‘Stonewall’ Jackson represents a great ‘what if’ of the American Civil War

An oil portrait of Thomas “Stonewall” Jackson painted in 1862 sold for $23,302 at a December 2007 Heritage auction.

“Look! There is Jackson standing like a stone wall! Let us determine to die here today and we will conquer.” – General Barnard Bee, 1861, First Manassas/First Battle of Bull Run

By Jim O’Neal

Thomas Jonathan “Stonewall” Jackson (1824-1863) was born at Clarksburg, deep in the mountains of what is now West Virginia. He was only 2 years old when his sister and father died of typhoid fever. The Jacksons had been longtime residents, but his father was a lawyer struggling with growing debt. His mother and three children were forced to become wards of the small town. Even after she remarried, they were unable to support the family and the children were sent individually to various relatives. Jackson’s mother died barely a year after the family break-up.

TJT grew up working for an uncle who ran a lumber and grist mill. The absence of parents or a real family resulted in a hardy young man, withdrawn and shyly introspective. He relied on friendly tutors and a love of reading to attain a very limited education. His first bit of luck occurred when a nominee for the U.S. Military Academy changed his mind and Jackson took his place.

Few, if any cadets ever entered West Point with less scholastic preparation. Moreover, the mountain lad was naturally introverted and almost entirely devoid of basic social skills. Somehow, he used energy, determination and a passion for learning in lieu of formal preparation. Studying day and night helped him rise from near the bottom to graduate 17th out of 59 cadets in the class of 1846.

The War with Mexico had just started and Jackson entered the Army as a lieutenant in the 3rd U.S. Artillery and he was dispatched at once to Mexico. After a slow start, he participated in the Siege of Veracruz in March 1847. Then he was cited for gallantry at both Contreras and Chapultepec. By the end of the war, he was a brevet major and had outperformed all of his West Point classmates.

After the war, he returned with the Army, first to New York and then to Fort Meade, deep in the middle of Florida. It was here that he received an offer from the small Virginia Military Institute (VMI) to be Professor of Artillery Tactics and Optics in Lexington, Va. He was plagued with health issues to the point that many historians believe he was a hypochondriac. That aside, he became intensely interested in religion, which would play a major role in his personal and military activities. Eventually, he joined the Presbyterian church and was a highly devout Calvinist.

The signs of the coming civil war were growing rapidly and as early as Oct. 16, 1859, John Brown made an effort at Harpers Ferry to initiate a slave revolt in Southern states by taking over the arsenal and arming slaves. Brown had 22 followers, but 88 Marines led by Colonel Robert E. Lee quelled the revolt. Stonewall Jackson was one of the troops guarding Brown until he was executed. By coincidence, John Wilkes Booth was one of the spectators at the hanging. Many refer to this incident as the “dress rehearsal for the Civil War.”

Stonewall Jackson remained a strong Unionist until he thought his beloved Virginia was threatened by federal coercion. When secession finally occurred, he offered his services to the Confederation. He left Lexington on April 21, 1861, never to see his adopted town again. Robert E. Lee, of course, was offered command of all Union forces, but like Jackson, his loyalty to Virginia was stronger than to the United States.

It was from here that Stonewall Jackson earned his reputation as one of the most brilliant commanders in American history. Even though his field services in the Civil War lasted but two years, his movements continue to be studied at every major military academy in the world. He was an artillerist who excelled in infantry tactics. He was a devout Christian but merciless in battle … paradoxical because of odd eccentricities, but an inflexible sense of duty, mixed with steel-cold tactics. One explanation offered was his belief that he was fighting on the order of Joshua, Gideon and other commanders of Old Testament fame. His credo was best summed up in a single statement: “My religious belief teaches me to feel as safe in battle as in bed. God has fixed the time for my death. I do not concern myself about that.”

Appointed a colonel of infantry on April 27, 1861, Jackson’s first orders were to return to the Shenandoah Valley and take command of an inexperienced militia and volunteers. This was a traumatic shock as the new commander assumed his duties with a stern regime. Units accustomed to parades underwent hours of daily drills, incompetents were quickly expunged and the town’s entire liquor supply was eliminated. The area was quickly ringed by armed pickets and artillery emplacements. Jackson taught the ignorant and punished the insubordinate.

