Last updated: October 31, 2020
Article
Hurrah for Hancock
Library of Congress
One of the more amusing anecdotes from the 1880 front porch campaign is based on a reminiscence published decades later. The story was recalled for the Cleveland Daily Leader on Wednesday, April 6, 1904. It was attributed to James F. Ryder, a Cleveland photographer who earlier in his career had worked in Kirtland and Painesville, communities to the south and east of Mentor.
An earlier claim to fame was his encouragement of Archibald Willard to paint famous The Spirit of ’76, during the Centennial year of 1876. Ryder photographed several U. S. Presidents, including James Garfield. He also photographed Eliza Garfield, the president’s mother.
Ryder’s little story appeared two months before his death at age 78. The story is below:
“During the Garfield-Hancock campaign, I went frequently to Mentor, O., where Garfield made most of this campaign speeches. One day I arrived with a large delegation from parts afar. The yard in front of the porch was filled with cheering men. Garfield raised his hand to silence them, in order to be heard. “Hurrah for Hancock!” yelled a very small boy seated on a gatepost near where I stood.
“Why, my boy,” I said, “Isn’t that rather unbecoming in a gathering like this – what’s your name?”
“Abram Garfield,” came the answer.
An earlier claim to fame was his encouragement of Archibald Willard to paint famous The Spirit of ’76, during the Centennial year of 1876. Ryder photographed several U. S. Presidents, including James Garfield. He also photographed Eliza Garfield, the president’s mother.
Ryder’s little story appeared two months before his death at age 78. The story is below:
“During the Garfield-Hancock campaign, I went frequently to Mentor, O., where Garfield made most of this campaign speeches. One day I arrived with a large delegation from parts afar. The yard in front of the porch was filled with cheering men. Garfield raised his hand to silence them, in order to be heard. “Hurrah for Hancock!” yelled a very small boy seated on a gatepost near where I stood.
“Why, my boy,” I said, “Isn’t that rather unbecoming in a gathering like this – what’s your name?”
“Abram Garfield,” came the answer.