The President's Lost Cat: How Radio Brought Tige Home to the White House

On the night of Friday, March 21, 1924, a snowstorm settled over Washington, D.C., turning the White House grounds white. It was the kind of night made for curling up beside a warm fire — but one resident of the Executive Mansion had other ideas. Tige, a feisty seven-month-old tomcat marked like a tiger, had grown restless. Beloved by President Coolidge, who was known to drape the docile cat around his neck and carry him from the West Wing to the residence, Tige nonetheless had a wanderer's heart. That snowy evening, he slipped out of the White House undetected and disappeared into the storm.

The next morning, Saturday, March 22, the President was told his cat was missing. What followed was an anxious, fruitless search. Saturday passed, then Sunday, with White House search parties combing the grounds and turning up no trace of the little tomcat. The familiar routine — Coolidge calling "Here, Tige!" and the cat bounding to his side like a dog — had gone silent. As the hours stretched into days, worry deepened in the residence. Had Tige simply lost his way in the snow, or had someone taken him? The famously taciturn President, who rarely showed his feelings, was plainly troubled by the absence of his small companion.

By Monday, March 24, the Coolidges decided that an ordinary search would not be enough. They resolved to make a public appeal for Tige's return — but rather than turn to the local newspapers, they chose something startlingly modern. They would use the radio, a medium so new that regular broadcasting had begun in Washington only the previous summer. Its immediacy suited the urgency of the moment. Grace Coolidge, the First Lady and an enthusiastic radio listener, understood the reach of the new technology, and it was her Secret Service agent, James Haley, who was asked to deliver the plea.

That evening at 8:10 p.m., the Secretary of Agriculture had been scheduled to go on the air over station WCAP to discuss farm policy. Instead, he was told to stand by. Cabinet business would have to wait. Over the airwaves came Haley's voice with an appeal that would become a small piece of American history: "We regret to announce that the President of the United States has lost his cat. It was a seven months old Thomas cat, marked like a tiger and answered to the name of Tige. Tige has a very affectionate disposition and Mr. Coolidge was very fond of him. He has not been seen since Friday evening during the snowstorm. The President would appreciate it very much if anyone who has seen Tige would return him to his master. Thank you."

WCAP had a sister station in New York City, WEAF, and the two were linked by long-distance circuits, broadcasting the same program simultaneously. That night, the appeal for the President's cat carried far beyond the capital, reaching audiences throughout most of the country east of the Mississippi. The response was immediate and overwhelming. The White House was flooded with messages — many from well-meaning citizens offering to send along a replacement cat. One newspaper wryly predicted there might be a hundred cats at the White House by morning. But the Coolidges did not want a hundred cats. They wanted Tige.

The broadcast did its work. Early on the morning of Tuesday, March 25, a U.S. Army officer, Captain E. F. Koenig, spotted a cat walking aimlessly in the vicinity of 18th and B Streets — about six blocks from the White House, in the area near the Lincoln Memorial. Koenig had no idea he was looking at the President's cat, but he could tell the well-kept animal was no ordinary alley cat. He captured the bewildered Tige without difficulty and handed him over to Captain Edward Sullivan, who was in charge of the Navy guard force at the nearby Munitions Building. Sullivan, also unaware of the cat's famous home, did the kind thing anyway: he fed the hungry animal and tucked him safely into a closet for keeping. Soon after, once the connection to the White House was made, Tige was carried home and returned to the Coolidges.

The reunion delighted the President. Word of Tige's return brought relief and celebration to the Executive Mansion, and the normally reserved Coolidge was reported to have broken into a warm smile at the news. Determined not to lose his roaming companion again, he had a special collar made, engraved with Tige's name and "The White House," so that anyone who found the wandering cat would know exactly where he belonged.

Tige's snowstorm adventure did more than warm the hearts of a worried First Family. It became a landmark demonstration of the power of a young technology. As the Associated Press observed at the time, the radio — already used to locate missing persons and stolen automobiles — had now proven equally effective at finding a missing cat. A century later, the image endures: a lost tomcat, a President who could not bear to lose him, and a nation tuning in to help bring him home.