Laddie, the Presidential Dog

The pets of our nation’s First Families are famous and occasionally receive media attention. Here is a story connecting the White House to Park University.

Pauline Hawley, wife of (then) Park College President Frederick William Hawley (1915-37 and 1944-45) wrote in the May 9, 1931, Park College Record an article reminiscing about Laddie, the companion of Spencer Cave, a man born into slavery at the start of the Civil War After moving to Parkville, Mo , Cave worked for the University for more than 70 years before this death in 1947

Mrs Hawley mentions Laddie’s lineage to an occupant at 1600 Pennsylvania Ave , Washington, D C --the White House U S President Calvin Coolidge and First Lady Grace Coolidge had a famous white collie named Rob Roy during his term 1923-29

The Park Stylus had a column on Sept 25, 1924:

“A Scotch collie, named Laddie, holds a very important place in the White House (now University White House, the home of Park University's First Family) family now He is not only pure bred, but of a royal family as he is related to President Coolidge’s dog The pup ’ s mother is named Lady and his father, Laddie Laddie, Jr , like all of the young, is inclined to mischief and is subject to running away The (Park) White House family would greatly appreciate it if the students would unite in the effort to keep him at home Should you chance to see him strolling, very kindly direct him home.”

Now for the rest of the story (as told by Mrs. Hawley)--

“He came a freshman to Park about ten years ago. A pitifully sick little collie, the train ride having wracked his finely organized being woefully. Also, he had left his mother and brothers and was heartsick besides. So he laid down wearily on the bright green sod that beautiful spring day, closed his eyes and took no notice of the family group that stooped so anxiously over him.

It was Spencer (Cave) whose persuasive voice roused him after seemingly hours of watching. It was from Spencer’s kind brown hands that he finally sipped the warm milk we had prepared. Laddie then was to live-Gently son gave him a warm bath and fluffed the beautiful white hair, washed the fine long head, the pointed graceful nose, the pink ears, and about the crystal, clear eyes, ‘amber ecstasies,’ so very, very carefully. Then suddenly our little collie emerged from his apathy, jumped into the mound of freshly raked, clean grass by Spencer’s side and from then on he was at home

Laddie was of noble lineage, coming from kennels famous throughout the country Never was he of the proletariat, in appearance, or manner, or mien And being related to a beloved collie at the Nation’s White House, it seemed the most natural thing for us to call him, “Laddie ”

As Laddie grew in stature he grew in favor Gentle, loving, trusting, there was that about him that comforted

How many times have I seen him in the embrace of a student, their heads laid cheek to cheek--a boy and a dog-a communion that spoke of many things Of home to the homesick For in breaking home ties for the long college years ahead, there is oftener than not saying goodbye too to the family dog A goodbye that chokes and leaves a poignant ache

A freshman student once came to the President’s Office, his eyes filled with tears and pleadingly said: ‘You love dogs, Dr Hawley, you know how hard it would be for you to give up Laddie Won’t you let me have my dog?’ It hurt the president to deny that request -hurt hard So Laddie has had to represent the family pet, whether it be a dog or a cat, or a canary, or a parrot, or a goldfish, or what And his gentle heart responded to that loneliness and assuaged

Laddie loved the college feeds He was an honorary member of all clubs and organizations when these gala times were on A part of the laughing, colorful parade winding its way to the Lowell ceremonial grounds on the high bluff overlooking the river’s peaceful flow and within sound of its wash A loyal Lowell then true blue Or when the Parchies and Calliopeans wended their way to Observatory Hill Laddie followed the purple and gold Or was it the banner of green and white of the Websters and Eurodelphians? Laddie trotted gleefully in its wake Or the Student Volunteers, or a table feed when some fond mother had sent a marvel of a cake, basis of the festivities

Often I saw Laddie’s nose delicately sniff and wriggle and catching the scent lose no time in joining the party Not hat Laddie was a gourmand, for his ‘Table’ manners were irreproachable. Never did he gulp his food. Standing to one side he eyed his portion discriminately, then walking away, returned shortly for another survey. This procedure enacted several times, finally edging to the place, he delicately selected the morsels. It was therefore not the ‘weenies’ or the egg sandwiches that lured Laddie to the various ‘feeds’ but a highly developed social instinct, a love of friends.

