The Intelligent Collector Magazine | Blog – Page 3 – The Official Blog of Heritage Magazine for the Intelligent Collector

Two very different men somehow helped us through our first 50 years

In an 1817 letter, former President John Adams reflects upon his old literary acquaintances in London who “have departed to a World where I hope there are neither Politicks or Wars” and yearns to visit London but realizes he “must soon commence an Eternity in other Worlds as I hope and believe.” The letter sold for $20,315 at an April 2007 Heritage auction.

By Jim O’Neal

One of the better-known historical dates of synchronicity is July 4, 1826. The 50th anniversary of the signing of the Declaration of Independence and the deaths of presidents John Adams and Thomas Jefferson. The lives and careers of these two men were uniquely intertwined many years before the formation of the United States and during the first 20 years of formal governance.

As the 50th anniversary of American independence grew near, there were widespread requests across the nation for people to share their perspectives on the events that led to this revolution and their personal memories, wisdom and the outcome of their actions. Many believed this was more divine intervention than mere coincidence. A special committee was formed to organize an event in Washington, D.C., featuring Adams, Jefferson and Charles Carroll of Maryland … the only three of the original 56 signatories still alive.

Both Adams and Jefferson were physical relics by then and unable to travel. Jefferson, however, managed to pen a reply in one final spasm of eloquence that electrified the Washington event attendees. He borrowed heavily from a speech by Englishman Richard Rumbold, a Puritan soldier convicted of treason and spoken from the gallows in 1685. This practice of using historical rhetoric to bolster effect was not viewed as literary theft or plagiarism. If Adams was “the voice” of revolution, then clearly Jefferson was “the pen.” During his second terms as president, the only known speeches were at his two inaugurations.

The third man, Charles Carroll (1737-1832), also did not attend, but is more than deserving of high praise and admiration. A Maryland planter, he was the wealthiest man in America with a fortune estimated at 2,100,000 pounds sterling. He was the only Catholic of the 56 men who were brave enough to sign the explosive Declaration at risk of British retaliation. He then went a step further and supported Washington’s forces using his personal wealth. There is a valid theory that the inclusion of religion per se in the First Amendment of the Constitution is due to Carroll’s actions.

He was considered to have been the best-educated Founding Father, speaking five languages fluently after 17 years of Jesuit education in France and England, where he joined the bar. He was born in Annapolis, Md., and was the first U.S. senator from that state. Although he owned 1,000 slaves on his 10,000-acre manor, he was vocal in supporting the ending of the practice, calling it “the most evil practice in America.”

There is a dramatic story involving his signing of the Declaration as plain “Charles Carroll” since there were many others with the same name. Upon hearing the comment, he returned to the document and added “of Carrolltown” to be sure the British knew which man to hang. He would later found the Baltimore and Ohio Railroad (B&O), as well as build the Phoenix Shot Tower, which was the tallest building in the nation until the Washington Monument.

Adams and Jefferson started colliding in Washington, D.C., when the first presidential election was held in 1787. It was just assumed that George Washington would be the first president and he was elected unanimously with all 69 electoral votes. It made sense that someone from the North should be vice president and John Adams beat out 10 other contenders. However, few realized that he was humiliated when he only received 34 votes, less than half of Washington’s tally. President Washington started with a small cabinet: Thomas Jefferson (State), Alexander Hamilton (Treasury), Henry Knox (War), and Vice President Adams.

“The vice president of the United States,” stipulated Article 1, Section 3 of the Constitution, “shall be president of the Senate, but shall have no vote, unless they are equally divided.” This is why many have looked on the position as “the most inconsequential position ever devised by man.” Except John Adams hadn’t been at the Constitutional Convention when the discussion was held. So he initially thought he would be debating with senators over policy, but only voting if there was a tie. There are recorded instances where Adams had the floor for nearly an hour! Can you imagine Mike Pence arguing with Chuck Schumer and Mitch McConnel in Senate debates today?

To make the situation worse, President Washington didn’t want him in Cabinet meetings.

Historian David McCullough best describes John Adams as a “brilliant, fiercely independent, often irascible, always honest Yankee Patriot who spared nothing in his zeal for the American Revolution.” My guess is we all have impressions about Thomas Jefferson: a tall, shy thinker who loved wine, books and admired the French. We know about Monticello, his many slaves and his relationship with Sally Hemmings. These were two very different men who somehow helped us through the first 50 years.

Where do you think our future leaders will take us?

I hope they serve Doritos!

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].

Story of America a tale worth telling to those who want to radically change it

A book from the personal library of George Washington, signed and bearing his bookplate, sold for $101,575 at an April 2012 Heritage auction.

By Jim O’Neal

I have never been to Mount Vernon, but if you want to pay your respects to George Washington, that’s the place to go. On the other hand, if you want to see Washington’s Tomb – and many thousands do each year – it is two stories below the Rotunda of the U.S. Capitol Building in Washington, D.C. A man named William Thornton (a British-American architect) designed the Capitol with a place for George and Martha to be interred, along with an appropriate statue for our first president.

However, Washington directed in his will that his body should be placed in a simple tomb at Mount Vernon and, as usual, he got his way. He also stipulated that his slaves were to be set free (one may have escaped earlier). Martha had brought 84 slaves into their marriage from a previous marriage and upon her death they and their dependents reverted back to her first husband’s estate.

