Historical – Page 4 – The Intelligent Collector Magazine

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.)

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].

Does America still have ‘the right stuff’ to continue this remarkable story?

This 1903 Louisiana Purchase Gold Dollar, Jefferson Design, minted to commemorate the centennial of the Louisiana Purchase, realized $37,600 at an April 2017 Heritage auction.

By Jim O’Neal

The 19th century in the United States was by any standard an unusually remarkable period. In 1800, John Adams was still president, but had lost his bid for re-election to Vice President Thomas Jefferson, the man behind the words in our precious Bill of Rights. Alexander Hamilton had used his personal New York influence to break a tie with Aaron Burr, since Jefferson was considered the least disliked of the two political enemies. (Burr would kill Hamilton in a duel in 1803 by cleverly escalating a disagreement into a matter of honor.)

There were 16 states in 1800 (Ohio would join the Union as no. 17) and the nation’s population had grown to 5.3 million. Within weeks of becoming president, Jefferson learned that Spain had receded a large portion of its North American territory to France. Napoleon now owned 530 million acres, more than what the United States controlled. Fearful that losing control of New Orleans to our new French neighbor would lead to losing control of the strategically important Mississippi River, he developed a plan without including Congress.

He dispatched Robert Livingston and James Monroe to buy greater New Orleans for $10 million. They were pleasantly surprised when the French offered to sell 100 percent of their North American territories for $15 million cash … less several million in pending claims. Concerned that the French would change their offer before they could get formal approval, an agreement in principle was agreed to (later formally approved by Congress after James Madison’s assurance of its constitutionality.)

What a prize! 828,000 square miles for 3 cents an acre, virtually doubling the size of the United States and gaining control of the mighty Mississippi and shipping into the Gulf of Mexico. With this uncertainty removed, cotton production now expanded rapidly south and soon represented over 50 percent of total exports. With the aid of the cotton gin and slave labor, the United States now controlled 70 percent of the world’s production. Ominously, seeds of a great civil war were planted with each cotton plant.

For millions of people overseas, conquest or riches were not their primary ambition. Escaping the clutches of famine trumped all other hardships of life. 1842 was the first year in America’s history that more than 100,000 immigrants arrived in a single year. Five years later, the number from Ireland alone exceeded this, with Irish coming to America to escape the scourge of the Great Famine. In the 1840s and ’50s, 20 percent of the entire population of Ireland crossed the Atlantic in search of a better life. In sharp contrast to the Pilgrims on the Mayflower – who were on a financial venture supplied with rations – the Catholic Irish left in rags to avoid starvation in a mainly Protestant nation.

Concurrently, another wave from the European mainland was fleeing revolution and counterrevolution. In Germany, half-a-million left in a three-year period (1852-55) as a spirit of revolt captured the European continent. “We are sleeping on a volcano,” warned Alexis de Tocqueville. Meanwhile, two German thinkers (Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels) penned their intellectual nonsense, The Communist Manifesto, from the safety and luxury of London.

In the United States, just before the impending boomlet of immigration in 1846, total railroad mileage was a meager 5,000 miles. Ten years later, it quintupled to 25,000 as the influx of labor to lay iron rails was a perfect match for $400 million in capital. As famine and revolution were destroying Europe, their foreign transplants were busy transforming their new homeland. Also, the transition of coal to steam to steamboats scampering around the newly dug connecting canals would inspire new communications like the telegraph and Pony Express. While the country had been busy absorbing the wave of immigrants, it had also been in the throes of a decades-long internal migration west.

Thomas Jefferson had predicted it would be 1,000 years before the frontier reached the Pacific Ocean. Only 23 years after his death in 1826, gold was discovered in California and the fever to get rich started a westward movement that expanded globally. Once under way, the richness of the soil and massive new resources of rivers, forests, fish and bison would expand the migration to include farmers and their families. Horace Greeley shouted, “Go West, young man” and they did.

With room to grow and prosper, by 1900 the population would expand by a factor of 15 times to 76 million. They resided in 45 states after the Utah territories joined the Union in 1896. Fulfilling the vision of Manifest Destiny (from sea to sea), the rural population of 95 percent evolved as urbanization grew to 40 percent as industrialization and worker immigrants staffed the factories and cities. A short war with Mexico added California, Arizona and New Mexico, and President Polk’s annexation of Texas in 1845 filled in the contiguous states.

However, it was the railroads that created the permanence. With 30,000 miles of track in 1860, America already surpassed every other nation in the world. The continual growth was phenomenal: 1870 (53k), 1880 (93k), 1890 (160k) and by 1900 almost 200,000 … a six-fold increase in a mere 40-year period. Yes, there were problems: Illinois had 11 time zones and Wisconsin 38, but this was harmonized by 1883. Most importantly, they connected virtually every city and town in America and employed 1 million people!

