^ and the Election of 1866

HE TRADITIONAL image of Andrew Johnson's campaign tour during the congressional elections of 1866—the "swing Taround the circle," as it was called—is one of an ill-tempered, illiterate, semi-insane, and thoroughly undignified President thrash- ing madly through the North, harassed on all sides by gangs of ruffians instigated by the Radicals. The conclusion is that Johnson failed politically because he was unable to present his ideas in a sufficiently decorous manner. But it is questionable, when all is said and done, that political success is the natural result of political dig- nity. Certainly, the utterances of Thad Stevens or, better yet, Ben Butler during this campaign were not notably dignified, and, in any case, Johnson had spoken often in the North during the war and had been well received. What this suggests is that perhaps the real clue to his failure, in Philadelphia in particular and in the North in general, lies in what he was saying rather than in any fault of delivery. The essential issue was that of the Negro. The status of the Negro (the basic issue of Reconstruction and therefore of the 1866 election) was not decided in isolation but rather within the apprehensive atmosphere of the i86o's. Thus the "" should be viewed in the context of the Negro question and the general anxiety of the northern voter. The stage for the congressional elections of 1866 had been set by the clash between President Johnson and Congress in the spring of that year. By the time the 39th Congress adjourned in July, it was quite evident that the President had lost the first round. The Radi- cals had succeeded in marshalling enough votes to pass a 's Bureau Bill and a Civil Rights Bill over his veto, and had proposed the Fourteenth Amendment to the Constitution. Foiled in Congress, Johnson looked to the fall elections for an op- portunity to recover lost ground. As had been his custom from the earliest days of his political experience in Tennessee, the President 365 366 CHARLES D. CASHDOLLAR July determined to carry his fight to the people, confident that they would respond favorably, as indeed they always had. Early in June he had accepted an invitation to attend the corner- stone ceremony for a monument to the late Senator Stephen A. Douglas. Before long the idea emerged of expanding this trip to into a campaign tour of the North. The presidential party, including the military heroes Grant and Farragut as well as several cabinet officials, would go to Chicago by way of , Phila- phia, , Albany, Buffalo, and , making whistle stops at smaller towns along the way. The policy which Johnson was planning to carry to Philadelphia and the other northern cities reflected a deep psychological conflict within the President. Consistent with his background as a Jackson- ian Democrat, he bore a deep-seated desire to raise the status of the southern poor white and a correspondingly intense antagonism to the special privilege of the slaveholding aristocracy.1 For Johnson's purposes, the abolition of slavery seemed an ideal means of helping the poor white. The emancipation of slaves, he re- marked, would "break down an odious and dangerous aristocracy ... [and] free more whites than blacks in Tennessee."2 In this frame of mind, he became one of the most vehement advocates of a harsh policy toward the southern confederacy which was dominated by that slaveholding gentry he hated. But his plans for a postwar southern society based upon greater economic and social equality had one tragic flaw: they contained no provision for the Negro. At this point his Jacksonianism, basically a secular, materialistic philosophy, fell apart. Faced with the highly emotional, moral dilemma of Negro equality, it proved no better guide to Johnson than it had to the Democratic Party in i860. Johnson, like the Democrats, found himself in an irreconcilable quandry. He had never been more than secondarily interested in the Negro; emancipation was merely a convenient method of crushing the slave-

1 For the best account of Johnson's Jacksonian philosophy, see Kenneth Stampp, Era of Reconstruction, 1865-1877 (New York, 1965), 50-82. 2 Quoted by , The Tragic Era (Cambridge, 1929), 34. For the best account of Johnson and the Negro during Reconstruction, see La Wanda and John Cox, Politics, Prin- ciple, and Prejudice, 1865-1866: The Dilemma of Reconstruction America (New York, 1963). 1968 PHILADELPHIA ELECTION OF I 866 367 holder. It had not been so much a question of helping the Negro, but of helping the poor white. It became evident, however, that a rise in the status of the poor white by abolition also meant a rise in the status of the Negro. Here Johnson balked. It had been all well and good to talk of equality between white gentry and white small farmers, but to include the Negro in that equality was quite another matter. So it was that he vetoed the Freedman's Bureau Bill and the Civil Rights Bill in the spring of 1866. Of course, many others shared Johnson's seemingly contradictory phobias for the southern slaveholder and the slave. Yet Johnson alone was forced, despite what must have been a great sense of personal frustration, to articulate a policy—and it had to be done by the time he left for Chicago. Yet, in a real sense, Johnson never resolved that dilemma: his "swing around the circle" showed again and again that he was simply avoiding the realities and focusing on constitutional technicalities. The result was that he was unable to speak meaning- fully to either those favoring Negro equality or to those opposing it. In Johnson's state of perplexity, it was not at all atypical for him to seek to redirect himself to a different, and less exasperating goal, one that seemed to embody good political strategy. He decided to take his stand on the Constitution and the Union; certainly no one could oppose him on those points. If the nation was fearful of war, he would speak of peace and the Union. If the nation was anxious about the future, he would talk of stability and the Constitution. There was no need to stir up controversy or further fears. It was easier to forget, forget the Negro and the Rebels, in fact, forget the whole frustrating war. What could be safer than to stand with one foot firmly on the Constitution, the other on the Union, and speak of peace? The , however, were not to permit Johnson's evasive strategy to pass unnoticed. "They forget the 300,000 graves of our slain, and the hundred glorious battlefields, of the war" one was to deplore. "They forget it, but we do not."3 The Radicals also recognized the inseparable connection between the status of the southern white and the Negro. Yet for them it held the promise of ful- fillment rather than frustration. It is a hard and extremely crucial

