American History Tellers - Reconstruction Era | The Radical Revolution | 2

Episode Date: June 7, 2023

In December 1865, the first postwar Congress convened in Washington, D.C. With Black Southerners still facing rampant violence and discrimination, the Republican majority blocked the former Confederate states from rejoining the Union.Determined to protect Black rights and curb the power of ex-Confederates, Radical Republican leaders Thaddeus Stevens and Charles Sumner vowed to seize control of Reconstruction. But President Andrew Johnson wielded his veto power to fight back. While the rift between the President and Congress deepened, millions of freed people struggled to maintain their autonomy and economic independence.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 December 4th, 1865 in Washington, D.C. You're the clerk of the House of Representatives, and today Congress is convening for the first time since the Civil War ended, and the mood is tense. Newly elected representatives from the South, many of them former Confederates, have brazenly arrived to take their seats. It's the first time that Northern representatives and their Southern counterparts have been in the same room since the fighting ended, and it's your job to call roll to begin the new session. But Republican leaders have instructed you to omit the names of all the Southern delegates until you decide how and when to readmit the former rebel states. You followed

those instructions, but now you're reaching the end of the roll call. Honorable Walter A. Burley. Honorable E.D. Hallbrook. Two men raise their hands in acknowledgement of hearing their name. But then a third jumps to his feet. Mr. Clerk. You look up to find the source of the interruption. You recognize the man as Horace Maynard, a representative from Tennessee. I am compelled to object to any interruption of the roll call. Maynard, a representative from Tennessee. I am compelled to object to any interruption of the roll call. Maynard looks incredulous. Does the clerk decline to hear me? I decline to permit

any interruption of the roll call. Sit back down. But Maynard remains standing, his arms folded across his chest. You decide to ignore him and continue addressing the room. Now that 176 members have answered their names, a quorum is present. It's time to proceed to the election of a Speaker of the 39th Congress. Mr. Clerk, before the motion is, sit down. As a matter of order, I cannot recognize any gentleman whose name is not on my roll. Maynard slams his fist on the table in front of him, his face contorted with anger. In his other hand, he waves a piece of paper. I am holding in my hand credentials from the governor of Tennessee. Am I entitled to be heard on my credentials or not? Is the state of Tennessee not in the Union? And if not, if Tennessee is a foreign state,

what right does President Johnson, also from Tennessee, have to sit in the White House? Sit down. I won't ask you again. How is it that a clerk, a mere servant of the House, can so arbitrarily exclude members from the floor? You tighten your fist around the gavel in your hand. It disgusts you to see so many Southerners stride into Congress as if the past five years never happened. I am acting in line with my duties as House Clerk. I want to know when the matter of admitting Southern members will be taken up. The matter will be discussed at the proper time, but for now, let me make it clear.

Congress does not recognize the state of Tennessee or any other rebel state. You suppress a smile as Maynard storms out of the chamber, muttering curses under his breath. You strike your gavel, preparing to move on to the election of a speaker. You're in no mood to forgive and forget, or to hand back power to the same men who made war on the United States. With Audible, there's more to imagine when you listen. Whether you listen to stories, motivation, expert advice, any genre you love, you can be inspired to imagine new worlds, new possibilities, new ways of thinking. And Audible makes it easy to be inspired and entertained as a

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You can listen to Kill List and more Exhibit C true crime shows like Morbid early and ad-free right now by joining Wondery Plus. From Wondery, I'm Lindsey Graham, and this is American History Tellers. Our history, your story. In December 1865, as Congress convened for its first session since the end of the Civil War, the question of how and when to readmit the former Confederate states into the Union divided Washington. In the months since the war ended, President Andrew Johnson had taken a lenient approach. He pardoned most former Confederates, allowing new governments to quickly form,

and ordered Black farmers off land they occupied in order to give it back to its former owners. His efforts restored white supremacist state governments to power, which paved the way for discriminatory laws and pervasive violence. In 1866, Republicans in Congress resolved to pass legislation to protect Black rights and curb the power of former rebels. But President Johnson was not about to compromise. He would make every effort to block this agenda. The battle for Reconstruction was about to begin.

