May 2018 – The Intelligent Collector Magazine

Here’s Why Scientists Like Joseph Lister Have Made Life Better for All of Us

A March 25, 1901, letter signed by Joseph Lister went to auction in October 2014.

By Jim O’Neal

In the 1880s, American physicist Albert Michelson embarked on a series of experiments that undermined a long-held belief in a luminiferous ether that was thought to permeate the universe and affect the speed of light ever so slightly. Embraced by Isaac Newton (and almost venerated by all others), the ether theory was considered an absolute certainty in 19th century physics in explaining how light traveled across the universe.

However, Michelson’s experiments (partially funded by Alexander Graham Bell) proved the exact opposite of the theory. In the words of author William Cropper, “It was probably the most famous negative result in the history of physics.” The fact was that the speed of light was the same in all directions and in every season – reversing Newton’s law that had been thought to be a constant for the past 200 years. But, not everyone agreed for a long time.

The more modern scientist Max Planck (1858-1947) helped explain the resistance to accept new facts in a rather novel way: “A scientific truth does not triumph by convincing its opponents and making them see the light, but rather because its opponents eventually die and a new generation grows up that is familiar with it.”

Even if true, it still makes it no less easy to accept the fact that the United States was the only nation “that remained unconvinced of the merits of Joseph Lister’s methods of modern antiseptic medicine.” In fact, Henry Jacob Bigelow (1818-1890), the esteemed Harvard professor of surgery and a fellow of the Academy of Arts and Sciences, derided antisepsis as “medical hocus-pocus.” This is even more remarkable when one considers he was the leading surgeon in New England and his contributions to orthopedic and urologic surgery are legendary.

But this short story begins with a sleight of hand by asking: In the 19th century, what do you think was the most dangerous place in the vast territories of the British Empire? The frozen wastes of the Northwest Passage or the treacherous savannas of Zululand? Or perhaps the dangerous passes of Hindu Kush? The surprising answer is almost undoubtedly the Victorian teaching hospital, where patients entered with a trauma and exited to a cemetery after a deadly case of “hospital gangrene.”

Victorian hospitals were described as factories of death, reeking with an unmistakable stench resembling rotting fish, cheerfully described as “hospital stink.” Infectious wounds were considered normal or beneficial to recovery. Stories abound of surgeons operating on a continuous flow of patients, and bloody smocks were badges of honor or evidence of their dedication to saving lives. The eminent surgeon Sir Frederick Treves (1853-1923) recalled, “There was one sponge to a ward. With this putrid article and a basin of once clear water, all the wounds in the ward were washed twice a day. By this ritual, any chance that a patient had of recovery was eliminated.”

Fortunately, Joseph Lister was born in 1827 and chose the lowly, mechanical profession of surgery over the more prestigious practice of internal medicine. In 1851, he was appointed one of four residents of surgery at London’s University College Hospital. The head of surgery was wrongfully convinced that infections came from miasma, a peculiar type of noxious air that emanated from the rot and decay.

Ever skeptical, Lister scoured out rotten tissue from gangrene wounds using mercury pernitrate on the healthy tissue. Thus began Lister’s lifelong journey to investigate the cause of infection and prevention through modern techniques. He spent the next 25 years in Scotland, becoming the Regius Professor of Surgery at the University of Glasgow. After Louis Pasteur confirmed germs caused infections rather than bad air, Lister discovered that carbolic acid (a derivative of coal tar) could prevent many amputations by cleaning the skin and wounds.

He then went on the road, advocating his gospel of antisepsis, which was eagerly adopted by the scientific Germans and some Scots, but plodding and practical English surgeons took much longer. Thus left were the isolated Americans who, like Dr. Bigelow, were too stubborn and unwilling to admit the obvious.

Planck was right all along. It would take a new generation, but we are the generation that has derived the greatest benefits from the astonishing advances in 20th century medical breakthroughs, which only seem to be accelerating. It is a good time to be alive.

So enjoy it!

Intelligent Collector blogger JIM O’NEAL is an avid collector and history buff. He is president and CEO of Frito-Lay International [retired] and earlier served as chair and CEO of PepsiCo Restaurants International [KFC Pizza Hut and Taco Bell].

How Far Will We Go In Amending American History?

A collection of items related to the dedication of the Washington Monument went to auction in May 2011.

