Bryan Stalder
Contributor

Recent events have once again forced the nation to confront the chilling reality of political violence, reminding us that the safety of the President of the United States is never guaranteed. As we witness the heightened tensions surrounding the Saturday, April 25 attempt on President Trump’s life, our collective memory naturally drifts back to other moments when the lives of our elected leaders have been threatened.

As we look at the modern presidency in 2026, marked by the sobering reality of multiple attempts on our leaders’ lives, it’s worth remembering a time when the “People’s House” was so accessible that the President’s front door opened right onto the sidewalk. When Harry and Bess Truman moved into the White House in 1945, they found a building that was literally falling apart. Centuries of “slapping a coat of paint on it” had masked deep structural rot. Chandeliers swayed with every footstep, floors creaked dangerously, and the peril became undeniable when a leg of Margaret Truman’s piano famously crashed through a ceiling into the family dining room below.

Ever the practical Missourian, Truman ordered a total gut renovation. From 1948 to 1952, the White House was reduced to a hollow shell of steel beams, forcing the Trumans to take up residence across the street at Blair House. At the time, Pennsylvania Avenue wasn’t the fortress it is today; it was a functioning city street. The concept of a “security perimeter” was almost non-existent; for much of American history, the public could—and often did—wander right up to the porch.

Living at Blair House meant the President was just feet away from the public, separated only by a thin brick wall and a standard sidewalk. It was the violence that erupted there that forever changed how we protect our leaders.

On November 1, 1950, while President Truman was napping in an upstairs bedroom, two Puerto Rican nationalists—Oscar Collazo and Griselio Torresola—approached the house armed with semi-automatic pistols. They hoped to assassinate Truman to draw global attention to their independence movement. What followed was a chaotic, three-minute gunfight—the most violent in the history of the Secret Service.

Private Leslie Coffelt was stationed in a small guard booth outside the house. He was struck three times in the chest and abdomen almost immediately. Despite being mortally wounded and losing consciousness, Coffelt regained his senses, leaned out of his booth, and took a single, steady aim. He shot Torresola in the head from 30 feet away, killing the assassin instantly and ending the attack.

Truman, awakened by the thunder of gunfire, actually ran to the window to see the commotion. A frantic guard shouted for him to get back just as the smoke was clearing. Similar to President Trump’s steely resolve, Truman went on with his scheduled appointments later that day, famously remarking, “A President has to expect those things.”

The imposing black iron fences of 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue act as a barrier,  and they are the direct result of the blood spilled on that November afternoon. After the attempt on Truman’s life, the casual “walk-up” access to the Presidency ended, and the permanent fortification of the executive branch began.

Leslie Coffelt remains the only member of the Secret Service to be killed in the line of duty while protecting a President. Today, a small plaque on the fence at 1651 Pennsylvania Avenue honors his ultimate sacrifice. On a recent visit to Washington, D.C., I found it difficult to even glimpse this memorial; the perimeter is so restricted that I was forced to take my photos from a distance, a stark contrast to the world Truman inhabited.

As Missourians prepare to celebrate Truman’s birthday, we can take pride in his legacy. In a time when the world was in chaos and the very walls of his home were crumbling, Truman remained the “common man” from Jackson County— steady and resolute, even when the fight came to his front door.

Whether all Americans agree with the politics of the day or the leaders in power, the history of Blair House reminds us that the safety of the office is a burden carried by heroes like Private Coffelt— and a legacy shaped by a neighbor from Independence. Each May 8, we recognize the birth of Harry S. Truman: the plain-spoken county judge who rose to the most powerful desk in the world without ever losing his Missouri grit.

Happy Birthday, Harry.