Remembering Senator Chuck Percy (1919-2011)

Senator Chuck Percy in 1975.

Senator Charles H. Percy (R.-Illinois, 1919-2011)  died this weekend in Washington, D.C. at 91 years old.  It is a sad day.  Chuck Percy was a first rate senator of a type we sorely need today: smart, moderate, with backbone enough to stick to principles but principled enough to reach across to aisle.  

Me as a staff legal intern with Senator Percy, circa 1975.

For me personally, Chuck Percy was the first political figure I ever worked for in Washington, starting as a law school intern in 1975 and joining his team formally after getting my degree in 1976.  As a very junior staffer on the Governmental Affairs Committee, where Percy was the ranking Republican, I enjoyed a ringside seat to some of the most interesting politics of the day and saw a true role model of effective bipartisanship.  Percy himself showed me how a Senator (or any good leader) should act: demanding and exacting, but calm, dignified, articulate, informed, and skillful.


A business prodigy – Percy become president of camera giant Bell and Howell at 29 years old before defeating Democrat Paul Douglas for his Illinois senate seat in 1966 — Percy at first unabashedly called himself a “liberal Republican.”  That species is largely extinct today, but back in the 1970s it included some of the most accomplished: New York’s Jacob Javits, Maryland’s Charles Mathias, Connecticut’s Lowell Weicker, Oregon’s Mark Hatfield, among others. 



The U.S. Senate was a very different place in the 1970s.  My friend and colleague from those years Ira Shapiro, who served as counsel to Senator Tom Eagleton (D-Missouri) and other Democrats back then — has written a new book about that era soon to be released called The Last Great Senate, a time when members routinely crossed party lines and risked controversy to solve national problems.  Percy fit that mold.  
  


On the liberal side, Percy challenged the Vietnam War as early as 1967, clashed with President Richard M. Nixon over Watergate in 1973, and railed against corruption in Chicago’s political machine under then-mayor Richard J. Daley.  He supported federal handgun control (his 21-year old daughter Valerie had been murdered in 1966 in their home, apparently by an intruder, a crime that was never solved).  He pushed a plan to focus gun controls on urban areas like Chicago that needed it while leaving rural areas like southern Illinois unaffected.  I still remember my own horror at first seeing leaflets circulated by the National Rifle Association that year showing Percy’s face with a target bull’s eye over it.     


Senator Abe Ribicoff in the mid-1970s.

But most important to me was what I learned from Senator Percy about partnerships.  The Governmental Affairs Committee, where I worked my entire time under the Senator in the 1970s, was largely run by a troika of senior members (sometimes to the consternation of other Senators): Percy teaming with the committee’s chairman, Abraham Ribicoff (D-Conneticut), and Javits.  Only the rarest issue divided the committee along party lines.  On most everything else, Ribicoff and Percy always insisted on finding ways to “work it out.”  Often, on reaching a legislative impasse, they’d simply instruct the two staffs, majority and minority, not to fight, but rather to go off and come back with an answer.  




As a result,  the Governmental Affairs Committee was remarkably productive during those years — passing bills to create the Energy and Education Departments, the post-Watergate ethics reforms, the Congressional budget process, the 1978 Civil Service Reform Act (my own first big project), and many others.  



Friendships among the staffs, Republican and Democrat, were common and long lasting.  




The most partisan moment I recall was the Committee’s 1977 investigation of T. Bertram Lance, President Jimmy Carter’s close friend and director of OMB who in 1977 was accused of irregularities while running the National Bank of Georgia.  Percy and Ribicoff both called for Lance’s resignation — a particularly tough stance for Ribicoff who had to defy his own party’s President.  The controversy came to a head in high-profile public hearings that were broadcast gavel-to-gavel and coast-to coast — this too a rarity back in the 1970s before the advent of C-SPAN.  


The Bert Lance hearings became very bitter, with most Democrats strongly backing Lance on behalf of the Carter White House.  As a young staff lawyer, I was struck by the sudden hostility in our previously cozy little committee group, the heavy media focus, and the fact that we actually received anonymous death threats.  I remember one particular point when White House press secretary Jody Powell publicly accused Senator Percy — apparently without checking his facts — of taking an illegal campaign contribution in the form of free travel on a corporate airplane.  Fortunately, within hours, Percy produced a cancelled check proving the charge false.


Despite enormous pressure, Ribicoff and Percy never wavered in their joint demand that Lance resign.  They had each other’s backs.  Lance resigned from OMB in September 1977 shortly after the hearings.  

Percy campaign poster from 1978.

Senator Percy changed his views on economic issues in 1978 when he faced an unexpectedly strong re-election challenge from Chicago Democrat Alex Seith.  This too was my own first close-up exposure to Chicago politics; I traveled there to work on the campaign in its final days.  Seith took a wide lead in polls just before the November vote, prompting Percy to issue one of the most famous political advertisements of that era — the “I got the message” ad.  (Click here to see it on YouTube.)  He eked out a narrow win. 

I left Senator Percy’s staff in 1981 to take a job in the Reagan administration at the Commodity Futures Trading Commission, the regulatory body that oversees financial derivatives markets.  (I would not formally switch to Democrats until the mid-1980s.)  Percy would lose his Senate seat in 1984 to Democrat Paul Simon, and after that would stay in Washington focusing on his Alliance to Save Energy and other projects, though largely outside the public eye.  In recent years, he suffered from Alzheimer’s disease.


I remember my years on Senator Percy’s staff as exciting, challenging, and fascinating.  I still keep in touch with many friends from back then.  Today, as we bemoan the crippling partisanship that literally has paralyzed Washington, we could well use a few more types on Capitol Hill like Chuck Percy and Abe Ribicoff — people who combined the strength, confidence, and skill to know how and when to “work things out” to benefit the country.      


My sincere condolences go out to Senator Percy’s family and close friends on this sad occasion.   