It was such a rapid and dramatic transformation that Jackson was promoted to brigadier general on June 17 and given a brigade of five infantry regiments. The most famous nickname in American history came to Jackson just four weeks later at Manassas. His career proceeded at a dizzying pace and on Oct. 10, 1862, Jackson was appointed lieutenant general of half of General Lee’s forces. In spring 1863, Jackson performed his most spectacular flanking in the tangle of the Virginia Wilderness. He routed General Joe Hooker’s Army and for the first time rode to the front lines to personally assess the situation. He was returning when Confederates mistook the general and opened fire.

On May 2, three bullets struck Jackson, shattering his left arm below the shoulder. He died eight days later when pneumonia overtook him on May 10, 1863. His last words were “Let us cross over the river and rest under the shade of the trees.” The South had lost the most famous martyr of the Confederacy. General Robert E. Lee had lost the equivalent of his right arm. He never recovered.

For many years after the war’s end, Lee would speak of General Jackson. The words would vary, but the sentiment remained the same. “If I had Stonewall Jackson with me, I should have won the Battle of Gettysburg.” He even imagined Stonewall beside him in later battles, facing Grant in the Wilderness. “If Jackson had been alive and there, he would have crushed the enemy!”

For General Lee and for Americans ever since, the untimely death of Stonewall Jackson is the great “what if” of Civil War history. Jackson shaped the war in the Eastern theater with his aggressive tactics. His absence not only changed Confederate operations and Southern morale, but the tactical methods of General Lee.

“I know not how to replace him,” Robert E. Lee said at Stonewall Jackson’s funeral.

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].

To borrow a phrase, Chief Justice Roberts looked like he came directly from central casting

A photograph of Chief Justice John G. Roberts Jr. and Associate Justice John Paul Stevens, taken following Roberts’ oath-taking and signed by both on the mat, went to auction in May 2017.

By Jim O’Neal

At noon on Sept. 12, 2005, I was glued to the TV to watch the start of the Senate Judiciary Committee. Chairman Arlen Specter gaveled the committee to order to consider the nomination of Judge John Glover Roberts Jr. as Chief Justice of the Supreme Court. Day one included Judge Roberts’ introduction of his family and friends in attendance, followed by four short speeches by prominent senators advocating for his confirmation. This abbreviated session was to accommodate the short attention spans of Roberts’ two young children. The meeting was adjourned for the day with the formal occasion to resume the following morning.

As an amateur connoisseur of great speeches and the courtroom drama that testimony in front of Congress can engender, I was impatient for the next day. I was not disappointed. Judge Roberts, dressed in a black suit and starched white shirt and tie (but without his customary gold cuff links) looked like he was out of central casting. He assumed his seat after the customary swearing-in ritual. However, what was strikingly different was the starkness. The table where he sat and made his opening statement was devoid of items. Not a single note, pen or even a glass of water. One man sitting all alone looking up at 18 senators (nearly half of them partisan enemies hoping to derail his career), while he looked totally relaxed, confident and alert.

Devoid of any speeches or even cue cards, he politely thanked several and transitioned to his Indiana roots, referring to “the limitless fields punctuated only by a silo or barn.” It evoked an image of Middle America that effortlessly transported the entire committee back to their own memories of growing up. It was a flawless finesse that allowed him to exclude any reference to his life in the exclusive Long Beach community on Lake Michigan or his selective education at La Lumiere, a college prep school where a jacket and tie were required for classes and the dining hall. He graduated No. 1 in his class in 1973 and was the school’s first Harvard-bound student. Naturally, he graduated from Harvard summa cum laude in 1976, and graduated magna cum laude from Harvard Law.

He would let others plump his resume, while he edited himself down to a plainspoken, modest Midwesterner. Janet Malcolm commented in The New Yorker: “Watching Roberts on television was like watching one of the radiantly wholesome heroes that Jimmy Stewart and Henry Fonda played. It was out of the question that such a man be denied a place on the Supreme Court.”

Roberts was aware of the value of including a vivid metaphor, quotable line or a phrase to memorialize the event and he picked a good one. “Judges are like umpires. Umpires don’t make the rules, they apply them. The role of a judge and an umpire is critical. They make sure everyone plays by the rules, but it is a limited role. Nobody ever went to a ballgame to see the umpire.” That is now a common definition often used when needed.

It was a twist of fate that John Roberts was being interviewed for Chief Justice. On July 19, 2005, President Bush had nominated him to fill the vacancy created by the retirement of Justice Sandra Day O’Connor. While this nomination was still pending, on Sept. 3 Chief Justice William H. Rehnquist died from thyroid cancer. During the process of selecting Justice O’Conner’s replacement, Bush had solicited the opinion of several young lawyers in the White House. One was Brett Kavanaugh, who had been nominated to the D.C. Circuit Court of Appeals. Kavanaugh told him that both Roberts and Samuel Alito would be solid choices, but the tiebreaker would be who was most capable of convincing their colleagues through persuasion and strategic thinking. On this basis, Roberts was clearly the best.

