Rare Books & Manuscripts – Page 2 – The Intelligent Collector Magazine

What would Jefferson think of New York’s population, skyscrapers and deadly plague?

A signed 1786 letter in which Thomas Jefferson writes about Shay’s Rebellion, the national debt and foreign policy sold for $32,500 at an October 2018 Heritage auction.

By Jim O’Neal

I made a mistake 30 years ago when I began reading the six-volume biography of Thomas Jefferson by Dumas Malone. The first volume was published in 1948 –– won the Pulitzer in 1975 –– and ended with volume six in 1981 (The Sage of Monticello). Malone wrote in a chronicled-narrative style that was like reader’s catnip. I felt compelled to pick up any volume … start on any page … and not wonder what came before.

Randomly picking up a volume to read was like opening a box of Cracker Jacks and eagerly looking for a prize, in this case, one of Jefferson’s many exploits: first secretary of state … second vice president … third president … second governor of Virginia … principal author of the Declaration of Independence … envoy to France … part–time inventor … doubling the size of the United States for a mere $15 million (Louisiana Purchase) … commissioning the Lewis and Clark Expedition … architect-builder of Monticello … or ending up on sculptor Gutzon Borglum’s Mount Rushmore with George Washington, Abraham Lincoln and Teddy Roosevelt.

Now, while becoming addicted to Governor Cuomo’s daily Covid-19 status reports, it has stirred old memories of Thomas Jefferson and I wonder what he would think about New York City with its millions of people, tall skyscrapers, massive hospital networks and the plague that has immobilized this amazing city. Early American cities were walking cities since only the affluent owned horses. As a result, beyond a few square miles, they were generally impractical. With the advent of crude mass transit like the omnibus (a wagon or small bus pulled by horses), cities expanded into larger metro areas.

By 1855, there were 700 omnibus lines in a few cities transporting 120,000 passengers a day on bumpy, hand-carved cobblestone roads. This soon improved with the introduction of steel rails. By the 1880s, there were 525 horse–drawn rail lines in 325 cities. However, in addition to street pollution, horses broke down in alarming numbers, bringing an end to the production of buggy whips.

The first electric trolley debuted in 1888 in Richmond, Va. Horses were quickly replaced by electricity and as early 1902, 97 percent of urban transit had been electrified. More than 2 billion passengers were riding on 22,000 miles of electric rails annually. Steam–powered railroads, first introduced in the 1830s, continued to play an important role in transportation, but sheer size limited their use in cities with small, uneven roads. As the 19th century ended, electric trolleys dominated urban transportation, as steam–powered locomotives focused on regional and transcontinental uses.

Yet America’s largest cities, especially New York, had been trying to incorporate railroads as early as 1850. First was a rail line that followed the contours of the Hudson River and catered primarily to commuters. Then NYC introduced an elevated platform with full-size trains, electrified with a third rail providing the power and traversing above the city streets. Chicago and Boston tried similar versions until the 20th century introduced a new-modern concept for train transit.

New York City pioneered the first subway: full-size trains in massive tunnels that had been dug under city streets. The maiden trip was on Oct. 2, 1904, and eventually expanded to include 468 stations and 656 miles of commercial track. Thus, the world–famous NYC subway system that we know today … and a detour to pose a question asked by historian Carl Becker: “What is still living in the political philosophy of Thomas Jefferson?” and your host’s amateurish reply.

The first blow was the Civil War, which destroyed the political primacy of the South … slavery and the doctrine that the states were sovereign agents bound together in a federal compact. Then the 1890 census revealed that the frontier phase of America’s history, made possible by Jefferson, was gone. The 1920 census reported the majority of American citizens lived in urban rather than rural areas. These demographic changes transformed Jefferson’s agrarian vision into a nostalgic memory.

Then the 1930s New Deal capped the urbanization, industrialization and increased density of the population. Roosevelt’s appropriation of Jefferson as a New Deal Democrat has been called “one of the most inspired acts of political thievery in American history.” In fact, the New Deal signaled the death knell for Jefferson’s cherished concept of a minimalist, centralized federal government. Undoubtedly, the massive military buildup to fight the Cold War was precisely the kind of “standing army” that Jefferson truly abhorred.

Lastly, of course, was the modern Supreme Court decision in 1954 in Brown v. Board of Education (Topeka, Kan.). This was followed by all the other decisions regarding an equal, multiracial society. The intrusion into regular order made Jefferson’s belief in legal and physical separation of blacks and whites a literal anachronism. However, I suspect Mr. Jefferson, ever the pragmatic statesman, would observe that we should liberate ourselves from the dead hands of ancestors’ or predecessors’ ancient views and seek our own.

Personally, I prefer Ronald Reagan’s uplifting words that we “pluck a flower from Thomas Jefferson’s life and wear it on our soul forever.”

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].

‘Some stories are hard to see; other stories hit you in the face’

A collection of 10 typed letters related to Watergate and signed by Richard Nixon, Gerald Ford, John Mitchell and Richard Kleindienst sold for $3,500 at a 2013 Heritage auction.

By Jim O’Neal

On Oct. 12, 2019, The New York Times ran an editorial titled “All the President’s Henchmen,” along with a cartoonish drawing depicting President Trump, Rudy Giuliani, Rick Perry and Pete Sessions. The article concluded, “The impeachment drama had taken on the feel of a telenovela crossed with a mob movie wrapped up in a true crime procedural and decorated with psychedelic TikTok clips. In a word: bananas. But with a cast of bumblers, grifters and self-promoters like those Mr. Trump seems to favor, one should expect nothing less.”

