Other White House Hostesses

Overview

Some of the most interesting and influential women who served as First Ladies were not wives of presidents but other family members. From the very first, the position of the president’s spouse was viewed as so important that the absence of a wife meant a vacuum had to be filled. In the course of time, daughters, sisters, nieces, and daughters-in-law would be called on to serve, including, in the case of Jane Pierce, her friend and aunt by marriage. This filling of the First Lady’s shoes was not always cheerfully done, for Grover Cleveland’s sister Rose Elizabeth Cleveland did her share of grumbling, but it was a need all saw as important.

In some cases, the presidents were widowers, such as Thomas Jefferson, Martin Van Buren, Andrew Jackson, and Chester A. Arthur. Some had wives who were invalids, such as James Monroe, John Tyler, and Andrew Johnson. Two were bachelors: James Buchanan and, for one and one-half years, Cleveland. One president, Zachary Taylor, had a wife who refused to act as First Lady and had her daughter step in for her. Among deaths, ill health, and personal inclinations, the role of the First Lady would be seen as one that was necessary, and the vacancy would be filled by a variety of very different but capable women, ranging in age from the eighteen-year-old Mary Abigail Fillmore to the sexagenarian Abby Kent Means, Jane Pierce’s aunt. Harriet Lane, James Buchanan’s niece, was ranked as the equal of the other First Ladies who were wives, but all the other surrogates would be viewed as either footnotes to the president’s administration or secondary to the president’s wife.

The Early Years of the Republic (1800-1829)

A widower since the death of his wife in 1782, Jefferson would be able to turn to his two daughters, Maria Epps and Martha (Patsy) Randolph. The women’s activities on their own plantations would not allow their being in the newly created Federal City for great lengths of time, however. Maria Jefferson Epps died in 1804, but Patsy, with whom Jefferson had a very close relationship, was able to relieve her father’s loneliness when she could. She had a difficult time at home, with an abusive husband and a large family, which took a heavy toll on her health. The red-haired, large-boned Patsy was clearly her father’s daughter; she shared his love of reading and nature. Patsy would be her father’s closest companion in his last years and would outlive him by only ten years, dying in 1836.

With his daughters’ sparse presence in Washington, D.C., Jefferson was fortunate that he could turn to Dolley Madison (1768-1849), the wife of Secretary of State James Madison. One of the reasons Dolley Madison was such a remarkable First Lady in her own right was the years she had been in training, serving as hostess for President Jefferson. She learned her strengths and weaknesses, how to balance her tendency toward flamboyance with her strong political sense, and how to keep a room circulating and to win over friends for her quiet and often overlooked husband and his administration. The eight years serving as a surrogate First Lady only aided Dolley’s capabilities when her husband ascended to the presidency in 1809.

After the departure of Dolley Madison from Washington in 1817, a very different First Lady stepped onto the stage, Elizabeth Kortright Monroe. Seen as haughty and reclusive, Elizabeth faced a number of problems. First, anyone would have found it almost impossible to follow the path of Dolley Madison. Second, and more important, Elizabeth was often and mysteriously ill. The illness she suffered would be whispered about and many speculations made, but the truth was alarming enough. Elizabeth suffered from epilepsy—what then was called the “falling sickness.” Few knew, but the many who disliked Elizabeth Monroe did so for her seeming coldness, her refusal to return calls, and her foreign-like elegance. They knew nothing about the real illness behind the mask. To modern minds, Elizabeth’s insistence on secrecy seems excessive, but one needs to remember the stigma attached to someone who suffered seizures of any kind. Elizabeth knew this and accordingly paced herself and her slim reserves of energy to be able to do what she could.

