Historical – Page 3 – The Intelligent Collector Magazine

Here’s why Commodore Perry is known as ‘Father of the Steam Navy’

This silver Matthew Calbraith Perry “Treaty with Japan” medal, commissioned by a group of Boston merchants and struck at the U.S. Mint in Philadelphia in 1856, sold for $26,290 at a May 2011 Heritage auction.

By Jim O’Neal

Generally, James Watt (1736-1819) is credited with the invention of the steam engine. Perhaps this is due to the proximity of this brilliant Scottish engineer and chemist to Great Britain’s Industrial Revolution. His work certainly played a major role in the country’s transition to the world’s leading commercial nation in the early 19th century. However, Watt actually only improved existing steam engines by reducing waste and redesigning the basic technology of heating and cooling liquids.

The result was a dramatic improvement in cost-effectiveness that lowered production costs. England could deliver virtually anywhere cheaper than local production. In a relatively short time, England’s global trading empire stretched from Europe to the North American colonies, through the Caribbean and to the Indian subcontinent. In the process, the nation transformed from an agricultural economy into an industrial juggernaut. The old saying that “the sun never sets on the British Empire” has been used by historians to dramatize the vastness of land under British control. At its apex, it covered 25 percent of Earth’s landmass and daylight was present somewhere at all times.

Then the vaunted British Empire began a long, slow descent into what has become a tired monarchy, with a sclerotic Parliament stuck in the mire of Democratic-Socialism. The embarrassing Brexit erased the vestiges of the Thacker era and raised the specter of disunion in Scotland and a divided Ireland. Recent events have inevitably raised questions about the durability of the royal family. I’m betting Queen Elizabeth II will remain unfazed and continue her remarkable 68-year reign, despite her children’s many escapades.

The actual story of “steam power” stretches back to Hero of Alexandria (circa 10-70 AD), a Greek scientist credited with developing the aeolipile – a rocket-like device that produced a rotary motion from escaping steam. For the next 1,800 years, the world’s inventors, mathematicians and scientists were busy making incremental improvements.

A prominent example is Matthew C. Perry (1794-1858), the first authentic Commodore of the U.S. Navy. He was appointed commandant of the New York Navy Yard in June 1840 by Navy Secretary James Paulding (primarily a writer of note). Perry was an experienced seaman and recognized the critical need for improving the education of Naval personnel. He helped design an apprenticeship system to train new sailors that eventually led to the establishment of the United States Naval Academy in 1845. Near Annapolis, Md., they train 800 to 1,000 plebes (Roman slang) annually to be midshipmen who represent the best traditions of America’s elite military.

Commodore Perry also earned the moniker “Father of the Steam Navy” after organizing the nascent corps of Naval engineers and founding the U.S. Naval gunnery on the New Jersey seashore. He took command of the U.S.S. Fulton (the nation’s second steam frigate). Perry supervised the construction and his extensive naval experience provided an ideal platform to advocate for extensive modernization.

In 1852, President Millard Fillmore assigned Commodore Perry to carry out a strategic mission: Force the Japanese Empire to open all their ports that had been closed to foreigners for 250 years … using gunboat diplomacy if necessary. On July 8, 1853, the Perry Expedition sailed into Edo Bay (Tokyo) and opened trade negotiations. However, it took a second trip in February 1854, this time with 10 vessels and 1,600 men. Perry proceeded to land 500 men in 27 boat ships while bands played the Star-Spangled Banner.

Silently following along was the “Law of Unintended Consequences.” The Japanese quickly realized that Perry’s warships, armaments and technology so out-powered them that it would be prudent to throw open their markets to foreign technology. The feudal lord Shimazu Nariakira summarized it nicely by observing: “If we take the initiative, we can dominate; if we do not, we will be dominated!” They did take the initiative and over the next century defeated Taiwan, Russia and China … taking control of the entire Korean Peninsula from 1910 forward.

