Review of Warren G. Harding by John W. Dean

“At the time of his death, no president was more popular and admired.” So writes author, columnist, political commentator, and former White House Counsel (serving Richard Nixon) John W. Dean about Warren G. Harding, the twenty-ninth president of the United States. Despite this contemporary adulation, Harding now is viewed by most historians as one of our worst chief executives. Dean believes Harding’s bad reputation is unfair, arguing that “few presidents have experienced the unrequited attacks and reprisals visited on one of the most kindly men to ever occupy the White House” (4). In Warren G. Harding, part of the “American Presidents” series of brief presidential biographies, Dean attempts to redeem Harding’s legacy. Dean, an admitted lifelong enthusiast of Harding and his presidency, lays out his plan early in the book: “My undertaking has not been to challenge or catalogue all those who have gotten it wrong about Harding, only to get it right” (4).  Dean argues that much of Harding’s negative reputation is based on distortions and outright lies, which Dean vows to expose.  The resulting work, not surprisingly, is part biography and part Harding apologetic.

Due to the space limitation of the series, Dean chooses to breeze through Harding’s early life and career and to focus primarily on the 1920 presidential campaign and Harding’s brief presidency. Dean shows that Harding, far from being a dullard as many have claimed, learned to read at four and proved to be an excellent student from the beginning of his school days. Dean also points out several other of Harding’s positive characteristics, including his humility, warmth, kindness, compassion for the downtrodden, and his ability to remember names and faces.  These traits, together with Harding’s work as a successful newspaper publisher, helped launch him first into the Ohio State Senate, then into the United States Senate, and ultimately, into the White House.

Dean constantly argues that Harding, contrary to conventional wisdom, was anything but a failed president.  For starters, his cabinet “was not a cabinet of a weak or inept president, and no president before or after Harding has done any better at cabinet making” (94).  Harding also had a highly positive relationship with the press, possibly the best of any president in American history.  Dean shows that as president, Harding made many positive contributions, including calling for a cabinet department responsible for public welfare, urging the passage of an anti-lynching law, freeing Americans jailed under the 1918 Sedition Act, sponsoring farm relief legislation, signing an emergency tariff bill, and creating the Bureau of the Budget, the predecessor of the Office of Management and Budget.  Dean gives Harding special praise for his work in the area of race relations, especially his 1921 speech in Birmingham, Alabama, which a leading civil rights activist of the time called the “most important utterance on the question by a president since Lincoln” (126).

Dean does not shy away from discussing Harding’s negatives; for example, he criticizes Harding for his 15-year-long affair with Carrie Phillips. Regarding Nan Britton, who claimed to have had an affair with Harding and to have given birth to his child, Dean expresses skepticism (Dean, writing in 2004, of course could not have known that eleven years later, DNA evidence would convincingly establish Britton’s claim).  Finally, Dean addresses the scandals of the Harding presidency (including the notorious “Teapot Dome” affair) in some depth, concluding that Harding had nothing to do with any of them other than making a few poor choices in his cabinet appointments.  As Dean points out, Harding was personally honest and had no involvement with any of the scandals that occurred on his “watch.”  Despite this, Harding has been assigned the lion’s share of the blame by many historians from the time of his death in 1923 to the present.

As a biographer, Dean succeeds admirably, providing an able and fast-moving overview of Harding’s life and career.  As a defender of Harding’s reputation, Dean also makes a good case that Harding deserves a better evaluation than he has traditionally received.  The thoughtful reader might wonder, however, if perhaps Dean is a little too one-sided in his treatment of the 29^th president.  After all, there must be at least a few legitimate and compelling reasons why Harding still appears near the bottom of historians’ rankings of presidents.  Could Dean have glossed over these?  It will be up to future biographers to address this.  

Review of Wilson by A. Scott Berg

In the not-too-distant past, historians generally agreed that Woodrow Wilson deserved to be ranked among the greatest of American presidents.  In the last two decades, however, Wilson’s stature has fallen due in large part to his poor record on civil rights and his violations of civil liberties during World War I.  In Wilson, Pulitzer Prize-winning biographer A. Scott Berg attempts to shore up Wilson’s legacy, stressing his progressive policies and his persistent efforts to bring peace to Europe after the outbreak of war. 

Berg presents Wilson as a hard-working reformer who accomplished much despite being plagued with headaches, terrible eyesight and intestinal problems (among other ailments) all his life.  During his academic career, Wilson sought to advance scholarship in history and political science.  As president of Princeton University, he attempted to change his beloved alma mater from a social club for sons of the rich into a modern university, an effort that largely failed due to entrenched opposition.  As governor of New Jersey and as President of the United States, Wilson pursued a progressive agenda, including women’s suffrage (even though he initially opposed the 19^th Amendment).  After nearly three years of keeping the U. S. out of World War I, Wilson finally decided to intervene so that the world might “be made safe for democracy.”  And as his final act of significance, Wilson poured his life into trying to persuade Americans to join the League of Nations, ultimately failing and irrevocably ruining his health in the process.

Despite his obvious adoration of his subject, Berg does not hesitate to highlight Wilson’s flaws or criticize him when he feels he did wrong. Berg shows that Wilson, despite being a genuinely decent human being, nevertheless possessed a monumental ego that often blinded him to reality.  Notable examples of Wilson’s actions that draw Berg’s criticism are his decision to segregate the capital, his abridgements of civil rights during World War I, and his treatment of influential socialist Eugene V. Debs. Berg is especially critical of Wilson for not transferring power to his vice president after his debilitating stroke that left him unable to fulfill his duties.  Berg also scolds Wilson’s wife Edith and his inner circle of advisers, who carried out “the greatest conspiracy that ever engulfed the White House” (644) and who

took the law of the land into their own hands, concluding what best served Woodrow Wilson also best served the country.  Their behavior tacitly acknowledged that this was a power grab, as they enshrouded the Presidency in as much secrecy as possible (644).

 Wilson is a very well-written, engaging, and comprehensive biography of our twenty-eighth president.  The work is made even better by a generous assortment of photos that help the reader put faces with the many persons included in the narrative. One especially creative aspect of the book is Berg’s decision to use Christian themes such as “Ascension”, “Baptism,” and “Resurrection for the chapter titles and to couple them with Scripture quotations that apply to the events described in the chapters.  This practice is not only original and effective; it is also highly appropriate given Wilson’s deep and lifelong Christian faith. At 746 pages of text, Wilson will prove a daunting challenge to many readers, but those who persevere will be greatly rewarded with an enriching portrait of Woodrow Wilson and the times in which he lived.

