The President's Daughter (Britton)/Chapter 25
There were memorable visits to Washington. The first time I went over I went to the New Ebbitt Hotel, following Mr. Harding's instructions, where I registered as Miss Elizabeth N. Christian. Mr. Harding came to see me and came up to my room. He took me for a long ride that afternoon in a beautiful hired touring car about the city and out along the Potomac. I well remember that car; it was grey and very beautifully upholstered and glided so smoothly along the streets while Mr. Harding pointed out places of interest to me. His boyish enthusiasm in playing host was delightful, and I am sure I was a most appreciative guest. That evening we went to his office in the Senate Building, which was then Room 314; later on he moved to Room 341, I think it was. I was in both offices I know.
On our way to the Senate Office Building, we cut through the Capitol grounds.
"Some day you will be President," I said to him.
"Say, you darling," he replied, "I've got the best job in the United States right now!" I think Mr. Harding did like being Senator.
I remember once when I was in Washington, going over Saturday and returning Sunday night, he took me on Saturday night to the theatre to see the play, "Good Morning, Judge!" That is, he took me to the door of the theatre! I remember how disappointed I was when he turned to leave me after telling me to take a taxi after the performance and "get back to the hotel and into bed." I had not asked him, but had taken it for granted he was going to the show with me. I must have forgotten I was in Washington and not in New York, where he could go around with me without so much fear of being recognized.
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In New York we did go to the theatre together. Sometimes he would come over, take me to the theatre and return to Washington at midnight. Mrs. Harding was ill a good deal of the time and he found it difficult to be away as much as he would have liked. Perhaps the reader may recall Woodrow Wilson's saying to a New York theatre audience one evening, "You think you are seeing a President of the United States, but you are just seeing a tired man having a good time." This was when he attended a performance of "Jack O'Lantern," starring Fred Stone, at the Globe Theatre. One week later, Mr. Harding and I dined at the Biltmore and he bought tickets there for "Jack O'Lantern." As we walked over to the theatre from the hotel, Mr. Harding said, "Guess how much these tickets cost, Nan?" and told me he had paid $5.50 apiece for them. Another instance of what he termed war-time graft. But these prices still stay!
Behind us in the theatre sat a man who seemed to recognize Mr. Harding, for I heard him speak Mr. Harding's name and turned after awhile to look at him. Mr. Harding turned too later on, but said he did not know the man. I suggested that some day everybody would be turning to look at him—when he was President! In this connection I repeated to Mr. Harding what Woodrow Wilson had been quoted as having said the previous Friday night. "Well, I've got one over him!" Mr. Harding whispered to me, as the curtain rose, "I'm not tired and I am having a grand time!"
One night we went to see Al Jolson in "Sinbad, the Sailor," at the Winter Garden. I was not particularly taken with the show and evidenced my impatience to leave during the finale. I pulled my wrap about my shoulders, picked up my gloves and paid no attention to the performance. "Where are you going, Nan?" Mr. Harding asked in gentle rebuke. If ever there was anyone thoughtful of others it was Warren Harding, and it is likely that, being a speaker himself, he wished to extend all possible courtesy and attentiveness to others who held the stage.
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I am reminded in connection with these gay evenings of the many times Mr. Harding told me how proud he was as a youth to play in the local band in his very small home town of Caledonia, Ohio. He said he played the bass horn, and would chuckle over recollections of his vociferous contribution to the ensemble.
Despite the fact that I cut out and preserved pictures of him in his band uniform, I have always been unable to visualize a youthful Warren Harding in any capacity. He always seemed to me too dignified to have ever been less than the statesman I first beheld; yet he said that he felt far more eminently important and dignified as a member of the Caledonia Band than as United States Senator from Ohio!
Shortly after this, Mr. Harding invited me to Washington. He met me at the station and announced zestfully that he had secured the apartment of a friend of his with whom he sometimes played cards. I registered at the New Ebbitt Hotel, and he called for me there. The apartment to which he took me was not far from the New Ebbitt and we walked. He told me on the way over that it was quite a "cute little apartment" and he guessed it was all right for him to borrow it, although he knew the fellow to whom it belonged would undoubtedly come after him for some political favor as a result. When we entered the apartment, a walk-up, on the second or third floor, it seemed so dark, and when we found the room untidy and things in quite a mess, poor Mr. Harding was more than embarrassed. "Really, Nan, it is quite a nice place when it is fixed up," he apologized, and I felt so sorry for him in his embarrassment. He never borrowed it again.
In January of 1919 Theodore Roosevelt died. Mr. Harding came over with many other notables to attend the funeral. I met him at the Biltmore Hotel. A good many of his friends and colleagues were standing about the lobby, looking very dignified and important in their formal clothes and top-hats. How stunning Mr. Harding looked! That time and once in the White House on Sunday morning were the only occasions on which I ever saw him "dressed up." We dined at the Biltmore that evening, and as we passed through the aisle of tables in a dining-room which sparkled with atmosphere under glittering candelabra, I heard a woman say, "There goes Harding!" I told him this and he identified her as a friend with whom he sometimes played billiards in Washington.