52 The Journal of American Culture  Volume 33, Number 1  March 2010 Pomp, Protocol, and Monarchical Manners: State Dinners at the White House James I. Deutsch As President Barack Obama and his family settle into life at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, one thing is certain: they will have plenty of opportunities for parties and celebrations at home. Based on the experiences of previous White House occupants, there will be frequent birthday parties for family and friends, holiday parties for many festive occasions, private dinners with trusted advisors, and numerous receptions for visitors from around the world. But the hottest party invitation at the White House during the years of the Obama administration is likely to be the formal state dinner, which has been a staple of the president’s social, diplomatic, and political life since the founding of the republic. In spite of constant political and social change over the past two hundred years, and in spite of occasional criticism for their undemocratic lavishness, the ways in which state dinners have been planned and produced have remained remarkably consistent. No matter whether there is economic recession or prosperity, no matter which political party or presidential personality occupies the office, the consensus inside the White House is that the parties and celebrations inside America’s most famous residence not only must go on, but also must go on according to long-standing protocol and tradition. Several factors may explain this phenomenon. One is the strong sense of historical continuity that pervades the White House. Presidential candidates may campaign on slogans of ‘‘change we can believe in’’ or ‘‘ready for change.’’ But by the time they are ready to take possession of the residence on January 20, they are much more respectful of the dignified traditions that are part and parcel of the White House. The ‘‘new brooms’’ that ‘‘sweep clean’’ may be used occasionally in the corridors of Congress, but when it comes to actually sweeping or cleaning the White House, the tools are generally the same they have always been. Perhaps even more importantly, the person holding the broom—as a member of the White House residence staff—is likely to have held the job during several different presidential administrations. Moreover, there is usually something ineffable about the experience of a White House state dinner—even among members of the First Families themselves. Lady Bird Johnson, for instance, was the wife of a powerful senator, vice president, and eventually president, and therefore attended many state dinners. But the thrill for her was never gone—as at a state dinner for Pakistan President Muhammad Ayub Khan on December 14, 1965: James I. Deutsch is a program curator at the Smithsonian Institution’s Center for Folklife and Cultural Heritage and adjunct professor in the American studies department at George Washington University. He served as cocurator for a Smithsonian traveling exhibition, The Working White House: 200 Years of Tradition and Memories, and as coproducer for a Smithsonian Folkways DVD, White House Workers: Traditions and Memories. The Journal of American Culture, 33:1 r 2010 Wiley Periodicals, Inc. Pomp, Protocol, and Monarchical Manners  James I. Deutsch We went downstairs to ‘‘Hail to the Chief.’’ And then—I shall always be impressed by it—the entrance to the great East Room, the moment of expectation as the President, the First Lady, and the visiting Chief of State arrive to meet the guests. I always feel a little detached, like a spectator, surprised that I am there. (L. B. Johnson 338) This palpable—and seemingly immutable— sense of excitement at attending a White House state dinner begins with the invitation itself. Calligraphers have worked at the White House since the early nineteenth century in order to painstakingly address each invitation by hand; and when these invitations fall into the hands of the invitees, they are held in the highest regard. For instance, an anonymous social correspondent for the Harper’s Bazaar observed in 1877 that an invitation to a state dinner should never ‘‘be refused, obliging one, as it does, to cancel any other engagement already formed . . . . [W]hen private people are called to the state dinners the compliment is rare and highly prized’’ (‘‘Social Usages at Washington’’ 658). Almost one hundred years later, two reporters for the Washington Post expressed nearly identical sentiments. The first wrote, ‘‘In the United States, where royalty cannot command and a court does not exist, only one invitation serves as a summons that must be obeyed . . . a state dinner given by the President on behalf of a distinguished foreign guest’’ (H. Johnson and Johnston 129). The second reporter elaborated to say that receiving an invitation to ‘‘dinner at the White House is to climb a top rung of the political ladder. It is an event that is as close as any this nation has to a command performance and one where the lines of protocol are both numerous and intricately woven’’ (Radcliffe G1). Even in the midst of the devastating Civil War, members of Washington’s upper crust were so eager to receive a social invitation from the White House that John George Nicolay, Abraham Lincoln’s private secretary, detected among them a ‘‘lamentable spirit of flunkeyism.’’ In February 1862, writing in confidence to Therena Bates, the woman he would marry three years later, Nicolay expressed surprise upon seeing how ‘‘the higher classes of society . . . . worship power and position with a most abject devotion, and cringe in most 53 pitiable slavishness to all social honors and recognitions.’’ Some of them ‘‘almost begged their invitations,’’ Nicolay noted, ‘‘because their vanity has been tickled with the thought that they have attained something which others have not’’ (3). Of course, tickling the vanity of the invited guests is just one of the purposes that a White House state dinner is meant to serve. Presidents have regularly used such events ‘‘to pay political debts, lobby for congressional votes, recognize campaign contributors, honor various segments of society from science, labor and business to sports and the arts,’’ and also ‘‘to heal wounds, invite back those political forces who were left out in the cold and, perhaps, neutralize old animosities’’ (Radcliffe G1). The conviviality of the party can even dissolve differences between political parties, at least temporarily. In the late nineteenth century, a magazine noted that ‘‘No party lines are drawn’’ at the state dinner (‘‘State Dinners at the White House’’ 102). A century later, the columnist and author George F. Will observed the same phenomenon exactly: ‘‘Formal entertaining at the White House involves something that has almost disappeared in recent years. Democrats and Republicans mingle together’’ (qtd. in Schifando and Joseph 165). Nevertheless, the most important function of a White House state dinner may be to help facilitate America’s international relations. In fact, the term state dinner is today generally reserved for events that are held for a foreign head of state and supervised by protocol officers from the US Department of State. By that definition, the first official state dinner at the White House did not take place until December 18, 1874, when David Kalakaua, king of the Hawaiian Islands, became the first reigning monarch ever to visit Washington, DC, and to be feted by the president of the United States—in this case Ulysses S. Grant. But nearly three-quarters of a century before King Kalakaua came to Washington, there were state dinners, which did not involve the State Department, in the dining rooms of the White House. John and Abigail Adams were the mansion’s very first occupants, but they arrived only in November 1800, toward the end of Adams’s second 54 The Journal of American Culture  Volume 33, Number 1  March 2010 term, and thus too late to host a state dinner, especially in a home that was still partially under construction. Consequently, the honor of hosting the very first state dinner inside the White House went to Thomas Jefferson, whose notions of informality, democracy, and egalitarianism were often at odds with the rigid protocols expected by visiting dignitaries from Europe. For instance, Jefferson insisted that ‘‘all at the President’s table be equal.’’ Anyone dining with the president would therefore not encounter ‘‘the familiar seating charts, carefully worked out by rank,’’ which delineated who should be seating where (Seale, President’s House 105). Moreover, in keeping with his belief in individual rights and liberties, Jefferson allowed an ‘‘open dinner table.’’ As a result, there were always ‘‘Congressmen, foreigners and all sorts of people to dine with him,’’ even including members of the working class (Singleton 1: 43– 44). However, this spirit of democratic informality, which Jefferson had initiated, sometimes conflicted with the desire of subsequent presidents to present a more dignified appearance at their state dinners. James Monroe, for instance, had purchased gold spoons in Paris and brought them to the White House, where they ‘‘were used invariably at all State dinners.’’ As a result, Monroe was ‘‘roundly criticized for introduction into the White House a table accessory so undemocratic!’’ (Clay-Copton 29). Those very same spoons became an issue during the presidential campaign of 1840 when Charles Ogle, a Whig Congressman from Pennsylvania attacked President Martin Van Buren for dining ‘‘on exquisite china with gold spoons and silver plate’’ and living in ‘‘a PALACE as splendid as that of the Caesars, and as richly adorned as the proudest Asiatic mansion’’ (Whitcomb 72). Ogle’s address, better known as the ‘‘Gold Spoon Oration,’’ established ‘‘a language for political mockery of the White House, until the issue of a president’s being nondemocratic or ‘kinglike’ no longer meant much’’ (Seale, ‘‘About the Gold Spoon Oration’’ 11). In truth, Van Buren had simply inherited much of the formal elegance established by his prede- cessor, Andrew Jackson. Ironically, Jackson’s first day at the White House, March 4, 1829, was marred by a near-riot during his inaugural reception: People poured into the White House through windows as well as doors, upset waiters carrying trays of food, broke china and glassware, overturned tables, brushed bric-a-brac from mantles and walls, spilled whiskey and chicken and squirted tobacco juice on the carpets, and stood with muddy boots on the damaskcovered chairs in order to get a good look at ‘‘Old Hickory.’’ Jackson finally escaped through the back door and returned to his hotel, while waiters succeeded in restoring order only by placing big tubs of punch on the White House lawn, luring people outside and locking the doors behind them. Genteel Washingtonians were horrified. (Boller 66–67) Perhaps in response to this misfortune, subsequent White House dinners during the Jackson administration were often so lavish that some journalists wondered if Old Hickory was ‘‘wandering wide from the paths of Democratic simplicity.’’ After reports in 1829 that one such ‘‘dinner was served up in a more splendid style than I have ever witnessed,’’ and that ‘‘The desert [sic] and wines were abundant and rich,’’ an anonymous editor asked if these are now ‘‘the habits—the fashion, and the examples set by the ‘Farmer of Tennessee,’ fresh from the Hermitage’’ (‘‘From the Village Record’’). The answer apparently was yes. As was his wont, Jackson paid little heed to his critics—and continued to entertain in the manner to which he had become accustomed. Like Andrew Jackson, Abraham Lincoln came from humble origins, and likewise found himself attacked for spending too lavishly on White House dinners. However, in Lincoln’s case, the criticism may have been due to the Civil War that was raging at the time. Tellingly, no complaints were heard on the occasion of Lincoln’s first state dinner on March 28, 1861, just three weeks after his inauguration, and two weeks before war broke out. The protocol was exceedingly proper: Every detail was formal, the men in black, the ladies in ball gowns, with jewelry and flowers in their hair. At seven the party gathered in the Blue Room; they were joined by the President and Mrs. Lincoln. Nicolay made the necessary introductions. The Marine Band played as they marched to the State Dining Room, where they took their prescribed places, according to Nicolay’s seating chart, composed very carefully in Pomp, Protocol, and Monarchical Manners  James I. Deutsch conference with Secretary of State Seward. Flowers and ferns were massed on the great gilded plateau. Gas and candle light illuminated the textures of mirrors, gilt, silver, and crimson and white damask. (Seale, President’s House 367) However, eleven months later on February 5, 1862, just as Confederate forces were preparing to defend Fort Henry in western Tennessee against two divisions of Union soldiers led by General Ulysses S. Grant, Lincoln’s lavishness was sharply criticized. On that occasion, a ‘‘magnificent supper had been provided in the state dining-room by Maillard, of New York,’’ and tables were decorated with ‘‘large pieces of ornamental confectionery,’’ representing Union steamers and a model of Fort Sumter. Many of those who did not attend were not amused. ‘‘The abolitionists throughout the country were merciless in their criticisms of the President and Mrs. Lincoln for giving this reception when the soldiers of the Union were in cheerless bivouacs or comfortless hospitals, and a Philadelphia poet wrote a scandalous ode on the occasion’’ (Poore 2: 119–20). Nevertheless, the Lincolns continued to entertain at the White House, including ‘‘a grand feed’’ to which all 236 members of Congress (‘‘with their families’’) were invited in March 1864 (Leo 1). The same tension between the presentation of pomp at an official White House state dinner and the criticism of state dinners as undemocratic continued throughout the latter half of the nineteenth century. On the one hand, many published accounts of state dinners would offer praise for the ways in which the tables were ‘‘elegantly and sumptuously furnished’’ or ‘‘sumptuously decorated’’ (‘‘State Dinner at the White House’’ 165; ‘‘Washington Notes’’ 10). On the other hand, newspaper reports might grumble about ‘‘the showy affairs, with plenty of wine,’’ which supposedly characterized the presidency of Chester A. Arthur. One of those was alleged to have begun ‘‘one Saturday night and wound up well into Sunday morning . . . . It was a royal time according to the notions of the ‘the boys,’ but was a violation of the sanctity and dignity of the home of the Presidents, which was not uncommon dur- 55 ing that Administration’’ (‘‘His First State Dinner’’ 9). Criticism of White House extravagance seems to have reached a peak