By Jim O’Neal

Four years ago, George Clooney, Matt Damon and Bill Murray starred in a movie titled The Monuments Men, about a group of almost 400 specialists who were commissioned to try and retrieve monuments, manuscripts and artwork that had been looted in World War II.

The Germans were especially infamous for this and literally shipped long strings of railroad cars from all over Europe to German generals in Berlin. While they occupied Paris, they almost stripped the city of its fabled art collections by the world’s greatest artists. Small stashes of hidden art hoards are still being discovered yet today.

In the United States, another generation of anti-slavery groups are doing the exact opposite: lobbying to have statues and monuments removed, destroyed or relocated to obscure museums to gather dust out of the public eyes. Civil War flags and memorabilia on display were among the first to disappear, followed by Southern generals and others associated with the war. Now, streets and schools are being renamed. Slavery has understandably been the reason for the zeal to erase the past, but it sometimes appears the effort is slowly moving up the food chain.

More prominent names like President Woodrow Wilson have been targeted and for several years Princeton University has been protested because of the way it still honors Wilson, asserting he was a Virginia racist. Last year, Yale removed John C. Calhoun’s name from one of its residential colleges because he was one of the more vocal advocates of slavery, opening the path to the Civil War by supporting states’ rights to decide the slavery issue in South Carolina (which is an unquestionable fact). Dallas finally got around to removing some prominent Robert E. Lee statues, although one of the forklifts broke in the process.

Personally, I don’t object to any of this, especially if it helps to reunite America. So many different things seem to end up dividing us even further and this only weakens the United States (“United we stand, divided we fall”).

However, I hope to still be around if (when?) we erase Thomas Jefferson from the Declaration of Independence and are only left with George Washington and his extensive slavery practices (John Adams did not own slaves and Massachusetts was probably the first state to outlaw it).

It would seem to be relatively easy to change Mount Vernon or re-Washington, D.C., as the nation’s capital. But the Washington Monument may be an engineering nightmare. The Continental Congress proposed a monument to the Father of Our Country in 1783, even before the treaty conferring American independence was received. It was to honor his role as commander-in-chief during the Revolutionary War. But when Washington became president, he canceled it since he didn’t believe public money should be used for such honors. (If only that ethos was still around.)

But the idea for a monument resurfaced on the centennial of Washington’s birthday in 1832 (Washington died in 1799). A private group, the Washington National Monument Society – headed by Chief Justice John Marshall – was formed to solicit contributions. However, they were not sophisticated fundraisers since they limited gifts to $1 per person a year. (These were obviously very different times.) This restriction was exacerbated by the economic depression that gripped the country in 1832. This resulted in the cornerstone being delayed until July 4, 1848. An obscure congressman by the name of Abraham Lincoln was in the cheering crowd.

Even by the start of the Civil War 13 years later, the unsightly stump was still only 170 feet high, a far cry from the 600 feet originality projected. Mark Twain joined in the chorus of critics: “It has the aspect of a chimney with the top broken off … It is an eyesore to the people. It ought to be either pulled down or built up and finished,” Finally, President Ulysses S. Grant got Congress to appropriate the money and it was started again and ultimately opened in 1888. At the time, it was 555 feet tall and the tallest building in the world … a record that was eclipsed the following year when the Eiffel Tower was completed.

For me, it’s an impressive structure, with its sleek marble silhouette. I’m an admirer of the simplicity of plain, unadorned obelisks, since there are so few of them (only two in Maryland that I’m aware of). I realize others consider it on a par with a stalk of asparagus, but I’m proud to think of George Washington every time I see it.

Even so, if someday someone thinks it should be dismantled as the last symbol of a different period, they will be disappointed when they learn of all the other cities, highways, lakes, mountains and even a state that remain to go. Perhaps we can find a better use for all of that passion, energy and commitment and start rebuilding a crumbling infrastructure so in need of repairs. One can only hope.

Here’s Why Rosenwald Belongs with Titans Like Rockefeller, Carnegie

A card with signatures and a photograph of President Calvin Coolidge, New York Governor Alfred E. Smith and Julius Rosenwald, circa 1930, went to auction in 2008.

By Jim O’Neal

One fact that is difficult to verify is the total net worth of the Rockefeller family fortune. John Davison Rockefeller Sr. (1839-1937) rose from pious beginnings to become the world’s richest man by creating America’s most powerful monopoly, Standard Oil Company. Scores of muckrakers (especially Ida Tarbell) scorned it as “The Octopus” and posters protested the company by showing it swallowing the world … whole.

