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Monday, December 6, 2010
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
The story behind Lincoln's first biography
Chester County holds a unique place in the annals of Lincoln lore. Indeed, the first biography of our 16th president was published in West Chester on February 11th, 1860, by the Chester County Times, a local Republican weekly that was owned by Samuel Downing and located at 14 W. Market Street.
At the time, 14 W. Market was known as the Everhart Building. Today, the building is numbered 28 W. Market, and is named the Lincoln Building.
The story behind why Lincoln's biography was published in West Chester is nothing short of remarkable. One of Lincoln's friends in Illinois was Jesse W. Fell, a native of Chester County who settled in Illinois in 1835. Fell met Lincoln while the two were staying at the same boarding house, and they struck up a lifelong friendship.
In 1858, when Lincoln ran for senate against Senator Stephen Douglas, Fell urged him to debate Douglas over the senator's signature piece of legislation, the Kansas-Nebraska Act. Lincoln thought the idea was a good one, and he challenged Douglas to a series of debates. Douglas accepted, and during the summer and fall of 1858, Lincoln and Douglas sparred over the Kansas-Nebraska Act in a series of now legendary public exchanges known as the “Lincoln-Douglas debates.”
When Lincoln started being mentioned as a candidate for president in 1860, Fell worried that his friend, still unknown outside of Illinois, would have trouble getting votes back East. He and an Illinois newspaper publisher named Edward Lewis urged Lincoln to write some autobiographical notes that could be used to introduce him as a candidate for president to Eastern voters.
"I was born February 12, 1809, in Hardin County, KY. My parents were born in Virginia, of undistinguished families -- second families, perhaps I should say. My mother, who died in my tenth year, was of a family of the name of Hanks, some whom now reside in Adams and others in Macon Counties, Ill."
"My paternal grandfather, Abraham Lincoln, emigrated from Rockingham County, Va., to Kentucky, about 1781 or '82, where, a year or two later, he was killed by Indians, not in battle, but by stealth, when he was laboring to open a farm in the forest. His ancestors, who were Quakers, went to Virginia from Berks County, Pa.. An effort to identify them with the New England family of the same name ended in nothing more than a similarity of Christian names in both families, such as Enoch, Levi, Mordecai, Solomon, Abraham and the like."
"My father, at the death of his father, was but six years of age, and he grew up literally without education. He removed from Kentucky to what is now Spencer County, Ind., in my eighth year. We reached our new home about the time the State came into the Union. It was a wild region, with many bears and other wild animals still in the woods. There I grew up. There were some schools, so called, but no qualification was ever required of a teacher beyond "readin', writin' and cipherin'" to the Rule of Three. If a straggler supposed to understand Latin happened to sojourn in the neighborhood, he was looked upon as a wizard. There was absolutely nothing to excite ambition for education."
"Of course when I came of age I did not know much. Still, somehow, I could read, write and cipher to the Rule of Three, but that was all. I have not been to school since. The little advance I now have upon this store of education I have picked up from time to time under the pressure of necessity."
"I was raised to farm-work, which I continued till I was twenty-two. At twenty-one I came to Illinois, and passed the first year in Macon County. Then I got to New Salem, at that time in Sangamon, now in Menard, County, where I remained a year as a sort of clerk in a store. Then came the Black Hawk War, and I was elected a captain of volunteers -- a success which gave me more pleasure than any I have had since. I went through the campaign, ran for the Legislature the same year (1832), and was beaten -- the only time I have ever been beaten by the people. The next and three succeeding biennial elections I was elected to the Legislature. I was not a candidate afterwards. During this legislative period I had studied law, and removed to Springfield to practice it. In 1846 I was once elected to the Lower House of Congress, but was not a candidate for re-election. From 1849-1854, both inclusive, practiced law more assiduously than ever before. Always a Whig in politics, and generally on the Whig electoral tickets, making active canvasses. I was losing interest in politics, when the repeal of the Missouri Compromise aroused me again. What I have done since then is pretty well known."
"If any personal description of me is thought desirable, it may be said, I am, in height, six feet four inches nearly; lean in flesh, weighing, on an average, one hundred and eighty pounds; dark complexion, with coarse black hair, and gray eyes. No other marks or brands recollected."
Yours very truly,
A. Lincoln
At the time, 14 W. Market was known as the Everhart Building. Today, the building is numbered 28 W. Market, and is named the Lincoln Building.
