Coolidge

Tuesday Feb 12

by


12:10 P.M.

The radio afforded me the
opportunity to hear the adress
of Pres. Coolidge, delivered at the
Waldorf Astoria. It was a
masterpiece, He is for tax reduction
against a bonus, and the way I
understood it he made an overture
for the European Nations for another
conference for still more disarmament.

He is for National economy.
He states that the 3 Americans that
are in Europe conferring about the
present situation, are not the repre-
sentatives of the government, but they
have with them the mind of the Am.
people. He outlined his attitude
toward Mexico.

Although I do not fully agree with
him, he won for his simplicity and
frankness my highest admiration
tonight.

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Matt’s Notes:

Coolidge’s Lincoln Day Dinner address at the Waldorf-Astoria was his first appearance in New York, his first national address, and, as the the New York Times noted, “was generally considered as the first utterance in his campaign for election to the Presidency…” Presidential radio appearances were still novel at the time; I think the way Papa introduces his recap of the broadcast (“the radio afforded the the opportunity to hear the address…”) shows how unaccustomed he was to such a privilege. Similarly, the Times devoted a few paragraphs to the logistics of the broadcast (“atmospheric conditions were splendid”) and assorted snafus (apparently the broadcast crossed wires a few times with a broadcast by the China Society).

I’m tempted to kid myself into pining for a long-lost America whose airwaves weren’t befouled by political dross, but Coolidge’s speech betrays signs of the approaching darkness. In it, Coolidge tries to contain the Teapot Dome scandal, which he inherited from Harding and centered on the illicit relationships between Cabinet members and oil companies; defended his plan to give tax breaks to corporations and wealthy Americans, even though he said the government could not afford bonuses for the military (something about how soldiers had fought WWI for principles, not money); and gave a lukewarm nod toward world disarmament while pitching an arms sale to Mexico.

It’s hard for me not to cringe at Coolidge’s speech because it reminds me so much of the crap Dubya spews, but even factoring that in I find Papa’s kind assessment of such a non-progressive speech incongruous (the New York Times’ transcript is here; subscription required). Still, it’s not incomprehensible for a few reasons. First, as I’ve noted before, Papa inherently expected the best from people and had a remarkable ability to look kindly on their flaws; why wouldn’t this apply to Presidents as well? Second, the mere excitement over hearing the President on the radio may have predisposed him toward what he heard. Third, Woodrow Wilson, who I think Papa was particularly attached to, had died nine days earlier; maybe Papa just needed to be won over, to feel the “highest admiration” for a President once again and get back a little of what he’d lost.

In any event, now seems like a good time to share this photograph of Papa listening to his radio. Maybe this is what he looked like when he heard the Coolidge speech:

photo of Papa listening to radio

Friday Feb 22

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This is Washingtons birthday
which reminds me that his
courage and sacrifice is a
source of inspiration not only
to Americans, but to people
the world over.

After brief visits to both
my sisters this evening,
I listened in to a radio
adress (sic) given by President
Coolidge to the occasion
of Washingtons birthday.

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Matt’s notes:

For Papa to make a note about George Washington’s example in his private diary again proves how sincerely he believes in America and in the merits of sacrificing oneself for the greater good. Coolidge echoed these sentiments in his radio address (the transcript is in the New York Times archive) but they feel more genuine coming from Papa (who knows, maybe Coolidge was sincere — I’ve just lost the capacity to be impressed by Presidential speeches after decades of grotesque national politics, and particularly after the last six years of Presidential lies and opportunism.)

As it did for Coolidge’s radio address a few weeks prior, the New York Times reviewed the clarity of the broadcast, reported on atmospheric conditions, and described the logistics associated with carrying the speech to various American Telephone and Telegraph Company radio stations in the Northeast. I mention this just as a reminder of how novel it still was, in February 1924, to hear a President’s voice on the radio.

