A Western Paul Revere

Posted on by
Reply

While looking for something else a few days ago I came across a story in a 1912 edition of the Keokuk Daily Gate City that explained how Union forces won the northernmost battle of the Civil War west of the Mississippi River. The story involves a mad ride through the countryside to warn of impending attack and a small town’s action against a stronger enemy. Unlike the story that turned Paul Revere’s truncated ride into an epic apocryphal poem, this story is a first-hand account of a wild adventure that changed history west of the Mississippi River.

Athens, Missouri (It’s pronounced AY-thens there) was a town of about fifty about the time of the Civil War, backed up against the Des Moines River that forms the notch in our border in the far northeast corner of the state.  It’s pretty much a ghost town now, with a state historic site nearby commemorating the Battle of Athens. Athens doesn’t even show up on the maps anymore (the one above is from Google). Go up to the northeast corner of the notch, just east of Highway 81 about seven miles (as the crow flies) southeast of Farmington, Iowa, where the DesMoines River forms the state boundary and imagine a dot there and you’ll pretty much know where Athens was.

About 2,000 Confederates under Colonel Martin Green tried to capture Athens from the Home Guard Troops under Col. David Moore who occupied the town. Normally he would have had 500 men but he was down to about 330 because some of his troops had been allowed to go to their homes in the area. Green surrounded the town on three sides and attacked on August 5, 1861.

But Moore’s men turned out to be better armed, with rifled muskets and bayonets while Green’s force was poorly equipped and was mostly untrained recruits. When the Confederate attack wavered in the face of better-than-expected defenses, Moore led a bayonet counter-attack that forced the Rebels to flee, never again to threaten an invasion Iowa.

A key part of the story is how the Union forces came to be better armed. And that is where the seldom-related (for many years, apparently) story of General Cyrus Bussey, then a cavalry Lieutenant-Colonel of the Iowa Home Guard begins.  He told it to Phillip Dolan of the New York World and it was reprinted in the Keokuk newspaper on January 1, 1912.

Listen my friends and you shall hear of the daring ride of Cyrus Bussey, and how it changed Civil War history in northeast Missouri and in Iowa.

“Because I was a Democratic member of the Iowa State Senate and supported the measure to appropriate $800,000 to raise troops in Iowa for the preservation of the Union, Governor Kirkwood named me his aide-de-camp on his staff, with the rank of Lieutenant-Colonel of Cavalry. That was May, 1861. I was twenty-eight years old with no military education or training.

“I lived in Bloomfield, twelve miles from the Missouri border. My messenger reported to me that the Confederal Gen. Martin Green was organizing a brigade on the border to invade Iowa. I applied to Governor Kirkwood for arms but he had none.  The Battle of Bull Run had given the southerners big encouragement and there was great enlistment in northern Missouri for the Confederate army.

“I went to General Fremont in St. Louis and asked for arms. He had none.  I said, ‘Give me 100,000 rounds of ammunition.

“What will you do with ammunition without guns?”

“I replied ‘I don’t know but I’ll feel better if I have ammunition.’

“He gave me 50,000 rounds and right away it was loaded on a steamboat and sent up the Mississippi River to Keokuk, Iowa.

“The next night about midnight my messenger came to my house in Bloomfield and reported that Gen. Green was shoeing his horses and would start the invasion of Iowa within thirty-six hours with 1,500 cavalry.

“I went at once to a livery stable and asked for a horse and buggy. At 4 o’clock in the morning they brought to my house a rig —a two-wheeled sulky—and in the shafts was a mustang and three men were holding him, for he was really a wild horse just taken from the herd. It was the only horse they could give me.

“I got up in the seat, took the reins, the men let go and the mustang plunged off.  Away I went behind that wild horse toward Keokuk, forty miles to the eastward. For fourteen miles he tore over the road, over the hills, up and down and through streams with never a let up; a hundred escapes from imminent wreck we had.

“We approached the home of Mr. Bloom, a friend of mine. Here the road led down to a ravine and Mr. Bloom’s cattle filled the road, lying down. Straight down the road, galloped the horse, straight at the herd of cattle. One wheel struck a cow, the shock took the horse clean off his feet, threw him into the air and down he landed on his back in a ditch with the sulky on top of him. I was flung twenty feet.

“But good fortune was with me. The sulky was not broken, and better still, the horse was still full of life and his legs uninjured. Swiftly, Mr. Bloom and his hired man helped me to hitch up again, and away we went, the horse wilder than ever. At the Pittsburgh ford he plunged through the Des Moines River, half a mile wide, and a mile and a half further, came to the town of Keosauqua. Here I tried to stop him but he would not stop. I guided him around the square in the center of the town. Round and round he raced three times, and then a crowd of the town’s people stopped him and I got out. I left him there for good. I took the train for Keokuk and reached that place.

