her glamor­ ous image; in this way she won the respect and appreciation of the very representatives of the media who had attacked her most harshly (all this is detailed in Chapter  34). Her 1984 “rehabilitation,” as Pierre‐Marie Loizeau (2004) put it, also contained a new emphasis on activism, including her twin causes of championing the Foster Grandparents program and fighting drug abuse. While activism was not new (Helen Taft, Ellen Wilson, and Florence Harding all pursued social justice concerns, as Chapters 19, 20, and 22 discuss), it has come to more firmly define first ladies in recent years. Treading carefully in this area has long been vital, however; first ladies, expected to

preserve the flavor of what has traditionally been considered a ceremonial position, have had to toe a fine line between their wishes to turn their potentially powerful position into a vehicle for the promotion of causes and the country’s sentimental expectation that they remain demurely in the background and on the pedestal (Caroli, 1987). Yet, even in 1984, that background role—best exemplified by Bess Truman’s statement that a woman’s place in public was “to sit beside her husband, be silent, and make sure her hat is on straight” (quoted in Boller, 1998: 316)—was already fading. “I think the role of First Lady has changed as the role of women has changed,” Mrs. Carter stated boldly at the conference, “and it will probably never be the same again” (quoted in Klemesrud, 1984). She was right, as her fellow first lady Betty Ford confirmed. Answering a question as to her influence in the Ford Administration by comparison to the vice president’s, she noted: “I had more close contact with my husband … and my input was reflected in his decisions.” Rosalynn Carter agreed, point­ ing out that she would press her own spouse directly in pursuit of her causes and would get results (Klemesrud, 1984). These women were both activists—for the Equal Rights Amendment and for mental illness respec­ tively, as Chapters 32 and 33 show. Bess Truman, of course, was not (see Chapter 27). In the half‐dozen years following the 1984 conference many more new studies appeared, which suggested that the first ladies’ moment was going to be a lasting one: Betty Boyd Caroli’s (1987) First Ladies, Myra Gutin’s (1987) The President’s Partner: The First Lady in the Twentieth Century, Nancy Kegan Smith and Mary C. Ryan’s (1989) Modern First Ladies: Their Documentary Legacy, and Carl Sferrazza Anthony’s (1990) First Ladies: The Saga of the President’s Wives and Their Power, 1789– 1961—as well as two articles that Gould wrote in Presidential Studies Quarterly (Gould, 1985, 1990). Within a decade,



introduction

First Lady Hillary Clinton was holding c­onversations with officials at the National First Ladies Library for the opening of their new archive next door to Ida McKinley’s house in Canton, Ohio (firstladies.org). And two decades later, in 2005, as the former school librarian in the White House—Laura Bush, discussed in Chapter  38—was about to start a second term that would take her to 65 countries and one war zone, the first biographies in Gould’s Modern First Ladies series were appearing, several of whose authors are featured in this Companion: Young (2005), Gutin (2008), Sibley (2009), Beasley (2010), and Brennan (2011). In the timespan of one generation or more that has passed since the 1984 confer­ ence, historians have wrestled with such aspects of first ladies’ work and attributes as polling data and professional responsibilities (Watson, 2000), marriage (Marton, 2001), communication styles (Wertheimer, 2004), relations with the press (Beasley, 2005), and representative functions (Borrelli, 2011). Numerous books and articles have also looked at other areas, from feminism (Gutin and Tobin, 1993) to physique (Lugo‐Lugo and Bloodworth‐Lugo, 2011), and these topics and their interdisciplinary potential are only expanding. Today, with a C‐SPAN series titled First Ladies: Influence and Image (C‐SPAN, 2013–2014) and with regular conferences that feature first ladies as their focus—from Marion (Ohio), the home of Florence Kling Harding, to American University (Washington, DC), where the Legacies of American’s First Ladies Conference series is housed and to Dar es Salaam (Tanzania), a city where African First Ladies have come together under the auspices of the George W. Bush Institute—the topic is a hot one, both domestically and internationally. At the Gerald R. Ford Museum, Gould asked his audience to consider first ladies’ roles as “helpmates, appendages, surrogates, and partners of the presidents,” as well as “autonomous human beings with as much

3

claim to the attention of [historians] … as their masculine counterparts” (Gould, 1985: 538). As so much attention is now being turned to first ladies’ many facets, his plea may seem less pressing, even obsolete, perhaps, in its gendered language. Nonetheless his sentiment is spot on. The field is clearly beginning to move well beyond its earlier confines of “soft political history or elite women’s history” (Young, 2012)—the kind of work that typified the study of first ladies for a century, from Elizabeth F. Ellet’s (1869) Court Circles of the Republic, or, the Beauties and Celebrities of the Nation Illustrating Life and Society under Eighteen Presidents to Marianne Means’s The Woman in the White House: The Lives, Times and Influence of Twelve Notable First Ladies (1963). The scholarship that has been conducted in the last generation has instead contextualized first ladies, taking them off their pedestal and placing them in their times—and fittingly so, since, “in the most profound sense, the study of First Ladies holds up a mirror to ourselves” (Gould, 1985: 537). But there is still a good deal to be done, as the pages to follow will demonstrate; definitive biographies of these women remain for the most part to be w­ ritten, and many productive paths of scholarship lie open. In the process of filling these gaps, there is much enjoyment and greater understand­ ing to be gleaned from what has been put on paper and online already, and the c­hapters that follow lay it out succinctly and most readably in the volume you hold. Every first  lady, whether a wife or not, has been included here, no matter how fleeting her term. While the founding generation of first ladies has not been neglected in scholarship, their later, nineteenth‐century counterparts have often been forgotten or dismissed in popular consciousness as “invalids” (with a few notable exceptions). The chapters in these pages reveal many surprising finds on these underrated first ladies, who wrestled with sometimes tragic circumstances and

4

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were often more learned than their peers. As for the twentieth and twenty‐first century women in the White House, their position has only become more prominent and c­ omplex as research has expanded on them, and the writers here fully show this trajectory of greater influence, as well as the ever‐changing scholarly assessment of it. It is that assessment—a close study of the developing scholarly (and sometimes popular) understanding of all the first ladies since the American Revolution and across the decades—that makes this Companion unique; unlike the other works noted above, this is a historiographical treatment. Many of the outstanding scholars who feature as authors in these two volumes have them­ selves contributed to building the current structure of first lady historiography through their own research on the social, political, and rhetorical aspects of these women. In addition to those already mentioned above, the volume includes such first lady scholars as Catherine Allgor, Elizabeth Thacker‐ Estrada, Lisa M. Burns, Katherine Jellison, Janette Muir, Anita McBride, and Diana Carlin, along with many other experts whose background in journalism, communications studies, history, and political science lends new insights and a fresh approach to a topic that is certainly going to inspire more analysis and exploration in the years to come. Swarthmore, Pennsylvania

References All the websites here were last accessed on October 18, 2015. Anthony, C. S. 1990. First Ladies: The Saga of the President’s Wives and Their Power, 1789–1961. New York: Harper Collins. Beasley, M. 2005. First Ladies and the Press: The Unfinished Partnership of the Media Age. Evanston, IL: Northwestern University Press. Beasley, M. 2010. Eleanor Roosevelt: Transformative First Lady. Lawrence: University Press of Kansas. Boller, P. F. 1998. Presidential Wives, rev. edn. New York: Oxford University Press.

Borrelli, M. 2011. The Politics of the President’s Wife. College Station: Texas A&M University Press. Brennan, M. 2011. Pat Nixon: Embattled First Lady. Lawrence: University Press of Kansas. Caroli, B. B. 1987. First Ladies. New York: Oxford University Press. Carter, J. 1982. Keeping Faith: Memoirs of a President. New York: Bantam Carter, Rosalynn. Carter, R. 1984. First Lady from Plains. Boston: Houghton Mifflin Company. C‐SPAN. 2013–2014. First Ladies: Influence and Image. http://firstladies.c‐span.org. Ellet, E. F. 1869. Court Circles of the Republic, or, the Beauties and Celebrities of the Nation Illustrating Life and Society under Eighteen Presidents, Describing the Social Features of the Successive Administrations from Washington to Grant. Hartford, CT: Hartford. Forslund, C. 2007. Unpublished and untitled mss. Gerald R. Ford Foundation Newsletter. 1984. “A First for First Families.” Summer. http:// geraldrfordfoundation.org/wp‐content/ uploads/2015/01/Summer‐1984‐GRFF‐ Newsletter.pdf. Gould, L. L. 1985. “Modern First Ladies in Historical Perspective.” Presidential Studies Quarterly 15 (3): 532–540. Gould, L. L. 1990. “Modern First Ladies and the Presidency.” Presidential Studies Quarterly 20 (4): 677–683. Gutin, M. G. 1989. The President’s Partner: The First Lady in the Twentieth Century. Westport, CT: Greenwood. Gutin, M. G. 2008. Barbara Bush: Presidential Matriarch. Lawrence: University Press of Kansas. Gutin, M. G., and L. E. Tobin. 1993. “‘You’ve Come a Long Way Mr. President’: Betty Ford as First Lady.” In Gerald R. Ford and the Politics of Post‐Watergate America, edited by B. J. Firestone and A. Ugrinsky, vol. 2: 623–632. Westport, CT: Greenwood. Klemesrud, J. 1984. “Examining the Role of First Lady.” New York Times, April 20. Loizeau, P.‐M. 2004. Nancy Reagan: The Woman Behind the Man. New York: Nova Publishers. Lugo‐Lugo, C. R., and M. K. Bloodsworth‐ Lugo. 2011. “Bare Biceps and American (In)



introduction

Security: Post–9/11 Constructions of Safety, Threat, and the First Black First Lady.” Women’s Studies Quarterly 39 (1–2): 200– 217. Marton, K. 2001. Hidden Power: Presidential Marriages That Shaped Our History. New York: Anchor. Means, M. 1963. The Woman in the White House: The Lives, Times and Influence of Twelve Notable First Ladies. New York: Random House. Morris, S. J. 1980. Edith Kermit Roosevelt: Portrait of a First Lady. New York: Coward, McCann and Geoghegan. Sibley, K. A. S. 2009. First Lady Florence Harding: Behind the Tragedy and Controversy. Lawrence: University Press of Kansas. Siena Research Institute/CSPAN First Lady Study. 2015. The First Ladies Study. https:// www.siena.edu/centers‐institutes/siena‐ research‐institute/social‐cultural‐polls/first‐ ladies‐study. Smith, N. K., and M. C. Ryan. 1989. Modern First Ladies: Their Documentary Legacy. Washington: National Archives and Records Administration.

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Troy, G. 2000. Mr. and Mrs. President: From the Trumans to the Clintons. Lawrence: University Press of Kansas. Watson, R. P. 2000. The Presidents’ Wives: Reassessing the Office of First Lady. Boulder, CO: Lynn Rienner. Wertheimer, M. M., ed. 2004. Leading Ladies of the White House: Communication Strategies of Notable 20th Century First Ladies. New York: Rowman and Littlefield. Young, N. B. 2005. Lou Henry Hoover: Activist First Lady. Lawrence: University Press of Kansas. Young, Nancy Beck. 2012. “The Idea of the First Lady.” Unpublished mss.

Further Reading Carter, J. 2004. Sharing Good Times. New York: Simon and Schuster. Gould, L. L. 1986. “First Ladies.” American Scholar 55 (4): 528–535. Gould, L. L. 2001. American First Ladies: Their Lives and Their Legacy, 2nd edn. New York: Routledge.

Chapter One

Martha Washington Robert P. Watson

Martha Dandridge Custis, a native Virginian born in 1732, was the wife of George Washington. In that capacity she became the nation’s first “first lady.” She also dis­ tinguished herself as a gifted and gracious hostess for the young republic’s political affairs, her husband’s trusted confidante, and a beloved symbol of the American Revolution. Young Martha Martha Dandridge was the first of eight chil­ dren born to John Dandridge (1701–1756) and Frances Jones Dandridge (1710–1785) of New Kent County, Virginia. Three brothers and four sisters followed, the last being born in 1756, when Martha was in her mid‐ twenties and already a wife and a mother with young children of her own. According to the family Bible, she was born on June 2, 1731 at the family’s two‐story home known as Chestnut Grove. Martha appears to have had a normal and happy upbringing. However, few records and no personal l­etters of hers from that time have survived through history (Brady, 1996; Fields, 1994). The Dandridge family lineage can be traced back to the sixteenth and seventeenth

centuries, when they were living in Oxfordshire, England. Surviving records from that time suggest that most of the Dandridge men in England made their l­iving by farming and that several of the men in the family prospered. Documents also show that the first of Martha’s ancestors to cross the Atlantic Ocean were William Dandridge and his younger brother John, who came to America in 1715 (Fields, 1994). The two Dandridge boys made their new home in the Crown’s Virginia Colony, where they succeeded as merchants. They also wisely acquired vast land holdings in the eastern part of the colony and added to their wealth through the subsequent lease and sale of these properties. The younger son, John, married Frances Jones, who had been born in the colonies and whose family included a line of well‐ respected preachers and religious leaders. Her ancestors hailed from England and Wales. One of them, Reverend Rowland Jones, grandfather of the woman whom John Dandridge married, appears to have been the first Jones to settle in the New World after sailing from Wales. Reverend Jones established a successful ministry in Virginia and his family, much like the

A Companion to First Ladies, First Edition. Edited by Katherine A. S. Sibley. © 2016 John Wiley & Sons, Inc. Published 2016 by John Wiley & Sons, Inc.



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Dandridge boys, was part of the new, landed class of colonists (Watson, 2002). Later on John Dandridge and Frances Jones would have a daughter named Martha, who would one day become the first lady of the United States of America. Martha’s father, John, held several jobs and also served as county clerk. He owned a successful plantation on roughly five hun­ dred acres near the Pamunkey River in the Tidewater region of eastern Virginia, which is where his daughter Martha was raised. On the basis of the few surviving records, s­cholars have suggested that the Dandridge family was not in the upper echelon of Virginia’s elite. Rather it could be considered as part of the colony’s “lesser aristocracy” (Anthony, 1990; Fields, 1994). Because of the location of the family home, the family’s relative affluence, and her father’s public position, Martha likely met members of Virginia’s ruling families during her formative years, for example when they attended important social f­ unctions at the governor’s palace in Williamsburg, the colonial capital and most important social and political town in the region. It also appears that the Dandridges hosted neighbors and leading families at their home. Thanks to these opportunities, Martha would have been exposed from an early age to politics and to the social norms of entertaining. Of course, these were skills that would come in handy later in life when she served as first lady. She also participated in a débutante’s “coming out” event, some­ thing that was common in the colony among fifteen‐year‐old daughters of prominent parents with “aspirations” (Anthony, 1990; Bryan, 2002: 38). Miss Dandridge’s childhood and teenage years were likely normal for a girl in a family with the social standing of the Dandridges. There are some clues as to her earliest expe­ riences as a child and as a teenager. For instance, it is almost certain that she would have assisted her mother and others in host­ ing dinner parties and social galas, thereby

7

developing skills as a homemaker. Martha knew how to cook and sew, and she acted with the social graces expected of a young woman of means in the colonial era. As an adult, she was a talented cook and a skilled hostess (Anthony, 1990; Watson, 2002). Her education would also have been one based on domesticity. This practical educa­ tion was supplemented by lessons in music and dancing, likely from visiting tutors, and by exposure to the teachings of the Anglican Church (Anthony, 1990; Watson, 2002). As an adult, Martha was an active churchgoer, an avid reader of the Bible, and a religious, but not pious woman. Mrs. Washington enjoyed literature and was a prolific letter writer, traits she likely fashioned as a child. However, she was an inconsistent speller—she spelled phoneti­ cally. This feature caused her some embar­ rassment during George Washington’s military and political career. During her married life, Mrs. Washington was also a practitioner of homeopathic medicine. She kept a book of home cures she relied on when friends and family members were taken ill. The tragic loss of her children and other loved ones would contribute to Martha’s behaving much like a hypochon­ driac. For instance, she discussed matters of health in many of her surviving letters and she worried about every sneeze and cough. More adventurous as a teenager, Martha developed great skill on horseback. She abandoned riding later in life, perhaps on account of the weight she gained, but she always enjoyed carriage rides (Brady, 1996; Watson, 2002). Mrs. Custis As a teenager, Martha Dandridge likely had several suitors on account of her family’s social status. She was described as being of average physical attractiveness, with almond‐shaped, hazel eyes, medium‐brown hair, and a soft, round face (Anthony, 1990; Watson, 2002).

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r o b e rt p . wat s o n

Standing roughly five feet in height, Martha was thin as a young woman. A computer­ ized “age‐regression” of an existing ­portrait—a version of which now hangs in Mount Vernon—has confirmed her former svelte visage (Farr, 2012). The more recog­ nizable plump, matronly physique and demeanor identified with her in her later years appear to have come about around the time of motherhood, as evidenced by sur­ viving portraits and letters. Paintings of the mature woman represent someone who seems reluctant to “sit” for the artist. She was a private individual who did not like being the focus of an artist’s brush. As a result, in the paintings Martha stares blankly back at the viewer, often w­earing her signa­ ture white bonnet, which was somewhat fashionable for women of the time (Watson, 2000b). Martha’s father, John Dandridge, was an elder at St. Peter’s Church, where the Dandridges were active members. This c­onnection to the church made possible her first marriage. Also serving as a deacon at St. Peter’s was Daniel Parke Custis. It appears that Martha first caught Custis’s attention when she was only seventeen, although he likely knew her from the time she was a child. Twenty years Martha’s senior, Custis was born in 1711 and was heir to one of the colony’s largest tobacco plantations. One of the most eligible bachelors in the colony, Custis had never married and was thirty‐ nine when he wed John Dandridge’s n­ineteen‐year‐old daughter. Little is known about the courtship (Fields, 1994: 421, 430, 434), but Daniel’s father (also a John) was initially opposed to the union. John Custis, a difficult and t­emperamental man, believed that his son would be marrying well below the family’s social standing. Virginia was perhaps the colony most conscious of social class, and such marital concerns among its elite were not uncommon. Moreover, the elder Custis had derailed his son’s earlier plans to marry other women, and for similar reasons (Brady,

1996). The details are vague, but it is known that John Custis ultimately changed his mind about the wedding after meeting the teenager, which suggests that Martha was a confident and impressive young woman (Watson, 2002). The couple married in 1750 at the Custis home, which was located roughly thirty miles from Williamsburg and was known ironically as “the White House.” As the wife of a tobacco heir, Martha enjoyed a comfortable and affluent home life. However, her marriage was filled with hardships. One of them was motherhood. The young bride had four children over a period of less than six years. The children were Daniel Parke (1751–1754); Frances Parke (1753–1757); John Parke (1754–1781), nicknamed “Jacky”; and Martha Parke (1756–1773), known as “Patsy.” Tragically, Martha’s first two children died in infancy, Frances when Martha was pregnant with John and Daniel a few months later, during the year in which John was born. To make matters worse, Martha’s own father died in 1756—the year in which her last child, the one named after her, was born. In the fol­ lowing year her husband, who had often struggled with health issues, passed away. After just eight years of marriage, Martha had given birth to four children, buried two of them, and lost her father and her h­usband. She was only twenty‐six at the time. There was little time for mourning. The Custis widow had two infant children at home. She was also responsible now for the large and lucrative Custis estate and planta­ tion. During the difficult years when she was still married, her father‐in‐law also died. Because her husband had no living siblings, she was now the sole heir to the family tobacco fortune. Not only was she con­ fronted with the management of several large homes, the plantation, and the many slaves owned by the Custis family, but a long‐running, complicated, and potentially ruinous lawsuit hung over the Custis b­usiness. The legal matter came to the fore after Daniel Custis’s death (Anthony, 1990;



m a rt h a wa s h i n g t o n

Brady, 1996). The fact that Daniel Custis did not leave behind a will and had not resolved the lawsuit suggests that he died suddenly and unexpectedly. Martha nevertheless demonstrated great business acumen in dealing with the will, the lawsuit, and operations on the planta­ tion. Some surviving letters reveal that the widow hired some of the leading attorneys and politicians in Virginia to represent her (Fields, 1994: 29–31, 54, 437; Watson, 2000b). The lawsuit was resolved to her s­atisfaction and, under Martha’s guidance, an extensive plantation with thousands of acres of land, several buildings, and a large workforce thrived. She also wisely decided to continue correspondence and business relations with her late husband’s partners and representatives, both in Virginia and in England. In one letter she notified a group of London merchants associated with Daniel: I take the Opportunity to inform you of the great misfortune I have met with in the loss of my late Husband … As I now have the Administration of his Estate and the management of his Affairs of all sorts I shall be glad to continue the correspondence which Mr. Custis carried on with you. (Fields, 1994: xx)

Domestic Tranquility Like Daniel Custis, George Washington, too, probably knew Martha well before they m­ arried, although no firm documentation exists on the matter (Fields, 1994: 445, 447). The two young Virginians lived not far from each other, were of roughly the same age (she was one year his senior), and likely attended some of the same social events in Williamsburg during the popular winter social season (Watson, 2000b). However, she was much higher on the social scale than Washington, whose father died when he was young and who lacked the advantage of a higher e­ducation or opportunity to travel.

9

As a young military officer, Washington was highly ambitious and the prospects of marrying a wealthy, established woman would have attracted him (Anthony, 1990). Indeed, as a young man Washington had unsuccessfully attempted to court daughters of prominent families. He also nurtured an infatuation with an older, wealthy woman named Sally Cary Fairfax, who happened to be married to one of his neighbors (Brady, 1996). For her part, it is probable that Martha, on account of social norms and gender roles of the time, would have been eager to remarry rather quickly. It would help to have someone who could manage the estate and business and could serve as a father to her young children. Unfortunately no letters survive about their courtship (Fields, 1994). Many years later, however, Martha’s grandson, George Washington Custis, did tell the story of how the two met in 1758 (Watson, 2002). According to his account, Washington, a young colonial military officer at the time, was traveling to Williamsburg on business when he stopped to rest and water his horse near the home of a prominent neighbor and associate of the Custis widow by the name of Chamberlayne. Washington was invited to dine at the Chamberlayne home but declined, invoking the urgency of getting to Williamsburg for a meeting of great i­ mportance to his career. However, the young officer changed his mind when Chamberlayne informed him that his house guest that day was one of the wealthiest widows in the colony. Although there is no record of what Martha Custis and George Washington said to each other at the Chamberlayne estate, it is known that they began courting imme­ diately and that Washington ordered a wedding ring and a new suit for the affair rather quickly. They were married on January 6, 1759 at the White House, the Custis family home that Martha had inherited. Washington secured for himself not just a bride but extensive land holdings, a fortune,

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and a family. Washington wrote to a friend about his marriage and his new wife: I am now I believe fixd at this Seat with an agreeable Consort for life and hope to find more happiness in retirement than I ever experienced amid a wide and bustling World. (Fields, 1994: xxi)

Although they seemed to be physically and emotionally mismatched—he was tall and she was short; he was ambitious and she was private, he was bold and she was cautious— the couple also had much in common. They did not gamble, remained loyal to their marriage, refrained from excessive use of alcohol, and were free from the many social vices that plagued some other prominent families. Both were early risers who worked hard and were concerned with having a good reputation. They prioritized their home and family life and made a formidable team. It is no surprise that the Washingtons quickly became prominent citizens in Virginia. Although through her first marriage Martha had inherited a considerable amount of land and a few homes and properties, the couple lived at Mount Vernon, a home owned by Washington’s older half‐brother, Lawrence Washington. George Washington inherited the residence in 1761 after Lawrence’s death and after Lawrence’s widow remarried. It would be the center of their solid, four‐ decade­ long union. The plantation prospered, allowing the Washingtons to make several improvements and renovations to the home. They also enlarged the home and estate, which was necessary on account of the many visitors to Mount Vernon. Among the attractions of the home were its scenic location over­ looking the Potomac River and Mrs. Washington’s reputation as a gracious host and skilled cook. She was known for having a sweet tooth, and one of her favorite r­ecipes was a “great cake” made with forty eggs, a

shocking amount of sugar and butter from today’s perspective, and a fruit filling that could serve dozens of guests (Watson, 2000a). She was also known for her baked hams. Washington’s nephew even once observed: “Mrs. Washington’s charitable disposition increases in the same proportion as her meat house” (Fields, 1994: xxi). In these efforts, and in feeding the incessant flow of visitors, Martha had assistance from her many slaves: more than half of Mount Vernon’s enslaved population came from the Custis estate (Brady, 2006). One of the challenges to the Washingtons’ happiness was their inability to have chil­ dren. Although Mrs. Washington’s two sur­ viving children from her first marriage lived at Mount Vernon and were treated by George Washington as if they were his own, husband and wife longed to have children together (Bryan, 2002). Historian W. S. Randall (1997) suggests that previous e­xposure to mumps or smallpox may have left Washington sterile; reproductive s­pecialist John K. Amory (2004) suggests that tuberculosis was the likely culprit. In 1773 tragedy struck again: Martha’s daugh­ ter Patsy, who had long suffered from health problems, collapsed at the dinner table with an epileptic seizure and died. The Washingtons had spent years trying count­ less cures for Patsy, including alternative treatments, but none proved effective. Washington described the impact of losing Patsy in succinct and sad terms: “[The death] reduced my poor wife to the lowest ebb of misery” (Fields, 1994: xxii). Martha’s anguish was noted by her hus­ band and by many friends and family mem­ bers. In fact the loss of a third child so impacted her that she remained in mourn­ ing for months and never fully recovered to full happiness. She was even unable to attend her son Jacky’s wedding to Eleanor “Nelly” Calvert in the following year, though she appears to have long looked for­ ward to his marrying. Given all the loss in her life, it is perhaps understandable that



m a rt h a wa s h i n g t o n

Mrs. Washington expressed tendencies toward hypochondria, constantly dwelling on the health and illnesses of friends and family. In one of her letters, written to her sister and expressing concern for her two children, Martha admitted: I carried my little Pat with me and left Jacky at home for a trial to see how well I could stay without him[;] though we were gon [sic] but a fortnight I was impatient to get home. If I at any time heard the dogs barke or a noise out, I thought thair [sic] was a person sent for me. I often fancied he was sick or some accident happened to him so that I think it is impossible for me to leave him. (Fields, 1994: xxii)

Heroine of the Revolution George and Martha Washington’s domestic tranquility at their beloved Mount Vernon was interrupted by the historic events unfolding around them. George Washington’s public career began in the years leading up to the Revolutionary War, when he served as a member of the Virginia House of Burgesses and was chosen as a del­ egate to the First and Second Continental Congresses in 1774 and 1775. As difficult as it was for Mrs. Washington to deal with these demands, they were nothing by comparison to what was about to happen to the couple. With the prospect of war on the horizon, Washington was selected to lead the fledg­ ling continental army against the British and was appointed general. This commitment caused him to be away from Mount Vernon and his wife for eight long years throughout the l­atter half of the 1770s and the early 1780s, until his command ended in 1783. One of the few surviving letters that the couple exchanged dates to the period of Washington’s appointment as commander of the continental army. Writing to Martha in 1775 and addressing her by her nick­ name, the new general shared his concerns

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about the assignment and about being away from her: You may believe me my dear Patsy, when I assure you, in the most solemn manner, that, so far from seeking this appointment I have used every endeavor in my power to avoid it, not only from my unwillingness to part with you and the Family, but from the consciousness of its being a trust too great for my Capacity and that I should enjoy more happiness and felicity in one month with you, at home, than I have the most distant prospect of reaping abroad, if my stay were to be Seven times Seven years. (Fields, 1994: xxiii)

The war also posed grave personal threats to them both, as the specter of the British sack­ ing Mount Vernon was ever present and prompted General Washington to worry about both his wife’s safety and his home being plundered or destroyed. At one point he pondered asking her to evacuate the resi­ dence, on account of rumors in 1775 that British soldiers or the royal governor in Virginia would sack the home. While General Washington was furious that the British should contemplate such a crime and he worried about what to do, Mrs. Washington dismissed threats to her safety and went about her business as if the war had not begun. At the same time she put the revolutionary cause ahead of her own happi­ ness, privacy, and safety. The general’s nephew, Lund Washington, wrote that Martha was fearless and refused to panic because “she does not believe she is in any danger” (Anthony, 1990: 41–42). Not only did Mrs. Washington make do without her husband at home, she oversaw the home and the thriving plantation during the war, much as she had done after her first husband passed away. Each winter of the war she also traveled hundreds of miles, in difficult weather conditions and across unpaved trails, in order to join her husband in his winter camps (Watson, 2000a). As the commanding officer’s wife, she endured

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attacks on her reputation and on her h­usband’s leadership of the war. At the out­ set of the war, false rumors were spread among the general’s critics that Mrs. Washington had abandoned her husband and was living far away from him, and that she was a Tory. One newspaper referred to her as a “warm loyalist.” Mrs. Washington defended herself and proved her critics wrong, writing: “My mind is made up; my heart is in the cause” (Anthony, 1990: 40). In Cambridge, Valley Forge, Morristown, Newburgh, and elsewhere during the Revolutionary War she was a fixture of camp life, propping up her husband’s sagging spir­ its every winter. Martha assisted her h­usband with his correspondence, and her surviving letters reveal that he entrusted her with secrets. She regularly dined with g­enerals and knew about battle plans and the movement of troops. The general’s wife also busied her­ self cooking and sewing for the soldiers, visit­ ing the wounded, and encouraging women in the communities near the winter head­ quarters to provide food and clothing for the army. In doing so, she brought a sense of home life and n­ormalcy to the camp. Visitors to camp and soldiers frequently commented on her domestic skills and positive influence on her husband (Watson, 2000a). She made friends with the other wives in the camp as well (Bryan, 2002). Not surprisingly, she was popular among soldiers. One soldier wrote of her in his diary: “Mrs. Washington combines in an uncommon degree great dignity of manner with the most pleasing affability” (Fields, 1994: xxiii). The beloved wife of General Washington was even hailed as “Lady Washington” by the army, and a special unit was organized bearing the name “Lady Washington’s Dragoon.” Yet extant letters show the challenges she faced in camp, as well as her courage. Writing about her e­xperience, Mrs. Washington admitted: Some days we have a number of cannon and shells from Boston and Bunkers Hill,

but it does not seem to surprise any one but me; I confess I shudder every time I hear the sound of a gun … I [have] never seen anything of war … but I endeavor to keep my fears to myself as well as I can. (Fields, 1994: xxiii)

Mrs. Washington stoically withstood the shattering changes in her life brought on by the conflict, even though she was an intensely private individual who longed only to have her husband home with her at Mount Vernon. Indeed, she once described herself quaintly as “an old‐fashioned Virginia housekeeper, steady as a clock, busy as a bee, and cheerful as a cricket” (Fields, 1994: 304, letter from June 1797). Despite the quotation’s accuracy, it also understates her courage and contributions to the war, which indeed led to “fatigue … too much for me to bear” later on (quoted in Bryan, 2002: 265). Throughout, she remained humble and unaffected by fame. During the years of the Revolution, Martha became a grandmother: son Jacky and his wife Nelly had four children. The first two were Elizabeth, born in 1774 and nicknamed “Eliza,” and Martha, born in 1777, named after her famous grandmother, and nicknamed “Patty.” The younger two grandchildren would eventually be adopted and raised by Mrs. Washington: Eleanor (1779–1852), nicknamed “Nelly,” and George Washington (1781–1857), known by all as “Wash” or “Tub.” Just as she had done with her own children, Martha doted on the grandchildren and drew strength from them during her husband’s long absences and throughout the strife of war. Her daughter‐in‐law and her children f­ requently stayed at Mount Vernon—an occurrence that delighted Martha, who always enjoyed having a house full of chil­ dren and neighbors (Watson, 2002). Constantly one to worry about health, Mrs. Washington was overly protective of the father of her grandchildren: Jacky, her sole remaining child. In consequence, even



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though her husband was serving as com­ mander of the colonial forces and countless young men from the region were fighting in the war, Martha would not agree to allow her son to join the war effort. The matter produced tension in the home. Finally, at the end of the conflict, Jacky joined General Washington as an aide in his camp, serving safely at his side and away from the front lines of combat. Tragically, he contracted a fever that afflicted the camp. Martha rushed to be by her son’s side, but she arrived too late. Jacky died in 1781. The First First Lady After the passing of Jacky Custis, her sole remaining child, Mrs. Washington adopted his two youngest children and raised them as her own. This was not an uncommon practice at the time, especially in families such as the Washingtons’, who had the financial means and the space available to raise the children at home. The older two  Custis children remained with their mother, who eventually remarried. Although Mrs. Washington was delighted to finally have her husband back home at Mount Vernon with the war over, the quiet retire­ ment she longed for was not to be. The vic­ torious general had emerged as the foremost man of his times. This meant that countless visitors, dignitaries, and well‐wishers came to the bustling home, which now often resembled a bed‐and‐breakfast rather than a private residence (Watson, 2002). The return to domestic life would also be short‐lived for both husband and wife, as George Washington’s services were repeat­ edly required during the 1780s. In 1787, he was chosen to return to Philadelphia to lead the gathering of the Framers at the Constitutional Convention. Less than two years later, after being elected to serve as the young republic’s first president, the general set off for New York City to take the oath of the office. Martha worried again about her

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husband’s health and the challenges facing both the new nation and its president elect. Yet she once again subordinated her personal interests to the call of public service. The Washingtons were the only presiden­ tial couple in US history not to live in the building now known as the White House. James and Dolley Madison were forced to temporarily vacate the home after the British burned the capital city in 1814 during the War of 1812, and Harry and Bess Truman also had to live elsewhere in the city during the building’s complete renovation in the late 1940s and early 1950s. However, both couples resided in the White House for at least a part of their time in office. But the capital city, now named after the country’s first president, was still being purchased, designed, and built during the time of Washington’s presidency. As a result, New York City served as a temporary capital in the earliest days of the republic. The new president elect departed for the inaugural festivities prior to his wife, who arrived later with her two grandchildren. While en route to New York City, she was surprised by the extent of public affection for her shown by large crowds, which c­ elebrated her arrival in each town with monarchical cheers of “Long live Lady Washington!” Always humble and unaffected by such accolades, the new first lady dismissed the attention by saying: “it is as if I am a very great some body” (Anthony, 1990: 43). Yet on occasion she graciously stood from her carriage and thanked the crowds. The trip to the inauguration marked possi­ bly the first time Mrs. Washington addressed a public gathering and the first time when a woman was the focus of stories in newspapers, in the colonies or in the new country. These experiences occasioned in Mrs. Washington self‐awareness and a sense that she was now a public figure. George Washington had little in the way of precedents or customs to guide him when he entered the inaugural presidency. The office was new, the ideal of a republic was

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untested, and Article II of the US Constitution said very little about the day‐ to‐day functioning of a chief executive. Therefore the new president ended up f­orging many of the customs and practices that continue to define the office to the p­ resent time. However, Mrs. Washington had even less in the way of guidelines that could assist her in determining the role of the president’s spouse and nation’s hostess. First ladyship was not an office per se, duties or responsibilities related to it were not mentioned in the constitution or during the Constitutional Convention, and the public was not sure what to expect of the new first family (Caroli, 1987). Indeed, when President Washington took the oath of office, two states had yet to ratify the consti­ tution, uncertainty was widespread about the new office and the new nation, and Mrs. Washington was still en route from Virginia. As she traveled to join her husband, Martha was filled with anxiety. She arrived in New York City on May 28, 1789. Serving the New Nation Numerous challenges awaited the first cou­ ple even before the inauguration. There were, for instance, questions as to what title should be used to address the president and his wife. The formal title for the president was still being debated up through his i­ nauguration, until George Washington settled for the simple title of “Mr. President” rather than “His Excellency,” “Your Majesty,” or another more royal moniker. Nor were the country’s citizens or visiting dignitaries sure how to address the presi­ dent’s wife (Caroli, 1987; Watson, 2000a). She would soon come to be known as “Lady Washington” or simply “Mrs. Washington,” despite the more regal p­ references of many public officials and newspapers (Fields, 1994: xxv). The term “First Lady” would not be in common use for some decades.

Meanwhile the public and official George Washington faced conflicting expectations about the proper tone for the president’s receptions and about how the Washingtons should interact with the public. In terms of protocol and accessibility of the first couple, George and Martha Washington wisely decided to balance the seemingly irreconcil­ able goals of democratic simplicity, which befitted the new republic, with the need to make sure that the nation was seen to have proper credibility in the eyes of the world. The most visible component of how the first couple and the new government would be perceived was the act of official social host­ ing. Of course, on account of sex‐role norms that remained in place for generations, domestic and social responsibilities largely fell upon women. Mrs. Washington would thus play a role in crafting the social atmos­ phere of the inaugural administration. Although she had never been to Europe, Martha had ample experience in the art of entertaining and hosting, as people from foreign capitals might expect; and she had been to formal affairs in Williamsburg. Her every action and inaction helped shape the standard to be used by all future first ladies (Watson, 2000a). A full array of social events were offered to the public, American politicians, and vis­ iting dignitaries. President Washington took out an advertisement in a New York City newspaper to announce the calling hours for individuals wanting to pay their respects to the first couple. The Washingtons made themselves available on Tuesdays and Fridays, from 2:00 to 3:00 in the afternoon. Matters of business could be brought to their attention every day, save for Sundays. A reception or “levee” for men, but hosted by both George and Martha Washington, was held every Tuesday afternoon; and Mrs. Washington presided on Fridays at evening parties of a type known as the “drawing room.” The latter was open to men and women. Both types of events were well attended and Mrs. Washington managed to



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find that elusive balance between two s­ eemingly irreconcilable objectives. These receptions were elegant, yet accessible; they offered the formality expected of a nation’s political leader but often served food p­ repared from local recipes, designed to s­atisfy the American palate (Anthony, 1990; Caroli, 1988). Initially Mrs. Washington was not con­ sulted about social arrangements and about the calendar. The details were organized even before she arrived in New York City for the inauguration, having been decided by one of the president’s secretaries who had visited Europe. However, it was the first lady who set the tone and presided over the affairs. All manner of social issues remained before Martha, even the most mundane. At the end of her first event, it became appar­ ent that no one knew how such events would formally conclude or how guests would take their leave from the first couple. However, Martha stood up and established a new custom: she would exit first. The first lady announced to all who gathered: “The General always retires at nine, and I gener­ ally precede him.” She then promptly walked out of the room (Fields, 1994: xxvi). Her duties started immediately. On her first full morning in the city, Mrs. Washington was met by dozens of curious women gath­ ered in carriages, who were hoping to see her at the temporary Cherry Street home. The very next day she hosted her first formal social reception. Once again, many people came to get a glimpse of her sitting in her high‐backed chair to greet the new r­epublic’s citizens. She also tried to return all social calls within three days, a custom whereby prominent women would visit and leave a “calling card.” It was proper for the recipi­ ent to return the gesture in a timely manner (Anthony, 1990). While Martha played a critical role in the social sphere of the presidency, the same does not appear to be true in matters of pol­ itics. She supported her husband’s federalist policies but does not seem to have tried to

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shape them or to have engaged others in  political discussions. Nonetheless, she remained very popular among veterans from the Revolutionary War. Her husband’s f­ormer soldiers often visited her and she was known to advocate on their behalf, even interceding to help them gain employment or providing money when they were in need. In their free time, the first couple attended church, hosted friends at their private resi­ dence, and enjoyed carriage rides with their grandchildren Nelly and Wash. Yet there never seemed to be enough free time to suit either of them. It was a busy and challeng­ ing eight years. Mrs. Washington estimated: “I have not had one half hour to myself since the day of my arrival” (quoted in Fields, 1994: xxvi). She also felt constrained in that, every time she went out in public, people recognized her and newspapers reported on everything, from her shopping to her grandchildren. Because the first lady was an intensely private individual, she felt burdened by the onslaught of attention, such as when she complained: I am more like a state prisoner than a­nything else, there is certain bounds [sic] set for me which I must not depart from— and as I can not doe as I like I am obstinate and stay at home a great deal. (Brady, 1996: 9–10)

Another challenge facing the first lady was her husband’s health. George Washington was in his late fifties and early sixties during their presidential years, an advanced age at the time. Martha described her feelings when her husband was elected by saying: “I think it was much too late for him to go in to publick life again” (Brady, 1996: 8). Even though he was a robust man, Washington did have health problems during his presidency. Always one to be c­oncerned about illness, Martha Washington worried that she would lose her husband. Such was the case when he had surgery to remove a growth from his left leg that

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doctors worried might be cancerous. Martha did everything possible to calm her husband and to ensure his full recovery; she even c­ ordoned off parts of nearby streets and placed straw on the road in front of the president’s home in order to quiet the hooves of horses and the wheels of passing carriages. Mrs. Washington did not enjoy serving as first lady. She found the rules governing social protocol to be stifling at best. She even referred to the social events of the presidency as “empty ceremonies of mere etiquette” (Anthony, 1990: 42). She con­ fided in a dear friend that she was now too old and uninterested in the “innocent gaie­ ties of life” in the capital city, and had “long since placed all the prospects of my future worldly happiness in the still enjoyments of the fireside at Mount Vernon” (Fields, 1994: xxvii). Indeed Martha saw her efforts as more of a duty than a choice, let alone a manifestation of her passion. And, telling a friend about her experience as first lady, she said that, although the position was not entirely “a burden,” I am only fond of what comes from the heart … [and] sometimes think the arrangement is not quite as it ought to have been; that I, who had much rather be at home, should occupy a place which a great many younger and gayer women would be prodigiously pleased. (Fields, 1994: 224)

Martha also felt lonely in New York City because she did not have many close friends there. The situation improved for her when the capital was relocated to Philadelphia in the fall of 1790. The Washingtons made the move and lived in a home on Market Street. It was there that Mrs. Washington helped initiate another custom. Soon after moving to Philadelphia, she opened her home to the public for a grand New Year’s Day reception with food and beverages. She also welcomed guests on Christmas Day. The practice of the first family hosting an open reception on

each New Year’s Day lasted until Herbert Hoover—who, bitter from his loss to Franklin D. Roosevelt in the 1932 election and with the country in the grips of the Great Depression, cancelled the event in January 1933. Given the long struggle with economic recovery and World War II, which followed, President Roosevelt did not revive the custom. Philadelphia was much more to Mrs. Washington’s liking. Not only was it some­ what closer to Mount Vernon, but she had several good friends in the city, including the mayor and his wife. The remainder of her husband’s time in office was thus made far more pleasant. Her life in Philadelphia was also made more bearable by the nine enslaved African servants in their house­ hold, as well as by a number of German indentured servants who replaced some of the slaves, in keeping with norms in the abolitionist Quaker city. This was a tricky issue for the Washingtons, since Philadelphia required slaves to be freed after six months of residence, and Martha was compelled to keep theirs moving back and forth to Mount Vernon to avoid the mandatory manumission. But in this northern city some of them escaped, including her per­ sonal maid Oney Judge, much to the first lady’s dismay. With George Washington’s reelection in 1792, Martha once again had to put duty before personal interest, though her hope had always been “to grow old in solitude and tranquility together” (Brady, 1996: 8). Throughout the eight years of her husband’s presidency she remained popular and was perhaps even more beloved than during the revolutionary period. She received a steady stream of well‐wishers and “fans,” and was arguably the most well‐known and admired woman in the country. Even the critical Abigail Adams was struck, comparing Mrs. Washington most favorably to the British monarchy: “[I was] much more deeply impressed than I ever [was] before their Majesties of Britain” (Fields, 1994: xix).



m a rt h a wa s h i n g t o n

Worthy Partner After her husband’s second term as president ended in 1797, Mrs. Washington was pleased to finally be back home in Virginia and fin­ ished with public life. She noted her joy at being home in one letter, saying: “We once more (and I am very sure never to quit it again) got seated under our own Roof, more like new beginners than old e­stablished resi­ denters” (Brady, 1996: 12). However, her wish for privacy and domestic tranquility was once again interrupted, this time by the neces­ sity of greeting and hosting the large crowds of visitors who traveled to Mount Vernon to see the famous Washingtons or to pay their regards. Many of these well‐wishers expected to be entertained, fed, and even housed, and Martha found herself again serving as host. The Washingtons noted in a letter that they had not dined alone since 1785 (Brady, 1996: 13)! Late in life even the retired president seems to have tired of the constant onslaught of visitors, complaining: “Unless someone pops in unexpectedly, Mrs. Washington and I will do what has not been (done) by us in nearly 20 years— that is set down to dinner by ourselves” (Fields, 1994: xxv). Among the visitors were politicians, gen­ erals, and dignitaries from Europe such as the Marquis de Lafayette, who had devel­ oped a close friendship with the president during the American Revolution. The new president and first lady, John and Abigail Adams, were guests of the Washingtons, as were James and Dolley Madison. Martha graciously hosted a veritable “who’s who” of the era at Mount Vernon (Anthony, 1990; Watson, 2000a). She also found h­erself overwhelmed by the amount of mail she received and was awarded by Congress the franking privilege of free mailing in order to cover the cost of correspondence. Their four‐decade‐long partnership came to an end on December 14, 1799, less than three years after George Washington had left office, when he died after catching

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pneumonia while riding on an inspection of his farms in chilly, wet weather. After losing her husband, Martha found herself faced with requests from public officials to have the president’s remains interned at the United States Capitol Building. She was not pleased, as she wanted him buried at the estate where they had spent their lives together. She painfully understood that they both belonged to the public. Happily, her wishes were ultimately honored and both George and Martha Washington were placed to rest at Mount Vernon. The Washingtons were the first in what would become a long line of influential and active presidential couples. Although Mrs. Washington was a private person who longed for a quiet home life with her family, the demands of public life continually tested her sense of duty. As she noted in her c­orrespondence, throughout her long years of service she would “much rather be at home.” The nation’s first first lady even referred to those challenging presidential years as her “lost days” (Watson, 2000a: 38). Yet throughout it all she served loyally and with great grace and dignity, on account of her devotion to her husband and her strong sense of duty. One of her former slaves at Mount Vernon remembered her in these words: “The General was only a man, but Mrs. Washington was perfect” (Fields, 1994: xix). She also remained remarkably humble and unaffected by fame. Abigail Adams once described her as follows: Mrs. Washington is one of those unassuming characters which create Love & Esteem. A most becoming pleasantness sits upon her countenance & an unaffected deport­ ment which renders her the object of veneration & Respect. (Brady, 1996: 10)

Martha Washington lived for two and a half years beyond her husband’s passing. The grief of losing him greatly impacted her and she never again stepped foot in the

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b­edroom they shared at Mount Vernon. She moved instead to a small room in the build­ ing for the remainder of her days. The widow did draw comfort, as she always had, from having her grandchildren around and from receiving many friends at the home. She also accommodated the requests from crowds of visitors who came to Mount Vernon to pay their respects to the late, much beloved president. On occasion, she even clipped from one of her husband’s l­etters his signature and gave it to her guests, as a souvenir from the “Father of His Country.” Within a year of his death, in accordance with his wishes, she freed all of her husband’s slaves, but none of her own; these she handed down to her children. Mrs. Washington’s obituary in one n­ewspaper described her as a “worthy part­ ner” for the foremost man of his times. Indeed the military commander Baron von Steuben wrote of her: “She reminded me of the Roman matrons of whom I had read so much, I thought that she well deserved to be the companion and friend of the greatest man of the age” (Field, 1994: xxiv). She passed away quietly at home on May 22, 1802 of a “severe fever.” She was seventy years of age. Lady Washington remains an iconic figure. She has been depicted in books, paintings, and engravings, and was the first woman in American history to appear on a postage stamp and, in the nineteenth century, on the country’s currency—when her image graced the one‐dollar silver certificate in 1886. While still obscure to many, Martha Washington remains one of the most admired women in American history (Watson, 2000a). Her status as an iconic figure and heroine of American history has been secured. Scholarship on Martha Washington Serious scholarship on the first ladies is a relatively recent phenomenon. Not until the 1980s and 1990s did books appear that examined the roles and duties as well as the challenges and contributions of the wives of

presidents (Watson, 2000a). These books include important early works by Carl Sferrazza Anthony (1990) and Betty Caroli (1987) and an edited collection of essays from Lewis L. Gould, titled American First Ladies: Their Lives and Their Legacy (Gould, 1996). In the 2000s scholarly research on the first ladies began to appear at academic conferences, as the topic of doctoral disser­ tations, and in academic journals. As a result, the field of study has matured and it is now recognized as worthy of study and as part of a subfield within such academic areas as presidency studies, political science, US h­istory, women’s studies, and others. Helping to both facilitate and promote the study of the first ladies, most presidential libraries have organized and made available their first ladies’ public papers and White House social files. Relatedly, the National First Ladies’ Library opened in Ohio. Another critical element in this study is that biographies have been published on most of the first ladies, including a series of books edited by Gould and another by Robert P. Watson. Scholars have also collected and edited the papers of first ladies. An invaluable con­ tribution to the study of Martha Washington’s life and public service was made by Joseph Fields, who organized and published all of Mrs. Washington’s s­urviving letters in 1994. Yet, despite these developments in the study of first ladies, the first first lady has received surprisingly little attention. Indeed she remains a relatively enigmatic figure and few books or articles have been written about her, although of late new ones are appearing, as noted below. Moreover, Mrs. Washington’s identity remains largely tied to that of her husband’s (Watson, 2000a). Whether because George Washington was the foremost man of his momentous times, or on account of the sparse documentation that remains about her, or because historians have inadvertently p­ romoted the image of Washington as a self‐made man—in the words of Joseph Ellis (2005: 38), “Washington could only rely on the hard core of his own merit”— the result is that Martha Washington is rarely distinctly



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remembered. Yet she was the source for much of her husband’s success—financially, socially, and politically; and her contributions to his achievements were significant. Her own accomplishments and role as an individual apart from the great president call out for greater study. This situation is often true of first ladies who served prior to the twentieth century, with the possible e­ xception of Abigail Adams, Dolley Madison, and Mary Todd Lincoln. Given the status of George Washington and the enduring interest in him, it would seem that more attention would have been placed on Mrs. Washington than has been the case. There are, however, a few new studies that have recently appeared on her life, notably those of Helen Bryan (2002) and Patricia Brady (2006). Bryan’s focus is on Martha’s years as first lady. Although Brady explores her full life, the book’s schol­ arly apparatus is limited. Scholars have weighed in Mrs. Washington and their polls, as well as popular ones that attempt to rate or rank first ladies, consistently place her as one of the most admired and best first ladies in US history. Yet elsewhere she is often portrayed simply as a grandmotherly hostess or solely as the wife of the first president. However, as this chapter has suggested, she was a vastly more intriguing and complex woman than she is usually presented to have been, and a definitive, scholarly biography on her life remains to be written.

References Amory, J. K. 2004. “George Washington’s Infertility: Why Was the Father of Our Country Never a Father.” Fertility and Sterility 81 (3): 495–499. Anthony, C. S. 1990. First Ladies: The Saga of the Presidents’ Wives and their Power. New York: William Morrow. Brady, P. 1996. “Martha Washington.” In American First Ladies: Their Lives and Their Legacy, edited by L. L. Gould, 2–15. New York: Garland. Brady, P. 2006. Martha Washington: An American Life. New York: Penguin.

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Bryan, H. 2002. Martha Washington: First Lady of Liberty. New York: John Wiley & Sons. Caroli, B. B. 1987. First Ladies: An Intimate Look at How 36 Women Handled What May be the Most Demanding, Unpaid, Unelected Job in America. New York: Oxford University Press. Ellis, J. J. 2005. His Excellency: George Washington. New York: Vintage Books. Fields, J., ed. 1994. Worthy Partner: The Papers of Martha Washington. Westport, CT: Greenwood. Farr, J. E. 2012. “The Unlikely Success of a Provincial Surveyor: George Washington Finds Fame in the American Frontier.” In A Companion to George Washington, edited by E. G. Lengel, 15–31. Oxford: Wiley Blakwell. Gould, L. L. 1996. American First Ladies: Their Lives and Their Legacy. New York: Garland. Randall, W. S. 1997. George Washington: A Life. New York: Henry Holt. Watson, Robert, P. 2002. “Martha Washington.” In American First Ladies, edited by R. P. Watson, 9–18. Pasadena, CA: Salem Press. Watson, R. P. 2000a. The Presidents’ Wives: Reassessing the Office of First Lady. Boulder, CO: Lynne Rienner. Watson, R. P. 2000b. “Remembering Martha (The Legacy of Lady Washington).” Organi­ zation of American Historians’ Magazine of History 14 (2): 54–57.

Further Reading Abbott, W. W., ed. 1987–. The Papers of George Washington. Charlottesville: University of Virginia Press. Beaumong, H. F. 1902. “Dandridge: The Namesake of Martha Washington.” Tennessee Historical Society Quarterly 7 (3): 274–280. Eberlein, H. D. 1919. “Martha Washington’s Gardens.” Art & Life 11 (1): 14–20. Heintze, J. R. 1970. “Music of the Washington Family: A Little‐Known Collection.” The Musical Quarterly 56 (2): 288–293. Jackson, D., ed. 1876–1979. The Papers of George Washington, Diaries. Charlottesville: University of Virginia Press. Unger, H. G. 2006. The Unexpected George Washington: His Private Life. New York: John Wiley & Sons. Wylie, J. C. 1903. “Mrs. Washington’s ‘Book of Cookery.’” The Pennsylvania Magazine of History and Biography 27 (4): 436–440.

Chapter Two

Abigail Adams: The Life and the Biographers* Margaret A. Hogan

In the summer of 1777, John Adams wisely commented to his wife, Abigail: I think I have sometimes observed to you in Conversation, that upon examining the Biography of illustrious Men, you will g­enerally find some Female about them in the Relation of Mother or Wife or Sister, to whose Instigation, a great Part of their Merit is to be ascribed. (Butterfield et al., 1963–2013, 2: 306)

Like many first ladies, Abigail Adams c­ertainly fits this description. She was a key adviser to John, especially during his presidential term; in fact political opponents sometimes d­isparagingly described the “Old Woman” as John’s co‐president. But, while Abigail has been best known as the wife of one p­resident and the mother of another, her influence actually extended well beyond those immedi­ ate connections, through p­ ersonal contact and especially through her letters, thousands of which have survived down to the present day. Her writings reveal her to be a thought­ ful critic and insightful observer of the world around her. They also show her to be a woman of great emotional capacity eloquently

facing extraordinary personal changes at a pivotal moment in American history. Since Abigail’s death in 1818, biographers have found her a fascinating if sometimes contradictory character. Some authors have struggled to disentangle her life from that of her husband—whose public presence natu­ rally far outstripped her own—while others have seen fit to notice her only in relation to the man she married and supported for over fifty years. Others, seeking to emphasize her interest in women’s rights, wrestle with her as an essentially private figure, committed to the domestic sphere. Historians have yet to come to a clear consensus regarding Abigail’s significance in American history, but all seem to agree that the joy of reading her corre­ spondence makes the attempt to understand her a uniquely compelling project. “The Best of Women”: The Life of Abigail Abigail Smith was born in 1744 into a com­ fortable household, as the daughter of William Smith, the pastor of the first church

*NOTE Portions of this chapter were p­reviously published in A Companion to John Adams and John Quincy Adams, edited by David Waldstreicher. © 2013 John Wiley & Sons, Ltd. Published 2013 by John Wiley & Sons, Ltd. A Companion to First Ladies, First Edition. Edited by Katherine A. S. Sibley. © 2016 John Wiley & Sons, Inc. Published 2016 by John Wiley & Sons, Inc.



abigail adams: the life and the biographers

of Weymouth, Massachusetts, and his wife, Elizabeth Quincy, a descendant of one of the leading families of the commonwealth. The second of four children, Abigail, along with her two sisters, received no formal e­ducation outside the home. Nonetheless, she was in many ways extraordinarily well educated for a woman of her time. She had access to impressive collections of books, particularly at her grandfather John Quincy’s home, Mount Wollaston, which contained what was widely believed to be one of the finest libraries in eastern Massachusetts. She received encouragement to read widely and regularly, and she had the opportunity to participate in wide‐ranging conversations at her father’s home, the Weymouth parsonage. She taught herself how to read French and proved comfortable with basic mathematics, though she never quite mastered spelling or punctuation. She told her son Thomas Boylston in 1803: “as to points & comma’s [sic], I was not taught them in my youth, and I always intend my meaning shall be so obvious as that my readers shall know where they ought to stop” (January 27, 1803 = Massachusetts Historical Society [henceforth MHi], Adams Family Papers). Despite such limitations, Abigail eventually proved herself equal to far better educated people, demon­ strating her literacy by quoting from a wide array of authors and by showing a capacity for letter writing second to none in her time. Without question the most significant fig­ ure in her life was John Adams, her husband. They met for the first time in the summer of 1759 at her father’s home; John had accom­ panied there his best friend Richard Cranch, who in turn was courting Mary, Abigail’s older sister. Their first encounter was not auspicious: John described Abigail in his diary as “Not fond, not frank, not candid,” meaning she was too outspoken and lacked the “Tenderness” he sought in a female companion (Butterfield, Faber, and Garrett, 1961, 1: 108, 109). She was not yet fifteen; he was twenty‐three, an aspiring lawyer, and perhaps she teased him about his pompous

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manner or some other foible. When exactly the relationship warmed is not clear, but by 1762 John was addressing Abigail as “Miss Adorable” and ordering “as many Kisses, and as many Hours of your Company after 9  O’Clock as he shall please to Demand” (Butterfield et al., 1963–2013, 1: 2). They married in October 1764. Over the next several years Abigail bore five children—Abigail (Nabby, 1765–1813), John Quincy (1767–1848), Susanna (1768–1770), Charles (1770–1800), and Thomas Boylston (1772–1832)—while John c­ontinued to build his legal career and launched a political one. They divided their time between Boston and John’s home town of Braintree, though John spent much of each year away, riding the circuits to practice law at courthouses throughout Massachusetts and Maine. Well before John left to begin his great national service in the Continental Congress, Abigail had already begun to learn to manage a household on her own. Despite this previous experience of sepa­ ration, the Adamses’ lives were changed dramatically by the Revolution. John’s departure for Philadelphia and the First Continental Congress in 1774 marked the beginning of a full decade in which he and Abigail were only together for brief periods at a time, and not at all for the final five years of that stretch. Abigail became fully respon­ sible for the education of her four surviving children and the management of the house­ hold, its servants and tenants, and the assorted pieces of property John had acquired. Abigail took to these tasks with some trepidation—she told John at one point: “I really am cumberd about many things and scarcly know which way to turn my‐self. I miss my partner, and find myself uneaquil to the cares which fall upon me; I find it necessary to be the directress of our Husbandery and farming”—but she proved herself an able “Farmeress.” Likewise, she reported: “With regard to the Education for my own children, I find myself soon out of my depth, and destitute and deficient in

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every part of Education” (Butterfield et al., 1963–2013, 1: 375, 420; 2: 94). These reservations notwithstanding, Abigail fully believed in the importance of education for her children—her daughter in particular, but also her sons—and did her best to offer all of them the schooling she herself had been denied. She encouraged John to develop “some more liberal plan … for the Benefit of the rising Generation” to support education. “If we mean to have Heroes, Statesmen and Philosophers,” she wrote, “we should have learned women. … If much depends as is allowed upon the early Education of youth and the first prin­ cipals which are instilld take the deepest root, great benifit must arise from litirary accomplishments in women” (Butterfield et  al., 1963–2013, 2: 94). Whenever possi­ ble, Abigail found tutors or schools for the c­hildren to attend, but, given the uncertainty of the time, much instruction she handled on her own. The French she had learned earlier she passed along to her c­hildren. John wrote on one occasion to ask that Abigail teach all the children “Geometry, Geography, and the Art of drawing. … No doubt you are well qualified for a school Mistress in these Studies.” On another, he reminded her “to compose Descriptions of Scænes and Objects, and Narrations of Facts and Events, Declamations upon Topicks, and other Exer­ cises of various sorts” to give to their offspring. John had confidence in  Abigail’s abilities even if Abigail was u­ ncertain (Butterfield et al., 1963–2013, 1: 285–286; 2: 40). Abigail also turned her deft touch to household management, and especially to the matter of the family finances. Far better suited than her husband to developing what financial resources they had—John never came across a piece of property he would not want to own, no matter how useless it might be—Abigail found ways to invest their money profitably, giving the family far greater security than it might otherwise have known. When John was abroad in Europe, she arranged for him to ship her

goods, which she in turn resold for a profit. She invested her extra cash in securities that yielded impressive returns, and she negotiated advantageous contracts with tenants and farmhands. She described debts as “my abhor­ rance. I never will borrow if any other method can be devised,” and she kept the family solvent despite economic turmoil and the reluctance of the confederation government to pay John’s salary and expenses in a timely fashion (Butterfield et al., 1963–2013, 3: 61). Abigail’s life was deeply shaped by the Revolution. Not only did her husband’s ser­ vice as a politician and diplomat leave her a single parent for long stretches of time, but the conflict put her directly in the middle of the first year of the war. The siege of Boston limited Abigail’s access to the main port in her region, and she routinely encountered soldiers marching past her home en route to encampments outside the city. She noted to John: “We live in continual expectation of allarms. Courage I know we have in abun­ dance, conduct I hope we shall not want, but powder—where shall we get a sufficient supply? … Every Town is fill’d with the ­distressd inhabitants of Boston” (Butterfield et al., 1963–2013, 1: 217). She watched the Battle of Bunker Hill with her son John Quincy from the top of Penn’s Hill, near her home; her letter to John describing it was the first report on the battle to reach Philadelphia. When the British army finally evacuated Boston in March 1776, Abigail expressed her relief, but also her fear for the broader Revolution: Tho we felicitate ourselves, we sympathize with those who are trembling least the Lot of Boston should be theirs. But they cannot be in similar circumstances unless pusi­ lanimity and cowardise should take posses­ sion of them. They have time and warning given them to see the Evil and shun it. (Butterfield et al., 1963–2013, 1: 370)

In this vein, she lacked confidence that the slaveowning South would stand up to the British in the way Massachusetts had.



abigail adams: the life and the biographers

John’s service in the Continental Congress ended in 1777, but he was home only briefly before receiving the call for dip­ lomatic work in Europe. John’s time abroad, beginning in 1778 and continuing until 1788 with only a brief return home in 1779–1780, presented new challenges for Abigail. They were separated by a far greater distance and for a longer continuous period than ever before. His appointment removed from Abigail’s care her eldest son, and for a time her second son as well. And those sepa­ rations could not be relieved through regu­ lar correspondence of the kind that had sustained Abigail during their earlier periods apart. She reported receiving only two short letters from John during the first five months of his absence in 1778, and the pace of these communications improved only marginally over the following years. “You could not have sufferd more upon your Voyage,” she told John, “than I have felt cut of from all communication with you. My Harp has been hung upon the willows, and I have scarcly ever taken my pen to write but the tears have flowed faster than the Ink” (Butterfield et al., 1963–2013, 3: 108–109). Still, Abigail persevered, handling the household and the farm with little input from John, embracing economic opportuni­ ties to shore up the family’s precarious finances, continuing to oversee her c­ hildren’s education, and even navigating the tricky shoals of Nabby’s first serious courtship. Late in 1783, with the war over, after considerable back and forth on the subject, Abigail and John finally reached an agree­ ment that she would come over and join him in Europe. She decided to bring their daughter, Nabby, as well (Charles and Thomas Boylston would continue their edu­ cation with Abigail’s sister Elizabeth and her husband, John Shaw), and the two of them arrived in England in the summer of 1784. Abigail found the voyage ­unpleasant—she believed that “[a] Lady cannot help being an odious creature at sea”—but, in usual

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fashion, improved the situation as best she could by demanding that the sailors clean the boat from stem to stern and by instruct­ ing the cook in better preparation of the meals (Butterfield et al., 1963–2013, 3: 242). John Quincy met them in London, and John himself joined them shortly there­ after, reuniting the couple after five years’ separation. The Adamses spent their first nine months in France, then moved on to London in mid‐1785, after John was named US minis­ ter to Britain. Abigail had been somewhat reluctant to come to Europe at all, fearful that she would make an “awkward figure” in European diplomatic circles, but she proved more than capable of managing her social duties. Initially mystified by the extravagance of Parisian life—the home they rented in Auteuil had scores of rooms, a far cry from their small saltbox cottage in  Braintree—she eventually found it c­ommonplace. Writing to her sister Mary, Abigail sheepishly admitted: “I have found my taste reconciling itself to habits customs and fashions, which at first disgusted me. The first dance which I saw upon the Stage shoked me,” but “seeing these Dances has worn of that disgust which I first felt, and that I see them now with pleasure” (Butterfield et al., 1963–2013, 5: 280; 6: 67). When the time came to leave France, Abigail expressed sadness at leaving. England felt perhaps more familiar but carried great challenges, too, as Abigail would now be the wife of a resident minis­ ter, the first such appointee by the United States since the Revolution. She endured the tedious rituals of court etiquette, includ­ ing standing up for four hours while she waited to be presented to the royal family and other uncomfortable situations caused by lingering animosity toward all things American. But she also came to appreciate the “mother country,” enjoying a pleasant routine of social calls, garden walks with Nabby, and theater performances and ­concerts. Together, she and John explored

24

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the English countryside and visited the Netherlands for several weeks, and Abigail and Nabby traveled to Bath along with William Stephens Smith, Nabby’s new h­usband, to see that noted vacation spot. While abroad, Abigail continued to have pri­ mary responsibility for the family finances— a real trial given the high costs of living and the meager salary provided by Congress. Abigail and John returned together to the United States in 1788. John paid lip ser­ vice to retirement but neither Abigail nor most others were fooled into believing that this was truly the end of his public career. Only a few months after the couple settled into their new home in Braintree, the for­ mer Vassall‐Borland estate (later called Peacefield or the Old House, and now owned by the Adams National Historical Park), John learned that he was to be elected the first vice president under the new consti­ tution. Thus began twelve more years of service in the federal government, and they introduced yet another new pattern into the Adamses’ lives. Until 1792 the couple traveled together to wherever the federal government was then sitting for congres­ sional sessions and returned together to Braintree each summer. But illness in 1792 kept Abigail from joining John in Philadelphia that year, and she remained in what was now the town of Quincy (having separated from Braintree in 1792) until 1797 and John’s election to the presidency. During his presidency Abigail once more entered society, embracing the role of first lady despite her considerable fears that she would be a poor substitute for the much esteemed Martha Washington. Never lacking in political opinions, Abigail served as John’s unofficial adviser during his tenure in the federal government, and especially during his presidency. This was not a new role for her—she is justifiably famous for urging John to “Remember the Ladies” and for raising the issue of women’s place in the new plan of government in 1776—but it carried more weight, given

John’s greater power as the chief executive of the nation. She read the newspapers faith­ fully (despite her distaste for their highly partisan nature), kept herself well informed on the issues of the day, and offered John her insights. She urged him, for example, to support the Alien and Sedition Acts, outlin­ ing her thoughts in a letter to her sister: I wish the Laws of our Country were com­ petant to punish the stirer up of sedition, the writer and Printer of base and unfounded calumny. This would contrib­ ute as much to the Peace and harmony of our Country as any measure, and in times like the present, a more carefull and atten­ tive watch ought to be kept over foreign­ ers. This will be done in future if the Alien Bill passes, without being curtaild & clipt untill it is made nearly useless. (Mitchell, 1947: 179)

She likewise critiqued John’s speeches, suggesting ways to clarify ideas or improve sentences. Her role was well known, and some office seekers approached Abigail rather than John in search of posts. Abigail even involved herself in John’s famed “mid­ night” judicial appointments, demanding, in her last letter to him, “to see the list of judges” (Hogan and Taylor, 2007: 476). Abigail was, if anything, far less forgiving than John of political attacks, and c­onsequently found the increasing vitriol of federal politics difficult to stomach. She wrote to John in January 1796: “The Scripture tells us that we must pray for our Enemies, but it does not say that we must pray, that they may not be punished accord­ ing to their deserts”—and lamented to her nephew William Cranch: “The callumny [that] issues unmolessted and almost uncen­ sured from so many of our Presses upon some of the wisest ablest and most virtuous Characters is a very great disgrace to our National Character” (Hogan and Taylor, 2007: 400; December 3, 1797 = MHi, Adams Family Papers). She found it especially difficult to forgive Thomas Jefferson, at one



abigail adams: the life and the biographers

time a close friend, for what she considered a personal betrayal. “How different is the Situation of the President from that of Washington?” Abigail asked rhetorically of  her cousin William Smith. “The vice‐­ president never combined with a party against [Washington], and his administra­ tion, he never intrigued with foreign Ministers or foreign courts against his own Government & country” (March 24, 1798 = MHi, Smith–Carter Papers). By the time John had lost the election of 1800 and had come to the end of his political career, Abigail was equally ready to leave the strains of public life behind. Her own health had been precarious for some years (she only spent about half of John’s presidency with him in Philadelphia and Washington) and quiet seclusion in Quincy held great appeal. In one of his last letters to Abigail, John thanked her for coming down to join him in Washington, DC, where he would soon be turned out of office. He noted: “it is fit and proper that you and I should retire together and not one before the other” (Hogan and Taylor, 2007: 473). He spoke correctly. The retirement was not his alone, though his life would change far more than Abigail’s would. It was a retirement for both of them, and Abigail would have to adjust accordingly. She retreated to Quincy a few weeks before John, and they spent nearly all of their remaining years together in residence there. Over the next seventeen years, Abigail faced an array of difficulties. Her son Charles had died of alcoholism in 1800, and her daughter, Nabby, would succumb to breast cancer in 1813, after several long years of suffering with the disease, including under­ going a grueling double mastectomy at her parents’ home in Quincy. Both of Abigail’s sisters predeceased her. A bank failure in 1803 put the Adamses’ financial well‐being in jeopardy, and they were rescued only by contributions from John Quincy. Abigail endured a variety of illnesses, though she always seemed to bounce back.

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Despite these sorrows and the growing infirmity, retirement offered many blessings. She was frequently surrounded by grand­ children and put as much energy into raising them (sometimes against the wishes of their parents) as she had with her own children. Abigail also found more opportunity for reflection. She had once lamented, in 1776, at the height of the Revolution and during one of the busiest periods of her life in terms of family responsibilities: “I always had a fancy for a closet with a window which I could most peculiarly call my own” (Butterfield et al., 1963–2013, 2: 112). Thirty years on, she had that space—and the time to enjoy it. Her correspondence with John was at an end, but she continued to write to many others, hundreds of letters to her children and grandchildren, her sister Elizabeth, and numerous friends and family. She played no part in John’s mission to p­ reserve the family papers but happily c­ontinued to add to the trove. When Abigail died of typhoid fever on October 28, 1818, she was surrounded by family, friends, and of course John. He reported to John Quincy: “The bitterness of Death is past. The grim Spector so terrible to human Nature has no sting left for me.” He was consoled by “the sympathy and Benevolence of all the World” and believed that this “Seperation cannot be so long as twenty Seperations heretofore” (Hogan and Taylor, 2007: 479). Although he lived nearly another eight years, he was ready to join his beloved partner, who had gone before. “My Pen Is My Only Pleasure”: Abigail’s Letters All biographies of Abigail Adams begin and end with her correspondence. Although she was the wife of a founder, first lady of the United States, and mother of another presi­ dent, her greatest legacy has always been her writings. As one of the premier—arguably

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the best—American letter writers of the eighteenth century, she left a tremendous trove of correspondence, which showed her to be a thoughtful and incisive observer of the world around her. The letters also reveal many of her private thoughts and activities. John recognized his wife’s facility as a letter writer, commenting to François Adrian Van der Kemp in 1809: It is a little remarkable that you never heard the Litterary Character of my Consort. There have been few Ladies in the World of a more correct or elegant Taste. A Collection of her Letters for the forty five Years that We have been married would be worth ten times more than Madame Sevignés, though not so perfectly measured in Syllables and Letters: and would or a[t] least ought to put to the Blush Lady Mary Wortly Montague and all her Admirers. (Butterfield et al., 1963–2013: 1: xxxii)

Abigail herself found great solace in her letter writing. She noted to John: “There are perticuliar times when I feel such an uneasi­ ness, such a restlessness, as neither company, Books, family Cares or any other thing will remove, my Pen is my only pleasure, and writing to you the composure of my mind” (Butterfield et al., 1963–2013: 2: 133). One of the great legacies John Adams left to his children and to the succeeding gen­ erations was the dictate to save the family’s papers: “Whatever you write preserve,” he implored his grandsons in 1815 (to George Washington Adams and John Adams 2nd, May 3, 1815 = MHi, Adams Family Papers). And the family for the most part complied. Members of the family dutifully saved their papers, adding to the collection with each generation. John himself began the work of organizing them, first in order to better respond to perceived political slights in h­istories of the Revolution and later for the benefit of posterity. He carefully docketed letters in his increasingly shaky handwriting, reporting to his son John Quincy in

December 1818, a mere month after Abigail’s death: Your favour of the 14th. found me deeply immersed in researches … after old Papers. … Every scrap shall be found and preserved for your Affliction [or] for your good. … I shall leave you an inheritance sufficiently tormenting, for example, The huge Pile of family Letters, will make you Alternatly laugh and cry, fret and fume, stamp and scold as they do me. (December 24, 1818 = MHi, Adams Family Papers)

Ironically, Abigail did not share John’s enthusiasm for saving their correspondence. She in fact begged him on more than one occasion to destroy her letters, out of embarrassment at her poor handwriting and spelling, or out of concern that she  had written too frankly and that, in the wrong hands, her letters could become ammuni­ tion for John’s enemies. Fortunately John refused to comply. He wrote to Abigail on one occasion: “The Conclusion of your Letter makes my Heart throb, more than a Cannonade would. You bid me burn your Letters. But I must forget you first” (Butterfield et al., 1963–2013, 1: 400). Abigail no doubt appreciated the sentiment, but it did not stop her from repeating the request in future correspondence. She was likewise horrified by the prospect of her l­ etters being published. To a friend who suggested the possibility, she exhorted: “No. No. I have not any ambition to appear in print. Heedless and inaccurate as I am, I have too much vanity to risk my reputation before the public” (Adams, 1848: lix). The first attempt to document Adams’s life was made by her grandson Charles Francis Adams. The only son of John Quincy and Louisa Catherine Adams to survive into later adulthood, Charles Francis assumed the role of family historian, taking over from his father responsibility for organizing the family’s papers and beginning the long‐term process of editing them for publication.



abigail adams: the life and the biographers

His initial effort in this direction appeared in 1840, with the publication of Letters of Mrs. Adams, the Wife of John Adams, which subsequently appeared in three revised e­ditions over the next eight years (Adams, 1848). In these books Charles Francis p­resented scores of Abigail’s letters dating from 1761 to 1816. A large percentage of the correspondence was Abigail’s to John, though Charles Francis also included ones to children, friends, and other family m­ embers such as Abigail’s sisters, Mary Smith Cranch and Elizabeth Smith Shaw Peabody. While thoughtfully including l­etters from a large range of periods and on a wide variety of topics so as to demonstrate the breadth of Abigail’s interests, Charles Frances unfortunately also edited these d­ ocuments with a heavy hand, silently redacting large portions that referenced matters of health, personal finance, and other topics he deemed inappropriate. Nonetheless, his edition was for many years the only version of Abigail Adams’s letters that was available to the public; it conse­ quently provided a first glimpse into her extraordinary skills as a correspondent and heavily influenced her early biographers. In his introduction to these volumes, Charles Francis recognized that Abigail’s letters provide a counterpoint to more tradi­ tional papers documenting the American Revolution: The heroism of the females of the Revolution has gone from memory with the generation that witnessed it, and nothing, absolutely nothing, remains upon the ear of the young of the present day, but the faint echo of an expiring general tradition. … It is the purpose of this volume to c­ontribute something to supply the deficiency, by g­ iving to tradition a palpable form. The p­resent is believed to be the first attempt, in the United States, to lay before the public a series of private letters, written without the remotest idea of publication, by a woman, to her husband, and others of her nearest and dearest relations. Their greatest value

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consists in the fact, susceptible of no m­isconception, that they furnish an exact transcript of the feelings of the writer, in times of no ordinary trial. (Adams, 1848: xx–xxi)

He hoped to use Abigail’s correspondence to provide a history of “feeling” rather than of action during the Revolution (xviii). Charles Francis subsequently moved on to the writings of his father and grandfather but returned to Abigail’s letters in 1876, when he prepared Familiar Letters of John Adams and His Wife, to mark the centennial of American independence (see Adams, 1876). This collection, focused explicitly on the revolutionary years, includes letters between John and Abigail dating from 1774 to 1783. Of the nearly three hundred pieces in the volume, some fifty, out of which over thirty were by Abigail, had not previously been published in Charles Francis’s earlier editions of his grandparents’ correspond­ ence. These would be the last to appear in his lifetime, and they did little to transform knowledge of Abigail’s life—particularly since they skip entirely the presidential years—though the book has remained enduringly popular on account of the d­ialogue it presents between two such capa­ ble letter writers who also happened to be important observers of monumental events in American history. Charles Francis sadly continued his habit of omitting large s­ections of material when he considered it unsuitable for public consumption, so the collection must be approached with care today. Little further systematic effort was made to publish Abigail’s writings until the mid‐ twentieth century. The Adams family tightly controlled access to the papers still in its possession, restricting use to a mere handful of individuals, even as it put them on loan at the Massachusetts Historical Society in Boston and formed the Adams Manuscript Trust to decide the ultimate disposition of the papers. No family member took upon him‐ or herself the responsibility for

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continuing Charles Francis Adams’s legacy of making these materials more widely available—until 1954, when the Trust ­ decided finally to release the material to the public. In a rather extraordinary turnabout from earlier attitudes in the ­family, the mem­ bers of this group committed themselves— through the Society—to drastically increasing access to the papers. Not only were the man­ uscripts deeded outright to the Society but, in return, the Society had to promise to sup­ port a documentary edition whose express purpose was and is to publish the papers of the three generations of Adamses, from the 1760s to 1889. Since the 1950s, the Adams Papers edito­ rial project has published some fifty volumes of Adams materials, including the eleven volumes of Adams Family Correspondence in which Abigail’s letters appear. Lyman H. Butterfield, the first editor in chief of the project, established this particular series explicitly to showcase the letters of the women in the Adams family—a novel approach that recognized the importance of their writings to the overall story of the Adamses and of American history as seen through the lens of that family. In the intro­ duction to the first volume, Butterfield noted that the policy of separating the fam­ ily correspondence from the public papers of the Adams statesmen “enables the women of the family, both those born into it and those who married into it, to take their places beside the Adams men instead of being obscured by them” (Butterfield et al., 1963–2013, 1: xxiv). The series continues to showcase Abigail’s letters, her own r­outinely constituting more than 25 percent of the contents in recent volumes. Apart from this ongoing work of printing systematically the full range of Adams mate­ rials, smaller sections of Abigail’s letters have appeared in various published collec­ tions throughout the twentieth century, slowly opening up her writings to a broader audience. The first such effort occurred between 1917 and 1925, when exchanges

among John and Abigail Adams and James and Mercy Otis Warren contained in the Adams Family Papers at the Massachusetts Historical Society and privately owned at the time by the Warren family (since donated to the Society) were published in the Society’s Collections. The editors included only about twenty of Abigail’s letters, all addressed to Mercy Otis Warren, but this was the first time a non‐family member oversaw the publication of any of Abigail’s writings. In 1942, 250 letters from Abigail to her sister Mary Smith Cranch were donated to the American Antiquarian Society in Worcester, Massachusetts, 141 of which were subsequently printed in Stewart Mitchell’s 1947 New Letters of Abigail Adams, 1788–1801. This was by far the larg­ est collection of new Abigail letters to be published to that date, and the first of its size to appear without substantial editorial intervention. They offer considerable insight into Abigail’s mindset during the early federal period, through sharp political commentary on international events such as the French Revolution and local issues like growing partisan tensions between political parties. They also give Abigail’s rich obser­ vations on day‐to‐day life, from the diffi­ culty of keeping servants (and keeping them sober) to the dangers of small pox and the beautiful vistas from the Adamses’ home in New York City looking out toward the Hudson River. They also show how much of Abigail’s life, even as first lady, continued to center on the same domestic matters that would trouble any well‐to‐do housewife in the late eighteenth century. Finally, these letters include some of the lively conversa­ tion that continued among Abigail and her sisters throughout their lives. Abigail’s c­orrespondence with her husband is justly famous, but these letters —and later publi­ cation of other letters between Abigail and both Mary and her other sister, Elizabeth— demonstrate how much she relied on her sisters as sounding boards and confidantes.



abigail adams: the life and the biographers

Happily, also around the middle of the c­ entury, a large collection of Shaw family papers was given to the Library of Congress; this made Abigail’s letters to Elizabeth publicly available, if not published, for the first time. Lester J. Cappon’s (1959) The Adams– Jefferson Letters includes all of the roughly fifty letters Abigail exchanged with Thomas Jefferson between 1785 and 1817. Cappon describes Abigail’s correspondence as “an integral part of the record,” with her help­ ing to facilitate Jefferson’s social connection with the family and welcoming him into their home in France (Cappon, 1959, 1: xxxix). Abigail’s and Jefferson’s lively exchanges once the Adamses left Paris for England in 1785 further cemented the rela­ tionship, and Jefferson even entrusted Abigail with the care of his younger daugh­ ter, Mary, upon her arrival in Europe. But if Abigail’s warmth toward Jefferson initially outpaced her husband’s, her ire at Jefferson’s perceived political betrayal in the 1790s, and especially during the election of 1800, equally exceeded John’s. An attempted rec­ onciliation in 1804 that Abigail initiated to offer condolences on the death of Mary Jefferson Eppes sputtered quickly on Jefferson’s refusal to acknowledge his role in earlier political attacks on John. They finally reconciled in 1813, piggybacking on John and Jefferson’s correspondence, but Abigail and Jefferson only exchanged a few additional letters, with little of the spark of their earlier correspondence. Still, this c­ollection offers an interesting perspective on Abigail as a letter writer to a male friend, someone from outside of New England, and a politician of quite different views from her own. To commemorate the bicentennial in 1976, the staff of the Adams Papers editorial project, led by former editor in chief Lyman H. Butterfield, prepared in 1975 The Book of Abigail and John: Selected Letters of the Adams Family, 1762–1784. Designed to highlight Abigail and John’s correspond­ ence, interspersed with material from other

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family members, this volume made these materials easily available to a popular audi­ ence for the first time in a century—since Charles Francis Adams marked the centen­ nial with his Familiar Letters. The Book of Abigail and John seeks to present “the best letters of John and Abigail Adams,” includ­ ing many never printed by Charles Francis, in a format “to be read rather than studied” (Butterfield, Friedlaender, and Kline, 1975: 10, 13). Thirty years later, Adams Papers editors Margaret A. Hogan and C. James Taylor undertook the work of updating this popu­ lar edition, eventually producing a wholly new volume, My Dearest Friend: Letters of Abigail and John Adams, in 2007. Limiting themselves exclusively to correspondence between Abigail and John, the editors included material from the entire corpus through 1801, rather than creating a chronological cut‐off after the Revolution. These decisions allowed Hogan and Taylor to include nearly three hundred letters in total, over seventy of which had never before been published. The volume also gives readers a foretaste of Abigail and John’s extensive correspondence from the 1790s, which will eventually appear in Adams Family Correspondence. Unlike in earlier times, Abigail’s life in this period was essentially stable. Without children to raise or military threat from the British, Abigail could manage the family home­ stead in relative tranquility, marred only by the vitriolic nature of politics and her c­oncerns for John’s place in the govern­ ment. And with no fear of letters being intercepted or waylaid, she could write reg­ ularly to John and he could respond in kind, which gave their 1790s correspond­ ence a routine character quite distinct from that of previous years. Neither this work nor its predecessor, The Book of Abigail and John, seeks to supplant the scholarly e­ dition, but both have contributed to keeping the letters of Abigail Adams—and her husband—in the public eye.

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“A Life I Know You Value”: Biographies Scholars who have sought to tell the story of Abigail’s life consistently find themselves torn between certain benefits and l­imitations. Her letters provide rich docu­ mentation of her day‐to‐day activities and considerable insight into her interior life throughout her adult years. But, because Abigail herself did comparatively little on the public stage and came to power at a time when the first lady’s role was still ill defined and informal, her biographers have struggled to separate her own story from that of her husband. Even recent biogra­ phies, schooled in women’s history and social history to argue for Abigail’s personal significance—as a feminist icon, as John’s most important adviser, as a model of female e­ conomic activity, and so on— f­ requently find themselves organizing Abigail’s life more by John’s actions than by her own. The difficulty was at one time further compounded by the lack of source material by Abigail herself, as compared to that from John, though this disparity has diminished with the ongoing publication of Adams Family Correspondence. In general, the biographies can be seen along a c­ontinuum of ever greater recognition of Abigail as her own person with her own complicated character. Upon Abigail’s death in 1818, Rev. Peter Whitney, minister of the First Church in Quincy, of which the Adamses were long­ time members, eulogized Abigail in what would be her first biography. Taking as his text Proverbs 14: 32—“The righteous hath hope in his death”—Whitney offered the usual celebrations of her piety and virtue. But he also highlighted several characteris­ tics of Abigail less commonly associated with women in the early nineteenth century. “Madam Adams possessed a mind elevated in its views and capable of attainments beyond the common order of intellects,” he believed. “Her discernment was quick, her

judgment solid, and all her faculties so hap­ pily adjusted, as to form at once the intelli­ gent, discrete and captivating mind.” He went on to note: “Her acquaintance with men and with events, with the civil and political interests of her own nation, from the sphere in which she was called to act, was deep and extensive.” He recognized Abigail’s “lively concern into every thing relating to the national welfare” (Whitney, 1819: 7–8). Similarly, in one of the obituar­ ies that accompanied the published eulogy, it was reported that “her acquaintance with public affairs, her discrimination of charac­ ter, her discernment of the signs of the times, and her pure patriotism made her an excellent cabinet minister” (1819: 18). Charles Francis Adams included in his editions of Abigail’s letters a “Memoir” g­ iving a short overview of her life and designed to justify the items selected for his volume. He emphasized her early lack of formal education, as well as her abiding interest in the popular writers of the day and her affinity for letter writing. Portraying her as a woman of unusual “presence of mind and accuracy of judgment,” Charles Francis, in tune with his epoch, celebrated her domestic pursuits, commenting that “there was no time when she was more usefully occupied” than when she managed the household in John’s absence in Europe (Adams, 1848: xxxiv, xli). But the editor was also keenly aware of the complexity of such tasks and of Abigail’s great skill in approaching them: She is a farmer cultivating the land, and discussing the weather and the crops; a merchant reporting prices‐current and the rates of exchange, and directing the making up of invoices; a politician specu­ lating upon the probabilities of peace or war; and a mother writing the most exalted sentiments to her son. All of these pursuits she  adopts together; some from choice, the rest from the necessity of the case; and in all she appears equally well. (Adams, 1848: xli)



abigail adams: the life and the biographers

While shying away from any negative comments on his grandmother—she was a model wife and mother in Charles Francis’s eyes, a saintly woman nobly assisting her husband and defending him against all ene­ mies, foreign and domestic—Charles Francis’s memoir provides early acknowl­ edgment of the myriad responsibilities Abigail undertook in her life and of her impressive skill at managing the duties of wife to an American statesman. Early twentieth‐century biographies, such as Laura E. Richards’s (1917) Abigail Adams and Her Times and Dorothie Bobbé’s (1929) Abigail Adams: The Second First Lady, follow a similar path, albeit while giving Abigail somewhat more complexity of character. Histories of John as much as they are about Abigail, they focus on major events in his life—the trial following the Boston Massacre, time spent in the Continental Congress, dangerous transat­ lantic crossings, election to the presidency. Abigail is largely left to endorse John’s actions and to prove her endless courage in the face of whatever adversity he (or occa­ sionally she) must face. Thus, when John accepted a post in the Massachusetts General Court in 1770, Abigail, was by no means insensible of the danger to herself and her children that this turn of fate might bring, while for John her fears were endless, though she would not show them. They thought alike on the main project. He had done as he ought; and she was willing to share in what might come, and to place her faith in Providence. (Bobbé, 1929: 33)

Part of the difficulty these authors faced was a necessary reliance on published sources. Simply put, far more of John Adams’s writings were available at the time, and especially precious few of Abigail’s from the period after 1783, including from her time as first lady. Richards lamented these limitations, commenting on her lack of knowledge of domestic affairs: “What was

31

home life like, when Johnny and Abby Adams were little? It would be pleasant to see something of it in detail; if Mrs. Adams had only kept a diary!” (Richards, 1917: 124). Richards then went on to speculate, using her knowledge of eighteenth‐century life but with little specific reference to Abigail’s own experiences—and with even less interest in the public role Abigail played during John’s period in the executive branch, including when she was first lady. Still, these works cover events in Abigail’s life apart from John, such as her attendance at the first reading of the Declaration of Independence in Boston or her own transat­ lantic crossing, and make clear that her life was not spent solely waiting for John to return. And by quoting substantially from those letters then available—a limitation important to bear in mind for all works on the Adamses published before the middle of the century—both Richards and Bobbé placed them in historical context and coun­ tered any notion of Abigail’s passivity. Thus Bobbé’s comment that in November 1800 Abigail “had journeyed to stand by the President in the hour of his disillusionment” is juxtaposed against her letter to Thomas Boylston, which sagely evaluates the p­olitical realities of the election of 1800 and com­ ments thoughtfully on her and John’s future prospects as they entered retirement (Bobbé, 1029: 303–304). By 1947, when Janet Whitney published her Abigail Adams, considerably more material was available to the author. Adams family descendants granted her access to some of the papers held at the Massachusetts Historical Society, greatly broadening the scope of her work and allowing her to paint a much more complex picture—substantially in Abigail’s own words—of her subject. Thus Whitney gave considerably more weight than earlier biographers to Abigail’s own activities, describing at length her efforts managing the farms in John’s absence, commenting on the challenges of childbirth and child‐rearing, and recounting

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her mercantile transactions during John’s years abroad. She covers Abigail’s own v­oyage to Europe in detail and offers a thor­ ough review of Abigail’s views on European life and society. In covering the presidential years, Whitney cogently notes that Abigail’s astute judgment allowed her to recognize Alexander Hamilton’s political betrayal e­arlier than John and to become a strong advocate for some of John’s most contro­ versial diplomatic efforts, especially his m­ission to France. Yet the author did not completely break free from the trope of Abigail as paragon. “John Adams could easily have become a domestic autocrat,” Whitney wrote. A meek woman would have been crushed by him, a woman of average intelligence would have been reduced to silence, an assertive woman … would have found life a misery of continual battle. But Abigail’s lively and natural self‐confidence, her deep and wide intelligence, and her feminine softness made the ideal combination. (Whitney, 1947: 29)

Still, Whitney portrayed Abigail with some nuance. The author recognized, for instance, that Abigail’s interference in John Quincy’s romantic life did not lead to his happiness or contribute to his well‐being: “So little did [John Quincy’s] mother understand his deep, repressed, mature suffering” over her insisting that he break off an understanding with his first love, Mary Frazier, that “her sympathetic concern was curiously beside the point.” Abigail mistakenly assumed that he was pining for lack of work, not for the relationship (244). Overall, Whitney e­nvisioned Abigail as a remarkable woman but not a perfect one. Charles W. Akers’s (1980) biography Abigail Adams: An American Woman was the first to appear following the formal opening of the Adams Papers manuscripts at the Massachusetts Historical Society. It was also the first to be published in the wake of the development of social history and

women’s history as meaningful approaches to historical research, and he employs both to elucidate Abigail’s life and examine her as a model of “republican motherhood” in the eighteenth century. He argues that “[t]he life of this one woman forms a large window on society during the three‐quarters of a century that saw the birth and political m­aturation of the United States,” and he uses his book to show Abigail as a woman of significant note beyond her connection to John or John Quincy (Akers, 1980: 1). At pains to emphasize Abigail’s activities, Akers admirably avoids retelling John’s life, as was common in earlier biographies, providing instead merely enough information on John’s work to explain Abigail’s own actions. But Akers sometimes overreaches in his efforts to demonstrate Abigail’s inde­ pendence. His repeated emphasis, for instance, on the equality between them in their marriage masks the reality of John’s legal authority over Abigail. Abigail herself might have wanted “to insist on the equal importance of the male and female roles or on the right of a woman to judge how well her husband and sons met their responsi­ bilities,” but she also ultimately deferred to John’s decisions regarding his acceptance of diplomatic appointments and public office (189). Even in the realm of finances, if Abigail’s choices may have prevailed, that was because John wisely allowed it. Nonetheless, at the time of its publication Akers’s book was a welcome corrective to earlier Abigail biographies, and it remains a readable and thoughtful treatment of its subject. Focusing on what the author sees as ambiguities and contradictions in Abigail’s character, Lynne Withey’s (1981) Dearest Friend: A Life of Abigail Adams, which was published at nearly the same time as Akers’s book, argues for Abigail’s essential conserv­ atism despite her outspoken nature, seem­ ingly radical ideas, and tendency to press the boundaries of the accepted place for women in the eighteenth century. Withey believes



abigail adams: the life and the biographers

that, fundamentally, Abigail “feared revolu­ tion; she valued stability, believed that fam­ ily and religion were the essential props of social order, and considered inequality a social necessity” (1981: x). Withey chal­ lenges the picture of Abigail, the radical who demanded equality for women, rightly recognizing that Abigail operated within an eighteenth‐century mindset where “improved legal and social status for women was not inconsistent with their essentially domestic role” (82). In the context of s­erving as the president’s wife, this meant, for Abigail, a desire to emulate both Martha Washington’s “gracious Southern hospital­ ity” and her ability to stay above the political fray—neither of which came naturally to the second first lady (244). Withey’s argument, however, undermines her belief in Abigail’s contradictory nature. Abigail’s press for rights for women within the home appears far less conservative or contradictory in a world where women’s scope was confined to the home. Withey’s tendency to project her twentieth‐century ideals onto Abigail creates the occasional jarring note in an o­therwise well‐constructed volume. The journalist and author Phyllis Lee Levin began studying the life of Abigail Adams in the early 1970s but published her Abigail Adams: A Biography in 1987. Influenced by the women’s movement of the 1960s and by contemporary (if timeless) debates over a balance between family and career, Levin believes that Abigail’s “life illustrates feminism in the most comprehen­ sive, Websterian significance of that electri­ fying word. Abigail did, indeed, have the vision to support (if not invent) the p­rinciple that women should have ‘political, eco­ nomic, and social rights equal to those of men’” (Levin, 1987: xv). Yet Levin, under­ mining this contention, focuses far more heavily on Abigail as John’s partner, a d­utiful, domestic wife assisting her husband to further his political career, than on her role as an independent woman promoting equal rights. Levin writes, without irony:

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“In the very first letter John wrote to Abigail on his way to Philadelphia he outlined p­recisely the primary areas of responsibility in their partnership” (40). John makes the decisions and issues the orders; Abigail obeys. Furthermore, Levin’s attention often strays from Abigail to John, who sometimes seems the subject of the volume. Well‐ w­ritten but not always as carefully researched as it might have been, Levin’s book is enter­ taining reading but fails to grapple with the complexity of Abigail’s character, preferring convenient tropes to more thorough analysis. The only biographer to date who broke out of the traditional chronological telling of Abigail’s life is Edith B. Gelles, whose Portia: The World of Abigail Adams (Gelles, 1992) and First Thoughts: Life and Letters of Abigail Adams (Gelles, 1998) both eschew that format for that of a work based on examining discrete episodes in Abigail’s life—what Gelles describes as a “collage” (Gelles, 1992: xv). In Portia, Gelles covers such topics as Abigail’s flirtatious relation­ ship with the Massachusetts congressman James Lovell, her evolution as a business­ woman during the Revolution, and even what she calls “the Abigail industry,” a recounting of the use of Abigail in biogra­ phies and other histories for myriad differ­ ent agendas (which any reader of this chapter would be well served to peruse for Gelles’s analysis of many of the same works considered here). Her second book focuses on Abigail the writer, seeking “to highlight Abigail’s letter‐writing persona while acknowledging her other accomplish­ ments.” The author aptly acknowledges that Abigail’s letters “deserve to be the primary source of her historic reputation” and pro­ ceeds to explore the different ways Abigail used her letters and the different genres into which they fall (Gelles, 1998: 3, 4). Thus Gelles dedicates an entire chapter to fully exploring Abigail’s “Remember the Ladies” letter, another to her travel writing en route from the United States to Britain, and yet

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another to “historic letters,” which unpacks her writings as first lady, focusing on how they document the activities of the Adams administration. As Abigail was a firsthand observer at some points during John’s p­residency and his primary correspondent when she was away from the capital, her c­ orrespondence provides an unusually rich window into John’s actions and decision‐making. Gelles’s approach has the considerable strength of focusing the author’s energy on issues and events of importance to Abigail: Gelles does not succumb to the need to tell John’s story as well, except of course as it intersects with Abigail’s. Therefore Gelles is able to examine in considerable detail Abigail’s economic activities during the Revolution, including her management of tenants and the farm and the development of her business of reselling European goods in Boston—all in order for us to better understand Abigail’s growing responsibility for the support of her family. The lack of a traditional cradle‐to‐grave narrative, how­ ever, leaves gaps that may mystify readers unfamiliar with Abigail’s basic biography. Still, Gelles’s method effectively points the lens squarely at Abigail, making her unques­ tionably the center of her own biography. Rosemary Keller launches her study Patriotism and the Female Sex: Abigail Adams and the American Revolution with one of Abigail’s most famous quotations: “Patriotism in the female Sex is the most disinterested of all virtues” (Keller, 1994: xix). Keller seeks to consider the intersec­ tion of women’s lives with the Revolution, especially how Abigail “extended the argu­ ments for independence to envision new rights for women,” and how the Revolution, in turn, “penetrated Abigail Adams’s mind and life” (2). After an extended introduc­ tion to Abigail’s ancestors, designed to show the Puritan milieu out of which Abigail emerged, and a discussion of her courtship, which highlights women’s place in marriage in the eighteenth century, Keller focuses on

Abigail’s “intellectual conversion” from loyal colonist to committed patriot over the period from the mid‐1760s to 1776 (44). Keller then discusses how Abigail came to use these newfound ideas in her own life, even if she did not explicitly recognize her own independence. The book concludes with Abigail’s decision to venture to Europe in 1784, which Keller interprets as an act of “bold, courageous exploration” (167). Keller places Abigail on the broader con­ tinuum of feminism, a “link in the evolving role of women in American history. … Abigail Adams’s life represents an effort to prepare the way for enlightened feminism, the autonomy of women through develop­ ment of reason and serious intellectual advancement” (185–186). While offering a thoughtful assessment of Abigail’s evolving ideas, however, Keller ignores the reality that Abigail was not a public figure during the Revolution; John was. Abigail has come down to us as such a figure because her once private papers are now public, not because she played a significant public role in the 1770s (or even the 1790s, as first lady). This does not diminish Keller’s legitimate inter­ est in Abigail’s intellectual journey, but it does raise questions about the uses to which it can be put in the broader realm of wom­ en’s history. How much influence did Abigail wield beyond the (not insignificant) circle of her own family and friends? And to what extent was her maturation paralleled by that of other women at the time? The most recent contribution to the growing library of Abigail biographies is Woody Holton’s (2009) Abigail Adams. Initially intrigued by her participation in bond speculation in the 1780s, which he researched as part of an earlier project on the origins of the constitution, Holton expanded his work into a full‐length book on Abigail. But he retained his interest in Abigail’s financial dealings, focusing on her business activities as an expression of her independence and autonomy in the face of limitations placed on women under the law.



abigail adams: the life and the biographers

He argues that her investing in government securities, her use of money she herself had earned by reselling European goods, consti­ tuted “the first of her own declarations of independence,” and that “she turned her own household into a laboratory where she imagined what the emancipation of women might look like” (Holton, 2009: xii). Holton is not the first to consider Abigail as a businesswoman or to see the connection between economic independence and per­ sonal freedom, but he examines these themes in the most sustained fashion to date, tracing these qualities through the entirety of Abigail’s adult life. His analysis of Abigail’s “disposition of her property”—her will by another name, though it had no authority as a legal document—is particu­ larly thoughtful. Holton highlights it as the culmination of Abigail’s own thinking on the subject of women’s rights and property, but, wisely, he also recognizes the extent to which Abigail’s ability to distribute her own goods was contingent upon the consent of her husband. Abigail’s forty‐year “labora­ tory” was only possible because John wisely tolerated it, a conundrum to challenge all scholars who want to promote Abigail’s “emancipation.” Finally, in 2009 and 2010 respectively, Edith B. Gelles and Joseph J. Ellis—both writers well familiar with the Adamses— chose to tackle Abigail and John in joint or double biographies, seeking to examine them explicitly as a couple. John and Abigail often used the term “partner” to refer to one another, and biographers have fre­ quently acknowledged the difficulty of relat­ ing the story of one without also devoting substantial time to the other. Gelles entitles her work Abigail & John: Portrait of a Marriage, emphasizing that “[o]nly by see­ ing the Adamses in tandem, as a couple, can we fully understand John or Abigail Adams and their lives and times.” She argues that theirs was “a marriage of equals” in terms of the qualities each brought to the relation­ ship individually, but also that it was “a

35

typical eighteenth‐century marriage,” where each partner embraced a Puritan‐inspired understanding of his or her duties in the world, which were considered separate but equally important (Gelles, 2009: ix–x). Joseph J. Ellis’s First Family: Abigail and John, in turn, is the story of Abigail and John’s “long‐standing conversation” within their letters, which Ellis hopes to tell “within the context of America’s creation as a people and a nation” (Ellis, 2010: ix). Both books cover similar ground, providing strong introductions to the Adamses written in Gelles’s and Ellis’s usual polished fashion, and both end, strikingly, with the evocative image of Abigail and John lying together in death at the First Church in Quincy. While neither work offers the analytical insight one would expect from these authors, readers could do far worse than to use them as introductions to an extraordinary couple. Better documented than virtually any other eighteenth‐century American w­oman’s, Abigail’s life defies easy categori­ zation. The sheer quantity of her writings, produced over more than fifty years across a period of significant personal and national change, makes it possible for biographers to find her saying almost anything they could wish in support of any particular interpreta­ tion. And the time in which she lived, her proximity to major political and diplomatic figures, her interest in women’s roles, and her own active life all give ample material for scholars who seek to discuss myriad historical topics from a range of perspectives. What is certain, Abigail’s life continues to fascinate readers and to provide a special challenge to historians. References Adams, C. F., ed. 1848. Letters of Mrs. Adams, the Wife of John Adams, 4th edn. Boston: Wilkins, Carter. Adams, C. F., ed. 1876. Familiar Letters of John Adams and His Wife Abigail Adams, during the Revolution. New York: Hurd and Houghton.

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Akers, C. W. 1980. Abigail Adams: An American Woman. Boston: Little, Brown. Bobbé, D. 1929. Abigail Adams: The Second First Lady. New York: Minton, Balch. Butterfield, L. H., L. C. Faber, and W. D. Garrett, eds. 1961. Diary and Autobiography of John Adams, 4 vols. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Butterfield, L. H., M. Friedlaender, R. A. Ryerson, and M. A. Hogan, eds. 1963–2013. Adams Family Correspondence, 11 vols. (to date). Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Butterfield, L. H., M. Friedlaender, and M.‐J. Kline, eds. 1975. The Book of Abigail and John: Selected Letters of the Adams Family 1762–1784. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Cappon, L. J., ed. 1959. The Adams–Jefferson Letters: The Complete Correspondence between Thomas Jefferson and Abigail and John Adams, 2 vols. Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press. Ellis, J. J. 2010. First Family: Abigail and John. New York: Knopf. Gelles, E. B. 1992. Portia: The World of Abigail Adams. Bloomington: Indiana University Press. Gelles, E. B. 1998. First Thoughts: Life and Letters of Abigail Adams. New York: Twayne. Gelles, E. B. 2009. Abigail & John: Portrait of a Marriage. New York: William Morrow. Hogan, M. A., and C. J. Taylor, eds. 2007. My Dearest Friend: Letters of Abigail and John Adams. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Holton, W. 2009. Abigail Adams. New York: Free Press. Keller, R. 1994. Patriotism and the Female Sex: Abigail Adams and the American Revolution. Brooklyn: Carlson. Levin, P. L. 1987. Abigail Adams: A Biography. New York: St. Martin’s Press. Mitchell, S., ed. 1947. New Letters of Abigail Adams 1788–1801. Boston: Houghton Mifflin. Richards, L. E. 1917. Abigail Adams and Her Times. New York: D. Appleton. Warren–Adams Letters: Being Chiefly a Correspondence among John Adams, Samuel Adams, and James Warren, 2 vols. 1917– 1925. Massachusetts Historical Society Collections 72–73. Boston: Massachusetts Historical Society [= MHi]. Whitney, J. 1947. Abigail Adams. Boston: Little, Brown.

Whitney, P. 1819. A Sermon Delivered on the Lord’s Day Succeeding the Interment of Madam Abigail Adams. Boston: Hews & Goss. Withey, L. 1981. Dearest Friend: A Life of Abigail Adams. New York: Free Press.

Further Reading The discussion above provides information on the major book‐length biographies of Abigail Adams, including two recent joint biographies of Abigail and John. It should serve as a guide to those seeking fuller treat­ ments of Abigail’s life. For further information on the history of her papers and the plans for their publica­ tion, see the introductions to the Diary and Autobiography of John Adams and volume 1 of the Adams Family Correspondence, along with L. H. Butterfield, “The Papers of the Adams Family: Some Account of Their History,” Massachusetts Historical Society Proceedings 71 (1953–1957): 328–356. The introductions to each volume of Family Correspondence (introductions appear in vol­ umes 1, 3, 5, and in every book from volume 7 forward) frequently focus on Abigail and should be consulted as useful guides to and overviews of her correspondence in the ­context of the wider family’s writings. As Butterfield intended, since John’s public w­ ritings appear elsewhere, Adams Family Correspondence puts Abigail’s letters front and center and the introductions are designed to aid the reader in better appreciating them. Abigail also appears prominently in col­ lective biographies and histories of women in the revolutionary and early federal peri­ ods of the United States, due in large meas­ ure to her richly descriptive letters. See, for example, Cokie Roberts, Founding Mothers: The Women Who Raised Our Nation (New York: William Morrow, 2004), and Pauline Schloesser, The Fair Sex: White Women and Racial Patriarchy in the Early American Republic (New York: New York University Press, 2002), among others.



abigail adams: the life and the biographers

Finally, Abigail has inspired fictional treatments, notably Irving Stone’s Those Who Love: A Biographical Novel of Abigail and John Adams (Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1965), a highly readable account of the Adamses’ lives up to 1783 that is heavily based on the Adams Papers volumes. Barbary Hambly c­reates fictional biographies of Abigail, Martha Washington,

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Sally Hemings, and Dolley Madison in Patriot Hearts: A Novel of the Founding Mothers (New York: Bantam, 2007). And  most recently, Abigail appears—­ improbably—as a fictional detective in a series of historical mysteries by Barbara Hamilton, beginning with The Ninth Daughter (New York: Berkley, 2009) and in two others to date.

Chapter Three

Martha Jefferson Randolph, First Daughter Billy L. Wayson

Introduction “This is a flying visit only,” Martha Jefferson Randolph informed her father, “to show that we are in earnest with regard to Washington” (Martha Jefferson Randolph to Thomas Jefferson, November 9, 1802 = Boyd et al., 1950– [henceforth PTJ] 38: 655–656). Thomas Jefferson had been u­rging his two daughters to the new capital city even before his election on February 17, 1801, on the thirty‐sixth ballot in the House of Representatives. If I am fixed here, it will be but three easy days’ journey from you: so that I should hope you & the family could pay an annual visit here at least; which with mine to Monticello of the spring & fall, might e­nable us to be together 4. or 5. months of the year. On this subject however we may hereafter converse, lest we should be counting chickens before they are hatched. (Thomas Jefferson to Martha Jefferson Randolph, January 16, 1801 = PTJ 32: 475–476)

Throughout Thomas Jefferson’s first term as president and two years into the second, the Jefferson family was invited

into the political and social world of Washington City. Martha, her daughter Ann and son Jeff along with sister Maria were able to make that “flying” visit from mid‐November 1802 to January 5, 1803; but pregnancies, children’s illnesses, planta­ tion demands, and other contingencies repeatedly frustrated their father’s plans for more frequent stays. Meanwhile Thomas Mann Randolph Junior, Martha’s husband, was confounding matters by running for Congress against an ardent supporter of Jefferson and, even as the “flying trip” was being planned, was threatening to move his enslaved workers to a cotton plantation in Georgia. Eight months pregnant and accompanied by six children and a husband recently elected to Congress, Martha paid a second visit that was substantially longer from early December 1805 to the end of April 1806. In neither case does her partici­ pation at the President’s House rise to the level of “hostess,” but Martha’s contribu­ tion to her father’s presidency was much more critical than selecting china, arranging furniture, or entertaining guests. Despite a presence at the President’s House that spanned in total only little more than six months, she was the emotional foundation

A Companion to First Ladies, First Edition. Edited by Katherine A. S. Sibley. © 2016 John Wiley & Sons, Inc. Published 2016 by John Wiley & Sons, Inc.



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that supported her father’s exercise of republican civic virtue. Why Martha? The roles assumed by, played by, and foisted on women associated with the president and the office of the president have been as v­aried and colorful as the cultural, social, and political stages on which they were p­ erformed (Snyder, 2012). One historian has labeled Martha Washington a “social hostess and ceremonial partner” and Abigail Adams a “political confidante” (Watson, 2001). A plethora of perspectives remains some two hundred years later. Modern‐day opinions, for example, refer to the situation as “job,” “duties,” “position,” and “role” (Cohen, 2000: 377). Watson (1997: 810) has noted that initially first ladies of the early republic “shaped the institution as that of a public ceremonial office responsible for social functions and hosting formal affairs of state,” but eventually some transformed their role into one of “confidante and infor­ mal adviser to the president on political matters.” What was Martha Jefferson Randolph’s contribution to her father’s presidency? She was decidedly not a “host­ ess” at the President’s House or her father’s political “confidante”—functions ably p­erformed by Martha Washington, Abigail Adams and Dolley Madison. Martha served instead in a unique (and unexplored) c­ apacity for the office: that of providing unwavering emotional support for a p­resident whose sensibility made him suffer even for the mildest conflict or perceived rebuke. Martha and the “idea of Martha” were the equilibrating forces through the ups and downs of her father’s political life. Her time in Washington City was brief; her influence from afar was immense. Political and social historians have i­dentified notions of “republican mother” and “republican wife” emerging after the Revolution. The civic duties associated with

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these roles were performed mostly within domestic boundaries to prepare sons for public service and correct husbands’ lapses from civic virtue (Kerber, 1980: 228–229; Lewis, 1987: 699). Martha served in the role of “republican daughter” by helping maintain her father’s hoped‐for but seldom achieved ideal of peaceful domesticity and by nurturing the sentimental attachments he needed. She was drawn emotionally into the political maelstrom by suffering long periods of separation from the person she loved most and by counterbalancing her father’s disaffections with political life. Bracketed by two of the nation’s most prominent and distinguished first ladies, America’s “first daughter” has been almost wholly ignored. Jefferson’s noted bio­ grapher simply recounts Martha’s p­regnancy, clothing purchases, and dining with John Quincy Adams during the 1805–1806 Washington visit (Malone, 1974: 63–64). Another historian recently observed that Jefferson “learned to depend on this rock solid female”; but she did not relate e­xplicitly this dependency to presidential responsibili­ ties (Scharff, 2010: 303). Because Martha was not physically present, her involvement can be mistakenly interpreted as “subtle and only intermittent” (Kierner, 2012: 109). In fact a close reading of their correspondence clearly reveals that the “first daughter” was foremost and continuously present in her father’s heart, especially during his most d­ifficult political trials. The story of Martha Jefferson Randolph and her father affords an opportunity to move beyond salacious and titillating explo­ rations of the emotional dynamics between women and men in presidential history. Martha’s voice in her letters reveals just how emotionally present she was in the chief executive’s heart and how critical this p­ resence was to his official performance. The correspondence between Abigail and John Adams has contributed to our u­nderstanding of how complex and nuanced g­ ender relations can be in a political

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environment (Barker‐Benfield, 2010); so too do the letters between Martha Jefferson Randolph and Thomas Jefferson (Kierner, 2012; Wayson, 2013: 33–34). Jefferson’s need for emotional support is explained by his embrace of the period’s c­ulture of sensibility—an emphasis on feel­ ings as essential to human happiness (Wayson, 2012: 301–317; Knott, 2009: 50–51). Martha’s two visits to Washington City will be described against the backdrop of contemporary political and social events, but her important contribution to Jefferson’s presidency was the emotional counterbal­ ance she provided to what her father consid­ ered political chicanery, alienation, and conflict. Becoming First Daughter Life events before 1800 and Jefferson’s s­ entimental disposition help us under­ stand the distinctive and essential role his daughter played during the presidential years. Martha did not suffer the bitter cold and dangers of Valley Forge, like Martha Washington, or the privations of a foreign army’s occupation of Boston that Abigail Adams endured. However, she had been just as well prepared for the challenging role of first lady by the loss of her mother in 1782, at just ten years of age; by her formal education in a Paris convent from 1784–1789; by socializing with free‐thinking European women; by her father’s careful tutelage; and by spend­ ing ten years as the mistress of an elite southern plantation. Martha’s mother, the beautiful and musi­ cally talented widow Martha Wayles Skelton, had met Thomas Jefferson in 1772; he was soon smitten. Their marriage was subjected to all the ravages of war, including flights from invading armies and shuttling between their unfinished mountaintop home and the  safety of relatives’ plantations. At the same time they had to cope with

debilitating pregnancies and infant deaths. When Mrs. Jefferson passed away in 1782 from the complications of her sixth delivery in ten years, Jefferson was already worn down emotionally and was still accepting the p­rospect of being a single parent to his newly born Lucy, Maria, and firstborn Martha, known throughout her childhood as “Patsy.” (Three other children—Jane, the first Lucy, and a stillborn son—had already died.) Nearly five decades later, the adult Martha recalled she had been her father’s “constant companion” during this period and the experiences had been imprinted on her so strongly that they “consecrated ­particular scenes … beyond the power of time to obliterate” ([Martha Jefferson Randolph,] “Reminiscences of Th.[omas] J.[efferson] by M.[artha] R.[andolph]” = PTJ 6: 199–200). Just a few weeks after those tragic days, Patsy and her father splashed across the Rivanna River at the foot of Monticello Mountain, jostled along rutted roads to Orange Court House, ferried over the Potomac at Georgetown toward Baltimore, and arrived in Philadelphia on December 27. However, Jefferson’s appointment to join Benjamin Franklin and John Adams as a peace commissioner in Paris was rescinded when treaty agreements were reached with England. Political demands would not leave their doorstep, however. A few months at home and the pair was off again, in the fall of 1783—to Philadelphia, where Patsy’s father was to represent Virginia in the Confederation Congress. Eleven‐year old Patsy was placed with a surrogate mother in a private home and began a “plan of reading” that, in her father’s view, was “considerably different for her sex in any country other than America,” at least as he envisioned the future republic (Thomas Jefferson to Marbois, December 5, 1783 = PTJ 6: 373– 374; Wayson, 2010: 133–134). “The acquirements you will make under the tutors,” her father wrote, “will render you



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more worthy of my love, and if they cannot increase it they will prevent its diminution.” Spelling was a particular concern. “Take care that you never spell a word wrong. … It produces great praise to a lady to spell well,” he wrote (Thomas Jefferson to Martha Jefferson, Annapolis = PTJ 6: 359–361). More unique than the books and the writ­ ing were the people and the place where Patsy lived, at the corner of 5th and Market. Philadelphia was America’s largest city, b­ ustling with international trade and i­mmigrants from around the globe; and it was the center of America’s Enlightenment. For twenty‐five years, the combination of personal tragedy and Jefferson’s political ambitions generated regular letters between father and daughter that described their s­ eparately lived lives, anticipated reunions, and expressed loving attachment. Patsy was directed to write a letter to her father on every post day, enclosing a­r twork, listing books she had read, music she had played, and her educational progress. Nourishing her Virginia roots was a weekly letter either to her aunts or to her five‐ year‐old sister Maria. Soon Patsy would be writing from Paris. “Brightest Part of Life” Her father’s appointment as minister to France in 1784 brought twelve‐year‐old Patsy in contact with accomplished women of the French Enlightenment, whose public engagement more closely approximated the gender roles about to emerge in the new  republic’s political–cultural milieu (Goodman, 1989). From the age of 12 to the age of 16 she lived at Panthemont Convent in Paris, with Catholic nuns, w­idows, and women down on their luck, and she attended school with youngsters of Europe’s aristocracy. Patsy was honored with a seat at the Abbess’s dining table and learned secondhand about palace intrigues, revolutionary stirrings, and women’s

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p­olitical influence from those lodging at the convent. However, Martha’s experiences went far beyond polite conversation and spicy gossip. Her final months in France bore witness to an emergent revolution and allowed her to socialize with prominent, influential women. The National Assembly, formed to address the country’s political future, voted in early August 1789 in favor of abolishing the feudal order; later in the month French activists decreed freedom of  press and religion and adopted a “Declaration of the Rights of Man”—all events closely monitored and in some degree actively promoted by the US minis­ ter. Many years later, Martha recollected to her daughter that the time in Paris was “the brightest part of a life much shaded & s­ addened by care & s­ orrows” (Birle and Francavilla, 2011: 159). Perhaps the environment of Catholic religiosity and too much unfiltered political gossip prompted her father in early 1789 to withdraw Patsy into “the gay circles of Paris.” Her modest convent frock was imme­ diately replaced by more fashionable clothes (Bear and Stanton, 1997, 1: 729–731), and she began a vigorous social life which her father limited to three balls weekly. She was able to hobnob with the noted gambler and political activist Georgiana, Duchess of Devonshire; to attend events with the cele­ brated author and literary theorist Germaine de Staël; and to observe firsthand the col­ lective power of French women as they marched to the king’s palace at Versailles and forced the royal c­ ouple’s return to Paris  under the escort of the Marquis de Lafayette, a Jefferson family friend (Randolph, 1877: 22). A Life of Public Service Yet this Paris sojourn meant that Patsy and her father were physically and socially iso­ lated for seven years from their family, friends, acquaintances, familiar surroundings,

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and from their deep roots in Virginia’s plan­ tation culture. Immediately upon their return to the United States in 1790, Jefferson accepted an appointment as s­ecretary of state in George Washington’s Cabinet and soon left behind at Monticello a seventeen‐year‐old newlywed to learn as best she could the ways of a plantation mis­ tress. Martha’s hasty marriage to her cousin, Thomas Mann Randolph Junior, of Tuckahoe plantation, just weeks after returning did not dim her ardor for “dearest Papa” (Thomas Jefferson to Martha Jefferson Randolph, April 4, 1790 = PTJ 16: 300). Their emotional ties seeded in the throes of grief and nurtured in isola­ tion from other relations, Martha and her father were irrevocably first in each other’s hearts. He advised that her happiness demanded she do everything to “please just a single person” (Thomas Jefferson to Martha Jefferson Randolph, New York, April 4, 1790 = PTJ 16: 300). “[M]y h­appiness can never be compete without your company,” she rejoined and agreed that everything was secondary to pleasing her husband, “except my love for you” (Martha Jefferson Randolph to Thomas Jefferson, Richmond, April 25, 1790 = PTJ 16: 384–385). Their relationship and Martha’s confi­ dence had matured by 1798 to the point where she could candidly describe to her father just how they had reached this e­motional summit. I feel every day more strongly the impos­ sibility of becoming habituated to your absence; separated in my infancy from every other friend, and accustomed to look up to you alone, every sentiment of ten­ derness my nature was susceptible of was for many years centered in you, and no connexion [sic] formed since that could weaken a sentiment interwoven with my very existence. (Martha Jefferson Randolph to Thomas Jefferson, Bellmont, January 22, 1798 = PTJ 30: 43–44)

Letters to Fill a Heart Jefferson placed a high value on regular cor­ respondence generally, but keeping in touch with his daughter was especially salient, as separations became longer, more frequent and brimming with distasteful experiences. He and Martha assuaged their sense of iso­ lation by using letters to concoct an imagi­ nary family that lived in tranquil harmony atop a mountain resplendent in beauty—a wellspring of physical and emotional health. This “happy domestic society” of Monticello was “founded in sincere affection” (Thomas Jefferson to Mary Jefferson Eppes, Philadelphia, January 17, 1800 = PTJ 31: 314–316). When they entered public ser­ vice in the new republic, this epistolary trope was deployed to engender emotional stability amid the clamor of everyday poli­ tics. By mid‐1793 Jefferson seemed to have tired of political skirmishes, pledging to Martha: “When I see you, it will be never to part again” (Thomas Jefferson to Martha Jefferson Randolph, Philadelphia, May 12, 1793 = PTJ 26: 18–20). Yet he did not withdraw from consideration in the 1796 election, losing by only three votes to John Adams and becoming vice president; by 1797 he was already planning the 1800 campaign. Still, he was conflicted and could not contain his dispiritedness, writing his daughter: When I look to the ineffable pleasures of my family society, I become more and more disgusted with the jealousies, the hatred, and the rancorous and malignant passions of this scene, and lament my hav­ ing ever again been drawn into public view. (Thomas Jefferson to Martha Jefferson Randolph, Philadelphia, June 8, 1797 = PTJ 29: 424–425)

Coupled to Martha’s and her father’s heightened sensitivity to each other’s inter­ nal landscape, letters were critical to shaping her adult role as first daughter and as e­motional confidante of the president. Their



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correspondence reveals a “first lady” of a  quite different sort. Regularly sched­ uled  expressions of affection and detailed descriptions of lives lived apart added an ­ appearance of stability amid political con­ tests, uncertainties, and personal disloca­ tions. Letters were considered a private conversation carried on at a distance. They addressed emotional needs of both author and recipient, reported details of daily living, and were emblematic of personal character, tokens of affection, and family ties (Goldon and Goldon, 2002: 120–124; Wayson, 2013: 32–34). Jefferson expected that, once he assumed national office, he would write a letter each Wednesday; Monticello would receive it on Saturday; one person in the family would answer it on Sunday; and that answer would reach Philadelphia by Tuesday (Thomas Jefferson to Martha Jefferson Randolph, December 1, 1790 = PTJ 18: 110–111). This was a timetable never achieved but always demanded. Yet Jefferson allowed for more freedom in his own content. “Having no particular subject for a letter,” he wrote from Philadelphia in 1792, “I find none more soothing to my mind than to indulge itself in expressions of love I bear you” (Thomas Jefferson to Martha Jefferson Randolph, January 15, 1792 = PTJ 23: 44–45). He pictured a “fireside” without “jarring or jealousies,” no “irregular passions, no d­ angerous bias” (Thomas Jefferson to Martha Jefferson Randolph, Philadelphia, June 8, 1797 = PTJ 29: 424–425). But even this scene away from the political fray was incomplete without his beloved daughter: “The bloom of Monticello is chilled by my solitude,” he complained. “I hope you will write … as nothing is so pleasing during your absence as these proofs of your love. You possess mine in its utmost limits.” That place—Monticello—she confessed, evoked similar feelings: “I never take a view of your solitary fireside but my heart swells” (Thomas Jefferson to Martha Jefferson Randolph, Philadelphia, June 8, 1797 = PTJ

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29: 424–425; Martha Jefferson Randolph to Thomas Jefferson, Varina, March 31, 1797 = PTJ 29: 334). Their letters were filled with language that was associated specifically with what historians have labeled the period’s cul­ ture  of sensibility (Knott, 2009: 50–51; Burstein, 1999: 3–21). The literary genre of the novel, which appeared in the mid‐­ seventeenth century, explored both the lib­ erating force of emotional expression and the destructive consequences of excess (Richardson, 1986). The notion of sensibil­ ity suggested a highly refined awareness of feelings in oneself and others—much like our modern‐day term “empathy” (Barker‐ Benfield, 2010: 50). Martha and her father were sentimentalists using words such as “sympathy,” “compassion,” “pity,” “ten­ derness,” “benevolence,” “wounds,” “pangs,” and “stings” to describe personal feelings (Wayson, 2012: 302, 307). After frequent goodbyes, they relied on the writ­ ten word to express as best they could vis­ ceral, deeply felt affections, to satiate painful longings for reunion, and to envision a hopeful future when they could at last live in peaceful solitude at Monticello. Years together had fashioned an emotional union that Secretary of State Jefferson could draw on as a balm to his own loneliness. Martha was a voice from a private place imagined as the wellspring of personal happiness; her father wrote about a public space in which human relationships were tenuous and infused with suspicion and disloyalty. A decade as mistress of an elite plantation household in which the culture of hospital­ ity and sociability were regularly blended with political agendas prepared Martha well for the service of first lady. Indeed, what Linda Colley has noted about England’s upper‐class women held just as well for women in plantation society. Marriage, social position, and the exercise of hospital­ ity bridged “the gulf between the public and private spheres … social life was an integral part of political life” (Colley, 1992: 52).

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However, a settled plantation community with clearly defined hierarchies, established gender roles, and detailed rules of etiquette was not comparable to Washington City, where a new society and culture were being constructed (Mayo, 2000: 578–579). Partisan political clashes at the time were intense, sometimes physical, and permeated every nook and cranny of society in the capi­ tal (Smelser, 1958; Howe, 1967). Moreover, President Jefferson’s strongly held commit­ ment to equality—instantiated in his dining rituals, informal personal dress, and collabo­ rative administrative practices—in many ways flew in the face of the more layered, restrained, and deferential rituals of his pre­ decessors, when women were participants in first ladies’ levées, formal state dinners, and orderly “morning visits” (Earman, 2000: 250). These issues of protocol, unformed during Jefferson’s administration, amplified and complicated political differences over federal–state relations, war debt, taxation, foreign affairs, and a host of challenging issues critical to the survival of a new nation. Martha was neither wife nor monarch, consort or mistress in this environment, but her private life was enveloped in an evolving political culture that struggled with realign­ ing gender roles for a modern “republic.” All the while, she was isolated physically from the one she loved most and who in turn needed her emotional underpinning. Their imaginary family, as constructed in frequent letters, was an essential alternative to the partisan world Jefferson bemoaned, and helped make political life emotionally tolerable. Martha was his emotional anchor; their letters were a balm that soothed his prickly sensibilities. The Revolution of 1800 In another attempt to fight growing p­olitical discord, Jefferson also used letters to reach out to the family member of a sworn enemy, Alexander Hamilton’s sister in law Angelica

Schuyler Church. They had been social inti­ mates in Paris (Wayson, 2012) and he hoped in 1797 that Angelica’s “affections … will spread themselves over the whole [political] family … leaving party conflict to the rougher sex and to the newspapers” (Thomas Jefferson to Angelica Schuyler Church, Philadelphia, May 24, 1797 = PTJ 29: 396–397). This heartfelt appeal was unsuccessful, because partisanship had become ever more entrenched. Perhaps not the least of Jefferson’s discomforts arose from the confounding of gender roles that such partisanship provoked. “[Y]ou should know the rancorous passions which tear every breast here, even of the sex which should be a stranger to them,” he wrote his daughter. “Politics and party hatreds destroy the happiness of every being here” (Thomas Jefferson to Martha Jefferson Randolph, May 17, 1798 = PTJ 30: 355–356). By the spring of 1798 a threat of armed conflict with the nation’s former ally, France, divided that country’s supporters and e­ nemies in the United States; there also were contentious rumblings for legal restric­ tions on press criticism of government offi­ cials or policies. From atop the dais as Senate president, Jefferson closely monitored debates in favor of legislation that made it seditious to criticize the government. With colleague James Madison he also secretly drafted legislation for Virginia and Kentucky that asserted the right of states to nullify federal legislation (Thomas Jefferson to James Madison, Monticello, August 23, 1799 = PTJ 31: 172–174; to Wilson Cary Nicholas, Monticello, August 26, 1799 = PTJ 30: 177). Despite the “dreary scene,” and perhaps also because Martha’s “gleams of light” in the form of letters sustained him, the vice president was actively planning for the 1800 election, in which he would aggressively counter the “federalist reign of terror”—his label for the actions of Adams’s administra­ tion. Aaron Burr, who eventually became Jefferson’s vice president, visited Monticello



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in May 1798 for consultations (Thomas Jefferson to James Madison, Philadelphia, May 10, 1798 = PTJ 30: 343–345). Ostensibly a non‐candidate for presidency, Jefferson nonetheless secretly forwarded eight dozen political pamphlets that he was “anxious should be generally exhibited” to county committees in Virginia sympathetic to the republican cause (Thomas Jefferson to Philip Norborne Nicholas, Philadelphia, April 7, 1800 = PTJ 31: 485–486). Coordinating with political operatives, secretly influencing state legislatures, and disseminating political screeds were part and parcel of the emerging factionalism that would evolve into the ever more conten­ tious first system of political parties in America. Jefferson was in the thick of it. He wrote home to Martha: “Our scenes here are never pleasant. Our opponents [Federalists] perceive the decay of their power. Still they are pressing it, and trying to pass laws to keep themselves in power” (Thomas Jefferson to Martha Jefferson Randolph, Philadelphia, April 22, 1800 = PTJ 31: 535–536). Political maneuverings were such a “torment” to Jefferson that he changed his social circle by “abandoning the rich, and declining their dinners and parties, and associating entirely with the class of sci­ ence” (Thomas Jefferson to Martha Jefferson Randolph, Philadelphia, February 11, 1800 = PTJ 31: 365–366). Life at home was far from the carefree, untroubled exist­ ence he fantasized it to be, however. Martha was hosting a house full of visitors and cop­ ing with illnesses; all four children were “with colds so bad as to create suspicions of the hooping [sic] cough.” Nonetheless, her father was “tenderly loved and “anxiously expected” to return home soon from his vice presidential duties in Philadelphia (Martha Jefferson Randolph to Thomas Jefferson, Edgehill, May 15, 1800 = PTJ 31: 582–583). In early 1801, awaiting the resolution of the Electoral College vote for president, which had him tied with Aaron Burr,

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Monticello’s patriarch was considering h­imself encircled by “Federalists … of the violent kind,” who were accursed with “bad passions of the heart.” “I long to be in the midst of the children, and have more pleas­ ure in their little follies than in the wisdom of the wise” (Thomas Jefferson to Martha Jefferson Randolph, Washington, January 4, 1801 = PTJ 32: 475). But, after those thirty‐six ballots, the president elect would be staying in Washington, far from Monticello, “that society where all is peace and harmony” (Thomas Jefferson to Martha Jefferson Randolph, Washington, February 5, 1801 = PTJ 32: 556–557). He was s­ addened that this result had opened an unbridgeable chasm with women he had long cherished: his warm associations with the Churches, Abigail Adams, and other prominent women of the federalist stamp were over. But in their place the president elect could envision extended visits to Washington City by Martha, Maria and their children. Culture in Formation As Jefferson took office in 1801, there was a government of the United States, but no “states united”—politically, socially, or cul­ turally. As the bright flame of revolution had flickered before the blustery winds of g­overning, a hodgepodge of values, tradi­ tions, and social rites converged in Washington City. From the first inaugura­ tion ceremony and Martha Washington’s levées to the last formal dinner of Abigail Adams, the first two presidents and their first ladies manifested an acute sensitivity for establishing rituals, artifacts, language, and other cultural practices. Edith Mayo writes: “The Founders thought it important to cre­ ate a distinct American style that reflected the values of the republic” (2000: 578). Such cultural and social dimensions have been increasingly recognized as important alongside the political developments that

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took place in the early republic (Smelser, 1958; Howe, 1967; Freeman, 2001). What emerged was a society and culture much more nuanced and tumultuous than that filtered through Congressional jour­ nals, statutes, or official documents. Matters seeming trivial to the modern eye were c­ontentious in a culture under construction. Thus Congress debated for three days what to call the newly elected head of state, George Washington—”Honourable,” “His Elective Highness,” or “His Highness the President of the United States and Protector of the Rights of Same” (Ferling, 1988: 377). The annual Jockey Club horse races, ­traditional in the South, were held just west of the president’s residence as Congress convened (Breen, 1977). They were a colos­ sal public display of unsettled conditions, political divisions, regional allegiances, and social hierarchy—at least in the opinion of Congressman Manasseh Cutler of New Hampshire. On one side of the course were “carriages of the most respectable people … from the different parts of the Southern and Middle States, and filled principally with ladies” (Cutler and Cutler, 1888, 2: 141). The hurly‐burly infield was filled with “p­eople on horseback, common hacks, and single carriages; a great number of women on horses and many in rich and elegant dress.” More astonishingly, the mêlée com­ ingled “black, and white, and yellow of all conditions from the President of the United States to the beggar in his rags; of all ages and of both sexes” (Cutler and Cutler, 1888, 2: 143). Material culture was in a similar disarray. The façade of Jefferson’s new quarters at the President’s House concealed an unfinished, cavernous interior nearly devoid of furniture and decoration. The sinews tying together the residence, the Capitol, and L’Enfant’s elegant plazas were rutted, muddy trails barely passable after a rainstorm. The social and political scale was intimate as well. Slightly more than 8,100 residents for all of Washington City, Georgetown and

Alexandria were tallied by the 1800 census, and only 130 were employed in the depart­ ments of state, treasury, navy, and justice (Cunningham, 1978: 325–326). Sessions of Congress for just a few months each year met in an unfinished Capitol and would fill the City’s lodgings with about 135 members of Congress, some of their families, and hangers‐on interested in the active social season of balls, morning visits, and dinners (Scott, 2000: 72–73; Earman, 2000: 105– 106; Allgor, 2000: 9–10). A semi‐transient population in a place that is undergoing c­ ultural formation without an acknowl­ edged social structure necessarily searches for meaning in all manner of phenomena, great or small, and sensitivities are c­orrespondingly exaggerated. As M. Smelser (1958: 391) notes, this state of affairs led to “political activity of the … period [being] strongly influenced by the passions of hate, anger and fear.” The p­ oisonous climate was recounted in Jefferson’s letters to Martha with words like “nauseating and intolerable,” “envy, hatred, malice, revenge,” “rancorous passions,” “agitations,” and “discord.” Jefferson, h­owever, was a “subtle and deft politician” (Greenstein, 2006: 380) who would try to temper this climate by consciously adopting casual socializing, informal dress, and a c­ollaborative leadership style, all of which were also meant to separate his republican administration from what he considered the monarchial trappings of his federalist pre­ decessors. Jefferson’s decision to convey “republican” principles of equality, simplic­ ity, and harmony by altering dining and socializing rituals at the President’s House relied on the participation of women to influence the political processes. He recog­ nized that his small assemblages over dinner to build relationships would certainly b­enefit from female conviviality, which could tem­ per any overzealous male disputes. During the 1790s, a cadre of prominent and socially influential women emerged in social cir­ cles around the national government: First



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Lady Martha Washington and future First Lady Dolley Madison; Hannah Nicholson Gallatin, whose congressman husband would be Jefferson’s treasury secretary; Sarah Gales Seaton and Margaret Bayard Smith, both married to newspapermen; and Jefferson’s old friends Angelica Church and Anne Bingham, who graciously managed New York and Philadelphia homes in the fashion of French women’s salons (Brown, 1937: 307). Added to this mix were a few congressional spouses, wives of diplomats, and mothers escorting their marriageable daughters before a herd of accomplished, unattached men. The socially adept and politically savvy wife of an intimate political ally was a perfect choice—temporarily—to act as hostess for a widowed president. Dolley Madison, just four years Patsy’s senior, was practiced in overseeing not only gatherings in the Virginia plantation tradition but also those of the political class in Philadelphia. The Madisons’ stay at the President’s House for a few weeks in the spring of 1801 “enabled [Jefferson] to begin an acquaintance with the ladies of the place, so as to have estab­ lished the precedent of having them at [his] dinners” (Thomas Jefferson to Martha Jefferson Randolph, Washington, May 28, 1801 = PTJ 34: 200–201). Jefferson contin­ ued to press Martha and Maria for a visit as well; the City’s society matrons would be “very happy” to have either of the daughters always with him (Thomas Jefferson to Maria Jefferson Eppes, Washington, May 28, 1801 = PTJ 34: 196). He emphasized this with Martha’s husband, too (Thomas Jefferson to Thomas Mann Randolph, Washington, May 14, 1801 = PTJ 34: 110–111). The persistence and urgency of Jefferson’s pleas were in part driven by the emotional stress of separation; but the president also needed the presence of women to effect his political tactics, as evidenced by his entreat­ ies to Dolley Madison, her sister, and others. Sometimes he used a formal, third‐person voice: “Thomas Jefferson begs that either Mrs. Madison or Miss Payne be so good as

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to dine with him to‐day, to take care of female friends expected” (Thomas Jefferson to James and Dolley Madison and Anna Payne, May 27, 1801 = PTJ 34:192. And the next day to Martha: “future visits will be awkward, with the Madison’s leaving for their own quarters” (Thomas Jefferson to Martha Jefferson Randolph, Washington, May 28, 1801 = PTJ 34: 200–201). The president needed replacements and expected both daughters to be with him: “Our society here is anxious for it. I promise them that one of you will hereafter pass the spring here, & the other the fall” (Thomas Jefferson to Maria Jefferson Eppes, Washington, June 24, 1801 = PTJ 34: 428–429). Jefferson clearly had a design to involve women in his intimate dinners to lessen the prospect of unseemly, discordant behavior by male p­ oliticians and, by involving women, he gave status of a different kind to their i­nfluence on governmental affairs. There were myriad practical considera­ tions that prevented either Martha or Maria from filling the void in their father’s official household, if not in his heart. Martha had children’s illnesses and other challenges to deal with in her own household; she was a month pregnant and still nursing her fourth child, Cornelia. Maria, meanwhile, was pregnant with her second child, who was born in September. Martha expressed her loneliness: My affections my thoughts are however perpetually with you, incessantly hovering over you, there is no scene in your solitary establishment in which they have not v­isited you, … [T]he time is at hand when everything will be forgotten in a blest reunion of … those we most love … at Monticello. (Martha Jefferson Randolph to Thomas Jefferson, Edgehill, June 19, 1801 = PTJ 34: 389–399)

Despite her fervent hopes, she and her sister simply were too preoccupied with more immediate concerns than pleasing either

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their father or Washington’s ladies. So was the president, by that time. “We are hunting out and abolishing mul­ titudes of useless offices, striking off jobs &c. &c.,” Jefferson wrote to son‐in‐law Mann Randolph, whose brother‐in‐law was included in the purge (Thomas Jefferson to Thomas Mann Randolph, Jr., Washington, 18 June 1801 = PTJ 34: 385–386). In addi­ tion, the administration was treating with the “Southern Indians” and ordering a squadron to the Mediterranean, for protec­ tion against the Barbary pirates (Thomas Jefferson to Thomas Mann Randolph, Jr., Washington, 27 July 1801 = PTJ 34: 649). Little wonder that, by late November, the president’s “business” was so “intense” he could barely “spare a moment” to write to dearest Martha (Thomas Jefferson to Martha Jefferson Randolph, Washington, November 27, 1801 = PTJ 35: 735). Still, the president did hold receptions to celebrate July 4th and to welcome the New Year in 1802. At the latter he treated a group of federalist legislators to a view of the “m­ammoth cheese” prominently d­isplayed at the President’s House, thus demonstrating just how social events could convey political messages. This unusual memorial—a 1,200 pound, four‐feet round hunk from a group of Bay State Baptist “Freeborn Farmers” and their wives and daughters—represented to Jefferson “an ebullition of the passion of republicanism in a state [Massachusetts] where it has been under heavy persecution” (Thomas Jefferson to Thomas Mann Randolph, Jr. and John Wayles Eppes, Washington, January 1, 1802 = PTJ 36: 261 and 263). For federalist Congressman and Reverend Cutler, the cheese stench of the East Room symbolized a “monument of human weakness and folly” from a “poor, ignorant, illiterate, clownish preacher” (Cutler and Cutler, 1888, 2: 55, 58–59, 66). These malleable interpretations showed the formative status of Washington City culture and the social diversity that ranged north to south, east to west across the states.

Events throughout 1802 shattered the illusion of peaceful domesticity atop Monticello Mountain—a vision that had served for Jefferson to ameliorate the e­motional effects of political treachery and deceitfulness. Against the backdrop of her father’s insisting that she visit Washington, Martha’s husband abruptly announced in March a plan to move the enslaved families in his service to a Mississippi cotton planta­ tion in pursuit of “more profitable employ­ ment” (Thomas Mann Randolph, Jr. to Thomas Jefferson, Edgehill, March 6, 1802 = PTJ 37: 14–16). Jefferson did not d­iscourage this adventure and even helped with its arrangements. Meanwhile measles were raging across Monticello Mountain that summer, threat­ ening Martha’s children; Maria’s baby Francis was suffering “constant fevers” and she was “in a weak state of health” from nursing (Martha Jefferson Randolph to Thomas Jefferson, Edgehill, July 10, 1802 = PTJ 38: 50; Maria Jefferson Eppes to Thomas Jefferson, Eppington, June 21, 1802 = PTJ 37: 647). Nonetheless, the president’s resolve to have his daughters’ visit did not lessen, and he proceeded to describe for Martha a detailed itinerary with commentary on roads, food, and lodging along the way: “a good tavern, but cold victuals on the road will be better”; “here you ford the Rapidan”; “stop here … to feed your horses”; “very decent house and respectable people” (Thomas Jefferson to Martha Jefferson Randolph, Washington, June 3, 1802 = PTJ 37: 533–535). There was also the matter of appropriate dress for such a visit. Despite the homespun image of Jefferson and his followers, imitat­ ing Paris fashion was becoming the rage in Washington society, as if power and décolle­ tage were inseparable. Attending a Washington soirée on New Year’s Day, 1801, Margaret Bayard Smith saw “a lady, too, who afforded us great diversion, I titled her, Madam Eve, and called her dress the fig leaf” (Margaret Bayard Smith to Susan



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Bayard Smith, January 1, 1801 = Smith, 1906: 18–19). Sixteen‐year‐old Patsy had been outfitted elegantly for Paris society in 1789; however, ten years on a plantation in rural Virginia did not prepare her for what some considered the outrageously immod­ est dress of Washington City’s women. In October Martha was still uncertain of her plans, but asked that Mrs. Madison should have made in Philadelphia “2 wigs the color of the hair enclosed and of the most fashion­ able shapes.” The sisters were not “adepts” at dressing their own hair (Martha Jefferson Randolph to Thomas Jefferson, October 29, 1802 = Betts and Bear, 1986: 238). Meanwhile, in September 1802, when congressional elections were imminent, Jefferson’s beloved Monticello manse became the site of salacious stories, fueled by political revenge. Newspaper accounts began appearing in Richmond’s Recorder of Jefferson’s alleged ongoing liaison with enslaved Sally Hemings, the mixed‐race daughter of Jefferson’s father‐in‐law; and accounts also reported on an impropriety committed many years earlier with Elizabeth Walker, a neighbor’s wife. James Callender— editor, erstwhile Jefferson supporter, and rejected office seeker—published four arti­ cles on these juicy items and crowned them with a December piece that celebrated the story’s wide distribution in other papers (Malone, 1970: 206–223; Gordon‐Reed, 1997: 59–62). Family unity was further clouded in late October, when Randolph’s more likely motivation for moving his enslaved workers to Mississippi was revealed in a plaintive and emotional disclosure to Monticello’s patri­ arch. As for the “narrow circle of your f­amily,” he wrote, “I am so essentially & widely different from all within it, as to look like something extraneous, fallen in by acci­ dent and destroying the homogeneity”— like “a silly bird … in the company of Swans” (Thomas Mann Randolph, Jr. to Thomas Jefferson, Edgehill, October 29, 1802 = PTJ, 38: 601–602). Accompanying this

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letter was a note from Martha assuring her father that she was “preparing with all speed” for a visit to Washington City. Certainly her presence in the President’s House might burnish the fading image of domestic harmony at home. “A Flying Visit” “Three easy travel days” had stretched to two years before Martha and Maria could arrange their personal affairs to make a “f­lying visit” from mid‐November 1802 to January 5, 1803. Maria’s fourteen‐month‐ old son, Francis, Martha’s Jeff, now aged ten, and her daughter Anne, nearly twelve, accompanied their mothers on a trip of some eighty miles. Once they had arrived, the sis­ ters plunged into Washington’s social circles and their father’s political theater at the beginning of his “winter campaign,” in con­ junction with the congressional session. Over the next seven weeks the sisters experi­ enced a whirlwind of social events, including balls near the Capitol and in Georgetown, church services in the House of Representatives’ chamber, and Jockey Club races (Bear and Stanton, 1997: 1087–1089; Cutler and Cutler, 1888, 2: 116). An intense round of morning visits and introductions to scores of dinner guests rounded out their exposure to Washington society and politics. Over a period coterminous with his daughters’ six‐week visit, Jefferson served almost 470 meals (Bear and Stanton, 1997, 2: 1087–1090). In one twelve‐day period alone, fifty bottles of champagne were c­onsumed by 125 “gentlemen” (Bear and Stanton, 1997, 2: 1089). This arduous gambit of many informal dinners drew his daughters directly into political affairs. The first twelve dinner guests Martha and Maria met in the president’s 1802– 1803 “winter campaign” were from a f­ ederalist billet and included the afore­ mentioned Congressman Cutler, who jotted in his j­ournal of Mmes. Randolph

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and Eppes: “They appeared well‐accom­ plished women—very delicate and tolera­ bly  handsome.” The New Hampshire Federalist was not averse to taking a­dvantage of a social occasion to advance his political agenda. He flaunted a fine “specimen of wadding for ladies’ cloaks” from a factory in his state (Cutler and Cutler, 1888, 2: 113). A few weeks later Martha and Maria were attending the president’s annual New Year reception in the octagon hall. Present was “a large company of ladies and gentlemen,” which included Federalists, Democrats, Cabinet members, and diplomats. The female guests were recruited by the presi­ dent for a bit of political theater when he called on them to judge the quality of Cutler’s wadding. The cloth samples “afforded the ladies much satisfaction,” Cutler recalled. “[T]heir fertile imaginations suggested a great number of uses,” while the items “were pronounced much preferable and cheaper than that imported from Europe” (Cutler and Cutler, 1888, 2: 114–115). Jefferson had cleverly hidden his personal opinion on domestic textile manufacturing under the cloak of women’s judgments and avoided the appearance of furthering a political oppo­ nent’s commercial interests. Jefferson later purchased $100 worth of Cutler’s bed ticking for Monticello plantation! (Cutler and Cutler, 1888, 2: 116). The president considered a stinking hunk of cheese created by farmers, their wives and daughters symbolic of “the passion of republicanism” in Federalist‐dominated Massachusetts. This gave New Hampshire’s federalist Congressman Cutler social license to throw out a scrap of textile that boasted the superiority of neighboring New Hampshire’s manufacturing. Two wily and politically savvy gentlemen used a social s­etting to convey their conflicting political values. But it was Jefferson who cleverly used the presence of women to deflect direct confrontation and maybe—just maybe—to promote the “harmony and mutual

confidence” he claimed were the purpose of such gatherings. The ritual of morning visits among promi­ nent women in Washington City was only slightly less political than events at the President’s House. The practice not only served to cement a network of women but also created a source of potentially useful political gossip and subtle influence. As First Lady Abigail Adams wrote to her sister: “If a woman does not hold the reigns [sic] of g­ overnment, I see no reason for her not judging how they are conducted” (quoted in Roberts, 2004: 17). The accomplishments and delicacy observed by Manasseh Cutler in the president’s daughters were projected into private drawing rooms as well. Margaret Bayard Smith, an ardent Jeffersonian and the wife of newspaper e­ditor Samuel Harrison Smith, reported to her sister: “Mrs. [Maria Jefferson] Eppes is beautiful, simplicity and timidity personified when in company, but when alone with you of communicative and winning manners.” Martha, on the other hand, was “rather homely, a delicate likeness of her father, but still more interesting than Mrs. E.” Margaret Smith went on to describe, in Martha, a “countenance beaming with intelligence, benevolence and sensibility”; “manners so frank and affectionate”; and recalled being “perfectly at ease with her” (Margaret Bayard Smith to Susan Bayard Smith, December 26, 1802 = Smith, 1906: 34–35). Rituals require artifacts, whether cheese or wadding, that distinguish their practice; morning visits were no exception in the manner of women’s dress. Descending necklines, ascending waists, and diaphanous gowns in Parisian style (Earman, 2000: 102) stirred the gossip but remained a feature of public events. Elizabeth Merry, wife of the British ambassador, displayed her diamonds on “a bare bosom,” Margaret Smith reported (Margaret Bayard Smith to Jane Bayard Kirkpatrick, January 23, 1804 = Smith, 1906: 45). Rosalie Stier Calvert, too, noted that Elizabeth Merry was “very fat



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and covers only with fine lace two objects which could fill a fourth of a bushel” (Rosalie Stier Calvert to Mme. H. J. Stier, December 29, 1803 = Callcott, 1991: 77). Martha recognized that visitations in private homes required more modest dress: “a set of combs for dressing the hair, a bonnet, shawl and white lace veil, for paying m­orning visits” (Martha Jefferson Randolph to Thomas Jefferson, October 26, 1805 = Betts and Bear, 1986: 280). A “Most Disastrous Journey” All too soon, it was time to return. On January 5 Martha and her sister crossed to Virginia on the Georgetown Ferry, leaving behind the hustle‐bustle of visits, dinners, and partisan maneuvering. It was a “most disastrous journey,” Maria reported, but more distressing were a “depression of s­pirits felt on leaving” and heartache from the “recollection of the heavy expense” (Maria Jefferson Eppes to Thomas Jefferson, Edgehill, January 11, 1803 = Betts and Bear, 1986: 240). Debt was a sensitive m­ atter in the Jefferson–Randolph house­ hold and a recurring lament in family letters. The president calculated that his munificent salary of $25,000 would enable the settle­ ment of all creditors by the end of his term in 1805, but the expenses at the President’s House, piling as they did on top of planta­ tion shortfalls, were clearly outstripping income from all sources by 1803. Both pres­ ident and patriarch ended the first year in office an additional $4,361 in debt. Official expenses included $2,700 for servants, along with $6,500 for food and provisions and $2,800 for wines (Bear and Stanton, 1997: 1067–1068). Family, political duty, and expenses became even more entangled in March 1803, when Martha’s husband was elected to Congress with a mere thirteen votes over a loyal Jefferson ally. She was pregnant with her seventh child and coping with children’s

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lessons and serious illnesses, as well as with her own nagging fatigue. Yet in late April her father insisted: “It is now time for you to let me know when you expect to be able to set out for Washington” (Thomas Jefferson to Martha Jefferson Randolph, Washington, April 23, 1803 = Betts and Bear, 1986: 244). He was asking her to come to a place that would be “immersed in the usual bickering,” the president still struggling with Federalists who have “little talent … but as much gall at least as those who are wicked and impotent” (Thomas Jefferson to Martha Jefferson Randolph, Washington, November 7, 1803 = Betts and Bear, 1986: 248–249). But Jefferson, too, could be provocative with his principles. The president’s intimate (and expensive) dinners with congressmen had the instru­ mental purpose of encouraging “harmoni­ ous” relations between individuals; however, other social practices were intended to d­ ramatically symbolize republican ideals, and they proved shocking to some. Jefferson had chosen to have guests at his many d­inners mingle informally for conversation; then they would enter the dining room p­ell‐ mell, to sit where they could, without regard for rank in the diplomatic corps, Cabinet, or society. He confided to Martha that his s­ ubtle motive was to counter the aristo­ cratic, federalist practices of levée and formal dining in the European manner adopted by his predecessors, demonstrating instead “our principles of the equality of all persons meeting together in society” (Thomas Jefferson to Martha Jefferson Randolph, January 23, 1804 = Betts and Bear, 1986: 255). Such changes carried political risks in an evolving, contested culture and in the unsettled society of the nation’s new capital city. The aristocratic pretensions of British Ambassador Anthony Merry and his wife Elizabeth were thus offended when on December 2, 1803, the president chose to escort to the table Dolley Madison rather than the envoy’s consort (Malone, 1970: 376–391). Jefferson’s political statement

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and social peccadillo became a political causa celebris taken up by the Federalists, trumpeted by federalist papers, and sus­ tained for months with a boycott of official social events by a few from the diplomatic corps. “I rejoice you were not here,” he assured Martha following the pell‐mell imbroglio. The brunt of the battle now falls on the [Cabinet] Secretary’s ladies, who are dragged in the dirt of every federal paper. You would have been the victims had you been here, and butchered the more blood­ ily as they would hope it would be more felt by myself. (Thomas Jefferson to Martha Jefferson Randolph, Washington, January 23, 1804 = Betts and Bear, 1986: 254–255)

It was Martha safely away at Monticello who continued to hurl “gleams of light” to brighten her father’s dark depression: “[N]o subject on earth is or ever can be so dear and interesting to me” as you, she wrote. A dearest daughter pledged to “not feel a scruple in sacrificing” any other of her f­amily duties that might interfere with her devotion to him. Letters were no longer sufficient to  give expression to her affections: “No pen on earth can do justice to the feelings of my heart” (Martha Jefferson Randolph to Thomas Jefferson, Edgehill, May 31, 1804 = Betts and Bear, 1986: 260–261). Yet the “unlimited calumnies of the Federalists” would force Jefferson to stand for reelection and stay in the “political turmoil,” even as he yearned “to retire into the bosom of my family, the only scene of sincere and pure happiness” (Thomas Jefferson to Martha Jefferson Randolph, Washington, November 6, 1804 = Betts and Bear, 1986: 263). Jefferson was reelected, and the Washington society he had enjoyed in 1801 and relentlessly encouraged Martha and Maria to attend was now “remarkably dull” by December 1804, as he awaited a second inaugural. There were “very few ladies” and no actors for the theatre. “You are happy to

need none of these aids to get rid of your time and certainly they are poor substitutes for the sublime enjoyment of the affections of our children and of our cares for them,” he wrote (Thomas Jefferson to Martha Jefferson Randolph, Washington, December 1804 = Betts and Bear, 1986: 265). But all was not so sublime for the family. Martha experienced her first “hysteric fit” and thought she was “dying whilst in it” (Martha to Thomas Jefferson, February 28, 1805 = Betts and Bear, 1986: 268). Jefferson’s impropriety with a neighbor’s wife in the 1760s and the allegations that he had fathered children with the enslaved Sally Hemings resurfaced as grist for political grinders. In July he admitted to the former; he remained silent on the latter. Deposed Vice President Aaron Burr began a tour of the West; Jefferson suspected him of fomenting an invasion of Spanish territory with designs to become “emperor” of the trans‐Appalachian region. Napoleon was marauding through Europe, adding k­indling to the fiery denunciations of Jefferson’s sup­ posed Francophilia. Upstairs, meanwhile, the President’s House had been improved and furniture added that would accommo­ date Martha’s bringing the “the whole f­amily.” Her father promised to host fewer political dinners and “to live more in a f­amily way” (Thomas Jefferson to Martha Jefferson Randolph, Washington, May 6, 1805 = Betts and Bear, 1986: 270). On December 2, 1805, Martha arrived for her second visit at the President’s House with six children in tow and accompanied by newly reelected Congressman Randolph. Just seven weeks later, on January 16, 1806, their eighth child was born and named in honor of James Madison. She had not looked forward to this Washington reunion any more than the “flying visit” years before. “[M]y courage shrinks from the horrors of … [childbirth] under the most favorable c­ircumstances,” she fearfully wrote a month before leaving home, “but rendered i­nfinitely more so in this instance from the



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uncertainty of my accustomed medical aid and the want of a female friend” (Martha Jefferson Randolph to Thomas Jefferson, Edgehill, October 26, 1805 = Betts and Bear, 1986: 280). Once Martha was drawn into her father’s political vortex, there was little rest, as the “winter campaign” for influencing Congress commenced in earnest. On December 3 Martha’s family had the pleasure of dining with nine Republicans from the Senate and House, as well as with the poet, diplomat, and businessman Joel Barlow. Political e­xigencies and Jefferson’s personal style of influence continued to require frequent din­ ners for the balance of Martha’s stay. A week after this dinner, the Monticello contingent experienced a more exotic assembly—with Tunisia’s envoy Sidi Suleiman Melli Melli and his two aides. Subsequent dinner guests included, from Louisiana Territory, chiefs representing Cherokee, Chickasaw, and Osage tribes, accompanied by their female companions; from the Cabinet, Secretaries Gallatin, Dearborne, and Madison along with their relatives; and, from society, news­ paperman Samuel Smith, wife Margaret and William Thornton, the architect of the Capitol. Starting with Martha’s arrival and until her departure at the end of April 1806, seventy‐five dinners and two thousand meals were served to seven hundred and fifty guests requiring seven thousand pounds of meat, one thousand and four hundred eggs, and an unreported flood of wine (Bear and Stanton, 1997, 2: 1169–1178). By 1809 the president’s financial accounts were in deficit by $9,000, covered by loans from Washington banks. Busy with her new baby and other six children, Martha took a lim­ ited role in hosting these affairs and appears on only a few of the guest lists. Five months together with family and cel­ ebrating its newest addition did not satisfy grandpapa’s emotional needs for too long after the daughters left. Two days following his annual July 4th reception in 1806, he grumbled to Martha: “Absence from you

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becomes every day more and more i­ nsupportable and my confinement here more disgusting. … [T]he day of retirement will be the happiest … and it will restore me to those domestic scenes where alone I can be happy” (Thomas Jefferson to Martha Jefferson Randolph, July 6, 1806 = Betts and Bear, 1986: 288). Aaron Burr c­ontinued making menacing overtures with a proto‐ military force. Son‐in‐law Mann Randolph threatened a duel with his cousin, House Speaker John Randolph of Roanoke, as a result of comments made in a congressional debate. Republican ranks split to oppose the president’s initiative countering unfriendly actions by England and France with an embargo on their imports. A New England cabal was rumbling about secession from the Union, as its shipping and trade were threatened. It was precisely the whipsaw of emotions that alternated between the “soft affections” of Martha’s company and the “fiery passions” of political contention that wore on Jefferson’s sensibilities. “I look over the two ensuing years as the most t­ edious of my life” (Thomas Jefferson to Martha Jefferson Randolph, Washington, October 20, 1806 = Betts and Bear, 1986: 289). But he never again wrote to press his first daughter to visit this gloomy scene. The next two years of Jefferson’s presi­ dency would fill Martha with an “anxiety” that could only be relieved by a reunion “followed by no separation.” When that time came, her “first and most important” priority, she pledged to her father, would be “the dear and sacred duty of nursing and cheering your old age by every endearment of filial tenderness.” What for eight years she could only do from afar or from brief stays in Washington City would now be f­ ulfilled at Monticello. “My fancy dwells with rapture upon your image seated by your own fire side”—a “harbor from the cares and storms of life” (Martha Jefferson Randolph to Thomas Jefferson, Edgehill, March 20, 1807 = Betts and Bear, 1986: 302–303). But these times were still far off

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and would be shrouded in a pall of growing political divisiveness and declining financial well‐being. “I am tired of a life of conten­ tion, and … being the object of hatred,” Martha’s sixty‐four‐year‐old father admit­ ted. “I long to be among you where I know nothing but love and delight” (Thomas Jefferson to Martha Jefferson Randolph, Washington, November 23, 1807 = Betts and Bear, 1986: 315–316). He also worried about “the gloomy prospect of retiring from office loaded with serious debts” that had not been paid from his $25,000 salary (Thomas Jefferson to Martha Jefferson Randolph, Washington, January 5, 1808 = Betts and Bear, 1986: 319). “[Y]our last letter has cast a gloom over my  s­pirits that I cannot shake off,” Martha replied, arguing that there was no way to pay debts and live solely from crops raised on a plantation. She urged him to sell her dowry lands and “not to think of the c­ hildren, your happiness is alone to be c­onsidered” (Martha to Thomas Jefferson, Edgehill, January 16, 1808 = Betts and Bear, 1986: 322–323). As she awaited the end of his second term and their reunion, she wrote: “my heart beats with inexpressible anxiety and impa­ tience” (Martha Jefferson Randolph to Thomas Jefferson, Edgehill, February 17, 1809 = Betts and Bear, 1986: 382–382). In 1809, at last, Martha and her children left their home at the foot of the mountain to become permanent residents of her father’s Monticello. Until his death in 1826, they would share their life, their debts, and their sentiments of deep attachment at the place where they had longed to be united for so many years. Though her father cautioned her about “the troubles” that their strait­ ened financial circumstances would bring them, Martha’s commitment was clear: “Your comfort My Dearest Father must however be the only criterion. … I conjure you by the Dear [&] the sacred tie that unites us to make your arrangements … and we shall all be happy” (Thomas Jefferson to

Martha Jefferson Randolph, Washington, February 27, 1809 = Betts and Bear, 1986: 385–386; Martha Jefferson Randolph to Thomas Jefferson, March 2, 1809 = Betts and Bear, 1986: 386–387). After all, h­appiness was their inherent right. After 1809 Thomas Mann Randolph— financially ruined and increasingly alienated from the “Swans” in that “narrow circle of family”—was coming to the mountaintop as a visitor from his own plantation, until the latter was sold for debt repayment in 1826. Following his death in 1828, Martha noted to her daughter: “[N]o longer an object of terror or apprehension, he became one of deep sympathy. … [N]or was the void occa­ sioned by his loss long perceptible” (Wayson, 2013: 255–256). Martha drew upon her personal relation­ ships with friends and sometimes near‐ acquaintances to provide for the exigencies of five school‐age children and three grown daughters, all of whom had been raised in the Monticello enclave. Especially signifi­ cant for her was Margaret Smith’s interven­ tion to secure her son‐in‐law Nicholas Trist a job with Secretary of State Henry Clay in John Quincy Adams’s administration. The appointment would enable Martha to finally leave the rural neighborhood of her lost home. Her father now gone, she returned to the customs learned during her earlier “flying visit” and her five‐month stay in Washington City, including many visits and parties. “[A]gain I shall be a mistress of a home, though a rented one,” Martha informed Nancy Morris, her wealthy sister‐ in‐law, “and where I have to learn the art of supporting a large family in genteel society, upon very limited means” (Martha Jefferson Randolph to Anne [Nancy] Cary Randolph Morris, Edgehill, September 6, 1829 = Looney, 2014 [henceforth FLDA]). Of course, her Washington City home could not compare to Monticello’s man­ sion, but its two stories, eleven rooms, and expansive grounds were in a “good & even fashionable” neighborhood, with



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diplomatic envoys and government officials nearby (Martha Jefferson Randolph to Ellen W. Randolph Coolidge, Washington, March 7, 1832 = FLDA). For decades Martha and her father had anchored their affections at a place— Monticello—so it was not surprising that even a busy social calendar in Washington could not wholly compensate for the loss she felt. “We do not feel at home yet, and our thoughts and hearts are often with you taking our seat at your chearful fire side,” Martha wrote to son Jeff, who lived at the foot of Monticello Mountain on the Edgehill plantation formerly owned by his parents, “but I believe that I have upon the whole done for the best.” She stoically cal­ culated that, in the capital, her family can “live cheaper than in Virginia, and … enjoy society without expense.” She was relying on income from the $20,000 generously donated by Louisiana and South Carolina for her expenses and old debts (Martha Jefferson Randolph to Thomas Jefferson Randolph, Washington, February 7, 1830 = FLDA). The actors may have changed in Washington, but the social turmoil swirling around women was not much different. President Jackson’s niece and White House hostess, Emily Donelson, was affronted by the alleged extramarital affair and subse­ quent marriage of War Secretary John Eaton to the daughter of a boardinghouse owner. Newlywed Peggy Eaton was shunned by the president’s hostess, while her uncle Andrew stood resolute and almost alone behind Peggy; the uproar was tagged a “petticoat affair.” It was not unlike the furor over Mrs. Merry’s revealing dress or her outrage at Jefferson’s dining practices— just more salacious. Now, Martha could take pleasure in being an observer of the political vortex and vicariously enjoy the more energetic social occasions. As she approached her sixtieth birthday, she told her daughter about a “fancy ball” that engaged every tailor and mantua maker; it

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was to be “one of the most brilliant parties that was [sic] ever given in Washington” and the “first one ever attempted” where “all must appear in character” (Martha Jefferson Randolph to Ellen W. Randolph Coolidge, Washington, March 7, 1832 = FLDA). Conclusion Martha Jefferson Randolph died in her son’s house at the foot of Monticello Mountain, within sight of the lost home she had once cherished. Her fate as a first daughter was not unlike that of many accomplished women in the decades f­ollowing the Revolution. Daughter Ellen’s melancholic remembrance, after Martha’s death in 1836, shines light on women’s s­ tatus and on Martha’s legacy—a legacy shrouded by the cultural imperatives of their time: She has passed away and the world has not known her. She has left no memorial but in the recollection of her friends & the hearts of her children. … A few short years and perhaps all record, all remembrance of her name, her qualities will be gone, lost like so much else of what is best worth preserving. (Birle and Francavilla, 2011: 160)

Until only recently, historians have left Martha’s story hidden in the long shadow cast by her iconic father, her contributions to  his political life also “lost like so much else … worth preserving” (Kierner, 2012; see also Wayson, 2013). By contrast, the biogra­ phies of the two first ladies who respectively preceded and succeeded Martha—Abigail Adams and Dolley Madison—are so striking precisely because they were so unusual. The nation’s continuing return to their stories and genuine fascination with the contribu­ tions they made to our collective narrative are testimony to the unique positions they  held, whether inside or outside the President’s House.

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Because Martha was not a president’s wife, her contributions to the nation’s early years were not scintillating dinners, elegant levées, or political confidences. And for this reason President Jefferson—the sentimen­ talist—could not retire to the intimacy of his quarters in Washington City and ponder the day’s events, or softly discuss tomorrow’s plans over after‐dinner tea. Rather his r­efuge was a solitary study where a pointed nib waited to empty pulsating emotions onto a missile hurled south in the care of indiffer­ ent couriers past prying eyes to a beloved daughter who anxiously awaited words of connection, notes of affection. Just three easy days’ journey away, the first daughter pined for his return, despaired her father’s condition, and took up his words into her heart until it could no longer put her abid­ ing devotion onto paper. Perhaps her friend Margaret Smith—keen observer of people and events—said it best when visiting a d­erelict Monticello in 1828: “She unites a strong and highly cultivated intellect, with a soft, tender heart and a frank, commu­ nicative disposition” (Margaret Bayard Smith to Susan Bayard Boyd, August 12, 1828 = Smith, 1906: 232). Martha had just the qualities a first daughter needed to n­ urture both a president’s heart and a p­resident’s head.

References Allgor, C. 2000. Parlor Politics in Which the Ladies of Washington Help Build a City and a Government. Charlottesville, VA: University Press of Virginia. Barker‐Benfield, G. J. 2010. Abigail and John Adams: The Americanization of Sensibility. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. (Kindle edition.) Bear, J. A., Jr., and L. C. Stanton, eds. 1997. Jefferson’s Memorandum Books. (The Papers of Thomas Jefferson, Second Series.) Princeton: Princeton University Press. Betts, E. M., and J. A. Bear, eds. 1986. The Family Letters of Thomas Jefferson. Charlottesville: University Press of Virginia.

Birle, A. L., and L. A. Francavilla, eds. 2011. Thomas Jefferson’s Granddaughter in Queen Victoria’s England. Boston: Massachusetts Historical Society and Thomas Jefferson Foundation. Boyd, J. P., L. H. Butterfield, M. R. Bryan, F. Aandahl, J. H. Harrison, Jr., W. H. Gaines, Jr., A. L. Bush, L. Wilderding, Jr., R. W. Lester, C. T. Cullen, et al., eds. 1950–. The Papers of Thomas Jefferson. Princeton: Princeton University Press. [= PTJ] Breen, T. H. 1977. “Horses and Gentlemen: The Cultural Significance of Gambling among the Gentry of Virginia.” William and Mary Quarterly (3rd series) 34: 240–257. Brown, M. L. 1937. “Mr. and Mrs. William Bingham of Philadelphia: Rulers of the Republican Court.” The Pennsylvania Magazine of History and Biography 61 (3): 286–324. Burstein, A. 1999. Sentimental Democracy. New York: Hill and Wang. Callcott, M. L., ed. 1991. Mistress of Riversdale: The Plantation Letters of Rosalie Stier Calvert, 1795–1821. Baltimore, MD: Johns Hopkins University Press. Cohen, J. E. 2000. “‘The Polls’: Public Attitudes toward the First Lady.” Presidential Studies Quarterly 30 (2): 374–381. Colley, L. 1992. “Women and Political Power.” The Wilson Quarterly 16 (2): 50–58. Cunningham, N. E. J. 1978. The Process of Government Under Jefferson. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Cutler, W. P., and J. P. Cutler, eds. 1888. Life, Journals and Correspondence of Rev. Manassesh Cutler, L.L.D. Cincinnati, OH: Robert Clarke. Earman, C. D. 2000. “Remembering the Ladies: Women, Etiquette, and Diversions in Washington City.” Washington History 12 (1): 102–117. Ferling, J. E. 1988. The First of Men: A Life of George Washington. New York: Oxford University Press. Freeman, J. B. 2001. Affairs of Honor: National Politics in the New Republic. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press. Goldon, J. L., and A. L. Goldon. 2002. Thomas Jefferson and the Rhetoric of Virtue. Lanham, MD: Rowman & Littlefield. Goodman, D. 1989. “Enlightenment Salons: The Convergence of Female and Philosophic Ambitions.” Eighteenth‐Century Studies 22 (3): 329–350.



m a rt h a j e f f e r s o n r a n d o l p h , f i r s t   d a u g h t e r

Greenstein, F. I. 2006. “Presidential Difference in the Early Republic: The Highly Disparate Leadership Styles of Washington.” Presidential Studies Quarterly 36 (3): 373–390. Howe, J. R. 1967. “Republican Thought and the Political Violence of the 1790s.” American Quarterly 19 (2): 147–165. Looney, J. J. 2014. Family Letters Digital Archive. Papers of Thomas Jefferson Retirement Series Digital Archive, Charlottesville, VA: Thomas Jefferson Foundation, Inc. http://retirementseries. dataformat.com (accessed October 20, 2015). [= FLDA]. Kerber, L. K. 1980. Women of the Republic: Intellect and Ideology in Revolutionary America. Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press. Kierner, C. A. 2012. Martha Jefferson Randolph, Daughter of Monticello: Her Life and Times. Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press. Knott, S. 2009. Sensibility and the American Revolution. Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press. Lewis, J. 1987. “The Republican Wife: Virtue and Seduction in the Early Republic.” The William and Mary Quarterly (3rd series) 44 (4): 689–721. Madison, D. P. T. 2014. The Dolley Madison Digital Edition, edited by H. C. Shulman. Charlottesville, VA: Rotunda Press. http:// rotunda.upress.virginia.edu/dmde (accessed November 11, 2013; subscription service). [= DMDE] Malone, D. 1970. Jefferson the President: First Term, 1801–1805. Boston: Little, Brown. Malone, D. 1974. Jefferson the President: Second Term, 1805–1809. Boston: Little, Brown. Mayo, E. P. 2000. “Party Politics: The Political Impact of the First Ladies’ Social Role.” The Social Science Journal 34 (4): 577–590. Randolph, S. N. 1877. “Mrs. T. M. Randolph.” In Mrs. O. J. Wister and M. A. Irwin, Worthy Women of Our First Century, 9–70. Philadelphia, PA: B. Lippincott & Co. Roberts, J. B. B. 2004. Rating the First Ladies: The Women who Influenced the Presidency. New York: Citadel. Richardson, S. 1986 [1747–1748]. Clarissa: Or the History of a Young Lady, edited by Angus Ross. London: Penguin Books. Scharff, V. 2010. The Women Jefferson Loved. New York: HarperCollins.

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Scott, P. 2000. “Moving to the Seat of Government: ‘Temporary Inconveniences and  Privations.’” Washington History 12 (1): 70–73. Smelser, M. 1958. “The Federalist Period as an Age of Passion.” American Quarterly 10 (4): 391–419. Smith, M. B. 1906. The First Forty Years of Washington Society, Portrayed by the Family Letters of Mrs. Samuel Harrison Smith (Margaret Bayard) from the Collection of Her Grandson, J. Henley Smith. New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons. Watson, R. P. 1997. “The First Lady Reconsidered: Presidential Partner and Political Institution.” Presidential Studies Quarterly 27 (4): 805–818. Watson, R. P. 2001. “‘White Glove Pulpit’: A History of Policy Influence by First Ladies.” OAH Magazine of History 15 (3): 9–14. Wayson, B. L. 2010. “‘Considerably different … for her sex’: A Reading Plan for Martha Jefferson.” In The Libraries, Leadership and Legacy of John Adams and Thomas Jefferson, edited by R. C. Baron and C. E. Wright, 133–155. Golden, CO: Fulcrum Publishing. Wayson, B. L. 2012. “Thomas Jefferson and Affairs of the Heart.” In A Companion to Thomas Jefferson, edited by F. D. Cogliano, 301–317. Oxford: Wiley Blackwell. Wayson, B. L. 2013. Martha Jefferson Randolph: Republican Daughter & Plantation Mistress. Palmyra, VA: Shortwood Press.

Further Reading Dumbauld, E. 1980. “Thomas Jefferson and the City of Washington.” Records of the Columbia Historical Society 50: 67–80. Founders Online: Correspondence and Other Writings of Six Major Shapers of the United States. 2014. Washington, DC: National Archives and Records Administration. http:// founders.archives.gov (accessed October 15, 2015). Gawalt, G. W., and A. B. Gawalt. 2004. First Daughters: Letters between US Presidents and Their Daughters. Washington, DC: Library of Congress. Gould, L. L. 2001. American First Ladies: Their Lives and Their Legacy. New York: Garland.

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Jefferson, T. 1928 [1804]. Jefferson to William Short on Mr. and Mrs. Merry, 1804. The American Historical Review 33 (4): 832–835. Kale, S. D. 2002. “Women, the Public Sphere, and the Persistence of Salons.” French Historical Studies 25 (1): 115–148. Kerrison, C. 2013. “The French Education of Martha Jefferson Randolph.” Early American Studies: An Interdisciplinary Journal 11 (2): 349–394. Kukla, J. 2007. Mr. Jefferson’s Women. Alfred A. Knopf: New York. Looney, J. J., S. H. Perdue, R. F. Haggard, and J. L. Lautenschlager, eds. 2004–. The Papers of

Thomas Jefferson: Retirement Series. Princeton: Princeton University Press. [= PTJ‐RS]. Rasmusson, E. E. 1966. “Democratic Environment—Aristocratic Aspiration.” Pennsylvania Magazine of History and Biography, Pennsylvania Historical Society 90 (2): 155–182. Thomas Jefferson Foundation. 2015. “Jefferson Quotes & Family Letters.” http://tjrs. monticello.ord/archive/search/letters (accessed October 20, 2015). Watson, R. P. 2002. American First Ladies. Pasadena, CA: Salem Press.

Chapter Four

James and Dolley Madison and the Quest for Unity* Catherine Allgor

A Glorious Retirement In 1817 James and Dolley Madison p ­ repared to leave the presidency, and Washington City, for retirement to their country seat, Montpelier, in Orange, Virginia. The War of 1812 had been concluded, the Virginian republican dynasty had been secured thanks to the 1816 election, and the people of the capital and the nation were in a celebratory mood, especially about the Madison legacy. Even the grumpy and grudging John Adams pronounced that James Madison’s administration had “acquired more glory, and established more Union, than” those of “Washington Adams and Jefferson, put together” (Allgor, 2006: 342). During their last months James and Dolley were fêted and celebrated at so many “balls public and private” that they stayed a month after James Monroe’s inauguration. They were showered with gifts and accolades in both prose and verse. At one Georgetown event, “richly framed” transparencies, paintings, and poetry etched on white velvet in their honor covered the walls (Allgor, 2006: 339–340). Even the socially indefatigable Dolley seemed overwhelmed,

as she reported to Hannah Nicholson Gallatin, wife of the secretary of treasury and peace envoy Albert Gallatin. Congress might be adjourned, but “still our house is crouded with company—in truth ever since the peace my brain has been turn’d with noise & bustle. Such over flowing rooms I never saw before—I sigh for repose.” Dolley was right; once Washington City’s status as capital was affirmed, all flocked to the seat of power. To cousin Edward Coles, who was also James’s personal secretary, Dolley marveled at the “unusual numr. of young men from every direction—in short, we never had so busy a winter because the city was never so full of respectable strangers.” At Dolley’s famous Wednesday night drawing rooms, “we have such throngs, you never saw” (Allgor, 2006: 342). Looking back with historical hindsight, the universal euphoria seems puzzling. Even by the most generous assessment, James Madison appears to have been a mediocre president. Before the war he presided over one of the most divisive Congresses in US history. He then led the United States into a dubious conflict, which culminated with the

*NOTE Portions of this chapter were previously published in A Companion to James Madison and James Monroe, edited by Stuart Leibiger. © 2013 John Wiley & Sons, Inc. Published 2013 by John Wiley & Sons, Inc. A Companion to First Ladies, First Edition. Edited by Katherine A. S. Sibley. © 2016 John Wiley & Sons, Inc. Published 2016 by John Wiley & Sons, Inc.

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burning of the capital city by British i­nvaders and the near‐abandonment of Washington as federal seat (McCoy, 1989: 10–11; Smelser, 1968: 318–320). Having accomplished none of the goals that he had set for the war, it is no wonder that Madison c­onsistently ranks in the middle of the presidential pack (Wills, 2002: 1–2, 153–154). So the mystery remains: Why were the Madisons so loved and lauded, when the president came close to losing the capital city and maybe the Union? If we take seriously the impressions of victory and the opinions expressed by contemporary Americans, what victory had James Madison achieved? To solve this puzzle, our historical gaze must widen so as to include not just the small, modest man in proper republican broadcloth but also the lady in plumes and pink satin by his side: his wife and political partner, Dolley Payne Todd Madison. Personality as Policy Looking more closely at the quality of praise for James’s performance, it becomes clear that his contemporaries did not harbor some mistaken idea that he had been a strong leader. Rather they made a virtue of his weakness (Wills, 2002: 154). Americans across the nation lauded him for his restraint in war— his refusal to sacrifice “civil or political liberties” for “[p]ower and national glory,” as one committee of citizens phrased it (quoted in McCoy, 1989: 12–14). War might breed corruption in republican theory, but the republican’s republican, James Madison, did not use the exigencies of wartime either to crush political enemies or to extend the power of the presidency, as others before and after him did. For Americans in 1817, James Madison’s legacy was precisely that he had not been powerful and active but had held the country together during a dangerous time, ensuring that it emerged at the end with all constitutional protections intact. By not persecuting enemies, James ensued that

there were no sedition acts, no treason trials to extend wartime bitterness when the war was over, no need for prolonged reconciliation (McCoy, 1989). James Madison gave the country back much as he had found it. James’s political style, all agreed, fit his personal character. While most acknowledged his massive intellect, the key to his success, according to them, lay in more “personal” qualities of temperament—modesty, restraint, and especially self‐restraint. James’s sterling character, philosophical mind, moderate temper, and purity of spirit ensured that even so violent an event as war proceeded judiciously. Enemies, foreign and domestic, might have raged around him; but he remained unruffled. This famous Madisonian restraint was no mere public pose; many who dealt face to face with him in stressful situations affirmed Edward Coles’s assessment that James Madison was “the most virtuous, calm, and amiable, of men, possessed of one of the purest hearts and best tempers with which man was ever blessed” (quoted in McCoy, 1989: 18–21, 34). These qualities, Coles believed, earned James his place in the pantheon of American founders, right next to George Washington. Dolley Madison was fêted both together with James and on her own. In turn, the paeans in her praise also stressed her warm and generous personality and its effects on politics. The famous Georgetown ball was actually held in her honor, and one of the verses that adorned the hall compared her to the sun on account of her power to illumine, cheer, and be “admired by all.” James’s political colleagues extolled Dolley for the way in which her manners “encourage[d] the diffident” and “tempted the morose” and for how she “suffered no one to turn from you without an emotion of gratitude” (Allgor, 2006: 340). Members of the diplomatic corps and women from political families always appreciated Dolley’s subtle political work. Lucia Alice von Kantzow, the wife of the Swedish minister, declared that no future experience in another country would “open more our eyes, enlarge our ideas, experience more the



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delight of natural, easy kind deeds, and kind ways, than what charmed us, in your flourishing, prosperous and fortunate country.” Like other diplomats before her, Lucia equated Dolley with the United States, so that in the same breath she admired both Dolley’s “many virtues” and “the gigantic strides your Republic makes to rival the best parts of Europe.” Lucia praised James as a high‐minded and idealistic steward of government, but she recognized Dolley’s mastery of the political game. She observed that, with cards “so well delt” and “well played,” Dolley made “friends among both parties” and became “loved by all your country men and country women.” In her role as the president’s wife, Dolley “honored his elevated post,” garnering respect “for your judicious conduct, and affable kind manners” (Allgor, 2006: 340–341). Even as the famed New England magazine The Port Folio commended Dolley for creating a social circle that “was at once the model of the polished life and the dwelling of cheerfulness,” they understood the uses of such a circle in divisive times. “At a time when the restless spirit of party covered every path with thorns,” they acknowledged, “this lady held the branch of conciliation and she well deserves a place among those who endeavor to promote peace and good will.” Thomas Jefferson may have uttered the famous words “[w]e are all federalists, we are all republicans,” but “[i]n her intercourse with society, Mrs. Madison reduced this liberal sentiment to practice.” The Portfolio’s solar invocation unintentionally echoed the Georgetown verse: “Like a summer’s sun she rose in our political horizon, gloriously, and she sunk, benignly” (all quoted in Allgor, 2006: 341). Americans who extolled the Madisons recognized what John Adams expressed so well. Victory lay in union. “Mr. Madison’s War” may not have gained Canada or British concessions and it may have been studded by military and political disasters, including the invasion of the capital and the Hartford

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Convention; but the way it was conducted and concluded united the country. Writing from Europe and thus perhaps reflecting his wife’s observations, Albert Gallatin was speaking for many when he averred that “[t] he war has renewed and reinstated the national feelings and character” that had been weakening since the Revolution. Trial by fire (which was literal in the case of the capital) rendered the populace “more Americans; they feel and act more as a nation, and I hope that the permanency of the Union is thereby better secured” (quoted in Allgor, 2006: 336). The Madisons’ was a brilliant political partnership, and their personalities became tools of policy. In their private lives they were people who valued harmony and thoughtful consideration above all, sometimes to their own detriment. In their public lives, James’s restraint and modesty, coupled with Dolley’s ability to connect people and to defuse conflict, allowed them to pursue their goals of national unity and to present for us moderns a model of rule strikingly different from the more masculinized and conflict‐based styles of the founding era. The way in which they achieved their success followed the larger patterns of their political partnership. Dolley was the one who personified values, the one who took the abstractions for which her husband was justly famed and made them practical and concrete. Studying actions as well as words will, then, tell the tale. The Problem of Unity Even before the fires of the revolution had died down, national unity had become the chief worry of the founders. Historians have long observed James’s preoccupation with the preservation of the Union (Brant, 1948). As a political theorist, James also understood “unity” to be a quality more primary than a theoretical contract between state entities. He understood that, for the republic to

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work, there needed to be bonds that held “men” together psychologically, though he did not have a terminology for this concept. This theme of unity may indeed have stemmed from his own even temper; without question it pervaded and underlay many of the political issues he pondered about. For instance, in his musings in the famous Federalist 10, he performed a breathtaking twist of logic. The nature of man, he stated, is not unity, but factionalism. But James had no intention of leaving it there. Even factions have their own internal unity, as they are “united and actuated by some common impulse of passion” (Rossiter, 1961: 78). Moreover, a republican government should allow factions; as no one group could dominate the system, contention between factions would give the society stability. In other words, he saw a unity of disunities, each with a unity of its own. In another example, James Madison believed in the importance of what he called “veneration” in cementing bonds of affection and unity among the citizens of the new United States. Early in his career, when he argued for the constitution, he feared that critics (including his friend Thomas Jefferson) sometimes undermined the people’s faith in the document, depriving it of “that veneration, which time bestows on every thing.” “History” played its own part in the veneration process. One of the reasons why he delayed publication of his notes from the Constitutional Convention was to allow for a certain passage of time, in order to secure the psychological effect of a long‐ held tradition (McCoy, 1989: 48, 164). History and veneration were tools of unity. Some might view tyrannical government as the greatest threat to the nation, but James feared the corruption and self‐interest of individuals. With “we, the people” united, the Union would hold. But ideas and ideals can only go so far, particularly for James, who often erred in thinking that, if something worked on paper, it would work in practice. This is

where what Garry Wills calls James’s “naïveté” about how people behaved caused him to hold on to an idea far longer than he should have (Wills, 2002: 5). When it came to the abstractions of unity, no one understood the importance of this intangible concept more than James. But making the ideals real fell to Dolley Madison. In tracing out how and what she did, we must look for evidence beyond the usual. The political philosophies and opinions of political men can be deduced from official political documents, such as legislation, declarations, and speeches. Men used the civil sphere too, writing letters and newspaper pieces that explained or defended their stand, or using agents to do so. A powerful enough man, such as Thomas Jefferson, could employ his own newspaper editor. Finally, men’s personal papers and diaries provide information about their thought processes. The male pattern of political writing is especially characteristic of the founding generation; from the beginning of the Revolution, men such as John Adams, Thomas Jefferson, and James Madison were conscious that they were writing for “History.” The white women of the founding families were different. Dolley, like most of her female colleagues and contemporaries, was no feminist. Unlike the radical theorist Mary Wollstonecraft, she did not put her thoughts down on paper. Indeed, like other women who saw themselves “only” as good wives and family members, Dolley rejected the characterization of her work as “political.” Coming from a culture that despised and feared “petticoat politics,” these respectable women would have been insulted at that suggestion. Yet this rejection of the category should not obscure the fact that these elite white women were effective in furthering their families’ political aims and in providing social services and political structure to federal and state governments. In fact their level of political involvement can be discerned through their corresponding level of denial.



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Dolley’s own words tell us little about the Madison mission of unity. Thanks to the efforts of Holly Shulman and the Dolley Madison Digital Edition of Dolley’s papers, we now can read thousands of letters to and from her. Read with an understanding of the differences between how men and how women wrote, these documents are full of political talk, mostly in the categories of information and patronage, but they contain none of the long, often self‐serving disquisitions that are characteristic of men’s letters—for example of the famed Jefferson– Adams correspondence. To uncover what Dolley brought to the task of being the president’s wife, we must take a more oblique path, tracing out her background and her character, as both contemporaries and historians do for James. Character and background can be discovered, to a degree, in Dolley’s own writings and in those of her niece and biographer, Mary Estelle Elizabeth Cutts. To demonstrate her actions and to measure their effects, however, we must utilize the many descriptions of and reactions to her by observers. Historians have long treated the large body of descriptions of Dolley as “color,” or as “celebrity mentions.” Used as political analysis, however, the words of others reveal a deeper meaning underneath the clothes, the parties, and the title “Queen of Hearts.” Quaker to Queen Perhaps the most salient fact in the quest to discover the source of Dolley Madison’s fabled effects on people is her Quaker background. Her mother, Mary Coles, came from a family of Quakers in Virginia; her father, John Payne, converted to Quakerism upon his marriage. It is hard to speculate exactly how the Society of Friends in Dolley’s background affected her directly, because unfortunately little material about Dolley’s childhood exists. Certainly both Quaker history and contemporary eighteenth‐century

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Quakerism promoted ideas of female equality before other cultural and religious traditions had. Because the Friends believed in spiritual equality, women as well as men could be touched by the spirit and could follow what they perceived to be God’s call, even to the extent of abandoning their womanly duties as wives and mothers. It is not a big leap to imagine that the young girl heard stories of these itinerant women preachers, who insisted on the primacy of their spiritual personhood. But Dolley’s relationship with the Society was fraught with tension even from her birth in 1768. Although she went to great lengths to claim that she was a native Virginian (she even lied about it), she had actually been born in North Carolina. Her birth did not occur “on a visit,” as she and her family chroniclers claimed, but because her father, perhaps fired with the enthusiasm of conversion, had just taken his young family from Mary Coles Payne’s home region to the wild frontier of Guilford County, North Carolina, the site of a new Quaker community (Allgor, 2006: 18). This move was not without financial and emotional costs for the Paynes; and it cost them even more financially when they left after only a few years. It is not clear why the family pulled up stakes and returned home, but evidence suggests that the cause was John Payne’s unsuccessful business practices. Dolley, then, grew up mostly in the Virginia countryside, an experience positive enough to convince her to reenter that milieu through her marriage to James. Though she was, without doubt, surrounded by loving kin, Quakers were anomalous enough on Virginia’s largely Anglican landscape for her sense of “outsiderness” to have have developed early. Quakerism also brought a kind of questioning not shared by the Paynes’ neighbors. The Paynes accepted their lives as slaveholders, seemingly without questioning the institution. But, as the Society of Friends eventually decided that slaveholding was incompatible with Quaker

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life, John Payne’s family, including Dolley, must have been privy to discussions about slavery and its consequences that set them even further apart. In 1783, when Dolley was fifteen, John Payne made the radical decision to free his slaves. Unable to farm without them, he transplanted his family (now numbering eight children) not just to a city, but to the chilly northern city of Philadelphia. On one hand, the City of Brotherly Love was an exciting place to be, the most cosmopolitan city in the former colonies, with a diverse population, new ways of living, and a rich material culture. On the other hand, John Payne chose it because it was the seat of American Quakerism; Mary Cutts insisted on the move’s being motivated by “one aim, the support of his religious belief” (Allgor, 2006: 21 Disaster followed the Paynes. In the space of ten years, all three of Dolley’s older brothers died, as did a baby sister named Philadelphia. John Payne failed in business and, due to shady dealings, was “read out of Quaker meeting” (that is, expelled from the community). To make ends meet, Dolley’s genteel mother opened a boardinghouse. Shamed, John Payne fell into a deep depression and died, but not before betrothing his oldest daughter to John Todd, a man probably not of her choosing. In 1793 Dolley, along with thousands, experienced the trauma of a widespread yellow fever epidemic. She lost her husband, her in‐laws, and one of her two sons. It may be going too far to say that Dolley could blame Quakerism for her troubles, though it had brought her family to the city and had effectively broken her father. But, until the time she met James Madison at the age of twenty‐six, widowed and with one remaining toddler child as she was, Quakerism had not been a source of unmitigated comfort. Even as a young woman, Dolley could not seem to find her own way in this religion of (at best) high‐minded ideals and (at worst) crabbed censoriousness.

Disturbed by the “dashing tendency of her character” as well as by her caps, “the cut of her gown and the shape of her shoes,” female Friends had firmly admonished the young girl for leaning toward “the gayeties of this world.” In response, Dolley—who was to become famous for her refusal to confront critics—merely smiled, and then, perhaps passive‐aggressively, fell asleep (Allgor, 2006: 20). The strongest evidence for Dolley’s attitude toward the Quakers during her youth comes from her choices in later life. Although John Todd was a proper Quaker man, Dolley Madison married the Anglican James Madison in 1794, less than a year after her first husband’s death, and was promptly read out of meeting, both for her haste and for her choice. All evidence suggests that she abandoned her religious heritage without a backward glance. Even if at the time she could not have foreseen her future as a president’s wife, surely it is significant that Dolley not only became ­ the  most famous woman in America for “worldly” reasons—her dress, her entertainments, her sociability—but did so at the center of the kind of coercive political power from which Quakers set themselves apart. In 1805 Dolley Madison returned to Philadelphia to undergo treatment for a tumor on her leg under Dr. Philip Syng Physick, a reputed physician. His treatments left her immobile and helpless to resist the Quakers who insisted on visiting her. Quakeresses Nancy Mifflin and Sally Lane “remonstrated with” her for having so much company: “they said that it was reported that half the City of Phila had made me visits.” Dolley confessed to her sister Anna that “[t]heir lecture made me recollect the times when our Society [of Friends] used to controle me entirely & debar me from so many advantages & pleasures.” This must have seemed an ironic twist of fate. Married to a non‐Quaker, read out of meeting for many years, living a life “so entirely from their clutches,” Dolley endured yet another



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lecture. No wonder that she “really felt my ancient terror of them revive to a disiagreable [sic] degree,” as she confessed to Anna (Allgor, 2006: 110). For all their negative effects and connotations, the tenets of Quakerism may also have had a positive influence—again, discernible in Dolley’s later life. The Society of Friends believed that every individual, no matter of what sex or station, had an “inner light”: the palpable presence of God. Accordingly, Friends rejected any “distinctions” among humans, even titles of address, and saw all people as being in brotherhood with one another. In an era of hierarchy, this was a very revolutionary idea. Dolley’s very capacity for sympathy, empathy, and kindness, which struck people most, was perhaps her own adaptation of the “inner light.” Most descriptions of Dolley mention her unifying effect on people. Certainly observers praised Dolley for her “sweetness,” for being “humble‐minded, tolerant, and sincere,” as someone who “certainly has the most agreeable way of saying the most agreeable things.” But the most astute observers commented on her personality in relationship to others and in its effects on them. No matter “how great a person greeted her or how comparatively unimportant a guest, her perfect dignity and her gently gracious interest were the same to all.” If she showed any preference, “it was to the modest and diffident,” with the shyest of guests soon “put at ease by her affability.” After spending time with Dolley at events large and small, Catherine Akerly Mitchill, wife of Samuel Latham Mitchill, the New York Representative, concluded: “Really, she makes herself so agreeable and by her civil & polite expressions, puts every one in such a good humour with themselves, that no one who has once seen her, can help being pleased with her, or quit her house without feeling a desire to renew their visit.” As she assumed the head of national society as the president’s wife, Dolley constructed a lavish persona, using clothes and jewelry in

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ways that might seem almost outlandish, but also impressive and dazzling. Sarah Gales Seaton, wife of one newspaper editor and sister of another, echoed many when she followed a description of one of Dolley’s lavish ensembles with this reassurance: “’Tis here the woman who adorns the dress, and not the dress that beautifies the woman.” The secret of her success, many decided, lay in her “desire to please, and a willingness to be pleased” (all quoted in Allgor, 2006: 241–244 and 190). James may have harbored the same feelings toward the people he governed. In his personal life, even those he had enslaved remarked on his consideration (McCoy, 1989: 22–23). But Dolley made people feel her empathy. Surely her greater attunement to people is a function of many factors— including her gender, her sheer personality, and any Quaker influence that remained with her. But her kindness and sympathy, especially to those who felt out of place, may also have been the result of her own experiences of unhappiness and disruption. James Madison had been born into a world where he was destined to be at the top. Even in a revolutionary context, his life moved him in an orderly fashion to the head of his culture’s “great chain of being.” At appropriate times, James took his place in society and as political leader; he even took possession of his father’s house upon James Madison Senior’s death in 1801, in proper patriarchal fashion. This almost unimaginable security about his right place in the world gave James an inner confidence. It also might have made him somewhat complacent with his life. When James married Dolley, he was a forty‐four‐year‐old bachelor—a highly unusual situation in an Anglo‐American culture where even the widowed almost surely remarried. Perhaps his complacency about his place in the world led to a lack of effort in his personal life. Not for him, the risk taking and insecurity of romantic venture; before Dolley he had courted seriously only once—a girl whom he might have reckoned

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to be an “easy catch”: she was barely in her teens, and the daughter of a fellow congressman (Wills, 2002: 5). In contrast, Dolley experienced a more tenuous hold on status, security, and sense of self. As a Quaker in Virginia, she may have felt out of place; as a young girl in Philadelphia, she was most assuredly an outsider. As her mother went “into trade,” Dolley may have learned the deference of the commercial class. Marriage to a man as stable and settled as James Madison did not change her feelings overnight. She did not  automatically become mistress of Montpelier; James’s mother, Nelly Conway Madison, remained fully in charge for decades. Children have a way of cementing a woman’s place in a family, but none was forthcoming for the Madisons. Not until half a dozen years into her marriage did she find a place where she belonged—and that was Washington City. Until the Madisons retired back to Montpelier, it was the longest she had ever lived in one area. Coming together in Washington City In 1809 James and Dolley Madison took possession of the President’s House—the culmination of a process that began when they arrived eight years before in order for James to take up the post of secretary of state under President Jefferson. Historians have long asserted that Dolley’s role in the Jefferson administration was that of substitute first lady for Jefferson. This was not so. Though Jefferson did ask Dolley to preside over female dinner guests when his daughter was not in town, Martha Jefferson Randolph was her father’s official hostess. Claiming this position for Dolley, moreover, obscures two points. First, Thomas Jefferson’s style of entertaining focused on small, all‐male dinners, obviating the need for a female presence; and, second, Dolley was involved in her own social and political

projects. (Another perspective on Jefferson’s dinners is given in Chapter 3 of this e­ dition.) As Jefferson refused to open the executive mansion to the public except on New Year’s Day and on the Fourth of July, or even to other members of the government, Dolley made the home of the secretary of state on F Street a social and political center. Here she hosted dinner parties, large receptions, and smaller gatherings for Federalists and Republicans, Americans and Europeans. She called and was called upon. Her entertaining contrasted with Jefferson’s gloomy austerity, and many of the political tasks of cohesion and persuasion happened not under the president’s eye, but under hers. This was especially true as James, though he could be charming in small companies of trusted friends, tended to fade into the social background. During the infamous Merry Affair (in which Thomas Jefferson, pell‐mell, so insulted the legation from Great Britain that the couple refused to dine with him), what should have been happening in the executive mansion—the business of foreign affairs—took place at the house on F Street. Before she ever became the nation’s leading lady, Dolley was bringing people together. As Mary Cutts put it: “What wonder then, that an event which placed Mrs. Madison in the ‘White House’ should give such general satisfaction and pleasure!” (Allgor, 2012: 108). Cutts was referring to the “citizens of Washington,” who were pleased at continuing to be involved in national politics; but the Madison ascension was probably as satisfactory to the professional politicians, who welcomed the opportunities offered in the unofficial sphere of Dolley’s social events. With the transition from the Jefferson to the Madison administration, the goal of unity took center stage. The divisions in capital society represented those of the nation writ small. The political climate had never been nastier, with partisan bitterness on all sides. James’s election in 1808 may have truly sealed the Federalists’ fate as a dying



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party, but, judging from their words and actions, they were determined to take down their opponents before they left. James’s own party, the Republicans, in spite of (or perhaps because of) their overwhelming victories in the last few presidential ­elections, splintered. The “Old Republicans”—spearheaded by fellow Virginian John Randolph of Roanoke, by the New York Clintonites, led by George and DeWitt Clinton, and by the behind‐the‐scene “Invisibles,” made visible by newspaper editor William Duane of the Philadelphia Aurora—though all putatively of James’s party, set out to knock him off his throne (Rakove, 1990: 149; Wills, 2002: 69–70). Political ideology was not the only thing that further divided Congress. In that era, Americans worried about the alienating effects of “regionalism” (later in the century they would call it “sectionalism”), which the Congress modeled in bold relief. To be sure, elected and appointed officials were the elites of their areas, but even class was no guarantee of solidarity. In a culture that believed in regional lines as well as in “blood” lines, “hot‐blooded” aristocratic Virginians looked down on prosperous “cold” New Englanders, and vice versa. Election to political office from less developed regions brought unexpected men into official society. Shocking stories of butchers at the president’s table, men who spat out champagne, frontier judges who had never seen a piano, and congressmen who relieved themselves in fireplaces made the rounds. While the humor of such tales is evident, Washingtonians took them seriously. “Disunion” always threatened the young republic, and capital culture clash provided a cautionary tale. Attempting to overcome regionalism in his appointments, James saddled himself with a weak, if diverse, Cabinet (Ketcham, 1971: 482). He had few of the presidential sticks and carrots available today in order to lead a rebellious Congress. His only choice was to  unify them. Given his own personal

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limitations, his reticence and lack of ­charisma, the unifying job fell to Dolley. One of Dolley’s most famous accomplishments was her famed “redecoration” of the executive mansion. This has been seen as a properly traditionally feminine act, an exercise in personal taste, featuring that most female of activities, shopping. Recent scholarship has shown, however, that this house renovation belongs more in the tradition of castle building and gentry home construction than to modern ideas of the home as a private space. The construction of private homes for public power was largely the province of men such as George Washington and Thomas Jefferson. That James Madison turned this project over to Dolley is a demonstration of his trust in her expertise. Such houses, if well done, can have tremendous psychological power, and indeed Dolley’s manifestation of the president’s house soon earned it a nickname— “the White House”—as she made it into a symbol of the capital city. The strongest argument for Dolley’s intentions lies in what she and her collaborator, architect Benjamin Henry Latrobe, chose to do. They did not expend much energy or money on the private chambers, but instead restructured the dwelling into several large, sumptuous public rooms. Before Dolley’s version of the White House, there was no one space in a public building or in a private home in the whole city that could accommodate all the members of the federal government, let alone their families and the locals. For politics to happen, two spheres of activity are needed. The official sphere is that of the product of politics, the declaration, the legislation, the press release. The unofficial sphere, what many call the “behind the scenes,” is where the process of politicking, the lobbying, the persuading goes on. Unofficial spheres develop at social events. Surely it is significant that only in the halls of Congress, in the glare of the official spotlight, could the warring members of

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Congress meet. Politicians of both parties tried to use boardinghouses as places for process, but their lodgings were small and tended to be populated by groups of likeminded men. When Dolley’s White House opened its doors on May 31, 1809, the capital city had found its unofficial sphere. To declare that the White House, when finished, was the most lavishly decorated public space in the country and that people were drawn to it seems obvious. But Dolley and Henry Latrobe had many obstacles to overcome. There was a limit to the furnishings that they could obtain in Washington and in the surrounding seaports. More problematically, the team could not merely construct the finest decor that money could buy. There were political considerations. Dolley and Henry knew their audiences of ordinary Americans and European visitors saw lavishness as a proper indicator of authority. Americans may have fought a revolution against all things regal, but monarchy and aristocracy still remained in their vocabulary of power. Superior things might make superior rulers or the other way around, but the connection was obvious in American minds. The “aristocratic” Federalist Party also needed reassurance that the decadent, slaveholding Virginians could rise above the barbarity of plantation life and enter into the elevated sphere of refinement. At the same time, old‐time “pure” Republicans, as well as the new “Democrats,” viewed any court‐like shows of splendor with skepticism. In the tradition of political pundits, they saw “signs” everywhere, and a White House fit for a king might well soon harbor one. In suiting their audiences, Dolley and Henry did well. Almost everyone marveled at the Sheraton‐style “Mrs. Madison’s parlor,” done in sunflower yellow. Trimmed with a yellow silk fringe, yellow silk damask framed the windows and was hung in swag valances all along the top of the room. The furniture was also upholstered in yellow, and the pianoforte and guitar signaled

sophistication and cultured leisure. The Oval Room stunned visitors with its red velvet curtains, which contrasted with the cream wallpaper, and its woodwork, shadowed in blue and gray to imitate marble. These interiors spoke of European opulence, but the furnishings made them American. Not only were the chairs and tables American‐made, but their decoration deliberately evoked ancient Greece and Rome, as well as the arms of the United States. “The President’s house is a perfect palace,” exclaimed one visitor—but it was a republican one (quoted in Allgor, 2006: 167). All were equally impressed with the ample dining room, featuring the portrait of George Washington “large as life,” and with the light and airy Blue Room. Dolley and Henry succeeded in their efforts to impress; but it was the use to which these lavish rooms were put, and the atmosphere set by the leading lady, that transcended mere conspicuous consumption. Access to the Unofficial Sphere Dolley Madison soon initiated weekly drawing rooms, which quickly became known as “Mrs. Madison’s Wednesday nights.” Though initially an introduction was required for an invitation, Dolley’s soirées soon became open to all, friends and enemies alike. Official families, local gentry, visitors from across the country and the globe, members of the diplomatic corps all came and could expect to come face to face with their local tailor or boardinghouse keeper. “Mrs. Madison I understand has unequivocally declar’d she is a democrat tho the world have strong doubts about it,” declared Representative Jonathan Roberts (quoted in Allgor, 2006: 194). Lured by the food, the music, and the dazzling setting, so many people attended that these occasions became known as “squeezes.” Bringing people together, finding a common ground is the first step to unity.



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Dolley’s drawing rooms were literally a bipartisan location. More like at modern cocktail parties than at formal receptions, people moved freely, making connections, forming and re‐forming groups, and mingling. That key component, access, made the drawing rooms the place to be in Washington. The regularity of the drawing room—even in the face of illness and death—gave people a place they could count on for seeing and for being seen in. Of course, attendance at the drawing room gave everyone access to James Madison, who often stood quietly, greeting his arriving guests, while Dolley “worked” the room, her waving plumes signaling her location. Never before or since has access to a president been so free. But, even more importantly, people had access to each other. Attendance at a drawing room offered both men who worked together and those in different government departments the opportunity to further and deepen their relationships. The architecture of Washington, reflecting the fear of centralized power, kept the branches of government apart; on Wednesday night, White House architecture brought people together. With music, food, and the presence of families signaling the “unofficial” atmosphere, official men could transcend the partisan political stances they felt obligated to take on the floors of Congress and in the press. No doubt much politicking was done at the drawing room, including soliciting support for legislation, floating proposals, seeking patronage, and gathering and dispensing information. For the most part, people reacted positively to the drawing rooms; it is telling that those who did not still went. These events proved indispensable to Washington business. Perhaps the most important effect was the most subtle one. In a political culture that framed issues in black and white, where there was no way to understand the function of an informed dissent, Dolley’s drawing room allowed people to interact with

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everyone at their most human level. If political rhetorics on both sides painted the opposition as the embodiment of evil, the reality of the drawing rooms made such characterizations hard to sustain. Women in political families forged social relationships across the aisle that mitigated the acid partisanship. For the men, seeing a male political enemy with his family and getting to know his female kin outside of the overheated atmosphere of politics helped show that those who disagreed could all agree on the public good. Slowly, under Dolley’s eye, this motley group of former colonists constructed a ruling class and the tools for what official men did not yet have a name for: bipartisanship. When, in a decade or so, a two‐party system emerged, the structure laid out first in Dolley’s drawing rooms and then in the unofficial spheres of her imitators could rise to meet the challenge. But Dolley’s entertainments did not merely bring people together. She also actively worked to enforce a code of civility that allowed people to see the best in each other. All of her life, Dolley was famed for her avoidance of contention. “To the powerful and arrogant, she would accord all their vanity exacted,” Mary Cutts relayed. “She would say, it was not her place to treat them otherwise. One of her peculiarities was, never to contradict” (quoted in Allgor, 2012: 108). Dolley herself advised one of her protégées, Phoebe Morris, that “to have conciliated the regard of those, by whom we are surrounded—it is a sensation, my dear girl, worth all the pains you can take.” In an era that equated complete self‐effacement with ladylike behavior, her contemporaries recognized these tendencies and mostly registered approval. Still, even by her culture’s standards, Dolley could be excessively ameliorating; this even prompted some to suspect hypocrisy. When young Frances Few bluntly observed that “I do not think it possible to know what her real opinions are as she is all things to all men,” she was not the only one who regarded with skepticism

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“those smiles which no doubt helped to make the dominant party adhesive in … her presidency” (all quoted in Allgor, 2006: 195, 246–247). This eagerness to please might be one more result of Dolley’s unsettled life as a young person; her avoidance of conflict could be traced to her relationship with her father, clearly a difficult man. Life with him may have been stormy enough for a daughter to learn the value of smoothing things over. But she did not merely sidestep conflict, she actively reached out to charm and disarm. Dolley was always willing to beard the lion in his den; she did not only refuse to tolerate dissension—in her own way, she dissipated it. On the one hand, she set the example herself, as Jonathan Roberts commented: “By her deportment in her own house you cannot discover who [are] her husband’s friends or foes. Her guests have no right to claim of her partiality” (quoted in Allgor, 2006: 195, 246). Further, she used her personality as a tool for policy. Dolley’s biographer, Mary Cutts, describes this dynamic: [A]ll parties appeared [at Dolley’s drawing rooms] knowing that they should all share her kind welcome and benignant smile, she felt that it was her duty to pour oil on the waters of discord, and draw malcontents into the fold of her husband, and successful she was for few would oppose [the partner] of such a wife! (Quoted in Allgor, 2012: 110–111)

Though Dolley would deny the use of her power, it is clear that, for all her gentle ways, people paid attention. “So harmonious was her disposition,” related Mary Cutts, “she never argued a point, if friends or relations indulged in satire or wit, in her presence, which might wound the feelings of others” (quoted in Allgor, 2012: 115– 116). If people were “indulg[ing] in satire or wit,” Dolley’s mere presence would make them stop:

[W]hen the peculiar and welcome returning sound of her high heeled shoes gave notice of her approach all ill feeling would be forgotten or suppressed and the topic changed, so well known was her dislike to contention; for she always said “I would rather fight with my hands than my tongue.” (Quoted in Allgor, 2012: 116)

Or in this case her feet, which had the power to change the conversation. Attendance at social events, even in the early republic, demanded that women, and especially men, behave themselves. But the circumstances—both the need for civil behavior and the factors that obviated it— were heightened in the capital milieu. In a particularly violent, masculine culture where men assaulted each other not only in boardinghouses and on the public streets, but also on the floors of Congress, it is easy, social proscriptions aside, to imagine such goings‐ on breaking out in the free‐for‐all of a drawing room (Freeman, 2001). Through her actions and presence, however, Dolley demanded emotional control.

Mrs. Madison’s War In spite of Dolley’s efforts, the political scene continued to deteriorate, as factionalism heightened over the issue of whether or not to go to war with Great Britain. The official declaration of war on June 18, 1812, ironically, only accelerated the divisions. New England Federalists felt the brunt of war most keenly, and the various republican groups seized on the situation to make any political hay they could. Correspondingly, Dolley’s wartime efforts intensified. In the first congressional season after the declaration, Dolley began her “social campaign” early, and throughout the war she gave more parties than ever before, to almost universal approbation. These parties reflected the increased need for unofficial space, as people thronged to the capital city. They also



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reassured the citizens of the district, who kept hearing rumors of invasion, and in the increasingly agitated political atmosphere they provided a neutral ground for members of the government. She made much of the few military victories that came the United States’ way, and of the men responsible. In one famous story, she contravened James’s order for General William Henry Harrison to return to the battlefield after coming to Washington to report on a successful military action. Dolley wanted him to appear at the drawing room, knowing that the public not only wanted to see and honor him, but needed to. Dolley had always personified her husband and his administration. Now her work transcended her political affiliation. Since men were associated with one party or another, no male, not even the president, could represent the United States. Because she was a woman, and therefore (in theory) above politics, Dolley could appear to the American public and to European observers as a larger‐than‐life embodiment of disinterested patriotism and of the nation. She reviewed and entertained passing troops who saluted her, not the president. When the British ships Guerrière and Macedonian were captured in the 1812 naval campaign, the officers presented Dolley with their colors in ceremonial, public fashion at her parties. The British forces also recognized her symbolic value; while plans to poison James might have been suspected, Alexander Cockburn, the enemy commander, threatened to burn the White House over Dolley’s head and to capture her and parade her through the streets of London. Without question, Dolley’s most famous day—August 23, 1814, the day of the invasion of Washington—presents in microcosm all of her work for unity. James had gone to review troops in the field, leaving Dolley in command of the house she created. Her plans that day included a dinner party for Washington residents and for members of the government. She intended to hold this

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event precisely in the face of the rumors of the invasion; as the rumors strengthened and the city began to evacuate, she continued to prepare for the dinner. As always, her social events were created to reassure and soothe, even as she feared for James’s fate and her own, from enemies both internal and external. “Disaffection stalks around us,” she relayed in a famous letter to her sister, written as Dolley waited, unsure whether to stay or flee. Dolley interrupted her dinner preparations and letter writing with periodic trips to the White House roof, “watching with unwearied anxiety,” through her spyglass, for her husband’s return (Allgor, 2006: 3, 312). In the end all was for naught. The dinner was canceled, and Dolley with her enslaved servants, Paul Jennings and Sukey, and her white servant, John Sioussat, readied their exit, trying to save what they could before the British came. She decided to save the famous painting of George Washington, either the one by Gilbert Stuart or a copy. Dolley, always the master of psychological politics, knew what it would mean for this portrait to be captured, burnt, or, worst of all, paraded through a street in London, as Cockburn threatened to do to her. Fittingly, considering Dolley’s position as the face of patriotism, her heroic flight became the most famous symbol of the War of 1812. When she and James and the rest of the city’s residents returned to the smoking ruins of the official buildings, the debate over relocation began. Many who argued for relocating the nation’s capital to New York or Philadelphia (among many other places) had never liked Washington to begin with; but, had they prevailed, a move would have been disastrous. Certainly it would have bankrupted the investors and the locals who had expended much on the new capital, but it would also have taken months to the government to be up and running. Perhaps most damaging of all would be the image of retreat. The fruit of Dolley’s quest for unity manifested itself at this time. For all those who were ready to abandon the city, even greater

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numbers appreciated the capital community and concomitant opportunities she had created. The locals she had cultivated sprang into action, building a “Brick Capitol” and other substitute public buildings. The ladies of Washington, long Dolley’s colleagues, showed their faith in the city’s future by founding the Washington Female Orphan Asylum and by appointing Dolley as “first directress.” Dolley donated twenty dollars and a cow. Perhaps most significantly for the war effort as a whole, Dolley’s work of making the White House and the capital into a symbol for America rallied the American troops for the final months of fighting. The British had strategized that the burning of the federal seat would dispirit the Americans, but their actions had the reverse effect. Federalist John Tayloe possessed the finest private residence in the district; and, though he was a political enemy of James’s, he was a friend of Dolley’s. Tayloe’s Octagon House became the temporary White House, allowing her to resume her social agenda as soon as possible the autumn after the invasion. When peace came, the treaty was delivered to the Octagon on February 14, 1815, in the late afternoon. While James and his Cabinet were upstairs, looking over a document that preserved the status quo ante bellum, Dolley was gathering a party downstairs. By early evening everyone was at Dolley’s most portentous drawing room, and, according to one reporter, “what a happy scene it was!” Political enemies, who had been “against one another in continual conflict and fierce debate,” now moved through the room with “elated spirits” and “softened hearts,” cordially congratulating one another. As always, Dolley presided “with a grace all her own,” performing “the honors of the occasion.” The reporter for the Intelligencer—Margaret Bayard Smith, Dolley’s colleague—while describing her as a “queenly beauty,” and “in the meridian of life,” also stressed that “she was, in her person for the moment, the representative of the feelings of him who was, at this moment,

in grave consultation with his official advisers” (quoted in Allgor, 2006: 333). Dolley’s function, as it had been on many occasions, was to reassure. “No one could doubt, who beheld the radiance of joy which lighted up her countenance and diffused its beams around, that all uncertainty was at an end.” Smith made the pronouncement that “the government of the country had in very truth … ‘passed from gloom to glory’” (Allgor, 2006: 333). Although in the end the United States gained nothing from the conflict, Dolley’s abilities to unify made even the War of 1812 seem like a victory. A Model for the Future At first glance, it would seem that the Madison goal of unity did not work. Dolley’s drawing rooms may have contained partisan bitterness, but they did not stop the party system. Being the darling of diplomats and sending in cake and wine during a diplomatic contretemps did not, either, forestall the declaration of war. But, if one looks at how the explosion of nationalism in the aftermath of the war unified the country and solidified the capital city, the Madisons won a psychological victory. The “era of good feelings,” ushered in after the election of 1816, had more to do with the Madisons than with President Monroe. The unity that James imagined and that Dolley strove for influenced how contemporaries and later generations thought about the war. In spite of impressive scholarship demonstrating the contrary and emphasizing lingering internal differences (see Taylor, 2011), the conflict is still presented as “the second war for independence” and as a victory for the young nation. Perhaps most importantly of all, in examining the Madisons’ efforts to build unity, one can reassess the gifts that both of them gave the nation. Historians like Robert Johanssen (1985) and Robert Hickey (2012) have long dismissed James Madison as a poor wartime president on the grounds that



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he did not lead aggressively. Perhaps more modern scholars should appreciate James Madison’s example of executive restraint. Though it did not prevail, Dolley’s model of bipartisan cooperation, civility, and empathy remains with us as a tool for a future politics. With modernity, it is clear that the only politics is psychological: how people feel about how they are ruled is the crucial factor. Dolley Madison took feelings seriously, and in the face of a political culture of anger and fear she tried to cultivate that most crucial (and difficult to achieve) of capacities— the ability to see “the other” as fully human. Often people leave life as they lived it. In June 1836, as James Madison lay dying, his physician offered to prolong his life with stimulants, so that he, like his predecessors John Adams, Thomas Jefferson, and James Monroe, could die on July 4. With characteristic self‐effacement James refused, preferring to die “in the full possession of all his noble faculties,” and did so on June 28, 1836 (Allgor, 2006: 376). Dolley soon returned to reign in her beloved Washington, where she was co‐opted by both parties as a symbol of the nation. She continued her role as a unifier by introducing her southern cousin, Angelica Singleton, to New Yorker Martin Van Buren’s son Abraham, and Angelica soon became the widowed president’s first lady surrogate. When Dolley died on July 12, 1849, hers was the largest state funeral ever seen in the city. All the branches of government closed, and the government and the citizens of Washington laid aside partisan differences, as they had for over five decades, allowing themselves to be brought together by Dolley Madison. References Allgor, C. 2006. A Perfect Union: Dolley Madison and the Creation of the American Nation. New York: Henry Holt. Allgor, C., ed. 2012. The Queen of America: Mary Cutts’s Life of Dolley Madison. Charlottesville: University of Virginia Press.

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Brant, I. 1948. Madison the Nationalist, 1780–1787. New York: Bobbs‐Merrill. Freeman, J. B. 2001. Affairs of Honor: National Politics in the New Republic. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press. Hickey, D. R. 2012. The War of 1812: A Short History. Champaign: University of Illinois Press. Johanssen, R. W. 1985. To the Halls of the Montezumas. New York: Oxford University Press. Ketcham, R. L. 1971. James Madison: A Biography. Charlottesville: University of Virginia Press. McCoy, D. R. 1989. The Last of the Fathers: James Madison and the Republican Legacy. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Rakove, J. N. 1989. James Madison and the Creation of the American Republic. Harlow: Pearson Education. Rossiter, C., ed. 1961. The Federalist Papers. New York: New American Library. Taylor, A. 2011. The Civil War of 1812: American Citizens, British Subjects, Irish Rebels and Indian Allies. New York: Random House. Smelser, M. 1968. The Democratic Republic, 1801–1815. New York: Harper & Row. Wills, G. 2002. James Madison. New York: Times Books.

Further Reading Allgor, C. 2000. Parlor Politics: In Which the Ladies of Washington Help Build a City and a Government. Charlottesville: University of Virginia Press. Berkin, C. 2006. Revolutionary Mothers: Women in the Struggle for America’s Independence. New York: Vintage. Caroli, B. B. 1987. First Ladies. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Carson, B. G. 1990. Ambitious Appetites: Dining, Behavior, and Patterns of Consumption in Federal Washington. Washington, DC: Aia Press. Hickey, D. R. 1989. The War of 1812: A Forgotten Conflict. Iowa City: University of Iowa Press. Hunt‐Jones, C. 1977. Dolley and the “Great Little Madison.” Washington, DC: American Institute of Architects Foundation.

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Ketcham, R. 2009. The Madisons of Montpelier: Reflections on the Founding Couple. Charlottesville: University of Virginia Press. Klapthor, M. B. 1965. Benjamin Latrobe and Dolley Madison Decorate the White House, 1809– 1811. Washington, DC: Smithsonian Institution. Mattern, D. B. 1998. “Dolley Madison Has the Last Word: The Famous Letter.” White House History 4: 38–43.

Mayo, E. P. 2000. “Party Politics: The Political Impact of the First Ladies’ Social Role.” The Social Science Journal 37: 577–590. McCormick, J. H. 1904 “The First Master of Ceremonies of the White House.” Records of the Columbia Historical Society 7: 170–194. Pitch, A. 1998. The Burning of Washington: The British Invasion of 1814. Annapolis: US Naval Institute Press.

Chapter Five

Elizabeth Monroe Finn Pollard

Family lore, based on what [James] Monroe’s elder daughter later reported, is that at some point after he left the presidency Monroe burned all personal correspondence. There is one letter that survives that was written by Elizabeth. There is one letter from James to her that survives. What baffles me and drives me nuts is there’s only one letter that she wrote to somebody else. She had an extensive correspondence with her sister and with her friends and these letters don’t seem to be anywhere. (First Ladies, 2013) Among the first ladies of the early national period, Elizabeth Monroe stands out because her own voice has been almost completely erased. Although personal correspondence between, say, George and Martha Washington or James and Dolley Madison is also thin, much other correspondence from those women remains, allowing us some access to their individual voices. The prolixity of the Adams family is well known. According to the interview with Daniel Preston, editor of the James Monroe Papers, quoted in the epigraph to this chapter, one letter from Elizabeth Monroe survives and presumably awaits publication in the appropriate volume of the

ongoing modern edition of the Monroe Papers; James’s one letter to her, meanwhile, is not especially informative. Nor are other documents of the period much more enlightening. As Harry Ammon noted in his biography of James Monroe, even such a voluminous account of the politics of the period as John Quincy Adams’s Diary “had almost nothing to say about the personal aspects” of the Monroe administration (Ammon, 1971: 403). We catch glimpses of Elizabeth as White House hostess in private correspondence and newspaper reports from those who attended her functions, and the Adams Diary and other writings touch occasionally on protocol questions concerning her, but even these give us only a limited sense of Elizabeth Monroe; and the use of all these documents for evaluating her as first lady is hampered by the fact that they frequently contradict each other. As a consequence of the limited primary record, historians have paid little attention to Elizabeth Monroe. The most useful and accessible short account is by Julie K. Fix (2001). Meghan C. Budinger’s (2013) essay provides helpful coverage of the personal side. Henry Ammon (1971) and Noble E. Cunningham (1996) have useful chapters on Washington in James Monroe’s day, but the principal collective studies of the first

A Companion to First Ladies, First Edition. Edited by Katherine A. S. Sibley. © 2016 John Wiley & Sons, Inc. Published 2016 by John Wiley & Sons, Inc.

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ladies, those of Betty Boyd Caroli (1987) and Carl Sferrazza Anthony (1990), consider her only in passing. Because Elizabeth Monroe cannot speak to us directly, this chapter will pay closer attention to such records as Adams’s, keeping an eye on who is doing the telling and in what ways the evidence is contradictory. That said, any account of this particular first lady cannot emphasize too strongly that we are always seeing her through somebody else’s eyes and consequently we can never be certain what her motives for a particular action may have been. We can make probably very good guesses on many occasions, but her own mind remains closed to us. Life before the White House Elizabeth Monroe was born on June 30, 1768 in New York City; she was the second of the five children of Captain Lawrence Kortright, a merchant “injured in his fortunes by the late [Seven Years’] war” (James Monroe to Thomas Jefferson, May 11, 1786 = Preston and DeLong, 2003–, 2: 299) and a former captain in the British army. Her mother Hannah died when Elizabeth was only nine years old, and Fix (2001: 37) suggested that her grandmother Hester Kortright, who went into business after the death of her own husband, was a significant influence on Elizabeth’s character. James Monroe, Elizabeth’s future husband, went to New York City for the first time in 1783 after his selection as delegate to Congress by the Virginia legislature. The two met there two years later and were married on February 16, 1786, when Elizabeth was only seventeen. She had already established for herself a reputation for beauty and taste that endured throughout her life. One of James’s colleagues described her as “the little smiling Venus” (Smith, 1981: 309). A  letter from James Monroe to Thomas Jefferson a few months after the event hints both at the somewhat

unexpected swiftness of the match and at the depth of James’s attachment: “You will be surpris’d to hear that I have form’d the most interesting connection in human life. … But … I have found that I must relinquish all other objects not connected with her” (Preston and DeLong, 2003–, 2: 299). Initially they settled in Fredericksburg, Virginia, where James took up practicing law. Attendance at court took him away from Elizabeth regularly, and it is from this period that his only surviving letter to her dates (printed in Preston and DeLong, 2003–, 2: 377–378). It is clear that life in small‐town Virginia would have been very different from life in New York City, but we do not know for certain how Elizabeth Monroe experienced it, although her husband later apparently “quipped that … she had become a good Virginian” (Preston, 2001, 1: xxii). It is obvious that she was missing her old home—something that James was well aware of, telling James Madison in 1789: “I had intended to have given Mrs. M. an opportunity of visiting her friends in N. Y’k. this year, but have latterly declin’d it. The expense of the trip & approaching heat of the season presents difficulties not to be surmounted” (Preston and DeLong, 2003–, 2: 467). Monroe’s concerns about his wife’s happiness underline Budinger’s (2013) emphasis on the depth of Monroe’s devotion to his wife and family, which in 1790 grew to include the couple’s first daughter, Eliza. Nevertheless, he was equally attached to public service, which he recommenced the year of Eliza’s birth, when he became a US senator; he continued in that service almost uninterruptedly until his retirement from the presidency in 1825. As Congress was initially located in Philadelphia, his work as a senator did enable Elizabeth, at least for a time, to see more of both him and her family in New York. A major concern for the new nation in the early 1790s was the relationship with France, ally during the War of Independence



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but now convulsed in its turn by revolution. The state of that relationship became embroiled in the developing partisan politics of the era. As a Democratic–Republican, Monroe believed in close ties with the sister  republic and was thus an obvious choice to replace the less pro‐revolutionary Gouverneur Morris as US minister to France after the French government’s request for Morris’s recall. Elizabeth and Eliza accompanied James there in 1794. These years in Paris are important for an understanding of Elizabeth Monroe. Although here as elsewhere we see her through others’ eyes, it is clear that the period had significant effects on her later service as first lady. First, she developed a love of the country. The Monroes were soon speaking French at home, a habit that endured. Although born of necessity (they could not afford to take furniture and other household goods with them), the setting up of a house in Paris inculcated a love for the French style, which later influenced—again, partly accidentally— their White House style. Second, she became familiar with and abided by European practices of etiquette, particularly with regard to diplomatic relations—practices that would colour her White House years. Finally, this period shows Elizabeth Monroe involved in some more public activities, something rarely visible in the surviving documentation. The most famous of these was her visit to the gate of Madame Marie Adrienne Françoise de La Fayette’s prison, a visit credited with shifting Parisian opinion in Madame de La Fayette’s favour and paving the way to her release. The Frenchwoman thus avoided the fate of her grandmother, mother, and sister, who had already been guillotined. James Monroe described the incident in detail in his unpublished autobiography (Brown, 1959: 70–71). The activity with the most evident impact on the future was related to Elizabeth’s role in Paris as hostess. It is unclear from the existing literature whether

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it was during this first stay in France or ­during the one that commenced in 1803 that she came to be referred to by the French as la belle Americaine. As far as can be determined, the original source of this story was published in the Philadelphia Times and reprinted soon afterwards in Daniel Cott Gilman’s (1885) biography of Monroe. It states: You remember Mrs. – told us that when Mr. Monroe was sent as Minister to France, Mrs. Monroe accompanied him, and in Paris she was called la belle Americaine. She also told us that she was quite a belle in New York in the latter part of the Revolutionary War. (Gilman, 1885: 215–216)

Given that James Monroe was in France in 1803 not as official minister but for a specific purpose, namely to negotiate the Louisiana Purchase, the inference seems fairly clear that the nickname dated to the 1790s, as Fix (2001) suggests; and this is corroborated by accounts of a lavish celebration for the fourth of July 1795 that was arranged by Monroe, but in which we can probably assume his wife was involved. However, Budinger (2013: 481) appears to date Elizabeth’s nickname to the 1803 visit and adds the claim that Napoleon had so described her. It is not clear what evidence, if any, this claim is based on. In either case, the appellative la belle Americaine is suggestive of Elizabeth’s talents as a hostess and has clear links with her work later in the White House. There are other snippets of evidence that Elizabeth Monroe involved herself in other aspects of her husband’s professional concerns, albeit with the limitations on female activity that were customary at the period. Thus Monroe’s letters home describe her attempts to persuade the aunt of Justin Pierre Plumard Comte De Rieux (a French friend of Thomas Jefferson’s) to give her nephew financial assistance (Preston and DeLong, 2003–, 3: 381–382; Hamilton,

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1898–1903, 3: 47–48); in addition, an early account of Thomas Paine’s fairly miserable experiences in Paris at this time records his gratitude to her for care received (Morgan, 1921: 192). Following the couple’s return from Paris, James’s public service continued with three terms as governor of Virginia (1799–1803), a further period of diplomatic service (1803–1807) as representative to France, Britain and Spain, and appointment as secretary of state in 1811. This appointment, made by Madison, followed the happy resolution of a fallout between the two men in 1808 (when Monroe had challenged Madison for the democratic–republican presidential nomination). For this period references to Elizabeth Monroe in the surviving sources are especially thin. Writing to Mary Ellis shortly after the Monroes’ return to the States in 1797, William Wirt—a Virginia lawyer and, later, Monroe’s attorney general—found Elizabeth the “very model of a perfect matron,” but in a manner that still had a “little too much of New York” (Ammon, 1971: 163). In Paris, in 1803, she resumed her earlier role of hostess, yet references to her in her husband’s published correspondence are confined to commentary on her health and messages of goodwill to friends in which she joins him. It is clear that her health suffered during this European sojourn and never wholly recovered. Climatic conditions in London played a part (Hamilton, 1898–1903, 3: 160–161, 397). In 1803 she gave birth to a third and last child, Maria Hester. A son, James Spence Monroe, died of whooping cough in May 1799, at the age of sixteen months, and it is suggested that she also suffered a number of miscarriages, implied by longer than usual gaps between her children’s births during a time when birth control was unavailable. Following Monroe’s appointment to the state department, Elizabeth comes back into slightly clearer focus, and her image during

this period bears significant similarities to her image as first lady. For both periods there is varied evidence concerning the Monroes’ involvement in society and their entertaining practices. The most extreme note is struck by Margaret Bayard Smith, in a letter of November 1817 that baldly states: “Altho’ they have lived 7 years in W.[ashington] both Mr. and Mrs. Monroe are perfect strangers not only to me but all the citizens” (Smith, 1906: 141). The British minister agreed, noting that the Monroes “entertained very sparingly.” By contrast, Congressman William Lowndes of South Carolina reported to his wife in February 1812 that he had dined with Monroe and “everybody agrees that he gives the best dinners in Washington” (Ravenel, 1901: 101). To color such reports, we must consider that Smith had been close to the Madisons, British–American relations at this period were poor, and, by contrast, Lowndes’s wife had known the Monroes during their time in Europe. Corroboration of the Lowndes’ perspective is given by Mary Boardman Crowninshield, wife of the secretary of the navy, who seems to have been somewhat overwhelmed by the richness of the Monroes’ table when she dined there in December 1815. She noted: “We had there the most stylish dinner I have been at”; also “the forks [were] silver, and so heavy I could hardly lift them to my mouth” (Boardman, 1905: 19–20). Utterly captivated, unlike her aunt, was Mary, Mrs. Smith’s niece, who informed her mother after a December 1816 reception at the tail end of the Madison administration: “With Mrs. Munroe I am really in love. If I was a Washingtonian you might say I worshipped the rising sun – but as I am not, you will believe my adoration sincere” (Smith, 1906: 134). The fact that Mrs. Smith was also at this reception casts some doubt on her subsequent claim that the Monroes were perfect strangers. Her niece’s testimony is particularly useful, because our other two positive witnesses had particular connections



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with the Monroes: Mrs. Lowndes’s friendship has been noted, and Mrs. Crowninshield was a neighbour. Fix (2001: 40) insists that the Monroes played a limited role in Washington society in this period; Ammon (1971), however, presents a more balanced picture. Those who recorded observations of Elizabeth Monroe at this time usually commented on her appearance. Josephine Seaton, wife of the editor of the National Intelligencer, recorded Elizabeth’s attendance at two social events in this period: a dinner on board the US navy ship Constellation in November 1812 and the Gallatins’ New Year’s Day ball of 1813. About her appearance at the latter, Seaton commented: “she paints very much, and has besides an appearance of youth which would induce a stranger to suppose her age to be thirty” (Seaton, 1871: 91). She was forty‐ five at the time. Mrs. Crowninshield, at the dinner already referred to, found her “a very elegant woman.” In a subsequent letter, however, Elizabeth Monroe appears to be “a very large woman,” a description at variance with what we otherwise know of her (Boardman, 1905: 19, 55). Comments on her health also become more frequent from this period onwards. These years also feature one other mysterious episode in the form of a letter to Elizabeth from her son‐in‐law George Hay in 1815 asking her to consult with James Monroe and to “give us your opinion of the proper course to be pursued” (Anthony, 1990: 106). The matter appears to have involved the democratic–republican politician John Randolph and the governor of New York or his wife or both, but it is not clear what the issue was and it is thus impossible to draw from it any wider conclusions about Elizabeth’s public role. Apart from the narrative of the visit to Madame de La Fayette, this is the only document mentioned in the literature that gives any hint of Elizabeth’s activities outside the social and family spheres.

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Elizabeth as First Lady James Monroe’s election to the presidency in 1817 was the climax of his political career. However, it is clear that by that time Elizabeth Monroe was a sick woman; and her health is the most obvious determinant of the way her first ladyship unfolded. This section will consider both what we know about her time as first lady and how far her performance can be seen as significant for the evolution of the office. The key scholarly examinations of Elizabeth Monroe as first lady are Ammon (1971), Caroli (1987), Anthony (1990), Cunningham (1996), and Fix (2001), and all except one are part of larger studies. The main points common to all accounts are (1) the contrast between the Monroe and the Madison presidencies in terms of presidential entertainment and etiquette and in consequence of the growth of Washington society (which rendered impracticable certain aspects of the Madisons’ approach, particularly Dolley Madison’s practice of making first calls on newly arrived congressmen’s wives); and (2) Elizabeth Monroe’s health, personal style, and contribution to the furnishings and décor of the building. Scholars do not significantly differ on these points, though there is at times confusion with regard to the primary evidence, and they largely agree in not seeing her as an especially significant first lady. Elizabeth Monroe’s health had been variable since her husband’s diplomatic service in London, but the volume of comments on it increases in the surviving references from her White House years, though this may have been related to the increased prominence of her position. Letters from her husband refer to her health in July 1820, May and September 1821, September 1822, and July, August, and October 1824. John Quincy Adams noted the topic in his Diary in November 1820, July 1824, and April 1825. Louisa Catherine Adams noted it in hers in April, May, and November

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1820 and November 1823. Even in the first term, despite rumors to the contrary voiced in the press, her health was too fragile for her to participate in any of her husband’s presidential tours. During James’ second term Elizabeth was increasingly absent from the White House. This meant, given the social conventions of the day, that dinners were stag; wives and daughters could not attend, a situation that, according to Senator Elijah Mills of Massachusetts, occasioned “no little mortification and disappointment” (Caroli, 1987: 18). When Monroe’s second term ended, their departure from the White House was delayed on account of her health. Given the reputation she acquired during the 1790s in France as a hostess, it is likely that a healthier Elizabeth Monroe would have approached the position differently. The area where her specific participation as first lady is clearest is that of disputes over presidential etiquette. The tension in the new republic between such degree of ceremony as might be required in order to maintain authority, and a republican doctrine of equality—one coupled with a postrevolutionary mistrust, at least in some minds, of anything that smacked of return to royalty— had made this a tricky matter from the outset. Solutions tended to vary with the incumbent. By the time of the Monroes, the problem embraced three distinct issues: relations with the diplomatic corps; exactly who should be admitted when presidential receptions occurred; and how the president’s wife should conduct social relations with the other wives and women of Washington, DC. Most of the critical attention has focused on the third of these points and on the criticism that Elizabeth Monroe was undeniably subjected to, from some quarters, on account of her changes to the practice, as it had become established. It should be noted that some contemporaries did acknowledge that practices had always varied. The most extended instance of this is an article published in the National Register in

December 1817, which surveyed the whole practice of presidential etiquette going back to Washington and to which we shall return (see Mead, 1817). Before the Monroes, presidential behavior had oscillated between poles of formality. Although George Washington had not favored elaborate titles for himself as president, his very manner brought a strong degree of decorum to his performance of the role. Jefferson had gone to the other extreme, most notably with the application of a policy of pell mell to the dinner table, which is summed up in a memorandum of 1803: At public ceremonies, to which the government invites the presence of foreign ministers and their families, a convenient seat or station will be provided for them, with any other strangers invited and the families of the national ministers, each taking place as they arrive, and without any precedence. (Jefferson, 1984: 705)

Jefferson and Madison had permitted the diplomatic corps to turn up freely for informal chats, but Monroe did not continue this practice. Instead the Monroes brought their own personal characteristics and context to the table. First, their extensive time spent at the courts of Europe had on them an effect opposite to the one that similar experiences had on Jefferson, convincing them of the need for more formality than he had allowed. Second, Elizabeth Monroe’s health necessitated greater restrictions on her public role than any of her predecessors had required. Further, the Monroes took over in Washington at a time when the character of that city was rendering impractical the then established social practices of the first lady. The key change here was the expanding population of diplomats and other dignitaries, and particularly the increased number of official wives who, under the system practiced by Dolley Madison, would be entitled to presidential social attention.



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There was little controversy regarding the ending of informal diplomatic consultation. By the end of the Madison administration hardly any diplomats were taking advantage of this option (Ammon, 1971: 396–397). About the degree of formality at presidential dinners there are varying accounts. James Fenimore Cooper observed: “When dinner was announced, the oldest Senator present … took Mrs. Monroe and led her to the table. The rest of the party followed without much order. The President took a lady, as usual, and preceded the rest of the guests” (Cooper, 1826, 2: 54). But Fix (2001: 42) records that “[d]inners at the White House were formal and served in the European style, with one waiter per guest”—a claim not supported for the dinner Cooper describes. What to do about other parts of White House entertainment was more problematic, and a word on terminology is necessary first. George Washington began the tradition of holding a formal presidential reception or levée (the term commonly used and borrowed from European practice) each week, and his wife Martha also held a separate “drawing room” that members of both sexes attended. During Dolley Madison’s time as first lady these two functions were merged, and the combined result was usually referred to as “the presidential drawing rooms” (Fix, 2001: 42; Ammon, 1971: 399). Informal refreshments and music were often provided. Elizabeth Monroe inherited this system and during her time as first lady there was debate as to whether the system should be continued at all and, if continued, how formal and of what character it should be; but these questions remained unresolved. Fix (2001) records an occasion when a relative of Mrs. Monroe’s was turned away from a drawing room for being improperly dressed; but this seems to be based on an 1891 history of the early presidential families that remains unsubstantiated (Upton 1891: 272). One anonymous English observer declared that the drawing rooms

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were “conducted on principles of republican simplicity, and are widely different from the magnificence and splendour of the English levees” (Hines, 1818). Abner Lacock, a former senator from Pennsylvania, advised Monroe in 1821 to dispense with the drawing rooms altogether, although with its references to “miserable pageantry” and a supposed dismissive reaction from “the honest yeomanry” his letter seems a repetition of the old charges against formality in general as much as a complaint about anything specific to the Monroes (Cunningham, 1996: 134– 135). Monroe evidently desired to draw some limits; in December 1819 Adams’s Diary records a complaint from the president about a navy department clerk and “an English servant of Antrobus” trying wrongfully to get in. Adams thought that Monroe “appeared to regret that he had not laid them aside altogether” (Adams, 1874– 1877, 4: 493–494). There were problems in getting to these events even if one was entirely eligible, as Adams’s wife Louisa recorded in her diary in February 1819: Went to the President’s in the evening and had to sit three quarters of an hour in the Carriage literally at the risk of life – As we cannot have recourse to Constables the Hackney Coachmen are Masters of the field and the confusion bad language quarreling and noise exceed every thing I ever heard in any Country. (Adams, 2013, 2: 419)

In the end the drawing rooms continued, and further regulations regarding attendance were not instituted. Yet these low‐level disputes paled beside the one regarding the first lady’s social relations, where Elizabeth Monroe did implement a significant change. As Mrs. Seaton recorded in March 1818: It is said that the dinner‐parties of Mrs. Monroe will be very select. Mrs. Hay [her daughter] … returns visits paid to her mother, making assurances, in the most pointedly polite manner, that Mrs. Monroe

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will be happy to see her friends morning or evening, but her health is totally inadequate to visiting at present! Mrs. Hay is understood to be her proxy, and there this much agitated and important question ends; and as there is no ­distinction made, but all treated alike, I suppose it will eventually go down, though this alteration in the old régime was bitter to the palates of all our citizens, especially so to foreign ministers and strangers. (Seaton, 1871: 136)

The “old régime” referred to here was that of Elizabeth’s predecessor Dolley Madison, who had made the first call on all  congressmen’s wives newly arrived in Washington. The bitterness is echoed in some other sources. Kathryn Allamong Jacob (1995: 18) says that Mrs. Seaton described the change as “earthquake, upheaval and cyclone,” but she draws on secondary sources for this quotation. I have examined all of those she lists and in none of them is the original source of the quotation given; nor are these words cited as a quotation or attributed to Mrs. Seaton in the oldest of her sources. It is also curious that the words do not appear in Seaton (1871). Galliard Hunt, editor of the Margaret Bayard Smith letters, claims in a footnote that, on account of the refusal of both Mrs. Monroe and Mrs. Hay to pay visits, “there was a feud between them and the diplomatic corps”— probably a muddling of two different etiquette issues, namely the president’s reception of members of the diplomatic corps and the first lady’s paying of visits. Smith herself (1906: 141–142) corroborates the change of tone, but not any ensuing bitterness. The anonymous author of the 1817 National Register article, however, included a denunciation from an equally anonymous disgusted denizen of Washington, who protested: “If such be her plans, I answer for one, she will not hold her popularity long” (Mead, 1817). There were related complaints that the wives of heads of department were also departing from

custom, which caused problems for the aspirant presidents in Monroe’s Cabinets (that is, for most of that body’s membership most of the time) and forced Cabinet meetings and extended correspondence, in December 1819 and January 1820, over the etiquette issue (Adams, 1874–1877: 479– 493, 511). The critical Mrs. Seaton provides evidence for one poorly attended drawing room in December 1819: “The drawing room of the President was opened last night … to a beggarly row of empty chairs … Only five females attended, three of whom were foreigners” (Seaton, 1871: 144). Nevertheless, two other factors confuse both the picture of Elizabeth Monroe at war with Washington society and the obvious explanation that her health was the most significant factor in the change: other accounts of her and her drawing rooms, which find them full; and broader changes in the character of Washington City that, as historians have acknowledged, necessitated the abandonment of the Dolley Madison model and of which some contemporaries were aware. The discrepancy between accounts is partly one of chronology. Accounts of poor drawing room attendance number the 1819 instance just referred to and a January 1823 incident recorded by Louisa Adams (Adams 2013: 2: 664–665). However, in newspapers from April 1818 there are two accounts referring, at least in one instance, to a crowded drawing room in February 1818, after the change in policy (Spear, 1818; Hines, 1818). Thus either the reaction to Elizabeth Monroe’s change was somewhat delayed or there was some additional cause of friction in December 1819, which precipitated the row already discussed. Since drawing rooms were usually held when Congress was in session, the dates of these sessions are pertinent here. Congress sat between December 1817 and April 1818, between November 1818 and March 1819, and between December 1819 and May 1820. An 1818 newspaper report suggests



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that, at least for the first of those sessions, drawing rooms were regular: “Every other Wednesday evening Mrs. Monroe holds a drawing room” (Converse, 1818). The most likely explanation for the deterioration in 1819 would seem to be that their regularity had declined on account of Elizabeth’s state of health; but, given the comparatively frequent comments on her health from 1820 onward, it is odd that neither the Adamses nor Monroe himself mentioned her condition as an issue during this earlier period. Another possible explanation is suggested by an entry in Adams’s Diary for December 12, 1818 that records Mrs. Monroe as telling him “that the ladies of some Senators did not visit her, because she had adopted the rule of not returning visits; but they accepted invitations to her house” (Adams, 1874–1877, 4: 189). On this basis it seems that visits and drawing room attendance may have been conflated, though the apparent gap between when the new visiting policy was supposedly adopted and the point when some rebelled is still not wholly explained; it is also unclear how big that rebellion was. A third and convincing explanation—though it does not appear to be founded on documentary evidence specifically related to Elizabeth Monroe—is that, while there had been ongoing issues arising out of Elizabeth’s refusal to make calls, the key precipitants of the 1819 crisis were actually John Quincy and Louisa Catherine Adams and their campaign for the presidential succession. Allgor sees the Adamses as the main force in a process of change during Monroe’s second administration that made the social dimension of Washington life more critical to political campaigning than was previously the case, as a hotly contested presidential election loomed (Allgor, 2000: 147–165; see also the chapter on Louisa Adams in this volume). Louisa Catherine Adams clearly became a central, possibly the central figure in Washington’s social leadership during James Monroe’s second term; but it is important to note that she was

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equally subject to periods of ill health, and that Elizabeth Monroe did continue to entertain. The documentary record is thin as regards the precise relationship between the two women. The other discrepancy in our accounts arises because, when Elizabeth Monroe does figure, she usually appears in a positive light. There are familiar admiring comments on her beauty. Even in 1821, Louisa Adams could still write of attending a drawing room: “On these occasions we all endeavour to look well but even when looking our best altho’ certain of being always eclipsed by the Soveriegn Lady of the mansion” (Adams, 2013, 2: 564). Most accounts also comment favorably and in some detail on her clothing, and there is evidence that she always had a taste for fine garments. Her manners also were praised; Harrison Gray Otis finds her “most exceedingly gracious and conversible” at a dinner in January 1821 (Ammon, 1971: 403). As usual, there were dissenters, notably William C. Reeves, who after dining at the White House in December 1823 complained to his wife that he had “scarcely ever [seen] a more scanty or meagre dinner” (Cunningham, 1996: 140). While in 1818 Louisa Adams acknowledged that Elizabeth was not as popular as Dolley Madison, in 1819 Rose Stier Calvert found her “much superior” (Budinger, 2013: 484). Once again, contradictory reports. The chief change in the character of Washington City was summed up by the anonymous author of the 1817 National Register article: “the population of Washington and the District is rapidly and daily increasing, and this [visits to all the wives] is a ceremony which must, from the nature of things, be, in time, abolished” (Mead, 1817). Improvements in transportation beyond the capital, particularly the advent of the steamboat, were a key factor in this growth, in addition to the fact that more congressional wives were generally choosing to travel there with their

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husbands, which made the calling system of Dolley Madison increasingly untenable. The issue of numbers was exacerbated by the continuing poor state of roads within Washington, which rendered visits an additional trial. Finally, sources of entertainment beyond the political social round were few, a situation that intensified feelings about changes to its character. Young (1966: 41–48) provides an evocative description of the capital in this period. Ammon (1971: 398) and Fix (2001: 41) noted these justifications for the Monroe era change, but have perhaps given less weight than is deserved to the point that they were recognized as issues by contemporaries. In other words, Elizabeth Monroe was not a single voice of her time making an arbitrary change to a custom; others recognized it as unavoidable. Before leaving the etiquette question, two other specific social episodes should be noted. In December 1818, the French minister Hyde de Neuville hoped that Monroe would attend a ball he was giving. The president conformed to the principle, established since Washington, of not visiting the house of a foreign minister, and Elizabeth Monroe followed suit. John Quincy Adams’s account of the affair is suggestive: the matter was apparently left to her decision because “we [the members of the Cabinet] could have no deliberation” (Adams, 1875– 1877: 4: 188). In the end Mrs. Hay went but insisted it be made quite clear that she would not be given any particular treatment, on grounds of her father’s station. The second episode was the marriage in 1820 of Elizabeth Monroe’s younger daughter Hester to Samuel Lawrence Gouverneur, which was done in the “New York style,” with only family friends invited (Seaton, 1871: 148). Societal discontent is again difficult to measure, but it is interesting that the tone of Seaton’s letter does not appear critical. If such criticism did exist, likely it was alleviated by plans for public balls subsequent to the wedding itself,

though only one took place, as the programme was curtailed by the death of Commodore Stephen Decatur in a duel. Away from the etiquette question, the other area where there is some evidence of Elizabeth Monroe’s influence is that of the furnishing and decorating of the rebuilt White House. The Monroes were the first presidential couple to be able to return to the White House after its burning during the War of 1812, though it is clear that, for much of the first term, building works were ongoing. Congress was typically behind in supplying new furniture, so the Monroes initially used their own items brought back from Paris and ultimately received payment for much of it to remain in situ (Jefferson had also used his own furniture but removed it upon retirement). The main evidence that Elizabeth Monroe was involved in purchasing other items is a letter from James Monroe to Samuel Lane, the superintendent of public buildings, in May 1818: We shall want for the Eastern room one chandelier, and perhaps silk to make the curtains, if not to cover the chairs. These articles had better be sent for to Mr[.] Russell [probably Joseph Russell of an American firm at Le Havre: Seale, 2008, 1: 152]. It may perhaps be better, to send them the height, and size of the windows, and have the curtains made in France for them. On these points Mrs. Monroe will decide. (Cunningham, 1996: 145)

However, William Seale (2008, 1: 151) questions her having any significant role. Nor were the Monroe furnishings established in unbroken permanency in the House, key pieces being sold off at auction in 1860. Still, as first ladies and others came to regard the preservation and presentation of the White House’s history as important, the Monroe furnishings have gained significance as being among the first pieces in the rebuilt House following its burning. This is first seen in 1932, when Lou Henry Hoover



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sought to recreate a second‐floor drawing room, recorded in an inventory of Monroe’s time as it might have looked then. This was achieved by commissioning replicas of furniture on the basis of pieces in the Monroe Law Office Museum in Fredericksburg and through donations from Monroe descendants and other sources (Seale, 2008, 2: 164– 165). Interest was renewed during Jackie Kennedy’s time as first lady. One Monroe table was recovered from the House’s carpentry shop where it had been forgotten, other items were purchased and donated (further items have been recovered since then), and some copies were made, modeled on the originals (Inside the White House, 2013; Seale, 2008, 2: 346). Two other traces of Elizabeth Monroe during this period may be noted. The first is the extensive account the New England clergyman Horace Holley wrote in April 1818 of his meeting with Mrs. Monroe. This document notably records the latter’s views on portraiture as part of a discussion of Gilbert Stuart’s portrait of James Monroe then in progress that Holley, but not the Monroes, had seen. The clergyman recalled saying to Elizabeth: You will be pleased with it, but will observe immediately, when you see it, that your husband was sun‐burnt as a traveller ought to be, and that the artist has been so long in the habit of copying faithfully what he sees that he has given this in the shading of the picture.

To which Elizabeth responded: “I shall not like it the less for that. I think Stewart [sic] generally makes the colour of the cheeks too  brilliant, especially in the portraits of men,  as in that of General Washington” (Cunningham, 1996: 143). Given the thinness of the documentary record on Elizabeth Monroe, this is a particularly important source. The other trace is more curious. This was a newspaper advertisement that appeared in

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1818 announcing the forthcoming publication of Desultory Observations on Female Influence, on the Morals and Politesse of the present state of Society, which was to be dedicated to Mrs. Monroe, “the Lady of the President.” The book was to be written by George Jefferys, but it is not listed in the Library of Congress catalogue and it seems possible that it may have been a spoof related to the etiquette question and thus a book that never actually appeared (Goddard, 1818: 138). It remains to evaluate the significance of Elizabeth Monroe’s occupancy of the White House, particularly in terms of precedents that may have been set for her successors. In  terms of the conduct of presidential receptions, this was an ongoing battle that was not concluded by her, and where she revived rather than originated the attempt at a more formal approach. Her influence is clearer with respect to the alteration in the practice of making visits, although, as we have seen, she was not alone in perceiving a problem and it is arguable that some alteration was inevitable around this period. It has been suggested that she, like Dolley Madison, “used social events to strengthen and facilitate” her husband’s presidency (Allgor, 2001: 49). If true, this was, again, a continuation of a practice begun by others, but the evidence does not seem at all clear on this point. There is scope for a further consideration of the relationship between the social and non‐social sides of the Monroes’ presidency, a key element in illustrating the role and history of first ladies, though the problem of sources on how the Monroes dealt with this may be the reason why this research has not been undertaken. Ironically, Elizabeth’s most significant bequest should perhaps be considered the delegation of authority to her daughter, although it is impossible to know whether this was intended to set a precedent or was simply an unavoidable response to her own ill health. Contemporary observations are divided between suggestions that she would

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have preferred a life of private obscurity and views that saw her radiant at receptions. Given the reputation she apparently established in France, the latter position seems more tenable. As it turned out, following her pattern, six of her nineteenth‐century successors as presidential wives delegated the hostess aspect of the job to daughters and daughters‐in‐law, on grounds of either poor health or grief (Caroli, 1987: 34–35). However, it is questionable whether what she did here can be regarded as establishing a precedent. Her immediate successor Louisa Adams did not follow it. Health issues were often significant for post‐Civil War first ladies but rarely in this sense, and most of those who held the office were wives of the president and involved in an ongoing expansion of its scope and responsibilities well beyond its pre‐Civil War character, particularly from the early twentieth century (Caroli, 1987). Clearly there is room for further consideration of first ladies and their illnesses. After the White House By the time James Monroe’s second term ended, Elizabeth’s health was in serious decline. Shortly before his term expired, Monroe commented sadly to Jefferson that the “cares of my long public service, have bourne too heavily” on her (Hamilton, 1898–1903: 7: 43). The Monroes retired to Oak Hill, Virginia. She was still capable, in 1825 and in 1828, of making the journey to their youngest daughter in New York City, but her health overall was poor, sufficiently so for Monroe to decline the suggestion of further public service in October 1826. A  particularly critical episode occurred two months later, when she suffered a seizure in her bedchamber and was found with severe burns and a wound from landing on an andiron. By 1828 James Monroe’s health was also in decline. No contemporary remarks beyond his own correspondence have been

identified. His unfinished autobiography contains a heartfelt brief tribute to her, though she sadly figures little beyond that (Brown, 1959: 49). Elizabeth Monroe died at Oak Hill on September 23, 1830. Two posthumous reflections—from Monroe himself, writing in December 1830 to a friend who had also recently lost his wife (Budinger, 2013: 487), and from John Quincy Adams, in his eulogy to Monroe after the latter’s death in 1831 (Adams, 1831: 40)—emphasize how important Elizabeth was to Monroe’s life. However, they do not enlighten further as to her significance beyond the personal. Conclusion What, finally, is to be made of Elizabeth Monroe? The destruction of her personal papers creates a permanent barrier to getting in any depth at how she experienced being first lady. There is evidence for both continuity and change in her activities in that role, but she cannot ultimately be seen as an especially significant occupant of the office. Perhaps her greatest significance, unfashionable though it may be to suggest this, may be glimpsed from James Monroe’s sad posthumous reflection on her as the person who could afford him comforts “which no other person on earth can so do” and whose loss was “an affliction, which none but those who feel it, can justly estimate” (Budinger, 2013: 487). References Adams, C. F., ed. 1874–1877. Memoirs of John Quincy Adams, Comprising Portions of His Diary from 1795 to 1848. Philadelphia, PA: J. B. Lippincott. Adams, J. Q. 1831. A Eulogy on the Life and  Character of James Monroe. Boston: J. H. Eastburn. Adams, L. C. 2013. Diary and Autobiographical Writings of Louisa Catherine Adams, edited by



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J. S. Graham, B. Luey, M. A. Hogan, and C.  J.   Taylor. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Allgor, C. 2000. Parlor Politics: In Which the Ladies of Washington Help Build a City and a Government. Charlottesville: University of Virginia Press. Allgor, C. 2001. “Political Parties: First Ladies and Social Events in the Formation of the Federal Government.” In The Presidential Companion: Readings on the First Ladies, edited by R. P. Watson and A. J. Eksterowicz, 35–53. Columbia: University of South Carolina Press. Ammon, H. 1971. James Monroe: The Quest for National Identity. New York: McGraw‐Hill. Anthony, C. S. 1990. First Ladies: The Saga of the Presidents’ Wives and Their Power, 1789–1990. New York: Quill/William Morrow. Boardman, F., ed. 1905. Letters of Mary Boardman Crowninshield, 1815–1816. Cambridge, MA: Riverside Press. Brown, S. G., ed. 1959. The Autobiography of James Monroe. Syracuse, NY: Syracuse University Press. Budinger, M. C. 2013. “The Domestic Life of James Monroe: The Man at Home.” In A Companion to James Madison and James Monroe, edited by S. Leibiger, 472–488. Oxford: Wiley Blackwell. Caroli, B. B. 1987. First Ladies. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Converse, S., publisher. 1818. “From Washington.” Connecticut Journal 51 (2625), February 17. New Haven, CT. Early American Newspapers, Series 1 (1690–1876). http:// w ww. r e a d e x . c o m / s i t e s / d e f a u l t / f i l e s / productflyers/EAN‐series1‐flyer.pdf (accessed November 28, 2015). Cooper, J. F. 1826. Notions of the Americans picked up by a travelling bachelor. Philadelphia, PA: Carey, Lea & Carey. Cunningham, N. E. 1996. The Presidency of James Monroe. Kansas: University Press of Kansas. First Ladies. 2013. “Elizabeth Monroe and Louisa Adams.” In First Ladies: Influence & Image. C‐SPAN. http://firstladies.c‐span. org/FirstLady/6/Elizabeth‐Monroe.aspx (accessed December 20, 2013). Fix, J. K. 2001. “Elizabeth Kortright Monroe.” In American First Ladies: Their Lives and Legacies, edited by L. L. Gould, 37–44. New York: Routledge.

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Gilman, D. C. 1885. James Monroe. New York: Houghton Mifflin. Goddard, W. G., publisher. 1818. “From the Boston Daily Advertiser: Literary Intelligence.” Rhode‐Island American, and General Advertiser 11 (4), October 20. Early American Newspapers, Series 1 (1690–1876). http://www.readex.com/sites/default/files/ productflyers/EAN‐series1‐flyer.pdf (accessed November 28, 2015). Hamilton, S. M., ed. 1898–1903. The Writings of James Monroe. New York: G. P. Putnam’s Sons. Hines, J. B., ed. 1818. Extract from Letters from Washington on the Constitution, Laws, and Public Character of the United States by a Foreigner. The Reflector 1 (25), April 28. Milledgeville, Georgia. Early American Newspapers, Series 1 (1690–1876). http:// w ww. r ea d e x .c o m / si t e s/ d e fa u l t /f i l e s/ productflyers/EAN‐series1‐flyer.pdf (accessed November 28, 2015). Inside the White House. 2013. “Public Tour by Room: The Blue Room.” http://www.white house.gov/about/inside‐white‐house/ rooms#rooms (accessed December 20, 2013). Jacob, K. A. 1995. Capital Elites: High Society in Washington, D.C., after the Civil War. Washington, DC: Smithsonian Institute Press. Jefferson, T. 1984. Writings. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Mead, J. K., ed. 1817. “The Drawing Room.” National Register 4 (24), December 13: 371– 372. Morgan, G. 1921. The Life of James Monroe. Boston: Small, Maynard. Preston, D. 2001. A Comprehensive Catalogue of the Correspondence and Papers of James Monroe, 2 vols. Westport, CT: Greenwood Press. Preston, D., and DeLong, M., eds. 2003–. The Papers of James Monroe, vols. 1–9 (5 vols. published so far). Westport, CT: Greenwood Press. Ravenel, H. H. 1901. Life and Times of William Lowndes. New York: Houghton, Mifflin. Seale, W. 2008. The President’s House: A History. Baltimore, MD: Johns Hopkins University Press. Seaton, J. 1871. William Winston Seaton of the “National Intelligencer”: A Biographical Sketch. Boston: James R. Osgood.

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Smith, M. B. 1906. The First Forty Years of Washington Society. New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons. Smith, P. H., ed. 1981. Letters of Delegates to the Continental Congress. Vol. 8: September 19, 1777–January 31, 1778. Washington, DC: Library of Congress. Spear, J. C., publisher. 1818. Extract of “A Letter from a Lady in Washington.” Concord Gazette 11 (46), April 21. Early American Newspapers, Series 1 (1690–1876). http://www.readex. com/sites/default/files/productflyers/EAN‐ series1‐flyer.pdf (accessed November 28, 2015). Upton, H. T. 1891. Our Early Presidents: Their Wives and Children. Boston: D. Lothrop.

Young, J. S. 1966. The Washington Community, 1800–1828. New York: Columbia University Press.

Further Reading Allgor, C. 2000. Parlor Politics: In Which the Ladies of Washington Help Build a City and a Government. Charlottesville: University Press of Virginia. Wootton, J. E. 1987. Elizabeth Kortright Monroe. Ash‐Lawn Highland, VA: Ash‐Lawn Highland.

Chapter Six

A Monarch in a Republic: Louisa Catherine Johnson Adams and Court Culture in Early Washington City* Catherine Allgor, Margery M. Heffron and Amanda Mathews Norton

A Woman “Who Was” English‐born Louisa Catherine Johnson Adams holds a unique distinction as America’s only foreign‐born first lady. For the Americans who are even aware of the name of “Mrs. John Quincy Adams,” this may be all they know. Such a characterization does not acknowledge that, until Eleanor Roosevelt, Louisa was probably the most literate and educated woman to occupy that same position. All of her life, including during her White House years, Louisa carried on an extensive correspondence with friends and with her natal and marital families—her spirited exchanges with her father‐in‐law, John Adams, were particularly fine—and produced poems, plays, diary entries, and essays. She has left for historians two astonishing autobiographical documents—“Record of a Life, or My Story” and the evocatively titled “Adventures of a Nobody”—along with the thrilling “Narrative of a Journey from Russia

to France, 1815.” Louisa desperately wanted to be remembered as “one, who was”; in this she succeeded, contradicting her own appellation by proving herself to be an irrefutable “somebody” (Challinor, 1982: 519). The dearth of scholarship on Louisa Adams is due only partly to her gender, which has relegated many female historical subjects to obscurity. For, in addition to being overshadowed by her famous and public husband, Louisa as a historical subject cannot compete with her celebrated mother‐ in‐law, Abigail Adams. A formidable intellect and talented writer, Abigail has attracted scholars and popular historians alike, partly because of her obviously loving relationship with her husband, John Adams, one of the liveliest and relatable of the founders. Louisa and John Quincy loved each other passionately, but their marital path was not always smooth. The rather cold and forbidding public face of John Quincy, moreover, has deflected interest from Louisa. As biographers

*Note Portions of this chapter were previously published in A Companion to John Adams and John Quincy Adams, edited by David Waldstreicher. © 2013 John Wiley & Sons, Ltd. Published 2013 by John Wiley & Sons, Ltd. A Companion to First Ladies, First Edition. Edited by Katherine A. S. Sibley. © 2016 John Wiley & Sons, Inc. Published 2016 by John Wiley & Sons, Inc.

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are less attracted to her husband, they are unlikely to encounter her. Indeed most scholars who have taken Louisa as a topic have discovered her while researching or documenting more conventional studies of the male Adamses. Lyman H. Butterfield, for example—the founding editor of the Adams Papers and the first editor in chief of this project—immediately grasped Louisa’s historical potential, which he sketched out in an article titled “Tending a Dragon‐Killer” (Butterfield, 1974). Jack Shepherd became interested in Louisa Adams when he wrote The Adams Chronicles: Four Generations of Greatness (Shepherd, 1975), a companion book for the PBS series; and he went on to write a joint biography, Cannibals of the Heart: A Personal Biography of Louisa Catherine and John Quincy Adams (Shepherd, 1980). Likewise, Paul C. Nagel was so captivated by the Adams women, including Louisa, whom he came across while writing Descent from Glory (Nagel, 1983) that he devoted to them a whole volume, titled The Adams Women: Abigail and Louisa Adams, Their Sisters and Daughters (Nagel, 1987). Still, very few have considered Louisa Adams’s political work and significance. This neglect can be attributed to the larger convention of seeing female subjects, especially in an era before suffrage, only in personal ways. In addition, the men who wrote of her worked within biographical conventions that, except for the redoubtable Abigail, did not consider women in political terms. Even after writing at length about Louisa, when it came to his later full‐length biography, John Quincy Adams: A Public Life, a Private Life, Nagel (1999) could not break away from the tradition of sidelining wives in biographies of great men. Even as Shepherd framed his as a “dual biography,” because it focused mostly on Louisa, he felt the need to stress his focus on the “personal.” But, again, adding to historical conventions that ignore women in political histories are the circumstances peculiar to Louisa,

whose expression of her emotional and psychological life is almost unparalleled in a  nineteenth‐century woman, as are her extended autobiographical treatments. Her own writings were penned, however, not only through the lens of memory but also during periods of Louisa’s depression. Historians cannot resist the temptations of these rich sources and have privileged the memoirs over the letters, which, while seemingly more prosaic, give, for instance, a more balanced view of her relationship with John Quincy. Until the publication of Margery Heffron’s (2014) biography, Joan R. Challinor provided the fullest treatment of Louisa’s life in her dissertation, titled “Louisa Catherine Johnson Adams: The Price of Ambition” (Challinor, 1982) and in two subsequent articles (Challinor, 1985, 1987). Tracing Louisa’s journey from birth to just before the Washington years, Challinor focused on her subject’s psyche and on how her personality developed vis‐à‐vis relationships with her natal and marital families. Louisa’s deep emotionality, expressed in often anguished prose, is so arresting that she seems to have seduced her male historical admirers into taking her depictions of John Quincy and her marriage as fact. Louisa’s literary bents, too, have influenced the analytic tools scholars have brought to bear. Katharine T. Corbett’s (1979) “Louisa Catherine Adams: The Anguished ‘Adventures of a Nobody’” was a literary analysis of Louisa’s major work. A more recent treatment of Louisa’s life, Michael O’Brien’s (2010) Mrs. Adams in Winter, which is an amazing feat of historical detection (O’Brien painstakingly re‐creates the historical journey taken by Louisa from St. Petersburg to France), treats Louisa’s story almost as a literary device or an extended metaphor on a historical meditation—an impression reinforced by his own considerable writing talents. Recently, as the historical discipline has begun to examine the political roles of “­ others,” including white women before



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suffrage, the theme of Louisa as political force has emerged. Catherine Allgor evaluated Louisa’s political work in two very specific settings: at the Russian court, in ­ “‘A Republican in a Monarchy’: Louisa Catherine Adams in Russia” (Allgor, 1997); and as the wife of John Quincy Adams, secretary of state and presidential candidate, in Parlor Politics: In Which the Ladies of Washington Help Build a City and a Government (Allgor, 2000). Louisa has made her appearance in Cokie Roberts’s (2008) Ladies of Liberty: The Women Who Shaped Our Nation, as one of the protagonists of the title, which argues for both the historical and the political significance of ­ the “founding mothers.” Heffron’s (2010) a­rticle “‘A Fine Romance’: The Courtship Correspondence of Louisa Catherine Johnson and John Quincy Adams” was a provocative preview of her Louisa Catherine: The Other Mrs. Adams (Heffron, 2014). Though Heffron died before that book was finished, her brother and editor, David L. Michelmore, oversaw its completion, and the work offers the first full‐scale scholarly biography of Louisa that covers her political participation. Along with the volumes of Louisa’s writings coming from the Adams Papers at the Massachusetts Historical Society, this biography will undoubtedly spur increased interest, both academic and popular, in Louisa Adams. This chapter continues the quest for understanding not only what Louisa’s political work tells us about her, but how a close look at her life illumines the role of political women in the early republic as well as in the development of the nation. Ironically, it is her “foreign‐born” designation that provides the clue to what Louisa brought to her role as political wife and, later, as first lady. It was precisely her status as an Englishwoman that framed her contribution to the United States’ political system. Why Louisa’s “foreign” upbringing mattered to her work as a political wife, and to the nation, is part of a larger picture, which is only visible when the

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stories offered by women have become part of the mainstream political narrative. The traditional narrative presented the New World as different from the Old, especially in its system of government: a world ruled by exceptionally individualistic founding fathers, who threw off the shackles of kings and courts. Studying elite women of the founding era, however, has demonstrated that the early government was more dependent on royal court forms than was previously thought. The new and aspiring ruling classes adopted and adapted court practices in order to garner legitimacy from the populace, amass personal power, and facilitate the business of politics. It did not matter that the new Americans had fought a war against a monarch and that their ruling philosophy of republicanism shunned all things aristocratic. Ideals of royalty and aristocracy still underlay their only available vocabulary of power, as part of their quest to legitimize the republican experiment to the outside world and to themselves. Who was to rule over a country where political sovereignty was vested in “the people” and the nation’s survival depended on the civic virtues of the said people? The elite men of the founding generation saw themselves as the right and proper “authority.” But how were they to convince those of the “lower sort” that their “betters” were really better? This ironic development had ironic results. In the first years after the Revolution, the new American elites went back to the unrepublican courts for ways to demonstrate their authority. For instance, the formerly rabid antimonarchical John Adams suddenly started arguing for bestowing titles on lawmakers, following the example of the British House of Lords. He even wanted to call the president “His Majesty” or “His High Mightiness.” But, unsurprisingly, the use of Old World forms and ideas rested uneasily within the new republicanism, and even the elite‐minded Federalists could only go so far.

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In early republican politics elite white women were often used to cover power in the sense that they eased the tension between political need and ideological purity by taking on the task of conveying aristocratic messages to the masses. Ironically, because they were private citizens and not elected officials, women had more latitude than men. So, while officials rejected titles as too monarchical and George Washington became “Mr. President,” his wife Martha became “Lady Washington.” James Madison might embody republican simplicity so thoroughly at his wife’s soirées that his own guests overlooked him, clad as he was in simple broadcloth, but his wife could be “Queen Dolley,” sweeping through the rooms in pink satin and ermine. A charismatic male leader was a danger in a republic, lest he bewitch the masses into making him a Napoleon. Women had no official power, so the new Americans could project their longings for an aristocratic ruler onto them. The political work of Louisa Catherine Johnson Adams took this dynamic to a new level. Not only was she superbly equipped to adapt aristocratic practices as her husband’s campaign manager, co‐opting to his political ends the superiority they conferred; she did so at a critical time in the development of the nation and of the capital city. When Louisa and John Quincy, now secretary of state, came to Washington in 1818, determined that he should get the presidency, they entered a government that was poised to develop into a democracy ruled by a two‐party system. During this time of great growth, the government needed to accommodate power both at the top—in the increasingly powerful branches of government, especially the executive—and at the bottom—from the common man. The Adamses’ court‐influenced political work, drawing ever larger groups of people together while accommodating the influence of Congress over the electoral process, played its part in this power struggle.

“Miss Proud” Louisa Catherine Johnson was born on February 12, 1775, to an American father, the prosperous merchant Joshua Johnson, and to a woman of rather uncertain origins, Catherine Nuth. As for Louisa’s origins—at least her national ones—these were also somewhat uncertain. Her father, who hailed from Annapolis, Maryland, always staunchly proclaimed his “Americanness,” although, when he left to come to England in 1771, he was still a British colonist. The United States was formed and declared independent while Joshua was working and living in London. Although Louisa would follow her father’s lead in asserting her own loyalty to a country she would not see until she was a grown woman—as though nationality were conferred by blood— she was, for all intents and purposes, raised to be an upper‐ class Englishwoman. The infant Louisa joined an older sister, Nancy; in the years to come, five sisters and one brother also joined the brood. Although Louisa was baptized as any legitimate child would be, her parents were probably not married and would not be until 1785, ten years after her birth. Catherine Nuth herself may have been illegitimate; in any case, she became involved with Joshua as a very young girl (Heffron, 2014). As Louisa was born on the eve of the American Revolution, her life was shaped from the start by her family’s relation to America. Her uncle, Thomas Johnson, was one of the 55 delegates who attended the First Continental Congress, and he would later become governor of Maryland. Joshua Johnson wanted to join the fight back in America. “Your cause is noble; it’s for liberty you struggle,” he declared to his brother, but he did not return home, no doubt because of his growing family (Joshua Johnson to Thomas Johnson, August 4, 1774 = Price, 1979). A vocal supporter of the American cause, Joshua found himself under surveillance; later he would return



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the favor by providing postrevolutionary intelligence in his position as US consul for London under President Thomas Jefferson. A treaty of commerce and unity between the new United States and France having been signed in 1778, Joshua transplanted his ever‐increasing brood to Nantes, France. There the Johnsons lived in splendor, in a mansion dubbed by neighbors Le temple du goût (“the Temple of Taste”). Louisa’s mother presided over a large household, entertaining numerous international visitors attracted by the lively hostess’s intelligence and wit (Heffron, 2014). At the age of three Louisa, along with her sister Nancy, was sent to a convent‐run boarding school where she began her education in the accomplishments seen as necessary for upper‐class daughters—singing, dancing, needlework, and the social graces, along with basic reading and writing skills. The Johnsons did not return to England until 1783, when Louisa was just eight years old. She had undoubtedly absorbed the French language as only the young can do. Her perfect command of what was the official language of courts and diplomacy would stand her in good stead in her future career (Heffron, 2014). As soon as the Johnsons settled in a house in Tower Hill, London, the three oldest Johnson girls were sent to a boarding school run by a Mrs. Carter in the nearby borough of Hackney. Sending young children away to board was in keeping with middle‐class family practices, but Louisa suffered socially. By nature shy, she kept herself aloof from the other students; correcting her French teacher’s pronunciation only brought her opprobrium from that teacher and teasing from the students. Consequently Louisa remembered: “I became seriously melancholy and almost gloomy, which caused me to be called Miss Proud by my school ­fellows and placed me in a more painful situation than ever” (Adams, “Record of a Life, or My Story,” in Graham et al., 2012 [henceforth LCJA, “Record”]: 6–7).

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Nevertheless, it was at Mrs. Carter’s school that Louisa began to uncover her intellectual gifts and learned to appreciate particularly the great works of English literature. She also excelled at the usual accomplishments, especially music, for which she showed remarkable aptitude. She stayed at the school until the age of thirteen. Thereafter the Johnson girls continued their education at home, with live‐ in governesses and visiting instructors who furthered their studies in music, drawing, and dancing. The older Johnson daughters took turns at running the household for one week at a time, training to be mistresses of complex domestic households like their own (Heffron, 2014). Much as she had done with the Temple of Taste, Catherine Nuth made the Tower Hill house into a center of pleasure and entertainment. The family lived extravagantly; where households of similar standing had seven servants, the Johnsons had eleven. Because of Joshua’s American connections, every American of note found his or her way to the Johnsons’ table—including John and Abigail Adams, when John was minister to the Court of St. James. They joined artists, merchants, and young men from all corners of the world sent to London to study. Catherine entertained them all and, as the Johnson girls grew into womanhood, they joined in, singing and playing the harp and the piano. Shy Louisa soon found herself the center of attention. No wonder that, playing “dress up” in her mother’s old gowns, she dreamed that a larger world stage was in her future: “I never would be anything but a Dutchess and never answer to any title but that of her grace” (LCJA, “Record”: 12). Given all this education, both formal and informal, as well as the investment in clothes and personal adornment, it would seem that the Johnsons were appropriately grooming their daughters for middle‐ and upper‐class English marriages. The quality of their education was what girls of their class enjoyed;

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and it was certainly beyond the experience of even elite American girls. Emerging educational theories in America fit uneasily with the acquisition of accomplishments; fancy sewing and dancing did not accord with the pure republicanism of the early American republic. The household‐management style modeled by Catherine was geared to large staffs in urban establishments; in America—a land of few big cities and generally rougher conditions—women presided over smaller staffs and took on much of the labor of housekeeping themselves. The Johnson girls, with gifts both cultivated and natural, could have aspired to marriages to middle‐class London merchants, or even to minor members of the gentry and the aristocracy (Heffron, 2014). Instead they were intentionally raised to become American wives. Perhaps Catherine and Joshua realized that, with their own sketchy backgrounds, they would not pass muster within an English culture punctilious about family. More seriously, notwithstanding the Johnsons’ grand shows and extravagant entertaining, their financial situation was always perilous, some of Joshua’s business practices bordering on the illegal. With no guaranteed dowry, the Johnson girls, no matter how pretty and accomplished, could not expect to make good English marriages. Whatever secret thoughts Joshua and Catherine may have harbored, Joshua outwardly made his choice of American husbands for his girls a matter of patriotism. Further, Joshua was clear that these should be men from the American South (LCJA, “Record”). Joshua’s preference for southern men notwithstanding, when young John Quincy Adams showed up on the Tower Hill doorstep on November 11, 1795, he was considered a good catch. He might hail from dour New England folk, but he was a young man of great accomplishment. John Quincy had spent more time in court circles than any American of his generation (Heffron, 2014). After going home for a Harvard education,

John Quincy found himself, at the age of twenty‐seven, appointed as the American minister to Holland by President George Washington. A year into the young man’s assignment, President Washington asked him to join the American delegation in London for the final ratification of the Jay Treaty. Adding to John Quincy’s luster was his father’s position as President Washington’s vice president; during the son’s time in London, the elder Adams would be elected president of the United States. When John Quincy became a frequent visitor to the Johnson household, the family assumed he was paying court to the eldest girl, Nancy. Louisa joined in this assumption, which allowed her to be freer and easier in her manner than if he had revealed his true target. On January 27, 1796, at a ball honoring Louisa’s upcoming twenty‐first birthday, he made his intentions toward her “decidedly publick, which brought much trouble on my head” from the jealous Nancy (LCJA, “Record”: 41). A tumultuous courtship followed, documented in letters between the two lovers that confirmed that, unfortunately, both were sensitive and quick to wound and be wounded. Both struggled with hiding their personal ambitions; both could be plagued by depression and self‐ doubt. But they were also intellectually compatible and passionate about each other (Heffron, 2014). John Quincy was the first American whom Louisa came to know intimately, but they shared an odd commonality. They both were more American in name than in experience. Not only was it the case that Louisa had never been to her father’s homeland, but John Quincy had basically grown up in European contexts and had suffered a severe culture shock when he had gone home to attend Harvard. After a rocky engagement, the pair married on July 26, 1797, in the Church of All Hallows Barking, west of the Tower of London. A month of bridal festivities ensued; and then, as the newlyweds readied themselves for John Quincy’s new diplomatic



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post as minister to the Prussian court, as his father’s new appointment there, something occurred that, from Louisa’s point of view, blighted her marriage from the start. The last wedding‐celebratory party had barely ended when Joshua Johnson went bankrupt in late August. Louisa felt this keenly, knowing that it appeared to the world, and perhaps to her new husband and his family, that she had been foisted onto John Quincy under false pretenses. The expected dowry was not forthcoming, and this robbed Louisa of any sense of equality or worth in the marriage. She mourned with “the bitter conviction that he might have formed a connection more suitable to the Station that he filled; and with more adequate means to support its consequence” (Adams, “Adventures of a Nobody,” in Graham et al., 2012 [henceforth LCJA, “Adventures”]: 99). “A Fine Lady” But Louisa was wrong. Even as she felt that they set out for Berlin under a cloud, she was more than a “suitable” companion for John Quincy. Trained to be an upper‐class Englishwoman, skilled in the art of conversation and in the deployment of wit, and superbly equipped with excellent French, Louisa was a perfect wife for a diplomat. The United States had never had a minister to Prussia, one of the two great German states, and, from 1797 to 1801, John Quincy and Louisa worked hard to establish relations between this great power and the struggling republic. During this time Louisa suffered several painful and devastating miscarriages, but in April 1801 she finally gave birth to her first son, George Washington Adams. From the start, Louisa found herself “the object of general attention” at the court of King Frederick William III and Queen Louise. Her court presentation was the first hurdle and, “knees knock[ing]” and full of trepidation, Louisa “felt ready to sink into the floor,” but she made such a successful

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impression that Queen Louise not only spoke with her during the presentation, but also invited her to supper, and “treated [her] with the kindest attention.” Queen Louise was just a year younger than Louisa herself, and the two bonded. Louisa “dearly loved” Queen Louise and the queen responded with kindness, especially during Louisa’s pregnancies, always ready to rescue her from the uncomfortable schemes of courtiers who lived to gossip and connive for precedence (LCJA, “Records”: 57, 59; LCJA, “Adventures”: 69, 68; Adams, “Narrative of a Journey from Russia to France,” in Graham et al., 2012: 386). That Louisa became such a target early on demonstrates her quick rise in royal favor (Heffron, 2014). Following her début, Louisa, alone or with John Quincy, was summoned to court on a regular basis, an honor she characteristically attributed to her position as “the Wife of a Foreign Minister, and daughter in law to the President of the United States.” But it was clear that she was valued in her own right. John Quincy’s mother, Abigail, had expressed reservations about Louisa’s ability to function as an innocent young woman in an urbane court; never one to boost his wife’s self esteem, John Quincy may have had his doubts as well. As Louisa recalled, his “very anxiety for my success, rendered him uneasy lest by some gaucherie I should fail.” But not only did Louisa not commit social gaffes (an amazing accomplishment, given the intricate and particular etiquette of this court), but she undoubtedly opened doors for her husband that would have been otherwise closed to him. Louisa’s special relationship with the royal family provided the all‐important access craved by diplomats. Moreover, the business of diplomacy is done at social events, and there Louisa’s beauty, charm, and fluency in French made her an indisputable asset. On more than one occasion, Louisa found herself “the only foreign Lady so distinguished” with some singular honor (LCJA, “Adventures”: 74–75, 82, 106).