The story behind why Lincoln's biography was published in West Chester is nothing short of remarkable. One of Lincoln's friends in Illinois was Jesse W. Fell, a native of Chester County who settled in Illinois in 1835. Fell met Lincoln while the two were staying at the same boarding house, and they struck up a lifelong friendship.
In 1858, when Lincoln ran for senate against Senator Stephen Douglas, Fell urged him to debate Douglas over the senator's signature piece of legislation, the Kansas-Nebraska Act. Lincoln thought the idea was a good one, and he challenged Douglas to a series of debates. Douglas accepted, and during the summer and fall of 1858, Lincoln and Douglas sparred over the Kansas-Nebraska Act in a series of now legendary public exchanges known as the “Lincoln-Douglas debates.”
When Lincoln started being mentioned as a candidate for president in 1860, Fell worried that his friend, still unknown outside of Illinois, would have trouble getting votes back East. He and an Illinois newspaper publisher named Edward Lewis urged Lincoln to write some autobiographical notes that could be used to introduce him as a candidate for president to Eastern voters.
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| The Lincoln Building |
Lewis's brother, Joseph J. Lewis, was a prominent attorney who lived in West Chester, and was well-known for his antislavery views. His office was located at the Everhart Building, which as the reader will recall, also housed the Chester County Times, owned by Samuel Downing.
Sometime in early 1860, Joseph Lewis and Downing received a three-page, handwritten biographical sketch from Abraham Lincoln. The sketch was used as the primary source material for the biography.
Sometime in early 1860, Joseph Lewis and Downing received a three-page, handwritten biographical sketch from Abraham Lincoln. The sketch was used as the primary source material for the biography.
Lincoln's original notes to Lewis and Downing read as follows:
"I was born February 12, 1809, in Hardin County, KY. My parents were born in Virginia, of undistinguished families -- second families, perhaps I should say. My mother, who died in my tenth year, was of a family of the name of Hanks, some whom now reside in Adams and others in Macon Counties, Ill."
"My paternal grandfather, Abraham Lincoln, emigrated from Rockingham County, Va., to Kentucky, about 1781 or '82, where, a year or two later, he was killed by Indians, not in battle, but by stealth, when he was laboring to open a farm in the forest. His ancestors, who were Quakers, went to Virginia from Berks County, Pa.. An effort to identify them with the New England family of the same name ended in nothing more than a similarity of Christian names in both families, such as Enoch, Levi, Mordecai, Solomon, Abraham and the like."
"My father, at the death of his father, was but six years of age, and he grew up literally without education. He removed from Kentucky to what is now Spencer County, Ind., in my eighth year. We reached our new home about the time the State came into the Union. It was a wild region, with many bears and other wild animals still in the woods. There I grew up. There were some schools, so called, but no qualification was ever required of a teacher beyond "readin', writin' and cipherin'" to the Rule of Three. If a straggler supposed to understand Latin happened to sojourn in the neighborhood, he was looked upon as a wizard. There was absolutely nothing to excite ambition for education."
"Of course when I came of age I did not know much. Still, somehow, I could read, write and cipher to the Rule of Three, but that was all. I have not been to school since. The little advance I now have upon this store of education I have picked up from time to time under the pressure of necessity."
"I was raised to farm-work, which I continued till I was twenty-two. At twenty-one I came to Illinois, and passed the first year in Macon County. Then I got to New Salem, at that time in Sangamon, now in Menard, County, where I remained a year as a sort of clerk in a store. Then came the Black Hawk War, and I was elected a captain of volunteers -- a success which gave me more pleasure than any I have had since. I went through the campaign, ran for the Legislature the same year (1832), and was beaten -- the only time I have ever been beaten by the people. The next and three succeeding biennial elections I was elected to the Legislature. I was not a candidate afterwards. During this legislative period I had studied law, and removed to Springfield to practice it. In 1846 I was once elected to the Lower House of Congress, but was not a candidate for re-election. From 1849-1854, both inclusive, practiced law more assiduously than ever before. Always a Whig in politics, and generally on the Whig electoral tickets, making active canvasses. I was losing interest in politics, when the repeal of the Missouri Compromise aroused me again. What I have done since then is pretty well known."
"If any personal description of me is thought desirable, it may be said, I am, in height, six feet four inches nearly; lean in flesh, weighing, on an average, one hundred and eighty pounds; dark complexion, with coarse black hair, and gray eyes. No other marks or brands recollected."