Congress would later disagree and pass several resolutions to have him interred in the capital. Martha finally agreed. But, it took too many years to finish the Capitol Crypt and the new owners of Mount Vernon refused to let Washington’s remains be disturbed. This tug-of-war went on for several years, primarily between the Northern politicians and Southern legislators who definitely demanded the South due to his southern heritage. With George Washington, it is easy to forget that the “Father of our Country” was only 43 years old when he took over the American forces in the Revolutionary War … matching JFK’s age as the youngest man ever elected president. Teddy Roosevelt was 42 when he assumed the presidency, but that was only after President McKinley was assassinated in 1901.

From another perspective, the highly respected Ben Franklin was 26 years old when Washington was born, literally another generation. Even Washington’s death on Dec. 14, 1799, was not primarily related to old age since he was only 67. The story is he had been riding horseback for several hours at Mount Vernon in the rain and sleet, went home to join dinner guests … did not change the wet clothes … and woke up at 2 a.m. with a sore throat and trouble breathing. Three doctors were called since pneumonia was suspected.

George was a staunch believer in the therapeutic benefits of bloodletting (as were most doctors for 2,000 years) and some versions assert that some blood was drained before doctors arrived and they ended up taking about 40 percent of his blood over the next 10-12 hours until he grew weak and died. The current speculation is that the cause was epiglottitis – an infection of the cartilage covering the windpipe that swells and blocks the flow of air into the lungs. One thing is certain: Bloodletting was directly involved in the cause of death, irrespective of the specific set of circumstances that contributed to his death.

To fully appreciate Washington, it helps to go back to the period before the Constitution and the eight years of his presidency.

By 1787, it was clear that the Articles of Confederation would benefit from updating. Each state governed themselves with elected representatives and these same representatives had to elect a national government that was weak without an independent executive and a Congress without taxing power. Any amendments required all 13 states to agree and even important legislation required approval of nine states. So a weak minority could easily thwart the will of the many. George Washington wryly observed, “We are left with a shadow without substance.”

So began the push to create a stronger national government.

The story of the Declaration of Independence from Great Britain – a seven-year war against the most powerful country in the world, under-manned, out-gunned farmers with pitchforks and rocks, the formation of the Articles of Confederation to bring together a disparate group of migrants, scrapping it all to form a Constitutional Congress, with the world’s first Constitution – is a tale worth telling to those who want to radically change it.

It’s an American story!

John Wilkes Booth’s heinous act took away more than a beloved president

A wanted poster for co-conspirators John Wilkes Booth, Mary Surratt, David Herold sold for $47,800 at a May 2011 Heritage auction.

By Jim O’Neal

At some point when John Wilkes Booth was planning to assassinate President Abraham Lincoln, he must have decided that it would be more impactful to decapitate the primary leadership of the North and expand the hit list to include Vice President Andrew Johnson, Secretary of State William Seward and, perhaps, even General Ulysses S. Grant. After all, they were in Washington, D.C., and unprotected. It was a desperate move, but it might bolster the morale of the South. In the end, it failed because of a series of unrelated circumstances.

General Grant had declined the invitation of the president to attend a theater show because there was an eagerness to return home and resume normal life. However, that would still leave Secretary Seward, who was at home recuperating from a serious carriage accident that required medical attention. Vice President Johnson had already booked a room that night in the Kirkwood Hotel. Both men would be relatively easy targets for Booth’s co-conspirators.

Lewis Powell, the man assigned to kill Seward, had a clever plan to act like a delivery boy bringing medicine, enter the house and shoot the bedridden Seward. He did manage to stab Seward in the throat, but a metal splint on his jaw deflected most of the blows. Powell ran from the house, was easily captured and later hanged. The other conspirator, George Atzerodt, managed to book a room at the Kirkwood Hotel, but started drinking at the hotel bar, lost his nerve and fled. He was also captured and hanged. That only left Lincoln, and Booth shot him in the theater as he watched “Our American Cousin” with Mary by his side.

The date was April 14, 1865. The location was Ford’s Theatre.

Lincoln had won the 1860 presidential election by defeating three opponents. One was Senator Stephen A. Douglas, a Democrat from Kentucky who had helped Lincoln gain national prominence through a series of high-profile debates regarding slavery. (Douglas, coincidentally, died just two months after Lincoln was inaugurated). A second Democratic opponent was John C. Breckinridge – the incumbent vice president for James Buchanan. The third – John Bell – was the Tennessee Senator who ran as the candidate for the Constitutional Union Party, a group that was neutral on slavery but adamant that the Constitution be upheld. Lincoln’s 180 electoral votes were more than the other three combined.

Now it was four years later and President Lincoln was struggling to barely hang on. In June 1864, the prospects for the Union Army were equally dim. General Grant was bogged down in Virginia, General William Tecumseh Sherman was stalled before Atlanta and heavy casualties were shocking people back home. There was even talk about suspending or postponing the election due to the national crisis. But, as President Lincoln pointed out, “We cannot have free government without elections. If this rebellion forces us to forego a national election, it will appear we’re conquered and ruin us.”

We all now know that the 1864 election did go ahead as planned. It was the first time any nation held a general election during a major domestic war.

However, President Lincoln took a pounding in the press. Horace Greeley, founder-editor of the New-York Tribune, claimed “Mr. Lincoln is already beaten!” The influential James Gordon Bennett, founder-publisher of the New York Herald, was more direct: “Lincoln is a joke!” Some wanted to run Treasury Secretary Salmon P. Chase and some were clamoring for General Grant. Even Thurlow Weed, Lincoln’s advisor, told him his re-election was hopeless.

Just when it seemed that Lincoln had reconciled himself to defeat, military actions started to slowly improve. Admiral David Farragut (who was the first rear admiral, first vice admiral and first full admiral in the U.S. Navy) won a great victory at the Battle of Mobile Bay (admonishing his men to “Damn the torpedoes, full speed ahead”). General Sherman took Atlanta and began his famous “March to the Sea,” which culminated in the burning of Charleston, S.C., where the war had begun. Meanwhile, General Philip Sheridan was routing Southern troops in the valleys of Virginia and then devastating the surrounding areas.

Virtually all of Lincoln’s critics were muffled by these turns of events.

Abraham Lincoln and Andrew Johnson won the 1864 election and the Civil War in 1865. But, the country’s troubles were not over. After Lincoln was assassinated, Vice President Johnson became president and was unable to work with the Republican Congress, which had devised a trap to impeach him. He was acquitted, but lost any hope for governing. He went home a chastened man.

In 1875, he did manage to get re-elected to the U.S. Senate … the only man to do so (up to 2020).

John Wilkes Booth did much more damage than just assassinating a president. By killing Lincoln, he eliminated possibly the only man who could have restored harmony, implemented reconstruction and unified us as our founding documents intended.

Nearly 160 years later, we are still waiting for another messiah.

Virginia’s soil was fertile ground for tobacco … and fresh ideas about freedom, governance

Sommer Islands coinage, or “Hogge Money,” was the first coinage produced for circulation in the English-speaking colonies of the New World. This (1615-1616) sixpence, Large Portholes Variety, sold for $99,875 at a January 2017 Heritage auction.

By Jim O’Neal

The Jamestown settlement in the Colony of Virginia is credited with being the first permanent English settlement in the Americas. The Colonists had sailed in a fleet of three ships: the Susan Constant, Discovery and Godspeed – under the command of Captain Christopher Newport (1561–1617) and arriving in 1607. They endured repeated failures and humiliations as a commercial entity.

King James (1566-1625) revoked the London Company’s charter in 1624 after a cumulative investment of 200,000 lb. sterling and over 100 additional shipments of supplies to keep them going. But it was a combination of an Indian massacre in 1622 and a seeming inability to develop a viable economy that prompted the king’s action. Their inability to protect the king’s people resulted in Virginia ceasing to be a commercial company and instead being governed as a mere Colony.

As early as the 15th century, European explorers had observed American Indians smoking tobacco, presumably for ceremonial or medicinal purposes. In the 16th century, ships returning to Spain brought back tobacco and it was soon adopted as a therapeutic cure-all throughout the entire Iberian Peninsula. Naturally, it spread to England after Sir Francis Drake (c.1540-1596) brought supplies of tobacco leaf and seeds for planting. By 1600, pipe smoking had become popular in upper-class London society.

Surprisingly, King James objected quite strenuously and published (perhaps) the very first treatise against tobacco in 1604: “A Counterblaste to Tobacco.” He questioned why honorable men would “imitate the barbarians and beastly manners of the wilde, godless and slavish Indians especially in so vile and stinking custome.” Much of the rest of the tirade/admonition, would fit very well with modern anti-smoking efforts still active in many parts of the world.

Refuting a view that tobacco was a magic cure for everything, he asked, “What greater absurdity can there be than to say that one cure shall exist for all divers and contrarious sorts of diseases?” He then went on to point to poisoning of the lungs and disruption in the function of organs. Finally, the treatise compared tobacco use with “a branch of the sin of drunkenness, which is the root of all sins!”

The Virginia Colony, by not being able to keep the king’s subjects safe from Indians and losing their charter, missed a chance to control the tobacco monopoly, which turned out to be America’s most valuable commodity in the 17th and 18th centuries.

When a young man named John Rolfe (1585-1622) planted seeds of a Spanish variety from the West Indies, “Never was a marriage of soil and seed more fruitful,” wrote Joseph Robert in his Story of Tobacco in America. Virginia soil along the James River (named for the anti-tobacco king) proved to be an enormous success. By the end of the 18th century, Virginia and Maryland were shipping 70 million tons of tobacco to England each year.

Rolfe, of course, would go on to marry Pocahontas (c.1596- 1617), the daughter of the influential Indian Chief Powhatan, in April 1614. She had been a captive of the Colonists during hostilities in 1613, converted to Christianity and baptized as Rebecca. The Rolfes soon traveled to London, where Rebecca was introduced as a “civilized savage,” all in a failed attempt to gain more investment in Jamestown. When the Rolfes set sail back to Jamestown, Rebecca became ill and died. Pocahontas had become a semi-celebrity in England and numerous places are named for her.

The Colonial focus on tobacco presented a risk to the “tillage of corn,” which was essential to basic food supplies needed to feed the people. The governor decreed that every man must plant two acres of corn before planting any tobacco. Then another consequential event occurred in 1619. A Dutch man-of-war sold the Company “20 and odd” Black slaves – the first slaves in what would become the American Colonies.

From these modest beginnings, there was a major shift in labor from White indentured servants to African slaves in the labor-intensive activities for tobacco cultivation, harvesting and curing. By 1860, 350,000 were cultivating tobacco – an exploitive crop that exhausted the soil and required constant cleaning of new land. Throughout the Colonial period, production of tobacco was centered in the Northern port cities, but the surplus slave labor, supply of raw material and manufacturing shifted to the South. By 1765, Virginia and Maryland tobacco combined to represent 80 percent of American exports.

