Monday, July 2, 2007

Story of the Day-James Garfield

In 1881, President James Garfield was shot by Charles J. Guiteau at the Washington railroad station; Garfield died the following September. (Guiteau was hanged in June 1882.)
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James Abram Garfield
20th President of the United States
(March 4, 1881 to September 19, 1881)
Nickname: None
Born: November 19, 1831, in Orange, Ohio
Died: September 19, 1881, in Elberon, New Jersey
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Born in a log cabin to poor, uneducated parents, James Garfield went on to be a scholar, a Civil War hero, a U.S. congressman for eighteen years and, eventually, president of the United States. Unfortunately, Garfield's rags-to-riches story came to an abrupt end when a disgruntled Republican supporter, Charles Guiteau, shot Garfield twice on 2 July 1881. Garfield lingered on through the summer and died in Elberon, New Jersey on 19 September 1881. His vice president, Chester A. Arthur, was sworn in as president on 20 September 1881.
James Abram Garfield (November 19, 1831–September 19, 1881) was the 20th President of the United States and the second U.S. President to be assassinated — Abraham Lincoln was the first. Garfield had the second shortest presidency in U.S. history, after William Henry Harrison's. Holding office from March 5 to September 19, 1881, President Garfield served for a total of six months and fifteen days.
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American President: President James Abram Garfield

James Abram Garfield Speeches

James Abram Garfield
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James Abram Garfield was born on November 19, 1831, in Orange, Ohio. Garfield's father died in 1833, and James spent the majority of his youth working on a farm to care for his widowed mother. At the age of seventeen years, Garfield took a position on the Ohio and Erie Canal, steering the boats through the canal.

During his youth, Garfield received minimal schooling in Ohio's common schools. In 1849, he enrolled in the Geauga Seminary in Chester, Ohio. After briefly serving as a teacher, Garfield attended the Western Reserve Eclectic Institute (modern-day Hiram College) in Hiram, Ohio. He transferred to Williams College, in Williamstown, Massachusetts, graduating in 1858. He returned to Hiram College that same year as a professor of ancient languages and literature. He also served as Hiram's president until the outbreak of the American Civil War. In 1859, Garfield embarked upon a political career, winning election to the Ohio Senate as a member of the Republican Party.

During the Civil War, Garfield resigned his position at Hiram College at joined the Union Army. He began as lieutenant-colonel of the Forty-Second Ohio Volunteer Infantry Regiment. He participated in the Battles of Shiloh and Chickamauga. He resigned from the army on December 5, 1863, having attained the rank of major general.

Garfield resigned his commission because Ohio voters had elected him to the United States House of Representatives. He served nine consecutive terms in the House of Representatives before he was elected President of the United States in 1880. In Congress, Garfield was a supporter of the Radical Republicans. He opposed President Andrew Johnson's lenient policy toward the conquered Southern states and also demanded the enfranchisement of African-American men. He was appointed by the Ohio legislature to the United States Senate in January 1880, but he declined the office, because he was elected president a few months before he was to claim his seat in the Senate.

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Charles Julius Guiteau (September 8, 1841 – June 30, 1882) was an American lawyer who assassinated President James A. Garfield on July 2, 1881. He was sentenced to death by hanging in 1882.
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Despite the heat of the morning, James Garfield was in good spirits. President since the March, after narrowly defeating fellow Civil War General Winfield Hancock, Garfield had anticipated a tough start, and there had been deep opposition and debate to every appointment and program his administration had suggested. The country was still healing the divisions caused by the War Between the States, and even Garfield's Republican party was trying to settle its own conflicts, as the Republicans were divided into two distinct camps: the Stalwarts, who had wanted to nominate former President Ulysses S. Grant for another term, and the Half-Breeds, who had gained just enough ground to get Garfield onto the ballot and into the White House.

But on this July morning, Garfield was taking a break from the conflicts of the presidency and was off for a brief vacation. He was in a good mood, reportedly doing handstands for his sons before dressing and seeing to the final details of the journey.

Soon after 9:00 a.m., Garfield and a few of his political entourage, including Secretary of State James Blaine, arrived at the Baltimore & Potomac Railroad station. They walked quickly through the throng of other holiday-makers and headed toward the lines of departing trains.

