Printed in the March 4, 2025 Daily Hampshire Gazette

Calvin Coolidge’s initial presidential inauguration will forever be unique in American history. He was vice president and vacationing at his father’s home in Vermont. Upon learning of the sudden death of President Harding, he was sworn in there on Aug. 3, 1923, in the wee hours of the morning. The ceremony took place in the living room of his father’s home, which had no electricity or phone service.

To add to the singularity of the event, the oath of office was administered by his father, who was a notary public. It was witnessed by a half-dozen people, including his wife, Grace, and it was an incredibly informal swearing-in event for someone assuming the presidency. (Years later it was revealed that federal court judge, Adolph Hoehling, had re-administered the oath to Coolidge n a private ceremony in Washington on Aug. 21, 1923.)

Since that night, Coolidge had shed the onus of being an accidental president by winning his own four-year term in the election of 1924. On March 4, 1925, just 19 months after his first inauguration, Coolidge underwent his second one with all the public formalities and celebrations associated with the assumption of the nation’s highest office. There is a photo of Coolidge seated in the back of a car with Kansas Sen. Charles Curtis, who would become vice president under Hoover. Coolidge looks quite pleased. In between the two men sits Grace Coolidge and she is beaming with her big smile that charmed Washington society and the nation.

On this occasion, Coolidge was given the oath of office by Chief Justice William Howard Taft, who had served as president from 1908 to 1912. Coolidge took the oath with his left hand on a Bible that had been a gift to him from his mother. It marked the first time a former chief executive had sworn in another president.

It is interesting to note that when Taft led the nation, Coolidge was mayor of Northampton. In just 15 years, he had gone from being the leader of a small city to leader of the nation. In another first that day, the inauguration was broadcast across the country on radio. It is probable that more Americans heard Coolidge’s voice that day than any other president up to that time.

In keeping with Coolidge’s sense of modesty, the entire inauguration ceremony was a low-key affair. The parade was barely an hour long and there would be no fancy ball that evening. The president, whom the press would categorize as “Silent Cal,” gave one of the longest inaugural addresses on record. One reporter wrote that it was nearly as long as the parade. The Coolidges had celebrated the previous evening with a state dinner and being guests of honor at a performance of the opera “Aida.”

The next day the newspaper stories focused more on Vice President Charles Dawes than on Coolidge. Dawes, whose chief duty was to preside over the Senate, was sworn in by the president pro tem of that body. He then chose to make a blistering speech in which he vilified the Senate and its customs. The unanticipated nastiness of that talk created a ripple of excitement and the press latched on to it. Coolidge was reportedly quite upset at Dawes’ stealing the spotlight from him, and the relationship between the two men remained chilly for the entire four-year term.

Coolidge quickly became the center of attention again. His quiet dignity and devotion to duty were appreciated by the nation and he always remained highly popular. He had steered the country through the Harding scandals and his cool, calm leadership was just what the nation required as the world rapidly changed. Radio sales were proliferating, and Coolidge recognized the new medium’s importance. He made 40 radio talks during his term, which helped solidify his popularity. The first talking motion pictures happened during his term and Coolidge was the first president to make a short talking film. Voters always appreciated Coolidge’s sense of fiscal restraint and that he kept taxes low. He, in turn, was fortunate that the economy was good and that there were no international conflicts on the immediate horizon.

If he had chosen to run again, Coolidge likely could have had a third inauguration. Instead, he chose to return to Northampton and his rented home, hoping for the privacy he longed for after more than a quarter-century of public service. Less than four years after that return, a shocked nation learned on Jan. 5, 1933, that Calvin Coolidge, age 60, was dead. Maintaining the sense of a modest lifestyle, the family opted for a quick funeral in Northampton rather than an elaborate state funeral in Boston or Washington.

Only two days after his death, Coolidge was buried in the family plot in Plymouth Notch, Vermont. The 30th president was now at rest.

Richard Szlosek lives in Northampton.