American History Tellers - The Age of Jackson | King Mob | 3

Episode Date: April 11, 2018

From the beginning, Jackson's administration was riddled with controversy. Citizens mobbed the White House on inauguration day, breaking furniture and fine china. They were only lured out with alcohol. And then there was the "Petticoat Affair." His Secretary of War, John Henry Eaton, was the ideal candidate for what we now call the Secretary of State, but there was one small problem... the most beautiful woman in Washington. John was having an affair with a sailor's wife which started rumors around town... that was nothing compared to the firestorm of gossip around town after he married her just after her husband's tragic death at sea. There was widespread chaos and controversy and Jackson's term was just getting started.Support 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. It's Wednesday, March 4th, 1829. Imagine you're standing in the kitchen of the White House. The place is bustling with activity as the service staff frantically makes their preparations. Today is no ordinary day. After all, the staff is about to meet their new boss, and the country is about to meet its new president. As the White House steward, you're the man in charge. It's your duty to ensure the president's guests have everything they need, fine wine, exquisite cuisine, and the best service you and your staff can muster.

This is no run-of-the-mill reception. This is the inauguration of Andrew Jackson. A senior member of your staff looks worried. I thought these receptions were supposed to be private, sir. It's tradition. Not anymore. Mr. Jackson wants the doors of the White House open to the people. How many guests are we expecting, sir? Don't worry about the guests. Just worry about doing your job. But you are worried about the guests. For a week now, Jackson supporters from all over the country have been pouring into Washington, traveling hundreds of miles just to get a glimpse of the hero of New Orleans. Rumors abound. Some say this will be the biggest inauguration in the history of the United States.

No matter the size, though, it's your job to be ready. So you've instructed your staff to prepare for a sizable crowd. The tables are set, sir. We are ready. You survey the scene. The spread in the common area is perfectly arranged. Baskets of freshly baked bread, platters of carved meat, cakes, desserts, fruit,

and most importantly, bowls of whiskey punch. You relax a bit. You're ready for this, and so is your staff. But just as you're about to breathe a sigh of relief, sir, there's something you need to see. When you glance out a window overlooking Pennsylvania Avenue, your eyes go wide. Your mouth falls open. Thousands, maybe tens of thousands of people are following the president as he rides toward the White House on a white horse. The mob begins pouring in through the front door, climbing in through windows, desperate to shake hands with old Hickory himself.

Excitable frontiersmen devour the beautiful spread. Farmers spill punch on the floor and mash food into the carpet with their heels. Tables are flipped over. Chairs are knocked to the floor. You wince as men climb on the furniture, their muddy boots smearing the upholstery and destroying the fine linen tablecloths. But as the chaos mounts, it's not just the furniture you're worried about.

It's the president. Jackson is cornered, his back literally against a wall, the crowd pressing in on him. The only thing standing between the president and this drunken mob is a small team of guards desperately pushing back against the advancing crowd. We have to get these people outside. But how, sir? More and more people are arriving every minute. That's when it hits you. There's only one surefire strategy to capture the attention of a mob. Only one way to induce this crowd of ruffians to leave the White House.

Alcohol. You order your staff to run to the ice house out back and mix the remainder of the punch and whiskey into several large wash bins. They drag the tubs to the front lawn of the White House, and the plan works. The thirsty crowd follows you outside. The whiskey doesn't last long, just long enough for you to order the staff to close the White House doors and lock them shut. The man in this story is Antoine Michael Justa, a Belgian valet under President John Quincy Adams. It was his job to arrange Jackson's inauguration reception. Thanks to his quick thinking, there were no casualties to speak of other than fine china. That day, Andrew Jackson stood on the east portico of the Capitol building. He placed his hand on the Bible, swore the oath, and became the seventh president of the United States. He addressed the crowd, calling them his fellow citizens.

He didn't wear a top hat. A signal to the crowd, he was one of them. His attire was as plain as the words of his speech. As long as our government is administered for the good of the people and is regulated by their will, it is worth defending. A spectator present that day later said, The peal of shouting that arose rent the air and seemed to shake the very ground. For Jackson supporters, the inauguration was a triumph. At long last, the reins of power in Washington had been wrenched from the hands of the elite and returned to the people. But for the political establishment

and for Jackson's enemies, the inaugural ball was an omen, a foreboding sign of the darkness yet to come. For them, the age of the statesman was over. The era of mob rule had arrived. Andrew Jackson was known by many names, Old Hickory, General, and the Hero of New Orleans. But the events of his inaugural ball earned him a new moniker, King Mob. From Wondery 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 Jinks Jenkins. Follow Criminal Attorney on the Wondery app or wherever you get your podcasts. From the team behind American History Tellers comes a new book, The Hidden History of the White House. Each chapter will bring you inside the fierce power struggles, intimate moments, and shocking scandals that shaped our nation. From the War of 1812 to Watergate, available now wherever you get your books.

From Wondery, this is American History Tellers. Our history, your story. I'm Lindsey Graham. We're continuing American History Tellers with a six-episode series, The Age of Jackson. In the last episode, Andrew Jackson won the election of 1828, poised to become the seventh president of the United States. In this episode, we'll cover his controversial first term in office, beginning with his inauguration. This is Episode 3, King Mob. From the beginning, Jackson's administration was riddled with controversy, thanks in no small part to his choice of Secretary of War, the cabinet position that today we call the Secretary of Defense. Jackson's man for the job? John Henry Eaton. A Tennessee man and former major in the Tennessee militia, Jackson trusted Eaton like a son.

For Jackson, Eaton was the ideal candidate for Secretary of War. But there was one small problem. Her name was Peggy. Margaret Peggy O'Neill was one of the most beautiful women in Washington, and she knew it, too. In her autobiography, she declared with pride, When I was still in pantalets and rolling hoops with other girls, I had the attentions of men, young and old, enough to turn a girl's head. At the age of 16, Peggy had married a sailor named John Timberlake,

a renowned drunk who spent most of his time at sea. Peggy lived at home with her parents, raised their two children, and worked as a barmaid at her father's tavern. There, she charmed the tavern's many guests, including a wealthy widower and newly elected United States Senator named John Henry Eaton. While Timberlake was out at sea, Eaton would often escort Peggy to social functions and high society events. Over the next ten years, their friendship was the source of much gossip. In 1828, though, her husband died at sea. Rumors began that Timberlake killed himself because his wife was having an affair.

John and Peggy claimed that they were just friends, but that didn't hold much water after Eaton asked Peggy for her hand in marriage. Eaton worried about the timing of the wedding. He worried that their marriage might give the Washington elite's political ammunition to use against him. But they were in love. On January 1, 1829, John and Peggy tied the knot, ignoring the customary mourning period and setting off a firestorm of gossip in Washington. Lewis Maclean, a prominent lawyer and politician, reacted,

Eaton has just married his mistress and the mistress of 11 dozen others. So when Jackson nominated Eaton for Secretary of War, some traditionalists warned him that Washington society would never accept Peggy. Jackson reacted furiously. Do you suppose that I have been sent here by the people to consult with the ladies of Washington as to the proper persons to compose my cabinet? So Jackson ignored their warnings, and all hell was about to break loose. Andrew Jackson was no stranger to warfare, but the Petticoat Affair, also known as the Eaton Affair, was a war on a different front. He found his administration besieged by gossip and innuendo. Floride Calhoun, the wife of Vice President John C. Calhoun,

led the other cabinet members' wives in a campaign to humiliate Peggy, shunning the Eatons in public, refusing to invite them over or have them at social events. Jackson was enraged. Remember, Jackson had just lost his own wife, Rachel, a few months earlier, and he blamed the elites of Washington, women just like John Calhoun's wife, Fleuride, and her insatiable appetite for gossip for Rachel's passing. Perhaps Jackson wanted revenge for Rachel's death,

or perhaps he simply could not abide the protocol and convention of Washington society. Either way, Jackson was determined to defend Peggy, and so, as he'd done many times before, old Hickory waged war. His strategy was a full frontal assault. He attempted to force Eaton's new wife on Washington, pushing the women of the elite to visit Peggy at home, as was custom of polite society. Former President John Quincy Adams observed in his diary that the cabinet families gave large dinner parties to which Mrs. Eaton is not invited. On the other hand, the president makes her doubly conspicuous by an over-display of notice. At the last drawing room, she had a crowd gathered around her and was