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Update 3/8

Dina writes:

Reading Papa’s thoughts about Washington reminded me that my Zeide, my Dad’s father, also had great American heroes. He admired Lincoln, Helen Keller and I think Walt Whitman! I wonder if it was characteristic, for men of our grandfather’s generation, to hold these historical figures in such high regard because they represented, for them, what was best about America. i will have to ask my Dad if he remembers why Zeide loved these individuals so much.

Reading your grandfather’s entries and your comments has caused me to remember things about my Zeide. He like your Papa loved the theater but I don’t believe that he attended many shows. He did however read plays and as a teen ager I borrowed anthologies from him and read many well known and obscure plays from the 1930’s. My grandfather too was an ardent Zionist but probably less left leaning than Papa. I’ll try to dig up some info on his activities. It would be interesting if their paths crossed as I believe they were more or less contemporaries.

Monday Apr 14

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Home attended to some
correspondence, listened
in on the radio. The opening of
the congress of Daughters
of the American Revolution,
Adresses by Pres. Coolidge
French ambassador Jusserand,
British Amb. Howard,
Gen. Pershing.

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Matt’s Notes

When Papa sat down at 8:00 PM and tuned in to WEAF, he listened to President Coolidge urge the Daughters of the American Revolution to get out and vote in the next election. It seems like an offhand moment by today’s standards, but Papa found it novel enough, as he did with many radio broadcasts, to record it in his diary.

As with its February 6 coverage of President Wilson’s funeral, AT&T distributed Coolidge’s speech by telephone line to three of its East coast radio stations: WCAP in Washington, WJAR in Providence, R.I., and WEAF in New York. The previous day’s New York Times saw fit to devote a column to the complexities and expense involved — the “remote control” technology it described had only been commercially practical for a year, and even so “the actual work necessary to prepare long-distance telephone lines for use in connection with radio broadcasting sometimes requires as many as sixty-five engineers.”

(A related article also excitedly reported on how “Hertzian waves” helped farmers research prices in multiple markets and figure out where to sell their goods. Said one Ohio farmer: “It is not difficult to make a radio pay dividends when rightly handled, and scarcely a week passes without my outfit yielding me something of value.”)

Coolidge had only been on the radio a few times since he took the reigns after President Harding’s death in 1923, but his voice resonated particularly well and helped make him an early broadcast celebrity. Coolidge quickly caught on to the medium’s potential as a campaign tool and broadcast a number of speeches, including the one mentioned above, in the run-up to the 1924 Republican Convention.

Since the audience consisted of women descended from America’s founders, the speech was appropriately full of patriotic rhetoric and historical references. Its central theme, though, concerned a more recent historical development, the effects of which had not, it seems, entirely permeated American life: the 1920 ratification of the 19th Amendment, which granted women the right to vote in federal elections. As Coolidge noted:

We have not yet been able to frame a very definite judgment of the changes that will be wrought in our public life, or our private life, because of this remarkable development. It has come so suddenly upon the world, chiefly within this first quarter of the twentieth century, that we have not had time to appraise its full meaning.

And:

I suppose that even among the Daughters of the America Revolution there are some women who sincerely feel that it is unbecoming of their sex to take an active part in politics. It is a little difficult to comprehend how such an attitude could be maintained by any women eligible to such a society as this…

Nevertheless, there are such, and to them I want especially to direct an appeal for a different attitude toward the obligations of the voter…

What must Papa have thought of such a speech? It’s hard to imagine a group more removed from his world of Zionist fundraisers and immigrant support societies than the Daughters of the American Revolution, and it’s hard to imagine an issue more baffling to him than the need to convince well-established, entirely assimilated Americans to accept their enfranchisement (still a baffling problem today, of course). Perhaps the mere thrill of listening to the President through his headphones distracted Papa from contemplating such things.

Monday July 7

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Radio and an open hour
at C.I. bathing.

Just heard on radio that
Presidents son died at 10:30
tonight. My sympathy goes
forth to the Presidents family

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Matt’s Notes

Papa likely heard about the death of President Coolidge’s son when the Democratic Convention, as heard on WEAF’s broadcast, adjourned early that night out of respect for the President’s family. (Calvin, Jr. died of septicemia after a tennis-related blister on his heel became infected.)

