American History Tellers - Encore: The Walker Affair | Nicaragua's Yankee President | 2

Episode Date: September 28, 2022

In 1855, William Walker faced a criminal trial in the United States for his illegal, and unsuccessful, invasion of Mexico. But he emerged from court fully acquitted, and to some, a national hero. Emboldened by his popularity, Walker set his sights on a new prize: Nicaragua, which had become a critical transit route between east and west.This series was originally released as a Wondery+ exclusive.Listen ad free with Wondery+. Join Wondery+ for exclusives, binges, early access, and ad free listening. Available in the Wondery App. https://wondery.app.link/historytellersSupport us by supporting our sponsors!See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

Wondery Plus subscribers can binge new seasons of American History Tellers early and ad-free right now. Join Wondery Plus in the Wondery app or on Apple Podcasts. Imagine it's March 1856 in New York City. You're an advisor to Cornelius Vanderbilt, one of the wealthiest individuals in America. You're sitting at a mahogany conference table in Vanderbilt's Manhattan office, along with 12 of his most trusted executives. At the head of the table sits the man himself, a tycoon they call the Commodore. As usual, Vanderbilt has only one thing on his mind, Nicaragua. It's

been an obsession for the past four years. He owns a transit company there and has a contract with the Nicaraguan government to build a canal. But with a recent change in power, his plans now hang in the balance. Vanderbilt turns to you. His bushy sideburns frame a stern expression. This new Nicaraguan president, Rivas. Can he be trusted? Absolutely, sir. He's little more than a puppet to American interests. Excellent. Gentlemen, the sooner we can start work on this canal, the better. It will give us a virtual monopoly on transit across the Central American isthmus. As Vanderbilt keeps talking, a door opens and a young assistant walks in.

He nervously hands you a letter. It's from one of your agents in Central America, marked urgent. As you read it, you feel drops of sweat start to gather on your forehead. Vanderbilt continues on. For now, my transit route is the only passage through that godforsaken jungle. Um, sir, excuse me, my steamboats are the only ways in and out. But our exclusive contract with the government expires in five years. So to secure our interests in Nicaragua, we need that canal.

Mr. Vanderbilt, sir. Vanderbilt gives you a withering glare. He hates being interrupted, almost as much as he hates losing money. What is it? It's news from Nicaragua, sir. The government has revoked your transit charter. Soldiers have seized all your ships and have taken control of the ports. What? No, you must be mistaken. That's what our agent there says here. Vanderbilt slams the mahogany table in anger, sending papers flying. I thought you said the new president could be

trusted. It's not President Revis who's behind this, sir. It says here that it's William Walker. Walker? The filibuster? Yes, sir. Looks like he's taking control of the army in the ports. Reports are saying he now wants control of the whole country. You've seen your boss angry before, but never like this. He's trembling with rage, but there's a quiet resolve in his voice. Send a telegram to the Secretary of State's office. Tell him I'm on my way to Washington and need to see him immediately. Walker thinks he can stand in my way. He's a bigger fool than I thought. As you hurry off to do the Commodore's bidding, you wonder how this could have happened. When William Walker took his first filibuster army to Nicaragua, you advised Vanderbilt that

Walker would be a nuisance at most. Like most Americans, you remember his failed campaign to establish a republic in Mexico. You assume this latest venture would also collapse. Now somehow he's gotten the upper hand. But he's also made a powerful enemy in Cornelius Vanderbilt. He will stop at nothing to maintain his control of Nicaragua's transit routes. They're the key to his plans for a Central American canal and eventually a monopoly on all transit between America's east and west coasts. And you know, to secure that vision, Vanderbilt is prepared to wage war. Get 90 seconds to pitch to an audience of potential customers. If the audience liked the product, it gets them in front of our panel of experts. Gwyneth Paltrow.

Anthony Anderson. Tabitha Brown. Tony Hawk. Oh, my God. Buy it now. Stream free on Freeview and Prime Video. From Wondering comes a new series about a lawyer who broke all the rules. Need to launder some money?

Broker a deal with a drug cartel? Take out a witness? Paul can do it. I'm your host, Brandon James Jenkins. Follow Criminal Attorney on the Wondery app or wherever you get your podcasts. From Wondery, I'm Lindsey Graham, and this is American History Tellers. Our history. Your story. As the Spanish Empire retreated from Central America in the 1800s, the region devolved into chaos. Landowning elites, democratic revolutionaries, the Catholic Church, native tribes, and the British and American militaries all clashed for control of the region's resources and land. The biggest prize in Central America, though, did not yet exist, but its potential would drive decades of conflict. Construction of a canal across the narrowest part of the isthmus, somewhere in Nicaragua or Panama,

