by Jeff Guinn
Rt. Rev. William F. Anderson, Bishop of the Methodist Episcopal Church of Ohio is a close friend of President Harding and is also a good friend of mine. He is a real man’s man—our kind of a man.
He had arranged with the President, Mrs. Harding, Mrs. Anderson and Himself, and Mrs. Firestone and myself, to spend a week-end at [Rev. Anderson’s] old home on the Cheat River in West Virginia. He was at my home a few days ago and I showed him one of our camping books and told him that if it was agreeable to you and Mr. Ford possibly we could take our camping outfit and have our camping trip this year down in the mountains of West Virginia.
He wrote the President regarding such a trip and had a reply indicating that he would like to make a short trip with us in the middle of July. I am to call on [the president] June 8 or 9 with Bishop Anderson to complete the arrangements if he and Mrs. Harding can go. I wish that you would write me if it would be agreeable to you and Mrs. Edison to transfer our Michigan [trip] to the mountains of West Virginia so that we could have the President and his wife with us. . . . My thought would be that we would plan a three to five day trip for the President . . . and then we would finish up our camping trip in another five or ten days without [him].
I will be in New York before going to Washington and if you prefer I will try to call on you.
Edison scribbled to Meadowcroft in the letter’s margin, “Say I will talk it over when he comes to lab—I have 1 or 2 suggestions.” It turned out that Edison had quite a few suggestions, starting with how Firestone should find the perfect location for a presidential campsite. Secret Service agents’ requirements for Harding’s protection paled beside the inventor’s insistence on a spot isolated enough to keep away everyone but the campers and their combined entourages. The agents wanted to ensure the president’s safety; Edison hoped for Harding’s undivided attention. During the day, the president could gambol all he liked, but at night by the campfire, he and Edison would discuss at length and uninterrupted America’s rubber crisis, and the inability of the Navy (or, by logical extension, all branches of the U.S. military) to innovate by actually making use of input from outside experts, instead of soliciting, then ignoring it completely—subjects, in Edison’s view, of vital national interest.
Harding had specified to Firestone and Rev. Anderson that he would need to be no more than a few hours’ drive from Washington, so Firestone, certainly in tandem with the Secret Service, prepared a four-page typed report listing several potential campsites well within a day’s drive from the capital. Firestone sent a copy of the report to Edison, admitting that “the main roads are well populated with tourists most of the hours of the day,” but assuring the inventor that the proposed sites themselves were “well off the beaten track.” All the suggested spots were “either along the course of [rivers] or high in the mountains and in spots well shaded thus giving the coolest temperature possible.”
Edison found them all unacceptable and fired off a telegram: “If Mr. H. is to be a week with us the route proposed is very poor proposition nothing wild or secluded about it & only hills not mountains.”
The eventual choice was a pleasant grove on private land west of Hagerstown, Maryland, and a few miles from the town of Pecktonville. A relatively busy road ran close by, but access to the property—informally known as the Island, framed by the waters of Licking Creek and near the mighty Potomac River—was by a bridge that could be easily controlled by Secret Service agents. The camp was sufficiently isolated to suit Edison, who immediately embarked on another task.
The inventor realized that presidents are never entirely on vacation. During his camp time with the Vagabonds, three to five days, maybe more if he really enjoyed himself, Harding would surely need at least occasionally to communicate with his staff in Washington. The nearest phone to the Licking Creek campsite was a mile down the road at a general store—Edison didn’t want the president frequently whisked away to take or make White House calls. On June 21, the same day that Harding confirmed that he and the First Lady could join the Vagabonds on the weekend of July 23, Meadowcroft made a written request of the U.S. Signal Corps: “In order that Mr. Harding may be in constant communication with Washington, Mr. Edison thinks that the Signal Corps could probably provide a radio outfit in a good automobile, possibly equipped with a pole by which signals might be transmitted while in motion. . . . Mr. Edison thinks that the Officers of the Signal Corps might be greatly pleased to have the opportunity of doing a stunt like this.”
They were. But as soon as the Signal Corps began building the special radio, the military expressed concern that vital government secrets might be discussed in an open transmission potentially monitored by foreign spies. Edison had a solution, which Meadowcroft explained in a letter to the Department of the Navy: “If they could provide a Code book of which Mr. Harding’s Secretary had a duplicate, a code operator could be sent with the Outfit so that he could code any confidential dispatch and keep it away from the amateur wireless people.”
That was agreeable, so long as Edison was able to procure the required order from the president. Edison now felt everything necessary was in place for Harding’s convenient radio contact with his advisors from camp. The inventor wanted to personally break the happy news to him. He and Harding had never met, but Edison indicated his anticipation of a warm relationship by the salutation in a July 15 letter he had Firestone hand carry to the White House. Though in correspondence Edison invariably hewed to formality, this time he used a chummy, informal greeting he’d previously reserved for Henry Ford: “Friend Harding.” The inventor took pains to make sure the president understood the trouble he’d gone to on Harding’s behalf:
As you should be in hourly touch with Washington, I have arranged with the Radio Branch of the Government that an automobile with radio outfit can accompany the party. All that is required is authority from the Secretary of War to the Department to send the outfit with the necessary personnel. This will be quite a good experiment and I am sure it will work. . . . This may be a new way to mix recreation with business but it is perfectly practical, and I hope you will take the opportunity to revert to the barbaric state, for a little while at least.