It’s worth pointing out how odd it must have been for Americans like Papa, who weren’t yet accustomed to live radio news, to learn of such an event as it happened. Papa was by all accounts an extraordinarily compassionate person, but I wonder if he would have written “my sympathy goes forth to the President’s family” in his private journal had he merely read the news in the morning papers. (Then again, he was still profoundly affected by his own father’s death, so perhaps he would have responded the same way to the President’s loss no matter how he heard about it.)

We should also note that the Democratic Convention had reached an interesting point before its early adjournment.

Balloting had been deadlocked for a week. The frontrunner, William McAdoo, had unsuccessfully proposed a rules change that would have allowed him to take the nomination with a simple majority of delegates as opposed to the traditional two-thirds. New York Governor Al Smith, who controlled a blocking minority, had led a push to get all candidates to release their delegates, but McAdoo had refused.

Into the fray waded James M. Cox, the newspaper publisher, former Governor of Ohio and 1920 Democratic Presidential candidate. The negotiations Cox held upon his arrival in New York seemed to trigger some movement at the convention. McAdoo’s delegates started to drift toward other candidates, effectively ending his bid. Smith gained a few votes, but seasoned political observers knew he had no chance, either. The race was wide open again.

I’ve been party to a conversational ice-breaker where someone asks everyone in the room whether they’d rather visit the past or the future. I usually say the future, but I must say it would be hard to resist a chance to witness the stunning levels of deal-making, cigar-smoking, hallway-sprinting and door-knocking that lit up convention headquarters at the Waldorf-Astoria that night. If the rules permitted, though, I’d probably sneak out, hop a subway to the Lower East Side, and knock on Papa’s door. I don’t know what I’d say when he answered. Maybe I’d just ask him how the waves were at Coney Island.

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References from the New York Times:

Other References:

August 2, 1928 – New York City

by

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New York Aug. 2nd 1928

My Dear Jeanie: –

I am in receipt of your card and letter
which is so peculiar of that fighting spirit of yours
which I so admire, in fact I got a kick out of reading it,
I am really sorry if I made you sore, and please
let’s consider that a closed incident.1

From your meager description of the place I can
gather that it is an ideal place for you to get a real
rest, with noise and excitement the city can supply you
plentiful.2

Your folks received your card and letter as well
dad told me that he was feeling fine and so does everyone
in your family.

My working season is getting a slow start, I am
off again today and tomorrow on again, my business
to me is a like a barometer description of the poor
business conditions of the current times.3

This morning my dear I mailed you a
package of candies I hope that you will receive it
before the end of this week.

And now I intend sending you some funny
magazines, at a quiet place like the one you’re at
it would serve well to fill out your leisure time by
reading light literature.4

./.

2.

I think that your neighbor Etta the Kid, her
mother and Phil are leaving for the country today
and my friend Jack will be lonesome for awhile.5

This Friday I will be up your house and
see everybody and hear little Shirley’s greeting to me
which is something like this Alloh Messah Shaman6
that’s the way she saluted me last time, and besides
I expect your father to have a revival of old music like
Ich bin a yingele von Poilen, the Bowery, etc. and if
I can hook you up on the phone you will have the
pleasure of listening to this Grand Operatic Concert.7

Here I’m closing that I may leave
space for another poem this time by Robert
Burns the immortal Scotch poet.

Your Harry.

Intermingled with Scotch words.

It is Na, Jean, They Bonie Face

In is na, Jean, they bonie face,
Nor shape that I admire,
Altho thy beauty and thy grace
Might well awauk desire

Something, ilka part o’ thee
To praise, to love, I find,
But dear so is thy form to me,
Still dearer is thy mind.

Nae mair ungenorous wish I hae
Nor stronger in my breast,
Than, if I canna make the sae,
At least to see thee blest.

Content am I, if heaven shall give
But happiness to thee;
And as wi’ thee I wish to live,
For thee I’d bear to die.

H.