was the holy grail of economic development in the region. Such a canal would connect the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans, opening up a new trade route between the East and West and bringing extraordinary wealth to whoever could build and control it. In 1855, American filibuster William Walker stepped into this volatile region in search of new conquests. He was fresh from an embarrassing defeat in Mexico, where he had attempted to establish a new American territory in the Baja Peninsula, but was quickly pushed out by Mexican militias. Now Walker's ambitions would lead him to another corner of Latin America, where he would once again use his cunning and opportunism

to capture power in a spectacular fashion. And once again, he would leave a path of destruction and mayhem in his wake. This is Episode 2, Nicaragua's American President. With the start of the California Gold Rush in the late 1840s, thousands of migrants headed west for the chance to strike it rich. But in the days before the Transcontinental Railroad, trekking by land across the wilds of North America could take months. Instead, most traveled via a quicker but no less treacherous route through Central America. The journey usually began with a steamboat from New York or New Orleans to Panama. From there, travelers would journey across the isthmus on rail, riverboat, even the backs of donkeys,

across jungles and mountains. The arduous crossing would then conclude with another steamboat journey up the Pacific coast to San Francisco. In 1848, fewer than 350 people undertook this journey. But with the promise of gold, four years later, by 1852, that number swelled to nearly 25,000. They were almost all young, single men, hard-drinking and heavily armed, as reckless a set of villains as one could see anywhere, according to one newspaper. In this chaotic, dangerous setting, American entrepreneur Cornelius Vanderbilt saw opportunity. Vanderbilt made his fortune in steamships and railroads,

helping to ignite the Industrial Age. He was one of the richest men in America. And in 1849, he brought his considerable wealth and ambition to Central America with the goal of radically changing the passage through the region. Vanderbilt undercut the established Panamanian route by opening up an alternative route through Nicaragua, farther up the Isthmus. Geographically, it was a smart choice, but politically it was risky. Nicaragua had become an independent republic when it seceded from the Federal Republic of Central America in 1838, only a decade earlier. And since its independence, the country had been beset with internal division, conflict, and bouts of outright civil war. On one side were the conservative, land-owning elites known as the Legitimists.

They filled the void of the Spanish Empire and had the support of the Catholic Church. Their enemies were the liberals, who hoped to forge an American-style democracy. Vanderbilt had negotiated the rights to his transit route with the Legitimists, who were in power at the time. His route shortened the journey by several days and 700 miles. And through his accessory transit company, Vanderbilt controlled every aspect of it. But this transit route was just the beginning. The Legitimist government also granted Vanderbilt the right to build a canal that would increase his transit company's capacity

exponentially. Vanderbilt was hell-bent on finishing this canal ahead of a 12-year deadline, but the enormity of the project conspired against him. He was impeded at almost every turn by politics, logistics, and the ballooning cost of the enterprise, upwards of $3 billion in today's dollars. Still, until a canal could be built, Vanderbilt's accessory transit company remained the linchpin of his Central American endeavors, and he would use all of his considerable wealth, power, and influence to protect it. In a courtroom in 1854, William Walker was acquitted of all charges of violating the Neutrality Act for his aborted invasion of Mexico. He returned to his career in the newspaper

business, but found it unsatisfying. To him, his acquittal vindicated his attempt to wage a private war in Mexico's Baja Peninsula. He was eager to try his hand at filibustering again, but was unsure of where to do it. Then his employer returned from a gold prospecting journey in Nicaragua with an exciting proposition. Nicaragua was descending into civil war after an inconclusive election, and the liberal leader Francisco Castellón needed help. Castellón was willing to offer Walker a 21,000-acre land grant if he would bring a fighting force of 300 mercenaries to join the liberal army. Walker accepted the offer, and in February 1855,

he quit his job at the newspaper and began assembling his men. He had learned from his struggles with untrained recruits in Mexico, so the nucleus of Walker's new venture was made up of experienced soldiers, including many veterans of the Mexican-American War. Still, he could only muster 85 men aboard his contracted ship, the Vesta, which one adventurer described as a leaky old brig which had weathered the waves for 29 years. The Vesta took five weeks to reach the coast of Nicaragua. By that time, the United States had recognized the conservative, legitimate government that opposed Castillon. Castillon's enemies were now inching towards total control. But Walker was undeterred and even enthused by the challenge.

