Civil War & Americana – Page 4 – The Intelligent Collector Magazine

100 Years Before Rosa Parks, There was Octavius Catto

Rosa Parks refused to give up her seat on a segregated bus, sparking the Montgomery, Ala., bus boycott.

By Jim O’Neal

Most Americans are familiar with Rosa Parks and recall the heroic story of a weary black woman on her way home after a hard day at work who refused to give up her seat and “move to the back of the bus” to make room for white people. The date was Dec. 1, 1955, and the city was Montgomery, Ala.

Later, she would be arrested during the ensuing Montgomery bus boycott that lasted 381 days. She was fined $10, but ultimately vindicated by the U.S. Supreme Court, which ruled the segregation law was unconstitutional. After her death, she became the first African-American woman to have her likeness depicted in the National Statuary Hall in the U.S. Capitol.

Parks (1913-2005) earned her way into the pantheon of civil rights leaders, but few remember a remarkable man who preceded her by a century when streetcars were pulled by horses.

His name was Octavius Valentine Catto (1839-1871) and history was slow in recognizing his astonishing accomplishments. Even the epitaph on his tombstone shouts in bold letters “THE FORGOTTEN HERO.” One episode in his far-too-short but inspiring life is eerily similar to the events in Montgomery, only dramatically more so. Catto was a fierce enemy of the entire Philadelphia trolley car system, which banned black passengers. On May 18, 1865, The New York Times ran a story about an incident involving Catto that occurred the previous afternoon in Philadelphia, “The City of Brotherly Love” (at least for some).

Paraphrasing the story, it describes how a colored man (Catto) had refused all attempts to get him to leave a strictly segregated trolley car. Frustrated and in fear of being fined if he physically ejected him, the conductor cleverly side railed the car, detached the horses and left the defiant passenger in the now-empty stationary car. Apparently, the stubborn man was still on-board after spending the night. It caused a neighborhood sensation that led to even more people challenging the rules.

The following year, there was an important meeting with the Urban League to protest the forcible ejection of several black women from Philadelphia streetcars. The intrepid Catto presented a number of resolutions that highlighted the inequities in segregation, principles of freedom, civil liberty and a heavily biased judicial system. He also boldly solicited support from fellow citizens in his quest for fairness and justice.

He got specific help from Pennsylvania Congressman Thaddeus Stevens, a leader of the “Radical Republicans” who had a fiery passion for desegregation and abolition of slavery, and who criticized President Lincoln for lack of more forceful action. Stevens is a major character in Steven Spielberg’s 2013 Oscar-nominated film Lincoln, with Tommy Lee Jones gaining an Oscar nomination for his portrayal of Stevens. On Feb. 3, 1870, the 15th Amendment to the Constitution guaranteed suffrage to black men (women of all colors would have to wait another 50 years until 1920 to gain the right to vote in all states). It would also lead to Catto’s death. On Election Day, Oct. 10, 1871, Catto was out encouraging black men to vote for Republicans. He was fatally shot by white Democrats who wanted to suppress the black vote.

Blacks continued to vote heavily for Republicans until the early 20th century and were not even allowed to attend Democratic conventions until 1924. This was primarily due to the fact that Southern states had white governors who mostly discouraged equal rights and supported Jim Crow laws that were unfair to blacks. As comedian Dick Gregory (1932-2017) famously joked, he was at a white lunch counter where he was told, “We don’t serve colored people here,” and Gregory replied, “That’s all right. I don’t eat colored people … just bring me a whole fried chicken!”

Octavius Catto, who broke segregation on trolley cars and was an all-star second basemen long before Jackie Robinson, would have to wait until the 20th century to get the recognition he deserved. I suspect he would be surprised that we are still struggling to “start a national conversation” about race when that’s what he sacrificed his life for.

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].

Here’s Why We Owe a Lot to Second President John Adams

An 1805 oil-on-canvas portrait of John Adams attributed to William Dunlap sold for $35,000 at a May 2017 Heritage auction.

By Jim O’Neal

John Adams had the misfortune of being squeezed into the presidency of the United States (for a single term) between George Washington and Thomas Jefferson, two of the most famous presidents of all time. As a result, Adams (1735-1826) was often overlooked as one of America’s greatest statesmen and perhaps the most learned and penetrating thinker of his time. The importance of his role in the founding of America was noted by Richard Stockton, a delegate to the Continental Congress: “The man to whom the country is most indebted for the great measure of independence. … I call him the Atlas of American Independence.”

