An Ohio Farmer

This honor comes to me unsought. I have never had the Presidential fever; not even for a day. - James A. Garfield

I’m reading The Destiny of the Republic: A Tale of Madness, Medicine and the Murder of a President (Millard, Candice, 2011, Random House, Inc., Kindle Edition) and have found, I believe, a new hero.

Beyond contemplation of a certain lasagna loving cat, the name Garfield wasn’t much more than a vague memory in the list of American presidents. I don’t ever recall the nuns highlighting him during grade school history (of course, to the good sisters of the IHM, the only president of note was John Kennedy).

So far, Millard has woven a quite enjoyable historical novel that puts the era in context – noting Alexander Graham Bell’s problems with usurping lawsuits challenging his telephone’s patent and Joseph Lister’s frustration with the dismissal of his discovery of the critical importance of antisepsis – preventing infection by killing germs.

Also, well-chronicled is the journey into derangement of Garfield’s assassin, Charles Guiteau. Some highlights: Guiteau had been a student at the University of Michigan before leaving for Oneida – a socialistic commune established in 1848 in New York where shared labor and open marriage were promoted (according to Millard, Guiteau was profoundly disappointed that his overtures to others’ wives were rebuffed regularly!). There is even a reference to Guiteau eluding pending prosecution by jumping off a train in Ypsilanti, Michigan – just down the road from the farm.

The best surprise is the narrative that profiles Garfield – born into abject poverty (he didn’t own shoes before age four) and working as a janitor to put himself through school and eventually leading his class and put into service teaching. He argued a single case as an attorney – before the Supreme Court, no less – and won. Additionally, he commanded a key battle during the Civil War that secured Kentucky for the Union forces. From the book:

In the end, the struggle for Kentucky’s allegiance came down to a single, seminal battle—the Battle of Middle Creek—and a military strategy that some would call brilliant, others audacious. In January of 1862, after weeks of marching through fog and mud, shivering under thin blankets in snow and sleet, and surviving largely on whatever could be found in the countryside, the 42nd finally reached Marshall’s men. Despite the Confederate force’s size and artillery, Garfield refused to wait for additional troops. Instead, he divided his already small regiment into three even smaller groups. The plan was to attack the rebels from three different sides, thus giving the impression, Garfield hoped, of a regiment that was much larger and better equipped than his.

Incredibly, Marshall believed everything Garfield wanted him to, and more. When Garfield’s first detachment attacked, the Confederates, as expected, confidently rushed to meet them. Then a second force fell upon the rebels from a different direction, throwing them into disarray and confusion. Just as they were beginning to figure out how to fight on two fronts, Garfield attacked on a third. “The [Confederate] regiment and battery were hurried frantically from one road to another,” recalled a young private, “as the point of attack seemed to be changed.” Finally, convinced that a “mighty army”—a force of four thousand men with “five full regiments of infantry, 200 cavalry, and two batteries of artillery”—had surrounded him, Marshall ordered his men to retreat, leaving Kentucky solidly in Union hands (p.25).

Also moving is the scene at the 1880 Republican Convention in Chicago where Garfield makes the nomination speech of fellow Ohio Senator John Sherman, General William Tecumseh Sherman’s younger brother and secretary of the treasury under Rutherford B. Hayes. Garfield is ill at ease with the entire convention but manages to deliver a most eloquent nomination speech that astonished the delegates. Much to Garfield’s chagrin, however, the eventual impasse of multiple votes among Sherman, former president Ulysses S. Grant, and Maine’s Senator James G. Blaine ends up with a groundswell that awards the nomination to Garfield.

Millard further profiles a most reluctant candidate who eventually wins the presidency with over 70% of the electorate voting. I’ll let you read (as Paul Harvey might have said) “the rest of the story.”

A couple of thoughts: would that current candidates have such humility and record of service and would that the voting public turn out in such numbers.  Huh.