History That Doesn't Suck - 104: The Road to the Spanish-American War

Episode Date: January 31, 2022

“Remember the Maine, to hell with Spain!” This is the story of the road to war for American Empire. Ruled by Spain, Cuba has nonetheless been at odds with the Crown for decades. The Caribbean isle has rebelled and warred against the colonial power more than once in the second half of the nineteenth century. The US has watched with great interest as some of its leaders and citizens have cheered for Cuban liberty, while others have thought more about annexation. The US is ascendant; the Spanish Empire is in its death throes. The US sees the Western Hemisphere as its turf; Spain is doing all it can not to lose the last remnants of its previously worldwide power. Those tensions hit a breaking point in February 1898, in Cuba’s Havana Harbor … ____ Connect with us on HTDSpodcast.com and go deep into episode bibliographies and book recommendations join discussions in our Facebook community get news and discounts from The HTDS Gazette  come see a live show get HTDS merch or become an HTDS premium member for bonus episodes and other perks. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

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What did it take to survive an ancient siege? Why was the cult of Dionysus behind so many slave revolts in ancient Rome? What's the tragic history and mythology behind Japan's most haunted ancient forest? We're Jen and Jenny from Ancient History Fangirl. Welcome to History That Doesn't Suck. I'm your professor, Greg Jackson, and as in the classroom, my goal here is to make rigorously researched history come to life as your storyteller. Each episode is the result of laborious research with no agenda other than making the past come to life as you learn. If you'd like to help support this work, receive ad-free episodes, bonus content, and other exclusive perks, I invite you to join the HTDS membership program. Sign up for a

seven-day free trial today at htdspodcast.com slash membership, or click the link in the episode notes. It's a warm, beautiful evening, February 15th, 1898, in Cuba's Havana Harbor. The crew of the USS Maine are enjoying a peaceful day aboard the ship, and it's good to be able to say that given the current situation. Although the Cuban War of Independence has been going on for three years at this point, it was just last month, amid massive riots on January 12th, that U.S. officials decided they needed some muscle down here to protect U.S. citizens and interests on the island.

That's what the Maine is here to do. But thankfully, things have been relatively calm, and on an evening like tonight, you'll find the crew engaged in any number of less-than-bellicose activities. Playing cards, joking around. Perhaps the ship's baseball team is squeezing in some practice before the sun sets. Maybe William Lambert's striking someone out right now. The color barrier may be keeping him from the major leagues, but just ask his crew and teammates.

You can't hit Will's curve or fastball. This is a team of winners. They recently crushed the boys from the USS Marblehead in the Navy Baseball Championship. But whatever the men's activities, Captain Charles Dwight Sigby's mind is on home as he retires to his quarters tonight. That's fair. He certainly has had a tense few weeks. The island's Spanish leaders were insulted when his well-armed, over 300-foot-long steel battleship made its home in Havana Harbor last month. But this astute, trim, walrus-mustachioed 53-year-old captain has wisely worked to improve that relationship. Charles has since exchanged

gifts with and visited these leaders. He's even gone to a bullfight. So you know what? That memorandum on torpedoes can wait. Charles's mind is on home. Grabbing pen and paper, he begins to write a letter to his wife. As the captain's pen glides, the ship's bugler and third baseman, C.H. Newton, signals the day's end with taps. The captain's pen slows as he absorbs Newton's hauntingly touching rendition of the tune. It's hard to do otherwise. Everyone knows Newton's unparalleled gift with the bugle. How many of the 354 men serving on this ship are just as transfixed right now, I can't say, but it would be foolish to think that's a low number.

It's not long after taps that Charles finishes his letter, but almost immediately after, around 9.40 p.m., he hears something. Did someone just fire a rifle? Now the whole ship is shaking. The electricity is out. Are those his men screaming? Charles springs into action. Emerging on the main deck, he instinctively barks out, Prepare to repel borders! But there's no one to repel. Isn't this an attack? Our captain is no novice.

He's a Civil War veteran who sailed under Admiral David Farragut. But no, he's wrong. No borders. The ship is sinking, though, and fast. The fire and explosions above compete ferociously with the waters below to consume the main. Rescue teams from an American merchant ship, the City of Washington, and a Spanish cruiser, Alfonso XII, row out to save all they can from the main's crew. They find survivors floating amid the dead soldiers and dismembered body parts

bobbing in the harbor's waters. Spanish doctors spring into action, working furiously to save lives. Men from the Maine flood the beds at the Spanish hospital, San Ambrosio, that night. This is where the 77-year-old American Red Cross founder, Claire Barton, finds them. Claire is in Havana to help Cubans suffering through the war, but she came running within hours of the Maine's explosions. She describes the 30 to 40 men whom she sees. Bruised, cut, burned, crushed by timbers, cut by iron, scorched by fire, and blown sometimes,

