There is something grimly humorous in watching a man shake hands with a multitude at the rate of fifty a minute. Up and down the arm and hand go, like a pump handle or the rhythmic heat of a piston. I [start page 429] watched the President at Memorial Hall last Tuesday afternoon when he greeted five thousand citizens, and I confess I was amazed. My first feeling was one of amusement. To hear the President mumble constantly, "Glad to see you." "Pleased to see you," in the same monotone, to watch the shake, the mechanical motion of the arm, the sudden jerk with which he half pulled -- yanked it was, truly -- the person just greeted, and the astonished, semi-stupefied look on the shaked one's face -- all this and more was inimitably funny.
But soon the feeling of amusement gave way to one of wonder, and then of compassion that a Chief Executive should have to submit to such an ordeal, and finally to unbounded admiration and amazement at the extraordinary vitality shown by the President.
The McKinley grip deserves special description; it is unique in its line. It allures the caller, holds him an instant, and then quietly and deliberately 'shakes' him. Mr. McKinley is not a tall man by any means; indeed he is, if anything, considerably below what I should consider the medium height -- five feet ten. Consequently his 'shake' is considerably lower than a handshake you get from the average-sized man. The hand goes out straight for you, there is a good warm pressure of the palm, a quick drop, a jerk forward and the thing is over. There is something besides the extended outstretched palm to allure you, and that is Mr. McKinley's beaming countenance.
When greeting the public he never ceases to smile. It is not a forced smile; it invites you forward and compels your own smile in spite of yourself. It is so genuinely honest, too, that one can not but conclude that, onerous as these receptions must be to the President's physique, he nevertheless enjoys them thoroughly. Long before the reception was over the President showed unmistakable signs of fatigue; his jaw began to droop and blackish rings formed under his eyes, but the smile -- beaming, inviting -- remained, and it lasted as long as there was one citizen to greet.
Such occasions are the best in which to study the real traits of a man. If there is anything better qualified to produce irritability than a public reception with a lightning handshaking on the side, I do not think it has been discovered. I am frank to confess that Mr. McKinley showed traits during that ordeal that were both admirab]e and lovable. He was particularly kind to the veterans. His heart went with his hand to them. [start page 430] Several of them, dazed and bewildered, no doubt, would have passed him by unheeded in their excitement.
His arm halted them, his hand sought theirs, and he never failed to say 'comrade' to them. To the ladies he was gracious, especially so to the feeble, older ones, and to the tots, the toddlers and the growing young Americans he was like a father. I saw him detain a mother who was carrying a tiny mite on her arm. Mr. McKinley fussed with the muslins and the woolens of the mite until he found its chubby little hand, which he pressed tenderly. That mother did not say a word, but tears of joy glistened in her eyes as she passed beyond.
I'll venture that nobody went away from that reception feeling offended. McKinley's grip is a manly grip; it is a handshake given with genuine pleasure. It is the grip of a man of flesh and blood and of a sympathetic soul.