3 Speech at the Southern Loyalists' Convention, Sept. 3, 1866, by Horace Maynard, Public Ledger, Sept. 4, 1866. All newspapers listed in the notes were printed in Philadelphia unless otherwise noted. 368 CHARLES D. CASHDOLLAR July fact of the entire Civil War and Reconstruction period that the ma- jority of the northern voters shared Johnson's Negrophobia and did not favor racial equality. As William D. Kelley of Pennsylvania candidly remarked: "The enemy that we are grappling with is pride of race, unchristian and anti-republican prejudice against all races of men save our own."4 For the Radicals, then, fear of the South became the phobia which they would use to camouflage their desire for Negro equality. They would exploit the fear of the South and do everything possible to minimize the fear of the Negro. So long as nothing aroused the latent northern antipathy for the Negro, the strategy was perfect. The Radicals' greatest fear was that Johnson would force the Negro issue into the campaign. If the President was going to avoid the Negro, the Radicals were, for once, happy to follow his lead. It is this combination of contradictory fears which holds the key to an understanding of the Philadelphia which Johnson was about to visit. In the summer of 1866 Philadelphia was an uneasy city. Each day the two-penny newspapers carried reports on the progress of the cholera epidemic in the Mid-West. August 20: 648 had died during the past week in St. Louis alone and there was talk of the epidemic spreading eastward. August 27: the death toll in St. Louis was 919, unofficial estimates for the week were running as high as 1,300. had been hit with the cholera and had declared a state of ^emergency. Then came the horrible reality: five were dead in Philadelphia; the next day seven more had died and twenty-one new cases of cholera had been discovered. Where would it stop? What was the health department going to do ?5 The spread of the cholera panic to Philadelphia was symbolic of the myriad of fears and uncertainties the citizens of the city faced that summer. Philadelphians followed the progress of the Fenian raids along the Canadian border and read about the President's de- cision to arrest the Irish-American leaders. They read about Maxi- milian and the threats of war with Mexico. And ever before them, like a nightmare that refused to vanish with the dawn, was the South. Reports of unrest poured in from the old confederacy. "No man," a southerner wrote to William D. Kelley, "is safe here from assassina-

4 Quoted by Ira V. Brown, "William D. Kelley and Radical Reconstruction," Pennsylvania Magazine of History and Biography (PMHB), LXXXV (1961), 322-323. 5 Public Ledger and Inquirer, Aug. 15-20, 1866. 1968 PHILADELPHIA ELECTION OF I 866 369 tion by night or by day who is deemed useful to the cause of Congress or opposed to that of the President and ."6 To anyone reading the newspapers, it seemed that this was true. Day after day reports of southern atrocities poured into the con- sciousness of Philadelphians. A northern clergyman had been mur- dered in Missouri. Three loyalists were lynched in Kentucky. In Virginia a barbarous "Female F.F.V." had stripped her freed slaves naked, whipped them and seared their bodies with hot coals. A Freedman's Bureau officer had been beaten right in his own office by the mayor of Nashville. In Savannah, two Union soldiers had been found dead with a note pinned to their chests: "THUS THE SOUTH RETALIATES."7 Of course, everyone had read about the terrible riots in New Or- leans. Week after week the newspapers carried the tales of "America's St. Bartholomew's." Radicals accused the President of starting the riot; the President accused the Radicals. Investigation followed in- vestigation and charge followed charge through the printer's ink, searing deeply into the public mind.8 Perhaps the confederacy was planning to rise again. Former Rebel leaders were appearing everywhere. General Forrest had been elected to head a convention in Memphis, and Texas had elected the chair- man of its secession convention to Congress.9 Even President Johnson was a southerner. The Rebels still seemed very terrifying. Had not Colonel William B. Thomas had to mobilize the Philadel- phia militia and drill them three times a day to prepare for the Johnson Convention, the National Union movement, when all those Rebels were in the city early in August?10 Harper s Weekly showed Jeff Davis lounging in prison, fanned by servants, and sipping cool tea.11 Certainly one had cause to wonder. But these were not the only disconcerting reports from the South. The aAge carried a front-page story describing Negroes howling through the streets, "firing indiscriminately upon the whites . . .

