factors in the Presidential office, as they are in all other walks of
life. This is not because they are arbitrary or artificial, but because
long experience has demonstrated that they are the best methods of
dealing with human affairs. Things are done in a certain way after many
repetitions show that way causes the least friction and is most likely
to bring the desired result. While there are times when the people might
enjoy the spectacular, in the end they will only be satisfied with
accomplishments. The President gets the best advice he can find, uses
the best judgment at his command, and leaves the event in the hands of
Providence.
Everything that the President does potentially at least is of such great
importance that he must be constantly on guard. This applies not only to
himself, but to everybody about him. Not only in all his official
actions, but in all his social intercourse, and even in his recreation
and repose, he is constantly watched by a multitude of eyes to determine
if there is anything unusual, extraordinary, or irregular, which can be
set down in praise or in blame. Oftentimes trifling incidents, some
insignificant action, an unfortunate phrase in an address, an
injudicious letter, a lack of patience towards some one who presents an
impossible proposition, too much attention to one person, or too little
courtesy towards another, become magnified into the sensation of the
hour. While such events finally sink into their proper place in history
as too small for consideration, if they occur frequently they create an
atmosphere of distraction that might seriously interfere with the
conduct of public business which is really important.
It was my desire to maintain about the White House as far as possible an
attitude of simplicity and not engage in anything that had an air of
pretentious display. That was my conception of the great office. It
carries sufficient power within itself, so that it does not require any
of the outward trappings of pomp and splendor for the purpose of
creating an impression. It has a dignity of its own which makes it
self-sufficient. Of course, there should be proper formality, and
personal relations should be conducted at all times with decorum and
dignity, and in accordance with the best traditions of polite society.
But there is no need of theatricals.
But, however much he may deplore it, the President ceases to be an
ordinary citizen. In order to function at all he has to be surrounded
with many safeguards. If these were removed for only a short time, he
would be overwhelmed by the people who would surge in upon him. In
traveling it would be agreeable to me to use the regular trains which
are open to the public. I have done so once or twice. But I found it
made great difficulty for the railroads. They reported that it was
unsafe, because they could not take the necessary precautions. It
therefore seemed best to run a second section, following a regular
train, for the exclusive use of the President and his party. While the
facilities of a private car have always been offered, I think they have
only been used once, when one was needed for the better comfort of Mrs.
Coolidge during her illness. Although I have not been given to much
travel during my term of office, it has been sufficient, so that I am
convinced the government should own a private car for the use of the
President when he leaves Washington. The pressure on him is so great,
the responsibilities are so heavy, that it is wise public policy in
order to secure his best services to provide him with such ample
facilities that he will be relieved as far as possible from all physical
inconveniences.
It is not generally understood how much detail is involved in any
journey of the President. One or two secret service men must go to the
destination several days in advance. His line of travel and every street
and location which he is to visit are carefully examined. The order of
ceremonies has to be submitted for approval. Oftentimes the local police
are inadequate, so that it is necessary to use some of the military or
naval forces to assist them. Not only his aides and his personal
physician, but also secret service men, some of his office force, and
house servants, have to be in attendance. Quarters must also be provided
for a large retinue of newspaper reporters and camera men who follow him
upon all occasions. Every switch that he goes over is spiked down. Every
freight train that he passes is stopped and every passenger train slowed
down to ten miles per hour. While all of this proceeds smoothly, it
requires careful attention to a great variety of details.
It has never been my practice to speak from rear platforms. The
confusion is so great that few people could hear and it does not seem to
me very dignified. When the President speaks it ought to be an event.
The excuse for such appearances which formerly existed has been
eliminated by the coming of the radio. It is so often that the President
is on the air that almost any one who wishes has ample opportunity to
hear his voice. It has seemed more appropriate for Mrs. Coolidge and me
to appear at the rear of the train where the people could see us. About
the only time that I have spoken was at Bennington in September of 1928,
where I expressed my affection and respect for the people of the state
of Vermont, as I was passing through that town on my way back to
Washington. I found that the love I had for the hills where I was born
touched a responsive chord in the heart of the whole nation.
One of the most appalling trials which confront a President is the
perpetual clamor for public utterances. Invitations are constant and
pressing. They come by wire, by mail, and by delegations. No event of
importance is celebrated anywhere in the United States without inviting
him to come to deliver an oration. When others are enjoying a holiday,
he is expected to make a public appearance in order to entertain and
instruct by a formal address. There are a few public statements that he
does not deliver in person, like proclamations, and messages, which go
to the Congress, either reporting his views on the state of the Union in
his Annual Message or giving his reasons for rejecting legislation in a
veto. These productions vary in length. My Annual Message would be about
twelve thousand words. My speeches would average a little over three
thousand words. In the course of a year the entire number reaches about
twenty, which probably represents an output of at least seventy-five
thousand words.