Review of The Bully Pulpit: Theodore Roosevelt, William Howard Taft, and the Golden Age of Journalism by Doris Kearns Goodwin

In The Bully Pulpit: Theodore Roosevelt, William Howard Taft, and the Golden Age of Journalism, historian Doris Kearns Goodwin narrates the stories of several of the major figures of the Progressive Era.  Goodwin focuses primarily on the lives and careers of presidents Theodore Roosevelt and William Howard Taft but also devotes a significant amount of space to journalist S. S. McClure and the “dream team” of muckraking journalists that he assembled, including such stellar talents as Ida Tarbell, Lincoln Steffens, Ray Baker, and William A. White. 

Goodwin presents generally sympathetic portraits of Roosevelt and Taft and compellingly shows how their strong personal friendship, which began long before either was a national figure, ultimately developed into a political alliance that dominated American politics for more than a decade and resulted in sweeping changes that unalterably impacted American history.  At the same time, Goodwin convincingly demonstrates that the progressive reforms brought about by Roosevelt and Taft might not have been possible had McClure and his staff not prepared the public mood through their powerful and persuasive writing.  The two presidents and the journalists worked in perfect synergy to bring about sweeping changes in a way that had seldom happened before.

Goodwin is at her best when she is narrating the relationship between Roosevelt and Taft, which, though warm for many years, tragically turned sour after Taft’s accession to the presidency.  In Goodwin’s telling of the story, the rift was primarily caused by Roosevelt’s monumental ego and his desire to control the presidency even when he did not hold the office.  Goodwin praises Roosevelt’s presidency as do most historians.  Regarding Taft, Goodwin agrees with most historians (and Taft himself!) that he was not well-suited for the job, but she also believes that he deserves more credit for his accomplishments as president.

The Bully Pulpit is in general a very engaging read; in fact, at times it is difficult to put down.  At other times, it tends to drag when perhaps too much detail is devoted to certain events (such as the firing of Gifford Pinchot and Taft’s battle over the tariff).  The book’s greatest weakness, however, is the cursory fashion in which Goodwin covers the lives of Taft and Roosevelt after 1913.  It would have been nice, for example, to have a whole chapter devoted to Taft’s career as Chief Justice of the United States.  To be fair, the book contains 750 pages, and it is doubtful that Goodwin or the publisher wanted it to go much longer.  But a little bit of condensing in the middle (perhaps less detail on the journalists?) and 30-40 more pages devoted to post-1913 events would have made this very good book even better.

Despite these minor issues, The Bully Pulpit is an excellent read and serves as a great introduction to Roosevelt, Taft, and the age in which they lived.  

Review of The President and the Assassin by Scott Miller

In The President and the Assassin, Scott Miller tells the tales of two Americans, one well-known and the other mostly forgotten, whose stories intersected in a moment that drastically altered American history.  Miller, a former journalist, narrates the lives and careers of President William McKinley and Leon Czolgosz, the man who ultimately assassinated him. Far from being a traditional biography, Miller’s work devotes very little space to McKinley’s early life and pre-presidential career.  Miller instead chooses to focus on McKinley’s presidency, while also relating the story of Czolgosz and the economic, social, and political forces that helped mold him into an anarchist and an assassin.

The President and the Assassin is written in an engaging, almost gripping style; at times, it is very difficult to put down.  The one significant flaw of the book is the time gap between the chapters on McKinley and those on Czolgosz; often one reads of McKinley’s actions in the 1890s in one chapter and then about events in the life of Czolgosz or other anarchists that occurred twenty years earlier. This constant going back and forth in time might prove confusing to a reader who knows little about Gilded Age America.  Despite this, the book is well worth reading.  Readers who seek an in-depth biography of McKinley will need to look elsewhere.  But for those seeking to learn about the major events of late nineteenth-century America, particularly the labor and anarchist movements, major strikes, and the Spanish-American War, Miller has presented an outstanding introduction.  

Review of Benjamin Harrison by Charles W. Calhoun

Among the small minority of Americans who can identify Benjamin Harrison, most tend to view him as the last of a long series of hirsute “do-nothing” Gilded Age American presidents.  In Benjamin Harrison, however, biographer and historian Charles W. Calhoun argues that Harrison does not at all fit this stereotype. Harrison, Calhoun writes, “governed energetically” and “was a legislative president far more than most other nineteenth-century chief executives” (3).  Calhoun further argues that if, as modern scholars often claim, William McKinley was the first modern president, “a careful review of Harrison’s performance demonstrates that McKinley and his successors owed much to the example set by Benjamin Harrison” (6).

After briefly outlining Harrison’s pre-presidential career, including distinguished service as an attorney, a Union officer during the Civil War, and a United States Senator, Calhoun begins his “careful review of Harrison’s performance” as president.  Unlike his more passive predecessors, Harrison had a planned program of legislation that he wanted enacted as quickly as possible. In fact, he was so eager to begin that he seriously considered calling the Congress into an early special session.  Because newly-elected Congresses at that time did not convene until several months after the president was inaugurated, Harrison’s domestic agenda had to wait.

In the meantime, Harrison was confronted with a dangerous dispute with Germany over the island of Samoa.  Harrison and his Secretary of State James Blaine negotiated a settlement which essentially created a three-nation (Britain, Germany, and the U. S.) protectorate over the island. This diplomatic victory was, in Calhoun’s words, “a momentous step,” for it marked the first time the United States “accepted responsibility for the government of a people beyond its own continent” (79).  Harrison made other significant contributions to the growth of American global power, including vastly expanding the U. S. Navy and championing a trans-isthmian canal across Nicaragua.

Harrison’s domestic agenda was bold.  He championed increased pensions to veterans, sought increased government regulation of big business, promoted a bill to protect black voting rights in the South, injected 50 million dollars into the economy to prevent a financial panic, set aside 13 million acres of federal land as forest reserves, and gave federal assistance to provide relief for a Pennsylvania flood (a new practice at the time).  Harrison also was the first president to attack lynchings.  Under Harrison’s prompting, Congress passed several key pieces of legislation, including the McKinley Tariff Act, the Sherman Silver Purchase Act, the Sherman Anti-Trust Act, and the Forest Reserve Act.  In all, the 51^st Congress passed 531 public laws, the most in history to that point, and an amount that would not be equaled until Theodore Roosevelt’s second term.

Although he is largely forgotten today, Harrison’s presidency was widely praised during his lifetime.  Henry Adams called him the greatest president since Lincoln.  Frederick Douglass went still further, writing that “To my mind, we never had a greater president.”  Despite this acclaim, Harrison served in a time of great political polarization and fickleness, and as a result, he was defeated after serving one term and returned to private life.

In Benjamin Harrison, Charles Calhoun has presented an engaging and surprisingly comprehensive (given the book’s brevity) account of Harrison’s life and, especially, his presidency.  He succeeds admirably in demonstrating that Harrison should receive more credit not only for being an effective chief executive, but also for setting a key precedent for future progressive presidents like Roosevelt, Taft, and Wilson.  Anyone wanting to learn more about this generally forgotten president would do well to begin their study with this outstanding introduction.