There was little doubt about the allusion to the 1976 Award-winning movie All the President’s Men. The film was almost exclusively based on the Pulitzer Prize-winning book of the same name. It had been authored by two obscure reporters for The Washington Post: Carl Bernstein and Bob Woodward (now almost household names and prolific political writers).

The movie is one of my favorites, with Robert Redford and Dustin Hoffman playing the two reporters. Jason Robards won an Oscar for his portrayal of Ben Bradlee, editor of the Post, and Alan J. Pakula was an Oscar nominee for Best Director. Although the movie primarily covers only the first seven months of what would become the Watergate scandal, the clever use of typesetting bookends the start and finish of the entire event, beginning with the Watergate break-in to Richard Nixon’s resignation several years later.

The actual Watergate affair started in 1972 when a security guard, 24-year-old Frank Willis, was on routine patrol in the basement of the Watergate complex. He found strips of tape across the latches leading to the underground parking garage. He was not overly alarmed. High-priced hotel rooms, prestigious offices and elegant condominium apartments within the Watergate development had been targets of burglars and thieves for several years. Along with three former Cabinet members, and various Republican leaders, the tenants included the Democratic National Committee (DNC). Its offices had been surreptitiously entered at least twice in just the last six months.

However, Willis simply assumed maintenance men had temporarily immobilized door latches as part of a routine repair. Professional burglars typically used less conspicuous wooden matches to keep the doors from closing and locking. The guard naively removed the tape, allowed the two doors to lock, and resumed his regular post in the lobby.

Then fate intervened and, acting strictly on what he called a “hunch,” he returned to take another look at the basement doors. The same latches had been taped again! Additionally, he discovered that two other doors on another level had been taped, despite being unobstructed only minutes before. “Someone was taping the doors faster than I was taking it off,” Willis said in an interview later. “I called the police!” His call was logged at 1:52 a.m. on Saturday, June 17.

First to reach the Watergate were members of the tactical squad of the Washington metropolitan force, who went directly to the top floor. More tape was found on a stairway door. They started working their way down and found tape on a sixth-floor office. With guns drawn, they entered the darkened offices of the Democratic National Committee. Five unarmed men were found crouched down and they surrendered quietly.

John Barrett, one of the plain-clothed officers who handcuffed the burglars, said: “They were very polite, but they would not talk.” The five men were arrested on burglary charges and led to the District of Columbia jail. They all gave false names to the booking officer, but after a routine fingerprint check, all five were identified:

Bernard Barker, 55, a native of Cuba and president of a Miami real estate firm,
James McCord, 55, president of a private security agency,
Frank Sturgis, 48, ex-Castro Army, now at a Miami Salvage Company,
Eugenio Martínez, 51, notary-real estate employee of Barker in Miami, and
Virgilio Gonzalez, 45, a locksmith from Miami.

Four of the men had spent the night at the Watergate Hotel, which connected with the office building via an underground garage.

At the time of the arrests, police had seized all the equipment the men had. It was quite a haul: two 35mm cameras with close-up lens, 40 rolls of film, one roll of film for a Minox “spy” camera, and a high-intensity lamp. All were useful in copying documents. Additionally, there were three microphones and transmitters. Ceiling panels had been removed to allow access to an adjacent office belonging to DNC Chairman Larry O’Brien. In addition to lock-picks and burglary tools, there were two walkie-talkies and a few thousand dollars in $100 bills with consecutive serial numbers.

The White House was quick to deny that any of the men were working for them and Nixon Press Secretary Ron Ziegler famously shrugged it off as “a third-rate burglary attempt” and unworthy of comments. However, at their arraignment, Washington Post reporter Bob Woodward overheard one of the burglars (James McCord) whisper “CIA” when asked what kind of “retired government employee” he had been.

The finest journalists in the world could be forgiven for not realizing that those three little letters (CIA) would be the opening act of a scandalous political drama – unprecedented in American history. Bradlee would later write: “Some stories are hard to see because the clues are hidden or disguised. Other stories hit you in the face. Like Watergate, for instance. Five guys in business suits, speaking only Spanish, wearing dark glasses and surgical gloves, with crisp new hundred-dollar bills in their pockets, and carrying tear-gas fountain pens, flashlights, cameras and walkie-talkies, just after midnight in the headquarters of the Democratic National Committee. … You would have to be Richard Nixon himself to say this was not a story.”

Actually, this is what Richard Nixon did finally say on Aug. 9, 1974, to Secretary of State Henry Kissinger:

Dear Mr. Secretary,
I hereby resign the office of President of the United States.
Sincerely,
Richard Nixon

Twain’s ‘Gilded Age’ in retrospect resembles a warning – comeuppance wrapped in satire

A signed presentation copy of *The Gilded Age* by Mark Twain and Charles Dudley Warner sold for $5,750 at an October 2017 Heritage auction.

By Jim O’Neal

The Gilded Age was a fascinating time for millions of people. It is typically used as a metaphor for a period of time in Western history characterized by peace, economic prosperity and optimism. It is assumed to have started circa 1870 and extended until the horrors of World War I spread a plague of death, disease and destruction that consumed civilized nations and destroyed four empires.

