Presidential Pet Museum

theodore roosevelt

PPM Picks: THE NATURALIST

By

By Andrew Hager, Historian-in-residence

PPM Picks is a weekly feature offering film, book, or music recommendations from our staff. The links provided in the article go to product listings on Amazon. Purchases made using these links support the Presidential Pet Museum. That said, we were not paid to review or promote any of the items mentioned. We just legitimately like them.

There’s a caricature of Theodore Roosevelt as a hyper-masculine blowhard bulldozing his way through life. Not only did he carry a big stick, but he used it, both in politics and in his private life. He embodied a certain patrician ruggedness, and in no place is this more evident than in his love of hunting.

To be sure, one can find evidence to support this view of the president. Indeed, depending on the biography of TR you read, you could be forgiven for feeling that the above description is the sum of the man. Happily, Darrin Lunde’s The Naturalist focuses solely on Teddy’s relationship with the natural world, and it provides a great deal of context for better understanding the man and his times.

Full disclosure–I have been hunting. Members of my family hunt for food. I find it boring, but not morally objectionable. Big game hunting, however, where rich men pay exorbitant fees for the chance to kill a large animal for bragging rights, repulses me. My relationship to TR has always been filtered through my knowledge that he enjoyed killing lions and rhinos, shooting over 200 large animals on his post-presidential African safari. Fortunately, Lunde argues persuasively that Roosevelt’s hunts were less about masculinity than about science.

The Naturalist opens with young Teddy, age eight, acquiring the head of a seal from a New York grocer. The boy took it home, cleaned the skull (by boiling or by allowing beetles to eat the flesh), and started his own museum with the end result. From that point, science had hooked him. He collected birds and mice and other small creatures, examining them, taking copious notes, and stuffing them. He longed to become a naturalist, hunting rare animals on behalf of museums, providing specimens for laboratory scientists to examine. His professional life took a different path, obviously, but in his free time, he continued to study animals.

In the late nineteenth century, hunting was an important part of being a naturalist. Without specimens to examine, scientists could not properly determine the differences between species or understand animal anatomy. Many of the tens of thousands of specimens in the Smithsonian’s collection came from amateurs like Roosevelt. These men enjoyed the hunt, yes, but their act served a greater purpose than providing a weekend’s adventure.

Contextualizing TR’s sporting life for modern readers is no small achievement. We have assumptions about endangered animals and the environment that are descended from the views held by men like him. As I read, I was surprised to find myself admiring TR the hunter. Your take may differ from mine, but The Naturalist is certainly a must-read for those who wish to better understand Roosevelt.

PPM Goes to School!

By

On May 15, historian-in-residence Andrew Hager travelled to Fredericksburg, Virginia, to discuss presidential pets with students at South Stafford Christian School. The students, who ranged in age from pre-school to 12th grade, learned about a variety of White House animals, from Teddy Roosevelt’s badger, Josiah, to JFK’s Russian pup, Pushinka.

The school visit was the first of what the Museum hopes will be many such outings. We are working hard to develop a series of programs for elementary and middle school youth that will nurture a life-long love of history and animals.

The students and staff at South Stafford Christian could not have been more welcoming or attentive. We hope they will continue to explore the ways animals have impacted our culture, our politics, and our daily lives!

If you live in the mid-Atlantic region and would like the Presidential Pet Museum to visit your school, please email us at [email protected] for more details! We’d love to talk to you!

Lessons from Teddy Roosevelt

By

By Andrew Hager, Historian-in-Residence

Working at the Presidential Pet Museum a fun job, particularly for a person like me who loves history. One of the best things about the work is the chance to really dig into the presidents’ lives, to better understand the men who have shaped this country for good or for ill.

Of course, some presidents are more interesting than others. How much can you say about Chester A. Arthur? He had horses and some cool facial hair, but that’s about it. His legacy is limited to some civil service reforms that would fit in a footnote in a history textbook. (I anticipate a few angry pro-Arthur emails for that.)

Not so with Theodore Roosevelt. With TR, you have a larger-than-life personality, a man who barreled through life with the exuberance of a dozen lesser men. I would wager that at the mention of his name, most of you probably pictured a barrel-chested and mustachioed man in a cowboy hat waving a big stick and yelling “Bully!” while standing next to a lion he had just killed with his bare hands. Sure, it’s a caricature, but it’s not too far off the mark.

Here was a man so tough, so resilient, that when he was shot in the chest while campaigning as the presidential nominee of the Progressive (or Bull Moose) Party In 1912, he refused medical attention and gave a ninety-minute speech with blood seeping onto his shirt. He began this speech by saying, “Ladies and gentlemen, I don’t know whether you fully understand that I have just been shot, but it takes more than that to kill a Bull Moose.” (Meanwhile, if I feel myself getting a hangnail, I’ll be cutting this post short.) I could probably cite that incident as proof enough that you can overcome any obstacle with enough determination and grit, but in fact, Roosevelt was even more remarkable.