Throw in a few extras like electricity, oil wells, steel mills and voila! The greatest nation ever built from scratch. Today, we have 6 percent of the people on 6 percent of the land and 30 percent of the world’s economic activity … and we are celebrating the 50-year anniversary of putting a man on the moon.

Do we still have “the right stuff” to continue this remarkable story? I say definitely, if we demand that our leaders remember how we got here.

Moral arguments continue over the use of atomic weapons in WWII

A 1971 photograph of Emperor Hirohito and Empress Nagako, signed, sold for $8,125 at an April 2015 Heritage auction.

By Jim O’Neal

If history is any guide, the month of August will arrive right on schedule. Inevitably, it will be accompanied by yet another birthday (no. 82 if my math is correct) and intellectual debates over the use of atomic bombs dropped on two Japanese cities in August 1945. Despite the passage of 74 years and the fact that it ended World War II, it remains the most controversial decision of a long, bloody war.

As a reminder, President Franklin Roosevelt had died in April 1945 soon after the start of his record fourth term in office. Vice President Harry Truman had taken his place and the new president attended a conference in defeated Germany to discuss how to persuade or force Japan to surrender. Persuasion was not really an option since the Empire of Japan was firmly committed to continue even if it resulted in the annihilation of its people and the total destruction of their country.

They had demonstrated their resolve during the bloody island-by-island fighting that left the Japanese mainland as the final target. Another amphibious landing was ruled out due to the expected enormous loss of life and an oath of 100 million inhabitants to fight until killed. Estimates vary on how many Americans would die … but they were all too high.

One strategy was to simply blockade all their ports and use our overwhelming air superiority to bomb them until they relented. But President Truman had a secret weapon and was fully prepared to use it if Japan resisted.

On July 26, 1945, Truman, British Prime Minister Winston Churchill and President Chiang Kai-shek of the Republic of China signed the Potsdam Declaration that warned the Japanese that if they did not agree to an “unconditional surrender,” they would face “prompt and utter destruction.” In addition, 3 million leaflets were dropped on the mainland to be sure the people were aware of the stakes and perhaps help pressure the leadership.

Afterwards, critics of what became the nuclear option have argued it was inhumane and violated a wartime code-of-ethics, perhaps like mustard gas or the chemical weapons ban we have today. However, it helps to remember that the avoidance of attacking non-combatant civilians had long been discarded by the mass bombings of European cities (e.g. the infamous firebombing of Dresden). And then the even more brutally systematic firebombing of Japanese cities. Destruction became the singular objective, knowing that ending the war would save more lives than any precision bombing.

Case in point is Air Force General Curtis LeMay, who arrived in Guam in January 1945 to take command of the 21st Bomber Command. His theory of war is eerily similar to General William Tecumseh Sherman’s “March to the Sea” in the Civil War. LeMay explained: “You’ve got to kill people, and when you kill enough, they stop fighting.” Precision bombing had given way to terror attacks that included civilian deaths indiscriminately.

Importantly, Lemay had just the right equipment to destroy Japan’s highly flammable cities filled with wooden houses. First was a highly lethal weapon called the M-69 projectile developed by Standard Oil. It was a 6-pound bomblet that consisted of burning gelatinized gasoline that, when stuck to a target, was inextinguishable. Second was a fleet of B-29 Superfortresses, ideal for continental bombing. They were powered by 4×2200 hp engines with a crew of 11 and a range of 4,000 miles. On March 9 … 344 B-29s began dropping M-69s over Tokyo in a crisscross pattern that merged into a sea of flames. The result was 90,000 dead and another million homeless. The victims died from fire, asphyxiation and buildings falling on them. Some were simply boiled to death in superheated canals or ponds where they sought refuge from the fire.

Over the next four to five months, they attacked 66 of Japan’s largest cities, killing another 800,000 and leaving 8 million homeless.

Despite this demonstration of power, the Japanese formal reply to the Potsdam Declaration included the word “mokusatsu,” which was interpreted as an imperial refusal. It was on this basis that Truman gave the order to proceed with bombing Hiroshima on Aug. 6. He left Potsdam and was at sea when the ship’s radio received a prearranged statement from the White House: “16 hours ago, an American airplane dropped one bomb on Hiroshima … it is an atomic bomb … it is harnessing the basic power of the universe.” Three days later on Aug. 9, a second bomb was dropped on Nagasaki.

Japanese Emperor Hirohito agreed to capitulate and an imperial script announcing the decision to the Japanese people was recorded for radio broadcast. Most Japanese had never heard the emperor’s voice.

As the moral arguments continue about the use of atomic weapons on people (in WWII), I find it to be a distinction without a difference … at least compared to having one of Lemay’s little M-69s stuck on my back.

Roosevelt selected a running mate who now ranks among the best

A pencil portrait of Franklin Roosevelt by E.A. Burbank, dated 1939 and signed by both, sold for $2,270 at a June 2008 auction.

