Stupid Question ™
June 14, 2004
By John Ruch
© 2004
Q: How did President Richard Nixon end up on a stamp so quickly after his death? When Elvis Presley died, fans were told they would have to wait at least 10 years before his face could grace a stamp.
—Sean Scheiderer, Columbus, Ohio
A: Nixon’s stamp actually came nearly five months late, compared to standard United States Postal Service (USPS) policy.
But yes, he and the other presidents do not have to wait 10 years like everybody else. That’s because of a different corrupt president—Warren Harding.
No matter who you are, you have to be dead to be honored by a stamp. In most cases, that means dead at least a decade.
The origin of the 10-year figure is unclear, but it seems like a decent interval. There are similar traditions in place for other government memorials, all linked to America’s original caution against establishing a monarchy by over-honoring living people. (Alarmists may note the erosion of this tradition; the CIA headquarters is now named for President George H.W. Bush, who is so not-dead he was most recently seen skydiving.)
However, under a separate tradition, presidents get a stamp on their next birthday following their death. Thus, recently deceased President Ronald Reagan will be so honored on his birthday, next Feb. 6.
The birthday celebration is because modern presidential stamps are “commemoratives”—special, limited-edition stamps that at least nominally celebrate some kind of anniversary. (So are most other famous-dead-people stamps; thus, Elvis’ 1993 stamp commemorated the 10th anniversary of his death and was issued on his birthday.)
U.S. federal postage stamps didn’t exist until 1847. President George Washington was honored on the first series (along with Benjamin Franklin)—a lot more than 10 years after his death.
Actual commemorative stamps marking significant anniversaries began in 1893 (somewhat belated celebrations of Columbus “discovering” America).
It took a while for presidential commemoratives to get going. Abraham Lincoln got a stamp in 1866, rushed into production after his assassination the year before, but it was technically a “definitive,” or regular, stamp, not a commemorative. A 1909 Lincoln stamp marking his 100th birthday, however, was a commemorative, and perhaps the first official presidential commemorative.
After that, commemoratives quickly became political. The USPS had a hard time saying no to political pressure and to the money commemoratives raked in.
This led to the frenzied tribute to Harding, which changed the presidential rules forever. Harding died on Aug. 2, 1923 and had himself a stamp by Sept. 1—still one of the fastest stamp commemorations in U.S. history.
Commemoratives were already coming on pretty fast at the time, but Harding shattered the stamp speed record. For example, President William McKinley, who went to the trouble of getting assassinated in 1901, still had to wait about 2.5 years before showing up on a stamp. That was a standard presidential wait until Harding kicked the bucket.
Harding’s effect was twofold. On the one hand, it allowed popular presidents to be commemorated very rapidly. (Today commonly viewed as either mired in corruption or incompetently oblivious to corruption around him, Harding was beloved in his time.) Thus, President Franklin Roosevelt was on no fewer than four stamps within three months of his 1945 death.
On the other hand, it allowed unpopular presidents to go stampless for a long time. The first victim was Woodrow Wilson, who died shortly after Harding and was forgotten for about a year, then only got a definitive stamp. Calvin Coolidge’s stamp came more than 5 years after his 1933 death.
Following decades of fitful clamor to rein in this highly politicized stamping, the USPS finally adopted the birthday-after-death system, and has adhered to it since President John Kennedy’s 1963 assassination.
The one exception was Nixon, who died April 22, 1994 and was commemorated on April 26, 1995, missing his Jan. 9 birthday by miles. The official reason was to avoid the chaos of a January rate increase, but many philatelists believe the Watergate president’s massive unpopularity played a role. Likewise, the USPS has always declined to verify stories that the Nixon stamp was one of the worst-selling commemoratives ever.
Meanwhile—proving that sooner isn’t always better—the Elvis stamp is reportedly one of the best-selling commemoratives in history. It was also the first democratically-elected stamp artwork ever. (The American public famously voted for “young Elvis” over “old Elvis.”)
Showing posts with label presidents. Show all posts
Showing posts with label presidents. Show all posts
March 29, 2008
Confederate Presidential Election
Stupid Question ™
Oct. 13, 2003
By John Ruch
© 2003
Q: Was there ever a Confederate presidential election?
—Jake, from the Internet
A: Yes, and a congressional election, too—though neither meant very much.
