(1843–1901)
One can argue that William McKinley lived through two Civil Wars—the bloody struggle between North and South (in which McKinley served as an officer under Rutherford B. Hayes) and the emerging conflict between “wet” and “dry” factions that eventually led to enactment of Prohibition during Woodrow Wilson’s second term.
Yet another president from Ohio, McKinley (the twenty-fifth president, 1897–1901), knew that being a successful politician in the Midwest meant showing at least some deference to the temperance movement—if not actually completely embracing the teetotaler gospel.
Despite, or because of, his own experiences in the Civil War, McKinley initially resisted the “war hawks” who were drumming up a reason to boot the Spanish out of Cuba. But he eventually gave way to pressure from the likes of Teddy Roosevelt (McKinley’s second-term vice president) and Henry Cabot Lodge. The public’s reaction to the sinking of the Maine in Havana Harbor provided the necessary tinder to touch off what some deemed “a splendid little war.”
In one of his early elections, an 1876 contest for a U.S. congressional seat, McKinley had to fight off accusations that he had frequently been intoxicated during the Civil War. (McKinley rose to the officer ranks after he heroically risked his life at the Battle of Antietam, resupplying Union soldiers under intense fire at what is now known as the Burnside Bridge.)
Two facts made McKinley’s defense against these political snipes somewhat tricky. One, there had been another officer—a John McKinley (no relation to the future president, but also in the 23rd Ohio Regiment)—who did, in fact, get notoriously blasted. Soldiers fighting in the same theater of war might have easily associated the name McKinley with drinking binges.
The second fact was a bit stickier. Though hardly a chronic boozer, William McKinley apparently had, on at least one occasion, drank to excess at a social reception hosted by General George Crook, in Cumberland, Maryland. The incident was recorded in a letter from Colonel James Comly to Colonel (and future president) Rutherford B. Hayes, who had been home on leave at the time. Comly wrote:
. . . a grand party. The belle of the evening was Chf. Quartermaster Farnsworth, who parts his hair in the middle. Gardner was the best dancer . . . and from what Kennedy tells me of the latter end of the thing, McKinley must have been the drunkest. I guess they had a little difficulty about it.
As for the other McKinley, Hayes wrote in his diary in 1862, lamenting that he had encouraged the sergeant to visit his homestead in Ohio while on leave:
Heard from home. Sergeant [John] McKinley, with letter and watch—tight, drunk, the old heathen, and insisting on seeing the madame! I didn’t dream of that. He must be a nuisance, a dangerous one too, when drunk. A neat, disciplined, well-drilled soldier under rule, but what a savage when in liquor! Must be careful whom I send home.
Given that description, it’s no great surprise that Major William McKinley (despite whatever indiscretions he may have committed at Crook’s ball) did not want to be mistaken for a chronic offender such as Sergeant McKinley.
Hayes, the future president, had nothing but good to say about William McKinley, however, describing him in a letter home to his wife (in December 1863) as “an exceedingly bright, intelligent, and gentlemanly young officer. He promises to be one of our best. . . .”
Although he was raised as a fairly strict Methodist, McKinley did have an occasional glass of wine with dinner and served wine to his guests at the Executive Mansion. He also often sipped and savored a glass of whiskey as a nightcap.
But if McKinley had a true vice (if you can call it one), it was smoking cigars. He allegedly could smoke several dozen in one week and liked to enjoy them on a porch at the Executive Mansion, where he could not be readily observed.
McKinley obviously knew smoking was not the most healthful of habits. In fact, he did not like having his photograph taken while he had a cigar in hand or mouth, fearing that a president who smoked would set a bad example for the young men of America. He tried to be equally stealthy when it came to his moderate drinking habits.
As was his generous habit over several presidential administrations, industrial titan Andrew Carnegie relished supplying the Executive Mansion with a liquid gift—a barrel of scotch whisky, typically from the Dewar distillery in Scotland.
With “dry” sentiment in the country on the upsweep, most of the presidents who had terms that coincided with Carnegie’s years tried to keep the steelmaker’s generosity a secret, with varying success.
At any rate, McKinley got his barrel of scotch from Carnegie, too, with instructions to pass it on to those who might appreciate it if the president did not want to keep it for his own consumption.
CARRIE “THE HATCHET” NATION VS. BREWERY BILL
Carrie Nation—the volatile, hatchet-wielding nemesis of all things bacchant—suspected that McKinley was something of a closet drinker and referred to him as “the brewer’s president.” Given McKinley’s moderate habits, it seems a bit overstated, but Nation was not a matron given to compromise. For example, she once destroyed a saloon painting depicting the Egyptian queen Cleopatra at the baths because she deemed it filth. She came back and destroyed a good amount of liquor bottles later and was about to chop up the bar itself when local law enforcement intervened.
Nation often toured the country and delivered her fiery spiel to what were typically receptive audiences. She happened to be speaking at Coney Island, New York, just days after McKinley’s assassination in September 1901. While McKinley lingered in a state of near-death, the hostile hag dispensed not an ounce of sympathy concerning the president’s grave condition.
According to one news report, Nation bellowed:
“Bill McKinley deserves to die. He is a friend of the brewer and the drinking man. . . . He deserves just what he got.”
Hundreds in the crowd almost instantly booed and hissed at her, whereupon the reformer snarled back, referring to them as “hell hounds” and “snakes” and “sots.” Nation’s manager wisely hustled her off as some of the most hostile began to menacingly approach the speaker’s stage. Soon after, the crowd broke out with three hearty cheers for McKinley.