To him, there was little glory in joining an army that was already winning a war. But saving a lost cause offered him a chance to secure his legacy. On the morning of June 16th, Walker and his men disembarked near the liberal stronghold of Leon on Nicaragua's Pacific coast. They were met by Charles Doubleday, an American adventurer who'd been made colonel by Castillon. Doubleday was not particularly impressed with Walker, whom he described as quiet and unassuming, as mild-mannered a man as ever cut a throat or scuttled a ship. Castillon, though his liberal government did not control the country, bestowed Walker and

his men with Nicaraguan citizenship and designated Walker's force as La Falange Americana, the American phalanx. Like Doubleday, Walker was given the rank of colonel. Walker's first plan was to march upon Rivas, a key juncture in the conservative supply line. But as their assault on Rivas began, Walker and his phalanx were abandoned by their Nicaraguan liberal army comrades. The Nicaraguan general in charge was wary of defeat and unwilling to sacrifice his own men for the glory of a foreigner. Unaware that they no longer had support, Walker and his men ran headlong at the enemy.

One soldier later said, We were firing our revolvers in our opponents' faces and thrusting our way through their ranks before they had any notion of what we were about. But despite their enthusiasm, Walker's troops were routed. By the time he managed to orchestrate a retreat, the new colonel had lost more than twenty men. The injured left behind at Revis were all executed by the Legitimists. It was an uninspiring start for Walker. To local residents, his escaping force looked more like a parade of tramps than soldiers, covered in filth and blood, some with arms and slings and makeshift crutches,

missing clothing and boots. Nevertheless, they worked their way north to the safety of Lyon to regroup. After his attack, Walker was fearful of a reprisal by the Legitimists, but the death of their president, followed by a cholera outbreak that decimated their troops, bought him some time. During the break from fighting, Walker would take long walks on the beach with Charles Doubleday, the American adventurer. By now, the two had become friends, and Walker confided in Doubleday about his grander plan to eventually seize control of all Nicaragua and expand into nearby Honduras and Costa Rica. Walker's ultimate goal, he told Doubleday, was to establish a United States of Central America, of which Walker would be the leader. Its economy, he explained, would be built on a foundation of slavery, and even though all

Central American nations had banned the practice decades earlier. Walker's promotion of slavery shocked Doubleday, who later wrote, During my short acquaintance with Walker, he had developed a despotic character, which I was unwilling to subject myself to. On October 3, 1855, Doubleday tendered his resignation and left the country. But that didn't matter much to Walker. More and more recruits were arriving by the day, lured by the promise of land and adventure. Vessels bound for Nicaragua from the harbors of San Francisco and New Orleans were so full that scores of men were left on the dock to wait for the next ship. They all came for different, often conflicting reasons.

And as Walker's vision of a Central American slave state became clearer, their arguments became a microcosm of larger forces that were tearing at the fabric of America itself. Imagine it's fall 1855. It's getting cold back home, but still sweltering here in the lush jungles of Nicaragua. You're from San Francisco, a volunteer soldier in William Walker's army. You're on horseback, leading a band of freshly arrived recruits along the muddy dirt road from the Pacific coast to Walker's headquarters in Lyon. The men around you sing songs of home. Lately, more and more of them are singing songs of Dixie.

A new recruit riding alongside you gestures at the bandage on your arm. You get that in Revis? Man, I wish I could have been there. I heard you fought back the enemy like gladiators. No, you heard wrong, kid. We were lucky to escape with our lives. Well, there's more of us now. More coming every day. Soon Colonel Walker will rule this whole damn place. The United States of Central America. It's got a ring to it. Don't get ahead of yourself. There's plenty of war to be fought before we get to all of that. And unlike you Louisiana hotheads, I've actually seen some real

war. Fought alongside Walker in Mexico, so I know what we're in for. These Legitimists have got a real army, and we'll beat them right back into the jungles where they came from. This is God's plan. Manifest destiny. When Walker becomes president, we'll build plantations and get fat off the land. Watch these Nicaraguans tend our fields while we sit on our verandas, sipping whiskey. Walker has always attracted a few pro-slavery types. But lately, your patience for this kind of talk is wearing thin. You turn and look at the recruits square in the eye.

Oh, now listen, you damn fool. I did not come all the way down here to plant a flag for a slave plantation. I'd rather go back to San Francisco and drink myself to an early grave than fight alongside you slack-jawed southern boys. The other recruits overhear this and laugh. They think you're joking, but you are not. You decide that the next morning before dawn, you'll steal away with a horse. You want no part in establishing a slave state. You'll board the next steamer for San Francisco and try to forget you ever heard the name William Walker. The growing division over slavery that was threatening to tear apart the United States also tore at Walker's growing American phalanx. Many decided that they were unwilling to die for Walker's vision of a Central American slave economy and deserted.