ANNOUNCEMENT: Coming soon — Viral History Press !!

The first four titles for Viral History Press – coming October.  No kitchen should be without them. 



Mark your calendars.  Something new is coming in October: Viral History Press.

Viral History Press, LLC is our latest business venture, a new, cutting-edge, independent small publishing house.  Like Viral History Blog, the new Press dedicates itself to keeping history alive, vital, and relevant.

History zealots — you are not alone!

New technology has changed the face of publishing.  The Internet creates freedom, puts power in the hands of individuals, and opens exciting new opportunities for direct, instant contact.  eBooks, print-on-demand, mobile applications, iPads and slates, have shaken the roots of traditional reading, and waves of change keep pounding the beach. 
  
Viral History Press is our attempt to use new tools to empower writers.  We will use new technology to reach readers directly: 

  • Physical books via print-on-demand, through Amazon.com, Barnes and Noble, and other outlets;
  • e-Books through Kindle, Nook, and Apple: 
  • Audiobooks through iTunes and Amazon.com, and 
  • Blogging to keep in touch instantly on daily issues.   
Flat Stanley loved Boss Tweed.  So too did the New York Times Book
Review
,  Washington Post Book World, NPR’s “On Point,”  among others.
And they’ll all love the new Viral History Press edition – coming October.  

To get started, I have obtained back the publishing rights for each of my own four books: Boss Tweed, Young J. Edgar, Dark Horse, and The Gold Ring, previously released by houses including Perseus, Harper Collins, Avalon Group, and Dodd Mead.   Viral History Press has partnered with terrific artists like Zaccarine Design, Inc., of Evanston, Illinois, and Studio 6 Sense of Madison, Wisconsin, to convert these titles into top-quality PoDs and eBooks.   We plan to roll them out in new editions in October and November.  


Once we’ve worked out the publishing kinks on these, we plan to expand.  Our vision is to make Viral History Press LLC a resource for readers and writers with a special love of history and politics: writers with terrific backlist books, biographers, historians, activists, historical novelists, family sleuths and genealogists.  Being small and independent, we can tailor contracts to give writers bigger upside returns, minimize cost, side-step bureaucracy, and make best use of nimble, web-based marketing.        

That’s the vision.  Now the hard work.  Keep an eye out for us in October, and in the meantime visit our new (still very rough) web page at http://www.viralhistorypress.com/.. 


GUEST BLOGGER: Gregory Michno on the violent Sioux uprising in Minnesota, 1862.

Taoyateduta, or Little Crow, leader of the Sioux uprising of 1862.  





In August 1862, hundreds of Dakota Sioux opened a murderous rampage against settlers and soldiers in southern Minnesota,  perhaps the greatest massacre of whites by Indians in American history, capping years of encroachment and confiscation by whites of traditional Indian lands.   In his new book, DAKOTA DAWN: The Decisive First Week of the Sioux Uprising, August 17–24, 1862,  Gregory F. Michno describes the opening of the conflict, in which the Sioux succeeded, albeit fleetingly, in driving out the white man.   In the excerpt below, he explains the roots of the uprising.  [Click here to order an author bookplate-signed copy from publisher Savas Beatie.] 

         At daybreak on August 18, 1862, the Dakota Indians of Minnesota commenced a massacre on a scale never before experienced by Americans.  How did it happen?

         There were two main reasons: greed and land hunger—from both white and Indian.  Indian tribes coveted land and the stronger tribes took it from the weaker tribes when it suited their needs.  They had no concept of legal ownership as did the white man, but they certainly understood ownership by conquest. The white man coveted land also, and although he may have used more subtle “legal” measures, if they failed, physical conquest was a tried and true option. To paraphrase an American folk song, some men will rob you with a six-gun, while others will rob you with a fountain pen. White Americans were practiced at both.


        As Indian tribes were forced west, even the idea of a permanent Indian Country beyond the Mississippi was eventually scrapped; there was just too much good land out there needed by an expanding America in the throes of a fever that many called Manifest Destiny. Indian tribes could be put on reservations, colonized, and eventually they might integrate into white society.  The Preemption Act of 1841 allowed Americans to settle on public land prior to purchase, without being considered trespassers. They moved to lands they considered “public,” even while tribes already occupied them, becoming de facto owners. The government needed treaties with the tribes to make them de jure owners. The fountain pen was a great conscience-soother.


          The Dakotas had been slowly forced west from their lands around the upper Great Lakes by the Chippewas in the process of conquest that the tribes were all familiar with. In 1849 when Minnesota Territory was organized, the whites who began moving in created more problems for the Dakotas than the Chippewas ever did. By 1851, it was evident that something had to be done to move the Indians out of the way again. Of the four Dakota bands, agents and traders believed the Upper Sioux Sissetons and Wahpetons were less sophisticated and cautious than the Mdewakantons and Wahpekutes and that they would sign any treaty if simply for all the good presents they would receive.


Attempts at Treaties 
         On July 23, 1851, at Traverse des Sioux on the Minnesota River, Commissioner Luke Lea and Minnesota Territorial Governor Alexander Ramsey presided over the meeting in which the Sissetons and Wahpetons sold their lands in the state of Iowa and in western Minnesota for $1,665,000 in cash and annuities and agreed to move to a 20-mile wide reservation stretching along both banks of the western Minnesota River. Out of the money, $275,000 was to be paid to the chiefs to relocate their people and $30,000 was earmarked for the building of mills, schools, blacksmith shops, and farms. Of the remaining
$1,360,000, they were to be paid five percent interest, or $68,000, annually. From that, $28,000 was also subtracted to pay for agricultural improvement, education, and purchase of goods and provisions. 

Minnesota Governor (later US Senator) Alexander Ramsey:
 “The Sioux Indians of Minnesota must be exterminated or
driven forever beyond the borders of the state.” 

          Thirty five Indians signed the agreement, including Running Walker, Sleepy Eyes, Metal Horn, Grey Thunder, Cloud Man, and He Who Shoots as He Walks (Mazakutemani).  Missionary Stephen R. Riggs interpreted, read, and explained each article to the  chiefs several times. The bottom line was that the two bands would get only $40,000 a year.


          With the sale, the Wahpekutes and Mdewakantons were faced with a fait accompli. At Mendota on August 5, the bands signed a treaty that sold their lands in southeast Minnesota for $1,410,000. It was not smooth. There was discord, especially among some of the older chiefs who had sold their lands east of the Mississippi back in 1837. They claimed they had not yet been paid all the money due to them from that transaction. Red Leaf (Wabasha) was in opposition, but Little Crow (Taoyateduta) — who ultimately would lead the 1862 uprising — still felt at that time that the treaty might be the solution to their economic problems.


          It is difficult to argue that Little Crow and the other chiefs and headmen did not know what they were signing. They had discussed the terms for two years, while the council’s explanations, interpretations, and arguments had taken eight days, and 65 men made their marks on the agreement. When $30,000 from the old 1837 treaty was handed over there was an orgy of spending, much of it on horses and liquor, and the merchants in and around St. Paul experienced a minor windfall.


          The temporary euphoria notwithstanding, after the subtractions for education, relocation, and infrastructure—much as with the treaty with the Sissetons and Wahpetons—the Mdewakontans and Wahpekutes would get only $30,000 a year. In total the four tribes would get $70,000 divided up among
7,000 people, making about $10 per person. 


Washington undercuts the deal
         That was not all, for the U.S. Senate was not finished with it. Former Secretary of the Interior Alexander H. H. Stuart had warned Ramsey and Lea that a reservation should not be established within the confines of the land purchase, but rather off to the west in Dakota Territory. He knew many senators were not in favor of the concept and he knew it might affect votes, but he may not have realized it might also affect life and death.


          Ramsey and Lea were hamstrung; they could not get Indian signatures without the reservation closer to their old homelands. They included it, and the Senate promptly scratched it out. The Dakotas felt betrayed and would not accept the amended version. Governor Ramsey scrambled for a solution, coming up with a temporary expedient that allowed the Dakotas to occupy the reservation lands for 25 years, after which the president could decide if they were to stay or move. Perhaps reluctant to face the chiefs again, Ramsey got trader Henry M. Rice to persuade them. The proceedings were not recorded; Rice got signatures on the amended treaty, but many Dakotas came away with the idea that they could stay on the reservation forever.


Undercut by Ramsey and the traders 
         After all the legalities and paper chasing, there was a lot of money floating around, and the traders wanted a hand in it. Moments after the Indians had signed the treaties, the traders handed them a second document to sign, called the “traders’ paper.” This pact said the Indians agreed to hand over $210,000 of their treaty money to pay the traders for past debts. Most Dakotas agreed that the debts should be paid, but they wanted control over the distribution to cover only legitimate debts.  Still, only the Mdewakantons refused to sign. 
           

Henry H. Sibley, later a congressman and Governor, would be appointed
colonel in the Minnesota militia and held crush the 1862 Sioux uprising.

        In November 1852, Governor Ramsey picked up the treaty money. After much discussion, all the Dakotas now wanted him to give them the money directly so they could pay their debts. Ramsey refused. Instead, he told them they must sign a receipt for the money and let him distribute it. Wabasha and Wakute adamantly disagreed, along with many of the mixed-bloods. On the other hand, chiefs such as Good Road and Bad Hail supported Ramsey. All had their reasons; Bad Hail had a son in prison and Ramsey offered to free him for his support.


          Greed and self-interest took over, as it usually did. The whites sought Little Crow’s help. Mixed-blood Alexander Faribault, Little Crow’s trader and a protege of Henry H. Sibley, made a deal with Little Crow to pay him $3,000 in exchange for signing Ramsey’s receipt.  Little Crow agreed, as did Wabasha, Wakute, and others.  Ramsey went to the Sissetons and Wahpetons. This time, Red Iron resisted so vehemently that Ramsey threw him in jail. With Red Iron out of the way, the others signed, got paid, and Ramsey was free to distribute the money as he saw fit. 


           By the end of the year $495,000 was gone into the traders’ coffers, and Governor Ramsey had deducted a 10% handling fee for all his hard work. Charges were brought against the governor for misappropriation of funds, but although it was found that he “was not warranted under the circumstances in paying over the money,” he was exonerated by a senate resolution. Ramsey, as ex officio superintendent, was supposed to have the Indians’ interest at heart—instead he looked to protect the traders at the Indians’ expense.

          The money designated for removal and subsistence was gone, whites were moving into the Dakotas’ lands west of the Mississippi, and there was no money to relocate them or set up the new reservation.


More treaty violations

        The Dakotas tried to exist under the rules that seemed ambiguous at best. Several years later, however, they were forced back to the treaty table. Minnesota had been admitted to the Union as a state in May 1858. More whites were moving in, encroaching on the reservation, and clamoring for the lands. In the summer of 1854, about 30 men, mostly recent German immigrants, left Chicago and searched for new farmland near the junction of the Cottonwood and Minnesota Rivers.  The first site they found for a potential town having just the right amount of fertile land, timber, and water was in a temporarily abandoned Dakota village! They moved in, and when the Indians returned, naturally there was a confrontation.  Bloodshed was avoided, however, mainly through the intercession of a nearby trader.


          The settlers survived by living in the Indians’ bark huts through the winter. The impasse was settled by territorial Governor Willis A. Gorman, who ruled that the Indians were technically off their reservation, which began about nine miles upriver at the mouth of Little Rock Creek. The Dakotas reluctantly moved away and more Germans moved in, their town site eventually becoming the village of New Ulm. Within three years, every quarter-section open for settlement had been pre-empted and hundreds of newcomers were in the area. Although most settlers had no serious confrontations with the Indians in the 1850s, the boundary between the “Dutchmen” and the Dakotas would remain a sore point, and the settlers would pay the price in 1862.


