Free Theodore Rex by Edmund Morris Page A

slow that the procession did not crest Capitol Hill until shortly before eleven. A small, familiar figure awaited Roosevelt and Taft at the foot of the Senate steps: that of Philander Knox, exuding triple dignity as Senator, Secretary of State-designate, and chairman of the congressional welcoming committee. He led the way to the President’s Room, where a final bureaucratic duty awaited Roosevelt: the signing of a pile of bills that had been passed overnight. The Sixtieth Congress and he were going out together. There had been precious little else they had done in tandem over the last couple of years.
    Roosevelt’s entire Cabinet was on hand to witness this ritual. Scrupulous to the last, he handed each bill out to the appropriate officer for approval before taking it back and writing his name. Taft, meanwhile, played host to politicians drifting in to pay their respects.
    Toward noon, the flow of visitors slowed. Roosevelt finished his work and went to join Taft. They chatted and laughed with much of their old warmth, but a sense of strain was apparent between them. They soon ran out of conversation, and sat side by side in silence until the President got up to bid farewell to a few departing guests.
    One of them was Captain Butt, already transferred to Taft’s service, and not entirely happy about it. He choked as he tried to say good-bye.
    “It isn’t good-bye,” Roosevelt said to soothe him. “We will meet again,and possibly you will serve me in a more important capacity than the one you have now.”
    Butt had little time to ponder this strange remark, for Vice President Fairbanks had come through the door with Sherman and announced that the “march” would begin at once.
    The hands of the grandfather clock stood at 12:12 as Taft and Roosevelt followed their assigns down the corridor and into the Senate Chamber, where a sudden roar greeted them.

    OBSERVERS WERE STRUCK by Roosevelt’s immobile concentration as his successor was sworn in. Those who did not know him thought that the stony expression and balled-up fists signaled trouble ahead for Taft. His sister Bamie, describing the scene to Corinne Roosevelt Robinson afterward, got only “the most wonderful feeling of dignity and strength, and people who had really not cared for him suddenly realized what a great man he was.” In fact, he was making a special effort not to distract attention from the new President of the United States. An occasional curt nod indicated his approval of points made in Taft’s subsequent speech.
    Roosevelt’s fabled vigor was apparent only at the end, when he bounded out of his seat and ran up the steps of the rostrum to shake Taft by the hand. The two men embraced briefly, then stood talking, their hands on each other’s shoulders.
    “There was not a dry eye in the place,” Bamie wrote, “and everyone’s throat contracted; as he said good-bye before anyone realized what was happening he went down the steps from the speakers desk and bowing and smiling went out of the little side door.… It was the simplest most dramatic exit imaginable & left the whole packed Senate with a tremor going through it.”

    THE SNOW HAD stopped falling during the ceremony, and Roosevelt found a large, boisterous crowd of well-wishers waiting for him when he emerged onto the plaza outside. Mounted police tried to hold them back as they surged and roared, “Good-bye, Mr. President!” It was no longer his title, but they were clearly unwilling to give it to another.
    William Loeb, Jr., was on hand (as so often before, starting at North Creek in the Adirondacks!) to escort Roosevelt to his train. A drab honor guard of about a thousand New York County Republicans formed a rectangle about the carriage and led the way toward Union Station, to thumping band music, while the crowd followed. The general mood was festive, but when the band segued into “Auld Lang Syne,” a sudden valedictory pall descended.Thousands of voices swelled the chorus, and