Leading up to the American Revolution, South Carolina exported more than all the Northern Colonies combined and became a majority slave Colony. Of a population of 125,000, about 75,000 were slaves. Virginia had more Blacks than New York had Whites. On the eve of liberty, the majority of American exports were produced by slave labor.

Predictably, as the concentration of wealth grew, the men who controlled tobacco controlled Virginia politics. One generation into the 18th century, Virginia’s most esteemed citizens comprised a landed aristocracy – but much like the modern oil state that usually fails to develop other economic capability. However, a significant exception is that Virginia’s soil was fertile ground for fresh, new ideas on freedom and governance. This relatively small area supplied an abundance of intellectual foundations and some obvious contradictions to the coming American experiment.

We are still learning.

Presidential elections routinely deliver twists of fate

This Martin Van Buren rectangular sulfide sold for $11,250 at a February 2015 Heritage auction.

By Jim O’Neal

The Republic of Texas became an independent sovereign state on March 3, 1836. The United States recognized the legitimacy of the republic, but declined to annex the territory until Dec. 29, 1845, when it also became the 28th state. However, after the 1860 election of Republican Abraham Lincoln, the state of Texas, with a population that was about 30 percent Blacks (predominantly slaves), seceded from the Union. In 1861, Texas joined the Confederate States of America.

The well-known slogan “Six Flags over Texas” refers to the nations that governed Texas: Spain, France, Mexico, the Republic of Texas, the United States and the Southern Confederacy. Some historians claim that the last battle of the Civil War was fought in Texas at the Battle of Palmito Ranch on May 12-13, 1865. This may be technically correct, but it was after General Robert E. Lee surrendered to General Ulysses S. Grant at Appomattox (April 9) and President Jefferson Finis Davis dissolved the Confederacy (May 9). They also point out that the battle was a Confederate victory, which seems irrelevant.

Today, Texas is the second-largest state by area (Alaska is No. 1) and second largest in population (No. 1 is California).

The annexation of Texas occurred during the time the United States was rapidly expanding into the geographic area that would become the “Lower 48,” but deeply divided over the slavery issue that would plague national politics. The two-party system was still in an embryonic stage and hybrid political affiliations would result in unusual national elections.

A prime example is Martin Van Buren, vice president for Andrew Jackson from 1833-37 and the eighth man to serve in that position. In the election of 1836, he became the eighth president of the United States and the first to have been born (1782) after the American Revolution.

The election of 1836 was unusual since the recently formed Whig party was still sufficiently disorganized to the point they couldn’t agree on a single candidate to oppose Van Buren. In a highly questionable gamble, they decided to run four strong regional candidates with the hope they could deny Van Buren the opportunity to win a majority of the electoral votes and force the election into the House of Representatives. Despite having to run against four strong regional candidates, Van Buren won a majority of the electoral votes after winning a majority of the popular votes in both the North and South.

However, in a twist of fate, Van Buren’s vice president running mate, Richard M. Johnson, fell one electoral vote short when 23 Unfaithful Electors from Virginia refused to vote for Johnson due to their objections over his biracial marriage. So, for the first and only time (up till now), the United States Senate was required to hold a special election for the vice president. Johnson finally prevailed and served his four years as vice president for President Martin Van Buren. One could hope that this was an unfortunate anomaly, but they would be wrong.

When the Democrats met in Baltimore four years later in 1840 for their nominating convention, the incumbent president, Martin Van Buren, was renominated as expected. But VP Johnson ran into another political issue: the Democratic Party now considered him to be dead weight that would drag down the entire ticket. Even ex-President Andrew Jackson agreed and suggested they drop Johnson and replace him with a younger man … James K. Polk – the Speaker of the House. After the normal wrangling, they were still unable to agree and Martin Van Buren ran without a vice president!

This is only one of two elections (until 2020) where a major party did not have a vice presidential candidate on Election Day. The other was in 1912, when Vice President James S. Sherman (Republican) died six days before the election. You will not be surprised to learn that Martin Van Buren did not win the election and was replaced by William Henry Harrison as president and John Tyler, a Senator from Virginia, as vice president. Tyler took his oath of office on March 4, 1841. However, 30 days later, he was president of the United States when Harrison became the first president to die in office. Tyler was only 51 years old and the youngest president till that time.

Now skip forward 20 years to see how this sage evolved:

“At 4:30 a.m. April 12, 1861, a 10-inch mortar from Fort Johnson, on James Island, South Carolina, fired the first shot of the Civil War. Upon that signal, Confederate batteries from Sullivan’s Island, across Charleston Harbor, joined in. These were soon followed by a battery located at Cummings Point, which dominated Fort Sumpter from a distance of only a mile. The Civil War had begun.”

Epilogue: The hot heads in South Carolina were delirious with joy! They would chase these Yankees back North and whup their behinds in the process. President Jefferson Davis called up 100,000 troops to end this quickly. The old veterans yawned and predicted these cotton states would not last 30 days. Bull Run would demonstrate just how powerful the North was as they crushed these Southern rebels.

Welcome to your new job and shiny new home, Mr. Lincoln.

Sir Walter Raleigh lived in an important time in England’s history

A 1937 Roanoke Half Dollar, a commemorative authorized to celebrate the 350th anniversary of the establishment of Sir Walter Raleigh’s North Carolina colony, sold for $43,200 at an August 2020 Heritage auction.

