White House gossip

by Edna M. Colman

ADMINISTRATION OF BENJAMIN
HARRISON

March 4, 1889, to March 4, 1893

MARCH 4, 1889, found Washington City dismal and bedraggled. Her gay decorations were soggy and discoloured, and under the steady downpour of a heavy rainstorm, driven at times by a high chill wind, were either drooping or whipping about, scattering spurts of icy water. All of the elaborate features of the display planned so energetically to exceed those of the Cleveland inauguration ceremonies were ruined or had to be abandoned. Only one idea prevailed—to do what was necessary and escape to shelter from the elements. An inauguration crowd, however, is not easily discouraged. Long experience with March weather at the Capital City has taught the merchant and the tourist to prepare for the unexpected. Rubbers, raincoats, and umbrellas were in such demand that the stock was literally sold out early in the morning, for the great assemblage of visitors turned out, in spite of the pouring rain, to do honour to the first Chief Magistrate who had the distinction of succeeding to the office once held by his grandfather. Benjamin Harrison, grandson of “Old Tippecanoe,” the ninth in the line of the nation’s Presidents, had been elected the people’s choice as twenty-third President.

President Cleveland and President-elect Harrison concluded to brave the weather, dressed accordingly, and rode in an open carriage to the Capitol. In the struggle with the wind-driven rain, one of the umbrellas became disabled and another was borrowed from Secretary Fairchild of the Cabinet, the retiring President calling out reassuringly, “We are honest folk, we will return it.” The presidential party was escorted by the Seventieth Indiana Regiment, which had been recruited and commanded by Colonel Harrison in the Civil War.

The inauguration ceremonies were not exactly on schedule time at the Capitol, and as the hands of the clock were about to indicate the noon hour, Captain Bassett, nicknamed by the pages “Old Father Time,” appeared with his long pole and pushed the hands back ten minutes. After another wait, he again set them back, this time six minutes. Two minutes after, President Cleveland entered with the President-elect. Vice President Morton was sworn in, and the regular procedure followed on the East Portico, where the oath was administered by Chief Justice Fuller. So much had been said of President Harrison’s oratory and clever speech-making that the concourse about the Capitol was packed with people so anxious to hear his words as to disregard the discomforts of the long wait in the rain. To a sea of black umbrellas, President Harrison delivered a twenty-minute address.

The return trip to the White House was uneventful. The street crowd, enthusiastic and faithful, drenched and bedraggled, sustained their interest until the last marchers had passed.

President and Mrs. Cleveland had arranged the luncheon for their successors, immediately after which came the review of the parade of men that again occupied the time until dark in passing the President’s stand.

Once more the Pension Office was used for the inaugural ball, where twelve thousand people gave the new presidential party a royal welcome.

A notable feature in the decoration was a huge ship of state made entirely of flowers, suspended from the ceiling and so constructed as to shower the presidential party with blossoms as they entered. This floral piece was thirty feet long and was the largest design ever made of natural flowers.

Mrs. Harrison’s beautiful pearl brocade gown with its elaborate gold embroidery and long train was much admired. It was of especial interest to the women of the land, as there had been such an effort put forth to induce her to wear décolleté. She emphatically refused, and her ball gown, open a little at the throat, filled in with old point lace, with its elbow sleeves, was sufficiently rich and elegant to please the most critical.