An observer in the station that morning would not have noticed anything unusual: the normal activity around the ticket window, a mother disciplining her child, people sitting on benches with their faces hidden by newspapers.

From out of the crowd, a small man approached Garfield from behind and quickly fired two shots at the president -- one shattering bones and puncturing vessels and arteries before coming to rest somewhere deep inside the internal organs.

Feeling more confusion than pain, Garfield crumpled to the floor.

The shooter stepped quickly back into the crowd.

Suddenly there was a panic -- people shouting and running in every direction: to get help, to flee, to get a closer look at what had happened.

The shabbily dressed gunman began to leave the station through one of the many exits, but an observant guard grabbed him and was mildly surprised when the little man put up no resistance.

In the flurry of activity that followed, Garfield was carried out of the station and his assailant hurried off to a local jail.

So began the events that would see Charles Guiteau into the history books as the assassin of President Garfield, the second president in U.S. history to be assassinated -- although Guiteau's bullet was not the actual cause of Garfield's death.

To say that Garfield was born into a hard life would be an understatement. According to Justus Doenecke's book The Presidencies of James A. Garfield & Chester A. Arthur, Garfield was born in 1831 "in a rude hut near Orange, Ohio." His mother was widowed soon after Garfield was born, and the young boy spent his early years working long days on the family farm. As he came of age, he would add to the family's meager fortunes with any other work he could find, including a brief time driving a barge on the rivers of the area. Indeed, his rags-to-riches life inspired Horatio Alger Jr., a classic novelist of such tales, to write the biography From Canal Boy to President in 1881.

Doenecke points to a religious awakening at 18 as a major turning point in Garfield's life, leading to his attendance at college, some time spent considering the ministry as his vocation, and his entry into politics in 1859 as the youngest member of the Ohio Legislature.

He continued to rise steadily up the Republican party ladder before becoming its presidential candidate in 1880.

Born into better financial circumstances (but in many ways an equally bleak childhood), Charles Julius Guiteau came into the world in September 1841 in Freeport, Illinois. Georgetown University's Lauinger Library, which holds a special collection of Guiteau-related documents, states that Charles was the fourth child born to businessman Luther Guiteau and his wife Anne. Two more children followed Charles, and Anne died when Charles was barely 7 years old. Although Luther would later remarry, the Lauinger Library maintains that his sister Frances "practically raised" Charles and would become his substitute mother and primary source of "moral and financial support" for most of his life.

He would choose a disturbing way to repay her for her kindness.

The Freeport locals generally thought the whole Guiteau family was odd, and there was whispered gossip about insanity in the Guiteau gene pool. The Lauinger Library collection includes a letter from one acquaintance of the family to another saying:

I remember of hearing you tell of the funny and strange actions of the Guiteaus. ...I believe that both Charles and his father were (crazy when it came to) religion...write to me stating the peculiar transactions of...old man Guiteau.

Luther was a strange and stern father, and young Guiteau received many whippings and streams of verbal abuse throughout his childhood. As sometimes happens with children raised in this kind of oppressive environment, Guiteau coped with his father's abuse -- and his own resulting feelings of worthlessness -- by developing an inflated sense of self-importance that would later irritate everyone he came into contact with. When people refused to see him as a luminary, Charles would be confused, but he would grow to deny anything that contradicted his own grandiose vision of himself and would refuse to see the reality of his few and pitiful accomplishments.

As noted in the neighbor's correspondence, Luther's religious beliefs were seen as odd by the society of that time. Luther was an ardent follower of John H. Noyes and Noyes's teachings that promoted communal living, multiple sex partners, and other beliefs that were seen as questionable (if not downright evil) by Victorian society.

Young Guiteau also came to believe in Noyes's doctrines and, after reaching adulthood, traveled in 1860 to live in the Oneida Community, a New York commune that was the center of Noyes's cult.

With his inflated ego and abrasive personality firmly in place, Guiteau rubbed most members of Oneida the wrong way. And when it came to enjoying Oneidas' loose sexual morality, Guiteau repelled more women than he attracted. Indeed, in the several years he was living at Oneida, Guiteau would later testify that he had "remained strictly virtuous...aside...from three distinct women in a very short time."