By Jim O’Neal

When I was (much) younger, we thought it was great fun to call a liquor store and ask: “Do you have Sir Walter Raleigh in a can?” If the clerk said yes, we’d shout, “Well, you better let him out! His wife is looking for him!”

This would be followed by raucous laughter and cheering at our clever mischief. What I’m sure we didn’t know was that Sir Walter Raleigh had been beheaded on Oct. 29, 1618, and the severed head given to his wife. She had it embalmed and kept it in a red bag for 29 years until she died.

In a perverse way, our childish phone call may have been technically correct – that his wife had been looking for “the rest of him,” but it was just a much earlier time. Even today, there still exists a controversy over whether the head and body have ever been reunited. Coincidentally, I’ve discovered that Sir Walter Raleigh tobacco is still available (online) in cans or pouches.

Walter Raleigh, born in 1552, lived in an important time in England’s history. As a flamboyant soldier, explorer and would-be colonizer, he owed much of his success to the favor of Queen Elizabeth I (1533-1603). She was the daughter of Anne Boleyn, Queen of England from 1553 to 1536 and the second of King Henry VIII’s six wives. Their marriage ended abruptly when Anne was charged with treason, imprisoned in the Tower of London and subsequently beheaded. This was the start of the English Reformation when the Church of England revoked the authority of the Pope and the Roman Catholic Church.

Queen Elizabeth fared far better than her mother and ruled for 45 years. She found the tall, handsome Raleigh of great interest and granted him a cornucopia of titles, estates and monopolies as well as the sole patent to place settlers in America. In addition, working on behalf of the Crown, he led privateering expeditions against the Spanish and played a role in the colonization of Ireland, setting in motion the formation of an English Empire.

He was rewarded with a large estate in Ireland and knighthood in 1585. Within a few years, he became captain of the Queen’s Guard. Sir Walter Raleigh was an early supporter of colonizing North America and invested in an expedition across the Atlantic. This was the first attempt to found a permanent English settlement in the New World. It ended up off the coast of modern North Carolina and was known as the Virginia settlement (in honor of Queen Elizabeth, the “Virgin Queen”). Some of the colonists returned to England, bringing potatoes and tobacco, two things generally unknown in Europe.

A second voyage was sent in 1590, only to find no trace of the colony, other than the word CROATOAN on a piece of wood. It would become known as the “Lost Colony of Roanoke Island.” Although historians claim that tobacco was present in Europe before Raleigh’s time, he is often credited with popularizing it in England, despite never making a single trip to America. His association with tobacco has been enshrined by the Beatles on their acclaimed White Album. John Lennon derided him in the song “I’m So Tired,” with the lyrics, “Although I’m so tired, I’ll have another cigarette, And curse Sir Walter Raleigh, He was such a stupid get.”

Sadly, by the time the Jamestown Colony was established in Virginia in 1607, Walter Raleigh would be a prisoner in the Tower of London. His jealous enemies in the Court falsely accused him of participation in a bizarre plot to kidnap King James. Regardless, he was charged with treason and condemned to die (in the usual fashion). However, he somehow convinced the king that he could lead an expedition to the famed El Dorado and make the king the wealthiest man on earth.

It turned out to be a fiasco. But Raleigh honorably returned to England, where the treason charge was reimposed and he was again condemned to death. On Oct. 29, 1618, Raleigh, now 66 years old, coolly stepped up to the scaffold and asked the executioner to test his blade to ensure it “had a good edge.” Smiling, he said, “This is sharp medicine, but is it a physician for all diseases?”

The following century, the French Revolution provided a better answer to the issue of paying the executioner a bribe to have a good, sharp edge and be sure it was done with one accurate stroke. They developed a mechanical beheading machine. On Oct. 10, 1789, physician Joseph-Ignace Guillotin proposed to the National Academy that decapitation be done with “a simple mechanism.” During the Reign of Terror (1793-94), 17,000 people – including King Louis XVI and Queen Marie Antoinette – had a chance to evaluate this improvement, but the results are generally from people observing rather than actual users of this technique. Dr. Guillotine was not one the participants.

Eventually, the American cowboy made further improvements whenever there was a rustler or back-shooter that needed a taste of frontier justice. All that was required was a rope and a tall tree. A sharp whack on the buttocks of a sturdy horse was usually sufficient. My favorite Western movie … Red River, with John Wayne and Montgomery Clift (1948) … ends on the issue of hanging. For trivia buffs, if you ever watched the Peter Bogdanovich movie The Last Picture Show, you know it was Red River!

Today’s business tycoons would be wise to not forget the past

A statement on Union Iron Mills stationary signed by Andrew Carnegie and dated Sept. 29, 1870, sold for $6,572 at an April 2013 auction.

By Jim O’Neal

It may come as no surprise to learn that virtually all the major cities in California were incorporated in the same year. 1850 was also the year California became the 31st state to join the United States. It is now the most populous state and supports a $3 trillion economy, which ranks No. 5 in the world … larger than Great Britain. However, you probably don’t know that, in terms of land area, the three largest cities are Los Angeles, San Diego and (surprisingly) California City.

This large chunk of land was formed in the boomlet following World War 2 with the intent of rivalling Los Angeles. Southern California was flourishing due to temperate weather, Pacific Ocean beaches and nearby mountains. It seemed logical that with a large influx of people, all that was lacking were lots of affordable housing, automobiles, streets, freeways and plenty of water to drink and as irrigation for the orange groves.