          Not only did the Dakotas clear out of the area, but the Senate in 1852 removed that part of the treaty that guaranteed the Dakotas a reservation in Minnesota. To prevent future confrontations with settlers and to finally secure legal title, government officials now tried to convince the Indians that it would be better to sell a portion of the reservation that they didn’t really own than to have the state take it by force.

Confrontation in Washington, D.C. 
         In the spring of 1858 a delegation of 27 Dakotas, including Little Crow, Wabasha, Shakopee, Mankato, Big Eagle, Red Iron, Mazakutemani, and Otherday, traveled to Washington D.C.  This time they sat down at the negotiation table with a new Commissioner, Charles E. Mix, who was not so conciliatory and was not averse to bullying. In meetings stretching from March through June, the Dakotas met with President James Buchanan once and with Mix a number of times. Little was resolved.

US Commissioner Charles E. Mix (seated at center) meeting with a delegation from the Sauk & Fox and Kaw tribes in Washington, D.C, 1867.

          Little Crow complained of German settlers moving on to his lands, but Mix showed him a map where the boundary was made at Little Rock Creek, and besides, the Senate had removed not only the boundary, but the reservation. The Dakotas occupied the land only “by the courtesy of their Great Father.” If they wanted to stay there they should sell the northern half above the Minnesota River and become farmers on the southern half, which would be divided into 80-acre individual allotments.


           By June the weather in Washington grew extremely hot, humid, and stifling. Tempers were on edge and the Indians were being worn down. They wanted to go home. At times Little Crow and Mix exchanged heated words.  Little Crow was ashamed of what he and his Sioux were being forced to sign, but he rationalized once again that the deal would at least give them more money to pay off those ever-present trade debts. The chiefs signed the agreement on June 19, without even knowing what amount they would be paid for the land.  Two years passed before the US Senate resolved to pay them, but only at 30 cents per acre for lands said to be worth five dollars an acre. 


       The Lower Sioux (Mdewakantons and Wahpekutes) got $96,000 and the Upper Sioux (Sissetons and Wahpetons) got $170,880. Of course, the traders’ claims were subtracted from that, leaving the Upper Sioux with about half of the amount, and the Lower Sioux with virtually nothing.


          Although 27 chiefs had signed the treaty, most of the Indians back in Minnesota were outraged, especially at the loss of half the reservation. The money issue was another sore spot. The Indians never seemed to get what they thought was their due. 


Abraham Lincoln
           When Abraham Lincoln was elected president, a whole new set of Republican administrators came to office in the spring of 1861, including the Minnesota Superintendent Clark W. Thompson, and Agent Thomas J. Galbraith. The Mdewakanton Big Eagle succinctly summed up the regime change: the Indians “did not like the new men.”


          Usually, presidential changes meant good news for the tribes. John Nairn, a carpenter at the Lower Agency, recorded a conversation that may have been apocryphal, but nevertheless illustrated the Dakotas’ mindset. Two Indians sat smoking. One said, “Have you heard the news? We are getting a new great father.” The other man was pleased. “That is news indeed,” he replied with a laugh, “I wonder if his pockets are deep? Our great father always sends us a new father with deep pockets and the Dakotas have to fill them.”


          Galbraith quickly learned that the Lower Sioux believed they would be paid “one hundred boxes of money” per year (a box meaning to them $1,000), and the Upper Sioux a similar amount. Instead, the Lower Sioux fund was used to pay off debts and two-thirds of the Upper Sioux money disappeared the same way. If the plan was to have debts subtracted every year, Galbraith said, “I shall not pretend to relate in detail.” All he knew for a fact was that “from the first day of my arrival upon the reservation, up to the outbreak, this matter was a perpetual source of wrangling, dissatisfaction, and bitter, ever-threatening complaints on the part of both the upper and lower bands.”


          If the Dakotas hadn’t realized it earlier, they certainly now knew what it meant to be robbed with a fountain pen.
                                                                    


“Uncle Joe” Cannon, the real ghost haunting John Boehner this summer as Speaker of the House.

Joseph Gurney Cannon (R.-Ill.) circa 1920, after being
toppled as House Speaker, voted out of Congress,
then elected to return. 



I have bent your ears many times about Joseph G. Cannon (R.-Ill.), the legendary, autocratic Speaker of the House who ultimately was stripped of power in a dramatic House floor revolt back in 1910.   (See “Uncle Joe” Cannon, November 10, 2010.)  Cannon was such a towering figure that Congress ultimately decided to name its signature building after him, the Cannon House Office Building, today one of the most familiar landmarks in Washington, D.C.  

Cannon on the cover of Time Magazine, 1923.

This past week, the painful, sometimes-humiliating spectacle of our modern Speaker of the House, John Boehner (R-Ill.), trying to corral his divided Republicans, including over 80 freshman “Tea Party” members, in the high-stakes confrontation over raising the federal debt ceiling, has once again put Joe Cannon in the news.   Commentators as diverse as Doris Kearns Goodwin (CNN), Norman Ornstein (New York Times Book Reviewand Jeffrey Lord (American Spectator) all have invoked Cannon’s name in analyzing Boehner and modern Capitol Hill.   


Were we better off in the old days when Capitol Hill oligarchs like Cannon could twist arms and intimidate Congressmen into swallowing a deal they didn’t like — in contrast to Boehner’s repeated last week frustrations with his Tea Party faction?  Did those old days ever really exist at all?    