On the way to that independence, his participation started as early as 1761 when he assisted James Otis in defending Boston merchants against Britain’s enforcement of the Sugar Tax. When the American Revolution ended, Adams played a key role in the peace treaty that formally ended the war in 1783. In between those two bookends, he wrote many of the most significant essays and treatises, led the radical movement in Boston, and articulated the principles at the Continental Congress.

Following the infamous Stamp Act in 1765, he attacked it with a vengeance and wrote A Dissertation on the Canon and Feudal Law, asserting it deprived the colonists of two basic rights: taxation by consent and a jury trial by peers – both guaranteed to all Englishmen by the Magna Carta. Within a brief 10 years, he was acknowledged as one of America’s best constitutional scholars. When Parliament passed the Coercive Acts in 1774, Adams drafted the principal clause of the Declaration of Rights and Grievances; no man worked harder in the movement for independence and the effort to constitutionalize the powers of self-government.

After the Battles of Lexington and Concord, Adams argued for the colonies to declare independence and in 1776, Congress passed a resolution recommending the colonies draft new constitutions and form new governments. Adams wrote a draft blueprint, Thoughts on Government, and four states used it to shape new constitutions. In summer 1776, Congress considered arguments for a formal independence and John Adams made a four-hour speech that forcefully persuaded the assembly to vote in favor. Thomas Jefferson later recalled that “it moved us from our seats … He was our colossus on the floor.”

Three years later, Adams drafted the Massachusetts Constitution, which was copied by other states and guided the framers of the Federal Constitution of 1787.

He faithfully served two full terms as vice president for George Washington at a time when the office had only two primary duties: preside over the Senate and break any tie votes, and count the ballots for presidential elections. Many routinely considered the office to be part of Congress as opposed to the executive branch. He served one term as president and then lost the 1800 election to his vice president, Thomas Jefferson, as the party system (and Alexander Hamilton) conspired against his re-election. Bitter and disgruntled, he left Washington, D.C., before Jefferson was inaugurated and returned to his home in Massachusetts. His wife Abigail had departed earlier as their son Charles died in November from the effects of chronic alcoholism.

Their eldest son, John Quincy Adams, served as the sixth president (for a single term) after a contentious election, and they both gradually sunk into relative obscurity. This changed dramatically in 2001 when historian David McCullough published a wonderful biography that reintroduced John and Abigail Adams to a generation that vaguely knew he had died on the same day as Thomas Jefferson, July 4, 1826 – the 50th anniversary of the signing of the Declaration of Independence. In typical McCullough fashion, it was a bestseller and led to an epic TV mini-series that snagged four Golden Globes and a record 13 Emmys in 2008.

Television at its very best!

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].

Confederacy Relied on Creative Ways to Finance its War

This 1861 Confederate States T1 $1000 Montgomery Issue note from the “Colonel” E.H.R Green and Eric P. Newman collections sold for $76,375 at an October 2015 Heritage auction.

By Jim O’Neal

Several readers have asked how the Civil War was waged for so long with both sides short of the resources needed to wage war. Here is a short example of how it was possible.

Still desperate for money, Confederate States Treasury Secretary Christopher Memminger proved to be creative. After Fort Sumter, he proposed a series of 12.5 percent duties on coal, lumber, cheese, paper and even iron – despite the military need for wood and iron for railroads. He came up $25 million short because of the blockade, especially in New Orleans. But after the surprise Confederate victory at Bull Run, he went back to the Confederate States Congress and asked them to impose taxes on real estate, slaves and any other personal property, since these assets were valued at almost $6 billion. Farmers effectively killed this effort since it hit them disproportionately. The Treasury then resorted to a “war tax,” but it was a real dud.

So, the only way out was to turn to the old tactic of printing money … short-term notes, longer-term bonds. The notes were, in reality, simply “script” forced on soldiers, retailers, suppliers and anyone else the Confederate government owed. Predictably, Confederate currency was issued in bigger and bigger amounts and redemption dates deferred longer into the future. By the end of 1861, the total had grown from $1 million to $30 million, to $450 million in 1862, and doubling into billion territory in 1863. Gold and silver were really the only currencies of value and they were being hoarded as their value continued to grow. In a mark of futility, merchants, railroads and other businesses started issuing their own paper currency, commonly called “shinplasters” since there were basically worthless. An editor in Mississippi wrote, “Great God, what a people. 250 different sorts of shinplasters and not one dime in silver to be seen.”