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Though still an optimistic young woman, Louisa had a knowingness that would mature into a kind of cynicism about people’s character and political motives. She might seem dazzled by the material culture of court life, but she never saw anyone but the queen as anything other than a human being engaged in the business of life. No larger‐than‐life hero worship for her, as evidenced by her trenchant observations about a Count Haugwitz, the head of the foreign department: “This man Haugwitz is one of your Arch political deceivers, fully exemplifying the Jesuit and Machievelian doctrines, that truth is not needful, when falsehood will suffice.” Still, Louisa assessed: “The old Count is worthy of all respect, his little peculiarities being only tedious, but not vicious” (LCJA, “Adventures”: 89). Louisa was also surrounded by examples of the role that female political partners could play in a court setting. The Marchessa Luccassini, Louisa wrote, “knew well how to play a political game”; Lady Elizabeth Carysfort “did most of the diplomacy” for Great Britain. As befit her station, Louisa’s adored Queen Louise actively engaged in diplomatic business. But, even though John Quincy found the requisite social situations dull and uninspiring, always longing to return to his books and his study, he did not encourage Louisa’s political potential. He wrote of political and military developments to his mother but did not discuss them with his wife. Louisa recalled: “Mr. Adams had always accustomed me to believe that Women had nothing to do with politics, and as he was the glass from which my opinions were reflected, I was convinced of its truth, and sought no further” (LCJA, “Adventures”: 108, 128, 140). Her upbringing stood her in good stead, but nothing could have prepared her for the intricacies of royal life. That she succeeded so brilliantly must be attributed to her intelligence and adaptability to circumstance, which enabled her to establish close relationships with the royal family

that many other diplomats’ wives, who possessed both rank and wealth, could not (Heffron, 2014). Thus, in good part due to Louisa’s role, the mission to Prussia was a success. At a time when Prussia’s relations with France, Great Britain, and Russia were delicate, John Quincy obtained the renewal of the Prussian–American Treaty of Amity and Commerce. Dispatched from a country that the larger world assumed was full of savages and rebels, the intellectual John Quincy and the cultivated and refined Louisa represented the United States most favorably, leaving impressions that would be critical to the international standing of the new nation for years to come. When the Adamses were recalled back to the United States, Louisa, with her young son in her arms, set foot on her official homeland for the first time, on September 4, 1801. It would be eight years before the Adamses saw another court. In the meantime Louisa got her first taste of the “real” America, as represented by the Adams family’s hometown, Quincy, Massachusetts. The two elder Adamses also got a look at their son’s new bride. Louisa, always sensitive, was still probably correct in concluding that, although old John Adams “took a fancy to me, and he was the only one,” Abigail thought “that I was literally and without knowing it a fine Lady … [who] could not suit, however well inclined” (LCJA, “Adventures”: 164, 165). In the years 1801–1809 the young couple began building an American life divided among Boston, Quincy, and Washington. Again, in Boston Louisa was a presence, securing a place for the young couple among the city’s elite as John Quincy’s two brothers and their wives could not (Heffron, 2014). John Quincy half‐heartedly practiced law, served a term as US senator, and was appointed the first Boylston professor of rhetoric and oratory at Harvard. Louisa suffered the loss of one stillborn child and rejoiced at the birth of two sons, John and



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Charles Francis. Busy as she was with her family and her friends, her discerning mind found much fodder in her privileged view of the growing republic. She correctly targeted the new nation’s struggle to define class. In traditional European societies, she wrote, one’s place in society was fixed by custom and understood by everyone. In democratic America, where everyone was nominally equal, class distinctions still existed, but now they were repressed and resented. She understood, as she later expressed it, that “[a] republick of Equality, is a sort of non descript only to be realized in musty tomes generated in the unpractised and unsocial brains of needy Book Worms” (LCJA, “Adventures”: 199). She would not foresee that in the future she would be called upon, as one with a “social brain,” to translate the theories of bookworms into reality. In 1809 President James Madison appointed John Quincy as plenipotentiary to Russia—a key posting, as both countries saw a mutually beneficial trading relationship as a way to sidestep both Great Britain and France, whose leaders were then using so‐called neutral shipping as a weapon in their escalating hostilities. Louisa was devastated at having to go so far away, especially when it was decided, not by her but by her husband and by the elder Adamses, that her two oldest children were to be left behind and only two‐year‐old Charles Francis would accompany his parents, along with Louisa’s sister, Catherine. On the eighty‐ day voyage to what must have seemed like a frozen wasteland, Louisa was “broken hearted, miserable, alone in every feeling” (LCJA, “Adventures”: 284–285). A Republican in a Monarchy The Adamses served in Russia from 1809 to 1815. The aim of securing trade agreements with Russia would become even more important after the United States involved itself in the Napoleonic Wars by declaring

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war against Great Britain in 1812. During this time John Quincy and Louisa suffered their own losses. John Quincy’s beloved aunt and sister died; Louisa not only lost her sister Nancy and their mother but gave birth to and buried an only daughter. As in Prussia, she would delightedly describe the beautiful walks of the city, the theater, the art in the Hermitage, as well as all the glitter of court life, at the same time learning how society could shape politics. Compared to Berlin, St. Petersburg was far more glamorous and the court life correspondingly intricate. In many ways Louisa replicated her success in Berlin, cultivating a personal relationship with the tsar, as did John Quincy. But, if anything, the court at St. Petersburg demonstrated even more obviously the importance of the unofficial sphere of social events. Of course, this unofficial sphere had always been a part of political systems, and Louisa did not need to be at one of the most elaborate courts in the world to see that. Back in America, women such as Dolley Madison and many less famous hostesses who had never been out of the country knew that social events were the place to make connections and agreements, to propose, negotiate, and conduct political business of all kinds, out of the official spotlight (Allgor, 2000: 86–88). But in St. Petersburg there was no official venue reserved for diplomats. Diplomats traditionally do a great deal of business in homes and at social events; at the Russian court, all diplomatic business happened at social events. With no official source of information in place, balls and parties, even those for children, became crucial places for securing and sometimes disseminating intelligence. Louisa observed that the wily Sardinian minister, Joseph de Maistre, requested his sovereign, Victor Emmanuel, to send him a young man to fill a secretarial post who would not only shine as a good dancer, fine conversationalist, and musician but also be savvy enough to “serve me as an informer with the women to learn the

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secrets of their husbands.” Louisa called these aides “Waltzing Machines” (quoted in Heffron, 2014: 204). As he had in Berlin, John Quincy despised the “trifling and insignificance” of the constant social obligations” but understood that it would not be “safe or prudent to despise them.” Still, one of his aides described him as listless at parties and “an unfortunate appointment for this Court … no manners … gauche, never was intended for a foreign Minister, and is only fit to turn over musty law authorities.” His nickname among his young staff was “the mute in Siberia.” John Spear Smith, a nephew of the secretary of state and son of a senator from Maryland, concluded: “Dry sense alone does not do at European Courts. Something more is necessary, which something Mr. A. does not possess” (all quoted in Allgor, 1997: 38). But, of course, Louisa possessed that “something more” in abundance—charm, charisma, and a genuine interest in other people. While John Quincy embarked on a massive project on weights and measures in his study, Louisa went without her husband to the all‐important social events. Often the only diplomatic spouse in court, highly intelligent and attuned to nuances in human behavior, Louisa could discern by a glance or a word information of significance when it was presented. Her perfect French, dancing, and musical abilities and her intellectual and continental sophistication were assets to the American team. Honed in Berlin, her skills in coping with court etiquette and with social situations that had political implications were polished in St. Petersburg. She could on many occasions divert or subvert tricky situations by playing herself as a simple American, a “republican” in a monarchy. As in Berlin, Louisa sent her own signals to the court as the tsar distinguished her in a variety of ways, such as by choosing her for an occasion’s first dance (Heffron, 2014). And, like the Berlin posting, the Russian mission was a great success. Despite his

disdain for small talk, John Quincy was an able, analytic, and astute diplomat, recognized as such by his peers. The French ambassador to Russia, for example, commented to him: “It seems you are great favorites here. You have found powerful protection” (quoted in Allgor, 1997: 22). But the achievement of the American mission was also because of Louisa’s command of the unofficial sphere. The American delegation was held in such high regard by the tsar that in 1814 he offered to broker a peace between the United States and Great Britain. Nothing would come of this effort, but that same year President Madison sent John Quincy to Ghent to work on the peace treaty that would resolve, however unsatisfactorily, the War of 1812. While in Ghent, John Quincy heard the news that he was to be appointed American minister to Great Britain. In late December he sent word to Louisa, still in St. Petersburg, that she was to close up the diplomatic establishment, sell what she could, and join him in Paris. She did all of that with amazing efficiency, transporting herself and her seven‐year‐old son and servants across the frozen battlefields of war‐torn Europe, dodging bullets, bandits, and armies from all sides. She joined John Quincy in Paris and they traveled together to London, where they were reunited with their two older sons. The Adamses served in at the British court until 1817, when President James Monroe appointed John Quincy as secretary of state. “Affairs of High Importance” The Washington that welcomed the Adamses back was not the same town they had last seen, nor was the United States the same nation. When they had left for Russia in 1809, the capital city was struggling to be a capital of “pure republicanism,” eschewing all the corruptions of court life. No extra‐official events or spaces existed—save one—where people could do the unofficial



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politicking necessary to get things done. A diplomat himself, Jefferson knew the power of social events for political needs and for building political unity. But he deliberately truncated such opportunities in order to shore up his own Republican Party and vanquish the Federalists (Allgor, 2000: 24–27). His daughters’ visits provide him with occasions for conviviality, however, as Chapter 3 here suggests. During the Jefferson administration, the chief social–political space in town was in Secretary of State James Madison’s house on F Street. Like the Adamses, the Madisons were another pairing of a reserved, intellectual man and gregarious, empathic woman; unlike John Quincy, however, James understood and valued Dolley’s work in the unofficial sphere and gave her free rein. From 1801 to 1809, it was in the house on F Street, not the Executive Mansion, where tasks of political cohesion were performed (Allgor, 2000: 76–77, 99–101). While the Adamses were in Russia, the newly elected James and Dolley took the networks and connections that Dolley had made into what would become known during their tenure as the White House. Dolley would continue to provide a governmental system lamentably light on structure, with a rudimentary apparatus within which officials and their families could perform the tasks that would be assigned to professionalized party machines later on. The first lady constructed a space in the White House, the only one in town that could hold locals, officials and their families, the corps diplomatique, and travelers and gave them a regular night to meet. Wednesdays were Mrs. Madison’s “drawing rooms.” Though no one at the time could exactly apprehend what was happening during the Madison administration, the nation, and thus the capital, were becoming modern, heading for the destiny as a strong nation state, a democracy ruled by two parties. Both James’s “hands off” presidential style and Dolley’s active implementation of court

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practices such as social events, material displays, and patronage unwittingly aided in these developments. During their time, the nation’s emerging identity and its growth were buttressed by a new nationalism and a federal government that could accommodate power, all the way down from the presidential level. The burning of the capital in 1814 and the conclusion of the War of 1812 spawned that resurgent nationalism; the court‐like venues and milieus that Dolley created satisfied the needs of those seeking to exert power within the government. So John Quincy and Louisa arrived in a town ripe for some courtly innovation, befitting a nation that had begun to regard itself as major player in the world. In 1817 James Monroe had already set his administration on a “European … footing of form and ceremony”; he even contemplated “uniform dress” for Cabinet members. However, the royal manner of Elizabeth Kortright Monroe, his wife who had lived in France, only seemed cold and distant to the Washington community. This turn toward monarchical practices did not go unnoticed, and some worried that the emerging “etiquette” signaled that the US government was heading for the kind of courtly corruption that felled Rome (Allgor, 2000: 147–148, 212–213). It is important to realize, too, that, as soon as they set foot on American soil, both John Quincy and Louisa had their eyes on the presidency. It is inconceivable that these two ambitious people could have thought otherwise. As the son of a former president, John Quincy had deeply personal reasons for achieving this highest of offices. As the office of secretary of state was regarded as the stepping stone to presidency, John Quincy could reasonably expect to be a contender in the election of 1824. The Adamses were not wrong in beginning their campaign as soon as they arrived. Assuming James Monroe would serve two terms, everyone was thinking about his successor years before the election of 1824 (Allgor, 2000: 153–154).

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Though the Republican Party was in the ascendant, it was splintering, and early on it was assumed that there would be many republican candidates in 1824. In this era men did not run for political office. Like a modern‐day Cinncinatus at the plow, a candidate’s seeming reluctance to take on the public service a public demanded of him proved his republican virtue. Before the family was unpacked, then, Louisa began working as her husband’s campaign manager. Her systematic approach presaged the techniques of later political machines. Her focus was on Congress; not only were p­ residential candidates nominated through congressional caucus, but the expected crowding of the electoral slate almost guaranteed that the election of 1824 would end up being decided in the  House. John Quincy acknowledged the family strategy when he remarked: “The only possible chance for a head of department to attain the presidency is by ingratiating himself personally with the members of Congress” (quoted in Allgor, 2000: 155). House elections, then, led “to a thousand corrupt cabals between the members of Congress and the heads of the Departments, who are thus almost necessarily made rival pretenders in the succession.” John Quincy could afford to present himself as a paragon of incorruptibility, above the fray; Louisa did his campaigning for him (2000: 153–156, 165, 183). The Adamses began their stay in Washington at a disadvantage; having been gone for eight years, they did not enjoy existing social relationships with congressional families. In this era people got to know each other through “calling”: short ritualized visits that officially opened doors between families. Washington families, both local and official, had already established connections through previous years of calls, including those of the other “pretenders to the throne,” such as Henry Clay, John C. Calhoun, and William Crawford. If the Adamses followed the rules for calling,

Louisa would have to call on every family one by one, just to catch up (Allgor, 2000: 120–121, 164). At least, they assumed, as a Cabinet family they could expect members of Congress to pay the first call on them, as a sign of respect. But when the president of the Senate pro tempore, John Gaillard, and a colleague visited John Quincy in his office on January 5, 1818, they informed him that the Senate’s unspoken rule was that senators would pay the “first call” only upon the president, and not upon Cabinet members such as him (Allgor, 2000: 149). Louisa then made her move, allying herself with Elizabeth Kortright Monroe, who had declared that, although she would, as the president’s wife, return all calls paid to her, she would not initiate any. These policies of the two households caused many “heartburnings,” and people reacted to Elizabeth’s too royal prerogative with boycott. The first drawing room of the 1819– 1820 season opened “to a “‘beggarly‐row of empty chairs,”’ according to one guest (quoted in Allgor, 2000: 151). This would not do in a town where social structures took the place of political ones. Resolving this situation, establishing who was supreme in the pecking order, prompted a Cabinet meeting (Allgor, 2000: 149–152; on this matter, see also Chapter 5 in this volume). Asserting themselves as social leaders was crucial for the Adamses in a town so dependent on society for its politics. Requiring that official families call upon them would most efficiently open up relations with multiple households, thus depriving their rivals of the home turf advantage. Their stand in the “etiquette wars,” moreover, allied them with the highest family in the land and checked the growing power of Congress and its desire to dictate policy to a Cabinet member. The principle was important, but the Adamses did not let principle trump practicality. John Quincy did in fact initiate calls and, as the quest for presidency accelerated, Louisa would not miss a house in her calling campaign (Allgor, 2000: 162–163).



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But they went even further. John Quincy stated that, although he would not pay visits of form, he was happy to return visits and would be “happy to invite to my house every member of the Senate, where he had or had not paid me a visit” (quoted in Allgor, 2000: 165). This statement was a radical innovation; it meant that Louisa and John Quincy could invite without any preliminaries any man or family they wanted to invite (Allgor, 2000: 164–165). Any resentment felt by the official families at being put in their place was soon mitigated by the gracious welcome provided by their hostess (in contrast to the cold Elizabeth Monroe) and by the exciting developments at the Adamses’ house. As the election of 1824 neared, Cabinet families spent vast resources of time and money on social events. Cabinet members were expected to socialize, and they visited members of Congress “very freely.” Louisa wryly remarked to old John Adams that “it is understood that a man who is ambitious to become president of the United States, must make his wife visit the Ladies of the members of Congress first,” adding: “otherwise, he is totally inefficient to fill so high an office.” She gleefully reported: “You would laugh could you see Mr. A. every morning prepare a set of [calling] cards with as much formality as if he was drawing up some very important article to negotiate in a commercial treaty” (all quoted in Allgor, 2000: 157, 167–168). Their primary strategy lay in home entertaining. In a portentous move, the Adamses bought the former Madison F Street home, which had been the social center of the city for many years. As the election neared, they readied the house for the final push of entertaining and campaigning. In 1823 they built an addition consisting of spaces that would be used for events: two large reception rooms and several smaller rooms. A great strength of Dolley Madison’s drawing room lay in its regularity; every Wednesday everyone had a place to “see and be seen,” as one

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guest opined. Louisa emulated this through “Mrs. Adams’s Tuesday nights.” Rather than randomly inviting guests for a single occasion, she introduced a subscription system, issuing invitations for the whole congressional season, which lasted from late fall until Congress adjourned in the spring (Allgor, 2000: 168–170). In December 1819 Louisa announced that she had “open[ed] my campaign, having given a general invitation for every Tuesday during the winter” (quoted in Allgor, 2000:169). The innovation apparently caused “some noise and jealousy”; but, once again, the Adamses stole the spotlight. As rival wives imitated the practice, it became understood that, no matter how many invitations a family or candidate received, they would go only to a single candidate’s parties during a season. In a town where social allegiance signaled political alliance, John Quincy’s crowded drawing room sent a message of political popularity and solidarity (Allgor, 2000: 169–170, 175). “Mrs Adams’s Tuesdays” were crowded, and not merely because she was the first to issue subscriptions. They were popular from the start because of the quality of the food and entertainment and because of Louisa herself. At presidential drawing rooms and the homes of other Cabinet wives, conversation was the primary amusement. In contrast, Louisa drew on her English home training and court experience to provide entertainments that were performance‐ oriented and showy, featuring music and dancing. When no music was to be had, Louisa herself would perform. The sight of this cultured lady, perhaps at the most refined of instruments, the harp, signaled to all that she and her family were indubitably of the “better sort” and worthy to lead the nation. In the mind of these former colonists, superior people were visibly superior through the possession and use of material culture (Allgor, 2000: 170–172). When Louisa wrote, “[t]he eye of the public is already on me,” she was

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acknowledging the importance of this ­evaluative capacity (Allgor, 2000: 173). Her rivals could not compete. One congressman thought the wife of William Crawford was a kind woman and an affectionate wife and mother, but “she is plain, almost to coarseness and is without any of the airs and graces, which seem appropriate to the wife of a president” (Allgor, 2000: 172). John Adams had correctly predicted to Louisa: “your experience in Berlin, St. Petersburg, and St. James’s, your sense, wit, and perfect fluency and purity in the French language will hold you constantly besieged” (Allgor, 2000: 171). No wonder at the first presidential drawing room of 1820, Louisa noted with mortification that people “teased” her, asking her how she would “behave in this same situation, as it was likely I should be tried in four years from this time” (Allgor, 2000: 154). “All are Gone to Mrs. Adams” As the election neared, the stakes rose. On December 20, 1823, Louisa and John Quincy, swayed by their son John’s enthusiasm for the idea, decided to give a ball in honor of Andrew Jackson, then known chiefly as a war hero. Invitations were rushed out, as there was a question of timing. If the ball were to have maximum impact, it had to be held before the congressional caucus in late January or early February. Also, in a political and family culture that demanded republican simplicity, one could not merely give a ball for entertainment’s sake. Lavish expenditures must be justified; the traditional time for a ball was George Washington’s birthday on February 22, but that date fell too late for the caucuses. The only suitable date was January 8, the anniversary of General Jackson’s victory in New Orleans in 1815 (Allgor, 2000: 176–177). What might have given the Adamses pause is that Andrew Jackson himself had emerged as a presidential contender, albeit a

dark horse. Still, the anniversary of the battle of New Orleans had become a traditional time to host a ball in cities across the United States. Perhaps the Adamses had hopes that this influential candidate might decide to join their camp, bringing votes from the West and South with him. No doubt celebrating a rival must have pleased John Quincy’s sense of incorruptibility. Having the enormously popular general at his house would allow John Quincy to bask in the hero’s popularity, and, if the affair was done well enough, it would be the Adamses rather than Jackson who would occupy the spotlight. This is just what happened. Once Washington City got wind of what was happening at F Street, the ball was anticipated to be the event of all events. Louisa and John Quincy issued over five hundred invitations, many of them hand‐delivered by Louisa. Others begged for an invitation, and Louisa marveled that the “number of persons who come to be invited on this occasion exceed belief” (quoted in Allgor, 2000: 178; see also 177–178). It is not overstating the case to say that this was a performance on a massive scale. Like a good director, Louisa had “a beautiful plan in my head which I shall endeavor to have executed” (quoted in Allgor, 2000: 178). With little choice of music, Louisa hired the marine band, but she explicitly chose certain dances and excluded others. Though John Quincy and Louisa both waltzed beautifully, the “valse” was considered racy in the provincial capital, as were some of the trendier Spanish dances. Louisa chose cotillions and reels, dances that required group participation and cooperation (Allgor, 2000: 178–179). After clearing out rooms to hold the guests, taking doors off to allow movement between rooms, and transferring John Quincy’s study to a backroom, Louisa installed pillars to prop up the second story, where the guests would have supper. The whole Adams family spent the whole time from December 22 to the day of the ball



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decorating the spaces with laurel, wintergreen, evergreens, and roses, all woven into garlands and wreaths. At a ball given by the British minister the year before, a man from Baltimore had chalked beautiful designs on the floor. Louisa hired him to do the same, following her own designs. The chalking took a full day to complete— an extravagant elegance, as it would be swept away in the first dance (Allgor, 2000: 179, 178, 180). As January 8 neared, the capital was dizzy with anticipation. The press, which did not normally report on women or on social events, seized on the occasion, squibbing the story with both prose and poetry. One published poem began “Wend you with the world tonight?” and concluded “Belles and matron, maids and madams/All are gone to Mrs. Adams.” Finally the day was at hand. The guests began arriving at 7.30 p.m., guided by bonfires lit two blocks away (Allgor, 2000: 179–180). Upon entering the Adamses’ home, guests were greeted by Louisa and John Quincy and then moved to the impressive entertainment rooms, festooned with greenery, flowers, and “small illumination lamps.” The chalked floors were a rich carpet of color, with spread eagles, flags, and the motto “Welcome to the Hero of New Orleans.” The hero himself appeared at 9 o’clock and Louisa “gratified the general curiosity” by “gracefully” taking Jackson’s arm and leading him through the crowd. In so doing, she captured the spotlight, representing her husband, her family, and all the political freight associated with the event. She prepared her dress accordingly, with an ensemble that commanded authority and power but also maintained a republican simplicity. She wore a “suit of steel”—a steel lamé—with “ornaments for head, throat, and arms” of “cut‐steel,” all producing a “dazzling effect.” Ever the sober republican, John Quincy appeared in a simple suit, the only male there not in formal wear (all quoted in Allgor, 2000: 180–181).

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When supper was announced, Louisa led the general to the head of the table, which was laid out in luxurious food presented in the sumptuous way that she had observed in St. Petersburg and London. Elaborately “sculpted” suppers were the rage in Europe and her table featured “natural and candied fruits, pies, sweetmeats, tongues, games … arranged in the most exquisite taste.” General Jackson left shortly after supper to attend a public ball, but his early exit seemed almost incidental to the event; the night belonged to Louisa (quoted in Allgor, 2000: 181). In the years to come there would be other “Jackson balls,” but the “Adams ball,” as this was known, remained unsurpassed in the annals of Washington history, as both a social and a political event. It represented the apogee of the Adamses’ campaign efforts and a culmination of the courtly ways that Louisa had learned over so many years. Social events were for cohesion and persuasion, and on one grand night Louisa and John Quincy brought everyone of importance into their home, reconciling their enemies, introducing new supporters, and weaving everyone more tightly into their circle. The event increased John Quincy’s popularity and made him the front runner in the election. It is too much to say that those who supped at his table and danced through the night “owed” him a vote. Rather the effect was more subtle and psychological. The magnificence of the event had taken electioneering to a new plane, one occupied solely by the Adamses (Allgor, 2000: 181–182). While the ball did not have an effect on the congressional caucus—it chose William Crawford – the election of 1824 played out exactly in the way many had predicted. Andrew Jackson won the most votes, with a total of 152,901; John Quincy Adams won 114,023; Henry Clay received 47,217; and William Crawford garnered 46,979. Even after the electoral college weighed in, no candidate had a clear majority, and the e­ lection went into the House. There the

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representatives of each state voted among themselves, and the majority position counted as that single state’s vote. Only the top three candidates were considered (the electoral college’s votes had given the number 3 spot to Crawford), but while the fourth, Clay, might be out of the running for president, as Speaker of the House he commanded congressional support that he could swing toward a candidate of his choosing (Allgor, 2000: 183–184). It was at this fraught moment that an event that has long puzzled historians took place. From the evidence of John Quincy’s own diaries, it seems that he entered into what enemies would later call the “corrupt bargain,” promising Henry Clay the coveted post of secretary of state (and thus a solid hope of the next presidency) in return for his support. Historians who paid attention to John Quincy’s many protestations against ambition and to his vaunted political virtue have argued against this obvious interpretation, making the case, on the basis of his character, that he could not have been guilty of such base political behavior. But, of course, had historians paid attention to what Louisa had been doing since 1817, they would have realized that John Quincy was as ambitious as the next man; and the deal with Clay, far from being an anomaly, was the end result of years of campaigning (Allgor, 2000: 185–186). The men who had attended dinners, parties, and Tuesday nights under the Adamses’ roof gathered on February 9, 1825 to elect a president. Even with Clay’s help, John Quincy needed New York’s vote. The New York coalition was split, 17 being for Adams and 17 for Crawford; elderly Stephen Van Rensselaer was the holdout. Divided in his own mind and harassed from all sides, Van Rensselaer, according to the story, bowed his head for divine guidance. Spying a ballot ticket with John Quincy’s name on it, he went for Adams over Crawford. His fellow delegates did not take this betrayal, as they saw it,

lightly. Delaware representative Louis McLane commented: “He has betrayed those with whom he broke bread” (quoted in Allgor, 2000: 185). Surely, however, it is also significant that, long before the presidential election, Van Rensselaer “voted” for John Quincy by breaking bread in the Adams house (Allgor, 2000: 184–185). As we know, like his father, John Quincy endured a doomed, one‐term presidency. On the one hand, his view of government was too modern, including as it did federal internal improvements and “lighthouses in the sky.” On the other, during his reelection campaign his enemies painted him as an old‐fashioned aristocrat. In a dynamic that other first ladies would experience, Louisa found herself sidelined once the great object was achieved. Although she performed her duties well, Louisa spent her White House years depressed and withdrawn (Allgor, 2000: 191–193). Once in the Executive Mansion, she did not entertain with the delight with which she used to do it before; and she spent most of  her evenings at home or vacationing separately from her husband, from whom she felt increasingly distant during this period. Part of what darkened their time was the controversy over the election, which overshadowed the Adams presidency; in addition, several of their children were involved in scandals. Louisa Adams’s years as first lady have not been deeply explored by historians. Except for Shepherd (1980) and a brief section in Nagel (1987), all the biographies of Louisa that have been written conclude before she becomes first lady. In part this is because she kept no diary during her years in the White House. Historians thus have leaned on the diary of her later years; moreover, they have selected correspondence that led to a view of Louisa as a first lady of seclusion, isolation, depression, and chocolate binging, while her taciturn, lame‐duck president husband muddled through a troubled presidency.



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Shepherd plays up the image of a “chocoholic” Louisa. “In the White House, with marriage and life tormenting her,” he writes, “Louisa devoured chocolate because it occupied time, and comforted her by recalling a childhood when she got what she wanted. … One can picture Louisa Adams in her White House chamber, chocolate shells at hand, writing her volumes of poems, brief essays, [and] letters” (Shepherd, 1980: 264, 265). This image of a constantly depressed, bonbon‐eating Louisa is, however, inaccurate. The chocolate shells that Louisa requested of her sons were not candies, but rather the casing of the roasted cocoa beans. One drank, not ate, this coffee‐like beverage steeped in water (Lange, 2009: 137). Shepherd is correct, however, that life in the White House was difficult for Louisa. The mansion lacked the comforts of “any private mechanic’s family” and Louisa believed “it would be difficult to find such an assortment of rags and rubbish even in an Alms House as was exhibited to the Publick” (Louisa Catherine Adams to Charles Francis Adams, April 20, 1825 = Adams Family Papers). A feisty Louisa set to correct any misimpressions the public might have about the splendor in which the new president and his family would be living. She wrote to her son Charles Francis Adams: The State of things was such that knowing the impression on the publick mind concerning the general splendour of the Mansion I thought it best to throw open the House and by admitting the people to see it in the real state[,] correct the absurd and preposterous notions which had gone abroad by giving them the opportunity to judge for themselves. … I respect my Masters the Sovereign People with great sincerity[,] but I am not so much alarmed at the idea of going out at the end of four years as to desire to make any sacrifice of actual comfort for the sake of prolonging my sojourn in this would be magnificent

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habitation which after all like every thing else in this desolate City is but an half ­finished Barn. (Louisa Catherine Adams to Charles Francis Adams, April 20, 1825 = Adams Family Papers)

Shepherd’s (1980) characterization of her life as withdrawn and of Louisa as confining herself to her room fits with ­ the picture she paints in her correspondence in this period. She was indeed bored, unhappy, and frequently ill, as evident in the letters she wrote her son George Washington Adams. She told him: “Shut up as I am in this great house I have few opportunities of mixing with society and my health is so bad I almost lose relish for parties which once gave a zest to the enjoyment” (Louisa Catherine Adams to George Washington Adams, March 4, 1826 = Adams Family Papers). Nagel attributes her illness in this period to menopause and eruptions of erysipelas, a skin infection, although he argues that most of her symptoms were psychological— stemming from pleas for attention that manifested themselves during this trying period of her life (Nagel, 1987: 214, 215, 220). This assessment, however, ignores the ill spells that often plagued her throughout her life. Frequent maladies were not a foreign concept for the Adams family, and John Quincy himself suffered a lengthy illness in the spring of 1827. In the midst of his focus on this “perfectly retired” life, as Louisa styled it (Louisa Catherine Adams to George Washington Adams, April 16, 1826 = Adams Family Papers), Shepherd misses a moment in which all eyes in Washington turned to the White House, when the responsibility of being first lady truly fell on Louisa. On July 4, 1826, President John Adams and President Thomas Jefferson died within hours of each other. News of Jefferson’s death reached Washington, DC, on July 6, and word of his father’s serious illness reached John Quincy Adams on July 8.

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Quickly departing for Quincy, Massachusetts, John Quincy would learn of his father’s death on the road. Louisa, remaining in Washington, now stood in an unprecedented position. On the one hand, she was in a position of private family mourning: the beloved “old Gentleman” who had always welcomed her into the Adams family, the father of her husband, was gone. On the other, she was the lone face of the executive branch as the nation as a whole mourned the death of these two titans of the American Revolution and former presidents who died on the Jubilee of Independence—a fateful omen for the young nation. Louisa wrote to John Quincy on his birthday, as he made his way back to Quincy: The situation in which you left me is full of responsability [sic], and I have acted to the best of my power— Usage and Custom in these cases are paramount to Law; I have therefore put the family into mourning without waiting for directions, which will of course be productive of heavy expence, but having no one to guide me if I have done wrong you will pardon the error, as I wished in everything to do that which should best meet your approbation. (Louisa Catherine Adams to John Quincy Adams, July 11, 1826 = Adams Family Papers)

It had been more than twenty‐five years since a former president had died; and, when George Washington passed in December 1799, Congress was in session and led the decisions on how to mourn the universally loved general. First Lady Abigail Adams declined even to decide how long mourning wear would continue for the ladies, deferring to the men on the matter (Mitchell, 1947: 225). Louisa had no such luxury, as Congress was in recess and her husband, the president, was not present in the White House. She wrote to her son George in Boston: “Tell your father I feel sadly out of my element in this great palace without him” (Louisa Catherine Adams to

George Washington Adams, July 15, 1826 = Adams Family Papers). John Quincy, for his part, wrote of his approval of her management of the situation and her attendance at the memorial services held in the Capitol (John Quincy Adams to Louisa Catherine Adams, July 24, 1826 = Adams Family Papers). Yet Shepherd’s narrative for the summer of 1826 focuses instead on what he describes as a “snapping, summer‐long feud between Louisa and John Quincy” (Shepherd, 1980: 278) over the question of the disposition of John Adams’s estate. He is right when he notes Louisa’s deep concern about the debt that taking on the estate could entail for the family as well as about the burden that taking sole care of it would be for her husband when she heard that co‐executor Josiah Quincy III would not join him in the task. The news she read regarding Thomas Jefferson’s dire financial situation at his death scared Louisa as to what could happen to her own children if she and John mis­managed their affairs, and she wrote to John Quincy (who was already at Peacefield, the Quincy estate) earnestly on the subject on July 18. Before he would even have received that letter, however, on July 20, Louisa wrote again, to clarify that her previous letter was not written in anger, merely in concern, and to let John Quincy know that she would proceed to the property herself, from Washington. John Quincy, for his part, responded with understanding to her concerns: I have arduous duties to discharge, and shall give to the observations in your Letter, full and serious consideration— I have not engaged as yet even to take the place, and painful as may be the sacrifice, of giving it up to Sale, I may perhaps bring my mind to it— I would not willingly take any step relating to my property in opposition to your wishes, being in Life and till Death, your affectionate and faithful Husband. (John Quincy Adams to Louisa Catherine Adams, July 25, 1826 = Adams Family Papers)



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This is the entirety of the exchange on the matter, and Louisa’s delays on her way to Quincy were not occasioned by an argument, as Shepherd (1980) and Nagel (1987) suggest, but by miscommunications and mistimed letters, as John Quincy was not yet sure when it would be advisable for her to arrive. Soon another presidential election cycle loomed. “Politicks are beginning to blaze with great violence” Louisa reported to her son Charles Francis on January 15, 1828 (Adams Family Papers). Even earlier, however, in the summer of 1827, the campaign started to warm up; and, as it did, Louisa began to come more alive herself. She shifted most of her correspondence to Charles Francis, writing off the deteriorating George—her oldest son, an alcoholic, who would commit suicide in 1829—and often exchanged ideas on political subjects with Charles. These letters are full of reports of Washington happenings and of the many entertainments hosted at the White House, which she now felt she had more energy to arrange. There is a definitive change in tone in her letters of this period, and far fewer reports of illness. When away from her husband, she reported on the political temperature toward his administration in the places she traveled through and advised routes he should take in order to increase support. Despite her earlier comments on not “prolonging my sojourn,” the Adamses ran a vigorous reelection campaign in 1828. It was a nasty one, and the ill treatment of the Adams family by the Jacksonian press brought out all her defensive instincts—as she was to describe them in later years: For myself I care nothing; but true to my  Sex, when my husband, or my Son is  attacked, my blood fires with uncontrouled anger, and reason loses her sway, while even Religion fails to check the warmth of those feelings, and those

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affections with which God himself has endowed me. (Louisa Catherine Adams to Charles Francis Adams, March 9, 1841 = Adams Family Papers)

In 1828 John Quincy and Louisa were accused of procuring a woman for Tsar Alexander’s amusement during John Quincy’s tenure as minister to the Russian court, by way of offering up their servant Martha Godfrey, who looked after the young Charles Francis. This particular allegation led Louisa to write a detailed rebuttal to her three sons, so they would know the truth in the face of this “most slanderous c­ alumny” (Louisa Catherine Adams to Charles Francis Adams, May 1, 1828 = Adams Family Papers). Louisa went on to recount the very mundane fact that Godfrey had merely escorted her young charge to the palace to meet with the tsarina, and at that time the two met the tsar as well. Shepherd (1980), like other historians, overlooks this revealing episode, which tells us much about Louisa’s strength under fire. Instead he focuses his narrative on ­ intra‐ family conflict and looks for ways to ­dramatize these troubles. For example, he highlights the differences between Louisa and John Quincy in their approach to the deteriorating well‐being of George, though their letters paint a couple more in sync in their understanding of their son’s problems. When Louisa wrote to her husband from Boston, where she was looking after an ill George, she noted of him: “His spirits have much revived and he is in all respects the same odd exaggerated concerted timid enthusiastic negligent cold and eccentric being that he has been ever since he was born”—or, perhaps more succinctly, “one of Shakespeare’s fools” (Louisa Catherine Adams to John Quincy Adams, July 6, 1827  = Adams Family Papers). Shepherd (1980: 292) argues that Louisa attempted to get John Quincy to go easy on George,

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to refrain from giving him work, and to “see George as she did.” However, when she wrote to Charles Francis complaining about George’s failings and declaring her intention not to write to him further, she told her younger son that she believed that John Quincy had been indeed too kind to George (Louisa Catherine Adams to Charles Francis Adams, March 7, 1828 = Adams Family Papers). This is not to say that family relationships were not tested, and John Quincy’s need to be in public service was certainly a bone of contention for his spouse. Instead of a quiet and retired lifestyle in Quincy, as she had wished after her husband’s defeat in 1828, Louisa was obliged to return to Washington two years later, as the wife of a congressman. The conflict over John Quincy’s intention to be put forward as a candidate for the House of Representatives led to a very angry exchange of letters among members of the Adams family in the fall of 1830. No doubt still exhausted by the continuous attacks that the family had weathered and by the round of parties and entertainments she had endured in order to stay politically relevant, Louisa could not bear the thought of going through all of it again; and Nagel (1987: 222) accurately highlights how unappreciated Louisa felt over this development. Writing to her son John Adams 2d, she explained: “You who know how irksome political life has become to me will not be surprized at [my] resolution [to remain in Quincy] which I fully and consciensciously believe ought to have been taken long ago” (Louisa Catherine Adams to John Adams 2d, September 24, 1830 = Adams Family Papers). Her anger came to a head on November 14, 1830 when she wrote another letter to him: I have received your Letter my Son and it has answered your intention that is that I again sacrifice myself to my family convenience— In the marriage compact there are as in every other two parties, each of which

have rights strictly defined by law and by the usages of society— In that compact the parties agree before the fall of heaven to promote as far as in their power the welfare and happiness of each other— The woman being the weaker of the two is expected and does nine times out of ten make great sacrifices for her husband but it does not follow because she is willing so to do while she is able to endure it, that it entails on her the necessity until the day of her death to give up all that she deems blessings both of opinion and comfort. (Louisa Catherine Adams to John Adams 2d, November 14, 1830 = Adams Family Papers)

She acquiesced, however, to a return to Washington, as her old insecurity regarding her father’s financial failure raised its head once again: “I have no right to encumber the family with expences because I brought poverty into it[:] a crime unmitigated by a life of sorrow. The appearances of which can never be washed away from my memory not even by the waters of oblivion.” Still, she contended, “to pretend that I make the sacrifice willingly would be ridiculous and false” (Louisa Catherine Adams to John Adams 2d, November 14, 1830 = Adams Family Papers). In spite of the inauspicious beginnings, however, the Adamses’ life in Washington was not as disastrous as Louisa feared. With higher ambitions off the table, Louisa and John Quincy settled into a political situation where John Quincy had the satisfaction of serving under a popular mandate. In the Congress of the 1830s political parties became institutionalized, performing the necessary tasks of party cohesion—including patronage—that women such as Louisa had executed earlier. Party machines also took over political campaigns, using techniques with which Louisa would have been familiar. European governments, such as Great Britain’s, struggled toward modernity by bureaucratizing and systematizing their monarchy; the United States found it useful



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to accompany its own modernizing process by using courtly techniques and structures in order to become the most powerful nation state in the modern world. Louisa had contributed to the development of such practices. Living almost another twenty‐five years after she left the White House, she would witness some of these changes herself. While within the pages of her diary during this period Louisa poured out the many sorrows of her life, writing sporadically and mostly as a form of self‐therapy for all she had suffered, particularly the deaths of all but one of her children, her letters continued to exhibit spirit. They also showed a deep interest in the political questions of the day, including the rise of the Whig Party, the Amistad case, and the Mexican– American War. She and John Quincy reached a better understanding in this period as well. Writing to him on November 8, 1840, she closed her letter: “[God] Bless you— for all you teaze me so with your publick whims home is not home without you to your affectionate Wife” (Adams Family Papers). Louisa C. J. Adams was felled by a heart attack in 1852, just four years after her husband had died of a massive cerebral hemorrhage following an emphatic protest he made in Congress against the Mexican– American War. She remains the only first lady born outside the United States. References Adams Family Papers. Massachusetts Historical Society. Unpublished manuscripts (in the author’s transcription). Allgor, C. A. 1997. “‘A Republican in a Monarchy’: Louisa Catherine Adams in Russia.” Diplomatic History 21 (1): 15–43. Allgor, C. A. 2000. Parlor Politics: In Which the Ladies of Washington Help Build a City and a Government. Charlottesville: University of Virginia Press.

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Butterfield, L. H. 1974. “Tending a Dragon‐ Killer: Notes for the Biographer of Mrs. John Quincy Adams.” Proceedings of the American Philosophical Society 118: 165–178. Challinor, J. R. 1985. “‘A Quarter‐Taint of Maryland Blood’: An Inquiry into the Anglo/ Maryland Background of Mrs. John Quincy Adams.” Maryland Historical Magazine 80: 409–419. Challinor, J. R. 1987. “The Mis‐education of Louisa Catherine Johnson Adams.” Proceedings of the Massachusetts Historical Society 98: 21–48. Challinor, J. R. 1982. “Louisa Catherine Johnson Adams: The Price of Ambition.” Dissertation, American University, Washington, DC. Corbett, K. T. 1979. “Louisa Catherine Adams: The Anguished ‘Adventures of a Nobody.’” In Woman’s Being, Woman’s Place: Female Identity and Vocation in American History, edited by M. Kelley, 67–84. Boston: G. K. Hall. Graham, J. S., B. Luey, M. A. Hogan, and C. J. Taylor, eds. 2012. Diary and Autobiographical Writings of Louisa Catherine Adams, 2 vols. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. [= LCJA, “Record”; LCJA, “Adventures”]. Heffron, M. M. 2010. “‘A Fine Romance’: The Courtship Correspondence of Louisa Catherine Johnson and John Quincy Adams.” New England Quarterly 83 (2): 200–218. Heffron, M. M. 2014. Louisa Catherine: The Other Mrs. Adams, edited by D. L. Michelmore. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press. Lange, A. 2009. “Chocolate Preparation and Serving Vessels in Early North America.” In Chocolate: History, Culture, and Heritage, edited by L. E. Grivetti and H.‐Y. Shapiro, 129–142. Hoboken, NJ: John Wiley & Sons, Inc. Mitchell, S., ed. 1947. New Letters of Abigail Adams, 1788–1801. Boston: Houghton Mifflin. O’Brien, M. 2010. Mrs. Adams in Winter: A Journey in the Last Days of Napoleon. New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux. Nagel, P. C. 1983. Descent from Glory: Four Generations of the John Adams Family. New York: Oxford University Press. Nagel, P. C. 1987. The Adams Women: Abigail and Louisa Adams, Their Sisters and Daughters. New York: Oxford University Press.

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Nagel, P. C. 1999. John Quincy Adams: A Public Life, a Private Life. Boston: Knopf. Price, J. M., ed. 1979. Joshua Johnson’s Letterbook, 1771–1774. London: London Record Society. Also www.british‐history.ac.uk (accessed November 7, 2012). Roberts, C. 2008. Ladies of Liberty: The Women Who Shaped Our Nation. New York: Harper. Shepherd, J. 1975. The Adams Chronicles: Four Generations of Greatness. Boston: Little, Brown.

Shepherd, J. 1980. Cannibals of the Heart: A Personal Biography of Louisa Catherine and John Quincy Adams. New York: McGraw‐Hill.

Further Reading Kelley, M., ed. 1979. Woman’s Being, Woman’s Place: Female Identity and Vocation in American History. Boston: G. K. Hall.

Chapter Seven

Rachel Donelson Robards Jackson: A Reluctant First Lady Christina Mune

The Sprightly Pioneer Woman Who Sparked a Political Storm Introduction Although First Lady Rachel Jackson passed away a few months before the inauguration of President Elect Andrew Jackson, their marriage deeply affected Jackson‐era Washington and the presidency itself. Rachel’s legacy of a folksy, pioneer woman who loved home and church became an archetypal American image after her death, but the scandal of her failed first marriage and possibly premature remarriage to Andrew haunted her in life. Biographers’ treatment of Rachel has changed drastically over the nearly two centuries that have passed since her death, yet certain themes of marriage, morality, and class persist. Scholars agree that the scandals that surrounded Rachel and Andrew set the tone for a new kind of politicking in America. Rachel’s suc­ cessor and daughter‐in‐law Emily Donelson also faced scandals of marriage and morality, since she was a significant player in the Petticoat Affair—a political upheaval that

rocked Jackson’s Cabinet during his first presidential term. She, too, died before Jackson’s presidency was through. A second daughter‐in‐law, Sarah Yorke Jackson, con­ tinued the duties of White House hostess until the end of Jackson’s term. Rachel’s youth Born on June 16, 1767 in Pittsylvania County, Virginia, Rachel Donelson was the ninth of eleven children born to Captain John Donelson and to Rachel Stockley Donelson. John Donelson was a well‐ regarded surveyor in Virginia and had served under George Washington in the Revolutionary War. As a child, Rachel had visited both George Washington’s and Thomas Jefferson’s house with her father, a member of the House of Burgesses (Harris, 2005). Yet most of the early twentieth‐ century biographical treatments of Rachel Jackson play up her rustic pioneer image, in accordance with her husband’s early legacy. The narrative generally begins with the Donelson family’s journey through untamed

A Companion to First Ladies, First Edition. Edited by Katherine A. S. Sibley. © 2016 John Wiley & Sons, Inc. Published 2016 by John Wiley & Sons, Inc.

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American backcountry to Cumberland Gap, later Nashville, in the wild frontier of Tennessee. Largely derived from Laura C. Holloway’s (1870) Victorian treatment of Rachel in The Ladies of the White House, the story relies on the journals of Captain Donelson and his fellow travelers. In Holloway’s work, the twelve‐year‐old Rachel is described as “bright‐eyed, black‐ haired, and sprightly” (Holloway, 1870: 287). Rachel’s journey to Tennessee, in which she suffered first a terrible winter at Fort Patrick Henry and then a harrowing boat ride down the Holston and Ohio Rivers, during which the growing party fell under the attack of local Native Americans such as the Chickamaugas, are the stuff of political legend. In a Being So Gentle: The Frontier Love Story of Rachel and Andrew Jackson, Patricia Brady (2011) provides a somewhat more objective narrative. She, too, explores the journey through the journals of those present, but with a more balanced attitude toward the Native Americans and the terrain involved. Pamela Burke’s 1941 biography of Rachel’s niece Emily Donelson, Emily Donelson of Tennessee (Burke, 2001), also highlights the Donelsons’ journey, relying on the stories that Rachel passed down to her young nieces and nephews. Not surpris­ ingly, her book follows closely Holloway’s version. As with everything surrounding the Jacksons’ history, it can be difficult to sep­ arate fact from the long‐standing legacies designed to defend Rachel’s character later in her life. Holloway described Rachel as having grown up amid the trials and dangers of the frontier life, but the examples that she  daily saw of noble fortitude, of calm bravery, and of heroic labor were worth many a tamer and weaker lesson of more civilized life. (Holloway, 1870: 288)

Presumably this was Holloway’s polite way of saying that Rachel lacked preparation for

the high society she would later be expected to inhabit, first as General Jackson’s and then as President Jackson’s wife. In her book Dames and Daughter of the Young Republic, biographer Geraldine Brooks (1901: 217) describes Rachel as a “regular pioneer type of woman, such as was often to be met with in the frontier towns of our country during the earliest days of the republic.” Rachel was a “merry story‐teller, a rollicking dancer, a daring horse‐woman, and withal a most jolly and entertaining companion” (217–218). This description is reminiscent of one given by Andrew Jackson’s biographer James Parton, who wrote that Rachel was the “best story‐teller, the best dancer, the sprightliest of compan­ ion, the most dashing horsewoman in the western country” (Parton, 1860, 1: 133). Another early biographical anthology, Meade Minnigerode’s (1926) book Some American Ladies, takes a different tack in its lengthy section on Rachel Jackson, which is preceded by a nine‐page description of how, after the initial publication of this biography in magazine format, the citizens of Tennessee condemned the work and Minnigerode for writing it. This author describes Rachel Jackson as “[t]he first essentially plain, simple, quite commonplace woman of the people to achieve the privi­ lege of residence in the great house at Washington” (Minnigerode, 1926: 195). She then proceeds to disparage Rachel in relation to Mmes. Madison, Monroe, and Adams, eventually concluding that there was “nothing retiring or submissive” about Rachel, that “she liked a good time, and never failed to attract attention” (199). Not surprisingly, these statements raised the cha­ grin of early twentieth‐century Tennessee natives dedicated to the legacy of the Jacksons. The similarity of Minnigerode’s language to that used almost one hundred years earlier in other attacks, leveled not only against Rachel Jackson but also against Margaret (Peggy) Eaton, another contro­ versial woman in Andrew Jackson’s life,



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illustrates the importance of studying the Jacksonian scandals if we wish to refine our understanding of politics, womanhood, and gender during that period and later. Nearly forty years after Minnigerode, the treatment of the Jacksons in Margaret Bassett’s (1964) Profiles and Portraits of American Presidents and Their Wives dedi­ cates more pages to the wife than to the president himself—an unusual practice in works of this kind, but one that underlines once again the importance of the marriage scandal in framing popular perceptions of the Jacksons. Bassett delves into Rachel’s mannerisms during her young womanhood, contextualizing her character within her pioneer upbringing. Bassett maintains that all the coarse, folksy traits ascribed to the frontier‐raised Rachel by her later detractors are true: she smoked a pipe, used terrible syntax and had no grammar to speak of, and married Andrew Jackson under questionable circumstances. To Bassett (1964: 74), “none of these eccentricities are particularly relevant to the woman’s character and personality”; all were acceptable traits of contemporary pioneer women. She con­ cludes, like many others, that Rachel was “illiterate” given her poor spelling and grammar, but does not fault her for it. Other scholars, such as Patricia Brady (2011), invoke the lack of opportunity for education in early Tennessee to explain Rachel’s difficulties in writing, which her correspondence displays. Challenges included a dearth of educational institutions (especially for women), or even of tutors and the pressing need for women in Rachel’s position to learn practical skills like horse riding, sewing and agriculture. Brady (2011: 32) submits that Rachel’s letters prove her to be more educated than many of her fellow frontierswomen. Schneider and Schneider’s Biographical Dictionary of First Ladies claims, however, that Rachel “was barely able to read and write” (Schneider and Schneider, 2010: 358). This text relegates Rachel Jackson to a

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section titled “Presidential Spouses Who Did Not Live to Be First Ladies,” although Rachel receives twice as much space as any other deceased first lady. The work provides a succinct description of her life and some interesting tidbits that get lost in longer works, more concerned with specific areas of the Jacksons’ history. Contemporary physical descriptions of young Rachel are fairly consistent. Many of them confirm Holloway’s and Brooks’s later descriptions: an active girl with flowing black hair, dark eyes and notable horse‐ riding skills. Biographers often mention Rachel’s tanned skin, in contrast to the pale‐skinned standards of beauty of the period. Description of her dark coloring, which was sometimes attributed to her active life outdoors in Tennessee, appear many times in letters written by her peers, often disparagingly. Rachel would later be called Jackson’s “bonny brown wife,” a label she received during the couple’s trip to New Orleans in 1815 (Brooks, 1901: 227). Always described as stout or robust, Rachel would later become portly, perhaps due to trouble with her breathing and heart. Bill Harris (2005) gives us a quick but fair eight‐page sketch on Rachel Jackson in The First Ladies Fact Book, which offers an especially enlightening comparison between Rachel’s physical features and characteris­ tics, as described by political detractors, and the woman’s real appearance and identity (Harris, 2005: 126–127). Marriages to Robards and Jackson At the age of seventeen, this “sprightly” if undereducated young woman married Lewis Robards, ten years her senior. The new Mrs. Robards moved with her husband into her mother‐in‐law’s Kentucky boardinghouse in 1785. During the same period Rachel’s father was shot and killed by an unknown assailant while traveling the rough terrain between Virginia and Tennessee. It was said

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that her father was killed by Native Americans in the area, but Rachel never believed it. According to her, Donelson “knew their ways too well” (Parton 1860: 133). Perhaps Rachel suspected foul play on the part of a specific party, but this is not revealed in available correspondence. Among Rachel’s biographers, Brady (2011) and Boller (1989) provide the most detailed coverage of this time in Rachel’s life. The first volume of Remini’s (1977) Andrew Jackson, as well as James Parton’s (1980) Life of Andrew Jackson, offer signifi­ cant analyses of this period. The pamphlets published by the Nashville Central Committee and the reports in the Nashville Republican and State Gazetteer during June 1827 are useful primary sources for those researching the events of Rachel’s first marriage. Accounts of the Robards are similar across most narratives. Rachel appears as a  friendly young woman who enjoyed keeping company with the men of the boardinghouse, as she would have in her community in Tennessee; Robards, as a man of violent fits of jealousy and constant accu­ sations. Available details of Rachel’s time in the Robards’ boardinghouse appear to be based on narratives published during the campaign of 1828 by Jackson supporters. Particularly useful is the story of Judge John  Overton, a lawyer reportedly staying in the Robards’ and, later, in the widowed Mrs. Donelson’s boardinghouses during Rachel and Lewis’s fitful union. Overton’s story is related quite fully in Parton (1860) and in Brady (2011). Corroboration by witnesses as well as by Rachel and Andrew themselves supports Overton’s testimony; but, again, the political nature of these remembrances must be pointed out. Judge Overton claimed that, while the couple lived in Kentucky with Robards’ mother, Lewis accused Rachel of having inappropriate relationships with other men in the boardinghouse. At some point a certain Mr. Short became a particular target of

Lewis’ jealousy. According to Brady, Short even proposed that Rachel and he elope, although the biographer denies Rachel’s knowledge of Short’s intentions (Brady, 2011: 36). After discovering these commu­ nications, Lewis challenged Short to a duel but ended up accepting $1,000 in damages from Short instead of fighting. The situa­ tion at home became increasingly hostile during the escapade, causing the couple’s first split in 1788, when Rachel was twenty‐ one years old. In some accounts, Rachel left Robards for her mother’s house on her own initiative; in others, Robards sent Rachel away, possibly asking her mother to send a family member to escort her back to Tennessee. The truthfulness of Lewis’s accusations remains questionable. Overton’s 1828 story maintains that Robards’ own mother “always blamed her son Lewis, and took the part of her daughter‐in‐law” during disputes regarding Rachel’s alleged impro­ priety (Holloway, 1870: 277). One boarder, apparently backed by Lewis’s sister‐in‐law, accused Lewis of violence toward Rachel and indicated that it was the husband rather than the wife who was guilty of infidelity, which reportedly he committed by cajoling or forcing enslaved women to sleep with him (Remini, 1977: 44; Brady, 2011: 36). Although Lewis’s mother and sister‐in‐ law sided with Rachel and the Donelsons had already welcomed her home, all par­ ties  apparently preferred reconciliation. However, the terms necessitated that Lewis come to Tennessee and settle near Rachel’s family, likely to give assurance that he would be suitably supervised by those with Rachel’s interest in mind. The newly reconciled couple settled near the Donelsons’ land, on which Rachel’s mother now ran her own boardinghouse. Again, Rachel enjoyed spending time there in the lively company of the boarders (and perhaps feeling protected from her husband). During this period a young, lanky lawyer had settled into widow Donelson’s rooms



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and quickly fell in love with Rachel. Rachel reciprocated the feelings, reportedly drawn to the overtly chivalrous nature often described in connection with the then twenty‐ one‐year‐old Andrew Jackson. Andrew took an equal interest in Rachel and likely her dramatic misfortunes, in line with his reputa­ tion as a defender of women (Remini, 1977: 44). Again, Overton, then boarding with the Donelsons, states that Lewis created public scenes, displaying his jealousy of his wife even when the couple resided in Nashville. Lewis challenged Andrew both verbally and through a peace warrant against him, despite Jackson’s request they duel. According to Overton’s account, related in Brady (2011), the local frontier community did not take kindly to Lewis’s cowardly pursuit of the warrant over the duel and basically ignored his accusations. By the summer of 1789 Lewis left Nashville, perhaps out of fear of Andrew, for Kentucky. Disputes over the timeline of Rachel’s initial marriage to Andrew are inevitable, given the level of scrutiny and politicking attached to it in later elections. According to Bassett (1964), in 1790 Rachel decided to visit friends in Natchez, then part of Spanish Florida, in order to escape any likelihood that Robards, having absconded to Kentucky in 1789, would come back and reclaim their marriage. Boller (1989) also states that Rachel initially planned to leave for Natchez with a family friend, Colonel Robert Stark, hoping to meet up with friends in that territory rather than submit to demands for the reconciliation that Lewis was rumored to desire. Andrew volunteered to accompany them in case of native attack along the way (Boller, 1989: 67). Brady claims that Andrew Jackson took Rachel to Natchez in order for the two of them to live together safely in the Spanish‐owned land, outside the jurisdiction of the United States, where Rachel was legally married to Lewis. He also suggests that Andrew swore fealty to the Spanish king in order to relocate there (Brady, 2011: 48).

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Testimonials in support of Andrew’s presidential bid in 1827 indicate that he returned to Nashville to continue his work in the law, but after hearing that Lewis Robards had petitioned to divorce Rachel in 1791 he went again to Natchez to marry her, wrongly believing that the divorce already granted. It was not until 1793 that the Jacksons, living happily together on their own land since the fall of 1791, found out that the divorce had never been secured. After some debate, the couple married again in Nashville on January 15, 1794, by which time the divorce was final. However, Boller (1989) questions the validity of the Natchez marriage—according to Boller and Remini there are no records of it—and points out, like some other authors, that it is unlikely that Andrew Jackson, a  lawyer and, later, a state supreme court judge, would not know the requirements and process of a divorce in Tennessee or Kentucky (both were under the purview of the Virginia legislature). Additionally, the eight notices requesting Rachel’s appear­ ance before the court on the subject of her adultery, published in the Kentucky Gazette in the winter of 1792, after the Jacksons’ return to Nashville in the fall of 1791, would likely have been seen by friends and family, if not by Andrew himself (Boller, 1989: 68–69). Remini’s analysis minces no words: Rachel knew that, by falling in love with Andrew and retreating to Natchez in 1790, she was committing adultery. Remini also contends that Andrew’s accompaniment of Rachel to Natchez amounts to a calculated move to force Lewis Robards into suing for divorce, so that the two could marry legally (Remini, 1977: 65). Such questions apparently did not plague their Nashville community, friends or family, as Andrew’s practice continued to grow once he went back home, and his civil and military career flourished. Boller suggests that this lack of concern on the part of con­ temporaries in the 1790s reflects the esteem the couple maintained in the community.

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One Nashville neighbor later wrote that, at the time, “no one believed they acted crimi­ nally” (Boller, 1989: 69). Brady (2011) points out that self‐marriage and self‐divorce were real and important concepts to frontier people, living as they did in areas where little official authority existed, and Boller’s discussion provides additional support for this assessment (Brady, 2011: 45–46; Boller, 1989: 68–69). Recent scholarship on frontier life affirms this idea, as do a number of newly published narratives from contemporary pioneers in the west. Life at the Hermitage Biographers agree that Rachel preferred staying home with her family, friends, and many visitors rather than accompanying her husband in his ceaseless campaigns and traveling. After spending some years at Jackson’s plantation at Hunter’s Hill, which they had to sell in 1804, they moved into a log cabin next door, on an unimproved lot of 425 acres. Eventually, under Rachel’s careful stewardship and economy along with Andrew’s continued success in politics, the lot and cabin grew into a 1,200‐acre estate with a comfortable mansion known as the Hermitage. A detailed, more contemporary description of the Hermitage can be found in Holloway (1870). Bassett (1969) describes Rachel as a Virginia planter‐class autocrat—benign and tolerant—who watched her husband’s fighting, gambling, and politicking from afar. She stayed at the Hermitage during most of Jackson’s appointments, and in this she was no different from most political wives, who similarly refrained from travel­ ling with their husbands to Philadelphia and other political capitals during those early years of the republic. Rachel begrudged Andrew’s constant absence, writing in 1812: “Do not, my beloved husband, let the love of country, fame and honor, make you forget you have [a wife]” (Boller, 1969: 69).

Still, Rachel was uninterested in accompa­ nying him, even as she frequently worried over his absences. He consistently com­ plained about ill health and loneliness, and  this pushed Rachel’s already nervous temperament into occasional neurotic out­ bursts. By all accounts Rachel was an anxious woman. She wrote to Jackson during the War of 1812: “Where’er I go, where’er I  turn, my thoughts, my fears, my doubts distress me” (Boller, 1989: 69). Despite such worries, her kindness was widely noted as well. At the Hermitage as in their previous residences, Rachel and Andrew showed unfailing hospitality, taking in nieces and nephews, friends, supporters and even Jackson’s army acquaintances and boys who served under him. Details of this hospitality, usually through the letters of the Jacksons’ friends and family, are available in numerous sources. Rachel is often associ­ ated with a love of young people and a desire to have them near her, to hear their stories, and to keep the Hermitage a lively place to stay. Her numerous nieces and nephews seemed to fulfill this need through many fond remembrances of “Aunt Rachel” in their correspondence. The Jacksons’ propensity to take on wards in lieu of their own children supports this theory. Although the couple remained childless throughout their marriage, the Jacksons raised four children as their own at the Hermitage. The first was adopted through Rachel’s family, when her brother Severus had twins. One of the twins, a boy, was presented to the Jacksons and they named him Andrew Jackson Junior. He was legally adopted the day after his birth in 1809, through the Kentucky legislature. The second was a three‐year‐old Creek Indian boy found by Andrew during the Creek War in 1813: Lincoyer or Lynconya. Rachel also reared Andrew Jackson Hutchings, the son of Andrew’s deceased army friend, and Andrew Jackson Donelson, their nephew and, later, secre­ tary to President Jackson.



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It must have been a cause of constant sorrow to Rachel that she could not bear children, as motherhood was regarded in the nineteenth century as necessary for the achievement of true Christian womanhood, especially for a woman so focused on home and family as Rachel. Brady (2011) provides the most thorough account of Rachel’s experience with childlessness, although more work in that area of this first lady’s life is needed. According to Brady (2011: 67), in August 1795 the Jacksons purchased Alexander Hamilton, M.D.’s book On Female Complaints, a popular work on curing sterility. It is likely that Rachel would have internalized the blame for the couple’s lack of offspring, in accordance with the medical and moral beliefs of the period. While it is possible that Rachel was infertile—she bore no children to either husband, while Lewis Robards had nine children with his second wife—Andrew too may have contributed to their infertility, as no illegitimate offspring has ever been attributed to him. The Jacksons’ adoption of the Creek Indian boy Lynconya is dealt with differently depending on the position of the author and the sources used. Parton (1860) describes the boy as being saved from the dead breast of his mother on the Talluschatches field, a tale that most other authors relate, and claims that the child was raised at the Hermitage as a son. However, Burke (2001: 46) cites Jackson’s personal correspondence (which called the boy “savage”) and argues that Lynconya may have represented more of an exotic playmate for Andrew Junor than an equal ward. Bassett (1969) also sees Lynconya as a figure sent to the Hermitage as a pet for Andrew Junior, but one that Rachel quickly grew to love and took on as her own. Burke’s research indicates that Lynconya may have run away to his own people sometime in 1824, although Parton’s (1860) account claims that Andrew took Lynconya to Nashville, to deliver him to an apprenticeship in harness making. All her biographers agree that Rachel was emotionally

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distraught over Lynconya’s death from tuberculosis at the age of sixteen, just a few months before her own, in 1828. The details of the Jacksons’ relationship with the Lynconya may be of interest to those studying Andrew Jackson’s policy and relationship with Native Americans. By all accounts Rachel lived the life of a southern plantation woman, with the added burden of an absentee husband. At the time of his election, Andrew Jackson owned nearly a hundred slaves who worked at the Hermitage as well as at his Mississippi plantation (Cheathem, 2014). According to Brady (2011), Rachel found friendship with one of them, an enslaved woman named Hannah, who was instrumental in the running of the household and largely responsible for its success, as Rachel became increasingly ill from heart palpitations and shortness of breath. These complaints began in 1825 but seemed to grow worse with the stress of the campaigns (Boller, 1989: 70). Hannah gave multiple interviews regarding her life at the Hermitage under the Jacksons, including one to Jackson’s biographer James Parton. She gave two others to local newspapers, the Cincinnati Commercial in 1880 and the Nashville Daily American in 1894, covering the Jacksons’ treatment of their slaves at the Hermitage. Although Hannah described Andrew as generally paternalistic, Mark Cheathem sheds light on violent punish­ ments administered to the Jacksons’ slaves— treatments akin to those on other southern plantations. Rachel once complained that her enslaved servant Betty had “been putting on airs, and [was] guilty of a great deal of impudence” on account of taking in neigh­ borhood washing without Rachel’s per­ mission. For that Betty was whipped 50 times while tied to a public whipping post (Cheathem, 2014). Although early works on Rachel note the close relationship between slave and master and are often steeped in the paternalistic rhetoric typical of slave owners’ defenses of that “peculiar institution,” modern scholarship on the

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antebellum South provides better insight into Rachel’s connection with enslaved women like Hannah and Betty. It is telling that Hannah left in 1863, once the Civil War gave her a chance to emancipate herself; according to Sarah Yorke Jackson, Rachel’s daughter‐in‐law, Hannah went “over to the Yankees” (Cheathem, 2014). Letters between Rachel, Andrew, and her family and friends illustrate the deeply religious person Rachel became later in her  life. She joined the Presbyterian Church in 1819 under the Reverend Gideon Blackburn, a minister with a growing fol­ lowing in Tennessee at the time. As part of the Second Great Awakening, Rachel was one of many women who took strongly to Protestant and evangelical faiths during the period. She persuaded some of her family members to join the Presbyterian faith, although her husband did not show any religious inclination until much later in life,  after Rachel’s death. Brady (2011) dedicates a good portion of the chapter “Great Convulsions” in A Being So Gentle to the history of religion in Rachel’s family, the growth of her religious feelings, and the place of faith on the frontier. According to Brady, these differences over religion con­ tributed to Rachel’s and Andrew’s divergent opinions on what constituted a happy life— one of fulfilled ambition versus one of quiet living at home and doing good (Brady, 2011: 110). Remini, and later Boller, argue that Rachel’s deepening devotion to reli­ gion and to more moralistic behaviors stems from remorse over her early wild years and over the constant accusations of impropriety that resulted (Remini, 1977: 59–60; Boller, 1989: 69). According to Remini (1977), “[i]t is possible her later life constituted one long act of expatiation” (59–60). No other biographer goes so far, however. Instead she is often described as a model of Protestant charity and forgiveness. Her personal letters constantly cite God and Jesus as a source of comfort. As with many Protestant women of the time, her religion informed her

prejudices. This is especially apparent in her description of Floridian “savages” during her stay in Pensacola with Jackson in 1821. Travelling with Andrew After General Jackson’s triumph in the Battle of New Orleans in 1815, Rachel and Andrew visited New Orleans to celebrate. According to Minnigerode’s uncited sources, the Creole and the French ladies helped Rachel with proper New Orleans clothing and etiquette, to the extent of standing behind her while she accepted guests at various balls and banquets and moderating her comments (Minnigerode, 1926: 215). Yet even here she was met with some ridicule, as when a European business­ man pointed out the strange pair made by the long, thin Andrew dancing with the short, stout Rachel (Brady, 2011: 143– 144). Her dark complexion and folksiness were at odds with the social circles Jackson’s rank put her in; yet Rachel reportedly enjoyed herself. In contrast to Rachel’s celebratory time in New Orleans, she was considerably less enthusiastic six years later during Andrew’s appointment as governor of Florida territory, which took them again through New Orleans and on to Pensacola, where Jackson would serve his term. By comparison to Tennessee, she saw Florida’s inhabitants as heathen and the place as a “Great Babylon” (Brady, 2011: 162). Jackson’s acceptance of the Pensacola governorship in 1821 had been partly in hopes of moving Rachel to a more temperate climate, where the weather might help clear up burgeoning issues with shortness of breath reported in her letters and Andrew’s. Florida’s beauty at least did uplift her spirits. In her letters to her friend Elizabeth Kingsley, Rachel pens wonderfully detailed descriptions of the territory, painting a picture of exotic fruits and flowers, crumbling houses, overgrown squares, and a diverse, multilingual population. However,



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Rachel also describes her disgust with the fact that the largely Catholic or unreligious Floridians did not respect the Sabbath. She writes: The Sabbath [is] profanely kept: a great deal of noise and swearing in the streets; shops kept open; trade going on … They were so boisterous on that day I sent Major Stanton to say to them that the approaching Sunday would be differently kept. (Jackson et al., 1996: 80)

Once Jackson was governor, she pushed for him to establish and enforce rules requiring Floridians to close their businesses on Sundays and to refrain from gambling, drinking, and dancing (Brooks, 1901: 231–234; Minnigerode, 1926: 221–226). According to Minnigerode (1926: 222), the people of Florida “hated her,” as they did their new Governor Jackson, for this and other punitive controls enforced in the newly acquired land. After four months Rachel experienced no improvement to her health and the two left after Jackson resigned the “arduous” task of his governorship (Brooks, 1901: 231). Schneider and Schneider’s brief account of Rachel’s life highlights the Jacksons’ quick retreat from Florida not only as the results of her distaste for the lax morality or unim­ proved health, but also from Governor Jackson’s inability to appoint his friends into office there, “in part the reason of his coming” (Schneider and Schneider, 2010: 359). After a brief respite at the Hermitage, Rachel accompanied Andrew to Washington, DC in 1822, during his stint as senator, and again in 1824, during his election campaign of that year. Rachel was inclined to stay home in Tennessee, but both her husband and John Eaton, a long‐time Jackson political supporter, persuaded her to accompany Andrew to Washington. Reports of her time there vary. According to the couple’s correspondence, Rachel and Andrew stayed largely out of

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society during their periods in Washington, although during this 1824–1825 visit she enjoyed meeting Peggy O’Neal Timberlake, the future Peggy Eaton, the woman who would disrupt Andrew’s career so drastically during the Eaton or Petticoat Affair a few years later. Jackson wrote that, instead of attending parties with Washington society, he and Rachel mostly stayed “at home smoking our pipe” (Brady, 2011: 185). Rachel’s letters from 1824 reveal that she had formed religious objections to the plays, balls, and parties frequented by the Washington elite, although this is rarely cited as the reason for her lack of interest (Jackson, 1996: 456). More commonly Rachel’s biographers refer to her nature as a homebody and to her retiring personality rather than her religious inclinations in order to explain her decisions to stay in with her husband. Andrew’s letters from this period reflect a politician quietly gaining favor through personal connections and intimate conversations. Some biographers claim that Washing­ tonians were disappointed that the potential first lady did not smoke pipes in Washington drawing rooms and prove herself a country hick. Others, like the amateur Tennessee historian Susan Sawyer in her work More Than Petticoats: Remarkable Tennessee Women, quote one guest’s description of Rachel when meeting her at a January 1825 Washington party: “stout, vulgar, illiterate” (Sawyer, 2000: 25). This mirrored responses to Rachel Jackson’s 1815 appearances in Washington after the triumph of the War of 1812. Contemporaries then reported her as “totally uninformed in mind and matters,” but softened this vision by describing her as “extremely civil in her way” (Sawyer, 2000: 24–25). Reports of Rachel’s illiteracy and vulgarity a decade later were likely exacer­ bated and propagated by her husband’s political enemies, who frequently used the Jacksons’ pioneer origins to cast doubt on their character and on Andrew’s ability to lead a nation. With no diplomatic experience or

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Cabinet appointments under his belt, Andrew could be easily dismissed by 1824 presidential contenders such as Adams, Clay, and Crawford as a “military chieftain” and country bumpkin. The Jacksons’ disputed marriage dates provided fodder for those wishing to show Andrew as immoral or wild. These themes would become central to the infamously dirty anti‐Jackson campaigns of 1828, which seem to taint the recollections of many who aligned themselves with opposing camps. Despite vehement and scathing attacks on Jackson as a murderer on account of his war exploits in the election of 1824, he had won the greatest percentage of the popular vote. Still, without a majority vote (over 50 per cent) earned by any candidate, the election of the president fell to the House of Representatives, where Henry Clay influenced the selection of Secretary of State John Quincy Adams for the post rather than that of the more popular Jackson. Jackson and his supporters did not give up their presi­ dential ambitions and continued to campaign through the next four years. Even with her increasingly troublesome heart condition, Rachel was occasionally persuaded to join him, as she did during the 1824–1825 Washington visit. Rachel also accompanied her husband for the anniversary of the Battle of New Orleans in January 1828. On both of these visits observers described a Rachel much changed from the spirited pioneer woman of her youth. Charlotte Van Cleve, the daughter of one of Jackson’s officers at the time of Rachel’s death, recalls an older Rachel as a coarse looking, stout, little old woman, whom you might easily mistake for [the general’s] washerwoman, were it not for the marked attention he pays her, and the love and admiration she manifests for him. Her eyes are bright, and express great kindness of heart; her face is rather broad, her features plain, her complexion so dark as almost to suggest a mingling of races in that climate where such things sometimes

occur. … Her figure is rather full, but loosely and carelessly dressed … so that when she is seated she seems to settle into herself, in a manner that is neither graceful nor elegant. (Van Cleve, 1888: 82)

Researchers must carefully consider the origin and the place of such descriptions, which may have been tainted by the anti‐ Jackson campaigns in the 1820s or the Petticoat Affair muckraking during Jackson’s presidency. Nevertheless, sufficient reports exist that corroborate the descriptions of Rachel as stout, obese, or of full figure to assume it is true. Her fight with heart disease, indicated in letters as shortness of breath and chest pains, may have been either a result or a cause of this physical condition. Regardless, the couple’s affection for each other seemed never to wane. Rachel’s heart condition continued to worsen once she was back home in Tennessee after the first failed presidential run. In 1824 Andrew stated that those attacking his wife “would attempt to disturb the repose of an innocent female in her declining years.” Bassett (1969: 81) believes Jackson meant these words literally, not just in political rhetoric. By 1825 Rachel had become so weak she was unable to attend events in Nashville (81).

The campaign of 1828 Rachel’s good name had begun to suffer soon after Lewis Robards received a divorce for his wife’s adultery in 1793. As early as 1804 the Jacksons had faced political hostil­ ity on account of Rachel’s “adultery” with Jackson while she was still married to Robards. In that year, Jackson challenged the Tennessee governor and political enemy John Sevier to a duel after Sevier told Jackson: “I know of no great service you have ever rendered your country except taking a trip to Natchez with another man’s



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wife” (Parton, 1860: 164). As a prominent founding family of Nashville, the Donelsons would have been spotlighted and discussed in the local papers and taverns for such indiscretions. These accusations only grew stronger with Andrew’s political ambition. The smears that circulated in the 1824 cam­ paign ­foreshadowed the devastating slander of the dirty campaign between Adams and Jackson in 1828. The mudslinging politics associated with the 1828 election is largely considered the worst in history up to that point; it was the first time that a potential first lady was attacked with such blatant vigor and disre­ gard for propriety. Of the first lady antholo­ gies, Paul Boller’s (1989) Presidential Wives offers readers an excellent recap of the sys­ tematic slandering of Rachel as a bigamist in the 1828 election, an episode also known as the Robards Affair, laying out a succinct timeline of pamphlets, players and responses. Henry Clay’s supporter Charles Hammond was among the worst of the scandalmongers; he published three issues of an anti‐Jackson tract in 1827 and 1828, first in the Cincinnati Gazette, then as a journal titled Truth’s Advocate and Monthly Anti‐Jackson Expositor, and finally as a pamphlet under the name View of General Jackson’s Domestic Relations, in Reference to his Fitness for the Presidency (Hammond, 1828). These publi­ cations recounted the Jacksons’ courtship as an “indecent outrage,” as Rachel was a married woman at their initial meeting. Hammond labeled the couple “creatures of passion,” a phrase that would have deeply disturbed a pious Rachel. In thinly veiled attacks against her, Hammond takes Jackson to task for his role in exposing Mrs. Jackson to political attacks—because, unlike examples of “female excellence … who subjected all her actions to the restraint and regulations of propriety,” Rachel had let loose “her feel­ ings, inclinations and passions, regardless of the decorum which alone renders the sex estimable.” She was a “female aberration” (Hammond, 1828: 20–21). The pamphlet

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asked the public: “Ought a convicted adul­ teress and her paramour husband to be placed in the highest offices of this free and Christian Land?” (14). Remini, the foremost modern source on Jackson’s life and times, includes copious quotations from the pamphlets and newspa­ pers involved in the exploitation and scan­ dal. Volumes 2 and 3 of Remini’s Andrew Jackson (Remini, 1981, 1984) are thus invaluable for studying this and the later Eaton Affair—a similar scandal involving long‐time Jackson supporters John and Peggy Eaton. Remini digs deeply into the Jackson camp’s response to their opponents’ accusations; he also considers the publica­ tions of the Nashville Central Committee, a group of Jackson supporters specifically convened to combat accusations from Adams’ camp and to get Jackson elected in 1828. The committee prepared a carefully written 30‐page defense addressing every charge laid out against the Jacksons, espe­ cially those that painted Andrew as the immoral seducer of an improperly passion­ ate Rachel Robards. Even as the smear cam­ paign escalated, the Nashville Central Committee continued to refer to the pam­ phlet as its final word on the matter, although duel‐prone Andrew likely wanted a more pro‐active solution. For its part, the Jackson campaign smeared Adams as well, spreading, through party newspapers and pamphlets, rumors of his corruption and aristocratic tendencies. But, to Andrew, the attacks made on his wife and on his deceased mother were particularly egregious and immoral, going beyond the regular political mudslinging. The emergence in the 1990s of research focusing on gender and power in Jacksonian America allows a more complex understand­ ing of the Robards scandal. Norma Basch’s (1993) article “Marriage, Morals, and Politics in the Election of 1828” explores the politicized and gendered nature of this scandal, devised by the Adams camp and used rather effectively during the campaign.

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According to Basch, “marital fidelity stood as a trope for national unity, adultery repre­ sented ­political chaos” (Basch, 1993: 893). By highlighting accusations of infidelity, inappropriate passion, and lack of chastity, Jackson’s detractors slandered Rachel’s and Andrews’ character, depicting them as unfit to inhabit the White House and as a threat to civil order and to America’s superior morality. The same methods would be put to work in the Eaton scandal once Jackson took the White House. Of additional interest for those studying the legacy of Rachel Jackson is Sarah Jeanine Hornsby’s (1994) doctoral disser­ tation “The Protection of an Icon: Nashville, the Ladies Hermitage Association and the Image of Rachel Jackson, 1915– 1945.” Hornsby compares images of Rachel constructed by authors like Minnigerode with a portrait of her produced in 1936 by biographer Mary French Caldwell, in a book titled General Jackson’s Lady, and with another, which emerges from Nellie Treanor Stokes’ short pamphlet Rachel Jackson, published in 1942. These last two biographies are long out of print and suffer from the subjectivity of their time as well as from the influence of the Ladies Hermitage Association, which commis­ sioned them. However, Hornsby’s analysis of these various twentieth‐century biogra­ phies and their contrasting depictions of Rachel as a gender archetype—pious, domestic ideal Victorian; folksy, loose hussy; capable woman of the Old South—will provide first lady scholars with great insight into their subject. Death at the Hermitage In all narratives, the blame for Rachel’s death is inevitably laid at the door of the rampant scandalmongering of the 1828 election. It seems likely that her heart trou­ ble was exacerbated by her propensity for anxiety, which the scandal, a move to

Washington, and worry about her ability to fit in with the fashionable ladies there had all intensified. The constant fits of crying described by most in the weeks before her death indicate that Rachel, already seriously ill with a long‐term disease, may have been experiencing an emotional breakdown (Burke, 2001: 85). The putative first lady withstood a num­ ber of emotional and physical blows during the election returns of 1828. In the sum­ mer of that year her adopted Creek son Lynconya had died of tuberculosis. By most accounts she was overwrought with sorrow for his death, which happened despite her efforts to nurse him. The Hermitage was then overrun with political allies and supporters, as Jackson finished up his bid, winning with 56 percent of the vote. Bassett tells us that, as victory was declared, those loyal to Jackson poured into the estate, looking for rewards and cel­ ebration. Rachel strove to provide suitable hospitality while living in dread of her upcoming trip to Washington, so far from the home and family she had cherished her whole life, and built largely on her own (Bassett, 1969: 81–82). In December 1828, in preparation for the inauguration and the move to Washington, Rachel went shopping in Nashville. By some accounts, she overheard a group discussing the scan­ dals associated with her while she rested in the best hotel in Nashville; according to other accounts, she stopped at her family’s newspaper office, where she read the com­ mittee’s rebuttal of the Adams party’s vehement attacks against her. Both stories might be true, given the political atmos­ phere after the election. Rachel was stricken with the graphic nature of the attacks, which she had been previously unaware of, busy as she was with running the Hermitage and shielded by family and friends. She was distraught enough to speak of refusing to move to the White House with her husband. As she told Emily Donelson:



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I’ll never forget it! Listening to them, it seemed as if a veil was lifted and I saw myself, whom you have all guarded from outside criticism and surrounded with flattering delusions, as others see me, a poor old woman. I will not go to Washington, but stay here as often before in Mr. Jackson’s absences. (Burke, 2001: 120)

On December 17, 1828 Rachel fell ill and was put to bed for three days. It is largely believed she had suffered an initial heart attack due to long‐term angina. Feeling bet­ ter a few days later, she took visitors, but then contracted what was diagnosed as pleurisy. On December 22, while getting ready for bed, Rachel was stricken with another heart attack, fell out of a chair, and never regained consciousness. According to Brady (2011: 221), Jackson demanded that Rachel be bled, though the surgeons knew it was useless. When a cut on her arm let out no blood, he demanded they try the scalp. When that was also unsuccessful, he held her in his arms without cease except for a few hours when her nieces readied her for burial. Andrew Jackson declared, “my heart nearly broke” (Bassett, 1969: 82). Rachel was buried on Christmas Eve, at her beloved Hermitage. Over 10,000 peo­ ple attended the service. The mayor of Nashville, Felix Robertson, signed a resolu­ tion requesting the inhabitants of that city to “abstain from their ordinary business on the to‐morrow, a mark of respect for Mrs. Jackson” (Holloway, 1870: 305). A more complete description of her funeral, derived from interviews that included Rachel’s daughter‐in‐law Sarah Jackson Yorke and quotations from her death notices, can be found in Holloway (1870). An inscription, written by John Eaton, was put on her head­ stone, reading: Here lie the remains of Mrs. Rachel Jackson, wife of President Jackson, who died December 22nd 1828, aged 61. Her face was fair, her person pleasing, her temper

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amiable, and her heart kind. She delighted in relieving the wants of her fellow‐creatures, and cultivated that divine pleasure by the most liberal and unpretending methods. To the poor she was a benefactress; to the rich she was an example; to the wretched a comforter; to the prosperous an ornament. Her pity went hand in hand with her benevolence; and she thanked her Creator for being able to do good. A being so gen­ tle and so virtuous, slander might wound but could not dishonor. Even death, when he tore her from the arms of her husband, could but transplant her to the bosom of her God. (Parton, 1860: 159)

According to Parton, President Jackson never recovered from the death of his wife; he even changed his speech and behavior so as to be less profane, more “correct,” and tried to keep his domestic affairs as Rachel would have (Parton, 1860: 159).

Emily Tennessee Donelson: The Besieged White House Hostess Emily Tennessee Donelson was born on June 1, 1807, the thirteenth child of John Donelson, Rachel Jackson’s brother, and his  wife Mary Purnell, in Donelson, Tennessee. Barely seventeen, Emily married Andrew Jackson Donelson, her first cousin and the ward of Rachel and Andrew Jackson, during the divisive fall of 1824; this made her an adopted daughter‐in‐law of the Jacksons’. The most exhaustive biography of Emily Donelson is Pamela Wilcox Burke’s (2001) multivolume work Emily Donelson of Tennessee. Through letters, anecdotes, and some colorful historical re‐creations, Burke fully explores Emily’s young life in Tennessee (the “Volunteer State”), her family connec­ tions and heritage, her time in Washington (with a focus on the events surrounding the Petticoat Affair and other contemporary issues of interest), and the life‐long sickness leading to her early death. Burke’s work,

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originally published in 1941, was heavily edited by Jonathan Atkins and rereleased in 2001 by the University of Tennessee Press in a more manageable but less interesting edition, which is the one referenced here due to its availability to current scholars. Schneider and Schneider (2010) is another source of note for Emily Donelson; the two authors provide a less romantic, if very brief, overview of Emily in their “biographical treatment.” Emily initially went to school in a log house close to what is now the Hermitage church. Since Rachel Jackson’s late eighteenth‐ century childhood in a newly established Nashville, more educational opportunities had been made available to young ladies of the area, an initiative funded in part by the Jacksons and Donelsons (Burke, 2001: 60). In 1820, at the age of thirteen, Emily entered the Nashville Female Academy, a local school with about one hundred students. Emily was later removed due to health issues and spent much time instead at the Hermitage, with aunt Rachel and the large family clan there (Burke, 2001: 84). Two weeks after marrying Andrew Jackson Donelson, her cousin, in a Presbyterian ceremony at the Hermitage, Emily and her new husband left Tennessee for Washington with their aunt Rachel and uncle Andrew Jackson, the presidential nominee. During this trip to Washington, Emily, unlike her aunt Rachel, strove to don the latest styles, to attend the most fashionable parties, and to make friends with important ladies. According to Burke (2001), with the election campaign underway, Emily longed for Rachel to take initiative in politicking for Andrew, as Mrs. Adams and Mrs. Crawford did for their men and as Emily did for her husband and uncle. Burke provides an image of Emily as young newlywed, enjoying the exciting life of Washington despite her aunt’s lack of enthusiasm for the campaign. Early accounts of Emily take note of her sense of fashion, poise, likability, and virtuous behavior—an indication that she was well

received in Washington society. It seems fitting that Emily Donelson became the White House hostess after Rachel Jackson’s death, since Rachel herself had originally requested Emily go to Washington in her stead after the general’s electoral victory in 1828. Rachel wrote to Emily that year: I will be of no advantage to my husband in the White House and I wish never to go there and disgrace him. You will go and take care of his house for him and I will stay here and take care of everything until he comes back. (Schneider and Schneider, 2010: 359)

While some Washingtonians made comments on Emily’s lack of social polish, inevitable in a woman raised in rural Tennessee, she was often praised for the great food and drink she offered and enjoyed— including spirits, which she reportedly did not shy away from. However, Emily was not ashamed of her upbringing, chastising a foreign minister: “grace is cosmopolite, and like a wildflower, is much oftener found in the woods than in the streets of a city” (Schneider and Schneider, 2010: 364). The correspondence between Emily Donelson and her husband Andrew, President Jackson, General John Coffee, Margaret (Peggy) Eaton, Vice President Van Buren, and Mary Eastin (Emily Donelson’s cousin) is useful in helping us fully understand the fallout between President Jackson and Emily Donelson over the infamous Petticoat Affair. This scandal involved the Washingtonian Peggy Eaton and her hus­ band John Eaton, Jackson’s appointment as secretary of war. During Jackson’s first term (1829–1833), great strife arose between Peggy Eaton and the wives of other Cabinet members over rumors that Peggy had been John Eaton’s mistress before their marriage, and possibly even before Peggy’s first husband’s death at sea in 1828. Peggy’s humble origins may have further exacerbated the unpopularity of her social presence.



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President Jackson defended her honor and refused to snub either Mr. or Mrs. Eaton socially or politically, as he was encouraged to do by many of his advisors—including Emily and Andrew Donelson. Holloway (1870), who rails against the scandalmongers who attacked Rachel Jackson in 1828, avoids almost totally the Eaton scandal, saying only that Emily would accept Mrs. Eaton graciously at the White House due to her status as Cabinet wife, but refused to visit Eaton at her own home—an important social acknowledgement at the time. Emily told her uncle that it did not suit a virtuous woman to visit a lady with such a reputation, and “the President never alluded to the distasteful subject again in her presence” (Holloway, 1870: 327). Burke provides far more insight into the long brewing conflict between Donelson and Eaton by using letters by both women and their Washington contemporaries. Essentially, Peggy dismissed Emily as a young, unsophis­ ticated lady, easily influenced by Washington women who did not have Emily’s or President Jackson’s best interest at heart. Conversely, Emily regarded Eaton as a questionable woman, not welcome in the social circle made up largely of the wives of Cabinet members that Emily had immersed herself in. Both had the ear of President Jackson and a lot of political capital to lose depending on whose side the president took. In the last few decades, a new scrutiny of Eaton and the Petticoat Affair has been made by Jacksonian and gender study schol­ ars. Notable are Leon Phillips’ That Eaton Woman: In Defense of Peggy O’Neal Eaton, published in 1974; John Marszalek’s (2000) The Petticoat Affair: Manners, Mutiny and Sex in Andrew Jackson’s White House; and Catherine Allgor’s (2002) Parlor Politics: In  Which the Ladies of Washington Help Build a City and a Government. All are recommended for scholars seeking to study the issue and Emily Donelson’s involvement. The strained relationship between Emily and one of Andrew Jackson’s favorites

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endangered Emily and Andrew Donelson’s position in the White House on many occasions. President Jackson sympathized with the scandalized Eatons, who suffered under criticism and gossip regarding their marital fidelity—much as he and Rachel had. According to Marszalek (2000: 48–49), direct comparisons were made between Rachel, an accused bigamist, and Peggy. Letters written in early 1828 reveal that Washington society had decided that Mrs.  Eaton would make a suitable lady in  waiting for Mrs. Jackson, as “birds of a feather will flock together.” In 1830 Emily Donelson either removed herself from the White House or was sent away by the president (accounts diverge on this point) over disagreements with him on how best to handle the Eaton issue. Emily sided strongly with Floride Calhoun, John C. Calhoun’s wife, and her followers, expressing distaste for the reportedly immoral Peggy. She did not see Peggy as suffering from the same attacks as her aunt Rachel; instead she used Rachel’s legacy as a pious Christian lady to claim that her aunt would have agreed with her own position. According to Allgor’s (2002) analysis of contemporary narratives, Emily snubbed Peggy at the inaugural ball, refusing to speak with her, just as did Floride Calhoun and a number of other Cabinet wives. Allgor states that snubbing Mrs. Eaton was neces­ sary for all the Washington women who relied on their social “whirl”—their ability to successfully climb the social ladder—for furthering the interests of their husbands and families. No wife with hopes for advancement in Washington’s social hier­ archy could be caught with a woman ostracized from the majority of social func­ tions (Allgor, 2002: 204). Despite her uncle’s protest and sympathy toward the Eatons, it is likely that Emily’s own refusal to socialize with his supporters was based on her understanding of how best to solidify the place of both the Jacksons and the Donelsons in Washington society. This

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division of the president’s Cabinet over the Eatons’ treatment in Washington signi­ fies that the Petticoat Affair had serious political underpinnings. Andrew Jackson was stalwart in his sympathy with the reviled Peggy, writing to her: “I [would] rather have live vermin on my back than the tongue of one of these Washington women on my reputation” (Allgor, 2002: 201). There are accounts of Margaret Eaton being called the “unofficial first lady” after Emily’s departure in 1830, although offi­ cially it was Mary Ann Lewis, a supporter of the Eatons, who was appointed to the official hostess post until Emily’s return in September of 1831. It was in that year that the Petticoat Affair was eventually settled, through the res­ ignation of John Eaton as secretary of war— along with that of Secretary of State Martin Van Buren, who had attempted to negotiate peace in the Cabinet during the controversy, and of almost every other member of the Cabinet. With a newly elected Cabinet and all the new Cabinet wives, Washington soci­ ety could again function normally. Emily went on to serve as White House hostess through Jackson’s reelection and until June 1836, when after many years of diminishing health she returned home to the Donelson’s Tulip Grove plantation (then called Poplar Grove), where she died of tuberculosis on December 19, 1836, just shy of thirty years old. Sarah Yorke Jackson: From Mistress of the Hermitage to White House Hostess Sarah Yorke Jackson, born in July 1805, in Philadelphia to a wealthy mercantile family, married Andrew Jackson’s adopted son, Andrew Jackson Junior, on November 24, 1831. Although President Jackson was unable to attend the couple’s wedding in Philadelphia, he threw multiple parties for his son and new daughter‐in‐law at the White House during the 1831–1832 seasons.

Newly elected President Jackson initially appointed Sarah mistress of the Hermitage upon Rachel’s death in 1828, ostensibly to prevent any rivalry from occurring between her and Emily Donelson. Sarah’s story is always closely tied to the Hermitage, where she not only served as mistress but also bore all five of her children. Her first child, born in November 1832, was named Rachel, after her deceased mother‐in‐law. Sarah became White House hostess for the remainder of Jackson’s term, after Emily Donelson’s departure from the White House in June, 1836, until Van Buren’s swearing in on March 4, 1837—less than ten months. Sarah’s reign as hostess proved to be uneventful, and little is written about her in the literature. The second and third volumes of Remini’s Life of Andrew Jackson (Remini, 1981, 1984) provide brief glimpses of Jackson’s affection for Sarah and her life at the White House. Rachel Jackson’s biogra­ pher Laura Holloway did correspond with Sarah while writing The Ladies of the White House in 1870. Sarah’s recollections give some insight into her perception of the events of the Jackson presidency, especially in relation to Rachel, her mother‐in‐law. At the time of Holloway’s interviews Sarah lived as a guest in the Hermitage, which had been willed to her husband after President Jackson’s death in 1845 but sold to the state of Tennessee in 1856, due to the family’s financial troubles. The state government allowed Sarah to reside there as a guest to the historic property until her death on August 23, 1887. Conclusion Her absence from the White House during President Jackson’s tenure leaves Rachel Jackson less analyzed than many other first ladies. The devastating loss of her personal papers and correspondence during the 1834 fire at the Hermitage silenced her story even further, leaving us to sift through other’s



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letters, stories, and remembrances to discover this first lady. Vivid stories of her as a sprightly young pioneer stand in sharp contrast to the ill, anxious old woman whom many saw at the Hermitage in 1828. The scandals and dirty politics that influenced this change are ripe for further study and analysis from the perspective of the woman who lived through them. Emily Donelson’s status as White House hostess leaves her often omitted from anthologies regarding the ladies of the White House, but new research into the Petticoat Affair casts increasing light on Emily’s life and the gendered power dynamics of Jacksonian Washington. Sarah Jackson Yorke is even less studied—perhaps more exciting stories of her time at the White House simply wait to be discovered. Emerging scholarship regarding life on the western frontier, women in early republican politics, and gender relations in the nine­ teenth century will continue to inform our understanding of these women. A growing interest in ephemera and material culture, together with increased access to the personal letters of Jackson and his contemporaries, will hopefully inspire more researchers to look closely at the life of these Jacksonian ladies and their impact on American history. As anomalies among first ladies—one, an elected president’s wife who never served as first lady; and two who hosted in the White House but remain somewhat obscure in their posts—the Jackson women serve to underline how the positions and back­ grounds of first ladies require an expansive understanding, which can stretch to include a broad and nuanced view of this role. Such an understanding will only enrich the evolving field of first lady scholarship. References Allgor, C. 2002. Parlor Politics: In Which the Ladies of Washington Help Build a City and a Government. Charlottesville: University of Virginia Press.

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Basch, N. 1993. “Marriage, Morals, and Politics in the Election of 1828.” The Journal of American History 80 (3): 890–918. Bassett, M. B. 1964. Profiles and Portraits of American Presidents and Their Wives. Freeport: B. Wheelwright Company. Boller, Jr, P. F. 1989. Presidential Wives: An Anecdotal History. New York: Oxford University Press. Brady, P. 2011. A Being So Gentle: The Frontier Love Story of Rachel and Andrew Jackson. New York: Palgrave Macmillan. Brooks, G. 1901. Dames and Daughters of  the Young Republic. New York: T. Y. Crowell. Burke, P. W. 2001. Emily Donelson of Tennessee, edited by J. M. Atkins. Knoxville: University of Tennessee Press. Cheathem, M. R. 2014. “Hannah, Andrew Jackson’s Slave.” Humanities 35 (2). http://www. neh.gov/humanities/2014/mar chapril/ featur e/hannah‐andr ew‐jacksons‐slave (accessed October 24, 2015). Harris, B. 2005. The First Lady Fact Book. New York: Black Dog & Leventhal. Hammond, C. 1828. Truth’s Advocate and Monthly Anti‐Jackson Expositor. Cincinnati, OH: Lodge, L’Hommedieu, and Hammond. Holloway, L. C. 1870. The Ladies of the White House. New York: United States Publishing. Hornsby, S. 1994. “The Protection of an Icon: Nashville, the Ladies Hermitage Association, and the Image of Rachel Jackson, 1915–1945.” Doctoral dissertation, Vanderbilt University, Nashville, Tennessee. Jackson, A., H. D. Moser, D. R. Hoth, and G. H. Hoemann, eds. 1996. The Papers of Andrew Jackson, vol. 5: 1821–1824. Knoxville: University of Tennessee Press. Marszalek, J. F. 2000. The Petticoat Affair: Manners, Mutiny, and Sex in Andrew Jackson’s White House. Baton Rouge: Louisiana State University Press. Minnigerode, M. 1926. Some American Ladies: Seven Informal Biographies. London: G. P. Putnam’s Sons. Parton, J. 1860. Life of Andrew Jackson, 3 vols. New York: Mason Brothers. Remini, R. V. 1977. Andrew Jackson: The Course of American Empire, 1767–1821, vol. 1. New York: Harper & Row.

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Remini, R. V. 1981. Andrew Jackson: The Course of American Freedom, 1822–1832, vol. 2. New York: Harper & Row. Remini, R. V. 1984. Andrew Jackson and the Course of American Democracy, 1822–1832, vol. 3. New York: Harper & Row. Sawyer, S. 2000. More than Petticoats: Remarkable Tennessee Women. Helena, MT: Falcon.

Schneider, D., and C. J. Schneider. 2010. First Ladies: A Biographical Dictionary. New York: Facts on File. Van Cleve, C. O. C. 1888. “Three Score Years and Ten”: Life‐Long Memories of Fort Snelling, Minnesota, and Other Parts of the West. Minneapolis: Harris & Smith.

Chapter Eight

Angelica Singleton Van Buren, First Lady for a Widower John F. Marszalek

Angelica Singleton became first lady to a president whom she had not even known when he had won the election in 1836. Yet she played a major role during his term at the White House—the “Executive Mansion”—and set numerous precedents for the women who followed her. Despite her importance during her lifetime, she has not been studied and is only marginally remembered now. Because of the dearth of material on her, it is probable that she will remain a shadowy figure in the future. She will always be tied to President Martin Van Buren, who is himself a historical enigma and is far from being properly known. Van Buren’s biographers—Edward L. Widmer (2005); Donald Cole (1984); John Niven (1983); Leonard L. Richards, Marla R. Miller, and Erik Gilg (2006); and Major L. Wilson (1984)—say relatively little about her, and she lacks a full‐scale biography. It is unfortunate that there is so little material on her, because her life in the White House left a lasting legacy. When he became president, Martin Van Buren had been a widower for eighteen years. His deceased wife, Hannah Hoes, the daughter of fellow Dutch neighbors, had grown up with him in Kinderhook, New

York. The families were in fact so close that Van Buren’s mother and father served as the young Hannah’s baptismal sponsors in the local Dutch Reformed Church; Hannah and Martin were actually first cousins once removed. They married in 1807, when she was twenty‐four and he twenty‐five (Field, 1999). Considering that Kinderhook was a small community, eligible young people were scarce, so marriage to a first cousin was not all that rare (C‐SPAN, 2014). The Van Buren–Hoes nuptials produced five offspring (one died young). Throughout their marriage the couple lived in the nearby towns of Hudson and Albany, as Van Buren rose in importance in the local legal and political professions. Hannah Van Buren always remained in the background, fulfilling the part of a traditional wife and playing important roles in various Presbyterian churches. The New York State politician Benjamin Butler lived with the family briefly and left us a description of Hannah’s withdrawn nature: she was “a woman of sweet nature but few intellectual gifts.” She had “no love or show … no ambitious desires, no pride of ostentation” (National First Ladies Library, 2015; Anthony, 1990: 116).

A Companion to First Ladies, First Edition. Edited by Katherine A. S. Sibley. © 2016 John Wiley & Sons, Inc. Published 2016 by John Wiley & Sons, Inc.

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But tragedy struck during their time in Albany. Hannah became bedridden with tuberculosis. Her children could only see her briefly; they would give her a kiss of affection, then leave her in her bed. She died on February 5, 1819 (National First Ladies Library, 2014). Van Buren became a widower with four young boys to rear, while simultaneously trying to make a success of his career. Little more is known of Hannah Hoes Van Buren. Her husband never mentioned her in  his later political autobiography, and she appears only on the rarest occasions in any conversations with his sons or with other people (Field, 1999). Yet he always kept a picture of her with him (C‐SPAN, 2014). Van Buren took his single‐parent role seriously even as he rose to the office of vice president, then president of the United States. He watched over his sons no matter how busy he might have been. Yet most people saw him as a cynical, hard‐driving politician, and he did hold a variety of offices. In 1812 he was elected to serve two terms in the New York State Senate; he also served as the state’s attorney general during that period and, in the process, he became a major political figure. In 1821 he was elected to the United States Senate but in 1828 gave up that seat in order to run for New York governorship, which he did successfully. Throughout these years he had his young family to raise. After his wife’s death, Martin Van Buren developed a serious relationship with only one woman, Margaret Sylvester from Kinderhook. He liked women, to be sure, and he loved flirting with them. They were also drawn to him (Cole, 1984: 190). He was an appealing companion and, as a result, he received invitations to important social gatherings and learned all of the latest gossip, wherever he was. But he never found anyone else to marry. Yet it was a woman who played a major role in his becoming president. During Andrew Jackson’s first term in the Executive

Mansion from 1829 to 1833, Van Buren served as secretary of state. Since he was a widower, he was free to associate with the wives of other Cabinet members, including the infamous wife of John Henry Eaton, the secretary of war. Other Cabinet wives and Washington society in general refused to have anything to do with Margaret Eaton, considering her immoral because of her forward manners and her flouting of feminine mores. President Andrew Jackson (“Old Hickory”) took her side, identifying her with his own deceased wife, Rachel, who had suffered similar accusations of improper behavior. The widower Van Buren supported Jackson’s position while John C. Calhoun, the married vice president, could not, and the result was Calhoun’s losing his spot on the 1832 reelection slate. Van Buren ran for vice president on the Jackson ticket and rode Old Hickory’s coattails to victory. In the 1836 election, four years later, Van Buren gained the Democratic Party’s endorsement and succeeded Jackson as president of the United States (Marszalek, 2000). The advantage that Van Buren enjoyed while he was in Jackson’s Cabinet—that of being a widower—became a liability during his own presidency. He had no one to organize the domestic side of his affairs at the White House, to act as what would later be called the president’s first lady. His four unmarried sons were certainly not suited to the task, and the 1837 Panic made entertaining seem heartless and out of place. The Executive Mansion was thus a dour residence, although society had expected a great deal more when Van Buren won election, on account of his reputation for a vibrant social life (Halloway, 1886, 1: 561). Thus the usually outgoing president, after holding a huge Inauguration Day reception (Niven, 1983: 411), became unusually withdrawn. He limited his socializing, using guards and invitation lists to keep the number of his guests down. Large social events were replaced by more intimate



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dinner parties with politicians (Wilson, 1984: 24). Van Buren was always careful to include anyone he thought might be helpful to him, whether that person be a Democrat or a Whig. But the gatherings lacked a woman’s touch, and society was disappointed. One woman complained at this time that “the present incumbent has no female relations to preside, and seems to be so much absorbed in party politics that he will scarcely open the house to those who want to see it” (Holloway, 1886, 1: 562–563). But then a key figure in American presidential history made another appearance and helped change things in the White House. James Madison had died in 1836 and his widow, the fabled Dolley, moved back to Washington from their mansion in Virginia. She purchased a small home in Lafayette Square, near the White House, and once again became an important figure in Washington social life, attending small dinners at the White House, for example (Holloway, 1886, 1: 565). Soon after she received a visit from a cousin in South Carolina, Angelica Singleton, and took her to the Executive Mansion, where the widowed president was hosting a small dinner. At this March 1838 function Angelica Singleton met a few Washingtonians, including Abraham Van Buren, one of the president’s four unmarried sons and his private secretary. Angelica’s full name was Sarah Angelica Singleton, but she rarely used her first name. She was born on February 13, 1818 in Wedgefield, South Carolina. Her grandfathers had both served in the American Revolution (Holloway, 1886, 1: 566). Richard Singleton, her father, was a wealthy cotton planter, and Rebecca Travis Coles Singleton, her mother, was related to Dolley Madison and, through a sister, to Andrew Stevenson—Speaker of the US House of Representatives and, later, American minister to Great Britain. Angelica grew up on a large plantation.

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In 1852, when Richard Singleton died as a result of a railroad trestle collapsing under his train, his will showed that he owned two thousand acres of land plus slaves, most of this land having been purchased from Wade Hampton, the later confederate general. He was wealthy enough to have a one‐mile‐ long racetrack close to his house (“Home” or “Home Place” as he called it). Singleton was widely known as a successful horse breeder, as he mated his mares with nationally famous stallions (Singleton Family Papers, 1759–1905, 2008). Thanks to the family’s wealth, Angelica and her four siblings were the beneficiaries of an excellent education. For example, Angelica and her sister Marion spent four years (1826–1830) in the Columbia, SC Female Academy, a predominantly Jewish school that exposed Angelica to a different culture. She then studied at the expensive elite Madame Grelaud’s Seminary (or Madame Grelaud’s French School) for young ladies in Philadelphia, the nation’s leading city at the time (1831–1836). Angelica—or Angélique, as she sometimes called herself—joined a long line of “daughters” from the nation’s elite families who studied there—women like James Monroe’s daughter and, later on, Varina Davis, wife of Jefferson Davis, the confederate leader. Not only did they learn the usual basics taught to nineteenth‐century women, but they also studied the humanities and the sciences, which were to prepare them for the tasks of educating future leaders of the republic (Richards et al., 2006: 42). They enjoyed social events outside the school, the idea being, again, to prepare them to wed other societal stalwarts. Philadelphia had a large number of French families, so it was a natural magnet for young southern belles who wished to be educated in proper French culture. Sometime in her life, probably in Philadelphia, Angelica learned to play the harp (Bowie, 1944; Clinton, 1982; Richards et al., 2006: 41; Kohan, 1986: 113). While at the French school, Angelica gained the title “Queen of the May”

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through student vote. Her attractiveness was noted, but her family’s riches were not ignored either. Her English teacher composed a lyric that expressed it all: Queen Angélique … is not so weak … As some folks please to think … Men don’t wed girls … For eyes or curls … But court them for their Cash. (Angela Singleton’s Autograph Album, 2013)

In Philadelphia, Angelica also became a woman who loved clothes. Her letters home were filled with references to clothing of all kinds. On the other hand, letters from her parents sent to her and her sister gave advice on proper behavior. The two young women, it seemed, “would need both discipline and fortitude to fill the contradictory demands of a wife and a slave mistress” (Edwards, 2000: 18). Following the tradition set for students at Madame Grelaud’s School, Angelica Singleton and her sister spent a social season (1836–1837) in Richmond with their mother’s sister, the wife of politician Andrew Stevenson. Here Angelica made her début in society and attended social events where, despite her wealth, her charitable side was well submerged. For example, she went to a fair for parentless children and groused about having to spend her money on purchases she found ugly. At that time she felt no sense of obligation to the poor—she went to the fair only to please her aunt (Edwards, 2000: 18, 27). In 1837–1838 Angelica lived in Washington, DC with her mother’s cousins, with Senator William Campbell Preston, and then with Dolley Madison. As it happened, the former first lady, a second cousin once removed, took the young débutante and her sister Marion to Martin Van Buren’s Executive Mansion by way of making them noticed in society in the nation’s capital; and this is how the two girls met the Van Buren sons. President Van Buren’s four sons were all unmarried and thus available, but Dolley

Madison apparently had not chosen any particular ones for Angelica and Marion. Earlier on she had been disappointed that her niece Dolley Cutts had not been attracted to the oldest son (Arnett, 1972: 338), so she might have been trying to play matchmaker again. The Van Buren sons were all different. The oldest, Abraham, was thirty years old, a West Point graduate, and his father’s private secretary and military advisor. President Van Buren could always depend on him for “sound advice” (Niven, 1983: 366). John was three years younger than Abraham and had a reputation for high living and political skill. Martin was twenty‐five years old, the quietest of the four and not in good health, seemingly content to care for his father’s papers and help him write a book some day. Smith was twenty years old and a law student (Anthony, 2000: 97). Angelica was then twenty‐one years of age. A Georgia senator had already courted Angelica, but he was taken aback and expressed amazement at Angelica’s dress being “draped so indecently low” (Anthony, 2000: 316). She clearly was not attracted to him; but the oldest Van Buren son was another matter. She and Abraham fell in love, he apparently not shocked at her dress. They were married on November 27, 1838 at her home in South Carolina. The president was unable to attend but was pleased at the union. He had always been politically interested in fostering northern and southern cooperation, particularly because of his political feud with the South Carolinian John C. Calhoun, so the marriage of Abraham and Angelica served him well politically. Marion Singleton said that the sons were “pleasant, unpretentious, unpretending, civil, amiable young men” (Anthony, 2000: 116). She was attracted to Martin Van Buren Junior, but the sickly son was not interested (Niven, 1983: 479). A beautiful woman, Angelica had the abilities to be both an ornament and an intellectual support for her husband and,



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even more importantly, for her presidential father‐in‐law. Her beauty was striking. A contemporary described her as a “lovely charming belle with Roman Goddess features, dark, expressive eyes, fashionable corkscrew curls and a long neck” (quoted in MacLean, 2013). This beauty is clearly evident in a famous portrait by Henry Inman which, in the twenty first century, still hangs in the White House, in the Red Room above the mantle, the 1890 gift of Angelica and Abraham’s son Travis (MacLean, 2013; Kohan, 1986: 178). The beautiful Angelica, wearing the dress in which she was presented to Queen Victoria (C‐SPAN, 2014), dominates the portrait—which also includes, by her side and slightly behind her, a bust of Martin Van Buren. The painter clearly links the two figures together; he does not slight the president, but Angelica is the main attraction (The White House Historical Association, n.d.). There is also a sculpture of Angelica based on this Inman portrait, which is displayed in the National Presidential Wax Museum in Keystone, North Dakota; and there are several photographs of her in the Library of Congress. To all appearances, Angelica and Abraham were very much in love and the public, like the president, seemed pleased and excited about the union of a northern man and a southern woman. After the wedding the young couple spent only a few days in her South Carolina home before traveling to Washington, DC. They made Abraham’s suite in Van Buren’s Executive Mansion their home. The 1838–1839 social season in Washington was just beginning when the young couple moved into the White House. Angelica made a swift impression on the capital. Martin Van Buren escorted her to White House social events and situated her next to him, in the place usually reserved for the president’s wife. On January 1, 1839, as Henry Clay and other luminaries were present at the important New Year’s reception (Lynch, 1929: 469), she became in fact the

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first lady—the youngest woman ever to hold that position. Watching her carefully, a New England newspaper reporter said that she was “free and vivacious in her conversation” and “universally admired” by all who saw her (quoted in Holloway, 1886, 1: 567). She went on to host proper teas and extravagant balls, and the ladies of the Washington social set were quickly impressed and found her appropriate to her position. She wrote to her sister that the Executive Mansion was a “bustling place” and her days were busy with “high bred, civil belles and proper and agreeable beaux—mature, foreign, and migrant” (quoted in Anthony, 1990: 116). A reporter noted that, because of her presence, the “Executive Mansion was a place of much more than usual attraction” (quoted in Arnett, 1972: 338). Significantly, she had the advantage of receiving sage advice from Dolley Madison. There is no definitive evidence of Madison’s role, but a letter has survived from the spring of 1839 in which Angelica asks Madison for advice “on a very important matter” (National First Ladies Library, 2015). Angelica was most appreciative of the relationship, frequently sending Dolley choice fruits from her South Carolina home (Arnett, 1972: 338). While Angelica Singleton Van Buren was playing the role of first lady, she was also planning a delayed honeymoon trip to England and France. As might be expected, she purchased proper clothing for the journey; but she also acquired books for reading on the ocean voyage and during the visit. She brought with her James Fenimore Cooper’s 1837 book Gleanings in Europe, a collection of fictional letters from an author traveling through Europe to his friends in the United States. She also took with her books about European monarchs and nobility and several of Robert Burns’s writings on Scottish nationalism, which resonated with her as a southerner (National First Ladies Library, 2015). She may very well have also included other books in her traveling trunks,

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books she saved from her school days on literature, phrenology, and poetry. In later life she acquired biographies, memoirs, fiction, and charitable writings. To all appearances, she remained a voracious reader. When the social season ended in the spring of 1839, before the arrival of the capital’s torrid heat and humidity, Angelica and Abraham took their honeymoon tour. They visited Angelica’s uncle, Andrew Stevenson, the United States minister to Great Britain. While she was there, Stevenson presented her, dressed in a stunning white gown made in London, to the recently crowned Queen Victoria. In France, Angelica and Abraham met King Louis Philippe, who received them as American royalty, with full honors. President Andrew Jackson had appointed Angelica’s uncle, Andrew Stevenson, to represent America’s interests in England. Unfortunately Stevenson became a center of controversy instead. Irish political leader Daniel O’Connell openly called him not merely a slave owner, but also a “slave breeder.” The United States minister became so angry at this slur that he challenged the Irish politician to a duel, which O’Connell flatly refused. Thus Stevenson was a diplomatic liability in England at a time when abolitionist feelings were growing ever stronger. Van Buren did not recall him, however, no doubt because of Stevenson’s relationship to his new daughter‐in‐law. There is no record that Angelica ever commented on this controversy, but it must have been painful (Geoghegan, 2010). More dangerous to Angelica’s and the president’s standing in the United States in an age in which Jacksonian democratic attitudes continued to resonate throughout the nation were the young woman’s aristocratic leanings. Angelica was clearly impressed with what she saw at the courts of England and France, and, with her southern elite background, her upscale schooling in Philadelphia, and her exposure to class‐conscious Washington society, she soon developed an elitist attitude in her role as first

lady in the Executive Mansion. Her attitude grew so evident while she was still in England that her aunt Sally Stevenson worried about her: “[I pity] the unfortunate being whose duty or necessity it may be to give the rousing shake … to awaken” Angelica from “such dreams,” she wrote home (National First Ladies Library, 2015). Once Angelica and Abraham completed their European tour and reached Washington, they returned to their suite in the Executive Mansion and she returned to her post as Martin Van Buren’s first lady. Her heightened aristocratic feelings became evident quickly and embarrassingly. At the New Year’s Day reception in 1840, Angelica introduced a new form of receiving line. Instead of greeting each person individually as the line moved on, she adopted the European court practice of a tableaux approach, which she had seen Queen Victoria employ. Angelica had a platform set up in the newly named Blue Room (C‐ SPAN, 2014), just behind the moving line. There she sat, holding flowers, with other females attired in white standing all around her (Widmer, 2005: 126), each wearing three ostrich feathers (Anthony, 1990: 118). She acknowledged the visitors rather than shaking hands with each one of them. The whole event smacked of royalty, which it was of course trying to emulate. Americans found it unseemly. Angelica took a great deal of criticism, and she never did it again. The damage was done, however. Such aristocratic displays could not be tolerated in a democracy, so Angelica and her president became the butt of ridicule and the scene was part of the election year’s debate in 1840. Still, not everyone was critical. The French minister to the United States, Adolphe Fourier Bacourt, found her unlike most American women. “In any country,” he said, she would “pass for an amiable woman of graceful and distinguished manners and appearance” (National First Ladies Library, 2015). Himself an individual who came



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from a monarchical nation, Bacourt saw nothing wrong with Angelica’s tableaux. Something else complicated matters even more. Angelica became pregnant. The nineteenth century expected women in that condition to stay out of the public eye, and Angelica was not seen in public much after the New Year’s Day reception. She gave birth to a daughter, Rebecca, on March 27, 1840—close to the end of the 1839–1840 social season. Sadly the child lived only a short time. Angelica became pregnant again in October 1840, and once more her condition limited her public appearances during the shortened December 1840 to March 1841 Washington social season. Angelica’s role as first lady was obviously limited by her pregnancies, but she did contribute to the 1840 presidential campaign between Democrat Martin Van Buren and Whig William Henry Harrison. The Democratic Party of Andrew Jackson and Martin Van Buren had labeled itself the organ of the common man, while the Whig Party of Henry Clay was considered the organ of the elite. Seeing how effectively this had worked against them and in favor of the Democrats, the Whigs donned the Jacksonian mantle in the election of 1840. They trumpeted their candidate, William Henry Harrison, as the common man’s candidate, a rangy 5‐foot, 8‐inch masculine model of military achievement, born in a log cabin and a drinker of hard cider, while Van Buren was a 5‐foot, 6‐inch aristocratic dandy. Angelica’s tableaux contributed to this perception. At every chance, the Whigs attacked Van Buren in this manner, completely reframing the Jacksonian political philosophy so as to make it sound Whiggish and hiding the fact that Harrison had been born on a stately plantation house in Virginia while Van Buren was the offspring of a Hudson River Valley tavern keeper. United States Representative Charles Ogle gave a speech in Congress that ­exemplified this Whig campaign and took the nation by storm. An unimportant congressman from

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Pennsylvania serving his first term as a Whig in the Twenty‐seventh Congress after two terms spent as an anti‐Masonic representative, Ogle gave one of the most famous political speeches in American history, which is variously called the “Gold Spoon” oration or “The Regal Splendor of the Presidential Palace.” This address, given over three days, was part of a congressional discussion about amending a bill so as to provide the Executive Mansion with $3,665 for furniture repair and landscaping. Van Buren had made some little noticed plumbing and heating renovations before he first entered the Executive Mansion (Widmer, 2005: 127) and previous presidents, particularly Andrew Jackson, had purchased objects for the Executive Mansion (Allman, 2002). But Ogle blamed the expenses on Van Buren. Ogle’s speech teemed with brutal attacks on “sweet sandy whiskers,” as the opposition labeled Van Buren. It also attacked Van Buren’s son, “Prince John” (Anthony, 2000: 323; Field, 1999), and ridiculed Angelica’s tenure as first lady. After all, it was her idea to improve the site’s landscaping. References to her in Ogle’s speech are subtle, if that is the appropriate word; nonetheless they are obvious, flaying her European tour and her aristocratic ideas— such as the new receiving line on the platform. Van Buren’s impeccable mode of dress, the impressive way he carried himself, and his expression of other refinements only added to the furor. Ogle primarily attacked Van Buren, but Angelica was not excluded. Throughout his speech, he castigated Van Buren by name for his European attitudes; but, considering Angelica’s recent trip with her husband and her aristocratic manners, she was clearly at fault, too, in Ogle’s eyes (Seale, 2002: 10). He talked about “the magnificent splendor” in what he called Van Buren’s “Palace,” and “the pompous ceremonials that ‘hold sway’ at his republican court.” Ogle was even more critical of the “palace” landscaping, as grand, he said, as those of

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“many of the royal capitals of Europe.” Clearly alluding to a woman’s influence, he insisted that “clever sized hills” were being formed on the lawn, “every pair of which … was designed to resemble … an Amazon’s bosom, with a miniature knoll or hillock on its apex, to denote the n‐pple.” At White House dinners, Ogle went on, the table was set “in massive gold plate and French sterling silver services.” Reminding his listeners of Angelica’s platform during the January 1 reception, he said that money was also being spent “in the erection of a throne within the “Blue Elliptical Saloon” (Gunderson, 1957: 101–107). Adding to the power of this speech was the fact that the nation continued to suffer from the effects of the 1837 Panic. A further story was told, denied by the alleged speaker but insisted on as true by Charles Ogle, that, when Whig congressman Landall Watson Andrews attended a White House dinner, he allegedly took a gold spoon from the table and said to the president: “Mr. Van Buren, if you will let me take this spoon to Kentucky and show it to my constituents, I will promise not to make use of any argument against you; this will be enough” (Seale, 2002: 10). But this was not the end of it. The Whig campaign against Van Buren was relentless; more and more, the president was inaccurately labeled an elitist while Harrison was portrayed as the common man. The chants and songs seemed determined to outdo each other. For example: Let Van from his coolers of silver drink wine, And lounge on his cushioned setee, Our man on a buckeye bench can recline, Content with hard cider is he. (Gunderson, 1957: 107)

The campaign worked; Van Buren was not reelected. He completed his term, welcomed Harrison to the White House, and began planning to leave Washington. Angelica did not play a major role in these

last days because she was once again expecting a child. Van Buren went back to Kinderhook, to his home, and Angelica and Abraham traveled to her family home in South Carolina. There she delivered a son on June 22, 1841, the first of three sons who grew to maturity. Appropriately, considering the baby’s birth site, his name was Singleton. In the fall of 1841 Angelica, Abraham, and Singleton joined Van Buren at Lindenwald (now the Martin Van Buren National Historic Site). Before Angelica assumed officially the role she had already performed in Washington—that of first lady—she had to prepare for her new position as director of all domestic requirements at Lindenwald. Previously President Van Buren had depended on a local woman friend for advice on decorating (Richards et al., 2006: 37–38); but now, after he left the Executive Mansion, Angelica took control. Because as a southern belle she had little experience in coordinating domestic life (Edwards, 2000: 21), she did not feel completely confident about her expanded role. She wrote to her mother in December 1840, even before leaving the White House, asking for advice on how to keep Lindenwald’s kitchen adequately stocked with basic necessities and telling her to forward the “[r]ecipe book copied in full & all your little stray recipes which you know to be good” (Kohan, 1986: 12). Angelica was going to assume her new role with as much material knowledge as she could gain. One of the first decisions that had to be made at Lindenwald was to plan which spacious rooms the various inhabitants of the house would use as their bedrooms. It is unclear whether the former president or Angelica assigned the rooms. Abraham and Angelica’s room was on the second floor, in the northeast corner. Van Buren’s room was nearby on the same floor, as was Prince John’s room when he visited. Next to the former president’s room was that of Martin Junior, the sickly son. Smith



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Thompson Van Buren—the other bachelor son, not to be married until 1842—had his room on the first floor, near the ever busy nursery. On that first floor were also a sitting room, a drawing room, a breakfast room, a dining room, a water closet, a guest bedroom, and the room Van Buren used the most: the library (Kohan, 1986: 217–218). Many Americans believed that Lindenwald was Van Buren’s retirement home, but it actually served as the center of his political operation. He continued to have presidential ambitions and to plan his political future. Meanwhile, Angelica looked after the house and its Irish immigrant work force. As the former president drifted more and more toward an antislavery political position, something he had not exhibited before, he became a leader in the new Free Soil Party. Angelica, a daughter of the South, kept her politics to herself, although she must have had to bite her tongue during more than one dinner‐table conversation, when political discussions took place. Her very presence, however— that of a southern belle raised in the slave‐ holding South—could not have hurt Van Buren’s political position below the Mason‐ Dixon line (Richards et al., 2006: 96–98). Indeed Angelica continued to frequently visit South Carolina. As she had in Washington, Angelica ran an efficient operation in Kinderhook. At Lindenwald, with the help of servants, she had to take care of her husband, her child, the former president, a sickly brother‐in‐law with tuberculosis, another brother‐in‐law, Prince John, children born to her in 1844 and 1848 and one who died soon after birth in 1843, a niece of teenage years, and the Irish staff. Her niece, Mary McDuffie, proved to be both a help and a child whom Angelica and the former president grew close to (National First Ladies’ Library, 2015; Richards et al., 2006: 79). But Angelica had problems with her oldest son, Singleton. He failed at the United States

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Military Academy and had to drop out in the 1850s. Angelica took this failure very hard, and the former president had to try to calm her and point to lessons to be learned from such an experience (Richards et al., 2006: 127). Life at Lindenwald naturally centered on the former president. In addition to political planning, he wanted to be a successful farmer on his two‐hundred‐acre farm. Each day he woke up early and took a horseback ride on his estate and into the small town. Upon return he ate a full breakfast, which Angelica supervised whenever she was there. He then worked briefly on matters relating to farming his land and finally went into his library, which was full of legal and other books, and there he maintained a correspondence with political leaders all over the nation. On Sundays he attended the local Dutch Reformed Church (Cole, 1984: 182–183). Even though Angelica made sure that the estate ran efficiently, rumors spread that things were not going well. James Kirke Paulding, a close friend of the president’s, wrote to Van Buren that he felt sorry for the  former president because, despite his “[b]raggadocia [sic] about your Home Department … Such a spirit of insubordination” existed in his house that Angelica had to return early from a trip “in order to put matters to rights.” Van Buren refused to agree, blaming Angelica for speaking to a Paulding relative in a “grossly slanderous manner … which I have no doubt [was] listened to with great delight.” His servants, Van Buren said, were all “bright and shiny lights. … This calumny is an offspring of Female Jealousy and vanity, for these women as you once said are never so happy as when they see a man thwarted in his commendable attempts to get along without them” (all quoted in Alderman, 1962: 427–430). Van Buren was briefly unhappy with Angelica, but most of the time he was content at Lindenwald and pleased with his daughter‐in‐law.

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In the summer of 1842 Angelica and Abraham made their annual summer trip to South Carolina, and Van Buren toured the South and the West on what was clearly a political trip. He did visit Angelica and her family in South Carolina, both a personal and political venture, and he also stopped in other parts of South Carolina, Georgia, Maryland, Pennsylvania, and Kentucky. He made a first‐time visit to Andrew Jackson at his Hermitage and to James K. Polk in Columbia, Tennessee (Cole, 1984: 384–385). As such visits suggest, Van Buren’s ambitions remained strong, and he ran again for president in 1844; but he and his wing of the Democratic Party lost to Polk. Early into the new administration, the United States went to war against Mexico. Van Buren opposed the war, but Angelica’s husband Abraham, a West Point graduate and a veteran, returned to the army as a paymaster. A major, he fought with Winfield Scott from the US army’s landing at Vera Cruz to the capture of Mexico City, gaining the brevet rank of lieutenant colonel for bravery in action. He suffered a leg injury in one battle (Kohan, 1986: 20). He also participated with Nicholas Trist in the early phases of that diplomat’s complicated negotiations of the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo. After the war Abraham remained in the army until 1854, the decision to retire leading him, Angelica, and their family to leave Lindenwald and stop their summer visits to South Carolina. They moved permanently to New York City, where they lived at 46 East 21st Street (National First Ladies Library, 2015; Richards et al., 2006: 82–83). The former president lost Angelica’s services, but she was a social success in New York (Holloway, 1886, 1: 57). Having her husband fight in a war that her father‐in‐law disapproved of could not have been easy for Angelica, nor was it easy for the southern girl to move to a northern city like New York. There was a southern

contingent in that city, however, and she adjusted, no doubt helped by the long time she had spent in Philadelphia and Washington. The continuation of her interests in travel was demonstrated by the fact that, in the fall of 1854, when Abraham retired from the army, he and Angelica, their sons Singleton and Travis, and her niece Mary McDuffie made an extended tour of Europe, visiting England, Scotland, France, Switzerland, Germany, Italy, and Spain. They were gone for two years, and here Angelica probably gained knowledge of people whose lives were not as privileged as hers was. Unlike in her earlier outlook as a débutante, she was interested this time in social problems. Industrialism was booming during this period, and so were reforms that attempted to help downtrodden workers. Angelica’s reading included inquiry into such reform movements, and she may have noticed in Europe examples that applied to the situation in the United States (National First Ladies Library, 2015). Evidence also points to Angelica’s playing an important role later on in the social reform life of New York City. In those days women participated in religion and charity, and apparently she did this too. It is doubtful that she had anything to do with the radical New York Female Moral Reform Society, but she was frequently considered to be a religious leader. There is no definitive evidence either way, although the inclusion of books on religion in her personal library demonstrates that, at the very least, she had some interest in the subject. The existence of many more books on travel and literature, however, indicate that religion occupied only a small place in her thoughts (Richards et al., 2006: 83). A personal experience forced Angelica to come face to face with the need for reform in American society. She had remained close to her sister and had watched in horror when Marion’s second marriage turned into



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a living nightmare. Robert Deveaux, Marion’s first husband, died, and she married Augustus L. Converse, the minister who had officiated at her first nuptials and also at those of Angelica and Abraham. South Carolina law stated that the husband gained control of his wife’s property upon marriage, and so did Converse. However, he turned out to be an abuser and to beat Marion so fiercely that she finally had to escape with the help of a slave, in order to save her own life. She appealed in court for the return of her property, but South Carolina lower and higher courts each ruled against her on the basis of the existing law, which gave all property and power to the husband (Edwards, 2000: 15). Angelica took Marion in for a time but, despite her determination to change the law and her many contacts at the federal level, she was not able to get anything done. States’ rights were too entrenched. It must have been difficult for Angelica—a southern belle such as she was, and one steeped in the traditional role for women— to go against her background and training in order to try to help her sister. The Civil War must have been hard on her too. A South Carolinian by birth and inclination but a long‐time resident in the North and a wife whose presidential father‐in‐law and army officer husband were Unionists, Angelica likely found the eruption of the Civil War to be an extremely difficult episode. She kept her thoughts to herself, however, and the only indication of her feelings seems to have been her gathering funds to purchase blankets for Confederate prisoners of war at the Elmira Prison in New York. Apparently, though, she aided prisoners of war on both sides, so her non‐political stance remained intact. Martin Van Buren died in 1862, his will written so as to be as fair as possible to all his sons (Kohan, 1986: Appendix A) and their families. From the time of his retirement from the army in the 1850s, Abraham

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worked on his father’s presidential papers. He lived until 1873 and his death was a shattering event for Angelica. Adding to her woe, her niece Mary died the following year; and, given the earlier deaths of her parents and brothers, Angelica grew increasingly alone. She inherited the Home Place in South Carolina and gained some funds from the agricultural production there, but never went to the South again. She died on December 29, 1878 in New York City, a southern belle who had become a resident in the North and would be buried next to her husband in Woodlawn Cemetery, Bronx, New York. Angelica Singleton Van Buren played an important role in nineteenth‐century American life. Her support of her father‐in‐ law as president before, during, and after his time in the Executive Mansion was notable. According to Donald Cole, a leading biographer of Martin Van Buren, “Angelica had just the sort of aristocratic background that Martin Van Buren could appreciate. The marriage strengthened Van Buren’s ties with the [politically powerful] Richmond Junto, the Old Republican party, and the Old South” (Cole, 1984: 346). She was the youngest first lady in American history. In later years she downplayed her role. “Beyond receiving and paying visits I had no onerous duties … [besides] always assist[ing] the president … my duties have been those of a social rather than semi‐official nature” (quoted in Halloway, 1886, 1: 578). Despite her reticence to take a public stance, she exerted a major influence on her times. Still, few Americans remembered her after she left Washington, and even fewer Americans remember her today. In 2007 Laura Bush, then the first lady of the United States, was leading a tour of the White House and pointed to the portrait of Angelica that still hangs there. Laura Bush identified her not as Angelica Van Buren, but as modern actress Angelica Huston (American Presidents’ Blog, 2007).

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References Alderman, R. M., ed. 1962. The Letters of James Kirke Paulding. Madison: University of Wisconsin Press. Allman, W. G. 2002. “Those Princely Objects in Charles Ogle’s Speech.” White House History: Journal of the White House Historical Association 10: 22–31. American Presidents’ Blog. 2007. “Angelica Van Buren.” http://www.american‐presidents. org/2007/04/angelica‐van‐buren.html (accessed December 19, 2014). Angela Singleton’s Autograph Album. 2013. In Angelica Singleton Van Buren, 1817–1877. Archived Online Exhibit.  Thomas Cooper Library, University of South Carolina. http:// library.sc.edu/file/1581 (accessed May 25, 2015). Anthony, C. S. 1990. First Ladies: The Saga of the Presidents’ Wives and Their Power. New York: William Morrow. Anthony, C. S. 2000. America’s First Families. New York: Touchstone. Arnett, E. S. 1972. Mrs. James Madison, The Incomparable Dolley. Greensboro, NC: Piedmont Press. Bowie, L. L. 1944. “Madame Grelaud’s French School.” Maryland Historical Magazine 39: 144–148. Clinton, C. 1982. Equality their Due: The Education of the Planter Daughter in the Early Republic. Journal of the Early Republic 2: 39–60. Cole, D. B. 1984. Martin Van Buren and the American Political System. Princeton: Princeton University Press. C‐SPAN. 2014. “Rachel Jackson, Emily Donelson, and Angelica Singleton Van Buren.” Video.  http://www.c‐spanvideo. org/program/EmilyD (accessed December 17, 2014). Edwards, L. F. 2000. Scarlett Doesn’t live Here Anymore: Southern Women in the Civil War Era. Urbana: University of Illinois Press. Field, P. 1999. “Van Buren, Hannah Hoes.” In American National Biography, edited by J. A. Garraty and M. C. Carnes, 157–158. New York: Oxford University Press. Geoghegan, P. M. 2010. Liberator: The Life and Death of Daniel O’Connell, 1830–1847. Dublin: Gill & Macmillan.

Gunderson, R. 1957. The Log Cabin Campaign. Lexington: University of Kentucky Press. Holloway, L. C. 1886. Ladies of the White House, 2 vols. New York: Franks and Wagnalls. Kohan, C. E. 1986. Historic Furnishings Report for “Lindenwald” Martin Van Buren National Historic Site. Boston: National Park Service. Lynch, D. T. 1929. An Epoch and a Man. New York: Liveright. MacLean, M. 2013. “Angelica Van Buren.” History of American Women: Angelica Van Buren. Womenhistoryblog.com, November 13. http://www.womenhistoryblog.com/search/ label/First%20Ladies (accessed December 15, 2014). Marszalek, J. F. 2000. The Petticoat Affair: Manners, Mutiny, and Sex in Andrew Jackson’s White House. New York: Free Press. National First Ladies Library, 2014. “National First Ladies’ Library Timeline, 1783–1819.” http:// www.firstladies.org/time‐line/timeline. aspx?beginning=1783&ending=1819 (accessed December 17, 2014). National First Ladies Library, 2015. “First Lady Biography: Hannah Van Buren.” http:// www.firstladies.org/biographies/firstladies. aspx?biography=8 (accessed November 18, 2015). Niven, J. 1983. Martin Van Buren: The Romantic Age of American Politics. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Richards, L. L, M. R. Miller, and E. Gilg. 2006. A Return to His Native Town: Martin Van Buren’s Life at Lindenwald, 1839–1862. Boston: National Park Service. Seale, W. 2002. “About the Gold Spoon Oration.” White House History: Journal of the White House Historical Association 10: 5–11. Singleton Family Papers, 1759–1905. 2008. University of North Carolina. http://www2. lib.unc.edu/mss/inv/s/Singleton_Family. html (accessed December 15, 2014). Widmer, E. L. 2005. Martin Van Buren. The American Presidents Series. New York: Times Books. Wilson, M. L. 1984. The Presidency of Martin Van Buren. Lawrence: University Press of Kansas. The White House Historical Association. n.d. Website. http://whitehousehistory.org (accessed December 15, 2014).



a n g e l i c a s i n g l e t o n va n b u r e n , f i r s t   l a d y   f o r a w i d o w e r

Further Reading Geni.com. 2014. “Angelica Van Buren (Singleton).” http://www.geni.com/people/ Angelica‐Van‐Buren/60000000094127 (accessed December 15, 2014).

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Presidential Power.org. n.d. “Facts about Angelica Van Buren.” http://www. p­r esidential‐power.org/us‐first‐ladies/­ angelica‐van‐buren.htm (accessed December 15, 2014).

Chapter Nine

The Ladies of Tippecanoe, and Tyler Too Christopher J. Leahy and Sharon Williams Leahy

The wives of William Henry Harrison and John Tyler each occupy a unique place in the history of American first ladies. Anna Harrison was the first first lady whose husband died while in office. She thus became the first widow of an incumbent president. Letitia Tyler died after little more than one year as first lady; she was the first wife of a president to die in the White House. Julia Tyler was the first woman to marry an incumbent president. No other administration faced such turmoil—which seems only fitting, since the Harrison–Tyler presidency itself broke new ground. Forced to take over as president unexpectedly, Tyler asserted his authority on his first day in office but was soon at odds with his party, the Whigs, who formally read him out of their ranks in September 1841. Tyler there­ fore became a “president without a party,” a defect remedied, it was said, right before he left office, when Julia gave a party the likes of which Washington had never seen. The uniqueness of these women within the context of first ladies is, however, con­ fined almost solely to the accidents of fate that placed them in their positions. Their abbreviated tenures as first lady virtually ensured they would not play significant roles in the development of the institution. Anna Harrison and Letitia Tyler had little to  do

politically with the “Tippecanoe and Tyler, Too” campaign of 1840, which elevated their husbands to the executive branch, and they played no role at all in their administrations. In her short time as first lady, Julia Tyler enjoyed a limited political role that some­ what mirrored the function Dolley Madison had perfected three decades earlier; but her tenure displayed more style than substance. Anna Harrison Largely because President William Henry Harrison’s tenure as chief executive was the shortest in American history, there is very little sustained analysis of Anna Harrison in the scholarly literature. Nor is there much in the way of historiographical debate. Anna never even lived in the White House, having chosen to remain in the couple’s North Bend, Ohio home until May 1841, when she planned to join her husband in Washington. His untimely death on April 4 therefore precluded any need for Anna to perform the functions of first lady. Jane Irwin Harrison, the Harrisons’ daughter‐in‐ law and widow of William Junior, their son, assumed the role of official hostess for the few social events held during Harrison’s brief time as president.

A Companion to First Ladies, First Edition. Edited by Katherine A. S. Sibley. © 2016 John Wiley & Sons, Inc. Published 2016 by John Wiley & Sons, Inc.



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Laura C. Holloway’s work (1870, 1881) is the place to start if one wishes to make an assessment of Anna Harrison’s life. Indeed Holloway should be the first port of call for any scholar interested in first ladies from Martha Washington to Lucy Hayes. While her tone and style are almost uniformly laudatory, and although she writes with the romanticism and purple prose common in the nineteenth century, Holloway does sup­ plement her observations with passages from letters that she solicited and collected from family members of her subjects. In fact, where possible, her analysis derives from these letters. Quotations from them, which are interspersed at the appropriate places throughout the text, make her book a valu­ able primary (in addition to secondary) source. The reader must realize, however, that, because the letters Holloway uses are almost always from family members, they tend to offer wholly positive assessments of the first ladies. At times small factual errors mar the book, too. Holloway presents a brief sketch of Anna Harrison’s life and portrays her as an intensely religious woman devoted to her husband and children. Often left at home— either in Cincinnati or, later, in North Bend—when her husband attended to military or political duties elsewhere, she raised her children and sustained her marriage with determination and faith. She was also well read and followed politics in the newspa­ pers. Holloway tells us, however, that Anna did not want her husband to win election to the presidency and had no desire to take part in the Washington social scene. Cleaves’s (1969) biography of William Henry Harrison, first published in 1939, presents an interpretation of Anna Harrison consistent with that of Holloway, though he does not cite her as a source. He details Anna’s often poor health, to which Holloway alluded as well, and attributes it to her hav­ ing endured ten pregnancies. The Harrisons’ last child was born eighteen years after their first, so Anna’s health was especially at risk

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as she got older. During the campaign of 1840 Anna became “seriously ill” (Cleaves, 1969: 324). She recovered, but was less than enthusiastic about her husband’s victory. “I wish,” she said, “that my husband’s friends had left him where he is, happy and contented in retirement” (Cleaves, 1969: 328). Holloway maintains that Anna’s physician urged her to remain at home in the winter of 1841 and not to travel with her husband to Washington. Her compliance is the reason why she was not at the White House when President Harrison died; and she saw no reason to make her way to Washington for his state funeral. Books by Prindiville (1932) and Whitton (2013) offer more detail about Anna Harrison’s life, but do not materially alter the sketch of her character that Holloway provides. They do, however, touch on the theme of loss; five of the Harrison children died before their parents and Anna outlived all but her son John Scott Harrison, the father of future president Benjamin Harrison. Two other recent assessments of Anna highlight the interest in politics that Holloway touches on briefly. As Carl Sferazza Anthony (1990) and Nancy Beck Young (1996) point out, Anna was well read—which reflected her childhood edu­ cation—and well informed on the matters of the day, and she enjoyed conversations with the political figures who visited her husband at their home. Anthony makes it clear, in accordance with Holloway and Cleaves, that Anna’s interest in politics did not translate into a desire to be a presidential wife. After her husband’s death, however, she used her status as Harrison’s widow to lobby President John Tyler for political appointments for members of her family, despite her apparent distaste for the direction in which the Tyler administration had taken the country. She also sought—and received—military commissions for her grandsons from Tyler’s successor, James K.  Polk. Finally, there was the matter of money. Young (1996) details the financial

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straits Anna found herself in, both during her marriage and after President Harrison’s death. This despite the pension the federal government granted her in June 1841. Most works that assess Anna Harrison relate an anecdote from the 1840 presidential election campaign that illustrates to some extent how religious she was and how much influence she exerted on her husband. The anecdote—one in which William Henry Harrison is actually quoted—appeared for the first time in Holloway’s book. The soon‐ to‐be President Harrison informed supporters that he would not engage in electioneering on Sunday, out of deference to his wife’s respect for the Sabbath. While Cleaves com­ mented that Anna “rule[d] the General apparently” (Cleaves, 1969: 321), scholars such as Paul Boller (1998) and Young (1996) have cautioned us not to read too much into the story. Boller, in fact, writes that “there is no reason to think she was boss” (Boller, 1998: 75). Young argues that Anna’s “voice over his decisions was fairly limited” (Young, 1996: 106). In light of her desire to keep her husband away from the presidency, Anna obviously did not enjoy all that much influence over his career. Unfortunately, fuller analysis of this topic is probably impossible. Anna’s personal papers were destroyed when the home in North Bend burned to the ground in 1855. While there are scattered references to her in at least three archives and in two edited collections of her father’s letters, we lack the documents that would afford a more complete view of Anna’s life and influence. Anna’s reputation among scholars reflects the dearth of primary materials. During the 1980s and 1990s, the Sienna Research Institute (SRI) and political scientist Robert Watson conducted separate polls to assess the influence of first ladies on the presidencies of their husbands. The SRI chose not to rank Anna Harrison. Watson queried presidential scholars in 1996 and found that most of his respondents “knew almost nothing about” her (Watson, 2000: 208). Not surprisingly,

then, the poll placed her last among the 39 first ladies ranked by its respondents. Watson’s respondents also cast her as a “nonpartner,” one of the categories that Watson devised for the poll in order to assess what he calls “approaches to the first ladyship” (Watson, 2000: 138). According to this classification, Anna was defined as a spouse not active in politics, who served no function as a political advisor to her husband. Moreover, she was not interested in political activities or White House social affairs. Taking into account that most scholars knew little about Anna, and reflecting the more nuanced view of her found in Anthony’s (1990) work, which he cites, Watson himself offers a different classification of her. He characterizes her as a “partner in marriage,” arguing that she served as her husband’s personal advisor despite her non‐involvement in politics. Watson’s classification is prob­ lematic, though, because he also maintains that a “partner in marriage” participated in social issues and took an active interest in White House social affairs. He cites Elizabeth Monroe and Margaret Taylor as examples. But of course Anna Harrison never made it to Washington to assume the role of first lady. Perhaps Watson has projected the role Anna would have played according to his appraisal that she was supportive of her husband, even though she wished him not to have been elected president at all. Perhaps the scholars who “knew almost nothing about” Anna inadvertently were more correct in their assessment. Whatever the case, the ambiguity in the survey results reflects Anna’s status—as a first lady who never served as first lady—more than any­ thing else. Letitia Tyler Letitia Tyler is another first lady whom the presidential scholars who completed Robert Watson’s survey “knew almost nothing about” (Watson, 2000: 208). In fact the



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respondents could not even assign a single type of “approach to the first ladyship” that they believed described her. Watson himself characterizes Letitia as a “nonpart­ ner,” a category that needs no fuller elabo­ ration and that he applies to only one other first lady: Jane Pierce. Interestingly, these same scholars who exhibited no knowl­ edge of Letitia still ranked her thirtieth out of 39 first ladies, ahead of (among others) Mamie Eisenhower, Nancy Reagan, and Mary Lincoln (Watson, 2000: 189). Such an incongruous assessment undoubtedly speaks to the subjective nature of a survey that asked for a “general impression or opinion” of the first ladies. In other words a woman with no historical reputation fares better among academics than women toward whom there is apparently very little impartiality. At one level, this may suggest the continuing vitality of the old prejudice that favors a silent, passive role for the wives of presidents. At another, it sug­ gests that partisan appraisals of certain presidents may carry over into evaluations of their wives. The SRI poll, similarly, ranked Letitia thirtieth out of 37, again ahead of Nancy Reagan and Mary Lincoln, who finished thirty‐sixth and thirty‐seventh respectively (Watson, 2000: 189). Laura Holloway’s work (1870, 1881) presents the first account of Letitia Tyler in the literature, as it does for Anna Harrison. Holloway clearly admires Letitia and maintains that everyone who came into contact with her admired her as well. Letitia is characterized as unassuming and selfless, someone who “never aspired to wield the sceptre of fash­ ion, and never sought to attract attention beyond the limits of her own family, and the circle of her immediate friends and relatives” (Holloway, 1881: 314). She was  also deeply religious. Later work has ­without fail characterized Letitia in this way, and scholars have often added words like “beautiful,” “demure,” and “introverted” ­ to paint a more complete, albeit romanti­ cized, picture.

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Tyler’s relatives provided Holloway with their reminiscences about Letitia. Her son John Tyler Junior, for example, and her daughter Letitia Tyler Semple, shared affectionate and poignant memories of their mother. In the earlier, 1870 edition of her book Holloway includes a lengthy letter she received from John Junior—a remarkable document that details his mother’s kindness and generosity; a touching account of Letitia’s affection for her husband; and details about the public reaction to her death in September 1842. Both Tyler children credited their mother with keeping the household together and with managing the family plantation during the frequent absences of their father, who spent much of their young lives in politics—mostly in Washington, as a member of Congress and, later, as a US senator. Of course, this meant that Letitia knew the South’s slave system firsthand, though there are no sources available that would tell us what she felt about the institution or whether it troubled her conscience. John Junior maintained that  Letitia was “scrupulously attentive to every wish expressed by her husband as to the management of his interests in his absence on public affairs” (Holloway, 1881: 315–316). Letitia’s plantation management is also briefly recounted in Oliver P. Chitwood’s biography of John Tyler, first published in  1939, a work that refers to her as an “efficient entrepreneur” (Chitwood, 2000: 25). Anthony (1990) mimics this interpre­ tation—which comes as no surprise, since he uses Holloway to frame much of his analysis. “She had for years entirely run the complex business of their plantation,” he writes of Letitia, “and made all the financial investments” (Anthony, 1990: 121). The John Tyler Papers in the Library of Congress, however, provide evidence that Tyler relied on overseers as well as on a network of relatives to aid Letitia while he was away from home, which suggests that perhaps Chitwood and Anthony have overstated

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their case. The two scholars obviously accepted at face value John Tyler Junior’s statement about his mother’s management of the family plantation, without seeming to realize that he may have portrayed the situation like this to Holloway because of his high esteem for Letitia, or in order to absolve his father for his many absences. Chitwood also examines the courtship of John and Letitia Tyler. This is significant, because it allows him to cite the single surviving love letter that Tyler wrote to his future bride, in December 1812. This letter is also quoted at length by Robert Seager II (1963). Seager aptly summarizes the prevailing view of the Tyler marriage adopted in much of the earlier scholarship by calling it a “tranquil relationship” and a “happy mar­ riage” (Seager, 1963: 57). More recent scholarship suggests a differ­ ent view of the Tyler marriage and indicates that both Chitwood and Seager papered over some difficulties between Letitia and her husband. Christopher Leahy (2006) argues that John Tyler’s career in national politics placed tremendous strain on the relationship he shared with his wife and concludes that, while Letitia did play a vital role in ensuring the Tyler family’s solvency, she was not quite the dispassionate and focused “businesswoman” Chitwood and Anthony portray. Her chronic ill health also undermines their interpretation somewhat. Leahy’s work argues that John Tyler depended on his oldest child, Mary, to vigilantly monitor her mother’s health in his absence, which further suggests that Letitia may not have been well enough to play the role Chitwood and Anthony ascribe to her. All scholars who have written about Letitia at least allude to her health problems, which became more significant and more debilitating as she got older. Leahy, however, is the first to point out that her frequent pregnancies (of which there were nine) and the anxiety she exhibited when her husband was in Washington exacerbated her physical difficulties. Her emotional

well‐being suffered as she attempted to adjust to John Tyler’s long absences. Then again, perhaps it is more appropriate to say that she never really did adjust. It is difficult to offer an exhaustive assessment of Letitia’s emotional health, and virtually impossible to fully understand how her husband’s absences affected her mental state over the duration of their marriage, because hardly any of her own letters that might offer insight survive. Nevertheless, we can infer from the fragmentary evidence that does exist that Letitia experienced emotional crises similar to those of other nineteenth‐ century women whose marriages fell short of the emerging companionate ideal they sought as they entered into these unions. As  Anya Jabour (1998: 4) has shown, married couples in antebellum America— and especially wives—measured the success of their union by the degree to which it was characterized by affection and respect and by the extent to which they found personal fulfillment in their marriage. Letitia may have found such fulfillment elusive. She suffered often wrenching emotional anguish as her husband continued to carve out a national political career for himself and to make public life rather than marriage his top priority. Seager acknowledges this by writing that Letitia lived “always in the shadow of John Tyler’s ambition” (Seager, 1963: 58). Often Letitia’s emotional pain manifested itself psychosomatically, and it seems apparent that she suffered from what physicians of her time called “hysteria.” Her hysteric symptoms usually coincided with her husband’s departures. This is a subject that merits more attention. Leahy maintains that Tyler recognized the deleterious impact of his career on his wife and retired from politics twice—first in  1821, and again in 1836—in large part to  mollify Letitia. By the time he became president, however, Letitia was in such poor health that she was unable to assume the role of first lady. In 1839 she had had a stroke that left her partially paralyzed and



the ladies of tippecanoe, and tyler too

she spent her time in the White House largely confined to her bedchamber, where she convalesced but did not get better. To  oversee the social functions of his administration, Tyler turned to his daughter‐ in‐law Priscilla Cooper Tyler. Priscilla, a former Shakespearean actress, substituted for her ailing mother‐in‐law and  served as White House hostess from April 1841 until May 1844. She became a protégée of the aging Dolley Madison and a  much admired and integral part of the Tyler administration. She negotiated the Washington social scene with skill and grace. This was no small feat. The Whig Party banished her father‐in‐law from its ranks in September 1841, after a second veto of a bill that would have chartered a third national bank. The intense partisanship that resulted severely hampered Tyler’s ability to accom­ plish much in the way of policy. Priscilla’s successes thus often provided the adminis­ tration with a respite from the difficulties of politics. Priscilla Tyler invites a fair amount of attention in the scholarly literature because of her position as a “surrogate” hostess. While earlier works such as Chitwood’s (2000) biography or Seager’s (1963) study credit her as a successful hostess, it was not until the work of Betty Boyd Caroli (1987) that the larger significance of her role was addressed. Caroli calls attention to the fact that Priscilla was one of several “substitute” hostesses or “stand‐in chatelaines” that were quite common in the middle of the nine­ teenth century. Anna Harrison and Letitia Tyler were two of the six first ladies in this period who relied on substitutes. Caroli hints at the institutional implications of this development, arguing that “the long reign of substitutes can hardly be explained away as mere coincidence” (Caroli, 1987: 35). She does not, however, explain the broader significance of what she describes. Such an explanation began to take shape with the work of Robert Watson (2000). In  fact Watson was the first scholar to

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employ the terms “proxy” and “surrogate” to describe the role Priscilla and other substitute hostesses played; and he pushes Caroli’s insight further. Rejecting the outdated framework of historians such as Chitwood and Seager, products of their times who tended to view Priscilla’s role narrowly—as a sum of activities that people expected women on hand to take on—Watson expands the scope of analysis. “It is not just an antiquated social convention that a woman should preside over social affairs,” he writes. “Rather, the need for and accept­ ance of surrogacy imply the importance of  the first lady in the social affairs of the presidency, her importance as a public figure, and the central role she fulfills in the management of the White House” (Watson, 2000: 62). What makes Watson’s analysis so significant to historiography is his recognition that surrogates such as Priscilla Tyler contributed to the evolving role of first lady, despite the fact that they were not married to the president and despite the often difficult circumstances that had brought them to the role in the first place. “The women that served as White House hostesses in place of first ladies,” Watson argues, “did not simply fill in for a deceased or ill presidential spouse; rather, they themselves made many contri­ butions to the office” (Watson, 2000: 66). Watson’s analysis offers an alternative, more complex perspective than that of Lewis Gould, who suggested that surrogates’ “contributions to the institution of first lady were fleeting and ephemeral” and therefore “they [the surrogates themselves] did not merit inclusion in a volume devoted to presidential wives” (Gould, 1996: xiv). Despite highlighting the importance of surrogates to the evolving role of first lady, Watson found it difficult to rate them according to the standards he established for the wives of presidents. “So little is known about surrogate first ladies that it would be highly difficult to assess their perfor­ mance,” he writes (Watson, 2000: 172–173).

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A recent study of Priscilla Tyler by Leahy (2012) mines the archives that allow for such an assessment of at least one surro­ gate. Using Priscilla’s journal and letters to her sisters as sources, parts of which are excerpted in Mrs. E. F. Ellet’s (1869) chronicle of Washington society, Leahy argues that a surrogate such as Priscilla “possessed certain advantages over a presi­ dent’s wife that actually enhanced her ability to perform as White House hostess.” She had agreed to take on the duties willingly; she did not face the daunting task of trying to sustain a marriage to a man who had many demands placed on his time; and, because she was usually so much younger than the president and his wife, she “had the potential to energize the Washington social scene in ways that an older woman could not.” Moreover, Leahy writes, her youth often made a surrogate “undeniably attractive” and may have “added a psycho‐sexual dimension to social occasions,” as politicians away from their wives enjoyed spending an evening in the company of a beautiful young woman (Leahy, 2012: 245). All of this, of course, redounded to the benefit of the president, even one as embattled as John Tyler. Priscilla Cooper Tyler’s success as a surrogate hostess has recently tended to overshadow Letitia Tyler in the scholarly literature. Perhaps this is appropriate. Scholars looking for more insight into Letitia’s life will have to follow the lead of Melba Porter Hay (2006b). She points out that Lyon G. Tyler’s (1884, 1885, 1896) three‐volume work Letters and Times of the Tylers contains several letters from John Tyler to his eldest daughter, Mary, and to his sons Robert and John Junior that reveal a great deal about their mother’s character. Similar letters are found in the John Tyler Papers at the Library of Congress. “I could not hold up to you a better pattern for your imitation than is constantly presented you by your dear mother,” Tyler wrote to Mary in one such letter. “You never see her course

marked by precipitation, but on the contrary everything is brought before the tribunal of her judgment, and her actions are all founded in prudence” (quoted in Leahy, 2006: 345). Such indirect sources, while revealing to some degree, unfortunately constitute almost everything that is available to those interested in finding out more about Letitia—because, again, hardly any of  her own letters survive. More recent scholarship on family life in the antebellum South, including work on childbearing and motherhood, may hold the key to a fuller portrayal of her. Historians would do well to utilize this work so they can better situate Letitia in the role she played before her husband became president and thus provide a fuller picture of the type of life she led. Julia Gardiner Tyler For all of the detail with which Laura Holloway relates the life stories of the first ladies, she is remarkably brief in dealing with Julia Gardiner Tyler. A mere two pages, in fact, suffices to cover President Tyler’s much younger second wife, whom he married on June 26, 1844, not quite two years after Letitia’s death, and who served as first lady for eight months. It is unclear what scholars should make of this. After having read the account of Letitia Tyler in the previous chapter of Holloway’s book, one might assume that, because the author had established relationships with John Junior and Letitia Tyler Semple, she may have felt it improper to lavish much attention on Julia. Perhaps Holloway simply did not like her. Robert Seager (1963) points out factual errors about Julia’s life in  the book and observes that Julia had “made Holloway privy to an extensive autobiographical account of her life, detailed and correct, but the author could scarcely have employed it in constructing her account” (Seager, 1963: 642, n39). Seager seems baffled by this but offers no comment



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on why he thought Holloway had been so sparse in her coverage of Julia. Holloway writes that Julia “did the honors of the Executive Mansion, performing her agreeable task with credit to herself and pleasure to her friends” (Holloway, 1881: 346), but this is the only sentence that addresses her time in the White House, and it appears to be damning Tyler’s second wife with faint praise. Whatever Holloway’s motives, her account is so limited that she does not provide the scholar with useful information. Her neglect of Julia, however, while unfortunate, has not stopped numerous writers from examining a woman who, historiographically, has been much more important than either Anna Harrison or Letitia Tyler. Examinations of Julia’s youth invariably start in the same way—by describing a beau­ tiful, extroverted socialite who grew up in a well‐to‐do old New York family and who attended finishing school at Madame Chagaray’s while worrying over the latest fashions and flirting with eligible beaux, much to the chagrin of her parents. Seager (1963), who has published the only full‐ scale biography of Julia to date, wrote that, at twenty years of age, “she was so adept at attracting hot‐blooded suitors that her family whisked her off to Europe for a cooling‐off period” (Seager, 1963: 31). However, Seager offers no proof that Julia had by this time perfected the art of flirting with anyone, nor does he conclusively establish that her parents had to resort to such drastic measures to cool their daughter’s ardor. Her father did indeed take her, her sister Margaret, and the girls’ mother Juliana to Europe in September 1840, but this was hardly unusual for wealthy American families at the time. Seager’s por­ trayal of Julia is plausible, to be sure, but he relies on limited evidence to craft his account, because there are very few sources that speak to Julia’s early life. Scant evidence, paired with supposition, has created a stock image of Julia that she may not deserve. Seager’s portrayal of Julia actually expands and elaborates in more scholarly fashion upon

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what Robert Payne had written about her several years earlier. Most of Payne’s (1958) book, which Seager cites, is dedicated to the history and lore of Gardiner’s Island, the original thirty‐three hundred acre homestead located off the eastern tip of Long Island, New York where the extended family of Julia’s father settled in 1639. However, Payne devotes to Julia an entire chapter, which he provocatively titles “A Tigress in the White House.” The lively—and perhaps objectionable—first sentence of the chapter reads: “Julia was a minx: there was no doubt about it.” Wherefrom Payne derives his interpretation is unclear, as the book con­ tains only a slim bibliography of general sources. But he sallies forth with tales of Julia’s outrageous flirting and willfulness. According to him, during her youth, Julia “dazzled and glittered like a wild angelic meteor streaking across the skies” (Payne, 1958: 199). The use of such similes and the lack of documentary evidence mar Payne’s account of Julia; nevertheless, his view of her found its way into the historiography and to some extent it still prevails today. Payne is the first author to introduce the Gardiner family’s oral history of a depart­ ment store advertisement that Julia allegedly posed for in early 1840. Bogert and Mecamly’s No. 86, a modestly genteel dry goods establishment and clothier located on Ninth Street in Manhattan, distributed a lithograph that reportedly showed Julia endorsing its wares. In the lithograph’s foreground, a fashionably dressed woman of an undetermined age wears a fur‐lined winter coat while strolling on the arm of a bearded man with a top hat. The man appears to be several inches shorter than the woman. Dangling on the woman’s arm is a sign in the general shape of a handbag that reads, “I’ll purchase at Bogert & Mecamly’s No. 86 9th Avenue. Their Goods are Beautiful & Astonishingly Cheap.” In the background, a horse‐drawn carriage stands in front of a store with the sign “Bogert & Mecamly” over its front door. The bottom

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margin of the lithograph reads “The Rose of Long Island,” with the image of a rose inserted as a rebus for the word “Rose.” Julia was nicknamed the “Rose of Long Island,” a moniker that dated from around the time of this ad and which was used to describe her even many years later. Payne asserts that this lithograph was the first endorsed advertisement that ever appeared in New York City. He claims that Julia’s father, David Gardiner, decided to take his daughters abroad in the fall of 1840 because the lithograph scandalized his family, and that Julia had actually posed for an advertisement and for a firm that was not even located in the fashionable part of New York! Payne viewed a cause‐and‐effect at work here. “It is just possible,” he rumi­ nates, “that they went abroad to escape the inevitable raised eyebrows when people met to discuss that extraordinary lithograph” (Payne, 1958: 202–203). Yet there is no concrete evidence to support this assertion. Even Payne seems to recognize the flimsy basis of his argument, as his use of the word “possible” demonstrates. Posing for an advertisement without the consent of her parents would surely have attached scandal for a young woman from a well‐to‐do family. But we just do not know whether that is what happened in this case. Historian Theodore DeLaney (1995) points out that family tradition is the only evidence supporting the claim that the image is actually Julia Gardiner. Julia’s niece Sarah Diodati Gardiner later presented a copy of the lithograph to the City Museum of New York. Clearly she believed her aunt had posed for the advertisement. But this is a slender reed upon which to base Julia’s reputation. In fact, there is reason to look with suspicion upon Sarah Gardiner’s motives. Her father, David Gardiner, Julia’s older brother, broke completely with Julia during the Civil War and the two siblings fought bitterly over their mother’s will. David’s harsh feelings toward Julia may have colored Sarah Gardiner’s view of her aunt

and may have led her to the conclusion that posing for the lithograph was certainly something of which a woman of her char­ acter would have been capable. There is no evidence that Julia posed for the ad, nor did her parents leave any documentary evidence or statements that the lithograph was the reason for what Payne assumes was a hastily arranged European tour. Echoing Payne, Robert Seager (1963) constructs his own interpretation of the “Rose of Long Island” story, using the Gardiner–Tyler Family Papers at Yale University to build a circumstantial case that her parents took Julia to Europe to escape scandal. “That Julia posed for the lithograph,” Seager declares with a certainty not exactly justified by the evidence, “or approved the use of her likeness in connection with it, cannot be doubted.” Seager maintains that, by the time she turned twenty, Julia had grown bored with her life in East Hampton, New York. To substantiate her boredom, he quotes from a letter Julia wrote to her brother Alexander in 1840. “I generally hail the approach of [night],” she said in this letter, “as in the Land of Dreams I can at least experience variety” (Seager, 1963: 35). Because she was bored, Seager argues, Julia “provoked” the incident with the advertisement to spark excitement in her life and perhaps to prompt her parents to take her to Europe. Seager further maintains that the Gardiners “were embarrassed and humiliated that a proper daughter of theirs could have become involved in such a crass, commercial display” (Seager, 1963: 35). Adding to their embarrassment was the publication of a poem, “Julia—The Rose of Long Island,” penned by “Romeo Ringdove,” which appeared in the Brooklyn Daily News on May 11, 1840. According to Seager, someone sent a copy of the paper anonymously to Julia. Adding all of this together, Seager argues, removes any doubt that the image on the lithograph was that of Julia. In a footnote, Seager cites Payne, but charges



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that he “adds some colorful speculation not warranted by the facts” (Seager, 1963: 563, n39). For example, Payne asserts that the man in the advertisement looked like Julia’s father in disguise. Seager is unconvinced. However, his own interpretation of the alleged incident depends on supposition. “That Julia posed voluntarily would seem indicated by David Gardiner’s (Julia’s father) failure to press a lawsuit against Bogert and Mecamly” he writes (Seager, 1963: 563, n39). But this statement itself raises questions. Would pursuing legal remedies have been a logical course of action, given that the advertisement was likely the first of its kind in New York City? Seager was a careful historian whose account of the “Rose of Long Island” story certainly contains a slim degree of plausibility. Later scholars have certainly thought so. Caroli (1987) mentions the incident. Carl Anthony (1990) uses Seager’s account to undergird his discussion of Julia’s youth. Moreover, Melba Porter Hay (1996a) essentially repeats what Seager has written almost in its entirety. She even reiterates the same qualifying statements found in Seager’s book, arguing that Julia posed for the advertisement “[p]ossibly as a strategy for escaping the confines of Long Island.” Like Seager, she hedges a bit on whether the supposed furor over the ad prompted the trip abroad, writing that the incident “was perhaps the catalyst for removing Julia from the New York City area for awhile” (Hay, 1996a: 119). Neither Anthony nor Hay doubts that Julia’s image adorned the infamous lithograph. That part of the story seems to be taken as a given. What remains in doubt is whether Julia actually physically posed for the advertisement and whether, if  she had, the trip to Europe was the direct result of her appearance for Bogert and Mecamly’s. Julia and President Tyler met at a White House levée in January 1842, some eight months before Letitia died. The couple became formally engaged in April 1844,

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about seven weeks after Julia’s father had been killed in an explosion aboard the USS Princeton as it ferried a presidential party around the Potomac River. After Julia married John Tyler, she of course became first lady, replacing her stepdaughter Letitia Tyler Semple, who had served as White House hostess in the month since Priscilla Cooper Tyler had left Washington. Payne describes Julia as “like a kitten, gay, impetu­ ous, beautiful, determined to have her own way, with an eye for the handsome men around the President” (Payne, 1958: 216). When it came to politics, she “lobbied outrageously,” particularly in support of the annexation of Texas (Payne, 1958: 220). The reality was more complicated. Julia’s letters during her first few months at the White House—mostly written to her mother Juliana and to her sister Margaret—reveal that she was busy with the almost unceasing demands of the social calendar. Priscilla could have warned her that there would be very little time to accomplish all she needed to get done. Julia’s accounts of social events, with the crush of people, endless entertaining, and bruising handshakes, illustrate just how demanding her position could be. Her ability to push through and meet challenges with perseverance defined her time as first lady, and indeed characterized her life after Washington. Unfortunately these qualities are obscured by Payne’s exaggerated account. Chitwood (2000) provides a more reserved and judicious—and brief—appraisal of Julia’s performance as first lady. Perhaps he benefited from having written before Payne published his work. Chitwood states that Julia was “pre‐eminently successful in the discharge of her duties as mistress of cere­ monies at the White House” (Chitwood, 2000: 403) but offers few specific details to illustrate his point. He also acknowledges that Julia often found her position demanding. Of her interest in politics, Chitwood argues that it was “unusual even for the wives of statesmen and politicians” (Chitwood, 2000: 406). She was very interested in the fate of

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her husband’s policy objectives, especially the annexation of Texas, and she enjoyed discussions with prominent politicians, much as Dolley Madison had done years earlier. Chitwood uses some of Julia’s letters from this period, but they serve primarily to bolster his portrayal of John Tyler, who is,  after all, the subject of his biography. However, his straightforward analysis provides a glimpse of Julia’s commitment to her husband and of her role as first lady. In  Chitwood’s telling, Julia was far from the “minx” Payne describes. Of course, Seager (1963) has offered the most complete portrayal of Julia Gardiner Tyler to date; and he devotes an entire chapter of his book to the eight‐month period during which she served as first lady. It must be noted that this book is a dual biography of Julia and John Tyler and examines not only their life together, but also the events of his life and career, as well as the details of many other members of the Tyler and Gardiner families. Seager maintains that his account should not be viewed as definitive, but what makes it so significant to historiography is his use of the Gardiner–Tyler Family Papers at Yale. Seager was the first historian to mine the thousands of letters contained in this col­ lection; and it is obvious that he has employed them to great effect. This is all the more remarkable as Julia’s penmanship is often difficult to decipher. Because this is a dual biography, though, it ironically tends to obscure Julia somewhat, as Seager weaves into his narrative many stories that unfold at the same time. Seager highlights Julia’s youth and energy and portrays her as a veritable American queen who planned to dazzle Washington with weekly White House levées and several grand balls. He uses the word “queen” frequently, in fact, and maintains that Julia’s trip abroad four years before she became first lady had instilled in her a desire to replicate the court society found in Europe. There is truth to this

assessment, as Julia’s own letters and the accounts of people who were part of Washington society at the time make clear. In fact Julia created her own “court,” made up of young female Gardiner relatives and President Tyler’s youngest daughter, Alice. Seager’s account contradicts what Mrs. E. F. Ellet has to say about Julia’s social functions. According to Ellet, who presumably attended some of them, “Mrs. Tyler’s recep­ tions at the White House were noted for their simplicity as well as elegance and refinement” (Ellet, 1869: 361). The evidence supports Seager’s interpretation. But, Seager argues, there was a broader objective to Julia’s unique construction of the role of first lady. She “worked diligently to create the social atmosphere she felt the administration must effect if it hoped to achieve Texas or anything else.” According to him, she was “a born ballroom lobbyist” (Seager, 1963: 248). By the time Julia married John Tyler, he had given up hopes of winning election in his own right in November 1844. She recognized, however, that her husband’s pursuit of the annexation of Texas meant a great deal to his historical legacy and she did everything she could to move the process along. Robert Watson agrees with this interpretation by charac­ terizing Julia as a “Partial Partner” in his analysis (Watson, 2000: 143). While Seager wrote without the benefit of the recent scholarship on first ladies that explicitly connects the social scene to politics, his work does place Julia Tyler into the frame­ work that informs the current historiography. The historian Catherine Allgor (2000) maintains that first ladies used their domain of the “unofficial space”—levées and balls— to unify the legislative, judicial, and executive branches of government and to bring the powerful men who served in Congress into meaningful contact with each other and with the president. Allgor argues that this unofficial space, “outside the legitimate public forum, allow[ed] more room to maneuver than official space” (Allgor, 2000:



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87). Seager would have recognized this conception of the role Julia Tyler played, even if he did not articulate it in exactly the same way. Moreover, she must have played that role well, because President Tyler secured Texas for the United States right before he left office in March 1845. Seager also details the innovations that Julia introduced to the White House. She was the first presidential wife to employ a man who essentially became a press agent. She instructed the Marine Corps band to play “Hail to the Chief” whenever her hus­ band walked into a ballroom. She brought the polka to the White House. Later authors have found these particular aspects of Julia’s tenure as first lady interesting and have used them to enliven their own narratives. More importantly, these scholars have generally crafted their own portrayals of Julia in accordance with Seager’s depiction of her. His influence has been widespread and long‐lasting. Anthony (1990) and Caroli (1987) have supplemented Seager’s account of Julia’s “court” by quoting Jesse Benton Fremont, who reported that Julia “received [guests] seated, her large armchair on a slightly raised platform … three feathers in her hair and a long trained purple dress” (Caroli, 1987: 46). She also sniffed that “[o]ther Presidents’ wives have taken their state more easily” (Caroli, 1988: 46). The spir­ ited and opinionated Mrs. Fremont was likely not an unbiased observer, as her father, Senator Thomas Hart Benton, was a long‐time political enemy of John Tyler. Her words may be motivated by jealousy. But, when examined alongside Seager’s portrayal of Julia, they do fit the general narrative of her time as first lady. Anthony (1990) points out that at one time people in Washington called Julia the “Lovely Lady Presidentress,” not always with flattery in mind. Caroli offers a harsh assessment of her, referring to her “ingenue stance” and “immaturity and almost childlike egotism” (Caroli, 1987: 103, 106). More recent

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work, including that of Edward Crapol (2006), has been kinder to Julia but still hews closely to the framework Seager established more than fifty years ago. And at times there has been a tendency to push Seager’s analysis too far, which created a caricature of Julia so powerful that a well‐ respected presidential historian—Richard Norton Smith—could compare her to a well‐known pop singer and call her the “Madonna of her time.” Julia’s marriage to John Tyler, variously described in the scholarly literature as a “secret affair” or an “elopement,” caused a stir in New York, in Washington, and in the president’s family. The thirty‐year age gap between their father and his new bride troubled Julia’s new stepdaughters (but not Tyler’s three sons). Seager (1963) gives the impression that all the daughters except Letitia eventually grew to love Julia: he writes that “Julia fitted easily and quickly into the Tyler family complex” (Seager, 1963: 8). This was simply not the case and does not square with some of what Seager himself describes later in the book. Julia had a difficult time navigating the intricacies of her new role. Many of her letters, especially those from the late 1840s and from the 1850s, when she had moved to Sherwood Forest, the house Tyler bought for his retirement, contain cynical and acid remarks about all of the Tyler children. Julia enjoyed what was perhaps the most favorable relationship with Elizabeth Tyler Waller, who was her junior by only two years. But even this relationship seemed more like an alliance than like a friendship, as both women sought to stymie young Alice Tyler’s headstrong behavior and worked together to prepare her for marriage to Henry M. Denison. Alice tried Julia’s patience, as letters to her mother and sister demonstrate. Seager acknowledges this and details some of the conflict, but misses an opportunity to further explore the complex­ ities of Julia’s stepparenting relationships with the Tyler children.

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Another important aspect of Julia’s married life was her role as mistress of Sherwood Forest. Seager begins his discussion of this subject by writing that “at Sherwood Forest plantation Julia found the good life” (Seager, 1963: 300). Yet Julia’s letters to New York convey a very different impression. She sewed clothes, oversaw the cooking, cleaning, and gardening, purchased household goods, decorated the newly remodeled main house, and entertained the nearly endless number of guests who came to call on her and the former president. Julia worked extremely hard and bore little resemblance to the plantation mistress of lore who lived a life of leisure. While Seager certainly does not write in the tradition of “moonlight and magnolias”—the mythical portrayal of the antebellum South prevalent in the historical scholarship of the early twentieth‐century— he nevertheless seems to underestimate the arduous demands placed on Julia and does not fully explicate how she managed to perform her duties so well. Moreover, while Seager details Julia’s interactions with the enslaved people of Sherwood Forest, he does not examine the relationship between her labor and theirs, so the reader cannot understand the full complexity of day‐to‐ day life on the plantation. This is another missed opportunity. Seager is more successful at detailing Julia’s life as a mother. He writes that she was “wonderfully happy as a young mother” (Seager, 1963: 337). Indeed she was. After the birth of David Gardiner, her first child, in July 1846, she wasted no time enlisting her family in New York to buy everything— from clothing to shoes and hats, to toys and books—for her children. Her chief preoccu­ pation during her childbearing years was a maniacal devotion to procuring everything her growing brood—eventually there were seven—could possibly want. She relentlessly dispatched letters that specified exactly what she wanted. Some of these letters were in fact imperious in tone. But she had made up her mind that her children would want for

nothing, much to the chagrin of her weary family. Perhaps manifesting the sensibilities of the period in which he wrote, Seager is on less solid footing when he writes that Julia was “content to bear Tyler’s children” (Seager, 1963: 359). Although he points out that Julia suffered some difficulty with at least one child’s birth, he fails to appreciate the anxiety she experienced every time she  became pregnant. At first this anxiety reflected the fear, common among nine­ teenth‐century women, that they could very well die in childbirth. For Julia, however, there was another consideration: her mother. In letters to her sister, Julia acknowledged her mother’s near constant worry whenever she—Julia—became pregnant. She fretted even over telling her mother when she was expecting, because she realized she was likely to receive a rebuke and some declaration of her mother’s fear for her life. She especially did not look upon her later pregnancies with pleasure. But she accepted her lot and faced the demands placed upon her with an admirable amount of fatalism. If pregnancy and childbirth caused Julia stress, the relationship she shared with her husband generally did not. There is some debate over whether Julia reciprocated the same amount—or same type—of love that John Tyler bestowed on her. Seager quotes Tyler’s neighbor Edmund Ruffin, who, hav­ ing witnessed their interaction, wondered whether it might not be appropriate to view the Tylers in the manner of father and daughter. Even Ruffin, however, had to concede that Julia greatly admired her hus­ band. Boller (1998: 82) contends that Julia “came to adore” him, pointing out that she loved to hear the sound of his voice. Julia’s letters also reveal that she frequently asked her family in New York to purchase gifts for her husband. At one point she used her own money to buy a small carriage for him, because she was worried he would tire him­ self out walking the grounds of Sherwood Forest all day long. Julia also enjoyed his



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penchant for writing her poems and found his writing on political topics nothing short of eloquent. This was a happy marriage. Without question, though, the compo­ nent of the Tyler marriage that scholars have examined with the most interest is a piece of Julia’s writing, not her husband’s. In 1853 she published an open letter in the Richmond Enquirer that was soon reprinted in the Southern Literary Messenger. The missive was a rebuttal to a letter, published by the Duchess of Sutherland and several other well‐heeled British women, that urged southern ladies to use their superior moral qualifications and Christian faith to push for the abolition of slavery. Julia drove herself for an entire week, writing and rewriting her letter, with help from her husband. She essentially wrote that her antagonists should stay out of American affairs and argued that, if they wanted to bring about moral reform, they should look to the laboring poor of London and Ireland who, according to Julia (who saw firsthand evidence of their plight on her European tour), lived far more wretched lives than the slaves in Virginia and throughout the South. This was a common southern apologia for slavery, and it became particularly prevalent after the 1852 publication of Harriet Beecher Stowe’s Uncle Tom’s Cabin. The first mention of Julia’s “Letter to the Duchess of Sutherland and the Ladies of England” in the scholarly literature appears in Lyon G. Tyler’s (1885) work. Seager (1963) offers the first analysis of what Julia had writ­ ten and points out that she did not subscribe to the “positive good” defense of slavery that slaveholders had crafted in the face of the abolitionist assault that began in the 1830s. But it was left for later scholars to highlight why Julia’s literary effort mattered. In an underrated journal article, historian Evelyn Pugh (1980) examines the letter and assesses its larger significance. Pugh points out that southern women “generally main­ tained public silence” on the issue of slavery. Julia had therefore moved beyond the

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bounds of what was usually accepted and expected of women and had challenged the ideal of southern womanhood by making such a conspicuous and public statement. How was she able to escape censure for what she had done? Indeed, why was it that she received congratulations from so many quarters in the South? According to one historian, the answer lies in the topic of her letter. As Crapol (2006: 243) points out, Julia had “effectively defended the South’s peculiar institution and had forecast the impending glories of America’s national destiny.” In other words, she had expressed her written and public opinion on the only topic that southern men would have approved. Had she written on almost any other political subject, and had she strayed from a defense of slavery, she would no doubt have received harsh rebukes. Her husband would have had, as well. Instead Julia has received those rebukes from Robert Watson, who argues that “[p]erhaps the biggest blemish in the first ladies [sic] otherwise respectable record on the slavery question was Julia Tyler’s support of slavery” (Watson, 2000: 106). Seager and Crapol both make clear that, by the 1850s, Julia had adopted John Tyler’s political viewpoints and had come to regard herself as a Virginian. Robert Payne even claims that she “developed a Virginian accent” (Payne, 1958: 222). What is clear from the Duchess of Sutherland letter is that Julia’s allegiance had shifted to the South by the early 1850s, despite her New York roots. It comes as no surprise, therefore, that she sided with the Confederacy during the Civil War. Seager is very effective at detailing her experiences during the war. In fact the period from John Tyler’s death in 1862 until Julia’s death in 1889 is the best part of the book, perhaps because Seager could focus his attention squarely on Julia. Readers see that Julia struggled with the challenges of her family’s straitened circum­ stances after the war. In fact she almost lost Sherwood Forest.

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Seager’s work remains the only published account of the entirety of Julia’s life as President Tyler’s widow. However, Theodore DeLaney’s (1995) William and Mary doctoral dissertation addresses her later years (and the rest of her life), and does so with the benefit of the scholarship that resulted from the explosive growth of women’s history that occurred in the 1970s and 1980s. DeLaney is drawn to “the fundamental question of how an ambitious woman could fulfill personal aspirations without openly defying gender conventions” and is par­ ticularly interested in how education, domesticity, slavery, politics, and religion affected Julia Tyler (DeLaney, 1995: vii). DeLaney’s work is somewhat limited in scope. For example, he largely glosses over Julia’s childbearing years and is content to do little more than list the names of her children and the years in which they were born. In addressing Julia’s relationships with her stepchildren, he primarily echoes Seager and misses an opportunity to correct the older work. DeLaney does offer detail about Julia’s dabbling in homeopathy, something also covered in Seager. She and her mother were indefatigable students of homeopathic remedies and had no shortage of willing victims: seven children plus an aging husband. An examination of Julia’s correspondence from the 1850s reveals her  alarming practice of administering doses of mercury and chalk to her family and laudanum to herself for various aches and pains, without the supervision of a doctor. Her letters also discuss the importance of letting fresh air into the house as a means of keeping sickness at bay. Unfortunately DeLaney does not place Julia’s actions into the larger context of nineteenth‐century medicine. The greatest strength of DeLaney’s work is its treatment of Julia’s later years. He chronicles the Tyler family’s return to semi‐normalcy after the Civil War and is particularly adept at analyzing the financial difficulties Julia faced in her twilight years.

Worries over money provide a link between Julia and Anna Harrison and remind us that having married the president is no guarantee of solvency. Like Anna, Julia secured a pension from the federal government because of her status as a president’s widow. Julia, however, had to work very hard for hers, unlike her predecessor, in large part because of the reputation of her husband, who had renounced his American citizenship and had been elected to the confederate congress. DeLaney demonstrates, as did Seager before him, that Julia was a determined, tough, persistent woman. One other study of Julia Tyler merits attention, if only because of the salacious nature of its conclusions. Millett and White (2007) examine the relationship between Julia and James Semple, the man who married her husband’s daughter Letitia and who became a paymaster for the confederate government. Julia relied on Semple to furnish her with information about her two eldest sons, who enlisted to fight in the war. She also sought his help for a time after the war, after she and her youngest children had moved to Staten Island. Millett and White (2007: 109) assert that “she (Julia) developed a sense of comfort and security, almost an expectation that nothing could really go wrong as long as Semple—Brother James, as he liked to call himself—was there to support her when she needed him.” Fair enough. But the authors use innuendo to raise the possibility that Julia and Semple shared a romantic relationship. They cite a tender, yet somewhat incoherent letter that Semple wrote to Julia in May of 1866. Seager exam­ ines this letter as well and finds nothing in the way of romance, arguing that Semple had a “near‐total nervous breakdown” shortly before he sent the letter (Seager, 1963: 519). Seager also cites Julia’s response to Semple’s addresses, quoting her as saying “I am sure our friendship will be unmistak­ able” (Seager, 1963: 519). Millett and White attempt to further bolster their case by pointing out that Semple’s estranged



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wife, Letitia, found reason to believe that her husband was intimately involved with her stepmother. At most, it appears that the relationship may have been a one‐sided romance that existed in the mind of James Semple. There is no concrete evidence to support Millett and White’s hinted‐at conclusion. That Julia Gardiner Tyler still attracts interest should come as no surprise. Because of her age when she married President Tyler and because of her temperament, she remains the most interesting of the Harrison and Tyler first ladies. However, she did not fare much better than Letitia in the polls Robert Watson and the SRI conducted. Watson’s 1996 survey ranks her twenty‐ eighth out of 39, while the SRI poll ranked her twenty‐seventh. Many of Watson’s respondents indicated, as they had with Anna Harrison and Letitia Tyler, that they knew “almost nothing” about Julia (Watson, 2000: 208). That will likely change in the near future. Whereas the documentary evidence necessary for a full‐scale reassessment of Anna Harrison or Letitia Tyler will probably never be found, the Gardiner–Tyler Papers at Yale still contain untapped information that neither Seager nor DeLaney exploited to full advantage. Julia still has a lot to tell scholars. If properly edited, her letters may prove even more useful than the well‐known Civil War diaries of Mary Chesnut and Sarah Morgan and may tell us more about plantation life in the antebellum South than Fanny Kemble’s journal.

References Allgor, C. 2000. Parlor Politics: In Which the Ladies of Washington Help Build a City and a Government. Charlottesville: University Press of Virginia. Anthony, C. S. 1990. First Ladies: The Saga of the Presidents’ Wives and Their Power, 1789–1961. New York: William Morrow.

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Boller, P. F., Jr. 1998 [1988]. Presidential Wives: An Anecdotal History. New York: Oxford University Press. Caroli, B. B. 1987. First Ladies. New York: Oxford University Press. Chitwood, O. P. 2000 [1939]. John Tyler: Champion of the Old South. Newtown, CT: American Political Biography Press. Cleaves, F. 1969 [1939]. Old Tippecanoe: William Henry Harrison and His Time. Port Washington, NY: Kennikat Press. Crapol, E. P. 2006. John Tyler: The Accidental President. Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press. DeLaney, T. C. 1995. “Julia Gardiner Tyler: A  Nineteenth‐Century Southern Woman.” Doctoral dissertation, College of William and Mary, Williamsburg, Virginia. Ellett, Mrs. E. F. 1869. Court Circles of the Republic. Hartford: Hartford Publishing. Gould, L., ed. 1996. American First Ladies: Their Lives and Their Legacy. New York: Garland. Hay, M. P. 1996a. “Julia Gardiner Tyler.” In American First Ladies: Their Lives and Their Legacy, edited by L. Gould, 117–129. New York: Garland. Hay, M. P. 1996b. “Letitia (Christian) Tyler.” In  American First Ladies: Their Lives and Their Legacy, edited by L. Gould, 109–116. New York: Garland. Holloway, L. C. 1870. The Ladies of the White House: Or, In the Home of the Presidents. Philadelphia: Bradley. Holloway, L. C. 1881. The Ladies of the White House: Or, In the Home of the Presidents, rev. edn. Philadelphia: Bradley. Jabour, A. 1998. Marriage in the Early Republic: Elizabeth and William Wirt and the Companionate Ideal. Baltimore, MD: John Hopkins University Press. Leahy, C. 2006. “Torn Between Family and Politics: John Tyler’s Struggle for Balance.” Virginia Magazine of History and Biography 114 (3): 323–355. Leahy, C. 2012. “Playing Her Greatest Role: Priscilla Cooper Tyler and the Politics of the White House Social Scene.” Virginia Magazine of History and Biography 120 (3): 236–269. Millett, W., and G. White. 2007. The Rebel and the Rose: James Semple, Julia Gardiner Tyler, and the Lost Confederate Gold. New York: Cumberland House Publishing.

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Payne, R. 1958. The Island. New York: Harcourt, Brace. Prindiville, K. 1932. First Ladies. New York: Macmillan. Pugh, E. 1980. “Women and Slavery: Julia Gardiner Tyler and the Duchess of Sutherland.” Virginia Magazine of History and Biography 88 (2): 186–202. Seager II, R. 1963. And Tyler Too: A Biography of John and Julia Gardiner Tyler. New York: McGraw‐Hill. Tyler, L. G. 1884. Letters and Times of the Tylers, vol. 1. Richmond: Whittet and Shepperson. Tyler, L. G. 1885. Letters and Times of the Tylers, vol. 2. Richmond: Whittet and Shepperson.

Tyler, L. G. 1896. Letters and Times of the Tylers, vol. 3. Richmond: Whittet and Shepperson. Watson, R. P. 2000. The Presidents’ Wives: Reassessing the Office of First Lady. Boulder, CO: Lynne Rienner. Whitton, M. O. 2013 [1948]. First First Ladies, 1789–1865: A Study of the Wives of the Early Presidents. Whitefish, MT: Literary Licensing, LLC. Young, N. B. 1996. “Anna (Tuthill Symmes) Harrison.” In American First Ladies: Their Lives and Their Legacy, edited by L. Gould, 98–108. New York: Garland.

Chapter Ten

Sarah Polk: Ideas of Her Own Valerie Palmer‐Mehta

It has been said that James Polk, eleventh president of the United States, “has not been one of our best known Presidents” (Library of Congress, 1969: v). The same might be said of his wife, Sarah Childress Polk. Although scholars have ranked Sarah the sixth most influential first lady in history, and she is credited with taking the role of first lady to a new level, she has not gained the recognition that other first ladies have enjoyed (Borneman, 2009: 358; Peterson, 2002: 61). This oversight might be attrib­ uted to the fact that her written remains are scarce and few book‐length biographies of her exist (Bumgarner, 1997; Nelson and Nelson, 1892; Peterson, 2002). In fact, much of what is known about Mrs. Polk derives from biographies of her husband, which roundly affirm her myriad contribu­ tions to his political success and her distinc­ tion as first lady (Borneman, 2009; Haynes, 2006; Merry, 2009). Presidential historian Walter Borneman (2009: 358) appropri­ ately captures her sway when he states: “Sarah’s long involvement with her hus­ band’s political campaigns, her in‐depth knowledge of the issues and personalities of  Washington, and her unrivaled role as

­residential confidante all made her a p ­powerful and influential first lady.” Sarah’s political acumen and activity were distin­ guished, especially considering the limited roles available to women who came of age in the early nineteenth century. At a time when US culture circumscribed women’s lives, and women did not have a legal existence separate from that of their husbands, the Polks’ relationship has been referred to as a “marital partnership” (Merry, 2009: 50). It is well known that Sarah kept Mr. Polk apprised of political developments by listening to speeches in the House, by having conversations with key political and community leaders, and by researching newspapers and high­ lighting pertinent stories for James to read (Roberts, 2003: 71; Thacker‐Estrada, 2003: 87). In so doing she effectively became one of his top advisors, prompting Sam Laughlin, a newspaper editor from Nashville, to refer to her as a “Membress of Congress” (Peterson, 2002: 62). When her husband ran for governor and presi­ dent, Sarah played leading roles in his campaigns and she also is credited with helping James write and edit his speeches

A Companion to First Ladies, First Edition. Edited by Katherine A. S. Sibley. © 2016 John Wiley & Sons, Inc. Published 2016 by John Wiley & Sons, Inc.

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(Roberts, 2003: 71–74; Thacker‐Estrada, 2003: 87–88). Elizabeth Thacker‐Estrada (2003: 86) asserts that Sarah “was one of the few first ladies during this time to expand the role of president’s wife, thus prefiguring the more activist first ladies of the current era.” She was a popular first lady and a clear asset to James; even so, some felt that she possessed too much influence (Caroli, 2010: 65; Thacker‐Estrada, 2003: 86). Historians agree that Sarah was an active force in her own right. Unfortunately, much of her life and thoughts remain hidden from history. The Education of Sarah Childress Sarah was born on September 4, 1803 into a prosperous and esteemed household headed by Joel and Elizabeth Childress in Rutherford County, Tennessee. Named after her maternal grandmother, Sarah Thompson Whitsett, she was the third of six children. Her living siblings were Anderson (1799–1827), Susan (1801–1888), and John (1807–1884); her brother Benjamin (c. 1803–1807) and sister Elizabeth (n.d.) died in infancy of unknown illnesses (Anthony, n.d.: para. 3–4; Bumgarner, 1997: 15). As early settlers of Middle Tennessee, the Childresses were well regarded. Nelson and Nelson (1892: 1) report that they “were persons of high standing in those days, when character was esteemed for its intrinsic merit, and when the vision of the people was less confused with the glare of place and power and wealth than now.” Joel Childress was known for his charac­ ter, but he was not without place, power, or wealth. A successful planter and business­ man, he established myriad connections to people of influence. The Childresses enter­ tained judges, lawyers, and other men of reputation, including Andrew Jackson. Joel Childress used his means to educate his sons, but what is more striking is that he ensured that his daughters’ minds were

developed too. John Bumgarner (1997: 16) notes of the era: “Even among the wealthy, daughters were not considered worthy of more than a basic education.” Not only did many consider it unproductive to educate a daughter at the time, it also was deemed injurious, indeed “all learning above the necessary attainments of reading, writing, and the first principles of arithmetic was absolutely hurtful, disqualifying her for the obvious duties of her station, —the care of the household” (Nelson and Nelson, 1892: 4). Correspondingly, there were few educa­ tional opportunities for girls. Any opportu­ nity had to be arranged with the thoughtful planning of one’s parents and the enlistment of teachers who were willing to do the work (Nelson and Nelson, 1892: 3). In educating his daughters, Mr. Childress knowingly departed from the social convention of his day and prepared Sarah for the pivotal role she would ultimately take on. Sarah and her older sister, Susan, com­ menced their education along with their brothers, at the local common school, where they likely received basic instruction in read­ ing, writing, and arithmetic (Anthony, n.d.: para. 6). The sisters were then tutored by Samuel P. Black, the principal of the Bradley Academy in Murfreesboro. Because the Bradley Academy was a private school for boys, the girls had to be tutored by Mr. Black after school hours (Bumgarner, 1997: 16; Nelson and Nelson, 1892: 4). Subsequently the girls attended Abercrombie’s Boarding School in Nashville, where they learned social etiquette, sewing, and how to play the piano (Nelson and Nelson, 1892: 4). Sarah’s final educational opportunity came through the Moravian Female Academy, which was located in Salem, North Carolina, approxi­ mately 500 miles from her home (Bumgarner, 1997: 17). Sarah traveled this distance on horseback with Susan, her brother Anderson, and an enslaved member of their household. There the sisters studied Greek and Roman literature, history, geography, English gram­ mar, and the Bible (Anthony, n.d.: para. 9).



sarah polk: ideas of her own

However, their education at the prestigious academy was not to last. After their father died unexpectedly on August 19, 1819, the sisters were called home. Sarah was just sixteen. Courtship, Marriage, and Family Although her return home was occasioned by grief, it was in Murfreesboro that Sarah had the opportunity to establish a relation­ ship with James. There are a variety of sto­ ries that surround their initial relationship and courtship. Some writers suggest that Sarah may have met James earlier in her life, when she was child. In fact Borneman (2009: 13) argues that “numerous Polk biographies have attempted—all unconvinc­ ingly—to link James and Sarah (romanti­ cally) at an earlier age.” Polk, eight years Sarah’s senior, had attended the Bradley Academy, as well the University of North Carolina‐Chapel Hill, with Sarah’s older brother, Anderson (Bumgarner, 1997: 24). Given the age difference, Borneman (2009: 13) asserts it is most likely that Sarah met James formally after she came home from the Moravian Academy, while he was work­ ing as clerk of the state senate in Murfreesboro, the state’s capital. After Polk graduated from the University of North Carolina in 1818, he began studying law in Nashville, under Felix Grundy, a noted attorney and political leader. When Grundy was elected to the legislature, he advised Polk that the position of senate clerk was available. Polk successfully contended for the position in 1819 and 1821; meanwhile he completed his studies, passed the bar, and opened his own practice in Columbia (Bergeron, 1987: 11). Polk was exceptionally busy but made time for important social gatherings. Some accounts indicate that he met Sarah at a reception attended by Felix Grundy and Andrew Jackson (Bumgarner, 1997: 24; Merry, 2009: 17). There James first saw

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Sarah talking to Jackson across a crowded drawing room and bounded off to meet her, but she left before he could approach her (Bumgarner, 1997: 24; Merry, 2009: 17). However, later in the evening, Anderson introduced James and Sarah, and then offered to give James a ride home in their carriage, where the pair continued to con­ verse (Bumgarner, 1997: 24; Merry, 2009: 17). Other accounts indicate that Andrew Jackson, whom Polk held in high esteem and regarded as a mentor and father figure, played a meaningful role in their union. The story is that Polk, frustrated in his role as law clerk, sought advice from Jackson regarding how to advance his political career. Jackson advised him to settle down and get married (Borneman, 2009: 13). Polk then asked whom he should marry and Jackson told him that he already knew the woman. It was Sarah, “one who will never give you any trouble,” and Jackson urged James to note, too, that “her wealthy family, education, health and appearance are all superior” (Borneman, 2009: 13; Bumgarner, 1997: 25). James did not waste time in fol­ lowing Jackson’s advice and, for her part, Sarah seems to have wanted to marry a man with political ambition. James quipped at their wedding that Sarah would not have married him if he had remained a lowly clerk in the senate (Seigenthaler, 2003: 26). Whatever the details of their early rela­ tionship, they formed a strong bond in their four‐year courtship. A Presbyterian pastor married Sarah and James on January 1, 1824 in Murfreesboro. Both the Polks and the Childresses were active Presbyterians; Sarah’s mother had brought Sarah up in the church and James’s mother, Jane, was simi­ larly observant. They enjoyed a large coun­ try wedding, with eight attendants and a seven‐course meal (Nelson and Nelson, 1892: 17; Bumgarner, 1997: 26). In the following days Sarah and James attended a series of celebratory gatherings with family and friends before they left for Columbia, Tennessee to mark the occasion with the

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Polk family and to settle into life there, close to her in‐laws. James’s father, Sam, provided the couple with a wedding gift that consisted of “a horse, a cart, a water barrel, a young male slave, and a two‐room house with slaves’ quarters” (Bumgarner, 1997: 26). As this gift list suggests, enslaved persons were a standard part of the Polk household. William Dusinberre (2003: 3), who pro­ vides an extensive treatment of the Polks as slave owners, states that James “was the product of the slave society of middle Tennessee.” More than that, Polk was an active participant and supporter of that sys­ tem; he held slaves throughout his life and in his death he bequeathed them to Sarah. Sadly, the Polks’ actions resulted in repeated disruption of the marriages and families of their enslaved, and myriad of those they held in bondage attempted mul­ tiple escapes (Dusinberre, 2003: 41–42; 103–104). Further, in an effort to stay within the presidential salary, Sarah insti­ tuted a cost‐saving measure that “included replacing ten salaried White House staff members with the Polks’ own slaves” (Thacker‐Estrada, 2003: 87). When Sarah became the proprietress of the family’s enslaved men and women upon James’s death, the infant death rate was higher than was typical on plantations and there is no indication that she worked to improve the situation (Bumgarner, 1997: 118). It is dif­ ficult to understand how Sarah could jus­ tify the use of slaves, especially considering her religious convictions. However, Bumgarner (1997: 27) suggests that it is precisely her religion that may have been the source of her justification: “there is much evidence that she did believe in pre­ destination, which … may have affected her views on slavery.” The Polks’ marriage coincided with James’s election to Tennessee state legisla­ ture (1823–1825), a position she encour­ aged him to take on. Subsequently he served as a member of the US House of

Representatives from Tennessee’s sixth (1825–1833), then ninth (1833–1839) congressional districts. As a result of his political service, James was frequently absent early in their marriage. Despite the loneliness this must have engendered, Sarah had a “steely dedication to her hus­ band’s political success” (Merry, 2009: 49). It is thought that she was willing to endure his absences because of her own dedication to their ascending the political ladder together and that “his ambition was abetted by her own aspirations” (Bumgarner, 1997: 27). Some historians surmise that Sarah’s ambition was due in part to the Polks’ childless marriage (Haynes, 2006: 25; Merry, 2009: 49). Robert Merry (2009: 49) states: “Without children to occupy her daily existence, she found her greatest employment in serving as political counselor to her ambitious hus­ band and mixing in the company of the nation’s most powerful men.” However, Betty Caroli (2010) offers a different view. Caroli maintains that Sarah’s personal let­ ters do not express anxiety over their lack of children but rather show a focus on her husband’s career and a deep concern for his health (Caroli, 2010: 62). Further, Carl Anthony (n.d.) indicates that the Polks had considerable family to occupy their time and on whom they could lavish any parental yearnings. Upon the death of James’s father, the Polks took responsibil­ ity for James’s younger siblings, and when several of James’s brothers passed in quick succession, they also looked after their nieces and nephews. For instance, they helped raise the troubled orphaned son of Marshall Polk, James’s brother. Moreover, the Polks had a series of family guests stay with them during James’s presidency, and some of them stayed so long that Bumgarner (1997: 97) quips that they appeared to have established a permanent residency. Later, after James’s death, Sarah assumed guardianship of her great‐niece Sally Jetton (Anthony, n.d.: para. 11–12).



sarah polk: ideas of her own

The Polks had an abundance of family to occupy their time; nonetheless, for Sarah, her role as her husband’s greatest political ally remained most important. There has been considerable spec­ ulation regarding the Polks’ childlessness. Throughout his life James struggled with his health, particularly with stomach ail­ ments and fatigue, as his diary reflects (Seigenthaler, 2003: 18). When he was sev­ enteen, James was diagnosed with kidney stones and his father determined that sur­ gery was necessary (Bumgarner, 1997: 29; Seigenthaler, 2003: 19–20). Some histori­ ans have erroneously reported that James underwent a cholecystectomy to remove gallstones, but Bumgarner (1997) and John Seigenthaler (2003) have carefully corrected the record. Sam, James’s father, arranged to have Dr. Philip Syng Physick, the leading surgeon at the time, operate on him. However, en route to Philadelphia for treat­ ment, James became so ill that he could not continue the long journey. The travelers headed instead to Dr. Ephraim McDowell in Danville, Kentucky, who performed what must have been an excruciating surgery to remove the kidney stones, since anesthesia was not available at the time. Although the surgery was successful, Seigenthaler (2003: 19) maintains that it could have resulted in sterility, impotency, or both. The lack of children did not disturb the Polks’ relationship but rather deepened it. Although Sarah and James were separated during the first year of his first term in Washington, it is clear from his correspond­ ence that he wanted her with him: “It is terribly lonely here without you, still I am glad I did not subject you to the hardships of the trip. However, this will be the last time I will be a Washington bachelor” (quoted in Bumgarner, 1997: 28). James was concerned that the long trip from Columbia to Washington would be unduly onerous for Sarah. However, he would soon bring his partner to Washington, much to her delight.

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Sarah Goes to Washington Rather than the trip to Washington being too much for Sarah, James found that she complained much less about the difficulties of the trip than he did (Merry, 2009: 27). In the capital, Sarah quickly became an asset to James, forging friendships with influen­ tial women and maintaining friendships with important men from both sides of the aisle during a particularly divisive time in American politics (Caroli, 2010: 63–65). She made sure to listen to debates and speeches in the House of Representatives (Roberts, 2003: 71). Merry (2009: 27) reports that Sarah “emerged as his conspic­ uous helpmate,” and “it was clear to friends and acquaintances that Polk was much enamored of his young wife.” Bumgarner (1997: 31) similarly asserts that Sarah “was a knowledgeable woman who understood the principal political issues of her day. She also learned to a remarkable degree just how and where the lines of political power and maneuvering lay.” Since sessions of Congress tended to run from December to March or April, it was not practical to purchase a permanent home (Borneman, 2009: 24). At the time, for convenience and to save money, politicians would room together in boarding houses and would take their meals in common areas. This arrangement enabled them to have some private space as well as some shared spaces, like a dining room and parlor, for meetings (Nelson and Nelson, 1892: 30). The common living arrangement made it possible for Sarah and James to get to know a variety of political friends and allies. Sarah’s personality proved to be an impor­ tant asset for James in these and other situa­ tions. Where James was reserved and formal, Sarah was outgoing and vivacious and made friends easily, including with congressional wives of the opposing Whig Party (Seigenthaler, 2003: 26; Nelson and Nelson, 1892: 45–51). Mrs. Polk was careful that her interactions and relationships remained

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appropriate at such close quarters and in such a small town. The stakes were high and she responded with grace and acumen. While she was very social, she would refrain from certain activities that she deemed unsuitable. For example, she declined an invitation from the wife of a Cabinet mem­ ber to attend the horse races, and she would not attend public events in the company of other men if James was not with her (Nelson and Nelson, 1892: 48–49). Biographers agree that she exhibited con­ siderable restraint and prudence for such a young woman. This was not simply politi­ cally efficacious; it also corresponded to her faith and upbringing (Peterson, 2002: 2). Thacker‐Estrada (2003: 89) states that Mr. Polk’s most frequent references to Mrs. Polk in his diary are about their mutual church attendance. James regularly accom­ panied his wife to Sunday services at the First Presbyterian Church. If James had v­isitors on Sundays, she would greet them in the parlor and ask them if they would like to accompany them to church. This often had the effect of ensuring that guests— p­articularly those who were there simply for work issues—left promptly when they sensed that she would appear. Since James’s health was often hampered by his consider­ able work ethic, Sarah’s habit attempted to protect her husband from working—at least one day a week. Although James attended weekly service with Sarah, he did not formally unite with any church until shortly before his death. This was out of respect for Sarah and his mother, both enthusiastic Presbyterians; James was drawn to Methodism. When campaigning for reelection in 1833, he heard John McFerrin, a Methodist preacher, deliver a sermon that greatly impressed him (Haynes, 2006: 32). If Sarah was away, he was known to visit a Methodist church (2006: 32), and on his deathbed he called on McFerrin to baptize him (Jenkins, 1850: 330). Although James thought religion should guide one’s life, he did not think it

should be worn on one’s sleeve, “scoured up like a rusty buckler [shield] for protec­ tion; nor be worn over the shoulders like a blanket for defence” (quoted in Jenkins, 1850: 331). While Sarah used the Sabbath to bring some balance to his life, Mr. Polk main­ tained a zealous dedication to his work, serving under the John Quincy Adams, Andrew Jackson, and Martin Van Buren administrations. Polk was appalled by the eventual outcome of the 1824 presidential election, when Andrew Jackson won a plu­ rality of the electoral and popular vote but no candidate earned a majority in the Electoral College. Congress’s “corrupt bar­ gain” saw Speaker of the House Henry Clay persuade the House to elect Adams, and Adams subsequently named Clay his secre­ tary of state. Polk not only opposed this arrangement, he was also very critical of the Adams administration and its proposals, and this did not endear him to the power struc­ ture of the time. In 1828 Andrew Jackson ran again for president, asserting that the people’s will had been ignored in the previous election. James campaigned actively for his mentor, even as he nursed Sarah, helping her to recover from a bad case of measles. The Polks’ long‐term friendship and loyalty to Andrew Jackson served James particularly well when Jackson was elected and then ree­ lected president. As Seigenthaler (2003: 43) states, “an attack dog legislator during the Adams years, now he would become the protector and defender of the Jackson administration.” This loyalty, combined with a scandal brewing in Washington early in the Jackson administration, seems the probable reason why the Polks made the tactical decision to have Sarah stay home in 1830–1831 rather than join James in Washington. Since James relied so heavily on Sarah’s support, this must have been a particularly difficult deci­ sion. It was made, presumably, as a result of a complex situation that involved Margaret



sarah polk: ideas of her own

(Peggy) O’Neale Eaton and her husband, Jackson’s Secretary of War John Eaton (Bumgarner, 1997: 38; Seigenthaler, 2003: 44). Andrew Jackson and John Eaton had lodged at the popular boardinghouse of Peggy’s father, William O’Neale, when they came to Washington as senators. They formed a friendly relationship with the fam­ ily, including Peggy. Shortly after Peggy’s first husband—John Timberlake, a naval officer—passed away at sea, Eaton married Peggy. However, it was thought that they had an affair before they were married. This supposition scandalized the Washington social circles, of which Peggy was now part. The wives of Washington officials, led by Vice President John Calhoun’s wife, Floride, rebuffed and scorned Peggy. This had the effect of enraging Jackson, who had encouraged Eaton to marry her. Jackson’s own wife, Rachel, had herself s­uffered vilification and scandal before her recent death in late 1828. Jackson demanded that Cabinet officials force their wives to treat Mrs. Eaton kindly and accept her; however, the wives would not be moved. Jackson cancelled Cabinet meet­ ings for weeks on end, greatly frustrating his allies, who were attempting to support his policies (Seigenthaler, 2003: 43). It appears that the Polks decided that it would be best if Sarah avoided entering the fray during this growing political debacle. However, when asked why she did not accompany James to Washington, she sim­ ply claimed that they were trying to econo­ mize (Bumgarner, 1997: 37). Meanwhile Floride Calhoun accused Sarah of social lax­ ity on the grounds that she would not join in persecuting Mrs. Eaton. Sarah stated that she did not want to disrespect the country by showing a lack of courtesy to the wife of one of the nation’s highest officials (1997: 37). The Polks were wise to recognize the contentiousness of the situation. Eventually members of the Cabinet either all resigned or were pressured to resign. In return for his own loyalty and staunch support, and for

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understanding when not to enter into cer­ tain situations, Mr. Polk gained prominence in the Jackson administration. In 1832 the president ensured that Polk had a seat on the influential Ways and Means Committee; he became its chair in 1833. In  his efforts on this committee, Polk was able to secure the eventual demise of the Second Bank of the United States, whose tight money poli­ cies Jackson blamed for the depression of 1819 (Seigenthaler, 2003: 31) and whose despotic potential both men feared (Haynes, 2006: 35). Further, both Jackson and Polk favored silver and gold over paper currency. Sarah had a different perspective on the issue, however, telling James, “you … are certainly mistaken about the bank question. Why if we must use gold and silver all the time, a lady can scarcely carry enough money with her” (quoted in Bumgarner, 1997: 35). The bank issue would eventually haunt the Democratic Party, when its poten­ tial benefits rather than its excesses would come into focus during the Panic of 1837. The new Whig Party exploited these politi­ cal issues so that it emerged as a powerful force in the 1830s. In 1835 James was voted in as Speaker of the House, a position he served in until 1839. This required James and Sarah to leave the boardinghouse and move into new quarters, so that no perceptions of impro­ priety would emerge as a result of keeping close quarters with members of the House. It was an advantageous but also difficult time for James, as his political opponents did as much as they could to unsettle him and obstruct his agenda. Two rivals in par­ ticular, John Quincy Adams and John Bell, repeatedly attempted to undermine his lead­ ership. He became exhausted from the con­ stant battle and looked to Sarah for her support. When Jackson’s term ended in 1837 and his democratic successor and ally Martin Van Buren (1837–1841) was victoriously elected, Sarah and James accompanied Jackson on his return to Tennessee. It was

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a triumphant homecoming; however, it would not assist Democrats when the Panic of 1837, which began a depression the likes of which the nation had not yet known, began to set in (Haynes, 2006: 46). The panic affected voting behavior and, in the summer election, the Whigs won ten of the state’s thirteen congressional seats, as well as the governor’s office (2006: 47). This prompted Tennessee Democrats to urge Polk to come home and run for gov­ ernor, in an attempt to reenergize the party. For his part, Polk saw his prospects in Washington as drawing to a dead end. He knew that he would need to turn Tennessee around if he was to have any chances of securing the vice presidential nomination, which was next on his agenda. Subsequently, Polk left Congress in 1839 to run for governor. Sarah helped orches­ trate his campaign. In this capacity, she managed his correspondence, kept him abreast of political developments, and ensured that he had fresh horses along his vast campaign routes (Haynes, 2006: 49). He would be gone for months at a time and Sarah would become restless with his absence. Ultimately, he won by a narrow margin in the hotly contested state. Leonard (2001: 31) argues that “his vigorous cam­ paign inspired 20,000 more Democrats to vote in this election than in the 1837 guber­ natorial contest and to contribute signifi­ cantly to the party’s regaining control of the state legislature and recapturing three con­ gressional seats.” Polk served as governor from 1839 to 1841. During this time, Laura Holloway notes of Sarah: By the winning gentleness which ever accompanied her fine social qualities, she attracted even those members of the Legislature who were among the oppo­ nents of Mr. Polk … Political rancor and animosity prevailed to an unprecedented degree … She lived above the warring ­elements that surrounded her. (Holloway, 1870: 442)

While governor, Polk actively sought the vice presidential nomination; he was supported in his efforts by his long‐time supporter, Jackson. The timing seemed good, as Van Buren’s vice president— Richard M. Johnson, a colonel in the War of 1812—was perceived as a political liabil­ ity. The public was aware that Johnson had a relationship with Julia Chinn, an enslaved woman he inherited from his father. Unlike other politicians who hid their relation­ ships with female slaves, Johnson treated her as his common law wife and had two daughters with her: Adeline and Imogene. Interracial marriage was banned in Kentucky at the time and, if Johnson had emancipated Chinn, she would have been required to leave the state. They remained together until her death from cholera in 1833 (Hatfield, 1997; Mallard, 2011). After her passing, it was rumored that Johnson had relationships with other African American women. Scandalous for the time, these relationships, combined with his drinking and dubious decision making—while vice president, he took a leave of absence to open a tavern—imper­ iled Johnson’s career. Other people, including Polk, were considered as alterna­ tives, but Van Buren was reluctant to drop the war hero from his ticket, fearing it would split the party. Meanwhile, the Whigs had their own war hero: Johnson’s former commander, General William Henry Harrison. Eventually Van Buren felt compelled to drop Johnson and ran without a running mate, but the economic situation had already doomed his reelec­ tion bid. Meanwhile the political winds in Tennessee had also changed, forcing James to campaign relentlessly for his reelection as governor. In newsy letters from home in Nashville, Sarah would keep James apprised of what was happening politically in his absence. In one letter dated April 10, 1841, however, she was not even sure where to send her letters, as James was traveling so



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much. She revealed her growing exhaustion at the whole effort:

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the perceived failures of his presidency and on account of his antislavery stance (which also included his opposition to the annexa­ tion of Texas). As a result, Jackson called Polk to the Hermitage and advised him that he was the man to unite the party. Polk was initially startled; in a letter to his lieutenant Cave Johnson he wrote: “I have never aspired so high” (quoted in Hayes, 2006: 61). However, he quickly became amenable to the idea. He advised party leaders that, if Van Buren did not win the nomination at the upcoming convention in Maryland, it would be fine to submit his name as a candi­ date. Given Van Buren’s unpopularity, a stalemate emerged at the convention over other suitable candidates; once the New York delegation supported Polk, however, the standoff was over, and Polk received unanimous support from his party (Haynes, 2006: 66–67). Called the first “dark horse” president, Polk has been described as an unlikely presidential candidate and as an unexpected president (Merry, 2009: 1). Sarah’s uncon­ ventionality, too, became the subject of some discussion during the campaign. According to Nelson and Nelson (1892), Sarah received word from her friend, Ophelia, that a certain female acquaintance said she hoped that Polk’s opponent, Henry Clay, would win because his wife was a good housekeeper and could make butter—an obvious critique of Sarah’s lack of commitment to the domestic sphere and, by extension, to traditional roles. Ophelia was offended at this remark, but Sarah laughed and replied:

Although his second defeat was devastating, Polk maintained his composure and was able to secure a resolution from his state, which endorsed his vice presidency during what he thought would be a Van Buren ticket in 1844. He also received, again, the backing of his long‐term friend Andrew Jackson. Soon, however, it became apparent that Van Buren had not secured sufficient support for the nomination, both because of

Go to‐morrow morning and tell Mrs. Blank that you are sorry for all those sharp replies you made, and tell her I said that if I should be so fortunate as to reach the White House, I expect to live on twenty‐five thousand dollars a year [referring to the presidential salary], and I will neither keep house nor make butter. This answer will not offend her, and neither will I be offended. (Quoted in Nelson and Nelson, 1892: 79–80)

I am not at all discouraged at anything I see in the papers or hear from any quarters, but when I think of the labor and fatigue you have to undergo I feel sad and melan­ choly and conclude that success is not worth the labor. (Quoted in Bumgarner, 1997: 51)

Sarah’s letter was prescient. Despite James’s strenuous efforts, James C. Jones, a more captivating campaigner, handed Polk his first defeat (Haynes, 2006: 53). Polk lost his seat in 1841 by 3,243 votes out of 103,000 cast; in a second attempt at reelection in 1843 he lost again to Jones, and by a bigger margin (Merry, 2009: 47). James’s long absences in the 1843 gubernatorial race were again trying for Sarah, who continued to keep him informed (Haynes, 2006: 54). At the same time she “worried about the effects the campaign would have on his health” (2006: 54). Twice rejected in his own state, at the age of forty‐seven, Polk began thinking seriously about his future as a politician. As Haynes (2006: 55) avers, “the defeat was the darkest moment of Polk’s career.” However, his wife continued to bolster him: “Sarah—his bulwark against misfortune—was at his side to encourage and convince him that his political career was far from over” (Bumgarner, 1997: 52).

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This response indicates Sarah’s congenial nature, but also her unwillingness to be goaded into supporting certain conven­ tional notions of womanhood. Polk won the election with 170 electoral votes to Clay’s 105; however, he barely won the popular vote, with 49.5 percent to Clay’s 48.1 percent. Still, he was the undis­ puted winner, and, when news broke that Polk had been elected the nation’s eleventh president (1845–1849), supporters besieged the Polks’ house. So many people came to congratulate them that one of Sarah’s friends was concerned that the crowds would ruin the carpets and furniture. Not surprisingly, the future first lady was not worried. Sarah supposedly said, “the house is thrown open to everybody. Let them all come in; they will not hurt the carpets” (quoted in Nelson and Nelson, 1892: 78). The next day, Sarah sent word that the visi­ tors “left no marks except marks of respect” (quoted in Nelson and Nelson, 1892: 78). For a variety of reasons, including the recognition that he was a compromise can­ didate and his own health limitations, Polk promised to be a one‐term president. He laid out clear objectives, all of which he met: he established an independent treasury, reduced the tariff, acquired California, and settled the Oregon boundary dispute. He also oversaw the annexation of Texas and the US–Mexican War (1846–1848), which cost approximately $100 million and resulted in the deaths of nearly 13,000 US men (Mexican losses are estimated to have doubled that figure). Although, as indicated at the start of this chapter, Polk is not one of our best known presidents, he has frequently been listed as one of the top ten most influ­ ential presidents in the nation’s history. In the Arthur M. Schlesinger poll of 1948, Polk was ranked tenth overall; when the poll was taken again in 1962, he was ranked at number eight. By all indications, he was a decisive and strong executive, who accom­ plished all the goals he set for himself. But he has also been referred to as paranoid,

ideologically inflexible, and interpersonally maladroit (Haynes, 2006). During Polk’s presidency meanwhile, Sarah achieved great popularity, with politi­ cians and with the broader public alike. John Seigenthaler (2003: 116) states that Mrs. Polk “possessed all the natural social elegance that her husband lacked. She had charm, wit, and poise.” Sarah’s manage­ ment of the White House administration earned her round praise even from her hus­ band’s political rivals—like Henry Clay, who affirmed: “All agree in commending in the highest terms your excellent administration of the domestic affairs of the White House” (quoted in Thacker‐Estrada, 2003: 87). Such popularity is notable, since she was perceived as independent‐minded, a trait not valued in women of the period: “Mrs. Polk became mistress of the White House with ideas of her own as to what was the proper course to pursue in that capacity” (New York Times, 1891: para. 6). However, she also deployed her “femininity and respectability” in order to deflect “contro­ versy regarding her political interests and activities” (Thacker Estrada, 2003: 88). John Stilwell Jenkins (1850: 55–56) speaks to her ability to combine her ambitions with the norms then required for women: “Affable, but dignified; intelligent, but unaffected; frank and sincere … she won the regard of all who approached her.” Sarah was also shrewd in determining how to manage social situations so as to best serve her husband and his goals. Haynes (2006) discusses how Sarah’s social acumen and leadership at receptions were political assets to President Polk. She was “much more comfortable in such settings than her socially maladroit husband,” he notes, and, despite unpopular decisions like banning dancing (she considered it “indecorous”), Sarah continued her earlier success at reaching out to political opponents like Clay and Charles Sumner, who may have despised her hus­ band but “confessed after a visit to the White House that the first lady’s ‘sweetness



sarah polk: ideas of her own

of manner, won me entirely’” (Haynes, 2006, 84–85). Sarah was so well liked that people were willing to overlook some of her idiosyncra­ sies. Along with placing an embargo on dancing, she also prohibited hard liquor, which was much missed by her visitors (although wine was permitted). Indeed her view on spirits earned her the nickname “Sahara Sarah.” Additionally, she did not allow bands to play on the Sabbath. She always kept that day holy, and this contin­ ued to provide James with a needed respite from his onerous self‐imposed work sched­ ule, as was her wont (Roberts, 2003: 74). Bumgarner (1997: 66) asserts that, by today’s standards, both Sarah and James would be considered workaholics. Although Sarah was roundly liked and was said to have had a generous spirit, there were some who tested her patience, such as Martin Van Buren’s son, John, who was loudly critical of Polk’s administration. He made it known that he thought Polk was the reason why his father had not been elected to a second term. Further, and perhaps more importantly, when he came to visit Mr. Polk, he did not take the time to ade­ quately acknowledge Mrs. Polk. Despite these missteps, James continued to invite him to dinner. Sarah, though, repeatedly removed his name from guest lists. She even burned an invitation that Mr. Polk had writ­ ten to Van Buren before it left in the mail (Bumgarner, 1997: 66). Despite this minor difference of opinion, the trust that Mr. Polk put into Sarah was well known. Politicians respected her for her intellect and noted her influence. Vice President George Dallas wrote in a letter to his wife: “She is certainly mistress to herself, and I suspect, of somebody else also” (quoted in Thacker‐Estrada, 2003: 86). In addition to administering the affairs of the White House and ensuring that the Polks’ lived within the salary provided for the pres­ ident, John Roberts II (2003: 74) reports that Sarah “wrote and rewrote her

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husband’s speeches, reported to him after sounding out the opinions of influential members of Congress at political receptions and official dinners, and traveled with him on presidential trips.” Additionally, Thacker‐ Estrada (2003: 87) reports that President Polk asked Sarah to use her knowledge of political affairs to determine which articles he should read, since his duties left him little time for such research. Because of her politi­ cal awareness, Sarah was known to join dis­ cussions with her husband and the other men after dinner, abandoning the women’s separate conversations (Peterson, 2002: 47, 50–51). A number of historians have explored Sarah’s efforts to conform to the prescriptions for proper behavior in a female of the mid‐nineteenth century while remain­ ing true to her desire to be involved in pub­ lic affairs. Barbara Bennett Peterson (2002: 63) argues that Sarah “was perhaps the very first First Lady to combine effectively the traditional woman’s role as wife, with a political role as Presidential political part­ ner.” Sarah was aware that social conven­ tions of the day limited woman’s sphere of influence. Consequently, she was judicious regarding how she presented her informa­ tion—as Thacker‐Estrada (2003: 86) notes: “Sarah was careful to preface her opinions with ‘Mr. Polk thinks that…’ or ‘Mr. Polk believes that…’”—so as not to overstep the boundaries that circumscribed women’s lives. She also conducted herself with the utmost probity and femininity, which served as a counterbalance to her political partici­ pation and activity (Thacker‐Estrada, 2003: 88). At the time, the cult of “true woman­ hood” confined women to the domestic sphere and required them to demonstrate piousness and submission to men (Campbell, 1989: 10–11). Sarah exceeded the limits of true womanhood, also known as the “cult of domesticity,” by eschewing domestic responsibilities and taking on a keen interest in political affairs. However, her femininity, sociality, and virtue conformed to tradi­ tional expectations, which likely gave her

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some space for stretching herself on other fronts. Haynes states that, as a young woman of keen intelligence and quick wit, she had the ability to speak her mind without seeming outspoken, [and] to assert herself without defying the boundaries of convention that so narrowly defined roles for women in the early dec­ ades of the nineteenth century. (Haynes, 2006: 14)

Her need to balance her ambitions with the roles that were available to women at the time might be why she did not openly support women’s rights or any unpopular or unconventional causes (Peterson, 2002: 61). It was not unusual for childless women like Sarah, or women in general, to be attacked for extending themselves into any affairs that exceeded the home. Although the Seneca Falls Convention, a notable early women’s rights convention, was held in 1848, Sarah did not attend it. However, she encouraged James to address the group. He did not do so, ostensibly because of his work schedule (Bumgarner, 1997: 95; Peterson, 2002: 41).

The Death of Two Political Careers Sarah had long worried about James’s health and urged him to rest more. Near the end of his presidency it became clear that his physi­ cal condition would not have enabled him to run for a second term, even if he had wanted to do so. Both Sarah and James struggled with frequent bouts of malaria, which likely came from mosquitos that swarmed around the Potomac and the canal outside the south side of the White House (Bumgarner, 1997: 94). This combined with his overwork, frequent exhaustion, and stomach ailments, so that James needed a rest in 1848. In his diary, James was clear regarding his feelings about the end of his

duties: “I am heartily rejoiced that my term is so near its close” (quoted in Haynes, 2006: 201). According to Haynes (2006: 201), “Polk’s health, never robust, had deteriorated under the burdens of high office. His face creased and careworn, the president looked far older than his 52 years.” Both Sarah (then only forty‐five) and James looked forward to his retirement. However, this would come only after a long farewell tour. Rather than take a direct route home, James was persuaded to embark on a long tour across the southern states in which supporters could bid their farewell. James was not well enough to endure this trip, however. He was already sick with a cold and exhausted when he left. The dusty train trips, the long coach rides in varying weather, and the extensive social engagements served to further deplete his waning physical resources. In addition, when the Polks were in Alabama, they learned that there was a cholera epidemic in New Orleans. They continued on to Mobile, when a passenger on their boat, The Emperor, died—ostensibly as the result of cholera. They both decided it was best to end the farewell tour early at New Orleans and head straight home (Bumgarner, 1997: 104–105). The Polks had purchased a mansion in Nashville, now the capital of their state, which the president named Polk Place. Once home, James rested; however, he con­ tinued to attend social engagements that likely drained his energy. Additionally, he worked on overseeing the remodeling of the mansion and organized his papers. Despite his activity, he appeared to gain strength. In May 1849 James learned that his nephew, Sam Caldwell, was staying at a nearby hotel, suffering from a mild bout of cholera. Because it appeared that his sickness was not terribly severe, the Polks invited him to their home. Sam recovered, but, on June 3, James started showing symptoms of cholera. His doctors administered treatment, but James



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did not respond. Knowing that his end was near, he called Reverend McFerrin to administer baptismal rights to gain entry into the Methodist Church. He passed on June 15, 1849 in Nashville, Tennessee. Holloway (1870: 457) states, “the sympa­ thizing attention paid to Mrs. Polk in her grief, was universal. From every distin­ guished lady and gentlemen of her wide acquaintance she received letters of condo­ lence and consolation.” Since the couple had spent the past twenty‐five years together as each other’s close companions, James’s death was extremely difficult for Sarah. She outlived James by forty‐two years, wearing black for the rest of her life to demonstrate her mourning. After spending some time with her mother after his death, she returned to Polk Place and devoted her attention to pre­ serving James’s memory. Bumgarner (1997: 116) asserts: “Sarah turned the inside of the Polk mansion into a memorial for her dead husband. James’s study was precisely as he had left it. His papers, his books, and his pen were displayed just as he had left them.” Additionally, she donated many artifacts to the Tennessee Historical Society. Guests would come to visit Sarah as well as Polk’s grave, which was originally part of a mass grave for cholera victims; he was later exhumed and buried in the front yard of the property. A bright spot in what must have been a very difficult period for Sarah was her taking over guardianship of her great‐niece, Sarah “Sally” Jetton. She raised Sally as her own child. In order to maintain an income, Sarah began to oversee, from a distance, the Mississippi cotton plantation that James had planned on using for their retirement income. At her request, John Mairs, the plantation’s overseer, wrote monthly letters that documented the status of the planta­ tion between 1849 and 1858. For reasons not entirely known, but with impeccable timing, Sarah sold her cotton plantation in

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Mississippi in 1860 (Anthony, n.d.: para. 40). Although overall Mrs. Polk made a profit from the plantation, the proceeds were uneven; to judge from the letters from Mr. Mairs, there seemed to be frequent problems, such as drought or heavy rains, the boll weevil, and the poor health of her slaves (Bumgarner, 1997: 130–131). Additionally, as tensions between the North and the South exacerbated, Mrs. Polk may well have perceived the problem of continu­ ing on as a plantation owner. When the Civil War broke out and Tennessee seceded from the Union on June 8, 1861, Sarah publicly maintained a neutral stance. During the Civil War, Polk Place thus became a resting place for northerners and southerners alike (Borneman, 2009: 359). When Fort Donaldson fell and Union soldiers occupied Nashville, General Buell, their commander, came to visit Mrs. Polk. Further, she also received a visit from General William Sherman, who questioned her loyalty to the Union. Satisfied with her responses, the Union men gave Mrs. Polk deferential treatment, which included an ambulance, a guard, and an officer to travel with her to her sick mother in Murfreesboro (Bumgarner, 1997: 133). Holloway (1870: 467) argues: “She suffered in common with the people of the South, losing much of her valuable property, but was fortunately left with sufficient means to enable her to live in her usual style of comfort.” Meanwhile the war and disease had ravaged Nashville. Efforts at rebuilding after the war were slow. Some felt that Sarah could have done much more to uplift the spirits of the citizens, but she chose instead to be a recluse (Bumgarner, 1997: 139). Outside of regular church attendance and of receiving the many visitors who came to see her, Sarah was largely quiescent in her remaining years. One way in which she did contribute to the broader culture was to receive visitors; however, she would not return visits. One visitor who called on

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Mrs. Polk was Frances Willard, the presi­ dent of the Women’s Christian Temperance Movement (WCTU). Although in her advanced age she did not attend their meet­ ings, Mrs. Polk supported the organiza­ tion’s efforts. Peterson (2002: 76) states that Polk and Willard “would sit in the par­ lor of Polk Place and discuss strategies to end drinking in America, creating a dry environment so that children and their par­ ents could share more finances at home devoted to their needs.” In 1887 the WCTU convened in Nashville and a large group went to Polk Place to meet Mrs. Polk (Bumgarner, 1997: 148). Upon Sarah’s death, Willard wrote a gracious letter to Sally, Sarah’s great‐niece, expressing her appreciation and gratitude for Sarah’s ser­ vice to the country and her “Christian example” (1997: 153). Sarah hoped that a trusted source would take Mr. Polk’s papers and write a deserv­ ing history of his life. Unsuccessfully, she encouraged Ransom Hooker Gillet, a con­ temporary of Polk in Congress who had garnered treasury posts from Polk during his presidency, to write his biography (Library of Congress, 1969: xi). She had more luck with the elderly George Bancroft, who had served Polk as secretary of the navy and minister to Great Britain. However, when he died in January 1891, Bancroft left only an incomplete 86‐page biographical sketch of Polk (1969: xii). When Mrs. Polk passed away approximately eight months later, it became clear that she had done little to preserve her own history. She was content to let her legacy be that which she had built together with James. Given the myriad talents that she demon­ strated during James’s life, this disap­ pointed some, who had hoped that she would take on some sort of political life of her own after his passing. Holloway (1870: 461), for example, provides a critical but perceptive interpretation of Sarah’s later years that highlights the privilege Mrs. Polk experienced growing up in the plantation

economy of the South and “being accus­ tomed from infancy to be served by the hands of slaves.” Holloway argues: As Mrs. Polk grows older her life becomes more devout and retired. She is not, nor ever has been, an active worker in any­ thing. For the system under which she was reared, in common with the higher class of southern people, unfitted her for the pur­ suits of industry. (Holloway, 1870: 461)

This privilege, Holloway asserts, along with her strict Christian values and tendency towards seclusion, resulted in inactivity: Mrs. Polk’s position in her native State and in the South were such that her means of doing good were immense … She might have been a Roland or a Nightingale. She chose rather to be the representative of her husband’s name and greatness. (Holloway, 1870: 462–463)

Responding to Holloway’s assessment, Bumgarner (whose contrasting arguments for Sarah’s work ethic were also noted ear­ lier in this chapter) is more generous in his consideration of Mrs. Polk’s later years. He notes that, if she then “chose … to be the representative of her husband’s name … and was satisfied to rest in his shadow,” she had already “earned her own place in history” (Bumgarner, 1997: 120). Regardless of one’s interpretation, it is clear that, in the many years that passed after James’s death, Sarah was content to live a quiet life while she raised Sally as her own child. In the end, it was Sally who was at her side when she passed away on August 14, 1891.

Sarah Polk’s Legacy In assessing Sarah’s legacy, presidential ­historians affirm her deep contribution  to James Polk’s political life (Borneman, 2009;



sarah polk: ideas of her own

Haynes, 2006: 25; Merry, 2009; Seigenthaler, 2003). Entries regarding Sarah in collec­ tions on first ladies similarly identify her notable political acumen, affable and dis­ ciplined nature, work ethic, and ample material and emotional support of James (Anthony, n.d.; Caroli, 2010; Roberts, 2003; Thacker‐Estrada, 2003). Further, she has been called “one of the most politically influential women to have occupied the White House” (Roberts, 2003: 69). Unfor­ tunately, while James Polk left extensive diaries regarding his daily life, Sarah left few written materials. Considering her importance to the history of first ladies, one would think there would be more book‐length texts written about her, but the absence of primary source materials has made the task difficult. Of those books that exist, at least one has been cast as “dubious,” further complicating efforts to gain an accurate portrayal of her (Borneman, 2009: 364). While strides have been made in this regard, many details of Sarah’s life remain disappointingly obscure. Shortly after Sarah’s death, Anson and Fanny Nelson (1892) wrote a chronologi­ cal memorial of her life that was based on their acquaintance with her. Nelson and Nelson provide a detailed overview of Sarah’s life, which includes personal anec­ dotes that otherwise would have been lost to history and that assist in fleshing out her experiences and character. However, their book draws on assumptions typical of its era. For example, they state: “Mrs. Polk’s example of womanly purity and dignity is a valuable legacy to her country” (Nelson and Nelson, 1892: v). Discussing her purity, as opposed to her tangible accom­ plishments, highlights the pervasive cult of true womanhood, common to the period; audiences today will note the antiquated values inherent in such a statement. Moreover, the book is written by friends of Mrs. Polk; correspondingly, it provides little critical interpretation of her life. One

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can discern a characteristically approving stance in the following statement, which is also full of the attributes then considered admirable for women and overlooks the ways in which she was a forceful presence in her husband’s life: Her modesty, her self‐control, her unpre­ tentious demeanor in the highest station, her jealous care for the rights and feelings of others, her unfailing respect for the sim­ ple yet grand institutions of the country and her unbroken reverence for all things sacred, are models worthy of imitation by all her countrywomen. (Nelson and Nelson, 1892: v)

Nonetheless, important details are pro­ vided in this biography—details drawn closely after Sarah’s death—and therefore the book emerges as a meaningful chroni­ cle of her life. Jimmy Lou Sparkman Claxton’s (1972) Eighty‐eight Years with Sarah Polk gives an overview of Sarah Polk’s life that is ­supplemented by fiction. Since there is so little information on Mrs. Polk, it is unfor­ tunate when that information is suffused with unfounded stories. On the front cover flap, the publisher confirms the fictional supplementation in the text: “Drawing upon the vast resources of published and unpublished accounts of the lady’s life and times, and resorting to her fertile imagina­ tion where assiduous research failed her, Mrs. Claxton has succeeded in painting an unforgettable portrait.” Perhaps this is why Borneman (2009: 364) calls Claxton’s account “dubious” and casts suspicion on the work of authors who draw upon it or present her work as factual. Although brief, Barbara Bennett Peterson’s (2002) 80‐page overview of Sarah’s life is useful and informative, provid­ ing an important contribution to under­ standing the first lady’s role in history. However, it also occasionally bears the marks of older, unreflexive gender norms in statements such as “She was a significant

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role model for feminine virtues, as was her husband … a symbol of masculine lead­ ership” (Peterson, 2002: 74) or “James K. Polk was an excellent man’s man” (2002: 78). The marked difference in gender expec­ tations today by comparison to the Polks’ time requires some acknowledgement, as understanding the social construction of gender lends insight into the choices Mrs. Polk was required to make in the culture of her period. The use of antiquated, essential­ ist terminology positions the book as anach­ ronistic. Additionally, Peterson tends to provide a whitewashed account of the Polks as slave owners, a record that has been cor­ rected by Dusinberre (2003). Peterson also glosses over problems in the Polk family. Referring to the relatives whom the Polks aided upon the death of other family mem­ bers, Peterson states that their “maternal and paternal instincts were rewarded as each of these children cared for by the Polks became outstanding citizens” (Peterson, 2002: 33). This rosy assessment ignores the criminal behavior of Marshall Tate Polk Junior, James’s nephew, who was long a troubled soul. Perhaps the fullest and most accurate account of Sarah’s life available to research­ ers at present is Bumgarner’s (1997) Sarah Childress Polk: A Biography of the Remarkable First Lady. Bumgarner draws on myriad resources to provide an account of Sarah’s life that is not available else­ where. Occasionally, Bumgarner draws upon Claxton’s account of Mrs. Polk’s life, but he largely uses reputable sources, including many of Sarah’s letters. His is one of the best critical accounts currently available on Mrs. Polk. More documentation of Sarah Polk’s life remains to be accomplished. The seeming lack of primary source materials makes this task difficult indeed. What can be gleaned about her life must be gained through letters that have been written by and to her, as well as about her. Readers of history would profit from a full‐length,

scholarly biography that includes no fictional elements, antiquated terminol­ ­ ogy, or whitewashing of Sarah’s life, as her  story is sufficiently gripping to be simply told.

References Anthony, C. n.d. “First Lady Biography: Sarah Polk.” National First Ladies’ Library. http:// www.firstladies.org/biographies/firstladies. aspx?biography=12 (accessed December 22, 2013). Bergeron, P. 1987. The Presidency of James K. Polk. Lawrence: University Press of Kansas. Borneman, W. 2009. Polk: The Man Who Transformed the Presidency and America. New York: Random House. Bumgarner, J. 1997. Sarah Childress Polk: A Biography of the Remarkable First Lady. Jefferson, NC: McFarland. Campbell, K. 1989. Man Cannot Speak for Her, vol. 1: A Critical Study of Early Feminist Rhetoric. Westport, CT: Praeger. Caroli, B. 2010. First Ladies: From Martha Washington to Michelle Obama. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Claxton, J. L. S. 1972. Eighty‐eight Years with Sarah Polk. New York: Vantage. Dusinberre, W. 2003. Slavemaster President: The Double Career of James Polk. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Hatfield, M., with the Senate Historical Office. 1997. Vice Presidents of the United States, 1789–1993. Washington, DC: US Government Printing Office. Haynes, S. 2006. James K. Polk and the Expansionist Impulse, 3rd edn. New York: Pearson Education. Holloway, L. 1870. The Ladies of the White House. New York: US Publishing Company. Jenkins, J. 1850. The Life of James Knox Polk: Late President of the United States. Hudson: P. S. Wynkoop. Leonard, T. 2001. James K. Polk: A Clear and Unquestionable Destiny. Wilmington, DE: Scholarly Resources. Library of Congress. 1969. Index to the James K. Polk Papers. Washington, DC: Library of Congress.



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Mallard, M. 2011. “Chinn, Julia Ann (ca. 1790–1833).” BlackPast.org: An Online Reference Guide to African American History. http://www.blackpast.org/aah/chinn‐julia‐ ann‐ca‐1790‐1833 (accessed July 15, 2014). Merry, R. 2009. A Country of Vast Designs: James K. Polk, the Mexican War, and the Conquest of the American Continent. New York: Simon & Schuster. Nelson, A., and F. Nelson. 1892. Memorials of Sarah Childress Polk. Newtown, CT: American Political Biography Press. New York Times. 1891. “Sarah Childress Polk: Obituary.” New York Times, August 15.

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Peterson, B. B. 2002. Sarah Childress Polk: First Lady of Tennessee and Washington. Huntington, NY: Nova History. Roberts II, J. 2003. Rating the First Ladies. New York: Citadel Press. Seigenthaler, J. 2003. James K. Polk. New York: Times Books. Thacker‐Estrada, E. 2003. “True Women: The Roles and Lives of Antebellum Presidential Wives Sarah Polk, Margaret Taylor Abigail Filmore, and Jane Pierce.” In The Presidential Companion: Readings on the First Ladies, edited by R. Watson and A. Eksterowicz, 77–101. Columbia: University of South Carolina Press.

Chapter Eleven

Margaret Taylor, Abigail Fillmore, and Jane Pierce: Three Antebellum Presidents’ Ladies Elizabeth Lorelei Thacker‐Estrada

From 1849 to 1857, three very different women from separate regions of the coun­ try served successively as first lady during the presidential administrations of their husbands. Margaret Mackall Smith Taylor (1788–1852) was the wife of career soldier and Louisiana plantation owner Zachary Taylor (1784–1850), who died just sixteen months after taking office. Abigail Powers Fillmore (1798–1853), a former school­ teacher, was married to New York lawyer and former Congressman Millard Fillmore (1800–1874), Taylor’s vice president and successor. Jane Means Appleton Pierce (1806–1863), a New Hampshire gentle­ woman, was wedded to attorney and former US Senator Franklin Pierce (1804–1869), who served one full term as president. On July 19 and 20, 1848, approximately three hundred people gathered for the first women’s rights convention in Seneca Falls, New York. Six weeks earlier, Zachary Taylor, “Old Rough and Ready,” a hero of the recently concluded Mexican–American War, had been nominated for the presidency of the United States. During this period of

nascent American feminism, General Taylor’s horse, Old Whitey, received more public attention than did his wife of nearly forty years despite the fact that, as Taylor would tell Jefferson Davis, his former son‐in‐law, Margaret was “as much of a soldier as I was!” (quoted in Davis, 1893: 21). Writings and publications about first ladies reflect the evolving roles of American women over time, the changing public interest in and societal expectations of presidential wives, and the historical contro­ versies and disputes arising from these first ladies’ roles—or lack of them—in their husbands’ presidencies. That a warhorse would receive more recognition than a presidential candidate’s wife illustrates the cultural mindset of the mid‐nineteenth century, which consigned upper‐ and middle‐ class white women, including first ladies, to a private, domestic sphere separate from their husbands’ public and professional world. This attitude and the lack of con­ temporary information about these women shaped the biographical representations and historical reputations of the last three

A Companion to First Ladies, First Edition. Edited by Katherine A. S. Sibley. © 2016 John Wiley & Sons, Inc. Published 2016 by John Wiley & Sons, Inc.



m a r g a r e t tay l o r , a b i g a i l f i l l m o r e , a n d   j a n e p i e r c e

presidential wives who lived in the White House before the American Civil War (1861–1865). Compared to the celebrated wives of the revolutionary founding‐father presidents— Martha Washington, Abigail Adams, and Dolley Madison—and to the increasingly publicized first ladies since the Civil War era of Mary Lincoln, these mid‐nineteenth century presidents’ wives have historically been mar­ ginalized. The loss of much of their corre­ spondence (especially that between the wives and their husbands), the lack of contemporary newspaper and periodical coverage, their absence from government documents, and the still debated legacies of their husbands’ brief administrations have shrouded the lives of these reserved women in an especially pro­ nounced obscurity. Their immediate prede­ cessor, Sarah Polk, the wife of President James K. Polk, and their successor, Harriet Lane, the niece of bachelor President James Buchanan, both of whom survived for decades after their White House years, are better documented and more renowned. Thus writing about the lives of Mrs. Taylor, Mrs. Fillmore, and Mrs. Pierce poses a challenge for biographers. Only relatively recently has an interest in women’s history, social history, and the private life of families been applied to the study of these antebellum presidential wives. Despite differences, all three have come down in history as little more than invalids who shunned the spotlight. Often viewed as irrelevant to their husbands’ administrations, their contributions, many of which took place behind the scenes, have garnered them little notice, even though they lived in the White House at a time when presidents and first ladies lacked a professional cadre of advisors and assistants. Biographers, accepting the antebellum expectations of the women who lived in the President’s House, have primarily judged these first ladies for their performance in the role of White House hostess, despite the decline in importance of  this function since the mid‐nineteenth century. Rarely have any changes in the role

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that each woman played during her husband’s tenure been acknowledged. Yet a closer examination of the extant sources reveals that the three first ladies discussed here—despite their reluctance, injuries, illnesses, and reputations as conva­ lescents—were more active than historians and biographers have acknowledged. In the White House all hosted prominent statesmen, while Mrs. Fillmore and Mrs. Pierce interacted with famous authors and noted reformers. Mrs. Taylor and Mrs. Fillmore managed the presidential home. Most notably, Abigail established its first official library with her husband. Mrs. Pierce successfully prevailed upon Franklin to release an antislavery leader from prison. During the Taylor (1849–1850), Fillmore (1850–1853), and Pierce (1853–1857) administrations, the husbands grappled with tensions that threatened the delicate balance of power between the slaveholding southern states and the free‐labor northern states. Both the deepening, violent rift over expanding slavery to the new western terri­ tories won in the Mexican–American War and the military actions of adventurers to conquer territory in Latin America in order to enlarge a southern slave empire endan­ gered the Union and risked international crises. In contrast to southern radicals and abolitionist northerners, these three pro‐ Union presidents regarded the preservation of the United States as paramount. While their husbands dealt with the rough‐and‐tumble public political world, the three first ladies were expected to obey the restrictions of the “cult of true woman­ hood” or “cult of domesticity.” Ideally, women were to practice the four cardinal virtues of piety, purity, domesticity, and submissiveness (Welter, 1976: 21). A study of the lives of these presidential wives illustrates a gentler, more cultured United States, marked by the practice of religious faith, the blossoming of a distinctly American literature and music, the growth of libraries and schools, and the rise of social reform

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that challenged both the slaveholding and the hard‐drinking practices of much of the population. Following the Civil War, when public attention began to turn to women in gen­ eral and to first ladies in particular, two women, Elizabeth Ellet and Laura Carter Holloway, wrote the first books that fea­ ture—posthumously—these three presi­ dents’ wives—one, a history of Washington society; the other, a collective biography of first ladies. In her 1869 book Court Circles of the Republic, or the Beauties and Celebrities of the Nation, Elizabeth Ellet, the “first his­ torian of American women,” recorded the social life of 18 presidents, from George Washington to Ulysses S. Grant. Ellet main­ tained that the major differences between presidential administrations could be traced to the people surrounding each president, and “most of all to the ladies who ruled in the fashionable coteries, and gave the laws in assemblages, dress, and entertainments.” One example was Mrs. Fillmore, who “presided­with great dignity and the demeanor­of a high‐bred lady” at “all public receptions and official dinner parties” (Ellet, 1869: iii–iv, 444). Unfortunately for future biographers, Ellet believed that listing the vast “variety of sources” she consulted, including letters, journals, and family papers—quite possibly many that are now missing—would be “tedious” (1869: iv). Socially active during the three administra­ tions, Ellet was privy to inside knowledge and society gossip about the Executive Mansion (that is, the White House) and its inhabitants. The first author to write a collective biography strictly about US first ladies was Laura Carter Holloway, who later remarried and took the name Langford. Published in 1870, the popular book The Ladies of the White House would go through several editions and satisfy a previously unmet public desire for information about presiden­ tial wives. Not only did Holloway use contemporary biographies of the presidents

in her research, she corresponded with family members of the first ladies, including Millard Fillmore and Franklin Pierce, as well as with friends and other eyewitnesses to the administrations. Holloway tended to stress accomplishments and character more than social niceties in her biographical sketches of the three women. Ellet’s and Holloway’s books provided the basic background information about these three first ladies that would be used by subsequent biographers. Over the intervening decades, new information about them came to light in memoirs and correspondence by their friends and acquaintances, collective biographies of first ladies, well‐researched biographies of their husbands, social histories of Washington, DC, scholarly essays about these presidents’ wives, and books on Jane Pierce. Several of these works will be discussed here in the separate sections devoted to each first lady and in a segment on collective studies. Margaret Taylor’s Biography Born in Calvert County, Maryland, on September 21, 1788, on the tobacco plan­ tation of her parents Ann Mackall Smith and Walter Smith, Margaret was one of seven children—three boys and four girls. She received practical training in domestic duties rather than an “intellectual” education (Holloway, 1870: 468–469). After her mother died when she was only ten years old, Margaret often stayed at the nearby estate of her maternal grandparents. With the death of her father in 1804, Margaret moved to Louisville, Kentucky, to live with a sister. Here the slender young lady met the stocky, brown‐haired US army lieutenant Zachary Taylor, a second cousin of President James Madison. Zachary was born in Barboursville, Virginia, to a prominent family of planters. In 1808 he was commis­ sioned a US army officer. The young couple married on June 21, 1810.



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For almost four decades, Mrs. Taylor lived an itinerant life, accompanying her husband on his army assignments across much of the American frontier. First experiencing military life at Fort Knox at Vincennes, Indiana Territory, Margaret would live in Kentucky, Mississippi, Louisiana, present‐day Minnesota and Wisconsin, Missouri, and Florida, before at last settling in her own cabin in Baton Rouge, Louisiana in the 1840s. She gave birth to daughters Ann Mackall in 1811, Sarah Knox in 1813, Octavia Pannel in 1816, and her namesake, Margaret Smith, in 1819. In 1820 Mrs. Taylor and her daughters Octavia and Margaret fell seriously ill with bilious fever, and the two girls died. Although Mrs. Taylor recovered, from then on Zachary’s letters described her as “delicate.” Margaret bore two more children: in 1824 Mary Elizabeth, known as Betty, and in 1826 Richard, the couple’s only son, who would become a lieutenant general in the confederate army. In June 1835 Sarah Knox married Jefferson Davis, a young army lieutenant; but tragedy struck again just three months later, when Sarah died of malaria in Louisiana. Wherever they were stationed, Margaret created a home life for her family. Her daughter Sarah recalled her mother going about her “domestic concerns—down in the cellar skim[m]ing the milk or going to feed the chickens” (quoted in Hamilton, 1941: 108). Margaret did her part in times of war as well. On December 25, 1837, she oversaw the care of the wounded at the battle of Lake Okeechobee, Florida, during the Second Seminole War, for which Zachary won promotion to the rank of brigadier general. When the Mexican– American War broke out in 1846, Margaret stayed at her home, at the garrison in Baton Rouge where, as the wife of the commanding general, she and her daughter Betty calmed soldiers’ anxious wives. Designating a room in the garrison buildings for use as a chapel, Margaret secured the services of a rector, and in later years this led to the establishment of

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a permanent congregation, now known as St. James Episcopal Church. Zachary rose to the rank of major general and became the “Hero of Buena Vista,” a battle that his forces won in Mexico. Margaret is said to have taken a vow that, if Zachary returned from the war, she would shun a life of fashion and never go out in society again (Hamilton, 1951: 25). This may explain her subsequent avoidance of public appearances in the White House. The Life of Major General Zachary Taylor, written by John Frost in 1847, a year before Zachary Taylor’s presidential nomination, refers to Margaret only in a footnote, never using her first name and inaccurately iden­ tifying her as just “a lady of Virginia.” But “Taylor’s Pony,” Old Whitey, is accorded seven paragraphs (Frost, 1847: 25, 284– 285). The book A Life of Gen. Zachary Taylor, published in the same year, perpet­ uates the theme of frailty. The author, J.  Reese Fry, notes that Zachary took a temporary absence from his command “when recalled by the illness of his wife” (Fry, 1847: 30). After his victory in the war, Zachary Taylor wrote that his wife was in “very delicate health” and “decidedly opposed” to his involvement in politics (quoted in Dyer, 1946: 275). Both Ellet and Holloway concur that Margaret opposed Zachary’s presidential candidacy, as she believed it “was a plot to deprive her of his society, and shorten his life by unnecessary care and responsibility” (Holloway, 1870: 484). She “prayed nightly that someone other than Zachary Taylor would succeed James K.  Polk” (Hamilton, 1951: 25). When a supporter of his rival, the Democrat Lewis Cass, not recognizing the general, asked whether he was a Taylor man, Zachary replied that he wasn’t “much of a one” and did not vote for him “partly because of family reasons, and partly because his wife was … opposed to sending ‘Old Zack’… to Washington, where she would be obliged to go with him!” (quoted in Hamilton, 1951: 135).

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Despite her wishes, the Whig Party ticket of  Zachary Taylor and Millard Fillmore triumphed in November 1848, and Taylor became president in March 1849. The Taylor Presidency Zachary Taylor has been credited with the earliest use of the title “first lady” in his eulogy of White House hostess and longtime Washington resident Dolley Madison, who died in July 1849. He called her “our First Lady for a half‐century” (quoted in Watson, 2000: 7). However, Thomas Balcerski, the author of the Harriet Lane chapter in this volume, suggests that President Buchanan’s niece was the first White House hostess to be addressed as “first lady” while serving in that role. Margaret Taylor—the “president’s lady,” as the president’s wife was then known— focused her activities on religion and domesticity. She entrusted the duties of hostess at official White House functions to Betty, now married to William “Perfect” Bliss, the president’s private secretary. In his two‐part biography of President Taylor, Holman Hamilton gives Mrs. Taylor her due. Hamilton interviewed the ninety‐ seven‐year‐old niece of Zachary and Margaret, who had visited the Taylor White House; he also consulted with a grand­ daughter and a greatgrandson (the family historian) of the president and the first lady. Hamilton asserts that Margaret was not “quite the invalid of tradition” and “there were keys to her personality which have been insufficiently stressed. The first was her piety” (Hamilton, 1951: 171). For one, she worshiped at “[t]he Church of the Presidents,” St. John’s Episcopal Church, across Lafayette Square from the White House. In an age when many women joined Christian benevolent associations to spread the faith and reform the world, she became a life member of the American Sunday School Union (1951: 241).

Margaret created a comfortable home life in the White House, as she had during her husband’s army postings. Jefferson Davis’s second wife, Varina, whom the Taylors’ befriended, would write about Mrs. Taylor later, in an 1893 article published in several newspapers and excerpted in a 1925 Literary Digest article. She recalled that the most pleasant part of visiting the White House was spending time in Mrs. Taylor’s pretty, bright room, where the invalid, full of interest in the passing show in which she had not the strength to take her place, talked most agreeably and kindly to every one of the many friends who were admitted to her presence. (Quoted in Davis, 1893: 21)

Although Margaret rarely took part in public occasions, she always appeared at the many family dinners to which a few friends were invited (Davis, 1893: 21) and received visitors in her private apartments in the White House (Holloway, 1870: 487). In The Presidencies of Zachary Taylor and Millard Fillmore, Elbert Smith distinguishes between public and private responsibilities at the White House. He points out that Margaret’s “delicate health and personal inclinations dictated” that Betty be the official hostess at formal dinners but that “Mrs. Taylor was the unquestioned head of the private household” (Smith, 1988: 67). Similarly, John S. D. Eisenhower, in his Taylor biography, portrays Margaret as a devoted and “good army wife” who “dominate[d] the domestic side of the White House” and presided over the family rooms upstairs (Eisenhower, 2008: 91, 97). One of the established roles of Washington political wives—prior to the creation of the civil service—was to assist their husbands with patronage, and even Margaret dabbled in political appointments. Hamilton discloses that Margaret received office seekers with her husband and may have influenced Reverdy Johnson’s appointment as attorney



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general, since she was a relative of his wife (Hamilton, 1951: 220, 165–166). Margaret, however, had not experienced the intensive Washington boardinghouse life familiar to both Abigail Fillmore and Jane Pierce. Consequently she knew less of  the Washington political and social scene,  which had ramifications during her husband’s presidency. Despite Margaret’s blue‐blooded background—she’d been a childhood acquaintance of Nelly Custis, the granddaughter of Martha Washington—and her interest in religion and homemaking, her notable absence at public receptions inspired ugly rumors. Margaret was por­ trayed as a daft, even masculinized, yokel from the frontier, not at all the picture of a “true woman.” Laura Holloway noted that Zachary’s opponents “found fault with [Mrs. Taylor’s] simple habits” and attempted to use their critique to lessen public esteem for the president (Holloway, 1870: 487). Such was and is, to the public, the impor­ tance of a first lady’s femininity that writers have debated this view for decades, the image of a tobacco‐obsessed Mrs. Taylor being the most indelible. In her book Seventy‐Five Years of White House Gossip: From Washington to Lincoln, Edna M. Colman revived a rumor, presented in an 1892 magazine article by G. H. Yenowine, that Mrs. Taylor smoked a long‐ stemmed corncob pipe (Colman, 1925: 223). On the contrary, Varina Davis insisted that Mrs. Taylor’s “aversion to tobacco … was so great that none of her family [was] ever able to smoke in her presence” (quoted in Davis, 1893: 21). Citing a grandson who lived with the Taylors, biographer Holman Hamilton states that tobacco smoke made Mrs. Taylor “actively ill” and finds the rumors that she smoked a corncob pipe “utterly without foundation,” as was the depiction of her as crude (Hamilton, 1941: 117; 1951: 25). During the long congressional session that began in December 1849, President Taylor and Vice President Fillmore, who

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presided over the Senate, contended with increasingly partisan debates in Congress and even a near assault on the Senate floor over the expansion of slavery to the territo­ ries. Indeed, the first half of the year 1850 witnessed the last stand of the Senate’s “Great Triumvirate”—John C. Calhoun of South Carolina, Henry Clay of Kentucky, and Daniel Webster of Massachusetts: the first threatened to lead the South into secession, the last two sought compromise. Even White House guests came under scrutiny; the regular visits of William Seward, the antislavery senator from New York, infuriated certain southern politicians. Holloway reveals that the partisan personal and political attacks upon the administration prompted the women of the general’s family to go on the defensive by resolving to perform their public duties more openly. Even Mrs. Taylor, criticized by the “opposition” for her focus on a housekeeping style that “affected the personal comforts” of the president, “gradually abandoned much of her personal superintendence of domestic matters” (Holloway 1870: 487, 489). The first lady was expected to be more than a housewife. On March 4, 1850, at the beginning of the second year of the Taylor administration, the women inaugurated a new era at the White House by holding a brilliant reception. In Holloway’s words: “The influence of the ladies of the White House began to be felt in political circles, and what had been for the preceding year a negative, now became a positive power” (1870: 490). As the matriarch of the family, Margaret presumably would have approved of, or even helped plan, this new approach. In 1850, after attending a Fourth of July celebration in the blistering sun, Zachary Taylor returned to the White House, where he drank iced milk and ate copious quanti­ ties of cherries. Becoming violently ill, he died five days later of either “violent cholera morbus” or gastroenteritis. Of course, Margaret was devastated. Her daughter Betty confessed: “We had thought of our

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mother’s dying, for she is … seldom well; but our father … we never expected to die!” (quoted in Hamilton, 1951: 396). Millard Fillmore, the new president, graciously invited Mrs. Taylor to stay in the White House as long as she needed, but she moved out on the evening of her husband’s funeral. She died on August 14, 1852, at the age of sixty‐three, in East Pascagoula, Mississippi, where Betty was living. “From the time Mrs. Taylor left the White House, she never alluded to her residence there, except as connected with the death of her husband” (Holloway, 1870: 494). In Henry Montgomery’s (1854) The Life of Major General Zachary Taylor: Twelfth President of the United States, which was published after Zachary’s and Margaret’s deaths, Old Whitey is listed in the table of contents. Margaret Taylor is not. One of the worst documented presidential wives ever to have lived in the White House, Margaret Taylor is further distinguished by having one of the rarest surviving autographs of any first lady. Four surviving signatures attributed to Margaret Taylor are discussed in the article, “From Margaret Taylor’s Pen,”—one on the flyleaf of a Sunday School Prayer Book, two on legal documents related to the administration of the estate of President Taylor, and one on a calling card (Ostromecki, 1993: 193, 195‐196). Zachary Taylor normally destroyed incoming cor­ respondence once he had replied, and after his death Margaret may have destroyed his letters to her. Collections of Taylor letters are held in the National Archives, the  Library of Congress, and the Henry E.  Huntington Library in San Marino, California. This last collection was published in 1908 as Letters of Zachary Taylor from the Battle‐fields of the Mexican War (Taylor, 1908). No conclusively authenticated portrait of Margaret is known to exist. Her daughter Betty believed that she never sat for one. In  contrast, several undisputed portraits survive of Old Whitey. No wonder that, just

twenty years after the Taylor presidency, Holloway found little material for Mrs. Taylor’s biography (Holloway, 1870: 466). Abigail Fillmore’s Biography Abigail was born to the Reverend Lemuel and Abigail Newland Powers on March 13, 1798, in Stillwater, New York, a village along the banks of the Hudson River where her father led the First Baptist Church. Five brothers and one sister preceded her. The reverend died when she was only two years old; this event occurred after a sex scandal, which involved her father, had split the church community. Her mother tried to maintain their farm, but the debts became insurmountable and, as a child, Abigail moved with her mother and siblings to Sempronius in Cayuga County, in central New York. In her mid‐teens, having educated herself by reading her father’s books under the tutelage of her mother, she became a schoolteacher—and the first presidential wife to pursue a career before marriage. She joined a circulating library in the area  and taught and studied at the New Hope Academy. Holloway noted that, by “alternating between teaching and studying, between imparting and receiving instruction, she became a thorough scholar and remarkable woman” (Holloway, 1870: 496). During this period, the tall, auburn‐ haired Abigail met the strong, handsome, blond youth, Millard Fillmore, two years her junior. In Millard Fillmore’s Autobiography of Earlier Years, published by the Buffalo Historical Society in 1907 in the Millard Fillmore Papers, the former president would recall fondly: “I pursued much of my study with, and perhaps was unconsciously stimu­ lated by the companionship of, a young lady whom I afterward married” (Fillmore, 1907, 1: 11). The young couple became engaged during the winter of 1818–1819 but prudently put off marriage until Millard could support a family.



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Teacher Abigail Powers finally married attorney Millard Fillmore on February 5, 1826, in the home of her brother Cyrus in Moravia, New York. The newlyweds settled in western New York, in what is now East Aurora, where Millard practiced law. Abigail Fillmore also became the first presidential wife to practice a career after marriage, continuing her teaching in the charming cottage her new husband had built for her. From 1829 to 1831, Millard served three one‐year terms in the New York State Assembly in Albany and in this capacity sponsored progressive legislation, including the abolition of imprisonment for debt. In 1828 Abigail gave birth to the Fillmores’ only son, Millard Powers (known simply as Powers), and in 1832 to their only daughter, Mary Abigail (known as Abbie). W. L. Barre, in a biography of Millard Fillmore written for the 1856 presidential campaign, acknowledged that Abigail had successfully managed the household alone and had educated the children while Millard was away serving in political office (Barre, 1856: 388). In 1830 the Fillmores moved to the boom village of Buffalo, New York, where Millard became one of the city fathers and helped draft the city charter. Millard was elected to his first of four terms in the US House of Representatives in 1832. In June 1834 Abigail visited him in Washington, where she listened to Henry Clay debate in the Senate and viewed the Declaration of Independence at the depart­ ment of state. In late 1837 Abigail lived with Millard in a Washington boarding­ house, where a fellow boarder wrote down this description of her: “Mrs. F. is rather plain, something of a talker & a woman of good sense” (Fairfield, 1922: 164). Abigail regularly spent the political and social seasons with Millard in Washington, where they gained more prominence when he became chair of the powerful Ways and Means Committee in 1841. Ever interested in authors and literature, she met Charles Dickens in March 1842. On the Fourth of

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July that year, Abigail broke her foot or ankle, or quite possibly bones in both—an injury from which she never fully recovered. Following Millard’s service in Congress, Abigail became one of the leading hostesses in Buffalo, where she entertained former President John Quincy Adams and other notable visitors. Millard opposed the Mexican–American War, which he viewed as a southern attempt to spread slavery and as a means to weaken northern economic interests. Defeated in the 1844 New York gubernatorial election, Millard was elected comptroller of New York in 1846. He and Abigail moved to Albany, where she partici­ pated in the social life of the state capital. Two years later the Whigs nominated Millard Fillmore, a northern non‐slaveholder, as their candidate for the position of vice president, in order to balance the ticket with southerner Zachary Taylor. During the election Abigail Fillmore fared better than Margaret Taylor in media coverage, attracting national attention when Millard’s biography was published in the October 1848 issue of The American Review. The article names her father, but not her mother, and depicts her as a respectable matron and hence a politically desirable and inoffensive consort, by describing her as “a lady of great worth, modest and unobtrusive in her deportment, and highly esteemed for her many virtues” (The American Review, 1848: 342). Millard was elected vice president of the United States in the following month and took office in March 1849. In February 1850, The Leland Magazine, or a Genealogical Record of Henry Leland and His Descendants prominently featured the wife of the vice president, Abigail Fillmore, whose paternal grandmother had been a Leland. The book contains a portrait of Abigail and presents the facts of her birth, ancestry, and places of residence, along with a description that seems almost cribbed from the one above (Leland, 1850: 114). However, only a quarter of the biographical sketch is devoted to Abigail; the other three quarters consist of Millard’s biography.

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The Fillmore Presidency Becoming president upon the death of Zachary Taylor in July 1850, Millard was immediately confronted with a divided legislature and with threats of southern secession. In September he signed a package of five bills that came to be known as “the Compromise of 1850.” These measures included the admission of California as a free state, slaveholding Texas’s surrender of its territorial claim on non‐slaveholding New Mexico, the organization of Utah and New Mexico into territories that could decide the slavery question by popular sovereignty, abolition of the slave trade in Washington, DC, and a fugitive slave law that strengthened the Fugitive Slave Act of 1793 signed by George Washington. Fillmore’s biographer Robert J. Rayback asserts that Millard immediately signed all of  the bills except the Fugitive Slave Act, because that one was personally repugnant. … Yet Fillmore knew all along he would sign it. He regretted its necessity, but the Constitution required the giving up of fugitive slaves [Article IV, Section 2, Clause 3], and it was not for him to decide whether this was a wise provision of the Constitution.

In signing the bills, he was relieved that, as “if by magic, the clouds of disunion, which [had] hovered threateningly over the nation, disappeared” (Rayback, 1959: 252–253). According to William Griffis, who had interviewed and corresponded with acquaintances of the Fillmores prior to writing his 1915 book, Abigail had advised Millard not to sign the bill: None knew more than Fillmore himself that, if he signed the Fugitive Slave Law, it would be the death blow of his personal popularity in the North and that the great portion of his political friends would be alienated forever. Indeed, his wife told him

so and made it clear to him. Nevertheless, when he saw his duty to the whole coun­ try, all thoughts of self‐interest were like a feather in the scale. (Griffis, 1915: 70)

Those who stress that Abigail was absent from Washington in the summer of 1850— and thus could not have advised him—over­ look the fact that correspondence from that time between the new president and the first lady is missing—and so are letters to and from their children. Letters surviving from Millard’s vice presidency show that he and Abigail discussed political concerns with each other. For instance, on the very day of the inauguration, a woman seeking a patron­ age position for her male cousin visited Abigail, who was still in Albany. Mrs. Fillmore informed the new vice president that she was already “beset by office seek­ ers” (quoted in Hoganson, 1996: 160). That Abigail would be against slavery was not surprising. The Northern Baptist faith, in which she was raised, opposed this insti­ tution (Whitton, 1948: 248), which would gradually be abolished in New York State in the early nineteenth century. George Washington Jonson, the most prominent abolitionist in Buffalo, befriended Abigail and frequented the Fillmores’ home. Other legislation that overcame opposi­ tion and passed Congress in the summer of 1850 provided funding for what would become Abigail’s best known accomplish­ ment: the establishment, with her husband, of the first official library in the Executive Mansion. Laura Holloway quotes a “distin­ guished lady of Buffalo,” almost certainly Harriet Haven, Abigail’s friend who lived in Washington during the Fillmore admin­ istration, as recollecting that, “[w]hen Mr.  Fillmore entered the White House, he  found it entirely destitute of books.” To  have access to books during Cabinet meetings and to please Abigail, Millard “asked of Congress and received an appro­ priation.” The friend remembered that



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Mrs. Fillmore was in the habit of spending her leisure hours in reading. … She was accustomed to be surrounded with books of reference, maps, and all the other acquirements of a well‐furnished library, and she found it difficult to content herself in a house devoid of such attractions. (Quoted in Holloway, 1870: 503, 505)

In “Mrs. Haven’s Recollections,” published in the Millard Fillmore Papers, Harriet indicated that the library functioned as a reception room for guests, a family room, a refuge for the president, and Mrs. Fillmore’s domain and primary area of responsibility (Fillmore, 1907, 2: 492). Among the guests entertained in the library was Fillmore’s secretary of state, Daniel Webster. Significantly, Millard waited to have the books purchased until Abigail arrived in Washington in October 1850, ahead of the social and political season, so she would have her say on the selection. James Grant Wilson, who interviewed the former presi­ dent, credited Abigail with a central role in founding the White House Library: “To this Christian lady the White House is indebted for the books which to‐day make the library one of the most attractive rooms in the presidential mansion” (Wilson and Fiske, 1887: 456; see Figure 11.1). Anne Hollingsworth Wharton relied on sources close to the Fillmores in her 1902 book Social Life in the Early Republic. She wrote that, “[b]eing a good housekeeper, like most intellectual women,” Mrs. Fillmore ingeniously created a congenial room by cleaning the old carpet from the Blue Room, installing it on the second floor in what is now the Yellow Oval Room, and adding “comfortable chairs, favorite books, and Miss Fillmore’s piano and harp” to make the new library “homelike and a­ttractive.” Here the Fillmores spent their evenings according to the ideals of the cult of domesticity and received intimate friends, one of whom recalled many delightful hours in the library “when there was

Figure 11.1  Mrs. Abigail Fillmore. Engraving by Henry Bryan Hall, New York. Source: Library of Congress, Prints and Photo­ graphs Division. Reproduction Number LC‐ USZ62‐1776.

reading aloud, interesting conversation, and always Miss Fillmore’s charming music.” Powers Fillmore would join his sis­ ter in singing such new melodies as Stephen Foster’s “Old Folks at Home” (Wharton, 1902: 310–311). In an unpublished essay written a century after the Fillmore White House Library was founded, Francis de S. Ryan claims that Mrs. Fillmore lobbied congressmen at a dinner for funding for the library (Ryan, 1950: 1). However, Abigail was not in Washington when the first round of library funding passed, although she was present when additional monies were approved in 1851. Elizabeth Lorelei Thacker‐Estrada (2001) has written the first published essay about Mrs. Fillmore and the White House library: “The Heart of the Fillmore Presidency.” She followed it with a chapter titled “Rooms of Their Own” (Thacker‐ Estrada, 2004), which includes an exploration

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of Abigail’s role in the creation of the library within the historical context of first ladies as White House managers. Her subsequent essay “Abigail Powers Fillmore: First Lady of the Library” (Thacker‐Estrada, 2010) traces the literary interests of Mrs. Fillmore and focuses on the ways she used the library as the setting for her activities as first lady. In this symbolic center of a ­cultured admin­ istration, Abigail “wove together many of the intellectual, cultural, and artistic strands of antebellum America” (Thacker‐Estrada, 2010: 39). Prominent women of the time found a place for themselves—figuratively and literally—in the library. Along with works by such men as William Shakespeare, Walter Scott, and Washington Irving, books by women also lined the shelves of the new library, for example Tales and Novels by Maria Edgeworth, The Complete Concordance to Shakespeare by Mary Cowden Clarke, and Memoirs of a Hungarian Lady by Theresa Pulszky, who visited the Fillmore White House in 1852 with the Hungarian revo­ lutionary Lajos Kossuth. Regarding the popular book Female Poets of America, which contained poems by many women, including Elizabeth Ellet, Abigail expressed both an appreciation of the poetry and an awareness of her role in encouraging the lit­ erary accomplishments of American women. In a rare surviving letter she wrote: “It was with great pride and pleasure that  I  saw these samples of the genius of my  fellow‐ countrywomen” (quoted in Thacker‐ Estrada, 2003: 92). Abigail’s patronage of women writers figures prominently in one of the most benevolent and publicized acts of her tenure as first lady. Abigail had formed a close friendship with Susan Helen De Kroyft, who was known as the “Blind Authoress” of A Place in Thy Memory (published in 1850). Upon Abigail’s recommendation, De Kroyft consulted a doctor whose treatment improved her vision. The delighted De Kroyft wrote an open and effusive letter (published in the New Orleans Daily Delta)

in which she thanked Mrs. Fillmore for arranging for her care (Heckler‐Feltz, 1997: 140–141). The Fillmores supported the goals of another prominent woman: Dorothea Dix, the mental healthcare reformer. Correspondence between Dorothea and Millard quoted in the book entitled The Lady and the President (Dix and Fillmore, 1975) reveals that the Fillmores regularly welcomed the reformer to the White House. Abigail and Abbie provided Dix with access to the president, as it would have been considered unladylike in the mid‐nineteenth century for a woman to approach a man who was not a relation. Dix’s politicking with the Fillmores paid off. The Civil and Diplomatic Appropriation Act of 1852 authorized $100,000 to estab­ lish a hospital in Washington. This hospital opened in 1855 as the Government Hospital for the Insane and later became St. Elizabeths Hospital. Along with these good works, as Thacker‐ Estrada notes in her 2010 essay, Abigail practiced unofficial diplomacy in her rela­ tionship with Frances Calderon de la Barca, who was the author of Life in Mexico during a Residence of Two Years in That Country (1843) and the wife of the Spanish minister. Her interactions with Madame Calderon de la Barca occurred at a politically sensitive and even dangerous time, after filibusterers invaded the Spanish colony of Cuba in a failed attempt to annex it to the United States and to expand southern slave territory—an unauthorized expedition ­ denounced by President Fillmore. Mrs. Fillmore’s more traditional White House hostess duties were impeded by a series of tragedies and mishaps. An active hostess throughout the winter of 1850– 1851, the first season of her husband’s administration, Abigail had to go into mourning immediately after her sister’s death in February 1851. Later that year, while in Newport, she seriously reinjured her ankle while descending the stairs in a hotel— an accident that crippled her for weeks.



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Abigail’s period of mourning and conva­ lescence gave rise to the accepted belief that Abbie, her daughter, was the official White House hostess. What actually occurred in the Fillmore White House was a division of duties. Abigail regularly received callers and greeted visitors to the White House, while the duty of making calls—visiting others in their homes—fell to Abbie. Millard himself delineated the differences between the responsibilities of his wife and those of his daughter in a letter to Holloway, who was carrying out research for her book. He stated that, although Mrs. Fillmore was not able to return calls due to her health—that duty having been performed by their daughter—“she was able to preside at all dinners and levees and receive calls generally” (quoted in Scarry, 2001: 201). By listing all the regular events the Fillmores held at the White House, Elizabeth Ellet demonstrates that Abigail was an active and busy hostess, who held an official dinner every week when Congress was in session and twice a week during the short session. Abigail also held weekly morning and evening receptions (Ellet, 1869: 441– 442). A friend corroborated: Mrs. Fillmore was proud of her husband’s success in life, and desirous that no reasonable expectations of the public should be disap­ pointed. She never absented herself from the public receptions, dinners, or levees when it was possible [for her] to be present. (Quoted in Holloway, 1870: 505)

In June 1852, at the badly divided Whig convention, Millard reluctantly ran for the presidential nomination in a three‐way race with Daniel Webster and Winfield Scott. General Scott, who had commanded the army that conquered Mexico City during the Mexican–American War, won the nomination on the fifty‐third ballot. Because “the Whigs had won twice before with military heroes”—William Henry Harrison in 1840 and Zachary Taylor in 1848—they assumed

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they could win the presidency with Scott (Scarry, 2001: 232). However, he lost the election that November to another Mexican–American War general: Democrat Franklin Pierce. Fillmore’s biographer Robert J. Scarry emphasizes the extensive social activities that took place at the Fillmore White House throughout the term and points out that “the Fillmores’ cultural guests included American and world personalities, and literary and musical figures.” In 1850, the first year of the administration, the Fillmore family had hosted the “Swedish Nightingale,” the singer Jenny Lind, and P. T. Barnum, her  manager. Fittingly, in the final days of the administration in 1853, literary lions Washington Irving and William Makepeace Thackeray graced White House social functions. As Scarry asserts, the Fillmores were “one of the most interesting first families to occupy the White House in the 19th century” (Scarry, 2001: 202). On March 4, Washington Irving stood next to Mrs. Fillmore as Franklin Pierce delivered his inaugural address on the east portico of the US Capitol. Soon thereafter Abigail came down with a cold that devel­ oped into pneumonia. On March 30, at the age of fifty‐five, she died. Irving wrote in a letter of his shock “at the sad bereavement which has afflicted the worthy Fillmore family” (Irving, 1869: 229). Sad, too, is that by far the best documented event of Mrs. Fillmore’s life is her death. Betty Caroli, in her book First Ladies, describes Abigail as erudite but denies that she was really an invalid, claiming that the first lady used the excuse of ill health in order to avoid public duties (Caroli, 1995: 48–49). In contrast, however, Carl Sferrazza Anthony states she did suffer from a broken ankle and bronchial problems yet still man­ aged to attend and preside over public events (Anthony, 1990: 152). This assessment of “much sickness” was also confirmed by contemporaries and by Abigail’s precipitous death (Miller, 1900: 312).

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Unfortunately Millard Powers Fillmore, Abigail’s son and the only surviving member of the immediate family, directed in his will that his executor destroy all letters “to or from my father, mother, sister, or me.” His father’s will, however, “contained no clause directing or even suggesting the destruction of his papers” (Fillmore, 1907, 1: vi–vii). Fortunately Charles De Angelis Marshall, the executor of the son’s will, ignored the request and stored the papers in his attic. In 1908 the Buffalo Historical Society received 44 vol­ umes of Fillmore presidential papers. Two boxes of Fillmore manuscripts, including family letters, experienced a dif­ ferent fate from that of the presidential papers: they did not come to light until decades later, in 1966, when they were bequeathed to the State University of New York at Oswego (Snyder, 1969: 11–14). This collection contains many letters from the Fillmore parents to their children but only a few exchanged between Millard and Abigail, who wrote to each other every day or every other day. According to Harriet Haven, Millard carefully preserved “every line [Abigail] had ever written to him. He said he could never make up his mind to destroy even the little business notes she sent him at his office” (Fillmore, 1907, 2: 492–493). Presumably Powers destroyed most of these. The collection is especially thin in letters from Millard’s presidential years, particularly those written the fateful summer of 1850 when he became president. Rayback used the Millard Fillmore Papers and the presidential documents to write Millard Fillmore: Biography of a President (Rayback, 1959). Since the book was written after the Fillmore presidential papers were donated but before the discovery of the Fillmore family’s personal correspondence, Abigail does not play as much of a role in his  book as she might otherwise. Despite this, Rayback credits Mrs. Fillmore with encouraging Millard’s “higher ambitions” and “greater activity” (1959: 14). The first comprehensive Fillmore biographer to use

the SUNY Oswego private correspondence was Robert J. Scarry in his Millard Fillmore (Scarry, 2001). In two separate short biographies of Millard Fillmore, Elbert Smith (1988), who admired the president, and Paul Finkelman (2011), who did not, briefly mention Abigail. Smith portrays her as a minister’s daughter who “encouraged [Millard’s] ambitions and shared his dreams” (Smith, 1988: 44) but also comments on her absences from Washington, her poor health, and her need for her daughter to assist her in handling “extensive social duties” (1988: 167). Finkelman acknowledges that Abigail was “well read and as sophisticated as one could become at the time in a tiny town in rural central New York” (Finkelman, 2011: 4–5). He, too, stresses her ailments and her  absence from Washington during her husband’s vice presidency. Both historians mention Millard’s unhappiness when separated from Abigail. What is not mentioned is that Abigail was in Buffalo caring for her ailing sister, who had suffered a serious stroke, and also with her children, who were launching careers in the city, Powers as an attorney and Abbie as a teacher. Millard survived Abigail for twenty‐one years, dying on March 8, 1874. Despite a second marriage five years after Abigail’s death and despite women’s attraction to the handsome president, Robert J. Scarry states that Abigail Powers Fillmore was the “true love and romance of Millard Fillmore’s life” (Scarry, 2001: 301). Nevertheless, the his­ torical memory of Abigail Fillmore has become confused with that of her husband’s second wife, Caroline, whom he married in 1858. Since the late twentieth century, for example, the best known photograph of “Abigail” is really one of Caroline. Jane Pierce’s Biography Jane, the youngest of three daughters, was born to the Reverend Jesse Appleton, a con­ gregational minister, and his wife Elizabeth



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Means Appleton on March 12, 1806, in Hampton, New Hampshire. Three sons were to follow. Jane’s father became president of Bowdoin College in Brunswick, in what was then Massachusetts but is now Maine, and tutored his own children on campus, where they lived. The family experienced a double loss when the youngest son passed away in 1817 and the reverend died of tuberculosis in 1819. Jane’s own respiratory health would become a lifelong concern. Mrs. Appleton relocated the family to Amherst, New Hampshire, where they eventually moved into the mansion of her father, Robert Means. Jane’s attendance at district schools and at Catharine Fiske’s Young Ladies Seminary in Keene, New Hampshire, provided her with more formal education than Margaret Taylor and Abigail Fillmore had received. Born in Hillsborough, New Hampshire, on November 23, 1804 to a Revolutionary War general, Franklin Pierce attended Bowdoin College in the early 1820s. After graduation, the slender, handsome Franklin studied law in Amherst, where he may have met pretty, dark‐haired, petite Jane during this time. Her family, many of whose mem­ bers had been Federalists, long opposed Jane’s marriage to Franklin, who became a democratic congressman in 1833. However, the young couple prevailed. They married in the parlor of the Means mansion on November 19, 1834 and left immediately for Washington. Franklin believed that he could take better care of frail Jane than anyone else could (Wallner, 2007: 355). Sadly, he was not able to protect her from tragedy. Freshly arrived in the nation’s capital, Jane Pierce met both President Andrew Jackson and Congressman Davy Crockett of Tennessee; but she soon found the swampy conditions in Washington hazardous to her health. In 1835 Jane left Washington to stay with her mother in Amherst, where she gave birth to her first son, Franklin Pierce Junior, on February 2, 1836. The baby died three

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days later. She returned to Washington that December with Franklin, now a US senator. She was described at this time as “in very delicate health, and wanting in cheerfulness” (Fairfield, 1922: 150). Jane, who found that she hated politics, wrote of her husband: “Oh, how I wish he was out of political life! How much better it would be for him on every account!” (quoted in Nichols, 1931: 104). She believed that the rowdy social life of the national capital aggravated Franklin’s dependence on alcohol. Jane often stayed with family in New England during her husband’s congressional career, and in 1842 Franklin relinquished his Senate seat to return to their home in Concord, New Hampshire. While Franklin was serving in the Senate, Jane had given birth to two sons: Frank Robert in 1839 and Benjamin, known as Bennie, in 1841. Once she had her husband home with her and their sons, she experienced the happiest time of her married life. But, tragically, Frank Robert died of typhus in 1843. Commissioned a colonel of the infantry during the Mexican–American War, Franklin recruited a New England regiment and later rose to the rank of brigadier general. Jane, upset that he would leave his family, took Bennie to stay with her sister and brother‐ in‐law in Massachusetts. Franklin returned to Concord in 1847 as a war hero. In June 1852, at the Democratic Conven­ tion in Baltimore, “dark horse” candidate Franklin Pierce was nominated for president. Jane fainted at the news (Nichols, 1931: 203). Nathaniel Hawthorne, Franklin’s former classmate at Bowdoin College, briefly introduced readers to Jane in his campaign biography of his friend. From the book the public learned that in 1846 Franklin had turned down President James K. Polk’s offer to appoint him US attorney general, invoking Jane’s delicate health while they were living in Washington during his congressional career (Hawthorne: 1852: 63). Thus the public perception of Jane was—and remains—that of a sickly woman.

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Jane prayed that Franklin would lose the election, but on November 7, 1852 he won in a landslide over Winfield Scott, his Whig opponent. After the election, the devout Jane gradually resigned herself to living in  the White House come March 1853, stating: “If what seems so probably is to come I pray that grace may be given where it is and will be much so needed” (quoted in Anthony, 1990: 157). Jane’s only solace was that her son Bennie would make her time as “Presidentress” bearable. On January 6, 1853, after attending the funeral of Jane’s uncle, the textile magnate Amos Lawrence, the Pierces boarded a train in South Andover, Massachusetts, to return to Concord and prepare for their move to Washington, where Franklin would be inau­ gurated on March 4. A mile and a half into the journey, they felt a sudden jolt. Their rail car dragged along the tracks and the coupling connecting the car to the rest of the train broke. Their car hurtled down a ledge, turning over twice. Franklin reached out to Jane and Bennie, wrapping his wife in the safety of one arm, but his other arm remained empty, for his son escaped his grasp. The Pierces found his body in the train wreckage—the sole fatality of the accident. The Pierce Presidency After the tragedy, Jane learned that, despite his protestations to the contrary, Franklin had actively sought the presidential nomina­ tion. She had lost her last child; and now she also lost faith, at least temporarily, in her husband. She did not move into the White House until late March. Attempting to rationalize their son’s horrific death, the Pierces came to believe that it was God’s will that Franklin be able to devote more time to his responsibilities as president. Adding to the gloom, Pierce’s vice pres­ ident, William Rufus DeVane King, died on  April 19, just a few weeks after Abigail

Fillmore’s death. In deep mourning, Jane initially left public hostessing duties to Abigail Atherton Kent Means, her aunt and friend. Yet she continued the practice of hosting well‐known authors at the White House. Nathaniel Hawthorne, who had published The Scarlet Letter in 1850, visited Jane upstairs at the Executive Mansion, took her sailing, and, on April 28, squired her and Abby Means on a visit to Mount Vernon, the former home of George and Martha Washington. Jane gradually took on more duties in the White House. She welcomed her extended family, whose members rallied around the Pierces; she held religious services in the library, urged White House staff to attend church, and impressed slavery opponent and peace advocate Elihu Burritt with her knowledge. Jane personified her era’s ideals of delicacy and refinement, and she upheld moral and religious virtues. According to her cousin Amos Lawrence, who attended a White House dinner at which Senator Stephen Douglas was also a guest, Franklin was abstemious and prayerful in Jane’s presence. However, he drank when away from the “puritanical” scrutiny of his wife (Wallner, 2004: 156; 2007: 115, 315). During the Pierce administration the United States negotiated the Gadsden Purchase of 45,000 square miles of land from Mexico. But the most serious event of Franklin’s presidency was the passage of the Kansas–Nebraska Act of 1854, which left the question of slavery up to popular sover­ eignty in those two territories and brought proslavery and antislavery settlers into con­ flict in “Bleeding Kansas.” Jane’s cousin bankrolled the New England Emigrant Aid Company of settlers who founded the antislavery stronghold that still bears his name, Lawrence. Biographer Roy Franklin Nichols, who first published Franklin Pierce: Young Hickory of the Granite Hills in 1931, credits Jane with interceding with her husband to free from imprisonment Charles Robinson,



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the leader of the Free State settlers in Lawrence, who had been indicted for treason in 1856 by proslavery courts. His wife, Sara Tappan Doolittle Lawrence Robinson, was a distant relation of Jane’s. Mrs. Pierce received letters from Mrs. Robinson and from Nancy Means Lawrence, Jane’s aunt, which pleaded for the release of Dr. Robinson, whom the governor had threatened to hang. After Jane showed Franklin the letters, he telegraphed orders that addressed the wishes of his wife’s aunt, “whose good opinion he declared he valued ‘more than that of all the politicians.’” As a consequence, Dr. Robinson was eventually released (quoted in Nichols, 1931: 483, 478). Democrats did not nominate Franklin for a second term in 1856, and the Pierces left the White House in March 1857. From 1857 to 1858 they took a leisurely rest in Madeira and an extended tour of Europe. In a further effort to improve Jane’s health, the couple visited the Bahamas in 1860. Nevertheless, Jane died of tuberculosis on December 2, 1863, at the age of fifty‐seven. Many more of Jane Pierce’s surviving letters have been published than those of the other two first ladies discussed here. Perhaps the academic and mercantile back­ ground of her family led its members to ­preserve more correspondence. As a result, there is a comparatively larger collection of  works about her. The Massachusetts Historical Society, the New Hampshire Historical Society, and the William Clements Library at the University of Michigan all hold correspondence by Jane Pierce and her relatives. Family letters concerning Mrs. Pierce were published in 1921 by Anne M. Means in Amherst and Our Family Tree (Means, 1921). In 1983 Norman F. Boas published Jane M. Pierce (1806–1863): The Pierce‐Aiken Papers, which consists of let­ ters he had acquired in 1980 from the estate of her relative, William A. Aiken (see Boas, 1983). In 1987 and 1988 Boas obtained additional letters, which he published in 1989 in Jane M. Pierce (1806–1863): The

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Pierce‐Aiken Papers Supplement (Boas, 1989). As with the Taylors and the Fillmores, most correspondence between the Pierces has disappeared. This suggests that Franklin Pierce, who died on October 8, 1869, six years after Jane, destroyed most of their ­letters. Abigail Kent Means, Jane’s aunt and a White House hostess, kept a diary that was used by biographers in the mid‐twentieth‐ century. It is now missing. Jane Pierce has engendered controversy. Although this fragile and pious woman elicited considerable sympathy in her own time, during the twentieth century she developed a much different reputation. Historians have often viewed her as hypo­ chondriacal and criticized her for failing to support her husband after the violent death of their last surviving child. As Betty Boyd Caroli states in First Ladies: “Jane Pierce had a long history—her entire adult life—of citing illness as a reason for doing very little” (Caroli, 1995: 52). The Franklin versus Jane debate began the very first year of the Pierce presidency. After visiting the White House in 1853, Nathaniel Hawthorne wrote a letter that revealed his partiality for his old friend and illustrated the importance placed on the social skills of the president’s wife. He wrote that he wished Franklin had a better wife, or none at all. It is too bad that the nation should be compelled to see such a death’s head in the pre‐eminent place among American women; and I think a presidential candidate ought to be scruti­ nized as well in regard to his wife’s social qualifications, as to his own political ones. (Hawthorne, 1987: 298)

Yet the great‐granddaughter of Martha Washington—Mrs. Robert E. Lee, whom the Pierces visited that same year at Arlington House—wrote in a private letter: I have known many of the ladies of the White House, none more truly excellent than the afflicted wife of President Pierce.

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Her health was a bar to any great effort on her part to meet the expectations of the public in her high position, but she was a refined, extremely religious, and well‐ educated lady. (Quoted in Wilson and Fiske, 1888: 12)

As in Mrs. Fillmore’s case, Ellet credits Mrs. Pierce with entertaining far more often than commonly assumed. Although Mrs. Pierce had “secluded herself from general society,” Ellet claims that, while “residing in the executive mansion, Mrs. Pierce never made her own sorrows a reason for any change in the accustomed routine of public affairs, social or official.” Some of Ellet’s claims seem, however, dubious—for instance when she writes: “Indeed, ‘public gayety’ at the White House from 1853 to 1857 was never better known” (Ellet, 1869: 460). A book that exemplifies the growing antipathy for Jane in the twentieth century is Roy Nichols’s “completely revised” second edition of his biography of Franklin Pierce (Nichols, 1958). There he is harsher toward Jane than in his 1931 first edition. He implies that she never forgave Franklin for the loss of Bennie; for, “[h]ereafter, she could look accusingly at him; his presidential ambitions were the cause of the boy’s death” (1958: 536). Jane’s historical reputation has been further tarnished as modern critics have blamed her for Franklin’s subsequent failure as president and have even accused her of contributing to the “start of the Civil War by adversely affecting her husband’s performance in office” (Minor and Vrzalik, 1988: 185). Larry Gara (1991) and Michael F. Holt (2010), authors of two separate condensed biographies of Franklin Pierce, stress Jane’s “serious emotional problems” (Gara, 1991: 48) and her loathing of politics (Holt, 2010: 2) in their brief mentions of her. Michael J. C. Taylor’s (2004) essay “‘A Hell on Earth’: The Pierce Marriage During the White House Years, 1853–1857” argues that Jane

did involve herself in politics. He criticizes her and members of her family for opposing the Kansas–Nebraska bill that Franklin signed in 1854 and for damaging his presidency (Taylor, 2004: 180–181). Peter A. Wallner, who wrote a two‐part biography of the president published in 2004 and 2007, presents a comparatively even‐ handed account of the Pierces’ relationship. He observes that, from the numerous letters that survive from Jane to her family, she seems completely devoted to her husband, missing him when he was away, never criticizing him in any way, and appearing to delight in his energy, sociability, and catholic interests, even if rarely participating herself. (Wallner, 2007: 354–355)

Yet Jane’s correspondence reveals that her very delight in Franklin’s company contributed to their estrangement when his other commitments kept them apart, and aggravated her low moods. “My husband is occupied every moment,” Jane complained in a letter to her sister, “if I sometimes have my hopes raised of having him with me for ten, twenty, or thirty minutes, I am generally disappointed—and often much disheartened and saddened for the want of communion in our sorrow, and thoughts and feelings connected with it” (quoted in Thacker‐Estrada, 2003: 95). Varina Davis, the wife of Pierce’s friend and secretary of  war Jefferson Davis, confirmed that Franklin’s “society was the one thing nec­ essary to [Jane], and he was too overworked to give her much of his time” (Davis, 1890: 540). Perhaps one reason for the Pierces’ marital difficulties was Jane’s own background. Jane Walter Venzke and Craig Paul Venzke observe that, after her father’s death, Jane lived with her mother, grandmother, two elder sisters, and two younger brothers in a matriarchal household—a situation that made it difficult for her to adjust to



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male‐dominated political life (Venzke and Venzke, 2005: 53, 55, 57). Yet, in contrast to Jane’s critics, the Venzkes end their essay with this statement: “Evidence in surviving letters to  intimate family members and friends suggests that Franklin and Jane gen­ erally shared a loving and supporting rela­ tionship” (2005: 61). The relative wealth of correspondence, the inherent drama of Jane’s tragic story, and the estrangement between her and Franklin might account for the existence of not one but two books with the title Jane Means Appleton Pierce: a children’s book written by Deborah Kent (1998) and a book for adults penned by Ann Covell (2013). In  the first half of her book, Covell allots separate chapters to members of Jane’s family, including Franklin, and focuses on the first lady’s life in the second half, illus­ trating the difficulty of creating a cohesive, chronological, book‐length narrative about a little‐known presidential wife. Well written, the book presents rare quotations from letters in the Maine Historical Society that Franklin wrote to a friend during his courtship of Jane. Covell theorizes that seventeen‐year‐ old Jane’s confidence and her interest in politics might have been undermined when family members mocked her advice to her uncle, Amos Lawrence, to run for mayor (Covell, 2013: 72). Covell acknowledges that Jane’s constant health complaints in her letters could be quite irritating; but she points out that Americans in the early and mid‐nineteenth century had little knowledge of the causes and treatments of diseases (2013: 115). She concludes that, if Franklin had spent more time with his wife during the first years of his administration, she might have recovered more quickly from her grief over Bennie and might have been of greater help to him. And, had Jane shown more love and concern for her hus­ band during the campaign and up to the inauguration, perhaps Franklin would have found his early presidency more tolerable (2013: 118).