But as one left, two more would arrive, and soon the men were sent back into action. The months of September and October 1855 were a cat-and-mouse game between Walker's army and General Ponciano Corral, a popular Legitimist politician turned military leader. Wary of Walker's designs on Rivas, Corral consolidated his men in that city and the Legitimist capital, Granada. But Walker hatched a devious plan to draw Corral out. He convinced the liberals to march their army on another legitimate stronghold, Managua, as a decoy. Walker's plan worked. Corral sent his forces to Managua,

leaving Granada virtually unguarded. Then, as night fell on October 11th, Walker and his men marched down Cornelius Vanderbilt's transit road to Lake Nicaragua. There, they surprised the crew of a sizable passenger steamer named La Virgen, which was also owned by Vanderbilt's company. They overpowered the ship's American crew and captain and took control of the vessel. With a squadron of 200 Americans and 200 Nicaraguans aboard, the ship steamed across the lake in the dead of night, extinguishing its lights as it approached Granada. At 3 a.m., Walker's forces disembarked and descended upon the unprotected city with lightning speed. By the time dawn broke, Walker had captured Granada

without losing a single man. Walker detained any Legitimus politicians who still remained in the city, along with their wives and children. Next, he ordered the public execution of a key member of the Legitimus cabinet. Only then did he invite General Corral to Granada to negotiate a truce. With the lives of so many Legitimist families on the line, the General was left with little choice but to submit to Walker's demands. A provisional government that shared power between the Legitimists and the Liberals was assembled, with William Walker at the center of it. A Liberal named Patricio Rivas was installed

in power, along with a cabinet made up of members from both parties. The armed forces of both sides were to be combined, although many Nicaraguan conscripts simply returned home, leaving Walker's burgeoning American ranks as the dominant force. With Walker seizing Granada, Nicaragua's long-running war seemed to be finally over. But it was not the legitimists or the liberals who had won. Nicaraguans greeted William Walker as the victor and looked to the future with cautious optimism. Though he was an outsider, they thought perhaps his military strength could finally unify their country. And when he and General Corral marched together through the streets of Granada to symbolize the end of the conflict,

Walker described seeing the doors and windows of houses filled with women and children, smiling through tears at the prospect of peace. But elsewhere, Walker's victory drew alarm. Other Central American nations now felt the American filibuster posed an existential threat to the whole region. Walker also made an enemy of Cornelius Vanderbilt. Walker's actions had destabilized the entire nation of Nicaragua, putting Vanderbilt's ships, roads, and businesses at risk.

Soon, to protect his interests, the tycoon would strike back. In November 1991, media tycoon Robert Maxwell mysteriously vanished from his luxury yacht in the Canary Islands. But it wasn't just his body that would come to the surface in the days that followed. It soon emerged that Robert's business was on the brink of collapse, and behind his facade of wealth and success was a litany of bad investments, mounting debt, and multi-million dollar fraud. Hi, I'm Lindsey Graham, the host of Wondery Show Business Movers. We tell the true stories of business leaders who risked it all, the critical moments that define their journey,

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or on Apple Podcasts. William Walker's invasion of Nicaragua threatened to disrupt Cornelius Vanderbilt's interest in the region. He had already hijacked one of Vanderbilt's steamers to launch his surprise attack on Granada. And now, for Vanderbilt, the situation was about to get even worse. Just days after the fall of Granada, a one-armed Walker associate named

Parker French disembarked in Nicaragua with a new shipment of recruits from San Francisco. Without orders to do so, he commandeered the very same vessel that Walker had previously hijacked and used it to attempt to storm a Legitimist fort on the shore of Lake Nicaragua. The assault was unsuccessful, but while French and his men fled, the Legitimists counterattacked by raining down cannonballs and rifle fire on the next company vessel in sight. That ship was full of civilian passengers. A mother and daughter were killed, and another child lost a limb. The next day, a force of 100 Legitimists swarmed the offices of Vanderbilt's Accessory Transit Company

and opened fire, killing five and wounding nine. Thanks to the actions of Walker and his agent Parker French, Vanderbilt's businesses were now targets in the war. And Walker's assault on Vanderbilt's interests only continued. In order to finance his new provisional government, Walker conspired with an agent of the Accessory Transit Company to embezzle $20,000 from a shipment trusted to the company, approximately half a million in today's currency. Walker would go on to use ATC ships and transit lines as his own personal supply chain, disrupting planned services at will. The stolen funds were enough to get the provisional government off the ground, but within it Walker was besieged by internal strife. As an olive branch, the defeated General Corral had been named Minister of War,

but he schemed against Walker at every possible opportunity. Walker's men intercepted a batch of letters sent by the ex-general to legitimate friendly leaders in neighboring Honduras, writing that Nicaragua was badly, badly off, and if there was not swift action against Walker, he would invade Honduras, writing that Nicaragua was badly, badly off, and if there was not swift action against Walker, he would invade Honduras next. Corral's letters were a clear invitation for a coup. An irate Walker immediately summoned Corral to the capital city of Granada and accused him of treason. A brief sham trial followed, with a jury made of six filibusters. Corral's defense attorney

was the ship-stealing Parker French, and Walker himself the judge. Unsurprisingly, the verdict was guilty, and tearful pleading from Corral's daughters could not allay the sentence. Death by firing squad. On the afternoon of November 8, 1855, General Corral was tied to a chair in front of Granada's largest cathedral, set in its main plaza.