As the money devalued, a “greenback” was worth four Confederate dollars, a gold dollar went from three to 20, and in the final years, the exchange rate was 1,000 to one … if it was available. For consumers, inflation meant ruinous prices … coffee four times in 1861, 25 times higher a year later, then 80 times higher in 1863, and by the end of 1864, 125 times more expensive. The Daily Telegraph in Macon, Ga., said: “An oak leaf will be worth just as much as the promise of the Confederate Treasury to pay one dollar.”

By the end of the war, the South was a land of blackened cities, destroyed factories, destitute families and rotting wharves. Twenty-five percent of military-age men were dead, 40 percent of livestock and thousands of miles of railroads ruined, and its system of slave labor, the foundation of its economy, was gone. Sixty-five percent of the South’s wealth simply vanished. The South became a place of death, destruction, debt, ruin and humiliation. Recovery would take 100 years.

A good analogy was Germany in the 1920s when they tried to print money until a loaf of bread cost a wheelbarrow of money. It continued to escalate until the paper was worth more than the finished printed money.

Much has Changed Since the Invention of ‘Instant’ Cameras

An Eastman Company porcelain enamel on steel advertising sign sold for $1,625 at a September 2017 auction.

By Jim O’Neal

In 2014, Internet Trends reported that people uploaded 1.8 billion images every day, or 657 billion per year. One curious statistician calculated that every two minutes, more photos are snapped than the total number in existence 150 years ago. Since there is an obvious correlation between smartphones, populations and photos, if my math is correct, that translates to 1.2 trillion photos taken in 2017. However, all that I am certain of is that in the past three years I’ve personally taken approximately zero – despite having the newest iPhone around almost constantly. There must be a term for people like me, but I’m not familiar with it.

Anyway, the man who probably deserves most of the credit for this photographic phenomenon is George Eastman. In 1888, he invented the Kodak camera and a dry, transparent, flexible photographic film to use with the camera. Eastman was the founder of the once-famous Eastman Kodak Company and personally dreamed up a brilliant advertising slogan to induce average people to buy his new invention: “You push the button – we do the rest.”

Then in 1900, Eastman unveiled the first Brownie cameras and people quickly joined the Brownie Camera Club by the thousands. It was truly the birth of the snapshot and fostered the novel idea that every family (not just the rich) could actually create their own visual history for themselves and the generations that followed. Individual snapshots may have been relatively small from a mere size standpoint, but it was hugely democratic.

Those first Brownies used film that sold for 15 cents a roll, making photography financially feasible for virtually everyone in the country, no matter where they lived. More than a quarter of a million Brownies were sold in the first year and an astonishing 50 million by the early 1940s.

Eastman (1854-1932) was supremely confident about the positive effect of advertising to increase sales; and even more confident that a major effort to educate the public would be an essential element to make it a mass-market product. He wrote all the ads personally and championed the expansion of the brand internationally. One specific example was the word “Kodak” sparkling down from an electric sign on Trafalgar Square in central London.

When asked about the derivation of the word Kodak, Eastman would invariably say that “the letter K was my favorite. It’s a strong, incisive sort of letter. So it was simply a matter of trying out a great number of combinations of words that started and ended with K.” Add the distinctive yellow color that Eastman selected and Kodak became an instantly recognized brand all over the world.

The word that didn’t seem to fit the true impact of Eastman’s invention was “hobby.” His Brownie meant that aspiring photographers no longer had to be bothered by technical camera settings, precise focus or even film development. After exposing the film, the entire camera was then shipped back to Eastman’s factory. The film was developed, camera reloaded and mailed back to the customer along with the mounted prints. As early as 1896, the 100,000th Kodak camera was manufactured and the factory was churning out 400 miles of film and photography paper each month.

Eastman not only had powerful, creative ideas; he understood that he had to execute better than any of the inevitable competition. In time, Kodak had developed an impeccable reputation for affordable cameras and film. It was a formula that was replicated by Gillette (for razors and blades) and Sony (its Walkman provided a private, convenient concert in your ear any time of your choosing).

