Will wrote about Calvin Coolidge today (a welcome respite from his usual whining) and offered this anecdote:
When President and Mrs. Coolidge were being given simultaneous but separate tours of a chicken farm, Grace asked her guide whether the rooster copulated more than once a day. “Dozens of times,” she was told. “Tell that to the president,” she said.
When told, Coolidge asked, “Same hen every time?” When the guide said, “A different one each time,” the president said: “Tell that to Mrs. Coolidge.”
And this was Coolidge too:
In 1924, after the lingering illness and death of his 16-year-old son from blood poisoning, Coolidge demonstrated . . . the eloquence of reticence: “When he was suffering he begged me to help him. I could not.”
Two small glimpses into the inner life of a man I’ve never even been curious about – he sounds worth knowing.