P.S.

Jean is the correct name
as used by Burns in the
above poem.

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1 – We can’t be sure, but it looks like my grandmother gave Papa a figurative earful for his July 29th letter, in which he took her to task for blowing off a scheduled phone call with him and upsetting his plans. True to his remarkably forgiving, generous nature, Papa takes what was almost certainly a grouchy card and a nasty letter and interprets them as admirable, entertaining signs of her “fighting spirit”. This may seem like an exaggerated response designed by Papa to demonstrate his devotion to my grandmother or defuse her anger, but I don’t think it’s too far from sincere. My grandmother gave what we could politely call enthusiastic voice to her “fighting spirit” throughout her life with Papa, and had he not a real capacity to admire it, or even enjoy it, he likely wouldn’t have been able to tolerate it.

2 – On the other hand, Papa still hasn’t stopped expressing dissatisfaction with my grandmother’s infrequent and spare correspondence, in this case her “meagre” description of her summer vacation spot, the Viola Hotel in Lake Huntington, New York. Perhaps, as a non-native English speaker, Papa has improperly used the word “meagre” to mean “short” without understanding its connotations of deprivation, but I think his oft-demonstrated, admirable writing skills preclude the possibility. He’s just not going to let my grandmother off the hook for her lack of interest in communication.

3 – Those of us who haven’t formally studied economic history tend to think the Great Depression hit the United States rather suddenly in 1929, but of course it couldn’t have happened all at once. American workers like Papa obviously detected “the poor business conditions of the current times” much earlier, and in the election year of 1928 Democratic Presidential candidate (and New York Governor) Al Smith and other critics of President Coolidge publicly questioned whether the economy was as healthy as it looked. (Perhaps the subject of the economy came up in Papa’s letter because it was a hot topic of conversation that year.) Papa had shown his support for Al Smith and his anti-Prohibition, progressive platform during the disastrous 1924 Democratic Convention, so he was probably as happy about Smith’s candidacy in ’28 as he was unhappy about Herbert Hoover’s eventual victory.

4 – This reminds me that my grandmother had a strong appetite for “light literature,” especially Harlequin Romances and the like.

5 – “My friend Jack” was, as those of you who have been following along well know, the legendary Jack Zichlinsky, one of Papa’s best friends. Jack lived just a few doors down from my grandmother’s family on Hart Street in Brooklyn and, judging by the familiar way Papa discusses him here, knew my grandmother fairly well.

6 – That’s “Hello mister Scheuermann” in baby talk, in case it wasn’t clear.

7 – My mother tells me that everyone in my grandmother’s family yelled at each other all the time, but Papa’s letters indicate that they liked to sing together, as well. (Perhaps they were a musical bunch in general; they even boasted a professional violinist among their ranks in the person of my grandmother’s brother, Bob.) If you’ve been paying attention you’ll remember that Papa had already established my grandfather’s mastery of the traditional Yiddish song “A Yingele fon Poilen” in his May 7, 1925 postcard, but in case you missed it here’s a version of it by the Kharkof Klezmer Band from Last.fm:

This is the first time Papa has mentioned “The Bowery,” a beloved ditty from Charles H. Hoyt’s 1891 musical “A Trip To Chinatown.” The blog Vitaphone Varieties tells us that vintage recordings of “The Bowery” are difficult to come by, but it does make this contemporary reproduction available:

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Update:

In his last letter, Papa quoted a Robert Browning poem because he found himself unable to compose for my grandmother a “sentimental” passage of his own. Though he blamed the summer heat for his sluggish writing skills, I think he was (as I noted previously) angry with my grandmother for blowing off a phone appointment and for her ongoing lack of interest in written correspondence. He expressed his irritation in mild ways, but I think he really wanted to say more, maybe even explode with frustration over her five years of spare communication and withheld affection. At odds with these feelings, he may have developed a little writer’s block to keep the words at bay. Perhaps he quoted another poem in this letter because he still felt angry, still needed to keep his safety valves shut tight against the gathering flood.

References: