Over the years the river began to erode the right side of the rampart nearest the levee, and before long it was gone. The architect and engineer Benjamin Latrobe, who had designed the U.S. Capitol, and whose son had fought in the battle, visited the site several years later and predicted that the whole line would be washed away by rains in the coming years, destroying “every vestige of a work which saved the city and the whole country . . . from conquest.”
For years visitors were beseeched by local slaves to buy souvenir bullets, grapeshot, and cannonballs that they had picked up from the fields. And as these things were becoming more scarce, the relentless press of agriculture was removing many traces of the event. The American forward redoubt near where Colonel Rennie had died; the British forward batteries and their redoubts; indeed, Jackson’s own line itself were all either obliterated or threatened to be, reverting back into sugarcane fields.
In 1839 a group of foresighted young New Orleans men proposed building a memorial on the battlefield, but they were unable to raise enough subscription money. The next year, however, was the twenty-fifth anniversary, and Jackson himself agreed to attend. This was only a few years before his death, and he was in ill health. If he had any impressions of the old rampart—known by then on battle maps as “Jackson’s Line”—he kept them to himself.
In 1851 the mayor of New Orleans organized a committee to build a memorial, and the next year the state legislature appropriated $5,000 for a monument and also funds to purchase the surrounding land on Chalmette’s plantation. It was decided that the monument would be an Egyptian obelisk 150 feet high, along the same lines as the Washington Monument, which was then under construction (but which would be more than 500 feet high).
The work was interrupted by the Civil War and thereafter, for thirty years, by a lack of funds, and the monument remained half finished and in dilapidated condition, an embarrassment to both the city and the state. City officials tried to cede it to the federal government, but Washington did not want it, and nobody seemed to know what to do next. Then some women got into the act.
A group of Louisiana ladies known as the United States Daughters of 1812 petitioned the governor of the state to do something—and he did. In 1894 he gave the monument to them, along with $2,000, and told them to get it finished if they could. Using funds from private donations and “with the meager revenue derived from the sale of pecans, wood and the rental of pastures [the society] built a keepers lodge, repaired old fences, cleared and drained the grounds, replaced twenty-one iron steps inside and placed a temporary top until such time as it could be completed.”
Then they appealed to Congress for money, and waited, patiently, which was a good thing since it was a long wait—fourteen years, to be exact—but finally Congress appropriated the money and the Chalmette Monument was finished, seventy years after it was begun; it remains there today. People unacquainted with the area often mistake it for a lighthouse.
One thing is certain: if Tecumseh had never come to Alabama, and if William Weatherford had not been inspired by him to go on the warpath, and if Andrew Jackson had not led his militia to victory in the Creek Indian War, then Jackson would never have been commissioned a major general in the United States Army and ordered to take charge of the defense of New Orleans.
Instead, some hidebound bumbler such as General Wilkinson likely would have been put in command merely because he held the rank, and the outcome probably would have been quite different.
In the overarching vault of military history, it almost seems as if nobody other than Jackson could have pulled it off. In a matter of a few weeks he cobbled together the most unlikely of armies—90 percent of them untrained—and by sheer dint of will he inspired these disparate men to cling to their rude dirt rampart like bats to a cliff and hold it in the face of a professional British army that had never tasted defeat.
Jean Laffite, like Andrew Jackson, had grown up on the edges of civilization, where life had taught him some harsh lessons. Also like Jackson, he was a natural leader of men and could be a killer when necessary. Confidence in imaginary possibilities was an enduring part of Laffite’s thinking, but the British bribe of cash and commissions had adjusted his sense of reality, presenting him with a decision of brutal simplicity: either to warn the Americans, who wanted to arrest him, or to join with the British and take their bribe. He made his choice to become an American patriot.
Laffite was a complicated and mysterious man, as the writer J. Frank Dobie once suggested years ago when he wrote, “He must have been a puzzle even to himself.” But at the Battle of New Orleans Jean Laffite was there when it counted. Jackson appreciated it, and that was enough.
