Posts Tagged ‘Vice Presidents’

Know Your VPs: John Nance Carter

Friday, February 24th, 2017

This month, we’re profiling a few of the many men who have sat around waiting for the President to die or quit so that he could have his own day in the sun.

Today’s post is about John Nance Carter (1868-1967), aka “Cactus Jack,” the 32nd Vice President of the United States, who served two terms under Franklin Roosevelt.

Carter was a rough-and-tumble Texas politician who rose to Speaker of the House before running for the Democratic nomination for President in 1932. He cut a deal to become FDR’s running mate at the convention when it became clear that Roosevelt was the front runner, but still needed votes to gain the nomination.

Carter has been described as charming and folksy. He was also called “a labor-baiting, poker-playing, whiskey-drinking, evil old man” – and that by a fellow Democrat.

Carter served two terms as FDR’s Vice President, and is most famous not for anything he did as VP, but for a phrase he used to describe his job: “not worth a bucket of warm piss.” (FDR wasn’t a man to share the limelight.)

Carter fell out with FDR for various reasons, especially over FDR’s ill-fated plan to pack the Supreme Court with additional judges. Carter declared his own candidacy for president in 1940, and the rest is history, as in “not much history for Garner.”

Carter retired after his second term with FDR, but he was consulted by politicians such as Harry Truman and John F. Kennedy. Carter was our longest-living VP, nearly making it to age 99!

Know Your VPs: John C. Breckinridge

Tuesday, February 21st, 2017

This month, we’re profiling a few of the many men who have sat around waiting for the President to die or quit so that he could have his own day in the sun.

Today we’re writing about John C. Breckinridge (1821-1875), the 14th, and, at 36, the youngest Vice President in American history. He had the honor of being VP to one of the worst presidents: James Buchanan.

After Buchanan’s term, Breckinridge unsuccessfully ran for president in 1860 as a Southern Democrat. He finished a distant third behind Stephen Douglas and Abraham Lincoln, an old friend who was married to Breckinridge’s cousin Mary Todd.

Breckinridge returned to the Senate, but joined the Confederate army once the Civil War started. Thus Breckinridge had the unique distinction of being the only U.S. Senator to be convicted of treason.

He also had the distinction of serving in administrations of both the USA and CSA. Breckinridge rose through the ranks of the Confederate government to become Jefferson Davis’ Secretary of War, and presided over the surrender of the Confederacy.

After years in exile, Breckinridge returned to his native Kentucky, where he resisted calls from many, many people – including Ulysses S. Grant – to return to public life. From his retirement, he did use his lingering political influence to publicly denounce the KKK and support passage of a Kentucky statute allowing black people to testify against white people in court. That kind of makes up for the treason.

Know Your VPs: William King

Thursday, February 16th, 2017

This month, we’re profiling a few of the many men who have sat around waiting for the President to die or quit so that he could have his own day in the sun.

William Rufus King (1786-1853), our 13th Vice President (under President Franklin Pierce), was the highest-ranking Alabamian in US politics. He also had one of the shortest terms of any VP, dying of tuberculosis just 25 days after inauguration. King was so ill he had to be sworn in on foreign soil (he was in Cuba for a health cure).

Needless to say, he was not able to carry out many of his VP duties before he died. That might not have been a bad thing.

King served in the Senate for more than 30 years and was regarded as a steady, if second-rate, Senator. His was no blazing intellect. He had no gift for oratory when our nation passionately debated slavery, secession, and other matters of life-and-death import. King was known as a “moderate Unionist” (as if that’s somehow commensurate with owning slaves).

In the 1830s, King was arrested with fellow Senator Henry Clay for nearly dueling, but his career was uninspiring. King once vowed to act “mildly, but firmly, and I trust impartially. . . . Should I err, I look to my brother Senators, in a spirit of kindness, to correct my errors.” He didn’t leave much of a legacy.

We remember William Rufus King – when we remember him at all – because he was most likely our first gay Vice President. Throughout his life, whispers trailed him – most pointedly around his friendship with James Buchanan. The two had a close relationship, attended social functions, and lived together for 10 years. The wags of their time dubbed them the “Siamese Twins.” Andrew Jackson (classy man that he was), referred to them as “Miss Nancy” and “Aunt Fancy.” King and Buchanan planned to run together for president and vice president, but it was never to be.