In France, it was called La Belle Époque (Beautiful Era) dating from the end of the Franco-Prussian War (1871). In the United Kingdom, it overlapped the Victorian era, and in Spain the Restoration. In Australia, this period included several gold rushes that helped the “convict colonies” transform to semi-progressive cities. These are only a few of many examples.

Historian Robert Roswell Palmer (1909-2002) noted “European civilization achieved its greatest power in global politics, and also exerted its maximum influence upon people outside Europe.” R.R. Palmer was a remarkable and distinguished historian, educated in Chicago (taught at Princeton and Yale) who published A History of the Modern World in 1950. I believe it has been continually updated, the last time in 2013. Although I’ve never actually seen a copy, it gets high marks. At a reported 1,000 pages and weighing five pounds, it is not on any of my wish lists. (His wife once commented she felt sympathetic for his students having to lug it around!)

In the United States, the Gilded Age is considered to have started following the Panic of 1873. There were a number of contributing factors. Naturally, the post-Civil War era benefited from the cessation of mindless destruction in the Southern states. Then the extensive rebuilding boosted economic activity at the same time Western expansion to the Pacific Ocean created widespread urbanization.

With workers’ wages in the United States significantly higher than Europe, millions of immigrants were eager to join and this provided the manpower ingredient to natural-resource opportunities. It was a perfect fit – unlimited land, vast forests, rivers, lakes and unknown quantities of gold, silver and coal. We had fur-bearing animals, unlimited fish, millions of bison and weather that was moderate and dependable. In a 30-year period, real wages grew 60 percent as the silhouette of a new world power was taking shape. All without the tyranny that was so prevalent in the world.

Mark Twain (Samuel Langhorne Clemens) actually coined the terminology in a novel co-authored by Charles Dudley Warner in 1873. Their book – The Gilded Age: A Tale of Today – was a typical Twain satire that captured the widespread social problems that were masked by a thin gold gilding. It also obscured the massive corruption and wealth creation of the perpetrators.

This was well before his better-known work The Adventures of Tom Sawyer (1876), which described life on the Mississippi River. The sequel, The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn (1884), was even more popular. First published in England, it exposed the prevalence of racism and the frequent use of the “n” word. The U.S. publication in 1885 only fanned the flames of racial debate.

It was banned in many schools and libraries, remaining controversial during the entire 20th century. As late as 2016, both Huckleberry Finn and To Kill a Mockingbird were banned in a Virginia school. Of course, there was some irony in the fact that our first black president was serving his second term in office.

In fact, Twain’s Gilded Age was meant as a pejorative and didn’t really enter contemporary usage until the 1920s. But it was an apt description throughout the 1870s, until the late 1920s ushered in the crash of Wall Street. With the Union off the gold standard, credit was readily available and the U.S. monetary supply was far larger than before the war.

Northerners, largely insulated from the actual war, sensed the almost inevitability of an industrialize nation and railroads across the country like an iron spiderweb. The early days of the Gilded Age – before the name gained its truer historical meaning – were alive with the optimism and speculation on America’s potential. It was a great run and established America as the greatest country in the history of man.

Twain’s Gilded Age looks in retrospect like a prescient warning – comeuppance wrapped in satire. The Great Depression quickly evaporated the hopes and dreams of millions and then consigned them back to poverty pending another cycle of war followed by prosperity. Andrew Carnegie noted for posterity his opinion on wealth creation: “The proper policy was to put all eggs in one basket and then watch that basket.”

It is hard to draw lessons from these cycles if we consider the current federal government, the U.K. and their Brexit, Africa, most of Latin America, virtually the entire Middle East, and the possible outcome of Hong Kong-China. But we keep trying.

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.

My question for Benjamin Franklin might surprise you

A copy of *The Pennsylvania Gazette* from May 9, 1754, which includes the earliest publication of the most celebrated editorial cartoon in American history – Benjamin Franklin’s woodcut illustration “Join, or Die” – sold for $53,775 at an April 2012 Heritage auction.

By Jim O’Neal

I suppose that most people interested in history have given consideration to the traditional question, “Who would you like to have dinner with?” There are many excellent choices, but my personal No. 1 is Benjamin Franklin and his youngest sister, Jane Franklin Mecom. I’d select “Benny and Jenny” (as they were called) since they were so close and corresponded with each other over a string of 60 years.

Jane did not attend any school and Franklin ended up teaching her how to read. She survived him by four years, until 1794, and subsisted almost exclusively on an allowance from Benjamin that included a house until she died. The house was then converted into a monument to Paul Revere. Of her 12 children, she survived all but one. At the time, 25 percent of all children died before their 10th birthday. It was so routine that, from a religious standpoint, children were taught not to fear death.

I would invite Jane to my dinner simply to get a female’s perspective on life in the 18th century. Much of what we know about those times is slanted to a narrow slice of the population (i.e. white males who were landowners). Benjamin was never really committed to religion. Asked about his views when he was near the end, he ducked it by saying he’d never really studied it and would soon be able to find out with a degree of certainty.

The choice of Benjamin might seemingly appear to be obvious: He was a polymath of the first order (a 20th century term reserved for exceptional people). Some rank him on a level with Leonardo da Vinci, despite the stark difference in versatility in creative arts. Even Walter Issacson, who wrote biographies of both men, describes Franklin as “the most accomplished American of his age and influential in inventing the type of society America would become.”