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Studies on the Three First Ladies Over the past two decades in particular, all three first ladies presented here have become subjects of thematic studies and scholarly essays. Carl Anthony (1990), by calling them “iron belles,” recognizes the oft‐hidden strength of Mrs. Taylor, Mrs. Fillmore, and even Mrs. Pierce. In her chapter “Young Substitutes for First Ladies (1829–1869),” Betty Boyd Caroli (1995) analyzes the phenomenon of young female relatives serving as White House hostesses. Indeed, the relentless depiction of antebellum presi­ dential wives as invalids, with the notable exception of the childless and fairly young Sarah Polk, suggests that it was a social expectation that older matrons be ill. As noted above, Caroli has consistently found these first ladies to be shirkers who “pled poor health or grief” instead of meeting their obligations (1995: 35). However, further research into the lives of these three women demonstrates that they did play many of the traditional roles of first ladies. Cheryl Heckler‐Feltz (1997) relates the  lives of the first ladies—from Martha Washington to Hillary Clinton—to the Beatitudes in Jesus Christ’s Sermon on the Mount. Appropriately for three pious Protestants, Margaret Taylor is associated with “Blessed Are Those Who Mourn,” since her husband died in office; Abigail embodies “Blessed Are the Merciful,” on account of her actions on behalf of the blind woman novelist; and Jane is linked to “Blessed Are the Poor in Spirit,” since her life story is one of the most heartbreaking (1997: 19–24, 49–50, 57–59, 127, 140–141). Elizabeth Thacker‐Estrada discussed all three first ladies, along with their immediate predecessor, in her essay “True Women: The Roles and Lives of Antebellum Presidential Wives Sarah Polk, Margaret Taylor, Abigail Fillmore, and Jane Pierce” (Thacker‐Estrada, 2003). The first study to place these pre‐Civil War presidential wives

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in the context of the cult of true woman­ hood, the essay also associates them with major roles that first ladies have played in history: Margaret Taylor with that of wife, Abigail Fillmore with that of cultural patron, and Jane Pierce with that of chief mourner. Thacker‐Estrada asserts that these women helped establish a “traditional” approach to the office of first lady. Conclusion In the nineteenth century just as now, the first lady was expected to reflect and sym­ bolize the prevailing assumptions about American womanhood. Margaret Taylor, Abigail Fillmore, and Jane Pierce were no exceptions in this regard. All hesitant first ladies, they had to cope with the demands of life in the most public home in America, and the study of their lives reveals the hidden side of three presidential administrations. Although the cult of domesticity flourished in the mid‐nineteenth century, even today it defines to a great degree what it is to be “first ladylike.” In the twenty‐first century the American public is still most comfortable when presidents’ wives focus on family issues. The most recent example is Michelle Obama’s campaign against childhood obesity, although even that cause has drawn criticism, especially when it comes to the cafeteria lunch tray. Even though the actions of Mrs. Taylor, Mrs. Fillmore, and Mrs. Pierce were far less publicized than those of their successors since the late nineteenth century, they still influenced their husbands’ administrations. Over the course of these presidencies, the wives balanced the public demands placed on them with societal beliefs about what a “true woman” should be. Had Jane Pierce, for example, failed to go into deep mourning after the terrible death of her last son, she would have been condemned for a serious breach of etiquette. All three women, to  varying degrees, tried to live up to

the  sometimes contradictory expectations regarding private women relegated to the domestic sphere yet who lived in the very public realm of the White House during a contentious era of American history. Since the late years of the twentieth century, the activities of these mid‐nineteenth century first ladies have increasingly been studied and evaluated in connection with the administrations of their husbands. One example is Abigail Fillmore’s contributions to the establishment of a library in the Executive Mansion (see Thacker‐Estrada, 2010). Also during our time, efforts have been made not only to compare these women to other first ladies, but to place them within the era in which they lived. In  the future, biographers conducting additional research into primary and second­ ary sources can, and we hope will, continue to tell the stories of these now almost for­ gotten first ladies, place them in the historical context of their times, and more fully rec­ ognize their accomplishments.

References The American Review. 1848. “Millard Fillmore.” The American Review: A Whig Journal Devoted to Politics and Literature 2 (October): 341–346. Anthony, C. S. 1990. First Ladies: The Saga of the Presidents’ Wives and Their Power, 1789–1961. New York: William Morrow. Barre, W. L. 1856. The Life and Public Services of Millard Fillmore. Buffalo, NY: Wanzer, McKim. Boas, N. F. 1983. Jane M. Pierce (1806–1863): The Pierce‐Aiken Papers: Letters of Jane M. Pierce, Her Sister Mary M. Aiken, Their Family and President Franklin Pierce, with Biographies of Jane Pierce, Other Members of Her Family, and Genealogical Tables. Stonington, CT: Seaport Autographs. Boas, N. F. 1989. Jane M. Pierce (1806–1863): The Pierce–Aiken Papers Supplement. Mystic, CT: Seaport Autographs. Caroli, B. B. 1995. First Ladies, expanded edn. New York: Oxford University Press.



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Colman, E. M. 1925. Seventy‐Five Years of White House Gossip: From Washington to Lincoln. Garden City: Doubleday, Page. Covell, A. 2013. Jane Means Appleton Pierce, US First Lady (1853–1857): Her Family, Life, and Times. Lanman, MD: Hamilton Books. Davis, V. 1890. Jefferson Davis, Ex‐president of the Confederate States of America: A Memoir by His Wife, vol. 1. New York: Belford. Davis, V. 1893. “Recollections of Gen. Taylor: Mrs. Jefferson Davis Corrects Some Recent Misstatements Regarding President Taylor and His Wife.” The Daily Picayune (New Orleans, LA), 4 June. Dix, D. L., and M. Fillmore. 1975. The Lady and the President: The Letters of Dorothea Dix and Millard Fillmore. Edited by C. M. Snyder. Lexington: The University Press of Kentucky. Dyer, B. 1946. Zachary Taylor. Baton Rouge: Louisiana State University Press. Eisenhower, J. S. D. 2008. Zachary Taylor. New York: Times Books. Ellet, E. F. 1869. Court Circles of the Republic, or, the Beauties and Celebrities of the Nation: Illustrating Life and Society under Eighteen Presidents, Describing the Social Features of the Successive Administrations from Washington to Grant. Hartford, CT: Hartford Publishing. Fairfield, J. 1922. The Letters of John Fairfield: A  Representative in Congress from 1835 to 1837, edited by A. G. Staples. Lewiston, ME: Lewiston Journal. Fillmore, M. 1907. Millard Fillmore Papers, vols. 1–2. Edited by F. H. Severance. Buffalo, NY: Buffalo Historical Society. Finkelman, P. 2011. Millard Fillmore. New York: Times Books. Frost, J. 1847. Life of Major General Zachary Taylor: With Notices of the War in New Mexico, California, and in Southern Mexico. New York and Philadelphia: D. Appleton/G. S. Appleton. Fry, J. R. 1847. A Life of Gen. Zachary Taylor: Comprising a Narrative of Events Connected with His Professional Career, Derived from Public Documents and Private Correspondence. Philadelphia: Grigg, Elliot. Gara, L. 1991. The Presidency of Franklin Pierce. Lawrence: University Press of Kansas. Griffis, W. E. 1915. Millard Fillmore: Constructive Statesman, Defender of the Constitution, President of the United States. Ithaca, NY: Andrus & Church.

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Hamilton, H. 1941. Zachary Taylor: Solder of the Republic. Indianapolis: Bobbs‐Merrill. Hamilton, H. 1951. Zachary Taylor: Soldier in the White House. Indianapolis: Bobbs‐Merrill. Hawthorne, N. 1987. The Letters, 1853–1856, edited by T. Woodson, L. N. Smith, and N.  H. Pearson. Columbus: Ohio State University Press. Hawthorne, N. 1852. Life of Franklin Pierce. Boston: Ticknor, Reed, and Fields. Heckler‐Feltz, C. 1997. Heart and Soul of the Nation: How the Spirituality of Our First Ladies Changed America. New York: Doubleday. Hoganson, K. 1996. “Abigail (Powers) Fillmore.” In American First Ladies: Their Lives and Their Legacy, edited by L. L. Gould, 155–165. New York: Garland. Holloway, L. C. 1870. The Ladies of the White House. New York: United States Publishing Company. Holt, M. F. 2010. Franklin Pierce. New York: Times Books. Irving, P. M. 1869. The Life and Letters of Washington Irving, vol. 3. New York: Putnam. Kent, D. 1998. Jane Means Appleton Pierce. New York: Children’s Press. Leland, S. 1850. The Leland Magazine: Or, A Genealogical Record of Henry Leland, and His Descendants … Embracing Nearly Every Person of the Name of Leland in America, from 1653 to 1850. Boston: printed by Wier & White. Means, A. M. 1921. Amherst and Our Family Tree. Boston: privately printed. Miller, V. 1900. “Dr. Thomas Miller and His Times.” Records of the Columbia Historical Society 3: 303–323. Minor, M., and L. F. Vrzalik. 1988. “A Study in Tragedy: Jane Means Pierce First Lady, 1853– 1857.” Manuscripts 40 (3): 177–189. Montgomery, H. 1854. The Life of Major General Zachary Taylor: Twelfth President of the United States. Auburn, NY and Buffalo, NY: Derby & Miller/Derby, Orton & Mulligan. Nichols, R. F. 1931. Franklin Pierce: Young Hickory of the Granite Hills. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press. Nichols, R. F. 1958. Franklin Pierce: Young Hickory of the Granite Hills, 2nd edn. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press. Ostromecki, W. A. 1993. “From Margaret Taylor’s Pen.” Manuscripts 45 (3): 193–198.

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Rayback, R. J. 1959. Millard Fillmore: Biography of a President. Buffalo, NY: Published for the Buffalo Historical Society by Henry Stewart. Ryan, F. de S. 1950. “Centennial of the White House Library.” Unpublished manuscript (photocopy). Washington, DC: The White House. Scarry, R. J. 2001. Millard Fillmore. Jefferson, NC: McFarland. Smith, E. B. 1988. The Presidencies of Zachary Taylor and Millard Fillmore. Lawrence: University Press of Kansas. Snyder, C. M. 1969. “Forgotten Fillmore Papers Examined: Sources for Reinterpretation of a Little‐Known President.” American Archivist 32 (1): 11–14. Taylor, M. J. C. 2004. “‘A Hell on Earth’: The Pierce Marriage During the White House Years, 1853–1857.” In Life in the White House: A Social History of the First Family and the President’s House, edited by R. P. Watson, 173–191. Albany: SUNY Press. Taylor, Z. 1908. Letters of Zachary Taylor from the Battle‐Fields of the Mexican War, edited by W. K. Bixby and W. H. Samson. Rochester, NY: Genesee Press. Thacker‐Estrada, E. L. 2001. “The Heart of the Fillmore Presidency: Abigail Powers Fillmore and the White House Library.” White House Studies 1: 83–98. Thacker‐Estrada, E. L. 2003. “True Women: The Roles and Lives of Antebellum Presidential Wives Sarah Polk, Margaret Taylor, Abigail Fillmore, and Jane Pierce.” In The Presidential Companion: Readings on the First Ladies, edited by R. P. Watson and A. J. Eksterowicz, 77–101. Columbia: University of South Carolina Press. Thacker‐Estrada, E. L. 2004. “Rooms of Their Own: First Ladies and Their Impact on Historic White House Rooms.” In Life in the White House: A Social History of the First Family and the President’s House, edited by R. P. Watson, 49–73. Albany: SUNY Press. Thacker‐Estrada, E. L. 2010. “Abigail Powers Fillmore: The First Lady of the Library.” In  The First White House Library: A History and Annotated Catalogue, edited by

C.  Parisian, 39–53. University Park: Pennsylvania State University Press. Venzke, J. W., and C. P. Venzke. 2005. “The President’s Wife, Jane Means Appleton Pierce: A Woman of Her Time.” Historical New Hampshire, 59 (1): 45–63. Wallner, P. A. 2004. Franklin Pierce: New Hampshire’s Favorite Son. Concord, NH: Plaidswede. Wallner, P. A. 2007. Franklin Pierce: Martyr for the Union. Concord, NH: Plaidswede. Watson, R. P. 2000. The Presidents’ Wives: Reassessing the Office of First Lady. Boulder, CO: Lynne Rienner. Welter, B. 1976. Dimity Convictions: The American Woman in the Nineteenth Century. Athens: Ohio University Press. Wharton, A. H. 1902. Social Life in the Early Republic. Philadelphia: J. B. Lippincott. Whitton, M. O. 1948. First First Ladies, 1789– 1865: A Study of the Wives of the Early Presidents. New York: Hastings House. Wilson, J. G., and J. Fiske, eds. 1887. Appleton’s Cyclopaedia of American Biography, vol. 2: Crane‐Grimshaw. New York: D. Appleton. Wilson, J. G., and J. Fiske, eds. 1888. Appleton’s Cyclopaedia of American Biography, vol. 5: Pickering‐Sumter. New York: D. Appleton.

Further Reading Gould, L. L., ed. 1996. American First Ladies: Their Lives and Their Legacy. New York: Garland. National First Ladies’ Library. n.d. “First Ladies Research.” Research. http://www.firstladies. org/biographies (accessed October 17, 2015). Schneider, D., and C. J. Schneider. 2010. First Ladies: A Biographical Dictionary, 3rd edn. New York: Facts on File. The White House. n.d. “The First Ladies.” http://www.whitehouse.gov/about/first‐ ladies (accessed October 19, 2015). Wilson, J. G., and J. Fiske, eds. 1889. Appleton’s Cyclopaedia of American Biography, vol. 6: Sunderland‐Zurita. New York: D. Appleton.

Chapter Twelve

Harriet Rebecca Lane Johnston Thomas J. Balcerski

Of all the women who have served as first lady, Harriet Rebecca Lane (later Harriet Lane Johnston) is unique in being the only one to do so for a president who never married. Although other presidents before James Buchanan had entered the Executive Mansion (that is, the White House) unmarried—both President Andrew Jackson and President Martin Van Buren were widowers—none had enjoyed a truly lifelong relationship with the woman who would manage the social obligations required of the chief executive. The familial bond with her uncle proved crucial to Harriet Lane’s life: she received a formal education and met numerous political leaders of the day; she accompanied her uncle on his mission to England and became an “Honorary Ambassadress” in the process; and she skillfully executed the duties of social hostess of the Executive Mansion, becoming the “first lady in the land.” To this unassuming and highly capable twenty‐six‐year‐old woman fell the responsibility of leading Washington’s social life during a period of great national crisis. In her four years as hostess of the Executive Mansion, Harriet Lane left a lasting impression on Washington society. A half‐century later, Virginia Clay‐Clopton remembered Harriet Lane as “a little above

the medium height … her complexion was clear and brilliant. … I thought her not beautiful as much as handsome and healthful and good to look upon” (Clay‐Clopton, 1905: 115). Looking back at the start of the twentieth century, Thomas Cooper de Leon likewise remembered that antebellum Washington as “a mixture of Arlington grandeur, Jeffersonian simplicity, Dolly‐ Madisonism, Fillmore primness and the gracious chill of Miss Harriet Lane. Its society was a mosaic of elegance and pomp, of recklessness and parity, of culture and crudity” (DeLeon, 1909: 33). To connect Dolley Madison and Harriet Lane, as De Leon did, suggests a historical continuity between the two women. It also hints at the importance of President James Buchanan’s niece to the development of a distinctive Washington social life; for, to the many writers glancing backwards to those relatively halcyon years before the war, Harriet Lane was an enduring symbol of all there once was and all that had been irreparably lost in the crucible of the Civil War. Given how many of the late nineteenth‐ century and early twentieth‐century memoirs appreciated the “first lady in the land,” it is perhaps puzzling how little attention Harriet Lane has received in the current century. Her name does appear regularly in

A Companion to First Ladies, First Edition. Edited by Katherine A. S. Sibley. © 2016 John Wiley & Sons, Inc. Published 2016 by John Wiley & Sons, Inc.

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the dozens of reference books, compendia, and encyclopedias about the first ladies of the United States of America (a fecund and growing field, of popular and scholarly interest alike), but treatments of her in these texts, as is typical of their genre, are often superficial. Sometimes she is even excluded from reference works on account of her being the niece of James Buchanan, and not his wife. Yet most texts at least recognize her, and a recent ranking of the first ladies placed Harriet Lane in twenty‐eighth place out of a total of 37 (Roberts, 2003: xxiv). For what it’s worth, Harriet Lane has fared better than has her uncle in equivalent rankings of US presidents. In that same vein, Harriet Lane appears only infrequently, and usually insignificantly, in biographies of James Buchanan. One of the earliest biographers of James Buchanan, Philip Auchampaugh, surmised that Harriet was “not only discreet, but, like her uncle, quick at repartee and clever in conversation” (Auchampaugh, 1939: 224). In his biography of James Buchanan, Philip S. Klein gives only anecdotal evidence of her performance as first lady, paying more attention to her perceived deficiencies than to her strengths. “Miss Harriet intended to be Mistress of the White House; if not, she would pack her trunks and get out,” Klein wrote of her move to the Executive Mansion, adding that the new president “agreed that Harriet should dictate all matters of social protocol, leaving the execution of details to the steward.” In an echo of Buchanan’s own assessment of his niece, Klein agreed that “Harriet pretty much ran her own life” and that “she came to be a familiar and striking sight in Washington” (Klein, 1962: 273–274). Klein was disparaging, even misogynistic, in his assessment of her contributions as White House hostess, but in the past forty years the bulk of biographies and collections about Buchanan have barely mentioned her at all. The cumulative ignorance of Harriet Lane has thus extended over her notable role in the Buchanan administration and,

more importantly, over the origins of the phrase “first lady.” Perhaps unexpectedly, creative writers have been more likely to appreciate Harriet Lane than have their scholarly counterparts. The novelist John Updike acknowledged her as “the most popular first lady since Dolley Madison. Clubs, cravats, flowers, and a government cutter were named after her; the song ‘Listen to the Mocking Bird’ was dedicated to her” (Updike, 1974: 13). Nevertheless, Updike’s impressionistic portrait leaves the impression of a latter‐day Harriet Lane Johnston perceived as a cheerful annoyance in James Buchanan’s life. At times she serves as foil to Buchanan, rattling off an exhaustive list of his accomplishments in office when all those around him considered his administration to be a complete failure. In this way Updike figured an essential quality, which the few scholars of Harriet Lane would find to carry great significance: her role as a mirror for the Victorian womanhood that originated in the antebellum era. This idea that Harriet Lane represented Victorian womanhood has been fully elaborated by Sally Smith Cahalan in a master’s thesis on the subject (Cahalan, 1991). As Cahalan argues, Lane represented Victorian womanhood most fully through the key activities of travel and visiting (which she did both in England and in the United States), mourning (most noticeably at the death of her sister Mary and her brother Eskridge), entertaining (both in England and at the Executive Mansion), and courting (Cahalan, 1991: 21). Yet, if Harriet Lane became a public symbol for Victorian womanhood, her private life has remained something of a mystery until recently. This lack of knowledge stemmed partly from her insistence that her private letters be destroyed, though fortunately many do survive and have been recently made available to scholars. In consequence, this chapter will reconstruct key aspects of Harriet Lane Johnston’s life, with an emphasis on her



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Figure 12.1  Harriet Lane lithograph. Source: Frank Leslie’s Illustrated Newspaper 9 (226), March 31, 1860, New York.

time as hostess to the Buchanan administration and with attention to the details of both her younger, formative years and her telling later period. In sum, the picture that should emerge is not just one of proper Victorian womanhood, but also of a woman whose familial circumstances and commitment to public service granted her the honorary title of “first lady” (see Figure 12.1).

The early biography of Harriet Lane helps to explain how she became America’s first expressly designated “first lady.” She was born in Mercersburg, Pennsylvania, on May 9, 1830, the daughter of Jane Buchanan and Elliot Tole Lane. At the age of nine her mother died, leaving her along with her siblings—James Buchanan Lane, Elliot Eskridge Lane, and Mary Elizabeth Lane—temporarily

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in the care of her uncle, Reverend Edward Y. Buchanan. Two years later her father died, which officially made the four Lane children orphans. At this juncture Harriet requested that her favorite uncle, James Buchanan, assume her care—which he did, becoming an awkward, though dependable, father figure in the process. Laura Holloway, a contemporary of Buchanan and Lane, recalled their early relationship in flattering terms: Although Mr. Buchanan was not particularly fond of children, he was attracted to this frank and handsome child from her earliest infancy … No doubt that even at that early age he recognized in her a kindred spirit, and his good angel whispered to him that the boisterous child who sometimes disturbed his studies and mimicked his best friends, would one day be to him a fit adviser in difficulty, a sympathetic companion in sorrow, the light and ornament of his public life, and the comfort, at last, of his lonely hearth. (Holloway, 1881: 500)

In addition to Harriet Lane, James Buchanan became the surrogate to another orphaned relative: his nephew James Buchanan Henry, who was Harriet Lane’s cousin by her aunt and namesake Harriet Buchanan Lane. Although James Buchanan never married, he served as a lifelong surrogate to these two members of his extended family, becoming what one historian has called a “bachelor father” (Klein, 1967: 199). According to all the accounts, Harriet was a rambunctious young girl, a quality that prompted Buchanan to send her to a local boarding school run by the Miss Crawfords, in Lancaster, Pennsylvania. In a foreshadowing of her sense of fashion in adult life, Harriet complained about the “stiff necks of the dresses she was forced to wear” while at the school. The next year she joined her sister Mary Elizabeth at a finishing school in Charleston, Virginia. In his letters to young Harriet, James Buchanan

showed a decided and typical paternalistic benevolence. One letter from 1843 confided his greatest hopes for her: It is one of the first desires of my heart that you should become an amiable and a good girl. … How happy I should be to acknowledge and cherish you as an object of deep affection, could I say, she is kind in heart, amiable in temper, and behaves in such a manner as to secure the attention and esteem of all around her. (Moore, 1908–1911, 5: 435–436)

Buchanan’s letters to his orphaned wards frequently mixed a loving tone with a more imperious one. With James Buchanan Henry, uncle James could be overbearing and paternalistic. With Harriet Lane, by contrast, he harped less on academic performance and more on the risk of potential contenders for her affection. “Men are short‐sighted and know not the consequences of their own actions,” he wrote in 1846. “I should like nothing better than to see you well settled in life, but never think of marrying any man unless his moral habits are good and his business or his fortune will enable him to support you comfortably” (Moore, 1908–1911, 8: 422–423). In 1846 Harriet Lane, who now had the additional prestige of being the niece of the secretary of state, started attending the Georgetown Visitation Convent, which she graduated with honors three years later. The refining process paid off: Lane had become proficient in horseback riding, piano playing, and the art of human sympathy, all feminine qualities highly sought‐after among the elites of late antebellum America. In the years after her formal schooling, Harriet Lane continued to turn to her uncle for direction. Although possessed of a sizable inheritance herself, she nearly always took her uncle’s words to heart. For example, Buchanan took an interest in Lane’s development as a literary correspondent and copyist. “I think there is a decided improvement in your last letter,” he applauded in 1854.



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“Your great fault was that your sentences ran into each other without proper periods” (Moore, 1908–1911, 8: 503). In one of the few surviving letters from Lane to Buchanan, she added a telling line: “rest assured I am always happier and better satisfied with myself when my actions are sanctioned by your wishes” (Moore, 1908–1911, 8: 501). For his part, Buchanan seemed more eager to criticize the formal tone of Harriet’s letters than to offer any unguarded emotional expression; he unfailingly signed his letters with the relatively cool valediction: “yours affectionately.” Only rarely did James Buchanan openly express his emotions, even to his closest family members. Although few letters from Lane to her uncle survive, the voluminous extant correspondence in the other direction reveals that she wrote frequently to him. In these letters she regularly updated Buchanan on her personal affairs, including the many courtships in which she engaged. John Van Buren, a forty‐three‐year‐old widower, Free Soiler, and son of the former president initiated one such courtship. In response, Buchanan told his niece that he had told “[Van Buren] he would make for me a very rebellious nephew & would be hard to manage.” Buchanan discouraged the match, and he dismissed “Prince John’s” aspirations for Lane as so much “bagatelle” (Moore, 1908–1911, 9: 32–33). This would not be the last time Buchanan discouraged his niece from the advances of a potential suitor. With his appointment as minister to the Court of Saint James (that is, ambassador to Great Britain) in 1853, Buchanan prepared to travel across the Atlantic for England, initially without Lane. Upon his arrival in London in the fall, Minister Buchanan found social life to be quite dull. Although he reported to be “personally … content” with the situation, to Lane he exclaimed: “How rejoiced I am that you did not come with me!” With the “beau monde … at their country seats,” Buchanan predicted that she would find greater society in Lancaster than

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in the English capital (Moore, 1908–1911, 9: 37–39). Still, Lane persisted in her desire to accompany her uncle to England, and she departed in April of the following year, a time thought to be agreeable to transatlantic travel. Once she had arrived, Harriet Lane became a constant companion to her famous uncle—although, in a move that foreshadowed her role as first lady, she took occasional holidays away from him as well. Of this connection to her management of the White House in later years, Buchanan’s biographer Philip Klein mused that Lane’s “London training stood her in good stead and she managed her part with great cleverness and tact” (Klein, 1962: 274). Queen Victoria bestowed upon Lane the title of “Honorary Ambassadress”; London newspapers nicknamed her the “Girl Queen”; and, together, Harriet Lane, Teresa Bagioli Sickles, wife of Buchanan’s aide and future Civil War General Dan Sickles, and the wife of another of Buchanan’s aides were dubbed “the Three American Graces.” Lane was so popular that the University of Oxford granted her the honorary degree of Doctor of Civil Laws, a title she was conferred alongside Alfred Lord Tennyson (and she reportedly received a more vigorous applause from the assembled crowd than he did). In England Buchanan remained protective of his niece, who, although of marrying age, still did not avail herself readily to suitors. Perhaps as a reflection of her taste in older men, Lane was courted by the British aristocrat Sir Fitzroy Kelly, a man thirty‐four years her senior. Though Buchanan himself had courted women not much older than his niece, he discouraged her from pursuing the affair. Buchanan also disapproved of the intentions of Job Tyson, a thirty‐year‐old American who had traveled to England in order to continue courting Lane. In spite of these pursuits, Harriet Lane was to remain unmarried through her early adulthood. Whether this was entirely a function of her

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own desires or at least in part a result of Buchanan’s impositions is unclear. One observer of Harriet Lane during her years in England was Nathaniel Hawthorne, who served as America’s consul to the port city of Liverpool. In 1855 Hawthorne became personally acquainted with James Buchanan—who, as the minister of the legation to the Court of St. James, was the author’s direct superior in England—and with Harriet Lane. Of this encounter with Lane, John Updike noted that Hawthorne’s “impression, superficially favorable, of the vigorous violet‐ eyed, twenty‐five‐year‐old woman carries a note of reservation; one can feel the great dreamer’s fine nature rather cringe” (Updike, 1992: 263). But Updike did not know the half of it. The observations that Hawthorne recorded in his journal and later published in a two‐ volume set as The English Notebooks did not include several of his more incisive characterizations of Lane (presumably these were excised by Sophia Hawthorne prior to publication). Indeed, the full text from the author’s original manuscript has only recently been published. Here is the full entry from Hawthorne’s journal of January 9, 1855, with italics noting the differences from the first edition of the Notebooks: Mr. Buchanan’s niece (Miss Lane) has an English rather than an American aspect,— being of stronger outline than most of our girls, although handsomer than English women generally, and of better manners than any I have seen. Extremely self‐possessed and well poised, without affectation or assumption, but quietly conscious of rank, as much so as if she were an earl’s daughter;—in truth, she probably felt pretty much as an earl’s daughter would towards the merchants’ wives and daughters who made up the feminine portion of the party. Her gown was terribly low across the shoulders. I should judge her to be twenty‐ five, or thereabouts. I talked with her a little, and found her sensible, vivacious, and

firm‐textured, rather than soft and sentimental. She paid me some compliments; but I don’t remember paying her any. (Hawthorne, 1997, 21: 151)

Hawthorne’s comment on Lane’s “terribly low” gown foreshadowed a hallmark of her later sense of fashion as first lady. In addition, Hawthorne accurately assessed Lane to be twenty‐five years of age, an indication that the responsibilities assumed as her uncle’s hostess had not aged her unduly. In October 1855 Harriet Lane decided to leave Europe and return to the United States. Although this was clearly a difficult separation for both parties, distance permitted the exchange of numerous letters. From the content of Buchanan’s letters to Lane— her side of the correspondence does not survive—she appeared quite interested in his presidential prospects. For his part, Buchanan understood that Lane’s presence in the United States, especially in his home state of Pennsylvania, might carry great consequences for his selection by the Democratic Party. Accordingly, he advised her to avoid appearing too widely in public. “If I had any views to the Presidency, which I have not,” he wrote coyly in November 1855, “I would advise you not to remain longer in Philadelphia than you can well avoid” (Moore, 1908–1911, 9: 465–466). In most ways, however, their correspondence concerned family matters and at times mirrored the earlier pattern of guardian to ward. When her sister, Mary Elizabeth Speer Lane Baker, died unexpectedly in December 1855, Lane spiraled into a deep depression. After nearly a month of grieving, Buchanan wrote, in response to a letter, that he was “pained to learn that you neither see your friends nor take exercise since your return to Philadelphia.” Still, he felt compelled to add: “Your grief for poor Mary’s death, or at least the manifestation of it, exceeds all reasonable limits; & I am truly sorry that you have not more self command” (Moore, 1908–1911, 10: 3–4).



harriet rebecca lane johnston

In this context of family loss and presidential intrigue, James Buchanan returned to the United States in April 1856. Despite his public assertions to the contrary, his nomination two months later, at the convention of the Democratic Party, fulfilled the greatest wish of his life and gratified him as no other action could have. No record survives of Harriet Lane’s reaction to her uncle’s nomination or of her opinions about his candidacy and campaign; but, given her strong interest in politics and her constant inquiry into her uncle’s political aspirations, she undoubtedly supported him. On Election Day in November 1856, Lane awaited the results with Buchanan and other friends and family members at home. In a letter composed that night to her friend Lily Macalester, she expressed the belief that “the right will prevail” (manuscript, James Buchanan Family Papers, Lancaster County Historical Society). For all his continued chidings and constant counseling, Harriet Lane never wavered in her belief that her uncle’s election and the ascendance of the Democratic Party represented the best outcome for the future of the country. On March 4, 1857, over forty thousand people gathered to watch the inauguration of President James Buchanan. The celebrations continued well into the night. Some thirty‐ nine managers planned the inaugural ball, which was described as a “magnificent affair, held in an enormous wooden building.” Massive quantities of food were consumed, including memorably a “pyramid of cake four feet high, ornamented with a flag bearing the arms of every State and Territory” (Singleton, 1907, 2: 42). However, the ­highlight of the evening may very well have been the appearance of Harriet Lane. She was wearing a gown with the same low neckline as she had adopted in England, which featured a garland of fresh flowers and lace trim throughout. The dress, combined with her youth and beauty, attracted extensive coverage from reporters. “Miss Lane is one lady in ten thousand,” the New York Herald exclaimed

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(quoted in Killian, 2003: 5). The era of Harriet Lane in the Executive Mansion had begun. Just as historians have consistently claimed that Buchanan was among the most well prepared men to assume the presidency, Harriet Lane was equally ready to assume the role of hostess in the Executive Mansion. And just as Buchanan looked to the past examples of Washington and Jackson to model his stance, Lane conducted the social life of the Executive Mansion in a way that hearkened to the era of Dolley Madison. Indeed she had known Madison personally, from social visits that she had paid with her uncle to President James Knox Polk and his wife Sarah Childress Polk in the Executive Mansion; an early photograph from the middle 1840s captures Lane and Madison in the same frame. Dolley Madison’s influence could further be recognized in Lane’s style, particularly the “elaborate headdress of flowers or marabou feathers [that] was de rigueur for a levee” (Pryor, 1904: 48–49). But unlike Dolley Madison, who had been an equal partner in her husband’s political career a half‐century before, Harriet Lane was in the position of a younger dependent, which meant that she more readily deferred to Buchanan’s wishes. Through this limitation she modeled something of an idealized Victorian womanhood, then becoming current in England and, by extension, in the United States. For all her paeans to Victorian womanhood, Harriet Lane promoted a festive atmosphere that became a hallmark of the Buchanan administration. Sara Agnes Rice Pryor fondly remembered decades later: “Washington was never gayer than during this administration.” The entertainment included “morning receptions, evening receptions, dinners, musicales, children’s parties, old‐fashioned evening parties with music and supper, and splendid balls.” So many functions vied for attention that Washington’s socialites often “attended three balls in one evening” (Pryor, 1904: 48–49).

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Perhaps the greatest of these affairs was the costume party given by Mary Bell Gwin, wife of the California senator William McKendree Gwin, on April 8, 1858. Although he did not regularly attend parties, President Buchanan joined Mary Bell Gwin in the receiving line that night. In contrast, social life at the Executive Mansion proper personified many aspects of the English court system with which Harriet Lane had become familiar. Even Buchanan’s archest political opponents were taken with the new hostess. Mississippi senator Jefferson Davis, although opposed to the administration in his politics, favorably remembered that the Buchanan administration “approached more to my idea of the Republican Court of the President’s House than any before since the days of Washington” (Davis, 1890, 1: 223). Likewise, Buchanan’s sworn enemy, John W. Forney of Pennsylvania, could not help but admire Harriet Lane’s management of the Executive Mansion, admitting that she was “the most accomplished young Mistress of the presidential mansion in modern times” (Forney, 1873–1881, 2: 312). To honor the dazzling young woman, the treasury department, under the direction of Secretary Howell Cobb (who for a time lived with Buchanan in the Executive Mansion) commissioned the USS Harriet Lane as the nation’s newest revenue cutter. As noted, President Buchanan preferred the “republican simplicity” of an earlier era. He was also highly scrupulous and exceedingly wary of unnecessary expenditure of public dollars. He instructed Harriet never to accept personal gifts of any kind. Likewise, he ordered formal dinners to be adorned with few flowers and the simplest of decorations. Most severely of all, Buchanan forbade large parties (though he did permit weekly concerts on the lawn of the White House). Nevertheless, he explicitly entrusted the party‐planning Lane with the congressional budget for the Executive Mansion. In response to the prohibition on parties, Harriet Lane commandeered the

USS Harriet Lane for a cruise along the Potomac River on at least two occasions. When President Buchanan learned of her actions, he declared the appropriation to be an improper usage of governmental resources and informed his niece that he had instructed the navy department “to put a stop to the practice” (Moore, 1908–1911, 10: 214, 323–324). As the disagreement over the usage of the USS Harriet Lane suggests, President Buchanan was not always in complete accord with his official hostess. His biographer Phillip Klein found that Harriet Lane “complained and chafed under the need to suppress all her feelings for ‘Nunc’s sake’” (Klein, 1962: 332). In a holdover from his previous position as her surrogate father, Buchanan regularly received, and at times read, Lane’s personal correspondence. In one such instance, Lane devised a clever method to circumvent her uncle’s prying eyes. Since the president insisted on the delivery of household butter from Pennsylvania, a kettle often went back and forth between Philadelphia and Washington. Lane had a lock and two keys made for the kettle and, when it was at the Executive Mansion, she could tuck private letters inside it. Once in Philadelphia, the kettle could be opened and the letters sent to their intended recipient, in this case to Lane’s close friend Sophie W. Plitt (Klein, 1962: 333). The differences between uncle and niece did not go unnoticed by contemporaries. One female observer attributed the disagreement to Buchanan being a “hardened old bachelor,” set in his ways. Away from the prying eyes of her uncle, Lane often retreated with friends to the newly built greenhouse on the west side of the White House. During the worst of these clashes, Lane visited friends in New York, Philadelphia, and Lancaster, usually when the Congress was not in session. When asked whether he missed his niece on these occasions, Buchanan replied, “I do not



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care how long she stays. I can do very well without her” (quoted in Klein, 1962: 332). Other observers echoed the president’s ambivalence toward his hostess, often negatively lumping the two together. In a l­ etter to Mary Ann Cobb from Kate Thompson, the wife of Secretary of the Interior Jacob Thompson, she sarcastically called Buchanan the “greatest President that we have had since Washington and Jackson,” further jibing: “And Miss Lane, the model of an American girl!!” (quoted in Klein, 1962: 334). On the whole, however, the president’s young niece attracted more positive attention than not, most notably in the form of southern gentlemen callers. Laurence M. Keitt, the noted fire‐eater and representative from South Carolina, may have courted her. Another congressman from the Palmetto state also found her fascinating: William P. Miles, who had once been a professor of mathematics at South Carolina College. “Is she not the personification of a high‐bred lady from head to foot?” Miles reputedly asked. Lane, aware of her admirer, “plucked a spray of mignonette … and gave the flowers” to Miles (Pryor, 1904: 55). Mary Chesnut remembered that Harriet Lane had eleven suitors in total, including Keitt, Miles and Thomas L. Clingman of North Carolina (Woodward, 1981: 115). Yet, as Lane’s letters to her friend Sophie Plitt suggest, she did not seriously consider any of these men. Like many unmarried women of her age, Harriet Lane enjoyed close female friendships, such as those with Plitt and Lily Macalester, and with female family members, including Harriet Buchanan Lane and Anne Buchanan. Whenever possible, Lane spent her time away from Washington with these friends, but even then she could never escape her uncle’s broad sphere of influence. One of her best friends in New York became Cornelia Roosevelt, with whom Buchanan had maintained an intimate correspondence in his own right. Moreover,

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Lane enjoyed the friendship of Catherine Parrish Ellis, whose uncle, William Rufus King, had been an intimate friend of Buchanan for nearly twenty years. Such connections abounded throughout her life. Although she enjoyed the freedom to leave Washington, Harriet Lane was always present to host social functions during important state visits. One of the most historically prescient encounters took place on May 14, 1860, when a delegation of three Japanese ambassadors arrived in Washington to deliver a treaty between the two nations. Three days later the delegation rode in carriages to the Executive Mansion to meet President Buchanan. Fascinated with the visitors, the intrepid Harriet Lane reportedly asked one delegate if she might inspect his ceremonial sword, a request that he obliged with a smile. At a later banquet organized in the delegates’ honor, Lane further inquired about the customs of women in Japanese society. She also accepted with grace a large blue water bowl as the gift from the emperor of Japan to the United States (Finn, 2003: 30–33, 37–38). The bowl is now on display at James Buchanan’s home at Wheatland, though for a time it was reportedly used to serve punch during the administration of Abraham Lincoln. While the Japanese delegation was perhaps the most unusual group of visitors to the White House, the most important state visitor was Prince Albert Edward, later King Edward VII, in October 1860. Separated by nearly a decade in age, the older Harriet Lane and the younger Prince Albert had known each other during Buchanan’s time as minister to the Court of St. James, and they apparently enjoyed a friendly and competitive relationship. During his visit to the United States, Lane took the prince to a gymnasium attached to a female seminary. When the two engaged in a game of tenpins, the robust Harriet Lane was said to have “out‐bowled the Prince and put his muscle to shame.” Writing back to Queen Victoria, the prince referred to Lane as

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“a particularly nice person and very pretty” (quoted in Perrine, 1906: 12). For her part, Lane wrote to Sophie Plitt that the prince was “a charming little fellow – full of fun and jokes” (quoted in Perrine, 1906: 12). Lane also accompanied President Buchanan and Prince Albert, along with many officers of the Cabinet and members of Congress, on a trip to Mt. Vernon to visit the tomb of George Washington. A portrait in the Smithsonian American Art Museum—later given by Harriet Lane Johnston to that institution’s predecessor—commemorated the landmark visit. Given her later interests as a philanthropist, it should come as little surprise that Harriet Lane aspired to improve the lots of those less fortunate than she. In February 1858 she received a letter of thanks from Wingematub, a member of the Chippewa tribe in Wisconsin, for her help in removing a federal agent who distributed liquor among his tribesmen. President Buchanan wrote about that letter to Harriet, who was  then in New York: “You have been hailed as ‘the great Mother of the Indians,’ & it must gratify you to learn that your adopted countrymen desire to perpetuate your name by giving it to their children” (Moore, 1908–1911, 10: 319). Lane also lamented the institution of slavery, even though, like her uncle, she felt that time alone could solve the problem (Taylor, 1963: 220–221). However, little evidence survives that directly addresses Lane’s view on slavery or opinions of African Americans more generally. Besides her nickname as the “democratic queen,” Harriet Lane also provided inspiration for another name, one that has long outlasted her term of office: “first lady.” The name originated in the March 31, 1860 issue of Frank Leslie’s Illustrated Newspaper, in an article that called her both the “presiding lady of the White House” and the “first lady in the land.” By that time the American public had come to know much about Harriet Lane. For four years, her charming

graces had helped to ease the country’s concerns about sectional tensions and to ­ draw people’s attention to the affairs of Washington’s high society. Retrospectively nearly every historian has freely applied the phrase “first lady” to the various wives and relatives of the presidents who preceded James Buchanan. They are mistaken in this deployment, not just for semantic reasons, but because of its implicit removal of Harriet Lane and James Buchanan from the origins of the phrase. Only Harriet Lane’s particular circumstances could have introduced such a title: “first lady in the land” at once evokes the image of an elite woman, similar to those ladies who composed the English royalty, and the social hostess of an unmarried chief executive of a democratic nation. At the end of Buchanan’s term as president Harriet Lane prepared to retire with him to his estate at Wheatland, near Lancaster. On the eve of the inauguration of Abraham Lincoln, the city of Washington celebrated the outgoing president and his first lady in grand style, feting them with a demonstration of more than four thousand before the Executive Mansion (Perrine, 1906: 42). During the subsequent years of war, Lane visited friends for months at a time, mostly in Baltimore, Philadelphia, and New York. She also traveled to Washington on occasion, where she attended an afternoon reception given by Mary Todd Lincoln (Park, 2006: 12). James Buchanan spent most of the war preparing the manuscript that would become Mr. Buchanan’s Administration on the Eve of Rebellion, published in 1865 to little notice and mostly ignored ever since. On the occasions when Lane returned to her uncle’s home, she often read correspondence to him and occasionally copied some of his letters. The end of the Civil War found Harriet Lane nearing middle age and still unmarried. She had sacrificed the prime of her young adulthood in willing companionship to her uncle, but the elderly Buchanan could not deny his niece any longer. In October



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1865 she announced her engagement to Henry Elliot Johnston, a Baltimore banker and a man whom she had known for years, from trips to the Bedford Springs resort in the western mountains of Pennsylvania. Quite likely, the two had reignited their attraction to one another at Bedford Springs during the summer months of 1865. On January 11, 1866, Lane married Johnston, in a ceremony officiated by Reverend Edward Y. Buchanan (her uncle and first guardian) in the front parlor at Wheatland. In the first letter to his newly married niece, James Buchanan dutifully began with the salutation “My dear Mrs. Johnston.” As in previous letters, he maintained his usual decorum, writing: “I am much gratified with the tone of your letter and think we have embarked on a sea of matrimony with a fair prospect that the voyage will be happy” (Moore, 1908–1911, 10: 409). On June 1, 1868, James Buchanan died at his home at Wheatland (the Johnstons later inherited the estate, which they used as a summer residence until the 1880s). Even before her uncle’s death, Harriet Lane Johnston had begun to assume the role of protector of his legacy. Buchanan’s first biographer, William B. Reed, proved inadequate to the task. After much persistence on Harriet’s part, the Buchanan papers, which had been loaned to Reed for his work, were returned and placed in the hands of George Ticknor Curtis, who proved a far more able biographer (Rosenberger, 1968: 138–140). In her commitment to the preservation of the memory of James Buchanan, Harriet Lane Johnston ultimately would achieve perhaps the most significant accomplishment from the perspective of future historians: the preservation of the papers of James Buchanan (and later, her own). With her marriage, Harriet Lane Johnston assumed the responsibilities of a wife and, later, those of a mother in her usually competent way (the care of a private household likely paled in comparison to her duties as first lady). After taking their honeymoon in

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Havana, Cuba, the Johnstons settled in Baltimore at a townhome on West Monument Street, where they resided together during the remainder of their marriage. Henry Elliot Johnston continued his affiliation with the Bank of Johnston Brothers & Co. (co‐ founded with his brother Josiah Lee Johnston in 1853) and engaged in speculation in the Baltimore Stock Exchange, of which he had been a long‐standing member. Although Henry Elliot Johnston was a man of some standing in the community, he appears hardly at all in the public record—an absence that led the amateur historian and physician Dr. Edwards A. Park to surmise: “He must have had a fulltime career of being Harriet Lane’s husband” (manuscript, Edwards A.  Park Papers, Alan Mason Chesney Medical Archives of Johns Hopkins Medical Institutions). The marriage of Harriet Lane and Henry Johnston proved happy for a time. Two sons came from the union: James Buchanan Johnston (who was called Buch), born on November 21, 1866, and Henry Elliot Johnston Junior, born on March 24, 1870. As a sign of piety, Harriet named the first‐ born son after James Buchanan; only once this debt was paid could the second son be named after his father. The Johnston children were short‐lived. In what must have been the greatest tragedy of Harriet’s life, both her sons died within a year of each other, James Buchanan Johnston on March 25, 1881, and Henry Junior on January 30, 1882—the latter despite a trip to Nice on the French Riviera in an attempt to improve his health. The primary cause of their death was officially listed as “endocarditis,” the secondary cause being “pneumonia.” Most likely they died of a rheumatic fever caused by bacterial infection, a condition untreatable until the discovery of antibiotics in the 1920s. The tragic death of her two sons compelled Harriet Lane Johnston to establish a hospital for the care of sick and invalid children. Incorporated on December 24, 1883,

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as the Harriet Lane Home for Invalid Children of Baltimore City, the clinic served all needy children under the age of fourteen in the Baltimore area, regardless of race. The original trustees of the home included several relatives of Henry E. Johnston. One year later Henry Elliot Johnston himself died of pneumonia in New York, having gone to that place to receive medical care. Within a period of two years, Harriet Lane Johnston had lost two children and her husband, a sorrowful fate shared not even by her tragic predecessor in the Executive Mansion, Jane Pierce. Despite these devastating developments, the indefatigable Harriet Lane Johnston enjoyed something of a second career as a philanthropist, art collector, and dame of Washington society. Not long after the death of her husband, Harriet moved from Baltimore to a townhome on the southwest corner of the intersection of Connecticut Avenue and K Street in Washington, DC. In the fall of 1894 she moved to an elegant home nearby, at 18th and I Streets, NW, where she entertained, built her art collection, and supported philanthropic efforts to construct the national episcopal cathedral in Washington. She lived for many of those years with her husband’s cousin, May Kennedy, who would eventually donate the remaining letters of Harriet Lane Johnston (as well as many of James Buchanan) to the Library of Congress in 1918. Ever faithful to her uncle’s Democratic Party, Harriet Lane Johnston continued to be a prominent public figure. With the inauguration of President Grover Cleveland in 1884, a Democrat occupied the White House again, for the first time since James Buchanan. In 1886 President Cleveland married the stunningly beautiful and exceedingly young Frances Folsom, who at the age  of twenty‐one was even younger than Harriet Lane had been when she became hostess of the Executive Mansion. Perhaps because of these similarities, or perhaps because of the Cleveland administration’s

return to Democratic Party principles, Harriet Lane Johnston enjoyed a friendly relationship with the new first family. Newspapers of the time, particularly the Washington Post, noted Johnston’s social interactions with Frances Cleveland. Even beyond the conclusion of their time in the White House, Johnston and the Clevelands continued on the warmest of personal terms. A recently recovered letter (now in the collections of Dickinson College Library) reveals that Harriet later visited with the Clevelands in New Jersey. On July 3, 1903, Harriet Lane Johnston died of cancer while at her summer residence in Narragansett Pier, Rhode Island. She was buried in the Green Mount Cemetery in Baltimore, next to the remains of her husband and her two children. Upon her request, flowers have been laid at the site of her grave on the anniversary of her birthday—a request lately filled by the nursing staff of the pediatrics department of Johns Hopkins University Hospital. The attention to her grave may be explained by her indirect generosity to that institution. In her will (dated July 1, 1895) she bequeathed more than $400,000 to the children’s clinic that already carried her name, for the construction of a building designed to serve as a permanent home. The Harriet Lane Home for Invalid Children opened its door in 1912 and stood until its demolition in 1974. A plaque in the building commemorated the Johnstons and their two children, in “perpetual witness of the love and sorrow of the wife and mother which quickened and deepened her devotion to the relief of the sufferings of childhood” (Park, 2006, iv). Although the Harriet Lane Home does not survive, the name “Harriet Lane” is still attached to the pediatrics residency program at the Johns Hopkins University Hospital, and its graduates are still called “Harriet Laners.” The Harriet Lane Handbook, updated each year by hospital staff, continues to be an essential resource to doctors unto the present day.



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Harriet Lane Johnston’s philanthropy continued further still. In addition to her bequest to the Harriet Lane Home, Johnston also left $150,000 to a school for the education of the choirboys of the Washington Cathedral, which eventually became part of the St. Albans School for Boys in Washington. Her gift of artwork helped to form the basis of the Smithsonian Institution’s National Collection of Fine Arts (renamed the Smithsonian American Art Museum in 1968). Finally, Harriet gave over $100,000 to build a monument to James Buchanan in Washington, DC. After years of effort and using her full private funding, the US Congress agreed to commission a memorial to Pennsylvania’s only president in 1916 (though it was not fully approved until 1918, and not completed and unveiled until June 26, 1930). Erected in Meridian Park, the memorial features a statue of James Buchanan, bookended by male and female classical figures representing law and diplomacy and engraved with a quotation from his attorney general, Jeremiah S. Black: “The incorruptible statesman whose walk was upon the mountain ranges of the law.” In this memorialization of her uncle, Harriet Lane Johnston fulfilled what she saw as her familial duty to America’s last antebellum president. With the coming of the First World War and the passing of those who remembered the United States before the Civil War, the era of active reminiscence about Harriet Lane as first lady had concluded. Still, some occasionally recalled her. John L. Finefrock of Mercersburg, Pennsylvania, gave one such useful account around 1940. “When we are younger,” Finefrock began, we sometimes are disappointed at the first sight of the great or well‐known. Even kings and queens in the movie news sometimes disappoint. Harriet Lane never disappointed. She looked the part. When I saw her at the age of 71, two years before her death, the golden hair of her youth

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had darkened and turned gray, but she was a splendid stately woman. (Manuscript, James Buchanan Correspondence, 1837– 1849, Special Collections Library of Pennsylvania State University)

For the woman who never disappointed in person, Finefrock might have been disappointed to know that the name Harriet Lane would hardly be remembered by most Americans in the years ahead. She is more remembered among medical practitioners for her generosity to pediatric medicine than the American public recalls her for her position as “first lady in the land.” Even in Baltimore, the city where she spent much of her adult life, she occasions only passing interest, as evidenced by the sporadic appearance of a­ rticles in local newspapers. That most historians of James Buchanan and the antebellum period more generally have overlooked Harriet Lane Johnston is especially ironic, given her early attention, and even praise, from Buchanan’s earliest biographer and editor, George T. Curtis. Of course, Curtis knew Harriet Lane Johnston personally, having been specifically chosen by her to prepare his two‐volume Life of Buchanan (Curtis, 1883). Johnston had even aided Curtis by providing “a great quantity of her uncle’s letters” to the available collection (Curtis, 1883, 1: ix)— another indication of her lifelong devo­tion to her uncle’s legacy. But Johnston’s importance to Buchanan’s life went beyond her role as steward of his papers. In chapter 18 of his work, Curtis noted: “A biography of  Mr. Buchanan would be exceedingly imperfect without mention of that member of his family who, for the last twenty‐five years of his life, stood in a very intimate domestic relation with him” (Curtis, 1883, 1: 531). John Bassett Moore, the second greater chronicler of James Buchanan, likewise understood the importance of Harriet Lane Johnston to her uncle’s life. Moore also mentioned the “exceptional relation” between

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Buchanan and his niece, beginning his Editorial Note with the following remarks: The publication of the works of James Buchanan, in the present comprehensive form, was assured by the action of the late  Mrs. Henry E. Johnston, formerly Harriet Lane, who, toward the close of her ­interesting and well‐spent life, determined to give this final proof of her devotion to  her  uncle’s memory. To those who have  read the excellent biography of Buchanan w ­ritten by George Ticknor Curtis, and published by the Harpers in  1883, it is unnecessary to speak of the  exceptional relation which subsisted between Buchanan and his niece, a r­ elation characterized on the one side by perfect care and confidence, and on the other by a loyalty and veneration that never wavered. (Moore, 1908–1911, 1: v)

In his 12 volumes of published correspondence, speeches, and other papers, Moore cited some ninety‐five letters from James Buchanan to Harriet Lane Johnston (and one in the other direction), a total of outgoing letters greater than from any other correspondent. Nevertheless, Moore’s project was more editorial than biographical. Because of this distinction, he offered precious little of his own perspective on Harriet Lane’s significance to Buchanan’s life. Both George T. Curtis and John B. Moore knew Harriet Lane Johnston personally, which may explain their esteem for Buchanan’s niece. In the next generation of scholarship, by contrast, Harriet Lane received no such recognition. She appears hardly at all even in the grandest “coming of the Civil War” narratives popular a half‐ century ago, such as those by Avery Craven (1942), Roy Nichols (1948), or Allan Nevins (1950). As noted, Philip Klein (1962) hardly mentioned Harriet Lane and, when he did, it was mostly in the negative—a suggestion that his biography would have been deemed “exceedingly imperfect” by the standards of George T.

Curtis. Regardless of this, the omission seems to have written Lane out of political history altogether; for Klein’s biography has stood largely unchallenged as the definitive biography of Buchanan for more than five decades. Neither the more recent offering by Jean Baker (2004) nor the academic scholarship on Buchanan’s presidency— such as the essays in the edited volumes prepared by Michael Birkner (1996) or by John Quist and Michael Birkner (2013)— attempt to bring Harriet Lane back into the equation. Only a relatively few self‐published works have endeavored to reintroduce Lane to history, those by Charles Kessler (2003) and Milton Stern (2004, 2005) being the most notable. These latter works, however, are more tribute pieces to their subjects than serious works of scholarship. The prospects for Harriet Lane’s recognition in the story of the antebellum United States thus seem to have diminished with the passage of time. Redressing this gap would require, at the very least, a systematic cataloging of the extant correspondence of Harriet Lane Johnston. Because of the scattered nature of her papers and the relative obscurity of many of the historical works about her, such an effort has rarely been undertaken. The largest and most important collection of manuscript letters related to Harriet Lane Johnston may be found in the Manuscript Division of the Library of Congress. In 1976 her collected papers were microfilmed onto four reels, complete with an exhaustive index of correspondents, and were made available as the James Buchanan and Harriet (Lane) Johnston Papers. Since that time, additional materials have been added to the collection, though relatively few of these additions have directly concerned Harriet Lane Johnston. Several other manuscript collections related to Harriet Lane Johnston are also important. These include the James Buchanan Papers at the Historical Society of Pennsylvania, which contains extensive



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material about the operation of the Executive Mansion between 1857 and 1861, as well as a significant number of letters about Harriet Lane Johnston’s involvement in the preparation of James Buchanan’s biography. Several letters to or from Harriet Lane Johnston can be found in the James Buchanan Collection, the Wheatland‐Klein Collection, the newly processed James Buchanan Family Papers, and the as yet unprocessed Harriet Lane Johnston Papers, all at the Lancaster County Historical Society. Equally important is the collection of manuscript papers related to Harriet Lane Johnston in the James Buchanan Papers held in the Archives and Special Collections Library at Dickinson College. Quite fortunately for scholars, the Dickinson College Library has steadily acquired additional letters related to Harriet Lane Johnston, including several exchanged between Lily Macalester and her father Charles Macalester, between Lily Macalester and Harriet Lane, and between Harriet Lane Johnston and Frances Cleveland. All of the letters are available through the library’s extensive digital collections, and many include useful transcriptions. Other letters of Harriet Lane are variously scattered. The Mount Vernon Ladies Association in the Fred W. Smith National Library for the Study of George Washington at Mount Vernon holds a collection of letters from Harriet Lane to Lily Macalester (copies of which are also available in the still to be accessioned Harriet Lane Johnston Papers at the Lancaster County Historical Association). The Reynolds Family Papers in the Archives and Special Collections Department of Franklin and Marshall College Library contains letters from Harriet Lane to Eleanor Reynolds. Although not containing original manuscripts, the institutional records of the Harriet Lane Home for Invalid Children Institutional Records at the Alan Mason Chesney Medical Archives of Johns Hopkins Medical Institutions are useful,

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especially the notes and letters of Dr. Edwards A. Park. The remembrance of John L. Finefrock is housed in the James Buchanan Correspondence, 1837–1849, in the Special Collections Library of Pennsylvania State University. Transcriptions of the letters of Harriet Lane have appeared sporadically. George T. Curtis (1883) offered incomplete, partial transcriptions of letters exchanged between Buchanan and Lane, while John B. Moore (1908–1911) provided more accurate and fuller transcriptions of many of the letters that eventually came to form the James Buchanan and Harriet (Lane) Johnston Papers at the Library of Congress. Moore’s 12‐volume set remains the best single printed source of James Buchanan’s letters, including those to Harriet Lane Johnston. Nevertheless, Moore’s editorial principles involved protecting the living descendants of the Buchanan family, which meant at times excising valuable personal information about Buchanan, Lane, and their associates. The original letters should be consulted in these instances. The exclusion of Harriet Lane from recent studies of antebellum American history deserves correction, for she was one of the most memorable women of Washington society since Dolley Madison. While her legacy as a philanthropist and benefactor to pediatric medical education seems secure, if historians are to do her justice, she should be remembered as the inspiration for the phrase “first lady.”

References Auchampaugh, P. G. 1939. “James Buchanan, the Bachelor of the White House: An Inquiry on the Subject of Feminine Influence in the Life of Our Fifteenth President.” Tyler’s Quarterly Historical and Genealogical Magazine 20 (3–4): 154–166, 218–234. Baker, J. H. 2004. James Buchanan. New York: Henry Holt.

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Birkner, M. J., ed. 1996. James Buchanan and the Political Crisis of the 1850s. Selinsgrove, PA: Susquehanna University Press. Cahalan, S. S. 1991. “Harriet Lane: The Public Years with James Buchanan, 1854–1861: A Study of Proper Victorian Womanhood.” MA thesis, Pennsylvania State University at Harrisburg. Clay‐Clopton, V. 1905. A Belle of the Fifties: Memoirs of Mrs. Clay, of Alabama, Covering Social and Political Life in Washington and the South, 1853–66. New York: Doubleday, Page & Co. Craven, A. 1942. The Coming of the Civil War. New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons. Curtis, G. T. 1883. Life of James Buchanan: Fifteenth President of the United States, 2 vols. New York: Harper & Brothers. Davis, V. H. 1890. Jefferson Davis, Ex‐President of the Confederate States of America: A Memoir, 2 vols. New York: Belford Co. DeLeon, T. C. 1909. Belles, Beaux, and Brains of the ’60s. New York: G. W. Dillingham Co. Finn, D. 2003. “Guests of the Nation: The Japanese Delegation to the Buchanan White House.” White House History: Journal of the White House Historical Association 12, pp. 372–96. Forney, J. W. 1873–1881. Anecdotes of Public Men, 2 vols. New York: Harper & Brothers. Hawthorne, N. 1997. “The English Notebooks.” In The Centenary Edition of the Works of Nathaniel Hawthorne, vols. 21–22, edited by T. Woodson and B. Ellis. Athens, GA: Ohio State University Press. Holloway, L. C. 1881. The Ladies of the White House; Or, In the Home of the Presidents. Philadelphia: Bradley & Co. Kessler, C. H. 2003. President Buchanan, Trapped in a Whirlwind: Harriet Lane, Torn Between Love and Loyalty. Bloomington, IN: 1stBooks. Killian, P. 2003. “James Buchanan’s White House Hostess: The Celebrated Harriet Lane.” White House History: Journal of the White House Historical Association 12: 362–371. Klein, P. S. 1962. President James Buchanan: A Biography. Newtown, CT: Pennsylvania State University Press. Klein, P. S. 1967. “Bachelor Father and Family Man.” Western Pennsylvania Historical Magazine 50 (3): 199–214.

Moore, J. B., ed. 1908–1911. The Works of James Buchanan, 12 vols. Philadelphia: Lippincott. Nevins, A. 1950. Ordeal of the Union, vol. 2: The Emergence of Lincoln: Douglas, Buchanan, and Party Crisis, 1857–1859; Prologue to Civil War, 1857–1861. New York: Scribner’s. Nichols, R. F. 1948. The Disruption of American Democracy. New York: Macmillan. Park, E. A. 2006. “Foreword: The Harriet Lane Home: A Living Monument to Harriet Lane Johnston.” In The Harriet Lane Home: A Model and a Gem, edited by E. A. Park, J. W. Littlefield, H. M. Seidel, and L. S. Wissow, 1–21. Baltimore, MD: Johns Hopkins University Press. Perrine, W. 1906. “The Brilliant Social Reign of Harriet Lane: Eighth Part of ‘A Story of Beautiful Women.’” Ladies Home Journal 18 (6): 11–12, 42. Pryor, S. A. R. 1904. Reminiscences of Peace and War. New York: Macmillan. Quist, J. W., and M. J. Birkner, eds. 2013. James Buchanan and the Coming of the Civil War. Gainesville: University Press of Florida. Roberts II, J. 2003. Rating the First Ladies: The Women Who Influenced the Presidency. New York: Citadel. Rosenberger, H. T. 1968. “Protecting the Buchanan Papers.” Journal of the Lancaster County Historical Society 72 (3): 137–169. Singleton, E. 1907. The Story of the White House. 2 vols. New York: McClure Co. Stern, M. 2004. America’s Bachelor President and the First Lady. Baltimore, MD: PublishAmerica. Stern, M. 2005. Harriet Lane: America’s First Lady. n.p.: Lulu Press. Taylor, L. C., Jr. 1963. “Harriet Lane—Mirror of an Age.” Pennsylvania History 30 (2), pp. 212–225. Updike, J. 1974. Buchanan Dying: A Play. New York: Alfred A. Knopf. Updike, J. 1992. Memories of the Ford Administration. New York: Alfred A. Knopf. Woodward, C. V., ed. 1981. Mary Chesnut’s Civil War. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press.

Further Reading Anthony, C. S. 1984. “From Maryland’s Past: Harriet Lane Johnston.” Maryland Magazine, May: 19.



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Auchampaugh, P. G. 1931–1932. “James Buchanan, the Squire from Lancaster: The Squire’s Home Town.” The Pennsylvania Magazine of History and Biography 55–56 (4 and 1): 289–300, 15–32. Beggs, T. M. 1954. “Harriet Lane Johnston and the National Collection of Fine Arts.” Smithsonian Institution Annual Report, pp. 443–448. Brandt, N. 1991. The Congressman Who Got Away with Murder. Syracuse, NY: Syracuse University Press. Engleheart, J. G. D. 1860. Journal of the Progress of HRH the Prince of Wales through British North America; and His Visit to the United States, 10th July to 15th November, 1860. Privately printed. Faulkner, C. 2003. “President Buchanan Greets a Guest of State: The Prince of Wales.” White House History: Journal of the White House Historical Association 12: 410–419. Hostetter, I. L. K. 1929. “Harriet Lane (Later Harriet Lane Johnston).” Journal of the Lancaster County Historical Society 32 (6): 97–112.

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Hurlburt, S. A. 1934. “A Brief History of St. Albans School.” Washington, DC: St. Albans Press. Klein, P. S. 1966. “Harriet Lane.” Valleys of History 2: 1–15. Rosenberger, H. T. 1957–1959. “Inauguration of President Buchanan a Century Ago.” Records of the Columbia Historical Society, Washington, DC 57/59: 96–122. Rosenberger, H. T. 1966–1968. “Harriet Lane, First Lady: Hostess Extraordinary in Difficult Times.” Records of the Columbia Historical Society, Washington, DC 66/68: 102–115. Rosenberger, H. T. 1971. “To What Extent Did Harriet Lane Influence the Public Policies of James Buchanan?” Journal of the Lancaster County Historical Society 74 (1): 1–22. Watson, R. P. 2001. First Ladies of the United States: A Biographical Directory. Boulder, CO: Lynne Rienner. Washington Post. 1892. “Harriet Lane’s Load of Wood: A Story of the ‘Golden Beauty’ of  the White House.” Washington Post, February 7: 16.

Chapter Thirteen

Mary Todd Lincoln William D. Pederson

Introduction As evident in the disparate conclusions that scholars and others have reached about Mary Lincoln in the years since she first emerged on the national political stage by the side of Abraham Lincoln, her husband, she was and remains a controversial figure (Williams and Burkhimer, 2012). She may indeed rank “among the most detested public women in American history” (Baker, 2001: xiii). Mary Lincoln is often the butt of bad jokes among historians, many of  whom have rated her the worst first lady  (Klemesrud, 1982; Watson, 1999: 123). In the current popular culture, too, she is vilified as “an addict” and “a hoarder,” her spending “an embarrassment” to Lincoln (Keko, 2011). To characterize Mary Todd Lincoln in the vernacular of a modern comic—she doesn’t get any respect. Yet that is slowly changing. Taken in the context of the mid‐nineteenth century and the history of the American presidency, Mary Todd Lincoln (1818– 1882) may be viewed as a transitional figure along the lines of Dolley Madison and Eleanor Roosevelt, whose similarly strong personalities defined the first lady as being more than a social hostess. Mary Todd Lincoln deliberately chose to become a public

figure in politics by using her position as the spouse of a politician and president to satisfy her own ambitions in what was then exclusively a man’s milieu. Moreover, she did this during the American Civil War, a time when families—especially her own—as well as the nation were ripped apart by opposing beliefs and loyalties. Although it would have been understandable during such an era, she didn’t retreat behind the walls of the Executive Mansion. It was Abraham Lincoln’s leadership in the Civil War that set the standard for all subsequent American presidents and secured for him the distinction of being widely recognized as the greatest democratic leader in world history. As a result, more books have been written about Lincoln and there are more streets, schools, and stamps in his honor abroad than for any other American president (Pederson, 2009: 126–127; Tripathy, Rath, and Pederson, 2010: 9–14). Mary Todd Lincoln is referenced in many of  the publications about her husband and,  while drawing much less attention, she nonetheless shares a significant place in American history alongside him. Just as Lincoln was to be tested, in his constitutional role as president, in the matter of secession, his wife was to be judged for her actions as the first lady. When Mary

A Companion to First Ladies, First Edition. Edited by Katherine A. S. Sibley. © 2016 John Wiley & Sons, Inc. Published 2016 by John Wiley & Sons, Inc.



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Todd Lincoln assumed this role, it was still evolving. There were no norms or rules to follow as the president’s spouse—only custom. The phrase “first lady” had only just come into common use with Harriet Lane (see Chapter 12 in this volume). In their complementary roles, the Lincolns may have been the most criticized president and spouse in office. Mary was “brutalized by  her husband’s critics, the press and Washington society on both personal and political levels unprecedented in US politics” (Watson, 2000: 36). These attacks encompassed everything, from her looks to her furnishings to her political interests (Baker, 1987:180–187). All the same, both Lincolns have endured amazingly well in the more than one hundred and fifty years of intense scrutiny that have ensued. While ninth from the bottom in the Siena College First Lady Poll (2014), Mary is one of the few first ladies who are familiar to the general public today in their own right. She found her own voice as first lady (Clinton, 2012: 351; Baker, 1996: 189–190). This chapter assesses the historical record on Mary Lincoln both as an individual and as part of a presidential couple. It begins with a biographical sketch that emphasizes the importance of Mary Todd Lincoln’s geographical and social origins as an “outsider.” In many ways she appeared to be the  quintessentially aristocratic southern belle. However, historians have identified her as an outsider in that antebellum cultural landscape due to the indelible influences of her father—his progressive views on  education for women and on race, in particular, as well as his loyalty as a Whig. At the same time, his quick remarriage after the death of Mary’s mother raised a few eyebrows among his peers (Winkle, 2011: 11–12). Even so, to all appearances Mary continued to present herself as a southern belle; it was a dimension that she had no interest in abandoning, for it helped to define her. Yet her ambitions, which commanded awe among contemporaries (Burlingame,

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2009), coupled with her status as a highly educated woman, made Mary Todd Lincoln an anomaly among most females of her generation. Second, this chapter focuses on portrayals of her marriage to Lincoln and of her ambitions—for him and for herself. For her, marrying Lincoln meant that she married significantly lower on the social ladder, while he “married up.” Both of them knew it, and both knew that this would not prevent what they sought. By that time Lincoln had found politics in the state legislature (1834–1840) as a way to self‐fulfillment, as he practiced law to support his growing family in Springfield. Mary spotted his potential early on and was determined to help her husband pursue a track to Washington, DC—an outcome that she was certain hinged in part on her own ambitions. Both were very energetic in pursuit of their common goal. Mary focused on helping Lincoln meet his aspirations so she could carve out for herself a role not only as the spouse of a politician, but as the president’s wife. Theirs was a durable, if sometimes stormy marriage: one between a pair of politically minded people who found ways to accommodate each other’s moody nature (Epstein, 2008; Emerson, 2007). Third, this chapter explores historians’ assessments of Mary Lincoln’s performance as first lady. Despite the sharp criticisms of her contemporaries and the controversies surrounding her, she managed to combine her genteel southern roots and her frontier marriage so as to achieve a successful performance in the White House; and, despite profound personal challenges, she helped redefine the role of first lady (Randall, 1953; Baker, 1987; Clinton, 2009). Lastly, her postpresidency years are examined. Lincoln’s assassination secured the couple two vastly different legacies. Lincoln was elevated to public sainthood for the first time in his life; and Mary Todd Lincoln was consigned to notoriety as a result of the

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insanity trial arranged by the Lincolns’ oldest son. This final chapter in Mary Todd Lincoln’s life has required historians to evaluate all the tragedies she faced: her perceived abandonment, as a child, by her father in favor of his second wife and a new set of offspring; her husband’s murder; the deaths of three young sons; and the often harsh reception she faced as first lady during the nation’s critical internal crisis and afterward. Exploring her life fully, without casting aside these postpresidential years, provides a more nuanced historical picture of Mary Lincoln and of her qualities as wife, mother, first lady and widow (Baker, 1987; Emerson, 2007; Clinton, 2009; McDermott, 2015). Still, a biography that does justice to the entirety of Mary’s wide‐ranging life remains to be written. Origins: A Southern Belle Who Went West on a Mission Both Mary Todd and her future spouse were born in the border state of Kentucky, but they came from different worlds despite that common geography. As rough‐hewn as the legendary rails he split, Abraham Lincoln was a social waif in polite company—awkward in dress, speech and manners, especially around women. He left his home state as a young boy, when his family moved to Pigeon Creek, Indiana in an effort to “move up” in life. Though Lincoln had little respect for Thomas Lincoln, his father, his mother Nancy and his stepmother Sarah both encouraged the boy to read, and young Abraham, with little schooling, became an assiduous learner (Pessen, 1984: 24–25). Mary Todd’s background was in sharp contrast to that of her future husband. Her life was shaped within the elite circles of Kentucky’s largest town, Lexington, dubbed the “Athens of the West,” and she enjoyed corresponding social and intellectual advantages. Born in 1818, she was the fourth of six surviving children of Robert S. and Eliza

Parker Todd; the other five were Elizabeth, Frances, Mary, Ann, and George R. C. As was customary among socially prominent southern families of the time, enslaved African Americans primarily reared Mary and her siblings. Her father was a well‐ off  bank president, lawyer legislator, and merchant. He was also a Whig politician; and in that capacity he supported Henry Clay, a neighbor who was one of the early figures in Mary’s life. Just as the event of his mother’s death when he was nine years old disrupted Abraham Lincoln’s security as a child, Mary suffered a similar experience: her mother passed away when she was only six. But Abraham Lincoln’s father remarried a woman whom the boy came to treasure as his “angel” stepmother. Mary Todd, on the other hand, never got along with her father’s new wife; in fact all six of the Todd children from the first marriage came to dislike their stepmother (Baker, 1987: 29). From her early years, Mary Todd became, in a sense, an outsider in her own family. The cause is not difficult to identify. Her father’s second marriage, to Elizabeth Humphreys, produced eight children: three half‐brothers— Samuel, David and Alexander—and five half‐sisters—Margaret, Martha, Emilie, Elodie, and Katherine Todd. Apart from Mary Todd’s elite southern background (Dolley Madison’s first husband was also a Todd), her most defining characteristic as she grew up was that she was an individual on the move, a trait her future husband shared (Winkle, 2011: 6). In Mary’s early years, her father traveled annually to  New Orleans without his children. Though she herself was more confined geographically, young Mary made efforts to  expand her personal and intellectual boundaries through her atypical education, which reflected the high value that the Todd family placed on learning. The Todds had helped to found Transylvania University, the first university west of the Alleghenies, and Mary’s father was educated there.



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His  appreciation of education was transmitted to his daughter. At the age of nine she embarked on twelve years of schooling in Lexington, at the Shelby Female Academy; and then she entered Madame Mentelle’s boarding school, where she became fluent in French, excelled in acting, and became a mimic (Baker, 1987: 37–45; McDermott, 2015: 23–28). Despite her privileged upbringing and superior formal education, Mary Todd nonetheless remained an outsider within her own family, even after she went to Springfield, Illinois, where her oldest sister had moved when she married into a prominent political family (Pederson, 2014). The independent‐minded Mary Todd would ignore her relatives’ advice about suitable husbands. Instead she focused on marrying a partner she believed capable of winning the nation’s highest office. It would be in Springfield that she found young Abraham Lincoln. A self‐taught lawyer who ran for political office earlier than any other future lawyer president, he, like Mary, was a peripatetic soul, always on the move geographically, politically, and socially. He never traveled outside the United States but demonstrated an early interest in expanding his personal borders by twice traveling down the Mississippi River on a flat boat to New Orleans, America’s first “international” city (Campanella, 2010: 342). Lincoln’s autodidactic nature is also reflected in his inventiveness in the field of river transport, which resulted in an 1849 patent—the only one held by a United States president. Understanding the benefit of means of transport to a young nation that, like him, was “on the move,” Lincoln became an enthusiastic supporter of canals and, later, of railroads designed to facilitate the transportation of people and products. As a “westerner,” his values were reflected in Clay’s American plan to use the federal government in order to develop national infrastructure (Striner, 2010: 36–38; Winkle, 2011: 241, 63). Henry Clay, Mary’s

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family friend from Lexington, became Abraham’s living political hero. Mary Todd Lincoln’s penchant for travel  manifested itself mostly during her Washington years and during her widowhood, when she made two extended European trips (1868–1871 and 1876– 1880). Her love of travel perhaps surpassed Lincoln’s (Temple, 2012: 140–185; McDermott, 2015: 141–151) As a couple, the two planned trips to the West Coast, and  even to the Middle East after their Washington years. The Lincoln Marriage: Mutual Political Ambition Mary Todd’s cousin, John Todd Stewart, had served with Abraham Lincoln during the Black Hawk War of 1832 and had encouraged him to become a lawyer. Stewart, one year older than Lincoln, had returned from the Indian War to serve his first term in the Illinois state legislature. As  Lincoln’s first tangible role model of a lawyer politician, Stewart inspired his friend to run for office. Lincoln’s first attempt at electoral office ended, however, in defeat, which was attributed to his lack of campaigning (he was then busy in the state militia). Undeterred, Lincoln bided his time until 1834, when he won. During that interval he started a law practice with Stewart as his partner; Stewart was also his roommate, and this well‐connected friend helped him gain entrée into Springfield’s elite society (Winkle, 2011: 24–26). As noted above, Elizabeth Todd Edwards, Mary’s oldest sister, had relocated with her husband to Springfield, Illinois in 1832. Elizabeth’s father‐in‐law, Ninian Edwards, had been both the first governor of Illinois Territory and the third governor of the state; her husband, Ninian W., was attorney general of Illinois in the mid‐1830s. The Todds and the Edwards were Whigs and were part of an elitist social circle in

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Springfield, which became the state’s capital in 1839. That year, Robert Todd’s second eldest daughter, Frances, who had been boarding at Elizabeth’s home in Springfield, left in order to marry a young physician named William Wallace and Mary took her place, occupying the room in Elizabeth’s house that previously housed Frances. On a visit two years earlier, Mary Todd had tested the social waters in Springfield and was impressed by both the social scene and the political world that blossomed there. Not leaving her future to fate, Mary Todd planned a strategy by which she would wage her campaign on two fronts. Not only did she have to invade and conquer an elite social structure in a town still considered to lie in the backwaters of the West, but she also had to capture a spouse with the potential to assure that she attained her lofty goal of reaching the nation’s capital. Even at the age of thirteen, Mary asserted that eventually she would become a first lady (Clinton, 2009: 17); she “interrupted Henry Clay’s dinner to assure him … that someday she, too, would live in Washington” (Baker, 1996: 176; Baker, 1987: 60). At twenty, she came well armed for her campaign. If  she was not strikingly beautiful, she embodied three social virtues—well bred, well fed, well read—that boosted the chances of any lively southern belle from Springfield to become well wed too. Robert Todd contributed to his daughter’s matrimonial prospects and arsenal by providing an annual allowance that enabled her to dress for the part. Behind that exterior of a conventional, proper, and charming belle, however, the quick‐witted Mary Todd was serious about finding a suitable spouse whose goals matched her own aspirations and who would thus allow her to enter the political world as a first lady (McDermott, 2015: 37–40). Mary was, as Stacy Pratt McDermott argues, “engaged and energized” by politics, like other women in her circle (2015: 45). Like Lincoln, she remained a Henry Clay Whig.

Her future mate came in the gangly and unsophisticated form of Abraham Lincoln, the ultimate outsider among American presidents (Pederson, 2014). With him she  made an unconventional choice, just as she had in acquiring a formal education. She apparently heeded the wisdom of “clothes don’t make the man” as she assessed Lincoln. Despite his looks and his frontier manners, she recognized in Lincoln a kindred spirit, another bright outsider with extreme political ambitions that rivaled hers. When assessing the relationship that bound Abraham Lincoln and Mary Todd as political partners no less than as husband and wife, historians have overlooked, or perhaps even failed to recognize, that their “outsiderness” was, in reality, a deeply shared psychological marginality (e.g., Burlingame, 1994). Moreover, both Mary and Abraham wrestled with moodiness (Emerson, 2007; Shenk, 2006). Psychological marginality is difficult to define. In essence, it is an individual’s inner sense of not belonging, of being an outsider. Most outsiders resolve their condition in one of three ways. Some overconform to the social group with which they identify. Others experience perpetual frustration that ends in violence (Pederson, 2008: 55–65). Still others adapt successfully, as Mary and Abraham did, resolving their marginality by creative means, in a positive manner, as they “find themselves” (Pederson, 2012). Of course, in fundamental ways, Mary was entering a restrictive man’s world in which she was a virtual outcast, both by custom and law. Lincoln may have been a marginal figure along three dimensions—physical, social, and intellectual—but he transformed these potential liabilities into positives in his life. His unusual height (he was America’s tallest president ever), his gaunt body, and his less than symmetrical facial features were remarked upon throughout his entire life. Yet he used his intellect and keen sense of humor to deflect attention from those traits, much



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like comedians use their inherent feelings of being outsiders to make audiences laugh with them, not at them. This technique worked for Lincoln in the militia, in the courtroom, and in politics. Rejecting his father’s hardscrabble farming life and exploring a variety of jobs, Lincoln first “found himself” while serving in the Illinois militia, when the men he served with elected him as captain of their company. It was his first taste of peer approval—an experience he basked in and never forgot. This was also when he met Mary’s cousin, the man who inspired his electoral bid for the legislature. Despite that first loss, his success two years later helped him determine that he would seek a life in politics, as he found it engaging and fulfilling. It opened a sphere of opportunity in which he could apply his mind to public policy issues he cared about, like economic development and, eventually, the problem of slavery in the modern world. For the rest of his life he was either seeking a public office or holding one (Hofstadter, 1948: 123; Pederson, 2012: 43). His ambition certainly drew the more socially secure Mary to him, and so, too, did his native intellect and love of learning, attributes that allowed him to compensate for his less than a year of formal education. To her credit, Mary Todd saw through and rejected Stephen Douglas, the popular Illinois Democrat who was Lincoln’s political rival, as well as other suitors attracted to the newest southern belle in Springfield. Instead, she and Lincoln together loved poetry, the stage, newspapers, and books; she was his “intellectual equal” (Clinton, 2012: 357). Lincoln, of course, developed himself into one of the two greatest mid‐nineteenth century minds in American politics; the other was John C. Calhoun. Unlike Calhoun’s, however, Lincoln’s superior analytical abilities led him to support a rational plan to “contain” slavery, until secession finally moved him to terminate it through a creative use of the president’s war powers.

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But, when Mary with her own grand ambitions came into his life—in December 1839, during the first legislative session in the new state capital of Illinois—all this was still far in the future. Lincoln was by then established as a lawyer in her first cousin’s law firm and was rapidly ascending the Whig leadership ladder in the state legislature. Their backgrounds and outward appearances made Mary Todd and Abraham Lincoln an unlikely match. But they were alike at a fundamental level: both were extraordinarily ambitious outsiders. As suggested earlier, Mary’s marginality was rooted in her gender and in her unusually good education; later on her emotional extremes would also marginalize her. Meanwhile, Mary’s elitist family background imbued her with an unquestioned sense of her social position that would more than compensate for Lincoln’s social deficit. She continued to imagine herself as a first lady (Helm, 1928: 1–3; McDermott, 2015: 108). Within a year of meeting, the two had made plans to marry, but by early 1841 those plans were abandoned. Which one of them decided not to go forward with the marriage or whether it was a mutual decision remains unknown (McDermott, 2015: 46). It’s not hard to imagine that Abraham might have gotten cold feet about supporting a southern belle. However, within eighteen months, politics had again drawn the seemingly unlikely pair together despite disapproval from Mary’s elitist relatives in Springfield, who frowned on Lincoln’s lack of social class in comparison to the Todd family. The couple finally wed in late 1842. As  noted above, in this marriage the wife married “down” socially and the husband married “up” into a socially prominent family (Winkle, 2011: 61). It is worth noting that Thomas and Sarah Lincoln never met Mary. Abraham Lincoln had made it to the other side of the tracks, as an ambitious lawyer politician, and he maintained his focus on the goals that he and Mary Todd

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Lincoln had set, namely to rise as high as possible in the political world. For her part, Mary made numerous sacrifices in pursuit of the couple’s ticket out of Springfield. The newlyweds spent their first year of married life as renters in a room at the Globe Tavern. They next moved into a four‐room space they rented until May 1844, when they purchased their first and only home—with generous financial assistance from Robert Todd, after whom they named their first son (Winkle, 2011: 475; Clinton, 2009: 67; Baker, 1987: 102). As the family grew, Mary sold some farmland that her father had given her and combined it with income from Lincoln’s prospering legal career to expand and renovate their home by adding a second story. She redecorated it in the contemporary Victorian style. Faced with fewer resources than she had grown up with, she developed an almost split financial personality, which seesawed between parsimony and spending sprees. It would become an enduring pattern. She planted one foot firmly in her entitled past, while the other was pointed toward her ambitious future. Such expenses did put a strain on their marriage; yet theirs was nonetheless an enduring union that combined their attraction to each other, their shared love for their children, and their ambition to conquer the political world as partners (Baker, 2001: 36–55). Even before the Lincolns expanded, renovated and redecorated their home, Mary had cultivated it as a social venue where Lincoln’s political friends often gathered for parties. As Ruth Randall noted, “[t]he Lincolns had fun when they entertained” (Randall, 1953: 141). Mary’s background contributed to her success as a hostess and she skillfully used these social occasions to  build advantageous alliances with her husband’s friends. Despite Mary’s social adeptness, her strict loyalty to her husband and her own ambition prompted her to sever friendships with those who came to disagree with him. Lincoln, however, had

the knack of getting along with nearly everyone (McDermott, 2015: 74; Winkle, 2011: 73). He did not hold grudges. Key elements to the relationship that Mary Todd and Abraham Lincoln sustained were their mutual loyalty and ability to adapt to each other’s shortcomings, especially to  the mood swings that seemed to have plagued them both. Lincoln worked through his own depressions by relying on good friends and on the use of humor, and he seemed tolerant of Mary’s moody bouts (Ostendorf and Olesky, 1995: 47), most likely because he could empathize with her. He encouraged her also to have her friends around, especially when personal tragedies struck (Clinton, 2009: 243). One of the most striking aspects of evaluations of the Lincolns’ marriage is how many professional and amateur historians, while praising Abraham, have found Mary to be the difficult partner in the relationship. Typical of this attitude would be best‐selling author Dale Carnegie (1932). In his own biography of the “great emancipator,” as Steven Watts (2013) shows, Carnegie clearly identified with Abraham Lincoln in background and social status, and he also projected upon the Lincolns the troubles he  had in his own first marriage, finding Mary to be the source of marital discord. In  contrast, recent biographies of the first lady, especially those by female historians, have been more sympathetic, rejecting the tendency of earlier writers who “have vilified Mary Lincoln as a domineering, mentally disturbed shrew” (McDermott, 2015: 4). These more recent biographies include the ones by Ruth Painter Randall (1953), Jean H. Baker (1987), and Catherine Clinton (2009). Baker’s biography, for instance, casts a new light on Mary by placing her in the context of her era and of the tragedies she faced and thus by making her grief, moods, and successes understandable. However, Baker did not have access to Mary’s letters related to her insanity trial, which provide both a wider context and



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greater detail on the struggles she faced (Schwartz, 2003; Emerson, 2007). Whatever its issues, the Lincoln marriage worked. Both partners knew what they enjoyed most in life—each other, their offspring, and politics. They reinforced each other’s self‐esteem. It was a companionate marriage, structured so as to allow each spouse to seek fulfillment in the political arena. Mary, as we know, had great ambitions for her husband (McDermott, 2015: 5). Abraham thrived in this relationship and was grateful for it. After his single term in Congress (1847– 1849), Lincoln returned to Springfield to rebuild his legal career. He entered practice with his third and final law partner, William Herndon (1818–1891). Their more solid financial footing gave Lincoln the time to think about the ever‐threatening issue of slavery. He quickly recognized Stephen A. Douglas’s Kansas‐Nebraska Act of 1854 as a ploy that undermined the Missouri Compromise of 1820. The upstart and obscure Lincoln, who had joined the so‐ called Republican Party in 1856, challenged Douglas to a series of debates over Douglas’s “popular sovereignty” solution to slavery. Two years later Lincoln was the Republican challenger as Douglas sought reelection to the US Senate. Lincoln lost the election, but his command of the issues and moderate “containment” policy turned him into a “dark horse” candidate in the 1860 presidential election. Throughout the presidential campaign Mary knew her husband and children were on public display, so she drew on her expertise as a hostess and went out of her way to socialize with newspapermen, politicians, and influential visitors in their Springfield home (Clinton, 2009: 111–112). Mary was determined to show the nation that she had not married a backwoods hick. It was a close election, and it occurred at an extremely divisive time; in a four‐way race, Lincoln won by just a 39 percent plurality (Burlingame, 2009: 680; Baker, 1987: 161–162). Mary,

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now first lady, would move the position in a more independent direction, as she and her three surviving sons (their second son, Edward, had died earlier of tuberculosis) joined Abraham in Washington. Mary as First Lady: Changing the Role The Lincolns occupied the president’s house at a time when Old World ambassadors to the United States justifiably considered Washington, DC, as a hardship post due to its muggy summer weather and its lack of sophistication by comparison with European seats of government—never mind the turmoil already erupting between the North and South. When Mary went to Washington, she arrived in a city that, despite its pretensions as the New World’s first planned city (Baker, 1987: 139) suffered in comparison to more cosmopolitan and cultural centers like New York City, Philadelphia, Boston, and New Orleans. Although they would face fiery criticism, the Lincolns seemed to have been perfectly suited to the task of preserving the nation’s great experiment in democracy during the American Civil War, when democracy was severely challenged. They came to the capital equipped with an ambitious plan to demonstrate that a democratic government could last even through the wave of state secessions that greeted Lincoln’s first inauguration and that a first lady could contribute to making the Executive Mansion an appropriately unifying symbol. Moreover, Mary succeeded in this even as Lincoln was insisting on completing the yet unfinished Capitol at the very same time (Winkle, 2011: 82). Taking the extreme demands of the war effort into account, political scientists have labeled him as the nation’s most extraconstitutional president up to his era (Pederson, 2008: 143). Mary, too, pushed boundaries more than other presidents’ wives as she carved out an expanded role for the first lady.

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Their  joint accomplishments, however, came at a high price. No role that young Mary Todd had played as an actress in school could compare with adult Mary Lincoln’s real‐life role as first lady, although it was a position she had dreamed of and, in the parlance of the day, had “set her cap” for (Baker, 1987: 44, 60). Even before her arrival, she hosted a series of public receptions in the larger northern cities along the route of her twelve‐day train journey from Springfield to Washington, DC (Winkle, 2011: 77), thus making a prolonged national début. It was an auspicious beginning. Her entrance into the nation’s capital itself was far less grand; but so was Washington. Only one paved street ran through the twelfth largest city in the United States when Mary arrived—Pennsylvania Avenue, which connected the Executive Mansion with the unfinished Capitol. The first lady set about transforming the best known address in America into a residence befitting a nation’s chief executive. This would be the  theater in which they, as lovers of the stage, were to perform their public roles; it would also be a symbol of the democracy that Lincoln would define for the republic— still young and threatened as it was by an escalating internal conflict, as well as by reactions from the rest of the world (McDermott, 2015: 108). Appearance was everything for Mary Lincoln; so, after settling into the Executive Mansion, she began to impose her imprint. She saw to it that the building received a fresh coat of white paint (Clinton, 2009: 145). Lincoln was so impressed that he began referring to “the White House” (Winkle, 2011: 83), though this term was not commonly used until Theodore Roosevelt’s presidency. Drawing on her background, the first lady pictured something grander and more refined than the current mansion. Thus, just as she did her best to transform the unsophisticated Abraham Lincoln so as to make him fit

into  elite society, Mary Lincoln set about refurbishing the interior rooms of the building along with appropriately outfitting herself for her role as the first lady of the nation. Purchases for the Executive Mansion during her watch included a carriage, furniture, a grand piano, books, glassware, sets of china, curtains, wallpaper, carpets, and a chandelier (McDermott, 2015: 96–97). She viewed the House’s condition as a  national disgrace; the budget‐minded Buchanan had believed that was his duty to husband people’s money and spent little (see Chapter  12 in this volume). Mary, on the other hand, overspent the congressional appropriation for the White House, which caused concern for her and attracted critics then and later (McDermott, 2015: 97). Yet, as first lady, she insisted on claiming a role for herself on the national political stage in areas that would enhance the presidency, and a fitting presidential home was part of that picture (Baker, 1987: 195). Like other first ladies after her, Mary Lincoln saw herself as a national trendsetter in fashion as well (McCreary, 2012: 186–218). Her shopping took her well outside the capital: she made eleven trips to New York City alone as well as going to Boston and Philadelphia, and some of these trips lasted up to four months. Early in his administration Lincoln had to put in his place William H. Seward, the ambitious rival whom he appointed to be his secretary of state, by reminding him face to face that a president must run his administration (Stahr, 2012: 272–273). As she developed her role as White House hostess, the first lady followed suit, insisting to Seward that the president, not the secretary of state, host the administration’s first dinner, which traditionally was for the diplomatic corps. The state dining room of the Executive Mansion was the setting for this formal affair (Baker, 1987: 199; Randall: 1953: 212). Mary was fluent in French and was determined that Abraham would preside at this important political and social event, with her at his side.



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Yet instead of perpetuating these often staid state dinners, she planned and directed a series of huge receptions that began on February 5, 1862. She reinstituted the presidential levées, which had been in vogue before President Thomas Jefferson abandoned that form of entertainment. Her levées were adapted from European court functions but were open to nearly everyone on alternating Tuesday evenings, from 8:30 p.m. until 11:00 p.m. She also instituted her own weekly Saturday “matinées” from 1:00 p.m. to 3:00 p.m. These were open to all and appealed to her husband’s “populist” inclinations (Baker, 1987: 205; Winkle, 2011: 95–96). Moreover, she also introduced the practice of inviting artists and performers to entertain on special occasions at the Executive Mansion, among them her husband’s favorite singers and actors (Clinton, 2009: 164). By January 1862 Mary Lincoln had become “the busiest first lady in history,” and some of the young male secretaries on Lincoln’s staff began to feel undermined and threatened by her influence. After the tragic death of their third‐born son Willie—the couple’s favorite—in early 1862, Mary Lincoln’s activism subsided; but eventually it reemerged, at a more restrained and private level. In her mourning, she increasingly identified with the soldiers wounded in the brutal Civil War and with their families; and she embarked on visits to the wounded in local “hospitals.” She did not seek publicity for her efforts, keeping them low key and personal; she consoled the injured men, took time to read to them, and helped write letters home for them. She raised funds, too, for the hospitals that struggled to care for the large volume of wounded soldiers. Moved by a similar concern, which ran against her upbringing, she took increasing interest in helping freedmen and assisted a formerly enslaved woman—her seamstress and personal friend, Elizabeth Keckley—to raise funds to aid them (Winkle, 2011: 109–110; Clinton,

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2012: 199; McDermott, 2015: 107–108). This aspect of her philanthropy was little known; the northern press often defined her by her southern origins and by family ties to those who fought for the Confederacy (McDermott, 2015: 109–112). Indeed, critics often label her as selfish, vain, and uncaring, but these simplistic assessments overlook her work for those who suffered in the war. The first lady’s personal taste and warmth were also reflected in her use of the flowers from the greenhouse that James Buchanan, in one of his few concessions to Harriet Lane’s wishes for improvements, had added to the west end of the Executive Mansion. In addition to creating floral arrangements for formal social functions, she made bouquets to present to visitors and carried flowers to the local military hospitals. Like Harriet Lane, she too would be called a “first lady.” In spite of the harsh criticisms she often faced, Mary Lincoln performed her duties with spirit. She would represent her husband in reviewing troops and inspecting ships. These activities were not restricted to Washington, DC. For example, she toasted the Russian czar when a Russian frigate was docked in New York (Clinton, 2009: 205). The president supported the first lady’s undertaking these expanded ceremonial duties on his behalf, and the two of them stayed in contact even when he was away. In his 1864 reelection campaign, Mary remained active and encouraged state leaders to turn out republican voters (Baker, 1996: 188). She reached out to politicians in the Congress whom she identified as potentially helpful to herself and to the president, such as Charles Sumner, the influential radical republican senator of Massachusetts; and they became friends. Mary’s enhanced roles as White House designer, ceremonial hostess, and political activist underline how she redefined the position of first lady for her successors. Even more remarkably, she did this in the face of

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losing a child in the mansion and of surmounting her own ever‐challenging moods. Through it all, her husband’s health and safety were of paramount concern to Mary. She insisted they take afternoon carriage rides that they both enjoyed (Winkle, 2011: 105), as she believed that these outings helped him deal with his stress. Another favorite diversion was going to the theater, and of course it was their jaunt to see Our American Cousin at Ford’s Theatre on April 14, 1865, that led to his murder. This was the second major tragedy she faced while living in the Executive Mansion, where as noted above, her beloved Willie had died earlier from typhoid fever. In a cruel irony, assassinations enhance presidents’ reputations in historical rankings by scholars as well as in public opinion surveys; and they positively affect their widows’ reputations as well. Lincoln’s assassination at the hands of John Wilkes Booth was the nation’s first, and the first lady was initially accorded “her place alongside the martyred national hero” (Holzer, 2012: 331). Yet, in the aftermath of losing her husband and her position as first lady, Mary Lincoln receded from the limelight she had once sought, except for the intermittent public spotlight that highlighted her personal health struggles. No longer first lady, she was soon relegated to the position of a permanent outcast. Witnessing her husband’s assassination traumatized Mary Lincoln, just as the loss of her beloved Willie had. Now her entwined personal and political loss transformed her in a way that resulted in her eventual loss of the public support she had garnered briefly after the assassination. Left to herself, she would only occasionally demonstrate the spunk she had shown before and during the first part of her tenure in the Executive Mansion. Tragically deprived of spouse, sons, and social role, Mary was devastated. Mary did not attend any funeral, either at the White House or in Springfield, and stayed in the White House a full five weeks.

When she finally left the nation’s capital, she was in full mourning dress, her post as first lady transformed into one of mourner in chief. Refusing to return to Springfield, which would surround her with memories of Willie’s life, as well as being the site where older son Eddie had died, she moved to Chicago. While in the Windy City, she insisted that Lincoln be buried with Willie, back in Springfield’s Oak Ridge Cemetery, contrary to the wishes of Springfield’s elite. Mary won that battle (McDermott, 2015: 127–128). It was an era that dictated two and a half years of mourning, but Mary assumed the role of dutiful, mourning widow for the rest of her life (Winkle, 2011: 118), much as Queen Victoria mourned her beloved Albert. Jennifer Bach (2004: 26) argues that Mary carried her mourning to such an extreme because she believed “she suffered more severely than the numerous other widows and orphans of the Civil War”—an outlook that distanced her from fellow bereaved Americans and also echoed her inconsolable reaction to Willie’s death in the White House. At the same time, this formerly social southern belle was slipping away from others and becoming a recluse. Her two surviving sons, Robert and Tad, provided her with some solace in her widowhood; yet any peace of mind that Mary could experience at  that point was shattered by William H. Herndon, Abraham Lincoln’s last law partner in Springfield. In November 1866 Herndon began offering lectures that would assert—among other things—that Lincoln’s first and only true love was Ann Rutledge (Herndon, 1889; Wilson, 2001; Baker, 1987: 267–269) and that the Lincolns’ marriage was a “domestic hell.” That Herndon was an alcoholic was not enough to mitigate the damage that his work did to Mary. Through her own behavior, too, Mary Lincoln was thrust once again under the public’s magnifying glass. Abraham had not left a will. In great debt when she left the



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White House, she decided to sell the extensive wardrobe she had amassed while first lady. Leaving Chicago with several trunks of clothes, she traveled to New York City in the fall of 1867. Her enterprise to convert her clothes into cash quickly turned into a public relations fiasco when newspapers learned about it and published stories that made it appear as if the former first lady had become a common peddler. Her eldest son, Robert, who was trying to establish his law practice in Chicago, was furious with his mother for generating sensational news stories that cast a negative light on the Lincoln name (McDermott, 2015: 137–139). In 1868 Elizabeth Keckley—Mary’s close friend, who had served as her seamstress when Mary was first lady—dictated her memoirs to a ghostwriter. These covered Keckley’s years in the Executive Mansion and allowed for the publication of letters written to her by Mary (then first lady) without Mary’s consent. The disclosures reignited the clothes scandal and Mary broke off their friendship (Keckley, 1989). The next fall, Mary and Tad, her last‐ born son, escaped from these difficulties on an extended trip to Western Europe that lasted for two and a half years; they spent most of that time in Germany. The former first lady also had seven enjoyable weeks in London and Paris. In 1866 the appreciative French had presented the bilingual former first lady with a medallion in honor of her assassinated spouse, leaving it with the American minister in Paris (Holzer, 2011). Now visiting that city, Mary could express her appreciation to French citizens for this tribute, and in their own language (Randall, 1953: 327–328). She and Tad also visited Ayrshire, Scotland, the birthplace of Robert Burns, the celebrated poet whom the Lincolns loved. She returned to the United States in May 1871, but soon thereafter again faced personal tragedy when Tad, only eighteen, died of pneumonia two months later. He was interred at Oak Ridge Cemetery, with his father and two brothers.

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Once more, Mary did not attend the burial. In the next year she was again subjected to unwelcome public attention after the ghostwritten publication of Lincoln’s biography by Ward Hill Lamon, a lawyer friend of the president’s who had acted as his bodyguard in the nation’s capital. Lamon rehashed Herndon’s theory of the Ann Rutledge romance and also indicted Mary as a bad wife (Lamon, 1872). Seeking escape in the months that followed, Mary visited numerous health resorts in Wisconsin, Florida, and Canada. Three years later, in the spring of 1875, Mary’s oldest and only surviving son Robert, imbued with “Victorian masculine principles of duty and honor” (Emerson, 2007: 21), inflicted the ultimate insult on her: he initiated proceedings to have his mother declared legally insane and institutionalized. It was during the three‐hour insanity hearing that she learned he had employed Pinkerton detectives to watch her. Robert Lincoln testified that, since the assassination of his father, his mother had been of “unsound mind.” Her behavior had become too erratic for him. It took a jury only ten minutes to return a verdict of insane, and Mary was committed to a mental institution outside of Chicago. Robert, Mary’s only surviving heir, gained control of her financial affairs (Neely, Jr. and McMurty, 1986; Emerson, 2007; Clinton, 2009: 303, 307–308). While Mary was institutionalized, her characteristic spunk resurfaced. Denying that she was insane, she retained lawyer activists Myra and James Bradwell (Baker, 1987: 338–341). Myra Bradwell (1831– 1894) had studied law with Abraham Lincoln and founded the leading midwestern legal newspaper, Chicago Legal News (Emerson, 2007: 77–87). The state’s supreme court had denied her admission to the Illinois bar because she was a woman, and the US Supreme Court upheld the Illinois decision by an 8‐to‐1 vote (Bradwell

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v. State of Illinois, 1873). That did not stop the Bradwells from helping Mary; and they threatened to expose the sanatorium’s methods, which Robert feared would once again propel his mother’s situation before the public (Clinton, 2009: 311–315). This proved an effective strategy: in less than four months Mary was free again and living in Springfield with her older sister Elizabeth Edwards, just as she had nearly four decades before, when she began her ascension to Washington. In less than a year she had wrested control of her finances from Robert, thus ending the most publicly humiliating episode of her widowhood. She had outwitted her socially conventional lawyer son and his friends (Winkle, 2011: 122). In September 1876 Mary returned to France and stayed there for nearly four years, exiling herself from the nation that had largely turned its back on her, just as her only living son had done. She spent time in Pau, Paris, Vichy, Avignon, and Marseilles (Clinton, 2009: 317–323). Her physical health in decline, she returned to Springfield by the summer of 1880. Once again she took refuge in the home of her eldest sister, this time as a near recluse. Despite Mary’s social withdrawal in Springfield, courage had not totally deserted her. She asked Congress to increase her pension. In what may have been Mary’s final political triumph, Congress not only increased her pension but also made the increase retroactive (Baker, 1987: 368). When she died in poor health at the age sixty‐three, Mary was finally a relatively wealthy widow. Conclusions Mary Todd was a daring southern belle, just as her socially inferior spouse was an equally spunky dark horse politician on the make. Both experienced recurrent bouts of depression in their lives—or even bipolar disorder; but they became supportive of each other,

in a marriage that also bound them as political partners (Emerson, 2007). Mary Lincoln’s tragic loss of all her four sons (three by death, one through alienation), compounded by the experience of having her spouse mortally wounded as he sat by her side, suggests that she deserves more empathy than she has received. Moreover, Mary Lincoln was a pioneer among first ladies. She infused into her position important elements that later first ladies were to model. For instance, Nellie Taft and Ellen Wilson attempted, like her, to help the underprivileged, and Florence Harding emulated Mary’s work on behalf of soldiers. Mary’s interest in culture and in refurbishing the White House was echoed later on by Edith Roosevelt and Jackie Kennedy. Her early efforts to give the first lady a meaningful role in her spouse’s presidency is clearly a forerunner of the “platform” that a modern first lady adopts during her husband’s Oval Office tenure. Mary Lincoln was never a passive ornament decorating her husband’s arm; she actively reached out to others in order to make him more visible. From their early relationship, Mary worked to help groom Abraham for success. She may have been a southern belle, but she was not fettered by tradition when it came to being a first lady. Her approach to entertaining by opening presidential levées for the public to view the first couple was consistent with her spouse’s democratic approach to the presidency. They seemed to have learned from each other (Randall, 1953: 324). Abraham and Mary Lincoln showed their humanity toward people of all races both in the manner in which they interacted personally with African Americans and in their compassionate dealings with the wounded and their families during America’s bloodiest conflict. They not only understood the principle of moral equality, they practiced it (Anthony, 1990: 176, 187; Keckley, 1989; Randall, 1953: 318–328). And, until it ended abruptly, Mary’s relationship with Elizabeth Keckley surpassed,



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in its intimacy, any relationship that Abraham entertained with any African American. Moreover, in her widowhood, Mary made it a point to give Frederick Douglass one of Abraham’s favorite walking sticks (Randall, 1953: 327). Lincoln was willing to let history judge him, and today he remains in the pantheon of great American leaders. Mary Todd Lincoln has been less loved by historians, but, like her husband, she was driven by an ambition that knew “no rest.” She devised a plan to gain entry into a male‐dominated political world by enhancing the prestige of the Executive Mansion, which her husband occupied as a democratic symbol. She did not possess Lincoln’s extraordinary understanding of human nature, but she was far ahead of most in spotting his political potential and in enhancing the office of the presidency through their home in the nation’s capital. Her strength is evident in her work of “lobbying” for her causes and interests during her tenure as first lady, in her successful attempt to free herself from unwanted commitment to an asylum, and in her ability to get a pension adjustment from Congress. Mary Todd Lincoln may have suffered from personal difficulties, but she consistently transcended them. Just as scholars have difficulty in putting an adequate label on Lincoln’s seemingly unique leadership style with its blend of conservative, liberal, and autocratic elements, many authors still are challenged by Mary Todd Lincoln’s behavior (e.g., Burlingame, 1994). Yet it is evident that she parlayed seemingly contradictory characteristics in order to accumulate a record as a mostly successful first lady during the Civil War, stretching the boundaries of that position while she fulfilled her roles of loyal spouse and devoted mother. Her most recent historians, like McDermott (2015), Clinton (2009), and Baker (1987), have provided more balanced assessments. An updated comprehensive biography remains overdue, however.

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It is also striking that she, following her husband’s wide renown, has been increasingly accorded international recognition (Tripathy et al., 2010; Pederson, 2009; Holzer, 2011: 54; Parino, 2013; Doyle, 2015). More than a century after her death, those who use a philatelic index find that her image increasingly appears on postage stamps issued by other countries in Africa, Asia, and Latin America (Pederson, 2009). The first Abraham and Mary Lincoln stamps issued outside of the United States appeared in Latin America, the home of the only cities named in his honor outside of the United States. Those stamps, issued in 1959, 1963 and 1964, are from Honduras, St. Vincent, Mustique, and Grenadines. More recently Mary’s visage has appeared on its own. Gambia issued a portrait of her as first lady in 2009, even as Palau issued a souvenir sheet with her still as a shadow at the side of the president. It is certain that Mary, who took two extended trips abroad and would have taken more if Abraham had lived—her husband never had the chance to travel out of the country—continues to leave an indelible stamp on both scholarship and the world at large. As this chapter has suggested, there remain many paths to pursue in order to better understand this complex and pioneering woman.

References Anthony, C. S. 1990. First Ladies: The Saga of the Presidents’ Wives and Their Power, 1789–1961. New York: William Morrow. Bach, J. 2004. “Acts of Remembrance: Mary Todd Lincoln and Her Husband’s Memory.” Journal of the Abraham Lincoln Association 25 (2): 25–49. Baker, J. H. 1987. Mary Todd Lincoln: A Biography. New York: W. W. Norton. Baker, J. H. 2001. “Mary and Abraham: A  Marriage.” In The Lincoln Enigma: The Changing Faces of an American Icon, edited by G. Boritt, 36–55. New York: Oxford University Press.

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Baker, J. H. 1996. “Mary (Ann) Todd Lincoln.” In American First Ladies: Their Lives and Legacy, edited by L. Gould, 174–190. New York: Garland. Bradwell v. State of Illinois, 83 US 130 (1873). Burlingame, M. 1994. The Inner World of Abraham Lincoln. Urbana: University of Illinois Press. Burlingame, M. 2009. Abraham Lincoln: A Life. Baltimore, MD: Johns Hopkins University Press. Campanella, R. 2010. Lincoln in New Orleans. Lafayette: University of Louisiana at Lafayette Press. Carnegie, D. 1932. Lincoln the Unknown. Garden City, NY: Dale Carnegie and Associates. Clinton, C. 2009. Mrs. Lincoln: A Life. New York: HarperCollins. Clinton, C. 2012. “Epilogue. The Compelling Mrs. Lincoln.” In The Mary Lincoln Enigma: Historians on America’s Most Controversial First Lady, edited by F. Williams and M.  Burkhimer, 349–364. Carbondale: Southern Illinois University Press. Doyle, D. 2015. The Cause of All Nations: An International History of the American Civil War. New York: Basic Books. Emerson, J. 2007. The Madness of Mary Lincoln. Carbondale: Southern Illinois University Press. Epstein, D. 2008. The Lincolns: Portrait of a Marriage. New York: Ballantine Books. Helm, K. 1928. Mary, Wife of Lincoln. New York: Harper. Herndon, W. H. 1889. Herndon’s Lincoln: The True Story of a Great Life, 3 vols. Chicago: Belford, Clarke. Hofstadter, R. 1948. The American Political Tradition and the Men Who Made It. New York: Alfred Knopf. Holzer, H. 2011. “An American Hero in Prints Abroad: The European Image of Lincoln.” In The Global Lincoln, edited by R. Carwardine and J. Sexton, 44–75. New York: Oxford University Press. Holzer, H. 2012. “’I Look Too Stern’: Mary Lincoln and Her Image in the Graphic Arts.” In The Mary Lincoln Enigma: Historians on America’s Most Controversial First Lady, edited by F. Williams and M. Burkhimer, 305–348. Carbondale: Southern Illinois University Press. Keckley, E. 1989. Behind the Scenes; Or Thirty Years a Slave, and Four Years in the White House. New York: Oxford University Press.

Keko, D. 2011. “Mary Todd Lincoln’s Addiction.” Examiner.com, July 21. http:// www.examiner.com/ar ticle/mar y‐todd‐ lincoln‐s‐addiction (accessed October 30, 2015). Klemesrud, J. 1982. “The 42 First Ladies: Their Place in History.” New York Times, December 6. Lamon, W. 1872. The Life of Abraham Lincoln: His Birth to His Inauguration as President. Boston: James R. Osgood. McCreary, D. 2012. “Fashion Plate or Trend Setter?” In The Mary Lincoln Enigma: Historians on America’s Most Controversial First Lady, edited by F. Williams and M.  Burkhimer, 186–218. Carbondale: Southern Illinois University Press. McDermott, S. 2015. Mary Lincoln: Southern Girl, Northern Woman. New York: Routledge. Neely, M., Jr., and R. McMurty. 1986. The Insanity File: The Case of Mary Todd Lincoln. Carbondale: Southern Illinois University Press. Ostendorf, L., and W. Olesky, eds. 1995. Lincoln’s Unknown Private Life: An Oral History by His Black Housekeeper Mariah Vance, 1850–1860. Mamaroneck, NY: Hastings House. Parino, K. 2013. Lincoln in the World: The Making of a Statesman and the Dawn of American Power. New York: Crown. Pederson, W. 2008. “Revisiting Democracy’s First Modern Executive: The American Presidency.” Journal of Contemporary Thought 27: 139–152. Pederson, W. 2009. “Crossing Borders to an International Lincoln.” In Lincoln Lessons: Reflections on America’s Greatest Leader, edited by F. Williams and W. Pederson, 122– 129. Carbondale: Southern Illinois University Press. Pederson, W. 2012. “Obama’s Lincoln: Image to Ideology.” In The Obama Presidency: A Preliminary Assessment, edited by R. Watson, J. Covarrubias, T. Lansford, and D. Brattebo, 37–50. Albany: SUNY Press. Pederson, W. 2014. “Abraham Lincoln and Mohandas Gandhi as Outsiders.” Anekaant 2: 21–26. Pessen, E. 1984. The Log Cabin Myth: The Social Backgrounds of the Presidents. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press. Randall, R. P. 1953. Mary Lincoln. Biography of a Marriage. Boston: Little, Brown.



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Schwartz, T. F. 2003. “‘My Stay on Earth Is Growing Very Short’: Mary Todd Lincoln’s Letters to Willis Danforth and Elizabeth Swing.” Journal of Illinois History 6: 125–136. Shenk, J. W. 2006. Lincoln’s Melancholy: How Depression Challenged a President and Fueled His Greatness. New York: Houghton Mifflin Harcourt. Siena College First Ladies Poll. 2014. “Study of the First Ladies of the United States, 2014.” http://webdev.siena.edu/assets/files/news/ Appendix_A_Overall_Sur vey_Results.pdf (accessed October 30, 2015). Stahr, W. 2012. Seward. Lincoln’s Indispensable Man. New York: Simon & Schuster. Striner, R. 2010. Lincoln’s Way. Lanham: Rowman and Littlefield. Temple, W. 2012. “‘I Am So Fond of Sightseeing’: Mary Lincoln’s Travels up to 1865.” In The Mary Lincoln Enigma: Historians on America’s Most Controversial First Lady, edited by F.  Williams and M.  Burkhimer, 140–185. Carbondale: Southern Illinois University Press. Tripathy, J., S. Rath, and W. Pederson. 2010. “Introduction.” In Abraham Lincoln without Borders, edited by J. Tripathy, S. Rath and W.  Pederson, 9–14. Delhi: Pencraft International. Watson, R. 1999. “Ranking the Presidential Spouses.” The Social Science Journal 36 (1): 117–136. Watson, R. 2000. The Presidents’ Wives: Reassessing the Office of First Lady. Boulder, CO: Lynne Rienner. Watts, S. 2013. Self‐Help Messiah: Dale Carnegie and Success in Modern America. New York: Other Press. Williams, F., and M. Burkhimer, eds. 2012. The Mary Lincoln Enigma: Historians on America’s Most Controversial First Lady. Carbondale: Southern Illinois University Press.

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Wilson, D. 2001. “William H. Herndon and Mary Todd Lincoln.” Journal of the Abraham Lincoln Association 22: 1–16. Winkle, K. 2011. Abraham and Mary Lincoln. Carbondale: Southern Illinois University Press.

Further Reading Doughty, B. 2010. “Lincoln’s Legacy in Australia.” In Abraham Lincoln without Borders, edited by J. Tripathy, S. Rath, and W.  Pederson, 167–172. Delhi: Pencraft International. Ellison, B. 2014. The True Mary Todd Lincoln:  A Biography. Jefferson City, NC: McFarland. Pederson, W. 1988. “Patterns in Non‐ Constitutional Change in the South.” In Grassroots Constitutionalism: Shreveport, the South and the Supreme Law of the Land, edited by N. Provizer and W. Pederson, 55–65. Lanham, MD: University Press of America. Pederson, W., and S. Williams. 1981. “The President and the White House Staff.” In Dimensions of the Modern Presidency, edited by E. Kearney, 139–155. Arlington Heights, IL: Forum Press. Pederson, W., and F. Williams. 2001. “America’s Presidential Triumvirate: Quantitative Measures of Character.” In George Washington: Foundations of Presidential Leadership and Character, edited by E. Fishman, W. Pederson and M. Rozell, 143–162. Westport, CT: Praeger. Pederson, W., and F. Williams, 2006. “Lessons from the First Great American Presidents: An  Introduction.” In The Great Presidential Triumvirate at Home and Abroad, edited by W. Pederson and F. Williams, ix–xi. New York: Nova Science.

Chapter Fourteen

Eliza McCardle Johnson and Julia Dent Grant Pamela K. Sanfilippo

Both Eliza Johnson and Julia Grant have received far less attention from the public and from scholars than other first ladies such as Abigail Adams and Mary Lincoln. Neither woman has been the object of study of a scholarly biography; both are usually mentioned anecdotally, in biographies about their husbands, or are more directly—albeit briefly—addressed in books about all the first ladies. Eliza McCardle Johnson Most of what is generally known about Eliza Johnson comes through slight references in biographies of her husband, Andrew Johnson. She did not write her own memoirs and, according to her daughter, family letters were lost or destroyed during the Civil War (Patterson, 1878). In the numerous books about first ladies, she is usually portrayed as a recluse who seldom came downstairs from her private rooms to attend a White House function during her husband’s tenure in the White House (Truman, 1995: 203). Although not footnoted, a fairly thorough biographical sketch of Eliza

is provided by the National First Ladies Library (2014). Carl Sferazza Anthony (1990) presents a more in‐depth analysis of her influence on her husband through their private conversations and her calm demeanor. Anthony (1990) and Nancy Beck Young (1996) rely heavily on William H. Crook’s (1911) memories of the period when he served in the White House, between Lincoln’s administration and that of the first Roosevelt, a work that offers a more personal look at the families that occupied the mansion during those years. It is Eliza Johnson’s successor, Julia Grant, who in her memoirs refutes the claim that Mrs. Johnson was reclusive. Julia’s description of Eliza as “a retiring, kind, gentle, old lady” who was “too much of an invalid to do the honors of the house” but nonetheless “always came into the drawing room after the long state dinners to take coffee and receive the greetings of her husband’s guests” disproves most scholars’ perception (Grant, 1975: 164). Although she was only fifty‐four when she became first lady, Eliza had begun showing the symptoms of tuberculosis a decade earlier. However, she did not

A Companion to First Ladies, First Edition. Edited by Katherine A. S. Sibley. © 2016 John Wiley & Sons, Inc. Published 2016 by John Wiley & Sons, Inc.



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intentionally hide herself from the public’s eye during her husband’s tenure as president. Rather Eliza took an active role in the White House, continuing the responsibilities and activities she had become accustomed to during her years as the wife of a town alderman, mayor, governor, and senator. Eliza’s life revolved around her husband and her family, but in the roles of wife and mother she also assumed responsibilities more traditionally viewed as being in her husband’s purview. Eliza McCardle was born on October 4, 1810 in Greeneville, Tennessee, where her father was a shoemaker and an occasional innkeeper. She received a strong education for her time, at a local school for girls: the Rhea Academy. While it is unclear how long she attended the school, it appears that she had the equivalent of an eighth grade education by the time she left. After her father died, she helped her mother in making cloth and selling quilts to support the family, in addition to learning how to cook (Young, 1996). Eliza was the youngest first lady to marry: she was only sixteen and a half at the time of her marriage to Andrew Johnson on May 17, 1827. The two had met a year earlier, when Johnson, seventeen years of age, arrived in Greeneville to start his own tailor’s business. Legend has it that Eliza, upon seeing him for the first time, turned to her friends and said: “There goes my beau, girls, mark it” (Trefousse, 1989: 27). Exactly how the relationship began is unknown, but during his short time in Greeneville they started seeing each other and, when he moved to nearby Rutledge, he continued the relationship through frequent correspondence. In the spring of 1827 he returned to Greeneville, where a justice of the peace performed the marriage ceremony. During the next seven years Eliza gave birth to four children—two girls and two boys. A fifth child, another son, joined the family in 1852. In addition to having the primary care of the children, Eliza also

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helped to start her husband’s political career. According to one of her daughters, “[s]he was the stepping stone to all the honors and fame my father attained” (National First Ladies Library, 2014: 4). In the early years of his political career Johnson publicly credited his wife with much of his education, not having had the opportunity to attend school as a child. Andrew could read and write, but Eliza used some of her old schoolbooks to aid him in refining his penmanship and encouraged him to join a debate society in town in order to improve his public speaking skills as he began his political career (Young, 1996). As his tailor’s shop grew and prospered, Johnson was elected alderman in 1828, then mayor of Greeneville in 1830. Eliza stayed at home with the children, but prudently managed the family budget, which allowed them to move to a larger home in 1831. When her husband’s political career expanded into state politics, requiring him to move to the capital, in Nashville, she remained in Greeneville. Just as in the early years of their marriage, Eliza maintained an avid interest in political affairs, reading the newspapers and sharing her husband’s views in support of working‐ class families. When her husband was elected US Representative in 1842, Eliza again remained at their Tennessee home. During his frequent and long absences, she handled the family’s finances, bought property, collected rents, and ran her husband’s tailoring business. She encouraged Johnson’s political pursuits, assisting him in many ways, even though she never publicly expressed her own political views. During his ten‐year tenure in Washington she visited the capital only rarely. Their eldest daughter, Martha, however, did go with her father and attended a boarding school in the nation’s capital. While there, Martha made the acquaintance of then First Lady Sarah Polk, most likely because President

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James K. Polk was also from Tennessee and shared the same political views as Johnson. With the family’s increasing prosperity, in 1835 the Johnsons acquired two enslaved African Americans, Dolly and her half‐ brother Sam, both of whom would assist Eliza in the household and in the family businesses. While Johnson believed that slaveholding moved him up on the social ladder, it is not clear how Eliza, who had the primary responsibility over them, felt. Her Methodist faith frowned on human bondage, yet she undoubtedly needed their assistance (Gordon‐Reed, 2011: 38). In 1851 Johnson returned to Greenville, and the family moved again to a larger home. A year later, Eliza gave birth to their last child, and it was at this time that she began showing symptoms of the consumption that would impair her ability to take an active public role in her husband’s career— had she wanted to. Her condition, known as tuberculosis today, was impacted by weather, and sometimes she was confined to her home and bedroom, unable to exert herself without causing breathing difficulties. Eliza’s poor health did not stop Johnson’s political ambition. In 1853 he rose to the governorship of Tennessee, a position he held until 1857. Eliza was once again responsible for managing the family’s affairs, both in the traditional domestic sphere and by collecting rents from investment properties, many of which she had helped her husband to acquire. During those years she experienced happiness when her daughters married and when she visited them after the births of her grandchildren. Her happiness was mixed with concern, however, when her oldest sons began showing signs of alcoholism (Young, 1996). Eliza does not appear to have taken any direct part in her husband’s political campaigns, such as appearing with him at rallies. She did, however, read the newspapers and discuss with him privately the topics of the day. Given her prior willingness to help him finesse his speaking abilities, she may

also have aided him in preparing for debates or rallies when he came home. Johnson’s election as US senator from Tennessee in 1857 took him once again far away from his family, even as the nation moved toward civil war. Eliza did travel to Washington, DC in the fall of 1860 and stayed through the outbreak of the war. Johnson was the only senator from a secessionist state to remain loyal to the Union, like many of his constituents in eastern Tennessee. When Eliza returned to Greeneville she became a target of the confederate army, which had taken possession of the town early in the war. She was forced to move to her daughter Mary’s home briefly, and in April 1862 she and other Union families were ordered by confederate General Kirby Smith to leave Carter County. Due to her poor health, she requested permission to stay, but in September declared herself well enough to leave. Despite health problems, Eliza, like many wives of the period, was either forced or chose to travel frequently during the war. She became a war refugee, moving from place to place in Murfreesboro in order to obtain shelter and food before she found safety in Nashville in October 1862. Accustomed to being a single parent, Eliza took the moves and family responsibilities in stride. For a while she lived with her daughter Mary, in order to help care for her grandchildren while Mary’s husband served in the Union army, and she aided her son Robert when his alcoholism threatened his position as colonel. In early 1863 she and her family moved to Louisville, Kentucky, a city under Union control, but then returned to Nashville in May of that year. In between, she dealt with the unexpected death of their son Charles in April 1863. Charles, a colonel in the Union army serving as a surgeon, was thrown from a horse and killed instantly when his skull was fractured. Although President Lincoln appointed Johnson to serve as military governor of Tennessee in 1862, this did not mean that



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the family was reunited. Johnson returned to the state capital, seeing Eliza infrequently. Just as the nation faced tragedy during the Civil War, so too did the Johnsons. Death, misfortune, and hardship took their toll on Eliza, most likely exacerbating her illness. As Lincoln’s running mate in 1864, Johnson campaigned in the North while continuing his responsibilities in Nashville, and he left another family crisis to Eliza’s care when their son Robert was forced to resign in 1864 due to his alcoholism. She took Robert to a sanatorium in Lexington, Massachusetts, where she, too, received treatment for her condition. The family faced yet another tragedy at the year’s end when Mary’s husband died, and Eliza offered to help her widowed daughter. For this reason Eliza was not in Washington when Johnson became president following Lincoln’s assassination. She arrived nearly four months later, on August 6, 1865, and quickly assumed a supportive role (Anthony, 1990: 203). According to Anthony (1990), Eliza’s influence on her husband was strong, especially during his presidency. From meeting with him in the mornings to discuss his schedule and appointments, to keeping up with the national newspapers and political journals, she served as his political adviser on a daily basis. For the first time in his political career, the family was together. This allowed Eliza to have more direct contact with him, especially as she selected the room immediately across the hall from his office as her sitting room. While she attended to family matters, such as instructing grandchildren or doing needlework, she was able to keep an eye on those who entered or left her husband’s office. She began filling scrapbooks with newspaper articles related to him, good or bad, and would discuss the news with him in the mornings, after breakfast (Anthony, 1990; Young, 1996). In the operation of the White House she remained in charge, her daughters seeing to the execution of their mother’s instructions. Uncomfortable with the attention typically

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focused on the first lady, Eliza quickly ­relegated many of her duties to her daughters, especially the eldest, Martha Patterson. Martha handled her mother’s correspondence, which was voluminous, as petitioners sought the first lady’s intervention with her husband. The daughters also performed many of the hostessing duties. A feature of nearly every first lady’s tenure was related to the condition of the White House upon moving in. In Eliza’s case, despite Mary Lincoln’s attempts to refurbish it, the interior of the House was worn out and souvenir seekers had cut carpets and draperies after Lincoln’s assassination. Under Eliza’s direction, Martha used the $30,000 granted by Congress to put up new wallpaper and to make linen slipcovers for the areas open to the public (Young, 1996). Following tradition, the Johnsons hosted receptions on the New Year and held weekly levées at which Martha and her sister Mary frequently served as hostesses on their mother’s behalf. At other functions Martha would attend the long state dinners with her father, but Eliza would join the guests afterwards in the drawing room (Young, 1996). Eliza selected menus, checked her husband’s daily wardrobe, and sent help when notified that members of the White House staff were ill or in need of assistance. She did attend the important reception held for Queen Emma of the Sandwich Isles in 1866, and also used her role as first lady to support her husband’s efforts toward reuniting the nation. She donated items for a public auction that was held to raise money for an orphanage for southern white children in Charleston, South Carolina, believing that this would help bind some of the nation’s wounds. Her donations garnered positive attention from southerners, but some Radical Republicans criticized her because the orphanage did not accept African American children (National First Ladies Library, 2014).

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Eliza was certainly her husband’s staunchest supporter. As he came into conflict with Congress over Reconstruction policy, he relied on her as a sounding board and to provide a calm assurance that he was doing what he believed was right for the nation (Crook, 1911). One Johnson biographer asserted: “I should not wonder if Andrew Johnson did not consult his wife … more than he did any fellow statesman” (Robert Winston, as quoted in Anthony, 1990: 205). Eliza poured over the papers from March 23 to May 16, 1868, during the impeachment trial of her husband, clipping newspaper articles and political cartoons both supportive and condemnatory of Johnson. The records she kept fill several scrapbooks and provide a valuable resource for scholars. According to Crook, Eliza “never lost courage,” and when Crook told her of her husband’s acquittal, she replied: “Crook, I knew he’d be acquitted, I knew it” (Crook, 1911: 67). According to all accounts, having the extended family together during the White House years was a joy for both Eliza and her husband. She loved watching the five grandchildren play together and watched them participate in the White House egg rolling on Easter Monday, a practice started by the Lincolns but expanded and made an annual event by the Johnsons. Eliza did not join the children on the lawn but watched the activities from the south portico (National First Ladies Library, 2014). The president found enjoyment in his grandchildren as well, and so Martha, perhaps at Eliza’s suggestion, organized the first children’s party held in the White House on Andrew’s birthday, December 29, 1868 (Crook, 1911). Even so, she was happy to leave the White House and to return to some normalcy after nearly four tumultuous years. The family returned to Greeneville immediately after Johnson’s term expired in March 1869. Mary remarried shortly thereafter, but Eliza was devastated when, on April 27, 1869, her son Robert committed

suicide. Along with the progression of her tuberculosis, this second death of a child left Eliza even weaker. The next few years were quiet ones, enjoyed with her remaining children and grandchildren. In 1875 her husband was elected to the US Senate once again, something that both felt was vindication after the political attacks he had received during the impeachment hearings. Later that year he suffered a stroke while visiting his daughter Mary and died. Eliza was too weak to attend his funeral; she herself died on January 15, 1876, in her hometown of Greeneville, Tennessee. She is buried next to her husband, in Andrew Johnson National Cemetery. Scholars (Anthony, 1990; Young, 1996; Roberts, 2003) generally portray Eliza as unassuming—an invalid unable to perform many of the social functions expected of the first lady. They acknowledge the calming influence she had on her husband and the quiet family lifestyle of the Johnsons by comparison to that of their predecessors, the Lincolns. While most agree that she was an equal intellectual partner for her husband, Caroli (1987) questions whether Eliza may have used her illness as an excuse, to avoid the responsibilities of first lady, and states that, after Eliza taught Andrew all she knew, he quickly “outdistanced” her. Caroli also quotes an unpublished manuscript of a biographer who claims that the Johnsons were “not very clever [and] were put in a position to which they were unequal” (Blanton, n.d., as quoted in Caroli, 1987: 57). Recent biographers of Andrew Johnson (Gordon‐Reed, 2011; Trefousse, 1989) have been more critical of his administration and of his lack of support for reforms that would benefit African Americans after the Civil War. Whereas Reconstruction was considered a failed policy for many years and the governments of that era that enfranchised African Americans were savagely criticized by William A. Dunning (1902), whose influence long outlasted his time, Eric Foner (1988) developed the argument that



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Reconstruction did not go far enough to ensure rights that would take another century to regain. Eliza’s reputation, however, seems to have suffered little as a result of her husband’s changing status. In part, this may reflect the fact that she has not received a full biography yet. Her life has been featured mostly in compendia on first ladies or other general works. Julia Dent Grant Julia Grant’s memoirs, written in the 1890s, remain the best source of information on her; they cover her childhood years, her life with her husband Ulysses S. Grant during the Civil War, her time as first lady, the couple’s experiences during the world tour (1877–1879), and their life together until Grant’s death in 1885. Yet, as she was unable to find a publisher agreeable to her terms, the memoirs remained in manuscript form and in the family’s hands until 1975. Several individuals conducting research on Ulysses or Julia were allowed to read the manuscript in the twentieth century, but the family did not allow these authors to quote directly from it in their works. In 1975 Dr. John Y. Simon, editor of The Papers of Ulysses S. Grant, convinced Julia’s descendants to allow him to edit and publish The Personal Memoirs of Julia Dent Grant (Mrs. Ulysses S. Grant) (see Grant, 1975). While nearly all of Ulysses Grant’s letters were preserved, including personal ones to Julia and to other family members prior to his rise to fame, very few of her letters have survived. The extant ones are mainly those written to various individuals after Grant’s death, which help to piece together the portion of her life she left out of her memoirs. It is possible that descendants still have some of Julia’s letters to her husband, but it appears more likely that, if Grant kept them, once he died she chose to destroy them, as many previous first ladies have. From Grant’s correspondence to Julia, especially

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during the Civil War period, it is possible to discern some of her thoughts and concerns. The only full‐length publication about Julia Grant is Ishbel Ross’s (1959) The General’s Wife, now over fifty years old. The book was based on an extensive review of primary and secondary source materials that are listed by chapter in the bibliography, but not individually footnoted, which makes verification of material difficult. In preparation for writing The General’s Wife, Ross was one of the researchers allowed to read Julia’s unpublished manuscript. She visited Julia’s childhood home in St. Louis, White Haven, as part of her research, and talked with the Wenzlick family, who owned the property at the time. (The 10‐acre core of White Haven is now the Ulysses S. Grant National Historic Site, a unit of the National Park Service.) Ross also met with numerous Grant descendants, who provided her with much of the material included in the book. Ross also relied heavily on In the Days of My Father, General Grant, authored by the Grants’ youngest son, Jesse Grant Junior (Grant, 1925). Ross’s work asserted that Julia’s love and faith in her husband were crucial to his well‐ being and subsequent rise to fame. Julia, she writes, was a “generous and warm‐hearted” individual, liked by almost everyone. Ross stressed the supportive role Julia played throughout her marriage to Grant. During the war, this meant being with him as often as circumstances allowed. The prevailing view of Grant as a drunk (Woodward, 1928; Hesseltine, 1935; Cadwallader, 1955) was perpetuated by Ross (1959), who asserted that Julia kept Grant sober simply by being with him. Several recent authors have concurred in this view (Dorsett, 1983; Farina, 2007), although other scholars (Scaturro, 1998; Simpson, 2000), while supporting Julia’s positive influence on her husband, challenge the premise that Grant was an alcoholic. Ross (1959) also related much about Julia’s happiness during the White House

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years and about their tour around the world. Because the sources almost always referred to Grant, Julia again played a secondary role in Ross’s narrative of their travels. During the sad last year of Grant’s financial misfortune and illness, Ross states that Julia initially tried to convince herself that he would recover, but finally accepted the inevitable in April 1885. The shortage of primary source material available at the time on Julia’s last seventeen years of life left Ross to sum up that period in one final chapter of the book, in which she concluded that Julia had lived a rich and full life, sharing Grant’s hardships as well as his fortunes. Numerous compilations of the lives of first ladies include references to Julia Grant. Anthony (1990) introduces Julia in the chapter on the Civil War and presents her as struggling with the concept of secession, believing that states had the right to secede, and yet asserting that the government had the duty to prevent “dismemberment of the Union” (Grant, 1975: 184). Anthony (1990) relied heavily on Julia’s memoirs to describe her early life and her confidence in her husband’s future success despite the difficult first years of their marriage. He described her as “a witty conversationalist, excellent dancer, and graceful horsewoman. She was warmhearted, spontaneous, and genuine” (Anthony, 1990: 191). Anthony’s purpose in writing First Ladies was to demonstrate the power each of the first ladies enjoyed, and Julia was no exception. According to him, Julia served as Grant’s morale booster and carried power of her own to act as mediator between Grant and his staff officers. Anthony (1990: 209) described Julia as having ambition for herself as well as for her husband, but he said that her “primary role was partner to her husband.” Anthony argued that, as other biographers noted, the Grants’ relationship was very close and nurturing; throughout their marriage public displays of affection were common, and the two were together as often as possible.

Most biographies of Grant present some information on Julia. The consensus of these biographers is well summed up by Horace Porter’s statement that she was “noted for her amiability, her cheerful disposition, and her extreme cordiality of manner” (Porter, 1897: 284). Mary Clemmer (1873) gently criticized her, as did some contemporary newspapers, for not having the social skills of East Coast society women; yet she was often forgiven thanks to her friendly, down‐to‐earth manner. General William T. Sherman, arguably Grant’s closest friend, said that Grant was a mystery to him, and Simpson (2000) advances the thesis that Grant’s life was an enigma: How could one man go from seeming obscurity and failure to undisputed greatness as general? Julia, too, seems difficult to understand in light of the several paradoxes in her life. Carol Berkin’s (2009) analysis of Julia Dent Grant concludes that she was content to fulfill the traditional roles of wife and mother and never examined her life in the light of her varied experiences. Taking her memoirs at face value, this would seem accurate, yet a deeper analysis is called for. Julia was raised in the southern slaveholding tradition, yet married a northerner who was instrumental in winning the war that abolished slavery throughout the nation. As a “lady” in the nineteenth‐ century sense of this term, she was expected to defer to her husband in all matters. Yet in several instances she demonstrated a strong personality, especially in asserting her partnership with, rather than subservience to, her husband. Her memoirs (Grant, 1975) are at times flighty and distracting. Occasional bursts of stream‐of‐consciousness writing give the impression of distraction, yet her openness implies that she is sharing past glories with an old friend. Libby Custer (1885), too, wrote to defend her husband’s honor in this more personal style; and Susan B. Anthony’s writings, as edited in Lynn Sherr’s (1996) work, relate personal



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anecdotes that inform the reader about the author’s time and personality. From Julia’s memoirs, as well as from the many surviving letters from Ulysses to her, we know her as the strong individual portrayed by Anthony (1990). Born in St. Louis, Missouri, on January 26, 1826, Julia Dent was the first daughter of Frederick F. Dent and his wife, Ellen Wrenshall Dent. Dent, a merchant in that city, owned a home there as well as an 850‐ acre plantation that he named White Haven, in St. Louis County. Missouri was a slave state and Julia’s father held as many as thirty African American men and women in bondage. This fact also reflected the Dents’ socioeconomic status in Missouri, where owning ten or more slaves was a sign of wealth. Julia grew up thinking that the house kept itself and that her father treated these enslaved individuals like family, who were provided with everything the farm produced; she thus overlooked the reality that it was those individuals who produced everything on the plantation (Grant, 1975). Like most white children who grew up on slave plantations, Julia did not seem to realize the injustice of slavery, either in the way she thought about the institution or in her daily interactions with these individuals; she did not question what she saw as the natural order of her world. No records exist indicating that any of the Dents’ slaves were sold, but census records over the years reflect a decline in the number of enslaved individuals listed as Colonel Dent’s “property.” Julia received her elementary education at a subscription school that her father had helped to start when he donated part of his land and some funds to construct the school. Years later she described the schoolhouse, her teachers, and her lessons in vivid detail, sharing her fondness for reading and her dislike of mathematics. At the age of ten, Julia was sent to a boarding school for girls in the city of St. Louis. There her education included etiquette, literature, music, and

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other skills expected of elite women during the nineteenth century. The cult of true womanhood (on which see Welter, 1966) required women to be pious, pure, and submissive to men and to remain in the domestic sphere, managing the smooth operation of home and taking care of the family. Although this was the cultural norm for elite white women in the North, most women, including Julia, would step out of those bounds as the need arose. Julia’s concerns as a single young lady revolved around the activities of the elite families in St. Louis and the visits of the officers stationed at nearby Jefferson Barracks. She recalled that during her time at boarding school she and her classmates shared thoughts on what type of man they wanted to marry and she, having just finished a novel entitled The Dashing Lieutenant, declared that she wished to marry just such a man (Grant, 1975). Julia remained in the city for some months after her graduation from boarding school in June 1843 and thus she did not meet Ulysses Grant during one of his regular visits to White Haven following his own move to Jefferson Barracks in September of that year. Grant and Fred Dent, one of Julia’s brothers, had been roommates at West Point. When they received their posts after graduation, Fred invited Ulysses to visit his family at White Haven. After Julia’s return home, however, in February 1844, Grant’s visits became more frequent, and the two often took rides on horseback or walked together (Grant, 1975: 48). They were “opposites” in some ways, but their attraction to each other was evident to all. He was quiet and shy; she was outgoing and personable. Julia’s ability to put others at ease with her friendly manner and genuine interest in them appealed to Grant. Initially his status as a second lieutenant and friend of her brother attracted him to her, but their shared interests drew them closer. Grant discovered his true feelings in May 1844, when he was informed that his

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regiment would be transferred to Louisiana, in anticipation of border disputes with Mexico after the expected annexation of Texas. Julia, four years younger, told him she thought it would be fun to be engaged when he first proposed, but she was not ready for marriage and therefore would not accept the ring he offered. Julia soon realized her own feelings while Grant was away visiting his family, and when he returned they exchanged rings and promised to write until they could be reunited and marry (Grant, 1975: 50). Although Grant mustered up the courage to ask Julia’s father for her hand in marriage, Mr. Dent did not immediately approve, although he did not object to their correspondence and eventually accepted their union. During the four years in which they were separated due to Grant’s service in the Mexican–American War, Grant wrote many letters to Julia, expressing his love and desire to be married. None of her letters to him have survived, but from his correspondence it is evident that she was not as prompt in writing to him, being distracted by her family and her friends in St. Louis or at White Haven. Although Grant initially worried that she would forget him and find another suitor, his correspondence gradually reflects confidence in her feelings for him (Simon, 1967–2009). Their marriage took place at the Dent home in the city of St. Louis, on August 22, 1848. Julia married her “dashing lieutenant.” She soon found that being the wife of a military officer brought changes she had not considered. First was the fact that Grant was now stationed in Detroit, Michigan, and she faced the prospect of leaving her family and St. Louis for the first time in her life. Parting proved to be difficult, especially from her father. After many tears, she realized that her place was now at her husband’s side (Grant, 1975: 58). The move to Detroit, and then to Sackets Harbor, New York, brought additional changes. Julia now had to set up

housekeeping without the aid of enslaved help. Grant’s salary allowed her to hire a woman to cook and clean, but Julia quickly learned that the house did not keep itself. The Grants were welcomed into the social circles at both posts, enjoying the company of the other officers and their families, many of whom Grant had known from West Point, Jefferson Barracks, and the Mexican–American War. Julia, always able to make friends easily, also reacquainted herself with officers and women she knew from St. Louis. She returned to White Haven in May 1850, in order to be with her mother when she gave birth to her first child—a son named Fred, after her father. Back in Detroit and then in New York, Julia settled into her roles as wife and mother, providing the loving home environment Grant relied on. After she became pregnant with their second child, Grant’s regiment was transferred to the West Coast. Although Julia desperately wanted to go with him, Grant feared for his son’s and his wife’s safety during the long journey, given her condition. She and young Fred returned to White Haven by way of Ohio, stopping at his parents’ home in Georgetown, where she gave birth to their second son. She named him Ulysses, after his father. For the next two years she was a single parent raising the two boys at White Haven while Grant remained stationed at various posts in the northwest. Once again, she had the benefit of being at home, with family to help her and with the enslaved women to care for her two boys, while Grant was isolated from those he loved, bored, and lonely. He resigned from the army in 1854 in order to return to his family, and the reunion was a happy one, both husband and wife resolving to avoid such long separations in the future. Between 1854 and 1859 Ulysses worked on the White Haven farm, managing it for his father‐in‐law and farming a portion for his own family—which would increase with



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the birth of a daughter, Ellen, in 1855 and of a third son, Jesse, in 1858. The Grants were happy to be reunited, yet their love was nevertheless tested during these years, as they faced financial difficulties. Julia’s father was no longer the wealthy plantation owner—he was land rich and cash poor. Grant worked hard plowing, planting, and harvesting alongside the Dent slaves. His own upbringing in an antislavery home conflicted with his new life. He recognized Colonel Dent’s right to own slaves and accepted Julia’s reliance on them, but he told the enslaved cook, Mary Robinson (1885), that he hoped to free the Dent slaves if he ever got the chance. Grant built a home for his growing family on a portion of the White Haven estate, naming the house “Hardscrabble” on account of its looks as well as of the life situation in which the family found itself. Although Julia, like Grant, adapted to the changing roles and fortunes of the family, she avoided household chores and clung to her memories of life at the White Haven main house, as she recognized that the log cabin they lived in did not fit with her perception of herself as a lady. When her mother died, she was able to return to what she saw as her proper station and become mistress of White Haven in 1857. It is evident from her memoirs that she felt her role was to support her husband emotionally and to be a proper hostess when in the public eye—a role that necessitated the services of the enslaved women at White Haven. According to Sanfilippo (2003), Julia was to regret the loss of the labor of these individuals as a result of the Civil War and emancipation, as she believed that they had been well provided for on her plantation. Illness, bad weather, and an economic downturn forced Ulysses, along with many other farmers, to seek other jobs. The Grants moved into the city of St. Louis and White Haven was rented out. Grant tried his hand at real estate, rent collecting, and being a customs officer, all with little

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success. In April 1860 the family moved to Galena, Illinois, where Ulysses joined his brothers in the Grant family leather goods store. The Dents had friends from St. Louis who had moved to Galena, and once again Julia easily fit into the social life. She did not, however, have the household help of any of the Dent slaves, since Illinois was a free state, so the Grants hired Irish women to assume those duties. When the Civil War broke out in April 1861, Grant quickly volunteered his services, including working for Governor Richard Yates to recruit soldiers from Illinois. Julia volunteered to do some sewing to support the troops but found herself lacking the needed skills. She recalled: “As my husband had already offered his sword and his services to his country, I felt it to be my duty to give all my care to his little ones, which I faithfully did” (Grant, 1975: 89). With Grant’s long absences from home, Julia was responsible for handling many of the roles previously held by her husband. She often relied on Grant’s advice, but also made decisions on her own that affected day‐to‐day operations and long‐term rental of their property in St. Louis. During the war Julia’s father nearly lost the White Haven farm, and the Grants began purchasing it, hoping to retire there after the war ended. She was involved in purchasing this land, leasing their Hardscrabble farm, and then later providing a statement to the court about her role when they were forced to evict the tenant at Hardscrabble. Grant seldom phrased his instructions to her as commands, knowing that Julia had the ability and confidence to make responsible decisions (Simon, 1967–2009: 5, 6, 8, 11, 12). Throughout the war Julia joined her husband at or near his various headquarters whenever he felt it was safe enough for her to do so. As Grant rose to fame, it became easier for Julia and the four children to be with him, since he now had the financial means for them to travel. Wives of some of the other officers on Grant’s staff often

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accompanied Julia, sharing accommodations and companionship as they traveled to join their spouses. While Grant was still in the West, Julia went to Holly Springs, Mississippi, where she stayed in the home of a confederate officer whose wife was still living there. Although the city was now under Union control, Julia was a guest in the enemy’s home. During her stay, she felt guilty about listening to the women sing “their rebel war songs.” Later, when asked whether she was southern, she told them no, she was from Missouri. When they responded, “Missouri is a Southern state. Surely you are Southern in feeling and principle,” she asserted that she was “the most loyal of the loyal” (Grant, 1975: 106). The fact that she had brought one of the Dent slaves with her to assist with the care of her youngest son, Jesse, would have fueled the southern women’s doubts about Julia’s loyalties. Similarly, Mary Lincoln was criticized for her southern family connections (Baker, 1987). Ulysses and Julia’s desire to be together as often as possible occasionally put her at risk of being captured by the enemy. In Holly Springs, confederate General Earl Van Dorn made a raid on the city and came to the house where Julia had been staying just the day before. The mistress of the house informed Van Dorn that Mrs. Grant was not there and that her baggage had also been removed from the house, when in fact it had not. Had she been captured, it is impossible to say what terms Van Dorn would have exacted for her release, or to what lengths Grant would have gone to secure her freedom. When Grant was transferred to the East and put in charge of all Union armies in 1864, Julia reveled in his success and was soon making plans to join him. Finding suitable housing in Philadelphia or Princeton proved difficult, and she finally settled in Burlington, New Jersey, where she resumed her active social life. She was enthusiastic about showing her friends and relatives

around, even traveling to Washington, DC with the wives of her brothers Lewis and John, and she began her entry into Washington society. Throughout the war Julia served as a confidante for her husband and as a conduit for many of his subordinate officers when they sought to gain Grant’s ear. Some officers were surprised that Grant allowed her to remain in the room while they discussed campaign tactics and strategy, and in their private conversations she shared her thoughts as to the actions that Grant might take. She appealed successfully to him on behalf of a soldier convicted of treason for being absent without leave, after the soldier’s wife visited her, although Grant feared that he was making a mistake by granting the reprieve. Late in the war General O. O. Ord suggested that Julia Grant meet with General James Longstreet’s wife Louise to discuss an end to the conflict. Despite numerous pleas from Julia, Ulysses refused to let women try to end the war begun by men (Grant, 1975; Simon, 1996). Julia and Ulysses in many respects had a traditional marriage, in the sense that Julia played a supportive role to her husband. She had unfailing faith in his abilities and defended him against all detractors until the day she died. Grant’s biographers (Smith, 2000; Perret, 1997) have referred to her love for Grant as being crucial to his mental well‐being, and Grant recognized this himself. After the Civil War ended, the Grants were given a home in Philadelphia by grateful city residents. They lived there for about six months, starting in May 1865, as Grant was dividing his time between Philadelphia and his responsibilities as general in chief in Washington, DC. When this became too time‐consuming and Grant found himself unable to leave the capital, they purchased a house in Washington, on I Street. She occasionally traveled back to St. Louis or Galena to visit family and friends, but also began settling into the social life of Washington,



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attending receptions at the White House even as her husband started to break with President Johnson (Caroli, 1987). When Grant’s name was put forward for the Republican Party’s nomination for presidency in 1868, Julia was not sure she wanted him to change professions. She had always wanted a “dashing lieutenant” for a husband and, since his promotion to the newly created rank of general of the entire United States army in July 1866, she enjoyed being Mrs. General Grant. Caroli (1987) and Roberts (2003) argue that both Ulysses and Julia were secretly ambitious for the White House, although Simon (1996) sees less design in their actions. As it turned out, Julia would come to enjoy her eight years in the White House, in part because it was the longest time she and Ulysses spent together in one place since their marriage began (Sanfilippo, 1997). According to Anthony (1990: 210), Julia was “the first First Lady to always acknowledge reporters and to issue a press release”— in which she announced “her disinterest [sic] in being ‘fashion dictator.’” Julia’s influence on Grant, according to Anthony (1990) and Roberts (2003), increased after his presidential term of office began. Newspaper accounts stated that numerous changes in Grant’s Cabinet were in part the result of Julia’s dislike of the wives of these men. Roberts (2003) especially lends credence to this claim, arguing that she was successful in several cases. Simon (1996), however, counters this assertion, arguing that Grant had kept his own counsel as general and that, although Julia may have made her suggestions known, he relied on his own judgment in making major decisions. In order to stay involved, Julia kept informed of political events, attended Senate hearings, and occasionally walked in on Grant’s meetings, asking questions and sharing her views with those in attendance. Julia considered herself an equal partner in her relationship with Grant, and this carried over to women’s rights in general. She

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instituted the protocol of having wives of foreign diplomats be greeted by the wife of the secretary of state, and she included the spouses of congressmen and other government officials as part of her receiving line at afternoon receptions. At those receptions she made it clear that all were to be welcomed, regardless of socioeconomic background. When asked about African American women, Julia paused before declaring that all were welcome. Unbeknownst to her, however, these individuals were denied entrance and she never questioned their absence (Grant, 1975). She and Susan B. Anthony became friends after the latter refused to support Victoria Woodhull or Horace Greeley in the 1872 presidential election and supported Grant instead. Although Julia didn’t publicly support women’s suffrage, she was not against it either; she refused to sign a petition against female voting rights that many of her friends signed. When Admiral David Porter jokingly referred to Secretary of the Navy Gideon Welles as “a regular old woman,” Julia took offense, stating that “women considered it a great disrespect to have [men] called old women” (Grant, 1975: 179). As first lady, Julia demonstrated her support of her husband’s policies and programs through her own activities. Thus, as the president continually promoted harmony with former adversaries and throughout the nation, Julia selected a pattern for White House china that also supported the reunited nation: the state flower for all states was represented on the various pieces. Similarly, Julia’s receptions and dinners at the White House sought to bring together individuals who were at odds with one another. The guest list crossed party lines at these gatherings held at the White House, demonstrating Julia’s political astuteness, social skills, and support for her husband’s policies and for women’s roles. Her awareness of the topics being debated in Congress informed whom she invited

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and where they were seated. Any tense moments encountered when men opposed to each other or to Grant found themselves seated in proximity to each other were soon resolved thanks to Julia’s hospitality. According to one source, Julia’s receptions for the ladies included the “poorest working women” as well as the social elite, and their “favorite topic was … woman suffrage” (Casey, 1918). Julia continued to be a sounding board for Grant, listening to his proposed policies or to the difficulties he faced with Congress or with Cabinet members and making suggestions in response. When he was troubled about a decision he needed to make, she would ask questions so as to draw him out and help frame his thinking Similarly, because Grant was not an easy conversationalist with those he didn’t know, Julia had a technique she used to engage him. Taking advantage of the stereotype of the dimwitted woman, she would begin telling a story about something, intentionally telling it wrong. Grant would interrupt to correct her, and she would then ask him to finish since his memory was more accurate, thus making it easier for him to join in the conversation (Grant, 1975). When the Grants first moved into the White House, eastern elites were ready to criticize these “westerners” for their lack of social graces, much the same as when the Lincolns had been attacked. Julia seems to have felt some trepidation, but, between asking elite women like Secretary of State Hamilton Fish’s wife, Julia, to assist her and her own friendly and unassuming personality, she was quickly forgiven for any slight faux pas and accepted into their circles. After Grant’s second term as president, there was talk of a third‐term nomination, but Grant had no desire to remain in the White House. Scholarship on Grant’s presidency has changed over the years. Many early authors (Woodward, 1928; Hesseltine, 1935; McFeely, 1981) blamed Grant for the numerous scandals uncovered during his

administration, although most found him personally innocent of any wrongdoing. More recent scholarship (Smith, 2000; Scaturro, 1998) has shown that Grant, while too trusting of some, supported the swift prosecution of wrongdoers and was a strong advocate for civil rights for African Americans, Native Americans, and immigrants. His ranking in recent academic polls continues to improve. Julia did harbor resentment against those who she felt were threatening her husband’s character and office, and occasionally she tried to influence his decisions regarding appointments to high office, as noted above. Simon (1996) argues that Grant listened to counsel from various sources, as he had before, but always made his own decisions. Grant’s lack of interest in a third term was fueled by the constant political attacks. He had been in the public eye for fifteen years, and was ready to return to what he hoped would be a more private life. He knew, however, that Julia wanted to remain in the White House for a third term, so he did not share with her his letter indicating his refusal to be considered—not until after it had been written and delivered. She was not happy with his decision, and when they left the White House in March 1877 she said she felt “like a waif” without a home (Grant, 1975: 197). Julia soon found herself in the limelight again, however, as the Grants began what was to become a two‐and‐a‐half‐year world tour. Grant had hoped to travel as a private citizen, but—of course—everywhere they went he was welcomed as a hero and a representative of the United States. Descriptions of their travels fill nearly half of Julia’s memoirs; she recalls places they visited, dignitaries they met, and her husband’s international fame. Some historians (McFeely, 1981) have considered the Grants’ world tour as strictly a long vacation and shopping spree, but a book by Edwina Campbell (forthcoming) argues that it served as the first diplomatic mission by a former president on behalf of a growing world power. John Russell Young,



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a reporter for the New York Herald, documented the trip, and upon their return published Around the World with General Grant (Young, 1897). Such books confirm the ­significant meetings Grant had and his role as unofficial ambassador of the United States. Julia, too, took part in this mission, representing the women of the United States and demonstrating understanding for the subordinate status of women in many of the countries she visited. In some countries, wives and daughters of the princes and monarchs who hosted receptions and ­dinners in her husband’s honor met with her in private chambers for women only (Grant, 1975). Returning to the United States in 1879, the Grants settled in New York City in order to be closer to their family. Julia seemed happy in her role as grandmother, doting on the grandchildren much as she had on her own children. Once again, there was strong support for Grant’s seeking another term as president. While it appeared that this time Grant was interested, he refused to campaign at the convention and lost the nomination. The Grants maintained their busy social life and travels over the next few years, until financial and medical misfortune brought an end to their happiness. An unscrupulous business partner, Ferdinand Ward, caused bankruptcy and left the Grants with only the house they lived in (saved because it was in Julia’s name), and almost no cash. Grant had sacrificed his military pension to be president, and there was at the time no presidential pension. In order to provide for his family, he began writing a series of articles, and then was encouraged to write his memoirs. Julia, like her husband, felt betrayed by Ward, and yet refused to allow the threat of poverty to discourage her. Grant’s cancer, however, devastated her—for a long time she refused to believe that he was dying. As she watched him struggle with excruciating pain in order to finish the memoirs, she saw his life fade away. Although she knew before

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he died that the memoirs would provide her with a very comfortable lifestyle after he was gone, this did not ease the pain of losing her husband of thirty‐seven years. Overcome with grief, she was unable to attend his funeral in New York City; she remained in the home where he had died, in upstate New York, until August 1885. One of her first concerns after Grant’s death was his tomb. Mayor William Grace of New York City wrote to her to address rumors that the family wanted to move Grant’s body to Washington, noting that such stories were hampering the fundraising for the Grant Monument. Julia reassured him that there were four reasons why the family chose New York City: it was Ulysses’s preference; it was near her home, so she could visit often; it was accessible to the many soldiers who wished to visit the final resting place of their commander; and New York had first offered a place and had agreed to her husband’s only condition: that, when she died, there would be a place for her as well. Throughout her widowhood, Julia continued to promote the good name of her husband and to defend him as she saw fit. When Grant’s former staff assistant, Adam Badeau, tried to claim joint authorship of Grant’s memoirs, Julia adamantly denied his claim and the family took him to court. The case was settled in the Grants’ favor. During her remaining years Julia continued to be involved in the public arena. She met Varina Davis (wife of former c­ onfederate President Jefferson Davis), and the two became friends. Just as she had during her husband’s presidency, Julia sought to represent his desire that the country should be reunited, in heart as well as fact. Recent scholarship (Blight, 2001) has questioned the detrimental effects of a reconciliation that eclipsed and eventually suppressed the hard‐ won battles for African American rights, leading to Jim Crow policies. However, Grant had consistently maintained that what had been won in war—union and the end of

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s­lavery—should not be lost in peace. He sought reconciliation with the South, but did not want this at the expense of African Americans (Grant, 1885; Simon, 1967– 2009: 19–27). Ahead of his time, his policies were not sustained after he left office. Julia Grant moved back to Washington, DC in the 1890s, serving as advisor to later first ladies and wives of Cabinet members and congressmen. In 1898 she accepted the honorary title of president of the Woman’s National War Relief Association, organized during the war with Spain. Such a position recognized her prestige in the national arena. She wrote an article for Harper’s Bazar in which she argued for support for the wives, children, widows, and orphans of all soldiers. A thankful nation, she said, owed it to those soldiers to ensure that their children had the opportunity for a good education. After spending the summer of 1902 in Coburg, Canada, with Nellie, her daughter, Julia became ill in October and remained in poor health. Her sons were sent for, and all of the children were together at the time of her death on December 14, 1902. Per her husband’s wish, she was buried alongside him in the monumental tomb completed in 1897 along the Hudson River in Riverside Park. Julia Grant recognized that her fame was a result of being the wife of Ulysses S. Grant, commander of the Union armies, president, and distinguished citizen. She did not see this as subordinating her role as partner in their marriage and in the raising of their children. As she moved into the public spotlight with him, she capably handled the numerous responsibilities associated with such prestige. She understood that what she did or said could be used against her husband, and she tactfully followed his lead in remaining quiet, despite a strong desire to counter any negative charges made against him. By today’s standards, she would not be considered a feminist; yet among her contemporaries she was a self‐confident partner to her husband. Moreover, her interests in women’s active

role at receptions in the White House and in their often compromised status abroad confirm her concerns for female emancipation. Her activities in the White House redefined the role of first lady as an active participant in public affairs and representative of women across the nation. Currently no scholarly biography of either Eliza Johnson or Julia Dent Grant is available, although this author is working on a monograph of Julia Grant. Given the numerous resources available on women’s history today, explorations of these women—in comparison or in contrast to others—and of the significant roles they played in the nation’s history would be of interest. Both women had direct experiences with enslaved individuals—Julia from birth, Eliza when her husband purchased Dolly and Sam early in their marriage. Study of their relationships with these individuals and of their feelings about slavery and race would prove worthwhile. Less is known about Eliza Johnson, in part because she did not write her memoirs, and this dearth of sources opens up many avenues for research. The unpublished biography of her by Margaret Blanton (n.d.), located at the University of Tennessee, provides a good starting point. With the hundreds of letters that exist from Ulysses S. Grant to Julia, any one of numerous subjects—such as women during the Civil War, travel in the nineteenth century, the White House years, and the Grants’ world tour—might be topics for future researchers to pursue.

References Anthony, C. S. 1990. First Ladies: The Saga of the Presidents’ Wives and Their Power, 1789–1961. New York: William Morrow. Baker, J. H. 1987. Mary Todd Lincoln: A Biography. New York: W. W. Norton. Berkin, C. 2009. Civil War Wives: The Lives and Times of Angelina Grimke Weld, Varina Howell Davis and Julia Dent Grant. New York: Vintage Books.



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firstladies.org/biographies/firstladies.aspx? Blanton, M. G. n.d. “Tennessee Johnson’s Eliza.” biography=18 (accessed October 18, 2015). Special Collections, University of Tennessee Patterson, M. 1878. “Letters of Presidents and Library. Unpublished manuscript. ‘Ladies of the White House.’” Pennsylvania Blight, D. 2001. Race and Reunion: The Civil Magazine of History 26 (2): 271–279. War in American Memory. Cambridge, MA: Perret, G. 1997. Ulysses S. Grant: Soldier and Harvard University Press. President. New York: Random House. Cadwallader, S. 1955. Three Years with Grant, Porter, H. 1897. Campaigning With Grant. edited by B. Thomas. New York: Knopf. New York: Century Company. Campbell, E. S. Forthcoming. Citizen of a Wider Commonwealth: The Post‐presidential Diplomacy Roberts II, J. B. 2003. Rating the First Ladies: The Women Who Influenced the Presidency. of Ulysses S. Grant. Carbondale: Southern New York: Kensington. Illinois University Press. Caroli, B. B. 1987. First Ladies. New York: Robinson, M. 1885. “Auntie Robinson’s Recollections.” St. Louis Republican, July 24. Oxford University Press. Casey, E. D. 1918. “When Grant Went Ross, I. 1959. The General’s Wife: The Life of Mrs. Ulysses S. Grant. New York: Dodd, Mead. a‐­courtin.” Ulysses S. Grant National Historic Sanfilippo, P. K. 1997. “My Farm in Which I Site. Unpublished manuscript. Have Great Interest.” Historic Resource Clemmer, M. 1873. Ten Years in Wash­ Study for Ulysses S. Grant National Historic ington:  Life  and Scenes in the National Site, Phase II. Unpublished manuscript. Capital  as a  Woman Sees Them. Hartford: Sanfilippo, P. K. 2003. “Sunlight and Shadow: A. D. Worthington & Co. Women’s Spaces at White Haven.” In Her Crook, W. 1911. Memories of the White House: Past around Us: Interpreting Sites for Women’s The Home Life of Our Presidents, from Lincoln History, edited by P. Kaufman and K. Corbett, to Roosevelt. Boston: Little, Brown. 103–120. Malabar, FL: Krieger. Custer, E. B. 1885. Boots and Saddles, or, Life in Dakota with General Custer. New York: Scaturro, F. J. 1998. President Grant Reconsidered. Lanham, MD: University Press Harper & Brothers. of America. Dorsett, L. W. 1983. “The Problem of Ulysses S.  Grant’s Drinking during the Civil War,” Sherr, L. 1996. Failure Is Impossible: Susan B. Anthony in Her Own Words. New York: Times Hayes Historical Journal 4: 37–48. Books. Dunning, W. A. 1902. Essays on the Civil War and Reconstruction, rev. edn. New York: Macmillan. Simon, J. Y., ed. 1967–2009. The Papers of Ulysses S. Grant. Carbondale, IL: Southern Illinois Farina, W. 2007. Ulysses S. Grant: His Rise from University Press. Obscurity to Military Greatness. Jefferson, NC: Simon, J. Y., ed. 1996. “Julia (Dent) Grant.” In McFarland. American First Ladies: Their Lives and Their Foner, E. 1988. Reconstruction: America’s Legacy edited by L. L. Gould, 191–201. New Unfinished Revolution, 1863–1877. New York: York: Garland. Harper & Row. Gordon‐Reed, A. 2011. Andrew Johnson. New Simpson, B. D. 2000. Ulysses S. Grant: Triumph over Adversity, 1822–1865. New York: York: Times Books. Houghton Mifflin. Grant, J. D. 1975. The Personal Memoirs of Julia  Dent Grant (Mrs. Ulysses S. Grant), Smith, J. E. 2000. Grant. New York: Simon & Schuster. edited by J. Y. Simon. Carbondale: Southern Trefousse, H. L. 1989. Andrew Johnson: Illinois University Press. A  Biography. Newtown, CT: American Grant, J. R. 1925. In the Days of My Father, Political Biography Press. General Grant. New York: Harper Brothers. Hesseltine, W. B. 1935. Ulysses S. Grant: Truman, M. 1995. First Ladies: An Intimate Group Portrait of White House Wives. Politician. New York: Dodd, Mead. New York: Fawcett Columbine. McFeely, W. S. 1981. Grant: A Biography. New Welter, B. 1966. “The Cult of True Womanhood, York: W. W. Norton. 1820–1860.” American Quarterly 18 (2.1): National First Ladies Library. 2014. “First Lady Biography: Eliza Johnson.” http://www.­ 151–174.

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Woodward, W. E. 1928. Meet General Grant. New York: Horace Liveright. Young, N. B. 1996. “Eliza (McCardle) Johnson.” In American First Ladies: Their Lives and Their Legacy edited by L. L. Gould, 191–201. New York: Garland.

Further Reading Bergeron, P. H. 2011. Andrew Johnson’s Civil War and Reconstruction. Knoxville: University of Tennessee Press. C‐SPAN. 2014. “Eliza Johnson.” First Ladies: Influence and Image. http://firstladies.c‐span. org/FirstLady/19/Eliza‐Johnson.aspx (accessed October 25, 2015).

Grant, U. S. 1990. The Personal Memoirs of  U.  S. Grant. New York: Library of America. Miller Center, University of Virginia. 2014. Eliza  Johnson, Martha Johnson. http://­ m i l l e r c e n t e r. o r g / p r e s i d e n t / e s s a y s /­ johnson‐1865‐firstlady (accessed November 23, 2015). Simpson, B. D. 1998. The Reconstruction Presidents. Lawrence: University Press of Kansas. Stryker, L. P. 1936. Andrew Johnson: A Study in Courage. New York: Macmillan. Young, J. R. 1897. Around the World with General Grant. New York: American Book Company.

Chapter Fifteen

Lucy Webb Hayes, Lucretia Rudolph Garfield, and Mary Arthur McElroy Benjamin T. Arrington

Thomas Wolfe once called four post‐Civil War presidents—Grant, Hayes, Garfield, and Arthur—“the lost Americans,” and wrote of them: “Their gravely vacant and bewhiskered faces mixed, melted, swam together … Which had the whiskers, which the burnsides; which was which?” (Wolfe, quoted in Peskin, 2004: 105). Dismissing these four seemingly unimportant presidents was surely easy both for Wolfe and the American public. Nearly anyone would pale in comparison to the leadership of President Abraham Lincoln during the momentous events of the Civil War. Recent scholarship has begun to demonstrate just how impor­ tant these postwar presidents really were to American history; but, for years, academics and the public alike treated them according to Wolfe’s interpretation. If these presidents were so unimportant and unstudied for so long, their wives were of even less scholarly concern. How many biographies of Mary Todd Lincoln have been produced in recent years? Her mental health, her marriage, her relationship with her African American seamstress—all have been fodder for recent works, including popular films like Spielberg’s Lincoln, released

in 2012. When was the last time historians sat on panels at conferences to debate the true inner workings of the relationship between Rutherford and Lucy Hayes? Can anyone name Lucretia Garfield’s dress­ maker or best friend? How many people are aware that Mary Arthur McElroy, Chester A. Arthur’s sister, served as first lady since her brother was a widower? None of these women has captivated academic or public interest like other first ladies of various eras, for example Dolley Madison, Mary Lincoln, Eleanor Roosevelt, and Jacqueline Kennedy. Like their husbands, however, each led an interesting life, worthy of study and remembrance. Wolfe might have thought of them as the “lost first ladies,” but even cursory research reveals their interests in social causes of the day, their feelings about their roles as presidential wives, and their importance to the adminis­ trations of their husbands (or brother). Just as this era’s limited arena for action has obscured their husbands’ reputations, the social and political customs of the era in which they lived limited their public roles but did not render them unimportant to American history.

A Companion to First Ladies, First Edition. Edited by Katherine A. S. Sibley. © 2016 John Wiley & Sons, Inc. Published 2016 by John Wiley & Sons, Inc.

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Lucy Webb Hayes Lucy Hayes is best remembered as the woman who supposedly banned alcoholic beverages from the White House, thereby earning herself the derisive sobriquet “Lemonade Lucy.” In fact, while she did advocate temperance all her life, the decision to not serve alcohol at White House functions was as much her husband’s as her own. Therefore the one thing that most people know about Lucy Hayes—if they know anything at all—is incorrect. While this mis­ conception would likely have been popularly debunked decades ago, were Mrs. Hayes a better known first lady, the very fact that it is still commonly recited shows just how little public knowledge or understanding of her life exists. While the few serious scholars who have published works on President Hayes—most notably Ari Hoogenboom— have adequately explained that Hayes him­ self was as much responsible as his wife for not serving alcohol, the public image of Mrs. Hayes as “Lemonade Lucy” persists. Lucy Ware Webb was born in Chillicothe, Ohio on August 28, 1831. Her parents were Dr. James Webb and Maria Cook Webb. Although her father came from a wealthy slaveowning Kentucky family, he was himself a vocal abolitionist. He had come north to Ohio to practice medicine after serving in a militia unit during the War of 1812. After settling in Chillicothe in the south–central part of the state, he met Maria Cook, a native of the town, and the two married on April 18, 1826. The future first lady had two older brothers: Joseph, born in 1827; and James, born in 1828. In 1833, when Lucy was just two years old, her father traveled back to Lexington, Kentucky to visit his own ailing father. Traveling during the summer, he arrived in the midst of a cholera outbreak and contracted the disease himself. Just thirty‐eight years old, he died there without ever seeing his wife and children again. His mother, father, and brother perished in the same epidemic.

Lucy’s mother would now be the most important person in Lucy’s development. Like her deceased husband, Maria Webb adhered to abolitionist principles, and this undoubtedly influenced her only daughter’s antislavery views. Lucy’s maternal grandfa­ ther, Isaac Webb, also became very important to her intellectual and emotional growth after her father’s death. He was an abolitionist and a temperance advocate, and under his influence Lucy signed a pledge to never drink alcohol. She became a lifelong adherent of temperance, but she never begrudged anyone who chose to consume. She simply elected not to do it herself. She also resisted formally joining any active temperance organization, though this was likely as much about her eventual husband’s political career than anything else. In 1844, Maria Webb moved her family north to Delaware, Ohio to enroll her sons at the new Methodist‐affiliated Ohio Wesleyan University. Then thirteen years old, Lucy took classes of French, composition, grammar, and other disciplines in the school’s pre­ paratory department. During this period Maria Webb made the acquaintance of Sophia Hayes, a resident of Columbus, Ohio who had once lived in Delaware and came back often to visit relatives and friends. Sophia, mother of the future president of the United States, immediately decided that Lucy Webb, from a respectable family and of strong religious convictions, would make a fine match for her son Rutherford, then aged twenty‐two. Maria Webb also thought that a joining of the two families was a fine idea and took Lucy along on trips to visit Sophia Hayes in Columbus. Rutherford Birchard Hayes was not blind to the match­ making; he told his sister, Fanny Platt: “Mother … selected a clever little school‐ girl named Webb for me in Delaware.” Several months later he told his mother: “I wish I had a wife to take care of my cor­ respondence … I hope you … will see to it that Lucy Webb is properly instructed in this particular” (quoted in Geer, 1984: 7–8).



l u c y w e b b h ay e s , l u c r e t i a r u d o l p h g a r f i e l d , a n d m a r y a rt h u r m c e l r o y

In 1847 Lucy moved by herself to Cincinnati to attend Cincinnati Wesleyan Female College. There she studied rhetoric, geometry, geology, German, French, paint­ ing, music, and other subjects. She also received regular updates from her mother about Rutherford Hayes, who was by then trying to establish himself in the town of Upper Sandusky, Ohio (which would even­ tually change its name to Fremont). In early 1850 Hayes moved to Cincinnati to practice law and began spending many Friday eve­ nings visiting Lucy at the college. That June she graduated with a liberal arts degree that, twenty‐seven years later, would make her the nation’s first first lady with a college education. In June 1851 Rutherford wrote of Lucy in his diary: “by George I am in love with her.” A few weeks later: “I grasped her hand in my own and with a smile … said ‘I love you’ … she said ‘I must confess I like you very well’” (quoted in Geer, 1984: 20). The couple married on December 30, 1852. The bride was twenty‐one years old; the groom, thirty. The union eventually produced eight chil­ dren—seven sons and a daughter—five of whom survived into adulthood. By all appear­ ances and recollections, Rutherford and Lucy Hayes had a happy, fulfilling marriage that lasted until her death. After one month of marriage, Rutherford told his diary: “A better wife I never hoped to have … This is indeed life … Blessings on his head who first invented marriage” (quoted in Geer, 1984: 28). Four decades later, shortly before his own death, the man who had served as president of the United States after being elected in one of the most contentious elections in the nation’s history—in addition to being a US Representative, a general in the Union army, and governor of one of the nation’s most important states—called his marriage to the former Lucy Webb “the most interesting fact in his life” (Geer, 1984: 274). Lucy’s antislavery leanings and interest in national politics did not dissipate after her marriage. The North and the South became

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increasingly alienated over the slavery issue during the momentous decade of the 1850s, and the rhetoric on both sides led many to predict eventual violence. Lucy and her husband enthusiastically supported John C.  Fremont’s campaign for the White House in 1856, when he ran as the first ever presidential candidate of the new Republican Party. The Republicans’ slogan that year was “Free Soil, Free Labor, Free Men, Fremont!” Though unsuccessful, Fremont showed that the fledgling party deserved to be taken seriously. Lucy was distraught over Fremont’s loss in 1856, which caused Rutherford to remark: “Lucy takes it to heart a good deal that Jessie [Fremont’s wife] is not to be mistress of the White House” (quoted in National First Ladies Library, 2014c). The Civil War began on April 12, 1861 with the confederate firing on Fort Sumter. By the end of May, Rutherford B. Hayes— despite being the father of three young chil­ dren and having a wife who expected their fourth—had decided to enter the army, eventually obtaining a commission as the major of the 23rd Ohio infantry regiment. Rutherford remained in the Union’s service for the rest of the war and was wounded several times. Lucy took to the role of soldier’s wife surprisingly well, and she retained the affection of the men of her husband’s regi­ ment for the rest of her life. With her husband in the army, Lucy and her children often stayed with relatives in Chillicothe. She traveled to see him when­ ever she could and wrote him letters, though one of the few complaints Rutherford B. Hayes ever expressed about his wife was about her dislike of writing. She continued to privately express her opinions on the political questions of the day, becoming particularly incensed when President Lincoln countermanded an emancipation order issued by her old hero, Gen. John C. Fremont, in Missouri. She wrote to her husband that “the protection of slavery is costing us many precious lives” (quoted in Trefousse, 2002: 27).

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In September 1862 then Colonel Hayes sustained a serious wound at the battle of South Mountain, just a few days before the larger fight at Antietam. A confederate ball struck him in the arm just above the elbow. When Lucy received word of his injury, she rushed to his side and helped nurse him back to health. She also provided care for other wounded soldiers of the 23rd Ohio, and this gesture endeared her greatly to the men under her husband’s command. On August 6, 1864, when Colonel Hayes was still in the field, Republicans in Cincinnati nominated him to run for a seat representing the second congressional district in the US House of Representatives. Hayes accepted the nomination but refused to leave the army to go home and campaign, telling a journalist: “An officer fit for duty who at this crisis would abandon his post to electioneer for a seat in Congress ought to be scalped” (quoted in Trefousse, 2002: 36). Elected to the House, Hayes did not report to take his seat until December 1865. He remained in the army for the rest of the war, eventually receiving promotion to brigadier general. Once Hayes was in Congress, Lucy often traveled to Washington from Ohio to be with him. She regularly attended House sessions and watched from the gallery. The two enjoyed their time together after the long periods of separation during the war, but they found themselves uninterested in the capital city’s seemingly endless round of social obligations for members of Congress. To use a modern term, Rutherford and Lucy Hayes were something of a “homebody” couple, much preferring an evening spent together or with their children than at receptions that seemed all alike to them. The year 1866 was a difficult one for Lucy and Rutherford Hayes. Their son George died of scarlet fever on May 24, at the age of twenty months. Four months later, on September 14, Lucy’s mother Maria died, with Lucy at her side. Then, on October 30, Rutherford’s mother, Sophia, who had first conspired to bring her son and

Lucy together, also died. These deaths seemed to reinforce the importance of family togetherness to the couple; in 1867 Rutherford, reelected to Congress but unhappy in Washington, resigned from the House of Representatives to stand for election as the republican candidate for the governorship of Ohio. His war record made him an attractive candidate. His two years in the House had given him little opportunity to truly distinguish himself, though he had been part of the key, though short‐lived, emancipatory measures of early Reconstruction, supporting as he did the Radical Republican party line and the Fourteenth and Fifteenth Amendments to the constitution, which granted citizenship and voting rights to blacks. According to  author Emily Apt Geer, Lucy and Rutherford’s time in Washington also helped Lucy develop an awareness of “the customs and machinations of Washington society” (Geer, 1984: 92) that proved important a decade later, when she became the nation’s first lady. Hayes won election as governor of Ohio, and Lucy became the state’s first lady on January 13, 1868. She supported the building of a home for soldiers’ orphans and worked with deaf children, teaching them to  build memorial wreaths for Decoration Day (now Memorial Day) ceremonies. Knowing of Lucy’s obvious social awareness and concerns, those who advocated women’s suffrage tried to enlist her to their cause. Lucy surprised many, however, by resisting, likely because she wanted to protect Rutherford’s political interests and future. After two enjoyable terms in the governor’s mansion, the Hayes family left Columbus in January 1872. They returned to Cincinnati but eventually moved to Fremont in 1873, to a beautiful property called Spiegel Grove, owned by Rutherford’s uncle Sardis Birchard. There, just before her forty‐ second birthday. Lucy gave birth to the couple’s eighth and last child, another son. The Hayeses spent the next few years



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in relative happiness at Spiegel Grove, improving the house and planting trees and crops. Yet they also endured the death of their new son before his second birthday as well as the passing of Rutherford’s uncle Sardis, who left them the bulk of his estates, valued at about $500,000. Hayes may now have been wealthy, but found that he was not happy to be a mere spectator when it came to politics. Lucy, too, missed the “excitement of public life,” and supported her husband’s decision to seek Ohio’s governorship again in 1875 (Geer, 1984: 113). During this campaign, temperance advocates appealed to Lucy to join their ranks, but she declined. Though she continued to honor the temperance pledge she had signed as a teenager, she was keenly aware of the need to do nothing to offend anyone while her husband stood for election to statewide office. Republicans feared alienating German voters through a forceful stand in favor of temperance. Hayes won the autumn 1875 election by a margin of about 5,500 votes, an excruciatingly tight victory. In hindsight, perhaps it could be viewed as a precursor of things to come. As the unprecedented third‐term governor of one of the nation’s most important and populous states, Hayes was almost immedi­ ately thought of as a potential presidential candidate for 1876. The Republicans held their June 1876 national nominating convention in Hayes’s former hometown of Cincinnati. Though he had of course said nothing publicly about his interest in the presidential nomination, Hayes ensured he was well represented at the convention and made it known to his representatives that he was not interested in the vice presidency. Although other, better known candidates were available, all had considerable political baggage that could complicate the Republicans’ chances of winning the White House that year. By the fifth ballot, delegates were beginning to desert favorites like James G. Blaine and Roscoe Conkling for the inoffensive Hayes,

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who captured the nomination on the seventh ballot. When the Hayses made a visit to Fremont after the convention, a local newspaper reporter wrote: “By the way, if there is any lady in the United States that would make an accomplished and brilliant President’s wife, it is Mrs. Hayes” (quoted in Geer, 1984: 125). The New York Herald wrote: “Mrs. Hayes is a most attractive and lovable woman … She is the life and soul of every party … For the mother of so many children she looks singularly youthful in features” (quoted in Geer, 1984: 125). While Lucy did not note how she felt about such descrip­ tions of herself, she was privately thrilled at the prospect of her husband being elected president of the United States. After watching him make one of his rare campaign appear­ ances, Lucy wrote to one of their sons: “It  was one of the happiest days in your mother’s life … the expressions of pleasure and joy at your father’s appearance touched the old wife who has known his merits for many years” (quoted in Geer, 1984: 128). On Election Day, though, things did not appear to go Hayes’s way, and he and Lucy had to resign themselves to conceding to the democratic opponent, Governor Samuel J. Tilden of New York. However, it soon became clear that the issue was not settled after all. The electoral tallies of South Carolina, Louisiana, and Florida were still in dispute due to irregularities and reports of the intimidation of black voters, who were of course inclined to vote Republican. If Hayes could win the electoral votes of all three, he would have 185 to Tilden’s 184, and Hayes would be president. Without those three states’ electoral votes, Hayes could not win. No one disputed that Tilden had won the popular vote by at least 250,000 votes. With the election undecided and her husband’s political future in doubt, several friends expressed surprise at how calm Lucy Hayes appeared. Congress eventually created an electoral commission to determine which candidate

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was indeed the victor in South Carolina, Louisiana, and Florida. The commission, which included Hayes’s friend, supporter, and White House successor James A. Garfield, determined on March 2, 1877— two days before Inauguration Day—that Hayes was the winner of the presidential election. It had taken four months to unravel and decide the “great lawsuit,” as Lucy Hayes called it, and the Hayes family had two days to get to Washington and prepare to become the nation’s first family. Due to the circumstances under which they moved into the White House, the Hayeses decided to forgo the traditional inaugural ball. Their assumption of the office has long been linked with the official end of government‐sponsored Reconstruction. It was an ironic twist for such strong aboli­ tionists; yet neither the new president nor Lucy ever said anything publicly about their personal feelings on the 1876 dis­ pute—or how they felt about what the compromise that made Hayes president had done in the South. Lucy Webb Hayes was forty‐five years old when she became first lady. The ages of her five surviving children ranged from early twenties to just six years. She still considered her children the primary focus of her life, as she had for more than two decades. This was especially true of the youngest two, Fanny and Scott, the only ones still living at home with their parents. (Their twenty‐one‐ year‐old son Webb also came to the White House to work as his father’s confidential secretary.) Lucy brought a strong sense of civic duty to Washington and was eager to use her position as the president’s wife to effect positive change. Her ideas about social responsibility and charity certainly had their roots in her Methodist faith. However, her possession of a higher education degree should not be discounted when considering her lifelong desire to improve the communities in which she lived—or, in the case of her four years as first lady, the entire nation.

Being the nation’s leading social host was one of every first lady’s primary duties. Despite this, only eight of the previous eighteen presidents—Washington, John Adams, Madison, Monroe, John Quincy Adams, Polk, Lincoln, and Grant—had wives willing or able to assume the full dimensions of serving in this role at the White House. Lucy, however, was up to the task and her social receptions received positive reviews from the press. Reporters regularly complimented her appearance and hospitality. A correspondent for the Washington National Republican praised one of Lucy’s first receptions as “imperial in its magnificence” (Geer, 1984: 143). Mary Clemmer Ames, one of Washington’s first female reporters, told her readers that Lucy had a “gentle and winning face” and “bands of smooth dark hair with that tender light in the eyes we have come to associate with the Madonna” (Truman, 1995: 48–49). Social duties eventually forced Lucy to consider the question of serving alcohol at White House functions. By all accounts, she had never broken the temperance pledge made at her uncle’s insistence while a teenager. When she married, she chose a partner who also willingly adopted lifelong temperance. While governor of Ohio, her husband had lamented the “noble minds rendered unfit to be trusted with public office because of drink” (Truman, 1995: 47). There is no question that both Rutherford and Lucy Hayes sincerely believed in the merits of an alcohol‐free life and had not served any wine or spirits, either privately or during Hayes’s terms as governor. Temperance advocates were hopeful that the new admin­ istration would continue to eschew alcohol. President and Mrs. Hayes held their first state dinner on August 19, 1877, to honor visiting Russian diplomats. Secretary of State William Evarts expressed concern that “a dinner without wine would be an annoy­ ance, if not an affront” to the visitors, and the president agreed with his reasoning. While neither he nor the first lady imbibed,



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temperance advocates and organizations expressed indignation that the first couple had sanctioned the serving of alcohol in the White House. Soon after this event, President Hayes—not Lucy—made the decision to stop serving alcohol at all White House functions, including state dinners. This was likely done as much as a concession to the political power of temperance advo­ cates as in adherence to the Hayeses’ own beliefs on the issue. The Women’s Christian Temperance Union praised the action and began actively seeking to enlist Lucy Hayes as a member of the group, but she resisted for fear of causing her husband any political difficulties. At future White House events guests were often served lemonade with crushed raspberries in it that reddened the drink, making it resemble wine. This is likely the origin of the derisive nickname “Lemonade Lucy,” though no evidence exists that any­ one actually employed it at the time. In fact the name is apparently far more mod­ ern and was likely never used until after Lucy Hayes died. However, it is often the only thing that anyone knows about either of the Hayses who occupied the White House from 1877–1881. Be that as it may, it is clear that the president, not the first lady, implemented the alcohol ban, despite disagreement from many of those close to him. Secretary of State Evarts, who had forcefully argued in favor of serving wine and spirits for the Russian delegation, remembered that in the Hayes White House “[w]ater flowed like champagne” (Harris, 2005: 283). Temperance organizations were not the only groups whose members sought to enlist Lucy Hayes to publicly support their cause. Women’s suffragists also believed they had an ally in the White House in the nation’s first college‐educated first lady, one married to a president who had run for that office on the 1876 republican platform calling for equal rights for women. Even Lucy’s own aunt, Phebe McKell, urged her

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niece to speak out in favor of women’s right to the ballot; she told the first lady in a let­ ter: “There is but one cause in which my whole soul is engaged and that is Woman Suffrage and if my influence is of any avail it will be in that cause” (Geer, 1984: 168). As with temperance, though, Lucy refused to take any public stance on suffrage. This may have been in order to avoid a controversy that might damage her husband, though biographer Emily Apt Geer surmises that Lucy was simply “more comfortable in a traditional role” as wife and mother (Geer, 1984: 169). While she continued to privately advocate temperance and increased rights and education for women, Lucy Hayes never became the vocal public champion of these issues, as so many hoped she would. Instead she “attached more importance to the supervision of White House social activities than involvement in reform movements” (Geer, 1984: 200). Still, Lucy Hayes took at least some interest in the plights of both African Americans and American Indians during her years as first lady. She had been a staunch abolitionist before and during the Civil War; and, while first lady, she met and talked to blacks on her trips to the South and in Washington, DC. She helped the daughter of Winnie Monroe, her longtime African American cook and nurse, attend Oberlin College in Ohio. Lucy Hayes also invited black musical groups to sing at the White House, including students of the Colored Industrial School and the famous Madame Selika (Marie Selika Williams). Frederick Douglass intro­ duced the latter when she sang at the White House. Lucy often sat in on her husband’s meetings with native tribal delegations who called at the presidential mansion. She took an interest in efforts of the Paiutes to have the federal government transfer their tribe from Washington Territory to a new location in Oregon, and she helped fund a scholarship for a Paiute girl to attend the all‐black Hampton College in Virginia.

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Rutherford B. Hayes traveled more than any previous president, and Lucy often accompanied him on these trips and proved more popular than her husband in many places. This was especially true in the South, in the fall of 1877, when the couple visited Kentucky, Tennessee, Georgia, and Virginia. Southern whites viewed Hayes as a fraudulent president after the disputed 1876 election. Southern blacks, still over­ whelmingly republican, nursed hard feel­ ings about the fate of Reconstruction. Many democratic newspapers in the South (and in the North, for that matter) regu­ larly printed the word “fraud” across Hayes’s forehead any time his image appeared in their pages. Lucy, however, won praise everywhere the couple traveled. She was complimented for visiting former First Lady Sarah Polk at the latter’s home in Nashville on this trip, and the Richmond Dispatch reported that “Mrs. Hayes has won the admiration of the people wherever she has been in the recent tours of the President” (quoted in Geer, 1984: 166). In 1878 the president and the first lady traveled as far west as Michigan, Minnesota, and North Dakota. Two years later, in the late summer and autumn of 1880, they became the first presidential couple to visit the West Coast. Hayes had long before pledged to serve only one term in the White House, so he saw little reason to stay in Washington during the height of the 1880 presidential campaign. This western trip was “like taking a bow for a job well done, with people thronging to applaud him everywhere he went” (Hoogenboom, 1988: 208). The Hayeses visited San Francisco, the Yosemite Valley, and then proceeded north to Oregon, from which Lucy wrote to their daughter, Fanny: “What a beautiful country we have passed through—what magnificent scenery, grand majestic trees and of fruits the most luscious I have ever tasted” (Hoogenboom, 1988: 209). The first couple eventually made their way home, arriving in Fremont, Ohio on November 1.

This timely arrival gave the president the opportunity to cast his ballot for his friend and successor James A. Garfield on the following day. Rutherford and Lucy Hayes turned over the occupation of the White House to the Garfields on March 4, 1881. Hayes left Washington having impressed many with his even‐handed administration and having smoothed over some of the hard feelings that had existed when he, not Samuel Tilden, had been named the winner of the 1876 election. The couple looked forward to a long and enjoyable retirement at Spiegel Grove. Lucy, just forty‐nine, planned to spend her retirement serving as president of the Woman’s Home Missionary Society, a Methodist‐affiliated charity. But just eight years later, on June 22, 1889, Lucy suffered a stroke. Rutherford was by her side when she died three days later, on June 25. Her husband of over thirty‐six years was understandably devastated by her death, and he lived less than four more years himself. Rutherford B. Hayes died January 17, 1893. His last words were: “I know I am going where Lucy is.” Like her husband, Lucy Hayes has been treated as something of an afterthought by historians. Emily Apt Geer’s (1984) First Lady: The Life of Lucy Webb Hayes is already thirty years old. Geer portrays Lucy as intelligent, politically astute, and devoted to her husband and children. She also shows just how willing Lucy was to keep her own thoughts and opinions to herself in order to avoid causing her husband any political difficulties. In this respect, Lucy Hayes was very much a product of the age in which she lived. Historians writing about the Hayes presi­ dency have, by necessity, written here and there about Lucy Hayes. Ari Hoogenboom (1988), like Geer, portrays Lucy as a devoted life partner and political helpmate to her husband. His work, however, focuses on Rutherford, so his interpretation of Lucy’s life, interests, and politics is slim.



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Michael F. Holt and the late William H. Rehnquist, the former chief justice of the US Supreme Court, have both written on the disputed election of 1876. Neither makes much mention of how Lucy Hayes felt about the possibility of her husband’s losing the election, the horrible nicknames given to her husband both during and after the dispute, or the supposed deal to end Reconstruction that convinced the disputed states to allow their electoral votes to make Hayes president. Lucy Hayes was a fascinating woman, worthy of remembrance in her own right as well as because of her years as first lady. Sadly, historians have done little to further research and to interpret her life and influ­ ence in the thirteen decades since she left the White House. Lucretia Rudolph Garfield Of the three women this essay covers, more has been written about Lucretia Garfield than any other. This is curious, considering that her time as first lady covered a scant two hundred days, from March 4 to September 19, 1881. The woman her hus­ band called “Crete” became a national symbol of strength and family devotion during the long, hot summer of 1881, and she lived nearly forty more years after President James A. Garfield’s death at the relatively young age of forty‐nine. So brief was the Garfield presidency that, like William Henry Harrison’s one‐month administration in 1841, historians rarely even bother to con­ sider it when ranking presidents from best to worst. Lucretia Mason Rudolph was the oldest of four children born to Zeb and Arabella Rudolph. The future first lady entered the world in Garrettsville, Ohio on April 19, 1832, exactly five months after the man who would eventually become her husband and the twentieth president of the United States. Like James Garfield’s, her parents

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had both come to Ohio’s Western Reserve from other parts of the country. Her mother was born in 1810 in Hartford, Connecticut, and her father came from Virginia’s Shenandoah Valley. Lucretia would eventually have two brothers, John and Joseph, and a sister, Nellie. By all accounts, the Rudolph children had a relatively happy childhood. Lucretia and her sister learned from their mother to clean, sew, and cook; her brothers spent time with their father plowing and harvesting, retrieving water, and chopping firewood. Lucretia’s formative years were fairly typical of young women brought up on the frontier of Ohio’s Western Reserve. One aspect of Lucretia’s childhood that would have a profound influence on her and would later cause friction with her husband was her parents’ lack of physical displays of affection for their children. While Zeb and Arabella were certainly caring parents, they were reserved about showering Lucretia and her siblings with the regular hugs and kisses that James Garfield received from his mother Eliza. Garfield’s mother was wid­ owed at a young age—the future president was just eighteen months old at the time— and therefore turned her affections to her children. Later, when the young and gre­ garious Garfield would complain to his more reserved wife about her lack of physi­ cal emoting, she would reply in a letter, “I  do not think I was born for constant caresses, and surely no education of my childhood taught me to need them” (quoted in Shaw, 2004: 2). Indeed, Lucretia could not remember having ever received an embrace or kiss from her father. Atypical in a more positive way was the Rudolphs’ desire for their children to be educated. They sent Lucretia to the Garrettsville public grammar school for several years, then to the Geauga Seminary, a boarding school in nearby Chester, Ohio, where she studied such subjects as Greek, Latin, algebra, geography, and music. It was here, in 1848, that the sixteen‐year‐old Lucretia first made the acquaintance of

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James Abram Garfield, whom she described as “a shy lad with a shock of unruly hair … as awkward and untutored as he was dead in earnest and determined to learn any and every thing that came his way” (Shaw, 2004: 5). The initial contact between the future president and first lady of the United States was anything but love at first sight, since Lucretia was then more interested in another student, Albert Hall. She eventually ended her flirtation with Hall when she realized that he was not a Christian and, in her view, never would be. The Rudolphs elected not to send Lucretia back to the Geauga Seminary in 1850. That year her father helped found and build the Western Reserve Eclectic Institute in Hiram, which was closer to Garrettsville than the Geauga Seminary. The “Eclectic,” as it came to be known by most, was non‐sectarian but founded by the Protestant Disciples of Christ. There Lucretia studied French, literature, and other mainstays of a classical education; and she also received religious instruction. She helped organize a literary society and worked on a school magazine. She did not live at the school but went home to help her mother with the sewing, baking, and other chores, as she had done for most of her life until then. Lucretia had been a student at the Eclectic for about a year when James Garfield, also a  member of the Disciples of Christ, left the  Geauga Seminary for the Eclectic’s more  rigorous curriculum. He excelled there, eventually not only taking classes but also teaching them. The two surely recog­ nized each other from their overlapping time at the Seminary. Not until the autumn of 1853 or so, however, did Lucretia’s friends begin to notice that “Mr. Garfield is very particular in his attentions to you” (quoted in Shaw, 2004: 12). The cautious Garfield took the bold step of mailing Lucretia a letter while on a trip to Niagara Falls. She responded, and their romance commenced and flourished until July 1854,

when James left Hiram to attend Williams College in Massachusetts. Lucretia was far more prolific with her letter writing than Lucy Hayes, and she and James kept up a steady correspondence while he was at Williams and she finished her studies at the Eclectic—which would later make her the second first lady to possess a higher education—and started teaching in Ravenna, Ohio. However, this long separation (they did not see each other again until August 1855) was just the first of many the couple would endure over the next twenty years. To complicate matters further, back at Williams in December 1855 James met Rebecca Selleck, an outgoing, affectionate woman who was Lucretia’s polar opposite and who, to Lucretia’s consternation, would remain James’s friend for many years. Historian John Shaw specu­ lates that James and Rebecca likely consum­ mated their relationship at some point (Shaw, 2004: 29.) Lucretia met Rebecca when she travelled to Williams for James’s August 1856 commencement, and Garfield admitted to having a romance with her. This  naturally strained their relationship when they returned to Ohio and James went back to the Eclectic—where he eventually became a principal. Feeling scorned and angry that she had left her teaching job in Ravenna under the assumption that she and James would soon marry, Lucretia took a new position in Cleveland. The couple eventually began to write to  each other again, and the relationship rekindled. Finally, in the spring of 1858, Garfield proposed marriage and Lucretia, convinced of his love and genuineness, accepted. “We decided to try life in union before many months,” Garfield told his diary (quoted in Peskin, 1978: 55). As the wedding plans progressed, though, she began to feel distant from him again, and even sent him an invitation to their own wedding. They married in the backyard of her parents’ home in Hiram on November 11, 1858; it was a step that bonded them



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once more. In a letter written just a few months later, Lucretia told him: “Since our marriage, life has been a deep untold joy … and each day I feel all the tendrils of my heart twining more closely around you” (quoted in Shaw, 1994: 100). Soon, how­ ever, the disappointment and loneliness of regular separations would take their toll on the young couple’s relationship. In 1863, after five years of marriage, Lucretia would estimate that she and her husband had spent only twenty weeks together, owing to her husband’s budding political career and the onset of the Civil War. James Garfield, still the principal of the Eclectic, was elected to the Ohio State Senate in October 1859, as a Republican, and began traveling regularly to Columbus for legislative sessions. Lucretia gave birth to the first of seven children—a daughter they named Eliza, in honor of his mother—on July 3, 1860. Just a few weeks later Garfield took a vacation to Michigan’s Upper Peninsula, leaving Lucretia and their new­ born daughter home in Hiram. Lucretia was exhausted from caring for a newborn and in pain from an infected abscess in her breast from nursing the infant. She told her absent husband in a letter: “I want you here so much and sometimes when I am feeling so bad it seems so hard to have you away that I cry like a baby” (quoted in Shaw, 1994: 105). This was not the last time that Garfield would behave toward his wife in a manner that modern readers might regard as aloof at best and emotionally cruel at worst. The Civil War began in April 1861 and Garfield, long outspoken against slavery, entered the Union army in August 1861. He was given command of the 42nd Ohio Volunteer Infantry, a regiment he had helped raise and equip, in which Lucretia’s brother Joseph served. “Thoughts and feelings to which I can give no expression,” Lucretia wrote of her husband’s entering the army, “torture and bewilder me until I  grow faint and powerless” (quoted in Shaw, 2004: 40).

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Garfield had no military experience but learned quickly by reading every military text he could find, including histories of Napoleonic campaigns. He victoriously led the 42nd Ohio and other troops against a larger confederate force at the battle of Middle Creek, Kentucky on January 10, 1862, and soon after received promotion to  brigadier general and command of a brigade. Back home in Hiram, Lucretia wrote letters to her husband, whom she often addressed as “Jamie” and sometimes “Jimmie.” After falling ill with dysentery, James came home for a leave in August and September 1862, when they spent time together that, despite his illness, seemed almost like a honeymoon. During this period of convalescence, local Republicans nominated Garfield to stand for election to the US House of Representatives that autumn. The Garfields’ relationship improved during this period; but, once James returned to the army, he again became cool and distant. Lucretia, exasperated, wrote to him: “I shall not be forever telling you how much I love you when there is evidently no more desire on your part for it than present manifestations indicate” (quoted in Shaw, 2004: 42). He replied harshly to this letter, and she let the matter drop. Lucretia remained in Hiram when Garfield returned to the army in mid‐ September, being assigned first to Washington, DC and then to the position of chief of staff to the army of the Cumberland. Later that fall he was elected to the House of Representatives, but did not take his seat until December 1863. He remained in the army until that time, distinguishing himself at the September 1863 battle of Chickamauga. Just as he was to take his seat in the House, his daughter, Eliza, died of diphtheria. Both parents were heartbroken, but it seems that their shared sorrow brought them closer together. “We have come to be so much nearer and dearer to each other … our love has been made so

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perfect through this great suffering,” Lucretia wrote to him (quoted in Shaw, 1994: 193–4). The next several years were momentous ones for James Garfield’s congressional career, during which he lent his effective speaking abilities to the cause of Recon­ struction, sometimes as a Radical Republican. Though Lucretia often visited him in Washington, she still felt discon­ nected from him when they were apart. Early in his congressional career, he had a brief affair with a woman in New York City, Lucia Calhoun, which Lucretia learned about and to which he confessed. He claimed to be ready to resign from the House and come home if Lucretia wished him to do so. She forgave him, but insisted that he make an uncomfortable journey to New York to retrieve and destroy the letters he had written to Calhoun; apparently she was thinking of his potential for higher office. This seems to have been the extent of Garfield’s extramarital affairs, and, by the time he became president seventeen years later, he and Lucretia had a strong marriage, based on mutual respect and mutual interests. In 1869, tired of living apart so much of the year, James and Lucretia Garfield built a home at 13th and I Streets in Washington, DC. By this time their household contained the couple as well as their sons Harry and James, their daughter Mary (called “Mollie”), and Garfield’s mother Eliza. Three other sons—Irvin, Abram, and Edward—would follow over the next five years. The family traveled regularly to the New Jersey seashore in the summers during the 1870s, and James and Lucretia indulged their interests in literature by joining several Washington literary societies. They read Shakespeare to each other and to the chil­ dren, and regularly attended the theater. Lucretia often attended congressional ses­ sions, sitting in the gallery while her husband and other notable figures of the era spoke on the House floor. After years of turmoil

and separation, they had finally settled into a family life that both of them found reward­ ing and fulfilling. For the second time, they lost a child when Edward died of whooping cough shortly before his second birthday in 1876. This time, however, they were a much stronger couple than they had been when their firstborn, Eliza, died in 1863. The Garfields lived year‐round in Washington for four years. In October 1876, desiring a home away from Washington and back in the friendly familial and political boundaries of the Buckeye State, they purchased a farm in Mentor, Ohio, safely within the confines of Garfield’s congressional district. “So my darling,” James wrote to his wife, “you shall have a home and a cow.” Of the farm itself, he told his diary: “As a financial investment, I do not think it very wise; but as a means of securing a summer home, and teaching my boys to do farm work, I feel well about it” (quoted in Leech and Brown, 1978: 193). The family’s happy years continued as they began spending summers at the Mentor farm (Shaw, 2004: 77). As the couple worked to improve their farm, Garfield began to feel he had accom­ plished everything he could in the House of Representatives and sought Ohio’s open US Senate seat in January 1880. John Sherman, former Ohio senator and then secretary of the treasury under President Hayes, gave Garfield his support with the Ohio legislature for the Senate seat; in return, he expected Garfield’s support for his presidential bid later than year. James A. Garfield became US senator elect and planned to attend the June Republican National Convention in Chicago to work on Sherman’s behalf. Sherman’s prospects were low in Chicago; so, after making his dutiful best to  assist, Garfield turned his energies to assisting those  who fought against the renomina­ tion  of f­ormer President Ulysses S. Grant. Even as  Lucretia was busy with expanding and remodeling the house, she kept a



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close  eye on these political developments. When Garfield and his allies successfully blocked the Grant “boom,” Lucretia wrote to her husband that “I begin to be half afraid that the convention will give you the nomination … I don’t want you to have the nomination merely because no one else can get it, I want you to have it when the whole country calls for you” (quoted in Shaw, 1994: 375). She was prescient. On June 8, the Republican Party indeed nominated James A. Garfield to be its 1880 presidential candidate. “Dear wife,” he telegraphed from Chicago: “If the result meets your approval, I shall be content” (quoted in Shaw, 1994: 377). According to some sources, Lucretia Garfield was on her hands and knees, scrubbing the Mentor home’s kitchen floor, when she received the news of her husband’s nomination. Being the wife of a presidential candidate suddenly and unexpectedly thrust Lucretia Garfield, then forty‐eight, into the national spotlight. As had happened to Lucy Hayes before her, representatives of several differ­ ent groups and social movements began to contact her to speak out for their particular issue. “The mail has just come,” she wrote her husband just a week after his nomina­ tion. “Not so large as yesterday … Another from an ‘Evangelist’… inclosing an extract from some paper in which I am made to give your temperance principles” (quoted in Shaw, 1994: 378). But, if she was unpre­ pared to be questioned about her own or her husband’s views on issues, she was especially not ready for the throngs of peo­ ple that flocked to the Mentor property over the months of the campaign to see and hear her husband speak from the front porch of the house. This was the first ever instance of the “front porch” style of campaigning, which became relatively common over the next few decades. James often invited visitors or reporters into the home, where Lucretia politely greeted them with what she called a “standing refreshment”: a glass of water or lemonade, but no chair, so they would be

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less likely overstay their welcome. Busy with managing the home and the children, Lucretia may be forgiven for not wanting too many guests in the house for too long a period. On November 2, 1880, James A. Garfield was elected as the twentieth president of the United States. His popular vote margin over Democrat Winfield Scott Hancock was razor‐thin—about 7,300 votes of the mil­ lions cast. In the Electoral College, how­ ever, the result was for more decisive: 214 for Garfield and just 155 for Hancock. The Garfields set to work, getting ready to move into the White House. Lucretia made a secret journey to New York to shop for new dresses, using the alias “Mrs. Greenfield” while there. The family arrived in Washington on March 1, 1881, and Garfield took the oath of office on March 4. The new first lady described the scene as her husband deliv­ ered his inaugural address, then given before the swearing of the presidential oath: “After a short pause the President elect stood out before the people and with the inspiration of the time and the occasion lifting him up into his fullest grandeur, he became … almost superhuman” (quoted in Shaw, 2004: 90). Once settled in the White House, the Garfields faced questions about the issue of temperance, just like their predecessors had. James and Lucretia Garfield had never been even moderate drinkers, but they did not see the need to continue the ban on wine at White House dinners. To Lucretia, “drink­ ing wine at a respectable dinner was so small a factor in bringing about the intemperance of the country” (Shaw, 2004: 94). Like Lucy Hayes, she was pestered by temperance leaders who encouraged her to continue the Hayes ban on alcohol and who hoped she would become the public face of their move­ ment. She declined to do both. After less than two months in the White House, before she even had time to order new presidential china, Lucretia fell deathly

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ill with malaria, a common malady in a city built atop a swamp. She lay sick in the White House for weeks, and her husband tried to balance his demanding executive duties with caring for her, though he found it “hard to think of business with any shadow hanging over the life of my life” (quoted in Ackerman, 2003: 332). One friend, Gettysburg hero Joshua Lawrence Chamberlain, urged Garfield to bring her to his home state of Maine, but she eventually began to recover, and her improvement, along with the presi­ dent’s political victory over the obstructionist New York Senator Roscoe Conkling, led to a better mood all around the Executive Mansion as May turned to June. It was decided that Lucretia would travel to the New Jersey shore to complete her recovery in the less humid, less stagnant air of the seaside. In late June the president traveled to Elberon, New Jersey to visit the first lady; he then returned to Washington on June 27 to wrap up some work before heading to Williams College for a speech. After that engagement the Garfields were going on vacation, first to Maine and eventually back to Ohio, for the first return trip to their Mentor farm since Garfield assumed the presidency. The president was due to pick up Lucretia in New Jersey and then head north on the morning of Saturday, July 2. The first lady was packing luggage in her hotel room that morning when long‐time presidential friend and aide David Swaim knocked on her door to deliver a telegram. It read: “The president wishes me to say to you from him that he has been seriously hurt—how seriously he cannot yet say. He is himself and hopes you will come to him soon. He sends his love to you.” Lucretia got what information she could from Swaim and immediately traveled back to Washington, where she found her husband lying in the White House with a bullet fired by Charles J. Guiteau lodged in his back. Garfield began to talk to her about plans for the children in the event of his death, but Lucretia stopped him, saying, “I am

here to nurse you back to life. Please do not speak again of death” (quoted in Millard, 2011: 149). For the next two and a half months, Lucretia rarely left her husband’s bedside as doctors poked, prodded, and slowly killed him by introducing massive infection into his body through dirty hands and instruments. While the president’s care was managed— or mismanaged—by Dr. D. Willard Bliss, Lucretia insisted that two doctors she knew should have a hand in her husband’s care. One of them was Dr. Susan Ann Edson, one of the nation’s first female doctors and Lucretia’s personal physician. The other was Doctor Silas Boynton, a young first cousin of the president’s. Ultimately it mattered little. Garfield slowly wasted away from infection, losing almost one hundred pounds from his nor­ mally tall, bulky frame. In early September he was moved back to the New Jersey shore as his doctors, knowing that the cause was all but lost, hoped that the sea air would prove as restorative for bullet wounds and blood poisoning as for malaria. It did not, and President James A. Garfield died there on September 19, 1881, exactly two months shy of this fiftieth birthday and after just two hundred days of being the president of the United States. “Oh, why am I made to suf­ fer this cruel wrong!” Lucretia cried when the doctors pronounced him dead. Lucretia Rudolph Garfield, also forty‐nine, was now a widow with five young children. She buried her husband in Cleveland on September 26 and moved her family back to the Mentor farm. She spent the rest of her life caring for her children, improving the Mentor farm, and visiting children and grandchildren, supported by a generous charitable fund from public donations after her husband’s death. She also began developing Garfield’s legacy. In 1885– 1886 she had a large, beautiful memorial library built onto the back of the farm house. There she preserved not only her husband’s book collection, but also the



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letters and papers of his public career, and there was born the idea of the presidential library. “I somehow feel that the house here is a much more interesting monument to your father’s memory,” she wrote son Abram on November 13, 1892, “than anything that can be built merely as a monument, and I want it to be worthy of him” (quoted in Gray, 2012). Lucretia Rudolph Garfield died on March 13, 1918, about five weeks before her eighty‐sixth birthday and almost thirty‐ seven years after her husband’s death. “I have had but one hobby,” she had written back in 1887, “to make home the dearest place in the world” (National Park Service, 1998). She surely succeeded; her daughter Mollie once said of Lucretia to a friend who was marveling at how well adjusted the Garfield children were despite the great tragedy of their father’s death: “Ah, but you do not appreciate what a mother they have; she brought them up through the most difficult period of their lives alone. She has been a wonderfully wise woman” (Shaw, 2004: 115). Lucretia Garfield has been studied and written about significantly more than her predecessor, Lucy Hayes. Her time as first lady was far shorter, but her life in total was far longer. However, like Mrs. Hayes, Mrs. Garfield has been primarily inter­ preted by historians who were actually writing about her husband. Yet her role as first lady, even if brief, made important contributions to those who followed her in the post; her legacy building, in particular, was emulated by Edith Wilson and Nancy Reagan. John Shaw explored Mrs. Garfield’s life in his biography of her, Lucretia (Shaw, 2004). Formerly a professor at Hiram College, successor to the Western Reserve Eclectic Institute, Shaw treats Lucretia fairly, if not glowingly. In his book Lucretia is fiercely intelligent and devoted to her family. She endures emotional cruelty from James Garfield, but she remains loyal to him and

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convinced that he is destined for greatness. After his untimely and unnecessary death, she devotes herself to preserving his mem­ ory. Shaw also edited Crete and James: Personal Letters of Lucretia and James Garfield (Shaw, 1994). The letters them­ selves, as well as Shaw’s insights, allow the reader to really “get to know” James and Lucretia. This work is critical to an under­ standing of the Garfields’ personalities, inner thoughts and emotions, and compli­ cated but ultimately devoted, loving relationship. Several excellent biographies of James A.  Garfield necessarily deal with Lucretia, and all portray her as the marriage’s steady hand. The authoritative biography is still Allan Peskin’s (1978) remarkably insightful, if dense and detailed, Garfield. The same year also brought Margaret Leech and Harry J. Brown’s (1978) fine The Garfield Orbit: The Life of President James A. Garfield. More recently, Kenneth J. Ackerman’s Dark Horse: The Surprise Election and Political Murder of President James A. Garfield (2003) provides a compelling interpretation of Lucretia’s role in Garfield’s 1880 presi­ dential campaign and of her thoughts on such political luminaries as James G. Blaine, Roscoe Conkling, and others. Candice Millard’s (2011) Destiny of the Republic: A Tale of Madness, Medicine and the Murder of a President focuses on the assassination and sympathetically demonstrates Lucretia’s devotion to her wounded husband and ded­ ication to finding the best possible medical care for him. The published volumes of The  Diary of James A. Garfield, edited by Harry J. Brown and Frederick D. Williams, are critical to understanding James Garfield’s thoughts about his wife and myriad other subjects. Lucretia Garfield left behind some diary entries and thousands of letters to her hus­ band and others. All of this primary source material makes her one of the many first ladies long overdue for a new full‐length biography.

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Mary Arthur McElroy Chester Alan Arthur became the twenty‐ first president of the United States upon James A. Garfield’s death. Not since James Buchanan’s 1857–1861 stay in the White House had an unmarried president resided there. While Buchanan was a lifelong bach­ elor, Arthur was a widower. Ellen Herndon Arthur, whom the future president married in 1859, died at the age of forty‐two, on January 12, 1880, just five months before Chester A. Arthur became the surprise vice presidential nominee on the ticket with Garfield, himself a surprise presidential nominee. Her death left Arthur a grieving widower and the single father to their two children. Upon becoming president, for over a year, Arthur had no one in the White House to serve as a surrogate first lady. In January 1883 he asked his youngest sister, Mary Arthur McElroy, to come from her Albany home to the White House as his “hostess” for the annual social season, in order to help plan White House social functions and also care for his young daughter Nellie. Mary, forty‐one years old at the time, agreed. “When I went to it,” she later recalled, “I was absolutely unfamiliar with the customs and formalities” (quoted in Reeves, 1975: 269). Mary Arthur, often called “Molly,” was born in Greenwich, New York on July 5, 1841. She was nearly twelve years younger than her brother Chester and had attended the Emma Willard Seminary in Troy, New York in preparation for a career as a teacher. It is not clear whether she ever pursued this vocation, though a July 25, 1883 article in The Washington Post suggested that she had once taught at a private school in Edgecombe County, North Carolina. Little else is known about her early life. Mary Arthur was just nineteen years old when she married John E. McElroy, a busi­ nessman and insurance executive, on June 13, 1861. This union eventually produced two sons and two daughters. In addition to

raising her own family, Mary helped care for her brother’s children after Ellen Arthur’s death in early 1880. Mary encouraged Chester’s daughter Nellie to pursue music in honor of her mother, who had loved music and been an accomplished singer. Her close relationship with Nellie was a deter­ mining factor in President Arthur’s decision to bring her to the White House. Mary Arthur McElroy’s first appearance as her brother’s social planner was at a January 24, 1883 diplomatic corps dinner, where she sat across the table from the president and beside the ambassador from Haiti. She received guests at the White House together with her brother on January 26 and hosted her own first reception on the following day. Soon she was hosting public receptions every Saturday. Mary’s status as the sister, not the wife, of  the president was of great interest to newspapers. “Now that [she] seems better acquainted, Mrs. McElroy seems to enjoy society greatly and shows her talent for ready conversation,” reported The Washington Post just a month after her arrival in Washington (quoted in National First Ladies Library, 2014a). Another paper reported that she “resembles the President only about the eyes … she has a dainty, petite figure, being both short and slight, and is pale as if  she did not enjoy the best of health” (quoted in National First Ladies Library, 2014a). When Mary prepared to travel back to Albany at the end of the social season that March, President Arthur hosted a farewell dinner in her honor. She returned to the White House as hostess, to greet dignitaries and the public on New Year’s Day 1884. Mary Arthur McElroy proved very popular in Washington society, and the Arthur White House had an excellent reputation for hospitality under her watchful eye. “In  various ways,” writes historian George Frederick Howe, “she made her formal receptions less stilted and established a per­ sonal relationship with her guests” (Howe, 1957: 172). So popular and crowded were



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her receptions that Civil War hero General Philip H. Sheridan and his wife once sup­ posedly had to enter the White House by climbing through a window! The New York Times reported that “[w]hat we may call the official hospitality of President Arthur’s administration is without a flaw” (quoted in Reeves, 1975: 351). Like many of her predecessors, Mary was careful to avoid saying or doing anything that would cause the president political difficulty. However, like Lucy Hayes and Lucretia Garfield before her, she was lobbied by temperance advocates, including the Women’s Christian Temperance Union. She politely refused to ban alcohol from the White House; and, even if she had not refused, it is highly unlikely that the exceedingly social President Arthur would have agreed to such a prohibition. Mary Arthur McElroy hosted her last public White House reception in in early 1885, as her brother was preparing to hand over the presidency to Grover Cleveland. Realizing that an unprecedented social era was ending, over three thousand people showed up, to take advantage of Mary’s hospitality one last time. Before leaving Washington she formed a friendly relation­ ship with Rose Elizabeth Cleveland, sister of the bachelor President Elect Cleveland and one who, like Mary just a few years before, was coming to Washington to serve as White House hostess for her unmarried brother. This is the only instance in American history of one presidential sister succeeding another in the role normally reserved for the presi­ dent’s wife. In 1889 Mary returned to the White House as guest of honor at a luncheon hosted by Frances Cleveland, President Cleveland’s young new wife. When Chester A. Arthur died in November 1886, Mary Arthur McElroy made the funeral arrangements, serving in the role normally reserved for a presidential widow. She and her husband also became the legal  guardians of her niece, Nellie, with whom she had remained close after Arthur’s

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presidency. Always committed to civil rights for African Americans, the McElroys hosted Booker T. Washington in their home in June 1900, when he went to Albany to speak there. Despite her support for black civil and political rights, Mary was vocally opposed to women’s suffrage. Mary resided in Albany for the rest of her life. She died at the age of seventy‐six, on January 8, 1917. She was interred in the Albany Rural Cemetery, which also contains the remains of her presidential brother and her sister‐in‐law Ellen, whose early death made Mary’s tenure as surrogate first lady of the United States possible. Hardly any scholarship exists on Mary Arthur McElroy, and there is no stand‐alone biography of her. Even the few historians who have written about President Chester A. Arthur, including Thomas C. Reeves (1975) and Zachary Karabell (2004), barely mention her. The lack of primary source material is partly to blame for this, as is the fact that McElroy spent only the few months of the annual social season in the White House during her brother’s presidency. She was not a full‐time first lady and therefore left behind little for scholars to interpret. Even so, Mary Arthur McElroy was crit­ ically important to her brother, who never expected to rise as high as the presidency but did so under very difficult circum­ stances. Many initially suspected that Arthur was part of a republican plot engineered by  the Stalwarts to murder Garfield. In addition, his wife had died suddenly and very young, just five months before Arthur was placed on Garfield’s 1880 ticket. Having his sister there as a friend, confidante, and social hostess surely eased Arthur’s burden to some degree. Future historians should do additional research to help us understand more about Mary Arthur McElroy’s own life and the important role she played in her brother’s administration. She, along with Lucy Hayes and Lucretia Garfield, definitely deserves more scholarly attention.

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References Ackerman, K. D. 2003. Dark Horse: The Surprise Election and Political Murder of President James A. Garfield. New York: Carroll & Graf. Brown, H. J., and F. D. Williams, eds. 1981. The Diary of James A. Garfield, vols. 1–4. East Lansing: Michigan State University Press. Geer, E. A. 1984. First Lady: The Life of Lucy Webb Hayes. Fremont, OH: Rutherford B. Hayes Presidential Center. Gray, S. 2012. “Welcome to the Garfield Observer!” The Blog of James A. Garfield National Historic Site, July 2. https://garfieldnps.wordpress. com/2012/07/02/welcome‐to‐the‐garfield‐ observer (accessed December 1, 2015). Harris, B. 2005. The First Ladies Fact Book. New York: Black Dog and Leventhal. Hoogenboom, A. 1988. The Presidency of Rutherford B. Hayes. Lawrence: University Press of Kansas. Howe, G. F. 1957. Chester A. Arthur: A Quarter‐Century of Machine Politics. New York: Frederick Ungar. Karabell, Z. 2004. Chester Alan Arthur. New York: Henry Holt. Leech, M., and H. J. Brown. 1978. The Garfield Orbit: The Life of President James A. Garfield. New York: Harper & Row. Millard, C. 2011. The Destiny of the Republic: A Tale of Madness, Medicine and the Murder of a President. New York: Doubleday. National First Ladies Library 2014a. “First Lady Biography: Ellen Arthur and Mary ‘Molly’

Arthur McElroy.” http://www.firstladies. org/biographies/firstladies.aspx?biography= 22 (accessed July 7, 2014). National First Ladies Library. 2014b. “First Lady Biography: Lucretia Garfield.” http://www. firstladies.org/biographies/firstladies. aspx?biography=21 (accessed July 7, 2014). National First Ladies Library. 2014c. “First Lady  Biography: Lucy Hayes.” http://www. firstladies.org/biographies/firstladies.aspx? biography=20 (accessed July 7, 2014). National Park Service. 1998. James A. Garfield National Historic Site: Exhibit Text. Mentor, OH: National Park Service. Peskin, A. 1978. Garfield. Kent, OH: Kent State University Press. Peskin, A. 2004. “James Abram Garfield.” In Presidential Leadership: Rating the Best and Worst in the White House, edited by James Taranto and Leonard Leo, 104–106. New York: Wall Street Journal Books. Reeves, T. C. 1975. Gentleman Boss: The Life of Chester Alan Arthur. Newtown, CT: American Political Biography Press. Shaw, J., ed. 1994. Crete and James: Personal Letters of Lucretia and James Garfield. East Lansing: Michigan State University Press. Shaw, J. 2004. Lucretia. A Volume in the Presidential Wives Series. New York: Nova History. Trefousse, H. L. 2002. Rutherford B. Hayes. New York: Henry Holt. Truman, M. 1995. First Ladies. New York: Random House.

Chapter Sixteen

Rose Cleveland, Frances Cleveland, Caroline Harrison, Mary McKee Merry Ellen Scofield

For four years, the nation enjoyed the antics of President Benjamin Harrison’s grandson, “Baby” McKee. Images of the child wearing a military hat or driving his goat cart across White House grounds had brightened an otherwise quiet and often melancholy administration. Now, on March 4, 1893, the boy, almost six and no longer a baby, “surrender[ed] the Lawn” to the new “Queen of the day,” little Ruth Cleveland (Lincoln, 1893). Ruth’s father had taken back the presidency after a four‐year absence, and Benjamin “Baby” McKee’s grandfather was headed back to Indiana. For the Harrison–McKee family, vacating the White House represented political defeat amid personal sadness. First Lady Caroline Scott Harrison had died of tuberculosis the previous October, only weeks before the blow of Cleveland’s victory, and her father, John Witherspoon Scott, who lived at the executive mansion, died a month later. Young Benjamin had watched as his mother, Mary Harrison McKee, tended to her father’s grief while shouldering the duties of White House mistress during the family’s last months in Washington. Capital society had mourned alongside the presidential family, but, as the Harrison

clan packed for home, the city looked forward to the new administration and to a return to normalcy. The young and immensely popular Frank Cleveland was coming back to the White House, just as she had promised four years earlier, and Washington was thrilled. This time Mrs. Cleveland arrived with seventeen‐month‐ old baby Ruth in tow and a second daughter on the way. As it turned out, she also brought with her four full years of domestic stability, not seen in the executive mansion since the Hayes administration. Lucretia Garfield’s tenure had ended abruptly with her husband’s assassination. Mary Arthur McElroy had served unofficially and only during the winter social seasons. Caroline Harrison would not live to finish out her husband’s four‐year term. The first Cleveland administration had also witnessed two White House mistresses. The second was Frances Folsom Cleveland, who married President Cleveland in 1886. The first was Grover Cleveland’s sister, Rose. This chapter is based on primary material from historical newspaper archives and collections, which for reasons of space and readability are given very selectively in References.

A Companion to First Ladies, First Edition. Edited by Katherine A. S. Sibley. © 2016 John Wiley & Sons, Inc. Published 2016 by John Wiley & Sons, Inc.

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Rose Elizabeth Cleveland On a mild and sunny March 4, 1885, forty‐ seven‐year‐old bachelor Stephen Grover Cleveland stood on the East Portico of the Capitol Building and solemnly swore to “faithfully execute the Office of President of the United States.” Seated among the ­hundreds of dignitaries crowded onto the presidential stand was Rose Elizabeth Cleveland. The youngest of nine Cleveland children, she had been chosen by her brother to serve as his official hostess. She came with experience, having performed a similar role in Albany, where Grover Cleveland had served over the past two years as New York governor. Known publicly as Rose and by the family as Libbie, she was educated and academic, with the same intelligent face and dignified bearing as her brother. The New Haven Evening Register of March 10, 1885 reported that Rose Cleveland had declined a position as lecturer at a New York City seminary in order to assist her brother in Albany. Before that she had taught at a girls’ school in Muncy, Pennsylvania, both for monetary reasons and from a spirit of independence. Cleveland would become a published author within months of entering the White House and was the first to admit that she loved books over people. Her working experience, her scholarly nature, and her literary ambition were unusual attributes for a first lady, but Rose Cleveland also brought poise and a honed set of social skills to her new role. The Baltimore Sun of March 9, 1885 applauded her for “remarkable tact in recognizing faces and remembering names” and for her commitment to responsibilities. The Evening Register concurred. On March 7 it informed its readers that, before she left Albany, Miss Cleveland had attended fourteen different entertainments in five days “and remembered everybody she met.” Washington society expected Rose Cleveland to fulfill her obligations with honor; and she did not disappoint. During

what turned out to be fifteen months of service, she pleased the city with her White House entertainments, her commitment to church, and her kind heart (Gordon, 1889: 437). The Christian Advocate of September 12, 1912 recollected the former first lady’s sympathetic treatment toward a tired Washington sales clerk. White House doorkeeper Thomas F. Pendel claimed he would never forget Miss Cleveland’s kindness in sending a weekly box of freshly cut flowers to his sick daughter, “up to a few days before she died” (Pendel, 1902: 132). A kind heart, though, did not make for a retiring personality. Columnist Frank Carpenter, writing in 1885, heard that Rose Cleveland was a rather “sharp‐tongued young lady with a predisposition to Woman’s Rights” (Carpenter, 1960: 32). She was a woman, wrote Michigan’s Owosso American on March 4, 1885, “noted for [her] great firmness of character.” As first lady, she lent her name to the capital’s newly formed Women’s Anthropological Society, created to educate women in the investigative sciences and to encourage the acceptance of female scientists. As a former first lady, she used her prominence to publicly chastise such fashion dictates as corsets, bustles, and high‐heeled shoes for their negative effect on women’s health and comfort (Cleveland, 1887). Then, in late 1909, Rose Cleveland gave public support to the passage of a federal suffrage amendment when she signed the national suffrage petition (Salenius, 2014: 45). Rose Cleveland understood from the start that her days as White House mistress were limited. Even before the 1885 inauguration, Grover Cleveland had been courting young Frances Folsom. With the June 2, 1886 wedding in the White House Blue Room, Rose Cleveland’s tenure ended. She had utilized her short time in the executive mansion well, not only by promoting her  political causes but also by advancing her writing career. Not long after she had moved in, Funk & Wagnalls published her



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maiden book, George Eliot’s Poetry, and Other Studies, which unabashedly advertised its author as “sister of President Cleveland, (Mistress of the White House)” in The Publishers’ Weekly of July 4, 1885. The book received gentle reviews that noted Cleveland’s enthusiasm and her feminine style, and earned its author, according to Harry Thurston Peck, more than $25,000 in royalties (Peck, 1905: 61). The next year Cleveland published a novel and wrote the introduction to a volume of advice ­literature, both of which made use of her famous name on their title pages. Another story, “Robin Adair,” appeared as a serial in Godey’s Lady Magazine in 1887. That piece combined a love story with comments on “the hideous deformities” caused by “Dame Fashion,” prompting one reviewer to ­ question the wisdom of Rose Cleveland’s “venturing into romance” (Anonymous, 1887: 116). Within a month of the White House ­wedding, Cleveland was offered a position as executive editor of Literary Life, a Chicago‐based magazine in questionable financial condition. Although the publisher agreed not to exploit the Cleveland name, the president was suspicious. He protested the appointment, and then, according to the New York Times of June 28, 1886, offered his sister a yearly stipend of $6,000 if she would decline. According to the Washington Post of November 8, 1886, Rose Cleveland chose to accept the position against her brother’s wishes, but resigned after a few months over what she described as policy disputes with the magazine’s publisher, A. P. Elder. On June 24, 1886, the San Jose Daily News published a rumor that Rose Cleveland was engaged to “a prominent Congressman.” The rumor was false. Rose Cleveland was not engaged, although she would be in love by the winter of 1889–1890. That is when she met Evangeline Mars Simpson. The romance, documented in a series of passionate letters, began in Florida, where both Cleveland and Simpson were wintering, and

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ended sometime before October 1896, when Simpson married Henry Benjamin Whipple. Evangeline had been twenty‐five when she married her first husband, seventy‐ three‐year‐old multimillionaire Michael Simpson (Hardy, 2007: 190). Her second husband, Episcopalian Bishop Whipple, was seventy‐four to her thirty‐six years (2007: 191). The marriage announcement in the Charleston News and Courier described the new Mrs. Whipple as “fascinating enough to capture any man,” and snidely titled its piece “Old Men Her Favorite” (Anonymous, 1886b). Although the article also mentioned that “Rose Cleveland, sister of the president” had been a favored guest at Simpson’s Wayland, Massachusetts estate, there were no public hints of anything other than friendship. Bishop Whipple died in 1901. By 1910 Evangeline Simpson Whipple and the former first lady had reconnected and were residing together in Bagni di Lucca, Italy, where they later organized aid for the war‐ torn country. On November 22, 1918 Cleveland fell victim to the Spanish influenza pandemic. Evangeline Whipple lived another twelve years, during which time she wrote a book on Tuscany dedicated to her “beloved friend of many years, Rose Elizabeth Cleveland” (Whipple, 1928). The two women are buried side by side at the English Cemetery in Bagni di Lucca. The love letters between Whipple and Cleveland are preserved at the Minnesota Historical Society as part of the Whipple– Scandrett collection, a subset of a larger collection on Minnesota’s first Episcopal bishop, Henry Benjamin Whipple. Although the society’s library now lists the correspondence of “Rose Elizabeth Cleveland to Whipple’s second wife, Evangeline Simpson” in its public catalog, that was not true before 1978. In the late 1970s the Gay Task Force of the American Library Association received a tip that the historical society’s nine‐box Whipple–Scandrett collection contained “a sealed box (no. 10).” According to the

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tipster, that tenth box held a series of letters establishing “a lesbian relationship” between President Cleveland’s baby sister and Reverend Whipple’s future wife. The Gay Task Force made enquiries, and, after what historian Jonathan Ned Katz described as “several tactfully worded letters,” the box  was properly catalogued (all quoted in Katz, 1989). Most of the press during Rose Cleveland’s lifetime never hinted at her sexual orientation, although there were some unbecoming published comments. She was accused, for example, of being mannish, primarily because of her progressive views and her short hair. Harry Thurston Peck, writing thirteen years before Rose Cleveland’s death, portrayed her as having “hair cropped like a man’s and … a touch of masculine decision in her bearing” (Peck, 1905: 60). An 1888 issue of The Now and Then managed to both exploit rumors of Rose Cleveland’s masculinity and defend her (Gernerd, 1888; see also Yurchack, 1994: 19). Reporting on Cleveland’s tenure as a schoolteacher in Pennsylvania, the magazine repeated rumors of Miss Cleveland’s unpopularity among students, who called her “Jake.” It then chastised the reports. Simply because “she wore her hair short, sometimes walked the streets with an umbrella under her arm, held her head, and could, and always did, take care of herself,” there was no reason, the periodical insisted, to demean such a fine and progressive woman, who might have made a better president than her brother (Gernerd, 1888: 6–7; Yurchak, 1994: 21). Photographs of Rose Cleveland show an attractive woman with regular features, a slender, sturdy physique, and hair more often described by contemporaries as jaunty rather than manly. Unfortunately the public rarely had access to her image, at least ­during her year as first lady. The newly inaugurated president demanded privacy, and this included denying the press photographs of his sister. If one wanted a likeness of Rose

Cleveland, quipped the Trenton Evening News of July 19, 1885, he or she would have to pay out the $1.50 to buy her book of essays. It was even considered quite a coup when the same newspaper was able to obtain a sketch of Rose Cleveland as she sat at church, in “devout thought … and wearing her latest new bonnet” (Graybell, 1885: 3). Grover Cleveland’s insistence on personal privacy continued throughout his two administrations. It was prompted, at least in part, by his distaste for “the scandalous press and thoughtful people” who, during Cleveland’s first presidential campaign, had belittled his good name and pursued the “absent and defenceless girl,” by whom he had allegedly fathered an illegitimate child (Cleveland, 1933: 106). Because of that attitude, no photographs were taken at his wedding ceremony and Cleveland never encouraged photographs of his children. Keeping his bride out of the public eye, however, was fruitless. The new Mrs. Cleveland became the delight of Washington society and a national sensation. Her image was widely distributed and, in a time when laws did not prevent it, her name and face were lent without her permission to innumerable advertisers. The young Frank Cleveland, it seemed, was especially fond of everything, from Merrick Thread (“The Thread that Binds the Union”) to Sulphur Bitters. Frances Folsom Cleveland Frances Cleveland was born in 1864, baptized Frances Clara Folsom, and nicknamed Frank. Her relationship with Grover Cleveland extended back to her infancy in Buffalo, New York, where her father and Cleveland had been friends and law partners. When a carriage accident took the life of Oscar Folsom in 1875, Cleveland became executor of the estate and got closely involved in the future well‐being of both Frances and her mother, Emma Harmon



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Folsom. At what time Cleveland’s interest in Frank Folsom became more romantic than paternal is a matter of minor scholarly debate. Biographer Annette Dunlap hinted at a date as early as 1875, when Frank Folsom was eleven years old (Dunlap, 2009: 14). Historian Rebecca Edwards argued that the “romantic interest” was an 1884 political strategy (Edwards, 1997: 62–63), aimed at preventing in the future the type of scandal that Cleveland’s first presidential campaign had suffered when the press discovered that he might have fathered an illegitimate son. The scandal was based on the 1874 birth of Oscar Folsom Cleveland to Maria Halpin, who named Grover Cleveland as the boy’s father. At the time, the unwed Halpin lived in Buffalo, where Cleveland practiced law with Frank Folsom’s father. Cleveland accepted financial responsibility for the child, who was later adopted into a “respectable family” (Graff, 2002: 61). He also acknowledged the possibility of his paternity, although it has been argued that Cleveland accepted the blame either because he was the only bachelor among the several men acquainted with Halpin or because his married law partner, Oscar Folsom, had fathered the baby (Brodsky, 2000: 89–90). The Republican Party learned of the incident during the 1884 Blaine–Cleveland ­ presidential race and used it to smear then Governor Cleveland’s reputation. Although the damage was softened by Cleveland’s “forthright” acknowledgment of the situation, the candidate suffered months of bad press and humiliation (Graff, 2002: 61). Edwards’s argument that Cleveland’s 1886 marriage was in part a “strategy for reelection” stands alone, although his wife’s popularity with the public is undeniable (Edwards, 1997: 63). Perhaps, if the marriage had secured an immediate second term for Cleveland, the theory would hold more weight. Whatever the case, shortly after her June 1885 graduation from Wells College, Folsom received President Cleveland’s

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written marriage proposal. She accepted and it was decided that the wedding would be held after she, her mother, and a cousin returned from a European tour. Everyone was sworn to secrecy, but rumors followed the Folsom women to the continent. By the time Frances Folsom was trousseau‐­shopping in Paris, the public was assured that a wedding was afoot, even without official ­ confirmation (Anonymous, 1886a). The biggest surprise seemed to be that the bride‐ to‐be was the daughter, and not her mother. Any speculation on a merging of the Folsom– Cleveland families had usually foreseen widow Emma Harmon Folsom as the next first lady, an assumption Cleveland found insulting. “I don’t see why,” he grumbled, “the papers keep marrying me to old ladies” and not their daughters—a comment that, if true, one hopes did not get back to mother Folsom (McElroy, 1923: 184). The couple tentatively planned to hold the wedding at the farm of Colonel John Folsom, the bride’s grandfather, but his death on May 19, 1886, while the ladies were still in Europe, altered the plans. If it were agreeable, Cleveland wrote to his bride, they would have a quiet ceremony at the executive mansion. With Folsom’s approval, the couple married that June in what still stands as the only White House wedding of an incumbent president. The bride was twenty‐one; the groom, forty‐nine. Thirty‐one guests witnessed the marriage in the Blue Room, transformed for the occasion with a flood of scarlet begonias and Jacqueminot roses furnished from the mansion greenhouse (Dunlap, 2009: 10). The bride wore a gown of ivory silk, embellished with orange blossoms. Although no photographs were released to the press and none was taken of the nuptials, Frances Folsom posed in her gown before the wedding. Those images reveal a pensive young woman with a healthy, creamy complexion, dark features, and a small waist. She exemplified the Gilded Age ideal. Any presidential bride would have sparked public

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curiosity; in Frances Folsom Cleveland’s case, it was a mania. Frances Cleveland did not have her husband’s tortuous history with the press or his bias. She allowed the release of photographs and sometimes used the press to her advantage. Twelve days after her wedding, she wrote to Seneca Falls photographer J. E. Hale authorizing him to sell any of the images he had taken of her. She then added demurely that she trusted he would release “only the best ones” (Fayetteville Free Library, 2014). In 1888 she used the press to dispel a rumor that Cleveland was abusive. Replying to a letter that asked about its truth, and knowing that her response would surface in the newspapers, the first lady named outright the minister who had spread the rumor, and then wrote that she only hoped for other women, a husband “as kind, as attentive, considerate and affectionate” as was her own (Anonymous, 1888c). Her popularity and the availability of her image combined to create a national sensation. Advertisers and businesspeople saw the potential and began using her name and her face to promote their goods, all without her consent. In 1888 the House attempted to rectify the situation through a bill outlawing the unauthorized employment of “the likeness or representation of any [American] female living or dead” (Lane, 2009: 52). When the bill failed to pass, the Clevelands were left with no recourse except to make personal appeals. In 1893, for example, Cleveland wrote to an Albany tailor scolding him for introducing “the name of Mrs. Cleveland in a most indecent way,” although what constituted the indecency went unnamed (Cleveland, 1933: 321). More legitimately, Frances Cleveland influenced sales through her personal choice of products. The American Bookseller magazine reported in 1888 that Mrs. Cleveland’s decision to write her letters on specially designed, domestically produced linen paper had increased the popularity of American “papeteries.” The Powers Paper Company,

which manufactured her stationery, was “obliged … to run their mills overtime to meet the extra demand” (Anonymous, 1888d). Her choice of attire also stimulated sales. Young women, in particular, imitated her style after reading detailed accounts of her wardrobe in magazines and newspapers. She was so influential that the Women’s Christian Temperance Union requested, unsuccessfully, that the first lady give up her collection of bare‐shouldered gowns, which they feared set a poor example (Carpenter, 1960: 48). On July 16, 1888, the Atlanta Constitution reported that Frances Cleveland had given up her bustle. Sales of the item decreased around the country and newspapers weighed in the good and bad aspects of her decision. The Good Health magazine out of Battle Creek, Michigan cheered the first lady in its September 1888 issue (Anonymous, 1888b), just as Frank Leslie’s Illustrated Newspaper had done a few months earlier (Anonymous, 1888a). During that same summer, though, the Lewiston Saturday Journal in Maine declared on July 14 that “Mrs. Cleveland’s No‐Bustle Innovation Not Popular” and Pennsylvania’s Reading Eagle of August 12 questioned her right to change fashion. The Atlanta Constitution article was a hoax. Frank Cleveland had not given up the bustle and was only alerted to the uproar while she was out bustle‐shopping for herself. The news allowed the first lady, who had never cared for the fashion, to both accommodate the newspapers and oblige her own preferences by henceforth abandoning her bustle (Dunlap, 2009: 57). Four years later, on the eve of Cleveland’s second presidential win, the Atlanta Constitution of November 7 announced that its 1888 story had been a ruse. The newspaper applauded itself for having combined “romantic” reporting with Mrs. Cleveland’s influence to make bustles a “thing of the past”—an exaggerated conclusion that is sometimes supported in whole by those writing about the first lady (quoted in



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Robar, 2004: 41–42; see also Watson, 2012: 365). Although sales did decrease, the bustle remained a commonly worn gown support through the 1890s. For those who had abandoned their bustle, a stiffened petticoat, or “crinoline,” took its place. According to the Aberdeen Daily News of March 3, the skirt of Frances Cleveland’s 1893 inaugural gown “was well stiffened with crinoline,” but without “wires or hoopskirt accompaniment.” Mrs. Cleveland’s civic influence was less pronounced. She continued to hold the Saturday receptions of her recent predecessors, but often graciously added a second, and sometimes a third, weekly reception to accommodate her popularity. She hosted a reception for the International Council of Women, an organization that advocated human rights for women (Willard, 1904: 530). Mrs. Cleveland also assisted with the Christmas Club of Washington and its African American counterpart, the Colored Christmas Club—two groups that provided food, clothing, and toys for poor children in the area (Carpenter, 1960: 264). During her hiatus as first lady, between her husband’s first and second term, she gave her name and her time to help establish free kindergartens in New York City (Dunlap, 2009: 71). On her return to the White House, Cleveland “manifested a friendly interest” in the Home for Friendless Colored Girls and attended an entertainment given to aid the organization. The event was held at Washington’s Metropolitan African Methodist Episcopal Church, and on February 15, 1896 the Washington Post reported that Mrs. Cleveland was the first president’s wife to visit “a colored church in this city since Mrs. Lucy Webb Hayes.” There were limits, though, to Frank Cleveland’s civic interests. She supported temperance, but allowed wine at White House entertainments. She respected the concerns of workingwomen but did not support women’s suffrage. She kept the political influence that she wielded firmly

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centered on her role as a supportive wife and loving mother. The Woman’s Column reported on July 16, 1892 that, when a group of women “with Democratic sympathies” enthusiastically wrote Mrs. Cleveland about their newly formed “Frances Cleveland Influence Club,” they were rebuffed. Responding for his wife, Grover Cleveland reminded the organization that the name of Frances Cleveland was “sacred in the home circle.” Thus, both he and his wife strongly preferred that it not be used “in the organization and operation of clubs created to exert political influence.” All the same, her domestic focus softened her husband’s image and yielded a “political value” (Dunlap, 2009: 78). Unfortunately it was not enough to help win Cleveland his first bid for reelection. In November 1888 Grover Cleveland lost the presidency to Benjamin Harrison. With that, the Clevelands left both the White House and their retreat, Oak View, approximately three miles northwest of the executive mansion. The mansion staff was sorry to see Frances Cleveland go, but no more so than she was to leave. White House intimate, W. H. Crook, wrote that, as he went up to the family quarters to say good‐ bye, he overheard the first lady tell butler Jerry Smith: “Now, Jerry, I want you to take good care of all the furniture and ornaments in the house … for I want to find everything just as it is now when we come back again.” Confused, Smith asked Mrs. Cleveland when it was she expected to return, so he could prepare. “We are coming back just four years from today,” she replied, and that she did (Crook, 1910: 29). During their temporary absence from the capital, Grover Cleveland busied himself ensuring that in the upcoming presidential election of 1892 he would not win just the popular vote, as he had in 1888, but the electoral vote too. His wife busied herself becoming a mother. Ruth Cleveland was born in 1891, and when Grover Cleveland took his second oath of office on a bitterly

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cold March 4, 1893, Frances Cleveland sat shivering in the grandstand, two months pregnant. That baby arrived at high noon, on September 9, 1893, to a father who had displayed, according to the Utah Journal, “something like a shadow of disappointment” that the “new‐born babe was a girl” (Anonymous, 1893). They named her Esther, and to date, she is the only presidential child born in the White House. The couple’s daughter Marion arrived in 1895 while the family was summering in Buzzard’s Bay, Massachusetts. Two other children, Richard Folsom in 1897 and Francis Grover in 1903, were born after their parents retired to Westland Mansion in Princeton, New Jersey. Although Grover Cleveland endured ever‐increasing criticism during his second administration, his wife retained her ­popularity. In part it was her beauty. “People never tire of looking at her,” wrote the New York Times on January 26, 1896. “She has a beautiful neck and well‐rounded ­shoulders,” and in evening dress she “is the handsomest woman … in Washington.” Frances exemplified motherhood, reported the Chicago Daily Tribune on April 30, 1894. She was never apart from her children overnight and was a common sight around the city, riding “in the family phaeton, accompanied by her babies and the nurses.” Moreover, she pleased society and the visiting public with her warm and generous hospitality. France Cleveland was a successful first lady from start to finish. For her, wrote the Boston Sunday Herald on February 7, 1897, we offer “an ovation, in which her distinguished husband is allowed to share as … a sort of gentleman in waiting.” Cleveland did not run for a third term. Rumors were that he would do so if asked, but there were also early rumors that he had tired of the presidency. He would much rather “hunt and fish,” reported the Cleveland Plain Dealer on April 10, 1896, and his wife had had “all she wants of Washington life.” As it turned out, the

decision was not Grover Cleveland’s to make. The Democratic Party, split over the gold standard, never entered his name at their national convention. The candidacy went to populist Democrat candidate William Jennings Bryan, and the Clevelands readied themselves for retirement. In March 1898 the couple settled in Princeton, New Jersey, an area they had found to their liking the previous fall. There they took “a central place of honor and affection in the community” (Leitch, 2015: 102). When Cleveland died in 1908, Frances continued to make her home there, although she took the children on an extended tour of Europe after their father’s death. In 1913 she married Thomas Jex Preston Junior, a professor of archeology at Princeton University. Up until her death on October 29, 1947, the former first lady traveled, offered her presence at war bond rallies, and appeared occasionally at the White House. According to the October 18, 1919 issue of Woman Patriot, she also served as an officer in the New Jersey Association Opposed to Woman’s Suffrage. Frances Folsom Cleveland Preston died in Baltimore while visiting her son, Richard, and is buried in Princeton, next to her first husband and their daughter, Ruth, who had died at the age of twelve from diphtheria. Caroline Scott Harrison Young Frank Cleveland had married her husband when he was at the pinnacle of his career, and she immediately began wedded life as first lady of the land. It was a great deal of responsibility for a young woman, but it was also, on a grand scale, like an extended débutante season, one enjoyed by the new Mrs. Cleveland and by social Washington alike. Contrastingly, the fifty‐ six‐year‐old Caroline Scott Harrison had shared thirty‐five years with her husband Benjamin before their move to the White House in 1889. She was a companionate



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partner who had supported Harrison’s career while she created a home for him and their children. She was artistic and confident and she excelled at domestic management. She arrived at the executive mansion ready and able to perform her new responsibilities. However, she was also determined to make the White House a home for the four generations of family she brought with her to Washington. The Harrisons had invited their daughter, Mary “Mamie” McKee, her husband James, and their two children, two‐year old Benjamin and baby Mary, to continue living with them in the capital as they had in Indianapolis (Hannaford, 2005: 123). They also invited their son, Russell Harrison, his wife, Mary Saunders Harrison, and their daughter Marthena, born January 1890, to join them, which they did off and on during Harrison’s four years in office. Caroline Harrison’s father, Dr. John Witherspoon Scott, also moved into the White House, as did Elizabeth Scott Lord, Caroline’s ailing sister, and Mary Lord Dimmick, Lord’s widowed daughter. Harrison’s nesting instincts, along with her grandmotherly appearance, her long marriage, and her mid‐ America roots, made her appear the “model of domesticity” (Schneider and Schneider, 2005: 153). Doorkeeper Thomas Pendel remembered Mrs. Harrison as a woman who spent a “great deal of time in painting orchids and china” in the mansion conservatory (Pendel, 1902: 135). Gilded Age journalist Frank Carpenter described her as a “modestly dressed elderly lady” who was “the best housekeeper that [the] Pennsylvania Avenue mansion has yet known” (Carpenter, 1960: 300–301). Caroline Harrison’s artistic and domestic attributes served the people’s palace well. Longtime chief usher Ike Hoover wrote that, although her husband’s administration “accomplished nothing startling,” Mrs. Harrison left her “imprint everywhere around the White House” (Hoover, 1934: 20–21). In organizing her new home, she

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searched the attic of the executive mansion for furniture pieces with historical value, retrieving them for posterity. She recovered a variety of old table services, interviewed the small staff as to their origin, then had them repaired and properly housed in the butler’s pantry. Those pieces eventually led to the 1917 creation of the White House China Room (Monkman, 2000: 172). Concerned with the decaying condition of the White House and the inadequacy of its private living quarters, the first lady worked with an architect to design a major expansion of the mansion. When the plan failed to gain support from Congress, she focused on making interior improvements throughout the president’s home (Thacker‐ Estrada, 2004: 62). Under her watch, more bathrooms were installed, the family living area was reconfigured, all the old flooring was replaced, the conservatory rebuilt, furniture purchased, and the walls “frescoed and painted” (Hoover, 1934: 10). During this same time the house was also wired for electricity. “The change was so great,” claimed Hoover, that, when the Clevelands returned for their second reign, “they hardly recognized the house which they had left four years before” (1934: 10). Caroline Harrison also designed a new set of White House china that paid tribute to both the nation and the Harrisons’ home state of Indiana. Each platter was edged with 44 gold stars below a weave of corn stalks and golden rod, with an American eagle motif at its center (Monkman, 2000: 172–173). She honored the public’s respect for her husband and his office by mailing out ceramic milk sets to newborns who had been named after the president (Carpenter, 1960: 301). Despite Washington society’s fear “that there would be nothing going on at the White House Under the Harrisons,” the first lady invited Washington’s elite women to share in her own interests (Harrison, 1889–1890: 46). She brought in an expert from Indianapolis to teach eager Cabinet wives and society ladies the art of

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ceramic painting, after which they fired their handiwork in Caroline Harrison’s private kiln. Although she was as “disgusted with newspapers + reporters” as her husband’s predecessor, she permitted the public a more generous peek at the family’s private life, both through formal portraits and through casual images of the grandchildren at play (Harrison, 1889–1890: 34). Off executive grounds, the first lady served as the founding president of the newly created Daughters of the American Revolution. She also joined an illustrious committee of women who used their pocketbooks to promote the inclusion of females in the field of medicine. Spearheaded by Mary Elizabeth Garrett, heir to the Baltimore and Ohio Railroad fortune, the committee agreed to finance John Hopkins’s new medical school on the condition that the university would admit women into the program—a tactic that worked. Between March 26, 1889 and February 11, 1890, Caroline Scott Harrison kept a White House diary. The diary entries do nothing to dispel the image of a first lady who was the model of domesticity, less impressed with her position as the nation’s hostess than she was preoccupied with the care of her family. In a diary of mainly short, unembellished entries, she wrote only a few sentences on the formal reception of Prince and Princess Arisugawa Takehito of Japan, but devoted a whole paragraph to the cleaning of the White House floors— which she supposed had not been “scrubbed for many years”—and made several mentions of baby McKee’s possible pneumonia (1889–1890: 9, 17, 9–10; quotation at 26). In general, Harrison spent little time describing in her diary official functions that others might have found notable. She did, however, express the hope that her entertainments reflected well on the Harrison family, and she appreciated compliments on a job well done. She noted in her diary that she had heard positive reports about her first New Year’s reception from those “who

had good opportunities to know” and she hoped it would quiet others, who had been disappointed by the Clevelands’ departure (Harrison, 1889–1890: 46). She was excited that her first state dinner had gone well and had lacked stuffiness, but she noted that the caterer’s use of a white serving staff had “caused some comment in the papers” (1889–1890: 47). “The Colored servants,” she clarified, “have had a particular claim on the attendance here” (1889–1890: 47). Gilson Willets, quoting a “Washington reporter,” wrote that the White House waiters “employed by the steward or the ­ caterer … were usually colored men” (Willets, 1908: 182). That was not the case during the Harrison administration and it drew public mention. The Pittsburg Dispatch of October 14, 1889 reported that “either the President, or the President’s wife” had “dismissed nine colored servants and put in nine white ones.” On July 28, 1890, San Francisco’s Daily Alta California informed its readers that “Mrs. Harrison prefers a white coachman.” The paper speculated that, as a Midwest northerner, Caroline Harrison was not accustomed to African Americans. The first lady, however, had been raised in an abolitionist home. In 1845, her father’s strong antislavery opinions had cost him his professorship at Ohio’s Miami University (Thomas, 1909: 14). Her husband, too, had a record of supporting African American rights and “spoke vigorously, positively, strongly, and clearly on the race problem” in his annual addresses to Congress (Sinkler, 1969: 213). Caroline Harrison’s own attitudes are more of a mystery. For whatever reason, and unlike her predecessor, she did not take an active public role in promoting African American causes, and her diary entries give little hint as to her personal opinions on race. She touched on the topic only twice: once in noting the staffing issue, and one other time when she commended the spirit of the African American crowd attending a very rainy 1889 Emancipation Day parade (Harrison, 1889–1890: 14, 47).



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Other diary entries show a first lady occasionally discouraged with her public duties. She grumbled that bad press made it “an impossibility to attempt to go into mourning [over her sister’s death] + keep up official duties” (1889–1890: 46). She critiqued a parade band as “dreadful to hear” and lamented hurried lunches (1889–1890: 14). She expressed a momentary sense of relief when a citywide epidemic of grippe (influenza) forced the cancellation of a diplomatic dinner. It would have been a “task,” she wrote and later crossed out, “to entertain so many persons who spoke—different languages” (1889–1890: 48). Caroline Harrison ended her diary a week and a day after Secretary of the Navy Benjamin Franklin Tracy lost his wife and daughter in a house fire. The funeral was held in the East Room—the fourth of eleven funerals that would strike close to the Harrisons. First had been Caroline Harrison’s sister in December 1889. Secretary of State James G. Blaine lost his adult son, Walker, on January 15, 1890, then his daughter Alice Blaine Coppinger on February 2, both from complications of the grippe. On February 3, 1890 Secretary Tracy’s wife, Delinda Catlin Tracy, his daughter Mary, and the family’s French maid, Josephine Morel, succumbed to a fire that devastated the Tracy home, as reported in the Boston Daily Journal that same day. After the diary stopped, five more deaths followed. On January 29, 1891, Harrison’s secretary of the treasury, William Windom, died suddenly of heart failure at a banquet in New York City. Mary Frances Halford, wife of the president’s private secretary, Elijah W. Halford, died of bronchitis that April. James and Harriet Blaine lost yet another adult son, Emmons Blaine, to acute appendicitis in June 1892. The first lady herself died four months later, and then Harrison’s ninety‐two‐year‐old father‐in‐ law, Dr. John Witherspoon Scott, passed away in November.

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On December 1 the Fort Scott Daily Monitor in Kansas calculated that if one were to include the deaths of those “of lesser station,” like that of chief usher E. S. Densmore, 15 deaths had surrounded the Harrison White House by the end of 1892. When James G. Blaine died on January 27, that number rose to 16. Less than four years before, the incoming president had arrived at the mansion amid an entourage of family and luggage. Excited and rushed, he dropped his valise and then immediately stumbled over it. “Mrs. Harrison,” wrote the Savannah Tribune on March 2, 1889, “remarked something about it being an ill omen, at which the general laughed heartily.” An omen it may not have been, but one wonders whether the president recalled that exchange later, and with less humor. Caroline Lavinia Scott Harrison died on October 25, 1892, five days after her thirty‐ ninth wedding anniversary. The tuberculosis, discovered in late 1891, had taken its toll. Only months after the diagnosis, newspapers were reporting on her poor health, and on October 12 the New Haven Evening Register correctly anticipated that it would not be long before “the sad emblem of crepe will hang from the bronzed doorknob of the White House.” When death came in the early hours of October 25, the newspapers were ready with their tributes. A funeral in the East Room was followed by another in Indianapolis, where Caroline Harrison was buried. Two weeks after her death, Benjamin Harrison lost his bid for a second term to Grover Cleveland, and on November 11 the Boston Post reported that “President Harrison and his family” were “looking toward the vacating of the executive mansion on March 4.” However, despite the deaths and the defeat, there was still a White House to run and a social season to finish out once the official mourning period ended. That responsibility fell on Mary Harrison McKee.

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Mary Harrison McKee Five days after First Lady Caroline Harrison’s death, the Trenton Evening Times predicted that her daughter, Mary McKee, would make a good successor, “for she has been accustomed to assist[ing] Mrs. Harrison at all times in entertaining” McKee had also occasionally served in her mother’s stead, beginning with the Harrisons’ first White House New Year’s Day reception in 1890. Caroline Harrison’s ailing sister died on December 10, 1889, and, officially in mourning, Mrs. Harrison chose her daughter to be her substitute. Although social Washington recognized that the first lady would be unable to preside, it was upset that the honor of taking her place had gone to McKee instead of a Cabinet wife (Harrison, 1889–1890: 45). After that initial reception, however, Mary McKee became a familiar and accepted White House hostess, whether she was relieving her mother or conducting her own entertainments. She and her sister‐in‐law, Mary Saunders Harrison, were fonder of society than Caroline Harrison. Both “dearly enjoyed to play the part of gracious hostesses,” recalled White House employee William Crook (1911: 215). They welcomed a number of friends to the executive mansion and Mary McKee held one of the few ever White House balls, what doorkeeper Pendel (1902: 135) called a “swell affair.” She also assisted her mother at formal receptions and helped with correspondence. All this was training for her sad elevation to first lady. Her four‐month tenure as the official White House mistress was shrouded in family grief and coincided almost immediately with her father’s presidential defeat. Because the White House was in bereavement until January 1893 and a new first lady would be in charge as of March 4, the city tended to look past Mary McKee’s temporary reign to the return of Frances Cleveland. What little the press did write about McKee was complimentary. The Trenton Evening

Times of October 30, 1892 described her as a “sprightly, attractive young woman,” well educated, and “a splendid musician, like her mother.” A few weeks later, the November 17 issue of the Worcester, Massachusetts Daily Spy wrote that McKee was popular and pretty (although “not so pretty as Mrs. Cleveland”) and it considered her a noble substitute for her mother’s role as White House mistress. Her two children, Mary and Benjamin, continued to delight the public with their antics; and, as a daughter, she had proved herself a constant source of comfort and support to her father, despite her own grief. The city expected that the White House, closed to the public since Mrs. Harrison’s death, would reopen for the traditional New Year’s Day reception on January 1, 1893. However, the New Year began without the open house. Not only were the Harrisons still in mourning, but McKee’s niece, Marthena Harrison, developed scarlet fever, putting the mansion under quarantine. Without a White House celebration to lead the festivities, the Cabinet wives decided to cancel their own receptions. It was, wrote the Los Angeles Herald on January 3, the “quietest First of January ever known in Washington.” Announcements were made that the White House would reopen to the public on January 31. For Mary McKee, that date would have marked the beginning of her ceremonial duties. Instead, the executive mansion remained closed so that McKee and her father could attend the funeral of former Secretary of State James G. Blaine, who had died in his Washington home on January 27. Shortly after the funeral, the White House recommenced its triweekly presidential receptions, at which McKee most likely presided. However, it was already into February and the inauguration was only four weeks away. By that time Harrison’s son had moved his family to the Arlington Hotel, and packing boxes cluttered the executive mansion. On February



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23, Mrs. McKee honored her mother’s memory with an informal reception for the Society of the Daughters of the American Revolution (The National Society, 1893: 425). She honored her again at a small dinner party given on March 3 for the ­ incoming presidential couple. In a room decorated in green and white, guests dined on the china “for which Mrs. Harrison gave the order” and for which, noted the New York Times on March 4, she had held such a ­special interest. After Harrison’s retirement, Mary McKee continued to assist her father in a semi‐­ official capacity. She accompanied him back to Indianapolis, staying for months to get him settled and standing by his side at the many events welcoming him home (Calhoun, 2005: 154). She and the still newsworthy “Baby McKee” joined him at the World’s Columbian Exposition in New York (Bertuca, Hartman, and Neumeister, 1996: 255). In the spring of 1894 she traveled with Harrison to the newly opened Stanford University, where he presented a series of lectures (Calhoun, 2005: 158). Always her father’s caretaker, McKee rushed from her home in New York to Indianapolis when Harrison fell ill in March 1895, nursing him back to health alongside her maternal cousin Mary Dimmick, the young widow who had lived at the White House during the Harrison administration. Mary McKee had not been pleased to see Dimmick in Indianapolis. She was unsettled by the apparent romance between her father and her cousin. McKee’s husband later implied that the amorous feelings between Harrison and Dimmick dated back to the White House years and that, as a result, his mother‐in‐law had threatened to leave the president. Historian Charles William Calhoun, however, argued that the only one threatened during the Washington period was Mary McKee (2005: 155–156). She felt her relationship with her father usurped by Dimmick, as the couple often took walks together and played pool (2005: 156).

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According to Calhoun (2005: 155–156), Harrison’s romantic feelings toward his wife’s niece did not develop until after Caroline’s death. Whatever the situation, Mary McKee disliked her cousin. “I freely confess,” she wrote her husband in 1895, “that I so thoroughly despise the woman that I can not form an unbiased opinion nor a wise one” (quoted in Calhoun, 2005: 159). When the former president announced his engagement in January 1896, the Argus News in Crawfordsville, Indiana had ready gossip about Mary McKee’s response. Mrs. McKee, it reported on January 20 of that year, had hastened to Indianapolis from New York to remove any personal items from her childhood home. Once that was accomplished, she determined never again to “cross the threshold of her father’s residence” unless circumstances changed. When Benjamin Harrison married Mary Lord Dimmick on April 6, 1896, neither his daughter nor his son attended. “It is generally understood,” wrote the Baltimore Sun on April 7, “that they are displeased at their father’s marriage, and absolutely declined to witness the ceremony.” Harrison knew that Mary disapproved of his marriage; she and her brother had made their dislike for Dimmick very clear. He was determined, though, that no one, not even his children, would deny him the “sorely” needed “presence and love” of Mary Dimmick (Calhoun, 2005: 161). The former president remained permanently estranged from his children after the wedding and, by association, from his grandchildren. He died five years later, leaving a new daughter, Elizabeth, born in 1897, and a wife who would outlive him by almost fifty years. On February 17, 1896, two months before the final break with her father, Mary Harrison McKee returned to the White House for a luncheon in her honor. In a state dining room extravagantly decorated in ferns, she sat with Frances Cleveland and a table of Washingtonian friends. Eleven years before, as Grover Cleveland prepared

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for his first inauguration, Mary McKee had been a young bride in Indianapolis and her hostess had been a student at Wells College. A marriage in the Blue Room had elevated Frances Cleveland to first lady, a position preceded by a sister‐in‐law happy to give up the title; a funeral in the East Room had raised her guest to the same position, ­replacing a mother whose domestic touch was still evident throughout the Cleveland White House. Between 1885 and 1897, through two administrations, four women accepted the responsibilities of White House mistress. Rose Cleveland brought dignity to a role she understood would be temporary. Her successor offered the nation its first youthful White House mistress since Harriet Lane and its first presidential wife since Lucy Hayes whose term was not overwhelmed with tragedy. Frances Cleveland embraced her post and, in response, social Washington and the nation adored her. Caroline Harrison, who succeeded Frances in 1889, brought a homemaker’s sensibility to the White House. Her efforts in remodeling, reorganizing, and scrubbing clean the presidential mansion left a lasting legacy. Daughter Mary McKee took on her mother’s responsibilities, both before and after Caroline Harrison’s death. She accepted the role of first lady with grace and in the midst of personal grief. Each of the four women served admirably, but in three cases the tenure was short, and in the case of Frances Cleveland time has diminished her popularity. Because of that, history has given them all their obligatory due but little else; and, for all four, there is more to be written. Review of the Literature Of the four women in this chapter, only Frances Cleveland and Caroline Harrison have been guaranteed places in the many compilations written on America’s first

ladies. Of these two, Cleveland has drawn the most attention. She was a popular subject of early White House chroniclers, who wrote gushingly of “the girlish bride of the President” whose “gracious presence and winsome manners [captured] every heart and bridge[d] every pitfall” (Chapin, 1887: 246; Gordon, 1889: 444). The emphasis was on her youth, beauty, and charm, and under the wing of these writers Frances Cleveland never left her twenties. Early political biographers of Grover Cleveland handled Frances in the same manner, if they did not ignore her completely. For Robert McElroy, who wrote a two‐volume “authorized biography” of the president, Frances Folsom Cleveland was an attractive accessory, never mentioned more than in passing (McElroy, 1923). Allan Nevins did no better, either in his biography of Cleveland or in the collection of Cleveland’s letters he edited. In the first he mentioned Frances only briefly, as Cleveland’s “tall, graceful, very pretty” bride (Nevins, 1932: 303). Nevins’s volume of Cleveland letters contains no correspondence to or from his wife (1933). Fifty‐five years later, the first lady was still being ignored, this time by Cleveland’s biographer Richard Welch (1988). In the twenty‐first century, as historians became more aware that presidential wives had an influence of their own, biographers began to give Frances Cleveland more space (Jeffers, 2000; Brodsky, 2000; Algeo, 2011; Graff, 2002). With the exception of H. Paul Jeffers, though, few have made her more than a minor character, and all have given her the role of an affectionate wife and mother who good‐humoredly followed her husband’s lead. Frances Cleveland is the only woman in this chapter who has been the subject of a popular biography unconnected to a series on the first ladies, hers by way of Annette Dunlap’s (2009) Frank. Dunlap r­ eexamined Cleveland’s life to uncover a woman who was both a political partner to her husband during his lifetime and a political activist in



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her own right after his death. Frances Cleveland Preston worked with the New Jersey Association Opposed to Woman’s Suffrage and with the National Security League, an organization that promoted “war preparedness” before World War I (Dunlap, 2009: 143). As a twentieth‐­ century woman, Cleveland was not afraid to give speeches in front of large audiences or to promote political causes under her own name (2009: 143–148, 152; National First Ladies Library, 2014). For those seeking original documentation, the Burton Historical Collection at the Detroit Public Library holds 26 letters ­written by Frances Cleveland between 1888 and 1890. Cleveland’s alma mater, Wells College, houses the Frances Folsom Cleveland Collection, which covers Cleveland’s life from her days as a student through her second marriage and includes, for example, a diary kept by a college friend during her visit to the White House in 1887. On the college’s online site is an account of the future first lady’s college years, down to her low grade in geometry and the “hampers” of flowers she received weekly from her future husband (Wells College, 2015). The Shapell Manuscript Foundation’s website includes President Cleveland’s handwritten wedding invitation to the postmaster general and a four‐page letter from Grover Cleveland to his fiancée. The New Jersey Department of State has a small Cleveland collection that, as of 2014, was available online. It includes an engraved wedding announcement, two letters written by Frances Cleveland, and a flattering photograph of her sister‐in‐law Rose Cleveland, taken by a New York photographer. Frank Cleveland is also a character in Joyce Carol Oates’s The Accursed (published in 2013). The story is set in Princeton, New Jersey, 1905, after Grover Cleveland’s retirement. In what Stephen King called “the world’s first postmodern Gothic novel,” the former first lady is cast as a woman reduced to caregiving a morbidly

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obese Grover Cleveland, who consumed large amounts of food and witnessed apparitions of their dead daughter Ruth ­ (King, 2013). Scholars have neglected to explore both Cleveland’s and Caroline Harrison’s ­relationship with the press. This despite the unprecedented use of Frank Cleveland’s image and name in advertising and Caroline Harrison’s savvy handling of the press with regard to her grandchildren. Only Rebecca Edwards (1997), in Angels in the Machinery, has recognized the informal political influence of the two women, although Frances Cleveland receives most of her consideration. While Cleveland and Harrison are both profiled in the Nova Presidential Wives Series, Caroline Scott Harrison has never been the subject of a scholarly biography (Moore, 2005; Robar, 2004). Early White House chroniclers who thrived on the wiles of young Cleveland saw little interest in a first lady they regarded as a “beneficent and kindly” homemaker (Whipple, 1910; Carpenter, 1960). Biographers of Benjamin Harrison, though, have found Caroline Harrison hard to ignore in the way Cleveland biographers have ignored Frank. She was, after all, a part of Harrison’s life since he was seventeen and at his side from his first political campaign in 1872 through his ­ presidency. From these biographies the same portrait of Caroline Harrison emerges (Sievers, 1959, 1968; Socolofsky and Spetter, 1987; Calhoun, 2005). The Harrisons were in a companionate marriage in which each played a specific role and Caroline took far‐reaching control over all domestic responsibilities, even in the White House. Because of that, it was she who decided on press access to the grandchildren, and she who took charge of proposed changes to the mansion. It was most likely Caroline Harrison who worked with the steward to decide on the controversial White House staffing. No one has yet explored her in depth, however, to see whether the image portrayed by her

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husband’s biographers is an honest one, whether the family division of labor was as deep as depicted, and, more interestingly, whether her domestic control translated into direct political influence over the president. The most charming biographical description of Caroline Harrison is an article written by New York World’s Nellie Bly (Elizabeth Jane Cochran), who visited Mrs. Harrison in Indianapolis before the presidential election (Hannaford, 2005: 118– 124). Nellie Bly’s Harrison is small and plump, with “dimpled fingers” and a bright smile (Bly, 2005: 123). Cultivated and learned, she is also the perfect grandmother. “She pets everything that comes her way,” Bly noted, “from her husband down to Dash, the collie, [who] lies snapping flies in the sunshine” (2005: 124). Caroline Harrison’s interest in remodeling the White House is displayed in architect F. D. Owen’s drafts of “Alternations to the Executive Mansion, for Mrs. Benjamin Harrison,” available through the Library of Congress. Primary documents and correspondence relating to all of the Harrisons are housed at the Benjamin Harrison presidential site in Indianapolis, including Caroline Harrison’s White House diary and images of both Caroline Harrison and Mary McKee. The Benjamin Harrison Collection spanning the years 1853–1943 at the Indiana Historical Society in Indianapolis contains the correspondence of Caroline Harrison, Mary Harrison McKee, Mary Dimmick Harrison, and Caroline’s father, John Witherspoon Scott. For a researcher looking for information on Mary McKee, these letters, along with newspaper clippings, are the only evident sources. The posthumous outing of Rose Cleveland has prompted interest in this former first lady through a small number of online articles and two scholarly pieces. In 2014 Sirpa Salenius produced Rose Elizabeth Cleveland: First Lady and Literary Scholar, a slim academic study that examines her life and writings from the perspective of gender

norms (Salenius, 2014). Another thoughtful interpretation of Rose Cleveland is Rob Hardy’s (2007) article “The Passion of Rose Elizabeth Cleveland.” It assesses Cleveland’s mindset through her writings and her ­relationship with Evangeline Whipple. Rose Cleveland’s own work also helps define her. This work includes the aforementioned George Eliot’s Poetry: And Other Studies, published in 1885; The Long Run, published in 1886; and a lengthy introduction to You and I: Or Moral, Intellectual and Social Culture, first published in 1886,and later revised and published elsewhere. Cleveland also wrote The Soliloquies of St. Augustine, published in 1910. Two months after her death in Italy, a commemorative sermon on Rose Cleveland was presented at Grace Church in Manhattan (Slattery, 1919). The published eulogy describes her philanthropic work in Italy and includes a statement of praise from its former prime minister, Luigi Luzzatti (1919: 14). Incorporated in the sermon is a long letter from Evangeline Whipple recounting Cleveland’s state funeral in Bagni di Lucca and her heroic work with refugees (1919: 9–14). As a whole, the tribute offers more insight into Rose Cleveland’s later years than is readily available elsewhere. She was a woman of strength and passion, and she is in need of further investigation.

References Algeo, M. 2011. The President Is a Sick Man: Wherein the Supposedly Virtuous Grover Cleveland Survives a Secret Surgery at Sea and Vilifies the Courageous Newspaperman Who Dared Expose the Truth. Chicago: Chicago Review Press. Anonymous. 1886a. “Cleveland‐Folsom, Current Gossip about the Future First Lady.” Kansas City Times (Missouri), May 8: 17. Anonymous. 1886b. “Old Men Her Favorite, Romantic Marriages of Bishop Whipple’s Bride.” News and Courier (Charleston), November 1.



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Anonymous. 1887. “Publications Received.” The  Phrenological Journal and Science of Health 84 (February): 115–116. Anonymous. 1888a. “Bustle Banished.” Frank Leslie’s Illustrated Newspaper 66 (July 28): 379. Anonymous. 1888b. “Bustleless.” Good Health, September 9: 333. Anonymous. 1888c. “Early Campaign Slander.” New York Times, June 8: 5. Anonymous. 1888d. “Novelties.” American Bookseller 24 (5), September 1: 134. Anonymous. 1893. “Ruth Has a Sister.” The Journal (Logan City, Utah), September 13: 5. Bertuca, D. J., D. K. Hartman, and S. M. Neumeister. 1996. The World’s Columbian Exposition: A Centennial Bibliographic Guide. Westport, CT: Greenwood Press. Brodsky, A. 2000. Grover Cleveland: A Study in Character. New York: St. Martin’s Press. Calhoun, C. W. 2005. Benjamin Harrison. The American Presidents Series: The 23rd President, 1889–1893. New York: Henry Holt. Carpenter, F. G. 1960. Carp’s Washington, edited by F. Carpenter. New York: McGraw‐Hill. Chapin, Mrs., E. N. 1887. American Court Gossip: Or, Life at the National Capitol [sic]. Marshalltown, IA: Chapin & Hartwell Bros. Cleveland, R. E. 1887. “Beauty, the Reformer.” Dress: A Monthly Magazine 1 (October): 1. Crook, W. H. 1910. “Home Life of the Cleveland: Personal Recollections of Colonel W. H. Crook.” The Saturday Evening Post 183, October 22: 23–29. Crook, W. H. and H. Rood. 1911. Memories of the White House: The Home Life of Our Presidents from Lincoln to Roosevelt, Being Personal Recollections of Colonel W. H. Crook. Boston: Little, Brown. Dunlap, A. 2009. Frank: The Story of Frances Folsom Cleveland, America’s Youngest First Lady. New York: SUNY Press. Edwards, R. B. 1997. Angels in the Machinery: Gender in American Party Politics from the Civil War to the Progressive Era. New York: Oxford University Press. Fayetteville Free Library. 2014. “Grover Cleveland Online Exhibit.” http://www.­ fayettevillefreelibrary.org/Clevelandpg2.html (accessed March 12, 2015). Gernerd, J. M. M. 1888. “Throwing Mud at Miss Cleveland.” 1888. Now and Then 2 (1) (July–August): 6–7.

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Gordon, L. L. 1889. From Lady Washington to Mrs. Cleveland. Boston: Lee and Shepard. Graff, H. F. 2002. Grover Cleveland. The American Presidents Series: The 22nd and 24th President, 1885–1889 and 1893–1897. New York: Times Books. Graybell, M. 1885. “The White House Lady, Portrait of the President’s Sister, Rose Elizabeth.” Trenton Evening Times (New Jersey), July 19. Hannaford, P. A. 2005. Daughters of America, or, Women of the Century. New York: Cosimo Classics. Hardy, R. 2007. “The Passion of Rose Elizabeth Cleveland.” New England Review 28 (1): 180–193. Harrison, C. S. 1889–1890. White House Diary. Manuscript. Research library at the Benjamin Harrison Presidential Site, Indianapolis. http://firstladiess.c‐span.org/images/ DIARYCLSH.pdf (accessed March 9, 2014). Hoover, I. H. 1934. Forty‐two Years in the White House. Boston: Houghton Mifflin. Jeffers, H. P. 2000. An Honest President: The Life and Presidencies of Grover Cleveland. New York: William Morrow. Katz, J. N. 1989. “Katz on History: The President’s Sister and the Bishop’s Wife: An Advocate Inauguration Special.” The Advocate, January 31: 34–35. King, S. 2013. “Bride of Hades: ‘The Accursed’ by Joyce Carol Oates.” Sunday Book Review. New York Times, March 14. Lane, F. S. 2009. American Privacy: The 400‐ Year History of Our Most Contested Right. Boston: Beacon. Leitch, A. 2015. A Princeton Companion. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Lincoln, M. D. 1893. Over the Lawn to the White House. Washington, DC: M. D. Lincoln and E. Maynicke. http://babel.hathitrust.org/cgi/ pt?id=loc.ark:/13960/t1fj3b08r;view=1up; seq=3 (accessed March 10, 2014). McElroy, R. M. 1923. Grover Cleveland, the Man and the Statesman: An Authorized Biography, 2 vols. New York: Harper & Brothers. Monkman, B. C. 2000. White House: Its Historic Furnishings and First Families. New York: Abbeville Press. Moore, A. C. 2005. Caroline Lavinia Scott Harrison. A Volume in the Presidential Wives Series. New York: Nova Science.

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National First Ladies Library. 2014. “First Lady Biography: Frances Cleveland.” July 31. http:// www.firstladies.org/biographies/firstladies. aspx?biography=23 (accessed October 10, 2015). Nevins, A. 1932. Grover Cleveland: A Study in Courage. New York: Dodd, Mead. Nevins, A., ed. 1933. Letters of Grover Cleveland, 1850–1908. New York: Houghton Mifflin. Peck, H. T. 1905. Twenty Years of the Republic, 1885–1905. New York: Dodd, Mead. Pendel, T. F. 1902. Thirty‐Six Years in the White House. Washington, DC: Neale Publishing. The National Society. 1893. “Proceedings of the Second Continental Congress of the Daughters of the American Revolution: Wednesday, February 22.” The American Monthly Magazine 2 (4): 415–464. Robar, S. F. 2004. Frances Clara Folsom Cleveland. A Volume in the Presidential Wives Series. New York: Nova Science. Salenius, S. 2014. Rose Elizabeth Cleveland: First Lady and Literary Scholar. New York: Palgrave Macmillan. Schneider, D., and C. J. Schneider, 2005. First Ladies: A Biographical Dictionary. New York: Facts on File. Sievers, H. J. 1959. Benjamin Harrison, Hoosier Statesman: From the Civil War to the White House 1865–1888. New York: University Publishers. Sievers, H. J. 1968. Benjamin Harrison, Hoosier President: The White House and After. Indianapolis: Bobbs‐Merrill. Sinkler, G. 1969. “Benjamin Harrison and the Matter of Race.” Indiana Magazine of History 65 (3): 197–213. Slattery, C. L. 1919. “Rose Elizabeth Cleveland: A Sermon Preached to the Colonial Dames of the State of New York in Grace Church in New York on Sunday, January 26, 1919.” http://babel.hathitrust.org/cgi/pt?id=yale. 39002064717938;view=1up;seq=1 (accessed June 17, 2015). Socolofsky, H. E., and A. B. Spetter. 1987. The Presidency of Benjamin Harrison. Lawrence: University Press of Kansas.

Thacker‐Estrada, E. L. 2004. “Rooms of Their Own: First Ladies and Their Impact on Historic White House Rooms.” In Life in the White House: A Social History of the First Family and the President’s House, edited by R. P. Watson, 49–73. Albany, NY: SUNY Press. Thomas, T. E. 1909. Correspondence of Thomas Ebenezer Thomas: Mainly Relating to the Anti‐ slavery Conflict in Ohio, Especially in the Presbyterian Church. Dayton, OH: privately published. Watson, R. P. 2012. Affairs of State: The Untold History of Presidential Love, Sex, and Scandal, 1789–1900. Lanham: Rowman & Littlefield. Welch, R. E. 1988. The Presidencies of Grover Cleveland. Lawrence: University Press of Kansas. Wells College. 2015. The Frances Folsom Cleveland Collection. https://wellsipedia. wordpress.com/2011/07/19/frances‐­ folsom‐cleveland (accessed June 14). Whipple, E. E. M. 1928. A Famous Corner of Tuscany. London: Jarrolds. Whipple, W. 1910. The Story of the White House. Philadelphia: Henry Altemus. Willard, F. E. 1904. The Autobiography of an American Woman: Glimpses of Fifty Years, with an introduction by H. Whitall Smith. Chicago: Ruby I. Gilbert. Willets, G. 1908. Inside History of the White House: The Complete History of the Domestic and Official Life in Washington of the Nation’s Presidents and Their Families. New York: The Christian Herald. Yurchak, K. 1994. “Rose Elizabeth Cleveland.” In K. Yurchak, Where Wigwams Stood: A History of Muncy, Pennsylvania, as Seen through the Pages of Now and Then, 19–24. Bloomsburg, PA: Spectrum Publishers. https://archive.org/ stream/wherewigwamsstoo00kath#page/n3/ mode/2up (accessed October 15, 2015).

Further Reading Dunlap, A. 2012. “Frances Cleveland’s White House Wardrobe.” White House History 32: 36–47.

Chapter Seventeen

Ida McKinley: A Life of Contrasts Louie P. Gallo

In her youth, Ida Saxton was the belle of Canton, O., and the mature graces of Ida McKinley amply bear out this earlier reputation. The Seattle Post‐Intelligencer, September 13, 1896 There was a clear dichotomy between the early and the later parts of Ida McKinley’s life. During her early years, Ida gained invaluable experiences, not accessible to most women of the mid‐nineteenth century. She received an excellent education, traveled the world, managed her father’s bank, and assisted wounded soldiers ­during the Civil War—all before the age of twenty‐three. Soon after marrying William McKinley, a Civil War veteran, lawyer, and future president of the United States, her life changed drastically. In a two‐year span, from 1873 to 1875, Ida’s two daughters and mother died. Their deaths destroyed Ida physically and mentally. She developed signs of phlebitis, presumably caused by childbirth, which left her sometimes ­immobile. Her health issues worsened in her ­thirties, when she was crippled by epilepsy. Yet Ida constantly supported her husband’s political aspirations, in spite

of her own health problems. Although she was labeled an “invalid,” she helped define his public image as a supportive and dedicated ­husband. This ­chapter will examine the c­ontrasts in the life of Ida McKinley and how she handled her duties as first lady at the turn of the twentieth century. It will also explore how historians have treated her story over the past ­century.

Early Life Ida Saxton was born on June 8, 1847, in Canton, Ohio. She was the daughter of James Saxton and Catharine Dewalt. The Saxton family contributed to Canton’s early social, religious, political, and economic character. Her paternal grandfather, John Saxton, moved to Canton in 1815 and founded there a newspaper called the Ohio Repository. The paper reported national and world affairs to the citizens of Canton, and John remained its chief editor until his death in 1871 (Hartzell, 1896). A year after moving to Canton, John and his wife, Margaret

A Companion to First Ladies, First Edition. Edited by Katherine A. S. Sibley. © 2016 John Wiley & Sons, Inc. Published 2016 by John Wiley & Sons, Inc.

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Laird, had a son, James, who would be Ida’s father. Throughout his life James expanded his family’s success. By the time Ida was a young girl, he owned a hardware store, the Stark County Bank, and profitable manufacturing businesses in the Canton area (Anthony, 2013). Ida’s mother—Catharine, known as “Kate”—was born in 1827 to George Dewalt and Christiana Harter, both Lutherans of German descent who came to Canton even before the Saxtons; George’s parents owned a successful tavern, which served as a place of worship on Sundays and a place to buy home‐brewed German beer the rest of the week (Anthony, 2013). Christiana was extremely close to her daughter and subsequently became close to her granddaughter, Ida. Kate was well educated; as a young girl she attended two different seminary schools in Maryland and Pennsylvania. Biographer Josiah Hartzell noted of Ida’s mother: “Nature had endowed her with the graces of a perfect womanhood, and the home over which she presided was one of the most attractive social centers in the community” (Hartzell, 1896: 8). On August 20, 1846, Kate married James Saxton at the First Presbyterian Church in Canton. The two moved into Kate’s parents’ house, and within a year Ida was born. She was the oldest of three children. She was close to her younger sister Mary (“Pina”), who had been born in December of 1848. Ida’s youngest sibling, George, was born in 1850 and was named after his maternal grandfather, who had died a few days before he was born (Anthony, 2013). James Saxton provided his children with a superb education. In 1853 Ida began her formal schooling under the tutelage of principal Betsy Mix Cowles at Union School in Canton (Anthony, 2013). Cowles, a graduate from Ohio’s Oberlin College, was involved in education and in multiple reform movements, including ones connected with women’s rights and abolitionism. In 1843 she headed the female department at the Grant River

Institute in Austinburg, Ohio (Robertson, 2010). Three years later she coordinated the annual meeting for the Ashtabula County Female Anti‐slavery Society (Morris, 2014), and in April 1850 she presided over a ­women’s rights convention in Salem, Ohio (Heineman, 1996). Cowles was close to the Saxtons because they all shared similar social and religious beliefs. The Saxtons participated in the Canton Anti‐slavery Society co‐founded by Cowles. Ida herself was highly influenced by Cowles. She benefited from all her studies, which ranged from mathematics to music, but these studies were briefly postponed right after the outbreak of the Civil War, when she helped her mother make bandages at the Canton Soldiers Relief Association. In 1862, with encouragement from her father, Ida moved to Clinton County, New York in order to resume study with Cowles, who was now teaching mathematics at the Delhi Academy there (Anthony, 2013). Leaving Delhi Academy a year later, Ida moved back to Ohio, where she attended the Cleveland Female Seminary. At this school near Canton, which was renamed Sanford School after she arrived, her studies focused on foreign languages, literature, music, art, sciences, and proper etiquette. In 1865 she graduated from Sanford School and moved to Media, Pennsylvania, where she attended the Brooke Hall Female Seminary—a so‐called finishing school where young upper‐ and middle‐class women refined their social skills (Clinton and Lunardini, 2000). While at Brooke Hall, Ida was physically active in games and other sports (Anthony, 2013). She was also involved in religious activities; her Presbyterian faith had long been important to her. In June 1867 she graduated from Brooke Hall. Her broad and diverse education had prepared her well for any number of ­pursuits; but, for women of her generation, a teaching post was the most likely option. Almost immediately she became a teacher at the local Presbyterian Church, where she shone



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inside and outside the classroom. In 1868, during a performance at a fundraising event for her church, Ida was voted the “most popular” person. She performed in plays and musicals that year and became well known among the Canton elite (Leffler, 2001). At the age of twenty Ida was hired to work in her father’s bank. It was considered unconventional for a young woman of her social status and achievements to be ­working in this capacity; even more suspicious for the locals was the fact that she was working for her father. Some speculated that James, who was one of the wealthiest men in Canton, was hurting financially. Nevertheless, she was exposed to the city’s financial elite and gained invaluable business experience. She worked as a teller, but also handled other important accounting duties. Even though some people questioned her role in a bank, the men of Canton clamored over Ida. With her family’s wealth, she was the town’s most eligible young woman, but her devotion was for John Wright, a former confederate major. At a summer picnic in 1868 the two were enjoying themselves, when William McKinley, a former Union major, also noticed young Ida, with her blue eyes and auburn‐colored hair. McKinley was a Canton lawyer at the time; he was also the chair of the Republican Central Committee for Stark County and was working for Ulysses S. Grant’s presidential campaign (Morgan, 2003). Although McKinley never forgot about his first encounter with Ida, she did not recall anything but his military rank (Anthony, 2013). In October of that year, Ida revealed her intention to marry John Wright by attending a Halloween ball with him. But, before getting married and settling down, she decided to take a tour of Europe with her sister. She and Mary began their trip in June of 1869; they were escorted by Jeanette Alexander, a schoolteacher in Canton. For six months the trio traveled through Europe, moving from Ireland through Scotland, England, Germany, France,

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Switzerland, and Austria (Schneider and Schneider, 2010). During the trip Ida made sure to keep in contact with John Wright. The two wrote to each other expressing their love and the desire to be reunited. Although she missed him, twenty‐two‐year‐old Ida was focused on enjoying her trip. The initial stops of the tour were full of “firsts” for her. In Cobh, Ireland she went riding on horseback for the first time and in Scotland she had her first alcoholic drink. Ida was drawn to Scotland on account of its Presbyterian history. In Frankfurt she was exposed to European art; she also attended the opera there on a Sunday, a controversial act in her day. During her trip, Ida was independent not only socially but also financially. She noticed that their tour guide, Jeanette Alexander, seemed to be mismanaging Mary’s $2,000 travel budget. Ida thus kept a detailed record of her own expenses (Anthony, 2013). While in France, Ida explored the rituals and beliefs of Catholicism, and in Rome she met Pope Pius IX. As a Presbyterian, Ida was not impressed by the Catholic Church. In spite of this she politely and gracefully observed the customs of this unfamiliar religion. Europe proved to be a socially enlightening journey for her; she witnessed there for the first time some harsh realities. In Amsterdam she met the amputee and painter Charles Felir. While at first she was hesitant about interacting with the artist, she warmed up to him and quickly began listening to him as he explained his technique (Anthony, 2013). On September 25, 1869, while in Geneva, bad news jolted Ida: she learned that John Wright had died of meningitis. She had known from his letters that he was ill, but she did not expect him to die. Luckily Mary was there to comfort and distract her, and Ida attempted to enjoy the rest of her trip (Leffler, 2001). The tour continued through the mountains of Switzerland, through Italy, and finally ended in Paris.