The Confederate States of America (CSA) was the self-declared country formed by the Southern states that sparked the Civil War by leaving the US.
In February 1861, the first states to secede (Alabama, Florida, Georgia, Louisiana, Mississippi and South Carolina, soon joined by Texas) gathered in a convention, later known as the Confederate Provisional Congress, to establish the CSA government.
The Congress quickly appointed Jefferson Davis (former US secretary of war, senator, congressman and even once son-in-law to President Zachary Taylor) of Mississippi as a sort of provisional CSA president and Alexander Stephens of Georgia as vice president. Each office was a one-year provisional term that at first meant almost nothing since there wasn’t even a CSA constitution for another month.
An appointed presidency isn’t very democratic, but it was a highly competitive appointment. There was bitter debate about appointing various radical secessionists or more moderate politicians; Davis and Stephens were chosen as examples of the latter. Stephens had even vied against Davis for the presidency, and later became one of his harshest critics.
With the constitution in place, the one and only CSA popular election was held Nov. 6, 1861. Davis and Stephens ran unopposed. Their election was less about them than it was essentially a referendum on the CSA itself.
Under the CSA constitution, both the president and vice president were elected to six-year terms. Because the CSA collapsed with the war’s end in 1865, there was never a chance for another election.
In general, the CSA was as governmentally democratic as the Union, cribbing most of its constitution word-for-word from that of the US. Even when it violated democratic institutions with martial law, the US was doing the same thing.
However, the CSA did have the fundamental oddity of an extreme states’ rights viewpoint. Because of this, each state set its own Election Day—even for federal offices. Thus, the one CSA congressional election occurred not on one Election Day, but over several months in 1863 and 1864, with chaotic results.
The CSA’s founders also took a fresh look at American democracy. For example, they followed the original opinion of most of the Founding Fathers that political parties were a terrible idea, and never formed any.
The CSA founders also were against forming any sort of electoral college to elect presidents indirectly rather than by popular vote. However, most of them agreed with the prime reason for an electoral college—keeping a presumably stupid populace from electing a tyrant. So they formed one, grudgingly.
Some scholars argue that the CSA’s less centralized form of government helped speed the South’s loss of the war. But that’s hard to judge amidst the chaos of war and larger factors, such as a weak economy and the defense of slavery—the fundamental Southern stance that repulsed potential allies like Britain.
Oct. 13, 2003
By John Ruch
© 2003
Q: Was there ever a Confederate presidential election?
—Jake, from the Internet
A: Yes, and a congressional election, too—though neither meant very much.
The Confederate States of America (CSA) was the self-declared country formed by the Southern states that sparked the Civil War by leaving the US.
In February 1861, the first states to secede (Alabama, Florida, Georgia, Louisiana, Mississippi and South Carolina, soon joined by Texas) gathered in a convention, later known as the Confederate Provisional Congress, to establish the CSA government.
The Congress quickly appointed Jefferson Davis (former US secretary of war, senator, congressman and even once son-in-law to President Zachary Taylor) of Mississippi as a sort of provisional CSA president and Alexander Stephens of Georgia as vice president. Each office was a one-year provisional term that at first meant almost nothing since there wasn’t even a CSA constitution for another month.
An appointed presidency isn’t very democratic, but it was a highly competitive appointment. There was bitter debate about appointing various radical secessionists or more moderate politicians; Davis and Stephens were chosen as examples of the latter. Stephens had even vied against Davis for the presidency, and later became one of his harshest critics.
With the constitution in place, the one and only CSA popular election was held Nov. 6, 1861. Davis and Stephens ran unopposed. Their election was less about them than it was essentially a referendum on the CSA itself.
Under the CSA constitution, both the president and vice president were elected to six-year terms. Because the CSA collapsed with the war’s end in 1865, there was never a chance for another election.
In general, the CSA was as governmentally democratic as the Union, cribbing most of its constitution word-for-word from that of the US. Even when it violated democratic institutions with martial law, the US was doing the same thing.
However, the CSA did have the fundamental oddity of an extreme states’ rights viewpoint. Because of this, each state set its own Election Day—even for federal offices. Thus, the one CSA congressional election occurred not on one Election Day, but over several months in 1863 and 1864, with chaotic results.