Review of Grover Cleveland by Henry F. Graff

Grover Cleveland, writes biographer Henry F. Graff, “lives in the national memory almost exclusively as the president who had two nonconsecutive terms of office.  He deserves a better fate, for he was once revered by millions of his contemporaries for genuine merits, especially integrity” (137).  In Grover Cleveland, part of the “American Presidents” series of brief presidential biographies, Graff attempts to paint a more favorable portrait of the man who is counted as both the 22^nd and 24^th U. S. president.

Graff demonstrates that all throughout his political career, Cleveland showed no penchant for shirking the unpleasant duties of his offices.  For example, as sheriff of Buffalo, New York, Cleveland was not above personally pulling the lever that sent prisoners on the gallows to their death.  He worked hard, so much so that in Graff’s words, “today he would be considered a workaholic” (37).  Most significantly, as sheriff and later mayor of Buffalo, and then as Governor of New York, Cleveland impressed members of all political parties by being “true to his commitment that integrity in public office was a worthy requirement of those entrusted with responsibility and authority” (39).  As governor, Cleveland railed against dishonest big businesses and also became one of the first state governors to set aside state lands (including the Adirondacks) for protection.

At the 1884 Democratic National Convention, Cleveland’s integrity made him a natural choice for Democrats seeking to end the Republicans’ long domination of the presidency.  Cleveland defeated Republican James Blaine, who, like many politicians of the time, carried the stain of rumored corruption.  As president, Cleveland earned a mixed record.  He refused to depart from the increasingly unpopular “Spoils System,” firing thousands of federal employees merely because they were Republicans and replacing them with Democrats.  He also vetoed hundreds of bills, mostly pensions for Union soldiers, often doing so with sarcastic language.  He seemed to be generally ignorant of public sentiment, often showing callousness and insensitivity in his words and actions. He was also largely passive, seeing the president’s job as merely to execute or veto Congressional laws rather than to initiate a legislative agenda.-On the other hand, Cleveland made a few positive contributions, such as signing into law the Interstate Commerce Act, which regulated railroad rates and created the Interstate Commerce Commission.

After losing the presidency to Benjamin Harrison in 1888 (due mostly to “a disjoined campaign and its lifeless leadership, including his own”), Cleveland was again elected in 1892.  During his second term, Cleveland pursued a largely pro-business policy, including (among other actions) sending in federal troops in to put down the 1894 Pullman Strike.  In foreign affairs, Cleveland followed the largely isolationist policies of his predecessors. He resisted the increasing pressure to intervene in the unrest in Hawaii and Cuba, although he did not shrink from boldly supporting Venezuela in its 1895 boundary dispute with Great Britain.

Grover Cleveland is an engaging and solid biography that covers the highlights of Cleveland’s life and career.  Although Cleveland’s achievements as president are few, they were not nonexistent, and he must certainly be remembered as one of the most honest and internally consistent chief executives in our nation’s history.

Review of Chester Alan Arthur by Zachary Karabell

Chester Arthur, writes historian Zachary Karabell, “remains a cypher, one of those late-nineteenth-century inhabitants of the White House whose echo has been muffled by more memorable individuals and whose footprint…has been trampled on and all but erased” (2). In Chester Alan Arthur, Karabell attempts to bring Arthur to life for a new generation.  In so doing, he presents a sympathetic and compelling portrait of our mostly-forgotten 21^st president.

Many historians have considered Arthur to be largely a “place holder” president who made few contributions to the nation he briefly led.  Karabell argues just the opposite, claiming that “unexpectedly, the presidency of Chester Alan Arthur was a tipping point” (9) due to his signing the 1883 Pendleton Civil Service Reform Act.  This act, which required that certain positions in the federal government should be awarded on the basis of merit rather than political affiliation, marked the beginning of the end of the so-called “Spoils System,” in which these positions were given to political cronies regardless of their qualifications.  Arthur’s decision to sign the bill is especially surprising, given that he had made a career as the embodiment of the Spoils System, having grown wealthy as Collector of the Port of New York prior to becoming Garfield’s vice president.  Although the Pendleton Act applied to very few positions at first, over time, its standards were applied to increasingly more government jobs.  Karabell summarizes the act’s importance:

The Pendleton Act was a vital step toward a new view of government.  No longer would it be seen primarily as an adjunct of business or the tool of elites.  Instead, government became the protector of the common good…[The act] put the old spoils system on a path to obsolescence and it was a necessary prelude to the government-led reforms of the Progressive era and beyond. (109,111).

In addition to praising Arthur for signing the Pendleton Act, Karabell commends him for vetoing the first Chinese Exclusion Act of 1882 (although, under the threat of a veto override, he signed a second, less harsh act later that year), for vetoing a major “pork barrel” spending bill, and for beginning the process of modernizing the U. S Navy.  Karabell especially praises the latter accomplishment, arguing that “without Arthur, Roosevelt and McKinley might not have had a navy capable of annihilating the Spanish in 1898” (118).

Karabell’s summary of Arthur’s presidency is excellent:

In everything he did, Chester Alan Arthur was a gentleman, and that is rare and precious.  It reminds us that adversaries can be treated with respect, that democracy can survive differences, and that leadership isn’t just great words and deeds.  Arthur managed to be a decent man and a decent president in an era when decency was in short supply. (143)

Chester Alan Arthur is marred by two major flaws.  The first of these is his omission of the fascinating story of Julia Sand, a bedridden single woman who wrote Arthur a series of 23 letters between 1881 and 1883 and gave the president encouragement and advice.  Arthur was so impressed with Sands’ counsel that he saved all her letters and even once paid her a surprise visit.  Sands’ letters to Arthur influenced him greatly and thus must be given at least brief mention in an Arthur biography, no matter how brief it is.

The second major flaw of Karabell’s biography is the casual, almost chatty style in which it is written.  The author’s constant use of contractions in particular, will be annoying to readers who expect authors of formal historical works to use standard written English.  Despite these flaws, however, this biography is a solid introduction to Arthur’s life and times (in fact, Karabell includes some of the best summaries of Gilded Age life and politics I have ever seen in such a short work).  Chester Alan Arthur would be an excellent first step for anyone who seeks an introduction to our 21^st president.

Review of James A. Garfield by Ira Rutkow

Most Americans who have heard of James Garfield are likely to remember him as the U. S. president with the second-shortest term due to his having been mortally wounded by an assassin’s bullet only four months into his presidency.  In James A. Garfield, part of the “American Presidents” series of short biographies, scholar Ira Rutkow brings Garfield to life, arguing that as a Civil War general and as a congressman, Garfield made a significant contribution to American history even though he was a lackluster president.