Communal living did not agree with Guiteau. He no doubt wanted to be seen as better than the rest of the residents. The History House -- whose Web site includes many original documents and trial transcripts quoted throughout this article -- cites a letter from an Oneida elder to Luther complaining that Guiteau had:

..a decided repugnance to labor with his hands, and indeed to business of all kinds. He wrote Noyes a long communication, in which he was very insolent, charging him with tyranny and oppression.

The letter concluded with the opinion that Guiteau had "an unsound insane mind."

It would not be the last time that someone in authority reached that conclusion.

Guiteau left Oneida in 1865 and, regardless of supposedly believing him to be an oppressive tyrant, attempted to set up a newspaper in New Jersey that would, according to the Lauinger Library, spread Noyes's teachings.

The newspaper never got off the ground, and, only 14 weeks after leaving, Guiteau rejoined Oneida. He immediately resumed his feelings of superiority over the other commune members, and tensions quickly escalated to a point where Guiteau left Oneida for good on November 1, 1866.

Out on his own, Guiteau began a long history of shady business practices, sneaking out of his lodgings in the dead of night without paying his bills, short stays in jail, and moving around to keep a step ahead of his growing number of creditors.

After Oneida, Guiteau attempted to sue Noyes and the community for what he felt was owed him for all the work he had done during his residency. Pointing out that work done in a communal living environment is done, by definition, for no payment, Noyes refused to make any monetary settlement. Guiteau then considered blackmailing Noyes by going public with lurid stories of rampant sex in Oneida. When, according to the Lauinger Library, Oneida countered by threatening to have him prosecuted for attempted extortion, Guiteau gave up and moved to Chicago.

In 1869, Guiteau married Annie Bunn, who worked at the Chicago YMCA he attended. By the time of their wedding, Guiteau had struggled through the Illinois Bar exam and had established a small legal practice, but his pattern of questionable ethics and business failures continued.

Once he realized that Chicago held no further hope for his big dreams, and no doubt with many creditors on the hunt, he and Annie left Chicago for New York City.

Rick Geary's The Fatal Bullet states that Annie successfully sued for divorce in 1874 on the grounds of adultery once it became known that Guiteau had contracted syphilis from a prostitute. That Annie had stayed for five years is remarkable; as the Lauinger Library's Web site says, Guiteau "...was abusive to his wife, reportedly locking her in a closet for whole nights."

New York City held no better fortunes for Guiteau than Chicago had. Now on his own, lack of money continued to plague Guiteau, although his massive ego kept him convinced that his prosperity would bloom as soon as one of his brilliant ideas resulted in the money and prestige he deserved.

Still dodging creditors and landlords, he moved about frequently, and some of those creditors approached his brother John for the settlement of Guiteau's many debts. When John wrote to Guiteau about the urgency to pay back the debts, Guiteau was outraged and wrote John a reply:

Find seven dollars enclosed. Stick it up your bung hole and wipe your nose on it, and that will remind you of the estimation in which you are held by Charles J. Guiteau. Sign and return the enclosed receipt and I will send you (the money), but not before. And that, I hope, will end our acquaintance.

Guiteau didn't turn his back on his entire family, however. After a brief stay in jail (which Geary states was due to trying once again to vacate his residence without paying), he went to live with his sister Frances and her family.

After a few months, however, according to Lauinger Library's Web site, Guiteau attempted to attack Frances with an ax he was using to chop wood. There was no apparent reason for the spontaneous attack, and Frances ran to a local doctor who recommended that she have her brother institutionalized. Guiteau fled the area before Frances could take any action.

Without a home or income, his journalistic and legal careers in the dust, Guiteau began a string of speaking appearances to take advantage of the many religious revival "meetings" that crisscrossed the country in the late 19th century.

If he hoped to become more successful as a traveling preacher than in his earlier occupations, however, he was to be disappointed. One newspaper article that appeared after one of his nearly-incoherent religious lectures said:

Is There a Hell? Fifty deceived people (believe) that there ought to be. Charles J. Guiteau (if such really is his name), has fraud and imbecility plainly stamped upon his (face). (After) the impudent scoundrel talked only 15 minutes, he suddenly (thanked) the audience for their attention and (bid) them goodnight. Before the astounded 50 had recovered from their amazement...(he had taken their money and) fled from the building and escaped.

As 1880 approached, Guiteau took stock of his life. Nearing 40, none of his past efforts had led him to the notoriety and fame he felt he was owed.

He could not understand it.

