By Rich Szlosek
One of my favorite TV comics in the 1950s was George Gobel. He would conclude his program by saying, “This is ole lonesome George, saying good night.”
I thought of Gobel as I wrote my last Hampshire Life column (“Rebranding Northampton,” July 15). It was, in part, about the 30th president of the United States, Northampton’s own, Calvin Coolidge.
Writing that piece made me feel a bit like “ol’ lonesome Rich.” There must be other folks out there who care about Coolidge’s legacy, especially as he was a Northampton resident and mayor of the city before heading off, first to the State House in Boston and, then, to the White House. They may be out there, but with a few exceptions, I certainly don’t hear from them.
For some reason, the ghost of “Silent Cal” has often been at the far fringes of my life. When I was 7, I was at a gathering of my mother’s family in Hatfield. I was shy and not loquacious. My most extroverted aunt was teasing me and commented, “You sure are quiet today.” One of my uncles then said, “There’s another person from Northampton who never said much,” and proceeded to tell me about Calvin Coolidge. It was the first time I recall hearing the name.
Over the ensuing years I met folks who had known the former president. They told me stories about him (mainly dealing with how tight he could squeeze a dollar).
I once saw then-former first lady Grace Coolidge shopping on Main Street in Northampton and was impressed by the respect people gave her.
When I applied to be a student at Amherst College, I had an interview in Coolidge’s home on Massasoit Street in Northampton with an alumnus who was actually living there. When I got to the college, I heard a few legendary tales about Coolidge as an undergraduate, but there were no monuments honoring him on campus.
My impression was that Amherst would gladly have disavowed the fact Coolidge had ever graduated from the school. I was an American studies major and the few times he was ever mentioned were in a very negative fashion. His conservative politics and pithy comments such as “the business of America is business” did not fit the liberal tenor of the college in the ’50s and ’60s. (That attitude may have changed somewhat as I recently saw a portrait of him hanging in Johnson Chapel which I don’t remember being there.)
I admit, at the time I accepted the prevalent image of Coolidge as silent, parsimonious and not very bright; someone to be made fun of as seen in stories like Sinclair Lewis’ “The Man Who Knew Coolidge.”
I retired a few years ago and did some reading about Coolidge in a course on the 1920s I led for the Five College Learning in Retirement program. What I saw did not jibe at all with that popular image.
For a man who was supposed to have been so silent, he delivered monthly radio reports and held 520 press conferences in the 67 months he was president. He even made a “talking film” of one of his speeches. Indeed, more people heard his voice than that of all the previous presidents combined.
He loved being photographed and willingly met with people of various political persuasions at the White House. I found it remarkable that in a dozen years he went from the mayor’s office in Northampton to the presidency of the United States.
What is often forgotten is that his ascendancy was the result of a political rebellion by rank-and-file Republicans in 1920. The convention that year was in a stalemate as a dozen candidates, including Coolidge, had been placed in nomination. The bosses got together and decided Warren Harding, “the best of the second-raters,” would get the nomination. The same group chose Senator Irvine Lenroot of Wisconsin to be vice president.
The delegates were angry about the brokered convention and, after Lenroot’s name had been put forth, a delegate from Oregon placed Coolidge’s name into nomination from the floor. The convention exploded in support of the move.
Lenroot was swept into the dustbin of history and, ironically, Coolidge, a laconic traditional politician, was suddenly the rebellious choice of the Republican base.
It will soon be 100 years since that convention. Shouldn’t we be making some plans to note the occasion? This is a man who took over a nation that was reeling from the scandals of the Harding administration and struggling to figure out its new role as a world power. His integrity and financial probity inspired confidence, while his low-key demeanor was ideal for those turbulent times.
Northampton can lay claim to but one president, and likely won’t have another, at least not in the near future. I’d like to give him the belated honor he deserves.
Rich Szlosek can be reached at richszlo@crocker.com.