“I hardly know Truman.” – Franklin Delano Roosevelt (1944)

By Jim O’Neal

President Franklin Roosevelt was a tired and worn out man. The worry aroused by his appearance was more than justified. Unbeknown to all but a few, he was suffering from a progressive, debilitating cardiovascular disease. Several elite cardiologists agreed he would be dead within a year, especially if he decided to run for a fourth term. But FDR was determined, and told a few close confidants that he would resign as soon as WWII was concluded satisfactorily.

He had ventured into national politics when his name, youth and political strength in populous New York led to his nomination for vice president in 1920. The DNC had met in June in San Francisco and picked James Cox for the president slot. However, the Republican ticket of Warren Harding and Calvin Coolidge won easily.

The following year, the 39-year-old Roosevelt contracted poliomyelitis while vacationing at the family’s summer home on Campobello Island in Canada. He was crippled in both legs, permanently. In a show of intestinal fortitude, he mastered the use of leg braces, crutches and a wheelchair; he built his upper-body strength by swimming. He demonstrated his new skills in dramatic fashion in June 1924 at the National Democratic Convention.

He rose from a wheelchair and, unassisted, walked to the speaker’s rostrum and nominated Al Smith for president. The crowd went wild after Roosevelt crowned Smith “the Happy Warrior of the political battlefield.” Smith ultimately lost the nomination that year; four years later in 1928 he won the nomination but lost the election to Herbert Hoover. The economic good times favored the better-known Hoover, but there was also the lingering issue of Smith’s Catholicism. This would remain an issue until 1960 when Jack Kennedy would vanquish it permanently.

In 1930, FDR was re-elected governor of New York. In the wake of the stock market crash, he convinced the legislature to provide $20 million to the unemployed. This was the first direct unemployment aid by any state and was a harbinger of bigger government programs. It was also a springboard to the 1932 Democratic nomination for president. FDR was so energized that he flew to Chicago to accept – the first time a nominee accepted in person.

No one was surprised at the results of the 1932 election, when FDR defeated Hoover in a landslide. The country had turned on Hoover and the Republicans and was eager and impatient to have the new president installed. This led directly to the 20th Amendment of the Constitution, which advanced the presidential inauguration to Jan. 20 and Congress to Jan. 3. Alas, it didn’t go into effect until 1933. Hoover was full of ideas on how to help the new president, but Roosevelt was less willing to accept any advice, since he had his own plans.

And so it began. With a soothing voice and supreme self-confidence, Roosevelt rallied a fear-ridden country to overcome the Great Depression. With a New Deal, he provided social justice; security to the aged; relief to the unemployed; and higher wages to the working man. He revamped the federal government, adding scores of new agencies and reshaping the Democratic Party from states’ rights into a Hamiltonian model of a strong central government.

Twelve years went by fast, and the last days of the Second World War required a series of critical decisions and it started with a decision on a fourth term. His trusted advisers saw defeat unless something was done about VP Henry Wallace. A plant geneticist by profession, he had become very popular as an author, lecturer and social thinker. To the “wise men,” he seemed pathetically out of place and painfully lacking in political talent. But there was more concern over the president’s declining health, which could no longer be ignored. All realized that the man nominated to run with Roosevelt would probably be the next president.

That man turned out to be Senator Harry Truman from Missouri. Together, they would win the 1944 election; 82 days after taking office, Truman would become president when FDR died on April 12, 1945. He would end the war as expected, win re-election in 1948 and become embroiled in another war, this time with Korea. However, with each passing year, Truman continues to gain in stature and now often polls among the top 10 best presidents.

Lewis Cass among most important yet least known 19th century politicians

A rare political campaign daguerreotype of Lewis Cass from 1848 sold for $17,925 at a February 2007 Heritage auction.

By Jim O’Neal

By 1848, slavery had inexorably become a national issue. Opinions were slowly but surely being formed, much as wet cement hardens while baking in the sun. Generally, most people agreed that slavery should be “hands off” and left alone in the 15 states where it already existed.

However, they disagreed violently over whether it should be permitted in new regions. Pro-slavers insisted it be allowed to follow the U.S. flag. But anti-slavery backers (primarily Northerners) strongly opposed expansion into federal territories. Their logic was impeccable. Strong containment policies would eventually lead to complete elimination everywhere. This was the same flawed thinking that the framers of the Constitution had tripped over when they permitted a 20-year phase-out period. Except the difference, of course, was that without this clause, there were not enough votes to ratify the Constitution. Deception? Probably, but there was an overarching priority in favor of ratification … kick it down the road … maybe it will just wither away.

Naturally, the political leaders of both the Whigs and Democrats were just as anxious to duck the issue entirely. Both parties relied on support from voters in every section of the country. However, the issue was now much too prominent and the slavery issue ended up playing a major role in the 1848 presidential election.

Meeting in Baltimore in May 1848, the Democrats were the first to select candidates. For president, they went for Michigan Senator Lewis Cass. He had been a territorial governor for years and would be the first Democratic candidate from the area known as the Northwest. Many years later (1861), as James Buchanan’s Secretary of State, he begged the president to send reinforcements to Fort Sumter to keep the South from raiding its guns and supplies. He resigned when Buchanan predictably refused; it was the only option the 79-year-old diplomat had to display his strong objections.