Ironically, 100 years later, on Sept. 2, 1945, our war with Japan formally ended. But, days earlier, the battleship USS Missouri glided into Tokyo Bay and anchored within cannon-shot range of Commodore Perry’s moorage of 1853. The Missouri’s deck was arranged with surrender documents, and displayed above was the 31-star flag that Perry had flown on the USS Mississippi, built under the personal supervision of the commodore. It has been on display in the Naval Museum. The Missouri flagstaff luffed the 48-star flag that had flown on the Capitol dome in Washington, D.C., on Dec. 7, 1941. America and Japan were finally at peace.

Now we are ensconced in the Middle East with no visible exit and the Navy is busy contending with China over Asian Oceans of questionable value. But we did sleep in a Holiday Inn after mooring a nuclear submarine.

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].

Jackson arrived in D.C. and proceeded to upset the apple cart

A rare Andrew Jackson “pewter rim,” most likely dating to the War of 1812 and celebrating its heroes, sold for $20,000 at a June 2015 Heritage auction.

By Jim O’Neal

Andrew Jackson, the seventh president of the United States, was ready to go home. After serving eight years, he rejoiced that his vice president would succeed him. Occasionally, Jackson had considered resigning to ensure a smooth transition and, more importantly, a continuation of Jacksonianism. VP Martin Van Buren had consistently opposed this and finally “Old Hickory” dropped the idea. The president’s health was failing and many descriptions painted a picture of an old man (he was 70 years old and frail).

Eight years earlier, the president-elect had slipped into Washington, D.C. A welcoming salute had been cancelled since counting the electoral votes was still before Congress. Four years before (1825), Jackson had been denied the presidency despite winning a plurality of popular and electoral votes. Absent a majority of electoral votes, the election had been decided by the House of Representatives in accordance with the 12th Amendment. They chose John Quincy Adams.

Now, while waiting for the final count, Jackson was in deep mourning over the death of Mrs. Jackson a few days before Christmas. The cause was deep depression followed by a heart attack. A bitter controversy had erupted during the campaign when political enemies charged their marriage was bigamous. Rachel Donelson Jackson was mortified to learn a divorce was in question from a prior marriage. Winning the presidency had magnified the embarrassment and she cried out to friends, “I would rather be a doorkeeper in the house of God than live in that palace in Washington.”

So began a new era in American politics as a strident, partisan president took office still seeking revenge. The new president was obsessed with attacking all special interest groups and their corrupt influence on Congress. Under his leadership, Democrats became the party of the common man. The mantle of populism rested easily on his shoulders and Washington politics would be transformed for an entire generation. The two-party system was now dominant as Democrats and Whigs shared power until the 1860 election.

The turbulence of AJ’s life carried over into the presidency as he defined his policies, not by enacting legislation, but by defiantly thwarting it! He vetoed more bills than the combined total of all six of his predecessors. He was a man in a hurry and Cabinet members either followed his orders or they were quickly dispatched. As an example, the national debt was $58 million when he assumed office in 1829 and by Jan. 1, 1835, it had totally been eliminated (for the first and ONLY time to this day).

Nothing was sacred from his reform crusade and that especially included the Bank of the United States (BUS). The original BUS was created by Alexander Hamilton in 1791 to get the new government operating despite heavy debts from the War of Independence. The bank had been chartered for 20 years with the expectation the charter would be renewed. A successor BUS was founded in 1816, again with another 20-year quasi-monopoly. Jackson believed the bank was unconstitutional (as had Jefferson). Jackson surprised everyone by attacking the bank in his very first message to Congress.

He then promptly vetoed the bill to renew the charter in 1836 by saying, “It is to be regretted that the rich and powerful too often bend the acts of government to their selfish purposes.”

However, since the bank charter wouldn’t expire until 1836, Jackson decided not to wait. He ordered his Treasury Secretary, William Duane, to withdraw all government funds from the bank and deposit them with state charted banks. Congress had just legislated against this and Secretary Duane refused Jackson’s edict. The president simply fired him and transferred Attorney General Roger Taney into the Treasury job. The Senate, now controlled by Whigs, was furious and refused to approve Taney’s nomination. But they were too slow and the damage was already complete.