Consider his resume as inventor, diplomat, printer, politics, scientist, the postal system and wit as a writer. It would have to be a l-o-n-g dinner to touch on even a partial list of accomplishments. Besides, there are dozens of modern books on every single topic available on an e-reader in a matter of seconds. Why waste time listening to his dated thinking, which has been overtaken by later experts?

Benjamin Franklin was born in Boston in 1706, which means it was during the reign of Anne, Queen of England, Scotland and Ireland (1702-07). On May 7, 1707, under the Acts of Union, the kingdoms of England and Scotland united as a single sovereign state known as Great Britain. She continued to reign as Queen of Great Britain and Ireland until her death in 1714. Anne was in ill health for much of her life and despite 17 pregnancies, died without any surviving. Under the Act of Settlement (1701), which excluded all Catholics, she was succeeded by a second cousin, George I of the House of Hanover (a German Royal House).

George III became King of Great Britain and Ireland in 1760 at age 22 following the sudden death of his grandfather George II. In his accession speech to Parliament, he played down his Hanoverian connection. “Born and educated in this country,” he said, “I glory in the name of Britain!” In his long life (81 years), George never traveled beyond England … not to Ireland, to the continent, not even to Scotland and most certainly never to America. As an aside, none of his ministers had been to the New World. They had no idea that America had a population of 2.5 million that was doubling every 25 years, a growth rate never seen in recorded history. George III would reign for 59 years, longer than any of his predecessors and only exceeded by two queens: Victoria and Elizabeth II.

He was aware of the outcome of the French and Indian War (the Seven Years’ War that lasted nine years, 1754-1763) that was resolved by the Treaty of Paris. The spoils were perhaps the greatest ever won by force. Britain took Canada from France and half a billion acres of fertile land from the Mississippi River and the Appalachian Mountains. Florida and the Gulf Coast were ceded by Spain. Britain emerged with the most powerful navy in history and with 8,000 sails, the world’s largest merchant fleet. George Macartney penned the still well-known descriptor of “this vast empire on which the sun never sets.”

Ten years later in June 1773, King George III participated in a great celebration of his reign over the greatest empire since ancient Rome. However, at the end of the next decade, Britain’s bright future had dimmed by a series of provocative taxes levied on his increasingly rebellious American Colonies: 1764’s Sugar Tax, 1765’s Stamp Act and, finally, the Tea Tax that provoked the Boston Tea Party and lead directly to April 18, 1775, and the Battle of Lexington and Concord and the American Revolution.

The war would last eight years and though at least 1 in 10 Americans would die for the cause, the treasure was beyond measure: freedom from oppression and the creation of a new republic. This is my conversation for Benjamin Franklin. What happened on Jan. 29, 1774, that transformed him from a conciliator to a revolutionary … from a loyalist to the British Crown to “the First American?” … and exactly what role did the Hutchinson Letters Affair play?

The God question can wait, but I would like to know if Benjamin has a sense of humor … and what makes him laugh.

Latest volume on political career of Johnson can’t come soon enough

A photo of Lyndon B. Johnson being sworn in as president, inscribed and signed by Johnson, sold for $21,250 at an August 2018 Heritage auction.

By Jim O’Neal

Like other reverential fans of author Robert Caro’s multi-volume biography of Lyndon Baines Johnson, I’m still waiting patiently for him to finish volume five. It will cover the entire span of LBJ’s presidency, with a special focus on the Vietnam War, the Great Society and the Civil Rights era. Caro’s earlier biography of Robert Moses, The Power Broker, won a well-deserved Pulitzer in 1974.

In 2011, Caro estimated that his final volume on LBJ (his original trilogy had expanded to five volumes) would require “another two to three years to write.” In May 2017, he confirmed he had 400 typed pages completed and intended to actually move to Vietnam. In December 2018, it was reported Caro “is still several years from finishing.”

Since Caro (b.1935) is two years older than me, there may exist a certain anxiety that time may expire unexpectedly. However, it will still be worth the wait and I shall consume it like a fine 3-Star Michelin dinner in Paris. Despite all that’s been written about this period of time, Caro is certain to surprise with new facts and his unique, incomparable perspective.

Recall that planning for the 1963 campaign was well under way by autumn for the 1964 presidential election. The razor-thin victory of JFK over Richard Nixon in 1960 (112,000 votes or 0.12 percent) had largely been due to VP Johnson’s personal efforts to deliver Texas to the Democrats.

Others are quick to remind us that allegations of fraud in Texas and Illinois were obvious and that Nixon could have won if he had simply demanded a recount. New York Herald Tribune writer Earl Mazo had launched a series of articles about voter fraud. However, Nixon persuaded him to call off the investigation, telling him, “Earl, no one steals the presidency of the United States!” He went on to explain how disruptive a recount would be. It would damage the United States’ reputation in foreign countries, who looked to us as the paragon of virtue in transferring power.

Forty years later, in Bush v. Gore, we would witness a genuine recount in Florida, with teams of lawyers, “hanging chads” and weeks of public scrutiny until the Supreme Court ordered Florida to stop the recount immediately. Yet today, many people think George W. Bush stole the 2000 presidential election. I’ve always suspected that much of today’s extreme partisan politics is partially due to the bitter rancor that resulted. His other sins aside, Nixon deserves credit for avoiding this, especially given the turmoil that was just around the corner in the tumultuous 1960s.

