Coolidge

by Robert Sobel

  Coolidge delivered a speech on Washington’s birthday that caused some talk, for in it he referred to Washington’s Farewell Address, noting that it was Jefferson, not Washington, who coined the phrase “entangling alliances.” He suggested that Washington had warned against alliances in which two countries banded together against other nations; “It had no reference to an association of nations in an attempt to recognize their common interests and discharge their common obligations.” Many took this as an endorsement of the League of Nations. Curiously, this section was omitted from the version dispatched to Europe. But the revelation caused only fleeting concern, since Coolidge would be out of office shortly.

  In early March, Washington prepared to bid farewell to the Coolidges and greet the Hoovers. Flags were raised on many buildings, and the sanitation workers were busily cleaning the streets. Union Station was packed, as special trains arrived filled with celebrators eager for the festivities. At the White House Coolidge worked long into the night, signing bills and taking care of other last-minute details. His work during the day had been interrupted by visits of well-wishers, and he spared the time to greet visitors personally at the White House front door.

  In New York, theater owners reported record attendance. More than three dozen shows were playing in the district, including vehicles starring Ethel Barrymore, Eddie Cantor, Edward G. Robinson, Beatrice Lillie, and the Marx Brothers. Motion picture theaters advertised “sound pictures,” better known as “talkies.” The Broadway Melody, called an “All-Talking, Singing, Dancing, Sensation,” was playing to standing room only crowds, and other popular films were My Man starring Fannie Brice, Wolf Song with Gary Cooper, The Iron Mask with Douglas Fairbanks, and fittingly, The Wolf of Wall Street starring George Bancroft. Radio fare was largely music and talks, and many stations carried the Wall Street closing prices.

  By 1929 automobiles jammed the roads, spurring a major construction boom. The Ford Model A, introduced in 1927, had been greeted enthusiastically, but the talk of the industry was of Walter Chrysler, who had come from almost nowhere to construct the third largest company in the industry. In early 1929 Chrysler described the rise of the automobile: “As I visualized its future, it far outran railway development, which had reached its zenith.” Auto sales for February reached an all-time high for that month. But soon after came a familiar warning; the Federal Oil Conservation Board announced that there was a danger the country would run out of petroleum in the foreseeable future because of the mania for automobiles. Steel production was at capacity.

  Overall, Wall Street was moving along nicely. New issue offerings set a February record of $688 million; dividends that month also set a record. Gold exports were rising, indicating Europe’s growing confidence in the future there. But on February 2 the Fed complained that banks were using their money to finance speculation on Wall Street, prompting a selloff. In its 1928 Annual Report, released in late February, the Fed warned against the level of member bank borrowings, and in response the Dallas branch raised its rediscount rate to 5 percent.

  Mixed signals or not, the outlook on Wall Street was optimistic, as prices rose in what was called “the inaugural market” by some and “the Hoover market” by others. At its annual meeting RCA announced a five-for-one stock split. In discussing radio’s impact on the 1928 election, President James Harbord said, “So clearly and completely were the issues of the campaign laid before the electorate that the possibility is visualized of future presidential campaigns being shortened to perhaps a month, thus minimizing the demoralization and interruption of business hitherto characteristic of the quadrennial campaigns.”

  In March 1929 some airline passengers were able to view in-flight films for the first time. That same month “automatic traffic controls”—or traffic lights—were introduced in New York. Among the clichés of the time were “What will they think of next” and “new and improved.” The present was satisfying, the future promising, the outlook unclouded. This was supposed to be the Coolidge legacy.

  Coolidge bade farewell to the press on February 28. He said he wanted to be remembered as an administrator who was not “constantly harassing business” and finding panaceas for government. Two years later, in one of his articles, he phrased it another way: “I would like to be known as a former president who tried to mind his own business.”

  Nevertheless, the newspapers credited his policies with causing the greatest economic expansion in history.

