Project President
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This isn’t necessarily a bad thing. Electing presidents based on their governing philosophies makes government more politically responsive. After all, a war hero could turn out to be Generalissimo Francisco Franco. Safe and secure nations look first to leaders who campaign based on governing vision, not to leaders who campaign based on their ability to drill troops. In this sense, America has truly returned to her roots. After General Washington, America elected a string of philosophers: Adams, Jefferson, Madison, Monroe, Quincy Adams. Only the growing recognition that America faced military challenges within and without led to a string of military presidents.
Military service remains an asset. It demonstrates strength. It demonstrates willpower. For more than a century, however, it has not been the sole determinant of presidential qualification.
“SOME ACCOUNT OF SOME OF THE BLOODY DEEDS of General Jackson.” So proclaimed the headline of a widely distributed handbill during the presidential election of 1828. The handbill featured the silhouettes of six coffins, meant to represent six militiamen Andrew Jackson had executed during the Creek War of 1813. The handbill accused Jackson of killing the men essentially for sport; their terms of service had allegedly expired, and they simply wanted to go home.
The executed men were described in glowing terms. “Harris was a Baptist preacher, with a large family,” the handbill mourned. “Harris attempted to make some apology for his conduct, but while he spoke, he wept bitterly. The fear of death, the idea that he should never again behold his wife and little ones, and his son weeping near him, had taken such entire possession of his mind that it was impossible he should rally.” Another militiaman was named Lewis. “Many a soldier has wept over his grave,” stated the handbill. “He was a brave man and much beloved. He suffered twenty deaths.” The handbill also carried a lengthy poem eulogizing the fallen militiamen, as well as a caricature depicting Jackson stabbing one Samuel Jackson “in the streets of Nashville.”14
But Andrew Jackson was a genuine war hero. Dubbed “Old Hickory” for his toughness, Jackson commanded U.S. forces to victory during the Creek War. However, it was during the Battle of New Orleans that Jackson truly made a name for himself. That battle pitted British forces numbering eight thousand against an American force of only four thousand; the British were seeking control of the Mississippi River, a situation that could have doomed the United States to the ashbin of history.15 But Jackson led the American forces to victory, inflicting more than two thousand casualties while sustaining just thirteen deaths, thirty-nine wounded, and nineteen missing in action.16
Jackson described the battle’s end in magnificent detail. “I never had so grand and awful idea of the resurrection as on that day,” he wrote. “After the smoke of the battle had cleared off somewhat, I saw in the distance more than five hundred Britons emerging from the heaps of their dead comrades, all over the plain, rising up, and still more distinctly as the field became clearer, coming forward and surrendering as prisoners of war to our soldiers. They had fallen at our first fire upon them, without having received so much as a scratch, and lay prostrate, as if dead, until the close of the action.”17
The effect of the victory was electric. As Jackson biographer Robert Remini put it, “The Battle of New Orleans created the nation’s first authentic military hero.”18
Jackson would parlay that heroism into popular success in 1824 and 1828, and electoral success in 1828 and 1832. In an odd political maneuver, the Tennessee legislature adopted a resolution nominating Jackson for the presidency in 1824, heralding his status as “late major general in the armies of the United States . . . the soldier, the statesman, and the honest man; he deliberates, he decides, and he acts; he is calm in deliberation, cautious in decision, efficient in action . . . The welfare of a country may be safely intrusted [sic] to the hands of him who has experienced every privation, and encountered every danger, to promote its safety, its honor, and its glory . . .”19 His national nomination by popular acclaim in 1824 relied almost solely on his military exploits.