Unlike the other authors in the “American Presidents” series, Rutkow is not an expert on the president whose biography he was assigned.  Rutkow’s area of expertise, rather, is the history of surgery.  Rutkow’s background makes him an especially appropriate choice to write about Garfield, given the great importance of surgery to Garfield’s story. His expertise on nineteenth-century surgical practices enables Rutkow to make his readers understand the issues at stake in Garfield’s treatment after his wounding by Charles Guiteau.  Rutkow’s description of the doctors’ actions will make a sympathetic reader cringe and lament the horrible bungling of the president’s care.

Rutkow’s treatment of Garfield’s pre-presidential career is evenhanded if slightly negative.  His Garfield is a generally honest politician who was not above using hardball politics when he felt they were necessary. To Rutkow, “Garfield was remarkably thin-skinned.  He constantly sought approval of his actions from supporters, reporters, and family, and, if not satisfied to the truthfulness of their praise, often became despondent” (46).  Garfield, far from being a dark horse presidential candidate in 1880 who came out of nowhere, obtained the nomination through “antagonism, controversy, and subterfuge” (50).  Rutkow gives President Garfield high marks for trying to end the Post Office’s “Star Route Fraud” but little praise for his presidency in general.  Rutkow concludes with the following evaluation of Garfield as president:

Garfield helped mold a nascent political party into a force that would lead his country into world leadership.  But as chief executive he was clumsy in controlling his party’s factional differences.  Garfield was not a natural leader and did not dominate men or events.  He was a kindhearted and intelligent individual who was also a calculating politician…Ultimately, it was his lack of assertiveness and worry over the slightest hint of criticism that interfered with his presidential decision making…and for this reason he is remembered more as a political party functionary—and for having been assassinated—than an inspirational American president. (137).

James A. Garfield is a well-written and serviceable biography of Garfield and would be a good introduction to the subject for someone with no knowledge about the twentieth president.  Students who are willing to read a slightly longer book would do better to read Destiny of the Republic by Candice Millard, a gripping and more sympathetic account of Garfield’s life, his assassination, and his medical (mal)treatment.

Review of Rutherford B. Hayes by Hans L. Trefousse

To many if not most Americans, Rutherford Birchard Hayes is one of a long line of hirsute late-nineteenth century presidents of whom almost no one has ever heard.  To interested students of American history, Hayes is known primarily as the president who gained his office under shady circumstances and who then turned his back on Southern African-Americans. In Rutherford B. Hayes, part of the “American Presidents” series of biographies, historian Hans L. Trefousse attempts to bring this obscure yet key president’s life and work to light and to defend him, arguing that our nineteenth president was much more effective than has generally been acknowledged.

Hayes’ path to the White House was fairly typical for politicians of his time.  Service in the Civil War (by the end of which he had risen to the rank of Major General) was followed by Hayes’ being elected to the House of Representatives and then to the governorship of Ohio.  As a successful governor of a major state, Hayes naturally began to be mentioned as a presidential candidate, and when the 1876 Republican convention could not agree on any of the leading candidates, they nominated the dark horse Hayes.  The election of 1876 resulted in controversy, with the razor-thin electoral vote decided in favor of the Republicans on a party line vote by a committee consisting of 8 Republicans and 7 Democrats.  Democrats accepted the result only in return for Hayes promising major concessions, the most notable of which was his agreement to remove federal troops from the South, effectively ending Reconstruction and any hope of civil rights for the freedmen.

Regarding Hayes’ monumental decision to withdraw federal troops from the South, a decision for which he has been heavily criticized from his time right down to the present, Trefousse argues that Hayes “had little choice. His predecessor, General Grant, had decided to withdraw support from the disputed governments even before the inauguration, and the country was no longer ready to tolerate military interference in the South” (92). Hayes was no opponent to African-Americans. Prior to removing the Army from the South, he obtained promises to protect the civil rights of the freedman from several Southern governors, although he was admittedly naïve to believe these pledges.  Hayes also took steps such as appointing Frederick Douglass as marshal for the District of Columbia and naming John Marshall Harlan, an opponent of anti-black discrimination, to the Supreme Court.

Hayes also attempted to deal kindly with Native Americans, even though individual Army commanders did not always follow his wishes. Hayes prevented the War Department from taking over the Bureau of Indian Affairs, which surely would have resulted in the Indians being treated even worse than they were.  Trefousse also gives Hayes high marks for foreign policy for presiding over an honest administration, and for laying the groundwork for much-needed civil service reform.  He summarizes Hayes’ administration thus:

What did Hayes contribute to the presidency?  His biographers have generally credited him with unifying the country, though faulting him for not succeeding in safeguarding blacks’ rights.  This verdict is substantially correct.  He was one of the best-educated men to occupy the White House, was honest, evenhanded, and humane.  Taking over the scandal-besmirched presidency from General Grant, he reestablished the good reputation of the country’s first office and was rewarded with the Republican success of 1880. This was his real achievement. (129)

With Rutherford B. Hayes, Hans Trefousse has succeeded in producing a balanced and well-written introduction to the life and career of our nineteenth president.  Anyone who wants to gain an introductory understanding of Hayes would do well to read it.

Review of American Ulysses: A Life of Ulysses S. Grant by Ronald White

Ulysses S. Grant may have been a great general, but as president of the United States, he was a dismal failure.  Although personally honest, Grant was a man of mediocre intellect and was a terrible judge of character who appointed unqualified and corrupt associates and presided over one of the most scandal-ridden administrations in United States History.  Or so we have usually been taught.  For decades, this unflattering description of Grant and his presidency has been a staple of American History courses. In recent decades, however, several historians have made attempts to “rehabilitate” President Grant. Ronald C. White’s American Ulysses: A Life of Ulysses S. Grant (2016) is the latest in a line of more sympathetic Grant biographies. White disputes much of the conventional wisdom regarding Grant, arguing that Grant was much more talented than he is usually given credit for and that his presidency was far from a failure.

Regarding Grant’s mental abilities, White admits that the general was no brilliant scholar on the level of Adams, Jefferson, or Theodore Roosevelt, but shows that he was far from dim-witted.  White points out that Grant had a great gift for mathematics, so much so that he considered becoming an instructor at West Point.  White also turns Grant’s famous comment that “much of the time [at West Point], I am sorry to say, was devoted to novels” (34) on its head.  He examines the specific novels that Grant read, arguing that even though Grant may have neglected his formal studies to read them, the novels expanded his view of the world and of the human psyche, which would greatly benefit him in the future.  While in Mexico, Grant took in all he could about the culture, geography and language (he was one of the few US soldiers who learned some Spanish) of the region.  The most well-known example of Grant’s mental acuity, however, are his insightful Memoirs, universally hailed as one of the best works of this genre ever written.  White makes a persuasive case that Grant’s mind was anything but dull.

Another Grant stereotype that White confronts is the general’s alleged lack of spirituality.  Many who have written about Grant have made much of the fact that he did not regularly attend Sunday services and never officially joined any church. Nevertheless, White argues that “the story of [Grant’s] relationship to religion is more complex than is usually understood…his piety was practical” (491).  As White points out, Grant prayed throughout his life, gave money to foreign mission efforts, and attended services when he could.  Moreover, his Methodist upbringing influenced him to adopt a tolerant mindset toward Indians and ultimately, to adopt the cause of the freedmen in the South. 

