The Not Ready for Prime Time Presidents

Let’s give a big shout-out to Presidents’ Day. If you are like me, it’s hard to contain your enthusiasm as we celebrate our 45 commanders in chief. I get goose bumps just thinking of Millard Fillmore, don’t you? 

The federal holiday is officially designated as George Washington’s birthday (actually February 22), but in his trademark modesty, our first president is now sharing his acclaim with a band of brothers who rarely excite even their mothers’ pride. Sure, Lincoln and the Roosevelts shine, but the bulbs dim considerably thereafter.

Virginia produced every president in the first six not named Adams, and holds the record with eight men who achieved the office—though the last was over a century ago (Wilson). Ohio is right behind with seven, but their pedigree doesn’t quite match the Old Dominion’s. You won’t find Garfield or Grant beside Washington and Jefferson on Mount Rushmore.

Poor Pennsylvania. The Keystone State contributed only one president, and he is generally regarded as the least talented. In 2016, Robert Strauss wrote a whole book about James Buchanan titled Worst. President. Ever. He is the only chief executive who never married, a detail that may bring a small smile to some readers. 

Joining Buchanan at the bottom of most historians’ rankings are Franklin Pierce and Andrew Johnson. With Lincoln always coming in at number one or two, it’s interesting that these presidents immediately preceded and succeeded him. These Three Stooges did precious little to avert the Civil War and botched the aftermath. I can almost hear them at the presidential reunions: “Soitenly,” “Nyuk-nyuk-nyuk-nyuk.”

After Andrew Jackson left the White House in 1836, most of the 19^th-century presidents were more footnote than primary text material. That didn’t mean that they were without personal peculiarities. 

Martin Van Buren grew up in the Dutch enclave of Kinderhook, N.Y., and he spoke English as a second language. James Polk was a hardworking president who, besides being commander in chief during the Mexican-American War, personally answered nearly every letter sent to him. He promised to serve only one term—a wise decision, as he died 103 days after leaving office at age 53.

If you want scandal, look no further than Grover Cleveland, the only president before Trump to serve nonconsecutive terms and the only Democrat to hold office between 1861 and 1913. Cleveland knew his law partner’s daughter, Frances Folsom, from her infancy. When her father died, Cleveland became the executor of his estate and remained close to the family—very close, indeed. By the time he became president, 49-year-old Cleveland married the 21-year-old Frances in the only presidential wedding ever held at the White House. He also took responsibility for fathering a child out of wedlock before becoming president. Apparently, Cleveland was a very “hands-on” operator.

General Zachary Taylor never cast a ballot in a single election, even the one that elected him in 1848. He believed that a career soldier must always remain politically neutral. At a July 4^th celebration during his second year in office, Taylor ate a large bowl of strawberries and cream, became violently ill within a few hours, and then died five days later. Conspiracy theories of arsenic poisoning surfaced almost immediately and persisted until his body was exhumed in 1991, but alas, poison-free.

Speaking of leaving office early, that has happened to one-fifth of our presidents—four were assassinated, four died of natural causes, and one resigned. In a strange coincidence, every president elected in a year ending in zero between 1840 and 1960 left the White House feet first. William Henry Harrison didn’t last a month; Lincoln, Garfield, McKinley and Kennedy were assassinated; and Harding and FDR died of heart failure. Mercifully, the string was broken when Ronald Reagan survived an assassin’s bullet.

Our modern presidents are much more familiar, and since FDR, far more consequential. Yet that hasn’t prevented some major boneheaded moves—intern escapades, break-in cover-ups, arms-for-hostages swaps, etc. You’d think the office came with enough built-in complications without manufacturing more. 

Few historians dispute that George Washington was our budding country’s essential man. Washington shaped the office, steadied the nation, and then walked away from power—an achievement rare enough to deserve its own holiday. The rest of our presidents can take comfort in knowing they’re at least invited to the same sale at the mattress store—even Millard Fillmore.