Back in 1963, Johnson’s popularity – especially in Texas – had declined to the point JFK was worried it would affect the election. Kennedy’s close advisers were convinced a trip West was critical, with special attention to all the major cities in Texas. Jackie would attend since she helped ensure big crowds. Others, like U.N. Ambassador Adlai Stevenson and Bobby Kennedy, strongly disagreed. They worried about his personal safety. LBJ was also opposed to the trip, but for a different reason. Liberal Senator Ralph Yarborough was locked in a bitter intraparty fight with Governor John Connally; the VP was concerned it would make the president look bad if they both vied for his support.

We all know how this tragically ended at Parkland Hospital on Nov. 22 in Dallas. BTW, Caro has always maintained that he’s never seen a scintilla of evidence that anyone other than Lee Harvey Oswald was involved … period. Conspiracy theorists still suspect the mob, Fidel Castro, Russia, the CIA or even the vice president. After 56 years, not even a whiff of doubt.

Lyndon Baines Johnson was sworn in as president in Dallas aboard Air Force One by Judge Sarah T. Hughes (who remains the only woman in U.S. history to have sworn in a president). LBJ was the third president to take the oath of office in the state where he was born. The others were Teddy Roosevelt in Buffalo, N.Y., following the McKinley assassination (1901) and Calvin Coolidge (1923) after Harding died. Coolidge’s first oath was administered by his father in their Vermont home. Ten years later, it was revealed that he’d taken a second oath in Washington, D.C., to avert any questions about his father’s authority as a Justice of the Peace to swear in a federal-level officer.

On her last night in the lonely White House, Jackie stayed up until dawn writing notes to every single member of the domestic staff, and then she slipped out. When the new First Lady walked in, she found a little bouquet and a note from Jackie: “I wish you a happy arrival in your new home, Lady Bird,” adding a last phrase, “Remember-you will be happy here.”

It was clear that the new president was happy! Just days before, he was a powerless vice president who hated Bobby Kennedy and the other Kennedy staff. They had mocked him as “Rufus Corn Pone” or “Uncle Corn Pone and his little pork chop.” Now in the Oval Office, magically, he was transformed to the old LBJ, who was truly “Master of the Senate.” Lady Bird described him with a “bronze image,” revitalized and determined to pass Civil Rights legislation that was clogged in the Senate under Kennedy. Historians are now busy reassessing this period of his presidency, instead of the prism of the Vietnam quagmire.

LBJ would go on to vanquish Barry Goldwater, the conservative running as a Republican in 1964, with 61.1 percent of the popular vote, the largest margin since the almost uncontested race of 1820 when James Monroe won handily in the “Era of Good Feelings.” 1964 was the first time in history that Vermont voted Democratic and the first time Georgia voted for a Republican. After declining to run in 1968, LBJ died five years later of a heart attack. Jackie Kennedy Onassis died on May 19, 1994, and the last vestiges of Camelot wafted away…

Clock ticking for one of America’s most influential retailers

A photograph signed by Richard W. Sears sold for $1,792 at an October 2009 Heritage auction.

By Jim O’Neal

This is a highly condensed story of an American retailing giant that only seems relevant as just another casualty of internet e-tailing. In cultural terms, it is generally portrayed as just another backwater wasteland. But this situation seems oddly different, since it seems like Sears has been a central player in the story of American life.

For a long time, the retailer’s products, publications and people influenced commerce, culture and politics. And then, slowly, it became subsumed into the gravitational pull of business bankruptcies that is relentless when corporate balance sheets weaken and finally fail. I selected it – rather than, say, Montgomery Ward, Atlantic & Pacific, or J.C. Penney – because of its long history and because its demise was like losing a century of exciting surprises to an indifferent bankruptcy judge who yawned and gaveled it into the deep, dark cemetery of obscurity.

Sears has roots to 1886, when a man named Richard W. Sears began selling watches to supplement his income as a railroad station agent in North Redwood, Minn. The next year, he moved the business to Chicago and hired Alvah C. Roebuck, a watchmaker, through a classified ad. Together, they sold watches and jewelry. The name was changed in 1893 to Sears, Roebuck & Company and by 1894, sewing machines and baby carriages were added to its flourishing mail-order business. Its famous catalogs soon followed.

Sears & Roebuck helped bring consumer culture to middle America. Think of the isolation of living in a small town 120 years ago. Before the days of cars, people had to ride several days in a horse and buggy to get to the nearest railroad station. What Sears did was make big-city merchandise available to people in small towns, desperate for news and yearning for new things. It made hard work worthwhile knowing that there was a surprise just over the horizon.

The business was transformed when Richard Sears harnessed two great networks – the railroads, which now blanketed the entire United States, and the mighty U.S. Postal Service. When the Postal Service commenced rural free delivery (RFD) in 1896, every homestead in America came within reach.

And Richard Sears reached them!

He used his genius for promotion and advertising to put his catalogs in the hands of 20 million Americans, at a time when the population was 76 million. Sears catalogs could be a staggering 1,500 pages with more than 100,000 items. When pants supplier and manufacturing wizard Julius Rosenwald became his partner, Sears became a virtual, vertically integrated manufacturer. Whether you needed a cream separator or a catcher’s mitt, or a plow or a dress, Sears had it.