Yours very truly,
A. Lincoln
Monday, October 18, 2010
I'm Abraham Lincoln, and I approved this message.
As we approach the 150th anniversary of the election of 1860, it's natural to wonder how Lincoln would fare in the age of modern politics. One can only imagine how the great man, who preferred using reason rather than emotion to persuade voters, would have navigated the current political landscape. Can you imagine him using focus groups, taking polls, and running attack ads? Just picture it-Lincoln, after implying that his opponent didn't pay Social Security taxes on a nanny that was here illegally, sent racy text messages to a young campaign staffer, and was in the pockets of teacher's unions, ends the ad with the words "I'm Abraham Lincoln, and I approved this message," spoken in a sharp, Kentucky backwoodsman twang that would grate on the ears of voters today like fingernails going down a chalkboard.
It's interesting to consider how Lincoln would fare in today's political climate, but to some extent it's a naive exercise, as he created key elements of it. For example, image-making is perhaps the most important component of modern politics, and Lincoln was a shrewd practitioner of the craft. Indeed, by allowing his people to market him not as an established railroad attorney, but the "rail splitter" during the election of 1860, Lincoln sent a clear message to the voters- that he was not afraid to role up his sleeves and confront the issues then tearing at the fabric of American democracy.
Perhaps Lincoln's greatest contribution to the practice of political image-making was his pioneering use of visual imagery. For example, he was the first president to make extensive use of photography, using that medium to portray himself as a resolute commander-in-chief during the dark days of the Civil War. Indeed, when looking at the picture of steely resolve above, one gains a new appreciation for the cliche "the medium is the message," and voters got the message-that Lincoln meant to win the war, preserve the Union, and bear witness to a "new birth of freedom," loud and clear.
Perhaps Lincoln's greatest contribution to the practice of political image-making was his pioneering use of visual imagery. For example, he was the first president to make extensive use of photography, using that medium to portray himself as a resolute commander-in-chief during the dark days of the Civil War. Indeed, when looking at the picture of steely resolve above, one gains a new appreciation for the cliche "the medium is the message," and voters got the message-that Lincoln meant to win the war, preserve the Union, and bear witness to a "new birth of freedom," loud and clear.
Friday, September 24, 2010
Brandywine reflections
I recently visited Brandywine Battlefield State Park while doing some research for an article I wrote about the Revolutionary War. I had not been there since I was a small child, and I didn't have any clear memories of the place. Just some fleeting impressions of running through tall grass, games of badminton, and images of children playing in dappled sunlight beneath a stand of trees on a lost summer's day.
Of course, the paucity of my recollection should come as no surprise, as the mind's eye is limited in terms of the visual impressions it can conjure from childhood. However, mental images of relatively poor quality are typical not just of early childhood memories, but usually memories in general. As evidence of the relatively weak powers of visual memory, one need only compare its faded stores, faintly traced in the mind's eye by withering neural pathways, to the limpidness of perception in the here and now.
While the clarity of perception stands in contrast to the haziness of visual memory, under certain circumstances, there is something of a subjective fusion between the realms of remembering and perceiving, and the two psychological domains, normally so distinct to us, are bridged by a point of contact provided by sensory impressions. A common example of this can be found when looking at your reflection in the water; the image, usually soft and blurred, is not a faded memory trace, but an immediate sensory impression gathered by your eyes. And yet, the reflection seems to resemble not a perception, but a memory, with many of the hazy impressions that characterize the mind's attempt to travel backwards in the 4th dimension.
I cannot count among my remembrances of childhood visits to Brandywine Battlefield any memories of looking at my reflection in the Brandywine River. I seem to have dull impressions of rocks and rushing black water, but the haze of childhood anamnesis makes it difficult to know if these are memories of the Brandywine or someplace else. At any rate, at that age the appearance of one's reflection in the water likely creates nothing more than a whirling eddy of curiosity in a child's stream of consciousness.
Of course, the paucity of my recollection should come as no surprise, as the mind's eye is limited in terms of the visual impressions it can conjure from childhood. However, mental images of relatively poor quality are typical not just of early childhood memories, but usually memories in general. As evidence of the relatively weak powers of visual memory, one need only compare its faded stores, faintly traced in the mind's eye by withering neural pathways, to the limpidness of perception in the here and now.