Jackson’s military stardom had not dimmed in 1828. Kathleen Hall Jamieson said, “Throughout the campaign of 1828, Jackson’s supporters painted him as ‘the Modern Cincinnatus,’ ‘The Farmer of Tennessee,’ ‘The Second Washington,’ and ‘The Hero of Two Wars.’ Portraits of Jackson in general’s uniform astride a horse were carried in processions alongside portraits of him in the clothing of a Tennessee farmer, hickory cane in hand.”20
Supporters of John Quincy Adams relied on a two-pronged approach against the general. First, they sought to label him a dolt—a military man with no known ability as a statesman. One of their political handbooks labeled Jackson “no jurist, no statesman, no politician,” explaining, “He is destitute of historical, political, or statistical knowledge; that he is unacquainted with the orthography, concord, and government of his language; you know that he is a man of no labor, no patience, no investigation; in short that his whole recommendation is animal fierceness and organic energy. He is wholly unqualified by education, habit and temper for the station of President.”21
These qualms were not entirely without merit. Jackson was ambiguous on his politics. One particular Jacksonian ambiguity drove political opponent Henry Clay to distraction. After Jackson announced in an 1828 speech that he was for a “judicious tariff,” Henry Clay sarcastically remarked, “Well, by - - -, I am in favor of an injudicious tariff!”22
But it wasn’t just Jackson’s ambiguity that frightened his political opponents. Senator Daniel Webster wrote before the 1824 election that he was “much alarmed at the prospect of seeing General Jackson President. He is one of the most unfit I know of for such a place. He has very little respect for laws or constitutions, and is, in fact, an able military chief. His passions are terrible.”23 Clay characterized Jackson as “ignorant, passionate, hypocritical, corrupt, and easily swayed by the basest men who surround him.”24
Jackson’s reputation for intellectual simplicity dogged him. One story had him accepting an honorary degree from Harvard University in 1833 (a ceremony boycotted by John Quincy Adams). After listening to a speech in Latin, Jackson rose to accept. His alleged speech sounds like a transcript from the Jesse Jackson Latin School for Public Speaking: “Ipso facto. Tempus fugit. Sine qua non. E pluribus unum.”25 Literal translation: “By the nature of the deed. Time flies. An essential condition. Out of many, one.”
Of course, the strategy of attacking Jackson’s personal ability was bound to fail. For the record, no candidate has ever won a presidential election by calling his opponent a simpleton. Though Jackson was not well-educated, he was a successful politician and an able administrator. He had served in the House of Representatives, the Senate, and on the Tennessee Supreme Court. He had served as the military governor of Florida. He was also the greatest military hero since Washington.
So Adams supporters were forced to attack Jackson’s military record directly. They did this with gusto.Adams supporters distributed the coffin handbills far and wide; they had a “marked influence, especially in Ohio and Maryland, where they were the principal weapon of the Adams party. They were also widely circulated in western New York and in New Hampshire, and gave the Jacksonians in Kentucky a fright by the indignation they aroused there. In Philadelphia, where these handbills originated, an Adams parade was organized, in which the main feature was six black coffins for the militiamen.”26
Such attacks were ultimately unsuccessful, however. Though Adams retained the presidency in 1824, Jackson won the popular vote and went on to claim the presidency in 1828. Jackson was immensely effective, both as a candidate and as a president. His effectiveness testified to his strength of personality—strength of personality that benefited him in Washington, D.C., as much as it had on the battlefield.
A story told by President Lyndon Baines Johnson in 1964 sums up the public view of Jackson. “I have heard it said that on the day he died,” Johnson related, “the family pastor was talking with one of the President’s closest friend
s. ‘Do you think that the General will go to Heaven?’ the pastor asked. The old man thought a moment and replied, ‘Well, if he wants to go, who is going to stop him?’ ”27
LIKE JACKSON, 1840 WHIG presidential candidate William Henry Harrison ran on the strength of his military record. Unlike Jackson, Harrison’s military record was more like Washington circa Fort Necessity than Washington circa Yorktown. Harrison’s greatest military victory came at the 1811 Battle of Tippecanoe, against the inferior forces of Shawnee chief Tecumseh’s “prophet” brother, Tenskwatawa. Harrison’s forces were surrounded during the battle; he held the warriors at bay, but lost sixty-eight men. The Shawnee lost less than fifty. After the battle, the Shawnee abandoned their nearby base, Prophetstown, which Harrison torched.28 As 1840 campaign biographer Robert Gray Gunderson stated, the victory was “rather dubious” at best.29
But that didn’t stop Harrison supporters from turning Harrison into Julius Caesar. Harrison became “Old Tippecanoe.” The rallying cry of the Harrison campaign became “Tippecanoe and Tyler, Too!” Campaign songs praised Harrison’s victory at Tippecanoe; some of the songs included “Tippecanoe,” “Old Tippecanoe,” “The Soldier of Tippecanoe,” “The Flag of Tippecanoe,” “Tippecanoe and Jackets of Blue,” and “A Tip-Top Song about Tippecanoe.”30 Harrison’s supporters released a Tippecanoe Text Book, sold “Tippecanoe Shaving Soap or Log-Cabin Emollient,” and smoked “Tippecanoe Tobacco” while dancing the “Tippecanoe Quick Step.”31 They joined Tippecanoe clubs.32
All that was missing was a declaration by Harrison that he was William Henry Harrison and he was reporting for duty. If Harrison had been able to land a jet on an aircraft carrier, he would have done it.