The orders poured in from everywhere, as many as 105,000 a day at one point. The company had so much leverage that it could nearly dictate its own terms to manufacturers. Suppliers could flourish if their products were selected to be promoted. Competition was fierce and the Darwinism effect was in full play. Business boomed as the tech-savvy company built factories and warehouses that became magnets for suppliers and rivals as well. City officials complained that it was harming nearby small-town retailers (sound familiar?).

There was a time when you could find anything you wanted in a Sears catalog, including a house for your vacant lot. Between 1906 and 1940, Sears sold 75,000 build-from-a-kit houses, some still undoubtedly still standing. The Sears catalog was second only to the Holy Bible in terms of importance in many homes.

In 1913, the company launched its Kenmore brand, first appearing on a sewing machine. Then came washing machines, dryers, dishwashers and refrigerators. As recently as 2002, Sears sold four out of every 10 major appliances, an astounding 40 percent share in one of the most competitive categories in retailing.

By 1925, they opened a bricks-and-mortar retail store in Chicago. This grew to 300 by 1941 and more than 700 in the 1950s. When post-war prosperity led to growth in suburbia, Sears was perfectly positioned to cash in on another major development: the shopping mall. A Sears store was an ideal fit for a large, corner anchor store with plenty of parking. Sears revenue topped $1 billion for the first time in 1945 and 20 years later it was the world’s largest retailer and, supposedly, unassailable.

Oops.

By 1991, Walmart had zipped by them … never bothering to pause and celebrate. For generations, Sears was an innovator in every area, including home delivery, product testing and employee profit-sharing, with 350,000 dedicated employees and 4,000 outlets. What went wrong?

The answer is many things, but among the most significant was diverting their considerable retail cash flow in an effort to diversify. Between 1981-85, they went on a spending spree, first acquiring Dean Witter Reynolds, the fifth-largest stock brokerage, and then real estate company Coldwell Banker. They ended up selling the real estate empire and then spun off Dean Witter in a desperate effort to return to their retailing roots. This was after someone decided to build a 110-story, 1,450 foot skyscraper with 3 million square feet (the tallest building in the world at the time) to centralize all their Chicago people and then lease whatever was left over. You have to wonder what all these people were doing. (It wasn’t selling perfume or filling catalog orders!). The Sears Tower is now called Willis Tower (don’t ask).

They stopped the catalogs in 1993. One has to speculate what would have happened had they simply put their entire cornucopia of goodies online. I know timing is everything, but in 1995, on April 3, a scientist named John Wainwright bought a book titled Fluid Concepts and Creative Analogies: Computer Models of the Fundamental Mechanisms of Thought. He purchased it online from an obscure company called Amazon.

I will miss Sears when they gurgle for the last time. I cherished those catalogs when we lived in Independence, Calif. (the place Los Angeles stole water from via a 253-mile aqueduct). Me and my Boy Scout buddies all made wish lists, while occasionally sneaking a peek at the lingerie section.

Are we ready to continue building this great nation?

Two weeks before the Treaty of Paris ended the Spanish-American War, Princeton Professor Woodrow Wilson in this letter to an anti-imperialist says it’s too late to protest and that the focus should be on the “momentous responsibilities” facing the nation.

By Jim O’Neal

Many historians believe that the European exploration of the Western Hemisphere (1500 to 1800) was one of the most transformative eras in the history of civilization. The great Scottish philosopher Adam Smith (1723-1790) took it a step further and labeled it “one of the two greatest and most important events recorded in the history of mankind.” Much of the modern world is a direct result of these 400 years of colonization and transference of culture. In the end, the world seemed inexorably on the way to what we now call “globalization.”

It seems overly dramatic to me (and omits great chunks of transformative periods) but also unambiguously clear that – despite the broad participation of other important nations – the people from England and Spain had the most influence on the vast territories of the New World. However, these two genuinely great empires ultimately evolved into dramatically different societies. Also in the crystal-clear category is that, in the end, they both managed to dissipate the powerful advantages they had created.

A quick snapshot of the world today confirms this devolution. The once mighty Spanish Empire is reduced to a relatively small, unimportant European nation (with a shaky economy, disturbing brain drain and geographic unrest). The other powerful empire of even greater influence in the world is now back to being a small island, wracked with political dissent over further retreat from the European Union (Brexit) and a dangerously unstable government.

In their place is the most powerful, democratic, innovative nation in the history of the world. But even the remarkable United States has developed troubling signs that pose a real threat to a continuation of prosperity. If we don’t find a way to reverse the issues that divide us (basically almost every single issue of importance) and close the inequality gap, our future will inevitably end up like those that went before. An economic boomlet has masked deep, difficult issues that politicians are blithely hoping will somehow be solved by some unknown means. We lack leadership at a time when Waiting for “Superman” is not a prudent strategy.

Some believe we are in a steady decline and that China will surpass America in many important areas this century. However, that is pessimistic conjecture. It’s more useful to re-examine the factors that propelled us to a pinnacle of unprecedented prosperity. I find it more interesting to visit the past rather than speculate on a future with so many possible outcomes (e.g. extinction via asteroid collisions, interstellar travel or a billion robots with superior intellect). It is an unknowable with questionable benefits.