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John J. Leffler (2001) suggests that this “emotional shock” made Ida more thoughtful afterwards as well. Thus, while traveling through rural Switzerland, Ida noticed poverty in a way she had not before, especially among women, who “are made slaves of in this country. It is terrible to see how hard they work in the field, and the loads they carry on their poor backs,” she wrote (Leffler, 2001: 280). Anthony (2013) agrees that this exposure to oppressive conditions among working women left an indelible mark on Ida. Ida and her sister arrived back in Canton in time for Christmas, and she immediately resumed working with her father at the bank. Not one to limit herself, Ida handled loan applications, mortgages, and other duties usually reserved for the bank manager. Meanwhile she recovered from Wright’s death, and her beauty and enthusiasm started to attract suitors. William McKinley, perhaps the most eligible bachelor in Canton, now caught her eye. She first noticed McKinley’s charm when he spoke at a Young Men’s Christian Association (YMCA) lecture in 1870 (Anthony, 2013). McKinley was no stranger to the area. He was born in Niles, Ohio, about 65 miles from Canton, in 1843. At the outbreak of the Civil War, McKinley volunteered for the 23rd Ohio Infantry. He fought in Virginia and Maryland, where he was promoted to commissary sergeant. During the Battle of Antietam, he risked his life to get hot coffee and rations for the front line of his regiment. His bravery earned him the rank of second lieutenant. Eventually he was brevetted major by President Lincoln in March 1865 (Morgan, 2003). After returning home from the war, McKinley moved to New York and graduated from Albany Law School. Once back in Ohio, he was admitted to the bar and set up a law practice on Market Street in Canton, on the floor above James Saxton’s bank. He worked with Saxton on legal matters, and in 1869 he was elected Stark County prosecuting attorney (Olcott, 1916).

Upon meeting Ida again, William was immediately attracted to her intelligence and beauty. He often visited the Saxton home, and he walked with Ida on almost every Sunday on his way to the Methodist Church. She was teaching Sunday school at the Presbyterian Church, but their differing denominations did not affect the way they felt about each other. In the fall of 1870, after receiving permission from James Saxton, McKinley asked Ida to marry him, and she happily accepted. On January 25, 1871, a wedding ceremony was held at the Presbyterian Church in Canton. After the wedding, the couple went on a three‐week honeymoon to New York and Washington, DC (Anthony, 2013). In April 1871, with the assistance of James Saxton, Ida and William moved into a house on Market Street not too far from the Saxton family home. That year, William lost his position as Stark County prosecuting attorney to democratic candidate William A. Lynch (Olcott, 1916). Though Ida lost her paternal grandfather just after her wedding, the situation brightened on Christmas Day 1871 with the birth of the couple’s first child, Katharine (“Katie”), named after Ida’s mother (Olcott, 1916). The following summer Ida joined the Methodist Church, where her daughter was baptized. In late 1872 Ida found out that she was pregnant with her second child. The good news was tarnished, however, when Ida learned her mother was terminally ill. Illness and Ida’s Time as a Politician’s Wife Only two weeks before the birth of Ida’s second daughter, Kate, Ida’s mother, passed away. Meanwhile, Ida’s own health was in jeopardy. According to contemporary studies, she most likely developed “phlebitis” after complications from her pregnancy and from a difficult delivery. She began to have seizures; her body would



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stiffen up and she would make a “hissing sound.” Judging from her symptoms, it was highly likely that Ida had also sustained a fall that damaged her left frontal lobe, which caused her to have epileptic seizures. A spinal injury also contributed to her ­failing health. During Ida’s lifetime ­epilepsy was not commonly understood, and her condition was ­ categorized as a “nervous disorder” or “fainting spells.” There were multiple firsthand accounts of Ida’s ­symptoms, and people close to her refer to this period as the beginning of her “invalidism.” But, given our limited knowledge and evidence about her health, historians can only speculate about what actually precipitated her illness (DeToledo, ­ DeToledo, and Lowe, 2000). For the next four months, Ida did everything she could to care for her new infant, also called Ida, who was a sickly child, while simultaneously monitoring her own health under the supervision of her family physician. Sadly, in August 1873, two days before Ida’s sister’s wedding, baby Ida passed away. By now it was clear Mrs. McKinley’s physical abilities and mental health had deteriorated irrevocably. For the next six months she rested quietly out of public view at her parents’ home in Canton. She was, understandably, in a depressive state. She finally made an appearance at a party in March 1874 (Anthony, 2013). In response to her youngest daughter’s death, Ida kept her eldest daughter Katie close to her at all times. Ida was convinced that God was out to punish her, and her worst fear came to fruition on June 25, 1875, when three‐year‐old Katie died from a “heart disease” caused by scarlet fever. After Katie’s death Ida became suicidal and supposedly “prayed fervently for her own death” (Anthony, 2013: 30). In spite of their family’s hardships, William stayed optimistic. He knew it would only benefit Ida’s health, and friends recognized William’s sacrifice and devotion to his broken wife. To help herself with the grieving process, Ida

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always kept some of her daughters’ pictures, baby clothes, and other toys in sight (Anthony, 2013). Even though William was preoccupied as a caregiver, Ida encouraged him to build his political career. In August 1875, only eight weeks after the death of his daughter, William joined Governor Rutherford B. Hayes on his reelection campaign. Hayes was reelected, and soon became the republican presidential candidate. William decided to capitalize on his friend’s success and to campaign for a US House of Representatives seat from Ohio’s eighteenth district. He, was elected in the fall of 1876. While living in Washington, DC, the couple stayed at Ebbitt House, a handsome hotel in Second Empire style, not too far from the White House. Ida continued to search for a cure to her aliments. She hired the president of the American Neurological Association, Philadelphia neurologist Silas Weir Mitchell. Mitchell had studied seizures and had written extensively on the subject in his Injuries of Nerves and Their Consequences (Mitchell, 1872). In this book he examined the anatomy, physiological pathology, ­symptoms, and treatments of neurological disorders. His analysis of the nervous system was groundbreaking, but his initial treatments were merely educated guesses. Mitchell incorrectly concluded that women were more prone to nervous disorders because they could not handle stress as well as men could, so he developed the “rest cure” for them, which consisted of a strict diet, bed rest, and isolation. The cure was aimed at preventing women from a hysterical reaction. Ida was treated with the “rest cure,” but it did not appear to stop her headaches or seizures. This treatment was featured (and pointedly criticized) in Charlotte Perkins Gilman’s short story The Yellow Wallpaper, published in 1892; Gilman was also a patient of Mitchell’s. In February 1879, Ida attended a reception with President Hayes. She appeared determined to socialize more and to interact

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with the public. She joined the Ladies Aid Society, which provided fresh food, flowers, and books for poor citizens of Washington and for people in hospitals, and she attended other balls and ceremonies with her husband (Anthony, 2013). Even with her newfound motivation, she was still suffering, taking bromide salts to quell her seizures. Bromides are dangerous and can cause neurological problems, but this was not known by scientists and patients at the time. In the late nineteenth century, moreover, the American public was still under the impression that epilepsy was a type of mental illness, or even some kind of demonic possession. In contrast, medical professionals were beginning to understand that it was a brain disorder. In 1881, William R. Gowers published Epilepsy and Other Chronic Convulsive Diseases: Their Causes, Symptoms and Treatments, which studied how hereditary predispositions, age, and sex affected a person’s chance of being epileptic (see Gowers, 1881). Although the study was not entirely correct, it did show how the conventional and accepted theory of epilepsy as a sign of insanity was wrong. In 1881, after returning from a trip to California for their tenth wedding anniversary where Ida was photographed hiking in the Sierra Nevada Mountains, the couple learned about the assassination of President Garfield. The McKinleys were close friends with Garfield, a fellow Republican from Ohio. His death, along with the stresses of traveling and keeping up with William’s political life, caused Ida’s health to suffer. She went back to her “rest cure” and knitted slippers for the less fortunate. Knitting appeared to be a productive outlet for Ida, whose poor health limited her physical capabilities. For the next decade William ­ diligently built his political career as a ­congressman in Washington, while Ida quietly maintained her role as a supportive wife. Although her public speaking was limited, she actively endorsed women’s rights and the need to help people who were

struggling physically and financially. In addition to her social work, Ida wished to remain involved in her husband’s political concerns. She would always listen in on his conversations and would make sure to express her opinions to him on such topics as the tariff—they both agreed it was important “to protect our home industries” (Anthony, 2013). While McKinley was garnering national attention through his advocacy of tariffs in Congress, in the summer of 1888 Ida became ill and was forced to return to Canton, where she nearly died from a serious fever. William rushed home from Washington to be with her. Ida survived the ordeal, but her health was once again on the decline. In 1889 William was appointed head of the Ways and Means Committee, which allowed him to focus on getting a protectionist measure passed through Congress. On October 1, 1890, President Harrison signed the McKinley Bill into law. Despite the bill’s popularity, it was not enough to get him reelected to Congress later that year. He was defeated by his democratic opponent, who had gerrymandered districts in Ohio in order to win (Morgan, 2003). Not one to be held down by adversity, McKinley continued to enhance his political career and in 1891 he ran successfully for the governorship of Ohio. He and Ida lived in the Chittenden Hotel in Columbus, directly across the street from the state capitol building. Ida would sit at the window of her room every morning and wait for him to tip his hat to her from the steps of the capitol; in turn, she would wave a handkerchief, and they would repeat the ritual around midday (Herron, 2004). Despite her illness, Ida remained committed to fulfilling her role as governor’s wife by hosting parties; while compelled to be seated, she made sure to greet people from this position. In 1894, Governor McKinley’s secretary Charles Bawsel first reported on the practice of “bandaging” Ida in order to control her  muscle spasms and seizures. She was



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prescribed potassium, sodium, and more bromides designed to ease her symptoms (Anthony, 2013). In addition to medical treatments, Ida decided to keep her hair short, because the weight of long hair was strenuous on her head. During the election of 1896, the public was unaware of her illness, but the press was most definitely suspicious. The last thing William wanted was for the public to discover the truth about his wife’s poor health, so he attempted to keep her illness a secret by controlling her symptoms through medication, by “limiting her exposure” to the public, and by issuing press releases that dismissed the growing rumors (Anthony, 2013: 93–95). According to Anthony, the president “had to dose her with sedatives to ensure that there would be no risk of a seizure in ­public” (2013: 114). Tenure as First Lady At the National Republican Convention in June 1896, McKinley was nominated as the party’s candidate. In November, with the assistance of campaign advisor Mark Hanna and Ida, who joined him for appearances on their front porch, he was elected president, defeating Democrat William Jennings Bryan. From the very first day of McKinley’s presidency, Ida’s health was a topic of conversation. In Washington she fainted on Inauguration Day, in front of a crowd of onlookers and had to depart early. Her fainting spell was most likely caused by overexertion, but to some members of the press the incident reaffirmed the fact that she was a frail invalid. As one reporter stated: “Those who saw Mrs. McKinley during the inauguration ceremonies thought she was a stricken woman” (Anthony, 2013: 103). As a first lady, she was expected to fulfill the role of a supportive wife and hostess, but her disability forced her to approach the position differently from her recent predecessors. ­ Still, she organized social gatherings for

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­ oliticians and dignitaries, formed women’s p organizations, had the White House decorated with flowers, and would give her husband ­personal and political advice. She also spent much money and time on her clothes. When she was able, Ida loved to walk through the greenhouse, which had been expanded significantly since the Buchanan era when it was first built. She had it filled with lilies, roses, and other flowers. She disliked the color yellow, however, and demanded that no flowers of that color be planted on the property. Instead, fifteen gardeners filled the property with blue blooms, Ida’s favorite color. Many photographs of Ida at the White House feature her sitting in one of the gardens, surrounded by her flowers and in fashionable dresses. The public witnessed Ida’s fashion firsthand during the inauguration, when she wore a white satin dress with diamonds. On March 5, the Washington Evening Star described Ida’s lavish inaugural garb thus: “Mrs. McKinley wore a superb costume of white satin brocaded in a rich design. The material was so elegant that it needed little trimming, and this was entirely of lace” (Anonymous, 1897: 10). Ida demonstrated her sense of fashion during dinner parties and other social gatherings. By all accounts, her attire was always extravagant. She was fond of lace, diamonds, and bonnets. She was able to maintain this expensive lifestyle thanks to her father’s wealth and through the support of her husband’s wealthy friends (Fallows, 1901). Although first ladies are often expected to be fashion icons, Ida may have overemphasized her style because her poor health made it difficult for her to fulfill other hostessing responsibilities, such as directly greeting guests in reception lines. Instead of standing and shaking the hands of each guest, she sat propped up in a velvet‐blue chair with pillows and held flowers. Her style of hosting parties was designed to limit the strain on her body (Herron, 2004). However, her focus on eye‐catching clothes did not fit her

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status as an invalid, some thought. Ellen Slayden, wife of a congressman, described Ida at a dinner party: The first glimpse made me ashamed of coming … Her color was ghastly, and it was wicked to have dressed her in bright blue velvet with a front of hard white satin spangled with gold … She shook hands with us lightly, but did not speak. (Caroli, 1995: 112)

After hosting dinners, Ida and William enjoyed cards, playing the piano, and ­reading Bible verses. While socializing with personal friends, Ida occasionally had seizures. In response, William sometimes ­ placed a handkerchief or a piece of cloth over her face until the ordeal stopped, and, as William H. Taft once wrote, “not a word was said about the incident by anybody in the room.” Guests understood the ­situation, so they mirrored the president’s response. Contrary to later accounts, President McKinley never covered Ida’s face in front of the general public. The incidents only occurred around close friends, and there are only four known firsthand accounts (Anthony, 2013: 197–198). On October 8, 1898, Ida received the news that her brother George had been shot to death not far from the Saxton House in Canton. George and Ida were not close. His lack of ambition and professional success left him financially destitute for most of his adult life, and he constantly had to borrow money from the presidential couple. Unbeknownst to Ida, George had had an affair with a married woman, Anna George, who became the prime suspect in his murder, though she was never convicted (Traxel, 2009). Ida attended his funeral, but by most accounts she seemed little troubled by this event (Anthony, 2013). Less than two months before George’s murder, the Spanish–American War ended. The war only lasted for about three months, but in that time the United States had taken

such Spanish possessions as Guam and Puerto Rico; Cuba would become a protectorate. Philippine leaders, however, were resisting the American annexation, as they desired to be independent. Ida took a strong interest in the Philippines. According to Colonel Benjamin F. Montgomery, a White House aide, she was instrumental in convincing her husband to keep the islands. After reading an article in the October 1898 issue of The Century magazine, which described native Filipinos as “pagan,” Ida convinced her husband of the moral obligation to Christianize the country: she seemed to believe that American Protestants would succeed where Spanish Catholics had not (Anthony, 2013). She was hardly alone in taking this view, of course. Unfortunately the takeover of the Filipino people resulted in a three‐year‐long rebellion and in thousands of deaths (Tucker, 2009). Ida may have meant well, but her approach was a narrow and ethnocentric one, with devastating results. If she lacked a broad perspective on the Filippino people and their aims, there was no doubt that Ida showed sympathy toward struggling Americans. She donated over three thousand and five hundred slippers that she crocheted to charities (Leffler, 2001). Given her abolitionist background, it is not surprising that she made efforts to reach out to blacks as well (Anthony, 2013). She did not segregate White House guests, and she routinely invited African–Americans to receptions and gatherings; her guests included for example Frances Joseph– Gaudet, leader of the Women’s Christian Temperance Union (Anthony, 2013). In December 1898, only three days after the signing of the Treaty of Paris, which officially ended the Spanish–American War, Ida and William took time to visit the Tuskegee Normal and Industrial Institute while touring the South. The African–American institution was holding a parade for its students, and Ida made sure to be in attendance. Soon after, Congress passed a bill that bestowed



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25,000 acres of land to the Institute. Its founder, Booker T. Washington, claimed that McKinley’s support had been essential (Harlan and Smock, 1977). Of course, Washington’s approach of accommodating prevalent white prejudice suggests that there may have been limits to McKinley’s emancipatory views for African–Americans during this era of Jim Crow. Nevertheless, Ida interacted with other major civil rights activists from the turn of the twentieth century, whose legacy has been more positive. During the Women’s Suffrage Association Convention of 1900 in Washington, DC, she had a private meeting with women’s rights leader Susan B. Anthony that turned into a friendship (Anthony, 2013). In a letter from 1902, Susan Anthony thanked Ida for sending her a pair of slippers and expressed gratitude for Ida’s reading of her collection of writings entitled Life and Work, telling her: “You will rejoice over the progress woman has made in the last twenty years” (Harper, 1908). In addition to political and social matters, Ida concerned herself with official military personnel decisions. In a 1901 letter to former first lady Julia Grant, President McKinley informed the widow that her son, Frederick D. Grant, would be promoted brigadier general of the regular army. McKinley wrote: “I just told Mrs. McKinley a great secret, and she says I must tell you at once which I do, only requesting that you will receive it in confidence, until I make it public … Permit Mrs. McKinley and myself to be the first to congratulate you” (manuscript, Ulysses S. Grant Collection, Ulysses S. Grant Presidential Library, Mississippi State University). Ida was also influential in the rise of Theodore Roosevelt, who was kind to her. In September 1897, as the Cuban crisis was developing, Ida invited Roosevelt to the White House to discuss military and political matters, and he made a great impression on the first lady. In March 1900, Roosevelt, then governor of New York, attended a

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dinner with the presidential couple at New York’s Waldorf‐ Astoria Hotel. Rumors about Roosevelt’s nomination as McKinley’s vice president began to spread; McKinley’s first vice president, Garret Augustus Hobart, had died the previous November. Roosevelt publicly dismissed the reports, but in June  he was nominated at the Republican National Convention. Two months later he went to the White House and gave Ida framed oval photographs of herself, the president, and their late daughter Katie (Anthony, 2013). In November 1900, McKinley was elected to a second term with Roosevelt at his side, once again defeating William Jennings Bryan. After the inauguration, the couple decided to take another trip out west. They stopped in Tennessee, Mississippi, Louisiana, Texas, and eventually traveled to San Francisco. While aboard a boat sailing up the Mississippi River, without her husband’s knowledge, Ida granted a reporter a rare interview in which she directly referred to herself as an invalid—a condition the president would not have wanted her to acknowledge; but, once the second election was out of the way, Ida may have considered it not only safe to mention but also increasingly accurate. Still, her adventures continued. On May 6, while in El Paso, Texas, she was invited to a luncheon across the border in Juarez, Mexico. She gladly accepted and became the first sitting first lady to travel to a foreign country (Anthony, 2013). As the couple made their way through the Southwest, Ida accidentally cut her thumb. Dr. Presley Rixey, the chief of the navy’s Bureau of Medicine and Surgery, quickly cleaned the wound. However, by the time they made it to California, Ida’s thumb was infected. The infection weakened her immune system, which caused her to contract dysentery and a fever. The illness quickly spread through her body and, when they made it to San Francisco, Dr. Rixey feared she would die. Yet after meticulous treatment she made a full recovery, and on

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May 24 the presidential couple traveled back toward Washington, stopping in Canton for the summer (Anthony, 2013). Meanwhile William was making plans for the two of them to attend the Pan‐American Exposition in Buffalo, New York. She was reluctant to go but did not question her husband’s desires. On September 4, the couple arrived in Buffalo. For the next two days they visited the exhibits, which consisted of displays of art and science from various parts of the world. On September 6, the president made an appearance at the Temple of Music building in order to shake hands with visitors. One of the patrons was a steel mill worker and anarchist named Leon Czolgosz; he had a bandage around his hand concealing a pistol. When Czolgosz approached the president, he fired two shots at him, wounding him mortally. Ida was not present when the incident occurred. It was reported that the president told his men: “My wife, be careful how you tell her—oh, be careful” (Herron, 2004: 35). For the next eight days the president’s fate hung in the balance. Ida constantly stayed by her husband’s side. The doctors and Ida’s loved ones thought that she would not be able to handle the mental anguish, but, surprisingly, she stayed strong. Sadly, on the early morning of September 14, President McKinley died. His last words were about his wife. He worried: “What will become of her?” (Anthony, 2013: 259). During the funeral procession, which went from Buffalo to Washington and finally to Canton, she never left her husband’s body; she did not move from it until it was interred. After McKinley’s assassination, Ida did not make any public appearance for over two years—or until December 1903, when she attended a family wedding and a musical performance. Her love of the arts was strong enough to encourage her to attend more theatrical performances after this, but she mostly preferred to be alone. As an independent but introverted widow—and a physically challenged one at that—her

activities consisted mostly of visits to her husband’s grave, knitting, and light gardening. In August 1904, nearly thirty‐one years after the death of Ida’s first born, life became much more bearable. Her niece Ida Barber Day gave birth to a girl named Katie. According to all accounts, Ida was enthralled by the presence of her grandniece. She watched Katie grow for the first few months of her life while living in Canton. However, after Katie and her parents moved to Washington, Ida’s outlook turned negative. She attempted to stay busy, but could not mask the depression she felt during her final years. Strangely, after her husband’s death she never suffered from another seizure. Ida McKinley passed away on May 26, 1907. It was reported that she died of a brain tumor as a result of her epilepsy, but she actually passed from complications resulting from a severe case of bronchitis. After the construction and dedication of a mausoleum in Canton, the presidential couple was finally reunited again (Anthony, 2013). The Historiography of Ida McKinley The first century of Ida McKinley ­scholarship mainly focused on one thing: her disability. Historians often described her as a helpless victim of an illness that ruined her chances of a happy and productive life. They rarely considered what she accomplished as first lady, emphasizing instead her perceived physical and mental troubles. Some historians even described her personality as brash and self‐centered and claimed that her ­illness compromised her husband’s abilities to act efficiently as president. In defense of these early biographers, it should be said that they did not fully understand Ida’s disease. Furthermore, historians unfairly compared her to other first ladies of her time. But, as the American social climate changed, so did the historical



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narrative on Ida. At the turn of the twenty‐ first century, historians started to examine her life in its entirety—and not just from the perspective of a frail and weak victim. The first biography of Ida McKinley appeared during the presidential campaign of 1896 and was written by her close childhood friend Josiah Hartzell. The booklet, entitled Sketch of the Life of Mrs. William McKinley, was published by the Home Magazine Press (see Hartzell, 1896). Its purpose was to inform the public about her past and to quell the gossip about her ­illness. Hartzell was impressed with her paternal heritage, her faith, and her devotion to her husband. However, the brief biography does not mention her relationship with John Wright. As for her illness, Hartzell attributed it to the loss of her mother and two daughters. He stated: “If more kindly stars could only have beamed upon the destiny of these children, and upon her own life, what a world of sorrow might have been averted and how great might have been her joy!” (1896: 22). Although the booklet left out important details of Ida’s life, it effectively shaped her image as a faithful and loving wife. In 1901 Murat Halstead, a journalist and author, wrote Life and Distinguished Services of William McKinley, Our Martyr President. In it he described Ida as a “strong young woman” whose illness was caused by the loss of her loved ones. Once again, the author justified Ida’s character through the strength of her paternal lineage, an attitude that reflects the sexism of the time (Halstead, 1901). Halstead then diverged from this narrative and delineated Ida’s illness as a burden to her husband. He argued that “McKinley’s Washington life was not a very social one. A man of his industry and studious habits had little time for the frivolities of society. Then his wife’s health would not permit him to enter therein” (1901: 68). This narrative, which painted William McKinley as a husband who sacrificed his life for his sick wife, set the foundation of Ida McKinley scholarship for years to come.

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For almost one hundred years to follow, the only examinations made of Ida McKinley were part of biographies and books devoted to William McKinley or to the history of first ladies. There were no independent definitive examinations of Ida. In Charles S. Olcott’s (1916) biography entitled American Stateman: William McKinley, the courtship and marriage between Ida and William are presented in the typical male‐centered fashion perpetuated by historians of the early twentieth century. It depicts her as a faithful and subservient wife, herself descended from some of Ohio’s greatest men. Olcott described her paternal ancestry in exquisite detail, but only dedicated approximately two sentences to her mother, Kate, and that in the flowery style often reserved for treatments of women a century ago. He wrote: “He (James Saxton) married, in 1846, Miss Kate Dewalt, whose parents were also among the oldest settlers in Canton. Nature had endowed her with the graces of a sweet and lovely womanhood, as more than one of the older residents have testified” (Olcott, 1916: 66). It wasn’t until 1959 that biographer Margaret Leech included a relatively extensive examination of Ida in her Pulitzer Prize‐ winning book In the Days of McKinley. The first chapter, dedicated to William and Ida’s relationship, analyzed the real reason behind her illness and the effect it had on her husband. Her study was completed during a period in American history when the role of women was still largely that of a dedicated housewife. Leech extensively described Ida as a well‐educated yet “feeble, self‐centered nervous invalid” (Leech, 1959: 17). She also questioned Ida’s abilities as first lady, stating: “She was entirely incapable of assuming the social obligations of the White House” (1959: 32). Yet Ida was able to ­partially take on these tasks, by arranging dinner parties and greeting guests and ­dignitaries from her chair—something that Leech overlooks. It is worth mentioning that the “napkin over the face” tale also appears regularly in scholarship as well as in

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fiction, as a commonplace occurrence (Leffler, 2001; Vidal, 2011). In Lewis L. Gould’s (1980) The Presidency of William McKinley, Ida is barely m ­ entioned. Throughout the entire book she gets only five pages. Gould depicts her in the same way her early biographers did: an invalid who did not contribute much during her time in the White House. He mentions the wedding, her illness, her early departure from the social events during McKinley’s first inauguration (he fails to give a reason for her leaving that day), William’s sacrifice in helping Ida, and her near‐death experience during their trip to California in 1901. Gould’s lack of detail about Ida may perhaps be chalked up to the book’s focus on William McKinley’s actions as president. Later on Gould edited American First Ladies: Their Lives and Their Legacy, which features a chapter on Ida written by historian John J. Leffler (see Leffler, 2001). This account was perhaps the most objective examination up to that point. Leffler effectively detailed Ida’s influence on Washington’s social and fashion scene as first lady. In addition, he thoroughly expounded on every aspect of Ida’s life, from her earliest days until her death in 1907. In 1995 first daughter and historian Margaret Truman and historian Betty B. Caroli each published books that addressed the topic of Ida McKinley as first lady. Perhaps unexpectedly, the two books authored by these women portray Ida in the most negative way possible. Truman’s (1996) First Ladies: An Intimate Group Portrait of White House Wives barely mentions Ida. While the book is presented as a scholarly source on first ladies, Truman dismisses Ida in just three sentences and crassly describes her as “Epileptic Ida.” Ida McKinley is also associated with a very different first lady, Mary Lincoln, and unfairly compared to another, Jackie Kennedy, in a misogynistic analysis: Imagine, for a moment, what might have happened if Jackie had simply collapsed, like wives of other assassinated presidents.

Mary Lincoln became hysterical and stayed that way for the rest of her life. Epileptic Ida McKinley was the least visible first lady in our history and remained an absent blank when her husband was gunned down in 1901. Fortunately, there were strong men ready to take charge of the nation, without their help. (Truman, 1996: 44).

Betty B. Caroli may have perpetuated an even bigger injustice toward Ida in the expanded version of her book First Ladies: An Intimate Look at How 38 Women Handled What May be the Most Demanding, Unpaid, Unelected Job in America (Caroli, 1995). The chapter focusing on Ida was a seven‐page critique that demonized her, all the while praising Mary B. Bryan, the wife of two‐time losing presidential candidate William Jennings Bryan. There Caroli described Ida as “ineffectual” and stated that her role “seemed to demand no more than a doll‐like figure propped up against some cushions.” Mary B. Bryan, by contrast, was “remarkable” (Caroli, 1995: 109–115). Caroli dedicated more pages to Bryan, who was never first lady, than to Ida. Ida also fails to live up to Caroli’s expectations in that, in her view, effective first ladies who served during the late nineteenth century encapsulated the post‐Civil War idea of the “New Woman,” a well‐educated, outspoken reformer, with strong opinions on issues and a unique identity. But Caroli’s evaluation overlooks the earlier history of Mrs. McKinley—a well‐educated woman who had long been interested in reform! At the beginning of the twenty‐first century a new approach to Ida McKinley scholarship emerged. Newer studies no longer typecast Ida as simply a subservient, self‐ centered wife who used her illness to keep the attention of her husband. Instead, ­scholars began to search for the actual cause of her illness and to understand her life and accomplishments in context. The first real historical medical examination of Ida was published in the March 2000



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issue of the Southern Medical Journal. The article, entitled “The Epilepsy of Ida McKinley,” was co‐authored by three medical professionals, John C. DeToledo, Bruno B. DeToledo, and Merredith Lowe (2000). This study examined early reports of Ida’s seizures and illness and tried to infer the actual cause on the basis of her symptoms and actions, as these were described by people and doctors close to her. The study concluded that most of Ida’s problems appeared to arise from a “central nervous system (CNS) injury, possibly involving her left frontal lobe.” However, some of her other symptoms appeared to be psychosomatic. The authors explained: Mrs. McKinley’s “other ailments,” however, are not all explained by the CNS injury. Many of her other attacks had overtones of epileptic attacks but were distinct from her usual stiffening–hissing seizures … She had a number of events that did not fit the descriptions and were more suggestive of non‐epileptic events. These events were often dramatic and usually occurred when Mrs. McKinley was separated from the President. Atypical events were also reported during social gatherings when the President got too distracted talking to someone else, often a female, and did not pay enough attention to her. (DeToledo et al., 2000: 270)

These findings have helped Ida scholars truly understand the reason behind her ­illness by providing a sound medical examination of her life. In Molly M. Wertheimer’s book Inventing a Voice: The Rhetoric of American First Ladies of the Twentieth Century, Nancy L. Herron (2004) wrote a chapter on Ida McKinley that included a brief biography, a description of her rhetorical activities as first lady, and her legacy. In the biographical section Herron effectively summarized Ida’s early successes and described her as an “intelligent, vivacious, and well‐educated young woman” (Herron, 2004: 31). She

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also pointed out the paradox presented by the contrast between her early and later life. As in Caroli’s approach, Herron compared Ida to the wife of Williams’s main political opponent, Mary Bryan. The main difference between the two comparisons is that Herron did not weigh one more favorably than the other; instead she briefly examined how journalists perceived the two women. In addition, Herron also showed that Ida and William’s relationship was not one‐ sided. She revealed how both relied on each other for emotional support. She notes, too, Ida’s vision of William’s potential as a politician at a time when most people doubted his abilities as a leader. As for Mrs. McKinley’s activities as first lady, Herron paints a picture of a woman who was determined to overcome her illness in order to serve in the White House. Herron (2004: 37) states: “Mrs. McKinley wanted to play the social role of first lady, accompanying her husband on all of his official duties.” Herron also points out the lack of “written or oral communications” by Ida and how historians must unearth her private conversations with politicians, military leaders, and civil rights leaders if they are to understand her influence over her husband. Herron took her examination a step further than any biographer up to that point. She detailed Ida’s actions and how the public reacted to them, and she successfully communicated Ida’s conviction and resolve. Perhaps the most definitive and authoritative biography to date is historian Carl Sferrazza Anthony’s (2013) Ida McKinley: The Turn of the Century First Lady through War, Assassination, and Disability. No other source has examined Ida’s entire life. Building on his prior examinations of Ida, Anthony created a refreshing account, with much attention to detail, placing her illness in a broader perspective. While previous biographies focused on the early part of Ida’s life, up until the assassination of her husband, Anthony is the first biographer to thoroughly examine her post‐White House

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life. He meticulously detailed how she spent her time and how she held up emotionally as the widow of a murdered president. There is no doubt that his book will define the narrative of Ida’s life for years to come. As this brief discussion has shown, ­historians have typically characterized Ida as a merely disabled woman and have erroneously compared her to other first ladies; but this limited narrative does not fully capture Ida’s character. The story of Ida McKinley is a multifaceted one of hope, happiness, and success, overshadowed by illness, death, and sorrow. Her journey led her down paths not available to most women of her time, and she never passed on an opportunity to grow as a person. She was aware of her limits, both mental and physical, yet she always adapted in order to make the best of the situation, for herself as well as for her husband. After the death of her children and William’s political success, she showed strength and determination to fulfill her role as a public figure and as an influential first lady. And, finally, she courageously ­displayed resilience after the assassination of her beloved William. Through all of the struggles in her life, Ida McKinley undoubtedly exuded tenacity. Her interests in reform, her education, her professional work, and her infirmities and medical treatment when set against the background of her era (which was one of great changes for women)—all present interesting avenues for future research.

References Anonymous. 1897. “A Brilliant Inaugural Ball.” The Evening Star, March 5. Anthony, C. 2013. Ida McKinley: The Turn of the Century First Lady through War, Assassination, and Secret Disability. Kent, OH: Kent State University Press. Caroli, B. B. 1995. First Ladies, rev. edn. New York: Oxford University Press. Clinton, C., and C. Lunardini. 2000. The Columbia Guide to American Women in the Nineteenth Century. New York: Columbia University Press.

DeToledo, J., B. B. DeToledo, and M. Lowe. 2000. “The Epilepsy of First Lady Ida Saxton McKinley.” Southern Medical Journal 93 (3): 267–271. Fallows, S. 1901. Life of William McKinley: Our Martyred President. Chicago: Regan Printing House. Gould, L. 1980. The Presidency of William McKinley. Lawrence: University Press of Kansas. Gowers, W. 1881. Epilepsy and Other Chronic Convulsive Diseases: Their Causes, Symptoms, and Treatments. London: J. & A. Churchill. Halstead, M. 1901. Life and Distinguished Services of William McKinley, Our Martyr President, together with an Account of the President’s Death and Burial, by A. J. Munson, memorial edn. [Chicago]: Memorial Association. Harlan, L., and R. Smock. 1977. The Booker T. Washington Papers, vol. 5. Urbana: University of Illinois Press. Harper, I. 1908. The Life and Work of Susan B. Anthony, vol. 3. Indianapolis: Hollenbeck Press. Hartzell, J. 1896. Sketch of the Life of Mrs. William McKinley. Washington, DC: Home Magazine Press. Heineman, S. 1996. Timelines of American Women’s History. New York: Berkeley Publishing Group. Herron, N. 2004. “Ida Saxton McKinley.” In Inventing a Voice: The Rhetoric of American First Ladies of the Twentieth Century, edited by M. M. Wertheimer, 31–43. Lanham, MD: Rowman and Littlefield. Leech, M. 1959. In the Days of McKinley. New York: Harper & Brothers. Leffler, J. 2001. “Ida Saxton McKinley: 1847– 1907.” In American First Ladies: Their Lives and Their Legacy, edited by L. L. Gould, 183– 195. New York: Routledge. Mitchell, S. 1872. Injuries of Nerves and Their Consequences. Philadelphia: J. B. Lippincott. Morgan, H. 2003. William McKinley and His America. Kent, OH: Kent State University Press. Morris, J. 2014. Oberlin, Hotbed of Abolitionism: College, Community, and the Fight for Freedom and Equality in Antebellum America. Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press. Olcott, C. 1916. American Statesman: William McKinley, vol. 1. Boston: Houghton Mifflin. Robertson, S. 2010. Hearts Beating for Liberty: Women Abolitionists in the Old Northwest. Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press.



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Schneider, D., and C. J. Schneider. 2010. First Ladies: A Biographical Dictionary. New York: Facts on File. Traxel, D. 2009. 1898: The Birth of the American Century. New York: Vintage Books. Truman, M. 1996. First Ladies: An Intimate Group Portrait of White House Wives. New York: Ballantine Books. Tucker, S. 2009. The Encyclopedia of the Spanish– American and Philippine–American Wars. Santa Barbara, CA: ABC‐CLIO. Vidal, G. 2011. Empire: A Novel. New York: Knopf Doubleday.

Further Reading Anthony, C. 1990. First Ladies: The Saga of the Presidents’ Wives and Their Power, 1789–1961. New York: William Morrow. Bassett, M. 1969. Profiles and Portraits of American Presidents and Their Wives. Freeport, ME: Wheelwright.

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Belden, H. 1985. Grand Tour of Ida Saxton McKinley and Sister Mary Barber, 1869. Canton, OH: Reserve Printing. Boller, P. 1988. Presidential Wives. New York: Oxford University Press. Hay, P. 1988. All the Presidents’ Ladies: Anecdotes of the Women behind the Men in the White House. New York: Viking. Healy, D. 1988. America’s First Ladies: Private Lives of the Presidential Wives, 1789–1989. New York: Athenaeum. Jones, S. 1964. The Presidential Election of 1896. Madison: University of Wisconsin Press. Melick, A. 1972. Wives of the Presidents. Maplewood, NJ: Hammond. Myron Timothy Herrick Papers. 1889–1906. Correspondence from Ida and William McKinley. Cleveland, OH: Western Reserve Historical Society Collections. William McKinley Papers. 1895–1901. Correspondence (Series E). Washington, DC: Library of Congress, Manuscript Division.

Chapter Eighteen

Edith Kermit Carow Roosevelt: The Victorian Modern First Lady Catherine Forslund

Like all first ladies, Edith Roosevelt was overshadowed by her presidential husband; but few such husbands were like the frenetic Theodore Roosevelt. While Theodore pre­ sided over the United States’ entry onto the world stage, expanded national parks, and busted trusts, Edith did not exactly stand still. She brought the position of first lady into the modern era by professiona­ lizing it and was also one of the first to emphasize the role’s potential for fostering the arts—even as she affirmed the tradi­ tional hostess duties of the first lady and hewed to a model of so‐called “Victorian” morality. Despite having her contributions mostly overshadowed by her husband’s, Edith’s place in the history of US first ladies is particularly noteworthy on account of her creating the office of the first lady and defining a more official, formalized role for the president’s spouse. Indeed, Edith’s role in transforming the position of first lady into an institution is as significant for the evolution and modernization of first ladies as Theodore’s role in advancing the United States as a global power was for American foreign relations after the opening of the twentieth century.

Developing the role of presidential spouse beyond that of wife, mother, and hostess of the White House was a job for which Edith Roosevelt was well suited but that she was not eager to accept. Theodore was more outgoing than she was and, while he reveled in the national attention his career garnered, she would have gladly remained at Sagamore Hill (their home in Oyster Bay, Long Island) surrounded by family and books. However, being the embodiment of a dutiful, upper‐class Victorian wife, Edith supported Theodore’s endeavors, earning recognition from his friends and confidants for her advice and guidance. Edith’s life revolved around her family—first the one she was born into, then the one she created with Theodore. Her “interior” life with him is less well known and much harder to discern than that of her husband—a discrepancy due to  his prolific written legacy. Yet luckily there are abundant primary sources for the patient scholar in numerous collec­ tions, as will be detailed in a later section of this chapter. Drawing on a wide range of primary and secondary materials, the following pages

A Companion to First Ladies, First Edition. Edited by Katherine A. S. Sibley. © 2016 John Wiley & Sons, Inc. Published 2016 by John Wiley & Sons, Inc.



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will offer an exploration and assessment of Edith’s life: her youth and marriage to Theodore and their large family, her ­important contributions to the post of first lady on many fronts, and the adventurous and sometimes tragic periods in the decades of her widowhood. The chapter will then conclude with an overview of ­historiography that incorporates discussion of the ­leading biographies and of the available primary resources for research. As the material exam­ ined will suggest, there remain many fruitful avenues to explore in Edith Roosevelt’s life and role as first lady.

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Although the sisters were never terribly close, they remained in contact throughout their lives, and the letters they exchanged form perhaps the largest body of Edith‐­ written material for historical review. Edith’s early friendship with Corinne Roosevelt brought her into the Roosevelt family’s orbit in mid‐nineteenth century Manhattan. Bookish and quiet, Edith ­discovered that Corinne’s brother Theodore shared her love of literature and poetry; and she often accompanied the Roosevelt family to Long Island to escape the city’s summer heat. Edith joined the kindergarten “class” taught by the Roosevelt children’s aunt in their home, and in 1871 Edith, Corinne, Edith Rising and other daughters of New York’s well‐to‐do families enrolled at the Comstock Edith Kermit Carow knew Theodore School in Manhattan. That completed her Roosevelt almost her whole life. A ­childhood schooling—at least to the level of what was story described President Abraham Lincoln’s socially acceptable for upper‐class women of funeral procession moving up Broadway in the Civil War generation. Like most of her New York City in 1865. The grim cortege contemporaries, Edith had no apparent passed beneath the balcony of Cornelius aspirations for higher education; she had Van Schaak Roosevelt’s mansion, where his books for knowledge and companionship. grandsons and their sister’s friend Edith When Theodore went off to Harvard in Carow stood as spectators. When the fall of 1875, he and Edith kept in touch. four‐year‐old Edith was upset by the somber As many scholars have noted, they had some music and dark mood of the scene below, sort of “break” in their friendship in August six‐year‐old Theodore and his younger 1878 (Goodwin, 2013: 121; Morris, 1980: brother Elliot banished her from the ­balcony 59–59; Brands, 1997: 102–103; Cordery, (Morris, 1980: 1–2 and 514–515). Despite 2007: 7–8; and Caroli, 1998: 190–191). this painful childhood episode, Edith Eight years later Theodore remembered remained part of Theodore’s life until that he and Edith “had very intimate rela­ its end. tions; [but] one day there came a break for Edith was born in Norwich, Connecticut, both of us had, and I suppose have, tempers on August 6, 1861. Her mother, Gertrude that were far from being of the best” Elizabeth Tyler, was a descendant of the (quoted in Dalton, 2002: 70). Edith well‐known Great Awakening preacher recounted Theodore’s multiple proposals of Jonathan Edwards; and the family’s fortunes marriage to her that year and her refusal of derived from ironworks in seventeenth‐­ each. The most commonly expressed expla­ century England (Morris, 1980: 12–13). nation is the one offered by Corinne, which Her father, Charles Carow, was the eldest reveals their dying father’s concerns about son of a family well established in the ship­ alcoholism in the Carow family that might ping trade; and the family lived in Manhattan. have triggered a “clash of tempers” Edith was the Carows’ second child—their (Goodwin, 2013: 121). Whatever the details first died at six months of age—and a sister, of this argument, in that autumn of 1878 Emily, followed four and a half years later. Theodore went back to Harvard to an even

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busier social life, during which he met Alice Hathaway Lee. They were engaged by January 1880 and married in Boston in October. In attendance and dancing among the wedding guests was Edith Carow. Edith certainly knew of Alice Roosevelt’s pregnancy and expected delivery in February 1884. Theodore was in Albany as a member of the New York State Assembly when he received one telegram announcing the baby’s birth, then a second one advising of dangerous complications for Alice. He raced from Albany to Manhattan. Edith was part of the family circle tickled by the birth of Theodore and Alice’s daughter, then devas­ tated just two days later when Theodore’s mother died at home of typhoid. Alice’s death that same afternoon, from Bright’s disease (a kidney ailment), was another blow. Theodore was so grief‐stricken that he asked his oldest sister Anna to take care of his new infant daughter, also named Alice. He returned to Albany, finished out the ­legislative session, then left for the western United States to escape his sorrows. But on an autumn visit back to New York in 1885 Theodore and Edith reconnected. Their courtship resulted in a secret engagement in early 1886. Secrecy was important because Theodore heartily believed in the Victorian custom against hasty remarriage out of honor for a deceased spouse (Brands, 1997: 195). It was less than two years since Alice’s death, and appearances were important in such matters. Charles Carow’s death in 1883 at the age of fifty‐eight from complications of alcohol­ ism left a legacy of difficulties for his widow and daughters, compelling their move to Europe in 1886 in order to maintain the lifestyle of a wealthy American family. Edith and Theodore decided that Edith should go to Europe with them, while he returned to the Dakota Territory to decide his future: politician, writer, or rancher. Contact between the betrothed was through letters, though only one has survived. In it Edith expressed much of herself: the intellectual

who discussed literature and art; the roman­ tic who loved Theodore “with all the pas­ sion of a girl who has never loved before”; the fashionable lady who described her “entrancing” new hat; the modest woman who “never used to think much about [her] looks”; the supportive helpmeet who inquired about his writing; and the tourist who detailed their escapades in London (Morris, 1980: 84–88). The loss of so much more of their correspondence (at Edith’s own hand) is incalculable. Without it, their decision to marry abroad remains unillumi­ nated. However, it is certain that a foreign wedding drew less attention than one in Manhattan. On Theodore’s Atlantic voyage to marry Edith in London, he met Cecil Spring‐Rice, a young British diplomat known as “Springy.” The men hit it off, remaining lifelong friends, and Springy was Theodore’s best man. Springy thought that Theodore was “exotically intriguing,” and he grew fond of Edith as well (Brands, 1997: 203). Spring‐Rice’s cultured and gentlemanly qualities intrigued her in turn, and their cor­ respondence revealed literature and music as common interests. Edith and Theodore’s intimately sized wedding, held in St. George’s Hanover Square Church on December 2, 1886, was followed by a break­ fast and the newlyweds’ rapid departure for a European honeymoon. They eventually joined Gertrude and Emily in Italy, where Edith’s mother and sister were living perma­ nently. For the rest of their lives, which were quiet and a bit sad, they were an anchor on Edith’s life, as she continued to worry about their health and welfare. The Roosevelts’ ship docked in New York in late March 1887. The disposition of young Alice (aged three by then) was ­obvious to Edith. She insisted upon Alice’s living with them and calling her “Mother”— both decisions that Theodore was unwilling to oppose. A short time later, Alice left to visit her maternal grandparents at Chestnut Hill in Boston. This semi‐annual pilgrimage



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was a routine for Alice until she became an adult; she spent several weeks with the Lees, where they lavished a­ ttention on their dead daughter’s namesake and where Alice was immersed in her mother’s legacy. Upon her return, Alice moved into Sagamore Hill with Edith and Theodore. That became the fam­ ily’s homestead, their haven and refuge, the summer White House from 1902 to 1908, and the place of family hope, joy, and despair for the rest of their lives. Edith’s quiet manner of running the household was very effective. According to Amy Cheney, who worked for Theodore as a secretary at Sagamore right after the Spanish–American War, Edith “[did] things without making any noise about it. It wasn’t so much the things she did; it was the effect her presence had on [everyone].” She never seemed to raise her voice, or give an order, but let no one think she was not alert to what was going on! … The whole atmosphere seemed one of order and harmony. (Hagedorn, 1954: 67–68)

The family grew with the birth of Theodore Junior (Ted) on September 13, 1887. After that, Edith brought in Mary Ledwith (“Mame”), the Irish nurse who raised her and Emily, and later raised all the Roosevelts’ children as well. Theodore enjoyed his home life and his family but, as was his wont, went off two months after Ted’s birth for a Dakota Badlands hunting trip. Such absences were part of their lives together and something Edith endured. She subordinated her needs and preferences to those of her husband and family, as was expected of a woman of her day. The strain of doing so—along with four more children in the decade after Ted—was likely one cause of the frequent headaches she suffered throughout much of her adult life, which sometimes caused her to relinquish her duties to the servants and stay in bed. Her preference for the quiet life had to accommodate Theodore’s love of politics.

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After he campaigned for republican presi­ dential candidate Benjamin Harrison in 1888, his reward was an appointment to the  three‐member federal Civil Service Commission. In December 1889, Edith set up the family in their rented home in Washington with Alice, Ted, and newborn Kermit—the first of many such moves. Roosevelt served on the Commission for six years, while Edith took the household to Sagamore Hill every summer and bore two more children, Ethel Carow in August 1891 and Archibald Bulloch in April 1894, before Theodore’s next political appointment. To all her children, Edith was a stern but loving mother in the Victorian manner of “spare the rod and spoil the child.” Rather than the corporal punishment that this implies, ­however, stern looks and disapproval were her common reprimands. In Washington, Edith and Theodore made friendships with long‐time Washing­ tonians such as Henry Adams, John Hay, and Henry Cabot Lodge and their wives. Edith and Theodore went riding with Lodge quite often, and she wrote of it in her diary. She cherished Henry Adams in particular. He later described her as “a ­ charmingly simple and sympathetic White House head; the first, I think, in history” (Gould, 2013: 36). Sympathetic she may have been, but maintenance of two homes—the rented house in Washington (and successive homes in the nation’s capital) and Sagamore Hill, which also included farmland—was not sim­ ple in the sense the word implies now. Edith started an account book in 1889, keeping it steadily until 1917, including the White House years. The ledgers are still housed at Sagamore Hill, now administered by the National Park Service. Edith took pride in her abilities as manager and administrator, embodying the American Victorian ideal for a proper wife of her class. On April 17, 1895, Theodore was appointed a member of the New York City Police Commission, a job well suited to his

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boundless energy and moral certitude. His work resulted in long hours, including late‐night patrols seeking out corrupt policemen and criminals. Edith and the children spent more and more time with ­ him in the city from January 1896 on, and they—in the manner of the Gilded Age American family, through their presence— provided comfort for the weary father after his toils. However, the 1896 presidential election changed the family’s circum­ stances once more when the new republican president, William McKinley, appointed ­ Theodore assistant secretary of the navy, which necessitated a return to Washington in October 1897. Their last child, Quentin, was born just weeks later, in early November. Edith devel­ oped an abdominal abscess after the birth, which resulted in four months of illness and ultimately required surgery. In mid‐ February, when Edith’s health was still very precarious, the USS Maine blew up in Havana harbor, killing 266 Americans, and by April war was inevitable. Theodore Roosevelt was about to find a new outlet for his talents that would make him a house­ hold name. Scholars have suggested any number of reasons for a widespread enthusiasm for war; thus Kristin Hoganson has emphasized an element of male gender anxiety—for which “Strenuous Life,” the title of a speech delivered by Theodore Roosevelt in Chicago in 1899, would serve as key evidence (Hoganson, 1998). That speech assigned to American men, women, and children sharply defined gender roles, and tasks befitting them. But the assistant secretary had other reasons for wanting to join the fight him­ self—such as the Spanish government’s backward treatment of Cuba: “Spain attempted to govern her colonies on archaic principles which rendered her control of them incompatible with the advance of humanity and intolerable to the conscience of mankind” (Roosevelt, 1975: 463–464). Edith too supported the war and wrote to

her sister Emily: “though I fear and dread war I feel the freedom of Cuba is the only indem­ nity for the murdered sailors of the Maine, & that Spain will hardly give without a struggle” (Anna Roosevelt Cowles Collection, Theodore Roosevelt Collection, Houghton Library, Harvard University). She did not know then that her husband was putting such words into direct action. There was no question in Theodore’s mind about serving in the war, and nothing would keep him from what he considered his duty. The United States declared war on Spain on April 25, 1898; Theodore resigned from his position about ten days later and formed a volunteer unit known as the Rough Riders. Any hesitation he felt about leaving Edith before she was fully recovered was dismissed by her recognition that such sacrifice was part of her wifely obligations. She wrote him almost daily after his ­departure, and those few letters that survive combine family news and support for his ­ efforts with lamentations over his absence and prayers for his safe return. She recov­ ered from her surgery by May and moved the family back to Sagamore Hill. Once Theodore knew he was heading to Tampa for embarkation, he cabled Edith to meet him there. On her way by train from New York, she thought the South was “des­ olate,” describing it to Emily as full of white sand, low palmetto bushes, & tall melancholy pines draped with grey moss. Sometimes we passed masses of blue iris or water lilies, or great bushes of magnolias. There were no roads, only wagon tracks thro’ the white sand and occasionally a ­little cluster of shanties with pickaninnies sleeping at the door while their mammies hoed corn in the little field adjoining. (Anna Cowles Collection,  Harvard)

Gould argues that Edith had racist ten­ dencies even more pronounced than what might be expected among her class and time, and offers among his examples that



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description of the countryside that passed by her window (Gould, 2013: 91–96). However, the widespread destruction of Edith’s letters makes it difficult to ­adequately demonstrate such assertions. Edith met Theodore in the Tampa Bay Hotel, headquarters for departing troops, and both parents sent letters describing the visit to their children (Cordery, 2010). After her return to New York, Edith followed the war mostly through the newspapers where Theodore received extensive coverage. His activities, especially his troops’ victory at San Juan Hill, generated public excitement and, to Edith’s surprise, even before he was back in the country, a letter to the editor of the New York Sun mentioned him as a desirable candi­ date for the New York governorship in the upcoming fall 1898 election (Morris, 1980: 182). At Camp Wickoff in Montauk Point, Long Island, Edith worked as a Red Cross volunteer until Theodore and other returned soldiers were released from quarantine. Reporters, political figures, and fans soon besieged Sagamore Hill (Morris, 1980: 183– 184). The celebrity that attached to Theodore’s Cuban success meant that their life as bibliophiles and parents and her quiet life as the wife of a mid‐level government ­official were gone. Edith hoped that promised writing advances would keep him out of the political arena—and the family out of the ­public eye; but, once the Rough Riders were mustered out of service, the lure of politics was too strong. Theodore was officially ­nominated for governorship in early October 1898. He won the election by almost eighteen thousand votes out of the 1.3 million cast. Edith’s first official social duty as first lady of New York was to host the inauguration reception on January 2, 1899, with over six thousand guests. There, Edith began a tra­ dition she continued in the White House. With a bouquet of flowers in each hand, she managed to avoid shaking hands with every stranger who came through the line, something she considered overly familiar, ­ and bowed instead. Her palms were open

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for close friends only. This aloofness was accepted both while she was governor’s wife—Edith was a success in Albany—and later, when she was the first lady. Yet there were other challenges. The year Theodore became governor, Alice turned fifteen. Despite Edith’s best efforts, her relationship with Alice was complicated, as is often the case between stepmothers and stepdaughters. Alice’s nickname in the fam­ ily was “sister,” which some historians assert was a way to avoid using her name—a reminder of her mother’s tragic death (Gould, 2013: 11; Cordery, 2007: 17). Alice’s relationship with her maternal grandparents differentiated her from her siblings. Edith interpreted the separate financial support that Alice received from the Lees from childhood on as both a bless­ ing and a curse. Theodore “used to joke about the imperative of being nice to her” in case they needed to borrow money from her to make ends meet (Cordery, 2007: 24; Kerr, 1995: 19). The funds kept Alice in fine clothes, which she loved; later they helped her keep her place among the circles of young people in Newport, the Hamptons, and other fashionable haunts. Edith felt the Lees spoiled Alice during her lengthy stays with them, so that the situation required readjustments once she returned. But soon Alice would have an even bigger playground than the Hamptons. When Garret Hobart, William McKinley’s vice president, died in November 1899, Theodore’s supporters saw an opportunity for him to reach higher office. New York opposi­ tion politicians, too, saw the chance to get rid of their reformist governor. While the family celebrated Christmas in Albany, Theodore vacillated between considering a vice presi­ dential bid and heeding the warning that the office was a political dead end—let alone Edith’s concerns about the finances (the salary was $2,000 less than the g ­overnor’s). His public statements were focused on remaining governor; his private correspondence revealed greater ambitions. When the Republican

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Convention began in Philadelphia in June 1900, enthusiasm for Theodore to join the ticket was strong; when his party called him to serve, just like in Cuba, he did not refuse, regardless of his wife’s desires. The campaign was hard on Edith. Again, she managed the house and the family while Theodore campaigned across the country. She was already preparing herself for what might await her if he was elected, including the need to find new accommodations (there was then no vice president’s house). Her greatest concerns were Theodore’s health, although he had no worse ailments than fatigue and vocal exhaustion, and the finances, for instance the problem of cover­ ing Ted’s first year at Groton. Nonetheless, Edith readily accepted the election results in November and was happy to discover that the position of vice president involved only a few burdens. But just six months later, on September 7, when Theodore was at Lake Champlain enjoying a luncheon with the Vermont Fish and Game League, he received word that President McKinley had been shot at the Pan‐Am Exposition in Buffalo. The vice president rushed to McKinley’s side but, as the latter was expected to recover, he was soon able to join Edith and the children for their vacation in a remote reach of the Adirondacks. Over the next week, however, McKinley’s condition wors­ ened, and on September 13 the Roosevelts were awakened by news that the president was dying. Theodore left at once for a five‐ hour, pitch‐dark wagon trip out of the mountains to North Creek, New York, then boarded a special train to Buffalo as McKinley breathed his last. On the next day he was sworn in as the twenty‐sixth presi­ dent of the United States. Mistress of the White House Even though her husband was now presi­ dent, Edith remained responsible for their family. While the weight of a nation sat on

his shoulders, the needs of six children, two homes, servants, and other employees rested on hers. There are several things for which Edith Roosevelt must be credited as the first truly modern occupant of her post; and the most significant of them is her creation of an “office” of first lady through the hiring of a full‐time permanent social secretary. In addi­ tion, her involvement in the 1902 White House renovation and in the installation of new technology, management of press ­coverage of her family, presentation of an extensive series of musicales, and completion of the White House china collection and first ladies portrait gallery are all noteworthy. The president and first lady both brought signifi­ cant change to the offices they held, u ­ shering in modernity to the presidency and to the home that embodied it. When Edith hired Isabelle (“Belle”) Hagner as her social secretary just a few weeks into their administration, she was cre­ ating the first real administrative apparatus for the first lady, even if few realized it at the time. Belle became much more than just the person who helped answer the first lady’s mail; she also organized appointment sched­ ules and managed protocol and guest lists. Belle’s own memoir (Hagner, 2009), avail­ able on the White House Historical Association website and in the Association’s journal, tells us much about her role in the White House and with Edith, although cur­ rently only a partial version has been made publicly available. One of Belle’s main duties was managing responses to the first lady’s mail, particularly to the many requests for “donations wanted for fairs” (Hagner, 2009: 56). Often Edith’s good deeds went unnoticed by the public, exactly as she preferred it. Biographer Lewis Gould’s (2013) recent study includes a new emphasis on Edith’s charitable activities as first lady—a topic that others have treated more lightly. Long after she left the White House, Edith continued to help people well away from the public eye and without ­ceremony or approbation.



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Shortly after the Roosevelts moved in, Theodore secured funding for a long‐sought renovation of the presidential home, which officially acquired the name of the White House during his tenure. Architect Charles F. McKim proposed keeping “the historic original house” as “wrapping for a new package” (Seale, 2002: 29). There were four major changes: separation of the work and living spaces on the second floor; enhancement of the public and entertaining rooms on the first floor; re‐landscaping of the gardens; and renovation of the lower level so as to accommodate the needs of public visitors and guests to the White House. Construction took place during the summer of 1902, while the family went to Sagamore Hill and the president used a home on the west side of Lafayette Square across from the White House as temporary quarters. By mid‐October the president’s staff decamped to a new Executive Office Wing, built where the old greenhouses stood and known since the 1930s as the West Wing (it has a sweeping connecting colonnade along which presidents are often photographed). The family returned on November 5 to their newly renovated quarters on the second floor, in time for the holidays and the 1903 social season. Edith’s leading role in the White House renovation is acknowledged by authors such as Stephen L. Levine (2011) and Belle Hagner (2009). “All fabrics and furniture passed her approval,” including the “cobalt blue silk” used to cover the walls in the Blue Room (Seale, 2002: 33). Her own taste combined with McKim’s Beaux Arts preferences to create elegant and sophisti­ cated public areas below the new comfort­ able and spacious family rooms. It is not hard to imagine the conversations Edith had with her cousin Edith Wharton (who, in addition to her well‐known novels, co‐authored The Decoration of Houses in 1896 with architect Ogden Codman) on the interior decoration of the new White

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House (Seale, 2002: 36). Mrs. Roosevelt also “was an inveterate antiques‐shopper” and contributed many items to the renova­ tion, while saving some of the Mansion’s own antiques from removal by McKim, who was not partial to them. She saw the White House as belonging to the American people and her family as its caretakers (Seale, 2002: 33). The general consensus was that the renovation was a s­ uccess; archi­ tectural historian William Seale argued that it “work[ed] for the young head of state of the newly international nation … to convey to the American people the meaning of the new presidency, more powerful and evident than it had been since Washington’s time” (Seale, 2002: 31). Perhaps the most dramatic changes in the building were the enlarged and refined State Dining Room and the elegant East Room, both of which now extended the length of the east and west sides of the building as anchors at each end of Cross Hall, which connected the Red, Green, and Blue Rooms and the new Grand Staircase. Cross Hall itself more easily accommodated crowds due to the simplicity of its furnishings and to the large new staircases from the lower level, which permitted guests easier move­ ment throughout. According to Belle Hagner, Edith found upon arrival that there was “no complete set of china large enough to serve the state din­ ners.” Having now an enlarged State Dining Room, the Roosevelts ordered 120 new matching Wedgewood settings. Frustrated in their attempts to find American‐made serving pieces of quality, Edith and Theodore ordered “plain imported china” and had it “decorated by American work­ men” (Hagner, 2009: 72). The outdoor space around the White House was also part of the planned renovations. Outside the Cabinet Room in the West Wing was a new tennis court Edith had installed to help Theodore’s health, and the children kept a flower garden under the window of the East Room (Morris, 1980: 248, 255).

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Edith negotiated with McKim to keep the glass conservatory, which produced flowers and vegetables for White House use, and to install her “colonial gardens” in the vacated space behind the west and east wings (Gould, 2013: 40–42). Meanwhile, what was once a dank ­basement housing two kitchens and storage rooms became a new entrance and gallery for visitors. Guests’ carriages arrived at a new porte cochère on the east side of the house, to drop their passengers and move off to parking areas beyond. Upon entering the East Terrace, visitors proceeded down the long gallery hallway with its new cloak­ rooms, umbrella stands, and two thousand five hundred boxes built in the walls to store their wraps (Morris, 1980: 254–257). Separate men’s and women’s parlors and a “diplomatic ante‐room” were also part of the new design. Historians nod to Edith’s role in decorating this new large public space—where thousands of citizens some­ times waited in line to be received on New Year’s Day and other social season events (see Morris, 1980: 229). Here Edith installed a gallery with portraits and busts of first ladies and with cabinets that housed the White House china collection. Today’s ­public visitors to the White House follow a path not much changed after more than a hundred years. Edith contributed other ­significant features, too. Coat check tickets, matched with the boxes mentioned above, helped guests retrieve their wraps quickly instead of searching through piles of cloaks, as they had to do before. At the end of White House parties, a new electronic board in the carriage waiting area signaled drivers when their passengers were ready to go. It was a modernized setting for the new century. The Roosevelts paid for most of the entertaining expenses while they were in the White House. According to Belle Hagner, “[t]he only exception to this rule was in the case of expenses [for visits] from foreign potentates or national guests,”

when the state department paid (Hagner, 2009: 57). Edith’s experience as New York’s first lady prepared her to take “a direct hand in the social and ceremonial aspects of the White House” (Landau, 2007: 121). These ­gatherings are recorded in large “­ scrapbooks” known as the Official Functions of the White House. Twenty‐eight fat but fragile volumes, which are housed at the National Archives, along with the Social Office letter books, contain guest lists, menus and wine lists, seating charts, floral decorations, and other minutiae of the r­egular annual din­ ners and receptions as well as of some smaller functions in the Roosevelt Administration. They testify to Edith’s high level of involvement in all the social activities of the White House. Edith’s view that the White House belonged to the nation drove her effort to enhance the presidential china collection beyond simply buying the new Wedgwood settings. She also completed the effort, begun by First Lady Caroline Scott Harrison in the 1890s, to catalogue the amalgamated remains of previous adminis­ trations’ ­patterns and pieces. Edith, Belle, and their contacts (aided by Washington journalist Abby Gunn Baker), searched for these items in antique shops in D.C. and bought pieces from earlier administrations through dealers and auction houses. By the time Edith left the White House, the col­ lection “featured relics of almost all twenty‐ five previous [a]dministrations.” Baker also assisted in the exhibition of the best pieces from the collection in custom‐designed cabinets along the East Terrace Gallery. Edith wanted to keep White House fur­ nishings in the nation’s hands and not have them diminished in the “cavalier” fashion of earlier administrations (Morris, 1980: 253–254). Along with Edith’s wide‐ranging ­r efurbishment of the White House and its accoutrements, her formalization of ­activities related to the social functions of



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the White House underlines her role as a transitional first lady. She built on the post’s long‐standing traditions of enter­ taining visitors and introduced a new role for the first lady as the nation’s hostess, advocate, and model for women in the larger society. In addition to Edith’s eight annual official events, Hagner wrote, “[she] gave, each season, several large teas; three or four musicales, preceded by dinners; as well as garden parties in the spring” (Hagner, 2009: 75). Thus these activities were no longer just the tradi­ tional complement to social engagements that they had been for her predecessors: instead Edith—with Belle’s able assis­ tance—expanded their number and prom­ inence on the Washington social scene, returning the city to its status of cultural center of the nation. She also made efforts to ensure that Cabinet wives did not ­outspend or overshadow her own enter­ tainments, a policy she enforced in weekly meetings. Although Archibald Butt sur­ mised that these gatherings with the first lady amounted to little more than tea and sociability, Nellie Taft, wife of Secretary of War William Howard Taft, affirmed that their agenda was “not a social affair” (quoted in Caroli, 2003: 122). A number of authors have recorded the social life of Washington during the early twentieth century. Constance McLaughlin Green focused on the district in her (1963) Washington: Capital City, 1879–1950, whereas others explore the White House itself and its inhabitants. Edna Colman’s (1927) White House Gossip, volume 2 of Esther Singleton’s (1907) The Story of the White House, Gilson Willetts’s (1908) Inside History of the White House, and Barry Landau’s (2007) The President’s Table: Two Hundred Years of Dining and Diplomacy all describe social events under various administrations, including that of Roosevelt. Edith’s predecessors had hosted concerts in the White House, but singers and

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musicians found in the refurbished settings a lovely new venue for performing for the first family and their guests. Over thirty such events occurred during the Roosevelt administration. According to a 1907 issue of the Music Trade Review, Mrs. Roosevelt “succeeded in making drawing room ­musicales quite the fashion in Washington” (Gould, 2013: 57). The presence of three performers in 1902 and 1903, “[t]he Misses Turner and Miss Leech,” has been cited as demonstrat­ ing Edith’s acceptance of “the racist val­ ues” of the day and as “convey[ing] her condescending attitude toward African Americans” (Gould, 2013: 59–60). The Washington papers and promotional litera­ ture on these women revealed that they “specialized in ‘Negro Songs’ that evoked ‘the memory of the vanished days of their old South’” in “dialect tunes.” Gould argues that, “in this instance, [Edith] used the White House as a venue to entertain guests with crude melodic stereotypes depicting an oppressed racial minority” (Gould, 2013: 59–60). Edith approved of both performers and certainly knew the content of their material. Gould also ­mentions several letters from Edith written to friends and family that use “pejorative racial terms” and concludes that such “words were also used in everyday conver­ sation among the Roosevelts.” Regrettably, Edith was not unusual—even as an upper‐ class white woman—in her use of “coarse and demeaning” racial language and in not thinking how “the objects of her ­comments might have resented these stereotypes” (Gould, 2013: 93–94). Gould presumes that her use of such language indicated “strong anti‐black views” that “presumably shaped the context” of her conversations with Theodore (2013: 95). As noted below, he also suggests that even the Roosevelts’ famous White House dinner with Booker T. Washington appears debat­ able as to what it says about the Roosevelts’ views on race.

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Theodore Roosevelt wrote to Washington in March 1901 regarding an advance copy of Up from Slavery, saying: Mrs. Roosevelt is as pleased as I am with your book. I shall not try to tell you what I think about it, my dear sir, for I do not want to seem to flatter you too much … I do not know who could take your place in the work you are doing (Davis, 2012: 120).

Just a few weeks later, on April 1, 1901, Washington and Roosevelt met in Theodore’s office in New York. Both men respected each other highly. Then, within weeks of moving into the White House, Roosevelt on very short notice invited Washington to dinner on October 16, 1901; it was the first time a black American was asked to dine there. Not surprisingly, the event angered white southerners. Theodore defended his action by saying that his only intention was “that ‘of showing some little respect to a man whom I cordially esteem as a good citizen and good American’” (Morris, 1980: 227). But the furor did not dissipate. Deborah Davis’s (2012) exploration of the Roosevelt–Washington White House repast recounts how, among other reactions, Maryland Democrats generated a negative cartoon about “the dangers of welcoming blacks to the dinner table”; and the cartoon included Edith. In the image, Theodore and Washington are “happily ensconced at the table, with a smiling [Edith] sitting between them, contentedly pouring tea.” Davis argued that caricaturing the president was nothing new, but that cartoon “was the first time in history that a president’s wife, ‘a woman whom all Americans must honor and respect as belonging to the best type of American womanhood and American moth­ erhood,’ was lampooned,” as the Chicago Tribune commented a dozen days after the dinner. This strategy backfired on the Democrats when many urban newspaper

editors recalled the image; but it spread into rural papers anyway and, in Davis’s estima­ tion, it “proved that the men who claimed to be fighting social equality to ‘protect’ Southern gentility had no gentility at all” (Davis, 2012: 226–227). Yet Gould noted that, after the Washington dinner, no other African Americans were entertained in a “similar fashion” at the White House. He also emphasized that Edith’s “role in such a policy, if any” has not been explored by any of Theodore’s biographers (Gould, 2013: 94). The implication that Edith’s racism prevented another such invitation seems, however, overreaching. Three decades later, in an attempt to minimize the meal’s political significance and, in the process, also to reveal the declin­ ing interests of the Republican Party (also known as the Grand Old Party, or GOP) in its black constituents, party operatives trans­ formed the Roosevelt–Washington dinner into a “working lunch” where the two men discussed issues of the day while balancing sandwiches on their laps. In 1931 Baltimore’s black newspaper, the Afro‐ American, wrote to Edith in hopes of clari­ fying the events. She confirmed that it was a dinner, adding “[b]elieve me” in her reply (Davis, 2012: 270). Unlike Gould, Davis believed that Edith admired Booker T. Washington (2012: 200). Later in life, refer­ ring to her husband’s speech to the 367th Negro Infantry on the eve of the United States’ entry into World War I, Edith wrote to Kermit how proud she was of Theodore’s emotional address there, which ended with Stephen Foster’s song “Old Black Joe” that Edith said “nearly reduced me to tears” (Dalton, 2002: 485–486). The question of her racial views cannot be answered by examining one dinner, one concert, one speech, or a handful of letters. Yet to say that she merely reflected prevailing views on race is overly simplistic; the intensity of her outlook remains an open question. If noth­ ing else, her support of Washington would suggest a defined view of blacks’ proper



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roles in the United States—his advocacy for accommodation and vocational education is well known. Despite appearing (at least in the c­ artoon) at the “center” of this controversy, Edith much preferred to keep out of the limelight and to focus on her family, whose ­importance to her is well documented. Edith spent ­several hours (or more) with the ­children each day reading, reviewing schoolwork, or engaging in other childhood ­ activities, as Hagner noted: “The President and Mrs. Roosevelt always gave much time to their children and thought to their ­upbringing” (Hagner, 2009: 61). Walking, hiking (or “tramping,” as the Roosevelts said), and riding horses were favorite activities of Edith and Theodore, both together and with the family. Often Theodore played vigorously with the chil­ dren, sometimes right before formal White House events, and this resulted in late arriv­ als, after he straightened his clothes. Most historians of the Roosevelt administration mention the colorful quality and good‐ natured fun of the Roosevelts’ White House life. To escape its rigors, in 1905 Edith pur­ chased a rustic cabin, “Pine Knot,” in the Blue Ridge Mountains, about 125 miles from Washington, a place of much happi­ ness for them all. There is no question that Edith’s family life had its difficulties, however; in addition to having a complicated relationship with her own mother and sister, Edith was often frank to the point of overlooking her children’s feelings, and also had a challenge in Alice. Historian Serge Ricard argues that, “[w]ith­ out question, Alice’s presence must have been difficult for Edith. After all, the vivacious child was living proof that Edith was not her husband’s first choice” (Ricard, 2011: 249). Yet, since no one knows exactly why Edith and Theodore’s friendship was ruptured in the summer before he met Alice’s mother, it is unknown who was Theodore’s first choice. Several authors point out that young Alice garnered much attention from Edith, who

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saw her as very much the sibling of her own children. Edward Renehan ­recognized that, even though there was a “tension between the two women, ‘a complicated, sometimes iron love’ grew in the space between them” (Renehan, 1998: 49). Kathleen Dalton observes: “Largely because [of] Edith’s steady guidance … Alice remained sunny and well loved through her father’s frequent absences” (Dalton, 2002: 122). However, Alice’s recorded ­recollections paint a gener­ ally unflattering image of Edith as a step­ mother (Cordery, 2007: 27–28 and 70–72, Teague, 1981: 30, 36–37). Some historians suggest that this percep­ tion began when Alice moved in with her newly remarried father and with Edith, at age three. Alice “felt abandoned” and “never felt a part of the growing family” that came along in the next ten years (Cordery, 2007: 23; Gould, 2013: 12). Yet Dalton disagrees, not­ ing that “Alice got her full share of maternal attention” and “never suffered emotional and physical abandonment the way her cousin Eleanor did” (Dalton, 2002: 122). Cordery, by ­contrast, presents Alice’s sometimes bit­ ter recollections of her life as a teenager and young adult in the White House with descriptions of herself as trying “to be con­ spicuous” (Cordery, 2007: 71). Gould argues that Alice’s feelings reveal “the difficulties she experienced with her stepmother during the White House years” (Gould, 2013: 130). The power of Alice’s personality and her stories that disparaged Edith, told for genera­ tions, no doubt colored other family ­recollections of the first lady. Alice outlived her stepmother and all her s­tepsiblings by decades, leaving a lasting stamp. Overly glossy treatments of Edith contribute little to the historical record, ­ ­ certainly; but equally problematic are the dark portrayals based upon assessments that come from one per­ son prone to drama and attention seeking, as Alice was. The ­relationship between Edith and Alice was complicated but should not serve as the defining element of Edith Roosevelt’s tenure as first lady.

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One of Edith’s trials was Alice’s national (and international) notoriety, which was summed up by her moniker “Princess Alice” and ever evident in the new era of gossip columns, photojournalism, and increased national attention on the presidency. The press catered to public interest in all the Roosevelts, a phenomenon that neither Theodore nor Edith could control. Alice gambled at the racetrack, smoked in public, drove alone to visit friends up and down the East Coast—all while “frantically pursued by the press” (Morris, 1980: 271–272). The rest of the children, as well as their numerous pets, were camera fodder too, but their actions were better shielded by Edith. While the first lady recognized the impor­ tance of satisfying national interests, she was careful about it. Thus she released only ­photos of the children that had been taken under supervised conditions; and she “­cautioned her children about not talking to friends and acquaintances about family matters lest the newspapers get wind of the story” (Gould, 2013: 105). Yet Edith also saw the usefulness of the media. She read many newspapers every day—“to keep herself posted on all public matters,” as Belle Hagner recalled. She reviewed clippings for the president, send­ ing him those she thought were most important (Hagner, 2009: 83). Indeed Gould includes a whole chapter on the occa­ sions where Edith’s influence as first lady shaped her husband’s presidency. These examples include changing the British ambassador to the United States, conveying information to her husband, effecting appointments, dissuading women from using heron plumes on hats, and influencing New York patronage appointments (Gould, 2013: 89–113). Historians widely accept the assessment of Archibald Butt, the presi­ dent’s valet, who believed “she was a shrewder judge of people than Theodore,” while Sylvia Jukes Morris emphasized that Theodore often “relied on her for behind‐ the‐scenes counsel” (Morris, 1980: 4).

One specific episode in which Edith’s role was critical was during the Russo‐ Japanese War of 1904–1905. The Roosevelts’ friend Springy was serving as secretary of the British embassy in Russia at the time. He felt it inappropriate for a high‐ ranking diplomatic official to correspond directly with the American president. Springy’s letters to Edith, however, carried information useful for Theodore’s under­ standing of what was happening in Russia and for his subsequent planning of America’s response, both to the war and to Japan’s ris­ ing power. Springy told Edith: “How I pes­ ter you with politics! But you are quite a politician now aren’t you, and so I treat you.” Then he went on to describe some of the ominous aspects of Russian society and tsarist leadership that he felt should call for an American response, asking Edith: “Where is America? Has she no interest in the Pacific?” (all quoted in Morris, 1980: 286– 287). Edith’s correspondence with other British diplomatic figures such as Arthur Hamilton Lee and with the US ambassador to Britain, Whitelaw Reid, not only kept Theodore informed but gave Edith her own connections to influential individuals. In June 1904 Edith and Theodore were relaxing after lunch on the South Portico of the White House when Theodore was noti­ fied of his nomination for presidency by the GOP. As Morris (1980) writes, Edith con­ sidered Alton B. Parker, his democratic opponent—who was a gold conservative and an anti‐imperialist—“a colorless person­ ality” and felt that Theodore’s reelection was secure enough for her to leave for a summer in Oyster Bay on the next day. Nevertheless, she wrote to her sister Emily that she was “anxious and uneasy” as the election neared and as a result lost five pounds during the last week of the cam­ paign. The couple awaited the returns together with Cabinet members, their wives, and several others at the White House on election night, when Theodore was ree­ lected with “the largest popular and



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electoral majorities ever given a presidential candidate.” But Edith was as shocked as the nation when Theodore announced, on the eve of his resounding victory, that he would not seek another term, explaining that his three and a half years of completing McKinley’s term counted in his mind as a first term. He planned to follow George Washington’s tradition of serving only two terms. Later on Edith said that she would have stopped him from making such a promise if she knew he planned to do it. With his authority limited by that “­handicap,” Theodore nonetheless plunged ahead into his second term while Edith continued her work already under way (Morris, 1980: 279–280). There is a well‐known portrait of the Roosevelt family, taken shortly before the family’s departure from the White House in March 1909. Even beyond the customary lack of smiles in photos of that vintage, their sadness is evident upon this occasion. As Theodore wrote to his son Kermit, “Mother and I are in the curious and very pleasant position of having enjoyed the White House more than any other President and his wife whom I recall” (quoted in Morris, 1980: 342–343). Edith too looked back fondly on her time in the White House, though she acknowledged her fears for the president’s safety—a reasonable concern, given the fate of his predecessor (Morris, 1980: 349). She too had left an important legacy: she had established the office of the modern first lady. A Life Well Lived Edith Roosevelt lived almost another four decades after departing from the White House. Her postpresidential life encom­ passed many more changes, family tragedies and joys, travel, and a new kind of freedom and independence; but only another decade with Theodore. In his biography, Lewis Gould divides these years into three phases:

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the 1909 departure from the White House until Theodore’s death in early 1919; the 1920s and 1930s, which were years of travel and writing; and the years leading up to her own death in 1948 (Gould, 2013: 115–116). Throughout the rest of her life, Edith repre­ sented the ideals for which Theodore had stood during his career, but she became more publicly visible and outspoken than ever before. She outlived all but three of their children; this greatly pained her, as it would any mother, but her Victorian demea­ nor and perseverance kept her going through it all. After leaving the White House, Theodore and Kermit went on a long African safari and Edith took Ethel, Archie, and Quentin on a tour of Europe. In March 1910 she met Theodore and Kermit in Khartoum, where she toured the desert and was photo­ graphed riding a camel (Morris, 1980: 353– 354). Their tour took them once more to Europe, where they stopped in such cities as Vienna, Oslo (there Theodore finally gave the speech for his 1906 Nobel Peace Prize), and Paris. Theodore was regularly greeted by crowds and with grandeur, as if he were still president, and he often dined with monarchs. Edith was frequently reminded of how popular he was; this was especially evident when they returned to a huge recep­ tion and parade in New York on June 18, 1910, with a crowd “estimated at 100,000” (Gould, 2013: 119). Clearly the public life that Edith disliked was not over, despite Theodore’s retirement from public office; for his demurrals, many Republicans wanted him back in the White House. Increasingly Edith “became a link to the emerging insurgency among Republicans against the leadership of the new president,” William Howard Taft (Gould, 2013: 116– 117). Indeed, she carried documents to Theodore in Khartoum from such Roosevelt loyalists as former Secretary of the Interior James R. Garfield. At the same time, Secretary of War Henry Stimson recalled that Edith laughed and sternly told her

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husband: “Put it out of your mind, Theodore, you never will be President of the United States again” (quoted in Dalton, 2002: 369). But, of course, Theodore chal­ lenged Taft at the Republican Convention in 1912, even after Edith suffered a severe riding accident that injured her head and neck and kept her bedridden for several weeks. His decision followed a long pattern of “deserting” his wife in times of need in order to satisfy his own desires, whether for hunting, going to war, or pursuing politics. Ever the supportive wife, she hosted gather­ ings on his behalf during the convention. Theodore, however, defied her attempt to get him to “step aside” when the party chose Taft to carry its banner once again (Dalton, 2002: 391). Roosevelt won many key GOP primaries and knew that his adherents were not going away. The 1912 election split the Republican Party between regulars, who supported Taft’s reelection, and Progressives, who supported Theodore. Accepting his inveter­ ate ambitions, Edith joined him at the Progressive Convention for his nomination and helped with speeches, although she did not campaign. Theodore survived an assas­ sination attempt in Milwaukee, when his folded speech and glasses case slowed the bullet; he later cabled Edith to say that the wound was “trivial.” Just the same, she rushed to his side and had him moved back to Sagamore Hill for convalescence right before the election (Morris, 1980: 387). Losing to Democrat Woodrow Wilson was hard on Theodore, but his thoughts turned to possibilities for 1916. When World War I broke out, Theodore argued energetically for US intervention. Edith’s view that “the peace policy of [Wilson’s] administration appeals to a senti­ mental fund which the nation possesses” and her disappointment at his reelection in 1916 were clearly evident in a letter to her British friend Ruth Lee: “another four years must pass with this vile and hypocritical charlatan at the head of the nation” (quoted

in Gould, 2013: 126–127). Her concerns, though, focused primarily on Theodore, whose “prodigious” eating and various mis­ haps—including those occasioned by his 1913–1914 expedition down an uncharted Amazon tributary that almost killed him, while she waited “silent months” to hear any news—were having a cumulative effect (Gould, 2013: 127; Ornig, 1998: 129). Theodore wanted to raise another volunteer unit like the Rough Riders, but his poor health precluded that quest. As Dalton (2002: 462) put it: “Though Edith was tak­ ing an interest in war relief and preparedness in her quiet, private way, she primarily con­ cerned herself with distracting her husband from politics.” Edith’s activism during World War I included serving as national honorary presi­ dent of the Needlework Guild, in which she was a long‐standing member. She argued that the guild’s mission to “provide new and suitable garments of wearing and household linen for the poor and sick” offered “a won­ derful opportunity [for women] to be of tremendous service to humanity” (Gould, 2013: 128). The year 1918 brought enough worry and stress to Edith’s life to last for the next decade. It all started with a near fatal illness that struck Theodore. Dalton described the multiple maladies that afflicted him, includ­ ing an ear infection that could have “spread to the meninges” (the membrane covering the brain) that required “dangerous brain surgery” (Dalton, 2002: 496). At the hospi­ tal, Edith arranged a room and food for the press, “while they held a ‘death watch.’” She attempted to limit rumors and generally “responded to the barrage of reporters, tel­ egrams, and visitors with the composure learned from her long career as a political wife” (2002: 497). At the same time came worry for the Roosevelts’ sons, who were fighting in Europe, and the deaths of Springy and Henry Adams, all somewhat moderated by the birth of two more grandchildren.



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Within days of Theodore returning home from his ordeal, in the front‐line trenches of France, both Archie and his commanding officer Ted were injured in the same German artillery barrage on March 11, 1918. Archie was more seriously maimed and was awarded the French Croix de Guerre. Dalton reported that, “as news of Archie’s wounds poured in, [Theodore] appreciated that his wife, ‘the adamantine,’ reacted ‘as gallantly as any heroine of history’” (2002: 499). But the worst was yet to come. On July 14, Quentin was shot down behind enemy lines. Theodore “paced up and down [saying] ‘But Mrs. Roosevelt! How am I going to break it to her?’” He went inside to tell her, and returned to the newspaperman with a statement that was redolent of his essay “The Strenuous Life”: “Quentin’s mother and I are very glad that he got to the front and had a chance to render some service to his country, and show the stuff that was in him before his fate befell him.” Edith, too, epitomized the stouthearted mother when she later said: “You cannot bring up boys as eagles and expect them to turn out spar­ rows” (Morris, 1980: 423). Historians agree that it was mostly downhill from there for Theodore. As Gould put it, “[t]he death of Quentin rep­ resented a major physical and psychological wound … Theodore never recovered from the shock and he experienced an onrush of ailments that led to his death” (Gould, 2013: 128). Still, the Roosevelts retained their passion for politics and were thrilled when the Republicans won both House and Senate majorities in November 1918. Edith wrote in her diary: “Wilson rebuked. Hurrah!” (Morris, 1980: 429). Increasingly, however, their joys were quiet ones, as those of the first Sunday of 1919, when Theodore remained “in bed in the north­ west bedroom, reading aloud to Mrs. Roosevelt or listening while she read … spending long periods just luxuriating in the joy of being home with this dearest and  most exhilarating of companions,”

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according to Herman Hagedorn (1954: 424). Later that night, early in the morning of January 6, 1919, Theodore died in his sleep; he was just 60, and his widow not yet 58. Theodore’s death marked the beginning of the second phase of Edith’s post‐first lady life. As Morris (1980: 441) described it, the remainder of her life was “lived out on a more spiritual plane.” She sailed to France, where she was met by Ted and Kermit. After travelling to Paris and joining her sister Emily, she visited Quentin’s grave. He had been buried with honors by his German enemies at the site where he crashed in air combat, and she arranged for a fountain to be  constructed there as a monument to him (Morris, 1980: 442). She also visited her sister’s Italian home before returning to ­ Sagamore Hill in mid‐May 1919. Edith found comfort in touring with v­arious family members and friends over the next two decades. She wrote: Women who marry pass their best and happiest years in … the problems of the next generation … and those born with the wanderfoot are sometimes irked by the weight of the always beloved shackles. Then the birds fly, the nest is empty, and at the feet of the knitters in the sun lies the wide world. (Roosevelt, Roosevelt, Roosevelt, and Derby, 1924: 5)

She voyaged regularly to Latin America, Asia, and Africa, finally enjoying a life of quiet contemplation, nature and the arts, pushing herself on some difficult treks, and sharing time with those dear to her. The sadness about Theodore’s loss never really left her, but eventually her memories brought comfort and new experiences brought joy. In 1924, together with Kermit, his wife Belle Willard, and son‐in‐law Richard Derby, Edith published a travelogue of her trips entitled Cleared for Strange Ports (Roosevelt et al., 1924). The experience inspired her, along with a visit to the

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Connecticut site of her family’s roots, to compile family “diaries, travel journals, nau­ tical logs, letters and book lists” and to arrange them so as to tell the history of the Tylers and Carows in America since the 1600s (Morris, 1980: 456–457). With Kermit’s help, the result was published in 1928 under the title American Backlogs: The Story of Gertrude Tyler and Her Family, 1660–1860. It brings the story up to the year before Edith’s birth. The culmination of Edith’s interest in her family’s origins was capped by the purchase of a Connecticut refuge from the memories of Sagamore Hill. In 1927, as her health was weakening and there were limits on her traveling, Edith bought “an immense three‐ story white clapboard structure built for Daniel Tyler III in the late eighteenth cen­ tury on two and a half acres of ground” (Morris, 1980: 468). While her family was confounded by her decision, she could cer­ tainly afford this summer retreat with his­ toric, ancestral roots. In addition to her existing annual income (diminished some­ what by the 1930s’ depression), she received a presidential widow’s pension. She consid­ ered refusing the pension, but she “came to the conclusion that would be an ungracious thing to do, since it would cause embarrass­ ment to the other [widows] now receiving the pensions” who really needed the money (Morris, 1980: 469–470). She used some of her income to aid former Rough Riders and others down on their luck. She also continued to press Theodore’s progressive political legacy in her later life. Just one year after his death, she wrote “a ringing exhortation” in The Woman‐ Republican for Warren G. Harding and Calvin Coolidge. Referring to women’s new responsibilities as voters, Edith announced this as the moment for them “to make [their] influence weighty in behalf of the nation … [and] bring back our country to its stable place and then by strong endeavor do all that  can be done for peace and general ­welfare in all lands” (Morris, 1980: 447–448).

Her language was “Theodore all over again,” as Morris put it (1980: 448), but this also clearly shows her recognition of the new political role and responsibility women recently gained through suffrage—something Theodore always supported. Her lingering dislike for Wilson and the Democrats was also evident when she said: “Only will the full measure of Americanism in the next administration be attained if the people shall declare for the party which holds true nationalism as its high ideal” (Gould, 2013: 129). When Franklin Delano Roosevelt (Theodore’s fifth cousin, married to his niece Eleanor) was nominated for presi­ dency by the Democratic Party in 1932, Edith’s activism expanded. She had not forgotten that in 1924, when her son Ted, a Republican like his parents, ran for the governorship of New York, both Franklin and Eleanor spoke out loudly and some­ times viciously against him. Ted lost by just over one hundred thousand votes, embittering most of the “Oyster Bay” Roosevelts for years. Thus Franklin’s presi­ dential nomination spurred Edith into working for his opponent, republican incumbent Herbert Hoover. Throughout the election she used envelopes with a “Hoover for President” imprint for corre­ spondence that bore her franking signa­ ture (approved by Congress) in lieu of stamps. She also invited three hundred people to lunch at Sagamore Hill on August 10, 1932, as the “Edith Kermit Roosevelt Republican Club,” to celebrate Hoover’s birthday. Her welcoming speech there made the New York Times front page (Morris, 1980: 476–477). She flew to Washington the next day to share in the notification ceremony when Hoover for­ mally received his nomination. She also accepted an invitation to speak to an over­ flowing crowd at Madison Square Garden—all to no avail when Franklin swept the election by a wide majority. That was the end of her political activism.



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She remained a very active public widow, however. She became the face of her family’s and husband’s legacies by meeting with Theodore’s republican supporters, biogra­ phers, and reporters and by attending memorial events. In 1922 she started lead­ ing an annual party of Theodore’s friends from Sagamore to Young’s Cemetery to visit his grave. For the next twenty years this annual pilgrimage ended at their home, with readings from Theodore’s books, Edith’s telling of stories, and everyone’s “wax[ing] nostalgic” (Morris, 1980: 452). She was also instrumental in the Woman’s Roosevelt Memorial Association and the Roosevelt Association (for men) that rebuilt Theodore’s boyhood home, now a national park. Coordinating the construction of memorials for Quentin in France and at Groton also occupied her time. As the twen­ ties progressed, multiple biographies of Theodore were published. She worked with some authors, found others taxing, but paid attention to them all and in this way helped develop his legacy, as forward‐thinking first ladies before and after have done for their spouses. Others published their correspond­ ence with Theodore; but, sadly, her pen­ chant for privacy caused her to destroy her letters from him. With Ted, Archie, and Kermit in uniform, her family was again in peril during World War II. As Kermit’s struggles with alcohol­ ism threatened his life, he was assigned to duty in Alaska, to protect the Aleutian Islands from potential Japanese attack. His health failed even as his drinking stopped; he landed in hospital in May 1943, while his unit defeated the last Japanese bastion. Despondent over any real‐war duty to fulfill, he shot himself on June 4. Edith was always partial to Kermit and the family kept the cause of his death hidden from her. Ted went ashore as the oldest man to land in Normandy at dawn on D‐day, June 6, 1944, at the head of his army infantry division, despite having a weak heart—a fact he also kept from his mother. His heart failed five

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weeks later. Archie survived the war after being wounded in the same knee as in World War I and suffering malaria contracted in the South Pacific. Edith, too, weakened in health and mind over the war years but carried on at Sagamore Hill with a small household staff. She answered her own mail, which often included myriad questions about Theodore. A visit from photojournalist Stefan Lorant, who was compiling a photographic biogra­ phy of the former president, illustrates her persistent wit. Lorant brought a photo he hoped she could identify and explain: two small boys on a balcony looking down on Abraham Lincoln’s funeral procession. Decades later Lorant recalled that she was “charming and warm,” with “sparkling blue eyes [and a] steel rod in her spine.” As he left, Lorant said: “Mrs. Roosevelt, if I were ten years older, I would propose to you.” She replied quickly to the man in his mid‐ forties, “And, Mr. Lorant, if I were ten years younger, I would accept” (quoted in Morris, 1980: 513–515). In 1941 the New York Times of August 6 published an editorial honoring her eighti­ eth birthday. It acknowledged her as a “beloved woman” and a symbol of her gen­ eration: “the mention of her name calls back the years when the White House rang with the shouts and laughter of children … [moreover] it was through her good offices that the White House was restored accord­ ing to the plans of its architect.” The paper also documented her partnership with Theodore: “She has, too, a sense of humor, sometimes exercised pleasantly at the expense of the extraordinary man or com­ pound of several kinds of men that was the elder Theodore Roosevelt” (Anonymous, 1941: 16). Biographer Sylvia Morris identified Edith’s last diary entry as one of December 11, 1945, but the Harvard archives revealed almost ten more over the next eighteen months. Her last entry on July 3, 1947 said: “Lovely weather. Heard the Whip‐or‐Wills.”

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To the end, she loved nature, observed it as she had since childhood with Theodore, and reveled in its beauty. She died peacefully on September 30, 1948, at Sagamore Hill, and was buried next to Theodore after a simple funeral—one she had prescribed in great detail, down to the flowers and hymns. A complex woman who lived in a rapidly changing time with an immensely animated husband and a large family, Edith Kermit Carow Roosevelt embodied the world around her. Morris provides a detailed nar­ rative of her life, drawing on a wide range of primary sources but with little analysis or comment upon that long and busy life. Gould states that she “deserves better from history,” yet the questions he raises seem to offer a sometimes darker perspective (Gould, 2013: 131). He, like others, certainly cred­ its her with the modernization of the first lady’s role in the numerous ways already described. However, he points to aspects of her character—racial views, motherhood, acidic personality—that, depending upon the sources and context, suggest a less ­sympathetic portrait. Archival Collections and Historiography Uncovering the story of any historical figure is complicated by concerns like the ones Gould raises, and doing so for the wife of such a multifaceted and polarizing president is all the more difficult. Edith, moreover, destroyed almost all her correspondence with Theodore in order to shun public ­scrutiny, and urged her children to destroy many of her letters to them as well. Fortunately Edith was an active correspon­ dent, and her  letters to others survive in many places. Key collections exist in various archives, some in conjunction with other Roosevelt family materials. The Houghton Library at  Harvard University houses the largest ­collection, containing Edith’s adult correspondence with her mother and sister.

In addition, some of her letters reside in the collections of Theodore and his sisters Anna Roosevelt Cowles and Corinne Roosevelt Robinson, and in those of Edith and Theodore’s children, Ethel Roosevelt Derby and Archibald Bulloch Roosevelt. The Library of Congress Manuscript Division holds materials relating to Edith both as first lady and as mother. This mate­ rial is spread in almost twenty different col­ lections: Theodore Roosevelt’s presidential papers, which include Edith’s papers as first lady, are an important starting point, but there are also dozens of Edith’s letters in the papers of her stepdaughter and sons: Alice Roosevelt Longworth, Theodore Junior, and Kermit Roosevelt. Others may also be found in the collections of George Cortelyou, Elizabeth Cady Stanton, William Howard Taft, and Owen Wister. Additional archives house the papers of Edith’s correspondents, and the National First Ladies Library includes an online guide to these varied manuscript collections. Among the most useful are the papers of Henry Adams and Henry Cabot Lodge at the Massachusetts Historical Society, Cecil Spring‐Rice’s papers at Cambridge University, Sir Arthur Lee’s papers at the Courtauld Institute, and Belle Hagner’s papers in the Southern Historical Collection at the University of North Carolina Library in Chapel Hill. The White House Curator’s Office holds collections relating to the 1902 renovation of the White House, and the New York Historical Society hosts papers from Theodore Roosevelt’s short time in the governor’s office. The Sagamore Hill National Historic Site and the Theodore Roosevelt Birthplace Historic Site are also worth visiting for an understanding of the childhood and domestic lives of Edith and Theodore. The published correspondence of Theodore Roosevelt (Roosevelt, 1954), together with the published collections of Theodore and Henry Cabot Lodge’s letters (Lodge, 1925) and those of Cecil



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Spring‐Rice (Gwynn, 1929) and Henry Adams (Adams, 1930–1938) all provide additional material. The Washington Post, the New York Times, other major city dailies, and magazines like Harper’s Bazaar and Pearson’s Magazine are also useful. Memoirs written by those who worked in the White House— such as Archibald Butt (1924), Irwin Hoover (1934), and James Amos (1927)—provide rich accounts of Edith’s private and public interactions. As previously described, Edith herself authored a travel narrative of her later life, as well as a history of her maternal family (Roosevelt and Roosevelt, 1928). Other family members provided insights into Edith and Theodore’s lives together: Corrine Roosevelt Robinson (1921), Theodore Roosevelt Junior (Roosevelt, Jr., 1928), and Nicholas Robinson (1967). Alice was the family’s most prolific chronicler: she wrote her own autobiography as well as providing fodder to others who told her story. Both Roosevelts were discussed in friends’ mem­ oirs such as those of Marguerite Cassini (1956), Winthrop Chanler (1951) and Margaret Chanler (1934), Viscount Arthur Lee of Fareham (Lee, 1974), Frances (Fanny) Parsons (Smith) (Parsons, 1951), William Wingate Sewall (1919), and Owen Wister (1930)—among others. Edith has received a number of treat­ ments from historians who draw on her role in the White House and as a wife and mother. Her first biographer described her in a variety of ways: “high born and culti­ vated,” “an elusive personality” and “a pub­ lic figure who remained private in the glare of the spotlight,” she was also an “arche­ typal Victorian patrician lady, perfectly ­fulfilled as wife and mother,” yet with a “life full of drama … [who] understood more of the vicissitudes and mysteries of life than most women have” (Morris, 1980: 2–5). Kathleen Dalton writes that Edith was both “extraordinary” and “reserved” (Dalton, 2002: 9 and 11). Drawing on family mem­ oirs, Gould’s new biography casts “shad­ ings” on the image that historians have

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given Edith and attempts to “complicate” her history. She was, he writes, a “many‐ sided and sometimes flawed human being” (Gould, 2013: 1–2). The most significant and detailed biogra­ phy of Edith to date was also the first one, published over thirty years ago. Written by Sylvia Jukes Morris, Edith Kermit Roosevelt: Portrait of a First Lady (Morris, 1980) “helped launch the surge of first ladies schol­ arship in the 1980s and 1990s” according to Lewis Gould (2013: 160). Morris empha­ sizes Edith’s competing roles as wife, mother, first lady, family manager, and political spouse, More recently, Tom Lansford’s (2002) treatment in A “Bully” First Lady: Edith Kermit Roosevelt, at 131 pages, is cor­ respondingly brief in its analysis. The most recent scholarly biography, but one that focuses on Edith’s years as first lady, is by Lewis Gould (2013); it uses often over­ looked sources and draws much on Alice Roosevelt Longworth’s perspective. Gould looks deeper than previous biographers into some of Edith’s activities and presents a less adoring analysis of her, including an explora­ tion of her racism. As his questions about her suggest, however, a definitive, updated biog­ raphy of her full life remains to be written.

References Adams, H. 1930–1938. Letters of Henry Adams, 2 vols, edited by W. C. Ford. Boston: Houghton Mifflin. Amos, J. E. 1927. Theodore Roosevelt: Hero to His Valet. New York: John Day. Anonymous. 1941. “For a Birthday.” New York Times, August 6: 16. Butt, A. W. 1924. Letters, edited by Lawrence F. Abbot. New York: Doubleday. Brands, H. W. 1997. TR: The Last Romantic. New York: Basic Books. Caroli, B. B. 1998. The Roosevelt Women. New York: Basic Books. Cassini, M. 1956. Never a Dull Moment: The Memoirs of Countess Marguerite Cassini. New York: Harper & Bros.

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Chanler, M. 1934. Roman Spring: Memoirs. Boston: Little, Brown. Chanler, W. 1951. Letters: Collected by Margaret Terry Chanler. New York: privately printed. Colman, E. 1927. White House Gossip. New York: Doubleday. Cordery, S. A. 2007. Alice: Alice Roosevelt Longworth, from White House Princess to Washington Power Broker. New York: Viking. Cordery, S. A. 2010. “The Precious Minutes before the Crowded Hour: Edith and Theodore Roosevelt in Tampa, 1898.” Theodore Roosevelt Association Journal 31: 22–31. Dalton, K. 2002. Theodore Roosevelt: A Strenuous Life. New York: Alfred A. Knopf. Davis, D. 2012. Guest of Honor: Booker T. Washington, Theodore Roosevelt, and the White House Dinner That Shocked a Nation. New York: Atria Books. Goodwin, D. K. 2013. The Bully Pulpit: Theodore Roosevelt, William Howard Taft, and the Golden Age of Journalism. New York: Simon & Schuster. Gould, L. L. 2013. Edith Kermit Roosevelt: Creating the Modern First Lady. Modern First Ladies Series. Lawrence: University Press of Kansas. Green, C. M. 1963. Washington: Capital City, 1879–1950, vol. 2. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Gwynn, S., ed. 1929. The Letters and Friendships of Sir Cecil Spring Rice: A Record, 2 vols. Boston: Houghton Mifflin. Hagedorn, H. 1954. The Roosevelt Family of Sagamore Hill. New York: Macmillan. Hagner, I. 2009. “Memoirs of Isabella Hagner, 1901–1905: Social Secretary to First Lady Edith Carow Roosevelt.” White House History, 26: 53–88. (Also at White House Historical Association, http://www.whitehousehistory. org/whha_publications/publications_ docu­ ments/whitehousehistor y_26‐hagner.pdf, accessed 15 April 2014). Hoganson, K. L. 1998. Fighting for American Manhood: How Gender Politics Provoked the Spanish–American and Philippine–American Wars. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press. Hoover, I. H. 1934. Forty‐two Years in the White House. Boston: Houghton Mifflin. Lansford, T. 2003. A “Bully” First Lady: Edith Kermit Roosevelt. Presidential Wives Series. Hauppauge, NY: Nova History.

Lee, A. H. 1974. Good Innings: The Private Papers of Viscount Lee of Fareham, 3 vols., edited by Alan Clark. London: J. Murray. Kerr, J. P. 1995. A Bully Father: Theodore Roosevelt’s Letters to his Children. New York: Random House. Landau, B. H. 2007. The President’s Table: Two Hundred Years of Dining and Diplomacy. New York: HarperCollins. Levine, S. L. 2011. “‘A Serious Art and Literature of Our Own’: Exploring Theodore Roosevelt’s Art World.” In A Companion to Theodore Roosevelt, edited by S. Ricard, 135–153. Oxford: Wiley Blackwell. Lodge, H. C., ed. 1925. Selections from the Correspondence of Theodore Roosevelt and Henry Cabot Lodge, 1884–1918, 2 vols. New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons. Morris, S. J. 1980. Edith Kermit Roosevelt: Portrait of a First Lady. New York: Modern Library. Ornig, J. R. 1998. My Last Chance to Be a Boy: Theodore Roosevelt’s South American Expedition of 1913–1914. Baton Rouge: Louisiana State University. Parsons, F. T. (Smith). 1951. Perchance Some Day. New York: privately printed. Renehan, E. 1998. The Lion’s Pride: Theodore Roosevelt and His Family in Peace and War. New York: Oxford University Press. Ricard, S., ed. 2011. A Companion to Theodore Roosevelt. Oxford: Wiley Blackwell. Robinson, C. R. 1921. My Brother, Theodore Roosevelt. New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons. Roosevelt, E. K., and K. Roosevelt, eds. 1928. American Backlogs: The Story of Gertrude Tyler and Her Family, 1660–1860. New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons. Roosevelt, E. K. C., B. W. Roosevelt, K. Roosevelt, and R. Derby. 1924. Cleared for Strange Ports. New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons. Roosevelt, N. 1967. Theodore Roosevelt: The Man as I Knew Him. New York: Dodd, Mead. Roosevelt, T. 1954. Letters, 8 vols, edited by E. E. Morison and J. Blum. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Roosevelt, T. 1975. The Autobiography of Theodore Roosevelt, edited by Wayne Andrews. New York: Octagon Books. Roosevelt, T., Jr. 1928. All in the Family. New York: Putnam.



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Seale, W. 2002. “Theodore Roosevelt’s White House.” White House History 11: 29–37. Sewall, W. W. 1919. Bill Sewall’s Story of TR. New York: Harper & Bros. Singleton, E. 1907. The Story of the White House, vol. 2. New York: McClure.Teague, M. 1981. Mrs. L.: Conversations with Alice Roosevelt Longworth. London: Duckworth. Willetts, G. 1908. Inside History of the White House: The Complete History of the Domestic and Official Life in Washington of the Nation’s Presidents and their Families. New York: The Christian Herald. Wister, O. 1930. Roosevelt: The Story of a Friendship, 1880–1919. New York: Macmillan.

Further Reading Daggett, M. P. 1909. “Mrs. Roosevelt: The Woman in the Background.” The Delineator, March: 393–396. Doughty, R. W. 1975. Feather Fashions and Bird Preservation: A Study in Nature Protection. Berkeley: University of California Press. Feinberg, B. S. 1999. Edith Kermit Carow Roosevelt. New York: Children’s Press. Forslund, C. 2010. “‘Off for the Ditch’: Theodore and Edith Roosevelt Visit Panama in 1906.” White House History 28: 28–37. Harbaugh, W. H. 1993. “The Theodore Roosevelts’ Retreat in Southern Albemarle: Pine Knot, 1905–1908.” Magazine of Albemarle County History 51: 1–50.

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Harbaugh, W. H. 1993. The Theodore Roosevelts’ Retreat in Southern Albemarle: Pine Knot, 1905–1908. Charlottesville, VA: Albemarle County Historical Society. Longworth, A. R. 1933. Crowded Hours: Reminiscences of Alice Roosevelt Longworth. New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons. Looker, E. 1929. The White House Gang. New York: Fleming H. Revell. Lorant, S. 1959. The Life and Times of Theodore Roosevelt. New York: Doubleday. National First Ladies Library. “Manuscripts for: Edith Roosevelt.” http://www.firstladies. org/bibliography/manuscripts.aspx?bioid=26 (accessed November 1, 2015). Roosevelt, Mrs. T., Jr. 1959. Day Before Yesterday. New York: Doubleday. Roosevelt, T. 1928. Diaries of Boyhood and Youth. New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons. Slayden, E. M. 1963. Washington Wife: Journal of Ellen Maury Slayden from 1897–1919. New York: Harper & Row. Tyler, D. 1883. Memoirs, edited by D. G. Mitchell. privately printed. Wallace, D. H. 1991. Sagamore Hill: Sagamore Hill National Historic Site, Oyster Bay, New York. Harpers Ferry, WV: National Park Service. White‐Hensen, W., and V. M. Gillespie, eds. 1986. The Theodore Roosevelt Association Film Collection: A Catalog. Washington, DC: Library of Congress. Wood, F. S., ed. 1927. Roosevelt as We Knew Him: The Personal Recollections of One Hundred and Fifty of His Friends and Associates. Philadelphia, PA: John C. Winston.

Chapter Nineteen

Helen Herron Taft: The Forgotten Impact of a Memorable First Lady Rafaele Fierro

Introduction In Nancy Kegan Smith and Mary C. Ryan’s (1989) Modern First Ladies: Their Documentary Legacy, First Lady Eleanor Roosevelt is photographed sitting next to her husband, President Franklin Delano Roosevelt. The caption below the image reads: “Not one to sit quietly in the back seat, Eleanor Roosevelt set the standard for active first ladies” (Smith and Ryan, 1989: 10). The book was written in 1989, at a time when historians began focusing on the role of first lady as an important institution in American history. Eleanor captivated scholars due to her influence on Franklin Delano Roosevelt, her political activism, and her celebrated standing as an American woman. Yet there is a certain irony in the photograph, because Helen Herron Taft, wife of President William Howard Taft, was actually the first first lady to ride back to the White House on Inauguration Day with her husband. Thus, even as historians were beginning to recognize first ladies’ impor­ tance, they were overlooking those less visible in scholarship and popular understanding; Helen Taft therefore still took a backseat to Eleanor Roosevelt and others who occupied

the White House after her. Only in recent years has Mrs. Taft garnered the attention she deserves as a powerful first lady, an i­ nfluential American woman independent of her husband’s presidency, and a trendsetter who set the tone for activism. In one of her most quoted statements, Helen Taft proclaimed: “It always has been my ambition to see Mr. Taft President of the United States” (quoted in Waggenspack, 2004: 59). In fact Helen Taft’s ambitions for her husband went deeper than his own, as she played an invaluable role in getting him to the White House and took great pride in helping him manage political affairs once he was there. It may well have been because of her determination and insistence that his primary personal goal—becoming chief justice of the Supreme Court—was delayed until well after his presidency. Once William Taft became president, Helen worked tirelessly as his confidante and p­olitical partner, even as she took on the traditional role of first lady. She was no ordinary president’s wife. Not since Abigail Adams more than a century before did a first lady have so much sway over her hus­ band in the public sphere, though Helen (known as “Nellie” to those close to her)

A Companion to First Ladies, First Edition. Edited by Katherine A. S. Sibley. © 2016 John Wiley & Sons, Inc. Published 2016 by John Wiley & Sons, Inc.



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eschewed her own political career. William Taft’s political path cannot be understood without a thorough examination of Mrs. Taft, a fact that historians have ignored until recently. For many years, biographers did not take much of an interest in Helen Taft. Any attention they paid to her began and ended with her husband. They were content to allow him to obscure her—and not only through his size. They surveyed her tangen­ tially and viewed her distinct qualities as mere quirkiness. After her death in 1943, Mrs. Taft remained a forgotten part of American history for the better part of forty years. Even in the 1980s, when historians began reconsidering her as a subject of h­istorical inquiry, their attention to her was infrequent. A biography devoted entirely to Nellie Taft that depicted her as a prominent actor in presidential politics would have to wait until 2005; and only one other has been written since. Even today, as one of those biographers, Louis Gould, notes, “of all the twentieth‐century First Ladies, Helen Herron Taft remains the most obscure and least understood” (Gould, 2010: 1). A Brief Biographical Sketch Nellie’s hometown of Cincinnati, Ohio was a bustling city by the mid‐nineteenth c­entury. A small but powerful Anglo elite mingled with an increasing number of German immigrants, African Americans, and Catholics to form a diverse population. Its civic life rivaled that of eastern cities such as New York and Boston due to its burgeoning number of associations, which were the life­ blood of the community and provided some sense of cohesion, thus undermining the potential for ethnic and religious conflict. While the Civil War tore the country apart, many families of wealth and culture made Cincinnati more prestigious than most w­ estern cities. The city’s cultural elite insisted on the education of its citizens and,

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while men were the chief beneficiaries, well‐ to‐do women inherited many of the advan­ tages of “intellectual activity” in this highly “public‐spirited society” (Taft, 1914: 6). Nellie Taft, all the same, considered the city as “unattractive as any place well could be,” largely because of the grime, smoke, and noise that characterized many northern cit­ ies at the time (Alice Roosevelt Longworth once called the city “Cin‐cin‐nasty”) (Taft, 1914: 1). One of the organizations that drew Cincinnati’s men of “good stock” and great social character was the Literary Club of Cincinnati, founded in 1849. The group boasted members who would later make names for themselves, including Rutherford B. Hayes and the father of future President William Howard Taft. They, like others of the city’s elite, sought to escape the shadow of eastern metropolises and to carve out an important niche for it along the Ohio River. Helen Herron Taft was born in Cincinnati in 1861, the daughter of prominent parents, John and Harriet Herron, and the fourth of 11 children, eight of whom survived to adulthood. Her father was a respected local attorney and eventually became a law p­artner of future President Rutherford B. Hayes. Her mother was the daughter and granddaughter of congressmen. Nellie was bred in comfort, but the sheer number of siblings caused her a childhood angst that later morphed into adolescent anguish. Thus, while growing up, Helen continu­ ously referred to herself as “number three,” because two other siblings came before her (a fourth child died in childbirth). Helen grew to resent especially Emily, the eldest daughter, from whom she soon distanced herself. These family circumstances, Carl Anthony suggests, turned her into an “a­ nxious debutante,” who developed “a repressed nervousness” that impacted the rest of her life and drove her to pursue greater goals than other young women in her social position (Anthony, 2005: 25). While other scholars do not offer such

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psychoanalysis, they too claim that “all through her adolescence she was dissatisfied with herself” (Ross, 1964: 83), and that her mother “counseled [her] not to attempt too much” (Caroli, 1998: 125). Her father was hardly ever home and spent even holidays at the office. That hers was a politically c­ onnected family going back generations, not surprisingly, made her channel her repression into a fascination with politics. At the same time Helen became some­ thing of a renegade, a “bohemian” as some called her (Wolfskill, 1989: 26). She acquainted herself with young men and women of her social class and out of it, often smoking, drinking, and gambling. This last activity was always an effort designed, it seemed, to show her competitive edge, eager as she was to beat those with whom she socialized; at the same time it provided an outlet from the mundane nature of her daily life. Also, alcohol was not, in her case, a road to alcoholism, but rather a way to accentuate her eccentric manner, as she ven­ tured occasionally into the German section of town to enjoy beer. Nonetheless, emolu­ ments provided only temporary satisfaction. She needed other, more important activities, such as music and education, to deliver her from the personal sense of isolation she felt. Nellie also took advantage of her educa­ tional opportunities by enrolling in the city’s prestigious Miss Nourse School for Girls, where many elite females received rig­ orous instruction in literature and foreign languages: Helen learned several languages, German and French among them. Her mother bore primary responsibility for ensuring Helen’s education, while her father immersed himself in law and politics. Twice elected state senator, John Herron eventu­ ally became a US attorney under President Benjamin Harrison, with whom he had gone to college at Miami University in Ohio. In Nellie’s childhood household e­ducation and politics went therefore hand in hand, and this union had a profound impact on her thinking.

Her biographical account reveals an event from her childhood that she describes as “unusual.” This was her first visit to the White House, at the age of sixteen, “as a guest of President and Mrs. Hayes”—an occasion that made her dream of one day becoming first lady herself (Taft, 1914: 6). Because her parents knew the Hayeses, the Executive Mansion seemed within reach from this point on. The visit stayed with her for years and helped her formulate her first thoughts of one day making her home there. This would not be the only time she visited the White House as a young woman. Helen also developed a love for music from an early age. She played the piano, often practicing for six hours a day, to the amazement of her peers. She worked at it “with such persistence that I wonder the whole neighborhood did not rebel” (quoted in Gould, 2010: 5). She considered making a career out of teaching music or becoming a musician. Later one contemporary maga­ zine would claim that Helen, while in the White House, “knows music as no first lady ever did” (“Mrs. Taft’s Homemaking,” 1911). In these early years, however, her mother discouraged her from pursuing music, calling it “a useless expense”: it was unbecoming for a young woman of the Victorian era who “must have” her new dresses (Anthony, 2005: 35). Perhaps in reaction to her mother’s priorities, Nellie redirected her interests further into politics and education. And, although she would continue to play the piano for the rest of her life, this did not seem to be enough at this early stage for a young débutante who struggled with her life’s direction. She needed more. The problem was that women of her era lacked serious career opportunities. Marriage was expected, but Helen Herron fretted about the prospect of matrimony and “doubted she would ever marry”—not because men did not take an interest in her, but rather because she found it so stifling (Caroli 2003: 124). She sought temporary



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asylum by becoming a French teacher at a primary school on Cincinnati’s Pike Street, but the job did not inspire her enough to make her want to continue. She occasionally agonized about her fate and became depressed, like so many young women of her status. “Is it any wonder,” she asked, “I have the blues? From oneself there is no escape. I am sick and tired of myself.” Her privileged position did not alleviate her s­adness: “I would rather be anyone else even someone who has not some advantages I have [,] and I am only nineteen” (quoted in Anthony, 2005: 38). The limitations placed on educated women of this era, and the ensuing frustrations, have been well covered in works like Charlotte Perkins Gilman’s The Yellow Wallpaper and Jane Addams’s Hull House, published respectively in 1892 and 1910. With the assistance of two friends, she found solace from the drudgery of privi­ leged inertia by starting a “salon” where she invited young people to engage in erudite intellectual, political, and economic discus­ sions (Caroli, 2003: 125). There she honed her oratory skills and gained more knowl­ edge in political and cultural activities. “We were bent on improving our minds,” she wrote in her diary. One of her cohorts in this group was her future husband, Will Taft, whose family lived in the same neigh­ borhood as the Herrons. Will’s father, like hers, practiced law and thus knew Helen’s father. The two older men, “warm friends,” had instilled in their children a similar love of education and p­olitics. It seemed natural for Will to attend Yale, since all the Taft boys did. He gradu­ ated in 1878. As for Nellie, although she never received a formal college education (she did take two courses while briefly enrolled at the University of Cincinnati), her knowledge impressed Will and gave them much to talk about socially. After c­ ollege Will stayed near home, attending the University of Cincinnati Law School, which enabled him to keep his close ties

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with Nellie, who all the while became increasingly impressed with his ambition and educational achievement. Throughout the late 1870s and early1880s, Nellie carried on mild flirtations with many boys of her age, but it was Will who seemed to possess what she wanted first and foremost in a man: the qualities for high political office. And, because the two were part of the same social circle, they would see each other regularly even before anything romantic had yet surfaced. Will, for one, seemed to relish Nellie’s independent streak and her fascination with things such as g­ambling and drinking, which were out of character in a young Victorian woman (Anthony, 2005: 57). He referred to her “intellectual superiority” and “well‐ informed mind” (Lurie, 2012: 14). While he was forming a strong bond of friendship with Nellie, Will began to p­ractice law. He served for a year as assistant to the Cincinnati prosecutor before President Chester A. Arthur nominated him to the post of collector of internal revenue in a f­ ederal district with headquarters in Cincinnati, where he witnessed the graft and corruption so characteristic of Gilded Age politics (Lurie, 2011: 10). By this time Will’s father had become a major figure in Ohio republican politics, and Will began stumping for the Republican Party at both the local and national levels. These legal and political interests would have only cemented his bonds with Nellie. Since his Yale days, Will had been known for his unassailable character and capacity for injecting morality into politics. Helen quickly became impressed with his public activity in Cincinnati, particularly his desire to root out graft and mismanagement and to take on “the corruption that could cloak federal office holding” (Lurie, 2011: 11). In her Recollections, Helen recounts the case of Tom Campbell, a criminal lawyer suspected of taking bribes and of tampering with juries and witnesses. Will made it his calling to expose Campbell, much to the appreciation

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of Cincinnati residents (Taft, 1914: 10–15). Young Taft thus represented a generation of politicians who one day would be called Progressives, moral reformers who believed that American society could be cleansed by eradicating corruption in business, politics, and culture. They thought that, by e­ducating people about wayward business practices, dishonest political activities, and the pitfalls of their own depraved behavior, it would be possible to make America a better place. As Will was making his way in this rough and tumble political world, Nellie drew closer to him. He, in turn, fell in love with her. She refused his proposal twice, because “I have always thought that a woman should be independent and not regard matrimony as the only thing to be desired in life” (quoted in Caroli, 2003: 124). This denun­ ciation of marriage was “custom for well‐ bred young women” living in the Victorian era (Waggenspack, 2004: 61), but Helen had a particularly strong distrust of wedded bliss, as her diary suggests. At the age of twenty‐five, however, she finally relented. In that same diary Nellie wrote, poetically: St. Valentine the good! Now cheer & cheer him still For giving Will to Nellie And giving Nellie to Will To him belongs all praise, To him your bumpers fill For giving Will to Nellie And giving Nellie to Will. (Ross, 1964: 88)

They would become engaged in May 1885 and married in June of the following year. Physically the two stood in stark contrast, just as their divergent personalities seemed to attract. Aged twenty‐eight on his wed­ ding day, Will was already a big man who towered over his companion. The New York Times would later describe Nellie as “a woman of medium height,” [who] “looks even smaller beside her portly spouse. She

has a slender and graceful figure, pretty e­arnest brown eyes that look directly into the eyes of her interviewer, and a serious but altogether agreeable expression” (“The Family and Home,” 1908). The newspaper went on to say that Mrs. Taft was the “ideal companion for Mr. Taft’s tastes and attain­ ments.” William agreed when he later asserted: “I measure every woman I meet with you and they are all found wanting” (quoted in Ross, 1964: 147). In 1888 he was elected to a five‐year term on the Cincinnati superior court, at which point Nellie began “to fear the narrowing effects of the Bench” (Anthony, 2005: 93). For Nellie, the bright side was that Will’s burgeoning judicial career provided her with a ticket out of Cincinnati and into the more exciting life of Washington, DC. In 1890 he accepted the post of solicitor gen­ eral of the United States. He believed that the position increased the possibility of his becoming chief justice some day, but Nellie largely saw it as an opportunity for her h­usband to become more tied to Washington politics, which might set him on a path to the presidency. While Will’s career devel­ oped as he rose to be a judge for the US Sixth Curcuit Court of Appeals in 1892, Nellie was chiefly preoccupied with their three children: Robert, born in 1889; Helen, who arrived two years later, in 1891; and her younger son Charles, born in 1897. However, she did co‐found the Cincinnati Symphony Orchestra Organization during this time, and she also served as its president (First Lady Biography, n.d.). Part of her attachment to Will Taft had always been the great promise he showed for a career in politics and his clear respect for her intelligence as his equal. He would tell her on many occasions that she had an “intellectual superiority over any woman I know” (quoted in Caroli, 2003: 125). Due to the constraints placed upon women at the turn of the century, she was compelled to live vicariously through his professional ambitions; few women during this time



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sought or succeeded in attaining careers in politics themselves. According to Betty Boyd Caroli, Helen thus “chose the older route to the top—through her husband’s career” (2003: 127). This assessment too quickly dismisses Helen’s own agency, h­owever. While Helen still maintained her traditional role as wife and mother, she also helped make Will’s political career possible, exploiting the circumstances that unfolded throughout the 1890s, which would push him into government, just as Nellie wanted. Helen Taft wanted her husband to enter into elective politics more than he did. Whenever he expressed his desire to remain on the bench, she tried to redirect him toward politics. Will had spent much of the 1890s honing his judicial career; along with his work as a circuit judge, he became a c­onstitutional law professor at the University of Cincinnati. In the process—and also as a result of his achievements as a Cincinnati reformer—his renown outside his home­ town grew, and in 1900 he received a call from Washington, seemingly “out of the blue.” President William McKinley offered him a post as commissioner of the Philippines, a challenging assignment in which he would be charged with creating a civil government and establishing order in this new American colony wracked by war­ fare, internal strife, poor sanitation, and lack of other public facilities. Will informed the president that he could not accept unless Nellie approved. Not surprisingly, she urged him to take the post, which, she thought, he could use as a springboard to the ­presidency—while it provided her with the type of e­xcitement she had always craved. Nellie loved to travel and thought the Philippines would be part of a marvelous journey through the Orient. Nellie did indeed get to travel to Hawaii and Japan, eventually making her way through the South China Sea to join her husband in the Philippines. While Will s­ucceeded in bringing order to the island (if not democracy), Nellie contented herself

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with living in a mansion characterized by “garish windows, heavy Spanish furniture, mosquito‐netted high‐canopied beds with cane bottoms, and white wicker every­ where” as well as by a “breathtaking view of [Manila] Bay and mountains, often marked by a rainbow” (Anthony, 2005: 130–31). Assisted by Chinese servants, Nellie hosted gala events, which she considered her pri­ mary function—in addition to advising her husband on political matters. She was struck by the diversity of the Filipino people and showed her egalitarian impulses by shaking hands with the islands people every time she had a chance, much to the disdain of General Arthur MacArthur (Douglas’s father). MacArthur, also in the country with his sixty thousand American troops, was repulsed by any hint of social equality between Anglos and Asians. Nellie also s­ upported fully the US policy in the Philippines, although the American approach was an imperialist one, which rejected independence and expected the islanders to be grateful for America’s “benevolent” care, as President McKinley put it in a proclamation on December 21, 1898. It was during Will’s tenure in the Philippines in October 1901 that the shock­ ing news arrived of President McKinley’s assassination. Will had good relations with the new president, Theodore Roosevelt, but did not know him well. Regardless, Theodore kept him on in the Philippines, and Taft’s political career benefitted greatly from this stint. Although he was still reluc­ tant to enter into the world of politics, forces beyond his control, combined with Nellie’s guidance over the progress of his career, would soon make him a highly sought‐after figure. In October 1902 a Supreme Court vacancy arose, and Roosevelt offered Will the position. However, “the people of the Philippines intervened and made it clear they wanted Governor Taft to remain at his post,” so he declined (Gould, 2010: 17).

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In 1904 another possibility emerged when Elihu Root stepped down as secretary of war and Roosevelt promptly offered the position to Will. Helen exhorted him to accept because “it was more pleasing to me than the offer of the Supreme Court appointment, [and] was in line with the kind of work I wanted my husband to do, the kind of career I wanted for him and expected him to have” (quoted in Anthony, 2005: 173). She told Taft that he must accept the job. Though his desire for it paled in comparison to her own, he was unable to resist. Helen soon learned that the wife of a s­ecretary of war had a very different role from that of the wife of a governor of the Philippines. She did not have servants, as she had in Manila, and she was expected to make formal calls on the spouses of Cabinet members, government bureaucrats, and army officials and to hold weekly meetings. She was also called upon to attend each week First Lady Edith Roosevelt’s “plan­ ning conferences,” at which Cabinet wives would be instructed in on how to limit their own entertaining so as to not outshine the first lady. To Helen, this was all “monotonous stress” (Caroli, 2003: 122, 127). It was clear from the beginning that Helen felt uncomfortable with Mrs. Roosevelt. She was intimidated by Edith’s wealth, and their habits differed as well. While Edith, given her family history of alcoholism, did not like the “hard‐drinking side of Washington life,” Nellie drank almost daily (Gould, 2010: 18). She also smoked, at a time when women of her status did not—especially in public. Anthony (2005: 100) suggests that Nellie may also have been “jealous” of Edith because her hus­ band, Theodore, had the “personal quali­ ties” suitable in a president that she wished her husband to have had. Regardless of the reasons, it seems clear that she had no fond­ ness for Edith, as she told her daughter: “I don’t like Mrs. Roosevelt at all. I never did” (quoted in Anthony, 2005: 100). The ladies’

personalities clashed, and this marked the start of a rift between Nellie and the Roosevelts that would last for many years— since it would be exacerbated by Helen’s personal insistence to President Roosevelt that he choose Will to succeed him (she remained convinced that Theodore might run again in 1908 despite his promises), and then underlined in 1912 by Theodore Roosevelt’s bid for president, which p­revented Will’s reelection. Ironically, during this time Will’s relationship in the Cabinet with the president became friendlier, as they often consulted each other on important matters of state. Despite her uneasiness in her new role, Helen loved political affairs. Yet she contin­ ued to worry that the president would once again offer Will a position on the bench in 1906, when a vacancy emerged. This time, however, Helen did not keep her thoughts private; she took action. It is not clear who scheduled the meeting between Nellie and Roosevelt, but the president wrote to Will later that, after “a half hour’s appointment with your dear wife,” he understood why Will could not accept the appointment (Caroli, 1995: 128). By that time a Taft for President movement had begun, which was more to Helen’s liking. Roosevelt had made it clear that he would not seek reelection; nor did notables like Elihu Root want a nomination. This placed Taft in the lead, especially because two very powerful people in his life propelled him toward it—Roosevelt and Nellie. Will slowly came around. Meanwhile Nellie read Washington newspapers voraciously and knew exactly what the points of criticism against her husband were. She insisted, for example, that Will not talk too much about the tariff question: “I shouldn’t wonder if your dragging the tariff into that Maine speech would cost you the nomination.” When he disagreed with her, she pressed him: “The Washington papers give so much prominence to it, that you would suppose it was the principal point of the speech”



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(quoted in Anthony, 2005: 198). Nellie had also questioned some of his decisions as s­ecretary of war, largely out of fear of how they would play out in the media. She further broke precedent as a candidate’s wife by speaking to a journalist on the campaign trail. “I love public life,” she explained to the reporter, “to me this is better than when Mr. Taft was at the bar and on the bench” (quoted in Anthony, 2005: 215). From June 1908, when Will secured the nomina­ tion, and through the course of the election campaign, Nellie only became more involved, one biographer calling her “a backstage force in her husband’s presidential candidacy” (Gould, 2010: 25). Will, upon his election, still felt uncom­ fortable with the prospect of occupying the White House; as Anthony (2005: 16) writes, “he had no fire in his belly … no special vision.” He did have Nellie, however, and pronounced that, “as my wife is the politi­ cian, she will be able to meet all the issues” (quoted in Caroli, 2003: 126). Theirs was a joint arrangement in which Will could put to use his political talent, uninhibited by the constraints of gender, while she could uti­ lize her great managerial skill behind the scenes. Nellie acted as his unofficial but closest “campaign adviser,” critiquing his speeches and taking him to task on policy questions. On the eve of his election, the New York Tribune reported that “Mrs. Taft has never made the mistake of letting her husband outgrow her in his interests. She is informed on all subjects that interest him or touch his career” (“Mrs. Taft Portrayed,” 1908). Helen was a political animal but tried hard not to direct too much public atten­ tion to it; this was in large measure due to the conflicting messages women faced d­uring the first few decades of the twentieth century (Waggenspack, 2004: 59). Helen’s position reflected women’s struggle to reach beyond the private sphere. Such develop­ ments as the fight for women’s suffrage and the increasing number of women who

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established themselves in professional careers, entered colleges, and joined p­rofessional organizations clashed with the traditional domestic expectations of that era. Women like Nellie Taft had to be cautious about how to proceed in terms of reform. Progressivism gave women the ammuni­ tion to renew their fight for equality and for improving society at the same time. It was in this context that in 1920 women at last achieved the right to vote, for instance. They were promised political equality while they brought their so‐called purity, as well as a reforming spirit, to the political process. While Helen Taft’s smoking and drinking might conflict with that image of women’s “purity,” she very much symbolized this political transformation of the progressive era. She was feisty, opinionated, determined, and at times combative, especially when it came to politics—in a cultural climate where “many women felt uncomfortable treading in a domain for which they were unprepared and unwelcome” (Waggenspack, 2004: 59). The era may not have permitted her to hold office herself, but more than one historian has noted how she “achieved an even higher profile within first her husband’s campaign and then in his impending administration” (Gould, 2010: 23). Helen may have felt unwelcome in the political realm, but never unprepared. For instance, she had a firm grasp of the tariff issue that divided the Republican Party and she was well informed on US foreign policy, often viewing issues through the prism of politics and of how they would impact her husband’s popularity and legacy. She knew her history, mastering the details of virtually every occupant of the White House who preceded her. She was well equipped to advise her husband, unof­ ficially and privately, about the important matters he would face as president. In her Recollections, Helen called the day when her husband was elected “the realiza­ tion of her dreams,” though she never made too much of this publicly. As she busied h­erself getting ready to occupy the White

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House, she described this time as “an excep­ tionally happy one,” filled with euphoria and anticipation (Taft, 1914: 324). The next several months would be exhilarating, yet tedious and stressful for her. Will, on the other hand, would never grow accustomed to the presidency. More than one bio­grapher has noted that he seemed to prefer golfing to wrestling with difficult political issues (von Natta, 2004: 129). If George Washington was “His Excellency” and John Tyler “His Accidency,” William Taft might rightfully be dubbed “His Reluctancy.” As noted above, Helen rode back to the White House with President Taft on Inauguration Day. She had “taken her place at my husband’s side,” in “spite of p­ rotests”—including some from members of the inaugural planning committee (Taft, 1914: 331). Theodore Roosevelt, the o­utgoing president, had declined to ride in the presidential motorcade with the incoming Taft, a practice that had become customary. So Helen decided to take Roosevelt’s place, arguing baldly that, if the former president could break with tradition, then so could she. “For me,” the new first lady explained triumphantly, “it was the proudest and happiest event of Inauguration Day.” She even turned it into a small victory for women when she declared: “Perhaps I had a little secret elation in thinking that I was doing something which no woman had ever done before” (Taft, 1914: 332). One historian noted how this act set the scene for Nellie “to play an important role in her husband’s administration” (Caroli, 1995: 129). Still, she had respect for tradition. When the u­shers greeted Will and Helen shortly after the inauguration, she felt as if she were in a fairy tale. She “could not help but feel something as Cinderella must have felt when her mice footmen bowed her into her coach and four and behaved just as if they had c­onducted her to a court ball every night of her life” (Taft, 1914: 333). While Helen staked out new ground, she also contented herself with “my responsibilities”

once in the White House. These of course included her growing children: Robert, now nineteen, Helen, seventeen, and Charles, eleven, whom the press found to be a close‐ knit, photogenic group. As journalists soon recognized, to the extent that her new home possessed decorative taste, “it is due to the domestic genius of Mrs. Taft” (“Mrs. Taft’s Homemaking,” 1911). Newspaper report­ ers described her as “the ideal homemaker” (“The Family and Home,” 1908). Nellie began complaining that Edith Roosevelt had left her with a limited linen supply and that many rooms in the White House needed refurbishing. She eagerly took on the role of White House hostess and loved the job, holding garden parties and theatri­ cal and musical performances on the White House lawn. While she reveled in political discussions, she also loved to wear d­iamonds, cherished flowers, and enjoyed fine food, and the White House provided opportunities to cultivate these passions. Archie Butt—a military aide to the Roosevelts who oversaw the transition to the Taft presidency, and friend of the Tafts until he died aboard the Titanic in 1912—said that she ran the White House royally. The president in fact called her “the Queen of the Palace.” Nellie also obsessed over the cleanliness of the White House, making sure that every room was spotless, sometimes running her fingers atop furniture to satisfy herself that no dust could be detected. This sometimes caused friction between Nellie and her staff, as chronicled by Butt: “Mrs. Taft is very blunt in her manner,” he wrote to his mother, “though she is an intellectual woman and a woman of wonderful executive ability” (quoted in Anthony, 2005: 220). Insiders like Archie Butt knew just how much power Nellie Taft had—and not only over the household’s aesthetics (Taft, 1914: 333). She also exerted influence on her husband’s administration. When a woman wrote to Helen asking her to intercede on behalf of her sister who sought a government job, the Civil Service Commission reported



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that “this is a case in which Mrs. Taft is interested and … [thus] the President may wish to issue” an executive order (Wolfskill, 1989: 30). Nellie also suggested a personal friend for an appointment to a Justice Department post. Diplomat Henry White was being considered for a high‐profile appointment when the first lady interceded against him, ending his chances. Senator Henry Cabot Lodge, a White supporter, was outraged by Helen’s influence on the president (Gould, 2010: 43). In another case, she found a nominee “perfectly awful and his family are even worse,” and these views influenced her husband (Caroli, 1995: 132). Caroli adds that Nellie “preferred staying close to the center of power rather than being shunted off” to some more typi­ cal woman’s task. She quotes the president as acknowledging Nellie’s clout when he wrote to her as if they were co‐leaders: “I think you and I can look back with some pleasure in having done something for the benefit of the public weal” (Caroli, 1995: 130). Helen occasionally argued that politics is a man’s world and “I do not believe in a woman meddling in politics”; but, as these examples suggest, she did not hesitate to offer her opinion, even when it differed from that of her husband. Against Will’s wishes, she allowed alcohol to be served at White House functions, and did not refrain from telling him what she thought of Theodore Roosevelt. She had a great sense of politi­ cal timing and, as recent historians have attested, had presidential ambitions herself (Waggenspack, 2004: 73). The New York Times agreed with Helen’s own assertion that she “never talks politics” though “she understands that science from start to finish” (quoted in Morrisey, 2009: 107). William Taft hated conflict; Helen never recoiled from it. At the same time Will was astute enough to know that he had an intelligent wife; he listened intently to her opinions on a wide range of subjects and seldom over­ ruled her, referring to Nellie as his “power­ ful political partner” (Anthony, 2005: 260).

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Anthony, Gould, and Morrisey have underlined her forcefulness, providing examples from her contemporaries. Often cited, for instance, is George Griswold Hill, writer for the Ladies’ Home Journal, who echoed the sentiments of many of Nellie’s contemporaries and betrayed his own assumptions about assertive women of the era when he wrote: “Mrs. Taft defends her opinions and wishes with almost masculine vigor” (Anthony, 2005: 229). For many years, those who bothered d­iscussing Helen’s contribution to history at all saw her crowning achievement as being her decision to have hundreds of Japanese cherry trees planted in Washington in order to overcome the city’s congestion, smoke, and grime. Her close acquaintance with Japan during her travels in Asia made her fall in love with the beautiful flowers and plants that grew in that part of the world. For many years, historians saw the blossoming of the cherry trees as her main legacy (Ross, 1964). In fact one of her biographers considered this to be one of her two great accomplish­ ments as first lady (Gould, 2010: 2). But of greater impact than her enhance­ ment of Washington’s springtime scene was her introduction of a vibrant cultural life in the capital city through her love of music and entertaining. Helen made sure there were numerous garden parties, musicales, dances, and dinners held at the White House. She brought highly reputed musi­ cians—such as the violinists Fritz Kreisler and Efrem Zimbalist, or the pianists Fannie Bloomfield‐Zeisler and Olga Samaroff—to the White House to perform. Nellie came up with the concept of having a musical p­erformance after each state dinner. As one of her biographers asserts, Helen’s “main campaign” was to “fill the White House with the finest serious music and musicians that her country afforded” (Gould, 2010: 2). Judith Icke Anderson notes that the Tafts “entertained more people and more elaborately than had any previous couple in the White House” (Anderson, 1981: 157).

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These unprecedented activities were Helen’s doing; she did not bother with what past first ladies had done, but rather broke with tradition when she felt compelled to do so. Past presidential wives understood, accepted, and even embraced their traditional role as first ladies, while Helen transformed the post. Mary Todd Lincoln became obsessed with refashioning the White House décor; Julia Grant concerned herself with White House guest lists for gala events; Frances Cleveland became something of a national celebrity for hosting receptions at the White House. Helen was different. While she embraced the first lady’s traditional responsibilities, she also believed her role went well beyond White House fashion, food, and décor. Ladies’ Home Journal, for instance, found her “most remarkable because of the mentor role she played for her husband” (Anthony, 2005: 229). As this chapter has also shown, some historians have argued that Helen micromanaged her husband’s political career (Waggenspack, 2004: 75). For this reason perhaps, Theodore Roosevelt did not consider her “a proper American woman,” an assertion that reflected the emerging rift between the Roosevelts and the Tafts (Anthony, 2005: 18). Contemporaries agreed that she was a path breaker. In a manner that raised eye­ brows, one newspaper announced that “Mrs. Taft drives her own automobile in the streets of Washington,” which was appar­ ently unprecedented for a first lady (“Mrs. Taft Driver of Her Own Car,” 1909). The New York Times reported that “Mrs. Taft is distinctly averse to being dictated to,” thus demonstrating her resolute and firm nature (“New Regime within the White House,” 1909). White House usher Irwin Hoover “pictured Mrs. Taft as continually projecting herself into official discussion”: one area she influenced was who would receive diplomatic posts (Wolfskill, 1989: 28–29). Without proclaiming herself a feminist, Helen Taft reflected feminist values more than any of her predecessors. She was the

first first lady to express her public support of women’s voting, though at times she wavered on the issue. She insisted that women be allowed to go to college, as she had done by taking courses in German and chemistry during her brief stay at the University of Cincinnati. She believed that women were not inferior to men, only that “the responsibilities of life are discharged differently” between men and women. No wonder she used her power as first lady to get jobs in government for women (Anthony, 2005: 52). Using the White House as a bully pulpit, she did more than most to raise women’s profile. Her push for gender equality made her keenly aware of inequality elsewhere. A biographer called her “egalitarian” in nature, and she seldom invited guests to the White House more than once, so that oth­ ers who had never been there could have their chance too—including those deemed “undesirable,” such as immigrants and African Americans (Anthony, 2005: 231). She rejected the popular eugenicist thinking of her day and believed that much of the dif­ ference between racial groups stemmed from lack of opportunity. She supported kindergarten classes for African American children and provided jobs for African Americans on the White House staff. When an Italian girl was badly injured in a Massachusetts factory, she attended a c­ongressional hearing on the girl’s behalf. Indeed, even before her husband became president, Nellie had been interested in the work of organized labor, and in December 1908 had given one of her few public speeches at the National Civic Federation’s annual meeting in New York City. There she vowed she would do everything she could to protect workers from unsafe conditions. While first lady, she made an inspection tour of workplace conditions for the employees in each executive department, who were mostly female, and in 1912 her efforts helped change the law on behalf of the Washington working class. In March 1912



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President Taft, greatly encouraged by his wife, signed Executive Order 1498, which provided for the Bureau of Public Health’s inspection of all government buildings and offices of the executive branch and stand­ ardized the maintenance of sanitary and safe conditions. Although she did not always defend workers, she was especially sympa­ thetic to women and children in the labor force. Caroli’s comment that the first lady “never supported reforms for her sex in general” overlooks this concern. Making the speech at the National Civic Federation, moreover, was an entirely new step for any woman in her position. As Anthony s­uggests: “there was no history at all of a First lady publicly associating herself with a national organization of public policy,” and she had done exactly that (Anthony, 2005: 250). Helen’s activism during her White House years becomes even more remarkable in light of the stroke she suffered some two months after Will’s inauguration. Nellie’s family and the White House staff made every effort to keep from public view the extent of the damage she suffered. Because of this desire to keep Helen’s illness private, newspapers at the time simply called her stroke “mental exhaustion.” She was uncon­ scious for more than four days. In the weeks and months after her stroke she could hardly speak at all. Only gradually, over the course of months and years, did she regain her speech, but never again to the same fluency and articulation. Though she never lost her ability to understand what was going on around her, she had to relearn how to read and write. As well, she became insecure about her appearance, avoided White House gala events, and ceased being the central presence she had been. As one historian has noted, it was the great tragedy of her life that she could not continue to play the dominant role in his political life that she once had. Will missed her presence greatly, as his correspondence reveals. Henceforth Helen called on her sister Eleanor and on her daughter Helen to aid her in

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her recovery. The younger Helen put her studies at Bryn Mawr College on hold t­emporarily in order to assist. Though she slowly recuperated, Nellie felt the impact of the stroke for the rest of her life and could no longer push the boundaries of her role as first lady. While she recovered enough to host their famed silver wedding anniversary party in June 1911—a gala affair with five thousand guests, many of whom brought silver vessels in abundance, from chalices to candlesticks—she was much less visible and would not play an active role in trying to get her husband reelected in 1912. All the same, she expressed outrage at Roosevelt’s s­plitting the Republican Party by running against Taft in the Bull Moose Party. The stroke set her back, yet it did not stop her from influencing Will from behind the scenes, or from continuing to remake the White House into an entertainment venue filled with good music. One can only i­ magine, however, the trajectory of her power had she not become debilitated. In Lewis Gould’s (2011) My Dearest Nellie: the Letters of William Howard Taft to Helen Herron Taft, 1909–1912 we get a glimpse into Helen’s inner being and into the couple’s intimate relationship during the White House years. Her stroke early on in Taft’s presidency prevented Helen from traveling with her husband, as she would normally have done. This served as the p­retext for the president’s letters, 113 in all, to his wife. While most of these reveal his outlook on matters of public policy, they also give us a sense of his relationship with Nellie and of her tremendous power over him, as person and as president. He informed her of his pressure on Congress to act on issues such as the tariff, and in doing so he solicited her educated opinions and her s­upport on these issues. In one communication from October 1909, Will wrote to Nellie about his popularity in the South as he toured that section of the country: “The good will of the southern people,” the p­resident commented, “I cannot be mistaken

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about. I am sure I have it” (Gould, 2011: 107). At the same time, he did not spare Helen from the machinations of his political opponents; her understanding of these d­ifficulties was also important to him. The president complained, for instance, in a 1911 letter that his initiatives would “be twisted by enemies as usual,” and that there “is nothing they will not stop at to besmirch me” (Gould, 2011: 155). In the summer of 1912, as Will grew worried about his chances of being reelected, he wrote to Nellie about a San Francisco Call’s editorial “denouncing me as an ally of the interests” (Gould, 2011: 239). The Call’s board had supported Taft earlier, in 1908. It is clear from this and other letters that Nellie was informed on many of the issues (Gould, 2011: 266, 274). As the president prepared to run for reelection against both Democrat Woodrow Wilson and Bull Moose Theodore Roosevelt, he expounded to his wife his detailed plan of action for winning a second term (Gould, 2011: 195). Nellie’s own Recollections describe her anger as they both realized that he would not be reelected (Taft, 1914: 390–394). In a revealing statement, she lamented: “Mr. Taft had never been subjected to bitter c­riticism and wholesale attack until his term in the Presidency,” yet the only thing he could be criticized for was “not knowing much and caring less about the way the game of politics is played” (Taft, 1914: 392). Historians have largely ignored these letters, yet they signify much about Nellie’s know­ ledge and her close advising role. Nellie was appalled at the criticism l­eveled at her husband and found herself in “a state of almost constant rage” from what she read in opposition newspapers (Taft, 1914: 392). She was also angered in the last days of his presidency about police brutality against women, enough so that she attended a House Rules committee inquiry in March 1912. She “listened aghast” at the reports (many of the women were strikers in the textile industry in the aftermath of the

Triangle Fire) and used her presence at the committee meeting to help bring attention to the issue (“Mrs. Taft Hears,” 1912). Considering the resistance that Hillary Clinton faced when using her office to effect change some eighty years later, it is remark­ able how pioneering Helen’s activism was in opening a path for first ladies who followed her. Her advocacy originated in part from her belief that the office of the president is “a public trust,” and she wished to bring to the White House “the highest and broadest democracy” (Anthony, 2005: 230). After her husband left office, Nellie and Will took up residence in New Haven, Connecticut, where he became a professor at Yale Law School. Not surprisingly given his interests in law, he was happier than he had been since before his tenure as presi­ dent; but Nellie was depressed. In June 1921 President Warren Harding nominated Taft to be chief justice of the Supreme Court, which became the fulfillment of his dream: “It is the comfort and dignity and power without worry I like,” he stated, in almost exactly the same words Helen had described her role as first lady many years before (quoted in Anderson, 1981: 259). Now she was alone a good deal, especially after her daughter went back to school and Charlie enrolled at Yale in 1914. Will, who traveled often in these post‐White House years, had his own personal secretary, and Nellie “was largely removed from [his] new life” (Anthony, 2005: 362). As a way of coping with her new role, she busied herself writing her memoir. She remained fiery in spirit and constantly on the go, attending sporting events, the theater, and lectures. She also established a friendship with her cousin Carrie Collins, who lived nearby and attended many events with Helen. Helen Taft died on May 22, 1943, a week before her eighty‐second birthday. Her obituary noted that “she had prevailed upon her husband to forgo the realization of his ambition and her dreams of his political advancement were quickly realized”



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(Anthony, 2005: 410). She was laid to rest at Arlington National Cemetery, becoming the first first lady ever to be buried there. She lay next to Will, who had died thirteen years before, in 1930. For many years after her death she was a largely forgotten figure, overshadowed by the historical changes of the twentieth century and the rise to fame of future first ladies. The cherry blossoms seemed a fitting epitaph. Historiographical Treatment Even as Helen Taft has begun to receive more notice in recent years, she remains in the shadow of successors like Eleanor Roosevelt, Hillary Clinton, and Michelle Obama. Yet she was herself a departure, as Waggenspack has noted; “prior to the 1920s, most first ladies did not vigorously become involved in their husband’s political lives.” Helen did, which is why “her relent­ less drive and political acumen began the transformation of the acceptable role of a first lady” (Waggenspack, 2004: 59–60). Before her, one would have to go back to Abigail Adams for a first lady with a similar impact on her husband’s thinking and such an independence of position (Withey, 1981), though at least one work has argued that Adams was not the “committed f­eminist” and “fiery revolutionary” portrayed in recent scholarship (Shingleton, 1998). Helen’s neglect was not unique: for many years historians paid little attention to most wives of presidents. While there were a few older general surveys of first ladies such as Laura C. Holloway’s Ladies of the White House (Philadelphia, 1882), Kathleen Prindiville’s First Ladies (New York, 1942), Bess Furman’s White House Profile (Indianapolis, 1951), Amy La Follette Jensen’s The White House (New York, 1962), and Marianne Means’s The Woman in the White House (New York, 1963), these ran against the historiographical grain of their respective periods. As social and

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cultural history emerged in the 1960s along with the feminist movement, so too appeared a greater emphasis on women’s roles and contributions in scholarship, which would encompass the role of first ladies. An early example was Ishbel Ross’s (1964) An American Family: The Tafts, 1678 to 1964, which acknowledged Helen’s role as first lady; yet Ross did not delve deeply into that role. Not until the late 1980s did historians begin taking up first ladies as an exclusive area of study. Betty Boyd Caroli’s (2003) First Ladies (first published in 1987) became an early example of these new works that paid serious attention to the wives of presi­ dents generally. It was followed by Peter Hay’s (1988) All the President’s Ladies, Myra Gutin’s (1989) The President’s Partner, Nancy Kegan Smith and Mary Ryan’s (1989) Modern First Ladies: Their Documentary Legacy, and Carl Sferrazza Anthony’s two‐volume First Ladies: The Saga of the Presidents’ Wives and Their Power, 1789–1990 (1990–1991). Margaret Truman, the daughter of former President Harry Truman, contributed her own assess­ ment in First Ladies (Truman, 1995). These studies attempted to make first ladies a focal point of their research rather than peripheral figures, though “interpretive theories that explain modern first ladies [were] still tenta­ tive and exploratory” (Don Wilson, quoted in Smith and Ryan, 1989: vii). The dearth of historical work on first ladies ran much deeper than a mere failure to examine the impact of presidents’ wives on their husbands’ rise to power and on their policymaking. Historians had long overlooked the contributions that first ladies made to the position itself, and how they used their husbands’ presidencies to carve out their own work and legacy, even if this meant also preserving the post’s “continuity and traditions.” One of the earliest to seek to acquaint educated readers with first ladies along these lines, especially in hopes of s­purring students into further research, was

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Lewis Gould in American First Ladies: Their Lives and Their Legacy (Gould, 2001: x). Nellie Taft, in particular, has been over­ looked because her husband “has languished as a subject for editorial attention” (Gould, 2011: Editor’s Preface). Caught between Theodore Roosevelt’s and Woodrow Wilson’s presidency, the Taft presidency has gotten short shrift. The neglect of Helen Taft seems particularly striking on account of the unprecedented role she played in e­levating her husband’s political career. Primary sources can be an important starting point to understanding Nellie Taft. What little the world has come to know about her came first from her own writing, perhaps thus her earliest historiography. Her first private diary, written between 1879 and 1884, shows much of her formative years as she grew up in Cincinnati. Her entries reveal a repressed young woman looking for a place where she could make an impact on the world. Only recently have biographers and historians made full use of the material that discloses a strong personality, bent on com­ peting with men. In the summer of 1880 she wrote how she beat two “foolish” men at poker, but that money was not as important as “brains” (Anthony, 2005: 40). Such state­ ments may seem like mere conceit on the part of a young débutante, but they also p­rovide a window into the future behavior of a first lady who would command much clout over the president of the United States. Along with her diary, contemporary peri­ odicals like Ladies’ Home Journal, and news­ papers like the New York Times, the Washington Post, the Washington Herald, and the Washington Times are also useful primary texts. Nellie’s memoir titled Recollections of Full Years (Taft, 1914), another primary source, was ghostwritten by her daughter and the journalist Eleanor Egan and is a helpful book that has been largely overlooked (Gould, 2010). In it, Helen comes across as outspoken, strong, and independent. The memoir, the first ever published by a first

lady, gives little attention to her cultural interests during her stay at the White House, but demonstrates her impact on her h­ usband’s presidency and her success in helping to shape policy. Much of it focuses on their time in the Philippines. Nellie saw her marriage as a team effort. In matters of politics, she often used the word “we” when speaking about what the president stood for. Thus, while her husband was governor general of the Philippines, it was Mrs. Taft who announced: “We insisted upon c­omplete racial equality for the Filipinos”— which illustrated both her sense of shared influence and her progressive views on race (Anthony, 2005: 113). According to one acquaintance, the first lady and the p­resident had a relationship that resembled one between “two men who are intimate chums” (Caroli, 2003: 130). This desire for, and success in, helping lead her husband to the presidency reflected the progressive empha­ sis on women’s contributions, especially in reform. Helen Taft, after all, visited every department of the government and showed a keen interest in investigating conditions of work. Her memoirs, like much else in this chapter, strongly suggest that, had she not suffered a stroke early in her husband’s p­residency, she certainly would have accom­ plished more as first lady and historians might have shown more interest in her (Wolfskill, 1989: 21). The William Howard Taft Papers at the Library of Congress include a large collec­ tion of letters that shed light on Nellie and Will’s relationship during his presidency, but do not capture the broad impact that Helen had on the institution of first lady. Still, the index to the Taft papers contains more than four thousand entries in Helen’s name. The papers include her two diaries written before her marriage to Will and one hundred letters written by the future presi­ dent to Helen during their courtship. Other items contain Nellie’s thoughts on her hon­ eymoon trip and in her travels around the world; and there are 635 entries on the



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White House years. Morison, Blum, and Chandler’s (1951–1954) eight‐volume The Letters of Theodore Roosevelt discusses the tension between Helen and President Roosevelt; and the Robert A. Taft Papers, the Helen Manning Taft Papers, and the Charles P. Taft Papers have assisted histori­ ans with Helen’s post‐White House years. Wunderlin, Byrne, Sawicki, and Weber’s (1997) The Papers of Robert A. Taft (volume 1) contains letters from Robert regarding his mother. For many years historians looked at Nellie Taft only insofar as they examined her h­ usband’s life and presidency. Henry F. Pringle’s (1939) The Life and Times of William Howard Taft is an example of this type of approach. His two‐volume study spanned more than a thousand pages, but he devoted only about fifty to Helen. Like most other presidential biographers, Pringle provided only a tangential overview of the first lady, portraying Helen as concerned with only mundane activities like house­ keeping during her stay at the White House. He does not discuss the unprecedented events of Inauguration Day, when Nellie became the first in her position to ride back to the White House with her husband; instead he notes discussions that Nellie had with Archie Butt on routine matters related to household management (Pringle, 1939: 391). When Pringle and others address the matter of what distinguished Helen from past first ladies, they highlight her pastimes, unusual for her era, such as her desire to smoke, drink beer, and play cards with men, but ignore her more significant distinctions, including her political strengths and the activism she brought to Taft’s presidency. These early historians also overlook what was recognized by Helen’s contemporaries as well as by later historians: that Helen played a crucial role in getting Will to the White House. Instead they assert that Taft, despite his lack of desire for the office, became president because the “fates, as always, pushed [him] higher and higher”

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(Allen Ragan, quoted in Anderson, 1981: 13); that he “seemed doomed to public life and to politics,” (Duffy, 1930: 9); or that he had become “a creature of political destiny” (Mason, 1964: 26). The assessments of Pringle and of historians like Allen Ragan, Herbert Duffy, Alpheus Mason, Edward Cotton, and Charles Barker are products of their time in that they overlook Helen’s importance (Cotton, 1932; Barker, 1947). These early works had long influence; as late as 1973, Paolo Coletta, who studied Taft’s presidency, only spent a single page discussing Mrs. Taft’s achievements (see Coletta, 1973). The next decade produced historiograph­ ical changes that began to comport with Helen Taft’s significance as first lady. Judith Icke Anderson’s biography of President Taft devoted an entire chapter to his wife as first lady. She makes the point that Nellie stirred Taft to his “best endeavors,” while function[ing] effectively as housekeeper, mother, and community servant (Anderson, 1981: 153). Anderson also describes Archie Butt’s lauding Helen as a person of great executive ability, if sometimes overbearing. Historians also began emphasizing the fact that Helen took it upon herself to meet President Theodore Roosevelt to discuss her husband’s political future and was so compelling that Roosevelt could not turn her down (Wolfskill, 1989: 26). Mary M. Wolfskill reflected the changing times in an essay that bore the subtitle “The Papers of Four Twentieth‐Century First Ladies” (Wolfskill, 1989). The essay revealed a much more powerful Helen, who influenced her husband in the White House at every turn. Thus, reflecting what has been mentioned above, when Nellie insisted on a particular candidate for a Cabinet appointment in their first month in the White House, Will wrote: “Memorandum for Mrs. Taft—the real President from the nominal President” (Wolfskill, 1989: 28). Such a statement might seem mere spousal flattery, but the message accurately reflected the dynamic between the president and his wife on an

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important administrative matter. Wolfskill’s essay, brief in its discussion of Helen Taft, served as precursor to a new biographical interest in this first lady. A fuller examination of Helen Taft had to wait until the twenty‐first century, some sixty‐five years after Pringle’s biography of the president. Carl Sferrazza Anthony’s (2005) Nellie Taft: The Unconventional First Lady of the Ragtime Era drew from previously unexamined diaries and delved more deeply into the first lady’s life than any previous work had done. He concluded that Helen Taft played a major role in her h­usband’s becoming president, but also that she had political ambitions of her own and promoted the concerns of workers, immi­ grants, and women. According to Anthony, Helen saw herself as being commander in chief no less than Will was—in terms of her political timing, her ability to craft his speeches and influence his selections for key posts, and the extent to which her beliefs eventually helped create policy. She not only helped write his speeches but insisted on vetting the president’s public pronounce­ ments (Anthony, 2005: 97). As Anthony contends, “Roosevelt had had Senator Henry Cabot Lodge as a political confidant and sounding board. Will had Nellie” (Anthony, 2005: 254). Lewis Gould is the second major bio­ grapher of Taft to emerge in the twenty‐first century, and he focuses largely on Helen’s years as first lady. He laments that Anthony “devoted only two pages to her musicales,” which he sees as a significant aspect of her “cultural contribution[s]” and made her a more “consequential first lady” (Gould, 2010: 207, 3). He also discusses her i­nfluence beyond music, by exploring her involvement in larger political and social changes. He notes that in the winter of 1911 she and a group of friends went to the Supreme Court to hear arguments regard­ ing the antitrust case the Taft administration had filed against the Standard Oil Company of New Jersey. By doing so she became the

first presidential wife to visit the judicial branch (Gould, 2010: 120–121). Pringle and others of his time never touched on these subjects. Even Caroli tended to downplay this side of the first lady, arguing that, while Helen “engineered” her own way to the top of political power through her marriage to Will, she “never put much effort into helping other women engineer easier escapes” (Caroli, 1995: 133). Yet the life of her daughter, it seems, suggests otherwise. In 1920, in an article in Women’s Home Companion, the younger Helen, who had assisted her mother in the White House during her stroke, called for representation for women at all levels of politics and for an expansion in their education in foreign r­elations. While her discussion betrays the gendered assumptions of her time, it is nonetheless valuable for what it suggests about women’s capabilities. Nellie’s daugh­ ter argued: “Women’s entrance into politics may not end war but I believe [they] are more unanimous than men in their opposi­ tion to it” (Taft, 1920). The young Helen had graduated Bryn Mawr College in 1915 and quickly became a professor of history and dean of the college; she remained dean there until her retirement in 1957. The article is a remarkable testament to what Nellie Taft passed on to posterity. Helen Herron Taft’s stroke quieted her, but young Helen used her academic talents to become the embodiment of what her mother—despite the setback caused by her stroke—had achieved politically. Helen Taft continues to remind us that, when a president occupies the White House, he does so in tandem with his spouse. She also serves as an example of the new, more powerful character first ladies assumed in the early part of the twentieth century, which only accelerated as the c­ entury unfolded. Before there could be Eleanor Roosevelt, Jackie Kennedy, Hilary Clinton, and Michelle Obama, there was “Nellie” Taft.



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References Anderson, J. I. 1981. William Howard Taft: An Intimate Biography. New York: W. W. Norton and Company. Anthony, C. S. 1990. First Ladies: The Saga of the Presidents’ Wives and Their Power. New York: Quill, William Morrow. Anthony, C. S. 2005. Nellie Taft: The Unconventional First Lady of the Ragtime Era. New York: Harper Perennial. Barker, C. E. 1947. With President Taft in the White House. Chicago: Kroch & Son. Caroli, B. B. 1995. The Roosevelt Women: A Portrait of Five Generations. New York: Basic Books. Caroli, B. B. 2003 [1987]. First Ladies. New York: Oxford University Press. Coletta, P. 1973. The Presidency of William Howard Taft. Lawrence, Kansas: University Press of Kansas. Cotton, E. H. 1932. William Howard Taft, a Character Study. Boston: The Beacon Press. Duffy, H. S. 1930. William Howard Taft. New York: Minton, Balch & Company. “The Family and Home.” 1908. New York Times, June 21. First Lady Biography. n.d. “Helen Taft.” First Ladies Library. http://www.firstladies.org/ biographies/firstladies.aspx?biography=27 (accessed July 16, 2015). Gould, L. 2001. American First Ladies: Their Lives and Their Legacies. New York: Routledge. Gould, L. 2010. Helen Taft: Our Musical First Lady. Lawrence, Kansas: University Press of Kansas. Gould, L., ed. 2011. My Dearest Nellie: Letters of William Howard Taft to Helen Herron Taft, 1909–1912. Lawrence, Kansas: University Press of Kansas. Gutin, M. 1989. The President’s Partner: the First Lady in the Twentieth Century. Santa Barbara, California: Praeger. Hay, P. 1988. All the President’s Ladies. New York: Penguin Books. Lurie, J. 2011. William Howard Taft: the Travails of a Progressive Conservative. New York: Cambridge University Press. Mason, A. T. 1964. William Howard Taft: Chief Justice. New York: Simon and Schuster. Morison, E. E., J. M. Blum, and A. D. Chandler. 1951–1954. The Letters of Theodore Roosevelt, 8 vols. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.

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Morrisey, W. 2009. The Dilemma of Progressivism: How Roosevelt, Taft and Wilson Reshaped the American Regime of Self‐Government. Lanham, MD: Rowman & Littlefield. “Mrs. Taft Driver of Her Own Car.” 1909. Trenton Sunday Advertiser, May 2. “Mrs. Taft Portrayed.” 1908. New York Tribune, June 21. “Mrs. Taft’s Homemaking.” 1911. Good House­ keeping 298, September. “New Regime within the White House.” 1909. New York Times, March 14. Pringle, H. F. 1939. The Life and Times of William Howard Taft: A Biography, 2 vols. New York: Holt, Rhinehart, Winston. Ross, I. 1964. An American Family: The Tafts, 1678–1964. Cleveland, Ohio: World Publishing, 1964. Shingleton, J. 1998. “Abigail Adams: The Feminist Myth.” Concord Review Inc. http:// www.schoolinfosystem.org/pdf/2014/04/ EPrize%20Adams.pdf (accessed November 1, 2015). Smith, N. K., and M. C. Ryan, eds. 1989. Modern First Ladies: Their Documentary Legacy. Washington, DC: National Archives and Records Administration. Taft, H. H. 1914. Recollections of Full Years. New York: Dodd, Mead. Taft, H. 1920. “Women in Politics.” Women’s Home Companion, April 1920. Truman, M. 1995. First Ladies: An Intimate Group Portrait of White House Wives. New York: Random House. Von Natta, D. 2004. First Off the Tee: Presidenial Hackers, Duffers, and Cheaters from Taft to Bush. New York: PublicAffairs. Waggenspack, B. M. 2004. “Helen Herron Taft: Opportunity and Ambition.” In Inventing a Voice: The Rhetoric of American First Ladies of the Twentieth Century, edited by M. M. Wertheimered, 59–78. Lanham, MD: Rowman and Littlefield. Withey, L. 1981. Dearest Friend: A Life of Abigail Adams. New York: Simon and Schuster. Wolford, J. C. 1982. Helen Heron Taft. Unpublished MA Thesis. Wolfskill, M. M. 1989. “Meeting a New Century: The Papers of Four Twentieth‐Century First Ladies.” In Modern First Ladies: Their Documentary Legacy, edited by N. K. Smith and M. C. Ryan, 19–45. Washington, DC: National Archives and Records Administration.

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Wunderlin, C. E., F. L. Byrne, B. J. Sawicki, and A. M. Weber, eds. 1997. The Papers of Robert A. Taft, vol. 1: 1889–1939. Kent, OH: Kent State University Press.

Further Reading Anthony, C. S. 2000. American First Ladies: Two Hundred Years of Private Life in the White House. New York: Simon and Schuster. Cook, B. W. 1992. Eleanor Roosevelt. New York: Penguin Books. Cordery, S. A. 2001. Helen Herron Taft. In American First Ladies: Their Lives and Their Legacies, edited by L. Gould, 213–226. New York: Routledge.

Kessler, C. F. 1995. Charlotte Perkins Gillman: Her Progress toward Utopia with Selected Writings. New York: Syracuse University Press. “Mrs. Taft Hears Strikers’ Story.” 1912. Belleville News‐Democrat 5, March 6. O’Toole, P. 2006. When Trumpets Call: Theodore Roosevelt after the White House. New York: Simon & Schuster. Sibley, K. A. S. 2009. First Lady Florence Harding: Behind the Tragedy and Controversy. Kansas: University Press of Kansas. Taft, H. 1920. “Does America Need College Women?” Collier’s, January 31. “The First Lady of the Land.” 1909. Wilkes‐ Barre Times Leader, March 4.

Chapter Twenty

Ellen Axson Wilson Lisa M. Burns

Ellen Louise Axson was born on May 15, 1860 and raised in the small town of Rome, Georgia. Her father was a Presbyterian m­ inister and her mother a booklover who passed on her passion for reading to her daughter. A gifted artist, as a teenager Ellen dreamed of moving to New York City to study art and pursue a career. But her mother’s death in 1881, after the birth of Ellen’s fourth sibling, left her to care for her father, who s­uffered from depression throughout his life, and for her two young brothers. Two years later, in April of 1883, a young lawyer by the name of Woodrow Wilson was visiting Rome on b­usiness. Also the son of a Presbyterian minister, he spotted Ellen in church and met her later that day when he called on Reverend Axson, who was an old friend of his father’s. After a summer courtship, the two were engaged that September (Saunders, 1985: 3–8). The Wilsons’ thirty‐one‐year partnership would result in three daughters, a distin­ guished academic and political career for Woodrow, and a budding art career for Ellen. When Ellen passed away from kidney disease in her White House bedroom on August 6, 1914 at the age of fifty‐four, the president broke down, saying: “Oh my God, what am I to do?” (Saunders, 1985: 276).

For many years, Ellen Wilson was a f­orgotten first lady. In spite of the influential role she played in her husband’s career and her own accomplishments during her short time in the White House, Ellen was o­vershadowed by Edith Bolling Galt Wilson, her controversial successor, and unfairly d­ismissed by scholars as unworthy of study precisely because of her abbreviated tenure. But ignoring Ellen’s influence on her h­usband’s career and her contributions to the position of first lady is a serious oversight, which is only just starting to be rectified by researchers who have rediscovered this interesting historical figure. As these scholars note, Ellen was both a helpmate and a trusted advisor to Woodrow Wilson—one who recognized his potential for greatness early on and helped propel him to the White House. She also actively supported progres­ sive era reforms and used her position to lobby for change, expanding the role of first lady into one of social activist and policy advocate. Finally, she was a talented artist who displayed and sold her paintings while serving as first lady—which makes her one of the few presidential wives to pursue o­utside work during her husband’s tenure. While the literature on Ellen Wilson is

A Companion to First Ladies, First Edition. Edited by Katherine A. S. Sibley. © 2016 John Wiley & Sons, Inc. Published 2016 by John Wiley & Sons, Inc.

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limited, what has been written makes good use of the wealth of primary source material available, particularly the letters exchanged between the Wilsons during their sometimes lengthy separations. This chapter offers an overview of Ellen’s life and of her relation­ ship with her husband while exploring scholars’ assessments of her roles as advisor, advocate, and artist. Early Life and Marriage In the serious and scholarly Ellen Axson, Woodrow Wilson met the ideal helpmate for a budding professor and public servant. For the young woman known as “Ellie, the Man Hater,” who had rejected the proposals of several young men, Woodrow possessed the qualities that she was seeking in a man, which included being “intelligent and inter­ esting.” Upon her engagement, Ellen con­ fided in her brother Stockton that her fiancé was “the greatest man in the world and the best” (Saunders, 1985: 4, 8). Both Ellen’s and Woodrow’s biographers acknowledge that the couple’s shared interests in education and political issues, along with Ellen’s belief in her husband’s talents, were critical in shaping his career. As noted above, scholars have largely ignored Ellen Wilson. Most biographers of Woodrow Wilson make only brief references to her, focusing on the impact of her death on her husband. Of course, this is often the case with presidential biographies, which tend to diminish the role played by spouses. There are a few notable exceptions. The early biographies and collections of Wilson’s papers by Ray Stannard Baker (1927, 1931a, 1931b) and by Arthur S. Link, David. W. Hirst, John E. Little, and Fredrick Aandahl (1966—) make numerous references to the role that Ellen played in her husband’s early career. Some recent biographies examining Wilson’s early life (e.g., Clements, 1999; Cooper, 2009) also credit Ellen with playing a key advisory role in her husband’s career.

The emergence of first ladies studies in the late 1980s prompted researchers to examine the lives of all of presidential wives, including Ellen. Thanks to authors like Carl Sferrazza Anthony (1990), Lewis L. Gould (1990), and Betty Boyd Caroli (1995), Ellen’s roles as advisor, advocate, and artist were recognized. Yet in some of the first lady literature Ellen’s impact on the institution continues to be marginalized. Several first lady scholars, including Gould (1990), Myra Gutin (1989), Maurine H. Beasley (2005), and MaryAnne Borrelli (2011), regard the “modern” first lady institution as having begun in 1920, or with the tenures of either Lou Hoover or Eleanor Roosevelt. The works of these scholars make very lim­ ited, if any, references to earlier first ladies such as Ellen. The same can be said of edited collections like The Presidential Companion: Readings on the First Ladies (Watson and Eksterowicz, 2002) and Leading Ladies of the White House: Communication Strategies of Notable 20th Century First Ladies (Wertheimer, 2004). Meanwhile, in two books focusing on the advisory role played by presidential wives, Ellen is once again forgotten. Kati Marton’s (2001) Hidden Power: Presidential Marriages That Shaped Our Recent History begins her examination of presidential partnerships with Woodrow and Edith Wilson. The chapter only makes three brief references to Ellen, the first Mrs. Wilson. Gil Troy’s (2000) Mr. and Mrs. President: From the Trumans to the Clintons may start with the Trumans, but he makes several references to Edith Wilson throughout the book, particularly in relation to her actions following her husband’s stroke. Ellen is never mentioned. For anyone looking to learn about Ellen Wilson, the best sources are the three book‐ length biographies that have been written about her. The first did not appear until more than seventy years after her death: Frances Wright Saunders’s (1985) Ellen Axson Wilson: First Lady between Two Worlds. That book, still the most comprehensive of



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the three biographies detailed here, is a t­ raditional, chronological biography that draws heavily on the personal papers of the Wilsons and their contemporaries, along with memoirs written by family and friends. Saunders argues that Ellen successfully straddled two worlds: she performed the private roles of supportive wife and helpmate, assisting the advancement of her husband’s career in that capacity, and the public roles of working artist and social reform advocate, which “expanded the expected Victorian woman’s role beyond the bounds of domes­ ticity” (Saunders, 1985: xiii). The next full‐ length biography of Ellen’s life did not appear until 2011. Sina Dubovoy’s (2011) Ellen A. Wilson: The Woman Who Made a President is part of a Presidential Wives biography series. Also working primarily with archival sources, Dubovoy claims that Ellen’s role in “shaping or making Wilson president has never been examined. Perhaps it has just been overlooked, as Ellen herself has been” (Dubovoy, 2011: xiii). The third biography is Ellen and Edith: Woodrow Wilson’s First Ladies by Kristie Miller, p­ublished in 2010 as part of the Modern First Ladies book series (Miller, 2010). Since only 89 pages are devoted to Ellen by comparison to 166 pages written about Edith, one could argue that this is only a partial account of Ellen’s life. While—especially in tracking Ellen’s early years—Miller relies heavily on Saunders as well as using the same archival collections and memoirs as Saunders and Dubovoy, the comparison she makes between Woodrow’s wives gives an interesting account of the roles both women played in his private and public life. Miller credits Ellen with encouraging her h­usband’s political ambition. But she notes that, because of Ellen’s death just seventeen months into Woodrow’s presidency, “her accomplishments as first lady have been largely forgotten” (Miller, 2010: xii). The biographies by Saunders, Dubovoy, and Miller offer the best overview of the Wilsons’ pre‐White House years and are representative

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of the new scholarship that is finally giving Ellen a closer look. As Miller observes, Ellen was “almost ideally suited to be Woodrow Wilson’s wife. She was intelligent and well read, devoted to family, passionate, and ambitious for a life of service to a higher goal” (Miller, 2010: 5). Ellen’s mother encouraged her intellectual pursuits from a young age. Ellen was an eager student, excelling in literature, com­ position, math, and foreign languages as well as demonstrating exceptional artistic talent (Saunders, 1985: 14). Following her graduation in 1876, Ellen planned to enter the Normal Department of Nashville University, which required applicants to pass proficiency examinations. She passed the exams with very high marks, but her father could not afford to send her to college; nor did he want her to leave. So instead she enrolled in postgraduate classes at a local school, taking advanced courses in French and German, skills that would later be put to use as she translated German manuscripts for her husband (Miller, 2010: 6). Ellen also continued her drawing lessons with instructor Helen Fairchild, who had studied at the prestigious National Academy of Design in New York City. At the age of eighteen, Ellen won her first award as an artist, a bronze medal for excellence in free­ hand drawing from the Paris International Exposition. After garnering international recognition for her work, she began charg­ ing a small fee for portraits she drew from photographs. Before long, she was earning enough money to support herself, which she recognized as a key to independence for women. In letters to her close friends, she talked of moving to New York City to p­ursue a career as an artist (Saunders, 1985: 16–17). In addition to her formal education, Ellen was a voracious reader who preferred classi­ cal and scholarly works. In her early years, she devoured the works of Homer, William Shakespeare, Charles Dickens, and John Ruskin, the famous art critic of the Victorian

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era. Some of the contemporary authors she favored were George Eliot, Henry James, Thomas Hardy, and Benjamin Disraeli. She was particularly fond of romantic and Victorian poets such as William Wordsworth, Robert Browning, and Elizabeth Barrett Browning (Saunders, 1985: 23). She shared this love of reading with her husband. However, her father was not impressed with Ellen’s growing intellectual and financial independence; he described his daughter as “obstreperous” and “entirely too much inclined to have her own opinions” (Saunders, 1985: 18). Her plans to pursue an art career were put on hold when her mother died in 1881, shortly after giving birth to Ellen’s only sister. While the baby went to an aunt, Ellen was left to care for her father and brothers at the age of twenty‐one. On April 8, 1883, Ellen attended her father’s weekly church service as usual. She did not realize that she had caught the eye of a young Atlanta lawyer seated a few rows behind her. Twenty‐seven year old Woodrow Wilson was in Rome and staying with rela­ tives who attended Reverend Axson’s church. When he called on Reverend Axson that afternoon, ostensibly to pay his respects to his father’s colleague, Woodrow was f­ ormally introduced to Ellen. When he returned to Rome the following month, he began to court her. The two went on their first date on May 28, 1883 and were engaged four months later (Saunders, 1985: 6–8). They seemed to fulfill each other’s needs for intellectual companionship. Woodrow would soon abandon law in favor of graduate studies in politics and history at Johns Hopkins University, with plans to become a college professor. He and Ellen remained apart for most of their two‐year engagement. After the first year, Ellen’s father, who had suffered from severe depres­ sion for years, died in a mental asylum under questionable circumstances, possibly by committing s­uicide. Ellen considered end­ ing the engagement; Woodrow refused.

But, when he offered to quit school and take a teaching job in order to support Ellen and her brothers, it was Ellen who refused, urging Woodrow to finish his graduate degree (Miller, 2010: 13). Following her father’s death Ellen inherited a substantial estate. Instead of joining her fiancé in Baltimore, she used part of the money to move to New York City to study at the lib­ eral Art Students League. She explained to Woodrow that she wanted the ability to be self‐sufficient, if needed—which prompted him to joke that she “was preparing to be my widow” (2010: 13). Although she only spent one year in New York, that experience evidenced an independent streak, “a sign of Ellen being a ‘new woman’ who was inter­ ested in expanding her opportunities beyond the domestic sphere and preserving a sense of independence and self‐reliance” (Burns, 2004: 82). The year spent in New York offered Ellen a chance to pursue her passion for art before putting her interests aside to focus on being a wife and mother. The League was “regarded as radical, based as it was upon a student‐run, nonauthoritarian soci­ ety with equal status accorded to women and men” (Saunders, 1985: 49). Her teachers were some of the top American impressionists of the period, and her work was widely praised by her instructors and peers. She won a spot in the League’s exclusive life drawing class, which employed live models, some nude and some draped, and she took additional classes at the Metropolitan Museum of Art (Dubovoy, 2011: 52). Ellen took advantage of her time in New York, touring museums and attending lectures and the theater d­uring her free time. She often did so w­ithout an escort, which in those days was considered bold for an unmarried woman. Ellen’s interest in social reform developed during this period. She volunteered at the Spring Street Mission School, located over a barroom in one of the city’s “slum areas,” where she taught African American children



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basic reading, writing, and math, along with Bible studies. Woodrow worried about her safety, but she argued that it was “her duty” to teach at the school. In one letter she told him: “To think first of any small risk or unpleasantness connected with teaching there does not seem right. … The mere p­ossibility should not keep me from trying to do something” (Link et al., 1966: 233– 234). In spite of Woodrow’s concerns, she worked at the mission throughout her stay in New York. There is some disagreement among bio­ graphers regarding the impact that the Art Students League and living in New York City had on Ellen. Saunders presents that year as a time when Ellen could explore her independence before settling down, and this included some mild flirtations with other men (Saunders, 1985: 52). She also took advantage of the cultural offerings of the city, which she had long read about but did not have access to in her small home­ town. Similarly, Miller argues that New York helped Ellen “shed her provincialism.” She attempted to lessen her southern accent, experimented with attending differ­ ent churches, was exposed to very liberal viewpoints (even if she did not embrace them herself), and continued to volunteer at the mission school, evidencing an early interest in social advocacy (Miller, 2010: 14–15). Dubovoy (2011: 58) offers a more critical take on Ellen’s New York experi­ ence. She characterizes her mission work as “charitable work” and asserts that Ellen “was never a conscious reformer.” Dubovoy (2011: 58) also claims that Ellen became disillusioned with the Art Students League because of the “atmosphere of radical free­ thinking and the championing of radical lifestyles, that profoundly disturbed her.” The widespread feminism at the League was part of this freethinking, according to Dubovoy. She claims that, by the end of that year, Ellen was ready to choose m­arriage to Woodrow over her own career (Dubovoy, 2011: 59). Yet, while Ellen

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could not be characterized as a b­ohemian, it is evident that she felt quite comfortable in such surroundings—first in New York and later during her summers at an artists’ c­olony in Old Lyme, Connecticut. She also enjoyed her independence and did not mind doing things on her own, whether it was attending lectures on controversial t­ opics unaccompanied or spending hours sketching in New York’s art galleries. By volunteering at an African American m­ission school against her fiancé’s objections, she privileged service to others over concerns regarding her safety or the propriety of her actions—an attitude she would mirror in her commitment to slum clearance during her time as first lady. Ellen married Woodrow in June of 1885. Woodrow was concerned that he was being selfish in asking Ellen to aban­ don her art career, but Ellen assured him in a letter that giving up her art would be “no sacrifice in exchange for a love as his” and that she did not want to offer her h­ usband “a divided allegiance” (Miller, 2010: 15). Dubovoy discusses a letter in which Ellen admitted that she had above‐ average talent by comparison to her fellow students but recognized the uncertainties of life as a professional artist (Dubovoy, 2011: 50). Likewise, Miller argues that Ellen recognized how difficult it was for women to succeed as professional artists, so she decided to invest her energy into his career (Miller, 2010: 15). For two d­ecades, Ellen focused on her roles as a professor’s wife and as mother to their daughters Margaret, Jessie, and Eleanor (“Nell”). As her husband’s career progressed from p­rofessorship to presidency, Ellen acted as Woodrow’s trusted advisor, honing their political partnership. Thanks to her h­ usband’s increasingly important roles, she was able to begin advocating for social issues, which she would continue to do during her time in Washington. All of this would prepare Ellen for the position of first lady.

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Helpmate and Advisor: A Political Partnership Once the two were married, Ellen did c­hannel her prodigious talents and energy into her husband’s career, saying in one l­etter: “I will be a better wife to you than I could ever have been to a smaller man” (McAdoo, 1962: 130). Although she often worried about his health, she encouraged his ambitions and believed that he was des­ tined for greatness. Much later, recovering from his stroke and already married to Edith for some years, Woodrow told his daughter Nell: “I owe everything to your mother— you know that, don’t you?” (Cooper, 2009: 261). Ellen indeed spent their first twenty years together as a homemaker, raising her daughters and taking care of the Wilsons’ extended family. But her primary focus was always on advancing her husband’s career, and he considered her to be his most trusted advisor. This resulted in a political partner­ ship that would lead to the White House. The Wilsons’ political partnership is d­iscussed at length by Ellen’s biographers and in the biographies of Woodrow that focus on his early years and rise to political prominence. Dubovoy (2011: xiii) argues that, “without Ellen, Woodrow Wilson might well have never become president of the United States,” which echoes not only what the president told his daughter, but also the statement of Wilson’s official bio­ grapher, Ray Stannard Baker: “Wilson once said that except for his father and his wife, he would never have reached the White House” (Baker, 1927: 469). Historian John Milton Cooper, Jr. claims: “He had gone further and accomplished more in the worlds of scholarship, education, politics, and government than he could have done without her. And he knew it” (Cooper, 2009: 261). Ellen’s role as trusted confi­ dante and advisor is most evident in the l­ etters exchanged between the Wilsons. These letters can be found in The Papers of Woodrow Wilson, a 48‐volume set edited by

historian Arthur S. Link and his colleagues (Link et al., 1966), and in Ray Stannard Baker’s eight‐volume biography Woodrow Wilson: Life and Letters, published between 1927 (see Baker, 1927) and 1939. The Wilsons’ daughter Eleanor Wilson McAdoo also published a collection of her parents’ letters under the title The Priceless Gift: The Love Letters of Woodrow Wilson and Ellen Axson Wilson (McAdoo, 1962). She argued that her mother’s letters were of equal importance with those of her father’s, because they reflect “how profoundly she influenced Woodrow Wilson and his career” (McAdoo, 1962: ix). The letters show that the Wilsons were just as comfortable talking about tariff reform and Mexican revolution­ aries as they were discussing family matters, with Woodrow seeking Ellen’s advice on a wide range of political topics. The letters also reflect the passionate love that the couple shared, and have become invaluable resources for researchers. Biographers have noted that Ellen’s inter­ ests in academic topics made her an ideal professor’s wife. Ellen prepared herself to help Woodrow with his research by studying history and political philosophy. Given her facility for foreign languages, something her husband lacked, she would read political treatises in their original German and trans­ late the sections Woodrow needed for his books. She also reviewed other works and compiled summaries for her husband in order to save him the time of reading the entire book or scholarly article (Miller, 2010: 17–18). Her scholar husband could not have asked for a more devoted research assistant. Thanks to her help, he was able to publish several books, and these led to speaking tours that not only supplemented the family’s income but also raised him to the national prominence he needed to launch his political career in later years. Scholars point out that Ellen also frequently helped Woodrow with his speeches; her handwritten revisions appear on several speech copies included in the Woodrow



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Wilson Papers at the Library of Congress. Miller (2010: 25) argues that references to art and quotations from poets like Wordsworth, Ellen’s favorite, evidence her influence on his speeches. In his memoir Brother Woodrow, Ellen’s brother Stockton recalled: “He read her everything he wrote. She listened attentively (had great power of concentration), criticized, suggested changes … he told me about the ‘hit’ of his speeches being germinated by her sugges­ tions” (Axson, 1993: 105). Ellen encouraged her husband’s career advancement. Knowing that he was unhappy at Bryn Mawr, his first teaching position, she advised him to take advantage of a loophole that allowed him to break his contract and accept a higher paying position at Wesleyan University (Saunders, 1985: 75). Later, at Princeton, he began receiving offers from other schools, including the presidency of the University of Illinois and that of the University of Virginia. Cooper points out that “Ellen shrewdly advised her husband to exploit the offer” and to consult with other university presidents “as a bit of self‐ advertising” in order to obtain a salary increase from the Princeton trustees and prove his worth to the institution (Cooper, 2009: 67). Woodrow continued to consult Ellen on every major career decision, from accepting the presidency of Princeton to deciding to run for the governorship of New Jersey in 1910 and to seek the Democratic Party’s nomination for presidency in 1912. Ellen recognized the important role that social gatherings could play in her husband’s various administrations. As a young wife she took home economics courses, traveling to Philadelphia twice a week to learn the cook­ ing and hostessing skills she knew she would need as her husband advanced in his career (Miller, 2010: 17). She preferred holding small dinner parties where guests could debate the issues of the day, often playing hostess to major public figures who were lecturing at Princeton. The most notable of such gatherings was one where Ellen

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arranged for her husband to return home early from a trip in order to meet with d­emocratic leader William Jennings Bryan. Ellen recognized that having Bryan’s s­upport was key to her husband’s political ambitions (Cooper, 2009: 141–142). Historians note that it was Ellen who kept her husband abreast of current events, using her skills as an avid reader to devour newspapers and magazines and clipping any article that might be of interest to him. When he was eyeing the democratic p­residential nomination in 1912, Ellen served as an informal, yet very astute campaign strategist. She scanned the papers for any mention of her husband or the other candi­ dates. In the first official biography of Woodrow, Baker stated: “Mrs. Wilson f­ ollowed indefatigably, as she had been doing for years, everything in the press that she thought would interest or assist her h­ usband … and clipped out everything related to the campaign.” But her work did not end with collecting news coverage. As Baker explained: “She would go over the assortment with Mr. Wilson every day, often giving him suggestions as to people to see, Mr. Wilson making memoranda in the little book he carried always in his vest pocket” (Baker, 1931a: 114). Those clippings, n­umbering in the hundreds, can be found today in the Woodrow Wilson Papers at the Library of Congress. The Wilsons’ correspondence from this period also illustrates the role Ellen played in the campaign. During a speaking tour of western states in May 1911, Ellen urged Woodrow not to discourage supporters who were calling for him to run in 1912. After reading a news report that Denver was “booming” for Wilson to be president, she wrote to Woodrow with the following advice: By‐the‐way—, please don’t say again that you “are not thinking about the presi­ dency.” All who know you well know that that is fundamentally true, but superficially it can’t be true; and it gives the cynics an

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opening which they can seize with glee. The “Sun” of course had an outrageous l­ittle editorial about it. (Baker, 1931b: 220–221)

A few days later, she shared some important information regarding his chances at the nomination, including some reassuring comments from the press: News from Washington that Bryan has now conceded your nomination. Whether true or not I do not know. I enclose today’s editorial from the “True American.” … Another paper defended you well too. It said that your mind was occupied not with an office but with p­rinciples and that you were equally ready to work for them as a leader or in the ranks. (McAdoo, 1962: 268)

During the campaign, Ellen used the infor­ mation she gathered from news reports to help her husband formulate his campaign speeches and comments to the press (Boller, 1998: 222). She also spent hours helping Woodrow with his voluminous correspond­ ence (Miller, 2010: 65). Most notably, Ellen accompanied her husband on a campaign trip through her home state of Georgia in the spring of 1912, helping him to garner important southern votes (Saunders, 1985: 223). At a time when candidates’ wives were not publicly involved in campaigns, Ellen became the first future first lady to c­ampaign with her husband during the primaries (Miller, 2010: 59). During her husband’s inaugural speech, Ellen left her seat and stood directly beneath the podium, watch­ ing his speech intently (Miller, 2010: 71). Dubovoy (2011: 225) argues that “she was not unconscious of her role in shaping and making him president.” Biographers agree that Ellen also p­ossessed an “extraordinary understanding of political issues and of human nature” (Saunders, 1985: 248) and they often point to c­omments from Woodrow’s advisors. Joseph Tumulty, Woodrow’s secretary, discussed almost every

issue with Ellen, telling the president: “She’s a better politician that you are” (Miller, 2010: 52). According to William G. McAdoo, one of Woodrow’s advisors and later his son‐ in‐law, Ellen was, of all the president’s a­dvisors, “the soundest and most influential of them all” (McAdoo, 1931: 285). Joseph Daniels, a newspaper editor who handled the campaign’s publicity, claimed that Ellen was the “more ambitious” of the two Wilsons and recalled that, when he would ask Woodrow about a campaign strategy, the candidate would turn to his wife for her input (Miller, 2010: 61). Colonel House, another Wilson advisor, writes in his memoirs of his discussions with Ellen regarding political matters, from policy issues to Cabinet appointments (Burns, 2004: 88). For exam­ ple, Ellen helped to convince her husband to name William Jennings Bryan as his secretary of state, despite protests from several other advisors (Dubovoy, 2011: 222). She also supported keeping Joseph Tumulty on as Woodrow’s personal secretary, in spite of controversy over the fact that he was a Roman Catholic (Burns, 2004: 89). To her, Tumulty was not only the most qualified person for the job, but someone who had become part of the Wilson family (Saunders, 1985: 256). Woodrow frequently sought his wife’s counsel when dealing with political situa­ tions. An example of this was her assistance in assessing the Mexican situation. Shortly before Woodrow took office, a revolution in Mexico left General Victoriano Huerta’s unstable military regime in power. Huerta’s government was not recognized by the United States, and this posed a diplomatic problem for the new president (Saunders, 1985: 253–254). According to Baker, Ellen served as her husband’s primary source of background information on the issue by reading books on Mexican history and newspaper articles about the situation (Baker, 1931b: 244). During the summer of 1913, Woodrow would share the latest details in his letters to Ellen, including confidential information regarding the activities



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of his attaché John Lind, who was sent to Mexico to negotiate with Huerta. In a letter from August 16, 1913, Ellen says: I see Huerta may resign in order to run for constitutional president. Will you please tell me, dear, if your Mexican policy does or does not admit of accepting him on those terms? … (I am) anxious to know what message Lind bears as regards that point. (Quoted in Burns, 2004: 88)

The president responded on August 19, telling her that “Lind was instructed to ask Huerta for assurances that he would not be a candidate at the elections” (Burns, 2004: 90). Ellen was extremely relieved to learn from her husband’s correspondence that Huerta seemed to be backing down thanks to Lind’s diplomatic efforts and to mounting pressure from within Mexico to hold a legitimate election (McAdoo, 1962: 307). That same summer, Ellen closely followed the progress of Woodrow’s tariff and banking reform efforts, tracking the news reports and helping to formulate the speeches that her husband would deliver before special joint sessions of the Congress, which she viewed from the visitor’s gallery (Saunders, 1985: 248). Biographers agree that Woodrow relied heavily on Ellen’s advice, support, and love. However, they note that, much as Woodrow professed his love for her, he had a pro­ tracted romantic involvement with another woman, Mrs. Mary Humbolt Peck. He met Mary in Bermuda in 1907, while vacation­ ing alone. From 1908 through 1915, he wrote to her frequently and visited her regu­ larly. But their contact lessened dramatically after Woodrow remarried. Writers have devoted considerable space to Woodrow’s relationship with Mary and have speculated as to the extent of their relationship, p­articularly whether they were ever physically intimate. While Ellen encouraged her husband to have female friends, their correspondence indicates that she suspected something

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untoward between her husband and Mrs. Peck as early as the summer of 1908. Ellen’s letters from this time period were not saved, but several letters from Woodrow indicate that she had accused him of an “emotional love” for Mrs. Peck. He denied the charge but did not blame her for making the a­ccusation (Cooper, 2009: 100). When it became clear that Mary was going to be part of their lives, Ellen insisted on treating her as a family friend, helping to quell rumors of an affair between Woodrow and Mary. In his letters to Mary, Woodrow expresses the same passion that appears in his letters to Ellen. While sometimes the letters to Ellen were serious in tone while those to Mary were more light‐hearted, Woodrow v­ehemently expressed his love for Ellen even as he carried on an intimate correspondence with his “dearest friend” Mary (Miller, 2010: 82). According to Cary Grayson, the Wilsons’ doctor, Ellen confided in him, s­aying that the “Peck affair” was the only unhappiness her husband had caused her in their married life and admitting that she did not want to “share his confidence of his inner mind with anyone” (Cooper, 2009: 101). The exact nature of Woodrow and Mary’s relationship will likely never be known. But authors agree that his fascination with another woman did not diminish the role Ellen played as his wife, chief counselor, and confidante. When the Wilsons entered the White House in March of 1913, a flurry of activity followed. Although there was no formal ball, Ellen hosted thousands of guests at several large receptions in the days following the inauguration. By June, the new first lady had presided over 41 official events and had assumed a hectic weekly schedule of lunch­ eons, meetings, and teas (Miller, 2010: 72). In addition, she redecorated their private quarters and oversaw a renovation of the third floor of the White House to create additional bedrooms and a small art studio (Dubovoy, 2011: 226). She also started designing plans for a rose garden to be

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added to the grounds that was to replace Edith Roosevelt’s colonial garden; the f­ ormal Rose Garden, finished in 1913, would be redesigned in 1961 in a layout it still retains (White House Historical Association, 2015). Meanwhile she continued to advise her husband on Cabinet appoint­ ments and kept track of news coverage for him. But most scholars agree that her most significant contribution to the first lady institution would be her decision, just three weeks into her tenure, to take a leading role in a social reform movement aimed at improving housing conditions for the poorest residents of the nation’s capital. Social Advocate: Expanding the First Lady’s Role A great deal of Ellen’s time and energy while in the White House was spent on acting as an advocate for various causes. Biographers, including Miller and Saunders, note that Ellen’s interest in social reform dated back to her volunteer work at the mission school in New York City. While at Princeton, she attended the New Jersey Conference of Charities and Correction, where she heard progressive reformers discuss various efforts to improve education, housing, and work­ ing conditions (Miller, 2010: 46). During Woodrow’s time as governor of New Jersey, Ellen served as the honorary director of the New Jersey State Charities Aid Association. In the summer of 1911, Ellen accompanied her husband on a tour of several state w­elfare institutions such as veterans’ homes, mental institutions, prisons, reform schools, and hospitals (Saunders, 1985: 213). It was unprecedented for a sitting governor, let alone his wife, to visit such places. She told a Trenton newspaper that she would be able to better assist her husband if she knew something about such issues, especially those concerning women and children. She also noted that, since her “family cares” had diminished, she was eager to care for the

“bigger family awaiting me,” which was a common way for women to frame their social activism during this period (Miller, 2010: 54). Ellen followed up with inspec­ tion trips of her own, a practice she would continue during her White House tenure. Her interest in social reform efforts would strongly influence her performance in the position of first lady. Historians agree that Ellen’s most n­otable achievement as first lady was her advocacy of legislation to improve living conditions for poor African Americans in Washington, DC. The most detailed descriptions of her efforts appear in the biographies by Saunders, Miller, and Dubovoy and in my essay “Ellen Axson Wilson: A Rhetorical Reassessment of a Forgotten First Lady” (Burns, 2004). Most of the recent books about first ladies mention her support of the alley bill; Carl Anthony Sferrazza’s (1990) First Ladies: The Saga of the President’s Wives and Their Power and Betty Boyd Caroli’s (1995) First Ladies offer the most thorough treatments of the subject. Two weeks after moving into the White House, Ellen attended a lecture on housing conditions sponsored by the National Civic Federation’s (NCF) Women’s Department, where she showed a “keen interest” and asked a number of questions (Miller, 2010: 74). On March 22 she met with Charlotte Hopkins, chair of the NCF’s Women’s Department. Hopkins described the sub­ standard housing of many of the capital’s poorest residents, primarily African Americans, who were living in crowded alleys in run‐down shacks with no water or sanitation. On March 25, accompanied by Hopkins and Grace Bicknell, chair of the NCF’s Housing Committee, Ellen visited some of the alleys, including one “where 300 to 400 people, mostly African American and Italian, lived under ‘most shocking conditions’” (Miller, 2010: 75). After wit­ nessing the problem, the first lady was pre­ sented with the NCF’s solution—109 two‐family dwellings constructed as model



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“sanitary” housing that were rented at affordable rates and supervised by a social worker. Ellen spoke with several of the resi­ dents without revealing her identity. After the tours, she became a stockholder in the newly organized Sanitary Housing Company, which she contributed to until her death. She also became the honorary chair of the NCF’s Women’s Department (Saunders, 1985: 245). Ellen didn’t enter any of the alley homes that first day because of a smallpox o­utbreak, but she would return to those alleys many times, taking congressmen and other influ­ ential political leaders and their wives on tours in order to garner support for the NCF’s plans to clear the alleys and provide alternative sanitary housing for the r­esidents. She made a White House car available for alley visits and lent her name to the cause (Miller, 2010: 79). One of those tours involved the wife of the assistant secretary of the navy, future first lady Eleanor Roosevelt, which is noted by several scholars. Ellen became an active member of the Committee of Fifty, a group of leading men and women from charitable and civic organizations formed to draft legislation addressing the alley problem. She also held several lobby­ ing and fundraising events at the White House, urging congressmen to support the bill (Saunders, 1985: 246). The alley bill was introduced in Congress in February 1914. It was dubbed “Mrs. Wilson’s bill,” the first to be named after a first lady, and was passed by both the House and the Senate while Ellen lay dying in August of that year. Obituaries reported how she told her husband she would “go away more cheerfully” if the bill was passed and how she learned of the vote just hours before her death (Burns, 2004: 91). Unfortunately, the bill was never successfully enacted due to lack of funding and to the outbreak of World War I. But researchers note that Ellen’s advocacy was the first time a first lady was so publicly involved in policymaking and in lobbying for legislation.

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In her correspondence, Ellen discussed her interest in the alley bill. She said in one letter to her cousin: “The women are so grateful that it is embarrassing. Here they have worked for years and years and could get nothing. I have done so little—only been interested” (quoted in Baker, 1931b: 467). But she was clearly aware of the s­ignificance of her work. In a letter to her husband in July of 1913, she said that one woman commented that she “had done more good in Washington in four months than any other President’s wife had ever done in four years—had completely changed the conditions of life for 12,000 people, or was it 12,000 alleys” (Saunders, 1985: 247). Newspapers also tracked Ellen’s social a­dvocacy. A May 16, 1913 New York Times article titled “Mrs. Wilson Slumming” noted that Wilson was touring the alleys, “seeking first‐hand information for the movement to improve the living conditions of the poor in Washington.” The article concluded that she was “deeply impressed with the necessity of legislation to do away with the alleys.” While the article recog­ nized the political aspects of her alley tours, the tone of the title’s play on the word “slumming” reflects a sarcasm that can be read as a subtle critique of Wilson’s involve­ ment in slum clearance (quoted in Burns, 2008: 59). Ellen also faced criticism from members of Washington society who were not used to such a politically active first lady. Her project was condescendingly described as “slumming parties” by her own social secretary, Belle Hagner. Another Washington observer recalled the “sardonic laughter” at the joke that the first lady had joined the “Society for the Prevention of Useless Giving” (Anthony, 1990: 346). But, ultimately, Ellen was praised by the press in her obituaries for her tireless commitment to housing reform (Burns, 2004: 92), and her advocacy is recalled in every biography written about her. Ellen’s biographers note that her social advocacy extended to other issues as well,

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including truancy laws, child labor, care for the mentally ill, drug addicts and neglected children, adult education, and community recreation centers. She showed a particular interest in improving working conditions in government offices. In October 1913, d­uring an unofficial tour of the post office department, she was appalled by the lack of restroom facilities for female workers and by other “unsanitary conditions,” to which she attributed the abnormally high rates of tuberculosis among mail handlers (Dubovoy, 2011: 241). She brought her concerns to the Postmaster General Albert S. Burleson, but they were ignored. So she petitioned her husband’s chief advisor, Colonel House, to follow up, broaching the topic during a luncheon. House stated in his memoirs that the conversation was not “an exchange of pleasantries” and he hastily promised her to “take it up too and see that something is done along the lines of her suggestion” (Saunders, 1985: 246). House described Ellen’s forcefulness in pursuing the matter, despite what could be considered an inap­ propriate setting as well as an inappropriate request. When she made another unan­ nounced visit, in November 1913, to the Government Printing Office, the New York Times reported that she was there to inspect the “light, space and air, and other things essential to … the health and comfort of Government employees” (“Broke Office Rule for Mrs. Wilson”: 3). She again p­ etitioned her husband’s advisors to do something to improve the working conditions in government offices, showing concern for the impact these settings were having on the health of women workers in particular. Such actions expanded the role of first ladies in matters of the workplace, a common cause of progressive era reformers, and built on the similar concerns of Helen Taft (see Chapter 19 in this book). Some writers have questioned whether Ellen’s visits to government offices helped to spark the segregation that was sanctioned by her husband during the summer of 1913.

Miller claims that “it is fair to ask whether Ellen played a role in these decisions” but admits that it is “doubtful that she was the sole or predominant influence on his d­ecision to resegregate the federal offices” (Miller, 2010: 76–77). Miller also points out that, while Ellen may have shared her husband’s segregationist views, her a­dvocacy on behalf of improving housing conditions for African Americans evidenced a genuine concern for the welfare of DC’s black inhabitants and drew praise from the city’s African American newspaper the Washington Bee (2010: 77). Meanwhile, Dubovoy argues that the claim of an early historian who said that Ellen voiced “shocked disapproval … at seeing colored men and white women working in the same room at the Post Office Department” is likely false, since the post office had already been resegregated by the time Ellen paid her visit. She states that “[s]egregation of government departments was a high‐level, complex undertaking in which Ellen would have had no part,” although she adds that probably Ellen would not have objected to segregation either (Dubovoy, 2011: 242). Similarly, Anthony (1990: 346) writes that “legend began to circulate in the black community that it was the first lady who instigated segregation, specifically using the example of the Post Office.” But, like Dubovoy, he points out that Ellen’s visit to the post office took place after it had been resegregated. He goes on to say: “Yes, she was shocked, but at the work­ ing conditions, not integration. This was a woman who had lived and worked in New York and was used to integration” (Anthony, 1990: 346). Regardless of Ellen’s feelings about segregation, the primary reason for her visits to government offices was her con­ cerns regarding poor working conditions. While Ellen’s activities indicate that she believed that women should be interested in political matters, scholars offer various views concerning her stance on women’s suffrage. All three of her daughters supported s­uffrage, the middle daughter Jessie being



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the most vocal on account of her involvement with the settlement house movement. But Ellen’s views on voting rights are harder to discern, since she does not discuss the topic at length in her correspondence. Saunders argues that Ellen personally supported the cause but chose to keep her views to herself because she did not want to hurt her h­usband’s political career. Miller agrees, noting that she “would not take a public stand con­ trary to her husband’s” (Miller, 2010: 63). But Ellen did make a public statement in support of at least limited suffrage. She is quoted in a March 1913 Good Housekeeping article as saying: “The arguments of my Jessie incline me to believe in the suffrage for working women” (Daggett, 1913: 323). Although she attributes her views to her daughter, Ellen nevertheless made the first public statement in favor of suffrage to come from a president’s wife (Burns, 2004: 93). Ellen also served as honorary head of the Women’s National Democratic League, supporting the idea that women could be involved in politics even if they did not have the vote (Miller, 2010: 63). Some contemporary first ladies scholars have noted how Ellen’s social advocacy helped to expand the first lady’s roles, even if her work has largely been overlooked by their fellow researchers. Anthony claims that Ellen was “troubled by the lack of openly public social work in the First Lady role” and set out to fill that gap. He states: “Previous first ladies had assumed humane projects, but none had ever been so publicly spirited” as Ellen (Anthony, 1990: 347). According to Caroli, the “degree to which a more substantive, less purely social role for the president’s wife was becoming common rather than exceptional” is apparent in Ellen’s brief tenure. She points out that the fact that “such a reticent woman … should be drawn into a major reform effort s­uggests that it would be difficult for any woman in her place to withdraw completely from a public role” (Caroli, 1995: 134). Caroli adds that the alley bill was the first piece of

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legislation to receive such public support from a first lady, and it expanded her p­osition into policymaking (1995: 142). Similarly, Shelley Sallee claims that Ellen’s “sponsorship of legislation to improve living conditions in these alleys broadened the political potential of the institution of First Lady” (Sallee, 1996: 352). While Eleanor Roosevelt is generally credited by scholars with being the most socially active woman in her post, Ellen set a strong precedent for Roosevelt and others during her brief time in the White House. Miller notes that “Eleanor, observing Ellen Wilson first hand, would carry forward in her own life many of her predecessor’s initiatives” (Miller, 2010: 68). Margaret Truman claims that Eleanor “watched and remembered that a First Lady could back causes that subtly—and perhaps not so subtly—opposed the policies of her husband’s administration. … She undoubtedly grasped the inner meaning of Ellen Wilson’s quiet crusade” (Truman, 1995: 55). Meanwhile, Dubovoy argues that Ellen’s willingness to take on the “conspicuous role of social crusader” shows that “she was far from shy, and though ladylike, far from d­ocile. She knew how to pull political strings as well as her husband, and influence people even better than he” (Dubovsky, 2011: 228). Her work as a social advocate is p­ articularly remarkable, considering that most of it was done during her first year in the White House, as her health began to deteriorate in 1914. As I have argued else­ where, her use of her position to actively promote legislation and social reform inde­ pendently of her husband significantly altered the first lady’s role, expanding it well into the political sphere (Burns, 2004: 94). Unfortunately, some of the literature on first ladies fails to recognize the important contributions Ellen made to the position of first lady, often glossing over her tenure because of its brevity and focusing more on the influence of her controversial successor, Edith Wilson. As noted earlier, in her bio­ graphy of the Wilson wives, Miller devotes

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166 pages to Edith while only 89 pages are spent on Ellen. Anthony’s chapter on Ellen, “The Artist,” is seven pages long. He devotes instead five chapters and 34 pages to Edith. In addition, while many authors mention Ellen’s artwork, they overlook the significance of her artistic career. Her deci­ sion to exhibit and sell her paintings makes her one of the few first ladies to continue to pursue their career interests independently while in the White House. In 1913 this was an unprecedented step. Artist: A Working Woman in the White House For nearly twenty years, Ellen focused on raising her three children and on helping Woodrow advance in his career. This did not leave much time for her painting, although she would sketch on occasion and she v­isited art galleries whenever she traveled. As she explained, “three daughters take more time than three canvases” (Anthony, 1990: 343). It was her youngest brother Eddie’s death in 1905 and the encouragement of her h­usband that reignited her youthful interest in being a professional artist. Woodrow arranged for the family to spend the s­ummer in Old Lyme, Connecticut, a well‐known artists’ colony, in an effort to lift the depres­ sion that had gripped Ellen since Eddie’s untimely death in a tragic accident (which killed his wife and child as well). Ellen started painting landscapes, working both in water­ color and in oil, in the style of the American impressionists. She befriended several prom­ inent American painters, some of whom had also trained at the Art Students League (Saunders, 1985: 163). After this first sum­ mer, Ellen never abandoned her art again. Instead she pursued a career as a p­rofessional artist that would continue until her death. Biographers highlight the impact that the summers spent in the artists’ communities of Old Lyme and Cornish, New Hampshire, had on Ellen. During the summer of 1908,

she and her daughters stayed at Florence Griswold’s boarding house, which was the center of artistic activity in Old Lyme, while Woodrow vacationed alone in England. Miller (2010: 39) notes that Ellen “plunged back into the art world, developing the side of her life that was not entwined with Woodrow’s.” She took classes with the renowned painter and teacher Frank DuMond, who recognized her talent and arranged for her to have her own studio; this was rare for a summer student (Saunders, 1985: 192). After several summers, Ellen had amassed a collection of original paint­ ings, mainly landscapes, which her fellow artists encouraged her to show (Burns, 2004: 85). In November 1911, cognizant of the fact that her husband’s name was becoming nationally known, Ellen submit­ ted one of her canvasses for exhibition in New York; she did so under the name “W. Wilson” of Metuchen, New Jersey. It won a spot in the show, yet Saunders (1985: 256) points out that Ellen was still reluctant to display her work. She was finally convinced by friends and family, including her hus­ band, to hire a professional art agent in the spring of 1912. She wrote to William Macbeth, a prominent New York gallery owner and art dealer, asking him to review four of her paintings. In a letter of June 22, 1912, Macbeth replied that the paintings were “all most happy in composition and have much fine quality. I think they would hold their own very well in any public exhi­ bition” (quoted in Burns, 2004: 86). Wilson asked him in a follow‐up letter to be her agent, and he agreed. In the fall of 1912 Macbeth sent several of Ellen’s best works to various competitions. Her paintings were accepted at shows at the Art Institute of Chicago, the John Herron Art Institute of Indianapolis, the National Academy of Design in New York, and the Pennsylvania Academy of the Fine Arts; and several paint­ ings were sold (Dubovoy, 2011: 235). In addition, the Association of Women Painters and Sculptors chose five of her landscapes



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for exhibition. She accepted invitations to join that group and the Pen and Brush Club, an organization for professional women artists and writers founded in 1893 that is still active today. She is listed on the organization’s website as one of its “more well‐known” members, along with fellow First Lady Eleanor Roosevelt (Burns, 2004: 86). As Dubovoy (2011: 235) asserts: “At age 52, Ellen had at least ‘arrived’ as a p­rofessional artist in her own right.” In February 1913, just before her hus­ band’s inauguration, Ellen’s solo exhibition of fifty landscapes opened at the Arts and Crafts Guild in Philadelphia. In a February 21, 1913 review of her one‐woman show, a New York Times art critic wrote: “Mrs. Wilson’s paintings show her to be a real lover of nature and the possessor of a fine faculty for interpreting it. … The peace and quiet of her scenes are marked by subdued colors and a sacrifice of detail.” The show was a success, selling 24 paintings. Ellen donated all pro­ ceeds from her art sales to the Martha Berry School, a school for needy children in her hometown of Rome, Georgia (Saunders, 1985: 257). Because her public success as an artist coincided with her husband’s political triumph, Ellen had little time to savor the moment. But she continued to paint and sell her artwork while in the White House, pur­ suing an independent career while perform­ ing the duties of first lady (Burns, 2004: 84). Ellen’s artistic abilities were frequently mentioned in articles about the future first lady. A campaign article appearing in the July 18, 1912 issue of The Delineator reported: She has high talent as a landscape painter. Not the kind of thing that goes with a few well‐decorated china plates and a plaque to fill wall space; nor the quality that does place cards and an entertaining sketch­ book. But a real, big artist talent. (Arnold, 1912: 18)

The May 1913 issue of Ladies’ Home Journal contained full color reproductions

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of two of her works; these were designed to illustrate the new first lady’s artistic gifts. Ellen spent the summer of 1913 in the artist’s community of Cornish, New Hampshire, painting new canvases and s­elling her work. She actively sought buyers for her artwork as a way of raising money for the Berry School. She discussed her fund­ raising scheme in letters to her husband. In a letter from September 26, she noted: “This morning, the son of Mrs. Barnett who bought two of my paintings came and bought one for himself. That makes $350.00 of the $1,000 I want to raise myself for the Berry School” (Woodrow Wilson Papers, 1913). Ellen’s decision to use her artwork to raise money for a social cause showed her to be both a woman of independent f­inancial means and a committed advocate for social causes. First families often left DC during the summer to escape the heat; Ellen’s j­ourney, by contrast, was not some summer frolic. Instead, she chose to spend that time in pursuit of her own career as an artist, a remarkable development for a first lady. The only other presidential wife to focus on career‐related pursuits while still in office is Hillary Rodham Clinton, who campaigned for Senate during her final months as first lady (Burns, 2004: 96). Ellen was also the first first lady to earn money from an outside endeavor, not connected to her position (Miller, 2010: 93). Ellen’s biographers point out that the continuation of her artistic career during her White House years was an accomplish­ ment that has not been achieved by any other woman in her position. While she was not a full‐time artist, she had an agent, she belonged to professional organizations, and she continued to create, exhibit, and sell her work—all hallmarks of a professional a­r tist— during her time as first lady. Her artwork was in no way connected to her role as first lady; thus she is unique in that she was able to retain some level of independence despite the demands and constraints of the institution (Burns, 2004: 96). As Miller (2010: 93)

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points out, Ellen “continued to develop her separate identity as an artist while her h­ usband was in office.” Dubovoy (2011: xiv) argues that Ellen “was on the verge of making her own mark on the world as an artist before her untimely death.” Likewise, Anthony (1990: 348) claims that Ellen “might [have] become in a short time the first First Lady to also maintain a profes­ sional career.” Her work continues to be recognized as representative of the American impressionist movement. One of her paint­ ings is on permanent display at the Florence Griswold Museum in Old Lyme, Connecticut, which is dedicated to American impressionism. From October 2012 to January 2013, the museum hosted the e­ xhibition “The Art of First Lady Ellen Axson Wilson: American Impressionist.” An online version of the exhibit can still be viewed on the museum’s website (see Florence Griswold Museum, 2015). Several of her works are on display at the Woodrow Wilson Birthplace in Staunton, Virginia and at the Woodrow Wilson House in Washington, DC. C‐SPAN’s “First Ladies Influence & Image” website also has a s­pecial feature devoted to Ellen’s paintings (C‐SPAN, 2013). These resources recognize Ellen as a professional artist and invite researchers to further explore this important aspect of her life. Conclusion Ellen often told her daughters that no one should “rest on the laurels of another per­ son, but must grow to the limits of her own spirit, mind, and ability” (Saunders, 1985: 258). She was a woman who took her own advice, and in so doing accomplished more in her seventeen months in the White House than other first ladies did in four or eight years. Woodrow’s official biographer Ray Stannard Baker, the famous muckraking journalist, commented: “Stimulated by the opportunities for usefulness presented by

her new position, she added to the onerous traditional duties of the Mistress of the White House philanthropic and artistic activ­ ities” (Baker, 1931b: 462). She also served as hostess to numerous events, from informal political dinners to two White House wed­ dings, in spite of her failing health: she suf­ fered from Bright’s disease, a kidney ailment that curtailed her activities throughout 1914. Ellen had a history of kidney trouble dating back to her third pregnancy some twenty years earlier. But by the time the condition was diagnosed in the summer of 1914, she was exhibiting symptoms of advanced kidney disease and was beyond treatment (Miller, 2010: 90). One can only imagine what else she might have been able to do if her life had not been cut short. She died on August 6, 1914 in her White House bedroom, with Woodrow at her side. During her final hours, her main concerns were the status of the alley bill and her husband’s welfare. Her last words were to her doctor, whom she urged to “take good care of my husband” (Saunders, 1985: 276). This remarkable woman is finally starting to be recognized by scholars for her achieve­ ments and for the ways in which she expanded the first lady’s role. More recent works by first lady researchers and by Woodrow Wilson’s biographers highlight Ellen’s role in her husband’s career, her advocacy work, and her artistic endeavors. The fact that two biographies on Ellen appeared within a year of each other under­ lines this new emphasis and goes a long way toward recovering the memory of this for­ gotten first lady. C‐SPAN’s popular “First Ladies Influence & Image” series looked at the Wilsons wives in a two‐hour program, devoting roughly equal time to each woman (see C‐SPAN, 2013). But more attention to Ellen’s life is warranted, particularly from first lady scholars. There has been a ten­ dency in their work to begin discussions of the modern first lady institution with Eleanor Roosevelt, largely ignoring the accomplishments of early twentieth century



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presidential wives. While there is no disputing that Eleanor Roosevelt broke the mold for first ladies, her predecessors—particularly Ellen—laid the groundwork for Eleanor’s activist approach to the role. Researchers who are interested in first lady political i­nitiatives would benefit from studying more closely Ellen’s work on behalf of the alley bill and from comparing it to the achieve­ ments of other first ladies in policymaking. The existing scholarship on this topic either ignores Ellen’s efforts or offers just a brief paragraph summing up her work. Ellen has also been largely excluded from recent books that examine the political partner­ ships of presidential couples. Authors inter­ ested in the advisory role of political wives should look too at Ellen and Woodrow’s partnership, much of which can be traced through their correspondence and the memoirs of their contemporaries. Ellen was strongly influenced by progres­ sive ideals. Scholars interested in the growth of women’s political participation during the early twentieth century might consider Ellen as an example of women’s increased participation in the political sphere. Her advocacy for slum clearance and for the work of women like Charlotte Hopkins, Grace Bicknell, and their NCF colleagues is worthy of additional study. Whether c­ onsidered as an example of “municipal housekeeping” or as evidence of being a “new woman,” her conscious decision to publicly involve herself in supporting both controversial reform efforts and specific l­ egislation evidences a very prominent woman’s shift from private sphere concerns to participation in the political sphere. Ellen Axson Wilson broke ground for the first ladies who followed her. By serving as her husband’s advisor and by supporting a number of controversial social causes while continuing to work as a professional artist during her short time as first lady, Ellen in many ways surpassed the accomplishments of other modern counterparts (Burns, 2004: 87). Even though she is often excluded

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from discussions of modern era presidential wives, Ellen was a precursor to activist first ladies such as Eleanor Roosevelt, Lady Bird Johnson, Betty Ford, Rosalynn Carter, and Hillary Rodham Clinton. She expanded the role of first lady, making it encompass social advocacy, policymaking, and an inde­ pendent career. By examining the achieve­ ments of this long overlooked historical figure, scholars can better understand and appreciate the evolution of the institution of first lady.

References Anthony, C. S. 1990. First Ladies: The Saga of the Presidents’ Wives and Their Power, 1961–1990. New York: Morrow. Arnold, C. 1912. “The Governor’s Lady.” The Delineator, July: 18. Axson, S. 1993. Brother Woodrow, edited by A. S. Link, ed. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Baker, R. S. 1927. Woodrow Wilson, Life and Letters, vol. 1. Garden City, NY: Doubleday, Page. Baker, R. S. 1931a. Woodrow Wilson, Life and Letters, vol. 3. Garden City, NY: Doubleday, Page. Baker, R. S. 1931b. Woodrow Wilson, Life and Letters, vol. 4. Garden City, NY: Doubleday, Page. Beasley, M. 2005. First Ladies and the Press: The Unfinished Partnership of the Media Age. Evanston, IL: Northwestern University Press. Boller, P. F., Jr. 1998. Presidential Wives: An Anecdotal History, 2nd edn. New York: Oxford University Press. Borrelli, M. 2011. The Politics of the President’s Wife. College Station: Texas A&M University Press. “Broke Office Rule for Mrs. Wilson.” 1913. The New York Times, November 1: 3. Burns, L. M. 2004. A Forgotten First Lady: A Rhetorical Reassessment of Ellen Axson Wilson. In Inventing a Voice: The Rhetoric of American First Ladies of the Twentieth Century, edited by M. M. Wertheimer, 273– 295. Lanham, MD: Rowman and Littlefield. Burns, L. M. 2008. First Ladies and the Fourth Estate: Press Framing of Presidential Wives. DeKalb: Northern Illinois University Press.

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Caroli, B. B. 1995. First Ladies, expanded edn. New York: Oxford University Press. Clements, K. A. 1999. Woodrow Wilson: World Statesman. Chicago: I. R. Dee. Cooper, J. M., Jr. 2009. Woodrow Wilson: A Biography. New York: Alfred A. Knopf. C‐SPAN. 2013. “Ellen Wilson and Edith Wilson.” First Ladies Influence & Image, September 23. http://firstladies.c‐span.org/ FirstLady/29/Ellen‐Wilson.aspx (accessed June 23, 2014). Daggett, M. P. 1913. “Woodrow Wilson’s Wife.” Good Housekeeping, March: 316–323. Dubovoy, S. 2011. Ellen A. Wilson: The Woman Who Made a President. New York: Nova Science. Florence Griswold Museum. 2015. Online exhi­ bition with primary text from W. J. Anderson, “Woodrow and Ellen Axson Wilson in Old Lyme.” http://florencegriswoldmuseum.org/ exhibitions/online/woodrow‐and‐ellen‐ axson‐wilson‐in‐old‐lyme (accessed November 8, 2015). Gould, L. L. 1990. “Modern First Ladies and the Presidency.” Presidential Studies Quarterly 26: 677–683. Gutin, M. G. 1989. The President’s Partner: The First Lady in the Twentieth Century. New York: Greenwood Press. Link, A. S., D. W. Hirst, and J. Little, eds. 1966. The Papers of Woodrow Wilson, 48 vols. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. Marton, K. 2001. Hidden Power: Presidential Marriages That Shaped Our Recent History. New York: Pantheon Books. McAdoo, E. W., ed. 1962. The Priceless Gift: The Love Letters of Woodrow and Ellen Axson Wilson. New York: McGraw‐Hill.

McAdoo, W. G. 1931. Crowded Years: The Reminiscences of William Gibbs McAdoo. Boston: Houghton Mifflin. Miller, K. 2010. Ellen and Edith: Woodrow Wilson’s First Ladies. Lawrence: University Press of Kansas. Sallee, S. 1996. “Ellen (Louise) Axson Wilson.” In American First Ladies: Their Lives and Legacy, edited by L. L. Gould, 341–354. New York: Routledge. Saunders, F. W. 1985. Ellen Axson Wilson: First Lady between Two Worlds. Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press. Troy, G. 2000. Mr. and Mrs. President: From the Trumans to the Clintons. Lawrence: University Press of Kansas. Truman, M. 1995. First Ladies. New York: Random House. Watson, R. P., and A. J. Eksterowicz. 2002. The Presidential Companion: Readings on First Ladies. Columbia: University of South Carolina Press. Wertheimer, M. M. 2004. Leading ladies of the White House: Communication Strategies of Notable Twentieth Century First Ladies. Lanham, MD: Rowman and Littlefield. The White House Historical Association. 2015. “The White House Historical Association Announces Free Exhibit on the Kennedy Rose Garden.” http://www.whitehousehistory. org/whha_about/images/WHHA‐ Press‐2015–0715‐Kennedy‐Exhibit‐Release. pdf (accessed July 18, 2015). Woodrow Wilson Papers. 1913. “Series 2: Family and General Correspondence, 1786–1924.” Washington, DC: Library of Congress. Unpublished manuscript (in the author’s t­ranscription).

Chapter Twenty One

Edith Wilson: The First Lady in Charge Barbara Klaczynska

Introduction Edith Bolling Galt Wilson was unique among first ladies. She was one of only three women to marry an American president while he was in office—and the only one in the twentieth century. Moreover, she was only the second first lady to marry a presi­ dent whose first wife had been a first lady too. She assisted President Woodrow Wilson from the days of their courtship throughout the five years of his remaining presidency and beyond, as he became increasingly i­ ncapacitated. Edith travelled to Europe with her husband after World War I and together they were fêted in a way no American presidential couple had ever been. Most remarkable about Edith is the role she played in the government when Woodrow Wilson suffered a series of strokes in 1919. She took the place of the president at the conclusion of World War I, when he was struggling to have the United States com­ mit to the League of Nations. She entered into a conspiracy with his doctors to keep him in office despite his illness, and this would later be used to argue for an amend­ ment to the constitution to prevent just such an occurrence (Berg, 2013: 6). Unlike

any first lady before or since, she served as gatekeeper, decision maker, secretary, and advocate for her husband. After Wilson’s presidency she continued to make it possible for him to live with his disabilities until his death in 1924. She survived him by four decades and worked to preserve his memory and to serve as a link, for politicians and for the American people as a whole, with the important years of Wilson’s presidency. In this way, if not through her assumption of power at the end of Wilson’s second term, she set a pattern for other surviving first ladies (Berg, 2013). Scholars have long wrestled with the problem of understanding the dimensions of Edith’s participation in the presidency—they and the public have pondered how she came to assume so much power. By looking at the variegated scholarship that has been devoted to this most controversial first lady, the pre­ sent chapter explores the dimensions of her role and how she has been portrayed over the last century. As the following pages will show, scholars’ criticisms of Edith’s inter­ vention after her husband’s stroke, though certainly compelling, have sometimes been exaggerated to the point of c­aricature, limit­ ing our understanding of her very human

A Companion to First Ladies, First Edition. Edited by Katherine A. S. Sibley. © 2016 John Wiley & Sons, Inc. Published 2016 by John Wiley & Sons, Inc.

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qualities as Woodrow’s wife and key care­ taker, as well as her later legacy as his widow. Woodrow Wilson met Edith in March 1915, six months after the death of his first wife Ellen and at the beginning of his third year as president. Edith was then a success­ ful businesswoman and widow operating a jewelry business that she inherited from her first husband, Norman Galt. John Milton Cooper notes that, if she was not a merry widow, she was a liberated one. She obtained the first driver’s license issued to a woman in the District of Columbia, played golf, attended the theater, had romances, and traveled extensively (Cooper, 2009). The lonely widower Wilson courted Edith openly and passionately during his presi­ dency, as the nation watched the romance publicly unfold and gossiped about what these adults were doing behind closed doors. A. Scott Berg, Wilson’s biographer, tells us that Wilson romanced Edith with sheaves of letters and private meetings, just as he had done with his first wife Ellen, and Edith in turn worshipped him. Once m­arried, she almost never left his side. While Ellen had also been a close political adviser to Woodrow, Edith went further, her political involvement often becoming quite personal as well. She would attempt to establish who the key players in the presi­ dent’s life were and to define the details of the decisions he had to make; she took an active role in influencing him. As first lady during World War I, she was involved in Woodrow Wilson’s efforts, first, to resist entry, next, to become involved, and, finally, to make plans for the League of Nations and for its goal of ending future wars. She was the first first lady to accompany a sitting president to Europe; and her trips included public and private receptions, visits to royal palaces, and participation in parades that equaled what would be offered to royalty and to conquering heroes. Edith’s legacy provides a mixture of responses. She asserted personal leadership and control while passionately opposing the

rights of women to obtain the vote in the United States and to participate in the polit­ ical process. Judith Weaver illustrates how Edith’s role in limiting her husband’s access to alternative voices on the League of Nations was central to the League’s later failure (Weaver, 1985: 69). Phyllis Lee Levin summarizes Edith Wilson in this way: “Her impassioned devotion to Woodrow Wilson and the self‐denying care she gave through­ out his final years are inevitably clouded … by the imposture of which Mrs. Wilson was the chief author” as well as by the untoward “influence [she] wielded over great deci­ sions” (Levin, 2001: 200, 518). Moreover, unlike Wilson’s first wife Ellen, Edith failed to use her position so as to assist social causes, address issues of poverty, challenge racism, or speak out for women’s rights. Kristie Miller (2010) provides a thorough comparison between Ellen’s social con­ sciousness and Edith’s political engagement. Yet Edith was a role model for American women in wartime—knitting, selling bonds, working in a canteen, visiting the wounded both at home and abroad. Because she lived so long, she was also a force in future admin­ istrations, all the way up through John Kennedy’s administration (Miller, 2010). Her life is further documented by a trove of sources: her personal letters, official cor­ respondence, her memoirs, the memoirs of friends and opponents, and massive coverage in the press about her most visible role. Recently new material has highlighted the president’s medical condition, illuminating the unprecedented authority that Edith assumed after his stroke (Berg, 2013). Edith continues to be a subject of interest, praise, and criticism and to serve as a touchstone for the appropriate roles of modern first ladies. Life History Edith Wilson was born on October 16, 1872 in Wytheville, Virginia—a town with two thousand inhabitants, situated in the



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southwest corner of the state, in the shadow of the Blue Ridge Mountains. The Civil War and the end of slavery meant unaccustomed poverty for families like Edith’s—her grand­ father had owned a plantation with one hundred enslaved people. By contrast, her family’s three‐story home on a main street was shabby and inadequate; they rented the ground floor to shopkeepers and took in boarders in order to support their nine chil­ dren and live‐in relatives. Edith was the favorite child of Anne Wigginton Bolling, her paternal grandmother, and this meant a great deal of attention, but also a lot of work for Edith as a growing‐up girl. Edith slept with her grandmother so she could assist her on a twenty‐four‐hour basis. She was respon­ sible for washing and ironing her grandmother’s clothing, for caring for her 26 canaries, and even for organizing mock funerals for them when they died (Wilson, 1939b: 4–6). This same grandmother told her wistfully about the family’s privileged past. Edith did not attend school consistently but was instructed at home instead; she studied French and English, poetry, music and dressmaking, as well as handicrafts. Her grandmother told her stories and her father read from classics of English literature aloud to the family; he also hired a tutor for Edith and sometimes took her traveling. She attended a finishing school, Martha Washington College, in Abingdon, Virginia and then, briefly, Powell’s School for Girls in Richmond. Her father refused to pay for any additional schooling, choosing to send her three brothers to school instead. Overall Edith’s education was limited and her h­andwriting was nearly illegible. Raised in the Jim Crow South, Edith thought nothing of telling pejorative stories about African Americans; she brought this outlook into the White House and it remained in her memoir (Wilson, 1939b). She also entertained prejudices toward Jews. Despite Edith’s close friendship with Jewish entrepreneur Bernard Baruch and his daughter Belle, who became her travelling

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companion, Phyllis Lee Levin found that Edith used unflattering stereotypes about Jews as part of her everyday conversation and writing (Levin, 2001: 52–63). Edith’s family, ironically, had diverse roots, tracing back to Pocahontas and John Rolfe. She proudly talked about her Native American heritage, and everyone, from the White House seamstress to New York Times reporters, saw— not always with apprecia­ tion—signs of Edith’s features that proved her Indian roots. The first lady emphasized her ancestry when choosing the names of a new fleet of naval vessels, which were c­hristened after Native American tribes. In turn, the public sent her Indian items—such as a beaded belt said to have been owned by Pocahontas. Nevertheless, Edith indicated little interest in improving the living condi­ tions of Native Americans. In 1924 her home state of Virginia passed a law that could have caused her to be considered “colored” on account of this background and would have restricted her marriage partners and her access to public events, although the law was altered to exclude people like Edith, who traced less than one sixteenth of their origins to Native heritage. The economic deprivation of Edith’s family after the Civil War, and the snobbish atti­ tudes of upper‐class Washingtonians toward her and her first husband as trades people may have pushed her to emphasize her Indian royal lineage. Of course, Edith had left Virginia well before 1924. In her early twenties she joined the household of her married sister in Washington, DC, where she was introduced by her brother‐in‐law Alexander Galt to his cousin Norman Galt. She married him in 1896, and in 1903 bore him a son who died shortly after birth. She had no other c­hildren (Wilson, 1939b: 13–17). In 1908 Norman Galt died unexpectedly and Edith inherited his share in his family’s jewelry business—Galt and Brothers. She hired a manager, bought out Norman’s brother’s share, paid off the store’s debts,

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and became financially successful. Edith lived an adventurous life as a prosperous widow. From her home in DuPont Circle she traveled widely to Europe; and she drove around the district in an electric car (Cooper, 2009: 282). Edith Bolling Galt Meets Woodrow Wilson Edith Bolling Galt was forty‐two and had been a widow for eight years when she met Woodrow Wilson, sixteen years her senior and then a widower for just six months. Five feet nine inches tall, with gray eyes and thick dark hair, her smile, her southern accent and the stories she told were all part of what was considered her charm. She was active and enjoyed taking long walks in Washington’s Rock Creek Park as well as horseback riding. Woodrow Wilson’s first wife Ellen had died during his first term, leaving the presi­ dent lonely and despondent. Wilson is said to have spotted Edith walking on the street and was so impressed by her that he asked his physician‐advisor, Dr. Cary Travers Grayson, who she was (Cooper, 2009). Helen Bones, the president’s cousin and sometimes official hostess since the death of Ellen, introduced Woodrow and Edith in March 1915, when Edith came to the White House with Helen for tea. Edith and Woodrow’s friendship quickly turned into romance. She became a frequent guest for meals and events at the White House. She and Woodrow shared the background of growing up in a post‐Civil War South (Levin, 2001: 57). Woodrow demonstrated a boyish eager­ ness to spend time with Edith. He sent her books and flowers, including boxes of roses and orchids, which eventually became her symbol. Six weeks into the relationship Woodrow professed his love for her. This was a little fast for Edith and, when Helen Bones told her that she was breaking Woodrow’s heart with her reluctance to

commit to the relationship, Edith replied that she needed to get to know him, and she did not want to commit out of pity for his loneliness (Berg, 2013: 361). She also w­orried about the political dangers that too quick a courtship and marriage might entail for a president who would be facing r­ eelection the following year. But she c­ontinued to see Wilson and their courtship sped along. Edwin Tribble’s (1981) edited collection A President in Love: The Courtship Letters of Woodrow Wilson and Edith Boling Galt, which Edith permitted to be published only after her death, shows a correspondence that is quite eager and unguarded. Tribble (1981: xvii) notes Wilson’s ardent expres­ sions and calls him “highly sexed,” but not especially witty in his writing. The president kindly tried to assuage Edith’s sensitivity about her lack of education by comparison to him; he assured her that he loved her for who she was and could never love a “b­luestocking.” He wrote with passion as well: “I dare not try to write you a love l­etter this morning. It hurts too much because you are away” (quoted in Tribble, 1981: 75). Most of the letters, of course, were written when they were both in Washington, just a short distance from each other. These missives underline a time of acute highs and lows, the characteristics of an all‐ consuming love affair. At one point the president, who was haunted his entire life by severe high blood pressure and its repercus­ sions, tells Edith that he felt he was going to burst an artery with longing. Wilson expresses his desire, moreover, to smother her with kisses and uses words that might not be expected from the son of a minister or from the sitting president of the United States. Tribble marvels that Wilson, penning up to four letters a day, was truly defying the clock. After all, he was “writing from one of the busiest places in the world, the White House in wartime … How he found time to write so frequently and at such length (and



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always by hand) is one of the mysteries of the correspondence” (Tribble, 1981: xix). Edith responded quickly, with intensity and enthusiasm, to his written expressions of love. Appealing to his sensibilities, she used literary references, including to Williams James’s essay “On a Certain Blindness in Human Beings.” But she also used her l­etters to dispense political advice, expressing her reservations about Wilson’s closest advisor, Colonel Edward House, about both of his secretaries of state, William Jennings Bryan and Robert Lansing, and about Wilson’s personal assistant, Joseph Patrick Tumulty. Woodrow did not always agree, especially on Tumulty (Tribble, 1981: 164–166), who had been one of Ellen Wilson’s favorites. While the two lovers scribbled, close observers and the public speculated about the nature of Edith and Woodrow’s rela­ tionship. On their walks in Rock Creek Park, Wilson leaped over walls and hugged Edith, leaving the secret service men nearby embarrassed. Although it is unlikely that the couple made love at the White House before they were married, they may have been i­ntimate during their vacation in Cornish, New Hampshire in June and July 1915, five months before their wedding (Shachtman, 1981). Once they became engaged, the president felt he could visit Edith in her Washington home, and was heard walking home singing Seymour Brown’s popular love song “Oh you beautiful doll! You great big beautiful doll! Let me put my arms around you, I can hardly live without you” (Shachtman, 1981: 518). Such ardent amorousness fueled rumors that Woodrow and Edith had been seeing each other before Ellen’s death, or that his infatuation led Woodrow to neglect his wife’s memory. A typographical error in The Washington Post reported on its front page on October 9, 1915 that the previous even­ ing the president had “entered” rather than “entertained” Edith at the White House; this paper was soon pulled. In response to

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the ravenous media, Dr. Grayson tried to place himself between Edith and photo­ graphers who bothered her near the White House, and she learned to hold her hand­ bag in front of her face. In early September Wilson proposed to Edith, just fourteen months after the death of his first wife Ellen. Edith writes in her memoirs that she refused Wilson’s proposal, saying that it was too short a time since his wife’s passing; a refusal was the proper response from a “gently” bred woman. However, Wilson’s biographer John Milton Cooper tells us that on the same night she went home and wrote him a love poem and a note that indicated she was not going to keep him waiting for long (Cooper, 2009: 283–284). The engagement was complicated by rumors about Wilson’s relationship with Mary Allen Hulbert Peck, a woman he had visited during trips to Bermuda and contin­ ued to see when she moved to New York City while his first wife Ellen was still alive. According to Levin, two of Wilson’s inner circle—Secretary of the Treasury William McAdoo, his son‐in‐law, and Colonel Edward House—came to Wilson and said there was a letter from Peck threatening blackmail. This was not true; but, as Levin suggests, they hoped that Wilson’s belief in the existence of this letter would delay or cancel the marriage to Edith. Wilson went to Edith and confessed his previous r­elationship with Peck and offered his fiancée a chance to end their courtship in order to avoid embarrassment. Edith, instead, used the incident as an opportunity to renew her commitment to Wilson (Levin, 2001: 115– 118). She would also ensure that Peck never was part of their lives. She would not forget the role of this inner circle, however, and in particular that of Colonel House, in deceiving Wilson and making efforts to undermine her relation­ ship with him. Indeed she was jealous of House from the start; Wilson called him his “wonderful counselor,” a role that Edith

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wanted. To counter his influence, Edith “reinforced her claim as Wilson’s main con­ fidante by suggesting House’s frailties” (Levin, 2001: 504). Later, as Kristie Miller notes, Edith attempted to remove House from his position as negotiator at the end of World War I and cut off his access to the president completely after the latter’s stroke (Miller, 2010: 122). Edith’s argument for House’s unsuitability was that he was too eager to please. She stated: “The one thing which had disturbed me was that he so s­eldom disagreed with my husband. It seems impossible for two persons always to think alike … I find him absolutely colorless and a yes–yes man” (Wilson, 1939b: 236). Edith provides in her memoirs an alter­ native account of how she found out about Mary Peck’s existence and threat to her rela­ tionship. It was Grayson who told her, she writes, and then took her to the president, who had collapsed and was laying on a bed in a darkened room, in abject misery at her possible reaction (Levin, 2001: 116). Edith’s official biographer Alden Hatch, however, disagrees, and relates that Wilson actually broke the news to her in person, without a collapse—a version that Levin also endorses (Levin, 2001: 117). Regardless of what actually happened, scholars agree that Woodrow Wilson deeply needed Edith and knew that the threat of not having her would result in serious difficulties for him. Ishbel Ross, Edith’s biographer, tells us that Colonel House wrote in his diary: “If he does not marry, and marry quickly, I believe he will go into decline” (quoted in Ross, 1975: 44–45). If so, this puts another q­uestion mark around the blackmail threat. Edith and Woodrow’s courtship was closely watched. On the day after their engagement the president traveled to the second game of the World Series with Edith and her mother in Philadelphia and was cheered along the route by a crowd of twenty‐one thousand people. But Wilson was oblivious to everything and everybody else except the beautiful woman at his side

at that game—so much so that he did not rise or remove his hat for the national anthem until he realized what was happen­ ing. There were reports that, as president, he spent all his time with Edith—dining, visiting, driving, and calling on the private line he had installed between the White House and her home. His appearance was transformed as well: he changed from his black mourning clothes to blue suits and colorful ties and became more gregarious (Miller, 2010: 126). Wilson’s first wife, Ellen, had made t­remendous sacrifices for her husband, for­ going necessities for herself and her children in order to allow Woodrow the respite of travel and rest that helped him recover from various medical conditions (Levin, 2001; see also Chapter  20 in this book). Edith filled that need in a different way, but with equally impassioned concern. Woodrow and Edith’s close physical and emotional ties were critical to his ability to address the t­remendous pressure that he experienced in the years of his presidency following their marriage and to deal with his sometimes fragile health. The Wilson courtship was carried out under challenging circumstances; with the secret service watching his every move, the president decided that he would not visit with Edith without the presence of a family member, although there were instances of their being alone in the back seat of a limou­ sine. Eventually they found ways to obtain privacy—including on vacations to New York and other cities, which they spent with friends and family aboard the presidential yacht Mayflower (Miller, 2010: 112). Early on, Edith took a deep interest in Wilson’s work and he willingly involved her in it. She wrote to him: Much as I love your delicious love letters[,] I believe I enjoy even more the ones in which you tell me … of what you are working on—the things that fill your thoughts and demand your best effort, for



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then I feel I am sharing your work and being taken into partnership as it were. (Edith Wilson, quoted in Weaver, 1985: 52)

Undaunted by her lack of experience and knowledge, she provided feedback and told him that, if she did not receive from him a “big” envelope in the afternoon mail, she felt cheated. Phyllis Weaver (1985: 52–54) notes that it is not clear whether Wilson ever followed Edith’s advice, but the importance of her role lies in his continually asking her advice and thanking her for her input. Indeed, even before he married Edith, Woodrow was sharing with her reports and correspondence, including large bundles he sent to her on vacation in New Hampshire. During their subsequent engagement Wilson gave Edith copies of his speeches for review and approval. He shared diplomatic commu­ niqués with her as well. She marked the material he gave her with notes, suggestions, and questions—fully participating in the process of governing (Levin, 2001: 74, 100). Wilson’s biographers Berg (2013) and Cooper (2009) confirm Edith’s active involvement in understanding and advising Wilson from an early stage in the courtship. However, Arthur Link, Woodrow’s biogra­ pher and the editor of the Wilson Papers, stated that he could find no evidence that she made any attempt to determine or even influence national policies and decisions. According to Ross, too, it was “enough merely to love Woodrow Wilson and be his wife” (Ross, 1975: 19). Edith’s influence on the president continues to be a question of debate. Secret service agent Edmund Starling declared that the president “w­orshiped Mrs. Wilson, but she could not have made him change his mind about t­ aking another bite of toast” (quoted in Miller, 2010: 145). Yet Edith and Colonel House were the only two advisors he c­onsulted when he decided who should be on the Paris Peace Conference commission (Miller, 2010: 153).

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Right from the beginning of his relation­ ship with Edith, the president was faced with major crises, which gave the future first lady an opportunity to exercise what influ­ ence she had. In May 2015, just two months after the two met, the British ship Lusitania was torpedoed without warning by a German submarine off the Irish coast and 1,189 men, women, and children were drowned; 114 of them were American c­ itizens. Under tremendous pressure to respond to the incident, Wilson wrote a note to the German government insisting on strict accountability for their actions. Considering that the United States was not actively protesting the British blockade of Germany, Secretary of State William Jennings Bryan was uncomfortable with Wilson’s response, which he thought would lead to war. He offered to resign, and Edith encouraged Wilson to accept the offer and replace him (Levin, 2001: 75, 83). Edith’s influence on Wilson was thus e­ vident early on. In her memoirs she describes her daily briefings with the presi­ dent about various events, and how she “sat in” when people came to discuss politics. She relished her ability to be helpful in “small ways.” Cooper (2009) points out that Colonel House started noting Wilson’s not seeking his advice or listening to people whom he had trusted in the past. Neither was House pleased that he now had to listen to the naïve political opinions of Edith (Cooper, 2009: 298). In the long run the president was influenced by his wife’s o­pinions of House, which, when combined with other accusations about his close c­onfidant’s disloyalty in the postwar peace negotiations, ended their friendship and obliterated his role as Wilson’s advisor. Married Life Edith and Woodrow were married in front of 40 guests, on December 18, 1915, at Edith’s home in Washington. The couple

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honeymooned for two weeks at the Homestead resort in Virginia while the country devoured the newspaper coverage of the wedding, the honeymoon and the couple’s first Christmas celebration. Edith enabled the aloof and distant Woodrow Wilson to connect with the country in ways he had never been able to do before. She summarized her feelings in a note she wrote to her mother the day after the wedding: “The weather is cold but radiant and so are we” (quoted in Shachtman, 1981: 524). Their honeymoon ended two days earlier than planned, when Wilson’s advisors r­ecommended he return to Washington in response to the German sinking of the SS Persia in early January 1916 with two h­undred on board, including four American passengers. That same week, Mexican revo­ lutionary Pancho Villa killed 17 American employees of the American Smelting and Refining Company in Chihuahua, Mexico on a train he held up; he would invade New Mexico and kill another 18 in early March. As the international situation was looking increasingly threatening, Edith accompa­ nied her husband on a tour to argue for war preparedness beginning on January 29 in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. As they entered the great halls where crowds had gathered to hear the president’s speech, they were greeted by bands playing “The Star Spangled Banner” and “Here Comes the Bride.” Edith became the center of attention and her wardrobe, complexion, and the atten­ tion she paid the president dominated this early press coverage of her, as did her gra­ ciousness to the crowds (Levin, 2001). During his reelection campaign later that year, Mrs. Wilson became an important asset in what proved to be a hard‐fought reelection against republican nominee Charles Evans Hughes. She was the first wife of a president to sit beside the chief j­ ustice when her husband delivered his s­econd inaugural address and the first one to stand behind him when he took the oath of office in March 1917.

Edith’s social role as first lady was some­ what subdued as most of the five years she spent as the president’s wife occurred d­uring a presidential campaign, a world war, two extensive trips to Europe, and the presi­ dent’s long‐term and debilitating illness. She and Woodrow also closed the White House grounds to visitors. Edith eventually was drawn into hostess‐like official duties that included christening ships and opening Red Cross facilities. However, when she presented a flag to a Girl Scout troop in Philadelphia in 1918, no one could hear what she said. She commented that she had “never made a speech” up until that time: “I didn’t think I could” (quoted in Miller, 2010: 155). Where she did find her voice was at Wilson’s side in the White House, where she often attended his meetings in the Oval Office. Levin (2001) writes that she was less interested in the themes and issues of the White House than in its casting, and fre­ quently conveyed her opinions on Wilson’s Cabinet members, advisors, senators and congressmen, and diplomats. Edith’s assess­ ments were delivered with coquettish charm or vitriolic outrage and, one by one, she examined, attacked, eliminated, and in a few cases redeemed Wilson’s formal and i­nformal advisors (Levin, 2001: 159). For example, she targeted Secretary of the Navy Josephus Daniels when he opposed the p­romotion of her close friend Dr. Grayson. She made no secret of her distaste of Joseph Tumulty either—who refused to be removed from office until the end of Wilson’s p­residency (Levin, 2001: 160–161). From the beginning of the Wilsons’ court­ ship Edith took pride in being suspicious about the people with whom Woodrow worked. Not one to hold back, she described Theodore Roosevelt as a villain and said that she wanted to knock his teeth out. She labeled William Jennings Bryan as a traitor. Woodrow wrote approvingly of Edith’s expressions of fury, saying that he loved her for getting so angry on his behalf (Levin, 2001: 159).



edith wilson: the first lady in charge

Wartime First Lady As Alden Hatch (1961) notes, Edith was an integral presence in the president’s meetings, appearances, conferences, and everyday work during this tense international period. American ambassador to Germany James W. Gerard reported that she was an active p­ articipant in his meetings at the White House. She also witnessed the Polish p­resident and famed pianist Jan Paderewski kneel to Wilson, in supplication for America’s involvement in helping his coun­ try (Hatch, 1961: 85). Levin agrees that Edith would become confidante and secre­ tary, as well as encoder and decipherer of secret messages for the president, before, during, and after World War I (Levin, 2001: 153–156). Edith’s access to classified infor­ mation upset the president’s advisers. By March 1917, even before the United States was at war, she met with Secretary Daniels to discuss arming ships. She explained that the president had a cold and that she was delegated to discuss the matter (Levin, 2001: 576). The first lady assumed a variety of roles during the war. She considered her most important war work to be safeguarding the health of her husband. As he had a history of strokes and other problems that resulted from hypertension, she worked with his doc­ tor to enforce a regimen of exercise. She went out with Wilson for early morning horseback rides, golfed with him before breakfast, and took walks with him whenever time permitted. Edith took on a public role to demonstrate commitment to the war effort as well, and volunteered at the Red Cross canteen at Union Station. Her office also issued a press release warning soldiers to protect themselves from sexually transmitted diseases they could encounter abroad. As noted above, the social side of the White House was transformed by the war. Festive dinners, diplomatic receptions, and other public events were eliminated. As a wartime first lady, Edith set an example by

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having gasless Sundays, meatless Mondays, and wheatless Wednesdays. Edith and Woodrow took a horse‐drawn carriage to church on Sundays, in order to show that they were not wasting fuel. Edith also brought out her old sewing machine and stitched together pajamas for the soldiers in hospitals; she and other women from the president’s family knitted items that would be sent to the troops. Berg notes that Edith was the first woman in the country to sign the women’s registration card for rationing (Berg, 2013: 448–449). Most visibly, the Wilsons brought in sheep to graze on the White House lawn rather than wasting manpower in mowing it; and they auctioned off the wool for the benefit of the American Red Cross. As a result, the lawn was closed to the public— not a popular move for the many visitors who loved to walk the grounds. While these measures show Edith’s strong support for the war effort, some historians have pointed out that the sheep farm allowed the White House to be turned into a fortress, serving to keep the president’s condition out of public view during his illness (Sibley, 2009: 76). The sheep were not removed until the Harding administration. The Wilsons and Women’s Suffrage Despite her role as a woman supporting the war effort, Edith Wilson remained opposed to suffrage for her gender. Efforts to obtain the vote for women in the United States culminated during Wilson’s administration and accurately targeted the president as the linchpin in preventing the passage of federal legislation that enabled women to vote. Woodrow Wilson had opposed suffrage from his time as a student at Princeton in 1876, through his years as a professor there, and beyond. Woodrow told Edith that when he attended a women’s congress in 1884 he experienced a “chilled, scandalized feeling [which] comes over me when I see and hear

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women speak in public” (Slagell and Zaeske, 2004: 104). In 1911, as governor of New Jersey, he again declared himself strongly opposed to equal suffrage. In 1913, when nine states allowed women to vote and they significantly influenced his election to the presidency, he still stated that he had given no thought to women’s voting. Over time, Wilson began to justify his opposition to a suffrage amendment to the constitution as a states’ rights issue: individual states should decide voting issues in their jurisdictions. However, it was clear that some states—particularly in the South—would continue to resist equal s­uffrage. During his presidency he argued that legislating over suffrage would take up too much time in Congress, where more important issues were pressing. Wilson, however, shifted his stance and decided to support a suffrage plank on the New Jersey ballot just at the time he announced his engagement to Edith—in September 1915. While the plank failed, Edith was mistakenly credited with Wilson’s new approach: The Aberdeen (SD) American stated that “[s]he had been a close student of the suffrage cause” (quoted in Miller, 2010: 127). Dr. Grayson confided to his fiancée, Altrude Gordon, that the “joke is she is against it” (Dr. Gayson, quoted in Miller, 2010: 127). Wilson also told Carrie Chapman Catt, head of the National Women’s Suffrage Association, that he sup­ ported the campaign in New York. But he remained opposed to a suffrage amendment at the national level. In 1916, in an acrimo­ nious debate, the Democratic Party recog­ nized suffrage but neither their presidential nominee nor the party endorsed a congres­ sional amendment. That year, too, Wilson spoke to a meeting of four thousand two hundred new women voters in Illinois. Ironically, these new voters once again applauded Edith—not aware of her private opposition to women’s suffrage (Miller, 2010: 142). Activists, however, were not fooled by Edith’s reputation as a supporter

and, understanding the couple’s joint oppo­ sition, taunted them for it. Indeed, women protesters were becom­ ing increasingly vocal and visible, as activists like Alice Paul and her fellow members of the National Women’s Party led the efforts to obtain the vote for women. In December 1916, when women were picketing on a sleeting day in front of the White House, Woodrow asked Colonel House to invite them inside for tea. They refused, however, offending the president. The pickets intensi­ fied in 1917. On June 20, when representa­ tives of the new Russian republic, just formed into a state, came to the White House with representatives from Belgium, France, and Italy, Edith expressed embar­ rassment, on her husband’s behalf, for the scene of suffrage protesters and their angry opponents outside. On July 14—Bastille Day—women’s suffrage advocates protested in front of the White House with banners bearing the French national motto “Liberty, Equality, Fraternity.” This time the protest­ ers were arrested for “obstructing traffic” and sentenced to sixty days in Occoquan Workhouse. They chose imprisonment over fines, in order to make their message more prominent. Edith was appalled; Hatch (1961) quotes her calling the suffragists “detestable” in her diary and notes that she urged her husband against leniency. But the president took Grayson’s advice and signed for their release that summer. This prompted her to com­ plain: “Woodrow decided to pardon those devils in the workhouse … it was a mistake” (Hatch, 1961: 80). Even Edith’s authorized biographer was stunned by her attitude: “that a woman as intelligent as she, who played so confident a role in great events, should favor disenfranchisement by sex seems extraordinary” (Hatch, 1961: 79). Of all the issues and problems that Edith Wilson faced, none provoked her to such anger and fury as the women’s suffrage pro­ testers. Edith wrote that the only speech of Woodrow Wilson she did not enjoy was his



edith wilson: the first lady in charge

speech to a meeting of suffragists in Atlantic City on September 8, 1916 (Hatch, 1961: 79). She wrote in her diary that she hated the subject with “acute agony” (Levin, 2001: 581); and she remained passionate about it. She wrote in an article that appeared many years later in The Saturday Evening Post that she was still “blazing with anger” that Dudley Field Malone, whom Wilson had appointed collector of the port of New York, defended the suffragist p­ rotesters when they were arrested for p­icketing (Wilson, 1939a: 45). In a later protest in the fall of 1917, Alice Paul and other members of the National Women’s Party were arrested again and given harsh seven‐month sentences to the Occoquan Workhouse. After a little more than a week in jail, on October 30, Paul and others began a hunger strike; the women were brutally force‐fed. Paul was transferred to a psychopathic ward and further intimi­ dated by not being allowed to sleep. After he began receiving complaints about this treatment, Wilson released the suffragists from prison once again. As the intensity of the picketing subsided, Wilson began to work with Congress toward the adoption of a federal amendment that granted women the right to vote (Miller, 2010: 152). Wilson’s view was clearly shifting, and on January 9, 1918 he brought democratic congressmen to the White House to urge them to approve the Nineteenth Amendment, which passed Congress the following day (Levin, 2001: 183; Miller, 2010: 152). The contribution of women to the c­ ountry in World War I could not be ignored, as Wilson knew, and this helped shift his thinking. Christine Lunardini and Thomas Knock note that, from 1914 to 1920, Wilson held about fifty interviews with suffrage delegations and consulted with members of Congress about suffrage at least eighty times, often at his own initiative. They argue that Wilson also came to see s­ uffrage as critical to the full democratic

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reconstruction of the world (Lunardini and Knock, 1980–1981: 669, 671). Edith e­ventually joined him; she accompanied her husband during a speech delivered from the Senate balcony on September 30, 1918 that urged senators to pass suffrage. He also l­obbied members of Congress personally to pass the amendment and contacted key decision makers in order to ensure its p­assage in state legislatures—a requirement for the bill’s becoming law. Amy R. Slagell and Susan Zaeske also argue that Edith’s hostility was not directed at the issue but more at how the issue affected her role as her husband’s defender and protector. They suggest that, since other wings of the women’s suffrage m­ ovement disapproved of Alice Paul and the National Women’s Party, Edith’s disap­ proval does not necessarily mean that she opposed suffrage (Slagell and Zaeske, 2004: 508–109). There is also evidence that Edith kept Woodrow apprised of the effort at state ratification of the amendment, stating that it was “wonderful thing” to give women a voice in making the laws. While she said as little about suffrage as she did about other issues of the time, Edith did not deny the widespread impression that she was a propo­ nent of women’s suffrage. Slagell and Zaeske argue that Edith’s behavior on the suffrage issue was consistent with her r­ hetorical strategy of refusing to grant i­nterviews and make public statements. The Nineteenth Amendment, which gives women the right to vote, was ratified on August 26, 1920, once it was passed by the thirty‐sixth state, Tennessee. Wilson held no ceremony and invited none of the women who had worked for decades to pass the legislation. Not hesitating to exercise her new right, however, Edith joined her husband in voting for the president in 1920 by sending mail‐in ballots to New Jersey, Wilson’s last state of residency. She was the first sitting first lady to vote for a presiden­ tial candidate, and this was the only time Edith was able to vote for the president.

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After her husband left office they became residents of the District of Columbia, whose residents were not permitted to vote for the president until the year she died (Hatch, 1961: 55). The war, which had done so much to highlight women’s contributions, had ended with the armistice on November 11, 1918; and Edith, her mother, and her sister Bertha rode down Pennsylvania Avenue in an open car with Woodrow. Though over­ whelmed by crowds of people, they enjoyed being out in the celebration. A month later, Edith would accompany her husband on two lengthy trips to Europe for the purpose of negotiating peace. The first trip was from December 1918 through February 1919, and the second from March through June 1919—the latter to attend the Paris Peace Conference. Edith was the first American first lady to travel to Europe during her incumbency. They sailed on the well‐ equipped George Washington, the third l­argest vessel of the German merchant fleet, captured by the United States in the war. French president Raymond Poincaré greeted the Wilsons with a 21‐gun salute, and an estimated crowd of two million p­eople cheered them on December 14 as they proceeded down the Champs Élysées to the Place de La Concorde in a flower‐ filled carriage. The Wilsons were wined, dined, and courted by European royalty. Edith’s presence in their midst put the posi­ tion of first lady in a uniquely elevated role. John Milton Cooper describes Edith’s time in Europe as the high point of her years as first lady. She had opportunities to travel, participate in extensive pageantry, and shop for a wardrobe to fill the fashion gap created by years of wartime austerity (Cooper, 2009: 462). Historian Carl Anthony criticizes Edith, however, for having delusions of grandeur due to all the attention she received in her travels (Anthony, 1990: 366). But Slagell and Zaeske’s analysis of European newspaper coverage indicates that Edith excelled at walking a fine line as a

representative of democracy in the presence of royalty (Slagell and Zaeske, 2004: 515). Despite her visibility and popularity, how­ ever, as a wife Edith was sidelined for all but the social gatherings. Still, she managed to convey to the president her concern about the tension between Colonel House and Secretary of State Lansing at the official negotiations. While the peace conference was delayed for a month for national e­ lections, the Wilsons decided to make c­eremonial visits to England and Italy. In her memoirs, Edith glowed about her encounters at Buckingham Palace and her personal friendships with the British royal family. She was awed by the magnificence of the palace while simultaneously admitting to the silliness of its ancient customs; and she was impressed by the presence there of such celebrity authors as Arthur Conan Doyle and Rudyard Kipling (Wilson, 1939b: 199). The Wilsons also visited Italian King Victor Emanuel and Queen Helena in Rome, where they received an enthusiastic welcome. Back in France, Edith visited b­ attlefields at the urging of Eleanor Roosevelt—also along with Eleanor’s husband, Navy Secretary Franklin D. Roosevelt. As the conference proceedings began, Edith continued her role as gatekeeper and advisor to Wilson, relaying information to him that Colonel House was acting against his wishes, and persuading him to appoint one of her favorites, journalist Ray Stannard Baker, as an intermediary with the press (Ross, 1975). Also at her urging, Wilson asked French Premier Georges Clemenceau to permit her to attend the president’s read­ ing of the Covenant charter of the League of Nations at the Quai D’Orsay’s gilded Hall of the Clock on February 15. She wanted to be there as Woodrow made this important speech before the vote for the peace agreement was taken, and she was smuggled through a side door where she and Dr. Grayson heard the speech. Three strokes rang out to mark the time, which Jonathan Daniels later described as



edith wilson: the first lady in charge

“Wilson’s hour, and Mrs. Wilson’s too” (Miller, 2010: 168). They returned to the United States that night, landing on February 24 in Boston, where Edith’s role abroad was praised in the Boston Globe: “To a far greater extent than is usually the case with president’s wives, Mrs. Wilson has made her personality felt outside the circle of the Washington activities” (quoted in Miller, 2010: 107). Back in the White House between their two European trips, the presidential pair hosted 34 members of the Senate on February 26, 1919. Edith was the only woman at the dinner, as the president sought to convince the gathered men of the importance of the United States’ role in the League of Nations. The first lady was reported to be beautiful and gay that e­ vening, but republican Senator Henry Cabot Lodge, already dubious about the League, was not impressed by the Wilsons and their peace plans, and even made snide comments about Edith’s dirty fingernails at the dinner (Levin, 2001: 256). Woodrow and Edith were puzzled by his criticism of the plan and correctly saw Lodge as a key opponent. Less than a week later, on the day before Republicans gained control of the Senate on March 4, Lodge offered a resolu­ tion on this point, and when it was rejected he got 39 republican Senators to sign a statement to the same effect. Fired by m­issionary zeal, Edith dangerously underes­ timated the depth and breadth of opposi­ tion to the League (Levin, 2001). Edith would not forget Lodge’s perfidy, as she saw it; nearly twenty years later she declared that she hated him (Miller, 2010: 169–170). When the two returned to Europe for their second trip in March 1919, Edith recalled Wilson’s disappointed revelation to her that Colonel House, who had been h­andling the negotiations in Europe in the meantime, had “compromised on every side, and so I have to start all over again and this time it will be harder” (Miller, 2010: 170). Edith Wilson’s memoir goes on to allege

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that, after Woodrow had met with House on that return trip, he was crying and grasped Edith’s hand to let her know that House had “given away everything” (Levin, 2010: 281). Arthur Walworth argues, h­owever, that Edith’s version of the evening could be a partial—if not a total—lie, since Edith would never have acknowledged her husband’s own failures in this process (Walworth, 1958; Levin, 2001: 283–284). Cooper writes that Edith’s account could well have been skewed by her long‐standing hatred of House and by her husband’s later attitude toward him (Cooper, 2001: 484). According to Levin (2001), Edith made Colonel House a “scapegoat”; she further accused him of placing articles in European papers that were picked up by the American press and made him look like the savior of the negotiations and Wilson the bungler. When he returned to the United States to offer his services, Edith coldly replied that she could think of nothing for him to do. She kept his letters to the president that urged compromise on the League, and they remained unopened until deposited in the Library of Congress in 1952. As Colonel House’s influence ended, Dr. Grayson’s began to expand. Wilson sickened on this second trip, struck with flu, memory loss, and depres­ sion, and Edith nursed him until he recov­ ered; she also covered some of his duties. She was present with him for the ceremony that marked the signing of the Peace Treaty on June 28, 1919 at the Hall of Mirrors at Versailles. Wilson looked at Edith when the delegates returned to their seats and exchanged a private smile at their success. As their train left for Brest, Woodrow and Edith saw the receding lights of Paris and Wilson said: “ Well, little girl, it is finished, and as no one is satisfied, it makes me hope we have made a just peace” (Miller, 2010: 176). When the president and Edith returned to Washington on July 8, 1919, he faced opposition from Congress, which was unwilling to yield the congressional

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prerogative to declare war—as it feared Article X of the League Covenant would entail. The president continued to have long and unsuccessful negotiations with congres­ sional committees over the Treaty of Versailles, as he also dealt with the difficulties of a return to peace, including economic challenges, demands for higher wages, and race riots. The President Incapacitated and the First Lady’s New Role The Senate Foreign Relations Committee was not willing to sign the treaty that Wilson had painstakingly negotiated in Europe, and so he decided to take his case on the road, despite a variety of ever‐increasing physical maladies. On September 4, 1919, the p­ resident and Edith Wilson launched a twenty‐seven‐day tour in order to generate support for the League of Nations. The plan was for the president to give 40 different addresses, starting in Ohio. Concerned for his health and the strain of the trip, Dr. Grayson and Edith begged Woodrow not to make the journey; but he would not hear of it. Edith then decided to accompany the president. Her presence was acclaimed by reporters. She and the doctor were right to worry: Woodrow Wilson would suffer a devastating stroke in October, after a speech in Pueblo, Colorado. They rushed the train back to Washington. Edith soon realized that her life and that of the president had changed forever at the point; this was a trauma from which Wilson would never fully recover. She committed herself to carrying on Wilson’s work and hiding from him (and from every­ one else) how sick he really was. She began to screen all incoming information and decide what would be brought to him, and she became the de facto president until the end of Wilson’s term in March 1921. Although Edith said she was doing the screening on the basis of doctor’s orders, it

has become clear that she was both the writer and enforcer of the orders. A. Scott Berg (2013) notes that at first Edith suggested that Vice President Thomas R. Marshall might succeed Wilson. In her memoir, however, Edith recounts how she then changed her mind about Wilson’s r­esignation because she had advice from his doctors that resigning would have a nega­ tive effect on his health. She now considered it her responsibility to keep him in office. Cooper points to the illogical premise of this policy; how could a doctor—or a spouse—state that a man should stay in office in the interest of his health but that (because of the same health) he should (and could) not conduct the actual work required of that position? (Cooper, 2009: 537). Yet Edith also insisted that during this time she never made “a single decision regarding the disposition of public affairs” (Wilson, 1939b: 289). Berg persuasively points out that here she failed to acknowledge the “commanding nature of her role, that is in determining the daily agenda and formulating arguments thereon, she executed the physical and most of the mental duties of the office.” She could act, while he could only react (Berg, 2013: 643). Dr. Grayson conspired with Edith to c­reate a protective wall around the president that allowed no one in but the two of them and the president’s daughters. A month passed during which no government offi­ cial, not even a secretary, saw the president of the United States. Nobody even shaved him (Berg, 2013: 658). They kept his c­ondition from the public, issuing only gen­ eral statements about his health; the first lady maintained that the president was merely suffering from exhaustion, which could be cured with rest (Berg, 2013: 658). Hatch blamed the failure to communicate on Edith’s—a well‐bred southern lady— aversion to publicity; she never trusted the press (Hatch, 1961: 220). This aversion, however, had seemingly not affected her during their visits to European royal shrines.



edith wilson: the first lady in charge

Moreover, while acknowledging that her decision to keep the president’s illness a secret had been a “terrible error,” Hatch (1961: 219) accepts Edith’s story that her “regency” lasted only six weeks. Robert J. Maddox (1973: 44) also agrees that Edith’s influence, if “considerable,” was limited, in his view, to “small to middling affairs with the Executive department.” Forty years later, Berg’s (2013) book tells a fuller story of her much lengthier mendacity. For months, the United States did not have a functioning president, and Miller calls Edith’s taking control “disastrous” (Miller, 2010: 218). Gregg Phifer tells us that she would meet with all callers in her sitting room and when she was unable to answer their questions she would enter the adjoining sickroom, discuss the matter, and return with a statement (Phifer, 1971). Edith describes the period when the p­resident was incapacitated as a “stewardship” in which she merely assisted the president when he asked questions, dictated notes, and gave orders (Edith Wilson, 1939b: 287–288). Yet Wilson’s stenographer Charles Swem reported that Wilson never dictated for more than five minutes after his stroke; the rest of the time he sat in silence (Weaver, 1985: 54–55). The president’s correspondence was thus written in Edith’s handwriting and style, although she tried to mask her role by doing almost everything orally. She also claimed that, when she wrote something designed to go out under his auspices, she read it to Woodrow first (Hatch, 1961: 226). Phifer refers to certain documents on which she had written her husband’s reply—between the lines, the margins, on the back and even on the enve­ lopes—in her childish scrawl, as Wilson’s biographer Gene Smith described it (Phifer, 1971: 282; Smith, 1964: 125). Sometimes she rubber‐stamped his signature, as she did with Wilson’s letter of November 19, 1919, which urged his democratic supporters in the senate to vote against the Treaty of Versailles. Senator Henry Ashurst saw this

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letter and noticed the stamp in purple ink. Senator Albert Fall (R, NM) was not alone in suspecting that the United States was being run by a “petticoat” government. Whether for this reason or others, only 38 senators approved the treaty without Lodge’s reservations (Miller, 2010: 192–193). Edith Wilson was not always a “rubber stamp,” however. She reported that in November 1919 she begged the president to accept the Senate’s reservations because she felt that the fight and the anxiety it was creating for him were eating into her soul. Wilson’s response to her was: Little girl, don’t you desert me; that I c­annot stand. Can’t you see that I have no moral right to accept any change in a paper I have signed without giving to every other signatory, even the Germans, the right to do the same thing? It is not I that will not accept; it is the Nation’s honor that is at stake. (quoted in Berg, 2013: 655)

Berg also notes Edith’s immense shame on this occasion. Perhaps because of this reaction, Edith was generally more cautious with what t­ opics she decided to trouble him about. She told Hatch: “I had talked with him so much that I knew pretty well what he thought of things” (Hatch, 1961: 226). She also decided who saw him. Edith permitted the king and queen of Belgium to be the first visitors after Wilson’s stroke, reasoning that, “while politicians and officials might prove a drain, royalty would only amuse him” (Hatch, 1961: 231). Since Edith was never interested in poli­ tics except “when it affected her personally,” there were significant national issues that Wilson never heard about and that she ignored as well (Weaver, 1985: 51). Thus the Cabinet handled the coal strike of November 1919 without interference from her. On the other hand, Edith tried to con­ vince the president that Joseph Tumulty and Robert Lansing were disloyal and should be

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fired, and that House should be removed. Mostly, rather than make policy, Edith “stood like a stone wall between the sick room and any official who claimed he must see the President” (Weaver, 1985: 55). She either refused the entreaties of Cabinet members or airily approved their decisions, depending on her whim or her understand­ ing of what Woodrow would want. Thus, when the United States came close to a war with Mexico triggered by oil drilling by Americans in that country, Secretary of State Lansing could not get the president to address this issue. Edith had long harbored hostile feelings for Lansing, who was excluded from access to the president after his stroke. She had opposed from the outset his appointment as William Jennings Bryan’s replacement, as she thought he was only a clerk and not suited for the job, though his father‐in‐law had been a secretary of state under President Benjamin Harrison. She continued to dislike him during the postwar negotiations in Paris. When Lansing accompanied the king and queen of Belgium for that visit to Wilson’s bedroom, Edith admitted the royal couple but left Lansing standing outside in the hallway. She was opposed to his decision to call a Cabinet meeting shortly after the president’s stroke—to her, this was a sign that he desired to put the president out of office. It didn’t help that he criticized the League as well. Edith’s personal animosity toward Lansing led to his dismissal in February 1920 (Weaver, 1985: 64). Edith’s pique also got in the way of Wilson’s access to alternative voices. She refused to accept a visit from British repre­ sentative Edward Grey, who had been sent to assist in obtaining congressional approval for the League of Nations, because Grey’s assistant had made a bawdy reference to Wilson and Edith’s engagement: “She was so surprised when the president proposed that she fell out of bed” (Weaver, 1985: 68). With examples like these, Weaver s­uggests that Edith played a major role in Woodrow’s

unwillingness to brook any dissent on the issue. The reservations that Senator Lodge had been requesting essentially meant that the United States would be able to decide whether and how it would engage in m­ilitary interventions as part of the League; but, even when Wilson’s trusted adviser Bernard Baruch suggested their suitability, the presi­ dent remained stubborn. Dependent as he was on Edith for information, Weaver s­uggests, he was unaware of the tremendous shift in public feeling about the Peace Treaty that had taken place in the country. His wife thus hindered his capacity to act by keeping away advisors who could have provided guidance so as to enable Wilson to better understand these political winds and over­ come his disability (Weaver, 1985: 54). For example, when Mrs. Wilson shielded the president from his secretary and confidant Joseph Tumulty, whom she considered “common,” the president did not hear Tumulty’s counsel urging compromise (Weaver, 1985: 50). Others who tried to reach him, like Jean Jules Jusserand, the French ambassador, were not happy with having to work with Edith instead of the pres­ ident. Weaver concludes that Edith’s jealousy of Wilson’s advisers, mixed with her intense and blind loyalty to her husband on the matter of the treaty, contributed to the League’s defeat. Berg agrees that Edith’s approach worked against the very League of Nations that Wilson wanted (Berg, 2013: 554). Kristie Miller addresses the charge that Edith’s desire for exclusive access deprived Wilson of advisers who might have moder­ ated his position on the fight over the League of Nations. She agrees that Edith’s distrust undermined the advisors’ efforts, but at the same time she suggests that these men had major flaws of their own. House did not understand his role in the peace p­rocess, Lansing had betrayed Wilson by his lack of support of the League, and Tumulty made errors that might have caused the president to doubt his judgment, she notes (Miller, 2010: 262).



edith wilson: the first lady in charge

Some historians have found that Wilson and his condition, rather than Edith, c­ontributed most to his political misjudg­ ments after October 1919. Alexander and Juliette George claim that the president’s personality—what they describe as an unconscious self‐destructive drive—is what hindered his judgment (George and George, 1964). Arthur Link, Edwin Weinstein, and James Anderson argue the president experi­ enced brain damage from the stroke that made him not responsible for his actions (Link, Weinstein, and Anderson, 1978). Miller found at least one more instance where Edith might actually have worked for compromise, and this did involve Tumulty. Around January 15, 1920, the secretary wrote a draft letter for Wilson to review; the letter was to be sent to Senator Gilbert Monell Hitchcock, the ranking democratic member of the Senate Foreign Relations Committee. This indicates how far the pres­ ident was prepared to go to meet Lodge’s reservations. Edith gave it to the president, as her own notes and his confirm. Yet, despite Edith’s attempts to bring about compromise, for some reason she failed— possibly because of Woodrow’s stubborn­ ness (Miller, 2010: 205–206). Indeed, instead of the compromise letter that the democratic senators were hoping for, on January 26 Wilson sent Senator Hitchcock a letter so unyielding that Edith attached a note to the senator not to publish it! Her husband’s growing bitterness had to have been apparent to her. Wilson even asked Edith to get from the postmaster gen­ eral a list of senators who hindered or did not advance the treaty—a precursor to the lists of political enemies that arose in later periods of history (Miller, 2010: 209). While debate over the nature of Edith’s influence will no doubt remain, what is clear is that, during the time when she maintained her sickly husband in power, the nation limped along without executive leadership. Attorney General A. Mitchell Palmer made decisions that resulted in the arrest and

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deportation of hundreds of dissidents. Race riots broke out in Washington, Chicago, Omaha, Mobile, and Gary, and labor strikes erupted at Bethlehem Steel and in coal mines even as former servicemen were struggling to find jobs and food prices nearly doubled. The government of Costa Rica went unrecognized and diplomatic posts remained unfilled, all evidence of a lack of leadership (Weaver, 1985: 59). Increasingly congressional Republicans began to question Wilson’s ability to g­overn, and on December 5, 1919 they sent a d­elegation to check his condition; the dele­ gation included republican Senator Albert Fall and democratic Senator Hitchcock. On what has come to be known as the visit of the “smelling committee,” Edith Wilson and Dr. Grayson carefully staged Wilson’s position and posture so that he appeared less disabled than he was (Berg, 2013: 390). The meeting went well for the Wilsons and Senator Fall gave a positive response to the press about Wilson’s condition, which was reported in the New York Times. However, other publications cast a different light on the visit and made it seem that the two men entered the room and tore away the president’s bedclothes. The incorrect stories went on to haunt Senator Fall when he was tried in the wake of the Teapot Dome Scandal, fined $100,000 and sentenced to a year in jail. Berg tells us that Edith seemed to regard Fall’s disgrace as her private revenge and she recalled with some satisfac­ tion: “This was the man Mr. Henry Cabot Lodge had delegated to pass on the mental­ ity of Woodrow Wilson” (Berg, 2013: 392). Edith, meanwhile, encouraged Wilson to seek a third term in 1920, even though he could not even walk down the corridor to his office, another example of how her love and loyalty at this stage flew in the face of reality and did Wilson little good (Levin, 2001: 448–453). Thus Edith, who had originally opposed the Nineteenth Amendment that granted women’s suffrage, ironically contributed later to another

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amendment: the twenty‐fifth, which would define presidential succession clearly, in order to prevent just such “takeovers” as she had carried through. Edith Wilson after Wilson’s Presidency Warren G. Harding was elected president in 1920, and four months later, on March 4, 1921, he and the former president rode together to the inauguration at the US Capitol in an open car. Edith felt that her husband had been slighted, though, when Harding abandoned him in his wheelchair at the steps of the Capitol instead of escort­ ing Wilson to the elevator. Edith later wrote about the incident and about her and Woodrow’s contrasting reactions to it: Where I was bitter, he was tolerant; where I resented, he was amused; and by the time we reached the corner of Massachusetts Avenue … we were both happy and felt a great burden had been lifted from our shoulders and that we could return to our own affairs in a home of peace and serenity. (Wilson, 1939: 519)

A week after the inauguration, Edith and Woodrow drove by the White House and were amazed to see that all the gates and grounds were flung open and hundreds of people were milling around on the lawn. The character of the Harding White House was in sharp contrast to the loneliness and lockdown of the place during the last nine­ teen months of the Wilson administration. Woodrow and Edith had purchased a house on S street in Washington and they lived there until they died—Woodrow in 1924 and Edith in 1961. Woodrow kept partly busy during his last years by dictating to Edith, for example his essay “The Road Away from Revolution.” She sent it for review to George Creel, an old friend and a former administration official, but Creel considered it so poor that he feared its

publication would embarrass the former president. This news was highly upsetting to both Wilsons. Eventually the essay was edited and published in The Atlantic in August 1923. Edith spent most of her time caring for Woodrow, but in 1922 she began to take part in public appearances, including among women’s groups. In April 1923 she attended a dinner for Sir Robert Cecil, a British d­ iplomat. When it was announced that Wilson was listening to the event at home on his radio, the audience gave him a stand­ ing ovation. When Wilson died from cardiovascular disease and digestive complications on February 3, 1924, Edith arranged for two burial services for her husband—one for two hundred friends, at her home, and a larger public ceremony at the Washington National Cathedral. Both ceremonies were simple and without fanfare. Edith stayed upstairs while the service was held on S Street, and attended the cathedral service completely shrouded in black. House, Wilson’s former advisor, was not invited at all, and his secretary Tumulty was only included at the last minute, when Wilson’s son in law, William McAdoo, realized that he had been overlooked. When Edith learned that Wilson’s opponent Henry Cabot Lodge was designated by the Senate to attend the funeral, she wrote to him and asked him not to come. He responded to her politely and stayed away, feigning illness. Wilson was buried in the Washington National Cathedral rather than in the Arlington Cemetery, as both Wilsons, southerners to the end, had believed that the United States government had unfairly seized that property from Robert E. Lee f­ollowing the Civil War (Miller, 2010: 241). After his death, Edith devoted the rest of her life to managing Wilson’s legacy. She had the literary rights to all of her husband’s papers and would publish her own autobi­ ography, My Memoir, in 1938. As noted above, she left their love letters to be edited



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and published after her death (Miller, 2010: 254–255). Edith first began writing My Memoir in response to Colonel House’s book Intimate Papers (published in 1928). She read House’s book on a train trip and was so angry that she started writing furi­ ously her version of the story then and there. After being somewhat toned down, the manuscript was completed ten years later, in 1938, and its first installment was published in the Saturday Evening Post just as the events in Europe were escalating toward World War II. Slagell and Zaeske (2004) argue that, by publishing it when she did, she also sought to defend her husband against growing vilification about the United States’ entry into World War I; in 1937, after hearings in Congress against arms merchants’ profiting in the previous war, 71 percent of Americans believed it was a mistake to have joined the fight (Slagell and Zaeske, 2004: 122). Not surprisingly, the book glorified her husband and mostly denigrated those who opposed him in any way. Some reviewers called it a devastating self‐portrait, while others described it as a “Cinderella tale” of Edith’s meteoric rise from growing up in relative obscurity to being one of the best known women in the world. The memoir, which made it to eighth place on the bestseller list, provides an i­ntimate journey through the couple’s life together, but it also shows Edith’s u­nashamed voicing of racial stereotypes and personal attacks and reveals her as a “public figure who often lacked reflection or histori­ cal insight” (Slagell and Zaeske, 2004: 121). As a widow for the next four decades, Edith continued to do much of what she had done as first lady: promoting the Red Cross, for example, and attending social events. She negotiated with Ray Stannard Baker and William E. Dodd to edit six v­olumes of Wilson’s public papers under a contract with Harper & Row, and she main­ tained control over his private papers. Edith would deny even old friends the permission to quote President Wilson. Instead she

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again appointed Baker, this time as Wilson’s official biographer, and between 1927 and 1939 he published an eight‐volume biogra­ phy for which he was awarded the Pulitzer Prize (Baker, 1946). Starting in the 1930s, Edith began donating Wilson’s papers to the Library of Congress. At first she had resisted the approaches of the Woodrow Wilson Birthplace Association in Staunton, Virginia, which sought to preserve the Manse, where Wilson was born while his father served as the Presbyterian minister. She ultimately became involved in this pro­ ject, however—the Woodrow Wilson Library and Museum—and helped restore and decorate the site’s Victorian garden. As these activities show, Edith Wilson played a critical role in promoting her husband’s l­egacy and in presenting it to the American public, and she assumed an ongoing public role as a former first lady throughout her life (Levin, 2001: 497–511). Nevertheless, Edith continued to regu­ larly reject, or demur from, opportunities to speak. When she did address public events, she was always gracious and brief, but almost inaudible. She was careful to keep herself distant from activities that she felt detracted from the memory of her husband. Thus she resigned as honorary president of the Women’s Democratic Club to protest its fundraising practices, although she remained an active Democrat. She also attended the party’s convention of 1928, gave a speech, and endorsed the party’s candidate, Al Smith. She was even mentioned as a poten­ tial vice presidential candidate by the Washington Post; she had no interest in r­ unning for office, though (Levin, 2001: 497). She also refused Eleanor Roosevelt’s request that she speak on the radio to s­ upport the party in 1928 (Slagell and Zaeske, 2004: 119). Edith’s long friendship with Eleanor and Franklin Delano Roosevelt went back to her days as first lady during World War I; and in 1933 she took a seat with the wives of Supreme Court justices and other high‐ranking officials

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at Roosevelt’s inauguration. A supporter of the New Deal, she also sat next to Eleanor when Franklin Roosevelt delivered the 1941 Declaration of War to Congress. Eleanor Roosevelt mentioned in her syndicated c­ olumn that she remembered Edith Wilson sitting in the gallery in 1917, when Wilson asked Congress to declare war (Miller, 2010: 255). Edith signed up again to knit and sew for the Red Cross, serving on its national advisory committee; she was also in the official party at Franklin Roosevelt’s fourth inauguration. In 1941 Edith looked over the script for the making of a movie on her husband, Wilson, which was Twentieth Century Fox’s most ambitious film up to that date—it ran three hours and cost $3 million. The film was nominated for an Academy Award but was not a commercial success. Nevertheless the studio offered Edith $50,000, which she donated to Wilson’s Staunton birth­ place memorial (Levin, 2001: 509–510). In 1956 she participated in the Woodrow Wilson Centennial Events, marking the hundredth anniversary of his birth on December 28, when his casket was moved to a bay in the main part of the National Cathedral. Although she had been friendly with the Eisenhowers, in 1960 Edith pledged sup­ port to John F. Kennedy’s presidential can­ didacy, and went so far as to avoid the annual board meeting of the Wilson birthplace when she learned that President Eisenhower would be there (Levin, 2001). She attended Kennedy’s inauguration as an honored guest on a cold and snowy January 20, 1961; she kept warm with a flask of bour­ bon. On October 4 the White House invited her to a ceremony announcing the Woodrow Wilson Memorial Commission and the Woodrow Wilson International Center for Scholarship, a nonpartisan institute for advanced studies in history (Hatch, 1961: 275). A month later, President Kennedy appointed her trustee to the global Freedom from Hunger campaign. Edith was also asked to attend the opening of the Woodrow Wilson

Memorial Bridge, spanning the Potomac River to connect Washington, DC to Maryland and Virginia on what would have been Woodrow Wilson’s hundred‐and‐fifth birthday, December 28, 1961. As fate would have it, she died that day. Edith was felled by heart disease at the age of eighty‐nine, in the same house and in the same room where Wilson had died thirty‐seven years before. Her funeral was held at the Washington National Cathedral— to date, the only funeral of a first lady ever held there. She was buried at the cathedral, with her husband. President Wilson was the only president who lived in Washington, DC after his presidency and remains the only one to be buried in the city. Today the Wilsons’ home in S Street is administered by the National Trust for Historic Preservation and open to the public. Woodrow Wilson was not the most pop­ ular president when he left office—or for the decades to follow. He was criticized for his failures related to the League of Nations and for his unwillingness to provide for a transition of power. When Edith died in 1961, Wilson’s reputation was, however, on the upswing. This can be attributed in part to her tireless efforts to rehabilitate his image—the donation and organization of his papers, her memoirs, her facilitation of the work of sympathetic biographers and moviemakers, and her support for organiza­ tions affiliated with his name and promot­ ing international peace and understanding (Miller, 2010: 263). Conclusion Edith Wilson appears to be a most unusual subject for a first lady. More than perhaps any other woman, she chose to be the wife of a president, as she married Woodrow Wilson when he was already in office and when they were both mature adults with an understanding of the world. The other women who married sitting presidents



edith wilson: the first lady in charge

were considerably younger and lived in a culture not marked by the aggressive explosion of the media in the twentieth century. Edith took the role of first lady and shaped it to become an assistant to the president; she devoted her life to enabling President Wilson to carry out his goals. She was his lover, friend, and caretaker in the five years during which she served as first lady and in the eight years of being his wife. She c­ommitted her remaining four decades to championing his reputation to the world. But, above all, Edith Wilson was a critical force in the life of President Wilson, and her struggles to maintain him in power during his presidency and to promote his legacy afterward underline some important ways in which her role as first lady both predicted the work of later first ladies and set a p­recedent that few wanted to repeat. Edith’s longevity made her an ongoing presence; she served as an advisor, friend, and s­upporter for many of the American presi­ dents and first ladies after her, including Eleanor Roosevelt, with whom she had a special relationship, and John Kennedy, whose election she supported. From the beginning, Edith understood that her mar­ riage would mean public responsibility. While Eleanor Roosevelt and Hillary Clinton are clearly exceptional in the level of activity and prominence they sustained after leaving the White House, Edith’s model of promotion of her husband’s legacy has been replicated by other first ladies, Jacqueline Kennedy and Nancy Reagan among them. Kristie Miller (2010) discusses the con­ trast between Wilson’s first wife Ellen and Edith, and how both left a different kind of example for subsequent first ladies. Ellen Wilson used her position not only to p­romote her husband but also to advance a specific social and political agenda. She led people down to the slums of Washington and urged them to tear these decrepit build­ ings down and build decent housing. Ellen popularized concern for the poor and

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s­upported this effort with money she earned with her paintings. This agenda continued to evolve and expand through some of the most successful first ladies to follow, most especially Eleanor Roosevelt; but White House women from Florence Harding to Rosalynn Carter to Laura Bush to Michelle Obama have also upheld causes of their own. Edith Wilson’s role was different. She had enormous influence; but, rather than use it to right a social wrong (if anything, for example, she encouraged her husband’s racism), she marshaled it to protect her hus­ band—warming up Woodrow’s stern public persona, much as Grace Coolidge later did for Calvin, and providing a role model for women during the war years. Her main “cause,” of course, was Woodrow (Miller, 2010: 264–276). In this respect she may be compared to first ladies closer to our times, like Nancy Reagan. Edith Wilson left us one of the longest and least guarded first ladies’ autobiogra­ phies, with extensive discussion of her life up to her time in the White House, her t­enure as the first lady, and her life after­ wards. She also played a critical role in shap­ ing the histories written about her husband’s presidency, influencing both authors and the sources they used. She agreed to having her most personal love letters published after her death, hoping to shape the public’s memory of her husband and of their affec­ tion for each other. As this chapter has shown, Edith has left behind documenta­ tion that has enabled her life and her place in history to be continually debated, reex­ amined, and rewritten—and scholarship has shown that, while she clearly overstepped her role, she was no caricature. Her desires and fears for her husband were all too human; and her modeling of later first lady activities—from consulting with presidents to building a historic legacy that is manifest in archives and in historical sites devoted to the Wilson presidency and to their own r­ elationship—are significant and deserve closer attention.

