As a young child in the 1950s, I thought Eisenhower was the most boring man alive. I couldn’t understand why my parents talked about him as if he was somebody important. I’d seen him on TV, and he looked about as boring as anyone could. He reminded me of the accountant who worked in my father’s office, a little old man (he was probably 50) who looked and smelled like he polished his bald head with Noxema. When I came to visit my father at work, this man would tell me stupid knock-knock jokes and then laugh at them himself.  

And I knew that Eisenhower, or “Ike” as my father called him (like they were best friends or something), would behave the same way, if I was ever unlucky enough to meet him.  But my father liked Ike. Dad  disapproved of Democrats because he said they spent too much of his money on things people should do for themselves. He liked Ike because he was prudent and frugal and never got excited about anything. My thoughts exactly.  

Ike’s wife Mamie was just like him. Really if you’re lucky enough to be the First Lady, should you be allowed to be so dowdy? Mamie wore stupid hats like my grandmother, and when she smiled she looked like she wished she didn’t have to. I was sure that Ike married her precisely because he didn’t want to be excited.  

For many years I equated the word “boring” with Eisenhower and it wasn’t until I was a grad student in history that I realized there was a little more to the man.