“I notified the authorities of Keokuk to barricade their streets against the coming of Martin Green. One of the railroad officials came to me with a bill of lading showing 1,000 guns in transit, shipped by the war department to Col. Grenville M. Dodge at Council Bluffs, for the regiment he was raising there and these guns had just arrived in Keokuk and were about to go out on the west bound train. I felt that Providence was with me. I seized the guns and the train.

“I found the ammunition which General Fremont had sent, and by more wonderful good fortune, the cartridges were exactly right for the caliber of the guns.

“Immediately I gave 100 of the guns to Gen. Belknap, afterwards secretary of war, and 100 to H. J. Sample. I got on the train with 800 guns. At Athens, Mo., Col. David Moore was in camp with 300 loyal Missourians armed with a few shotguns. I gave him 200 rifles. A few miles further up, I left 100 guns with Capt. O. H. P. Scott.  At Keosauqua I left 200 guns. The other 300 guns I took to Ottumwa, hired a wagon, and hauled them to Bloomfield, my home, where three companies were promptly raised, and I immediately started back to Keokuk.

“On the way, I received a message from Col. Moore telling me Green’s forces were advancing on him and a battle was momentarily expected. A special train brought a detachment to his aid.

“Moore had barricaded the streets of Athens. Green attacked him but the resistance was so strong that Green retired. For two days my Home Guard continued to arrive at Athens. Then Col. Moore, in command, followed the rebels into Missouri. They never came back to Iowa.

“Having seized the guns without warrant—ordinarily a great offense—I started to get my action legalized. Gen. Fremont said to me, ‘You have rendered a very important service. You have shown fitness for command. Next day he appointed me Colonel and authorized me to raise a regiment of cavalry. In ten days I had 1,100 men in camp, mustered in as the Third Iowa Cavalry.

“But I have never ceased to wonder what would have happened if that wild mustang had not landed on his back in the soft ditch and thus saved his legs to carry me on.”

And that’s how Moore’s men at Athens became better armed than the  much larger force of Confederates and how a little battle in a now-gone northeast Missouri town stopped a Confederate invasion of Iowa.

The battle was the beginning of a distinguished military and civilian life for Bussey. He was Grant’s chief of cavalry at Vicksburg and commanded Sherman’s advance guard at Jackson Mississippi.  He became a wartime Major-General in 1865. For a short time after the war he was a commission merchant in St. Louis and New Orleans before becoming a lawyer. During the Harrison administration (1889-1893) he was Assistant Secretary of the Interior.  At the time of the interview he was described as “a spare, medium-size man, showing few marks of his long life of great activity, he is mentally keen and keeps the dry humor of an Iowa pioneer.”

He died in 1915 at the age of 81.  He and his wife are buried in Arlington National Cemetery under an imposing monument.

The Paul Revere of the west, he was—except that, unlike Revere, he was propelled by a wild mustang and he completed his mission.  And he changed the history of the Civil War west of the Mississippi.

(The picture is from History of Iowa from the Earliest Times to the Beginning of the Twentieth Century (1903)

Finally—

Posted on by
1

Somebody has come up with a way for the legislature to improve financing of our roads and bridges while also anticipating the growth of electric vehicles and their impact on future transportation infrastructure funding. The idea is halfway through the legislative process but some observers think the road ahead is uphill. And the hill is the House of Representatives.

Your loyal observer observed the last part of Missouri Senate debate on the bill sponsored by Senate President Pro Tem Dave Schatz of Sullivan last Thursday morning, shortly before the Senate adjourned for spring break. Schatz, who thinks returning to gravel roads is not much of a solution to our present road upkeep problems, has gotten his gas tax increase bill through the Senate but he had to work for it.

Passage of the bill was reminiscent of some of the bi-partisan collegiality and compromise in which the Senate takes pride but which has too often in many recent years been missing.

Earlier in the week, Schatz’s plan for a 15-cent per-gallon fuel tax increase ran into a roadblock thrown up by the conservative caucus, a group of senators that seemingly opposes any kind of a tax increase any time (the present tax rate of 17 cents a gallon ranks Missouri 49th in the country in fuel tax level).  Our last gas tax was a phased-in tax that peaked in 1996.

MODOT doesn’t buy much asphalt, cement, or winter salt and the equipment to spread it for 1996 prices these days.  But it sure could use the estimated $460 million a year the increased tax will produce when it’s fully effective.

The compromise bill phases in a 12.5 cent increase through five years.  For those who think roads and bridges can be built and maintained for free, there’s a provision that lets people save all of their receipts printed at the pump and then claim a full rebate of the new taxes.  It’s a nice touch to mollify some no-tax folks, many of whom won’t keep track of all of those receipts to claim 2.5 cents per gallon at the end of the year.

We calculate that somebody traveling 12,000 miles a year in a vehicle that gets 20 miles per gallon would get back $15, not much money for the hassle of saving all those receipts.

We’ve observed previously in some of these conversations the growing number of vehicles that do not contribute to the cost of maintaining our road and highway system, which is why we are gratified to see a provision in this bill that increases present EV fees by twenty percent during the next five years.

As we understand present law, the owners of Alternative Fuel Vehicles have to buy a decal from the state. For cars that are not powered by electricity, that decal is $75. AFVs weighing 18 tons or more have to have a $1,000 decal in the window.  For plug-in hybrid electric vehicles, the decal costs half of the fee for vehicles that powered by fossil fuels.

But is that half-off fee proper for EVs fair to the road system?  That’s where another welcome part of Schatz’s bill kicks in. It establishes the “Electric Vehicle Task Force” within the Revenue Department to recommend future legislation on ways EVs can appropriately contribute to the infrastructure they use.

There is never an ideal time for a tax increase as far as the public and some members of the legislature are concerned.  But two or three pennies a gallon will mean that the state can afford do more than to apply cold patches to potholes and keep fingers crossed that rusty bolts on bridges will hold on a little bit longer.

I’d rather pay a little more at the pump than read about school buses winding up in a rural creek on the wsay to school.

There’s no guarantee the House will accept Schatz’s plan or recognize the compromise work that got it passed (every Senate Democrat joined with some of the members of Schatz’s party to pass the bill).  From our lofty position, however, it seems to be a prudent, responsible approach to dealing with a major problem today while laying the groundwork for dealing with our electric-powered future.

 

We will make our own futures

Posted on by
Reply

(Carl Sandburg, Lincoln biographer and Prairie Poet, wrote his epic prose poem The People, Yes 85 years ago. It’s one of America’s great statements about who we are. Read it sometime. Early in the work, Sandburg reflects:

The people so often sleepy, weary, enigmatic,
is a vast huddle with many units saying:
“I earn my living.
I make enough to get by
and it takes all my time.
If I had more time
I could do more for myself
and maybe for others.
I could read and study
and talk things over
and find out about things.
It takes time.
I wish I had the time.”

A quarter-century before Sandburg’s poem was published, Dr. Frank Crane suggested that wishing for more time to “do more for myself and maybe for others” was futile. Get on with the doing, he seems to say.  If you want to lift the language of 1912 to the language of 2021, you might want to substitute “humankind” for “man,” as Dr. Crane asserts—)

MAN CARVES HIS OWN DESTINY

Doing clears the mind. Physical activity has a peculiar luminous effect on the judgment. The soundest views of life come not from the pulpit or the professional chair but from the workshop.

To saw a plank or to nail down a shingle, to lay a stone square or to paint a house evenly, to run a locomotive, or to raise a good crop of corn, somehow reacts upon the intelligence, reaching the very inward essential cell of wisdom; provided always the worker is brave, not afraid of his own conclusions, and does not hand his thinking over to some guesser with a large bluff.

Doing makes religion. All religions that is of any account is what we thrash out with our own hands, suffer out with our own hearts, and find out with our own visions.

Doing creates faith. Doubt comes from Sundays and other idle hours. The only people who believe the Ten Commandments are those who do them. Those who believe the world is better are they that are trying to make it grow better.

Doing brings joy. The sweetest of joys is the joy of accomplishment. Make love and you will feel love. Quit making love and you will doubt love. Be kind, steadily and persistently, and you will believe in kindness. Be unclean and you will soon sneer at anybody’s claim to virtue.

So a man has his own destiny, his own creed, his own internal peace, his own nobility in his hands—literally in his hands. For all the worthwhile wisdom and goodness you have in your head and heart was cooked up from your hands.

Talktalktalktalktalk

Posted on by
Reply

You might think that somebody who has endured the number of filibusters your faithful observer has endured would join those who think they should be banned or in some way limited.

You’d be wrong.

Those who favor limits of some kind appear to miss a point.  A limited filibuster is not a filibuster.

Filibusters are not intended to be entertaining although there were some of those that your observer endured that had their moments—the night then-state senator Sam Graves started reading the names of the high school graduates from his district and started over every time he was interrupted.

Or when Senator Marie Chappelle-Nadal decided to make a filibuster an audience-participation event and invited people listening to the Senate’s internet feed to send her text messages suggesting topics, or asking questions she could answer.