Joe Cannon truly is the ghost haunting Capitol Hill this summer.    Cannon — everyone from president to shoe shine boy called him “Uncle Joe” — presided as Speaker from 1903 to 1911, the height of Theodore Roosevelt’s era.  When he left Congress in March 1923, he had served almost fifty years and been elected twenty-two times, a record back then. Time Magazine that month put his face on the cover of its first-ever edition. Tall, lanky, and outgoing, always a cigar in his teeth, quick with a smart off-color joke, a back-slapping poker player, Cannon received 58 votes for president of the United States at the 1908 Republican Convention and had his picture on two different brands of chewing tobacco.


Washington Star front-page cartoon the morning after
Cannon is stripped of powers.



“Uncle Joe” could be charming, but also coarse and tough.  As Speaker, he felt perfectly entitled to punish recalcitrant members of his own party in ways no modern Speaker would dare.  He stripped them off committees, silenced them on the House floor, cut off their patronage, insulted or abused them, and even recruited challengers in their home districts.  

His caucus mostly went along — it was simply the way things worked back then.  Even President William Howard Taft, when Cannon asked him to cut off White House patronage from a few renegade Congressmen who opposed Cannon on a rule change,  followed orders.  

What connects the Joe Cannon of 1910 to John Boehner today, however, is not that Cannon was a bully.  Rather, it’s the opposite: that Cannon the autocrat ultimately fell on his face.

Congressman George W. Norris (R-Neb), leader
of the anti-Cannon uprising, circa 1913.

In March 1911, those abused junior members in Cannon’s caucus finally found the courage and strategy to rebel and strip Cannon of his leadership powers.  The revolt, led by young Nebraska congressman and future senator George W. Norris, played out in full public view, an unprecedented spectacle on the floor of Congress, a three-day parliamentary seige during which Cannon had to filibuster from the Speaker’s chair just to be heard.  In the end, Norris and his insurgents (they would later call themselves Progressives) succeeded in bringing down not just Cannon but also President Taft and an entire class of Washington’s old guard.


Congress was broken and dysfunctional in 1910 under Joe Cannon no less than today.  But that generation found a way to fix things.  By toppling Cannon in 1910, they demonstrated that old fashioned bosses could no longer rule the roost on Capitol Hill.  Since then, Speakers have had to walk on eggs, build support, and cater to all factions in their caucus.  

In short, John Boehner had it tougher than Joe Cannon.  Boehner never had the option (nor apparently any inclination) to be a bully, to strong-arm members of his caucus — even when they embarrassed him by balking at his key proposed to resolve the debt ceiling impasse.  Instead of twisting arms or buying support with earmarks, committee slots, or campaign cash, Boehner had to do the hard work of dealing with his Republicans — all of them — as adults, entitled to respect, listening to their concerns and addressing them.   It was not easy, and he did it gracefully. 


Whatever one thinks of the final Debt Ceiling deal (personally, not very much), I do give a hats off to John Boehner for living with the ghost of Joe Cannon.   Now, if only we could get Boehner to work with Democrats.  
 [So how did Joe Cannon bounce back from this personal black eye to the point that, just a few years later, Congress would name its Office Building after him?   More on that some other time…. ] 

DEBT CEILING hangover: A few final thoughts.

I, for one, am still hung over today after imbibing way too much intoxicating drama this week over Congress’s trying to avoid global fiscal calamity by raising the debt ceiling.

Now, at last, we have an exciting conclusion:  As of today, August 2, President Obama and Congress have reached a “deal” to raise the debt ceiling by about $2.4 trillion — enough to reach early 2013 and avoid default — in exchange for similarly-large budget cuts.  The House approved it yesterday by a vote of 269-161 and the US Senate approved it this morning.   

So calamity is avoided?  The job is done?  Is this not a big success ???

You wouldn’t think so.  All I see today are sour faces.  Nobody seems happy with the deal.  The Dow Jones Average is hardly soaring through the roof.  (It’s down 166 points at this moment.)    And all I hear are complaints — 


        (a) the process was so ugly;
        (b) Obama gave away the store;
        (c) the Tea Partiers were reckless hostage takers;
        (d) Congress was totally incompetent;
        (e) nobody cared about anyone but themselves;
        (f) the country was embarrassed, and the economy still stinks;
        (g) they turned school teachers, civil servants, and sick people into villains;       
        (h) the budget cuts are either (i) heartlessly draconian or (ii) fictitious and meaningless;
        (i) that the deal is so one-sided;
        (j) so on, (k) so forth, and (l) so on. 

[My personal favorite came from Cong. Emanual Cleaver (D-Mo.): “This is a sugar-coated satan sandwich.  If you lift the bun, you will not like what you see.”]

For me, I see three big things in the outcome, one good, two bad.  Unfortunately, at least to my eye this morning, the bad seems to overshadow the good, as follows– 

First the good news:

GOOD NEWS: The basic logic actually makes sense-

Two weeks ago, I urged a Grand Bargain on the budget by pointing to some history.  The USA has run up debts as high as today’s only twice before: during the Civil War in the 1860s and during World War II in the 1940s.  Each time, we dug our way out with a combination of (a) fiscal discipline, (b) a strong tax base, (c) economic growth, and (d) patience to stay the course for at least ten years.  (See DEBT CEILING crisis: History demands a “Grand Bargain.”)

The new debt ceiling “deal” actually gives us a good start in this direction:  It says, in effect, that any new borrowing by the US government must be matched dollar-for-dollar with reductions in future deficit spending.  Over time, if we stick to it, this approach could allow the US government to stabilize its borrowing (keep the hole from getting deeper) and ultimately balance its books.  And if we hold debt steady as the economy grows, then debt, over time, shrinks as a proportion.  A pretty good deal.
BAD NEWS 1:  It is unfair and unbalanced, making it likely to fall apart.

