In the wee hours of the morning on Aug. 3, 1923, the light from an oil lamp flickered in the parlor of a Vermont farmhouse as a father swore in his son to become the 30th president of the United States.
Three thousand miles away in San Francisco, Warren G. Harding lay dead while Calvin Coolidge took the presidential oath of office. For the sixth time since 1789, a vice president assumed the position of commander in chief in one of the most unusual presidential inaugurations in American history.
Silent Cal’s path to that notable pre-dawn ceremony 100 years ago was a result of hard work, an innate political instinct and a strong moral character.
John Calvin Coolidge was born on July 4, 1872, in the small village of Plymouth Notch hidden in the Green Mountains of Vermont. His father was a successful farmer, businessman and politician — a role model for the future president.
After local schooling, Coolidge entered Amherst College. A 1923 newspaper commentary notes that “Cal was known for two things — his scholastic ability and his prolonged silence. He was then a raw country youth with his trousers tucked in his boot-tops.” His college experience was vital to his “intellectual, personal and career development,” according to Jerry Wallace in an article for the Coolidge Foundation.
Returning to his homestead after graduation, he worked on his father’s farm for a summer before studying law in an apprenticeship with two Northampton, Massachusetts, attorneys. After being admitted to the bar at age 25, he opened his own legal practice nearby.
Some years later, he married teacher Grace Goodhue. A story about his courtship relates: When visiting in her hometown of Burlington, he told a friend, “Just came over to be married to Grace.” The acquaintance responded, “Have you spoken to Grace yet?” Coolidge replied, “No, but I think I will in a few days.”
For Coolidge, politics was a birth right. His father was first elected to the Vermont Legislature a month after his son was born. As a youngster, he often visited his Dad at the Capitol in Montpelier.
While living in Northampton, Coolidge began his steady ascent up the political ladder of Massachusetts’ Republican Party. Although his reserved personality was out of character for most office holders, his meticulousness, industry and objectivity won acclaim. Over the years, excluding primaries, he ran for office 17 times, “putting himself before the people’s judgment more than any of our other presidents,” according to author Wallace.
As governor, he gained the national spotlight during the Boston police strike in 1919. When rioting occurred, Coolidge ordered the National Guard to quell the disturbance. “There is no right to strike against the public safety by anyone, anywhere, anytime,” he declared. This “law and order” assertion made him a popular figure; it contributed to him being selected as the running mate for Warren G. Harding in 1920.
Except for presiding over the Senate, Coolidge had little to do as vice president. While in Washington, he and his wife lived in a hotel and frequently ate out. “When asked why they attended so many social functions, Coolidge replied, ‘Got to eat somewhere,’” according to William Bushong of the White House Historical Association.
In the summer of 1923, the Coolidges traveled to Plymouth Notch for a vacation. In an eyewitness account of the memorable events that followed, Congressman Porter Dale in “Vermont History” wrote: “When word of Warren Harding’s death reached the small hamlet on August second, it was clear that Coolidge’s summer plans, and indeed his political future, would be irrevocably transformed.”
The vice president was aroused from his sleep to read the telegram that set the stage for an unconventional presidential inauguration. In a calm steady manner, Coolidge orchestrated the appropriate steps for the transition. A cable was sent to the chief justice in Washington to query whether his father as a notary public had the authority to administer the presidential oath.
Coolidge then walked to the general store that had the only telephone in the village to await word from the chief justice. The unpretentious soon-to-be commander in chief drank a Moxie soda as he mingled with old friends, newsmen and a few officials. According to Charles Wilson in “American Heritage,” when no communication was forth coming, Coolidge curtly exclaimed, “Figure we’d best get back to father.” The store’s clerk said she would bring over any messages that might arrive.
Careful to the legal details, Coolidge instructed his secretary to type three copies of the presidential oath and to be certain to obtain the signatures of the ceremony’s witnesses. After midnight on Aug. 3, a dispatch finally arrived from former President William Howard Taft and chief justice of the Supreme Court. It read: “Procedure legal. Best wishes. Taft.”
With the parlor lamp shining light, Coolidge placed his left hand on the family Bible and raised his right hand as his father read the affirmation that his son then firmly repeated, including, “So help me God.” No one spoke. The elder Coolidge removed the notary public seal impresser from his desk and firmly applied it to the papers containing the oath and signatures of the four witnesses.
“Grace Coolidge was trembling, the father’s eyes were noticeably moist, and the new president was grimly silent,” author Wilson remarked. “Congressman Dale boomed ‘it is exactly two forty-seven.’”
In concluding his firsthand narrative, Dale wrote: “It was finished. A scene the like of which you may not find in all history. In the mountain notch shrouded by the ancestral influence of generations … a venerable father had sworn his son by the oath which made him chief executive of the greatest nation of the world.”
Jonathan Stolz is a resident of James City County.