Totally frustrated, in March 1834 the Senate adopted a resolution of censure of Jackson, charging him with “assuming authority and power not conferred by the Constitution and laws, but in derogation of both.” It was viewed as an impeachment, but without the Constitutional process.

The Whigs responded, “The resolution, then, was in substance an impeachment of the president, and in passage amounts to a declaration by the majority of the Senate that he is guilty of an impeachable offence. As such, it is spread upon the journals of the Senate, published to the nation and to the world, made part of our enduring archives, and incorporated in the history of the age.”

That enduring “history of the age” lasted less than three years. In January 1837, Democrats, back in control of the Senate, voted to expunge the censure resolution, writing boldly across the original record, “EXPUNGED BY ORDER OF THE SENATE THIS 16TH DAY OF JANUARY, IN THE YEAR OF OUR LORD, 1837.”

Amen.

‘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

Our country is a better place because of Horace Greeley

A rare 1872 presidential campaign banner for Horace Greeley and Benjamin Gratz Brown sold for $38,750 at a November 2018 Heritage auction.

By Jim O’Neal

In his autobiography, Horace Greeley made a critical observation when he wrote: “Having loved and devoured newspapers, I early resolved to be a printer if I could.” Not only was he able to fulfill his resolution, but a strong case exists that he was probably the preeminent printer/editor of the 18th century, easily surpassing Ben Franklin, James Gordon Bennett and the other prominent American editors.

Newspapers had started as a modest sideline for printers before they evolved into a potent force leading the inexorable push in support of American independence. It is telling that the founders, who debated for months over the construction of the Constitution and made many compromises in the process, easily agreed on the value of a free and independent press. The very first Amendment to this sacred document guaranteed freedom of the press and it is still the first one to be defended yet today without any controversy. In addition, the Postal Service Act of 1792 established generous subsidies to ensure widespread circulation (under the law, a newspaper was delivered to subscribers for only 1 penny up to 100 miles away).

As a child, Greeley (1811-1872) demonstrated a remarkable affinity for the printed word. He learned to read by age 3, and polished off the entire Bible two years later before starting on John Bunyan’s The Pilgrim’s Progress – a Christian allegory (1678) cited as the first novel written in English. This purportedly was followed by the Arabian Nights.

He had an encyclopedic memory crammed with dates, facts and significant events. Children with these mental abilities typically had little time for physical ability and Greeley was no exception. He was of little use in planting crops, tending animals or simply cavorting with other children. However, he was so obviously intelligent that a wealthy neighbor offered to send him to the prestigious Phillips Exeter Academy and then on to college. The Greeley family refused to accept any form of charity and Horace became even more determined to be successful.

In 1826, he accepted a position as a printer’s apprentice and in his spare time he read his way through the town’s public library. By 1831, he had migrated to New York City, trying his hand at various jobs involving printing, but with only modest success. Within three years, he was able to publish the first issue of The New-Yorker, an inexpensive literary magazine that failed during the Panic of 1837.

Undaunted, in 1840 he borrowed $1,000 and with the remnants of The New-Yorker started the now famous New-York Tribune. His timing was perfect and the Tribune was a success nearly from the first issue. Greeley had developed a revolutionary credo that was quickly adopted by the masses … the simple premise that newspapers should be printed to both entertain and inform the entire community. His competition had adopted a style that was limited to narrow petty issues, private interests and too many advertisements for shady schemes.

Greeley’s success as a publisher was primarily due to his bold thinking, daring imagination and total rejection of the stifling precedent that was so common. He literally invented the modern-style newspaper, much as Thomas Edison invented the light bulb. Those countless hours of reading had given him a discriminating taste and an eye for superior printing that hadn’t existed.