Unfortunartely, the debt ceiling “deal” is structured in a way that is bound to unravel.  Here why:

First, it is unfair on its face.  The package achieves all its deficit reduction from spending cuts, and none (literally not one cent) from tax increases.  This just doesn’t work.  The US tax system remains decimated by Bush-era cuts aimed primarily to benefit wealthy people and riddled with loopholes for select interest groups.  Tax collections today are as low levels not seen since the 1950s.  Failure to include any contribution from these groups is unfair and makes the whole approach unstable.   

Second, the mechanism included to address both tax and entitlement issues — a special Congressional Committee assigned to draft a $1.4 trillion deficit reduction plan by Thanksgiving, subject to a single up-or-down vote in Congress, backed by the threat of broad automatic cuts if it fails — is almost certain to fail.  Any attempt to include tax revenue in its package will threaten deadlock or rejection by House Republicans.  And if the plan includes no new tax revenue at all, then deadlock will come from the other side.  It’s that simple.  

And if the Special Committee’s plan fails and automatic cuts take effect — in January of a Presidential election year — then Congress sooner or later will find ways to avoid them, especially the military cuts.    

BAD NEWS 2: The precedent promises constant future turmoil.

Finally, we now have three recent examples of conservative Republicans creating artificial crises and using them to blackmail the Obama White House into making concessions on taxes and budget cuts:

  • The deal to extent the Bush tax cuts (December 2010: a 2-year extension in return for not cutting off unemployment insurance and for allowing a temporary reduction in payroll taxes);
  • The Continuing Resolution (April 2011: $30 billion in spending cuts in return for not closing the government); and
  • This week’s debt ceiling thriller.

This is a winning formula for budget-cutting Republicans, and the Obama White House has failed so far to figure out an effective response.  As a result, we can expect more

All of this means that, more likely than not, we will be back within a few months for the next crisis.  Next time, let’s plan ahead, push back, and not get saddled with a deal that gives us all a hangover.

DEBT CEILING crisis: Thomas Nast – Who drove the country into bankruptcy?

Thomas Nast drew the above cartoon for Harper’s Weekly in August 1871 as a slam against rampant graft by New York City’s political boss William M. Tweed.  Easily the most corrupt politician in American history, Tweed (the big fat man with the huge diamond chest pin in the drawing) and his circle stole an estimated $200 million from the city (billions in modern money) during their brief reign in power, a record that stands even today.  


The New York Times that summer of 1871 got its hands on a stolen copy of the Tweed Ring’s account books, which it published on its front page.  The disclosure — considered the newspaper Scoop of the Century back then –  demonstrated that huge thefts had taken place, but failed to connect them to individual names.  Nast, in his cartoon, simply asks: “Who Stole the People’s Money?” and every member of the Tammany Ring – Tweed, his top henchmen, city contractors, and the rest – points to the one next to him and his “Twas him.”  

Thomas Nast, the brilliant young artist whose Harpers Weekly
cartoons helped do in Boss Tweed’s political machine.
 

Ultimately, further detective work would trace the stolen money directly to Tweed’s personal bank account, and Tweed would spend much of his final years in various prisons.


All of which brings us to the humiliating spectacle being played out this week in the United States Congress, dragging the US literally to the brink of default by its failure to lift the technical debt ceiling before borrowing authority runs out on August 2.  This remarkable, breath-taking act of political incompetence — the question of who is right or wrong on the underlying policy issues became moot long ago — is a financial crime almost as bad as that of Tweed and his cronies.  A US default or credit downgrade will affect people across the country far more cruelly than anything Tweed did.  


Yet ask any of today’s political leaders about it, and the answer is the same:  Don’t blame me.  Somebody else did it.  It’s not my fault.


I think Tom Nast’s 1871 cartoon perfectly captures the situation in Washington, D.C. today, with a two minor changes:

  1. The caption should be:  “Who drove the country into bankruptcy? — Do tell.”
  2. And instead of Tweed and his Tammany cronies, the faces in the circle should include Obama, John Boehner, Harry Reid, Mitch McConnell, the Tea Party zealots, the media talking heads, Democrats and Republicans, Wall Street bankers, and don’t forget George W. Bush.

The fact is, today’s political crisis is everybody’s fault. They all did it together.  And now nobody takes responsibility.  (Though, as I write this on Friday morning, July 30, Senate leader Harry Reid (D-Nev) is trying to move a last-minute plan, after the House last night failed to pass Speaker John Boehner’s last attempt.) 


Sorry for the rant.  Hopefully the weekend will bring better news on this front.

CIVIL WAR: The “Great Skedaddle” — Union disaster, modern fitness event, or dumbing down history?

Re-enacters at Manassas, Virginia, for the 150 anniversary this past weekend.  The way a re-enactament should be.

Don’t get me wrong.  I love Civil War re-enactments.  A few thousand guys — fellow history fanatics — camping out on a summer weekend, with horses, explosions, cool uniforms and antique gear,  marching and charging, noise, gunpowder, celebrating the minutiae and deeper meanings of iconic events — all the good things about a war, and nobody gets hurt (except the occasional horse bite, twisted ankle, bad food reaction, or heat stress).


Can you imagine a better sign that two once-enemy peoples have buried the hatchet than being able to re-enact an old battle for the sheer fascination with history, legacy, and friendships?  Imagine a world, for instance, where some day Israelis and Egyptians might stage annual re-eactments of the Suez Canal crossings of the 1973 Yom Kippur War (Imagine the great gear for that!), then trade memorabilia and drink beers together over a campfire.  Then you’d know that true peace had really come to the Middle East. 

Stonewall Jackson and his Virginians turning the tide 
First Manassa, (Bull Run), July 21, 1861.  

The American Civil War is re-enactment heaven. We stage hundreds each year, especially here in Virginia, so rich in sites.  And this past weekend, the 150th anniversary of the first great Civil War battle — what Virginians call Manassas (for the town) and people up north call Bull Run (for the stream) — saw some of the best.


