The Mediocre Presidents

If you’re like many Americans of a certain age, you learned of the premature death of William Henry Harrison, our ninth president, from The Simpsons’ classic song “The Mediocre Presidents.”

Featured in the season four episode, I Love Lisa, the song is introduced by Principal Skinner as a tribute to our “lesser-known” presidents. But who are these presidents and just how lesser-known are they? I’m glad you asked.

The Players

The dance number features eight of the kids of Springfield, but the song only name-checks five presidents:

There’s Taylor, there’s Tyler, there’s Fillmore and there’s Hayes,

There’s William Henry Harrison.

I died in thirty days!

For those keeping score, that’s:

• Zachary Taylor, 12th president (1849—1850)

• John Tyler, 10th president (1841—1845)

• Millard Fillmore, 13th president (1850—1853)

• Rutherford B. Hayes, 19th president (1877—1881)

• William Henry Harrison, 9th president (1841—1841)

A deep analysis reveals three unidentified presidents. Springfield Elementary icon, Martin Prince, and two lesser-known children are left out of the roll call.

If it’s not obvious from the mutton chops, Martin is clearly Chester A. Arthur. This is confirmed later in the episode when Bart, as John Wilkes Booth, attacks the presidents, calling Arthur out by name.

This leaves us with two unknown mediocre presidents, played by unknown kids, themselves perhaps mediocre.

We can narrow down their identities through a few clues in the wardrobe. The clothing evokes the Gilded Age or earlier, an era ripe with mediocre presidents. So, we’ll eliminate any presidents after the 20th Century, mediocre as they may be. Going the opposite direction on the timeline, if we wander too far past Martin Van Buren (hardly lesser-known) we run into a stacked list of Founding Fathers. Our lackluster commanders-in-chief must reside somewhere between Andrew Jackson (1829-1837) and Teddy Roosevelt (1901-1909).

The Springfield Elementary theatre department also appears to be a stickler for historically accurate facial hair, as shown on the named presidents. One of our two unidentified presidents has a beard, the other is clean-shaven. With bearded Hayes already off the board, and Lincoln and Grant far from obscure, only James A. Garfield and Benjamin Harrison remain.

Verdict: Benjamin Harrison, 23rd president (1889—1893).

There’s a good chance that even before the Netflix show, a decent number of people were at least aware there was a president named Garfield, and a good number of those people may have even known he was assassinated. There was a Johnny Cash song about it. Unlike the short-lived presidents on this list, Harrison had a full term to mire in mediocrity. If you know anything about him (you don’t), it may be that he was the grandson of fellow mediocre president William Henry Harrison, whom you know at least one thing about. If you are blessed enough to know two things about him, the second may be that he was the guy sandwiched between two terms of Grover Cleveland. He did fine.

That leaves the clean-shaven president. Sticking with the post-Jackson to Roosevelt era, we’re left with:

• James K. Polk, 11th president (1845—1849)

• Franklin Pierce, 14th president (1853—1857)

• James Buchanan, 15th president (1857—1861)

• Andrew Johnson, 17th president (1865—1869)

• William McKinley, 25th president (1896—1900)

Webster’s Dictionary defines mediocre as “of moderate or low quality, value, ability, or performance.” It’s fair to remove presidents that failed to achieve even “moderate or low quality.” Andrew Johnson was mediocre at best. He was impeached and narrowly escaped removal from office (although he did teach himself to read, which is pretty badass). Then there’s Buchanan who is just flat out terrible, bordering on treasonous. Frequently ranked last by presidential historians, he went beyond simply sleepwalking the country into the Civil War, he actively enabled southern secession - not a very mediocre move.

Like Garfield before him, McKinley was assassinated, but not before completing a full term and being reelected to a second. Not exactly a household name today, but a meaningful presidency usually judged above mediocre.

Then there’s Polk, a one-term dynamo. He seized the Southwest from Mexico, negotiated Oregon away from the British, and called it quits as promised after one term. How can you be mediocre if They Might Be Giants do a song about you? He’s out.

The cold, hard process of elimination places the mediocrity squarely on Franklin Pierce, a tragically mediocre president. But you’d be mediocre too if you had to watch your children die in front of you, which Pierce did on three separate occasions, including once in a horrific train wreck just before inauguration. Depressed and indecisive, he did nothing to stop the nation’s long stumble towards civil war and went on to drink himself to death. Mediocre may be generous.

The Presidents

With the ambiguous presidents resolved, let’s take a closer look at those called out in the episode. Just how mediocre were they?