With a handkerchief tied around his eyes, Corral spoke his last word, Pronto, make it fast. The rifles fired, and Corral's blood stained the soil of the country he had fought over for years. Walker had intended to make an example of Corral, but instead he made him a martyr. Corral's public execution confirmed the fear of

many Nicaraguans. Walker was bent on seizing and retaining power by any means. And these fears only grew worse when Walker issued a proclamation inviting Americans to settle in Nicaragua, offering 250 acres of land to solo colonizers and 350 acres to families. Walker's agent, Parker French, bought ads that splashed the offer on the pages of the New York Times. Another Walker supporter wrote a letter to the editor that lauded the filibuster as the savior of Nicaragua, a man who had brought peace to a war-torn land. The propaganda worked. Over the next few months, several thousand more recruits made their way to Nicaragua. Walker was well on his way to building a private army of white Americans

with the intent of reimagining Nicaragua as an Anglo-Saxon slave state. In late 1855, while Walker's push for American emigrants was heating up, the battle between him and Cornelius Vanderbilt had reached a boiling point. Vanderbilt's Accessory Transit Company operated under a charter that promised payments to the Nicaraguan government of $10,000 a year. Upon inspecting the charter and the government's ledgers, Walker and his lawyers concluded that the company had failed to make payments, rendering the charter void. On behalf of the government, Walker seized all of Vanderbilt's property in Nicaragua—ships, buildings, roads, docks, and everything held within them—a total value of over $34 million in today's currency. Walker then sold the seized goods to his business

partners for half the price. A furious Vanderbilt met with the U.S. Secretary of State, as well as the ambassadors of every other Central American nation, warning them of Walker's dictatorial actions. Then he retaliated by halting all steamships to Nicaragua, effectively stranding the American contingent and cutting off supplies. Over time, this move could doom Walker's forces. But Walker was too busy to notice. On March 1, 1856, just weeks after Walker

seized Vanderbilt's transit company, Costa Rica declared war against the Nicaraguan filibusters. Refusing to wait idly for an attack, on March 16, Walker sent 250 men to the Costa Rican border, where they were to invade and capture the town of Liberia. The brigade were mostly new arrivals from New Orleans, entirely unprepared, undrilled, and undisciplined. The Costa Rican troops surprised them with a hail of gunfire, captured the majority of Walker's soldiers, and executed the survivors. Those who escaped trudged through the jungles and arrived at Granada bloodied, half-naked, and in a state of shock.

Costa Rica's army was led by General Jose Mora, heir to a large coffee plantation and brother of Costa Rica's president, Juan Mora. Though he lacked combat experience, General Mora proved to be a shrewd and ruthless tactician. Mora promptly moved into Nicaraguan territory with 500 men, arriving at the town of Virgin Bay on Lake Nicaragua on April 7th. It was a port town on Vanderbilt's transit route, populated mainly by American workers, business people, and travelers. Without warning, Mora's men opened fire and mowed them down. It was a slaughter. Then Mora set the port's 1,600-foot wharf ablaze. From there, they marched

north to the larger town of Revis, which they quickly occupied. General Mora later justified his attack on Virgin Bay as a response to the Americans' flagrant acts of aggression that attempted to establish the supremacy of another race. Incensed, Walker immediately led a counterattack. He marched with his men 40 miles from Granada to Revis in the dead of night. With the element of surprise, Walker's men swept into Rivas with guns blazing, intent on taking General Moore a prisoner as a prize. Walker's army swarmed into the town's central plaza, but their headlong charge to the center of the city inadvertently allowed the Costa Ricans to encircle them, and the tide soon turned.

The Americans were reduced to a defensive posture, holed up in buildings which the Costa Ricans lit on fire. One Costa Rican soldier, a drummer boy named Juan Santamaria, became a martyr and a national hero when he was killed torching Walker's headquarters. By midnight, Walker had no choice but to retreat. He abandoned the wounded and snuck out of the city. The loss was a major embarrassment. Fifty-eight of Walker's men were dead, sixty-two wounded, and once again his weaknesses as a military commander had been laid bare. Walker's enemies saw that his empire was vulnerable, and among his soldiers morale plummeted. Once again, as they had in Mexico, Walker's men began deserting. Many began plundering local farms and ranches, rustling cattle and stealing anything of value.