But even I had a swallow hard at seeing the strangest proposed event so far, what sponsors are calling The Great Skedaddle.  Scheduled for September 3, here’s how they describe it on their web site:  

 “The Great Skedaddle is a term used to describe the disorganized retreat of Union troops back to Washington after their unexpected defeat at the first Battle of Bull Run on July 21, 1861. We will commemorate this historic retreat along the Washington and Old Dominion Trail with a running, walking and biking event along the paved W&OD Trail.”  

Really?  A celebration of a disorganized retreat?  For the sake of a bicycle ride?  At $20 per ticket?


Some quick history:


Here’s the problem.  The battle of First Manassas (I’ll stick with the Virginia name) was the first large engagement of the Civil War, some 30,000 Union troops under recently-promoted Brigadier General Irvin McDowell facing some 30,000 Confederates under P.G.T. Beauregard  (McDowell’s West Point classmate) and Joe Johnston.  The war had barely just started, being just three months since South Carolinians had shelled Fort Sumter in Charleston Harbor.  McDowell personally felt his own quickly-assembled army not ready yet for a major fight, but political pressure for a quick Union victory pushed him into the field.  “You are green, it is true, but they are green also,” President Abe Lincoln assured him before the battle.


Washington socialites and politicians gleefully joined the excitement.  When McDowell and his army took the field in July 1861, many local big-shots followed in carriages, along with wives, girls friends, and gourmet picnic baskets.  They all expected a rousing good time, the exciting spectacle of a victory against disorganized rebels.  



Union soldiers and supplies fleeing the Manassas battlefield on 
July 21, 1861.  Painting by  William T. Trego. 

The two armies met on July 21 near what is now the Washington, D.C. suburb of Manassas, Virginia, a short drive out today’s traffic-clogged Route 66.   McDowell struck first, sending his soldiers, full of fight and idealism, across Bull Run creek to attack the confederate camp. 

Despite many missteps and miscommunications, McDowell’s troops took an early advantage.  But after hours of hard fighting, the tide began to turn.  Union soldiers, trying to press an advantage at one key point, came up against Confederate Brigadier General Thomas J. Jackson, a little-known former professor from VMI (Virginia Militray Institute), who lined up his Virginia troops and ordered them to hold.  “There is Jackson standing like a stone wall,” Confederate Bernard Bee famously shouted.   “Rally behind the Virginias.” 

And so they did.  Whether Bee meant it as insult or compliment is unclear — he died in the battle — but the “Stonewall” nicknamed stuck and Jackson emerged hero of the day.

The Union soldiers began an orderly retreat.  But when traffic clogged a stone bridge back across Bull Run Creek, fear turned to panic.  Many of the exhausted soldiers, having just faced combat for the first time in their lives, dropped their weapons and ran as bullets flew overahead and cannon continued to bellow.  Supply wagons clogged the roads, along with the civilian tourists and picnickers joining the retreat — which heightened the panic and disorder.  They all raced back in the direction of the Capitol, and had covered ten to fifteen miles before order could be restored.  

The name people attached to the spectacle — the Great Skedaddle — was no compliment.   

Dumbing it Down:

What the picnickling spectators expected to see at Bull Run that day in 1861 was something much like the re-enactors of 2011: a fine visual spectacle,full of pomp and glory.  Instead, the came face to face with war: terror, death, and live ammunition.   In the end, the two sides at First Manassas suffered over 5,000 casualties, including over 800 Union and Confederates soldiers killed in battle.   McDowell would be replaced as Union commander. 

The W&OD trail today.  Things are much calmer.



 The Great Skedaddle, that panicked retreat,  was a sober growing-up moment for North and South alike. It ended any hope on either side for a quick war, and any pretense that war might mean glory and spectacle rather than pain, fear, and death.   The enormous courage and commitment of soldiers north and south who pressed on over the next four years was made all the more eloquent after they had faced the reallity of terror on the road home from Manassas in July 1861.  

So what does it say about out modern understanding of the Civil War that this same Great Skedaddle would become a moment to emulate?  Not a exactly a re-enactment, rather an excuse for theme-based outdoor exercise?    Yes, today’s W&OD bicycle trail — built on the old Washington & Old Dominion railroad track bed — approximately was the scene of much of the retreat, but that’s not exactly the point.

On one level, I suppose some of the soldiers from 1861 might be touched to know they risked their lives so that some couch potato 150 years in the future might stand up and turn off the TV for a few hours and get some exercise.  On balance, though, the Great Skedaddle gets my award for most dumbed-down history of summer 2011.
Again, don’t get me wrong.  Let’s have bike rides galore on Virginia’s beautiful trails.  But please, a different name.  Or, if you must (I admit, the name is kind of cute), then maybe another story?



CONTEST: Debt Ceiling Russian Roulette !!

Cartoon by Marshall Ramsey of Creators Syndicate.



Just when you think Washington can’t screw it up any worse…..  


For weeks, as the Capitol has consumed itself in its summer tragi-comic fire drill to raise the debt ceiling, expert after expert has come forward with cataclysmic predictions that if the USA actually does end up defaulting on its $14.3 trillion debt on or about August 2 — the current target — financial markets will implode.  Investors will dump American stocks and bonds and send the country careening into fiscal chaos, a depression worse than the 1930s.  Are they right? 


Unfortunately, with President Obama, Speaker Boehner, and the other Capitol Hill leaders apparently incapable either of solving the puzzle or trusting each other with a deal, it now looks increasingly like we’re going to find out. 