For three decades in the middle of the 19th century (1840-70), his pen produced a virtual torrent of essays, articles and books that earned him a reputation as a highly respected printer/editor in the newspaper vortex of New York. Inevitably, politics became his area of expertise, altering the form and content in new and exciting ways. Many believe he personally created modern journalism, proclaiming, “He chases rascals, not dollars.”

He was described as having a weird appearance … tall and angular with a head, torso and limbs that didn’t match. This was a perfect match for the range of topics he eagerly promoted: socialism (hiring Karl Marx to extoll the virtues), vegetarianism, agrarianism, feminism (he supported black suffrage but not for women), temperance and anti-trust (60 years before Teddy Roosevelt). He was anti-slavery but not for abolition, and was willing to let slave states secede at will (they will come back … no need for war).

This whole story came to an end in 1872 when he felt compelled to challenge President Ulysses S. Grant. Despite being one of the founders of the Republican Party, he had exposed a devastating list of crimes, corruption and incompetence that Grant had to be held accountable for. In a twist, the Democrats – who didn’t have their own candidate – nominated Greeley as a Liberal Republican!

Greeley died 30 days before the election and Grant had a reasonable second term.

Our country was a better place because of Horace Greeley.

This strange-appearing man – who managed to make Abraham Lincoln look debonair, who was too frightened to play baseball, yet who had the temerity to mingle with frenzied crowds taunting him after he paid the bail for Jefferson Davis after the Civil War – set a standard for personal ethics that still stands, although lost in the mist of history.

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.

Maybe it’s time for a First Gentleman

A three-piece coin silver coffee set, circa 1855, that belonged to Jefferson and Varina Davis sold for $28,680 at a June 2013 Heritage auction.

By Jim O’Neal

When a discussion of First Ladies occurs, the names of Dolley Madison, Eleanor Roosevelt and Jackie Kennedy Onassis are invariably among the first to be named. However, thanks to David McCullough’s splendid book (and TV mini-series) on John Adams, Abigail Adams (wife of one president and mother of a second) has gained long-overdue respect. Her wisdom, wit and persistent advocacy for equal rights for women was both fresh and modern.

The Adams marriage is well-documented due to an abundance of personal correspondence. She is also particularly associated with a March 1776 letter to John and the Continental Congress requesting that they “remember the ladies, and be more generous to them than your ancestors!”

As the first First Lady to reside in the White House, she was in a perfect position to lobby for women’s rights, especially when it came to private property and opportunities for a better education. After all, mothers played a central role in educating the family’s children. The more education she had, the better educated the entire family. It was this type of impeccable logic that made her so persuasive.

Had John won a second term, women’s progress would have been a big beneficiary with four more years of Abigail’s influence on policy-makers.

Abigail Adams is also given full credit for the total reconciliation of two long-time political enemies: Thomas Jefferson and her grouchy husband. They finally resumed their correspondence, which lasted right up until their same-day deaths on July 4, 1826 – the 50th anniversary of the founding of the nation.

That same year (1826), Varina Howell was born in rural Louisiana. Her grandfather, Richard Howell, served with distinction in the American Revolution (1775-1783) and would become governor of New Jersey in the 1790s. Her father fought in the War of 1812 and then settled in Natchez, Miss. Varina would later jokingly call herself a “half-breed” since she was born in a family with deep roots in both the North and South.

Jefferson Davis (1808-1899) was another prominent example of people who had deep ties to both the North and South, both in government and the military. In September 1824, he entered the U.S. Military Academy (West Point). He was in the middle of his class and was an infantryman 2nd Lieutenant in 1828. He married Sarah Taylor, daughter of President Zachary Taylor. However, they both contracted a fever and she died three months later. Deeply depressed, he lived in seclusion on his plantation until elected to Congress.

When the Mexican War started, he joined his ex-father-in-law’s army at Camargo, Mexico. Davis and his Mississippi riflemen did heroic duty. Davis was wounded at the Battle of Buena Vista and returned to the United States to find himself a hero. He was appointed to fill an unexpired U.S. Senate term. He was re-elected in 1850, gained prominence and made an unsuccessful bid to be governor. Newly elected President Franklin Pierce added him to his Cabinet as Secretary of War. Pierce had a problem with alcohol and relied on Davis to substitute when needed.

