White House gossip

by Edna M. Colman

Mrs. Coolidge has so many charming qualities that all who meet her become enthusiastic in discussing her. First of all, she is good-looking; she has, in fact, just missed being a beauty, has a slight girlish figure, sparkling eyes, and a smile that is already famous.

She is youth personified. She has a buoyancy of spirit, a joy of life that will keep her young past three score and ten. She radiates cheeriness and enthusiasm. She loves people, is willing to meet everyone halfway, and enjoys her social obligations. She is perfectly fitted to fill her rôle. Health, temperament, and age, all combine to aid her. To Mrs. Harding’s cordiality and suavity she adds the vigour and lightness of youth and health. She calls people her best books, loves being in the heart of history in the making, loves the contacts she gets with the celebrities of the world and the interesting people of our own land.

At the White House she is at her best. She makes no false moves. One of her first innovations was evolving an original response to appeals from organizations seeking donations from the Mistress of the White House for every conceivable project. An autographed steel engraving of the White House now goes in place of the dainty embroidered handkerchiefs which Mrs. Harding used to send.

Mrs. Coolidge’s New England conscience and training have given her a perspective, a set of standards, an appreciation of values, and a tact that keep her anchored to the conventional neutrality zone. She has brought to the White House an all-around efficiency of the New England housewife, the modern vision of the college woman, the broad understanding of the trained educator, without the limitations of the pedagogue, and the clearly marked responsibility of the citizen and voter and co-partner with her husband in his political obligations to his party and to his country.

As the time for the inauguration of Calvin Coolidge approached, he was much better equipped even than when he inherited the office through the accident of death. Nor had he exhausted his strength or lost his calm understanding of what would be expected of him.

President Coolidge possesses a genius for work. Contrary to the popular belief developed in the past few years, that the presidential job is too much for the vitality of any man, President Coolidge has thrived upon its manifold exactions. He has gained weight and found enjoyment, not hardship, in his office and the opportunities opened thereby. Without doubt, the electrical steed which the President had installed and which caused such a whirlwind of comment, none of which retarded its use, has had much to do in keeping him fit. However it is, both he and Mrs. Coolidge approached the time of their installation as the choice of the American people, in good health and happy spirits.

Just before the Inauguration, there was a great deal of discussion and adverse comment on the custom of shaking hands. The fact that, although in the White House but about twenty months, President Coolidge had shaken hands with ninety thousand people brought forth argument against the practice on the part of some of his close friends. A committee was appointed to attempt to relieve him of some of his routine duties. When the solicitous group had expounded to him their views upon the matter and expressed their desires and intentions, expecting him to acquiesce with pleasure and possibly with praise for their thoughtfulness of him, he electrified them and disposed of the entire matter in his characteristic fashion—“BUT I LIKE IT!”

The quirky lines about the President’s mouth and eyes, a certain twinkle that insists upon showing itself, are evidences of his sense of humour, and emphasize the fact that he is a reserved New Englander, whose reserve is just the outer crust of dignity, a sort of public armour, shield, and buckler against the too intrusive, which must melt away into genial friendliness. He has a dry wit, keen-edged, that is infectious with its quiet drollery.

At one of the informal gatherings, a woman, desiring to impress herself upon his mind, remarked airily, “Mr. President, I’m from Boston!” With that twinkle that is so ready to show itself, he remarked instantly, “You’ll never get over it!”

In accordance with his wish, the ceremonies for March 4, 1925, were made as simple and free from display as possible. Fifty thousand visitors supplied in enthusiasm what was lacking in brilliant display, and many were the regrets that so momentous an event in the nation’s life should be accompanied by so little of the pageantry of pomp and power. All of the enthusiasm of former days possessed the throngs of pedestrians along the route to and from the Capitol.