The CSA’s founders also took a fresh look at American democracy. For example, they followed the original opinion of most of the Founding Fathers that political parties were a terrible idea, and never formed any.
The CSA founders also were against forming any sort of electoral college to elect presidents indirectly rather than by popular vote. However, most of them agreed with the prime reason for an electoral college—keeping a presumably stupid populace from electing a tyrant. So they formed one, grudgingly.
Some scholars argue that the CSA’s less centralized form of government helped speed the South’s loss of the war. But that’s hard to judge amidst the chaos of war and larger factors, such as a weak economy and the defense of slavery—the fundamental Southern stance that repulsed potential allies like Britain.
March 28, 2008
Who Ran Against Wartime Presidents
Stupid Question ™
July 10, 2003
By John Ruch
© 2003
Q: Some say it’s wrong to criticize the president during wartime. So who ran against FDR and Lincoln, and did they hurt the war effort?
—Peacenik
A: To be fair, such comments—insulting and ignorant though they may be—do not seem to be referring to presidential contenders. There’s certainly no serious suggestion that Bush should run unopposed next year. (Though the Bush White House certainly made hay out of Democratic candidate John Kerry’s recent “regime change” quip.)
War creates anxiety. Politically, anxiety can be masked by bashing critics. Or, it can be expressed—and usually is—by opposition-party gains and internal party disputes.
Such criticism and debate, even during the most nation-threatening conflicts, do not appear to have damaged anything not worth damaging, and in many cases was clearly necessary.
The Civil War is a strange case since the entire country opposed it—just from different perspectives. And the election of Lincoln was itself one of the war’s causes.
The opposition Democrats won many seats in the 1862 Congressional election, as the war faltered and outrage grew over Lincoln’s declaration of martial law and arbitrary arrests.
By the 1864 presidential election, Lincoln was facing dissent within his own party. And his Democratic challenger was George McClellan—a former Union general. But the Democrats were themselves so divided they came up with a paradoxical platform: they wanted peace, but also a preserved Union. As the war shifted in the Union’s favor, Lincoln was able to use this illogic against McClellan for the win.
In the 1940 election, both major parties were split internally over whether the US should enter World War II. Then came Pearl Harbor. By the 1944 presidential election, the mainstream no longer questioned our role in the war. Republican challenger Thomas Dewey had, like most of his GOP fellows, shifted from isolationist to interventionist.
Most of the Republican challenge to incumbent Franklin Roosevelt was domestic, but the war was still an issue. The Republican Congress launched an investigation of Pearl Harbor screw-ups just in time for the election.
Dewey didn’t campaign on it, but did assert that FDR had led us into war underprepared. The head of the Democratic National Committee said electing a Republican Congressional majority could threaten the war, and FDR continued to seek treason charges against anti-war activists, including congressmen.
The closest America came to suppressing opposition presidential candidates came from a war that didn’t happen. In 1798, a near-war with France was brewing as the conservative, monarchial President John Adams and his Federalist Party freaked out over the possibility of the French Revolution spreading globally.
The Federalists attacked Thomas Jefferson’s opposition Democratic-Republican Party with the Alien and Sedition Acts. These tyrannical laws severely restricted the rights of immigrants—a core Republican voting base—and outlawed virtually any criticism of the president, the government and their laws. Of course, Jefferson was hard to paint as an outside agitator—he was vice president at the time. Public outrage led to Jefferson’s victory in the 1800 election.
Such follies aside, we should be proud that no war has ever halted a presidential election—and that there has always been a challenger.
July 10, 2003
By John Ruch
© 2003
Q: Some say it’s wrong to criticize the president during wartime. So who ran against FDR and Lincoln, and did they hurt the war effort?
—Peacenik
A: To be fair, such comments—insulting and ignorant though they may be—do not seem to be referring to presidential contenders. There’s certainly no serious suggestion that Bush should run unopposed next year. (Though the Bush White House certainly made hay out of Democratic candidate John Kerry’s recent “regime change” quip.)
War creates anxiety. Politically, anxiety can be masked by bashing critics. Or, it can be expressed—and usually is—by opposition-party gains and internal party disputes.
Such criticism and debate, even during the most nation-threatening conflicts, do not appear to have damaged anything not worth damaging, and in many cases was clearly necessary.