Elizabeth also turned over many of her duties to her elder daughter, Eliza Monroe Hay (1786-1840). Educated at Madame Campan’s school in Paris, where among her classmates were lifelong friend Hortense de Beauharnais (Empress Josephine’s daughter, later queen of Holland) and Napoleon’s youngest sister, Caroline Murat, Eliza Hay breathed a more rarefied air than most in the young capital. She often offended people with her air of superiority. Secretary of State John Quincy Adams referred to her as “the human fire-brand.” While taking over duties for her mother, Eliza often created “situations” for her parents by making receptions exclusive and overly royal in tone. Possibly the biggest offense committed by Eliza was in the matter of the marriage of her younger sister Maria to Samuel Gouverneur in 1820, when no political allies (or enemies) were invited to the White House ceremony. While Maria had her quiet wedding, Eliza’s mistakes created ripples in Washington society that caused no end of damage to her mother’s image and her own.

After the Monroes’ departure from the White House, which was decorated to reflect their years in Paris, they retired to Oak Hill, Virginia, where Eliza remained close to her parents. By the time of Elizabeth Monroe’s death on September 23, 1830, and James Monroe’s on the following July 4, Eliza was a widow. She cut ties with the United States and returned to Europe, where she died.

The Antebellum Years (1829-1865)

There is no doubt that death, ill health, and the reclusive views of proper womanhood had a tremendous impact on the roles of the First Ladies. Death was an ever-present member of nineteenth century families, who could virtually count on losing a number of children, and in some cases, none would survive. Illness and permanent invalidism would also play a dominant role during the years leading to the Civil War. In between the sudden, but not surprising, death of Rachel Jackson after her husband’s election in 1828 and the arrival of Eliza McCardle Johnson at the White House in 1865, there was an unprecedented number of surrogate First Ladies. This reflects the society of the 1820’s to the 1860’s, which saw so much illness among women. In some cases, the illnesses of a president’s wife led to death, such as that of Letitia Tyler, or chronic weakness, such as that of Abigail Fillmore, and necessitated a substitute.

Knowing his wife’s discomfort in urban society, Andrew Jackson had made it a point to have his secretary, Andrew Jackson Donelson, as close to him as possible. Not only was Donelson the nephew of Jackson’s beloved Rachel; he was also married to a Donelson niece, Emily Tennessee Donelson (1807-1836). Both were deeply loved by Rachel Jackson, and Rachel’s death on December 22, 1828, meant that Emily Donelson would serve in her aunt’s place. This she would do, along with Sarah Yorke Jackson, who was married to the Jacksons’ adopted son Andrew Jackson, Jr., for almost the entire eight years of Andrew Jackson’s presidency.

Emily’s own early death from consumption came in 1836, following a brief banishment from the White House. Only twenty-one when she moved into the President’s House, Emily Donelson struck everyone with her beauty, especially her titian-colored hair, piled high, and her poise. Well educated and elegant, Emily was capable of ruling the White House and making life easier for Jackson. She was, however, no easy mark, for she made it clear to the president in his heated defense of Peggy O’Neal Eaton, the wife of the secretary of war, that Emily, for one, would not receive Mrs. Eaton, whose reputation was not a good one. (Nor would Floride Calhoun, wife of the vice president, or future First Lady Sarah Polk.) Emily would return to her home in Tennessee, only returning to Washington when wiser heads (Martin Van Buren, for one) prevailed on the stubborn president to send the Eatons to Madrid. In 1834, Emily gave birth to Rachel Jackson Donelson in the White House. Little Rachel and her siblings lightened the lonely life of Andrew Jackson, who would be grieved by Emily’s early death.

The beautiful wife of Andrew Jackson, Jr., Sarah Yorke Jackson (?-1887) was from an old Philadelphia Quaker family and was married there in 1831. She spent much of the Jackson years in the White House taking care of her children and the president. “She has been more than a daughter to me,” Andrew Jackson later said. Quiet and stately, with dark hair and eyes, Sarah had considerable presence and ability. She would care for Jackson until his death in 1845 and stay on at Jackson’s home, the Hermitage, until her own death in 1887.