This is Episode 2, The Radical Revolution. On December 4, 1865, 55 newly elected congressional representatives and 20 senators arrived in Washington, D.C. from the South, each ready to claim the seats their predecessors had vacated before the start of the Civil War. Among them were four former Confederate generals, five colonels, 58 members of the Confederate Congress, and Alexander Stevens, the former Confederate vice president. But as House Clerk Edward McPherson called the role, he omitted the names of the representatives from the former Confederacy. The Republican caucus had instructed McPherson to reject them. The Southern delegates were furious to be denied their place in Congress,

and so was President Andrew Johnson. In refusing to seat the Southern delegates, Congressional Republicans defied President Johnson, who had announced his hopes that the lawmakers would be allowed to take their seats, bringing their states back into the Union and bringing Reconstruction to a swift end. But many Congressional Republicans were convinced that it was too early to let Southern states govern themselves. Recent elections had returned former rebels to power across the region, and the new state governments had only grudgingly disavowed secession. Many had also passed discriminatory black codes that severely limited rights for black people who faced rampant violence.

Republicans were convinced that despite the end of the war, the spirit of rebellion was alive and well in the South, and that Johnson's Reconstruction policy of re-empowering Southern elites had been a mistake. Johnson still had the support of Northern Democrats, but Republicans outnumbered Democrats in both houses, and they would dictate Congress's handling of Reconstruction. Their actions left no room for doubt that a bitter struggle with the White House was about to begin. Leading the charge from the radical wing of the Republican Party were Thaddeus Stevens and Charles Sumner, who both pushed for aggressive policies toward the South. Stevens was a congressman from Pennsylvania. At 73 years old, he was so frail

that he had to be carried into Congress in a chair. He had a perpetual scowl and wore a thick black wig to disguise his baldness. But despite his poor health, his mind was as sharp as ever. He was known for sarcastic wit and his mastery of political strategy. Massachusetts Senator Charles Sumner led the Radicals in the Senate. He had become a hero for Northern abolitionists in 1856, when a Southern senator savagely attacked him with a cane on the House floor in retaliation for an earlier anti-slavery speech. A decade later, he was still suffering from debilitating pain. Sumner's ego and stubbornness turned off many of his Senate colleagues, but his uncompromising

commitment to Black rights won him the respect of abolitionists and ordinary Black Americans throughout the country. Stevens, Sumner, and other radicals believed that the Civil War had created an opportunity for transformational change. They wanted to build a powerful nation-state out of the ashes of the old and guarantee political rights and economic opportunities for all. As Stevens explained in a speech in September, he intended to revolutionize the South, declaring, The whole fabric of Southern society must be changed, and never can it be done if this opportunity is lost. Without this, this government can never be a true republic. Americans had long feared excessive federal intervention in state affairs, but radicals like Stevens believed that extraordinary times called for extraordinary measures.

They wanted to remake the South by giving freed people a chance to compete in the open labor market, but they felt it could not be accomplished without strong and sustained federal action. As another radical explained, My dream is of a model republic, extending equal protection and rights to all men. The whole land will revive under the magic touch of free labor. Radicals also strongly believed in giving black men the vote, but that position remained unpopular in the wider Republican Party. Even in the North, racism was still common. Only five northern states had recognized black suffrage. But on the opening day of Congress in December 1865,

Stevens introduced a resolution to create a Joint Committee on Reconstruction to help push the radicals' agenda. Lawmakers approved the resolution in a matter of minutes, and over the next several months, the Joint Committee would investigate conditions in the former Confederate states before considering their readmission to the Union. But despite their vocal presence in Congress, most of the radicals' proposals went nowhere. Moderate Republicans were still in the majority, and though they embraced black civil rights,

they mostly rejected support for the black vote. They wanted to challenge Johnson's policies, but they also saw Reconstruction as a practical problem to be solved, not an opportunity to reshape American democracy. But soon, Johnson's hostility to Black civil rights, as well as growing evidence of Southern white intransigence, would push more Republicans into the radical camp. In January, President Johnson fired several Freedmen's Bureau officials who were sympathetic to freed people, including General Rufus Saxton, the Assistant Commissioner for Georgia and South Carolina. Saxton had refused to carry out Johnson's September 1865 order to have land restored to its former owners, and for months, Saxton's defiance had protected

Tunis Campbell's experiment in the Georgia Sea Islands, where hundreds of freed people had planted crops and built communities on land formerly owned by Confederates. Once fired, Saxton was replaced by Davis Tilson, a conservative Democrat from Maine who was far less friendly to black aspirations of land ownership. When Tilerson visited the islands under Campbell's control for an inspection, he was shocked to find that the freedmen were armed. It would not allow any white person to set foot on the islands. Soon, Tillerson had federal troops carry out Johnson's orders, and in January, a contingent of soldiers arrived on St. Catherine's Island to restore property rights to its former owner.

