Taft 2012 - Jason Heller [17]
“Oh, don’t fret. People don’t pay much attention to history anymore.” She glanced past Taft, and her eyes narrowed. “Except for Waldemann over there. Bill … is that your fan club?”
Taft looked over his shoulder. Waldemann had approached the Secret Service agents and appeared to be suspiciously interrogating them. In his hand, the deli owner held the framed photo of Taft and Butt that had been on the wall, presumably undisturbed, for over a hundred years. A rectangle of brighter paint marked the spot where it had hung.
With his other hand, Waldemann was pointing at him.
Dee Dee nudged Taft’s glass of egg cream. “I think you’ve been made, Bill. Better drink up.” She stood up and gathered her coat and purse. He could have sworn she winked at him. “Sorry our little chat had to get cut short. Maybe I’ll run into you for lunch some day. If they ever let you out again.”
KCMO Talk Radio 710
The following message is paid for by Kansas City Leaders for Responsible Development.
Three years into the worst American economy since the Great Depression, we don’t need government inventing more and more taxes to weigh down hardworking small-business owners. But the elitists on the Kansas City Council just don’t understand. They think you can afford to pay higher taxes every year, even though you’re making less. The small-business tax rate this year is already as high as 39 percent. It’s enough to make you wish for the days of William Howard Taft. After all, when Taft was president, businesses paid only 1 percent. Tell you what, City Council—next year, why don’t you try thinking a little more like Taft?
From Taft: A Tremendous Man, by Susan Weschler:
During the course of America’s existence every type of man has been president: schemers, brutes, drunkards, braggarts—even a few good men. But there was one thing they all shared: the burning ambition to be president.
But not Taft. Of all the U.S. presidents who followed George Washington, only Taft never aspired to the office. He’d always felt his true calling was on the Supreme Court, an honor he was painfully forced to bestow on others while he served as president. Afterward, he’d retreat to his own office and count the minutes until his four-year term was up. Some historians wondered: Was it selfish to be a reluctant president? Shouldn’t he have resigned if he’d hated it so much? In a word: no. Because Taft had people depending on him, and no matter what he might wish for himself, he would never let them down. People like his wife, Nellie, and his friend Roosevelt, both of whom did have selfish motives for pushing and pulling Taft into office. Nellie had always dreamed of being first lady, and Roosevelt wanted a successor who’d honor him, who’d continue his policies without ever outshining him.
Power corrupts, goes the aphorism. But Taft tasted power—tremendous power—and instead of being seduced by it, he was repulsed by it.
What kind of character does such a man possess? This question consumed me when I began studying history in earnest. And the more I learned about him, the more I wished I’d had the chance to meet this man. Just once. Just to say, The country may not have appreciated you. History may not have vindicated you. And since you disappeared on your first day as a free man, you never had the chance to prove them wrong, to find your true calling, to find happiness. But I understand you. I admire you. I know how you feel—because I feel the same way.
And then, of course, the impossible happened, and I did meet him. His portraits didn’t do him justice. Sturdy, solid, protective without being patronizing, manly without being boorish. And with that distinguished mustache—the last mustache a U.S. president would ever wear. I sometimes suspect Taft was the reason later presidents stopped wearing facial hair. Anything to set themselves apart from the president