high in the air, sometimes driven down through the red-hot furnace room and out into the water, senseless to be picked up by some boat and gotten ashore. Their wounds are all over them, heads and faces terribly cut, internal wounds, arms, legs, feet and hands burned to the live flesh. The hair and beards are singed. All of them are grateful to see the Civil War's famous angel at the battlefield. She comforts them, takes their names, and sends telegrams on their behalf. She sits with one sailor who speaks of his fiancée back in the States. He'll never see her again. The sailor will die two days from now. Back in the harbor, little of the

remains above the waterline. Just some twisted, mangled iron and steel, and its mast. In and around the wreckage are the bodies of hundreds of sailors who've met their watery end. They include the Maine's entire championship-winning baseball team, save right fielder John H. Bloomer. My God. And to think, his teammate, Newton, spent his last few minutes of life

playing a gorgeous rendition of Taps. That moment now takes a whole new meaning. 266 Navy men are dead. Less than 100 of the Maine's crew have survived. But as Captain Charles Sigby telegraphs for assistance from nearby Key West, Florida, and government officials register the shock that the USS Maine has blown up, it won't take long for some in the press to assign blame. For them, there's only one logical answer. Spain. Welcome to History That Doesn't Suck. I'm your professor, Greg Jackson, and I'd like to tell you a story.

Music From Cuba and Puerto Rico in the Caribbean, to a canal through the Pacific and onto that ocean's Philippine and Hawaiian islands, and even Guam, we've now reached America's turn-of-the-century age of imperialism. And today, with the devastating tale of the USS Maine ringing in our ears, we start with the origins of what Secretary of State John Hay calls the United States' quote-unquote, splendid little war. This is the beginning of the Spanish-American War. To understand how this war came to be, we'll begin with some deeper background. This includes a quick rehash of some foreign policy thinking from 5th U.S. President James

Monroe, as well as a rundown on Cuba and the United States' views of the island as the century progresses. From there, we'll bear witness to independence-minded Cubans waging a 10-year war against Spain, a deadly incident including some American sailors, known as the Virginius Affair, and New York newspapers providing some shady reporting, known as yellow journalism, to encourage war and sell more papers. Once we've done all that, we can return to Cuba amid its war of independence, revisit the mains explosion, and finally, listen in as Congress deliberates before declaring war on Spain.

We're as jam-packed as ever, so let's get to it by going eight decades back for a refresher on the Monroe Doctrine. Rewind. In his 1823 annual message to Congress, President James Monroe provides guiding principles for American foreign policy toward European powers and their dealings with the New World, or Western Hemisphere. We talked about this in episode 27,

but to quote the last founding father president, that the American continents, by the free and independent condition which they have assumed and maintained, are henceforth not to be considered as subjects for further colonization by any European powers. Basically, the Americas are America's turf. So step off, Europe. But notice the key word there, further colonization. James Monroe and his Secretary of State, John Quincy Adams, know better than to think they can tell Europe to part with colonies they've already held for centuries.

That said, early to mid-19th century Spain isn't the power it once was. From French Emperor Napoleon Bonaparte's European conquests, to Simon Bolivar's fight for independence in Latin America, and more, the once mighty Spanish Empire that previously claimed contiguous territory from South America's Cape Horn all the way up to Canada is becoming a shell of its former self. Spain is soon left holding only a few colonies, including Cuba, Puerto Rico, Guam, and the Philippines. But as Spain clings to these last remnants of yesteryear glory, many of these colonized peoples are yearning for independence, and that certainly includes the Cubans.

And being so close to the Florida coast, as well as potentially beneficial to the United States' interests in the Caribbean, some Americans are growing anxious to support this move to push the Spanish crown off the island. By the mid-19th century, there's talk of the United States annexing Cuba. Manifest Destiny champion President James K. Polk tries to buy the island in 1848. Spain doesn't buy it, but some Americans, particularly Southerners, aren't ready to give up on the idea of adding slaveholding Cuba to the Union. Indeed, U.S. Minister to Great Britain James Buchanan represents this position in the Austin Manifesto of 1854.

We have arrived at the conclusion, and are thoroughly convinced, that an immediate and earnest effort ought to be made by the government of the United States to purchase Cuba from Spain at any price for which it can be obtained, not to exceed the sum of X dollars, close quote. And I say X because James just draws a line and left it blank. Moreover, this manifesto suggests a course of action if the Spanish don't bite. To continue quoting, after we shall have offered Spain a price for Cuba far beyond its present value, and this shall have been refused, it will then be time to consider the question, does Cuba, in the possession of Spain, seriously endanger our internal peace and the existence of our cherished union? Should this question be answered in the affirmative then, by every law, human and divine,

we shall be justified in wresting it from Spain if we possess the power. And this upon the very same principle that would justify an individual in tearing down the burning house of his neighbor if there were no other means of preventing the flames from destroying his own home. Close quote.