Then there was Senator Matt Bartle’s one-man version of Jimmy Stewart’s imitation of one in “Mr. Smith goes to Washington.”  He lasted something like 17 hours, taking advantage of quorum calls to dash off to the bathroom while the Senate was idle and waiting for enough Senators to get off their office couches and sleepily go into the chamber just long enough to be counted “present.”

I can recall several of them that lasted so long I had to leave the Senate press table to go to the Missourinet newsroom to do the morning newscasts.  At least a couple of times I listened to the internet feed while I was putting the newscasts together.  I think there might even have been a couple of times when I returned to the Capitol and the senators were still burning legislative time off the clock.

They’re most effective in the final weeks when time is running short and the debate calendars are running long with bills that are ready for final votes. The House limits the amount of time someone can hold the floor so the Missouri House doesn’t have much chance of having all that fun.  But the Senate has no such limits.

And it never should.  Nor should Congress.

The filibuster can be a futile time of railing against the inevitable—as can happen when one party has a two-thirds majority and therefore doesn’t need to compromise on anything and can just wait until the minority, or part of the minority, chews up precious hours of debate time and finally runs out of energy.

They’re most effective when the numbers are closer.  Many filibusters are resolved when opposing sides finally decide to find some compromises that previously had been rejected and start talking about lessening the most objectionable parts of the legislation.  But when one party is so dominant that it doesn’t need to compromise on anything, compromise is hard to see

When that happens, the participants in a filibuster hope some members of the other party will start seeing the time their bills needed to gain passage is disappearing, and they start pressuring their majority colleagues to stop this thing so there will be a chance for passage of other bills before the final adjournment.

As unpleasant as most of them are, as many times as this veteran observer of them realized hours of his life were disappearing in the ocean of blather and boredom (the same hours would disappear more pleasantly at home and in bed), they are an important part of government, a protection against steamrolling the minority or a faction of the majority.  When you have no other weapons; when you are heavily outnumbered even by members of your own party; when you want to kill an abhorrent idea or even one that could be better if the overbearing sponsor doesn’t want anybody tampering with his precious idea—-talk becomes the only weapon.

Filibusters are awful things.  But today’s pest is tomorrow’s ally. The tables might turn and those who are forced to listen today might be the talkers tomorrow and it’s important to recognize that possible reciprocity.  Respecting in others the tool you might need to use someday yourself is important.

They work better when the competing parties respect each other enough to be willing to work out their differences.  But when the two sides are so antagonistic that talk is impossible, extensive talk becomes even more essential.

Filibusters are part of our democratic-republic form of government.  They might not be nice but they’re essential.

Sometimes they result in talking a bill to death.  Other times they talk a bill into a better life.

Tools, after all, often have dual purposes.  And the filibuster is an important tool in our political system.

A Study of Fear

Posted on by
Reply

The uncertainties of political and economic life are leaving some of us fearful. A litany of the fears we might have would be a long one. Long before President Franklin Roosevelt warned us about fearing fear, Dr. Frank Crane defined it in terms of positive fear and negative far when he wrote about—-)

TWO KINDS OF FEAR

There are two kinds of fear: centripetal and centrifugal. One draws me to you; the other pushes me from you.

The noblest quality of love is accompanied by fear.

No man loves his wife duly unless he fears to do would bring upon him her contempt or aversion.

No woman loves her husband as she should unless there are pits and fear all around her love, things she is afraid to do.

You have noticed how, when a young fellow falls in love, he is full of tremblings and dreads. He is as frightened as a child in the dark. “Will she scorn me for this? And what will she think of me for doing that?”

A proper self-respect is not possible without self-fear. George Washington,  in the cherry tree episode, was afraid to tell a lie; afraid not of punishment, but of himself.

This is Tennyson’s meaning in the lines:

Dowered with the hate of hate; the scorn of scorn,

The love of love.

Many persons fall into grievous error by not understanding this. They think all fear is weakness, and timidity is ignoble. Hence they imagine they should be bold and fearless toward their own conscience, and have no timor of their own modesty.

It should be remembered that the very finest quality of courage, and the keen edge of true love, is pure fear. The bravest soldier is afraid to run, the noblest lover is afraid to be unworthy.

These two kinds of fear are brought out in the Bible. On the one hand “the fear of the Lord” is spoken of as a most commendable thing, the fountain of morals, “the beginning of wisdom.”  On the other hand, we are told that “perfect love casteth out fear,” and we are not to fear God but to “boldly approach.”

Which is easily understood if we perceive the two qualities of fear. That which is commended is that sensitive, trembling fear which is always the little sister to a great and pure love.