Early on in the war, when fortune began to turn against the United States, most Americans looked into a lowering future and were frightened and disturbed by what they saw. After the British invaded Washington and rendered it to ashes, those same Americans immersed themselves in an orgy of shame and despair beyond their wildest fears. The effect of Jackson’s victory can hardly be overstated. Even though the war had technically come to an end on Christmas Eve 1814, certainly nobody in the nation knew it then, and all indications are that if the British had prevailed at New Orleans, their alleged objective of booty and beauty would have been the least of America’s problems.
It would have been very difficult, perhaps impossible, to dislodge them. They would have been able, as Jackson had, to engage any advancing army on ground of their own choosing; and if their fleet, or most of it, with its hundreds of heavy guns, could be sailed upriver, it would have presented an almost impregnable obstacle. From New Orleans, the British would have controlled the Mississippi River, all the way to Canada, and, as Lord Castlereagh had said, thus turned America into a mere island, isolated from herself and from the world. Who knows what the skittish New Englanders would have done then? Broken with the Union, perhaps, and declared themselves some sort of British protectorate? At least in that event they could have gotten back to business. And what about the rest of the Americans, humiliated, beaten down in a ruined economy? Would their newfangled democracy have broken under the strain? The possibilities are endless and uneasy to contemplate.
Yet it did not happen that way. The action at New Orleans not only inspired a wave of joy and self-esteem, it served to put some backbone into the citizens of a strange and brave new world; it changed the very way they thought of themselves and how they came to behave in the international arena. Jackson’s victory at New Orleans—so total, so irrevocable, so unexpected—lifted them suddenly on a wave of patriotism and pride of nation, almost religious in fervor, that transcended even the great chasm of civil war and lasted well into the following century. It was called by historians then, and by many now, the “Second War of Independence,” because it forever settled the question of whether democracy could work, and it confirmed that the United States was a legitimate sovereign power.
By the twentieth century the United States was a nation of steam and steel, of rail and iron; of telephones, radio, skyscrapers, airplanes, and widespread prosperity on a previously unimaginable scale. Also by then, of course, the men who fought the war of 1812 at the Battle of New Orleans had become mere shadows in time, the stuff of history and legend, but they remain today a stitch—perhaps a seam or two—in the fabric of the American character, and when they died their dust enriched the national trust.
* 1 This was because of the fear among many white Southerners that freed slaves would instill discord and disharmony among their brethren still enslaved, and/or undercut the wages of lower-class whites who sought positions on plantations. In addition, various periodicals of the day warned about the “glut” of freed slaves and the burdens they would impose on society.
* 2 During the Revolutionary War, General George Washington had authorized the “Purple Heart” medal for those of his soldiers who had shown exceptional “military merit,” but this medal was discontinued after that war’s end and not reestablished until 1932 when General Douglas Mac
Arthur revived it for soldiers wounded in combat, including those in World War I. The first official medal authorized for the United States military was the Medal of Honor, bestowed by an act of Congress during the Civil War.
* 3 One of the most infamous of these being the 1804 confrontation between former U.S. treasury secretary Alexander Hamilton and Aaron Burr on the New Jersey Palisades, resulting in Hamilton being shot to death by the vice president of the United States.
* 4 These were known as the so-called civilized tribes for their gradual adoption of the white man’s ways—farming; raising cattle, hogs, and sheep; and keeping slaves. Many had taken to living in houses instead of teepees, and their women sometimes fraternized or intermarried with whites.
* 5 In fact, some fortification was begun on the Atlantic Coast, but the Gulf Coast was practically ignored.
* 6 Parole was a custom of the era whereby opposing armies swapped captured prisoners man for man on the theory that it was less expensive than having to guard, house, feed, and care for them. Parolees were required to take an oath not to fight again, but many did, especially officers. The practice largely fell into disuse following the Civil War.