Martin Van Buren’s wife, Hannah Hoes Van Buren, having died in 1819, was so shadowy a figure that her own sons could not remember if her name was Hannah or Anna. A widower for many years, Van Buren had no real need of a hostess; he was so polished in manner and managed all White House details so well that the absence of a hostess was little noted. He did have help from the recently widowed Dolley Madison, whose sharp eye took note of the fact that the president’s son and secretary, Abraham Van Buren, was a bachelor. Bringing her cousin, Sarah Angelica Singleton of Charleston, South Carolina, to Washington in 1837, Dolley was able to spark a romance between the two young people. Angelica Singleton had been educated in Philadelphia and had grown very beautiful, with languorous eyes, long black ringlets, and a beautiful smile—all captured in her White House portrait by Henry Inman, considered by Jackie Kennedy to be the White House’s handsomest portrait.

Married in 1838, Angelica and Abraham Van Buren honeymooned in Europe and, like Julia Tyler after her, Angelica returned with a severe case of “Queen Fever.” Among its symptoms were a desire to sit in a royal velvet chair on a dais of three steps and wear ostrich plumes. While not harmful in themselves, these trappings of “monarchial airs” at a time of political unrest would help sweep Martin Van Buren from the White House. While the Whigs delighted in portraying their candidate, William Henry Harrison, as a country fellow, living in a log cabin and swilling hard cider, they also presented President Van Buren as an epicure, eating off gold plates with gold silverware. His image in natty clothes was only reinforced by Angelica’s feathers, royal purple gowns, and her bevy of “ladies in waiting.” Though the fact of her having a child in the White House and losing it was forgotten, the image of “Queen Angelica” was remembered. This, along with other issues, ensured the defeat of Van Buren in 1840. Angelica and her husband lived in New York City, and she sympathized with the South in the Civil War, but she remained with her husband in New York. She would lose two of her sons early, but none of the four would carry on the name. She died in New York on December 29, 1878.

Because of Anna Harrison’s illness, her husband, William Henry Harrison, chose his widowed daughter-in-law, Jane Irwin Harrison (1806-1846), to accompany him to Washington. She, in turn, asked her widowed aunt, Jane Irwin Findlay (1769-1850), to aid her until Anna would be well enough to join them in the capital. These ladies were, as was Anna Harrison herself, very well educated and viewed the White House without many qualms. They had even ordered dresses from Paris for the social season, which would prove all too brief. Though Jane’s marriage to the alcoholic William H. Harrison II had not been long, she was much loved by her in-laws. Strangely enough, her husband’s younger brother John Scott Harrison would marry her younger sister Elizabeth, and they would in turn be the parents of future President Benjamin Harrison. The William Harrison White House saw little in the way of entertaining because of the president’s illness and death on April 4, 1841. The women would then return with the president’s body on the same train which had brought them all south several months before.

When John Tyler received the news of Harrison’s death, he was at home in Virginia. There would be no less than four hostesses during his stormy tenure in the White House. Letitia Christian Tyler, the new president’s beautiful but frail wife, had suffered a severe stroke in 1839 and had never fully recovered. Making only one public appearance (at her daughter Lizzie’s wedding) before her death on September 10, 1842, Letitia Tyler left First Lady duties in the capable hands of her daughter-in-law, Priscilla Cooper Tyler (1816-1889), wife of Robert Tyler. Priscilla was unusual both in terms of her capabilities and her life before her marriage. She had been a Shakespearean actress, whose father also was an actor, at a time when the stage and its celebrities were gaining social acceptance. Priscilla Tyler’s entrance into White House history marks the beginning of the House’s fascination with actors. Aided by Tyler’s daughters Lizzie and Letitia Semple, Priscilla proved to be extremely popular, but she did not willingly turn over her duties (nor would Letitia Tyler Semple) to the younger second Mrs. President Tyler, Julia Gardiner, whom John Tyler married in June, 1844.