during the final days of the Theodore Roosevelt administration. In keeping with the progressive, muckraking nature of the times, a journalist for Harper’s Weekly complained about ‘‘the monarchical manners of the White House’’: [S]ince Mr. Roosevelt became President there have been witnessed behind the White House doors an exclusiveness, a rigor of etiquette, and a display of swords and gold braid such as no one of his predecessors ever dreamed of. The atmosphere of the White House has been more like that of Buckingham Palace these half dozen years than like its former air . . . . The President gives three or four state banquets annually. These banquets have, as a rule, been dull, artificial ceremonies . . . . The atmosphere of the White House, once democratic and free, has become tainted with the manners of monarchy. (Sinclair 14–15) Ironically, Roosevelt’s reputation inside the White House was just the reverse. According to Irwin ‘‘Ike’’ Hoover, an employee at the White House for forty-two years, ‘‘The Roosevelt family did not care a great deal about entertaining . . . . It was more to the liking of the family to spend a quiet evening in the library, either playing cards or reading the current magazines’’ (Hoover 33). In the years since Theodore Roosevelt, the occupants of the White House have been given greater carte blanche in being able to maintain high standards of pomp and protocol. Even during the depths of the Great Depression, when President Herbert Hoover hosted the Italian Minister of Foreign Affairs, Dino Grandi, on November 18, 1931, no one complained about the excess of food being served. One of the newly hired butlers that evening was Alonzo Fields, who would serve twenty-one years in the White House, eventually becoming the first maı̂tre d’ at the White House, in charge of all family, state, and social functions. That evening, as Fields recalls, saw an almost never-ending supply of courses: Well, the dinner started off with a crab-meat cocktail, soup julienne, Melba toast, curled celery and olives, broiled fillet of sole with tartare sauce, sliced tomatoes and whole-wheat-bread cucumber sandwiches, roast boned turkey, string beans and potatoes au gratin, 56 The Journal of American Culture  Volume 33, Number 1  March 2010 green salad with Camembert cheese. For dessert there were replica ice-cream molds of the White House, with the Belgian grapes served with the mints. (Fields 34–35) Even as the Chicago Tribune was reporting a 2.7 decrease in industrial employment for the month of October on one page, it treated the lavishness of the state dinner with amusement on another page. ‘‘No Ravioli for Signor Grandi,’’ the headline read. ‘‘When in Rome, it’s all very well to do as the Romans do; but when an itinerant Italian walks into your dining room don’t, for goodness sake, feed him ravioli and gnocchi. He gets plenty of them at home’’ (Herrick 23). President Franklin D. Roosevelt, who occupied the White House during both depression and war, also escaped criticism for the sumptuous state dinners held during his four terms. For instance, when Great Britain’s King George VI exchanged champagne toasts with Roosevelt at a state dinner in June 1939, the newspaper accounts joined in the spirit of profuse praise: The dinner was of a magnificence and brilliance unparalleled at the White House since Ramsay MacDonald, the late British Prime Minister visited there in 1933. It was the first state affair for any British monarch, and it glittered with diamonds as a Christmas tree with ornaments . . . . The general effect, with the glow of the seventy-two candles heightened by a diffused light from a shimmering, prismatic crystal chandelier, was that of white and gold. (Winn 1, 5) Likewise, in June 1942, four days after the Battle of Midway had ended with 307 US deaths, Roosevelt’s state dinner for another Georgian king—George II of Greece—received equally glowing coverage: Yards of gold braid glinted on the full dress uniforms of army and navy officers of many nations while the silken and satin gowns of the women guests gleamed in the brilliant light of the huge chandelier overhead . . . . The guests making up the brilliant assemblage were warm in praise for the epic stand of the Greek fighters. (Strand 3) Similar encomiums were expressed by African American newspapers whenever an African head of state was honored at state dinners. For instance, when the president of Liberia came to the White House in 1954, the Pittsburgh Courier enthused: Three days of glamour and dignity, pomp and circumstance, attended the arrival of President William V.S. Tubman of Liberia in the capital last week. President and Mrs. Eisenhower opened the White House social season with a sumptuous banquet honoring the visiting dignitary. A golden veil of sheer beauty enveloped the White House dining room Monday night for the dinner which drew a select group of about fifty guests. Golden candelabra and fruit-filled epergnes