The Civil War is a strange case since the entire country opposed it—just from different perspectives. And the election of Lincoln was itself one of the war’s causes.
The opposition Democrats won many seats in the 1862 Congressional election, as the war faltered and outrage grew over Lincoln’s declaration of martial law and arbitrary arrests.
By the 1864 presidential election, Lincoln was facing dissent within his own party. And his Democratic challenger was George McClellan—a former Union general. But the Democrats were themselves so divided they came up with a paradoxical platform: they wanted peace, but also a preserved Union. As the war shifted in the Union’s favor, Lincoln was able to use this illogic against McClellan for the win.
In the 1940 election, both major parties were split internally over whether the US should enter World War II. Then came Pearl Harbor. By the 1944 presidential election, the mainstream no longer questioned our role in the war. Republican challenger Thomas Dewey had, like most of his GOP fellows, shifted from isolationist to interventionist.
Most of the Republican challenge to incumbent Franklin Roosevelt was domestic, but the war was still an issue. The Republican Congress launched an investigation of Pearl Harbor screw-ups just in time for the election.
Dewey didn’t campaign on it, but did assert that FDR had led us into war underprepared. The head of the Democratic National Committee said electing a Republican Congressional majority could threaten the war, and FDR continued to seek treason charges against anti-war activists, including congressmen.
The closest America came to suppressing opposition presidential candidates came from a war that didn’t happen. In 1798, a near-war with France was brewing as the conservative, monarchial President John Adams and his Federalist Party freaked out over the possibility of the French Revolution spreading globally.
The Federalists attacked Thomas Jefferson’s opposition Democratic-Republican Party with the Alien and Sedition Acts. These tyrannical laws severely restricted the rights of immigrants—a core Republican voting base—and outlawed virtually any criticism of the president, the government and their laws. Of course, Jefferson was hard to paint as an outside agitator—he was vice president at the time. Public outrage led to Jefferson’s victory in the 1800 election.
Such follies aside, we should be proud that no war has ever halted a presidential election—and that there has always been a challenger.
Lincoln's Corpse Stolen
Stupid Question ™
April 10, 2003
By John Ruch
© 2003
Q: A few weeks ago, you wrote about Lincoln’s tomb. Is it true Lincoln’s corpse was once stolen from there?
—C.D.W.
A: No, Abraham Lincoln’s corpse was not stolen—but not for lack of trying.
Lincoln was assassinated in 1865. In 1871, after several years in a holding vault, he was interred in the monumental Lincoln Tomb in Springfield, Illinois’s Oak Ridge Cemetery. It wasn’t until 1874 that he was put inside a fancy sarcophagus at the heart of the towering tomb.
In 1876, an Illinois criminal gang hatched an audacious plot to steal Lincoln’s corpse and hold it for a ransom of $200,000 in gold. In the meantime, Lincoln’s body would be buried in a sack in the wilds of northern Indiana.
On Nov. 7, 1876, the gang broke into the tomb, forced the lid off the sarcophagus and started lifting out Lincoln’s wooden casket.
Unfortunately for them, they had blabbed about their plot so freely that the Secret Service had heard about it. Police swarmed in.
The bizarre incident spawned a rumor that the thieves had been successful and the body lost. This was reinforced by cemetery officials’ refusal to discuss the crime. There may also have been leaks of the truth: Lincoln’s coffin was not returned to the sarcophagus, but instead was secretly buried by officials who feared copycat body-snatching.
The coffin spent about two years in a disused work tunnel within the tomb, first hidden under some lumber, then buried in the dirt floor.
In 1886, his body was reinterred in the sarcophagus. But the crypt began crumbling in 1899, necessitating another secret burial, this time out in the cemetery.
Crypt repairs were finished in 1901. Lincoln’s son, Robert, still paranoid about thieves, ordered that Lincoln be reburied 10 feet under the empty sarcophagus and covered with tons of concrete.
With each relocation, workers opened the casket, sometimes out of morbid curiosity, sometimes to make sure Lincoln was still in there. But the rumor that he isn’t still flies, with speculation that his concrete-covered final send-off was a decoy for secret reburial elsewhere.
The idea of sealing Lincoln’s coffin in concrete was borrowed from the 1897 burial of railroad kingpin George Pullman, who had treated his workers so badly that he feared they would steal his body for ransom.
