The Greatest Presidents

On this President’s Day, once back from the mall, if we're not too tired or too busy with the barbecue, we might actually think briefly about, well, presidents.  Presidents past and those we have known well enough to vote for -- or against.  We might even think about which ones in the country's history were the best, and which ones were not.
For me there have been only three truly great presidents, one in each of the centuries past: 18th, 19th and 20th.  (The 21st century is a little young yet to pick a winner -- we're still working on the bridge to it.)

What made them stand out? First, each was sorely challenged by events that put the nation in peril and each fully met his challenges. Second, each was venerated by his countrymen because he led at the crucial moments in a way that unified the nation. Third, all were beacons abroad, bearers of the light and hope radiating from our still young republic. Fourth, they left office – and this life – to the keenly felt grief and regret of all the people.

George Washington, Abraham Lincoln and Franklin Roosevelt are the great ones, in that order. All others, and there were some good ones,  either failed to master as completely the events that tested them or, unfortunately for their reputations, lived in less interesting times.

We can put Lincoln ahead of Washington only by forgetting all that the First George did for us. The father of our country is still first in war and first in peace but, alas, no longer first in the hearts of his countrymen. Stiff, aloof, unsmiling, with bad teeth and a plain way of speaking, Washington has not worn as well as the simple geniality and melancholy eloquence of the story telling Rail Splitter.

But look at all that Washington did. Before there was a nation he was the paramount citizen-soldier of the colonies. He was the overwhelming choice for commanding general of the amazing victorious revolution; the universal choice to preside at the Constitutional Convention, that “Miracle in Philadelphia;” the unanimous first choice for President of the United States, an office that would have been defined less powerfully in the Constitution without the expectation that he would hold it first and establish the precedents for all who would follow.

Equally important were two things Washington did not do. He did not let his continental army officers, disgruntled over tardy pay, talk him into leading a coup. Instead he talked them out of it. And he did not stay on, as he could have, as president for life. Instead he chose to retire after two terms, setting a precedent now part of the Constitution, and in so doing orchestrated that first peaceful transfer of power, a tradition that is our glory – and the envy of nations – to this day.

Of course Washington had help – from that impressive assemblage of talent we revere as the Founding Fathers. But by words and deeds virtually all of them publicly accorded him first place in their pantheon. We can do no less.

Washington’s only signal failure of leadership came immediately after his death. His carefully drawn will, anticipating the objections of his widow and her powerful Custis clan, successfully freed all his slaves. He had hoped Virginia and the nation would follow his lead, but they did not.

That wrong was left for Honest Abe to right. His great accomplishment was of course to end slavery while preserving the union and its constitution. Historians also find much merit in his conduct of the civil war as President and Commander-In-Chief. And, like Washington, he helped create and lead a great political party.

Academics also admire the way Lincoln put profound, enduring thoughts into simple words to the service of statecraft. From the mingled blood of Gettysburg,  he distilled a "new birth of freedom" to renew and redefine the nation. Before his assassination he pledged “to bind up the nation’s wounds.” The rebels, he said, were “our countrymen” again. At his urging Grant accepted Lee’s surrender on generous terms.

Lincoln also wrote in spare legal terms the presidency’s greatest executive order, “The Emancipation Proclamation,” now set in constitutional stone as the thirteenth amendment: “Neither slavery nor involuntary servitude. . .”

Had he lived to turn his prescription of “malice toward none, with charity for all” into policy and practice, Lincoln could have so "[bound] up the nation wounds" as to temper and perhaps foreshorten the time of segregation and prejudice that lingers on still. With that accomplishment he would have drawn even with Washington, but it was not to be.

Franklin Roosevelt was wealthy, young, handsome, social, athletic. But heady early success was stopped by the crippling shock of polio. He reached for and took strength from his adversity in time to lead the nation – bewildered and despairing after its roller coaster ride of the Roaring Twenties and the Great Crash -- through the Depression Thirties, the New Deal, Pearl Harbor  and to the edge of victory in World War II.

At his death in 1945, after four unprecedented election victories and over 12 years in office, he was the only president youngsters (including this one) had ever known. After him the federal government was paramount in the nation and the nation predominant in the world. Sixty five plus years on these relationships endure, though long under fire, not least these very days.

One disquieting question: does greatness require victory in war? Thus far it would appear so, and today’s turbulent times augur for no exception. But the squabbles of humankind, so much on our minds, are overdue to shrink before the needs of the small blue marble to which we cling.

Perhaps on one future Presidents' Day in this century we will have followed a leader to peace and to harmony with the only planet we have, and we will use these new metrics to measure his or her greatness with that of centuries past. Now that would be great. 

Now, what'ill it be: chicken, ribs or dogs?

Remembering When I Couldn't Win For Losing

Way back when, before we had a new young president and no incumbent was running for the office and politics was young again, my personal preferences vs Democratic primary results were zip to 3. It was enough to send me sulking to my tent and it went like this.