Cass was 6 years old when his mother held him up to the window of their home to watch the bonfires blazing in the streets of Exeter, when New Hampshire became the ninth and final state required to ratify the Constitution. When he resigned, he memorably said, “I saw the Constitution born, and I fear I may see it die.” The Constitution survived, but 620,000 Americans died in the war to preserve the Union.

Cass was solidly known as an advocate for “squatter sovereignty” – the right of settlers in federal territories to decide the slavery issue for themselves. At the Baltimore convention, the New York delegation quickly split over the selection of Cass for president, accompanied by a party platform that declined to take a firm stand on the extension of slavery. They simply walked out and, along with other anti-slavery people, organized the Free Soil Party, which was firmly dedicated to preventing slavery in all federal territories. They chose the hapless ex-President Martin Van Buren and Charles Francis Adams (son of the sixth president) with an unequivocal slogan: “Free Soil, Free Speech, Free Labor and Free Men.”

With the Democrats now divided, the Whigs made their choice at a convention in June in Philadelphia. Sticking to a “War Hero General” formula that proved to be successful, they confidently chose General Zachary Taylor of Louisiana, “Old Rough and Ready,” the hero of the recent war with Mexico. Many Whigs (including a young Abraham Lincoln) were appalled by the choice. Not only was he too old (64), but he had never been involved in politics! In fact, he had never even voted and admitted he knew little about national domestic issues.

Daniel Webster called him “an illiterate frontier colonel” and warned that many thousands of Whigs “will not vote for a candidate … simply because of a war record.”

Webster turned out to be terribly wrong and the party backed “Old Zach” just as they had selected “Old Tippecanoe” (William Henry Harrison) in 1840. Taylor easily beat Lewis Cass on Nov. 7, 1848 – the first presidential election that took place on the same day in every state and the first Election Day statutorily on a Tuesday.

Taylor died on July 9 two years later and was the last president elected who was not a Republican or a Democrat … a period of 198 years (yes, I know that Lincoln ran in 1864 for the Union Party after becoming the first Republican president in 1860). Third-party candidates do not do well … just ask Teddy Roosevelt.

Cass remains a good candidate for the most important yet least known of any politician in 19th century America.

Couriers through history have toted a staggering volume of items

Alf Landon’s congratulatory postal telegram to Franklin D. Roosevelt on Nov. 4, 1936, realized $7,767 at a June 2008 Heritage auction.

By Jim O’Neal

The passing of information over great distances is an ancient practice that’s used many clever techniques.

In 400 B.C., there were signal towers on the Great Wall of China; beacon lights or drumbeats also were used to relay information. By 200 B.C., the Han dynasty evolved a complex mix of lights and flags. Speed has always been a priority and took many forms, including at the U.S. Postal Service. “Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night stays these couriers from the swift completion of their appointed rounds” is the unofficial motto of the Postal Service (probable source: The Persian Wars by Herodotus).

Authorized by Congress in 1792, the many forecasts of the Post Office Department’s imminent demise appear to be exaggerated. We still get incoming six days a week and a post-office driver delivered a package to my place at 8 p.m. last week … one day after I ordered it from Amazon. The post office – renamed the U.S. Postal Service in 1971 – is now running prime-time ads claiming they deliver more e-commerce packages than anyone.

Through history, postal couriers have toted a staggering volume of items, as well as a few astonishing ones. A resourceful farmer once shipped a bale of hay from Oregon to Idaho. A real coconut was sent fourth class from Miami to Detroit with the address and postage affixed to the hull. Even sections of pre-fab houses have been mailed, delivered and then assembled into full-size homes.

Accounts vary as to where the 53-cent postage was affixed to pre-schooler Charlotte May Pierstorff the day her parents mailed her to see her grandmother in Idaho. In 1914, they had discovered it was cheaper to send her by U.S. mail than the full-fare the railroad charged for children traveling alone. At 48½ pounds, little May fell within the parcel post 50-pound weight limit. She traveled in the train’s mail compartment and was safely delivered to grandma. She lived to be 78 and died in California. She’s featured in an exhibit at the Smithsonian … at the National Postal Museum.

Another cheapskate shipped an entire bank building – 80,000 bricks, all in small packages – from Salt Lake City to Vernal, Utah, in 1916. This time, the postmaster put his foot down … no more buildings! But 9,000 tons of gold bars were transferred from New York to Fort Knox in 1940-41. This time, the post office collected $1.6 million in postage and insurance. My all-time favorite was when jeweler Harry Winston donated the famous Hope Diamond to the Smithsonian in 1958. He kept costs low by sending the 45.52-carat gem in a plain brown wrapper by registered first-class mail. (Note: It arrived safely.)

