from the earth. The reaction of this obviously limited but honest, shrewd,
sentimental, resolute American primitive to those gorgeous and sophisti-
cated times--his White House years--furnished material for a study of
American life as reflected in American business and American politics,
which I hope may be worth the perusal of readers who would understand
their country in one fine, far day of its pomp and glory.

Furthermore, this book is an attempt, nearly a decade after the Coolidg-
ean era, to set down even in that short perspective the story of the man
and his times whose administration closed a distinct epoch in American
life. President Harding's administration from 1921 to 1923 was an episode,
a sort of intermezzo between President Wilson with his illusion of world
peace unfairly negotiated and President Coolidge with his speculative
boom. Both were calamities that followed in the train of war. The story of
the Coolidge period, a stirring drama, hangs on the undramatic and slight
figure of the man who dominated the era, and by his qualities rather than
by his words or deeds gave it substance and direction.

In listing the various books and contemporary friends and acquaintances
who have aided in the composition of this narrative, I must name first of
all Calvin Coolidge. I met him in the White House in December, 1924. I
was asked by Collier's Weekly to write a series of four or five articles,
more or less biographical, about the President, and Collier's made the ap-
pointment for me with the President. He sent a telegraphic invitation for
Mrs. White and me to join him and Mrs. Coolidge on a party on the
Presidential yacht, Mayflower. A December snow had slowed down western
railroads. Our two hours leeway for connections at Chicago between the
Santa Fe Railroad and the Pennsylvania was clipped from two hours to ten
minutes. The Pennsylvania train master held his train while we crossed Chi-
cago. But our trunk could not travel as fast as we. So we landed in Wash-
ington with one little black bag. It was easy for me to rent evening clothes.
Mrs. White ransacked the wardrobe of Mrs. Victor Murdock and her
daughter, Mrs. Harvey Delano, and appeared in rather gorgeous borrowed
plumage as we walked up the gangplank of the Mayflower Saturday noon.
Being what we were, we could not conceal the joke on ourselves; and the
gay party from the White House, including the President and Mrs. Cool-
idge, Mr. and Mrs. George Harvey, Mr. and Mrs. David Lawrence, Gover-
nor and Mrs. Gore, of West Virginia, made festive and ribald remarks about
Mrs. White's borrowed clothes when she appeared; and my hired evening
clothes were not without puncture from a few slings and arrows. The gaiety
thereunto appertaining early broke what might have been the ice of the
party. We lived on the Mayflower until Monday morning. It went a few
miles down stream and anchored most of the time. My first experience
with the President came on the wharf as we embarked. The camera men
wanted a picture of the party. One photographer--a moving-picture man--
hustled us around for a silent news reel and then cried:

"Look pleasant, and for Heaven's sake say something--anything; good
morning or howdy do!"

-vi-