  On Friday, March 1, Coolidge arose at 6:30 AM. After surveying the decorations for the inaugural, he went to the office and signed nearly two hundred measures. Then he stood at the front door and shook hands with 553 visitors. Saturday was quiet, and on Sunday the New York Times offered its assessment of the business scene:On the evening of the inauguration all is quite well in business as a general thing. The credit situation is the one cloud and it has grown somewhat darker with the further outburst of security speculation. So far rising money rates, caused by the siphoning of funds into the stock market, appeared to have affected only building operations, which for the month just closed ran some 15 per cent under the same month last year. The Conference of Statisticians in Industry points out in its latest report, however, that since building and automobile manufacture have gone ahead so largely as a result of credit expansion their prospects may depend largely upon the trend in credit.

  Unsurprisingly, the press was kind to the departing president. In its editorial, the Times wrote of his “distinctive personality” and called him “one of the shrewdest politicians who ever came to direct the destinies of this nation,” and concluded:The best remains to be said. It is of the deep impress made by President COOLIDGE’S rugged integrity. This was like a rock in 1924. While the country was left shuddering and ashamed by the revelations of corruption under President HARDING, it turned with relief and confidence to the unchallenged simplicity and purity of the life which, both official and private, was going on in the White House. Mr. COOLIDGE had such a shield in his demonstrated character that political arrows fell from it blunted and broken. And how greatly he was helped in all this by the charm and unaffected kindness of the First Lady in the White House is needless to say, for the whole nation has been a gratified witness of it. The two now return to their Massachusetts home, not amid wild acclaim, but with solid and enduring evidence of public affection and gratitude.

  But he had always had his opponents in the media. The Nation summed up its case against him on March 6:Mr. Coolidge retires amid the acclaim of those whom he has served. To the business men who wanted a moratorium on reform and newfangled ideas and wished to get the government out of business he has been a godsend. For others it is possibly too early to appraise his work, but it has certain outstanding characteristics. The Coolidge administration has been distinguished. It has been distinguished, first, by its complacent attitude toward shocking corruption in high office; second, by its complete surrender of the regulatory powers of the government to the interests to be regulated; third, by the mediocrity or downright shabbiness of the men appointed to high administrative and judicial posts; fourth, by its hypocritical and despotic treatment of our small Latin-American neighbors; and fifth, by the policy whereby it was resolved that the period of greatest national prosperity was the proper time to inaugurate the practice of starving all productive public enterprise. Curiously enough, the things for which Mr. Coolidge will be longest remembered—the Kellogg Treaty and the appointment of Dwight W. Morrow as ambassador to Mexico—were in a sense accidental, notably the pact. Mr. Kellogg, who proposed the treaty, did not realize its significance and wanted to drop it when France and England made their reservations. It is doubtful if even today Mr. Coolidge realizes what it is all about. Otherwise, it is hard to understand why he has stood for the fifteen-cruiser bill. Vision, courage, the knowledge how to serve the masses and the desire to aid them, a realization of a new and better world—these, and much else, have been denied him.

  Sherwin Lawrence Cook, a Massachusetts polit
ician and journalist, tried to rank Coolidge among the other presidents. Cook, who had at times been critical of President Coolidge, wrote:Coolidge is not among the great American presidents. Neither is he among the presidential failures. You may put a few, three or four, into the first class. You may put Grant, Harding, Buchanan, Tyler, and Pierce into the third class. Between these two groups stand the great bulk of our presidents, leaving out of the reckoning the first Harrison, Taylor, and Garfield, who died too soon for estimates. This long line were able, honorable, generally useful men. The serviceable Coolidge does not lead the group. He had neither the great qualities of Hayes, the deep intellect of Harrison, nor the tact of Van Buren. On the other hand, both in purpose and ability, he transcends a Polk or a Fillmore.