An ambitious land developer spotted this unique opportunity and bought 82,000 acres of prime California City land just north of the SoCal basin. He commissioned a high-power, architectural master-plan community with detailed maps of blocks, lots and streets. Next was hiring a small army of 1,300 salesmen to promote land sales to individuals, while building a 26-acre artificial lake, two golf courses and a four-story Holiday Inn.

This was land speculation on a grand scale; they sold 50,000 lots for $100 million before the market dried up. Some reports claim that only 175 new homes were actually built. The fundamental reason was that Southern California land development primarily evolved south along the coastline toward San Diego and the prime ocean-front property in Malibu, Long Beach and Orange County. Although the scheme failed, California City was finally incorporated in 1965. Today, the 15,000 inhabitants, many from Edwards Air Force base, are sprinkled liberally over 204 square miles.

A prominent No. 4 on the list is San Jose, which narrowly escaped being destroyed in a 1906 earthquake that nearly leveled nearby San Francisco. When we lived there (1968-71), it was a small, idyllic oasis with plum trees growing in undeveloped lots in the shadow of the Santa Cruz Mountains. There were nice beaches an hour away and for $14.15, PSA would fly you 400 miles to LAX in 45 minutes. In addition to the short drive to San Francisco with all its wonders, Lake Tahoe offered gambling, except when it snowed on the Sierra Nevada, a mere 200 miles away.

Nobody dreamed that the miracle of Silicon Valley was on the horizon and the enormous impact of the Internet would result in the boom-bust of the dot.com era in the late 1990s. The stock market was up 400% and then down 80%, wiping out most of the gains. However, post 2002, and the proliferation of the personal computer, there was another technology revolution that would create more wealth than anyplace in the history of the world.

Apple, Google, Facebook, eBay, Intel, Cisco and Instagram are at the core of a technological society that has revolutionized our economy and communications, our lives and, by extension, the world. Smart phones, search engines and social-media giants – plus a community of 2,000 tech firms and venture capitalists – have generated enormous fortunes. Electric vehicles have morphed into driverless cars and trucks that will result in more creative destruction. AI and robotics will obsolete large swaths of production and elevate privacy and anti-trust concerns that will rival early 20th century government action to break up trusts.

Consider when Andrew Carnegie sold his Carnegie Steel Company to J.P. Morgan in 1901 for an astounding $303 million. He became the richest man in America, surpassing even John D. Rockefeller for several years. JPM then merged it with two other steel companies to form the first billion-dollar U.S. company, U.S. Steel. While Rockefeller continued to expand his oil monopoly, Carnegie devoted the last 18 years of his life to large-scale philanthropy. He literally lived by his credo: “The man who dies rich dies disgraced.” President Teddy Roosevelt would lead the trust-busting that became necessary.

Tim Cook, Mark Zuckerberg, the Google gang and Jeff Bezos would be wise to heed George Santayana’s aphorism: “Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.” Especially when social media becomes more addictive than crack cocaine.

Are we capable of dealing with the daunting tasks that face us? Of course we are!

A 1776 broadside printing of the Declaration of Independence, written by Thomas Jefferson, sold for $514,000 at an April 2016 Heritage auction.

By Jim O’Neal

Two U.S. presidents have been elected by the House of Representatives. John Quincy Adams became the sixth president (1825) when his chief opponent, Andrew Jackson, failed to win a majority of the electoral votes in the 1824 election. The House held a special election to decide the winner. Supposedly, a “corrupt bargain” between Adams and House Speaker Henry Clay vaulted Clay into the Secretary of State position.

John C. Calhoun easily won the vice-presidential vote and he served four years under JQA. When Jackson bounced back and won in 1828, Calhoun continued as vice president for three more years. Then he resigned and made a run for the nomination in a new party: the Nullifiers … the second third party to form (the Anti-Masons were the first third party).

Earlier, in 1801, Thomas Jefferson had been elected by the House after he tied with Aaron Burr in the general election. However, it took 36 votes in the House to break the tie. Alexander Hamilton finally persuaded the electors from New York to vote for Jefferson since he was “the lesser of two evils.” Two years later, Burr exacted his revenge by killing Hamilton in a duel.

Thomas Jefferson, author of the Declaration of Independence, was Adams’ vice president for four years and then served two terms as president. He had hoped that the young nation would expand across North America, becoming a great agrarian society. Instead, great cities evolved out of necessity to accommodate the millions of immigrants fleeing to the new republic with its fabled “streets paved with gold.” In 1800, Jefferson famously wrote: “When great evils happen, I am in the habit of looking out for what good may arise from them as consolations to us. … The yellow fever will discourage the growth of great cities in our nation; and I view great cities as pestilential to the morals, the health and the liberties of man.” In Jefferson’s time, the epidemics that repeatedly swept through large cities were especially lethal.

One poignant example occurred in the summer of 1793 when a massive epidemic of yellow fever hit Philadelphia, the largest city in America and temporary capital of the United States. It was caused by the mosquitoes that flourished in the muddy swamps in the area. Yellow fever is an acute, infectious viral disease transmitted by the bite of an infected female.

This episode was responsible for 5,000 deaths, or 10% of the population. An even bigger disaster was averted when President George Washington moved the federal government and nearly 40% of the inhabitants followed. Another mitigating factor helped when a savvy group of doctors imposed a quarantine on all ships and refugees from Philadelphia. Special guards were posted to the wharfs to ensure compliance and citizens were warned not to let any strangers into their homes.

