Presidential House Retrospective: At Home in Springfield

In which the author reminisces on previous presidential house visits. This post chronicles my first ever presidential house visit in 2000.

My first experience with a presidential home was Abraham Lincoln's family home in Springfield, IL. I was eight years old, and my family was in the middle of our Great Tour of the Midwest. We were making the rounds at various spots where our both our living and dead relatives lived. That summer my brother and I learned a great deal about our family history, so it only seemed fitting to fit in some national history as well.

I remember very little about the house itself. It was a cheery yellow color and surrounded by a short fence. The only thing I distinctly recall about the interior was how small the bed was. My image of Lincoln was as more giant than man, and I wondered how such a tall man fit in such a short bed.

What made a real impression on me was Lincoln's tomb, which we visited after we toured the house. The tomb itself is surrounded by an elaborate monument with a balcony and massive statues of horses and soldiers and, of course, the man himself. It is a dramatic structure somewhat at odds with my vision of Honest Abe, the folksy lawyer turned president. It was only later that I recognized that the tomb celebrated Lincoln the martyr to unity and liberty. The problem with martyrdom is that the person's death becomes the climax of your life, with no falling action so what they did in life is marginalized. His humor and intelligence are not present at his tomb like they were in his house.

We were informed that there would be a color guard salute in an hour, and afterward we would be able to go down into the tomb itself. We did what most people with an hour to kill in a cemetery would do: we looked at some gravestones and speculated. I should note that as I child I visited a lot of cemeteries in order to visit various deceased relatives, distant or otherwise, and developed a love of cemeteries. So the prospect of an hour in an unfamiliar cemetery was not necessarily unwelcome.

As we wandered around the grounds, we came across a large mausoleum reminiscent of a beehive. It belonged to John R. Tanner, a former governor of Illinois. Although there was plenty of room inside the tomb, his two wives were buried next to him. From looking at the dates on the tombstones, my dad figured out that Tanner's second wife was significantly younger than him. That was the day I learned the term "trophy wife," and I was both repulsed and intrigued by the concept. I was apparently so taken by the idea that I wrote about it in my diary that night, in the style of a lurid melodrama, as only an eight year old can write a lurid melodrama. 

Transcript (glorious typos intact): 

"John R. Tanner was Governor of Illnois for 4 years. His wife, Laurretta, was peacful untill......They got in Divorce! Then John, had a Trophy wife! 2 years after they married, John died. He is all alone in a tomb shaped like a bee hive. His wives next to his tomb. Unlike Abe. His sons and wife were buried with him. John R. Tanner is now gone."

I recently looked up John R. Tanner on Wikipedia, purveyor of all knowledge. Turns out he was a pretty cool guy and not a soap opera villain. However, I noted with satisfaction that Wikipedia describes his second wife as "socially connected," which is just a nicer way of saying she was a trophy wife. So maybe my version of events was more accurate than I thought.

I learned an important lesson at Springfield-- history is a story. It can be reinterpreted and rewritten, erased and recovered. In my eight year old hands, John. R. Tanner was a lecherous sleazebag, and at Lincoln's tomb, our 16th president is raised to mythical levels.  Lincoln is a national hero deserving of grand tribute, and so his tomb is huge and grandiose to emphasize his importance, not necessarily to reflect his personality. I prefer the Lincoln who couldn't fit in his bed, a man too large for his world. My Lincoln was a gentle giant, whose humility belied a shrewd political mind and incredible strength of character. 

Also, his wife was buried with him, not next to him.