Theodore Rex - Edmund Morris [331]
OBSERVERS WERE STRUCK by Roosevelt’s immobile concentration as his successor was sworn in. Those who did not know him thought that the stony expression and balled-up fists signaled trouble ahead for Taft. His sister Bamie, describing the scene to Corinne Roosevelt Robinson afterward, got only “the most wonderful feeling of dignity and strength, and people who had really not cared for him suddenly realized what a great man he was.” In fact, he was making a special effort not to distract attention from the new President of the United States. An occasional curt nod indicated his approval of points made in Taft’s subsequent speech.
Roosevelt’s fabled vigor was apparent only at the end, when he bounded out of his seat and ran up the steps of the rostrum to shake Taft by the hand. The two men embraced briefly, then stood talking, their hands on each other’s shoulders.
“There was not a dry eye in the place,” Bamie wrote, “and everyone’s throat contracted; as he said good-bye before anyone realized what was happening he went down the steps from the speakers desk and bowing and smiling went out of the little side door.… It was the simplest most dramatic exit imaginable & left the whole packed Senate with a tremor going through it.”
THE SNOW HAD stopped falling during the ceremony, and Roosevelt found a large, boisterous crowd of well-wishers waiting for him when he emerged onto the plaza outside. Mounted police tried to hold them back as they surged and roared, “Good-bye, Mr. President!” It was no longer his title, but they were clearly unwilling to give it to another.
William Loeb, Jr., was on hand (as so often before, starting at North Creek in the Adirondacks!) to escort Roosevelt to his train. A drab honor guard of about a thousand New York County Republicans formed a rectangle about the carriage and led the way toward Union Station, to thumping band music, while the crowd followed. The general mood was festive, but when the band segued into “Auld Lang Syne,” a sudden valedictory pall descended. Thousands of voices swelled the chorus, and the mass of marchers began to sway to the tune’s slow rhythm.
For auld lang syne, my dear,
For auld lang syne …
Roosevelt, who had been laughing and brandishing his silk hat, lapsed into quietness. Loeb furtively watched him, afraid he might break down. But by the time they arrived at the station, the band had switched to “There’ll Be a Hot Time in the Old Town Tonight,” and Roosevelt was as jovial as ever.
“Good-bye to you all,” he shouted in his high, cracking voice, and leaped out of the carriage the moment it rolled to a halt. Before the crowd could close around him, he had disappeared.
EDITH ROOSEVELT RECEIVED him in the new terminal’s magnificent President’s Room, as yet—and still—unused by any Chief Executive of the United States. Quentin was with her, looking triumphant, because he had managed to sneak into the Capitol without a pass. He and “Taffy” had watched the Inauguration together, squeezed into one seat in the Taft family row.
A special train was waiting, but ice delayed its departure for two wearying hours. Roosevelt was forced to hold an impromptu reception as hundreds of Washington friends and diplomats, including a tearful Jules Jusserand, came to wish him well and—over and over again—“good hunting.” Just as frequently, he assured everyone who would listen that he had had “a bully time” as President, but was happy to lay down the burden of office.
Shortly after three o’clock, the railway north was cleared, and Roosevelt passed with his wife and son through a crowd that had swelled to several thousand. The vast station hall reverberated with roars as he waved, flashed his teeth and pince-nez, and disappeared down the platform. At 3:26 on the station register, Theodore Roosevelt officially departed Washington, D.C.
THE STORM HAD abated, but with wires down and only hand signals operating for the next thirty miles, the