A Secret Life_ The Lies and Scandals of President Grover Cleveland - Charles Lachman [102]
“As a candidate for the presidency, I knew that I should encounter many forms of calumny and personal defamation, but I confess that I did not expect to be called upon to defend the name of a beloved and honored wife, who is a mother and a grandmother, nor did I expect that the grave of my little child would be cruelly desecrated.”
Even after Blaine filed a libel suit against the Sentinel, Shoemaker kept up the attacks. He distributed an eight-page supplement that detailed the history of the Blaine marriage; he also published a slimy attack on Blaine’s practice of warmly embracing supporters at campaign stops. Blaine, said Shoemaker, was guilty of “man-kissing.”
Now, if ladies were voters, and it were ladies he practiced his osculatory art upon, we should not object—i.e., if the ladies did not. But this thing of his kissing men—of pressing his bearded lips upon bearded lips—is too aggressive. Last week, over in Ohio, Mr. Blaine kissed a man who boarded his train. No longer than last night he kissed two men in this city.
Not for nothing is the presidential election of 1884 called the dirtiest in American history.
On board the morning riverboat that pulled into Albany harbor were the most eminent leaders of the Democratic Party from all thirty-eight states and the Territory of Washington. They were there to officially notify Grover Cleveland that he had been nominated the party’s candidate for the presidency. At three in the afternoon, in a drizzling rain, the men, in squads of four, climbed aboard twenty-five carriages and, with the Tenth Regiment band at the head of the procession, made their way through the capital’s streets to the governor’s mansion on Eagle Street. There they where shown into the drawing room and formed themselves into a semicircle to await Cleveland’s appearance. On the other side of the room, enjoying this day of high honor, were Cleveland’s top aides, and the women of his household: Cleveland’s sisters, Mary Hoyt and Rose Cleveland; his two nieces from Ceylon, Mary and Carrie Hastings; and Emma Folsom and her daughter Frances. Daniel Manning was also there, and Wilson Bissell and Dan Lamont. Other than an immense bank of roses, carnations, and geraniums that had been grown in the governor’s greenhouse, the room was empty of all furniture or ornamentation.
Cleveland descended the staircase and strode into the room to generous applause. For the occasion, he wore a new suit of black broadcloth, with a high collar and black tie. The formal certificate of notification was presented to him in a handsomely embossed portfolio bound in Russian leather. Cleveland thanked everyone and pledged to campaign on a platform of simple truths. It marked the official launch of the fall campaign season. Prolonged applause followed, and the crowd of dignitaries surged forward to shake hands with the candidate.
Frances Folsom was the prettiest young lady in the room, but none of the unmarried men on the governor’s staff who attended the ceremony dared approach her. Bissell was quite amused.
“If one of you, young fellows, doesn’t take an interest in Ms. Folsom, the governor is likely to walk off with her himself!” Everyone laughed.
Eleven days later, around the time that Maria Halpin disappeared from her home in New Rochelle, Cleveland started out for the north woods of New York State. In this time of crisis, he was going on a two-week vacation. Accompanying him was Dr. Samuel B. Ward, an Albany physician. On August 9, Cleveland and his party took a buckboard carriage