In the Nicaraguan countryside, whatever support the American filibuster may once have enjoyed was rapidly drying up. Imagine it's April 1856. You're a Nicaraguan farmer from a little village outside the liberal capital of León. You're walking across your few acres of land with a low-level government official, a representative from the Liberal Party, you were exhausted by the bloodshed and chaos. All you wanted was peace, so you could raise your cattle, grow your crops, and feed your family. But things turned sour quickly. Now you're desperate. You gesture to the empty corral that once held all your cattle. Sir, I have never asked anything of you before, but I can't go on like this. First Walker's men stole our animals. Then they used much of my ranch as a military camp. They ate all my food.

They did this to all the ranchers here. When one of my neighbors dared to protest, they murdered him in cold blood. Tch, I wish you'd keep your voice down. You never know who's listening. You gaze around you at the empty field you're standing in. This official is so paranoid, you almost feel sorry for him. Who can hear us out here? Besides, if there really are spies in the bushes, let them hear me because I've got nothing left to lose.

I'm sorry. I agree with everything you say. We invited this man in because we thought he could help us overthrow the Legitimists. Anybody's turned out to be far worse. Still, I think there is hope. Where? With President Rivas? He's a weakling. He doesn't make a move without Walker's say-so. Rivas has more backbone than you realize,

and Walker's men are losing to the Costa Ricans. Their General Mora makes Walker look like a child. How about a little money so I can buy more cattle? The official looks pained. No, I'm sorry. The liberal party's coffers are empty. But still, have faith. The tide is turning. I'll believe that when I see the Costa Rican army on my doorstep. Well, for that, you might not have to wait long. There are whispers from Guatemala, Honduras. They're raising forces, too. Soon we'll have our land back. Our people will be united, as we should have been all along.

Yeah, and until then, just don't lose hope, my friend. It's clear the liberal representative can't offer you anything but words. So you turn to leave, heading back to your ranch. You do not share his optimism for the future of your country. But until this latest war is over, you have no other choice but to tend to your few remaining livestock, share what little food you can grow with your neighbors, pray for a solution to the turmoil that William Walker has brought upon your nation.

For centuries, under Spanish colonial control, through civil wars and now to William Walker's invasion, the people of Nicaragua had borne wave after wave of oppression and violence. Countless lives had been destroyed by war, famine, and disease. And by 1856, many had given up hope. But with the early victories of the Costa Rican army, some saw light at the end of the tunnel. But then fate dealt the Nicaraguans another blow, a cholera epidemic. The disease spread rampantly, infecting thousands throughout Central America.

General Mora's forces were decimated by the illness, and he was forced to retreat back to Costa Rica. Walker used the temporary peace to address growing instability among his supporters. Specifically, he learned that President Rivas had begun making overtures for peace to the Costa Ricans without consulting Walker. In response, on May 30, Walker marched with 200 men to the liberal stronghold of Leon to confront Rivas and remove him from his position. Walker demanded that Rivas call an emergency presidential election, to which Rivas responded by declaring Walker a usurper and dismissing him from the army.

But by now, Nicaragua's army was made up almost entirely of American mercenaries. It was an empty gesture. With Rivas powerless to stop him, Walker went ahead with the election less than two weeks later, with himself as the primary candidate. The voting was concentrated in Granada, where some of Walker's men reportedly cast as many as 20 ballots each. To nobody's surprise, Walker was declared the winner. On July 12, 1856, William Walker was sworn in as the president of Nicaragua with a parade and a banquet. In less than a year, the former doctor, former lawyer, former newspaper editor had gone from foreign mercenary to president, despite repeated losses on the battlefield and dwindling support around the country he now claimed to rule. He was 32 years old. Back in the United States, President Franklin Pierce

was struggling for his own presidency, scrambling for allies. In an attempt to curry favor in the South, where Walker was popular, Pierce recognized his regime in Nicaragua as legitimate. For a brief moment, William Walker reigned supreme. But to seize power, he had waged a relentless campaign of terror, turmoil, and strife. Now he was surrounded by far more enemies than allies. And the very ruthlessness that had helped him secure the presidency would soon become his downfall. In each episode, the entrepreneurs get 90 seconds to pitch to an audience of potential customers. This is match point, baby.

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Richard Bandler revolutionized the world of self-help all thanks to an approach he developed called neurolinguistic programming. Even though NLP worked for some, its methods have been criticized for being dangerous in the wrong hands. Throw in Richard's dark past as a cocaine addict and murder suspect,

and you can't help but wonder what his true intentions were. I'm Sachi Cole. And I'm Sarah Hagee. And we're the hosts of Scamfluencers, a weekly podcast from Wondery that takes you along the twists and turns of the most infamous scams of all time, the impact on victims, and what's left once the facade falls away. We recently dove into the story of the godfather of modern mental manipulation, Richard Bandler, whose methods inspired some of the most toxic and criminal self-help movements of the last two decades. Follow Scamfluencers on the Wondery app

