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By Root 1819 0

morning, the first order of business in the president’s office was sorting the mail. This was the duty of Dan Lamont, Cleveland’s indispensable private secretary, who usually selected eight or ten letters worthy of the president’s personal attention. The rest of the correspondence was distributed to the various branches of government. Letters from cranks and strange characters were placed in a file informally marked “eccentric.” Once the morning mail was dealt with, Cleveland was ready to receive callers. In those days, formal appointments to see the president were not necessary. A distinguished gentleman with the right pedigree could present his card to the White House doorkeeper, who would take it to Lamont. No one got to see the president without Lamont’s say-so. Almost every day, Cleveland made sure to check in with Rose to see how she was doing. Weather permitting, at 5:00 p.m., Cleveland would climb aboard the White House coupe, almost always with Lamont at his side, for a drive around Washington to get to know the capital. Sometimes the tour would last ninety minutes.

Dinner was always served at seven, followed by a mild cigar, usually his favorite brand, Reina Victoria, sometimes a Maduro. In those early days, Cleveland found the food indigestible and came to detest the French-born chef, Alexander Fortin, who had run the kitchen since the Garfield administration. Cleveland scornfully referred to Fortin as “that man who cooks,” and longing for those unfussy meals in Buffalo—“pickled herring, Swiss cheese and a chop”—he finally fired him. He then brought in Eliza, his cook from the governor’s mansion in Albany, and she was able to keep the husky president content with her basic steak-and-potatoes fare.

By 8:00 p.m., Cleveland could be found back at his desk in the library, reading through mounds of paperwork that would keep him occupied until midnight, when he retired. A single telephone number serviced the entire mansion, and after hours, when all the clerks had gone home, it was not unusual for President Cleveland to answer the phone himself.

Frances’s presence in the White House seemed to be softening Cleveland’s hard-edged personality; for the first time in his political life, he came to enjoy the ceremonial functions of office—to a point. He was working in the library one Monday morning when he looked out his window and saw hundreds of children, accompanied by their mothers and nurses, gathered on the White House lawn for the traditional Easter egg roll. The spectacle lifted his spirits, and he instructed the ushers to collect all the children who were interested in meeting the president and bring them to the East Room. When Cleveland strode in, accompanied by Frances, Emma, and Rose, his attention was drawn to the littlest boy there, whose outstretched hand held a brilliantly colored egg that he was offering to the president. He wanted Mr. Cleveland to have it, he said, because he had “plenty more in the box,” and Cleveland patted the boy on the head.

Alas, Frances’s Washington fairy tale was coming to an end. Cleveland tried to talk her into extending her stay, but she had the good sense to insist that she had to return to Wells College and complete her senior year. Frances and Emma had stayed at the White House for eleven days, and on April 8, they stretched out their final hours—neither wanting to leave this fantasy-land—until they bid their farewells to President Cleveland and, in a driving rainstorm, boarded the last train back to New York.

Rose had cancelled all her appointments for that day and refused to receive any callers so that she could spend the Folsoms’ last day in Washington with them. Her brother had let her in on a state secret—that he had made an “arrangement” with Frances and would ask for her hand in marriage. Rose had seen it coming for at least a year, and having found Frances to be a promising young lady, “capable of great development,” she approved of the match despite the twenty-seven-year disparity in age. No one, Rose came to realize, should underestimate Frances. Underneath that