The quest for speed took a quantum leap on May 24, 1844, when Samuel F.B. Morse sent the first telegraph. Standing in the chamber of the Supreme Court, Morse sent a four-word message to his assistant in Baltimore, who transmitted the message back. Members of Congress watched the demonstration with fascination. At the time, the Supreme Court was housed in the Capitol building. They finally got their own building in 1935 after heavy lobbying by Supreme Court Justice William Howard Taft.

For Americans at the turn of the 20th century, seeing a telegram messenger at the door usually meant bad news. Western Union and its competitors weren’t pleased by the fact that their roles as bearers of bad news had spread. So in 1914, they started emphasizing good-news messages, sending them in bright, cheerful seasonal envelopes. Next were 25-cent fixed-text telegrams that gave senders pre-written sentiments in 50 categories, like Pep-Gram #1339: “We are behind you for victory. Bring home the Bacon!” Forgot Mother’s Day? Use #432: “Please accept my love and kisses for my father’s dearest Mrs.” Next were singing telegrams, but they became passé and in 2006, Western shut down its telegram service.

The message of that first Morse telegraph in 1844 is a question we still ask after every innovation, whether it was faxes, the internet, email or texts: “What hath God wrought?”

Perhaps next is mental telepathy. Who knows? It will be faster and awe us once again.

As delegates hissed, Martin Van Buren became his party’s presidential nominee

Five miniature portraits of George Washington, John Adams, Thomas Jefferson, James Madison and Martin Van Buren, likely produced in Europe during Van Buren’s presidency, sold for $14,340 at a May 2012 Heritage auction.

By Jim O’Neal

Andrew Jackson had been denied the presidency in the election of 1824, despite winning most of the popular votes and electoral votes. In situations where a political candidate did not secure a majority, the House of Representatives decided which of the top three candidates (by vote totals) would become president. The top three in 1824 were Jackson, John Quincy Adams and William Crawford. Henry Clay had finished fourth and was dropped from consideration.

The House then voted and picked Adams for president and he subsequently appointed Clay to be Secretary of State. Critics claimed that Clay had persuaded the House to vote for Adams in a secret quid pro quo for the Cabinet position. The dispute became notorious and was dubbed “the Corrupt Bargain” by Jackson supporters.

However, Jackson bounced back four years later and soundly defeated JQA for the presidency. This was the second time an incumbent president had been defeated. Thomas Jefferson had defeated President John Adams in the election of 1800. Both Adamses, father and son, were bitter about their defeats, and the “Era of Good Feelings” that existed for eight years (1817-1825) under President James Monroe came to an abrupt end. The deterioration into partisan politics was precisely what George Washington had warned about if political parties were allowed to flourish. He was a man wise beyond his years, as we know so well today.

After Jackson served two tumultuous terms (1829-1837), the Hero of New Orleans was tired and ready to go home. He had abandoned the idea of a third term and even seriously considered an early retirement that would allow close friend and adviser Vice President Martin Van Buren to assume the presidency. This would help ensure a peaceful continuation of Jacksonianism and put Van Buren in a strong place for the 1836 election. Van Buren consistently opposed this and finally the idea was dropped. Jackson would patiently wait for the end of his term.

However, earlier in 1835, Jackson had strongly urged party leaders to hold a national convention composed of delegates “fresh from the people” to pick the nominees. He made no secret of his personal preferences: Martin Van Buren for president and Col. Richard Johnson of Kentucky for vice president. This was not a popular choice, especially in the South, where many considered Van Buren a slick New York politician and Johnson worse … much worse. Johnson was anathema to Southerners. His common-law wife was a black woman and they had two children, which Johnson openly acknowledged.

To others, the “Van Buren Convention” was a farce. They complained that several states didn’t send delegates and others sent too many. They singled out Tennessee, which didn’t have delegates, but simply found a merchant from Tennessee who was in Baltimore on business at the time, quickly admitted him to the convention and allowed him to cast all 15 Tennessee votes for Van Buren and Johnson. His name was Edward Rucker and “ruckerize” (assuming a position or function without credentials) entered the jargon as a pejorative with an easy definition. Eventually, Van Buren and Johnson were selected as the Democratic-Republican Party ticket, with the delegates from Virginia hissing as they walked out of the convention.

Van Buren’s opposition in 1836 was composed of various anti-Jackson parties that had formed a new party called the Whigs. The old English Whigs had fought against royal despotism, and the American Whigs were dedicated to fighting “King Andrew the 1^st.” They were too dispersed to hold a national meeting, so they simply nominated regional favorite sons: Daniel Webster (New England), Senator Hugh White (South) and General William Henry Harrison (West). Their hope was to divide the electoral vote, deny Van Buren the majority and have the election settled in the House as in 1824.

The strategy failed as Van Buren got almost 51 percent of the vote and was elected president. Richard Johnson had a tougher time. Twenty-three of the Virginia delegates refused to vote for him as “faithless electors” and he was one vote short of the 148 requirements. This time, the VP election was tossed to the Senate and for the only time in history, the Senate elected the vice president of the United States, 34 to 16.