or wherever you get your podcasts. You can listen to Scamfluencers and more Exhibit C true crime shows like Morbid and Kill List early and ad-free right now by joining Wondery Plus. Check out Exhibit C in the Wondery app for all your true crime listening. In the summer of 1856, Nicaragua's new president, William Walker, clung to power by becoming a dictator. In an effort to establish a navy, he seized a number of ships that pulled into harbor at San Juan del Sur, the country's largest Pacific port. He purged the government of enemies, real or perceived, doling out death sentences on charges of treason with little or no provocation. Walker's government had no legislature or judicial system beyond military tribunals. He governed by edict, announcing the seizure of property owned by enemies of the state, changing the language of all government documents to English,

and passing a vagrancy law that could force idle men into slave labor on the ranches and plantations of his allies. He was bold-faced about the reasons for his decision, stating, they were intended to place a large portion of the land into the hands of the white race. Now that he had power, Walker's racism became more overt. In his writings, he referred to the Nicaraguans as half-castes and uncivilized. He spoke of Africans as aiding in no manner the progress of civilization. His opinions on slavery, once vague, now became clear.

He viewed it as the white man's divine birthright and came to see African slaves as central to his Nicaraguan economy. On September 22, 1856, Walker rescinded the 1838 Nicaraguan law that banned slavery. With what became known as his slavery decree, Walker's slide towards despotism was complete. For his opponents in Central America, it was the final straw. The legitimists and liberals in Nicaragua set aside their once insurmountable differences and joined forces, along with the armies of Costa Rica, Honduras, Guatemala, and El Salvador. Together, they amassed a force of 6,000 men. At its peak, Walker's army was only 1,500 men.

But with desertions and deaths from disease and battle, that number had dwindled to fewer than a thousand. And those that remained were not seasoned soldiers. Most were clerks, laborers, and farmers. According to Walker's muster rolls, fewer than 40 had described themselves as soldiers at the time of joining. They were poorly disciplined, turning to drink in their idle hours. Many went into battle completely inebriated. And Walker's control over Nicaragua, described in the United States as complete, was only about 25 square miles of a 50,000 square mile country.

His hold on the nation was growing more tenuous by the moment. Predictably, Walker decided that his problems were not his own military ineptitude or the inexperience of his men. Instead, he blamed everything on his tactical position at Granada, which he felt was poorly situated, too far from the coast, and too far north for launching offenses against the Costa Rican army. So Walker believed he had only one solution. He had to abandon Granada. But first, he commissioned a soldier of fortune to burn it to the ground. Imagine it's November 1856. You're a Belgian soldier of fortune who snuck into Nicaragua a few weeks ago. You had hoped to join the army of the new president of Nicaragua, William Walker.

You fought in wars from Spain to Hungary, and at first you were thrilled to be thrown into the thick of this new battle. But now you're having your doubts. The Allied Central American forces are stronger than you expected, and President Walker seems to have no clear strategy for winning. He's left you with a grim assignment. A messenger runs towards you across the plaza, breathing hard. General, the Costa Ricans are approaching from the south. The Hondurans from the east. I'm not sure we can hold the city for much longer. We don't have to. We have new orders. We're to destroy the city immediately. Burn Granada to the ground. Find the other battalions and spread the word. General, the city's full of civilians, women, children. I didn't ask you for a census. I gave you an order.

Now go. The messenger turns and looks down Granada's main avenue. You follow his gaze. It's lined with stately colonial buildings, some over 300 years old. You're not immune to their beauty. But orders are orders. I said go, soldier. You look down the avenue.

Your gaze falls on an old stone church with soaring, ornate bell towers. It would make a good fort in case the Honduran and Costa Rican armies storm the city before you complete your task. See that church? Leave that standing. But burn the rest. And with that, you go off in search of your battalion commanders. The ones not on the front lines are probably off somewhere getting drunk, but that's okay. Even a drunk soldier can torch a building.

On November 18, 1856, with the Central American Allied forces closing in, Walker ordered his men to burn down the capital city of Granada. He entrusted the destruction to a recently arrived Belgian mercenary and munitions expert named Charles Henningsen, whose long list of previous military campaigns seemed to make him the ideal man for the gruesome task. But the draconian measure was a disaster. Henningsen's men got so drunk that it took weeks to raise the sea.

