239: THE WORLD OF CALVIN COOLIDGE WAS ANYTHING BUT SILENT

Day four of our trip began when my photographer’s alarm went off in our room at the Mountain Sports Inn precisely at 6:00am. It was Wednesday June 7, 2023, and the weather forecast for the first part of the day in central Vermont was cool, overcast, and a chance for rain. We had numerous Calvin Coolidge sites scheduled for that morning, and a complete rainout would be unbearable – even though Bob Moldenhauer had stowed-away some wet weather gear in the Explorer.

When my two companions sat down in the lodge’s dining area for breakfast, with me standing comfortably in my camera case, we saw an indication that luck might be on our side in the Green Mountains. While that sign wasn’t necessarily a Kodiak moment, it certainly had Tom rushing to the window with his camera. For the second time in the past two years, my photographer and I saw a black bear while on a trip; and this one wasn’t too shy about trying to pilfer a pic-a-nic basket from the diner’s nearby dumpster.

Our breakfast, which was a bare minimum, continental variety, took longer than expected to finish due to our unexpected guest. Once they were done eating, my companions and I boarded our Explorer and headed south for a full morning of Calvin Coolidge sites. Since the buildings in the actual Coolidge historic district of Plymouth Notch didn’t open their doors to the public until ten o’clock, Tom and Bob decided to visit the cemetery first. After spending time at Coolidge’s gravesite, then they’d drive to the historic district to photograph the exterior of the buildings before they opened. I always like it when those two try to maximize our time.

After Tom completed the scenic 12-mile drive to the vicinity of Plymouth, Vermont, we headed down a narrow, paved highway which took us to Plymouth Notch Cemetery, which was serenely nestled in the shadow of Salt Ash Mountain. Luckily for us, there was a small area across from the burial ground where my photographer could get our vehicle safely off the road. It seemed great to finally make it back to the grave of our 30th President. My first trip to the small rural cemetery was on July 11, 2017, so it had been nearly six years in between visits. For Bob, however, it was his first-time visiting Coolidge sites of any kind or anywhere (except the White House), so Mongo had a definite spring in his step that morning. As for me, I had a spring in my neck!

When President Calvin Coolidge passed away at the age of 60 on January 5, 1933, he was laid to rest alongside his son, Calvin, Jr., two days later. It was an overcast, cold and damp January afternoon when six United States marshals carried the President’s coffin up the granite steps to the Coolidge plot. Then, as if by divine intervention, the sun broke through the clouds just as Reverend Penner offered a short prayer, which broke the dignified silence in the burial ground. When Penner’s prayer was finished, taps were sounded, and the entire graveside service was over. As I looked up from the roadside at the Coolidge family plot, I knew in my mind that the President would’ve approved of how quiet, yet dignified, his funeral service had been carried out. As a matter of fact, I believe ‘Silent Cal’ would’ve said just two words – “Well done”!

I thought it was ironic that it was an overcast, cool and damp June morning when Tom carried me up the sixteen granite steps where I posed for a handful of photos at the gravesite of President Coolidge. Next to the President’s plain, five-foot-tall headstone was the grave of his wife, Grace, who died at the age of 78 on July 8, 1957. Alongside Grace’s grave was the final resting place of their son, John, who lived into the 21st century. John Coolidge was 93 when he passed away on May 31, 2000. But it was the last of the nearly four identical Coolidge headstones, however, that really broke my heart; for that was where Calvin Coolidge, Jr. was laid to rest. The President’s two sons were playing tennis on the White House tennis courts on June 30, 1924 when Cal, Jr. developed a blister on one of his toes. The blister quickly developed into sepsis and a week later, on July 7th, the President’s youngest son, and namesake, was dead at the age of 16. The personal devastation and mental anguish caused by a child’s death would have to be unthinkable, yet Coolidge had to continue running the country after he buried his son.

I no more got settle into my camera case after we finished our visit at the Plymouth Notch Cemetery when I found myself standing in the middle of the Calvin Coolidge Historic Site. We had traversed the half-mile drive from the cemetery to the parking lot near the museum in about five minutes, which gave us about 45 minutes to photograph the historic buildings before they were opened to the public. As luck would have it, the three of us were the first ones there – or at least that’s what we thought.

There were four primary Coolidge sites of interest for my companions and me, plus the museum made five. We wanted to tour the Coolidge Homestead, the Union Christian Church, Calvin’s birthplace, and the Florence Cilley General Store, which was owned by Cal’s dad and connected to the birthplace.

As I stood at the corner of Messer Hill Road and Coolidge Memorial Road, I was afforded a glimpse back to the ‘Good Ol’ Days’ of 1923 – a time when Calvin Coolidge ascended to the Presidency following the death of President Harding on August 2nd of that year. Although the village of Plymouth Notch was an extremely small community, that hamlet was chock-full of history, and even more amazing people.