When he was a young child, Teddy suffered from debilitating asthma. At night, his sleep was sometimes interrupted with asthmatic attacks so severe that he felt as if he was being smothered to death. Doctors had no cure, and his parents were, as any of us would be, terrified. Young Teddy was certainly frightened, too, but he was determined not to let his fear keep him from doing what he wanted to do, and, oh, there were a lot of things he wanted to do. He taught himself taxidermy and created his own museum using animals he had hunted. He traveled with his family to Europe and Egypt. When he was eleven, he hiked through the Alps with his father, which is no small feat for a person with asthma. He took up boxing to strengthen a body he believed was too weak. This youthful love of adventure and activity carried him the rest of his life, even through that would-be assassin’s bullet.

Yes, the sickly little boy made himself physically strong by sheer force of will. And maybe I could end my rant here and everyone would get the point I’m trying to make, but there’s more to TR’s story than that.

In 1884, what should have been one of Roosevelt’s happiest moments became one of the darkest he ever experienced. Two days after giving birth, to their first daughter, his wife died of kidney failure. The symptoms of her illness had been masked by her pregnancy. That same day, his mother, who was living in the same house, died of typhoid fever. In his diary that evening, he drew a large black X on the page with a brief notation: “The light has left my life forever.” He was 25 years old.

Roosevelt decided to charge forward. He threw himself into public life. In ten years, he was the head of the police commission for New York City, where he worked at ending corruption and increasing standards for the hiring of officers. Seven years after that, he became the President of the United States. His life exemplifies Newton’s law that objects in motion tend to remain in motion. Or, as his friend Henry Adams remarked upon TR’s death in 1919, “He was Pure Act.”

How difficult it is for most of us to act at all! I find myself putting my goals off for two, three, maybe even four years, as lesser ambitions distract me. When it comes to long-term focus, I have the perseverance of a cat watching a laser pointer. I run here, scamper there, and end up pouncing on nothing, Then I do it again.

I’m not alone. As you’ve probably heard, a reported 92% of Americans fail with their New Year’s resolutions. We represent that other Newtonian idea—that objects at rest tend to remain at rest. We get frustrated with the results of our efforts, and we stop. Anything that makes us uncomfortable is avoided. We seek comfort and ease above all else.

This is not good for us or for our community. If we never risk failure, if we never dare to flop, we will never experience real, gratifying success. As Richard Nixon said in his final address to the White House staff in 1974,

We think sometimes when things happen that don’t go the right way; we think that when you don’t pass the bar exam the first time… We think that when someone dear to us dies, we think that when we lose an election, we think that when we suffer a defeat that all is ended. We think, as T.R. said, that the light had left his life forever.

Not true. It is only a beginning, always. The young must know it; the old must know it. It must always sustain us, because the greatness comes not when things go always good for you, but the greatness comes and you are really tested, when you take some knocks, some disappointments, when sadness comes, because only if you have been in the deepest valley can you ever know how magnificent it is to be on the highest mountain.

I don’t mean to make it sound like we are in full control of our own destinies. After all, Teddy Roosevelt didn’t ask to get shot before he gave that speech. What we are in control of is the way we respond to the forces more powerful than us.

I do not think we need to become, like Roosevelt, Pure Act. In a lot of ways, that’s foolish. If you are shot in the chest, for example. I would encourage you to seek immediate medical attention, even if it means cancelling your plans, no matter how important you think they are. Roosevelt believed in a masculine ideal that does not fit with the way most of us see the world. He believed that bravery in battle was the highest virtue, that war was a good way to test one’s spirits. That Romantic idea died with the First World War, and should have died sooner.

Rather, I would encourage you to learn simply to move forward thoughtfully, with joy, toward your goals, practicing and failing and trying again until you are happy with where you are. It will be stressful. It will not, most often, be fun. You will be battered and bruised. Don’t let go of hope. Keep moving. And when you do accomplish your goals, take a moment to see how far you’ve come. Stand on the peak of that mountain and look at the valley from which you have just climbed. Celebrate. And then push onward.

PPM Picks: THE WIND AND THE LION

By

By Andrew Hager, Historian-in-residence

PPM Picks is a weekly feature offering film, book, or music recommendations from our staff. The links provided in the article go to product listings on Amazon. Purchases made using these links support the Presidential Pet Museum. That said, we were not paid to review or promote any of the items mentioned. We just legitimately like them.

