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By Root 1811 0

many hatboxes, it was difficult to gather them all. Deluxe accommodations welcomed them at every step. The president of the railroad had made available his personal drawing-room car, now hitched to the rear of a four-car train. Not taking any chances, the railroad’s most dependable engineer was put at the controls. The train lumbered out of the station at nine twenty that night, and at five twenty the next morning, Frances, Emma, and Ben (wearing a foppish white derby) were in Washington. Lamont was there to greet them and escorted them all to the White House where, in a gentle rain, Frances bounded up the steps and crossed the grand threshold of the presidential mansion like a “radiant vision of young springtime.” She was shown to the south room where she dressed for her wedding before Dolly Madison’s mirror.

Cleveland was still focusing on every detail of the ceremony. He had personally written out the invitations: “I am to be married Wednesday evening at seven o’clock at the White House to Miss Folsom. It will be a very quiet affair and I will be extremely gratified at your attendance on the occasion.” Lamont was a big help. Working with the conductor of the Marine Band, John Philip Souza, he timed out the exact number of steps Frances would have to take down the staircase to reach the correct position in the Blue Room at the climax of the “Wedding March.” Sousa, the great composer of “Stars and Stripes Forever,” was also ordered to submit his musical selections for the president’s approval. When Cleveland saw that the title of one number was the quartet, “The Student of Love,” a Sousa standard, he flinched and ordered Sousa to make a change. “Tell Sousa he can play that quartet, but he had better omit the name of it,” he told Lamont, concerned that the spicy title might fan any lurking flames of derision. Rather than censure his own work, Sousa decided to simply omit “The Student of Love” from the evening’s performance.

The time for the wedding was now at hand, and in her last hours as First Lady, Rose was to receive every guest as they made their way into the Blue Room. Cleveland’s brother William and his sister Mary were also there, and from Buffalo, just two old friends had been invited, Wilson Bissell and the lawyer Sherman S. Rogers. All the members of the cabinet came with their spouses, with the exception of the curmudgeonly attorney general, Augustus Hill Garland, who detested all social functions and refused to attend any gathering that required him to wear a dress suit. Ben Folsom was there of course, and Dan Lamont and his wife. Rose had invited a Miss Nelson who, now that Annie Van Vechten was out of the picture, was the First Lady’s steady companion. In all, there were just twenty-eight guests.

At seven fifteen, a hush fell over the gathering. Sousa lifted his baton, and the scarlet-and-gold bedecked members of the Marine Band launched into the “Wedding March.” With Frances, President Cleveland came down the staircase—not only the groom but also the father figure giving the bride away. He wore a fitted black broadcloth suit. A low-cut vest displayed a wide expanse of dress shirt closed by three flat white studs. His shoes were patent leather. On his left hand he wore a white kid glove, so-called because it was made from young goat leather. In his right hand he held the other glove. There was no best man or maid of honor.

Sousa kept his eye on the couple, and when Cleveland and Frances reached the center of the Blue Room, the Reverend Byron Sunderland stepped forward to greet them. The president nodded, and at the signal Sousa directed the band to cease playing. There was a moment of silent prayer, then Sunderland, speaking resolutely, said, “If you desire to be united in marriage, you will signify the same by joining your right hands.” With his ungloved hand, Cleveland took his bride’s pretty little hand in his own.

“Grover, do you take this woman whom you hold by the hand to be your lawful wedded wife, to live together after God’s ordinance in the holy estate of wedlock? Do you promise to love her,