These federal troops forced Campbell's militia to give access to whites, and Tilson soon began forcing Black farmers into labor contracts. Campbell later described this change in policy, writing, Rebels, who before had appeared humble and repentant, now insisted that all colored men and women should sign labor contracts, and when they refused, they would waylay them and beat them. After just eight months, Tunis Campbell's experiment in black self-reliance was over. Imagine it's February 1866 on St. Catherine's Island in Georgia. You recently moved to the island with your wife and two boys after hearing that freed people held their own plots here. You're destitute, and you've come to the local Freeman's Bureau office hoping for help acquiring a plot for your family. You walk into a cramped office where a white man with a stern expression sits behind a desk.

Excuse me, are you Mr. Tilson? Yes, how can I help you? Well, I was told I could come here to get a land grant. I'm afraid you're mistaken. There are no land grants being given out here. What do you mean? Tilson sighs impatiently. There's a new policy. The president has ordered that all land be given back to its former owners. A knot starts to form in your stomach. Tillerson opens a drawer and takes out a piece of paper, covered in writing. Two northerners, a Mr. Winchester and a Mr. Schuyler, have rented the land from Wahlberg. You'd be working for them six days a week. They'd pay me? The terms are simple.

It's a one-year contract. They'll provide all the seed, animals, and tools you need. In exchange for your labor, they'll pay you a share of the crop. They'll give you lodging, and you'll get ample food rations. Twelve quarts of corn and two pounds of bacon per week, not to mention salt and syrup. But we want to work our own land. Binding myself and my family to work for basic food and shelter feels more like slavery than freedom. Tilson only shrugs. This is your best chance. Really, it's your only chance.

At least if you want to put a roof over your head on this island. You feel trapped. You know that whatever this man says, signing a contract with a white planter will mean forfeiting your freedom and your dream of owning land. But you also know that your family is counting on you. What do I sign? Tilson writes your name at the bottom of the contract, then hands you the pen. You take a deep breath and sign an X beside your name. You hope you're doing the right thing by your family

and not just committing yourself to a new form of servitude. Throughout the South in 1866, formerly enslaved people began losing the land that was key to securing their freedom. In 1865, 40,000 freed people occupied 300,000 acres of land in Georgia and South Carolina in an area designated by General William Tecumseh Sherman. By the end of 1866, though, only 1,500 freed people retained their plots, and the promise of 40 acres and a mule was broken. Tens of thousands more freed people were displaced in other southern states. In 1866, the Army evicted most of the 20,000 people settled on confiscated property in southeastern Virginia. In Louisiana, roughly 60,000 acres of land was restored to its former owners. And in Davis Bend, Mississippi, land cultivated by black farmers was

returned to Joseph Davis, brother of Confederate President Jefferson Davis. Some free people tried to resist evictions by arming themselves and barricading plantations. In February, when landowners arrived on Edisto Island to reclaim their land, one black farmer told them, you better go back to Charleston and go work there. If you can do nothing else, you can pick oysters and earn your living as the loyal people have done, by the sweat of their brows.

But eventually, the black residents of Edisto Island would also be forced off the land they occupied. For most black Southerners, they were left with only one choice, sign labor contracts with the men who had once enslaved them. Those white planters wanted a submissive labor force that resembled slavery as closely as possible. One Mississippi planter wrote, Our Negroes will learn that freedom and independence are different things.