The refusal of Margaret Taylor to take on any official duties of the First Lady made President Zachary Taylor turn to his youngest daughter, Mary Elizabeth, called “Miss Betty,” who was married to his aide de camp, Colonel W. W. Bliss. Mary Elizabeth Taylor Bliss (1828-1909) was educated in Louisiana by nuns and later sent to school in Philadelphia. She married Bliss in 1848. Of her older sisters, Sarah Knox Taylor had married future Confederate president Jefferson Davis against her parents wishes and had died some months later. Betty’s sister Ann Taylor Wood would help her during her time in the White House, which ended with their father’s death on July 9, 1850. Margaret Taylor died at her son Richard’s home in Louisiana in August, 1852. Betty, who married again after Bliss’s death, lived until 1909.

Abigail Fillmore was a woman of breeding, education, and intelligence but not one with a great deal of physical strength. Having broken her ankle some years before her husband, Millard Fillmore, became vice president, she was often forced to rest for days before a great dinner or reception. Fortunately for her, if she was not up to the festivities, she could turn to her cultured, multitalented daughter Mary Abigail Fillmore (1832-1854) to take her place. Like her mother, Mary Abigail was of a scholarly bent, and like her mother, she wanted to teach. She had earned a teaching certificate and in doing so had promised to teach the young of New York, something which she continued even after her father’s election to the vice presidency. However, after President Taylor’s death in July, 1850, she gave up her plans and moved into the White House to help her mother, the new First Lady. Educated at Miss Sedgwick’s in Massachusetts, Mary Abigail spoke Latin and French, read literature, played the piano and the harp, and like her mother and father, read anything and everything. She took her mother’s place whenever Abigail Fillmore was not well and helped with the creation of the White House library. For so young a girl (only eighteen when her father became president), she had an enviable reputation for her learning and musical abilities. One of her great joys was to meet Swedish singer Jenny Lind when Lind visited the White House in 1851. Sadly, First Lady Abigail Fillmore died a month after leaving the White House, from pneumonia she contracted at the inauguration of the new president, Franklin Pierce, as she stood in the slushy snow. Mary Abigail Fillmore died in July, 1854, of cholera, at age twenty-two.

The horrible death in a train crash of eleven-year-old Benjamin Pierce, the last to survive of three sons born to Franklin and Jane Pierce, just two months before his father’s inauguration (1853) left both parents bereft. Pierce’s love for “his dearest Jeanie” knew no bounds, but her obsession in grief, her long hours writing to her dead son, and her inability to face her duties forced the president-elect to find help, which was fortunately not far away. Though older by a generation than Jane Pierce, Abigail Kent had long been a family friend, even before she married Jane’s uncle Robert Means. Abigail Kent Means (1788-1857) proved to be a rock of quiet strength to the Pierces, both of whom she loved. She had long been a confidante to Jane and her older sister, Mary Appleton Aiken. During the first two years of the Pierce administration, the president either received the public alone or was assisted by Abby Means. Only occasionally would Jane Pierce make an appearance, though after January, 1855, her appearances became more regular, and Mrs. Means was able to spend some time with her family in Massachusetts. Her presence, however, was still required, and between her help and that of Varina Davis, the second wife of Secretary of War Jefferson Davis (and later First Lady of the Confederacy), the Pierces’ last two years, while not glamorous, were certainly more cheerful than the first two. Abigail Means died suddenly in the summer of 1857, some months after the Pierces departed the White House. Jane Pierce grieved that she was unable to be with her at the last, and Franklin Pierce wrote beautifully of her sterling character and personality.

Harriet Lane (1830-1903), President James Buchanan’s niece, filled the position of First Lady for her uncle. Buchanan was a lifelong bachelor. Young, blond, blue-eyed, and extremely well versed in social graces, Harriet made a mark on history, especially in that she championed the rights of American Indians, thus making her among the first First Ladies to take up a political cause.