made the public gaze. Another eyewitness describes Jackson's treatment of the unofficial First Lady. Fifty guests, one hundred candles, and lamps, silver plate of every description, and for a queen, Peggy O'Neill. Was this crusade worth it? It came at tremendous political cost. Jackson's cabinet was frozen and polarized over Eaton's appointment. It eclipsed the actual business of governing. He simply could not get anything done. Benjamin Williams Crown and Shield, former Secretary of the Navy under President Monroe, said it best, you ask how are things in Washington? And I reply, perhaps the strangest in the world, because for the first time, I believe the destiny of the nation hangs on a woman's favor. With his cabinet paralyzed and his prospects for

setting his presidential agenda in great jeopardy, Jackson was livid. But the struggle over decorum and propriety quickly gave way to a real war over policy. It's the end of April 1829, a few weeks after President Jackson's wild inauguration. The sun is rising on your South Carolina plantation. You're the plantation owner. The slaves you own are coming out of their living quarters to the cotton fields as you arrive. You walk up to your overseer, a bulky man with ruddy cheeks, red hair, and a hanged dog expression. He sees you coming. Morning, sir. The overseer is about bulky man with ruddy cheeks, red hair, and a hangdog expression. He sees you coming.

Morning, sir. The overseer is about to lead his hands, the slaves you own, to an empty field on the other side of the property. Spring is cotton planting season. They've spent the better part of the past few days turning over the soil. That's what they do every spring. But now, the plan has to change. We're not going to be planting on that field no more. I know you and your boys have been working hard out there. Yes, sir. The overseer holds up his hand to the slaves. The dozen black men do as he says and stop. They have no choice. They await further instructions. We already finished the rest of the field, sir. I know. You don't owe him an explanation, but maybe he's heard the rumors. If we plant as much as we did last year, I could be ruined. I'll have to sell everything.

I thought we had a good crop last year. The crop was good, but the market's gone. You heard about this new tariff, the tariff of abominations. Abominations is right. The cotton's going to be too expensive for the Brits to buy, so I'm afraid to produce too much of it. So we're leaving that field foul. The overseer is surprised. But Jackson's on our side. Old Hickory will come

through for the South. You pull a loosely bound sheaf of papers out of your satchel. Here, read this. You hand him the papers, but he just looks down without taking them. Can't read, sir. Oh, of course. Well, this pamphlet's called The South Carolina Exposition and Protest. It says that if the North passes a law the South doesn't like, then we have the right not to follow it. Who wrote it? Doesn't say on here, but everyone knows who it is. The pamphlet In Your Hands is a diatribe against the tariff law.

Tariffs that most people think are good for the Northern states and bad for the South. It was published anonymously, but word got out soon after it was published who the author was. The anonymous writer was none other than John Calhoun, the man who had just become vice president. By the time Andrew Jackson became president in 1829, South Carolina was all but ready to secede over the issue of tariffs, an issue that laid bare some deep-rooted tensions in America during the age of Jackson. On its surface, the tariff

question was about the friction between manufacturing and an agricultural economy. At the heart of this debate, the issue of slavery. In the 1820s, the economy had hit an economic downturn and no state suffered worse than South Carolina. American manufacturers could not compete with low-priced imported goods from foreign countries, especially Great Britain. Many Americans feared that the status quo would lead to a form of economic subjugation to their former masters, the Brits. In May of 1828, a little less than a year before Jackson assumed the presidency, Congress had passed a highly protective tariff. This was basically a huge tax slapped on imported goods that made them much more expensive. Supporters of this protectionism, men like Senator Henry Clay of Kentucky, claimed the tariff of 1828 would make American-made goods more competitive.