One simplistic way is to skip our story of independence from England and correlate the decline of the Spanish Empire with our annexation of the Spanish-speaking borderlands. It broadly occurred in three phases, starting with the annexation of Florida and the Southeast by 1820. This was followed by California, Texas and the greater Southwest by 1855. Mexico lost 50 percent of its land and up to 80 percent of its mineral wealth. The final phase occurred with the Spanish-American War of 1898, which added Central America and the Caribbean to complete the New American Empire.

Virtually every American president was complicit in varying degrees, bookended by Thomas Jefferson and Teddy Roosevelt, who wrote as if this was preordained by a benevolent entity. With immigrants flowing into the East, the promise of free land and the lure of gold in California, the land between the oceans became steadily populated and blended. The short war with Spain was merely the capstone for a century of annexation, population growth and a perfect balance of territory, people and economic development. The motivation was clear (“sea to sea”) and the manipulation perfectly illustrated by this anecdote:

Publisher William Randolph Hearst (eager to have a war to sell more newspapers) hired Frederic Remington to illustrate the revolution erupting in Cuba. In January 1897, Remington wrote to Hearst, “Everything is quiet. There is no trouble. There will be no war. I wish to come home.” Hearst quickly responded, “Please remain. You furnish the pictures and I WILL FURNISH THE WAR.”

A year later, the Treaty of Paris was signed and Spain relinquished all claims of sovereignty and title to Cuba (long coveted by the U.S. for its sugar and labor), then ceded Puerto Rico and Guam to America. The Philippines was (much) more complicated. The islands had been under Spanish rule for four centuries and waging a war for independence since 1896. The U.S. Navy prevailed and Spain sold the Philippines to the U.S. for $20 million. However, Filipino nationalists had no interest in trading one colonial master for another. They declared war on the United States. Finally, in 1946, the U.S. recognized the Philippines’ independence.

And that, dear friends, is how you build (and lose) an empire.

In a different time, we would simply annex the rest of Mexico, eliminate the border with Canada and create a North American juggernaut to counter China and end squabbling over a wall. We could help Mexico (now perhaps a few U.S. states), eliminate drug cartels, develop the entire Baja California coastline to match Malibu and take advantage of the outstanding Mexican labor force to rebuild infrastructure. All the wasted money on border security (DHS, ICE, asylum, deportations, etc.) would be spent rebuilding old stuff.

But, I will need your vote for 2020! (I feel certain Adam Smith would agree.)

Was Henry Ford right? Is history bunk?

A first edition of John F. Kennedy’s *Profiles in Courage*, inscribed by the author, realized $7,500 at a September 2018 Heritage auction.

By Jim O’Neal

Among the towering figures of the Civil War, none is more enigmatic than General William Tecumseh Sherman.

Widely denounced as ruthlessly destructive for his infamous March to the Sea across Georgia, Sherman was a brilliant commander who helped bring the bloody war to a decisive end. His legacy of “total war” against anyone and everyone (even unarmed civilians) has haunted many Americans and military leaders. It has no parallel in U.S. military history in terms of ferocity or effectiveness.

Sherman (1820-1891) was massively paranoid due to a catastrophic event when he was 9 years old. His father, apparently very successful, suddenly went into bankruptcy and then died … leaving the family penniless and in chaos. His decision to do whatever necessary to restore order and harmony to the Union was rooted in his compulsion for normalcy.

Psychobabble aside, I tend to agree with the following: “The historians of the future will note his shortcomings. Not captiously, but in the kind spirit of impartial justice he will set them down to draw the perfect balance of his character. Let him deduct them from the qualities that mark his distinction, and we shall still see William Tecumseh Sherman looming up a superb and colossal figure in the generation in which he lived,” said General F.C. Winkler, addressing the Army of the Cumberland in the year Sherman died.

Edwin McMasters Stanton (1814-69) became Attorney General for President James Buchanan the day Major Robert Anderson moved his federal troops to Fort Sumter, S.C. This action was viewed as a quasi act-of-war and South Carolina issued an “ordinance of secession.” Later, Stanton would become Abraham Lincoln’s War Secretary and General-in-Chief, replacing General George McClellan due to “inaction.” After Lincoln’s assassination, he became the temporary de facto head of the government as Andrew Johnson was paralyzed in a state of inaction and Congress was not in session.

A man of action, Stanton mobilized the hunt for John Wilkes Booth and all suspected conspirators. All but three were hanged after a swift military tribunal found them guilty. The Stanton role was played by Kevin Kline in the 2010 movie The Conspirator, directed by Robert Redford. Robin Wright played Mary Surratt, the first woman executed by the United States. After the trial, Stanton had a contentious role in President Johnson’s Cabinet, despite their intense mutual dislike.

Johnson (1808-1875) was the only member of the U.S. Senate from a seceding state (Tennessee) to remain loyal to the Union. Hoping to make an example to undermine the Confederacy, Lincoln designated him a brigadier general of volunteers and appointed him military governor of the state with instructions to form a government and return to the Union. The best Johnson could do was declare himself the leading Unionist of the South. Lincoln was expecting a difficult re-election in 1864 and Johnson was selected as vice president in the hope he could attract Southern Democratic votes. They were nominated in June and elected in November. Johnson botched his inauguration by getting drunk; his oath of office was a rambling, incoherent speech. It was so humiliating that he left town for a week. Upon his discreet return, accounts described him as the “invisible man.” Six short weeks later, he would be president of the United States.