He is definitely the most prominent and controversial businessman in our history, especially when the trust he created came from refining 90 percent of the oil produced and marketed in America. His vocal critics charged he was an unscrupulous man who colluded with railroads to fix prices, and conducted illegal industrial espionage and outright bribery of political officials. It took Teddy Roosevelt and his team of stalwart trustbusters to break the trust, but even that inured to his benefit since he had ownership shares in all the new, smaller entities that were created.

Although the business practices were as ruthless and corrupt as charged, he was a quirky, passionate, temperate advocate who was generous and gave enormous sums to organizations like the Rockefeller Foundation, University of Chicago and what is now Rockefeller University. As an old man (he lived to be 98), he was parodied as a harmless billionaire who delighted in giving shiny dimes to needy children.

The actual story has grown much more complex after his only son, John D. Rockefeller Jr. (1874-1960), took over the massive estate and had five sons of his own. The last one, David Rockefeller, died last year and his personal estate was auctioned off this month by an East Coast firm. The total net proceeds were consigned to 12 of his favorite charities, which will create another layer of veneer over the money. What we know is that 1,500 items sold for over $832 million, setting 22 records in the process.

Another son of Junior was Nelson Rockefeller (1908-1979), who was governor of New York and made unsuccessful attempts to snag the GOP presidential nomination in 1960, 1964 and 1968. After serving in other high-profile positions, he was chosen by Gerald Ford to be the 47th vice president of the United States after Richard Nixon’s resignation. Rockefeller holds the distinction of being the last VP to decline to seek re-election when he decided not to join the 1976 Republican ticket with Ford.

Andrew Carnegie (1835-1919) was another famous philanthropist who made a fortune in steel and spent the last 18 years of his life giving $350 million to charities, foundations and universities. “I should consider it a disgrace to die a rich man.” Both the Rockefeller and Carnegie names have been well known throughout the 20th century, primarily because of the numerous foundations and buildings that bear their names.

But let’s focus now on an equally generous man who is largely forgotten because no foundations and few buildings mention him.

Julius Rosenwald (1862-1932) made his fortune the old-fashioned way. He earned it. He started running a clothing store in Springfield, Ill., and then went to New York to learn about the garment business. When he returned to Chicago, he opened another modest clothing store, but also started shrewdly investing in a small catalog store with the undistinguished name of Sears, Roebuck & Company. When co-founder Richard Sears left the company in 1908, Rosenwald assumed a leadership role. With financial help from Henry Goldman (son of Marcus Goldman of Goldman Sachs), he expanded the company with a massive 40-acre mail-order plant on Chicago’s West Side.

Then, in an unprecedented move in 1906, an IPO with Goldman was created, and Sears became a public company. Rosenwald had climbed from a vice president to chairman and CEO, and the new plant in Chicago, with a staggering 3 million square feet, became the largest building in the world. In the process, Sears became America’s largest retailer and people all over the United States discovered how to order using the mail, after hours of thumbing through the sacred Sears catalog.

The demise of Sears is well known and the company is currently being dismantled and sold by brand. It may not be as quickly forgotten as Julius Rosenwald, who went to extremes to be modest. When he died in 1932, it is estimated that he had donated $2 billion to a wide range of interests, including projects that funded African-American education in the South. He funded a program to construct elementary and secondary schools in any willing black community. Over a 20-year period, 5,000 schools were constructed in the South, 90 percent of all buildings in which Mississippi’s black youngsters received an education.

Not bad for a generous man who had no need for recognition, just a desire to help needy people. Now another generation of people will know what he did, in such a humble and modest way, by insisting on closing his foundation after his death and opposing the attachment of his name to so many projects.

Bravo.

Fillmore Among Presidents Who Juggled Balance Between Free and Slave States

This folk art campaign banner for Millard Fillmore’s failed 1856 bid for the presidency sold for $11,950 at a June 2013 Heritage auction.

By Jim O’Neal

On his final day in office, President James Polk wrote in his diary: “Closed my official term of President of the United States at 6am this morning.”

Later, after one last stroll through the silent White House, he penned a short addendum: “I feel exceedingly relieved that I am now free from all public cares. I am sure that I will be a happier man in my retirement than I have been for 4 years ….” He died 103 days later, the shortest retirement in presidential history and the first president survived by his mother. His wife Sarah (always clad only in black) lived for 42 more lonely years.