He claimed it would boost the northern manufacturing industry and the agricultural economy. Its official name was unremarkable. It was called the Tariff of 1828. Its southern detractors called it something else, the Tariff of Abominations. The economy of the South was dominated by agriculture and relied on imported goods or goods from the North. Because of the tariff, the price of these goods went up, raising the cost of living. And because the tariff hit the British exporters hard, there was less demand for Southern agricultural products like cotton. It was Jackson's vice president, John C. Calhoun, a South Carolina native and ardent supporter of slavery who proved to be South Carolina's greatest champion against the tariffs. Calhoun had a unique answer for the tariff question, nullification. It was an argument that went back to the very founding of the country. According to Calhoun, the U.S. Constitution had been a contract made

between independent and sovereign states. In the case of a disagreement, like one, say, over the imposition of tariffs, the states had the right to call a convention and nullify the enforceability of a law within its borders. Nullification brought two competing and incompatible versions of republicanism into conflict with each other. National sovereignty versus states' rights. How did Birkenstocks go from a German cobbler's passion project 250 years ago to the Barbie movie today? Who created that bottle of red Sriracha with a green top that's permanently living in your fridge? Did you know that the Air Jordans were initially banned by the NBA? We'll explore all that and more in The Best Idea Yet, a brand new podcast from Wondery and T-Boy.

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that are gonna blow up your group chat. Jack, Nintendo, Super Mario Brothers, best-selling video game of all time. How'd they do it? Nintendo never fires anyone. Ever. Follow The Best Idea Yet on the Wondery app or wherever you get your podcasts. You can listen to The Best Idea Yet early and ad-free right

now by joining Wondery Plus. For more than two centuries, the White House has been the stage for some of the most dramatic scenes in American history. Inspired by the hit podcast American History Tellers, Wondery and William Morrow present the new book, The Hidden History of the White House. Each chapter will bring you inside the fierce power struggles, the world-altering decisions, and shocking scandals that have shaped our nation. You'll be there when the very foundations of the White House are laid in 1792,

and you'll watch as the British burn it down in 1814. Then you'll hear the intimate conversations between FDR and Winston Churchill as they make plans to defeat Nazi forces in 1941. And you'll be in the Situation Room when President Barack Obama approves the raid to bring down the most infamous terrorist in American history. Order The Hidden History of the White House now in hardcover or digital edition, wherever you get your books. On January 19th, 1830, the U.S. senators gathered in the crowded, frigid Senate chamber. A fiery debate is raging on the floor. The issue at hand is tariffs. On one

side of the argument is Senator Daniel Webster of Massachusetts. On the other, Senator Robert Hain of South Carolina. Hain speaks first. Sir, I am one of those who believe that the very life of our system is the independence of the states. Webster offers a rebuttal. I wish to see no new powers drawn to the general government. But I confess, I rejoice in whatever tends to strengthen the bond that unites us and encourages the hope that our union may be perpetual. As the argument heats up, Hain rails against tariffs and accuses his political opponents of conspiring to destroy the slave economy in the South. Senator Webster fires back, championing tariffs and mocking

South Carolina's understanding of the Constitution. But he doesn't stop there. Webster lambasts the institution of slavery and questions its very existence in a free society. The gauntlet has been thrown. Hayne looks to the president of the Senate, fellow South Carolinian John C. Calhoun. It's almost as if he's silently asking for permission. From his chair on the Senate floor, Calhoun gives an approving nod. The game is on. If slavery be an evil, we of the present day found it ready-made to our hands. We met it as a practical question of obligation and duty. We found that we had to deal with a people whose physical, moral, and intellectual habits and character

totally disqualified them from the enjoyment of the blessings of freedom. We could not send them back to the shores from whence their fathers had been taken. Their numbers forbade the thought. Even if we did not know that their condition here is infinitely preferable to what it possibly could be among the barren sands and savage tribes of Africa. Pro-slavery senators tap their canes, wrap their knuckles, and cry out in agreement. And then Daniel Webster rises to make his famous reply. The people's constitution, the people's government,

made for the people, made by the people, and answerable to the people. When my eyes shall be turned to behold for the last time the sun in heaven, let their last lingering glance behold the last time the sun in heaven, let their last lingering glance behold the gorgeous ensign of the republic, not erased or polluted, nor bearing for its motto liberty first and union afterwards, but everywhere spread all over in characters that other sentiment. Dear to every true American heart, liberty and union now and, one and inseparable. Senators leap to their feet as the chamber erupts in applause.