* 7 Because of his age and his service during the Revolution, Hull had his sentence commuted by President Madison, and he was sent on his way in shame.
* 8 In addition to the Shawnee of Tecumseh’s tribe, the combined Indian force included Ottawas, Wyandots, Chippewas, Potawatomis, Kickapoos, Winnebagos, and Iroquois.
* 9 Procter was later convicted by court-martial for bad conduct during the battle.
* 10 The USS Constitution, Old Ironsides, is on permanent display in Boston Harbor as a popular tourist attraction of the U.S. Navy.
* 11 Ever since his notable service in the Tripolitan Wars (beginning in 1801) Decatur had become one of America’s best-known naval heroes. In 1820, at the age of forty-one, he was killed in a duel with one of his fellow officers. His home, the Decatur House—now a museum—stands on Lafayette Square in Washington, D.C., across the street from the White House.
* 12 Perry’s brother, Commodore Matthew C. Perry, was commander of the U.S. fleet that sailed into Tokyo Bay in 1853 and “opened” primitive Japan to Western trade, leading, inadvertently, to the subsequent modernization of Japan and her consequent militarism, which culminated in World War II.
* 13 The big frigates, which drew seventeen to eighteen feet of water, could not operate in the shallowness of the Great Lakes.
* 14 Harrison would be elected the ninth president of the United States in 1840, but he died after only one month in office.
* 15 These War of 1812 slogans—ranking with such memorable wartime mottoes as “Remember the Alamo”—were familiar to every American schoolchild until recently. Despite the current academic trend of deconstructing U.S. military history, many such slogans have survived through usage in popular culture and product advertisements, often relying on twists on the original verbiage; among the best known of these is Walt Kelly’s memorable takeoff on Perry’s “We have met the enemy and he is ours” in his comic strip Pogo: “We have met the enemy and he is us.”
* 16 Some say North Carolina; the boundary then was very close and subject to change with each new survey.
* 17 And technically, then, still a part of North Carolina—but that’s another story.
* 18 It was with a fellow lawyer in a dispute over legal fees. Neither man really wanted to kill the other, so, by a prearrangement reached by their seconds, when the command to fire was given, both men shot into the air, a perfect example of the silliness of dueling.
* 19 After having served for six years as the judge advocate general (lawyer) of that organization.
* 20 Versions of this encounter differ somewhat. For example, some writers give the time that Jackson waited for Governor Sevier as two days, others say a single day, some report it was the same afternoon, while still others say five days. I have chosen to use the account by James because it seems well researched, makes better sense, and is also the most lively.
* 21 Just what constituted a gentleman in those days is not easily defined, but there was obviously more to it than money, fine clothes, and nice table manners. Most people seemed to take an “I’ll know one when I see one” attitude. In any case, under the code duello duels were to be fought only between gentlemen; lesser figures, presumably without honor at stake to begin with, were expected to settle their differences by beating each other with canes or by knife- or fistfighting.
* 22 The Bentons later became for a time one of the most famous families in America. After the Nashville shoot-out, both Thomas and his brother Jesse left Nashville for St. Louis, Missouri, where they felt safe from Jackson and his friends. Thomas became one of the nation’s most powerful senators and was close to the Lincoln administration during the Civil War. His daughter Jessie (named for her uncle Jesse, of gunfight notoriety) married Colonel John Frémont, the “Pathfinder,” whose western explorations led him to fame and fortune and a shot at the White House. Jesse himself had a lesser career, but his Greek Revival home still stands in Nashville, a shrine, and was used during the Civil War battle in that city as a soldiers’ hospital; it was later bought and restored in the 1920s by a descendant of another of Jackson’s old enemies, onetime Tennessee governor John “Nolichucky Jack” Sevier. A grand-nephew, Thomas Hart Benton, was celebrated as an American artist and muralist of the naturalist-regionalist school beginning in the 1920s.