Finally, White tackles the common belief that Grant’s presidency was an utter failure.  Despite the scandals that occurred during the two terms of his presidency (for which only indirect blame can be assigned to Grant), President Grant enjoyed many successes.  First, with the help of his Secretary of the Treasury George Boutwell, Grant defeated Jay Gould and Jay Fisk’s scheme to corner the gold market, thus preventing a likely financial collapse.  Second, at a time when relations with Great Britain were strained, Grant worked for peace with Great Britain, greatly improving relations with the former mother country. Finally, Grant promoted friendly and generous policies toward American Jews, Native Americans, and especially African-Americans.  In regard to the latter, Grant generously supported the Freedman’s Bureau and signed into law the Ku Klux Klan Act, which dealt a deadly blow to the terror organization’s activity and undoubtedly saved the lives of many freedmen.  No less a leader than Frederick Douglass said of Grant, “To him more than any other man the Negro owes his enfranchisement and the Indian a human policy…” (659).

Regarding the scandals during Grant’s presidency, White does not excuse them, but rather attributes them to Grant’s own positive qualities, including his loyalty to his subordinates, his hatred of interpersonal conflict, and his belief in the good in all people.  White elaborates on this by quoting Grant’s Methodist minister Otis Tiffany, who wrote

Absolutely incapable of servility, [Grant] could not suspect other men of fawning sycophancy.  The soul of honor and manliness himself, a man who was a stranger to indirection and falsehood, General Grant could not comprehend how men could be dishonorable, and false by method (569).

American Ulysses is a tour-de-force of biographical writing.  White’s writing style is highly engaging, so much so that much of book (for example the parts on Grant’s service in the Civil War) reads like a hard-to-put-down novel.  The book suffers from a few minor errors, but these are extremely few.  In addition, there are a few curious omissions, like the famous story of the boy Ulysses (actually, “Hiram” at that time) trying to get a bargain on a horse and the promotion of the adult Grant to four-star general, but these omissions hardly detract from the quality of the book.  Those interested in the life of this pivotal figure in American History could do no better than to read American Ulysses.

Review of Impeached by David O. Stewart

Andrew Johnson is generally regarded as one of the three worst, if not THE worst, presidents in America’s history.  Johnson, a Democrat and the only senator from a seceding state to remain loyal to the Union, was tapped by the Republican Party in 1864 to be President Lincoln’s running mate.  Less than a month after becoming Vice President, Lincoln was assassinated, and Johnson acceded to the presidency.  Johnson’s presidency was characterized by constant conflict with Congress, led by Radical Republicans whose vision for Reconstruction could hardly have been more different from Johnson’s.  Johnson’s constant squabbling with Congress, aggravated by his headstrong and combative personality, eventually led to his being the first U. S. president in history (and the only one until the 1990s) to face impeachment.

In Impeached: The Trial of President Andrew Johnson and the Fight for Lincoln’s Legacy, David O. Stewart narrates the events that led to Johnson’s impeachment, which ended in his being acquitted by a single vote.  Historians who have written about the conflict between Johnson and the Radicals have tended to treat one side as heroes and the other as villains.  Stewart, however, refuses to take sides. He instead argues that both sides pursued agendas that were often wrongheaded, both sought above all else to project their own power, and both at times used corrupt means to further their ends.  For Stewart, the Radicals impeached Johnson for purely political means.  Their case against him was slipshod, and their prosecution of him was completely bungled.

This does not mean, however, that Stewart sees Johnson as a victim or as any kind of hero; rather, Johnson emerges in an even worse light.  As have most other historians of the period, Stewart portrays Johnson as petulant, egotistical, pugnacious, and often indecisive, not to mention completely unconcerned with the status of Southern African-Americans, whom he detested.  By going easy on the former Confederate states, Johnson and his defenders claimed to be preserving Lincoln’s legacy.  Stewart begs to differ:

Far from being Lincoln’s political heir, Johnson squandered Lincoln’s legacy. At a most delicate moment in our history, when greatness of spirit was needed, the man from Tennessee could not be more than the forceful, intelligent and intransigent politician he has always been.  The times demanded more. Johnson’s rise from abject poverty to the White House is an inspiring story, but his presidency was so calamitous that it can only be seen as a tragedy (319).

Impeached is a masterfully written account of Johnson’s presidency and impeachment.  The last half of the book in particular reads like a novel, so much so that I often had trouble putting it down.  The book might have been strengthened by the addition of more discussion of Johnson’s pre-presidential career, but other than that, it is near perfect.  Anyone who wants to understand the drama of Johnson’s impeachment, the key players in it, and the impact it had on American history, could do no better than to read this book.

Review of Abraham Lincoln by Benjamin Thomas and Lincoln by David Herbert Donald

In historians’ surveys that rank United States presidents, Abraham Lincoln nearly always comes out on top.  Of course, Lincoln has always had his detractors, but no one can plausibly deny Lincoln’s great importance to American history.  Partly because Lincoln looms so large in our nation’s story, and partly because he has always been so dear to me, I decided to read and review not just one, nor even two, but three biographies of Lincoln.  This dual review will cover the first two biographies that I read, while the third will be discussed in a separate review.

The first Lincoln biography I read was Benjamin Thomas’ Abraham Lincoln.  Prior to the publication of Thomas’ work, no comprehensive single-volume biography of Lincoln had been published since 1916.  Abraham Lincoln quickly became the standard one-volume study of Lincoln and would remain so until the 1977 publication of Stephen Oates’ With Malice Toward None (an excellent biography which, because I read it nearly 20 years ago, I chose to pass over this time).  Few have heard of Thomas’ Lincoln biography today, but because it was so important for so long, I decided to give it a chance.  I was not disappointed.

Thomas wrote at a time when most biographies did not attempt to address more than “just the facts”; that is, biographers (or at least those writing briefer works) generally contented themselves with narrating the life story of their subject, providing just enough detail about the times they lived in as was necessary.  Biographers prior to the 1960s did not often attempt to probe into the inner lives of their subjects, and Thomas is no exception.  As a result, the reader of Abraham Lincoln gains a solid understanding of the events of Lincoln’s life and times, but not much about Lincoln himself.  Little attention is given to Lincoln’s thoughts, desires or feelings.  Thomas devotes even less attention to Lincoln’s family, including his complex and often stormy relationship with his wife Mary Todd.  As a result, today’s readers might find themselves with many unanswered questions about Lincoln, questions that were not often asked by 1950s readers.