That which is condemned is the craven fear which has no advice for us but to urge us to flee.

Centipetal is the other side of love.

Centrifugal fear is the other side of hate or repugnance.

If I love you I am afraid of you. If I hate you I fear you. But they are two different feelings.

The love-fear is that of the lover toward his beloved, the child toward his mother, the soul toward God; the hate-fear is that of the criminal toward the policeman; of class against class; of feuds and grudges, of the life that loves evil toward the Lord of life.

Son of Fun with Snowplows

Posted on by
Reply

A few days ago we suggested the Missouri Department of Transportation follow Scotland’s lead and give clever names to its snowplows.  We have seen any signs that the department has a sense of humor yet but Minnesota’s Department of Transportation has joined the fun.

It ran a poll on fifty potential snowplow names.  Participants could vote for eight names. The top eight at the end are:

Plowy McPlowFace (Inspired, no doubt, by a contest several years ago run by the British National Environmental Research Council to pick a name for its new polar research vessel.  More than 27,000 respondents chose “RRS Boaty McBoatface.” The council decided after seeing the results that the name wasn’t respectful enough of the council or its ship and said the contest was meant to just get suggestions, not to pick the real name. The council later announced the boat would be named for naturalist and broadcaster David Attenborough. However, one of the boat’s underwater research submarines will carry the less distinguished name).

The other seven:

Ope, Just Gonna Plow Right Past Ya; Duck Duck Orange Truck; Plow Bunyan; Snowbi Wan Kenobi; F. Salt Fitzgerald; Darth Blader; and The Truck Formerly Known as Plow.

Some of the others: Buzz Iceclear, C3PSnow, Edward Blizzardhands, For Your Ice Only, Mary Tyler More Snow, Plowabunga, TheWinterstate.

(We could have Winterstate 70, Winterstate 435, etc.)

If you think you can stand it, the others are on the department webpage: Name a Snowplow contest – MnDOT (state.mn.us).

In northern areas such as Scotland and Minnesota, the snow is different than it is here. And people can play in it—and do, for many months of the year. Here, it’s often wet, heavy stuff that clogs the snowblower that we bought at Sears—back when had a Sears store from which to buy things. It’s fun up there. It’s a big pain down here.

But, hey, MODOT, why not let us add at least a little levity our misery. Have a contest.  People who submit the top ten snowplow names get a new shovel they can use to clear out their driveways.

Can’t government be a little fun?

 

 

 

INTERNECINE WARFARE

Posted on by
Reply

There is no joy in watching the divisions with the Republican Party.  Some are forecasting the end of the party as we have known it—conservative leadership at times, loyal opposition at others as the parties have swapped national leadership for more than two centuries.

But it is easy to project the death of either of our political parties.  And times have shown that such projections have been wrong.  Let us hope that Jon Meacham’s recent book that we often wrote about during last year’s campaign remains true: that Americans, when on the brink of destruction of our democracy, have coalesced and not gone over the cliff.

The other day, your noble researcher was going through some old newspapers looking for something else when, as often happens, something else caught his eye.

There was this cartoon at the bottom of page one of the June 23, 1912 edition of the Galveston Daily News:

The Republican Party was so badly divided that there was talk of a third party materializing out of the severe division.

And in 1912 that is exactly what happened.

The Chicago GOP convention nominated William Howard Taft for a second term.  The third tier of the headline speaks of resentment, “wild enthusiasm” for a losing candidate to threatened to form his own party, and did.  Teddy Roosevelt was the Bull Moose among Republicans.  In fact that became the nickname of the Progressive Party under whose label he ran in 1912, complaining that Taft’s policies were too conservative.

Times obviously were much different in 1912.

And this leads to another sidetrack.  When the Progressive Party met in August, it referred to its platform as “A Contract With the People” (so Newt was not particularly original all those years ago). Roosevelt told his followers, “Our cause is based on the eternal principle of righteousness; and even though we, who now lead may for the time fail, in the end the cause itself shall triumph.”

That’s an important thing to recall in these days when those in the progressive win of the Democratic Party are being ridiculed for promoting causes that are criticized as radical.  Her are some of the “radical” issues promoted by TR’s Progressive Party:

The Progressive Party had its own version of “Drain the Swamp” in its platform when it said, “To destroy this invisible Government, to dissolve the unholy alliance between corrupt business and corrupt politics is the first task of the statesmanship of the day.”