A man may be free and yet not independent. The Freedmen's Bureau stepped in as an intermediary, tasked with negotiating labor contracts between freed people and landowners. And in 1866, faced with few alternatives, large numbers of black Southerners reluctantly signed year-long labor contracts with white planters, often their former owners. In exchange for planting and harvesting crops, they received cash, food rations, or a share of the crop. The housing planters offered free people was often former slave cabins or outbuildings. And planters took advantage of the contracts to re-establish control over their laborers. Some contracts prohibited free people

from leaving plantations or entertaining visitors. One South Carolina planter required freed people to obey him in a contract that declared that the laborers must go by his direction the same as in slavery time. But freed people refused to relinquish their independence. Even though they faced limited options, they tried to set their own work pace and resisted performing tasks they disliked. Conflicts over land and labor would continue. But as their avenues to true freedom and autonomy narrowed,

free people began to feel that the promise of reconstruction had already been betrayed. To be continued... that not only is it this wonderful snapshot of the 19th century, but it also has so much resonance today. The vampire doesn't cast a reflection in a mirror. So when we look in the mirror, the only thing we see is our own monstrous abilities. From the host and producer of American History Tellers and History Daily comes the new podcast, The Real History of Dracula. We'll reveal how author Bram Stoker raided ancient folklore,

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In the first months of 1866, radical Republicans began to investigate claims of abuse and terrorism in the post-war South. Congress's Joint Committee on Reconstruction held hearings that offered a startling window into the harsh conditions that ex-Confederates had created on the ground. Freedmen's Bureau agents, Army officers, and freedpeople gave testimony describing violence and injustice against Black people, Northerners, and even loyal Unionist Southerners. In one harrowing story, Army nurse Clara Barton spoke of a visit to Andersonville, Georgia, where she treated a heavily pregnant 18-year-old woman who had been gagged, thrown on her face, and brutally lashed because she was unable to complete her work. A Virginia freedman warned the committee, if Southern representatives were received in Congress, the condition of the freedmen would be very little better than of the slaves. The committee concluded that the reconstructed

Southern governments had failed to keep the peace or protect Black people from violence. The hearings united both radical and moderate Republicans in the belief that it was time for stronger federal intervention in the South. So the Freedmen's Bureau, which Congress had authorized in March of 1865 to last for just a single year, was given more time when in February 1866, both houses of Congress passed the Freedmen's Bureau Bill, extending the life of the Freedmen's Bureau indefinitely and giving it additional funding. But on February 19th of that year, President Andrew Johnson vetoed the bill. In a message to Congress, he called the Freedmen's Bureau an unconstitutional overreach of federal authority, noting that the U.S.

government had never before provided economic relief, established schools, or purchased land for people. He added that the Bureau threatened the character and prospects of free people by allowing them to think that they did not need to work for a living. Johnson also said that because the Southern states had no representation in Congress, it was up to him to represent their interests, as he had been elected by a broad swath of Americans, rather than by voters from a single district. Johnson's veto of the Freedmen's Bureau bill shocked moderate

Republicans, who had believed that the president would be willing to work with them. The rift between Johnson and Congress grew wider, and on February 20, the day after Johnson vetoed the bill, the Senate took a vote to override the veto, but fell just short of the required two-thirds majority. Congress soon acted again, with an even more consequential piece of legislation. In March, both houses passed a landmark civil rights bill defining all Americans as citizens of the United States entitled to equal legal rights regardless of race. The measure gave federal courts the power to enforce those rights. This bill marked an extraordinary expansion in black civil rights

and federal authority. It said nothing about Black suffrage, but by making state-sponsored racial discrimination illegal, it nullified both Southern Black codes as well as discriminatory laws in the North. One senator declared, I admit that this species of legislation is absolutely revolutionary, but are we not in the midst of a revolution? Republicans warned Johnson not to veto this civil rights bill if he expected their continued cooperation. Nevertheless, on March 27, 1866, he did veto it, insisting that lawmakers had no power to legislate the affairs of states that were not represented in Congress. Johnson also drew on some racist ideas to defend

his veto. He warned that the measure would result in the legalization of interracial marriage and argued that it discriminated against European immigrants and native-born whites. This latest veto of Johnson's further outraged moderate Republicans. They realized there was no hope of working with the president. So in early April, they joined their radical colleagues in overriding the veto. Rarely in American history had Congress enacted such a major piece of legislation over a presidential veto. A Republican newspaper summarized the rift in Washington with a headline declaring, The separation complete. But Congress had successfully enacted America's first Civil

