1912 was a good year, despite a blizzard touted as the ‘worst since’86’ (it may have
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been; I don’t remember the ’86 blizzard too clearly). It was a campaign year, with a
noisy three-sided race, Mr Taft running for re-election, Teddy Roosevelt at outs
with his former protégé Mr Taft and running on his own `Bull Moose’ (Progressive
Republican) ticket, and Professor Wilson of Princeton, now Governor of his state,
running on the Democratic ticket.
That last was a surprise outcome to an unbelievable month-long convention in which
it seemed for days that Missouri’s favourite son, Mr Champ Clark, Speaker of the
House, would be nominated. Mr Clark led for twenty-seven ballots and had a clear
majority on several but not the two thirds majority the Democrats required. Then Mr
Wilham Jennings Bryan made a bargain with Dr Wilson, to be named Secretary of State,
and Governor Wilson was nominated on the forty-sixth ballot after many of the
delegates had gone home.
I followed all this in the Star with deep interest as I had read Dr Wilson’s
monumental (eighteen volumes!) History of the American People, borrowing it a volume
at a time from the Kansas City Public Library. But I did not mention my interest to
my husband as I suspected that he favoured Colonel Roosevelt.
The election day was on the fifth but we did not learn the outcome at once – three
days I think it was. Woodrow was born Monday afternoon the eleventh at 3.0 p.m., and
arrived squalling. Betty Lou midwifed me; as usual I was too fast for my doctor and
this time Briney was at work, as I had told him that it couldn’t be sooner than the
end of that week.
Betty Lou said, `Have you picked a name for this one?’
I said, ‘Yes. Ethel.’
She held the baby up. `Take another look; that name doesn’t match this tassel;
better cave it. Why don’t you name him after our new President? That should give him
a running start.’
I don’t remember what I said as Brian arrived about then, Betty Lou having
telephoned him. She greeted him at the door with, `Come meet Woodrow Wilson Smith,
President of , the United States in 1952.’
Sounds good.’ Brian marched into our bedroom, imitating a brass band. The name
stuck; we registered it with the Foundation and with the County.
When I thought it over, the name pleased me. I wrote a note to Dr Wilson, telling
him of his namesake and saying that I was praying for the success of his
administration. I received back, first, a note from Mr Patrick Tumulty,
acknowledging my letter and saying that it was being brought to the attention of the
President Elect ‘but you will understand, Madam, that recent events have flooded him
with mail. It will be several weeks before all of it can be answered personally.’
Shortly after Christmas I did receive a letter from Dr Wilson, thanking me for
having honoured him in the naming of my son. I framed it and had it for years. I
wonder if it is still in existence somewhere on time line two?
The 1912 Presidential campaign had been fought on the issue of the high cost of
living. The Smith family was not suffering but prices, food prices especially, were
indeed rising – while as usual the farmers were complaining that they were not
receiving even cost-of-production prices for what they grew. This may well have been
so – I recall that wheat was less than a dollar a bushel.
But I did not buy wheat by the bushel; I bought food at a local grocery store and
from my huckster and milkman and so forth. Again Brian asked me if I needed a raise
in household allowance.
‘Possibly,’ I answered. ‘We are getting by, but prices are going up. A dozen
freshly-gathered eggs cost five cents now, and so does a quart of grade A. The
Holsum Bread Company is talking about changing from two sizes at a nickel and a dime
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to two sizes at ten cents and fifteen cents. Want to bet that this does not mean a