These weaknesses, however, do not make Abraham Lincoln a failure as a biography.  The book contains many strengths, the greatest of which is Thomas’ storytelling skills.  Writing usually more like a novelist than a historian, Thomas keeps his readers engrossed in the story, often practically on the edge of their seats, rapidly turning pages to see what happens next.  Thomas’ language is often so picturesque that the reader often feels he or she is present at the events described, as (for example) when he tells of the new State House in Springfield, Illinois, where chunks of plaster would come crashing down even while the representatives were in session.

In short, Abraham Lincoln succeeds as a good, basic introduction to the life and times of our sixteenth president.  It would be especially effective for undergraduates or any adults who are reading their first Lincoln biography.  Readers who are not overly concerned with Lincoln’s inner psychology or his family relationships will find it completely satisfactory.

For those who wish to probe a little deeper into Lincoln, there is David Herbert Donald’s 1995 Lincoln.  This masterful biography, written by a two-time Pulitzer Prize winner, was a New York Times bestseller and a winner of the Lincoln Prize in literature.  Donald fills in the gaps left by Thomas, devoting a significant amount of space to Lincoln’s family relationships, which were central to who he was.  Donald demonstrates that Lincoln’s marriage, though often difficult, was generally happy. Lincoln and Mary Todd provided invaluable support for each other through good times and bad.

Donald also makes extensive use of quotations from Lincoln’s writings to help the reader understood his often contradictory thoughts and desires.  While generally praising Lincoln, Donald points out his flaws (which seem to have been few), as well as the contradictions and inconsistencies in his actions as president.  For example, Lincoln often changed his views on the future of slavery in the South, confusing those around him.  Also, his management of the war was inconsistent; sometimes, he micromanaged his generals’ actions, while on other occasions, he took an approach that could be characterized as too “hands-off.”  Donald also paints an outstanding portrait of the complex relationship between Lincoln and his cabinet members, and his narration of the 1860 presidential campaign is terrific.

David Donald lacks Thomas’ exquisite storytelling skills, and his prose is at times less than exciting to read.  Still, he provides a much more complete portrait of President Lincoln than Thomas does.  Donald’s biography would be a good follow-up to Thomas’; I would recommend Thomas to the first-time Lincoln student in order for the student to gain basic knowledge of Lincoln’s life.  Those who would seek to go beyond the basics (but not to read a multi-volume work) could do no better than to read Donald’s Lincoln.  The result would be a well-informed reader who has had the privilege of reading two outstanding books.

Review of James Buchanan by Jean Baker

James Buchanan, the fifteenth president of the United States, was the third of a hapless trio of presidents who, for their lack of creative efforts to attempt to stave off secession and Civil War, consistently rank among in the bottom ten in historians’ rankings of US presidents.  Buchanan, more often than not, ranks dead last. Why was Buchanan, who entered into office as one of the most experienced US statesmen and diplomats in American history, such a failure as a president?

Many historians of the past have claimed that Buchanan’s failure was due primarily to his indecisiveness and his lack of assertiveness as a leader.  In James Buchanan, part of the “American Presidents” series of brief presidential biographies, historian Jean Baker argues just the opposite.  Baker claims that even though he did occasionally suffer from indecision, just as any leader does, Buchanan was normally a highly decisive and assertive leader.  These qualities, normally positive in a leader, proved to be negatives in Buchanan’s case, because in him they were wedded to a dogged pro-Southern orientation and an intense hatred for abolitionists and Republicans.

Among Buchanan’s many pro-Southern decisions, Baker especially highlights two.  The first is Buchanan’s support of the so-called “Lecompton Constitution” of 1857, which was approved by a minority of Kansas voters, all of whom who were pro-slavery, and some of whom did not even reside in Kansas. Although the Lecompton Constitution ultimately did not stand, Buchanan’s support of it emboldened southern “fire eaters” while simultaneously adding credence to the “Slave Power Conspiracy” held by an increasing number of northerners.  It was a clear failure to support fairness and legal procedure.

Another of Buchanan’s pro-Southern decisions that Baker views as key was his ordering Major Robert Anderson, the commander of Fort Sumter, to relocate the fort’s garrison to Fort Moultrie.  Due to Fort Moultrie’s location on South Carolina’s mainland, the fort and its garrison would easily have been captured by South Carolina forces.  Anderson knew this and wisely chose to disobey Buchanan’s orders, leading to the famous confrontation at Fort Sumter that began the Civil War.  As Baker points out, Buchanan’s order seems to indicate that he wanted the garrison to be captured.

Not only this, but Buchanan (willingly or not, we will likely never know) allowed certain of his cabinet officials to take measures that assisted the South and thereby made the Confederacy harder to defeat after war broke out.  Most notorious were the actions of Secretary of War John Floyd, who distributed cannon and small arms throughout the South immediately after secession.  If these actions occurred without Buchanan’s knowledge, he must be considered barely competent; if they occurred with his knowledge, he is guilty of treason.  In any case, Buchanan’s failure to stand up to the South prior to or after secession, clearly makes him one of the worst, if not THE worst, American presidents.

James Buchanan is well-written and persuasive.  Baker has provided students of American history with an excellent introduction to our fifteenth president.

Review of Franklin Pierce by Michael Holt

“Franklin Pierce was arguably the most handsome man ever to serve as president of the United States.  He was certainly one of the most amiable and congenial men to hold that office.”  So begins Michael Holt’s biography of Pierce, which is part of the “American Presidents” series.  Holt goes on to chronicle Pierce’s entry into politics and his rapid rise through the ranks of state legislator, U. S. Representative, U. S. Senator, Brigadier General in the Mexican-American War, and, ultimately, President of the United States.  During his life, Pierce overcame many struggles, including a proclivity toward excessive drinking, a difficult wife, and a series of embarrassing injuries during the war that disabled him and caused some to unfairly accuse him of cowardice.  Pierce’s charming character, together with his perseverance in the face of so many struggles, would seem be ingredients that would equip him to be a good president.  Regrettably, they did not, and today Pierce is generally ranked among one of our five or ten worst chief executives.

Why, despite his positive qualities, was Pierce such a failure as a president? In positing an answer to this question, Holt points out the complete dominance of the Democratic Party in Pierce’s home state of New Hampshire during the 1830s, 1840s and 1850s.  The lack of a viable opposition to the Democrats, as is often the case in politics, weakened Democratic unity and led to the threat of division.  Pierce, a loyal Democrat, desired above all else to keep the party unified.  As Holt argues, “For Pierce, the unity of the Democratic Party, both within the state and within the nation as a whole, was a fixation, a shibboleth, virtually a be-all and end-all.  His obsession with obtaining that unity would help wreck his presidency” (22-23).