Damn. Basically, let's try to buy Cuba, and if Spain says no, it's time to bring out the big guns. Literally. But the plan doesn't take off. While the Austin Manifesto's author, James Buchanan, soon becomes president,

the U.S. has other fish to fry as it careens into full-on civil war. Yet, even after Robert E. Lee's surrender at Appomattox and the end of U.S. slavery, the United States doesn't lose interest in its Southern Caribbean neighbor. Especially as sugar planter Carlos Manuel de Céspedes and other leaders of the newly formed revolutionary

Junta de Cuba use a little American language as they make their move for independence from the Spanish crown. Dated October 10th, 1868, their Independence Declaring Manifesto, which also calls for the end of Cuban slavery, has a few nods to American thought. Almost word for word is the idea that men are created equal. Nosotros creemos que todos los hombres somos iguales. And further, these revolutionary leaders assert, if I may translate, when a people reaches

the extreme of degradation and misery to which we've come, no one can reprove them for taking up arms to get out of a state of disgrace. The example of the greatest nations authorizes that last resort. The island of Cuba cannot be deprived of the rights that other peoples enjoy and cannot allow it to be said that it knows nothing more than to suffer. Huh, follow the example of the greatest nations, las mas grandes naciones, by declaring independence from and taking up arms against European colonial rule

in the name of liberty and equality? Yeah, I think we've heard that narrative before. Many Americans get on board with supporting the Cuban Independence and Freedom Movement, known as Cuba Libre, even if, to Carlos' disappointment, the US isn't going to annex the island. And that support isn't to be taken lightly. As this 1868 manifesto marks the beginning of a war between Cuba and Spain, known for

its duration as the Ten Years' War, that support will turn deadly. It's October 31st, 1873, and we're aboard the Virginius. She's a 200-foot-long, nearly 500-ton ship, flying the American flag and sailing between Jamaica and Cuba in the Caribbean. A long-bearded, hook-nosed former Confederate officer, Captain Joseph Fry, along with Junta de Cuba leaders aboard the ship, are pushing the mixed Cuban, British, and American crew to get the ship steaming as fast as possible on the way to Cuba. During the Civil War, the Virginius was a Confederate blockade runner. Now this swift vessel is running supplies for Cuban revolutionaries. Coming from Jamaica, the Virginius is transporting 300 Remington rifles,

300,000 cartridges, plus gunpowder, hundreds of machetes, and other goods for the cause of Cuba Libre. Quite a boon for these revolutionaries, but the extra weight of the supplies is slowing down the usually speedy Virginius. And that's dangerous. These waters are crawling with Spanish ships, and if one finds an American vessel secretly supplying arms to the rebels, it's not going to be pretty. Suddenly, over the horizon, the gargantuan Spanish warship Tornado appears. Time to move.

The Virginias has escaped close encounters before, but often an official U.S. ship has been nearby and able to scare off any menacing Spanish vessels. With the Cuban shore in sight, though, there will be no rescue this time. And worse, as a blockade runner, the Virginius is lightly armed. So the crew knows they have no shot if this turns into a firefight. They push hard toward the Cuban coast. If they get there in time, all on board can abandon ship, avoid the Spanish, and live to fight another day. But it's to no avail. The ship's just too heavy, too broken down.

The tornado catches up and tows the Virginias and her captured crew to Santiago. In the following month, the Spanish send 53 of the Virginias' American, British, and Cuban rebel crew, as well as the captain, to face a firing squad. More would die too, but the British intervene. Hearing of the Virginias' capture and subsequent executions, they threaten to bombard Santiago if the Spanish don't release the remaining hundred or so men. The Virginias isn't a commissioned US Navy ship, but Americans are fuming. Secretary of State Hamilton Fish writes to the U.S. minister in Madrid, quote, the capture on the high seas of a vessel bearing the American flag presents a very grave question, and the summary proceedings

resulting in the punishment of death with such rapid haste will attract attention as inhuman and in violation of the civilization of the age. And if it proves that an American citizen has been wrongfully executed, this government will require most ample reparation. Some Americans are ready to go to war over this. Cooler heads prevail for now, though. Spain returns the Virginias and its remaining crew and pays reparations to the families of executed Americans. Meanwhile, skirmishes between the Junta and the Spanish military continue to plague the island until the Ten Years' War ends without Cuban

independence in 1878. But to say that U.S.-Spanish relations remain highly strained is an understatement. In the next decade, when the U.S. begins to bolster and modernize its navy, one consideration for doing so is being ready to help Cuba as the liberty-seeking island draws its sword against the Spanish crown. It does so again, briefly, between 1879 and 80, then once more with the start of the Cuban War of Independence in 1895. So what's keeping the United States from intervening? While plenty of Americans are fans of the Cuba Libre movement,

you might remember from our previous volume that big business is calling most of the shots in Gilded Age America. As industrialist and historian James Ford Rhodes will later tell us, quote, the financial and business interests of the country were opposed to the war, close quote. That is a broad generalization, though.