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References Anthony, C. S. 1990. First Ladies: The Saga of the Presidents’ Wives and Their Power, 1789–1961, vol. 1. New York: William Marrow. Baker, R. S. 1946. Woodrow Wilson, Life and Letters, Potomac edn., 8 vols. New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons. Berg, A. S. 2013. Wilson. New York: G. P. Putnam’s Sons. Cooper, J. M., Jr. 2011. Woodrow Wilson: A Biography. New York: Vintage Books. George, A. L., and J. L. George. 1964. Woodrow Wilson and Colonel House: A Personality Study. New York: Dover. Hatch, A. 1961. Edith Bolling Wilson: First Lady Extraordinary. New York: Dodd, Mead. Levin, P. L. 2001. Edith and Woodrow: The Wilson White House. New York: Scribner. Link, A. S., E. A. Weinstein, and J. W. Anderson. 1978. “Woodrow Wilson’s Political Personality: A Reappraisal.” Political Science Quarterly 93: 585–599. Lunardini, C. A., and T. J. Knock. 1980–1981. “Woodrow Wilson and Woman Suffrage: A New Look.” The Political Science Quarterly 95 (4): 655–671. Maddox, R. J. 1973. “Mrs. Wilson and the Presidency.” American History Illustrated, February 7: 36–44. Miller, K. 2010. Ellen and Edith: Woodrow Wilson’s First Ladies. Lawrence Kansas: University Press of Kansas. Phifer, G. 1971. “Edith Bolling Wilson: Gatekeeper Extraordinary.” Speech Monographs 38 (4): 278–289. Ross, I. 1975. Power with Grace: The Life of Mrs. Woodrow Wilson. New York: G. P. Putnam’s Sons.

Shachtman, T. 1981. Edith and Woodrow: A Presidential Romance. New York: G. P. Putnam’s Sons. Sibley, K. A. S. 2009. First Lady Florence Harding: Beyond the Tragedy and Controversy. Lawrence: University Press of Kansas. Slagell, A. R., and S. Zaeske. 2004. “Edith Boling Galt Wilson: Actions Speak Louder Than Words.” In Inventing a Voice: The Rhetoric of American First Ladies of the Twentieth Century, edited by M. M. Wertheimer, 103–124. Lanham, MD: Rowan & Littlefield. Smith, G. 1964. When the Cheering Stopped: The Last Years of Woodrow Wilson. New York: William Morrow. Tribble, E., ed. 1981. A President in Love: The Courtship Letters of Woodrow Wilson and Edith Boling Galt. Boston: Houghton Mifflin. Walworth, A. 1958. Woodrow Wilson: American Prophet. New York: Longman’s. Weaver, J. L. 1985. “Edith Boling Wilson as First Lady: A Study in the Power of Personality, 1919–1920.” Presidential Studies Quarterly 15 (1): 51–76. Wilson, E. B. 1939a. “As I Saw It: A While Light for Wilson.” Saturday Evening Post, January 7: 16–45. Wilson, E. B. 1939b. My Memoir. New York: Bobbs‐Merrill.

Further Reading Black, A. 2001.“The Modern First Lady and Public Policy: From Edith Wilson through Hillary Rodman Clinton.” OAH Magazine of History 15 (3): 15–20.

Chapter Twenty Two

Florence Kling Harding: Celebrity and Activist Katherine A. S. Sibley

Although Eleanor Roosevelt has been cred­ ited with having “shattered the ceremonial mold in which the role of the first lady had traditionally been fashioned,” the first cracks in that mold were made by an earlier occu­ pant of that office, Florence Kling Harding (Goodwin, 1995: 10). Eleanor’s influence is well known; Florence’s, however, has been largely neglected, if not scorned. Yet she took a pioneering role in Harding’s cam­ paign and in his presidency, as contemporar­ ies recognized: “She shares his life in a fuller, deeper, and wider measure than do the wives of most public men” (Time Magazine, March 17, 1923).1 Her political instincts and her empathy with average Americans, especially veterans and the underprivileged, her interest in women’s new roles in politics, and her understanding of the importance of cultivating her own position as a celebrity figure all informed her vision of her post. A survivor of tragedy and chronic illness in her own life, she saw an opportunity in the White House for both outreach and activism. Yet her current position in the rankings of first ladies—fourth from the bottom in

the 2014 Sienna College poll—belies this fully dimensioned woman and her influence (see Sienna College Research Institute/ CSPAN, 2014). Her husband’s poor repu­ tation, also largely undeserved, has undoubtedly c­ ontributed to this ranking. The media, meanwhile, have played up their version of scandalous elements in the Hardings’ m­arriage to the current day. In July 2014 her husband’s love letters to his mistress, Carrie Phillips—originally found in 1964 and sealed for fifty years—were released at the Library of Congress. Portrayals of the Hardings’ marriage focused once again on the salacious, and the New York Times of July 7, 2014 com­ pletely ignored Florence’s contributions except in her act of burning her own cor­ respondence, as “legend has it” (Smith, 2014). And, even as this book goes to press, associations of scandal with the Hardings are once more in the public eye: recent DNA tests show that Warren G. Harding had a “love child” with a young friend, Nan Britton, in 1919 (NPR, 2015). In the extensive coverage of this story as well, his

*NOTE This chapter, sections of which are an abridgment of my book, First Lady Florence Harding: Behind the Tragedy and Controversy (University Press of Kansas, 2009), is included in this volume with the permission of the full biography’s publisher. A Companion to First Ladies, First Edition. Edited by Katherine A. S. Sibley. © 2016 John Wiley & Sons, Inc. Published 2016 by John Wiley & Sons, Inc.

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wife’s role in his life and administration has scarcely been mentioned. “Legend,” indeed, has long shrouded a more accurate picture of Florence Harding. Despite the immense popularity of Mrs. Harding’s husband and herself when in office, events shortly after their deaths changed the reputation of their administration dramatically and affected her legacy for decades. Allegations—and, later, convictions— in the case of Interior Secretary Albert Fall’s oil leases at Wyoming’s Teapot Dome were damning; so, too, were shady dealings in Attorney General Harry Daugherty’s justice department, with its toleration of bribery, kickbacks, and other corrupt practices in the regulation of the liquor trade. The Hardings soon were transformed into cartoons. While little evidence exists that they had any aware­ ness of Fall’s or Daugherty’s misdeeds, this was a muckraking era, and their friends’ malfeasance left lasting stains upon them both. Florence’s bonfire of her husband’s papers (if only of a fraction of them) and the closeting of the remaining ones by Harding family members and friends for close to one hundred years have only contributed to more suspicions about the couple. This consistently negative perspective has made it difficult to see how path‐breaking a first lady Florence Harding was. As I have noted elsewhere (Sibley, 2009), owing to her example, aspiring presidential wives are routinely expected to campaign with their husbands and to be visible and accessible as role models—as well as to cultivate a celeb­ rity image, through the use of the news media and photo ops as well as through association with celebrity friends. Almost a century later, First Lady Michelle Obama, in her use of popular culture as a vehicle to sell her messages, in her presentation as a role model, and in her association with cele­ brities, has demonstrated some of the long‐ lasting legacies that Florence set. Also following Florence’s example, first ladies in office, with a few notable exceptions, consistently adopt worthwhile causes that they publicize. Through such causes these

White House women have become increasingly important in their contributions to their husbands’ careers and legacies, as we see in the case of Lady Bird Johnson, Rosalynn Carter, and Nancy Reagan—not to mention Barbara Bush, Hillary Clinton, Laura Bush, and Michelle Obama. While earlier first ladies, like Ellen Wilson and Helen Taft, had a progressive outlook and embraced causes too, Florence Harding had the opportunity to be far more visibly active and outspoken about hers, despite her illness in office. In part she benefited from the outcome of the suffrage movement, when “new issues, p­ articularly those affecting women and c­ hildren, were injected into the political arena” (Keyssar, 2000: 176). The 1920s were an auspicious time for female activism. Florence could be more outspoken because it was expected of her to be so; she could exploit new avenues of political access, and so she did. She was the first first lady to vote for her husband’s presidency, and her visible role in the campaign brought a majority of women to vote for him as well (Sibley, 2009). Despite the brevity of her span in the White House, Florence served as “a bridge between the traditional, domestic, woman’s sphere and a more open, public, and equal arena for women,” as Ann E. Burnette (2004: 125) writes. In order to illuminate the fuller canvas of Florence Kling Harding’s role as first lady, this chapter will first pro­ vide a biographical sketch and then explore how she has been portrayed by historians and by the media over the last ninety years. As will be seen, her contributions, as well as her current status in scholarship, suggest that there are still any number of interesting paths to pursue in order to better capture this pioneering and controversial first lady. Early Years through the Presidential Campaign Born on the eve of the Civil War, on August 15, 1860, Florence Mabel Kling grew up in a period of contradictory expectations. The



florence kling harding: celebrity and activist

Victorian age ushered in an era of activism for women, despite its emphasis on a culture of female domesticity and purity. Florence faced contrasting expectations even in her own family. Her father, Amos, a successful dry goods salesman in Marion, Ohio, had hoped that his eldest would be a boy; despite the presence of two younger brothers, Florence became his companion. Tall and slim, with arresting gray–blue eyes, she was an expert horseback rider and a lover of all animals, especially dogs. Florence’s mother, Louisa, was a warm and kindly presence in her children’s lives; but it was through Amos and through the work she did in his store that Florence learned about business and developed both the drive and the capacity to be successful in that world. Amos also saw to it that she received a good education in music and the classics. Yet, after Florence had studied piano just for a year at the Cincinnati Conservatory of Music, he found her increasing independ­ ence troubling and called her home. Back in Marion, Florence defied his dis­ cipline by staying out late with young men, often at skating rinks. Soon she grew close to her neighbor, Henry “Pete” DeWolfe, despite their fathers’ mutual antagonism. She and Henry eloped in 1880, but it is not clear whether there was ever an actual wedding. Their son Marshall Eugene was born just six months later; Florence was barely twenty. She soon knew that her m­ arriage had been a mistake. Pete tried some ill‐fated business ventures, while Florence taught piano to help pay the bills. But her husband was a drunk, had no inter­ est in supporting her or their young son, and soon abandoned them. When she divorced Pete in May 1886 (apparently the court accepted her claim that they were married), she charged him with gross neglect of duty, took back her maiden name, and offered him visiting rights to Marshall. It is doubtful that he ever saw the boy. Of course, the entire DeWolfe affair infuriated Amos, who demanded that she turn Marshall over to him. Florence

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resented her own need to rely on her father (Florence Kling Harding Diary, First Ladies Library [henceforth FLL]).2 She continued to teach piano in order to make a living, and it may have been during one of her lessons to Warren G. Harding’s sister Charity in the Hardings’ parlor that she met her future husband. Or perhaps it was at the skating rink. In either case, Amos Kling was appalled once again at her taste in men. Although Warren’s father, George, was a well‐loved country doctor, Warren himself, an aspiring newspaper publisher, was consid­ ered unlikely to succeed. But Florence had high hopes for the role she could play in building Warren up—and herself too in the process. They became a “husky, lusty, a­mbitious pair” (White, 1928: 391–392). Despite Amos’s complaints, the couple wed on July 8, 1891 at the house they had built on Mt. Vernon Avenue in Marion. Harding’s newspaper, the Marion Star, would provide an important outlet for Florence’s business talents. Marriage did not lessen her independence either; she never wore her wedding ring, and she con­ tinued to use “Kling” as her middle name. The paper flourished regardless of Amos’s doubts, owing much of its success to Florence, as she built up its receipts by nur­ turing its circulation and advertising base. As Joseph DeBarthe (1928: 107) noted: “It was her toil and ceaseless, uncomplaining efforts that finally lifted the paper from mediocrity to a firm and successful business basis.” She also recruited young boys to deliver the paper and to collect money from their customers, then a novel idea. As Warren’s ambitions widened beyond Marion under Florence’s encouragement, she joined him in his political campaigns, which began with his successful race for the position of state senator in 1898—the same year he met his principal promoter, attorney Harry Daugherty. Warren served as state senator for two terms before being elected lieutenant governor on November 3, 1902, and Florence regularly accompanied him to the capital, Columbus.

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Her participation later on in the presi­ dential campaign and in the White House drew on this earlier experience as a partner in her husband’s profession and political career. Warren frequently and gratefully acknowledged her contributions and she supported and remained closely involved in his work, influencing his efforts while p­ursuing her own. This could be a frustration for her, given the limits on women’s political aspirations at the time. Indeed, as her friend Evalyn wrote, “hers was the ambition, what he had was charm … a love of jovial com­ panions. He was at heart a small‐town Elk” (see the manuscript for McLean, Father Struck It Rich, p. 302, McLean Papers, Box  99, Library of Congress [henceforth LC]). The ambition he did have was “inspired” by Florence, who “electrified all his undertakings,” another friend agreed (Kathleen Lawler 1: 1–2, FLL). For a time, their marriage was a largely happy one, and seemed to fit the compan­ ionate ideal (Anthony, 1998: 55; Mintz and Kellogg, 1988). Florence was then in her prime child‐bearing years, but after Marshall she never had another child; Warren was long thought to be infertile, perhaps from mumps (DeBarthe, 1928). A century later, new evidence has cast doubt on that theory. Without children of their own, the Hardings had looked forward to being grandparents upon Marshall’s marriage in 1907, and indeed he and his wife Esther Neely would have two children. Unfortunately Florence’s son struggled in life and, like his father, also hit the bottle. Warren, who tried to help the young man financially, complained of “my good for nothing drunken stepson” (Anthony, 1998: 91). More bad luck came when Marshall was diagnosed with tuberculosis not long into his marriage. By that time his mother had experienced her own life‐threatening illness. She fell ill with her first bout of kidney disease, then known as nephritis, in 1905; it would affect Florence with periodic and often violent

intensity for the rest of her life. She went for her care to Dr. Charles Sawyer, who became the family’s lifelong doctor and a close f­ amily friend. While she was recovering, another vexation began; her husband found solace in his first extramarital relationship, with Carrie Phillips, an attractive former schoolteacher whose husband, Jim, was also conveniently ill. The Phillipses and the Hardings had been friends and continued to take trips together for some years, despite Florence’s becoming aware of the affair. As noted above, Warren and Carrie’s r­elationship is well documented in dozens of love letters and poems Harding wrote to her. The letters reveal a romantic man, unin­ hibited and florid; he referred frequently to Carrie’s lips, thighs, and other intimate parts, using pet names for his own anatomy. Warren was smitten with Carrie, drawn both to her blonde good looks and to her cosmo­ politan aspirations for a life outside Marion. Despite breaks later on, when she lived in Germany and Harding was in Washington, the affair lasted for fifteen years. Here is one typical letter from September 5, 1913: I hurt with … insatiate longing, until I feel that there will never be any relief until I take a long, deep, wild draught on your lips and then bury my face on your pillowing breasts. Oh, Carrie! I want the solace you only can give. It is awful to hunger so and be so wholly denied. (The Francis Russell Papers, American Heritage Center [AHC])

At her darkest moments, Florence felt that Warren had exploited her: “Love, to a man[,] is a sensation only never a complete giving of himself to one forever … a man has one conscience, one code, before m­arriage; another after.” In a more forgiving mood, she could write in her diary that “vice often comes in at the door of neces­ sity[,] not at the door of inclination.” But she saw the wider context: it was still a “man’s world,” which forced women to “mute acceptance of disloyalty, faithlessness,



florence kling harding: celebrity and activist

and humiliation” (Florence Kling Harding Diary, FLL). Florence was willing to end things with Warren—she had left a problematic spouse before. But he resisted, knowing how vital she was to his working and political life. Uneasily, she made her peace with the situa­ tion, seeing that her happiness could come by being “philosophical enough to make the best of what [one] has got” (Florence Kling Harding Diary, FLL). She did, and in 1910 urged him to run for governor of Ohio. Despite a loss, that election gave him national prominence, and he began to give speeches on behalf of President William Howard Taft. He and Florence were invited to the Taft twenty‐fifth wedding anniversary extravaganza at the White House in 1911, and in 1912 Warren put the president’s name in for nomination for reelection at the Republican Convention in Chicago. Taft was not returned to office, but that did not stop Florence from seeing once again even bigger possibilities for her hus­ band, as did Daugherty, when an open US Senate seat came up for 1914. Meanwhile she suffered another serious nephritis attack in the winter of 1913. Recovering, in the following summer she would assist her h­usband in Ohio’s first popular race for US senator, a victory unfortunately tainted by Harding’s exploitation of anti‐Catholic s­entiment (Downes, 1970). In the wake of this victory, less than two months later, t­ ragedy struck when Marshall died. After helping to sort her son’s affairs, Florence h­erself would soon sicken again in her new home in the capital. The Senate wives came to call on her, though, as etiquette required, so that she was not lonely as she convalesced. One of the women she befriended in this period was Evalyn Walsh McLean, whose husband was newspaper heir Edward Beale McLean. The two met through Ohio Congressman Nicholas Longworth and his wife, Alice Roosevelt Longworth. Political connections compelled Mrs. Longworth to host the Hardings regularly, often for poker,

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despite her disdain for them (Longworth, 1933). But Evalyn and Florence developed a close friendship despite the age difference between them; Evalyn was then twenty‐ nine, with two young children, and Florence, a fifty‐five‐year‐old grandmother. In the f­ollowing years and well into the presidency, the Hardings spent many happy hours with the McLeans at their various homes, from Washington to Florida. Meanwhile, the start of World War I meant that Carrie was back from a long visit to Germany, and her relationship with Harding resumed. But before long—“like a juggler,” as Francis Russell writes—Harding was pursuing Nan Britton, too (Russell, 1968: 293). Nan had known the Hardings from Marion and seems to have developed a crush on Warren when she was fourteen; he, well into middle age. As Britton’s (1927) confessional claims, the affair wasn’t limited to Harding’s senatorial years; he continued to hold passionate embraces with her in a closet off the Oval Office and was the father of her daughter, Elizabeth Ann, born in 1919. Scholars have long debated this story. Along with Russell, supporters of Britton’s claims include Adams (1964), Anthony (1998), and Burnette (2004); the Harding family’s willingness to pay Nan to keep quiet during the 1920s certainly lent credence to her story (Britton, 1927). On the other hand, Ferrell (1996), Dean (2004), and Sibley (2009) found Britton unconvincing, given the absence of letters between her and Harding as well as his childlessness with Florence. But in August 2015 a new report s­urfaced on the connections between Harding and Nan Britton. AncestryDNA, a genetic t­ esting firm, asserted that there is now “absolute scientific proof” that James Blaesing, Nan Britton’s sixty‐seven‐year‐old grandson, is related as a second cousin to Peter and Abigail Harding, Warren’s grand­ nephew and grandniece (Ancestry, 2015). Numerous press accounts of this story, from the New York Times to National Public

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Radio (NPR), portrayed the findings as definitive, as have scholars in the New York Times and the Washington Post (NPR, 2015; Radosh and Radosh, forthcoming; Robenalt, 2015; Baker, 2015). However, no scientific data, either from Ancestry.com or from any other organization, have yet been published. As the centuries‐long debate over Thomas Jefferson’s relationship with the enslaved Sally Hemings would sug­ gest, such cases are contentious even when the results (in that instance, establishing Jefferson’s paternity regarding at least one of Hemings’s children) are published in rep­ utable scientific journals like Science (Foster et al., 1998; Thomas Jefferson Memorial Foundation, 2000; Gordon‐Reed, 1997; Smith and Wade, 1998). Regardless of this  lack of published confirmation from the  ­scientific community, news sources on Harding’s genetics have widely quoted Ancestry.com’s “99.9% certainty” without qualification (Daily Mail Online, 2015). While keeping such concerns in mind, this author has been persuaded that the new evidence lends greater credibility to Nan’s story. Certainly in 1919 moments shared with the twenty‐three‐year‐old would have been a particularly welcome diversion for the senator. Harding’s position was in jeopardy in Ohio, where state political leaders were considering a challenge against him; in consequence, both Harry Daugherty and Florence were compelled to persuade a reluctant Warren to leave the Senate and run for presidency, if only to save his political life (Kathleen Lawler, 8: 10–11, FLL). But the presidential race, too, made Warren a target; Carrie Phillips was soon blackmailing him to divorce Florence and party backers had to pay her to the tune of $25,000 in order to persuade her to leave the campaign (Morello, 2001; Russell, 1968). While the Phillipses were dispatched on a cruise to the Orient, back in Marion an unflappable Florence threw herself into her husband’s national campaign. The Harding front porch would be the epicenter of

republican electioneering in 1920; and this home‐style approach, emulating the efforts of former president William McKinley in both its location and its media coverage, would become wildly popular. The crowds were exhausting, but exhilarating too, and set a pattern for the Hardings’ very public, high‐contact approach to the presidency. That summer of 1920, Florence recalled, was “one of the greatest epochs of all my life.” As she told a friend, “[n]othing on earth can ever approach, and nothing ever take away this glorious experience, regard­ less of what the future holds for us” (Florence Kling Harding to Mrs. Upton, Oct 31, 1920, Florence Kling Harding Papers, Ohio Historical Society [henceforth OHS]). Her vision of the future had been clouded by recent visits to an astrologer, Madame Marcia, who predicted that Warren would not survive office (Denver Post, August 12, 1920). The crowds came all summer, close to half a million, all told—Union veterans, women’s groups, African American organi­ zations, and Indian chiefs among them. Celebrities, too, including Al Jolson, Mary Pickford, Lillian Russell, Ethyl Barrymore, and Lillian Gish, joined the Harding– Coolidge Theatrical League and campaigned for the president. On August 24, 70 members of the League arrived by train in Marion and walked to the porch, where Jolson sang. The Hardings capitalized on their ties to the glamorous movie industry. They understood and exploited the power of these celebrity associations, which offered numerous photo opportunities to market the candidate, as did the efforts of effective advertising on Harding’s behalf (Morello, 2001: 54–55; Gould, 2003). As Richard Frederick notes, “the 1920 election became the first in which a presidential candidate was packaged and sold as a product by the man who became famous for promoting Van Camp’s pork and beans”: Albert Lasker (Frederick, 2014: 106). As the republican candidate, Harding would also be helped by



florence kling harding: celebrity and activist

popular antipathy to the League of Nations and by a growing distaste for progressive ideas (McCoy, 1971). But Progressivism hardly disappeared in the 1920s (Fox, 2014), and one of its lega­ cies was women’s suffrage. Florence was keen to cultivate women’s new voting clout. As she affirmed, “I am always anxious to know what the women are thinking and the President is ever eager to be responsive to their wishes” (quoted in Sibley, 2009). The campaign, meanwhile, had its challenges, including allegations of Harding’s multi­ racial ancestry of “black blood” (Chancellor, 1922). Given Warren’s background in an abolitionist stronghold in Ohio, his r­elatively progressive views on race relations, and the campaign’s solicitation of Mary Church Terrell to encourage black women’s partici­ pation, his opponents found many strands from which to make their case (Sherman, 1973). Harding, to his credit, refused to respond, and privately noted that it could all be true; who knew? (Now, apparently we do know: the same DNA tests that identified Harding’s newly discovered grandson showed no genetic traces of sub‐Saharan African ancestry.) Florence, angry at these tactics, nevertheless retained her confidence. “We are going to win—and BIG!” (Florence Kling Harding to Evalyn, October 23 and 31, 1920 = Florence Kling Harding Papers, OHS). Harding did exactly that, with a landslide victory; 16.1 million votes to 9.1 million for Cox, with 404 electoral votes to Cox’s 127. Florence’s role in the outcome was widely recognized (New York Times, November 14, 1920). As the country was then in a sharp e­conomic downturn after the war, inaugural excess was out of the question—balls were out, and gowns with court train too. Mrs. Harding decided to take Evalyn with her to New York “to work out the dress problem” (Florence Kling Harding to Mrs. Coolidge, January 12, 1921 = Florence Kling Harding Papers, OHS). She refused to divulge her inaugural garb ahead of time, but assured

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journalists that it would be American made. Despite this need for restraint, designers besieged her rooms at the Ritz Carlton, showering her with samples of chiffon and satin in shades of navy and lavender—known as her favorite colors. “Harding blue,” h­ owever, became her signature hue. The press would continue to pay close attention to her clothes throughout her time in office. These garments were not cheap. She might spend $150 on a gown (over $2,000 today). Of course, earlier first ladies, like Mary Lincoln, had also spent much on clothes from New York designers, to their husbands’ embarrassment. But times had changed. The rise of mass marketing and advertising had created a new interest in fashion, and the expansion of movies fueled this trend; Florence’s gowns were not considered inappropriate (Louvish, 2007). They would be a positive part of her image. First Lady Given the celebrity‐focused times, Florence’s first act as first lady was appropriately photo­ genic, and it was greeted with jubilation. Remembering being chased away from the grounds in the previous administration, she determined to open the White House and its environs after the long months of Wilson’s confinement and removed the sheep that had been gamboling on its lawn for wool production and as a war measure (Sibley, 2009). In line with Florence’s love of flowers, gardeners planted masses of c­rocuses, to replace the bulbs that wartime ewes had shredded. Now the Hardings could do what they loved and could shake hands with their visitors on a daily basis; one day that first month, they clutched three thousand two hundred palms in two hours (Hoover, 1934). On any given afternoon, one thousand or more would stop by. The public adored Florence and her “folksy” ways, from public receptions to Easter egg rolls. Despite the threat of

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exhaustion from these daily crowds, so much like with the Front Porch, she wanted to assure greater access to herself and her husband than her predecessors had offered, and she reveled in the positive accolades the newspapers poured on her as a result. So much was she “ ‘snapped,’ ‘interviewed,’ and ‘movied,’” one paper wrote, that “Mrs. Harding is a ‘star’” (Washington Post, October 10, 1920). In line with this celeb­ rity presence, she became the first in her position to insist on secret service protection. While Edith and Woodrow were gone, the late war’s issues still remained u­nresolved, and one of the most anticipated opportuni­ ties that Florence had to put her skills as White House host on display was the Washington Conference—the Harding administration’s answer to the League of Nations, which promoted limits on a­rmaments among the major powers. The first dinner she held for the conference delegates was a glittering affair, with 90 in attendance, who represented almost half as many nations (Washington Star, November 10, 1921). Florence was justifiably proud of how the dinner turned out, and she continued to use White House events like this as a way to connect with the larger public, underlining her own sense of the celebrity culture and the glamor of the White House. Though this was a dinner confined to the diplomatic glitterati, she invited in society page journal­ ists to see beforehand the decorations as well as her outfits—a consideration that these women reporters appreciated and turned into stories for their readership (Philadelphia Public Ledger, March 5, 1922). Florence remained passionate about music and liked to end such state dinners with a musicale that often featured piano, violin, and vocalists. After a gathering for the Supreme Court, for instance, Florence invited one of the day’s leading vocalists and songwriters, Carrie Jacobs Bond, to sing Florence’s favorite tune, “The End of a Perfect Day.” Bond accompanied herself at

the piano, alongside a baritone and a cellist. Although few have credited Florence with the cultural tastes or access of first ladies Jackie Kennedy, Helen Taft, or Grace Coolidge, she had a keen sense of musical enjoyment. She was glowing after these e­ venings, telling Esther, “Washington has not been so gay for many a year as now” (Florence Kling Harding to Esther Mezger, November 28, 1921 = Esther Mezger Collection, FLL). Her biggest gathering was yet to come, however: the first New Year’s reception at the White House since before World War I, when thousands were expected to arrive. The Wilsons had dispensed with this p­ opular custom, but Florence wanted to restore it. That day she dressed in a gown decorated with skunk fur—and by the end of the day she undoubtedly felt as ripe as this rodent. In five hours of greeting the masses, Florence’s right hand blew up with welts, and she had to switch to using her left (New York Tribune, January 3, 1922). Her gloves turned into rags. Being a celebrity certainly had its physi­ cal costs. She told her friend Mary Lee: “Our New Year’s Reception … sent me to bed for a couple of days before getting ready for it, and put me to bed for forty‐ eight hours afterwards.” She expressed more conflicted feelings to her friend Evaland Scobey: “the official season is on full blast, but I am enjoying it immensely. … there are times when I am worn more or less to a frazzle, but when the eventual day or night arrives I seem to arise to the occa­ sion” (quoted in Sibley, 2009: 101). After another body‐wearying reception later in January, Florence wrote to Lee, complain­ ing of “a neck so stiff that I want to shriek with pain every time I turn, and still I have to go on.” In response, Lee wrote back worriedly, “it is about killing you” (Florence Kling Harding to Mary Lee, January 26, 1922 and Mary Lee to Florence Kling Harding, February 3, 1922 = Mary Lee Papers, Box  9/3, OHS). But Warren and



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Figure  22.1  “Mrs. Harding and wives of the Philippine commissioners whom she entertained today, being filmed at the White House.” June 19, 1922. Source: National Photo Company Collection, Library of Congress.

Florence showed no signs of curtailing their physically demanding routines as p­resident and first lady. Perhaps they believed that such an outreach was necessary for maxi­ mizing their appeal as “celebrities.” They continued to cultivate that image by hobnobbing with Hollywood stars, invit­ ing D. W. Griffith and actresses Lillian and Dorothy Gish to the White House that spring of 1922 (Washington Star, March 28, 1922; Gish, 1969). Florence’s flair for photo opportunities was also apparent on the occasion of the visit of a female delega­ tion from the Philippine Parliamentary Mission in the following summer (see Figure 22.1); the participating women were seeking independence for their country.

While Florence’s photo shoot with the women probably did little to promote the interests of Philippine independence, activ­ ism on behalf of other worthy causes was a significant part of her work as first lady. Her efforts included assisting disabled veterans, furthering women’s political activism and economic opportunities, promoting humane conditions for female prisoners and others mistreated by the law, and fostering animal rights. In all of these areas she was visible, active, and politically influential; she promoted her causes also by involving h­erself in personnel decisions that furthered her aims. Thus she intervened with Cabinet friends like Secretary of War John Weeks to assist an unfairly discharged veteran, joking

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that, if Weeks was responsive, she would send him more such appeals (Sibley, 2009). Florence realized how quickly the world war had been forgotten in the rush back to “normalcy,” which left its soldiers neglected; she was motivated by her own experiences as an invalid as well. She invited veterans regularly to the White House for parties, including one large gathering of more than a thousand, who met dignitaries such as General John J. Pershing, the Coolidges, and Teddy Roosevelt Junior. Amid the music, roses, and refreshments, she signed autographs and allowed the blind veterans to feel her face, her jewelry, and her clothes. Moreover, Florence went often to Walter Reed Army Hospital, with its wards of d­isabled vets, and sent flowers there each week, recalling: “I was in a hospital for eight months with an open wound that had to be dressed twice a day, and I know what h­ospital life means to a patient” (New York Times, November 22, 1924). She did not, however, favor the bonus that Congress authorized for veterans during their administration. In July 1922 she visited Walter Reed with Colonel Charles Forbes, head of the Veterans Bureau, picking up no inkling of Forbes’s malfeasance yet. Reports were already circulating about abuses in his h­ ospitals, however; three thousand five h­undred mentally ill vets were said to be sleeping on the floor while their hospitals were making a $300 profit on each one of them (Sibley, 2009). Later, when Forbes’s embezzlement of millions sent in aid of v­ eterans was definitively proven, it was Florence (who had urged the hiring of this former friend in the first place) who was asked to intervene with Warren. Along with veterans, the first lady cared deeply about women’s conditions and their political activism. She believed that, on the basis of long and important work in reform and philanthropic movements, women were suited for “a part in political affairs which need be in no wise subordinate to

that of men.” Of course, she hoped they would take their part as Republicans (Florence Kling Harding to Mrs. George H. Lorimer, April 10, 1922 and Florence Kling Harding to Mary Tillinghast, November 21, 1921 = Florence Kling Harding Papers, Box 851, OHS). Invited to a luncheon hosted by the National Republican Club at New York’s Biltmore in January 1922, Florence was at first tempted, and then realized that it could set a precedent whereby her attendance at other such events would be expected. Instead of going in person, she wrote a three‐page letter to be read at the luncheon, which newspapers dubbed “the first political document ever issued by the wife of a President of the United States.” She called for women’s “organization, education, and [the] advancement” of republican causes, and noted that “[i]f I did not feel that the nation could, and in the long run must, be served through parties I would not be a par­ tisan Republican” (New York Herald, January 15, 1922; see also New York Tribune, January 15, 1922). Awkwardly for the White House, Mrs. Harding’s call for partisanship encouraged others to bash nonpartisan, gender‐based groups like the League of Women Voters or the National Women’s Party, and risked alienating repub­ lican women who worked with the League (Philadelphia Public Ledger, January 18, 1922). On the issue of women’s economic equal­ ity, too, Florence was outspoken. She looked forward to the day when the husband could “permit himself to be the less prominent and distinguished member of the combina­ tion.” She urged that a “woman who has some special talent or capacity … in litera­ ture, or in science, or in art,” should be sup­ ported and enabled to develop her talents. There should not be a trade‐off, marriage or career. Women should enjoy a “rounded and satisfactory life” (Florence Kling Harding to Winnie Galloway Kirby, February 7, 1922 = Florence Kling Harding Papers, Box 851, OHS).



florence kling harding: celebrity and activist

But her concerns for women were not limited to those who had the time for p­olitical activism or pursued careers in the professions. One of the most important struggles that she joined was the attempt to build a federal prison for women in Virginia. In the early 1920s there was no adequate federal facility for female inmates outside California. Helen H. Votaw, the first lady’s sister‐in‐law, appealed to her thus: “I will appreciate deeply the help you may be able to give in securing its early consideration by the House of Representatives” (quoted in Sibley, 2009: 126). Florence eagerly c­ omplied by contacting those who could assist. This cause drew strong enthusiasm for her, as it tied together the differing strands of her political outlook, including her progressive values, her concern for women’s rights, and her humanitarianism. The bill did not pass during the short‐ lived Harding administration; but, thanks in part to her efforts, the prison (now known as the Federal Prison Camp Alderson) was constructed in 1927. Ironically, the first lady most often mentioned in connection with the prison is Eleanor Roosevelt, who visited it in 1934 and is given credit for its e­stablishment as well (Ardaiz, 2012; Prison Talk, 2005). The conflation of Florence’s work with Eleanor’s suggests connections between these two activist women, although the continued ignorance of Florence’s role shows that, for too long, her legacy has been supplanted by her more famous successor. Similarly, while many know of Eleanor Roosevelt’s interventions on behalf of those mistreated in the US judicial system, Florence Harding’s efforts in this regard have been forgotten. Three months into the post, she tried to save the life of a woman, Mrs. Hattie Dixon, sentenced to be electro­ cuted in New York (Nathan C. Miller, New York governor to Florence Kling Harding, June 4, 1921 = Florence Kling Harding Papers, Box 851, OHS). She also attempted to stop the execution of Ephram High of Bibb County, Alabama, for stealing $59.

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With regret, Attorney General Harry Daugherty informed Florence that the Alabama statutes did indeed permit “death” as a punishment for robbery. In another instance the first lady was more successful. She pressed Daugherty’s office to review a West Virginia robbery case that had led to sentencing a group of boys (the youngest was just seven) to five years of penal servitude. Her efforts led to a pardon (Dougherty to Florence Kling Harding, July 13, 1922 = Florence Kling Harding Papers, OHS; Washington Star, March 27, 1922). Humane societies, too, knew that they could count on Florence’s assistance. Upset to learn that fishermen were killing seals in La Jolla, California, because they ate a desir­ able species of fish, she contacted an official at the commerce department, in an attempt to end the practice. Her efforts were also instrumental in saving the life of Dick, a Pennsylvania St. Bernard. As an immigrant, Dick’s owner was not permitted to own a dog in that state, and the creature was in jeopardy. Florence urged Warren to prevail upon Governor William Sproul, a family friend; Dick lived, only not with his owner. In the summer of 1922, when railway workers were striking against a 12 percent cut in pay, however, Florence’s decision to send $100 to a horse owner to save his animal from the knackers was lampooned (Sibley, 2009). That summer of the Great Railroad Strike was a hot one in Washington, and labor unrest and violence were only part of it. Florence, desperate to leave the city for a break from the heat, looked forward to a late August getaway on the Mayflower, down the Potomac to Chesapeake Bay— along with the Cabinet members who were deciding the fate of the strike. Almost imme­ diately upon boarding, she became ill. Fortunately the Mayflower’s able young doctor, Joel Boone, was on board to treat her. Florence’s nephritis was back, as the president soon informed journalists: “Boys, Mrs. Harding is in a very critical condition” (Washington Star, September 9, 1922). Her

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active presence would be missed in the com­ ing days, noted the Philadelphia Ledger: “perhaps no wife of a president, at least within recent years, has entered into the White House duties with more energy and zest than Mrs. Harding” (Philadelphia Ledger, September 9, 1922, quoted in Sibley, 2009: 150). Even when sick, Florence attracted great interest; when Dr. Charles Mayo and his wife arrived at the White House to assist her, they were met by a movie crew at the front door (Washington Post, September 12, 1922). This open, well‐publicized approach to a White House illness was highly unusual. William McKinley tried to hide Ida McKinley’s epilepsy during the 1896 cam­ paign by drugging her (Anthony, 2013). When first lady Nellie Taft lost her speech after a fall in 1909 and disappeared from public view for months, the public was told only that she’d had a “nervous breakdown” (Washington Post, May 18, 1909 and July 9, 1909). The Harding administration’s c­andid coverage, on the other hand, garnered an enormous outpouring of concern, as m­easured by ceremonies and church services, editorials, and letters. With millions praying, the efforts of Florence’s doctors and her indomitable will allowed her to overcame her illness. As Lawler wrote, “in the agonies of excruciating pain, with her temperature at 105 degrees and the end momentarily expected,” the first lady looked at her h­usband and said: “Don’t worry, Warren, I am not going to die” (quoted in Kathleen Lawler, 4: 7, FLL). Rather than let herself slip into a coma, she forced herself to stay awake for hours. Florence had adopted this practice of using her mind to control her body from the work of a French healer: Dr. Emile Coué. She had read his book Self‐mastery through Conscious Autosuggestion (Coué, 1922) and invited him to the White House when she was convalescing. Boone was struck: “she kept herself from dying truly by pure willpower.” At one point, despite her

drifting grasp of consciousness, she took Boone’s hands and “squeezed [them] so firmly that I cut the palms … until they bled” (Joel T. Boone Memoir Manuscript, 27: 63a, LC). Florence convalesced through the winter, managing in December to ensure her h­ usband’s firing of Charles Forbes, the crooked head of the Veterans Bureau, and by March she was well enough to go to Florida with the McLeans. By April she was making appearances again; in a presidential visit to New York she demonstrated that she was ready and quick to return to the causes she held dear, telling newspaper women: “It is my first real day back in the world after my illness and it feels good. I am talking to you because I am interested in women. I like to see women succeed” (Kathleen Lawler 1: 4, FLL). One of the ways she helped women do just that was to urge her husband, his Cabinet secretaries, and the heads of other bureaus to hire them. Sometimes her actions were controversial, but, as one paper defended her, “[w]hen the people elect a President they at the same time elect a Presidentess.” (The article was entitled “Mrs. Harding’s Alleged Patronage: No Reason Why a President’s Wife Should be Excluded from Politics” and can now be found in the Florence Kling Harding Papers, Box  858, OHS.) Three weeks into their administration, Mary C. Wiggin of the Joint Committee on Industrial Conditions for Women and Children in Massachusetts called on Florence to press her about a c­ andidate for the post of director of the labor department at the Women’s Bureau, assuming that Florence could influence this appointment. The first lady wrote back encouragingly: “You may be sure of my interest in the betterment of conditions among women in all departments of indus­ try … I will be pleased to call the President’s attention to what you have said” (quoted in Sibley, 2009: 132). In another case, Florence was consulted in the naming of a female officer for child welfare (Lois K. Marshall to



florence kling harding: celebrity and activist

Florence Kling Harding, May 29, 1923, Florence Kling Harding Papers, Box  854, OHS). Her personnel role was broad. Federal Prohibition Director J. E. Russell wrote Florence regarding the posting of an Ohio Prohibition agent, urging her to have her secretary call upon one of the Federal Prohibition commissioners (Federal Prohi­ bition Director J. E. Russell to Florence Kling Harding, no date = Florence Kling Harding Papers, Box  852, OHS). Charles Dewey Hilles of the Republican National Committee also wrote Florence about “our talk on the subject of the head of the Federal Reserve System” and gave her some names (Hilles to Florence Kling Harding, July 15, 1922 = Florence Kling Harding Papers, Box  852, OHS). As these examples also show, progressive era initiatives, from Prohibition to the rights of working women to child welfare, not to mention the Federal Reserve, were alive and well in the 1920s, despite Harding’s claim of a return to “n­ormalcy,” and the proliferation of agen­ cies associated with these new government initiatives provided the first lady, as well as other women, a new arena in which they could affect politics. Florence was fully involved. Her biggest adventure was yet to come, however. In June 1923 she would take part in the longest trip ever conducted by a first lady, when she joined her husband’s cross‐ country jaunt to Alaska. Because of her recent illness, Dr. Boone arranged for a nurse to come along, and then he took it upon himself “very secretly” to place a c­offin on the ship as well (Joel T. Boone Memoir Manuscript, 20: 162, LC). In fact Florence survived just fine, and in her sixty‐ three years she would never experience so much joy, so much excitement, as the trip to Alaska brought her. Nor did any journey ever leave her so heartbroken. Starting on January 20, their trip would cover 5,000 miles by train and another 20,000 miles by ocean‐going vessel. Along the way Florence would have the

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opportunity to give spontaneous speeches, greet crowds, and confirm that she was indeed “the first of all the wives of our presi­ dents who takes an actual hand in politics and is just as intense and enthusiastic … as if she were herself a candidate” (F. Harding quoted in Anthony, 1998: 424). Her role as a politically involved and active first lady would be on full display; on the way to Alaska, she and Warren hoped to make a closer connection with the American people by using the techniques they had perfected already at the White House, including f­requent handshaking and photo opportu­ nities. The trip across the country would resemble a portable New Year’s reception; and, while it was called the “Voyage of Understanding,” there was certainly plenty of politics in it. Unlike in the earlier reception, though, the weather this time would be broiling. Their luxurious presidential railcar, the Suberbe, was comfortable as they started off with their 85 friends, politicians, journalists, and staff. Their first major stop, St. Louis, was typical, featuring a convention, a r­eception, and an address at the Coliseum. As the Hardings exited the train in Kansas City, Missouri the next morning, they were met by close to two thousand people, each of whom they personally greeted. Concerned about such exertions, Drs. Boone and Sawyer tried to get Florence to stop, but she refused, insisting: “I don’t get tired, because I have such a good time doing it” (Joel T. Boone Memoir Manuscript, 19: 40e, LC). Instead they joined a sweltering parade lined by two hundred thousand participants. On the following day, in Hutchinson, Kansas, there was another parade, in worse heat. The Hardings also went to a farm, where the president stacked wheat until he was burnt red. Florence was not expected to work in this fashion, even for show, and was less affected by the temperature. She basked in being “the center of as much, if not more, interest than was the president” (Kansas City

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Journal Post, June 22, 1923). In Denver they visited a hospital, and, as Boone observed, Florence “took part in every­ thing,” having “the time of her life.” As they traveled on from Cheyenne, Wyoming to Butte, Montana, the first lady seemed to be holding up better than her husband, although she refrained from riding on horseback in Zion National Park. After a stop in Yellowstone, they reached Spokane on July 2 for another scorching parade, Harding bowing and smiling all the while. They went south, to Portland, for July the 4th, where thirty thousand heard Harding’s call for the “deportation or imprisonment” of all immigrants who “seek to break down American institutions”—a call that the president credited Florence with writing; and indeed her views on immi­ gration also fit her progressive mindset. Swinging back up to Tacoma, the gateway for their Alaskan adventure, Harding gave a rain‐soaked speech to an audience of thirty‐ five thousand and called for an eight‐hour day. The entourage dried off on board the comfortable naval transport USS Henderson. By now Florence was wearing down (Joel T. Boone Memoir Manuscript, 19: 71a, LC). There was much that she saw and enjoyed in Alaska, but by the time they arrived in Fairbanks—the most northern point reached by any first lady, 90 miles from the Arctic Circle—she could not leave her room. Recovering as they came back south, she avoided the canned crab that sickened several in the party, including President Harding. By the time they landed in Vancouver—the first president and the first first lady to visit Canada while in office—Warren was decidedly ill. Worried about his condition, Florence had urged her husband to stay on ship when they reached Seattle on July 26. But the president only saw all the people awaiting him, “on rooftops and all the windows that we could see, along roads and docks.” He turned to her and said, “Of course … I would not disappoint them for anything,

Florence.” Off he went, into an open car for another lengthy procession, doffing his hat constantly left and right (Joel T. Boone Memoir Manuscript, 20: 3, LC). It was sweltering by afternoon, but there were more outdoor activities, including two huge childrens’ picnics. These were followed by an address at the University of Washington Stadium—his sixty‐seventh speech in little over a month—in front of forty thousand people. Florence sensed something was off at the stadium and as the Evening Standard recalled on August 2, she “arose from her chair several times and straightened her dress in a nervous manner” (quoted in Sibley, 2009: 196). It would be her h­usband’s last public appearance. When the president got back to his q­uarters on the train at 7 p.m., he collapsed. Florence, rather than Warren, would appear at the back of the train as it traveled next to California. The public was told i­ nitially that he had sickened from those Alaskan crabs, while his doctors tried to f­igure out what was going on; his fellow s­ ufferers had recovered. The entourage would go straight to the Palace Hotel in San Francisco, so Harding could rest there when they arrived on Sunday, July 29. At the hotel, Sawyer and Boone saw not only a rising temperature but symptoms of an enlarged heart and pneumonia. At Florence’s urging, Harding canceled the rest of the trip on the 30th and, reflecting their style of full disclosure, Boone declared: “We freely admit the situation is grave” (San Francisco Chronicle, July 31, 1923b). The president seemed better by Tuesday, however, and Florence took the opportunity to meet with a group of San Francisco newspaper­ women and put a positive spin on things. They found her “calm and unruffled” in the midst of this tense situation. Florence c­onfided that her position as first lady was “a bit strenuous on trips like this, and o­ccupies all one’s time, but I love it” (San Francisco Chronicle, July 30; July 31, 1923a; Portland Oregonian, July 31, 1923). It



florence kling harding: celebrity and activist

looked as if she would be able to continue to do so; the president showed signs of improv­ ing, and by August 2 Sawyer reckoned that they could leave for home in a week (Oakland Tribune, August 2, 1923; Joel T. Boone Memoir Manuscript, 20: 47, LC). But that morning, when she arrived to groom Warren with comb and washcloth, as part of their morning routine, Florence had a shock that belied the doctor’s optimism. She gasped at his appearance: “I was h­orrified. Death stared back at me” (quoted in Kathleen Lawler, 30: 4, FLL). But Harding rallied, and later that afternoon she went back and read to him. Suddenly, h­ owever, he abruptly stiffened, went pale and began to sweat, complaining of a “very strange, sinking feeling.’” Florence threw down the article she was reading, but she relaxed as she saw color returning to his face and conceded that Dr. Boone, who had not left the hotel for days, might at last take a walk around 6:45 p.m. (Joel T. Boone Memoir Manuscript, 20: 52, LC). When the doctor returned ten minutes later, he heard his name echoing eerily through the elevator shaft above. As he rushed into the president’s room, “Mrs. Harding grabbed me hysterically, shook me by the shoulders, looked me in the eye with a very startled expression, and said, ‘Dr Boone, you can save him, you can save him! You can bring him back! Hurry, hurry, hurry!’” But, as soon as he looked at the president, Boone knew he was dead. Florence fell into his arms, wailing and h­ eaving with sobs. Cabinet wives Lou Henry Hoover and May Wallace helped take her gently off Boone and back to her own room, as she was “biting her lips and c­ lenching her hands” (Joel T. Boone Memoir Manuscript, 20: 55, LC). Calmed by sedatives, she went to bed at 1 a.m. As the news spread, journalist Estelle Lawton Lindsey pronounced melodramati­ cally: “she is the chief figure in this national calamity, for we all know the colossal trag­ edy that has come to her and if we are

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women we must stop for one moment to whisper: ‘God help her.’” With Harding’s death, Florence was said to have become “the most lonesome widow the world has ever known” (Los Angeles Times, August 4, 1923; Washington Star, August 5, 1923). The Hardings’ long openness with the press had led to an empathic connection with journalists, but such dire statements under­ estimated their subject; Florence was a strong and independent woman, and she would find her way as a widow. As word spread on the 3rd of August, reports soon noted with amazement her “control of h­erself as [the] trying day wore on … She seemed to have her nerves under constant and unceasing grip.” Florence’s mantra remained: “I am not going to break down” (quoted in Sibley, 2009: 211). In the late afternoon she arranged for a brief service at the hotel. Hearing the clergyman’s descrip­ tion of her husband she sobbed, but then grabbed her friend George Christian’s arm and quickly regained her composure. The Funeral Train and Its Aftermath The 1923 transcontinental journey with Harding’s body would be, as one paper wrote, “a nationwide funeral, lasting four days and four nights, stretching over 3,100 miles.” (New York Tribune, August 8, 1923). Despite her great sorrow, Florence orchestrated it flawlessly. As the train ground through the night, thousands lined the tracks, sometimes singing softly Harding’s favorite hymns, such as “Lead Kindly Light” or “Nearer My God to Thee” (Starling, 1946: 201). Regardless of the time, when crowds were present Florence had the train slow down to 10 miles per hour, so that the forty thousand who saluted them in Omaha in the middle of the night, for instance, might take a look at the casket through the train window. In Chicago progress was completely stopped, as crowds overran the

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tracks. People hung on buildings, scaffolding, bridges, telephone poles, railcars, anywhere they could get a closer look—for miles. Florence awoke on August 7 to cross the river into Pittsburgh, where the appreciative steel workers, who had her husband to thank for ending their twelve‐hour day, bowed their heads as the train passed (Joel T. Boone Memoir Manuscript, 20: 123, LC). Ninety‐six hours after leaving San Francisco, the train at last arrived in Washington. Florence quickly went to the White House in time to receive her husband’s body at 11:10 p.m. For Florence and Warren, the night of August 7–8 would be their last in the mansion together. Well after midnight, when everyone had gone, Florence visited him, praying silently for half an hour. Just as she did so, Evalyn rushed in from Bar Harbor. She was as stunned as everyone else: “I never saw Mrs. Harding shed a tear, never broke—she had great gameness, that woman” (Cohen, 1997: 146). The next morning, heavily veiled, Florence left the White House with Dr. Sawyer and got into her limousine behind the horse‐drawn caisson with Harding’s body for a huge funeral procession to the Capitol. Behind her were dignitaries in automobiles, from Supreme Court Justice Taft to now President Coolidge to former President Wilson; above, a black‐draped plane slowly droned. Two hundred thousand more watched from the sidewalks on the mile‐ long procession. In the Rotunda, Harding’s remains would rest on a catafalque originally built for Abraham Lincoln. After a short service at the Capitol, Florence returned to the White House, and one hundred thousand people poured in to see Harding in the Rotunda; the rest had to be turned away. Later that day she joined her late husband again, on the last funeral train, for his burial in Marion. There President Coolidge, Chief Justice Taft, and Secretary Hughes arrived on the next day for a short ceremony, while thousands lined their approach to the cemetery. After the

conclusion of the service and the sounding of Taps, Mrs. Harding followed her h­usband into the simple vault with George Christian. As Starling (1946) recalled, when she came out of the tomb she looked transformed by a mystical sustenance. Perhaps she knew that the entire country was with her at that moment. Traffic on subways, trains, and vessels stopped in many cities for several minutes. Communications ceased too; Western Union and the postal service each observed pauses (New York Times, August 11, 1923). In Philadelphia, [t]raffic on hundreds of streets came to a dead stop…like a mechanical carnival run down … A throng … stood in Independence Square with heads bared and eyes upraised to the belfry, where s­orrow spoke in the tone of a bell clapper. (Philadelphia Ledger, August 11, 1923, quoted in Sibley, 2009: 229–230)

Florence quickly returned to Washington to tidy up her affairs, staying for almost a week in the empty White House. She wrote to Esther on August 25: “the days are pretty dark to me and I see absolutely nothing for the future.” But her buoyant spirit would not let her give up entirely: “Well! I will just have to wait. Time may adjust some things that I cannot see now” (quoted in Marion Newslife, May 5, 1980). Florence next moved to Friendship, the McLean mansion, where she remained for a few weeks before departing for Marion. It was at Friendship that she began to burn some of the papers; “several crates” were consumed “in a great bonfire,” according to Gary Cohen (1997: 146). While nothing from the investigations of wrongdoing in the interior department and at the attorney general’s office was ever tied to Warren or her then or since, Florence was likely r­eacting in this way to save his reputation and preserve his legacy. Kenneth Duckett notes that this burning was one of “the great stories in American historiography:



florence kling harding: celebrity and activist

the censorship, suppression, and destruction of many of the important historical sources material to the Harding Administration” (Duckett, 1965: 26–28). But there was much that she did save, and much more that she did not find to destroy—as detailed below. Indeed, Florence planned to co‐author, with her former campaign aide and friend Kathleen Lawler, a manuscript about Harding’s election, and a wholesale destruc­ tion of documents would have harmed those efforts. Unfortunately, focused as she was on her own work, her approach was to d­ iscourage others, who contacted her in hopes that they might memorialize him; and this made room for less scrupulous critics, who cared not at all about her approval of their manuscripts. As noted in the historiog­ raphy section below, the attacks soon appeared, staining the Hardings’ story with mud that has stuck ever since. Despite the selective burning, Florence had a strong sense of her place in history, as shown by her awareness of the significance of the Front Porch; she carefully preserved the Harding home and its effects. Florence’s sense of history would also have been sparked by hearing that her husband’s name had come under consideration for a Nobel Peace Prize for his work with the Washington Conference, though unfortunately no such prize was given in 1923 or 1924. She was also involved in the efforts of the Harding Memorial Association (HMA) to create a massive mausoleum for President Harding in Marion; this same organization, however, would bury the Hardings’ papers for decades. Florence did not intend to spend much time in her hometown herself; she would return to Washington in January, starting a new stage in her life with a top floor suite at the Willard Hotel. She arrived back on January 3, 1924, renting her rooms at $81.62 per week—not a problem, considering that she earned close to $15,000 a year on her dividends and other financial arrange­ ments. Her return was announced in the New York Times, which indicated that she

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was still a public personality. However, she was determined to maintain what she saw as the “dignity” of her former post: “I cannot at this time make any public appearances or take an active part in any public movements” (quoted in Sibley, 2009: 249). Indeed, though friends came to visit, she rarely left her rooms. Her “cloistered life” worried her friend Mack Jennings: “Cannot you get your machine out and drive some every day?” (Mack Jennings to Florence Kling Harding March 11, 192 = Carl Sferazza Anthony Collection, FLL). She did make Woodrow Wilson’s funeral on February 6 and Congress’s memorial service for Harding three weeks later. Meanwhile, she and Kathleen were busy, making steady progress on their manuscript. But Florence grew increasingly distressed as allegations about Harding’s former Interior Secretary Albert Fall sprang to life that spring, spurred by a Senate investigation of his oil leases to Edward Doheny and Harry Sinclair. Their close friend Daugherty’s t­oleration of corruption as attorney general only compounded the sins of Harding h­ oldovers; Daugherty resigned in March, although he was never convicted. To calm Florence, Jennings urged her to “be patient and long suffering, knowing that every p­resident … has run the gamut of calumny and been vindicated by time” (Mack Jennings to Florence Kling Harding, March 29, 1924 = Carl Sferazza Anthony Collection, FLL). The investigations were worrisome, but much worse was her discovery in July that her body was failing her again. Lawler remembered that “her old spirit was still dominant … stoutly contending that she could and would soon regain her health.” But by July 19 she and Florence decided they had to contact Dr. Sawyer. He rushed to the Willard the next morning, announcing that “she must go back to Marion, at once, accompanied by a nurse.” Florence resisted: “I have not the slightest notion of dying yet, Dr. Sawyer.” Sawyer was a­damant, though, stating that his wife Mandy would take her

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home. Florence lamented to Lawler: “I cannot be reconciled to going back to Marion. I do not want to go. It is wholly unnecessary. I want to stay here now that we have my work so well in hand” (Kathleen Lawler, 32: 2–3, FLL). But she could not ignore Sawyer’s influence upon her as her old and trusted doctor. Yet Florence’s inclinations were right; going back was a mistake. Back in Marion, with less to exercise her mind, her interest in life withered; her main preoccupation became daily visits to her husband’s g­raveside. She was increasingly withdrawn, and Sawyer’s own death two months later didn’t help. Mrs. Harding’s last appear­ ance in p­ublic was on October 16, when she attended a US Marine Band concert at the tomb. Though piles of letters and get‐well cards arrived, Boone pointed out that her “joy and incentive and desire to live” were gone, so different was it now from the situation during her earlier bout in the White House (Joel T. Boone Memoir Manuscript, 20: 217, LC). Wistfully, Florence spoke about returning to Washington before winter. But she was soon worse, despite visits from more specialists and despite another operation. Indeed Florence was declining rapidly by mid‐November. Her friends and family gathered round her bedside—including brother Cliff, Esther, Mrs. Sawyer, the Carl Sawyers, and George Christian. She died on November 21 at 8: 55 a.m., and her obitu­ ary in the New York Times (November 22, 1924) underlined her highly positive repu­ tation in her time: “Mrs. Florence Kling Harding was extremely popular in Washington … those who knew her testified to her charm … sympathy and understand­ ing.” As Secretary Charles Evans Hughes put it eloquently: “I am inexpressibly s­addened by the death of Mrs. Harding. We can never forget the dignity and charm with which she presided as the mistress of the White House” (New York Times, November 22, 1924).

Twelve thousand people came to Marion at her death, to walk by her open casket under a “leaden sky” (New York Times, November 24, 1924; Marion Star, November 23, 1924). Their sentiments reflected the real popularity that she g­arnered as first lady, which unfortunately did not outlive her for long. Florence was buried with her husband in his small vault, before they moved three years later to be reinterred in the huge classical Harding Memorial in Marion. Historiography Florence Harding’s reputation in historiog­ raphy has long been a tarnished one; while the scandals in her husband’s interior and justice departments certainly contributed to this picture, many of the writings about Florence are colored by a particular kind of denigration related to her gender and her age. Gaston B. Means helped establish this image by dismissing her as “a little drab woman, strong‐minded, self‐willed, older than her husband by nine years [actually, it was about five and a half] … clinging with tenacious ferocity to the illusions of youth” (Means, 1930: 236, 162). Five years later, journalist Mark Sullivan, too, suggested in gendered terms that she was relentlessly uptight: “aggressive and talkative,” “sparrow‐ like,” her face “too shinily rouged,” her clothes “too trimly tailored.” “A nervous, rather excitable woman … strident,” Alice Roosevelt Longworth piled on (Sullivan, 1935: 98; Longworth, 1933: 323). As early as their first full year in office, the scathing screeds predominated, even before any Cabinet‐level scandals. The year 1922, for instance, saw the appearance of derisive (and racist) books by William Estabrook Chancellor and Clinton Wallace Gilbert (Chancellor, 1922; Gilbert, 1922). After the Hardings’ deaths, things slipped quickly to an even lower ebb for his reputation, with  Nan Britton’s (1927) notorious The



florence kling harding: celebrity and activist

President’s Daughter. Other critical early writings include Samuel Adams’s (1926) novel Revelry and William Allen White’s (1928) Masks in a Pageant. While fewer and less influential, there were some positive contemporary portrayals, including Joe Mitchell Chapple’s two self‐published works: Warren G. Harding: The Man (Chapple, 1920) and Life and Times of Warren G. Harding, Our After‐war President, published in 1924. In addition, several “insider” books—including those of housekeeper Elizabeth Jaffray (1927), usher Irwin (Ike) Hood Hoover (1934), and secret service agent Edmund Starling (1946)— provided a more balanced approach. Of the early books, Alice Roosevelt Longworth’s (1933) Crowded Hours con­ tains the most indelible caricature of Florence: the dour, drinks‐toting barmaid at her husband’s raucous card parties. This book helped set the stage for decades of highly critical historiography. Even Florence’s friend Evalyn Walsh McLean (with Boyden Sparkes) deserted her, writing an appalling portrait of Florence in 1936 (George Lorimer to Sparkes, Hope Ridings Miller Papers, Box  2). Rounding out the early attacks was Samuel Hopkins Adams’s (1964) second entry, Incredible Era: The Life and Times of Warren Gamaliel Harding (first published in 1939), which continued to peddle the “black blood” theory. The Hardings were largely overlooked until the 1960s, when Francis Russell unearthed the Carrie Phillips letters, a dis­ covery that finally encouraged the small group of men in charge of the Harding Memorial Association to decide— even as they locked up the Phillips letters for yet another half‐century—that the Harding reputation might actually improve, rather than worsen, with the release of their long‐ secreted boxes. The Library of Congress Manuscript Division had attempted to get  these Harding files nearly forty years earlier,  in 1925. Their existence confirms ­ that  Florence’s pyrotechnics left much

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untouched, as Donald E. Pitzer (1998) notes; some of it may be found in the Appendix B to this essay. Russell’s (1968) The Shadow of Blooming Grove was among the first to address the Hardings drawing on the new papers. With a title that perpetuates the racism that characterized much of the early brief against Harding, it continues to inform much of popular wisdom today on the couple, including a highly critical p­ortrait of Florence and a portrayal of the Hardings’ marriage and presidency colored by scandal. Besides playing up Warren’s love affairs, Russell’s study contains an inexorably n­ egative—and inaccurate—emphasis on Florence’s personal and physical attributes, just as that of Means did, making it difficult to recognize this immensely popular first lady. In this and later publications, Russell’s misogyny is on display as he impugns her “deficiency as a female” owing to her “d­ omineering” nature: “The withered h­ arridan [President Harding] ironically called the Duchess,” he wrote (Russell, 1978: 60); “sexless, with the brittle quality of an autumn leaf” (Russell, 1968: 5, 91). Privately, Russell believed that, if she had been only “warm, sensuous, buxom,” Harding “might have led a very successful life as a Marion editor” and never attempted the presidency. Instead, Russell claimed she was “hermaphroditic” (Francis Russell to Charlton Myers, March 20, 1965 = Marion County Historical Society [MCHS]). Robert K. Murray (1969) is much more b­alanced, but nonetheless resorts to sexist language when referring to Florence. These two books seemed the final word until the late twentieth century, when a much fuller and more generous portrait emerged, and one focused on Florence, in Carl Anthony’s (1998) Florence Harding: The First Lady, The Jazz Age, and the Death of America’s Most Scandalous President. Anthony found her a woman of strength and drive and a full partner to her husband. Yet the book still often focuses on Warren more

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than on Florence, alleging numerous extra­ marital affairs; Anthony also contends that Florence was a contributor to her husband’s death by acquiescing to his doctors’ inept prac­ tices and questions her refusal of an autopsy as part of this “conspiracy” to cover up medical “negligence” (Anthony, 1998: 460–467). Florence’s suspected role in her h­usband’s demise has a long history. It starts with the mendacious Means, where Florence’s role as “poisoner” is fully proclaimed (Means, 1930: 260–265). Means, himself a criminal, infamously extorted $100,000 from Evalyn McLean in ransom money for a false effort to rescue the Lindbergh baby in 1935; he died in the Atlanta penitentiary. Despite his reputation, the story of Florence’s “poisoning” her husband continues to hold its following and is mentioned in otherwise highly respectable sources, such as the Miller Center at the University of Virginia (see Miller Center, 2015). Robert Ferrell (1996), however, argues persuasively that the president’s death resulted from heart disease and was a prod­ uct of his medical history and of a propen­ sity to overexert himself—as he had certainly done that on his last trip. Sibley (2009) has emphasized that Florence’s reaction of dev­ astation to Warren’s death, and her reliance on his doctors for her own treatment, too, suggest her lack of culpability. Other recent works, though—including the books of James Robenalt (2009) and Laton McCartney (2008)—continue to emphasize Harding scandals of whatever type, from bedroom to Cabinet. This focus continues in the popular culture with the HBO Boardwalk Empire television series, which highlights Harding’s relationship with Nan Britton. A more positive perspective on both Hardings is expected from Allis and Ron Radosh in their new book (Radosh and Radosh, forthcoming). As this chapter has suggested, the largely negative image of Hardings in scholarship and in the popular imagina­ tion has made it very difficult for us to see

the pioneering role of First Lady Florence Harding. Such depictions have also pre­ vented a clear understanding of how she and Warren were loved in their time. Florence was an activist who fully took on the role of celebrity as well, borrowing from the techniques of movies and mass marketing appeal in her husband’s cam­ paign no less than in the White House. She did this both at her glamorous parties for diplomats and other dignitaries and in opening the White House grounds to the multitudes, holding countless hand­ shaking marathons and photo‐ops—an openness to public exposure that was unprecedented for a first lady. She was also influential in her efforts to change p­olicy and promote causes; in her activism she was a role model for later first ladies and other political women. While Ferrell (1996), Anthony (1998), and Sibley (2009) have highlighted Florence Harding’s impor­ tant contributions as first lady, the popular culture and many scholarly sources still cling to older views. As a result, many fruitful avenues remain open for students and scholars interested in exploring and redefining the work and legacy of this path‐breaking first lady. Notes 1 For this and all subsequent newspaper and magazine articles from Florence Kling Harding’s period, see Appendix A at the end of the chapter. 2 For all the documentary material cited in this chapter, see Appendix B at the end.

Appendix A: Archival Newspaper and Magazine Articles All the titles listed here have been used in the preparation of this chapter, but not all of them are mentioned directly. Items cited and/or quoted from are marked by double asterisk.



florence kling harding: celebrity and activist

Arizona Star August 4, 1923: “Body Starts Long Trip back to Washington as Thousands Pay Homage.” Denver Post **August 12, 1920: “Star Gazing Is Latest Fad in National Capital Society.” June 25, 1923: “President Spends Sunday Obtaining Much Needed Rest.” Fresno Bee August 4, 1923: “Mrs. Harding Shows Her Brave Spirit in Ordeal While All Nation Weeps.” Kansas City Journal Post **June 22, 1923: “K. C. Accepts ‘First Lady’ as ‘All Right.’” Los Angeles Times **August 4, 1923: “Long, Dreary Days Ahead of Mrs. Harding, Who Does Not Feel Her Loss As Yet.” August 5, 1923: “‘Desert Towns Turn Out’: “Pioneers Cast Flower before Funeral Train.” Marion Newslife September 2, 1979: “The President We Knew.” **May 5, 1980: “The Duchess of Center Street.” Marion Star November 19, 1924: “Mrs. Harding Worse, Nears Coma State.” **November 23, 1924: “Thousands See Noted Woman’s Body in Casket.” National Magazine 1923: Chapple, J. M. “The Will to Live That Won.” New York Herald **January 15, 1922: “Mrs. Harding Urges Loyalty to Party.” September 10, 1922: “Mrs. Harding Fights against Great Odds; Operation Possible.” New York Times **November 14, 1920: “A Glimpse of Mrs. Harding.” **August 11, 1923: “Whole City Hushed at Hour of Burial: Courts, Business, Theatres and Sports Give up Day to Honor Dead President.”

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January 4, 1924: “Mrs. Harding Back in Washington.” November 21, 1924: “Mrs. Harding Now Failing Rapidly.” **November 22, 1924: Harding Dies after Long Fight; She Succumbs to Old Ailment in Sawyer Home.” **November 24, 1924: “Thousands Pass Mrs. Harding’s Bier.” New York Tribune **January 3, 1922: “Mrs. Harding Nearly Collapses in Greeting 6,500 at White House.” **January 15, 1922: “Forceful Letter Favoring GOP Read to National Republican Women.” September 9, 1922: “Mrs. Harding Is Critically Ill, Recovery Held ‘Not Assured,’ Noted Specialists Summoned.” September 10, 1922: “Mrs. Harding Shows Slight Improvement.” **August 8, 1923: “Mrs. Harding Slows Train for Throngs.” December 16, 1923: “New Song in Harding Memorial Will Be Broadcast Tonight.” Philadelphia Ledger January 15, 1922: “Dolly Madison’s Washington Letter.” **September 10, 1922: “Mrs. Harding Still in Critical State, Her Physicians Say.” Philadelphia Public Ledger ** January 18, 1922, “Women Divided on Party Loyalty.” **March 5, 1922: “Mrs. Harding’s Simplicity Endears Her to Capital.” Portland Oregonian July 5, 1923: “First Lady of the Land Loveable and Gentle.” **July 31, 1923: “President Cheered by Mrs. Harding.” San Francisco Chronicle **July 30, 1923: “First Lady of Land Denies Self to San Francisco Admirers as She Nurses Famed Husband.” **July 31, 1923a: “First Lady of Land Receives Group in Hall.”

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**July 31, 1923b: “Oxygen Tanks Reported Taken to Sick Room for Emergency Case.” San Francisco Examiner August 2, 1923: “President Continues to Gain Slowly.” Salt Lake Tribune August 4, 1923: “Solemn Dignity and Sorrow Attend Departure of Train.” August 5, 1932: “Train Bearing Body of Harding Hurries across Open Spaces.” Spokane Spokesman‐Review July 3, 1923: “Hundreds Shake Harding’s Hand.” Tacoma Times July 5, 1923: “President and Wife Gracious.” Time Magazine March 17, 1923: “National Affairs: Mrs. Harding.” Washington Herald **January 15, 1922: “President and Wife to Be Congressional Club Guests.” September 9, 1922: “Mrs. Harding Critically Ill after Relapse.” Washington Post **May 18, 1909: “Mrs. Taft Taken Ill.” **July 9, 1909: “Mrs. Taft’s Health Better.” **October 10, 1920: “Mrs. Harding on Front Porch Plays an Important Role.” January 8, 1922: Forbes, K., “Home Life in the White House.” January 22, 1922: “Mrs. Harding Is Very Fond of Dogs but Has Aversion for Peacock Feathers.” March 5, 1922: “Mrs. Harding Wins Nation as White House Hostess During Year Just Ended.” March 7, 1922: “Too Late to Plead for Her Son’s Life.” **September 12, 1922: “Mrs Harding Shows Much Improvement.” Washington Star **November 10, 1921: “President and Mrs. Harding Hosts to Arms Vistors.” **March 27, 1922: “Mrs. Harding Intervenes for Boy Prisoners.”

**March 28, 1922: “President and Mrs. Harding Receive Popular Movie Folk.” **September 9, 1922: “Mrs. Harding’s Condition Regarded as Desparate [sic].” **August 5, 1923: “When Mrs. Harding Leaves White House She Will Go into a World of Emptiness.”

Appendix B: Catalogue of the Relevant Unpublished Manuscripts and Collections • Ohio Historical Society (OHS), Columbus, Ohio: The Florence Kling Harding Papers The Warren G. Harding Papers: The George B. Christian Papers The Malcolm Jennings Papers The Mary Lee Papers The Frank Scobey Papers • First Ladies Library (FLL), Canton, Ohio: The Carl Sferazza Anthony Collection The Florence Kling Harding Diary Kathleen Lawler, “The Hardings I Knew” The Esther Mezger Collection The White House Papers • Library of Congress (LC), Washington, DC: The Joel T. Boone Memoir Manuscript The Evalyn Walsh McLean Papers • American Heritage Center (AHC), Laramie, Wyoming: The Francis Russell Papers • Marion County Historical Society (MCHS), Marion, Ohio: The Charlton Myers Collection

References Adams, S. H. 1926. Revelry. New York: Boni and Liveright. Adams, S. H. 1964 [1939]. Incredible Era: The Life and Times of Warren Gamaliel Harding, 2nd ed. New York: Capricorn Books.



florence kling harding: celebrity and activist

Ancestry. 2015. “DNA Test Proves Family’s Link to President Harding.” Ancestry Blogs. http:// blogs.ancestry.com/cm/2015/08/14/dna‐ test‐proves‐familys‐link‐to‐president‐harding (accessed November 2, 2015). Anthony, C. 1998. Florence Harding: The First Lady, the Jazz Age, and the Death of America’s Most Scandalous President. New York: Morrow. Anthony, C. 2013. Ida McKinley: The Turn‐of‐ the‐Century First Lady through War, Assassination, and Secret Disability. Kent, OH: Kent State University Press. Ardaiz, J. 2012: Hands through Stone: How Clarence Ray Allen Masterminded Murder from behind Folson’s Prison Walls. Fresno, CA: Linden Publishing. Baker, P. 2015. “DNA Is Said to Solve a Mystery of Warren Harding’s Love Life.” New York Times, August 12. Britton, N. 1927. The President’s Daughter. New York: Elizabeth Ann Guild. Burnette, A. E. 2004. “Florence Kling Harding: Bridging Traditional and Modern Rhetorical Roles.” In Inventing a Voice: The Rhetoric of American First Ladies of the Twentieth Century, edited by M. M. Wertheimer, 125–144. Lanham, MD: Rowman & Littlefield. Chancellor, W. E. 1922. Warren Gamaliel Harding: President of the United States: A Review of Facts Collected from Anthropological, Historical, and Political Researches. Dayton, OH: The Sentinal Press. Chapple, J. M. 1920. Warren G. Harding: The Man. Boston: Chapple Publishing it is Company. Cohen, G. 1997. “The Lady and the Diamond.” Vanity Fair, August. Coué, É. 1922. Self‐Mastery through Conscious Autosuggestion. New York: Malkan Publishing Company. Daily Mail Online. 2015. “DNA Proves President Harding Fathered Child out of Wedlock.” August 13. http://www.dailymail.co.uk/ wires/ap/article‐3196946/DNA‐proves‐ President‐Harding‐fathered‐child‐wedlock. html (accessed November 2, 2015). Dean, J. W. 2004. Warren G. Harding. New York: Times Books. DeBarthe, J. 1928. The Answer to ‘The President’s Daughter’ and other Defamations

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of a Great American. Marion, OH: Answer Publishing. Downes, R. C. 1970. The Rise of Warren Gamaliel Harding. Columbus: Ohio State University Press. Duckett, K. W. 1965. “The Harding Papers: How Some Were Burned.” American Heritage 16 (2): 25–31. Ferrell, R. H. 1996. The Strange Deaths of President Harding. Columbia: University of Missouri Press. Foster, E. A., M. A., Jobling, P. G. Taylor, P. Donnelly, P. de Knijff, R. Mieremet, T. Zerjal, and C. Tyler‐Smith. 1998. “Jefferson Fathered Slave’s Last Child.” Nature 396: 27–28. Fox, J. F., Jr. 2014. “Progressivism in an Age of Normalcy: Women’s Rights, Civil Service, Veterans’ Benefits, and Child Welfare.” In A Companion to Warren G. Harding, Calvin Coolidge, and Herbert Hoover, edited by K. A. S. Sibley, 34–52. Oxford: Wiley Blackwell. Frederick, R. 2014. “The Election of 1920.” In A Companion to Warren G. Harding, Calvin Coolidge, and Herbert Hoover, 94–111. Oxford: Wiley Blackwell. Gilbert, C. W. 1922. Behind the Mirrors: The Psychology of Disintegration at Washington. New York: G. P. Putnam’s Sons. Gish, L. 1969. The Movies, Mr. Griffith and Me. Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice Hall. Goodwin, D. K. 1995. No Ordinary Time: Franklin and Eleanor Roosevelt: The Home Front in World War II. New York: Simon & Schuster. Gordon‐Reed, A. 1997. Thomas Jefferson and Sally Hemings: An American Controversy. Charlottesville: University Press of Virginia. Gould, L. L. 2003. Grand Old Party: A History of the Republicans. New York: Random House. Hoover, I. H. 1934. Forty‐two Years in the White House. Boston: Houghton Mifflin. Jaffray, E. 1927. Secrets of the White House. New York: Cosmopolitan Book Corporation. Keyssar, A. 2000. The Right to Vote: The Contested History of Democracy in the United States, rev. edn. New York: Basic Books. Longworth, A. R. 1933. Crowded Hours. New York: Scribner’s. Louvish, S. 2007. Cecil B. De Mille: A Life in Art. New York: St. Martin’s Press.

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McCartney, L. 2008. The Teapot Dome Scandal: How Big Oil Bought the Harding White House and Tried to Steal the Country. New York: Random House. McCoy, D. R. 1971. “Election of 1920.” In History of American Presidential Elections 1789–1968, 4 vols., edited by Arthur M. Schlesinger, Jr., 3: 2347–2456. New York: Chelsea House. McLean, E. W., with B. Sparkes. 1969. Father Struck It Rich. Boston: Little, Brown. Means, G. B. 1930. The Strange Death of President Harding: From the Diaries of Gaston B. Means, a Department of Justice Investigator. New York: Gold Label Books. Miller Center. 2015. “Warren G. Harding: Family Life.” 2015. http://millercenter.org/ president/harding/essays/biography/7 (accessed November 2, 2015). Mintz, S., and S. Kellogg. 1988. Domestic Revolutions: A Social History of American Family Life. New York: Free Press. Morello, J. A. 2001. Selling the President, 1920: Albert D. Lasker, Advertising, and the Election of Warren G. Harding. Westport, CT: Praeger. Murray, R. K. 1969. The Harding Era: Warren G. Harding and His Administration. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press. NPR. 2015. “DNA Test Reveals President Harding Had a Love Child.” npr.org, August 13. http:// www.npr.org/2015/08/13/432122630/dna‐ test‐reveals‐president‐warren‐harding‐had‐a‐ love‐child (accessed November 2, 2015). Pitzer, D. E. 1998. “An Introduction to the Harding Papers.” Ohio History 75: 76–84. Radosh, R., and A. Radosh. 2015. “Rethinking Warren G. Harding.” New York Times, August 27. Radosh, R., and A. Radosh. Forthcoming. The Hardings. New York: Simon & Schuster. Robenalt, J. D. 2009. The Harding Affair. New York: Palgrave Macmillan. Robenalt, J. D. 2015. “If We Weren’t so Obsessed with Warren G. Harding’s Love Life, We’d Realize He Was a Pretty Good President.” Washington Post, August 13. Russell, F. 1968. The Shadow of Blooming Grove: Warren G. Harding in His Times. New York: McGraw‐Hill. Russell, F. 1978. “The Shadow of Warren Harding.” The Antioch Review 36 (1): 57–76.

Sherman, R. B. 1973. The Republican Party and Black America from McKinley to Hoover, 1896–1933. Charlottesville: University Press of Virginia. Sibley, K. A. S. 2009. First Lady Florence Harding: Behind the Tragedy and Controversy. Lawrence: University Press of Kansas. Sienna College Research Institute/CSPAN. 2014. “Study of the First Ladies of the United States.” http://webdev.siena.edu/assets/files/news/ Appendix_A_Overall_Sur vey_Results.pdf (accessed November 2, 2015). Smith, D., and N. Wade. 1998. “DNA Test Finds Evidence of Jefferson Child by Slave.” New York Times, November 1. Smith, J. M. 2014. “The Letters That Harding’s Family Didn’t Want You to See.” New York Times, July 7. Starling, E. 1946. Starling of the White House: The Story of the Man whose Secret Service Detail Guarded Five Presidents from Woodrow Wilson to Franklin D. Roosevelt as Told to Thomas Sugrue. New York. Simon and Schuster. Sullivan, M. 1935. Our Times: The United States, 1920–1925, vol. 6: The Twenties. New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons. Thomas Jefferson Memorial Foundation. 2000. “Report of the Research Committee on Thomas Jefferson and Sally Hemings.” http://www.monticello.org/site/plantation‐ and‐slaver y/report‐research‐committee‐ thomas‐jefferson‐and‐sally‐hemings (accessed November 3, 2015). White, W. A. 1928. Masks in a Pageant. New York: Macmillan.

Further Reading C‐SPAN. 2015. “Florence Harding.” First Ladies Series (originally aired September 30, 2013). http://firstladies.c‐span.org/FirstLady/31/ Florence‐Harding.aspx (accessed November 2, 2015). Daugherty, H. M. 1932. The Inside Story of the Harding Tragedy. New York: Churchill Company. Huffington Post. n.d. “Michelle Obama Style.” http://www.huffingtonpost.com/news/ michelle‐obama‐style (accessed November 2, 2015).



florence kling harding: celebrity and activist

“Making Hillary Clinton an Issue.” 2000. Frontline. http://www.pbs.org/wgbh/pages/ frontline/shows/clinton/etc/03261992.html (accessed November 2, 2015). “My Best Friend Is Going to Alderson Federal Prison Camp.” 2005. Prison Talk, March 24.

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h t t p : / / w w w. p r i s o n t a l k . c o m / f o r u m s / archive/index.php/t‐114450.html (accessed November 2, 2015). Sinclair, A. 1965. The Available Man: The Life Behind the Masks of Warren Gamaliel Harding. New York: Macmillan.

Chapter Twenty Three

Grace Coolidge Teri Finneman

Calvin Coolidge’s brief reference to his m­arriage in his autobiography offers remark­ able insight into the life of his wife: “For almost a quarter of a century she has borne my infirmities, and I have rejoiced in her graces” (Coolidge, 1929: 93). Although the legacy of Grace Coolidge is largely silenced today due to her marriage to “Silent Cal,” the nation’s first lady during the Roaring Twenties was a beloved public figure known for her cheerful personality and her commit­ ment to helping the disadvantaged. Before her marriage, Grace worked as a teacher for the deaf, a cause she continued to support for the rest of her life. During her years as first lady, she visited hospitalized children and helped the needy. Perhaps most impor­ tantly, she was an astute wife who helped cover for her husband’s social awkwardness, tolerated his unusual personality, and—in an effort to support his political career as well as in the interest of marital harmony— largely abided by his rules, which governed her life. Yet Grace maintained her good humor, friendliness, and enthusiasm, q­ualities captured in newspaper photos as she became one of the “most photographed persons on earth outside of movieland,” as The New York Times declared on May 20,

1928 (Williamson, 1928: 74). Even in the depths of tragedy, when Grace’s youngest son, Cal Junior, died in 1924, her resilience and faith became a national example. The nation’s admiration earned her the title of “America’s Best‐Known and Best‐Loved Wife and Mother” from Good Housekeeping in 1931. Yet it is the unknown about Grace Coolidge that is perhaps the most intriguing. During her long widowhood, Grace d­iscarded Calvin’s rules and lived the active and modern life she desired, leaving history to wonder what influence she could have had on the first ladyship if she had been allowed to fully be herself. Biographers have taken considerable interest in the Coolidges’ marriage, debat­ ing how happy Grace was during her nearly three‐decade relationship with Calvin. Historians also present mixed views about her importance to Calvin’s career and about her overall legacy, although they agree her level of political influence and political knowledge was not of the same magnitude as that of her immediate predecessors. Few give attention to Grace’s life after Calvin, despite the significant changes she made and her continued focus on community s­ervice. Yet all authors can agree that Grace

A Companion to First Ladies, First Edition. Edited by Katherine A. S. Sibley. © 2016 John Wiley & Sons, Inc. Published 2016 by John Wiley & Sons, Inc.



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brought a warmth and personal touch to the White House that made her an admirable first lady. This chapter will first provide a biographical sketch and then explore some of the scholarly debate over her life and legacy. “America’s Best‐Known and Best‐Loved Wife and Mother” Grace Anna Goodhue was born in 1879 in Burlington, Vermont, to Andrew Goodhue and Lemira Barrett. Married nine years by the time their daughter arrived, the Goodhues doted over their only child; Grace wrote in her autobiography that the “sun, moon, and stars, in the opinion of my parents, revolved about my infant head” (Coolidge, 1992: 3). Her father worked as an engineer at a cotton mill and was one in a line of descendants who arrived in America from England in 1635. His daughter inher­ ited his cheerful personality (Ross, 1962). However, Grace spent much of her childhood with her reserved mother, later remembering that “what she did, I did; where she went, I went; her friends were my friends” (Coolidge, 1992: 5). Yet it was an incident involving her father that foreshadowed Grace’s path to the White House. When Grace was four, a piece of wood struck her father in the face at the cotton mill. To keep their home quiet while he recovered, Grace briefly lived with the neighboring Yale family. She idolized June, that family’s oldest daughter, and later recalled: “I thought that everything she said and did was absolutely perfect and tried to be as much like her as possible” (Coolidge, 1992: 10). June Yale worked at the Clarke School for the Deaf in Northampton, Massachusetts, where her aunt Caroline served as the school’s principal and where Grace would eventually meet Calvin Coolidge. Growing up, Grace was fascinated by the children whom June brought to Vermont during the summer and by the work she was doing to help them

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communicate (Coolidge, 1992). Like her role model, young Grace wanted to work with these children when she grew up. After graduating high school and serving as commencement speaker in 1897, Grace became one among the few women at the time to enroll in college. Her father now worked as a government inspector of steam­ boats, providing the financial support for her continued education at the University of Vermont in Burlington—the same college that June Yale had attended (Coolidge, 1992). However, a few months into the semester, Grace withdrew for health r­easons. She reenrolled in the fall of 1898 and liter­ ally learned a life lesson in one of her courses that year. After turning in a paper titled “Life,” she received her assignment back with a remark from her professor that she never forgot: “I suggest that you refrain from writing upon this subject until you have had more experience” (Coolidge, 1992: 54). This introduction to college life didn’t dampen the spirit that Grace would be known for throughout her entire life, however. During college, she quickly estab­ lished a reputation as a “lively extrovert with an unquenchable taste for good times, an infectious laugh, and the knack of endearing herself to others” (Ross, 1962: 4). She helped organize the university’s Pi Beta Phi sorority, establishing a group of friends she would correspond with throughout her life (Edwards, 2004). She also maintained her passion for help­ ing children who were deaf. Still determined to follow in the footsteps of her childhood idol June, Grace contacted Caroline Yale during her senior year of college and discov­ ered that there was an opening for her at the school for the deaf in Northampton. Lemira Goodhue was not pleased that her daughter planned to move away from home rather than teach public school in Burlington (Coolidge, 1992). But Grace was deter­ mined to work at the deaf school, the first in the country to emphasize the need to main­ stream these students into society and to

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teach them to speak and to read lips (Ferrell, 2008). From 1902 to 1905, Grace pursued her childhood dream of working as a school­ teacher. During her second year of teaching, however, a walk outside to water flowers on the school grounds changed her life’s direction. Looking up toward the window of a neighboring house, Grace saw a man who was shaving while dressed in a hat and long underwear. Amused by this attire, she started laughing, catching the attention of the unsuspecting man (Ross, 1962). Determined to explain himself, Calvin Coolidge asked his landlord to help arrange an introduction. Calvin told Grace that he wore the hat to keep a lock of hair in place while he shaved (Ross, 1962). In his auto­ biography, Calvin explained that the couple “seemed naturally to come to care for each other” after their introduction in 1904 (Coolidge, 1929: 93). But, in the eyes of Grace’s friends and family, the two couldn’t have been more mismatched. Seven years older than Grace, Calvin Coolidge had grown up in Plymouth Notch, Vermont. Despite descending from a long line of farmers, he attended Amherst College and remained in Massachusetts, in order to become a lawyer (Coolidge, 1929). Following in the footsteps of his father, Calvin also worked to establish a political career, serving as a city council member, city solicitor, clerk of courts, and chairman of the Republican City Committee during his bachelor years (Coolidge, 1929). He and Grace attended a republican rally at city hall for their first date—an early indication that Calvin’s political life would play a dominant role in their relationship (Coolidge, 1992). Although Calvin was professionally accomplished, his personality raised con­ cerns for Grace’s friends and her mother. Later nicknamed “Silent Cal,” he was “quiet, austere, deliberate, uncommunica­ tive, and sometimes glum,” while Grace was “warm, friendly, outgoing, gregarious, and cheerful” (Boller, 1988: 254). During their

engagement, Grace took Calvin to visit one of her friends. He said nothing during the entire visit, prompting her friend to express fear of him (Ferrell, 2008). Lemira Goodhue did her best to prevent her daughter from marrying that “dour, uncommunicative young man” (Harris, 2005: 453), who pro­ posed to Grace by saying: “I am going to be married to you” (Boller, 1988: 255). However, Grace understood Calvin’s humor and the reserved and hardworking Vermont values he embodied (Boller, 1988). Although she acknowledged their “vastly different temperaments and tastes” (Coolidge, 1992: 32), shortly before her wedding Grace wrote to her friend Ivah Gale and explained her feelings for Calvin: “He is quiet and doesn’t say much but what he does say amounts to something. That’s one thing I like about him” (quoted in Bittinger, 2005: 17). For his part, Calvin loved Grace’s warm personality, and his let­ ters to her illustrated “a passion and intensity of feeling that was rarely, if ever, shown in public” (Harris, 2005: 452). On October 4, 1905 Calvin Coolidge and Grace Goodhue were married in a small ceremony in the Goodhue home. Then twenty‐six, Grace soon discovered that Calvin had his own ideas of what it meant for her to be his wife. Despite the political nature of their first date, Grace was largely absent from Calvin’s political life until his rise to the vice presi­ dency. Soon after their marriage, she dressed to attend one of Calvin’s speeches. He asked her where she was going. When she said she planned to go to his event, he replied: “Better not” (Boller, 1988: 256). After that Grace remained at home, to focus on her duties as wife and mother, learning news of her husband’s career through others, since he did not discuss political issues with her (Ross, 1962). Despite her college degree, a rarity for women at the time, Calvin did not respect her education. Grace herself com­ mented upon this. She could not answer when Calvin asked her what year Martin Luther was born, and she recalled his



grace coolidge

response: “Didn’t they teach you anything where you went to school?” Later on she wondered whether Calvin would have included her more in his career if she “had been of a more serious turn of mind” (Coolidge, 1960: 65). However, the Coolidges did share a sense of humor and liked to tease each other. Grace recalled their days as newlyweds, when Calvin came home with 52 pairs of socks in need of repair. She asked if he had only married her to fix his socks. “He replied quite seriously, ‘No, but I find it mighty handy,’” she later recorded (Coolidge, 1960: 64). On another occasion, Grace real­ ized she’d made a mistake by buying an expensive book of medical advice from a salesman. She decided not to tell Calvin and left the book out without a word. She later found a note from her husband about her error: “This work suggests no cure for a sucker” (Fuess, 1940: 91). Calvin also liked to poke fun at his wife’s cooking. One even­ ing he invited two of her friends to try Grace’s apple pie. After watching them eat, he asked: “Don’t you think the road com­ missioner would be willing to pay my wife something for her recipe for pie crust?” (Coolidge, 1960: 65). Grace teased her hus­ band right back, mimicking his voice and commenting on his silent social skills (Boller, 1988). During their White House years, Calvin wondered one morning why their guests were late for breakfast. Knowing that Calvin hadn’t said a word to them the e­vening before, Grace replied that they were “exhausted by your conversation last e­vening” (Miller, 2001: 265). Aware that they brought different personalities to the marriage, the Coolidges used humor as a way to overcome this, as Grace “never failed to pick up on his jokes, and he was amused by hers” (Ross, 1962: 27). Both Coolidges also appreciated the s­ imple life. During their early years in Northampton, the couple lived frugally, going so far as to buy their sheets, table linen, and knives from a hotel that went out

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of business rather than purchasing new ones (Coolidge, 1992). The only area where Calvin splurged was on Grace’s wardrobe, as he took great pleasure in his wife’s appear­ ance (Caroli, 1997). Within two years of their marriage, however, and over the course of the next thirteen years, the Coolidges were frequently separated as a result of Calvin’s rising political career and his insist­ ence that Grace remain home in Northampton rather than move to Boston with him (Ross, 1962). In 1907 and 1908 Calvin served in the Massachusetts House of Representatives. As his young family expanded with the births of two sons, John (1906–2000) and Calvin Junior (1908– 1924), Calvin left the legislature to resume his law practice back in Northampton. His return home was short‐lived, however, as he won election to the Massachusetts Senate in 1911, after serving two years as Northampton’s mayor. His career steadily climbed from that point on: he had four years in the Senate and three as lieutenant governor before winning the governorship in 1918 (Coolidge, 1929; Wildman, 1934). Because Grace was so removed from Calvin’s daily life, much of her early married life revolved around their two boys. Although Calvin came home on breaks and at week­ ends, Grace was often a single parent left to build tents and a playhouse with the boys and to teach them baseball, a sport she loved (Ross, 1962). Devoted to her children, she gave them her all, as she knew of “no invest­ ment which yields such large and satisfac­ tory returns” (Coolidge, 1992: 41). Discussing Calvin’s frequent absences while the boys were growing up, Grace seemed to understand his duty to service before family, as she made the point that “their father sacrificed much in devoting himself so d­iligently to his public duties that he was unable to be with them as much as he would have liked” (Coolidge, 1992: 41). During these Northampton years, Grace was involved in her Congregational church and enjoyed sewing and knitting (Miller, 2001).

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She occasionally attended social events, p­articularly during Calvin’s years as mayor and governor. As there was no governor’s mansion at the time and Calvin continued to prefer that Grace and the boys remain in Northampton, Calvin lived in a hotel during his governorship and Grace only traveled to Boston for special occasions (Coolidge, 1992). Even with Grace’s limited political role, her friendliness and outgoing personal­ ity helped offset her husband’s aloofness in social situations and provided stability for him at home, one biographer noting that he could never have risen so high in politics without her (Ferrell, 2008). As discussed in more detail below, historians are still debating Grace’s political impact. In 1920 the Coolidges received a phone call that changed the direction of their lives once again. Calvin’s handling of the Boston police strike in his capacity as governor of Massachusetts had garnered national atten­ tion in the previous year, when he declared that “there is no right to strike against the public safety by anybody, anytime, a­ nywhere” (Coolidge, 1929: 134). His leadership caught the attention of national Republicans, who selected him as Warren G. Harding’s running mate in the 1920 presi­ dential election. Grace initially thought that Calvin was joking when he brought her the news. When he said he was serious, she replied: “You are not going to accept it, are you?” But Calvin told her that he had to (Ferrell, 2008: 44). In her autobiography, Grace explained that she had looked for­ ward to being reunited as a family, once Calvin’s second term as governor ended. However, as a woman of faith, she viewed this change of course as God’s plan and wrote that “in labor which is worthwhile there is a corresponding degree of sacrifice” (Coolidge, 1992: 52). On November 2, 1920, Grace accompanied her husband to the polls, the first election after the ratifica­ tion of the Nineteenth Amendment, which gave women aged twenty‐one and older the right to vote. With 60 percent of the

public’s vote, the Coolidges were on their way to Washington. Grace compared her anxiety over assuming the role of vice president’s wife to a college freshman arriving at school for the first time. She wondered whether she would fit in and hoped, like the college student, that “some kindly person will take him in charge and give him a bit of advice, help him get adjusted and start him right” (Coolidge, 1992: 54). She was concerned about her lack of society training and noted that she was “more proficient in setting up and o­perating miniature tracks and trains on the dining room floor [for her sons] than in receiving and entertaining guests in the drawing room” (Coolidge, 1992: 56). The vice president was not provided housing at that time, and the Coolidges declined financial assistance for a Washington home from a political supporter (Fuess, 1940). Calvin and Grace settled instead into the Willard Hotel, taking over the rooms previously used by Vice President Thomas Marshall and his wife Lois. The Coolidge boys, both young teenagers at the time, were ultimately sent to boarding school in Pennsylvania (Ross, 1962). Without her children or her pets, Grace befriended mice at the hotel (Coolidge, 1992) to help fill the motherly void, although her new involve­ ment in her husband’s career increasingly kept her occupied. As outsiders to the national political scene, the Coolidges were initially looked upon with skepticism by Washington socialites, who assumed them to be “rustic boors” (Boller, 1988: 259). However, Grace quickly won over Washington society with her bubbly person­ ality. Calvin’s pride in his wife is evident in a letter to his father where he notes that Grace was “wonderfully popular here. I don’t know what I would do without her” (Fuess, 1940: 287). The Coolidges dined out often, Grace impressing dignitaries and continuing to cover for her husband’s awkward social skills (Ross, 1962). The Coolidges’ relations with the Hardings weren’t quite as



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personable, however. Although Calvin was the first vice president invited to attend Cabinet meetings, Warren Harding found little other use for him. Meanwhile Florence Harding is said to have grown irate when a vice presidential residence was proposed: she declared that she would lobby against providing a mansion for the Coolidges (Ferrell, 2008). Calvin and Grace continued to live at the Willard Hotel, and the vice pres­ ident remained without an official r­esidence until 1974. The Coolidges were kind to Florence Harding, however, and she would soon appreciate their thoughtfulness in the face of personal tragedy (Coolidge, 1992). In the summer of 1923 the Coolidges were visiting Calvin’s father in Vermont, while the Hardings crossed North America on a speaking tour. The Coolidges knew that the president had been taken ill but believed that he would recover. Shortly after midnight on August 3, however, the news of Warren Harding’s death arrived at their door. Calvin was now president. With Grace by his side and by the light of an oil lamp, Calvin Coolidge stood before his father at 2:47 a.m. and took the oath of office in the farmhouse where he grew up (Ross, 1962). Calvin and Grace Coolidge were headed for the White House, but they graciously allowed Florence Harding to spend nearly a week attending to her affairs there before they took over. When Grace first arrived in Washington in 1921, she wondered whether she was prepared for what the next four years would bring (Coolidge, 1992). Two and a half years later, she found herself the nation’s first lady at the age of forty‐four and felt the responsibility of her new duties. It is difficult to describe my feelings at this time. There was a sense of detachment— this was I and yet not I, this was the wife of the president of the United States and she took precedence over me; my personal likes and dislikes must be subordinated to the consideration of those things which were required of her. (Coolidge, 1992: 62)

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Calvin played a large role in this subordi­ nation, creating a long list of activities that Grace was not allowed to do as first lady: dance in public, drive, fly in an airplane, bob her hair, wear culottes, conduct interviews, or assume any political role (Ross, 1962). Her first horseback‐riding lesson became her last when her husband read about it in the newspaper. “I think you will find that you will get along at this job fully as well if you do not try anything new,” Calvin informed his wife (Coolidge, 1960: 70). Unlike predecessors Nellie Taft, Edith Wilson, and Florence Harding, Grace remained as uninvolved in her husband’s political life during her time as first lady as she had in the past twenty years. When she asked Calvin for more notice of activities she was expected to attend to as first lady, he replied: “We don’t give out that informa­ tion promiscuously” (Fuess, 1940: 490). This attitude required her to adapt her schedule to his own at the last minute. Grace typically received news about Calvin’s career from Frank Stearns, a Boston department store owner who had long supported Calvin’s rise in politics and now served as assistant to the president. Frank and his wife Emily were close to the entire Coolidge family, and Grace relied on them and on assistant White House physician Joel Boone for support (Bittinger, 2005). Anthony (1990: 394) noted that Calvin “wanted Grace to say or do nothing that would have repercussions on his career.” In a CSPAN interview, Amity Shlaes (2013) suggests that Calvin was adamant about avoiding scandal and controversy in order to main­ tain the political capital necessary for pass­ ing laws, and this included keeping controversy out of his personal life. The scandals associated with Cabinet officials who served in the Harding administration, which Congress as well as the Supreme Court investigated during the Coolidge term, no doubt made him even more a­nxious to serve as an example of spotless probity. Coolidge was also sensitive to the

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legacy of ruffled feathers left over from prior first ladies’ having too much control in the White House, as discussed further below. Despite the restrictions in her life, Grace maintained her humor and friendliness and carried on as a traditional first lady c­onsumed with domestic duties and focused on social events—as well as serving as a humanizer for her taciturn husband. Her warmth and charm won over even Alice Roosevelt Longworth, who was known in Washington for her sharp tongue (Brough, 1975). The American public also came to love the first lady, who was often photographed with her pets or hugging children (Caroli, 1997; see Figure  23.1). Besides dogs Rob Roy and Prudence Prim, raccoon Rebecca became a

favorite of both the Coolidges and the media. Initially sent for their Thanksgiving dinner, Rebecca was instead added to the household pets. The Coolidges let Rebecca have the run of the White House, a policy that did not go terribly well with the staff (Ross, 1962). However, a tragic event in the summer of 1924 had perhaps the greatest influence on the public’s love for Grace. At the White House for a visit, sixteen‐year‐old Cal Junior developed a blister on his foot after playing tennis without socks. His foot quickly became infected, which resulted in blood poisoning. On July 7, 1924, within a week of the tennis match, Cal Junior died. Calvin took his son’s death the hardest and blamed

Figure 23.1  Girls Nan Norton, Elizabeth Ann Taylor, and Margaret Cooley present Mrs. Coolidge with basket of flowers as part of ceremonies for “May Day is child health day.” Source: National Photo Company Collection, Library of Congress.



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himself, reasoning that Cal would not have been playing tennis if his father weren’t in the White House. “In his suffering, he was asking me to make him well. I could not,” Calvin wrote in his autobiography. “When he went, the power and the glory of the presidency went with him” (Coolidge, 1929: 190). Grace relied on her faith and memories of her son throughout her loss and received thousands of letters express­ ing sympathy from the American public. The Coolidges retreated to Vermont, to the house of Calvin’s father, to grieve and be close to Cal Junior’s grave (Ross, 1962). Their official duties remained, however, as well as the reality of an e­ l ection year, and the Coolidges soon resumed their responsibilities. With her husband elected in his own right in 1924, and for the remainder of her White House years, Grace received praise for her performance as first lady and one declaration that she was worth $1 million a year to the Republican Party for her grace and charm (Ross, 1962). Although she did not wear the controversial flapper fashions of the day, her stylish wardrobe courtesy of Calvin attracted favorable attention, as did her devotion to baseball and attendance at ballgames (Miller, 2001). She also raised awareness of the hearing‐impaired by i­nviting Clarke students and other people who were deaf, including Helen Keller, to the White House. Getting around Calvin’s “no interviews” rule, she amused women reporters by giving a speech in sign language (Anthony, 1990). Despite the Coolidges’ careful public relations strategy, Grace was not immune to rumors about her personal life. In 1925 baby blankets, clothes, and toys began arriv­ ing at the White House from members of the public convinced she was pregnant (Anthony, 1990). Her marriage to Calvin was also questioned, particularly after a vacation to the Black Hills in South Dakota in 1927, when Grace got lost while on a hike with secret service agent Jim Haley.

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Calvin, who was anxious about his wife’s safety when she did not return as expected, fired Haley. The event made newspaper headlines, and Calvin was labeled a jealous husband. Rumors abounded that Grace would divorce him after they left the White House (Miller, 2001). Realizing the toll the presidency was having on both himself and his wife, Calvin announced in 1927 that he would not seek another term in office. In typical fashion, he did not tell Grace when he made the announcement, leaving her to find out from a senator (Ross, 1962). Regardless, Grace was ready for their return to Northampton in March 1929. Grace’s legacy as first lady continued beyond the White House, however. Good Housekeeping put her name on its list of America’s 12 greatest living women in 1931. The list also included Helen Keller and Willa Cather. Grace’s story ran under the headline “America’s Best‐Known and Best‐Loved Wife and Mother.” She also received honorary degrees from Smith College and the University of Vermont (Ross, 1962). Although she was not involved in Calvin’s political life, her support of her husband at home—particularly after the deaths of Cal Junior and of Calvin’s father— and her popularity in political circles are viewed as crucial components of his admin­ istration. She used her position as first lady to support a $2‐million fundraising campaign for the Clarke School for the Deaf and brought the public’s attention to veterans and children’s causes (Bittinger, 2005). Returning to private life, the Coolidges moved back to their old home in Northampton and tried to resume their old routines. Grace rejoined her local church and kept busy with Red Cross work and other women’s activities in town (White, 1938). In 1929 the Coolidges set off for a vacation across the country, from Florida to New Orleans to California, where they stayed at William Randolph Hearst’s castle and mingled with movie stars (Ross, 1962). After returning home, they celebrated the

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wedding of their surviving son John, now twenty‐three, to Florence Trumbull, d­ aughter of Connecticut’s governor. The presidency still lingered over their private lives, however, as curious tourists frequently stopped by their home. In the spring of 1930, Calvin and Grace left their old home behind and moved to the Beeches, a home on eight acres that provided them with more privacy (Ross, 1962). Both Coolidges settled into writing careers, Grace writing about her time as first lady and submitting poetry to newspapers and magazines. However, their time together was short‐lived, as Calvin’s health, already suffering, contin­ ued to fail. On January 5, 1933, Grace returned home from shopping, went to call Calvin for lunch, and found him dead: he had succumbed at the age of sixty to coronary thrombosis while she was out. After twenty‐ seven years of marriage and less than four years into their retirement, Grace Coolidge was a widow at the age of fifty‐four. Calvin’s unexpected death left Grace in charge of her own life, a prospect that ini­ tially unsettled her. “I am just a lost soul,” she told a friend after Calvin’s death. “Nobody is going to believe how I miss being told what to do” (Ross, 1962: 29). Gradually she began forming her own life, which included partaking in activities from the list of things she had not been allowed to do before. She bobbed her hair, learned to drive, and flew in an airplane. She also moved into a smaller home, Road Forks, still in Northampton. Although she did not become overtly political, she voiced her sup­ port for the United States’ involvement in World War II and contributed to the cause by raising money to bring refugees to the United States. She also helped the Red Cross during the war and donated the use of Road Forks to a captain charged with train­ ing a Women Accepted for Volunteer Emergency Service (WAVES) unit (Ferrell, 2008). She returned to her home after the war, but also occasionally lived with friends during her widowhood.

She remained close to her son John and his family, which now included granddaugh­ ters Cynthia and Lydia, and traveled along the East Coast and to Europe with her friend Florence Adams. Her adventures with Florence sparked amusing stories— such as the one in which a Swiss hotel employee thought that she was Mary Todd Lincoln, or those about her efforts to hide from reporters while on a hiking trip in North Carolina. A rumor had started that Grace planned to marry Everett Sanders, who had served as Calvin’s White House secretary. Although there was merit to Sanders’s interest in Grace, she chose not to remarry. For the remainder of her life, Grace maintained her interest in the Clarke School for the Deaf, serving on its board of trustees and assisting in fundraising. She also remained an avid baseball fan and attended games or listened to the radio. After years of declining health, Grace died on July 8, 1957, at the age of seventy‐eight, shortly after a visit from her son and a day after the thirty‐third anniversary of Cal Junior’s death. Grace was committed to her husband until the end: one of her final wishes was for Calvin’s birthplace to be donated to the state of Vermont (Ross, 1962). Plymouth Notch continues to serve as a tribute to Calvin Coolidge today, a final show of s­ upport from the loyal wife who largely remained behind the scenes during his lifetime in politics. Marriage, Politics, and Widowhood: The Varying History of Grace Throughout history, the story of Grace Coolidge’s marriage has ranged from hap­ pily wedded bliss to a tolerated and tested union. Similarly, the narrative pertaining to the significance of her political influence depends upon who is telling the story. And some historians simply ignore that Grace led a significantly different and full life during her twenty‐four‐year widowhood.



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Examining the changing history of Grace Coolidge illustrates that the process of w­riting history is indeed a story in itself. A marriage of “vastly different temperaments” Biographers writing about the Coolidges place considerable emphasis on the unusual­ ness of the couple’s marriage. When Calvin and Grace married in 1905, both were older than the typical marrying partners of their time. Calvin was thirty‐three, while Grace was twenty‐six. However, little emphasis is placed on the Coolidges’ ages. Instead, authors have focused on how two people with such different personalities formed a relationship that lasted for twenty‐eight years. Coolidge historians are fortunate that both Calvin and Grace wrote autobiogra­ phies, although there was a significant time lapse between their respective publications. Calvin’s autobiography was released in 1929, soon after his leaving the White House, thus providing scholars with i­mmediate access to the former president’s writings about his political career and life. Following the book’s release, the Pittsburgh Press noted that it was “about half the size of the average novel” (“Coolidge Is Terse in Autobiography,” 1929). Writing in the Florence (Ala.) Times‐News, Bruce Catton described the autobiography as “a plain, unvarnished record of the facts—or, rather, a record of such facts as were already public knowledge. He adds nothing to our knowl­ edge of the stirring events that marked his terms as governor and president” (Catton, 1929). In other words, the book reflected Calvin: concise and reserved. Grace’s c­omplete autobiography, on the other hand, remained unpublished until 1992; its publi­ cation offered more recent authors an opportunity to reexamine the Coolidges’ lives. Although Calvin’s book made only a brief comment about his personal life, s­ cholars can gain some insight into his

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relationship with Grace. Discussing their courtship, Calvin wrote that they “seemed naturally to come to care for each other” and “thought we were made for each other,” although he hinted at their differences by noting that “she has borne with my infirmi­ ties and I have rejoiced in her graces” (Coolidge, 1929: 93). Grace was more c­andid about their personality differences in her autobiography: seldom had a wedding “united two people of more vastly different temperaments and tastes,” she remarked (Coolidge, 1992: 32). From early bio­ graphies until the present, authors have con­ tinued to focus on contrasting the personalities of Calvin and Grace Coolidge, in addition to examining the role of humor in their relationship and how happy their marriage really was. One of the first examinations of the Coolidge marriage was published within a year of Calvin’s death. In 1934 Edwin Wildman wrote a chapter about Calvin in his book Famous Leaders of Character in America. Wildman noted that “no story of Calvin Coolidge is complete or accurate without emphasizing the exceptional quali­ ties of his wife” (Widman, 1934: 329). Like other biographers in the future, Wildman wrote of Grace’s charm and popularity. He also wrote about the Coolidges’ opposing personalities and was among the first authors to allude to the patience required of Grace to make the marriage work. He highlighted how understanding she was with Calvin’s abruptness and how it “neither offended nor surprised her” (1934: 331), a point that future biographers would begin to question. The book chapter is noteworthy for touch­ ing upon themes that would be important in the literature that succeeded it. However, later works are much more comprehensive and therefore are of greater use to Grace Coolidge biographers. Four years after Wildman’s book, jour­ nalist and biographer William Allen White released one of the first full biographies about Calvin: A Puritan in Babylon (White,

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1938), which was a follow‐up to his 1925 book Calvin Coolidge: The Man Who Is President. The more recent book offers one of the most flattering accounts of the Coolidges’ marriage and, it should be noted, was released when Grace Coolidge was still alive. White dismissed earlier newspaper reports that questioned the happiness of the marriage during the White House years, calling the press accounts “cruel and groundless” (White, 1938: 365). He high­ lighted the Coolidges’ devotion to each other, stating that “no more affectionate or dutiful husband ever came into the White House than Calvin Coolidge. And the presi­ dent’s pride in her [Grace] was beautiful to see” (1938: 256). To further illustrate Calvin’s devotion, White mentions one of the last letters that Grace received from him before his death. While on a trip to New York, Calvin wrote to his wife: “I have thought of you all the time since I left home” (quoted in White, 1938: 438). As for Grace, she “had the tolerance of an understanding heart” (White, 1938: 65) for a “moody” man who did not value her edu­ cation or talk to her about his career: She understood him and still loved him. She knew he kept a mistress—politics— and that as his wife she had the deep, dependable loyalty of the man who trifles rather idly, but always turns homeward for courage, if not for wisdom, at least for s­olace. (White, 1938: 62)

Although biographers should be wary of White’s gushing heroics of the Coolidge marriage, his book is notable for its inclu­ sion of the Coolidges’ humor with each other, an aspect of their marriage that future biographers would also emphasize. It benefits from White’s journalistic inter­ views with Calvin during his presidency as well as from his interviews with a number of Calvin’s contemporaries. White includes enough material about Grace Coolidge for his book to be relevant to her

biographers—particularly in his “by way of the preface,” where he shares his p­ersonal experiences with her. A critical source for any Grace Coolidge biographer is Ishbel Ross’s (1962) biogra­ phy of her, which is titled Grace Coolidge and Her Era: The Story of a President’s Wife. Published five years after Grace’s death, this is the first biography focused on Grace and remains one in a handful of full‐length Grace Coolidge biographies. Ross had the cooperation of John and Florence Coolidge as well as that of a number of Grace’s con­ temporaries, including her friends Florence Adams and Ivah Gale. As a result, Ross ben­ efited from primary access to personal mem­ ories, letters, and photos, which she used in conjunction with personal papers from notable figures in Grace’s life as well as with newspaper accounts from that period. Ross provides valuable insight into the Coolidge marriage. After typical observations about Grace’s friendly personality and Calvin’s austerity, Ross (1962: 9–10) writes that “reserve and taciturnity were native qualities to a Vermonter.” This serves as a rationaliza­ tion of why Grace would consider marrying Calvin: “Miss Goodhue, after all, was a Vermonter. She was used to the unemo­ tional approach and had grown up with people spare of speech, undemonstrative by nature” (Ross, 1962: 12). Ross also points to the “basic sincerity and high principles” (1962: 27) of both Coolidges and to Calvin’s devotion to Grace. She includes Calvin’s letter of 1932, which White cited: “I have thought of you all the time since I left home” (1962: 13). As for Grace, “she never underestimated the depth and conti­ nuity of his devotion” (1962: 27). Ross also writes about the importance that humor played in the Coolidges’ relationship, not­ ing that humor was “one of the bonds that sweetened their life together” (1962: 27). The author treads carefully on the issues arising from the Coolidges’ personality dif­ ferences. Although Grace “never ques­ tioned” (1962: 25) that her role was in the



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home, Ross delicately states that Grace may not have been as accepting of Calvin’s numerous rules as is believed, specifically regarding the bans on her bobbing her hair, riding on horseback, driving, or flying: “Those who knew Mrs. Coolidge intimately felt that there were times when the compro­ mises she had to make must have hurt” (1962: 94). Whether influenced by the times or out of sensitivity to John Coolidge, who provided significant help for the book, Ross kept her own commentary on the Coolidges’ m­arriage problems to a minimum. For the next forty years, additional bio­ graphies of Grace Coolidge were generally limited to books that featured brief chapters about each US first lady. These authors were more apt to criticize Calvin’s behavior and to point to how it affected Grace. For e­xample, in 1988, Paul Boller Junior wrote that Grace usually remained good‐natured when her husband was irritable, “but some­ times she became seriously upset, and took a long walk or plunged into vigorous knitting to keep herself in control” (Boller, 1988: 261). However, commentary on issues in the Coolidges’ marriage was generally brief and offset by stories of their humor and of how they made their marriage work. In his chapter on Grace, Boller went on to write that “Mrs. Coolidge never remained angry for long. She knew that her husband adored her and that in his own quiet way he tried to make his love clear to her just about every day” (1988: 262). Similarly, first lady scholar Betty Caroli wrote in the 1997 edition of her First Ladies that “Calvin’s choice of a political career almost certainly limited his wife’s actions” and that Grace’s portrait painter saw “a look of resignation” in her face (Caroli, 1997: 205). Yet Caroli also noted that Grace fol­ lowed her husband’s rules “in the manner of an obedient child” (1997: 202) and “appeared to accept with equanimity” her husband’s frugality and awkward social skills. First lady historian Carl Sferrazza Anthony was more critical in his 1990 book

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and wrote that Calvin “often attempted to repress Grace’s exuberance” and that Grace was not always accepting of Calvin’s rules: “A friend of the first lady’s … claimed she detected a strain in Grace’s attempts to keep things amicable in her relationship with the president” (Anthony, 1990: 400). As the distance between the Coolidge era and Coolidge authors increased, the story of the Coolidges’ marriage began to evolve and reflect more complexity than that of just a devoted husband and doting wife. After decades of limited biographical works, interest in Grace Coolidge revived toward the end of the first decade of the new millennium with two full biographies released within three years of each other. In 2005 the executive director of the Calvin Coolidge Memorial Foundation, Cynthia Bittinger, produced Grace Coolidge: Sudden Star. Bittinger is among the last of the Coolidge authors to receive support from the immediate Coolidge family, as both John Coolidge and his surviving daughter Lydia died in the early years of the twenty‐ first century. Bittinger also benefitted from her easy access to historical papers, new donations of Coolidge‐related letters to the foundation’s archive, the publication of Grace’s autobiography a decade earlier, and a number of secondary sources published since the Ross book was released. However, the evident favorable bias toward the Coolidges, the use of exclamation points, and the brevity of the book give it the appearance of a public relations piece and detract from the valuable primary source material used. Unsurprisingly, the book illustrates a marriage in which Grace is described as “a happy wife devoted to her husband’s success” (Bittinger, 2005: 22) while Calvin “adored his wife” (2005: 57). Still, the book offers new insight into the Coolidge marriage via the letter in the Ivah Gale Collection noted above that explains Grace’s feelings toward Calvin: “He is quiet and doesn’t say much but what he does say amounts to something. That’s one thing I

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like about him” (2005: 17). This additional material is enlightening, even though the book as a whole lacks depth on this topic. Scholars who wish to pursue study of the Coolidges should browse Bittinger’s acknowledgments and bibliography for more information on the new sources that she used. Besides the Ross book, historian Robert Ferrell’s (2008) Grace Coolidge: The People’s Lady in Silent Cal’s White House is a critical read for Grace Coolidge scholars. The bib­ liographical essay alone provides invaluable guidance to future researchers. The book also offers the most critical examination of the Coolidges’ marriage undertaken in any Grace Coolidge biography. Historian Lewis Gould opens the subject immediately in the editor’s foreword :

their marriage was not easy, although it improved once they returned to Massachusetts after Calvin’s retirement from politics. Ferrell’s book took by far the most critical look at the Coolidges’ marriage. The author noted that he had benefited from the opening of the Boone papers at the Library of Congress in 1995. With his biography of Grace, Ferrell opened the door for future Coolidge biographers willing to reexamine the couple’s relationship. Indeed Amity Shlaes’s biography of Calvin, simply called Coolidge, offered a similar perspective by discussing “the t­ensions between” Calvin and Grace during their White House years (Shlaes, 2013: 385). Shlaes, too, wrote there was improve­ ment in their relationship after the Coolidges returned home for retirement:

[Ferrell’s] use of the [White House physi­ cian] Joel T. Boone papers shows that Calvin Coolidge tested the patience and resolve of his wife and son John on many occasions. There were even moments when the couple might have divorced. Yet Ferrell also recognizes the bonds that held these two people together … the book is notable for presenting a much more subtle and intelligent look at the Coolidges and their relationship in the public eye. (Ferrell, 2008: vii)

When the Coolidges stepped off the train, Grace later recalled, they realized that the office of the presidency had separated them. He was no longer ‘the president,’ as she had referred to him so often. He was suddenly Calvin again. And his being Calvin made her Grace. (Shlaes, 2013: 436)

Like prior Grace biographers, Ferrell shared the typical Coolidge stories about their differing personalities yet similar sense of humor. However, as stated in Gould’s foreword, Ferrell veered sharply from prior authors, who either insisted that the Coolidges’ marriage was rosy or mentioned problems only briefly. Early in the book Ferrell wrote that “Grace never adjusted” (Ferrell, 2008: 33) to the marriage; he also described Calvin as “hot tempered in private, insistent on his way, on occasion thoughtless of his even‐tempered wife. He was difficult to live with” (2008: 34). After Cal Junior died, their relationship suffered additional strain, Ferrell wrote. He concluded that, overall,

Shlaes, a trustee of the Calvin Coolidge Memorial Foundation, provided scattered references to strain in the Coolidge m­arriage throughout her book. Although on the whole the book offers little new insight into Grace Coolidge, since its focus is on Calvin, it is important for scholars to note the c­ urrent development of a trend toward t­aking a far more critical look at tensions within the Coolidges’ marriage. No discussion of the Coolidge marriage is complete without a reference to the inci­ dent in South Dakota during the summer of 1927 that prompted Calvin to fire Grace’s secret service agent, Jim Haley. Biographers have explained this episode in different ways, although none suggests that Grace’s relationship with Haley was romantic in nature. Most versions of the story say that the pair simply got lost during their hike.



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However, authors vary in their interpreta­ tion of what the incident said about the state of Grace and Calvin’s marriage. White, one of Coolidge’s early biographers, men­ tioned the press headlines that publicized Calvin’s irritation with Grace over the extended hike. However, he concluded that the criticism made Calvin “realize how unjust he had been, which of course sharp­ ened the edge of his devotion” to Grace (White, 1938: 365). In her biography of Grace, Ross called the press headlines that accused Calvin of being a jealous husband “misleading” (Ross, 1962: 232). She explained that Calvin was afraid that Grace had been attacked by a rattlesnake, thus jus­ tifying his emotional response. She then emphasized that Grace accepted her hus­ band’s rules and decisions: “Mrs. Coolidge never fussed or argued when her husband laid down the law” (1962: 233). In other words, early biographers highlighted the strength of the Coolidges’ marriage and how this incident was just a brief misunder­ standing. Bittinger (2005) of the Calvin Coolidge Memorial Foundation neglected to mention it at all in her biography of Grace. Other authors discuss the longer term effects of the incident. Anthony and Ferrell wrote that Grace did not forget what hap­ pened and believed that Haley was unjustly treated. Anthony (1990) noted that Grace continued to maintain contact with Haley and his wife behind her husband’s back. Ferrell (2008) wrote of the Coolidges’ mar­ riage problems prior to the incident and of how Haley had witnessed Grace’s being “ignored by her husband and sought to cheer her up on walks” (Ferrell, 2008: 111). Ferrell does not suggest that their relation­ ship was anything more than friendship, but he claims that Calvin was likely jealous of his wife’s spending time alone with another man, even though Haley was married. It is important for future Coolidge bio­ graphers to take into account the historiog­ raphy of the Coolidges’ marriage, due to its evolution over time. An analysis of the

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relationship also provides broader insight into the strains placed on marriage during a transitional period in history when women were gaining more freedoms even as many men endorsed Calvin’s views of traditional marital ties. Biographers should also c­ onsider the closeness between the Coolidges throughout their marriage. During its first half, Calvin was often away, to serve in public office in Boston, while Grace remained home in Northampton with their sons; the situation allowed them a fair amount of space from each other. Their years in Washington, however, and Grace’s new role in Calvin’s career meant that the couple spent more time together during the second half of their marriage. Add to this the death of a son, and it should not be s­urprising that the Coolidges faced tension in their relationship during their White House years. Additional scholarship should more closely examine the couple’s relation­ ship to determine whether the latest, more critical perspective in historiography gives us indeed a more accurate representation and whether the full story of the Coolidges’ marriage has been told. “Grace and charm are real assets” Apart from focusing on the Coolidges’ m­arriage, biographers of Calvin and Grace also give considerable attention to Grace’s involvement, or lack thereof, in Calvin’s political career. Following first ladies Nellie Taft, Edith Wilson, and Florence Harding, Grace Coolidge is viewed as a return to the “traditional” first lady who remained far removed from her husband’s work and c­oncentrated on being a wife and a mother. Authors largely agree that Grace’s social personality was a benefit to her husband’s administration. However, biographers differ on the extent of her importance to Calvin’s career and on her legacy as a first lady. Early Coolidge biographers emphasized that Grace’s impact was visible in her

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support of Calvin at home and that she played no role in politics. Wildman (1934: 329) remarked that Grace “has at all times strengthened him by her faith, and at all times aided him by her gracious personality and social tact.” In his biography of Calvin, White also made clear that Grace’s role was one of wifely support: he writes that “Mrs. Coolidge was never a part of the president’s political family” (White, 1938: 256). He pointed to Grace’s own 1935 writing for Good Housekeeping where she emphasized her lack of knowledge about Calvin’s work. For White, Grace’s legacy was her success as White House hostess: according to this author, she “will rank with the most g­racious and most important of wives of the p­residents” as a result (1938: 309). Biographer Claude Fuess, who released Calvin Coolidge: The Man from Vermont in 1940, took a similar stance and believed that Grace helped Calvin by not gossiping, not being vain, subordinating her wishes to his, and being friendly. Fuess was particularly adamant about downplaying Grace’s p­olitical role and contrasted her with Edith Wilson and Florence Harding: Mrs. Coolidge did not discuss government affairs with her husband and certainly made no attempt to influence him in his decisions … Never has a first lady been more discreet, more content to remain in the background, more removed from political intrigue. (Fuess, 1940: 324–325)

In the views of these early Calvin bio­ graphers, Grace’s legacy remained squarely in the home, with her satisfactory fulfillment of hosting duties and of wifely support. Their approaches are illuminating in what they tell us about contemporary views of women’s place. Grace’s biographers, however, tend to give her more credit. Ross (1962) agreed with prior authors in noting that Calvin did not discuss his career with Grace. Yet Ross pointed out that Grace was an important

resource to Calvin’s political life. During her years as second lady, Grace frequently attended dinners at which she visited politi­ cians and diplomats and “sometimes r­escued her husband from social gaffes” (Ross, 1962: 65). As first lady, Grace portrayed “dignity and warmth” (1962: 85) and “spread a certain radiance that soon became manifest as an asset to President Coolidge” (1962: 95). With the passage of time, authors began widening the scope of Grace’s political importance. In 1988, first lady author Diana Dixon Healy noted another way in which Grace benefited her husband’s image: “Rather than making excuses for her husband’s eccentricities, Grace contributed to his reputation as a character by telling amusing stories about him” (Healy, 1988: 171). Boller (1988) also wrote of Grace’s efforts to lighten her husband’s image through humor. One of Grace’s most popu­ lar stories was about a dinner companion who told Calvin that she had a bet she could get him to say more than two words to her. Calvin told the woman: “You lose” (Boller, 1988: 259). However, Boller went beyond Grace’s role as a supporting wife. He also noted the active role that she played as first lady by maintaining a “jampacked” sched­ ule  of attending parades, tree plantings, ­cornerstone‐laying events, luncheons, din­ ners, and Red Cross work. Although Boller (1988: 261) stated that Grace “continued to remain severely aloof from politics” as first lady, he wrote that her popularity helped Calvin win reelection in 1924. As first lady scholarship started to evolve in the 1980s, authors began to frame Grace’s active social s­chedule as political capital and to see more of her individual influence. Anthony (1990) further advanced the discussion of Grace by writing that she did have a political position in the administra­ tion: “Mrs. Coolidge, consciously and unconsciously, played a major public rela­ tions role for the administration by being herself. And, by being apolitical, she was actually beneficial to politics” (Anthony,



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1990: 398). Anthony noted that first ladies ever since have contributed to the public relations of the administration. He also viewed Grace as establishing the first lady’s role as a fashion figure, as well as normaliz­ ing the first lady’s traveling with the presi­ dent. In addition, Anthony noted that Grace’s visits to children’s hospitals and her newspaper photographs with children led to children’s welfare becoming a common concern for future first ladies. As far as Grace’s influence on the presidency goes, Anthony stressed her importance to Calvin’s ability to govern: “He relied heavily upon her presence, and when she was away, he lacked the support he needed and became depressed” (1990: 399). To Anthony, Grace’s political influence and legacy were far greater than what early Coolidge schol­ ars portrayed. Caroli (1997) furthered the conversation by commenting not only upon Grace’s legacy as first lady but upon what her legacy could have been, were it not for Calvin’s rules of conduct. Caroli believed that “a woman with Grace’s spirit might have brought a new dimension to the job of president’s wife but she chose to accede to the wishes of her husband and limit her activities to those her predecessors had made traditional” (Caroli, 1997: 204). Still, Caroli thought that Grace did bring some influence to the position; she claimed that Calvin “profited from her visibility” (1997: 198), as Grace often appeared in newspaper photos with children or her pets. Caroli remarked that Grace’s “exuberance generated so many stories that the public felt an acquaintance with her as with few other first ladies” (1997: 202). Miller (2001) also pointed to the benefits of Grace’s public relations role and viewed her influence on fashion, her support of sports, and her attention to children’s issues as other factors in her legacy as first lady. Most notably, Miller thought that Grace created national attention for people with disabili­ ties and “influenced her husband to work generally for programs to help the

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handicapped” (Miller, 2001: 272). Although early biographers publicized Grace’s lack of involvement with or influ­ ence on Calvin’s political career, more recent historians began to argue that she had a more powerful role than previously construed. Around 2005, however, views of Grace’s political influence waned and some histori­ ans briefly relegated her back to the role of a wife with hostessing duties. Harris (2005: 464) summarized Grace’s years as first lady by noting that she was a “loving wife and mother, with a cheerful and outgoing p­ersonality that made visitors feel welcome, and a nonpolitical presence.” He described Grace as “the perfect first lady” (2005: 457), young, pretty, and popular during her years as second lady, who then moved into her new position with no personal agenda and a willingness to let her husband preside over country and family. Bittinger (2005) also heavily focused on Grace’s devotion to her family and on her hostessing skills, writing that Grace kept her role as first lady “very nonpolitical” (Bittinger, 2005: 92) and “was not a presidential partner” (2005: 93). Yet, in the preface to her book, Bittinger referred to Grace’s second lady years as a period during which she was “a fashion trendsetter, cordial social mixer, and the one who remembered names and faces—a great political asset. She was a positive force for [Calvin’s] career” (2005: x). Why Bittinger considered Grace to be a political asset as a second lady but called her “nonpolitical” as a first lady is unclear. However, both Harris’s and Bittinger’s emphasis on Grace’s lack of political influence are similar to the attitudes of early Coolidge biographers, who were determined to portray Calvin as a decisive man who did not need the first lady involved in political affairs, as his predecessors did. In 2008, Ferrell resumed efforts to boost the influence of Grace Coolidge by declar­ ing that “the marriage of Grace Goodhue and Calvin Coolidge ensured the rise of Grace’s husband to high public office. It

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seems impossible that he could have done so without her” (Ferrell, 2008: 27). Ferrell said that Grace’s ability to create a stable home life by accommodating Calvin’s rules and temperament, her capacity to ease Calvin’s stiffness at social events, and her willingness to support his career were major influences on Calvin’s ability to advance in politics. In his exploration of Grace’s i­nfluence as an individual, Ferrell did not break any new ground, however. Like prior authors, he noted Grace’s influence on f­ashion, the wide impact of her charm, and her connection with children. Also like the early Coolidge biographers, he wrote of Grace’s hands‐off approach to politics in contrast to that of her predecessors. Her approach was politically advantageous in that “it allayed the fears of men about first ladies” (Ferrell, 2008: 73). The involvement of Nellie Taft, Edith Wilson, and Florence Harding in presidential affairs had ruffled feathers, and there remained suspicion over women’s newly gained power to vote. In a decade slow to accept the rising role of women, Grace remained outside of the fray, as she “did not threaten men” (Ferrell, 2008: 74). Although Ferrell provided a sig­ nificant contribution to Grace Coolidge scholarship through his reexamination of the Coolidges’ marriage, he offered little new insight into Grace’s legacy as a first lady. Ironically, the South Dakota trip, which was a noteworthy moment in the Coolidges’ marriage, also proved to be a noteworthy moment for historians interested in examin­ ing the extent of Grace’s involvement in her husband’s political affairs. Within weeks of the Haley incident, Calvin announced from South Dakota that he would not seek another term in office. The most common narrative is that Grace had no idea that her husband was not planning on running again and did not find out about his plans until Kansas Senator Arthur Capper told her about the announcement. White, Fuess, Ross, Dixon Healy, Boller, Harris, and Ferrell all share this perspective and often

accompany the tale with a related quotation from Grace: “I am rather proud of the fact that after nearly a quarter century of m­arriage my husband feels free to make his decisions without consulting me or giving me advance information concerning them” (quoted in Ross, 1962: 222–223; see also Coolidge, 1992: 65). However, Anthony, Miller, and Bittinger question this claim of ignorance and believe that Grace was more informed than the Coolidges let on. Anthony (1990) proposed that Grace actually meant that she did not know when Calvin would make the announcement. He pointed to evidence that Grace knew months in advance that Calvin would not run again. Two months before the announcement, Grace completed her coverlet for the Lincoln bedroom, which listed the administration years as 1923– 1929. Anthony also claimed that Grace told a friend in the spring before the announce­ ment that she would soon be a civilian again. Miller (2001), too, believed that Grace was surprised by her husband’s timing of the news, not by the announcement itself. Bittinger (2005) cited the same examples as Anthony as proof of Grace’s inclusion in the decision to leave the White House. The differing perspectives among Coolidge biographers about the extent of Grace’s importance and involvement in Calvin’s career—and about her legacy as first lady—indicate that further research is necessary to clarify Grace Coolidge’s role in history. Although her grace and charm are clearly agreed upon assets, the suggestion that Grace contributed more than was widely believed during her time as first lady indicates that her tenure is worthy of further exploration. Life after Calvin One of the biggest gaps in research on Grace Coolidge is the examination of her life as a widow.



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Grace lived for twenty‐four more years after Calvin died. Although initially lost without him, she began to change from the “childlike woman who had been first lady” (Caroli, 1997: 204) and “became a different person because the half of her being that had been kept under wraps was able to appear” (Ferrell, 2008: 131). During her widowhood, Grace began undertaking activities previously banned under Calvin’s rules, such as bobbing her hair, flying in an airplane, learning to drive, and wearing pants. She also voiced her opinions in favor of early intervention during World War II, raised money to bring war refugees to the United States, and “devoted herself e­nergetically to war work, helping the Red Cross, the civil defense authorities and w­artime drives of all kinds” (Ross, 1962: 315). Ferrell (2008) explained Grace’s transformation this way: “With Calvin Coolidge’s pass­ ing, the repression of all the years was gone, and Grace Coolidge opened up” (Ferrell, 2008: 131). Following the war, Grace remained active with the Clarke School for the Deaf, her church, and the Smith College fund. Her devotion to baseball was so firm that she was declared “the first lady of baseball” during a c­ eremony at Fenway Park in Boston (Ferrell, 2008: 150). Yet, even though Grace spent nearly one third of her life as a widow and changed from her first lady persona during these years, biographers pay little attention to her life after Calvin. Ross (1962) provided the most comprehensive overview by devoting 50 pages of her 344‐page bio­ graphy to Grace’s years as a widow. Ferrell (2008) wrote about half as much, while Bittinger accorded Grace’s widowhood 15 pages. Anthony (1990), Miller (2001) and Harris (2005) summed up Grace’s life after Calvin in a few pages, while Boller (1988) did it in page. Other scholars only included a handful of sentences (Healy, 1988; Caroli, 1997; Edwards, 2004). While

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perhaps the most glamorous part of first lady scholarship consists in examining how ordinary Americans end up in the White House and how they use their position while there, these women’s lives do not end after vacating 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue. How first ladies change after their White House years provides telling infor­ mation about the confines of the office. How first ladies deploy their fame during their years as private citizens is just as note­ worthy as how they used that fame while in the White House. As a former first lady who spent her widowhood being actively involved in community service, Grace deserves the final chapter of her legacy to be shared. Future biographers should take note of this and treat Grace’s life on her own as seriously as they do her life with Calvin. On July 9, 1957 The New York Times noted that Grace’s death rekindled memo­ ries of “a glittering era in American history, the ‘Golden Twenties’; but her qualities of mind and heart represented something far deeper and more lasting in American life” (“Mrs. Coolidge Dies; Widow of President,” 1957: 28). Indeed, Grace’s attention to people with disabilities, the diplomatic skills she employed in order to ease relations between her husband and Washington soci­ ety, her community service, and her overall zest for life make her more than “America’s Best‐Known and Best‐Loved Wife and Mother.” Grace Coolidge was notable in her own right, and her seventy‐eight years of life provide historians with an array of topics to explore: her work with the deaf, her extensive letter writing with college friends, her marriage, her influence in Washington, her depiction in the media, her wartime work, and public reaction to her, for example. Ferrell’s (2008) bibliographic essay provides extensive advice on finding primary and secondary sources for research on Grace Coolidge: an open invitation to exploring a woman once beloved in American history.

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References Anthony, C. S. 1990. First Ladies: The Saga of the Presidents’ Wives and Their Power, 1789–1961. New York: HarperCollins. Bittinger, C. 2005. Grace Coolidge: Sudden Star. New York: Nova History. Boller, P. F., Jr. 1988. Presidential Wives. New York: Oxford University Press. Brough, J. 1975. Princess Alice: A Biography of Alice Roosevelt Longworth. Boston: Little, Brown. Caroli, B. B. 1997. First Ladies, 2nd edn. Garden City, NY: Guild America Books. Catton, B. 1929. “Coolidge Discreet in Autobiography.” Florence (Ala.) Times‐News, November 22: 3. Coolidge, C. 1929. The Autobiography of Calvin Coolidge. New York: Cosmopolitan Book Corp. Coolidge, G. 1960. “A Wife Remembers.” In Meet Calvin Coolidge: The Man Behind the Myth, edited by E. C. Lathem, 61–70. Brattleboro, VT: Stephen Greene Press. Coolidge, G. 1992. Grace Coolidge: An Autobiography, edited by L. E. Wikander and R. H. Ferrell. Worland, WY: High Plains Publishing. Edwards, J. L. 2004. “Grace Goodhue Coolidge.” In Inventing a Voice: The Rhetoric of American First Ladies of the Twentieth Century, edited by M. M. Wertheimer, 145– 160. Lanham, MD: Rowman and Littlefield. Ferrell, R. H. 2008. Grace Coolidge: The People’s Lady in Silent Cal’s White House. Lawrence: University Press of Kansas.

Fuess, C. M. 1940. Calvin Coolidge: The Man from Vermont. Boston, MA: Little, Brown and Co. Harris, B. 2005. The First Ladies Fact Book. New York: Black Dog & Leventhal. Healy, D. D. 1988. America’s First Ladies: Private Lives of the Presidential Wives. New York: Macmillan. Miller, K. 2001. “Grace Anna Goodhue Coolidge.” In American First Ladies: Their Lives and Their Legacy, edited by L. L. Gould, 2nd edn., 257–273, New York: Routledge. “Mrs. Coolidge Dies; Widow of President.” 1957. The New York Times, July 9: 1, 28. Ross, I. 1962. Grace Coolidge and Her Era: The Story of a President’s Wife. New York: Dodd, Mead. Shlaes, A. 2013. Coolidge. New York: HarperCollins. “Coolidge Is Terse in Autobiography.” 1929. The Pittsburgh Press, April 30: 24. White, W. A. 1938. A Puritan in Babylon: The Story of Calvin Coolidge. New York: Macmillan. Wildman, E. 1934. Famous Leaders of Character. Norwood, MA: L. C. Page. Williamson, S. T. 1928. “Always before the Eye of the Camera,” New York Times, May 20: 74.

Further Reading C‐SPAN. 2013. “First Lady Grace Coolidge.” Broadcast October 7. http://www.c‐span. org/video/?314528–1/first‐lady‐grace‐coolidge (accessed February 27, 2014).

Chapter Twenty Four

The Historiography of Lou Henry Hoover Nancy Beck Young

Historiographic essays typically explicate contrary and changing interpretations of a particular topic on which many scholars have written. Few scholars have written biographies about former First Lady Lou Henry Hoover, and among those who have the differences are more in the quality, depth, and focus of the research than in the nature of the arguments. I spent six years relatively early on in my career researching for, and writing, the first serious, scholarly biography of Lou Henry Hoover. The book was for a series that required concentration on her White House years, and the process of writing this book encouraged me to think philosophically about why and how we should go about scholarship on first ladies. It is from that perspective that I now approach this chapter on the historiography of Lou Henry Hoover, and this makes it necessary for me to lay out the parameters of the field of first ladies’ studies as context for understanding how Lou Hoover has been treated in scholarship. Serious academic inquiry into the lives and work of first ladies is a relatively new endeavor. Though scholars have written biographies of particularly noteworthy first ladies for years, these volumes were never

considered to be part of a larger corpus on the history of first ladies, but rather to r­epresent yet another view on the p­residency of the particular woman’s husband. Scholars such as Lewis L. Gould and Betty Boyd Caroli changed that from the 1980s on, with books that looked at first ladies c­omparatively and over time. Gould has also edited for the University Press of Kansas a well‐regarded series named Modern First Ladies. Caroli, Gould, and others have only hinted at the riches awaiting the scholars who will merge women’s history with p­ olitical history, and perhaps with bio­ graphy, in order to complicate our under­ standing of what first ladies were and what they have become. First ladies, and the public view of them, provide a barometric reading of attitudes toward women’s “proper” role in society at any given moment in time. Moreover, schol­ ars can glean much about a wide array of social, cultural, economic, and political issues at a particular time by looking at the public causes upheld by individual first ladies and at how these women interacted with the public regarding the issues impor­ tant to them. Not enough of this work has yet been done for Lou Hoover, let alone

A Companion to First Ladies, First Edition. Edited by Katherine A. S. Sibley. © 2016 John Wiley & Sons, Inc. Published 2016 by John Wiley & Sons, Inc.

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most other first ladies. Part of this inattention is due to scholarly prejudice and bias against elite biographies and political history and in favor of social and cultural studies—a trend that has abated somewhat but hardly dis­ appeared in the last ten or fifteen years. Despite the now flourishing scholarly interest this field has drawn, it is rare for a first lady to inspire multiple biographies, or even scholarly treatments of discrete aspects of her career. This reality makes the concep­ tualization of a historiographical essay about a particular first lady tricky. Before exploring the various writings about Lou Henry Hoover, a brief description of her biography is in order. Typically historiographical a­nalysis looks at the arguments and inter­ pretations that scholars have made about a particular topic or person. When there are few books upon which to draw, appraisals of the historiography of that person need to be expansive in their scope. Hence this chapter not only explores the books and journal articles written about Lou Henry Hoover but also examines how she has been treated in the historiography of Herbert Hoover and of women’s activism in the early twentieth century. Before looking at scholarly accounts of Lou Hoover, though, the reader inter­ ested in learning more about her career should also avail himself or herself of the vast memoir literature penned by Lou Hoover’s contemporaries, which is discussed after a brief biographical sketch. Lou Henry Hoover’s Life Born the oldest of two girls in 1874, Lou Henry had an atypical girlhood by compari­ son to the majority of her generational peers. Her parents, especially her father, encouraged her to embrace the outdoors life and to pursue a college education. Moreover, her midwestern birth and her western childhood and young adulthood (the family lived at times in both northern and southern California) gave her an

appreciation for open spaces and adventure. Although having trained to be a teacher, Henry changed her plans and entered Stanford University to study geology after she heard a compelling lecture on the topic. She was one of the first women in the United States to study in that field, and at Stanford the ratio of male to female students throughout the university was three to one. Women’s representation in the sciences was even lower. At university she met Herbert Hoover, a senior, who was completing a major in geology. They formed a bond and married in 1899, after she completed her degree. Because of Herbert’s work, the Hoovers lived abroad for most of the early years of their marriage—primarily in China, Australia, and London. Lou took to these experiences as a continuation of her c­hildhood migrations. She immersed herself in Chinese language and culture and func­ tioned as an equal partner with her husband throughout their relationship. Their marital partnership, though, did not mean that they performed the same activities but that their existence as a couple was one of mutual respect and dependence. Lou Henry Hoover shaped many of her public activities in symmetry with what Herbert Hoover was doing, especially after their children were born. For example, immediately after the outbreak of World War I, Lou worked diligently to aid the return to the United States of American travelers otherwise stranded because of war‐ induced upheavals. Once Herbert Hoover took charge of Belgian relief, Lou Hoover worked in tandem with him by giving f­undraising speeches and by visiting hunger victims in order to provide human comfort. Later in the war, after the United States became a combatant, Herbert Hoover was named director of the food administration and Lou Hoover created a club to support single female workers in wartime Washington. During the 1920s Herbert Hoover served as secretary of commerce in the Warren G. Harding administration, and then in the



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Calvin Coolidge administration, while Lou Henry Hoover became a fixture in women’s voluntary organizations. The Girl Scouts and the National Amateur Athletic Foundation were the two entities with which she was most involved, but she c­ontributed to countless other groups, espe­ cially those that empowered women and girls in new social roles. When Herbert Hoover became p­resident, Lou Hoover faced a strange and discordant combination of circumstances that both widened the possibilities available to her and limited what she could do. Her most important activities included cataloguing and redesigning the White House furnish­ ings to bring them into synchronization with the design of the era in which the House was built; breaking the racial barrier by entertaining an African American woman, Jessie DePriest, at a tea party for congressional wives; democratizing White House social events, and also using them for avowed political purposes; encouraging Girl Scouts to undertake Depression relief work; deploying the first lady’s staff for Depression relief; overseeing the construc­ tion of a school for underserved mountain children near the presidential retreat of Camp Rapidan; and using her platform as first lady to speak on the radio about topics important to her. In the years after her husband’s presi­ dency, Lou Hoover grew more conservative in her political orientation; she moved away from the progressive political views she held in the earlier decades of the century, and, not surprisingly given her husband’s decline in political fortunes, she became quite criti­ cal of the Franklin D. Roosevelt administra­ tion. She worked closely with Stanford University to develop its music program. Girl Scouts also remained a featured activity. Lou Henry Hoover remained active with the issues that had preoccupied her life until her death in 1944. What follows is an assess­ ment of the historiography on her. Study of this neglected first lady is still in its infancy,

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but the work that has been done suggests important pathways for further scholarship. Memoirs While memoirs are not typically considered in historiographic essays, perhaps in work on biographical topics they should be. The assessments that Lou Hoover’s contempo­ raries made of her provide a useful f­ramework for evaluating the subsequent historiography. Many people have written about Lou Hoover, from the pseudonymous Anonymous to journalist Bess Furman and to former White House employees like Irwin H. “Ike” Hoover, Lillian Rogers Parks, and Mary Randolph. Additionally, Dolly Gann, half‐ sister of Charles Curtis, the widowed vice president, wrote an autobiography that explicated a feud around social standing during the Hoover presidency. Most impor­ tant, though, are Herbert Hoover’s own memoirs. Anonymous (1923) sketched an unflat­ tering and misleading portrait of Lou Hoover in a work entitled Boudoir Mirrors of Washington. This book contained short essays about leading Washington women and makes Hoover declare that her ambi­ tion was to be “a background for Bertie!” Despite the assertion that Lou Hoover aspired to be a wallflower, the author described at length her activism and accom­ plishments. Indeed Anonymous mixed criti­ cism of Lou Hoover’s perceived awkwardness and lack of social knowledge with both faint and genuine praise. For example, Anonymous contended in somewhat flow­ ery prose: “She is not the shadowy setting to a vigorous character. There is too much ability to be submerged. No matter how much she may try to paint herself as a b­ackground, individuality etches a definite picture of the woman herself” (Anonymous, 1923: 244). The book angered Lou Hoover to no end; she noted emphatically that she never made the comment about wanting to

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be a background for her husband. Thus here the initial “historiographical” reaction to the memoir comes from one of the sub­ jects discussed in it, and this puts an inter­ esting twist on how historians view the history of any given topic. Furman’s (1949) Washington By‐line: The Personal History of a Newspaperwoman is more helpful for students of first ladies because she provides a memoir that covers a long stretch of time, from 1928 through 1948, and thus allows a glimpse at how one journalist viewed the evolution of the c­omplicated, unelected position of first lady in that period. Her assessment of Lou Hoover can best be described as critical of the first lady’s lack of cooperation with the press, but also respectful of Lou Hoover’s serious‐mindedness. Furman tells of Lou Hoover’s arrival at a Red Cross meeting where the participants were bickering about the color of the uniforms that aid workers would wear. Furman acknowledged her own gratification with the fact that Lou Hoover scolded the women for behaving like kindergarteners. When Furman’s book is read in its entirety, its take on Lou Hoover, then, must be described as one of grudging respect. White House employees have a unique view on the first family, one that is not always wholly positive. When looking at the three books that Irwin H. “Ike” Hoover, Lillian Rogers Parks, and Mary Randolph wrote, a picture of Lou Henry Hoover as imperious and aloof emerges. Their collec­ tive interpretation needs to be understood as an outgrowth of negative public opinion about the Hoovers—views related to the Depression and its impact on the country. In Forty‐two Years in the White House, Ike Hoover (1934) (no relation), who spent half his four decades at the White House as chief usher, complained: “The Hoovers came in and upset the whole private part of the house. … Never was the place so changed, so torn up, so twisted around” (Hoover, 1934: 181). Of the seven

presidential households he had served, theirs was the hardest to work for, because they were “dictatorial,” “extensive enter­ tainers,” “generally were up and doing all the time,” and held “a certain indefiniteness in their ways” (1934: 184). His understand­ ing and explanation of Lou Henry Hoover’s work habits contained no small amount of petty criticism: “She spent a great many hours in bed. She retired early, arose about eight o’clock in the morning, and all day long either lounged on the bed or sat up on it working” (1934: 187). Mary Randolph, a disgruntled former social secretary who worked in the White House prior to the Hoovers’ arrival and adhered to traditional Washington, DC social mores, was perhaps the most j­ udgmental in her description of Lou Hoover. Lou Hoover had clashed with her social secretary because the latter resisted the more informal entertaining strategies that Lou favored. Randolph resigned from her position after a year and wrote a book about her White House experiences: Presidents and First Ladies (Randolph, 1936). There Randolph contended: every day I was trying to persuade Mrs. Hoover to go slowly, for the first lady should never rush her jumps. No good comes of that, and every White House Secretary should try to prevent it. However, insistence on this course brought Mrs. Hoover face to face with grave difficulties. (Randolph, 1936: 124)

Lillian Parks wrote several decades later and presented a mixed portrait in My Thirty Years Backstairs at the White House (Parks, 1961). She spoke warmly of Lou Hoover’s maternal affection for her, and she praised the first lady’s work ethic and kindness to the White House staff. Yet Parks also complained about the strict rules under which servants worked, especially when the Hoovers were entertaining guests, and about what struck her (as it had Ike



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Hoover) as an unusual way of using the White House rooms: Mrs. Hoover had appropriated the bed­ room what was traditionally the President’s bedroom, and called it her dressing room. Only it wasn’t used for that at all. It was her workroom. She used the bed for her “desk” and had it completely covered with papers. She sat beside this bed, working all day long, and when she went out, we had to cover the bed with a sheet and tuck it in so the papers would never be disturbed. Mrs. Hoover had turned three bedrooms on the third floor into offices for three s­ecretaries she had hired to help her with all her projects and correspondence. (Parks, 1961: 216)

Though Eleanor Roosevelt was at least as active as Lou Hoover, Parks made no critical comments about the next first lady’s work habits; the chapters on Roosevelt in Parks’s book are flattering and laudatory. Herbert Hoover was quite disdainful of these “g­ ossip” books, which he found to be “highly imaginative,” and he explained that servants were never privy to the critical workings of the White House. He concluded: “Historians should reject all of them” (Hoover, 1952a: 322). Despite the limitations that Herbert Hoover ascribed to them, these books, especially when read in combination with the journalistic memoirs and a range of other sources, do have some value for schol­ ars who seek to better understand Lou Hoover but also for those who study first ladies and the White House in general. They offer the individualistic perspectives of those who worked for the first families day in and day out, and these observations do suggest much about personalities and priorities. They also help explain how popular images, both accurate and embellished ones, are forged; and they give an idea of the diffi­ culty historians face in using the sometimes more dull and complicated documentary record to displace views informed by such

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“gossip” books. Thus the value of these books may lie less in the wisdom of what they offer to scholars and more in their a­bility to illuminate the process by which problematic caricatures are crafted. Dolly Gann’s (1933) memoir, titled Dolly Gann’s Book, provides useful insight into Lou Henry Hoover’s handling of a social conflict in Depression era Washington; it also offers an important view of the first lady and her role in the dispute. The conflict unfolded when Alice Roosevelt Longworth, daughter of former president Theodore Roosevelt and wife of Speaker of the House Nicholas Longworth, objected to Gann’s being granted social rank over her. Though the wife of the vice president did outrank the wife of the Speaker of the House, Longworth did not believe that Gann—the widowed Vice President Charles Curtis’s half‐sister, who also served as his social h­ostess—deserved the place that would go to the vice president’s wife. The Hoovers tried to avoid taking a stand in this tête‐à‐ tête. Gann had nothing but praise for Lou Hoover, calling her “a genius for making you feel comfortable. Not that she exerts any apparent effort in your behalf. Her tal­ ent lies in the ability to make everything that is right and proper seem as if it just h­ appened” (Gann, 1933: 184). Gann’s p­ erceptive comment reveals much about Lou Hoover’s light touch, which must have been a great asset for her husband. Indeed Herbert Hoover recognized this and admired his wife for it, as we know from his prolific writings. These books represent a significant chunk of the memoir literature that has enhanced our knowledge of his wife. Among his many published works was a three‐volume memoir entitled The Memoirs of Herbert Hoover; the individual volumes bear the subtitles Years of Adventure, 1874– 1920 (Hoover, 1951), The Cabinet and the Presidency, 1920–1933 (Hoover, 1952a), and The Great Depression, 1929–1941 (Hoover, 1952b). There are forty index entries in total for Lou Henry Hoover in

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these volumes: twenty‐five in Hoover (1951), eight in Hoover (1952a), and seven in Hoover (1952b). What Herbert Hoover writes here about his wife can best be described as brief, factual, but full of admi­ ration and respect. Scholars will not find much regarding nuances of Lou Henry Hoover’s activities in these pages, but there are a few insightful nuggets that make read­ ing the Memoirs worth the investment. In a typical entry that Herbert Hoover wrote about his wife’s work with the Girl Scouts, for instance, he noted that, when she first became president of the organization, the membership rolls numbered less than a thousand. He credited her with “rais[ing] over $2,000,000 of funds and buil[ding] it up ultimately to nearly a million girls and ma[king] it into a potent agency for good” (Hoover, 1952a: 188).

without his knowledge or permission” (Anthony, 1990: 8). Regarding Lou Hoover, he finds her to be very similar to Eleanor Roosevelt—two women whom many scholars have depicted as greatly c­ontrasting in style and priorities:

Comparative Treatments, Biographical Essays, and Topical Considerations

Gutin divides first ladies into four different categories: White House keepers, who performed social and ceremonial roles; emerging spokeswomen; political surrogates and independent advocates; and a first lady in transition. She places Florence Harding, Grace Coolidge, Bess Truman, and Mamie Eisenhower in the first category; Lou Hoover, Jacqueline Kennedy, and Pat Nixon in the second; Eleanor Roosevelt, Lady Bird Johnson, Betty Ford, and Rosalynn Carter in the third; and Nancy Reagan in the last. For Gutin, Lou Hoover “adopted no major projects or causes, but pursued a number of interests in public silence” (Gutin, 1991: 51). Deeper research carried out on Lou Hoover’s papers suggests that a different interpretation may be worth considering, but Gutin made only slight use of the collec­ tion, relying more on published sources for this portion of her book. Caroli, too, paints a mixed picture of Lou Hoover. She describes the first lady as h­aving given “some remarkably feminist speeches” (Caroli, 1995: 154), but ultimately she e­ valuates her place among her peers as

Among the compendia of biographical essays and other comprehensive treatments of first ladies, the best are Carl Sferrazza Anthony’s (1990) First Ladies: The Saga of the President’s Wives and Their Power, 1789– 1961, Myra G. Gutin’s (1991) The President’s Partner: The First Lady in the Twentieth Century, Betty Boyd Caroli’s (1995) First Ladies, and Lewis L. Gould’s (2001) American First Ladies: Their Lives and Legacies. There are notable differences in what each of these books attempts, and this makes them valuable in contrasting ways. Anthony writes for a more popular audience. His overall perspective on first ladies, too, is an empowering one. He rejects the notion of first ladies as “listless decoration[s] orbiting the presidency,” finding them instead to be “an integral part of it. Only the first lady and the president determine the extent of her power, though frequently she has operated

Few political wives were as alike as Lou and Eleanor. Both addressed controversial issues, did magazine writing, vigorously advocated that women become active in politics, and were political advisors to their husbands. Lou was actually better traveled, and conversant in a multitude of lan­ guages, unquestionably the most worldly woman to become First Lady. None but Mrs. Hoover had surpassed Mrs. Roosevelt’s superior success in public‐wel­ fare projects, and few had such personal grasp of the divergent cultures and races of the world. (Anthony, 1990: 431)



the historiography of lou henry hoover

“paradoxical, because in many ways she helped make way for an activist and modern First Lady while remaining, herself, very much a retiring gentlewoman of the nine­ teenth century” (1995: 173). Caroli’s work is useful because the framework of her book allows for many comparisons with other first ladies. Indeed Grace Coolidge comes off as more stylish than Lou, and Eleanor Roosevelt as a more comfortable and n­atural activist. Nevertheless, these insights raise as many questions as they answer. What is the basis for making comparisons? Are such comparisons valid, especially when it is dif­ ficult to account for shifting political eras and individual priorities and preferences? Moreover, what is the historiographical benefit of proving that one first lady, or one individual in any category for that matter, is more stylish, more active, or more some­ thing else than another? These are questions without easy answers, but scholars inter­ ested in studying biographical topics must consider them. Other scholars have attempted compara­ tive studies of first ladies with varying degrees of success. Robert P. Watson’s (2000) The Presidents Wives: Reassessing the Office of First Lady appropriates the psycho­ logical methodology that James David Barber used in The Presidential Character: Predicting Performance in the White House (Barber, 1985) in order to give a character analysis of presidential personality types and make it into the explanatory factor of their success or failure. Applying this scheme to first ladies, Watson describes Lou Hoover as a partial partner of her husband’s but pro­ vides limited evidence for this assertion, and offers presentations of Lou Hoover that largely repeat what is already known about her. Such coverage only underlines (yet again) that she is a first lady who has not been sufficiently explored in historiographical literature. In this ensemble of titles, Gould’s work is something of an outlier in that he edited a collection of individually authored essays

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about each of the first ladies. In his i­ntroduction he contends: As Republican First Ladies and the wives of less‐than‐successful presidents, Florence Kling Harding, Grace Goodhue Coolidge, and Lou Henry Hoover seem pale beside the imposing presence of Eleanor Roosevelt. Yet, as the entries on these women make clear, they each contributed to the institutional development of the role of First Lady and exploited to varying degrees their increasing status as media attractions. (Gould, 2001: xi)

Another, more recent collection, edited by Robert P. Watson and Anthony J. Eksterowicz (2003) under the title The Presidential Companion: Readings on First Ladies, moves beyond the biographical encyclopedia approach and contains more topically focused essays. Yet Watson and Eksterowicz include nothing in their vol­ ume about Lou Hoover, despite the fact that the political and policy influence of first wives is a key topic explored there. The absence of a particular first lady in such a book raises still more historiographical q­uestions that scholars must consider about comparative analysis. Are such omissions dictated by space limitations or by judg­ ments about the relative importance of one first lady over another? Two scholars have explored the relation­ ship between first ladies and the media: Maurine H. Beasley in First Ladies and the Press: The Unfinished Partnership of the Media Age (Beasley, 2005); and Lisa M. Burns in First Ladies and the Fourth Estate: Press Framing of Presidential Wives (Burns, 2008). Beasley begins from the premise that journalists do not pay enough attention to first ladies; they cover them in either fluff or scandal stories, but not for substantive activ­ ities. She argues: “the news media need to take coverage of first ladies more seriously because the institutionalization of their role is having a greater effect on the country’s

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political system than has been recognized” (Beasley, 2005: xviii–xix). Since the focus of the book is on the entire period from the New Deal years to the present, not much attention is given to Lou Henry Hoover. While Beasley recognizes Lou Hoover’s tal­ ents and accomplishments, she nonetheless paints a negative picture of her relationship with the press. Burns on the other hand uses Lou Hoover and Ellen Wilson to show how the media depicted them both as “true women” committed to the traditional values of homemaking and as “new women” inter­ ested in public activism. Burns contends: “Such framing allowed journalists” from that era to stress “an expectation that these women somehow had to do it all” (Burns, 2008: 50). Because Burns emphasizes cer­ tain topics as associated with specific years on the first ladies’ trajectory—public woman, 1900–1929; political celebrity, 1932–1961; political activist, 1964–1977; and political interloper, 1980–2001—she does not make full use of Lou Hoover’s biography to understand her complicated place within the story of journalistic cover­ age of first ladies, and especially her political activism. Other works have explored aspects of Lou Hoover’s activism, her involvement in controversies in the White House, or par­ ticular interests she pursued or accomplish­ ments she displayed before, during, and after her time as first lady. J. Keith Melville’s (1988) article “The First Lady and the Cowgirl” provides a very narrow but focused and important lens on Lou Hoover. It includes excerpts from her correspond­ ence that are designed to support the argument that she was “an ‘ombudsman’ for many Americans during the Great Depression” and “became the foremost advocate for d­istressed Americans during the last three years of the Hoover presidential term” (Melville, 1988: 73). In Hoover, Blacks, and Lily‐Whites, Donald Lisio (1985) spends a few pages d­iscussing the controversy over the DePriest

tea party, a social occasion in the White House where Lou Henry Hoover enter­ tained Jessie DePriest, the African American wife of Oscar Stanton DePriest, newly elected to Congress from Chicago. Lisio’s description of the tea party and its aftermath is accurate as far as it goes, but he tells the story from President Hoover’s perspective, leaving out the interesting and important details of how Lou brought the event itself off without a hitch. Lisio suggests that the decision over whether to have the tea party and risk angering southern whites was one for the president alone, though he does acknowledge that the Hoovers “fully expect[ed] an adverse reaction, carefully planning the unprecedented gathering to ensure optimum receptiveness for Mrs. DePriest” (Lisio, 1985: 139). This “careful planning,” of course, was Lou’s doing. Other scholars have written about the DePriest controversy. In the Journal of Negro History David S. Day published two articles separated by an interval of ten years. “Herbert Hoover and Racial Politics: The DePriest Incident” (Day, 1980) centers on DePriest and Hoover’s efforts to use the episode to facilitate African American politi­ cal a­ctivism. Lou Hoover is not presented as a major figure in this story. The follow‐up article, titled “A New Perspective on the ‘DePriest Tea’ Historiographic Controversy” (Day, 1990), remedies this problem. In it Day describes and acknowledges Lou Hoover’s centrality to the planning and e­xecution of the tea party. Three books have been written detailing Lou Henry Hoover’s extensive role in main­ taining, designing, and building the many homes she shared with her husband. Ruth Dennis’s (1986) The Homes of the Hoovers is the most extensive of the three in scope. Darwin Lambert’s (1971) Herbert Hoover’s Hideaway, on the other hand, is a more nar­ rowly focused treatment of the design and construction of Camp Rapidan. This book features many pictures and extensive quota­ tions from Lou Hoover’s correspondence



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about the camp. Though Lambert acknowl­ edges that “Mrs. Hoover’s influence at camp was constant,” he does not discuss her exten­ sive role in the design and construction of the camp—information readily available in her papers. Paul Venable Turner’s (2004) Mrs. Hoover’s Pueblo Walls: The Primitive and the Modern in the Lou Henry Hoover House begins with a biographical sketch of Lou and Herbert Hoover and then proceeds to consideration of the home’s creation on the Stanford campus, its architecture, the Hoovers’ understanding of indigenous architecture, and an evaluation of the m­ixture of the primitive with the modern. Turner contended that “Herbert and Lou Henry Hoover were exemplars of a particu­ lar type of modernism and were publicly ­perceived as such. … Trained in science and engineering, they were inclined to approach problems in a rational, no‐nonsense way,” an attitude that “shaped the Hoovers’ architec­ tural preferences” (Turner, 2004: 84). Timothy Walch edited a volume entitled Uncommon Americans: The Lives and Legacies of Herbert and Lou Henry Hoover (Walch, 2003) and, although more space is devoted there to Herbert Hoover, several of the chapters do explore aspects of Lou Henry Hoover and her career. Nancy Beck Young talks about her experience research­ ing a biography of Lou Hoover. John Milton Cooper Junior and George H. Nash both write chapters that look at shared experi­ ences of Lou Henry and Herbert Hoover, Cooper writing about the early years of their marriage, when they lived abroad in China, Australia, and London and Nash looking at their humanitarian work. Susan Estabrook Kennedy penned a thoughtful chapter about how Lou Hoover’s pioneer background explained both her attraction for Girl Scouts and the work she did for the organization. Martha H. Swain, in a provocative chapter, suggests that the women’s relief work that Lou Hoover coordinated during the early years of the Depression prefigured much of what happened later in the Franklin

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Roosevelt White House. She finds that Lou Hoover deployed many of the strategies that Eleanor Roosevelt would after her, par­ ticularly in her use of connections with women’s voluntary organizations and with an informal group of close friends as advisors and lieutenants in coordinating relief efforts. She also notes Lou Hoover’s use of the radio to publicize the problems of the depres­ sion—an outreach similar to Eleanor’s. Yet Swain draws an important distinction between Lou Hoover’s and Eleanor Roosevelt’s efforts: the former could rely on no federally funded relief administration with tentacles reaching to the county level of governance, as the latter could. Lou Henry Hoover’s Biographies Helen B. Pryor, a friend and colleague of Lou Henry Hoover who worked with her on women’s athletics at Stanford University, wrote the first substantive biography of her. This book merges features of an analytical and objective biography with those of a memoir penned by a friend. Pryor’s (1969) Lou Henry Hoover: Gallant First Lady and a series of articles she published two years later in Palimpsest, the journal of the State Historical Society of Iowa—“Girlhood in Waterloo,” “Homemaker in Many Lands,” “Lou Hoover: Gallant First Lady,” “A New Life in California,” and “The Years Following 1933” (see Pryor, 1971a, 1972b, 1971c, 1971d, 1971e)—read nothing like the critical memoirs that make a point of delivering scathing commentary about the Hoovers. Instead Pryor (1969) mixes extensive use of quotation—of passages that she obtained either through conversations with Lou Henry Hoover or from the Hoover papers and other related collections to which she had access—with telling descriptions of events. Her book will frustrate the serious academic, though, because it lacks a system of referencing its sources. The book reflects

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the trend of “first biographies,” which either are authorized by the family or have sub­ stantial cooperation from it; this makes it useful primarily for scholars who undertake a detailed study of Lou Hoover or her hus­ band. Because Pryor knew Lou Hoover, her book also straddles the divide between removed and objective scholarship and first hand memoir. Pryor’s final assessment of Lou Hoover acknowledges the problem that bedevils all her biographers and all stu­ dents of her life: the chasm between her independent pursuits and her substantive support of her husband: Mrs. Hoover was a full partner with her husband but always put his interests first and was content to remain in the back­ ground. However, all her life she was a person in her own right, one who was very human, who enjoyed informality, and was never impressed with her own importance. (Pryor, 1961: 248–249)

Substantive scholarship on Lou Hoover followed the opening of her papers in 1985. Among the first important works was Dale C. Mayer’s (1987) essay “Not One to Stay at Home: The Papers of Lou Henry Hoover.” Mayer, then an archivist at the Herbert Hoover Presidential Library, p­rovided academics with a thoughtful analy­ sis of the riches available in the Hoover papers. Another article of his—“An Uncommon Woman: The Quiet Leadership Style of Lou Henry Hoover”—describes Hoover as a “progressive woman” (Mayer, 1990: 685). Mayer’s edited collection Lou Henry Hoover: Essays on a Busy Life (Mayer, 1994) includes essays about Lou Hoover’s formative years, her work with the Girl Scouts, her support of women’s athletics, her agenda as first lady, her efforts to docu­ ment the history of the White House, and her support for the arts. The chapters just barely begin to reveal what Lou Hoover’s biographers have since unearthed. Three biographies of Hoover have been published since the opening of her papers:

Anne Beiser Allen’s (2000) An Independent Woman; Nancy Beck Young’s (2004) Lou Henry Hoover: Activist First Lady; and Dale C. Mayer’s (2011) Lou Henry Hoover: A Prototype for First Ladies. Neither Allen nor Mayer spend much time on the White House years. This choice makes some sense, because Lou Hoover had a tremendously rich career prior to Herbert Hoover’s e­lection as president in 1928. However, she is also a significant figure in the history of first ladies, one who transformed the mean­ ings of the office. Allen and Mayer do not offer much analysis or interpretation either, but they do tell the story of Lou Hoover’s very active life. The titles of these books embed their authors’ theses: Allen focuses on Lou Hoover’s independence and Mayer depicts Lou Hoover as a precursor to the activist first ladies of the twentieth and twenty‐first centuries. Neither scholar has been fully successful in making arguments for these claims. Allen’s thesis is weakened by her acknowledgment and discussion of “the unusually close relationship” Lou Henry Hoover enjoyed with her husband, Herbert Hoover, and of the degree to which she “actively supported many of his p­rojects” (Allen, 2000: 3). Mayer’s thesis is perhaps more problematic. Showing Lou Hoover as a prototype for future first ladies is difficult when just three out of 16 chapters are given over to the White House years. Indeed, the bulk of his book is devoted to her childhood and marriage and too little space is given to Lou Hoover’s activism before, during, or after her husband’s presidency. Young (2004) was the first scholarly biography to draw on Lou Hoover’s per­ sonal papers. Unlike other first ladies of her generation, Lou Hoover preserved papers that document her entire life. This treasure trove allows for study of Lou Hoover in ways not possible for some other first ladies. Young’s book, though, is not a fully b­alanced biography. In line with the format of the University Press of Kansas book series Modern First Ladies, of which it is a part, it



the historiography of lou henry hoover

does not explicate Lou Hoover’s activism prior to the White House years. Instead, the work focuses on what Lou Hoover did as first lady: her activism, her (often politically oriented) strategy for entertaining, her work with the Girl Scouts and Depression relief, and her efforts to balance her public and private persona. Therefore there is still room for scholars to write a balanced cradle‐to‐ grave biography of Lou Hoover that gives her pre‐White House occupations, her White House career, and her post‐White House life equal consideration. Herbert Hoover’s Biographies While students of first ladies are often urged to consult closely biographies of the presi­ dents in order to learn more about these women, such biographies often offer only a superficial analysis of the first lady. Examination of the literature on Herbert Hoover bears this point out. Most of the early biographies and treatments of Herbert Hoover and his presidency say little, if a­nything, about Lou Henry Hoover. Two reasons help explain why this might be: Lou Henry Hoover’s papers were not opened for research until 1985, and women’s history as a field was then only beginning to gain more general acceptance in the academy. David Burner and Joan Hoff Wilson were in the first wave of historians who studied the Hoover years. Burner’s (1979) Herbert Hoover: A Public Life does a masterful job of revealing the complexity of Herbert Hoover’s life and career, but it has little to offer scholars interested in Lou Henry Hoover. There are only a dozen mentions of her in the index, and his account of her p­ ublic work is woefully inadequate; he notes, for example, that “Lou Henry Hoover retained her public anonymity throughout these years with one exception: as honorary president of the Girl Scouts, she raised over $2 million” (Burner, 1979: 189). Factually wrong—she was both the

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president of the organization (once in the 1920s, and again in the mid‐1930s) and its honorary president during her husband’s White House years—and full of omissions, Burner’s work leaves out all of Lou’s other activities from the 1920s. By doing so, it reflects both the era in which the book was written and the lack of source material avail­ able to the author. Burner’s most telling observation is in keeping with these facts: “Geologist, scholar, activist in charities, this remarkable woman assumed the character of the wife of a public figure, invariably sup­ porting her husband’s opinions” (1979: 334). This summary is neither right nor wrong. The roles Burner assigned to Lou Hoover are accurate but incomplete, but his contention that she demurred to her h­ usband misses both the nature of their marriage and the robust independence of her mind. The Hoovers were often in a­greement because they viewed the world in similar ways, not because Lou Hoover avoided independent thought. Though published four years earlier, Wilson (1975) is notably better: this book discusses Lou Hoover as integral to Herbert Hoover’s career. Wilson also shows Lou Hoover’s independent public undertakings: Throughout their marriage Lou Hoover continued to develop her own interests. … She also urged women to use their newly won right to vote and to choose independent careers even if they were married, once telling a 1926 Girl Scout convention that the woman who used her children as an excuse for not pursuing professional interests was lazy. (Wilson, 1975: 19).

Wilson describes Lou Hoover’s “feminist activities” as “moderate by today’s stand­ ards, [but] … advanced and innovative for her time” (Wilson, 1975: 19). In 1983 George H. Nash published the first of three volumes in a multivolume biog­ raphy entitled The Life of Herbert Hoover; its subtitle was The Engineer, 1874–1914 (Nash,

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1983). The next two volumes were subtitled The Humanitarian, 1914–1917 (Nash, 1988) and Master of Emergencies, 1917–1918 (Nash, 1996). Throughout these volumes Nash showed great sympathy toward Lou Henry Hoover. He noted, but did not dis­ cuss at length, the major areas of her activ­ ism. For example, he described her work in wartime Washington with female employees in the food administration and concluded: “In her own sphere she, too, was an execu­ tive” (Nash, 1996: 429). The amount of coverage she received, though, was progressively diminishing in Nash’s volumes. This is both understanda­ ble and problematic. Nash’s study of Herbert Hoover is as exacting as any multi­ volume presidential biography can be. The sometimes overwhelming detail about the main figure, Herbert Hoover, leaves too lit­ tle space for attention to the individuals who shaped his life—Lou Hoover, for example. Because the Hoovers’ careers unfolded in tandem with Lou Hoover’s undertaking work that paralleled and abetted what Herbert Hoover was doing, it would be most useful for biographies of him to draw these connections and explain what they mean for their shared work initiatives. Three other historians finished this ambitious biography project. Their books are discussed next. Kendrick A. Clements produced the v­olume subtitled Imperfect Visionary, 1918– 1928 (Clements, 2010) for the same multi­ volume Life of Herbert Hoover, and his thoughtful incorporation of Lou Henry Hoover throughout the narrative demon­ strates how much better presidential litera­ ture is when the president’s spouse is made a significant figure in the story. Clements became fascinated with Lou while working on Herbert and, prior to the publication of this book, he published a journal article entitled “The New Era and the New Woman: Lou Henry Hoover and ‘Feminism’s Awkward Age’” (Clements, 2004). This article distills nicely the views of Lou Hoover that he later presents in a

holistic fashion in Imperfect Visionary. Clements contends there that Lou Hoover’s “view of women’s right to a public role was certainly shaped by the women’s move­ ment”; but he asserts she was not a feminist, in part because she “proclaimed women’s duty to uphold their traditional domestic function” (Clements, 2004: 426). In “Modern First Ladies and the Presidency,” Lewis L. Gould (1990) adds some insights to this analysis by describing Lou Hoover as “the champion of a brand of conservative feminism during the 1920s that merits addi­ tional inquiry” (Gould, 1990: 678). He concludes that her public success resulted in large part from the privilege of social class: From the outset, she assumed her ability and right to be and do anything of which she was capable. Her circumstances did not make her typical of American women in the 1920s, except that she shared a widespread feeling that greater opportu­ nity could and should come to all women and set out to do what she could to bring that about. (Gould, 1990: 461)

Glen Jeansonne contributed to the multi­ volume Life of Herbert Hoover with another independent volume, subtitled Fighting Quaker, 1928–1933 (Jeansonne, 2012). Meticulously researched, Jeansonne’s book explores how Herbert Hoover’s personality shaped his approach to the presidency. His narrative is sympathetic without being a­pologetic, and he acknowledges the centrality of Lou Henry Hoover to Herbert Hoover’s success: With Lou Henry as his companion, Hoover was able to fulfill more of his life’s ambitions than with any other conceivable spouse. Their interests overlapped and complemented one another’s; she not only permitted but encouraged him to pursue his choices in life and provided comfort, nurturing, loyalty, and love. (Jeansonne, 2012: 348)



the historiography of lou henry hoover

Gary Dean Best’s (2013) Keeper of the Torch, 1933–1964—another volume under the same general title—is a condensed, revised, and expanded version of his earlier two‐volume study of the post presidential years: Herbert Hoover: The Postpresidential Years, 1933–1964 (Best, 1983). In his older work he made only three references to Lou Henry Hoover: her departure from Washington with President Hoover in 1933, her death in 1944, and her reinterment at the Herbert Hoover Presidential Library in 1964, after Herbert Hoover’s death and burial there. While she appears more f­requently in the more recent volume, she remains a supporting player. Best does not engage with Lou Hoover’s post‐White House career in any meaningful way. Martin L. Fausold’s (1985) The Presidency of Herbert C. Hoover provides a thoughtful and synthetic treatment of the Hoover White House. In consequence, one will not find here a tremendous amount of informa­ tion on Lou Henry Hoover; nor should readers expect to find examples of the Hoovers’ parallel activities during the White House years, as there are only two mentions of Lou Hoover in the index. Still, students wanting a shorter introduction to Herbert Hoover’s presidency than the Jeansonne volume would be well advised to consult Fausold, who has captured well the issues and problems President Hoover faced. Because Herbert Hoover had a long life and an active public career after he left the White House, there has been no shortage of scholarship on his postpresidential years. In addition to Best’s work described above, readers should consult Richard Norton Smith’s (1984) An Uncommon Man: The Triumph of Herbert Hoover. This work has the characteristics of a full biography, but its focus is on telling readers about Herbert Hoover’s consequential and significant record of public service after he left the presidency. Unlike Best, Smith gives thoughtful consideration to Lou Henry Hoover. In the earlier biographical chapters

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he relates the details of the Hoover marriage and Lou Henry Hoover’s activities before and during the White House years. He describes Lou Hoover as a woman who rejected the status quo regarding White House operations. Though he paints her as a substantive figure in Herbert Hoover’s life, her work is never described in full detail. Instead, Smith sprinkles in quick observa­ tions and telling anecdotes about her activi­ ties and contributions. His assessment of her values and of her work— including “her appetite for living,” “her circumspection as a public figure,” and her devotion to her husband—are in keeping with what other scholars have found. Smith concluded: “She eased his torment, salved his wounds, and introduced him to an entirely new genera­ tion of journalists,” so that his accomplish­ ments could better be told to the nation (Smith, 1984: 328). Feminism and Women’s Activism Historians of women’s activism and femi­ nism in the early twentieth century have been largely silent on Lou Henry Hoover. Nancy F. Cott’s (1987) The Grounding of Modern Feminism remains the most impor­ tant title for scholars wanting to understand how these topics unfolded in the 1910s and 1920s. This work explores the development of feminism as a concept in the United States and analyzes why and how women chose to use the term—or not to use it—as a descriptor for their views, values, and activities. Cott argues that in the 1920s “the new language of Feminism marked the end of the woman movement and embarkation on a modern agenda. Women’s efforts in the 1910s and 1920s laid the groundwork and exposed the fault lines of modern f­ eminism” (Cott, 1987: 4). Lou Hoover never appropriated for herself the word “feminism” in order to describe her activities in pursuit of bettering society generally and women particularly, and she never wrote her

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memoirs, but her own life suggests there were consequential areas of overlap between her endeavors and the feminists about whom Cott writes. Thus people who want to know more about the intellectual milieu in which Lou Hoover lived need to read Cott. Related titles that are also required reading for understanding the origins of feminism and women’s reform initiatives are William L. O’Neill’s (1971) Everyone Was Brave: A History of Feminism in America, Rosalind Rosenberg’s (1982) Beyond Separate Spheres: Intellectual Roots of Modern Feminism, Lois Scharf and Joan M. Jensen’s (1987) Decades of Discontent: The Women’s Movement, 1920–1940, and Robyn Muncy’s (1991) Creating a Female Dominion in American Reform, 1890–1935. Lou Hoover was not the only woman of her generation who exhibited definite char­ acteristics associated with feminism but did not claim that mantle. Biographers and scholars have studied other women with similar behaviors. Perhaps the best example is the subject of Estelle B. Freedman’s (1996) Maternal Justice: Miriam van Waters and the Female Reform Tradition. The concept of “maternal justice” that Freedman develops in her discussion of van Waters does not perfectly capture Lou Hoover’s activist agenda but contains similar attributes, best seen in relation to Lou Hoover’s interests in the Girl Scouts, in non‐competitive athletic development, in caring for the victims of war, and in helping from behind the scenes those beaten down by the Depression (Freedman, 1996: xiii). While mostly overlooking Lou Hoover in their attempts to explicate their stories of feminism and women’s voluntary activism in the early twentieth century, women’s h­istorians have written much about voluntary associations, because such groups were critical conduits for reform. Lou Hoover was affili­ ated with countless such associations and played an instrumental role in the success of several, most notably the Girl Scouts. To gain a better understanding of this culture

of voluntarism, Karen J. Blair’s (1980) The Clubwoman as Feminist and Anne Firor Scott’s (1984) Making the Invisible Woman Visible are recommended. Both illuminate the world of women’s voluntary associations. Scholarship on Girl Scouts is less well developed and largely still lacks the sophisti­ cation and complexity of inquiry needed for substantive analysis. Stacy A. Cordery’s (2012) biography—entitled Juliette Gordon Low: The Remarkable Founder of the Girl Scouts—provides a flattering and thorough story of Low and the birth of the organiza­ tion, but pays less attention to Lou Hoover’s role in it. Cordery suggests that Juliette Low did not consider Lou Hoover’s work with the Girl Scouts to be as valuable as that of other volunteers, but she does credit Lou Hoover with developing the idea of the cookie sales. Susan A. Miller’s (2007) Growing Girls: The Natural Origins of Girls’ Organizations in America spends more time on Herbert Hoover’s interaction with the Girl Scouts during his tenure in the food administration than on Lou Henry Hoover’s leadership role in the organization. An older work, Ethel Mockler’s (1947) Citizens in Action: The Girl Scout Record, 1912–1947, is perhaps the most useful source for under­ standing the Girl Scouts during the years when Lou Hoover worked closely with this organization. Conclusion In addition to a full scholarly biography that treats her entire life in balance, scholars interested in Lou Hoover still have multiple topics open to them, depending on whether they wish to concentrate on her activities in the 1910s and 1920s, her White House years, or her work in the 1930s and early 1940s. Any of the numerous issues or organizations with which she worked provides scaffolding for scholars interested in a host of social history topics. While scholars have done such work with other,



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arguably less well known women, little has been done with first ladies. Perhaps, then, the biggest historiographical question that must be addressed is why there has not been a better integration of first ladies into wom­ en’s history. First ladies can provide an interesting and unique opportunity to find the link between the elite and the average, and Lou Hoover’s life is especially fruitful in this regard. For this to happen, study of her life needs to move beyond the stage of retrieval and recovery of basic information and into deep analysis of the critical j­unctures in her career. Depression era Girl Scouts is just one example of a dozen or more topics that could be developed analytically using Lou Hoover as a fulcrum. When there is a body of literature that uses women who happened to be first ladies for the purpose of furthering such broader inquiries impor­ tant to historians of women and gender, the field of first lady studies will have reached maturity.

References Allen, A. B. 2000. An Independent Woman: The Life of Lou Henry Hoover. Westport, CT: Greenwood. Anonymous. 1923. Boudoir Mirrors of Washington. Philadelphia: John C. Winston. Anthony, C. S. 1990. First Ladies: The Saga of the President’s Wives and Their Power, 1789–1961. New York: William Morrow. Barber, J. D. 1985. The Presidential Character: Predicting Performance in the White House. Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice Hall. Beasley, M. H. 2005. First Ladies and the Press: The Unfinished Partnership of the Media Age. Evanston, IL: Northwestern University Press. Best, G. D. 1983. Herbert Hoover: The Postpresidential Years, 1933–1964, 2 vols. Stanford, CA: Hoover Institution Press. Best, G. D. 2013. The Life of Herbert Hoover: Keeper of the Torch, 1933–1964. New York: Palgrave Macmillan. Blair, K. J. 1980. The Clubwoman as Feminist: True Womanhood Redefined, 1868–1914. New York: Holmes and Meier.

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Burner, D. 1979. Herbert Hoover: A Public Life. New York: Knopf. Burns, L. M. 2008. First Ladies and the Fourth Estate: Press Framing of Presidential Wives. DeKalb: Northern Illinois University Press. Caroli, B. B. 1995. First Ladies, expanded edn. New York: Oxford University Press. Clements, K. A. 2004. “The New Era and the New Woman: Lou Henry Hoover and ‘Feminism’s Awkward Age.’” Pacific Historical Review 73: 425–461. Clements, K. A. 2010. The Life of Herbert Hoover: Imperfect Visionary, 1918–1928. New York: Palgrave Macmillan. Cordery, S. A. 2012. Juliette Gordon Low: The Remarkable Founder of the Girl Scouts. New York: Viking. Cott, N. F. 1987. The Grounding of Modern Feminism. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press. Day, D. S. 1980. “Herbert Hoover and Racial Politics: The DePriest Incident.” Journal of Negro History 65: 6–17. Day, D. S. 1990. “A New Perspective on the ‘DePriest Tea’ Historiographic Controversy.” Journal of Negro History 75: 120–124. Dennis, R. 1986. The Homes of the Hoovers. West Branch, IA: Herbert Hoover Presidential Library. Fausold, M. L. 1985. The Presidency of Herbert C. Hoover. Lawrence: University Press of Kansas Press. Freedman, E. B. 1996. Maternal Justice: Miriam van Waters and the Female Reform Tradition. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Furman, B. 1949. Washington By‐line: The Personal History of a Newspaperwoman. New York: Knopf. Gann, D. 1933. Dolly Gann’s Book. Garden City, NY: Doubleday, Doran and Company. Gould, L. L. 1990. “Modern First Ladies and the Presidency.” Presidential Studies Quarterly 20: 677–683. Gould, L. L., ed. 2001. American First Ladies: Their Lives and Legacies, 2nd edn. New York: Routledge. Gutin, M. G. 1991. The President’s Partner: The First Lady in the Twentieth Century. Westport, T: Greenwood. Hoover, H. C. 1951. The Memoirs of Herbert Hoover: Years of Adventure, 1874–1920. New York: Macmillan.

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Hoover, H. C. 1952a. The Memoirs of Herbert Hoover: The Cabinet and the Presidency, 1920– 1933. New York: Macmillan. Hoover, H. C. 1952b. The Memoirs of Herbert Hoover: The Great Depression, 1929–1941. New York: Macmillan. Hoover, I. H. 1934. “Ike.” In I. H. Hoover, Forty‐two Years in the White House. Boston: Houghton Mifflin. Jeansonne, G. 2012. The Life of Herbert Hoover: Fighting Quaker, 1928–1933. New York: Palgrave Macmillan. Lambert, D. 1971. Herbert Hoover’s Hideaway. Luray, VA: Shenandoah Natural History Association. Lisio, D. 1985. Hoover, Blacks, and Lily‐Whites: A Study of Southern Strategies. Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press. Mayer, D. C. 1987. “Not One to Stay at Home: The Papers of Lou Henry Hoover.” Prologue 19: 85–93. Mayer, D. C. 1990. “An Uncommon Woman: The Quiet Leadership Style of Lou Henry Hoover.” Presidential Studies Quarterly 20: 685–698. Mayer, D. C., ed. 1994. Lou Henry Hoover: Essays on a Busy Life. Worland, WY: High Plains Publishing. Mayer, D. C. 2011. Lou Henry Hoover: A Prototype for First Ladies. New York: Nova Science. Melville, J. K. 1988. “The First Lady and the Cowgirl.” Pacific Historical Review 57: 73– 76. Miller, S. A. 2007. Growing Girls: The Natural Origins of Girls’ Organizations in America. New Brunswick: Rutgers University Press. Mockler, E. 1947. Citizens in Action: The Girl Scout Record, 1912–1947. New York: Girl Scouts National Organization. Muncy, R. 1991. Creating a Female Dominion in American Reform, 1890–1935. New York: Oxford University Press. Nash, G. H. 1983. The Life of Herbert Hoover: The Engineer, 1874–1914. New York: W. W. Norton. Nash, G. H. 1988. The Life of Herbert Hoover: The Humanitarian, 1914–1917. New York: W. W. Norton. Nash, G. H. 1996. The Life of Herbert Hoover: Master of Emergencies, 1917–1918. New York: W. W. Norton.

O’Neill, W. L. 1971. Everyone Was Brave: A History of Feminism in America. Chicago: Quadrangle Books. Parks, L. R. 1961. My Thirty Years Backstairs at the White House. New York: Fleet Publishing Corporation. Pryor, H. B. 1969. Lou Henry Hoover: Gallant First Lady. New York: Dodd, Mead. Pryor, H. B. 1971a. “Girlhood in Waterloo.” Palimpsest 52: 353–563. Pryor, H. B. 1971b. “Homemaker in Many Lands.” Palimpsest 52: 369–376. Pryor, H. B. 1971c. “Lou Hoover: Gallant First Lady.” Palimpsest 52: 377–387. Pryor, H. B. 1971d. “A New Life in California.” Palimpsest 52: 364–368. Pryor, H. B. 1971e. “The Years Following 1933.” Palimpsest 52: 388–400. Randolph, M. 1936. Presidents and First Ladies. New York: D. Appleton‐Century. Rosenberg, R. 1982. Beyond Separate Spheres: Intellectual Roots of Modern Feminism. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press. Scharf, L., and J. M. Jensen. 1987. Decades of Discontent: The Women’s Movement, 1920– 1940. Boston: Northeastern University Press. Scott, A. F. 1984. Making the Invisible Woman Visible. Urbana: University of Illinois Press. Smith, R. N. 1984. An Uncommon Man: The Triumph of Herbert Hoover. Worland, WY: High Plains Publishing. Turner, P. V. 2004. Mrs. Hoover’s Pueblo Walls: The Primitive and the Modern in the Lou Henry Hoover House. Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press. Walch, T., ed. 2003. Uncommon Americans: The Lives and Legacies of Herbert and Lou Henry Hoover. Westport, CT: Praeger/Greenwood. Watson, R. P. 2000. The Presidents’ Wives: Reassessing the Office of First Lady. Boulder, CO: Lynne Rienner. Watson, R. P., and A. J. Eksterowicz, eds. 2003. The Presidential Companion: Readings on First Ladies. Columbia: University of South Carolina Press. Wilson, J. H. 1975. Herbert Hoover: Forgotten Progressive. Boston: Little, Brown. Young, N. B. 2004. Lou Henry Hoover: Activist First Lady. Lawrence: University Press of Kansas.

Chapter Twenty Five

Anna Eleanor Roosevelt: Her Life before and during the White House Years Maurine H. Beasley

No first lady presents more challenges to biographers than Eleanor Roosevelt, the most visible and influential woman in p­olitics, if not in American life in general, during the middle years of the twentieth century. Thousands of books and articles have been written by and about her, some by those who knew her best, including her children. Hundreds of biographies aimed at readers of various ages fill multiple library shelves, supplemented by works that address particular aspects of her life ranging from her sexuality to her impact on the Democratic Party. She emerges as a significant figure in the voluminous literature on the career of her husband, Franklin Delano Roosevelt, president of the United States from 1933 to 1945. She also appears repeatedly in both popular and scholarly works on the Roosevelt administration, which oversaw two of the most momentous events in American history; first, the Great Depression; next, World War II. The growing literature on first ladies as partners in the American presidency acknowledges her remarkable activism in support of Franklin’s New Deal legislation, which was aimed at instituting a safety net for poverty‐stricken citizens. With the possible exception of

Hillary Rodham Clinton, none of her s­uccessors has attempted to do as much as she did as first lady. Eleanor’s years in the White House, even by twenty‐first century standards, still define the limits of expectations for a presidential wife. At one extreme Eleanor remained her own person, pursuing a lucrative career as a writer and lecturer, maintaining a private life off limits to the press, and advocating political positions to the left of her husband, while simultaneously using the mass media of her day to draw attention to administration politics. No first lady who followed her has engaged in money‐making ventures to the extent that she did, and few have e­ ngendered as much criticism—as well as admiration—for stepping beyond the confines of their traditional role as their husbands’ h­elpmates. Influenced by her example, most of the first ladies who followed her have turned their position into a platform for social causes, although usually far less controversial ones than those that Eleanor embraced. All first ladies today are expected to play a role beyond the confines of their own f­amilies; before Eleanor they were not, though some nevertheless did—like Ellen Wilson and Florence Harding.

A Companion to First Ladies, First Edition. Edited by Katherine A. S. Sibley. © 2016 John Wiley & Sons, Inc. Published 2016 by John Wiley & Sons, Inc.

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Eleanor’s life held so many different strands that she almost defies a comprehensive biographical treatment. During her lifetime she stood out in public as a wife and mother, a businesswoman, an educator, a politician, a writer and journalist, a stalwart champion of democratic women, a professional lecturer and broadcaster, a long‐time supporter of civil rights, a traveling ambassador for her husband’s administration, a friend of organized labor and a union member herself, a symbol of societal changes for women, a voice of conscience, a role model and b­eacon of hope for many, a spokesperson for the nation’s war effort during World War II, a shrewd and skillful American diplomat, a tireless champion of the United Nations, and eventually a world leader in her own right. (Her active life after her husband’s death and historians’ treatment of those years are addressed in Chapter 26 here.) Eleanor certainly recognized the fragmentation of her own life, which resonated with the multiple responsibilities faced by many women who lived more ordinary lives. In her syndicated “My Day” column—a diary‐like record of her activities that she wrote from the end of 1935 until 1962, the year she died—she touched on her hectic schedule in the White House that combined her responsibilities as first lady with her own writing career and private life. “I wish I could be three people, [one] holding teas, luncheons … [one] sitting] … at a desk eight hours a day. … [one] a wife, mother, grandmother and friend” (Roosevelt, 1935– 1962: “My Day,” December 14, 1936). Behind her exterior of good works and ceaseless movement lay a complicated p­ ersonality. Eleanor fought depression on occasion and formed closer ties with a few devoted companions than with her own family members. Unlike nearly every other first lady before and since, she determinedly continued a money‐making career while in the White House, although much of what she made went to charity. (Ellen Wilson, too, continued her successful painting career

during her brief span as first lady, as Chapter 20 here details). While a good deal is known about Eleanor’s personal life, unanswered questions remain. Did she exaggerate the sorrows of her own childhood, as Alice Roosevelt Longworth, her first cousin, claimed? According to Alice, Many aspects of Eleanor’s childhood were, indeed, very unhappy but she had a t­endency, especially later in life, to make out that she was unattractive and rejected as a child, which just wasn’t true. She claimed that nobody liked her. Well, we all liked her. (Teague, 1981: 154)

What combination of character, internal drive and external forces prompted Eleanor’s emergence as one of the most notable women of modern times? And did she find being first lady empowering, or did it f­rustrate her? Historians have attempted to answer these related issues about both her private life and her performance as first lady. In recent years they have explored the question of whether she was a lesbian or a bisexual and to what degree, if any, sexuality affected her public role (Ware, 1998; Streitmatter, 1998; Cook, 1999). They have pondered her relationship with Franklin, as well as with Sarah Delano Roosevelt, her mother‐ in‐law, and other family members, inquiring why she was incapable of forgiving and f­ orgetting personal hurts (Ward, 1989; Goodwin, 1994; Pottker, 2004). Obviously the central focus for most h­istorians, however, has been the extent of her influence on the policies of the Roosevelt administration and on the subsequent development of the institution of the first lady as part of the American political scene (Gould, 1996; Lash, 1971; Scharf, 1987). How much influence did she actually have on the New Deal? (Cook, 1999; Hoff‐Wilson and Lightman, 1984). How much did she or could she push Franklin to the left in terms of adoption of liberal causes? (O’Farrell, 2010; Black, 1996). Did she do as much as



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she could to aid victims of the Holocaust? (Beasley, Shulman, and Beasley, 2001; Feingold, 1980). What was her role during World War II? (Goodwin, 1994; Burns and Dunn, 2001). Historians continue to deal with these topics, as they attempt to assess her White House legacy. Unlike in the case of some other first ladies, where archival documents and personal correspondence have long since been lost or destroyed, Eleanor’s personal papers fill thousands of boxes at the Roosevelt Library in Hyde Park, New York. In addition, the Eleanor Roosevelt Papers Project at George Washington University is busy collecting other manuscript material— which can be found in archives all over the globe—and is engaged in publishing it. Thanks mainly to the efforts of these repositories, primary sources—Eleanor’s own words in letters, manuscripts, columns, and articles, as well as portions of her broadcasts for radio and television—now occupy space on the World Wide Web and can be clicked open by researchers in their own homes. All the same, and paradoxically, an accurate picture of Eleanor Roosevelt remains sometimes difficult to trace out of this multitude of p­rimary sources, a task that is further c­ omplicated by her own public presentation of herself. Author of many books and a prolific contributor to newspapers and magazines, Eleanor repeatedly offered biographical details of her life even before publishing a three‐volume autobiography that she later collapsed into one (Roosevelt, 1961). While Eleanor carved out a public role, she compartmentalized her life as well, revealing her emotional needs to only a few intimates and relying on them to maintain her privacy. One of her close companions, Joseph P. Lash, gained initial access to her private papers and produced a Pulitzer Prize‐winning biography, Eleanor and Franklin (Lash, 1971); but today’s reader would recognize that he wrote this volume and subsequent ones with discretion and

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with the approval of the Roosevelt family. At the end of the twentieth century, Blanche Wiesen Cook published two widely praised biographies: Eleanor Roosevelt: 1884–1933 and Eleanor Roosevelt: 1933–1938 (Cook, 1992, 1999). Cook has been delayed in bringing out a concluding volume, which was designed to offer a full biographical treatment. Eleanor’s pivotal role in American liberalism is treated in Allida Black’s (1996) Casting Her Own Shadow, but this work focuses on the postwar years. J. William T. Youngs’s (2000) Eleanor Roosevelt: A Personal and Public Life and Lois Scharf’s (1987) Eleanor Roosevelt: First Lady of American Liberalism pointed to the intersection of Eleanor’s private concerns and political interests; but these were relatively brief works. Other scholars looked at Eleanor from specific viewpoints—such as that of her views on foreign affairs (Berger, 1981) or that of her use of the news media (Beasley, 1987). The vast scope of Eleanor’s interests, contacts, correspondence, and influence was covered only in part in The Eleanor Roosevelt Encyclopedia (Beasley et al., 2001). Eleanor’s unusual and multifaceted life, in conjunction with a daunting collection of archival, printed, and digital source material, has made her an enthralling, yet taxing, subject for biographers. Eleanor’s major biographers have treated her with sympathy and even awe (Lash, 1971; Cook, 1992, 1999; Black, 1996). They differed on the degree to which she developed her career apart from Franklin’s. Cook and Black placed more stress on Eleanor’s independent actions than Lash, while Cook contended that Eleanor’s actual power has been diminished by previous biographers. In a series of essays published in Without Precedent: The Life and Career of Eleanor Roosevelt, w­ omen’s historians emphasized Eleanor’s relationships with women’s organizations and social reformers as the basis for her political ideas and involvement (Hoff‐ Wilson and Lightman, 1984).

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Discussion of Eleanor’s treatment by historians must take into account the fact that biographers studying Franklin and his influence on American history have regarded Eleanor as a controversial figure in his presidency—someone who, while important, was not always a political asset (Freidel, 1952–1973; Schlesinger, 1957–1960; Leuchtenburg, 1963; Burns, 1956, 1970). This conception of Eleanor’s role influenced Doris Kearns Goodwin’s (1994) best‐selling narrative, No Ordinary Time: Franklin and Eleanor Roosevelt: The Home Front in World War II. Drawing on work by Lash, Cook, and others, recent biographers of Franklin have included material on Eleanor’s private life, particularly material related to her m­ arriage (Davis, 1972; Miller, 1983; Morgan, 1983; Ward, 1985, 1989; Black, 2003), her interactions with her family and intimate friends (Davis, 1985, 1986, 1993), and Franklin’s involvement with other women (Persico, 2008). Like Goodwin, current biographers have examined stresses in the relationship between Franklin and Eleanor (Smith, 2007; Brands, 2008). As gender roles in society have increasingly tended toward equality, presidential marriages have received attention, the Roosevelts being viewed as one of the most, if not the most, notable case (Marton, 2001). Cook (1992), Goodwin (1994) and Rowley (2010) in particular have pictured the m­ arriage’s elasticity as well, outlining a relationship that encompassed to an unusual extent both his infidelity and her independence. No doubt historians will continue to find Franklin and Eleanor fascinating subjects for years to come. Eleanor Roosevelt: Wife, Mother, and Career Woman Numerous facts concerning Eleanor Roosevelt were well known during her lifetime, but various details did not emerge until years after her death in 1962. They

have led to a reexamination of her life and of the influence of her early years and family connections on her later work (Caroli, 1998; Burns and Dunn, 2001; Cook, 1992). Her background certainly helped shape the woman she would become. Eleanor was a Roosevelt herself, a member of one of New York’s oldest and most aristocratic families, before she was married to Franklin D. Roosevelt, who was her fifth cousin once removed. The first child and only daughter of Anna Rebecca Hall Roosevelt and Elliott Roosevelt, she was born in New York City, where her parents were leading socialites, on October 11, 1884 and named Anna Eleanor. She had two brothers: Elliott Junior, born in 1889, and Gracie Hall, born in 1891. Eleanor’s mother, known for her beauty and elegance, descended from the Livingston family, which once owned vast estates in the Hudson River Valley and was instrumental in drawing up and signing the Declaration of Independence. Her father, Elliott Roosevelt, was a descendant of Claes Martenszen van Rosenvelt, who settled in the Dutch colony of New Amsterdam—the future New York—even before 1650. Claes was the common ancestor of both Franklin and Eleanor. Elliott himself was the son of Theodore Roosevelt Senior, a New York philanthropist known as “Greatheart” for his charitable and reform‐minded activities, which included founding the American Museum of Natural History and the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Elliott’s older brother, Theodore Roosevelt, modeled himself after his father and served as president of the United States from 1901 until 1909. Unfortunately Elliott did not follow his brother’s example of achievement and moral living. Known for his personal charm, Elliott fell prey to alcoholism and drug addiction. He fathered a child by a domestic servant and was barred from living with his family after futile trips to Europe for rehabilitation and a stay at a treatment center in Illinois.



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While separated from Elliott, his wife Anna underwent an operation and died in 1892 at the age of twenty‐nine. Anna left custody of the children to her widowed mother, Mary Ludlow Hall. A few months later Elliott Junior died. A year after that, in 1894, Elliott himself died at the home of his mistress. He was thirty‐four. In spite of his failings as a parent, Eleanor adored her father and all throughout her life cherished the tender letters he had written to her. On the other hand, she remembered her mother only as a cold and distant figure, stating bluntly: “[Her] death meant n­othing to me” (Roosevelt, 1961: 9). Orphaned before the age of ten, Eleanor and her brother Hall lived with grandmother Hall and a group of aunts and uncles in a New York City townhouse in the winter and at the Hall family estate at Tivoli in the Hudson River Valley during the summer. Grandmother Hall insisted on religious observances—the family sang hymns together on Sunday—but found it difficult to deal with her adult children’s drinking and other problems. Often left to her own devices and educated privately, Eleanor made friends with household servants, acquiring an ability to associate with persons of all social levels. She occasionally visited her uncle Theodore’s lively family at Oyster Bay, New York, and described “these visits as a great joy” (Roosevelt, 1961: 19). Her playmates there included her first cousin, Alice, Theodore’s oldest daughter, more frivolous and headstrong than Eleanor and later one of her critics on the Washington scene. In 1899, when Eleanor was almost fifteen years old, her grandmother sent her to England to attend Allenswood, a finishing school for daughters of the elite. It was headed by an intellectual French woman, Marie Souvestre—an agnostic. Previously Souvestre had presided over a similar school in France, which had been attended by Eleanor’s aunt Anna Roosevelt Cowles, known as “Bye.” This aunt was the oldest

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sister of Eleanor’s father, a confidante of Theodore, and a more positive role model for Eleanor than her Hall relatives (Caroli, 1998: 67–131). Souvestre sensed Eleanor’s potential and took a special interest in her, enabling the lonely adolescent to develop intellectually and socially. After three years at Allenswood, Eleanor was summoned home by grandmother Hall to make the conventional début expected of young women of her social class. Following her “coming out” in the New York social season of 1902–1903, Eleanor taught dancing and calisthenics at a settlement house and investigated sweatshops for the National Consumers’ League. In 1904 Eleanor became secretly engaged to her distant cousin, Franklin D. Roosevelt of Hyde Park, New York, a Harvard student two years older than her. Franklin and Eleanor were married in New York City on March 17, 1905, in spite of initial objections from Franklin’s widowed mother, Sara Delano Roosevelt, who insisted that the youthful pair postpone their wedding for a year following their engagement. President Theodore Roosevelt, as Eleanor’s uncle, gave the bride away and congratulated Franklin for “keeping the name in the family” (Ward, 1985: 340). Alice, soon to marry Nicholas Longworth, a republican congressman who became Speaker of the House, was one of Eleanor’s six bridesmaids. Unlike Theodore, the nation’s leading Republican, Franklin belonged to the Democratic Party; Franklin’s branch of the family had split politically from Theodore’s many years earlier. As a youth, however, Franklin admired Theodore’s political skill and aspired to follow him into politics. In the years ahead, Franklin, like Theodore, would serve as assistant secretary of the navy and would be elected governor of New York before achieving the presidency. After a honeymoon in Europe, Franklin and Eleanor set up their first home in New York City, where Franklin joined a Wall

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Street law firm after two years at Columbia University Law School. The couple maintained close contact with Sara, who built and furnished adjoining homes in the city for them and herself so she could visit at any time through connecting doors. They visited often at Springwood, Sara’s commodious home known as the “Big House” and located at Hyde Park, where Franklin had grown up—and these visits enabled him to maintain ties to the Hyde Park community. From 1906 to 1916 Eleanor bore six children and led the conventional life of a well‐to‐do matron whose children were cared for mainly by servants. Sara, too, involved herself in the children’s care, hiring and firing nurses and indulging the youngsters. Inexperienced and insecure, Eleanor at first accepted Sara’s help but grew to resent it. Anna Eleanor was born in 1906, James in 1907, and Franklin Junior in 1909—but he died seven months later. Elliott was born in 1910. In that same year, 1910, Franklin began his political career with a surprising victory as a democratic reform candidate to the New York State Senate from a three‐county district that included Duchess County, where Hyde Park was located. In pursuit of Franklin’s political ambitions, the family moved to Washington, DC in 1913, when President Woodrow Wilson, a Democrat, appointed Franklin assistant secretary of the navy, Theodore’s earlier post. Eleanor soon gave birth to two more children: a son also named Franklin Junior, born in 1914, and John Aspinwall, born in 1916. Since Franklin was far more interested in public office than the law, the large family was dependent on Sara for financial support (Pottker, 2004). Both Franklin and Eleanor had inherited income, but it was insufficient for their l­ifestyle, which required up to ten servants and the fulfillment of demands for official entertaining in Washington. Eleanor herself had an income of $5,000 to $8,000 a year from family trusts, while Franklin’s father

had left most of his fortune to Sara. According to Eleanor, she and Franklin i­nitially contributed equal amounts toward household expenses; hence, as the number of children increased, she had “less to spend in other ways” (Roosevelt, 1949: 15). The United States’ entry into World War I in 1917 spurred Eleanor to volunteer for the American Red Cross and the Navy Relief Society. This prompted her visits to wounded servicemen at St. Elizabeth’s Hospital, a federally owned mental asylum in Washington. Shocked at the conditions there, she used her personal friendship with the secretary of the interior, Franklin Lane, to launch an investigation that led to improvements at the hospital (Beasley et al., 2001: 566). In September 1918 Eleanor happened upon a cache of love letters that revealed a love affair between Franklin and Lucy Mercer, her social secretary. Years later she confided to a friend: “the bottom dropped out of my own particular world and I faced myself, my surroundings, my world, honestly for the first time” (Ward, 1989: 412). The couple considered a divorce but decided to stay together after Franklin promised to cut off all contact with Mercer, who soon married the wealthy Winthrop Rutherfurd. Franklin, however, did not keep his word. The affair was hushed up and not given public attention until after Eleanor’s death, when Jonathan Daniels, a former aide to Franklin, wrote about it. His father, Josephus Daniels, had been Franklin’s superior as secretary of the navy during World War I and was well acquainted with Franklin and Lucy (Daniels, 1966, 1968). According to their children, Franklin and Eleanor ceased having sexual intimacy after the discovery of Franklin’s romance with Lucy, but they maintained a political and familial partnership. In 1920, the year in which women received the vote, Eleanor accompanied Franklin on his campaign trip as he ran unsuccessfully for the vice p­ residency of the United States on the



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democratic ticket. The family moved back to New York City, where Eleanor joined the New York League of Women Voters and later chaired its legislative committee. The unusual nature of the couple’s marriage spurred her to look outside the family circle for opportunities to develop her own political interests (Cook, 1992; Rowley, 2010). She continued her public activities after Franklin became crippled with infantile paralysis in 1921 and was never able to walk again. He was stricken while the family was vacationing at Campobello in New Brunswick, Canada, where Sara had p­urchased for them a cottage adjoining her own. Franklin’s disability, partially concealed during his lifetime, placed extraordinary strains on the family: Sara wanted him to withdraw from politics, but Eleanor and Louis Howe, Franklin’s chief advisor and Eleanor’s own political mentor, supported his own desire to remain politically engaged (Rollins, 1962). While Franklin sought medical treatment and rehabilitation, Eleanor kept the Roosevelt name alive in New York State p­olitics. In 1922 she joined the Women’s Trade Union League, which gave her access to labor circles. At first shy and uncertain of herself, she started working with the Women’s Division of the New York State Democratic Committee and developed strong friendships with three of its leaders, Nancy Cook, Marion Dickerman and Caroline O’Day, all of whom had an impact on her later career (Davis, 1972, 1974). A year later she gained national publicity as a peace advocate and as one of the organizers of the Bok Peace Prize competition, the purpose of which was to select the best plan for the United States’ cooperation with other nations in order to ensure world peace. Together with two friends from the League of Women Voters—Esther Lape and Narcissa Vanderlip—she helped direct the competition (Roosevelt, 1949: 23–24). In 1924 Eleanor, assisted by Howe, became editor of the Women’s Democratic News,

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which gave her prominence among women in the New York Democratic Party (Lash, 1971). She also joined the influential Women’s City Club of New York, where she met activists like labor reformer Francis Perkins who eventually became secretary of labor under Franklin (Cook, 1992). In 1925 Franklin suggested that Eleanor, along with Cook and Dickerman, build a year‐round retreat beside a creek called Val‐ Kill on the Roosevelt property at Hyde Park, about two miles east of Sara’s Springwood. He oversaw the building of Stone Cottage, which was completed the next year. The three friends, joined by O’Day, used their retreat to launch Val‐Kill Industries with a view to manufacturing handcrafted reproductions of early American furniture. When the undertaking quickly outgrew the cottage, the women built a separate factory on the site. Franklin backed the venture, which was designed to offer off‐ season employment to farming youth. Although it did not succeed financially, it remained in operation until 1936, when the furniture factory closed and Eleanor c­onverted the building into living quarters for herself (Davis, 1985, 1993). In 1927 Eleanor also went into partnership with Dickerman and Cook in order to purchase the Todhunter School in New York City, an elite private school for girls. As a teacher there, Eleanor instructed high school students in history, literature, and current events. She loved teaching; she told a reporter: “I like it better than anything else I do” (Cook, 1992: 399). Becoming a power herself within the Women’s Division of the Democratic Party, when Al Smith ran for president of the United States in 1928, Eleanor was placed in charge of all women’s activities for the Democratic National Committee (DNC). Outreach to women voters was made a part of DNC activities after Eleanor and other women activists had fought for the right to name women delegates representing social welfare interests to the state

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Democratic Convention following the attainment of suffrage. In recognition of women’s participation within the party, the DNC had appointed Eleanor to chair a women’s committee in 1924 to incorporate planks on social issues in the national party platform. Male politicians refused to pay attention to Eleanor and her reformer friends at the National Democratic Convention that year, but Franklin made his political comeback there after being stricken with polio: he gave a spellbinding speech, nominating Al Smith, the governor of New York, for president. Although Smith did not win the nomination, Franklin and Eleanor emerged as the party’s power couple. Eleanor became increasingly recognized as an influential political voice, particularly after she wrote a magazine article that insisted: “Women Must Learn to Play the [Political] Game as Men Do” (Cook, 1992). Drawn to Smith because he favored social legislation to protect workers and children, Eleanor campaigned for him in 1924, when he successfully sought a third term as governor, even though his opponent was her own cousin, Republican Theodore Roosevelt Junior. By the time Smith obtained the democratic nomination for presidency in 1928, Eleanor had established herself as one of the best known women in national politics. As head of women’s activities for the DNC, she worked to organize women to support Smith, carrying out organizational tasks that included public speaking, the formation of women’s Smith clubs across the nation, networking with party loyalists, and writing articles that expressed Smith’s position on foreign affairs and democracy (Beasley et al., 2001). Smith was defeated but Franklin, having decided to leave Warm Springs, Georgia, where he was undergoing therapy, ran for governorship of New York and won by a narrow margin. Busy with her work for Smith at the national level, Eleanor played almost no role in Franklin’s gubernatorial

race. In fact she had been conflicted about Franklin’s decision to run, fearing that his reentry into politics would jeopardize her growing independence. “No, I am not excited about my husband’s election,” she told reporters when Franklin won. “I don’t care. What difference can it make to me” (Lash, 1971: 320). As first lady of New York, Eleanor combined her own career with the duties of a governor’s wife. She commuted by train from Albany to New York, teaching at Todhunter three days a week. While she was away from the governor’s mansion, Franklin’s private secretary, Marguerite “Missy” LeHand, who had a close personal relationship with her employer, acted as official hostess (Persico, 2008). In line with contemporary ideas on women’s roles, Eleanor contended in public that her political activity had been for her husband’s sake and was no longer necessary because of his return to public life. To maintain appearances, she reluctantly resigned from the board of the women’s division of the state Democratic Party and gave up the editorship of the Women’s Democratic News (Cook, 1992). At the same time she kept involved behind the scenes, working closely with Molly Dewson, who became head of the Women’s Division of the DNC (Ware, 1987). On Franklin’s behalf she also perfected the art of making inspection trips to state institutions accompanied by Earl Miller, a state trooper who became her trusted companion (Lash, 1982: 117–123). She managed to maintain her own political and personal interests, even though she regretfully gave up her most obvious involvement with the Democratic Party. In addition, Eleanor sought to earn money as a writer and broadcaster. She sold nonfiction articles dealing chiefly with women’s issues to national magazines and gave sponsored radio commentaries aimed at women. Her 1932 income tax return listed her occupation as “teacher, writer and editor” (Beasley et al., 2001: 517). Howe



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encouraged her writing and served as her literary agent. According to Eleanor, Sara did not approve of her daughter‐in‐law’s efforts at financial independence: “when I began to earn money it was a real grief to her” (Roosevelt, 1949: 13). Eleanor viewed money‐making quite differently, noting in her autobiography: “I can remember my pleasure when I first was able to give some substantial help to the Women’s Trade Union League … and to carry though some of our plans on the Val‐Kill experiment” (Roosevelt, 1949: 13). Eleanor Roosevelt: First Lady Eleanor’s life changed dramatically in 1932, when Franklin was elected president of the United States as the nation was coping with the horrors of the Great Depression. While backing her husband, Eleanor disliked the conventional wifely role of riding on campaign trains, although it was campaign travel that brought her into close contact with an Associated Press reporter, Lorena Hickok, known as Hick, who became her intimate friend. In terms of the campaign, Eleanor preferred to assist Franklin by offering political intelligence she gathered on her own rather than simply standing by his side (Ritchie, 2007). She knew that his election would mean she would have to give up teaching at Todhunter due to the demands of the White House, and she feared that a­cting as first lady would restrict her career in other ways as well. Describing her feelings on November 8, 1932, the night Franklin gained an overwhelming victory, she wrote years later: “As I saw it this meant the end of any personal life of my own” (Roosevelt, 1949: 74). While Franklin looked forward to his inauguration on March 4, 1933, Eleanor pursued her career. She worked on two nonfiction books. The first, Hunting Big Game in the Eighties: The Letters of Elliott Roosevelt (Roosevelt, 1932), was an edited version of

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letters from Elliott to the Roosevelt family while on hunting trips before his marriage. The second, It’s Up to the Women, reworked her speeches and articles, calling on women to lead their families through the woes of the Depression (Roosevelt, 1933a). She also agreed to write a column for the Women’s Democratic News. Along with her daughter Anna, who was getting a divorce and needed a job, Eleanor undertook to edit a slick‐ paper magazine, Babies, Just Babies, which advised on parenting. In addition, despite her high‐pitched voice, she delivered twelve radio network broadcasts on family relations for a cold‐cream manufacturer. She earned $1,800 per broadcast, but was faced with criticism—from the press and from political opponents—for using her name for commercial purposes. As a result she announced that she would accept no more radio contracts, but she changed her mind in 1934, justifying commercial contracts on grounds of giving the proceeds to charitable causes (Beasley, 1987). When she moved into the White House, Eleanor needed moral support for her new role beyond that provided by her hard‐ working and trusted private secretary, Malvina Thompson. At this point Eleanor’s attachment to Cook and Dickerman had waned and she eventually split completely with them. Without the company of Earl Miller, who remained behind in New York, Eleanor depended on her new confidante, Hick, for emotional sustenance. As one of the very few women of her era to become a top political reporter, Hickok advised Eleanor on how to use her position as first lady to communicate with the general public. Deeply attached to Eleanor, Hick was forced to leave her job with the Associated Press because she covered up news that the Roosevelts did not want publicized. She then went to work for the Roosevelt administration as an undercover investigator of relief programs (Lovitt and Beasley, 1981). Short of money, Hick often lived in the White House as Eleanor’s guest when she

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was not on the road. Years later she wrote a book, Reluctant First Lady, describing Eleanor’s ambivalence about her role as the president’s wife (Hickok, 1962). Questions concerning the depth and nature of Eleanor’s involvement with Hick came to light after the death of both women, with the publication of a biography of Hickok that was based on her recently opened papers at the Franklin D. Roosevelt Library in Hyde Park (Faber, 1980). The book, which included letters that referred to romantic kissing, suggested that Hick and Eleanor engaged in a lesbian relationship. It immediately set off a controversy with m­embers of the Roosevelt family and others who insisted that Eleanor was not a homosexual, but simply used endearments common to older women of her era. Lash subsequently brought out two volumes of Eleanor’s letters to friends that showed that she used flowery terms in writing to a wide assortment of correspondents (Lash, 1982, 1984). On the other hand, the subsequent publication of edited portions of three h­undred letters between Eleanor and Hick intimated a passionate love affair (Streitmatter, 1998). Debate over the nature of Eleanor’s sexuality, whether heterosexual, lesbian or bisexual, continued, some scholars giving attention to Eleanor’s relationships with Miller, Lash, and later her doctor, David Gurewitsch, as well as to her relationship with Hick (Cook, 1992, 1997; Ware, 1998; Beasley et al., 2001; Smith, 2007). Eleanor credited Hick with giving her the idea of holding weekly press conferences for women reporters only. Both women saw the conferences as a way of helping save jobs for women reporters, who were being let go as newspaper revenues declined during the Depression, by making sure they had news that men could not get. Influenced by Hick, Eleanor tried to raise the self‐image of the women who were paid less than men and assigned to women’s and society sections, which had little prestige in news organizations. She told them they were “the

interpreters to the women of the country as to what goes on politically in the legislative national life, and also what the social and personal life is at the White House” (Beasley, Shulman, and Beasley, 1983: 7). Eleanor held her first press conference on March 6, 1933, two days before Franklin held his i­nitial one as president. Her last one took place on April 12, 1945, the day Franklin unexpectedly died. At her press conferences Eleanor announced the White House social schedule, discussed her own activities, and introduced notable women like Amelia Earhart, a frequent White House guest, to the journalists. The press gatherings represented an unprecedented move by a president’s wife, since Eleanor’s predecessors had kept the press at arm’s length. While Eleanor repeatedly said she did not want to intrude on Franklin’s political domain, she frequently did so by commenting on current issues. An inner c­ircle of devoted reporters insured that the conferences continued and benefitted p­rofessionally from access to the first lady (Furman, 1949). A small group went with the first lady on a trip to Puerto Rico and the Virgin Islands in 1934 to inspect conditions there. Ruby A. Black, who had been hired by the United Press solely because Eleanor refused to have men cover her conferences, helped make arrangements. Hick went along too, in her capacity as a government investigator. Despite her rapport with the women reporters, however, Eleanor faced ridicule from members of the prestigious Women’s National Press Club for her editorship of Babies, Just Babies and gave it up after six months. This did not stop her from undertaking other magazine work. She contracted with the Woman’s Home Companion, then the nation’s top women’s periodical, to receive $1,000 a month from 1933 to 1935 for “Mrs. Franklin D. Roosevelt’s Page.” In response to her plea, “I Want You to Write Me,” thousands of letters flowed in to the



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magazine (Roosevelt, 1933b: 4). The Companion paid Anna $325 a month to help her handle the correspondence. These letters represented only a portion of the huge volume of mail addressed to Eleanor in the White House—an “estimated 300,000 pieces in 1933, 90,000 in 1937 and about 150,000 in 1940”—as citizens wrote to her for help and advice (Roosevelt, 1939–1940). Eventually two books of selected letters to Eleanor were published, one presenting the letters received during the Depression and World War II (Knepper, 2004), and the other the touching letters from children who sought her aid (Cohen, 2002). The latter volume pointed out that Eleanor personally was able to read only about fifty letters each day and left her staff to respond to the vast majority via form letters that turned down requests. Nevertheless, the influx of correspondence kept her apprised of the needs of the nation. The Women’s Home Companion contract was not renewed. Perhaps this was because the magazine itself had little enthusiasm for New Deal legislation designed to increase government’s regulation of food and drugs, fearing that it might curb advertising, and did not want to favor Franklin’s reelection in 1936. This hardly affected Eleanor’s writing career. In 1937 the Ladies’ Home Journal serialized the first volume of her popular and critically acclaimed autobiography, This Is My Story, which chronicled her life from birth through 1924 (Roosevelt, 1937). It paid her $75,000, an extraordinary amount for the times and equal to Franklin’s annual salary as president. According to the editors, Eleanor was ecstatic over her payment, exclaiming: “I can’t tell you how happy this makes me, to receive all this attention for something I’ve done by myself and not because of Franklin” (Lash, 1971; see Beasley, 1987: 110.) Unhappy aspects of Eleanor’s childhood pictured in the autobiography struck one of her early biographers as particularly geared

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to the insecurities of Depression era readers. This made him surmise that Eleanor might have exaggerated the travails of her own life to establish rapport with readers (Kearney, 1968). Contemporaries, however, praised the book for its honesty, simplicity, and vivid portrayal of the world in which Eleanor grew up. The book, changed in accord with Franklin’s wishes after he reviewed the m­ anuscript, avoided all mention of Lucy Mercer (Lash, 1971; Davis, 1993). Popular acceptance of the autobiography enhanced Eleanor’s personal standing with the public and helped enlarge the institution of the first lady itself by making it socially acceptable for first ladies to write books. Eleanor’s need for personal recognition precluded any acknowledgment of the connection between Franklin’s position and her ability to make money as a journalist and radio commentator, although initially that position had opened well‐paid opportunities for her. Her success in attracting and keeping an audience, however, testified to her own popularity and determination on outreach to the public. Critics accused her of commercializing her position, but she publicized the fact that most of the proceeds went to charities and into good works (Lash, 1971; Beasley, 1987; Cook, 1999). In 1941 she launched “If You Ask Me,” a successful question‐and‐answer column for the Ladies’ Home Journal that ran until 1949, in which she advised readers and commented on issues of personal interest. In 1936 she also began making two paid lecture tours annually, along with delivering numerous unpaid speeches. Eleanor’s own personality, sincere interest in social betterment, and popularity with audiences led to a general acceptance of her commercial contracts, in spite of detractors. Her racial views infuriated segregationists (Black, 1996). Westbrook Pegler, a waspish columnist, attacked her viciously from the late 1930s to the end of her life (Lash, 1971). Yet many Americans saw her as a good woman who desired to help the nation

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as a whole by communicating with the p­ublic (Beasley et al., 2001). Perhaps curiously, Frances Perkins, who lived on a modest g­ overnment salary in Washington, was among those who questioned Eleanor’s use of her position for lucrative self‐promotion, but Perkins’ reservations remained private (Downey, 2009). Eleanor’s most successful newspaper v­enture, “My Day,” a syndicated diary of her daily activities, began at the end of 1935 and continued almost up to the time of her death in 1962. During her White House years it provided an appealing picture of an energetic wife and mother who pursued worthy causes while promoting her h­usband’s New Deal. Written in an informal style, similar to that of a blog today, the c­ olumn drew ridicule on account of its s­hallowness but attracted millions of readers. The idea apparently came from Hick, who asked Eleanor to keep a record of her schedule, in hopes of writing a future biography. Eleanor’s cousin Alice, widowed in 1931, tried to compete with “My Day” by marketing her own syndicated column, “Capital Comment”; but the latter soon left the scene. The wit that made Alice a Washington institution did not translate to the printed page (Beasley et al., 2001). On the strength of the column Eleanor joined the American Newspaper Guild, a labor union of newspaper employees. This emphasized her solidarity with organized labor, although Pegler insisted that she did not meet the membership requirement of gainful employment as a journalist, but was awarded membership simply because she was the wife of the president (Lash, 1971; O’Farrell, 2010). She was also a member of both Washington’s major organizations of women journalists—the Women’s National Press Club, which selected her because of “My Day,” and the American Newspaper Women’s Club. Edited versions of “My Day” have been published in three volumes (Chadakoff, 1989; Emblidge, 1990, 1991).

Writing by no means constituted the bulk of Eleanor’s activities as first lady. In addition to overseeing the traditional White House social schedule, she became a strong voice for women’s interests, as well as for minorities, youth, and those suffering the most from economic deprivation. She publicized the administration’s relief programs through numerous inspection trips and public appearances. After Hick introduced her to the widespread destitution in West Virginia, Eleanor particularly focused on supporting the Arthurdale resettlement community for unemployed coal miners in the Morgantown area. A series of White House conferences demonstrated her commitment to social issues. In 1933 she opened a White House conference on the emergency needs of women. The following year she hosted a White House conference on camps for unemployed women. A similar conference on the participation of negro women and children in federal welfare programs followed in 1938. In 1944, as World War II raged on, she opened a conference on how women could share in postwar policymaking. As a champion of youth, she lobbied Franklin to establish the National Youth Administration (NYA) in 1935, which offered aid to both white and black young people to stay in school or participate in job training (Roosevelt, 1949: 163). Eleanor backed the appointment of Mary McLeod Bethune, an educator, as director of the NYA’s division of Negro affairs; this made Bethune the highest ranked African American in the administration. Together, Bethune and Eleanor presented a picture of interracial cooperation that encouraged African Americans to shift political allegiance from the Republican Party—the “Party of Lincoln”—to the Democratic Party. In 1939 Eleanor used “My Day” to p­ublicize one of her best known actions in support of civil rights: resignation from the Daughters of the American Revolution (DAR), a patriotic organization, on the



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grounds that it refused to allow the African American contralto Marian Anderson to sing in Constitution Hall, then the chief concert venue in the segregated city of Washington. While Eleanor did not identify the organization she was leaving, others immediately did. Activists sponsored a c­oncert given by Anderson at the Lincoln Memorial on Easter Sunday before an integrated crowd of seventy‐five thousand where Eleanor’s name was leading the list of sponsors (Beasley et al., 2001). More liberal than Franklin on civil rights, Eleanor had long urged her husband to back legislation to make lynching a federal crime. He refused on the grounds that southern segregationists in Congress would retaliate by blocking key New Deal legislation. A year before the Constitution Hall controversy, Eleanor had defied segregation laws by sitting between black and white participants in a southern conference for human welfare in Birmingham, Alabama. As she toured the nation during the Depression, she grew more aware of the evil of racial d­iscrimination and allied herself with the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People (NAACP), in an effort to combat discrimination. In a short book entitled The Moral Basis of Democracy, Eleanor called for confronting injustice. She stated emphatically: “no one can honestly claim that the Indians or the Negroes of this country are free” (Roosevelt, 1940: 48). Eleanor’s stance on civil rights, extremely progressive for its time, made her a political liability among many southerners and annoyed some of Franklin’s political a­ dvisors (Black, 1996; Cook, 1999; Smith, 2007; Brands, 2008). Eleanor’s interest in young people prompted her to attend hearings in 1939 of the House Un‐American Activities Committee (HUAC), which she disliked, to show concern for youth activists being investigated for possible communist connections. Impressed by the testimony of Joseph Lash, national secretary of the American Student Union (ASU), Eleanor

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invited him to the White House, and then to Val‐Kill. The two developed a close r­ elationship as Lash left the communist‐ influenced ASU and converted to New Deal liberalism. They became close at a time when Eleanor’s intimacy with Hick had waned. Lash wrote later that Eleanor had a “compelling emotional need to have people … upon whom she could lavish help, attention, tenderness” (Lash, 1964: 140–141). Having risen above the personal vulnerability that stemmed from her orphaned girlhood and marital pressures, by the time Franklin ran for an unprecedented third term as president in 1940, Eleanor had established her own identity as a public figure. In 1939 the Gallup poll found that 67 percent of Americans approved of her conduct as first lady, while only 58 percent approved of Franklin’s actions as president (Gallup, 1939). That same year Time magazine selected her as one of the few women to be featured on its cover, calling her an “oracle to millions of housewives” and “the world’s foremost female political force” (“Oracle,” 1939). Her journalistic career also flourished. It benefitted from a much publicized visit to the United States of the king and queen of England in July 1939. Eleanor detailed the visit with vivid human interest in “My Day,” again demonstrating her ability to relate to ordinary citizens. In recognition of her political influence, James A. Farley, acting as chair of the DNC, and Hick, then working for the committee, summoned her to Chicago in July 1940 to calm delegates at the Democratic National Convention. Divided over Franklin’s selection of Henry A. Wallace as the vice presidential candidate, the delegates had balked at nominating him. In a brief but stirring address, Eleanor coined the phrase “no ordinary time” in view of the fact that World War II was already underway in Europe and persuaded the delegates to unite behind her husband’s choice (Black, 1995: 373, Goodwin, 1994). This was the first time a first lady addressed a major political convention.

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After the United States entered the war following the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor on December 7, 1941, Eleanor stood out as the most conspicuous figure in the administration to protest Hitler’s treatment of Jews. Yet she did not call for specific action to end the Holocaust, backing the administration’s position that winning the war took precedence over rescue operations. As late as 1939 she apparently had not freed herself totally of the antisemitic prejudice of her period: she wrote to a friend in Germany that she could understand why there “may be a need to curb the ascendency of the Jewish people” (Beasley, 2010: 171). At the same time she worked to aid Jewish refugees and pushed for their admission into the United States, but had little success, due to a prevailing climate of hostility to widespread immigration. After Franklin’s overwhelming victory in the 1940 election, Eleanor, afraid that New Deal social programs would lose out to military preparedness, took the job of assistant director of the Office of Civil Defense (OCD). Her duties included overseeing community efforts at preparedness, which she wanted to broaden to cover mental and p­hysical well‐ being. Her position made her the first president’s wife to have a federal appointment, although she was unpaid. Previously she had also broken precedent in the political arena by testifying before Congress on the plight of migrant workers and on the need for voting rights for the district of Columbia, whose residents were not permitted to vote for the presidency until 1964. Eleanor started her OCD duties shortly after experiencing the emotional turmoil of two deaths in the family. The first was that of Franklin’s mother Sara, whom Eleanor described as a “very vital person” in “My Day”—but she added: “She was not just sweetness and light, for there was a streak of jealousy and possessiveness in her where her own were concerned” (Roosevelt,1935–1962: “My Day,” September 7, 1941). The death of Sara left a void in Franklin’s life, particularly

since he no longer had the companionship of Missy LeHand who had suffered a paralyzing stroke three months earlier. Eleanor tried to give him “more attention,” according to their son Jimmy, but she soon returned to her busy schedule (Beasley, 2010: 184; Costigliola, 2012). Less than a month later, Eleanor herself was deeply affected by the death of her alcoholic brother Hall, whom she had tried unsuccessfully to help for years. Immediately after Hall’s burial, Eleanor started at her new post. Unfortunately it did not work out. Eleanor served at the OCD only from September 22, 1941 until February 20, 1942, when she was forced to resign due to adverse political and press pressure. The attack centered on the appointment of her friends to well‐paying agency posts. These friends included dancer Mayris Chaney, paid more than most military officers to design a physical fitness program for children in bomb shelters, and actor Melvyn Douglas, employed to head an arts council for $8,000 a year, which was more than the salary of General Douglas MacArthur. Eleanor left the OCD, fearing that, “if I stayed longer, I would bring more harm than good to the program” (Goodwin, 1994: 325). In her column she contended that the country was not ready to accept a president’s wife’s “actual participation in the work of the government” (Roosevelt, 1935– 1962: “My Day,” February 23, 1942). At the time of the OCD appointment Eleanor had a contract for twenty‐six Sunday evening broadcasts for the Pan‐American Coffee Bureau, an organization of eight coffee‐exporting nations. Consequently she was on the air the very same day Pearl Harbor was bombed. She changed her prepared remarks and urged listeners to back the administration as it readied itself to enter World War II. Over the next four years she delivered this same message repeatedly, c­alling on women and youth specifically to get behind the war effort. She urged women to work in defense plants and argued for day nurseries and cooperative kitchens.



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Eleanor’s determination to support Franklin’s policies led her to reverse her public position on Japanese American internment. Following the Pearl Harbor attack, she posed for photographs with Japanese Americans and called for treating them fairly in “My Day.” She worked with the justice department, which opposed internment, to try to convince Franklin that Japanese Americans “have the right to live as anyone else” (Black, 1996: 143). But Franklin bowed to military and political pressure and in February 1942 issued an executive order requiring internment. Eleanor then changed her public stance. She declared in a radio broadcast that the Japanese Americans would have to “suffer temporarily … to insure the safety of the vital interests of this country” and that their relocation would be carried out “so they will not waste their skills” (Roosevelt, 1942). During the war Eleanor served as an ambassador to American troops all over the globe. Franklin, although he had made previous overtures to have her remain at his side, readily backed her foreign trips, partly because she had become a contentious political influence. It was Eleanor who insisted on racial integration in a Detroit housing development for defense workers, and that resulted in a riot (Goodwin, 1994: 327). Eleanor’s desire to identify a new role for herself after the OCD debacle, as well as her eagerness to find new material for her journalistic ventures, prompted her to embrace overseas journeys on her own. Franklin, after all, did not invite her to his important conferences in 1943 with heads of the Allied powers in Casablanca, Cairo and Teheran. No women attended the Casablanca conference, but Eleanor was furious when she learned that Winston Churchill’s daughter Sarah and Madam Chiang Kai‐shek were present at Cairo and Teheran, whereas she had been excluded (Goodwin, 1994). After a trip to England in the fall of 1942, Eleanor pressed for African Americans to have equal access to military transportation

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and recreation centers. Following the Detroit riots, she took off on a 25,000‐mile mission to inspect troops in the South Pacific, making a surprise stop on Guadalcanal to see her friend Lash, on duty there. In March 1944 she traveled 10,000 miles to visit bases in the Caribbean. Her trips diminished her public standing; only 36 percent approved of her travels in 1944, while detractors claimed that she should stay home and “keep Franklin company” (Beasley, 2010: 203). To meet Franklin’s need for companionship, Anna moved into the White House in 1944. In view of her frequent absences, Anna, who knew the story of Franklin’s romance with Lucy Mercer, agreed that her father could invite Lucy, now a widow, to occasional White House dinners (Goodwin, 1994: 517). It was a secret kept from Eleanor. When Franklin ran for reelection in 1944, Eleanor did not recognize the extent of his physical ailments and urged him to campaign. After his victory he took to Yalta Anna—not Eleanor, who yearned to go— for a final meeting with Winston Churchill and Josef Stalin. On a vacation trip to Warm Springs, Georgia, Franklin died unexpectedly of a cerebral hemorrhage on April 12, 1945. To her great anguish, Eleanor learned that Lucy had been at his side, watching an artist paint his portrait. After leaving the White House on April 20, 1945 to return to her New York apartment, Eleanor told reporters: “The story is over” (Goodwin, 1994: 619). She did not realize that a substantial portion of her career still lay before her. Eleanor Roosevelt: The Biographical Treatment of Her White House Years The first full‐length biography of Eleanor appeared in 1940 and was written by journalist Ruby Black, who was considered one of Eleanor’s “willing slaves” and defused

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potentially embarrassing remarks at her press conferences (Bromley, 1940: 134). Although the book was not an authorized biography, Black checked her material in advance with Eleanor and with Thompson, Eleanor’s secretary. Black stressed Eleanor’s role in setting up New Deal programs, particularly ones aimed at women and youth; but relatively few sources were given in the book and there were no references or footnotes. The volume, which contained no hint of strains in the Roosevelt marriage, sold poorly. Eleanor herself gave it faint praise in “My Day”: “I began to feel I was being introduced to someone I really did not know” (Roosevelt, 1935–1962: “My Day,” October 24, 1940). Eighteen years elapsed before another biography was published, perhaps because Eleanor wrote two popular volumes of her autobiography in the interim. Like This Is My Story (her 1937 memoir), Eleanor’s account of her White House years won praise for being both a candid and a circumspect document (Roosevelt, 1949). Writing of her relationship with Franklin, she pictured herself as spurring him into social action, “even though the spurring was not always wanted or welcome. I was one of those who served his purposes” (Roosevelt, 1949: 349). In 1958 Eleanor’s second biographer, Albert Steinberg, continued in the laudatory vein of Black, although he pictured Eleanor as governed more by emotion than reason. Steinberg nevertheless concluded that Eleanor’s position “as the most renowned and admired woman in American history is assured” (Steinberg, 1958: 371). Like Black, he credited her with a major influence on New Deal programs, but p­ rovided no references to his sources. Subsequent scholars evaluated her contributions to the New Deal positively, while pointing out that historians have generally minimized the accomplishments of women connected with the New Deal (Sitkoff, 1985). Eleanor’s outreach to African Americans was seen as a potent political

message within the New Deal framework, although Franklin’s administration did r­elatively little to aid the civil rights cause (Kennedy, 1999). During the middle decades of the twentieth century, scholars began to move away from seeing Eleanor’s role through the prism of Franklin’s programs; arguments arose instead over the extent to which she should be viewed as an independent force in history rather than as Franklin’s wife. The first full‐length academic studies of Eleanor, both published after her death, considered her a social reformer in her own right. One pictured Eleanor as a self‐actualizing p­ersonality, in accordance with the ideas of psychologist Abraham Maslow (Hareven, 1968). The other, which concentrated on her role as first lady before World War II, found her sincere and able to communicate human suffering but “not often responsible for cogent or workable solutions” and “essentially gullible” (Kearney, 1968). The 1971 publication of Lash’s award‐ winning volume Eleanor and Franklin: The Story of Their Relationship Based on Eleanor Roosevelt Private Papers transformed b­ iographical studies of Eleanor’s White House years (Lash, 1971). A separate volume on her widowhood followed (Lash, 1972). Lash presented her life as a triumph of individual growth in which she surmounted a tragic childhood, marital infidelity, family crises, public criticism and her own feelings of insecurity into triumph as an acclaimed political leader. He lauded Eleanor as a woman of extraordinary compassion and moral goodness, who rose above adversity. Women’s historians took a somewhat different approach, situating Eleanor within the framework of progressive era social reformers and delving into her relationships from that perspective. In a multicontributor volume, well‐known historians stressed Eleanor’s activities apart from Franklin, in various organizations committed to social improvement (Hoff‐Wilson and Lightman, 1984). These biographers saw Eleanor as



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developing and exercising leadership skills through women’s networks (Ware, 1981). Arguing for study of Eleanor’s both public and private roles if her political importance was to be gauged, one contributor, William Chafee, contended that Eleanor’s life represented a struggle “to find individual fulfillment in the process of making a better world” (Hoff‐Wilson and Lightman, 1984: 3). Eleanor’s leadership skills in general were praised in another volume, which found them equal or superior to those of both her uncle Theodore and her husband (Burns and Dunn, 2001). Historians have differed on whether Eleanor should be considered a feminist or a reformer. Without doubt, Eleanor continually pressed for women to become more politically active and sought to better the lot of working women. Yet, in common with many social workers of her day, she opposed the proposed Equal Rights Amendment (ERA) for most of her career, taking the position that women needed special laws for protection rather than a constitutional amendment mandating equality. Her views differed from those of the National Women’s Party, which made the ERA “the litmus test for feminists,” so by that standard she did not qualify (Beasley et al., 2001: 163; Scharf, 1987). Not all historians, however, use support for the ERA as the main criterion for determining whether Eleanor should be called a feminist. Blanche Cook in her well‐received work presented Eleanor as an important feminist figure (Cook, 1992). Publication of Cook’s initial volume on Eleanor’s life before the White House represented a major biographical event (Cook, 1992). The book examined the miseries of Eleanor’s childhood and argued that she developed character and self‐reliance through meaningful relationships with other women, starting with Marie Souvestre, the head of her boarding school. Unlike Lash, Cook did not construe Eleanor’s eventual independence as the result of dealing with a disappointing marriage but saw it as an

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outgrowth of women‐centered personal and political associations. In the second volume of her biography, Cook continued her theme of Eleanor’s role in networks. She pictured Eleanor’s involvements as branching out to include African Americans and youth and painted her as an equal, not a subordinate, partner with Franklin during the New Deal (Cook, 1999). The publication of Cook’s third and final volume on Eleanor is expected shortly. Even though much scholarship has redefined Eleanor’s independent role, some biographers of both Eleanor and Franklin have continued to subscribe to a portrayal of Eleanor as a political associate whose compassionate values helped counterbalance Franklin’s avowed political strategies. This perspective helped shape the best‐selling account of Franklin and Eleanor during World War II (Goodwin, 1994). In addition, scholarship on first ladies has viewed Eleanor as part of a political team (Gould, 1996; Watson, 2000). A new interpretation of the influence of a strong woman on Eleanor appeared in a study of the relationship between Eleanor and her wealthy mother‐in‐law, Sara (Pottker, 2004). The author claimed that Sara had been mistreated in print by both Eleanor and her biographers, who failed to recognize the complexity of the interactions between the two women. An earlier book examined Sara and eight of Eleanor’s maternal relatives as examples of women who acted as role models of personal achievement for Eleanor (Caroli, 1998). Interest in the Roosevelt marriage was again aroused by the appearance of a book that contended that Franklin and Eleanor each found physical and emotional sustenance from others while maintaining a supportive lifelong companionship (Rowley, 2010). In dealing with Eleanor and Hick, the author concluded that Eleanor, even though she was in love with Hick, “still saw herself primarily as a man’s woman” (Rowley, 2010: 185). As far as Franklin’s

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relationship with Missy LeHand went, Missy was said to be “Franklin’s clandestine c­ompanion—his ‘second wife,’” an arrangement that both she and Eleanor accepted (Rowley, 2010: 144). Two recent academic studies of Eleanor presented other aspects of her life. One concentrated on how she broadened the role of first lady by making it a personal platform and by presenting herself as an advocate for other women who wished to move into the public world. It emphasized her desire to be her own person and have an off‐the‐record private life at the same time as she performed the traditional functions of a president’s wife (Beasley, 2010). The other offered the first comprehensive examination of her numerous ties with organized labor (O’Farrell, 2010). In conclusion, biographical work on Eleanor has shifted with the changing winds of historical research. From a secondary to an independent role, Eleanor’s life prior to Franklin’s death has been translated through the varied lens of historical disciplines (political, social, biographical, women’s and labor), as well as through those of first lady scholarship and gender studies. A true definitive biography is yet to come.

References Beasley, M. H. 1987. Eleanor Roosevelt and the Media: A Public Quest for Self‐Fulfillment. Urbana: University of Illinois Press. Beasley, M. H. 2010. Eleanor Roosevelt: Transformative First Lady. Lawrence, KS: University Press of Kansas. Beasley, M. H., ed. 1983. The White House Press Conferences of Eleanor Roosevelt. New York: Garland. Beasley, M. H., H. C. Shulman, and H. R. Beasley, eds. 2001. The Eleanor Roosevelt Encyclopedia. Westport, CT: Greenwood. Berger, J. 1981. A New Deal for the World: Eleanor Roosevelt and American Foreign Policy. New York: Social Science Monographs.

Black, A. M., ed. 1995. What I Hope to Leave Behind: The Essential Essays of Eleanor Roosevelt. New York: Carlson. Black, A. M. 1996. Casting Her Own Shadow: Eleanor Roosevelt and the Shaping of Postwar Liberalism. New York: Columbia University Press. Black, C. 2003. Franklin Delano Roosevelt: Champion of Freedom. New York: Public Affairs. Brands, H. W. 2008. Traitor to His Class: The Privileged Life and Radical Presidency of Franklin D. Roosevelt. New York: Doubleday. Bromley, D. D. 1940. “The Future of Eleanor Roosevelt.” Harper’s Magazine 180 (January): 129–139. Burns, J. M. 1956. Roosevelt: The Lion and the Fox. New York: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich. Burns, J. M. 1970 [1956]. Roosevelt: The Soldier of Freedom. New York: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich. Burns, J. M., and S. Dunn. 2001. The Three Roosevelts: Patrician Leaders Who Transformed America. New York: Atlantic Monthly Press. Caroli, B. B. 1998. The Roosevelt Women. New York: Basic. Chadakoff, R., ed. 1989. Eleanor Roosevelt’s “My Day,” 1936–1945.” New York: Pharos. Cohen, R., ed. 2002. Dear Mrs. Roosevelt: Letters from Children of the Great Depression. Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press. Cook, B. W. 1992. Eleanor Roosevelt, vol. 1: 1884–1932. New York: Viking. Cook, B. W. 1999. Eleanor Roosevelt, vol. 2: 1933–1938. New York: Viking. Costigliola, F. 2012. Roosevelt’s Lost Alliances: How Personal Politics Helped Start the Cold War. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Daniels, J. 1966. The Time between the Wars: Armistice to Pearl Harbor. Garden City, NY: Doubleday. Daniels, J. 1968. Washington Quadrille: The Dance beside the Documents. New York: Doubleday. Davis, K. S. 1972. FDR, the Beckoning of Destiny: 1882–1928. New York: Putnam’s. Davis, K. S. 1974. Invincible Summer: An Intimate Portrait of the Roosevelts. New York: Atheneum. Davis, K. S. 1985. FDR, the New York Years: 1928–1933. New York: Random House. Davis, K. S. 1986. FDR, the New Deal Years: 1933–1937. New York: Random House.



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Davis, K. S. 1993. FDR, into the Storm, 1937– 1940: A History. New York: Random House. Downey, K. 2009. The Woman Behind the New Deal. New York: Doubleday. Emblidge, D., ed. 1990. Eleanor Roosevelt’s “My Day”: Her Acclaimed Columns, vol. 2: 1945– 1952. New York: Pharos. Emblidge, D., ed. 1991. Eleanor Roosevelt’s “My Day”: Her Acclaimed Columns, vol. 3: 1953– 1962. New York: Pharos. Faber, D. 1980. The Life of Lorena Hickok: ER’s Friend. New York: Morrow. Feingold, H. L. 1980. The Politics of Rescue: The Roosevelt Administration and the Holocaust: 1938–1945. New York: Holocaust Library. Freidel, F. 1952–1973. Franklin D. Roosevelt, 4 vols. Boston: Little, Brown. Furman, B. 1949. Washington By‐line: The Personal History of a Newspaperwoman. New York: Knopf. Gallup, G. 1939. “Mrs. Roosevelt more Popular than President: Survey Finds.” Washington Post, 15 January: Section 3, p. 1. Goodwin, D. K. 1994. No Ordinary Time: Franklin and Eleanor Roosevelt: The Home Front in World War II. New York: Simon & Schuster. Gould, L. L., ed. 1996. American First Ladies: Their Lives and Their Legacy. New York: Garland. Hareven, T. K. 1968. Eleanor Roosevelt: An American Conscience. Chicago: Quadrangle. Hickok, L. A. 1962. Reluctant First Lady. New York: Dodd, Mead. Hoff‐Wilson, J., and M. Lightman, eds. 1984. Without Precedent: The Life and Career of Eleanor Roosevelt. Bloomington: Indiana University Press. Kearney, J. R. 1968. Anna Eleanor Roosevelt: The Evolution of a Reformer. Boston: Houghton Mifflin. Kennedy, D. M. 1999. Freedom from Fear: The American People in Depression and War. New York: Oxford. Knepper, C. D., ed. 2004. Dear Mrs. Roosevelt: Letters to Eleanor Roosevelt through Depression and War. New York: Carroll & Graf. Lash, J. P. 1964. A Friend’s Memoir. Garden City, NY: Doubleday. Lash, J. P. 1971. Eleanor and Franklin: The Story of Their Relationship, Based on Eleanor Roosevelt’s Private Papers. New York: Norton.

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Lash, J. P. 1972. Eleanor: The Years Alone. New York: Norton. Lash, J. P., ed. 1982. Love, Eleanor: Eleanor Roosevelt and Her Friends. Garden City, NY: Doubleday. Lash, J. P., ed. 1984. A World of Love: Eleanor Roosevelt and Her Friends, 1943–1962. Garden City, NY: Doubleday. Leuchtenburg, W. E. 1963. Franklin D. Roosevelt and the New Deal, 1932–1940. New York: Harper & Row. Lovitt, R., and M. Beasley, eds. 1981. One Third of a Nation: Lorena Hickok Reports the Great Depression. Urbana: University of Illinois Press. Marton, K. 2001. Hidden Power: Presidential Marriages that Shaped our Recent History. New York: Pantheon. Miller, N. 1983. FDR: An Intimate History. Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1983. Morgan, T. 1983. FDR: A Biography. New York: Simon & Schuster. O’Farrell, B. 2010. She Was One of Us: Eleanor Roosevelt and the American Worker. Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press. “Oracle.” 1939. Time, April 17: 22. Persico, J. E. 2008. Franklin and Lucy. New York: Random House. Pottker, J. 2004. Sara and Eleanor. New York: St. Martin’s Press. Ritchie, D. A. 2007. Electing FDR: The New Deal Campaign of 1932. Lawrence: University Press of Kansas. Rollins, A. B. 1962. Roosevelt and Howe. New York: Knopf. Roosevelt, A. E., ed. 1932. Hunting Big Game in the Eighties: The Letters of Elliott Roosevelt, Sportsman. New York: Scribner’s. Roosevelt, A. E. 1933a. It’s Up to the Women. New York: Frederick Stokes. Roosevelt, A. E. 1933b. “I Want You to Write Me.” Woman’s Home Companion 60 (August): 4. Roosevelt, A. E. 1935–1962. “My Day.” Eleanor Roosevelt Papers, Franklin D. Roosevelt Library, Hyde Park, New York. (Columns, complete file.) Roosevelt, A. E. 1937. This Is My Story. New York: Harper. Roosevelt, A. E. 1939–1940. “Mail of a President’s Wife,” “My Mail,” and “Mrs. Eleanor Roosevelt’s Own Radio Program.” Eleanor Roosevelt Papers, Franklin D.

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Roosevelt Library, Hyde Park, New York. (Unpublished article, speech and article file.) Roosevelt, A. E. 1940. The Moral Basis of Democracy. New York: Howell, Soskin. Roosevelt, A. E. 1942. Pan‐American Coffee Bureau Series, Program 21, Blue Network, 15 February. Announcer Dan Seymour. Eleanor Roosevelt Papers, Franklin D. Roosevelt Library, Hyde Park, New York. (Talk about enemy aliens, script.) Roosevelt, A. E. 1949. This I Remember. New York: Harper & Brothers. Roosevelt, A. E. 1961. The Autobiography of Eleanor Roosevelt. New York: Harper & Brothers. Rowley, H. 2010. Franklin and Eleanor: An Extraordinary Marriage. New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux. Steinberg, A. 1958. Mrs. R.: The Life of Eleanor Roosevelt. New York: Putnam’s. Scharf, L. 1987. Eleanor Roosevelt: First Lady of American Liberalism. Boston: Twayne. Schlesinger, A. M., Jr. 1975–1960. The Age of Roosevelt. 3 vols. Boston: Houghton Mifflin. Sitkoff, H., ed. 1985. Fifty Years Later: The New Deal Evaluated. Philadelphia: Temple University Press. Smith, J. E. 2007. FDR. New York: Random House.

Streitmatter, R. 1998. Empty Without You: The Intimate Letters of Eleanor Roosevelt and Lorena Hickok. New York: The Free Press. Teague, M. 1981. Mrs. L. New York: Doubleday. Ward, G. C. 1985. Before the Trumpet: Young Franklin Roosevelt. New York: Harper & Row. Ward, G. C. 1989. A First‐Class Temperament: The Emergency of Franklin Roosevelt. New York: Harper & Row. Ware, S. 1981. Beyond Suffrage: Women in the New Deal. Cambridge: Harvard University Press. Ware, S. 1987. Partner and I: Molly Dewson, Feminism, and New Deal Politics. New Haven: Yale University Press. Ware, S. 1998. Letters to the World: Seven Women Who Shaped the American Century. New York: Norton. Watson, R. P. 2000. The Presidents’ Wives: Reassessing the Office of First Lady. Boulder, CO: Lynne Rienner. Youngs, J. W. 2000. Eleanor Roosevelt: A Personal and Public Life, 2nd edn. New York: Longman.

Further Reading Black, R. 1940. Eleanor Roosevelt: A Biography. New York: Duell, Sloan, and Pearce.

Chapter Twenty Six

Eleanor Roosevelt: First Lady of the World Maurine H. Beasley

Before his death on April 12, 1945, Franklin Roosevelt had planned for an important trip with Eleanor. In spite of his declining health, Franklin wanted her to go with him on April 20 to San Francisco to attend the opening session of the United Nations, the new organization committed to a peaceful world after the end of World War II, where he was scheduled to give the opening address. A few weeks later he hoped that they could visit England and then tour the battlefields of Europe after the defeat of Germany, which was expected to occur soon (Goodwin, 1994). Discussing his plans at the end of March with Frances Perkins, s­ecretary of labor, he said: “I told Eleanor to order her clothes and get some fine ones so that she will make a really handsome appear­ ance” (Perkins, 1964: 396). The fatal cerebral hemorrhage that Franklin suffered at Warm Springs, Georgia, ended Eleanor’s prospect of attending the San Francisco meeting in the subsequent week. She followed the proceedings there keenly, writing to her aunt of her sadness that Franklin “could not see the end of his long work which he carried so magnificently” (Goodwin, 1994: 619). In the eyes of some historians, Eleanor’s interest in the United

Nations, epitomized by her eventual service there, represented a fervent desire to c­ ontribute to an organization that she p­ erceived as Franklin’s greatest legacy (Goodwin, 1994). Yet Eleanor herself had long been an advocate of international efforts at peace­ keeping. Unlike Franklin, she had been a strong supporter of the League of Nations. She also advocated the United States’ p­ articipation in the World Court more v­igorously than Franklin, who offered only a lukewarm backing when the issue came up in the Senate in 1934. Consequently the United States remained outside the Court as well as outside the League (Graham and Wander, 1985). During the 1920s and 1930s Eleanor had been a prominent m­ember of the women’s peace movement associated with Carrie Chapman Catt and had contributed an essay on the obsolescence of war to Why Wars Must Cease, a book planned by Catt and authored by her with others (Young, 1935: 20–29). As outspoken as Eleanor showed herself to be against war and on many domestic issues, nevertheless her voice was muffled on the international front, while tensions heated up in Europe. In view of the

A Companion to First Ladies, First Edition. Edited by Katherine A. S. Sibley. © 2016 John Wiley & Sons, Inc. Published 2016 by John Wiley & Sons, Inc.

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isolationist sentiment in the United States, both Franklin and the US state department urged her to be discreet in dealing with pro­ tests against Hitler’s initial actions (Cook, 1999). When totalitarian aggression emerged in ever more frightening form, Eleanor changed her stance on pacifism and came to believe that the United States had a moral obligation to go to war. She spoke up in public: I have never believed that war settled any­ thing satisfactorily, but I am not entirely sure that some times there are certain situ­ ations … when a country is worse off when it does not go to war for its principles than if it went to war. (Quoted in Black, 1996: 138)

She supported the Allied cause avidly during World War II, tying together the twin goals of defeating fascism abroad and broadening democracy at home by extending civil l­iberties to all citizens (Beasley et al., 2001). Yet, as a wife and not a government o­fficial, Eleanor played a limited role when Franklin and other world leaders met to set up what became the United Nations. She was not present when Franklin and Winston Churchill, prime minister of England, met secretly off the coast of Newfoundland in 1941, four months before Pearl Harbor, to draft the Atlantic Charter, which outlined the principles of a world peace. Nor was she at the Teheran Conference of November– December 1943, the first meeting between Franklin, Churchill, and the Soviet premier, Joseph Stalin—the group known as “the Big Three,” who took up planning for the p­ostwar world. All the same, in November, just before the conference, Eleanor wrote in her “My Day” column about the need for an international organization designed to help people all over the world after the war ended. Both Eleanor and her daughter Anna begged Franklin to allow them to attend the Teheran meeting, particularly since he had asked two of his sons, Elliott and Franklin Junior, as well as John Boettiger, Anna’s

husband, to leave their military posts and join him. Franklin refused on the grounds that the meeting was exclusively male, a claim soon refuted by newspaper pictures of Sarah Churchill, Winston Churchill’s daughter, and Madame Chiang Kai‐shek, the wife of China’s president, meeting the presidential party in Cairo en route to Teheran. “I wish you had let me fly out,” Eleanor wrote Franklin (Goodwin, 1994: 475–476). Eleanor had considerable dealings with Churchill, whom she met nine times between August 1941 and February 1945, frequently at the White House. She found him a difficult guest, who slept during the day and worked at night, keeping Franklin awake: “It always took him several days to catch up on sleep after Mr. Churchill left” (Roosevelt, 1961: 232). More importantly, she disagreed with Churchill’s support of imperialistic policies and insistence on main­ taining the British Empire after the war ended. Still, he sometimes served her pur­ poses. After Churchill told Franklin that he planned to bring his wife, Clementine, to the Quebec conference in 1944, Franklin decided to take Eleanor. The two women were well acquainted, since Eleanor had vis­ ited the Churchills in 1942 on her trip to England, when she had studied the role British women were playing in the war. But she would be disappointed. In Quebec the wives went shopping and drinking tea together but took no substantial part in the session, which debated the future of Germany. “The ladies’ duties are all social,” Eleanor complained. “It seems like such a waste of time” (Goodwin, 1994: 543). Franklin’s decision to take Anna, not Eleanor, to the Yalta conference in 1945 hurt Eleanor’s feelings. A sick man, Franklin needed someone to sit by his side and look after his physical well‐being, responsibilities that Eleanor, who apparently did not recog­ nize the extent of Franklin’s illness, was unlikely to carry out (Goodwin, 1994; Smith, 2007). Franklin’s frustration at



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Eleanor’s insistence on prodding him about her causes made his blood pressure soar (Costiglioia, 2012). The conference followed Franklin’s fourth inauguration on January 20 and made an enormous impact on the postwar world. The Big Three tackled the world’s pressing questions: the fate of Germany, which was headed for certain defeat; the redrawing of boundaries for Poland and other Eastern European countries; the future of East Asia, which the Japanese occupied; and the establishment of the new United Nations organization, which was meant to ensure peace in the years ahead. The accords brought the Allied coalition together in the venture of finishing the war but gave rise later to criticism that too much had been yielded to communist Russia— especially dominion over Eastern Europe, (Graham and Wander, 1985). Eleanor’s interest in the conference centered on p­rovisions for the United Nations. Less than two months after returning from Yalta, Franklin suffered a fatal cerebral hemorrhage at the Little White House in Warm Springs, Georgia, where he had gone for a rest. He had been accompanied there by three admiring women—his secretary Grace Tully and two cousins, Daisy Suckley and Polly Delano—but not by his wife. Eleanor was attending a benefit tea for a thrift shop in Washington when she was called back to the White House and given the tragic news. Supposedly she remarked: “I am more sorry for the people of the country and world than I am for myself”— although she subsequently said she did not remember making that comment (Chadakoff, 1989: 388). To Eleanor fell the painful task of inform­ ing Vice President Harry S. Truman that Franklin had died. The stunned Truman asked if there was anything he could do for her, but Eleanor turned the question around and asked: “Is there anything we can do for you,” for “you are the one in trouble now” (Burns and Dunn, 2001: 495). After

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attending Truman’s swearing in as presi­ dent, she left for Warm Springs. Immediately upon arrival she learned from Polly Delano, Franklin’s cousin, that Lucy Mercer Rutherfurd, the beautiful woman for whose sake Franklin had consid­ ered divorcing her in 1918, had been with him when he was stricken. By then a widow herself, Lucy had brought an artist friend to Warm Springs to paint Franklin’s portrait. Further wounding Eleanor, Polly told her that Lucy, whom Franklin had promised he would never see again when he decided against a divorce, had visited Franklin repeatedly at the White House. She said that Anna had facilitated the meetings and been present at them (Persico, 2008). Eleanor felt betrayed by her own daugh­ ter (Willis, 2004). Anguish over Franklin’s death and Anna’s role in Lucy’s visits over­ whelmed her as she rode on the train that carried Franklin’s body back to Washington for a White House funeral to be followed by burial at Hyde Park. She grieved as the train passed crowds of mourners who lined the tracks. On her return, she confronted Anna about Lucy’s visits. Anna’s biographer said: “The conversation ended with a chill that wouldn’t easily go away” (Asbell, 1982: 387). Within a week Eleanor moved out of the White House, with personal possessions of the Roosevelts packed in twenty army trucks (McCullough, 1992). She first went to her apartment in New York, but planned to also live in Val‐Kill cottage, on the Roosevelt estate at Hyde Park. Franklin’s will provided for Springwood—his mother’s home, known as the “Big House”—to be deeded to the federal government as a museum if Eleanor and the five children agreed. They quickly did so, aware (as Franklin had been) that the cost of maintaining the mansion would be prohibitive in the postwar world and that Eleanor would not be happy living in her mother‐in‐law’s home. Facing an uncertain future, Eleanor told her old friend, journalist Lorena Hickok, even though the two women were no longer as

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close as they had once been: “Franklin’s death ended a period in history & now in its wake those of us who laid in his shadow have to start again under our own momentum & wonder what we can achieve” (Rowley, 2010: 287). In Eleanor’s case the years ahead ended in extraordinary accomplishments. While different views may have arisen about her private life, historians show little division on the symbolic importance of her career to postwar liberalism (Black, 1996). A widow at the age of sixty, she went on to become an icon to the entire world (Beasley et al., 2001). As a public figure, she wrote books and magazine articles, broadcast on both radio and television, gave lectures, traveled widely, wielded influence in the Democratic Party, and promoted liberal political causes. Appointed by President Truman, Eleanor served as the only woman delegate from the United States to the United Nations from the end of 1945 until 1952 and earned widespread respect as the guiding spirit behind the UN Declaration on Human Rights (Glendon, 2001). In recognition of her contributions to society, Eleanor received twenty‐nine h­onorary doctorates after Franklin’s death, in addition to the six granted her previously (Beasley et al., 2001). The degrees awarded from 1945 on illustrated her worldwide fame: apart from those from the United States, four were from universities in Canada, four from universities in India, one from a joint Indian and Iranian institution, and two from France. There were also three others from Europe—one from Oxford and two from universities in the Netherlands and Italy respectively (Beasley et al., 2001). Eleanor remained a revered figure in the Democratic Party until her death in 1962. Her papers, which recorded her personal and private reactions to postwar social and political movements, are housed in some six hundred different collections, only about half of them housed at the Roosevelt Library at Hyde Park (Black, 2012). The Eleanor

Roosevelt papers project at George Washington University is now endeavoring to locate her archival material and to publish it in five authoritative volumes that should cover her years after the White House. So far two volumes have appeared (Black, 2007, 2012). Twenty‐first‐century writers called atten­ tion to Eleanor’s leadership qualities, prais­ ing her political wisdom on both the national and the international stage and making her into a role model for women today (Burns and Dunn, 2001; Gerber, 2002). At the personal level, she tried to keep peace among her troubled children and lavished love on a small coterie of friends. Yet, as she aged, her greatest loyalty lay, in a broad moral sense, with the world community, where she symbolized the cause of human rights (Burns and Dunn, 2001). Bibliographical Concerns In recent years historians and biographers confronted the issue of integrating the com­ plexities of Eleanor’s private life and public life. Authors expressed various views on the question of what impact Franklin’s death had on her subsequent career. Some viewed her efforts at the United Nations and else­ where as motivated chiefly by a desire to keep alive the memory of her husband’s leadership (Lash, 1972; Goodwin, 1994). Other writers explored social, emotional, and gender factors that enabled Eleanor to use her White House experience as the nation’s most active first lady in order to forge her later career (Beasley, 2010; Burns and Dunn, 2001; Scharf, 1987). Franklin’s death has been seen as freeing her from the constraints of being a president’s wife and as enabling her to construct her own liberal legacy, especially in the area of civil rights (Black, 1996). Her good friend Joseph P. Lash, a f­requent visitor to Val‐Kill, has written the only work that attempts to gather the



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tangled threads of her post‐White House life (Lash, 1972). Titled Eleanor: The Years Alone, it picks up her story where his first best‐selling book, Eleanor and Franklin, ended (Lash, 1971, 1972). To date, Lash’s biography remains the most comprehensive account of Eleanor’s life after Franklin’s death (Lash, 1972). Authorized by the Roosevelt family and written by a man who was her confidant, it contains material that remains invaluable despite the passage of more than forty years. Lash, who became a journalist after World War II, also edited two books of Eleanor’s letters that expressed her affection for v­ arious friends (Lash, 1982, 1984). Appearing shortly after the Roosevelt Library at Hyde Park opened access to Eleanor’s passionate correspondence with Hickok, which suggested a possible lesbian relationship between the two (see Chapter 25 in this book), these collections attempted to defuse controversy over the Hickok material by demonstrating Eleanor’s effusive style of writing. For example, included in the second volume was a 1956 birthday letter from Eleanor to Lash, saying: “I love you very dearly & to see you inter­ ested & content inwardly means much to me” (Lash, 1984: 453). The tone of the l­etters edited by Lash, however, appeared to reveal less depth of emotion than Eleanor’s edited correspondence with Hickok (Streitmatter, 1998). Like the three books on the Roosevelt family co‐authored by Eleanor’s son Elliott, Lash’s work cannot be considered truly objective (Roosevelt and Brough, 1973, 1977; Roosevelt, 1975). Numerous authors have addressed p­ ortions of Eleanor’s post‐White House career. Truman’s biographer reveals that president’s considerable contact with Eleanor, whom he appointed to the United Nations (McCullough, 1992). Seeking to carry on the Roosevelt legacy, Truman knew that Eleanor had a powerful following in the Democratic Party and appealed particularly to African American voters (Neal, 2002).

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Eleanor’s recently published papers testify to her power as a political figure speaking up for civil rights at home and for human rights internationally (Black, 2012). One of her first acts after Franklin’s death was to join the board of the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People (NAACP). She later found herself in an awkward position as a US Representative at the United Nations, when NAACP activists pushed for the international condemnation of racial barriers at home and she refused to back their appeal, in line with state depart­ ment policy (Black, 1996). Long after Lash’s book appeared, p­ublished correspondence between Eleanor and President Truman testified to the ombudswoman role that she tried to play in his administration. She sent him letter after letter that questioned his actions, offered advice, and lobbied him regarding policies and practices in both Washington and the United Nations. The correspondence revealed disagreement over Cold War issues and Eleanor’s wavering support for the man who sent her to the United Nations in the election of 1948 (Beasley et al., 2001; Neal, 2002). A spate of books that appeared after her death in 1962 brought up new questions about the Roosevelt family that gave rise to whiffs of scandal. Accounts of Franklin’s intimacy with Lucy Mercer and relation­ ships with other women—including with his outwardly prim distant cousin, Margaret Suckley, known as “Daisy”—pictured Eleanor as emotionally distant, inattentive, and not the most significant feminine figure in Franklin’s life at the White House (Persico, 2008; Willis, 2004; Ward, 1995). Other books took up the matter of Eleanor’s intimacy with Hickok (Faber, 1980; Streitmatter, 1998) and delved deeply into unconventional aspects of the Roosevelt marriage (Rowley, 2010). Those writing on Franklin’s last illness pointed out that Eleanor overlooked Franklin’s declining physical condition, badgering him about her

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various causes when he needed to relax, even after she had been warned to avoid placing extra strain on her husband (Asbell, 1982; Ferrell, 1998). Three volumes on the Roosevelts authored and co‐authored by her son Elliott purported to reveal a true picture of the Roosevelt fam­ ily (Roosevelt and Brough, 1973, 1977; Roosevelt, 1975). Elliott, who appeared to occupy a special place in Eleanor’s heart, pre­ viously wrote a controversial book about Franklin’s plans for the postwar world that his mother defended against charges of i­ naccuracy (Roosevelt, 1946; Lash, 1972). She also gave him permission to edit four v­olumes of Franklin’s letters. In the preface to the first volume about his family, Elliott complained about Eleanor’s portrayal “as a latter‐day Joan of Arc, incapable of error or sin” (Roosevelt and Brough, 1973: x). His mother, he con­ tinued, “whose idolaters are largely respon­ sible for this mangling of the record of yesterday, would have been among the first to acknowledge that” (Roosevelt and Brough, 1973: x). The trilogy, apparently written in response to Lash’s books, which treated Eleanor as noble and unselfish, p­ictured her as insecure, insensitive to her children when they were growing up, and an uneasy party to an unhappy marriage— someone who wanted “power and influence, provided it was in her own right and her own name” (Roosevelt and Brough, 1973: 317). The first and second books gave Elliott’s view of Franklin’s closeness to Missy LeHand, his secretary, and suggested a sexual relationship (Roosevelt and Brough, 1973; Roosevelt, 1975). Like Lash’s book, Elliott’s third volume told of bickering among the Roosevelt chil­ dren after Franklin’s death and of Eleanor’s efforts to deal with friction between Elliott and his younger brother John when they lived close to her at Val‐Kill (Lash, 1972; Roosevelt and Brough, 1977). Describing strains in the Roosevelt family, Elliot wrote from the self‐serving perspective of a son

who obtained considerable money from Eleanor as he moved in and out of both business ventures and marriages and for a period of years served as her agent. Although Eleanor sought to earn money from writing, broadcasting, and lecturing partly because she wanted to aid her five children, who had financial problems as well as multiple divorces, Elliott referred to his mother’s lack of rapport with her family. In his con­ clusion he wrote: “Throughout her life, she had received scant solace from her family. … blind to her immense capacity for love, compassion and understanding” (Roosevelt and Brough, 1977: 274). Elliott’s son, David B. Roosevelt, wrote a more sympathetic tribute to Eleanor, whom he, in common with her twenty‐one other grandchildren, called “grandmère” (Roosevelt, 2002). He quoted Eleanor as saying that Franklin’s death was not a “p­ersonal sorrow,” but a blow to “all those to whom this man who happened to be my husband … had been a symbol of strength and fortitude” (Roosevelt, 2002: 197). He concluded that Eleanor ”could not r­ ecognize [her] lingering but repressed love” for Franklin (Roosevelt, 2002: 197). Elliott’s first book, which presented details of the warmth between Franklin and Missy while picturing Eleanor as a fault‐ finding and cold parent, generated conflict with the other Roosevelt children. In response, James ‘Jimmy” Roosevelt, the oldest son, wrote his own book, which he claimed corrected the errors of previous works, and speculated that his mother had an affair with Earl Miller, her former body­ guard and devoted friend (Roosevelt, 1976). Earlier on he had written a book on his father to which Eleanor gave a mixed review in her “My Day” column, objecting to James’s criticism of Henrietta Nesbitt, her White House housekeeper (Roosevelt and Shalett, 1959). In addition, the correspondence between Eleanor and her daughter Anna was pub­ lished after the death of both women and



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revealed a complex relationship, in which Anna was both forthright and evasive (Asbell, 1982). In a memoir about his famous grandparents, Anna’s son Curtis praised Eleanor for her heart‐felt concern for others. Yet, he said, “empathy eluded my grandmother when it came to family m­embers” (Roosevelt, 2008: 22). In his book on Eleanor as a widow, Lash (1972) drew on personal papers at the Roosevelt library as well as on the biography On My Own, her own account of her activi­ ties from 1945 until 1958 (Roosevelt, 1958). On My Own was subsequently included, in revised form, in The Autobiography of Eleanor Roosevelt, which also contained abbreviated versions of two previous autobiographies that covered her earlier life (Roosevelt, 1960). These two volumes were among some dozen non­ fiction books written or co‐authored by Eleanor from 1946 until 1962, most of which explained the workings of the United Nations or offered advice for personal fulfill­ ment (Roosevelt, 1953, 1960). Two were compilations of her responses to questions submitted to her question‐and‐answer m­ agazine columns (Roosevelt, 1946, 1954). One, co‐authored with Hickok, praised the achievements of women in p­ublic office (Roosevelt and Hickok, 1954). Beside Eleanor and her family members, a range of other authors have looked at her postwar life. Two of them concentrated on Eleanor’s views on foreign policy and on her outstanding performance at the United Nations (Berger, 1981; Glendon, 2001). The latter was a well‐received work that highlighted Eleanor’s achievement in s­ hepherding the Universal Declaration of Human Rights, the world’s first interna­ tional bill of rights, through the United Nations (Glendon, 2001). Various aspects of Eleanor’s career at the United Nations were also treated in encyclopedia format (Beasley et al., 2001). Allida Black edited a volume of her significant political writings, including a selection of “My Day” columns,

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which featured her views on human rights and the Cold War (Black, 1999). The com­ plicated relationship between Eleanor and David Gurewitsch, her doctor and compan­ ion for the last fifteen years of her life, was treated by Gurewitsch’s widow in a memoir (Gurewitsch, 2002). It projected Eleanor as a woman who struggled to overcome depression and jealousy and sometimes felt inadequate. Unfortunately the array of material about Eleanor generally dealt with one or more aspects of her career and did not convey the entire story of her multifaceted life. There is no standard, objective source on Eleanor’s years after the White House years that pulls together the various strands of her private and public life. This daunting task would have to include elements of diplomatic, political, journalistic, cultural, and social history as well as offering insights into her relationships with family and close friends. On Her Own Before leaving the White House, Eleanor held a farewell tea for the women reporters who had covered her press conferences. She declined to be quoted directly but repeated an announcement she had made in her “My Day” column. She intended to become a newspaperwoman herself, focusing on her column and question‐and‐answer page for the Ladies’ Home Journal. In fact she resumed writing her “My Day” column on April 16, only four days after Franklin’s death (Beasley, 1987). She endeavored to channel grief into national dedication to Franklin’s ideas: “The Almighty is trying to show us that a leader may chart the way, may point out the road to lasting peace, but that many leaders and many peoples must do the building” (Lash, 1972: 19). Only a week after Franklin’s passing, she used her column to deny rumors that she was a candidate for public office. She stated that “nothing would induce me to run” or

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accept an appointment at that time (Chadakoff, 1989: 392). When she was pro­ posed as a candidate for the US Senate from New York, she refused to run because she did not want to interfere with the political aspirations of two of her sons, James and Franklin Junior, both of whom hoped to follow in Franklin’s footsteps (Lash, 1972). Eleanor seemed relieved to leave the White House on April 23, just eleven days after Franklin Delano Roosevelt died. Before her departure she gave a tour to Bess Truman and her daughter Margaret, who were shocked to find the mansion in poor condition, with cracked plaster, threadbare carpets, and rotting draperies (Neal, 2002: 25). Housekeeping had not been high on Eleanor’s agenda during her years as first lady and she had not spent the $50,000 that Congress had assigned for the maintenance of the White House. She wrote later: “It was almost as though I had erected someone outside myself who was the president’s wife. I was lost somewhere deep down inside myself. That is the way I felt and worked until I left the White House” (Roosevelt, 1949: 280). In common with many women, as a recent widow Eleanor appeared unsure of the direction of her life. When a reporter tried to interview her outside her New York apartment, she replied simply: “The story is over,” and hurried away (Lash, 1972: 15; Goodwin, 1994: 619). Lash’s biography attributed her remark to her modesty and emotional insecurity, but it could also have been reflective of the depression that Eleanor experienced from time to time (Lash, 1972). It is hard to imagine that a woman with Eleanor’s career and social interests saw her personal story tied so tightly to her husband that his death would end her own aspirations to work for causes in which she believed. Immediately after Franklin’s death, she began her efforts to promote his legacy— including in the aforementioned “My Day” column, where she sought to inspire the

nation to carry out her husband’s objectives for a peaceful world. For the rest of her life, Eleanor championed Franklin’s ideas and spoke warmly of him. She wrote to an old friend, Esther Lape, that her love for Franklin had died years ago, but that she had rendered him a service of love by help­ ing him advance his objectives (Lash, 1972). Referring to Franklin in her autobio­ graphy, she wrote that she had never known a man “who gave one a greater sense of security” (Roosevelt, 1949: 68). Yet she also wrote that Franklin might have been happier with a wife who was completely uncritical. That I was never able to be. … I sometimes acted as a spur, even though the spurring was not always welcome or wanted. I was one of those who served his purposes. (Roosevelt, 1949: 349)

Maureen Corr, who became Eleanor’s secretary after the death of her invaluable assistant Malvina “Tommy” Thompson in 1953, recalled that Eleanor talked constantly “about what Franklin did or what Franklin said. … And every time she mentioned his name you could hear the emotion in her voice and see the glow in her eyes” (Goodwin, 1994: 633). Freed from the necessity of bringing “My Day” in line with a White House agenda, Eleanor used the column much as we use blogs today, to focus more closely on political issues. Following Franklin’s death, the column immediately gained circulation, appearing in ninety newspapers (Lash, 1972). Presumably readers were eager to know how she coped with widowhood. Although the number of newspapers carry­ ing “My Day” eventually dropped to fewer than forty toward the end of Eleanor’s life, the column continued to be a staple of American journalism, giving her a unique personal platform that became a voice for civil rights and other liberal causes (Beasley et al., 2001).



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In “My Day” she wrote of life at Hyde Park after Franklin’s funeral when she and her secretary coped with “three clothes‐baskets filled with mail,” expressing the public’s grief over Franklin’s death (Emblidge, 1990: 14). Readers liked stories of human interest— like that of her efforts to ready the “Big House” for transfer to the United States government, or that of her walks in the woods with Fala, Franklin’s beloved Scottie. Domestic pursuits engaged her as she pur­ chased some 800 acres of Roosevelt land from Franklin’s estate in order to establish a farming operation with Elliott, whom she considered her most troubled child and to whom she deeded the property. It included Top Cottage, which Franklin had built as his own hideaway, and this inclusion prompted Eleanor to explain to her other children that they would still “get from the estate all that you would probably have received in any case” (Lash, 1972: 172). Elliott and his third wife, actress Faye Emerson, moved into Top Cottage and eventually Eleanor’s youngest son John and his family moved into Stone Cottage, next door to her Val‐Kill home. Unfortunately the farming operation failed and Elliott sold off the land, including Top Cottage, without telling his mother; Eleanor thus decided to terminate their business relationship (Burns and Dunn, 2001). Elliott left Hyde Park in 1952 after friction developed between his fourth wife, Minnewa Bell, and John’s family (Roosevelt and Brough, 1977). Meanwhile, Eleanor’s “My Day” col­ umns showed that her concerns ranged far beyond Hyde Park. When the nation cheered the defeat of Germany on VE Day—May 9, 1945—she told readers that she could not partake in the “spirit of cele­ bration” when millions were living in devas­ tated countries and she called on Americans “to share with our brothers” (Emblidge, 1990: 17). While she did not oppose drop­ ping the atomic bomb on Japan to bring an end to World War II, she insisted in “My

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Day” on August 8, “This discovery must spell the end of war” (Black, 1999: 115). Although she rarely commented on t­ heological matters, Eleanor remained a faithful Episcopalian throughout her life and described Jesus Christ as the greatest figure in history in her Ladies’ Home Journal advice column (Roosevelt, 1946). To her, Christianity represented a set of values that underlay her interest in social justice (Beasley et al., 2001). This interest was also evident in her using “My Day” to back legislation in aid of ordinary citizens—on July 10, for example, she supported a bill in favor of “equal pay for equal work for women,” and on September 7 she advocated the passage of national health insurance (Emblidge, 1991: xv), a measure that President Truman endorsed. After departing from Washington, Eleanor began a lengthy correspondence with Truman, who she initially feared would not be up to his new position. While Truman sometimes resented her efforts, he treated her respectfully, mindful of his need for s­upport from the New Deal political coalition, which she symbolized. When he telephoned in December 1945 to ask her to accept an appointment as a delegate to the United Nations, she ini­ tially refused, invoking her lack of interna­ tional experience; but she accepted after her children and close friends urged her to do so (Lash, 1972). To “My Day” readers she explained that she took the assignment not only in order to further Franklin’s hopes for an international organization dedicated to promoting peace, but because “I myself had always believed that women might have a better chance to bring about the understanding necessary to prevent future wars if they could serve in sufficient numbers in these international bodies” (Glendon, 2001: 24). Congress voted almost unanimously in favor of the appoint­ ment—only Theodore Bilbo, a racist s­enator from Mississippi, opposed it (Lash, 1972; Scharf, 1987).

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First Lady of the World The only woman on the first US delegation to the United Nations, which was holding its initial general assembly in London, Eleanor was not welcomed by her colleagues, who saw her as an unqualified figurehead. Other members of the five‐person delega­ tion possessed an extensive background in foreign affairs. They were Secretary of State James F. Byrnes, former Secretary of State Edward Stettinius, Senator Tom Connally (D‐Texas), chairman of the Senate Foreign Relations Committee, and Senator Arthur H. Vandenberg (R‐MI), the ranking Republican on the committee. In addition, there were five male alternates—including John Foster Dulles, who later became secretary of state. The delegation assigned her to the UN Committee Three, which dealt with humanitarian, social, and cultural issues, presumably—as she wrote in her autobio­ graphy—because the other delegates thought “she can’t do much harm there” (Roosevelt, 1961: 303). Given the cold shoulder she received from her colleagues, Eleanor spent her time on board the Queen Elizabeth, studying state department documents in order to prepare for her new assignment and earning herself a reputation for hard work that marked her entire UN service. Ironically, Committee Three turned out to house one of the hottest issue of the London meeting: how to handle the one million refugees, mainly from Eastern Europe, who were then living in displaced persons’ camps. The Soviet Union argued that the refugees should be returned to their countries of origin, some of which had been taken over by communist govern­ ments. Western nations opposed forced repatriation on the grounds that large numbers would be killed because they opposed the current regimes. The Soviet Union sent Andrei Vishinsky, best known for being the chief prosecutor in Stalin’s purge trials in Moscow, to argue the c­ommunist case.

