William Howard Taft
- Greg McNeilly
- Sep 15
- 2 min read
September 15. The date comes and goes. William Howard Taft was born this day in 1857, Cincinnati, Ohio.
He was the kind of man who carried weight, in every sense. Lawyer. Judge. Governor of the Philippines. President.
And then, what he wanted most: Chief Justice of the United States. The only American to hold both offices.
His life was not the romance of Roosevelt. Not the oratory of Wilson. He was steadier. More deliberate. Less remembered.
But he left his mark: Trust-busting, conservation, the income tax amendment, the Court itself shaped under his hand. He belonged to the law, always.
We remember him today. Not with speeches. Not with marble. But with a poem. For William Howard Taft.
WILLIAM HOWARD TAFT
Well-born in Cincinnati, a judge’s steady son.
In law he found his footing, the bench before forty done.
Loyal to Roosevelt, then heir to the White House seat.
Laid trust-busting cases, saw corporate giants beat.
In tariffs he stumbled, progressives turned away.
Advised by Nellie, yet found politics dismay.
Minded conservation, forests and mines preserved.
Held the Philippines in order, reforms he calmly served.
Oversaw the Canal, as War Secretary’s role.
With “Dollar Diplomacy,” made commerce the goal.
Amid the split of 1912, his party torn apart.
Ran, but lost to Wilson, a bruised and heavy heart.
Dreamed not of power, but of justice on the bench.
To the Court he ascended, where his spirit did quench.
As Chief he left his mark, procedures tight, refined.
First and only statesman to wear both robes in kind.
Taft’s true legacy endures—in law his name aligned.
By Greg McNeilly