Ironically, Pullman feared such a thing because the Lincoln corpse-theft plot became a much-copied innovation. In 1978, classic comedian Charlie Chaplin’s corpse was held for $600,000 in Switzerland. In 2001, Italian banking king Enrico Cuccia’s corpse was held for $3.5 million. In both cases, the culprits were arrested and the bodies recovered.
April 10, 2003
By John Ruch
© 2003
Q: A few weeks ago, you wrote about Lincoln’s tomb. Is it true Lincoln’s corpse was once stolen from there?
—C.D.W.
A: No, Abraham Lincoln’s corpse was not stolen—but not for lack of trying.
Lincoln was assassinated in 1865. In 1871, after several years in a holding vault, he was interred in the monumental Lincoln Tomb in Springfield, Illinois’s Oak Ridge Cemetery. It wasn’t until 1874 that he was put inside a fancy sarcophagus at the heart of the towering tomb.
In 1876, an Illinois criminal gang hatched an audacious plot to steal Lincoln’s corpse and hold it for a ransom of $200,000 in gold. In the meantime, Lincoln’s body would be buried in a sack in the wilds of northern Indiana.
On Nov. 7, 1876, the gang broke into the tomb, forced the lid off the sarcophagus and started lifting out Lincoln’s wooden casket.
Unfortunately for them, they had blabbed about their plot so freely that the Secret Service had heard about it. Police swarmed in.
The bizarre incident spawned a rumor that the thieves had been successful and the body lost. This was reinforced by cemetery officials’ refusal to discuss the crime. There may also have been leaks of the truth: Lincoln’s coffin was not returned to the sarcophagus, but instead was secretly buried by officials who feared copycat body-snatching.
The coffin spent about two years in a disused work tunnel within the tomb, first hidden under some lumber, then buried in the dirt floor.
In 1886, his body was reinterred in the sarcophagus. But the crypt began crumbling in 1899, necessitating another secret burial, this time out in the cemetery.
Crypt repairs were finished in 1901. Lincoln’s son, Robert, still paranoid about thieves, ordered that Lincoln be reburied 10 feet under the empty sarcophagus and covered with tons of concrete.
With each relocation, workers opened the casket, sometimes out of morbid curiosity, sometimes to make sure Lincoln was still in there. But the rumor that he isn’t still flies, with speculation that his concrete-covered final send-off was a decoy for secret reburial elsewhere.
The idea of sealing Lincoln’s coffin in concrete was borrowed from the 1897 burial of railroad kingpin George Pullman, who had treated his workers so badly that he feared they would steal his body for ransom.
Ironically, Pullman feared such a thing because the Lincoln corpse-theft plot became a much-copied innovation. In 1978, classic comedian Charlie Chaplin’s corpse was held for $600,000 in Switzerland. In 2001, Italian banking king Enrico Cuccia’s corpse was held for $3.5 million. In both cases, the culprits were arrested and the bodies recovered.
Presidents: Left-Handed And Nicest Graves
Stupid Question ™
March 20, 2003
By John Ruch
© 2003
Q: How many presidents and first ladies were left-handed?
—Zoni Macaroni
And which dead president has the nicest grave?
—S.K.
A: This is surely the only circumstance in which Ronald Reagan can be called a lefty.
Reagan, Harry Truman, Gerald Ford, George Bush peré and Bill Clinton were the definite lefty presidents. That’s about 12 percent lefties of the 42 presidents, slightly higher than the 8 to 10 percent of the general population.
There are also claims that James Garfield and Herbert Hoover were left-handed, but I found nothing to prove that. Photos show Hoover acting as a righty.
As for the first ladies, not enough is known about many of them to make any comprehensive statement.
Reagan and Truman wrote with their right hands because they were taught—or forced—to do so in school. But in all other uses they were lefty. It is more accurate to say that, like many lefties, they were (or are) actually ambidextrous.
Ford writes lefty, but does many other things, including playing sports, as a righty.
There’s a legend that Garfield was ambidextrous, at least in terms of a stunt in which he would write in ancient Greek with one hand and in Latin with the other. (There’s a similar legend about Thomas Jefferson.)