The only member of the US delegation versed in the refugee question, Eleanor was asked by Dulles to counter Vishinsky’s argu­ ment. She spoke brilliantly and extempora­ neously, advocating the right of the displaced to choose where they wished to go, and the majority of Committee Three members sided with her (Glendon, 2001). After a late‐night vote in favor of her position, Vandenberg and Dulles, the US delegates most critical of her appointment, apologized for their initial hostility. They told her that they had done all they could to keep her off the delegation: “We begged the President not to nominate you. But now we feel we must acknowledge that we have worked with you gladly and found you good to work with” (Roosevelt, 1961: 308). Eleanor wrote that their words “made the weariness drop from my shoulders” (Roosevelt, 1961: 308). At the conclusion of the London meeting in 1946, Eleanor wanted to see for herself the situation in refugee camps. She visited a dev­ astated Germany, where a number of camps had been set up. At one camp an elderly Jewish woman knelt down and grabbed Eleanor’s knees, repeatedly m­ urmuring “Israel” (Roosevelt, 1961: 310). The inci­ dent helped convince Eleanor that a Jewish homeland should be created there. Later she became a strong advocate for Israel. After her return to New York, Truman nominated her to serve on the nuclear com­ mission on human rights—a nucleus of nine persons charged with making recommenda­ tions regarding the establishment of a p­ ermanent UN Commission on Human Rights. Fluent in French, which she had mastered at boarding school years before, Eleanor was unanimously elected chair of the nuclear commission’s meeting at Hunter College. Subsequently she was nominated by Truman and confirmed in a four‐year appointment as a member of the US delega­ tion to the UN General Assembly, which was setting up temporary headquarters at Lake Success, New York.



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The nine‐person nuclear commission called for the permanent commission to write a bill of human rights (Glendon, 2001). When representatives of the perma­ nent group, which consisted of eighteen member states and thirteen others that would rotate off and on, met at Lake Success in the winter of 1947, Eleanor was unani­ mously elected chair. It was a tribute to her enormous prestige as a champion of human­ itarian causes. Only one other woman was a member of the UN Human Rights Commission—Hansa Mehta of India. At the time of her election, Eleanor informed her “My Day” readers that, sadly, she had lost her driver’s license on account of reckless driving, due to an accident the previous August, when she had fallen asleep while driving from Hyde Park to New York (Lash, 1972; Glendon, 2001). Her vehicle had struck another car and sideswiped a sec­ ond one. But no one had been seriously injured and in a sense she had benefitted. The accident had broken off her two front teeth, but, as she wrote in her column at the time, “[n]ow I shall have two lovely porce­ lain ones, which will look far better than the rather protruding large teeth which most of the Roosevelts have” (Lash, 1972: 59). In fact, pictures taken of her after the accident show a more attractive smile than previously. Eleanor had no intention of giving up driving, however; she applied for another license. In her role as chair of the Human Rights Commission, which met as a full body in Geneva in the fall of 1947, Eleanor presided over the debate on the draft of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights, considered today one of the world’s most important legal documents. Arguments over the word­ ing brought out critical differences between three different voting blocs in the United Nations: western capitalist countries, which wanted to protect individuals from r­epressive governments; Soviet‐dominated countries, which called for state action to guarantee health care, housing, and employment; and third‐world countries, many newly freed

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from colonialism and unsure of their d­ irection. As rhetoric heightened over the question of whether the rights of the i­ ndividual were more important than the rights of the state, Eleanor found herself caught up in the emerging Cold War between the United States and the Soviet Union. Although increasingly frustrated in her dealings with Russian delegates, she attempted to know them at a personal level. Her dinners and teas fostered cross‐cultural understanding, even though she wrote rue­ fully in her autobiography: “My practice of inviting delegates of various nations to tea or to dinner sometimes worked out well with the Russians and on other occasions didn’t work at all” (Roosevelt, 1958: 115). She understood that Russian delegates were bound by orders from Moscow, somewhat as she herself was constrained by state depart­ ment policy. As an official US Representative, for example, she turned down Walter White, president of the NAACP, when he asked her to accompany him as he petitioned the United Nations to endorse civil rights for American blacks. She wrote to White, who was also an old friend, that she would like to join him as an individual, “but as a member of the delegation I feel that … I should not seem to be lining myself up in any particular way on any subject” (Glendon, 2001: 82). Carol Anderson (2003) is critical of her for missing such an opportunity to do more for African Americans while on this commis­ sion—a cause that Eleanor has long won plaudits for. In spite of her lack of full autonomy, however, Eleanor still had more influence over US policy than most other delegates, because she had ready access to Truman. This became clear in connection with moves to create a Jewish state in order to provide for refugees from the Holocaust. In 1947 Eleanor voted for the implementation of a  resolution to partition Palestine into a Jewish and an Arab state, so as to allow for a Jewish homeland there. She argued for months, in correspondence with Truman

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and Secretary of State George Marshall, that the US should implement partition. When it appeared that the US was backing away from partition in favor of a trusteeship arrangement that might require the use of US troops, she offered to resign from the United Nations. Truman recoiled at the prospect, imploring her to stay on (Lash, 1972; Glendon, 2001). Perhaps spurred by her position, the pres­ ident moved rapidly in May 1948 to extend recognition to the new state of Israel. He did not tell his own UN representatives in advance, an action that Eleanor resented because she thought it belittled the United Nations (Lash, 1972; Burns and Dunn, 2001; Neal, 2002). In the years ahead, her enthusiasm for Israel increased. She criticized Arab leaders and communists for keeping Arab refugees “stirred up” and praised Israel for economic development in the face of Arab backwardness (Lash, 1972: 137). A staunch supporter of economic and military aid to Israel, she made trips there in 1952, 1959, and shortly before her death in 1962, finding a hopefulness and sense of purpose in the new nation that she did not detect in the Arab world. Eleanor’s reservations over Truman’s performance provoked her to endorse him only belatedly and unenthusiastically when he ran for reelection in 1948 (Neal, 2002). After his upset victory, she lamented in a let­ ter to a friend that Truman “made so many promises which can only be carried out if he gets good people around him & that he hasn’t done successfully yet!” (Neal, 2002: 150). Three of her sons, James, Franklin Junior, and Elliott, all had taken part in a movement to bypass Truman and nominate Dwight D. Eisenhower as the democratic presidential candidate, until Eisenhower declined to run on that ticket. Perhaps in retaliation, Truman did not endorse James in his unsuccessful bid for the governorship of California in 1950. This caused Eleanor to consider resigning from the United Nations, but friends urged her

to remain (Lash, 1972). James subsequently won six elections for the House of Representatives from California, while Franklin Junior served three terms in Congress from New York but was defeated for the governorship of that state. Both sons had multiple marriages and did not live up to Eleanor’s hopes that they would ascend to political heights like their father. In spite of their differences, Eleanor and Truman worked together during his second term. She supported the North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO) in its attempt to contain a communist domination of Europe and she also backed Truman’s c­ ommitment of US forces to aid South Korea after it was attacked by North Korea. In return, he came to her defense in 1949, when she objected in “My Day” to efforts to obtain federal aid for parochial schools and was accused by Cardinal Francis Spellman of being anti‐Catholic and of t­aking a stand “unworthy of an American mother” (Lash, 1972: 158), When Eleanor answered him calmly in “My Day,” writing: “The final judgment, my dear Cardinal Spellman, of the worthiness of all human beings is in the hand of God,” public o­pinion flowed in her direction (Lash, 1972: 159; Neal, 2002: 166). Aware that she had antagonized segments of the Catholic Church, Eleanor told Truman that she would understand if he chose not to nominate her again to the United Nations. He replied immediately that it was “more necessary now than ever” for her to be there (Neal, 2002: 166). The incident ended when the cardinal visited her at Val‐Kill and the two issued clarifying statements saying that the Catholic Church sought aid for auxiliary services like transportation, not general support for religious schools. In her role at the United Nations, Eleanor proved herself a potent debater. When the Soviets demanded investigation of the con­ ditions confronting African Americans in the United States on the basis of the NAACP petition, Eleanor held her own, beginning a



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reply with a self‐deprecatory comment such as: “Now, of course, I’m a woman and don’t understand all these things” (Lash, 1972: 69). She would then make statements to the effect that the United States would agree to an examination of its social practices by the Soviets if American observers could do the same in the Soviet Union; or she would defang her adversaries by quietly noting US shortcomings and saying that the nation was committed to improvement. “Never have I seen naïveté and cunning so gracefully blended,” one state department official said (Lash, 1972: 69; Burns and Dunn, 2001: 523). At issue in the debate over the proposed Declaration of Human Rights was the ques­ tion of enforcement. While a declaration had moral force, the United Kingdom led a campaign for a covenant on rights, which would serve as a treaty legally binding on the nations that signed it. In a rare show of unity, both the United States and the Soviet bloc wished to avoid legal commitments, although the Soviets, unlike the Americans, had little interest in a declaration, preferring to keep all their internal affairs to themselves (Glendon, 2001). Eleanor’s aim was a declaration that would have moral value, with goals that all nations could work toward. As chair, she split the Human Rights Commission into three committees, which proceeded to work on a covenant and means of implementation as well as on a declaration. She herself headed the third committee, which drafted the declaration. According to a key aide, Eleanor did not always perform her duties as chair well; but, “when he made a mistake, it was usually because she had been badly advised by her State Department assistants” (Burns and Dunn, 2001: 524). After seemingly endless debate and par­ liamentary maneuvering during which Eleanor insisted that the document must be written in simple language and be accepta­ ble to different cultures, the draft of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights was completed in 1948. In a preamble and in

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thirty articles, it called for basic human rights and freedoms for all men and women and proclaimed basic civil, economic, politi­ cal, and social rights. On December 10, 1948 Eleanor stood before the UN General Assembly and called for its adoption, com­ paring the declaration to the US Bill of Rights. While the Soviet bloc of six coun­ tries joined by South Africa and Saudi Arabia abstained, 48 countries voted for it and none opposed it. It was a stunning victory for Eleanor (Burns and Dunn, 2001). For the first time in history, the world community had declared itself in favor of fundamental rights for all people. Eleanor received a standing ovation as the president of the General Assembly closed the session with a tribute to the “person who has raised to greater heights even so great a name— Mrs. Roosevelt” (Glendon, 2001: 170). In years to come, Eleanor treasured the mem­ ory of that night, writing in her autobiogra­ phy: “During my years at the United Nations, it was my work on the Human Rights Commission that I considered my most important task” (Roosevelt, 1958: 71). After the declaration was accepted, the commission continued work on treaties to enforce it and eventually proposed two additional documents: the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights, which was stemming from the American tra­ dition of individual freedom, and the International Covenant on Economic, Social, and Cultural Rights, which was grounded in concepts associated with social­ ism. Eleanor continued to work on them, but stepped down as chair of the Commission on Human Rights in 1951. The covenants were not approved until 1966, four years after her death. It was not until 1976 that they received enough signatures from member nations to take effect (Glendon, 2002). Eleanor herself left the United Nations in 1953, after Eisenhower was elected presi­ dent on the republican ticket and declined reappointing her. After her service ended, she volunteered for the American Association

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for the United Nations, a private organization, and worked faithfully on its board to encour­ age public support for the United Nations. She said she wanted to remain in touch “with the work of the one organization that has the machinery to bring together all nations in an effort to maintain world peace” (Roosevelt, 1961: 323). Active to the End While she was at the United Nations and later, Eleanor continued her career in public communication. Her income tax returns showed that she earned sizeable sums to supplement the income from Franklin’s estate (valued at $1.4 million), which he had left in trust to her. Most of her income, however, came from her writing, lecturing, and broadcasting. While she received less than $5,000 annually from her UN work, in 1949 she reported a total income of $198,865 in earnings, chiefly from the p­ ublication of the second volume of her autobiography, This I Remember—the vol­ ume that covered the White House years. This sum represented her total income from various sources—lectures, “My Day,” books, and magazine work (Beasley et al., 2001). With Elliott acting as her agent, Eleanor moved her question‐and‐answer page, ‘If You Ask Me,” from the Ladies’ Home Journal to McCall’s magazine in 1949, which proved to be financially beneficial, since McCall’s paid her $500 more per page than the Ladies’ Home Journal. In addition, McCall’s offered $150,000 for the right to serialize This I Remember, which editors of the Ladies’ Home Journal had balked on accepting, claiming that it was poorly written. The auto­ biography turned out to be a tremendous success and helped McCall’s vault over the Ladies’ Home Journal and become the nation’s top‐selling women’s magazine. Eleanor continued to write for McCall’s until the end of her life, frequently responding to Cold War concerns and denying that the

United Nations was controlled by commu­ nists (Beasley et al., 2001). Primarily in order to aid her children, Eleanor undertook commercial broadcast­ ing while at the United Nations with Elliott as her agent. In 1948–1949 she co‐hosted a daily radio talk show on the American Broadcasting Company (ABC) with her daughter Anna, who was then struggling financially after the end of her second m­arriage (Asbell, 1982). In 1950 Elliott co‐ produced “The Eleanor Roosevelt Show,” a daily talk program on WNBC in New York in which he was reading commercials; this program drew criticism on account of his exploiting his mother’s name by saying that she used various products. He also sold a Sunday afternoon television show to the National Broadcasting Company (NBC); the show featured Eleanor interviewing notable guests like Albert Einstein. Difficulties in finding sponsors eventually led to both the radio and the television broadcasts leaving the air. Eleanor was thought to be unattractive to sponsors because conservatives considered her to be left wing and a possible communist sympa­ thizer. She remained, however, a standard figure on public affairs programs like NBC’s “Meet the Press,” where she was one of the few women invited to make frequent appear­ ances. From 1959 to 1962 she moderated a public affairs documentary series of her own, “Prospects for Mankind,” for National Education Television (the predecessor of public broadcasting). In the late 1950s Eleanor was able to return more regularly to broadcasting, as fears of communist influence began to diminish. Having replaced Elliott with a well‐known agent, Thomas L. Stix, she showed up as a celebrity guest on shows with top entertainers like Bob Hope and Frank Sinatra. Stix persuaded Eleanor to do a margarine commercial in 1959, to prove that “she would no longer be ‘poison’ to sponsors” (Stix, 1963: 105). She donated her $35,000 fee to CARE



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packages for the relief of hungry children (Beasley et al., 2001). Traveling extensively after her UN service, Eleanor enjoyed the frequent company of David Gurewitsch, her Russian Jewish d­ octor. He joined her on visits to Israel, Pakistan, India, Greece, Yugoslavia, Japan, Indonesia, Morocco, the Soviet Union, Belgium, England, France, and Switzerland. Fluent in Russian, Gurewitsch was at her side when she interviewed Soviet premier Nikita S. Khrushchev on her long‐anticipated trip to Russia in 1957 (Beasley et al., 2001). An excellent photographer, Gurewitsch recorded her visits with professional skill. Eleanor had become attached to Gurewitsch in 1947, when the two con­ versed intimately on a flight to Geneva that was delayed due to bad weather. Rather than her quarreling children, the handsome doctor, nearly twenty years younger, became the center of Eleanor’s emotional life in her later years. “My whole heart is yours,” she wrote Gurewitsch (Burns and Dunn, 2001: 527). Her love was not requited in a p­hysical way. Gurewitsch was first married, then divorced and remarried while he and Eleanor continued their exceptional rela­ tionship. After Gurewitsch’s marriage to his second wife, Edna, in 1958, Eleanor lived with the couple on a separate floor in a house they bought together on New York’s upper East Side, although she also main­ tained her Val‐Kill cottage. According to Edna Gurewitsch, “[t]he sadness is that this extraordinary woman had, at that late stage in  her life, to accept a relationship that was conditional and incomplete” (Gurewitsch, 2002: 41). As a major force in the Democratic Party, Eleanor had joined with labor leaders, intel­ lectuals, and other liberal elements in 1947 to form Americans for Democratic Action, which among its other goals aimed to c­ ounter communist sympathizers. Still, c­ ritics, particularly the vitriolic columnist Westbrook Pegler, accused her of being “soft” on communists, in part because of

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her outspoken criticism of the red‐baiting republican Senator Joseph McCarthy. She termed him “the greatest menace to free­ dom” in 1951 (Black, 1996: 168). Eleanor was similiarly outspoken in her support for Adlai E. Stevenson’s unsuccess­ ful democratic candidacies for US presi­ dency in 1952 and 1956, even to the extent of endorsing Stevenson’s cautious approach to desegregation, which lost her some sup­ port among African Americans (Beasley, et al., 2001). Yet, when Congress debated the Civil Rights Acts of 1957 and 1960, Eleanor told activists that she supported their struggle. A supporter of the Freedom Riders, an inter­ racial group protesting segregation in bus and railway accommodations, she wrote in a p­amphlet published by the Congress on Racial Equality that “advocating civil rights does not constitute anarchy” (Black, 1996: 127). Initially unwilling to support Massachusetts Senator John F. Kennedy in his 1960 democratic presidential bid (in part because he had not spoken out against McCarthy), Eleanor campaigned for Kennedy after he visited her at Hyde Park. He offered to postpone his own visit when its scheduled date turned out to be the day after the death of one of Eleanor’s g­randchildren, John’s daughter Sarah, in a horseback‐riding accident; but Eleanor, ever attentive to political duties, told him to come ahead. She told “My Day” readers that she had discovered that Kennedy was “anxious to learn” (Emblidge, 1991: 253). Following his election, Kennedy named her to the US delegation to the United Nations and also appointed her to chair the president’s Commission on the Status of Women in December 1961. By this time Eleanor’s health had declined and her activities were limited. She died at the age of seventy‐eight, on November 7, 1962, at the New York home she shared with the Gurewitsches. Her death was due to anemia and a long‐dormant tuberculosis that she had contracted as a young woman. Tributes poured in from around the world

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and Adlai Stevenson gave her eulogy at the United Nations: “She would rather light candles than curse the darkness, and her glow warmed the world” (Beasley et al., 2001: 122). She was buried at Hyde Park beside Franklin, on November 10, 1962, after a funeral service there attended by President Kennedy, Vice President Lyndon B. Johnson, former President Truman, all with their wives, along with former President Eisenhower. An Associated Press dispatch that ran in numerous newspapers said: “Mrs. Roosevelt was as controversial as she was prominent. … But loved or despised, she was a woman too vital ever to be ignored” (Beasley et al., 2001: 123). She has not been. Still, as this chapter has illustrated, the definitive biography of Eleanor from 1945 to 1962 remains to be written.

References Anderson, C. E. 2003. Eyes Off the Prize: The United Nations and the African American Struggle for Human Rights. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Asbell, B., ed. 1982. Mother and Daughter: The Letters of Eleanor and Anna Roosevelt. New York: Coward, McCann & Geoghegan. Beasley, M. H. 1987. Eleanor Roosevelt and the Media. Urbana: University of Illinois Press. Beasley, M. H. 2010. Eleanor Roosevelt: Transformative First Lady. Lawrence: University Press of Kansas. Beasley, M. H., H. Shulman, and H. R. Beasley, eds. 2001. The Eleanor Roosevelt Encyclopedia. Westport, CT: Greenwood. Berger, J. 1981. A New Deal for the World: Eleanor Roosevelt and American Foreign Policy. New York: Columbia university Press. Black, A. M. 1996. Casting Her Own Shadow: Eleanor Roosevelt and the Shaping of Postwar Liberalism. New York: Columbia University Press. Black, A. M., ed. 1999. Courage in a Dangerous World: The Political Writings of Eleanor Roosevelt. New York: Columbia University Press. Black, A. M., ed. 2007. The Eleanor Roosevelt Papers, vol. 1: The Human Rights Years, 1945– 1948. Detroit, MI: Thomson Gale.

Black, A. M., ed. 2012. The Eleanor Roosevelt Papers, vol. 2: The Human Rights Years, 1949– 1952. Charlottesville, VA: University of Virginia Press. Burns, J. M., and S. Dunn. 2001. The Three Roosevelts. New York: Atlantic Monthly Press. Chadakoff, R. 1989. Eleanor Roosevelt’s “My Day”: Her Acclaimed Columns, 1936–1945. New York: Pharos. Cook, B. W. 1999. Eleanor Roosevelt, vol. 2. New York: Viking. Costiglioia, F. 2012. Roosevelt’s Lost Alliances. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Emblidge, D., ed. 1990. Eleanor Roosevelt’s “My Day”: Her Acclaimed Columns, vol. 2: 1945– 1952. New York: Pharos. Emblidge, D., ed. 1991. Eleanor Roosevelt’s “My Day”: Her Acclaimed Columns, vol. 3: 1953– 1962. New York: Pharos. Faber, D. 1980. The Life of Lorena Hickok: ER’s Friend. New York: Morrow. Ferrell, R. H. 1998. The Dying President: Franklin D. Roosevelt, 1944–1945. Columbia, MO: University of Missouri Press. Gerber, R. 2002. Leadership: The Eleanor Roosevelt Way. New York: Prentice Hall. Glendon, M. A. 2001. A World Made New: Eleanor Roosevelt and the Universal Declaration of Human Rights. New York: Random House. Goodwin, D. K. 1994. No Ordinary Time: Franklin and Eleanor Roosevelt: The Home Front in World War II. New York: Simon & Schuster. Graham, O. L., Jr., and M. R. Wander, eds. 1985. Franklin D. Roosevelt: His Life and Times: An Encyclopedic View. Boston: G. K. Hall. Gurewitsch, E. P. 2002. Kindred Souls: The Friendship of Eleanor Roosevelt and David Gurewitsch. New York: New York: St. Martin’s. Lash, J. P. 1971. Eleanor and Franklin. New York: Norton. Lash, J. P. 1972. Eleanor: The Years Alone. New York: Norton. Lash, J. P., ed. 1982. Love, Eleanor: Eleanor Roosevelt and Her Friends. Garden City, NY: Doubleday. Lash, J. P., ed. 1984. A World of Love: Eleanor Roosevelt and Her Friends, 1943–1962. Garden City, NY: Doubleday. McCullough, D. 1992. Truman. New York: Simon & Schuster.



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Neal, S., ed. 2002. Eleanor and Harry: The Correspondence of Eleanor Roosevelt and Harry S. Truman. New York: Scribner. Perkins, F. 1964. The Roosevelt I Knew. New York: Harper Colophon. Persico, J. E. 2008. Franklin and Lucy. New York. Random House. Rowley, H. 2010. Franklin and Eleanor: An Extraordinary Marriage. New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux. Roosevelt, A. E. 1946. If You Ask Me. New York: Appleton‐Century. Roosevelt, A. E. 1949. This I Remember. New York: Harper & Brothers. Roosevelt, A. E. 1953. UN Today and Tomorrow. New York: Harper. Roosevelt, A. E. 1954. It Seems to Me. New York: W. W. Norton. Roosevelt, A. E. 1958. On My Own: New York: Harper & Brothers. Roosevelt, A. E. 1960. You Learn by Living. New York: Harper. Roosevelt, A. E. 1961. The Autobiography of Eleanor Roosevelt. New York: Harper & Brothers. Roosevelt, A. E., and L. A. Hickok. 1954. Ladies of Courage. New York: Putnam. Roosevelt, C. 2008. Too Close to the Sun: Growing up in the Shadow of My Grandparents, Franklin and Eleanor. New York: Public Affairs. Roosevelt, D. B. 2002. Grandmere: A Personal History of Eleanor Roosevelt. New York: Warner. Roosevelt, E. 1946. As He Saw It. New York: Duell, Sloan and Pearce.

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Roosevelt, E. 1975. The Roosevelts of the White House: A Rendezvous with Destiny. New York: Putnam. Roosevelt, E., and J. Brough. 1973. An Untold Story: The Roosevelts of Hyde Park. New York: Putnam. Roosevelt, E., and J. Brough. 1977. Mother R: Eleanor Roosevelt’s Untold Story. New York: Putnam. Roosevelt, J., and S. Shalett. 1959. Affectionately, FDR: A Son’s Story of a Lonely Man. New York: Harcourt, Brace. Roosevelt, J., with B. Libby. 1976. My Parents: A Differing View. Chicago: Playboy. Scharf, L. 1987. Eleanor Roosevelt: First Lady of American Liberalism. Boston: Twayne. Stix, T. L. 1963. “Mrs. Roosevelt Does a TV Commercial.” Harper’s 227 (November): 104–106. Streitmatter, R., ed. 1998. Empty Without You: The Intimate Letters of Eleanor Roosevelt and Lorena Hickok. New York: Free Press. Ward, G. C., ed. 1995. Closest Companion. Boston: Houghton Mifflin. Willis, R. 2004. FDR and Lucy: Lovers and Friends. New York: Routledge. Young, R., ed. 1935. Why Wars Must Cease. New York: Macmillan.

Further Reading “On the Air: Soap and the Roosevelts.” 1950. The New Republic, December 23: 21.

Chapter Twenty Seven

Elizabeth Virginia “Bess” Wallace Truman Michael J. Devine

Bess Wallace Truman once said that she believed a woman’s place in public life to be “to sit beside her husband, be silent, and make sure her hat is on straight” (Daniel, 2011: xi). While Mrs. Truman did avoid the spotlight, this offhand remark hardly c­onformed to the reality of her life as the wife of the thirty‐third president of the United States. Indeed, throughout her m­arriage to Harry S. Truman, she was con­ stantly involved in her husband’s career as a political adviser, sounding board, and critic. At the same time she remained a very private person and true to her personal values. Being suddenly thrust onto the world stage did not alter her basic approach to her own family and private life. This chapter will first explore Bess’s marriage to Harry Truman and her life before, during, and after her time in the White House, and then will c­onclude with a review of how scholars have treated her since she left Washington more than sixty years ago. Born on February 13, 1885, at 111 West Ruby Street in Independence, Missouri, Elizabeth Virginia Wallace was the first child of David Wilcock Wallace and Madge Gates Wallace. Bess—or Bessie, as she was known as a child—would have three younger

brothers: Frank Gates Wallace (1887–1960), George Porterfield Wallace (1892–1963), and David Fredrick Wallace (1900–1957). Her father, a handsome and well‐connected politician, was the son of a former Independence mayor and held several public offices, including those of treasurer of Jackson County and deputy surveyor in the Kansas City Office of the US Bureau of Customs. Her mother was the privileged daughter of a prominent family. Madge Gates Wallace’s father, George Porterfield Gates, was a businessman who co‐founded the successful Waggoner‐Gates Milling Company, built an impressive Victorian home for his family at the corner of Delaware and Blue Street (now Truman Road) in Independence, and proudly placed the image of his beautiful daughter on sacks of his mill’s “Queen of the Pantry” flour. Growing up in Independence, then the seat of Jackson County, Bess earned a repu­ tation as a tomboy, since she was playing baseball and other sports with her brothers and their friends. “The first girl I ever knew who could whistle through her teeth and bat a ball as far as any boy in the neigh­ borhood,” recalled a classmate (Harry S. Truman Library and Museum, n.d.). An

A Companion to First Ladies, First Edition. Edited by Katherine A. S. Sibley. © 2016 John Wiley & Sons, Inc. Published 2016 by John Wiley & Sons, Inc.



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expert golfer, tennis player, and horse­ woman, Bess also won a championship in the shot put while attending the Miss Barstow School—a finishing school in Kansas City where she studied language and literature after high school. In addition, Bess enjoyed the new game of basketball, in which the neighboring Allen family of six boys excelled. In 1903 she and several of her girlfriends organized a Young Women’s Christian Association (YWCA) team and were coached by one of the young Allens: Forrest Clare Allen, known as “Phogg,” a future Hall of Fame college coach at the University of Kansas. Friends remembered Bess as the star of the team, and teammate Mary Paxton recalled that the team created a minor public scandal by refusing to wear heavy skirts over their bloomers. Meanwhile one of Bess’s admiring class­ mates sat on the sidelines. Because of poor eyesight, corrected by thick glasses, young Harry S. Truman could not participate in rough sports or ball games. But he had been smitten with Bess since the day he first saw her at Sunday school after his family moved to Independence from Lamar, Missouri in 1890. They attended school together begin­ ning in fifth grade, and Harry would always look for opportunities to carry her books and walk her home. Bess, however, was from a well‐to‐do family, whereas the Trumans struggled to get by. While Harry worked at odd jobs after school and spent his spare time practicing the piano and t­ r ying to read every book in the Independence Public Library, Bess enjoyed an active social life. Notwithstanding their different pastimes as youngsters, Harry recalled fondly years later: “We … marched down life’s road together. For me, she still has the blue eyes and golden hair of yesteryear” (Truman, 1955–1956, 1: 116). The death of David W. Wallace in 1903 from a self‐inflicted gunshot wound to the head shocked the Jackson County commu­ nity and created such a scandal that Madge Wallace took her four children to reside in

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Colorado Springs, Colorado, to escape g­ ossip and public speculation about her husband’s suicide. Wallace, an alcoholic who had suffered from depression for years, died amid rumors of financial problems and gambling debts. Bess had loved her father with deep devotion, in spite of his faults, and was devastated by his suicide. When Madge Wallace returned to Independence after a year in Colorado, she moved her four children into the stately Gates home at 219 North Delaware, with her aging parents. Bess, just nineteen years old, increasingly took charge of household and family m­atters as the widowed Madge withdrew from Independence society (Sale, 2010: 14–15). Bess’s name was frequently mentioned in the social columns of the Independence newspapers. However, her father’s suicide would haunt and humiliate Bess for the remainder of her life. In 1910 she answered the door at her home one evening to find former high school classmate Harry Truman standing on the front porch holding a cake plate. It had been borrowed earlier by his relatives, the Nolands, who lived across from the Wallaces on Delaware Street, and Harry had eagerly volunteered to return the plate, hoping that Bess might come to the door. When she did, the two renewed their acquaintance and talked well into the night. More impor­ tantly, Bess agreed to Harry’s request to call on her again. Since high school, Harry had been work­ ing in Kansas City in a promising career at the Commerce Bank and, later, at the Union National Bank, when his parents called him to assist in operating the large family farm near Grandview, a village in southern Jackson County. Harry’s father, still struggling financially, had once again lost the family’s savings, this time in a grain futures investment. The farm belonged to Harry’s maternal grandfather, Solomon Young, a prosperous merchant, land specu­ lator, and slaveowner prior to the Civil War. Harry spent long hours in the field,

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managing the farm, and used whatever money he could scrape together to s­peculate in lead and zinc mines and an oil explora­ tion company, hoping to achieve the kind of success that would earn him the hand of Bess Wallace. Their courtship lasted for nearly a decade. Harry frequently visited Bess in Independence, first by train and streetcar and then, after Harry bought his first a­utomobile in 1913, by car: he would drive twenty or more miles on dusty country roads to Bess’s home. They went on picnics with friends and enjoyed meeting in Kansas City to attend shows at the Orpheum or Folley Theaters. And they corresponded f­requently, as Harry’s frustrating efforts to strike it rich in mining and petroleum e­xploration took him to southern Missouri, eastern Oklahoma, and southeastern Kansas. In May 1916, while on a brief stopover to check on the family’s farming operations, Harry wrote from Grandview of his latest investment miscalculation. “The mine has gone by the board. I have lost out entirely … You would do better perhaps if you pitch me into the ash heap and pick someone with more sense and ability and not such a soft head.” A year later, when his partners in Morgan and Company, Oil Investments had drilled another dry well, he wrote: “I have a grand and admirable ability for calling tails when heads come up … Just remember how crazy I am about you and forget all the rest” (all quoted in Ferrell, 1983: 215). Bess accepted Harry’s proposal of mar­ riage in November 1913; but Harry had still not achieved the financial success he ardently sought, so the couple decided to wait for more propitious circumstances before actu­ ally tying the knot. Finally, in 1917, as Lieutenant Truman prepared to depart for military service in France, Bess suggested they wed immediately. However, Harry now thought that it would be best to wait until he returned from the Great War, so as not to leave Bess a young widow. While he was in training in Oklahoma, and then serving as a

captain of an artillery battery in France, the two corresponded as frequently as possible. Meanwhile Bess became a Liberty Soldier and helped her local committee sell $1.78 million in government bonds. As Harry’s return from the war drew close, wedding plans became a focus of their letters. “You may invite the entire 35th Division if you want to,” Bess wrote, “I guess we may as well have a church full while we’re at it” (Daniel, 2011: 13). Within weeks of Harry’s safe return, they were married on June 28, 1919 in the Trinity Episcopal Church. Following a brief honeymoon in Chicago and Detroit, the newlyweds returned to Independence and resided in the Gates house (now more frequently called “the Wallace house”) with Bess’s mother. Her young brothers and their wives joined the household as well, living in adjacent bunga­ lows. Mrs. Wallace presided over the resi­ dence in spite of her increasing withdrawal from society, and she always took her place at the head of the dinner table. In a rare partnership at that time between a southern Baptist and a Jew, Harry started a haber­ dashery business in the bustling downtown of Kansas City with a military buddy named Eddie Jacobson. However, the enterprise failed during the postwar economic down­ turn and the Trumans were saddled with huge debts. Bess had also worked at the haberdashery as an accountant (apparently unsalaried) and served as a saleslady when needed. Anxious for any employment, in 1922 Harry accepted an offer to run for an administrative position: the office of county ludge. He had support from the powerful democratic political machine headed by Tom Pendergast, the uncle of another of Truman’s army friends. The Pendergast machine also helped Harry win this post, launching him on a political career that would lead to the White House. On February 17, 1924, after the distress of two earlier miscarriages, Mary Margaret (“Margie”), the Trumans’ only child, was born. The Trumans would be proud, stern,



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and loving parents, encouraging Margie in her education and musical interests. While Harry was gaining a reputation as an honest and effective county official in spite of the political corruption that sur­ rounded him, Bess proved to be a highly supportive and effective political wife. She made the necessary campaign appearances, gave comment on her husband’s speeches, and assisted in getting voters to the polls. She read the local newspapers diligently and filed clippings related to political matters. However, her political work was not with­ out considerable stress, as Kansas City and Jackson County politics was rife with cor­ ruption, fraud, and violence. A perceived threat to kidnap Margaret on the eve of the 1930 election terrified the family. A con­ stant worrier, Bess complained of “spasms” and “nervous fits” and told her husband of dreams in which she was gunned down in a shootout (Truman, 1986: 106; 112; Ferrell, 1994: 107; McCullough, 1992: 183, 188). In addition to her political activities, Bess took on the overall management of the household (including financial matters), Margaret’s education, and various social involvements. These included helping to establish an Independence Pioneers chapter of the Daughters of the American Revolution and the Junior Service League of Independence. She was also active in the work of the Trinity Episcopal Church, which she and her mother had joined some years earlier (Bess was christened in the Presbyterian Church, while Harry remained a Baptist throughout his life). During the summers, Harry spent two weeks at Fort Riley, Kansas as an officer in the army reserves, and Bess wrote him detailed letters twice a day, describing numerous household matters, Margaret’s sometimes mischievous behavior, and Jackson County political developments. In addition to news, the let­ ters Bess sent Harry often provided advice, including admonitions designed to protect him from the dangers of the deep end in the Fort Riley swimming pool. In her spare time

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Bess enjoyed golf, playing cards with her friends, and reading mystery novels. At times she would drive out to Fort Riley for a brief visit. On at least one of these long drives, she was accompanied by Eddie Jacobson, who remained a devoted friend of both Trumans, in spite of the haber­ dashery failure. In 1934 Bess Truman’s life moved in a new direction with her husband’s election to the United States Senate, in which the Pendergast organization was also instrumental. As she had in his previous campaigns, Bess advised her husband from behind the scenes, and during his ten years in the United States Senate she and Margaret would enjoy living in Washington while Congress was in ses­ sion, usually January through June, and in Independence for the rest of the year. In the nation’s capital the Trumans occupied a s­uccession of rented apartments, and Bess joined the Congressional Club and the Philanthropic Educational Organization, a sisterhood dedicated to the education and advancement of women. World War II brought further involvement for her, namely  with the H Street United Service Organization and with the Senate Wives Club’s activities in the Red Cross. Mrs. Truman also joined the office staff of her husband as a paid employee, then a c­ommon practice. She answered his personal mail and edited reports and drafts of speeches. She earned $4,500 per year, a good salary at that time. Senator Truman’s reelection campaign in 1940 proved to be particularly challenging, as the incumbent faced two powerful oppo­ nents in the democratic primary. Also, Tom Pendergast had been indicted for income tax evasion. Nevertheless, Truman was determined to win reelection and hold his Senate seat; and he drove thousands of miles across the state in a campaign that proved successful. Meanwhile Bess contin­ ued as his consultant, advising her husband to avoid opening himself up for criticism from his St. Louis opponent by traveling to

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that city with his unmarried assistant, Mildred Dryden. Harry thus won a second term in the November 1940 general election, and Bess was delighted to be returning to Washington as a senator’s spouse. She continued to enjoy spending a part of each year in Washington and made friends among the wives of Harry’s Senate colleagues. Her husband had now won an election on his own and moved beyond the Pendergast machine, although he would forever acknowledge his personal debt to the pow­ erful political boss of Kansas City. Within weeks of his electoral victory and feeling more financially secure, Harry bought two new Chryslers, a coupe for himself and a sedan for Bess (who frequently chauffeured Margaret and her friends). In January of 1941, as he entered the Senate Chamber of the US Capitol, the newly reelected senator from Missouri received a standing ovation from his colleagues. Following the United States entry into World War II, Senator Truman gained national attention as chairman of the Senate Special Committee to Investigate the National Defense Program (which is popu­ larly known as “the Truman Committee”). The volume of Mrs. Truman’s work in the Senate office increased; she returned to Independence less often, since her role as a sounding board, advisor, and unnamed source of pro‐Truman statements to the press became ever more important. Biographers of President Truman are divided on the matter of Bess’s role in the Senate office. M. Heather Carver states that Bess “ran his office” (Carver, 2004: 206). David McCullough, by contrast, notes “[h]ow much work she did would remain a matter of opinion among staff” (McCullough, 1992: 284). However, the consensus seems to be that she carried a fair share of the workload. At the 1944 Democratic National Convention in Chicago, Senator Harry Truman became his party’s surprise choice to serve as President Franklin Delano

Roosevelt’s running mate. Bess and Margaret attended this convention at which Senator Truman had pledged his support to a former US Senate colleague, James F. Byrnes, in case the incumbent vice presi­ dent, Henry Wallace, was to be replaced. But the convention turned to the senator from Missouri. This development came as a shock to both Harry and Bess, as he had not actively sought the position and had never been particularly close to the president; in fact Franklin Delano Roosevelt had quietly supported Truman’s Missouri primary opponent in the 1940 election. Bess was dismayed: she had enjoyed her life as a sena­ tor’s spouse and was troubled at the pros­ pect of possibly becoming first lady. “What if he should die?” she asked, “You would be President” (quoted in Hamby, 1995: 283– 284; Sale, 2010: 36–37). But, since many Democratic Party leaders were concerned about the president’s health and feared that Wallace was too much of a polarizing figure to lead the party or the nation, Truman emerged as a safe compromise. Bess braced herself and did her part to support her hus­ band’s candidacy in the successful 1944 campaign, making the obligatory appear­ ances and even agreeing to a radio interview. But during the campaign her position in her husband’s Senate office became known to the public, and Republican Clare Booth Luce dubbed her “Payroll Bess.” Senator Truman vigorously defended his wife’s employment, as did the republican editor of the Kansas City Star. The issue was soon forgotten and Bess stayed on Truman’s p­ayroll through the brief term of his vice presidency, as did his sister Mary Jane (who, more problematically, was a ghost employee, as she spent her time back in Grandview looking after the older Mrs. Truman; see Sale, 2010: 31–32; Ferrell, 2013: 59). On the evening of April 12, 1945, Bess Truman’s life was changed forever. After just eighty‐two days as vice president, Harry Truman was summoned to the White House and informed that President Roosevelt had



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died earlier that day. A few hours after receiving the news, standing in the oval office with Bess and his daughter Margaret at his side, Harry Truman took the oath of office. Bess’s worst fears had become reality, but she was prepared to do her duty. Bess saw no need to take on a new cause when Harry S. Truman suddenly became president. She already had her own inter­ ests. For many years she had been active in various public service enterprises in her hometown of Independence, Missouri, from the Daughters of the American Revolution to the Junior League Furthermore, Bess remained deeply involved in the Trinity Episcopal Church. She would continue to embrace these activities both as first lady and in the years following her h­ usband’s presidency. Furthermore, Bess continued to devote much of her attention to family matters. Her husband and her daughter Margaret were the center of her life, and this did not change when she became first lady. Her aging mother, Madge Wallace, also required constant care and attention from Bess. She spent a good deal of her time at home in Independence and appeared unconcerned about criticism (some from the president himself) that she remained in Independence too often and for too long (McCullough, 1992; Ferrell, 1994; Hamby, 1995). Always a very private and family‐oriented woman, Bess had found her role as a US senator’s wife compatible with her concern for privacy and family matters. However, she knew that, as first lady, she would be in the limelight and was afraid of the attention she knew her family would receive. Perhaps, as her daughter Margaret believed, she feared that the story of her father’s suicide would become public knowledge now that she resided in the White House. In addition, Bess was coming after the most widely traveled and most publicized first lady in American history: Eleanor Roosevelt. Following President Roosevelt’s funeral, as she returned to Washington from Hyde

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Park, Bess asked Labor Secretary Frances Perkins if it was necessary to hold frequent press conferences, as Eleanor had. In fact one had already been scheduled, as a means of introducing the new first lady to the pub­ lic. Assured that she could do as she wanted, Bess never held another press conference beyond this introductory event. She also refused to be interviewed by newspapers and magazine reporters. She did, however, reply to written questions from the press corps and sometimes responded spontane­ ously to questions at public events. Her one press conference was awkward and uncomfortable. The correspondents, mostly female, submitted written questions to which Bess responded with brief, often one‐word answers. Generally her response was: “No comment.” Nothing of the new first lady’s intelligence, warmth, or dry humor came across, and the public’s first impression of her was less positive than it could have been. Throughout her husband’s presidency Bess always appeared to be w­ishing she were somewhere else, and she was unable to hide the sometimes prickly, impatient, and dour side of her personality. One event early in her White House t­enure confirmed her reluctance to preside over public events. Invited to christen two medical evacuation planes at the National Airport, Bess became the center of an unex­ pected public relations disaster when both of the champagne bottles she was supposed to break over the noses of the two military rescue aircraft refused to crack. The bottles had not been properly scored and, in spite of her best swings, nothing happened. The crowd roared with laughter, and Bess soon learned to her great distress that the whole fiasco was filmed and would soon appear on newsreels in theaters throughout the United States. “Never will I let myself be put in such a situation again,” Mrs. Truman fumed. “Never! Never! Never!” (quoted in Elsey, 2005: 94–95). A few weeks later, a White House aide shared a ride with the Trumans following a

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reception at the Congressional Club. The president was in a foul mood, having learned that Congress was unwilling to expand the West Wing so as to provide additional office space for his staff. When the president said he might just get a bulldozer and knock out the back wall to force congressional action, Mrs. Truman stated: “Harry, you’ll do no such thing!” With that, she brought her fist down on the knee of the nation’s com­ mander in chief with such force that the aide was afraid he would have to assist the presi­ dent to walk into the White House. “Mrs. Truman was a lady to be reckoned with,” the aide noted (Elsey, 2005: 95–96). Later, when a White House chandelier wobbled during one of the first lady’s receptions while Harry was taking a bath upstairs, Congress relented, and the White House would be largely rebuilt in their second term. Bess, unlike her immediate predecessor, also sought to avoid controversial social issues. In the autumn of 1945 she accepted an invitation to a tea sponsored by the Daughters of the American Revolution. US Representative Adam Clayton Powell charged that her attendance at the DAR event amounted to her approval of the organization’s support of the city’s segrega­ tion rules, which prohibited nonwhite p­erformers from appearing at Constitution Hall. Powell referred to her as “the last lady of the land.” Appalled at being considered to be on the side of the segregationists, she released a statement to the press: “I deplore any action which denied artistic talent an opportunity to express itself because of p­rejudice against race or origin” (quoted in Cottrell, 2001: 307). This unfortunate i­ncident only strengthened Bess Truman’s determination to avoid the public spotlight as much as possible. “My mother, whose public façade has been unvaryingly sedate and whose public utterances have been unfailingly courteous but cryptic, is perhaps the least understood member of our family,” wrote Margaret Truman in an autobiography she composed

a few years after the Truman presidency ended (quoted in Harry S. Truman Library and Museum, n.d). Indeed, those who knew Bess well were aware that her public image did not mesh with her true personality. Jonathan Daniels, a former press secretary to President Franklin Roosevelt, noted in McCall’s in April 1949 that “Bess Truman is a lady unchanged by the White House and determined to remain always as she is” (Daniels, 1949: 18). Margaret claimed that, while the press wanted to know more than her favorite color (blue), flower (rose), and dessert (Ozark Pudding), Bess never o­vercame her reluctance to show the public her warm‐hearted character, kindness, and sense of humor. While uncomfortable in her public role, Bess Truman was nevertheless a hard‐working first lady. Once the war was over, she reinstituted the White House social season, personally overseeing the detailed planning of all social activities, including numerous teas, musicals, and formal state receptions and dinners. The history of the White House interested her, and she insisted on observing the protocol and practices of p­receding presidencies. She was particularly fond of the James Monroe era, perhaps identifying with the quiet, efficient, and charming Elizabeth Monroe. In addition to activities in the White House, Bess dutifully attended the many luncheons and teas p­resented in her honor, often several a day. She also carefully responded to the enormous volume of mail she received. As customary for first ladies, she served in numerous h­onorary capacities. These included the posts of honorary president of the Girl Scouts, the Womens’ National Democratic Club, and the Washington, DC Animal Rescue League. She also served as Honorary Chairman of the American Red Cross. Described by those who knew her as a “down‐to‐earth” first lady, Bess bought her dresses for White House events at her favorite department store in Kansas City, frequently wearing the same outfit on



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several occasions while sometimes making her own alterations or putting in her own touch, such as by adding a collar. She had White House chauffeurs drive the presidential limousine to her favorite Washington, DC beauty shop, where she continued to receive a weekly manicure, shampoo, and set for $3, because she saw “no reason to change” now that she was first lady. The president continued to confide in Bess, as had long been his custom, describ­ ing to her in detail his first meetings in Potsdam, Germany with Winston Churchill and Joseph Stalin or telling her that her “taste in hats is not screwy (and) … I can not get Chanel No. 5 … even on the black market.” He noted his admiration for General Dwight D. Eisenhower in a letter that revealed his generosity of spirit. “He’s a nice fellow and a good man. He’s done a whale of a job. They are running him for president, which is OK with me. I’d turn it over to him now if I could.” At the White House, which the president told Bess was a “great white sepulcher of ambitions and reputations,” he expressed his delight at receiving her correspondence from Independence, where she often visited. “Two letters today! Made it bright and very happy” (all quoted in Ferrell, 1983: 520, 516, 523, 529). The letters that the first lady sent to the president in Potsdam have been lost to history, but Mr. Truman’s c­orrespondence indicates that Bess offered no opinions on world affairs or domestic politics at this critical time. Family matters still dominated Bess’s life, and care of her frail mother and talented, but temperamental daughter occupied much of her attention—sometimes to the consternation of the president. Madge Wallace had become a recluse at her home in Independence by the time the Trumans entered the White House; and, now more than ever, she needed the care that only Bess could provide. This meant long periods away from the nation’s capital, and the p­ resident’s letters displayed unhappiness

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with his wife’s prolonged absences. Having always thought that her daughter could have married better, Madge remained a source of strife for the couple (Ferrell, 1994). Meanwhile Margaret was completing her undergraduate degree at George Washington University, where her studies, active social life, and efforts to launch a singing career kept her away from the White House, but she was no less a worry for her parents. In his first year as president, Mr. Truman found himself facing Christmas alone in the White House. Distressed by this situation, he decided to fly to Independence to be with his wife. The flight proved to be espe­ cially difficult and dangerous, and the plane was forced to land several times because of bad weather. When the president finally arrived at his home safely, he found Bess preoccupied with Christmas preparations and upset with him for risking his life to fly all the way to Independence for just a brief visit. Upon his return to Washington, President Truman penned a hasty, hand‐ written note to Bess expressing his displeas­ ure at being “treated like something the cat drug in from the rain.” After thinking it over, Mr. Truman filed the unsent missive in his Oval Office desk (Truman, 1986: 280– 292). McCullough (1992) offers a c­harming account of this story. It would not be the last angry letter Truman would so dispense with. Perhaps Bess Truman’s finest hours as first lady came during the famous “whistle‐ stop campaign.” The prospects for Harry Truman winning a full‐term as president in the 1948 election appeared dim. During his first years in office he had faced unprece­ dented challenges. A world war had to be brought to a close, and peace restored; thir­ teen million men and women needed to be mustered out of the military and into civil­ ian employment; legislation ending discrim­ ination in the armed forces was long overdue; the Soviet Union’s aggressive expansion and threats to security in Europe presented a new political and military

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challenge; and defeated Germany and Japan required rebuilding in order to provide e­conomic growth in Europe and Asia, an effort that the United States increasingly saw as a bulwark against communism. Overriding all these great issues was the concern for the avoidance of another world­ wide conflict—one that could involve the use of nuclear weapons, which the president had authorized in order to bring about the defeat of Japan in August of 1945. As the American economy struggled to adjust to peacetime conditions, Republicans took full advantage and won control of both houses of Congress in 1946, crippling Truman’s efforts to advance his domestic agenda in housing, health care, education, and civil rights. Even many Democratic Party leaders began to doubt Truman’s leadership. Yet, in spite of a Congress dominated by the opposing Republican Party and his own Democratic Party becoming increasingly divided by liberals and southern conserva­ tives, Truman scored resounding triumphs in foreign policy during 1947, securing pas­ sage of the Truman Doctrine, which was meant to aid countries resisting communist aggression, and of the Marshall Plan, which intended to provide funding for the rebuild­ ing of Europe. Nevertheless, by 1948 it appeared that the republican presidential candidate, Governor Thomas E. Dewey of New York, would be unbeatable. Truman’s prospects of reelection seemed even gloom­ ier when former Vice President and Cabinet Secretary Henry Wallace launched his Progressive Party challenge, taking many of the most liberal or leftist Democrats with him. Then southern “Dixiecrats” (that is, members of the States’ Rights Democratic Party), led by South Carolina Governor Strom Thurmond, bolted from the Democratic Convention, in opposition to Truman’s stand on civil rights. Bess resigned herself to another campaign, in spite of the hardships she knew she would face. As the Democratic Party’s convention drew near, two international crises also

threatened to involve the United States in war. The president announced an airlift of supplies to the western section of Berlin, now blockaded by the Soviets in an action that caused concern about war in Europe; and Israel declared its independence, a move that Truman immediately recognized, although the Middle East was in turmoil as a result. Yet the president remained confi­ dent. To Bess he wrote on July 23: “It looks as if the Russkies are going to come without a fight. If they do and we get the Israelites settled down, things will be in such shape in foreign affairs that we can go to work in e­arnest on that bunch of ‘hypocrites’ known as Republicans” (Harry Truman to Bess Truman, July 23, 1948 = Papers of Harry S. Truman Pertaining to Family, Business and Personal Affairs, n.d.). Throughout the summer, Bess accompa­ nied her husband as they criss‐crossed the country by train to take the Truman admin­ istration’s message to the people. As the election drew near, the crowds at the whistle‐ stops grew larger. Clearly the electorate was moving in Truman’s direction. The question was: Would the voters move enough to overcome Dewey’s lead? On the campaign trail, Truman always introduced both Bess and Margaret, referring to Bess as his “Boss” and to Margaret as the “Boss’s Boss.” Bess was not especially pleased with these labels, but she went along for the sake of the campaign, and provided the president with advice and encouragement. A cam­ paign aide noted the friendly, unpretentious atmosphere on the campaign train, the Trumans’ concern for the hard‐working staff, and the pervasive sense of humor. Journalists covering both the Dewey and the Truman camps also noted the differ­ ences in the way the two operated, the Truman Train being much more friendly and open. The best firsthand appraisal of the mood on the Whistlestop Campaign is in Elsey (2005). The whistle‐stop campaign of 1948 and the upset victory over what appeared to be



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insurmountable odds placed President Truman in the White House in his own right. Her husband’s victory must have given Bess a sense of great satisfaction, in spite of her reluctance to serve as first lady for another four years. In addition to the presidency, the Democrats had swept into control of both Houses of Congress. However, many of the senior Democrats in the House and in the Senate were southern conservatives who had supported Thurmond, and they were not supportive of Truman’s ambitious Fair Deal agenda. Furthermore, the June 1950 invasion of the newly established Republic of Korea by the communist North Koreans, backed by the Soviet Union, brought another challenge and spurred President Truman to send United States troops to support the South Korean state under a United Nations man­ date. Soon the war involved the People’s Republic of China, which was led by a com­ munist regime that had come to power the previous year. When the president relieved General Douglas MacArthur, the popular World War II hero, from his command in the Far East after he overstepped his authority, Republicans expressed outrage. Some even called for impeachment of the president and accused his administration of treason. Republican Senator Joseph McCarthy, meanwhile, launched a reckless attack on the loyalty of thousands of federal workers and military leaders, including General George C. Marshall, who was serving as secretary of defense. There were also charges by republi­ can critics of widespread corruption in the administration; but there was little to no substance to these charges. Nevertheless, the president’s approval rating dropped below 30 percent, and the difficult second term took its toll on both Harry and Bess. As the 1952 presidential primary elections drew near, Bess made it clear to Harry that she was concerned about his surviving another four years in the White House. The presi­ dent was seriously considering another term,

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but his advisers soon talked him out of it (Ferrell, 1994: 376). One of the happiest moments in Bess’s life came in the evening of March 29, 1952, at the annual Jefferson–Jackson Day dinner. While the president spoke before hundreds of Democratic Party loyalists, Bess, listening attentively, heard him say, “I shall not be a candidate for reelection.” She knew that this meant that they would soon be going back home to Independence! She would once again be the private person she always wanted to be. As Bess listened to her husband’s remarks, a close friend observed that she attempted to appear not too gleeful, but “[s] he looked like a poker player holding four aces” (Truman, 1986: 383). It is not clear to what extent the president had spoken privately with Bess about his decision prior to this public announcement (Sale, 2010: 112–118). A few months later Bess attended the Democratic National Convention in Chicago with her husband. While the event must have brought back memories of the 1944 gather­ ing in that city when Harry was thrust into the national spotlight, she now held mixed emo­ tions about the direction of politics and their party. While she liked the democratic nomi­ nee, Governor Adlai Stevenson of Illinois, and saw him as a charming, intelligent, and honest leader, Bess shared her husband’s view of him as an ineffective and reluctant campaigner. At times Stevenson appeared to be running against the record of the Truman administra­ tion. The president became so infuriated that he wrote letters to Stevenson several times, threatening to withdraw his support. Bess seems to have calmed her husband; and, perhaps because of Bess’s advice, the letters were not sent and President Truman continued to campaign for the democratic candidate. Bess, however, stayed away, invoking growing concerns for her mother’s health, which had indeed become a serious matter. The 1952 presidential campaign ended with an overwhelmingly 6‐million‐vote majority for the republican ticket of Dwight D. Eisenhower and Richard M. Nixon.

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Once an admirer of General Eisenhower, Truman had become embittered during the campaign over Republicans’ unfounded charges of corruption and softness to c­ommunism during his administration and over a related assertion that only total Chinese and North Korean surrender in the Korean conflict (which had cost the United States tens of thousands of lives) was accept­ able. Eisenhower’s promise to go to Korea if elected, which implied that he had a plan to alter the course of the war, particularly upset the president, who knew that, if elected, the general would continue to pursue a negoti­ ated settlement, as Truman had. Bess did what she could to smooth out the transition. She invited Mamie Eisenhower for tea and a tour of the White House, even though the ailing Madge Wallace was dying there, a gracious gesture that Mrs. Eisenhower appreciated. Madge Wallace died in the White House on December 5. Several events were held in Bess Truman’s honor as she and her husband prepared to depart from Washington. Among the fare­ wells was a luncheon held by the Washington newspaper women—an occasion that dem­ onstrated that they had overcome any resent­ ment they might have had for her “No comment” responses. They had come to appreciate her determination and honesty. One of the members even read a poem in her honor, which included the following lines: We will think of you, rather, as a friend, Whose kindnesses never seemed to end The appreciative little longhand note For something nice that somebody wrote, Or the flowers when somebody was sad or ill, With a card that is surely treasured still. And your wonderful way with a White House guest, Who might be nervous at such a test, And who probably never even knew That the feeling of ease was due to you— To your tact and kindness and savoir‐faire Which made hard things easy when you were there. (Quoted in Truman, 1986: 394)

Like many recently retired couples, the Trumans took advantage of travel opportu­ nities and spent time on family matters. Shortly after leaving the White House, they enjoyed a long visit to Hawaii, where they were guests on the Coconut Island retreat of Edwin Pauley, a wealthy oil tycoon who had once served as Finance Chairman of the Democratic National Committee. In the summer of 1953 Bess accompanied her h­usband on a long cross‐country drive to Washington, Philadelphia, and New York, where Margaret had settled and was begin­ ning a career in radio journalism. The unac­ companied couple stopped at roadside diners, stayed in unpretentious motels, and tried, without much success, to journey across America like ordinary folks, as secret service protection was not provided for the Trumans until 1964. Bess loved the free­ dom, which reminded her of her Senate days, as they rolled down the two‐lane high­ ways at a steady 50 miles per hour (Truman, 1986). But the public would not let them be, and this was to be the last time they would make such a venture on their own. In 1956 the Trumans visited Europe. The trip had been planned with Eddie Jacobson and his wife; but, sadly, Eddie died before the foursome could depart. Former Roosevelt speechwriter Samuel Roseman and his wife then joined the Trumans for a grand tour that included a visit to Sir Winston Churchill and an audience with Pope Pius XII in Rome. The Trumans traveled to Europe again in 1958. Meanwhile Margaret had become the bride of Clifton Daniel, an editor at the New York Times, at a wedding in the Trinity Episcopal Church, where Bess and Harry had themselves m­arried. In June 1957 she gave birth to the first of the couple’s four sons. As Bess quickly settled back into a more private life in Independence, Harry S. Truman now considered himself “Mr. Citizen”—a promotion from the office of president, since the president reported to the citizens. He would tell people that he



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was just a “retired farmer,” although his busy schedule, his stream of distinguished visitors, and his new publishing career indi­ cated that he was something else too. From 1953 until the July 1957 dedication of the Truman Library in Independence, the f­ormer president worked out of an office in the Kansas City Federal Reserve Bank in downtown Kansas City. Although his only source of regular income at that time was an army pension of $119 per month (presidents did not get pensions until 1958), Harry had planned well for his retirement by saving much of his presidential salary, which had been $100,000 after 1949. Also, he saved some of his entertainment allowance from 1949–1952, while the White House was being renovated and the much smaller Blair House served as presidential residence. In addition, Mr. Truman still owned over 400 acres of the family farm in Grandview. Always a frugal manager of the family’s finances in the White House and at home in Independence, Bess deserves much of the credit for setting up the couple’s comforta­ ble retirement. Almost from the day he arrived back in Independence, Mr. Truman was involved in the writing of his two‐volume memoirs with the help of a team of writers and research assistants. It is likely that Bess read every page of the first draft, and Harry acknowl­ edged her “counsel and judgment” in the preface to volume 1. Meanwhile, both kept abreast of political developments. The for­ mer president was particularly active behind the scenes in the 1960 democratic primaries and convention, where he worked unsuc­ cessfully to secure the party’s nomination for Missouri Senator Stewart Symington. Truman viewed the country as divided, as it prepared to enter the new decade. Following a meeting with party leaders in January 1959, the former president considered the nation’s domestic situation to be similar to that on the eve of the Civil War. He wrote to Bess, with a sense of urgency: “we are up against it for a winning candidate in 1960 …

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God help the country … we are facing the most serious situation since 1859” (Harry Truman to Bess Truman, January 7, 1959 = Papers of Harry S. Truman Pertaining to Family, Business and Personal Affairs, n.d.). Despite the lukewarm support for Democrat John F. Kennedy that these sentiments sug­ gest, Truman must have been relieved that Kennedy won the 1960 election. Not one to hold onto such slights, the new president was quick to invite Harry and Bess to the White House. They never received such an invitation during the eight years of the Eisenhower presidency, as the thin‐skinned Ike could not let go of Truman’s criticism during the 1952 presidential campaign. Following President Kennedy’s assassina­ tion in November 1963, the Trumans were again in Washington, this time for the young president’s funeral. However, this sad occa­ sion did give the Trumans and Eisenhower the opportunity to have lunch together in the Blair Home and to rekindle an old friendship. They later returned to Washington, to be on hand when President Lyndon B. Johnson signed the act that c­reated Medicare in 1965. Bess and Harry received the first Medicare cards issued in 1966, in honor of Harry’s earlier support for health care. Upon leaving the White House, Bess seemed to become concerned that future scholars would pry into her private affairs. In the winter of 1955, around Christmas time, the former president returned home to find Bess sitting near the fireplace in the parlor. She had before her stacks of letters she had written to her husband and others throughout her lifetime, and she was sys­ tematically tossing them into the flames. “Bess, what are you doing? Think of h­ istory!” Harry cried. “Oh, I have,” she replied, as she continued her work (Daniel, 2011: xii). As a result, historians have less than two hundred of what might have been more than a thousand of her letters. Most of those that survived were preserved by Margaret at her home in New York City.

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While this was an unfortunate loss, no h­istorian has viewed Bess Truman’s actions as in any way comparable to those of Florence Harding’s deliberate and extensive destruction of presidential records some thirty years earlier. In her focus on personal letters, Bess was more in line with the actions of Edith Roosevelt, who scoured her own correspondence even more thoroughly than Bess did. Mrs. Truman seems to have taken little interest in one of her husband’s chief post­ presidential endeavors: the construction of the Harry S. Truman Library in Independence, which was dedicated on July 6, 1957. The facility, located just six blocks away from the home on Delaware Street, provided Mr. Truman with an office where he spent up to six days a week and created an important legacy for scholars who would begin revisiting the administration’s record in subsequent decades. Instead, it was the home that remained Bess’s domain, and in consequence reflected her own particular customs. It appears unlikely that any guests to the Wallace– Truman home other than close relatives on the Wallace side ever advanced beyond the front parlor for even a brief visit. The extremely private nature of the Madge Wallace–Bess Truman household has led to speculation that, like her mother, Bess was antisemitic. According to television pro­ ducer David Susskind, former President Truman once said of his Independence home: “this is not the White House—it’s the Wallace house. Bess runs it, and there’s never been a Jew inside the house in her or her mother’s lifetime” (quoted in Beschloss, 2007: 210). Eddie Jacobson’s daughter, Gloria, found both Bess and Margaret to be cold and unfriendly toward her family, while “Harry was alright with us” (Schusterman, 2010). However, these two isolated com­ ments seem at odds both with Bess’s work­ ing at the Truman–Jacobson haberdashery in close proximity to a Jewish partner and with her frequent car rides across Kansas

with Eddie to visit Harry at a summer camp at Fort Leavenworth or Fort Riley. Also, the Trumans were planning an extended European trip in 1955, together with Eddie and Bluma Jacobson, when Eddie suddenly died, as noted above. Later, when the Trumans did make a European excursion, they were accompanied by another Jewish couple with whom they were close, Samuel Roseman and his wife Dorothy. Age began to take its toll on the Trumans as they entered their seventies. Bess discov­ ered a large grapefruit‐size tumor on her breast in 1959. While an operation revealed that it was benign, the ordeal proved to be a prelude to what was to come. Harry’s robust health declined rapidly after 1964, when a fall in the bathroom at 219 North Delaware prompted a hospital visit. He never seemed to regain his energy after this mishap; his morning walks shortened and visits to his library were now few and far between. For the next eight years he spent most days at home, reading stacks of books in his small study. Harry died at Research Hospital in Kansas City on December 26, 1972. Following his wishes, Bess arranged a simple funeral service at Trinity Episcopal Church— not with his Baptists—and burial in the courtyard of the presidential library. Bess lived to see a surge in her husband’s reputation in the 1970s, as the Truman Library began declassifying Truman’s per­ sonal papers and Cold War documents. With these materials, the difficult decisions that Truman made on Berlin, Korea, civil rights, and many other issues began to appear wiser than they had at the time. Prominent Cold War historians led by John Lewis Gaddis, Alanzo Hamby, and Thomas G. Paterson came to regard Truman as a reasonable and steadfast leader, who charted a course of “containment” against Soviet expansion that all of his successors followed. Also, the Watergate scandal in the Nixon administration made the Truman years appear an era of good government by com­ parison. Republican President Gerald R.



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Ford, once a harsh critic, proclaimed himself Truman’s “No. 1 fan.” And, although the democratic President Jimmy Carter largely ignored the former first lady during his pres­ idency, he quickly sought to identify himself with the Truman legacy when he began to see that he was losing his 1980 reelection bid against Ronald Reagan (Truman, 1986: 429). At that point Carter even paid a visit to Bess in Independence, but he failed to win her endorsement. Bess Truman continued to reside in the family home after President Truman died. Margaret suggested a move to New York City, where she could live close to her grandchildren, but the former first lady p­referred to remain with family and friends in the house she had known her entire life. In particular, she renewed her close friend­ ship with her childhood friend and class­ mate, the recently widowed Mary Paxton Keeley. Margaret and the grandsons visited her in Independence from time to time, and numerous distinguished visitors from throughout the world came to pay their respects—sometimes a hundred or more in a week. Often visitors were amazed that the elderly first lady remembered their names and details of their earlier meetings. Bess appeared unchanged from her White House years, when writer Helen Essary had remarked that “loyalty and sincerity were the mainsprings of Mrs. Truman’s character. She seldom thinks of the effect she is creat­ ing. She exists principally in her relation­ ships with family and friends. To her, duty is a pleasant, everyday word” (Essary, 1949: 59). On the several occasions in the 1950s when the Gallup poll had listed her among the twenty most admired women in America despite her husband’s poor reputation at the time, her humble response was: “I don’t know why.” As an older woman, she spent much of her time reading books, especially mysteries, and often reread Harry’s love let­ ters, in particular a long sentimental letter to her on their thirty‐eighth wedding anniver­ sary. She also enjoyed watching baseball on

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television. She remained active and inter­ ested in the people and events around her, and in her last decade she became increas­ ingly visible in Missouri elections. Upset with the way Senator George McGovern had unceremoniously dumped Missouri Senator Tom Eagleton from the 1972 democratic ticket, Bess agreed to co‐ chair Eagleton’s 1974 campaign for reelec­ tion to the US Senate. She considered McGovern too far to the left. “It’s not the Democratic Party I knew,” she stated. The fact that the campaign’s co‐chair was Stan Musial, a former St. Louis Cardinal Hall of Fame baseball player, may have influenced her decision to involve herself in the reelec­ tion effort. “She knew every player in the Kansas City Royals starting lineup,” Eagleton noted, “and had very strong opin­ ions on the pluses and minuses of each one” (Truman, 1986: 427). In 1976 she served as honorary chair of James Symington’s unsuccessful effort to win a US Senate seat in Missouri; and that same year she publicly helped Missouri State Senator Ike Skelton win election to represent the fourth c­ ongressional district in the US House, assisting the young legislator, whose family she and Mr. Truman had known for many decades, to secure critical votes in eastern Jackson County. As she entered her ninth decade of life, her health began to fail and arthritis con­ fined her to a wheelchair for much of the day. On October 18, 1982, Mrs. Truman died at her home at the age of ninety‐ seven—the longest living first lady to this day. Her simple funeral services were held at Trinity Episcopal for 150 invited guests, who included First Lady Nancy Reagan and former First Ladies Rosalynn Carter and Betty Ford. She was buried next to her hus­ band in the courtyard of the Harry S. Truman Library in Independence. According to Margaret, the location had been chosen years earlier by her husband. “We’re going to be buried out here,” Harry told her. “I like this idea because I may just

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want to get up some day and stroll into my office. And I can hear you saying, ‘Harry— you oughtn’t!’” (Truman, 1986: 428). Scholarly Treatment of Bess Truman While Harry S. Truman’s extraordinary presidency is the subject of hundreds of scholarly monographs, there is little signifi­ cant literature or examination concerning President Truman’s extremely private first lady. In part this may be because Bess Truman took no public stand on the major political or social issues of her day, champi­ oned no national cause, and avoided the spotlight as much as possible. She did not seek to expand the role of first lady, and she avoided taking up causes that had been embraced by her predecessors, from Ellen Wilson to Florence Harding to Eleanor Roosevelt. Her low profile as a first lady is also the product of her own actions insofar as she destroyed many of her papers. Beyond a few interviews with her contemporaries, what scholars know of Bess Truman comes from just two sources: her daughter Margaret’s undocumented, highly personal, and understandably sympathetic biography; and the one‐sided correspondence between Harry and Bess from their early courtship through the presidential years. The Truman Library holds over fifteen hundred letters written by Harry, but less than two hundred by Bess, and most of these came to light fol­ lowing the death of Margaret in 2008. These recently discovered missives are revealing only in the matter of the great care and attention that Bess devoted to all family matters. Clifton Truman Daniel, the Truman’s eldest grandson, presents the bulk of these letters with skillful annotation in Dear Bess, Love Harry (Daniel, 2011). In addition to Harry Truman’s corre­ spondence to Bess in Robert Ferrell’s (1983) Dear Bess: The Letters of Harry to  Bess  Truman, 1910–1959, President

Truman’s two‐volume memoirs and his other postpresidential writings also offer glimpses into Bess’s character and personal­ ity. Sara Sale’s (2010) biography of Bess gives a useful academic overview, but little fresh insight; her work was published prior to the discovery of the letters found in the Margaret Truman materials. The written record she had to work with is thus frag­ mentary, and the author’s contention that Bess served as an advocate (largely unsuc­ cessful) for the appointment of more women in high federal government positions is not sufficiently documented. Likewise over­ stated is her assertion that “[s]cholars have swung in recent years from considering her contribution insignificant to the other extreme of crediting her as the mastermind behind some of her husband’s major p­olicies” (Sale, 2010: 4). President Truman’s three great biogra­ phers of the 1990s—Alanzo Hamby, David McCullough, and Robert Ferrell—all gen­ erally agree that Bess was a source of strength to the president and that, sadly, the first lady’s graciousness, sense of humor and sharp wit were never on public display. Robert Ferrell is perhaps the most critical, viewing Bess as unsupportive of her hus­ band’s early political career and as a poor housekeeper, frequently grumpy and “given to sharpness” (Ferrell, 1996: 75). McCullough is more sympathetic, finding Bess a frugal manager of the Independence household and one who was more than will­ ing to let the White House staff take time off on hot summer days. He quotes President Richard M. Nixon, who recalled her as “genuine” (McCullough, 1996: 594), and White House aide Clark Clifford, who considered Bess “a pillar of strength to her husband” (1996: 575). Matthew Algeo provides interesting vignettes about the Truman marriage in Harry Truman’s Excellent Adventure as he recounts the pair’s 1953 road trip (Algeo, 2009). It is unlikely that scholars will ever know more about Bess Wallace Truman than we



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do now. Given the lack of documentation and her tenacity at maintaining boundaries around her private life, the full parameters of her position as first lady and her personal views on the private and public issues of her day may well remain known only to her. This is unfortunate, as everything we under­ stand about her role as her husband’s politi­ cal adviser shows it to have been an important one, even as she fits well Robert Watson’s designation as a “behind the scenes” first lady (Watson, 2000: 143). She did not view her role as first lady as a politi­ cal office or as a public institution to be advanced, preferring to constrain her activi­ ties to more traditional lines during her hus­ band’s nearly eight years in office. While not necessarily fair, the limited renown of this long‐lived first lady, unlike that of many others presented in this book, is one that she herself did much to cultivate.

References Algeo, M. 2009. Harry Truman’s Excellent Adventure: The True Story of a Great American Road Trip. Chicago: Chicago Review Press. Beschloss, M. 2007. Presidential Courage: Brave Leaders and How They Changed America, 1779–1989. New York: Simon & Schuster. Carver, M. H. 2004. “Bess Wallace Truman: The ‘Boss’ from Independence.” In Inventing a Voice: The Rhetoric of American First Ladies of the Twentieth Century, edited by M. M. Wertheimer, 205–222. Lanham, MD: Rowman and Littlefield. Cottrell, D. M. 2001. “Bess (Elizabeth Virginia Wallace) Truman.” In First Ladies: Their Lives and Their Legacy, edited by L. L. Gould, 303– 310. New York: Routledge. Daniel, C. T. 2011. Dear Bess, Love Harry: Bess Truman’s Letters to Harry Truman, 1919– 1943. Kirksville, MO: Truman State University Press. Elsey, G. 2005. An Unplanned Life: A Memoir. Columbia: University of Missouri Press.

wa l l a c e   t r u m a n

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Essary, H. 1949. “The President’s Boss Bess Truman,” Look Magazine, March 1: 55–59. Ferrell, R. H., ed., 1983. Dear Bess: The Letters from Harry to Bess Truman, 1910–1959. New York: W. W. Norton. Ferrell, R. H. 1994. Harry S. Truman: A Life. Columbia: University of Missouri Press. Ferrell, R. H. 2013. Choosing Truman: The Democratic Convention of 1944. Columbia: University of Missouri Press. Hamby, A. L. 1995. Man of the People: A Life of Harry S. Truman. New York: Oxford University Press. Harry S. Truman Library and Museum, n.d. “Biographical Sketch of Mrs. Harry S. Truman.” http://www.trumanlibrary.org/ bwt‐bio.htm (accessed December 3, 2015). McCullough, D. 1992. Truman. New York: Simon & Schuster. Papers of Harry S. Truman Pertaining to Family, Business and Personal Affairs. n.d. Harry S. Truman Library, Independence, Missouri. http://www.trumanlibrary.org/ hstpaper/fbpa.htm (accessed November 10, 2015). Sale, S. L. 2010. Bess Wallace Truman: Harry’s White House Boss. Lawrence: University Press of Kansas. Schusterman, G. 2010. Oral History Interview with Gloria Schusterman by Ray Geselbracht, May 24. Truman Library. http://www.trumanlibrar y.org/oralhist/ schuster.htm (accessed November 10, 2015). Truman, H. S. 1955–1956. Memoirs, 2 vols. Garden City, NJ: Doubleday. Truman, M. 1986. Bess W. Truman. New York: Macmillan. Watson, R. 2000. The President’s Wives: Reassessing the Office of First Lady. Boulder, CO: Lynne Rienner.

Further Reading McMillen, M. F., and H. Roberson. 2004. Into the Spotlight: Four Missouri Women. Columbia: University of Missouri Press.

Chapter Twenty Eight

Overrated Pleasures and Underrated Treasures: Mamie Eisenhower, a Bridge between First Lady Archetypes Anthony Rama Maravillas

Although she was the last of the first ladies to have been born in the nineteenth century, Mamie Doud Eisenhower belonged to no one particular era as a presidential wife. Historians of first ladies place them into two main categories: the “modern spouses/public presidential partners”—activists embodied in Eleanor Roosevelt, Hillary Clinton, and Michelle Obama; and the “supportive spouses/model wives”—traditionalists exemplified by Bess Truman or Pat Nixon (Watson, 2000: 174–175). Mamie Eisenhower was neither. Instead she served as a bridge between these two poles of first lady types and, in an age of mass media and mass consumption, as an exemplar of a certain kind of public figure in her own right. An examination of the scholarly, journalistic, and firsthand accounts of Mrs. Eisenhower’s very public life will ­support the contentions that follow. As a link between the activists and the ­traditionalists associated with this venerable institution, Mamie Eisenhower was both modern and a living, breathing ­anachronism. While very much a denizen of the ­twentieth‐ century United States, she nonetheless continued to play her role as woman and wife

according to that nineteenth‐century hallmark: the “separate spheres” of white middle‐ and upper‐class Americans. This was manifested in her focus on maintaining a haven of domesticity for a peripatetic g ­ eneral and, later, president Eisenhower in their many homes. At the same time, her more modern sensibility is revealed in her role as the first presidential partner to openly come to terms with the conspicuous consumerism that characterized US society even before the postwar era, beginning as far back as in the 1920s. To this point, Mamie serves as an avatar of 1950s consumption‐oriented US society, that society that had been so recently scarred by the depredations and collective trauma of the Great Depression and World War II. This is evident both in the way she comported herself and in how she maintained the Eisenhower family’s homes. While her traditional outlook may be f­amiliar to readers, her more modern approach has been overlooked in the historiography. To begin with, it is critical that Mamie’s own biography be understood. Mary Geneva Doud was born in Boone, Iowa, on November 14, 1896. Her parents were

A Companion to First Ladies, First Edition. Edited by Katherine A. S. Sibley. © 2016 John Wiley & Sons, Inc. Published 2016 by John Wiley & Sons, Inc.



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John S. Doud and Elvira Carlson Doud, and Mary was forever after known as “Mamie.” Her father ran a successful meatpacking plant in Boone, the Montgomery Live Hog Buyers company, which he, together with this two brothers, had inherited when their father, Royal Doud, retired. Mamie grew up in Boone and then in Cedar Rapids, Iowa, where her father later moved the company headquarters. The family subsequently relocated to Denver, Colorado (Eisenhower, 1996: 9–11). Mamie’s parents, born respectively in 1870 and 1878, had been steeped in the ­tradition of “separate spheres” in their own upbringing; and they raised their children that way. Mr. Doud, the meatpacker, typically and unilaterally made the big decisions that concerned the family and the family business. Mrs. Doud ran the residence and set the emotional tone of the household; she was also responsible for the children and raised, trained, and disciplined them (Holt, 2007: 5). In 1910 the Douds had begun to spend the winters in San Antonio, Texas. There, while visiting a relative of some family friends who had been posted at the US army’s Fort Sam Houston, Mamie had the occasion to meet Second Lieutenant Dwight D. Eisenhower. Eisenhower, a native from Abilene, Kansas, was one of the six children of David and Ida Eisenhower. The two ­married on July 1, 1916, just about a year after their initial meeting; Mamie was only nineteen (Hegeman, 1998: 8–10). Although her maternal ancestors were Swedish Iowans, the well‐off Mamie was raised in the tradition of the southern belle, as her granddaughter Susan has pointed out. She had been taught to manage a sprawling home with servants and to please and cater to her future husband (Eisenhower, 1996: 44). Thus, although she had some training in various aspects of her married life, the adjustment from daughter to wife must have been a bit of a shock for Mamie as she went from pampered child to junior

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army officer’s spouse. All the same she transcended her changed circumstances—and, soon, tragic loss too. The Eisenhowers’ firstborn, son Doud Dwight, died at just three years of age, in 1921. But the second son, John S. D., born in 1922, survived; and Ike and Mamie’s marriage lasted through more than thirty different domiciles occasioned by an army life and other responsibilities—including a span of nearly three years during the war in which they did not once see each other— until Ike’s death on March 25, 1969. Mamie stayed in their last house in Gettysburg, Pennsylvania, the only one they ever owned, until she suffered the stroke that eventually ended her life on November 1, 1979. Early on Mamie had to learn to be frugal with the Eisenhowers’ single income. This was demonstrated in one experience she had of selling off their old furnishings rather than having them shipped to a new posting ahead of one of their many army‐mandated moves. Once at her new post, Mamie discovered that, with the monies realized by those sales, she still could not afford to buy new furniture of comparable quality to that which she had so recently sold. As a result, during the run on the banks that occurred in the depths of the Great Depression in 1933, Mamie found herself compelled to withdraw their savings and to purchase a couch. In the late 1990s it still sat in the livingroom of the family’s Gettysburg farmhouse (Hegeman, 1998: 11). As a new wife, Mamie also lacked any cooking skills: while growing up in the Doud home in Denver, she never even had to make her own bed, let alone engage in any form of housekeeping. At their first post together at Fort Sam Houston, the two spent $49 each month dining at the officers’ mess. This changed as Ike taught his young wife the basic cooking skills he had learned as a youngster growing up in Abilene. Over the years, as keeper of the family home, Mamie learned that she was to “squeeze a dollar until the eagle screamed” and to

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economize as much as possible in order to create and maintain the kind of home in which Ike could feel at peace (Eisenhower, 1996: 45). Mamie’s own life story has been the main subject of a few books, although a comprehensive biography remains to be written. The first one to be made available to the public that looked at her career as first lady was Mamie Doud Eisenhower: A Portrait of a First Lady, published in 1954 by Dorothy Brandon. Brandon had direct access to Mrs. Eisenhower, but her book, written early in Mamie’s first term, could not offer a full portrayal. Alden Hatch’s (1954) A Red Carpet for Mamie also came out that year, but it was a largely anecdotal work, replete with undocumented stories. More than two decades later, granddaughter‐in‐law Julie Nixon Eisenhower, whose marriage to David in 1968 joined the two families at the apex of the Eisenhower administration, wrote a chapter on Mamie and Ike during the latter’s 1955 heart attack episode in Special People, published in 1977. This was soon followed by Lester and Irene David’s Ike and Mamie: The Story of the General and His Lady, which was released in 1981 (David and David, 1981). Susan Eisenhower, one of John S. D. Eisenhower’s children, published Mrs. Ike: Memories and Reflections on  the Life of Mamie Eisenhower in 1996. It  combines the writer’s own experiences with Mamie—Susan was born in 1951—and official biography. Robert E. Dewhirst published his take on Mamie in Dutiful Service, the Life of Mrs. Mamie Eisenhower, in a scant 94 pages (Dewhirst, 2004). Lastly, Marilyn Irvin Holt has had the so‐far final say on this first lady in Mamie Doud Eisenhower, the General’s First Lady (Holt, 2007). There are other sources that examine Mamie’s marriage, work, and contributions piece by piece. The journalist Steve Neal reviewed the Eisenhower family as a whole in The Eisenhowers: A Reluctant Dynasty, published in 1978. Historian Karal Marling contributed an essay on Mamie as a fashion and

cultural icon in As Seen on TV—her 1994 book on American popular culture in the 1950s. Marling again scrutinized Mamie’s legacy as a first lady and as a public figure ­during Ike’s presidency in Mamie Eisenhower, Wife, Mother, First Lady (Eisenhower Institute, 1998)—an Eisenhower Institute pamphlet issued on the one‐hundredth ­anniversary of Mamie’s birthday. Two other Mamie scholars associated with the Eisenhower Institute, Carol A. Hegeman and Edith P. Mayo, also offered brief essays on aspects of Mamie’s biography in this booklet, as did Susan Eisenhower. Susan’s article attempts to understand Mamie through her mother’s correspondence with her own ­parents between 1907 and 1952. Newspaper and magazine accounts focused regularly on Mamie before and during the Eisenhower presidency. Life Magazine examined the candidate’s wife in a brief article titled “They Like Mamie, Too,” in its October 13, 1952 issue (149–150). Lonnelle Aikman wrote an extensive article titled “Inside the White House” for National Geographic’s January 1961 issue. Martin M. Teasley may have stated the obvious in “Ike Was Her Career,” published in Prologue 19 in the ­summer of 1987. The New York Times and popular journals such as Time, Newsweek, and US News & World Report all featured pieces on Mamie in the 1950s and afterward. As products of the time in which they were crafted, these pieces place Mamie, as Maurine H. Beasley claims, in the role of the “prototype of the congenial suburban housewife” (Beasley, 2005: 68). In their own ways, all the works and ­articles cited here show that Mamie was a distinctive first lady. While she was no activist, she was not a reclusive, shadowy figure in the White House either. She was a bridge between these two so‐called archetypes. Eleanor Roosevelt was the exemplar of the activist first lady, who continued a life of advocacy that had started well before she came into the White House. She also worked as a journalist throughout her time as first



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lady, and in doing so made parts of her life with President Franklin Delano Roosevelt vicariously accessible to the US citizenry— for a price. While not the first first lady to earn money in the White House (artist Ellen Wilson, for instance, had sold a number of her own paintings), Eleanor was unusual in generating a sizeable annual income. Funds from her writings, radio broadcasts, and personal appearances averaged over $70,000 annually after 1936 (Beasley, 2010: 83–84). Much of this money she gave to charity; and, as was long her custom, Eleanor also pushed her husband to support various social and political causes she herself endorsed. Since Franklin Roosevelt was ­literally unable to walk among the millions of Americans, Eleanor did so as her husband’s “eyes and ears.” During Roosevelt’s first two presidential terms, Mrs. Roosevelt traveled approximately 300,000 miles, in order both to publicize New Deal programs to the American public and to conduct f­act‐ finding tours (Beasley, 2010: 83). If not cut in Eleanor’s mold, Mamie did not fit that of her immediate predecessor Bess Truman either. Raised, like Mamie, as a member of the late nineteenth‐century small‐ town Midwestern elite, Bess was supposed to have said that a woman’s proper place in public was to “sit beside her husband, be silent and be sure her hat is on straight” (Sale, 2010: 2). Yet as first lady Mrs. Truman was so often away from her husband, tending to her mother in Independence, that she drew criticism (see Chapter  27 in this book). Unlike Mamie, she did not enjoy being in the limelight and avoided the press as much as she could. Bess could at least look forward to less pressure to entertain during the later span of her tenure because the White House underwent a three‐year $5.4‐million renovation beginning in 1949, which necessitated a move for the Trumans to the smaller Blair House (Sale, 2010: 88–96). Years of neglect under the Roosevelts had left the mansion structurally unsound. For the domestically inclined but more extroverted Mamie, the

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result was a pleasing prospect; she would get to live, and host, in a completely remodeled home. Mrs. Eisenhower’s demeanor and outlook, as this chapter suggests, differed greatly from those of both of her predecessors, the one too busy to pay attention to the crumbling house, the other escaping to her family in Missouri whenever she could. Unlike Eleanor Roosevelt, often absent on fact‐finding trips or engaged in her writing, appearances, and radio show obligations, Mamie was totally engrossed in the domestic doings of the White House. And, in contrast to Bess Truman, Mamie enjoyed the visibility and influence that the White House position gave her and she used it, together with her role as first lady, as a platform for her embrace of the 1950s’ consumer‐oriented national culture. While she ran the White House on a tight budget, much as she had as an army wife, after years of hardships and loss occasioned by the Depression and the war, she reveled in the gradual return to prosperity that this decade introduced for so many. For her, it brought components of the American dream that she had long cherished: home ownership and material comfort, certainly, but, in addition, the opportunity to display a certain fashion and style that would win wide acceptance for her from the American people. As she had done while Ike was on active duty in the army, Mamie personally oversaw many facets of life in her home. In this case, however, that job entailed supervising all the demands that went along with living in the White House. The president’s annual salary was $100,000, which was topped off with $50,000 for personal expenses. While that may have seemed generous for the 1950s, this sum had to cover the salaries of nonfederal employees and of the domestics who worked in the White House, personal phone calls, laundry, and food for the family and private guests. Mamie budgeted a monthly allowance of $100.00 for the ­family’s own meals. After her years as an army wife who had long run households on

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limited funds, she micromanaged the costs of the White House’s every‐day as well as extraordinary events (Beasley, 2005: 67). She looked for grocery store sales; ­monitored daily menus; insisted that vegetables grown at the Eisenhower’s family farm be trucked in for meals; and demanded that leftovers be served for lunch the following day. When it came to the funding of the exigencies of the Eisenhowers’ existence in the White House, Mamie’s mantra seemed to be: “Don’t run it on the Eagle [the US taxpayers]” (Holt, 2007: 64–65). Unlike Eleanor Roosevelt’s White House, Mamie’s was meticulously maintained. Further, in contrast to both previous first ladies, Mamie made it a priority to be involved in designing and hosting activities at the presidential abode, to which she liked to bring a share of glamour. Mamie relished the socializing required of a first lady. In the course of the eight years of the Eisenhower presidency, she and Ike hosted 37 foreign heads of state and over thirty other official visitors from abroad. These included Queen Elizabeth and Prince Philip of Britain and the leaders of Japan, the Philippines, Korea, Vietnam, Canada, and many other countries from throughout the Middle East, Africa, Europe, and Asia. Mamie was well accustomed to dealing directly with such powerful guests from her experiences as the wife of a career US army officer in important postings such as Washington, DC, Panama, the Philippine Islands, and Paris. She had learned the protocol that was germane to formal occasions: who was to stand in which receiving line and in what order, and the proper forms of introduction and seating for guests of honor. Indeed, Mamie’s innovation was to change the seating pattern for state dinners that dated back to Theodore Roosevelt’s days in the White House. Instead of the U‐shaped dinner table arrangement favored by the first Roosevelt, Mamie ordered that one resembling the letter “E” be set up. By having the Eisenhowers and the guests of honor

sit at the vertical stem of the “E,” she made them all face the entire gathering, and no one would sit with his or her back to the guests of honor (Holt, 2007: 90–93). When it came to relations with the press, unlike Eleanor, Mamie was repulsed by the prospect. Soon after Ike’s victory in the 1952 election, when the New York Herald Tribune asked her to become a part‐time journalist and offered her the opportunity of penning a newspaper column tentatively titled “An Incident a Day in the Life of the First Lady,” Mamie replied: “It sounds like a terrible chore and smacks of [Eleanor Roosevelt’s] ‘My Day’ column, of which I have a perfect horror” (Holt, 2007: 39). Whereas Mrs. Roosevelt met with the press more than three hundred times during Mr. Roosevelt’s presidency, Mamie, like Bess Truman, only held one press conference. In this first and last meeting, which was held on March 11, 1953 for female journalists, Mamie told the attendees the coming week’s official itinerary and then fielded questions concerning her choice of furniture for the White House and when she had last personally driven an automobile. While Mamie had become proficient at dealing with the press during General Eisenhower’s wartime service and in the recent campaign, she declined to convoke further meetings with reporters at the White House. Instead her social secretary, Mary Jane McCaffree, met periodically with the Washington press corps, briefing it on upcoming official and social events and Mamie’s planned outfits for the latter (Holt, 2007: 71–72) Mamie’s partnership with Ike did not include sharing the media’s glaring spotlight with him. Indeed, Mamie shunned any sort of official governmental post or duties. In the eight years of Ike’s presidency, she entered her husband’s West Wing office four times. She claimed that she was never present on any of those few occasions, either, for any type of discussion on policy. Not s­ urprisingly, she never had any sort of official policies or proposed legislation attached to her name.



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All of this, Marilyn Irvin Holt argues, originated in the formula that the president and Mamie had agreed upon during his long army career: the two simply separated home life from work life. Mamie later told an interviewer regarding this arrangement: “A wife never went near headquarters. You never went to his place of operation” (Holt, 2007: 69). Mamie believed that there should be a strict division between a person’s private life and his or her public one, including the workplace and all its attendant responsibilities. This carried over from her days as an army wife to her husband’s tenure as president of Columbia University and to her eight years in the White House. Still, there were some role reversals in their marriage: Ike did much of the cooking and gardening, while Mamie managed the finances (Holt, 2007: 142). What is certain, though, is that Mamie was Ike’s full partner in his work and they were a close‐knit family. There is still some debate within the extended Eisenhower family over how much influence Mamie exercised over the president, but it was not insignificant. This was evident during the 1960 election, when the republican nominee, Vice President Richard Nixon, was counting on the boost that additional national campaigning efforts by Ike could have provided. However, Mamie reportedly quashed that possibility by telling Pat Nixon, without the president’s knowledge or consent, that the physical strain of traveling and making speeches would have threatened the already delicate state of the aging president’s health (Holt, 2007: 123). As this discussion suggests, Mamie Eisenhower was a mid‐twentieth century “bridge” between the more traditional first ladies—such as the wives not only of Truman, but of Kennedy and Nixon as well—and the activists found so strikingly in Roosevelt and her successors, the spouses of Ford, Carter, Clinton, and Obama (Watson, 2000: 48–57). Mamie actually possessed elements and characteristics of both groups. She acted

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as her husband’s collaborator, helpmate and counselor, studiously staying out of any political role, yet at the same time she exerted an influence on the American nation that was at once subtle and still widely felt—in her public behavior, in her appearance, and in the way in which she related to her spouse. The assertion that Mamie spent much of her time as first lady “lying in bed in her nightgown” is misleading at best and a caricature at worst (Harris, 2012: 530). In fact she may have chosen that venue as her most productive one for responding to some of the five hundred thousand cards and letters she received, while warding off the continuing effects of the illnesses she suffered, including Ménière’s disease (Holt, 2007). That malady was an inner ear disorder that caused her to be unsteady in her walk (Beasley, 2005). From the bedroom, Mamie exercised, to take a page from an Eisenhower scholar, a “Hidden Hand” style of conducting herself and collaborating with President Eisenhower while first lady (Greenstein, 1982). Moreover, she would not be the first first lady to find her bed a useful surface for work; Lou Hoover too worked in her sleeping quarters (see Chapter 24 in this book). Although they were unquestionably devoted to each other, Mamie and President Eisenhower lived in different worlds even as they occupied the same home. This can be attributed to the nineteenth‐century roots of each. Scholars note that the “separate spheres” concept of men’s and women’s lives delineated for the white middle and upper classes in that era highly distinct obligations and duties for each gender (Bellah et al., 1985; Chafe, 1991: 4–5). While Mamie Eisenhower was living in a later period, when many women were becoming active agents of social change, she remained wedded to the model she had been raised with. Thus she focused her life on the many homes the couple shared, as she recalled in 1973: “it’s in the home that everything starts. And ours has always been a home. No matter where we were or what sort of house

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we lived in or anything else” (Hegeman, 1998: 13). Making their many, often institutional spaces more familiar and comfortable by arranging a few photographs or pictures and knick‐knacks turned a rented apartment or an US Army post billeting into a home for Ike and herself, she noted. As first lady in the mid‐twentieth century, her strict interpretation of separate spheres was a vestige of the preceding century, and by modern standards Mamie’s views in this matter appear outdated to say the least. Yet one scholar sees Mamie as being quite ­perceptive in reading the American public’s mood at the time when Ike and she resided in the White House (Holt, 2007: 141–142). It was an era that celebrated domesticity, but also the spending and the goods that enhanced home life. As the following paragraphs suggest, Mamie’s persona and attributes finely matched a growing suburban movement and a shifting American culture as well. Indeed, the focus on home life that she exemplified was now played out in the larger society, fueled most importantly by the precipitous growth of suburbs that trans­ formed American society in the postwar era. As Richard Polenberg (1980) contends, between 1950 and 1960 the number of inhabitants actually dropped in fourteen of the fifteen US cities with populations of at least one million. On the other hand, the suburbs that surrounded them grew dramatically. The result was that the focus of many of the aspects of the shared national culture—the evolution of political views while city dwellers were becoming suburban homeowners; the heightening of socioeconomic class differentiation as whites fled the cities to be replaced by blacks from the rural South; the rise of the suburban shopping center; and the phenomenon of Americans commuting long distances to work—began to play out not in the city centers, but in the periphery of the largest metropolises (Polenberg, 1980: 127–163). Meanwhile, as William O’Neill suggests, political challenges such as the rise of

McCarthyism, the gridlock in Congress that fostered an obstructive coalition of Republicans and conservative Democrats, a seemingly endless war in Korea, and the cumulative scandals in the federal government—all put paid to President Truman and the Democratic Party’s long hold on the presidency. Ike, who had been seen as the “X factor” in US politics since the end of the war in 1945 (Democrats had claimed him at first in 1948), was the intriguing pick of many American voters for Truman’s ­successor. His résumé as a five‐star general and as one of the main architects of the Allied victory in the European Theater of World War II—as well as his congenial and photogenic ways—was irresistible to the electorate when he ran as a Republican in 1952 (O’Neill, 1986: 176–177). Significant, too, was his use of the new medium of television, although he had initially resisted its efficacy (Halberstam, 1994). The Eisenhower “boom” and the focus on the home emerged from a backdrop of hardship and economic challenge. The few decades preceding Dwight D. Eisenhower’s tenure as president had been uniformly grim for many Americans. The 1920s had been in reality a second Gilded Age, in which some members of the public accrued vast amounts of the total annual national income, while large segments of the population treaded water and relied on credit and increasing indebtedness to acquire the products of their collective labor and consumption. The following decades were even more horrifying as Americans faced the shocking losses that accompanied the stock market crash of 1929, the outrageous unemployment rates of the Great Depression, and the deaths and disruptions of World War II that began in late 1941. The American economy of the 1950s and early 1960s was different from that of the preceding drama‐ridden decades. The Eisenhowers presided over a period that featured a relatively milder version of the boom‐and‐bust cycle that, historically, had



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been the US economy’s main characteristic since at least the early nineteenth century. There were three recessions: in 1953–1954, in 1957–1958, and in 1960–1961. Economic historian Harold E. Vatter attributes all of them, at least partly, to decreased governmental spending at the behest of the administration (Vatter, 1963: 90–97). In the midst of these slumps, the aggregate unemployment rate hit postwar highs of 5.8 ­percent in March 1954 and of 7.5 percent in September 1958 (Vatter, 1963: 119– 120). Despite these periodic failures, many Americans still managed to consume the hallmarks of what was called the “American dream.” As suburbanization indicated, homeownership became attainable for those who had heretofore been renters: thirteen million new homes were built between 1948 and 1958. A one‐story, three‐bedroom house could be had for $15,000, a price made more affordable for the many new veterans with access to GI bill guaranteed loans (Holt, 2007: 64). Women were working in increasing numbers and, if their jobs were still often part‐ time, their earnings contributed to a growth in consumer spending on “homes and cars, refrigerators and washing machines, telephones and multiple televisions” (Kessler Harris, 2003: 302). First Lady Mamie Eisenhower seemed to embody that version of the “good life” that could be had through the growing practice of purchasing various consumer goods and durables once considered luxuries, those objects that the design critic Thomas Hine called “populuxe” (Marling, 1994: 14). Ike and Mamie participated in the decade’s rush to buy their way to the American dream by becoming homeowners themselves for the first time. After years of residing in rented flats and army housing, they bought their first home in Gettysburg, Pennsylvania in 1950. No suburban tract home, this one; it was an old farmhouse that Mamie intended to restore. They planned it to be their full‐time residence after Ike’s

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eventual retirement from the presidency of Columbia University, a job he had assumed in 1948. Mamie was drawn to the farmhouse because of its trees and location, close to the town’s Civil War battlefield sites. Unfortunately the Eisenhowers had to gut the entire building. They did save the exterior walls, and then, at Mamie’s instructions, had her ideal retirement refuge constructed, replete with airy rooms and sweeping vistas (Ambrose, 1990: 245). The final cost of the restoration came to a figure that most Americans of that time could not afford: over $200,000 (Holt, 2007: 64). Retirement after Columbia was interrupted, of course, when the nation called once again for the general’s service, this time in the Oval Office; nevertheless, the Eisenhower’s rustic getaway continued to fulfill Mamie’s conception of the sanctity of the family home as a refuge from the vicissitudes of the outside world, especially during Ike’s illnesses throughout the presidency and afterwards. Gettysburg would be where the president recuperated and rested after he had his heart attack in 1955 and his ileitis operation in 1956. Twelve years later, when he was at the Walter Reed military hospital in Washington with his final illness, Mamie remained convinced that, if she could have gotten him back to their farm then, the environment there would have cured his ­ailments (Hegeman, 1998: 14). Mamie’s ability to buy and properly outfit her own house helped underline her position as the exemplar of 1950s consumerism; but, perhaps more importantly, so too did her emphasis on the “new look” in fashion, which she had adopted even before entering the White House. Mamie’s parents and grandparents had long before taught her the importance of personal appearance and demeanor. This was reinforced by her experience as an army wife, in a context where for thirty‐five years she had to pay close attention to both in order to foster her husband’s career. She said that “as a soldier’s wife I learned that pride in personal

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appearance is not a superficial thing” (Eisenhower, 1996: 282). It was in this respect, at least for the American nation and for the many foreigners who saw and interacted with her in her official duties, that Mamie made her mark as first lady. While the term is more often associated with her husband’s Cold War military policies, the fashion label “new look” was the postwar product of the French designer Christian Dior. As Karal Ann Marling notes, Dior created the new look as a reaction against the wartime austerity of the “‘soldier‐ woman with shoulders like boxers.’” Dior’s new style, first released for the public in March 1947, was an attempt to mold postwar women into “flowers,” replete with natural shoulders, narrow waists, and blooming skirts. To top things off, Dior mandated that his models wear larger‐than‐life “cartwheel hats” (Marling, 1994: 9). Mamie was soon drawn to the new look and then carried that interest into her years as the first lady in the 1950s. Women’s fashion offered other choices too in the period, including the shirtwaist dress and the sack dress. While in the White House, Mamie thrived in what some called her “Mamie look.” It often consisted of a one‐piece dress, a full skirt, and an approximately thirteen‐inch hemline made of a slightly reflective material (Marling, 1994: 25). She selected the parts of Dior’s new look that emphasized those features of her body that she took pride in: her bosom, her waist, and some hints of her legs. To this outfit Mamie added that accoutrement that celebrated Ike and her own achievements: charm bracelets that, in one case, consisted of tanks, a helmet, and five stars to reflect her husband’s attainment of the uncommon rank of “General of the Army”; a hairstyle that was bobbed and featured bangs that she may have first adopted while the Eisenhowers were posted in Panama in the early 1920s; dyed‐to‐match shoes; tinted gloves; and sometimes very elaborate hats. In turn, Ike’s first lady ignored fads such as the fashion industry‐mandated

periodic raising and lowering of hemlines, the pencil‐thin silhouettes popular in the 1950s, and the sack dress itself (Holt, 2007: 83). Hers was a winning ensemble and an au courant fashion statement, as shown by Mamie’s inclusion in the New York Dress Institute’s “list of the twelve best‐dressed women” every year of her tenure as first lady (Gould, 2014: 317; Eisenhower, 1996: 281). There is other evidence in her fashion choices that reveals Mamie’s position as a high‐profile symbol of the 1950s consumer culture. For one, she influenced that period’s tastes by having her boudoir in the White House painted pink and by choosing pink‐topped jars of Elizabeth Arden cosmetics, pink bathroom rugs, and pink bedjackets. Mamie also had the Gettysburg farmhouse and “Mamie’s Cabin,” which Ike and she kept near the Augusta National Golf Club in Georgia, furnished with pink tiles and soap dishes. “First Lady Pink” or “Mamie Pink” was so well known that by 1955 manufacturers and their designers marketed hats, gloves, dresses, linoleum flooring, dishware, plastic buckets, light bulbs, kitchen appliances, and cereals in that color. Hence, while Life magazine gave the Brooks Brothers the credit for 1955 being “the peak year for pink, at least for men” (which it claimed in the issue of May 1, 1955), as reflected in that company’s line of dress shirts, Mamie Eisenhower may have actually started the trend of daringly hued consumer goods while she was first lady (Marling, 1994: 38–40). To this day, many bathrooms in houses across America still bear the pink residue of Mamie’s legacy. Another facet of the 1950s consumer culture that Mamie embraced was the new emphasis on America’s young, specifically its teenagers; youth, of course, were i­ ncreasingly identified as a potentially lucrative center of the national market by Madison Avenue advertising experts during the Eisenhower era. Mamie was a good fit with regard to this nascent focus on the nation’s youth. A  grandmother while she was only in her



mamie eisenhower, a bridge between first lady archetypes

early fifties, she disdained both growing old and its hallmarks: “I hate old‐lady clothes. And I shall never wear them” (Marling, 1994: 24). A reporter for the Brownsville Herald noticed this attitude while interviewing her for a 1948 article. He wrote that she looked much younger than her fifty‐one years of age, liked “unmatronly fashions,” and was inclined to “the longer dresses of the new look but hopes that they don’t get too close to the ankle.” For a photo shoot that would accompany a biography for Colliers during the 1952 campaign, Mamie chose a halter‐top sundress with a “billowing skirt that ‘made her look more like a girl than a mature woman’” (all quoted in Marling, 1994: 24). This anecdote points up Mamie’s preference for lines and cuts more suited to younger women. Even her decision to wear bracelets whose “charms” represented important achievements in Ike’s careers partook of a fad that was then popular among teenagers, coeds, and débutantes (Marling, 1998: 37). Both before and during the Eisenhower presidency, Mamie welcomed the burgeoning youth‐oriented national culture. As first lady, too, she would have been aware of her own visibility as a celebrity in America’s popular culture amid its widespread outlets of television and glossy magazines. Despite (or perhaps because of) her iconic association with so many 1950s trends, from suburbanization to youth culture, Mamie Eisenhower is still much misunderstood today. This confusion is reflected among Mamie scholars themselves. While Marilyn Irvin Holt sees her tenure in the White House as generally positive, Feather Foster Schwartz states that Mamie’s eight years there were largely a triumph of style over substance (Schwartz, 2011: 153). Meanwhile, Robert E. Dewhirst echoes Holt by emphasizing Mrs. Eisenhower’s dynamism and her tactful and wise actions as first lady that purportedly originated in Mamie’s years as an army wife (Dewhirst, 2004: 47–59). Finally, Maurine H. Beasley claims that Mamie’s reputation as

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first lady benefited from her seeming congruence with the values of middle America (Beasley, 2005: 69). What is certain is that, as the 1942 song “I’m Glad There Is You” holds, Mamie was actually one of those “underrated treasures” in the midst of some “overrated pleasures” during one of America’s most notorious eras of conspicuous consumption. She and her legacy therefore deserve to undergo closer scrutiny, including an updated biography that addresses her full life. Mamie was many things to the American people and to the world. As a first lady, she was the bridge between the activist presidential partners such as Eleanor Roosevelt and the traditional first ladies exemplified by Bess Truman. Mrs. Ike did not venture far afield as her husband’s representative, in the way Eleanor was wont to do, but, even as she saw her sphere as separate from her husband’s, she relished being a visible first lady in a way in which Bess never did; Mamie was President Eisenhower’s active collaborator, helpmate, counselor, and companion, even as she still was most comfortable hewing to a domestic role in the home. Finally, Mamie can rightly be seen as the avatar of the 1950s consumer‐oriented society and economy, which so many Americans yearned for after the difficulties of the Great Depression and war of the previous twenty years. The Eisenhower administration has been largely recognized as a successful one, and Mamie Eisenhower, whether decked out to the nines with her husband or in her pink bedjacket writing letters, was a critical reason for that shared and very public success. References Ambrose, S. E. 1990. Eisenhower, Soldier and President. New York: Touchstone. Beasley, M. H. 2005. First Ladies and the Press: The Unfinished Partnership of the Media Age. Evanston, IL: Northwestern University Press. Beasley, M. H. 2010. Eleanor Roosevelt, Transformative First Lady. Lawrence: University of Kansas Press.

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Bellah, R. N., R. Madsen, W. M. Sullivan, A. Swidler, and S. M. Tipton. 1985. Habits of the Heart. New York: Perennial Library. Chafe, W. H. 1991. The Paradox of Change. New York: Oxford University Press. David, L. and I. David. 1981. Ike and Mamie. Thorndike, ME: Thorndike Press. Dewhirst, R. E. 2004. Dutiful Service, the Life of Mrs. Mamie Eisenhower. Hauppage, NY: Nova History. Eisenhower, S. 1996. Mrs. Ike. Sterling, VA: Capital Books. Gould, L. L. 2014. American First Ladies: Their Lives and Their Legacy. New York: Routledge. Greenstein, F. I. 1982. The Hidden Hand Presidency. New York: Basic Books. Halberstam, D. 1994. The Fifties. New York: Ballantine Books. Harris, B. 2012. The First Ladies Fact Book: Revised and Updated. New York: Black Dog and Leventhal. Hatch, A. 1954. Red Carpet for Mamie. New York: Henry Holt. Hegeman, C. 1998. “Mamie Eisenhower in Perspective.” In Mamie Eisenhower, Wife, Mother, First Lady: Her Impact and Influence on Her Time, edited by C. A. Hegeman and E.  P. Mayo, 7–14. Gettysburg: Eisenhower Historic Site. Holt, M. I. 2007. Mamie Doud Eisenhower. Lawrence: University Press of Kansas. Kessler Harris, A. 2003. Out to Work: A History of Wage‐Earning Women in the United States 20th Anniversary Edition. New York: Oxford University Press. Marling, K. A. 1994. As Seen on TV. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Marling, K. A. 1998. “Mamie’s Hats: The White House, the New Look, and Meaning of Style in the 1950s.” In Mamie Eisenhower, Wife, Mother, First Lady: Her Impact and Influence on Her Time, edited by C. A. Hegeman and E. P. Mayo, 28–43. Gettysburg: Eisenhower Historic Site.

O’Neill, W. L. 1986. American High. New York: Free Press. Polenberg, R. 1980. One Nation Divisible. New York: Penguin Books. Sale, S. L. 2010. Bess Wallace Truman. Lawrence: University Press of Kansas. Schwartz, F. F. 2011. The First Ladies. Naperville, IL: Cumberland House. Vatter, H. E. 1963. The US Economy in the Fifties. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Watson, R. 2000. The Presidents’ Wives: Reassessing the office of First Lady. Boulder, CO: Lynne Reiner.

Further Reading Anthony, C. S. 1990. First Ladies. New York: William Morrow. Chadakoff, R. 1989. Eleanor Roosevelt’s My Day. New York: Pharos Books. Chafe, W. H. 2012. Bill and Hillary. New York: Farrar, Straus, and Giroux. Kantor, J. 2012. The Obamas. New York: Back Bay Books. Neal, S., ed. 2002. Eleanor and Harry. New York: Scribner. Petigny, A. 2004. “Illegitimacy, Postwar Psychology, and the Reperiodizaiton of the Sexual Revolution.” Journal of Social History 38: 63–79. Eisenhower, D. D. 1948. Crusade in Europe. New York: Doubleday and Company. Eisenhower, J. N. 1986. Pat Nixon: The Untold Story. New York: Simon & Schuster. Goodwin, D. K. 1994. No Ordinary Time. New York: Simon & Schuster. Johnson, Lady B. 1970. A White House Diary. New York: Holt, Rinehart, and Winston. Maravillas, A. R. 2002. “Nixon in Nixonland.” Southern California Quarterly 84: 169–181. Perry, B. A. 2004. Jacqueline Kennedy, First Lady of the New Frontier. Lawrence: University Press of Kansas.

Chapter Twenty Nine

Jacqueline Kennedy Katherine Jellison

Popular accounts of America’s first ladies commonly characterize presidential wives as belonging to one of four major categories: the celebrity, the reluctant first lady, the con­ troversial first lady, and the political partner (Mayo and Graddy, 2004; Pastan, 2009). Celebrity first ladies, such as the vivacious hostess (Dolley Madison) or the beautiful bride (Frances Cleveland), are those whose acclaim eclipsed that of other well‐known figures of their day—perhaps even that of their own husbands. Reluctant first ladies include the grief‐stricken (Jane Pierce), the ailing (Eliza Johnson), the homebody (Bess Truman), and those who, for any reason, made limited public appearances during their husbands’ terms. Controversial first ladies include those who allegedly spent too much money (Mary Lincoln), wielded too much influence over their husbands (Edith Wilson), spoke too bluntly (Betty Ford), or were viewed as doing all of the above (Nancy Reagan). Political partners are those first ladies whose efforts were vital to building and sustaining their husbands’ political careers and achievements (Florence Harding, Eleanor Roosevelt, Lady Bird Johnson, Hillary Clinton). Unlike the authors of popular treatments, those who write and compile scholarly histo­ ries of the White House and biographies of

its residents acknowledge that most first ladies played roles too complex to be con­ tained within a single category (Gould, 2001; Watson and Eksterowicz, 2006). Dolley Madison, for example, was a fashion­ able hostess, but she organized her soirées as occasions for her husband’s political allies and opponents to communicate and carry the nation’s business outside the formal halls of government (Allgor, 2006). Nancy Reagan, her expensive clothing and harsh criticism of certain Reagan administration officials aside, was likewise instrumental to much of her husband’s political and govern­ ing success (Benze, 2001). First lady schol­ arship rarely reveals women whose public careers saw them inhabiting all four catego­ ries, but there are exceptions. Political part­ ners Eleanor Roosevelt and Hillary Clinton, for example, became international celebrities during their years of public service, but they also generated controversies that led to their going through periods of reluctance and withdrawal (Breitzer, 2006; Gutin, 2006). A careful review of the historiography reveals that yet a third woman arguably embodies all four first lady types: Jacqueline Kennedy. Over more than a half‐century since the Kennedy presidency ended, much of the literature about Jacqueline Kennedy has focused on her celebrity, her reluctance

A Companion to First Ladies, First Edition. Edited by Katherine A. S. Sibley. © 2016 John Wiley & Sons, Inc. Published 2016 by John Wiley & Sons, Inc.

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to be a political player, and controversies regarding her jet‐set lifestyle and second marriage to shipping magnate Aristotle Onassis. Increasingly, however, scholars acknowledge the significant role she played in her husband’s political success and in sus­ taining the Kennedy family’s political clout for generations to come. The Reluctant Celebrity Jacqueline Lee Bouvier, nicknamed “Jackie,” was born on July 21, 1929, to stock broker John Vernou Bouvier III, popularly known as “Jack,” and his socially prominent wife, the former Janet Lee. The stock market crash three months later and her father’s free‐wheeling spending habits caused young Jacqueline, her parents, and later her sister Lee (born in 1933) to rely frequently on the assistance of other members of the Bouvier and Lee families to support their lavish life­ style. As John H. Davis, a cousin from the Bouvier line, chronicled in a memoir of his famous relative (Davis, 1996), Jacqueline’s childhood had all the hallmarks of a youth lived in East Coast high society: equestrian competitions, summer homes, the best pri­ vate schools, and birthday parties that were mentioned in newspaper society columns. From a very early age, the future first lady thus garnered the type of publicity and attention that few children receive, and this offered her a preview of what her life would later become as the world’s most watched celebrity. Publicity about Jacqueline and her family took a negative turn in 1940, when her par­ ents divorced, and Janet’s violent temper and Jack’s frequent pursuit of liquor and of other women became public knowledge. In part as a result of this publicity and of the stigma she felt as a child of divorce in a Roman Catholic family (a relative rarity in 1940), the quiet and bookish young Jacqueline increasingly sought solitude and refuge in her studies and in horseback riding. As a result, she became

an accomplished student of art, history, lit­ erature, and modern languages and a highly skilled horsewoman. She also became very protective of her privacy and displayed a new aloofness—even toward her Bouvier cousins, with whom she had previously been close (Davis, 1996). With Janet Bouvier’s remarriage to wealthy investment banker Hugh D. Auchinchloss in 1942, Jacqueline and her sister Lee gained greater family stability and social prestige but still lacked personal resources. The three chil­ dren from Auchinchloss’s first two marriages and the two he had later with Janet—his third wife—enjoyed generous cash allowances and a place in their wealthy father’s will; but the Bouvier sisters had to rely on a limited stipend from their father Jack. The sisters nevertheless successfully portrayed themselves as children of great wealth and privilege (Davis, 1996). Jacqueline Bouvier may have attended her coming‐out party in an inexpensive off‐the‐ rack gown, but influential society columnist Igor Cassini was impressed enough to dub the poised eighteen‐year‐old “Queen Deb of the year for 1947” (see Mulvaney, 2001: 19). As a result of their mother’s insistence that marrying well was the best way to improve their financial situation, both Bouvier sisters wed men from prominent families in 1953. In April Lee married publishing heir Michael Canfield; and Jacqueline, having graduated from George Washington University and pursued a brief career in journalism, married John F. (“Jack”) Kennedy in a September celebration that the press labeled “the wed­ ding of the year” (Davis, 1996: 189). Although most biographers note that her marriage to the handsome and wealthy jun­ ior senator from Massachusetts was a genuine love match, it also provided Jacqueline with the financial wherewithal that had previously eluded her (Klein, 1996; Andersen, 1996; Andersen, 2013). The couple’s wedding at a church in Newport, Rhode Island and the lavish reception at the nearby Auchinchloss estate merited a multipage photo essay in Life magazine and launched the new Mrs. Kennedy



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on a lifetime of headlines that dwarfed any previous publicity she had earned as Miss Bouvier (Jellison, 2008). Numerous scholarly and popular biogra­ phies, memoirs by family members and friends, and even coffee table books featur­ ing photos of the glamorous young couple (Suero and Garside, 2001) document the public’s fascination with Jack and Jacqueline Kennedy during his years in the US Senate. Their fashionable residence in the Georgetown section of Washington, DC, the birth of their daughter Caroline in 1957, and their visits to the Kennedy family ­compound in Hyannis Port, Massachusetts captured the attention of journalists, pho­ tographers, and television cameras. Under the direction of the senator’s influential father Joseph P. Kennedy, businessman and former ambassador to Great Britain, the Kennedy family and its associates largely prevented unwanted intrusions on the cou­ ple’s privacy and vigilantly controlled the images the media presented. For example, when her husband ran for a second term in the Senate in 1958, Jacqueline’s campaign duties included a carefully scripted televi­ sion appearance with her mother‐in‐law Rose and sisters‐in‐law Eunice and Jean. Speaking in a soft voice (the kind of voice that Jack Bouvier had taught her was appeal­ ingly feminine), young Mrs. Kennedy pre­ sented herself to Massachusetts television viewers as the ideal 1950s political wife: def­ erential to her mother‐in‐law, devoted to her husband’s career, and happy in her role as wife and mother (Leamer, 1994). The type of image control the Kennedys exerted in the 1950s became more daunting in 1960, when Senator Kennedy successfully captured the democratic nomination for the presidency. Jacqueline, who had suffered a miscarriage and a stillbirth prior to Caroline’s arrival, now used the excuse of another ­pregnancy to bow out of much of the 1960 campaign. While her husband accepted his party’s nomination at the national c­ onvention in Los Angeles, the candidate’s wife stayed

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behind in Hyannis Port and largely avoided press scrutiny. In the closing weeks of both the campaign and her pregnancy, however, Jacqueline joined her husband in New York for a ticker tape parade and appeared with him in front of the press after his narrow victory over republican candidate Richard ­ Nixon (Perry, 2004). Life’s cover photo of the Hyannis Port victory rally prominently featured a beaming and very pregnant Jacqueline. During the next three years, the American public would become highly accus­ tomed to such images; the woman they famil­ iarly referred to by the nickname “Jackie” was about to become the nation’s most frequent cover girl (Shulman, 1970). The White House Years Entering the White House in January 1961 with three‐year‐old Caroline and newborn John F. Kennedy Junior, the new first lady became a media sensation. She was the third youngest first lady in US history, and she and the president were the first White House res­ idents with young children since Edith and Theodore Roosevelt. In the early 1960s, at a time when the nation was still in the midst of a baby boom, women’s magazines were tout­ ing the concept of family “togetherness,” and society encouraged women to embrace the roles of wife and mother with unbridled enthusiasm, Jacqueline Kennedy seemed the ideal first lady. In her rare press interviews about her new role, she emphasized that her primary goal was to be a successful wife and mother and named low‐profile Bess Truman as her favorite former first lady because Mrs. Truman had maintained a normal fam­ ily life while in the White House. Eager to catch a glimpse of domestic life in the Kennedy White House, press photographers frequently requested photographs of the first lady with her children but only received them under clearly defined guidelines. Cognizant of the toll that press intrusions had taken on her own childhood, the first lady sought to

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protect Caroline and John Junior from a ­similar fate and carefully monitored photo­ graphic access to them. During periods when his wife was away from the White House, however, President Kennedy and his press secretary Pierre Salinger often defied the first lady’s wishes and scored political points by releasing photos of the attractive Kennedy children at play (Perry, 2004). Photos of the first lady without the chil­ dren were another matter (see Figure 29.1). With the assistance of hat designer Halston, hairdresser Kenneth Battelle, clothing designer Oleg Cassini, and her wealthy father‐in‐law’s bankroll, Jacqueline Kennedy carefully developed the photogenic “Jackie look.” Sporting jaunty pillbox hats atop her bouffant hairdos and wearing monochro­ matic dresses, suits, and evening gowns with simple lines, the first lady created a fashion sensation that landed her on the covers and pages of the nation’s news periodicals as well as fashion and women’s magazines (Cassini, 1995; Bowles, 2001; Mulvaney, 2001). When the president and his wife visited Canada early in the Kennedy administration,

Figure  29.1  First official White House photo­ graph of Jacqueline Kennedy, 1961. Source: Library of Congress.

Life ignored the chief executive and instead placed a picture of the first lady and a Mountie—both in resplendent red—on that week’s cover. A few weeks later, when the Kennedys made a trip to Europe that included meetings with French President De Gaulle in Paris and Soviet Premier Khrushchev in Vienna, the first lady’s sophisticated style caught the attention of international journal­ ists and photographers. The fact that a f­ ormer French literature major could converse fluently with President De Gaulle in his ­ native language and was also proficient in Spanish and Italian further endeared her to the European press. The European public also responded to her positively, and, like its American counterpart, increasingly referred to her by the nickname Jackie. In the streets of Paris, Vienna, and elsewhere on the Kennedys’ European tour, crowds chanted for “Jackie, Jackie, Jackie,” and she apprecia­ tively smiled and waved to her admirers. The president jokingly referred to himself as “the man who accompanied Jacqueline Kennedy to Paris,” and her success in Europe translated into even greater attention and popularity at home as the US media reported extensively on her European triumph (Perry, 2004: 85). In the afterglow of the Kennedys’ European trip, the president and his political aides began to recognize that the first lady had become a major political asset. Unlike other political wives of the era, such as Vice President Johnson’s wife Lady Bird, Jacqueline Kennedy had not helped her hus­ band build his political career. By the time she married John Kennedy, he was already thirty‐six‐years‐old and a sitting US senator. She had campaigned with him for reelection to the Senate in 1958 and joined him on the 1960 presidential campaign before her preg­ nancy, but she and others knew that she had not been instrumental to his previous politi­ cal success. In fact Kennedy and his advisors had worried that middle‐class Americans would have difficulty relating to a candidate’s wife who had attended finishing schools,



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débutante balls, and equestrian competitions. Even after recognizing the political goodwill that his wife’s presence could provide, the president still worried about some of her activities. He fretted over press rumors about the first lady’s extravagant wardrobe budget and wanted her to spend less time away on international vacations with her sister Lee, who was now living in London with her ­second husband, Stanislas Radziwill. Ignoring these admonitions, Jacqueline Kennedy fre­ quently sought refuge from Washington poli­ tics at one of the family’s vacation homes or traveled abroad as a private citizen. In the media environment of the twenty‐first cen­ tury, these recurrent absences would spell political disaster; but they were not unprece­ dented in the mid‐twentieth century. Mamie Eisenhower had often spurned the media spotlight, and Bess Truman had frequently fled the White House fishbowl to travel back home to Missouri. In an era before the twenty‐ four‐hour news channels and the Internet, a first lady’s absence from Washington was less noticeable, and President Kennedy often invited his mother or one of his sisters to sub­ stitute as White House hostess. In some ways, the first lady’s frequent absences actually worked to Kennedy’s political advantage. When the elusive first lady did appear at the president’s side, that was a guaranteed media event that ensured favorable publicity. But when the first lady made an occasional misstep, such as being photographed in a ­ swimming suit cavorting with the jet set, the president quickly wired her his displeasure (Perry, 2004). Another of President Kennedy’s public relations concerns was his wife’s campaign to acquire and restore historic furnishings and artwork to the White House. She had been surprised during her orientation tour of the White House to find that it contained few objects of historical significance; and now she sought to rectify the situation. To  silence potential critics and to alleviate her husband’s concerns about the cost of her endeavor, the first lady carefully publicized

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that her restoration project would rely on sales of a White House guidebook and on private donations rather than on taxpayer dollars. She also emphasized that she was not simply “redecorating” the President’s House according to her own whims but was relying on an advisory committee and on professional curators to ensure historical accuracy and carefully catalogue and care for the artifacts that arrived at the White House. By September 1961 she was once again on the cover of Life, this time publicizing the progress of the White House restoration, and on Valentine’s Day 1962 network tele­ vision presented a groundbreaking program entitled A Tour of the White House with Mrs. John F. Kennedy. In it the first lady displayed the mansion’s restored public rooms, acknowledged individuals and museums that had donated or lent items to the pro­ ject, and discussed the history of particular rooms and objects. The program also pro­ vided her with an opportunity to share the names of the various artists, writers, and musicians she and the president had invited to the restored White House. Near the end of the broadcast, the president himself appeared and noted the importance of young people’s learning about American history at the White House, but the first lady remained the program’s acknowledged star (Abbott and Rice, 1998; Cassini, 1995; Bowles, 2001). Jacqueline Kennedy’s manner and appear­ ance in her televised tour of the White House may strike viewers of the twenty‐first century as stilted and overly formal, but viewers at the time responded enthusiasti­ cally to both the first lady and her White House project. Television critics praised the program and the first lady for promoting history and the arts, and the general public tuned in to the broadcast in large numbers. A few naysayers weighed in, such as writer Norman Mailer, who criticized her shy and whispery voice, but they were in the minority. With her television broadcast the first lady scored another public relations victory for

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the Kennedy White House, and also lent a major boost to the movement for historical preservation. As a result of her activities, Congress passed legislation preventing the indiscriminate sale or removal of historic White House artifacts in the future, and scholars agree that Jacqueline Kennedy’s restoration of the White House stands as one of her most significant accomplishments and legacies as first lady (Watson, 1994; Abbott and Rice, 1998). Far from being the political liability her husband’s advisors had predicted, Jacqueline Kennedy had become one of the president’s greatest assets. Her restoration of the White House had created an appropriately digni­ fied seat of power for the leader of the free world, and the elegant state dinners and stylish entertainments she organized for the refurbished mansion now made the White House a setting of cultural as well as politi­ cal importance. When they asked cellist Pablo Casals to play a concert at the White House or invited 49 Nobel laureates to the mansion for a celebration of scientific and literary achievement, the Kennedys pro­ jected an image of American confidence and sophistication on the Cold War stage. And outside the White House walls Jacqueline Kennedy used her intelligence, her person­ ality, and often her linguistic skills to win political goodwill for her husband—abroad and at home. Whether the first lady spoke Spanish in Bogota, Columbia, on a Latin American tour to promote her husband’s Alliance for Progress or Spanish in Miami, Florida, to rally veterans of the Bay of Pigs débacle, her talents frequently aided the Kennedy administration (Bowles, 2001). Creating Camelot Another major legacy of Jacqueline Kennedy’s years in the White House was her creation of the Camelot myth in the after­ math of her husband’s November 1963 assassination. Following the premature birth

and death of their son Patrick in August 1963, the president and first lady seemed to grow closer to each other in their shared grief. After taking time to ease her sorrow on a Mediterranean cruise with her sister Lee, the first lady returned to Washington with a desire to spend more time at her hus­ band’s side. In that spirit, she agreed to travel with him on a trip to Texas designed to shore up the president’s chances for win­ ning that state in his 1964 reelection bid. Native Texans Lyndon and Lady Bird Johnson joined the Kennedys on their tour of the Lone Star State, which included visits to several major cities and time spent with the state’s leading politicians. Crowds were large and enthusiastic at all the Kennedys’ stops, including in the city of Dallas, where the couple and their entourage arrived aboard Air Force One on November 22. Displaying none of her usual reluctance to campaign, the first lady, attired in a vivid pink suit, happily joined her husband to shake hands with members of the crowd who greeted them at the city’s Love Airfield. She and the president then joined Texas Governor John Connolly and his wife Nellie in an open limousine for a motorcade through the city’s downtown. Before the motorcade reached its destination, an assas­ sin’s bullet felled the president, and Jacqueline’s role as keeper of the Kennedy flame began (Manchester, 1967). Throughout the remainder of that day, Jacqueline Kennedy refused to change out of her now blood‐spattered pink suit, telling Lady Bird Johnson and others that she wanted people “to see what they have done to Jack” (Perry, 2004: 180). (Her use of the term “they” later helped fuel s­ peculation that a conspiracy of assassins had committed the murder rather than the lone gunman officially charged with the crime, Lee Harvey Oswald.) When Vice President Lyndon Johnson returned to Love Field and Air Force One to take the presidential oath of office, Jacqueline Kennedy stood stoically by his side before retiring to a seat near her



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husband’s body. On the flight back to Washington, she began planning her hus­ band’s funeral with an eye toward history. Instructing the White House staff to gather descriptions and pictures of Lincoln’s funeral, President Kennedy’s widow began the pro­ cess of connecting her husband’s brief time in office to that of the presidency of the nation’s most revered leader. In the next three days, mourning rituals at the White House and US Capitol, as well as the funeral procession to Kennedy’s resting place in Arlington Cemetery, closely resembled the observances surrounding Lincoln’s death (Manchester, 1967; Perry, 2004). During those three days, Americans developed a new reverence toward both the Kennedy presidency and its first lady. News photos of the blood‐stained widow standing bravely beside the new president as he took the oath aboard Air Force One and televised images of her composure during the cere­ monies for her late husband transformed Jacqueline Kennedy into a symbol of national grief and healing. The press uni­ formly praised her dignified behavior and credited the stately ceremonies she planned with easing the nation’s sadness and shame. Behind‐the‐scenes accounts that appeared later depicted the young widow as a nervous chain‐smoker, emotionally dependent on her brother‐in‐law Robert (“Bobby”) Kennedy; but the public preferred to embrace her regal public persona and placed the former first lady atop Gallup’s Most Admired Women Poll for the next several years (Manchester, 1967; Heymann, 2009; Shulman, 1970). A key factor in perpetuating an impeccable image of both the martyred president and his widow was an essay that journalist Theodore White published in Life shortly after the assassination. On the day after Thanksgiving in 1963, only a week after her husband’s death, Jacqueline Kennedy summoned White to the family compound at Hyannis Port to give him her version of the Kennedy presi­ dency. White, who had written a laudatory

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account of Kennedy’s presidential campaign in The Making of the President—1960 (pub­ lished in 1961), listened as the former first lady fretted that historians would not capture the “magic” of the Kennedy White House. Straining for a literary quotation to encapsu­ late her thoughts and feelings, the president’s widow fell back on Alan J. Lerner’s lyric from the 1960 Broadway musical Camelot: “Don’t let it be forgot, that once there was a spot, for one brief shining moment that was known as Camelot.” While Life editors in New York held the presses to make sure that White’s story made it into the magazine’s next edi­ tion, White and the president’s widow trans­ formed their rambling late‐night conversation into a brief essay that made a permanent mark on the public imagination. As White noted a decade and a half later, although his­ torically inaccurate, “the epitaph on the Kennedy administration became Camelot—a magic moment in American history, when gallant men danced with beautiful women, when great deeds were done, when artists, writers and poets met at the White House, and the barbarians beyond the walls held back” (White, 1978: 545). For the next several years, Jacqueline Kennedy carefully tended her late husband’s historical reputation and her own image, even as others sometimes challenged the decorous portrait she constructed. She per­ petually contended, for instance, with what author Irving Shulman called the “Jackie factories”—the cheap fan magazines that placed the former first lady on their covers more often than movie queen Elizabeth Taylor. Featuring constant coverage of where she traveled and relentless specula­ tion about whom she might be dating, the magazines created an image of Jacqueline Kennedy that was “a combination of ideal­ ized nymph and beautiful widow” (Shulman, 1970: 13). This type of press coverage con­ tributed to the untenable position she and her children encountered after vacating the White House in December 1963 to return to their old Georgetown neighborhood.

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As busloads of tourists invaded the area to catch a glimpse of the celebrity widow, Jacqueline Kennedy soon fled Washington for the greater anonymity of New York City in 1964 (Andersen, 1998). From her new home base in New York, Jacqueline worked with other members of the Kennedy family to safeguard the Camelot myth. After commissioning historian William Manchester to write an authorized history of the Kennedy assassination, for example, she and brother‐in‐law Bobby threatened legal action over the manuscript’s accurate por­ trayal of an acrimonious relationship between Bobby Kennedy and Lyndon Johnson. This careful tending of the Kennedy image enhanced the political careers of both Bobby and his younger brother Edward (“Teddy”) Kennedy. Edward, who had taken his brother Jack’s former US Senate seat in a 1962 special election, easily won reelection in 1964 and settled in for another forty‐five years of repre­ senting the people of Massachusetts. Bobby, who had served Jack as US attorney general, also won a senate seat in 1964 and used his new position as New York’s junior senator to situate himself for a possible presidential run in 1968 (Shulman, 1970; Andersen, 1998; Heymann, 2009). Another victor in the 1964 elections was Lyndon Johnson, who firmly secured the presidency in his own right by defeating republican Senator Barry Goldwater in a historic landslide. He did so, however, with­ out the assistance of his predecessor’s widow. He had tried capturing Jacqueline Kennedy’s star power for his own political purposes, and even proposed appointing her to an ambassadorship, but the former first lady resisted. She continued to guard her privacy jealously and limited her public appearances to those that burnished her husband’s memory. When she and her chil­ dren dedicated a monument to the late president in England or christened a new aircraft carrier in his name, the sitting presi­ dent could only envy the positive publicity they received. Johnson found the situation

particularly galling as his own popularity went into steep decline in the years following his decisive 1964 victory. When he ordered American bombers and then ground troops to Vietnam early in 1965, it was the begin­ ning of the end of his presidency. As opposi­ tion to his war policies increased, Johnson worried that Senator Robert Kennedy would challenge him for the democratic nomination in the next election, a fear that became a reality in March 1968. As Bobby Kennedy was now joining another “peace candidate” in the democratic race—Senator Eugene McCarthy of Minnesota—President Johnson announced to the American people on March 31, 1968, that he would not run for another term. Now Bobby was in and Johnson was out of the race, and many Americans hoped for a restoration of Camelot and wondered what role Jacqueline might play in a new Kennedy regime (Andersen, 1998). Jacqueline Kennedy’s main contribution to her brother‐in‐law’s 1968 presidential cam­ paign was using her well‐heeled connections to raise money for the cause. The campaign was, however, short‐lived. After declaring ­victory in California’s democratic primary in the early morning hours of June 5, 1968, Robert Kennedy left the podium at a Los Angeles hotel ballroom to meet the same fate as his brother Jack. Sirhan Sirhan, a young Palestinian angry about the senator’s support of Israel, fired at the presidential candidate with a revolver. The senator died the next day. Devastated by her brother‐in‐law’s death and no longer worried about the repercussions that her actions might have on his presidential campaign, Jacqueline Kennedy sought refuge overseas and married the Greek tycoon Aristotle Onassis that October. Twenty‐three years her senior, divorced, and with a few romantic and business scandals in his past, Onassis was an unpopular mate for the former first lady (Andersen, 1998). For the first time since 1962, Jacqueline Kennedy was not the nation’s most admired woman. Gallup’s results for 1968 showed Robert Kennedy’s



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widow, Ethel, topping the list, while the new Mrs. Onassis now ranked seventh (Shulman, 1970). From the time of her marriage to the shipping magnate Onassis until his death in 1975, the woman whom the popular press now referred to as “Jackie O” was a figure of controversy. The general public now viewed her largely as a jet‐setting celebrity rather than as a revered former first lady; and she kept the gossip magazines busy speculating on the status of her marriage, the particulars of her prenuptial a­rrangement with the tycoon, and the names of the nightclubs and fashion designers she favored. Although she and Onassis had homes all over the world, she continued to maintain her primary resi­ dence in New York City and to center her life around her children. After Onassis died and she successfully challenged his daughter Christina for a larger share of the estate, Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis remade herself yet again. The ­extraordinarily wealthy two‐ time widow now decided to take her life in a more serious direction and entered the New York publishing industry, working as an ­editor first at Viking and later at Doubleday. She also devoted herself to many of the activities that had occupied her White House years, including motherhood and historical preservation. The public admired her close relationship with her children Caroline and John Junior, who avoided the scandals, seri­ ous substance abuse, and other pitfalls that several of their Kennedy cousins endured, and noted her successful preservation efforts, which included saving New York’s Grand Central Terminal from the wrecking ball. She also worked diligently to burnish President Kennedy’s image, overseeing the establishment of his presidential library in 1979 and continuing to encourage the Camelot myth, even as evidence of Kennedy’s womanizing and other foibles became public during these years and eventually entered the history books (Andersen, 1998). In addition to sharing her life with her children—and, later, with her grandchildren

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from Caroline’s marriage to Edwin Schlossberg, a museum exhibit designer— Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis spent the last decade and a half of her life with diamond merchant Maurice Tempelsman. Although the two never married, Tempelsman was a devoted companion who shared her interests in the arts and was at her side through the final months of her life, as she sought treat­ ment for non‐Hodgkins lymphoma. She suc­ cumbed to the illness on May 19, 1994 and died at home in the Fifth Avenue apartment where she had resided for thirty years. She had maintained numerous identities during those three decades—wealthy jet setter, serious book editor, devoted mother and ­ companion—but in the end she remained President Kennedy’s first lady. Her last name was no longer Kennedy, but her final resting place was beside the thirty‐fifth president, under the eternal flame in Arlington National Cemetery (Andersen, 1998). Changing Assessments of Her Place in History During the first year of the Kennedy presi­ dency Mary Van Rensselaer Thayer, a family friend, published a brief biography of the new first lady (see Thayer, 1961) and a decade later, in 1971, she wrote one of the first lengthy explorations of Jacqueline Kennedy’s years in the White House. Granted access to a portion of the former first lady’s White House papers as well as to interviews with members of her White House staff, Thayer produced the authorized version of Jacqueline Kennedy’s time as first lady. She focused on the public accomplishments that the first lady and her press representatives had emphasized during the Kennedy administration, ­including Jacqueline Kennedy’s restoration of the White House, her sophisticated private parties and state dinners, her love of the arts, and her loving care of her husband and children. ­ Many of the events and anecdotes that Thayer presented in her book appeared later in other

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treatments of Jacqueline’s White House years—from sympathetic accounts in mem­ oirs by her mother‐in‐law Rose Kennedy and by White House Chief Usher J. B. West (Kennedy, 1974; West, 1973) to gossipy tell‐ all books that cashed in on her celebrity status (Kelley, 1978). These works also followed Thayer’s lead in downplaying any explicitly political role that the former first lady might have played in her husband’s administration. The first significant histories of the Kennedy presidency, most prominently Arthur Schlesinger Junior’s Pulitzer Prize‐ winning A Thousand Days (1965), likewise largely ignored Jacqueline’s political contri­ butions to her husband’s administration while at the same time lending credence to what was arguably her greatest political achieve­ ment—her characterization of the Kennedy White House as a latter‐day Camelot. Such positive assessments contributed to the viabil­ ity of Robert Kennedy’s 1968 presidential run and continued to affect public p ­ erceptions of the Kennedy family in general—even after Jacqueline’s controversial marriage to Onassis and Teddy’s notorious 1969 Chappaquiddick Island car wreck, in which a young woman died. Only in the mid‐1970s, when congres­ sional investigations of the CIA revealed that Jack Kennedy had maintained a rela­ tionship with a mafia‐connected mistress during his presidency, did the Camelot image begin to tarnish seriously. Revelations of his affairs with other women rapidly ­followed, and the late president soon joined his widow on the pages of the nation’s ­gossip magazines and tell‐all books. For the next two decades, a series of Kennedy family scandals—including the drug‐related death of one of the president’s nephews and the trial of another one on a rape charge—ended any hope that the Kennedys could maintain the type of image control they had once so successfully achieved. While Teddy Kennedy remained a prominent member of the US Senate, his hopes for the White House faded during this period in the aftermath of

Chappaquiddick, and also as a result of his failed attempt to wrest the democratic nom­ ination from President Jimmy Carter in 1980, problems with alcohol, and the f­ ailure of his marriage to first wife Joan (David, 1994; Leamer, 1994). As a result, by the time of Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis’s death in 1994, a number of damaging books and articles about the Kennedys had already appeared. Beginning with Kitty Kelley’s scathing biography of the former first lady— a book salaciously titled Jackie Oh! (Kelley, 1978)—and continuing with C. David Heymann’s A Woman Named Jackie, pub­ lished in 1989, unauthorized tell‐all books about the former first lady shot to the top of the best‐seller list, presenting the type of gossip that had previously only appeared in the tabloid “Jackie factories.” After her death in 1994 removed any com­ punction to spare the feelings or avoid the wrath of their subject, memoirists from her large extended family soon published works that cast further aspersions on Camelot’s first lady—as well as on her parents, her sister, her stepfather, and many of her Kennedy in‐laws. In addition to her cousin John Davis’s 1996 book, which focused on her life only up to the point of her marriage to Jack Kennedy, the celebrated author Gore Vidal—a member of Jacqueline’s Auchinchloss stepfamily— wrote a memoir that included vignettes from her years as a senator’s and president’s wife. In contrast to previous portrayals of her as publicity‐shy, Vidal remembered Jacqueline Kennedy as a woman who craved fame—on her own carefully controlled terms—almost as much as she did money. According to Vidal, she even contemplated becoming an actress but knew that her domineering father‐ in‐law would never allow it (Vidal, 1995). Often borrowing material from the Vidal and Davis memoirs, other writers examined closely the former first lady’s familial rela­ tionships. They investigated her c­ omplicated and sometimes strained interactions with her sister, her sisters‐in‐law, and her mother in books such as Dubois’s In Her Sister’s



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Shadow, published in 1995, Taraborrelli’s Jackie, Ethel, and Joan, published in 2000, and Pottker’s Janet and Jackie, published in 2001. In her 500‐page America’s Queen, biographer Sarah Bradford delved into Jacqueline’s complex relationships not only with female relatives—especially her mother‐ in‐law Rose—but with several male family members (see Bradford, 2000). In Grace and Power, her 600‐page study of the Kennedy White House inner circle, Sally Bedell Smith similarly explored the first lady’s multifaceted relations with various Bouviers, Auchinchlosses, and Kennedys while also discussing her complicated deal­ ings with her staff, family friends, and even a few of her husband’s mistresses (Smith, 2004). A few years later, C. David Heymann published yet another gossip‐drenched ­family tale: the exposé of an alleged affair between Jacqueline and her brother‐in‐law Bobby (Heymann, 2009). Some authors even uncovered problems in her apparently close relationship with her children. Following John F. Kennedy Junior’s death in a 1999 plane crash, Edward Klein exam­ ined “the Kennedy curse” in a book of this very title and dissected Jacqueline’s rela­ tionship with the son she had “loved … [but who had] also caused her a great deal of anguish and grief” (Klein, 2003: 207). In the decade and a half following her death, even authors who painted a generally positive portrait of Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis emphasized her celebrity and included gossip about her personal life. In  their celebratory accounts of her trend‐ setting wardrobe, both Oleg Cassini (1995) and Jay Mulvaney (2001) engaged in celeb­ rity name‐dropping and in a few backstage stories, and Mulvaney expanded on those elements one year later, when he published a book entitled Diana and Jackie that compared the triumphs, tribulations, and ­ legacies of the former first lady with those of another tabloid superstar—the late princess of Wales. What Irving Shulman had charac­ terized as unseemly and exploitative in 1970

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was the dominant narrative thirty years later. Even sympathetic authors treated President Kennedy’s widow largely as a dazzling celebrity whose dramatic personal life belonged in the public domain. In the first dozen years of the twenty‐first century, a handful of authors began to chal­ lenge that dominant narrative by providing more well‐rounded portraits of the former first lady. In Mrs. Kennedy, Barbara Leaming sought, as evidenced in her book’s subtitle, to find “the missing history of the Kennedy years” (Leaming, 2001). Pushing aside secondary sources and memoirs, Leaming ­ examined instead numerous letters, memos, meeting minutes, secret service and White House logs, and other primary documents to provide the first serious analysis of Jacqueline’s political contributions to the Kennedy presidency. Although Leaming acknowledged the seamier side of life in the Kennedy White House, including the presi­ dent’s infidelities and the first couple’s ­reliance on energy‐boosting drug injections from an ethically challenged physician, she portrayed the Kennedys as a successful polit­ ical team. She argued, largely on the basis of oral histories from Kennedy associates, that the couple’s complicated personal life helped motivate the first lady to play a larger role in her husband’s administration as a way to keep him invested in their marital relation­ ship. Leaming characterized the first lady as eager to boost the young president’s reputa­ tion as a statesman and suggested that her restoration of the White House was, in part, a conscious attempt to provide her husband with an appropriately distinguished setting for his accomplishments (Leaming, 2001). Leaming noted that, after her successful visits to Paris and Vienna in 1961, Jacqueline Kennedy continued to use the linguistic skills and knowledge of history that had impressed De Gaulle and Khrushchev to smooth over US diplomatic relations with other world leaders. Recognizing her hus­ band’s relative inexperience on the interna­ tional stage, the first lady worked diligently

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to assist him in projecting a stronger image as a world leader. Her extensive planning and sense of history resulted in an elaborate state dinner at Mount Vernon that won over the skeptical Pakistani president, Ayub Khan, and she nurtured that relationship through a carefully orchestrated solo visit to both Pakistan and India in the following year. The first lady’s polished interpersonal skills also helped cement a strong relation­ ship between President Kennedy and British Prime Minister Harold Macmillan. She functioned as the president’s recording sec­ retary when he held private discussions about the Nuclear Test Ban Treaty with British Ambassador David Ormsby‐Gore, and she served as a sounding board for her husband during the University of Mississippi integration crisis and the Cuban Missile Crisis (Leaming, 2001). On the heels of Leaming’s book, Barbara A. Perry published a meticulously researched scholarly study in 2004 that likewise por­ trayed Jacqueline Kennedy as a significant contributor to the Kennedy administration’s political success. Acknowledging but not dwelling on the strains in the Kennedys’ marriage, Perry documented Jacqueline’s role as her husband’s political partner even before their arrival in the White House. According to Perry, Jacqueline devoted sub­ stantial effort to her husband’s 1958 Senate reelection campaign and logged significant miles on the 1960 presidential campaign before her pregnancy with John Junior caused her to limit her schedule. Like Leaming, Perry noted that, once in the White House, Jacqueline was a successful goodwill ambassador abroad during the critical Cold War years of her husband’s presidency; in this connection, Perry cited Jacqueline’s triumphant visits to Paris, Vienna, and the Indian subcontinent, as well as the Latin American tour with the president in which she showcased her Spanish language skills. Perry also devoted considerable attention to Jacqueline’s efforts to restore the White House and

preserve the historical integrity of nearby Lafayette Square, noting that she elevated the significance of the White House as the seat of American power and paved the way for subsequent first ladies to take on their own high‐profile public service projects. Jacqueline Kennedy was not the first presi­ dential spouse to take on a public cause, but the publicity surrounding her restoration of the White House ensured that public service would virtually become part of the first lady’s job description (Perry, 2004). In 2011, to commemorate the fiftieth anniversary of the Kennedy presidency, Caroline Kennedy, the first couple’s only ­surviving offspring, authorized release of the sound recordings and transcripts of interviews that Arthur Schlesinger Junior conducted with her mother in 1964 as he prepared to write A Thousand Days. With an introduction and annotations by presidential historian Michael Beschloss, the published transcripts buttress Leaming’s and Perry’s portraits of a first lady more involved in her husband’s political career and presidential administra­ tion than earlier accounts of the Kennedy presidency had suggested. In particular, as Jacqueline Kennedy discusses her behind‐the‐ scenes conversations with her husband, the interviews highlight her role as a sounding board for the president as he mulled over strategies and solutions to political and policy problems. The interviews also reveal a woman very much of her time, often highly critical of other women she found insufficiently femi­ nine and consistently portraying herself as an adoring helpmate to her husband. Most obvi­ ously, the interviews expose a woman who had thoroughly adopted her role as keeper of the Kennedy flame. Her descriptions of her husband are unfailingly positive, and in her telling all other politicians and world leaders suffer in comparison to the late president. The woman who emerges from the Schlesinger interviews was clearly burnishing the Kennedy mystique, thus paving the way for the family’s future political success as her brothers‐in‐law and their children and



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grandchildren followed careers in electoral politics and public service and her daughter Caroline went on to serve President Barack Obama as ambassador to Japan. As noted in Beschloss’s introduction to the volume, “among the First Ladies of the twentieth cen­ tury, probably only Eleanor Roosevelt had a greater impact on the Americans of her time” (Kennedy, 2011: xxvi). Conclusion In one of the first serious assessments of Jacqueline Kennedy’s place in American culture and history, Irving Shulman, like ­ Michael Beschloss, compared her impact to that of Eleanor Roosevelt. Arguing that first ladies were typically “stripped of all impor­ tance” once their husbands were no longer in office, Shulman noted: “History has proved this true in the case of … all first ladies with the exception of two: Eleanor Roosevelt and Jacqueline Kennedy. Mrs. Roosevelt made news to the very last day of her life. John Kennedy’s widow will certainly do the same” (Shulman, 1970: 15). Shulman’s prediction was accurate. Kennedy’s widow lived another twenty‐four years after he wrote his assessment, and she never stopped making the news. As a some­ times controversial, jet‐setting celebrity who eschewed press interviews and other inva­ sions of her privacy, Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis remained a largely unwilling subject of public scrutiny. When the need arose for her to use her celebrity in order to ­champion the arts, historical preservation, or President Kennedy’s historical legacy, however, she did not hesitate to do so. Had Shulman written his appraisal forty years later, Hillary Clinton would certainly be included among the rare first ladies who continued to make the headlines after they left the White House. While scholars recog­ nize the obvious parts that Hillary Clinton and Eleanor Roosevelt played in American politics both during and after their years as

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first lady, they have only recently acknowl­ edged Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis as a political player. Unlike the other two women, she did not weigh in on or help for­ mulate policy during her husband’s presi­ dency, nor did she later serve the nation at the United Nations (as Eleanor Roosevelt did) or in the US Senate and state depart­ ment (as Hillary Clinton did). Instead, both during and after her years in the White House, Jacqueline wielded political influ­ ence through more informal channels, enhancing the power of the Cold War presi­ dency both as a goodwill ambassador abroad and as a protector of the White House as the symbolic seat of American power at home. And, by continuing to celebrate the Camelot version of her late husband’s brief presidency, she arguably maintained a polit­ ical role as a former first lady, helping sus­ tain the Kennedy political dynasty into the twenty‐first century. Jacqueline Kennedy thus ultimately fulfilled the requirements for all main popular categories of American first ladies: she was a celebrity, a reluctant first lady, a controversial first lady, and a political partner. References Abbott, J. A., and E. M. Rice. 1998. Designing Camelot: The Kennedy White House Restoration. New York: Van Nostrand Reinhold. Allgor, C. 2006. “Political Parties: First Ladies and Social Events in the Formation of the Federal Government.” In The Presidential Companion: Readings on the First Ladies, 2nd edn., edited by R. P. Watson and A. J. Eksterowicz, 35–53. Columbia: University of South Carolina Press. Andersen, C. 1996. Jack and Jackie: Portrait of an American Marriage. New York: William Morrow. Andersen, C. 1998. Jackie after Jack: Portrait of the Lady. New York: William Morrow. Andersen, C. 2013. These Few Precious Days: The Final Year of Jack and Jackie. New York: Gallery Books. Benze, J. G., Jr. 2001. “Nancy (Anne Frances Robbins Davis) Reagan.” In American First

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Ladies: Their Lives and Their Legacy, 2nd edn., edited by L. L. Gould, 393–408. New York: Routledge. Bowles, H., ed. 2001. Jacqueline Kennedy: The White House Years: Selections from the John F. Kennedy Library and Museum. Boston: Bulfinch Press. Bradford, S. 2000. America’s Queen: The Life of Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis. New York: Viking. Breitzer, S. R. 2006. “Eleanor Roosevelt: An Unlikely Path to Political Activist.” In The Presidential Companion: Readings on the First Ladies, 2nd edn., edited by R. P. Watson and A. J. Eksterowicz, 150–168. Columbia: University of South Carolina Press. Cassini, O. 1995. A Thousand Days of Magic: Dressing Jacqueline Kennedy for the White House. New York: Rizzoli International. David, L. 1994. Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis: A Portrait of Her Private Years. New York: Birch Lane Press. Davis, J. 1996. Jacqueline Bouvier: An Intimate Memoir. New York: John Wiley & Sons, Inc. Gould, L. L. 2001. American First Ladies: Their Lives and Their Legacy, 2nd edn. New York: Routledge. Gutin, M. G. 2006. “Hillary’s Choices: The First Ladyship of Hillary Rodham Clinton and the Future of the Office.” In The Presidential Companion: Readings on the First Ladies, 2nd edn., edited by R. P. Watson and A. J. Eksterowicz, 273–288. Columbia: University of South Carolina Press. Heymann, C. D. 2009. Bobby and Jackie: A Love Story. New York: Atria Books. Jellison, K. 2008. It’s Our Day: America’s Love Affair with the White Wedding, 1945–2005. Lawrence: University Press of Kansas. Kelley, K. 1978. Jackie Oh! Secaucus, NJ: L. Stuart. Kennedy, J. 2011. Historic Conversations on Life with John F. Kennedy. New York: Hyperion. Kennedy, R. F. 1974. Times to Remember. Garden City, NY: Doubleday. Klein, E. 1996. All Too Human: The Love Story of Jack and Jackie Kennedy. New York: Pocket Books. Klein, E. 2003. The Kennedy Curse: Why America’s First Family Has Been Haunted by Tragedy for 150 Years. New York: St. Martin’s Press.

Leamer, L. 1994. The Kennedy Women: The Saga of an American Family. New York: Villard Books. Leaming, B. 2001. Mrs. Kennedy: The Missing History of the Kennedy Years. New York: Free Press. Manchester, W. 1967. The Death of a President: November 20–November 25, 1963. New York: Harper & Row. Mayo, E. P., and L. K. Graddy. 2004. First Ladies: Political Role and Public Image. London: Scala Publishers. Mulvaney, J. 2001. Jackie: The Clothes of Camelot. New York: St. Martin’s Press. Pastan, A. 2009. First Ladies. London: Dorling Kindersley. Perry, B. A. 2004. Jacqueline Kennedy: First Lady of the New Frontier. Lawrence: University Press of Kansas. Schlesinger, A. M., Jr. 1965. A Thousand Days: John F. Kennedy in the White House. Boston: Houghton Mifflin. Shulman, I. 1970. “Jackie”! The Exploitation of a First Lady. New York: Trident Press. Smith, S. B. 2004. Grace and Power: The Private World of the Kennedy White House. New York: Random House. Suero, O., and A. Garside. 2001. Camelot at Dawn: Jacqueline and John Kennedy in Georgetown, May 1954. Baltimore, MD: Johns Hopkins University Press. Thayer, M. V. R. 1961. Jacqueline Bouvier Kennedy. New York: Doubleday. Thayer, M. V. R. 1971. Jacqueline Kennedy: The White House Years. Boston: Little, Brown. Vidal, G. 1995. Palimpsest: A Memoir. New York: Random House. Watson, M. A. 1994. The Expanding Vista: American Television in the Kennedy Years. Durham, NC: Duke University Press. Watson, R. P., and A. J. Eksterowicz. 2006. The Presidential Companion: Readings on the First Ladies, 2nd edn. Columbia: University of South Carolina Press. West, J. B., with M. L. Kotz. 1973. Upstairs at the White House: My Life with the First Ladies. New York: Coward, McCann & Geoghegan. White, T. H. 1978. In Search of History: A Personal Adventure. New York: Harper & Row.

Chapter Thirty

Lady Bird Johnson Lisa M. Burns

Lady Bird Johnson led a full and active life. She was a supportive wife who provided counsel to her husband as he rose through the political ranks. Like many women of her era, she was a mother and a homemaker, raising two daughters, Lynda and Luci, and maintaining homes in DC and Texas, where she entertained her husband’s many politi­ cal colleagues. But she also worked outside of the home, running her husband’s con­ gressional office during World War II and buying a failing Texas radio station that, through her business savvy, she turned into a multimillion‐dollar media business that helped build the family’s fortune (Gillette, 2012: 123, 147). She was an effective sur­ rogate for her husband, promoting his Great Society programs and tirelessly campaigning for him during the 1960 and 1964 races (Caroli, 1995: 236–237). Throughout her life she was a vocal advocate for environ­ mental issues. She is best remembered for her beautification efforts, which can still be seen in Washington, DC, in Austin, Texas, and along thousands of miles of highways across the United States (Gould, 1999: 109). During her White House tenure Lady Bird was the most active first lady since Eleanor Roosevelt. She continues to rate as one of the most influential first ladies in US history.

Claudia Alta Taylor was born on December 22, 1912 in Karnack, a rural northeastern Texas town on the banks of Caddo Lake known for its lush pine groves. According to an often repeated anecdote, the nickname “Lady Bird” came from her African American nursemaid, Alice Tittle, who declared that the baby girl was as “purty as a lady bird.” But the former first lady admitted to oral historian Michael L. Gillette that the nickname was actually given to her by two black childhood playmates. However, it was “later deemed more respectable to assign credit to the nurse and thereby avoid the impression of interracial socialization,” which reflects the segregated South in which Lady Bird was raised (Gillette, 2012: 8). During her youth, Lady Bird spent many hours on her own, reading or exploring the wilderness in her own back­ yard (Gillette, 2012: 14). Her mother died when she was just five years old, leaving her to be raised by her father, a wealthy business owner who did not have much time for his young daughter, and by her sickly aunt Effie, who encouraged her niece to use edu­ cation as a means to get out of East Texas and see the world (Gould, 1999: 1–2). Taking her aunt’s advice, Bird Taylor (as her friends called her) attended the University of Texas at Austin, where she earned

A Companion to First Ladies, First Edition. Edited by Katherine A. S. Sibley. © 2016 John Wiley & Sons, Inc. Published 2016 by John Wiley & Sons, Inc.

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bachelor’s degrees in history and journalism as well as a teaching certificate. She was interested in politics, often attending legis­ lative sessions at the Texas State Capitol in downtown Austin (Gillette, 2012: 42). When the twenty‐one‐year‐old graduated cum laude in June 1934, she wanted either to work as a reporter in New York or Washington or to teach in an exotic location like Hawaii or Alaska (Russell, 1999: 16). But in August 1934 she met Lyndon Baines Johnson, who was working as secretary to a Texas congressman, and her plans changed. He proposed during their second meeting; their whirlwind courtship led to marriage less than three months later, on November 17, 1934 (Gould, 1999: 6–7). Being mar­ ried to a politically ambitious spouse would take Lady Bird to Washington, DC and around the world before returning her to Austin, where she would reside until her death on July 11, 2007 at the age of ninety‐four. Because of her almost constant activity, Lady Bird garnered a great deal of press cov­ erage during her time as first lady. The newspaper and magazine articles included in this chapter offer a glimpse into how Lady Bird was portrayed by journalists. Since then, she has attracted a fair amount of attention from biographers and scholars. A handful of biographies have been written about Lady Bird’s life. The earliest books, which appeared just after she entered the White House, were penned by journalists who had covered the Johnsons; they were based largely on interviews with family, friends, and associates. More recent works rely on the wealth of archival resources available at the Lyndon Baines Johnson ­ Presidential Library and Museum in Austin. Lady Bird is also referenced, to varying degrees, in biographies written about her husband and in memoirs authored by col­ leagues. Arguably the best source on Lady Bird’s White House years is her own A White House Diary (Johnson, 1970), which was based on the audio journal she recorded

almost daily. During her later years she wrote two books related to her conservation work. The growing interest in and research on first ladies have recently caused a number of book chapters and journal articles to focus on Lady Bird’s accomplishments dur­ ing her White House years. The various arti­ cles and books written about Lady Bird tend to highlight three themes: her relationship with her husband, Lyndon Baines Johnson; her advocacy for him and his programs; and her work on environmental issues. This chapter reviews journalists’ and scholars’ assessments of Lady Bird’s life and legacy. Political Partner Following John F. Kennedy’s assassination, Lady Bird told a friend: “I feel as if I am suddenly on stage for a part I never rehearsed.” This quotation frequently appears in articles and books about Lady Bird. However, many journalists and schol­ ars have argued that, as a Washington polit­ ical wife who served as a hostess, advisor, and campaigner for her husband, she was better prepared than most for the position of first lady (Beasley, 2005: 90). The earliest press coverage of Lady Bird offered the public biographical details about the new first lady and described her relation­ ship with her husband. A 1963 US News & World Report article described her as “a vital force in her husband’s career,” pointing out that she financed Lyndon Johnson’s first campaign with a $10,000 inheritance and ran his congressional office while he served in World War II (“‘Lady Bird’ Johnson: The New First Lady,” 1963). Good Housekeeping’s Ruth Montgomery observed that Lady Bird was “not only as a devoted wife and mother, but also as a canny business executive and a seasoned political trouper” (Montgomery, 1964b). Similarly, Time magazine noted that Lady Bird “runs her own million‐dollar businesses” and was responsible for building the Johnsons’ family fortune, which made



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her one of the first businesswomen in the White House (“The New First Lady,” 1963). Her approach to the position drew comparisons to another highly active holder of the post: US News & World Report pro­ claimed that Lady Bird was “setting a pace as first lady that hasn’t been matched since Eleanor Roosevelt’s day” (“With Lady Bird in the White House,” 1965). Similarly, McCall’s stated that Johnson was “clearly more steeped in practical politics than any first lady, except perhaps Eleanor Roosevelt in her later years. … when Mrs. Johnson says she plans to help her husband in every way possible, she is uttering no platitude” (Sadler 1964: 188). It was clear from the beginning that Lady Bird’s role as an active political partner would differentiate her from predecessor, Jacqueline Kennedy. Newsweek’s cover story for December 28, 1964 contrasted the two women, claiming that Jacqueline “was an elusive, private being, mysteriously separate from the president,” while Lady Bird was “part and parcel of Lyndon B. Johnson, a pulsing presence in his administration. … The President needs her viewpoints on leg­ islative matters” (“LBJ’s LBJ: First Lady of the Land,” 1964). A US News & World Report article also highlighted the differ­ ences between Lady Bird, an “active helper on politics, policies, problems,” and her young predecessor, who represented “style and glamour” but was viewed by the press as being less politically active (“With Lady Bird in the White House,” 1965). In the intervening years scholars have reassessed Jackie Kennedy’s contributions, finding a more discernible if informal influence (see Chapter 29 in this book). Two of the earliest biographies of Lady Bird were written by Washington‐based journalists who covered the Johnsons and were also part of their social circle. These books detailed the couple’s political part­ nership. Ruth Montgomery’s (1964a) Mrs. LBJ and Marie Smith’s (1964) The President’s Lady: An Intimate Biography of

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Mrs. Lyndon B. Johnson were based on detailed interviews with the Johnsons and their family, friends, and associates. These books are rich in oral histories that trace Lady Bird’s life leading up to her first few months in the White House. Both Montgomery, a syndicated columnist for United Press International and Hearst pub­ lications, and Smith, a Washington Post reporter, had the advantage of having cov­ ered the Johnsons during their vice presi­ dential years. These biographies provide detailed accounts of the role Lady Bird played during the 1960 campaign, her fre­ quent stand‐ins for Jacqueline Kennedy as “second lady,” and her world travels as the vice president’s wife—accounts based largely on the reporting that Montgomery and Smith did for their respective publications. This infuses into their accounts a level of detail that is sometimes lacking from more recent research, which is based on second­ hand accounts of such events. Also, Lady Bird’s experience during the vice presiden­ tial years is often overshadowed by her activ­ ities as first lady in books that were written after her White House tenure. Another aspect that makes these biogra­ phies unique, especially by comparison with more recent accounts of Lady Bird’s life, is their inclusion of Lyndon Johnson’s com­ ments on his wife. Both Montgomery and Smith interviewed Lyndon Johnson for their book projects, and in each case he noted the important role his wife played in supporting his career, from campaigning for votes to offering criticism on his speeches and providing counsel on important career decisions. Lyndon Johnson describes Lady Bird as both a supportive wife and an active political partner who was influential in get­ ting him to the presidency. In recent years, scholars have attempted to assess the extent of Lady Bird’s influence on her husband. These early interviews make it clear that Lyndon Johnson recognized his wife as an integral part of his political success as well as of his personal happiness. Both books are

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engaging tales that offer readers a glimpse into Lady Bird’s life. Jan Jarboe Russell’s (1999) Lady Bird: A Biography of Mrs. Johnson is the most thor­ ough account of Lady Bird’s life to date. It delves into the complex relationship between Lady Bird and her husband. Like her journal­ istic predecessors, Russell, a contributing edi­ tor at the Texas Monthly magazine, based her work primarily on interviews, oral histories, and Lady Bird’s personal papers. Russell con­ ducted 77 interviews and met with some par­ ticipants— including Lady Bird herself—for several hours and on multiple occasions. She also drew material from 76 oral histories. The result is the most personal version of Lady Bird’s story yet, which includes information barely mentioned in or completely omitted from other works, like the details of Lyndon Johnson’s alleged affairs or Lady Bird’s rela­ tionship with daughters Lynda and Luci, which was sometimes strained because of her intense focus on her husband’s needs and on her own public duties. Russell noted in her Introduction that Lady Bird abruptly ended their series of interviews, which had taken place over a three‐year period, after Russell asked questions about Lyndon Johnson’s relationships with other women. In her letter to Russell, Lady Bird said that she was end­ ing the interviews because “[y]our conclu­ sion about me may well come at Lyndon’s expense” (Russell, 1999: 13). Fortunately Russell had gathered enough material from their previous meetings to provide a thor­ ough account. But Lady Bird’s reaction to the probing of her personal life is just as tell­ ing as the information she willingly shared with Russell: her concern about her hus­ band’s legacy and public image was always foremost in her mind. Russell’s thorough research saves the book from falling into the category of a “tell‐all” that gives salacious details simply for the sake of sales. Her biog­ raphy paints the most complete and complex picture yet of Lady Bird’s public and private life and of the unique partnership she shared with her husband.

The Johnsons’ political partnership is also reflected in Lady Bird’s own words. In the opening pages of Lady Bird Johnson: An Oral History, Michael L. Gillette, its author, stated that Lady Bird chose to “adjust her life” to her husband’s and to “become an active participant in his world of politics.” He observed: “Lady Bird’s influence on her husband and his aspirations were as pro­ found as his influence on her. Their lives were so intertwined that it is impossible to assess one without the other” (Gillette, 2012: 5). Similarly, their personal lives were so intertwined with politics that it is impos­ sible to separate the two. The book is based on 47 oral history interviews conducted with Lady Bird over an eighteen‐year period. Almost all of her recollections of the people, places, and events that shaped their lives are tied to Lyndon Johnson’s political career. When asked directly about her role as presi­ dential advisor, Lady Bird said: “I had judg­ ments and I gave them, but I didn’t push them or demand them or say they were surefire. … So he sought my judgment. I’m very proud that he did” (quoted in Gillette, 2012: 369). She offered one very specific example of an occasion when he followed his advice: One of the few times I was just darned positive what Lyndon ought to do was that he ought to run in August of 1964, and that he ought not to run four years later. That was a firm conviction from which I never did waver. … That is the way that it actually did turn out, and I think it was the best way for it to turn out. (Quoted in Gillette, 2012: 369)

Lady Bird summed up their relationship by saying, “I think he valued my judgment and I know we were better together than we were apart” (quoted in Gillette, 2012: 371). Lady Bird also discussed her advisory role in A White House Diary (1970), which stands as the most detailed accounting of day‐to‐day life in the White House availa­ ble. She kept an audio diary that traced her



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tenure as first lady, starting with her recol­ lection of President Kennedy’s assassina­ tion on November 22, 1963 and ending with Richard Nixon’s inauguration on January 20, 1969, and in it she recorded her thoughts almost daily. Unlike other first lady memoirs, Lady Bird’s diary is dis­ tinctive because it captures her experiences as they happened, as opposed to being rec­ ollected and repackaged after her tenure. At times, she detailed the surprisingly mun­ dane nature of daily life, even in the White House. In other cases, like that of her dis­ cussion of her husband’s legislative accom­ plishments, she provided an eyewitness account to important historical events. The diary is both personal and political. She offered insight into her husband’s person­ ality and into the strains of raising a family in the public eye. But she also advocated for causes like conservation and programs like Head Start, discussed her experiences on the campaign trail, and offered her own take on her husband’s political allies and rivals, including Bobby Kennedy and Barry Goldwater. Yet, helpful as it is, the pub­ lished diary still reflects only a selective portion of her daily writings. Many of the biographies written about Lyndon Johnson include references to Lady Bird. While early biographies treat her merely as a supportive wife and hostess, other studies examine her influence on her husband’s career. In Lyndon Johnson’s (1971) lengthy autobiography titled The Vantage Point: Perspectives on the Presidency, 1963–1969, he mentions his wife on just 52 pages, and most are references to her accom­ panying him on trips or at events. But a notable exception is his discussion of the role she played in his decisions to run for office in 1964 and to not seek reelection in 1968, as noted above. Lyndon Johnson included a memo from his wife written in May 1964, where she outlined the pros and cons of running for president and concluded by encouraging him to run (Johnson, 1971: 93–94). He referred to this same memo

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when he reflected on his decision not to run again in 1968, and he credited her with offering March as the right time to make the announcement that he would not seek ree­ lection (1971: 430–431). While this evi­ dences the advisory role that Lady Bird played out of the public eye as well as her prescience, there is little else in Lyndon Johnson’s book that is related to his rela­ tionship with his wife. Later biographers, whose work is based largely on archival materials, pay more atten­ tion to the role Lady Bird played behind the scenes. Robert Caro’s three‐volume series The Years of Lyndon Johnson (1982, 1994, 2002) includes numerous references to Lady Bird as he traces Lyndon Johnson’s personal and political life. Robert Dallek credits her with being an influential figure in Lyndon Johnson’s rise to power in Lone Star Rising: Lyndon Johnson and His Times, 1908–1960 (Dallek, 1992) and assesses her importance as a confidante and calming influence in a follow‐up titled Flawed Giant: Lyndon Johnson and His Times, 1961–1973 (Dallek, 1999). In LBJ’s Texas White House: Our Heart’s Home, Hal K. Rothman (2001) concentrates on Lady Bird’s deft combina­ tion of politicking and socializing. Michael Beschloss’s edited and annotated collection of Lyndon Johnson’s White House tapes is one of the most insightful works available on the Johnsons’ political life. The two volumes, Taking Charge: The Johnson White House Tapes, 1963–1964 (Beschloss, 1998) and Reaching for Glory: Lyndon Johnson’s Secret White House Tapes, 1964–1965 (Beschloss, 2002), detail numer­ ous conversations recorded in the Oval Office. Those featuring Lady Bird illumi­ nate the important advisory role she played. For example, Taking Charge presents the new first lady as counseling her husband on the best way to integrate his people with the Kennedy “leftovers” (Beschloss, 1998: 279, 283), discussing campaign strategy such as her whistle‐stop tour (1998: 532–534, 281–282), and critiquing Lyndon Johnson’s

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performance during a major televised press conference, to which she gave the grade of “B plus” (1998: 272–274). In Reaching for Glory readers see her in the role of con­ cerned spouse in the numerous conversa­ tions regarding Lyndon Johnson’s health and work habits, but there are also discus­ sions where Lyndon Johnson shares his concerns over the escalating war in Vietnam and others where Lady Bird critiques her husband’s speeches on various topics. The C‐SPAN series “First Ladies Influence & Image” also featured some of these record­ ings in its episode on Lady Bird (C‐SPAN, 2013). The transcripts of conversations and the actual recordings, available at the Johnson Presidential Library and on its website, highlight Lady Bird’s role as her husband’s trusted advisor. Lady Bird’s advisory role is also explored in the growing body of scholarship on first ladies. One of the early academic studies of presidents’ wives, Myra Gutin’s (1989) The President’s Partner: The First Lady in the Twentieth Century, grouped first ladies into one of three categories on the basis of their communication activities during their ten­ ure. Lady Bird fell into the category of political surrogate and independent advo­ cate. Gutin details this first lady’s advisory role—specifically how she reviewed her hus­ band’s speeches, her active campaigning, her promotion of Great Society programs and beautification, and her role in policy­ making—and concludes that Lady Bird was an active political partner both behind the scenes and in public. A more detailed account of Lady Bird’s rhetoric is provided by Diana B. Carlin’s (2004) chapter “Lady Bird Johnson: The Making of a Public First Lady with Private Influence.” Carlin offers one of the most complete treatments of Johnson’s campaigning efforts from 1948 through 1960, noting how that experience “made her one of the best‐prepared presi­ dential partners” (Carlin 2004: 273). Along with examining Lady Bird’s own speeches, Carlin also looks at the role Lady Bird played

in preparing her husband’s speeches and in critiquing his performances after each pres­ entation; and she draws on archival materi­ als, for example numerous speech drafts that carry Lady Bird’s handwritten comments and edits. Like Gutin, Carlin concludes that Lady Bird was one of Lyndon Johnson’s most trusted political advisors. Several recent works focus on the presi­ dential couples’ political partnership, partic­ ularly the blurring of their public and private lives. In First Ladies: The Saga of the President’s Wives and Their Power, Carl Sferrazza Anthony explains how Lady Bird “kept close tabs on how congressmen and senators stood on all issues” and often used social gatherings as a way to gather this information (Anthony, 1991: 115). Since Lyndon Johnson frequently brought his work home with him, Lady Bird was “there for talks on the economy, racial strife, inter­ national treaties, or Vietnam” (1991: 114). Anthony points out that even Lyndon Johnson’s top advisors recognized Lady Bird’s advisory role; and he quotes Special Assistant and Counselor Harry McPherson saying that Lyndon Johnson “trusted her advice” and Vice President Hubert Humphrey noting that she was one of the only people who “made him come to heel” (1991: 116). Meanwhile, Lady Bird’s press secretary Liz Carpenter (1970: 116) called her the president’s “eyes, ears, reporter and supporter.” Gil Troy offers a similar assess­ ment of the Johnsons’ political partnership in Mr. and Mrs. President: From the Trumans to the Clintons. He characterizes the Johnsons as an “activist presidential couple” who took pride in their partnership (Troy, 2000: 134). Troy notes that Lyndon Johnson wanted his wife to “use her ‘power’ as First Lady and ‘not fritter it away’” (2000: 152). This made her “one of the most influential of all First Ladies” (2000: 152). In Hidden Power: Presidential Marriages That Shaped Our Recent History, Kati Marton claims that the Johnsons’ partnership was successful because “Lady Bird’s steady presence enabled him to



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perform to his fullest capacity” (Marton, 2001: 138). By focusing on the roles played by first ladies in their husbands’ careers, these works bring a perspective to presiden­ tial studies that had long been overlooked. This is particularly important in the case of Lyndon Johnson, who relied on his wife’s advice and on her active support of his politi­ cal career. Presidential Surrogate Lady Bird viewed the first lady position as a “daily working job” and considered “advancement of the President’s programs” one of her primary duties (Anthony, 1991: 110). In an interview with historian Carl Sferrazza Anthony, she explained her inter­ pretation of the role: he is elected, and they are there as a team. And it’s much more appropriate for her to work on projects that are part of his Administration, a part of his aims and hopes for America. Time will pass, and she’ll get around to hers later on! (Anthony, 1991: 109)

This is exactly the approach that Lady Bird took to being first lady. Shortly after entering the White House, she began trave­ ling around the country to promote Lyndon Johnson’s Great Society programs, which earned her the nickname “Saleslady for the ‘Great Society’” from one media outlet. In 1964 she played a crucial role in the presi­ dential campaign with her solo whistle‐stop tour through southern states in the wake of the passage of the Civil Rights Act. It wasn’t until Lyndon Johnson’s second term that she would turn her attention to her own interests in promoting conservation, which was still tied to her husband’s environmental legislative agenda. Much of the scholarship on Lady Bird credits her with being a suc­ cessful presidential surrogate. Her success was due in large part to her understanding of

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press relations and to her ability to use the media so as to get her message out. Not sur­ prisingly, it is her press secretary’s memoir and the media coverage of these trips that offer the most insight into her role as a spokesperson and stand‐in for her husband. One of the first things that Lady Bird did as first lady was to hire veteran newspaper reporter Liz Carpenter to be her press secre­ tary and chief of staff. In 1960, Carpenter left her reporting job to work on the Kennedy–Johnson campaign, serving as Lyndon Johnson’s press spokeswoman. She continued to serve in a similar position in the White House, becoming the first female executive assistant to a vice president, and she also worked for Lady Bird. Her memoir, Ruffles and Flourishes (Carpenter, 1970), offers one of the most comprehensive accounts of Lady Bird’s work on behalf of her husband’s administration as well as insight into Lady Bird’s press relations. Carpenter recalled asking Lady Bird for the press secretary job in December 1963. Her response when Lady Bird hired her was one of elation: I was delighted, for in my 16 years as a reporter in Washington I had always been disappointed that no first lady had ever named a professional newswoman as her press secretary. Instead, the duty had been left to just a secretary, who had little or no conception of the requirements of the news media. (Carpenter, 1970: 112)

With Carpenter as her guide, Lady Bird established a working relationship with the first lady press corps that resulted in exten­ sive—and largely positive—coverage during her tenure. Lady Bird described her rela­ tionship with the primarily female press corps as follows: I wanted to accommodate them as much as I could. I felt like I saw more of them than nearly anybody. I knew a great many of them personally and liked them. And

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I think I got better than I deserved from the press in general. … I tried to be avail­ able and I tried to remember their duties. (Quoted in Gillette, 2012: 352)

Carpenter said in her memoir that, thanks to her journalism training, Lady Bird under­ stood reporters’ needs because “she knew the language of the trade, the difference between an A.M. and P.M. deadline, that it is better to be accessible than evasive.” Carpenter also claimed that the press corps appreciated having “a working First Lady, not an ornamental one” because it improved their beat (Carpenter, 1970: 115). The result was hundreds of newspaper and mag­ azine articles chronicling Lady Bird’s first lady tenure—an action that made it one of the best documented first ladyships in his­ tory. These articles, some of which are refer­ enced in this chapter, provide scholars with a rich documentary record to explore. While Lady Bird’s media coverage is often used as supporting material in biographies, there are two books that focus on the press coverage of first ladies: Maurine H. Beasley’s (2005) First Ladies and the Press: The Unfinished Partnership of the Media Age and my own First Ladies and the Fourth Estate: Press Framing of Presidential Wives (Burns, 2008). Both works claim that Lady Bird’s understanding of journalism, and her hiring of Liz Carpenter as press secretary, helped her build a good working relationship with reporters. Beasley points out that “reporters received a never‐ending supply of news that presented the first lady doing far more than simply pouring tea” and that much of the material was “made to order for newspaper women’s pages as they were being trans­ formed into cultural/lifestyle sections, as well as for women’s magazines” (Beasley, 2005, 107). In my work I note that Lady Bird was positively compared to Eleanor Roosevelt for being an “active” first lady and I argue that this favorable press cover­ age helped pave the way for the other “activ­ ist” first ladies of that era: Betty Ford and

Rosalynn Carter. Both books conclude that Lady Bird helped expand the first lady’s role and reshape the relationship between presi­ dents’ wives and the media. During her White House years, Lady Bird maintained one of the busiest schedules of any first lady. In just five years, she made forty trips covering 200,000 miles, almost always accompanied by a press entourage (Beasley, 2005: 96). Many of her early trips were designed to highlight her husband’s Great Society programs. The most detailed, and often amusing, accounts of these trips are provided in Carpenter’s memoir. Both Carpenter and Lady Bird understood that the best way for the reporters to get to know the first lady and to get positive stories about the administration she covered was to plan trips with the press in mind. Carpenter’s office would select 35–85 reporters (depend­ ing on the trip) from a variety of newspapers, magazines, and TV networks (Carpenter, 1970: 76). Lady Bird made herself accessi­ ble, riding in the same planes, trains, and buses as the newswomen. Once in the field, according to Carpenter (1970: 126), Lady Bird would put her own journalistic educa­ tion to work, helping reporters “to get the story, asking the right questions of her hosts at the Head Start Center or the Park Ranger on a raft ride, and being sure that news­ women were within hearing range to get the point being made.” By taking reporters to “poverty‐pocket coal towns” in Pennsylvania and to run‐down schools in rural Appalachia, Lady Bird sought to put a human face on her husband’s “war on poverty” and to cham­ pion programs like Project Head Start. According to a January 1964 article by New York Times reporter Nan Robertson, Lady Bird viewed her role as one of going “behind the cold statistics to the human needs, prob­ lems, and hopes” of impoverished Americans (Robertson, 1964a), and thus as one of act­ ing as a human link between her husband’s programs and the people, much like Eleanor Roosevelt did for the New Deal. In a 1967 story, US News & World Report called her



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“the unofficial, unpaid ‘traveling saleslady’ for the President” (“Mrs. LBJ: Saleslady for ‘Great Society,’” 1967). On one trip, 71 reporters accompanied Lady Bird to Appalachia to see the work of the Teacher Corps, which provided teachers to schools in rural areas—a program close to the Lyndon Johnson’s heart, since his first job had been as a rural schoolteacher. Here’s how the March 1967 trip was described by US News & World Report: For three exhausting days, Mrs. Johnson and her party flew into big cities or bumped by bus, over mountain roads, into West Virginia, North Carolina, and Tennessee. At the same time, the party was moving, title by title, through some of the President’s favorite education legislation. In Charleston, WV, the group observed a program for handicapped children. In a remote moun­ tain township of North Carolina, it was the Teacher Corps, which was been under siege by Congressional critics. (“Mrs. LBJ: Saleslady for ‘Great Society,’” 1967)

The article goes on to say that the first lady is “regarded at the White House as ‘the Great Society’s best translator’ and a great help to the president. Mr. Johnson relies heavily on his wife’s reports of what she learns.” In her memoir, Carpenter recalls that Lady Bird went back to the White House and told Lyndon Johnson that “his Teacher Corps was helping to bridge the education gap in Appalachia. If she told him that, he knew he could count on it” (Carpenter, 1970: 84). Lady Bird’s advo­ cacy of her husband’s programs not only illustrates her importance as a presidential surrogate, but also further highlights the Johnsons’ political partnership. The first lady had become so adept at gar­ nering positive press coverage that members of her husband’s administration sought her public support for their programs. Most notably, Sargent Shriver, Special Assistant to Lyndon Johnson and architect of the “War

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on Poverty” programs, approached Lady Bird in January 1965 about becoming the honorary chairwoman of Operation Head Start, an educational program for under­ privileged preschool‐aged children. In A White House Diary Lady Bird called Shriver “a superb salesman”; reflecting on their first meeting, she said: “The Head Start idea has such hope and challenge. Maybe I could help focus public attention in a favorable way on some aspects of Lyndon’s poverty program” (Johnson, 1970: 219). She later recalled that, since she didn’t like being an “honorary something,” she set out to learn as much about the program as she could before taking to the road to promote it. During her five years, she made numer­ ous visits to Head Start programs in urban centers like Trenton, New Jersey and ­ Washington, DC and small rural towns in Tennessee and Kentucky, generating press coverage at every stop (Gillette, 2012: 361). As in the story about Sargent Shriver, Lady Bird noted that Secretary of the Interior Stewart Udall “came to see me hoping to interest me in the field of conservation for the National Parks” in February of 1965— which prompted the start of her beautifica­ tion initiatives (Gillette, 2012: 357). Lady Bird’s travels in support of Great Society programs prepared her for what most scholars agree was the most important trip of her first lady tenure: her solo 1,700‐ mile whistle‐stop tour of eight southern states during the 1964 election. It was the first time a sitting first lady had undertaken such a massive solo campaign trip. Carpenter, who called the tour “a salvage operation in the wake of the Civil Rights Act of 1964,” was inundated with requests from reporters who wanted to cover the trip (Carpenter, 1970: 144). Ultimately 225 journalists boarded the “Lady Bird Special,” while additional reporters from local papers and stations covered each stop along the way (1970: 154). Lady Bird made speeches at each of the 47 stops over the four‐day period. The large, mixed crowds that came

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to see the first lady included many African Americans as well as small groups of h ­ eckling Goldwater supporters “yelling ‘nigger‐lover Johnson’ and ‘What about Vietnam?’”—as was noted by the New York Times (Robertson, 1964b). Much of the work of the trip was done from behind the scenes. In an article from October 10, 1964, the New York Times’ Nan Robertson observed: On the trip, the president’s wife has spo­ ken to tens of thousands of persons at ral­ lies and from the rear of her observation car. But, perhaps more importantly, she has also been on the job constantly between stops, talking to a steady stream of politicians and party workers. (Robertson, 1964b)

Claude Sitton, also of the New York Times, stated in an October 11 article that Lady

Bird secured several firm endorsements from southern democratic leaders, gener­ ated “new sources of active support, finan­ cial and otherwise,” and aroused “enthusiasm for the campaign that had been sorely missing” (Sitton, 1964). On October 14, the Atlanta‐Constitution ran an editorial by nationally syndicated col­ umnist Max Freedman that praised both Lady Bird and Lyndon Johnson for not ignoring the South. When her husband carried four of the eight states in the elec­ tion, Lady Bird’s whistle‐stop tour received much of the credit (see Figure 30.1). Carpenter’s memoir provides the most thorough account of the whistle‐stop tour. She describes the crowds that gathered in each town to hear Johnson speak, including the protesters at some of the sites. She also takes readers to the first lady’s more private

Figure 30.1  Lady Bird Johnson’s 1964 Whistlestop tour, October 1964. Source: LBJ Library photo by Frank Muto. Courtesy of the Lyndon Baines Johnson Presidential Library.



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meetings with governors, congressmen, and local politicians, where she convinced them to publicly support her husband. In A White House Diary, Lady Bird offers two detailed entries explaining the preparation that went into the whistle‐stop, including the calls she personally made to democratic leaders invit­ ing them to join her during stops in their states. She makes keen observations on the political motivations that led some people to accept her invitation and others to politely decline (Johnson, 1970: 194–198). In her next entry, Lady Bird chides herself for fail­ ing to record her experiences during the whistle‐stop and for the remainder of the campaign. She explains: “We were living so rapidly that I was simply too busy and too spent to have an hour or a moment with my recorder” (1970: 198). Years later, when asked about the trip by historian Michael Gillette, Lady Bird described it as a “marve­ lous, utterly exhausting adventure.” She recalled that the South was being painted in the press as “a bastion of ignorance and prejudice and all sorts of ugly things.” She said: although I knew I couldn’t be all that per­ suasive to them, at least I could talk to them in language they would understand. Maybe together we could do something to help Lyndon and then perhaps to change the viewpoint of some of those newspaper people who were travelling with me. (Johnson, 1970: 356)

But she added that many southerners knew that they “must march with the times … and free ourselves of the burden of preju­ dice” (1970: 356). As she told another biographer, “I knew the Civil Rights Act was right and I didn’t mind saying so, but I also loved the South and didn’t want it used as the whipping boy of the Democratic party” (Russell, 1999: 240). Every account of Lady Bird’s life points to the “Lady Bird Special” as a major achievement, particularly since it was the first solo campaign trip of its kind by a first

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lady. As Gil Troy (2000: 142) points out, the tour “snared big crowds, front‐page news coverage in newspapers, and coveted five‐minute segments on the network news  four nights in a row.” Betty Boyd Caroli (1995: 238) notes: “When the trip ended, just about everybody agreed that she had helped win votes for Lyndon—the disagreement came over how many.” ­ According to Lewis Gould (1996: 504), “Her political skill was instrumental in ­limiting Republican gains in Dixie in 1964” while Margaret Truman claims that Lyndon Johnson’s landslide victory could be traced directly to the whistle‐stop tour: “Half of those contested Southern states voted for him, thanks to Lady Bird” (Truman, 1995: 177). Myra Gutin observes that the trip also paved the way for some reconci­ liation between a recalcitrant South and the  Democratic Party (1989: 118). And the group of political wives that Lady Bird  assembled to assist with the whistle‐ stop would be “mobilized again to organize local Head Start programs throughout the South,” according to Gillette (2012: 356). While Lady Bird continued to serve as a champion for her husband’s legislative ­projects, particularly Head Start, Lyndon Johnson’s election in 1964 also opened the door for her to begin focusing on her own interests: promoting conservation and environmental issues.

Environmental Advocate Since her youth in East Texas, Lady Bird loved nature. She told historian Michael Gillette, Shortly after the inauguration in January of 1965, I knew I wanted to concentrate on whatever I could do on whatever parts of Lyndon’s program that made my heart sing, that came naturally to me, that belonged to me. (Gillette, 2012: 356)

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She quickly decided to focus on environ­ mental issues and developed a wide‐ranging agenda that supported conservation, clean air and water, the preservation of nature, and the greening of urban spaces. “Beautification” became the umbrella term used to refer to the first lady’s program. Lady Bird never liked it, saying that it sounded “cosmetic and trivial and it’s prissy”; she preferred the term “con­ servation” (Gould, 1999: 54). But “beautifi­ cation” stuck, as an appealing appellation for journalists to deploy, and Lady Bird’s “beau­ tification program” became, in many authors’ views, her most significant legacy. Lady Bird was successful at generating press coverage for her efforts by using some of the same techniques she employed when promoting her husband’s programs. She announced her new initiative in February 1965, when she told US News & World Report that her plans included creating new green spaces in Washington, DC, reducing unsightly billboards and junk yards along the nation’s highways, and protecting natu­ ral resources (“Ways to Beautify America: Exclusive Interview with the First Lady,” 1965). She started by focusing on the town she had called home for so many years: Washington, DC. The Committee for a More Beautiful Capital, which she chaired, planted trees and flowers in many of the city’s triangles and circles while also reno­ vating schools and cleaning up neighbor­ hoods in poorer areas of the district, as reported by the New York Times in March 1965. According to Maurine Beasley (2005: 97), Lady Bird aimed “to raise public aware­ ness of the link between poverty and lack of natural beauty.” Much of her work can still be seen today in both the tourist areas and the neighborhoods of the capital. To promote larger issues related to con­ servation as well as to encourage an appre­ ciation of the country’s natural beauty and US tourism, Lady Bird took reporters on several “adventure trips” where they hiked in the Grand Tetons, rafted down the Snake and Rio Grande rivers, and wandered among

giant California Redwoods with the first lady (Beasley, 2005: 98). Coverage of her “See America First” trips had an impact. Liz Carpenter noted: If she visited a national park, the tourist numbers tripled within a week. If she took a raft ride, this became the “in” thing to do. She knew it and was glad to help the US Treasury a bit by taking along report­ ers to tell about the wonders of the West or the East or wherever we went. (Carpenter, 1970: 85)

For Lady Bird, the mission was to introduce the public to the natural beauty existing in the US. She later recalled: “I hope [the trips] stirred in the hearts of some of those people who saw [them] on television … pride in their country and the desire to go and see it” (Gillette, 2012: 360). Journalists also reported on the contro­ versy over the first lady’s involvement with the Highway Beautification Act of 1965, including Senator Robert Dole’s suggestion that they delete all references to “Secretary of Commerce” in the bill and replace them with “Lady Bird.” The Washington Star ques­ tioned the first lady’s overt lobbying for the bill (Beasley, 2005: 99). Political cartoons ran in several publications, for example the Washington Star, the Chicago‐Sun Times, and the New Republic, and one r­ eplicated a Montana billboard that read: “Impeach Lady Bird” (Gould, 1999: 99–101). But Lady Bird and Lyndon Johnson were committed to the bill. She called on congressmen, urging them to give their support, and she asked newspa­ per editors to write editorials that promoted the legislation (Carpenter, 1970: 244). The leading scholarly authority on Lady Bird’s environmental efforts is historian Lewis L. Gould, who has written two books and several articles on the topic. His Lady Bird Johnson and the Environment (Gould, 1987) focuses on Lady Bird’s role in promot­ ing environmental issues. He discusses the White House Conference on Natural Beauty, her role in developing and lobbying for the



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Highway Beautification Act of 1965, and her establishment of the Committee for a More Beautiful Capital. Gould’s (1999) book Lady Bird Johnson: Our Environmental First Lady is a more traditional biography. It details Lady Bird’s upbringing, the early years of her marriage, and the couple’s rise through the political ranks. Her accomplishments as first lady are examined in relation to how they helped shape the modern first lady institu­ tion, from involvement in policymaking to the establishment of an East Wing staff and procedures that her successors emulated (Gould, 1999: ix). Her advocacy efforts, spe­ cifically beautification, are given the most attention. Gould argues that Lady Bird was the most active first lady since Eleanor Roosevelt and the first one to have a “sus­ tained programmatic initiative” that not only advocated for a cause, but resulted in legisla­ tion and programs that literally changed the landscape of America (1999: 50). He con­ cludes his book by looking at Lady Bird’s lifelong dedication to environmental issues— for instance her involvement in the Austin Town Lake Beautification Project, or her establishment of the National Wildflower Research Center, also in Austin, Texas (1999: 122–126). While most biographies discuss Lady Bird’s beautification program in vary­ ing detail, Gould’s work provides the most comprehensive examination of her efforts. Following her White House tenure, Lady Bird continued her conservation work, authoring two books on the topic. Texas: A Roadside View (Johnson, 1980) chronicled the highway beautification efforts of the Texas highway department. One of Lady Bird’s first acts after leaving the White House was establishing an annual award ceremony that honored individuals who spearheaded highway beautification pro­ grams. The book highlights the work done in Texas, which became a model for other states. Lady Bird said in the Introduction that she hoped to promote the ecological benefits as well as the aesthetic results of such programs. She co‐authored her second

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book, Wildflowers across America, with hor­ ticulturalist Carlton B. Lees (Johnson and Lees, 1988). This project grew out of her establishment of the National Wildflower Research Center in 1982. The book exam­ ines wildflowers indigenous to each of the 50 states, promoting their protection and encouraging their growth in public areas and private gardens. It also discusses her work with highway beautification and the founding of the Research Center, as well as her own love of wildflowers. Lady Bird’s public advocacy of environ­ mental issues was one of her most signifi­ cant achievements. When asked to reflect on the impact of her beautification pro­ gram, she said: Whatever service we performed was to walk this onto the national stage, put it on the national agenda. Yes, beautification, prissy word though it may be, became the busi­ ness of the politician, the businessman, the newspaper editor, and not just the ladies over a cup of tea. We broadened the scope of it, I hope, and made awareness of it. (Gillette, 2012: 358)

At the end of her tenure, reporters acknowl­ edged beautification as her lasting legacy. Time magazine’s November 1968 issue claimed: “The First Lady will doubtless be remembered for her wide‐ranging efforts to beautify the US … her continual calls for more parks and better playgrounds have made many Americans more thoughtful about the quality of their environment” (“Lady Bird’s Last Hurrah,” 1968: 14). A December 1968 US News & World Report article noted that “she has actually changed the face of America in some visible ways” through her beautification programs (“With the First Lady on Her Farewell Tour,” 1968: 47). Gould (1999: 109) sums up her accom­ plishments by stating that “her role as an environmental advocate within the federal government laid the basis for the contribu­ tions she made to American life through the end of the twentieth century.”

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Lady Bird’s Legacy Lady Bird believed that her role as first lady should “emerge in deeds, not words” (Gillette, 2012: 346). As one of the most active first ladies in history, she certainly achieved that goal. As she prepared to leave the White House, she told Newsweek’s Norma Milligan: “These have been five wonderful, challenging, exciting and rewarding years” (Milligan, 1968: 31). Scholars have chronicled her many deeds and the “can do” attitude she brought to the first lady role. Along with her promo­ tion of Great Society programs and environ­ mental issues, campaigning for her husband and acting as his trusted advisor, Lady Bird also championed the accomplishments of women in her “Women Doers” luncheons and promoted young women’s pursuit of careers, noting that it was possible to bal­ ance work and family. Since Lady Bird was not actively involved in the burgeoning sec­ ond‐wave feminist movement, most schol­ ars make no reference to it in their work. But her deeds and words often promoted the movement’s ideals (Burns, 2008: 109). In a 1964 speech, Lady Bird encouraged Radcliffe graduates to “achieve the precious balance between a woman’s domestic and civic life” by participating fully “in jobs, professions, or the political life of the com­ munity.” But she also said that the modern woman “does not want to be the long‐strid­ ing feminist … engaged in a conscious war with men. She wants to be—while equally involved—preeminently a woman, a wife, a mother, a thinking citizen” (quoted in Anthony, 1991: 119). Anthropologist Margaret Mead’s (1965) Redbook profile of Lady Bird made a direct reference to Betty Friedan’s The Feminine Mystique, published in 1963. Mead claimed that the new first lady was “not troubled by what has been called the ‘feminine mystique.’ In her own life she has combined home and children and career, hard, exacting, successful activi­ ties for which she has taken full r­esponsibility,

and happy cooperation with her husband” (Mead, 1965). A 1964 McCall’s article about Lady Bird also referred, albeit indi­ rectly, to Friedan’s work, observing: “Not surprisingly, fancy treatises examining the status of women as an abstruse problem amuse her; but her interest in encouraging projects begun by women, or encouraging their broader education could hardly be more real” (Sadler, 1964: 189). Lady Bird’s embodiment and enactment of feminist ide­ als is an area ripe for future research. Lady Bird showed a knack for knowing how to respond in tense situations. When one of her husband’s closest advisors, Walter Jenkins, was arrested for the solicitation of another man in a Young Men’s Christian Association (YMCA) bathroom and forced to resign just weeks before the 1964 elec­ tion, it was Lady Bird who made the first statement to the press. Going against her husband’s wishes, her statement showed support for their long‐time family friend, saying that her “heart was aching today for someone who has reached the point of exhaustion in dedicated service to his coun­ try” (Russell, 1999: 268). By shifting the focus to a medical problem, Lady Bird helped to diffuse a potential scandal and spared both Jenkins’ family and her husband from further embarrassing press coverage. Lady Bird had her share of criticism, espe­ cially for her husband’s escalation of the war in Vietnam. She was met by protesters and was booed during speeches at Williams College and at Yale University in October 1967, yet she refused to cancel her engage­ ments, saying in her diary that she “must not live in the White House, insulated against life. I want to know what’s going on—even if to know is to suffer” (Johnson, 1970: 582). In January 1968 she had a famous run‐in with actress and activist Eartha Kitt at one of her Women Doers luncheons over the war in Vietnam. While Kitt’s comments caught her off guard, Lady Bird offered a gracious response that vali­ dated Kitt’s perspective while promoting



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her own view that, in spite of the war, it was important to “work on bettering the things in this country that we can better” (Anthony, 1991: 152). Lady Bird’s ability to respond thoughtfully even when faced with criticism has led scholars to consider her one of the most effective communicators among first ladies. Several sources have sought to assess Lady Bird’s legacy by comparison with those of other first ladies. The most notable work is that of Robert P. Watson. His book The Presidents’ Wives: Reassessing the Office of First Lady (Watson, 2000) looks at first ladies’ approval ratings and at the annual Gallup “Most Admired Women” poll in order to gauge public opinion of first ladies. Watson states that Lady Bird was “an activist and political partner” who emerged as a “woman with her own identity and a power­ ful public figure in her own right” (Watson, 2000: 56). There were no first ladies approval ratings polls taken during Lady Bird’s tenure, but she appeared on the “Most Admired Women” list nine times between 1963 and 1974. However, she often ranked second, behind Jacqueline Kennedy (Watson, 2000: 179). Watson also analyzes recent efforts to “rate” first ladies in surveys conducted by Good Housekeeping in 1980, by the Sienna Research Institute in 1982 and 1993, and by himself in 1996. In each case, presidential scholars were asked to rate first ladies on various criteria, rang­ ing from their performance of traditional roles, like hostess and presidential surrogate, to more political roles, like advisor and social advocate. The 1980 Good Housekeeping poll ranked Lady Bird first among twenti­ eth‐century first ladies, with a score of 92 out of a possible 100 points (Watson, 2000: 183). In Watson’s survey, conducted in 1996–1997, Lady Bird was ranked as the fourth “most successful” first lady. However, she was listed as seventeenth in overall rank­ ings of first ladies from Martha Washington through Hillary Rodham Clinton (2000: 189). In the Sienna Research Institute (SRI)

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poll, Lady Bird ranked third in 1982 and sixth in 1993. Since the publication of Watson’s book, the SRI has conducted three more polls. Lady Bird fell to seventh place in 2003, jumped up to fifth place in the 2008 poll, and then dropped back to the seventh spot in the most recent poll, in 2014. She ranked in the top five in three of the SRI’s categories: “imagine serving as president”; “performed greatest service after leaving White House”; and “created lasting legacy” (Sienna Research Institute, 2014). While the results of such surveys are inter­ esting, there are a host of problems with ranking first ladies. Such polls do not take into account the historical context in which a first lady served or the ways in which the position has evolved over the years. There is also a bias toward “celebrity” first ladies (for example, Abigail Adams, Dolley Madison, Eleanor Roosevelt, Jackie Kennedy), who are generally more well known than some of their cohorts. Another problem is the knowl­ edge level of the presidential scholars sur­ veyed. Watson says that several respondents to his survey admitted that they weren’t familiar with every first lady. It is hoped that this final problem may be resolved as the body of first ladies scholarship continues to grow. Lady Bird’s lasting legacy was affirmed in the coverage following her death on July 11, 2007, at the age of ninety‐four. Her obituaries recalled her many accomplish­ ments, including her role as one of her hus­ band’s most trusted advisors, her promotion of Great Society programs, her historic whistle‐stop campaign, her beautification efforts, and her life‐long commitment to environmental issues. In a Newsweek edito­ rial, presidential scholar Michael Beschloss called Johnson one of our “most impor­ tant” first ladies: Quietly but firmly she advised LBJ on rhetoric, strategy and personal relations, and helped to dampen his volatile mood swings. Years later she shook her head

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modestly when people praised her for helping to found the modern environ­ mental movement with her efforts for ‘beautification’ (a word she hated)— cleaning up cities, highways and air. But they were right. (Beschloss, 2007)

The Los Angeles Times said that she “expanded the terrain of the first lady by taking a visible role in her husband’s admin­ istration, most memorably in her national beautification efforts” (Woo, 2007: 1). Lady Bird’s contributions as an early environmentalist were widely recognized in these eulogies. Time magazine called her “the first Green first lady” (Lacayo, 2007), while a USA Today headline ran “First Lady, First Environmentalist” (Kiely, 2007). Remembering her friend and former boss in the Dallas Morning News, Liz Carpenter wrote eloquently: She made us conscious of nature’s beauty. She alerted us to the erosion of our envi­ ronment. Their monuments are not only the LBJ Library and the Lady Bird Johnson Wildflower Center, both in Austin, but also in the human justice in LBJ’s civil rights legislation. Lady Bird was part of that, whistle‐stopping through Dixie to convince fellow Southerners that civil rights must come. (Carpenter, 2007)

Her obituaries were a fitting finale to years of positive press coverage for one of the most active first ladies in US history. Conclusion Lady Bird was an extraordinary woman, who both reflected her era and was ahead of her time. She was a supportive wife and mother who took pride in being a gracious hostess, like many women of that period. But she was also a trusted political advisor and confidante to her husband. She was a

successful businesswoman and a social advocate who promoted a variety of causes, from early childhood education to environ­ mentalism. She used her college journalism training to develop positive press relations with women reporters who covered the activity of the first lady—both as she cam­ paigned for her husband and traveled in support of his Great Society programs and her own interests in conservation. Lady Bird’s living legacy can be seen in the many parks and green areas that continue to thrive in Washington’s neighborhoods and in the wildflowers that bloom annually in her beloved Austin and throughout the nation. While the many books and articles writ­ ten about Lady Bird detail her life and accomplishments, there is still more research to be done. For example, only one seventh of her White House diary was published. The remaining materials are available at the Johnson Presidential Library. There is cer­ tainly information in those transcripts, as well as in her personal papers, that may shed more light on her White House years. The Oval Office recordings are also a rich source of material that has yet to be explored fully, especially the recordings focusing on the Johnson administration’s later years. It would also be interesting to explore Lady Bird’s involvement with her radio and tele­ vision stations, which lasted until late into her life, or her role as a community leader in Austin, Texas. Her embodiment and pro­ motion of feminist ideals during the early years of the women’s movement is also an area that warrants further study. Finally, oral histories of Lady Bird’s daughters and grandchildren would offer more insight into her private life, especially her post‐White House years. Well liked by the press and the public dur­ ing her tenure and well regarded by historians, Lady Bird Johnson is one of the most compel­ ling and influential first ladies in history. Yet there is still more that can be learned about her influence on her husband, her impact as



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first lady, her effectiveness as a business owner and community leader, and the legacy she left behind after a long and active life. References Anthony, C. S. 1991. First Ladies: The Saga of the Presidents’ Wives and Their Power, 1961–1990, vol. 2. New York: Morrow. Beasley, M. 2005. First Ladies and the Press: The Unfinished Partnership of the Media Age. Evanston, IL: Northwestern University Press. Beschloss, M. R. 1998. Taking Charge: The Johnson White House Tapes, 1963–1964. New York: Simon & Schuster. Beschloss, M. R. 2002. Reaching for Glory: Lyndon Johnson’s Secret White House Tapes, 1964–1965. New York: Simon & Schuster. Beschloss, M. 2007. “A Lady by Any Standard.” Newsweek, July 23: 1. Burns, L. M. 2008. First Ladies and the Fourth Estate: Press Framing of Presidential Wives. DeKalb: Northern Illinois University Press. Carlin, D. B. 2004. “Lady Bird Johnson: The Making of a Public First Lady with Private Influence.” In Inventing a Voice: The Rhetoric of American First Ladies of the Twentieth Century, edited by Molly M. Wertheimer, 273– 295. Lanham, MD: Rowman and Littlefield. Caro, R. 1982. The Years of Lyndon Johnson: The Path to Power. New York: Alfred A. Knopf. Caro, R. 1994. The Years of Lyndon Johnson: Means of Ascent: End of an Affair. New York: Random House. Caro, R. 2002. The Years of Lyndon Johnson: Master of the Senate. New York: Alfred A. Knopf. Caroli, B. B. 1995. First Ladies, expanded edn. New York: Oxford University Press. Carpenter, L. 1970. Ruffles and Flourishes. Garden City, NY: Doubleday. Carpenter, L. 2007. “Journalist Remembers Her Friend.” Dallas Morning News, July 12: 1. C‐SPAN. 2013. “First Ladies Influence & Image: Lady Bird Johnson.” http://firstladies.c‐span. org/FirstLady/38/Lady‐Bird‐Johnson.aspx (accessed June 6, 2014). Dallek, R. 1992. Lone Star Rising: Lyndon Johnson and His Times, 1908–1960. New York: Oxford University Press. Dallek, R. 1999. Flawed Giant: Lyndon Johnson and His Times, 1961–1973. New York: Oxford University Press.

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Gillette, M. L. 2012. Lady Bird Johnson: An Oral History. New York: Oxford University Press. Gould, L. L. 1987. Lady Bird Johnson and the Environment. Lawrence: University Press of Kansas. Gould, L. L., ed. 1996. American First Ladies: Their Lives and Legacy. New York: Routledge. Gould, L. L. 1999. Lady Bird Johnson: Our Environmental First Lady. Lawrence: University Press of Kansas. Gutin, M. G. 1989. The President’s Partner: The First Lady in the Twentieth Century. New York: Greenwood Press. Johnson, Lady B. 1970. A White House Diary. New York: Holt, Rinehart & Winston. Johnson, Lady B. 1980. Texas: A Roadside View. San Antonio: Trinity University Press. Johnson, Lady B., and C. B. Lees. 1988. Wildflowers Across America. New York: Abbeville Press. Johnson, L. B. 1971. The Vantage Point: Perspective of the Presidency, 1963–1969. New York: Holt, Rinehart & Winston. Kiely, K. 2007. “First Lady, First Environmentalist.” USA Today, December 27: 6A. Lacayo, R. 2007. “The First Green First Lady.” Time, July 23: 1. “‘Lady Bird’ Johnson: The New First Lady.” 1963. US News & World Report, December 2: 16. “Lady Bird’s Last Hurrah.” 1968. Time, November 29: 13–14. “LBJ’s LBJ: First Lady of the Land.” 1964. Newsweek, December 28: 12. Marton, K. 2001. Hidden Power: Presidential Marriages That Shaped Our Recent History. New York: Pantheon. Mead, M. 1965. “Mrs. Lyndon B. Johnson: A New Kind of First Lady?” Good Housekeeping, July: 12. Milligan, N. 1968. “The First Lady: The Last Stand.” Newsweek, December 9: 31–32. Montgomery, R. 1964a. Mrs. LBJ. New York: Holt, Rinehart & Winston. Montgomery, R. 1964b. “What Kind of Woman Is Our New First Lady?” Good Housekeeping, March: 32. “Mrs. LBJ: Saleslady for ‘Great Society.’” 1967. US News & World Report, March 27: 22. “The New First Lady.” 1963. Time, November 29: 33. Robertson, N. 1964a. “Mrs. Johnson Cheered in ‘Poverty Pocket’ Coal Towns.” New York Times, January 12: 1.

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Robertson, N. 1964b. “Mrs. Johnson Ends 8‐ Smith, M. 1964. The President’s Lady: An Intimate Biography of Mrs. Lyndon B. Johnson. State Rail Tour of the South.” New York New York: Random House. Times, October 10: 15. Rothman, H. K. 2001. LBJ’s Texas White House: Troy, G. 2000. Mr. and Mrs. President: From the Trumans to the Clintons. Lawrence: University Our Heart’s Home. College Station: Texas Press of Kansas. A&M Press. Russell, J. J. 1999. Lady Bird: A Biography of Truman, M. 1995. First Ladies. New York: Random House. Mrs. Johnson. Lanham, MD: Taylor Trade. Sadler, C. 1964. “Our Very Busy First Lady.” Watson, R. P. 2000. The Presidents’ Wives: Reassessing the Office of First Lady. Boulder, McCall’s, March: 188–189. CO: Lynne Rienner. Sienna Research Institute. 2014. “First Ladies Study.” https://www.siena.edu/centers‐­“Ways to Beautify America: Exclusive Interview with the First Lady.” 1965. US News & World institutes/siena‐research‐institute/social‐ Report, February 22: 72–78. cultural‐polls/first‐ladies‐study (accessed “With the First Lady on Her Farewell Tour.” 1968. June 8, 2014). US News & World Report, December 9: 46–47. Sitton, C. 1964. “Mrs. Johnson’s Southern Trip Spurs New Support.” New York Times, “With Lady Bird in the White House.” 1965. US News & World Report, February 1: 12. October 11: 72.

Chapter Thirty one

An Unlikely First Lady: Pat Nixon Mary C. Brennan

Pat Nixon was an unlikely first lady. In addition to the fact that she lacked the class background of most of the other wives of American presidents, she did not act like a “typical” political spouse either. Some first ladies were ambitious political partners of their spouses, sometimes pushing them to try for higher office, sometimes participating actively in political decisions. Others were retiring, silent, stay‐in‐the‐background wives who rarely appeared in public, and spoke little, if at all. Still other first ladies found the rough‐ and‐tumble of politics distasteful but enjoyed the social aspects of life in the White House. Pat combined all of these characteristics into a unique first lady role that few contemporaries fully appreciated and later scholars rarely noticed. In fact historians did not escape the pattern set by journalists in covering the Nixons until new evidence became available in the twenty‐first century. Lester David set the standard in 1978 with his characterization of Pat as “the lonely lady of San Clemente” of his book title (David, 1978). Although Julie Nixon Eisenhower’s (1986) biography of her mother refuted David’s portrait, most scholars discounted it as the biased work of a loving daughter. Betty Caroli (1987), Paul Boller (1988), and Lewis Gould (1996) attempted to move away from the standard

caricature by acknowledging the accomplishments of the “least known” first lady (Boller, 1988: 397). Always, however, her husband’s presence overwhelmed her story. Even as Richard Nixon’s reputation revived in the years following his death, Pat’s image remained mired in passivity and stereotype (Hoff, 1994: 343). Journalist Kati Marton confirmed this in her description of Pat as an “ornament” (Marton, 2001: 190). Only when her papers and those of her best friend Helene Drown became available did the story begin to change. Both Brennan (2011) and Swift (2014) utilized these papers to build a more complete image of Pat Nixon, allowing her voice to be heard, crediting her with the choices she made, and recognizing the importance of the unique background she brought to the office of first lady. As with all first ladies, Pat’s experiences influenced how she carried out her office. Unlike women born into families steeped in the art of politics, Pat learned the hard way, campaign by campaign, fighting alongside her husband in the trenches. Over the decades, she grew to resent the lack of privacy, the media attacks, and the way in which her husband’s advisors treated her. At the same time she received valuable, hands‐on experience during the eight years of her husband’s vice presidency and she

A Companion to First Ladies, First Edition. Edited by Katherine A. S. Sibley. © 2016 John Wiley & Sons, Inc. Published 2016 by John Wiley & Sons, Inc.

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enjoyed the travels, the excitement, and the sense of accomplishment. She might have seen her ascension to first ladyship as her duty, but she also realized that it was an opportunity for her to bring her knowledge of and dedication to everyday people into the political conversation. In the process, the woman known for her dislike of politics ended up discovering her own political skills and using them to help people around the world. When scandals within her husband’s administration forced them both out of the White House, she again drew on her past to face the Nixon couple’s accusers defiantly. Sadly, her willingness to stand by her husband overshadowed all her accomplishments and turned her into a caricature of her real self. Many, or in fact most, first ladies were members of the elite in their own time and geographical space. Certainly eighteenth‐ and early nineteenth‐century first ladies were women from the upper class, who attended finishing schools that taught them social amenities. They knew what was expected of a good hostess and found ways to put up with what was required of the wife of a head of state. Even twentieth‐century first ladies who could not trace their ancestors back to the Revolution (as Eleanor Roosevelt could) still came from families that were leaders of their communities (as Bess Truman and Mamie Eisenhower did). These women knew what forks to use at formal dinners and how to dress appropriately for public appearances (Gould, 1996). Thelma Catherine (Pat) Ryan came from a very different world. Born the third child of first‐generation immigrants from Germany and Ireland, Pat knew poverty and hardship from a young age. Her father moved the family to California when she was a baby, hoping to make a fortune in citrus farming. He succeeded in keeping the family fed and clothed, but nothing was left over for luxuries. Her mother, who worked hard to make do with what they had, died when Pat was barely a teenager. Suddenly Pat was the woman of the house,

responsible for housekeeping, laundry, and cooking for her father and her two brothers. She did not let these new burdens stop her from focusing on her education, as she continued to earn excellent grades and participate in extracurricular activities. After high school graduation she wanted to continue her studies by taking college classes, but tragedy struck again: her father succumbed to tuberculosis, and this postponed her college dreams (Eisenhower, 1986: 17–41). Despite the struggles in her life, Pat persevered, continuing to work hard to accomplish her goals. She accepted whatever opportunities she found to support herself and to further her education. Often juggling three jobs, she completed her degree in business at the University of Southern California with a teaching certificate. Once she got her first teaching job, she used her salary to get a first taste of financial independence by making travels around the state and across the country. By her mid‐twenties she was an independent and self‐supporting woman determined to enjoy her freedom from responsibility. Like many of the first ladies who succeeded her, Pat appreciated her career and was in no hurry to find a husband. She dated off and on but refused for long to consider a serious relationship. Even when she met the young and newly established lawyer Richard Nixon in 1938, during a community theater production, she held him off. Nixon always said that it was love at first sight for him. Not so for Pat. She agreed to let him drive her places, but she still dated other men. He  gave her gifts; she tried to fix him up with one of her friends. But Nixon would not give up, and eventually she agreed to go out with him. They discovered a mutual desire to travel and do “something” with their lives. They might have started out in small towns with limited prospects, but they recognized in each other a kindred spirit of ambition and wanderlust. Perhaps more importantly, Nixon’s childhood resembled Pat’s in many ways. Both experienced the death of a loved one (in Nixon’s case, his



a n u n l i k e l y f i r s t l a d y : pat n i x o n

brother) as well as financial struggle. They understood each other as only those from a similar background can. After two years of dating, they married in June 1940 (Nixon, 1978: 23; Eisenhower, 1986: 56–58; Swift, 2014: 22–30). As with other first ladies in the future, Pat’s marriage did not end her career. Pat returned to the classroom in the fall of 1940. By the following school year, however, she and Dick decided that they wanted something more than life as a small‐town lawyer and schoolteacher. With war raging in Europe and the American economy bustling again after the Depression years, the Nixons leapt at the chance for a job in Washington, DC. They packed their belongings and moved east. Rather than becoming a housewife, Pat went to work too, joining her husband at the Office of Price Administration (OPA). Almost a year later, with Pat’s full support, Dick joined the navy. While he waited for an active duty assignment, the couple moved across the country again, landing for a time in the Midwest before settling in California. In each new city, Pat found work by using her degree and varied work experiences. When he shipped off, she stayed in San Francisco and went back to work for the OPA, working her way up to the position of price analyst. She saved most of her salary for the couple to buy a house after the war (Brennan, 2011: 16–17). During this period, Pat confronted the conflict that would bother her for the rest of her life. In one of the last letters she wrote Dick before he returned home, she articulated her dilemma. On the one hand, she loved her husband and missed him desperately. Clearly she wanted to be a good wife to him, even as she knew that this meant subsuming her needs to his—or, more hopefully, theirs. Yet on the other hand she realized that she liked her own career and her independence. She was self‐aware enough to know, however, that she could not have both. If she was going to have a

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career, it would have to be as her husband’s wife. Although she reconciled herself to her decision, the longing for something more never entirely left her (Brennan, 2011: 17). In the years immediately following Dick’s return from military service and the war’s end, Pat’s conflict intensified as Dick made the decision to enter politics. Although this was not a career she would have chosen, she accepted that it was her husband’s choice. Unlike many political wives who made occasional appearances, but mostly stayed at home and cared for the children, Pat determined to participate fully in the process. Being a “candidate’s wife” became her new career and she threw herself into it. Simultaneously, she also learned that she was pregnant. She would experience both halves of her dilemma at the same time. The question of Pat’s feelings about Dick’s career choice has been the subject of what little debate there has been about Pat. Lester David, her first biographer, asserts that Pat supported Dick’s decision, albeit naively and reluctantly (David, 1978: 63–67). Julie Nixon Eisenhower, in her biography of her mother, argues that her mother accepted the initial foray into politics as an adventure (Eisenhower, 1986: 84–87). Will Swift, in the most recent book about the Nixons, contends that Pat embraced this campaign wholeheartedly (Swift, 2014: 62). In my biography of Pat, I suggest that her feelings changed over the course of the years. In 1946, the path was exciting, but unknown; even in the 1950s she was ambivalent. Following the 1960 loss, she could see only the negative side of the political equation. Her willingness to cooperate in the presidential race in 1968 resulted from her sense of responsibility (Brennan, 2011: 19). The Nixons’ political career began as the war ended in 1945. A group of republican activists from Whittier, California, some of whom knew of Dick from his law practice, asked him whether he was interested in auditioning for their support to challenge

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the popular congressional democratic incumbent Jerry Voorhis. A pregnant Pat sent Dick out to California from their residence in DC (the navy had moved them back there), and he succeeded in winning over the group. Unfortunately, although the local leaders of the Republican Party— the “Grand Old Party” (GOP)—thought that he had potential, the party offered only limited financial backing even if he won the  primary. The Nixons had to finance the campaigns with their own money until donations started coming in. Consequently, Pat and Dick took the money they had saved during the war and used it to run first a primary and then a general campaign. Although the campaign absorbed all of their money, Pat felt vindicated when public contributions began rolling in. For her, the donations indicated that people believed in them (Brennan, 2011: 19–20). At that moment people believed in the dangers of communism too, and the campaign benefited from Voorhis’s clumsy handling of Nixon’s red baiting (Starr, 2002). Pat put much more than her savings into this campaign. Without her efforts, Dick’s career might have been over before it began. In the last trimester of her first pregnancy, Pat packed their belongings and moved the family across the country. With little money and with housing in short supply, they initially moved in with Dick’s parents before finding a cheap rental. Unable to afford an office staff, Pat organized the office, typed up the speeches, mailed the postcards, and wrote the thank you notes. In fact, just hours after giving birth to their first daughter, Patricia, (“Tricia”) on February 21, 1946, Pat was doing research for a campaign speech from her hospital bed. Within a month she returned to such duties full‐time. On most days she dropped the baby off at her mother‐in‐law’s, went to the campaign’s headquarters, and took care of clerical chores. Some days the couple made public appearances together; other times Dick went alone. At the end of the day she picked

up the baby and spent the evening typing up  notes and speeches while Tricia slept (Brennan, 2011: 20–21). Pat’s work was not all organizational or clerical. Because Nixon began the race as someone unknown challenging his opponent’s long tenure and popularity, they had to find ways to spread his message quickly. They decided to take advantage of the growing involvement of women in grassroots political activity by sponsoring a series of ladies’ teas (Brennan, 2008). After Dick visited the women and made a few remarks, he would leave for another meeting, while Pat stayed behind to spread the message and turn the women into Nixon supporters. Pat’s ability to remember names and faces as well as her genuine warmth proved to be invaluable assets to the campaign (Eisenhower, 1986: 88–89). Most importantly, Dick needed Pat’s presence and emotional support. He respected her intelligence and recognized that, since she had done most of the research for the speeches, she knew the material as well as he did. Their connection went beyond such practicalities, however. They understood each other and shared a similar outlook on the world, in part because of their parallel backgrounds. Pat and Dick also grew up in families that discouraged public displays of affection. Perhaps because of this bond, the emotional connection between the two was very important. When discussing the 1946 campaign in his memoirs, Nixon admitted that “Pat was my best helper.” Maybe that is the reason why he claimed that the victory in 1946 was the sweetest of all of his electoral triumphs. According to Nixon, he and Pat “were happier on November 6, 1946, than we were ever to be again in my political career” (Nixon, 1978: 36, 40). For Pat, the 1946 campaign reinforced her internal conflict and epitomized her view of the political life. In using her skills, knowledge, and energy to serve as political counselor and strategist to a newly elected congressional representative, she continued



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to be actively engaged in the world around her. Pat may have said that she would go along with whatever career path her husband chose, but she made the decision to support his choice and to participate fully in his political life. Many political wives with small children did not become as actively involved as Pat did in the campaign process. The baby gave her an excuse to stay home. That was not the choice Pat made. She also recognized that the victory changed their family, and especially their marriage, forever. Pat had boundless energy, but she also had a newborn who needed care. Unlike other political families, the Nixons could not afford a nanny, and, in Washington, Dick’s mother was no longer on hand to help. Pat could not be both her husband’s aide and a full‐time mother, and his political success—which she had made possible—changed the balance in their relationship. Moreover, Pat was a private person, used to controlling her own time. But political families have no such luxury; and she learned quickly that her life had become an open book. Even the most personal facts about their lives were now public knowledge; Tricia’s birth thus became one more way to generate publicity for her father’s congressional race. But harder for Pat to accept, as her daughter pointed out in her biography, was that shift in her relationship with her husband. Previously they had been partners, deciding together what steps they would take. The victory of 1946, however, made him the senior partner. After all, he was the breadwinner, and her input seemed less valuable than it had been before. He valued his wife’s opinion, but he thought of politics as “man’s work” (Eisenhower, 1986: 92). Meanwhile this first victory and the subsequent ones in 1948 (House), in 1950 (Senate), and in 1952 and 1956 (vice presidency) forced her to confront a social world for which she had neither the preparation nor the inclination. She feared embarrassing her husband. Even after they had been in

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DC for years, the Nixons did not fit comfortably into the night life expected of politicians. Two factors accounted for their behavior. First, despite the fact that Dick earned more money than he had ever done before, the family’s expenses rose with their move to Washington. They were never truly poor, but the fact that both Pat and Dick had experienced financial hardship for most of their lives colored their perspective on their own situation during these years and caused them to be very frugal. For example, when they could not afford a house during the early years, the young and growing family (their daughter Julie arrived in 1948) simply crowded into an apartment. They bought their first home in 1951—a modest three‐bedroom house. Not until 1957 were they able to purchase a larger home (Eisenhower, 1986: 130–131, 168). Housing was not their only additional expense. Pat prided herself on her ability to  run their household on a tight budget, just as she had done in taking care of her brothers and father when she was just a girl. Because of her increasing social responsibilities over the years, however, Pat could not manage everything by herself. She resisted hiring domestic help as long as she could on account of the expense, the lack of suitable applicants, and invasion of their privacy. In  particular, Pat struggled with finding someone she trusted to watch her children during the numerous events the couple had to attend. When Dick’s parents moved to a Pennsylvania farm, they were available for long‐term babysitting, which was especially useful during campaign season. For evening functions, Pat turned to Dick’s office staff or to the housekeepers she had to hire (Nixon and Morris, 1952: 93). Dick’s career put additional strain on their expenses. Because of her new social obligations, Pat needed a more extensive wardrobe. She faced a dilemma: she liked looking fashionable but hated spending the money on herself. She tried to find ways around the problem—shopping for bargains,

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keeping a list of what she wore to which event, and rotating outfits. The problems intensified during the vice presidential years. The second couple had to host visitors from across the country and from around the world, which required more additions to her wardrobe and consumed time as well as  money. In spite of her limited budget, Pat succeeded in transforming herself from a “drab little wren” into a well‐dressed, confident young mother of two (Brennan, 2011: 29, 56; Montgomery, 1956). Second, the Nixons’ personalities did not  mesh with the DC social whirlwind. The couple disliked playing bridge and Dick, in particular, despised cocktail parties “as the greatest invention for wasting time.” They preferred informal gatherings of friends and family, such as backyard barbeques (Nixon and Morris, 1952). In addition, although Pat liked meeting people, the endless luncheons and teas wore on her nerves. By 1956, she told her friend Helene Drown that she “would like to do part time work rather than all the useless gadding” that was required of her. Once the excitement and glamour of the early years faded, Pat began to resent the time away from her girls (Pat Nixon to Helene Drown 1956 = 1959 Drown Collection, Jack and Helene Drown Papers). In addition, during campaign season, Pat worked full time with her husband in her new position as “candidate’s wife,” a role that could require even more time and effort. Luckily for her, as she had a newborn and a two‐year‐old, Dick’s reelection to the House in 1948 required little effort on her part. The 1950 Senate campaign was tougher. The campaign itself was nastier, with mudslinging in both directions. With two small children at home, Pat felt torn between being a good mother and being a good wife. Despite her misgivings, she carried out her role as candidate’s wife beautifully (Brennan, 2011: 34–36). Nixon’s nomination and move to the vice presidency in tandem with presidential

candidate Dwight D. Eisenhower foisted Pat onto a bigger stage. Some historians argue that Pat tried to keep Dick out of the race, but that would have been uncharacteristic (Brodie, 1981: 255–256; Ambrose, 1987: 261–265). She worked as hard as anyone on the campaign staff, making hundreds of appearances and shaking thousands of hands. While she refused public speaking engagements, she proved herself to be a valuable member of the team. Recognizing the important role she could play in creating the Nixon image, the campaign staff set her up with a reporter for The Saturday Evening Post (Nixon and Morris, 1952). The resulting article, entitled “I Say He’s a Wonderful Guy,” introduced the American public to the young Nixons. Through the article, Pat fully assumed the role of political wife. By touting her husband’s accomplishments, she delivered his message to a new audience; in discussing their family, she served as a symbol of Dick’s wholesomeness. Although this would become important to Dick’s career, Pat’s shift away from substantive work foreshadowed her underlying frustration with the path her life had taken (Nixon and Morris, 1952). Just as the campaign began, a scandal threatened to doom the Nixons’ chances of  success. In September 1952 the press discovered Nixon’s possession of a slush fund of campaign contributions and accused him of unethical behavior. Eisenhower, who based his campaign on accusations of democratic corruption, hesitated to offer immediate support. On the advice of republican advisors, Nixon decided to take his case to the American public through a televised broadcast that became known popularly as the “Checkers” speech—the name of a much beloved black‐and‐white dog which Nixon mentioned in it (a dog that had been given to his family as a gift). While her husband provided a detailed account of their personal finances, Pat sat unmoving behind him with a fixed smile on her face. The speech served its purpose. Thousands of people



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sent telegrams or called the television station, the Republican National Headquarters, or the Eisenhower Campaign Headquarters offering support for Nixon (Nixon, 1962: 73–129). For Pat, the fund crisis reinforced everything she hated about politics. She had been dealing with the nasty side of politics almost from the beginning of Dick’s career. The name‐calling and the innuendo, the unflattering caricatures in the newspapers were things she had learned to ignore (if not forget). She could, moreover, accept that some people might not agree with his position or the way he did his job. The fund crisis, however, was personal. The accusations attacked their integrity. To counteract the allegations, the Nixons had to humiliate themselves by letting all of America look into their economic situation. Pat managed to keep smiling during the broadcast, through sheer determination and grit. Although David argued that it was “staged,” most other biographers acknowledge that, behind the façade, she seethed with anger and ached with embarrassment (David, 1978: 85; Troy, 2000: 175; Swift, 2014: 1–5, 119– 122). She told her daughter that it remained one of the most painful experiences of her public life (Eisenhower, 1986: 126). Despite the rough beginning, the vice presidential years provided Pat with her “first lady” education. Since Mamie Eisenhower and Pat developed a friendly relationship, Pat was able to observe how Mamie ran the White House. Having been a military wife for all of her married life, Mamie ran an efficient household. Mamie’s tutelage made up for Pat’s lack of social background and allowed her an unprecedented preview of what she would experience as first lady (Holt, 2007: 68–69). Mamie also delegated some of her responsibilities to Pat. Because of the first lady’s health problems, she could not attend to all of her duties. More significantly, Mamie was a devoted wife who would not leave her husband during his illnesses. Between the

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president’s heart attack, intestinal issues and stroke, Mamie frequently had Pat take over for her, often at the last minute and sometimes for long periods of time. In addition, Eisenhower’s incapacity made Dick acting president. The presence of secret service agents and reporters, Pat wrote Helene, turned their home into a “madhouse” (Pat Nixon to Helene Drown, 1955 = Drown Collection, Jack and Helene Drown Papers).1 Most enjoyably for Pat, however, the vice presidential years afforded her many opportunities to travel and develop her own diplomatic skills. Their first trip to Asia established the pattern the couple would follow throughout the 1950s. Along with their minimal entourage of ten staff, the Nixons embarked on a 42,000‐mile journey that lasted from October to December 1953. In just over two months, the group visited over fifteen countries, attended hundreds of state dinners, participated in innumerable ceremonies, and spoke to millions of people (Brennan, 2011: 59). Although this first Asian trip was unique in the length of time for which the second couple was overseas, it typified their traveling style, which combined quick visits to several countries. Later trips to Europe and South America would follow this pattern. Pat’s role on these journeys went beyond that of an ornamental wife. When Eisenhower asked Nixon to undertake the Asian assignment, he specifically told him to “take Pat with you.” Although she was very excited about the trip, Pat wrote to Helene Drown that she knew there was a “job to be done” (Pat Nixon to Helene Drown, 1953 = Drown Collection, Jack and Helene Drown Papers). The state department had briefed the group on the many countries and peoples they would be visiting. Pat took the briefings so seriously that her travel companions called her the group’s “walking encyclopedia” (Taves, 1956). Although Dick had meetings scheduled with leaders of the various countries and there were official dinners, the Nixons wanted to meet

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with as many different peoples as possible in the countries they visited (Nixon, 1978: 119). To help accomplish this goal, Pat had her own separate itinerary, which went beyond just the government‐sponsored or approved women’s teas and socials. She sought out the institutions that affected women, children or the infirm. For example, she visited hospitals and homes for the aged in Ceylon, orphanages in the Philippines, and army hospitals in Korea (Brennan, 2011: 59–62). At the end of her trip she noted that she had  visited over two hundred institutions in  the various countries, including those that promoted industry, trained women to support themselves and their children, and established neighborhood kitchens and dispensaries. Because her group made unscheduled stops, she felt that they were able to “get a real picture.” She concluded that they had succeeded in doing what they intended to do: “to show … [those they were visiting] that we were interested in them as people” (Nixon, 1953 = Patricia Ryan Nixon Papers). From that first trip, when a journalist recognized that Pat had borne “her full share of the work load,” the second lady established her credibility as an unofficial ambassador for the United States. Wherever she traveled people recognized her excitement at seeing new places and her genuine interest in all those she met. Another journalist, Earl Mazo, labeled her “this country’s most effective female ambassador of good will” after he accompanied Pat and Dick on a tour through Africa and Italy and watched as she “charmed peasants by the thousands and potentates by the dozens.” By the time of their last vice presidential trips, Pat had won over even a New York Times journalist who had called her a “diplomat in high heels.” The Capital Press Club, an organization of African American news correspondents, presented her with its International Relations Award in 1957 for her “good will activities among the people of eight African countries” (all quoted in Brennan, 2011: 62–63).

When anti‐American rioters attacked the Nixons’ vehicles in Caracas, Venezuela, Pat added courage to her diplomatic skill set (Nixon, 1962: Section 4). In fact, her ability to connect with the public made her a valuable and necessary member of the Nixon campaign crew as they prepared for their first run at the presidency in 1960. Historians disagree about her commitment to this race. Some argue that she was just doing as her husband wanted and secretly hated the idea (Troy, 2000: 177; David, 1978: 115; Boller, 1988: 406), while others state that she was “invested in” the campaign (Swift, 2014: 166–167; Brennan, 2011: 70–71). Regardless, Pat’s comments suggest that she saw that running a campaign was a team effort. A married couple, she explained to an interviewer, had to understand that a political career took the “work of two people.” Politics was her job as much as it was her husband’s (Brennan, 2011: 73). GOP leaders agreed. Building on the momentum of supportive constituents, the Republican National Committee and the Nixon staff worked with volunteers who organized a “Pat for First Lady” campaign. Pat attended numerous teas, socials, and women’s club events held in her honor in addition to making campaign appearances with her husband (Patricia Ryan Nixon Papers, 1960). It turned out that the campaign needed everything Pat could give. The strain of a presidential campaign far exceeded anything she had previously experienced in politics. The demands on her time increased exponentially even before Dick won the nomination. Once he became the republican candidate, she had new concerns, including for her husband’s health and about the effects of the presidential run on her daughters (Nixon, 1978: 218). No one worried about Pat because she seemed indefatigable. As they drove or flew thousands of miles, making hundreds of appearances, the couple continued to push on, carrying their message across the country.



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Election Day brought new tensions. Exhausted after almost 72 sleepless hours, Dick, Pat, and the girls made it to California. Pat and Dick, who had been moving constantly, then had to wait and wait and wait. By late evening, with the results looking grim and despite allegations of fraud on the part of the Kennedy campaign, Dick prepared a concession speech. In the end, he lost the popular vote by only 112,881 votes. The margin in the Electoral College was much greater, 303 to 219 (Nixon, 1962: 383–386; Donaldson, 2007: 152). The Nixons were out of politics. The defeat devastated Pat. Although she had resented aspects of politics, even t­ elling one friend that she had “given up everything” she ever loved because of her ­husband’s career, she took this loss as a personal failure. Photos of Pat during Dick’s speech illustrated her intense grief (Eisenhower, 1986: 197). A “state of numbness” consumed her during the days and weeks following the defeat. Her “faith in the ‘right,’” she explained to Helene, had been “shaken to the point” where she “could not discuss the situation any more” (Pat Nixon to Helene Drown, 1960 = Drown Collection, Jack and Helene Drown Papers). She believed that she and her husband were doing something important ­ for the country and the people rejected them. Years later, Julie would write that the 1960 loss “disillusioned her [mother] beyond redemption” (Eisenhower, 1986: 204). But Pat and Dick had learned when they were young that great losses could be endured. They decided to go back to California to be close to family and friends. Unused to inactivity, Dick moved out west ahead of the rest of the family. While Pat and the girls packed the house and waited for the school year to end, Dick started writing Six Crises, his first memoir. Pat enjoyed the luxury of turning down invitations and controlling her own schedule for the first time in over a decade. That first summer after the 1960 election was a

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wonderful time for Pat. Between decorating their new home and entertaining the girls and their friends, she reveled in not worrying about politics (Brennan, 2011: 79–81; Swift, 2014: 172–173; David, 1978: 122). The hiatus from politics lasted less than one year. The California gubernatorial race of 1962 lurked in the background from the moment Dick landed in the Golden State. While some friends and advisors pushed him to run, others argued against it (Nixon, 1978: 237–238). Unlike in the case of the 1960 contest, Pat did not think that this was a race Dick should enter. At least one scholar argues that Pat threatened suicide if he ran. Although that seems far‐fetched, even Pat’s daughter Julie admitted that her uncle, Tom Ryan, told her that Pat had threatened to “take her shoe to” Dick if he thought about getting back into politics (Brodie, 1981: 451; Eisenhower, 1986: 205). Pat realized that this campaign would be a tough, nasty fight and that the girls were old enough to understand the inevitable smears and accusations. She thought the price was too high for the prize. In the end, though, Pat felt “trapped.” She felt it was her responsibility to accept her husband’s choice to run whether she wanted to get back into politics or not (Nixon, 1978: 239–240; Eisenhower, 1986: 206). Observers noted her lack of enthusiasm as well as the fact that Dick campaigned without her most of the time (Brennan, 2011: 84). The 1962 campaign was a disaster. Following a tough primary fight, Nixon faced an incumbent, Pat Brown, who had the support of President Kennedy. John Fitzgerald Kennedy’s handling of the Cuban Missile Crisis, which occurred right before the election, almost guaranteed a democratic victory. In addition, the girls faced harassment at school, and even Pat came under attack as rumors spread that she had suffered a nervous breakdown. By the time of election night they were all exhausted, bitter, and angry—again. Nixon famously unleashed his frustration on the journalists

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who waited to hear his concession speech, telling them that they would not “have Nixon to kick around anymore” because this was his “last press conference.” Pat, who had never wanted to be in the race, still “shouted ‘Bravo’ at the conclusion” of the speech and fully supported his decision to lambast the press. Once again, Pat was grief‐ stricken and numb. Once again, they were out of politics (Nixon, 1978: 237–246; Eisenhower, 1986: 213–214). The following years were bittersweet for Pat. On the positive side, the Nixons decided to start over in a new city. This time they moved back east to New York City, where Dick joined a large law firm. The city offered anonymity for Pat and the girls as well as opportunities for shopping, touring museums, and going to Broadway plays. The family moved into a large apartment in the city, which Pat enjoyed decorating and remodeling. In addition, Dick finally made good on a promise he had made Pat back in 1947: he took the family on a European tour. For six weeks, the Nixons and their friends Jack and Helene Drown with their daughter Maureen traveled to Rome, Berlin, Madrid, Paris, and Cairo. Most importantly for Pat, they were officially private citizens again (Brennan, 2011: 88–93). Despite the fun Pat had with her girls, despite the absence of media attention, despite no campaigning, these years were not without difficulties. Swift calls this period Pat’s “mid‐life crisis” and Troy mentions rumors of divorce (Swift, 2014: 190– 193; Troy, 2000: 178) Certainly Pat felt conflicted about her family. Her daughters were becoming young women with lives of their own. Pat’s relationship with Dick was even more problematic. Although they continued to talk about their daughters and occasionally to surprise one another romantically, they spent a great deal of time apart. They had never been good at talking to each other and the stress of the campaigns of 1960 and 1962 just made things worse. Both of them expressed frustration with

each other’s inability to communicate (Pat Nixon to Helene Drown, 1967 = Drown Collection, Jack and Helene Drown Papers; Nixon, 1978: 287–289). Compounding everything else, Pat was bored. The girl who grew up on a farm did not know how to live the life of a high‐powered lawyer’s wife. Even in the midst of decorating, her background would show. She ordered gold‐plated traps for the water faucets but made the curtains for the girls’ rooms herself (Brennan, 2011: 88). She tried charity work, but found it unsatisfying. Although she enjoyed meeting people, she disliked the shallowness of fundraising without doing any actual work. The occasional elegant dinner still left her with too much time on her hands. Even her wandering spirit seemed to have evaporated. Her husband traveled extensively during these years, but she either was not invited along or chose not to go (Eisenhower, 1986: 225). According to at least two historians, she felt “guilty” about not going with him and worried that she had failed her husband (Swift, 2014: 192; Troy, 2000: 178). Pat was used to working, and she was used to working in politics. As a result, she went back to what she knew best: helping out in Dick’s office, sorting mail, typing letters, and answering the phone. She called herself “Miss Ryan” in order to maintain her anonymity (Eisenhower, 1986: 222, 227). During the 1964 presidential election between Lyndon Johnson and Barry Goldwater, Pat assured Helene (a devoted Goldwaterite) that she was “slaving 14 hours a day” in Dick’s office, doing her part as a good Republican, just as Dick was doing his by campaigning for Goldwater, the Arizona senator, across the country. Pat continued her moonlighting even after Goldwater’s disastrous defeat. She explained to Helene that the work broke “the monotony” and helped “the months and years fly.” Contradicting the idea that Pat despised politics, she spent a considerable amount of time discussing political issues with her



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friends (Pat Nixon to Helene Drown, 1964 and 1965 = Drown Collection, Jack and Helene Drown Papers). According to most of her biographers, Pat was thus not surprised when in December 1967 Dick told his family about his plans to make another run for the presidency (David, 1978: 126; Swift, 2014: 193). The man who had declared himself out of politics in 1962 had been working ever since to rebuild his reputation. He had spent the years between elections criss‐crossing the nation giving speeches, keeping himself on the public’s radar. Nixon’s numerous trips overseas reinforced his foreign policy credentials (Nixon, 1978: 264–294). When he asked his family whether they thought he should run, his daughters told him he had to. According to Julie, Pat did not want him to run but had “reconciled” herself to the decision (Eisenhower, 1986: 231–234). Despite her unhappiness with the decision, Pat shifted into her role as candidate’s wife seamlessly. Boller and Gould accept her statement that she believed that her husband was the only man who could save the country (Boller, 1988: 407; Gould, 1996: 527). Swift argues that, once the decision was made, she was a “formidable” campaigner, while Marton states that Pat had no choice but to participate (Swift, 2014: 195; Marton, 2001: 184). Although she usually traveled with Dick, sometimes she made appearances on her own. Pat did not give political speeches, but she would occasionally tell stories from her childhood in order to show voters that she understood their struggles because she had experienced some of her own. But it was the image of Pat as loving wife that was her most important contribution to the campaign. Her presence transformed Dick from “a hard‐driving husband” into a “warm, human family man,” as one reporter put it. In order to accomplish that feat, Nixon needed her to be by his side and show her belief in him (Brennan, 2011: 96–97).

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Although Pat played her part well, she  did transform the role from her 1960 performance. Instead of being a member of the “team,” as she had been in 1960, in  1968 she emphasized that she was “a volunteer” in the campaign. Politics was Dick’s career, she explained, not hers. Pat also occasionally let down her guard and allowed her personality to come through her “campaign façade.” In fact, in a break with precedent, Pat sometimes voiced her opinion on the key topics of the day. Although she did not give speeches or even “talks,” her feelings about college protesters (they were wasting their privileges)—and especially about what she called “woman power” (she wanted to see a woman on the Supreme Court)—could be gleaned from offhand remarks or responses to questions (Brennan, 2011: 98–99). Several factors beyond her control probably account for her new campaigning style and behavior. Obviously, Pat was eight years older and had already experienced all  of this before. After the devastating losses in 1960 and 1962, she could not be as committed to this campaign. Additionally, her daughters were old enough to accompany her on some of her trips, giving her companionship and turning the work into fun. Perhaps most significantly, the campaign staff was different. Newcomers replaced many of the old‐timers whom the Nixons had worked with for so long. These younger men, people such as H. R. Haldeman and John Ehrlichman, infused the campaign with a more serious, more rigid structure. They had not been around during earlier races and hence tended to undervalue Pat’s importance to the candidate and to his campaign (Eisenhower, 1986: 240–241). As historians have pointed out, this would continue to be a problem during the White House years. Although Caroli blames Nixon for setting a disrespectful tone toward his wife, other historians see the conflict between Pat and his staff as a struggle for control over access to the president (Caroli,

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1987: 249–250; Swift, 2014: 229–230; Gould, 1996: 533). The most significant difference from 1960, however, was that Nixon won. Despite challenges from within his party and a last minute attempt from President Johnson to help Hubert Humphrey, the democratic candidate, by announcing a new round of peace talks in Vietnam (and Nixon’s own behind‐the‐scenes efforts to derail them), Nixon finally achieved his goal. In a move that further indicated how things had changed, he spent election night with his aides rather than with Pat and the girls (Nixon, 1978: 331–333). It was a hint to what was to come. Perhaps because of her background and her experiences along the path to the White House, Pat refused to fit into the standard first lady mold. She stubbornly held her ground on issues that she felt were important, often fighting her husband’s aides as well as the media. A comment made on her first day in the White House revealed her determination to be true to her background. She told a group of republican campaign workers that they were all invited back. “We’re going to have our friends here,” she stated, “instead of all the bigshots!” Her remark shocked both her press secretary and the president (West, 1973: 364). She proved equally intractable when it came to the issue of her correspondence. Pat believed that responding to constituent mail in a timely fashion was an essential part of her responsibility. As she had during the vice presidential years, Pat worked closely with her correspondence staff. On average, she spent about five hours a day writing responses, editing the standard replies generated by her staff and signing hundreds of letters (Gwen King Papers). When anyone questioned her dedication to her correspondence, she explained that she came from a small town and knew what a thrill it was for someone to receive a letter from the White House.

That same sense of devotion to the “little people” manifested itself in her “cause.” Soon after the election, the press hounded her about what her “cause” would be. While earlier first ladies had had their own causes (such as Florence Harding’s work with veterans, or Lou Henry Hoover’s focus on the Girl Scouts), the close identification of Pat Nixon’s two immediate predecessors with specific concerns made it inevitable that she too would be expected to bring her  passions to a worthwhile issue. After all,  Jacqueline Kennedy had redecorated the  White House, and Lady Bird Johnson had devoted herself to environmental issues. After the inauguration, the West Wing staff joined the chorus about the “cause.” With much prodding from Nixon’s aides, Pat settled on volunteerism. This generally innocuous category served the president’s purpose by fitting into his fiscally conservative, silent majority theme. Pat decided, though, to make it her own. If she was going to be used for a political agenda, she would at least make certain that she controlled as much of it as she could. Volunteering suited her belief in hard work and in reaching out to others and allowed her to escape both the “bigshots” in Washington and the oppressive eyes of her husband’s aides. As a result, she told her staff that she did not want to be greeted by local, state, or federal officials with dozens of roses, nor would she listen to local politicians or CEOs bragging about their many successes. She wanted to be able to spend time with volunteers themselves, and with the people being helped. Even skeptical reporters noted Pat’s genuine concern for volunteers and the people they were serving, as she traveled thousands of miles to meet with volunteers of all ages, from teens to senior citizens. Her visits drew attention to programs that tutored school children and high school dropouts, aided the blind and the deaf, and encouraged the  development of community gardens. Historians have largely accepted that this was a cause in which she truly believed



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(Brennan, 2011: 109–110; Gould, 1996: 528–529; Boller, 1988: 410). Pat brought this same spirit of generosity and concern to her trips abroad. Returning to the aspect of her second lady job that gave her the most satisfaction, she succeeded not only in refurbishing America’s reputation in parts of the world where it had been tarnished; she also expanded the duties of the first lady to include her official designation as a representative of the president abroad. Although both Eleanor Roosevelt and Lady Bird Johnson traveled alone, Pat set a precedent with her first solo trip to Peru in 1970 after a devastating earthquake. As the first first lady to lead a foreign mission, she showed what her brand of diplomacy could garner. An editorial in La Prensa, the main newspaper in Lima, summed up the “profound significance” of Pat’s visit. “In her human warmth and identification with the suffering of the Peruvian people,” the editorial continued, she had “gone beyond the norms of international courtesy.” Upon her departure, the Peruvian president awarded her the Grand Cross of the Order of the Sun. Even the often critical Washington Post admitted that she had “threaded her way among all … potential sources of trouble admirably and with skill” (all quoted in Brennan, 2011: 120–121; Troy, 2000: 188). Pat expanded the first lady role further through her trip to Africa in 1972. When she set out on an eight‐day, 10,000‐mile trip to the African continent in order to participate in the inauguration of William Tolbert, the new president of Liberia, she became the first first lady to serve as an official representative of the United States. In this capacity she not only attended the inauguration ceremonies, she gave a speech before the national governing body. She also visited Ghana and Ivory Coast, holding private meetings with the leaders of these countries and passing along news from the president. The Africans also treated Pat and her entourage to a whirlwind of dinners, receptions, and presentations (Eisenhower,

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1986: 329–331; Porter Papers 1972, in Susan Porter Papers). Just as in Peru, in Africa, too, Pat’s genuine interest in the people she met won over the crowds locally and the press back home. At one of the presentations, Pat joyfully joined the women performers, donning native dress and dancing with them (see Figure 31.1). Even when she traveled with her husband, as during his precedent‐setting trip to China or on a return visit to the Soviet Union, Pat played an important role. To the peoples of the countries she visited she represented not just American women, but all Americans. Since her husband was usually occupied in meetings, she was the one on the streets, meeting the people. In the case of China, the news cameras followed her (Nixon, 1978: 544–580). For a small‐town girl, such world travel was heady stuff. In fact, by 1972 Pat was in a good place in her life. Her daughters were happily married to men she liked and respected. Despite her continuing battles with her husband’s aides who undervalued, undermined, and undercut her, she enjoyed her role as traveling first lady. The accolades from the press validated her growing confidence in her abilities to contribute to the administration’s goals. Even campaigning did not seem as daunting as it once had been. She took off on her own tour. Most amazingly, some members of the press began to write about a “new” Pat Nixon, one who was warm and smart and not “plastic” (David, 1978: 128–129; Brennan, 2011: 129–131). The label “Plastic Pat” had followed Pat for years and had developed for various reasons. Her ability to sit and listen with a smile on her face as Dick would give the same speech repeatedly certainly helped to create the stereotype. Her incredible stamina and legendary endurance contributed as well. Underlying everything else was Pat’s reputation as super‐housewife. From the earliest campaigns in the 1950s, party leaders and Dick’s campaign staff had emphasized Pat’s

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Figure 31.1  The first lady at the National Cultural Center performance in Monrovia, Liberia. She is wearing traditional dress and turban given to her by the dancers. Source: White House Photo Office, photograph by Jack Kightlinger.

ability to be both a homemaker and a political wife. They thought that this would endear her to her fellow housewives. This plan mostly worked, although there were women who either did not believe the hype or resented the inference that they were not as capable (Taves, 1956: 33; Brennan, 2011: 55). The tension over Pat’s image escalated during the 1960s, as the women’s movement began to challenge existing stereotypes. Beginning with the publication of Betty Friedan’s (1963) The Feminine Mystique, many women started to question the myth of domestic bliss associated with being a wife and a mother. By the time Pat became first lady in 1969, an increasingly more vocal and radical feminism was both shaping the movement and dividing women. Especially younger women denounced the glorification of the housewife as a method of limiting women’s options. For these feminists, Pat’s

apparent willingness to subsume her ambitions to her husband’s epitomized the paternalism rampant in America (Rosen, 2000: 4–8, 46). Pat and many women of her generation and class did not understand all of the commotion. After all, they had had careers (or jobs), especially during World War II, and they argued that they had made choices about their lives. They resented the implication that their work as wives and mothers was of less value than having a profession. Moreover, while some women did actively work to undermine feminism, others, such as Pat, maintained their pride in being wives even as they introduced changes at home. In  Pat’s case, she occasionally wore pants and, more importantly, she pushed her husband to appoint a woman to the Supreme Court, talked to him about supporting the Equal Rights Amendment (ERA), and



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supported abortion as a private choice. Despite her obvious support for women’s issues, however, she rejected the label feminist. For Pat, feminism meant marches, demonstrations and rejection of the role of wife and mother. She would make her opinions known to her husband, but she could not make herself reject her position as wife (Rosen, 2000: 271–276; Brennan, 2011: 138; Haldeman, 1994: 367–368; Troy, 2000: 189–190; Swift, 2014: 278). Pat’s belief in her wifely role meant that she expressed her anger at her husband in private and supported his decisions in public. Throughout their marriage, Pat rarely, if ever, let the public know that she disagreed with her husband. She had been raised to keep family matters private. Moreover, no matter how upset she was with him, she would not tolerate anyone else criticizing him. The best example of this occurred during the 1962 gubernatorial race. Pat had been against the campaign from the beginning, but she fully backed Dick’s angry attack on  the press when he lost the election (Eisenhower, 1986: 209–214). This pattern of behavior explained, in part, Pat’s response to the emerging Watergate scandals (Kutler, 1990). No matter how angry she was with her husband, she always defended him against outside attacks. Additionally, the Washington Post, which for her (as for many Republicans) epitomized the “liberal media,” led the early investigations into the scandal; hence Pat could easily dismiss their articles and editorials. Even as the accusations continued and the evidence mounted of widespread wrongdoing, Pat believed in her husband’s innocence. The problems arose, she told herself, because of Haldeman and Ehrlichman. Again, it was easy to accept their responsibility for the crimes rather than blame her husband (Nixon, 1978: 845–846; Eisenhower, 1986: 366–368). Pat continued her defiant defense of Dick until the bitter end. She snapped at reporters who questioned her, asserted that people

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outside the elite inner circles of society did not care about the accusations, and even argued against his resignation. Her biographers agree that Pat learned the details of the scandal along with the rest  of America. The differences emerge in  the discussions of her reactions to Watergate. David calls it a “time of mourning,” while Caroli emphasizes Pat’s sense of failing her  husband. Troy marvels at her “professional[ism]” in handling the escalating crisis, while Swift argues that Nixon deliberately kept the truth from her and that she continued to believe in him. I argue that she dealt with her anger at Dick and the situation as she always did, by retreating into herself (David, 1978: 184; Caroli, 1987: 252; Troy, 2000: 201; Swift, 2014: 325; Brennan, 2011: 160–165). Despite Pat’s stoicism and determination, the Watergate scandal took a toll on them both, eventually affecting both their bodies and their legacies. After over two years of upheaval, in August of 1974, the president realized that he did not have the support in  Congress to stave off impeachment. The  court‐ordered release of the June 23, 1972 “smoking gun” tape (which proved that the president ordered the CIA to cover up the break‐in of democratic headquarters) convinced many of his supporters that he should resign. Members of his family, however, continued to profess their belief in him and only reluctantly accepted his decision to leave office. In the immediate aftermath of the resignation, Nixon faced the threat of arrest and lawsuits. President Gerald Ford’s pardon removed the threat of arrest, but did not forestall other legal actions. Most significantly, Nixon’s health deteriorated to a point where he was hospitalized and placed in intensive care due to a severe phlebitis attack. Pat nursed him back to health (Nixon, 1978: 1057–1062, 1073; Eisenhower, 1986: 432–439). The Nixons’ last two years in Washington undermined Pat’s health as well. She lost

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weight; she started smoking more; she felt more isolated than ever in the White House. Despite the fact that she continued to fulfill her duties as first lady and expressed her belief in her husband, she could not recapture the joy of her pre‐Watergate days. The couple’s last days in the White House required all of Pat’s legendary endurance and pride. Although the move to California returned her to the status of private citizen, it did not remove the p ­ rying eyes of reporters, the hateful editorials, or the limitations on her movements. In fact the resignation deprived her of the best parts of her life in politics—the travel and the ability to help people—and left only the worst aspects— invasions of privacy and attacks on her family. The strain of the resig­nation, Dick’s hospitalization, the continuation of the legal battles, and, most importantly, the years of smoking even­tually led to a stroke in 1976. Pat recovered from the stroke, but her health remained delicate (Brennan, 2011: 166–167, 171–174). While her husband worked on rebuil­ding his reputation in the aftermath of the Watergate scandals, Pat spent her last years  out of the  limelight, enjoying her grandchildren. When the California house became too big and too lonely, the couple moved to New York City, and then to a suburb in New  Jersey, to be closer to their daughters’ families. Pat rarely made ­public appear­ ances, although magazines such as Good Housekeeping continued to mention her as “one of the 10 most admired women in the  world” (quoted in Brennan, 2011: 176). In 1993 she succumbed to emphysema and  lung cancer (Brennan, 2011: 176). Ironically, even in death, she continued to help her husband’s image. The footage of his emotional breakdown at Pat’s funeral humanized a man whom many Americans characterized as a villain. For many scholars and journalists, that image of Nixon crying at his wife’s funeral summed up her life. Focusing solely on the former president, editorialists wrote of

her victimization, of her unhappiness and her dislike of politics. They ignored her in her own obituaries, giving her no voice in the decisions she had made. In doing so, they lost the story of the way a poor girl from a small town became an unlikely, but important, first lady. Pat, however, never forgot where she came from, who had helped her achieve the office of first lady, or how hard she had worked to get there. A life in politics might not have been her first choice of a career, but she was determined to make the best of it. To that end, Pat used all of the resources at her disposal in order to bring into the limelight the everyday Americans who worked hard, as she had. She brought this same spirit to her world travels, insisting on meeting not just with world leaders, but with ordinary citizens as well. In the process, she succeeded in expanding the role of the president’s spouse. Few contemporaries or historians realized the precedents that she had set. The Watergate scandals cloaked all other aspects of the administration. Even Pat became one more victim, rather than a person in her own right. What she accomplished remained behind the veil of her image as the first lady most known for her hatred of politics. Note 1 For all the documentary material cited in this chapter, see the Appendix at the end.

Appendix: Primary Source Collections • Gwen King Papers. National Archives and Records Administration, College Park, Maryland. • Jack and Helene Drown Papers. Richard M. Nixon Presidential Library, Yorba Linda, California. • Patricia Ryan Nixon Papers. Richard M. Nixon Presidential Library, Yorba Linda, California.



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• Susan Porter Papers. National Archives and Records Administration, College Park, Maryland. References Ambrose, S. E. 1987. Nixon: The Education of a Politician 1913–1962. New York: Simon & Schuster. Boller, P. F. 1988. Presidential Wives. New York: Oxford University Press. Brennan, M. C. 2008. Wives, Mothers, and the Red Menace: Conservative Women and the Crusade Against Communism. Boulder, CO: University Press of Colorado. Brennan, M. C. 2011. Pat Nixon: Embattled First Lady. Lawrence: University Press of Kansas. Brodie, F. M. 1981. Richard Nixon and the Shaping of His Character. New York: W. W. Norton. Caroli, B. B. 1987. First Ladies. New York: Oxford University Press. David, L. 1978. The Lonely Lady of San Clemente: The Story of Pat Nixon. New York: Thomas Y. Crowell. Donaldson, G. A. 2007. The First Modern Campaign: Kennedy, Nixon, and the Election of 1960. Lanham, MD: Rowman & Littlefield. Eisenhower, J. N. 1986. Pat Nixon: The Untold Story. New York: Simon & Schuster. Friedan, B. 1963. The Feminine Mystique. New York: W. W. Norton. Gould, L., ed. 1996. American First Ladies: Their Lives and Legacies. New York: Garland. Haldeman, H. R. 1994. The Haldeman Diaries: Inside the Nixon White House. New York: G. P. Putnam’s.

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Hoff, J. 1994. Nixon Reconsidered. New York: Basic Books. Holt, M. I. 2007. Mamie Doud Eisenhower: The General’s First Lady. Lawrence: University Press of Kansas. Kutler, S. I. 1990. The Wars of Watergate: The Last Crisis of Richard Nixon. New York: Knopf. Marton, K. 2001. Hidden Power: Presidential Marriages That Shaped Our Recent History. New York: Pantheon Books. Montgomery, R. 1956. “New Pat Nixon Is Enchanting.” New York Journal–American, 21 August. Dolph Briscoe Center for American History, Austin, Texas. Nixon, P., and J. A. Morris. 1952. “I Say He’s a Wonderful Guy.” The Saturday Evening Post, September 6. Nixon, R. M. 1978. RN: The Memoirs of Richard Nixon. New York: Grosset & Dunlap. Nixon, R. M. 1962. Six Crises. New York: Doubleday. Rosen, R. 2000. The World Split Apart: How the Modern Women’s Movement Changed America. New York: Penguin Books. Swift, W. 2014. Pat and Dick: The Nixons, an Intimate Portrait of a Marriage. New York: Threshold Editions. Starr, K. 2002. Embattled Dreams: California in War and Peace, 1940–1950. New York: Oxford University Press. Taves, I. 1956. “Dick Nixon’s ‘Perfect Wife’: The Woman Nobody Really Knows.” RedBook: The Magazine for Young Adults, May: 30–33, 90, 92. Troy, G. 2000. Mr. and Mrs. President. Lawrence: University Press of Kansas. West, J. B. 1973. Upstairs at the White House: My Life with the First Ladies. New York: Coward, McCann & Geoghegan.

Chapter Thirty Two

Betty Ford: “When Ordinary Becomes Extraordinary” Myra G. Gutin

When Gerald Ford proposed to Betty Bloomer Warren in February 1948, he told her: “I’d like to marry you but we can’t get married until next fall and I can’t tell you why” (Gutin and Tobin, 1993: 664). The reason for the delay and secrecy was that Gerald Ford was about to announce his first campaign for the US House of Representatives. Betty Ford had never envisioned a life in politics (B. Ford, 1979). An aspiring dancer, she thought she would be settling down in Grand Rapids, Michigan with Ford, a lawyer who would practice his profession as they raised a family. Instead their early years together were spent in Washington, where her husband made a mark in politics while she raised their children and became involved in Cub Scouts, Little League, the Parent–Teacher Association (PTA), and her church, where she taught Sunday School. As a congressional spouse, she also became involved in the Eighty‐first Congressional Club and the National Federation of Republican Women. When Ford’s constituents visited Washington, Mrs. Ford would occasionally escort them around the capitol,

acting as a tour guide. Then, at fifty‐six, in the wake of Richard Nixon’s sudden resignation, Betty Ford found herself on the national stage, as first lady of the United States. Later she would be head of a world‐ renowned substance abuse treatment center. The young Betty Bloomer, who wanted nothing more than to be a professional dancer, saved thousands of lives on her way to becoming one of the most respected and admired women in the world. The following pages will explore her life, as well as her legacy for historians. Elizabeth Anne Bloomer, the third child and only daughter of William and Hortense Neahr Bloomer, was born in Chicago on April 8, 1918. The family moved to Denver, Colorado, then to Grand Rapids, Michigan— “the epitome of Middle America in the 1920s” (Greene, 2004: 1). William Bloomer was employed as a traveling salesman for the Royal Rubber Company and enjoyed enough success to give his family a comfortable life. The family, which included Betty’s older brothers Robert (“Bob”) and William Junior (“Bill”), lived in a fashionable section of Grand Rapids and spent summers in a

A Companion to First Ladies, First Edition. Edited by Katherine A. S. Sibley. © 2016 John Wiley & Sons, Inc. Published 2016 by John Wiley & Sons, Inc.



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cottage on Whitefish Lake in Northern Michigan. Betty described her childhood as “sunny and wonderful” (Ford and Chase, 1978: 21), though she would later lament that she never got to know her father because he spent so much time on the road. Hortense Bloomer was caring but demanding, and tended to be observant of social convention. “She insisted her daughter wear hat and gloves when they went shopping, and while Betty didn’t object to the accessories, she tried to explain to her mother that other girls went without them” (Gutgold and Hobgood, 2004: 328). Mrs. Bloomer remained adamant, and young Betty complied with social—and her mother’s—expectations. Betty was carefree until the accidental death of William Bloomer in 1934 from carbon monoxide poisoning. According to newspaper accounts, Bloomer had been making repairs to his automobile in the family garage on a hot, humid day, when he was overcome by fumes. Although his death was ruled accidental, there were suggestions of suicide. The rumors may have gained more traction when Betty was told at the funeral that her father was an alcoholic. Years later, Mrs. Ford came to understand that some of her mother’s absences from home coincided with her father’s road trips; her mother may have been called upon to deal with her father’s worsening alcohol‐related problems. She learned later that her older brother Bob was an alcoholic too (Marton, 2001: 211). From the age of eight, Betty had always been captivated by dance and harbored hopes of becoming a professional dancer. At  the Calla Travis School of Dance she met the girl who would become her closest friend: Lillian Fisher. Fisher remembered that Betty had talent: “She was very, very graceful. She [could] kick. She could pirouette” (Fisher, 2010). Later, Betty would move on to Calla Travis’s advanced program and become a teacher in the school. When she graduated from high school, Betty wanted to go to New York and try to

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get a job in a dance company, but her mother told her that this was unacceptable: she could not go until she was twenty years old. A compromise was struck: Betty was permitted to attend the Bennington School of Dance, held at Bennington College in Vermont, during the summers of her eighteenth and nineteenth years. It was highly unusual in 1936 for a young woman to assert her independence and become involved in a major artistic endeavor without parental supervision. Such independence provided a blueprint for Betty Ford’s activism later in her life. At Bennington, Betty danced for eight hours a day under the tutelage of modern dance doyenne Martha Graham. Graham was a stern taskmaster, but Betty idolized her. She wrote: “I worshipped her as a goddess … she was a tough disciplinarian; believe me, if you got her knee in your back when you weren’t sitting up straight enough during an exercise, you never forgot it” (Ford and Chase, 1978: 24). After her second summer, Betty was invited to New York to become a student at Graham’s dance school. In New York Betty shared an apartment with her Bennington roommate Natalie Harris. To support herself, Betty became a model for the John Robert Powers Agency, modeling hats, dresses, and furs. She took dance classes at night. Harris was eventually selected to dance in Graham’s main troupe; Betty was asked to join the auxiliary group and on one occasion performed at Carnegie Hall (Pope, 2001: 364). Graham told Betty that she had talent but, if she wanted to succeed as an artist, she would have to give up all of her “extra‐curricular” pursuits, dating, modeling, and carousing with friends. Mrs. Ford later lamented: “I guess I was somewhat deficient in the dedication department” (Ford and Chase, 1978: 30). About the same time, Betty’s mother, now Mrs. Godwin—for she had remarried after the death of her husband—arrived in New York. She had never been enthusiastic about her daughter’s living in that city with

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a commitment to a professional dance career, and she persuaded Betty to return to Grand Rapids for six months. If things did not work out at home, the young dancer could return to New York. Discouraged about not being promoted to the principal Graham dance company, Betty agreed to the arrangement. Back home, “Grand Rapid’s own Martha Graham” taught dance and became fashion coordinator for Herpolsheimer’s department store. She renewed acquaintances with an elementary school classmate, William “Bill” Warren; Betty’s parents were not enthusiastic about him; but, when the couple decided to get married a few months later, the ceremony took place in the Godwins’ home. Bill had difficulty holding a steady job, and the Warrens wandered from Ohio to New York and back to Grand Rapids. Bill liked to frequent bars with his friends, and Betty became dissatisfied with her husband’s attitude and with their life together. The marriage lasted for five years. Court documents list “extensive repeated cruelty” as the reason for the divorce; Mrs. Ford took $1 as a settlement. For someone who is candid in her autobiography, her assessment here is terse: “I didn’t fail, but it’s a long time ago and nothing’s gained by going into the details” (Ford and Chase, 1978: 43). At twenty‐nine years of age, Betty thought she might do something in the fashion field and considered moving to Rio de Janeiro, to pursue this career (Ford and Chase, 1978: 43). In the fall of 1947, just as her divorce was becoming final, Betty met Gerald Ford. Ford was considered one of the most eligible bachelors in Grand Rapids at the time. Betty had heard about him for years and had been introduced to him on a few occasions, but the two had never gotten to know each other. Ford had been a football star at South High School in Grand Rapids and, later, at the University of Michigan. He had served in the US navy during World War II, had gone on to Yale Law School, and was practicing at a well‐respected firm.

Their first meeting made little impression on the young lawyer. As Ford later wrote, “I had no idea someone special had come into my life” (G. Ford, 1979: 63). Although they started dating, Betty and Jerry made it clear to each other that neither was interested in marriage. Nevertheless, they made an attractive couple, enjoyed each other’s company, and over the months became closer. Mrs. Ford wrote: “We’d agreed not to get serious, but now I found myself wondering if I was going to ruin everything by falling in love with a man who didn’t want me to love him” (Ford and Chase, 1978: 49). The same thing was happening to Gerald Ford. While away on a skiing vacation he realized how much he cared (G. R. Ford, 1979: 65). Despite Ford’s shyness, he proposed to Betty in February 1948 and she accepted his proposal. Ford was about to announce his candidacy for Congress as a Republican. The primary was in September; their wedding would have to wait until he finished campaigning. Betty commented that, when her fiancé told her that he was running for Congress, she really did not know what that implied: “I was very unprepared to be a political wife, but I really didn’t worry because I didn’t think he was going to win” (Ford and Chase, 1978: 55). Betty helped out during the primary campaign by stuffing envelopes for him. Ford won the primary, and he and Betty were married on October 15, 1948. Although his election to Congress was virtually assured (Grand Rapids was solidly conservative and Republican in 1948 and remains so), Ford had to campaign just the same. It became part of family lore that Jerry, who had been campaigning all day, showed up for his wedding, dressed quickly, and forgot to change his dusty brown shoes, which earned him a rebuke from his mother. Just before the ceremony, Janet Ford, Betty’s soon‐to‐be sister‐in‐law, warned her: “You won’t have to worry about other women, Jerry’s work will be the other woman” (Ford and Chase, 1978: 57).



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Family lore got an additional installment when the newlyweds spent their first day together attending the Michigan– Northwestern football game in Ann Arbor and on that same night journeyed to Owosso, Michigan, to hear a speech by republican presidential nominee Thomas E. Dewey. It was an indication of things to come. On November 2 Ford was elected to his first term in the House. Mrs. Ford observed: “We came to Washington for two years, and stayed for twenty‐eight” (Ford and Chase, 1978: 61). Years as a congressional wife followed. Betty took a public speaking class, campaigned for her husband every two years, and escorted visiting constituents around the capital. She also did some fundraising for the American Cancer Society. For the most part she was a very busy mother. Four children were born in seven years. Michael was born in 1950, John (“Jack”) in 1952, Steven in 1956, and Susan in 1957. Mrs. Ford was essentially a single parent, as her spouse was frequently away from home attending meetings and campaigning for republican candidates for as many as two hundred nights a year. His ultimate goal was to become Speaker of the House, and his nonstop travel was a way of building a national network of support; his wife was not invited to go along on these trips. Betty found herself to be both mother and father to her growing children. She joked that she had made so many trips to the local hospital emergency room with her children that the family car could make the trip on its own (Caroli, 1995: 256). Even though they built a new home in Alexandria, Virginia and she had help with housekeeping and the children, Gerald Ford’s increasing absences took a toll on his wife. She was resentful of his nonstop travel and of being left behind. Her unhappiness coincided with the emerging Women’s Movement. When asked about an important influence in her life, Mrs. Ford readily responded, “My mother,” and added that her children should reply the same way, because “their father’s always away” (Caroli, 1995: 256).

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In 1964 Mrs. Ford awoke with terrible pain in her neck. Nobody knew the origin of the problem, but the injury may have occurred when she reached across a counter or was hanging curtains at home—she was never certain about the cause. She was diagnosed with a pinched nerve in her neck, as well as with arthritis. In constant pain, she found movement difficult and became unable to dance (she was still taking dance classes at the time). She was hospitalized, put in traction and given medications, all with little success. On the advice of her neurologist, Mrs. Ford began seeing a psychiatrist twice a week during this period, in order to build up her feelings of self‐worth. She realized that all of her efforts had been channeled to the children and her husband and there was little or no time for Betty herself. The psychiatrist convinced her that things had to change. Mrs. Ford acknowledged: “I was a little beaten down and he [the psychiatrist] built up my ego” (Ford, 1975). While this process took time, one result was that Betty’s desire for a more normal family life was finally heard in her marriage. After almost twenty‐five years of Gerald’s being in the House, the Fords decided that 1972 would be the year of his final campaign. They would return to Grand Rapids and he would practice law. However, these plans were derailed when President Richard Nixon called Ford in 1973 and asked him to succeed the disgraced Spiro Agnew, who had had to resign as vice president, under charges of having accepted bribes while serving as Baltimore county executive, governor of Maryland and vice president. Mrs. Ford was surprised, although she had considered the possibility that her husband would be the president’s choice because of his well‐earned reputation for honesty, integrity, and life‐ long service to the Republican Party. Ford agreed to be vice president and Betty Ford became second lady; but, according to former speechwriter Robert T. Hartmann, she was ambivalent about

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her husband’s new job. When Nixon extended congratulations to Betty Ford before a national television audience in the East Room of the White House, she said in a stage whisper: “Congratulations or condolences?” (Hartmann, 1980: 27). Mrs. Ford told reporters that she hoped to advocate for the arts and for dance. She would also decorate Admiralty House, the new residence of the vice president. One reporter noted that the new second lady was forthright and particularly focused on women’s issues. “Unlike some famous men in Washington, Mrs. Ford will tell you what she thinks. She considers herself a feminist, a supporter of the Equal Rights Amendment and a believer in federal assistance to day care centers” (quoted in Paterson, 1973: 6). Meanwhile, the June 1972 break‐in at the offices of the Democratic National Committee had produced the Watergate scandal; despite his continuous protestations of innocence, it became clear that President Nixon was going to be impeached and tried in the US Senate for his connection with this burglary and the ensuing cover‐up. All the same, Mrs. Ford told an interviewer that she never really believed that her husband would go to the White House (B. Ford, 1979). In her autobiography she commented that she started to become nervous when she drove past the White House and saw pickets that read “Pick out your curtains Betty,” an allusion to the fact that, in due course, Gerald Ford would become president and Betty Ford would become first lady (Ford and Chase, 1978: 152). To avoid prosecution, and also because, in his own words, he had lost his base of support, Richard Nixon resigned the presidency on August 8, 1974. Telling the country that he was beholden to no man and to only one woman (Public Papers of the Presidents of the United States, 1975), Gerald Ford assumed the presidency. This was the first time in history that a president had referred to a first lady in an

inaugural address (Beasley, 2012: 125). According to one source, as Mrs. Ford held the Bible for her husband to swear his oath, she thought: “My God, what a job I’ve got to do” (Truman, 1995: 132). Lewis Gould (1984) points out that the rushed circumstances that brought the Fords to the White House and their brief time in office did not provide sufficient opportunity for Betty Ford to develop a formal White House project. Still, at the outset it seemed that her new position would provide opportunities for Mrs. Ford. She was considered “a breath of fresh air” by the reporters who had covered her predecessor, Pat Nixon. In contrast to Mrs. Nixon’s more reticent approach, Mrs. Ford held a press conference in front of 150 reporters just twenty‐six days after becoming first lady, and promised that she would be active, advocating for the arts, for underprivileged Americans, and for mentally challenged children. It was also at this press conference that she called for the passage of the Equal Rights Amendment. Mrs. Ford’s press conference was the first one given by a first lady since Eleanor Roosevelt’s term (although both Bess Truman and Mamie Eisenhower had one brief press conference each in 1945 and 1953 respectively). Unlike Mrs. Roosevelt’s press gatherings, however, which were held only for women and were more informal, Betty Ford’s meeting took place in front of a full phalanx of media representatives. According to United Press International Chief White House Correspondent Helen Thomas, Mrs. Ford “enchanted reporters from the outset with her frankness and strong stands on controversial subjects” (Thomas, quoted in Beasley, 2012: 127). Unfortunately her own health soon made continuing these conferences impossible. On September 26, 1974, Mrs. Ford went to the Bethesda Naval Hospital for a routine physical exam, and her physician found a lump in her right breast. A specialist was called in for further examination; nothing was said to the first lady. Later that day, the



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White House physician, Admiral William Lukash, told the president that the Bethesda doctors had found a suspicious marble‐sized lump in his wife’s right breast. It is surprising, if not astonishing, that Lukash and Dr. Richard Thistlewaite, the chairman of surgery at the George Washington University Medical School, did not tell the first lady about the results of her tests; instead they told the president, and the triumvirate then informed the first lady about the lump and the suggested course of treatment. The doctors recommended that Mrs. Ford have a biopsy immediately; if the lump was malignant, the breast would have to be removed (Greene, 2004: 4). The Fords spoke to their children about the situation, but there was no public announcement of the impending surgery. On September 27, both the president and the first lady maintained their regular schedules, including a Salvation Army luncheon, the dedication of the Lyndon Baines Johnson Memorial Grove along the Potomac River, and a tour of the private rooms of the White House for former First Lady Lady Bird Johnson and her daughters. That evening, Mrs. Ford checked into Bethesda for her surgery, which was scheduled for the next day. The lump was malignant; and, as was current practice at the time, a radical mastectomy was performed, removing Mrs. Ford’s right breast and some of the surrounding muscle as well as three lymph nodes. “Mrs. Ford later told a reporter that ‘even though they said they were going to do a biopsy, I knew really that they would have to remove the breast’” (Greene, 2004: 47). It was decided that she would undergo chemotherapy by oral means, trying to prevent the spread of cancer. For Gerald Ford, “receiving the news was ‘the lowest and loneliest moment’ of his presidency; he sat down at his desk and cried” (Pope, 2001: 369). Given that the year was 1974, if Mrs. Ford had decided that she wanted to remain silent about her mastectomy, she would have been

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forgiven. As John Robert Green writes: “Had Betty Ford not opened her mouth about breast cancer after her operation, the impact of her case would still be significant,” because she was first lady (Green, 2004: 49). In the past, the illnesses of first ladies had almost always been dealt with in the most discreet manner. In 1922 Florence Harding had widely publicized her bout with nephritis and was gratified when a large segment of the population followed her case and prayed for her (Sibley, 2009). However, this was the exception rather than the rule. Nellie Taft’s stroke and Mamie Eisenhower’s problems with tinnitus were not subjects of press speculation. Things began to change in August 1963, when Jacqueline Kennedy gave birth to Patrick Bouvier Kennedy by emergency caesarean section, and Patrick died two days later. The press coverage was considerable, yet there was still a sense of restraint in the public discussion of a private tragedy. Mrs. Ford’s decision, at a time when cancer was often discussed in hushed tones and breast cancer was considered especially delicate, would change assumptions about the role of the first lady and would transform her image into that of a woman who could show both her vulnerability and her strength in the face of a daunting disease and could serve as an example for others. Betty Ford made a conscious decision to go public with the discussion of her breast cancer. As she told reporter Morley Safer on the television news program 60 Minutes some months later, “I felt that if I had it, many other women had it and I thought … if I don’t make this public, then their lives will be gone” (Ford, 1975). In her autobiography, Mrs. Ford recalled: “Lying in the hospital, thinking of all those women going for cancer checkups because of me, I’d come to recognize the power of the woman in the White House. Not my power, but the power of the position, a power that could be used to help” (Ford and Chase, 1978: 142).

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Dr. Barron Lerner, a doctor who studied medical care for celebrities, writes that at the time of Mrs. Ford’s diagnosis women and some doctors were calling for a less aggressive procedure than the radical mastectomy in dealing with breast cancer, but, as the president’s wife, the first lady received the more traditional procedure (Hartocollis, 2014). There is no information regarding possible surgical alternatives offered to the first lady; a radical mastectomy is rarely performed today. Modified mastectomy is less disfiguring and equally effective in treating breast cancer. Mrs. Ford was fifty‐six years old when she underwent breast surgery and was hospitalized for thirteen days. In 2015 some patients would go home on the very day of the breast ­surgery, but the average stay for a simple mastectomy is of twenty‐ four to forty‐eight hours—or somewhat longer if they elect to have breast reconstruction (Medlineplus, 2015). In spite of the fact that Mrs. Ford was popular and well liked, there were concerns about how the public would feel about a breast cancer patient as first lady. Those were indeed the dark ages of breast cancer treatment and epidemiology. At the time of Mrs. Ford’s mastectomy, some credibility was still accorded the theory that cancer was spread by a virus. Moreover, there was discrimination against cancer patients, though this is generally forgotten. Mrs. Ford need not have worried about such reactions; she was embraced immediately by the public as fifty‐five thousand cards, letters, and telegrams arrived for her along with flowers, religious items, and gifts—though the White House requested that the latter should be replaced by donations to the American Cancer Society. The response was so massive that an office of cancer communications was organized. The Gerald R. Ford Library (GRF) in Ann Arbor, Michigan retains those letters sent to Mrs. Ford; most of them, nearly 85 percent, came from women. The letters c­onveyed good

wishes, religious sentiments, and, most prominently, fears (Borrelli, 2001). In an interview with Betty Beale of the Washington Star on November 17, 1974— Mrs. Ford’s first interview after the mastectomy—she said: “I feel I have saved many (lives)” (O’Neill, 1974–1977). “The New York Times noted that thousands of women were scheduling appointments at free breast‐cancer detection centers because of the publicity generated by Mrs. Ford’s surgery” (Gutin, 1989: 132). Among those who were probably saved by Betty Ford’s disclosure was Margarite “Happy” Rockefeller, the wife of Vice President Nelson Rockefeller. She had a double mastectomy within three weeks of Mrs. Ford’s surgery. Nancy Reagan, who would follow Betty Ford as first lady, had a modified mastectomy on October 18, 1987. Although she was not as outspoken about her breast cancer as Mrs. Ford, Mrs. Reagan also discussed her diagnosis, and requests for mammography rose (Nattinger, Hoffmann, and Howell‐Pelz, 1998). Certainly Betty Ford’s momentous decision to share her situation with the country had left an important legacy. Indeed, Mrs. Ford’s disclosures and subsequent actions advocating for both mammography and increased health information for women were groundbreaking. This was, after all, just four years after the publication of the pioneering women’s health compendium Our Bodies, Ourselves (Our Bodies Ourselves, 1970). The women’s health movement had first emerged in the 1960s, though major gains would not be realized for another two to three decades. In the 1970s, women’s efforts on behalf of their own health and treatment were still a very new, if not revolutionary idea. When she returned to her regular schedule, Mrs. Ford made good on her promise to be busy and involved. She was an active ceremonial presence in the White House too, welcoming visitors to her official home during her two and a half years in the



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executive mansion. She presided over 34 state dinners, and her schedule indicates that, in addition to the state occasions, she was involved in six hundred events. She sponsored public interest and charity events for organizations such as the Washington Hospital for Sick Children, Goodwill Industries and No Greater Love (Gutin and Tobin, 1993: 627). She enjoyed entertaining and said: “I decided if the White House was my fate, I might as well have a good time doing it.” Mrs. Ford also traveled extensively with the president. Five months into his presidency, on January 9, 1975, President Ford signed Executive Order 11832, which established a National Commission on the Observance of International Women’s Year. While doing so, he made the following announcement: “The Equal Rights Amendment, which I wholeheartedly endorse, has not yet been ratified by the number of states necessary to make it a part of our constitution. Let 1975, International Women’s Year, be the year that ERA is ratified.” He asked his wife whether she had anything she wanted to add. Mrs. Ford quipped: “I just want to congratulate you Mr. President. I am glad to see you have come a long, long way” (Public Papers of the Presidents of the United States, 1975: 26). The first lady’s comments were a prelude to her active involvement in the fight to ratify the Equal Right Amendment (ERA). As mentioned before, Mrs. Ford’s interest in women’s issues and in the ERA predated Gerald Ford’s presidency. She had left no doubt at her first White House press conference that she strongly supported the ERA and would campaign for its passage (Weidenfeld, 1974). The amendment, which also included provisions for enforcement, read: “Equality of rights under the law shall not be denied or abridged by the United States or by any state on account of sex.” If passed, the amendment would have eliminated gender‐ based discrimination.

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Betty Ford was no ideologue; she argued that women who wanted to remain at home should be allowed to do so. Being a housewife and a mother was a full‐time job, as she well knew from her own life. But, if women wanted to work outside the home, that should be their choice, she believed: I feel that the liberated woman is the woman who is happy doing whatever she’s doing whether it’s a job or as a housewife. It doesn’t make a bit of difference just so she inwardly feels that she is happy and she is liberated. (Ford, 1975)

Regardless of the choice they made, she felt that “women ought to have equal rights, equal social security, equal opportunities for education, an equal chance to establish credit” (Ford and Chase, 1978: 202). And, one might add, equal access to information as well— her own doctor, of course, had informed the president about her cancer diagnosis before telling Betty! Liz Carpenter, former press secretary and staff director for Lady Bird Johnson, had encouraged Betty Ford’s press secretary, Sheila Weidenfeld, to have Mrs. Ford take up the fight for ERA. Although she would not be as active as either Carpenter or Weidenfeld hoped, Mrs. Ford needed little persuading. As historian Betty Boyd Caroli points out, first ladies had been twisting arms since the days of Abigail Adams (Caroli, 1995: 260). Early in 1975, Mrs. Ford began telephoning legislators in states where ERA would be coming up for a vote, including Illinois, Missouri, North Dakota, Georgia, Nevada and Arizona, to let them know of her personal interest in the issue and to support their efforts. Weidenfeld noted: “She called state legislators, she called [Senator] Barry Goldwater, she called various other people to try and sway them” (Weidenfeld, 2010). Her approach was gentle, but definite and persuasive. Speaking to a woman legislator

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who represented a rural district in Missouri, she said: “I realize you’re under a lot of pressure from the voters today, but I’m calling to let you know that the President and I are considerably interested. I think the ERA is so important” (Caroli, 1995: 259). Reaction was almost immediate, as well as highly critical from some of the more conservative areas and voices in the country. Mrs. Ford vowed to continue lobbying nonetheless. She said: “I’m going to stick to my guns and will continue to do what I can as long as I feel I can be helpful” (“Mrs. Ford to Continue Equal Rights Lobbying,” 1975). Her mail strongly opposed her stand on ERA. Weidenfeld reported that responses were running three to one against the first lady’s stance. Mrs. Ford remained convinced that her position was the right one and reflected a much wider slice of opinion: “It’s those who are against (ERA) who are doing the writing. Those who are for it sit back and say ‘Good for her—push on” (“Mrs. Ford to Continue Equal Rights Lobbying,” 1975). During her appearance on 60 Minutes in August 1975, Mrs. Ford said: “I feel that the ERA ought to pass during our bicentennial years. What could be greater than that?” (Ford, 1975). On October 25, 1975, Mrs. Ford addressed the International Woman’s Year Congress. The speech was her major policy address on ERA, and she believed that it was the most important speech she gave during her tenure as first lady (Ford, 1975). A number of first ladies have given speeches that represented defining moments or gave them the opportunity to assert their commitment to a cause or concern. Barbara Bush spoke about choice and change for women in a commencement speech to the Wellesley College Class of 1990. Hillary Rodham Clinton gave an important speech on human rights to the 1995 International Women’s Year conference in Beijing, China. For Betty Ford, her special moment came in 1975. She told listeners:

The Equal Right[s] Amendment[,] when ratified[,] will not be an instant solution to women’s problems. It will not alter the fabric of the constitution—or force women away from their families. It will help knock down restrictions that have locked women into old stereotypes of behavior and opportunity. (“Mrs. Ford’s Speech to International Women’s Year Congress,” 1975)

She went on to say that ERA would offer options for women, but it was only a beginning. She had been fortunate enough to have had a professional dance career, yet she also defended those who made the decision to remain at home: “We have to take the ‘just’ out of ‘just’ a housewife and show pride in having made the home and family our life’s work.” In the conclusion of the speech, the first lady sounded an even broader call for unity: “On the eve of the nation’s third century, let us work to end the laws and remove the labels that limit the imagination and the options of men and women alike” (“Mrs. Ford’s Speech to International Women’s Year Congress,” 1975). Mrs. Ford brought her fight for equal rights directly to the president. She lobbied for her husband to appoint women to high‐ level positions within his administration. She had hoped that a woman would be appointed to the Supreme Court when a vacancy occurred, but President Ford selected Judge John Paul Stevens to serve on the high court. Mrs. Ford was more successful advocating for a woman to serve in her husband’s Cabinet, as Carla Hills was selected to be secretary of housing and urban development. By herself, Hills exceeded all the women who had served in the Kennedy, Johnson, and Nixon Cabinets, combined. One of Betty Ford’s great disappointments was that the ERA was not ratified during her husband’s presidency, nor has it been since. Though unsuccessful, her advocacy may have heightened understanding of



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the legislation, dispelling the cloud that surrounded women’s issues in general and the ERA in particular. While Mrs. Ford had been a strong advocate for cancer issues, urging Americans to have regular medical checkups, later in her White House tenure she shied away from greater involvement in cancer‐related activities. Ron Nessen, Gerald Ford’s press secretary, believed that “she didn’t want to be reminded of her close call” (Nessen, 1978: 22n). Still, she took time in the fall of 1976 to give two important addresses about it. Dedicating the M. D. Anderson Hospital and Tumor Institute in Houston, two years after her diagnosis and treatment, the first lady reminded her listeners of this special anniversary: “I celebrated, because I am happy, healthy, and grateful for the checkup that found cancer in time.” She added: “Part of the battle … is to fight the fear that accompanies the disease. At last we can speak openly about [it]” (“Mrs. Ford’s Comments: Dedication of M. D. Anderson Hospital and Tumor Institute,” 1976). Betty Ford had much to do with this important change of mindset. In December 1976, her last full month in the White House, she received the American Cancer Society’s Communicator of Hope Award and took the occasion to advocate for “the fight to alert women to the need for self‐care” as well (“Betty Ford Receives Cancer Society Award,” 1976). In spite of some later reticence, then, Mrs. Ford had made cancer detection and care part of the national conversation. As her work on the topic of cancer suggests, Betty Ford was not shy to tackle difficult topics, but she did not court contentious debate. Historically, first ladies have labored mightily not to create controversy that would distract the public’s attention from the president’s agenda and priorities. As a practical matter, the president might have to expend his political capital to clean up his spouse’s mess. Mrs. Ford therefore could hardly have desired or

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imagined that she was going to generate a firestorm and stoke passions when she agreed to a televised interview to celebrate the first‐year anniversary of the Ford administration in August 1975; but that was exactly what happened. At the urging of her Press Secretary Sheila Weidenfeld, who believed that 60 Minutes was one of the best produced shows on television, the first lady agreed to be interviewed by Morley Safer. Even though Weidenfeld characterized Mrs. Ford’s appearance as “open but not outspoken. Honest. She sounded just plain intelligent” (Weidenfeld, 1979: 162), the interview caused a furor. Mrs. Ford disclosed that she had sought help from a psychiatrist, was pro‐choice, supported the recent Roe vs. Wade decision that legalized abortion, had advocated for a woman on the Supreme Court, and expected that her children had smoked marijuana. Though spoken with feeling and honesty, in 1975 these sentiments flew in the face of traditional views about accepted and expected topics for first ladies. Mrs. Ford’s most provocative pronouncement, however, concerned the possibility that her daughter Susan might consider having an affair (Susan Ford was eighteen years old at the time of the broadcast). Morley Safer asked: “What if Susan Ford came to you and said, ‘Mother, I’m having an affair.’” Mrs. Ford responded: Well, I wouldn’t be surprised. I think she’s a perfectly normal human being like all young girls, if she wanted to continue, I would certainly counsel and advise her on the subject and I’d want to know pretty much about the young man she was planning to have the affair with, whether it was a worthwhile encounter or whether it was going to be one of those … She’s pretty young to have affairs. (Ford, 1975)

It certainly was an odd question to ask, but the response from the public was immediate and overwhelmingly negative for

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Betty. From August through October 1975, the White House received ten thousand letters of support and twenty‐three thousand letters of disapproval of Mrs. Ford’s comments. Many of the letters indicated that Mrs. Ford had lost their writers’ support for her husband and underlined current assumptions about proper decorum for first ladies (Gutin and Tobin, 1993: 625). One correspondent furiously admonished her for sharing personal opinions in a very public position. He wrote: “You are not an individual. You are, because of the position your husband has assumed, expected and unofficially required to be perfect! It is quite obvious you were never put in your place” (quoted in Gutin and Tobin, 1993: 623). Mrs. Ford was also censured by the Women’s Christian Temperance Union; and the Manchester Union‐Leader, one of the most conservative newspapers in the country, labeled her “A Disgrace to the White House” (Pope, 2001: 170). Weidenfeld noted that members of the presidential staff in the West Wing, too, were horrified by the interview. She said: Nobody [from the West Wing] would talk to me (Weidenfeld had encouraged Mrs. Ford to do the interview). What Mrs. Ford said was totally, totally misinterpreted. I thought it was a wonderful thing for families to understand that you should talk to your kids. You should be honest. It was all hypothetical. (Weidenfeld, 2010)

Mrs. Ford feared that she had become a political liability to her husband; in sexist terms, the Manchester Union Leader opined: “President Ford showed his lack of guts by saying he had long ago given up commenting on Mrs. Ford’s interviews. What kind of business is that?” (G. Ford, 1979: 307). It is interesting to note that, on a much earlier occasion, President Franklin D. Roosevelt had been excoriated for pronouncements made by First Lady Eleanor Roosevelt. His response was similar to President Ford’s.

