than I have ever known to fall to the lot of others.”
TR was devastated. Two entries in his diary showed his anguish. In one, he wrote a large X and a solitary sentence stating, “The light has gone out of my life.” Alice’s death left him with a large void that he sought to fill in the only way he knew how: work.
In a second entry, he wrote, “On February 17th I christened the baby Alice Lee Roosevelt. For joy or for sorrow my life has now been lived out.”
Burying Alice—But Not the Memories
The family buried Alice and Mittie at a double funeral on February 15, 1884. The ladies were laid to rest together in Greenwood Cemetery. The epitaph on Alice’s grave reads, “For joy or for sorrow my life has now been lived out.”
In a way, TR’s reaction to the double deaths was out of the ordinary. He tried to erase his memories of Alice by destroying any photographs and all correspondence that made any reference to her. He vowed to never speak of her again, even to her namesake and his daughter. For the most part, he managed not to.
TR even declared that he did not want to hear the name “Teddy” again. He could not escape the nickname, though, since he is forever connected with the “teddy bear,” which his name popularized. Inadvertently, the “teddy bear” became one of the world’s most beloved toys.
In November 1902, TR went on a bear hunt to Mississippi, but game was difficult to find. Eventually, the hunting dogs cornered a small black bear. Party members asked TR to kill the bear, but he felt it was unsporting and refused. Based on this story, artist Clifford K. Berryman of the Washington Post created an amusing cartoon called “Drawing the line in Mississippi.” The cartoon delighted readers and prompted several toy makers to manufacture stuffed toy bears named for the president.
Breaking the Rule
TR’s refusal to talk about Alice deprived the world of a great deal of knowledge about the happy life they lived together. (Her name is not even mentioned in his autobiography.) But there was a major obstacle to forgetting Alice Hathaway Lee Roosevelt altogether: his newborn daughter, Alice.
TR broke his self-enforced rule not to speak of Alice Hathaway Lee Roosevelt after her death. He wrote of her in a private moment:
She was beautiful in face and form, and lovelier still in spirit; As a flower she grew, and as a fair young flower she died. Her life had been always in the sunshine; there had never come to her a single sorrow; and none ever knew her who did not love and revere her for the bright, sunny temper and her saintly unselfishness. Fair, pure, and joyous as a maiden; loving, tender, and happy. As a young wife; when she had just become a mother, when her life seemed to be just begun, and when the years seemed so bright before her—then, by a strange and terrible fate, death came to her. And when my heart’s dearest died, the light went from my life forever .
Enter Bamie
Young Alice was a constant reminder to TR of his first wife. He needed someone to take care of her. He turned to his family once again, as he so often did in times of trouble. His sister Anna stepped in—and TR stepped out.
The social conventions of the time suggested that a widower was not the proper person to raise a young daughter. Even though TR was not above breaking convention on occasion, he chose not to in this regard. Enter Bamie.
Bamie was twenty-nine years old at the time. She may not have known much about child rearing, but she did know that her younger brother needed help, which she provided to his everlasting gratitude.
Bamie had to walk a tightrope with regards to Alice Hathaway Lee Roosevelt’s death and TR’s refusal to speak publicly of her or let anyone mention her name in his presence. Young Alice did ask him occasionally about her mother, but he always referred her to Bamie. As a result, Alice learned about her mother from her aunt, who became her confidante.
Leaving New York
While Bamie