This kind of work is very exacting. It requires the most laborious and
extended research and study, and the most careful and painstaking
thought. Each word has to be weighed in the realization that it is a
Presidential utterance which will be dissected at home and abroad to
discover its outward meaning and any possible hidden implications.
Before it is finished it is thoroughly examined by one or two of my
staff, and oftentimes by a member of the Cabinet. It is not difficult
for me to deliver an address. The difficulty lies in its preparation.
This is an important part of the work of a President which he can not
escape. It is inherent in the office.
[Illustration: CALVIN COOLIDGE AND HIS FAMILY
_The day he became Governor of Massachusetts_]
A great many presents come to the White House, which are all cherished,
not so much for their intrinsic value as because they are tokens of
esteem and affection. Almost everything that can be eaten comes. We
always know what to do with that. But some of the pets that are offered
us are more of a problem. I have a beautiful black-haired bear that was
brought all the way from Mexico in a truck, and a pair of live lion cubs
now grown up, and a small species of hippopotamus which came from South
Africa. These and other animals and birds have been placed in the
zoological quarters in Rock Creek Park. We always had more dogs than we
could take care of. My favorites were the white collies, which became so
much associated with me that they are enshrined in my bookplate, where
they will live as long as our country endures. One of them, Prudence
Prim, was especially attached to Mrs. Coolidge. We lost her in the Black
Hills. She lies out there in the shadow of Bear Butte where the Indians
told me the Great Spirit came to commune with his children. One was my
companion, Rob Roy. He was a stately gentleman of great courage and
fidelity. He loved to bark from the second-story windows and around the
South Grounds. Nights he remained in my room and afternoons went with me
to the office. His especial delight was to ride with me in the boats
when I went fishing. So although I know he would bark for joy as the
grim boatman ferried him across the dark waters of the Styx, yet his
going left me lonely on the hither shore.
As I left office I realized that the more I had seen of the workings of
the Federal government the more respect I came to have for it. It is
carried on by hundreds of thousands of people. Some prove incompetent. A
very few are tempted to become disloyal to their trust. But the great
rank and file of them are of good ability, conscientious, and faithful
public servants. While some are paid more than they would earn in
private life, there are great throngs who are serving at a distinct
personal sacrifice. Among the higher officials this is almost always
true. The service they perform entitles them to approbation and honor.
The Congress has sometimes been a sore trial to Presidents. I did not
find it so in my case. Among them were men of wonderful ability and
veteran experience. I think they made their decisions with an honest
purpose to serve their country. The membership of the Senate changed
very much by reason of those who sacrificed themselves for public duty.
Of all public officials with whom I have ever been acquainted, the work
of a Senator of the United States is by far the most laborious. About
twenty of them died during the eight years I was in Washington.
Sometimes it would seem for a day that either the House or the Senate
had taken some unwise action, but if it was not corrected on the floor
where it occurred it was usually remedied in the other chamber. I always
found the members of both parties willing to confer with me and disposed
to treat my recommendations fairly. Most of the differences could be
adjusted by personal discussion. Sometimes I made an appeal direct to
the country by stating my position at the newspaper conferences. I
adopted that course in relation to the Mississippi Flood Control Bill.
As it passed the Senate it appeared to be much too extravagant in its
rule of damages and its proposed remedy. The press began a vigorous
discussion of the subject, which caused the House greatly to modify the
bill, and in conference a measure that was entirely fair and moderate
was adopted. On other occasions I appealed to the country more
privately, enlisting the influence of labor and trade organizations upon
the Congress in behalf of some measures in which I was interested. That
was done in the case of the tax bill of 1928. As it passed the House,
the reductions were so large that the revenue necessary to meet the
public expenses would not have been furnished. By quietly making this
known to the Senate, and enlisting support for that position among their
constituents, it was possible to secure such modification of the measure
that it could be adopted without greatly endangering the revenue.
But a President cannot, with success, constantly appeal to the country.
After a time he will get no response. The people have their own affairs
to look after and can not give much attention to what the Congress is
doing. If he takes a position, and stands by it, ultimately it will be
adopted. Most of the policies set out in my first Annual Message have
become law, but it took several years to get action on some of them.