He was a great man, an exceptional man, but nobody was paying him homage.

He wondered if he had just chosen the wrong occupations.

Perhaps, Guiteau thought, he was destined to make his mark in politics.

1880 was an election year. As a lifelong Republican, Guiteau sided with the Stalwarts in the bitter infighting within the party. He wrote letters and speeches in support of the Stalwarts' plan to put Ulysses S. Grant back into the White House. Once the Half-Breeds had narrowly defeated the Stalwarts and put Garfield onto the ticket, Guiteau quickly switched sides and began producing pro-Garfield related documents. The History House claims that on some rallying speeches, Guiteau merely substituted "Garfield" for "Grant," without changing any of the biographical information basically giving Garfield credit for Grant's childhood, decisive battles, and government accomplishments.

After Garfield won the election, the Lauinger Library's Web site notes that Guiteau believed that a little-heard speech he had given in August of 1880 was the primary cause for the Republican victory. He reached this conclusion without any external input whatsoever.

Certain now that he was approaching the great heights he was destined for, and equally certain that the Republican Party (and Garfield in particular) were forever in his debt, Guiteau moved to Washington, D.C., to receive what he felt sure would be an endless stream of honors.

Completely ignored by the new administration, Guiteau nevertheless decided to allow himself to be appointed to an international consulate, and he began writing letters to that effect after his arrival in Washington.

To President Garfield he wrote:

Next Spring I expect to marry the daughter of a deceased New York Republican millionaire and I think we can represent the United States government at Vienna with dignity and grace.

Not receiving any response, Guiteau sent Garfield another letter, more overconfident than the previous:

I called to see you this morning, but you were engaged. (Previously) I sent you a note touching on the Austrian mission. (The current Austrian Consul), I understand, wishes to remain at Vienna till fall. He is a good fellow (and) I do not wish to disturb him in any event.

What do you think of me for Consul-General at Paris? I think I prefer Paris to Vienna...and I presume my appointment will be promptly confirmed.

Still receiving no response from Garfield, Guiteau began writing a stream of letters to various government officials, targeting Secretary of State Blaine in particular: January last I wrote Garfield touching the Austrian Mission, and I think he has filed my application and is favorably inclined. Since then I have concluded to apply for the Consul-General at Paris instead.

I spoke (with Garfield) about it, and he said your endorsement would help, (so I) will talk with you about it as soon as I can get a chance. There is nothing against me. I claim to be a gentleman and a Christian.

The History House states that Guiteau had seen the heiress mentioned in the first letter only once, from a distance -- and it is doubtful that Garfield had read any of Guiteau's letters, let alone advised him to get Blaine's endorsement.

Puzzled by the silence from the administration that owed him so much, but certain that he would be rewarded for his outstanding services, Guiteau increased his letter-writing campaign. Secretary of State Blaine received so many letters and messages from Guiteau that when one day a strange man approached him and identified himself as the persistent author of the letters, Blaine reportedly shouted at Guiteau: "Never speak to me again on the Paris Consulship as long as you live!"

Guiteau was stunned. How could they deny him a position of honor, after his speech and other works had clinched the election?

On hearing the news that the consulate jobs had gone to others, Guiteau felt infuriated and betrayed.

He would not allow himself to be treated so.

He began to concoct a plan, although he would later claim he was directed in his future actions by God. He may even have eventually come to believe that.

To put his plan into effect, he bought a pistol (Geary states that Guiteau made sure to get a gun with an attractive handle, as he was sure it would soon be featured in a place of honor in a fine museum) and made several aborted attempts at the assassination. He would later state that he decided not to act on those earlier occasions because of his desire not to accidentally shoot someone else, his displeasure with the weather, or the fact that Garfield's wife was with him and Guiteau didn't want to cause her needless anguish.

On the morning of July 2, 1881, he arose early, ate breakfast, and went out to assassinate the president.

When Garfield was brought back to the White House after the shooting, various doctors swarmed around and offered numerous and conflicting advice on methods to save his life. Medical practice at the time did not include the hygienic practices of today, and so doctors put their unwashed and ungloved fingers (as well as various unsterilized instruments) into the wound in the president's back in an attempt to find and dig out the bullet. These doctors consequently caused numerous infections and complications that would ultimately be the reason for Garfield's death in mid-September.