Inexorably, he was drawn into the vortex over the slavery issue. He spoke often of his love for the Union and even as the moral issues grew, he still felt the Union was safe, despite being fully aware of the growing political storm clouds. Devoted to the nation by lineage, history and patriotism, he was torn by the compact theory of the Union. These tenets held that the states were in fact sovereign, but they had yielded it by joining the Union and had to secede to reclaim it. He argued for stronger states’ rights within the Union, while urging moderation and restraint to save the Republic.

In December 1860, he was appointed to the Senate Committee of Thirteen, charged with finding a solution to the growing crisis. Davis ultimately judged the situation as hopeless and (reluctantly) advised secession and the formation of a Southern Confederacy.

Weary, dejected and ill, Jefferson Davis made a farewell address to the Senate on Jan. 21, 1861, emphasizing the South’s determination to leave the Union. Disunion was finally a stark reality. He and his family left Washington, D.C., and returned to Mississippi. It was there that he learned of his election as president of the Provisional Government of the Confederate States of America.

The Confederate guns began firing at Fort Sumter on April 12, 1861.

War began.

In one of the Civil War’s richest ironies, the second Mrs. Jefferson Davis – his wife of 16 years – was openly critical of secession, calling it foolish and predicting the Confederacy would never survive. As the first First Lady, she characterized her time as the worst four years of her life. She told her mother the South did not have the resources to win and when it was over, “She would run with the rest!”

She did run to Manhattan and supported herself writing columns for Joseph Pulitzer’s New York World. That baby born in 1826 had fallen in love with Jefferson Davis and became Varina Howell Davis. The only First Lady of the Confederacy died in 1906 and her tombstone reads simply “AT PEACE.”

Considering the wisdom of Abigail Adams and Varina Davis, maybe it’s time for a First Gentleman.

FDR deserves credit for steering our ship through dangerous waters

This Wendell Willkie “Out at Third” campaign button – a reference to Franklin Roosevelt’s 1940 third-term candidacy – sold for $9,560 at a November 2009 auction.

By Jim O’Neal

On Sept. 19, 1940, loyal hard-core supporters of the New Deal awoke to a rather startling surprise. The venerable editorial gurus at The New York Times announced their choice for the upcoming presidential election … and it was not Franklin Delano Roosevelt!

The Times had supported FDR in 1932 and 1936, but in 1940, they decided to support his Republican opponent, Wendell Willkie. In rationalizing this decision, they prepared a long preamble describing the seriousness of national and world affairs, but without offering anything new that was not already common knowledge: “One of the great crises in American history … a hostile force sweeping across Europe … impossible to continue isolation … world revolution at stake … Americans fortunate to have two candidates who agree on fundamental foreign policy.”

To buttress their choice of Willkie, they asserted he was better equipped to provide the country with an adequate national defense. They described him as a practical liberal who understood the need for increased production and, lastly, because the fiscal policies of Roosevelt had failed disastrously. And, as a coup de grâce, it was their belief that the traditional safeguards of democracy were failing everywhere. They did not mention that Willkie was a corporate lawyer, read Marx and lobbied for his college to teach socialism. They also failed to mention that Fortune magazine had dedicated an entire edition to Willkie.

Instead, they added to this litany the old third-term taboo, a principal that dated to George Washington. Perhaps they didn’t realize that Washington was too sick to serve a third term (he would die the following year) or that Thomas Jefferson turned down a third term for purely precedent-setting political reasons.

But The Times conceded that FDR had a taken a number of steps to bolster defense, including the new Defense Advisory Commission, before quickly deriding it for lack of real power (it had become a mere consultancy) unable to cut through Washington’s red tape. Instead, they much preferred Willkie’s call for individual sacrifice, hard work and “sweat and toil.” They found this more reassuring than Roosevelt’s speeches, designed to maintain morale. In essence, they were charging the president with a lack of substance.