They called for such outlandish things as registration of lobbyists and disclosure of and limits to campaign contributions. They wanted a national health service that included all of government’s medical agencies. They wanted a social insurance program that provided for disabled, unemployed, and elderly citizens. They wanted to limit abilities of judges to limit strikes. They wanted to establish minimum wages for women, an eight-hour workday for everybody, and a workers compensation system for people injured on the job. They also promoted an inheritance tax—the “death tax” contemporary Republicans have targeted for years. And they wanted a Commissioner of Federal Securities. They said citizens, not legislatures, should elect United States Senators, letting women vote, and holding primary elections for state and federal office nominations. They favored giving citizens of the states the rights of initiative, referendum, and recall.

We haven’t read enough old newspapers to see if these terrible ideas were branded as “socialist” by non-progressive members of the two established parties. But they do show that today’s “progressive” ideas have a tendency to prevail through time.

Getting back on-topic:

The second page of the Daily News reported the 1912 Republican convulsions were hardly new:

Different people look at the 2021 convulsions within the Republican Party through different lenses.  Some worry that the party is self-destructing or that the Party is headed down the road that Germany headed down in the 1930s, or that the party will so badly divide and that so many members will defect that Democrats will become even more dominant.

An excellent question.

Predictions of the deaths of either of our two major parties have proven to be remarkably inaccurate.  Democrat Woodrow Wilson won the 1912 election with 41.8% of the vote, carrying forty of the forty-eight states. Roosevelt carried six and had 27.4% of the votes. Taft carried two states and got 23.2% of the votes.  There was a fourth candidate.  A Socialist.  Eugene V. Debs got six percent of the votes.

Wilson was re-elected in 1916 as this country hurtled toward a war he knew we could not stay out of, knowing that the popular campaign phrase, “He kept us out of war” was false.

In 1920, Republican Warren G. Harding got 60.4% of the popular vote.

In 1924, Republican Calvin Coolidge got 54% of the vote.

In 1928, Herbert Hoover got 58.2% of the vote.

It is reasonable to express grave concern about the future of the Republican Party and the sizeable and noisy segment of it that reminds many of a cult. While it is dangerous to dismiss the cult-culture segment of the party, it also is dangerous to declare the Republican Party cannot survive its latest division, and it is dangerous to laugh at the internecine warfare within it.

Remember 1912.  Then remember 1920. And 1924.  And 1928.

And also:

Don’t forget the “radical” ideas of Roosevelt’s progressives.

Time doesn’t heal wounds. It becomes the history that just records them. People overcome them. Or, at least, they have up to now.  And, we hope, they will again.

DOING GOOD

Posted on by
Reply

(We rarely edit Dr. Crane’s thoughts from more than a century ago.  But today we are taking the liberty of updating his thoughts.  This entry is from early May, 1912, almost a decade before women gained the right to vote, at time when it remained a man’s world, if you will. But Dr. Crane’s insights are valid for all and in this instance we have changed his men-only references to reflect timeless truths for those of us who live in much different times from the day this column first appeared.  Call it political correctness if you wish but as you read it, appreciate its value for all.  Dr. Crane originally called it, “The Men Who Make Good.’  That was then, this is now, which is why we call it—-_

THE ONES WHO MAKE GOOD

We are full of hidden forces.

In a crisis, we discover powers within ourselves, powers that have lain dormant, secret reserves of ability, only waiting occasion to leap forth.

You can tell just what weight a bar of iron will bear, just what weight a locomotive can pull, and just how much liquid a glass vessel will hold; but you cannot tell how much responsibility a man can carry without stumbling; nor how much grief a woman’s heart can suffer without breaking.

The human being is the X in the problem of nature. It is the unknown quantity of the universe.

The frightened boy can jump a fence he would not have attempted in his sober senses. A frail woman in the desire to save her child becomes as strong as Sandow.* A soldier battle-mad acquires the strength of ten. Get a meek, timid little man at bay and he may fight like a tiger.

The one thing nobody knows is what can be done in a pinch.

The forceful natures are those that depend on this hidden nerve force. These are the pioneers, to whom the dangers from unknown beasts and savages is a welcome fillip. They taste “that stern joy that warriors feel In foeman worthy of their steel.” **

These are the overcomers…

They do not know what they can do. They only know that when the thing is to be done, possible or impossible, safe or deadly, there is some strength that surges up within them that meets and measures with the task.

Panic only claims them, clears their brain, and steadies their hand while others go mad.

Defeat only rouses in them a dogged strength.

Slanders, sneers, and curses cannot drive them from their work; success or praise does not make them dizzy.

They are not prudent. They are not wise. They are not skilled or trained. They simply make good wherever they are put.

There is no recipe for producing such souls. The choicest heredity cannot breed them, schools cannot prepare them, religion cannot form them.

