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As a 2016 election post mortem, I read Lynn Hudson Parson’s The Birth of Modern Politics to get a handle on the origins of the “outsider” in
American presidential politics. In the book’s central subject—the presidential
election of 1828—the outsider, Andrew Jackson (i.e., Trump’s spiritual forebear),
unseated the establishment incumbent John Quincy Adams.
Like The Donald, General Jackson appealed to testosterone-inspired
angels of the electorate’s nature. (The General’s border “wall” was the
Mississippi. His Indian Removal Act of 1830 sent the so-called Five Civilized
Tribes—the Chickasaw, Choctaw, Creek, Seminole, and Cherokee—packing west
across the great river. Before his election, Jackson had bedeviled many of them
as an Indian fighter. But he was an equal opportunity exterminator: At the Battle of New Orleans, his troops took 25
minutes to mow down over 2000 British (700 killed; 1400 wounded) in a
make-shift shooting gallery.
The Battle of New Orleans elevated Jackson to national hero
status. No surprise then to see the General and his cronies heading down the
Mississippi in a steamboat toward the Big Easy in January of election year
1828. At their destination, anniversary gatherings celebrated the candidate and
the great battle.
But before reaching New Orleans, the emotionally volatile
Jackson (103 duels to his credit) had to clear the river of a pesky boat that impeded
his own ship’s progress. Having sniffed the
juices of road rage, I feel blessed to share the passage below from The
Birth of Modern Politics. It works
for me as a nineteenth century harbinger of the RR affliction. Perhaps it will for you.
The voyage flirted with
disaster when Jackson, annoyed at the frequent crisscrossing of another boat in
front of the Pocahontas, grabbed a rifle and threatened to shoot the pilot of
the offending vessel. According to Hamilton, it took Rachel’s [Jackson’s better
half] intervention to calm the general down.
With that advisory, Wig & Pen wishes you a happy new
year and four years of Happy Motoring!