Webster's second reply to Hayne was printed in the newspapers and circulated more widely than any speech in previous history. To this day, it's often considered the most famous speech ever given on the floor of the U.S. Senate. But the Haynes-Webster debate, as it came to be known, settled nothing. These two men had identified competing visions of the American Republic. They were mutually exclusive. Two visions that would collide some 30 years later when the first shot was fired at Fort Sumter, marking the outset of the Civil War. Opposition to the tariff was especially strong in South Carolina. South Carolina was the only state in the Union with a majority of the Civil War. Opposition to the tariff was especially strong in South Carolina. South Carolina was the only state in the Union with a majority of the population enslaved. Anything that threatened

the slave economy was viewed as a threat. Liberty for whites, in their view, depended on the strength of the southern agricultural economy, and that depended on the complete subjugation of blacks. Amidst this heated debate, the question on all of Washington's mind was, on this issue of nullification, where does President Jackson stand? It's April 13th, 1830, and at the Indian Queen Tavern in Washington City, a birthday celebration is in full swing. This is an annual dinner to commemorate the founder of the Democratic Republican Party, the late Thomas Jefferson. It's quite a to-do. The guests are dressed to the nines.

Senator Robert Hain of South Carolina concludes his opening remarks with a toast. To the union of the states and the sovereignty of the states. On the surface, the guests at the dinner seem cheerful, but the issue of nullification has everyone on edge. Among those gathered, there is a sharp divide. Southerners at the table at the dinner seem cheerful, but the issue of nullification has everyone on edge. Among those gathered, there is a sharp divide. Southerners at the table fear the North is challenging the sovereignty of the states, threatening the Southern economy. His duty done, Senator Hale takes a seat to raucous applause and cheers. And then suddenly, a hush falls over the crowd as Andrew Jackson rises from his chair. Up till now, the president has been silent on the issue of nullification. He from his chair. Up till now, the president has been silent on the issue of

nullification. He raises his glass. Our union, it must be preserved. Our union, this is not the endorsement the Southerners in the room were hoping for. His brief toast done, the president returns to his chair, glaring at a man sitting across the room, Vice President John C. Calhoun. It's his turn to give a toast next. The room is quiet. Calhoun rises to his feet. He raises his glass, his hand shaking, his eyes filled with emotion. He musters a reply. The Union, next to our liberty, the most dear. May we always remember that it can only be preserved by respecting the rights of the states and by distributing equally the benefits and the burdens of the union. The crowd erupts with approval.

Many cheer. Others leap to their feet. But not Andrew Jackson. He sits in silence, staring down Calhoun. This Jefferson birthday celebration was designed to rally support for the South's position on nullification. They assumed their fearless leader would be with them. By the end of the evening, though, one thing was very clear. If the South was going to wage war, they would be doing it without General Jackson. The hero of New Orleans had chosen the Union

over the states. Jackson, a Southern populist, is often associated with states' rights, but at his core, Jackson was a nationalist, a true believer in the federal Union. In his mind, nullification was a dangerous step on a very slippery slope, the beginning of the end of the United States. By the next year, the spring of 1831, Andrew Jackson's administration was at loggerheads. Deep divisions in his cabinet over the issue of nullification, on top of the drama of the Petticoat Affair, had brought his presidency to a standstill. In this desperate moment, Secretary of State Martin Van Buren stepped onto the scene with a dramatic solution,

purging the cabinet. Van Buren would resign, and others, like John Henry Eaton, would follow suit. Jackson's personal affection for his Secretary of War had prevented him from firing Eaton or asking for his resignation. But with this plan, the removal of John Eaton and his wife Peggy would be a non-issue. His resignation would just be one of many. Any shame or scandal would be lost in the flood of people leaving the cabinet. Jackson seized on Van Buren's scheme, cleaning house and replacing his entire cabinet with loyalists. As thanks, he gave Van Buren a prestigious diplomatic appointment to Great Britain. The Senate, though, was not having it.

Van Buren's ability to orchestrate a mass political exodus at the highest levels of government unnerved many of the senators. They responded by overriding the president and killing Van Buren's diplomatic mission on the Senate floor. The man who cast the deciding vote? Vice President John C. Calhoun. Calhoun's meddling, and that of his wife, Fleuride, infuriated Jackson. He turned the tables, though, snubbing Calhoun and selecting a new running mate for his 1832 re-election campaign, Martin Van Buren. Calhoun and the people of South Carolina were enraged. Congress was still at war over the issue of nullification, and the ousting of Calhoun did not help. When Congress passed another tariff act in 1832,

the crisis would reach its peak. This tariff act of 1832 was largely written by Jackson's former presidential rival, John Quincy Adams. It was supposed to be a compromise, dialing back the tariffs on foreign imports in an attempt to satisfy nullifiers. It wasn't enough for many in the South, and they urged Jackson, a fellow Southerner, to veto it. Still, when the bill landed on Jackson's desk, he defied the opposition and signed it into law. The response from South Carolina was aggressive. They put John Calhoun's proposal into action. A state convention was called, declaring the Tariff Acts of 1828 and 1832 null and void, in effect effect defying the federal government.