The Washington, D.C., that greeted his successor, General Zachary Taylor (“Old Rough and Ready”), still looked “unfinished” – even after 50 years of planning and development. The Mall was merely a grassy field where cows and sheep peacefully grazed. The many plans developed in the 1840s were disparate projects. Importantly, the marshy expanse south of the White House was suspected of emitting unhealthy vapors that were especially notable in the hot summers. Cholera was the most feared disease and it was prevalent until November each year when the first frost appeared.

Naturally, the affluent left the Capitol for the entire summer. Since the Polks had insisted on remaining, there was a widespread belief that his death so soon after departing was directly linked to spending the presidential summers in the White House. The theory grew even stronger when Commissioner of Public Buildings Charles Douglas proposed to regrade the sloping fields into handsome terraces under the guise of “ornamental improvement.” Insiders knew the real motive was actually drainage and sanitation to eliminate the foul air that hung ominously around the White House. (It’s not clear if Donald Trump’s campaign promise to “drain the swamp” was another effort or a political metaphor.)

President Taylor was inaugurated with a predictable storm of jubilation since his name was a household word. After a 40-year career in the military (1808-1848), he had the distinction of serving in four difference wars: War of 1812, Black Hawk War (1832), Second Seminole War (1835-1842), and the Mexican-American War (1846-1848). By 1847, Taylormania broke out and his picture was everywhere … on ice carts, tall boards, fish stands, butcher stalls, cigar boxes and so on. After four years under the dour Polk, the public was ready to once again idolize a war hero with impeccable integrity and a promise to staff his Cabinet with the most experienced men in the country.

Alas, a short two years later, on July 9, 1850, President Taylor became the second president to die in office (William Henry Harrison lasted 31 days). On July 4, after too long in the hot sun listening to ponderous orations and too much ice water to cool off, he returned to the White House. It was there that he gorged on copious quantities of cherries, slathered with cream and sugar. After dinner, he developed severe stomach cramps and then the doctors took over and finished him off with calomel opium, quinine and, lastly, raising blisters and drawing blood. He survived this for several days and the official cause of death was cholera morbus, a gastrointestinal illness common in Washington where poor sanitation made it risky to eat raw fruit and fresh dairy products in the summer.

Vice President Millard Fillmore took the oath of office and spent the rest of the summer trying to catch up. Taylor had spent little time with his VP and then the entire Cabinet submitted their resignations over the next few days, which Fillmore cheerfully accepted. He immediately appointed a new Cabinet featuring the great Daniel Webster as Secretary of State. On Sept. 9, 1850, he signed a bill admitting California as the 31st state and as “a free state.” This was the first link in a chain that became the Compromise of 1850.

The Constitutional Congress did not permit the words “slave” or “slavery” since James Madison thought it was wrong to admit in the Constitution the idea that men could be considered property. In order to get enough states to approve it, it also prohibited Congress from passing any laws blocking it for 20 years (1808), by which it was assumed slavery would have long been abandoned for economic reasons. However, cotton production flourished after the invention of the cotton gin and on Jan. 1, 1808, President Thomas Jefferson signed into law that “Congress will have the power to exterminate slavery from our borders.”

This explains why controlling Congress was key to controlling slavery, so all the emphasis turned to maintaining a delicate balance whenever a new state was to be admitted … as either “free” or “slave.” Fillmore thus became the first of three presidents – including Franklin Pierce and James Buchanan – who worked hard to maintain harmony. However, with the election of Abraham Lincoln in 1860, it was clear what would happen … and all the Southern states started moving to the exit signs.

A true Civil War was now the only option to permanently resolving the slavery dilemma and it came with an enormous loss of life, property and a culture that we still struggle with yet today. That dammed cotton gin!

Here’s Why Washington Remains Our Greatest President

A George Washington inaugural button, perhaps the earliest artifact that refers to Washington as the “Father of His Country,” realized $225,000 at a February 2018 Heritage auction.

By Jim O’Neal

Presidential scholars typically list George Washington, Abraham Lincoln and Franklin Delano Roosevelt as our finest presidents. I tend to favor Washington since without him, we would probably have a much different country in so many aspects. If there were any doubts about the feats of the “Father of Our Country,” they were certainly dispelled in 2005 when David McCullough’s 1776 hit bookstores, followed five years later by Ron Chernow’s masterful Washington: A Life, which examined the man in exquisite detail. They didn’t leave much ground uncovered, but there are still a few tidbits that haven’t become overused and still interesting for those interested in fresh anecdotes.