William Henry Harrison, 9th president

Life: February 9, 1773 – April 4, 1841

On the Job: March 4, 1841 – April 4, 1841

Party: Whig

Place of Birth: Charles City County, Virginia, British America

Prior Occupations: U.S. Senator (Ohio), Soldier

Nickname: Old Tippecanoe

Mediocre? Short answer: “yes” with an “if.” Long answer: “no” with a “but.” It might be unfair to be labeled mediocre after dying with only a month on the job, but in Harrison’s case, unfulfilled potential is his greatest asset. Had he lived long enough to get anything done he might have been better known for expanding slavery into the territories. Instead, he decided he didn’t need to wear a coat or edit down his inauguration speech and now he’s known for being the guy who died in thirty days.

John Tyler, 10th president

Life: March 29, 1790 – January 18, 1862

On the Job: April 4, 1841 – March 4, 1845

Party: Whig

Place of Birth: Charles City County, Virginia, U.S.A.

Prior Occupations: Vice President, U.S. Senator (VA), lawyer, “planter”

Nickname: His Accidency

Mediocre? Definitely. Tyler stumbled into the job after Harrison’s untimely demise. It wasn’t clear at the time if the vice president became president in the event of the president’s death but Tyler didn’t wait for some powdered wig wearing activist judge to decide the question. No, he immediately took the oath office, setting the Tyler Precedent, later formalized by constitutional amendment. Once in office, he broke with his own party and languished in the political wilderness. Easily the most interesting thing about Tyler was his proclivity to procreate. He fathered fifteen children by two mothers, by far the most of any president, over the span of forty-five years. His youngest daughter lived until 1947. Even crazier, his grandson - not great-grandson, grandson - died just this year. Tyler was born in 1790. The genes, at least, are not mediocre.

Zachary Taylor, 12th president

Life: November 24, 1784 – July 9, 1850

On the Job: March 4, 1849 – July 9, 1850

Party: Whig

Place of Birth: Barboursville, Virginia

Prior Occupations: Major General - U.S. Army

Nickname: Old Rough and Ready

Mediocre? Staggeringly. It’s still unclear if Taylor really wanted the job. Zach was just some dude they made president. He had never even voted before running for president and didn’t care for politicians. His views were unknown to the point where both parties wanted to nominate him. He ultimately went with Whigs, because of reasons. Once in office, he just chilled out and let the country do its thing. Aside from a pretty good treaty with Britain over a future canal in Central America, he left no trace after dying from eating bad ice cream at a fundraiser. The Whigs could not catch a break. They elect just two presidents and both die on the job. And their successors, well, we’ll get to that.

Millard Fillmore, 13th president

Life: January 7, 1800 – March 8, 1874

On the Job: July 9, 1850 – March 4, 1853

Party: Whig

Place of Birth: Moravia, New York

Prior Occupations: Vice President, Comptroller of New York, lawyer

Nickname: Wool Carder President

Mediocre? Mediocrity, thy name is Millard. Stop me if you’ve heard this one: a lackluster vice president assumes office after a Whig president dies from an illness, then is abandoned by his party. Nobody likes Millard! The Whigs just couldn’t get it together, they ceased to exist as a party shortly after Fillmore’s presidency. Fillmore epitomizes the forgotten, mediocre president; masterful only in the art of can kicking. Out of office, MF’er went on to live his best life, marrying a rich widow and traveling the world. He even met Queen Victoria and Pope Pius IX. It’s good to be the president, mediocre or not.

Rutherford B. Hayes, 19th president

Life: October 4, 1822 – January 17, 1893

On the Job: March 4, 1877 – March 4, 1881

Party: Republican

Place of Birth: Delaware, Ohio

Prior Occupations: Governor of Ohio, lawyer

Nickname: Granny Hayes

Mediocre? Upper tier mediocrity. Lesser-known for sure, but he did alright. He came to office following a disputed election, resulting in the alleged Compromise of 1877, wherein the Republicans gained the presidency in exchange for relaxing Reconstruction. In office, he pushed through some civil service reforms and brought stability to the position. A caretaker president if there ever was one. Fun fact, he has a province in Paraguay named after him thanks to his role in arbitrating a peace deal between that country and Argentina, awarding Paraguay over half of its current territory. Not bad.

Chester A. Arthur, 21st president

Life: October 5, 18291 – November 18, 1886

On the Job: September 19, 1881 – March 4, 1885

Party: Republican

Place of Birth: Fairfield, Vermont

Prior Occupations: Vice President, Chairman of the New York G.O.P., “civil servant”

Nickname: Elegant Arthur

Mediocre? Hardly. Lesser-known? Absolutely. But far from a mediocre president. Would a mediocre guy go around looking like that? Arthur fell into the job following the assassination of President James Garfield just six months into his term. It was widely believed Arthur would bring back the Grant-era spoils system once in power due to his association with the Stalwart wing of the party. But he shocked the insiders by pushing through Garfield’s civil service reforms instead. Mark Twain wrote of him, “It would be hard indeed to better President Arthur’s administration.” He was also our best-dressed president, owning 80 pairs of pants. His extravagant style earned him the nickname Elegant Arthur and The Dude President. And the Dude did abide.