Meanwhile, Democratic incumbent president Martin Van Buren fumed. His supporters futilely attempted the same tactics Quincy Adams supporters had. Senator William Allen said that Harrison “does not rank among the successful and victorious generals of the late War.”He also explained that Harrison, who was from Ohio, had been unpopular in Ohio during the war; Colonel George Croghan had been the popular fellow.
“While a sword was in preparation for the victorious Croghan,” stated Allen, “a petticoat was contemplated . . . [for] Harrison.”33 For the rest of the campaign, Harrison endured the nickname “the Petticoat General.”34 General Jackson bashed Harrison’s war record, averring that he “never admired Gen. Harrison as a military man or considered him as possessing the qualities which constitute the commander of an army.”35
Democrats also pointed out Whiggish hypocrisy: Whigs were quite anti-general when Jackson was president, but Harrison’s campaign had turned them into worshippers of the uniform. Henry Clay, a Harrison supporter, was suddenly a fan of military men turned presidential candidates; journalist Francis Blair rapped Clay for his inconsistency, sarcastically commenting that Clay was “as zealous for chieftains now, as he was against them a few years ago.”36
Once again, military service trumped political know-how. This time, however, military service did not presage presidential stature. Harrison died a month after he took office.
EIGHT YEARS LATER, the Whigs successfully ran another general for the presidency: Zachary Taylor. The Democratic Party had split down the middle over the slavery issue, with former president Martin Van Buren drawing away a substantial number of Democrats to the Free Soil Party. They were not sunk, however. The Democratic candidate, General Lewis Cass, had been Andrew Jackson’s secretary of war and had served valiantly in the War of 1812. And the Democrats could rightfully look with pride to the state of the country under James K. Polk. During the Polk Administration, America won the Mexican-American War, gaining “California, Nevada, Utah, most of Arizona and New Mexico, and parts of Colorado and Wyoming.” Polk also ended the still-brewing Anglo-American conflict over the northern border of the United States.37
But the Whigs had something the Democrats did not have in 1848: a recent genuine war hero in the form of Zachary Taylor. As Bob Dole wrote, “The Whigs were desperately seeking a military hero in order to recapture the White House. Practically any soldier would do; convictions mattered far less than battlefield heroics.”38 Taylor was not “any old soldier.” He was the victorious commander at Palo Alto, Resaca de la Palma, Monterrey, and Buena Vista. Taylor was not, however, a spectacular general. Taylor biographer K. Jack Bauer explained, “Taylor was a successful battlefield commander because he faced opponents whose tactical abilities and nerves were less than his and because his armies in early battles contained well-trained, self-confident subordinates.”39 Nonetheless he was a successful general, and a well-known general.
Taylor was also a political nonentity, an empty uniform. He had been a registered voter for forty years, but he had never voted. Taylor could not spell, “stuttered and squinted, lacked formal education, and was incapable of delivering a passable political speech.” He was physically unattractive, standing a heavyset five-feet-eight-inches, with short stubby legs.40
Horace Greeley described Taylor as “a good old soul, but don’t know himself from a side of sole leather in the way of statesmanship.” Horace Mann was less benevolent in his assessment: Taylor was “a most simpleminded old man. He has the least show or pretension about him of any man I ever saw; talks as artlessly as a child about affairs of state, and does not seem to pretend to a knowledge of anything of which he is ignorant. He is a remarkable man in some respects; and it is remarkable that such a man should be president of the United States.”41
“Old Rough and Ready,” remarkable in his absolute vacuum of political credentials, captured the public imagination. Campaign songs enthusiastically lauded Taylor:
Come fall in, boys, eyes right and steady
And raise the shout for Rough and Ready,
He licked Old Peg-leg with his
Pass And now he’ll use up Lewis Cass.