6 Inquirer', Aug. 25, 1866. 7 Inquirer, Aug. 9, 1866; Press, July 22, 1866; North American, Aug. 30, 1866. 8 Information on the New Orleans riots received daily coverage with only minor exceptions in every Philadelphia newspaper from the first of August until election day in October. 9 North American, Aug. 30, 1866; Inquirer, Aug. 28, 1866. 10 Roy F. Nichols, "A Great Party Which Might Have Been Born in Philadelphia," PMHB, LVII (1933), 3^. 11 Harper's Weekly, June 30, 1866. 37O CHARLES D. CASHDOLLAR July and citizens fleeing to the woods for safety."12 This too struck terror into the minds of Philadelphians. It was not difficult to imagine such a scene in their city. In South Philadelphia, Southwark, and Moyamensing were 15,000 colored persons. Racial riots had raged through the streets of Philadelphia in 1834, 1835, J$3%> l%42> and 1849. ^n a clty where no publisher could be found for Uncle Horn's Cabin the want of sympathy for the Negro was all too apparent.13 The most obvious form of local prejudice was the ruling barring Negro riders from the street cars. Of course they could hang on the side if they chose, but never could they enter the cars. Just a year earlier, in 1865, the street car lines had taken a poll on the matter and Philadelphians had soundly rejected Negro riders.14 A problem of this type naturally had political potential. The Democrats habitually alluded to the matter in their campaigns. The c/fg-tf, Philadelphia's Democratic organ, worked diligently in 1866 to stir up latent Negrophobia.15 If the local Democrats realized the value of anti-Negro sentiment, the Radicals feared its effect on their campaign. Earlier, in 1863, Philadelphia's reaction to the Emancipation Proclamation had come close to unseating Governor Andrew Curtin, and probably would have done so had the victory at Gettysburg not overshadowed it.16 The semi-official Radical campaign club in Philadelphia, the Union League, was very careful of the Negro issue. Its members had hesitated several times before attempting to organize a company of Negro troops in Philadelphia. When Negro troops finally did march through the city in 1863, Mayor Alexander Henry was fearful they would be attacked by whites. In an attempt to calm the protests of

V* Age, Aug. 10, 1866. 13 Ellis Oberholtzer, Philadelphia: A History of the City and its People, A Record of 225 Years (Philadelphia, 1912), II, 281-291; John Read to George Cadwalader, July 24, 1863, Cad- walader Collection, Historical Society of Pennsylvania; William Dusinberre, Civil War Issues in Philadelphia, 1856-1865 (Philadelphia, 1965), 21. 14 Ira V. Brown, "Pennsylvania and the Rights of the Negro, 1865-1870," Pennsylvania History, XXVIII (1961), 48; Equal Rights League Minute Book, American Negro Historical Society Papers, HSP. 15 Age, Aug. 14, 1866. 16 Dusinberre, 154-160, 171; Erwin S. Bradley, Triumph of Militant Republicanism: A Study of Pennsylvania and Presidential Politics, 1860-187'2 (Philadelphia, 1964), 152,178. 1968 PHILADELPHIA ELECTION OF I 866 37I such conservatives, the Negroes marched without arms and, despite some heckling, no serious trouble erupted.17 By 1866 the question had evolved into one of Negro rights and Negro . In a speech at the Philadelphia Johnson Club, a con- servative remarked that "the white race alone is entitled to the con- trol of the government of the republic."18 The oAge warned that if the Radicals gained control they would allow Negroes to vote in Penn- sylvania.19 A Democratic Soldiers' and Sailors' Convention, meeting in Harrisburg, resolved "that we are opposed to negro suffrage and all legislation that has for its object the raising of the negro to social or political equality with the white man. . . ."20 It seemed that Philadelphia feared the Negro as much, if not more, than it feared the South. The zAge worked eagerly to ensure that the Negro question would be the key issue in 1866. An zAge editorial proudly laid down the challenge: [Negro equality] is a notion wholly false and pernicious. This is our opinion, frankly spoken, of the Negro equality "which the Republicans are laboring to realize." We are willing to make it a "test question." Let no candidate for office evade it.21 But this was exactly what Andrew Johnson planned to do. The presidential party left Washington's Baltimore and Ohio Station for Philadelphia, their first major stop on the northern tour, early on the morning of August 28. Secretaries Browning and McCulloch saw the party off but did not accompany the President as they had originally promised. Stanton, his wife ill (Welles thought conveniently so), also begged off.22 Nonetheless, Johnson was accom- panied by an illustrious group, including cabinet members Seward, Welles, and Randall, in addition to the war heroes Grant and Farragut.