A few years after King’s death, Buchanan became the 15th president of the United States. (And, according to pretty much everybody, he was one of our worst. But that’s neither here nor there.)

Although he may not have been our greatest VPOTUS, William King showed himself to be loyal to his partner: after King died, Buchanan called him “among the best, the purest and most consistent public men I have known.”

Know Your VPs: Richard Mentor Johnson

Tuesday, February 14th, 2017

This month, we’re profiling a few of the many men who have sat around waiting for the President to die or quit so that he could have his own day in the sun.

Today’s post is on Richard Mentor Johnson (1780-1850), the 9th Vice President of the U. S., serving under Martin Van Buren.

Johnson was our first VP with the last name Johnson! So far, there have been two more.

Johnson was a member of the House of Representatives, and later the Senate. Some people said that Johnson personally killed the Shawnee Indian war chief Tecumseh at the Battle of the Thames. He didn’t deny it, and allowed rumor to burnish his political reputation.

Johnson was nominated for VP on the Democratic ticket with Van Buren in 1836, and ran under what must be the lamest political slogan in U.S. history: “Rumpsey Dumpsey, Rumpsey Dumpsey, Colonel Johnson killed Tecumseh.”

The electorate is nothing if not silly, and the nursery rhyme worked: Johnson and Van Buren were elected, though Johnson needed the Senate to seal the deal because he was one electoral vote short.

Why didn’t Johnson win outright? He lived in a time when the details of your personal life could get in the way of high office and came under scrutiny for his relationship with a black woman. Unlike your average black-mistress-having white political leader (looking at you here, 1st Vice President of the U. S. Jefferson), Johnson treated Chinn as his wife and acknowledged their two daughters as his own.

Oh, and Johnson’s common law wife, Julia Chinn, was not only black, she was a slave.

She was actually his slave. Johnson had inherited her. Though he could have freed Chinn, things were complicated. (Fun fact: she would have had to leave the state.) Though he could have married her, things were complicated. (Fun fact: whites could not marry blacks in Kentucky until the Supreme Court decided Loving v. Virginia in 1967.)

After Chinn died in 1833, Johnson began a relationship with another family slave. When she left him for another man, he sold her, and then started sleeping with her sister.

And you thought today’s politicians were creepy…

Johnson just couldn’t shake public condemnation – about openly living with black women, not about being a total bounder and a cur for owning people and then sleeping with them – and he was dumped from the ticket in 1840.

He spent the rest of his life running a tavern, running a farm, and running for office. He died just two weeks into his last term in the Kentucky House of Representatives.

At his death, his mixed-race children were ruled illegitimate, and his brothers split his estate.


Know Your VPs: Elbridge Gerry

Wednesday, February 8th, 2017

This world is filled with many wonders, including creatures that wait and bide their time, waiting for the first sign of weakness or death. Then they swoop into action.

We’re not speaking of vultures here.

We’re speaking of vice presidents.

This month, we’re profiling a few of the many men who have waited for the President to fall in order to have their day in the sun. Most didn’t get a chance to do much. But they all have stories.

Today’s guest VP and bona-fide Founding father is Elbridge Gerry (1744-1814), the 5th Vice President of the United States.

Gerry signed the Declaration of Independence, but famously refused to sign the Constitution at the Constitutional Convention because it didn’t yet include a bill of rights. He was caught up in the XYZ scandal during the Adams administration, served as a Congressman, and was elected 9th Governor of Massachusetts before becoming James Madison’s Vice President. He died a year and a half into his term.

Gerry’s greatest legacy is the term that bears his name: the “gerrymander.” As governor of Massachusetts, Gerry signed legislation to redistrict his state so the ruling party could consolidate control. The borders of one district in Essex County were thought to resemble the shape of a salamander – hence the term “gerry-mander.”

It’s unfortunate that Gerry’s reputation is tarnished with a dubious political practice. After all, he signed the legislation only reluctantly and it led to his defeat in the next election.

Gerry was a vocal advocate of individual freedom, and described as one of “the two most impartial men in America” by John Adams (who implied he, himself, was the other. But he was probably a little partial.)

Gerry also had 10 children, of which 7 survived into adulthood. So although he didn’t leave a legacy as a VP, he was at least productive.