When Lincoln was nominated in May of 1860, the whole Lincoln family quickly made the headlines. James A. Briggs, a republican lawyer who had arranged for Lincoln’s Cooper Union address not long before, wrote to him on May 25:
“You will pardon me for saying, there was to me a touching tenderness & beauty, and a real wealth of affection, in your remark upon the receipt of the telegraph account your nomination, ‘There’s little woman down at our house would like to hear this, I’ll go down & tell her.’”
That remark was heavily published around the nation.
Then there were the boys, namely Willie and Tad, attractinng much attention. At first, it was rather alarming. In late June, it was reported that Lincoln’s youngest child, “a remarkably bright boy of six years of age, is lying ill at the point of death, with scarlet fever. The parent is superior to the politician; Mr. Lincoln has not been seen outside of his house nor in it except at the bed of his child, since Friday last.” (Cleveland Daily Leader, June 30, 1860.)
On June 26, Lincoln wrote to Joshua R. Giddings, “Yours of June 19th was received . . . and its receipt would have been sooner acknowledged but for illness in my family . . . Mrs. L. joins me in remembrance and good wishes for you.” On July 4, he wrote to Anson G. Henry 1860 that it was Willie who was ill, not his youngest. Willie had “just had a hard and tedious spell of scarlet fever; and he is not yet beyond all danger. I have a head-ache, and a sore throat upon me now, inducing me to suspect that I have an inferior type of the same thing."
“Inferior scarlet fever”= strep throat. Scarlet fever (which I had as a child, because I don’t get a sore throat when I have strep and it was mistaken for a cold) seems to have been the real fear of parents at the time, much more so than something like measles. It killed many children, and left others with organ damage, blind, or deaf. I still remember the vivid hallucinations—sufferers require a lot of parental care. Possibly Willie suffered damage that contributed to his death from another infection in 1862.
Newspaperman F. A. Mitchel later recalled, with some embarrassment, meeting Tad and Willie, along with their father, for the first time. (Laurel Outlook, March 3, 1915).
“I was then twenty years old had been graduated from one of the large eastern colleges and had selected journalism for a ‘profession -When asked what was my vocation I did not reply ‘I am a reporter’ but ‘journalist.’ From this it is to be inferred that I had a high opinion of the newspaper business and a correspondingly high opinion of my own attributes being in so exalted a calling. My work was with a Chicago newspaper and some time after Abraham Lincoln's election to the presidency of the United States I was directed by the managing editor to go to Springfield see Mr. Lincoln if possible and get an interview. I arrived in Springfield in the morning and in the afternoon went to Mr. Lincoln's home. I was surprised at being admitted without any ceremony whatever and was ushered into a living room wherein sat the next president in a rocking chair. There were two little boys, his sons, with him, the one sitting on his shoulder maintaining his position by his grip with both hands on the president-elect’s hair. The other boy was climbing up behind with a view to dispute his brothers seat and to effect a similar lodgment on the other shoulder. Mr Lincoln was restrained from rising with one boy on his shoulder and another holding on to his coat collar. He excused himself for not doing so and put out his hand in a very friendly way But he made no move to stop the boys from their athletic amusement This did not seem to me quite in keeping with his dignity as the incoming chief executive of a great nation to me, a journalistic representative of a great newspaper. However, I repressed my feelings and began the interview . . . ”
On June 21, 1867, State Times (Jefferson City, Missouri) received a letter to the editor signed David Dod. I have been unable to locate someone with this name in the records, so it may have been a pseudonym or a misreading of his handwriting by the editor. The punctuation was far from ideal as printed, so I cleaned it up a bit for the sake of coherency.
Commenting on Frank B. Carpenter’s recently published book of Lincoln anecdotes, he proceeded to offer his own. In the winter of 1863, he had gone to Washington to seek a position, “partly through a feeling that I was perhaps as much entitled to it as any body, and partly because my friends advised me to go.” He was “armed with recommendation letters,” a then-common practice.
I need not say just now what the position was, only that it was not a Major-Generalship, but an office of trust. When Mr. Lincoln had read one or two of my letters, he quietly remarked ‘that will do,’ and leaning back in his chair said ‘come in tomorrow and bring Henderson with you or Blow [prominent Missouri politicians], and we’ll see what can be done.’ The next day Mr. Henderson kindly stepped out of the Senate Chamber and we rode to the White House. It was about 12 o’clock when the bell rang for the usher to ‘show the gentlemen in,’ after waiting in private Secretary Hay’s room until a delegation from Oregon had taken their leave. The President was quite alone, and welcoming Mr. Henderson in his accustomed heart manner he entered into conversation with him, touching the interests and prospects of Missouri. Presently the members of the Cabinet came sauntering in. First Chase, solid, impressive and reticent. Then Seward, with his portfolio and half burned cigar, lolled upon the sofa and surveyed the scene. Welles, Bates, and Blair came in like a parcel of school boys who had been out to play and at the ringing of the bell had hurried back to the master! In the presence of these august gentlemen Mr. Lincoln told a short story by way of relieving his auditors from any embarrassment they might experience, and proceeded to business. ‘This young man,’ said the President, looking at me, ‘asks for an appointment. Do you recommend him Henderson?’ Mr. Lincoln rarely prefixed ‘Mr.’ when addressing his friends—he seems to feel it to be too formal. Mr. Henderson replied that he had known me for a number of years &c., which is unnecessary to put in print, and then the President takes up his pen and writes something upon a slip of paper (I never knew what it was) placing it in a large envelope, directs it with his own hand and sends it over to the War Department. Just at this moment little Tad Lincoln came running into the room and going up to his father whispered something in his ear which made the President smile, and just as the lad is starting off Mr. Blair caught him and asked him if he was a good boy. The President’s attention is attracted by the question and answering for Tad said, ‘Yes, I think he is a good boy, he comes to my bed in the morning before I am awake, and climbs in and snugs up to me and I do like to have him come, for he is so much company.’ This single episode in the every day cares of office let out all the goodness of a great man’s heart, and for a few moments the eyes of all present were moistened. Then the little boy bounded out of the room, and the wheels of office revolved again.