Some businessmen see wisdom in intervention. Doing so would open up new markets in the Caribbean and Latin America to American business. But with the country still reeling from the panics of 1873 and 1893, more in the world of big business prefer to avoid the potential economic confusion that a war might bring. And so, 20 years after the Virginius incident, 1890s American business and political leaders are walking a tightrope. They don't want to hurt business interests by fully intervening in Cuba, yet nominally there's a lot of popular support for Cuba Libre and the Junta revolutionaries against the Spanish. That sentiment crescendos

when, in an effort to control the embattled island, Spain appoints Walrus Mastachio, General Valeriano Weyler, as the governor of Cuba in 1896. Ruling with an iron fist clenched against the rebels, he eventually moves as many as 500,000 civilians, roughly one-third of the island's population, to so-called safe havens. Unfortunately, these re-concentration camps, a term derived from the general's program, the re-concentration policy, aren't nearly as nice as the general claims. As one later historian of the Wehler regime explains, quote, although he was successful moving vast numbers of people, he, General Wehler, failed to provide for them adequately.

Consequently, these areas became cesspools of hunger, disease, and starvation, where thousands died. As these stories are documented in the American press, stories that will eventually take Clara Barton and the American Red Cross to Cuba, the people of the United States wonder what their government should do. But leaders don't necessarily see eye to eye. The United States Consul General in Cuba, a Confederate veteran, and Robert E. Lee's mustache and goatee-wearing nephew, Fitzhugh Lee, believes U.S. intervention could prevent further disaster from coming to the

island, especially for its American citizens and U.S. interests. Newly elected U.S. President William McKinley, though, isn't interested in charging into war. So how long can policymakers dance around these positions as atrocities occur on an island just 100 miles off the U.S. shore? Well, one newspaper man is tired of waiting, and he's ready to tip the scales. Want to learn how you can make smarter decisions with your money? Well, I've got the podcast for you. I'm Sean Piles, and I host NerdWallet's Smart Money Podcast. On our show, we help listeners like you make the most of your finances. I sit down with NerdWallet's team of nerds, personal finance experts in credit cards, banking, investing, and more. We answer your real-world money questions and break down the latest personal finance news.

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Listen to NerdWallet's Smart Money Podcast wherever you get your podcasts. It's early morning, February 3rd, 1897, and Clemencia Arango, a young, talented, and bright polyglot who speaks three languages, is preparing to leave the Cuban capital of Havana. Per the orders of the Spanish government, she and two of her friends have to get off the island immediately. See, Clemencia's brother, Raul, commands part of the Cuban insurgency near Havana, and the Spaniards now suspect that she could be helping the Junta. So they've ordered Clemencia and these two other supposed female rebels exiled from the island.

That's harsh, but it's about to get even worse. Just as Clemencia and her friends are leaving the house to head to their ship, several Spanish detectives enter and begin to search their belongings. They demand that the women undress so they can be quote-unquote inspected and ensure they aren't carrying any letters to Junta supporters in Tampa or Key West. The women have no choice. After passing the so-called inspection, they make their way to the customs house before boarding the ship. Here again, Spanish officials force the women to remove articles of clothing, this time their shoes and stockings, to check for any contraband helping the rebel cause

before allowing them to board. Finally, the three board an American steamer with permission to be in Havana Harbor. This is the Olivet. As the ship prepares to leave, several Spanish officers, their suits branded with a red cross and gold lace, board the Olivet,

demanding to see the three women. They order a cabin on the vessel cleared. For the third time now, Spanish officials will strip search Clemencia and her friends. Afraid of getting his privileges in Havana revoked, the captain acquiesces. Pushing the women into the room, three men force them into the nude for one final, quote-unquote, inspection. Outside the door, the other men look for any signals of junta insurgents or supporters. They find one man suspect and force him to disrobe right there in front of all the other passengers. Having harassed these people and found nothing of note, the Spanish officials leave and the vessel makes its way north. Outrageous.

