Contrary to popular belief, The Scrapbook is not interested just in affairs of state or in cultural controversies. The Scrapbook takes a healthy interest in trivial matters as well. Consider, for example, the new speaker of the House, Rep. Paul Ryan of Wisconsin, whose boyish demeanor has caused a certain amount of comment in the nation’s capital precisely because it is a little less boyish than before. That is to say, Speaker Ryan seems to be growing a beard.
This would not, in and of itself, mean anything other than the fact that Speaker Ryan is letting his beard grow. The Scrapbook has done some research on the subject and is prepared to suggest that Ryan has not given up shaving for charitable purposes, or for superstitious reasons, or in observance of his hometown’s (Janesville, Wisconsin) centennial—which, in any case, was 62 years ago.
He seems to have decided to grow a beard. End of story.
But not necessarily. For one thing, Paul Ryan is widely considered to be a politician of not just uncommon appeal and ability but standard ambition, and the number of bearded men in contemporary American politics is severely limited. Indeed, when Al Gore briefly let his stubble grow a few years ago, it was widely regarded as an indication that he had given up any lingering hopes of running, ever again, for the presidency. None of the current candidates for the White House—even outliers like Bernie Sanders and Donald Trump—sports so much as a pair of sideburns, much less a mustache, or goatee, or full Ryan-style beard.
The fact is, of course, that beards are not in political fashion at the moment; but that was not always so. One of our greatest presidents, Abraham Lincoln, grew one between his election and inauguration, and his famous chin whiskers seem not to have harmed his reputation. As recently as 1941, a bearded chief justice of the United States (Charles Evans Hughes) administered the oath of office to President Franklin D. Roosevelt for the third time.
Still, the last bearded speaker of the House was Frederick Gillett (1919-25), a genteel soul from Massachusetts, and the last speaker with any facial hair whatsoever was his successor, the mustachioed Nicholas Longworth (1925-31), now best remembered as the husband of Theodore Roosevelt’s daughter, Alice. This leads us to the conclusion that Speaker Ryan is either sending a subliminal message that he is not available to be drafted next year by a deadlocked Republican party—or, conversely, that he is deliberately standing out from the crowd to give nervous Republicans hope.
Either way, The Scrapbook wishes him well, and commends his apparent defiance of style and political convention. As most males can attest, it doesn’t take much effort to grow a beard; but there is more than one way to look like an outsider.