The Gilded Age (1865-1901)

With the departure of Mary Lincoln from the White House on May 22, 1865, the new First Lady, Eliza McCardle Johnson, having suffered from consumption for years, would be unable to fulfill her duties. Accordingly, she turned for help to her eldest daughter, Martha Johnson Patterson (1828-1901), wife of Senator David T. Patterson. Martha was well educated, having attended the Visitation Convent in Georgetown during President James Polk’s term. After Martha’s marriage to Patterson in 1856, she spent much of her time helping her mother during Andrew Johnson’s long absences. Pretty and with fine features, Martha made it clear to acquaintances that they “were just plain folks from Tennessee” and further hoped that “not too much would be expected from them.” Aside from hosting a reception for Queen Emma of the Sandwich Islands and a birthday party for her husband, Eliza Johnson remained out of the public eye.

Martha, aided by her younger sister Mary Stover, proved to be capable, energetic, and a good housekeeper. She dusted off the portraits of Van Buren, Tyler, Polk, Fillmore, and Pierce and had them placed on the walls of the ground level, thrilling her father, who had a deep love of history. The Johnsons’ grandchildren had a wonderful time, and tranquillity was maintained even through the tribulations of President Andrew Johnson’s impeachment. Martha’s husband, Senator Patterson, was able to report to his father-in-law the daily war being waged against him by both the Senate and the House during Johnson’s impeachment.

With the death of James Abram Garfield on September 19, 1881, and the departure from the White House of Lucretia Garfield with her children, it was the widower Chester Alan Arthur who assumed the presidency. His wife, Ellen Herndon Arthur, had died in January of 1880, and he mourned her for the rest of his life. He was a cultured, refined man with expensive tastes, but knowing a hostess was going to be needed, he was fortunate to be able to turn to his youngest sister, Mary Arthur McElroy (1842-1917). Educated at Emma Willard’s Seminary for Girls, Mary had married John E. McElroy, a businessman, when she was nineteen. She settled in Albany, New York, and became a mother to four. The death of her sister-in-law Ellen in 1880 filled her with grief because they had been friends and had enjoyed a mutual love of music. Mary took her brother’s daughter, Nell, under her wing after Arthur’s election to the presidency. Mary, called Molly, would spend six months in Washington (three in the fall, three in the spring) and six months in Albany. She was joined by her two daughters, and because she was not regarded as the president’s official hostess (as Harriet Lane had been), it was possible for Molly to return calls and make private invitations without disturbing Washington’s strict forms of courtesy. She loved to surround herself with young faces, and her receptions were always popular. Her last reception, in February of 1885, was attended by thousands, and it would be the largest affair seen at the White House until modern times. With the good wishes of Rose Elizabeth Cleveland, the new hostess, Molly returned to her home in Albany, where she lived until her death in 1917.

Like James Buchanan, Grover Cleveland entered the White House as a bachelor. Knowing his own gruff nature, Cleveland realized he would need a hostess to serve with him at White House receptions. While closer to his sister Mrs. Mary Allen Hoyt, he would actually call on the services of his younger sister, Rose Elizabeth Cleveland (1846-1918), who was then a teacher and a writer, well versed in Latin and Greek. She had just published a book on the poetry of George Eliot, earning a then-huge sum of twenty-five thousand dollars. Being a well-known lecturer, Rose did not look forward to being a mere ornament at the White House and hoped that her brother would marry soon. Her sister Mary had helped out when Cleveland was governor of New York, but now that he was president, it was Rose’s turn. With the publication of her book, her serious state of mind, and her grasp of history, science, Latin, Greek, and rhetoric, Rose was seen at the time as a modern woman, who, it was said, when greeting the public would conjugate Greek verbs in her head. She was a known supporter of temperance and had a great deal of criticism while sitting at any table where wine was being served. She knew the difference, however, between the public and the private roles. After the marriage of Grover and Frances Cleveland in June, 1886, Rose returned to her literary and academic life. She would later say how much she had enjoyed her position and what a unique chance it had been to meet the American people. Later she would live in Italy with another woman, dying there in 1918 from a fever contracted from nursing soldiers in World War I.