"I like Bill Richardson," I told my wife. "He was a successful Federal executive, had some notable diplomatic successes, speaks fluent Spanish and is a state governor. Sounds like a winning story."
After Richardson dropped out of sight, I necessarily adopted a deeply strategic approach.

"The party has great depth this year," I remember explaining over coffee. This black guy, Obama, is young, articulate and promising. But he has a funny name and needs time to season. Hillary has too much baggage for the presidency and Bill is temperamentally unsuited for First Husband. Her job is to succeed Ted Kennedy as Best Senator and then become the first woman majority leader of the Senate.

"I’m switching to John Edwards. Who says an ex-trial lawyer can’t really be a populist? He’s for the little guy because he started out as one. And it looks like Al Gore is too busy being good and honored to run."

When Edwards dropped out after a not-so-super Tuesday I again thoughtfully reconsidered. It was just as well, as he turned out to be more in love with his hair than his country or his wife.

"Hillary has demonstrated the guts of a bear and her human side is peeking through, too. Women are strong for her. Obama’s coming on also, and would make a fine vice president. Why, we could lock in 16 years of a democratic White House given a little team work among rivals!"

My wife is a career executive now retired. She has bumped against more glass ceilings than Einstein and Betty Friedan together could count. "I like Obama," she said.

It was my first indication that unity would not come easily to the Democratic party that year.
When Hillary settled for a "significant achievement," I sensed a pattern developing. "I’m a real kiss of death," I said to the wife, who quietly said nothing. "Way back I even voted for Adlai Stevenson. Twice. Maybe if I backed that Republican fella the Dems could win in November."
　
"Many women, passionate for one of their own to achieve the presidency, are feeling hurt and betrayed," I went on. "How now can they convincingly tell their daughters and grand daughters that ‘Some day you could be President?’"
　
My wife was more secure in her own skin than that. "You all need to get over it. Or don’t you
remember 1968?"

1968 was a year worth remembering. First, Lyndon Johnson took himself out of the running over Vietnam. Then Bobby Kennedy died tragically in Lost Angeles. Finally, from the tumult of the Chicago convention then vice-President Hubert Humphrey emerged as the Democratic nominee to the despair of Eugene McCarthy’s legions of college kids and anti-Vietnam war activists.

But Richard Nixon narrowly beat Humphrey in November because McCarthy’s followers sulked in their tents on election day, and we had more war and Watergate and Republicans as president for 20 of the next 24 years.

"Well," I said slowly, "Richardson, Edwards and Clinton have all come out for Barak Obama, who is already an historic figure, and . . ."

My wife smiled sweetly as only she can. "Now you’re talking," she said. "More coffee?"

That was then, and now of course the country has finally followed my lead. We even have a an echo of Abe Lincoln's team of rivals running the country with Hillary at State and Robert Gates staying on at Defense.

I remember thinking, "The market's up, real estate is rising, we have a new president set to retake the high road at home and abroad, what could possibly go wrong?"
　
　
　
　
　
　
　

We The People . . . Forming a More Perfect Union

Quickly, now: what is the significance of this date, September 17, 1787, in our nation’s history?

Kudos if you knew that it is the day that the U. S. Constitution was signed by 39 of the 55 state delegates that attended that miraculous Convention in Philadelphia at which it was not so much written as hammered out.

All of us know and celebrate with flags and fireworks the Fourth of July as Independence Day, the day tradition declares that Thomas Jefferson’s Declaration of Independence was adopted by the Continental Congress. The day we became free.

All of us know that the phrase, "Father of our Country," is the, well, seminal title that honors George Washington, who led us to revolutionary victory, presided over the Constitutional Convention and guided the new nation as President for its first eight precedent-setting years.

Few, though, associate our basic law with the name of the man constitutional scholars have long lauded as its Father: James Madison, fourth President of the United States and neighbor and colleague of Jefferson’s.

What did Madison do to earn that accolade? Only that he was the principal author of the constitution’s blue print, know to history as the Virginia Plan; that he served as unofficial recording secretary of the Constitutional Convention and his notes are the best, and nearly the only, record we have of that secretive proceeding; that he wrote xmany of the Federalist Papers, the series of essays that sold the American people on the virtues of their new constitution and that have influenced constitutions world-wide ever since.

And, oh yes, as a member of the first Congress assembled he drafted the first ten amendments to the constitution he fathered, amendments we know as the Bill of Rights.

In Virginia, Montpelier, Madison’s ancestral home, is again open to the public, thanks to its owner, the National Trust For Historic Preservation, following a five-year, $24 million restoration. The goals of the Trust and its partners go well beyond restoration and preservation, however, to giving the nation a place where Madison’s immense contributions can receive the recognition and understanding they deserve.

Madison knew and accepted that his brain child was, and would forever remain, a work in progress. Now that work continues on the grounds of Montpelier in the form of a new Center for the Constitution, where visiting historians and law professors tutor high school teachers and the occasional government official in constitutional theory.

The Constitution has changed as we have changed. While only 27 of the estimated 9,000 proposed amendments have been adopted, the courts have been busy applying its tersely eloquent provisions to the concrete facts of specific cases brought before them. For somebody must interpret its meaning if every wrong is to have its remedy.

