President William McKinley's wife used to have fits. If she suffered one during, say, a White House state dinner, McKinley would reach into his breast pocket for a large silk handkerchief, which with a matter-of-fact chivalry he would drape over her face. The President's forbidding dignity kept the conversation going, and when poor Ida, an epileptic, came around, he would remove the handkerchief and tenderly lead her back into the table talk.
Americans elect a President, but they inevitably get his kin as well. Into the grave splendor of his new job the President's...
To continue reading:
or
Log-In