When yellow fever returned to NYC in 1795, they were better prepared with a health department. But in 1798, yellow fever killed 2,086 people (one in 30), or the equivalent of 289,000 in today’s terms. The battle continued during the entire 19th century with major outbreaks in Baltimore, Boston, New Orleans and other southern cities. Eventually, a vaccine was developed.

Thomas Jefferson was eager to obtain what would become part of the Louisiana Purchase when Spain ceded much of North America to France. He dispatched James Monroe and Robert Livingston to France with an offer to buy 40,000 square miles for $10 million. The offer was refused, but Napoleon subsequently made an astonishing counteroffer … 827,987 square miles for $15 million! The offer was quickly accepted since it provided significant benefits. First, safety for shipping on the Mississippi River … a doubling of the size of the entire United States and, mostly, acquisition of the largest, most fertile track of land on Earth. It was enough land to entice migration from the East all the way to the Pacific Ocean. With this vast new area, there would be no need to congest into cities.

However, industrial America developed rapidly as a nation, but cities grew even faster. Masses of immigrants poured into America and a vast population shifted from the country to the city. Between 1860 and 1900, the rural population had doubled, but the number of city-dwellers quadrupled! The city became the supreme achievement of modern industry, the center of civilization. It spread out, built tall skyscrapers, mechanized factories and provided all the goods and services needed for workers.

On the other side of the ledger were the evils: ghettos for the poor, suburbs for the middle-class, exclusive neighborhoods for the wealthy, and ethnic neighborhoods for the immigrants. The city offered hope and opportunity, but it also brought despair. Overwhelming social problems, diseases, poverty, crime and strife between businesses and exploited workers. So we’re left with a few problems to solve:

Rising oceans, melting polar caps, tornadic storms, raging forest fires
Partially filled office buildings and empty, closed-down malls
AI and robots replacing undereducated workers
Rising rates of inequality
Systemic racism
More complex viral diseases as we get deeper into dark spooky places
Telemedicine in place of doctors
Remote learning

Are we capable of dealing with these daunting tasks? Just think about poor George Washington who had to flee when every tenth person was dying. Of course we are, but if we give up in despair, someone (probably China) will assume the leadership role and, in the process, set the world’s agenda. Leaders lead … others follow.

Stop whatever you’re doing, grab the soap and scrub your hands

A group of three framed autographs by famed medical scientists, including Jonas Salk, went to auction in January 2017.

By Jim O’Neal

Franklin Delano Roosevelt (1882-1945) was a handsome, virile young man – 39 years old – when he contracted what was diagnosed as poliomyelitis. Polio is an odd infection whose history traces back to the earliest humans and is generally transmitted by water contaminated with human feces. It primarily affects children under age 5, with only 1 in 200 infections leading to irreversible paralysis.

In FDR’s case, the paralysis overtook all of his extremities, but he eventually regained use of his upper limbs and relied on a wheelchair or crutches for mobility. We know that he had a spectacular political career, culminating in being elected president of the United States four separate times. He is frequently ranked among the top three presidents, along with George Washington and Abraham Lincoln. Political commentator George Will observed that some of that steel he relied on must have found its way into his soul and political will.

Some researchers now believe that FDR did not have poliomyelitis, but Guillain-Barré syndrome. If true, it seems to be particularly irrelevant since the treatment/cure was not discovered until this century, just a wee bit late, and it’s still in development.

Importantly, major polio epidemics were not common until the early 1900s, when Europe was plague-ridden. By 1910, frequent epidemics became regular events throughout the modern developed world. It peaked in the summer months and by 1950 was responsible for 500,000 deaths or paralysis every year.

To help fund research for a cure, in 1938 Roosevelt founded the National Foundation for Infantile Paralysis, soon to become the March of Dimes. Dr. Jonas Salk was picked to lead search for a cure. Would FDR have made such a dramatic effort if he had something other than polio? Perhaps not, but it’s probably not practical to rely on this ploy to get to priority funding since we’ve learned it’s harder to find good presidents than breakthrough medical cures.

During the war, Salk had pioneered a highly successful influenza vaccine and then taken a position at the University of Pittsburgh … in need of research funding. In danced the March of Dimes and Salk began working on a polio vaccine in 1948. Since polio is a viral disease, humans build up immunities to viruses after direct exposure. Development of mild strains can occur if a viable delivery system is also co-developed (a difficult task).

Salk’s work generated national attention since national panics were occurring every summer and swimming pools, movie theaters and other gathering places were routinely closed.

In the summer of 1952, he injected several dozen mentally handicapped children with an experimental version of his vaccine (try that today!). Also among the first people to be inoculated were his wife, their three children and Dr. Salk himself. Two years later (1954), the vaccine was ready for extensive field trials. In the interim, 100 million Americans had donated money to the March of Dimes (the 1950 census declared that the total U.S. population was only 150 million).

Next, a literal army of 20,000 public health workers, 64,000 school employees and 220,000 volunteers administered the vaccine to 1.8 million schoolchildren. On April 12, 1955, Salk’s polio vaccine was declared safe and effective. This announcement was broadcast nationally on television and around the world on radio. Polio was finally defeated in the United States. Dr. Salk was in a position to make an enormous amount of money. However, when asked in a television interview who owned the patent, he simply answered, “There is no patent. Could you patent the sun?

