(1856–1924)
Born in Virginia, Thomas Woodrow Wilson graduated from Princeton University and later became its president. Wilson was serving as the governor of New Jersey when—as the Democratic Party nominee and champion of “progressive” reforms—he was swept into the White House in 1912. He defeated Republican incumbent William Howard Taft and former President Theodore Roosevelt (representing the “Bull Moose Party”), plus socialist candidate Eugene Debs in that famous election. He became the twenty-eighth president, serving from 1913–1921.
In his second term, Wilson attempted to keep America out of World War I—a stance that became increasingly impossible to hold due to Germany’s policy of unrestricted submarine warfare and hawks (such as Wilson’s political adversary Henry Cabot Lodge) in the Senate pushing for U.S. involvement. After the war, Wilson championed the League of Nations, although—much to his lament—the United States itself did not initially join the organization designed to promote understanding and peace.
Some people wrongly assume that Wilson must have pushed for Prohibition, since the Eighteenth Amendment (the Volstead Act) was passed during his second term. But, in fact, Wilson vetoed it on October 28, 1919—only to have Congress override him.
Prior to his veto, Wilson had suffered a serious stroke. Most historians and biographers believe that his second wife, Edith, (with assistance from Dr. Cary Grayson,) virtually ran the country in Wilson’s last years in the White House. Wilson died in 1924 after a more serious stroke at his home on S Street in Washington, D.C.
Wilson made some enemies when he was the president of Princeton University. One of his Princeton faculty foes—Professor Henry Duffield—once claimed that Wilson was “drunk with egotism.”
Wilson’s own words sometimes seem to suggest that he was not a man eager to embrace compromise, having once stated to an Ivy League audience:
I am one of those who are of the seed of the indomitable blood, planted in so many parts of the United States, which makes good fighting stuff,—the Scotch-Irish. The beauty of a Scotch-Irishman is that he not only thinks he is right, but knows he is right. And I have not departed from the faith of my ancestors.
Neither did Wilson depart from the favorite drink of his ancestors—scotch whisky.
Although none of Wilson’s opponents—academics or politicians—ever claimed he overindulged, the Virginian-born future president was far from a teetotaler. He may have looked like a stodgy academic (our only president with a Ph.D.) in his dark suits and top hat, but Wilson was, in fact, a moderate imbiber with a preference for high-quality whisky.
Coincidently, in the early 1900s, there was a popular scotch whisky called “Wilson” (distilled in Baltimore, Maryland, and claiming to date back to 1823), and the product’s slogan was: “Wilson—That’s all!” The obvious advertising implication being: “If you can have Wilson’s whiskey—Why ask for anything else?”
Woodrow Wilson’s Democratic campaign essentially co-opted this slogan (it was bandied about even when he ran for governor of New Jersey in 1909), and it appeared on campaign posters. “America First” appeared at the top of the poster—above a rather serious looking portrait of Wilson against a backdrop of the American flag. And below Wilson’s picture, in bold letters, appeared: “That’s All!”
But the poster was certainly out-done by a jaunty, banjo-strumming campaign song titled—you guessed it—“Wilson, That’s All!” that was played and sung at campaign rallies during Wilson’s White House run.
The verses brim with references to Democratic fellowship and alcohol consumption:
Now convention days are over
And election time is near
From East and West, from North to South
There’s just one name in ev’ry mouth
When a fellow meets a fellow
And he says to him: “What’s yours?”
He says, “I think I’ll have to drink
To the Democratic cause!”
It’s “Wilson, that’s all, Wilson, that’s all!”
Who strikes the public sentiment
Say who will be our President?
It’s Wilson, that’s all
You’ll hear them call, “Tammany, Tammany”
While on the street or on the car
While at your home or at the bar
It’s “Wilson, Wilson, Wilson, that’s all!”
As the president of Princeton University, Wilson, first wife Ellen, and their children lived in the prestigious Italianate Victorian mansion called “Prospect House.” Wilson may not have qualified as a “party animal,” but he certainly knew how to welcome in the new year.
As the stroke of midnight approached, Wilson gathered everyone in the dining room and filled up the champagne glasses. Then everyone perched themselves on dining room chairs, put one leg up on the table top, and toasted in the new year—while singing the classic Scottish ballad “Auld Lang Syne.”
Because Prohibition unfolded during Wilson’s presidency, it might be assumed that he approved, or even pushed for, anti-liquor laws in the United States. But Wilson vetoed the Volstead Act—only to be overruled by Congress.
Wilson attempted a compromise; the war in Europe was ending and with it the need to keep wheat and other grains purely as food sources for soldiers in the field. So when President Wilson addressed the Sixty-sixth Congress in 1919, he raised eyebrows by pointing out the obvious:
The Demobilization of military forces of the country has progressed to such a point that it seems to me entirely safe now to remove the ban upon the manufacture and sale of wines and beers. But I am advised that without further legislation I have not the legal authority to remove the present restrictions.
A backlash came from several directions. A minister from Ohio soon pronounced Wilson’s declaration as: “Very unbecoming for an elder in the Presbyterian Church [which Wilson was], and a man holding so high an office as that of President of the United States.”
Others suspected that German-American brewers were manipulating the White House—and, of course, anti-German sentiment was still running high in the country.
For their part, the “wets” felt Wilson’s remarks did not go far enough; they wanted all liquor—not just beer and wine—to be made available to Americans.