They are the ones who rise to the occasion. They are unafraid. They are the ones that lose themselves in the thing to be done, and do it, and care not for heaven or hell, or their own life.

The supply of such has never equaled the demand. Every business enterprise wants them. Every profession cries for them.

They are not heroes. They are better…

When you meet them, they seem commonplace, often shy and awkward.

But don’t be deceived. They are the only really great ones. They are the ones who make good.

*Eugen Sandow, Prussian bodybuilder and showman (1867-1925) won numerous strongman competitions and is credited with organizing the world’s first major body-building competition, held in London in 1901.

**Walter Scott, the English poet, in his classic 1810 poem, The Lady of the Lake spoke of:                                                                 “Respect was mingled with surprise                                                                                        And the stern joy that warriors feel                                                                                           In foemen worthy of their steel.”

How a Possum Stopped Radicalization 

Posted on by
Reply

We’ve seen something such as this before:

A political party seized by a charismatic leader with radicalized followers at a time of national division sees voter suppression as one of the keys to maintaining its power and threatens to drive the other party into oblivion.  But the party develops an internal fracture between the radical wing and the more traditional element and there are fears that IT will be the party going into oblivion.

From this contentious time there emerges a possum and over time, it rescues both parties.

This was the political situation in Missouri fifteen decades ago.

During the Civil War, the interim government—Governor Price and several members of the legislature had fled to Arkansas to set up a government in exile that finished the war headquartered in Texas—Radical Republicans left in control in Missouri adopted a loyalty oath to make sure Missouri would have only Union-loyal officials in charge.  The Radical movement had begun about the time the Republican Party began in the mid-1850s, their name coming from their demand for immediate end to slavery. During the war, they were opposed by the moderate wing of the party led by Abraham Lincoln, who had run fourth in the 1860 election in this state, as well as by Democrats, who were more oriented toward southern sympathies.

The Radicals confirmed their control of Missouri government with the election of Governor Thomas Fletcher in 1864, thanks in part to the organizational skills of St. Louis lawyer Charles D. Drake who in 1863 argued for a new state constitution and disenfranchisement of all Confederate sympathizers. Carl Schurz, a future U.S. Senator and a leader of Missouri’s German citizens, called him “inexorable” and said Republicans “especially in the country districts, stood much in awe of him,” which might sound familiar today.

Radical Republicans pushed through The Drake Constitution, named because of his influence, in 1865. It contained a harsh loyalty oath that basically denied citizenship rights to anyone who would not pledge that they had given no support to the rebellion. Regardless of loyalty during the war, even if a person were a Union General, citizens could not vote, practice a profession, or serve in positions of public trust unless they swore to that oath. Drake and his Radical Republicans produced a list of 81 actions that defined disloyalty. For six years the Drake-led Radicals controlled politics in Missouri and Drake became a United States Senator.

Missouri’s moderate Republicans were reeling during those years and Democrats feared for their own party’s existence.  And this is when the possum was born that saved both political groups.

Drake’s Radicals began to see rising opposition from those who called themselves Liberal Republicans—remember this was 1870 and the two words, “liberal” and “Republican” were not an oxymoron.

The Liberals had had enough of Drake and his Radicals by the time the State Republican Convention was held in Jefferson City on August 31, 1870.  The Committee on Platforms filed two reports, a majority report from the Liberals favored immediate re-enfranchisement of former Confederates.  The Radical, minority, report favored a statewide vote on the question. With former Confederate supporters banned from voting, the outcome of the election pretty clearly would have maintained Radical Control.  When the convention adopted the Radical position, about 250 Liberals walked out and nominated their own ticket with Benjamin Gratz Brown its candidate for Governor.  The Radicals nominated Joseph McClurg for a second two-year term.

Democrats, still weak shortly after the U. S. Supreme Court threw out part of the loyalty oath, decided not to put up a statewide ticket.  William Hyde, the editor of The St. Louis Republican, a Democratic newspaper despite its name, is credited with creating what became known as “The Possum Policy.”  Instead of running its own slate, the Democrats threw their support behind the Liberal Republican candidate, Brown.

Walter B. Stevens, in Missouri, the Center State, 1821-1915, records an exchange of telegrams after the State Democratic Convention decided to support Liberal Republicans in which former U. S. Senator John Brooks Henderson—who did not run for re-election after voting against convicting President Johnson of impeachment charges—told Brown, “The negroes of this state are free. White men only are now enslaved. The people look to you and your friends to deliver them from this great wrong. Shall they look in vain?”

Brown wired back, “The confidence of the people of this State shall not be disappointed. I will carry out this canvass to its ultimate consequence so that no freeman not convicted of crime shall   henceforth be deprived on an equal voice in our government.”