* 23 Every source for the Fort Mims massacre gives a different tally for the number of occupants, ranging from 250 to 600. I decided to use Frank Owsley’s The Struggle for the Gulf Borderlands (University Press of Florida, 1981), simply because it presents the most logical and well-researched account.
* 24 Now site of the Talladega Raceway of NASCAR fame.
* 25 Could he have been a brother or other relative of my great-great-great-grandfather Major Elijah Montgomery? It is possible. Both had biblical Christian names, both were regular army officers serving at the same time. But it cannot be known without further genealogical investigation of the Virginia Montgomery family. In any case, Lemuel Putnam Montgomery became the hero of the Battle of Horseshoe Bend, and two years later, in 1816, Montgomery County, Alabama, in which the state capitol is located, was named after him.
* 26 Sixteen years later, in 1830, as president of the United States, Jackson signed the Indian Removal Act, in which all Indians who had not fully assimilated into American society (and some who had) were removed west of the Mississippi.
* 27 The British first blamed this on conscripted French troops forced to fight under the Union Jack, then on Irishmen similarly situated, but the fact remains that British officers allowed it to happen.
* 28 Again, the number of enemy troops is disputed by historians. Some say 2,500, others 3,000. I stick with Dr. Hickey’s estimate because it seems most informed.
* 29 On one of the bombarding ships was a young American lawyer named Francis Scott Key, who had come aboard to negotiate the release of a civilian prisoner and been taken captive himself for the duration of the battle. There he witnessed the new Congreve rockets blasting away at the old brick fort all night. This inspired him to pen the lines to “The Star-Spangled Banner,” which he set to the tune of an old British drinking song. It became the nation’s official national anthem by an act of Congress in 1931.
* 30 Executions for desertion had gone from 3 in 1812 to 146 in 1814. As Donald Hickey points out, this posed a dilemma: “Executing those who were caught might serve as a deterrent to others . . . but this undermined the recruiting service.”
* 31 This might have altered a lot of history down the road, for if the vote had been taken for sesession, there was little the federal government—given its present crisis—could have done to prevent it. And what effect would such a crucial precedent have created forty-seven years later, when the Southern states voted to secede from the Union?
* 32 It was reported to Jackson by his spies that battalions of In
dians had been seen dressed in British red coats, marching up and down the streets of Pensacola, being drilled by British sergeants in the manual-of-arms.
* 33 After the war, Fort Bowyer was enlarged into a powerful fortification known as Fort Morgan. It was here in 1864, during the Battle of Mobile Bay, that Admiral David Farragut was said to have uttered his equally famous words: “Damn the torpedoes, full speed ahead!”
* 34 Widely varying accounts of Laffite’s life have resulted in sometimes harsh disputes, academic and otherwise. For a discussion of the author’s information and conclusions, see the Notes on Sources section at the end of this book.
* 35 Here is one of those vexing historical inconsistencies that crop up so frequently in this story. Many historians, including the authority Dr. Remini, state that Dominique was in fact the older brother of Jean and Pierre, but William C. Davis, the Laffites’ latest biographer, asserts otherwise, noting that in those days it was common for a man to call someone “brother” without such a relationship existing in fact.
* 36 The Spanish captain, Laffite tells us, was spared his life for the massacre of the Frenchmen, and instead “sequestered in a French colony at forced labor for life.”
* 37 The Haitian revolution has the distinction of being the only successful black slave rebellion in history.
* 38 Interestingly, another crop that seemed to thrive in Louisiana was citrus—in particular oranges—which contemporary writers describe as having been grown all over the region in groves of a thousand acres or more. This could not be done today because of frequent freezes.
* 39 The Laffite blacksmith shop stands today as a well-known landmark at St. Philip and Bourbon streets in the French Quarter, maintained by the city of New Orleans (that is, if you choose to ignore those who—as in so many areas of fact surrounding the Laffites—claim that the brothers were never in the blacksmithing business at all).
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