While the clarity of perception stands in contrast to the haziness of visual memory, under certain circumstances, there is something of a subjective fusion between the realms of remembering and perceiving, and the two psychological domains, normally so distinct to us, are bridged by a point of contact provided by sensory impressions. A common example of this can be found when looking at your reflection in the water; the image, usually soft and blurred, is not a faded memory trace, but an immediate sensory impression gathered by your eyes. And yet, the reflection seems to resemble not a perception, but a memory, with many of the hazy impressions that characterize the mind's attempt to travel backwards in the 4th dimension.
I imagine, however, that for many of the American and British soldiers, scouting the banks of the river on a hot day in September of 1777, seeing their reflection in the water produced a deeper experience. They were, no doubt, acutely aware of their own mortality, and I wonder how many of them, when they stopped along the banks of the Brandywine for a drink, paused when they saw their dull image in the glassy surface of the water. They must have wondered if they would soon cross a threshold from the realm of the living to that of the remembered, where all of us will reside one day as faded sketches, until these too are washed away by the inexorable river of time.
Sunday, August 8, 2010
The life of Ben- change
It goes without saying that change is a part of life...
Sometimes change is thrust upon us, even if we didn't want it. And sometimes it forces us to live in ways we wouldn't choose to live. This kind of change, whether it be for better or worse, is beyond our control, and treats us like inanimate objects, buffeted about like dead leaves by the gales of fortune.
Though change is sometimes forced upon us, there is another kind of change. There is change that we choose. We can choose to change many things about our lives. We can even choose change ourselves. Indeed, if , as some suggest, life is a play in a series of acts, are we not free to change character, costume, careers, or anything else, as we run the gamut from the opening to the drawing of the curtain?
On the world stage, few have been as adept at changing themselves as Ben Franklin- the young man who left Boston and came to Philadelphia with only a few pennies in his pocket; the entrepreneur turned scientist who sold his business to investigate the wonders of electricity; the loyal subject of the English Crown who became a statesman and helped found a nation.
Indeed, Franklin's life reads as a virtual case study in how to reinvent oneself. Throughout his long and productive life, he did so time and time again. He was able to do this at least in part because he possessed a wide array of talents, but there was another crucial element in his self-actualization. Courage. He wasn't afraid to try new things. He didn't run from life. He started new businesses when there was certainly no guarantee of success. He began experimenting with electricity when the greatest minds in Europe had failed to understand its fundamental properties. And he signed a document of rebellion against the King of England knowing that if the revolution failed, he would be hanged and remembered not as a statesman and founding father, but a traitor.
So, no matter which way the winds of fortune may blow, don't be afraid to change yourself. Instead, fear the stagnation that comes with a safe and unchanging life, for as Poor Richard once noted, "When you're finished changing, you're finished."
Never stop reinventing yourself. Just one of the many things you can learn by studying the life of Ben.
Sometimes change is thrust upon us, even if we didn't want it. And sometimes it forces us to live in ways we wouldn't choose to live. This kind of change, whether it be for better or worse, is beyond our control, and treats us like inanimate objects, buffeted about like dead leaves by the gales of fortune.
Though change is sometimes forced upon us, there is another kind of change. There is change that we choose. We can choose to change many things about our lives. We can even choose change ourselves. Indeed, if , as some suggest, life is a play in a series of acts, are we not free to change character, costume, careers, or anything else, as we run the gamut from the opening to the drawing of the curtain?
Indeed, Franklin's life reads as a virtual case study in how to reinvent oneself. Throughout his long and productive life, he did so time and time again. He was able to do this at least in part because he possessed a wide array of talents, but there was another crucial element in his self-actualization. Courage. He wasn't afraid to try new things. He didn't run from life. He started new businesses when there was certainly no guarantee of success. He began experimenting with electricity when the greatest minds in Europe had failed to understand its fundamental properties. And he signed a document of rebellion against the King of England knowing that if the revolution failed, he would be hanged and remembered not as a statesman and founding father, but a traitor.
So, no matter which way the winds of fortune may blow, don't be afraid to change yourself. Instead, fear the stagnation that comes with a safe and unchanging life, for as Poor Richard once noted, "When you're finished changing, you're finished."
Never stop reinventing yourself. Just one of the many things you can learn by studying the life of Ben.
Sunday, July 25, 2010
The life of Ben-networking
I don't know about you, but I was always kind of embarrassed by the idea of networking. It seems like such a shameless and vain attempt at self-promotion. But then I learned a bit of wisdom by studying the life of Ben.