!7 George Lathrop, History of the Union League of Philadelphia from its Origin and Founda- tion to the Year 1882 (Philadelphia, 1884), 75-77, 79-81; Alexander Henry to George Cad- walader, July 30, 1863, Cadwalader Collection. 18^, Aug. 16, 1866. 10 Ibid., Aug. 14, 1866. 20 Inquirer, Aug. 2, 1866. 21^, Aug. 14, 1866. 22 Public Ledger, Aug. 1% 1866; , Diary of Gideon Welles (Boston, 1911), II, 587. 37^ CHARLES D. CASHDOLLAR July Meanwhile, in Philadelphia last minute efforts were being made to see that all was in readiness for the President's visit. The plans were under the direction of General George Gordon Meade, commander of the Philadelphia military district. Meade assembled contingents of regulars, volunteers, marines, and cavalry to accord the proper military honors to the Commander in Chief.23 Meade also encouraged civilian officials to participate in greeting Johnson. However, the Mayor of Philadelphia, Morton McMichael, planned to be conveniently out of town. The official explanation was that the Radical mayor was exhausted from his war-time activities and this was the only chance for a vacation before fall.24 The Demo- cratic zAge professed sorrow for this poor "soldier resting from war's alarms—a Mayor in repose, worn out with hard municipal service, broken down by reading city ordinances and visiting police sta- tions. . . ." It hoped that he would not overexert himself hurrying back to attend the Radical convention scheduled for the next week!25 In the Mayor's absence, a group of 200 merchants had assembled the day before in the Merchant's Exchange to ensure that Johnson be properly welcomed. (Significantly this group was led by the presi- dent of the discriminatory Chestnut and Walnut Street Railway.) The merchants elected a committee of thirteen to attend to the de- tails and to represent them the next day.26 But if the members of the Merchant's Exchange showed eagerness for the President's visit, such was not the case with most of the city's merchants. The Corn Exchange and the Stock Board refused to ad- journ even on the day of his visit.27 The absence of these key mer- chants and city officials serves as a reminder of the unfriendly political situation Johnson faced in the North. The Radicals had gained control of the 39th Congress and the Republican Party during the spring and summer of 1866. Having captured the initiative, they pulled with them local party organiza- tions and a major portion of the influential citizens and newspapers.

23 Public Ledgery Aug. 29, 1866. 24 Press, North American, Aug. 29, 1866. 25 Age, Aug. 31, 1866. Seward was quoted as commenting later in New York: "Blessed is that city that can dispense with a ruler." Ibid, 26 North American, Aug. 28, 1866. 27 Evening Bulletin, Aug. 28, 1866; North American, Aug. 29, 1866. 1968 PHILADELPHIA ELECTION OF I 866 373 Johnson's task, and by no means an easy one, was to reverse this leftward movement. It would not be enough for his "swing around the circle" to maintain present support; he had to create additional strength, a task which called for bold, decisive action. The Radical strength in Philadelphia in August, 1866, was con- siderable but not insurmountable. Mayor McMichael and the major- ity of the Select and Common Councils were Republicans aligned with the Radicals. McMichael and many of these men were closely connected with the Union League. McMichael himself owned and edited the North American, a pro-Radical daily catering almost ex- clusively to the commercial interests in the city.28 More influential in propagating Radical ideas among the masses were James Forney's 'Press and the Inquirer, a two-penny daily.29 Both of these papers stressed the New Orleans riots in all their gory detail and dwelt upon the impending rise of the Rebels. Forney, the "dead duck" of Johnson's Washington Birthday speech, was also harsh in his personal attack on the President, at times accusing him of drunkenness.30 The two evening papers, the Evening "Bulletin and the Evening Telegraph leaned toward the Radicals, although in a much more re- strained manner. Their editorials generally included complicated logical arguments, allusions to Shakespeare's Othello, and untrans- lated quotations from French Enlightenment philosophers. With their literary columns, articles on Paris fashions and pearl culture, they, like the North American, were directed toward a restricted, although undoubtedly influential, audience. At stake in the elections that fall were the governorship of Penn- sylvania, seats in the House of Representatives and positions in the state legislature. Local and state issues were virtually nonexistent. The candidates aligned themselves according to their views on Re- construction and seemed willing to stand or fall on that basis. The Republicans nominated John White Geary as their guberna- torial candidate. Geary, long a Democrat, had been induced to ac-

