Today's words to remember come from James A. Garfield, the 20th U.S. president.
James A. Garfield didn't seek -- and didn't particularly want -- the 1880 Republican Party presidential nomination: He'd gone to the GOP convention in Chicago to support fellow Ohioan John Sherman, the brother of Union Gen. William Tecumseh Sherman. It wasn't to be. A rival wing of the party was pushing the candidacy of James G. Blaine. A third faction led by New York political boss Roscoe Conkling thought they'd take advantage of the friction by nominating incumbent President Ulysses Grant for a third term. Something had to give.
It happened during Garfield's speech on behalf of Sherman. Conkling had gone first, delivering a passionate testimonial for the incumbent that drew sustained applause and left Grant supporters in a near-frenzy. But then Garfield spoke, as he always did, with reasoned and aspirational arguments that left the delegates spellbound.
As he neared the conclusion, Sherman's surrogate asked the crowd, "And now, gentlemen of the convention, what do we want?" From the audience came an unanticipated but sincere shout: "We want Garfield!"
A seed was planted in the minds of the delegates. It took three dozen ballots, but ultimately the nomination went to Garfield, not Sherman, Blaine, or Grant. So just who had the Republican Party chosen as its standard-bearer? The short answer was a man of great intellect and character who had succeeded at everything he ever tried.
Born in rural Ohio on Nov. 19, 1831, James A. Garfield's childhood was every bit as impoverished as Abraham Lincoln's. As a boy, Garfield took a job as a janitor in a local school as a way of putting himself in proximity of learning. In a twist that sounds like something out of "Good Will Hunting," young Garfield was so intelligent and well-read that he was pressed into service as a teacher. He later became the school's headmaster. He had a similar trajectory in the Union Army. An abolitionist who enlisted at the start of the Civil War, Garfield rose through the ranks rapidly, getting one battlefield promotion after another until he was a major general.
As much as President Lincoln needed good generalship, he needed loyal Republicans in Congress even more, and Garfield was persuaded to resign his commission and run for Congress in 1862. He was a Republican star on Capitol Hill for the next 18 years before becoming the surprise choice at a runaway GOP convention in 1880.
I have little doubt he'd have been a great president, but he was cut down by an assassin's bullet several months after his inauguration. He lingered for a long summer before passing away in September 1881, and it is a little-known historical fact that the second martyred U.S. president -- unlike the first -- was mourned in the South was well as in the North.
The man who replaced him in the White House was the most unlikely president in U.S. history, Chester A. Arthur. He'd held exactly one job in government, a lucrative patronage post given to him by Conkling as collector at the New York Customs House, and he'd been forced out of the position because of allegations of corruption. "The nomination of Arthur is a ridiculous burlesque," John Sherman complained. "He never held an office except the one he was removed from."
Conkling was bitter, too, which was surprising considering that Arthur was foisted on Garfield as a running mate to placate the New York delegation and Grant's supporters: Arthur was widely considered, even by Arthur himself, to be Conkling's toady. A bachelor, he even lived for a time at Conkling's house at 14th and F streets in Washington. But the scheming New York boss wasn't satisfied and began trying to manipulate and bully Garfield in other ways.
In so doing, Conkling misunderstood his adversary -- or, rather, the man he had chosen to make his adversary. James Garfield's first instinct in life was always to compromise, not fight. As Candice Millard wrote in her superb Garfield biography, the man was incapable of carrying a grudge.
"Years before, Garfield had resolved to stop speaking to a journalist who had tried to vilify him in the press," Millard wrote. "The next time he saw the man, however, he could not resist greeting him with a cheerful wave. ‘You old rascal,' he said with a smile. ‘How are you?'"
Garfield understood that scheming politicians like Blaine and Conkling were mystified by such magnanimous behavior, but he didn't care. "I am a poor hater," he noted simply.
But if they interpreted Garfield's natural spirit of generosity with weakness, they were making a mistake. In words I try to live by myself, James A. Garfield wrote this in his diary:
"Of course I deprecate war, but if it is brought to my door, the bringer will find me at home."
And that is our quote of the week.
Carl M. Cannon is the Washington bureau chief for RealClearPolitics. Reach him on Twitter @CarlCannon