(Chorus)
Then go it, boys, strong and steady
And raise the shout for Rough and Ready.42
Another song championed Taylor’s candidacy by comparing him to George Washington, a doubtful comparison at best:
Old Zack Taylor is the man,
His countrymen select him,
To fill the chair of Washington;
And surely they’ll elect him.43
All in all, campaign stops must have been a rollicking good time.
Cartoons of the time invariably depict Taylor in uniform, despite the fact that he did not like wearing his uniform, preferring to dress in “old clothes and huge tatterdemalion straw hats.”44 One campaign print shows Taylor uniformed, surrounded by framed scenes from his four major battle victories.45 Even cartoons designed to target Taylor reinforced his military image. One such cartoon, utilizing tried-and-true “military man as wholesale murderer” imagery, has Taylor in full military regalia, sitting atop a mountain of human skulls. The title: “An Available Candidate. The One Qualification of a Whig President.”46
Taylor was available, and that was enough to lift him to victory in 1848. Taylor turned out to be a true nationalist, threatening the South with war if they made good on their threats to secede. Anyone “taken in rebellion against the Union, he would hang . . . with less reluctance than he had hanged deserters and spies in Mexico,” Taylor said.47 He never got the chance, dying two years into his term of office. His son, Richard, would end up fighting as a general during the Civil War—on the side of the Confederacy.48
THE 1852 ELECTION was the most martial election in American history. Both the Whigs and the Democrats ran major Mexican War heroes: General Winfield Scott for the Whigs, General Franklin Pierce for the Democrats. Scott, nicknamed “Old Fuss and Feathers” for his fancy wardrobe and high-falutin’ airs, had served with distinction during the Mexican War. Scott was the nineteenth-century equivalent of General Douglas MacArthur. He served heroically during the War of 1812; he served even more heroically during the Mexican War, capturing Mexico City. He would go on to design the North’s original Civil War strategy after his defeat in
1852—a strategy that was initially rejected in part, but adopted in whole over time, successfully, by Abraham Lincoln.
Franklin Pierce was far less of a hero than Scott during the course of his military career; he had been a brigadier general under Scott during the Mexican War. Pierce was an absolutely out-of left-field nominee for president. The Democratic Party splintered during the convention; Pierce was chosen as the nominee on the forty-ninth ballot. He represented a split party by acting the part of a split candidate. Though Pierce hailed from New Hampshire, deep in antislavery territory, Pierce endorsed the morally indefensible Fugitive Slave Act.
Because the Whigs and Democrats were both split over the issue of slavery, the campaign focused almost exclusively on the military service of each candidate. It was an incredibly nasty campaign. Pierce supporters dragged out an episode from forty-three years earlier: Scott had been court-martialed for bad-mouthing a superior officer, convicted of “unofficer-like conduct,” and sentenced to a year of suspension without pay.49
They also brought up an unfortunate spat with General Andrew Jackson. Scott bore no love for Jackson, whom Scott felt had grabbed all the War of 1812 glory for himself at the Battle of New Orleans. In 1817, Jackson bridled at a minor breach of military etiquette he received at the hands of Secretary of War George Graham. Jackson promptly upbraided Graham. Scott responded by castigating Jackson in public. When Jackson found out, he challenged Scott to a duel, calling Scott a “bully.” Scott backed down, explaining, “I should think it would be very easy to console yourself under this refusal, by the application of a few epithets, such as coward, etc., to the object of your resentment, and I here promise to leave you until the next war to persuade yourself of their truth.” Jackson was not placated by this high-handed response: he published the entire exchange.50 It made for great fodder thirty-five years later. In 1852, it must have occurred to Scott that he would have been better off shooting Jackson.