Within days of a presidential election—and sometimes personal defeat—the chief executive typically invites the president-elect to the White House to tour the private quarters, facilitate the transition and signal national unity after a bruising campaign. The tradition began in 1841 when President-elect William Henry Harrison met President Martin Van Buren at the White House multiple times before his inauguration. (President Donald Trump did not extend an invitation following Joe Biden’s election, but Biden revived the tradition days after the 2024 vote.)

Several encounters between political rivals have proven not only awkward—but downright hostile. President Herbert Hoover thought his successor, Franklin D. Roosevelt, “very badly informed and of comparably little vision” after their first post-election meeting. The relationship further eroded when Roosevelt rebuffed Hoover’s plea to jointly address the Great Depression. After Hoover arrived 30 minutes late to an afternoon tea with Roosevelt’s family on inauguration eve, an argument between the incoming and outgoing presidents over the country’s banking crisis left Roosevelt’s eldest son infuriated at Hoover. “I was sure Jimmy wanted to punch him in the eye,” Roosevelt recalled.

Presidents and presidents-elect traveled separately to the inauguration until 1837. That’s when Andrew Jackson shared a carriage with his vice president and successor, Van Buren, in the first joint procession to the swearing-in ceremony at the U.S. Capitol. Forty years later, Rutherford B. Hayes became the first president-elect to meet the sitting president at the White House before journeying together to the inauguration.

On occasion, the shared ride between the incoming and outgoing presidents has been as frosty as the winter wind whipping Capitol Hill. After their contentious White House visits, Hoover spent much of the automobile ride to the ceremony refusing to look at Roosevelt—let alone speak to him. (Following testy transitions, four presidents—John Adams, John Quincy Adams, Andrew Johnson and Trump—skipped the inaugural ceremonies of their successors altogether.)

A modern inaugural tradition started in 1989 when President Ronald Reagan scribbled a note of encouragement to his successor, George H.W. Bush, on a pad featuring a cartoon of turkeys surrounding an elephant, the Republican Party symbol, and the caption “Don’t let the turkeys get you down.” Each successive president has penned a similar letter of congratulations and support on White House stationery—even to political foes. “Your success now is our country’s success. I am rooting hard for you. Good luck,” Bush wrote to President-elect Bill Clinton in 1993.

In addition to the oath of office specified in the Constitution, every incoming president since Franklin D. Roosevelt in 1933 has punctuated the 35 words with “so help me God.” According to inauguration historian Jim Bendat, the phrase was added by Chester A. Arthur in 1881—and not by Washington, as some have speculated.

Several slip-ups have occurred in the oath’s administration. Twenty years after taking his own oath as president, Chief Justice William Howard Taft flubbed a word when swearing in Hoover. Listening on the radio, 13-year-old Helen Terwilliger noticed the mistake and sent Taft a note. The jurist stubbornly denied the error but eventually conceded when newsreels proved the eighth grader correct.

During the 1800s, outgoing presidents often accompanied new presidents back to the White House following their inaugurations. Theodore Roosevelt started a new tradition in 1909 by departing for home directly from the Capitol after the swearing-in ceremony. Since 1977, new presidents and first ladies have escorted their predecessors to the presidential helicopter for a short flight to Joint Base Andrews and an awaiting airplane. As the helicopter circled the White House one final time in 1989, Reagan gazed out at his former residence and quipped to his tearful wife, Nancy, “Honey, there’s our little bungalow down there.”

A lunch break is among the new president’s first orders of business after taking the oath. Starting in the mid-1800s, the outgoing president and first lady hosted their successors at White House luncheons. Since 1953, the incoming president has been the guest of honor at a Capitol luncheon sponsored by the Joint Congressional Committee on Inaugural Ceremonies. Senators and representatives welcome the new administration with gifts, speeches and toasts. Menu items usually include regional favorites of the new president and vice president, such as the New England stuffed lobster and Texas ribs served at the 1961 inaugural luncheon for President John F. Kennedy and Vice President Lyndon B. Johnson.

Starting with George Washington’s 1789 swearing-in, inaugural parades were held on the way to the ceremony, serving essentially as a fancy escort for incoming presidents. In 1841, the parade tradition shifted to after the swearing in. Forty years later, James Garfield became the first president to review the parade from a specially built stand outside the White House.

Organizers of Richard Nixon’s second inaugural in 1973 sought to “pigeon-proof” the parade by spending $13,000 to spray Roost No More, a repellant designed to irritate birds’ feet, on Pennsylvania Avenue’s trees and buildings. When the pigeons unexpectedly ate the chemical, birds dropping dead—rather than bird droppings—became the primary overhead hazard to spectators.

While Washington attended a gala in his honor a week after assuming office, 400 invited guests attended the first formal Inauguration Day ball in 1809, for James Madison. When the shindig grew too stifling, guests reportedly shattered the windows of the Capitol Hill hotel to let in fresh air. Future president John Quincy Adams panned the festivities: “The crowd there was excessive, the room suffocating and the entertainment bad.”

Climate concerns of an opposite kind put the 1873 inaugural ball for Ulysses S. Grant’s second term on ice. With wind chills well below zero, guests inside a poorly heated temporary structure shivered under their heavy overcoats. Food and champagne froze solid, along with 100 caged canaries hanging from the ceiling, killing this inaugural ball’s designated party animals.