Andrew Jackson—Fought in Duels and Kept a Giant Wheel of Cheese
Andrew Jackson, the seventh president of the United States, wasn’t just a fiery populist or the founder of the Democratic Party—he was, quite literally, a man who carried bullets in his chest and cheese in his foyer. Known for his volatile temper and deeply personal sense of honor, Jackson reportedly took part in as many as 100 duels during his lifetime, though most never escalated to gunfire. His most infamous duel, however, did. On May 30, 1806, Jackson faced off against Charles Dickinson, a fellow planter who had insulted Jackson’s wife, Rachel. Dickinson, a crack shot, fired first and struck Jackson squarely in the chest. Remarkably, Jackson remained standing, took careful aim, and fatally shot Dickinson. The bullet near his heart was never removed—and Jackson carried it for the rest of his life.
But Jackson’s eccentricities weren’t limited to pistol duels. In 1835, a group of New York dairy farmers gifted him a gargantuan 1,400-pound wheel of cheddar cheese. Instead of quietly disposing of it, Jackson let it age—right in the White House—for two years. Then, in a gesture of populist flair, he opened the doors of the White House to the public and served the cheese at a farewell reception in 1837. Thousands attended, and the entire wheel was consumed in under two hours. The stench, however, lingered for months, seeping into the carpets and drapes.
Jackson’s legacy is a mix of ferocity, populism, and—you guessed it—dairy. Between the dueling pistols and the pungent cheese, no other president left behind a stranger combination of bravado and aroma.
John Quincy Adams—Swam Naked in the Potomac Every Morning
John Quincy Adams, the sixth president of the United States, had a morning routine that would raise more than a few eyebrows today: he regularly swam nude in the Potomac River. Beginning in 1817 during his tenure as Secretary of State and continuing throughout his presidency (1825–1829), Adams would rise before dawn, walk nearly two miles from the White House, and plunge into the river—usually around 5 a.m.—for a brisk swim. He believed the cold water invigorated both body and mind, and he documented the practice frequently in his personal diaries, describing it as essential for his health and clarity of thought.
Adams often swam alone, though occasionally accompanied by his son or his manservant, Antoine Giusta. One harrowing entry from 1825 recounts how a small boat he was in began sinking, forcing him to dive into the river midstream. Despite warnings from family and friends about the hazards of swimming at his age, Adams remained undeterred well into his 60s. His commitment to this ritual reflected not only his belief in physical discipline but also his personal eccentricities—traits that set him apart from many of his contemporaries.
Perhaps the most legendary tale tied to this habit involves Anne Royall, one of America’s first female journalists. Having been repeatedly denied an interview with the president, Royall reportedly tracked down Adams during one of his early morning swims. According to lore, she sat on his clothes until he agreed to talk. Whether apocryphal or not, the story cemented Adams’ aquatic habit in presidential folklore. While skinny-dipping may have been more culturally acceptable for men at the time, Adams’ unwavering dedication to this unorthodox practice makes him one of the most delightfully peculiar figures in White House history.
Herbert Hoover—Spoke Mandarin Chinese with His Wife in the White House
Herbert Hoover is mostly remembered for presiding over the beginning of the Great Depression—but behind the somber headlines lies one of the most linguistically quirky presidencies in American history. The 31st president and his wife, Lou Henry Hoover, were known to speak Mandarin Chinese in the White House. Yes, Mandarin—spoken not just for show, but as a kind of private code. When they wanted to keep their conversations confidential from staff or guests, they’d switch languages mid-sentence, baffling eavesdroppers and perhaps even a few diplomats.
The origin of this unique couple’s multilingualism dates back to the turn of the 20th century. From 1899 to 1901, the Hoovers lived in China during Herbert’s tenure as a mining engineer, a period that coincided with the tumultuous Boxer Rebellion. It was here that both began studying Mandarin, but Lou proved the true linguist of the pair. According to historical accounts, she became proficient enough to read and write Chinese characters—an incredibly rare skill for any American at the time, let alone a future First Lady.
While Herbert’s fluency may have been more basic, their shared use of Mandarin became a charming oddity of their time in the White House. It wasn’t just a parlor trick—it reflected their international experience, intellectual curiosity, and, in Lou’s case, a genuine mastery of language. In a presidency often overshadowed by economic catastrophe, this linguistic quirk offers a humanizing—and frankly surprising—glimpse into the private world of a president and his polyglot partner.
Calvin Coolidge—Had an Electric Horse and Enjoyed Having His Head Rubbed with Petroleum Jelly
Calvin Coolidge, the famously stoic 30th president of the United States, wasn’t exactly known for his exuberance—his nickname was “Silent Cal,” after all. But beneath that tight-lipped exterior was a man of peculiar routines that would feel more at home in a Wes Anderson film than a White House memoir. Among his strangest indulgences? A mechanical electric horse and a scalp massage involving generous helpings of petroleum jelly.
Let’s start with the horse. In 1925, Coolidge received a mechanical riding horse invented by none other than Dr. John Harvey Kellogg—the same man who brought the world corn flakes and a bevy of bizarre health contraptions. Designed with a leather saddle, a wooden neck, and a two-speed motor (trot and gallop), the contraption mimicked real horseback riding. Coolidge, whose Secret Service detail had banned him from riding actual horses for safety reasons, took to it with enthusiasm—reportedly using it up to three times a day to stay fit, all without leaving the White House grounds. The device now resides at the Calvin Coolidge Presidential Library in Massachusetts, a relic of one man’s commitment to exercise—no matter how unorthodox.
