Help Me, Aunt Fancy, You're My Only Hope

Hearing the words "bachelor president," one might conjure an image of a paunchy but dashing Michael Douglas romancing Annette Bening in The American President, Aaron Sorkin's imperfect but charming precursor of sorts to "The West Wing." And then you might get distracted and think: Bradley Whitford, what happened?!  

But the actions of Bartlet & Co., in all their snappy dialogued glory, are a topic for another T.I.D. (Don't fret, it will happen!) The perpetual bachelor president on the docket today is none other than lucky number 15, James Buchanan. Routinely voted one of the worst presidents this great nation has ever seen, dear old James has quite the cringe-worthy legacy.

His administration simultaneously ignored and aggravated the biggest problem of the time (uhhmmm....hi...global warming parallel? Afghanistan parallel? You be the judge) and yet here he is, featured posthumously in a T.I.D. This may raise a few eyebrows. We'll get to why we have love in our Grinch-like hearts for Prexy James in just a second. Just let us set the scene for you a little more...

"Old Buck," as he was sometimes called, was inaugurated two days before the Supreme Court voted on Dred Scott v. Sandford (one of the worst decisions this great nation has ever seen) and he quickly set about doing absolutely nothing to change the perception that Americans were pro-slavery. In fact, his acting First Lady (his beautiful, romanced-by-English-royalty niece, Harriet Lane) set forth an edict: there would be no talking about abolitionism in the White House. To put it in plainer terms, if you're ever wondering: hey, who can I blame for the Civil War? the answer basically is: James Buchanan.

It wasn't like he was a stupid man - after all, it does take some moxie to be elected President, no matter who you are. He was also hard-working, or at least dogged (he lost his bid for the presidency three times before his lucky number four run in 1856). Buchanan was educated. He was cultured. He was well-traveled (former US ambassador in London). He was savvy. He knew shit was going down. It weighed heavy on his soul. But he is remembered for his inaction.

We're not in any way, shape, or form Buchanan apologists. He screwed up his presidency perhaps more thoroughly than a certain pretzel-choker. We know that like we know our left from our right.

But it is possible that he did at least in part because of Love, with a capital "L"? A love that didn't dare speak its name back then, and occasionally doesn't dare speak its name nowadays? Could James Buchanan have been America's First Gay President? Flying the rainbow flag over the White House, so to speak? Some historians say yes. And for the purposes of this T.I.D (and yes, we actually believe it ourselves), we're going to run with it.

After an engagement to a lady that ended with her dying from a laudanum overdose (hello, Lily Bart?), Buchanan was never linked to another woman. He was, however, roommates and close (how close, exactly, is the subject of great debate) friends with William Rufus deVane King, a dashing senator from Alabama. The South to Old Buck's North, King was, unsurprisingly, ardently pro-slavery (but anti-secession).

After meeting as senators in the 1830s, the two bachelors began cohabiting in our nation's lovely capital. Although this domestic bliss was sometimes interrupted by prestigious political appointments it continued until King's untimely death in 1853, a few scant months after being sworn in as Franklin Pierce's Vice-President, and less than four years before his long-time, um, roommate would be elected President.

So what's the evidence that Buchanan and King were more than just fond friends, 19th-century American exemplars of agape? Well, there are the nicknames. Andrew Jackson, in between slaughtering Native Americans, enjoyed calling King "Miss Nancy." "Aunt Fancy" was also a popular epithet. Others preferred to title him "Buchanan's better half," or to refer to the pair as "Buchanan and his wife." Were these just joking and/or nasty names thrown around the homophobic homosocial boys club of DC? Quite possibly.

But then there are the letters. Before you get too excited, Buchanan and King's respective nieces burned a lot of their correspondence after their deaths. The most incriminating, if you will, missive that remains is from Buchanan to a Mrs. Roosevelt (way before Eleanor, although she probably would have been into it), in which he laments King's absence (King was off being minister to France). In it he writes:

I am now 'solitary and alone', having no companion in the house with me. I have gone a wooing to several gentlemen, but have not succeeded with any one of them. I feel that it is not good for man to be alone, and [I] should not be astonished to find myself married to some old maid who can nurse me when I am sick, provide good dinners for me when I am well, and not expect from me any very ardent or romantic affection.

And so you see why historians have their suspicions. Would that some long-lost missive from James to William Rufus be uncovered, proving their love once and for all...

Cailey: Lordy, we love writing about Old Buck!

Liz: I know! Can we shut up already and get to the TID?

Cailey: I think we just did...

Liz: Phew!

