The team at Trump Tower turned heads last week when word slipped that Ivanka Trump, the incoming first daughter, is eyeing an office suite in the East Wing normally reserved for the first lady. A spokesperson for the transition denied the rumor, though few insiders doubt that Ivanka will play a prominent role in her father’s administration.
But as commentators were quick to point out, it wouldn’t be the first time for someone other than a presidential wife to act as “first lady,” a role with no formal set of rules or established parameters. In the early 19th century, two widower presidents turned to family members to act as official White House hostess: Thomas Jefferson enlisted the aid of his daughter, Martha, and Martin Van Buren turned to his daughter-in-law, Angelica. Between 1857 and 1861, Harriet Lane played the part—and played it exceedingly well—for her bachelor uncle, James Buchanan.
To those who would argue that Donald Trump is neither a widower nor a bachelor—he has a living and breathing wife -- here, too, there is historical precedent. For several years during her husband’s tenure in office, Eleanor Roosevelt declined to fulfil the traditional role of White House hostess, preferring to devote her time to public and political work. Her daughter, Anna, stepped into the function.
Much about the Trump presidency seems likely to break with two centuries and more of historic precedent, but history by no means suggests that Ivanka Trump can’t or shouldn’t act as first lady, particularly if her step-mother prefers to maintain a private life, out of the public spotlight (as should be her right). But with the role comes great scrutiny, a very high ethical bar and stringent obligations to the public. Given her family’s frequent and indecorous habit of mixing business with politics, it’s not at all clear that she’s up for the task.
***
Few presidents were better prepared to assume the highest office in the land than James Buchanan, a former United States senator, minister to Russia and the United Kingdom, and secretary of State. And few proved such abject failures. The Civil War may have been an “irrepressible conflict,” as William Seward characterized it, but by ineptitude and flagrant pro-slavery bias, Buchanan probably sped its arrival.
If Buchanan made a single good decision during his presidency, it was in asking his niece, Harriet Lane, to serve as White House hostess. The daughter of Elliot Lane, a merchant, and Jane Buchanan, the president’s sister, Lane was orphaned at the age of 11. She asked to be entrusted to James, her favorite uncle. Buchanan, who was immensely fond of his niece, placed her in a boarding school in Charleston, Virginia (later, West Virginia), where she excelled at history, astrology and mythology but exhibited a fiercely strong will that made her something of a disciplinary problem. James, now secretary of State, moved Lane to the Visitation Convent school in Georgetown, where she hit her stride, adding a facility for piano, art and horsemanship to her list of talents.
Now close to Washington, Lane developed an intense interest in public affairs. Other men of his age might have discouraged this passion, but Buchanan cheered his niece on, allowing her to attend meetings and conferences in his office. By the time that Buchanan retired temporarily to his new estate, Wheatland, just outside Lancaster, Pennsylvania, Lane was well-known to members of Congress, diplomats, journalists and political hangers-on. She accompanied Buchanan to Wheatland and subsequently to London, where she served as hostess and quiet, informal adviser to her uncle during his tenure as minister.
The relationship between uncle and niece was warm, affectionate and complicated. Lane enjoyed the company of suitors but resisted marriage, calling the young men who vied for her affections “pleasant but dreadfully troublesome.” Buchanan, in turn, accepted that Lane was an independent spirit. When they were apart, his letters to her were full of practical advice and sparing in expressions of affection (“believe me to be yours with the highest consideration,” he offered in a rare display of warmth, however restrained). He wanted her to marry but only to someone with sufficient financial wherewithal and “good moral habits” and instructed, “Never engage yourself to any person without my previous advice.” Buchanan was more at ease in discussing affairs of state with Lane—testament to his regard for her intellect and counsel.
As White House hostess, Lane offered a pleasant departure from her predecessor, the dour, austere Jane Pierce. Under her guiding hand, the mansion became a gathering place for artists and musicians, parties and receptions were more gay, and the presidency enjoyed a new injection of glamor. In 1860 newspaper readers followed with delight a visit by Edward Albert, the prince of Whales (later, King Edward VII). The 19-year-old royal and Lane, who was 11 years his senior, toured Mount Vernon, played games of tenpins and danced at an official reception.
But Harriet was more than an entertainer. She became intensely interested in the well-being of Native Americans and lobbied her uncle, as well as members of Congress, to provide more generous educational and health care opportunities to Indian tribes. It was also by her doing that the government banned illegal liquor sales and removed Christian missionaries from Indian territory. A quiet opponent of slavery (though by no means a political abolitionist), she served as an informal conduit between social reformers and the president.
Most people in the know understood that Buchanan trusted Lane’s counsel. It was for this reason that in 1860, Frank Leslie’s Illustrated Newspaper referred to her as “the first lady of the land.” It was the first occasion of the term, and it quickly stuck. In this sense, Harriet Lane, though not a presidential spouse, was in fact the first “first lady.”