Then there’s the petroleum jelly. According to multiple accounts, Coolidge began each morning with a head massage—while eating breakfast—during which a White House valet would rub Vaseline into his scalp. He believed this practice prevented colds and preserved his health. Imagine the scene: the leader of the free world calmly spooning oatmeal while someone smeared jelly across his head. It’s the kind of image that sticks with you.
Both habits reflect a deeper truth about Coolidge: his eccentricities weren’t for show. They were part of a personal regimen rooted in early 20th-century wellness trends and a desire for control in an unpredictable world. In a presidency often defined by restraint and silence, it’s these bizarre rituals that whisper volumes about the man behind the office.
Richard Nixon—Installed a Secret Tap System and Talked to Portraits
Richard Nixon’s presidency was already a political thriller—then came the secret tapes. In February 1971, Nixon authorized the installation of a covert, sound-activated taping system in the White House, including the Oval Office, the Cabinet Room, and his private study in the Executive Office Building. The idea? To create an unfiltered archive of conversations for his memoirs and, reportedly, to avoid relying on note-takers he didn’t fully trust. What began as a quest for control over his own narrative ended up becoming the most self-incriminating act of his presidency. The system captured over 3,700 hours of recordings, with only about 200 hours directly related to the Watergate scandal—yet those were damning enough to end his presidency in 1974, making him the only U.S. president to resign from office. The tapes’ existence was revealed during Senate hearings in 1973 by aide Alexander Butterfield, setting off a constitutional crisis that culminated in the Supreme Court’s landmark ruling in United States v. Nixon.
But Nixon’s quirks weren’t just political—they were deeply personal. As the Watergate scandal spiraled, aides reported that the president would roam the White House late at night, often with a drink in hand, speaking to the portraits of former presidents like Lincoln and Wilson. These one-sided conversations, equal parts eerie and tragic, reflected Nixon’s growing isolation and mental strain. In those final months, the 37th president wasn’t just battling investigators—he was grappling with ghosts, both literal and metaphorical.
Theodore Roosevelt—Kept a Pet Hyena and Gave Speeches After Being Shot
Theodore Roosevelt wasn’t just a president—he was a force of nature. Known for his booming voice, boundless energy, and larger-than-life persona, Roosevelt embodied the “strenuous life” he so famously championed. But even by his own adventurous standards, two moments from his life stand out as particularly bizarre: keeping a pet hyena at the White House and delivering a speech after being shot in the chest.
Let’s start with the hyena. In 1904, Emperor Menelik II of Ethiopia gifted Roosevelt an unusual diplomatic token: a laughing hyena named Bill. Initially skeptical—Roosevelt thought hyenas were cowardly—he eventually warmed up to Bill, feeding him table scraps and allowing him to roam the White House grounds. Bill became just one member of Roosevelt’s sprawling presidential menagerie, which included a bear, a badger, and a one-legged rooster. When Bill outgrew the Executive Mansion, he was transferred to the National Zoo, where he lived out his days in more suitable quarters.
But Roosevelt’s most legendary act of grit came on October 14, 1912. While campaigning in Milwaukee as the Progressive Party’s presidential candidate, he was shot in the chest by a would-be assassin. The bullet passed through his steel eyeglass case and a folded 50-page speech in his coat pocket—slowing its impact but still lodging in his chest. Refusing immediate medical help, Roosevelt told the stunned crowd, “It takes more than that to kill a Bull Moose,” and proceeded to speak for 90 minutes with blood soaking through his shirt.
These episodes weren’t mere stunts. They reflected Roosevelt’s deep belief in resilience, spectacle, and personal courage—qualities that made him one of the most eccentric, and unforgettable, presidents in U.S. history.
Donald Trump—Broke Political Norms with His Twitter Presidency
Donald Trump’s presidency wasn’t just unconventional—it was a digital spectacle that rewrote the rulebook on presidential communication. While past presidents relied on press briefings, vetted speeches, and the occasional fireside chat, Trump took to Twitter with the fervor of a cable news pundit live-streaming his inner monologue. Between 2009 and January 2021, he tweeted nearly 57,000 times, with over 25,000 of those tweets issued during his four years in office. At its peak, his Twitter account had 88.9 million followers—more than the population of Germany—turning his phone into one of the most powerful political tools in the world.
What made Trump’s so-called “Twitter presidency” so bizarre wasn’t just the volume—it was the tone, timing, and content. He announced firings (like Secretary of State Rex Tillerson), military decisions (such as the transgender ban in the armed forces), and foreign policy positions in real-time, often blindsiding his own staff. His tweets regularly included personal insults, conspiracy theories, and misinformation, especially during the 2020 election—a pattern that led Twitter to flag or remove numerous posts and ultimately ban him from the platform following the January 6 Capitol riots. That ban, however, was lifted by Elon Musk in 2022, though Trump has since favored his own platform, Truth Social.
Trump’s Twitter era didn’t just rattle traditionalists; it redefined what “presidential” means in the digital age. His direct, unfiltered style bypassed media gatekeepers and reshaped the relationship between the White House and the public. Whether you saw it as transparency or chaos, one thing is certain: no president before him had ever governed in 280 characters or less—and it’s unlikely anyone will do it quite the same way again.
