The question of a “Summer Capital,” as the President’s summer home is called, was quite a serious one for us to settle. We had been going to Murray Bay for so many years that we had few affiliations with any other place, and we were most uncertain as to what we might be able to do.
We finally selected a number of likely places and made our choice by the process of elimination. One location was too hot, another had a reputation for mosquitoes, another was too far away, another hadn’t first-class railway, postal and telegraph facilities, and another, worst drawback of all, had no good golf links. It wouldn’t have been a livable place for Mr. Taft without golf links because golf was his principal form of exercise and recreation. Also the whole family agreed that we must be near the sea, so our search finally narrowed to the Massachusetts coast. I decided on the North Shore, as the coast from Beverly to Gloucester is called, because it had every qualification for which we were seeking, including excellent golf at the Myopia and Essex County clubs. Then, too, it had a further attraction in that the summer homes of a number of our friends were located there, or in the near vicinity.
I went up in the spring to Beverly Farms, with my friend Miss Boardman, and inspected houses for three days, finally selecting one, principally for its location. It stood near the sea and its velvety green lawns sloped all the way down to the seawall. From its verandah one could see out across Salem Harbour to Marblehead.
The house itself was a modern frame cottage, as simple as anything well could be, with a fine verandah and a dormer windowed third story. It was large enough for the family and for such visitors as we inevitably would have to accommodate, but besides the Taft family, which was numerous enough at that time, there were Captain Butt and a large corps of secretaries and stenographers, to say nothing of the Commander of the Sylph, the President’s smaller yacht, who all had to be within call when they were wanted. Then, too, there was the necessity for Executive Offices and I didn’t think it would seem like having a vacation at all if the Executive Offices could not be somewhere out of sight so that they might sometimes be out of mind. The President didn’t expect to be able to spend much of his time away from Washington the first summer but when he did come to Beverly I wanted him to feel that he was at least partially detaching himself from business. So another house was found in the town, yet on the seashore, and was fitted up for Executive Offices and as a home for the office staff and Captain Butt. The secret service men, like the poor, we had with us always, but it never seemed to me that they “lived” anywhere. They were merely around all the time. They were never uniformed, of course, and looked like casual visitors. They used to startle callers by emerging suddenly from behind bushes or other secluded spots—not I am sure because of a weakness for detective methods, but because they concealed comfortable chairs in these places—and asking them what they wanted. It was sometimes most amusing and sometimes rather trying, but as long as there are cranks and unbalanced persons such precautions will be necessary for the protection of Presidents, and anyhow, one gets so used to the men as almost to forget what they are there for.
We did not go to Beverly the first summer until the third of July. Captain Butt preceded us to make final arrangements for our reception on the Fourth, and the servants and motor cars had been sent on several days before. I was still in such ill health that it was necessary to avoid the excitement of the inevitable crowds, so when our private car “Mayflower” arrived in Beverly the welcome ceremonies were purposely subdued. A great crowd was present at the station, but at Mr. Taft’s request no speeches were made. Shortly after we arrived at the house the Mayor of Beverly, with a committee of citizens, called, an address of welcome was delivered, to which Mr. Taft responded and cordial relations were established. But nothing more occurred even though it was the Fourth of July.
Mr. Taft spent just one day with us, then hurried away to keep a bewildering number of engagements here and there before he returned to Washington, where Congress was still in stormy session over the tariff bill.
He came back in August to spend a month with us, and then the little seaside colony, which we had found as quiet as the woods, except for the lavish hospitality of its people, became indeed the nation’s summer capital. Nobody found it inconvenient to come to Beverly to see the President and he was just about as busy there as he ever was in Washington. He had a game of golf every day on the Myopia links and grew jubilant over his scores, but for the most part he seemed always to