Yet as successful as Kodak became, there was someone else who would perceive our desire for even greater speed and instant gratification. (No, not Jeff Bezos.)

His name was Edwin Land (1909-1991) and in December 1943, he was on vacation with his family, walking around taking pictures (probably with a Kodak). Back in their room, his daughter posed a simple question: “But Daddy, why can’t I see the pictures now?” Instead of the standard reply … “Because you can’t” … Land started working on solving that problem. He recalled, “Within an hour, the camera, the film and the physical chemistry became so clear. I rushed to my patent attorney and described in great detail a dry camera which would give a picture immediately after exposure.”

Of course, he had conceptualized the Polaroid instant photographic process, which would own that category for decades. Their SX-70 instant color camera was an overnight success as we all responded to the massive TV advertising in which Sir Laurence Olivier sold us on the revolutionary idea of instant photography.

Alas, these two iconic photographic companies ended up in the largest patent suit, with Polaroid suing Kodak for infringing on 12 patents in 1976 and the litigation lasted until 1985, when Kodak was found guilty of infringing seven patents. The story has a sad ending since Kodak is now a shadow of its size and Polaroid ended up in bankruptcy, both victims of 20^th century digital photography, which basically obsoleted everything else in sight.

But, think about all the memories that are stored in every house in America, just waiting for someone to take another look and spend time trying to figure out who all these people were and the stories about when they were taken. There is joy in all those cabinets.

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.

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.

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.

Sea Battle off Coast of France a Crucial Union Victory

The *USS Kearsarge’s* sinking of the *CSS Alabama* gave the North a much-needed boost in morale. This image appeared on an 1864 Union ballot.

By Jim O’Neal

On Sunday, June 19, 1864, in the English Channel off Cherbourg, France, one turbulent hour brought to a climax the worldwide struggle for sea power between the North and South. Within sight of the French cliffs, lined with hundreds of people who came to see the announced spectacle of duel, were the USS Kearsarge and the Confederate warship the CSS Alabama.

French spectators munched from food baskets as the drama unfolded.

These ships, so far from home, appeared to be twins as far as the landsman could see. However, major differences in guns, crews, armor and ammunition could not be seen from shore. The Kearsarge’s 11-inch guns outmatched those of her foe. Her sides were sheathed in metal chains – covered with boards. She had been in dock for repairs the past three months, engines carefully tuned and both powder and shot in excellent condition.

By coincidence, the two captains, Raphael Semmes of the Alabama and John Winslow of the Kearsarge, were longtime friends as messmates, roommates and shipmates in the pre-war Navy – and both were Southerners. As they maneuvered their ships into position, a French warship played Confederate music as the Alabama steamed out of harbor.

The Alabama had long been on her way to this historic destiny.

Built in Liverpool, England, under subterfuge, christened anonymously as Erica and variously known as “The 190” and the “Emperor of China’s Yacht,” she had almost literally swept United States merchant shipping from the seas. In 22 months, she had cruised 75,000 miles – equal to three times around the world – overhauled 295 vessels of many flags, taken 29 Union ships as prizes, and burned another 14 valued at over $5 million!

She had been fitted with guns in the Azores to complement her large sails, modern engines and a special propeller that could be raised for greater speed under sail. It was not by chance that she caught virtually every quarry sighted. However, she had not changed her black powder (now foul) and most of her shells were possibly defective. She had arrived in port at Cherbourg to repair and take on coal. In a rare stroke of bad luck, Napoleon III could not be reached to grant the obligatory asylum needed by any belligerent.

Alerted at Flushing, the Kearsarge pounced and was at Cherbourg in two days, patrolling the harbor and visually inspecting the Alabama through glasses. Captain Semmes, basically trapped, announced he would fight rather than sneak away at night. Cherbourg was crowded with sightseers … all had come to see the Americans in action. Semmes wisely sent ashore all the ship’s valuables and had his men compose their wills before engaging to fight.

The gunners went to their posts and Semmes and his officers, in full-dress uniforms, steamed out of the harbor ready for battle. Soon, the Alabama deck was littered with bodies, many badly mutilated, and there were gaping holes at the waterline. The Alabama, with her graceful black hull, which bore no name and marked only by a motto on the stern, Aide Toi, Et Dieu T’Aidera (God Helps Those who Help Themselves), was no more.