Concurrently, word was received in Washington that Sam Houston had taken the president of Mexico as a prisoner, and Texas was applying for annexation as a state. Jackson was hesitant to accept a new state over the slavery issue. However, on the last day of his term of office, he recognized Texas independence – setting the stage for future annexation. Two days later, after handing over the reins of government to now-President Martin Van Buren, he left Washington by train to return to his beloved Hermitage.

There were no winners or losers in the War of 1812

Portraits of James and Dolley Madison by Lawrence Williams went to auction in October 2007.

By Jim O’Neal

The White House was burned to a shell. The previous evening, British soldiers had found the president’s house abandoned and they feasted on the dinner and wine left there untouched due to the hasty exit of Dolley Madison and the entire staff. The date was Aug. 24, 1814, and the War of 1812 came directly to the young country’s capital. There was little doubt about the enemy’s intentions. Public buildings would be destroyed in retribution for the burning of both the legislature and governor’s residence in York (now Toronto), the capital of Upper Canada.

Someone (other than the First Lady) had rescued the Gilbert Stuart painting of George Washington by trimming it from its heavy frame. Executive papers and personal effects, along with silverware, were hurriedly spirited away by carriage for safekeeping. A torrential rain had mercifully helped minimize the damage.

Three days after the British departed, the Madisons returned to the ruins. The torching of the president’s house had mortified the populace, and political enemies accused Madison of cowardice for fleeing days before the incident. Even the press piled on, asserting that Dolley could have saved more, or worse, that the president could have prevented the entire affair. There was malicious gossip that this might finally reduce the excessive social entertaining of the First Lady.

Fortuitously, refuse from the fire had fallen gracefully within the stone walls of the White House and virtually no debris was scattered on the surrounding grounds. The city superintendent commissioned an assessment of all public buildings and the consensus was the White House was damaged more than the Capitol or other executive buildings. Since the blackened shells were shameful symbols of defeat, a debate arose over whether the federal city should be rebuilt. New buildings in a different location could provide an opportunity for a fresh start.

Cincinnati was mentioned as a perfect candidate since it was more central to the country’s westward expansion; the Ohio River and new steamboat connections to St. Louis and New Orleans would facilitate commerce. It would also minimize the need to contend with crossing the mountains, and the re-centering rationale was similar to the arguments used to support the earlier move from Philadelphia to Virginia. Fate intervened just in time with news of victory and the Treaty of Ghent, which ended the War of 1812 between the United States and the United Kingdom.

Congress hastily ratified an appropriation of $500,000 to fund the restoration of all damaged buildings. Jubilant backers of the city implied promises of more money as needed, knowing that once construction was under way, Congress would have no other option than to continue with the restoration. The capital had been saved and that was all that was important.

A few months earlier in September, the formidable British Navy attacked Fort McHenry in Baltimore. The fort’s soldiers were able to withstand 25 hours of bombardment. The next day, they hoisted an enormous American flag, which provided the inspiration of a poem by Francis Scott Key – The Star-Spangled Banner, which became an instant hit and in 1931 became the national anthem of the United States. British forces withdrew from Chesapeake Bay and organized their forces for a campaign against New Orleans. This strategic location would provide access to the Mississippi River and the entire western part of the United States. They still hadn’t abandoned their ambition of establishing a British North America.

Colonel Andrew Jackson was 45 years old when the War of 1812 started – semiretired on his 640-acre plantation the Hermitage – and still with a burning ambition to get involved. His prayers were answered with the assignment to assume command of New Orleans. His ragtag group of free blacks, pirates (including Jean Lafitte) and loyal Tennessee Volunteers cleverly defeated the British. General Jackson was awarded the Congressional Gold Medal and would become a two-term president in 1828.

In a slight twist, the victory at New Orleans occurred a few weeks after the British had already signed the Treaty of Ghent. However, Jackson’s role in the war was absolutely critical to the future expansion of the country. Not only did he spare an almost certain loss of territory in the Southwest, but he also cleared the air over the status of the Gulf Coast. Great Britain did not recognize any American claims about lands included in the Louisiana Purchase. They disputed – correctly – the legality of the treaty. France had no legal right to sell it to the United States since the 1800 Treaty of San Ildefonso between Spain and France specifically stated that France would not sell without offering to return it to Spain. This meant that none of the lower Mississippi or any of the Gulf Coast belonged to the United States.

Their claims were blithely ignored and the Treaty of Ghent was silent on the entire issue. It has been said that there were no winners or losers in the little War of 1812 … except for American Indians. The United States signed 15 different treaties guaranteeing their lands and then proceeded to break every one of them.

Here’s why DeWitt Clinton had real nerve, visionary leadership

This DeWitt Clinton memorial pewter rim went to auction in February 2018.