Rights Act. Still, many lawmakers feared the law could one day be overturned. So, on April 30th, Republican leaders proposed the 14th Amendment to enshrine the principles of the Civil Rights Act into the Constitution beyond the reach of any presidential veto and shifting political winds. The 14th Amendment established national citizenship that no state could abridge, defining all native-born and naturalized Americans as citizens entitled to equal protection under the law. The amendment did not expand voting rights, but it did offer states an incentive to enfranchise black men or risk having their number of congressional seats reduced. But while Congress debated this 14th Amendment,

violence in Memphis put the national spotlight on Johnson's handling of Reconstruction. Racial tensions had been mounting in Memphis since the end of the Civil War. After Union forces captured the city in 1862, it became a haven for refugee slaves seeking protection from their former owners. The black population there quadrupled, and freed people competed with the city's mostly Irish immigrant working class for housing and jobs. And then after the war, the U.S. Army had black soldiers patrol Memphis. Their presence aroused the resentment of the mostly Irish police force. Police officers hated the sight of armed black men walking the streets, and incidents of police brutality escalated as officers sought to assert their dominance.

But many of these black soldiers, who so riled some in Memphis, mustered out of the army on April 30, 1866. As they waited to receive their discharge pay, many soldiers roamed the city drinking and celebrating their return to civilian life. The next day, a confrontation between black soldiers and white policemen would spark an explosion of racial violence. Imagine it's the afternoon of May 1st, 1866 in Memphis. After two days of rain, the weather is finally pleasant and breezy,

and you and several dozen fellow soldiers in the third-colored heavy artillery are celebrating mustering out of the service. You're gathered on a sidewalk near your barracks, and whiskey is flowing freely. You're about to propose a toast when out of the corner of your eye you see a group of white police officers crossing the road. A short, red-faced man you recognize glares in your direction. You shrug and tip your glass toward the officer. You turn around to your friends behind you. Are you just too brokenhearted that your side lost the war? A cheer for Abe Lincoln. Then you turn back to the police officer.

His face is twisted in disgust. You can feel anger bubbling up in your chest. Leave us alone. We're not causing anyone any trouble. You're causing a disturbance. We have every right to be here and to celebrate. We fought for this country. You square your shoulders and smooth the crease on your navy blue uniform. The officer shakes his head.

I'll never understand why they put you people in uniform. But in case you haven't heard, the war is over and these are our streets, not yours. Not this sidewalk. The south side of the street is beyond city limits. It doesn't matter. We can disperse anyone we see fit. So just go home already. Two of your fellow soldiers step forward to flank you on either side.

One has picked up a large rock and the other is holding a club. You can't make us do anything. And you know it. The policeman shares a nervous glance with the officer beside him. Fear is etched into their faces. It's clear they know they're badly outnumbered. There are dozens more of you than there are of them. So the policeman beckons for his fellow officers to follow him.

Come on, boys. No use standing here arguing. We better get reinforcements. The officers back away and cross the street. But as you turn and look into the eyes of the angry veterans around you, you know this isn't over. After months of conflict with the police, you've all reached your breaking point. On May 1st, 1866, an argument broke out between black troops celebrating their discharge and police officers who ordered them to disperse. After the police retreated, the black veterans began to pursue them.

Several veterans pulled out guns and fired into the air. The panicked policemen then reached for their own weapons, and one police officer accidentally shot himself in the leg. No one else was hurt, but rumors spread that men on both sides were dead. White mobs began to assemble, bent on retaliation. This incident ignited three days of deadly violence. By the time the massacre was over, 46 black people and two white people were dead, and dozens of black homes, schools, and churches were destroyed. In addition, five black women were raped, including Frances Thompson, a formerly enslaved transgender seamstress.