cast a mellow glow over the affair. (T. S. Johnson 10) Of course, it is not the presidents themselves, nor the first ladies, who make certain that everything at the state dinner works so smoothly—that the epergnes are filled with fruit or that the golden candelabra have a mellow glow. That is the job of the White House residence staff—the butlers, calligraphers, carpenters, chefs, cooks, doormen, electricians, engineers, florists, gardeners, groundskeepers, housekeepers, maı̂tre d’s, painters, plumbers, seamstresses, stewards, ushers, and valets—currently numbering about ninety-five individuals, but far fewer in the nineteenth century. It is their job to maintain the 132-room residence, and to do whatever it takes to make a state dinner run smoothly. They are joined for such occasions by additional support staff, including military escorts, musicians, color guards, and security personnel. Not surprisingly, there is relatively little turnover among members of the residence staff. Once they have secured a position working at the White House, they are more than likely to remain there until retirement. Moreover, family connections among staff members run strong—with sons and daughters, brothers and sisters, and cousins of employees often being hired to work alongside one another. The result is a genuine sense of family—including some who are actually related by blood, as well as others whose spirit of cooperation and teamwork make them part of the community of White House workers, especially at special events. For residence staff members like Nancy Mitchell, who worked as an assistant usher from 1981 to 2006, the state dinner was easily ‘‘the greatest example of teamwork’’ at the White House. ‘‘That really takes everybody doing what they do the best, from the housemen to the ushers, to coordinate all the requirements for it. You call somebody to do something and you don’t have to Pomp, Protocol, and Monarchical Manners  James I. Deutsch worry about calling them back to see if they’ve done it; it’s just done and that’s how it all comes together’’ (Mitchell). The White House chef is obviously one of the key individuals at a state dinner. Walter Scheib, who served as executive chef from 1994 to 2005, observed that ‘‘a state dinner is an amazing, amazing occurrence. You know, while it’s called a state dinner, I think it really is more like a Broadway play in terms of all the different components that come into it to make it work. There are literally thousands of people involved and the chefs are one component of that’’ (White House Revealed). Henry Haller, who served as executive chef from 1966 to 1987, has similar memories. During the bicentennial year of 1976, Haller recalled a steady stream of state dinners, sometimes as many as two or three week: Two hundred fifty people every time. And I don’t know how I did it but we did it. And this I’m very proud of, because everybody worked together, very carefully. My staff was very dedicated and they helped me to succeed and every time serve a very nice, very nice dinner. (Haller) In consultation with the first family and sometimes the State Department, the chefs plan the menu. As Haller explained: If you had the head of state from Israel, obviously you wouldn’t serve pork. Most of the time I made American [or] French-American cuisine. When the premier of China came, I served veal. I did not cook Chinese food. I mean, I’m not a Chinese chef. (Haller) Roland Mesnier, who served as executive pastry chef from 1980 to 2005, also played a role in the selection of the main course. For that, he noted, You’re not going to find some strange meat. We’re not going to be serving octopus for a state dinner. Okay? That would be a big disaster. Usually, the food is designed not to be offensive to anyone, meaning forget about garlic, forget about curry, forget about all these very strong spices . . . . This is where the best of the world come to eat, so everything has to be the best. (Mesnier) Once the final menu was decided, the chefs and cooks ‘‘would rehearse it and rehearse it and rehearse it and make sure we had it just exactly right because working at the White House isn’t like a 57 hotel or restaurant,’’ Walter Scheib explained. ‘‘If the dinner doesn’t go well, it’s not that you give them ten percent off the check and a free glass of champagne. You really have embarrassed the First Lady, and goodness knows you would never want to do that’’ (White House Revealed). Accordingly, no job or detail was left to chance. Lillian Rogers Parks, who served as a maid and seamstress from 1929 to 1960 and who was herself the daughter of a longtime White House worker, recalled: [W]henever there was a State dinner, I had to stand by with needle and thread to fix any tiny flaws in the tablecloth while it was being ironed right on the table. People are always surprised to hear that we would iron out the creases in the tablecloth while it was on the dining table. Sometimes a girl