Humiliating. Not only for Clemencia and the other people involved, but for the United States. Spanish officials harassing people, potentially even American citizens, aboard an American ship? Why, it sounds bad enough for the United States to take some kind of military action, right? But the U.S. doesn't,

because the story as I've related it to you is quite a departure from the truth. I'll get to the real story, but this exaggerated, sensationalized account that I just shared with you is a taste of something called yellow journalism. Published under the headline, Does Our Flag Shield Women?, this sensational

account, as well as an etching of a nude Clemencia being inspected by the three men, appeared in the New York Journal, a newspaper run by William Randolph Hearst. Ah yes, Citizen Kane fans, we finally get to meet the inspiration for that film's famous newspaper man. With his dark hair and wide eyes, William has become a big deal in New York newspaper publishing here at the tail end of the Gilded Age. He's even giving our friend from a few past episodes, the spectacled immigrant newspaper man Joseph Pulitzer, a run for his money. The two editors' battle for dominance has led to the emergence of yellow journalism, where sensationalized storytelling takes the priority over accuracy and objectivity.

These flashy stories might not reflect the facts, but they sure do get an emotional response from readers, and that sells more papers. That's what we just experienced with Clemencia's story. But a few days after the journal publishes this tale, Joseph Pulitzer's world fires back with an interview from the actual Clemencia Arango, where they set the record straight. The world's article is titled, Indeed, the general events leading the Spanish to exile her from Cuba over her brother's leadership in the Junta were true. But the account of the inspections differ greatly here. A single woman,

not a team of men, inspected Clemencia privately to ensure she was not carrying any letters for the insurgents. Side note, she was. And these inspections happened at the customs house and on the Olivet. The account of a search at Clemency's home was a complete fabrication. In her own words, I was only searched twice, as stated, and neither place was I in any way ill-treated. The inspectress was not rough, but treated the matter quite indifferently.

During the examinations, the doors were securely closed and no men were admitted into the rooms, nor could they have seen into them. Close quote. Yeah, that's a very different story from what the journal gave us. But again, that's the point. The first story of a freedom-fighting woman being stripped by Spanish officials on an American ship sells papers. And that's William Randolph Hearst's ultimate goal. Well, that and political power. He sees yellow journalism as a chance to become a real contender in the world

of politics, especially if his incendiary accounts can push the U.S. toward intervention in Cuba. Although the oft-cited William Randolph Hearst quote that he will furnish the war has no evidence of ever occurring, the sentiment is definitely there. William wants the war to happen, and he will use his newspaper to help prod the U.S. to action. And at the same time, some in the government are digging the idea of a war with Spain. President William McKinley's young, handsome assistant secretary of the Navy, Theodore Roosevelt, who's been working to expand the U.S. fleet in the event of such a war, sees merit. To quote him, I would regard war with Spain from two viewpoints. First, the advisability on the grounds, both of humanity and self-interest, of interfering on behalf of

the Cubans, and of taking one more step toward the complete freeing of America from European domination. Second, the benefit done our people by giving them something to think of which is not material gain. And especially, the benefit done our military forces by trying both the Navy and Army in actual practice. Okay, so Teddy's taken the Monroe Doctrine to a new level. He doesn't just think that the United States should keep the Western Hemisphere free from further European colonization. He's asserting the U.S. has the right to intervene in pretty much any issue in the Western Hemisphere.

But as we note Teddy's enthusiasm for the war, let's not overstate yellow journalism's pro-war influence here. For one thing, it's mostly limited to New York City. Meanwhile, most wealthy businessmen still oppose the war, and they're unlikely to be swayed by incendiary news stories. But far beyond the New York bubble of yellow journalism, more newspaper trouble is brewing that spells disaster

for the relationship between the U.S. and Spain. And this time, those papers are in Cuba. It's the afternoon of Wednesday, January 12th, 1898, and an angry crowd is forming outside the Havana office of the newspaper La Discusión. The afternoon edition is just going to press as the mob bursts in. They lay waste to everything, just like other crowds in similar scenes across the Cuban capital. Okay, a little background.

At this point, Cuba's in the midst of its war for independence, and Spain is coming to see that its iron fist approach has failed. But a proposed middle-of-the-road solution, an autonomy plan in which Cuba becomes far more self-governing and democratic, yet remains under nominal Spanish rule isn't really appealing to either side. The Cuban insurgents want a total clean break from Spain to totally dissolve the political bands that have connected them, if you catch my drift. And they've threatened to even kill supporters of the autonomy proposal.