In choosing Willkie, they were arguing for a business leader with practical experience in stimulating economic growth, while expanding industrial production. “In this field, Willkie is the professional and Mr. Roosevelt the amateur.” A harsh indictment of the country’s leader!

Then the NYT in its editorial proceeded to excoriate FDR for fiscal policy (under an argument it titled “The Road to Bankruptcy”) by highlighting three specific policies that had become reckless:

● A silver policy that had grown to incredible proportions. They cited more than 2 billion ounces of silver – “which our government has no earthly use” – purchased by the Treasury “at overvalued prices in an artificial market. This policy makes no sense, except as a political maneuver.”

● A national debt that had doubled in seven years.

● Welfare programs that would lead citizens to bed rather than work.

In retrospect, we know the NYT was wrong on many levels. Collectively, the New Deal kept the country together through the entirety of the two greatest travails ever visited on the United States. Times were tough and sacrifices many, but we emerged with our republic intact. Roosevelt proved himself tough enough to steer our ship through rough and dangerous waters.

The economic and social reforms of the New Deal created a legacy of new solutions, from the Works Progress Administration and Social Security to banking and financial regulations and a modicum of security to millions of people who’d never tasted it. FDR managed to impart a freedom from fear that resulted in a platform to take on the sacrifices of the impending war.

We ramped up a massive display of Americanism. The Selective Service Act established the first peacetime conscription in U.S. history, while Rosie the Riveter galvanized generations of women as factory workers, warriors and healers … all keeping the home safe. The stimulus from war production produced a Keynesian effect that wiped out the lingering depression.

Thanks to the strategic blunder of Dec. 7, 1941, we saved the free world and possibly civilization as well. Starting with a “Germany First” strategy (whereby the United States and the United Kingdom agreed to subdue Nazi Germany first), Americans gradually led the world back to peace and, in the process, became the Peace-Keeper-Rebuilder.

Perhaps for the first time in modern history, conquering armies did not take vast territories or treasure. We brought our troops home and resumed the American story.

The world owes America a debt that has long been forgotten.

A little-known postscript: FDR and Willkie discussed starting a new liberal party to supplant Republicans and Democrats. Willkie died before the idea had a chance to become a reality, but it’s fun to contemplate how different things might be today.

Who will continue the story of the greatest country in history?

The myth of George Washington chopping down a cherry tree appears on this tin mechanical badge, which dates to 1889.

By Jim O’Neal

It is always a pleasant surprise to discover an obscure name that has been lost in the sands of America’s history. Charles Thomson (1729-1824) falls into that category. He was Secretary of the Continental Congress from 1774 continuously until the U.S. Constitution was firmly in place and the bi-cameral government was functioning in 1789.

He was also the only non-delegate to actually sign the Declaration of Independence. A surprisingly active participant in the Revolutionary War, he wrote a 1,000-page manuscript on the politics of the times. It included the formation of the Continental Congress and a daily recap of speeches and debates right up to the agreement to go forward. In concept, it was a remarkable, contemporary record that is unique (except for notes James Madison complied). The public was not allowed to even attend the meetings in Philadelphia.

Alas, Thomson’s manuscript was never published since he destroyed it. Purportedly, it was because he wanted to preserve the reputations of these heroes and assumed that others would write about these historic times. The obvious implication is that his candid verbatim notes might tarnish some of his fellow colleagues. Thomson receives credit for helping design the Great Seal of the United States and since he personally chose what to include in the official journal of the Continental Congress, we’re left to wonder what he omitted or later burned … another example of why history is normally not considered precisely correct.

As Secretary of the Congress, Thomson personally rode to Mount Vernon, Va., and delivered the news to George Washington that he had been elected president of the United States. He told Washington that Congress was delighted he’d agreed “to sacrifice domestic ease and private enjoyments to preserve the happiness of your country.” Washington, in turn, said he couldn’t promise to be a great president, but could promise only “that which can be done by honest zeal.”