The message to the Union was clear. If the federal government tried to use force to execute its law, South Carolina would secede from the Union, take up arms, and fight for its liberty. Calhoun, already dejected and embittered, resigned his post as vice president and returned to his seat in the U.S. Senate to defend South Carolina's position. Jackson was beyond angry. The Constitution of the United States forms a government, not a league. The power to annul a law of the United States assumed by one state is incompatible with the existence of the Union, contradicted expressly by the letter of the Constitution, unauthorized by its spirit,

inconsistent with every principle on which it was founded, and destructive of the great object for which it was formed. Disunion by armed forces is treason. Jackson appealed to the legislature, asking Congress to pass a force bill, granting him the authority to use military force to collect revenue from the tariff. In response, a newspaper that supported Calhoun's side wrote, it is not now, whatever it may have heretofore have been, a doubtful question of political economy. It is now a question of right on one side and power on the other. Most Southern politicians rejected South Carolina's radical course of action,

but they were equally concerned with Jackson's force bill. One prominent Virginian told a reporter, the executive can never march troops against South Carolina through eastern Virginia, but over our dead bodies. Jackson's hold on a southern political coalition was beginning to slip. The prospect of a civil war was suddenly very real. Ironically, it was the infamous protectionist Henry Clay who would intervene and save the day. The man known as the Great Compromiser would again live up to his name. Clay introduced a deal that began by lowering the tariff gradually, giving manufacturers time to adjust, but ultimately phasing out protection entirely by 1842. The people of South Carolina

were satisfied, but Jackson got something he wanted too, the force bill. If South Carolina attempted to secede, Jackson was now authorized to use the military to prevent it. The compromise stopped South Carolina's secession, but it was really just a band-aid. The underlying tensions behind the crisis were far from resolved. After the compromise, Jackson himself reflected, the tariff was only a pretext, and disunion and Southern Confederacy the real object. The next pretext would be the Negro, or slavery, question. Jackson succeeded in avoiding a potential civil war, but the next front in the battle of his presidency was re-election. To win that fight,

Jackson would have to face down some of the most powerful institutions in the history of America, the banks. 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 whose lives were in danger. And it turns out, convincing a total stranger someone wants them dead is not easy.

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with exclusive seasons that you won't find anywhere else. And on Wondery Plus, you can binge entire new seasons before they're publicly available. Start your free trial of Wondery Plus in the Wondery app, Apple Podcasts, or Spotify to start listening today and uncover the real story behind America's most notorious scandals. The election of 1832 pitted Andrew Jackson and his former Secretary of State, Martin Van Buren, against Senator Henry Clay of Kentucky and Congressman John Sargent of Pennsylvania. On the surface, Jackson and Clay were not so different. Both were Southerners, both owned slaves, and both shared a belief in American exceptionalism, the idea that the United States was destined for economic and political greatness.

But in reality, the difference between these two candidates was stark. Jackson was a rugged frontiersman, drawing support from white farmers. Clay, the great compromiser, was the epitome of a statesman and a strident supporter of U.S. industry. Jackson feared that the growing wealth and power of big business would threaten the freedom and independence of ordinary citizens. Clay, on the other hand, was not a populist. He had almost the opposite worry, that the uninformed opinions of ordinary voters would stifle American prosperity. It was also worth noting that Jackson despised Clay.