Despite Pierce’s “making the bureaucratic administration of the executive branch more honest and efficient than it had been under his Whig predecessors” (52), Pierce’s obsessive desire to maintain the unity of the national Democratic Party, more than anything else, led to his adoption of an extremely pro-Southern domestic policy.  Pierce’s most significant pro-Southern act was signing the Kansas-Nebraska Act (which Holt calls “the biggest mistake of Franklin Pierce’s political career”), a law that wiped away the restrictions on the spread of slavery spelled out in the 1820 Missouri Compromise.  Pierce also did nothing to stop the actions of the pro-slavery “Border Ruffians”, residents of Missouri who crossed into Kansas to fight anti-slavery settlers and to vote for Kansas’ admission to the Union as a slave state.  Finally, Pierce attacked abolitionists, condemning them as fanatics and laying much of the blame for the civil strife of his time at their feet.  By the end of his term, Pierce was “damaged goods,” so much so that his own party refused to nominate him for a second term.

Franklin Pierce is an excellent brief biography of our fourteenth president.  Holt has succeeded admirably in presenting an account of Pierce’s life and career that is balanced and brief, yet surprisingly thorough.  Readers who are interested in an introduction to the sad story of Pierce could do no better than to read Holt’s biography.

Review of Millard Fillmore by Paul Finkelman

Good biographies are characterized by a compelling and engaging account of the subject’s life that is not hagiographic, but takes seriously the subject’s flaws.  At the same time, biographers should resist the urge to condemn their subjects, except in rare cases where the subject is an obviously evil person like a Stalin or a Hitler.  Finally, a good biography should provide just enough information about significant events of the day to place the subject’s actions in their proper context, but no more; the life and thought of the subject must remain the central focus. 

Paul Finkleman’s Millard Fillmore, part of the “American Presidents” series of brief presidential biographies, certainly steers clear of overly praising Fillmore, but it fails the other tests, for three main reasons  First, while the book is generally well-written, it is not particularly engaging.  Worse, it is highly repetitive.  Finkleman often repeats the same information two or even three times, without any qualifying verbiage like “as we have seen…”  For example Finkleman mentions three times that Fillmore was personally opposed to slavery but never took a public stand on the issue.  He mentions the Priggs v. Pennsylvania court case once and then later mentions it again as if the reader had never heard about it.  Other examples abound.  In a biography limited to 130 or 140 pages, such repetition is inexcusable.

A second major flaw of Finkleman’s work is that he devotes too much time to current events, so much so that Fillmore himself is often pushed to the side.  Finkleman seems virtually obsessed with the 1850 Fugitive Slave Act, devoting approximately 30 of the book’s 137 pages to it.  Fillmore is absent during much of this discussion.  While there can be no doubt that the Fugitive Slave Act had an enormous impact on antebellum American history and on the presidency and legacy of Fillmore, it does not merit nearly 25% of a Fillmore biography.  While reading this biography, I sometimes felt I was reading a history of the Fugitive Slave Act, with a brief introduction and conclusion about Fillmore.

A third flaw of the biography, and by far the most significant one, is the lack of balance.  Finkleman has very little good to say about Fillmore and much bad.  When narrating Fillmore’s actions and statements, Finkleman often uses highly pejorative language, verbiage that one would expect from an internet discussion thread rather than a scholarly biography.  Fillmore did not simply “state” things or “speak”; rather, Finkleman would have us believe, he “blustered” or “grandly declared.”  In another instance, Finkleman compares Fillmore to a “petulant teenager.”  Finkleman’s biography is more of a hit piece than an objective, scholarly biography.

In Finkleman's defense, the book is not completely without merit.  For example, his explanation of the controversy about slavery in the territories (THE most important issue in American politics from 1846-1861) is insightful and concise; in fact, it may be the best I have ever read.  Still, this and the few other positives are greatly outweighed by the negatives.

There is little doubt that Millard Fillmore, our second “accidental” president and the first of three “doughfaces” (northern men with pro-Southern principles), hardly ranks among our top presidents and probably deserves to be counted among the 10 worst.  Still, he deserves a better biography than this.  Readers wanting a more objective narration of Fillmore’s life will need to read Robert Rayback’ 1959 biography, dated and difficult to read as it is.  Or better yet, perhaps someone will write a new one.   How about you?

Review of Zachary Taylor: Soldier, Planter, Statesman of the Old West by K. Jack Bauer

“He was and remains an enigma.”  So writes the late historian K. Jack Bauer of Zachary Taylor, the twelfth president of the United States.  Taylor, Bauer elaborates, “was a man of limited emotional and intellectual capacity who appears to have developed a nearly impenetrable mask.”  Despite this, Bauer in the mid-1980s decided to attempt to peel back the mask of this little-known and often forgotten president.  The result is Zachary Taylor:  Soldier, Planter, Statesman of the Old West, a now-classic biography of “Old Rough and Ready.”

Given that Taylor was the first president to have been a solider for nearly all of his adult life, it is not surprising that Bauer devotes 210 of 327 pages (64%) of the book to Taylor’s long military career.  Prior to the Mexican War, Taylor spent much of his time helping protect America’s western frontier, and like most such soldiers, his service was characterized mostly by tedium punctuated by occasional fighting, including action in the Black Hawk and Seminole Wars.  Taylor’s competent service as a junior officer led to him reaching the rank of brigadier general in 1838 and being placed in command of the Army’s Western Division three years later.

When the United States annexed Texas in 1845, Taylor and his army were ordered to the Nueces River and then to the Rio Grande, which the Mexican government believed to be solidly within Mexico’s boundaries.  This led to the outbreak of hostilities in May of 1846.  Over the next nine months, Taylor won four straight battles against Mexican forces, although Bauer argues that none of these battles were a result of Taylor’s great prowess as a military commander. For Bauer, Taylor was a generally competent, but not outstanding, commander whose success was the result of able subordinates, terrible decisions by Mexican commanders, and just plain luck.  After his victory at Buena Vista in February, 1847, Taylor’s force was essentially put on hold for the rest of the war, even as a large portion of it was stripped away to augment General Winfield Scott’s attack on Veracruz and his subsequent march toward Mexico City.

Taylor’s military success led to him being touted as a potential presidential candidate for the 1848 election, although it was not sure which party’s ticket he would lead.  Taylor, perhaps the least politically-minded candidate to that time, had never voted in any election.  Ultimately, he was persuaded to run as a Whig, due to his having a nationalist viewpoint at a time when the Democratic Party was increasingly under the domination of pro-slavery elements.  Prior to the election, the Democrats split, leading to a Taylor victory.

Despite being a slaveholding southerner, President Taylor pursued a nationalist agenda, strongly opposing the spread of slavery into the territories won from Mexico.  He also worked to improve relations with Great Britain, including acknowledging Britain’s right to establish a colony (modern-day Belize) in Central America while relinquishing any American claims to Latin American territory.  In this, he surprised many, for as Bauer writes,

few presidents have proven in practice to be as different from their expected roles as Zachary Taylor…it is doubtful that many Americans in 1848 would have predicted that the slaveholding planter from Louisiana would emerge as the champion of exclusion of slavery from the territories or that the victorious solider of the Mexican War would have presided over the renunciation of Manifest Destiny and the curtailing of the Monroe Doctrine. (320)

What further contributions President Taylor may have made will, of course, be forever a mystery, since only 16 months after becoming president, Taylor died of a stomach ailment, the cause of which is still not completely understood.