Like other U.S. presidents (Lincoln and LBJ come readily to mind), Wilson enjoyed telling stories that featured liquor as a humorous ingredient. One revolved around “squirrel” whiskey.
On December 14, 1910, Wilson gave a speech to the New York Southern Society, staged in the grand ballroom of the Waldorf-Astoria Hotel in Manhattan. William G. McAdoo served as the toastmaster and welcomed Wilson with a lofty prediction: “I invite you, gentlemen, to drink to the health of a future President of the United States.”
In return, Wilson—in a matter of seconds—regaled the crowd (their toast to Wilson was already their third of the night, having previously toasted William Howard Taft, the current president, and “the ladies”) with his tale about squirrel whiskey—which he used to tell the crowd that he was not exactly sure in which direction the future might take him.
I find myself in one respect (I hope in only one respect), resembling certain individuals I heard of in a story that was repeated to me the other day. A friend of mine in Canada with a fishing party was imprudent enough to sample some whiskey that was called “squirrel” whiskey. It was understood that it was called “squirrel” whiskey because it made those who drank it inclined to climb a tree. This gentleman imbibed too much of this dangerous liquid and the consequence was that when he went to the train to go with the rest of the company, he took a train bound South instead of a train bound North. Wishing to recover him, his companion telegraphed the conductor of the south-bound train: “Send short man named Johnson back for the north-bound train. He is intoxicated.” Presently they a got a reply from the conductor: “Further particulars needed; there are thirteen men on the train who don’t know either their name or their destination.”
(Wilson continued)
Now, I am sure that I know my name, but I am not as sure as Mr. McAdoo that I know my destination, and I have at the present so much to do that I don’t think I am very concerned where I land. . . .
Wilson unleashed his squirrel whiskey story on several other occasions. The president even regaled British prime minister David Lloyd George with the tale during a brief respite at the Paris Peace Conference in 1919.
When Wilson launched his run for governor of New Jersey, a Judge Hudspeth gave him a good-natured warning.
“Dr. Wilson,” Hudspeth stated, “you need not be surprised that sometime during your trip around the State, some exuberant voter will slap you on the back and say: ‘Come, Woody, old man, let’s have a drink!’”
Wilson responded with a good-natured laugh, allowing: “The intimate introduction is all right, but I would draw the line on liquoring up!”
The summer of 1919 proved to be a hectic one for Woodrow Wilson. While wrapping up the Paris Peace Conference in Europe (with his trusty friend and personal physician Dr. Cary Grayson, a former admiral, by his side), the American contingent was well aware that when they arrived “home” that the United States would (at least officially) be a “dry” country, as of July 1.
If Wilson and Grayson had not remembered that Prohibition was indeed looming in the very near future, European leaders were only too pleased to remind them. The day Wilson, British prime minister Dave Lloyd George, and France’s Georges Clemenceau signed the controversial Treaty of Versailles in the Hall of Mirrors on June 28, Dr. Grayson wryly noted in his diary:
Clemenceau had tea served for the party. He also had wine brought in and proposed a toast to the peace and good health of the party. After the toast had been drunk he turned to me and said: “You had better have another one because you will not be able to get any of this (wine) when you get back home.”
Wilson was somewhat willing to poke fun at the situation, judging from a discussion (in the spring of 1919) with Lloyd George—one that started out being about sparrows. As Dr. Grayson recorded in his diary:
The subject turned to birds, particularly the English sparrow. The President said that the English sparrow in America was a menace because it whipped away the thrush, the robin and other songbirds. Lloyd-George was surprised to hear that, because, he said, “it was such a quiet bird at home in England.” The President said: “How do you account for the fact that it is so peaceful at home and such a fighter with us?” Lloyd-George said: “I think it is due to the fact that your climate is more energetic; that you have more champagne in the atmosphere.” The President said: “That may have held good in the past but it will not hold good now, because we are dry. . . .”
Wilson stocked an impressive wine cellar at the White House. Rather than leave it to the incoming Warren Harding and his cronies (who surely would have guzzled it down in rapid order), Wilson wisely opted to move it to his new residence prior to leaving the White House.
This reasonable request actually required special approval from Congress since—technically—it was illegal (under the Volstead Act) to transport liquor.
In addition to wine, Wilson liked an occasional sip or two of scotch whisky. In the latter stages of his life—despite the Volstead Act—correspondence signed with Wilson’s name appeared to acknowledge his use of scotch whisky to combat the challenges of a serious stroke that left him in a fragile state.
A typical example was a June 14, 1921 letter that Wilson sent to Louis Seibold (a journalist trusted by the Wilson circle—he once conducted an interview intended to show that President Wilson had recovered from his stroke) that read:
My dear Seibold:
The goods arrived as per Grayson’s schedule and I am very grateful. You certainly know what is wanted and when.
With warmest regards from us all;
Faithfully and gratefully,
Woodrow Wilson
As Seibold acknowledged in a note to Katharine E. Brand, “the goods” were six bottles of rare scotch whisky, which he passed on to Dr. Grayson for delivery to the former president. At another time, Seibold noted: “I personally delivered to Mister Wilson’s house some very good Rhine wine—Berncastler Doctor—as a gift from my father.”
Wilson’s vice president, Thomas R. Marshall, is most famous for his quote: “What this country needs is a really good five-cent cigar!” But Marshall also was a reformed alcoholic who sometimes made speeches on behalf of the temperance movement, which allowed the Wilson-Marshall ticket to win votes from some of the “bone-dry” contingent.