By Jim O’Neal

If you’re not weary yet of presidential politics, hold on. Bill and Hil Clinton are on a 13-city speaking tour using a conversational format followed by a Q&A session. They are most likely eyeing 2020 as yet another chance to move into a big white house in the 1600 block of Pennsylvania Avenue in Washington, D.C. The current occupants do not seem to have a good chance of making it two more years, but next in line is a family named Pence.

The name “Clinton” was also prominent in Washington, D.C., and NYC during the 18^th and 19th centuries, and perhaps even more pervasively. George Clinton (1739-1812) is generally considered a Founding Father as he participated in the French and Indian War and was a brigadier general in the Continental Army. He was also a delegate to the Continental Congress in 1776, but opposed adoption of the U.S. Constitution. Like Samuel Adams, he finally relented when the Bill of Rights was added.

He then turned to politics and in 1777 was elected (concurrently) to become lieutenant governor and governor of New York. In the second presidential election in 1792, he came in third behind George Washington and John Adams, but ahead of Thomas Jefferson and Aaron Burr. Clinton served four more years as governor of New York and held the record for longest-serving governor (21 years) until it was broken in December 2015 by Terry Branstad of Iowa. Branstad is now the U.S. Ambassador to China.

George Clinton then served as vice president for Thomas Jefferson in his second term (1805-1809) after Jefferson dropped Aaron Burr (presumably because he killed Alexander Hamilton in a duel in 1804). Clinton then served as vice president for James Madison until Clinton’s death in 1812. This was the first time the office of vice president was vacant and also the first time a VP served for two different presidents. Later, John C. Calhoun would serve as vice president for two different presidents (John Quincy Adams and Andrew Jackson) as he unsuccessfully tried to position himself for the top spot.

However, we are more interested in George Clinton’s nephew, DeWitt Clinton (1769-1828), who challenged James Madison for the presidency in 1812. DeWitt was a U.S. Senator from New York, mayor of NYC, and the sixth governor of New York. It was during his time as governor that he made his mark on history.

At the time, the great American rivers on the Eastern seaboard – like the Hudson, Delaware and Connecticut – were woefully underutilized for transportation or commerce. The primary modes for river transportation were limited to the currents, wind, various animals or one’s own feet. And, of course, going upstream against the currents was difficult and essentially impractical. But there were exciting things going on in Europe that would help transform the United States.

James Watt’s coal-fired steam engines were powering the spinning machines that transformed cotton into high-grade cloth. The cost was so low that the material could be shipped all the way to India and still be cheaper than local hand looms. Since England was sitting on huge supplies of coal and the coalmines could use the abundance of labor, it was a near-perfect situation. The remarkable Industrial Revolution was in full swing, transforming a nation of shopkeepers into a modern nation. The same near-perfect balance occurred in steel production following Henry Bessemer’s technique that obsoleted iron.

Attaching a steam engine to a boat was the next big thing and America’s ingenuity took over. By 1807, an American who had spent most of his life in England and France decided to return to America and tackle this obvious opportunity. Robert Fulton’s boat, the North River Steamboat, was 133 feet long with a tonnage of 160. It literally dwarfed all other experimental steamboats and was ready for a trial run to Albany.

Most skeptics believed Fulton would not be able to ever move 1 mile per hour or be of any utility. With smoke plumes marking its progress, the North River headed north on the Hudson. It arrived in Albany in 32 hours, averaging nearly 5 mph … upstream. On the return, it was back in a mere 30 hours. Vindicated, Fulton predicted it would soon be providing quick and cheap conveyance on the Mississippi, Missouri and others. He was right, as the Mississippi, Ohio and every other major river would soon have steamboats churning up and down their waters.

Even as steam had conquered America’s rivers, other geographic features limited commerce. Mountains were near impossible, and flat lands required the considerable exertion of horses, oxen and people. Land-based commerce – which was rapidly becoming the major activity – was both limited and expensive. One solution was canals and that’s where Governor DeWitt Clinton re-enters the picture. He personally championed the Erie Canal when others (including Thomas Jefferson) thought the idea was “little short of madness.”

Thanks to Clinton’s unwavering efforts to overcome all objections, on July 4, 1817, construction began on a 363-mile canal that was dug all the way from Lake Erie to Albany, N.Y. … blasting its way through mountains with powder from E.I. Du Pont de Nemours; the powder was DuPont’s only product for the company’s first 60 years of its existence. It took eight years and a budget of $6 million, raised from bonds from the public rather than squabbling with state bean counters. It was a lot of money; for perspective, the entire federal government budget for 1811 was $8 million. So hats off to a Clinton with real nerve, perspective and the kind of leadership vision that built this nation.

As an aside, today the federal government spends $8 million every 56 seconds. Maybe that’s why we have bridges that crumble, airports that lag third-world countries and we owe someone $22 trillion.

Betty Ford set a standard that all who follow should study

A portrait of Betty Ford by Lawrence Williams went to auction in 2007.