Imagine an adventure film based (loosely) on real events. Picture desert raids, swordplay, midnight escapes, pitched battles, acts of courage, and good-natured fun. If you had to imagine a real American president who would fit easily into such a world, whom would you choose?

I’ll give you a hint: it’s not Chester Arthur.

Theodore Roosevelt (a charismatic Brian Keith) is not the principal character in The Wind and the Lion, but he hurtles around the periphery of the story, boxing, shooting, and waxing poetic about America’s role on the world stage.

It’s October of 1904, and the Raisuli (Sean Connery), leader of the Berbers, has kidnapped an American woman (Candice Bergen) and her two children. He hopes to destabilize Morocco and settle a few scores. The hostages are leverage; by playing the American government against the European-backed Sultan, the swashbuckling Raisuli hopes to gain power from the chaos. What he didn’t bargain for is the fierce independence of his captive, who proves herself to be his equal in both intellect and bravery.

Part Indiana Jones, part African Queen, The Wind and the Lion succeeds where so many action movies fail. Writer-director John Milius builds effective tension and stages his battles with clarity. More importantly, the characters are allowed to develop in their own time, which adds real stakes to the proceedings. And all the while, there’s Teddy Roosevelt wielding the big stick of his forceful personality. That’s quite a bonus. The central narrative may belong to others, but the world belongs to T. R.

Rollo, Teddy Roosevelt’s St. Bernard

By

Theodore Roosevelt and the St. Bernard he tried to return, Rollo.
President Theodore Roosevelt and the Saint Bernard he once tried to return, Rollo.

The Teddy Roosevelt family kept the White House hopping from 1901 to 1909 with many animals, including dogs, cats, ponies, snakes, birds, rabbits, guinea pigs — and friendly Rollo, the St. Bernard.

The big brown-and-white bear of a dog was a gift to the family of eight from a family friend and the dog’s namesake, Alfred S. Rollo.

Apparently, the president tried to decline the large gift. In a letter dated Dec. 22, 1902 to Mr. Rollo, he wrote in part:

I’m going to ask you not to think me churlish if I say we have three collies already, one of them a puppy, and four other dogs in addition, and that I really do not [have] house room or stable room for any more.

I dare not venture to tell your proposition to my children.

Faithfully yours,

Theodore Roosevelt

[Here is the full text of the letter.]

As happens to many parents, TR lost this battle. Rollo — all 200 or so pounds of him — did indeed arrive at the White House.

In fact, the friendly St. Bernard enjoyed bounding after the children on the White House lawn, sometimes accompanied by the president, as shown in the photo above.

Kids Loved Rollo — and He Loved Them

The Associated Press once described Rollo as Roosevelt’s “most interesting pet” — and that’s saying a lot, considering just how much of a zoo the White House was during his administration.

According to the AP, Rollo was “a massive St. Bernard with massive self-restraint. The Roosevelt kids virtually dismantled Rollo, but Rollo didn’t mind. After all, he was built to lead a dog’s life.”

A later article in a Canadian newspaper agreed, saying: “Visitors to the White House were often … pursued by the bounding Rollo. The astonished guests expected the big dog to pounce on the children and devour them. But Rollo was a childrens’ dog; he truly loved them. He never uttered a growl of protest or bared his teeth when the children played rough games with him.”

Rollo loved kids, but he was said to be happiest when the president lavished attention on him.

Emily Spinach in the Roosevelt White House

By

During a time when it was thought that young women should be seen and not heard, Alice Roosevelt didn’t fit the mold.

Teddy Roosevelt’s oldest child — and his only child with his first wife, Alice Lee, who died two days after giving birth — was 17 when her father took office as president in 1901.

In addition to her good looks, Alice became known for her outrageous — at least for the time — behavior.

Apparently she chewed gum, played poker and smoked cigarettes. Dubbed “Princess Alice” by the press, Alice also was known for her extensive and expensive wardrobe. Her father once said, “I can either manage Alice or the country. I can’t do both.”

emily-spinach-snakeAlice had a pet garter snake that she was fond of carrying around in her pocketbook and displaying at unexpected times.

She named the snake Emily Spinach because it was “as green as spinach and as thin as my Aunt Emily,” she said in an interview.

Snakes Run in the Family

Alice’s younger brother, Quentin, also had a fondness for snakes.

The story goes that Quentin purchased four snakes at a Washington, D.C. pet shop and brought them to the Oval Office to show his father. White House officials and Cabinet members were used to one of the Roosevelt kids interrupting important meetings, and they waited patiently when the young boy ran into the room during a meeting and greeted his father at his desk.

When Quentin released the four snakes on the desk, however, several dignitaries scrambled for cover.

Quentin was able to capture his snakes, but apparently his usually easy-going father was not amused. The snakes were returned to the pet shop that day.

Presidential Pet Museum in the News