Due to the continual ill health of Caroline Harrison, some of the official duties of that administration fell on Benjamin and Caroline Harrison’s daughter Mary Harrison McKee (1858-1930). Like her mother, Mamie McKee was musical, artistic, and capable. A young mother of two, Mamie would spend much of the four years with her parents in the White House, visited by her businessman husband, J. R. McKee. After the long illness and death of Caroline’s oldest sister, Elizabeth Scott Lord, in early December, 1889, Caroline asked Mamie to receive in her place (out of respect for Mrs. Lord’s death) in January, 1890. This started a storm of criticism: It was an insult to the wife of vice president Levi P. Morton and an insult to Harriet Blaine, the wife of Secretary of State James G. Blaine. The uproar caused Caroline to put aside her mourning and resume her role. This was only the first of a series of sharp rebukes that caused her a great deal of anguish. As Caroline’s health gave way, Mamie would be called more and more to the foreground. Having had a good education in Indiana and Pennsylvania, Mamie also gave dancing lessons at the insistence of her mother, who had no patience with the ban on dancing, good Presbyterian as she was. Both Caroline and her daughter delighted in restoring dancing to the White House, which had been banned since 1845. Mamie stayed close to her mother, whose death on October 25, 1892, forced her to take over the First Lady’s duties until the end of her father’s administration. Her father’s remarriage to her mother’s niece in 1896 brought a split between father and daughter. Mamie lived in Greenwich, Connecticut, until her death in 1930.

The Modern Age

The twentieth century brought few examples of surrogate First Ladies, except for brief times during the Taft administration and that of Woodrow Wilson.

In May of 1909, Nellie Taft suffered a massive stroke on board her yacht; it would be a year before she recovered enough to resume her duties as First Lady. At times, her very capable, intelligent, and socially conscious daughter Helen Taft Manning (1891-1987) filled in, aided by Mrs. Taft’s sisters from Ohio, Jennie Herron Anderson and Maria Herron. Nellie was too forceful a woman to allow anyone to supercede her. Her own determination and her husband’s help had her back in the foreground by 1911. Helen Taft Manning would go on to teach at Bryn Mawr College, of which she later became president.

Between the time of Ellen Wilson’s death in August, 1914, and President Woodrow Wilson’s remarriage to Edith Galt in December of 1915, Wilson’s cousin Helen Woodrow Bones took over some of the duties, helping the president’s daughter, Eleanor Wilson McAdoo, whose husband was Wilson’s secretary of the treasury. However, since much of the time between Ellen Wilson’s death and Woodrow’s marriage to Edith Galt was spent in official mourning, there was little in the way of duties that were needed.

For the rest of the twentieth century, aside from a First Lady’s illness (such as Florence Harding’s in 1922), there was little need for an official hostess other than presidents’ wives. It is interesting to note that a real absence was felt when Hillary Rodham Clinton closed up the First Lady’s office when she began her Senate campaign in 2000. Chelsea Clinton would step in for her mother, but when Hillary won the Senate race, she returned to her husband’s side to assume her duties as First Lady.

Significance

It should be noted that without these “hostesses,” a number of presidential administrations would have no representation among the First Ladies, which in turn forces one to reexamine what exactly is meant by the term “First Lady.” Looking at the actions of these sisters, nieces, daughters, and daughters-in-law, one realizes they played as important a role as did the wives of the presidents. In the absence of a presidential spouse, these women were forced to step onto the stage of the White House and, in doing so, left their marks on history.

Bibliography

Anthony, Carl Sferrazza. First Ladies: The Saga of the Presidents’ Wives and Their Power. Vol. 1. New York: William Morrow, 1990. Details important events and the impact of presidential wives throughout U.S. history.

Watson, Robert P. First Ladies of the United States: A Biographical Dictionary. Boulder, Colo.: Lynne Rienner, 2001. The book offers profiles and biographical information on every First Lady to date, including Laura Bush, and provides comparative facts on all the presidential spouses.

Watson, Robert P. The Presidents’ Wives: Reassessing the Office of First Lady. Boulder, Colo.: Lynne Rienner, 2000. Analysis includes bibliographical references and an index.