After the Hurricane Katrina disaster that August, President Bush had no appetite for controversy. Reports on Judge Roberts’ interviews in the Senate were going so well that he changed Roberts’ nomination to Chief Justice. That would delay the O’Conner replacement for several months and the court would have to operate with only eight members. This was fortunate, since a highly unqualified Harriet Miers, who worked for Bush in the White House, was the lead candidate to replace O’Conner … and with more time to consider her credentials, saner heads prevailed.

The next three days of hearings offered an exquisite buffet for addicts like me. It started with a round of 10 minutes per senator and it was mildly amusing when Senator Joe Biden’s pontificating took so long that he ran out of time before asking a single question. Judge Roberts displayed remarkable intellect – and a wry sense of humor – when discussing important Supreme Court cases. When Senator Lindsey Graham of South Carolina asked Roberts what he would like future historians to say about him, Roberts joked: “I’d like for them to start by saying, ‘He was confirmed!’”

Questions fell into a regular rhythm and Roberts answered them almost effortlessly. In addition to his education and experience, the “Murder Boards” – the phrase used for pre-hearing rehearsals – must have really fine-tuned every aspect of what was anticipated. Even today, prospective nominees study the tapes of his hearing as part of their preparation. I got the feeling he was being polite to a bunch of partisan senators (all lawyers) without acting too condescending.

Senator Chuck Schumer of New York became so frustrated at one point he said, “Why don’t we just concede John Roberts is the smartest guy in the room.” In another memorable exchange, Schumer complained, “You agree we should be finding out your philosophy, and method of legal reasoning, modesty, stability, but when we try to find out what modesty and stability mean, what your philosophy means, we don’t get any answers. It’s as if I asked you what kind of movies you like. Tell me two or three good movies and you say, ‘I like movies with good acting. I like movies with good directing. I like movies with good cinema photography.’ And I ask, no, give me an example of a good movie, you don’t name one. I say, give me an example of a bad movie, you won’t name one, and I ask you if you like Casablanca, and you respond by saying lots of people like Casablanca.”

Senator Specter started to cut Schumer when Roberts interrupted, “I’ll be very succinct. First, Doctor Zhivago, and North by Northwest.” Yes, there was laughter in the room.

Roberts made it out of the Judiciary Committee on a vote of 13-5 as Democrats found creative excuses to vote no. Then it was on to the full Senate, where he was confirmed 78-22. The 50-year-old Roberts became the youngest Chief Justice since 1801, when the venerable John Marshall (46) was selected.

The Chief Justice is mentioned only once in the Constitution, but not in Article 3, which establishes the judiciary. It is in Article 1, covering Congress, and it says the Chief Justice presides over the Senate during any impeachment of the president (Article 1 Section 3 Clause 6).

The framers vested the Senate with the “sole power to try impeachment” for several reasons. First, they believed senators would be better educated, more virtuous and more high-minded than members of the House. Secondly, it was to avoid the possible conflict of interest of a vice president presiding over the removal of the one official standing between him and the presidency. Of our 45 presidents and 17 Chief Justices, only Andrew Johnson and Bill Clinton have been impeached, with Samuel Chase and William Reinquist presiding over their trials. Both were acquitted.

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].

Buffalo Bill and troupe created Wild West myth that remains with us today

A rare matched pair of A. Hoen & Co. posters promoting Buffalo Bill’s Wild West sold for $31,070 at a June 2012 Heritage auction.

By Jim O’Neal

In 1601, William Shakespeare wrote in Twelfth Night: “Some are born great, some achieve greatness and some have greatness thrust upon them.”

In Shakespearean times, greatness was often equated with fame. But, as the Bard pointed out, although people may become famous in a myriad of ways, fame (per se) was predicated most often on the idea of “greatness.” People were famous because they were important in some way.

For most of human history, few individuals in each generation actually achieved great fame. And that fame was usually derived from actions of consequence in politics, war, religion, science or other ways that deeply affected society. However, being famous is not the same as being a celebrity. Many celebrities will never do anything important at all, unless entertainment is loosely interpreted.