28 McMichael's paper was a large blanket sheet (24" x 30") and was sold by subscription only, not in the streets. Elwyn Robinson, "The North American," PMHB, LXIV U94°)J 34S-3SS- 29 Elwyn Robinson, "The Press," ibid., LXIV (1941), 157-170. 30 See, for instance, Press, Aug. 27, 1866. 374 CHARLES D. CASHDOLLAR July cept the nomination by his neighbor, Radical Congressman John Covode of Westmoreland County. His prime qualification was his adventurous, if not always illustrious, record as Mayor of San Francisco, Governor of "Bleeding Kansas," and Union general who fought at Gettysburg and accompanied Sherman to the sea.31 The Democrats nominated Heister Clymer, a handsome, gentle- manly lawyer. The Princeton-educated Clymer was articulate and competent, but unfortunately he was not a military hero. Clymer had the support of the Johnson Republicans led by the renegade Senator Edgar Cowan.32 Despite the fact that Clymer had spent the war in the state senate rather than on the battlefield, the picture was not entirely black. Johnson and his followers enjoyed the support of a series of "Johnson- Clymer Clubs" which, although not so well organized as the Union League, were none the less formidable. They also had the support of two key Philadelphia newspapers. The most openly pro-Johnson of these was the <*Age. Admittedly anti-Negro, this paper worked diligently to exploit the fear of the Negro, but was handicapped by the President's silence on that issue. Johnson also enjoyed the more guarded support of the Tublic J^edger, Philadelphia's second two-penny daily. Although avowedly inde- pendent, its treatment of news items was favorable to Johnson. It followed the President's basic line of peace, Union, and the Constitu- tion and seemed as adept as he was at avoiding controversy. It is interesting to note that the silent partner in the Tublic ledger's management was A. J. Drexel, chairman of the merchants' thirteen- man committee to welcome Andrew Johnson.33 Drexel's committee held its final meeting early on the morning of August 28 to consolidate its plans for Johnson's visit. Drexel and eight others then went to Wilmington to meet the President there and accompany him to the city, where he was due to arrive at one o'clock that afternoon.34

31 Bradley, 261, 263, 267. 32 Ibid.) 261, 268-272; B. F. Pershing, "Senator Edgar Cowan," Western "Pennsylvania Historical Magazine', IV (1921), 224-233. 33 Public Ledger, Aug. 29, 1866; Elwyn Robinson, "The Public Ledger," PMHB, LXIV (1940), 43-55- 34 Public Ledger, Aug. 29, 1866. 1968 PHILADELPHIA ELECTION OF 1866 375 By noon, when the military and civilian welcoming committees arrived at the Broad and Pine Street Depot, a large crowd had al- ready gathered. The President was late but even the long wait under a broiling August sun did not diminish the jovial spirits of the throng. It could even laugh at its premature hurrahs for two freight trains.35 Finally, an hour and a half behind schedule, the presidential special steamed into the station. Meade stamped out his cigar, dis- appeared into the car, and returned with President Johnson. Imme- diately the crowd gave three cheers and the band struck up "Hail to the Chief."36 When the music and uproar subsided, Colonel A. J. Page, sporting his special silk badge designating him as one of the official committee, welcomed Johnson as the "chosen Chief Magistrate of a mighty and free people." Johnson tendered his "sincere and heartfelt thanks." He had been pleased to notice an allusion in Page's remarks to peace and was certainly in agreement:

We have had war; now we shall have peace; and I may say that every effort has been and will continue to be made by me to bring about peace to our distracted country. Again I thank you for the welcome you have extended to me.37

Two cannon boomed a twenty-one-gun salute while Johnson, carrying his black hat, made his way with Seward, Grant, and Farragut into a four-horse barouche. In a few minutes the entourage began to move up Broad Street.38 By any standard the crowds and the procession would have been creditable; considering the spontaneity of the affair both were re- markable. Police, firemen, sailors, seven musical groups, marines,