President Coolidge once talked about his love for his home state in an impromptu speech delivered at a train station in Bennington, Vermont on September 21, 1928. In that speech, Coolidge said in part: “Vermont is a state I love. It was here that I first saw the light of day; here I received my bride, here my dead lie pillowed on the loving breast of our everlasting hills. I love Vermont because of her hills and valleys, her scenery and invigorating climate, but most of all because of her indomitable people. If the spirit of liberty should vanish in other parts of the Union, it could all be replenished from the generous store held by the people of this brave little state of Vermont.”

As Coolidge’s words echoed through my mind, spoken in Calvin’s thick New England accent, suddenly, out of nowhere, I saw the President walk from the Union Christian Church to where Bob was standing across the street near the Coolidge Homestead. Were my eyes deceiving me? When my photographer carried me to where the two men were conversing, Mongo introduced the two of us to Calvin Coolidge – who turned out to be Tracy Messer, the Coolidge Ambassador and Administrator for the Calvin Coolidge Presidential Foundation. Messer, who has a striking resemblance to Coolidge, has portrayed our 30th President at a countless number of events around New England since 2017. I laughed to myself because the extra time my companions had to take exterior images of the historic buildings went by the wayside – but they couldn’t have spent that time more wisely. As a matter of fact, when Tracy held me in his hand near the porch of the Coolidge Homestead, it felt as though I was face to face with Calvin Coolidge at the house where he grew up and where he became President.

At ten o’clock, when the site officially opened to the public, the three of us were given the opportunity of a lifetime. Tracy asked us if we wanted to be the first visitors of the day in the boyhood home of Calvin Coolidge. Then Messer offered to give us a private tour of the Homestead, even though he’s not one of the official on-sight tour guides.

When we entered the world of John Calvin Coolidge, Jr., it was anything but silent. Messer stayed in character and guided us room by room through the first floor of the historic house that was built in 1872. Four years after its construction, Colonel John Coolidge (Calvin’s father) purchased the farmhouse and moved his family across the street from where they resided and where the future President was born. Calvin’s mother passed away in the home when he was 12 years old. Three years later, the future President moved out for good in 1887 at the age of 15 to attend school in Ludlow, Vermont, but he returned often to visit his father. The most historic visit came in 1923 when Vice President Coolidge was visiting his father in the home that still didn’t have electricity nor a telephone. When President Warren G. Harding unexpectedly died in San Francisco on August 2, 1923, a messenger named Winfred Perkins knocked on the home’s front door in the middle of the night and delivered the news to the Coolidge’s. Calvin got dressed, said a prayer, and walked downstairs from an upper-floor bedroom to the sitting room where he recited the Presidential Oath of Office at 2:47am on August 3rd. During the solemn ceremony, Coolidge placed his hand next to the family Bible as his father, who was a notary public and justice of the peace, administered the oath by the light of a kerosine lamp. A small group of observers had assembled in the room during the ceremony, including Cal’s wife, Grace Coolidge, and U.S. Representative Porter H. Dale. When the historic event was finished, the new President returned upstairs and went back to sleep.

I could never have imagined Tom, Bob, and I taking a private Presidential home tour with someone who looked and sounded like the President himself. In my mind, Tracy Messer was sent to us by the same divine entity that had the cop positioned at our point of uncertainty near the MacNaughton Cottage the previous day. But our precious time with Tracy wasn’t over just yet. Instead, the folksy and witty Coolidge impersonator showed us a whirligig, made by the President’s favorite son, Calvin Jr., while we made our way across Messer Road headed for the church. What was unbelievable in my mind was that whirligig was the exact one Cal Jr. had created. Today, it stood as an innocent memorial in the Carrie Brown Coolidge Memorial Garden, located directly across the road from the Homestead. As Tom held me aloft and I saw the historic whirligig in the garden, I couldn’t help but think about the young 16-year-old who had tragically passed away a week after playing tennis with his brother. I paused in silent reflection for a brief moment, only to shed a resin tear as I thought about his father, the President, grieving over the loss of his son inside the White House.

The Union Christian Church in Plymouth Notch was built in 1840 and dedicated two years later. According to Tracy, it was a non-denominational church which served the people of the tiny community and surrounding area. Some of those people were the Coolidge’s. When Messer led us inside the historic place of worship, he pointed out the Coolidge family pew near the front of church, which was designated by an American flag near a distant wall. Then, as though he could read my resin mind, Tracy asked Tom and Bob if they wanted to go closer so my photographer could set me in the Coolidge pew. That was like asking Jimmy Carter if he enjoyed eating peanuts.

