In 1865, perhaps the homeliest of all American presidents died. He was also possibly the most capable, brilliant and beloved man who has lived in the White House. At 6 feet 4 inches tall, he was impossible to ignore, and socially awkward by all accounts.
He was a man of exceedingly humble origins, and he never forgot it. He was the third president to die in office.
In the same year that Abraham Lincoln was assassinated, Warren G. Harding was born. He grew into a man of striking appearance. In stark contrast to Lincoln’s physical ugliness, he was described as “more than handsome.” “His suppleness, combined with his bigness of frame, and his large, wide-set rather glowing eyes, heavy black hair, and markedly bronze complexion gave him some of the handsomeness of an Indian.” “His voice was noticeably resonant, masculine, warm.” “His manner…suggested generous good-nature, a wish to give pleasure, based on physical well-being and sincere kindliness of heart.”
In the deadlocked Republican Convention of 1920, supporters of the two leading candidates were forced to find a compromise presidential candidate. They landed on the sixth candidate in the field of six, choosing Warren G. Harding because he looked so much the part of a president.
In contrast to Lincoln, Harding is widely considered to be one of the worst American presidents. His speeches were “an army of pompous phrases moving over the landscape in search of an idea.” His merely average intellect appeared overwhelmed by the rigors of the job. His administration was riddled with scandal and corruption.
He did not have the chance to complete his disastrous first term. Two years into his presidency, Harding suddenly died from a probable heart attack. He was the sixth president to die in office.
We live in a day in which we are encouraged to set great goals by stretching our wings wider, achieving ever more significant accomplishments. We are told that if we believe in ourselves and try hard enough, we can attain anything, whether pushing for that job promotion we believe we deserve, or hoping to gain the recognition of a hard-fought achievement.
That may all be well, but sometimes that “anything” we are encouraged to accomplish at great personal expense might be best left for another. Like Harding, we could be extending ourselves beyond our gifting and flirting with disaster–in Harding’s case, overreaching beyond his abilities may have caused his heart to finally give out.
Perhaps it is better to do lesser things with greater excellence, to know the limits of our reach, to recognize and accomplish that which is truly within our ability and scope to do, and to do it well.
Maybe we’ve been “Harding-ized” just a bit–to believe the hype that there is more importance about ourselves than we are given credit for, so we pursue a never-ending, impossible quest to rise to the top.
There’s something to be said for recognizing and living within our own abilities. It’s better to be remembered for who we are–not for how we’re perceived.