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.