For example, Washington wasn’t aware that on Nov. 30, 1782, a preliminary Treaty of Paris was signed that brought American Revolutionary hostilities to an end. The United States was prevented from dealing directly with Great Britain due to an alliance with France that stipulated we would not negotiate with Britain without them. Had he known, Washington would have been highly suspicious since King George III “will push the war as long as the nation will find men or money.” In a way, Washington would have been right since the United States had demanded full recognition as a sovereign nation, in addition to removal of all troops and fishing rights in Newfoundland. The king rejected this since he was still determined to keep the United States as a British colony, with greater autonomy. Ben Franklin naturally opposed this and countered with adding 100 percent of Canada to the United States. And so it went until May 12, 1784, when the documents bringing the Revolutionary War to an end were finally ratified and exchanged by all parties.

It was during these protracted negotiations that Washington was concerned that the army might lose its fighting edge. He kept drilling the troops while issuing a steady stream of instructions: “Nothing contributes so much to the appearance of a soldier, or so plainly indicates discipline, as an erect carriage, firm step and steady countenance.” After all these years of hardships and war, Washington was still a militant committed to end the haughty pride of the British. To help ensure the fighting spirit of his army, Washington introduced a decoration designated as the Badge of Military Merit on Aug. 7, 1782. He personally awarded three and then authorized his subordinate officers to issue them in cases of unusual gallantry or extraordinary fidelity and essential service. Soldiers received a purple heart-shaped cloth, to be worn over the left breast. After a lapse, it was redesigned and is now the Purple Heart medal, awarded to those wounded or killed. The first was awarded on Feb. 22, 1932, the 200th anniversary of Washington’s birthday.

The victorious conclusion of the Revolutionary War left many questions unanswered concerning American governance, prominently the relationship between the government and the military. At the end, army officers had several legitimate grievances. Congress was in arrears with pay and had not settled officer food and clothing accounts or made any provisions for military pensions. In March 1783, an anonymous letter circulated calling on officers to take a more aggressive stance, draw up a list of demands, and even possibly defy the new government! Washington acted quickly, calling for a meeting of all officers and at the last moment delivered one of the most eloquent and important speeches of his life.

After the speech, he drew a letter from a pocket that outlined Congressional actions to be undertaken. He hesitated and then fumbled in his pockets and remarked, “Gentlemen, you will permit me to put on my spectacles, for I have not only grown gray, but almost blind, in the service of my country.” By all accounts, the officers were brought to tears, and the potentially dangerous conspiracy collapsed immediately.

He gets my vote.

Walt Disney is Proof that Great Ideas Can Come Out of Nowhere

Walt Disney’s passport, dated Aug. 19, 1965, sold for $28,680 at an April 2007 Heritage auction.

By Jim O’Neal

I never met Walt Disney. He died four months after I joined Frito-Lay in 1966 and was among the last of a generation that smoked three packs of unfiltered cigarettes a day. He died of lung cancer.

However, like virtually everyone else in Southern California, we were familiar with the incredible theme park he built in nearby Anaheim. Disneyland opened to the public on July 17, 1955, and Frito-Lay had a direct relationship with Disneyland through a Mexican food restaurant in Frontierland called Casa de Fritos (Home of Fritos). It featured a unique product called a “Ta-cup” … basically, traditional taco ingredients served in a fried tortilla cup that helped with eating on-the-go using one hand.

I met the manager, Joe Nugent, during a meeting with Frito-Lay corporate officers from Dallas (The Flying Circus) who were in Los Angeles to review our zone’s 1967 profit plan and operating budgets. The only surprise was a mild rebuke to Nugent: “Dammit Joe, we told you last year that we don’t want to make a profit. The whole idea is to expose more people to Fritos and build the brand!” Joe just nodded and resorted to his previous tactic of lowering prices in the hope of lowering profits. Alas, it seemed that the more he dropped prices, the more the crowds waited in line to buy even more. What he experienced was the 1960s version of leveraging overhead costs, which lowered margins but increased total profitability. The Sam Walton slogan of “stack ’em high and sell ’em low.”

Another surprise was the mid-1967 completion of Club 33 at Disneyland, a private club with a top-notch restaurant that could only be accessed with a special card and hidden elevator. Frito-Lay was one of 33 local companies with membership, along with Carnation, Bell Telephone and Bank of America. It was the only place in the park where alcoholic beverages were served and in 2010, I read there was a 14-year waiting list for new members. Frito-Lay is now the crown jewel in the PepsiCo empire and analysts are advocating they get out of the beverage business.