Cailey: You know, some say that it was King's influence on Buchanan that made him pro-slavery, in the end.

Liz: That his tall, dark glass of Southern Comfort basically told him that if he did away with the vile practice, the American economy would collapse, leading to utter chaos? Yeah.

Cailey: Although King had actually been six feet under for a few years by the time Old Buck was in the White House. But perhaps his manly, loving, racist influence was felt from beyond the grave. Ya gotta be careful who has your ear when you're the president.

Liz: *coughcough* Dick Cheney *coughcough*.

 Cailey: So would President James Buchanan tear it down?

Liz: You know, I think he would want to...but at the end of the day...probably...um...not?

Cailey: OK, we'll think about it and get to that. So in this TID, Buchanan and King - now alive! - come riding up to 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue...

Liz: Again, we enter our sort of etherworld...the same one we used for Henry Rex.

Cailey: Right. We have to go here when we're dealing with temporal impossibilities...

Liz: After all, Nazism didn't exist in the Antebellum years. Though it might as well have, in some ways...

Cailey: Speaking of messing with temporal reality...this might be the best thing SNL has done since...well, for a long time:

Liz: Check out when the flags switch, folks - very much up the TID alley!

Cailey: So back in ether Washington, D.C, King and Buchanan ride up to the White House.

Liz: And in front of their eyes they see an abomination, a terrible, terrible thing...

Cailey: A Nazi flag! On the White House! Gaah!

Liz: That's such a disturbing image...

Cailey: I know. It's making me feel ill. Also, deja vu...

Liz: Beyond gross. Way way way worse than a tea party convention.

Cailey: James Buchanan kicks his horse forward, his distinguished silver hair and sideburns glinting in the sunlight, his hoity-toity suit pressed and pristine despite the long ride, totally intent on tearing the flag down and resolving the situation the way he knows in his heart he should.

Liz: But King puts out his arm and stops him abruptly.

Cailey: And King speaks aloud, in his alluring, captivating drawl...

Liz: I daresay he sounds a mite like Rhett Butler. Or like a mix of Rhett and Josh Turner.

Cailey: And I daresay we might have to link to that Colonel Angus SNL sketch again to remind ourselves of just how he talks.

Liz: I know, right? Southern accents are hot. But potentially not to be trusted...

Cailey: Anyway, William Rufus King stops Old Buck by saying..?

Liz: "Don't be too hasty, Miss Nancy..."

Cailey: And Buck replies: "Whyever not, Aunt Fancy?"

Liz: "Well now, you wouldn't want to make enemies among the Nazis, now would you. They could cause no end of trouble to you and yours, not to mention you and I. If they got whiff of what we're up to...we might lose our livelihood, our lives, our families..."

Cailey: Whoa, stop. I feel like we just entered Brokeback territory.

Liz: Basically King tells Buchanan not to tear down the flag lest he piss off the wrong people.

Cailey: Right. He tells Buchanan to put his own personal welfare, safety, and comfort above the Greater Good and the needs of his people.

Liz: A truly unheroic sentiment. King makes Buchanan a coward. A pussy. A FAIL.

Cailey: And Buchanan listens, either because deep down he agrees with him, or because he wants to placate his lover and keep him around.

Liz: Love is dangerous.

Cailey: Especially if you're a bachelor president.

Liz: 'Nuff said.

Cailey: So Old Buck takes one wistful look at the flag, sighs, then dismounts and walks into the White House, arm in arm with his man.

Liz: Yes. Because ether D.C is a very accepting land.

Cailey: Indeed. Gay presidents are par for the course in ether D.C.

Liz: Yeah, well let's keep monitoring the political career of Charlie Crist. They could end up par for the course in this world, too.

Cailey: I like Crist.

Liz: I like him more now that he's running as an independent in Florida.

Cailey: True.

Liz: There's also Congressman Aaron Schock (pictured below...no, really, that hot piece represents a district)

Cailey: Is he gay? Really? But he's so damn hot!! Grrr...another one off the market...

Liz: We'll just have to wait and see on Schock. I'd bet...oh...let's say $250 that he is, indeed, gay. Time will tell. We said it here first.

Cailey: Huh. In the meantime we have Barney Frank.

Liz: Gay Uncle Barney! I wish he were my real uncle.

Cailey: *sigh* Me too.

Liz: Thus, for all his faults, we raise a glass to President James Buchanan.

Cailey: To Old Buck. A potential trailblazer in his own special way.

Liz: Slaìnte.

Cailey: L'Chaim.

FIN.