After all, this was the man who, in his view, had conspired with John Quincy Adams in their corrupt bargain to steal the presidency in 1824. But this time around, Jackson had the White House, and he was hell-bent on keeping clay out of it. If there was one single issue that clearly divided the two candidates, it was the Second Bank of the United States. Jackson was deeply suspicious of banking. In his mind, the only honest way to make money was through labor. To Jackson, concepts like speculation and paper money were just unfair and plain anti-American. Clay, on the other hand, passionately supported a national banking system. The bank was foundational to his vision of a prosperous

industrial America. The Second Bank of the United States was chartered in 1816 under President James Monroe. At that time, Southern support for the bank was critical to its successful creation. Of particular importance was the unwavering support of Kentucky Senator Henry Clay. By 1830, the Second Bank had become the largest corporation in the country and the only true nationwide business. The bank issued its own currency and served as the sole creditor of state banks. In short, it had immense power. But Andrew Jackson was never one to back down from a fight.

With the election of 1832 on the horizon, he declared war against that power, the very bank his opponent Henry Clay helped create. During the previous election of 1828, the future of the Second Bank of the United States had not been an issue for Jackson. In fact, it was such a non-issue that one member of the Second Bank's board of directors had felt comfortable enough to cast his vote for Jackson. The board member's name was Nicholas Biddle. When Jackson took the White House, his public position on the banks changed. The Second Bank's charter would be up for renewal in a few years' time, and Jackson used his first annual message to publicly question whether renewing the bank's charter was in the best interest of the people.

His statements were more than a shot across the bow. The message to Nicholas Biddle and the rest of the Second Bank's board was crystal clear. The Second Bank of the United States was in Jackson's crosshairs. Biddle decided to apply for a renewal of the bank's charter in January of 1832, four years early. His strategy was to force the issue, hoping Jackson would defer to the counsel of his Treasury Secretary, who was pro-bank, rather than risking political infighting with his own cabinet during an election year. Secretary McLean advised Biddle against this strategy, writing to him, if you apply now, you will assuredly fail. Henry Clay welcomed Biddle's move. In his mind, if the charter was rejected, Jackson would be handing him the election. So Biddle persisted.

And in 1832, Congress passed a measure to extend the bank's charter for 15 years. But Biddle had badly miscalculated. On July 10, 1832, in what is widely considered one of the most significant presidential vetoes in American history, Andrew Jackson struck down Congress's ruling. He called the second bank unconstitutional. Jackson's claim flew in the face of what many thought had been settled long ago by Justice John Marshall in the Supreme Court. But Jackson disagreed in the strongest form possible. He returned to long-abandoned arguments that the executive and the legislative branches were not bound by the judiciary's decisions, so he could judge constitutional questions himself. Jackson's argument was explicit. He wrote,

The rich and the powerful too often bend the acts of government to their selfish purposes, questions himself. Jackson's argument was explicit. He wrote, The rich and the powerful too often bend the acts of government to their selfish purposes, to make the rich richer and the potent more powerful. The humble members of society, the farmers, mechanics, and laborers, who have neither the time nor the means of securing like favors to themselves, have a right to complain of the injustice of their government. Jackson's veto made the bank a central issue of the election of 1832, pitting Henry Clay and the institution of the bank versus Andrew Jackson, the populist king of the mob. For Henry Clay and the Second Bank, it was a losing battle.

Jackson went on to win a second term in a landslide. The Second Bank failed to secure a recharter and eventually went under, dissolving in 1841. The election of 1832 clearly showed that Andrew Jackson was more popular than the bank, but it also showed how divisive Jackson was as a president and how regional his support was. South of Kentucky and Maryland, he won 88% of the popular vote, but nationwide, the results were far less impressive, a mere 54%. Still, with a South Carolina question settled, the Second Bank of the United States crippled, and his second term in the White House secure, Jackson was riding high.

But old Hickory was never one to rest on his laurels. Instead, Jackson would turn his attention, his ire west to the new frontier. From Wondery, this is Episode 3 of The Age of Jackson from American History Tellers. On the next episode, in the eyes of history, Jackson's presidency would ultimately be defined by a single issue, Western expansion and the treatment of Native Americans. Amazon Music. And before you go, tell us about yourself by filling out a short survey at wondery.com slash survey. American History Tellers is hosted, sound designed, and edited by me, Lindsey Graham for Airship. Additional production assistance by Derek Behrens. This episode is written by Christine King with research by Daniel Wallace. Produced by George Lavender. Executive producers are Marshall Louis and Hernan Lopez for Wondery.

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