As the president lingered in agony for weeks, Guiteau's imprisonment did nothing to dispel his delusion that he had done something noble and would be applauded by everyone. As reproduced on the Lauinger Library's Web site, in the days before the shooting he had drafted a letter that he presumed would be widely published after the deed and would result in his idolization:

To the American People: I conceived the idea of removing the President four weeks ago. Not a soul knew of my purpose. I conceived the idea myself and kept it to myself. I read the newspapers carefully for and against the Administration, and gradually the conviction settled on me that the President's removal was a political necessity, because he proved a traitor to the men that made him, and thereby imperiled the life of the Republic. This is not murder. It is a political necessity.

He also wrote to famed General William T. Sherman in a tone one would use to write to a trusted confidante:


According to Lauinger Library's Web site, Sherman passed along the letter saying "I don't know the writer. Never heard of or saw him to my knowledge."

When Garfield died on September 19, Guiteau was charged with murder and his trial began November 14, 1881. It could charitably be called a circus and would last for more than six months.

Officially, Guiteau's defense would be headed up by his brother-in-law (Frances's husband), George Scoville -- but Guiteau was quite vocal in his dissatisfaction with Scoville and argued loudly with many aspects of Scoville's defense strategy, especially when any attempt to use an insanity defense was put into play. He also chose to speak directly to the judge, witnesses, and spectators whenever he pleased -- often loudly contradicting testimony or objecting to lines of questioning.

In spite of waves of hate mail flowing into the jail, Guiteau believed his actions had been commanded by God and he would be freed and given the proper praise for his heroic action, once addressing the courtroom spectators:

I (have) had plenty of visitors, high-toned, middle-toned and low-toned people...everybody was glad to see me...they all expressed the opinion without one dissenting voice that I be acquitted.

He would call on his mythical supporters to add to the rapidly shrinking funds that were paying for his defense, even having the audacity to place himself on equal footing with the woman he'd recently made a widow:

(I) desire to invite my friends throughout the nation to send me money. (People have given) Mrs. Garfield $200,000...a splendid thing, a noble thing. Now I want them to give me some money.

Throughout the trial, Guiteau insisted (and technically was correct) that Garfield had died from complications resulting from mistreatment at the hands of the doctors. He was equally adamant that he could not be held accountable, anyway, since he had been acting for God.

He continually berated Scoville whenever the lawyer didn't go along with his wishes. The History House quotes just a few of Guiteau's tantrums:

Get off the case, you consummate ass!

I would rather have some ten-year-old boy try this case than you!

You have compromised my case in every move you make!

After months of testimony and countless outbursts from the defendant, the jury adjourned and promptly found him guilty.

The Lauinger Library's Web site states that despite the reports from several noted doctors who were convinced Guiteau was insane -- and impassioned pleas from his family -- he was executed on June 30, 1882.

He enlightened the hangman and crowds around the scaffold with a muddled and peculiar poem he had written for the occasion -- a final gift for the people who should have revered him.

But the adulation he expected never came, and his name is largely forgotten today.

Shortly after his death he did become the subject of a folk ballad (one of several known versions is below), but it is infrequently performed and rarely recorded, leaving the man who believed himself destined for Great Things to become a footnote in popular history, at best.

Come all you tender Christians, wherever you may be,

And likewise pay attention to these few lines from me.

For the murder of James A. Garfield I am condemned to die,

On the thirtieth day of June, upon the scaffold high.

(Repeating Chorus):

My name is Charles Guiteau -- my name I'll never deny.

I leave my aged parents to sorrow and to die.

But little did I think, while in my youthful bloom,

I'd be going to the scaffold to meet my fatal doom.

'Twas down at the station I tried to make my escape,

But Providence being against me, it proved to be too late.

They took me off to prison while in my youthful bloom,

To be taken to the scaffold to meet my fatal doom.

I tried to play insane but found it wouldn't do,

All people were against me, for escape there was no clue.

Judge Cox, he passed my sentence, his clerk he wrote it down:

I'd be carried to the scaffold to meet my fatal doom.

My sister came to prison, to bid a last farewell.

She threw her arms around me and wept most bitterly.

She said, "My darling brother, this day you must die,

For the murder of James A. Garfield, upon the scaffold high.
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James A. Garfield
20th President of the United States
















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Impact and Legacy

Presidents of the United States (1789-2007)

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