When I stood in the pew, I immediately thought about young Calvin sitting there, perhaps half asleep. During those services, as his eyelids grew heavy, I wondered if the lad ever dreamed that someday he would be President of the United States. After I posed for several images in the pew, as well as on the pulpit, our tour guide led us back to the vestibule at the front entrance where something truly awe-inspiring happened. For the final time that morning, we saw Tracy Messer transform into Calvin Coolidge before our very eyes. Messer stood silently for a few moments, he adjusted his eyeglasses, then looked skyward as if he was drawing inspiration from Coolidge himself. Then Tracy recited the President’s “Brave Little State of Vermont” speech; word for word and from the heart, not from a script – which was exactly how Coolidge recited it on September 21, 1928. Messer’s words, spoken in Coolidge’s distinct New England accent, touched my resin heart, and it was without a doubt the most amazing five minutes I’ve ever spent listening to someone talk at a Presidential site.

When our time was finished inside the historic church, I was excited because I knew we were headed next door to visit the birthplace of Calvin Coolidge. But unfortunately, our talented and generous historian, who had been with us for the past two hours, couldn’t join us. Tracy said he needed to prepare material for an event he was scheduled to perform as President Coolidge the following week. After we bid farewell to our own personal Calvin Coolidge, the three of us headed towards the wooden two-story home where the 30th President took his first breath of air.

With no Tracy Messer to give us a private tour, and with the “official” tour guides assisting other visitors, my companions and I couldn’t get inside the birth home. Instead, the three of us headed to the front of the Florence Cilley General Store where Tom and Bob figured we’d wait for the next available tour. I posed for several images in front of the historic store, which was once owned by Colonel John Coolidge, before we headed inside. Once Tom carried me through the doors, I laughed to myself because the place looked like it hadn’t changed one iota since our first visit in 2017. On that trip, my photographer bought a bottle of Calvin Coolidge’s favorite soft drink called ‘Moxie’. Although he never intended to drink the pop, Tom placed the unopened bottle of Moxie in his Presidential collection where it resides today. But my photographer has spent the last six years wondering what the beverage tasted like. I knew he was apprehensive in 2017 because the store clerk said it tasted like a mixture of root beer and cough syrup; not a good combination for a guy who enjoys a cold bottle of Diet Coke. But as soon as we entered the store, my photographer sought out a cold bottle of Moxie from the vintage pop cooler in the corner. Seconds after he forced me to pose on the store’s counter alongside the bottle of Moxie, Tom used his personal 1970s ‘Gar’s Lounge’ bottle opener to remove the cap.

The next thing I heard after I was placed back in the camera case was the gulping of liquid, along with an occasional burp. Sure enough, my gluttonous photographer chugged the entire bottle of Moxie in record time. After he wiped his lips clean with the sleeve of his sweatshirt, Tom said it was one of the smoothest-tasting root beers he’s ever had. He also mentioned the pop wasn’t overly sweet, and it didn’t have an aftertaste, either. No wonder it was Calvin’s favorite soft drink.

The Florence Cilley General Store was built during the 1850s. By 1868, Colonel John Coolidge had become storekeeper – he and his wife Victoria lived in the two-story attached home behind the store. It was in that rustic house where John Calvin Coolidge, Jr. was born on July 4, 1872. To date, he’s the only President born on the Fourth of July. Four years after the birth of their son, the Coolidge’s welcomed a baby girl they named Abigail Grace – she was born on April 15, 1875. With his family doubling in size over the course of three years, John Coolidge moved his family across the street in 1876 to his newly purchased farmhouse. Around the time of Abigail’s birth, John bought the general store and entered into a partnership with his brother-in-law. Two years after he became a store’s owner, Coolidge sold his share of the business, although he continued to own the building until 1917.

During our time browsing around the store, Tom saw an antique telephone on the wall. Not wanting to miss a photo opportunity, my photographer hung me by my ponytail on the phone’s mouthpiece. And that wasn’t just an ordinary phone, at least not to me. Following the death of President Harding on August 2, 1923, officials called that same phone late in the night in an attempt to contact the Vice President, who was vacationing at his father’s home across the street. The Coolidge Homestead had no telephone, so the store’s phone was the closest. Unfortunately, Florence Cilley, the store’s owner in 1923, was asleep and didn’t hear the phone ring. That likely caused a panic in Washington.

While I was hanging around with, or on, the famous phone, Bob was busy making arrangements for the three of us to tour the birthplace home on a self-guided basis. The next thing I knew, the three of us had been granted permission to access the home via the narrow hallway at the back of the store, instead of waiting for the next available tour guide. Talk about another stroke of good luck! Although it would have been awesome to have visited the interior of the birthplace with Tracy Messer, a self-guided tour was the next best thing. We wouldn’t have any other visitors in our way, plus there was a chance I might get to pose on some furnishings which normally would be off-limits to bobble heads.