Zachary Taylor:  Soldier, Planter, Statesman of the Old West is a serviceable and generally readable story of the life of Zachary Taylor.  Bauer’s descriptions of Taylor’s Mexican War battles, along with the brief narrative of his presidency are the book’s greatest strengths, while the parts that deal with Taylor’s pre-Mexican War military career and the 1848 election are a bit tedious.  Bauer presents a balanced portrait of Taylor, being neither too complimentary nor too critical.  For someone who wants to learn in some depth about Taylor and his times, Bauer’s biography is an excellent choice.

Review of Polk: the Man Who Transformed the Presidency and America by Walter R Borneman

James Knox Polk, the eleventh president of the United States, is generally known for two things:  for being a “dark horse” presidential candidate (the first in American history), and for being the president who presided over the Mexican-American War and the subsequent addition of hundreds of thousands of square miles of territory to the United States. In Polk: the Man Who Transformed the Presidency and America, historian Walter R Borneman argues two main points: that candidate Polk was anything but a “dark horse”, and that President Polk was one of the most successful and influential Chief Executives not only of the nineteenth century, but of all time.

In his brief narration of Polk’s early life and political career prior to the election of 1844, Borneman stresses Polk’s great intelligence and ambition.  Polk, a protégé of Andrew Jackson, became a US congressman at the age of 30, Speaker of the House at 40, and governor of Tennessee at 44. Polk was given serious consideration for the Democratic vice presidential nomination in 1840.  Fortunately for him, however, the party chose someone else.  Had Polk been the nominee, his party’s crushing defeat might have ended his presidential aspirations. 

Borneman’s narration of the 1844 campaign, with all its twists and turns, is thorough and entertaining.  The divided Democrats at first could not agree on a single candidate, with each region of the country supporting its own “favorite son.”  Eventually, Polk emerged as an alternative candidate that all regions could get behind (his being supported by Jackson certainly did not hurt his cause, either).  Borneman repeatedly argues that Polk, although he was initially not seen as a serious candidate, was nonetheless not a “dark horse.”  His having been Speaker of the House, Governor of Tennessee, and a much-talked-about possible vice presidential candidate in 1840 meant that he was hardly unknown in 1844.

Borneman devotes the second half of the book to Polk’s presidency, which he sees as a strong one.  He gives Polk high praise for being the only president to keep all of his campaign promises, which in Polk’s case were to acquire Texas, acquire Oregon, lower tariffs, and establish an independent Treasury.  While there is no doubt that President Polk did indeed achieve these goals, Borneman gives Polk perhaps too much credit for the first two, downplaying the work that Polk’s predecessor John Tyler and his administration did to prepare the way.  Borneman also gives Polk much credit for acquiring the Mexican Cession, which greatly increased the size of the United States, but he leaves aside the dubious morality of that action and its impact on Mexicans, Indians, and other non-whites.

Borneman’s portrait of Polk is highly positive, almost to the point of being hagiographic.  In spite of this, it is a very engaging read and an excellent overview of Polk’s life, his presidency, and the events of the 1830s and 1840s.  For readers seeking an introduction to these topics, Borneman’s biography is a great place to start.

Review of John Tyler: The Accidental President by Edward Crapol

Like his predecessor William Henry Harrison, John Tyler is unknown to most Americans, even many educated ones.  He receives scant attention in a typical U. S. History course, and when he is mentioned, he is credited with little more than being the first vice president to succeed to the White House upon the death of the sitting president.  Tyler is often portrayed as a caretaker president who accomplished little of significance.

In John Tyler: the Accidental President, historian Edward Crapol argues that while Tyler may not deserve to be counted among one of our greatest or most significant presidents, the traditional view of Tyler is far from the truth.  Crapol discusses several of Tyler and his administration’s significant achievements, while at the same time not shying away from pointing out the flaws of “His Accidency.”

Like many of his presidential predecessors, John Tyler was born to wealth and privilege.  The son of a wealthy planter, judge and member of the Virginia House of Delegates, Tyler entered politics as a young man. He was voted to the House of Delegates at age 21, the US House of Representatives at 26, the Governorship of Virginia at 35, and the US Senate at 37, and finally the Vice Presidency of the United States at 50.  When President William Henry Harrison died after only a month in office, Tyler took the unprecedented step of assuming both the title and the responsibilities of president. 

With such a long career in public service, Tyler was well-prepared for the presidency, and his future must have seemed bright indeed.  But one inconvenient fact helped ensure that Tyler would be a one-term president.  Politically, Tyler was a disciple of the Jeffersonian small government and states’ rights tradition; as such he naturally joined the Democratic Party when it was founded.  Due to his opposition to some of Andrew Jackson’s policies, however, Tyler left the party and joined the Whigs, despite having little in common with them philosophically.  Upon becoming president, Tyler made it clear he was a Whig in name only; as a result, the party expelled him.  Tyler tried to make common cause with the Democrats and to gain their nomination for president in 1844, but the party, still heavily under the influence of Jackson, rejected Tyler’s overtures.

Despite being a virtual lame duck president for nearly his entire term, Tyler and his administration made several important contributions to our nation’s history.  First, he “moved to strengthen and modernize the American navy,” beginning the process of shifting to a steamship navy.  Second, he helped reduce tensions with Great Britain (which were high in 1841), presiding over the signing of the 1842 Webster-Ashburton Treaty, which, among other things, permanently set the northeastern boundary between the U. S. and Canada.  Third, Tyler expanded U. S. contact with the Pacific, bringing Hawaii into the American sphere of influence and establishing trade relations with China for the first time.  Fourth, Tyler and his administration did most of the work to bring Texas into the U. S., making it relatively simple for his successor James Polk to complete the process.  For all of these accomplishments, Crapol argues, Tyler should be seen as a strong president, not the caretaker that many take him to have been.

Despite these important accomplishments, Tyler had several flaws and contradictions.  Despite being ideologically a Jeffersonian, committed to states’ rights and a weak central government, he strengthened presidential power and occasionally undermined that of the states.  And even though he had qualms about the morality of slavery, he defended the “peculiar institution” with vigor, going as far as to eventually join the Confederacy and thus become the only former U. S. president to be branded a traitor and to not have his death acknowledged by the U. S. government.

John Tyler: the Accidental President is an engaging and highly informative read.  In only 283 pages, Crapol succeeds admirably in bringing to life not only John Tyler the man, but also his accomplishments and failures, as well as the key happenings in late antebellum America.  Anyone interested in gaining an understanding of American politics in the early 1840s could hardly to better than to begin with this outstanding book.