He said: “Well, that’s my wife, I can’t do anything about her” (quoted in Smith, 2008: 402). As emotions cooled down, Mrs. Ford’s supporters praised her honesty and courage. She wrote a letter to those who had been critical of her statements, explaining: I wish it were possible for us to sit down together and talk, one to another. I consider myself a responsible parent. I know I am a loving one. We have raised our four children in a home that believes in and practices the enduring values of morality and personal integrity. As every mother and father knows, these are not easy times to be a parent. Our convictions are continually being questioned and tested by fads and fancies of the moment. (Weidenfeld, 1979: 188)

She also made the point that, on 60 Minutes, “the emotion of my words spoke to the need for [this] communication— rather than the specific issues we discussed.” One recipient of the letter was so impressed with its thoughtfulness that she turned it over to the Associated Press and the letter was subsequently printed in its entirety in the New York Times. Other newspapers printed excerpts (Weidenfeld, 1979: 187–189). Slowly the tide turned and, two months after 60 Minutes, a Harris poll showed a shift in opinion. The majority of Americans now supported Mrs. Ford and she was perceived as an asset to her husband (Thomas, 1975: 173). When Morley Safer requested an autographed photo of Mrs. Ford, she retained her sense of humor and wrote back with the keepsake: “‘To Morley—If there are any questions you forgot to ask—I’m grateful.’ Sincerely, Betty Ford” (Weidenfeld, 1979: 182). One of Mrs. Ford’s strengths as first lady was her ability to function as an effective communicator. She had decided that she was going to be more open to reporters’ queries than Pat Nixon was: “I did [decide



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to be more accessible] because many stories had been written about Mrs. Nixon referring to her as ‘Pat, the unavailable.’ They were unkind stories, and naturally, I was going to try and benefit from those criticisms of her” (B. Ford, 1979). Yet, despite a successful recovery from her illness, Mrs. Ford held only that one formal press conference, because Weidenfeld believed that they robbed the first lady of her freshness and spontaneity (Weidenfeld, 1982). Mrs. Ford saw reporters with some regularity all the same, and answered their questions at political or ceremonial events. She benefitted from the genuine affection of, and to a certain extent protection by, the press corps. She was always good for a colorful quotation and, according to Helen Thomas, “[s]he enchanted reporters from the outset with her frankness and strong stands on controversial issues” (Thomas, 1975: 221). The first lady commented: “I enjoyed the press. I was willing to accept a certain amount of criticism. They were surprised not to have me beat around the bush” (B. Ford, 1979). Mrs. Ford continued her communication efforts by delivering one hundred formal speeches during her two and half years in the White House. She had taken a public speaking course in high school and later was part of a group of congressional wives who took a similar course at the Capital Club. Everything else was “on the job training” for her. Mrs. Ford’s first lady speeches were written primarily by her speechwriter, Frances “Kay” Pullen, with occasional help from Press Secretary Sheila Weidenfeld. The two were an effective combination. Pullen was able to write in Mrs. Ford’s voice, and her speeches were like the first lady in character—straightforward and down‐to‐earth. The phrasing was simple, and personal experience and examples were stylistic hallmarks. Whatever the speeches lacked in sophisticated rhetorical devices, they more than made up for in warmth. While she admitted to stage fright, in time Mrs. Ford became adept at public speaking, though she always

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liked to have a text in case she became nervous. She could extemporize from a topic outline, and ad lib if the situation called for additions or deletions. She also developed skill in analyzing her listeners: “I think being able to detect the reaction of your audience, [if you should] delete something or jump to something else … is important” (B. Ford, 1979). Being a skilled speaker helped extend the reach of President Ford’s agenda, as the first lady was an effective and well‐liked surrogate who could “work a crowd.” Though their plan had been to leave Washington after finishing Richard Nixon’s term in 1977 (which was two years beyond their original plan of departure, after Gerald Ford’s 1973–1975 congressional term), Mrs. Ford well recognized that Gerald Ford enjoyed the presidency and wanted to win his own four years in office. As he recalled: “Betty released me from it (the pledge). She knew how I felt about being President. She thought the country needed me and she wanted me to run” (G. R. Ford, 1979: 294). Mrs. Ford campaigned for her husband both in the primaries against fellow Republican Ronald Reagan and later, in the general election against Democrat Jimmy Carter. One can only speculate as to her attitude at this point in her life. She wanted to spend more time with her husband, but she also understood his desire to win the election. More popular than him, Mrs. Ford received a positive 71 percent rating on the job she had done as first lady, as pollster Louis Harris confirmed. Campaign buttons appeared reading “Betty’s Husband for President in ’76,” “Betty for First Lady,” and “Keep Betty’s Husband in the White House.” Gerald Ford lost to Jimmy Carter in his bid for the presidency, in a close race, and some historians have suggested that Ford was defeated because Betty Ford was not well utilized during the campaign and in the last critical days prior to the election. It is difficult to understand why she was neglected, when

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one looks at Mrs. Ford’s high popularity ratings, except perhaps to speculate that some of the men in her husband’s campaign were of similar mind to those who had diminished the contributions of Pat Nixon in the previous administration (see Chapter  30 in this book). A sizeable binder titled “Campaign Strategy Plan, Campaign Media Plan, August 1976” discussed the themes, topics, and concerns of the upcoming presidential campaign in great detail. It is puzzling that there was no mention of Mrs. Ford in the notebook (“Campaign Strategy, Media Strategy,” 1976). The loss was a bitter one for the Michigander, who had devoted himself to restoring dignity to the office of the presidency in the wake of the Nixon débacle. However, in addition to the president’s unpopular pardon of Nixon (a decision supported publicly by Mrs. Ford), there were gaffes too, including his infamous conjecture about “no Soviet domination” in Eastern Europe. Betty’s more active presence could have mitigated the potency of some of these issues. Instead, her voice was heard delivering the concession speech; she would be the first first lady to deliver such an oration after Mr. Ford had lost his voice in the last hectic days of campaigning. Helen Thomas, former United Press International reporter, had a different perspective on Betty Ford’s action. She suggested that Gerald Ford was overcome with emotion and unable to admit defeat, and that Mrs. Ford stepped in and after telling her children to pull themselves together, thanked her husband’s campaign workers, and graciously wished the best for President Elect Carter (Thomas, 1978; B. Ford, 1979). Mrs. Ford never addressed Thomas’s assertion. If one is to gauge the former first lady’s reaction to the loss, perhaps her feelings are best contained in a comment she made to her daughter Susan: “You kids got a father back, and I got my husband back” (Ford and Chase, 1978: 272).

On January 20, 1977, the Fords left the White House, became private citizens, and retired to a home in Palm Springs, California, where they would live until a new house that they were building in Rancho Mirage, California would be ready. Mrs. Ford predicted that the post‐White House book she was writing, The Times of My Life (Ford and Chase, 1978), would end with a chapter about her husband’s electoral loss to Jimmy Carter and the couple’s return to private life; but things did not go as planned. The autobigraphy had to include a chapter titled “Long Beach” (1978: 280–293). Betty Ford’s enduring hope of having her husband’s full attention did not come to fruition. Gerald Ford resumed the peripatetic lifestyle of his congressional days. He played in golf tournaments, served on corporate boards, gave speeches, and spoke in support of fellow Republicans; he was not at home a great deal. Mrs. Ford was lonely and her drinking increased, exacerbated by prescription medication. Steven Ford recalled his mother sitting in front of the television set having “one drink, two drinks, three drinks” (Ford and Chase, 1978: 282). Mrs. Ford’s drinking and drug abuse had been years in the making. She had always enjoyed drinking; she mentions in her second book, Betty: A Glad Awakening, that she had imbibed her first drink at the age of 18, in 1936, more than forty years earlier (Ford and Chase, 1988: 33). For years she had been taking medication for muscle spasms in her neck and for arthritis, as noted above. Alcohol and drugs proved to be a potent combination. Weidenfeld commented that Mrs. Ford was occasionally unable to appear or fulfill certain duties while in the White House and, though she suspected that something was wrong, she received no confirmation from the White House physician or members of the staff. Barbara Walters observed that “Betty’s speech was heavy and slow” prior to a White House interview (Marton, 2001: 21).



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Family and friends watched in dismay as Mrs. Ford seemed to spiral downward in Palm Springs. Finally the Ford children spoke to their father about the situation. They agreed that an “intervention,” or a discussion to confront alcohol and drug dependency, was badly needed. Captain Joseph Pursch, the head of the Alcohol and Drug Rehabilitation Service in Long Beach, California, as well as Gerald Ford, the Ford children, and some friends participated in this difficult discussion. Initially, the former first lady was not receptive; she called the group “a bunch of monsters” (Nemy, 2011). She refused to acknowledge that she was an alcoholic. She said: “My makeup wasn’t smeared, I wasn’t disheveled, I behaved politely and I never finished off a bottle. How could I be an alcoholic?” (Marton, 2001: 211). All Mrs. Ford would confess to was overmedication, but later she acknowledged her twin addictions and admitted that she had experienced blackouts and had started to experience memory loss. A few days later, she voluntarily signed herself into Long Beach. As with her breast cancer, Mrs. Ford decided she was going to tell the public what she was doing, and this began by becoming a patient in a public facility. She wrote: “I could have gone to a private hospital, but I decided if I was going to go all the way as far as my treatment was concerned, it was better to do it publicly rather than to try and hide behind a silk sheet” (Ford and Chase, 1978: 283). While at Long Beach, Mrs. Ford issued a statement that she was an alcoholic. She observed: “It was a big step for me to write that, to let it be printed and broadcast and circulated, but it was only the first of many steps that I would have to take” (Ford and Chase, 1978: 285). To help his wife, Gerald Ford also quit drinking, and both the former president and his daughter Susan became part of a family therapy group. Grateful for having her family come to her rescue, Betty Ford emerged “clean” from Long Beach after twenty‐eight days of

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intensive therapy and the twelve‐step program of Alcoholics Anonymous. She had been heartened by the public response but had also realized that there were no treatment facilities that catered to women’s particular needs. At the time Mrs. Ford went into treatment, men were more likely to seek help “because they found their ability to make a living threatened”—while women, who could drink at home, were “hidden and protected by their families” (Ford and Chase, 1982: 147). Mrs. Ford wrote that female alcoholics had “more emotional problems, more health problems, more parenting problems … more suicide attempts than the alcoholic man” (Ford and Chase, 1982: 148). These particular problems were not addressed in treatment modalities then current. Together with her friend, fellow recovering alcoholic Leonard Firestone—former ambassador to Belgium and retired president of the California division of the Firestone Tire and Rubber Company—and Dr. James West, Mrs. Ford began to investigate the possibility of raising funds to build a facility that would be associated with the Eisenhower Medical Center in Rancho Mirage. Though the board of the medical center was initially reluctant to undertake such a major project, Mrs. Ford and Firestone convinced them that there was a need for a treatment center (Ford and Chase, 1988: 104–105) and for a program that addressed the needs of women. They were successful in fundraising and on October 3, 1982 dedicated the nonprofit Betty Ford Center. Dr. West became the center’s first medical director; Mrs. Ford was chairman of the board of directors. Though initially reluctant to have her name on the new center, identifying the institution with herself strengthened Betty’s resolve to be an involved and caring chair of its board. Moreover, her goal of a treatment facility that addressed the needs and concerns of women was also achieved: 50 percent of the beds in the center were set aside

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for women (National First Ladies Library, n.d.). The center’s philosophy was drawn from the 12‐step program of Alcoholics Anonymous and focuses on peer interaction and on learning to identify and express feelings (Nemy, 2011). Currently the Betty Ford Center (www.bettyfordcenter.org) offers a number of programs such as inpatient treatment, residential day treatment, young adult recovery, and intensive outpatient treatment. In 2014 the Betty Ford Center merged with the Hazelden Foundation to become the Hazelden Betty Ford Foundation. A new outpatient addiction treatment clinic opened in West Los Angeles in 2015. While she was busy speaking to potential donors and ensuring the success of the center, Mrs. Ford spent time with patients as well, affirming their life‐changing decision to get help. One former patient, Jean‐ Guy Pelletier, served as a volunteer for twenty‐three years and wrote about the ways in which the center and Betty Ford helped give back his life in his book Addicted to Betty Ford (Pelletier, 2013). Mrs. Ford stepped down from the chairmanship of the Betty Ford Center in 2005 and was succeeded by her daughter, Susan Ford Bales. Mrs. Ford continued her association with the center until a few years before her death. Former President Gerald Ford died in 2006; Betty Ford survived her husband by five years and passed on July 8, 2011. In 1984 historian Lewis Gould told the Modern First Ladies Conference at the Gerald R. Ford Presidential Library and Museum that Betty Ford’s legacy to the institution of the first lady “will likely be more in her example than in the success or failure of the causes she championed” (Gould 1984). Many years later, we know that Betty Ford’s actions, including publicly announcing her breast cancer and its treatment and her twin addictions, as well as founding a major rehabilitation facility, have saved thousands of lives and are certainly

evidence of the success of her causes. Mrs. Ford’s pronouncements on her afflictions came, moreover, at a time when admitting to either was only whispered about, and in many circles it was considered shameful. She helped to lift the veil and promote openness and discussion. At the same time, her advocacy of the ERA put her at the forefront of the women’s movement. The causes she championed were important and helped improve and extend the lives of people around the world. Mrs. Ford enjoyed great popularity as first lady. She also earned high ratings in the Siena Research Institute First Lady survey. The poll, which gathers the opinions of historians, political scientists, those who study the presidency, and those who research first ladies, rated Mrs. Ford as number nine among first ladies in 1982, as number six in 1993, and as number eight in 2014. Mrs. Ford has consistently ranked in the top ten and is in the company of her friend Lady Bird Johnson, and other distinguished first ladies like Hillary Rodham Clinton, Abigail Adams and Eleanor Roosevelt (The Siena Research Institute/C‐SPAN First Ladies Study, 2014). After the Nixon years, Mrs. Ford was a welcome change, a person who was very much attuned to the rhythms of the 1970s (Pope, 2001). Contemporary observers noted well her important contributions, as this chapter has highlighted. Though her White House tenure lasted for less than one thousand days, the times were momentous, and she took full advantage of the opportunity they offered. In her autobiography, Betty Ford wrote: “I am an ordinary woman who was called onstage at an extraordinary time” (Ford and Chase, 1978: x). Though Mrs. Ford recognized her own flaws and foibles, she never realized that she, too, was extraordinary. Her impact far exceeded the less than thirty months she was in office. Biographers like John Robert Greene (2004) have discussed her years in the White



betty ford:

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House, noting the importance of her public treatment of her medical conditions; scholars like Betty Boyd Caroli (1995) and Carl Sferrazza Anthony (1991) have also provided extensive coverage of Mrs. Ford’s White House years. Writer Kati Marton (2001) explored Mrs. Ford’s relationship as a political partner with her husband. At the same time, a range of shorter pieces have examined her rhetoric (Beasley, 2012; Gutgold and Hobgood, 2004), her public reception (Borrelli, 2001), and her work as a feminist first lady (Gutin and Tobin, 1993). Nonetheless, a full story of Betty Ford’s life and influence remains to be written. References Anthony, C. S. 1991. First Ladies: The Saga of the President’s Wives and Their Power, vol. 2: 1961–1990. Beasley, M. 2012. Women and the Washington Press: Politics, Prejudice and Persistence. Evanston: Northwestern University Press. “Betty Ford Receives Cancer Society Award.” 1976. Lewiston Evening Journal, December 2: Borrelli, M. 2001. “Competing Conceptions of the First Ladyship: Public Responses to Betty Ford’s 60 Minutes Interview.” Presidential Studies Quarterly 31 (3): 397–414. “Campaign Strategy, Media Strategy.” 1976. Robert Teeter papers, Box 54. Gerald R. Ford Presidential Library. Caroli, B. B. 1995. First Ladies. New York: Oxford University Press. Fisher, L. 2010. Interview with R. N. Smith for the Gerald R. Ford Foundation Oral History Project. Washington, DC. http://geraldrford foundation.org/centennial/oralhistory/lilian‐ fisher (accessed December 4, 2015). Ford, B. 1979. Personal unpublished interview with M. G. Gutin, July 17. Vail, CO. (Transcript in author’s possession.) Ford, B. 1975. Interview with M. Safer. CBS, 60 Minutes, August 10, 1975. Ford, B., and C. Chase. 1978. The Times of My Life. New York: Harper. Ford, B., and C. Chase. 1988. Betty: A Glad Awakening. New York: Harper.

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Ford, G. R. 1979. A Time to Heal: The Autobiography of Gerald Ford. New York: Harper and Row. Gould, L. L. 1984. Keynote Address to the Modern First Ladies, Private Lives and Public Duties. Speech delivered on April 19 at the Gerald R. Ford Museum, Grand Rapids, Michigan. Greene, J. R. 2004. Betty Ford. Candor and Courage in the White House. Lawrence: University Press of Kansas. Gutgold, N. D., and L. B. Hobgood. 2004. “Betty Ford: A Certain Comfort from a Candid First Lady.” In Inventing a Voice: The Rhetoric of First Ladies of the Twentieth Century, edited by M. M. Wertheimer, 325– 340. New York: Rowman & Littlefield. Gutin, M. G. 1989. The President’s Partner: The First Lady in the Twentieth Century. Westport, CT: Greenwood. Gutin, M. G., and L. E. Tobin. 1993. “‘You’ve Come a Long Way Mr. President’: Betty Ford as First Lady.” In Gerald R. Ford and the Politics of Post‐Watergate America, edited by B. J. Firestone and A. Ugrinsky, vol. 2, 623–632. Westport: Greenwood. Hartmann, R. T. 1980. Palace Politics: An Inside Portrait of the Ford Years. New York: McGraw‐ Hill. Hartocollis, A. 2014. “The Famous Can Present a Minefield for Doctors.” New York Times, September 21. Marton, K. 2001. Hidden Power: Presidential Marriages That Shaped Our Recent History. New York: Pantheon Books. Medlineplus. 2015. “Mastectomy.” November 19. https://www.nlm.nih.gov/medlineplus/ ency/article/002919.htm (accessed December 4, 2015). “Mrs. Ford’s Comments: Dedication of M. D. Anderson Hospital and Tumor Institute, Houston, Texas, October 2, 1976.” Mary Frances Pullen papers, Box 2. Gerald R. Ford Presidential Library. “Mrs. Ford’s Speech to the International Women’s Year Congress, October 25, 1975, Cleveland, Ohio.” Mary Frances Pullen papers, Box  3. Gerald R. Ford Presidential Library. “Mrs. Ford to Continue Equal Rights Lobbying.” 1975. New York Times, February 15: 31.

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National First Ladies Library. n.d. “Betty Ford Biography.” http://www.firstladies.org/ biographies/firstladies.aspx?biography=39 (accessed November 16, 2015). Nattinger, A., R. G. Hoffmann, and A. Howell‐ Pelz. 1998. “Effect of Nancy Reagan’s Mastectomy on Choice of Breast Surgery by US Women.” Journal of the American Medical Association 279: 762–766. Nemy, E. 2011. “Betty Ford, Former First Lady Dies at 93.” New York Times, July 8. Nessen, R. 1978. It Sure Looks Different from the Inside. Chicago: Playboy Press. O’Neill, E. F. 1974–1977. First Ladies Staff. General Folder‐Healthy. Gerald R. Ford Presidential Library. Our Bodies Ourselves. 1970. Our Bodies, Ourselves: Women and Their Bodies: A Course. Boston Women’s Health Collective. http:// www.ourbodiesourselves.org/cms/assets/ uploads/2014/04/Women‐and‐Their‐ Bodies‐1970.pdf (accessed November 12, 2015). Paterson, K. 1973. “I Am Just Plain Betty Ford.” Ann Arbor News, December 6: 8. Pelletier, J.‐G. 2013. Addicted to Betty Ford. Self‐ published. Pope, J. 2001. “Betty Ford.” In American First Ladies: Their Lives and Legacy, edited by L. L. Gould, 363–376. New York: Routledge. Public Papers of the Presidents of the United States: Gerald R. Ford, 1974–1977, vol 1. 1975. Washington, DC: US Government Printing Office. Sibley, K. A. S. 2009. First Lady Florence Harding: Behind the Tragedy and Controversy. Lawrence: University Press of Kansas. The Siena Research Institute/C‐SPAN First Ladies Study. 2014. http://webdev.siena. edu/assets/files/news/Appendix_A_Overall_ Survey_Results.pdf (accessed December 3, 2015).

Smith, J. E. 2008. FDR. New York: Random House. Thomas, H. 1975. Dateline: White House. New York: Macmillan. Thomas, H. 1978. Personal unpublished interview with M. G. Gutin, June 6. Washington, DC. (Transcript in author’s possession.) Truman, M. 1995. First Ladies. New York: Random. Weidenfeld, S. 1974. “Mrs. Ford’s Press Conference,” September 4. Files of Sheila R. Weidenfeld, Daily Events File, 1974–1976, Box 1. Gerald R. Ford Library. Weidenfeld, S. 1979. First Lady’s Lady: With the Fords at the White House. New York: Putnam’s. Weidenfeld, S. 1982. Interview with M. G. Gutin, July 9. Washington, DC. Weidenfeld, S. 2010. Unpubished interview with  R. N. Smith for the Gerald R. Ford Foundation  Oral History Project. April 14. Washington, DC. http://geraldrfordfoundation. org/centennial/oralhistory/sheila‐weidenfeld (accessed December 5, 2015).

Further Reading Dismore, D. 2014. “September 4, 1974: Betty Ford Speaks up for the ERA at Her First Press Conference.” Feminist Majority Foundation Blog, September 4. https://feminist.org/ blog/index.php/2014/09/04/september‐ 4‐1974‐betty‐ford‐speaks‐up‐for‐the‐era‐at‐ her‐first‐press‐conference (accessed November 19, 2015). Harris, L. 1976. “Betty Ford a Strong Asset.” Detroit Free Press, August 9: 31. Howard, J. 1974. “Forward Day by Day.” New York Times Magazine, December 8: 36–94. Tobin, L. E. 1990. “Betty Ford as First Lady: A  Woman for Women.” Presidential Studies Quarterly 20: 761–767.

Chapter Thirty Three

Eleanor Rosalynn Smith Carter* Kristin L. Ahlberg

On January 20, 1977, President Jimmy Carter and First Lady Rosalynn Carter walked hand in hand down Pennsylvania Avenue, en route to the White House from the Capitol, where Carter had taken the oath of office earlier that afternoon. The election to the presidency of this Washington outsider symbolized a desire to break with the recent American past—one tarnished by the political machinations of Watergate and the Vietnam War. Carter pledged that his administration would not repeat the mistakes of his immediate predeces­ sors. He would restore a sense of morality to the conduct of domestic and foreign policy. The woman walking beside him that day would also come to symbolize change, even as she embodied continuity. Rosalynn Carter had, through a variety of circumstances, deve­ loped the strength and good judgment needed to function effectively as a political partner. She had identified a variety of causes as important and sought to use her position as first lady to advocate for reform. Her hus­ band valued her counsel and, trusting her implicitly, used her as a diplomat and as a capable member of his administration. In these roles, Mrs. Carter flummoxed a press corps that was used to first ladies’ either championing a specific, understandable issue

or retreating into the background. And yet Mrs. Carter, despite her independence, made it clear that her work was an extension of her husband’s. This move had the potential of alienating others who, especially in the context of the growing women’s movement, wanted the first lady to serve as an independent voice. In the more than thirty years since Jimmy and Rosalynn Carter departed from the White House, scholars have striven to understand the unique role Rosalynn played during a period of continued social and political upheaval. A review of the memoirs, autobio­ graphies, biographies, and articles detailing the first lady’s life reveals much consensus, specifically as pertaining to the idea that Jimmy and Rosalynn Carter functioned as political partners and that the partnership served as the leitmotif for her tenure as first lady. Historiography Roughly around the time President Jimmy Carter left office in January 1981, historians and political scientists began legitimizing the history and role of first ladies as a topic seri­ ous enough for further scholarship. Although specific first ladies had received attention

*NOTE The views expressed in this chapter are the author’s own and not necessarily those of the US Department of State or the US government. All sources used are publicly available. A Companion to First Ladies, First Edition. Edited by Katherine A. S. Sibley. © 2016 John Wiley & Sons, Inc. Published 2016 by John Wiley & Sons, Inc.

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from authors, much of this writing was a­necdotal and not necessarily based on archival sources. In 1997, political scientist Robert P. Watson, in an article entitled “The First Lady Reconsidered: Presidential Partner and Political Institution,” observed that presi­ dential scholarship prior to the 1980s had neglected the contributions of first ladies (Watson, 1997). During that decade, how­ ever, the field of first lady scholarship emerged, aided by the increasing availability of these women’s personal papers, which were housed at the presidential libraries. An April 1984 conference on first ladies—titled “Modern First Ladies: Private Lives and Public Duties,” held at the Gerald R. Ford Museum in Grand Rapids, Michigan, and attended by several former first ladies—also served as a catalyst (Watson 1997: 805–806). As the field of first lady scholarship devel­ oped, scholars stressed that, while first ladies had gained public recognition as a result of their husbands’ political careers, they deserved to be evaluated on their own merits as well. Their backgrounds, educational achievements, campaign roles, and platforms (or lack thereof) while in the White House were significant and deserved the same rig­ orous scholarly treatment as did their hus­ bands’ backgrounds. Historian Lewis Gould, in a keynote address delivered at the 1984 Ford Museum conference that was subse­ quently published as “Modern First Ladies in Historical Perspective” (Gould, 1985), advocated for a greater appreciation of the role that the first lady played in American society. Perhaps hoping to challenge or cor­ rect public perceptions that earlier first ladies had nothing to advocate for while more modern first ladies either retreated into a “traditional” role or followed the unique path of Eleanor Roosevelt, Gould stressed that additional scholarly research on first ladies would provide a more complete and complex view of them as individuals and would bring “important historical continui­ ties and precedents for modern First Lady activities … to light” (Gould, 1985: 532).

Gould used the example of Rosalynn Carter to assert that activities perceived as unusual or unprecedented in the present often had historical precedents. During the 1976 presidential campaign, the press corps focused attention upon the partnership between Jimmy and Rosalynn Carter, which suggested that such an arrangement was unprecedented in recent American politics. Gould noted, though, that Harry and Bess Truman, too, had been political partners, as Mrs. Truman provided counsel to her hus­ band. “Unlike the Trumans, however,” Gould wrote, “the Carters made their close working relationship a highly public matter” (1985: 536). During the White House years, Mrs. Carter’s visibility and her roles “as surrogate, confidant[e], and joint policy maker,” Gould asserted, “added a further dimension to the participation of the First Lady in the presidency” (1985: 536). The scholarship on Rosalynn Carter reflects several historiographical trends, as the writings of Watson, Gould, and others who focus on the broader canvas of first lady studies suggest. The initial treatments of Rosalynn Carter published during her hus­ band’s administration or shortly after they left the White House consist of memoirs authored by the former president, members of his administration, and the former first lady or contemporary works published by political scientists such as Betty Glad. The authors based their writings on publicly available contemporaneous sources or the participants’ recollections. From the early to the mid‐1990s, the Jimmy Carter Library in Atlanta opened up additional archival collections for research, allowing scholars to incorporate new infor­ mation and give more in‐depth treatments of Carter. During that period, Hofstra University in New York held a conference on the domestic and foreign policies of the Carter administration that was attended by the president and first lady and featured overviews and analyses from former Carter administration officials and presidential



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scholars. The conference culminated in two published volumes. These events aided scholars in producing more sophisticated and challenging studies of the Carter admin­ istration, grounded in solid archival research. The more biographically focused books on Carter produced during this period con­ tained more information about Rosalynn Carter and her tenure as first lady as well. Scholars also examined the postpresidency of Jimmy Carter—an active and ascendant period, marked by the establishment of the Carter Center and by Jimmy and Rosalynn’s continuing humanitarian and diplomatic activities during the 1990s. In The Presidents’ Wives: Reassessing the Office of the First Lady, Watson (2000) described the continuing scholarly interest in modern first ladies demonstrated during the late 1990s and the first decade of the twenty‐first century. The major profes­ sional historical and political science asso­ ciations had begun approving panels on first ladies on the programs for their annual meetings. In addition, public interest in the role of the first lady continued to inten­ sify, as evidenced by the debates during the 1992 presidential campaign over the “proper” role for the president’s spouse (Watson, 2000: 4–5). Reassessing the field in an article entitled “Source Material: Toward the Study of the First Lady: State of Scholarship,” Watson emphasized the fact that several colleges and universities had started offering courses on first ladies and that scholars from several fields were working on these topics, aided by the con­ tinual release of materials from presidential libraries (Watson, 2003: 435–439). These developments contributed to publications on Rosalynn Carter that examined her spe­ cific contributions as first lady, ranging from her advocacy for mental health reform to the diplomatic missions that she under­ took on behalf of the US government. This chapter is organized into two parts. The first part surveys the memoir literature and the historical examinations of the Carter

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presidency, including biographical treat­ ments of both Jimmy and Rosalynn Carter. These publications, especially Rosalynn Carter’s 1984 autobiography, provide a contextual framework for the discussion in the second part of the chapter, which reviews scholarship that is more narrowly focused on specific events, such as the 1976 presidential campaign, or on themes, such as that of mental health reform. In this con­ text, publications are categorized according to topic. Much of the organizational struc­ ture is reflective of the roles that political scientist Faye Lind Jensen ascribed to Mrs. Carter: “advisor, emissary, social direc­ tor, activist, and campaigner” (Jensen, 1990: 769). Although authors have chosen to explore various dimensions of Mrs. Carter’s public and private life, one consist­ ent theme that emerges regards the partner­ ship that the Carters forged before either of them contemplated a life in politics. Memoirs The memoir literature published in the early 1980s featured Rosalynn Carter in varying degrees. As in previous administrations, the senior policymakers and officials of the Carter administration authored a series of memoirs, and many of them chose to limit the scope of their book to their own time in office. In Hard Choices: Critical Years in America’s Foreign Policy, Carter’s Secretary of State Cyrus R. Vance mentions the first lady only once, noting that she had accom­ panied her husband to the Middle East in March 1979 (Vance, 1983: 246, 251). Vice President Walter F. Mondale was more expansive in his autobiography The Good Fight: A Life in Liberal Politics (Mondale, 2010). However, Mondale limited his refer­ ences to Rosalynn Carter to a few specific instances: the 1976 vice presidential selec­ tion process; the July 1979 discussions at Camp David that contributed to the draft­ ing of what would be known colloquially as

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the “malaise” speech; and the 1980 presi­ dential campaign, when Carter designated the first lady, the vice president, and Second Lady Joan Mondale as his surrogates on the campaign trail, while he remained in Washington to deal with the aftermath of the Iranian hostage crisis of November 1979 and of the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan one month later (Mondale, 2010: 161, 234–235, 253, 268). By contrast, Power and Principle: Memoirs of the National Security Adviser, 1977–1981, the memoirs of Carter’s National Security Adviser Zbigniew K. Brzezinski, devoted more attention to Rosalynn Carter’s political influence (Brzezinski, 1983). Brzezinski, like Vance, chose to emphasize the manage­ ment and implementation of foreign policy, illustrating several successes and failures experienced by the Carter administration. His role as one of the president’s key foreign policy advisers brought him into close con­ tact with the first lady. He found that her influence on her husband “was considerable and was exercised almost openly. Carter—at least to me—was not embarrassed to admit it” (Brzezinski, 1983: 31). Brzezinski indi­ cated that this influence and trust were also reflected in Carter’s decision to send the first lady abroad as his personal envoy to South America in May–June 1977 and to Thailand in November 1979 or to involve her in other diplomatic encounters, for example in the September 1978 Camp David negotiations among Carter, Israeli Prime Minister Menachem Begin, and Egyptian President Anwar Sadat (1982: 105). Not surprisingly, Jimmy Carter himself addressed the topic of his relationship with his wife in his autobiography Keeping Faith (Carter, 1982). Rather than producing a historical autobiography focused on his years as president, Carter emphasized the salient themes of his administration, both in foreign and in domestic policies. And he employed a historical context to demon­ strate the extent to which his marriage influ­ enced his presidency: he described the

decision that he and the first lady made to walk down Pennsylvania Avenue hand in hand at the start of the January 1977 inau­ gural parade. This act proved symbolic pre­ cisely because they had been married for thirty‐one years and were “full partners in every sense of the word” (Carter, 1982: 18). Their partnership had been honed dur­ ing the early years of their marriage, during Carter’s naval service. It intensified once the Carters returned home to Plains, Georgia, to run the Carter peanut ware­ house after the future president’s father died in the early 1950s. In assisting her hus­ band with the warehouse’s management, the future first lady developed valuable business experience and competency. This acumen, combined with her responsibilities during her husband’s state‐wide political campaigns for state senate and governor­ ship and with her subsequent responsibili­ ties and personal political interests and activities as first lady of Georgia, noted Jimmy Carter, shaped her “attitude toward her White House duties” (Carter, 1982: 31). Therefore, the president concluded, “it was only natural that when we arrived in Washington she would pursue these kinds of activities, acting on many occasions as my surrogate” (Carter, 1982: 32). Carter also emphasized the first lady’s influence on his conducting American for­ eign policy. As Brzezinski had written in Power and Principle, so, too, did Carter highlight his wife’s presence during the September 1978 Camp David negotiations. She offered “personal support and advice” as he attempted to broker a Middle East peace agreement (Carter, 1982: 331). Views of life in the White House contem­ poraneous with the Carters are captured in Jimmy Carter’s White House Diary (Carter, 2010). In the preface to this annotated and expanded version of the official president’s daily diary—a journal he kept all through­ out his presidency—Carter wrote that he “kept a personal diary by dictating my thoughts and observations several times a



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day” (Carter, 2010: xiii). Three decades after leaving office, he opted for publishing these diary entries with updated commen­ tary on the events and people described therein. White House Diary is by nature more expansive than Keeping Faith and con­ tains more substantive views of the first lady. Carter referenced the responsibilities accru­ ing to his wife in the first month of his administration: Rosalynn is overworked, has too small a staff, and is called on to do an enormous amount of entertaining for official visits. She’s also formed the Commission on Mental Health, is taking Spanish lessons three hours a day, the speed reading course, and has an almost unbelievable amount of press coverage and require­ ments for her appearances at special events. A lot of that work would be on my shoul­ ders if she were not willing and confident to take it. (Carter, 1982: 25)

Two years after the release of Keeping Faith, Rosalyn Carter published her own autobiography, entitled First Lady from Plains (Carter, 1984). Divided into 12 chapters, it chronicled her childhood; her early marriage, motherhood, and family life; the Carter family business; her role as first lady of Georgia; the 1976 presidential cam­ paign; public and private life in the White House; her role as a diplomatic envoy; and the 1980 presidential campaign. As a child in rural Georgia, the future first lady “had visions of becoming an architect, a stewardess, an interior decorator, even a famous artist,” although she concluded that the “only realistic future for girls at that time was as housewives or schoolteachers” (Carter, 1984: 21). Carter graduated from her high school as class valedictorian in 1944 and attended Georgia Southwestern Junior College in Americus. During this period she began dating Jimmy Carter, a brother of her friend Ruth. They eventually married on July 7, 1946 in Plains and

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departed for Norfolk, Virginia, where Jimmy Carter would begin his naval career. Rosalynn was eighteen years old. Faced with developing her own inner reserves during her husband’s time in the Navy, Carter was “forced to discover that I could do the things that had to be done, even though at the beginning I often felt inadequate and very lonely” (Carter, 1984: 27). Jimmy Carter’s naval career took them and their growing family to Connecticut, to Hawaii, to California, back to Connecticut, and to New York. Rosalynn Carter managed the household and cared for her children (initially three boys, Jack, Chip, and Jeff, born between 1947 and 1952). The Carters also used their limited free time to study Spanish, take art lessons, and explore local cultural offerings. In the early 1950s the family was posted to Schenectady, New York, where Jimmy Carter was assigned as the senior officer for the Sea Wolf, a nuclear submarine. Rosalynn Carter recalled that her husband’s “work was challenging and exciting, and he thought he had the best and most promising job in the Navy. So did I” (Carter, 1984: 35). However, Jimmy Carter’s naval career was cut short when the family learned that his father—Mr. Earl—was dying of cancer. Jimmy returned to Plains to be with his family. Concerning this period, Rosalynn Carter wrote: “It was not too long before I realized the handwriting was on the wall. And I couldn’t bear it. After his father’s funeral, Jimmy told me that he had decided to leave the Navy and return home” (Carter, 1984: 35). Although the first lady was reluctant to return to Plains in order for her husband to run the family business (she said that the town “had too many ghosts for me”), after a while she set aside her mis­ givings (Carter, 1984: 36). Unable to man­ age the operation on his own, Jimmy Carter soon came to rely on his wife to run critical aspects of the warehouse, and this enabled her to gain additional business experience. She concluded: “after a few years I was

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explaining some things to him. I knew more about the books and more about the business on paper than Jimmy did” (Carter, 1984: 47). Her ability to handle the agri­ cultural enterprise proved essential when he decided, in 1962, to run for a Georgia state senate seat. She later wrote that she was “thrilled” that he intended to run, but con­ ceded that she was “more nervous about the political race than I was about the busi­ ness” (1984: 50). The campaign also meant that Rosalynn Carter would soon have to balance the demands of the business, her family, and her responsibilities as the wife of a candidate. Carter served two terms in the Georgia Senate but lost his first bid to be a democratic gubernatorial candidate in 1966. He would have more luck four years later. In 1967 the Carters had their fourth child: a daughter, Amy. A young mother again, Mrs. Carter would find that her tenure as first lady of Georgia helped define many of the causes she would later champion in the White House. During her husband’s 1970 guber­ natorial campaign, she asserted that the “issue of mental illness began to prey on my mind” when she encountered an exhausted caregiver working both to support her fam­ ily and to provide needed care for a mentally challenged family member (Carter, 1984: 73). Mrs. Carter queried her husband what he would do to support mental health if he were elected governor of Georgia. Noting that she “hadn’t planned to spend all my time pouring tea,” Carter commented that she had asked for a commitment “that he would do all he could for mental health pro­ grams” and that she would also concentrate her energies in this area (Carter, 1984: 95). In response, now Governor Carter estab­ lished the Governor’s Commission to Improve Services to the Mentally and Emotionally Handicapped and put her on the commission. She noted that, in addition to attending meetings and volunteering at the Georgia Regional Hospital, she “l­istened and … learned” (Carter, 1984: 95–97). She

also participated in beautification and artis­ tic projects, while also supporting the Equal Rights Amendment (ERA). After four years in the governor’s man­ sion, Mrs. Carter was called back to the campaign trail again. She recounted that her husband planned to run for the presidency as early as 1972; at the time she felt “over­ whelmed by the thought,” but concluded that he “probably knew more about how government worked at the point where it served the people” than the democratic can­ didates who sought his support did (Carter, 1984: 107). In December 1974 Jimmy Carter announced that he would campaign for the democratic nomination himself. Mrs. Carter’s treatment of the 1976 presidential effort details the substantial campaigning she undertook with family friend Edna Langford (the mother of Mrs. Carter’s daughter‐in‐law Judy) during 1975 and early 1976. For eighteen months she was “on the go constantly” (Carter, 1984: 116). The grueling campaign schedule and requirement that she be able to explicate her husband’s policies in a succinct manner forced Mrs. Carter to “anticipate questions” and learn how “to get my message across in the often small time allotted no matter what questions were asked” (Carter, 1984: 119). While she noted that campaigning “was not a vocation I would want to pursue for life,” she acknowledged that “it was essential.” She did enjoy learning about her constitu­ ents’ concerns (Carter, 1984: 117). After her husband won the democratic presiden­ tial nomination, she not only informed potential voters about his positions but also explained what she would do as first lady— and this included advocating for mental health reform, assisting the elderly, and working for the passage of the ERA. Carter observed that his and Rosalynn’s move to the White House did not change their relationship. Throughout their mar­ riage, she had often “acted as a sounding board for him” (Carter, 1984: 164). Writing that they were usually on the same side of a



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political issue, she commented that, on occasion, they came down on opposite sides and added that their most “common argu­ ment centered on political timing, a ques­ tion of strategy more than substance” (Carter, 164–165). Thus, rather than wait until a possible second term for a treaty end­ ing the US role in the Panama Canal, as she suggested, he pushed for it right away and faced enormous resistance in the Senate before it passed. Rosalynn noted that her most “painful disagreements” with the pres­ ident centered on the staffing of the East Wing in order to make it carry out the myr­ iad social functions of the White House in addition to supporting the first lady’s public initiatives. The role of first lady allowed Mrs. Carter to pursue the interests that she had champi­ oned during her political life, although she soon discovered that gaining the interest of the press in her substantive initiatives would prove difficult. In February 1977, President Carter issued an executive order that estab­ lished the President’s Commission on Mental Health. Mrs. Carter held her first press conference in the East Room of the White House at the same time her husband signed the executive order. She noted the disappointment she had on the next morn­ ing, when she “picked up the Washington Post to read about it. I found not one word about the commission or the press confer­ ence. Nothing! I was crushed” (Carter, 1984: 173). However, the Post had reported the first lady’s decision that the White House would no longer serve hard liquor at receptions: “Our mental health commission was not news—I was told by the press it was not a ‘sexy’ issue—but ‘no booze in the White House’ obviously was” (quoted in Carter, 1984: 173). This policy of permit­ ting only wine emulated that of earlier first ladies like Frances Cleveland, as well as what the Carters had done at the Governor’s Mansion in Atlanta. When combined with ending state dinners at midnight, in order to avoid overtime staff costs, switching to wine

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would save “a million dollars” (Carter, 1984: 173). Mary Fitch Hoyt, Rosalynn’s press secre­ tary and East Wing coordinator, echoed in her own memoir Mrs. Carter’s dismay that the first lady’s projects were “more intrigu­ ing to her than to the press” (Hoyt, 2001: 135). Hoyt noted how broader changes in American society influenced how the first lady was perceived by both the press and the public. By the mid‐1970s, the metropolitan dailies had moved away from writing and producing “women’s pages.” Whereas in the recent past activities of the first ladies would appear in these sections, now it was unclear where coverage of Rosalynn Carter’s efforts to reform mental health would be featured in a major newspaper. Yet the press remained stubbornly focused on chroni­ cling certain “traditional” aspects of Mrs. Carter’s role, such as those connected with beverages at receptions, while either ignor­ ing or sometimes criticizing her other activities. Regardless of the lack of positive press attention, Mrs. Carter devoted considera­ ble energy to her new task as the “honor­ ary” chair of the President’s Commission on Mental Health. In 1977 she and the other commissioners held public hearings across the country to record testimony from health care professionals, activists, and those suffering from mental illness. Ultimately the commission submitted to the president a final set of recommenda­ tions for the revamping of mental health services in the United States. The next dif­ ficulty was to persuade the executive branch agencies to implement the recommenda­ tions that did not require Congressional approval, and also to lobby Congress to adopt the provisions that did. Pushing on despite obstacles and bureaucratic hassles, in February, and again in May 1979 the first lady testified before the Senate on behalf of the Mental Health Systems Act, on which Congress deliberated for months thereafter. As the discussions went on, Mrs. Carter

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continued to advocate in support of the legislation and “remained in constant touch” with Representative Henry Waxman and Senator Edward Kennedy, the chairs of the respective House and Senate commit­ tees (Carter, 1984: 279). She and the com­ mission members could at last celebrate in September 1980, when the Mental Health Systems Act passed and received funding; but their joy was short‐lived. Once Ronald Reagan assumed the presidency in January 1981, the act was repealed, and responsibil­ ity for mental health concerns returned to the states; the strong federal role that Carter had advocated for was rejected. Rosalynn felt “betrayed” that the result she and oth­ ers had worked so hard to bring about would be negated “by the philosophy of a new President” (Carter, 1984: 279). Along with the cause of mental health, the “image” issue would also linger for the first lady throughout her husband’s term in office. Recalling that members of the press had dubbed her the “steel magnolia” during the 1976 presidential campaign, Carter (1984) wrote that this was soon eclipsed by rumors that she was “telling” her husband what to do, as evidenced by her attendance at Cabinet meetings during the second year of his presidency. It was unprecedented for a first lady to attend Cabinet meetings on a regular basis. President Carter had asked her to attend, she explained, so that she could gain greater knowledge of the issues the administration faced. Looking back, she concluded that she had “already learned from more than a decade of political life that I was going to be criticized no matter what I did, so I might as well be criticized for something that I wanted to do” (Carter, 1984: 175). Perhaps the greatest challenge to the tra­ ditional image of first lady occurred when President Carter decided to send Mrs. Carter to Latin America in the spring of 1977. Focused on other issues such as secur­ ing approval of the Panama Canal treaties and participating in the second round of the

Strategic Arms Limitation Talks (SALT), the president nonetheless believed that the issues facing Latin America could not be neglected or deferred. As an official envoy of the United States government (and a Spanish‐speaking one at that), Rosalynn “served as the president’s personal repre­ sentative in holding substantive meetings … on matters such as human rights, arms reduction, and drug trafficking.” She pre­ pared with briefings from scholars, the departments of state and treasury, members of the National Security Council staff, and extensive reading (Glad, 2009: 11). Aware of criticism of the mission both from within the government and from the press, the first lady asserted that she had “long been” her husband’s “partner.” She explained: “It was natural for him to turn to me to take on a challenge that was special and personal to him. … I was determined to be taken seri­ ously” (Carter, 1984: 188). Kathy B. Smith notes that the earliest US reporting on the trip was positive, the major American televi­ sion news networks praising her efforts (Smith, 1997: 545–546). Although the administration deemed the trip a success, questions still lingered regard­ ing the first lady’s role as a diplomat. Myra G. Gutin noted that Mrs. Carter felt com­ pelled to defend herself in response to a question posed to her by journalist Judy Woodruff on the NBC Today show by stat­ ing: “I thought I could develop some per­ sonal relationships between the heads of state that I visited. … I thought I could con­ vey to them the goals and politics of the Carter administration” (quoted in Gutin, 1994: 520). Smith also observed that the “unusual representative role for the first lady did not pass without criticism.” To illustrate this point, she referenced an article in the Chicago Tribune in which Bob Wiedrich “hoped that ‘President Carter would stop using members of his family as ex‐officio representatives of the American people who voted him into office’” (quoted in Smith, 1997: 546). Despite such attacks,



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Rosalynn Carter continued her role as presi­ dential emissary throughout the remainder of her husband’s term in office, as will be discussed further below. However, her later trips would be more oriented to humanitar­ ian concerns. In concluding her memoirs, Carter reflected that, after her husband’s departure from office, she had continued to support the causes that she had “followed for many years.” Although somewhat skeptical that she would enjoy living in Plains after many years away, Carter admitted that she and her husband eventually “settled into life at home” and “slowly rediscovered the satis­ faction of a life we had left long before” (Carter, 1984: 353). But she did not quickly stifle her political instincts, and the home satisfactions were bittersweet at first. During the recession of the early 1980s, she asserted that her husband’s “philosophy of fiscal conservatism and compassion” would have placed the United States in a better position to address social inequality: “things would be different if we were back in the White House” (Carter, 1984: 357). And in early 1984 she said that the American people had “made a mistake” by not electing Jimmy Carter a second time. She maintained that, if he decided to run for the presidency again, she would “be out there campaigning right now” (Carter, 1984: 357). Biography One of the major themes developed in the memoir literature of the Carter administra­ tion is the partnership between Jimmy and Rosalynn Carter. The scholarly examinations of both Carters look at this partnership and at its impact on Carter’s political life from his earliest, local campaigns. In Jimmy Carter: In Search of the Great White House, a book that chronicles the 1976 presidential campaign in impressive detail, political scientist Betty Glad (1980) described the media adoration or “idealization” of Carter after his acceptance

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of the democratic nomination and the exten­ sion of this feeling to the rest of the Carter family. She asserted that Mrs. Carter served as the president’s “greatest admirer and sup­ porter,” but, in contrast to Eleanor Roosevelt (a first lady she is often compared to), “she does not appear to serve as her husband’s conscience” (Glad, 1980: 500). More than twenty years later, in An Outsider in the White House: Jimmy Carter, His Advisors, and the Making of an American Foreign Policy, Glad reemphasized the influ­ ence Carter exerted on her husband. Glad suggested that Jimmy Carter relied on her as part of an “inner circle” of advisors and “influentials”—“outside of the formal gov­ ernmental chain of command”—to advise and shape his decision‐making process (Glad, 2009: 11). Mrs. Carter also “met the emotional needs” of her husband, notably during the 1978 Camp David meetings, where she and Vance “reassured the presi­ dent that he should adhere to his mission, even when matters looked bleak” (Glad, 2009: 14). In Mr. and Mrs. President: From the Trumans to the Clintons—Gil Troy’s explo­ ration of modern presidential marriages— Rosalynn Carter is depicted as an “astonishingly political wife” (Troy, 2000: 237). However, Troy noted that, while the Carters functioned as a team during the 1976 presidential campaign, the “story was more southern than northern, more rural than feminist. Neither a traditional political wife nor a modern career woman, Rosalynn was Jimmy Carter’s political partner” (Troy, 2000: 244). This relationship would take center stage during the January 1977 inau­ gural perambulation, a walk that confirmed their partnership: “Rosalynn was part of his political identity, and his mandate” (2000: 248). Carter continued to rely on his wife’s judgment, directing papers to her for her review, meeting with her during a standing weekly lunch, and including her in Cabinet meetings (2000: 252–253). Troy concluded that no “master plan” existed for the

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partnership, but that Rosalynn Carter’s “stature grew in the White House as natu­ rally as it had grown in the warehouse. As both confidante and emissary, she operated with Jimmy’s blessing … [he] naturally turned to her for more and more tasks” (2000: 254). Historians Burton and Scott Kaufman (2006), father and son, stressed the central­ ity of Rosalynn Carter in their comprehen­ sive examination of Carter’s presidency in The Presidency of James Earl Carter Jr. To give just one example: they employed the controversy surrounding the Cabinet resig­ nations in the summer of 1979 to claim that Rosalynn “continued to play an ever‐ increasing role in the administration” (Kaufman and Kaufman, 2006: 180). Although the first lady had opposed the mass resignations of Cabinet members, including that of Secretary of the Treasury W. Michael Blumenthal, the public learned nonetheless that she had been involved in the secret discussions over the Cabinet shake‐up that took place at Camp David. Once again, “many Americans believed that she had crossed the line of the proper role of a first lady” (2006: 180). President Carter’s decision during the earliest months of the 1980 presidential campaign to allow surro­ gates such as the first lady and Mondale to campaign throughout the country also attracted both praise and scrutiny, leading at least one women’s magazine to wonder whether the first lady was “running the country” (2006: 214). Scott Kaufman (2007) analyzed Mrs. Carter’s various roles more deeply in a biography of the first lady entitled Rosalynn Carter: Equal Partner in the White House. Using available archival materials from the Carter Library and interviews from the president, the first lady, and other adminis­ tration officials, Kaufman wrote the first scholarly biography of Rosalynn Carter, tracing her childhood in Plains to her post‐ White House activities. Kaufman, too, stressed the partnership that Mrs. Carter

developed with her husband and how this helped dictate their political success in 1976 (Kaufman, 2007: 25). Mrs. Carter’s ability to read people and discern their motives, as well as her willingness to criti­ cize her husband and to suggest alternative courses of action, proved crucial to the campaign. Kaufman asserted that the inau­ gural walk symbolized this partnership and the ways in which the presidential pair “viewed their roles and each other.” The Carters “were no better than any other American” (2007: 32–33). The Carters’ equal partnership played out against the backdrop of changing expecta­ tions for first ladies, a theme that Hoyt developed in her memoirs too. Kaufman was of the view that, as a result of the broader societal developments of the first half of the twentieth century, “the office of first lady had experienced two significant changes by the time Rosalynn Carter moved into the White House: increasing media and public scrutiny, and a growth in activism” (Kaufman, 2007: 35). This enhanced activ­ ism was part of Rosalynn Carter’s own life trajectory, as Kaufman notes; the first lady would continue to pursue the programs and interests that she had developed as first lady of Georgia, albeit on a larger scale. In order to carry out this agenda, Mrs. Carter, “the first first lady to have an office of her own in the East Wing,” relied on a staff that included Hoyt and Kathy Cade, director of the East Wing Projects, Issues, and Research Office (Kaufman, 2007: 35). In addition to her concerns about mental health, the first lady also pursued the cause of providing additional support for the elderly, for educa­ tion, and for neighborhood beautification— the last one in a program that the press dubbed the “Rosalynn Plan” (2007: 51–53). With this level of engagement and advocacy, Mrs. Carter served as a “transi­ tional” first lady at a time of continued social and political change in the United States. Unlike other scholars who have identi­ fied the relationship between Jimmy and



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Rosalynn Carter as only one component of the Carter presidency, historian E. Stanly Godbold Junior made the partnership itself the subject of Jimmy and Rosalynn Carter: The Georgia Years, 1924–1974 (Godbold, 2010). In explaining the purpose of the biography, Godbold wrote that it “elevates” Rosalynn Carter “to the place of equal part­ ner” in Jimmy Carter’s “life and career, which he insisted she deserved. The story of one is the story of the other” (Godbold, 2010: 2–3). Using a variety of archival sources, Godbold crafted an immensely readable biography of both Carters, which offers plenty of details about the pre‐presi­ dential years. Following Jimmy Carter’s election to the Georgia State Senate in 1962 and his swearing in, Goldbold asserted that Rosalynn Carter “caught fire with the idea of a life in politics” (2010: 102). During Carter’s unsuccessful 1966 campaign for governorship, Rosalynn displayed many of the characteristics that would aid the couple a decade later, during the 1976 presidential campaign, when her “Methodist‐inspired commitment to social justice and help for the needy translated into a political agenda” (2010: 121). Thematic Views of Rosalynn Carter The 1976 presidential campaign Campaigning for the presidency in 1976, Jimmy Carter had to overcome substantial obstacles in winning the democratic presi­ dential nomination, even in a year when Republicans were still recovering from the Watergate scandal. The Carters decided that “capturing the White House would mean the opportunity to overcome Americans’ lack of faith in their elected leaders; [a Carter admin­ istration] would bring openness, honesty, and competence to government, and help those in need” (Kaufman, 2007: 24). Although Carter had enjoyed success as governor of Georgia and had developed ­

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c­ onnections with a wider network of America’s foreign policy elite through his participation in the Trilateral Commission, he had to surmount both the problem of name recognition and a formidable field of democratic presidential contenders, who included Edmund Muskie, Hubert Humphrey, Frank Church, Morris Udall, Henry “Scoop” Jackson, and George Wallace. The several generations of the Carter family took to campaigning, as they had dur­ ing Jimmy’s earlier campaigns for Georgia state senate and governorship—but this time throughout the United States. In an article entitled “Campaigning Since Kennedy: The Family as ‘Surrogate,’” political scientist Barbara Kellerman asserted that family mem­ bers as stand‐in campaigners “have done no less than alter the course of electoral politics” (Kellerman, 1980: 244). As Kellerman notes, Jimmy’s “most constant companion in this formidable task was his wife Rosalynn” (1980: 250). In order to assist in the task of familiarizing voters with her husband and his goals, Mrs. Carter went to Florida a full year before the 1976 primary there and spent much of the spring of 1976 stumping throughout the South and East. Myra Gutin (1994) noted that, during the campaign, the future first lady was “meeting the voters of the 30 primary states, answering substantive questions, and analyzing the mood of the electorate” (Gutin, 1994: 517). Kaufman also noted that it was Rosalynn who “con­ vinced her husband to run in every primary … [and] analyzed the result of each vote and used that information to make recommenda­ tions on places that he might visit” (Kaufman, 2007: 27). Kellerman (1980) highlighted other efforts that Mrs. Carter made in assisting her husband, for instance defending him after the fallout from Carter’s summer 1976 Playboy magazine interview. While Mrs. Carter championed the causes she remained passionate about, namely mental health and the elderly, Kellerman sug­ gested that “much more than most wives,

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she echoed the dominant notes of her hus­ band’s campaign”— that Jimmy Carter would restore a sense of morality and decency to Washington at a time when many Americans were disillusioned by government institutions, including the presidency (Kellerman, 1980: 251). Carter also delegated campaign duties to his wife during his 1980 reelection effort. Glad asserted that in 1979 the first lady was campaigning almost full time for her hus­ band. In June she was raising money for the 1980 campaign. By late fall she had visited twenty‐nine cities and towns and collected $700,000. She also took to the hustings, flying in an Air Force DC‐9 jet called the “Executive One” to Florida, Illinois, New Hampshire, Iowa, and other early caucus or primary states. (Glad, 1980: 453)

Gutin recalled that, as in 1976, the first lady “was the main attraction, as the president, who was besieged with the Iranian hostage crisis and other domestic problems, was forced to remain at the White House” (Gutin, 1994: 521). Kaufman (2007: 135 wrote that Mrs. Carter had “developed a standard address that usually began with an explanation” as to why voters should return her husband to office for a second term. Regardless of the first lady’s campaign efforts, Jimmy Carter failed to win reelec­ tion, effectively ending this phase of Rosalynn’s advocacy for the causes most important to her. Activism Carter’s commitment to social justice was evident well before the 1976 presidential campaign. During the 1960s, Jimmy and Rosalynn Carter refused to be associated with attempts to overturn the Brown v. Board of Education ruling in 1954. In doing so, Kaufman wrote, both “understood … they risked repercussions, including a

­oycott of the family and business and b destruction of their financial well‐being” (Kaufman, 2007: 13). In addition to endors­ ing racial equality, the future first lady sup­ ported women’s rights in the form of the ERA. She wrote in her autobiography that, when the Georgia House of Representatives was set to consider the ERA in 1974, she “made a few calls” in support of it but pri­ vately believed that it would not pass. Learning that Gloria Steinem planned to travel to Atlanta to lead an ERA march, Rosalynn informed her husband that Steinem’s presence would only exacerbate the anti‐ERA forces in Georgia. Governor Carter apparently misunderstood his wife’s statement and informed an anti‐ERA crowd that he supported the ERA while his wife opposed it. He wrote that she could not believe that her husband thought that she opposed the amendment and arranged to meet with him at the Capitol the next day, sporting her “I’m for ERA” lapel button (Carter, 1984: 100–101). While first lady, Rosalynn “pushed aggres­ sively” for the passage of the amendment, “making dozens of calls to lawmakers in states where it was under consideration and traveling throughout the country to drum up support on its behalf” (Kaufman and Kaufman, 2006: 135). Although she sup­ ported the ERA, as did the president, the Kaufmans noted that feminists were “disap­ pointed” with the administration, “accus­ ing” Carter of “relying too much on his wife and daughter‐in‐law to secure ERA passage instead of doing his own campaigning” (135–136). It is ironic that feminist activists saw the promotion of the amendment by the first lady and other female members of the Carter family as indicative that the adminis­ tration was not sufficiently serious about the cause. That they perceived Mrs. Carter as someone unable to articulate a strong view, separate from that of her husband, regardless of the topic contributed to her “image” problem—although in a way opposite to that of those who thought that she was too



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influential. Scott Kaufman (2007) suggests that Carter’s opposition to abortion also hurt her reputation as an activist for ERA, even though she did not call for overturning the 1973 Roe v. Wade (1973) decision. Perhaps the larger issue was that Rosalynn Carter’s support for the ERA, like her other initiatives, was overshadowed in the press by an emphasis on the more traditional White House activities associated with first ladies, as noted earlier in this chapter (Hoyt, 2001: 136). Be that as it may; the failure of the ERA to win ratification was Rosalynn Carter’s “greatest disappointment in all the projects” she labored over in the White House (quoted in Carter, 1984: 286). Mrs. Carter’s most well‐known advocacy role is that of mental health reformer. Her efforts here, Kaufman notes, were inspired in part by family reasons (both Jimmy and Rosalyn Carter had relatives who suffered from mental illness), in part by the prompt­ ing of Georgia’s citizens during the 1970 race for governorship, and in part by Rosalynn’s own observations of the difficul­ ties that mentally ill Georgians and their car­ egivers faced. As noted above, as first lady of Georgia, she would serve on the Governor’s Commission to Improve Services to the Mentally and Emotionally Handicapped and would volunteer weekly at a mental hospital (Kaufman, 2007: 21–22). In a 2005 article, Gerald Grob, like Kaufman, traced Rosalynn’s role as honor­ ary chair of the Carter administration’s Presidential Commission on Mental Health (PCMH) to her earlier work in Georgia (Grob, 2005: 429). Mrs. Carter, who did work on that commission far in excess of the “honorary” designation, was limited to that title owing to the 1967 Postal Revenue and Federal Salary Act, which prevented the president’s spouse or another family member from serving in appointed Cabinet posi­ tions; thus Carter named Dr. Thomas E. Bryant as chair. Yet, as Cade asserts, the first lady regularly chaired the meetings after consulting with Bryant (Gutin, 1994: 532).

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The Carter administration subsequently introduced the Mental Health Systems Act in order to legislate the recommendations sug­ gested by the PCMH. In February 1979 the first lady testified before the Senate Subcommittee on Human Resources, which was then considering the Mental Health Systems Act. This made her the first first lady in decades to testify before the Senate, and only the second one in history to ever do it (Gould, 1985: 537; Gutin, 1994: 519). As Mrs. Carter herself explained: “When the time was right, I went to Capitol Hill myself to testify before the Senate committee, for which there wasn’t much precedent. We could find a record of only one other First Lady who had testified before Congress— Eleanor Roosevelt” (Carter, 1984: 278). Diplomacy Asserting that his schedule in the early months of his administration precluded heavy international travel, President Carter opted for sending his wife as his emissary or personal representative on a Latin American trip to Brazil, Costa Rica, Ecuador, Jamaica, Peru, and Venezuela in late May–early June 1977, accompanied by National Security Council (NSC) Latin American expert Robert Pastor and by Assistant Secretary of State for Inter‐American Affairs Terrance Todman. As noted earlier, Kathy Smith con­ firms that the trip was “unprecedented” and “substantive in nature” (Smith, 1997: 542– 545). She also claims that the mission to Latin America “was a test for the cultural limitations placed on a president’s wife” (1997: 547). In addition, the trip matched the admin­ istration’s efforts to use “symbolic gestures” as a means of dealing with nations with human rights concerns. Kaufman wrote that, while Mrs. Carter primarily discussed economic and military matters with foreign leaders, “she did quietly raise the issue of human rights with the Peruvian leadership

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and, in Brazil, publicly agreed to take to her husband a letter written by university stu­ dents complaining about repression in that country” (Kaufman, 2008: 35). One of the most striking examples of Rosalynn’s effective activism abroad stemmed from a trip she took to Thailand in 1979 to assess conditions in camps set up for Kampuchean (Cambodian) refugees after their country had been brutally invaded by Vietnam. Seeing rampant famine and disease, Rosalynn returned to the United States to marshal support; she met with UN Secretary General Kurt Waldheim, the president, and other leaders, and eventually secured $6 mil­ lion in US and UN aid, including rice through Public Law 480 (Carter, 1984; Brinkley, 1998; Ahlberg, 2008). Postpresidency Embittered by the loss to Ronald Reagan, the Carters returned to Georgia on January 20, 1981. Throughout the first few years of Carter’s postpresidency, both Jimmy and Rosalynn Carter devoted considerable energy to humanitarian efforts, including the construction of the Carter Center in Atlanta and participation in the Friendship Force and Habitat for Humanity programs. They also found time to enjoy the solitude of Plains—according to Carter, “[w]alking through the woods and fields for miles without seeing a house, and only rarely meeting a car while bicycling along the back roads around our home, are luxuries we hadn’t fully appreciated before” (Carter, 1984: 354). In addition to enjoying their hobbies and entertaining visitors, both Carters began writing their memoirs; the former president limited his focus to his time in office, while the first lady penned a more traditional autobiography. Their joint project, entitled Everything to Gain: Making the Most of the Rest of Your Life (Carter and Carter, 1995), which con­ tained their “insight” into how each

“learned to maintain a mentally and physi­ cally happy life,” temporarily caused fric­ tion in their partnership; both agreed that they would never again collaborate on a book (Brinkley, 1998: 171). These efforts, including both Carters’ postpresidential diplomatic activities, gar­ nered significant attention from the press and the American public. Although the public perception of President Carter when he left office in January 1981 was decidedly negative, his image rose throughout the 1990s, in part due to his humanitarian work and his personal diplomacy. This ascendancy intersected with the increasing numbers of scholars who examined the papers related to both Carters housed at their Presidential Library in Atlanta and who produced schol­ arly assessments on a variety of aspects of Carter’s administration. As historical inter­ est in the Carter presidency continued to grow, in 1997 scholars organized a confer­ ence at the library with both Carters pre­ sent, under the premise that this presidency marked the end of the New Deal era. The resulting book, The Carter Presidency: Policy Choices in the Post‐New Deal Era, edited by Gary M. Fink and Hugh Davis Graham and published in 1998, included an essay by John Whiteclay Chambers II that asserted that connections existed between Carter’s presidential and postpresidential policies: “[He] seemed to be taking some of the few acclaimed characteristics of his defeated presi­ dency—his peacemaking and his concern for human rights and the poor—and making them the focus of a campaign for his own resurrection” (Chambers, 1998: 267). ­ Chambers wrote that Mrs. Carter, mean­ while, “continued her own special interests in mental health, child immunization, and car­ egiving—all of which were also areas of inter­ est to her during the Carter presidency” (1998: 267). Noting that the “foreign policy difficulties” of Presidents George H. W. Bush and Bill Clinton “gave Carter his greatest opportunities to influence policy and major events,” Chambers described several of these



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instances, including Carter’s efforts to moni­ tor elections in Panama in 1989 and his cen­ tral role as part of a negotiating team dispatched to Haiti in 1994 to secure the return of the democratically elected President Jean‐Bertrand Aristide. Rosalynn herself joined Jimmy in efforts to end the Bosnian Civil War. In late December 1994 they met with Bosnian Serb leader Radovan Karadizic to obtain his agreement to a peace plan he had rejected five months earlier, Karadizic, military commander Ratko Mladic, and Jimmy Carter then signed a statement that “called for a formal, four‐month cease‐fire, release of UN hostage peacekeepers, and pro­ tection of human rights throughout Bosnia” (1998: 275). Historian David Brinkley, in a work devoted to analyzing Carter’s postpresi­ dency, credited Carter’s “steadfast wife” with the former president’s success in becoming a “true citizen of the world, working to build societies in which the human spirit can prevail and where freedom and democracy can flourish” (Brinkley, 1998: xv). Carter’s work has not always been so well received. In particular, his book Palestine: Peace not Apartheid, published in 2006, has faced mixed reviews. Fewer issues have been raised by Rosalynn’s efforts. At the request of the Georgia State University system, Mrs. Carter helped create the Rosalynn Carter Institute for Human Development, now the Rosalynn Carter Institute for Caregiving, at her old alma mater. The Institute at Georgia Southwestern University is built on her long legacy of work on behalf of the mentally ill and is now “a leading national source of practical solu­ tions to caregivers’ exasperating quanda­ ries” Brinkley, 1998: 171). Further Research As Scott Kaufman noted in the preface of his 2007 biography of Rosalynn Carter, no scholar up to that point had written a

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c­ omprehensive biography of the first lady. This continues to be the case, as is evidenced by this chapter’s reliance on so many scholarly articles or book chapters, rather than mono­ graphs, to illustrate the wide range of Mrs. Carter’s activities while in the White House. The further opening of additional records at the Carter Library and at the National Archives and Records Administration should yield substantially more documentation on Carter’s tenure as first lady. The declassifica­ tion and processing of foreign policy records will allow scholars to examine Mrs. Carter’s diplomatic activities in greater depth, as will the release of the volumes for the Carter period in the Foreign Relations of the United States series. More research and interpreta­ tion is needed in this area, especially in order to provide an accurate picture of the first lady’s role as diplomatic envoy.

References Ahlberg, K. 2008. Transplanting the Great Society: Lyndon Johnson and Food for Peace. Columbia: University of Missouri Press. Brinkley, D. 1998. The Unfinished Presidency: Jimmy Carter’s Journey Beyond the White House. New York: Viking. Brown v. Board of Education of Topeka, 347 US 483 (1954). Brzezinski, Z. 1983. Power and Principle: Memoirs of the National Security Adviser, 1977–1981. New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux. Carter, J. 1982. Keeping Faith: Memoirs of a President. New York: Bantam Books. Carter, J. 2010. White House Diary. New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux. Carter, J., and R. Carter. 1995. Everything to Gain: Making the Most of the Rest of Your Life. Fayetteville: University of Arkansas Press. Carter, R. 1984. First Lady from Plains. Boston. Houghton Mifflin. Chambers II, J. W. 1998. “The Agenda Continued: Jimmy Carter’s Postpresidency.” In The Carter Presidency: Policy Choices in the Post‐New Deal Era, edited by G. M. Fink and H. D. Graham, 267–285. Lawrence: University Press of Kansas.

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Glad, B. 1980. Jimmy Carter: In Search of the Great White House. New York: W. W. Norton. Glad, B. 2009. An Outsider in the White House: Jimmy Carter, His Advisors, and the Making of American Foreign Policy. Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press. Godbold, E. S., Jr. 2010. Jimmy and Rosalynn Carter: The Georgia Years, 1924–1974. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Gould, L. L. 1985. “Modern First Ladies in Historical Perspective.” Presidential Studies Quarterly 15 (3): 532–540. Grob, G. N. 2005. “Public Policy and Mental Illnesses: Jimmy Carter’s Presidential Commission on Mental Health.” The Milbank Quarterly 83 (3): 425–456. Gutin, M. G. 1994. “Rosalynn Carter in the White House.” In The Presidency and Domestic Policies of Jimmy Carter, edited by H. D. Rosenbaum and A. Ugrinsky, 515–549. Westport, CT: Greenwood. Hoyt, M. F. 2001. East Wing: Politics, the Press, and a First Lady. Philadelphia, PA: Xlibris. Jensen, F. L. 1990. “An Awesome Responsibility: Rosalynn Carter as First Lady.” Presidential Studies Quarterly 20 (4): 769–775. Kaufman, B. I., and S. Kaufman. 2006. The Presidency of James Earl Carter Jr., 2nd edn. Lawrence: University Press of Kansas. Kaufman, S. 2007. Rosalynn Carter: Equal Partner in the White House. Lawrence: University Press of Kansas. Kaufman, S. 2008. Plans Unraveled: The Foreign Policy of the Carter Administration. De Kalb: University of Northern Illinois Press. Kellerman, B. 1980. “Campaigning since Kennedy: The Family as ‘Surrogate.’” Presidential Studies Quarterly 10 (2): 244–253. Mondale, W. F., with D. Hage. 2010. The Good Fight: A Life in Liberal Politics. New York: Scribner. Roe v. Wade, 410 US 113 (1973). Smith, K. B. 1997. “The First Lady Represents America: Rosalynn Carter in South America.” Presidential Studies Quarterly 27 (3): 540–548.

Troy, G. 2000. Mr. and Mrs. President: From the Trumans to the Clintons. Lawrence: University Press of Kansas. Vance, C. 1983. Hard Choices: Critical Years in America’s Foreign Policy. New York: Simon & Schuster. Watson, R. P. 1997. “The First Lady Reconsidered: Presidential Partner and Political Institution.” Presidential Studies Quarterly 27 (4): 805–818. Watson, R. P. 2000. The President’s Wives: Reassessing the Office of the First Lady. Boulder, CO: Lynne Rienner. Watson, R. P. 2003. “Toward the Study of the First Lady: The State of Scholarship.” Presidential Studies Quarterly 33 (2): 423–441.

Further Reading Bourne, P. G. 1997. Jimmy Carter: A Comprehensive Biography from Plains to Post‐presidency. New York: Scribner. Carter, J. 1975. Why Not the Best? Why One Man Is Optimistic about America’s Third Century. Nashville, TN: Broadman Press. Carter, J. 2006. Palestine: Peace, not Apartheid. New York: Simon & Schuster. Hargrove, E. C. 1988. Jimmy Carter as President: Leadership and Politics of the Public Good. Baton Rouge: Louisiana State University Press. Smith, G. 1986. Morality, Reason, and Power: American Diplomacy in the Carter Years. New York: Hill & Wang. Watson, R. P. 1997. “The First Lady Reconsidered: Presidential Partner and Political Institution.” Presidential Studies Quarterly 27 (4,): 805–818. Watson, R. P. 2001. “The ‘White Glove Pulpit’: A History of Policy Influence by First Ladies.” Organization of American Historians Magazine of History 15 (3): 9–14. Zelizer, J. E. 2010. Jimmy Carter. New York: Henry Holt.

Chapter Thirty Four

Nancy Reagan Jason Roberts

Few first ladies have seen their time in the White House more heavily debated than Nancy Reagan, wife of Ronald Reagan and first lady from 1981 to 1989. To critics, she was a materialistic woman who dressed extravagantly and manipulated her husband. To supporters, she was a steadying influence who provided solace to Ronald Reagan in times of crisis. In recent years scholars and journalists have offered a more nuanced view of Nancy Reagan. Today she is perceived as a first lady who had a moderating influence on her husband on issues such as negotiating with the Soviet Union, AIDS, and the Iran– Contra Affair. Since their time in Washington, she has served as a well‐known and sympathetic symbol for many caregivers’ private struggle with Alzheimer’s—the illness that struck and eventually killed her husband after he left office—and has also promoted her husband’s legacy, thus further defining the role of first ladies beyond her own period in the White House. Nancy Reagan was born Anne Frances Robbins on July 6, 1921 in New York. Although she insisted that she was born in 1923, records confirm her birth two years earlier. Her mother, Edith Luckett, was a traveling actress and her father, Kenneth Robbins, who played only a brief role in her  life, was a salesman. The marriage was

doomed to failure and Edith and Kenneth divorced when their girl was an infant. After the divorce Edith decided to focus on her acting career and sent Nancy (as they had come to call her) at the age of two to live with her aunt, Edith’s sister Virginia, in Bethesda, Maryland. Although Nancy claimed in her autobiography that she was happy during the years she spent away from her mother, many scholars and biographers disagree (Reagan, 1989). According to Nancy Reagan’s biographer Frances Leighton, the time apart from her mother was “lonely and strange” (Leighton, 1987: 6). Likewise, another biographer, James Benze, asserts that Nancy “often cried herself to sleep” due to her separation from Edith. To Benze, the traumatic separation explains why Nancy was later so committed to her marriage to Ronald Reagan (Benze, 2005: 9). Pierre‐ Marie Loizeau notes that, when Nancy was suffering from double pneumonia, she “wanted her mother so much that she cried with anger” (Loizeau, 2005: 4). Nancy’s relatives sent her to be educated at Sidwell Friends, a private Quaker school that has been attended since by Chelsea Clinton and by the Obama daughters. Nancy was reunited with her mother in 1929, when the latter announced that she  was marrying a distinguished Chicago

A Companion to First Ladies, First Edition. Edited by Katherine A. S. Sibley. © 2016 John Wiley & Sons, Inc. Published 2016 by John Wiley & Sons, Inc.

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neurosurgeon named Loyal Davis. After they were married, Nancy moved to Chicago to live with the couple. She later recalled that this reunion “was like the happy ending to a fairy tale” (Wallace, 1986: 2). Although neither an extroverted nor an affectionate man, Davis established a close relationship with Nancy. The relationship was so close that Nancy filed documentation in which she officially listed Davis as her father. In her memoirs she described Davis as “loyal,” “the strong, silent type,” and “warm and tenderhearted underneath” (Reagan, 1989: 74–75). Richard Davis, Nancy’s stepbrother, later remembered that she had a “great relationship” with Loyal Davis (Wallace, ­ 1986: 6). David Woodard believes that Nancy was successful in bringing out Loyal Davis’s “soft side” (Woodard, 2012: 37). Living with her mother exposed Nancy to  her mother’s Hollywood friends. These included Spencer Tracy, Katharine Hepburn (Tracy’s lover), and Walter Huston; all three were frequent visitors to the Davis household. According to Nancy, her mother was so close to Spencer Tracy that he was “practically a member of the family” (Reagan, 1989: 78). Nancy’s brushes with her mother’s actor friends sparked her interest in the theater. As a result, she participated in plays (including as the president’s wife in the play First Lady) while attending the Girls’ Latin School in Chicago. After graduation from the Girls’ Latin in 1939, Nancy attended Smith College in Northampton, Massachusetts. At Smith she majored in English and continued her interest in the theater by participating in plays during the school year and by traveling in theater troupes during the summer. One of Nancy’s contemporaries at Smith was the feminist Betty Friedan, who graduated one year before Nancy, in 1942. There is no indication in Nancy’s writings or recollections that she knew Friedan, then Betty Goldstein. However, Friedan claims in her memoirs that she knew Nancy “vaguely” and that they sometimes traveled back to Illinois together

(Friedan was from Peoria) (Friedan, 2000: 301). During her college years Nancy was not focused on her studies. Indeed, Benze notes that Nancy was “not much of a scholar” and struggled with math and science classes (Benze, 2005: 12). While in college, she went out with her first steady boyfriend, Frank Birney, who attended Princeton University. In her memoir she described him as “charming, funny, and bright” (Reagan, 1989: 83). They first met during Nancy’s débutante ball, where Frank, to ease her nervousness, kept going through the receiving line and introducing himself as a different person. However, the relationship ended tragically when Frank was struck by a train in New York. Most accounts agree that his death was an accident. However, Leighton (1987) argues that Frank’s death may have been a suicide. She notes that Frank worried about flunking out of Princeton and was depressed before he died. For Nancy, Frank’s death was a “tremendous shock” (Reagan, 1989: 83). After graduating from Smith in 1943 (a few months before Barbara Bush started there), Nancy moved to New York City and performed in a number of Broadway plays— for example in the musical Lute Song, where she appeared in 1946 in the company of Broadway star Mary Martin and Russian‐ born actor Yul Brynner. In addition to the theater, Nancy starred in a few early television movies such as Ramshackle Inn and Broken Dishes in 1949. Nancy experienced her first encounter with publicity when she dated the famous actor Clark Gable (most remembered for his role as Rhett Butler in the 1939 movie Gone with the Wind), who was a friend of her mother’s. She considered Gable “sexy, handsome, and affectionate” as well as “a kind, romantic, and fun‐loving man” (Reagan, 1989: 87). Whenever they went out to restaurants and clubs, they were followed by fans and by the press. Leighton (1987: 77), however, asserts that the relationship between Nancy and the iconic actor “was not even a romance.”



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Nancy traveled to Hollywood to take a screen test in 1949, whereupon MGM offered her a beginning contract for seven years. Some scholars have argued that things might have turned out differently if it were not for her mother’s connections—most notably Spencer Tracy. Film historian Marc Eliot argues that Tracy “used his influence to arrange a screen test for her at MGM and made sure that no matter what the result she would be offered a contract”; Eliot (2008: 893) considered her screen test “marginally passable.” During her acting career Nancy starred in eleven films, but her roles were mostly supporting ones and she was never a major star. In an explanation that reflected the sexist norms of the time, journalist Bill Boyarsky referred to her as “a young actress in some unimportant films” who used acting as an intermission between college and marriage (Boyarsky, 1968: 76). Even if she did not make a career of it, James Benze has perceptively argued that Nancy Reagan’s years in the public spotlight as a political wife and adviser were shaped by her experiences and skills as a Hollywood actress (Benze, 2005). There can be little doubt that the defining moment of Nancy’s life was her marriage to  actor and Screen Actors Guild (SAG) President Ronald Wilson Reagan in 1952. Nancy and Ron both agree in their memoirs that they met in 1949, after Nancy, fearing that she might be blacklisted because there was another actress of the same name who was a communist, needed Ron’s intervention through SAG to resolve the situation (Reagan, 1989; Reagan, 1990). However, many scholars question their account of how and why they met. Garry Wills (1987), for example, has argued that Nancy did not need Reagan’s help, because she was already well connected thanks to her mother’s Hollywood friends. Journalist Rick Perlstein also finds Nancy’s account “dubious.” He asserts that the mix‐up with the communist Nancy Davis occurred in 1953 rather than in 1949 (Perlstein, 2014: 561). Other accounts

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suggest that the couple had previously met at a party. It is clear that Nancy was looking to date and win over one of Hollywood’s most eligible bachelors (Ron had recently divorced actress Jane Wyman). One reason why they clicked was that Nancy was willing to listen to Ron’s discussions of politics. Diggins considered Nancy “far more interested in politics and public affairs” than Reagan’s first wife had been; Jane Wyman complained in their divorce papers that he talked incessantly about politics (Diggins, 2007: 79). Ronald and Nancy Reagan married on March 4, 1952 in a private church ceremony in California. Their friends, actor William Holden and his wife Ardis, attended the wedding. On the surface, the two appeared to be total opposites. Ron was cheerful and optimistic while Nancy was a self‐confessed worrier. People instantly liked Ron while they were slow to warm up to Nancy or fiercely disliked her. Yet underneath the surface there were similarities. Both experienced traumatic childhoods. While Nancy was separated from her mother in her early childhood, Ron’s family moved often because his father was a traveling salesman. Both had irresponsible fathers. Nancy’s father deserted her when she was a baby and he was not active in her life, while Reagan’s father Jack suffered from alcoholism. Both had experienced ill‐fated love affairs in their lives. In Nancy’s case it was the tragic death of her first boyfriend, and for Ron it was his devastating divorce from Jane Wyman. Political scientist J. David Woodard has called their marriage “one of the great romances of American politics” (Woodard, 2012: 39). And indeed it was long‐lasting in the Hollywood world as well. As a result, Nancy would have the opportunity to be instrumental in many of her husband’s successes. Journalist Richard Reeves (2005) has stated that Ronald Reagan would probably never have become president of the United States if he had not married Nancy. The actor Jimmy Stewart went so far as to say that,

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if Reagan had met Nancy a few years earlier, he would have won an Academy Award. It is clear that the two complemented each other. Nancy needed Ron’s warmth, optimism, and thick skin. And Ron throughout his career benefited from Nancy’s superior perceptiveness about people and from her readiness to push aside anyone who did not serve his interests (he had more difficulty firing people). In addition, Nancy was considered a better listener than her husband. After marrying Ron, Nancy gave up her acting career in order to focus on her marriage and on raising a family. They had two children together: Patti in 1952 and Ron in 1958. In  addition, Reagan had children from his previous marriage to Jane Wyman: a biological child, Maureen (born in 1941), and Michael (born in 1945), who had been adopted by Ronald and Jane. The Reagans have been criticized for their tumultuous relationship with their children, and the latter were themselves among the critics. Michael and Patti in particular wrote bitter accounts of their relationship with Nancy and Ron that portrayed them as distant and detached (Davis, 1992; Reagan, 1988). The younger Reagans argued that their parents’ own relationship took priority over  their bond with their children. Ron had the closest relationship with his parents; Maureen on the other hand had political views most similar to theirs. Michael and Patti would grow closer to Nancy later on, during Ronald Reagan’s battle with Alzheimer’s before his death in 2004. In recent years they have written books that depict their parents in a more sympathetic light (Davis, 2005; Reagan, 2004). Patti regretted that she had been “an angry daughter” and wished she had been “less strident” during her father’s presidency (Davis, 2005: 21). In the early 1950s Ronald Reagan was struggling with his acting career in Hollywood and was forced to temporarily perform in entertainment shows in Las Vegas. His career took off in 1954, when he

became the television host of the popular show General Electric Theater. In addition to occasionally guest starring in television episodes, he also gave speeches at General Electric (GE) factories throughout the country. This experience was very much part of Reagan’s rightward turn, as he heard protests from executives as well as from workers about high taxes and bureaucracy. Indeed, Reagan had to leave the GE broadcast in 1962 because company executives were receiving complaints that his speeches had become too political. Beyond GE, Reagan was making recordings attacking “socialized medicine,” which he saw lurking in a bill introduced in 1961 that was a precursor to 1965’s Medicare legislation. Thomas C. Reed alleges that Reagan was fired from GE because of pressure from the Kennedy administration, which abhorred his attack on the Tennessee Valley Authority (TVA); GE, which had many contracts with  the TVA, complied (Reed, 2014). Nevertheless, the insouciant Reagan quickly found work in 1962 as the host of the popular western television series “Death Valley Days.” Scholars and journalists debate whether Nancy influenced Ron’s turn rightward. Some accounts portray Nancy as an ardent conservative when she first met Reagan. For  example, Bill Boyarsky referred to Nancy as “deeply conservative” (Boyarsky, 1968). Journalist Haynes Johnson considered Reagan’s marriage “another factor in his political change” (Johnson, 1991: 61). Many accounts portray Loyal Davis, Nancy’s stepfather, as a significant player in Reagan’s rightward turn. According to some writers, for instance journalist Ronnie Dugger and historian Anne Edwards, Reagan was influenced by Davis’s right‐wing ideas (Dugger, 1983; Edwards, 2003). However, Nancy Reagan (1989) rejected this argument, contending that her stepfather was not very  political. Reagan aide Michael Deaver (2004: 45), too, regarded the idea that Davis influenced Reagan’s turn rightward as



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“silly.” Likewise, historian William E. Pemberton (1997) dismissed the notion that Reagan moved rightward because of Davis, pointing out that the actor’s commitment to liberalism weakened before he ever met Nancy and Loyal Davis. Reagan’s cooperation with the FBI as early as 1946, as  a government informant, owing to his concern about communists in Hollywood and their “infiltration” of his industry, substantiates this view (Rosenfeld, 2012: 125). Nancy Reagan aide James S. Rosebush, moreover, dismisses the weight of Nancy’s political inclinations during the early years of their marriage on account of her focus on her family and solidifying their relationship (Rosebush, 1987: 108). Nancy’s stepbrother, Richard Davis, agrees that she “was not at all politically minded” and did not become “politically aware” until her marriage to Ronald Reagan (Wallace, 1986: 7). While not discounting the influence of Nancy and Loyal Davis on Reagan’s conservative evolution, Loizeau (2005) believes that the actor’s time as a GE spokesman was a more compelling factor in his move to the right. Of course, this does not mean that Nancy’s stepfather might not have influenced his son‐in‐law, but it suggests that this influence had limits. By the 1960s Ronald Reagan was a rising star in the conservative movement. The moment that defined his rise on the right was his speech “A Time for Choosing,” which he gave on behalf of republican presidential candidate Barry Goldwater in 1964. In that speech Reagan eloquently hit upon key conservative themes, such as the dangers of big government and the threat of communism. While Goldwater went on to lose the election in a landslide to President Lyndon B. Johnson, conservative activists were impressed with Reagan and believed that he had a bright political future ahead of him. Two years later, right‐wing donors in California convinced Reagan to run for the governorship of that state. To the surprise of political pundits and of his own opponent, democratic Governor Edmund

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(Pat) G. Brown, Reagan won a landslide victory. Nancy later admitted in her memoirs that she had “honestly never expected” her husband to run for office when they first married (Reagan, 1989: 124). She did not connect Ron’s service as head of the Screen Actors Guild and his campaign speeches for  Richard Nixon and Barry Goldwater with any interest in holding political office. Thus the very private Nancy Reagan initially “wanted no part of campaigning” during Ronald Reagan’s 1966 gubernatorial race (Reagan, 1989: 133). During the campaign, though, Reagan’s aides convinced her to give speeches and to hold question‐and‐ answer sessions in numerous California towns and cities. Although proud of her husband’s political successes over the years, Nancy Reagan would never be entirely comfortable with political campaigns, due to her strong sense of privacy as well as because of what she regarded as false attacks on her family by the media and political opponents. The former actor adapted easily to being governor of California. He was a political “natural,” who enjoyed and excelled at giving speeches and interacting with crowds. Furthermore, he had a thick skin and could easily laugh off political attacks with good humor. For Nancy, on the other hand, the transition was much more difficult. Unlike her husband, Nancy was easily hurt by such criticisms. According to Reagan’s biographer Lou Cannon, Nancy was still “learning the ropes” in Sacramento (Cannon, 1982: 144). Journalist Laurence Barrett observed that she “absorbed some hard shots from the press” (Barrett, 1983: 368). One of the first attacks she faced concerned her decision to move the first family out of the governor’s mansion. On this account, critics saw her as snobbish and out of touch, though Cannon points out that she had valid reasons: the mansion was a fire hazard (Cannon, 2003). Journalist Bob Colacello notes that it was in the middle of a busy traffic intersection, too; Nancy feared for her son Ron’s “being run over or the whole place going up in

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flames” (Colacello, 2004: 262). Benze points out that even Nancy’s predecessor Bernice Brown, Pat Brown’s wife, referred to the mansion as “Victorian ugly” and a “firetrap” (Benze, 2005: 27). To Loizeau, the mansion was “rundown, noisy, dark, and inhospitable” (Loizeau, 2005: 48). Reagan’s biographer Anne Edwards believes that Nancy was “understandably upset” by its poor condition (Edwards, 2003: 98). Nancy was probably more deeply hurt by a devastating piece in the Saturday Evening Post, written by Joan Didion. At the time of the interview Nancy thought it had gone well. However, she was shocked to read an article that ridiculed her for everything from her “gaze” to her allegedly phony smile and polite manners (Didion, 1968). Benze and Loizeau suggest that Didion’s shattering essay hardened Nancy’s natural distrust of the media (Benze, 2005; Loizeau, 2005: 53). Cannon believes that one reason why Nancy received such negative press in California was that many of the journalists who covered her were women, and she “related poorly to women” (Cannon, 2003: 235). Loizeau evaluates the female reporters as “the fiercest of Nancy’s detractors” (Loizeau, 2005: 53). It was also in Sacramento that Nancy gained the reputation of someone not to be crossed; Laurence Leamer (1983: 250) described her as “never a lady to forget or forgive.” Aides feared her wrath, and the perception arose that she—not Reagan— was running the state of California. However, Cannon (1982: 244) denounces the idea of Nancy being in control as “hooey.” Ronald Reagan himself pronounced it “a myth that has no foundation in reality” (Reagan, 1990: 184). Michael Deaver’s assessment is likely most accurate; he considered her “a shrewd political player” in California but dismissed the idea that she controlled Reagan, stating that “Nancy wasn’t her husband’s puppet‐master” (Deaver, 2004: 37, 46). Deaver went further to defend Nancy from her critics, suggesting that she

was misunderstood. As long as aides were honest with her and had her husband’s best interests at heart, they would have no problems with her. Regardless of all these considerations, there can be little doubt, as Cannon notes, that Nancy’s eight years in Sacramento were a valuable learning experience that prepared her well for the White House (Cannon, 1982). During her time as first lady in California, Nancy Reagan was involved in a number of causes, such as working on behalf of foster children, supporting returning Vietnam War veterans, and opposing illegal drug use, which is discussed more fully below. Those who knew Nancy sensed a compassion that was at odds with her public image. Indeed, Lou Cannon considered Nancy Reagan “more sensitive to the needs of others than he [Ronald Reagan] was” (Lou Cannon, 2003: 237). The Foster Grandparents Program was one effort near and dear to Nancy’s heart. This program paired children with special needs to elderly people. Benze notes that Nancy actively participated by visiting Foster Grandparent sites, by recording numerous public service announcements, and by convincing the Australian government to create a similar program (Benze, 2005). Nancy also succeeded in persuading the California state legislature (with the help of her husband) to expand the program. Loizeau (2005) points to the influence of her adopted father Loyal Davis and her time as a nurse’s aide as reasons why Nancy was so passionate on this score. She would continue to endorse the Foster Grandparents program during her eight years in the White House, as is evident in her co‐written book To Love a Child (published in 1982). Nancy also championed the cause of returning Vietnam War veterans in California. She visited wounded soldiers in the hospital and she and her husband held dinners for released prisoners of war. In her memoirs, Nancy writes that she would frequently call the mothers and wives of these servicemen



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and that the experience never ceased to move her (Reagan, 1989). According to Loizeau, Nancy’s commitment to veterans was so strong that she visited every hospital in California that housed them. In addition, she wrote a question‐and‐answer newspaper column about American prisoners of war (POWs) and sent the proceeds to the National League of Families of American Prisoners of War and Missing in Action (Loizeau, 2005). Her passion for veterans echoed that of Florence Harding and clearly blazed a trail for later first ladies like Michelle Obama. In 1968, just two years into his governorship, Ronald Reagan made a brief and unsuccessful run for president at the Republican Convention, as California’s “favorite son” candidate. Although many conservative Republicans admired Reagan, the republican nomination ultimately went to former Vice President Richard Nixon, who had of course run a close race eight years earlier against John F. Kennedy. According to many accounts, Nancy did not know that her husband was going to run in 1968; Leighton (1987) claims that Reagan did not consult his wife. According to Benze (2005: 54), Nancy found out about her husband’s candidacy by listening to the radio. Loizeau (2005: 4) records that she was “angered not to have been kept informed.” Ronald Reagan left the governorship of California in 1975, after two terms, his approval ratings still high. Nancy relished the thought of a private life with him, away from the public spotlight. After leaving office, he made a good living from speaking engagements and radio commentaries, and Nancy clearly enjoyed this break from politics. Deaver (2004) later recalled that she did not want Reagan to run for president in 1976 against President Gerald Ford. According to Benze and Loizeau, Nancy, disillusioned with politics, was reluctant to support another campaign because she worried about his health and the possible damage to his political

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career in case he failed (Benze, 2005; Loizeau, 2005). However, she eventually supported Ron’s decision to run that year. She gave speeches and interviews on his behalf, and she also took on a greater role as an advisor and in hiring staff (Benze, 2005). Nancy was especially instrumental in limiting the role of Reagan aide Lyn Nofziger and in promoting political strategist John Sears, who took control of the campaign. Yet conservative activist Craig Shirley argues that the charge that Nancy interfered in personnel decisions was “largely untrue” and contends that her main focus was on “the health and well‐being of her husband” (Shirley, 2005: 114). One person who may have overestimated Nancy’s role in the campaign was Gerald Ford. Ford was set to “bet money” that Nancy Reagan pushed her husband to run for president in 1976 (Cannon, 2013: 389). Nancy Reagan and Betty Ford became surrogates for their husbands’ respective political views in what pundits derisively referred to as the “battle of the queens” (Loizeau, 2005: 65). Betty represented her husband’s more liberal views in support of the Equal Rights Amendment (ERA) and a pro‐choice position on abortion. In addition, she had signaled her own perhaps more liberal views on premarital sex and drug use during a 60 Minutes interview where she said that she would not be shocked if her daughter Susan had an affair or used marijuana. On the other hand, Nancy represented her husband’s conservative stand in her opposition to both  the ERA and a pro‐choice position on abortion. According to Benze (2005: 32), Nancy sought to “draw a distinction” between herself and Betty Ford on these issues. She responded to Ford and her feminist critics by asserting that a woman’s “real happiness” was as a homemaker and that “God made men and women different” (Loizeau, 2005: 65). The differences between the two women went beyond their  political and feminist disagreements. According to Leighton, Nancy thought that

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it was undignified for Betty to publicly discuss her problems with alcohol and prescription drugs and to speculate about the behavior of her daughter. Nancy herself was reluctant to speak in public about her relations with her children (Leighton, 1987). Due to a series of mistakes, Reagan lost to President Ford in the first five primaries (this figure includes a narrow loss in New Hampshire). As a result, his money supply began to dry up. Nancy began pushing for her husband to withdraw from the race and asked Lyn Nofziger (1992) that he also press the issue. Both Colacello and Mann note that Nancy wanted her husband to drop out before the North Carolina primary (Colacello, 2004; Mann, 2009). However, Ron insisted on staying in and contesting Ford all the way to the convention. He was rewarded with a crucial victory in North Carolina. From that point on, he won a string of victories and was approximately one hundred delegates behind Gerald Ford when entering the Republican Convention in Kansas City. At the convention, Nancy Reagan and Betty Ford continued their rivalry and vied for attention. One night Mrs. Reagan arrived on the convention floor only to be upstaged by the first lady, who proceeded to dance with the singer Tony Orlando. According to Loizeau (2005: 66), Nancy “almost went unnoticed as all eyes were riveted upon Betty.” Ronald Reagan, meanwhile, nearly defeated incumbent President Gerald Ford for the republican nomination, but ultimately came up short. Although Reagan lost the nomination, he rose in the estimation of rank‐and‐file Republicans and was seen as the favorite for the 1980 republican nomination, especially after Ford’s loss to Jimmy Carter in the general election. During the next four years Nancy Reagan provided moral and emotional support to her husband as he plotted his next presidential campaign. In 1980 Ronald Reagan ran again for president. As was now customary, Nancy

was actively involved in the campaign. Personnel decisions, as before, were a key preoccupation, and it was Nancy who decided to fire campaign strategist John Sears, who did not always work well with favorites like Michael Deaver and Ed Meese and was blamed for Reagan’s early loss in Iowa as well (Cannon, 2003: 464). As Wills and Cannon conclude, “Nancy Reagan stepped in, and Sears had to step out” (Wills, 1987: 194; Cannon, 2003: 464). Another change instigated by Nancy was to bring back Stuart Spencer, an aide from Reagan’s time in California. Spencer had also helped devise attack ads for the Ford campaign; but, as political journalists Jack Germond and Jules Witcover note, Nancy Reagan was the driving force in bringing him to the Reagan campaign (Germond and Witcover, 1981). Nancy did make some gaffes during the 1980 campaign. Speaking at a fundraiser in Chicago, she praised the “beautiful white people” in the audience. Quickly realizing her mistake, Nancy apologized and pointed out that the remark was inadvertent (Reagan, 1989: 217–218). However, to journalist Ronnie Dugger the misstep represented the Reagans’ callousness and insensitivity towards African Americans (Dugger, 1983). The remark certainly cost Reagan black voters, many of whom were already not inclined to vote for him. During the campaign Nancy expressed her opposition to the idea of Reagan debating Carter. She worried that Ron could make a mistake that might cost him the election (Wilentz, 2008). However, he overruled her, confident that, with his superior oratorical skills, he could win over voters in a debate. Indeed, his outstanding performance convinced many voters that they could safely vote for him. Aside from her active campaigning, Nancy also appeared in a campaign ad for her husband (Shirley, 2009). This was not unprecedented: other presidential candidates’ wives (such as Jacqueline Kennedy in 1960) appeared in campaign ads on behalf



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of their husbands. But Nancy’s role in the White House and in political advising would be much more prominent than Jackie’s had been. On Election Day, Ronald Reagan received over 50 percent of the popular vote and won 45 of the 50 states. From the beginning of his term, however, his wife placed herself at the center of controversy—which started with rumors that she sought to enter the White House before Inauguration Day. Historian Carl Anthony characterizes the critical coverage of Nancy Reagan before the inauguration “unprecedented.” According to Anthony, one has to go back to Mary Todd Lincoln to find a first lady who received such negative press coverage (Anthony, 1991: 324). Gil Troy argues that Nancy Reagan “was the first modern First Lady vilified before taking office” (Troy, 1997: 283). The earliest controversies surrounding Nancy focused on her plans to renovate the White House and buy new china, which seemed thoughtless to many in view of the sharp economic recession of the early 1980s, when unemployment approached 11 percent of the workforce—the highest proportion since the Great Depression. To critics, this demonstrated that Nancy was a materialistic and superficial woman, oblivious and uncaring in regard to average Americans who were suffering in hard economic times. Journalist Laurence Leamer also criticized Nancy Reagan for throwing “seemingly endless parties” in the White House (Leamer, 1983: 376). Nancy defended herself on all counts, noting that the White House was in disrepair, White House china was damaged or missing, and all of the money for the renovations came from private funds and not at the taxpayers’ expense (Reagan, 1989). As for the parties, others since have suggested the importance of the Reagans’ entertaining as a means of fostering diplomatic ties, especially during the waning days of the Cold War (Schifando and Joseph, 2007).

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But many detractors still found Nancy Reagan to be superficial, and even phony in her style and her approach. They criticized her love of jewelry and nice clothes as well as the adoring look that she often gave her husband while he was speaking (Dugger, 1983). To Garry Wills (1987), the Nancy “gaze” was part of a Hollywood performance that she had perfected during her years as an actress. But Nancy Reagan insisted that the “look” that she frequently gave her husband was an authentic aspect of their relationship, and that she really did adore him. Aides and journalists who knew Reagan also insist that Nancy’s demeanor when she was around Reagan was no act. According to Cannon, “[n]o one doubted that the Reagans were very much in love” (Cannon, 1982: 145). Michael Deaver defended Nancy, noting that she “actually did like to listen to her husband’s speeches” (Deaver, 2004: 56). Ronald Reagan’s friend William F. Buckley Junior also validated Mrs. Reagan’s gaze, remarking: “she looks adoringly at her husband because she adores him” (Wallace, 1986: 11). Furthermore, people who knew the Reagans frequently observed them holding hands, hugging, and kissing. It is clear from reading Ronald Reagan’s letters to Nancy and his diary entries that he was deeply in love with Nancy and vice versa (Skinner, Anderson, and Anderson, 2004; Reagan, 2007). Given this foundation of adoration, it can only be imagined how earth‐shattering for Nancy the events of March 30, 1981 were— the day when Ronald Reagan was shot and severely wounded outside the Hilton Hotel in Washington, DC by a mentally unstable man named John Hinckley Junior. Despite Reagan’s seemingly quick recovery (and wise cracks in the face of death), he had been much closer to leaving this world than many people realized at the time. In her memoirs, Nancy referred to the assassination attempt as a “nightmare” (Reagan, 1989: 4). To historian Carl Anthony, Nancy performed a balancing act, “stoic in public, frightened in

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private” (Anthony, 1991: 336). In the aftermath of the assassination attempt, fearing for Reagan’s life and unbeknownst to the public, Nancy began consulting an astrologer named Joan Quigley. Other first ladies, for instance Florence Harding, had also had their spiritual advisers, but Nancy was unusual in that she frequently insisted on revising her husband’s schedule after receiving Quigley’s predictions. She defended her actions by stating: “I was doing everything I could think of to protect my husband and keep him alive” (Benze, 2005: 115). According to Deaver, Nancy was “consumed with her husband’s safety” after Hinckley’s attack (Deaver, 2004: 437). Reagan’s chief of staff, Donald Regan, later wrote a tell‐all book that revealed Nancy’s use of an astrologer (Regan, 1987). To some, this demonstrated that Nancy was an unstable and bizarre woman who held her husband’s presidency hostage to the whims of a psychic. However, Nancy had her defenders. Michael Deaver, who put together Reagan’s White House schedule, considered Nancy’s requests that the schedule be revised according to Quigley’s predictions only a “minor inconvenience” and “an innocent enough quirk” (Deaver, 2004: 138–139). Reagan’s biographer Lou Cannon felt that critics overstated dramatically the impact of Joan Quigley on the Reagan presidency (Cannon, 1991). Benze branded the story as “overplayed” but thought that Nancy “has never been completely forthcoming about her interest in astrology” (Benze, 2005: 515). Reagan scholar Paul Kengor underlines that Nancy’s reliance on Quigley influenced only the president’s schedule, not his policies (Kengor, 2004). To Reagan adviser Stuart Spencer, her use of an astrologer was “nothing earthshaking” (Strober and Strober, 1998: 51). In addition to the assassination attempt on Ronald Reagan, Nancy experienced other tragedies during her years in the White House. Most difficult of all for her were the

deaths of her parents, Loyal Davis and Edith Davis. Nancy’s adopted father Loyal died of heart failure in 1982. Five years later, her beloved mother Edith died from a stroke. Both deaths were bitter blows for Nancy, who was very close to her parents. Ron and she also experienced health scares during the White House years. In 1985 and 1987 the president had polyps removed from his colon and cancerous cells removed from his skin. Also in 1987, Nancy herself was diagnosed with breast cancer and chose to have a mastectomy (removal of the whole breast) rather than a lumpectomy (removal of the tumor), in order to eliminate all chances of any recurring cancer. Even here her critics weighed in, arguing that she should have had the lumpectomy plus chemotherapy. Benze notes that the director of the Breast Cancer Advisory Center asserted that Nancy “set the treatment of breast cancer back ten years” through her more cautious approach (Benze, 2005: 112). Nancy defended her medical decision by arguing that it was “the sensible thing to do, and the best way to get it all over with” (Reagan, 1989: 287). Going through chemotherapy would have made it extremely difficult for her to carry out her duties as first lady, she pointed out. As far as Nancy was concerned, this was a personal decision and other women in the same situation were free to choose a different medical option. Betty Ford, too, had been diagnosed with breast cancer and had chosen to have a mastectomy in 1974; at the time she was praised for her unusual openness about her illness and treatment (see Chapter  32 in this book). Mrs. Reagan was also criticized for her involvement in personnel decisions during Reagan’s presidency, an area in which she had long been interested—since her years in  Sacramento. She was involved in the firing of a number of people in the Reagan White House, including Secretary of State Al Haig, National Security Adviser William Clark, Secretary of the Interior James Watt, and Chief of Staff Donald Regan. To critics,



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this reinforced the notion that Nancy was really the one running the administration. They pointed to instances where she had whispered something in Reagan’s ear at a public event that he appeared to repeat (Wills, 1987). Donald Regan (1987) portrayed Nancy Reagan as a micromanaging busybody constantly interfering in government affairs. Reagan aide Helene Von Damm later also criticized Nancy’s efforts to fire Regan, because they made her own husband “look pathetic and weak” (Von Damm, 1988: 229). Yet Nancy had defenders among aides and journalists for some of the firings. According to Cannon, “Nancy Reagan thought that Haig was making a fool of himself and trying to make a fool of her husband” (Cannon, 1991: 201). Indeed, Haig had mortified Nancy Reagan on the day Reagan was shot by publicly asserting: “I am in control here.” In addition, he was arrogant in his dealings with the president and frequently threatened to resign. Haig had also publicly embarrassed himself on a trip to England early in Reagan’s presidency. He complained when he was not included on a helicopter flight with Reagan  but had to sit instead with lower officials; and he made a faux pas by mistakenly staying in a receiving line with Margaret Thatcher. Reagan biographer Anne Edward believes that Nancy was “right on target” when she urged her husband to fire  Haig (Edwards, 2003: 201). National Security Adviser William Clark, who himself had urged Haig’s firing after the helicopter incident (Smith 2012: 77–78), was also one whom Nancy soon found unsuitable. She viewed Clark as too rigid in his approach to foreign policy (Reeves, 2005). According to historian Paul Kengor, “Nancy did not like Clark’s hard‐line anticommunism and wanted him out” (Kengor, 2006: 191). Secretary of State George Shultz agreed with Nancy, considering Clark “in over his head” (Shultz, 1993: 308).

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Interior Secretary James Watt, whose tendency to make gaffes was already a public embarrassment, had infuriated Nancy by  banning the Beach Boys (one of her favorite bands) from performing on the National Monument in Washington, DC. He later apologized, and she apologized to the band, but then he had to resign after making racially insensitive comments about the membership of a department panel he’d created in September 1983. Most troublesome was Chief of Staff Donald Regan, who was seen as a liability in and out of the White House. Unlike the previous chief of staff, James Baker, Regan had a brusque manner that had led to friction with the press and Congress as well as with Nancy Reagan. Indeed, in Cannon’s words, “[t]he first lady was not alone in wanting Don Regan to depart” (Cannon, 1991: 719). Nancy noticed that Regan often stepped up to answer questions meant for the president at public events; she also felt that he was not giving Ron his best advice. Nancy found Regan chiefly responsible for the Iran– Contra debacle (see below). According to journalist Richard Reeves (2005), Regan had also offended Nancy by hanging up on her multiple times. Many historians and journalists, moreover, noted Regan’s sexist remarks and behavior. In Regan’s world, it seemed, women were seen but not heard; and it aggrieved him that he had to deal with an assertive woman like Nancy Reagan. Carl Anthony condemned his “blatant sexism” (1991: 401–402). Schieffer and Gates (1989: 297) argue that Regan’s “public statements revealed the swaggering bias of an earlier era when male chauvinism flourished.” Reagan’s Press Secretary Marlin Fitzwater later wrote that  Regan “stepped over the line” in his dealings with Nancy Reagan (Fitzwater, 1995: 168). Loizeau agrees with these assessments, noting that Regan “once declared that women didn’t understand anything about missile throw‐weight” (Loizeau, 2005: 117). According to Benze, the chief

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of staff “had come from a corporate background, where very few women had risen high enough to be treated as equals” (Benze, 2005: 78–79). But, to Leighton (1987: 380), Regan was “high‐handed and grating” to women and men alike. In pushing him out, Nancy helped her husband; Regan’s replacement, Howard Baker (no relation to James) was more attuned to the needs of Congress and the media. While Nancy Reagan exerted significant influence on her husband, as noted above, this influence was not unlimited. While he would listen to her, there were many times when he rejected or was slow to take Nancy’s advice. As Richard Reeves (Reeves, 2005: 380) has pointed out: “Sometimes he answered or did what she advised, sometimes he did not.” According to Leighton, the president resisted for many months her advice that he fire Regan; and he became so irritated at her insistence on the matter that he allegedly yelled at her to “get off my goddamn back!” (Leighton, 1987: 783). Despite his seemingly affable and genial nature, Reagan was a stubborn man who could only be pushed so far—even by Nancy Reagan. Lou Cannon (1991) emphasizes this trait and notes that the only clear example of Nancy successfully influencing policy was her support of a softer policy toward the Soviet Union. In part this was because Nancy Reagan (unlike Eleanor Roosevelt or Hillary Clinton) did not have a comprehensive political agenda. In essence, her political agenda, like Edith Wilson’s before her, was the president. In Craig Shirley’s view, she “had no cause except the cause of her husband” (Shirley, 2009: 247). Journalist Laurence Leamer wrote that “Nancy did not care a whit about policy. … She cared about Ronnie and how he appeared, and berated anyone who made him look bad” (Leamer, 1983: 167). In most of the cases where she recommended firings, she felt that the staffers were not looking out for the best interests of her husband. As Cannon has astutely

observed, Nancy was a more perceptive judge of people than Reagan, who tended to take an overly optimistic view of those around him (Cannon, 1991). Nancy Reagan’s signature cause was prevention of drug use, a concern she had focused on back in California as well. Nancy started the Just Say No to drugs campaign during her husband’s first term. She appeared in numerous public venues, and even made a guest appearance on the hit television show Diff’rent Strokes in order to promote her anti‐drug message. Critics such as Garry Wills (1987) considered the Just Say No campaign to be a public relations gimmick designed to improve Nancy Reagan’s image. But, as historian Carl Anthony (1991) points out, her interest in drug use actually began in 1967. To Anthony, the only public relations aspect of Nancy’s Just Say No campaign was her attempt to publicize the issue. Reagan’s biographer Bob Colacello (2004) points out that the Reagans had many friends whose children died of drug overdoses in the late  1960s. Benze (2005) notes that, as California’s first lady, Nancy frequently met with recovering drug addicts, and students who she hoped would hear her antidrug message. Reagan aide Michael Deaver (2004) insisted that the campaign was genuine and pointed to the fact that drug use decreased by the end of the 1980s; and he is not alone in giving her credit for this. Stephen Knott and Jeffrey Chidester point to two studies that they believe demonstrate the success of  Nancy Reagan’s Just Say No campaign. A 1987 study showed that cocaine use had declined for the first time in thirteen years. A study the following year indicated that drug use among high school seniors decreased from 53 percent in 1980 to 39 percent by 1988 (Knott and Chidester, 2005). Gil Troy cites a 1985 survey in which 70 percent of high school seniors considered marijuana to be a dangerous drug. Troy calls this “a striking reversal in less than



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a decade” (Troy, 1997: 292). If so, it did not last long; in 2013 more than 60 percent of twelfth graders thought that pot was not dangerous, according to the National Institutes of Health! (National Institutes of Health, 2013). More long‐lasting in its impact was a bill, the Anti‐Drug Abuse Act of 1986, which Nancy took credit for and which enacted mandatory minimum sentences for drug offenses and particularly stringent penalties for crack cocaine. In the White House, Nancy managed to revise public perceptions of herself with a clever public relations move. In 1982, at the Gridiron Dinner (where journalists and politicians poke fun at each other), Nancy shocked the audience—including her husband—by performing a song and dance routine in which she lampooned her reputation as a lover of lavish wardrobes. The performance brought down the house and helped to soften the press’s portrayal of Nancy Reagan. According to Reagan aide Helene Von Damm, “the press was always willing to give her the benefit of the doubt” after Nancy’s Gridiron Dinner performance (Van Damm, 1988: 187). Benze notes that her performance “marked the beginning of a thaw in the relationship between the media and the first lady” (Benze, 2005: 57). Nancy Reagan’s biographer Pierre‐Marie Loizeau points out that Nancy’s “self‐deprecating performance impressed the Washington media and became headline news” (Loizeau, 2005: 99). According to historian William E. Pemberton (1997: 123), the Gridiron Dinner “helped break the tension” between Nancy and the press. “Gone was the image of a self‐absorbed socialite,” adds J. David Woodard (2012: 230); it was “replaced by one of a politician’s wife who cared what other people thought, and showed it.” On  the other hand, journalist Sidney Blumenthal dismissed Nancy’s performance, arguing that it “simply demonstrated her desire for popularity and her skill at manipulating the press” (Blumenthal and Edsall, 1988: 273).

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Nancy had reservations about her husband’s running for reelection in 1984. She  was concerned about his safety and worried that his legacy could be damaged in a second term. However, she loyally supported him when he decided to run again. In the aftermath of a disastrous debate performance against democratic nominee Walter Mondale, however, Nancy convinced Reagan’s team to change his debating strategy. She felt that they had crammed Reagan with too many facts that threw him off balance in the debate. Benze (2005: 75) described Reagan as “apathetic and dispirited” after his first debate with the Minnesota senator. In the next debate prep session, Nancy walked into the room wearing a jacket. She opened the jacket to reveal a sweater that said “4 MORE IN ’84.” Nancy’s antics amused Reagan and his aides and gave her husband a morale boost as he headed into his second debate with Mondale (Leighton, 1987). Loizeau (2005: 510– 111) believes that Nancy’s actions “lifted up Ronnie’s spirits” and contributed to “a much more relaxed and optimistic atmosphere” in the Reagan camp. As a result, the debate strategy was revamped and Reagan won the debate (and the election) with a quip about his age. In Reagan’s second term, Nancy’s advice helped to influence two significant policy events: negotiations with the Soviet Union and the outcome of the Iran–Contra Affair. Iran–Contra, more than any other event, threatened to destroy the Reagan presidency. It involved two separate controversies: the selling of arms to Iran in exchange for American hostages held by terrorists with connections to the government in Iran; and the use of that weapons money to fund Contra rebels in Nicaragua—an activity that was banned by Congress. The sale of arms to Iran appeared hypocritical, since Reagan had vowed never to negotiate with terrorists. Second, if Reagan had been aware that money was diverted from the arms sales to the Contras, he would have violated the law

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and could be subject to impeachment and removal. For the first time in Reagan’s presidency, a wide swath of the American people were skeptical about him, especially as he had first declared in a nationwide address that no such transactions had occurred and then continued to insist that Iran’s was not a terrorist government. Nancy and other Reagan aides argued that he should admit that the United States did trade arms for hostages; and, after stubbornly holding out, Reagan finally took her advice. However, he insisted that he was not  informed of the Contra operation, which was instead the product of zealous staffers like Lieutenant Colonel Oliver North in the National Security Council; since then, evidence has not shown that he was aware of the Contra deal. It was at this point, too, that Reagan finally yielded to Nancy and at last fired Chief of Staff Donald Regan, who had not served Reagan well during the Iran–Contra crisis. Nancy’s advice here helped save the Reagan presidency. According to Leighton, Nancy in essence served as “an assistant president” during the affair (Leighton, 1987: 390). Journalists Jane Mayer and Doyle McManus argue that Nancy became “the de‐facto chief of staff” during this period. They point out that she was actively engaged in looking for a replacement for Regan and responding to the Tower Report on the Iran–Contra Affair (Mayer and McManus, 1989: 380). To Wilentz (2008: 850), Nancy was “increasingly influential after the Iran– Contra scandal.” Nancy was also an active advocate for negotiating with the Soviet Union. Early in Reagan’s first term, she had opposed what she regarded as the hardline anticommunist policies of Alexander Haig. She had consistently supported the attempts of Secretary of State George Shultz, Haig’s successor as secretary of state, to foster better relations with the Soviet Union. During Reagan’s first term she had flirted with Soviet Ambassador Andrei Gromyko by telling him

she would whisper the word “peace” in his ear every night (in response to Gromyko’s advice that she whisper “peace” in her husband’s ear at bedtime) (Wilentz, 2008: 250). When Soviet Premier Mikhail Gorbachev entered office in 1985, Nancy, along with Shultz and British Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher, urged Reagan to negotiate with the new leader. Many scholars and journalists have praised her efforts to promote better ties between Washington and Moscow. “Not since Abigail Adams and Eleanor Roosevelt,” gushed historian John Patrick Diggins (2007: 350), “has a President’s wife made such a contribution to peace.” Scholar James Mann notes that, even before Gorbachev, during Ronald Reagan’s first term, Nancy “made clear her desire for improved relations with the Soviet Union”; Nancy was “one of the doves” in debates over Soviet policy (Mann, 2009: 228). Benze (2005: 139) argues that she was “a major force behind her husband’s moderating his approach” in the Cold War. Loizeau, moreover, asserts that Nancy “goaded” her husband into changing his rhetoric about Moscow (Loizeau, 2005: 108). Pemberton (1997) also cites a 1982 dinner the Reagans had with the minister Billy Graham in which Nancy encouraged her husband to negotiate. Cannon refers to Nancy’s desire for closer relations with the Soviet Union as her “special cause” and emphasizes that she was “a force for peace” in the Reagan administration (Cannon, 1991: 109). Anne Edwards contends that Nancy “deserves considerable credit for her influence on Reagan’s approach to the  Soviets” (Edwards, 2003: 340), and historian James Graham Wilson echoes this  assessment (Wilson, 2014: 14). Jack Matlock, Reagan’s ambassador to the Soviet Union, believes that Nancy wanted her husband “to go down as a peace president” (Strober and Strober, 1998: 49), and this legacy building was likely a chief concern for her.



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In fairness to Ronald Reagan—whose negotiations with Gorbachev culminated in the signing of the Intermediate Nuclear Forces (INF) Treaty in 1987—his views were in line with those of his wife. To his surprise, Secretary of State George Shultz discovered as early as 1983, at a dinner with the president and the first lady, that “Reagan was much more willing to open relations with the Soviets than [he] had realized”— notes Pemberton (1997: 761). Diggins (2007: 795) argues that, during his presidency, Reagan had a “deep, instinctive desire for peace.” Still, according to Mann, Reagan’s advisers were “taken aback” by Reagan’s desire to eliminate nuclear weapons (Mann, 2009: 39). Cannon considers Reagan more accommodating toward the Soviet Union than many of his advisers during the early years of his presidency. He  cites Reagan’s lifting of the grain embargo on the Soviet Union as an example of his flexibility (Cannon, 1991). Wilson goes so far as to suggest that Reagan sought to negotiate with the Soviet Union the moment he became president in 1981 (Wilson, 2014). Scholars, furthermore, have documented Reagan’s hatred of nuclear weapons and his  fear of a nuclear war. Conservative scholar Steven Hayward claims that Reagan “sympathized with the liberal fear that an accident or miscalculation could lead to an unlimited nuclear war” (Hayward, 2009: 284). Wilentz contends that “Reagan’s basic hatred of nuclear weaponry had not changed since his days as a liberal” (Wilentz, 2008: 165). Reagan’s diary entries also indicate his fear of nuclear devastation. These entries confirm that Reagan was agitated after seeing two popular movies in 1983: War Games and The Day After. In  War Games, a young teenager battles against a computer to prevent nuclear war. The Day After shows the traumatic effects of a nuclear attack on a small Missouri town. These two movies reinforced Reagan’s concerns (Reagan, 2004). Historian Paul

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Lettow argues that Reagan was “an early and ardent proponent of the abolition of atomic weapons and the internationalization of atomic energy” (Lettow, 2005: 4). If Ronald Reagan was easy to convince about the importance of preventing nuclear destruction and preserving peace, Nancy had to work harder to influence her husband’s position on two other issues: Reagan’s stance on AIDS and his insistence on visiting a German cemetery in Bitburg, West Germany. By Reagan’s second term, AIDS was a widespread epidemic taking the lives of thousands of people, yet Reagan was slow  to respond. The AIDS tragedy was painfully brought home to the Reagans when their good friend, actor Rock Hudson, died of AIDS in 1985. Nancy Reagan, along with Surgeon General C. Everett Koop, who had previously been muzzled on the issue, pushed Reagan to address the AIDS epidemic. According to Benze (2005), Nancy convinced Reagan to propose increased spending on AIDS research and to deliver at  last his first major speech on the topic before the American Foundation for AIDS Research. By then, nearly twenty‐one thousand Americans had died. The speech reflected, belatedly, the administration’s recognition of the devastation of this disease. According to historian Sean Wilentz, Reagan’s long failure to address the AIDS epidemic “reflected both a deep‐seated public antagonism toward homosexuality and a political determination by the White House not to rile its supporters in the religious right” (Wilentz, 2008: 185). Other historians, if not finding these motivations foremost in the president’s mind, confirm that Reagan responded “reluctantly” (Diggins, 2007: 322) and “stayed away” from the issue for most of his presidency (Pemberton, 1997: 137). Reagan’s approach was “halting and ineffective” on AIDS, Cannon agrees; he was “slow to join” the campaign against it (Cannon, 1991: 814). Indeed, Reagan’s 1987 address would

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be his sole and most remembered statement about this epidemic, and one wonders whether he would have said anything at all, had it not been for Nancy. In 1985, Reagan was invited by West German Chancellor Helmut Kohl to commemorate a cemetery at Bitburg. It was revealed that Nazi officers were buried in the cemetery. The first lady, many Reagan aides, and also Jewish leaders urged Reagan not to go to Bitburg. Nancy felt that, if Reagan went to the cemetery, the negative publicity would harm his presidency. Reagan stubbornly resisted Nancy’s advice, insisting that he had made a promise to his good friend Helmut Kohl. Unfortunately for Reagan, Nancy was right and the visit to Bitburg was a symbolic and political disaster for him. In addition to Jewish organizations, opposition to the visit came from the US Senate (which unanimously passed a resolution urging Reagan not to visit the site), Protestant and Catholic leaders, a majority of the American people, and the American Legion (Hayward, 2009). Cannon condemns Reagan for his Bitburg stop, asserting that he “inflicted needless political damage on his presidency in the critical opening months of his second term” (Cannon, 1991: 573). Diggins notes that Reagan’s visit further “outraged many Europeans” (Diggins, 2007: 370). According to Wilentz, the call at the cemetery “left permanent political scars” (Wilentz, 2008: 210). The first lady attempted to rectify the situation by having Reagan deliver a speech at the Bergen‐Belsen concentration camp on the same trip, but the damage had already been done when he would not follow her advice earlier. After eight eventful years, the Reagans left the White House in 1989. By then Reagn was once again a popular president, as he benefited from a booming economy and successful negotiations with Mikhail Gorbachev. He also exited office with the satisfaction of seeing his vice president, George H. W. Bush, elected president of the

United States, a succession that had not happened since Martin Van Buren followed Andrew Jackson more than one hundred and fifty years earlier. In retirement, Nancy Reagan wrote a feisty memoir, My Turn, defending her time as first lady (Reagan, 1989). In the memoir she defended the renovations of the White House, the purchase of new china, the Just Say No campaign, her use of astrology, as  well as her involvement in personnel decisions. Two years later writer Kitty Kelley wrote a controversial biography of Nancy Reagan (Kelley, 1991). Her Nancy Reagan was vain, materialistic, controlling, and overly ambitious. Kelley made a number of sensationalist accusations, including charges of extramarital affairs by Ronald Reagan and of an alleged affair between Nancy Reagan and singer Frank Sinatra. Kelley’s book was widely criticized for her inability to support many of her charges. Even Nancy’s children— whose relationship with her was strained— came to her defense. In 1994 Nancy’s life was changed forever when Ronald Reagan was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease. Even before that, Reagan had been forgetting the names of friends and could not finish the punch lines of jokes that he had told repeatedly in the past. For the next ten years Nancy would be her husband’s caretaker. Perceptions of Nancy Reagan changed as the public sympathized with her efforts to grapple with this situation. The Reagans were open about Ron’s condition, hoping to raise awareness of this widespread and debilitating disease, and the former president informed the public of his illness in a handwritten letter. Also in 1994, Nancy Reagan became involved in the Virginia Senate race when former Marine and National Security Council aide Oliver North ran as the republican candidate. North’s involvement in the Iran–Contra Affair drove Nancy to speak out. In her view, he had falsely claimed that Reagan knew that the money from the sale of arms for hostages went to the Contras in



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Nicaragua. Her attacks highlighted a number of ethical issues and helped lead to North’s defeat in a close race. On Election Day, the  incumbent democratic Senator Charles Robb, who had his own ethical concerns, was reelected to the US Senate. Nancy Reagan’s other major cause in her retirement years was her support of stem cell research. She believed that this work could possibly unlock the cure for diseases such as Alzheimer’s. As a result she lobbied members of Congress, and President George W. Bush endorsed limited stem cell research—a controversial technique for some conservatives because of its reliance on human embryo cells. In 2004 Reagan died from the effects of his Alzheimer’s. Many Americans came to Washington, DC to pay their last respects to  Reagan, whose body lay in state in the Rotunda of the US Capitol. Viewers also saw moving images of Nancy Reagan embracing and kissing her husband’s casket at the funeral. As this book goes to print, she is ninety‐four years old; one of her last appearances in public was on the occasion of her visiting her husband’s grave on the tenth anniversary of his death in 2014. Perceptions of Nancy Reagan have changed over the last twenty years. During Reagan’s presidency, she was frequently viewed by critics as a materialistic, superficial woman who spent lavishly on clothes and jewelry and tyrannically fired White House personnel, although even during her term some of those criticisms—especially the emphasis on her superficiality—were attenuating. Since then, a more nuanced picture of Nancy Reagan has emerged. While she was influential in the White House, there were limits to her influence, as Ronald Reagan did not always take her advice, as we saw in the case of Bitburg. Moreover, her role in many of those firings (especially that of Donald Regan) is now seen as salutary, as it is better understood how she helped to stabilize (and even save) the Reagan presidency. During her time as first lady, Nancy

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proved to be a moderating and sometimes decisive influence in the Reagan White House on a variety of issues, including AIDS, the Iran–Contra Affair, and negotiations with the Soviet Union. Indeed, her influence was key in the administration and underlines the increasingly important role of the first lady over the course of the twentieth century that this volume has illuminated. Since leaving office, and particularly since the mid‐1990s, she has been largely perceived favorably by the public due to her handling of her husband’s illness and her preservation of his legacy. Nancy Reagan’s time as first lady will undoubtedly continue to be debated and reevaluated in the years to come. References Anthony, C. S. 1991. First Ladies: The Saga of the Presidents’ Wives and Their Power, 1961–1990. New York: William Morrow. Barrett, L. I. 1983. Gambling with History: Reagan in the White House. New York: Doubleday. Benze, J. G., Jr. 2005. Nancy Reagan: On the White House Stage. Lawrence: University Press of Kansas. Blumenthal, S., and T. Edsall, eds. 1988. The Reagan Legacy. New York: Pantheon. Boyarsky, B. 1968. The Rise of Ronald Reagan. New York: Random House. Cannon, L. 1982. Reagan. New York: G. P. Putnam’s Sons. Cannon, L. 1991. President Reagan: The Role of a Lifetime. New York: Simon & Schuster. Cannon, L. 2003. Governor Reagan. New York: Public Affairs. Cannon, J. 2013. Gerald R. Ford: An Honorable Life. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press. Colacello, B. 2004. Ronnie and Nancy: Their Path to the White House, 1911 to 1980. New  York: Warner Books. Davis, P. 1992. The Way I See It: An Autobiography. New York: Putnam. Davis, P. 2005. The Long Goodbye: Memories of My Father. New York: Plume. Deaver, M. K. 2004. Nancy. New York: William Morrow.

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Didion, J. 1968. “Pretty Nancy.” Saturday Evening Post 241, June 1: 20. Diggins, J. P. 2007. Ronald Reagan: Fate, Freedom, and the Making of History. New York: W. W. Norton. Dugger, R. 1983. On Reagan: The Man and His Presidency. New York: McGraw‐Hill. Edwards, A. 2003. The Reagans: Portrait of a Marriage. New York: St. Martin’s Press. Eliot, M. 2008. Reagan: The Hollywood Years. New York: Thorndike Press. Fitzwater, M. 1995. Call the Briefing. New York: Crown Publishing Group. Friedan, B. 2000. Life So Far: A Memoir. New York: Simon & Schuster. Germond, J., and J. Witcover. 1981. Blue Smoke and Mirrors. New York: Viking. Hayward, S. F. 2009. The Age of Reagan: 1980– 1989. New York: Crown Forum. Johnson, H. 1991. Sleepwalking through History: America in the Reagan Years. New York: W. W. Norton. Kelley, K. 1991. Nancy Reagan: The Unauthorized Biography. New York: Simon & Schuster. Knott, S., and J. L. Chidester. 2005. The Reagan Years. New York: Checkmark Books. Kengor, P. 2004. God and Ronald Reagan. New York: HarperCollins. Kengor, P. 2006. The Crusader: Ronald Reagan and the Fall of Communism. New York: HarperCollins. Leamer, L. 1983. Make Believe: The Story of Nancy and Ronald Reagan. New York: Harper & Row. Leighton, F. S. 1987. The Search for the Real Nancy Reagan. New York: Macmillan. Lettow, P. 2005. Ronald Reagan and His Quest to Abolish Nuclear Weapons. New York: Random House. Loizeau, P.‐M. 2005. Nancy Reagan in Perspective. New York: Nova Scotia. Mann, J. 2009. The Rebellion of Ronald Reagan: A History of the End of the Cold War. New York: Penguin Group. Mayer, J., and D. McManus. 1989. Landslide: The Unmaking of the President, 1984–1988. Boston: Houghton Mifflin. National Institutes of Health. 2013. “News and Events.” December 18. http://www.nih. gov/news/health/dec2013/nida‐18.htm (accessed January 17, 2015). Nofziger, L. 1992. Nofziger. New York: Regnery Publishing.

Pemberton, W. E. 1997. Exit with Honor: The Life and Presidency of Ronald Reagan. Armonk, NY: M. E. Sharpe. Perlstein, R. 2014. The Invisible Bridge: The Fall of Nixon and the Rise of Reagan. New York: Simon & Schuster. Reagan, M. 1988. On the Outside Looking In. New York: Zebra. Reagan, M. 2004. Twice Adopted. New York: B&H Books. Reagan, N. 1989. My Turn: The Memoirs of Nancy Reagan. New York: Random House. Reagan, R. 1990. An American Life. New York: Simon & Schuster. Reagan, R. 2007. The Reagan Diaries. New York: HarperCollins. Reed, T. C. 2014. The Reagan Enigma, 1964– 1980. Los Angeles: Figueroa Press. Reeves, R. 2005. President Reagan: The Triumph of Imagination. New York: Simon & Schuster. Regan, D. T. 1987. For the Record: From Wall Street to Washington. New York: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich. Rosebush, J. S. 1987. First Lady, Public Wife: A  Behind‐the‐scenes History of the Evolving Role of First Ladies in American Political Life. New York: Madison Books. Rosenfeld, S. 2012. Subversives: The FBI’s War on Student Radicals, and Reagan’s Rise to Power. New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux. Schieffer, B., and G. P. Gates. 1989. The Acting President. New York: Dutton. Schifando, P., and J. Joseph. 2007. Entertaining at the White House with Nancy Reagan. New York: William R. Morrow. Shirley, C. 2005. Reagan’s Revolution: The Untold Story of the Campaign That Started It All. Nashville, TN: Thomas Nelson. Shirley, C. 2009. Rendezvous with Destiny: Ronald Reagan and the Campaign That Changed America. Wilmington: ISI Books. Shultz, G. 1993. Turmoil and Triumph: My Years as Secretary of State. New York: Simon & Schuster. Skinner, K., A. Anderson, and M. Anderson. 2004. Reagan: A Life in Letters. New York: Free Press. Smith, H. 2012. The Power Game: How Washington Works. New York: Random House. Strober, D. H., and G. S. Strober. 1998. Reagan: The Man and His Presidency. Boston: Houghton Mifflin.



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Troy, G. 1997. Affairs of State: The Rise and Rejection of the Presidential Couple since World War II. New York: Free Press. Van Damm, H. 1988. At Reagan’s Side. New York: Doubleday. Wallace, C. 1986. First Lady: A Portrait of Nancy Reagan. New York: St. Martin’s Press. Wilentz, S. 2008. The Age of Reagan: A History, 1974–2008. New York: Harper Perennial. Wills, G. 1987. Reagan’s America: Innocents at Home. New York: Doubleday. Wilson, J. G. 2014. The Triumph of Improvisation: Gorbachev’s Adaptability, Reagan’s Engagement, and the End of the Cold War. Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press.

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Woodard, J. D. 2012. Ronald Reagan: A Biography. New York: Greenwood.

Further Reading Boyarsky, B. 1981. Ronald Reagan: His Life and Rise to the Presidency. New York: Random House. Dallek, R. 1984. Ronald Reagan: The Politics of  Symbolism. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Morris, E. 1999. Dutch: A Memoir of Ronald Reagan. New York: Random House.

Chapter Thirty Five

Barbara Pierce Bush: Choosing a Complete Life, I: 1925–1988 Diana B. Carlin

At the turn of the twenty‐first century, 137 American public address scholars identified the “100 Best Political Speeches of the 20th Century” (American Rhetoric, 2008). Martin Luther King’s “I Have a Dream” speech topped the list. Among the famous inaugural addresses, declarations of war, and examples of towering rhetoric from a variety of high‐profile politicians and social change agents were four significant speeches by three first ladies. Two were given by Eleanor Roosevelt on human rights after she left the White House; these were listed fifty‐seventh and one hundredth respectively. The high­ est ranked of the three was Hillary Clinton’s 1995 speech “Women’s Rights Are Human Rights,” delivered at the UN Fourth World Conference on Women in Beijing; it ranked thirty‐fifth. But outdoing Eleanor Roosevelt at forty‐fifth was Barbara Pierce Bush’s 1990 commencement speech at Wellesley College. Interestingly, no speech by Mrs. Bush’s husband, George Herbert Walker Bush, made the list. The Wellesley speech was mired in con­ troversy due to objections from 150 mem­ bers of the graduating class about the choice of Mrs. Bush, who “did not represent the

type of career woman the college seeks to educate” (Butterfield, 1990). The students viewed her invitation as being based on her husband’s accomplishments rather than her own. The speech made the list not because of its public policy impact, but because of its eloquent statement about the conflicts and choices women face in balancing their per­ sonal and professional lives and because of Mrs. Bush’s ability to turn a skeptical audi­ ence into an accepting one. In the late 1980s and the 1990s, family and family val­ ues were at the heart of political debates, and the Wellesley speech merged the per­ sonal and the political. The speech is dis­ cussed in more detail in the next chapter, but it is an appropriate starting point for an examination of Barbara Bush’s life and her role as first lady. The address summarizes who Barbara Bush is, what she believes, and the comfort level she reached with the choices she made in her life, which led to two presidencies—her husband’s and her son’s—and to her self‐described “complete life” (Walsh and Schrof, 1990: 26). Gil Troy (2000: 334), in his discussion of the devel­ opment of the co‐presidency between p­residents and their spouses, noted: “The

A Companion to First Ladies, First Edition. Edited by Katherine A. S. Sibley. © 2016 John Wiley & Sons, Inc. Published 2016 by John Wiley & Sons, Inc.



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Wellesley speech may have been Barbara Bush’s finest moment as First Lady.” Ironically, the speech was given at Hillary Clinton’s alma mater; Hillary (then Rodham) gave the Wellesley student commencement speech in 1969. Hillary challenged political elites of the day, including the com­ mencement speaker, Massachusetts Senator Edward W. Brooke, as she undertook the “indispensable task of criticizing and con­ structive protest.” She advised that “[t]he struggle for an integrated life existing in an atmosphere of communal trust and respect is one with desperately important political and social consequences” (Wellesley College, 1969). The young Hillary represented the women who were caught in the second wave of feminism and who were beginning to question the types of choices Barbara Bush made in her life. Hillary spoke at Wellesley as a commencement speaker again in 1992, as an accomplished lawyer and as the wife of the democratic presidential nominee. That speech acknowledged similar realities to those Barbara Bush addressed in her speech to the class of 1990. Hillary Rodham Clinton explained: “Describing an integrated life is easier than achieving one” (Wellesley College, 1992). Although Barbara Bush and Hillary Clinton addressed Wellesley graduates within two years of each other and touched on similar themes, the differences between the two women were greater than their struggles with choices and their conse­ quences. The two commencement speakers were at the forefront of debate about the role of a first lady and of women at large in American society. In 1992, Bill and Hillary Clinton represented the ascendency of the baby boomers to the presidency and a group of candidates’ wives with careers of their own. George and Barbara Bush served as the last of seven presidential couples of the World War II generation to occupy the White House, Barbara representing those many women of her generation who chose marriage and motherhood as a career.

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A review of Barbara Bush’s years in the White House requires a look at the Pierce and Bush families as well as at the social and political forces that shaped her into a highly popular first lady and into an activist after the White House years. Her experiences as a young wife and mother, corporate wife, and political partner contribute to understand­ ing the impact she had as first lady. Her life is well documented, and those documents provide the framework for this chapter. It is impossible in a volume of this kind to cap­ ture ninety years of a life as full as Barbara Bush’s. The chapter explores the impact of her own time and background on her per­ sonal choices, the influence of these choices on her years as first lady, and the changing historiography that covers her life. Deconstructing Barbara Pierce Bush Barbara Bush was described by one of her biographers, Myra Gutin, as “multifaceted, complete with truths and contradictions” (Gutin, 2008: xiv). A survey of memoirs, biographies, scholarly articles, interviews, news stories, and files at the George H. W. Bush Presidential Library support Gutin’s description. Mrs. Bush claimed to leave pol­ icy to her husband; but she was not without influence, either publicly or privately. She wanted to be viewed as a kindly and witty grandmother; but she was also known to be tough, with a caustic side. Barbara Bush’s two memoirs—A Memoir (Bush, 1994), which covers her life through the White House years, and Reflections: Life after the White House (Bush, 2003), on her post‐White House life and her son’s election to the presidency—provide candid, self‐dep­ recating, and at times guarded glimpses into Barbara Bush the woman, wife, mother, and political partner. The memoirs are peppered with diary entries and letters; opinions of national and world leaders, members of the media, and hundreds of friends; personal struggles; reflections on her two sons’

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p­olitical careers; book reviews, many super­ latives, and an occasional recipe. The two books she wrote from the point of view of her dogs, C. Fred and Millie, were best sellers that provided funds for lit­ eracy programs and jumpstarted the Barbara Bush Foundation for Family Literacy in 1989. They humanized her husband, who was often characterized as patrician and out of touch, and they expounded on the values that guide the Bushes’ lives. Both were well timed to assist George Bush’s goal of occu­ pying the Oval Office. When Barbara first started giving speeches, she used slide shows to detract attention from herself. The books served a similar purpose for the private person who was a public figure (Bush, 1994: 68). C. Fred’s Story: A Dog’s Life was written during the vice presidential years (Bush, 1984). C. Fred introduces readers to the Bush family and to George H. W. Bush’s illustrious career, which took him from the Republican National Committee (RNC) chairmanship in Washington, when C. Fred arrived, to China, back to Washington, to Houston, and back again to Washington and the vice presidential mansion. While the book is a subtle way to get to know the second family, its explicit purpose was to promote and fund Barbara Bush’s literacy cause. The back of the book jacket contains a message from Mrs. Bush that, like the Wellesley speech, ties the public good and strong families together: “Over forty mil­ lion Americans cannot read. … We must solve this problem. You can make a differ­ ence by becoming involved in local organi­ zations and literacy services. Our families, our communities, and our country will be better for it” (Bush, 1984). Millie’s Book (Bush 1990), on the other hand, included more veiled messages that related to the political context within which innocuous activities in the White House occurred. In a nod to frequent comments about Mrs. Bush’s appearance, Millie’s introduction to the room where she gave

birth—the White House beauty salon— illustrated Barbara Bush’s humor. Millie explained that Pat Nixon put the room into the White House “and [it] has been used by every First Lady since, including Bar, in spite of what you hear, read, and see” (Bush 1990: 39). George H. W. Bush authored two books that shed some light on his wife. His p­­re‐presidential autobiography Looking Forward: An Autobiography (Bush, 1987) provides insights into the Bush partnership and into the choices Barbara made to pro­ mote his career. A collection of correspond­ ence titled All the Best, George Bush: My Life in Letters and Other Writings (Bush, 2013) includes letters to his mother about his courtship and early marriage and paints a picture of his wife’s dedication to him, her family, and his ambitions. Other insights into Barbara Bush’s many private and public roles come from two of her five living children—Dorothy “Doro” Bush Koch and George W. Bush—and from her daughter‐in‐law, Laura Welch Bush. The children each wrote books reflecting on their father, but throughout are references to their mother that illustrate both elder Bushes’ impact on their children. The two books retell the stories of Barbara and George’s meeting, their courtship, and their years in Texas, California, Maine, Washington, DC, and China while the fam­ ily was growing and growing up; but each book adds personal touches regarding its author’s reactions to the family lore. Doro’s book, My Father, My President: A Personal Account of the Life of George H. W. Bush (Koch, 2014) gets beyond the stories as told by her parents or from her own expe­ riences and includes memories from her par­ ents’ friends and business or political associates. It has a Foreword by Barbara. George W. Bush, said to be more like his mother than like his father (Gutin, 2008: 150; Kilian, 2002: 53), commented on his mother’s “characteristic bluntness” (Bush, 2014: 37) and on the “quick wit and



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self‐deprecating humor [that] endeared her to millions of Americans.” He acknowl­ edged that “she helped many Americans understand and love her husband. Many people told me that anyone who married Barbara Bush had to be a good man” (2014: 42). His memoir, Decision Points (G. W. Bush, 2010), provides new insights into his relationship with his mother and its ­influence on his political thinking. Laura Bush’s memoir of her life and her years in the White House, Spoken from the Heart (L. Bush, 2010), describes a mother‐ in‐law who had the unique opportunity to offer advice that went beyond the typical words of wisdom from one first lady to another, and discusses the evolution of their relationship. Laura also provides blunt comments about Barbara’s sometimes caustic wit. Three biographies offer complementary perspectives on Barbara Bush’s life and role as a political wife and first lady. The earliest and first full‐length biography, Simply Barbara Bush: A Portrait of America’s Candid First Lady, by Donnie Radcliffe (1989), was written during the first year of the Bush administration. Radcliffe, a Washington Post reporter, followed Mrs. Bush for many years, and her biography is informed by Barbara, family members, and friends. Her summary of Mrs. Bush’s life was that she was “a sympathetic and gentle woman who could also be feisty and sarcas­ tic” (Radcliffe, 1989: xvi). A second journalist, Pamela Kilian, wrote the first post‐administration biography, Matriarch of a Dynasty (Kilian, 2002), whose title reflects the second Bush White House, the governorships of George W. and Jeb, and the potential for a third generation of Bushes to enter public service. Kilian’s twenty years of tracking the Bushes provided insights into Barbara Bush’s “multifaceted” persona and her role as a political partner. The third biography was written by Myra G. Gutin, a communication professor and first lady scholar. Barbara Bush: Presidential

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Matriarch (Gutin, 2008) also acknowl­ edges the dynastic nature of the Bush fam­ ily. Gutin’s biography is enriched by the opening of some of the first lady’s papers at the George H. W. Bush Presidential Library and by interviews with Mrs. Bush and members of her staff. Gutin’s analysis of Barbara’s evolving communication skills illustrates the important role Barbara played in her husband’s political life and in shaping his image. In addition to biographies, the growing canon of first lady literature includes several chapters on Barbara Bush. Such chapters can be found in Margaret Truman’s (1995) First Ladies, Lewis Gould’s (2001) American First Ladies: Their Lives and Their Legacies, Paul F. Boller, Jr.’s (1998) Presidential Wives, Carl Sferrazza Anthony’s (1991) First Ladies: The Saga of the Presidents’ Wives and Their Power, 1961–1990, and Betty Boyd Caroli’s (2010) First Ladies: From Martha Washington to Michelle Obama. Five other books on first ladies contained either chap­ ters on Mrs. Bush or references to her from thematic perspectives about the role of the presidential wife and the type of personal and political partnerships that existed among presidential couples. Kati Marton’s (2002) Hidden Power: Presidential Marriages That Shaped Our History is “a study of husbands and wives at the precarious intersection of power, love and marriage” (Marton, 2002: 4). Marton, like Gutin, paints a picture of Barbara that demonstrates her political savvy and careful image management, which “was contrived but the act worked” (2002: 275). Ann Grimes’s (1990) Running Mates: The Making of a First Lady: A Penetrating Look at Private Women in the Public Eye used the 1988 presidential campaign as the backdrop for examining the growing partnership and power of modern first ladies. In exploring Barbara’s decision to merge the personal and the political, it shows the struggles she faced to stay out of political issues. Gil Troy’s (2000) Mr. and Mrs. President: From the Trumans to the Clintons focuses on

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the partnership elements of political mar­ riages that enabled these presidents to assume the highest office in the land and resulted in a type of “co‐presidency.” Troy examines the varied roles wives play in help­ ing their husbands exercise presidential power. About the Bushes, he concludes: “George Bush needed his wife to help embody his values and provide symbolic cover when his policy, or the nation’s pock­ etbook, would not suffice” (Troy, 2000: 313). Two other books, Robert P. Watson’s (2000) The President’s Wives: Reassessing the Office of First Lady and John B. Roberts II’s (2003) Rating the First Ladies: The Women Who Influenced the Presidency look at vari­ ous studies of first ladies’ popularity ratings, their partnership styles, and their back­ grounds as factors in the roles they played. Both books look at Barbara Bush’s role independently and in comparison to the roles of other first ladies. A final study can be found in Harold I. Gullan’s (2001) Faith of Our Mothers: The Stories of Presidential Mothers from Mary Washington to Barbara Bush; it looks at Barbara Bush as both the wife and the mother of presidents—a role shared only with Abigail Adams. Collectively these book chapters emphasize the impor­ tance of the Bushes’ backgrounds, their marital history, the evolution of Barbara Bush as a political wife, and the unique ways Barbara power‐shared with her husband. Scholarly studies also open a window into her style as first lady. Karlyn Kohrs Campbell’s (1996) “The Rhetorical Presidency: A Two‐Person Career” exam­ ines Barbara Bush’s role in defining George Bush the candidate. Rosanna Hertz and Susan M. Reverby explore the reaction to Mrs. Bush’s Wellesley speech in “Gentility, Gender, and Political Protest: The Barbara Bush Controversy at Wellesley College” (Hertz and Reverby, 1995). Tammy Vigil’s (2014) study of candidates’ wives’ speeches at conventions considers Barbara’s 1992 address. Molly Meijer Wertheimer’s (2004) chapter “Barbara Bush: Her Rhetorical

Development and Appeal” examines Mrs. Bush’s development as a public speaker and explores the success of the Wellesley and of convention speeches. In a somewhat different vein of rhetorical study is Myra Dinnerstein and Rose Weitz’s (1994) “Jane Fonda, Barbara Bush and Other Aging Bodies: Femininity and the Limits of Resistance,” which discusses Mrs. Bush’s “rhetoric of ‘naturalness’” and its part in creating her image as a grandmotherly fig­ ure, while Jane Fonda created a cult of being forever young. In addition to the scholarly articles, there are literally thousands of news articles and interviews with Mrs. Bush. Many of those articles were used to inform this chapter, especially those on her recent opinions about the possibility that a second son would follow his father as president. A final source is the archive at the George H. W. Bush Presidential Library at College Station, Texas, with its files on the Wellesley speech, Barbara’s campaign addresses, and a variety of other talks she delivered as first lady. The files contain notes to her speechwriters and staff, letters, and drafts of speeches that pro­ vide a window into her strategies as a speaker and as an image builder for her husband. Blue Blood Roots with Some Humble Beginnings Family background and early years Few first ladies were as well prepared by vir­ tue of their family backgrounds and their husband’s career as was Barbara Pierce Bush for the hostess, diplomacy, and public rela­ tions roles of the first lady. As a distant rela­ tive of President Franklin Pierce on her father’s side and as the granddaughter of an Ohio state Supreme Court justice on the maternal Robinson side, Barbara Pierce had public service in her DNA. The third child and second daughter of Marvin and Pauline Robinson Pierce was born on June 8, 1925



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in New York—five years after women received full suffrage in the United States. Her family had recently moved to the bed­ room community of Rye, but her mother “returned to the doctor and hospital [in the city] where [her] sister Martha, five, and [her] brother Jim, three and a half, had been born” (Bush, 1994: 5). Five years later her younger brother Scott arrived. She grew up in a comfortable, but not wealthy, upper middle‐class family that had help with the household and the preparation of meals. The Pierce family was originally from Sharpsville, Pennsylvania, where it owned an iron foundry and was among the wealthi­ est in the community until losing its fortune in the 1890s. Barbara’s grandfather, Scott Pierce, moved to Dayton, Ohio, and sold insurance. According to Barbara, the “fam­ ily lived humbly” and her father Marvin “worked hard his whole life, starting in high school” (Bush, 1994: 7). Marvin attended Miami University in Oxford, Ohio, where he earned nine athletic letters, graduated Phi Beta Kappa, and met Pauline Robinson, who was studying to be a teacher at nearby Oxford College. He later earned graduate degrees in engineering from the MIT and from Harvard. He served with the US Army Corps of Engineers during World War I and married Pauline after the war, in 1918. Despite his training, his career path led him to executive positions with the McCall Corporation, which published McCall’s magazine (Radcliffe, 1989: 74). He became president in 1946, and eventually publisher. McCall’s had a plant in Dayton, and Barbara accompanied her father there and spent time with her grandparents. Barbara’s description of her grandmother suggests where some of her own personality traits originated: “she and my Aunt Charlotte put up with no nonsense. They called a spade a spade” (Bush, 1994: 8). Barbara was  close to her father and credited him throughout A Memoir with providing sage advice on marriage, childrearing, finances, and life in general.

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The Robinson family hailed from Marysville, Ohio, where Pauline was one of four children. She was described by Barbara as “a striking beauty” who taught me a great deal although neither of us realized it at the time. Probably her most important lesson was an inadvertent one. You have two choices in life: You can like what you do, or you can dislike it. I have chosen to like it. (Bush, 1994: 9)

Pauline was an avid gardener who was active in the Garden Clubs of America, did needlepoint, and was a “joiner” (Radcliffe, 1989: 77). She was also a profligate spender, always behind on charge accounts, and she died owing antique houses around the country (Bush, 1994: 22–23; Radcliffe, 1989: 78–79). As a result, Barbara was care­ ful with money, especially in the early years of her marriage. Barbara described her mother Pauline as the one who “did most of the scolding in the family” and who dished out the corporal punishment, but only when she and her siblings “deserved” it (Bush, 1994: 10). Pauline also carried most of the responsibility for caring for Scott, who was born with a cyst in his arm that required fre­ quent doctor’s visits and numerous surger­ ies. Pauline’s dedication to Scott and her attention to Barbara’s sister Martha— another family beauty who was featured on the cover of Vogue while a student at Smith—help explain the lack of attention that Barbara often felt from her. Barbara told Donnie Radcliffe that Pauline was “a very good mother [but] ‘I did not have a great relationship with her’” (Radcliffe, 1989: 73). Pauline worried about Barbara’s weight—a problem Barbara shared with her father, unlike her “skinny” sister Martha. Barbara joked about her weight throughout her life and quoted her mother as “saying, all in one breath, ‘Eat up Martha. Not you, Barbara!’” (Bush, 1994: 7). Barbara attended Milton School, a public school, until sixth grade, when she

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transferred to Rye Country Day through ninth grade. Her last three years of high school were at Ashley Hall in South Carolina, where she followed her sister. She explained the choice this way in A Memoir: My mother, who grew up in Ohio, always felt that East Coast people thought every­ one from west and south of the Hudson River was a hick. That offended her, so my sister and I went south to Charleston for school. I also believe it was cheaper than some of the eastern schools, but that was never discussed. (Bush, 1994: 13–14)

At Ashley Hall she was one of 150 teen­ age girls, about half of whom were boarders. Rules were strict. They were forbidden “to wear makeup, leave campus without hats, gloves, and stockings, or date the same boy two weekends in a row” (Radcliffe, 1989: 85). During her teen years she slimmed down, and at five feet and eight inches, with dark hair and dark eyes, she was a striking young woman, as photos that appear in her memoirs and biographies show. She swam, played tennis, acted, and made good grades (Kilian, 2002: 22). Carefully following the dating rules, she discovered that “doing things with boys was just as much fun as doing them with girls” (Bush, 1994: 14). However, she didn’t have a regular beau until fate brought her in contact with George Herbert Walker “Poppy” Bush at a holiday dance in 1941, a few weeks after Pearl Harbor. The First Boy She Ever Kissed The dance at the Round Hill Country Club in Greenwich, Connecticut was a typical one for teenagers in Barbara Pierce’s and Poppy Bush’s social circles. Greenwich was two train stops past Rye on the train from New York, and their fathers commuted on the train unaware of each other. She was sixteen; he was seventeen. She was home from

Ashley Hall; he was home from Phillips Academy in Andover. She was “wearing a pretty, bright, new red‐and‐green dress” (Bush, 1994: 16). A friend introduced her to “a wonderful‐looking young boy he said wanted to meet me, a boy named Poppy Bush.” The nickname came from his mater­ nal grandfather, George Herbert Walker, who was called “Pop” (Bush, 1988: 28). She remembers that “[w]e danced a little, and it was fun talking to him. He asked if I’d mind sitting out the next dance as it was a waltz and he didn’t know how” (Bush, 1994: 16). George remembers: The band was playing Glenn Miller tunes when I approached a friend from Rye, New York, Jack Wozencraft, to ask if he knew a girl across the dance floor, the one wearing the green‐and‐red holiday dress. … he introduced us, just about the time the bandleader decided to change tempos, from foxtrot to waltz. Since I didn’t waltz, we sat the dance out. And several more after that, talking and getting to know each other. (Bush, 1987: 31)

Poppy Bush was the second of five chil­ dren (four boys and one girl) of Prescott and Dorothy Wear Walker Bush; he had a pedigree that “merg[ed] ancestry with afflu­ ence” and included a distant relationship to Britain’s Queen Elizabeth (Gullan, 2001: 341). Prescott Bush was originally from Columbus, Ohio, where his father Samuel Prescott Bush was a steel company presi­ dent. Bush’s father was a Yale graduate, fol­ lowing in the steps of his paternal grandfather and preceding three more generations of Bushes who attended Yale. After a series of positions in the Midwest and New England, he forged a career on Wall Street as an investment banker, first in a firm headed by his father‐in‐law, George Herbert Walker. He was a social activist involved in the United Negro College Fund and Planned Parenthood, and he challenged his chil­ dren “to make something of themselves,



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particularly in a commitment to serving others” (Gullan, 2001: 345). Prescott Bush set an example of service for his children as a US senator from 1953 until 1963. Dorothy came from a line that “arrived on the rugged coast of Maine in the seven­ teenth century” before moving to Maryland and, later, to St. Louis. The family wealth was anchored in a dry goods business (Gullan, 2001: 342) and, later, in an invest­ ment firm, G. H. Walker and Company (Bush, 1987: 28). Similar to Barbara, athletics were part of her pedigree. Her father donated golf’s Walker Cup, and she was “a match for anyone in tennis, golf, basketball, baseball” (1987: 26). She was born near Walker’s Point in Maine, where the family had a summer home, and grew up in St. Louis. She attended a preparatory school, Miss Porter’s School, in Farmington, Connecticut—the same school attended by her daughter Nancy and her granddaughter and namesake Doro. She and Prescott met in St. Louis and were married in 1921 at the Church of Saint Ann in Kennebunkport—a church that plays an important role in the Bushes’ family life in Maine. Together, the Bushes “hewed to the Protestant ethic. They believed in hard work, temperate living, and daily bible read­ ings. … [Prescott] expected a lot of his chil­ dren” (Kilian, 2002: 25). While considered more fun than her austere husband, Dorothy stayed “on the alert for anything that sounds like ‘braggadocio’ coming from one of her children” (Bush, 1987: 26). George Bush was influenced equally by his two parents, and it is not surprising that the young Barbara Pierce, who was originally smitten by “the handsomest‐looking man you ever laid your eyes on, bar none” (Kilian, 2002: 24), found far more than looks to sustain the attraction. The romance moved quickly after the dance. The next morning, after Barbara had divulged the events of the night before, her mother undertook an “FBI‐like” investiga­ tion through her “superior intelligence

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network,” which revealed the young Bush to be “a wonderful boy who comes from ‘a very nice family’” (Bush, 1994: 17). Barbara and Poppy returned to their respective schools and corresponded. After attending his senior prom, she received her first kiss ever “on the cheek” (1994: 18). She claimed that, when she relates to her children that she married the first man who ever kissed her, “they just about throw up” (Radcliffe, 1989: 99). On his eighteenth birthday, on June 12, 1942, George joined the navy and started basic training. The two continued their cor­ respondence, and on her way back to Ashley Hall for her senior year Barbara stopped for a few hours in North Carolina, where George was training. They both remember that he asked her to tell everyone she was eighteen, but no one asked. After her gradu­ ation from Ashley Hall in 1943 and his completion of training, George had seven­ teen days of leave. His mother invited Barbara to the Maine summer home—a home that would eventually become theirs and a summer White House. During that trip she not only met George’s grandpar­ ents, five sets of his aunts and uncles, and his siblings, but also acquired her nickname “Bar” after the Bushes’ horse, Barsil. According to Barbara, the family was “over­ whelming” and “the teasing was enormous from everybody, except George’s mother,” whom she describes as “the most wonderful woman” who “had an extraordinary ability to see good in everyone without sounding insincere” (Bush, 1994: 19). Before George left for his ship and she left for Smith College, he and Barbara became secretly engaged. At Christmas during her freshman year, they told their families of their secret engagement. George wrote in his autobiog­ raphy that it was “[s]ecret, to the extent that the German and Japanese high commands weren’t aware of it” (Bush, 1987: 31). Barbara wrote of her family’s response: “So, you’re going to marry Poppy. How

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nice” (Bush, 1994: 20). Soon after, George’s ship was commissioned for service in Philadelphia with Dorothy and Barbara in attendance, and Dorothy delivered the engagement ring for George to give to Barbara. For the next year, while George was deployed on the Pacific front, mail was intermittent. He was scheduled for a leave in the fall of 1944, and the wedding was planned for December. However, his plane was shot down in September and he was rescued by a nearby submarine. George returned to his ship, and his leave was postponed. The original wedding date of December 17, 1944 was scratched out on the invitations and replaced by January 6, 1945; the wedding took place at the Rye First Presbyterian Church, the groom in his navy uniform and the bride in a satin dress, her mother‐in‐law’s veil, and new shoes. Mrs. Pierce “begged and borrowed shoe coupons from friends since shoes were rationed during the war” (Bush, 1994: 22). The groom was twenty and the bride nineteen, and their parents had to sign for them to marry. Barbara noted their young ages in A Memoir, but pointed out: “In wartime, the rules change. You don’t wait until tomorrow to do anything” (1994: 22). George Bush described young people in the 1930s and 1940s as “living with what modern psychologists call heightened awareness, on the edge. It was a time of uncertainty” (Bush, 1987: 31). And the Bushes weren’t alone. “An average of one thousand servicemen were getting married every day; one and a half million soldiers would tie the knot between Pearl Harbor and the end of the conflict” (Troy, 2000: 311). After a honeymoon at the Cloisters in Sea Island, Georgia, George returned to active duty and Barbara, who had left Smith prior to the wedding, followed him to vari­ ous bases for the next eight months, while he prepared to return to the front for a possible invasion of Japan.

Early married years Victory over Japan Day (VJ Day), however, ended the war while George was still state‐ side, and the young couple prepared for his delayed matriculation to Yale on the GI Bill. They headed to New Haven, with his $5,000 in navy savings and plans to live frugally. An economics major, he was cap­ tain of the baseball team, played soccer, served as president of his fraternity, and was elected to Phi Beta Kappa and to the secretive Yale society Skull and Bones. He became involved in the United Negro College Fund, as did Barbara (Radcliffe, 1989: 102). She had a part‐time job at the Yale co‐op, kept score at his baseball games, learned about cooking and cleaning through trial and error, and gave birth to their first child, George (“Georgie”) Walker Bush, on July 6, 1946. They lived in communal apartments with shared bath­ rooms and kitchens. George’s lifetime habit of inviting friends for dinner with lit­ tle or no warning for Barbara started with a Thanksgiving dinner for ten Andover friends at Yale. Their tiny apartment had no dining room, and the cleanup took her three days (Bush, 1994: 26). Barbara could have continued her col­ lege education at Connecticut College; but, in the spirit of conserving George’s navy savings and of being independent, she did not want to ask her father for tuition. She said in A Memoir that she “had every opportunity to finish my education, both then and in later years. George would have been very supportive. I chose, instead, to have a big family” (Bush, 1994: 26). And she was not alone in those choices. In the 1940s between 3 and 5 percent of females aged between twenty and twenty‐four were enrolled in college, by comparison to 28 percent in 1991, when Barbara was first lady (Snyder, 1993). Moreover, women were starting families in record numbers during the first years of the baby boom, which lasted until 1964.



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George’s final months of college were spent while the young couple were deciding what to do next; but they were firm in their resolve to do it on their own, with the $3,000 left in navy savings. George wrote in his 1987 autobiography: The world I’d known before the war didn’t interest me. I was looking for a different kind of life, something challenging, out­ side the established mold. I couldn’t see myself being happy commuting into work and then back home five days a week. Fortunately, I’d married someone who shared these ideas about breaking away. (Bush, 1987: 22)

They considered farming but, after “read[ing] some books by Louis Broomfield” that made farming sound “very romantic and idealistic” but also requiring “a lot of money to invest” (Bush, 1994: 30), they looked elsewhere for a life different from the New York bedroom communities of their childhoods. While turning down offers from family members to enter the world of Wall Street and an opportunity with Procter and Gamble, they did accept help from Prescott Bush’s Yale Bones brother, Neil Mallon. Mallon headed an oil company, Dresser Industries, with a subsidiary, Ideco (International Derrick and Equipment Company) in Odessa, Texas. After gradua­ tion on June 3, 1948, George packed up his 1947 red Studebaker, which was a gradua­ tion gift from his parents, and headed west. Barbara and Georgie followed a week later. Barbara’s mother thought they had moved to the edge of the world: they “could have been living in Russia. … She sent me cold cream, soap, and other items she assumed were available only in civilized parts of the country. She did not put Odessa in that cat­ egory” (Bush, 1994: 32). They lived in a two‐room duplex with a shared bathroom. Their original neighbors were a young couple. When they moved out, three women moved in; the younger two engaged in “questionable occupations”

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with “gentlemen callers [who] had a hard time remembering to unlock the other [bathroom] door” on the Bushes’ side (Bush, 1994: 32). During their time in Odessa, Barbara suffered the first of two miscarriages that she never discussed pub­ licly. A reference to the first is found in a letter that George wrote to his mother in October 1948: I think that physically the last few days have been rough on her, and I know that her disappointment over this miscarriage was large. As I told you before we both are sort of hoping that we will have another child before too long. (Bush, 2013: 65)

He went on to write glowingly of her: “She is something, Mum, the way she never ever complains or even suggests that she would prefer to be elsewhere. She is happy. … I continue to be amazed at her unselfish­ ness, her ability to get along with absolutely anyone” (2013: 65). Those traits contrib­ uted later to her successes as a political wife and first lady. Their time in Odessa was short. By April 1949 they were on their way to California for work at another Dresser subsidiary. During their year in California, they lived in four cities, Compton being the last and the place where their daughter “Robin”— Pauline Robinson Bush—was born. Robin was the namesake of Barbara’s mother, who died tragically in an auto accident that also injured her father a few months before Robin’s birth, in December 1949. Because of her pregnancy, Barbara was unable to attend the funeral. A year after the California move, they were back in Texas, but this time in Midland, where they bought their first house for “just under $8000” (Bush, 1994: 39). By the end of 1950 George and a neighbor started their own business—Bush– Overby Oil Development Company, Inc., with startup funds from uncle Herbie Walker.

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In 1953 the Bushes’ third child, John Ellis Bush (Jeb) arrived. A few weeks later a life‐changing event occurred; their daughter Robin was diagnosed with leukemia. Rather than follow their doctor’s advice of taking her home and waiting for her to die in the next couple of weeks, they took her to Memorial Sloan‐Kettering in New York, where George’s uncle, Dr. John Walker, was on staff. Over seven months they shuttled between New York and Texas, returning Robin to her home during the good times in her treatment. Robin died in October 1953, with both Barbara and George at her side. They started the Bright Star Foundation to support leukemia research; Robin’s name is also attached to the M. D. Anderson Center’s childhood cancer clinic in Houston. In the aftermath of Robin’s death, Barbara “fell apart” and George frequently “would put [her] back together again” (Bush, 1994: 45). George W. wrote: “While I was too young to fully understand Robin’s death, I sensed that Mother was hurting. … she suf­ fered bouts of depression that would plague her periodically. At twenty‐eight, her dark brown hair started to turn white” (Bush, 2014: 56). It wasn’t until Barbara heard seven‐year‐ old Georgie say that he couldn’t play with a neighbor because he couldn’t leave his mother that she pulled herself together and threw herself into family responsibilities and volunteer work (Bush, 1994: 47). There was, however, a void—one left by a girl, whom George wrote longingly about in a letter to his mother: “We need a girl. We had one once—she’d fight and cry and play and make her way just like the rest. But there was about her a certain softness.… Her peace made me feel strong, and so very important” (Bush, 2013: 82). He kept his own suffering quiet until he answered a skeptical reporter’s question in 1980 about any personal difficulty he had experienced. He answered with a question: “Have you ever sat and watched your child die? … I did for six months” (Bush, 2014: 57).

The Bushes did move on with their lives and added three more children—Neil Mallon in 1955, Marvin Pierce in 1956, and the much longed‐for girl, Dorothy (“Doro”) Walker, in 1959. At some point around the time her son George W. was fourteen and had a new driver’s permit, Barbara suffered a second miscarriage, only divulged in 2010 with her permission. George W. described the day he drove his mother to the hospital while she carried a jar with the “remains of the fetus. … [and he remembered] think­ ing: There was a human life, a little brother or sister” (G. W. Bush, 2010: 8). What he did for his mother that day “helped deepen the special bond between us” (2010: 8) that started in the aftermath of Robin’s death. These close ties forged through tragedies sustained the Bushes through many other family setbacks, from children’s divorces to disappointing political losses to depression. Barbara Bush’s reflections on the lessons learned from Robin’s death and her obser­ vation about her own mother’s contrasting approach of waiting for her ship to come in when it already had (Bush, 1994: 9) explain in large part why she believes she has lived a complete life without regrets. The Birth and Growth of a Political Partnership The Bush family spent nine years in Midland. During that time Bush‐Overby joined forces in 1953 with another company to form Zapata Petroleum, which was inspired by the movie Viva Zapata! starring Marlon Brando. Zapata split in 1959 and the family moved to Houston, where George took over the offshore drilling division. Barbara was pregnant with Doro at the time and oversaw the construction of a new house (Bush, 2014: 64–65). With a large family and responsibilities as a corporate wife, the Bushes “answered a newspaper ad to spon­ sor a lady from Mexico to help with the housework” (Bush, 1994: 54). Paula



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Rendon entered their lives and stayed throughout their many moves, including the post‐White House years in Houston. As the oil business was doing well and their finances were secure in 1962, George decided to become more active in Republican Party politics. His first race, for the position of party chairman in Harris County, was a successful one. George went to all 210 county precincts and it was at this point that Barbara, while mingling with the voters, “took up needlepoint, just to keep from looking and feeling bored to death,” since she “had heard George’s speech two hundred times!” (Bush, 1994: 57). The needlepoint may have served another purpose, unknown to Barbara at the time. One woman suffrage leader in the 1860s had found that, by “calmly knitting [during Kansas constitutional debates] … as though she were sitting in the middle of a parlor,” she was more effective in her efforts to lobby delegates on women’s rights (Eickhoff, 2006: 149). A century later, when such images were still salient, Barbara too found that needlework helped her appear to be firmly anchored in the “domestic sphere” and to have left the issues to her husband while she provided wifely support. The reality was that she was her husband’s eyes and ears even in that first contest; and she went as far as to wear a name tag that only said “Barbara,” so that people would be honest with their com­ ments (Bush, 1994: 58). The chairmanship was followed in 1964 by an unsuccessful bid for the US Senate. In 1966 George ran successfully for a House seat in a new congressional district. The family sold the home, bought a townhouse for trips back to the district, and moved to Washington. George W. was at Yale and Jeb was at Andover. Barbara joined other con­ gressional wives through the bipartisan International Club II, which her mother‐in‐ law had co‐founded while Prescott Bush was in the Senate, and the 90th Club, made up of the wives of freshmen who entered the

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ninetieth Congress. She took advantage of living in Washington, DC by educating her children at the many historical sites and museums. She also began her more visible, independent activities as a political wife with a newspaper column, “Washington Scene”— reminiscent of Eleanor Roosevelt—for the Houston papers. She gave speeches with slides taken around Washington, primarily in order to raise “money for different causes by showing them to schools, garden clubs, civic groups, churches, and so on” (Bush, 1994: 68). She held weekend cookouts for neighbors and friends, including a party with former President and Mrs. Lyndon Baines Johnson (1994: 76). During the Washington years, Barbara both started and stopped coloring her hair when a home dye job “melted” during a humid plane trip. Her white hair became her trademark. The halcyon days of Washington ended, how­ ever, after two terms, in 1970, when George ran a second time for a Senate seat at President Richard Nixon’s urging and was defeated. The Bushes prepared to return to Texas, but Richard Nixon “owed” George Bush for forfeiting a safe seat for the good of the party, and George and Barbara soon found themselves in New York in yet another resi­ dence. This time it was apartment 42A in the Waldorf Towers—the home of the US ambassador to the United Nations. Barbara’s experiences with the International Club and her genuine ability to connect with people made the hostessing and diplomacy parts of the job easy for her. She “learned that a touch, many smiles, much interest, and lots of honest affection were a universal lan­ guage” (Bush, 1994: 88). Being in New York gave her an opportunity to return to Memorial Sloan‐Kettering, where she vol­ unteered once a week. The two years at the United Nations also gave her a chance at international travel that would serve her well as the second and first lady of the land. As a Cabinet wife, Barbara Bush was expected to assist with President Nixon’s

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reelection campaign in 1972, which further honed her skills on the campaign trail. Nixon’s reelection brought a new assign­ ment back in Washington—George became head of the RNC—though Barbara opposed the move on account of the travel and the nature of party politics (Bush, 1994: 98). Her concerns were well founded, but for a reason that emerged after the election: Watergate. While back in Washington and raising Marvin and Doro, she resumed many of her former activities. George skillfully navigated the RNC through the difficult shoals of Watergate, and after Nixon’s resignation he made way for the first woman, Mary Louise Smith, to suc­ ceed him as head of a national party. George’s loyalty paid off again, and he accepted the position of US liaison to China. Nixon and Henry Kissinger had opened China to the West in 1972, but full diplomatic relations were not yet established in 1974. Barbara seized this as an opportunity to get her hus­ band back after all of the traveling he did as RNC chair. The Bushes welcomed guests— governmental, family, and friends; engaged in diplomatic meetings with the Chinese; rode bicycles around Beijing; walked their dog C. Fred (who was mistaken for a cat); and visited historic sites throughout the country. After two years in China, George and Barbara returned to Washington for George to become director of the CIA. Barbara was reluctant to leave China and was concerned about what the children would think about the appointment at a time when the CIA was under attack. She asked George W. to “feel out his brothers and sisters very discreetly” (Bush, 1994: 131). Their desire to have their parents home overrode their discomfort with the CIA. Along with the political reasons for her concerns, Barbara realized that, for the first time in over thirty years of married life, she could not share in what George was doing. C. Fred explained it in his book: “The fol­ lowing is what Bar and I knew about

George’s job:” (Bush, 1984: 35). The colon was followed by nothing but blank space on the page. Although she threw herself into a regular schedule of volunteer work, tennis, and entertaining, there was a void in her life. Not only could her husband not talk about his work, but the nest was empty with Marvin in college and Doro at Miss Porter’s. In her memoir she opened up for the first time about this period, in which she “was very depressed, lonely, and unhappy” (Bush, 1994: 135). She kept her suffering hidden from everyone but her husband, “who held me weeping in his arms while I tried to explain my feelings” (1994: 135)—which included thoughts of suicide. In her memoir Barbara recognized that the combination of life changes, including ­menopause, created a “classic case for depres­ sion” (1994: 135) and noted years later that, if she could have lived it all over again, she would have sought help (1994: 136). What Barbara Bush experienced was not unlike what Betty Friedan (2001: 57) called “the problem that has no name.” Friedan’s book, The Feminine Mystique, first published in 1963, described the lives of millions of American women of the 1950s and 1960s who appeared to have everything but were “afraid to ask … ‘Is this all?’” (Friedan, 2001: 57). Barbara eventually found that there was certainly more in her life, not least the family she so loved. After Gerald Ford’s loss to Jimmy Carter in 1976, the Bushes headed back to Houston to a new house, and George began laying the groundwork for his own presidential run in 1980 and enjoying time with his and Barbara’s first two grandchildren, George P. and Noelle, children of Jeb and his wife Columba. In 1979, with the presidential primary season underway, George declared his intention to run for the republican nom­ ination. Barbara—who thought her hus­ band was “the right person at the right time for the job” (Bush, 1994: 141)—was faced with the need to answer the common ques­ tions asked of candidates’ wives, including



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what cause she would champion if her hus­ band were elected. Her response continues to impact thousands of Americans more than twenty years after she and George left the White House. Her choice of literacy as her “cause” was explained this way: I felt the subject I chose should help the most people possible, but not cost the government more money and not be con­ troversial. A president has enough trou­ bles—he does not need a wife to stir up more controversy for him. … I realized everything I worried about would be bet­ ter if more people could read, write, and comprehend. More people would stay in school and get an education, meaning fewer people would turn to the streets and get involved with crime and drugs, become pregnant, or lose their homes. It seemed that simple. I had found my cause. (Bush, 1994: 145)

She didn’t get to promote her cause as first lady in 1981 due to Ronald Reagan’s successful bid for the nomination and elec­ tion to the presidency. However, she put literacy on the national radar screen as sec­ ond lady for two terms, after Ronald Reagan unexpectedly asked George to run on the ticket.

Making the Most of the Second Ladyship For eight years starting on January 20, 1981, the Bushes occupied the vice presi­ dent’s residence on the grounds of the Naval Observatory. It was the longest they had stayed in one of their almost thirty residences up to that point in their mar­ riage. Barbara and friends raised money to restore and redecorate, and the Bushes— true to form as entertainers—took advan­ tage of the house by hosting 1,192 events (Bush, 1994: 167). But Barbara’s years as second lady were not limited to her acting

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as a hostess. Barbara recounted that she spent 1,629 days traveling 1.3 million miles throughout the United States and abroad, attended 1,232 events in Washington, placed the star on top of the national Christmas tree eight times, often accompanied by grandchildren in a cherry picker, wrote C. Fred’s Story to raise money for literacy foundations, and paved the way for her husband’s future presidency (Bush, 1994). She gave hundreds of speeches on behalf of literacy. Her long‐standing work as a volunteer added another 453 events (1994: 218). And she did all of this with­ out upstaging First Lady Nancy Reagan, whom she described as being “more than nice” (1994: 156) to her and with whom she shared many experiences, including several events with Raisa Gorbachev. Speaking of the Reagan–Bush spouses, biographer Donnie Radcliffe (1989) observed, however, that they had “vastly different values (15) and “at its best, their relationship was courteous, at its worse, remote” (Radcliffe, 1989: 13–14). But Barbara had also striven to reduce any dif­ ferences by employing what became increasingly her trademark: a self‐depreca­ tory humor (Anthony, 1991: 414). Barbara avoided controversy as second lady—with a single major exception. During the 1984 campaign, Congresswoman Geraldine Ferraro made history as the first woman on a major party ticket. Barbara later admitted that, after months of cam­ paigning and gaining familiarity with the traveling press corps, she let her guard down while discussing a presidential debate between President Reagan and challenger Walter Mondale. George Bush’s wealth and blue blood heritage were targets during the campaign and debate, even though Ferraro and her husband were millionaires. In response to barbs by members of the press corps about a reference to their wealth in the debate, Barbara said: “That rich … well, it rhymes with rich … could buy George

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Bush any day” (Bush, 1994: 195). Needless to say, this became headline news. Barbara was aghast and called Ferraro to apologize for suggesting she was a “witch” and pub­ licly said she regretted the comment. The episode earned her the appellation of “poet laureate” from the family, and they later laughed about it (1994: 196). At the time, however, she told her sister‐in‐law Nancy Bush Ellis: “I just can’t believe I did that to your brother. … I’ve been crying for twenty‐ four hours and I’ll never stop. … How could I have done it?” (Radcliffe, 1989: 55). The incident says many things about the complexities of Barbara Bush. She was raised to be a lady and circumspect about what she did in public. Her comments about her literacy choice indicate that she was well aware of the need to avoid any­ thing that could appear too political or could reflect poorly on her husband. However, she was also known since child­ hood to have a “caustic tongue” that “could freeze out other children or saddle them with the kind of nickname that hurt,” according to childhood friends (Gutin, 2008: 2). Her daughter‐in‐law Laura agreed that “she was also ferociously tart‐ tongued. She’s never shied away from say­ ing what she thinks. … She’s even managed to insult nearly all of my friends with one or another perfectly timed acerbic comment” (L. Bush, 2010: 124). And, while Mrs. Bush wrote that she regretted her com­ ment about Ferraro (Bush, 1994: 196), both of her memoirs admit that her wit could get out of control. Biographer Myra Gutin attributed the comment less to what Mrs. Bush thought was off the record and spontaneous and more to something stra­ tegic: “A more likely scenario was that Mrs. Bush wanted to push the notion that Ferraro was just as affluent as the vice pres­ ident, but once the idea was planted, she backed away from her statement” (Gutin, 2008: 26). Whether the “gaffe” was a con­ scious strategy or not, Gutin’s Barbara was

masterful at drawing on the apolitical ­persona she cultivated to get her out of tight spots. During the vice presidential years she met with many world leaders and their wives. One couple played a key role during the Bush administration. Barbara met Raisa Gorbachev during one of the Gorbachevs’ visits to the Reagan White House in 1987. The relationship grew during the presiden­ tial years, and Mrs. Gorbachev played an important role in the Wellesley commence­ ment address scenario. The first meeting between the two women involved some ste­ reotyping of Mrs. Bush by the Russian first lady and reveals something about the diplo­ matic skills Mrs. Bush learned from her years at the United Nations and in China. Mrs. Gorbachev, who was viewed as a styl­ ish intellectual, had the impression that the vice presi­ dent’s wife was a snowy‐haired home­ maker type, not a glamorous clotheshorse like Mrs. Reagan, so she offered to share a recipe with her for her favorite blueberry dessert. “Raisa,” said Mrs. Bush pleasantly, “do you cook at home?” “Well,” stuttered Mrs. Gorbachev, a bit taken aback, “some­ times.” “Well,” Mrs. Bush went on, “I never cook at home, so let’s talk about something else.” They ended up having a good discussion about education. (Boller, 1998: 478)

In A Memoir Mrs. Bush wrote of her respect for Mrs. Gorbachev and of the prob­ lems Raisa had in Russia as “the first wife of a Russian leader to surface in the public eye”; she opined that, in Russia as in the United States, “[a] spouse has a fine row to hoe. … I am not too sure that the American public likes the spouse to be too front and center” (Bush, 1994: 213–214). That state­ ment said a great deal about the way she approached the next phase of her political life—wife of a presidential candidate and then of a president.



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References American Rhetoric. 2008. “Top 100 Speeches.” http://www.americanrhetoric.com/newtop 100speeches.htm (accessed February 12, 2015). Anthony, C. S. 1991. First Ladies: The Saga of the President’s Wives and Their Power, 1961–1990. New York: William Morrow. Boller, P. F., Jr. 1998. Presidential Wives: An Anecdotal History. New York: Oxford University Press. Bush, B. 1984. C. Fred’s Story: A Dog’s Life. New York: Doubleday. Bush, B. 1990. Millie’s Book: As Dictated to Barbara Bush. New York : William Morrow. Bush, B. 1994. A Memoir. New York: Scribner. Bush, B. 2003. Reflections: Life After the White House. New York: A Lisa Drew Book/ Scribner. Bush, G. H. W. 1987. Looking Forward: An Autobiography. New York: Doubleday. Bush, G. H. W. 2013. All the Best, George Bush: My Life in Letters and Other Writings. New York: Scribner. Bush, G. W. 2010. Decision Points. New York: Crown Publishers. Bush, G. W. 2014. 41: A Portrait of My Father. New York: Crown Publishers. Bush, L. 2010. Spoken From the Heart. New York: Scribner. Butterfield, F. 1990. “At Wellesley, a Furor over Barbara Bush.” The New York Times, May 4. http://www.nytimes.com/1990/05/04/ us/at‐wellesley‐a‐furor‐over‐barbara‐bush. html (accessed December 30, 2015). Campbell, K. K. 1996. “The Rhetorical Presidency: A Two‐Person Career.” In Beyond the Rhetorical Presidency, edited by M. J. Medhurst, 179–195. College Station: Texas A&M University Press. Caroli, B. B. 2010. First Ladies: From Martha Washington to Michelle Obama, rev. edn. New York: Oxford University Press. Dinnerstein, M., and R. Weitz. 1994. “Jane Fonda, Barbara Bush and Other Aging Bodies: Femininity and the Limits of Resistance.” Feminist Issues 14: 3–24. Eickhoff, D. 2006. Revolutionary Heart: The Life of Clarina Nichols and the Pioneering Crusadefor Women’s Rights. Kansas City, KS: Quindero Press.

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Friedan, B. 2001. The Feminine Mystique. New York: W. W. Norton. Gould, L. L. 2001. America’s First Ladies: Their Lives and Their Legacy, 2nd edn. New York: Routledge. Grimes, A. 1990. Running Mates: The Making of a First Lady. New York: William Morrow. Gullan, H. I. 2001. Faith of Our Mothers: The Stories of Presidential Mothers from Mary Washington to Barbara Bush. Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans. Gutin, M. G. 2008. Barbara Bush: Presidential Matriarch. Lawrence: University Press of Kansas. Hertz, R., and S. M. Reverby. 1995. “Gentility, Gender, and Political Protest: The Barbara Bush Controversy at Wellesley College.” Gender and Society 9: 594–611. Kilian, P. 2002. Barbara Bush: Matriarch of a Dynasty. New York: Thomas Dunne Books. Koch, D. B. 2014. My Father, My President: A Personal Account of the Life of George H. W. Bush, New York: Grant Center Publishing. Marton, K. 2002. Hidden Power: Presidential Marriages That Shaped Our History. New York: Anchor Books. Radcliffe, D. 1989. Simply Barbara Bush: A Portrait of America’s Candid First Lady. New York: Warner Books. Roberts II, J. B. 2003. Rating the First Ladies: The Women Who Influenced the Presidency. New York: Citadel Press Books. Snyder, T. D., ed. 1993. 120 Years of American Education: A Statistical Portrait. Washington, DC: National Center for Education Statistics. Troy, G. 2000. Mr. and Mrs. President: From the Trumans to the Clintons, 2nd ed. Lawrence: University Press of Kansas. Truman, M. 1995. First Ladies: An Intimate Group Portrait of White House Wives. New York: Random House. Vigil, T. R. 2014. “Feminine Views in the Feminine Style: Convention Speeches by Presidential Nominees’ Spouses.” Southern Communication Journal 79: 327–346. Walsh, K. T., and J. M. Schrof. 1990. “The Hidden Life of Barbara Bush.” US News & World Report, May 28: 24. Watson, R. P. 2000. The Presidents’ Wives: Reassessing the Office of First Lady. Boulder, CO: Lynne Rienner.

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Wellesley College. 1992. “Commencement Address to the Wellesley College Class of 1992 by Hillary Rodham Clinton ’69.” http:// www.wellesley.edu/events/commencement/ archives/1992commencement/commencement address (accessed November 12, 2015). Wellesley College. 1969. “Hillary D. Rodham’s 1969 Student Commencement Speech.” http:// www.wellesley.edu/events/commencement/

archives/1969commencement/student speech (accessed November 12, 2015). Wertheimer, M. M. 2004. “Barbara Bush: Her Rhetorical Development and Appeal.” In Inventing a Voice: The Rhetoric of American First Ladies of the Twentieth Century, edited by M. M. Wertheimer, 387 – 416. Lanham, MD: Rowman & Littlefield.

Chapter Thirty Six

Barbara Pierce Bush: Choosing a Complete Life, II: 1988–2015 Diana B. Carlin

The 1988 Campaign The odds were not necessarily in George H. W. Bush’s favor when he sought to follow Ronald Reagan into the White House. A  sitting vice president had not been elected president since Martin Van Buren in 1832. While Bush had Ronald Reagan’s support, he also had seven primary challengers and came in third, behind Kansas Senator Bob Dole and televangelist Pat Robertson in the  Iowa caucuses, which he had won eight years before. As the primary season advanced, however, the well‐funded Bush machine overtook the field and the nomination was his. Nevertheless, after the last balloons and confetti were cleaned up from the floor of the Democratic Convention hall in Atlanta in July, George Bush was 17 points behind Michael Dukakis in a Gallup poll—11 points more than before the convention. He also had a problem with women voters—the gender gap started with the 1980 election, and by 1988 Dukakis held a two‐to‐one lead over Bush among female voters (Grimes, 1990: 124). Bush’s surprise choice of Dan Quayle, a young and untested senator from Indiana, contrasted

with the seasoned and highly respected Dukakis running mate, Lloyd Bentsen of Texas. Finally, there was the idea of “party fatigue” or Americans’ desire to try something new after the republican control of the White House for sixteen out of the twenty years that passed since Richard Nixon’s arrival in 1969. For the Bushes, there was another challenge—how to adjust to the personal becoming political. The Bush children were involved in all of their father’s campaigns, but the Bushes had not put them front and center during the vice presidential years. Although the Dukakis family was much smaller than the Bush clan, family members were on stage  throughout the convention; cousin Olympia, the actress, made an appearance, and father‐in‐law and Boston Pops associate, conductor Harry Ellis Dickson, directed a John Williams composition, “Fanfare for Michael Dukakis.” Michael and Kitty Dukakis were unabashedly comfortable with public displays of affection. After the convention and the gap in the polls, George Bush “met with the editorial board of USA Today and confessed that he had to start ‘stressing the personal’” (Grimes, 1990: 124). Thus, at

A Companion to First Ladies, First Edition. Edited by Katherine A. S. Sibley. © 2016 John Wiley & Sons, Inc. Published 2016 by John Wiley & Sons, Inc.

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the August convention in New Orleans, the  Bush family came out in force and “nominated him from five separate states. [Jeb and] Columba’s son led the Pledge of Allegiance” (1990: 125). Barbara was introduced through a video that described her work with literacy and volunteerism, and her  speech included references to Robin’s death and George’s support during that difficult time. The Bush family humanized George Bush, and his speech about “a kinder, ­gentler America” placed family values squarely at the center of his campaign. The 1988 campaign was hard fought, the debates mattered, and negative advertising was common. Barbara “visited ninety‐two cities in twenty‐nine states, gave 184 interviews, and was a popular presence at seventy‐ seven events and fund‐raisers” (Gutin, 2008: 29). Through it all she steadfastly resisted attempts to be cornered into taking public positions on issues, especially on abortion, or into admitting that she influenced the candidate’s thinking. Her influence, however, was undeniable even if not overt. According to Myra Gutin, her main role “was watching her husband’s back[, which] included monitoring the work of campaign workers and campaign advertising” (Gutin, 2008: 29). First ladies scholar John Roberts (2003: 330) also attributes to Barbara Bush and her son George W. much of the responsibility for the release of a racially charged ad that accused Dukakis of being soft on crime. The ad highlighted the Massachusetts governor’s support of a weekend furlough program that released an African American man, Willie Horton, who then brutally attacked a white couple. The controversial ad—along with Dukakis’s comic appearance in a tank, which was designed to counter his lack of military and foreign policy experience, and a misstep he made in the second presidential debate—all contributed to a shift in the polls and the Bush–Quayle victory. The campaign, however, was not without angst for the Bushes when accusations of an  extramarital affair between George and

long‐time aide Jennifer Fitzgerald surfaced. “When Barbara Bush heard the story, she told campaign staffers that it was ridiculous and to disregard it” (Gutin, 2008: 31). But her son George agreed to a Newsweek interview where he decided to put the issue to rest by saying: “The answer to the Big A question is N‐O.” Barbara was furious: “How dare you disgrace your father by bringing this up?” (Bush, 2014: 161). The story eventually died, only to resurface four years later. Barbara’s reaction to her son’s public denial was well rooted in her character. Long before Sarah Palin hit the political scene, Barbara Bush was a “Mama Grizzly” protecting and defending her husband and children from criticism and news that would damage their reputations or futures. In A Memoir, Barbara recalled that during the 1964 US Senate primary campaign her “blood boiled at half the things they said about George” (Bush, 1994: 58). Barbara’s reaction to criticism of her husband was further underscored in a memoir by a Bush speechwriter, Craig R. Smith. He recounted a conversation with Bush advisor Karl Rove: “Karl told me that he was afraid of her and that I should always be positive in my criticism of George Bush. ‘She’s very protective, Craig. I’ve learned the hard way’” (Smith, 2014: 134). George W. recounted a story about Lee Atwater, his father’s 1988 campaign manager, who gave part of an Esquire magazine article interview “while using the restroom.” George W. took Atwater to task for failing to make the candidate look good by being more concerned with his own press coverage. He ended by saying to Atwater: “By the way, if you think I’m mad, you ought to hear what Mother says” (G. W. Bush, 2010: 41). Atwater apologized in the tone that most of us would use if we offended our grandmothers. Such was the power of Barbara Bush, whose aura followed her into the White House as she embarked upon the new responsibilities that forty‐four years of partnership with George Bush had well ­prepared her to undertake.



barbara pierce bush: choosing a complete life,

The White House Years During the unsuccessful Bush 1980 primary campaign, Jane Pauley interviewed Mrs. Bush on the Today show and asked a question that foreshadowed the Wellesley speech controversy (discussed further below): “Mrs. Bush, people say your husband is a man of the eighties and you are a woman of the forties. What do you say to that?” Her response was both witty and warm: “Oh, you mean people think I look forty? Neat! … If you mean that I love my God, my country, and my husband, so be it. Why, then I am a woman of the forties” (Bush, 1994: 148). Nine years later, while firmly ensconced in the White House, Barbara Bush was still self‐effacing, proud of who she was, and a representation of the values of the World War II generation. All of these traits resonated with the American public. Two weeks before the election, according to first lady scholar Carl Sferazza Anthony (1991: 413), Bush told his aides that, if he won, “America will fall in love with Barbara Bush,” and polls and media coverage during the Bush presidency prove that he was right. In the first one hundred days of the Bush– Quayle administration, her numbers were higher than the president’s—“not for anything she’d done, for she hadn’t yet begun her work, but for who she was and what she seemed to symbolize” (Anthony, 1991: 422). Two days after the inauguration, political columnist David Broder (1989) wrote about the “gush” over Barbara Bush and added his own to explain what she symbolized: She is direct, honest, clear about her loyalties (most importantly to her husband) and her values. … It may seem exaggerated to suggest that Barbara Bush will be the conscience of this White House, but my guess is that she will be more: an example to the country.

At the end of her first year, as Gutin notes, “she was ranked number three in the Gallup Poll’s annual Most Admired Women

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poll. At the end of 1990, she was ranked number two; in 1991 and 1992, she was ranked number one” (Gutin, 2001: 421). By the time the 1992 race was in full swing, her husband’s numbers were sinking but “she remained at a stratospheric eighty percent approval rating” (Truman, 1995: 319). She left the White House in 1993 ranked eighth on the Siena College Research Institute/C‐SPAN Study of the first ladies of the United States (2014). Ten years later she held the fifteenth spot, and in 2014 she ranked eleventh—one rank behind Rosalyn Carter and one ahead of her daughter‐in‐ law Laura. Barbara Bush’s success as a first lady was the result of many factors: a carefully managed image, a lack of pretense, an ability to connect with a wide variety of people, causes that resonated with the majority of Americans, a quick wit, and acceptance of her middle‐aged appearance. While the patrician Bushes were not “every family,” the ubiquitous presence of children and grandchildren at the White House and Kennebunkport projected images familiar to  many. Karlyn Kohrs Campbell (1996) framed the role of the first lady within an  “idealized” presidency, in which “its occupants and their families become models or culture types. They are Mr. and Mrs. America, an ideal First Family expected to represent cherished US values” (Campbell, 1996: 188). After the Reagans, with their history of estrangements from their children, the Bushes represented more of that ideal. As she had done throughout her husband’s campaigns, Barbara tried to leave the politics to George—at least publicly—and claimed that she had “muzzled” herself first in 1967, when her husband entered Congress. She explained: “It’s a decision I made … that when I disagreed with George Bush, I tell him in private. Occasionally I’ve had slippage, but very rarely” (quoted in Radcliffe, 1989: 189). During her first year in office, she made it clear to the media that

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they would have to work hard to take the muzzle off. When asked whether Roe v. Wade (1973) should be overturned, she responded: “I’m not going to talk about it. I’m not—because, see, if I start talking about one issue, then I have to move into another and another and another” (quoted in Radcliffe, 1989: 187). In spite of such resolve, she did have a “slippage” that made her even more cautious about what she said. After a schoolyard shooting with an AK‐47 that took the lives of five children, she “emphatically agreed” when asked whether assault weapons should be prohibited. When her comments suggested the possibility that she and her husband differed on this issue, press secretary Marlin Fitzwater told the press corps that there was “no dispute.” … Later a spokeswoman for the First Lady delivered the word: “Barbara Bush would henceforth have no comment on controversial political issues.” (Campbell, 1996: 191)

Her husband turned around on the issue by May 1989, but she took no credit: one great thing about George is … that he’s open‐minded. … And I think the shooting of those children just was devastating to him. … I think he waited and weighed all the facts. And the facts are pretty strong. But I had nothing to do with it. (Radcliffe, 1989: 189)

Myra Gutin (2001: 420) argued that she also influenced enhanced funding for Head Start in 1990 and “may also have been an advocate for the Hate Crimes Statistics Act” the same year. Gutin credits her with inviting gay men and lesbians for the Act’s signing. One other place where she most likely had a major influence was on the appointment of Dr. Louis Sullivan as secretary of health and human services. She knew him from her work at the Morehouse School of Medicine, where he had invited her to serve on the school’s board (Bush, 1994: 178).

“She admitted she offered advice and was ‘for’ Sullivan, but she knew her place,” writes Troy. “‘Show me a wife who doesn’t offer advice,’ she said, ‘and I’ll show you one who doesn’t care very much’” (Troy, 2000: 328). While it is impossible to prove her influence beyond statements such as these and beyond unattributed comments such as her husband saying “I’ll take that one up with Bar and see what she thinks” (2000: 328), the record is very clear about  her public traditional activities: “Approximately 30 to 40 percent of Barbara Bush’s White House tenure was devoted to ceremonial activities. … During an average week, Mrs. Bush traveled two or three times to advance literacy and education” (Gutin, 2001: 419). She hosted visiting dignitaries, traveled internationally with her husband, and maintained an overall pace for events and speeches similar to that of the vice‐ presidential years. She also received about one hundred thousand letters annually, sending on about twelve thousand for further assistance in the government (Gutin, 2008: 60). She was tireless in performing her unpaid duties, and didn’t let Graves disease slow her down, even as she was diagnosed and began treatment for this condition in 1989. When her husband “passed out, his eyes rolling back in his head while getting sick” (Bush, 1994: 250) at a dinner hosted by the Japanese prime minister in Tokyo, she saved the day. The president was taken from the banquet room, and Barbara was left to give an impromptu toast that illustrated her quick wit, as she joked that the sudden attack was attributable to poor sportsmanship after his loss in a doubles match on the tennis court to the emperor and crown prince earlier that day (Bush, 1994: 451). Throughout the presidency the Bushes hosted presidents, prime ministers, celebrities, and their large family at the house on  Walker’s Point and at Camp David. The  Maine White House was command central for a time during the Persian Gulf



barbara pierce bush: choosing a complete life,

War. Both there and in Kuwait, where she accompanied George for Thanksgiving with the troops, Barbara provided the type of support that he, his advisors, and American servicemen and women needed to address the conflict. While she muzzled herself on matters of domestic politics, she was not averse to speaking out about opponents of the United States. She referred to Saddam Hussein as “a dreadful man” (Gutin, 2008: 104). She supported her husband’s invasion of Panama to oust Manuel Noriega. Of this  captured dictator she said: “He cost thousands of lives … He’s a bad man. Also, I’m glad he is here and will stand trial” (Kilian, 2002: 140). The four years Barbara Bush served as first lady were marked by her continued work on literacy, her extensive volunteerism, her public speeches, and her campaigning for republican candidates and for her husband’s reelection. A closer look at some of her key activities underscores the source of her popularity. Continuing the Literacy Campaign Two months after entering the White House, she established the Barbara Bush Foundation for Family Literacy through the  Community Foundation of Greater Washington; it is now a stand‐alone foundation that administers grants and scholarships to organizations and individuals working to  eliminate illiteracy. The publication of Millie’s Book in 1990 provided $1 million for the foundation, and a similar amount was raised from private sources (Gutin, 2001: 416; Radcliffe, 1989). Barbara’s memoirs recall hundreds of literacy events throughout the White House years. She also followed Nancy Reagan’s use of popular media by appearing on Oprah Winfrey’s show, and in December 1991 she launched a radio show of her own, Mrs. Bush’s Story Hour, which ran for ten segments and featured Barbara reading to children. Tapes of

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her stories could be purchased separately (Gutin, 2001: 416). She penned an article for Reader’s Digest touting the “secret” of its title—“Parenting’s Best Kept Secret: Reading to Your Children.” For her, “intergenerational activities” were key to successful reading (Radcliffe, 1989: 184). Bush also developed partnerships with groups such as Reading Is Fundamental and Literacy Volunteers of America, and one of these efforts brought her squarely into her husband’s sphere—working behind the scenes for passage of the National Literacy Act of 1991. Democrat Senator Paul Simon from Illinois— himself a presidential candidate in 1988—was a long‐time proponent of literacy initiatives, including this bill; and, as Gutin writes, “[i]n Barbara Bush, Simon found a kindred spirit, and the two forged a  bipartisan literacy effort to discuss what could be done” (Gutin, 2008: 85). They met quietly at the department of education to discuss their shared interest, and, while at first the White House had resisted Simon’s measure, after he contacted Mrs. Bush, the Congressman recalled, “‘the administration position suddenly reversed itself 180 degrees.’ The bill was passed by a vote of 99 to 1” (Gutin, 2008: 85). For a wife who claimed to leave the politics to her husband, Barbara came close to admitting to her influence when she spoke of the Act this way: “I feel very good about the Literacy Act of 1991 … which I don’t take credit for but I worked hard on it” (Kilian, 2002: 11). Volunteerism in the DNA George H. W. Bush’s acceptance speech for the republican nomination for presidency in  1988 called the country’s volunteers and their organizations “a thousand points of light,” part of his vision for a “kinder, gentler America.” Peggy Noonan and Craig R.  Smith may have written the words, but Barbara Bush scripted the narrative defining the phrases. According to biographer Myra

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Gutin (2001: 416), Mrs. Bush “told her staff that literacy was her major and volunteerism was her minor.” Kati Marton (2002: 279) wrote that “service” was one of the traits “implanted in George’s and Barbara’s DNA.” Service for George was public office; for Barbara, it was the more traditional volunteerism that she learned from her mother and that helped get her past the pain of Robin’s death. In a study of corporate wives, Rosabeth Moss Kanter (1993: 120) notes that “[w]ives may meet each other through volunteer work and bring their husbands into contact with useful business results.” Social scientists, moreover, refer to volunteer activities, especially among the upper‐class women, as “‘invisible work’ that links the public and private worlds” (Hertz and Reverby, 1995: 595). When the volunteer is the first lady, the work is no longer “invisible.” From her experience as a corporate wife and volunteer, which long predated her entering the political fray, Mrs. Bush knew that her visits to soup kitchens, homeless shelters, or hospitals treating AIDS patients were putting into action her husband’s “kinder, gentler America.” The AIDS epidemic of the 1980s is an excellent example of how Mrs. Bush connected George Bush with efforts to find successful treatment and reduce public fears. Two months after becoming first lady, she visited Grandma’s House, a residence for infants and young children with AIDS. There, according to the Washington Post, “Mrs. Bush cradled an infant, kissed a toddler and hugged an adult AIDS victim to demonstrate the message: ‘You can hug and pick up AIDS babies and people who have the HIV virus’ without hurting yourself.” Her call for “compassion” had important results, as Jim Graham of the Whitman– Walker clinic noted: “You can’t imagine what one hug from the first lady is worth” (Romano, 1989). Several months later the president, Barbara, George W., and Secretary Louis Sullivan visited AIDS wards at the National

Institutes of Health. They all “shook hands with adult AIDS patients and hugged several children” (Robinson, 1989). The visit was described as “the most dramatic demonstration yet” of White House concern (Robinson, 1989). In the spring of 1990 the president planted a tree in Indianapolis in honor of Ryan White, an AIDS patient who contracted the disease through a blood transfusion and then was not allowed to attend school (Mashek, 1990). The commitment to improving public understanding of the disease continued in December 1991, when Mrs. Bush participated in the dedication of a new treatment facility in Washington. Donnie Radcliffe (1991) wrote in a news story that, in her visible role, Barbara “may have built a bridge for her husband,” whose efforts against AIDS had come under attack. In another example of her influence, while visiting AIDS patients with Princess Diana in London, she met an American who wanted to return to the United States but was barred by US policy. Hearing his story, Barbara was responsive and, owing to her influence with the president and other officials, “the rule was changed a few months later” (Kilian, 2002: 185). Along with the newfound interest in helping AIDS victims, Barbara also took up the cause of homelessness after Susan Baker—the wife of Cabinet member James Baker, George Bush’s advisor and chief of staff—introduced her to the work she was doing with the homeless. Mrs. Bush did not overtly politicize her work, but all of her biographers contend that what she learned through her highly visible volunteerism and through the contacts she made was shared with the president and at least indirectly affected his thinking and agenda. What Kanter (1993: 120) wrote about the corporate wife and how her work helps define her husband could have been modeled after Barbara Bush’s example. The presidential partnership Gil Troy (2000) described in his book takes many forms, and with the Bushes



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it was that of a traditional, upper‐class marriage in which each partner understood his and her separate roles —public or domestic—but each was complementary to the other because the public–private boundaries are thin. Nowhere was that better demonstrated by Barbara Bush than in her 1990 Wellesley College speech. Wellesley, the Clash of Feminism, and First Ladies Barbara Bush’s entry in the top one hundred public addresses of the twentieth century had its genesis in brainstorming sessions for the 1990 commencement season. Files at the George H. W. Bush Presidential Library and Barbara Bush’s memoirs reveal that Wellesley’s was one of dozens of such invitations and that elements of the Wellesley speech were evident in her other commencement addresses, from Pennsylvania to Missouri. Because a summit with President Bush and Russian President Mikhail Gorbachev was later scheduled for the same time, the Wellesley acceptance might have been reversed—except that Barbara had other commitments in Boston related to literacy. She then struck upon the idea that Raisa Gorbachev should accompany her and also give a speech, and Wellesley agreed. Indeed, after first‐choice Alice Walker had turned the school down, President Nannerl O. Keohane (1989: 1) wrote to Barbara that “the Class of 1990 … has enthusiastically chosen you.” But soon 150 members of the  600‐student graduating class signed a petition protesting the administration’s selection of her. The petition contained statements such as “Wellesley teaches us that we will be rewarded on the basis of our  own merit, not on that of a spouse,” and Mrs. Bush “does not successfully exemplify the qualities that Wellesley seeks to instill in us” (Hertz and Reverby, 1995: 596). The protest drew thousands of stories around the world, and the White House was

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bombarded with letters and calls weighing in on the controversy. The reports shed light on a broader culture war that was brewing in the 1990s. The New York Times wrote that the choice of Mrs. Bush “raised questions around the country about the nature of feminism” and that, “where Mrs. Bush had pursued the normal course for women of her era, today there are far more opportunities” (quoted in Butterfield, 1990). Time magazine writers Margaret Carlson and Melissa Ludtke (1990) wrote about the conflicts that opportunities also bring: “Despite two decades of feminist victories, only women seem to feel the emotional schizophrenia that comes with having children. … On commencement day, few college graduates want to be reminded of the dilemma.” Barbara’s reaction was typical of her comfort with her choices, as she also empathized with the students’ feelings: “I don’t think they understood where I’m coming from and that’s all right. I chose to live the life I’ve lived. … In my day, they probably would have been considered different. In  their day, I’m considered different” (Kilian, 2002: 147). By the day of the speech, a second petition had been circulated that “praised the choice of Mrs. Bush … and commended unknown women who had devoted their lives to serving others” (Wertheimer, 2004: 406–407). Reflecting this sentiment, a significant number of the  graduates donned purple arm bands designed to celebrate those women (Kilian, 2002: 150). The speech Barbara and her staff crafted retained themes from the other commencement addresses of that season about life choices and families, but what differed was the way it adapted to the controversy by encompassing generational differences and the unresolved conflicts women face. The speech met Barbara’s goal not to “complain, explain, or apologize in any way” (Bush, 1994: 337). Mrs. Bush expressed an excitement, shared with the audience, about the fact that

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Mrs. Gorbachev was with them. She noted, too, that this was her second speech at Wellesley, after an earlier one with her husband in the 1970s, which was intended to “talk about our experiences in the People’s Republic of China” (Bush, 1990a). She then went on to comment on what impressed her about that first visit: “Wellesley, you see is not just a place but an idea—an experiment in excellence in which diversity is not just tolerated, but is embraced.” She added, with humor: “Now I know your first choice today was Alice Walker—guess how I know!—known for The Color Purple. Instead you got me—known for the color of my hair.” A key reference point in her speech was a story from Robert Fulghum about a game called Giants, Wizards and Dwarfs. One little girl rejected those characters and wanted to be a mermaid. When told that there were none in the game, she insisted there were and she was one. This led Mrs. Bush to explain her own position and where she stood among an audience whose members labeled themselves differently from her: “Now this little girl knew what she was, and she was not about to give up on either her identity, or the game. She intended to take her place wherever mermaids fit into the scheme of things.” Making her point without “complaining, explaining or apologizing,” the body of the speech elaborated upon three themes: “believe in something larger than yourself[,] … life really must have joy[,] … and cherish your human connections.” To illustrate her first theme, she chose her cause of literacy. For the second, she told the audience that she made “the most important decision of my life, to marry George Bush, because he made me laugh.” The third theme was designed to demonstrate her cognizance of and empathy for those who had protested her visit: The third choice that must not be missed is to cherish your human connections: your relationships with family and friends.

For several years, you’ve had impressed upon you the importance to your career of dedication and hard work. And, of course, that’s true. But as important as your obligations as a doctor, a lawyer, a business leader will be, you are a human being first. And those human connections—with spouses, with children, with friends—are the most important investments you will ever make. … At the end of your life, you will never regret not having passed one more test, winning one more verdict, or  not closing one more deal. You will regret time not spent with a husband, a child, a friend, or a parent. (Bush, 1990a)

She referred to some old Wellesley traditions, like the hoop rolling race in which the winner would be the first one to marry. The race changed to make a different prediction—the first to become a CEO and later, the first to achieve success, no matter how defined. Barbara then issued a challenge to the class: “So I want to offer a new legend: the winner of the hoop race will be the first  to realize her dream—not society’s dreams—her own personal dream.” And, in a demonstration of her excellent comedic timing, she noted: “Who knows? Somewhere out in this audience may even be someone who will one day follow in my footsteps, and preside over the White House as the President’s spouse—and I wish him well.” She concluded the speech by saying that “the controversy ends here. But our conversation is only beginning. And a worthwhile conversation it has been.” Others across the country agreed with her, and the White House phone lines and mailroom were busy with reactions—nearly all of them positive— from a range of Americans. The media covered the speech extensively, and the result was that the popular first lady “had new admirers and respect, demonstrating skills and know‐how that many Americans had not realized she possessed” (Kilian, 2002: 153). One of the qualities that endeared her to the country was her humility.



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Two days after the speech she wrote to her staff: “The Wellesley success was very important to us all—and I also know that it could not have happened without everyone on my team working hard. Thanks for that” (Bush, 1990b). The 1992 Campaign and Convention Speech: All in the Family The last half of the Bush administration was a time of both exhilaration and frustration for those in the White House. The Soviet Union, for long the nemesis of the United States, ceased to exist, following the fall of the Berlin Wall in 1989. Also, the president’s positive ratings rose to 88 percent after the Persian Gulf War in 1991. A year later, however, during the reelection campaign, they fell to to 31 percent, largely because of a recession (Frankovic, 2009). Tax increases despite a pledge of “no new taxes” in the 1988 acceptance speech alienated Bush from the more conservative elements in the party. Pat Buchanan, a former Nixon, Ford, and Reagan advisor, took on the president in the primaries and further damaged his standing. To complicate the situation even more, Texas billionaire Ross Perot waged an independent campaign in order to focus the dialogue on the federal budget deficit. Meanwhile Bill Clinton wrapped up the democratic nomination in spite of revelations about his infidelity, his avoidance of the draft in the Vietnam War, and his smoking of marijuana while a student. As noted earlier, Barbara’s ratings remained consistently high throughout 1992. This meant that she was an important campaign asset and needed to approach her speeches differently from four years earlier, when her main goal was to introduce George Bush and to avoid partisanship. Records in the George H. W. Bush Presidential Library reveal the level of Mrs.  Bush’s involvement and her shift to

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more policy‐oriented speeches, where she emphasized her husband’s success and his opponents’ shortcomings rather than just touting his character. She was prepared to produce a positive spin for her husband and hit harder than in 1988: “The New York Times commented that Mrs. Bush’s postconvention swing through California produced ‘some of the most partisan remarks of her political life” (Gutin, 2008: 138). While the Wellesley speech was two years behind her, issues related to family values had only intensified. Vice President Dan Quayle added to the debate when he criticized the fictional television character of Murphy Brown for choosing to be a single parent, and his comments took on a life of their own, as a metaphor for the nation’s conflicting views on family values. Bill Clinton’s character issues further fueled the debate. Not surprisingly, the Jennifer Fitzgerald rumors circulated again, and their presence counteracted some of the effectiveness of the Bush team’s character attacks on Clinton. Barbara was again hurt by the allegations but used her wit to deflect them by noting that “George Bush sleeps with two girls. Millie and me” (quoted in Kilian, 2002: 138). When, on the opening night of the convention, Pat Buchanan gave a speech that was considered to go over the top in its attack on the Clintons and on running mate Al Gore as liberals who would destroy the country’s fiber, it was important to have someone showcasing the “kinder, gentler America” of the 1988 campaign. And who better than Barbara Bush? The third night of the convention was Family Night, and Barbara would be the marquee speaker. While she had given a brief speech in 1988, the importance of the 1992 oration was considerably greater. Barbara drew on her carefully crafted persona to make her presentation more intimate. She noted, for instance, that she was “not here to give a speech, but to have a conversation” (Bush, 1992). This approach is

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echoed in other wives’ speeches over the years (Vigil, 2014: 333). In order to win back women and bridge the gap with families that did not resemble the Bushes, she acknowledged what Dan Quayle and other Republicans hadn’t—that families come in many shapes and sizes: “When we speak of families we include extended families … we mean the neighbors … even the community itself” (Bush, 1992). However, she went further, to move the Bushes closer to the center of the American voting public: We have so many different families. And yet, they aren’t really so very different. As in our family, as in American families everywhere, the parents we’ve met are determined to teach their children integrity, strength, responsibility, courage, sharing, love of God and pride in being an American. However you define family, that’s what we mean by family values. (Bush, 1992)

The speech ended with Barbara welcoming the 22 members of the Bush clan to the stage with her. Molly Wertheimer (2004: 409) concluded that “Mrs. Bush seemed to be saying … ‘the rest of you may talk about family values, but George Bush and I live them!’” The press response was largely positive, even from liberal women journalists such as fellow Texan Molly Ivins (Wertheimer, 2004: 409). Biographers Kilian (2002) and Gutin (2001) also complimented the speech. Throughout the fall, Barbara and the Bush family campaigned tirelessly for George’s reelection, but the three‐way contest and Bush’s lackluster performance in the firstever townhall debate were too much to overcome. Three successive terms of Republicans in the White House came to an end on election night, and the World War II generation made way for the first of the baby‐boomer presidents. The man who sent George Bush back to Texas would eventually work with him on several crises, including the disastrous effects of Hurricane Katrina.

As other presidents and first ladies before them discovered, their fraternity and sorority is small and their joint spirit of service is large enough to transcend the pain of disappointing losses, especially as new ways of making contributions emerge. Such was the case for Barbara. There Is Life after the White House As this book goes to press, it has been twenty‐three years since Barbara Bush left the White House; throughout that time, she has remained in the news—and not just because one of her sons served as president and another is running. It is because she kept doing what she had done for decades— committing her time and life to service. Her post‐White House memoir Reflections: Life after the White House began with a prologue that expressed the pride and joy she felt as a mother watching her son sworn in as president. And, although she first recalls that “January 20, 1993, was a tough day for us” (Bush, 2003: 5), within a few pages it becomes obvious that Barbara Bush has moved on to appreciate the life she now has. For instance, she and George boarded a “love boat” for a cruise that she could never have taken during his presidency (2003: 9). The book’s nearly four hundred pages chronicle their wide travels and connections with world leaders; her completion of two volumes of memoirs and her delivery of numerous speeches; family milestones such as her wedding anniversaries, major birthdays, and gatherings with family and friends; service on boards; her sons’ campaigns; and the Barbara Bush Foundation for Family Literacy. At the conclusion of her reflections on the first year out of the White House, she comments: “I sometimes find retirement so exhausting that I think I’ll get a job” (Bush, 2003: 65). Twelve years after the memoir’s publication in 2003, Barbara Bush is still going strong



barbara pierce bush: choosing a complete life,

at the age of ninety. A new preoccupation for the Silver Fox, as her children call her, is her second son Jeb’s bid for the White House. In typical Barbara Bush fashion, she  declared in a January 2013 C‐SPAN interview that “‘we’ve had enough Bushes,’ saying that she hopes Jeb doesn’t run, even though she thinks he is the most qualified” (Miller, 2013). By October 2014 she was wavering and “shifted to ‘neutral’ from steadfastly against” (Jager, 2014). Then a February 15, 2015 headline on CBS News online declared: “Barbara Bush: ‘I Changed My Mind’ on Too Many Bushes.” In between engaging in the family business of politics and fundraising for the foundation, she periodically gives an interview—and sometimes with startling announcements such as “I love Bill Clinton. Maybe not his politics, but I love Bill Clinton” (Dockterman, 2014: 1). In 2012, on the Today show, she discussed with her  granddaughter Jenna Bush Hager the heartbreak of losing her daughter Robin. Throughout her “retirement” years, Barbara Bush has remained outspoken, involved, and committed to her family. For all that she has done and experienced, she continues to be true to herself and remains satisfied with her choices—even if they involve 180‐ degree turns. The Legacy The first lady’s role in the US presidency defies description, in the sense that each first lady brings something to the position. First lady scholar Lewis L. Gould (2001: xi) reminded us that “[t]he role of the president’s wife has responded to changes in the nation’s highest office itself and the social demands on women.” John B. Roberts II (2003), who analyzed the reasons behind the ratings of first ladies, added more texture to Gould’s point: “The job of first lady has no formal definition in the constitution. It has evolved informally, with the powers

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of each new first lady building upon the last, or suffering setbacks because of a previous first lady’s political blunders” (Roberts, 2003: xi). Early first ladies (whose very title remained fluid until the 1850s) helped create a position that was publicly ceremonial, with an emphasis on hostessing and diplomacy functions, while often wielding private influence. In the first half of the twentieth century, those in the post such as Edith Roosevelt, Florence Harding, and Eleanor Roosevelt became busy enough to hire professional staff; and, building on the pioneering efforts of Helen Taft and Ellen Wilson, many of them extended their visibility through promotion of and activism for worthy causes, thus making the role far more public and political. More recent first ladies like Betty Ford and Rosalynn Carter have taken their causes further into the political arena, setting the standard for Barbara Bush’s literacy efforts and for work on other causes. Few innovations have occurred in the past twenty years. Even Hillary Clinton, who talked about getting “two for the price of one,” reverted to more traditional activities after criticism of her early activist role on health care policy. Professional, Princeton‐ and Harvard‐educated Michelle Obama said that her first job was that of “mom in chief,” although of course she has pursued many other causes, from fighting obesity to assisting veterans. Jodi Kantor (2012), her biographer, characterized the position as “stagnant,” largely because the first lady “does not hold a paid job outside the White House. … this puts her, by definition, several generations behind other women.” Within that context, Barbara Bush’s biographer Myra Gutin (2001: 421) summarized the Bush legacy this way: “Barbara Bush made no enduring changes in the institution of first lady. She broke no new ground, fostered no innovations.” However, to measure a first lady’s legacy by the mark she left on the position itself does not fully reflect the impact she has. And that is especially true of Barbara Bush, a member of the

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generation of women that “was supposed to  fulfill its destiny within the context of marriage” (Marton, 2002: 278). Serving as first lady when women’s destinies could be fulfilled in many ways but when the reality that “you can’t have it all” was becoming obvious, she provided a philosophy in her Wellesley speech that is relevant twenty‐five years later. The conversation Barbara Bush started at Wellesley is echoed in Anne‐Marie Slaughter’s (2012) “Why Women Still Can’t Have It All.” Slaughter, a Princeton professor who did a stint in the state department under Hillary Clinton, left her government position because of the difficulty of long‐ distance parenting. She wrote: having it all was not possible in many types of jobs. … Yet the decision to step down from a position of power—to value family over professional advancement, even for a time—is directly at odds with the prevailing social pressures on career professionals in the United States. (Slaughter, 2012: 87)

Barbara Bush showed how to live with such conflicting choices and have a complete life even with loss, heartache, and family ­challenges. The Wellesley controversy was created by a group of women at a privileged college, but Barbara Bush’s work is not confined to the elite. Her greatest legacy is her work with literacy, which impacts countless underprivileged individuals. And, despite its being originally aimed at paper books, her foundation has now fully embraced the digital age and the possibilities of mobile applications. On the occasion of her ninetieth birthday, Mrs. Bush announced a $7 million XPRIZE that will “find the best minds around the globe to come up with innovative and technologically driven solutions” to promote adult literacy (Duffy, 2015). Finally, Barbara Bush demonstrated to the country and to future first ladies how to make the partnership work. The presidency,

since the Washingtons, has been a two‐­ person job and, as Bush White House staffer Susan Porter Rose has observed, “the official and political duties of the modern presidency are so demanding that it requires a couple to handle them” (Roberts, 2003: xvi). Of the Bush partnership, Margaret Truman wrote: “Together, she and her husband became one of the smoothest functioning teams in the history of the White House” (Truman, 1995: 315). Their success was due to Barbara’s understanding that the first lady is a partner but not a co‐president, who can influence in a multitude of ways. She was herself, and that self flowed not only from her unique personality but from her age, her gray hair, her wrinkles, and her size 14 figure … the role not only came naturally, it was shrewd, it was apt, it demonstrated once more the amazing range of choices available to first ladies if they have the courage of their convictions. (Truman, 1995: 314)

Mrs. Bush took what she had—personality, life  experiences, political savvy, a genuine concern for helping others, and a marriage partnership founded on generational values— and worked with them rather than trying to  emulate any of her predecessors; she knew what she was and stood her ground. She helped define her husband and showcase his accomplishments without claiming any influence or credit for herself—even when she deserved it. Lewis Gould (2001: xii) said of Barbara Bush: “Few First Ladies can match [her] sustained popularity. … Mrs. Bush will probably be regarded as a successful First Lady because she fulfilled the several roles of the position so smoothly.” That she did, from hosting dinners to promoting causes to building a legacy. Her place in the history of first ladies is firmly planted, even if she does not claim the distinction of surpassing Abigail Adams by being the only one to have a husband and two sons inaugurated as president.



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References Anthony, C. S. 1991. First Ladies: The Saga of the President’s Wives and Their Power, 1961–1990. New York: William Morrow. Broder, D. S. 1989. “The Special Strengths of Barbara Bush.” Washington Post, January 22. www.washingtonpost.com/archive/opinions​ /1989/01/22/the-special-strengths-of-​ barbara-bush/8fe54cd0-b8f2-4c22-bdf6-​ feca30379db9/ (accessed February 8, 2016). Bush, B. 1990a. “Choices and Change: Your Success as a Family.” Vital Speeches of the Day 56 (18), July 1: 549. Bush, B. 1990b. Letter to East Wing, June 3, 1990. In Speechwriting (OA/ID 13533–002) and Wellesley College Commencement Address (OA/ID 05374). George Bush Presidential Library, College Station, Texas. Bush, B. 1994. A Memoir. New York: Scribner. Bush, B. 2003. Reflections: Life After the White House. New York: A Lisa Drew Book/Scribner. Bush, B. 1992. “Family Values: The Country’s Future is in your Hands.” Vital Speeches of the Day 58 (23), September 15: 718. Bush, G. W. 2010. Decision Points. New York: Crown Publishers. Bush, G. W. 2014. 41: A Portrait of My Father. New York: Crown Publishers. Butterfield, F. 1990. “At Wellesley, a Furor over Barbara Bush.” The New York Times, May 4. http://www.nytimes.com/1990/05/04/ us/at‐wellesley‐a‐furor‐over‐barbara‐bush. html (accessed December 31, 2015). Campbell, K. K. 1996. “The Rhetorical Presidency: A Two‐Person Career.” In Beyond the Rhetorical Presidency, edited by M. J. Medhurst, 179–195. College Station: Texas A&M University Press. Carlson, M., and M. Ludtke. 1990. “What’s Love Got to Do with It? Wellesley’s Unease over Wife and Mother Barbara Bush Renews the Debate about Women’s Divided Loyalties.” Time Magazine, May 7: 35. Dockterman, E. 2014. “‘I Love Bill Clinton,’ Says Barbara Bush.” Time.com, January 22. http://swampland.time.com/2014/01/21/ i‐love‐bill‐clinton‐says‐barbara‐bush (accessed January 31, 2015). Duffy, M. 2015. “Ten Questions with Barbara Bush.” Time, June 9: 60. http://time. com/3908649/10‐questions‐with‐barbara‐ bush (accessed June 7, 2015).

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Frankovic, K. 2009. “Bush’s Popularity Reaches Historic Lows.” CBS, January 15. http:// www.cbsnews.com/news/bushs-popularityreaches-historic-lows/ (accessed February 8, 2016). Gould, L. L. 2001. America’s First Ladies: Their Lives and Their Legacy, 2nd edn. New York: Routledge. Grimes, A. 1990. Running Mates: The Making of a First Lady. New York: William Morrow. Gutin, M. 2001. “Barbara Pierce Bush.” In America’s First Ladies: Their Lives and Their Legacy, 2nd edn., edited by L. L. Gould, 409– 423. New York: Routledge. Gutin, M. G. 2008. Barbara Bush: Presidential Matriarch. Lawrence: University Press of Kansas. Hertz, R., and S. M. Reverby. 1995. “Gentility, Gender, and Political Protest: The Barbara Bush Controversy at Wellesley College.” Gender and Society 9: 594–611. Jager, E. 2014. “Barbara Bush No Longer Opposes Jeb Presidential Run.” Newsmax, October 6. http://www.newsmax.com/Newsfront/JebBush-2016-election-presidency-GOP/2014/ 10/06/id/598759/ (accessed February 8, 2016). Kanter, R. M. 1993. Men and Women of the Corporation, rev. edn. New York: Basic Books. Kantor, J. 2012. Why Is America’s First Lady Stuck in Time?” MORE Magazine, October. http://www.more.com/why‐americas‐first‐ lady‐stuck‐time‐michelle‐obama‐ann‐romney (accessed January 29, 2014). Keohane, N. O. 1989. Letter to Barbara Bush, December 22. In First Lady’s Press Office/ Background: Speeches (OA/ID 07478). George Bush Presidential Library, College Station, Texas. Kilian, P. 2002. Barbara Bush: Matriarch of a Dynasty. New York: Thomas Dunne Books. Marton, K. 2002. Hidden Power: Presidential Marriages That Shaped Our History. New York: Anchor Books. Mashek, J. W. 1990. “Bush Plants a Tree for Student with AIDS.” The Boston Globe, April 4. Miller, Z. J. 2013. “Barbara Bush on Jeb: ‘I Hope He Won’t Run for President.’” Time. com, January 21. http://swampland.time. com/2014/01/16/barbara‐bush‐on‐jeb‐i‐ hope‐he‐wont‐run‐for‐president (accessed January 31, 2015).

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Radcliffe, D. 1989. Simply Barbara Bush: A Portrait of America’s Candid First Lady. New York: Warner Books. Radcliffe, D. 1991. “Mrs. Bush, Reaching Out; Support for Victims at AIDS Facility Dedi­ cation.” The Washington Post, December 20. Roberts II, J. B. 2003. Rating the First Ladies: The Women Who Influenced the Presidency. New York: Citadel Press Books. Robinson, J. 1989. “Bush Has Hugs, Sweets, Words of Concern for AIDS Patients.” The Boston Globe, December 23. Roe v. Wade, 410 US 113 (1973). Romano, L. 1989. “The Hug That Says It All.” Washington Post, March 23. Siena College Research Institute/C‐SPAN Study of the First Ladies of the United States. 2014. http://webdev.siena.edu/assets/files/news/ Appendix_A_Overall_Sur vey_Results.pdf (accessed January 31, 2015). Slaughter, A.‐M. 2012. “Why Women Still Can’t Have It All.” The Atlantic 310, July–August: 84–102.

Smith, C. R. 2014. Confessions of a Presidential Speechwriter. East Lansing: Michigan State University Press. Troy, G. 2000. Mr. and Mrs. President: From the Trumans to the Clintons, 2nd ed. Lawrence: University Press of Kansas. Truman, M. 1995. First Ladies: An Intimate Group Portrait of White House Wives. New York: Random House. Vigil, T. R. 2014. “Feminine Views in the Feminine Style: Convention Speeches by Presidential Nominees’ Spouses.” Southern Communication Journal 79: 327–346. Wertheimer, M. M. 2004. “Barbara Bush: Her  Rhetorical Development and Appeal.” In Inventing a Voice: The Rhetoric of American First Ladies of the Twentieth Century, edited by M. M. Wertheimer, 387–416. Lanham, MD: Rowman & Littlefield.

Chapter Thirty seven

Hillary Rodham Clinton Janette Kenner Muir

Hillary Rodham Clinton is considered by historians to have been one of the most successful and controversial women who served as first lady of the United States. Born in a time when the fight for equal rights was escalating and women grappled with making personal choices between work and family, Hillary emerged as a powerful role model and as a political leader in her own right. From her early career as a successful lawyer to her activist role as first lady, then to her work in the Senate and—in between two bids for the United States presidency— as Barack Obama’s secretary of state, Hillary challenged long‐held traditional beliefs about the role of women and about political leadership. As a focal point for influential women in American society, the first lady’s position has always reflected and informed the spirit and trends of the times. Hillary Clinton’s case was no exception. Much of the criticism leveled against her was largely a reflection of the tumultuous times in which she lived and of the ways in which women’s experiences were generally acknowledged and valued. Hillary’s relationship with her husband, Bill Clinton, and her own political aspirations provoked much discussion about women in power and about the influence that presidential

wives have in the White House. As biographer Barbara Burrell notes, Hillary’s role made people “think about and struggle with major questions about the relationship between private life, public life and gender politics” (Burrell, 2001: 3), questions that are more fully explored when the Clintons are viewed together, as a political power couple challenging the assumptions about traditional gender roles (Muir and Taylor, 2009b). Many conservative biographers saw Hillary as detrimental for America, both in terms of the policies she supported and in terms of how she personified the role of women. At the same time, liberal writers “grappled with the idea of a woman in an  unelected and unappointed position wielding political power as a senior adviser to the  President” (Burrell, 2001: 3). By virtue of who she is and of the experience she had  before moving into the White House, Hillary challenged all preconceived ideas about the role of the first lady and her specific levels of power and influence. It  is not surprising that one of Hillary Clinton’s role models was Eleanor Roosevelt, considered to be one of the most activist first ladies in the White House. Hillary Clinton’s (2003) book Living History has a chapter entitled “Conversations with

A Companion to First Ladies, First Edition. Edited by Katherine A. S. Sibley. © 2016 John Wiley & Sons, Inc. Published 2016 by John Wiley & Sons, Inc.

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Eleanor,” which is devoted to describing imaginary conversations she had with the former first lady that helped her get through challenging times. Throughout her life, Hillary has exhibited a strong personality and powerful leadership qualities. As a result, she has engendered an array of descriptions and narratives about who she really is and about the nature of her relationship with Bill. She has written, with editorial support, six books—including her most recent memoir, Hard Choices, which reflects on her role as secretary of state and lays out her thoughts about how to navigate the challenges of the twenty‐first century; it is a book that many pundits saw as a precursor to her second presidential bid (Clinton, 2014). Beyond her own storytelling, at least nine pro‐ Clinton and 27 anti‐Clinton biographies have been written and another, mostly neutral, 39 studies have been published about Hillary. Over thirty children’s and young adult books have been written about her life. To judge from these writings, it is clear that Hillary continues to confound writers who grapple with her political force, the role she plays as her husband’s partner, and the question of why she stays with Bill given his history of indiscretions. Some see her as forging a marriage for political convenience; others see her as part of a political team that dramatically changed the American political landscape (Morris, 1996; Mueller, 2008). Coming of age in a time when women were starting to explore their own capacities and leadership capabilities, Hillary Rodham Clinton provoked many conversations around the nation about the role of women and her specific role as first lady. From helping her husband’s campaign before the 1992 election to her handling of Senate Health Care hearings and other politically controversial issues and to her role in the White House, in subsequent elections, and beyond, it is clear that this first lady’s story continues to unfold in astounding and provocative ways.

Growing‐Up Hillary Hillary Diane Rodham was born on October 26, 1947 in Chicago, Illinois to Hugh and Dorothy Rodham. The oldest of three, Hillary was raised in a typical family of the 1950s, with a mother who stayed at home to care for the children and a domineering father who ran his own business. Surrounded by strong men—two brothers, Hugh Junior and Tony, along with her father, grandfather, and several uncles—Hillary was raised to be tough and aggressive when she needed to be. Her parents pushed her to stand up for herself and not let herself be bullied, and in many instances in her neighborhood the boys just let her take charge of things (Flinn, 2005: 9). She further developed her growing confidence as a Brownie and Girl Scout, and worked hard to live up to her father’s high expectations. Hugh Rodham, a father characteristic of so many families in the 1950s, was a strong presence in the family, focused always on his children’s performance of critical tasks, and even on their softball curves. A child of the Depression, he instilled in his daughter the values of frugality and hard work. He drilled her on stock investments and other ways to make money as well. Often referred to as “Mr. Reality Check” by Hillary, he was determined to teach his children the value of money and the importance of earning one’s keep (2005: 10). Hillary’s mother also had a strong penchant for learning; she taught her children card games to improve their math skills and took Hillary to the library every week (Clinton, 2003). Dorothy Rodham greatly valued her home and family, but education was a large priority even in her own life, where she amassed many college credits across different disciplines. She cared deeply about the mistreatment of children and the many who were disadvantaged through no fault of their own; as a result, she attempted to instill in her own children values such as humility and respect, telling them that they



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were “no better or worse than anyone else” (Clinton, 2003: 11). As a result of her parents’ persistence, high expectations, and strong values, Hillary was a quick learner and a straight A student, obedient and respectful of authority. However, these achievements were not reached without a great deal of emotional pain caused by her father. Their challenging relationship has been credited with f­ ortifying her, building Hillary’s fierce determination and endurance, as noted in Speaking of Hillary: The sense of stinted or denied love, a resort to refuge outside the family, the alternating warmth and vitriol, compassion and sarcasm, the tightly controlled yet seething perpetual anger not far beneath the impenetrable shell—all would be visible in the independent but camouflaged woman she became. (Flinn: 2005: 12)

Having lived through the Great Depression and World War II, Hillary’s parents were part of a generation that believed the postwar to be was one of “endless possibilities” that their children should assiduously grasp. In reflecting on this time and her parents’ upbringing, Hillary writes: “They believed in hard work; not entitlement; self‐reliance not self‐indulgence” (Clinton, 2003: 2). These values, which reflected the culture of the times, were instilled in the Rodhams’ children and exerted a strong influence on Hillary as the oldest child and only girl: she took them to heart. Unsurprisingly, given her father’s ideology, she was raised as a Republican; her Methodist background, moreover, helped her develop a strong belief in the importance of making America a better place to live. Religion played a significant role in the family. The Rodhams were members of the First United Methodist Church of Park Ridge, Illinois, a place that Hillary claims “opened my eyes to the needs of others and helped instill a sense of social

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responsibility rooted in my faith” (Clinton, 2003: 21). Anyone who has known Hillary well has recognized the importance of her Methodist upbringing and how her faith shaped her actions. Much of her rhetoric later in the White House would reflect her religious perspective. Her sense of obligation and responsibility to her country and her goal of improving the world were built on the foundation of her religious roots. Bob Woodward (1994) describes how Hillary’s spirituality was apparent in a speech she delivered at the University of Texas on April 6, 1993, titled the “Politics of Meaning.” The speech was a passionate call for a national renewal and was recognized as “an outpouring of religious ideas and 1960s concepts, full of better world rhetoric that reached beyond politics to the spiritual” (Woodward, 1994: 160). Biographer Donnie Radcliffe writes that this address underscored a commitment and an underlying philosophy that appears in many of her speeches, providing important clues as to who Hillary is and what she believes (Radcliffe, 1993: 243). Other biographers describe how Hillary’s religious upbringing—filled as it was with weekly church meetings, potlucks, and worship service—deeply shaped her future aspirations. Hillary was active in her church youth group, was greatly influenced by her pastor, and became very interested in theology, as it related to problems faced by society. Biographers describe a moment that left a deep impression on her: the church youth group traveled to hear Martin Luther King Junior speak, and Hillary had the opportunity to meet him afterwards (Gould, 1996: 632). A sense of the religious underpinnings and theology that were so ingrained in her background is important for better understanding her public advocacy and the primary issues she has cared about. Hillary has identified herself as “a progressive, an ethical Christian and a political activist” and has been as outspoken as a moral Methodist could be. Most importantly, she has long

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emphasized the importance of balancing family, work, and service in a way that aims to make the world a better place, especially for women and children (Radcliffe, 1993). Growing up at a time when so many girls felt limited by the life choices available to them, but nevertheless saw burgeoning possibilities to pursue, Hillary felt the tension between her mother on the one hand—the homemaker whose own political ideology (she was “basically a Democrat”) was submerged along with her role in the household—and her father on the other—the successful businessman, proud of his republican ideology “based on self‐reliance and personal initiative” (Clinton, 2003: 11). Hillary ultimately reconciled these aspects of her upbringing by referring to herself as a “mind conservative and a heart liberal” (Troy, 2006: 20). Even in high school, her values of personal initiative and hard work were apparent, as Hillary participated in student government, in the debate team, and in the National Honor Society, often taking on leadership roles. By the time she graduated, she was voted the girl “most likely to succeed” by her senior class (Mattina, 2004: 420). Hillary decided to attend Wellesley College, a women’s school near Boston, Massachusetts, in 1965. While at Wellesley she majored in political science and was exposed to more of King’s writing, as well as to the readings of Saul Alinsky, a Chicago activist who inspired her with his grassroots revolutionary rhetoric. She fundamentally disagreed with Alinsky’s radical tactics, however, and wrote her senior thesis on what she regarded as the limitations of such an approach to social change. She saw the best opportunity to change society as something that came from within (Troy, 2006: 18). It was especially King’s speech “Remaining Awake through a Revolution” that sparked her interest in change, with its challenge to the indifference of so many in the face of the racial and societal struggle that took place in this time. The speech opened Hillary’s eyes to the need for a new way of living together

(Clinton, 2003: 23). As these influences suggest, her college years (1965–1969) were critical in laying the groundwork for Hillary’s plan to work from within to change the system for the better. This was also the time when her conservative views began to change. Raised as a ­conservative Republican, like her father, she was a “Goldwater girl” in the 1964 presidential campaign and served as an intern for the House Republican Conference in 1968. However, through a combination of what she was learning in the classroom and an increasing awareness of political struggles compounded by the spirit of the times, she began to shift her perspective. She protested against the Vietnam War and thought deeply about ways to change society, as her senior thesis reflects. By the time she was a junior in college, she was registered as a Democrat and managed to attend the 1968 Democratic National Convention with the goal of changing the party’s establishment structure, which had effectively frozen out the more racially inclusive Mississippi Freedom Democratic Party in 1964 (Mattina, 2004: 420). Hillary will always be remembered at Wellesley as the first student to be selected as a student commencement speaker. When she graduated in 1969, she was chosen to give the address due, in large part, to the urgings of her classmates. Though she had a well‐prepared speech to deliver, at the last minute this speech turned into an impromptu challenge to the keynote speaker, who she believed did not recognize the particular problems that students of the 1960s faced. When Senator Edward Brooke (R‐MA), the only African American senator of his era, spoke to her fellow students in lofty platitudes about going forth and being successful, Hillary decided to make her remarks about the world that her classmates had experienced through the tumultuous sixties. Her class at Wellesley had lived through the assassinations of President John F. Kennedy, Reverend Martin Luther King Junior, and Senator Robert Kennedy. They



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had seen the early stages of the civil rights movement and watched the Vietnam War unfold on their black‐and‐white television sets. While her desire was not to be confrontational to the keynote speaker, Hillary wanted to recognize the times that her classmates had experienced and the challenges they would face going forward into the world. She noted: Our attitudes are easily understood having grown up, having come to consciousness in the first five years of this decade—years dominated by men with dreams, men in the civil rights movement, the Peace Corps, the space program—so we arrived at Wellesley and we found, as all of us have found, that there was a gap between expectation and realities. But it wasn’t a discouraging gap and it didn’t turn us into cynical, bitter old women at the age of 18. It just inspired us to do something about that gap. (Rodham, 1969)

While at Wellesley, Hillary had had a central role in student leadership and challenged some of Wellesley’s long‐standing academic policies and admissions processes; this speech was another attempt to push the status quo. Through her steady tone and sheer courage, the address was viewed as one of Hillary’s most triumphal moments prior to her time in the White House (Troy, 2006: 20). Coming full circle back to her college roots, she was invited to deliver Wellesley’s commencement speech in 1992, just before her husband won his first presidential bid to the White House, defeating the husband of the first lady who had most recently delivered a speech at Wellesley: Barbara Bush. Becoming Clinton Forging a political bond After her years at Wellesley, Hillary moved to New Haven, Connecticut, in order to attend Yale Law School, where women were

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just fifteen percent of her class. Once there, she developed a great interest in family law and in children’s rights, working directly with her soon‐to‐be mentor, Marian Wright Edelman, whom she met while working on a project of drafting guidelines for the treatment of abused children for the Yale‐New Haven Hospital. As a result of her work Hillary was invited to join Edelman’s staff, serving as an unpaid summer intern for her Washington research project on children. The relationship forged that summer with Edelman carried well into Hillary’s professional life, as she continued to advocate for children’s rights. In fact Hillary’s work with Edelman framed much of the viewpoint she would eventually take as first lady, working for the rights of women and children around the world and laying out specific commitments in her book It Takes a Village (Clinton, 1996). During her period at Yale, Hillary was introduced to her future husband, Bill Clinton. Their initial introduction was rather lackluster, and it was only after many glances and some lingering eye contact that Hillary, in 1971, finally took the initiative to talk to Bill at the Yale Library. Bill, born William Jefferson Clinton, was an outgoing and by all accounts brilliant student from Arkansas. He was the opposite of Hillary in many ways, for example in his style and in his gregarious nature. It has been reported by biographers that, on his first date with Hillary, Bill talked his way into an art museum that had been closed due to a labor dispute, while she looked on in amazement (Radcliffe, 1993: 101). His attractiveness and communication style led Hillary to describe Bill as a “Viking from Arkansas” with a “vitality that seemed to shoot out of his pores” (Clinton, 2003: 53). While they quickly developed into a couple, they were often at odds with each other. She was a moralist, the “smartest person Bill had ever met”; Bill was viewed as having an extraordinary mind and a huge heart, and both were depicted as being strong‐willed and

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stubborn (Troy, 2006: 23). Once the two began their courtship, it was clear that they had political ambitions of their own and that their alliance could achieve many of their long‐term goals. They participated in mock trials together, worked on the 1972 presidential campaign for George McGovern, and began to forge their political careers as a couple (Muir and Taylor, 2009b). After graduating from Yale Law School in 1973, Bill traveled back to Arkansas to teach law at the University of Arkansas and to prepare for his first congressional run, while Hillary moved north to Cambridge, Massachusetts, to work for Edelman at the Children’s Defense Fund. She then went on to Washington, DC, to work for the House Judiciary Committee, where she investigated the possible impeachment of President Richard Nixon. After Nixon resigned, and having passed the Arkansas bar exam, Hillary was offered a position at the University of Arkansas Law School. As an Ivy League graduate with both Washington and Boston experience, she was highly employable; however, she decided to give up her career path on the East Coast and follow her heart to Arkansas in order to be with Bill and to support him in his next political campaign. Hillary’s parents and many of her friends thought this to be a great mistake, as she was abandoning her potential as a star in the legal profession; her choice was also questioned by many feminists at the time (Troy, 2006: 26). To be fair, opportunities for women lawyers, even stars like Hillary, were limited, and being hired as a law professor, even in Arkansas, was an option not open to many. While Hillary grew up in a conventional 1950s‐style family with a domineering father and a rather submissive mother, Bill’s childhood has been more difficult, filled with stories of dysfunction and abuse. His father died three months before Bill was born, and his mother remarried. Her second husband was a man who drank and could be physically abusive to his wife and sons. His mother, surviving the abuse and having

been widowed three times, raised her son in the spirit of always maintaining positive appearances to the outside world, even if one’s world was falling apart inside (Troy, 2006: 25). Bill’s home life provided an important narrative as he moved forward in developing his political career. Always able to put on a good “public face,” he used his difficult past to build his character for the future, knowing that his experiences were preparing him well for politics. Bill’s focus at the time explains his attraction to Hillary Rodham— someone who was well bred and powerful and who believed in the same broad goals of the progressive moment they lived in. They were both ambitious enough to want to work within the system while also trying to reform it. The two formed an intense intellectual and political bond, which would keep them engaged in long debates and many arguments. At that time, Bill also showed signs of an inability to remain faithful to Hillary—perhaps the most direct reflection of his difficult upbringing. Despite these challenges, Bill believed that he was destined to marry Hillary and proposed numerous times, though she always said no (Clinton, 2003: 61). Arkansas politics Finally Hillary gave in, and on October 11, 1975 the two future leaders were married in the livingroom of their first home in Little Rock, Arkansas; 15 family members and friends were present to bear witness. By then they had known each other for almost five years, had lived together during law school, and had deliberated about marriage for over two years. In 1980 Hillary and Bill’s only child, Chelsea Victoria Clinton, was born. Hillary was a devoted mother to Chelsea, working very hard to keep her out of the public eye and limiting media reports on her life, especially while the Clintons were living in the White House.



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Though she gave up her career to follow Bill, Hillary exhibited strong feminist qualities and kept her professional ambitions moving forward in tandem with her husband’s; this was a challenge specific to this period in American history, when so many women struggled to pursue their personal goals. Hillary also chose to keep her maiden name, Rodham, a decision she had actually made when she was nine years old (Radcliffe, 1993: 35). She joined the faculty at the University of Arkansas law school and began to work in a local law firm. In this rural part of the country she felt like she stood out, surprised at the intimacy of the small town country flavor (1993: 36). In 1976 Bill was elected the state’s attorney general and the Clintons moved to Little Rock, where Hillary became the first female partner at the Rose Law Firm. She was quite successful in this position, where along with her corporate responsibilities she established a national reputation by working with the Children’s Defense Fund and the Legal Services Corporation and serving as the first female chair of the latter. As a result of her success, she was twice recognized as one of the one hundred most influential lawyers in America by the National Law Journal. Bill’s election as attorney general was a good stepping stone to higher office; and by 1979, at the age of thirty‐two, he became the nation’s youngest governor. Hillary Rodham was thrust into a new spotlight—a place where she came to realize that her personal choices could impact her husband’s political future. Identified as “that feminist in the governor’s mansion” (Troy, 2006: 30), Hillary faced great criticism in her role and alienated many voters with her particular style—a style that likely contributed to Bill’s reelection loss in 1980. Reflecting on those years, Hillary writes: The pressures on me to conform had increased dramatically when Bill was elected Governor in 1978. I could get

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away with being considered a little unconventional as the wife of the Attorney General, but as First Lady of Arkansas, I was thrown into an unblinking spotlight. And for the first time, I came to realize how my personal choices could impact my husband’s political future. (Clinton, 2003: 91)

Certainly Bill’s failed bid to return to the governor’s mansion in 1981 devastated him and deeply conflicted Hillary. Voters were unhappy with several developments in Clinton’s first term, including a raise in car tag fees and the Carter administration’s unpopular housing of 25,000 Cuban refugees at Fort Chaffee (Clinton, 2005). But some biographers speculate that Bill’s loss was also due to the fact that people resented Hillary and her “feminist” ways. One particular object of resentment was her decision to keep her maiden name rather than taking her husband’s. While Hillary viewed this as an act of self‐worth (Clinton, 2003: 30), it was unusual at that time in Arkansas and seen by some as an insult to all the women in America who took their husband’s name upon marriage. Another point of resentment was some voters’ perception of her as too pushy and uppity: in their eyes, she failed to behave as a respectable southern woman, especially the wife of a governor (Mattina, 2004: 422). People wanted her to change her name, her hair, and her identity. She was simply seen as “too‐Northern and too‐feminist” (Troy, 2006: 30). It was during this time that Bill experienced his own internal conflict and sank into a dark period of his life—drifting professionally, being generally despondent, and aggressively pursuing other women, a habit that would return later in the White House (2006: 30). As part of the Clintons’ practice of compromise (a strategy that would stay with them throughout their political careers), Hillary traded her thick glasses for contact lenses, put blond streaks in her hair, began to dress in a more feminine manner, and became Mrs. Bill Clinton. In Living History

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she discusses the pressures she felt to conform in order to give her husband the best possible chance of being reelected as governor: My parents raised me to focus on the inner qualities of people, not the way they dressed or the titles they held. That sometimes made it hard for me to understand the importance of certain conventions to others. I learned the hard way that some voters in Arkansas were seriously offended by the fact that I kept my maiden name. … People in Arkansas reacted to me much as my mother‐in‐law had when she first met me: I was an oddity because of my dress, my Northern ways, and the use of my maiden name. (Clinton, 2003: 91–92)

Her changes seemed to appease Arkansans, and Bill won the governorship again in 1982 and kept that position for ten years, until he defeated incumbent George Bush and third‐party candidate Ross Perot in the 1992 presidential race. While living in Arkansas as the state’s first lady for a second term, Hillary learned to adapt to her environment and to find ways of identifying with her fellow Arkansans. Building on the work she began as a young intern in law school, Hillary became actively involved in children’s rights and served as chair of the State Education Committee. She also served on a task force designed to reform Arkansas’s educational system, appearing multiple times before the joint Senate–House Education Committee to discuss child welfare issues that impacted the state. As a result of her activism and commitment, she was named Arkansas Woman of the Year in 1983 and Arkansas Mother of the Year in 1985. During Bill’s second term in the governor’s mansion, Hillary placed his career before her own, taking a leave of absence from the Rose Law firm. When there was negative media coverage about his administration, she would publicly defend her

husband and she frequently used the first person pronoun in the plural, “we,” rather than in the singular, “he.” For example, when she talked about one of the governor’s successful programs, she claimed: “we made it one of our priorities … we have dramatically improved our services” (Troy, 2006: 34). In heated political situations, Bill would use Hillary as a sort of lightning rod in order to determine how the public would respond to certain issues. She could put herself in front of the press as first lady, persuasively present the administration’s position on an issue, and gain a quick sense of whether or not public sentiment would support his view (Mueller, 2008: 2–4). According to biographer Gil Troy, the Clintons showed a willingness “to fight hard, to stretch the rules, and rationalize aggressive tactics by pointing to the nobility of their political aims” (Troy, 2006: 34). They were considered part of the nation’s liberal power elite, speaking as they did of reform with a disdain for capitalistic ideas and establishment norms. At the same time they were part of Arkansas’s power elite too, and they flourished in a culture of “cronyism, back‐scratching, sweetheart deals, and get‐rich‐quick schemes” with increased financial opportunities that would eventually lead to the controversial Whitewater project and to charges of tax evasion and bank fraud (2006: 36). Biographers write about this pre‐presidential time in distinct ways. Some posit that Hillary strategically situated herself in generally hostile territory, sacrificing many of her own personal sensibilities and philosophy for the political aspirations of her husband (Brock, 1996; Radcliffe, 1993; Flinn, 2005). Though she put aside her own career goals for the sake of her husband’s early success, others see this time as important for building the Clinton political team, learning how to work together, and managing gender expectations (Muir and Taylor, 2009a; Mueller, 2008; Bernstein, 2008). The Clintons, some biographers suggest, clearly



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set a political agenda early on in their marriage: both intended to be political leaders, both had aspirations to the presidency, both shared a desire to change society from within (Muir and Taylor, 2009b; Estrich, 2005). Others see a more self‐serving agenda and characterize the Clintons as hungry for power, calculating each political decision they made, and willing to destroy anything or anyone who might get in their way (Anderson, 1999; Klein, 2005). Unauthorized Clinton biographers Gerth and Van Natta go further in their suspicions of the Clintons’ political agenda, noting how, from their first encounter, everything was done with great political calculation and intended for the greatest political gain (Gerth and Van Natta, 2007: 8–9). Collecting over five hundred interviews and previously undisclosed documents, the authors substantiate their belief that Bill and Hillary strategized from the very early stages of their relationship how each would one day be president; thus these researchers present a portrait of the Clintons as steeped in calculations and plans for the future. No matter how one considers these early years in the Clintons’ relationship—no matter whether one regards the two of them as idealistic dreamers or as calculating schemers— it is clear that Hillary Rodham Clinton’s life before the White House and the bond she shared with her husband were formative in that they shaped her political aspirations, her strategies for success, and ultimately the woman she is today. The White House Years In 1987 Bill Clinton decided to throw his hat into the presidential campaign fray only to be quickly thwarted by a long list of girlfriends and reported indiscretions. At the time, presidential candidate Gary Hart was a viable contender until his own adulterous relationship was discovered. Once that story surfaced, stories about other candidates,

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such as Bill, also came to light. Considering this issue and the fact that there were so many Democrats vying to be president as Ronald Reagan finished his term, Bill rescinded his candidacy, but gained more national attention with his powerful speaking skills and southern charm. He was invited to deliver the 1988 Democratic National Convention nomination speech for Michael Dukakis, and this resulted in significant media coverage and in an appearance on the Tonight Show, where Bill’s folksy style and self‐deprecating humor captivated many Americans (Mattina, 2004: 422). These appearances foreshadowed the political whirlwind that would occur less than four years later, in 1992, as Bill began to run again for president with Hillary by his side. Running for president While governor of Arkansas, Bill Clinton declared his candidacy for presidency amid several questions about his ability to lead, particularly due to his perceived inexperience and his alleged indiscretions with other women. He promised a new kind of leadership and introduced Hillary as his wife, friend, and partner in a combined effort to build a better future for America. Pitching his campaign as a partnership, on the campaign trail he would talk about “buy one get one free,” and she would agree: “if you vote for him, you get me.” Her formula ushered in an age of joint leadership and political reform (Troy, 2006: 38). While this campaign strategy showed a marked contrast to that of George H. W. Bush, who was characterized as being too out of touch for America—especially given his apparent surprise at a supermarket barcode reader in 1992—it eventually faltered, as Hillary’s favorability ratings decreased. The marriage was viewed by many simply as a marriage of convenience, a professional arrangement, and their relationship was mocked. David Brock, one of the Clintons’ harshest critics

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during their presidency, noted people’s suspicions about the idea of a co‐presidency and the power that someone like Hillary Clinton would wield as first lady (Brock, 1996: viii). Some of the more negative biographers depicted the relationship between Bill and Hillary as one aimed solely at political gains rather than based on trust and love (Klein, 2005; Noonan, 2000). To respond to these concerns, Hillary actively supported her husband through the electoral process. She stayed by his side, even during the famous 60 Minutes interview where Steve Kroft challenged the Clintons to discuss the story of Gennifer Flowers, a woman alleged to have had a twelve‐year affair with Bill. This 60 Minutes segment, aired January 26, 1992 following the Superbowl, was the Clintons’ début to the nation. The goal of the segment was to put to rest Bill’s womanizing tendencies and to describe why he would make a good president. Political advisors were convinced that having Hillary by his side as his loving wife was the only way in which Bill could stop the public’s questioning and save the campaign (Muir and Taylor, 2009b: 12–15). Prior to the interview much criticism had been leveled at Bill, some of which he was unable to deflect. The strategy for the 60 Minutes segment was to show Hillary’s support for Bill and let Americans see how they were together. She claimed to love, honor, and respect her husband and to stand by him, and she recognized what they had been through together. Intentionally avoiding the word “adultery,” both admitted that Bill had caused pain in their marriage. Interviewer Steven Kroft was persistent in his questioning about Gennifer Flowers, pushing Bill to define his relationship with the singer and to confirm or deny that he had violated his marital vows. The Clintons engaged in evasive tactics, responding with just enough ambiguity to create doubt—a strategy that would continue to be apparent throughout their political careers. Hillary’s infamous reference to lyrics from Tammy Wynette’s song “Stand

by Your Man” and her quip “if you don’t like him, then don’t vote for him” surprised audiences, who were struck by both her candor and her forcefulness. During the interview she let her husband do most of the talking; her job was to shift attention toward reporters as predators who falsely accused women of having affairs with her husband in order to find ways to attack the couple’s personal life. In the interview she commented: There isn’t a person watching this who would feel comfortable sitting on this couch detailing everything that ever went on in their life or their marriage. And I think it’s real dangerous in this country if we don’t have some zone of privacy for everybody. (Quoted in Troy, 2006: 39)

In a later reflection about this interview, Kroft noted how Hillary was clearly in charge of the segment, even if Bill did most of the talking. She knew how she wanted to handle the interview and the image that needed to come across if they were going to deflect the various criticisms lobbied against them. While Hillary received mixed support from voters, this interview and the way she handled the difficult topic were seen as a positive turning point in Bill’s presidential campaign (Mattina, 2004: 423). Biographers are mixed in their accounts of the relationship between Hillary and Bill and the selling of a “co‐presidency.” Some write about the implications of a spouse‐based presidential political team and report how media coverage of the two distilled their relationship down to terms such as “Billary,” “HillBill,” and “Clinton–Clinton,” blending these two distinct personalities into a complex gendered image (Morris, 1996; Muir and Taylor, 2009a, 2009b). While the early 1990s provided more positive experiences and opportunities for women, there was still the perception that Hillary belittled female roles by suggesting that women without careers outside the home were in some way



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inadequate. One quotation in particular sparked great controversy when she responded to charges of conflict of interest regarding her financial dealings in Arkansas while her husband was governor. When asked if there was a way to avoid this perception of conflict, she stated: You know I suppose I could have stayed home and baked cookies and had teas, but what I decided to do was fulfill my profession which I entered before my husband was in public life. And I’ve tried very, very hard to be as careful as possible and that’s all I can tell you. (Quoted in Troy, 2006: 49)

Biographers have noted the uproar over her comments, as many people were concerned about the possibility of a feminist first lady who would put her career before her country (Mattina, 2004: 428). Major opposition strategies developed against Hillary, and throughout her husband’s two terms in office she tended to polarize the press—it seemed to either adore her or despise her, as the number of pro‐Hillary and anti‐Hillary books will attest. Despite the negative criticism and media reactions, Bill Clinton managed to win the election and was inaugurated in January 1993 as the third youngest president ever to be elected. With Hillary and Chelsea at his side, Bill approached his presidency as one of progressive leadership that ushered in change and brought a Democrat back into the White House—for the first time since 1976, when Jimmy Carter won the presidency. At the same time some of his policies, like welfare reform, epitomized a more centrist “New Democrat” approach and ­ appealed to the so‐called Reagan Democrats.

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then African Americans could vote, women’s rights were more clearly defined, and women were gradually moving into higher paying jobs. Given her many experiences, Hillary came into the White House looking for a clear role and position that would support her husband and serve the country in a meaningful way. Her actions as first lady, like those of many before her, would be carefully watched and heavily scrutinized (Figure 37.1). Hillary approached her role as first lady with the same sort of energy and commitment that she put into any of her other careers. Knowing that her main role was to support her husband, Hillary did consider the primary functions of the position as well as first lady models of the past. Abigail Adams stood out for her prolific writing, Eleanor Roosevelt for her activism. Indeed, it was Eleanor’s style and force that inspired Hillary to follow her own path and to find

First lady and policy advocate It is important to keep in mind the spirit of the 1990s. Hillary Rodham Clinton was the last first lady of the twentieth century. By

Figure 37.1  First Lady Hillary Rodham Clinton. Source: Photo courtesy of Clinton Presidential Library.

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ways of using her occupancy of the White House so as to change lives for the better, especially for women and children (Clinton, 2003: 258–259). Hillary’s Yale Law degree, career connections, and activist agenda would suit her well as she settled into the White House and her role as first lady. Hillary was not the kind of first lady content to be a White House hostess or a fashion trendsetter, roles that many of her predecessors embraced with grace and satisfaction (Gould, 1996). She understood that these were important functions of the position and she adequately managed them, but there was much more that she wanted to do as first lady. For a start, Hillary took her position of power seriously, hiring a staff of twenty and setting up an office on the second floor of the West Wing of the White House, something that no other first lady had done before. The office of the first lady was usually located in the East Wing and focused on ceremonial activities. While Hillary kept her East Wing space for her staff, an office in the West Wing brought her closer to the center of policymaking. From her viewpoint, the location of her office was essential to keeping her connected to Bill’s agenda, especially as it related to issues affecting women and children (Clinton, 2003: 133). To outside observers, Hillary’s office space, so central to the place of power in the White House, reinforced the idea of a co‐presidency and the notion that she would play a key role in many areas of policymaking. Even in a White House organizational chart, the top box of authority consisted of three people who could sign off on big decisions: the president, the vice president, and the first lady (Gerth and Van Natta, 2007: 123). By the time Hillary Clinton was first lady, it was common for the presidential spouse to take on special projects such as beautification of the roadways (Lady Bird Johnson) or mental health awareness (Rosalyn Carter). Five days after Bill Clinton took the presidential oath of office, he announced

the formation of the president’s Task Force on National Health Care Reform with Hillary as the chair. Many in Washington questioned this decision and her expertise on this issue—a shortcoming to which Hillary admitted; however, it was clear that health care in the United States needed serious attention and that Hillary would work hard to help make the difficult policy decisions (Gerth and Van Natta, 2007: 118). It was a challenging role to take on, one that many saw as a thankless task doomed to failure; it would simply take too much time to persuade Congress to consider a major overhaul for health care. Hillary forged ahead, with the goal of seeing a health‐care bill submitted to Congress within a hundred days—a goal that was perceived as unreasonably lofty, given Washington politics (Flinn, 2005: 62). Indeed, Hillary moved too fast for Capitol Hill. Given the complexity of the issue, it would take time to bring congressional members to her side—lots of deliberation, analysis and compromise would need to come first— an important contrast to Arkansas politics, where Hillary and Bill knew all the players and power centers. The result was several appearances at Senate hearings where she presented the Clinton administration’s position on health‐care policy with expertise and passion, much as Rosalynn Carter had done before her on behalf of mental health (but reaching that moment had taken most of the Carter presidency). Despite Hillary’s increasingly rich understanding of the health‐care problems in the United States and of the specific policies being advocated by the administration, her role in this issue was met with distinct, polarizing perspectives. Biographers capture these reactions in different ways. Some describe her as the best person to present the president’s health care policy; others see her as overstepping the boundaries of what counted as appropriate first lady pursuits (Noonan, 2000). Years later, upon reflection on the failed health‐care policy, Hillary would admit



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that her biggest mistake in this initiative was not the policy itself, but rather her failure to fully understand Washington politics. She simply did not realize “the way Washington worked and the way the White House worked” and had “no clear sense from the beginning about what was possible and what wasn’t possible.” This assessment acknowledges only a partial fault and insinuates that other people were holding her back (Gerth and Van Natta, 2007: 121). Biographers note a recurring theme in Hillary’s rhetoric, namely her missteps in trying to do too much too fast and in not recognizing the resistance she would face as a first lady dealing directly with critical policy issues. She also failed to acknowledge that her approach may have been flawed—in this case, by perceptions of its secrecy (Brock, 1996; Bernstein, 2008). Beyond the health‐care issue, Hillary was actively involved in other policy concerns, shepherding programs such as the Adoption and Safe Families Act and support for the Office on Violence against Women at the Department of Justice. Additionally, she traveled the world as an ambassador for her husband and for the country, often making two to three speeches a day on children’ rights and women’s roles. Hillary’s commitment to women’s rights around the globe was noteworthy. In 1995 she was invited to speak at the UN Fourth World Conference in Beijing, China. Her speech, “Women’s Rights are Human Rights,” addressed the importance of women’s social and economic development and was highly praised, even by her critics (Flinn, 2005: 228). By 1996 Hillary was the most traveled first lady, having visited over 25 countries. Her book It Takes a Village (Clinton, 1996) was a culmination of these travel experiences and provided an analysis of what the United States needed to do in order to address children’s rights around the world. This work was an extension of the interests she developed when working with Marian Wright Edelman years before in Washington.

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There were other ways Hillary enacted the first lady role. As she traveled internationally, speaking to women young and old about the ways their lives could be empowered, she lived by example, raising her own daughter in the White House. Highly protective of Chelsea, Hillary showed how a woman could be a mother and also maintain an active agenda for political change across the globe. Since many women struggled with trying to work and raise a family, Hillary showed that it could be done, and done well—so long as she benefitted, of course, from the support of many others around her (Flinn, 2005: 278). Whitewater and beyond Any discussion of the White House during the Clinton years must ultimately address how various Arkansas dealings percolated up to the presidential level. One issue in particular was the Whitewater investigation that centered on an Arkansas land development project and Hillary Clinton’s specific role in the dealings. In 1994, following reports that questioned White House activities and specific practices carried out by the first lady, Congress launched a probe and appointed Special Prosecutor Kenneth Starr as chief investigator. Several issues were of concern: a cattle futures investment of $10,000, made by Hillary, which grew to $100,000; missing documents from the Rose Law Firm that were eventually found in the White House; and the unexplained suicide of Vince Foster, deputy White House counsel for the Clinton administration, a former Rose Law Firm partner, and a long‐ time friend of Hillary’s. Hillary was investigated by Starr six times, and in 1996 became the only first lady to have ever been subpoenaed to testify. In the end James McDougal, owner of Madison Guaranty, a Savings and Loan institution that Hillary represented, Jim Guy Tucker, governor of Arkansas, and Webster Hubble,

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another Rose Law Firm partner, were all convicted for financial misdealings. While Hillary was not indicted for anything related to Whitewater, the incident inevitably hurt the credibility of the Clinton administration (Flinn, 2005: 138–139). Elected to two presidential terms, the Clinton administration experienced different degrees of success. Though the Health Care initiative failed on Capitol Hill, there were many noteworthy achievements during those eight years. While Bill Clinton was in office, “the United States experienced more peace and economic well‐being than at any time in its history” (White House, n.d.). Low unemployment rates, low inflation, dropping crime rates, and a balanced budget were all hallmarks of this administration. As the Whitewater investigation continued to distract the American public from these successes, the darkest spot of the Clinton presidency surfaced, and it involved a dalliance with a White House intern. This indiscretion eventually led to Bill Clinton’s impeachment hearings and to his making a public apology to the American people. Hillary had long been aware of Bill’s interest in other women. In 1991 Paula Jones, an Arkansas state employee, sued then Governor Clinton for sexual harassment, and this action resulted in an out‐of‐ court settlement for Jones. The Gennifer Flowers story, of course, has been mentioned above. But in 1998 Bill’s penchant for women came to a conclusion that would be an embarrassment before the nation. Monica Lewinsky, a White House intern for two years, was reported in January 1998 to be engaged in a relationship with the president. Pentagon public affairs officer Linda Tripp reported the affair to Kenneth Starr after Lewinsky, by now a colleague of Tripp’s at the Pentagon, had confided in her about the on‐and‐off sexual relationship she was having with the president. Tripp not only taped their conversation, but encouraged Lewinsky to save incriminating evidence that would implicate the

president in the affair—which Lewinsky did. While her stained blue dress gained notoriety, the critical part of the story, especially for the purpose of Starr’s investigation, was the claim that the president helped Lewinsky get a corporate job in New York and encouraged her to lie under oath about the nature of their relationship. The story made the front page of the Washington Post and started a maelstrom of debate about Bill’s time in the White House. It also raised important questions about Hillary’s knowledge of the affair and how she would handle this very public issue. The Independent Counsel delivered its findings to Congress in the fall of 1998. The Starr Report included thousands of pages of graphic description about the Lewinsky– Clinton relationship and evidence that could constitute grounds for impeachment. By December, Bill became the second US president to be impeached by Congress for the “High Crimes and Misdemeanors” of lying under oath and obstruction of justice. In February 1999 the Senate trial ended in acquittal, yet the Clinton administration would always be remembered for this dark time and for the door it opened into the private lives of Bill and Hillary. While Bill’s popularity was unstable at the time, Hillary’s popularity skyrocketed, especially around how she handled the situation (Bernstein, 2008; Flinn, 2005). Any biography of the Clinton administration will include accounts of the Lewinsky relationship, its impact on the presidency, and how Hillary responded (or should have responded) to the situation. Gerth and Van Natta (2007: 175) talk about Hillary’s anger with Bill about the affair—she was well aware of his relationships with women, but what she couldn’t understand was Bill’s lack of judgment in giving prosecutors ammunition to attack his presidency. For her, the betrayal was most egregious in the details and length of the affair. But she accepted his explanation of the issue, determined to carry on and defend her husband to the end.



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Hillary’s autobiography dismisses the Lewinsky relationship as yet another attack by the press. She acknowledges her surprise, mostly about the president’s stupidity, given the situation, and then she goes on to blame the media and the public investigators for “going after” the president. While furious with Bill about his behavior, after days of deep soul searching she resolved to stand by Bill—not as her husband, but as her president (Clinton, 2003: 471). This meant that she needed to focus on herself, their administration, and what needed to be done in order for her to fulfill her personal and public obligations. She was deeply hurt, personally embarrassed, and very concerned that Bill had given his enemies real evidence they could use after many years of “false charges, partisan investigations and lawsuits” (2003: 471). Hillary believed that, in spite of his behavior as a husband, he was a good president and a powerful world leader, a point she would make as she took the lead in his defense. Kelley (2001) discusses the very careful rhetorical strategies the Clinton administration engaged in in order to deflect attention from Bill and discredit people such as Linda Tripp and Kenneth Starr. Describing Hillary as going into “battle mode,” Kelley details how the first lady became her husband’s chief defender by painting Kenneth Starr as a “politically motivated prosecutor” who was part of a group of evil and malicious people set on disgracing her husband’s presidency (Kelley, 2001: 209–211). She appeared in television interviews attacking “the vast right‐wing conspiracy that has been conspiring against my husband since the day he announced for President” and indicating that she loved her husband, knew better than anyone else who he was, and believed in him as president of the United States. Her reaction was seen as a public relations masterpiece; it presented the portrait of a family deeply wounded but willing to continue to make it work. In reflecting on this reaction, Edward Klein explained

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that, for Hillary, “the sense of impending danger and implacable enemies had reinforced her belief that she and the President are doing important, historic things, and also reinforced her ability to reject even the most plausible claims against her husband” (quoted in Flinn, 2005: 275). Specifically concerned about the way Hillary operated in the White House, an unidentified White House aide claimed: “I’m amazed by the political naïveté—the good‐versus‐evil quality … It has enormous influence over the way things are done in this Administration” (quoted in Flinn, 2005: 275). Hillary’s behavior during the Lewinsky ordeal showed a controlled, thoughtful woman who continued to stand by her man when many people could not understand why. Her choices have been among the most analyzed and criticized choices of any first lady—or perhaps woman—in America. There has been great speculation as to why she stayed with Bill through the various ordeals, particularly when she was so evidently capable and smart in her own right. Many women, however, saw Hillary in a different light. Some viewed her as a modern woman who was protecting not only her husband and the relationship, but the dignity of her own roles as a first lady, as a mother, and as a professional woman (Flinn, 2005: 278). Others were supportive of Hillary due to the personal–public nature of the event. Hillary asked for privacy for her family throughout the ordeal, and the public supported and understood this appeal. She sent a clear message that the issue was strictly between her and Bill, and that she had things under control (2005: 279). This sense of control through many challenging times is a theme that permeates most narratives about Bill and Hillary Clinton. In Tag Teaming the Press, James Mueller (2008) writes about how the Clintons would work together to handle the media, using complementary strengths to achieve their political goals. Troy writes about the remarkable control strategy

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sessions that the Clintons would run as they determined how to craft responses on the Gennifer Flowers issue (Troy, 2006: 46) and, later, on the issue of the Whitewater accounts. Kelley describes Hillary’s adept rhetorical management of the media during the ongoing political investigations, noting that the first lady was “more than just an appendage on the president’s arm … She was also a political institution and a powerful ally as well as a presidential partner” (Kelley, 2001: xvi). A different interpretation of this partnership is offered by Gerth and Van Natta, who describe the Clintons as hypersensitive to an overreactive media: “Their conviction that the press assumed the worst led them in some cases to hunker down and not put out all the facts” (Gerth and Van Natta, 2007: 123). Yet, with the Lewinsky story, the tides turned for Hillary. Her composure through the ordeal, the clear sense of anger she had toward Bill, and her private retreat to sort through her reactions revealed a strong woman who could weather the storm and support her husband and president through the most perilous times. Hillary’s popularity soared and her behavior choices helped again to foreshadow and shape the political success she would find, once she was removed from the confines of the White House—in a political career that would far surpass the accomplishments of any first lady of the twentieth and likely of the twenty‐first century as well. Moving Forward Following their time in the White House, the Clintons moved to New York, where Hillary eventually ran against New York Mayor Rudy Giuliani to become in 2001 the junior senator of New York—the first woman to be elected to this position from that state. During her time in office, Senator Clinton worked to revive New York City after the 9/11 attacks and supported mili-

tary action against terrorism in Afghanistan. She later voted against George W. Bush’s two major tax proposal cuts and pushed to stop the Iraq War troop surge. In January 2007 Hillary announced on her website that she had formed a presidential exploratory committee and that she was “in to win” the 2008 campaign. An historic moment of the campaign was Hillary’s success in the New Hampshire primary: she was the first woman to ever win that election, and this ushered in a real possibility that one day she would be president of the United States. Although Illinois Senator Barack Obama won the presidency, Hillary was selected to serve as his secretary of state, replacing Condoleeza Rice, who had served under the Bush administration. After four years in this position and many successful trips around the world (she landed in 112 countries, more than any other secretary), Hillary resigned her position in order to work with the Clinton Foundation and consider her next steps. As of this writing, she has announced her candidacy for the presidency in 2016. As she moves forward in her second presidential bid, Hillary Clinton brings the American public closer to imagining yet another “first,” a time when gender barriers are broken down and a woman finally occupies one of the most powerful positions in the free world. Historians who have followed the Clintons throughout the years know that it is this moment that Hillary has been preparing for all her life. What is harder to imagine, though, is how she would navigate this powerful new role, with Bill as the presidential spouse in the background. Given Hillary’s record of success after completing her two terms as first lady, biographers have continued to question why she stayed with Bill when she was clearly so capable of achieving political stature in her own right. During the Clintons’ time in the White House, David Brock wondered why a “remarkably independent young woman like Hillary was susceptible to Bill Clinton in the first place” and claimed that Bill



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continually kept Hillary from achieving her own independent accomplishments (Brock, 1996: 416). That particular line of argument seems less plausible now, given her impressive record of political and diplomatic success since January 20, 2001; but others still wrestle with the question of the Clintons’ staying together. As Flinn (2005), Radcliffe (1993), Troy (2006), and Bernstein (2008) suggest, Hillary deeply loves her husband, she has committed herself to marriage for the long term, and she realizes that, when the Clintons are taken together, their political reach as a team is unsurpassable. In reflecting on Hillary’s time in the White House, Representative Pat Schroeder (D‐CO) described the role that Hillary played in bringing women’s issues to the forefront when previous administrations had refused to consider such concerns. The first bill signing at the Clinton White House was the Family and Medical Leave Act (1993), and it was not the only bill dealing with women’s and children’s issues that was passed largely due to Hillary’s presence in the administration. In 1999 Schroeder well summarized Hillary Clinton’s impact on her generation and the rich possibilities that may follow for her in the future: Hillary is one of the smartest women I’ve met. She is a great transitional model for women at the end of the century. She has protected her husband and child as a lioness. … She has waited for her turn and it’s here. Hillary Rodham Clinton is one classic American role model for the end of the century that has seen so much change in women’s lives. (Quoted in Flinn, 2005: 311)

Despite criticism about her choices and her various political roles, Hillary has managed to negotiate polarized viewpoints and to gather a history of firsts. She was the first presidential spouse to win an elective office, the first woman to win a statewide election in New York, and the first woman to be a

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serious contender for the US presidency— not once but twice. She has always been an activist, willing to take risks and to pave the way for other women to follow, and she has, in her varied and full life, made a difference in the world. Other biographies will continue to capture the richness of Hillary Rodham Clinton’s life as she forges her next chapter and further considers her lasting legacy.

References Anderson, C. 1999. Bill and Hillary: The Marriage. New York: William Morrow. Bernstein, C. 2008. A Woman in Charge: The Life of Hillary Rodham Clinton. New York: Vintage. Brock, D. 1996. The Seduction of Hillary Rodham. New York: Free Press. Burrell, B. 2001. Public Opinion, the First Ladyship, and Hillary Rodham Clinton. New York: Routledge. Clinton, W. J. 2005. My Life. New York: Vintage. Clinton, H. R. 1996. It Takes a Village. New York: Simon & Schuster. Clinton, H. R. 2003. Living History. New York: Simon & Schuster. Clinton, H. R. 2014. Hard Choices. New York: Simon & Schuster. Estrich, S. 2005. The Case for Hillary Clinton. New York: HarperCollins. Flinn, S. K. 2005. Speaking of Hillary: A Reader’s Guide to the Most Controversial Woman in America. Ashland, OR: White Cloud Press. Gerth, J., and D. Van Natta, Jr. 2007. Her Way: The Hopes and Ambitions of Hillary Rodham Clinton. New York: Little, Brown. Gould, L. L. 1996. American First Ladies: Their Lives and Legacy. New York: Garland. Kelley, C. E. 2001. The Rhetoric of First Lady Hillary Rodham Clinton: Crisis Management Discourse. Westport, CT: Praeger. Klein, Edward. 2005. The Truth about Hillary (Clinton): What She Knew, When She Knew It, and How Far She’ll Go to Become President. New York, NY: Sentinel. Mattina, A. F. 2004. “Hillary Rodham Clinton: Using Her Vital Voice.” In Inventing a Voice: The Rhetoric of American First Ladies of the

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Twentieth Century, edited by M. M. Wertheimer, 417–433. Lanham, MD: Rowman and Littlefield. Morris, R. 1996. Partners in Power. New York: Henry Holt. Mueller, J. E. 2008. Tag Teaming the Press. Lanham, MD: Rowman and Littlefield. Muir, J. K., and A. Taylor. 2009a. “The Clinton Political Team: Marriage, Gender, and the Presidential Quest.” In Cracked but Not Shattered: Hillary Rodham Clinton’s Unsuccessful Campaign for the Presidency, edited by T. F. Sheckels, 69–98. Lanham, MD: Lexington/Rowman and Littlefield. Muir, J. K., and A. Taylor. 2009b. “Navigating Gender Complexities: Hillary and Bill Clinton as a Political Team.” In Gender and Political Communication in America: Rhetoric, Representation, and Display, edited by J. L. Edwards, 1–21. Lanham, MD: Lexington/ Rowman and Littlefield. Noonan, P. 2000. The Case Against Hillary Clinton. New York: HarperCollins. Radcliffe, D. 1993. Hillary Rodham Clinton: A First Lady for Our Time. New York: Warner Books. Rodham, H. D. 1969. “Hillary D. Rodham’s 1969 Student Commencement Speech.”

Wellesley College, May 31. http://www. wellesley.edu/events/commencement/ archives/1969commencement/studentspeech (accessed November 12, 2015). Troy, G. 2006. Hillary Rodham Clinton: Polarizing First Lady. Lawrenceville: University of Kansas Press. White House. n.d. “William J. Clinton.” https:// www.whitehouse.gov/1600/­p residents/­ williamjclinton (accessed December 5, 2015). Woodward, B. 1994. The Agenda: Inside the Clinton White House. New York: Simon and Schuster.

Further Reading Muir, J. K., and L. M. Benitez. 1996. “Redefining the Role of the First Lady: The Rhetorical Style of Hillary Rodham Clinton.” In The Clinton Presidency: Images, Issues and Communication Strategies, edited by R. E. Denton, Jr. and R. L. Holloway, 139–158. Westport, CT: Praeger. White House. n.d. “Hillary Rodham Clinton.” https://www.whitehouse.gov/1600/first‐ ladies/hillaryclinton (accessed November 12, 2015).

Chapter Thirty Eight

Laura Welch Bush: Strength and Serenity in Turbulent Times Anita McBride

Author’s Note I met Laura Bush in November 1994, shortly after her husband was elected governor of Texas. I remember how excited she was about the opportunity to serve as first lady of her state, but I was also struck by how calm and relaxed she seemed. Little did I  know then that just over a decade later I would share another part of her journey through history when she became first lady of the United States. In November 2004 Laura Bush asked me to be her chief of staff during her hus­ band’s second term. I had already served under three presidential administrations— those of Ronald Reagan, George H. W. Bush, and George W. Bush. I was familiar with the role that a first lady’s office played in an administration and, in contrast to working for the president in the West Wing, I envisioned an East Wing position as offering a more controlled schedule and a less intense milieu. But I also knew that Laura Bush was actively engaged in issues such as education reform and historical preservation; that she had launched the annual National Book Festival in 2001; and that she had used her platform to

speak out for the rights of Afghan women and children. It would be the best of both worlds to be able to spend time in the most beautiful part of the White House taking care of the symbolic and ceremonial aspects of the position, while also working on important policy initiatives. When I interviewed Mrs. Bush, I was surprised by her first words to me: “I want to go to Afghanistan.” Walking in to meet her that day, I could not have imagined that we would travel together to 67 coun­ tries in four years, accompanied by Cabinet members and leading journalists who vied for space on her plane, or that we would be sitting down with former gang leaders in Los Angeles, meeting with AIDS orphans in Africa, and visiting democratic activists around the world fighting for their rights. The experience of working for First Lady Laura Bush during a pivotal period in US history and of witnessing first­ hand both the demands and the ­possibilities of this unique position contributed directly to my forming the Legacies of America’s First Ladies Initiative at American University in Washington, DC, where we examine the historical influence of all our US first ladies on politics, policy, and

A Companion to First Ladies, First Edition. Edited by Katherine A. S. Sibley. © 2016 John Wiley & Sons, Inc. Published 2016 by John Wiley & Sons, Inc.