  On inauguration day, March 4, Coolidge arose at 7:00 AM, and after breakfast went to his office. On the way he saw Ike Hoover, the White House chief usher. “Good morning, Mr. Hoover,” he said. “How’s the weather?” “Rather uncertain; looks as though it might rain,” said Hoover. “Well, I hope not,” replied Coolidge. “But it always has rained on my moving days.” Then he went to his desk and signed more bills. Herbert Hoover was driven to the White House and arrived at 10:30. Then he and Coolidge went to the ceremonies. Hoover was smiling, and Coolidge, as usual, had a blank look on his face.

  After the inaugural speech the Coolidges slipped away to take the train to Northampton. At Union Station he made a brief statement: “Good-bye. I have had a very enjoyable time in Washington.” Coolidge later wrote, “Although I was in excellent health and felt greatly relieved from governmental responsibilities, of course I found I was both physically and mentally considerably exhausted.” In his Autobiography Coolidge added, “We draw our presidents from the people. It is a wholesome thing for them to return to the people. I came from them. I wish to be one of them again.” And so the Coolidges returned to the two-family house on Massasoit Street, where the rent had been boosted to $36 since he left for Washington.

  Claude Fuess and others have estimated that when Coolidge left office he had $400,000 in assets, a great deal of money for the times. Coolidge had no need financially to seek employment or return to his law practice, but he had worked hard all his life, and he wouldn’t change now.

  Many rumors regarding Coolidge’s post-presidential work surfaced during the last weeks in the White House. At various times he was supposed to become president of the American Petroleum Institute, president of a Vermont insurance company, and a spokesman for Merrill Lynch. There was some vague talk about a connection with American Telephone & Telegraph. One story had it that Hoover would name him to the Supreme Court when the next vacancy occurred. Another had him running for a Senate seat. On November 24, 1928, the New York Times reported, “President Coolidge had not even made a tentative decision as to what occupation he will follow when, on his retirement from the White House, he returns to Northampton, after more than twenty years of holding office.” Coolidge found all of this troublesome. “You cannot realize how much I long for peace and privacy,” he wrote to Henry Stoddard, who was with the New York Sun.

  On the day after he left office Coolidge revealed he had signed contracts to write articles for three magazines—a series of autobiographical pieces for Cosmopolitan, an installment article on “Promoting Peace” for the Ladies Home Journal, and two articles on the “human interest” side of the presidency for the American Magazine. He received $15,000 for the Ladies Home Journal article and $30,000 for the two American Magazine articles. In addition, the Encyclopedia Americana offered him $25,000 a year and $1 a word for whatever he chose to write. And he apparently received an advance of $65,000 for his autobiography, which he completed in April. The book, published in November, was short, and was fleshed out with two articles published earlier.

  Some complain that his Autobiography is opaque and masks his thoughts, because the book does not delve in much detail into Coolidge’s activities while president. Surprisingly, the narrative section ends after he was elected in his own right in 1924. (Try to imagine a Lyndon Johnson autobiography that concluded with his election in 1964, and had nothing about the other four of his five years in office.) Yet there is more about the man and his philosophy in its mere 247 pages than in presidential memoirs three times as long. This is because it is not really an autobiography, but more by way of being a memoir, in which Coolidge looks back on his life and career and reflects on what it all meant. Moreover, the Autobiography displays a literary grace that is lacking in most such books by former presidents.

  Either Coolidge had devoted a good deal of time to writing during that last year in office or was remarkably industrious and dedicated to his craft after leaving Washington. That kind of production is difficult even for today’s professional freelancers, armed with their computers, while Coolidge composed with pen and ink. In all, Coolidge received more than $110,000 for his writings in 1929.

  The articles were graceful and spare, not particularly revealing, and unmistakably Coolidge. As always, he was businesslike about his work. Rising at 8:00 AM, after breakfast he would have his chauffeur drive him to the office he shared with his old partner, Ralph Hemenway, where his secretary would have sorted his mail. After going through the letters, he would write, and then return home for lunch, after which it was back to the office for more writing.