***
Late one night in the summer of 1942, with America’s war mobilization in full thrust, Franklin Roosevelt asked his wife, Eleanor, to curtail her political activities and punishing travel in order to assume the role of hostess at his nightly cocktail hours and White House dinners, and to accompany him on weekend trips to Shangri-La (as Camp David was then known) and Hyde Park. “I think he was really asking her to be his wife again in all aspects,” their son, Jimmy, would later offer. “He had always said she was the most remarkable woman he had ever known, the smartest, the most intuitive, the most interesting, but because she was always going somewhere he never got to spend time with her.”
Since she discovered Franklin’s affair with Lucy Mercer, her private secretary, some two decades earlier, Eleanor had kept a studied distance from her husband. They functioned as close political partners—she was instrumental in his political comeback, following a debilitating onset of polio that left him paralyzed. They also enjoyed a close, complicated, relationship that was emotionally but not physically or romantically intimate. As first lady, Eleanor enjoyed great clout and served both as her husband’s eyes and ears—traveling widely (as he could not) to gauge and influence public opinion—and personal emissary to liberal activists and civil rights proponents. She wrote a daily syndicated column, “My Day,” which became almost as influential as the president’s fireside chats in conveying the administration’s programs and principles. She was arguably the most important first lady in history and, though her relationship with Franklin grew stronger during the war, chafed at the idea that she should relegate herself to the ceremonial duties of White House hostess.
Which is why in 1942 Eleanor declined FDR’s request and instead turned the responsibility over to her daughter, Anna, who henceforth served as hostess and assistant to the president.
With her husband away in the service, Anna had been living on the third floor of the White House. She subsequently moved to the family quarters on the second floor and took over the Lincoln Suite—a bedroom that had once been Abraham Lincoln’s office, with a small, adjoining room that had been his secretary’s outpost. “With no preliminary talks or discussions,” she later recalled, “I found myself trying to take over little cores that I felt would relieve Father of some of the pressure under which he was constantly working.”
Anna welcomed the opportunity to stand at the side of her emotionally distant father, whose attention she had always craved. But she had to walk a fine line with her mother, who—though she did not want to fill the position of hostess—guarded her position. When Eleanor was in town, she—not Anna—enjoyed the coveted place next to Franklin.
In some ways, Anna was a better fit for the role, strictly speaking. “Father could relax more easily with Anna than with Mother,” her brother, Elliot observed. “He could enjoy his drink without feeling guilty. Though Mother had gotten to the point where she would think she was relaxing, she was always working.”
Anna would never fill her mother’s shoes. Eleanor was then and remains unparalleled in her position as a presidential spouse. Mother, not daughter, was the political powerhouse in the family. But with time, Anna’s role grew “like Topsy, because I was there all the time and it was easy for Father to tell someone to ‘ask Anna to do that’ or to look over at me and say, ‘Sis, you handle that,’” she would write. She may have exaggerated the point when she said it was “immaterial to me whether my job was helping to plan the 1944 campaign, pouring tea for General de Gaulle or filling Father’s empty cigarette case,” but Anna was in every way a powerful first daughter, filling many of the external functions of a first lady.
“Anna’s day at the White House begins at 6:45 a.m.,” readers of Time magazine learned. After breakfasting in her suite and sending her son off to kindergarten with a Secret Service agent, she remained with FDR “until Johnny comes marching home.” After a full day of official work, Anna “will preside over social engagements and welcome visitors of state any time Eleanor Roosevelt is off on a trip”—yet the unassuming presidential hostess and aide “made it plain that she will not be considered an assistant hostess. She has reiterated … instructions to the State Department’s protocol office: at White House guest dinners, ‘Put me anywhere, I’m not official.’”
***
75 years later, the Trump family is apparently pondering a similar arrangement whereby it may bestow on Ivanka Trump some or all of the functions of first lady. History gives them every right to do so. From outward appearances, the president-elect trusts Ivanka’s judgement every bit as much as James Buchanan trusted Harriet Lane’s; equally, he appears to find comfort and confidence in her presence, just as FDR did in the company of his daughter, Anna.
But that’s where the historical rationalization ends. Neither Harriet Lane nor Anna Roosevelt enjoyed an executive position in a sprawling, family-owned business empire. When they broke bread with foreign heads of state or attended meetings with powerful government officials— officials who reported to the president—they did not stand to benefit materially from their favored position.
If Ivanka Trump is to occupy an office in the White House, she and her husband must liquidate their assets and place them in a blind trust. There is no historical precedent—indeed, it breaks with all historical precedent—for a first lady to use her office for personal profit. Even if Ivanka were to stop auctioning “charity” coffee dates and selling knock-off convention dresses, the very possibility of a business conflict creates a conflict, ipso facto.
Being first lady means placing country above self. If Ivanka isn’t prepared to do that, she should stay in Manhattan.