You’ve probably heard the myth since you were in second grade. It's one of those classic American legends: George Washington, the man who couldn't tell a lie, had teeth made of wood. It’s a nice, rustic image. It fits the whole "pioneer spirit" vibe we like to attribute to the Founding Fathers.
But it’s totally wrong.
The reality of George Washington false teeth is actually much more complex, significantly more painful, and—honestly—a little bit grim. Washington didn't wear wood. Wood would have been terrible for dentures anyway; it would have splintered and soaked up saliva like a sponge, turning into a soggy, rotting mess within days. Instead, our first president wore high-tech (for the 1700s) contraptions made of ivory, gold, lead, and, most controversially, real human teeth.
He spent his entire adult life in a losing battle against his own mouth. By the time he was inaugurated in 1789, he had exactly one natural tooth left. One. Imagine trying to lead a revolution and birth a nation while your face is literally collapsing because your gums are receding and your metal dentures are rubbing raw sores into your cheeks.
Why did his teeth fail so badly?
It wasn't just poor hygiene, though 18th-century dentistry was basically just "pull it out when it hurts." Washington was a fanatic about his appearance and actually bought toothbrushes and scrapers constantly.
The real culprit was likely a mix of genetics and the medicine of the time. During the French and Indian War, Washington was treated for smallpox and pleurisy. The standard treatment back then involved calomel, which is essentially mercurous chloride. Mercury is toxic. One of its lovely side effects is that it destroys tooth enamel and causes your teeth to fall out.
By his thirties, he was already paying dentists to wire his loose teeth back into his jaw. He was constantly writing to his family and agents to find "scrapers" or "dentifrice" (early toothpaste). He was obsessed. But the mercury had already done its work.
The grim materials of the Mount Vernon dentures
When the "wood" myth started, it was likely because the ivory dentures he wore would stain over time. If you drink enough Port wine and tea—which Washington definitely did—ivory becomes dark and grainy. To a casual observer, it looked like grain in a piece of oak.
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In reality, his sets were a morbid jigsaw puzzle.
One of the most famous surviving sets, currently held at Mount Vernon, is a heavy, terrifying device. The base is made of lead. Think about that for a second. He was walking around with lead in his mouth all day. The "teeth" were a mix of hippopotamus ivory and elephant ivory, carved to look like human molars.
But the front teeth? Those were often human.
Where did the human teeth come from?
This is the part that makes most people uncomfortable. In the 18th century, there was a thriving market for "living teeth." Poor people would literally sell their healthy teeth to dentists to be implanted into the dentures of the wealthy.
We know from Washington's own ledger books—which he kept with meticulous detail—that he purchased teeth from "Negroes." On May 3, 1784, he recorded a payment of 122 shillings to several enslaved people at Mount Vernon for nine teeth.
Historians like Mary Thompson at Mount Vernon have debated whether this was a "purchase" in the way we think of it today. While it was common for the poor to sell teeth, the power dynamic of slavery makes "consent" a very dark word here. It's a stark reminder that even the private medical history of the presidency is tied to the institution of slavery.
The mechanical nightmare of 18th-century dentistry
If you think your Invisalign is annoying, consider the mechanics of George Washington false teeth.
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His dentures weren't held in by suction. There was no Poligrip. Instead, the upper and lower plates were joined by heavy steel springs. These springs were designed to push the plates apart, forcing the top set against the roof of his mouth and the bottom set against his gums.
To keep his mouth closed, Washington had to constantly exert pressure with his jaw muscles. If he relaxed, his mouth would literally spring open.
This explains a lot about his famous portraits. Have you noticed how he has those very tight, compressed lips? He wasn't just trying to look "stoic" or "presidential." He was literally clenching his jaw to keep his teeth from flying out of his mouth while the painter worked. It also changed the shape of his face, making his lower jaw protrude and giving his mouth a sunken appearance that he hated.
The Dr. John Greenwood connection
Washington’s favorite dentist was a man named John Greenwood. Greenwood was a true innovator for his time. He was one of the first to use a foot-powered drill (adapted from a spinning wheel) to work on teeth.
Greenwood was the one who fashioned the set Washington wore during his presidency. He even left a little hole in the lower denture for Washington’s last remaining natural tooth to poke through. When that final tooth finally gave up the ghost and fell out, Washington gave it to Greenwood as a gift.
Greenwood kept it in a glass locket. He was proud of his work, but even he couldn't make the experience comfortable for the President.
How the teeth shaped American history
It sounds like a stretch, but his dental health actually impacted how he governed.
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Washington was famously quiet. People thought he was just a man of few words, a "silent leader." While that was partly his personality, a huge reason he didn't like to speak in public was because his dentures clattered. They made a clicking sound. They hissed. If he spoke too quickly or too loudly, they would slip.
His second inaugural address is the shortest in American history. It’s barely 135 words. Most historians agree that he kept it short because speaking was physically painful and socially risky. He was terrified of the embarrassment of his teeth failing during a speech.
Even his diet changed. He moved away from hard foods and focused on soft corn cakes and stews. The man who survived the freezing winters of the Revolution and led a ragtag army against the British Empire was essentially defeated by a plate of tough meat.
What we can learn from Washington's struggle
If you're looking for the "so what" of this story, it’s not just a bit of trivia to pull out at a dinner party. It’s about the human cost of leadership and the reality of life before modern medicine.
Washington’s teeth are a testament to his grit. Most people would have retreated into private life, but he continued to serve despite what we would now consider chronic, agonizing pain.
Actionable insights for history buffs and the curious:
- Visit Mount Vernon: If you want to see the real deal, don't go to the Smithsonian (they have a set, but Mount Vernon's display is more contextually rich). You can see the actual spring-loaded ivory and lead dentures there. Seeing them in person makes you realize how heavy they were.
- Check the ledgers: If you're a research nerd, the Papers of George Washington are digitized. You can search for terms like "teeth," "dentist," or "Greenwood" to see his personal correspondence about his dental woes.
- Don't believe the wood myth: When you hear someone repeat the wooden teeth story, you can gently correct them. The truth—that they were made of ivory and the teeth of enslaved people—is a much more important and honest reflection of the era.
- Appreciate modern dentistry: Next time you’re at the dentist, be glad nobody is trying to wire your teeth together with gold thread or selling you a set of hippo-tusk dentures with steel springs.
The story of George Washington false teeth is ultimately a story about the man behind the monument. We often treat the Founding Fathers like marble statues, but they were people who dealt with bad breath, bleeding gums, and the indignity of failing bodies. Knowing that Washington led the country while struggling to even keep his mouth shut makes his achievements feel a little more human and a lot more impressive.
If you want to dive deeper into the medical history of the era, look into the work of Dr. Susan Sullivan, who has written extensively on 18th-century healthcare. It’s a wild world of leeches, mercury, and sheer willpower.
To get a real sense of the physical toll, look at the 1796 portrait by Gilbert Stuart—the one on the dollar bill. Look at the tension in the mouth. That’s the face of a man fighting a machine made of ivory and springs just to stay composed. It’s the most honest part of the image.
The dentures represent a collision of high-society aspirations and the brutal realities of the time. They are symbols of status, pain, and the complicated ethics of the 1700s. We don't need the "wooden teeth" myth to make Washington's story interesting; the truth is already more than enough.