A day later, Firestone gave Edison the president’s typed, tone-deaf reply.
My dear Mr. Edison . . . I am writing to say that so far as I am concerned I have no desire for radio service in the camp. One of the attractive features of the camping party is freedom from all such things.
Harding said that if Edison wanted the radio setup as a personal experiment, he’d arrange it. Otherwise, “I am anticipating a pleasant session in company with you and your very attractive associates.”
Edison was deeply offended. This was reflected in his formally worded letter of July 18. “My dear Mr. Harding” was advised that
so far as the radio service is concerned my first thought was for your convenience, and secondly as an interesting and instructive experiment from a government standpoint to see if radio service can be properly and quickly handled in a mountainous country under challenging conditions. . . . However, as my chief wish is that you shall have an enjoyable outing, please decide the matter according to your personal inclination and kindly advise me, as I have made some preliminary arrangements.
There’s no record of Harding replying further, but he was not accompanied by a “radio service” car in the Vagabonds’ camp.
* * *
Ford, like Edison, had hopes of long, private discussions with the president. They had some obvious areas of philosophic disagreement. Ford enthusiastically supported the League of Nations. Harding opposed it. Harding embraced tougher immigration policies. Ford employed many immigrants—U.S. manufacturers found them willing to perform dull, rudimentary assembly tasks disdained by American workers. The president was a Republican. Political parties meant little to Ford, but he’d run for the Senate in 1918 as a Democrat.
Still, both men firmly believed that the obligation of government was to support business, not overregula
te it. Mainstream newspapers had recently been editorially unfavorable to Ford and Harding, but both had their own connection with journalism—prior to entering politics Harding owned and operated The Star, an Ohio newspaper in his hometown of Marion, and Ford currently had the Dearborn Independent. Now, with their first meeting imminent, Ford was determined that he and Harding would agree on another issue.
* * *
On July 8, two weeks before Harding joined the Vagabonds in camp but several weeks after it was confirmed that the president was coming, Ford made a formal purchase offer to the U.S. government for a ninety-nine-year lease on a dam complex and some nitrate plants in Muscle Shoals, Alabama. The projects were originally funded in 1916 by the Wilson administration at a cost of about $85 million. Harnessing water power along the Tennessee River was one objective, but a more crucial one was developing nitrate plants as a source of explosives for use in the war. Construction was completed in 1918, but only a few months later the war was over—and so was any sense of federal urgency at Muscle Shoals. President Wilson suggested that the government continue operating the plants and dam to make nitrogen fertilizers for farmers. This innovative concept would have been a tremendous boon to farmers, but to many it smacked of socialism and Congress rejected the proposed legislation. When Harding succeeded Wilson in the White House, the new administration put the Alabama project up for sale to private business, and Ford wanted it. His offer of $5 million was trifling compared to the original cost to taxpayers, but Ford promised that in return he’d invest whatever was necessary to harness the vast hydroelectric power from the dams and manufacture cheap fertilizers at the nitrate plant, boosting both the regional economy and crop production. Muscle Shoals would, Ford believed, match or even exceed the benefits he bestowed on America by introducing an affordable car for the great multitudes.
Ford expected a quick, positive response—surely legislators would realize that he was doing this for public benefit, not personal profit. But established power companies and fertilizer manufacturers didn’t relish a new rival who’d already crushed his competitors in the automobile industry. They immediately lobbied against Ford with Washington lawmakers, and the carmaker’s bid was shunted off into a tangle of congressional committee hearings and staff studies rather than brought up for immediate decision. Harding’s enthusiastic support could remedy that, and Ford was about to entertain the president as his guest at an isolated camp.
* * *
Firestone found himself far more preoccupied with logistics than in previous years. Keeping Ford, Edison, and, until his demise, the fussy Burroughs comfortable on the road without sacrificing their sense of adventure was challenging enough. Pleasing the president, First Lady, and the Vagabond wives (if Mrs. Harding was coming, so were they) and extended families added considerably to the difficulty. Ford, as usual, paid for everything, but Firestone had to oversee the purchases. Besides the usual Ford staffers needed to set up and strike camp, cook, and serve as general factotums, Harding would be accompanied by several male secretaries, teams of Secret Service agents on rotating guard duty, and at least one or two body servants charged with assisting the president in dressing and other tasks. All needed to be accommodated, as well as the retinue of hairdressers, wardrobe mistresses, and personal maids required by the First Lady and Vagabonds wives—it was impossible to know for certain the exact number of people staying in the camp. Estimates ranged from thirty-five to fifty. There had to be tents, cots, and bedding for them all, as well as chairs and mirrors (men’s for shaving, ladies’ for application of cosmetics), towels and soap, and vast quantities of potable water as well as discreet privies. The magnificent cooking truck that served the normal camping party so well needed to be supplemented for such a crowd, perhaps with full firepits to be dug in advance of the president’s arrival. Menus had to be determined, and access to fresh meats and ingredients arranged. Here, Firestone proved ingenious. He prevailed on a church women’s group in Ohio to pluck and dress one hundred chickens, bake dozens of cakes and innumerable cookies, and send the load on to Maryland in the Vagabonds’ refrigerated truck. Other foodstuffs would be obtained from farms near the camp. Firestone’s responsibilities didn’t extend to providing for the media. So far as meals—and shelter and sanitation—were concerned, the press, held by the Secret Service beyond the bridge over the river that provided access to the campsite except at such times as the campers granted them access, had to fend for themselves.