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diplomacy. Writing this chapter on Laura Bush gave me an opportunity to reflect specifically on her impact during a conse­ quential time and to encourage further exploration and greater understanding of her contributions. Introduction The role of US first lady is a misunderstood position in public life. With no “official” or statutory authority, each woman writes her own job description and deploys her influence in a way that is unique to her. As the daughter‐in‐law of a former US president and first lady, Laura Bush stepped into her role with a unique perspective on what the position would entail and with some specific idea of what she wanted to accomplish. She was quiet but effective, pursuing her aims in ways that seemed in tune with what the American public found to be acceptable for the president’s spouse. As she traveled the country advocating for her husband’s primary domestic initiative of  educational reform, No Child Left Behind—a policy that was then widely welcomed, in contrast to the attacks it would draw later—and launched her own signature project, the National Book Festival, it was easy for observers to stereotype Laura Bush, particularly in the beginning of the administration. She was typecast as a “traditional” woman who had spent her adult life caring for children as a mother, teacher, and librarian and who chose strictly “noncontroversial causes” to work on— causes like education and literacy (Sulfaro, 2007: 689). One commentator wrote that, “Before Sept. 11, she was headed for per­ haps the quietest First Ladyship since Bess Truman” (Marton, 2001). September 11, 2001 changed Mrs. Bush’s life just as it changed the life of the nation and that of the world. Like other first ladies who served during times of national crisis, Laura Bush offered compassion and

reassurance to a grieving and traumatized nation. Responding to public anxiety and to her own sense of the moment, she became more visible after the attacks. She expanded her platform during her husband’s second term and grew increasingly outspoken about world affairs. Not all observers detected or appreciated this shift. In The Politics of the President’s Wife, a book that offers a systematic analysis of the  modern first lady, MaryAnne Borrelli characterized Laura Bush, in a condescending fashion, as a “satellite wife,” which she defined as a woman who “reflects and magnifies the attributes of her husband, setting herself aside on his behalf” (Borrelli, 2011: 136). Even though Borrelli acknowledged Laura Bush’s solo travel to the Middle East, Africa, and Asia on education and health diplomacy missions and human rights and women’s empowerment initiatives, she still cast her as a first lady whose “self‐regulating in the public sphere” was a way of “[endorsing] the gender ideology of the Republican base” (2011: 137). Such an evaluation overlooks Laura Bush’s role as an effective political envoy, as well as that of a diplomatic surrogate who traveled to more than 75 countries in eight years and was praised by former National Security Adviser Stephen Hadley as “a foreign policy asset to the president” (Stolberg, 2007). Laura Bush succeeded in drawing attention to, and advancing, causes that were important to her and to the administration. Many of the initiatives she championed in the arenas of education, women’s empowerment, health, at‐risk youth, and cultural and natural preservation are still underway. Biographer Ann Gerhart described Laura Bush as one of the few people in Washington who were reluctant to take credit for their accomplish­ ments (First Ladies Influence & Image, 2014). Unfortunately, the modest and quiet way in which she actively engaged in issues and led initiatives caused some commentators to dismiss her. It was, however, this discreet, low‐key manner that allowed her to focus



laura welch bush: strength and serenity in turbulent times

on her work without getting diverted or putting time and energy (her own and the White House’s) into responding to critics. While the American public’s support for her husband waned over time, Laura Bush remained popular. Detractors such as feminist author Naomi Wolf may have found her calm demeanor to be “Xanax‐like” (Wolf, 2004) and her adaptability and discipline to be the marks of a woman who lacked a will of her own, but the American public con­ sistently gave Laura Bush high marks for the way she “hand[led] her job” (Jones, 2006). Her approval ratings were among the most positive ones that Gallup ever recorded for a  first lady (Jones, 2006): she had a 73 percent average favorability rating over the course of two terms (Jones, 2009). This popularity translated into real political capital at election time—not just for her husband but for other republican candidates as well, particularly those in moderate congressional districts, where her husband was less welcome. Her campaign appearances raised approximately $15 million for Republican candidates in 2004 (Benedetto, 2006). (Her two immediate predecessors, Barbara Bush and Hillary Clinton, were also effective fundraisers, Barbara Bush being the first presidential spouse to advocate on behalf of party candidates other than her husband: see Miller Center, 2014.) A Winding Road to the White House Laura Bush’s personal and political back­ ground arguably made her as suited to the role as any first lady in US history. As the daughter‐in‐law of former First Lady Barbara Bush, she was familiar with the institution and the protocol of the White House, and even knew members of the White House residence staff by name. As  first lady of Texas, she successfully launched a number of programs and initia­ tives and had a reputation for bipartisanship.

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She was well versed in politics, having served for years as a “political apprentice” in the Bush “family business” (Wertheimer, 2009: 695) and campaigning at the state and the national level on behalf of her husband and father‐in‐law. She recognized that minefields inevitably lay ahead, from public critiques of her hair and wardrobe to “trick” questions from the media. But, well equipped as she was for the many political and ceremo­ nial aspects of her role, when it came to events beyond the reach of protocol and without precedent—like the attacks of September 11, 2001, Hurricane Katrina in August 2005, or the human rights crises in Burma and Afghanistan—a closer look at her life history and character can provide some insight into the inner reserves from which she drew in order to respond. In her 2010 memoir titled Spoken from the Heart, Laura Bush evokes a childhood marked by loss and resilience. The first scene of her book recalls an early childhood memory of looking through the glass of a hospital nursery at a newborn brother who would die only a few days later (Bush, 2010: 6). She wrote of growing up as a cherished only child, who nevertheless longed for brothers and sisters and sensed her parents’ unspoken grief over the loss of three premature babies who each lived only a few days: But even back when nothing was said, I knew how much both my parents wanted those other children. I wanted them too. I  remember as a small girl looking up at the darkening night sky, waiting for the stars to pop out one by one. I would watch for that first star, for its faint glow, because then I could make my wish. And my wish on a star any time that I wished on a star was that I would have brothers and sisters (Bush, 2010: 6)

Born on November 4, 1946 to Jenna and Harold Welch, Laura Lane Welch missed the companionship of siblings but learned to sustain herself by developing a rich inner life, fed by avid reading, and by throwing

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herself into her schoolwork from an early age on. The need to entertain herself was not just the result of her family situation; it  was a vital skill for anyone living in Midland, the West Texas prairie town in which she grew up in the 1950s and 1960s. In the words of biographer Ann Gerhart (2004: 20), “Midlanders have to make their own fun and tend to their own troubles, be it the drought that kills the cattle or the well that runs dry or the entire economy that sputters to a halt.” Her parents moved to Midland from El Paso when Harold was offered a job as district manager in a credit company. He eventually found success building homes for the new residents who were rapidly descending upon the oil‐boom town. Also growing up in Midland at the time was George W. Bush, although the two did not meet until they were both adults (Bush, 2010: 69). Midland was a town where East Coast oil speculators such as Laura’s future father‐in‐law were expected to mix with cowboys and with the laborers in the oil fields, and where children of rich and poor families all attended the same public schools (Bush, 2010: 62). This egalitarian spirit did not, however, extend to Midland’s black residents, who made up about 10 percent of the population and attended segregated schools (Gerhart, 2004: 68). Although she was aware of this inequality and would later write that she found it “both absurd and wrong” that her high school should have been named after Robert E. Lee in 1960 (Bush, 2010: 64), this, like the loss of her young siblings, was not something that was discussed in Laura’s home town. In her memoir she wrote that, because she started school at the age of five, she felt “immature” as a young child, “constantly trying to catch up and never quite suc­ ceeding.” At recess, she would stand off to  the side, leaning against her teacher (Bush, 2010: 69). Laura eventually devel­ oped a circle of friends with whom she would remain close throughout her life.

By the seventh grade, she was going out with boys on dates where the couple would be sitting in the back seat as the boy’s father drove (Bush, 2010: 69). It would not be long before she and her friends began driving themselves. Her mother took her for practice drives in the Midland cemetery, because its roads were relatively free of traffic. She wrote about these outings in her memoir: I learned to accelerate, brake, and turn among the somber rows of crosses and polished headstones, where the paths were peaceful and the speeds slow, never once knowing what this place and a single auto­ mobile could mean for my future. (Bush, 2010: 61)

Only a few years later, two days after her seventeenth birthday, she was involved in a fatal car accident. On the night of November 6, 1963, Laura Bush was driving down a dark country road, with her friend Judy Dykes in the passenger seat (Bush, 2010: 69). She failed to notice a stop sign and struck the car in the intersection while driving just below the speed limit of 55 miles per hour (Kessler, 2006: 42). The impact of the crash threw her from the car, and she was hurt badly enough to be taken to the emergency room. While waiting to have her injured knee stitched, she learned from her parents that the other driver was her close friend, Mike Douglas, and that he had been killed. The car accident was the second fatality of the year at that same intersection (Gerhart, 2004: 6) and Laura was not charged with any crime, nor was she issued a driving ticket (Gould, 2001: 640). Her passenger Judy Dykes would later explain that “the intersection had no lighting and was extremely dark. There was nothing to let us know that [a car] was coming” (Kessler, 2006: 41). Authorities found no evidence of drinking or excessive speed (Gerhart, 2004: 6). After this fatal crash the city posted warnings and a bigger stop sign,



laura welch bush: strength and serenity in turbulent times

and several years later they added a traffic light at the intersection(Kessler, 2006: 43). Laura Bush avoided talking about the accident for many years, until it surfaced pub­ licly during the 2000 presidential campaign (Bush, 2010: 63). In an article published in May 2001, Oprah Winfrey interviewed the new first lady and asked her to talk about the accident. She told Winfrey it was a “shock” and a “comeuppance;” a reminder of the “preciousness of life and how fleeting it can be.” She also acknowledged that it was a “horrible, horrible tragedy,” particu­ larly since Mike was so young, and that it felt terrible to have been responsible for the accident. “But,” she added, “at some point I had to accept that death is a part of life, and as tragic as losing Mike was, there was nothing anyone could do about it” (Winfrey, 2001). Her account of the accident and of its aftermath in Spoken from the Heart was far more detailed and revealing. She openly stated that she lost her religious faith “for many, many years,” because she had fervently prayed that the other driver would survive and yet her prayer “had made no difference” (Bush, 2010: 63). One of her deepest regrets, she said, is never to have visited the Douglas family. At the time she assumed they would not want to see her and probably wished she would “vanish.” Once she had her own children, however, she realized what a difference “a simple visit” to the family might have made (Bush, 2010: 64). There was no grief counseling for her and her classmates following the crash (Bush, 2010: 65), nor were there any such resources available when, just a few weeks later, John F. Kennedy was assassinated in Dallas. Years afterward, one of the first actions Laura Bush took after September 11, 2001 was to invite a Methodist minister, Kathleene Card (wife of then White House Chief of Staff Andrew Card) to come and speak to her traumatized staff (Bush, 2010: 606). She also composed letters to the nation’s schoolchildren.

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Less than a year after the auto accident, Laura would leave home for college at the Southern Methodist University in Dallas, where she graduated with a bachelor’s degree (Gould, 2001) in elementary educa­ tion. Her first job was teaching third graders at Longfellow Elementary School in Dallas. She found it quite demanding to be the sole adult working to hold the attention of a  room full of young children all day long (Bush, 2010: 64). At the end of that school year, having now spent five years in Dallas, she was “twenty‐two and restless” (Bush, 2010: 64). In July 1969 she and a college friend moved east, first to Boston, where they did not know a “single person to call or where to look for an apartment” (Bush, 2010: 64). After three days they drove south to Washington, DC, and rented a room at the Young Women’s Christian Association (YWCA). Laura Bush went to Capitol Hill and interviewed for a job with her repre­ sentative, Congressman George Mahon. He reviewed her résumé and asked whether she knew how to type or take shorthand, to which she replied that she did not. When Mahon asked whether she would consider secretarial school, she “thought about what [her] father already spent to send [her] to SMU and said no again.” Mahon suggested that, without being able to do either, she “wasn’t really qualified for a position in his office” (Bush, 2010: 65). At the end of the summer she returned to Texas—this time to Houston—and the class­ room. Laura Bush later told an interviewer that as a young teacher she “particularly wanted to teach in a minority school” (quoted in Caroli, 2010: 681). In the middle of the 1969–1970 school year she was hired to teach at John F. Kennedy Elementary, a school with a predominantly impoverished African American student body (Bush, 2010: 66). According to first lady historian Betty Caroli, Laura Bush “credited those two years to opening her eyes to a part of life she  had not previously seen in segregated

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Midland,” and after being “shocked” by her exposure to “barriers she had not previously seen or noticed,” she decided to become a librarian in order to promote “literacy and books as a way to improve students’ lives” (Caroli, 2010: 381). After graduating from the University of Texas at Austin in 1972 with a master’s degree in library science, she returned to Houston to work in a public library. Although she had envisioned a position at a large downtown library, where she might meet more of her peers and possibly even an eligible man (Bush, 2010: 62), she was offered a job at a small branch in a low‐ income area where, once again, she found herself helping children learn to read. She also spent time, “when the library was quiet,” reading “stacks of literary classics” and “every book in the library with advice about how to quit smoking,” which she eventually did (Allen, 2010). One of her colleagues at the library invited her to join a  “women’s consciousness raising group,” where she read works by feminist writers Germaine Greer and Betty Friedan and the  second‐wave feminist classic anthology Sisterhood Is Powerful (Bush, 2010: 62). Although in her memoir she did not elabo­ rate upon what effect these readings may have had on her, there is evidence that fem­ inist beliefs were not new to her when she joined the book group. She wrote that her decision, taken in high school, not to learn to type—which cost her that summer job in Washington—was due to “a burst of intel­ lectual snobbery and a bit of feminism” (Bush, 2010: 61). In 2006, long after it had  become fashionable for young women to refuse to use the term, she referred to herself as a “feminist” in an interview with George Stephanopoulos (ABC News, 2006). Missing Austin and the Texas Hill Country as well as work in a school, she eventually returned to take a job as a school librarian at Molly Dawson Elementary School (Bush, 2010: 62), where former

colleagues recalled her as being actively involved in teaching children reading com­ prehension skills (Gerhart, 2004: 63). As first lady, Laura Bush would refer to her time as a school librarian in a briefing she gave before the Senate Education Committee in 2002, saying that it had exposed her to patterns that she had not encountered before—for example, teachers who “held lower expectations” for children who had trouble reading, “even though many were very bright and quite adept at other skills” (White House, 2002). According to Gerhart (2004: 43), it was this vantage point that helped crystallize her views about literacy being “the new civil right.” Although Laura was developing a sense of purpose and an awareness of social issues during this period, she had little interest in  electoral politics other than as a voter (like most Texans at the time, she voted democratic). So, when friends offered to introduce her to a former congressman’s son named George W. Bush, she turned them down, explaining later: “I thought he was someone real political, which I was not” (Gerhart, 2004: 67). When the two eventually did meet at a barbeque hosted by mutual friends, they hit it off immediately and carried on a long‐distance whirlwind courtship. Less than seven weeks after meeting they became engaged, and Laura gave her two weeks’ notice at school. Within three months of that backyard barbecue, on November 5, 1977, the two were married (Bush, 2010: 65). Before meeting Laura, George Bush had already begun planning a run for Congress, and almost immediately after their wedding the couple hit the campaign trail. Although George lost that bid, Laura found that she enjoyed campaigning. She learned that “politics is really about people” (Bush, 2010: 601) and came to admire her husband’s grasp of both the personal and the strategic sides of politics. This campaign was also the  occasion for her first political speech.



laura welch bush: strength and serenity in turbulent times

Later she recalled that she had come equipped with some good lines, as she thought, but then quickly ran out of material and “had to mumble and sit down” (quoted in Wertheimer, 2005: 639). It was several years before she would be called on to give another speech. In the meantime, she gave birth to twins Jenna and Barbara in November 1981, after enduring a struggle with infertility and then toxemia (Bush, 1999: 67). The couple returned to politics in 1987, when the family briefly moved to Washington so George could help manage his father’s 1988 presidential campaign. During this period Laura spent time with the Bushes at  the vice president’s residence and saw firsthand what it was like to live in the public eye. Just a few years later, George W. Bush became a candidate again, when he ran successfully for the governorship of Texas in 1994. During that campaign Laura Bush proved to be a valuable asset, speaking on her own before women’s groups around Dallas and campaigning around the state with her husband and her mother‐in‐law. As first lady of Texas, Laura Bush was popular among both Republicans and Democrats. Liz Carpenter, former press secretary to Lady Bird Johnson, commented that her personality and her accomplish­ ments made Mrs. Bush “beloved and appre­ ciated” around the state (Wertheimer, 2005: 642). As Texas’s first lady, she used her position to advance issues such as breast cancer awareness and to raise bipartisan support for the arts and for libraries. She also worked with legislators and policy experts to launch programs aimed at improving early childhood education and literacy. Paul Sadler, a democratic state legislator who worked on an education reform measure with Mrs. Bush, told Gerhart that her advocacy efforts included lobbying key Democrats. According to Sadler, she “was very much at the fore­ front,” and legislators “simply knew it was Laura Bush’s bill” (Gerhart, 2004: 603).

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One of the highlights of her tenure was founding the Texas Book Festival, which raised nearly $1,000,000 for Texas libraries between 1996 and 2000. It became the model for the Library of Congress National Book Festival, which she brought to Washington as US first lady (Wertheimer, 2005: 641–242). Laura Bush’s first real step into the national political arena came during the 2000 campaign and culminated in her prime‐time speech before the Republican National Convention in Philadelphia on July 31, 2000. By then, it was no longer unusual for candidates’ wives to give con­ vention speeches: Eleanor Roosevelt had been the first in 1940, when she assisted her husband in a “call for party unity” (National First Ladies Library, 2014a). Pat Nixon introduced her husband in 1972 and other spouses did so intermittently, until the practice became de rigueur after 1992, when both Hillary Clinton and Barbara Bush gave convention speeches (National First Ladies Library, 2014b). Standing on a stage designed to look like a classroom, complete with children sitting at school desks, Laura Bush lauded her husband’s record as governor and how he built bipar­ tisan consensus to achieve goals related to education. She promised that he would bolster teacher‐training programs and would strengthen the reading components of the Head Start program (Republican National Committee, 2000). Following the speech, Cable News Network (CNN) senior political analyst Jeff Greenfield called it “a modest speech, a speech by a person not a skilled political speaker … (in) sharp contrast to Hillary [Clinton]’s speech in 1996, which was explicitly political.” In the end, Greenfield found it a “heck of a debut on the national stage” (Cable News Network, 2000). According to Caroli, Laura Bush “impressed millions of Americans with her down‐to‐earth comments about teaching and her enthusiastic support for her husband’s candidacy” and seemed “the obvious choice

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to keynote the convention” (Caroli, 2010: 382–383). Even unsparing Washington Post television critic Tom Shales called the speech “first‐rate” (Shales, 2000). Although she enjoyed campaigning, Laura Bush admitted that the process was grueling and compared it to “running a marathon, day after day” (Bush, 2010: 653). She traveled frequently with her husband, but also made solo swings (Bush, 2010: 656) and left the campaign trail only to move the twins into their college dorms (Bush, 2010: 658). Reporter John Hanchette noted that on the campaign trail Mrs. Bush was “no pushover,” especially when prodded to share her own views on controversial policy matters: Does she support her husband’s position on the death penalty, a reporter asked? The  question was an obvious trap. Laura Bush glared, then smiled. “If I differ with my husband,” she snapped, “I’m not going to tell you about it—sorry.” (Hanchette, 2000)

This kind of response—definitive in tone while noncommittal in content—became a trademark of Mrs. Bush. She also seemed to draw a distinction between “issues” and “policy” when talking to reporters, respond­ ing to one “a bit tartly”: “I’m not George’s adviser … I’m his wife. I don’t advise him about policy, but we do talk issues—and personalities” (quoted in Brant, 2000: 60). Yet she was also quoted during the cam­ paign as saying that she planned to be “very active on issues I know a lot about,” such as education and literacy, adding: “Education is dear to both of our hearts” (Hanchette, 2000). One rare instance in which she chose to offer her own opinion and appeared to contradict her party’s platform occurred right before the inauguration, during a Today Show interview. When asked about her stance on a woman’s legal right to an abortion, she initially replied that she agreed with her husband that the country should

“reduce the number of abortions” by doing things like “talking about responsibility, by talking about abstinence.” When asked a follow‐up question on Roe v. Wade (1973), she said: “No, I don’t think it should be overturned” (Bush, 2001). Frank Bruni of  the New York Times characterized the statement as going “well beyond anything she said during her husband’s presidential campaign” (Bruni, 2001). Even after the inauguration, reporters could not resist asking Laura Bush whether she planned to be “more like Barbara Bush or Hillary Clinton,” which was another way of asking whether she planned to weigh in on policy matters. Although understandable— it would certainly be a “scoop” to catch a first lady or a candidate’s wife contradicting her husband, or even expounding on policy matters in too much detail—it is nevertheless worth examining why this is considered controversial and newsworthy in the first place. One possible explanation is the ambivalence Americans feel about the person who presumably engages in “pillow talk” with the president. When Bill Clinton touted the “two for one” bargain that Americans would get if they voted for the democratic ticket in 1992, he was referring to his wife and not his running mate. While this kind of influence continues to raise questions, the image of a presidential mar­ riage that First Lady Mamie Eisenhower projected when she said “Ike runs the country, I turn the pork chops” is not one that most Americans can identify with today. Laura Bush negotiated this potentially thorny matter in several ways. First, by making a distinction between “advising” her husband and “talking issues,” she could satisfy voters who wanted a first lady who could think for herself while at the same time she offered reassurances that she did not tell her husband what to do. Second, she gave slightly different answers to the “policy” question, depending on the situation. In 2000, for example, it may have been smart campaign strategy to subtly distinguish herself



laura welch bush: strength and serenity in turbulent times

from a predecessor who had been criticized as overly involved in the details of govern­ ing. Later, however, she would not only dis­ cuss her policy role more openly, but also express frustration at having previously been “stereotyped” as perhaps unqualified for such a role. In an interview with Chris Wallace in October 2007 the first lady noted: Well, the fact is I’ve been involved for a long time in policy and I think I just didn’t get a lot coverage on it. … I was stereo­ typed as being a certain way because I was a librarian and a teacher and had the careers that were considered traditional women’s careers. (Fox News, 2007)

In a 2009 column, Cokie and Steve Roberts described Laura Bush as having been “deeply involved in policy” (Roberts and Roberts, 2009). They credited the first lady with con­ vincing the president, over the objections of the vice president, to protect “vast areas of the Pacific Ocean as national monuments,” and also with persuading him to use his 2007 address to the UN General Assembly to denounce the military regime in Burma (Roberts and Roberts, 2009). Laura Bush had a more sophisticated grasp of policy than observers assumed and than she sometimes let on, and she was also adept at navigating the treacherous waters of political journalism. Throughout her time in politics, she did not put forward views that might be seen as undermining her husband. In the Wallace interview, for example, she navigated a question about Iraq by emphasizing instead her husband’s other international policies, including the President’s Emergency Plan for AIDS Relief (PEPFAR) and the President’s Malaria Initiative (Fox News, 2007). Her stock response to the “Will you be more like Hillary Clinton or Barbara Bush?” question was, “I think I’ll just be Laura Bush” (Sciolino, 2001). This polite—yet firm—way of shutting down attempts to pigeonhole

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her left her free to pursue her priorities single‐ mindedly, without having to devote resources to “damage control.” First Lady Reexamined In 2000, one of the closest presidential elections in history meant that it would be thirty‐five days before she would become first lady designate and her husband president elect. During the suspenseful recount period, Laura Bush divided her time between the governor’s residence and the ranch, where she and her family remained both “detached and consumed, almost as one is with an ICU patient” (Bush, 2010: 662). On December 12, 2000, the night after the 5‐to‐4‐vote of the Supreme Court that decided the election, she still took time  to attend a wrap‐up meeting for the Texas Book Festival. One participant described this as an act of “fundamental courtesy” to all the volunteers, which “sent a signal that [the festival] was just as important as anything going on with the election” (Gerhart, 2004: 607). Americans have come to expect that the first lady will take on a “project,” and during the first few months after the inauguration Mrs. Bush made education her signature issue. In July 2001 she led a major conference at Georgetown University on early childhood education. Noting her focus on children and the return of the office of the first lady to the East Wing after Hillary Clinton’s decision to have space set aside for herself in  the West Wing, some commentators anticipated that Mrs. Bush would be a “throwback” to presidential spouses of the past. Historian Gil Troy predicted that, “of all the first ladies,” the one Laura Bush would most resemble in the minds of Americans would be Mamie Eisenhower, with a “traditional, reassuring feminine presence” (Sciolino, 2001). Contributing to this impression was the fact that, during the first few months of her

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husband’s presidency, Laura Bush was less visible than she had been during the campaign. This was not only because she was working behind the scenes planning a national book festival for the fall, but also because the work that she was doing in Washington and elsewhere was, for the most part, given only token coverage in the media. One Washington reporter wrote: After eight years of a high‐profile first lady who routinely grabbed her share of head­ lines and tried to overhaul the nation’s health‐care system, former schoolteacher Laura Welch Bush has adopted the low‐ controversy issue of education as her cause and appears to be quite content staying out of the presidential limelight. (Gambrell, 2001)

Ignoring her education policy work in Texas and referring to Laura Bush as simply a “former schoolteacher” with a “low‐ controversy” issue was emblematic of the way the press has dealt with many first ladies,  through coverage often framed in positive, yet somewhat trivializing terms. For example, Rosalynn Carter expressed dismay at the lack of press attention to her  advocacy on behalf of mental health policy. She said, “they covered my mental health work my first few meetings I had, and then they never showed up anymore” (Delreal, 2013). In characterizing the tenor and focus of first lady coverage during the Ford administration, Betty Ford’s press secretary, Sheila Rabb Weidenfeld, said, “I was sure that, if the White House burned down, the first question I would get would  be, ‘What was she wearing?’” (National Press Club/Smithsonian Institution Museum of American History, 1993). Maurine Beasley (2005) has suggested that, consistently, “first ladies were … given a dismissive deference that kept them from being looked at too carefully except when they appeared to be treading directly on their husbands’ territories.” She attributed this to “conventional news values of conflict

and controversy,” which almost “by definition [exclude] the activities of many women— including first ladies, who seemed to be expected to adopt noncontroversial ‘good works’ that [do] not meet the criteria for important news” (Beasley, 2005: xvii). Laura Bush herself alluded to this in a comment about Lady Bird Johnson, saying: “The American people look back and think, ‘Oh, she did flowers.’ But she was really radical for the time. She said we should use  native plants that require less water. She really started the modern environmental movement” (Burka, 2001). In her May 2001 interview with Laura Bush, Oprah Winfrey said of the new first lady: “Americans still aren’t quite sure who she is” (Winfrey, 2001). Perhaps by way of acknowledging this early impression, Mrs. Bush would write in her memoir that the September 7, 2001 Library of Congress gala the night before the first National Book Festival felt like her “official debut” as first lady. “Not quite nine months after George took office,” she observed, “I was now doing what I loved, finding my place in the world of Washington and beyond” (Bush, 2010: 694). Just a few days later, on September 11, Mrs. Bush was en route to Capitol Hill to brief the Senate Education Committee on the findings from her July conference on early childhood education, when she learned that a plane had struck the North Tower of the World Trade Center. By the time she arrived on the Hill, a plane had struck the South Tower too, leaving no doubt that this was an attack. Her briefing was postponed, and at an impromptu press conference she offered words of comfort to the victims and to rescue workers in New York. As she turned to exit she was asked by a USA Today reporter to offer a message to the children of the nation and replied, “parents need to reassure their children everywhere in our country that they’re safe” (Bush, 2010: 699). Minutes later, she and everyone else in the Capitol Hill complex would be evacu­ ated after a third plane struck the Pentagon.



laura welch bush: strength and serenity in turbulent times

Following the terrorist attacks, Mrs. Bush was seen as embodying her role in a new way. Hers was one of the first official voices Americans would hear during the next few days, as she appeared on the morning tele­ vision shows while people were beginning to absorb the news of the tragedy. Media accounts in the subsequent months would refer to her variously as the “comforter in chief,” the “caretaker in chief,” and even the “therapist in chief ’ (Ma, 2002: 64), as  she traveled the country attending memorial services, meeting with families of ­victims, visiting schools to provide reas­ surance, and recording public service announcements that provided guidance for parents. Laura Bush helped to fill a need in the  national psyche for a unifying, non­ political figurehead during a time of national emergency. In September 2001, presidential historian Michael Beschloss noted that the dual presidential roles of political manager and head of state who must “raise morale” and unite the country “often collide,” and he praised Laura Bush for effectively step­ ping in that month to perform some of the functions of the latter: “She acts as a chief of state, as the queen did in World War II in London,” he added (Kuczynski, 2001). In this instance, Laura Bush was perfor­ ming a function that other first ladies had engaged in before her. As Caroli (2010) observed, from the earliest days of the republic, “[m]embers of the presi­ dent’s household made excellent surrogates” for performing “head of state” functions. Some first ladies have also grasped the psychological benefits of having a rela­ tively nonpolitical representative of the government serve as a focal point for ­patriotism and national unity. Catherine Allgor (2013) posited that part of Dolley Madison’s success as first lady was due to the way she used her gender, which in the  early nineteenth century made her by  definition more apolitical than her ­husband. During the War of 1812 Dolley

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appeared to the public as “a larger‐than‐ life embodiment of disinterested patrio­ tism and nation,” as she “reviewed and entertained passing troops, who saluted her rather than her husband” (Allgor, 2013: 688). On November 17, 2001 Mrs. Bush took to the airwaves to deliver a weekly presidential radio address on the plight of women and children under the Taliban. This marked the first time a US first lady delivered a solo presidential weekly radio address. In her introductory remarks, she said that the address was meant to “kick off a world‐wide effort to focus on the brutality against women and children by the al‐Qaida terrorist network and the regime it supports in Afghanistan, the Taliban.” She declared that the oppression of women was not based on Muslim teachings, and that “only the ter­ rorists and the Taliban forbid education to women” and carry out violent repressions such as threatening to “pull out women’s fingernails for wearing nail polish” (White House, 2001). It was a major statement on women, delivered by a first lady who used a platform until then reserved for the president. The address attracted the favorable attention of Eleanor Smeal, president of the Feminist Majority, who found the position Mrs. Bush articulated “very strong” (Bumiller, 2001). Feminist Gloria Steinem said that she too was “glad to hear from Mrs. Bush” (quoted in Wertheimer, 2005: 653), but she told one reporter that she felt the speech was intended to influence domestic politics. Steinem remarked: “I can’t think of any motive other than the gender gap” (Bumiller, 2001). For Laura Bush, the speech marked a turning point in her appreciation of the impact she could have as US first lady. “People would pay attention to what I said,” she wrote. “I had always known that intel­ lectually, but now I realized it emotionally” (Bush, 2010: 638). In January 2002, Mrs. Bush finally returned to the Senate for the briefing that had been postponed due to 9/11. One of the new

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members of the Senate Education Committee was a junior senator from New York: Hillary Rodham Clinton. Senator Clinton had words of praise for Mrs. Bush’s briefing, and after­ ward the two posed together for photogra­ phers (Gerhart 2002: C01). For the most part, Mrs. Bush avoided wading into controversy and was adept at deflecting questions about social “wedge” issues such as abortion and capital punish­ ment. Occasionally, however, controversy found her, as in the case of a planned literary symposium on the works of poets Emily Dickinson, Langston Hughes, and Walt Whitman in 2003. Since the beginning of the administration, Laura Bush had spon­ sored literary events at the White House. The subject of the first symposium in November 2001 was Mark Twain; in March 2002, a second symposium celebrated authors of the Harlem Renaissance, and a third one  in September 2002 discussed women authors of the American West. A fourth symposium, dedicated to American poets, was to take place on February 11, 2003, during the tense period leading up to the Iraq War. One of the poets invited to par­ ticipate, Sam Hamill, declined, and instead sent out an email to fifty fellow poets that read: “When I picked up my mail and saw the letter marked ‘The White House,’ I felt no joy. Rather, I was overcome by a kind of nausea” (Cusac, 2003). He asked fellow recipients to contribute antiwar poems for a  volume to be presented to the first lady during the event. By January 31, the email had drawn over three thousand responses and promises to contribute from prominent poets like Adrienne Rich and former US poet laureate Rita Dove. When she learned of the planned protest, Mrs. Bush held a meeting with her staff and decided to postpone the event “indefinitely” (Bancroft, 2003: 6D). Press Secretary Noelia Rodriguez told reporters: While Mrs. Bush respects and believes in the right of all Americans to express their

opinions, she, too, has opinions and believes that it would be inappropriate to turn what  is intended to be a literary event into a political forum. (Bumiller, 2003: 64)

Although Ann Gerhart found it “unfath­ omable” that a “close reader” like Laura Bush had not anticipated such a reaction by   the poets, the fact is that all three of her previous literary symposia had taken place while the United States was at war in Afghanistan and no protests had accompa­ nied those events. This war was different. “The pending war in Iraq opened up a chasm in American public opinion,” Gerhart wrote, and “Laura Bush failed to recognize the collision course that the war and poetry were on” (Gerhart, 2004: 685). Washington Post columnist Richard Cohen, however, compared the poets unfavorably with an earlier generation of literary protesters such as Robert Lowell, who opposed the Vietnam War and who, Cohen claimed, possessed a  stature and credibility that none of the current poets shared. Cohen expressed impatience with the antiwar poems, which he characterized as “yesterday’s wisdom about Vietnam misapplied to today’s chal­ lenge of Iraq” (Cohen, 2003). Despite this controversy and the first lady’s steadfast support for the increasingly unpopular war, her poll numbers remained high. In the period between July 18 and July 20, 2003, Laura Bush’s Gallup poll approval rating was 74 percent (Jones, 2006), by comparison with the president’s 59 percent (Jones, 2003). By the 2004 election season, in which the women’s vote was considered essential to winning, Laura Bush was at the forefront of the campaign, making solo stops in swing states that head­ lined “W Stands for Women” events and raising $5.5 million in campaign contribu­ tions between June 2003 and February 2004 (Parmley 2004: A08). Reporters noticed a more confident demeanor and an almost combative tone to



laura welch bush: strength and serenity in turbulent times

the first lady’s campaign appearances, as she accused opponents of distorting her husband’s record on stem cell research and  of “trying to scare America’s seniors about Social Security” (Allen, 2004: A05). The New York Times praised her conven­ tion speech and noted that, rather than deliver homey lines such as “My husband spends every night with a teacher,” as she had in 2000, this time she addressed domestic and foreign policy matters in a speech “packed with power references” to leaders such as Vaclav Havel and Tony Blair (Stanley 2004: P09). George W. Bush was ultimately reelected, claiming 51.02 percent of the popular vote against John Kerry’s 48.05 percent. Although Kerry won a larger share of the women’s vote in 2004, President Bush had eaten away at the democratic lead from the 2000 election. In 2004, Kerry won the women’s vote by only 3 percent, by comparison with Al Gore’s 11 percent margin in the 2000 election. Married women voted for Bush over Kerry by 11 percent (Trei, 2004). Scholar Ashli Quesinberry Stokes credited Laura Bush’s rhetorical skills with helping to “tip the election” and noted that “her immense popularity with voters earned her the nickname ‘Stealth Weapon’ among republican aides (Stokes, 2005: 168–169). The Second Term Early in 2005, Mrs. Bush and the present author began planning the trip to Afghanistan that the former had long been contemplating. Given the security risks the trip would pose for such a visible representative of the administration, the visit was timed to coincide with that of a delegation of the US–Afghan Women’s Council (USAWC), a public–private partnership established by President Bush in 2002. By dovetailing her trip with that of the USAWC and by utilizing assets already in place to support

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this trip, the first lady could enter the country as inconspicuously as possible (McBride, 2013). For several months, a small group of people, including the military and secret service personnel, planned a secret departure on March 30, 2005. One condition was that Mrs. Bush would leave Afghanistan before dark (McBride, 2013). Upon arriving at Bagram Air Base, the group flew by military helicopter to Kabul for a series of events and meetings, including a public ceremony designed to establish the  American University of Afghanistan. Mrs. Bush visited the Women’s Teacher Training Institute, which she helped found, and the single‐sex dormitories where the women—many from rural villages and unac­ customed to leaving their families—could live safely while getting their education. She also met with women who participated in a USAWC entrepreneurship project; she planted trees as part of a reforestation effort; and she held private meetings with President Karzai and his wife, obstetrician Dr. Zenat Karzai (McBride, 2013). Military commanders briefed her on the status of rebuilding efforts. One of the highlights of the trip was venturing outside the secure zones for a spontaneous visit to a Kabul bakery where she met with local Afghans. Laura Bush is the second first lady in history to travel to an active combat zone—second after Pat Nixon, who visited wounded troops in Long Binh, Vietnam in 1969 (Swift, 2014: 235) International Advocacy With the second term came a greater overall emphasis on international advocacy for Laura Bush. As she explained, this increased variety and intensity of her activities was determined in part by her evolving sense of the possibilities available to her. Referring to the US–Middle East Partnership for Breast Cancer Research and Awareness, which she launched in June 2006, she said: “it took me

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a while to realize what a platform I had, and that I could be the one to go to the Middle East and talk about breast cancer” (Fox News, 2007). This realization was further reflected in the high degree of coordination between the first lady’s office staff and their West Wing counterparts in areas of communication, policy, and global activities. Bradley Patterson (2008: 259) noted that this “vitally important arrangement” was “unique to the Bush White House.” Mrs. Bush’s public persona as a high‐ profile member of a conservative adminis­ tration and her diplomatic instincts helped her advance the needs of women in traditional cultures around the world. Tactfully, she chose to recognize progressive measures that the countries she visited were taking and encouraged them to continue to take steps to become more inclusive while acknowl­ edging that Americans did not always “get it right,” either (McBride, 2013). As she told Katie Couric in an interview during her visit to Egypt: When we look at our own history, we know, of course, that we have never done everything right. We started out with a perfect document, but we didn’t abolish slavery until almost a hundred years later. Women didn’t get the right to vote until less than a hundred years ago. … As we try to promote democracy and human rights and women’s rights around the world, we have to look at ourselves as well, and to make sure that we’re living what we’re saying. (Today Show, 2005)

Mrs. Bush used health diplomacy and dis­ cussions about education in promoting the administration’s foreign assistance priorities, including the largest international health initiative ever directed at a single disease: the President’s Emergency Plan for AIDS Relief (PEPFAR). She visited 12 of the 15 focus countries—most of them in Africa— that were recipients of the PEPFAR pro­ gram’s assistance in combatting HIV/AIDS.

She  was also a lead advocate for the President’s Malaria Initiative and African Education Initiative, and continued to emphasize global literacy as a critical factor in development. In addition, in October 2007, she traveled to the United Arab Emirates, Kuwait, Jordan, and Saudi Arabia to advocate for the US–Middle East Partner­ ship for Breast Cancer Awareness and Research, the initiative she launched in 2006 as a public–private partnership between the US government, the Susan G. Komen Breast Cancer Foundation, and the M. D. Anderson Cancer Center at the University of Texas (Bush, 2010: 695). One of the aims of the partnership was to help “break the silence” about the disease in countries where being diagnosed with breast cancer could mean social ostracism (Bush, 2010: 696). At various stops on the tour, she spoke about how, only decades earlier, “very few people spoke about breast cancer” in the United States, and how First Ladies Betty Ford and Nancy Reagan helped to foster awareness by speaking publicly about their own diagnosis and treatment (White House, 2007). In Saudi Arabia she met with breast cancer patients and advocates and was presented with a black headscarf decorated with pink ribbons, which she promptly put on. Interviewing the first lady after the trip, reporter Chris Wallace noted her increas­ ingly higher profile and said, “some con­ servatives in this country are upset with you … for putting on a scarf given to you … by a Saudi doctor” (Fox News, 2007). Wallace pointed out that, for some, this was a “tacit endorsement of Islam’s subjugation of women.” Mrs. Bush replied that she did  not “see it that way at all” and said: “They saw this as giving me a gift from their culture. … These women do not see cover­ ing as some sort of subjugation of women … That’s their religion. That’s their culture. That’s a religious choice of theirs” (Fox News, 2007).



laura welch bush: strength and serenity in turbulent times

One journalist who was present at the meeting and who came to Laura Bush’s defense was columnist Kathleen Parker, who placed the incident in context, saying that “the morning meeting was touching and intimate, the sort of bonding that opens hearts and minds in diplomatically useful ways” (Parker 2007: A04). Five years after the meeting, the present author received a forwarded email from Dr. Samia al‐Amoudi, one of the women who met with Laura Bush. Al Amoudi referred to the “big movement” the first lady helped to spark and said, “we can not repay [Mrs. Bush] for her impact” (al‐Amoudi to author, May 6, 2010). Although her style of diplomacy involved recognizing cultural differences concerning gender, she did not pull punches when it came to fundamental principles such as allowing women the vote and giving them access to education. During her first solo trip to the Middle East, in May 2005, Laura Bush delivered a speech at the World Economic Forum in Jordan in which she called for women’s participation in govern­ ment and in decision making. In her memoir, Mrs. Bush said that she noticed a “­r ustling” in the audience, followed by the departure of “a delegation of white‐robed men in red‐checked head coverings” who, she said, were “from Saudi Arabia, where women cannot vote and cannot drive.” Although she wrote that “no one in the press reported the walkout” (Bush, 2010: 620), Eugene Robinson of the Washington Post noted her “polite but firm call for gender equality.” Acknowledging that such a statement might sound noncontroversial to people in the United States, Robinson went on to say that, in countries such as Saudi Arabia, “the idea that women should enjoy the same rights, privileges and oppor­ tunities as men is revolutionary” (Robinson 2005: A17). The Saudi walkout turned out to be a minor dustup compared to the controversy that awaited Laura Bush in Egypt. Her visit there happened to fall two days before a

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nationwide referendum on a change in the presidential election process intended to allow candidates from opposition parties to be included on the slate. Laura Bush came under fire after calling the proposed change a “bold and wise move” on the part of Egyptian president Hosni Mubarak, unaware that members of opposition groups like the Muslim Brotherhood and the liberal Ghad party were required to “secure the backing of members of Mubarak’s ruling party to participate” and were planning to boycott the elections (VandeHei, 2005). Laura Bush wrote in Spoken from the Heart that the elections in Egypt had not come up in her pre‐trip National Security Council (NSC) briefings. “I assume that the people at the NSC thought I was going abroad to do cultural events and ladies’ things and never thought I would be asked about politics,” she remarked (Bush, 2010: 325). With the first lady’s increased global platform, the White House made sure that she and her staff had sufficient background briefings for all future diplomatic tasks in which she was engaged (McBride, 2013). That Laura Bush interpreted the scope of her work as broader than “ladies’ things” was evident in her response to the military regime in Burma. She was particularly trou­ bled by the imprisonment of opposition leader Aung San Suu Kyi. Between 2006 and 2008 she took a number of public actions on behalf of the Burmese people, including hosting a roundtable at the United Nations, publishing an op‐ed in the Wall Street Journal, signing a letter, along with 16 female US senators, urging UN Secretary General Ban‐Ki Moon to pressure the government to release Aung San Suu Kyi, and telephoning the secretary general to ask him to denounce the military regime’s violent crackdown against peaceful protests by Buddhist monks. On January 4, 2008, on the anniversary of the country’s inde­ pendence, she issued a formal statement denouncing the military junta and the “fear, poverty, and oppression under General

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Than Shwe and his military regime” (quoted in Patterson, 2008: 651). On May 5, 2008 she again broke with first lady tradition by addressing reporters from the podium in the White House press‐briefing room, calling the Burmese leadership “inept,” and accusing leaders of preventing the country from building an economy. Washington Post reporter Dan Eggen called the briefing “an unusual foray by the president’s spouse into a high‐profile foreign policy crisis” (quoted in Patterson, 2008: 652). The Katrina Challenge During George W. Bush’s second term, the nation suffered another catastrophe when Hurricane Katrina struck the Gulf Coast. Once again, Mrs. Bush was called upon to provide comfort and encouragement during a period of fear, chaos, and, this time, anger and recrimination directed at the adminis­ tration. During the next year she would visit the region almost once a month, making a total of 24 visits between 2005 and 2008 (White House, 2009). Photographs of the first lady taken during the first few weeks after the hurricane look similar to those taken right after 9/11: she is shown visiting schools and hugging and reading to children. In an interview with American Urban Radio Networks, she defended her husband and called suggestions that the delay in aiding victims might be due to racism “disgusting,” while at the same time acknowledging that poverty had left people vulnerable. The interviewer recalled the first lady’s response after the 9/11 terror attacks and pointed out the similarity to her present efforts to reassure children. This interview is an example of what MaryAnne Borrelli (2011) referred to as “representation”: a first lady function that goes beyond public relations and “requires an entrepreneur’s skill in communicating and relationship building.” As a representative, Borrelli wrote, the first lady may be “called on to

clarify and calm, or to inspire and motivate, projecting a voice of confidence, reason, and balance” (Borrelli, 2011: 1). Just as she had after September 11, 2001, Laura Bush emphasized the need to restore school libraries and for children to continue to attend school. In 2001 she started the Laura Bush Foundation for America’s Libraries, which raised private money to fund school libraries for this cause. On September 25, 2005, at a breakfast designed to honor foundation donors on the day of the National Book Festival, Laura Bush made a special appeal to the group in order to raise additional funds specifically for school libraries in the Gulf region. The group would raise $6 million for libraries in Gulf Coast schools (Walker, 2012). Diversifying Her Domestic Portfolio Despite her increasingly visible role in the administration and the awareness that her work was not in fact limited to “ladies’ things,” the perception that Laura Bush was a “traditional” woman who embraced traditional “first lady”‐style causes stuck to her. Mrs. Bush also started the second term by traveling the country in order to promote the Heart Truth campaign, a National Institutes of Heath (NIH) initiative that aimed to educate the public about heart disease in women; thus she became the “national ambassador” for the effort (National Heart, Lung and Blood Institute, 2013). She continued prior first lady tradi­ tions of being a “custodian of the White House” as well, as she led an effort to restore historic rooms in the residence and the State Floor, the West Wing, the Eisenhower Executive Office Building, and the presi­ dential retreat at Camp David. One of the most intricate and large‐scale projects she undertook was the restoration of the Lincoln Bedroom. In an interview with Doris Kearns Goodwin that was part of the American



laura welch bush: strength and serenity in turbulent times

University’s “Legacies of America’s First Ladies” conference series, Laura Bush talked about the personal and national significance of the restoration. “[The White House] owned one of the five original copies of the Gettysburg Address written in Lincoln’s hand, and that was in the room. Our guests … would read it and weep.” In the same interview she spoke of the emotional strength she drew from the history that surrounded her: You do think of presidents the whole time you are there, and there’s a great comfort in that. … Especially in a time when we had troops in Iraq and Afghanistan, it was very comforting after September 11, to know that we can overcome this, too. (American University, 2012)

But she also sought ways to broaden and  modernize this custodial role. At her request, the White House Historical Association approved the purchase of the largest single acquisition in its history—a modern art painting by African American artist Jacob Lawrence titled The Builders. Biographer Ronald Kessler pointed out at the same time that the Bushes, and Laura in particular, put an end to at least one battle in the “culture wars” by increasing federal funding for the arts and by foster­ ing real appreciation for the arts and for literature (Kessler, 2006: 157). Laura “had a hand” in naming poet and former General Foods Vice President Dana Gioia as chair­ man of the National Endowment for the Arts (Safire, 2004), and their combined advocacy helped secure an $18 million increase in federal funds for the arts. Although Hartford Courant arts writer Frank Rizzo observed that most of this money went into promoting established American “masterpieces” rather than fos­ tering new talent (Rizzo, 2004), Kennedy Center president Michael Kaiser called the first lady “a true arts leader” (Americans for the Arts, 2008).

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Mrs. Bush’s interest in the arts and pres­ ervation extended to the nation’s historic and natural landmarks and coastal resources as well. She continued the Save America’s Treasures initiative, a federally funded program established by Hillary Clinton in 1998 to protect the country’s historic landmarks and artifacts, and she advocated for Preserve America, a 2003 presidential initiative designed to highlight community cultural and natural preservation efforts. She also served as the honorary chair of the National Park Foundation and launched First Bloom, a conservation and education project for young people, in honor of Lady Bird Johnson’s conservation legacy. While library building, historic and artistic preservation, and the promotion of health might have been consistent with the types of activities that US first ladies are expected to engage in, meeting with former gang leaders came as a surprise to some. But Laura Bush started the second term as leader of the president’s Helping America’s Youth (HAY) initiative, a $150 million program announced in her husband’s 2005 State of the Union address and designed to raise awareness about the challenges that faced the nation’s youth, particularly at‐risk boys. The initiative worked with effective organi­ zations such as Father Gregory Boyle’s Homeboy Industries in Los Angeles, the largest gang intervention program in the country, and with job training, counseling, and other services for young people who sought a way out of gang life. In October 2005 members of Homeboy Industries and other programs were invited to Washington for a conference at Howard University and a reception at the White House. It was a chance, in Mrs. Bush’s words, for “young men who had been in gang fights and had even spent time in in jail, [to] learn that, having started down the path to change their lives, they were welcome in the most prominent home in the nation” (Bush, 2010: 656). Her efforts led to an executive order that created a “nationwide portal”

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for identifying, in communities throughout the country, resources and programs aimed at helping youth (McBride, 2013). Laura Bush was accustomed to being stereotyped in the media, but the way in which news outlets treated HAY illustrates some of the pervasive media challenges she faced regarding her work. While local cover­ age of HAY was positive, national media generally ignored it. A notable exception was the New York Times. One of the stories that had inspired HAY was a 2004 New York Times Magazine article in which reporter Jason DeParle had chronicled the struggles of a young African American man named Kenyatta Thigpen in Milwaukee to break out of a cycle of fatherlessness, poverty, and gangs. About nine months into the initia­ tive, Mrs. Bush agreed to be interviewed by DeParle in the East Wing (McBride, 2013). Mrs. Bush wrote in Spoken from the Heart: “I never expected what would happen [that] afternoon.” In a tone that she found “adversarial and more than a touch offensive,” DeParle asked her: “being a wealthy woman in the White House, [you’re] vulnerable to people rolling their eyes and making fun of  your ability to talk to gang members. Did  that—does that go through your mind?” (Bush, 2010: 652). She wrote of being dismayed at how, even after she described to DeParle her history of working as a teacher and librarian with inner city stu­ dents, the reporter seemed to assume that he knew all there was to know about her and could not imagine that “a small town girl who became a librarian,” would be inter­ ested in “a poor, black big city boy who became a thug” (DeParle, 2005) and whose life history and circumstances differed from hers (Bush, 2010: 653). Conclusion As the DeParle interview suggests, there are many stereotypes around the position of first lady. Despite the sometimes rigid way in

which the position has been viewed, it has also been recognized as a “‘site’ of American womanhood” (Anderson, 2004)—a focal point in American society for a more fluid public debate about women’s roles, and also, in modern times, about feminist ideals. After Laura Bush left the White House, a contro­ versy around her role surfaced; she became a lightning rod for certain feminists after being nominated for the Alice Award (named after early twentieth‐century suffragist and Equal Rights Amendment author Alice Paul). The Sewall‐Belmont House and Museum in Washington, DC gives the award each year to “a distinguished woman who has made an outstanding contribution in breaking barriers and setting new precedents for women” (Sewall‐Belmont Museum, 2013). Laura Bush’s nomination sparked a protest in the form of a letter signed by 22 feminist activists, including several of the original Sewall‐Belmont board members. The letter said that, while “her advocacy on behalf of Afghan women is commendable … she has been conspicuously absent in every major arena of American women’s rights” (Groer, 2012). Sewall‐Belmont’s executive director, Page Harrington, defended the nomination, arguing that the former first lady had bene­ fited the lives of women both in the United States and around the world through her “commitment to education, health care, and human rights” (Reliable Source, 2012). Other prominent women who weighed in on the matter were television commentator Greta Van Susteren (Van Susteren, 2012) and columnist Kathleen Parker, who praised Laura Bush for using her “bully pulpit” for “advancing women’s rights in far corners of the world” and for speaking on behalf of Burma’s Aung San Suu Kyi (Parker, 2012). With a nod to the “key components of the feminist catechism,” the issues of abortion and birth control, Parker argued that “repro­ ductive freedom is surely important, but first one has to be alive—free to speak one’s conscience, protected from the killing fields of the Taliban” (Parker, 2012).



laura welch bush: strength and serenity in turbulent times

The protest failed, and Laura Bush received her award at a sold‐out event. The ceremony occurred on the very day when Aung San Suu Kyi was in Washington to receive the Congressional Gold Medal, and the former first lady met privately with the Nobel laureate earlier in the day. The Washington Post wrote of the serendipitous way in which the human rights activist allowed Laura Bush to have the last word: “Just a couple of hours ago, I had the wonderful pleasure of finally meeting Aung San Suu Kyi face‐to‐face,” Bush told the crowd. “I asked her what I should say to you today and she said for me to tell you … it’s so important for all of us, as women, to support each other.” (Reliable Source, 2012)

As this award controversy illustrates, there is still much more to be said about Laura Welch Bush and her diverse roles as first lady. There is certainly fertile ground for a critical historical analysis aiming to explore her tenure; such a book‐length study has yet to be written, though there have been any number of more focused works of varying quality. One area that is particularly ripe for investigation is the Bushes’ second term. The three Laura Bush biographies published to date—Antonia Felix’s (2002) Laura: America’s First Lady, First Mother; Ann Gerhart’s (2004) The Perfect Wife: The Life and Choices of Laura Bush; and Ronald Kessler’s (2006) Laura Bush: An Intimate Portrait—all share a focus on the first term. Each of these books is written in a journalistic, anecdotal style, and the authors all rely heavily on personal interviews with subjects who knew Laura Bush personally. None of the biographies was authorized, however, and none of the authors interviewed Mrs. Bush for his or her book. First ladies scholar Betty Caroli’s From Martha Washington to Michelle Obama contains a biographical essay on Laura Bush

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and an overview of the entire George W. Bush administration (Caroli, 2010). Citing the three categories that first lady scholar and communications professor Myra Gutin has developed to characterize the president’s spouse historically—ceremonial hostess, emerging spokeswoman for the president, and independent activist and political sur­ rogate—Caroli classifies Laura Bush as a cross between the second and the third categories, that is, more than just a ceremo­ nial hostess or an emerging spokeswoman but “not quite an independent voice of her own” (Caroli, 2010: 686). The portrait she paints of Laura Bush is of a quick student who had an innate sense of discipline and who grew more confident about using her voice as her husband climbed the political ladder. For a book that includes the second term and the period beyond it, researchers have Laura Bush’s memoir Spoken from the Heart (Bush, 2010), which chronicles the entire eight years of the Bush administration— although much of its focus is placed on the Bushes’ lives prior to the White House. In a 2012 interview at the Texas Book Festival with historian Mark Updegrove, the director of the Lyndon Baines Johnson Presidential Library, Laura Bush gave a possible reason for the book’s emphasis on  her early years. Although she initially planned for the book to be about the White House, when she returned home in 2009 she realized that she “needed to write about Texas.” As she explained to Updegrove, “I wanted people to see our state for what it really is; to have a chance to know what it was like for both George and me to grow up in Midland” (Lyndon Baines Johnson Presidential Library, 2010). For a systematic, institutional overview of some of Mrs. Bush’s activities, Bradley Patterson’s To Serve the President: Continuity and Innovation in the White House Staff is  an organizational analysis of the White House that includes a breakdown of the office of the first lady and of the statutes that

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govern it. He describes the president’s spouse as a “senior counselor to the chief executive, perhaps the president’s closest and most trusted” (Patterson, 2008: 641). A sixteen‐page section titled “The Public Face of Laura Bush” summarizes the first lady’s work on behalf of the administration, with brief accounts of a number of initiatives in which Mrs. Bush played a major role. Future historians of the Bush administra­ tion may want to examine the impact the first lady’s diplomatic efforts had on the course of foreign aid initiatives like PEPFAR and the President’s Malaria Initiative (PMI), as well as the long‐term effects of her empowerment of women and of her health outreach efforts in the Middle East and around the world. Materials on these programs and other aspects of her work as first lady are readily available, owing to the fact that the George W. Bush administra­ tion was the first “Internet presidency” in US history. Moreover, the National Archives and Records Administration (NARA) made the Bush papers subject to Freedom of Information Act (FOIA) requests as of January 2014. As a result, those researching Laura Bush have immedi­ ate access to video footage of many of her speeches and interviews through the C‐ SPAN Video Library, as well as to official transcripts and press releases on NARA’s George W. Bush White House website. Of course, more sensitive files will not be open for some time. Laura Bush remains actively engaged in  her work on behalf of women around the world. She has continued her leader­ ship with the US—Afghan Women’s Council, currently serving as its honorary co‐chair, together with Hillary Clinton and Afghanistan’s First Lady Rula Ghani; and she is chair of the Laura W. Bush Women’s Initiative at the George W. Bush Institute in Dallas. Her work at the Institute supports women’s empower­ ment in the Middle East and also includes the First Ladies Initiative, which is based

on a program originally developed by the  present author as an outgrowth of the  experience of working with Laura Bush and first ladies around the world. The First Ladies Initiative is designed, in the words of Laura Bush, “to highlight the significant role [first ladies] can play in addressing pressing issues in their countries” (George W. Bush Presidential Center, 2013) by providing networking opportunities, staff training sessions, and an annual summit. The initiative was launched in Tanzania in July 2013 with a  summit of African first ladies that fea­ tured a highly publicized conversation between Laura Bush and Michelle Obama, moderated by journalist and historian Cokie Roberts. In 2014 Mrs. Bush and Mrs. Obama co‐hosted a second summit in Washington, DC, which raised over $200 million in investments in education, health, and economic opportunity in Africa (George W. Bush Presidential Center, 2014). At its 2014 graduation ceremony, the American University of Afghanistan awarded Laura Bush a doctorate in Humane Letters, which the university formally presented to  her in February 2015. At this event, Afghan First Lady Rula Ghani praised Mrs.  Bush, saying: “She is someone who knows what the word ‘commitment’ means. … You don’t appreciate her power until faced with her achievements” (Wallace, 2015). Although tradition and intense public scrutiny place certain constraints upon the president’s spouse, there is also a great deal of freedom and influence available within that structure, as Laura Bush recognized and fully exploited during her term. While she was typecast as a quiet librarian who pursued “safe,” conventional causes, she may better be remembered as an example of a modern first lady who was able to stretch the limits of her role to the fullest extent and who continues to encourage others around the world to do the same.



laura welch bush: strength and serenity in turbulent times

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National First Ladies Library. 2014b. “First Lady Biography: Pat Nixon.” http://www.firstladies. org/biographies/firstladies.aspx?biography=38 (accessed January 10, 2015). National Heart, Lung and Blood Institute. 2013. “The Heart Truth, Founding Ambassador.”. http://www.nhlbi.nih.gov/educational/ hearttruth/about/ambassador.htm (accessed November 3, 2015). National Press Club/Smithsonian Institution Museum of American History. 1993. First Ladies and the Media. Speakers: Barbara Matusow, Edith Mayo, Mary McGrory, Nan Robertson and Sheila Rabb Weidenfeld. November 3. http://www.c‐span.org/video/?53333–1/first‐ ladies‐media (accessed August 19, 2014). Parker, K. 2007. “Covering Laura Bush’s Head Poorly.” Augusta Chronicle (Georgia), November 4: A04. LexisNexis Academic. Parker, K. 2012. “Laura Bush’s Fight for Women.” Washington Post. June 19. http:// www.washingtonpost.com/opinions/kathleen‐ parker‐laura‐bushs‐fight‐for‐women/ 2012/06/19/gJQA8v70oV_stor y.html (accessed February 11, 2014). Parmley, S. 2004. “First Lady Takes Her Message to Women.” Philadelphia Inquirer. October 8: A08. LexisNexis Academic. Patterson, B. 2008. To Serve the President: Continuity and Innovation in the White House Staff. Washington, DC: Brookings Institution. Reliable Source. 2012. “Sewall‐Belmont House Supporters Split over Award for Laura Bush.” Washington Post, June 18. https://www. washingtonpost.com/blogs/reliable‐source/ post/sewall‐belmont‐house‐supporters‐split‐ over‐award‐for‐laura‐bush/2012/06/17/ gJQAaqw8jV_blog.html (accessed November 12, 2015). Republican National Committee. 2000. “Republican National Convention.” Day 1: Evening. Speaker: Laura Bush. First broadcast July 31 by C‐SPAN. http://www.c‐span.org/ video/?158166–2/republican‐national‐ convention‐day‐1‐evening (accessed January 16, 2014). Rizzo, F. 2004. “NEA Initiative: Stroke of Genius or Status Quo?” Hartford Courant, February 8: G6. http://articles.courant.com/ 2004‐02‐08/entertainment/0402080735_1_ nea‐s‐budget‐nea‐money‐objectionable‐art). (accessed November 30, 2015).

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Roberts, C., and S. V. Roberts. 2009. “Score One for the First Lady.” Lowell Sun (Massachusetts), January 14. Accessed August 19, 2014. LexisNexis Academic. Robinson, E. 2005. “Mideast Mission Unaccomplished.” Washington Post, May 31: A17. LexisNexis Academic. Roe v. Wade, 410 US 113 (1973). Safire, W. 2004. “A Gioia to Behold.” Editorial Desk. New York Times, May 8: section A, col. 6, p. 19. LexisNexis Academic. Sciolino, E. 2001. “Laura Bush Sees Everything in Its Place, Including Herself.” New York Times, January 15. http://www.nytimes. com/2001/01/15/us/laura‐bush‐sees‐ everything‐in‐its‐place‐including‐herself.html (accessed January 26, 2014). Sewall‐Belmont Museum. 2013. “The Alice Award.” http://www.sewallbelmont.org/ program/the‐alice‐award (accessed March 18, 2014). Shales, T. 2000. “A Dismal Night of Can’t‐See TV.” Washington Post, August 1: C01. Stanley, A. 2004. “The First Lady’s Influence Is Starting to Reveal Itself.” New York Times, September 1: P9. Stokes, A. Q. 2005. “First Ladies in Waiting: The  Fight for Rhetorical Legitimacy on the Campaign Trail.” In The 2004 Presidential Campaign: A Communication Perspective, edited by R. Denton, 167–194. Lanham, MD: Rowman & Littlefield. Stolberg, S. G. 2007. “First Lady Raising Her  Profile without Changing Her Image.” New  York Times, October 15. http:// w w w. n y t i m e s . c o m / 2 0 0 7 / 10/15/washington/15bush.html (accessed January 12, 2014). Sulfaro, V. 2007. “Affective Evaluations of First Ladies: A Comparison of Hillary Clinton and Laura Bush.” Presidential Studies Quarterly 37 (3): 486–514. Swift, W. 2014. Pat and Dick. New York: Simon & Schuster. The Today Show. 2005. “First Lady Laura Bush Speaks with Today Host Katie Couric about Her Middle East Trip and the Tense Moments Sunday as Her Visit to Jerusalem Holy Sites Drew Protesters.” First aired on NBC May 23. http://www.today.com/ video/today/7951090#7951090 (accessed March 17, 2014).

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Trei, L. 2004. “Pollsters Dissect Election Win.” Stanford News, November 17. http://news. stanford.edu/news/2004/november17/ polls‐1117.html (accessed March 16, 2014). VandeHei, J. 2005. “Laura Bush Endorses Mubarak’s Ballot Plan.” Washington Post, May  24. http://www.washingtonpost.com/ wp‐dyn/content/article/2005/05/23/ AR2005052300791.html (accessed October 15, 2013). Van Susteren, G. 2012. “Who Will Speak Out against an Outrageous Insult to Former First  Lady Laura Bush?” Huffington Post, June 18. http://www.huffingtonpost.com/ gr eta‐van‐suster en/laura‐bush‐awar d‐ letter_b_1607584.html (accessed November 30, 2015). Walker, J. 2012. “The Calm AFTER the Storm: An Interview with Laura Bush about the Caring Power of the Gulf Coast School Library Initiative.” Knowledge Quest 40 (3): 70–75. Wallace, C. 2015. “A New Day in Afghanistan.” Huffington Post, February 12. http://www. huffingtonpost.com/the‐george‐w‐bush‐ institute/a‐new‐day‐in‐afghanistan_b_6673506. html (accessed April 16, 2015). Wertheimer, M. 2005. “Laura Bush: Using the ‘Magic of Words’ to Educate and Advocate.” In Leading Ladies of the White House, edited by M. Wertheimer, 235–270. New York: Rowman & Littlefield. Wertheimer, M. 2009. “Laura Bush.” In Michelle Obama: The Report to the First Lady, edited by R. P. Watson, 193–199. New York: Nova Science. The White House. 2001. “Radio Address by Mrs. Bush.” National Archives and Records Administration. November 17. http:// georgewbush‐whitehouse.archives.gov/ news/releases/2001/11/20011117.html (accessed March 17, 2014). The White House. 2002. “Mrs. Bush’s Remarks before Senate Education Committee.” National Archives and Records Administration. January 24. http://georgewbush‐whitehouse.archives. gov/news/releases/2002/01/20020124–15. html (accessed December 12, 2013). The White House. 2007. “Mrs. Bush’s Remarks on the US–Middle East Partnership on Breast Cancer Awareness and Research.” National Archives and Records Administration. October

22. http://georgewbush‐whitehouse.archives. gov/news/releases/2007/10/20071022. html (accessed March 17, 2014). The White House. 2009. “Mrs. Laura Bush’s Leadership: First Lady’s Work Avances Bush’s Agenda at Home and Abroad.” National Archives and Records Administration. http:// georgewbush‐whitehouse.archives.gov/ infocus/bushrecord/factsheets/leadership. html (accessed March 17, 2014). Winfrey, O. 2001. “Oprah Talks to Laura Bush.” O, The Oprah Magazine, May. h t t p : / / w w w. o p r a h . c o m / o m a g a z i n e / Oprah‐Inter views‐Laura‐Bush/print/1 (accessed October 2, 2013). Wolf, N. 2004. “Female Trouble.” New York Magazine, September 27. http://nymag.com/ nymetro/news/columns/thesexes/9911 (accessed February 1, 2014).

Further Reading ABC News 2001. “Americans’ Sadness Could Become Depression.” September 21. http:// abcnews.go.com/GMA/story?id=126696& page=2 (accessed March 6, 2014). ABC News 2001. “Laura Bush Speaks out on Abortion.” January 19. http://abcnews.go. com/Politics/stor y?id=122008&page=1 (accessed March 6, 2014). Bumiller, E. 2002. “Teach the Children Well, First Lady Urges Senators.” New York Times, January 25: A09. LexisNexis Academic. Dobbs, M. 2008. “Don’t forget Pat Nixon!” Washington Post, March 27. http://voices. washingtonpost.com/fact‐checker/2008/03/ dont_forget_pat_nixon.html (accessed December 8, 2014). NBC News. 2005. “In Egypt, Laura Bush Urges Equality for Women.” May 24. http://www. nbcnews.com/id/7918891/#.UygIKF5z_vi (accessed November 20, 2013). The White House. 2001. “Mrs. Bush’s Letter to Middle and High School Students Following Terrorist Attacks.” National Archives and Records Administration. September 12. http://georgewbush‐whitehouse.archives. gov/news/releases/2001/09/letter1.html (accessed November 21, 2013).

Chapter Thirty Nine

First Lady Michelle Obama: The American Dream Endures, I Nancy Kegan Smith and Diana B. Carlin

On the night of November 4, 2008, Michelle LaVaughn Robinson Obama stood on a platform in Chicago’s Grant Park with a crowd cheering her husband, who had just been elected the forty‐fourth president of the United States. This was the beginning of an incredible journey— the first African American president and first lady. It had been a long hard road for them to reach this truly historic moment. Just twenty‐three years earlier, as a young Princeton student, Michelle Robinson had wondered in her BA thesis whether “a White cultural and social structure will allow me to remain on the periphery of society; never becoming a full participant” (M. Robinson, 1985: 2–3). Now, as she smiled and waved to the huge cheering crowd in Grant Park, she heard her hus­ band say: if there is anyone out there who still doubts that America is a place where all things are possible, who still wonders if the dream of our Founders is alive in our time, who still questions the power of our democracy, tonight is your answer. (B. Obama, 2008c)

As the first African American first lady (see  Figure  39.1), Michelle Obama is also the first whose maternal great‐great‐great‐ grandmother and paternal great‐great‐ grandparents were slaves. Her maternal great‐great‐great‐grandfather was a white slaveowner. Her background of relatives from the South, the Midwest, and the North is indicative of the complexity of the African American experience before and after the Civil War. Hers was clearly a very different family tree from that of any other first lady (Swarns, 2013). She would enter a White House that was partly built with slave labor. Because of her historical role, she would be under intense scrutiny from an American public with a variety of racial views. In spite of such pressures, when Michelle Obama stepped into the unique role of first lady, she remained determined to be true to herself and to define the position in terms that were meaningful to her. As she said in an inter­ view with C‐SPAN on being first lady: “To the extent it feels natural it is because I try to make it me” (C‐SPAN, 2014). Like other chapters in this volume, ours surveys books and articles about its subject. Because Mrs. Obama is still in office as of

A Companion to First Ladies, First Edition. Edited by Katherine A. S. Sibley. © 2016 John Wiley & Sons, Inc. Published 2016 by John Wiley & Sons, Inc.

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Figure  39.1  Official portrait of Michelle Obama in the Green Room of the White House, February 23, 2013. Source: White House Photo Office.

this printing it is too early for historical interpretations. The present chapter and the next explore key influences in her back­ ground, her own writings, interviews, and speeches in order to examine her journey and her accomplishments to date in this most unusual job—which is unelected, has no constitutional base, and carries huge public expectations. “There Is Still so Much History Yet to Be Made”: Keynote Address, June 2011 (M. Obama, 2011) Michelle Obama’s enactment of the first lady’s role continues to evolve, and her legacy remains to be defined. There are no autobiographies (the authors assume that

there will be one), no authorized biogra­ phies, and no reflections from scholars informed by the passage of time and by the  opening of archival documents; nor is there a post‐White House history to fill out  the story. Thus, gaining insight into Mrs. Obama as first lady relies more on her own words in speeches and interviews, on events, on journalistic biographies, and on press accounts. As with most modern first ladies, perspectives on her role are provided by scholars from a wide range of disciplines. They produce a “snapshot in time,” usually focusing on a narrow aspect of her speeches, her causes, and even her well‐toned arms. When half of the Obamas’ second term was  still to come, she was ranked number five on the annual Sienna College Expert Survey of American first ladies, after Eleanor Roosevelt, Abigail Adams, Jacqueline Kennedy, and Dolley Madison (Sienna College Research Institute/C‐SPAN, 2014). She ranked number eight on the Forbes list of powerful women in 2013 and 2014 (Howard, 2013; Forbes, 2014). Her impact on the first lady’s role and on the public is undeniable. As Michelle became the new first lady, Life published a fully illustrated biography entitled Michelle Obama: A Portrait of the First Lady, which covers her journey from her childhood in South Side Chicago to 2009 (Life Magazine, 2009). The unau­ thorized biographies, especially the ones by Liza Mundy (2009) and Elizabeth Lightfoot (2008), give the reader a thorough look at Mrs. Obama before her role as first lady. A biography geared at schoolchildren has already come out: Michelle Obama by Alma Halbert Bond (2012), which not only pro­ vides biographic information but also devotes chapters to her achievements as first lady, her children, and her place among first ladies. Rachel Swarns’s (2013) American Tapestry provides an excellent and detailed look at Michelle Obama’s multiracial back­ ground. Jodi Kantor’s (2012) book The Obamas gives an extensive account of the



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first years of the Obama presidency and con­ tains sections on Mrs. Obama as first lady. The most comprehensive biography of Michelle Obama to date is Peter Slevin’s (2015) Michelle Obama: A Life. This book is the only one that covers six years of Mrs. Obama’s being a first lady and gives an excellent analysis of the programs she chose to focus on and of how her unique story is inextricably interwoven with everything she has done as first lady. Kate Betts’s (2011) Everyday Icon: Michelle Obama and the Power of Style, as its title suggests, looks at Michelle’s fashion and style, whether in her clothing, in her athleticism, or in her work. Three other books provide very different perspectives. In The Audacity of Hope, Barack Obama gives interesting insights on Michelle such as his noticing “a glimmer that danced across her round, dark eyes … as if, deep inside, she knew how fragile things really were” (B. Obama, 2008a: 329). In A Game of Character, Craig Robinson provides a brother’s perspective: he remembers for example how his father liked Barack when they met, but felt that Michelle would “eat him alive” (C. Robinson, 2010: xix). In Mrs. Obama’s own book American Grown, the reader gets this first lady’s view on the importance of healthy eating: it is a book designed to launch “a conversation about the food we eat, the lives we lead, and how all of that affects our children” (M. Obama, 2012: 9). Finally, two very important papers written by a young Michelle Robinson—her Princeton thesis and a paper at Harvard— help us understand, through her own words, some of the struggles and identity issues she went through on her historical journey to being first lady. The myriad of scholarly articles about Michelle Obama generally focus on her his­ torical importance, her unique background and its influence on the decisions she has made as first lady, her rhetoric, and her image—especially her body image. These articles also reveal much about the

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assumptions held about powerful women in the first half of the twenty‐first century. “How to Read Michelle Obama,” by Maria Lauret (2011), examines Mrs. Obama’s role as the first African American first lady and the importance of this role for both her choices as first lady and the history of African Americans. Jaclyn Howel’s (2009) “Recasting Femininity Within the American Dream: Michelle Obama’s 2008 Democratic National Convention Address” is an exam­ ple of scholars’ interest in her rhetoric and communication style. Two articles illustra­ tive of the academic discussion of race and of how Mrs. Obama’s bare arms and body image threatened the traditional white mid­ dle‐class image of a first lady are “Michelle Obama’s Arms: Race, Respectability, and Class Privilege” by Shirley Tate (2012) and “Bare Biceps and American (In)Security: Post‐9/11 Constructions of Safe(ty), Threat and the First Black First Lady” by Carmen R. Lugo‐Lugo and Mary K. Bloodworth‐Lugo (2011). Shifting the focus from the muscular to the maternal, Carol Brown’s (2012) “Marketing Michelle: Mommy Politics and Post‐Feminism in the Age of Obama” examines Michelle Obama’s change in image during the 2008 campaign, from being viewed by some as too aggres­ sive and angry to assuming the softer role of “mom in chief,” and how this change affected her handling of her role as first lady. Brown argues that she transformed her image so as to make it less threatening to the American people, to communicate her messages in a more positive and effective way, and to stay true to her desire to focus on her girls and family issues. The popular press has continued to pro­ vide readers with vast coverage of varying quality on this first lady. Many of Michelle Obama’s interviews capture her struggles with political life and its impact on her mar­ riage and family. Ironically, it was her dedi­ cation to her daughters—the mom in chief role—that caused her to acquiesce to her husband’s growing political ambitions and

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to set forth on an “improbable journey” that led to the White House and gave her a place in history. As noted in the discussion of the 2008 campaign, her lack of experi­ ence and her desire to be herself resulted in some missteps, but she quickly learned from them and entered the White House with a positive image. An Improbable Journey In an interview during the 2008 campaign, Michelle Obama described her unlikely role as a presidential candidate’s wife: The truth is, I’m not supposed to be standing here. I’m a statistical oddity. Black girl, brought up on the South Side of Chicago. Was I supposed to go to Princeton? No. They said maybe Harvard Law was too much for me to reach for. But I went, I did fine. (Quoted in Wolffe, 2010)

Michelle and her brother, Craig Robinson, were raised by devoted parents of modest means in a one‐bedroom apartment in South Side Chicago. Her parents empha­ sized the importance of education for open­ ing new opportunities in life, and she worked hard to get into and graduate from two Ivy League universities. She had a more varied career path than any other first lady: as a corporate lawyer, head of a nonprofit organization, city administrator, and vice president of the University of Chicago Medical Center. When her husband entered the Illinois State Senate and, later, the US Senate, she stayed in Chicago with their two girls to balance many different roles: wife, mother, professional and political wife. She did not come from a political family and was not familiar with the Washington social or political scenes. Both of Michelle Obama’s parents, Fraser, born on August 1, 1935, and Marian Shields, born on July 30, 1937, were from Chicago, as were many of their

immediate relatives. Michelle Obama’s rel­ atives had settled in Chicago from many parts of the South, including South Carolina, Alabama, Mississippi, Georgia, and Virginia. African Americans left the South in great numbers beginning in the late 1880s, in a historical movement known as the Great Migration, in search for better job opportunities and an improved way of life in the more industrial and—they hoped—less prejudiced and less segregated Midwest and North. Chicago was one of the main destinations for these displaced southerners; and South Side Chicago in particular was where many of them settled and found jobs (Mundy, 2009: 3). By 1931 all four of Mrs. Obama’s grandparents were in Chicago (Swarns, 2013: 87). Interestingly, Michelle Obama’s parents were raised in families very different from the loving and unified one they provided for their children. Both Fraser’s and Marian’s parents separated during their marriages. Both sets of grandparents had come from the South to Chicago in hopes of finding better jobs and lives, but were disillusioned by the challenges they found there. Fraser’s father, Fraser Robinson II, left his wife and two sons after seven years of marriage. About ten years after he left, he “walked through the front door, settled into a chair, and opened his newspaper, as if he had never left” (Swarns, 2013: 104). He remained a gruff and distant father to his children, refusing to pay for any higher education for his sons, which left Michelle’s father on his own to pay for college (Swarns 2013: 106). Marian’s parents, Purnell Shields and Rebecca Coleman Shields, also separated. After her father died, Marian said that he “could be very angry about race … My father was a very angry man” (Swarns, 2013: 95). However, Marian (2013: 109) also said that he taught his children never to be divi­ sive about race and passed down to them his “love for music, his personality, his wide‐ open spirit, his love for barbecue.”



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What was crucial to both families was the importance of working hard and of making a better life. Michelle’s parents first met when they were in their twenties. Both had attended some college. Fraser worked as a lifeguard during the summers, and it was in that capacity that he met Marian, who was working as a secretary for the Spiegel Catalog Company. They married on October 27, 1960. Their love for each other and for their children was something that was clear to both children. Michelle Obama characterized their approach to parenting in her speech at the Democratic National Convention in August of 2008: He and my mom poured everything they had into me and Craig. It was the greatest gift a child could receive, never doubting for a single minute that you’re loved and cherished and have a place in this world. And thanks to their faith and their hard work, we were able to go to college. So I know firsthand, from their lives and mine that the American Dream endures. (M. Obama, 2008)

Craig Robinson was born on April 21, 1962; and twenty‐two months later, on January 17, 1964, Michelle LaVaughn joined the family. Michelle was born at a pivotal time for civil rights in the United States. The 1964 Civil Rights Act was passed six months after her birth. It was a landmark piece of legislation that finally outlawed dis­ crimination in public accommodations, mandated desegregation of public facilities and education, and barred the unequal application of voter registration laws. This Act would be followed by other key pieces of civil rights legislation, including the 1965 Voting Rights Act and the 1968 Fair Housing Act. While key societal advances were occur­ ring, Chicago remained stubbornly divided along racial lines. In 1959 the US Commis­ sion on Civil Rights concluded that it was  one of the most racially segregated cities in the United States (US Civil Rights

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Commission Report, 1959: 365) due to “city policies [that] have resulted in a large measure of de facto segregation” (1959: 430). It was also a city with a political machine dominated by Mayor Richard J. Daley. In 1964 Fraser got a job in the city as pump operator within the water depart­ ment. As a city employee, he also served as a precinct captain for Daley’s Democratic Party organization. However, Fraser did not like politics and passed this sentiment on to his children. He also sculpted and painted, and according to Michelle,“probably, if he had his choice, would have been an artist” (Skiba, 2010). Marian Robinson stayed at home to raise both children. When Michelle was a young girl the fam­ ily moved from Parkway Garden Homes in the Woodlawn area to a better part of the South Side, called the South Shore area. Their tiny apartment was on the second floor of a two‐story traditional Chicago red­ brick bungalow on Euclid Avenue, rented from Marian Robinson’s aunt and uncle. Michelle—“Miche” to her family—and Craig had an extremely close relationship with each other, just as they did with their parents. One of the best descriptions of the Robinson family comes from Barack Obama, who wrote that meeting the Robinsons “was like dropping in on the set of Leave It to Beaver”: “Fraser, the kindly, good‐humored father… Marian, the pretty, sensible mother… Craig, the basketball‐ star brother, tall and friendly… And there were uncles and aunts and cousins every­ where stopping by” (B. Obama, 2008a: 330). Yet money was tight, and opportuni­ ties in their neighborhood were limited. Adding to the challenge, Fraser was diag­ nosed with multiple sclerosis when he was thirty. In spite of his disability, he was—by both children’s accounts—an incredibly loving father who spent most of his extra time with them and managed to create as normal a life as possible. The children had two sets of grandparents close by and saw their relatives often.

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Marian Robinson taught both children to read before they entered the Bryn Mawr Elementary School (now the Bouchet Elementary School), a public school less than a mile from their apartment. Michelle remembered that she and her friends would visit her mother during their lunch hour and “watch soap operas, and we’d eat lunch. We’d complain about our teachers” (quoted in Life Magazine, 2009: 23). She loved to play the piano and was both athletic and very independent. Marian Robinson remarked: “I always say Michelle raised her­ self from about nine years old” (quoted in Life Magazine, 2009: 23). Both children were highly intelligent. Craig skipped third grade and Michelle skipped second. At Bryn Mawr, Michelle was in a gifted program from the sixth to the eighth grades. She also graduated as saluta­ torian (C. Robinson, 2010: 70). While both parents stressed the importance of educa­ tion, Marian Robinson noted: “More important, even, than learning to read and write was to teach them to think” (quoted in Collins, 2008). However, being very bright in a neigh­ borhood that was predominantly poor and underachieving was a balancing act for young Michelle. She learned at an early age “that if I’m not going to get my butt kicked every day after school, I can’t flaunt my intelligence in front of peers who are strug­ gling with a whole range of things … you’ve got to be smart without acting smart” (quoted in Mundy, 2009: 49). Fraser and Marian eventually put both of their children in schools outside of their neighborhood. Michelle applied to and was accepted at Whitney Young High School, a competitive magnet high school built after the 1968 riots following Martin Luther King, Jr.’s assassination. The journey to school took her an hour and a half in commuting time. At Whitney Young she was a very focused and serious student. She questioned her teachers, and even “badgered” them about her grades (Winfrey, 2007). She also “did a

lot of student government” (Bow Wow and Chante, 2013), because it could be done during the school day and did not interfere with her long commute. She served as senior class treasurer and was admitted to the National Honor Society. She was popular and made friends with chil­ dren from some well‐known Chicago fami­ lies, including Santita Jackson, Jesse’s Jackson’s daughter and herself a member of the class of 1981 (Mundy, 2009: 63–64). Michelle Obama has commented that at Whitney Young she learned to keep trying: “I’ve never been great at standardized tests, so when I didn’t do as well as I hoped on my SATs, I learned how to respond to setbacks” (The Beacon, 2013). Michelle’s high school years took place against the backdrop of Fraser Robinson’s worsening multiple sclerosis. Her father’s struggle and the positive way in which he responded left a huge imprint on her life and instilled in her a penchant for planning, organization, and control. As Barack Obama later reflected, their lives had been “carefully circumscribed … with even the smallest out­ ing carefully planned to avoid problems or awkwardness” (B. Obama, 2008a: 331). With her parents’ encouragement, she applied to Princeton, where her brother was already attending. Though discouraged by some of her teachers and counselors on account of her test scores, she was confident thanks to her parents’ belief in her and because her brother was there in case she needed support; in any case, if he could go to Princeton and succeed, so could she—she felt (M. Obama, 2009). She would pay for college with a combination of loans, grants, scholarships, and financial assistance from her parents. Michelle Robinson entered college at the age of seventeen, in 1981; she was one of 94 African American students in a class of  1,141. Princeton was a much different environment from the vibrant, diverse, and supportive one at Whitney Young. In the early 1980s it was at the forefront of higher



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educational institutions wrestling with how to consider race in the college admission process, in light of the 1978 US Supreme Court decision in Regents of the University of California v. Bakke. The Bakke decision struck down racial quotas in the college admission process but encouraged colleges to remain racially sensitive in their admis­ sions process (Zimmerman, 2012). This ruling meant that higher education institu­ tions could use affirmative action to con­ sider race as one of many factors in admissions, but race alone could not be a deciding factor for admission. Many people have said that Michelle benefitted from Princeton’s consideration of race; her staff has responded that Michelle felt she had an edge because her brother was a star athlete and she benefitted from being a “legacy” applicant (Wolffe, 2010). Probably both these factors were at work; but in any event she proved herself more than competent at handling the course work. While Princeton encouraged minority applicants, the school was also considered the most conservative in the Ivy League with its preppy environment, eating clubs, and upper‐income students. Michelle’s col­ lege friend and roommate Angela Acree said that Princeton “was a very sexist, segregated place” (Collins, 2008). Michelle shared her experience with students at T. C. Williams High School in Alexandria, Virginia: Neither of my parents graduated from col­ lege, so when I got to campus as a fresh­ man, I’ll admit I was a little overwhelmed. The first night I slept with my legs sticking out past the end of the sheets … But here’s the thing, I may not have had the right sheets, but I learned pretty quickly that I had what it took to succeed in college. (M. Obama, 2013)

Michelle’s first roommate, Catherine Donnelly, was a white student from Louisiana. When Catherine told her mother about Michelle, Mrs. Donnelly wanted her to change roommates, and she eventually

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did (Jacobs, 2008). But Michelle soon made friends with other black students and found a home at the university’s Third World Center, which provided black and minority students with a place to socialize as an alter­ native to the eating clubs. Lauren Robinson Brown, one of Michelle’s friends, said of this time: “We [Blacks] ate together. We partied together. We were each others’ sup­ port system” (Jacobs, 2008). Michelle majored in sociology with a minor in African American studies. Her 66‐page senior the­ sis, which some conservatives criticized in the 2008 campaign for proposing “radical” and “racist” ideas (Nelson, 2013), exam­ ined “various attitudes of Black Princeton alumni in their present state and as they are perceived by the alumni to have changed over time” (M. Robinson, 1985: 1). Michelle surveyed a sample of 400 African American graduates to measure their level of connection with the black community before, during, and after Princeton. The major conclusion was that they “tended to identify with Blacks during Princeton in every measured respect. However, after Princeton this identification decreased dra­ matically” (1985: 53). Michelle saw the value of her study in the exploration of how, “as more Blacks begin attending predomi­ nantly White universities[,] … their experi­ ences in these universities affect their future attitudes” (1985: 1–2). The thesis not only fulfilled an academic requirement, but served as part of her iden­ tity search. One section defined her concept of black culture: Elements of Black culture which make it unique from White culture such as its music, its language, the struggles and a ‘consciousness’ shared by its people may be attributed to the injustices and oppres­ sions suffered by this race of people which are not comparable to the experiences of any other race of people through this country’s history. (M. Robinson, 1985: 54)

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Charles Ogletree, a Harvard Law School professor who would later be a mentor to both Obamas, reflected on Michelle’s thesis: The question was whether I retain my identity given by my African‐American parents, or whether the education from an elite university has transformed me into something different … By the time she got to Harvard she had answered the question. She could be both brilliant and black. (Quoted in Jacobs, 2008)

Michelle graduated cum laude from Princeton in 1985, with a BA in sociology, and that fall was accepted and enrolled at Harvard Law School, financing her educa­ tion primarily through loans. She entered law school with more self‐ confidence than she had four years earlier, on entering Princeton. She became an activ­ ist on the two major issues of the time: hir­ ing more women and minority faculty, and changing the traditional Socratic method of teaching law to a new approach, called criti­ cal legal studies. This style of teaching included consideration of key societal and racial changes that affect the law, and used a teaching style that encouraged more class­ room discussion. In her last year she wrote an article entitled “Minorities and Women Law Professors: A Comparison of Teaching Styles” (M. Robinson, 1988) and partici­ pated in a sit‐in. She was a member of sev­ eral organizations, including the Black Law School Students Association and Gannett House, a legal aid bureau, where she worked twenty hours a week for indigent clients. After graduation in 1988, however, Michelle did not work in a legal aid or other activist organization; instead she accepted a corporate law position as a junior associate in the marketing and intellectual property group at Sidley Austin in Chicago, where she had interned during the summer of her second year at Harvard. In taking this job, she was also going to her home city, which had always been her parents’ hope. Michelle

worked on teams that represented AT&T and Union Carbide and on trademark issues dealing with Barney toys and merchandise. One of the Sidley partners said that she made a “very positive impression” on Union Carbide’s counsel. However, the head of the marketing group, Quincy White, found Michelle to be easily dissatisfied with her work. “She at one point went over my head and complained that I wasn’t giving her enough interesting stuff … I couldn’t give her something that would meet her sense of ambition to change the world” (Mundy, 2009: 102–103). Michelle would later reflect on her few years with Sidley, saying: “I met people who thought this was a good life. But were peo­ ple waking up just bounding out of bed to get to work? No” (Wolffe, 2010). By far the most important, life‐changing event for Michelle at Sidley Austin hap­ pened in the summer of 1989. She was assigned to advise and mentor a young sum­ mer associate, Harvard first‐year law student Barack Obama. The new summer intern was three years older than Michelle. After grad­ uation from Columbia University, Barack had moved to Chicago to be a community organizer before going to law school. Michelle remembered that she heard all this “buzz about a hotshot first‐year law student from Harvard and everyone … from the head of the firm on down talking about how brilliant he was” (Malveaux, 2009). She found several things odd about him: his name, that he grew up in Hawaii, and that he was from a biracial family. Upon first meeting Michelle, Barack thought she was “beautiful” (Malveaux, 2008). She liked the fact that he was taller than she was (he was 6’2” to her 5’11”) and cuter than his drug­ store photo. They went out to lunch that day and she “found him intriguing in every way that you can imagine.” Barack immediately wanted to date her, but Michelle resisted: she did not think it was proper, since she was his advisor. She was, however, very impressed by his desire



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to help his community and improve the world. She went to a church to observe one of his community organizing sessions, where the audience consisted mainly of poor African Americans. She was struck by how well he spoke and by his message: “The world as it is, and the world as it should be” (Wolffe, 2010). Finally, Michelle agreed to go out. For their first date Barack took her to the Chicago Art Institute, to the Spike Lee movie Do the Right Thing, and to a drink on the ninety‐ninth floor of the John Hancock building. Michelle “was sold” (Malveaux, 2009). When she introduced him to her family, Barack was struck by their close and supportive nature. Her par­ ents were also impressed, though Marian admitted later to having some qualms about the relationship: “I guess that I worry about race mixing because of the difficulties, not so much for prejudice or anything. It’s very hard” (Mundy, 2009: 110). After the summer was over, Barack went back to Harvard to continue working on his law degree and the couple began a long‐distance relationship. At Christmas time, Michelle went to Hawaii to meet Barack’s family—his mother Ann Dunham Soetoro, his grand­ parents Stanley and Madelyn “Toot” Dunham, and his half‐sister, Maya. His grandmother, a former bank vice president with a high school education, had a more practical nature, while his mother, with a PhD in anthropology, was more of a dreamer. Both women liked Michelle on meeting her—but for different reasons. Barack recalled that after their first meeting “Toot … described my bride‐to‐be as ‘a very sensible girl’” (B. Obama, 2004: 439). His mother, on the other hand, believed Michelle would support her vision for her son. She had urged Barack to dream high and “aim for the White House. If anyone had a shot at being the first Black presi­ dent, it was him” (Christopher Andersen, as cited in M. Obama, 2010).

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While Barack and Michelle continued their relationship, the loss of a close friend at a very young age and then of her father shook Michelle’s world and caused her to re‐e­xamine her life. In 1991 she decided to leave the corporate law world. Later on Michelle told a New York Times reporter: “I looked out at my neighborhood and sort of had an epiphany that I had to bring my skills to bear in the place that made me. I wanted to have a career motivated by pas­ sion and not just money” (Mundy, 2009: 116). In considering jobs with the city of Chicago, Michelle was concerned about working for the old Daley political machine, even though in 1983 Chicago had experi­ enced a major political change with the elec­ tion of its first black mayor, Harold Washington. He had died suddenly in his second term, however, and Richard Daley, the son of the former mayor (also Richard), succeeded him. While the city government remained more liberal under the younger Daley, it still retained some of the old politi­ cal machine structure, which concerned Michelle, reminding her of her father’s experience. Michelle thus hesitantly applied for a job with the city of Chicago. Her application ended up on the desk of Susan Sher, the assistant corporation counsel for the city of Chicago. Sher talked with Michelle, who told her that she did not want a lawyer’s job; she wanted to work in public service. Sher passed the application on to Valerie Jarrett, the deputy chief of staff to Daley, who interviewed Michelle and was extremely ­ impressed. Jarrett was ready to offer Michelle a job, but Michelle, who trusted her boyfriend’s judgment, wanted Barack to meet Jarrett and weigh in. The dinner meet­ ing would not only result in Michelle’s accepting a job as an assistant to the mayor, but also marked the beginning of the Obamas’ very close friendship and working relationship with Jarrett, who later joined them in the White House as the president’s senior advisor.

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Michelle then started her career in public service as an assistant to the mayor of Chicago. A year later she followed Jarrett, now head of Chicago’s department of plan­ ning and development, to become assistant commissioner in that office. Meanwhile Barack graduated from Harvard Law School in 1991 and joined a small civil rights law firm, Davis, Miner, Barnhill and Galland, in the Windy City. Since both now had jobs, Michelle pressed Barack on the subject of marriage, on which Barack possessed a somewhat Bohemian attitude. However, one night Barack took Michelle out to Gordon’s, a high‐class Chicago restaurant. During the dinner Michelle kept pressing Barack about marriage until “dessert” came—a plate with a box holding an engage­ ment ring. “That kind of shuts you up, doesn’t it?” Barack said, and Michelle remembers being “so shocked and sort of a little embarrassed because he did sort of shut me up” (Mundy, 2009: 114). They married on October 3, 1992 in Chicago’s Trinity United Church of Christ. Both their mothers attended, along with sib­ lings and other relatives. Their church pas­ tor, the Reverend Jeremiah A. Wright  Jr., officiated. Barack met Reverend Wright when he first lived in Chicago as a commu­ nity organizer. Wright had given a sermon entitled the “Audacity of Hope,” which focused on people who survived great tribu­ lations but still had hope owing to their faith; the sermon had moved Barack to tears. This connection with Wright, however, would become problematic during the 2008 campaign. Of their vows, Michelle observed: “Barack didn’t pledge riches, only a life that would be interesting. On that promise he delivered.” They moved into a small condo in Hyde Park, a South Side Chicago neigh­ borhood known for being well integrated and liberal and having a lot of young profes­ sionals—many of whom were the Obamas’ friends (Mundy, 2009: 114). In 1993 Michelle took a job as the execu­ tive director of a nonprofit organization,

Public Allies, which ran a leadership training program for people from diverse back­ grounds in order to strengthen their neigh­ borhoods and communities. Barack was on the board of directors of this national organ­ ization and, when the Chicago chapter needed an executive director, he thought of Michelle. He resigned from the board when she was hired. Michelle described her time at Public Allies as “one of the happiest times of my life” (Sony Pictures Television, Jeopardy, 2012). While Michelle was working at Public Allies, Barack Obama, still at his law firm, was busy writing Dreams from My Father. He also started teaching part‐time at the University of Chicago Law School. With his book finished in 1995, he decided to run for a state senate seat. Michelle was clearly hesi­ tant: “I married you because you’re cute and you’re smart, but this is the dumbest thing you could have ever asked me to do” (quoted in Kantor, 2009). She distrusted politics and wanted more time together. However, once he made up his mind, she supported his decision. He was elected in 1996 and served in the Illinois Senate from January 1997 until his election to a US Senate seat in 2004. Michelle left Public Allies in 1996, partly to find a less time‐intensive job, so they might start a family. She was hired by the University of Chicago as the associate dean of student services. The university had a long and uneven relationship with its neigh­ bors in Chicago’s South Side community. In fact, while Michelle had grown up near the university, she had never been on campus: “All the buildings have their back to the community. The university didn’t think kids like me existed” (quoted in Felsenthal, 2009). However, the school was beginning to develop a series of programs and initia­ tives to reach out to its neighbors. Michelle was a key part of their effort. During her period as an associate dean, from 1996 to 2002, she developed the University of Chicago Community Service Center.



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On the propitious day of July 4, 1998, Michelle’s wish for a baby was answered and Malia Ann Obama was born. In October that year Michelle started working part time for the University of Chicago in order to have more time with the baby. Barack, who was at home for the summer when Malia was born, went back to his busy schedule in the fall of work, the state senate and teach­ ing his classes at the university. Even though they had day‐time childcare, the couple were exhausted as they tried to balance careers and family time and pay off their stu­ dent debts. To add to the strain, in 2000, Barack decided to challenge sitting Representative Bobby Rush (D‐II) in the democratic pri­ mary—an ill‐fated move. But Barack was ambitious and went ahead, spending huge amounts of his time and money. He can­ didly described this difficult time in their marriage: Tired and stressed, we had little time for conversation, much less romance. … By the time Sasha was born [June 10, 2001]— just as beautiful, and almost as calm as her sister—my wife’s anger toward me seemed barely contained. “You only think about yourself,” she would tell me. “I never thought I’d have to raise a family alone” (B. Obama, 2008a: 340).

Michelle recalled: “There was an impor­ tant period of growth in our marriage. He was in the state senate, we had small kids and it was hard. I was struggling with figur­ ing out how I was going to make it work for me” (Winfrey, 2007: 9). She started work­ ing out in the early morning, and hired a housekeeper so she could concentrate at home on what she wanted to—being with the girls. Michelle learned to depend on support from her friends, neighbors, other mothers at the school, and, most of all, her own mother. Meanwhile her career flourished. She joined the University of Chicago Medical

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Center as executive director of community affairs in 2002 (see University of Chicago Medical Center, n.d.). There she worked for her old friend Susan Sher, now general counsel and a vice president at the University of Chicago’s Hospitals and Health System, as well as with Valerie Jarrett. Sher com­ mented on Obama: I have seen her in a meeting with the board of trustees giving a presentation. I have seen her with angry patients and commu­ nity residents. I have seen her talking down a 2‐year‐old in the middle of a temper tan­ trum. She can handle them all. (Winfrey, 2007)

By 2002, Barack had decided to run for the US Senate. He spoke at an antiwar rally at Chicago’s Federal Plaza in October, pro­ testing the impending invasion of Iraq in a speech that was well received and gave him a reputation for speaking his mind. During this period, Barack and Michelle developed many contacts and friends in Chicago who would assist Barack in achieving his political ambitions. In addition to Jarrett and Sher, the list included Martin Nesbitt, a business executive; Dr. Eric Whitaker; and John W. Rodgers, founder of the first black‐owned money management firm in the nation (Kantor, 2008). Before he could make the final decision to run for a senatorial seat, Barack had to get Michelle’s approval, which he did by assur­ ing her that he believed he could make a dif­ ference. Her response reflected her practical nature: “Whatever. We’ll figure it out. We’re not hurting. Go ahead … Maybe you’ll lose” (Mundy, 2009: 162–166). But Barack won the primary with 53 per cent of the vote, and for the first time Michelle began speaking at campaign events, emphasizing the economic difficulties that faced middle‐class Americans and her husband’s commitment to improve their opportunities. The biggest break in the campaign, and one that would begin Barack’s ascent to the

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presidency, came in the summer of 2004, when Senator John Kerry’s presidential campaign staff asked him to give the key­ note speech at the Democratic National Convention. Barack decided to base his speech around the phrase that had so moved him when he first heard the Reverend Jeremiah Wright—the audacity of hope— and make the optimism and resilience of the American people his main theme. This speech not only made him an overnight celebrity, but it was key in his winning a landslide victory for a US Senate seat against republican candidate Alan Keyes. As a US senator, Barack Obama became the highest ranking African American office­ holder in the country. While he flew back and forth between Chicago and Washington, Michelle stayed with the girls in a Georgian Revival home in Hyde Park purchased with the earnings from his book. In May 2005 she was promoted vice president for com­ munity and external affairs at the University of Chicago Hospitals. A story that Barack tells in The Audacity of Hope is revealing. He called Michelle in a good mood, to tell her about a bill he was co‐sponsoring with Senator Richard Lugar on restricting weap­ ons proliferation, and she cut him off, explaining: “We have ants … I found ants in the kitchen. And in the bathroom upstairs … I need you to buy some ant traps on your way home tomorrow. … Can you do that for me?” Barack responded that he would. Then he added: “I hung up the receiver, wondering if Ted Kennedy or John McCain bought ant traps on the way home from work” (B. Obama, 2008a: 326–327). Barack had not been in the Senate for long, when he began to think about run­ ning for the presidency in the next election. Some of his goals were to end the war in Iraq, to support legislation for universal health care, to address climate issues, and, most importantly, to champion the needs of the poor and of the middle class. Her brother Craig recounted Michelle’s hesi­ tancy: “Miche had a vision of her kids

growing up like she and I grew up, ensconced in this loving and caring atmos­ phere, with a sense of privacy and a normal family” (C. Robinson, 2010: 191). Michelle finally agreed, however, and, with her sup­ port, Barack now embarked on his historic campaign for the presidency of the United States. Dreaming Big: The 2008 Campaign On the sunny but bitterly cold morning of February 10, 2007, the Obama presidential campaign officially began in Springfield, Illinois. The setting, in front of the Old State Capitol, was the site of Abraham Lincoln’s “House Divided” speech of 1858. The 2008 campaign would be waged in a country divided once again by political ide­ ologies and still experiencing the effects of its history of slavery. The candidate came out to the sound of U2’s “City of Blinding Lights” and paced the stage, firing up the crowd of 16,000. Michelle and their daugh­ ters Malia and Sasha joined him for a few minutes of hand waving and hugs. Obama’s speech continued the 2004 keynote theme that “common hopes and common dreams still live. … That beneath all the differ­ ences of race and region, faith and station, we are one people” (B. Obama, 2007). That theme would be echoed in Michelle’s speeches as well. As loudspeakers blasted out Jackie Wilson’s 1967 hit “Your Love Keeps Lifting Me Higher and Higher,” Michelle returned to the stage and started the next step of her improbable journey, absorbing the crowd’s love by enthusiasti­ cally waving and wading into the throng. To make the campaign work for the entire family, Mrs. Obama took an unpaid leave and relied on her mother to look after the girls. She campaigned three or four days a week and tried to have as much normalcy as possi­ ble, noting that, “[w]hen I’m off the road, I’m going to Target to get toilet paper, I’m standing on soccer fields” (Brophy, 2009: 74).



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Whatever reluctance she had about politics, it was not evident when she was on the stump. Along with her appeal to women, African Americans and other minority v­ oters, she also helped in humanizing Barack Obama, making him sound and look like the person next door—not a mixed‐race, Ivy League‐educated community organizer and lawyer turned politician with an exotic name and past. A reporter for Time magazine commented that her success in connecting with audiences was due to her informal “of‐the‐cuff‐charm” and her “ability to relate to regular people” (Sittenfeld, 2008). The life stories of Michelle Robinson and Barack Obama differed vastly, but what the couple shared at the heart was their joint testimony to having achieved the American dream. It was this continuing belief in the dream that would motivate Michelle and inspire her audiences. She was honest about their struggles and spoke movingly of the larger obstacles facing women and minorities. As an African American woman seeking to enter a sorority of first ladies, Michelle Obama had to do more than sell her hus­ band; she was creating from scratch an image of a presidential wife, just as her hus­ band was creating one of a president. Being a “first” is always a challenge, but being the first African American first couple in a coun­ try with a history of racism required a meas­ ured rhetorical approach. One cultural scholar noted that her challenge as a black woman was “assuming an identity that is well‐received by the American voting pub­ lic.” She did this by weaving narratives throughout her speeches so as to “cultivate an identity that was both legible and palata­ ble to a broad American audience” (White, 2011: 1). Along with addressing her race and maintaining an image that balanced strength and approachability, Michelle Obama also had to contrast herself with another lawyer‐political wife—Hillary Clinton— who was her husband’s primary opponent. To meet the challenge, Mrs. Obama did

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what all good politicians do: she created identification with each audience. For her, this meant calling on the American dream, stressing the importance of family, and exhorting audiences to believe in their abil­ ity to change their own lives and in the power of their votes to change the country. When Larry King asked her about the impact of race, she replied: “The thing that I’ve always found and what makes me hope­ ful [especially in places with few Blacks] … is that where I connect with people is around values. It’s around the stories of my upbring­ ing” (CNN Larry King Live, 2008). Early in the primary campaign season, with Obama trailing Hillary Clinton among black voters, Michelle went to historically African American South Carolina State University in Orangeburg, South Carolina and made an eloquent case that the time to elect a black president was now. She asked her audience to support her husband “not because of the color of his skin … [but] because of the quality and consistency of his character.” She directly confronted the doubts that he could win or that America was ready for a black president. She exhorted them to get past “the bitter legacy of racism and discrimination and oppression in this country.” She was gratified that her hus­ band was doing well in largely white Iowa, noting: “It doesn’t matter if you’re black or white if you believe we need fundamental change in this country” (M. Obama, 2007). Throughout the campaign she was true to her outspoken and open nature. Campaign manager David Axelrod described her as “fundamentally honest—goes out there, speaks her mind, jokes. She doesn’t parse her words or select them with an antenna for political correctness” (Collins, 2008). Sometimes, though, her lack of self‐ monitoring led to missteps and an eventual recasting of her image. Her candor came through in an interview with Steve Kroft (2007) right after Obama declared his candidacy. She responded to a question about concerns for his safety by

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noting that “the realities are as a black man Barack can get shot going to the gas sta­ tion.” Her sense of humor was in play when she talked about how the girls wanted a dog and saw the White House as a way to get one, or when she invited Americans to give her a call if they saw Barack smoking because he had promised to quit. However, when she said that the girls did not want to get into bed with them in the morning because their father was “snorey and stinky,” and when she commented that he often forgot to put away the bread and butter, columnist Maureen Dowd accused her of undermin­ ing and emasculating her husband (Langley, 2008). Her response to the criticism was unflappable: What I’ve learned is that my humor doesn’t translate to print all the time. But usually when I’m speaking to a group, people understand what I’m trying to say, they get the humor, they understand the sarcasm, they get the joke. (Salny, 2008)

Her approval ratings plummeted, how­ ever, with remarks on February 18, 2008 in Milwaukee and Madison, Wisconsin. In Milwaukee she said: What we’ve learned over this year is that hope is making a comeback. It is making a comeback and let me tell you something, for the first time in my adult life, I am really proud of my country. Not just because Barack is doing well, but I think people are hungry for change. (Quoted in Just, 2008)

She made a nearly identical remark in Madison. There was a firestorm in the media, some calling her unpatriotic, whiney, angry, and not appreciative. Cindy McCain, the wife of the republican candidate John  McCain, responded: “I have, and always will be, proud of my country” (quoted in Just, 2008). The video played endlessly.

Conservatives were especially critical, many using terms that harkened back to the “angry black woman” stereotype, a label that has been repeatedly flung against Mrs. Obama (“Soledad O’Brien, Jodi Cantor Clash, March 14, 2012”). Bill O’Reilly’s comments had an overtly racial overtone: “I don’t want to go on a lynching party against Michelle Obama unless there’s evidence, hard facts, that say this is how the woman really feels” (Collins, 2008), Fox News called her “Obama’s baby mama” and the National Review called her “Mrs. Grievance” (Powell and Kantor, 2008). The Obama campaign put out this response: “Of course Michelle is proud of her country, which is why she and Barack talk constantly about how their story wouldn’t be possible in any other nation on Earth” (CBS News, 2008). Barack also responded directly, saying that the com­ ments had been taken out of context and clarifying: “What she meant was, this is the first time that she’s been proud of the poli­ tics of America, because she’s pretty cynical about the political process, and with good reason” (CBS News, 2008). Michelle also tried to clarify her comment: “For the first time in my lifetime, I’m seeing people roll­ ing up their sleeves in a way that I haven’t seen … that’s the source of the pride that I was talking about” (CBS News, 2008). Damage control aside, for most people it was clear that she meant what she said. She was voicing her pride in an America that had evolved enough to accept the idea of an African American as a viable candidate for the president. Her proof was the most enthusiastic and engaged, racially diverse electorate that she had ever seen. However, the comment was a serious misstep. The best analysis was given by First Lady Laura Bush, who responded: “I think she probably meant I’m more proud. That’s what she really meant … You have to be really careful in what you say because everything you say is looked at and in many cases miscon­ strued” (Sullivan, 2008).



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What further exacerbated the reaction to Michelle’s remarks is that they occurred amid the uproar over Reverend Jeremiah Wright, the Obamas’ long‐time pastor at Trinity United Church of Christ. In March 2008, ABC News released some of the inflammatory statements Reverend Wright had made about the United States’ poor treatment of blacks, about whites, and about the country’s accountability for 9/11 (Ross and El‐Buri, 2008). In the resulting uproar, questions were raised about the Obamas’ dedication to a man whose message contra­ dicted their call for unity. In response, on March 11 Barack delivered in Philadelphia one of his most eloquent speeches, called “A More Perfect Union,” which addressed the issue of race and also Wright’s com­ ments (B. Obama, 2008b). He defined himself as a postracial candidate, discussed the historical treatment of African Americans trying to give context to Wright’s anger, and also condemned Wright’s statements. The speech was well received and for a while the controversy died down, but Wright con­ tinued to make provocative statements. Finally the Obamas resigned their member­ ship in the church. In response to a question on the issue, Michelle Obama’s response was not the traditional one for an aspiring first lady: Regardless of the circumstances, this is a conversation that needs to happen, that has to happen and it hasn’t happened in this country in my lifetime. … It’s going to require moving out of our comfort zones, away from our divisions. Letting go of our fears. (Carpenter, 2008)

The combination of the Wisconsin and Wright remarks resulted in a July 28, 2008 New Yorker cover headed the “Politics of Fear” that satirized her as a gun‐toting Angela Davis look‐alike, with Barack dressed in Muslim garb. Both were depicted as grin­ ning, fist‐bumping terrorists who had invaded the White House. The cover caused

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a controversy of its own, because, although a satire, it was in such poor taste that even Senator John McCain criticized the carica­ ture as both irresponsible and fanning incendiary stereotypes. The controversies caused Michelle and the Obama campaign to reexamine what her role should be and how to restore her image. Susan Sher said: “She was hurt at the idea that it was possible she wouldn’t be an asset” (Kantor, 2009). While she continued to talk about many of the same issues, from that point forward her tone and presentation were softer. Her points were less aggressive, made more posi­ tively and with more humor. Her “reinvention” is best exemplified by her co‐hosting appearance on ABC’s The View after her husband had locked up the nomination. She used the occasion to emphasize her role as a mother and her working‐class background; she talked about eating bacon for breakfast, disliking panty­ hose, and her mother’s gambling prowess. But she didn’t shy away from questions about the “pride” comment by reasserting that her story was possible only in America. In a very savvy move, she thanked First Lady Laura Bush for her supportive comment and indicated that she was taking lessons from Mrs. Bush’s approach, which didn’t “add fuel to the fire.” The off‐the‐rack Donna Ricco sundress she wore from White House/Black Market became a best seller and further softened her image by showing her feminine side. During the summer months, she contin­ ued with the commonplaces that still reso­ nate with her audiences now, when she is the first lady. By the time of the convention, her approval ratings had climbed to 55 per cent from the low 40s in the winter (Jones, 2014). On August 25, 2008 she followed the path of several recent candidates’ wives and spoke on the opening night of the Democratic National Convention in Denver. The speech helped her to define Barack Obama and what he would deliver. She used the speech to further cultivate her softer side.

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Her brother Craig introduced her, and her daughters joined her on stage after the speech, to say hello to the nominee who joined remotely from Kansas City. The narratives she presented were famil­ iar. She was a South Side Chicago girl from a loving, traditional family that “struggled to pay the bills,” and Barack was the son of a single, talented mother who “scrimped and saved.” They had achieved the American dream and created their own loving family. It was “the story of men and women gath­ ered in churches and union halls and high school gyms—people who stood up and marched and risked everything they had— refusing to settle, determined to mold our future into the shape of our ideals.” She called the desire to dream of something bet­ ter “the thread that connects our hearts.” She asserted: “Barack will finally bring the change we need” (M. Obama, 2008). Reactions were generally favorable. Andrew Sullivan, in The Atlantic’s blog, called it “[o]ne of the best, most moving, intimate, humble, and beautiful speeches I’ve heard from a convention platform” (Sullivan, 2008). The speech accomplished what the campaign intended, but it also highlighted the tightrope that an educated modern political wife with a career of her own must walk, especially if she had aspirations to be the first lady, with all that is expected in this role. Writing for the New York Times, Roger Cohen expressed sentiments shared by other convention commentators: Yes, it was touching, but it was also a little cloying. Again I found my mind going back to South Carolina where Michelle’s heels were higher, outfit bolder, and tone more forthright. Since then, with her pride in America questioned, she’d clearly been cho­ reographed toward the demure in the inter­ ests of placing family in the mainstream. (Cohen, 2008)

By the fall, Mrs. Obama had learned how to stay on the tightrope with safe themes, sensible heels, and soft media interviews.

Her positive ratings continued to rise. Her contacts with military families grew, too, as she listened to the stories of the men and women who were fighting the two wars her husband promised to end and to the families that were left behind. The impact of those experiences would shape her agenda when she moved to Washington. The “big dream” had become a reality and Michelle Obama had at least four more years to share her experiences, her wisdom, and her passion with the nation.

References Australian Women’s Weekly. 2010. “Michelle Obama.” Australian Women’s Weekly, 80th Birthday Issue. http://www.smoothfm.com. au/lifestyle/michelle‐obama (accessed June 10, 2014). The Beacon. 2013. “Q&A: The First Lady Michelle Obama.” The Beacon 39 (8): 1. Whitney M. Young Magnet High School. http://www.wyoung.org/ourpages/newspa per/44%20June%202013.pdf (accessed November 7, 2015). Betts, K. 2011. Everyday Icon: Michelle Obama and the Power of Style. New York: Clarkson Potter. (Kindle edition.) Bond, A. H. 2012. Michelle Obama: A Biography. Santa Barbara, CA: Greenwood. Bow Wow, and K. Chante. 2013. “106 & Park.” Interview of the First Lay by Bow Wow and Keshia Chante. Black Entertainment Television Studios, November 19. http://www.white house.gov/the‐press‐office/2013/11/19/ interview‐first‐lady‐bow‐wow‐and‐keshia‐ chante (accessed June 9, 2014). Brophy, D. B. 2009. Michelle Obama: Meet the First Lady. New York: Harper Collins e‐books. Brown, C. 2012. “Marketing Michelle: Mommy Politics and Post‐Feminism in the Age of Obama.” Comparative American Studies 10 (2–3): 239–254. Carpenter, M. 2008. “Michelle Obama Wows Them at CMU.” Pittsburgh Post‐Gazette, April 3. http://www.post‐gazette.com/news/ politics‐pa‐primary/2008/04/03/Michelle‐ O b a m a ‐ w o w s ‐ t h e m ‐ a t ‐ C M U /­s t o r i e s /​ 200804030483 (accessed June 14, 2014).



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CBS News. 2008. “Michelle Obama Retools ‘I’m Proud’ Remark.” CBS News, February 20. www. cbsnews.com/news/michelle‐obama‐retools‐ im‐proud‐remark (accessed June 3, 2014). Collins, L. 2008. “The Other Obama: Michelle Obama and the Politics of Candor.” The New Yorker, March 10. http://www.newyorker. com/reporting/2008/03/10/080310fa_ fact_collins?currentPage=all (accessed, June 10, 2014). CNN Larry King Live. 2008. “Interview with Michelle Obama.” Aired February 11. http://transcripts.cnn.com/TRANS CRIPTS/0802/11/lkl.01.html (accessed June 3, 2014). Cohen, R. 2008. “Obama’s from Main Street, Ain’t He?” New York Times, August 27. http://www.nytimes.com/2008/08/27/ opinion/27iht‐edcohen.3.15683367.html (accessed June 30, 2014). C‐SPAN. 2014. “First Lady Michelle Obama.” February 10. http://www.c‐span.org/ video/?314542–1/first‐ladies‐michelle‐ obama (accessed June 9, 2014). Felsenthal, C. 2009. “The Making of a First Lady.” Chicago Magazine, February. http:// www.chicagomag.com/Chicago‐Magazine/ Febr uar y‐2009/The‐Making‐of‐a‐First‐ Lady/ (accessed June 10, 2014). Forbes. 2014. “The World’s 100 Most Powerful Women.” Forbes. http://www.forbes.com/ power‐women (accessed June 14, 2014). Howard, C. 2013. The World’s Most Powerful Women 2013: Forbes,” May 22. http://www. huffingtonpost.com/2013/05/22/most‐ powerful‐women‐2013‐forbes_n_3315369. html (accessed June 14, 2014). Howel, J. 2009. “Recasting Femininity within the American Dream: Michelle Obama’s 2008 Democratic National Convention Address.” Paper presented at the National Communication Association, November, Chicago. Jacobs, S. 2008. “Learning to Be Michelle Obama.” Boston.com, June 15. http:// www.boston.com/news/nation/­a rticles/ 2008/06/15/learning_to_be_michelle_ obama/?page=full (accessed June 10, 2014). Jones, J. M. 2014. “Michelle Obama Remains Popular in the US.” Gallup Politics, May 30. www.gallup.com/poll/154952/Michelle‐ Obama‐Remains‐Popular.aspx (accessed June 3, 2014).

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Nelson, S. A. 2013. “The Angry Black Woman, Michelle Obama, and Me.” The Daily Beast, June 13. http://www.thedailybeast.com/ witw/ar ticles/2013/06/06/the‐angr y‐ black‐women‐michelle‐obama‐and‐me.html (accessed October 18, 2014). Obama, B. 2004. Dreams from My Father: A Story of Race and Inheritance. New York: Large Print Random House. Obama, B. 2007. “Transcript of Barack Obama’s Speech.” CBS News, February 10. http:// www.cbsnews.com/news/transcript‐of‐barack‐ obamas‐speech (accessed June 13, 2014). Obama, B. 2008a. The Audacity of Hope: Thoughts on Reclaiming the American Dream. New York: Vintage Books. Obama, B. 2008b. “Transcript: Barack Obama’s Speech on Race.” NPR, March 11. http:// www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?​ ­storyId=88478467 (accessed June 14, 2014). Obama, B. 2008c. “Transcript: ‘This Is Your Victory,’ Says Obama.” CNN, November 4. http://edition.cnn.com/2008/POLI TICS/11/04/obama.transcript (accessed, June 11, 2014). Obama, M. 2007. “Michelle Obama: A Challenge to Overcome.” November 25. http://blackwomenforobama.wordpress. com/2007/11/25/michelle‐obama‐a‐ challenge‐to‐overcome (accessed June 1, 2014). Obama, M. 2008. “Michelle Obama’s Speech at the National Democratic Convention.” New York Times, August 25. http://elections. nytimes.com/2008/president/conventions/ videos/20080825_OBAMA_SPEECH.html (accessed June 14, 2014). Obama, M. 2009. “Remarks by the First Lady at the Washington Math and Science Tech Public Charter High School Graduation.” The White House, June 3. http://www. whitehouse.gov/the‐press‐office/remarks‐ first‐lady‐washington‐math‐and‐science‐tech‐ public‐charter‐high‐school‐grad (accessed June 10, 2014). Obama, M. 2011. “Michelle Obama Keynote Address at Young African Women Leaders Forum.” June 24. https://www.whitehouse. gov/photos‐and‐video/video/​2011/06/24/ first‐lady‐michelle‐obama‐addresses‐young‐ african‐women‐leaders (accessed December 5, 2015).

Obama, M. 2012. American Grown: The Story of the White House Kitchen Garden and Gardens Across America. New York: Crown. Obama, M. 2013. “First Lady Michelle Obama: ‘I’m First.’” The White House, November. http://www.whitehouse.gov/blog/2014/ 02/05/first‐lady‐michelle‐obama‐i‐m‐first (accessed June 13, 2014). Powell, M., and J. Kantor. 2008. “After Attacks, Michelle Looks for a New Introduction.” New York Times, June 18. http://www. nytimes.com/2008/06/18/us/ politics/18michelle.html?pagewanted=all&_ r=0 (accessed June 13, 2014). Regents of the University of California v. Bakke, 438 US 265 (1978). Robinson, C. 2010. A Game of Character: A Family Journey from Chicago’s Southside to the Ivy League and Beyond. New York: Gotham. Robinson, M. 1985. “Princeton‐Educated Blacks and the Black Community.” http://www. politico.com/pdf/080222_MOPrinceton Thesis_1–251.pdf (accessed June 11, 2014). Robinson, M. 1988. “Minorities and Women Law Professors: A Comparison of Teaching Styles.” hhtp//dailycaller.com12012/15/in‐ harvardessay (accessed June 28, 2014). Ross, B., and R. El‐Buri. 2008. “Obama’s Pastor: God Damn America, US to Blame for 9/11.” ABC News, March 13. http://abcnews.go. com/Blotter/DemocraticDebate/ story?id=4443788 (accessed June 14, 2014). Salny S. 2008. “Michelle Obama Thrives in Campaign Trenches.” New York Times, February 14. www.nytimes.com/2008/02/14/ us/politics/14michelle.html?​pagewanted=all (accessed June 13, 2014). Sienna College Research Institute/C‐SPAN. 2014. “Siena College and C‐SPAN Announce the Rankings of the First Ladies of the United States (FLOTUS).” http://www.prweb. com/releases/2014/02/prweb11580318. htm (accessed June 3, 2014). Sittenfeld, C. 2008. “What Michelle Obama Would Bring to the White House.” Time mag­ azine, February 27. http://content.time. com/time/nation/article/0,8599,​1845156– 2,00.html (accessed June 13, 2014). Skiba, K. 2010. “Michelle Obama Credits Grandpa, Dad for Love of Jazz, Arts.” Chicago Tribune, October 17. http://articles.­chicago tribune.com/2010‐10‐17/entertainment/



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ct‐talk‐michelle‐obama‐harpers‐bazaar 20101017_1_michelle‐obama‐marian‐robinson‐ malia‐and‐sasha (accessed December 5, 2015). Slevin, P. 2015. Michelle Obama: A Life. New York: Alfred A. Knopf. Sony Pictures Television. 2012. “Jeopardy.” June 20. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F_ IXir‐K5w0 (accessed June 10, 2014; video no longer available). Sullivan, A. 2008. “The Daily Dish.” August 25. w w w. t h e a t l a n t i c . c o m / d a i l y ‐ d i s h / archive/2008/08/wow/212539 (accessed June 3, 2014). Swarns, R. L. 2013. American Tapestry: The Story of the Black, White and Multiracial Ancestors of Michelle Obama. New York: Amistad/HarperCollins. Tate, S. 2012. “Michelle Obama’s Arms: Race, Respectability, and Class Privilege.” Comparative American Studies 10 (2–3): 226–238. University of Chicago Medical Center. n.d. “The University of Chicago and the University of Chicago Medical Center Factsheet: Michelle Obama.” http://www.uchospitals.edu/pdf/ uch_018012.pdf (accessed June 13, 2014).

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Chapter Forty

First Lady Michelle Obama: The American Dream Endures, II Diana B. Carlin and Nancy Kegan Smith

“I Try to Make It Me”: Michelle Obama’s White House Years Michele Obama is one of the most written about and reported on first ladies. While not definitive, a 2015 Google search is a good indication of media and social media coverage for very recent first ladies. A search with her name produced 85,600,000 entries of articles, interviews, photos, videos, blogs, and countless other types of references. This compares to Laura Bush’s 58,700,000 and Barbara Bush’s 53,200,000 entries. While the second presidential campaign of former First Lady, Senator, and Secretary of State Hillary Clinton’s has now taken her to 114,000,000 hits, Michelle Obama’s numbers are particularly striking for a current first lady and are reflective of her unprecedented use of social media and television to promote her message. (These figures are based on a Google search conducted on December 4, 2015.) Just as her husband wrote new pages in campaign playbooks through the use of twenty‐first‐century social media and Internet technology, Mrs. Obama is doing the same in her outreach to  the American people. She is found on

Facebook (with over twelve million likes), Twitter, Pinterest, Instagram, and a White House blog. She eschews the influence of popular culture when it distracts young people—including her daughters—from ­ their studies. However, she uses it to her advantage, through appearances on popular talk shows such as Ellen DeGeneres, Jimmy Fallon, Oprah Winfrey, David Letterman, The View, and Tonight, in cameos on Sesame Street, iCarly, The Biggest Loser, Nashville, and Parks & Recreation, and through her appearance at the 2013 Oscars. It is difficult to walk past any magazine rack in a grocery store, bookstore, or airport newsstand and not see her visage gracing a cover. She continues to prefer soft media over mainstream news interviews. And in all of this she remains largely out of the political fray, using her own platform to discuss her priorities, and seldom her husband’s. Historian Richard Norton Smith (2009) made this point about first ladies: Whatever their differences in style and influence, each holds up a mirror to her times. To know these women is to understand the changing role of women in America. From

A Companion to First Ladies, First Edition. Edited by Katherine A. S. Sibley. © 2016 John Wiley & Sons, Inc. Published 2016 by John Wiley & Sons, Inc.



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a place in the receiving line to a seat in the Cabinet Room, First Ladies have become important leaders of our nation. (Smith, 2009: 4)

Michelle Obama’s story mirrors a changing American society as well. As the first African American woman to occupy the White House, she brings her biography and race to bear on what she promotes and even on why she let her husband talk her into a presidential bid. Because his political career before the presidency was relatively short, her political experience was limited by comparison with that of many of her predecessors. There were even reports that she considered delaying her move to the White House until after the girls finished school in 2009. Regardless of her limited time as a political wife, she demonstrated throughout the campaign that she was a new type of political wife and that she would be creating a new role model as first lady.

The First Year On January 20, 2009 Michelle Obama entered the White House as the first lady of the United States and reflected her shock at the abrupt move: “Nothing prepares you for this role. I mean, it is so s­ tartling that the transition of power in the United States happens so quickly that you don’t have access to the house until the President takes the oath of office” (M. Obama and L. Bush, 2013). When entering the White House under very different circumstances, Lady Bird Johnson expressed a similar reaction: “I feel as if I am s­ uddenly on stage for a part I never rehearsed” (Smith, 2009: 3). The first lady announced that her first priority was to be “mom in chief” and her early focus would be on settling her children into as “normal” a life as possible. She was protective of Malia’s and Sasha’s privacy and would share the sentiments expressed by Jackie Kennedy, who said: “If you bungle

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raising your children, I don’t think whatever else you do matters very much,” and “I don’t want my children brought up by nurses and Secret Service men” (Anthony, 1990: 600). To effect a smooth transition for the girls, she asked her mother, Marian Robinson, to live with them. After looking at schools, the Obamas decided that the girls would attend Sidwell Friends, the same private school that Chelsea Clinton attended. Michelle ensured that her husband keep the promise that the girls would get a dog; and, after a long period of guessing what kind, they decided on a Portuguese water dog, Bo. This gift from Senator Ted Kennedy joined them in August of 2009. When Laura Bush took Michelle Obama on a tour of the White House the week after the election, there was a very poignant moment. Mrs. Bush showed Mrs. Obama a special window in a dressing room used by first ladies that provided a view into the Oval Office. Laura Bush showed her this window, so she could watch her husband in the same way Laura had been shown the window by Hillary Clinton, who in turn had been shown it by Barbara Bush. The window epitomized the long hours and isolation that a first lady spends in her supporting role (Kantor, 2012: 33). Michelle Obama knew that in this role of key supporter to her husband she would have an agenda, but she rolled it out slowly. She did not want to interfere with the president’s goals, and she also intended that everything she did be considered as “value‐ added” (Cherlin, 2014). She guarded her official time very carefully, saving time to focus on her children. She would be a firm, hands‐on manager, in a way that reflected her temperament and her law degree. As her first chief of staff she chose Jackie Norris, who had been a key Iowa adviser during the campaign. Norris soon left, however, and was replaced after only four months by Susan Sher, Michelle’s longtime friend and former boss. Jodi Kantor’s (2012) The Obamas ­portrays Mrs. Obama’s first year as a ­challenging one.

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Kantor suggests that she felt too often isolated, ignored, or condescended to by the West Wing staff and frustrated that she was not effectively involved. However, in an interview with Good Housekeeping, Michelle was positive: “Living here [at the White House] is a lot of fun, primarily because the people who work here have a warmth and way about them; they make a family feel special.” Still, she worried about her kids, even as she enjoyed the energy and excitement she got from enthusiastic audiences (Ellis, 2010). Most first ladies have experienced tension between the East Wing and the West Wing. First Lady Betty Ford commented that, “if the West Wing is the mind of the nation, then the East Wing is the heart” (Smith, 2009: 3). This saying sums up the strain between a president and a spouse who is ­trying to fulfill public expectations for an unelected and ill‐defined job. Some of the adjustment challenges that Michelle faced

and that are mentioned in Kantor’s (2012) book revolved around fashion, redecorating, scheduling, inclusion, and information on policy issues. Kantor also discusses the personality differences between then key presidential advisors Rahm Emmanuel and Ronald Gibbs and the first lady and her staff. These tensions eased somewhat in time, as these men moved on, and thanks to Sher’s efforts of establishing better communication with the West Wing concerning Michelle’s agenda. While views differ, it is clear that there were many successes in that first year and only a few missteps. Overall, the public perception was positive and Michelle’s ratings went as high as 72 per cent. On a cold day in March 2009 she planted a vegetable garden with the help of local school children, in order to encourage Americans to eat healthy fresh vegetables (see Figure 40.1). The same month she appeared on the cover

Figure 40.1  The First Lady starting the White House vegetable garden, March 3, 2009. Source: White House Photo Office.



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of Vogue magazine. This appearance caused a debate within the White House, even though 13 other first ladies had appeared in the magazine, beginning with Lou Henry Hoover. The disagreement was mainly with members of the West Wing staff, who felt that the cover would project an image that was too high‐fashion‐ and money‐oriented. To this, according to one former staff member, the first lady emailed back without mincing her words: “If you guys can’t figure out how to manage this so that it’s not a negative, then I obviously have the wrong team.” She recast the value of appearing on the magazine cover by saying: “There are young black women across this country and I want them to see a black woman on the cover of Vogue.” She chose her clothes, as always, and came through in the photos as confident, stylish, and warm (Kantor, 2012: 91–92). Most importantly, in this highly visible role she served as an example for young African Americans. Throughout her life she had recognized the importance of mentoring and, as first lady, she saw the Vogue piece as permitting a wider audience to see and identify with her as a successful role model. The Vogue feature, presented by the magazine’s longtime editor Andre Leon Talley, was a big success for Michelle Obama. On the March cover she appeared in a relaxed posture, in a Jason Wu magenta silk sheath, under the description “The First Lady the World Has Been Waiting for.” Talley portrayed her as “mom in chief” and noted her desire to open up the White House in a “spirit of diversity and inclusion,” which involved expanding its entertainment program so as to contain more facets of American culture and bringing in more youth (Talley, 2009). Valerie Jarrett added her voice to the article on the theme of inclusion of all Americans: “That’s what she’s done throughout her whole life”— “embrace[d] all ethnicities” (Talley, 2009). A poignant moment came during the following month, when Mrs. Obama made ­

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remarks at the unveiling of the bust of Sojourner Truth, an abolitionist and a former slave at the US Capitol Visitors Center Emancipation Hall. She joined two other women who spoke on the day of ceremony— House Speaker Nancy Pelosi and Secretary of State Hillary Rodham Clinton—each one of whom had broken the “glass ceiling.” Speaking with great emotion, Mrs. Obama remarked: we are all here because, as my husband says time and time again, we stand on the shoulders of giants like Sojourner Truth. … I hope that [she] would be proud to see me, a descendant of slaves, serving as the First Lady of the United States.” (M. Obama, 2009a)

Yet along with having such high points, the first lady discovered that even the most carefully planned events can go awry. A White House state dinner in honor of the prime minister of India, planned by the first lady and the White House Social Office and featuring a new florist and a guest chef who prepared an appropriately meatless menu, became an embarrassing example of lax security. After getting through two security checkpoints, one of which required photo identification, three uninvited dinner guests were able to meet and take photos of themselves with President Obama. This breach resulted in a congressional investigation that pointed to problems in the procedures of both the secret service and the social office. President Obama summarized the event when he told CBS’s “60 Minutes Program”: “I was unhappy with everybody who was involved in the process … it was a screw up” (DeFrank, 2009). Another misstep was Michelle’s response to her first invitation to attend the annual Congressional Club luncheon in April of 2009. The luncheon is a Washington tradition in honor of the first lady, and it is hosted by congressional spouses. Mrs. Obama desired to cut down on social events, and she did not have warm feelings toward Congress. She

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reluctantly agreed to go if the congressional spouses, along with her, would donate a day for volunteer work. Her hesitant response showed lack of appreciation for the importance of socializing in building helpful political connections. Worse, when she volunteered at a local foodbank with the congressional spouses, she showed up in a pair of Lanvin sneakers that cost $540.00 (Kantor, 2012). Nevertheless, this emphasis on v­ oluntarism, which she shared with other first ladies, underlined many of the successful activities and events in Michelle’s first year, which revolved around themes and causes that meant so much to her: the importance of good health and educational opportunities for children and support for military families. As her children settled in, she too became comfortable with her role as first lady, with serving as a role model, and with being at the president’s side to advance his agenda. Travel Since Edith Roosevelt accompanied Theodore to Panama, first ladies have traveled internationally both with and without their ­husbands. As a goodwill ambassador for her country, the first lady represents her husband’s commitment to allies and to policies, usually without wading into politics herself. Anita McBride, chief of staff to Laura Bush, suggested that “[t]here’s no better surrogate for a president overseas than their spouse” (Rampton, 2014). As her husband’s surrogate, Michelle Obama has followed in this tradition. She has also shown her more personal side during some of her foreign travel by including her girls, and sometimes her mother, in a mix of official and personal travel. From her first trip with her husband to the United Kingdom, France, Germany, and the Czech Republic in 2009 to her trip to China in 2014 and her 2015 trips to India, Saudi Arabia, and the United Kingdom, Mrs. Obama has not only been a fashionable and attractive partner for her

husband, but she also concentrated on her major themes: education, engagement of youth in their communities, health and wellness, self‐determination. She was touched and realized the powerful reach of her new role when she visited the mostly minority and economically strapped students at the Elizabeth Garrett Anderson School for girls in London in 2009 and another impoverished group of schoolgirls in the largely Muslim neighborhood of Tower Hamlets in London on a subsequent trip in 2015. She realized that her story could resonate and inspire girls not only in the United States but all over the world. Mrs. Obama’s message reflected her new initiative, Let Girls Learn, which is focused on ensuring that education is available for girls in all countries. She has clapped and swayed to music at a school in Mexico City, jumped rope with children in China, and played hopscotch in India. As is customary in media coverage of first ladies, however, press coverage of Michelle has often focused on her clothing, noting the Burberry coat she wore when exiting Air Force One in Ireland, the Carolyn Herrera dress she wore at a dinner hosted by German Chancellor Angela Merkel, the “fashion faceoff she had with former supermodel and French First Lady Carla Bruni‐Sarkozy,” and the pastels and patterns of the dresses she wore in Senegal (Strzemien, 2009), Just like Jackie Kennedy some fifty years ago, Michelle Obama too serves as a fashion icon and as a visible representation of the work of American designers. Indeed, just as Mrs. Kennedy won hearts and influenced displays of public adulation for her husband in France in 1961, Michelle Obama’s first European trip demonstrated the delicate interplay between style and substance and its impact on diplomacy. Fashion writer Kate Betts summarized Mrs. Obama’s impact: It was the First Lady who captured the crowds and who seemed to breathe new



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life into what it means to be an American. It was the First Lady who seemed to restore the enthusiasm for America that had been lost. (Betts, 2011: n.p.)

Her style even allowed her to breach protocol at Buckingham Palace and get away with it. At the conclusion of a meeting with Queen Elizabeth II, the queen “briefly wrapped her arm around the first lady in a rare public show of affection” and the first lady “wrapped her arm around the monarch’s shoulder and back.” A palace s­pokesman noted that “he could not remember the last time the queen had displayed such public affection with a dignitary” (Quinn, 2009). These trips’ larger diplomatic goals were always in focus for Michelle Obama. En route to Mexico on her first solo trip in April, 2010, she joined Second Lady Dr. Jill Biden and President and Mrs. Rene Preval in Haiti to view the earthquake damage that had recently devastated Port‐au‐Prince, and to focus the world’s attention on the need to continue the Haiti rebuilding effort. In the Mexican visit that followed, she “underscore[d] the breadth and depth of this country’s robust relationship with its southern neighbor” (M. Obama, 2010c). The centerpiece of the visit was a speech to students at Universidad Iberoamericana. She noted that “tens of millions of Americans trace their roots right here to this country” and that “for generations Mexico and the US have been bound together not just by a shared border but by shared values and aspirations” (M. Obama, 2010c). This connection, she emphasized, was the reason why she had picked Mexico for her first solo trip. A few months after the Mexico visit, Mrs. Obama made her most serious travel misstep by taking a personal vacation to Spain with her daughter Sasha, her Chicago friend Anita Blanchard Nesbitt, and Anita’s daughter (Kantor, 2012: 240). The first lady quickly discovered that, even if she paid for her own expenses in Spain, the public still footed part

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of the bill—namely the part concerned with the necessary security. Many criticized the trip for conveying an image of luxury travel at a time of economic difficulties in America, and it would not be the last time that such travel costs were raised as an issue. In 2011 Mrs. Obama was able to shift the focus back to her agenda, with a solo trip to South Africa and Botswana that combined a diplomatic purpose to “underscore the importance of Africa’s success to America” (Voice of America, 2011). In South Africa she met with Nelson Mandela, then aged ninety‐two, who signed a book to her, and in Botswana, she saluted “girls overcoming hurdles to success” (CNN, 2011). On a second trip to Africa that she made in 2013 with her husband, she and former First Lady Laura Bush participated in the first annual First Ladies Summit together with nine African first ladies—a meeting convened by the George W. Bush Institute’s First Ladies Initiative. The discussion, moderated by journalist Cokie Roberts, started with a statement that the president made earlier in the trip: “you can measure how well a country does by how well it treats it women.” Both first ladies encouraged their African counterparts to follow their passions, Mrs. Obama further urging them: “be very strategic about the issues you care most about.”(M. Obama and L. Bush, 2013). Michelle’s third solo trip stressed the same themes but again created some backlash with the media. When Mrs. Obama, along with her daughters and her mother, visited China in March 2014, she did not take a press pool along on their plane. American journalists were “kept far away from many events” (Thompson, 2014: A7). The US media found particular irony in their limited access, given the first lady’s remarks at the Stanford Center at Peking University, which extolled the virtues of a free press: “it’s so important for information and ideas to flow freely. … That’s how we learn what’s really going on in our communities and our country and our world”

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(M.  Obama, 2014f). Overall, though, the China trip was described as “more substantive than expected” (Thompson, 2014: A7), as the first lady met with President Xi Jinping, First Lady Peng Liyuan, and US Ambassador Max Baucus (M. Obama, 2014f). In January of 2015 the president and the first lady cut short their trip to India in order to stop in Saudi Arabia and pay their respects to the new Saudi King Salaman, enthroned after the death of King Abdullah. This trip showed the intense scrutiny that a first lady is under during official travel and the protocols she follows. When Mrs. Obama appeared bareheaded in Saudi Arabia, but with a long shirt and jacket covering her wrists, as required by Islamic custom, she set off an Internet controversy. Some saw her lack of head covering as not complying with Muslim tradition. However, she was following the protocol for western women who have visited Saudi Arabia and was in the tradition of other first ladies, including Laura Bush, who had also gone bareheaded (unless they were in a mosque). In a New York Times article, Julie Hirschfeld Davis commented that a first lady’s choices send both a cultural and a political message (Davis, 2015). In the same article Anita McBride noted that each first lady is briefed and prepared with the help of a “wardrobe memo.” No doubt Michelle Obama’s future travel will continue to generate broad attention and, inevitably, media scrutiny. “What I Owe the American People Is to Let Them See Who I Am” One thing that was immediately clear, even before she became first lady, was that Mrs. Obama was very confident in her fashion choices and wanted to convey a new message as first lady through the clothes she wore. She followed a long, historical tradition of first ladies using fashion to signify their own unique style and personality. Some first ladies had embraced this role,

some had fought it, but all became aware that their fashion choices would receive intense inspection from the American public. Martha Washington, the first American first lady, decided to dress in a simple style, so as not to appear too “royal”; Dolly Madison dressed in daring and exotic styles, both to complement her beauty and to facilitate her husband’s job of entertaining; and Mary Lincoln was criticized for her expensive fashions at a time of national crisis. In the twentieth and twenty‐first centuries first ladies used fashion and their own styles in a variety of ways, in order to project the images that mirrored their personalities and view of the role of first lady. Florence Harding and Mamie Eisenhower saw the usefulness of fashion and style in creating a connection with the media and public, while other first ladies such as Lou Hoover, Eleanor Roosevelt, Lady Bird Johnson, Barbara Bush, Rosalynn Carter and Hillary Clinton hoped to focus more on their substantive causes and programs and less on fashion. Jacqueline Kennedy elevated the use and importance of fashion and style to a whole new height of elegance and glamor, creating the image of the “Camelot” presidency. Another first lady who projected a very glamorous image was Nancy Reagan. Laura Bush used fashion partly as a way to project a quiet, calm, and elegant image at a time of war and terrorism (Betts, 2011: 36–71; Sibley, 2009; Marling, 1994). Michelle Obama has embraced fashion and style both to project her personality and to serve as a powerful and confident role model to reach a new, younger and more diverse audience. She has been fearless in fashion choices that highlight her well‐ toned body and she is eclectic in style, choosing both affordable and expensive clothes. The American public and the world got a preview of Michelle Obama’s fashion and style during the 2008 campaign. On the night of President Elect Obama’s acceptance speech in Grant Park, she stepped out on the stage in a bold and controversial



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black‐and‐red dress by designer Narciso Rodriguez. The “lava lamp” dress, as it came to be called, became the subject of a poll taken by USA Today, which showed dislike by a margin of two to one (Betts, 2011: 20). As noted earlier, in Chapter  39, this was not the first time that Michelle had faced pressure to soften her look. As the new first lady, she used the inauguration to make a very clear fashion statement. She chose two little‐known designers for her key inaugural outfits. In doing so, she projected an image of change in the presidency and a sense of hope in the electorate that Barack Obama and she had spoken of throughout the campaign. For the inauguration and parade, she selected a wool and lace dress and coat by the Cuban American designer Isabel Toledo, in a yellow lemongrass color intended to project a new sense of optimism. For the inaugural balls she chose a white ball gown by the Chinese American Jason Wu. Like so many of her fashion statements, this dress elicited both positive and negative comments. Mrs. Obama has continued to make bold fashion choices as first lady, often selecting her clothes from designers of diverse ­backgrounds. She has worn clothes by both American and foreign designers, sometimes mainstream and sometimes not. She has continued to mix formal and informal designer clothes with less expensive, off‐the‐ rack clothes. She has used fashion to show her fit 5’11” body. Her bare arms have become famous and have received considerable comment from the media. Dressing as a first lady is tricky. When she first met Queen Elizabeth at Buckingham Palace in April 2009, Michelle Obama wore a black cardigan and was widely criticized for it; Oscar de la Renta complained: “You don’t go to Buckingham Palace in a sweater” (Betts, 2011: 235). At a subsequent meeting with the Queen in 2012 she wore an elegant white and silver jacket, which was both praised for its style and lambasted for its cost of nearly $7,000. For head of state

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dinners she has chosen beautiful gowns, but has been faulted when she did not wear clothes by American designers. She received criticism when she appeared in shorts in 2009, and she said later that that was one of her few fashion regrets. In June 2014 the media raised the issue of who covers the cost of Michelle Obama’s clothes. The public expects first ladies to dress beautifully, yet the first lady is expected to pay for her clothes from her private funds. Laura Bush has said that she was “amazed by the sheer number of designer clothes that I was expected to buy (Benac, 2014). The White House responded that Mrs. Obama pays for her dresses and that sometimes, when the dress was worn at a historic event, it is accepted as a gift on behalf of the US government and later given to the National Archives and Records Administration for potential display at the future Presidential Library. This issue is indicative of the complex demands placed on first ladies, who are neither elected nor paid but face exacting public expectations about how they should appear in public (Benac, 2014). In spite of the varying public opinion, there is no doubt that Michelle Obama has been a very successful first lady in her innovative use of fashion. She has appeared on the cover of Vogue twice. By the time of her second appearance in 2013, she had been called a fashion “icon” so many times that this word has almost become a part of her title. She has been featured in numerous other magazines and on their covers—magazines as varied as Essence and Ladies Home Journal. Even before she had finished her time as first lady, several books appeared on her sense of style. She has effectively used her love of fashion in order to become a role model to a diverse group of young women while at the same time encouraging all women to be confident in their own tastes, just as she is. She has viewed the public reaction with pragmatism: “I can’t be surprised that people are interested. But I’ve tried to

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be at peace with the choices that I make first, and then be open to everyone else’s reflection” (Leive, 2009). By the time of the 2012 campaign, Michelle Obama’s confidence with her role as first lady was clear on the campaign trail and in the speeches she gave, and so was her popularity—a CNN poll taken in 2011 showed a 65 percent approval rating, which was 20 points higher than her husband’s (Mason, 2011). President’s Obama campaign manager, Jim Messina, seized on her importance to the 2012 campaign when he said that “The first lady is able to play a unique role as an ambassador for the president” (Mason, 2011). And she did just that, in speeches throughout the country, championing such causes as the importance of family, better childhood health, education, and support for military families. She repeatedly used her life and her husband’s to reach out to young people and remind them that, no matter the obstacles they faced, with hard work and perseverance they too could improve their lives, a message she often reinforced with hugs. Her evolution from a hesitant and sometimes too strident voice at the beginning of the 2008 campaign to an effective and confident campaigner for her husband and her causes was fully evident in the second campaign. She was now at ease with her role as first lady and with the powerful podium it gave her. “Let’s Act … Let’s Move” On February 9, 2010—a cold wintry day at the White House—Michelle Obama announced a cause that was near and dear to her heart, the Let’s Move program: “we’re determined to finally take on one of the most serious threats to [our] future: the epidemic of childhood obesity in America today—an issue that’s of great concern to me not just as a First Lady, but as a mom” (M. Obama, 2010a). She went on to make a startling announcement: over the previous decade one-third of all children in the US

were overweight or obese. This condition made them prone not only to type II diabetes, high blood pressure, and cholesterol but also to bullying, depression, and low self‐esteem. Michelle’s new initiative was coordinated with a presidential memo that established a government‐wide Task Force on Childhood Obesity charged with making recommendations on all federal policies related to child nutrition and exercise and with “establishing clear goals, benchmarks and measurable outcomes” (M. Obama, 2010b). Michelle’s concern about childhood obesity and lack of exercise in America stemmed from choices she had to make as a working mother. With Barack gone most of the time, she tried to balance her job, her appointments, her children’s activities and carpools, and her errands. She and her daughters would often end up eating fast food or cooking quick frozen foods. Later she recalled: “I never really thought about the consequences until I sat down with our family pediatrician and he asked me a simple question: What are you eating [?]” (M. Obama, 2012a: 16). Her Let’s Move program offered five key initiatives to address obesity issues from infancy on; these initiatives ranged from access to information on healthy food to physical fitness (M. Obama, 2012a: 180). The program would go about accomplishing its goals in a way indicative of Michelle Obama. Its staff, headed by Executive Director Sam Kass, worked directly with government agencies, schools, healthcare professionals, chefs, parents, and celebrities to create a healthier environment for young Americans. A nonprofit Partnership for a Healthier America managed private sector initiatives. One of the effort’s significant outcomes was the passage in 2010 of the Healthy, Hunger‐Free Kids Act. The Act set higher nutritional standards for school breakfasts and lunches, such as cutting sodium, calories, and fats, and gave the department of agriculture authority to set health standards



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for all food sold at schools. Michelle Obama supported and lobbied for the Act, and in doing so became embroiled in the political arena in a way she had tried to avoid. While the Act has many supporters, critics have complained about food waste—some youngsters spurned the healthy choices— and lobbyists for large food companies have also pushed for the standards to be eased. As of this printing, with updated requirements in place, a small but growing number of districts have opted out of the program, even though this means that they must now pay the government’s subsidy for free and reduced lunches; and Congress is currently considering reducing some of the nutritional standards in the Act. In addition to working on transforming the food environment of schools, Let’s Move has gained agreements with some grocery chains to serve neglected communities, and with restaurants to offer healthier options. Let’s Move initiated the Chefs Move to School initiative, in which chefs and schools sign up to create more nutritional meals. The first lady worked with the department of agriculture to create a new food pyramid called MyPlate/MiPlato and emphasized participation in the President’s Physical Fitness Challenge (Let’s Move! 2010). To ensure that Let’s Move reached as broad a population as possible, Michelle has used her popularity and recruited celebrities to the cause of championing good eating and physical exercise. She has been seen hula‐hooping on the White House lawn, running, dancing at schools and on TV shows, jumping rope and doing a variety of other sport activities in order to encourage children to get more exercise. Pop music star Beyonce created a video called “Move Your Body,” actress Amy Poehler and Michelle Obama played miniature golf together, and basketball star Shaquille O’Neal joined the first lady at a DC school to exercise. While there clearly are many successes, the program has also had its share of criticism. Some conservatives lambasted the

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government for once again “mandating” Americans’ activities. Healthy food advocates complained about the willingness of the first lady and the Let’s Move program to work with big food corporations marketing and selling unhealthy foods. Critics also complained that some of the featured celebrities appeared elsewhere in soft drink commercials and that the program focused too much on food and not enough on physical exercise. What remains clear about the Let’s Move program, however, is that Mrs. Obama has effectively used her podium and her public persona to focus national attention on the childhood obesity epidemic, the need to change eating habits in America, and the importance of physical fitness. Indeed, more than thirteen thousand c­hildcare ­centers now use the Let’s Move guidelines, calling for healthier food and more exercise for tots (Superville, 2014). In a 2014 speech, in words that underlined her convictions, Michelle Obama encouraged the public to fight congressional efforts to roll back the program: “Transforming the health of an entire generation is no small task. But we have to be willing to fight the hard fight now” (M. Obama, 2014b). It is clear that this is an initiative close to her heart, and one that she will keep championing after she leaves the White House. In February 2015, as the first person ever featured on a cover of  Cooking Light magazine, she was asked about how she might make the program her “legacy.” Michelle Obama stated affirmatively that, “[i]f there’s one word that I could say about what we do in the future, it’s ‘more.’ It’s more of this” (quoted in Marx, 2015). Joining Forces: Supporting Veterans and Their Families In a blending of popular culture and real life, the first lady took a cue from previous First Ladies Nancy Reagan and Hillary Clinton and made a cameo appearance on a

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popular television program. Her choice was the May 7, 2014 episode of the ABC hit drama series Nashville. The context was simple: a country western singer is injured by an improvised explosive device in Afghanistan before he can perform for the troops; so they move the concert to Fort Campbell near Nashville and simulcast it to Afghanistan. The first lady spoke to the television audience from the White House. She praised men and women in the armed services and reminded the audience of our “solemn obligation to serve them as well as they’ve served us” (ABC News, 2014). This wasn’t the first time that Michelle Obama used a popular television show to promote her dedication to members of the military and their families. On April 12, 2011, the first and second ladies kicked off the fifth installment of the Sesame Street/ USO Experience for Military Families, a touring program that started in 2008. They also filmed public service announcements with Sesame Street characters. Mrs. Obama appeared on an episode of Nickelodeon’s sitcom iCarly to talk about military families and went on the road to do a little “random dancing” with the cast at a military base high school. Celebrities contributed to publicizing the project. The entertainment connection was key, as Mrs. Obama explained: “The major guilds in entertainment—writers, producers, directors, actors—all have committed to telling more stories of military families in TV shows and movies. Working together, we’re going to make sure that our military families are never forgotten” (B. Obama, J. R. Biden, J. T. Biden, and M. Obama, 2011). Joining Forces (see Joining Forces, n.d.) was the result of work first started by Mrs. Obama during the 2008 campaign, as she recounted: I remember that we would do these gatherings with moms, women—mostly working women—because I wanted to hear through [them]—for my husband what were some

of the challenges of working women out there. And everywhere we went, I heard the voice of a woman that I hadn’t heard before, and it was your voice. (M. Obama and J. T. Biden, 2014)

The first lady teamed up with Second Lady Dr. Jill Biden in the Joining Forces program because the Bidens’ son, Beau, was then deployed in Iraq; the Bidens were members of a military support organization known as Blue Star Families. The president spoke of Michelle’s dedication to the cause: “It’s become part of who she is. That blue star is sort of indelibly branded on her heart. And it’s come in our family and among our friends to define her in a sense” (B. Obama et al., 2011). Joining Forces aimed to identify and raise awareness of the needs of military personnel, veterans and their families in areas like employment, education, and wellness and to address these needs through an extensive set of partnerships in the public and private sectors. Hiring our Heroes, for instance, recruits corporations to hire veterans and their family members. The original goal was a commitment of one hundred thousand jobs in two years, but in April 2014, on the program’s third anniversary, the first lady reported “that number has risen to 540,000 jobs” (M. Obama, 2014c). The education plank of Joining Forces emphasizes STEM instruction (science, ­technology, engineering, and mathematics) for children who attend high schools with high percentages of students from military families. Another initiative is United Through Reading, which “allows deployed parents to video‐record books to their children” (Reuters, 2011). The major emphasis of the educational program of Joining Forces is, however, on returning veterans and on easing their transition into college. Almost two thousand colleges and universities have joined the effort in order to ensure “a culture of … connectedness to promote well‐being for veterans” and to “provide comprehensive



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professional development for faculty and staff” on veterans’ concerns, among other planks (“8 Keys to Veterans’ Success Sites,” 2015). The wellness goal of the program addresses recovery and access to health care, including mental health—especially the treatment of post‐traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) and traumatic brain injury (TBI) and dealing with their impact on families. In January 2012, Mrs. Obama announced that medical schools throughout the country would train their physicians and medical students to deal with the mental health issues of veterans; new research and clinical trials on  PTSD and  TBI were included in these projects (M.  Obama, 2012b). The program also works with local and state officials to assist homeless veterans; more than one hundred and thirty thousand who had been helped by mid‐2014 (M. Obama, 2014a). With her background in the corporate world and in nonprofit health care, Michelle Obama has been effective at bringing together organizations to do the work that government cannot do alone, and her veterans’ initiatives have seen measurable results. As ever, though, the intersection of a first lady’s programs with her husband’s shows that she is never totally an independent representative. The 2014 controversy and criticism of the Obama administration after the discovery of extensive delays and poor treatment at veterans’ hospitals led to the resignation of the head of  the US department of veterans affairs (VA), Eric Shinseki; and the  continuing crises with VA hospitals in 2015 overshadowed for a time the important successes and achievements of Joining Forces in helping military families. Mrs. Obama’s work and dedication to veterans is likely to continue after her White House years. She told Johanna Kelly, a reporter from Kidsday: “I  am going to keep working with military families and military kids to make sure that we know that they are out there and that we as a nation know that we are always working to help them to transition” (Kelly, 2014).

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Both the Let’s Move and Joining Forces programs demonstrated Michelle Obama’s commitment to and keen interest in promoting a healthier America for children and adults. However, despite her great interest in health issues, Michelle Obama—unlike Hillary Clinton—was not closely involved in crafting her husband’s healthcare legislation. On the other hand she was certainly supportive of it, given that the Affordable Care Act provided “peace of mind” (Epstein, 2013).

Education: Transforming Lives There is no better proof of the transformative power of education than the lives of Barack and Michelle Obama. As first lady, Michelle preaches the gospel that the American dream endures for all children in the US if they embrace the opportunities that an education affords them. Her motivation and message are simple: Education is the key to success for so many kids. …. I’m doing this because that story of opportunity through education is the story of my life, and I want them to know that it can be their story, too. (M. Obama, 2014g)

Her education speeches are strong on narrative—her story, the president’s, and those of individuals connected with the audience to whom she is speaking. She is well aware, moreover, that her own story is emblematic of a certain context and period, which shaped her ability to attain the dream. Her family, the Robinsons, “on a single blue‐collar salary could build a solid life without debt,” she writes, something “no longer possible” in 2013 (M. Obama, 2013c). She added: “That fundamental American promise probably wouldn’t be in reach for the family I grew up in if we were trying to make it again today.” Her awareness of these changed circumstances buttresses the Obamas’ vigorous emphasis on

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the importance of education at all levels, as well as their intention to make college less expensive. Her initiatives on this front are closely tied to her husband’s North Star goal of having the US once again, by 2020, lead the world in the proportion of college graduates. The percentage of twenty‐five‐ to sixty‐four‐year‐ old Americans with two‐ or four‐year degrees has remained static, while 11 countries have surpassed the US (OECD, 2013). In May 2014 the first lady announced her Reach Higher program, which was designed to augment her husband’s North Star effort. Reach Higher aims to expand college enrollment and features a web site with advice on determining the cost of ­college, securing financial aid, selecting a college, and completing a degree (M. Obama, 2014e). Mrs. Obama highlighted these priorities in Topeka, Kansas at the historical site of Brown v. Board of Education of Topeka (1954) in May 2014, noting the administration’s efforts “to reach out to young people and stress the importance of finishing high school and getting an education beyond high school, whether that’s professional training, four‐year college, [or] two‐year community college” (M. Obama, 2014d). Five themes dominate Mrs. Obama’s message in education: (1) you have to believe in yourself—don’t let anyone tell you that you can’t achieve; (2) it isn’t easy—everyone has setbacks and even failures, but others are there to help, and you will be stronger in the end; (3) there are many like you who have overcome difficulties (here she offers herself and her husband as examples); (4) without some form of education, your opportunities are limited; and (5) everyone has a responsibility to serve one’s community and those who come behind them. The speeches are filled with words such as “perseverance,” “grit,” “resilience,” “dreams,” “hope,” “service,” “opportunity,” “love,” “caring,” “expectations,” “believe,” “optimism,” and “tenacity.” As this and the previous chapter have suggested, these are terms that also speak to her assessment of

her own history. Her speeches offer her story as an example of what is possible, especially for disadvantaged and minority students. Mrs. Obama chooses her audiences carefully and understands the power of merging “statecraft with stagecraft”—in other words, of framing the message through a carefully chosen setting, audience, props, overall ambiance, and even attire (Schill, 2009). For example, it was no coincidence that the first lady’s inaugural commencement address in 2009 was to the first‐ever graduating class from the newest member of the University of California system in Merced. The school is located in the San Joaquin Valley, a fast‐growing but impoverished region, and “leads the UC system in the percentage of students from underrepresented ethnic groups, low‐income families and families whose parents did not attend college” (University of California‐ Merced, 2015). These are the students with whom Michelle Obama identifies most closely and whom she hopes to encourage. The students had a letter‐writing campaign designed to enlist her as their speaker, and she read from the letters, pointing out the writers in her speech. She told the group that she was there because You inspired me, you touched me … there are few things that are more rewarding than to watch young people recognize that they have the power to make their dreams come true. And you did just that. Your perseverance and creativity were on full display in your efforts to bring me here. (M. Obama, 2009)

She commented on the shared values of the people of the Valley who lobbied for the University of California at Merced. She contrasted this situation with that of her own background, when she lived just a few miles from the University of Chicago, “yet … The institution made no effort to reach out to me” (M. Obama, 2009). Mrs. Obama speaks frequently at university commencements, often emphasizing the theme of service. She also uses her



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“mom in chief” tone, challenging students to achieve more. At her commencement speech in 2013 at Bowie State University, a traditionally black university, she reflected that more students needed to be “hungry” for education in America: Today, more than 150 years after the Emancipation Proclamation, more than 50 years after the end of “separate but equal” when it comes to getting an education, too many of our young people just can’t be bothered … they’re sitting on couches for hours, playing video games and watching TV … But let’s be very clear. Today, getting an education is as important if not more important than it was back when this university was founded. (M. Obama, 2013a)

On the eve of the sixtieth anniversary of Brown v. Board, Mrs. Obama gave a speech to graduating high school students in Topeka that emphasized the importance of diversity, which the 1954 decision had enshrined. She warned the students not to take diversity for granted: But remember, not everyone has grown up in a place like Topeka. See, many districts in this country have actually pulled back on efforts to integrate their schools, and many communities have become less diverse … So today, by some measures, our schools are as segregated as they were back when Dr. King gave his final speech. … So, graduates, the truth is that Brown v. Board of Ed. isn’t just about our history, it’s about our future. (M. Obama, 2014d)

But it is when Mrs. Obama speaks to K‐12 students— especially those in urban centers, whose young lives most resemble her own— that her education message soars in the attempt to show the most passionate concern. Her visit, together with television star Kerry Washington, to the Savoy Elementary School in Anacostia—one of the poorest neighborhoods in the district—combined

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both statecraft and stagecraft. Mrs. Obama danced with pre‐K students and visited classrooms in order to produce lively videos and photographs for the media. She told the children: “I have failed at things. … But when you work hard and you invest thousands of hours in anything, you get better. … I want you to be fearless learners. I want you to ask questions, take some risks” (M. Obama, 2013b). Other first ladies have used celebrities to spread their message; but Michelle Obama’s use of celebrities and popular culture to connect with her audiences is unprecedented and broad in its impact. Through workshops led by actresses like Kerry Washington, the first lady has offered young people opportunities to learn the arts from leaders in their fields. At a “Women of Soul” student workshop designed to help recognize the Women’s History Month in March 2014, she brought along singers Janelle Monáe, Melissa Etheridge, and Patti LaBelle. A few months earlier she hosted a Careers in Film Symposium for students, which was organized by producer Harvey Weinstein and featured Whoopi Goldberg. And, as noted above, she has recruited celebrities to join her effort of promoting exercise. The impact of Michelle Obama’s education efforts, unlike that of Joining Forces or Let’s Move, may not be seen before the Obamas leave the White House, and will likely continue to be a focus for her. As a first lady, she serves as an outstanding role model for large numbers of students, particularly those from diverse and lower income backgrounds across the country and in the world, as she encourages them all to recognize the importance of education for opening doors in life. Conclusion It is too early to reach a definitive appraisal on Michelle Obama’s ongoing role; however, some conclusions can be drawn at

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this point. Andrea Mercado, one of the students at UCMerced who invited her to speak at commencement, described a first lady’s role as achieving “the balance between politics and sanity” (M. Obama, 2009b). Michelle Obama entered the White House determined to create as normal a life for her daughters as possible and to have family time even as she lived above the shop—the  sanity element. Further, she wanted to remain true to herself while applying the l­essons of the campaign about too much honesty—the political balancing act. After reviewing Mrs. Obama’s remarkable life story and first seven years in the White House, it is evident that she is a history‐making first lady. Other presidents’ wives may have had humble beginnings, an advanced degree, a career, or causes to champion. They may have been reluctant political partners initially, may have used the media to shape an image or promote a cause, may have showcased American fashion, or may have traveled the world. However, Michelle Obama will always be known as the first African American first lady. She  has not shied away from her ­slavery ancestry, the discrimination she experienced, or her sense of duty to be a role model for African American children and families. Instead she has fully embraced them all. She has helped undermine stereotypes of black women and projected herself as a modern American career woman balancing family and work (albeit unpaid—in  the White House), and, if not always doing it well or without frustration, most often she has accomplished it  with candor, humor, and intelligence. For many, she is the embodiment of the American dream that knows no race, no socioeconomic status, no gender. Shared values are her means of identifying with all Americans, and she was responsible in large part for making the prospect of an African American family in the White House less of a leap for the majority of voters in 2008.

Her life experience is representative of the triumphs of the civil rights era into which she was born, the doors that still need to be opened, and the outcome of the unstinting work she has put into pursuing her goals. She has spoken about the need to continue to embrace, and work toward, a more diverse society; and she has affirmed, along with another Princeton alumna, Justice Sonia Sotomayor, that race and a discussion about it still matter very much in today’s society. She also represents an era for women that has been labeled “postfeminist.” Unlike Hillary Clinton, who came of age during the second wave of feminism, broke a large number of glass ceilings, and often appeared uncomfortable in traditionally feminine roles and fashions, Michelle Obama is young enough to be able to embrace both her femininity and her power (Betts, 2011). She speaks openly of the challenges of not being able to have it all, from needing her husband to pick up ant traps on his way home from the US Senate, to the loneliness of raising children in a two‐career family before and during the White House years. She even let the frustration of not having enough time slip into a radio interview about Let’s Move when she referred to herself as “a busy single mother—or, I shouldn’t say ‘single’—as a busy mother … You know when you’ve got a husband who’s president, it can feel a little single, but he’s there” (Weiner, 2013). For all her uniqueness, however, as first lady Michelle Obama has followed in the tradition of other first ladies, who also effectively championed causes: Eleanor Roosevelt’s fight for the underdog, Lady Bird Johnson’s call for conservation efforts, Betty Ford’s support of the Equal Rights Amendment, Rosalynn Carter’s lobbying for more mental health programs, Hillary Clinton’s work for women’s rights as human rights, and Laura Bush’s advocacy for the rights of Afghan women. Mrs. Obama’s approach to the commitments she has



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embraced—such as health and wellness, education, and the welfare of military ­ ­families—is thus very similar to that of her predecessors. However, what is unique is the extent to which she has used twenty‐ first‐century technology in combination with fashion and popular culture to help promote her causes to a new and wider audience. Michelle Obama has taken to heart what Lady Bird Johnson once said of the position: “The statute books assign her no duties; and yet, when she gets the job, a podium is there if she cares to use it” (Smith, 2009: 3). Like Lady Bird, Michelle has used her podium and done so effectively. Her strong showing in opinion polls suggests that, while she has been too traditional for some and too aggressive or too “different” for others, she has made a significant and positive impact on the public through her programs, which will continue long after she leaves the White House. Her role as first lady has also been defined by her very personal style, particularly with children. She reflected on this when being asked about her legacy: I want to feel like the things I did made a difference. That’s one of the reasons I  spend time [greeting people] on rope lines, because I’m thinking, ‘Maybe this interaction, particularly if I’m meeting kids, will change someone’s life. Maybe if I  stay one second longer and ask this little girl what she wants to be, if I tell her that I’m proud of her, if I give her a hug, maybe that one moment will make her go off and be great.’ That’s how I think about the work I do. It is a rare spotlight. (More Magazine, 2015: 85)

Most importantly, she has been a worthy representative in her historical role of opening up the White House and the presidency to a different group of Americans and in ensuring that this is a nation inclusive of all.

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References “8 Keys to Veterans’ Success Sites.” 2015. US Department of Education. http://www. ed.gov/veterans‐and‐militar y‐families/ 8‐keys‐success‐sites (accessed June 16, 2016). ABC News. 2014. “Michelle Obama Guest Starts on Nashville.” May 7. http://abcnews.go.com/ WNN/video/michelle‐obama‐guest‐stars‐ nashville‐23634719 (accessed June 16, 2014). Anthony, C. S. 1990. First Ladies: The Saga of the Presidents’ Wives and Their Power. New York City: William Morrow. Benac, N. 2014. “First Lady’s Fabulous Clothes: Who Pays the Bills? Associate Press, June 2. http://bigstory.ap.org/article/ first‐ladys‐fabulous‐clothes‐who‐pays‐bills (accessed June 22, 2014). Betts, K. 2011. Everyday Icon: Michelle Obama and the Power of Style. New York: Clarkson Potter. (Kindle edition.) Brown v. Board of Education of Topeka, 347 US 483 (1954). Cherlin, R. 2014. “The Worst Wing: How the East Wing shrank Michelle Obama.” The New Republic, March 24. http://www. newrepublic.com/article/117086/ inside‐ east‐wing‐who‐shrank‐michelle‐obama (accessed, June 15, 2014). CNN. 2011. “Michelle Obama and Her Daughters Arrive in South Africa.” June 20. www.cnn.com/2011/WORLD/africa/ 06/20/michelle.obama.africa/index.html (accessed June 3, 2014). Davis, J. H. 2015. “What to Wear? First Ladies are Steeped in Protocol.” New York Times, January 29. http://www.nytimes.com/2015/01/ 30/ us/politics/what‐to‐wear‐michelle‐obama‐is‐ steeped‐in‐protocol.html (accessed November 4, 2015). DeFrank, T. M. 2009. “President Obama Rips White House Party Crashers Tareq and Michaele Salahi on ‘60 Minutes.’” New York Daily News, December 12. http://www. nydailynews.com/news/politics/president‐ obama‐rips‐white‐house‐party‐crashers‐tareq‐ michaele‐salahi‐60‐minutes‐article‐1.432764 (accessed June 15, 2014). Ellis, R. 2010. “A Conversation with Michelle Obama.” Good Housekeeping, May 1. http:// w w w. g o o d h o u s e k e e p i n g . c o m / f a m i l y / celebrity‐interviews/michelle‐obama‐interview (accessed, June 15, 2014).

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Epstein, J. 2013. “Michelle Obama Steps into Healthcare Spotlight.” Politico, December 18. http://www.politico.com/story/2013/12/ michelle‐obama‐obamacare‐101305.html (accessed June 16, 2016). Joining Forces. n.d. Website. http://joiningforces. uso.org (accessed June 14, 2014). Kantor, J. 2012. The Obamas. New York: Back Bay Books. Kelly, J. 2014. “Michelle Obama Interviewed by a Kidsday Reporter.” Newsday, April 22. http:// long‐island.newsday.com/kids/kidsday/ michelle‐obama‐interviewed‐by‐a‐kids day‐ reporter‐1.7793187 (accessed June 14, 2014). Leive, C. 2009. “On the C. L.: Michelle Obama’s Inspiring Mission (Hail the Mentor in Chief!) Plus Her Answers to Your Questions.” Glamour Magazine, October 28. http://www.glamour. com/sex‐love‐life/blogs/smitten/2009/10/ on‐the‐cl‐michelle‐obama.html (accessed June 22, 2014). Let’s Move! (2010). “Learn the Facts.” letsmove. gov, February 9. http://www.letsmove.gov/ learn‐facts/epidemic‐childhood‐obesity (accessed June 22, 2014). Marling, K. A. 1994. As Seen on TV: The Visual Culture of Everyday Life in the 1950s. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Marx, D. 2015. “Who’s the First Person on ‘Cooking Light’ Cover? The First Lady.” FishbowlDC, February 9. http://www.adweek. com/fishbowldc/whos‐the‐first‐person‐on‐ cooking‐light‐cover‐the‐first‐lady/140577 (accessed November 15, 2015). Mason, J. 2011. “Michelle Obama Shifts into 2012 Mode.” Politico, October 10. http:// www.politico.com/story/2011/10/michelle‐ obama‐shifts‐into‐2012‐mode‐066188 (accessed November 14, 2015). More Magazine. 2015. “Eavesdropping on the Talk of a Lifetime with Meryl Streep and Michelle Obama.” MORE 18 (6): 85. OECD. 2013. “Education at a Glance, 2013: OECD Indicators.” 10.1787/eag‐2013‐en: 28 (accessed June 15, 2014). Obama, B. J. R. Biden, J. T. Biden, and M. Obama. 2011. “Remarks by the President, the Vice President, the First Lady, and Dr. Biden at Launch of ‘Joining Forces’ Initiative.” The White House, April 12. http://www.whitehouse.gov/ the‐press‐of fice/2011/04/12/remarks‐ president‐vice‐president‐first‐lady‐and‐dr‐ biden‐launch‐joining‐ (accessed, June 16, 2014).

Obama, M. 2009a. “Remarks by the First Lady at the Sojourner Truth Bust Unveiling.” The White House, April 28. http://www. whitehouse.gov/the‐press‐office/remarks‐ first‐lady‐sojourner‐truth‐bust‐unveiling (accessed June 15, 2014). Obama, M. 2009b. “Remarks by the First Lady  at the University of California Merced Commencement.” The White House, May 16. http://www.whitehouse.gov/the‐press‐ office/remarks‐first‐lady‐university‐california‐ merced‐commecement (accessed January 24, 2014). Obama, M. 2010a. “First Lady Michelle Obama Launches Let’s Move: America’s Move to Raise a Healthier Generation of Kids.” The White House, February 9. http://www. whitehouse.gov/the‐press‐office/first‐lady‐ michelle‐obama‐launches‐lets‐move‐americas‐ move‐raise‐a‐healthier‐genera (accessed June 22, 2014). Obama, M. 2010b. “Remarks by the First Lady at “Let’s Move” Action Plan Announcement with Cabinet Secretaries.” The White House, May 11. http://www.whitehouse.gov/the‐press‐ office/remarks‐first‐lady‐lets‐move‐action‐ plan‐announcement‐with‐cabinet‐secretaries (accessed June 22, 2014). Obama, M. 2010c. “Remarks by First Lady at Youth Forum, Universidad Iberoamericana, Mexico City, Mexico.” The White House, April 14. http://www.whitehouse.gov/ the‐press‐office/remarks‐first‐lady‐youth‐ forum‐universidad‐iberoamericana‐mexico‐ city‐mexico (accessed June 4, 2014). Obama, M. 2012a. American Grown: The Story of the White House Kitchen Garden and Gardens Across America. New York: Crown. Obama, M. 2012b. “Remarks by the First Lady at Joining Forces Medical College Event.” The White House, January 11. http://www. whitehouse.gov/the‐press‐office/ 2012/01/11/remarks‐first‐lady‐joining‐ forces‐medical‐college‐event (accessed June 14, 2014). Obama, M. 2013a. “Remarks by the First Lady at Bowie State University Commencement Ceremony.” The White House, May 17. http:// www.whitehouse.gov/the‐press‐of fice/ 2013/05/17/remarks‐first‐lady‐bowie‐state‐ university‐commencement‐ceremony (accessed June 30, 2014).



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Obama, M. 2013b. “Remarks by the First Lady at Savoy Elementary School Visit.” The White House, May 14. http://www.whitehouse. gov/the‐press‐of fice/2013/05/24/ remarks‐first‐lady‐savoy‐elementary‐school‐ visit (accessed January 24, 2014). Obama, M. 2013c. “Remarks by the First Lady at a Fundraising Event.” The White House, June 6. https://www.whitehouse.gov/ the‐ press‐office/2013/06/06/remarks‐first‐ lady‐fundraising‐event (accessed November 30, 2015). Obama, M. 2014a. “Remarks by the First Lady Announcing Mayors Challenge to End Veterans Homelessness.” The White House,  June 4. http://www.whitehouse.gov/the‐press‐office/ 2014/06/04/remarks‐first‐lady‐announcing‐ mayors‐challenge‐end‐veterans‐homelessness (accessed June 14, 2014). Obama, M. 2014b. “Remarks by the First Lady before a Discussion with School Leaders and Experts on Issues Surrounding School Nutrition.” The White House, May 27. http://www.whitehouse.gov/the‐press‐ of fice/2014/05/27/remarks‐first‐lady‐ discussion‐school‐leaders‐and‐exper ts‐ issues‐surround (accessed June 22, 2014). Obama, M. 2014c. “Remarks by the First Lady at Joining Forces Veterans Jobs Summit and Career Forum.” The White House, April 23. http:// www.whitehouse.gov/the‐press‐of fice/ 2014/04/23/remarks‐first‐lady‐joining‐forces‐ veterans‐jobs‐summit‐and‐career‐forum, (accessed June 14, 2014). Obama, M. 2014d. “Remarks by the First Lady at Roundtable Discussion with High School Students.” The White House, May 17. http://www.whitehouse.gov/the‐press‐ of fice/2014/05/17/remarks‐first‐lady‐ roundtable‐discussion‐high‐school‐students (accessed June 15, 2014). Obama, M. 2014e. “Remarks by the First Lady at San Antonio Signing Day Reach Higher Event.” The White House, May 2. http:// www.whitehouse.gov/the‐press‐of fice/ 2014/05/02/remarks‐first‐lady‐san‐antonio‐ signing‐day‐reach‐higher‐event (accessed June 15, 2014). Obama, M. 2014f. “Remarks by the First Lady at Stanford Center at Peking University.” The White House, March 22, http://www.whitehouse. gov/the‐press‐office/2014/03/22/remarks‐

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first‐lady‐stanford‐center‐peking‐university (accessed, June 4, 2014). Obama, M. 2014g. “Remarks by the President and First Lady at College Opportunity Summit.” The White House, January 16. http://www.whitehouse.gov/the‐press‐ office/2014/01/16/remarks‐president‐and‐ first‐lady‐college‐oppor tunity‐summit (accessed June 14, 2014). Obama, M., and J. T. Biden. 2014. “Remarks by the First Lady and Dr. Jill Biden at Joining Forces Meet‐and‐Greet with Military Families.” The White House, April 23. http:// www.whitehouse.gov/the‐press‐of fice/ 2014/04/23/remarks‐first‐lady‐and‐dr‐jill‐ biden‐joining‐forces‐meet‐and‐greet‐milit (accessed June 14, 2014). Obama, M., and L. Bush. 2013. “Remarks by First Lady Michelle Obama and First Lady Laura Bush in a Conversation at the African First Ladies Summit.” The White House, July 2. http://www.whitehouse.gov/the‐press‐ of fice/2013/07/02/remarks‐first‐lady‐ michelle‐obama‐and‐first‐lady‐laura‐bush‐ conversation (accessed, June 15, 2014). Quinn, J. 2009. “Michelle Obama and Queen Elizabeth II Hit It Off; In a Rare Move, Monarch Hugs the First Lady.” The Boston Globe, April 3. Rampton, R. 2014. “In China, Michelle Obama to Stay Firmly in ‘Mom in Chief Mode.’” Reuters, March 16. https://news.yahoo. com/china‐michelle‐obama‐stay‐firmly‐ mom‐chief‐mode‐185512348.html (accessed June 4, 2014). Reuters. 2011. “United through Reading Supports First Lady Michelle Obama and Dr. Jill Biden’s Joining Forces Initiative by Doubling Commitment to Army and National Guard by 2013.” http://www.reuters.com/article/ idUS243615+08‐Dec‐2011+BW20111208# TwU8XEffa2glAR1b.97 (accessed December 5 2015). Schill, D. 2009. Stagecraft and Stagecraft: Advance and Media Effects in Political Communication. Lanham, MD: Lexington Books. Sibley, K. A. S. 2009. First Lady Florence Harding: Beyond the Tragedy and Controversy. Lawrence: University Press of Kansas. Smith, R. N. 2009. Mrs. President: Biographical Sketches from Martha to Barbara. West Branch, IA: Herbert Hoover Presidential Library.

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Strzemien, A. 2009. “Fashion Face‐Off! Michelle Obama and Carla Bruni‐Sarkozy Finally Meet in France.” Huffington Post, May 4. www. huffingtonpost.com/2009/04/03/ fashion‐face‐off‐michele_n_182725.html (accessed June 4, 2014). Superville, D. 2014. “Major Childcare Centers Adopting Michelle Obama’s ‘Let’s Move’ Guidelines.” http://www.huffingtonpost. com/2014/02/27/michelle‐obama‐child‐ care_n_4869682.html (accessed December 5, 2015). Talley, A. L. 2009. “Michelle Obama: Leading Lady.” Vogue, March. http://www.vogue.com/ magazine/article/michelle‐obama‐leading‐ lady/#1 (accessed June 15, 2014). Thompson, K. 2014. “In China, First Lady Lauds Free Press amid Questions about Access.” Washington Post, March 16: A7. University of California‐Merced (UCMerced). 2015. “A Member of the UC System.” About Us Merced. http://www.ucmerced.edu/ about (accessed November 10, 2015). Voice of America. 2011. “Michelle Obama Will Travel to Africa.” June 2. www.voanews.com/ content/michelle‐obama‐to‐travel‐to‐ africa‐‐‐‐123108243/140271.html (accessed June 4, 2014). Weiner, R. 2013. “Michelle Obama Accidentally Calls Herself ‘Busy Single Mother.’” Washington Post, April 9.

Further Reading ABC News. 2012. “Michelle Obama: ‘South Side Girl.’” http://abcnews.go.com/Politics/ video?id=5651992 (accessed June 10, 2014). Biden, J. T., and M. Obama. 2014. “Remarks by the First Lady and Dr. Jill Biden at Joining Forces Impact Pledge Announcement.” April 30. http://www.whitehouse.gov/the‐ press‐office/2014/04/30/remarks‐first‐ lady‐and‐dr‐jill‐biden‐joining‐forces‐ impact‐pledge‐announ (accessed June 14, 2014). Mirkinson, J. 2012. “Soledad O’Brien, Jodi Kantor Clash over The Obamas.” Huffington Post, March 14. http://www.huffingtonpost. com/2012/01/13/soledad‐obrien‐jodi‐ kantor‐obamas_n_1204767.html (accessed December 5, 2015).

National Public Radio. 2008. “Michelle Obama: Family Is Focus Of Denver Speech.” August 25, http://www.npr.org/templates/story/ story.php?storyId=93944992 (accessed June 10, 2014). Obama, B. 2014. “Remarks by the President at LBJ Presidential Library Civil Rights Summit.” The White House, April 10. http://www. whitehouse.gov/photos‐and‐video/video/ 2014/04/10/president‐obama‐speaks‐civil‐ rights#transcript (accessed June 10, 2014). Obama, M. 2010. “Remarks by The First Lady  at  George Washington University Commencement.” The White House, May 16. http://www.whitehouse.gov/the‐press‐office/ remarks‐first‐lady‐george‐washington‐university‐ commencement (accessed January 24, 2014). Obama, M. 2010. “Remarks by the First Lady at Newsweek Q&A Event.” The White House, March 17. http://www.whitehouse.gov/ the‐press‐office/remarks‐first‐lady‐newsweek‐ qa‐event (accessed June 9, 2014). Obama, M. 2011. “Remarks of First Lady Michelle Obama at University of Northern Iowa Commencement.” The White House, May 7. http://www.whitehouse.gov/the‐ press‐office/2011/05/07/remarks‐first‐ lady‐michelle‐obama‐university‐northern‐ iowa‐commencement (accessed January 24, 2014). Obama, M. 2013. “Remarks by the First Lady at Careers in Film Symposium.” November 8. https://www.whitehouse.gov/the‐press‐ of fice/2013/11/08/remarks‐first‐lady‐ careers‐film‐symposium (accessed December 5, 2015). Obama, M. 2013d. “Remarks by the First Lady at a Fundraising Event.” The White House, June 6. https://www.whitehouse.gov/the‐ press‐office/2013/06/06/remarks‐first‐ lady‐fundraising‐event (accessed July 22, 2015). Obama, M. 2014. “Remarks by the First Lady at a Discussion with Education Stakeholders.” The White House, January 15. http://www. whitehouse.gov/the‐press‐of fice/ 2014/01/15/remarks‐first‐lady‐discussion‐ education‐stakeholders (accessed January 24, 2014). Parker, J. 2008. “Michelle Obama Defends Patriotism, Jokes of ‘Girl Fight’ on ‘View.’” ABC News, June 18. http://abcnews.go.



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com/Politics/Vote2008/story?id=5193627 (accessed June 14, 2014). Ross, B., and R. Schwartz. 2008. “The Rezko Connection: Obama’s Achilles Heel?” ABC News, January 10. http://abcnews.go.com/ Blotter/rezko‐connection‐obamas‐achilles‐heel/ story?id=4111483 (accessed June 23, 2014). Slater, D. 2008. “Campaign ’08: Michelle Obama’s Sidley Austin Years.” June 23.

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http://blogs.wsj.com/law/2008/06/23/ campaign‐08‐michelle‐obamas‐sidley‐austin‐ years/ (accessed June 10, 2014). Tapper, J. 2008. “Michelle Obama: ‘For the First Time in My Adult Lifetime, I’m Really Proud of My Country.’” ABC News, February 18.  http://abcnews.go.com/ blogs/politics/2008/02/michelle‐obam‐1– 2/ (accessed June 13, 2014).

Index

Aandahl, Fredrick, 340 abolitionism, 134, 155, 177, 181, 190, 248 abortion: 591, 622; see Roe v. Wade Ackerman, Kenneth J., 261 Adams Family Correspondence, 28, 30, 36 Adams, Abigail: 16, 17, 19, 36, 38, 39, 45, 50, 55, 89, 93, 95, 106, 177, 531, 608, 645; as adviser to John Adams, 20, 22, 24, 28, 30, 33, 320, 333; correspondence, 22, 24, 25–27, 28, 29, 33–34, 39; early life, 20–21; in Europe, 23, 24, 31; household management, 21, 22, 23, 30, 31, 35; interest in women’s rights, 20, 24, 32, 33, 34, 35 Adams, Benjamin, 40 Adams, Charles Francis, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30, 31, 97, 105, 107, 108 Adams, Charles, 21, 23, 25 Adams, Florence, 412, 414 Adams, George Washington, 95, 105, 106, 107–108 Adams, Henry, 301, 312, 316, 317 Adams, John (son of Louisa & John Quincy), 97, 108 Adams, John Quincy: 21, 22, 23, 25, 26, 32, 38, 54, 79, 84, 85, 90, 91, 94, 98, 120, 164, 165, 183; Diary, 75, 76, 81, 83; election of 1824, 99, 100, 101, 102, 103, 104; election

of 1828, 107, 108, 121, 122; as House of Representatives member, 108; as minister to Great Britain, 98; as minister to Prussia, 94, 95; as plenipotentiary to Russia, 97, 98, 107; as president, 104, 105, 106, 107 Adams, John: 17, 20, 22, 24, 26, 28–34, 42, 44, 59, 61–62, 73, 89, 91, 93, 95, 101–102, 105; Continental Congress, 21, 23, 31; in Europe, 23, 30, 32; presidency, 24, 25 Adams, Louisa Catherine Johnson: 26, 79, 81, 82, 83, 85, 89, 108–109, 112, 124; “Adventures of a Nobody,” 89, 90; depression, 90, 93, 97, 104; early life, 92, 93, 94; as First Lady, 104, 105, 106, 107; intellect, 89, 93, 97; marriage, 94, 95, 101, 101; “Mrs. Adams’s Tuesdays,” 101, 102; “Narrative of a Journey from Russia to France, 1815,” 89, 90; in Prussia, 94, 95; in Russia, 97, 98, 107; “Record of a Life, or My Story,” 89; social acumen, 98, 100, 101, 102–103 Adams, Samuel, 383, 397 Adams, Susanna, 21 Adams, Thomas Boylston, 21, 23, 31 Addams, Jane, 321 Adoption and Safe Families Act, 647 adultery, 120, 122

A Companion to First Ladies, First Edition. Edited by Katherine A. S. Sibley. © 2016 John Wiley & Sons, Inc. Published 2016 by John Wiley & Sons, Inc.



index

Afghanistan, 650, 655, 663, 664, 665 African Americans, 226, 227, 233–34, 242–43, 274, 291, 321, 330, 342, 348, 350, 592 Aiken, William A., 191 Aikman, Lonnelle, 494 Akers, Charles W., 32 al-Amoudi, Samia, 667 al-Qaida, 663 Alexander, Jeanette, 285 Algeo, Matthew, 490 Alien and Sedition Acts, 24 Alinsky, Saul, 638 Allen, Anne Beiser, 432 Allen, Forrest Clare, 477 Allgor, Catherine, 4, 91, 125, 152 American Revolution, 6, 11, 15, 21, 22, 25, 26, 27, 34, 91 American Student Union (ASU), 451 American Sunday School Union, 189 American University, 3 Americanness, 92 Ames, Mary Clemmer, 252 Ammon, Harry, 75, 79, 84 Amory, John K., 10 Anderson, James, 373 Anderson, Judith Icke, 329, 335 Anderson, Marian, 451 Andrews, Landall Watson, 136 Anglican Church, 7 Anthony, Carl Sferrazza: 2, 18, 75, 79, 143, 145, 151, 153, 162, 187, 193, 230, 233, 236, 241, 289, 295, 336, 593, 595, 596, 607; on Ellen Wilson, 340, 348, 350, 351, 352, 368; on Grace Coolidge, 415, 417, 419, 420, 421; on Helen Taft, 321, 329, 331, 333, 336; on Lady Bird Johnson, 522, 523; on Lou Henry Hoover, 428 Anthony, Susan B., 236, 241, 291 anti-Catholicism, 383 Appleton, Elizabeth Means, 189 Appleton, Jesse, 188, 192 Arden, Elizabeth, 500 aristocracy, 91, 92, 94, 134, 135 Arthur, Chester A., 262, 263, 323 Arthur, Ellen Herndon, 262, 263 Arthur, Nellie, 262, 263 Ashurst, Henry, 371 Atkins, Jonathan, 124 Atwater, Lee, 622 Auchampaugh, Philip, 198 Auchinchloss, Hugh D., 504 Auchinchloss, Janet Lee Bouvier, 504 Axelrod, David, 689

717

Axson, Eddie, 352 Axson, Stockton, 345 Bach, Jennifer, 224 Bacourt, Adolphe Fourier, 134, 135 Badeau, Adam, 243 Baker, Howard, 596 Baker, James, 595, 626 Baker, Jean H., 210, 220, 227 Baker, Mary Elizabeth Speer Lane, 198, 199, 200, 202 Baker, Ray Stannard, 340, 344, 354, 368, 375 Baker, Susan, 626 Balcerski, Thomas, 180 Bancroft, George, 172 Barbara Bush Foundation for Family Literacy, 606, 625, 630 Barbary pirates, 48 Barber, James David, 429 Barca, Frances Calderon de la, 186 Barker, Charles, 335 Barlow, John, 53 Barnum, P. T., 187 Barre, W. L., 183 Barrymore, Ethyl, 384 Baruch, Belle, 359 Baruch, Bernard, 359, 372 Basch, Norma, 121, 122 Bassett, Margaret, 113, 115, 122 Battelle, Kenneth, 506 Battle of Bunker Hill, 22 Beach Boys, 595 Beasley, Maurine H., 3, 340, 429–30, 494, 501, 524, 528, 662 Begin, Menachem, 572 Bell, John, 165 Benton, Thomas Hart, 153 Bentsen, Lloyd, 621 Benze, James, 585, 586, 587, 590, 591, 594, 596, 597, 599 Berg, A. Scott, 358, 363, 370, 371, 373 Berkin, Carol, 236 Berlin Wall, 629 Bernstein, Carl, 651 Berry, Martha, 353 Beschloss, Michael, 515, 521, 531, 663 Best, Gary Dean, 435 Bethune, Mary McLeod, 450 Betty (enslaved), 117, 118 Bicknell, Grace, 348, 355 Bilbo, Theodore, 467 Bingham, Anne, 47

718

index

bipartisanship, 69, 73, 615, 625, 655, 659 Birchard, Sardis, 250, 251 Birkner, Michael, 210 Birney, Frank, 586 Bittinger, Cynthia, 415, 417, 419, 420, 421 Black Hawk War (1832), 217 Black, Jeremiah S., 209 Black, Ruby A., 448, 453, 454 Black, Samuel P., 160 Blackburn, Gideon, 118 Blaesing, Elizabeth Ann (Britton), 383 Blaesing, James, 383 Blaine, Emmons, 275 Blaine, Harriet, 275 Blaine, James G., 251, 261, 275, 276 Blaine, Walker, 275 Blair, Karen J., 436 Blair, Tony, 665 Bliss, D. Willard, 260 Bliss, Mary Elizabeth Taylor “Betty” 179, 180, 181–82 Bliss, William “Perfect,” 180 Bloomer, Hortense Neahr, 552 Bloomer, Robert “Rob,” 552 Bloomer, William, 552 Bloomer, William, Jr., “Bill,” 552 Bloomfield-Zeisler, Fannie, 329 Blum, John Morton, 335 Blumenthal, Sidney, 597 Blumenthal, W. Michael, 578 Bly, Nellie, 280 Boas, Norman F., 191 Bobbé, Dorothie, 31 Boller, Paul: 144, 154, 607; on Grace Coolidge, 415, 418, 420–21; on Rachel Jackson, 114, 115–16, 118, 121; on Pat Nixon, 535, 545 Bolling, Anne Wigginton, 359 Bond, Carrie Jacobs, 386 Bones, Helen, 360 Boone, Joel T., 390, 391, 392, 393 Booth, John Wilkes, 224 Borneman, Walter, 159 Borrelli, MaryAnne, 340, 654, 668 Boudoir Mirrors of Washington (Anonymous), 425 Bouvier, John Vernou, III, 504 Boyarsky, Bill, 587, 588 Boyle, Gregory, 669 Boynton, Silas, 260 Bradford, Sarah, 513 Bradwell, James, 225

Bradwell, Myra, 225 Brady, Patricia, 19, 112, 113, 114, 117, 118, 123 Brandon, Dorothy, 494 Braswel, Charles, 288 Brennan, Mary C., 3, 535, 537 Britton, Nan, 383, 384, 396–97, 398 Brock, David, 643–44, 650 Broder, David, 623 Brooke, Edward W., 605, 638 Brooks, Geraldine, 112, 113 Broomfield, Louis, 613 Brown v. Board of Education, 580, 708, 709 Brown, Bernice, 590 Brown, Edmund G. “Pat,” 543, 589 Brown, Harry J., 261 Brown, Seymour, 361 Browning, Elizabeth Barrett, 342 Browning, Robert, 342 Bruni, Frank, 660 Bryan, Helen, 19 Bryan, Mary B., 294, 295 Bryan, William Jennings, 289, 345, 346, 361, 363–64, 372 Brynner, Yul, 586 Brzezinski, Zbigniew K., 572 Buchanan, Anne, 205 Buchanan, Edward Y., 200, 207 Buchanan, James: 177, 197, 200, 207, 209, 210–11, 222, 223; as ambassador to Great Britain, 201, 202; relationship with Harriet Lane Johnston, 200, 201, 202, 204–205, 206–207; as president, 203, 204–206 Buchanan, Pat, 629 Buckley, William F., Jr., 593 Budinger, Meghan C., 75, 77 Buell, Don Carlos, 171 Bumgarner, John, 160, 161, 162, 163, 169, 171, 172, 174 Burke, Pamela Wilcox, 112, 117, 23, 124, 125 Burleson, Albert S., 350 Burma, 655, 661, 667 Burner, David, 433 Burnette, Anne E., 380, 383 Burns, Lisa M., 4, 429, 430, 524 Burns, Robert, 133, 225 Burr, Aaron, 44, 45, 52, 53 Burrell, Barbara, 635 Burritt, Elihu, 190 Bush, Barbara (granddaughter), 659



index

Bush, Barbara Pierce: 586, 639, 660, 661; C. Fred’s Story: A Dog’s Life, 606, 616, 617; campaign roles, 615, 655, 618, 622, 630; convention speech of 1992, 629, 630; depression, 615, 616; early life and education, 608, 609, 610; as First Lady, 623, 624, 625; HIV/AIDS advocacy, 626; homelessness advocacy, 626, 627; literacy and education advocacy, 606, 617, 618, 622, 624, 625, 628, 631, 632; A Memoir, 605, 609, 610, 612, 618, 622; Millie’s Book, 606, 625; Reflections: Life after the White House, 605, 630; relationship with husband, 606, 608, 610, 611–14, 623, 627, 632; Wellesley commencement speech, 604–605, 627–29, 632 Bush, Columba, 616 Bush, Dorothy Walker “Doro,” 614, 616 Bush, Dorothy Wear Walker, 610, 611 Bush, George H. W. “Poppy”: 600, 606, 608, 610, 611–14, 612, 615, 616, 617, 627, 632, 641, 643, 653, 659; relationship with wife, 606, 608, 610, 611–14, 627, 632 Bush, George P., 616 Bush, George W.: 601, 606, 607, 612, 613, 622, 650, 656; President’s Emergency Plan for AIDS Relief, 661, 666, 672; President’s Malaria Initiative, 661, 666, 672; relationship with Laura Bush, 658, 660, 661 Bush, Jenna, 659 Bush, John Ellis “Jeb,” 607, 614, 631 Bush, Laura Welch: 3, 139, 377, 606, 618, 623, 653; campaign roles, 655, 657, 658, 659–60, 665; criticism of, 655, 667–67, 670; early life and education, 655, 666, 657, 658; education advocacy, 653, 654, 658, 659, 660, 661, 664; as First Lady, 659, 660, 661–662, 663–65; Heart Truth campaign, 668, 669; historic preservation advocacy, 653; human rights advocacy, 655; international advocacy, 665, 666, 667–68, 672; Laura Bush Foundation for America’s Libraries, 668; National Book Festival, 653, 654, 662; as presidential adviser, 660, 661; racial awareness, 656, 658; Spoken from the Heart, 607, 655, 657, 662, 667, 670, 671; USMiddle East Partnership for Breast Cancer Awareness and Research, 665, 666; women’s empowerment advocacy, 653, 654, 658, 660, 670, 672 Bush, Marvin Pierce, 614, 616 Bush, Neil Mallon, 614

719

Bush, Noelle, 616 Bush, Pauline Robinson “Robin,” 613, 614, 622, 626, 631 Bush, Prescott, 610, 611, 615 Butler, Benjamin, 129 Butt, Archibald, 307, 310, 317, 325, 335 Butterfield, Lyman H., 28, 29, 36, 90 Byrnes, James F., 480 Cade, Kathy, 578 Cahalan, Sally Smith, 198 Caldwell, Mary French, 122 Caldwell, Sam, 170 Calhoun, Charles William, 277 Calhoun, Floride, 125, 165 Calhoun, John C., 100, 132, 132, 181, 219 Calhoun, Lucia, 258 Callender, James, 49 Calvert, Rosalie Stier, 50 Campbell, Edwina, 242 Campbell, Karlyn Kohrs, 608, 623 Campbell, Tom, 323 Cannon, Lou, 589, 590, 594, 595, 596, 598, 599, 600 Capital Press Club, 542 Capper, Arthur, 420 Cappon, Lester J., 29 Card, Andrew, 657 Card, Kathleene, 657 Carlin, Diana B., 4, 522 Carlson, Margaret, 627 Carnegie, Dale, 220 Caro, Robert, 521 Caroli, Betty Boyd: 18, 147, 151, 153, 162, 187, 191, 193, 234, 241, 294, 295, 607, 671; on Betty Ford, 559, 567; on Elizabeth Monroe, 76, 79; on Ellen Wilson, 340, 348, 351; on Grace Coolidge, 415, 419; on Helen Taft, 325, 329, 331, 333, 336; on Lady Bird Johnson, 527, 535, 545, 549; on Laura Bush, 657, 659, 663; on Lou Henry Hoover, 423, 428–429; on Pat Nixon, 535, 545, 549 Carow, Charles, 299, 300 Carow, Emily, 299, 300, 302, 310 Carow, Gertrude Elizabeth Tyler, 299, 300 Carpenter, Frank, 266, 273 Carpenter, Liz, 522, 523, 524, 525, 528, 632, 659 Carter, Amy, 574 Carter, Chip, 572 Carter, Earl, 572 Carter, Jack, 572

720

index

Carter, Jeff, 572 Carter, Jimmy: 489, 512, 569, 572, 574, 592, 616, 641, 645; election of 1976, 563, 564, 574, 577, 579–80; election of 1980, 580; Keeping Faith, 2, 572, 573; relationship with wife, 570, 572, 573–74, 576, 577–79; Soviet invasion of Afghanistan, 572; White House Diary, 573 Carter, Rosalynn: 1, 2, 380, 428, 497, 524, 573,; campaign roles, 571–72, 573, 574, 579–80; criticisms of, 577, 578; diplomatic work, 571, 572, 573; as First Lady, 2, 355, 377, 623, 631; First Lady from Plains, 2, 573; mental health advocacy, 571, 574, 646, 662; post-presidential life, 571, 577; relationship with husband, 570, 572, 573–74, 576, 577–79; women’s rights advocacy, 580 Carver, M. Heather, 479 Carysfort, Elizabeth, 95 Casals, Pablo, 508 Cass, Lewis, 179 Cassini, Igor, 504 Cassini, Marguerite, 317 Cassini, Oleg, 506, 513 Cather, Willa, 411 Catholicism: 41, 119, 285, 321, 346; see also anti-Catholicism Catt, Carrie Chapman, 366 Catton, Bruce, 413 Cavendish, Georgiana (Duchess of Devonshire), 41 Cecil, Robert, 374 Chafee, William, 455 Challinor, Joan R., 90 Chamberlain, Joshua Lawrence, 260 Chancellor, William Estabrook, 396 Chandler, Alfred D., 335 Chaney, Mayris, 452 Chanler, Margaret, 317 Chanler, Winthrop, 317 Chapple, Joe Mitchell, 397 Cheathem, Mark, 117 Cheney, Amy, 301 Cherokees, 53 Chesnut, Mary Boykin, 157, 205 Chickamaugas, 112 Chickasaws, 53 Chidester, Jeffrey, 596 Children’s Defense Fund, 640, 641 Childress, Anderson, 160, 161 Childress, Benjamin, 160 Childress, Elizabeth (daughter), 160

Childress, Elizabeth, 160 Childress, Joel, 160 Childress, John, 160 Childress, Susan, 160 China, 485 Chinn, Julia, 166 Chippewas, 206 Chitwood, Oliver P., 145, 146, 147, 151 Christian, George, 393, 394, 396 Church, Angelica Schuyler, 44, 45, 47 Church, Frank, 576 Churchill, Sarah, 453 Churchill, Winston, 453, 483, 486 Civil and Diplomatic Appropriation Act (1852), 186 Civil Rights Act (1964), 523, 525, 527 Civil War, 139, 171, 192, 214, 221, 223, 232, 233, 239, 249, 257, 283, 286 Clark, William, 594, 595 Clarke, Mary Cowden, 186 Claxton, Jimmy Lou Sparkman, 173, 174 Clay-Clopton, Virginia, 197 Clay, Henry, 54, 100, 103–104, 120–21, 133–34, 164, 167–68, 181, 183, 216, 217, 218 Cleaves, Freeman, 143, 144 Clemenceau, Georges, 368 Clements, Kendrick A., 434 Clemmer, Mary, 236 Cleveland, Frances Folsom “Frank,” 208, 211, 265, 266, 268, 263, 269, 270, 271, 272, 276, 277, 278, 279, 330, 503, 575 Cleveland, Francis Grover, 272 Cleveland, Frank, 268 Cleveland, Grover, 208, 263, 266, 268, 269, 270, 271, 272, 275, 278, 279 Cleveland, Oscar Folsom, 269 Cleveland, Richard Folsom, 272 Cleveland, Rose Elizabeth, 263, 265, 266, 267, 278, 279 Cleveland, Ruth, 265, 271 Clifford, Clark, 490 Clingman, Thomas L., 205 Clinton Foundation, 650 Clinton, Catherine, 220, 227 Clinton, Chelsea Victoria, 585, 640, 647 Clinton, DeWitt, 67 Clinton, George, 67 Clinton, Hillary Rodham: 3, 193, 596, 605, 631, 632, 635, 659, 660, 661, 664, 672; campaign roles, 655; criticism of, 635, 641, 642–43, 645, 646–47; early life and



index

education, 636, 637, 638, 639; feminism, 641, 644–45; as First Lady, 332, 333, 336, 353, 355, 377, 503, 515, 531, 635, 636, 643, 645–46; Hard Choices, 636; It Takes a Village, 639, 647; health care reform efforts, 636, 646–47, 648; law practice, 641, 642, 647; Living History, 635–36, 642, 649; political ambition, 642, 643, 644, 646; presidential bids, 636, 650; relationship with Bill Clinton, 635, 636, 639–40, 642–44, 648–49, 650–51; religious faith, 637, 638; as US secretary of state, 650; as US Senator, 650; Whitewater scandal, 647, 648; women’s and children’s rights advocacy, 604, 639, 641, 647, 651 Clinton, William Jefferson “Bill”: 629, 631, 641, 643, 648, 660; as Arkansas governor, 641, 642; relationship with Hillary Clinton, 635, 639–40, 642–44, 648–49, 650–51; Whitewater scandal, 647, 648; womanizing, 644, 648, 649, 650 Cobb, Howell, 204 Cobb, Mary Ann, 205 Cockburn, Alexander, 71 Coffee, John, 124 Cohen, Gary, 394 Cohen, Richard, 664 Colacello, Bob, 589, 592, 596 Cold War, 463, 465, 469, 472, 500, 508, 514, 515, 593, 598 Cole, Donald, 129, 139 Coles, Edward, 59, 60 Coletta, Paolo, 335 Colley, Linda, 43 Collins, Carrie, 332 Colman, Edna M., 181, 307 colonialism, 469 Committee of Fifty, 349 communism, 451, 587, 589 Compromise of 1850, 184 Conkling Roscoe, 260, 251, 261 Connolly, John, 508 Constitutional Convention, 13, 14, 62 consumerism, 492, 499 Converse, Augustus L., 139 Converse, Marion Singleton Deveaux, 131, 132, 138–39 Cook, Blanche Wiesen, 439, 441, 442, 445, 447, 455 Coolidge, Calvin, Jr., 410, 412, 416 Coolidge, Calvin: 314, 388, 394, 406, 408, 425; relationship with the Hardings, 408, 409;

721

relationship with wife, 404, 405, 406, 407, 411, 412, 413–17, 418–19; as US president, 409, 410, 411, 412 Coolidge, Cynthia, 412 Coolidge, Florence Trumbull, 412, 414 Coolidge, Grace Goodhue: 386, 388, 404, 419, 428; advocacy for the hearing impaired, 411, 412, 421; as First Lady, 377, 409, 410, 411; relationship with the Hardings, 408, 409; relationship with husband, 404, 405, 406, 407, 411, 412, 413–17, 418–19; social acumen, 408, 413, 418, 419 Coolidge, John, 412, 414, 415 Coolidge, Lydia, 412, 415 Cooper, James Fenimore, 81, 133 Cooper, John Milton, Jr., 344, 358, 361, 363, 368, 370, 431 Coppinger, Alice Blaine, 275 Corbett, Katharine T., 90 Cordery, Stacy A., 309, 436 Cortelyou, George, 316 Costa Rica, 373 Cott, Nancy F., 435, 436 Cotton, Edward, 335 Coué, Emile, 390 Couric, Katie, 666 Covell, Ann, 193 Cowles, Anna, Roosevelt, 316 Cowles, Betsy Mix, 284 Cox, Tricia Nixon, 539 Cranch, Mary Smith, 27, 28 Cranch, Richard, 21 Cranch, William, 24 Crapol, Edward, 153, 155 Craven, Avery, 210 Crawford, Susanna Gerardine, 124 Crawford, William, 100, 102, 103, 104, 120 Creel, George, 374 Crockett, Davy, 189 Crook, William H., 230, 234, 271, 276 Crowninshield, Mary Boardman, 78, 79 Cuba, 186, 290, 291, 302, 304 cult of domesticity, 177, 381 culture of sensibility, 40, 43 Cunningham, Noble E., 75, 79 Curtis, Charles, 427 Curtis, George Ticknor, 207, 209, 210, 211 Custer, Libby, 236 Custis, Daniel Parke (husband), 8, 9 Custis, Daniel Parke (son), 8 Custis, Eleanor “Nelly,” (granddaughter), 12, 15

722 Custis, Eleanor Calvert “Nelly,” 10, 12, 181 Custis, Elizabeth “Eliza,” 12 Custis, Frances Parke, 8 Custis, George Washington “Wash,” 9, 12, 15 Custis, John Parke “Jacky,” 8, 10, 11, 12, 13 Custis, John, 8 Custis, Martha “Patty,” 12 Custis, Martha Parke “Patsy,” 8, 10, 11 Cutler, Manasseh, 46, 48, 49, 50 Cutts, Dolley, 132 Cutts, Mary Estelle Elizabeth, 63, 64, 66, 69, 70 Czolgosz, Leon, 292 Dallas, George, 169 Dallek, Robert, 521 Dalton, Kathleen, 309, 312, 313, 317 Dandridge, Frances Jones, 6 Dandridge, John, 6, 7, 8 Dandridge, William, 6 Daniel, Clifton Truman, 490 Daniel, Clifton, 486 Daniels, Jonathan, 368, 482 Daniels, Joseph, 346 Daniels, Josephus, 364, 365 Daugherty, Harry, 381, 383, 384, 389, 395 Daughters of the American Revolution, 274, 277, 450, 479, 480, 482 David, Irene, 494 David, Lester, 494, 535, 537, 549 Davis, Deborah, 308 Davis, Edith, 594 Davis, Jefferson, 131, 176, 204 Davis, John H., 504, 512 Davis, Loyal, 586, 588, 589, 590, 594 Davis, Richard, 586, 589 Davis, Sarah Knox Taylor, 179 Davis, Varina, 131, 180, 181, 192, 243 Day, David S., 430 Day, Ida Barber, 292 Day, Katie, 292 De Kroyft, Susan Helen, 186 Dean, J. W., 383 Dearborne, Henry, 53 Deaver, Michael, 588, 590, 594, 596 DeBarthe, Joseph, 381 Decatur, Stephen, 84 Declaration of Independence, 31, 183 Declaration of the Rights of Man, 41 DeLaney, Theodore, 150, 156, 157 Democratic Party: 138, 202, 203, 208, 314, 439, 443, 462, 480, 484, 638; and African

index

Americans, 450, 463, 527; as “common man” party, 135, 473; conservative/liberal split, 484, 489, 527; economic policy, 165, 272; women’s issues, 366, 445, 446 Democratic-Republicans, 77, 78, 79 Denison, Henry M., 153 Dennis, Ruth, 430 Dennison, Alice Tyler, 152, 153 Densmore, E. S., 275 Dent, Ellen Wrenshall, 237 Dent, Frederick F., 237, 238 Dent, John (son), 240 Dent, Lewis, 240 DeParle, Jason, 670 depression of 1819, 165 DePriest, Jessie, 425, 430 DePriest, Oscar Stanton, 430 Derby, Ethel Roosevelt, 316 Derby, Richard, 313 DeToledo, Bruno B., 295 DeToledo, John C., 295 Deveaux, Robert, 139 Dewalt, Christina Harter, 284 Dewalt, George, 284 Dewey, Thomas E., 484 Dewhirst, Robert E., 494, 501 DeWolfe, Esther Neely, 382 DeWolfe, Henry “Pete,” 381 DeWolfe, Marshall Eugene, 381, 382, 383 Diana (Princess of Wales), 626 Dickens, Charles, 183, 341 Dickerman, Marion, 445, 447 Dickinson, Emily, 664 Dickson, Harry Ellis, 621 Didion, Joan, 590 Diggins, John Patrick, 598, 600 Dinnerstein, Myra, 608 Dior, Christian, 500 Disraeli, Benjamin, 342 divorce, 115, 116, 120, 381, 384, 411, 416, 444, 447, 461, 464, 504, 510, 544, 545, 587 Dix, Dorothea, 186 Dixiecrats, 484 Dixon Healy, Diana, 418, 420 Dixon, Hattie, 389 Dodd, William E., 375 Doheny, Edward, 395 Dole, Bob, 621 Dole, Robert, 528 Dolly (enslaved), 232 Donelson, Andrew Jackson, 116, 123, 124, 125



index

Donelson, Emily Tennessee: 55, 111, 112, 122, 124; early life, 123, 124; Petticoat Affair, 124, 125, 126, 127; as White House hostess, 124, 126 Donelson, John (father), 111, 112, 113–14, 121 Donelson, John (son), 123 Donelson, Rachel Stockley, 111, 114, 121 Donelson, Severus, 116 Doud, Elvira Carlson, 493 Doud, John S., 493 Douglas, Melvyn, 452 Douglas, Mike, 656, 657 Douglas, Stephen A., 190, 219, 221 Douglass, Frederick, 227, 253 Dove, Rita, 664 Doyle, Arthur Conan, 368 Drown, Helene, 535, 540, 541, 543, 544 Dryden, Mildred, 480 Duane, William, 67 Dubois, Diana, 513 Dubovoy, Sina, 341, 343, 344, 348, 350, 351, 353, 354 Duckett, Kenneth, 394 Duffy, Herbert, 335 Dugger, Ronnie, 588, 592 Dukakis, Michael, 621, 643 Dukakis, Olympia, 621 DuMond, Frank, 352 Dunlap, Annette, 269, 278 Dunning, William A., 234 Dusinberre, William, 162, 174 Dykes, Judy, 656 Eagleton, Tom, 489 Earhart, Amelia, 448 Eastin, Mary, 124 Eaton Affair. see Petticoat Affair Eaton, John, 55, 119, 123, 124, 126, 130, 165 Eaton, Margaret O’Neale “Peggy,” 55, 112, 124, 125, 126, 130, 165 Edelman, Marian Wright, 639, 640, 647 Edgeworth, Maria, 186 Edson, Susan Ann, 260 Edward VII (King), 205, 206 Edwards, Anne, 588, 590, 595, 598 Edwards, Elizabeth Todd, 216, 217, 226 Edwards, Jonathan, 299 Edwards, Ninian W. (son), 217 Edwards, Ninian, 217 Edwards, Rebecca, 269 Eggen, Dan, 668

723

Ehrlichman, John, 545, 549 Eisenhower, Dwight David, 483, 493, 494, 496–97, 499, 501 Eisenhower, Dwight Doud, 493 Eisenhower, Dwight, 485, 486 Eisenhower, John S. D., 180, 493 Eisenhower, Julie Nixon, 494 Eisenhower, Julie Nixon, 535, 537, 543, 545 Eisenhower, Mamie Doud: 145, 428, 486, 496, 497, 660, 661; as cultural icon, 492, 494, 495, 499, 500; early life and education, 492, 493; fashion, 499, 500, 501; frugality, 493, 494, 495–96; relationship with Dwight Eisenhower, 493, 496–97; relationship with press, 496, 507 Eisenhower, Susan, 494 Eksterowicz, Anthony J., 429 Elder, A. P., 267 Electoral College, 45, 103, 104, 164, 259, 543 Eliot, George, 342 Eliot, Marc, 587 Elizabeth (Queen of Great Britain), 496, 610 Ellet, Elizabeth F., 3, 148, 152, 178, 179, 186, 187, 192 Ellis, Catherine Parrish, 205 Ellis, Joseph J., 18, 35 Ellis, Mary, 78 Ellis, Nancy Bush, 618 Elmira Prison (New York), 139 emancipation, 239 Enlightenment, 41 environmentalism, 532 Eppes, Francis Wayles, 48, 49 Eppes, John Wayles, 51 Eppes, Maria Jefferson, 29, 40, 45, 47, 49, 50, 51 Equal Rights Amendment (ERA), 2, 455, 548, 556, 559, 574, 591, 670, 710 Essary, Helen, 489 Estabrook, Susan, 431 Evarts, William, 252, 253 Executive Mansion. see White House Fair Deal, 485 Fairchild, Helen, 341 Fairfax, Sally Cary, 9 Fall, Albert, 371, 373, 395 Family and Medical Leave Act (1993), 651 Farley, James A., 451 fatalism, 154 Fausold, Martin L., 435 Federalists, 45, 50, 51, 52, 66, 68, 70, 91, 99, 189

724

index

Felir, Charles, 285 Felix, Antonia, 671 feminism, 3, 33, 34, 63, 176, 244, 330, 343, 433–34, 435–36, 455, 530, 532, 548–49, 567, 580, 591, 605, 627, 640–41, 645, 655, 658, 670, 710; see also female voters; Feminist Majority; Friedan, Betty; Nineteenth Amendment; women’s suffrage Feminist Majority, 663 Ferraro, Geraldine, 617, 618 Ferrell, Robert, 383, 398, 416, 417, 419–20, 421, 490 Few, Frances, 69 Fields, Joseph, 18 Fifteenth Amendment, 250 Fillmore, Abigail “Abbie” (daughter), 181, 187, 188 Fillmore, Abigail Powers: 176, 177, 178, 182, 183, 184, 189, 190, 193, 194; as First Lady, 182, 184, 185, 186, 187; White House library, 184, 185, 186 Fillmore, Caroline, 188 Fillmore, Mary Abigail, 183 Fillmore, Millard Powers (son), 183 Fillmore, Millard Powers: 176, 177, 178, 180, 183, 184, 188; presidency, 182, 184, 186, 187; US House of Representatives, 183; vice presidency, 181, 183, 188 Finefrock, John L., 209, 211 Finkelman, Paul, 188 First Bloom program, 669 First Continental Congress (1774), 11, 21, 92 First Ladies Initiative, 672 First Ladies: Influence and Image (C-SPAN), 3 fiscal conservatism, 32, 577 Fish, Julia, 242 Fitzgerald, Jennifer, 622, 629 Fitzwater, Marlin, 595, 624 Fix, Julie K., 75, 77, 79, 81, 84 Flinn, Susan K., 637, 651 Flowers, Gennifer, 644, 648, 650 Folsom, Emma Harmon, 268, 269 Folsom, Frank, 269 Folsom, John, 269 Folsom, Oscar, 269 Fonda, Jane, 608 Foner, Eric, 234 Forbes, Charles, 388 Ford, Betty Bloomer Warren: 1, 2, 355, 428, 489, 503, 524, 562, 564, 592, 631; alcoholism, 564, 565, 566, 592; breast cancer, 557, 558, 561, 566, 594, 666; campaign

roles, 563, 564; early life and education, 552, 553; as First Lady, 355, 552, 556, 591; relationship with Gerald Ford, 552, 554, 555; women’s rights, 559, 560, 591, 710 Ford, Gerald: 489, 549, 565, 566, 591–92, 616; relationship with Betty Ford, 552, 554, 555; in US House of Representatives, 552, 563; as US president, 556, 557, 563–64 Ford, Janet, 554 Ford, Nancy, 591 Forney, John W., 204 Foster Grandparents program, 2, 590 Foster, Vince, 647 Fourteenth Amendment, 250 Franklin, Benjamin, 40 Frazier, Mary, 32 Frederick William III (King of Prussia), 95 Frederick, Richard, 384 Free Soil Party, 137, 249 Freedman, Estelle B., 436 Freedman, Max, 526 Freedom from Hunger campaign, 376 Fremont, Jesse Benton, 153 Fremont, John C., 249 French Revolution, 28 Friedan, Betty, 530, 548, 586, 616, 658 Frost, John, 179 Fry, J. Reese, 179 Fuess, Claude, 418, 420 Fugitive Slave Act, 184 Fulghum, Robert, 628 Furman, Bess, 333, 425, 426 Gable, Clark, 586 Gaddis, Lewis, 488 Gadsden Purchase, 190 Gaillard, John, 100 Gale, Ivah, 414 Gallatin, Albert, 53, 59, 61, 79 Gallatin, Hannah Nicholson, 47, 59, 79 Galt, Alexander, 359 Galt, Norman, 358, 359 Gann, Dolly, 425, 427 Gardiner, Alexander, 150 Gardiner, David, 150, 151 Gardiner, Juliana, 149, 151 Gardiner, Margaret, 149, 151 Gardiner, Sarah Diodati, 150 Garfield, Abram, 258 Garfield, Edward, 258 Garfield, Eliza, 255, 257 Garfield, Harry, 258



index

Garfield, Irvin, 258 Garfield, James A.: 252, 254, 255, 311; anti-slavery views, 257; assassination, 260, 288; in Congress, 257, 258; relationship with Lucretia Garfield, 256, 257, 258, 259, 261; as US president, 259, 260 Garfield, Lucretia Rudolph: 255, 259, 263, 265; early life and education, 255, 256, 257; as First Lady, 259, 260; promotion of husband’s legacy, 260, 261; relationship with James Garfield, 256, 257, 258, 259, 260, 261 Garfield, Mary “Mollie,” 258 Garrett, Mary Elizabeth, 274 Gates, Gary Paul, 595 Gates, George Porterfield, 476 Gaulle, Charles de, 506, 513 Geer, Emily Apt, 250, 253, 254 Gelles, Edith B., 33, 34, 35 gender roles: in the early Republic, 9, 40, 41, 44, 663; in the nineteenth century, 113, 121, 122, 125, 127, 156, 173–74, 219, 280, 302; in the twentieth century, 327, 330, 336, 365, 396, 442, 462, 497, 559, 621, 635, 642, 644, 650, 654, 667, 710 George W. Bush Institute, 3 George, Alexander, 373 George, Anna, 290 George, Juliette, 373 Gerald Ford Library and Museum, 1 Gerard, James W., 365 Gerhart, Ann, 654, 656, 658, 664, 671 Germany, 484 Germond, Jack, 592 Gerth, Jeff, 643, 648, 650 Ghani, Rula, 672 Gilbert, Clinton Wallace, 396 Gilig, Erik, 129 Gillet, Ransom Hooker, 172 Gillette, Michael L., 517, 520, 527 Gilman, Charlotte Perkins, 287, 321 Gilman, Daniel Cott, 77 Gioia, Dana, 669 Gish, Dorothy, 387 Gish, Lillian, 384 Giuliani, Rudy, 650 Glad, Betty, 570, 577, 580 Godbold, E. Stanly, 579 Godfrey, Martha, 107 Goldstein, Betty. see Friedan, Betty Goldwater, Barry, 510, 521, 544, 589 Goodwin, Doris Kearns, 442, 668 Gorbachev, Mikhail, 598, 599, 600, 627

725

Gorbachev, Raisa, 617, 618, 627, 628 Gore, Al, 629, 665 Gould, Lewis L.: 2, 3, 18, 147, 294, 340, 416, 423, 570; on Barbara Bush, 607, 631, 632; on Betty Ford, 556, 566; on Edith Roosevelt, 302, 304, 308, 309, 310, 311, 313, 317; on Helen Taft, 321, 329, 331, 333–34, 336; on Lady Bird Johnson, 527, 528, 529; on Lou Henry Hoover, 428, 429, 434; on Pat Nixon, 535, 545 Gouverneur, Samuel Lawrence, 84 Gowers, William R., 288 Grace, William, 243 Graham, Billy, 598 Graham, Jim, 626 Grant, Ellen, 239 Grant, Fred, 238 Grant, Frederick D., 291 Grant, Jesse, Jr., 235 Grant, Julia Dent: 230, 235, 237, 241, 291; as First Lady, 241, 242, 330; memoirs, 236, 237, 239, 243; relationship with Ulysses Grant, 235, 236, 237, 238, 239, 241; and slavery, 236, 237, 239, 240 Grant, Ulysses (son), 238 Grant, Ulysses S., 235–39, 241, 242, 258 Grayson, Altrude Gordon, 366 Grayson, Cary Travers, 347, 360, 364, 366, 368, 369, 370, 373 Great Depression, 16, 447 Great Railroad Strike, 389 Greeley, Horace, 241 Green, Constance McLaughlin, 307 Green, John Robert, 557 Greenfield, Jeff, 659 Greer, Germaine, 658 Grey, Edward, 372 Griffis, William, 184 Griffith, D. W., 387 Grimes, Ann, 607 Griswold, Florence, 352 Grob, Gerald, 581 Gromyko, Andrei, 598 Grundy, Felix, 161 Guiteau, Charles J., 260 Gullan, Harold I., 608 Gurewitsch, David, 448 Gutin, Myra: 3, 333, 576, 671; on Barbara Bush, 605, 607, 618, 622, 624, 625–26, 630, 631; on Lady Bird Johnson, 522, 527 Gwin, Mary Bell, 204 Gwin, William McKendree, 204

726

index

Hadley, Stephen, 654 Hager, Jenna Bush, 631, 659 Hagner, Isabelle “Belle,” 304, 305, 306, 309, 310, 316, 349 Haig, Alexander, 594, 595, 598 Haldeman, H. R., 545, 549 Hale, J. E., 270 Haley, Jim, 411, 420 Halford, Elijah W., 275 Halford, Mary Frances, 275 Hall, Albert, 256 Halpin, Maria, 269 Halstead, Murat, 293 Halston, 506 Hambly, Barbary, 37 Hamby, Alonzo, 488, 490 Hamill, Sam, 664 Hamilton, Alexander (physician), 117 Hamilton, Alexander, 32, 44 Hamilton, Barbara, 37 Hamilton, Holman, 180, 181 Hammond, Charles, 121 Hampton, Wade, III, 131 Hanchette, John, 660 Hanna, Mark, 289 Hannah (enslaved), 117, 118 Harding-Coolidge Theatrical League, 384 Harding, Abigail, 383 Harding, Florence Mabel Kling: 2, 3, 226, 377, 380, 391, 396, 490, 503, 594, 631; campaign roles, 384, 385; early life and education, 380, 381; fashion, 385, 386, 702; as First Lady, 380, 385–86, 387–88, 389, 390, 391–95, 428; Front Porch, 386, 395; health issues, 382, 383, 389–90, 392, 557; relationship with Warren G. Harding, 381–82, 383, 393–94, 397, 417, 418, 420; support for veterans, 226, 388, 546, 591; trip to Alaska, 391, 392; women’s issues, 388, 389, 390, 391 Harding, Peter, 383 Harding, Warren G.: 314, 332, 374, 424; extramarital relationships, 382, 383–84, 397, 398; health issues, 392, 393; as US president, 385, 386, 387, 391, 392; as US Senator, 383, 384 Hardy, Rob, 280 Hardy, Thomas, 342 Harlem Renaissance, 664 Harriet Lane Home for Invalid Children of Baltimore City, 208, 209, 211 Harrington, Page, 670

Harris, Bill, 113, 419, 420 Harris, Louis, 563 Harrison, Anna, 142, 143, 144, 145, 147, 149, 156, 157 Harrison, Benjamin, 143, 271, 272, 275, 277, 279–80, 288, 301, 321, 372 Harrison, Caroline Scott, 176, 265, 272, 273, 274, 275, 278, 280, 306 Harrison, Elizabeth, 277 Harrison, Jane Irwin, 142 Harrison, John Scott, 143 Harrison, Marthena, 273, 276 Harrison, Mary Lord Dimmick, 273, 277, 280 Harrison, Mary Saunders, 273, 276 Harrison, Russell, 273 Harrison, William Henry, 71, 135, 136, 142, 143–44, 166, 187, 255 Harrison, William Henry, Jr. (son), 142 Hart, Gary, 643 Hartford Convention, 61 Hartzell, Josiah, 284 Hatch, Alden, 362, 366, 371, 494 Hate Crimes Statistics Act, 624 Haugwitz, Friedrich Wilhelm von, 95 Havel, Vaclav, 665 Haven, Harriet, 184, 185, 188 Hawthorne, Nathaniel, 189, 190, 191, 202 Hawthorne, Sophia, 202 Hay, Eliza Monroe, 76, 77, 81–82 Hay, George, 79 Hay, John, 301 Hay, Melba Porter, 148, 151 Hay, Peter, 333 Hayes, Fanny, 252 Hayes, George, 250 Hayes, Lucy Webb: 143, 251, 254, 256, 259, 261, 263, 271, 278; antislavery leanings, 248, 249, 253; early life and education, 248, 249; as First Lady, 248, 252; relationship with Rutherford Hayes, 247, 249, 250, 251; social equality activism, 253, 254; temperance, 247, 248, 252–53; women’s suffrage, 250, 253 Hayes, Rutherford B.: 287, 250, 251; in the Civil War, 249, 250; election of 1876, 251, 252, 255; as Ohio governor, 250, 251, 252; relationship with Lucy Hayes, 247, 249, 250, 251 Hayes, Scott, 252 Hayes, Sophia, 250 Haynes, Sam W., 167, 170 Hayward, Steven, 599 Head Start, 521, 524, 525, 527, 624 Hearst, William Randolph, 411



index

Heckler-Feltz, Cheryl, 193 Heffron, Margery, 90, 91 Hegeman, Carol A., 494 Helena (Queen of Italy), 368 Helping America’s Youth (HAY), 669, 670 Hemings, Sally, 37, 49, 52, 384 Henry, James Buchanan, 200 Hepburn, Katharine, 586 Hermitage, 116 Herndon, William H., 221, 224, 225 Herron, Eleanor, 331 Herron, Emily, 321 Herron, John, 321 Herron, Nancy L., 295 Hertz, Rosanna, 608 Heymann, C. David, 512, 513 Hickey, Robert, 72 Hickok, Lorena “Hick,” 447, 448, 450, 451, 455 High, Ephram, 389 Highway Beautification Act (1965), 528, 529 Hilles, Charles Dewey, 391 Hinckley, John, Jr., 593 Hine, Thomas, 499 Hirst, David W., 340 Hitchcock, Gilbert Monell, 373 HIV/AIDS: 599, 626, 653, 666; see also Bush, George W: President’s Emergency Plan for AIDS Relief Hobart, Garret Augustus, 291, 303 Hogan, Margaret A., 29 Hoganson, Kristin, 302 Holden, Ardis, 587 Holden, William, 587 Holley, Horace, 85 Holloway, Laura C.: 178, 200, 333; on Abigail Fillmore, 184, 185, 187; on Anna Harrison, 143, 144; on Julia Gardiner Tyler, 148, 149; on Lucretia Tyler, 145, 146; on Margaret Taylor, 178, 179, 181, 182; on Rachel Jackson, 112, 113, 123, 126; on Sarah Polk, 166, 171, 172 Holocaust, 452 Holt, Marilyn Irvin, 494, 497 Holt, Michael F., 255 Holton, Woody, 34 Homeboy Industries, 669 Homer, 341 Hoogenboom, Ari, 248, 254 Hoover, Herbert: 16, 314, 427, 434, 435; relationship with wife, 424, 433, 434; as US secretary of commerce, 424, 425

727

Hoover, Irwin “Ike,” 273, 397, 317, 330, 425, 426 Hoover, Lou Henry: 84–85, 393, 423–24, 425, 497; as First Lady, 426, 427, 428, 432, 434; early life and education, 424, 425; Girl Scouts advocacy, 425, 428, 431, 432, 433, 436, 437, 546; as proto-feminist, 435, 436; relationship with husband, 424, 433, 434 Hopkins, Charlotte, 348, 355 Hornsby, Sarah Jeanine, 122 Horton, Willie, 622 House Un-American Activities Committee (HUAC), 451 House, Colonel, 346 House, Edward, 361, 366, 368, 369, 375 Howe, George Frederick, 262 Hoyt, Mary Fitch, 575, 578 Hubble, Webster, 647 Hudson, Rock, 599 Huerta, Victoriano, 346, 347 Hughes, Charles Evans, 364, 394, 396 Hughes, Langston, 664 Humphrey, Hubert, 546, 576 Hunt, Galliard, 82 Hurricane Katrina, 630, 655, 668 Hussein, Saddam, 625 Huston, Walter, 586 Hutchings, Andrew Jackson, 116 immigrants, 242, 321, 330 imperialism, 325 indentured servants, 16 industrialism, 138 Inman, Henry, 133 Intermediate Nuclear Forces (INF) Treaty, 599 International Council of Women, 271 interracial marriage, 166 Iran, 597 Iraq War, 664 Irving, Washington, 186, 187 Ivins, Molly, 630 Jabour, Anya, 146 Jackson, Andrew, Jr., 116, 117, 126 Jackson, Andrew: 55, 102, 103, 111, 117, 118, 119, 130, 135, 138, 160, 161, 164, 165, 189, 197, 203, 600; election of 1824, 119, 120; election of 1828, 120, 121, 122; marriage, 115, 116, 123; Pensacola governorship, 118, 119; political scandals, 113, 124–25 Jackson, Henry “Scoop,” 576

728

index

Jackson, Lincoyer/Lynconya, 116, 117, 122 Jackson, Rachel Donelson Robards: 111, 126, 127, 130, 165; early life, 111, 112, 113; in Florida, 118, 119; heart disease, 120, 122, 123; illiteracy claims, 113, 119; marriage to Andrew Jackson, 115, 116, 117–18; marriage to Lewis Robards, 113, 114; religiosity, 118, 119 Jackson, Sarah (granddaughter), 126 Jackson, Sarah Yorke, 111, 118, 126, 127 Jacob, Kathryn Allamong, 82 Jacobson, Bluma, 488 Jacobson, Eddie, 477, 486, 488 Jacobson, Gloria, 488 Jaffray, Elizabeth, 397 James, Henry, 342 James, William, 361 Japan, 310, 484 Japanese Americans, 453 Jarrett, Valerie, 685, 686, 687, 699 Jay Treaty, 94 Jeansonne, Glen, 434, 435 Jeffers, H. Paul, 278 Jefferson, Jane, 40 Jefferson, Lucy, 40 Jefferson, Martha Wayles Skelton, 40 Jefferson, Thomas: 24–25, 29, 38, 39, 40, 59, 61, 62, 66, 67, 73, 76–77, 80, 84, 85, 93, 99, 105, 106, 111, 223; Confederation Congress, 40; debt, 51, 53, 54, 55; as minister to France, 41, 42; as president, 45, 46, 52; relationship to Martha Jefferson Randolph, 41, 42–43, 44, 46, 52, 53–55; relationship with Sally Hemings, 49, 52, 384; as secretary of state, 42, 43; as vice president, 42, 44 Jefferys, George, 85 Jellison, Katherine, 4 Jenkins, John Stilwell, 168 Jenkins, Walter, 530 Jennings, Mack, 395 Jennings, Paul (enslaved), 71 Jensen, Amy La Follette, on Helen Taft, 333 Jensen, Faye Lind, 571 Jensen, Joan M., 436 Jetton, Sarah “Sally,” 162, 171, 172 Jim Crow, 243, 291, 359 Jockey Club races, 46, 49 Johanssen, Robert, 72 Johnson, Adeline, 166 Johnson, Andrew: 230, 233, 234, 241; relationship with Eliza Johnson, 231, 233, 234; slaveholding, 232; as US senator, 232, 234

Johnson, Catherine Nuth, 92, 93, 94 Johnson, Cave, 167 Johnson, Charles, 232 Johnson, Eliza McCardle: 230, 231, 232; as First Lady, 231, 233; health issues, 230–31, 232, 234, 503; relationship with Andrew Johnson, 231, 233, 234 Johnson, Imogene, 166 Johnson, Joshua, 92, 93, 94, 95 Johnson, Lady Bird: 1, 355, 428, 503, 506, 508, 615; beautification and conservation advocacy, 517, 523, 527–29, 532, 546, 646, 662, 669; early life and education, 517, 518; feminism, 530, 532; as First Lady, 518, 532; Great Society programs, 517, 522, 524, 530; as LBJ surrogate, 503, 523–27; relationship with LBJ, 517, 518, 519, 520, 521, 522– 23; A White House Diary, 518, 520–21, 525, 527 Johnson, Luci, 520 Johnson, Lynda, 520 Johnson, Lyndon Baines: 508, 520, 521, 525, 544, 546, 589; Great Society programs, 517, 522, 524, 530; relationship with Bobby Kennedy, 510, 521; relationship with Lady Bird Johnson, 517, 518, 519, 520, 521, 522–23; Vietnam War, 522, 526, 530 Johnson, Martha Patterson, 231, 233, 234 Johnson, Mary, 232, 234 Johnson, Nancy, 92, 93, 97 Johnson, Reverdy, 180 Johnson, Richard M., 166 Johnson, Robert, 232, 233, 234 Johnson, Thomas, 92 Johnston, Harriet Rebecca Lane: 197, 198, 210–11; early life, 199, 200, 201; in Europe, 201, 202; family life, 207, 208; philanthropy, 208, 209; as Victorian womanhood representative, 198, 199, 203; as White House hostess, 197, 198, 199, 203, 204–206 Johnston, Henry Elliot, 207, 208 Johnston, Henry Elliot, Jr. (son), 207 Johnston, James Buchanan, 207 Johnston, Josiah Lee, 207 Jolson, Al, 384 Jones, James C., 167 Jones, Paula, 648 Jones, Rowland, 6 Jonson, George Washington, 184 Joseph, Frances, 290 Judge, Oney, 16 Jusserand, Jean Jules, 372



index

Kai-shek, Chiang (Madame), 453 Kaiser, Michael, 669 Kansas-Nebraska Act (1854), 190, 192, 221 Kanter, Rosabeth Moss, 626 Kantor, Jodi, 631 Karabell, Zachary, 263 Karzai, Hamid, 665 Karzai, Zenat, 665 Katz, Jonathan Ned, 268 Kaufman, Burton, 578 Kaufman, Scott, 578, 579 Keckley, Elizabeth, 223, 225, 226 Keely, Mary Paxton, 489 Keitt, Laurence M., 205 Keller, Helen, 411 Keller, Rosemary, 34 Kellerman, Barbara, 576 Kelley, Colleen, 649, 650 Kelley, Kitty, 512, 600 Kelly, Fitzroy, 201 Kemble, Fanny, 157 Kengor, Paul, 594, 595 Kennedy, Edward “Ted,” 510, 512, 576, 688, 697 Kennedy, Ethel, 511 Kennedy, Jacqueline Lee Bouvier “Jackie”: 85, 226, 294, 336, 386, 428; campaign roles, 505, 506, 508, 510, 592, 593; criticism of, 507; early life and education, 504; fashion, 506, 507, 513; as First Lady, 505, 511, 515, 531, 546; marriage to Aristotle Onassis, 504, 510, 511, 512; promotion of husband’s legacy, 377, 508–509, 511, 514; relationship with John Kennedy, 504, 505, 508, 513, 514 Kennedy, Joan, 512 Kennedy, John F., Jr., 505, 506, 511, 513 Kennedy, John F.: 358, 376, 377, 487, 591; assassination, 508, 512, 638, 657; Cuban Missile Crisis, 508, 514, 543; relationship with Jackie Kennedy, 504, 505, 515; as US senator, 505, 506 Kennedy, Joseph P., 505 Kennedy, May, 208 Kennedy, Patrick Bouvier, 508, 557 Kennedy, Robert “Bobby,” 509, 510, 512, 513, 638 Kennedy, Rose, 505, 512, 513 Kent, Deborah, 193 Keohane, Nannerl O., 627 Kerry, John, 665, 688 Kessler, Charles, 210 Kessler, Ronald, 669, 671

729

Khan, Ayub, 514 Khrushchev, Nikita, 506, 513 Kilian, Pamela, 607, 630 King, Martin Luther, Jr., 604, 637, 638 King, Stephen, 279 King, William Rufus DeVane, 190, 205 Kingsley, Elizabeth, 118 Kipling, Rudyard, 368 Kissinger, Henry, 616 Kitt, Eartha, 530 Klein, Edward, 513, 649 Klein, Philip S., 198, 201, 204, 210 Kling, Amos, 381 Kling, Cliff, 396 Kling, Louisa, 381 Knock, Thomas, 367 Knott, Stephen, 596 Koch, Dorothy Bush “Doro”, 606 Kohl, Helmut, 600 Koop, C. Everett, 599 Korean War, 485, 486, 498 Kortright, Hannah, 76 Kortright, Hester, 76 Kortright, Lawrence, 76 Kossuth, Lajos, 186 Kreisler, Fritz, 329 Kroft, Steve, 644, 689 La Fayette, Marie Adrienne Françoise de, 77, 79 labor unrest, 373 Lacock, Abner, 81 Lafayette, Marquis de, 17, 41 Lambert, Darwin, 430 Lamon, Ward Hill, 225 Landau, Barry, 307 Lane, Elliot Eskridge, 198, 199 Lane, Elliot Tole, 199 Lane, Harriet Buchanan, 177, 215, 223, 278, 205 Lane, James Buchanan, 199 Lane, Jane Buchanan, 199 Lane, Sally, 64 Lane, Samuel, 84 Lansford, Tom, 317 Lansing, Robert, 361, 368, 371, 372 Lash, Joseph, 448, 451, 453, 454 Latrobe, Benjamin Henry, 67, 68 Laughlin, Sam, 159 Lawler, Kathleen, 390, 394, 395 Lawrence, Amos, 190, 193 Lawrence, Jacob, 669 Lawrence, Nancy Means, 191

730

index

League of Nations, 358, 368, 369, 370, 372, 376, 384, 386 League of Women Voters, 388 Leahy, Christopher, 146, 148 Leamer, Laurence, 590, 593, 596 Leaming, Barbara, 513, 514 Ledwith, Mary “Mame,” 301 Lee, Arthur Hamilton, 310, 316, 317 Lee, Mary Anna Custis, 191 Lee, Mary, 386 Lee, Robert E., 374 Lee, Ruth, 312 Leech, Margaret, 261, 293 Lees, Carlton B., 529 Leffler, John J., 286, 294 Legacies of America’s First Ladies Initiative, 3, 653, 669 Legal Services Corporation, 641 Leighton, Frances, 585, 586, 591, 596, 598 Leon, Thomas Cooper de, 197 Leonard, Thomas M., 166 Lerner, Alan J., 509 Lettow, Paul, 599 levees, 1, 44, 45, 56, 81, 152, 187, 223, 226, 233 Levin, Phyllis Lee, 33, 358, 359, 361, 364 Lewinsky, Monica, 648, 650 Lewis, Mary Ann, 126 Library of Congress, 85 Lincoln, Abraham: 214, 218–19, 205, 206, 221, 227, 232, 286, 299, 315, 394; assassination, 215, 224, 233; in Illinois legislature, 217, 219 Lincoln, Edward “Eddie,” 221, 224 Lincoln, Mary Todd: 19, 145, 177, 206, 219, 240, 294, 385, 412, 503; as controversial figure, 214, 215, 224–25, 227, 593; early life, 216, 217; as First Lady, 215, 221–23, 330; health issues, 225, 226, 227; marriage, 217, 218, 219–21, 224, 226; philanthropy, 223, 226; as southern belle, 215, 216, 218, 219, 224, 226; travel, 217, 225, 226 Lincoln, Robert Todd, 220, 224, 225, 226 Lincoln, Thomas “Tad,” 216, 219, 224, 225 Lincoln, William Wallace “Willie,” 223, 224 Lind, Jenny, 187 Lind, John, 347 Lindsey, Estelle Lawton, 393 Link, Arthur S., 340, 344, 363, 373 Lisio, Donald, 430 Little, John E., 340 Lodge, Henry Cabot, 301, 316, 329, 336, 369, 372, 373, 374

Loizeau, Pierre-Marie, 2, 585, 589, 590, 591, 595, 597 Longstreet, Louise, 240 Longworth, Alice Roosevelt, 300, 301, 303, 309–10, 316, 317, 383, 396, 397, 427, 450 Longworth, Nicholas, 383 Lorant, Stefan, 315 Lord, Elizabeth Scott, 273 Louis Philippe (King of France), 134 Louise (Queen of Prussia), 95 Louisiana Purchase, 77 Louisiana Territory, 53 Lovell, James, 33 Low, Juliette, 436 Lowe, Meredith, 295 Lowell, Robert, 664 Lowndes, William, 78 Luce, Clare Booth, 480 Luckett, Virginia, 585 Ludtke, Melissa, 627 Lunardini, Christine, 367 Lusitania, 363 Luzzatti, Luigi, 280 Lynch, William A., 286 Macalester, Charles, 211 Macalester, Lily, 203, 205, 211 Macbeth, William, 352 Macmillan, Harold, 514 Maddox, Robert J., 371 Madison, Dolley Payne Todd: 17, 19, 37, 38, 51, 55, 59, 83, 92, 97, 99, 112, 131, 132, 177, 180, 214, 678; as First Lady, 13, 60, 62, 66, 68, 79, 80, 81, 82, 84, 198, 247, 663; as First Lady role model, 133, 142, 147, 197, 203, 211, 214, 531, 663; political impact, 62, 69, 70, 71; Quakerism, 63, 64, 65, 66; patriotism, 71, 72; relationship with husband, 39, 63, 64, 75; social acumen, 47, 59, 60–61, 65, 66, 68–70, 72, 79–80, 82–84, 85, 101, 152, 503; War of 1812, 70, 71, 72; White House renovation, 67, 68, 69, 71 Madison, James, Sr., 65 Madison, James: 13, 17, 44, 52, 53, 59, 60, 62, 64, 66, 69 76, 77, 80, 92, 97, 98, 99, 131; intellect, 60, 61; national unity, 61, 62; as president, 66, 67; War of 1812, 70, 71 Madison, Nelly Conway, 66 Mahon, George, 657 Mailer, Norman, 507 Mairs, John, 171 Maistre, Joseph de, 97

Mallon, Neil, 613 Malone, Dudley Field, 367 Manchester, William, 510 Mann, James, 592, 598, 599 manumission, 16, 64 Marling, Karal Ann, 494, 500 Marshall Plan, 484 Marshall, Charles De Angelis, 188 Marshall, George, C., 485 Marshall, Lois, 408 Marshall, Thomas R., 370, 408 Marszalek, John, 125 Martin, Mary, 586 Marton, Kati, 340, 522, 535, 545, 607, 626 Maslow, Abraham, 454 Mason, Alpheus, 335 material culture, 46 Matlock, Jack, 598 Mayer, Dale C., 432 Mayer, Jane, 598 Mayo, Edith P., 45, 494 Mazo, Earl, 542 McAdoo, Eleanor Wilson “Nell,” 343 McAdoo, William G., 346, 361, 374, McArthur, Douglas, 485 McBride, Anita, 4 McCaffree, Mary Jane, 496 McCain, Cindy, 690 McCain, John, 688, 691 McCarthy, Eugene, 510 McCarthy, Joseph, 473, 485 McCarthyism, 498 McCartney, Laton, 398 McCullough, David, 479, 483, 490 McDermott, Stacy Pratt, 218, 227 McDougal, James, 647 McDowell, Ephraim, 163 McDuffie, Mary, 137, 138, 139 McElroy, John E., 262 McElroy, Mary Arthur “Molly”: 262, 263 McElroy, Robert, 278 McFerrin, John, 164, 171 McGovern, George, 489, 640 McKee, Benjamin Harrison “Baby,” 265, 273, 274, 276, 277 McKee, James, 273 McKee, Mary “Mamie,” 273, 265, 275, 276, 278, 280 McKee, Mary (daughter), 273 McKell, Phebe, 253 McKim, Charles F., 305, 306 McKinley, Ida (daughter), 287

index

731

McKinley, Ida: 3, 296; abolitionism, 284, 290; early life, 283, 284, 285, 286; in Europe, 285, 286; fashion, 289, 290; as First Lady, 289, 290, 291; health issues, 286–87, 288–89, 291, 292, 294–95; relationship with William McKinley, 283, 285, 286, 295, 390; women’s rights, 284, 288, 291 McKinley, Katharine “Katie,” 286, 287, 291 McKinley, William: 293, 302, 384, 325; assassination, 292, 304; as governor of Ohio, 288, 289; relationship with Ida McKinley, 283, 285, 286, 295, 390; in US House of Representatives, 287, 288 McLane, Louis, 104 McLean, Edward Beale, 383 McLean, Evalyn Walsh, 383, 385, 394, 397, 398 McManus, Doyle, 598 McPherson, Harry, 522 Mead, Margaret, 530 Means, Abigail Atherton Kent, 190, 191 Means, Anne M., 191 Means, Gaston B., 396, 397, 398 Means, Marianne, 3, 333 Melli Melli, Sidi Suleiman, 53 Melville, J. Keith, 430 Mental Health Systems Act, 575, 576 Mercer, Lucy, 444, 449, 453, 461, 463 Merry Affair. see Merry, Anthony; Merry, Elizabeth Merry, Anthony, 51, 66 Merry, Elizabeth, 50, 51, 55, 66 Merry, Robert, 162 Mexican-American War, 177, 179, 183, 187, 238 Mexico, 346, 347, 364, 372 Michelmore, David L., 91 Mifflin, Nancy, 64 Miles, William P., 205 Millard, Candice, 261 Miller, Earl, 446, 447, 448, 464 Miller, Glenn, 610 Miller, Kristie: 371, 373; on Edith Wilson, 351, 352, 358, 361, 362, 371, 372, 373, 377; on Ellen Wilson, 341, 343, 345, 348, 350, 351, 354, 358, 377; on Grace Coolidge, 419, 420, 421 Miller, Marla R., 129 Miller, Susan A., 419, 421, 436 Millett, Wesley, 156, 157 Mills, Elijah, 80 Minnigerode, Meade, 112, 118, 122

732

index

Mississippi Freedom Democratic Party, 638 Missouri Compromise (1820), 221 Mitchell, Silas Weir, 287 Mitchell, Stewart, 28 Mitchill, Catherine Akerly, 65 Mitchill, Samuel Latham, 65 Mockler, Ethel, 436 Mondale, Joan, 572 Mondale, Walter, 571, 597, 617 Monroe, Elizabeth Kortright: 75, 76, 77, 84, 99, 100, 101, 112, 144; in Europe, 77, 78, 80; as first lady, 79–80, 81, 82–83; health problems, 79, 80, 83; social acumen, 77, 78–79, 85 Monroe, Hester, 84 Monroe, James Spence, 78 Monroe, James, 59, 72, 73, 75, 76, 78, 79, 84, 85, 99 Monroe, Maria Hester, 78 Monroe, Winnie, 253 Montgomery, Benjamin F., 290 Montgomery, Henry, 182 Montgomery, Ruth, 519 Monticello, 42, 43, 48, 49, 55, 54 Moon, Ban-Ki, 667 Moore, John Bassett, 209, 210, 211 Morel, Josephine, 275 Morgan, Sarah, 157 Morison, Elting E., 335 Morris, Gouverneur, 77 Morris, Nancy, 54 Morris, Phoebe, 69 Morris, Sylva Jukes, 2, 310, 313, 314, 315, 317 Morrisey, Will, 329 Motier, Marie-Joseph Paul Yves Roch Gilbert du. see Lafayette, Marquis de Mount Vernon, 10, 12, 16, 17, 18 Mount Wollaston, 21 Mubarak, Hosni, 667 Mueller, James, 649 Muir, Janette, 4 Mulvaney, Jay, 513 Muncy, Robin, 436 Muskie, Edmund, 579 Muslim Brotherhood, 667 Nagel, Paul C., 90, 104, 108 Napoleonic Wars, 97 Nash, George H., 431, 433, 434 National Assembly (France), 41 National Association for the Advancement of Colored People (NAACP), 451

National Civic Federation (NCF), 348, 349, 355 National Endowment for the Arts (NEA), 669 National First Ladies Library, 3, 18 National League of Families of American Prisoners of War and Missing in Action, 591 National Literacy Act (1991), 625 National Park Foundation, 669 National Security League, 279 National Women’s Party, 366, 367, 388, 455 National Women’s Suffrage Association, 366 National Youth Administration (NYA), 450 nationalism, 72, 99 Native Americans: 48, 112, 114, 115, 117, 118, 242, 359; see also Cherokees; Chickamaugas; Chickasaws; Chippewas; Osages; Pocahontas Neal, Steve, 494 Nelson, Anson, 160, 167, 173 Nelson, Fanny, 160, 167, 173 Nesbitt, Anita Blanchard, 701 Nesbitt, Henrietta, 464 Nesbitt, Martin, 687 Nessen, Ron, 561 Neuville, Hyde de, 84 Nevins, Allan, 210, 278 New England Emigrant Aid Company, 190 New York City (as capital), 13 New York Female Moral Reform Society, 138 Nicaragua, 597 Nichols, Roy Franklin, 190, 192, 210 Nineteenth Amendment, 367, 373 Niven, John, 129 Nixon, Richard M.: 485, 490, 505, 589, 591, 615, 616, 621; election of 1960, 542, 543, 545, 546; election of 1968, 545; impeachment, 640; memoirs, 543; relationship with Pat Nixon, 536, 537, 538, 544; in US Congress, 538, 539; as US vice president, 535, 540, 541; Vietnam War, 546; see also Watergate scandal Nixon, Thelma Catherine Ryan “Pat”: 1, 428, 497, 606, 659, 665; campaign roles, 535, 537, 540, 541, 542, 543, 545; diplomatic skills, 541, 542, 547; early life and education, 536, 537; as First Lady, 546, 547, 548, 549; health issues, 549, 550; Office of Price Administration (OPA), 537; post-White House life, 549, 550; relationship with Mamie Eisenhower, 541; relationship with Richard Nixon, 536, 537, 538, 544; volunteerism advocacy, 546, 547; women’s movement, 548, 549



index

No Child Left Behind, 654 Nofziger, Lyn, 591, 592 Noonan, Peggy, 625 Noriega, Manuel, 625 North, Oliver, 598, 600 nullification, 44 O’Brien, Michael, 90 O’Connell, Daniel, 134 O’Day, Caroline, 445 O’Neale, William, 165 O’Neill, William L., 436, 498 Oates, Joyce Carol, 279 Obama, Barack: 515, 631, 635, 681, 682, 692, 703, 707; The Audacity of Hope, 679, 688; campaign of 2008, 688, 689, 690, 691; importance of being African American, 679, 688, 690, 691; as president, 688, 704; relationship with Michelle Obama, 684, 685, 686; as US Senator, 650, 688 Obama, Malia Ann, 585, 687, 688, 697 Obama, Michelle LaVaughn Robinson: 1, 333, 336, 377, 380, 492, 497, 591, 672, 677, 687; campaign roles, 680, 681, 688–89, 691, 692, 704; criticism of, 690, 691, 701, 702; early life and education, 680, 681, 682–83, 684; education advocacy, 707, 708, 709, 711; fashion, 702, 703; as First Lady, 631, 672, 678–79, 696, 697, 699, 700, 701, 709–10; importance of being African American, 679, 689, 697, 710; Joining Forces program, 591, 706, 707, 709, 711; Let’s Move program, 194, 704, 705, 709, 711; relationship with Barack Obama, 684, 685, 686 Obama, Sasha, 585, 687, 688, 697, 701 Octagon House, 72 Ogle, Charles, 135, 136 Olcott, Charles S., 293 Onassis, Aristotle, 504, 510 Onassis, Christina, 511 Ord, O. O., 240 Orlando, Tony, 592 Ormsby-Gore, David, 514 Osages, 53 Oswald, Lee Harvey, 508 Overton, John, 114, 115 Owens, F. D., 280 pacifism, 460 Paderewski, Jan, 365 Paine, Thomas, 77 Paker, Alton B., 310

733

Palin, Sarah, 622 Palmer, A. Mitchell, 373 Pan-American Exposition, 292 Panama Canal, 575, 576 Panic of 1837, 130, 136, 165, 166 Paris Peace Conference, 363, 368, 369 Park, Edwards A., 207, 211 Parker, Kathleen, 667, 670 Parks, Lillian Rogers, 425, 426–27 Parsons, Frances “Fanny,” 317 partisanship: 77, 181, 388, 629, 649; Jefferson administration, 44, 45, 46, 48, 49, 51; John Adams administration, 24, 28; Madison administration, 59, 66–67, 69, 72, 73; Tyler administration, 145, 147 Parton, James, 112, 114, 117, 123 paternalism, 117, 200, 548 Paterson, Thomas G., 488 patriarchy, 65 patriotism, 34, 71, 72 Patterson, Bradley, 666, 671 Paul, Alice, 366, 367 Paulding, James Kirke, 137 Pauley, Jane, 623 Paxton, Mary, 477 Payne, Anna, 64, 65 Payne, John, 63, 64 Payne, Mary Coles, 63 Payne, Robert, 149, 150, 151 Peabody, Elizabeth Smith Shaw, 21, 25, 27, 28, 29 Peck, Harry Thurston, 267, 268 Peck, Mary Allen Hulbert, 347, 361, 362 Pegler, Westbrook, 449, 450 Pemberton, William E., 589, 597, 598, 599 Pendel, Thomas F., 266, 273, 276 Pendergast, Tom, 477, 479, 480 Perkins, Frances, 449, 481 Perlstein, Rick, 587 Perot, H. Ross, 629, 641 Perry, Barbara A., 514 Pershing, John J., 388 Persian Gulf War, 625, 629 Peskin, Allan, 261 Peterson, Barbara Bennett, 169, 173, 174 Petticoat Affair, 62, 111, 119, 120, 121, 123, 124–26, 130 Phifer, Gregg, 371 Philip (Prince of Great Britain), 496 Philippines, 290 Phillips, Carrie, 382, 383, 384 Phillips, Leon, 125

734

index

Physick, Philip Syng, 4, 163 Pickford, Mary, 384 Pierce, Benjamin “Bennie,” 189, 190, 192, 193 Pierce, Frank Robert, 189 Pierce, Franklin, Jr., 189 Pierce, Franklin: 176, 177, 178, 187, 188, 189, 191, 608; alcohol dependency, 189, 190; presidency, 189, 190 Pierce, Jane: 145, 176, 177, 178, 181, 188, 189, 194, 208, 503; antislavery stance, 190, 191; as First Lady, 190, 191, 192, 193; health issues, 189, 191, 193 Pierce, Jim, 609 Pierce, Martha, 609 Pierce, Marvin, 608, 609 Pierce, Pauline Robinson, 608, 609, 613 Pierce, Scott, 609 Pitzer, Donald E., 397 Pius IX (Pope), 285 Planned Parenthood, 610 Plitt, Sophie W., 204, 205, 206 Plumard, Justin Pierre (Comte De Rieux), 77 Pocahontas, 359 Poincaré, Raymond, 368 Polenberg, Richard, 498 Polk, James K.: 138, 143, 159, 160, 161, 162, 168, 174, 179, 189, 203, 231; friendship with Andrew Jackson, 161, 164, 165, 167; health problems, 163, 164, 170–71; as Tennessee governor, 166, 167; US House of Representatives, 162, 165; as US president, 167, 168 Polk, Jane, 161, 193 Polk, Marshall Tate, Jr., 162, 174 Polk, Sam, 162, 163 Polk, Sarah Childress: 159, 167–68, 171–72, 173, 177, 193, 203, 231; early life, 160, 161; as First Lady, 159–60, 168, 169–70, 254; as political adviser to husband, 159–60, 163, 166, 169, 173; religiosity, 162, 164, 169, 172; social acumen, 163, 166, 168–69 Porter, David, 241 Porter, Horace, 236 Pottker, Jan, 513 Powell, Adam Clayton, 482 Powers, Abigail Newland, 182 Powers, Cyrus, 183 Powers, Lemuel, 182 Powers, Mary, 186 Preserve America, 669 Preston, Daniel, 75 Preston, Thomas Jex, Jr., 272

Preston, William Campbell, 132 Prindiville, Kathleen, 143, 333 Pringle, Henry F., 335 Progressive Party, 484 Progressives, 324, 327 Prohibition, 263, 391 protocol: 44, 153, 198, 304, 482, 496, 655; Jefferson, 44, 45–46, 51–52, 80; Madison presidency, 80, 81; Monroe presidency, 75, 81, 82; Obama presidency, 701, 702; Washington presidency, 14, 16, 81 Prussian-American Treaty of Amity and Commerce, 95 Pryor, Helen B., 431, 432 Pryor, Sara Agnes Rice, 203 Public Allies, 686 Puerto Rico, 290 Pugh, Evelyn, 155 Pulszky, Theresa, 186 Quakerism, 63 Quayle, Dan, 621, 629, 630 Quigley, Joan, 594 Quincy, John, 21 Quincy, Josiah, III, 106 Quist, John, 210 race riots, 370, 373 racism: Benjamin Harrison administration, 274; G. W. Bush administration, 668; Harding administration, 396, 397; Obama administration, 683, 689; Theodore Roosevelt administration, 302, 307, 308, 316, 317; Wilson administration, 358, 377; see also African Americans; Jim Crow; race riots Radcliffe, Donnie, 607, 609, 617, 626, 637, 651 Radical Republicans, 233, 250, 258 Radosh, Allis, 398 Radosh, Ron, 398 Radziwill, Lee Bouvier Canfield, 504, 508 Radziwill, Stanislas, 507 Randall, Ruth Painter, 220 Randall, W. S., 10 Randolph, Ann, 38 Randolph, Anne, 49 Randolph, Cornelia, 47 Randolph, Ellen, 55 Randolph, James Madison, 52 Randolph, Jeff, 28, 49, 55 Randolph, John, 53, 67, 79



index

Randolph, Martha Jefferson “Patsy”: 38, 39, 40, 52, 66; correspondence, 41, 47, 49, 52, 53, 55; early life, 40, 41, 43; in Paris, 41, 42, 49; plantation life, 43, 44; relationship with her father, 41, 42–43, 44–45, 46, 52, 53–55, 56; social status, 41, 43, 47, 49; in Washington, 49, 50, 51, 52, 53 Randolph, Mary, 425, 426 Randolph, Thomas Mann, Jr., 38, 42, 47, 48, 49, 52, 53, 54 Rayback, Robert J., 184, 188 Reagan, Maureen, 588 Reagan, Michael, 588 Reagan, Nancy Robbins Davis: 1, 2, 145, 261, 428, 489, 503, 601, 617, 625, 666; acting career, 586, 587; anti-drug advocacy, 590, 596–97, 600; breast cancer, 558, 594; campaign roles, 591, 592–93; conservatism, 588, 589; criticism of, 2, 503, 585, 588, 589, 590, 593, 595; early life and education, 585, 586, 587; foster children advocacy, 2, 590; legacy building, 261, 377, 380; relationship with Ronald Reagan, 585, 587–88, 593, 594–97; veterans’ advocacy, 590, 591 Reagan, Patti, 588 Reagan, Ron, 588, 589 Reagan, Ronald Wilson: 489, 576, 617, 621, 643, 653; acting career, 587, 588; Alzheimer’s battle, 588, 600, 601; assassination attempt, 593, 594; Bitburg cemetery visit, 599, 600; as California governor, 589, 590, 591; campaign of 1968, 591; campaign of 1976, 563, 591, 592; campaign of 1980, 489, 582, 592–93; campaign of 1984, 597; conservatism, 58, 589; HIV/AIDS policy, 599, 600, 601; Iran-Contra scandal, 595, 597–98, 600, 601; relationship with Nancy Reagan, 585, 587–88, 593, 594–97; Soviet Union relations, 596, 597, 598, 599, 601; as US president, 576, 593 Reconstruction, 234, 235, 252, 254, 258 Reed, Thomas C., 588 Reed, William B., 207 Reeves, Richard, 587, 595, 596 Regan, Allen, 335 Regan, Donald, 594, 596, 598, 601 regionalism/sectionalism, 67 Rehnquist, William H., 255 Reid, Whitelaw, 310 Remini, Robert V., 114, 118, 121, 126

735

Rendon, Paula, 615 Renehan, Edward, 309 republican motherhood, 32, 38, 308 Republican National Committee (RNC), 606, 615 Republican Party: 66, 67, 99, 100, 139, 221, 250, 269, 308, 311, 323, 388, 486, 555, 564, 579, 615; and African Americans, 233, 249, 450; Congressional seats, 313, 369, 373, 484, 498; fundraising, 411, 538; intra-party divisions, 68, 312, 327, 331, 591, 592, 630 republicanism, 48, 91, 98–99 Reverby, Susan M., 608 Reynolds, Eleanor, 211 Ricard, Serge, 309 Rice, Condoleeza, 650 Rich, Adrienne, 664 Richards, Laura E., 31 Richards, Leonard L., 129 Rixey, Presley, 291 Rizzo, Frank, 669 Robards Affair, 121 Robards, Lewis, 113, 114, 115, 120 Robb, Charles, 601 Robb, Linda Johnson, 1 Robbins, Edith Luckett, 585, 586, 587 Robbins, Kenneth, 585 Robenalt, James, 398 Roberts, Cokie, 91, 661, 672 Roberts, John B., II, 169, 241, 608, 622, 631 Roberts, Jonathan, 68, 70 Roberts, Steve, 661 Robertson, Felix, 123 Robertson, Nan, 524, 526 Robertson, Pat, 621 Robinson, Charles, 190, 191 Robinson, Corinne Roosevelt, 299, 316, 317 Robinson, Eugene, 667 Robinson, Mary (enslaved), 239 Robinson, Nicholas, 317 Robinson, Sarah Tappan Doolittle Lawrence, 191 Rodgers, John W., 687 Rodham, Dorothy, 636, 637 Rodham, Hugh, 636, 637 Rodham, Hugh, Jr., 636 Rodham, Tony, 636 Rodriguez, Noelia, 664 Roe v. Wade (1973), 624, 660 Rolphe, John, 359 Roosevelt, Alice Hathaway Lee, 300, 309

736

index

Roosevelt, Anna Eleanor: 89, 226, 247, 349, 353, 427, 429, 431, 490, 503, 515, 524, 531, 596, 615, 631, 635–36, 645, 659; criticism of, 448, 449, 450; as First Lady, 300, 447–53, 454, 494, 501; friendship with Edith Wilson, 368, 375–76, 377; human rights advocacy, 389, 441, 429, 452, 604; Hunting Big Game in the Eighties: The Letters of Elliott Roosevelt, 447; influence on future first ladies, 336, 439, 577; It’s Up to the Women, 447; journalism, 447, 448, 449, 450, 451, 494–95; The Moral Basis of Democracy, 451; Office of Civil Defense (OCD), 452, 453; racial equality activism, 449, 450, 451, 453, 454, 455; relationship with Lorena Hickok, 447, 448, 450, 451, 455; relationship with husband, 448, 449, 454, 455; role models, 351; This Is My Story, 449, 454; as transitional figure, 214, 320, 333, 340, 351, 354–55, 379, 428, 431, 455 Roosevelt, Archibald “Archie,” 301, 313, 315, 316 Roosevelt, Belle Willard, 313 Roosevelt, Cornelia, 205 Roosevelt, Cornelius Van Schaak, 299 Roosevelt, Edith Kermit Carow: 301, 311, 631; early life, 299; as First Lady, 298, 304, 305–310; health issues, 302, 315; post-White House years, 311, 313, 314, 316; racism, 302, 307, 308, 316, 317; relationship with Alice Roosevelt, 300, 301, 303, 309–10; relationship with Theodore Roosevelt, 299, 300–301, 302, 310, 312, 317; Victorianism, 298, 301, 311, 317 Roosevelt, Elliot, 299, 447 Roosevelt, Franklin D.: 16, 314, 320, 368, 375–76, 425, 451, 480, 481; New Deal policies, 449, 450, 451, 452, 454; relationship with Eleanor Roosevelt, 448, 449, 453, 454, 455; relationship with Lucy Mercer, 449, 453; relationship with Missy LeHand, 452, 456 Roosevelt, Hall, 452 Roosevelt, Kermit, 301, 308, 311, 313, 314, 315, 316 Roosevelt, Quentin, 302, 311, 315 Roosevelt, Sara, 452, 455 Roosevelt, Theodore, Jr., “Ted,” 301, 304, 313, 315, 316, 317, 388 Roosevelt, Theodore: 222, 298, 291, 299, 316, 325, 334, 336, 364, 455; Bull Moose Party, 331, 332; health issues, 312;

relationship with Edith Roosevelt, 299, 300–301, 302, 310, 312, 317; as US president, 298, 304, 305–310, 311; as US vice president, 304 Root, Elihu, 326 Rose, Susan Porter, 632 Rosebush, James S., 589 Roseman, Dorothy, 488 Roseman, Samuel, 486, 488 Rosenberg, Rosalind, 436 Ross, Ishbel: 235, 333, 362, 414; on Edith Wilson, 362, 363; on Grace Coolidge, 414–15, 417, 418, 420, 421; on Julia Grant, 235, 236 Rothman, Hal K., 521 Rough Riders, 302, 303, 312, 314 Rowley, Hazel, 442 Rudolph, Arabella, 255 Rudolph, Eliza, 258 Rudolph, James, 255 Rudolph, John, 255 Rudolph, Joseph, 257 Rudolph, Nellie, 255 Rudolph, Zeb, 255 Ruffin, Edmund, 154 Rush, Bobby, 687 Ruskin, John, 341 Russell, Francis, 397 Russell, J. E., 391 Russell, Jan Jarboe, 520 Russell, Joseph, 84 Russell, Lillian, 384 Russia, 310 Russo-Japanese War, 310 Rutledge, Ann, 224, 225 Ryan, Francis de S., 185 Ryan, Mary C., 2, 333 Sadat, Anwar, 572 Sadler, Paul, 659 Sale, Sara, 490 Salenius, Sirpa, 280 Salinger, Pierre, 506 Sallee, Shelley, 351 Sam (enslaved), 232 Samaroof, Olga, 329 Sanders, Everett, 412 Sanfilippo, Pamela K., 239 Saunders, Frances Wright: on Ellen Wilson, 340, 341, 348 Save America’s Treasures initiative, 669 Sawyer, Carl, 391, 392, 395



index

Sawyer, Charles, 382 Sawyer, Mandy, 395, 396 Sawyer, Susan, 119 Saxton, Catharine Dewalt “Kate,” 283, 284, 286, 293 Saxton, George, 284, 290 Saxton, James, 283, 284, 286, 293 Saxton, John, 283 Saxton, Margaret Laird, 284 Saxton, Mary “Pina,” 284, 285 Scale, William, 84 Scarry, Robert J., 187, 188 Scharf, Lois, 436 Schieffer, Bob, 595 Schlesinger, Arthur, Jr., 168, 512, 514 Schloesser, Pauline, 36 Schlossberg, Caroline Kennedy, 505, 506, 511, 514, 515 Schroeder, Pat, 651 Scobey, Evaland, 386 Scott, John Witherspoon, 273, 275 Scott, Walter, 186 Scott, Winfield, 138, 187, 190 Seager, Robert, II, 146, 147, 148–49, 150, 151, 152, 153, 154, 155–56, 157 Seagraves, Eleanor, 1 Seale, William, 305 Sears, John, 591, 592 Seaton, Josephine, 79, 81, 82, 84 Seaton, Sarah Gales, 47, 65 secession, 53, 181, 184, 214, 232, 236 Second Bank of the United States, 165 Second Continental Congress (1775), 11 Second Great Awakening, 118 Second Seminole War, 179 segregation, 350 Seigenthaler, John, 163, 164, 168 Selleck, Rebecca, 256 Semple, James, 156, 157 Semple, Letitia Tyler, 148, 151, 153, 156 Seneca Falls Convention, 170, 176 September 11, 2001, 654, 655, 657, 662–63, 650 Sevier, John, 120 Seward, William H., 181, 222, 317 Shakespeare, William, 186, 341 Shaw, Elizabeth, 23, 97 Shaw, John, 23, 256, 261 Shepherd, Jack, 90, 104, 105, 107–108 Sheridan, Philip H., 263 Sherman, John, 258 Sherman, William T., 171, 236

737

Sherr, Lynn, 236 Shirley, Craig, 591, 596 Shlaes, Amity, 416 Shriver, Eunice Kennedy, 505 Shriver, Sargent, 525 Shulman, Holly, 63 Shulman, Irving, 509, 513, 515 Shultz, George, 595, 598, 599 Sibley, Katherine A. S., 3, 383, 398 Sickles, Dan, 201 Sickles, Teresa Bagioli, 201 Sienna Research Institute (SRI), 144, 145, 157, 215, 531, 623 Simon, John Y., 235, 241 Simon, Paul, 625 Simpson, Evangeline Mars, 267 Simpson, Michael, 236, 267 Sinatra, Frank, 600 Sinclair, Harry, 395 Singleton, Angelica, 73 Singleton, Esther, 307 Singleton, Rebecca Travis Coles, 131 Singleton, Richard, 131 Sioussat, John, 71 Sirhan, Sirhan, 510 Sitton, Claudia, 526 Skelton, Ike, 489 Slagell, Amy R., 367, 368, 375 Slaughter, Anne-Marie, 632 slavery: 22, 38, 48, 49, 63–64, 68, 71, 114, 131, 134, 166, 177, 183, 206, 216, 236, 237, 239, 240; Jackson administration, 117, 118; expansion into territories, 181, 184, 186, 190; Jackson administration, 117, 118; Lincoln administration, 219, 221; Polk administration, 162, 171, 172; Washington administration, 10, 16, 17 Smeal, Eleanor, 663 Smelser, Marshall, 46 Smith, Abigail Adams “Nabby” (daughter), 21, 23, 24, 25 Smith, Ann Mackall, 178 Smith, Craig R., 622, 625 Smith, Elbert, 180, 188 Smith, Gene, 371 Smith, Jean Kennedy, 505 Smith, Jerry, 271 Smith, John Spear, 98 Smith, Kathy B., 576 Smith, Kirby, 232 Smith, Margaret Bayard, 47, 48, 50, 53, 54, 56, 72, 78, 82

738

index

Smith, Marie, 519 Smith, Mary Louise, 616 Smith, Mary, 21, 23 Smith, Nancy Kegan, 2, 320, 333 Smith, Richard Norton, 153, 435 Smith, Sally Bedell, 513 Smith, Samuel Harrison, 50, 53 Smith, Walter, 178 Smith, William, 20, 24, 25 socialism, 471 Souvestre, Marie, 455 Soviet Union, 468–69, 470–71, 473, 483–84, 485, 488, 547, 564, 572, 585, 596, 597–99, 601, 629 Spanish-American War, 290, 302, 303 Sparkes, Boyden, 397 Spencer, Stuart, 592, 594 Spring-Rice, Cecil “Springy,” 300, 312, 317 Sproul, William, 389 SS Persia, 364 St. John’s Episcopal Church (Washington, DC), 180 Staël, Germaine de, 41 Stalin, Josef, 453 Stanton, Elizabeth Cady, 316 Stark, Robert, 115 Starling, Edmund, 363, 394, 397 Starr, Kenneth, 647, 648, 649 States’ Rights Democratic Party. see Dixiecrats states’ rights, 139, 366, 484 steamboat, 83 Steinberg, Albert, 454 Steinem, Gloria, 580, 663 Stephanopoulos, George, 658 Stern, Milton, 210 Steuben, Baron von, 18 Stevenson, Adlai, 485 Stevenson, Andrew, 131, 132, 134 Stevenson, Sally, 134 Stewart, James Todd, 217 Stewart, Jimmy, 587 Stimson, Henry, 311 Stokes, Ashli Quesinberry, 665 Stokes, Nellie Treanor, 122 Stone, Irving, 37 Stowe, Harriet Beecher, 155 Strategic Arms Limitation Talks (SALT), 576 Stuart, Gilbert, 71, 85 Sukey (enslaved), 71 Sullivan, Louis, 624, 626 Sullivan, Mark, 396 Sumner, Charles, 168, 223

Susskind, David, 488 Suu Kyi, Augn San, 667, 671 Swaim, David, 260 Swain, Martha H., 431 Swem, Charles, 371 Swift, Will, 535, 537 Sylvester, Margaret, 130 Symington, Stewart, 487 Taft, Charles, 324, 328 Taft, Helen (daughter), 324, 328, 331, 336 Taft, Helen Herron “Nellie”: 2, 226, 307, 350, 386, 390, 631; as adviser to husband, 327, 328, 330, 336, 417, 420; early life, 321, 322, 323, 334; as First Lady, 328, 329, 335; health issues, 331, 336; in the Philippines, 325, 326, 334; Recollections of Full Years, 323, 327, 332, 334; relationship with husband, 323, 324; relationship with Theodore and Edith Roosevelt, 326, 328, 329, 330, 335 Taft, Robert, 324, 328 Taft, William Howard: 289, 307, 311, 312, 316, 326, 383, 394; election of 1908, 327, 328; judicial career, 320, 324, 325, 332; Literary Club of Cincinnati, 321; in the Philippines, 325, 326, 334; relationship with Theodore Roosevelt, 325, 326, 328; relationship with wife, 323, 324 Tanzania, 672 Taraborrelli, J. Randy, 513 Task Force on National Health Care Reform. see Clinton, Hillary Rodham: health care reform efforts Tayloe, John, 72 Taylor, Ann Mackall, 179, 193 Taylor, C. James, 29 Taylor, Elizabeth, 509 Taylor, Margaret Mackall Smith: 144, 176, 177, 178–79, 180, 182, 189, 193, 194; as First Lady, 180, 181; poor health, 179, 180 Taylor, Margaret Smith (daughter), 179 Taylor, Michael J. C., 192 Taylor, Octavia Pannel, 179 Taylor, Richard, 179 Taylor, Zachary: 176, 177, 178, 187; MexicanAmerican War, 179; presidency, 179–80, 181, 184; vice presidency, 183, 184 Teacher Corps, 525 Teapot Dome Scandal, 373 Teasley, Martin M., 494 Tempelsman, Maurice, 511 Tennessee Valley Authority (TVA), 588



index

Tennyson, Alfred, 201 Terrell, Mary Church, 385 terrorism, 650, 654, 655, 662–63 textile manufacturing, 50, 332 Thacker-Estrada, Elizabeth, 4, 160, 164, 169, 185, 186, 193–94 Thackeray, William Makepeace, 187 Thatcher, Margaret, 595, 598 Thayer, Mary Van Rensselaer, 511, 512 Thigpen, Kenyatta, 670 Thompson, Jacob, 205 Thompson, Kate, 205 Thompson, Malvina, 447, 454 Thornton, William, 53 Thurmond, Strom, 484 Tilden, Samuel J., 251, 254 Timberlake, John, 165 Timberlake, Peggy O’Neal, 119 Tittle, Alice, 517 Todd, Alexander, 216 Todd, Ann, 216 Todd, David, 216 Todd, Eliza Parker, 216 Todd, Elizabeth Humphreys, 216 Todd, Elodie, 216 Todd, Emilie, 216 Todd, George R. C., 216 Todd, John, 64 Todd, Katherine, 216 Todd, Margaret, 216 Todd, Robert S., 216, 217, 218, 220 Todd, Samuel, 216 Tracy, Benjamin Franklin, 275 Tracy, Delinda Catlin, 275 Tracy, Mary, 275 Tracy, Spencer, 586, 587 transportation, 83 Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo, 138 Treaty of Versailles, 370, 371 Tribble, Edwin, 360 Trilateral Commission, 579 Tripp, Linda, 648, 649 Trist, Nicholas, 54, 138 Troy, Gil: 340, 661; on Barbara Bush, 604–605, 608, 624, 626–27; on Hillary Clinton, 642, 644, 645, 649–50, 651; on Lady Bird Johnson, 522, 527; on Nancy Reagan, 593, 596; on Pat Nixon, 544, 549; on Rosalynn Carter, 577, 578 Truman Doctrine, 484 Truman, Elizabeth Virginia Wallace “Bess”: 2, 13, 428, 466, 486, 488, 495, 503, 505, 654;

739

campaign roles, 479, 480, 483, 489; criticism of, 481; early life, 476, 477; as First Lady, 480, 482, 483–84, 501; health issues, 479, 489; post-White House years, 486, 487, 488, 489; relationship with press, 481, 482, 507 Truman, Harry S.: 13, 477, 498; in Congress, 479, 480; relationship with Bess, 477, 478, 482, 483, 484; as US vice president, 480; as US president, 480, 481, 483, 484, 485 Truman, Margaret, 294, 333, 351, 481, 482, 484, 489, 490, 527, 607, 632 Truman, Mary Jane, 480 Truman, Mary Margaret, 477 Tucker, Jim Guy, 647 Tumulty, Joseph Patrick, 346, 361, 371, 372, 373, 374, 364 Turner, Paul Venable, 431 Turpin, Luci Johnson, 1 Tuskegee Normal and Industrial Institute, 290, 291 Twain, Mark, 664 Tyler, Daniel, III, 314 Tyler, David Gardiner, 154 Tyler, Gertrude, 314 Tyler, John, 142, 143, 145, 146–47, 148, 152–53, 155, 328 Tyler, John, Jr., 145, 146, 148, 152 Tyler, Julia Gardiner: 142; defense of slavery letter, 155, 156; early life, 149, 150; as First Lady, 149, 151–53; infamous lithograph, 149, 150, 151; at Sherwood Forest, 153, 154 Tyler, Letitia: 142, 144–45, 157; as First Lady, 145, 146, 147, 148; household management, 145, 146; poor health, 146, 147 Tyler, Lyon G., 148, 155 Tyler, Mary, 145, 146, 148 Tyler, Priscilla Cooper, 147, 147 Tyler, Robert, 148 Tyson, Job, 201 Udall, Morris, 576 United Nations, 615 United Negro College Fund, 610, 312 United States Capitol Building, 17 Updegrove, Mark, 671 Updike, John, 198, 202 US-Afghan Women’s Council (USAWC), 665, 672 USS Maine, 302 Van Buren, Abraham, 73, 131, 132, 133, 134, 136, 138, 139 Van Buren, Hannah Hoes, 129, 130

740

index

Van Buren, John “Prince John,” 132, 135, 136, 137, 169, 201 Van Buren, Martin, Jr., (son), 132, 136 Van Buren, Martin: 124, 126, 129–30, 139, 164, 165, 166, 167, 197, 600, 621; elitism, 135, 136; as United States president, 130, 131 Van Buren, Rebecca, 135 Van Buren, Sarah Angelica Singleton: 129, 131; education, 131, 132; in Europe, 133, 134, 138; as Lindenwald hostess, 136, 137, 138; as White House hostess, 133, 134, 135 Van Buren, Singleton, 137 Van Buren, Smith Thompson, 132, 137 Van Buren, Travis, 133, 138 Van Cleve, Charlotte, 120 Van der Kemp, François Adrian, 26 Van Dorn, Earl, 240 Van Natta, Don, Jr., 643, 648, 650 Van Rensselaer, Stephen, 104 Van Susteren, Greta, 670 Vance, Cyrus, 571 Vance, Susan Ford, 1 Vatter, Harold E., 499 Venzke, Craig Paul, 192, 193 Venzke, Jane Walter, 192, 193 Victor Emanuel (King of Italy), 97, 368 Victoria (Queen of England), 134, 201, 205 Vidal, Gore, 512 Vietnam War, 510, 522, 530, 546, 569, 582, 629, 638, 639, 664 Vigil, Tammy, 608 Villa, Pancho, 364 Virginia Colony, 6 Virginia House of Burgesses, 11 Von Damm, Helene, 595, 597 von Kantzow, Lucia Alice, 60, 61 Voorhis, Jerry, 538 Votaw, Helen H., 389 Waggenspack, Beth M., 333 Walch, Timothy, 431 Walker, Alice, 627, 628 Walker, Elizabeth, 49 Walker, George Herbert, 610 Walker, Herbie, 613 Walker, John, 614 Wallace, Chris, 661, 666 Wallace, David Fredrick, 476 Wallace, David Wilcock, 476, 477 Wallace, Frances Todd, 218 Wallace, Frank Gates, 476 Wallace, George Porterfield, 476 Wallace, George, 576

Wallace, Henry A., 451, 480, 484 Wallace, Madge Gates, 476, 477, 483, 486 Wallace, Mary, 393 Wallace, William, 218 Waller, Elizabeth Tyler, 153 Walworth, Arthur, 369 War of 1812: 13, 59, 61, 84, 99, 119, 663; see also Madison, Dolley Payne Todd: War of 1812; Madison, James: War of 1812 Ward, Ferdinand, 243 Warren, James, 28 Warren, Mercy Otis, 28 Warren, William “Bill,” 554 Washington Conference, 386 Washington Female Orphan Asylum, 72 Washington, Booker T., 263, 291, 307, 308 Washington, George: 6, 7, 17, 18, 19, 42, 46, 59, 60, 67, 68, 71, 80, 92, 94, 106, 111, 184, 203, 206, 311, 328; marriage, 9, 10; presidency, 13, 14; Revolutionary War, 11, 12, 13 Washington, Kerry, 709 Washington, Lawrence, 10, 11 Washington, Lund, 11 Washington, Martha, 531 Washington, Martha: 1, 8, 33, 37, 38, 39, 45, 47, 92, 177, 193; early life, 6–7, 8; as first lady, 12, 14–16, 531; hypochondria, 7, 11, 12; marriage to George Washington, 8, 9, 10; plantation management, 8, 9, 11; Revolutionary War, 11, 12; social class, 7, 8, 9 Watergate scandal, 488, 549, 616 Watson, Robert P.: 18, 39, 144, 145, 147, 152, 155, 157, 429, 491, 531, 570, 571, 608 Watt, James, 594, 595 Watts, Steven, 220 Waxman, Henry, 576 Weaver, Judith, 358 Weaver, Phyllis, 363 Webb, James, 248 Webb, Joseph, 248 Webb, Maria Cook, 248, 250 Webster, Daniel, 181, 185, 187 Weeks, John, 387 Weidenfeld, Sheila Rabb, 559, 560, 561, 562, 563, 564; 662 Weinstein, Edwin, 373 Weitz, Rose, 608 Welch, Harold, 655 Welch, Jenna, 655 Welch, Richard, 278 Welles, Gideon, 241 Wertheimer, Molly Meijer, 295, 608, 630 West, J. B., 512



index

Wharton, Anne Hollingsworth, 185 Wharton, Edith, 305 Whig Party, 109, 135, 142, 147, 163, 165, 166, 180, 187 Whipple, Evangeline, 280 Whipple, Henry Benjamin, 267, 268 Whitaker, Eric, 687 White House Historical Association, 304, 669 White House: 13; burning of, 84, 99; preservation/renovation of, 84–85, 222, 233, 280, 305, 306, 482, 495, 507–508, 668–69 White, Gerald, 156, 157 White, Henry, 329 White, Ryan, 626 White, Theodore, 509 White, William Allen, 397, 413, 414, 420 Whitman, Walt, 664 Whitney, Janet, 31, 32 Whitney, Peter, 30 Whitsett, Sarah Thompson, 160 Whitton, Mary Ormsbee, 143 Widmer, Edward L., 129 Wiggin, Mary C., 390 Wildman, Edwin, 413 Wilentz, Sean, 598, 599, 600 Willard, Frances, 172 Willett, Gilson, 307 Williams, Frederick D., 261 Williams, Marie Selika “Madame Selika,” 253 Wills, Garry, 62, 587, 592, 593, 596 Wilson, Edith Bolling Galt: 329, 339, 341, 344, 377, 351–52, 596; as de facto president, 370, 371, 372, 373, 374; early life and education, 358, 359; friendship with Eleanor Roosevelt, 375–76, 377; as First Lady, 261, 365, 368–69, 503; My Memoir, 374, 375; planning conferences, 326; racism, 359, 377, 386; relationship with Helen and Howard Taft, 326, 328; post-White House life, 374, 375, 376; relationship with Woodrow Wilson, 340, 357–58, 360–61, 362–64, 377, 417, 418, 420; women’s suffrage, 365, 366, 367, 368 Wilson, Ellen Louise Axson: 2, 226, 346, 358, 430, 490, 631; early life, 339, 340, 341, 342; paintings, 339, 340, 341, 343, 352–54; relationship with Woodrow Wilson, 339, 340, 341, 342, 343, 344–48, 355, 358; social reform advocacy, 342, 343, 348–52 Wilson, James Graham, 598 Wilson, James Grant, 185 Wilson, Jessie, 343, 350 Wilson, Joan Hoff, 433

741

Wilson, Major L., 129 Wilson, Margaret, 343 Wilson, Woodrow: 313, 314, 332, 334, 339, 385, 386, 394, 395; academic career, 344, 325; health issues, 357, 358, 360, 362, 365, 370–72, 373, 374; post-White House life, 374; relationship with Edith Wilson, 340, 357–58, 360–61, 362–64, 377, 417, 418, 420; relationship with Ellen Wilson, 339, 340, 341, 342, 343, 344–48, 355, 358; relationship with Mary Peck, 361, 362; women’s suffrage, 365, 366, 367, 368 Windom, William, 275 Winfrey, Oprah, 625, 657, 662 Wingematub, 260 Wister, Owen, 316, 317 Witcover, Jules, 592 Withey, Lynne, 32, 33 Wolf, Naomi, 655 Wolfskill, Mary M., 335, 336 Wollstonecraft, Mary, 62 Women Accepted for Volunteer Emergency Service (WAVES), 412 Women’s Christian Temperance Union (WCTU), 172, 253, 263, 270, 290 Women’s Democratic Club, 375 Women’s National Democratic League, 351 Women’s National Press Club, 448, 450 Women’s Suffrage Association Convention, 291 women’s suffrage, 241, 271, 314, 327, 351, 365, 366, 367, 368, 385, 420, 621 Woodard, David, 586, 587, 597 Woodhull, Victoria, 241 Woodruff, Judy, 576 Woodward, Bob, 637 Wordsworth, William, 342, 345 World War I, 365, 367, 375, 478 World War II, 16, 376, 412, 421, 452, 453 Wright, John, 285, 286 Wunderlin, Clarence E., 335 Wyman, Jane, 587 Wynette, Tammy, 644 Yates, Richard, 239 Yenowine, G. H., 181 Yorke, Sarah Jackson, 123 Young, John Russell, 242 Young, Nancy Beck, 3, 84, 143–44, 230, 431, 432 Young, Solomon, 477 Zaeske, Susan, 367, 368, 375 Zimbalist, Efrem, 329

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