And the Spanish loyalists in Cuba? Well, they're the ones rioting throughout Havana today. They have zero interest in an autonomous Cuba run by insurgents who have, let's say, a bit of resentment directed at the Spanish. In the words of one newspaper report, quote, a new Cuba ruled by natives under constitutional forms is as distasteful to them, the loyalists, as free Cuba. Close quote. Add that to Cuba's current Spanish crown-appointed Captain General Ramon Blanco refusing to suppress the pro-autonomy newspapers, and Havana has become a powder keg. Okay, so now that we get the deeper situation, let's get back to these riots. As loyalist anti-autonomy rioters march upstairs at La Discusión office,

they shout, down with autonomy, long live Weyler, death to Blanco, viva España. One quieter cry from the crowd sums up their feelings. Spain or annexation, but autonomy? Never. Leaving La Discusión's office, the mob makes its way across Central Park to the office of yet another pro-autonomy paper, El Diario. The police attempt to hold back the rioters, but this mob has grown too large, too unruly. Several El Diario newsboys are shot at and beaten by the rioters and their sympathizers

as the crowd of loyalist Spaniards and Cubans grows and grows. By nightfall, riots throughout Havana have reached a tipping point. Police try to quell the protesters all over the city as many pro-autonomy papers shut down for the day, hoping to avoid mob violence. More rioters descend on and take control of the Plaza de Armas in front of the captain's general palace. They carry on for hours, demanding Blanco's resignation, for the iron-fisted Duelaire to be reinstated and the autonomy plan to be abandoned. At the same time, Americans in Cuba are begging the U.S. Consul General, still Fitz Hugh Lee, or Fitz as he's known, to ask Washington for warships

to protect American property and interests on the island. Those calls are only heightened in coming days when bombs are detonated in Cuban theaters and insurgents take advantage of the pandemonium to continue their attacks on the Spanish. But even as Americans seek shelter in the consulate, and as Fitz remains apprehensive of another outbreak at any moment,

he doesn't yet call for a wars worship. Fitz doesn't have to, though. The explosive situation in Cuba is making that happen anyway. Shortly thereafter, the Senate passes a resolution calling on President Will McKinley to show, quote, what measures are enforced by this government in the island of Cuba and in the waters contiguous thereto to protect the lives, liberty, and property of Will is feeling the pressure. So 10 days after the Senate resolution is passed, Will's Navy Secretary, John Davis Long, gives instructions that a U.S. ship go to Havana Harbor. You know, just in case.

He is adamant that this is not an act of, nor calling for, war. The Navy secretary tells the press, quote, matters are now in such condition that our vessels are going to resume our friendly calls at Cuban ports and go in and out just as the vessels of other nations do, close quote. Well, Spanish officials don't see it as so friendly, but regardless, an American ship is going. The USS Maine leaves Key West, Florida on January 24, 1898. She arrives at her new home of Havana Harbor the next day, the 25th, at 11 a.m. Two weeks pass. Skirmishes between insurgents and the Spanish continue, but nothing equal to the violence of January 12th. Yet, despite the relative peace,

tensions remain high, and they are about to get even higher. On February 9th, William Randolph Hearst publishes a letter in his newspaper, The Journal, from Spain's chief diplomat to the U.S., Enrique Dupuy de Lome. The letter shows Enrique's, and by implication, Spain's, feelings about President Will McKinley. In the article, entitled, The Worst Insult to the United States in Its History, the letter reads, quote, It shows once more what McKinley is, weak and catering to the rabble, and besides, a low politician, who desires to leave a door open to me and to stand well with the jingos of his party. Close quote. Oof, those are fighting words. Maybe this is just another yellow journalism fabrication from William Hearst, though? No, not this time. Enrique admits he wrote the letter and gets recalled to Madrid after his resignation. But still, the president and American public are

livid. From their perspective, the United States is the only thing helping the Cuban people and keeping a relative peace on the island. Yet here, the Spanish lamb blast the president? The Washington Sentinel sums it up like this. Enrique Dupuy de Lomé has been guilty of an act outrageous and insulting to the country in any case, and particularly outrageous and insulting at a time when relations between the two countries are strained, almost to the breaking point. Will McKinley demands an apology from the Spanish government. It's given, but in truth,

it's too little, too late. A week after the letter's publication in the New York Journal, the USS Maine will be lying at going down in Havana Harbor on February 15, 1898, as I described in the opening of the episode. Well, the aftermath is chaos, confusion, and Americans want answers. As the Sun newspaper reports only three days later, the mystery of the explosion that destroyed the battleship Maine in the harbor of Havana on Tuesday night is still unresolved. A board of naval officers has been appointed to learn the truth if possible, and it now seems probable that the public will be compelled to wait until their report is received to know the facts.