  Coolidge joined the board of the New York Life Insurance Company, and received $50 for each of the monthly meetings. With Al Smith and Julius Rosenwald, he served as co-administrator of the estate of an inventor, Conrad Hubert, who wished to endow charitable institutions. Smith, who became close to Coolidge during the next few months, told how a representative of one charity said to him during his presentation, “By the way, Governor, you know So-and-So—he’s deeply interested in the home. You know him well—you play poker with him.” Without looking up and with his characteristic dead-pan expression, Coolidge said, “Is that why he needs the money?” Later on he took on the job of president of the American Antiquarian Society, which gave him great pleasure.

  Coolidge didn’t comment on the stock market, which was as mercurial as ever. Prices declined in March, rallied into April, but bottomed out at Dow 291.82 on May 27. Then, in early June it boomed again, rising to 380.33 by August. It peaked at 382.02 during trading on September 5. In less than three-and-a-half months, the market had risen more than 30 percent. What’s more, within less than two years the market had close to doubled.

  Consider what might have gone through the minds of those who sold their stock anywhere along the way, especially during the corrections.

  The crash came the following month. It would take more than twenty-five years for the average to reach that September 5 peak again.

  It later came out that after leaving office Coolidge was on the list of “preferred” J.P. Morgan customers who were able to purchase shares at lower prices than could the general public. But J.P. Morgan was bipartisan in offering this privilege—others included on the roster were Democrats William Gibbs McAdoo and Newton D. Baker. Coolidge never revealed his own financial position before, during, and after the October 1929 crash, but he clearly was not so deeply into the market that he suffered. He must have been fairly secure financially even after the crash, since he traveled extensively in the winter of 1929–1930—to St. Petersburg, Florida; to California, where they met stars like Douglas Fairbanks and Mary Pickford and publisher William Randolph Hearst; and to Arizona to participate in the opening of the Roosevelt Dam.

  Coolidge was busy with his regular schedule when the market collapsed. In his biography, William Allen White imagines him as morose, unhappy, and weary, and probably so, though he never let on to the public. His world was fading, to be sure, and once again deaths had to be faced. Coolidge’s mother-in-law died soon after he left the White House, followed by Guy Currier and Dwight Morrow in 1931. He hadn’t been particularly close to Currier, but Morrow had been his friend since Amherst, and he probably took it quite hard.

  In January 193
0 it was announced that Coolidge would write a history of the United States to be placed on a tablet near the site of the Mount Rushmore National Memorial. Only five hundred words long, the history was “expected to endure for 5,000 centuries.” The story inspired a cartoonist for Liberty magazine to draw a troubled Coolidge, pencil in hand, staring at a page, with the caption: “Calvin Coolidge, commissioned to write the history of the United States in 500 words, feels the pangs of creation as he tried to think up 425 words of padding.” But the project never developed, in part because sculptor Gutson Borglum wanted to edit Coolidge’s words.

  Coolidge continued to be a popular commodity. In the summer of 1930, the United Press approached him about writing a regular column of 1,500 words, for publication in American and foreign newspapers, for which he would be paid $1,000 an article. Doubleday, Doran offered him $50,000 a year for a monthly article in its magazine, World’s Work. And Ralph Pulitzer, publisher of the New York World and the St. Louis Post-Dispatch, offered a minimum of $104,000 for weekly articles on topics of his choosing. Other newspapers made similar offers. Coolidge finally accepted an offer from Ralph Waldo of the McClure Newspaper Syndicate, to write a daily column of 150 to 200 words. Coolidge received $3,000 a week as an advance against sales, plus 60 percent net. The New York outlet was the Herald Tribune, the leading Republican newspaper in the country. Approximately sixty newspapers subscribed for the column, entitled “Calvin Coolidge Says.” His first essay appeared on July 1, 1930, and he wrote the column for a year, earning $203,045. In contrast, his presidential salary had been only $75,000, plus $25,000 for travel, and the use of the White House and the presidential yacht, Mayflower.