We had been inside the birth house for only a few minutes when Bob suggested I stand on the bed where President Coolidge was born. At first, I was stunned – mainly because there was a small chain which was strung across the doorway of the birth room. But seconds after Mongo unhooked the chain, I quickly found myself standing on the historic original bed where the President was born on July 4, 1872. Standing on the late 1800s quilt, I felt a huge connection with Calvin Coolidge. I think that instant bond was due to the fact Coolidge was born on the Fourth of July, and Thomas Jefferson had died on the Fourth. Whatever it was, I wanted to jump up and down on that bed and shout at the top of my resin lungs. But I stopped – there was no need to cause any suspicion from the storekeeper down the hallway, so I remained silent – like Cal.

When we finished our tour of the birthplace, Tom carried me up a steep flight of stairs to the second floor of the general store. It turned out the room I was standing in was used as President Coolidge’s Summer White House office whenever he was in town. Before Calvin’s Presidency, and likely after it, the large upper room was used as a dance hall. Although I posed for a few photos in that room, I wasn’t dancing whatsoever. I was disappointed our visit to historic Plymouth Notch had come to an end.

Then, just as I was about to hide out in my camera case and soak my sorrows in some Moxie residue, I overheard my companions as they talked about making the short walk from the general store to the Calvin Coolidge Museum. At first, I was skeptical. I wondered how many authentic artifacts a small place like that could have. But then I remembered what Tracy Messer had said about the original kerosine lamp and the Coolidge family Bible from the inauguration ceremony being on display there. Well spank my butt and call me Sally! That was all I needed to unkink the spring in my neck.

Upon our arrival at the museum, the first thing my two travel mates wanted to do was pay the $12 entry fee for their time at the site, even though we had already seen everything without paying in advance due to our early arrival. Even though the three of us knew Calvin Coolidge was very quiet, he was also very thrifty with his money. But that didn’t mean Tom and Bob, who are normally very cheap themselves, had to emulate the President’s frugalness at that moment. After all, the time we had spent with Tracy Messer was worth tenfold that amount.

Inside the museum, the first artifact I saw and posed with was a desk used by President Chester A. Arthur. Say what? Wasn’t this supposed to be a museum dedicated to Calvin Coolidge? Perhaps it was due to the fact that Arthur was a Vermonter, along with Cal. As I stood alongside the desk, I discovered it was more historical than I originally thought. That walnut and maple slant-top desk was used by Arthur at his home in New York City when he was inaugurated President following the death of James Garfield in 1881. According to the President’s family, Arthur signed the President Oath of Office at that desk.

While Chester Arthur’s desk was a pleasant surprise for me, the next artifacts I saw on display were the highlight of the entire place. I got an up-close and great look at the Coolidge family Bible and kerosine lamp used during the inauguration ceremony on August 3, 1924. Even though I had seen those two artifacts on the sitting room table at the Homestead during my 2017 visit, that room was fairly dark, and the priceless pieces were quite a distance away. But seeing the Bible and lamp at a close proximity made it feel like I was standing on the sitting room table during the inauguration ceremony.

We spent a little over 30 minutes in the museum, and during that time I saw a small handful of other Coolidge-related artifacts that I enjoyed as well. But instead of me talking about them, why don’t you take a look at my photographer’s images and see for yourself?

My companions and I left the museum and sat silently for a moment in our Explorer. No one needed to say a word, but maybe that was our tribute to ‘Silent Cal’. The past four hours in Plymouth Notch, Vermont had been one of the greatest mornings I’ve ever spent at any Presidential site in our country. But it was time to leave the Green Mountain State and head for the birthplace of Franklin Pierce in Hillsboro, New Hampshire, which was a short 60 miles away to the southeast.

As we headed out of the Calvin Coolidge Historic Site parking lot, and we left Plymouth Notch behind in our rearview mirror, I couldn’t help but think about the handful of amazingly friendly people we met there. No one spared a smile, or a friendly “hello”. The quiet village and its villagers were like Mr. Rogers and his neighborhood on steroids!

I’d like to remember Plymouth Notch the way President Calvin Coolidge, and Mr. Tracy Messer, described it best: “I love Vermont because of her hills and valleys, her scenery and invigorating climate, but most of all because of her indomitable people.”

** THIS POST IS DEDICATED TO TRACY MESSER FOR HIS TIME, DEVOTION, PASSION, AND FOR BEING OUR CALVIN COOLIDGE. THANK YOU, TRACY! **