Applying the ‘Kennedy Effect’ to Presidential Humor

In recalling the wit of modern Presidents, I unwittingly overlooked some classic examples.

Not often told is the story of Calvin and Mrs. Coolidge’s tour of a government farm. They were in two groups, Mrs. Coolidge’s group going on ahead. At the chicken pens Mrs. Coolidge asked whether the roosters serviced the hens more than once a day.

“Oh, yes,” she was assured. “Dozens of times.”

“Tell that to Mr. Coolidge,” she is alleged to have said.

Given the same information in his turn, Mr. Coolidge asked, “Same hen every time?”

“No, sir,” he was told. “A different one every time.”

“Tell that,” he is alleged to have said, “to Mrs. Coolidge.”

The story is almost certainly apocryphal, but nevertheless it has given currency to the phrase “the Coolidge effect,” meaning the phenomenon of renewed male arousal at the introduction of new females.

That Mr. Coolidge should be remembered in such a connection, considering his exemplary life, seems ironic. The “Kennedy effect” would seem to be more fitting.

Charlton Heston applauds me for quoting Adlai Stevenson, although he was never President. “Those of us who worked for his election,” Heston says, “remember most poignantly, perhaps, his rueful quoting of Abraham Lincoln while conceding victory to (Dwight) Eisenhower: ‘I’m too old to cry, but it hurts too much to laugh.’

“Lincoln was our wittiest President,” Heston adds, “especially since there’s no doubt he wrote his own jokes, along with his own speeches.”

Lincoln was a great storyteller--a humorist more often than a wit. His humor usually was contained in parables, from which he drew some point. Lincoln’s reputation as a storyteller gave rise to a joke: Two women were debating whether Lincoln or Jefferson Davis would win the war. One said Jefferson would win, because he was a praying man. “But Abraham is a praying man too,” the other protested. “Yes,” her opponent said, “but when Abraham prays, the Lord will think he’s joking.”

Lincoln occasionally unsheathed a sharp wit. Frustrated by Gen. George McClellan’s reluctance to fight, he wrote his commander: “If you don’t want to use the army, I should like to borrow it for a while.”

After giving the command to Joseph Hooker, Lincoln received a dispatch from Hooker “Headquarters in the Saddle.” Lincoln said, “The trouble with Hooker is he’s got his headquarters where his hindquarters ought to be.”

There was a tragic irony in Lincoln’s last known joke. He had not wanted to go to Ford’s Theater, having already seen the play. But Mrs. Lincoln insisted, for social reasons. “All right, Mary, I’ll go,” Lincoln said, “but if I don’t go down in history as the martyr President, I miss my guess.”

As I noted, Ronald Reagan’s popularity arose in large part from his hearty humor after he was shot. Heston reminds me of the crack he made just before surgery: “Gosh, Doc, I sure hope you’re a Republican.”

Patricia Nulkern of Temecula objects to my characterization of the Jimmy Carter presidency as humorless. “I must take umbrage with you.” she says. “He does have a sense of humor. It just isn’t one of those ‘good ol’ boy’ types. But it is there, nevertheless. It is a gentleman’s humor--hard to find these days.”

She didn’t give any examples of it, though.

Louis F. Maillefer of San Marcos is outraged by my nomination of Jack Kennedy as the wittiest President. “Do you really buy that story of heroism with the PT boat? The Kennedys were specialists in fooling people with all kinds of stories. I must admit that it must have taken lots of wit to con about 2,000 women--coast-to-coast--to jump into the sack with the Kennedy brothers.”

An anonymous subscriber is equally outraged at my mention of Kennedy’s heroism as captain of a PT boat that was sunk when it collided with a Japanese destroyer. (Kennedy is said to have towed one of his crewmen to shore by clenching his jacket in his teeth.) “No one sank his boat but that jerk himself,” the subscriber rants. “In a big fog, this idiot PT boat captain ran into a Japanese destroyer! What a goof!”

Harry Squires of Granada Hills recalls that in 1959 he wrote presidential candidate Kennedy a letter noting that since 1840 no President elected in a year ending in 0 had left office alive, and three had been assassinated. Kennedy answered, in part, “I dare say, should anyone take this phenomenon to heart . . . anyone, that is, who aspires to change his address to 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue . . . that most probably the landlord would be left from 1960-1964 with a ‘For Rent’ sign hanging on the gatehouse door.”

Always leave ‘em laughing.