I found no evidence for this, but if true, it still might not prove anything. Such parlor tricks were a Victorian-era fad learned by many people.
Lefty or not, Garfield was assassinated. That was enough to get him the fanciest of the presidential tombs, putting Grant’s little hut to shame.
His mausoleum in Cleveland’s Lake View Cemetery is a miniature Romanesque church with a 100-foot tower, a life-size marble statue of him, and high-quality decorations including stained-glass windows, a golden rotunda, friezes and murals.
The Lincoln Tomb in Springfield, Illinois is bigger—one of the biggest tombs in the world, in fact—but less nice. It’s a sort of sprawling statue collection surrounding a giant obelisk with terraces.
Chester Arthur’s grave in upstate New York may be the most artistic, featuring an Art Deco coffin over which a bronze angel slumps.
On the quiet side, John Kennedy’s “eternal flame” flickering among simple granite paving stones in Arlington National Cemetery may be the nicest statement of all.
Most presidential graves are plain, perhaps reflecting America’s humble citizen-leader ideal. The plainest is Calvin Coolidge’s simple headstone in Vermont, notable only for a discreet presidential seal.
Still, it can feel like things are out of whack. George Washington is in a plain brick crypt. But secessionist bumbler John Tyler got a huge obelisk featuring a bust of himself.
Only a few presidents left last words. The tombstone of Richard Nixon, who secretly bombed Southeast Asia and plotted attacks on political enemies, reads, “The greatest honor history can bestow is the title of peacemaker.”
And Benjamin Harrison’s makes a nice distinction: “Statesman, yet friend to truth.”
March 20, 2003
By John Ruch
© 2003
Q: How many presidents and first ladies were left-handed?
—Zoni Macaroni
And which dead president has the nicest grave?
—S.K.
A: This is surely the only circumstance in which Ronald Reagan can be called a lefty.
Reagan, Harry Truman, Gerald Ford, George Bush peré and Bill Clinton were the definite lefty presidents. That’s about 12 percent lefties of the 42 presidents, slightly higher than the 8 to 10 percent of the general population.
There are also claims that James Garfield and Herbert Hoover were left-handed, but I found nothing to prove that. Photos show Hoover acting as a righty.
As for the first ladies, not enough is known about many of them to make any comprehensive statement.
Reagan and Truman wrote with their right hands because they were taught—or forced—to do so in school. But in all other uses they were lefty. It is more accurate to say that, like many lefties, they were (or are) actually ambidextrous.
Ford writes lefty, but does many other things, including playing sports, as a righty.
There’s a legend that Garfield was ambidextrous, at least in terms of a stunt in which he would write in ancient Greek with one hand and in Latin with the other. (There’s a similar legend about Thomas Jefferson.)
I found no evidence for this, but if true, it still might not prove anything. Such parlor tricks were a Victorian-era fad learned by many people.
Lefty or not, Garfield was assassinated. That was enough to get him the fanciest of the presidential tombs, putting Grant’s little hut to shame.
His mausoleum in Cleveland’s Lake View Cemetery is a miniature Romanesque church with a 100-foot tower, a life-size marble statue of him, and high-quality decorations including stained-glass windows, a golden rotunda, friezes and murals.
The Lincoln Tomb in Springfield, Illinois is bigger—one of the biggest tombs in the world, in fact—but less nice. It’s a sort of sprawling statue collection surrounding a giant obelisk with terraces.
Chester Arthur’s grave in upstate New York may be the most artistic, featuring an Art Deco coffin over which a bronze angel slumps.
On the quiet side, John Kennedy’s “eternal flame” flickering among simple granite paving stones in Arlington National Cemetery may be the nicest statement of all.
Most presidential graves are plain, perhaps reflecting America’s humble citizen-leader ideal. The plainest is Calvin Coolidge’s simple headstone in Vermont, notable only for a discreet presidential seal.
Still, it can feel like things are out of whack. George Washington is in a plain brick crypt. But secessionist bumbler John Tyler got a huge obelisk featuring a bust of himself.
Only a few presidents left last words. The tombstone of Richard Nixon, who secretly bombed Southeast Asia and plotted attacks on political enemies, reads, “The greatest honor history can bestow is the title of peacemaker.”
And Benjamin Harrison’s makes a nice distinction: “Statesman, yet friend to truth.”