Thompson later testified before Congress about her experience, describing how seven white police officers broke into her house and sexually assaulted her and her friend. The bloodshed in Memphis exposed the violent racism in the South and the limitations of President Johnson's Reconstruction policy. One newspaper declared that the violence had revealed in light as clear as day the demonic spirit of the Southern whites toward the freedmen. And to many Republicans, the violence in Memphis was proof that Southern officials were incapable of maintaining law and

order, and that freed people needed stronger protections than Johnson was willing to give. It also helped strengthen the case for enshrining civil rights protections in the Constitution. On June 13, 1866, Congress overwhelmingly passed the Fourteenth Amendment and sent it to the states for ratification. It would become the most important amendment ever added to the Constitution. By declaring all those born on American soil U.S. citizens, it created a new definition of citizenship. It introduced the idea of equality into the Constitution by guaranteeing all citizens due process and equal protection under the law. In the decades to come, it would be cited in more Supreme Court cases than any other constitutional amendment. But President Johnson denounced the 14th Amendment and urged states not to ratify it.

But radicals had already won a major victory in securing broad congressional support for a key piece of their agenda. But even with the amendment's passage, the battle between Congress and the White House continued. In July, when lawmakers passed a new Freedmen's Bureau bill over Johnson's veto, Congress adjourned at the end of the month with two remaining issues still unsettled, black suffrage and requirements for how Southern states would be readmitted to the Union. But outside the halls of Congress, the bitter debate over those issues would lead to more violence. On July 30, 1866, radical Republicans in New Orleans staged a convention to discuss enfranchising Black men. A mob, mostly made up of Confederate veterans, arrived on the scene and attacked white radical delegates and their Black supporters,

chasing them out of the convention hall and murdering them in the streets. Men were killed as they kneeled down and prayed for mercy, and dead bodies were stabbed and mutilated. By the time federal troops arrived, somewhere between 50 and 150 black residents were killed, many of them war veterans. Even more were wounded. General Philip Sheridan served as military governor of Louisiana and Texas,

and he declared the violence an absolute massacre by the police, a murder which the mayor and police of the city perpetrated without the shadow of necessity. To many black Americans, it seemed the Civil War was still being waged, and Johnson's leniency toward the South was to blame. The massacre in New Orleans arose directly out of tensions over Johnson's Reconstruction policy. And Southern violence gave credence to the Republican argument that stronger federal intervention was needed to protect the fruits of their hard-fought victory in the war. It also meant that the looming midterm elections would become a referendum on Johnson's policies. So soon, voters would head to the polls

and decide the future of Reconstruction. 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 reach 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 Plus. Join Wondery Plus in the Wondery app, Apple Podcasts, or Spotify. 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, and the ideas that transform the way we live our lives. In our latest series, a young refugee fleeing the Nazis arrives in Britain determined to make something of his life. Taking the name Robert Maxwell, he builds a publishing and newspaper

empire that spans the globe. But ambition eventually curdles into desperation, and Robert's determination to succeed turns into a willingness to do anything to get ahead. Follow Business Movers wherever you get your podcasts. You can listen ad-free on the Amazon Music or Wondery app. In August 1866, 7,000 supporters of President Andrew Johnson gathered in Philadelphia for the National Union Convention. President Lincoln had adapted the banner of the National Union Party for the 1864 election when he reached across party lines and chose Johnson, a Tennessee Democrat, as his running mate. Two years later, Johnson resurrected the name as the midterm elections approached.

He hoped to forge a coalition of Democrats and conservative Republicans that could win control of Congress or at least gain enough seats to prevent overrides of his vetoes. The National Union Convention praised President Johnson, attacked the Radical Republicans, and encouraged voters to elect candidates who supported the immediate readmission of all former Confederate states. But attempts to formalize a new party failed. Democrats and conservative Republicans could find little to agree on beside their opposition to the Radicals and Congress. Still, Johnson was determined to build support for his Reconstruction policies in advance of the midterms. So late in the summer, he barnstormed across the North on an 18-day whistle-stop tour known

as his Swing Around the Circle. Political campaigning like this was largely unprecedented for sitting presidents, and many critics declared the tour beneath the office. But Johnson had built his career on the stump, and he was certain that he could persuade voters if he spoke to them directly. To help draw crowds, he brought with him an entourage of Civil War heroes, including General Ulysses S. Grant. And at first, Johnson was well-received. Speaking before crowds in Baltimore, Philadelphia, and New York, he delivered rehearsed speeches recounting his rise from tailor to president and attacking radical Republicans for trying to sow conflict.