To his credit, President William McKinley refuses to jump to any conclusions. A Civil War veteran who personally witnessed the carnage of America's bloodiest day ever at the Battle of Antietam, Will isn't one to romanticize war. Nor are he and his business-minded Republican friends interested in rushing into war with Spain, not without knowing the causes of the explosion at least. In short, they haven't been taken in by the dueling New York journalists and their yellow journalism. In one edition of the Los Angeles Times, its cover art features William holding back eager Americans from launching war on Spain, followed up by a story entitled Keep Cool, which reads,

The president and most of the leading public men at Washington have set an excellent example by their coolness and calmness in the face of the emergency. This tragedy, coming at a time when the relations between the United States and Spain are decidedly strained, is calculated to cause great public excitement and to lead hasty and hot-tempered persons into saying and doing things which would better be left unsaid and undone. Now, surely, we don't know anyone who would do that, right? Of course we do. Our dear friend and yellow journalism extraordinaire,

William Randolph Hearst, eats this up. In his book, this is the type of news that deserves 24-hour coverage and some truth-stretching sensationalism. And he's going to give it just that. One day after the explosion, before the bodies are buried and the Navy Court of Inquiry has even been called, the journal's evening headline reads, Torpedo Hole Discovered by Government Divers in the Main.

With the subheading reading, quote, startling evidence of the Spanish treachery revealed, close quote. And even though his newspaper offers $50,000 for information on the perpetrator behind the Maine's explosion, Will Hurst is already pointing his finger directly at Spain.

His newspaper publishes all sorts of accounts suggesting that Spain purposely blew up the Maine to prevent U.S. intervention in Cuba. There are reports suggesting that Spanish agents knew, quote, our secrets and stole our cipher code, close quote, to carry out the attack. The journal cites eyewitnesses, including Captain Charles Sigby and even Assistant Secretary of the Navy Theodore Roosevelt, all quoting them as saying Spain is culpable here. And despite Spain's constant denial, William Hearst thinks that it's time for war once and for all. Whereas the Los Angeles Times showed President William McKinley holding back an angry mob from unjustly attacking the Spanish, Will Hearst's journal shows Bill McKinley holding back Uncle Sam from fighting the Spanish vulture,

feasting on Cuba and dead American troops. Oh, and Will Hurst and his fellow war hawks have a phenomenal war cry. Remember the Maine? To hell with Spain. Damn, that is good. Remember the Alamo doesn't hold a candle to that. Sorry, Texas, just calling it as I see it. That's going to get plenty of people riled up for war as Congress hears a disturbing report from the island.

It's March 17th, 1898, and the United States Senate has gathered in its chambers in Washington, D.C.'s Capitol building. Seated at their desks, which form a semicircle facing the raised rostrum and star-spangled banner draping down from the gallery above, the senators are prepared to discuss and debate. Like the House of Representatives, the White House, the Naval Court of Inquiry, the senators have but one thing on their minds right now. What should the U.S. do in regards to the Spanish in Cuba? It's with this question hanging in the air that Vermont Republican

Senator Redfield Proctor rises to speak. Sixty-seven years old, a Civil War veteran and former Secretary of War under Benjamin Harrison, Redfield's years of experience are evidenced by his serious eyes and salt and peppered beard. And having just returned from a semi-official trip to Cuba to observe conditions there, he's prepared to report his findings. He opens by discussing the state of the Cuban people under Spanish rule. He then paints a vivid scene of the suffering and death on the island. Their huts are about 10 by 15 feet in size,

and for want of space, are usually crowded together very closely. They have no floor but the ground and no furniture, and after a year's wear but little clothing, except such stray substitutes as they can extemporize. With large families, or with more than one in this little space, the commonest sanitary provisions are impossible. Conditions are unmentionable in this respect. Torn from their homes with foul earth, foul air, foul water, and foul food, or none.

What wonder that one half have died and that one quarter of the living are so diseased that they cannot be saved. A form of dropsy is a common disorder resulting from these conditions. Little children are still walking about with arms and chests terribly emaciated, eyes swollen, and abdomen bloated to three times the natural size. The physicians say these cases are hopeless. Deaths in the streets have not been uncommon. I was told by one of our consuls that people had been found dead about the markets in the morning, where they had crawled, hoping to get some stray bits of food from the early hucksters,

and that there had been cases where they had dropped dead inside the market surrounded by food. It is not within the narrow limits of my vocabulary to portray it. I went to Cuba with a strong conviction that the picture had been overdrawn, that a few cases of starvation and suffering had inspired and stimulated the press correspondence, and that they had given free play to a strong, natural, and highly cultivated imagination. I could not believe that out of a population of 1,600,000, 200,000 had died within these Spanish forts, practically prison walls within a few months past

from actual starvation and disease caused by insufficient and improper food. My inquiries were entirely outside of sensational sources. They were made by our medical officers, of our consuls, of city alcaldes, of relief committees, of leading merchants and bankers, physicians and lawyers. Several of my informants were Spanish-born, but every time came the answer that the case had not been overstated. What I saw I cannot tell so that others can see it. It must be seen with one's own eyes to be realized. The senators are shocked. These are not the words of some sensationalist

yellow press. This is a bona fide U.S. senator reporting on actual conditions just over a hundred miles south of the United States. Even the staunch, business-minded Republicans feel action has to be taken following Redfield Proctor's description of the dismal situation on Cuba. If Congress ever wants to intervene to help a suffering people, they must feel that now is the time.