By Jim O’Neal

Every presidential trivia fan knows that Eleanor Roosevelt’s birth name was Eleanor Roosevelt. She had married her father’s fifth cousin, Franklin. Although the couple had six children, Eleanor said she disliked intimacy with him and wrote she was ill-equipped to be a mother since she didn’t understand or even like small children.

They somehow managed to stay married for 40 years until FDR died in 1945. Franklin did enjoy intimate relations, especially with Lucy Mercer, Eleanor’s social secretary. He wanted a divorce, but his mother (who controlled the family money) would not allow it. This even after a trove of love letters between Franklin and Lucy exposed their elicit relationship.

Eleanor skillfully leveraged her position as First Lady; many consider her the first First Lady since she personally championed so many women’s rights issues. She had an active public life and a serious relationship with reporter Lorena Hickok. Eleanor became well known during her long occupancy in the White House and was highly respected all over the world.

That was not true (initially) of Betty Ford, who became First Lady when Jerry Ford became president after Richard Nixon resigned in 1974. She was born Betty Bloomer and she had divorced after a failed five-year marriage to William Warren, an alcoholic she nursed during his final two years.

She was a dancer before she married the man whose name was Leslie Lynch King Jr. when he was born in 1913 (he changed his name in 1935). As a member of the renowned Martha Graham dance troupe, Ford had performed at Carnegie Hall and later earned the prestigious Presidential Medal of Freedom. It was presented by the recently deceased President George H.W. Bush in 1991.

Betty Ford (1918-2011) had been impressed by Eleanor Roosevelt since childhood. “She eventually became my role model because I admired her so. I loved her Independence … a woman finally speaking out for herself rather than saying what would be politically helpful to her husband. That seemed healthy to me.” Others were quick to note the similarities between the two women. Major publications compared the willingness of both to offer bold, personal opinions on highly controversial issues. I would argue that Betty Ford set a higher standard for candor than any of her predecessors.

One small example is the very first press conference in the State Dining Room. Ford seemed to have no reservations about repeating her strong positions as a supporter of the Equal Rights Amendment and her pro-choice stance on abortion. She admitted she had consulted a psychiatrist, had been divorced, and used tranquilizers for physical pain. Any single one of these uttered today would instantly be “Breaking News” on the cable news channels so starved for fresh material (or innuendo).

Initially, Ford didn’t consider her Ladyship as a “meaningful position,” but rather than letting the role define her, she decided to change it. “I wanted to be a good First Lady … but didn’t feel compelled to emulate my predecessors.” She simply decided to be Betty Bloomer Ford … “and [I] might as well have a good time doing it.” She succeeded on both accounts and the results were more than just surprising.

She talked about “demanding privilege” and “a great opportunity,” but also about the “salvation” that gave her a genuine career of her own … and on a national level she’d never experienced before. Her impact helped reshape her into a likeable leader with broad respect.

Her creative imagination rivaled Jackie’s. “This house has been a grave,” she said. “I want it to sing!” More women were seated at the president’s table, especially second-tier political women who needed a little boost. And they were round tables, which denoted equality. This was the instinct of a free, bohemian spirit, but not by contrivance. She had been a single woman who studied modern dance and introduced it to the ghettos of Grand Rapids, Mich. She spoke deliberately and was unafraid of listening to differing viewpoints.

There were the occasional curious remarks about her drug and alcohol use, but easily rationalized by her well-known physical pain from severe arthritis and pinched nerve courtesy of her dancing. Not even nosy reporters questioned or sought to investigate the degree of her medications. It wasn’t until after the Fords left the White House that the drinking resulted in a family intervention.

In true Betty Ford fashion, after the denial, anger and resentment subsided, a positive outcome resulted. The Betty Ford Center was founded in Rancho Mirage, Calif. The center, known as Camp Betty, has helped celebrities and others overcome substance abuse issues. It offers treatment without shame and, although not a cure or panacea, gives people control over their lives. The opioid crisis of today is using some of the experience gained from Camp Betty.

However, her most lasting and important contribution concerns breast cancer. During the mid-1970s, television didn’t even allow the word “breast” until a determined Betty Ford decided to go very public with her condition. She had accompanied a friend who was having an annual checkup and the doctor suggested she do the same. After several more doctors got involved, a biopsy confirmed she had breast cancer. The White House press office squabbled over releasing information about her condition, but Betty spotted another opportunity.

By the time she was back in the White House two weeks later, women across America were having breast examinations and mammograms. The ensuing media coverage of her honest revelations was credited with saving the lives of thousands of women who had discovered breast tumors. The East Wing was flooded with 60,000 cards, letters and telegrams, 10 percent from women who had mastectomies. The First Lady told the American Cancer Society, “I just cannot stress enough how necessary it is for women to take an active interest in their own health and body … too many women are so afraid … they endanger their lives.”

Ford was a modern day Abigail Adams, but Ford used a megaphone rather than letters, and in a practical way. Bravo to an under-appreciated First Lady, who set a standard that all who follow should study.