From what I’ve read, Walter Elias Disney was a lot like the two men who started the Frito and Lay companies: humble beginnings, entrepreneurial and ambitious. Disney went broke when no one would buy his first animated films, Alice Comedies, so he moved from Kansas City to Hollywood in 1923, took out a home equity loan for $2,500 and rented the back room of a local real estate office where he created the studio that would become the Walt Disney Company‍. What a success story from another “garage” operation it has become.

We then moved to Cupertino in the Bay Area, where the business guys only seemed to talk about technology (using names like Ampex, Atari and H-P) and whispered about the next garage operation that would be a huge success. What we didn’t realize is that we had moved into one of the greatest wealth-creation areas in the history of the world … where two members of the Homebrew Computer Club – both college dropouts – set up shop to sell their techie friends the circuit boards one of them had invented. There are several versions of why they named their company Apple, but the consensus is Steve Jobs had been working at an apple orchard. Our old backyard is not far from the $5 billion Apple campus, but nobody tipped us about what the future might be.

We never heard the term “Silicon Valley” or about two guys in Vermont who had pooled their resources to make ice cream in an abandoned gas station after installing a 4½-gallon freezer. Ben Cohen and Jerry Greenfield were on the opposite end of the technology spectrum when they made a low-tech fortune with Ben & Jerry’s. Of course, not every inventor sticks his hand into a tin and comes up with “Chunky Monkey.” Most will fail. Even those who receive patents and set up small companies will not make these kinds of fortunes. Consider poor Eli Whitney, who invented the cotton gin in 1793 while working as a tutor at a Georgia plantation. His was probably the most influential invention in the 18th century and it got him into the history books, but nothing in the bankbook.

But that’s not the point. The dream that it’s possible, that an idea can come out of nowhere and can – with a lot of hard work – lead to success is more alive than ever. That kid working away or thinking about dropping out of Harvard to start his own company can change the world. Still skeptical? Just ask Bill Gates.

Frenetic Times Created Old West Scandals, Hoaxes

A carte-de-visite depicting people gathered at Promontory Point, Utah, for the official ceremony completing the Transcontinental Railroad, sold for $1,750 at a May 2015 auction.

By Jim O’Neal

Undoubtedly, the greatest achievement in America during the 19th century was the completion of the Transcontinental Railroad in 1869. Virtually everyone knows at least part of the story when the two railroad lines were joined on May 10 and Central Pacific President Leland Stanford drove the 14-ounce “Last Spike” (later the Golden Spike) at Promontory Point in Utah. But fewer are aware the spike was dated May 8 – bad weather caused a two-day delay – or that he whiffed and missed it. Still, the telegraph operator sent the message “Done” to both East and West Coasts in the first mass media event in history.

This was a long-overdue project that had been mired in slavery politics when Congress was unable to reach agreement on how to maintain the status quo on new states ready to join the Union. The exception was the Republic of Texas, which was added as the 28th state on Dec. 29, 1845, the same day the annexation took place, bypassing the traditional territorial phase. It also included two unique provisions: Up to four additional states could be created within the territory and Texas did not have to cede its public lands to the federal government.

However, the growth of railroads in the existing states had been astonishing. Starting from a modest base of 762 miles in 1834, 10 years later it had grown to 4,311 track miles and by Jan. 1, 1864, to a staggering 33,860! In the 1850s, an average of 2,160 miles of new track were added every year, more than the rest of the world combined. Horace Greeley, founder of the New-York Tribune, put it in perspective after an overland trip from NYC to SFO. He wrote that a railroad to the Pacific would add more growth and wealth to the nation than acquiring a dozen Cubas!

Eventually, the discovery of gold in California and the rapid growth in population combined to create a booming economy that helped balance West-to-East traffic and improve two-way profitability. It was during the frenetic times after the railroad was completed that two men walked into the Bank of California in downtown San Francisco in early 1872 carrying a canvas bag they wanted to store in the bank’s vault. They claimed to be prospectors and the cashier demanded to inspect the contents.