I realize it is difficult to feel an increased sense of optimism about COVID-19 by retelling the story of polio. But, one source of encouragement is to listen more carefully to what we’ve been told (ad nauseam) about the powerful defenses everyone has access to: simple soap and water! The coronavirus that has changed our lives perhaps forever is enveloped in fatty layers that are easily dissolved by detergents, which expose the core of the virus and cause it to perish.

So stop whatever you’re doing, get to the soap and water and scrub your hands (just like your mother told you before every meal). I do this frequently while I patiently wait for the miracle vaccine.

What do you have to lose?

Descent into vitriol began long before our lifetimes

A quarter-plate daguerreotype of President John Quincy Adams, taken at the Washington, D.C., studio of John Plumbe in 1846, sold for $31,250 at a December 2017 Heritage auction.

By Jim O’Neal

“The whole country is in a state of agitation upon the approaching presidential election such as was never before witnessed. … Not a week has passed within the last few months without a convocation of thousands of people to hear inflammatory harangues. Here is a revolution in the habits and manners of the people. Where will it end? These are party movements, and must in the natural progress of things become antagonistic … their manifest tendency is to civil war.”

If you guess this was 1964 when LBJ was set to defeat Barry Goldwater, you would be wrong. Or perhaps 1992 when Bill Clinton and Ross Perot were trying to unseat President George H.W. Bush? Sorry. You’re not even in the right century! We’re in a much earlier time, a time without 24/7 cable news and its insatiable appetite for divisive issues coupled with scores of political partisans eager to share their opinions. A time when you could not discern political bias by simply knowing the TV channel.

The year was 1840 when the Whigs were trying to oust President Martin Van Buren from the White House. It was a boisterous time and the speaker was ex-President John Quincy Adams (1767-1848). These words come from a concerned man, but then again, political speeches were more impassioned than we’ve ever heard in our lifetimes.

Eight years later, Congressman JQA, representing Massachusetts, rose in the House of Representatives to speak, but suddenly collapsed on his desk. He died two days later from the effects of a cerebral hemorrhage in the Speaker’s chambers. The public mourning that followed exceeded, by far, anything previously seen in America. Forgotten was his failed one-term presidency, routinely cold demeanor, cantankerous personality, and even the full extent of his remarkable public life.

For two days, the remains of our sixth president (and son of the second president) reposed in-state while an unprecedented line of thousands filed through the Capitol to view the bier. On Saturday, Feb. 25, funeral services began in the House. After all the speeches, and after a choir had sung, the body was escorted by a parade of public officials, military units and private citizens to the Congressional Cemetery. After the coffin remained in a temporary vault for several days, 30 members of Congress, one from each state, were ready to accompany it on the 500-mile railway journey to Boston. The train, with a black-draped special car, traveled for five days through a cloud of universal grief. The caravan stopped often to permit local ceremonies and citizens to stand in silent tribute.

Boston greeted his remains by exhibiting the insignia of mourning virtually everywhere. On March 12, every prominent politician in Massachusetts vied to join in escorting the casket to Quincy’s First Parish Church, where Pastor William Lunt delivered a moving sermon that ended with “Be thou faithful until death, and I will give thee a crown of life.” Later, Harvard President Edward Everett (of Gettysburg fame) eulogized JQA for two hours in the presence of the Massachusetts legislature, which had gathered in Faneuil Hall.

Only Abraham Lincoln’s death evoked a greater outpouring of national sorrow in the entire 19th century in America.

Eventually, JQA’s coffin was installed in a monumental enclosure with his mother Abigail to his right and his wife Louisa to his left. With the inclusion of his father, John Adams, it has become a national shrine; unique in America’s history since it marks the graves of two presidents of the United States and two First Ladies.

And what of the man who had been secretary of state and vice president for Andrew Jackson and was now trying to win another term as president? Martin Van Buren (1782-1862), the “Wizard of Kinderhook,” was surprisingly short at 5-6, and had been elected in 1836 when Jackson decided against a third term and threw his support to Van Buren.

The opposing Whigs were too divided to hold a national convention in 1836 since they couldn’t agree on a single candidate. Instead, they adopted a clever plan to support regional favorite sons with the hope they could deny Van Buren an electoral victory, force the election into the House of Representatives (as in 1824) and then unite behind a single Whig candidate to secede Jackson. The anti-Van Buren press was vitriolic and the New York American called him “illiterate, sycophant and politically corrupt.”

Van Buren remained implacable and on election day racked up 764,195 votes (50.9 percent) and his three Whig opponents were left to carve up the remainder. New York power broker and publisher Thurlow Weed summed it up succinctly: “We are to be cursed with Van Buren for president.”

However, on May 10, 1837 – only two months after the new president took office – prominent banks in New York started refusing to convert paper money into gold or silver. Other financial institutions, also running low on hard currency, followed suit. The financial crisis became the Panic of 1837. This was followed by a five-year depression that forced bank closures, economic malaise and record unemployment. Now flash forward to 1840, when Van Buren easily won re-nomination at the Democratic National Convention despite the economic woes. But the government was also mired down with major divisive issues: slavery, westward expansion, tension with Great Britain. Van Buren had not recognized what James Carville would memorialize 150 years later: “It’s the economy stupid!”

Other financial panics would continue to plague the country periodically until 1913, when President Woodrow Wilson signed the Federal Reserve Act. These wizards can create money out of thin air by using an electronic switch that coverts ions into gizmos that people will buy with money that is guaranteed by the federal government.

What’s in your wallet?