So while the rest of the country faces calamity, we at Viral History have decided to mark this truly historic moment with a contest.  We call it Debt Ceiling Russian Roulette


See if you are any smarter than the Washington politicians and TV expertsTo enter Debt Ceiling Russian Roulette, just post a comment on this Blog telling us what you think will happen to the Dow Jones Industrial Average on August 2, 2011, the day of the expected default (or August 3 if the US Treasury waits until after markets close on the 2nd to announce the default – or lack thereof).  Will the Dow Jones —

  • Crash as global investors dump American assets, like the experts say?  If you think so, tell how how many points you think it will lose.  Hundreds?  Thousands?   
  • Soar through the ceiling as Congress and Obama reach a surprise last-minute deal?  If so, how high?
  • Stay relatively flat as investors either shrug at the latest boneheaded news from Washington or wait for other shoes to drop?  or
  • Rally, having collapsed in the days beforehand, staging a technical “dead cat bounce”?  

The entry closest to the actual number (points up or down on the Dow Jones for the day) wins.  If there’s a tie, victory goes to the earlier entry.  So don’t dawdle.  No entries will be accepted after midnight, August 1. 



My own guess is that Wall Street will shrug at first, and the real ugly crash will come later in the week when overseas markets panic.  So my official entry is this: Dow Jones +12.


Enter today.  And tell your friends.  It’s free (as all speech in America should be), and the winner will receive a bottle of wine from us. 
  
[In the increasingly unlikely event they agree to raise the debt limit before the weekend, ending the crisis and making this contest moot, we’ll give a tepid half cheer and call the whole thing off.] 

Meanwhile, enjoy the hot summer weather.   

GUEST BLOGGER: Amy Arden on Buck Taylor, the original Cowboy Hero

One of the many books, pamphlets, and dime novels featuring Taylor during the 1880s.


Western history buffs easily recognize the name “Buffalo” Bill Cody, the soldier-turned-showman who transformed the American frontier from remote hinterland to popular entertainment. But the star of Buffalo Bill’s Wild West—really America’s first cowboy celebrity—remains relatively obscure, despite a biography nearly as colorful.

Buck Taylor, the handsome, physical cowpoke
during his height as Buffalo Bills star performer.
William Levi Taylor, better known as “Buck,” probably born in Texas in 1857, was orphaned at a young age.  Buck taught himself to ride and found work on ranches, eventually making his way to Nebraska. Here, he met Buffalo Bill, who saw something promising in the strapping young Texas and began grooming him for performance.

At 6’ 3”, Buck Taylor towered over most men, with his thick, shoulder-length brown hair and handsome features. A reporter for New York Daily Tribune, seeing Buck standing alongside Buffalo Bill and a show manager in early 1887, desccibed them this way:  “Three fine specimens of American manhood stood together yesterday in the cafe of the Hoffman House and attracted a great deal of attention. Their marked physiques alone would have insured notice.”
            
Buck Tayler was no actor.   He had a wooden presence on stage and got poor reviews in the 1880s when Buffalo Bill asked him to fill in for him in the title role of a Western-themed play he’d written for himself called The Prairie Waif

Buffalo Bill Cody, writer, actor, showman,
promoter, entrepreneur, creator of the highly
profitable Wild West Show.
            Nevertheless, Buck Taylor delighted crowds in the arena, showing off his riding and roping and even a form of square-dancing on horseback. Buffalo Bill dubbed him “The King of the Cowboys.”  He attracted fans, reporters, and, during a European tour, even the British prime minister, who dropped by to say hello during one of the show’s stopovers in London.  Prentiss Ingraham, who authored scores of dime novels back then, made Taylor the hero of numerous cowboys-and-Indians yarns with colorful titles such as Buck Taylor, the Saddle King; The Lasso King’s League; The Cowboy Clan; Buck Taylor, the Comanche Captive, and Buck Taylor’s Boys or The Red Riders of the Rio Grande. Ingraham freely invented scenes and dialogues that burnished Taylor’s legend while paying scant attention to historical fact. 

            Buck Taylor left the Wild West show around 1890 and bought a ranch in Wyoming.  Later he tried to start his own Western show, but it soon failed.

            Even after retirement, Buck stayed in the public eye.  He spawned an impersonator, a man whose real name was Barry Tatum. Tatum (as Taylor) campaigned for Theodore Roosevelt during Roosevelt’s 1898 campaign to be governor of New York State, and, even more bizarrely, appeared in advertisements for Peruna cough syrup in the Buck Taylor guise. The two men became so confused that when Tatum died in 1900, several newspapers, including The New York Times, believed he actually was Buck Taylor and ran erroneous obituaries.
     
       The real Buck Taylor spent his old age as a farmer in Pennsylvania, where he died in 1924 and was famous among the locals for wearing a sombrero.  There is yet another Buck Taylor, the actor Walter Clarence aka “Buck” Taylor, best known for his appearances on Gunsmoke.
Amy Arden is a Washington, D.C.-based writer and first discovered Buck Taylor at the Library of Congress.  She has been following his trail ever since.

HISTORY: GUEST NOTE: Robin Rausch on the Library of Congress’s National Jukebox

One of the many very cool tune collections on this new LC site.

Hey Ken!

I wanted to call your attention to the National Jukebox project at the Library of Congress.   Launched in May, the National Jukebox is a collaboration between the Library of Congress and Sony Music Entertainment.   The new website features over 10,000 rare historic sound recordings produced between 1901 and 1925 by the Victor Talking Machine Co.

While most of it is music, there is a “spoken word” category that includes speeches by William Howard Taft, Woodrow Wilson, Theodore Roosevelt, and Warren G. Harding.   Thought your readers of Viral History might like to take it for a spin: http://www.loc.gov/jukebox/.   Click on “genres” on the left to locate the spoken word recordings.

Hope you’re having a great summer.

Best,   Robin


Robin Rausch is a writer and Senior Music Specialist at the Library of Congress.


I checked this out and found amazing things: Ragtime, Yiddish theatre, old banjo bluegrass and blues, politicians and comedians in dozens of languages.  Some were scratchy, clearly recorded from old 78 rpm records, but that just adds to the sense of time.  My favorite was a 1912 recording of Theodore Roosevelt ranting against big business bosses: Here’s the link.  All best. -KA