When forming a mental picture of George Washington, many of us likely flip through the brain rolodex to recall a portrait of the founding father staring back at viewers in a stately manner or calmly seated before the Continental Congress. However, these cool-as-a-cucumber depictions marked a stark contrast to reality, as Washington was often in pain from the tooth problems he endured for most of his adult years.

Whether due to childhood neglect, poor diet, or genetics, Washington had his first tooth pulled at age 24 and spent the rest of his life trying to play catch-up with fastidious attention to oral health. It wound up being a losing battle, as he was saving his pulled teeth for use in dentures by his early 50s. While real human teeth were a prize component of dentures, Washington accepted sets that included animal teeth as well as lead-tin, copper, and silver alloys — though notably not wood, as is often erroneously reported. By the time of his inauguration in 1789, the first U.S. president was wearing a customized set of dentures, built by New York dentist John Greenwood, that featured hippopotamus ivory and an array of gold wire springs and brass screws to hold its human teeth in place.

Unfortunately, the access to cutting-edge dental technology didn’t translate to an improved quality of life for Washington, who dashed off a series of letters to his dentist in later years that complained of the discomfort and bulging caused by his dentures. Still, the general seemed to realize there was little that could be done in this longtime war of attrition within his mouth, and when his final real tooth needed to be pulled in 1796, he gifted it to Dr. Greenwood.

Being the supreme commander of a victorious army is usually enough to make one a popular presidential candidate, but it can’t hurt to have the geniuses behind some of the world’s most beloved songs and films as prominent supporters. One such talent was Irving Berlin, who captured the widespread public approval for a Dwight D. Eisenhower presidency with his jaunty ditty “They Like Ike” in the 1950 musical Call Me Madam. In early 1952, with the NATO general still formally sitting out the race, Berlin unveiled a rewritten version of his show tune, titled “I Like Ike,” as part of a successful effort to push Eisenhower into the ring.

With Illinois Governor Adlai Stevenson emerging as the Democratic nominee, Eisenhower’s team sought an advantage by developing the first-ever presidential campaign TV commercials. One series of ads, created by crack advertising executive Rosser Reeves, featured the Republican candidate genially answering policy questions posed by people on the street. But the Eisenhower camp had an even stronger card to play, and they reached out to the Walt Disney Company for assistance in early autumn. 

The result was a pair of 20-second and minute-long animated commercials that featured people happily marching along to another “I Like Ike” jingle (this one not written by Berlin). Although Stevenson responded with his own series of sing-along and animated ads, the governor admittedly was no fan of this form of self-promotion, and he was never able to overcome the popularity deficit that allowed Eisenhower to cruise to an easy win in November 1952.

John Wilkes Booth will forever be infamous for assassinating the man widely regarded as the greatest president in American history, but not all Lincoln-Booth relations were strained. A year or two before Honest Abe’s death, in fact, Edwin Booth — the older brother of John and a prominent actor — saved the life of Lincoln’s son Robert Todd Lincoln, who was then in his early 20s. (The precise date is unknown, but the event is believed to have taken place in either 1863 or 1864.)

The younger Lincoln found himself on a crowded train platform in Jersey City, New Jersey, and was accidentally pushed off the platform as a train departed. “In this situation the train began to move, and by the motion I was twisted off my feet, and had dropped somewhat, with feet downward, into the open space, and was personally helpless,” Robert Todd Lincoln later wrote of the event that put him in the path of the oncoming train. It was then that Booth grabbed him by the coat collar, saving him. Booth was well known enough as an actor for Lincoln to recognize his rescuer and even thank him by name. In April 1865, the day after his brother assassinated Lincoln, Edwin vowed never to return to the stage — a short-lived promise, as he gave an acclaimed performance in the title role of Hamlet the following year.