35 Ibid., Age, Press, Aug. 29, 1866. Bowers (p. 131) insists that this discrepancy in time was a deliberate trick by the Radicals to put out false information to prevent the reception of Johnson. There is no evidence of this in Philadelphia papers, and pro-Johnson dailies made no such accusations. Rather, they preferred to explain the delay by the large crowds to the south, an explanation supported by the telegraph dispatches. 36 Public Ledger', Inquirer, Age, Press, Aug. 29, 1866. 37 Public Ledger, Aug. 29, 1866. All Johnson quotations are taken from the Public Ledger. There is some variance in the detail of his remarks among the various dailies. A great deal of this is due to the difficulty of hearing in the crowd; the reporter of the Evening Bulletin admits as much. The Press and Age seem to have touched up his speech to suit their own purposes. 38 Ibid. 376 CHARLES D. CASHDOLLAR July National Guard, political clubs, and a very proud Journeymen Tailors' Protective Association escorted the President up a flag- bedecked Broad Street, past the empty Union League House, down Chestnut to the Continental Hotel.39 The crowd filled Chestnut Street for two blocks on either side of the hotel and offered cheer after cheer for "Andy," Seward, Grant, and Farragut when they appeared on the balcony. In response to cries for a speech Johnson stepped to the front of the balcony as the crowd quieted.40 Johnson's speech, the first major expression of "My Policy" on the "swing around the circle," had two major themes. First was an emphasis on peace. We have passed through a fierce and bloody conflict. We clamored and struggled for peace. The war is now over; peace has been made. I trust in God that war will not return again. [Cheers] . . . and that prosperity, harmony and reconciliation will bless the land. . . . The second and complementary theme was an appeal to forget the troubles of the past, to turn away from radicals who formed leagues (that is, Union Leagues) to "subvert the Constitution of the Union," and to return to the solid and true government based upon the Con- stitution and the Union. Whatever else, "let us stand together around the common altar of our country, and swear that all shall perish, all shall fall into the dust, but the Constitution and the Union of these States shall be preserved. [Cheers]" A good deal of his Jacksonianism continued to slip through when he advised the laboring classes to rise against political tyranny, and when he wondered what had become of the good old doctrine of "rotation in office." Above all, his great faith in the common man to choose wisely at the polls was evident. He avoided directing the people how to vote. Although he referred to the Union League as a conspiracy, almost as a jest, he never associated himself with the Johnson-Clymer Clubs or the Democratic candidates for office. Rather, he urged the people to rise above the "behest of party." He was certain that they would choose wisely.

39 North American, Age, Press, Aug. 29, 1866. 40 The account of Johnson at the Continental Hotel is taken from the Public Ledger, Aug. 29, 1866. 1968 PHILADELPHIA ELECTION OF I 866 377 Peace, Union, and the Constitution, these were his key words and on that basis "let us stand together; let us approach a common plat- form; let us forget that we have been divided. . . ." But it was difficult to forget. The newspapers, New Orleans, all the political orations, the stories of southern violence one heard as he walked along the street made it virtually impossible. Even while the Presi- dent was speaking it was all too easy to let one's eyes stray to the side where General Grant, Admiral Farragut, and General Meade were standing. And there on the other side of the President was Seward with the assassin's scar plainly visible on his lean face. It was much easier to remember. That was what the Radicals were de- pending upon. After his speech, Johnson retired inside the hotel and was feted at a banquet. Early in the evening he agreed to shake hands and stood for more than an hour greeting a seemingly unending line of people filing through the lobby. By eight o'clock Chestnut Street was again filled with people and Johnson returned to the balcony to listen to the serenade by the Young Maennenchor Singing Society. After making a few light remarks to the ever-present Journeymen Tailors' Protective Association and again thanking the crowd for its hospi- tality, the President bade them good night. Early the next morning, Johnson rode to the Walnut Street Wharf and boarded a ferry for the New Jersey side. His departure was al- most unnoticed. As such, it was almost too symbolic; a day or so later, his visit had slipped just as quietly out of the newspapers. The Radical papers of August 29 carried the details of the visit but tended to minimize its importance. The Tress, for instance, said it created "far less excitement than a new circus, and awaken[edl no more genuine enthusiasm."41 The Jiprth ^American conceded that the parade was good and at least Johnson had provided some excitement on an otherwise dull day.42 The Evening ^Bulletin, always quick to catch any inconsistency in the speeches of its opponents, delighted in reprinting a speech Johnson made in Philadelphia in 1863 when he said "There is only one way to meet traitors, and that is to meet them at the threshhold and if nothing else will do, to throttle and hang them." Which, they wondered, was the real Andy? But on the