He found hundreds of diamonds, emeralds, rubies and sapphires of unimaginable value. Bank President William Ralston, who had made a personal fortune mining Nevada’s Comstock Lode, was able to get them to identify themselves and get their version of this remarkable story. Thus began the saga of Philip Arnold and John Slack, who purported to be miners from Kentucky who had stumbled onto a hill where precious stones were protruding and abundantly scattered around the site. Ralston quickly formed a magnificently named company, the San Francisco and New York Mining and Commercial Company, and persuaded blue-chip investors to chip in $80,000 each for a total capitalization of $2 million.

When word got out, it created a diamond frenzy and even the great jeweler Charles Tiffany jumped in after the two men agreed to show two blindfolded diamond experts the site and they brought back another bag filled with diamonds and verified the area was saturated with precious stones. The two nervous prospectors agreed to sell their share for $300,000 each and a percentage of future profits. Naturally, it was an extremely clever scam that involved them “salting” the mine and concocting the elaborate hoax details.

Then, on Sept. 4, 1872, in the middle of the presidential election, headlines in The New York Sun were screaming THE KING OF FRAUDS… COLOSSAL BRIBERY… HOW SOME MEN GET FORTUNES. But they were talking about the biggest scandal of the 19th century: the Crédit Mobilier scam, which involved railroads, bogus companies, worthless bonds and bribes using stocks involving congressmen and even U.S. Vice President Schuyler Colfax.

It was that kind of year.

Civil War Soldiers Found Themselves in New, Far Deadlier Warfare

A Confederate Civil War enlisted man’s jacket, captured by Union soldiers at Cumberland Gap, sold for $41,825 at a June 2008 Heritage auction.

By Jim O’Neal

Surprisingly, very little written about the Civil War attempts to correlate the level of carnage with changes in armaments and tactics by both sides that almost literally required sacrificing troops in battles over real estate, rather than simply destroying the other side’s capacity to wage war.

When shots first rang out, American officers – Federal and Confederate – had last faced combat in 1846-47 in the Mexican-American War, armed with smoothbore flintlock muskets with a range of barely 200 yards. Now, more modern rifle-muskets, the English-made caliber .557 or Austrian Lorenz caliber .54, were accurate up to 600 yards and capable of killing at 1,000 yards. Soldiers found themselves in a new, far more deadly sort of war.

Artillery was no longer viable within 300 yards without suffering prohibitive losses. Cavalry charges against unbroken infantry attacks were risky, costly encounters. The result was an infantryman with a rifle-musket suddenly dominated and literally forced into the use of field fortifications. Both sides began the war with the same drill manuals and same tactics, only modifying them to fit the infantry weapons. However, it was a slow process and well into 1862 before either side had a majority of rifle-muskets, and even then the slow rate of fire made it necessary to use masses of men to attack or defend.

At Shiloh in April 1862, Confederate General Albert Sidney Johnston’s initial attack was delivered by two corps – one behind the other – and two more held in column as reserves. The two-day casualty count was nearly 24,000, a new historic high (including the death of Johnston). At Gettysburg (July 1863), Pickett’s famous charge, “the high-water mark of the Confederacy,” was three brigades deep and at Atlanta in 1864, Confederate General John Bell Hood formed his brigades with their regiments in columns – one behind the other – giving them a depth of eight to 12 men all lined up to be slaughtered.

Perhaps the most marked tactical feature of the Civil War was the employment of heavy entrenchments, made of whatever material was available. Little-used before 1863, but after the sunken roads at Fredericksburg and stone farm fences at Gettysburg, the average soldier wisely concluded to dig in. Throughout 1864 and 1865, troops in the vicinity of the enemy, even if ordered to attack, would entrench using tin cups, discarded halves of canteens and knives or sticks.

It gradually transformed the war to one of attrition, a fact that was not lost on General Ulysses Grant, who was willing to make big sacrifices since he knew the South was resource-constrained and General William Tecumseh Sherman was on a rampage destroying everything in a broad swath through the South and confident he could stamp out the last vestiges of hope and willingness to continue in the process. It was a lethal combination that was impossible to defend against.

Though the war ended in his defeat, the Confederate infantryman earned a reputation for hard fighting, swift maneuvering, and endurance amid extreme hardships against vastly superior forces. Trusted officers could lead them against any danger, except for any West Pointers or those with pomp and circumstances, which became a moot point, since both victory and defeat killed large numbers and eventually it became impossible to replace them with men of courage and competence. Even Grant in his memoirs commented on how his men were hesitant to fight even when they had a 5-to-1 advantage at times.

A British observer concluded that the Confederate infantry could accomplish wonders – but at a cost the South could not afford.