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A Secret Life_ The Lies and Scandals of President Grover Cleveland - Charles Lachman [138]

By Root 1808 0
take her to the same location—the Fifth Avenue Hotel on 23rd Street. She was shown to a second-floor room where she joined the wives of several of Cleveland’s cabinet officers who had come to New York to observe the parade. Frances wore a becoming grey suit tailored very high to the neck. In her hands, she held the bouquet of flowers Cleveland had sent her. The wives made way for her, and she positioned herself on the window ledge that afforded the best view of the marching soldiers. As she looked down at a sea of high hats and waving handkerchiefs, right below her she could make out the portly figure of President Cleveland. Next to him on the grandstand were the men he held in the highest esteem: Dan Lamont, Secretary Whitney, the secretary of the interior, the postmaster general—and Horatio King, his political ally whose defamation of Maria Halpin during the presidential campaign of 1884 had done so much to sully her good name and rescue the Cleveland candidacy from defeat. A coincidence that did not escape Cleveland’s attention was that the Fifth Avenue Hotel where he now stood was the scene of the infamous “Rum, Romanism, and Rebellion” misstep that had wrecked Blaine’s candidacy in its final days and helped ensure Cleveland’s victory.

As the veterans of the Civil War marched by, the president doffed his hat when each regiment passed before him, dipping its colors. Cleveland kept his right hand in the breast of his coat as Frances heartily applauded with gloved hands. Everyone seemed to be watching her. It was quite a spectacle—commemoration of the fallen giving way to admiration of the fine figure of Frances Folsom, perched on that second-floor window ledge.

“Long live President Cleveland and his bride!” toasted the crowd. Three loud hip-hip hoorays were offered to “our bridegroom president.” When the Twenty-second Regiment passed, the band ceased their marching music and broke into Mendelssohn’s “Wedding March.” Cleveland glowed with a “warmth” he had never felt before in public. In all, with the various parades, on this day alone the president would be seen by a half million people.

Frances did not move from her place on the ledge for a moment, and only after the entire procession had passed by did the president look up. Frances acknowledged him with a coquettish little wave of her dainty handkerchief and he, in turn, doffed his hat to her. That fleeting encounter was the first time they had seen each other in fourteen months. Modesty required that they not be seen together in public. Cleveland was careful to observe all the proprieties of Victorian courtship; his engagement to his former ward was already fraught with worry, and the slightest breach in etiquette now could lead to embarrassing questions. Later that day, at 3:30 p.m., Cleveland met his betrothed face-to-face at Gilsey House, where they could greet each other with a warm embrace. That evening, they dined with Emma Folsom, Ben Folsom, and the Lamonts.

The matter of the honeymoon had been put on the back burner, but now Frances showed Cleveland a letter she had received that day from Jennie Davis, the daughter of the former U.S. senator from West Virginia who had befriended her in Italy. Jennie had written to remind Frances of her promise to honeymoon in Deer Park, Maryland, should she ever marry President Cleveland. That was good enough for Cleveland. Deer Park it would be. It just so happened that the trout fishing in Deer Creek was excellent.

At eleven o’clock, Cleveland took his leave. He had a train to catch back to Washington. He was getting married in just fourteen hours.

The next morning, Frances did not get up until ten. She had a late breakfast with her mother in a private parlor at the Gilsey House and caught up with her correspondence. When it was time to leave for Washington, the full concierge services of the hotel were put at her disposal. Eleven Saratoga trunks stenciled with the name Folsom were piled onto a wagon for the trip while the other trunks were sent off to 394 Main Street in Buffalo where her mother lived. There were so

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