White House gossip

by Edna M. Colman

No procession in any part of our broad land is at all like an inaugural parade. The appearances of the new incumbent of the White House before and after taking the oath call forth incidents, episodes, comments, complimentary and critical, of a type wholly American. Thus, the crowd whiles away the hours between the ride to the Capitol and the return to the White House. The journey to the ceremony of swearing in the President-elect is usually made in company with the retiring head of the nation, and is often a divided honour, tinged with the regret of parting with the man who has filled the place for four years. Coming back, the new leader fills the picture. All triumphant, he belongs to the people, and demonstrations carry the note of jubilation grateful to the ear. Many amusing things happen in a good-natured celebration, and human nature unrestrained effervesces and bubbles over the rim of everyday restraint. One sees and hears the flamboyant individuals—always in evidence—who knew the new President in every stage of his life and career.

Among the many amusing features of the Cleveland parade was the arrival of President Cleveland’s baggage. The crowd patiently waiting in the covered stand across from the White House found great entertainment in watching the open wagon piled high with shabby and travel-scarred trunks, all marked “G.C.” in large white letters, which turned in at the White House gates. The large white letters and the destination sent the crowd into shouts of laughter at “Grover’s moving in!” The crowning feature was a huge bent-wood armchair, large enough for three ordinary men, which topped the load. This was the first of the thousands of gifts sent to Mr. Cleveland by admirers and favour-seeking citizens.

One of the charming stories of Grover Cleveland illustrates his great love and understanding of children. After his election in 1884, while in Kenwood, he requested that the children attending the Convent of the Sacred Heart be given a holiday on his Inauguration Day. In spite of all of the demands upon his time and attention in departing for Washington, he did not forget the matter, but on March 2d sent a check for fifty dollars to provide a celebration. With it he sent a note to the Mother Superior.

Albany, Mar. 2, 1885.

Dear Mother O’Rorke:

I send by my good friend Mr. McCall something which I hope will cause the little ones at the Convent to know that, while they are thinking of me, they are not forgotten by the man who in the midst of their holiday is undergoing the most perplexing ordeal that his life can bring to him.

With many kind thoughts of you and all of the good people, I am,

Yours faithfully,
Grover Cleveland.

The letter and the check brought great delight. They were duly acknowledged and the President told of the details of the party. After the feast was finished, the children were provided with tiny bottles of champagne, from which a toast was drunk to “Our new President, Grover Cleveland,” and certainly no other toast carried more unselfish affection and sincere good wishes for the new President than the one from the Convent pupils, who also sent him a telegram of congratulation to the White House on the evening of Inauguration Day.

Preparations to make the inaugural ball of the new Democratic President outstrip all of its predecessors had gone on for months. The new Pension Building, recently completed, was chosen for the affair. New York decorators transformed the interior into an extravagantly beautiful scene. Ferns, palms, flags, and draperies, costing thousands of dollars, covered walls and arches. In the President’s room stood a huge throne chair made of flowers, while a gigantic globe, also of flowers, was made to represent the State, the War, and the Navy departments, and flower scales, the Department of Justice. The Marine Band, under the direction of John Philip Sousa, furnished dance music for more than two thousand couples. Eight thousand people attended this ball, and while the highly waxed dancing hall measured three hundred by one hundred and sixteen feet, there was never at any time during the entire evening room on the floor for all those desiring to dance.