And by that time, Costa Rican and Honduran forces had laid siege to them in one of the few structures left standing, the 230-year-old Guadalupe Church. When Henningsen and his men finally managed to escape, only 149 of them were left. Another 120 had died of cholera, 110 killed in the fighting, and 40 had deserted. As Henningsen and the last of his men fled the city via steamboat, he erected a sign on the wharf that read, Here was Granada. When word of Henningsen's actions spread around the country, it turned what little local support Walker had left firmly against him. The remnants of Walker's army were now enemies of the state, and Nicaraguan soldiers joined the Allied forces

in the effort to drive them out. Now, another enemy of Walker's made his move, Cornelius Vanderbilt. In December, he sent an envoy to Costa Rica named Sylvanus Spencer, a cunning seaman with intimate knowledge of Nicaragua's riverways. Through Spencer, Vanderbilt offered the Costa Ricans $40,000 in funds and a detailed plan to retake his pan-Nicaraguan transit route. Costa Rican General Jose Mora was more than happy to provide men for the mission and to operate under Spencer's command. On December 10th, Spencer set out with a contingent of 120 Costa Ricans to launch a series of carefully executed surprise attacks that retook the Nicaraguan river system and the entirety of Walker's fleet. One by one, Spencer

boarded ships and presented the same ultimatum, surrender for safe passage out of the country or die. Not a single one of the captured ships protested. With the Costa Ricans now controlling the waterways, allied forces of Nicaraguans, Guatemalans, Hondurans, and Salvadorans moved into the villages and cities throughout the country and set up fortifications, encroaching ever closer to Walker's last stronghold at Revis. An increasingly desperate Walker took to public executions of captured deserters,

but his tactics only aroused indignation and disgust in the men that remained. Mass desertions followed. By late March of 1857, Walker was hemmed in at Revis by Allied forces. The siege turned ugly. Walker's men had to smelt their own ammunition and resorted to killing horses for meat. But with the horses gone, they had no way to escape. As the situation reached its most desperate point, the U.S. Navy arrived at the nearby port of San Juan del Sur. It was the USS St. Mary's, a three-masted sloop of war with 22 cannons and 162 men aboard. Officially, the ship had been sent by the Secretary of the Navy, but behind the scenes,

Cornelius Vanderbilt had lobbied to have it dispatched. The captain of the St. Mary's, Charles Davis, disembarked from the ship and met with Walker to negotiate a surrender. At first, Walker refused. But finally, Henningsen convinced him that the terms were favorable. General Mora had agreed to let Walker surrender to the U.S. Navy rather than to the Central American forces and would permit the departure of any filibusters from Nicaragua under the protection of the U.S. flag. Walker was left with no choice. On May 1, 1857, with the few horses that remained, he and his officers rode out of Revis under protection of the U.S. Navy

to board the St. Mary's in surrender. But even in defeat, Walker remained defiant. When a Navy officer aboard the St. Mary's asked him to identify himself, he replied, William Walker, President of Nicaragua. But Walker's reign as president was over, and now once again he would face justice back in his home country. But to the many Americans for whom filibustering was still seen as a noble pursuit, he was a hero.

Though he had ultimately been unsuccessful, Walker had come closer than any filibuster before him to conquering a foreign nation. Now, as he looked back from the deck of the St. Mary's at the country he had briefly ruled, William Walker silently vowed that he would return, and next time there would be no surrender. From Wondery, this is episode two of The Walker Affair from American History Tellers. On the next episode, William Walker returns to the United States defeated, but his dreams of empire remain undiminished. Soon, he develops an even greater plan to seize power in Central America, but this time, the Central Americans are ready for him.

If you like American History Tellers, you can binge all episodes early and ad-free right now by joining Wondery Plus in the Wondery app or on Apple Podcasts. Prime members can listen ad-free on Amazon Music. And before you go, tell us about yourself by filling out a short survey at wondery.com slash survey. If you'd like to learn more about William Walker, we recommend the book William Walker's Wars by Scott Martell. American History Tellers is hosted, edited, and produced by me, Lindsey Graham, for Airship. Audio editing by Molly Bach. Sound design by Derek Behrens. Music by Lindsey Graham.

This episode is written by Jamal Khawaja, edited by Dorian Marina. Our managing producer is Tanja Digpen. Our coordinating producer is Matt Gant. And our senior producer is Andy Herman. Executive producers are Jenny Lauer Beckman and Marsha Louis for Wondery. In the Pacific Ocean, halfway between Peru and New Zealand, lies a tiny volcanic island. It's a little-known British territory called Pitcairn, and it harboured a deep, dark scandal. There wouldn't be a girl on Pitcairn

once they reached the age of 10 that would still a virgin. It just happens to all of us. I'm journalist Luke Jones, and for almost two years, I've been investigating a shocking story that has left deep scars on generations of women and girls from Pitcairn. When there's nobody watching, nobody going to report it, people will get away with what they can get away with. In the Pitcairn Trials, I'll be uncovering a story of abuse

and the fight for justice that has brought a unique, lonely Pacific island to the brink of extinction. Listen to the Pitcairn Trials exclusively on Wondery+. Join Wondery in the Wondery app, Apple Podcasts or Spotify.