And certainly, the conclusions of the Navy Board of inquiry into the explosion of the Maine will play a role in getting them motivated as well. Four days later, the Navy Board of Inquiry, headed by Captain William Sampson, releases its report. The three final findings of the court are most important to us. Namely, and I quote, the court finds that the loss of the Maine on the occasion named was not in any respect due to fault or negligence on the part of any of the officers or members of the crew of said vessel. In the opinion of the court, the main was destroyed by the explosion of a submarine mine, which caused the partial explosion of two or more of her forward magazines. The court has been unable to obtain evidence fixing the responsibility for the destruction of the Maine upon any person or persons.

While later historians will call into question the submarine mine theory, the court is clear. It does not specifically blame the Spanish military or any Spanish faction. But that doesn't stop the war machine as it revs up. After all, the board may suggest that it couldn't find evidence to indict the Spanish, but that doesn't mean they're not at fault in the eyes of many Americans. And after decades of perceived injustices against the Cuban people and the threat to Americans on the island, it seems the time for a throwdown has come. Going into April, Congress and the White House begin working on a declaration of war, but it's trickier than they thought. Some are still hesitant, and others in favor of war still want to make sure they clarify that this is not a war of conquest, that the United States has no intent of annexing Cuba.

Their sentiments are summed up well in the Independent magazine. The moral position of the United States is very strong. We are not asking for Cuba for ourselves. We have no desire to annex the island. We are not clamoring for any material advantage whatever. We have no quarrel with Spain on other scores. We have no desire to fight for glory or to fight at all unless driven to. Our desire is that the awful struggle in Cuba with all its attendant horrors of death by starvation and disease among the innocent non-combatants To put that another way, it's as William Randolph Hearst's Evening Journal declares, The war must be motivated by, quote, In that context, and with an impatient U.S. Capitol and public, quote, in understanding that weak people need to be aided, close quote, rather than conquered.

In that context, and with an impatient U.S. Capitol and public, President William McKinley finally sends a message to both houses of Congress on April 11th, 1898, asking that august body to consider using its power, granted by Article I, Section 8 of the U.S. Constitution, to declare war. This war message is 7,000 words long, so I'll give you but a small excerpt. I quote, The long trial has proved that the object for which Spain has waged the war cannot be attained. The fire of insurrection may flame or may smolder with varying seasons, but it has not been, and it is plain that it cannot be,

extinguished by present methods. The only hope of relief and repose from a condition which can no longer be endured is the enforced pacification of Cuba. In the name of humanity, in the name of civilization, in behalf of endangered American interests which give us the right and the duty to speak and to act,

the war in Cuba must stop. In view of these facts and of these considerations, endangered American interests, which give us the right and the duty to speak and to act, the war in Cuba must stop. In view of these facts and of these considerations, I ask the Congress to authorize and empower the President to take measures to secure a full and final termination of hostilities between the government of Spain and the people of Cuba, and to secure in the island the establishment of a stable government capable of maintaining order and observing its international obligations, ensuring peace and tranquility and the security of its citizens as well as our own, and to use the military and naval forces of the United States as may be necessary for these purposes. Civil War vet William McKinley still isn't much of a war hawk. His language actually upsets, or at least disappoints,

members of Congress who wanted more saber-rattling and appeals to patriotism. Nonetheless, this is a departure from just a couple of months ago when Will made it clear that he didn't want to be a wartime president. Fate, it seems, has different plans for him. Congress debates a joint resolution for war for a week or so. Sure, they feel the Maine must be avenged, but how do we go about it, especially without annexing Cuba? Replacing one imperial power with another on the island

might result in just more conflict and bloodshed. Senator Henry Teller of Colorado solves the problem, though. He proposes an amendment on the war resolution, which vows that the United States will, quote, leave the government and control of the island to its people, close quote. With Monroe Doctrine echoing in our ears, this doesn't sound like a move

to build an overseas American empire. But the much-diminished Spanish Empire still has other territories, and as the United States takes this step onto the world stage, who's to say where this war might lead? We shall see, but let's not get ahead of ourselves. On April 19th, 1898, Congress's joint resolutions recognize Cuban independence and give the president its blessing to go to war if Spain does not cease hostilities and withdraw from the island.

William McKinley signs it on April 20th, and the next day, April 21st, Spain and the United States sever diplomatic relations. Thus begins a splendid little war. HGDS is supported by premium membership fans. You can join by clicking the link in the episode description. My gratitude to Kind Souls for providing additional funding to help us keep going. And a special thanks to our members, whose monthly gift puts them at producer status. Thank you.