One of the most perplexing and at the same time most important functions
of the President is the making of appointments. In some few cases he
acts alone, but usually they are made with the advice and consent of the
Senate. It is the practice to consult Senators of his own party before
making an appointment from their state. In choosing persons for service
over the whole or any considerable portion of a single state, it is
customary to rely almost entirely on the party Senators from that state
for recommendations. It is not possible to find men who are perfect.
Selection always has to be limited to human beings, whatever choice is
made. It is therefore always possible to point out defects. The
supposition that no one should be appointed who has had experience in
the field which he is to supervise is extremely detrimental to the
public service. An Interstate Commerce Commissioner is much better
qualified, if he knows something about transportation. A Federal Trade
Commissioner can render much better service if he has had a legal
practice which extended into large business transactions. The assertion
of those who contend that persons accepting a government appointment
would betray their trust in favor of former associates can be understood
only on the supposition that those who make it feel that their own
tenure of public office is for the purpose of benefiting themselves and
their friends.
Every one knows that where the treasure is, there will the heart be
also. When a man has invested his personal interest and reputation in
the conduct of a public office, if he goes wrong it will not be because
of former relations, but because he is a bad man. The same interests
that reached him would reach any bad man, irrespective of former life
history. What we need in appointive positions is men of knowledge and
experience who have sufficient character to resist temptations. If that
standard is maintained, we need not be concerned about their former
activities. If it is not maintained, all the restrictions on their past
employment that can be conceived will be of no avail.
The more experience I have had in making appointments, the more I am
convinced that attempts to put limitations on the appointing power are
a mistake. It should be possible to choose a well qualified person
wherever he can be found. When restrictions are placed on residence,
occupation, or profession, it almost always happens that some one is
found who is universally admitted to be the best qualified, but who is
eliminated by the artificial specifications. So long as the Senate has
the power to reject nominations, there is little danger that a President
would abuse his authority if he were given the largest possible freedom
in his choices. The public service would be improved if all vacancies
were filled by simply appointing the best ability and character that can
be found. That is what is done in private business. The adoption of any
other course handicaps the government in all its operations.
In determining upon all his actions, however, the President has to
remember that he is dealing with two different minds. One is the mind of
the country, largely intent upon its own personal affairs, and, while
not greatly interested in the government, yet desirous of seeing it
conducted in an orderly and dignified manner for the advancement of the
public welfare. Those who compose this mind wish to have the country
prosperous and are opposed to unjust taxation and public extravagance.
At the same time they have a patriotic pride which moves them with so
great a desire to see things well done that they are willing to pay for
it. They gladly contribute their money to place the United States in the
lead. In general, they represent the public opinion of the land.
But they are unorganized, formless, and inarticulate. Against a compact
and well drilled minority they do not appear to be very effective. They
are nevertheless the great power in our government. I have constantly
appealed to them and have seldom failed in enlisting their support. They
are the court of last resort and their decisions are final.
They are, however, the indirect rather than the direct power. The
immediate authority with which the President has to deal is vested in
the political mind. In order to get things done he has to work through
that agency. Some of our Presidents have appeared to lack comprehension
of the political mind. Although I have been associated with it for many
years, I always found difficulty in understanding it. It is a strange
mixture of vanity and timidity, of an obsequious attitude at one time
and a delusion of grandeur at another time, of the most selfish
preferment combined with the most sacrificing patriotism. The political
mind is the product of men in public life who have been twice spoiled.
They have been spoiled with praise and they have been spoiled with
abuse. With them nothing is natural, everything is artificial. A few
rare souls escape these influences and maintain a vision and a judgment
that are unimpaired. They are a great comfort to every President and a
great service to their country. But they are not sufficient in number so
that the public business can be transacted like a private business.
It is because in their hours of timidity the Congress becomes
subservient to the importunities of organized minorities that the
President comes more and more to stand as the champion of the rights of
the whole country. Organizing such minorities has come to be a
well-recognized industry at Washington. They are oftentimes led by
persons of great ability, who display much skill in bringing their
influences to bear on the Congress. They have ways of securing
newspaper publicity, deluging Senators and Representatives with
petitions and overwhelming them with imprecations that are oftentimes
decisive in securing the passage of bills. While much of this
legislation is not entirely bad, almost all of it is excessively
expensive. If it were not for the rules of the House and the veto power
of the President, within two years these activities would double the
cost of the government.