At the crowning of the Queen on May Day, Laddie had officiated for years. Groomed till his white hair, powdered and brushed, looked soft and downy as new fallen snow, collared with a necklace of pink satin ribbon and a leash of the same, Laddie walked with his mistress to the coronation. Stopping here and there with a gentle tug of the ribbons to speak to some special friend in the May Day audience. Standing very quietly as his mistress bestowed the crown, and then at her whispered ‘Lie down Laddie -lie down,’ dropping by the Queen’s throne at the hem of her garment and remaining till the pageant and all the beautiful ceremonies were over The band fascinated him and he stepped proudly, head up and throat arched, as it played, Laddie Laddie

On warm moonlight nights he slept on the green mat of a gentle slope close by the house How often I went to see the white patch that was Laddie, sprawled in the silver of the moon, sleeping soundly; calling to him softly from my window, ‘Laddie Laddie ’

There was another function in which Laddie’s part, though inconspicuous, was big Those who are acquainted with college administration know the President’s home is often, often, a place of burden Times to be weathered for which there are no rules or precedents to guide--when problems wrack the soul So there is the picture of Laddie and his master--the President in absorbed thought, sitting side by side long evenings--Laddie’s cool nose rubbing the hand that now and then caressed him ‘I know it’s muddy outside but can’t Laddie come in anyway?’ Not even my rigorous housekeeping instinct could resist that appeal of Frederick William (Hawley) nor of Laddie, with his nose pressed to the screened door, his dark eyes shining luminously, eagerly, his tail wagging in request. Just a dog--but giving great love--just a dog--asking nothing, but giving so lavishly of loyalty and affection.

Discarded tennis balls were a passion with Laddie If one hit his nose there was no hurt Also he could get his teeth into it, which was another prime thing in its favor So we played ball--and Laddie was no mean Babe Ruth when it came to catching balls and making base. Very humiliated when he failed to catch, almost morose.

Was it prophetic that a few days ago Laddie lost his one remaining ball? To be sure it was pretty old and spongy but anyhow it was available and would do till the new consignment came from Chicago. So Laddie and I romped with the old ball--Laddie all agog over the new green and balminess of the early spring day Then, and this was really tragic to Laddie and me Though we were both too polite to speak of it, for Laddie did not even ‘wuff,’ a ‘kitchen boy’ came down from the Commons on an errand. The springtime had gotten into his bones too and as he trod blithely along he spied Laddie’s precious ball Picked it up, went whistling away, tossing the ball as he went along Laddie and I, dismayed, gazed mutely at each other and I patted the lovely head in sympathy It was our last game of ball.

A great Highway goes through our little Parkville, the Highway that brings so much joy brings also its great measure of sorrow. It has taken another toll, our Laddie, though how or where we do not know . . . Laddie . . . Laddie . . .

On the way to the college athletic field there is a tomb made by student hands and under it lie the bones of Old Kate, the faithful College mule on whom the water supply of the campus depended in those earlier days. Old Kate lives tenderly and gratefully in the memories of those who knew her and her worth to the College Laddie was a part of the every day life of the College and village One asked, ‘Was his name on his collar?’ But Laddie needed no collar. Like one who achieves distinction and thereby is known, Laddie trotted up the village streets and over the campus and by devious trails, a monarch of all he surveyed He belonged not only to those who live in the (Park) White House but to many generations of college students, to the villagers too, but mostly, I think, though on this fact the President (Hawley) does not like to dwell, to Spencer (Cave) who superceded [sic] everyone in Laddie’s affection and from whom Laddie never transferred his first allegiance

I look achingly in vain for the sprawling white patch in the silver light of the moon . . . Laddie . . . Laddie. ”