would be working on one end of the table, ironing, and I would be mending at the other end of it. Napkins too sometimes needed delicate work around the embroidered initials ‘‘U.S.,’’ where the material breaks first. (Parks 99) When the food is ready to be served, the operation is a whirlwind of activity. Butler Alonzo Fields explained that those ‘‘serving the inside curve of the gable had to enter the room first, with others following in rotation . . . . Platters of food had to be passed up a spiral stairway by a chain line of pantry crew, and some of the butlers went down to the kitchen by the back stairs for their service. It is a wonder that the food could be kept hot’’ (Fields 34–35). Needless to say, it is usually a very long day for those who do the cooking, the sewing, and the serving. Gary Walters, who worked at the White House from 1970 to 2007, including twenty-one years as Chief Usher, recalled that the staff may start preparing for a state dinner around five o’clock in the morning, and by the time they ‘‘finish cleaning up, sometimes it’s two or three in the morning of the next day’’ (The White House Revealed). Admittedly, the clean-up may not always go smoothly. At Lincoln’s White House dinner on February 5, 1862, John G. Nicolay wrote to Therena Bates that ‘‘the supper was magnificent, and that when all else was over, by way of an interesting finale the servants (a couple of them) much moved by wrath and wine had a jolly little knock- 58 The Journal of American Culture  Volume 33, Number 1  March 2010 down in the kitchen damaging in its effects to sundry heads and champagne.’’ Not wishing to spread gossip, Nicolay advised Bates, ‘‘This last item is entre nous,’’ not realizing that his personal letters would one day end up in the Library of Congress (Nicolay 3). Over the years, those who do the serving have presumably become less rowdy; and there are now many more of them. Similarly, as the magnitude of the US government has expanded, and with it the executive branch, so too has the state dinner. In the nineteenth century, the number of persons invited was limited by the dimensions of the table. A social correspondent observed that ‘‘thirty-six people can be seated, ranging up and down the table on either hand of the President and his wife, sitting opposite, according to the scale of their temporary rank’’ (‘‘Social Usages at Washington’’ 658). During the administration of Theodore Roosevelt, the State Dining Room was expanded ‘‘so that dinners for more than one hundred guests could be held there’’ (Smith 152). That was still the maximum number of dinner guests through the mid-1970s; but just as inflation affected the economy then, so too did it increase the size of the guest lists. Pastry Chef Roland Mesnier observed this trend during his service from 1980 to 2005: A state dinner during the Reagan [administration] would be like 140 people. During the [George H.W.] Bush [administration] sometimes it went up to 220, and so on. During the Clinton [administration], the biggest state dinner went up to 800 people . . . . The Clintons truly loved to entertain, because they know that the more hands they shake, the more friends they’re going to make. It’s a very simple calculation. So, if you shake 800 hands in one night, that will probably translate into several thousand new friends the next day because people are going to be talking. (Mesnier) The numbers of guests at state dinners during the George W. Bush administration were considerably more modest—generally in the range of one to two hundred. And as President Barack Obama starts holding his own state dinners, the eyes of the press and the public will be focused sharply on them. Will the economic crisis of 2008 have a dampening effect upon the splendor of the White House state dinner? Or will the trend of sumptuous parties with golden candelabra and fruit-filled epergnes continue? Which cultural mores and presidential personality traits will be reflected in the Obama White House’s entertaining style? Shortly before President Obama’s inauguration, he was warned that ‘‘appearances do matter.’’ For instance, the cost of Nancy Reagan’s china ($210,399) was seen as wildly extravagant (though the china was a private donation and considered a necessity—before then, state dinners were served on a mishmash of patterns because there wasn’t enough of any one set to go around). The Kennedy White House was too French; the Clintons’, too Arkansas. (Green D1) Striking a balance between pomp and protocol on one side, and excessively monarchical manners on the other side, has been—and undoubtedly will remain—a challenge for every American president, for staff members who arrange the state dinners, for the press, and for the general public. Plus ça change, plus c’est la même chose. Works Cited Boller, Paul F., Jr. Presidential Anecdotes. Rev. ed. New York: Oxford UP, 1996. Clay-Copton, Virginia. 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