41 Press, Aug. 29, 1866. 42 North American, Aug. 29, 1866. 37^ CHARLES D. CASHDOLLAR July whole the bulletin's attention that day was given to a riot at Sing Sing Prison and another Fenian raid along the Canadian border.43 Contrary to what one might expect from the popular historical notion, there was no real attack on the President. Rather, the Phila- delphia Radicals were content, even eager, to portray his visit to the city as dull and insignificant. The Radical papers in Philadelphia treated the rest of the "swing around the circle" in the same manner. Even James Forney's head- line marking the end of the presidential trip—"OH MY, THE LONG AGONY OVER!"—was directed not so much against any vulgarity but against the boring, irrelevant, nature of the whole business.44 But this, of course, is the supreme insult for a politician; his words were not even important enough to merit a rebuttal. In case Johnson's tour had misled anyone as to the real issue in the campaign, Petroleum V. Nasby was to remind them of what was at stake. Nasby, who was serving as Johnson's "chaplain" on the tour, suddenly had to leave the President and return to "Confederit X Roads" because "there is five Northern families near the Corners wich must hev notice to leave, and eight niggers to hang."45 In brief, the President's trip was not going to be allowed to disturb the "bloody shirt" strategy. In Philadelphia Johnson's recent presence was quickly over- shadowed by the vociferous Republican nominating caucuses for congressional candidates and the Southern Loyalist Convention which met there on September 3. Again the "bloody shirt" was waved freely. The conventioners spoke at length about "Rebel Re- construction," the "Massacre of New Orleans," and the "Rebel- johns." They ignored Johnson's trip except for oblique attacks such as posting Stephen A. Douglas' slogan that "There can be no neu- trals—only patriots or traitors."46 Philadelphia's Radicals continued to whip up fear of the South until the very day of the election. In the midst of this political activity, the effectiveness of Johnson's appear- ance in Philadelphia was lost.

43 Evening Bulletin, Aug. 29, 1866. 44 Press, Sept. 16, 1866. 45 Petroleum V. Nasby [D. R. Locke], "Swingin Round the Cirkle" (Boston, 1867), 221. The Nasby letters were carried in the Press in Philadelphia. 46 Public Ledger, Press, Sept. 4, 1866. 1968 PHILADELPHIA ELECTION OF 1866 379 Naturally, one would not have expected the Radicals to be joyful about his visit and a cold sort of treatment in the Radical newspapers was probably anticipated. More revealing of the utter failure of Johnson's "swing around the circle" was the response of Philadel- phia's other two newspapers, the Tublic J^edger and the oAge. If the President had not been able to give ammunition to the Radical Republican press, he had not given the journals inclined to support him anything substantial either. So slight was the political impact of his visit that two days later one would hardly have known he had been in Philadelphia. The Democratic papers found themselves caught up in the whirl- wind of Radical propaganda streaming from the Southern Loyalist Convention without the slightest help from Johnson. He had not met with the Johnson-Clymer Clubs; he had not even mentioned Heister Clymer or any other candidate for that matter. Lacking encourage- ment from him, the Tublic J^edger continued to equivocate for a time before edging more and more into the Radical camp. The oAge faced the controversy just as if Johnson had never been on the scene. Its Negrophobia increased as election time approached. Fred Douglass* appearance at the September 3 convention appalled the paper, and even more horrifying was the fact that he had actually been cheered! Satirically, the oAge expressed pleasure that Morton McMichael had "recuperated" sufficiently to extend the city's official welcome to the "distinguished" Douglass. The Radicals had indeed begun to "show their colors."47 The editors of the zAge began to address their columns to "White Union Men" and "White Boys in Blue." They wrote long, vivid edi- torials pointing out the horrors of Negro rule in Haiti. The Radicals, they claimed, were running a "Torch and Turpentine" campaign and Geary's words "smelled of gunpowder." Stevens and his fellow Radicals were planning to arm and organize the Negroes to "give the North a taste of St. Domingo."48 To Philadelphians well aware of the Negro population south of Walnut Street, these words carried a stern warning. They also caused considerable alarm in the Radical camp. The Negro question was precisely what the Radicals were trying to avoid. ^ Age, Sept. 4, 1866. 48 Ibid., Sept. 29, Oct. 2, 3, 4, 1866. 380 CHARLES D. CASHDOLLAR July Yet if they had been able to scoff off Johnson's accusations that they were attempting to overthrow the government and finish the Union, these charges against the Negroes were too serious and too dangerous to allow to pass unanswered. The Svening Telegraph, for example, viewed such barbs as simply Democratic confusion. It was quite evident that the Fourteenth Amendment merely protected the Negro against the Rebels. The Amendment did not mean that the Negro was going to vote, or sit on a jury, and certainly not to hold office. It was primarily aimed at punishing Confederates.49 James Forney, editor of the 'Press, addressed a political rally on September 23. He was beginning to wonder what was the matter with intelligent Philadelphians. Had they forgotten the crimes of the Rebels and the long years of the war? "Why gentlemen, when I hear a Union man expressing alarm at the idea of letting a negro vote, and closing his eyes to all these considerations, I sometimes doubt whether we are living in the age of newspapers and common schools."50 How could one allow his vote to be swayed by such trivial matters as suffrage when the Rebels had been disloyal, had lied to God, assassinated our President, and murdered our prisoners? Even the Negro had not done this. "The real question," the Press re- minded its readers on election morning, "is whether traitors or loyal men shall rule the country."51 The election campaign had become a contest of fear versus fear: fear of the Negro against a fear of the South. In this frenzy of emo- tion, Johnson's pleas for peace and stability were lost. It is one of the curiosities of human behavior that in a time when the northern people were anxiously searching for stability and peace, they con- sidered the one person offering reconciliation irrelevant to their problem. In the traumatic postwar world, a people in search of peace found it more satisfying to lash out with all their pent-up emotion at whomever or whatever they thought to be the cause of their trouble, be it Johnson or the Radicals, the Negro or the South. It is a rather simple principle that it is easier to agitate than to calm a fearful mass of voters. There lies the key to the failure of Andrew Johnson's "swing around the circle."