Modern celebrity is a relatively recent phenomenon. Before the 20th century, few people were famous without accomplishment. That changed with the advent of national magazines, followed by radio, movies, television and, most recently, the internet and social media. Yet even as the 20th century debuted, many Americans began to look back with a lingering nostalgia for the past. People in the new industrial cities of the Midwest and East began yearning for the fading vision of the Old West. It enveloped even those who had never ventured West of the Mississippi, perhaps as a wistful item to see before it disappeared.

Right on cue was a ready-made version of that romanticized history by one of the 20th century’s first celebrities. William Frederick “Buffalo Bill” Cody (1846-1917) was intimately familiar with the often brutal reality of the 19th century. As a boy in Kansas, he witnessed firsthand his father being attacked and stabbed for his vocal anti-slavery views. At 15, he was one of the short-lived Pony Express riders, followed by stints as a fur trapper, bullwhacker, “Fifty-Niner” (in Colorado), Army scout and, of course, buffalo hunter.

After the Civil War, Cody worked for the Army, sometimes helping to track, fight and even kill American Indians. He worked as a buffalo hunter (technically American bison) on the Great Plains, slaughtering the great beasts to help feed the troops. But he also had a keen eye on fame and a flair for self-promotion. In his late 20s, this led to working as an actor in travelling Wild West road shows.

This new form of entertainment was a live, open-air variety show where crowds were awed by noisy displays of skill involving trick riding, sharp shooting and rope tricks. But the primary crowd-pleasers were large-scale dramatizations of daring Western stories. These were typically battles between “Americans” and Indians in full war paint with galloping horses.

While promoters made wild claims about the authenticity of the battle stories, in general they were greatly fictionalized or, at a minimum, highly exaggerated. Audiences were enthralled by these largely false, heroic re-enactments of the cruel, brutal conquest of American Indians as the United States “tamed” the West. They inspired Cody, then a youngish 33, to publish his memoir, The Life and Adventures of Buffalo Bill.

It provided a handy springboard for his own road show in 1883: Buffalo Bill’s Wild West. Earlier, his life and adventures had been sensationalized in a series of dime novels by E.Z.C. Judson (alias Ned Buntline) and his fame gained an international flair as just “Buffalo Bill.” Cody then spent the better part of three decades touring the United States with a large company of entertainers. Among them were American Indian people from the West, which resulted in a somewhat complicated relationship. However, the shows provided them with decent wages and a welcome escape from the grinding poverty of the reservations they eschewed.

Meanwhile, white performers like “Wild Bill” Hickok and Annie Oakley were developing their own celebrity status. Annie regarded Buffalo Bill as “the kindest, simplest, most loyal man I ever knew.” He called her the “Champion Shot of the World.” Unlike much of the highly fictionalized show, Oakley was the real deal. Born Phoebe Ann Mosey in 1860, she learned to shoot as a child to help feed the family. Years later, while competing in a shooting contest, she met her future husband, traveling-show sharpshooter Frank E. Butler (whom she defeated when he missed the last of 25 balls and Annie hit all 25). When the couple joined Buffalo Bill’s extravaganza, Annie took the spotlight and Frank became her manager. They were married for 50 years and he died three weeks before her death.

In one example of her dazzling act, Butler would swing a glass ball at the end of a string, and Annie, with her back turned, sited the moving target and shot it with her gun slung over her shoulder. She was universally admired and Chief Sitting Bull (another star of the show) called her “Miss Sure Shot.”

Buffalo Bill sensed there was a big opportunity in Europe and in 1887 his troupe sailed off to London with 180 horses, 18 buffalo, 97 American Indians and a full-size Western stagecoach. The show was an exceptional success in England, where enormous crowds had gathered for Queen Victoria’s Golden Jubilee. The queen even attended a performance and reportedly called Annie “a very clever little girl.”

A second trip to Paris in 1889 to celebrate the 100th anniversary of the French Revolution was even more successful. Millions attended the Paris Exposition with Cody’s “Buffalodrum” the clear favorite. The tour was extended to include the Pope and then on to Berlin, where Kaiser Wilhelm reportedly had Annie shoot a cigar out of his mouth. Annie later quipped a fatal miss could have prevented World War I (the young Kaiser played a major role in launching the war). She was such a success that the King of Senegal wanted to buy her for 100,000 Francs.

By 1900, Buffalo Bill was one of the most famous Americans in the world. He had achieved his celebrity by offering people an idealized version of the complicated and tumultuous 19th century American West. Perhaps more than anyone else, Bill, Annie and their troupe of cowboys and Indians created the myth of the Wild West that remains with us today.

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].