Franklin was a social, indeed gregarious man. He had many friends, and they were from all walks of life. For example, his philosophical discussion group the Junto consisted of cabinet makers, clerks, and cobblers.
According to Wikipedia, the Junto was rooted in the concept of "mutual improvement." Its members were expected to exchange information about politics, morality, philosophy, and business management.
Great things came from the Junto. This group later became the American Philosophical Society. The statue of Franklin shown above adorns the building that houses that great organization.
As Franklin showed through the creation of the Junto, networking doesn't just have to be about self-promotion. It can also be used to promote the common good. It can be used to promote friends, their ideas, and the things you care about.
Learning about Franklin and the Junto made me realize that I had networking all wrong. It's not just about me. It's about the things and people I believe in.
Networking for the common good. One of the many things you can learn by studying the life of Ben.
According to Wikipedia, the Junto was rooted in the concept of "mutual improvement." Its members were expected to exchange information about politics, morality, philosophy, and business management.
Great things came from the Junto. This group later became the American Philosophical Society. The statue of Franklin shown above adorns the building that houses that great organization.
As Franklin showed through the creation of the Junto, networking doesn't just have to be about self-promotion. It can also be used to promote the common good. It can be used to promote friends, their ideas, and the things you care about.
Learning about Franklin and the Junto made me realize that I had networking all wrong. It's not just about me. It's about the things and people I believe in.
Networking for the common good. One of the many things you can learn by studying the life of Ben.
Thursday, July 1, 2010
The crimes, follies, and misfortunes of Chester County - John Harper vs. a sow pig
A lawyer friend of mine once told me the law is not about seeking truth. It is, quite simply, a set of rules and procedures for resolving disputes. The truth may or may not emerge.
My friend was right. A day in court may or may not get to the bottom of what happened. But court cases have truth value in another way- their records preserve important details about people and the times in which they lived.
This is clearly true of a case heard by West Chester justice of the peace John Graves on May 30th, 1795. One of Graves' neighbors on Walnut Street, Jonah Garret, owned a number of "free-range" pigs. One of them, a sow, dug around the gardens of Turk's Head Tavern. The keeper of the tavern was Mr. John Harper. Harper sought damages against Jonah Garret for the sow's unpermitted foraging.
The loss to Mr. Garret was calculated at 7 shillings. Graves had the sow assessed at 14. He ordered that the pig be sold or slaughtered, and Mr. Harper recompensed accordingly.
John Harper, justice Graves, Jonah Garret, and the pig have long since vanished. But Walnut Street remains. I walked down it last week, imagining a time when money was counted in shillings and the pigs roamed free.
We may think the world was simpler then, but this is an illusion. The municipal problems we face today are certainly ones people in the 18th century couldn't conceive of, but the reverse is also true - I suspect there aren't many residents in the borough these days who are bothered by free-ranging hogs. Life has always been complicated, and courts have existed throughout history to settle disputes in a peaceful fashion. For the historian, they also provide a glimpse of a lost world, with all of its crimes, follies, and misfortunes.
My friend was right. A day in court may or may not get to the bottom of what happened. But court cases have truth value in another way- their records preserve important details about people and the times in which they lived.
This is clearly true of a case heard by West Chester justice of the peace John Graves on May 30th, 1795. One of Graves' neighbors on Walnut Street, Jonah Garret, owned a number of "free-range" pigs. One of them, a sow, dug around the gardens of Turk's Head Tavern. The keeper of the tavern was Mr. John Harper. Harper sought damages against Jonah Garret for the sow's unpermitted foraging.
The loss to Mr. Garret was calculated at 7 shillings. Graves had the sow assessed at 14. He ordered that the pig be sold or slaughtered, and Mr. Harper recompensed accordingly.
John Harper, justice Graves, Jonah Garret, and the pig have long since vanished. But Walnut Street remains. I walked down it last week, imagining a time when money was counted in shillings and the pigs roamed free.
We may think the world was simpler then, but this is an illusion. The municipal problems we face today are certainly ones people in the 18th century couldn't conceive of, but the reverse is also true - I suspect there aren't many residents in the borough these days who are bothered by free-ranging hogs. Life has always been complicated, and courts have existed throughout history to settle disputes in a peaceful fashion. For the historian, they also provide a glimpse of a lost world, with all of its crimes, follies, and misfortunes.
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