Alice Roosevelt Longworth: What People Get Wrong About the Wildest Daughter of Teddy Roosevelt

Alice Roosevelt Longworth: What People Get Wrong About the Wildest Daughter of Teddy Roosevelt

Alice Roosevelt Longworth was a lot. Honestly, calling her the daughter of Teddy Roosevelt almost feels like an understatement, like calling a hurricane a "bit of wind." She didn't just live in the White House; she practically haunted it with a cigarette in one hand and a pet snake named Emily Spinach in the other.

She was a rule-breaker.

The American public in the early 1900s was obsessed with her. She was the first real "celebrity" child of the modern era, a woman who stayed relevant through eighteen presidential administrations. Think about that for a second. From her father’s rugged "Big Stick" diplomacy all the way to the Jimmy Carter era, Alice was the sharpest tongue in Washington D.C. She wasn't just some socialite. She was a political power broker who used wit as a weapon.

The Chaos of Being the Daughter of Teddy Roosevelt

Living with Theodore Roosevelt wasn't exactly a quiet experience. He once famously said, "I can either run the country or I can control Alice. I cannot possibly do both." It’s a great quote, and it’s actually true. Alice was born into tragedy—her mother, Alice Hathaway Lee Roosevelt, died just two days after she was born. Teddy was so devastated he basically couldn't look at his daughter for a while. He even banned the name "Alice" from being spoken in his house for years.

That kind of beginning does something to a person.

She grew up hungry for attention, and boy, did she get it. When the family moved into the White House in 1901, Alice was seventeen. While the rest of the country was still deeply entrenched in Victorian-era modesty, Alice was out there placing bets with bookies and driving cars at high speeds through the streets of D.C. She smoked on the roof of the White House because her father forbade her from smoking under his roof. Technically, she followed the rules. Sorta.

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The "Princess Alice" Phenomenon

People were genuinely obsessed with her. Every move she made was front-page news. There was a color named after her—"Alice Blue"—which sparked a massive fashion trend. She was the "It Girl" before the term even existed. But she wasn't just a fashion icon. She was a diplomat. Sort of.

In 1905, she joined a massive diplomatic mission to Asia. We’re talking about a trip through Japan, the Philippines, China, and Korea. While she was there, she jumped into a ship’s pool fully clothed just to dare a Congressman to do the same. But behind the antics, she was observing. She was learning the levers of power that her father pulled so effectively. This trip wasn't just for show; it solidified her status as a woman who could hold her own in a room full of world leaders.

A Marriage of Convenience and Conflict

Alice eventually married Nicholas Longworth, a Congressman from Ohio who would later become the Speaker of the House. It looked like a power couple match made in heaven. The wedding was the social event of the century. She cut the wedding cake with a sword. Literally, a sword she borrowed from a military aide.

But things weren't exactly a fairytale.

Longworth was a womanizer and a heavy drinker. Alice, never one to be a victim, eventually had an affair with Senator William Borah. It’s widely understood by historians today—and was a poorly kept secret in D.C. at the time—that her daughter, Paulina, was actually Borah’s child. Alice even joked about it. She was nothing if not brutally honest, even when the truth was scandalous.

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The "Viper" of Washington Social Life

If you were a politician in the mid-20th century, you wanted to be invited to Alice's house. But you were also terrified of her. She had a pillow in her salon that famously said: "If you haven't got anything nice to say about anybody, come sit next to me."

She wasn't just being catty. She was influential. She used her wit to dismantle people she didn't like. She famously referred to Thomas Dewey, the 1944 Republican presidential candidate, as "the little man on the wedding cake." It’s a line that arguably helped tank his public image. She also had a long-standing feud with her cousin, Eleanor Roosevelt. While Eleanor was the "do-gooder" and the face of the New Deal, Alice was the staunch Republican who loved to mock "Cousin Eleanor’s" earnestness.

It wasn't just petty jealousy. Alice represented a different wing of the Roosevelt legacy—the sharp, cynical, traditionalist side that found the New Deal to be an overreach of power.

Why She Still Matters Today

Most celebrity kids fade away. They become a footnote in their parents' biographies. Alice didn't. She remained "The Other Washington Monument" well into her 90s.

She survived her husband. She survived her daughter. She even survived breast cancer (undergoing two mastectomies when the procedure was much more brutal than it is today). Through it all, she remained the definitive expert on how Washington actually worked. She saw the transition from horse-and-buggy to the moon landing, and through every decade, the daughter of Teddy Roosevelt stayed relevant because she refused to be bored—and she refused to be boring.

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If you’re looking to understand the real Alice, you have to look past the "wild child" headlines. Underneath the rebellion was a woman who was intensely lonely but incredibly brilliant. She was a polymath who read voraciously and understood the intricacies of the Constitution better than half the people sitting in the Oval Office.

To really "get" Alice, you should look into these specific historical touchpoints:

  • The 1912 Bull Moose Campaign: Watch how she supported her father’s third-party run, even when it split her family and her husband’s political party.
  • The League of Nations Fight: Alice was a key player behind the scenes in defeating the U.S. entry into the League of Nations. She worked with the "Irreconcilables" to ensure her father’s rival, Woodrow Wilson, failed.
  • Her Memoirs: She wrote a book called Crowded Hours. It’s a bit guarded, but it gives you a sense of her voice—dry, detached, and incredibly sharp.

Alice Roosevelt Longworth died in 1980 at the age of 96. She didn't want a funeral. She didn't want a big fuss. She just wanted to be remembered for her mind. And maybe for the fact that she was the only person who could make Teddy Roosevelt nervous.

Take Actionable Steps to Learn More:

  1. Read "Alice: Alice Roosevelt Longworth, from White House Princess to Washington Power Broker" by Stacy A. Cordery. This is widely considered the definitive biography. It avoids the gossip-column fluff and gets into the political grit of her life.
  2. Visit Sagamore Hill. If you’re ever in Oyster Bay, New York, visit the Roosevelt family home. You can see the environment that shaped her—a mix of high-intensity intellectualism and outdoor ruggedness.
  3. Check out the Library of Congress archives. They hold many of her papers and photos. Seeing the "Alice Blue" gowns in person (or in high-res archives) puts the sheer scale of her fame into perspective.
  4. Analyze the 1905 Taft-Roosevelt Mission. Use this as a case study in how social "soft power" was used in early 20th-century American diplomacy. Alice wasn't just a guest; she was a tool of her father’s foreign policy.

The life of the daughter of Teddy Roosevelt teaches us that identity isn't just something you're born with; it's something you carve out with a serrated edge if you have to. Alice could have been a footnote. Instead, she became a legend by refusing to play the part of the "quiet daughter." She was loud, she was difficult, and she was exactly what a Roosevelt was supposed to be.