49 Evening Telegraph, Sept. 27, 1866. 50 Evening Bulletin, Sept. 23, 1866. 51 Press > Oct. 9, 1866. 1968 PHILADELPHIA ELECTION OF I 866 38 I The campaign of 1866 was one of the most bitterly fought and most violent in the history of American political contests. In Phila- delphia, as early as September 7, tempers were so raw that the Union League House was attacked and burned by a conservative mob.52 From this point the fury of the campaign continued to mount until the October 9 election date. The partisan dailies gravitated to in- creasingly vicious extremes. The Press, remembering that Gettys- burg had turned the tide for Curtin in 1863, refought the battle in all its bloody glory in a series of Sunday features, strategically coming to the climax just before election day. About a week and a half before the election, the Republican press played its trump card. It printed (and continued to do so daily until election Tuesday) a quotation which it claimed reflected General Grant's opinion of Heister Clymer: "To ask any soldier to vote for such a man, of at one time known disloyalty, against another who had served four years in the Union army with credit to himself and benefit to his country, was a gross insult."53 The

52 Lathrop, 96-97. 63 Evening Bulletin, Oct. 2,1866; see also the Press and the Inquirer just prior to the election for examples of this usage. *>*Age, Oct. 3-9, 1866. 382 CHARLES D. CASHDOLLAR July insistence on running a nonemotional campaign in an emotional election. Somehow, when all the fear and tensions were counted up as votes, Johnson's abstractions of Constitutional Unionism simply did not matter. Rather obviously, the only fear in Philadelphia that could com- pare with the terror of the South in 1866 was the dread of Negro equality. It is interesting, and not a little helpful, at this point to speculate on what might have happened had a purely Machiavellian Johnson stressed his views on this issue and thrown the power and prestige of the presidency behind the efforts of the Johnson-Clymer partisans. One need only recall the refusal of Philadelphians to allow Negroes to ride their streetcars in a vote but a short time before to visualize the possibilities. Certainly the Radicals were anxious to divert attention from the status of the Negro. Even more suggestive of lost political possibilities is that in the following year, when the question of Negro suffrage was being dis- cussed in the state legislature and those who had been elected in 1866 were talking about allowing Negroes on the streetcars, the Demo- crats won the election. recognized the lesson in- herent in the returns: "The opposition to J^egro Suffrage in the South, as well as in the North, has been the principal cause of our triumph everywhere. Abandon this, & we are gone."55 It was becoming increasingly clear that the Radical victory in 1866, not only in Philadelphia but throughout a large portion of the North, had been achieved only because of their ability to avoid the Negro issue and to camouflage the racial implications of the Four- teenth Amendment. James Forney, brooding over the Republican defeat in 1867, recognized the warning. "I saw enough," he wrote, "to convince me that unless we could secure some good strong name the Republican party was bankrupt."56 There was going to be more work for the "bloody shirt" in 1868. David Donald in his recent study of Reconstruction, characterized Johnson as a "virtuoso of politics," avoiding controversy and keeping his views so vague that everyone could support them.57 In truth,

55 Buchanan to Augustus Schell, Nov. 9, 1867, John Bassett Moore, ed., The Works of James Buchanan (Philadelphia, 1910), XI, 455. 56 John W. Forney, Anecdotes of Public Men (New York, 1873), 286, 57 David Donald, The Politics of Reconstruction, 1863-1867 (Baton Rouge, 1965), 23. 1968 PHILADELPHIA ELECTION OF I 866 383 everyone could, but in the height of the emotional tension, not enough did. Johnson was essentially a warmed-over John Bell, and he fared little better in the year 1866 than Bell had in the emotional tension six years earlier. As the Evening Telegraph commented, the Johnson men were good enough men, but their ideas were a bit "fossilized."58 There lies the key to the failure of the "swing around the circle." But fortunately for the future of the American Negro, Andrew Johnson, his plans for white equality in the postwar South ruined by Radical idealism and unable to resolve his own internal frustration, had not seen it that way. Possibly he could never see the Negro as a central part of anything.

University of "Pennsylvania CHARLES D. CASHDOLLAR

58 Evening Telegraph Aug. 13, 1866.