Political pundits opine that the office of the president was perfectly suited for George Washington, especially during the early formative years of the nation. A well-known hero in the fight for independence, he was a national leader who gained power without compromising himself or his principles. Absent the burden of a political party, he could have easily assumed the kind of monarchical power the nation had fought against. But, like his hero Cincinnatus, he had laid down his sword and returned to the plow. Clearly, this was a case of the office seeking the man as opposed to the reverse.

Washington truly did not aspire to the presidency – perhaps unique compared to all the men who followed. In his own words, he considered those eight years a personal sacrifice. In that era, land was the ultimate symbol of wealth and prestige. Through inheritance, he had acquired Mount Vernon and roughly 2,000 acres. That was not close to satisfying his ambitions and he spent much of his private life in a search of more … much more!

Historian John Clark called him an “inveterate land-grabber” and there’s plenty of evidence to support the claim. In 1767, he grabbed land set aside for Indians by the Crown by telling the surveyor to keep it a secret. This was followed by another 20,000 acres designated for soldiers in the French and Indian War. Washington arranged for officers to participate and then bought the land after telling the solders it was hilly, scrubby acreage. Washington would later boast that he had received “the cream of the country.”

Most biographies have been consistent in pointing out that land may have been a prime factor in his decision to court the widow Martha Parke Custis. They invariably point to his strong affection for Sally Fairfax, but she was his best friend’s wife. Martha was not without attraction. As one of the richest widows in North America, her marriage to George resulted in a windfall since what was hers became his. In addition to nearly 100 slaves, her 6,000 acres made George a very rich man. Details of their relationship are not available since Martha burned their love letters after his death.

However, since slaves over 12 were taxed, there are public records. During the first year of their marriage (he was 26 and she was 28), he acquired 13 slaves, then another 42 between 1761 and 1773. From tax records, we know he personally owned 56 slaves in 1761 … 62 in 1762 … 78 in 1765 … and 87 in the 1770s. Washington, Jefferson, Madison and most Virginia planters openly acknowledged the immorality of slavery, while confessing an inability to abolish it without financial ruin.

Washington had a reputation for tirelessly providing medical treatment for his slaves. But, was it for regard of property or more humane considerations? I suspect the answer lies somewhere in between.

As the first president, the paramount issue – among the many priorities of his first term – was to resolve the new government’s crushing debt. In 1790, the debt was estimated at $42 million. It was owed to common citizens of modest means and to thousands of Revolutionary War veterans whose IOUs had never been redeemed as stipulated by the Articles of Confederation. The war pension certificates they held had declined dramatically by 15 to 20 percent of face value.

Raising taxes was too risky and states might rebel. Ignore the debt, as had been the custom for several years, and the federal government risked its already weak reputation. The new president had to turn to his Cabinet for advice. He had an excellent eye for talent and the brilliant Alexander Hamilton was Treasury Secretary. He quickly formed a plan to create a new Bank of the United States (BUS). Since the bank would be backed by the federal government, people would feel safer about lending money and, as creditors, they would have a stake in both the bank and the government. Although Thomas Jefferson opposed the BUS, Washington prevailed in Congress.

Washington was re-elected four years later, again with a unanimous vote in the Electoral College. The first popular voting would not occur until 1824 and since that time, five presidential candidates have been elected despite losing the popular vote: John Quincy Adams (1824), Rutherford Hayes (1876), Benjamin Harrison (1888), George W. Bush (2000), and Donald J. Trump (2016).

It’s not easy starting a new country. There were no cherry trees to chop down as Parson Weems’ story describes. George Washington did not throw a silver dollar across the Rappahannock River. These are all fairy tales that grew over time. Yes, George Washington owned slaves and told a lie now and then. He was obsessed with land at one time. But, when it came to crunch time, he stepped up and committed eight years of his life to his country.

The big question now seems to be where we’ll find another man or woman to continue the story of the greatest country in history?

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.