So it was that in the case of Marbury vs Madison (1803) the Supreme Court ruled "It is emphatically the province and duty of the judicial department to say what the law is." The Constitution was only in force for 14 years when Madison’s fellow Virginian, Chief Justice John Marshall, wrote those words, easily the most important of his 35 year tenure on the Court.

But has it changed enough to keep up with our times? Another Virginian, Larry J. Sabato, doesn’t think so. His book, "A More Perfect Constitution," was published in 2007. It’s subtitle says it all: "23 Proposals to Revitalize Our Constitution and Make America a Fairer Country."

Sabato, founder and director of the Center for Politics at the University of Virginia, has an on line presence as well: www.centerforpolitics.org. There you can vote on his proposals (My favorite would require impartial redistricting), compose your own 24th proposal or comment on the multi-colored opinions and attempts at constitution writing by your fellow citizens. It, too, is a work in progress at which we all can labor.

But isn’t the Constitution a sacred text not to be tampered with? Many think so. But let wise old Ben Franklin again have the last word. Because Franklin was old and frail it was read for him by James Wilson as the Constitutional Convention closed in his beloved Philadelphia. Addressing Washington as chair, he said in part:

"I confess that I do not entirely approve of this Constitution at present; but, sir, I am not sure I shall never approve of it, for, having lived long, I have experienced many instances of being obliged . . . to change opinions even on important subjects, which I once thought right, but found to be otherwise. . . I agree to this Constitution with all its faults—if they are such—because I think a general government necessary for us, and there is no form of government but what may be a blessing to the people if well administered. . .

"I doubt, too, whether any other convention . . . may be able to make a better Constitution; for, when you assemble a number of men, to have the advantage of their joint wisdom, you inevitably assemble with those men all their prejudices, their passions, their errors of opinion, their local interests, and their selfish views. From such an assembly can a perfect production be expected?

"It therefore astonishes me, sir, to find this system approaching so near to perfection as it does. . . Thus I consent, sir, to this Constitution, because I expect no better, and because I am not sure that it is not the best. . ."
　

Why Aren't Batteries Included?

　
　
Have your Christmases been all-electronic lately? One of ours certainly was: a new high definition TV, a GPS and one of those electronic picture album thingies.

The TV was up and wonderously clear in time for the Rose Parade, thanks to the local signal provider, who plans a further monthly extraction from our wallets for his trouble. Although the clock only blinks for now. The other two remain resplendent in their boxes. Occasionally we circle them warily.

We appreciate them of course. We will confidently open the boxes any day now, and master their mysteries in good time. Along with the combination digital camera and binoculars given to us a season or so ago.

The new gadgets are so thick on the ground these days it is hard to keep up. Priority setting is needed. Which ones, at this time of counting them, are blessings? Which blessing is Number One and why?

For me it’s hands down the good old TV remote. I panic when it gets lost under the potato chip bag, or joins the dimes deep in the sofa, just when some unctuous voice is telling me what to ask my doctor. Of course most remotes are way too complicated. Two buttons are enough on mine: on/off and mute. My wife picks our channels on hers. We’re good at sharing power.

Next I like my car key at a distance. It is passing cool to unlock the car from the porch in the rain. I understand that some keys will even start the engine at a distance. That may be too complicated. The only time I use the panic sequence is by mistake. But I’m glad it’s there.

A close third, and for many of the same reasons, is the garage door opener. It’s even better now that it has been given the sense not to pin you to the ground. And it gets by with one button. If it’s up it knows to go down and vice versa.

Then there’s that stern disciplinarian, the electric tooth brush with timer. Each quadrant gets brushed equally because it tells you when to shift. You stop brushing when it does. It’s simple, effective, saves you money and your dentist likes you better. I’d like it even better if it wasn’t good for you.

Now we come to the multi-function machine attached to the computer on which I write. I especially like the copier. It reminds me of when I worked, which was so long ago that I had a real secretary who taught me how to use one. I use the printer, of course, but I’m not into scanning much yet. Occasionally, we wish we had bought one with a fax.

Last, and grudgingly, the computer itself is okay, no thanks to Microsoft. I made a career out of tending computers way back when they were room sized. They are a lot smaller now, but not much better once you get past their razzle dazzle specs and over abundant features and talk about what they can do for you. Email is great for passing jokes around and some of the stuff you find when surfing the web is quite startling. And I do like my mouse for Spider Solitare.

I wish the cell phone had never been invented. It’s nothing but an even more ubiquitous telephone intruding within the last bastions of privacy. I keep thinking people are talking to me -- or themselves -- when they are not. It gets tangled up with the car keys in my pocket and only gets taken out for wrong numbers, to turn it off in entertainment venues, or to locate my spouse when we get separated in some big box store.

Next Christmas, just to prove I am not a Luddite, I would like a Roomba and a Segway with a seat. And the Christmas after that I won’t settle for anything less than world peace and my own personal Robot.