No effort was spared to make the president and First Lady feel welcome and comfortable in the Vagabonds’ camp—and then, just days before their scheduled arrival, the guests of honor balked.
* * *
Barely four months into his first White House term, Warren G. Harding was popular with the public and with the Republican majorities in the Senate and House of Representatives. To rank-and-file Americans, even those who voted against Harding, the new incumbent at least looked and acted healthy, a radical change from enfeebled Woodrow Wilson. He seemed comfortingly normal in other ways—Harding was an avid golfer (the sport was sweeping America almost as swiftly as autocamping), and like so many of his fellow countrymen, the president was known to enjoy a hand or two of poker. The senators and congressmen of his party appreciated his hands-off approach to legislation. Harding enjoyed espousing general themes—protect business, lower taxes, keep immigrants out and foreign entanglements minimal—but left designing and implementing specific policies to others. The press, so critical of Harding before his election, mostly demonstrated respect for him after his victory. Harding’s failings as a president and husband were yet to be revealed, the former to a limited extent during his last months in office and the latter only after his death. The sole national “scandal” involving Harding so far was a persistent rumor during the 1920 presidential campaign that he was partly black, and the margin of his victory quashed that.
As a former newspaper publisher, Harding understood the value of publicity and the fleeting aspects of positive coverage just as much as Edison and Ford. As a newly inaugurated president, Harding currently enjoyed a honeymoon with most of the public and press, but at some point he had to do something to sustain their interest and support. It wasn’t going to be groundbreaking legislation; Harding had no aptitude for that. The president’s strongest support came from Middle America, so it made sense to associate himself with heartland heroes Ford and Edison. The United Press wire service story announcing Harding’s plan to camp with the Vagabonds speculated that Harding would permanently replace Burroughs among them, and that their “selection of Harding to take the vacant place in this camping club of distinguished men [would be] considered one of the most unique honors conferred since he became president.” The implication was that Harding was in some sense a supplicant. But the president made certain that impression didn’t last long.
* * *
The articles announcing that the Hardings would join the Vagabonds sometime on Saturday, July 23, appeared in papers only on the day before, with the secret kept until then for fear that earlier publicity would result in mobs thronging toward the Licking Creek site, hoping for glimpses of the famous campers. The ink was hardly dry on the newsprint when the White House notified Harding’s hosts that the president and First Lady wouldn’t be able to stay three or four days after all. Important matters required Harding to return to the White House by Sunday afternoon. Left unsaid was that the president didn’t need to stay any longer than that to get the coverage he wanted. Photo-worthy activities already promised to the press such as horseback riding (Firestone trucked in a half-dozen of his personal mounts), fishing, tramping in the woods, a concert/singalong, and a lengthy prayer service now had to be shoehorned into Saturday afternoon and Sunday morning, leaving little if any time for Ford and Edison to proselytize the president on behalf of the Muscle Shoals bid and American-produced rubber. They had to accept it. They’d have at least some private time with the president and, besides, their wives would still hobnob with the First Lady, wi
th photos in every newspaper to prove it.
But Florence Kling Harding came down with a cold or hay fever or the flu. White House bulletins weren’t specific. Sometime late Friday or early Saturday the Vagabonds were informed that, due to her sudden and regrettable illness, and on advice from the White House physician, the First Lady would not join her husband at the camp. Clara Ford, Mina Edison, and Idabelle Firestone may have strongly suspected that Mrs. Harding simply didn’t want to leave the luxury of the White House for a tent, but they had no recourse other than sending a gracious note to Washington expressing their disappointment and hope that the First Lady recovered soon.
* * *
Friday found almost everyone, Vagabonds and wives included, working to get the Licking Creek camp in order before the president and the press arrived the next day. Firestone told reporters later that “everything went like clockwork,” but if the journalists had been there on Friday they would have known better. Firestone had arranged for forty cots, but neglected to bring any bedding beyond the usual rough blankets that were sufficient on previous trips. Clara Ford was appalled. The president and the ladies, at least, deserved decent covers, and pillows, too. She dispatched staffers to Hagerstown to make the necessary purchases. An extra-large dining tent was set up—it was impossible to know how many people would be on hand for meals, so additional tables had to be procured for those who’d have to dine alfresco. As expected, the weather was fine, but no one anticipated the swarming clouds of mosquitoes. Smudge pots needed to be set up all around the camp. Ford took charge of that. Scouting parties searched out the best routes for presidential hikes and horseback rides. Nothing was left to chance.