Mr. Double Hockey Sticks

There are always attempts to rank the presidents, according to any number of criteria: effectiveness, legacy, corruptness, efficiency. And while every historian brings his or her own set of biases to the table, and public opinion polls reveal more about the present than they do history (I recall one a few years ago that had both Clinton and Bush II in the top ten, an indicator of partisan battle if ever one existed), surely we can all agree on one thing:

The next three presidents were awful.

To this point, I'd managed to find copies of each biography in my public library. Since I'd relied on them for the Madison and Monroe biographies (and been unimpressed by them), I've tried to steer away from the Schlesinger series. Up until Taylor, that hadn't been a problem. But Millard Fillmore? Apart from the Schlesinger, the only other biography of the 13th President was a half-joking one.

So it was off to the university's library to find a suitable book, which turned out to be Robert Rayback's Millard Fillmore: Biography of a President, published in 1959. Is it a good biography of Fillmore? I suppose so. I finished it with a pretty decent idea of who Fillmore was, why he acted the way he did, and what effect the New York political system had on both the Democrats and Whigs. But is it a good biography, compulsively readable in the way that John Adams was? No. And yet, it was to be the best presidential biography I would read in the next three months.

Here's the problem with Presidents 13-15: they're so dedicated to keeping the Union together that they do anything it takes to appease everyone. They're called 'doughfaces," because they change their countenances to suit everyone. They hold back the dam of the Union, trying to avoid a flood of secession from bursting out; when it does, ten years after Fillmore takes office, he and his successors are swept away in it.


As a result, the histories of this time are one of compromises, and it's Fillmore who's in office when the 1850 Compromise is made into law. In fact, it's Fillmore's presidency that makes the 1850 Compromise easier to pass, as the slave-holding Taylor was, oddly, against extending slavery into the southwest. Fillmore, however, has no compunctions against appeasing the South by extending slavery.

Five things happen in the Compromise of 1850:

1. California joins the Union as a free state.
2. The slave trade (but not slavery) is abolished in the District of Columbia.
3. Utah and New Mexico Territories are organized under the rule of popular sovereignty, meaning that they'd get to decide about slavery themselves.
4. Texas gives up its claim to some western lands in exchange for $10,000,000 with which to pay off its national debt, accrued while it was an independent nation.
5. The Fugitive Slave Act is passed.

If you know about the Compromise of 1850, it's probably this last part, which polarizes the nation further, and ties James Buchanan's hands when the South secedes in 1860. If you're pro-Fillmore, you argue that he managed to stave off war for ten more years. If you're anti-Fillmore, you argue that he didn't do anything but manage to stave off war for another ten years. It's a rough time to be president.

So rough, in fact, that in 1852, Fillmore can't even get nominated for a second term as president--northern Whigs block him for signing the Fugitive Slave Act and Winfield Scott runs instead. But like Martin van Buren, Fillmore takes one more shot at being president; in 1856, he runs on the Know-Nothing ticket as the candidate of a nativist party that's staunchly against the influx of immigrants, mostly Irish and German, who are coming into the country. He loses.

I have no idea why you'd ever talk about Fillmore at a party, but here's something:

"Millard Fillmore? Well, he's the only president who has double consonants in both his first and last name. Beyond that, he serves as a good warning for parties that campaign on fear, as Fillmore did, warning the populace against Irish immigrants who would take their orders from Rome instead of DC. You can't just be against something--you have to do something, too."

Flipping the Whigs

You have to feel a little sorry for the Whigs when it comes to their presidents. They win two elections (in 1840 and 1848) by putting forward popular military heroes; not one, but both of those General-Presidents die in their first terms, leaving behind Vice-Presidents who are less than faithful to the Whig cause. William Henry Harrison's the first Whig President; his successor, John Tyler, is literally expelled from the Whig Party. And Zachary Taylor, Old Rough and Ready, is the second, and K. Jack Bauer chronicles his life in Zachary Taylor: Solder, Planter, Statesman of the Old Southwest.

Unlike Harrison, who had significant government experience as the governor of Indiana Territory, Taylor has no experience in the world of politics until he moves into 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue. In a time when the Presidency is still something that no candidate claims to want (although reading these biographies, one realizes that they all wanted it so very badly), Taylor manages to be so tight-lipped about his beliefs that both the Whigs and the Democrats think he'd be a viable candidate for their party. Hell, until the election he's in, he doesn't even vote.

Taylor's famous because of his experience in the recently finished and wildly successful Mexican-American War. While it's Winfield Scott who manages to capture Mexico City, Taylor leads the American forces at Buena Vista and routs Santa Anna's 25,000 strong force with a mostly volunteer force of about 4,500. It's the last major victory in northern Mexico, and afterwards, Taylor leaves the war to pursue a political career.

As far as his presidency, goes...well. He's more notable for certain facts more than anything: last Southern President until Lyndon Johnson (!!!), last President to own slaves while in office. He's President when the Compromise of 1850 is being worked out under Henry Clay's leadership, but he dies before it's passed (accordingly, we'll save the Compromise for Millard Fillmore).

There's an interesting postscript to Taylor's story. He's killed by some cherries and milk that he eats during a Fourth of July celebration in DC; it's hot, and he gets cholera from them, dying five days later. But some historians dispute this, and think he was poisoned with arsenic because, most likely, of his moderate stance on slavery. In 1991, with the approval of his descendants and the Jefferson County (Kentucky) coroner, Taylor's body was exhumed and samples taken of hair, fingernails, and tissue. The results showed arsenic levels far too low to have poisoned the President.

Bauer's book is published in 1985, and that's the most recent of the next four books. There's a distinct lack of contemporary biographies about the presidents between Polk and Lincoln. There might be a reason for that.

Here's your party speech about Taylor: "America has often looked to military success for its presidents, and often, they've been successful: Washington, Jackson, Teddy Roosevelt, Eisenhower. But Zachary Taylor? Well, he might have managed to use artillery to overcome a massive Mexican force, but he couldn't use grapeshot on Senators like Henry Clay, Daniel Webster, and Stephen Douglas. I get the feeling that had he been a more successful president, more of a fuss would have been raised over exhuming him, but, as it were, no one gave too much of a damn about one of our least successful presidents, a man felled by bad fruit."

And something to file under "Encounters with Future Leaders": During the Mexican-American War, Taylor is frequently escorted by the Mississippi Rifles, a group of soldiers led by Colonel Jefferson Davis. Davis marries Taylor's daughter, Sarah Knox Taylor, despite ZT's wishes, but she dies just three months later (what is it with the Taylor family and dying unexpectedly?). Davis goes on to be Pierce's Secretary of War, and then, as far as I can tell, he disappears from politics.