It reads more like a notice on the back of a hotel room door than an amendment to the US Constitution. “The terms of the President and Vice President shall end at noon on the 20th day of January.” Yes, despite the opulence and grandeur of this five-star inn on Pennsylvania Avenue, there’s no provision for a late check-out. Noon, as prescribed by Section 1 of the 20th Amendment, is the firm check-out time – no exceptions. So, next Tuesday at noon EST, the 43rd guest will depart and the 44th will arrive.
I was fortunate enough to work on Capitol Hill and witness this transition of power twenty years ago. Other than the day I met my wife in the Russell Senate Office Building, inauguration day probably ranks as the most memorable during my time in DC (though, now that I think about it, seeing the Cowboys play the Redskins at RFK ranks right up there too). The city was electric. Party affiliation didn't matter. Everyone was caught up in the moment.
I attended the swearing-in ceremony of George H.W. Bush. I saw Ronald Reagan board a helicopter and depart the Capitol grounds for the final time. I watched the parade travel down Pennsylvania Avenue. I went to two inaugural balls and several smaller parties. I heard Stevie Ray Vaughn perform (it was the first and, sadly, only time I saw him play). I even witnessed - and I’m guessing this is the only time in US history - a sitting president being announced, not by the familiar melody of Hail to the Chief, but rather to the trumpet vibrato of Soul Finger. Let me repeat that: Soul Finger - as in the Bar Kays and Stax Records and the Memphis Sound. George H.W. Bush came out to Soul Finger. It was surreal. To this day, that ranks as one of the greatest things I've ever seen. As far as memories go, those are definitely some I will always treasure.
Inauguration festivities, particularly the official balls and parties, seem to get more extravagant every season. Dolley Madison staged the first official ball in 1809 when 400 people paid $4 a pop to celebrate her husband's triumph. From those humble beginnings, minus a few exceptions in times of war or uncertainty, the balls and parties have grown in number, size, exuberance and popularity. It's probably no surprise that President Clinton had the most parties with 14 official balls for his second term, while President-elect Obama is expected to attend 10 next week.
But as far as parties go, there is one infamous shindig in a league of its own. One filled with so much revelry and unruly behavior that the President had to ask Congress for money to repair the things that were damaged and broken. One that is unlikely to ever be rivaled again.
It had been a bitter campaign with allegations of murder, bigamy, adultery and prostitution. It was a campaign in which one candidate was derided as an elitist, a Yankee and, yes, even a pimp. It was a campaign in which the other candidate was assailed as a lowbrow, a murderer and an adulterer. It was the campaign of 1828 that pitted John Quincy Adams against Andrew Jackson. In the end, it was Andy Jackson's image as a champion of the common people that pushed him to victory.
Prior to Jackson, inauguration activities had been reserved primarily for the Washington elite and East Coast landowners - genteel affairs with coffee, biscuits and polite conversation. But Old Hickory wasn't exactly the coffee & biscuit type. Neither were his supporters. An estimated 30,000 people from the South and West converged on Washington to witness the inauguration and, well, have a good time. The scene was probably akin to a modern-day tailgate party minus the RVs.
Following the swearing-in and inaugural address, the newly-elected President was mobbed by supporters and well wishers who followed him back to the White House for a reception. The staff literally rolled out the barrels – barrels of orange punch spiked with rum. The revelers were all too eager to imbibe. In short order, several of the barrels were knocked over, glasses were broken and party scum covered the White House floor.
It got so crowded that in order to leave you had to crawl through the nearest window. After several hours and fearing for the President’s safety, the staff ushered President Jackson out of the building and to a nearby hotel, but that didn't stop the party. Chaos reigned. In frustration, the remaining staff passed ice cream and barrels of liquor out the window in an effort to shift the party to the outside lawn. It worked.
When all was said and done, the White House looked more like a roadhouse after a brawl. Fine china and crystal was shattered and strewn all over the floor. The carpet was sticky and damaged beyond repair. Upholstered furniture was mud-caked and filthy. In a letter to a friend, Washington socialite and writer Margaret Bayard Smith, who was accustomed to the coffee & biscuit crowd, called the party "a rabble, a mob...scrambling, fighting, romping…ladies fainted, men were seen with bloody noses, and such a scene of confusion as is impossible to describe.” Margaret had obviously never been to 6th Street.
Margaret Smith acknowledged something else though. Something beyond her shock and outrage. In concluding her letter, she wrote "it was the People's Day, and the People's President, and the People would rule." In a strange way, what the party represented was democracy – a celebration of government by the people.
Next week's inauguration represents those same principles. There’s something comforting about witnessing a relatively unchanged tradition that has been carried out 56 times since George Washington took the oath of office in 1789. Through wars, conflicts, economic uncertainties, tragedies and other perils, this peaceful transfer of power has survived. It serves to unify the nation. It inspires us to meet the complex challenges facing the world. It validates the principles of democracy – of government by the people. And that’s something worth celebrating - rum punch or not.
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