Recollections of full years

by Helen Herron Taft

I do not wish to convey an impression that life in the White House is all a public entertainment, but there are a certain number of set functions during every season which are as much a part of Washington life as is a Congressional session. But even with teas, luncheons, musicals, small dinners, garden parties and dances coming at short intervals between the more official entertainments, we still had many evenings when there were so few guests as to make us feel quite like a family party. Indeed, once in a while we dined alone.

We began immediately, as our first spring advanced, to make almost constant use of the porches and terraces which are among the most attractive features of the White House. The long terrace extending from the East Room I found to be a most delightful promenade for guests on warm spring evenings, while the corresponding terrace leading out from the Dining Room proved most useful for large dinner parties at times when dining indoors would have been rather unpleasant.

With Congress in session nearly all summer Mr. Taft gave a series of Congressional dinners and the last one he had served on this terrace. A curious incident marked the occasion for special remembrance. It was known that one of the Senators invited had never crossed the White House threshold because of his unfriendly feeling toward the administration. He paid no attention whatever to his invitation—a formal one, of course, requiring a formal answer—until the day before the dinner. He then called the White House on the telephone and asked if he would be expected to wear a dress suit. Mr. Hoover, who received the inquiry, replied that evening dress was customary at White House dinners, whereupon the Senator mumbled something at the other end of the line. Mr. Hoover asked him whether or not he intended to come. He replied that he guessed he would, and abruptly rang off.

The next evening the party waited for him for a full half hour before they decided to sit down without him, and even then his vacant place was kept open for him. He did not come nor did he ever offer any kind of apology or excuse for his extraordinary conduct. There are certain manifestations of so-called Jeffersonian simplicity in this country of ours that I am sure Jefferson would deplore if he lived in this day and generation.

MRS. TAFT ON THE POTOMAC DRIVE

The north verandah of the White House is pleasant enough, but it lacks the charm of seclusion peculiar to the south portico which runs around the oval Blue Room and looks out upon the broad south garden with its great fountain, and with Potomac Park, the River and Washington’s Monument in the background. This soon became our favourite retreat and we used to sit there in the ever lengthening spring evenings, breathing the perfume of magnolia blossoms, watching the play of lights on the tree-dotted lawns and on the Monument—which is never so majestic as in the night—and realising to the full the pleasant privilege of living in this beautiful home of Presidents.

Mr. Taft had a Victrola in the Blue Room and he never failed, when opportunity offered, to lay out a few favourite records for his evening’s entertainment. Melba and Caruso, the Lucia Sextette, some old English melodies, a few lively ragtime tunes; in those delightful surroundings we found a Victrola concert as pleasant a diversion as one could desire. With no applause, no fixed attention, no conversation, no effort of any kind required, my husband found on such quiet evenings a relaxation he was fully able to appreciate during that first trying summer.

That Manila could lend anything to Washington may be an idea that would surprise some persons, but the Luneta is an institution whose usefulness to society in the Philippine capital is not to be overestimated. At least it was so in my day; and for a long time before Mr. Taft became President I had looked with ambitious designs upon the similar possibilities presented in the drives, the river-cooled air and the green swards of Potomac Park. I determined, if possible, to convert Potomac Park into a glorified Luneta where all Washington could meet, either on foot or in vehicles, at five o’clock on certain evenings, listen to band concerts and enjoy such recreation as no other spot in Washington could possibly afford.

The Army officer in charge of Public Buildings and Grounds had a bandstand erected in an admirable location at the end of an ellipse, and we decided that the long drive theretofore known as “The Speedway” should be renamed Potomac Drive. Arrangements were made to have band concerts every Wednesday and Saturday afternoon from five to seven o’clock.