The lives of these three men would become forever intertwined in a fascinating series of events.

On April 9, 1865, at the Appomattox Court House, Robert E. Lee (1807-1870) surrendered the Army of Northern Virginia to General Ulysses S. Grant (1822-1885), who accepted the surrender under terms that were considered generous. President Lincoln accepted them since he was still apprehensive about the rest of the Southern troops.

Three Confederate generals – Joe Johnston, Edmund Kirby Smith and Nathan Bedford Forrest – were still on the loose. Lincoln and Grant feared they would form guerilla units. The war could then theoretically last several more years.

However, after Lincoln’s assassination on April 15, Johnston followed Lee’s action and surrendered his troops to General Sherman. Their first meeting was similar to Grant/Lee, except without aides and note-takers (and the eyes of history). Sherman offered to accept Johnston’s surrender on the same terms as those give to Lee. Surprisingly, Johnston demurred and countered with a stunning proposal to make it a “universal surrender” – thereby surrendering all Southern forces to the Rio Grande. In short, it would end the war once and for all.

When Sherman agreed and sent it forward, President Johnson and the entire Cabinet were furious. They suspected Sherman of a conspiracy to take over the entire country or, at a minimum, position himself for the 1868 presidential election. It took Grant 10 days of diplomacy to settle the issue, but exposed a deep rift between President Johnson and Secretary Stanton.

In the end, when Johnson tried to fire Stanton, the Republican Congress impeached the president for “high crimes and misdemeanors.” He was famously acquitted by one vote (twice) by Senator Edmund G. Ross of Kansas. Interestingly, Ross was among the eight men profiled in the 1957 Pulitzer Prize-winning book Profiles in Courage “by” John F. Kennedy.

Critics have claimed Ross was bribed for his vote to acquit … and that Kennedy’s speechwriter and close adviser Ted Sorensen had ghostwritten the JFK book. Even Eleanor Roosevelt weighed in, famously quipping, “I wish that Kennedy had a little less profile and more courage.”

Perhaps Henry Ford was right. History is bunk!

Eliminating national debt will require a bit of financial wizardry

An intimate and honest letter by John Adams to Vice President Elbridge Gerry, dated April 26, 1813, sold for $46,875 at an October 2014 Heritage auction.

By Jim O’Neal

President James Madison set the rather dubious record of having both of his vice presidents die in office. George Clinton went first on April 20, 1812. Clinton also set a record as the first person to lie in state at the Capitol. However, it was for only two hours pending finalization of his burial services.

Then Vice President Elbridge Gerry died on Nov. 23, 1814, during Madison’s second term as president. Gerry’s name is still in common use today … “gerrymandering” is a way to draw voting districts to favor a candidate or political party. Gerry also holds the distinction of being the sole signer of the Declaration of Independence to be buried in the nation’s capital. He is interned at the Congressional Cemetery, which is the only “cemetery of national memory” founded before the Civil War. Although it is privately owned, the federal government has 806 plots that are used for ex-members of importance.

Neither VPs Clinton nor Gerry were replaced, since the Constitution at the time did not have a provision for filling a vice presidential vacancy. If a VP died, the job was held open pending the next election. Congress finally got around to addressing this in 1967 with the ratification of the 25th Amendment. In the aftermath of President John F. Kennedy’s assassination, the 25th provides the specific procedures for replacing the president or vice president in the event of death, removal, resignation or incapacitation (better late than never!).

Clinton had earlier served as Thomas Jefferson’s second vice president (Aaron Burr was the first) and was one of two vice presidents who served under two different presidents. John C. Calhoun was the other to have this iffy honor.

Calhoun was VP for John Quincy Adams and then Adams’ successor, Andrew Jackson. Calhoun then resigned the vice presidency to become a senator from South Carolina. The South Carolina legislature had voted to nullify federal tariff laws and threatened to secede from the Union if the issue was not resolved. Calhoun, ever the politician, thought the tariff issue could best be resolved by Congress and he thought he would be of more help to South Carolina as a senator.

However, Jackson began mobilizing federal troops to send to Charleston and made headlines by stating he would hang Calhoun if South Carolina went ahead with their threat to secede from the Union. In December 1832, Jackson issued a “Proclamation on Nullification,” warning that disunion by force was treason! Recall that this was nearly 30 years before the Civil War started.

President Jackson remained steadfast on federal tariffs. First, he was adamant that the Constitution trumped states’ rights. Asked if he had a message to those who threatened to secede, he replied: “Yes, give them my compliments and say that if a single drop of blood is shed in opposition to the laws of the United States, I will hang the first man upon the first tree I can reach!”

Secondly, he knew the federal tariffs were critical to his firm pledge to pay off the national debt. Remarkably, Jackson made good on his promise to eliminate the national debt. On Jan. 8, 1835, the federal government paid off 100 percent of the national debt … the first time in the history of the country. Fittingly, it was the 20th anniversary of the Battle of New Orleans. The following year, an even more astonishing event occurred. President Jackson approved returning surplus treasury funds to individual states.

With the current national debt at more than $22 trillion, and another $100 trillion in liabilities (Social Security and Medicare), I suspect zero national debt will require a degree of financial wizardry not seen since Bernie Madoff was reluctantly letting people give him their money to invest.