My year of Theodore Roosevelt

At a bookstore on New Year’s Day, I noticed a copy of Colonel Roosevelt. Edmund Morris has finished his three volumes about the youngest man to become U.S. President.

 I realized that I remembered little from The Rise of Theodore Roosevelt, which chronicled Roosevelt from birth to becoming the youngest man ever to serve as president. It should come as no surprise that I count Roosevelt as my favorite president.

Not often would I envy someone in the Oval Office, but few presidents enjoyed the job as much as TR. Beyond his presidency, the man had a well of energy, an unrivaled zest for learning and love of the natural world. Sure, he had flaws – his conservationism came with love for hunting big game, his presidency fell short on race and the imperial tendencies raise a host of other problems.

 Since I read The Rise of Theodore Roosevelt, Morris had completed Theodore Rex, a study of his presidential years, and finally Colonel Roosevelt, which surveys his later years. The latter takes its title from TR’s preferred post-presidency honorific, a nod to his rank as a Rough Rider.  In 2013, the 155th anniversary of Roosevelt's birth, I would finish all three.

But what strikes me most about Roosevelt was his timing; after a collection of relatively anonymous Republican presidents (plus non-consecutive Grover Clevelands), McKinley’s assassination brought a young, vibrant man to the presidency at the start of a new century. As the Big Lebowski’s narrator described the Dude, “Sometimes there’s a man for his time and place” That’s true of Roosevelt. In his day, “dude” was a term no one self-applied and one Dakotans applied to Roosevelt when he was fresh off the train from New York City.

Roosevelt’s ascent to the presidency could have felt less mythic. Descending from Mount Marcy, the highest point in his home state of New York, he went from carriage to train to take the Oath of Office in Buffalo. With the new century still in its early years, Roosevelt’s journey down the mountain becomes instant legend.

For all his imperialistic talk, Roosevelt’s skills at diplomacy become apparent in negotiating a peace between the Russians and the Japanese. He also understood realpolitik, playing a key role in Panama’s secession from Colombia, which set the stage for the Panama Canal’s construction. Later, he left office, doing everything possible to aid election of his chosen successor, William Howard Taft.

The euphoria of his presidency, eight years that seemed to zip by, does not last. Early in Colonel Roosevelt, I couldn’t help but feel sad.

Rising to the presidency requires a peculiar strain of ego. As TR demonstrates, it does not respond well to retirement at 50. He would barely live another decade. Those years would be marked by failures, tragedy and misadventures. His popularity among the American people would never wane, and that must have been equally tough for the sidelined Roosevelt.

 His African expedition is a bloodbath by modern standards. Roosevelt killed hundreds of animals, gunning down eight elephants in one day. He also claimed six white rhinos. Those actions are disturbing in the 21st century, when so many species tip toward extinction.

Roosevelt’s steps back into politics came painfully. His 1912 campaign was disastrous for both Roosevelt and the Republicans. His formation of the Bull Moose Party and his rift with close friend Taft and the Republican Party reveal a man unable to cope without his exile from country’s top job and upset at how his successor governed. Watching Taft fail to follow up or finish off his achievements irked Roosevelt.

His physical prowess finally broken down. The Colonel never recovered from his trip on the River of Doubt. The ill-fated expedition down an unmapped Brazilian river nearly cost Roosevelt his life. His years of boxing, climbing and all manners of physical exertion left him worn down and aged beyond his years. A boxing injury took his sight in one eye.

Personal losses shook Roosevelt the deepest. Early in his life, he lost his first wife Alice and his mother on Valentine's Day 1884. A later loss impacted his declining health.

The death of his youngest son, Quentin, during World War I seemed a breaking point. He last only six months after Quentin died. Roosevelt’s health had been failing, a detailed account exists of his last moments, of his breath growing labored and eventually ceasing. With a rough death in the family this year, the details became unshakable.

 As the year ends, I’m drawn back into TR’s years courtesy of Doris Kearns Goodwin. In The Bully Pulpit, Goodwin examines the parallel lives of TR and Taft, their friendship and the new breed of journalism that sprang up in the early 20th century. After finishing more than 2,000 pages of Roosevelt in 2013, why shouldn’t I start 2014 with another 800?