The Democrats’ “Possum Policy” helped Brown defeated McClurg by about 40,000 votes, effectively ending the Radical Republican reign in Missouri.

The Liberal Republicans, created for the sole purpose of ending radicalism within the party, could not survive on their own. Governor Brown’s Secretary, Frederick N. Judson, reflected, “A party based upon a single issue, called into being to meet a single emergency, could not in the nature of things become permanent…and though its party life was short, it is entitled to the imperishable glory of having destroyed the last vestige of the Civil War in Missouri. A nobler record no party could have.”

National Democrats failed to follow the Missouri party’s “Possum Policy” and in 1872 nominated a presidential ticket of Horace Greeley, the New York newspaper publisher then in failing physical and mental health, and Benjamin Brown of Missouri—-a move that antagonized the national Liberal Republican movement and led to a crushing defeat for Democrats as Liberal Republicans opposed to the Grant administration had no place to go and so supported it anyway. With that, Liberal Republican movement died nationally.

In Missouri, the re-enfranchised Democrats elected Silas Woodson to succeed Brown as Governor, beginning Democratic control of the governorship until Republican Herbert Hadley was elected in 1908.

Missourians adopted a new constitution in 1875, throwing out the punitive Drake Constitution.  It lasted until our present State Constitution was adopted in 1945, the longest-standing constitution in state history.

Republicans paid a price to overcome the radicalization of their party 150 years ago but paying that price made sure that the rights of thousands of people were no longer endangered or no longer remained limited.

Being out of power did not and does not mean being without influence. History tells us we became a better nation because political courage manifested itself at the right time within the Republican Party.  In the long term both parties saved themselves.

We are not advocating that the Republican National Committee adopt a “possum policy” in 2022 or in 2024 to stamp out radicalization within the party nor are we saying splitting the party will be the solution now that it was then. But history reminds us of the dangers of radical politics and the sacrifices that have to be made, sometimes on both sides of the aisle, to make sure it does not overwhelm us.

An Antidote to Uncertainty

Posted on by
1

(We might forgive ourselves for feeling uncertain about so many things these days—our political system, our health in a time of pandemic, our personal relationships, our employment future, the uncertainty of our climate, the instability of governments throughout the world—

But Dr. Frank Crane encourage us not to be consumed by uncertainty. He warns against —-)

THE POSTPONEMENT OF LIFE

Many of us are like the boy taking a “run and jump” who ran so far that he couldn’t jump. We spend so much time and strength getting ready to enjoy ourselves that we never enjoy ourselves at all.

We are like businessmen who break down brain, nerves, and body accumulating a fortune to wherewith to take their ease, and when they are at last ready to play they have lost the knack of it.

With too many of us, Today is a fevered compromise, a make-shift something we’ve got to get through with we known not how, something to be forgotten as soon as possible. It is “tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow.” We have no joy but for a sort of reaching for joy, no satisfaction but expectance, no comfort but hope.

Would it not be better to give each day some kind of finish as a good workman perfects each ornament of a temple? Every day has possibilities for the perfect exercise of life’s functions. Emerson said, “Every day is a day of doom.” Here are a few hints.

First, remember that the one thing that has most to do with making life worth living is love. Let no day pass without some expression of affection.

Don’t postpone play. No day ought to go by without some moments of diversion. Play a game. Have a bit of a chat with your neighbor. Do something useless each day lest you become an enemy of the human race.

Don’t postpone physical exercise.

It is not the occasional sport that counts in buttressing health and avoiding flabbiness.

Don’t postpone mental gymnastics. No mind should go a whole day without sweating over some knotty problem, some book hard to read, some genuine, solid thinking.

Don’t postpone beauty. The best-known soul food is admiration. Find today some cloud or flower or picture that warms you. Drop in at the picture gallery, or at least pause a moment at the art dealer’s window. Never go to sleep without having seen some beautiful thing since the last sleep.

Don’t postpone work. Produce something useful, something of distinct value to the world, and if possible, something the world is willing to pay for. The sanest thing a person can do is work, and for wages.

Don’t postpone laughter. A day without one good laugh is a bad day. No drug you can take, and no belief you can embrace will do as much good for the health of your soul and body as a real hearty laugh, from the boots up.

Now, isn’t one day with a dash of all those ingredients a pretty good affair in itself? Think of it! A little love, a little play, a little bodily and mental exertion, a little work, a little laughter, a ltitle wonder; what is that but a whole life in a nutshell?

Love, as the carpenter might say, by the day and not by the job. For after all, life is too much for any one of us, but a day, well, we might manage that perhaps, if we would.