Under our system the President is not only the head of the government,
but is also the head of his party. The last twenty years have witnessed
a decline in party spirit and a distinct weakening in party loyalty.
While an independent attitude on the part of the citizen is not without
a certain public advantage, yet it is necessary under our form of
government to have political parties. Unless some one is a partisan, no
one can be an independent. The Congress is organized entirely in
accordance with party policy. The parties appeal to the voters in behalf
of their platforms. The people make their choice on those issues. Unless
those who are elected on the same party platform associate themselves
together to carry out its provisions, the election becomes a mockery.
The independent voter who has joined with others in placing a party
nominee in office finds his efforts were all in vain, if the person he
helps elect refuses or neglects to keep the platform pledges of his
party.
Many occasions arise in the Congress when party lines are very properly
disregarded, but if there is to be a reasonable government proceeding in
accordance with the express mandate of the people, and not merely at the
whim of those who happen to be victorious at the polls, on all the
larger and important issues there must be party solidarity. It is the
business of the President as party leader to do the best he can to see
that the declared party platform purposes are translated into
legislative and administrative action. Oftentimes I secured support from
those without my party and had opposition from those within my party, in
attempting to keep my platform pledges.
Such a condition is entirely anomalous. It leaves the President as the
sole repository of party responsibility. But it is one of the reasons
that the Presidential office has grown in popular estimation and favor,
while the Congress has declined. The country feels that the President is
willing to assume responsibility, while his party in the Congress is
not. I have never felt it was my duty to attempt to coerce Senators or
Representatives, or to take reprisals. The people sent them to
Washington. I felt I had discharged my duty when I had done the best I
could with them. In this way I avoided almost entirely a personal
opposition, which I think was of more value to the country than to
attempt to prevail through arousing personal fear.
Under our system it ought to be remembered that the power to initiate
policies has to be centralized somewhere. Unless the party leaders
exercising it can depend on loyalty and organization support, the party
in which it is reposed will become entirely ineffective. A party which
is ineffective will soon be discarded. If a party is to endure as a
serviceable instrument of government for the country, it must possess
and display a healthy spirit of party loyalty. Such a manifestation in
the Congress would do more than anything else to rehabilitate it in the
esteem and confidence of the country.
It is natural for man to seek power. It was because of this trait of
human nature that the founders of our institutions provided a system of
checks and balances. They placed all their public officers under
constitutional limitations. They had little fear of the courts and were
inclined to regard legislative bodies as the natural champions of their
liberties. They were very apprehensive that the executive might seek to
exercise arbitrary powers. Under our Constitution such fears seldom have
been well founded. The President has tended to become the champion of
the people because he is held solely responsible for his acts, while in
the Congress where responsibility is divided it has developed that there
is much greater danger of arbitrary action.
It has therefore become increasingly imperative that the President
should resist any encroachment upon his constitutional powers. One of
the most important of these is the power of appointment. The
Constitution provides that he shall nominate, and by and with the advice
and consent of the Senate appoint. A constant pressure is exerted by the
Senators to make their own nominations and the Congress is constantly
proposing laws which undertake to deprive the President of the
appointive power. Different departments and bureaus are frequently
supporting measures that would make them self-perpetuating bodies to
which no appointments could be made that they did not originate. While I
have always sought cooperation and advice, I have likewise resisted
these efforts, sometimes by refusing to adopt recommendations and
sometimes by the exercise of the veto power. One of the farm relief
bills, and later a public health measure, had these clearly
unconstitutional limitations on the power of appointment. In the defense
of the rights and liberties of the people it is necessary for the
President to resist all encroachments upon his lawful authority.
All of these trials and encouragements come to each President. It is
impossible to explain them. Even after passing through the Presidential
office, it still remains a great mystery. Why one person is selected for
it and many others are rejected can not be told. Why people respond as
they do to its influence seems to be beyond inquiry. Any man who has
been placed in the White House can not feel that it is the result of
his own exertions or his own merit. Some power outside and beyond him
becomes manifest through him. As he contemplates the workings of his
office, he comes to realize with an increasing sense of humility that he
is but an instrument in the hands of God.
WHY I DID NOT CHOOSE TO RUN
_CHAPTER SEVEN_
WHY I DID NOT CHOOSE TO RUN
Perhaps I have already indicated some of the reasons why I did not
desire to be a candidate to succeed myself.
The Presidential office takes a heavy toll of those who occupy it and
those who are dear to them. While we should not refuse to spend and be
spent in the service of our country, it is hazardous to attempt what we
feel is beyond our strength to accomplish.