But when Johnson entered the radical strongholds of the Midwest, he crumpled before hostile crowds. On September 3rd, he traded insults with hecklers in Cleveland. A man cried out, Hang Jeff Davis! And Johnson fired back, Why don't you hang Thad Stevens and Wendell Phillips? Referring to a radical congressman and a leading abolitionist.

When he walked off the podium, a supporter advised him to try to maintain his dignity. And Johnson replied, I don't care about my dignity. This remark earned him ridicule in newspapers across the country. And Johnson's temper continued to fester. In St. Louis, he accused radical Republicans of inciting the New Orleans Massacre themselves. He compared himself to Jesus while painting his Republican opponents as Judas's. Johnson even suggested that God had removed Lincoln so he could inherit the presidency.

The Atlantic Monthly called Johnson egotistic to the point of mental disease. Even Johnson's supporters were embarrassed. A former Georgia governor concluded that Johnson had sacrificed the moral power of his position. Ulysses S. Grant was so mortified by the president's behavior that he refused to join him on the podium. In a letter to his wife, Grant called Johnson's stump speeches a national disgrace. In the end, the swing around the circle tour was an unmitigated disaster. Johnson's antics alienated voters, and Republican politicians exploited the backlash for their own campaigns. But more than this or any other issue, Republicans

made ratification of the 14th Amendment the central focus of the election. And they were right to do so. When Americans went to the polls in November, Republicans captured a sweeping victory. They won three-quarters of the seats in both houses of Congress, maintaining enough to override any presidential veto. With their massive, veto-proof majority, Republicans prepared to wrest control of Reconstruction from the hands of President Johnson and the Southern governments he supported. Between October 1866 and January 1867, ten Southern legislatures followed Johnson's direction

and overwhelmingly rejected the Fourteenth Amendment. To become law, the amendment would need at least some Southern approval, but so far only Tennessee had ratified it and in so doing earned readmission to the Union. But this continued Southern intransigence only convinced more Republicans to accept the radical view that the South needed to be brought to heel and rebuilt from the ground up. Moderate Congressman and future President James Garfield explained, It is now our turn to act. Southerners would not cooperate in rebuilding what they destroyed.

We must remove the rubbish and rebuild from the bottom. We must compel obedience to the Union, but protection for its humblest citizen would be difficult without the vote. That winter momentum began to grow for black suffrage. Frederick Douglass led the fight, delivering speeches across the North. In an article published in the influential Atlantic Monthly, he addressed Congress directly, insisting that the nation's future peace and stability depended on giving black men access to the ballot. He wrote, The destiny of unborn and unnumbered generations is in your hands as

you members of the 39th Congress decide will the country be peaceful, united, and happy, or trouble divided and miserable? In January 1867, Congress extended the vote to black men in Washington, D.C., and the Western Territories. Soon

after, Republicans began hammering out their own Reconstruction plan, and in February, the Joint Committee on Reconstruction approved a bill to impose military rule on the South. The bill quickly passed the House, but when it arrived in the Senate, debate between moderate and radical Republicans over extending suffrage to Southern Black men threatened to derail his passage. Imagine it's February 17th, 1867, in Washington, D.C. You're a Republican senator from New York.

You stifle a yawn as you walk out of your Senate office, heading off to your fourth meeting of the day. But as you spot Charles Sumner barreling down the hallway, you avert your gaze and prepare to turn around. You don't have time for him, but it's too late. He's already spotted you. Senator, I'm so glad I didn't miss you. You take a deep breath, preparing to be lectured. Good evening, Senator. I've just met with our committee recommending changes to the House Reconstruction Bill. Despite my best efforts, the other members refused to mandate black suffrage as a condition for readmitting the Southern states.

That must have been disappointing. We'll just have to do without. You take a step to the right to go around Sumner, but he takes a step to block your path. Despite lingering injuries from his infamous caning in the Senate chamber, he's surprisingly agile. I haven't given up the fight. I'm going to put the question before the entire caucus.

I want you to join me in overturning the committee's decision. Isn't it enough that we force the new governments to ratify the 14th Amendment? Sure, it doesn't require black suffrage, but it does incentivize them to give the freedmen the vote or face losing some of their seats in Congress. Sumner frowns. No, the question of black suffrage must be settled. Without the right to vote, there is no real freedom. I don't know. In New York, we don't give all black men the right to vote, and you're proposing enfranchising an entire population of freed people, the vast majority of whom can't even read? Sumner shakes his head in frustration and pulls a piece of

paper out of his suit pocket. He waves it in your face. See this? It's from a Freedmen's Bureau agent. He describes how black people are constant victims of terrorism. He says the spirit of rebellion is fiercer than it was in the middle of 1861. Don't you see? The time has come for drastic action. I won't dispute. The news out of the South has been appalling. So, can I count on your vote? With a sigh, you nod, and a smile spreads over Sumner's face.

Despite your doubts about the suffrage measure, you figure the sooner loyal electorates are established and new governments are created, the sooner the federal government can stop interfering in the South. When the House's military reconstruction bill entered the Senate, Republicans created a committee to lay down conditions for states to be readmitted. They decided against forcing Southern states to include black male suffrage in their new state constitutions. But Senator Charles Sumner was convinced that the South could only be reconstructed if black men were given the vote. He took his argument to the Senate floor, declaring that if the Senate did not settle the question of black suffrage,

every state and village between here and the Rio Grande would be agitated by it. Sumner managed to convince enough of his fellow senators to reverse course and add black male suffrage to the bill. One radical senator declared, This is the greatest vote that has ever been taken on this continent. Sumner was thrilled with his triumph. In just one year, the radical position had been pushed into the mainstream by white Southern defiance, President Johnson's obstinacy, and the tenacity of Black Americans and their political allies. On March 2, 1867, both houses of Congress passed

the first of four Reconstruction Acts over Johnson's veto. In the bill's final form, Congress divided the South into five military districts, putting the Army in charge of enforcing the law. At the time, only a skeleton military force remained in the South. But soon, 20,000 troops would be deployed across the region. It was their job to police the South and protect the rights of freed people. They would occupy the southern states until new governments could be created. The Reconstruction Act also directed Army officers to register voters so they could elect delegates to new constitutional conventions. The law enfranchised nearly all men, regardless

of race, to vote in those elections. Only one group was excluded. Any former U.S. government official who had sworn their loyalty to the United States before the war then broke that oath by aiding the Confederate rebellion. Republicans wanted to exclude these men out of the fear that they would obstruct Reconstruction and because they wanted to ensure the dominance of the Republican Party in the South. Meanwhile, Congress also laid down stringent conditions for readmission to the Union. States would have to ratify the 14th Amendment, and black men, the vast majority of them former slaves, would be given the right to vote and run for office.

Only when those two conditions were met would the state be declared reconstructed, and its newly elected representatives allowed to take their seats in Congress. The Reconstruction Act set the stage for an unprecedented experiment in interracial democracy. One Wisconsin senator declared, We have cut loose from the whole dead past and have cast our anchor out a hundred years. Most white Southerners were horrified, while Black Southerners were ready to seize the moment and claim their right to the ballot box. Soon they would mobilize to gain political power

and finally take control of their destiny. From Wondery, this is Episode 2 of our six-part series Reconstruction from American History Tellers. In the next episode, all across the South, legions of freed people register to vote, head to the polls, and even run for elected office. Meanwhile, the war between the White House

and Congress escalates as Andrew Johnson faces the prospect of becoming the first American president to be impeached. 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. Produced by Alita Rozanski. Our production coordinators are Desi Blaylock and Christian Banas.

Managing producer is Matt Gant. Senior producer, Andy Herman. Executive producers, Jenny Lauer-Beckman and Marsha Louis for Wondery. In a quiet suburb, a community is shattered by the death of a beloved wife and mother. But this tragic loss of life quickly turns into something even darker. Her husband had tried to hire a hitman on the dark web to kill her. And she wasn't the only target. Because buried in the depths of the internet is The Kill List, a cache of chilling documents containing names, photos, addresses,

and specific instructions for people's murders This podcast is the true story of how I ended up in a race against time to warn those who lives were in danger and it turns out convincing a total stranger someone wants them dead

is not easy Follow Kill List on the Wondery app or wherever you get your podcasts You can listen to Kill List and more Exondery app or wherever you get your podcasts. You can listen to Kill List and more Exhibit C True Crime shows like Morbid early and ad-free

right now by joining Wondery Plus. Check out Exhibit C in the Wondery app for all your True Crime listening.