History That Doesn't Suck - 127: Mr. Wilson Goes to Washington (Progressive Policies & Foreign Affairs in South America)

Episode Date: February 13, 2023

“It would be the irony of fate if my administration had to deal chiefly with foreign affairs.” This is the story of the lesser-known aspects of Woodrow Wilson’s presidency–the events outside of World War I. The Progressive Era is still in full force as Woodrow Wilson enters the White House. Amid constitutional amendments 16 and 17, Woodrow continues to carry this wave of reform with a new central banking system, income tax, and monopoly-checking regulations. He does so, however, at the expense of his state-focused presidential platform. Ironically, he’s adopting a more federal and “Theodore Roosevelt” approach.  But the true irony is the growing focus on foreign affairs. Woodrow knows little to nothing of the world beyond the United States, but with Mexico in revolution and concerns about Germany getting a foothold in the Caribbean, the self-proclaimed anti-imperialist professor finds himself relying on military interventions in South America more often than any of his predecessors. Woodrow is learning the challenges of foreign policy the hard way; he’s doing so while facing the terrible grief of his wife’s death. ____ 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

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. Join us to explore ancient history and mythology from a fun, sometimes tipsy, perspective. Find us at ancienthistoryfangirl.com or wherever you get your podcasts. From the creators of the popular science show with millions of YouTube subscribers comes the MinuteEarth podcast. Every episode of the show dives deep into a science question you

might not even know you had, but once you hear the answer, you'll want to share it with everyone you know. Why do rivers curve? Why did the T-Rex have such tiny arms? And why do so many more kids need glasses now than they used to? Spoiler alert, it isn't screen time. Our team of scientists digs into the research and breaks it down into a short, entertaining explanation, jam-packed with science facts and terrible puns. Subscribe to MinuteEarth wherever you like to listen. 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 membership or click the link in the episode notes. It's one o'clock in the afternoon, December 16th, 1914, and eight Americans are walking briskly from the harbor into the city of Port-au-Prince, Haiti.

Their rapid movement feels out of place, as do the canes in their hands. They're also armed with revolvers. But with most Haitians taking their lunch break or afternoon siesta right now, few are around to see much less take note of their speed or light armaments. And so, the small group of men continue through the almost empty streets, through Place Giffard, then reach their destination, La Banque Nationale de la République d'Haïti, that is, the National Bank of the Republic of Haiti. Entering the two-story, white colonial building, the eight Americans approach the bank's staff. Undoubtedly, the Haitian employees must be alarmed by the canes and guns,

yet the bank's French and American employees appear calm as they quickly load 17 wooden boxes with gold, the equivalent of half a million U.S. dollars. The precious metal-laden boxes are then placed in a wagon outside and soon the eight men are off, riding through the streets with confidence, knowing their incognito lookouts will warn them that there's trouble ahead. Arriving safely at the harbor, the wagon comes to a stop as U.S. Marines spring into action, moving the boxes of gold from the wagon into a 40-foot long motorboat. Yes, you heard that right. U.S. Marines. In fact, this whole operation has been carried out by them.

The eight men at the bank and their lookouts on the streets are simply out of uniform, dressed as civilians. Now, 25 armed Marines are standing guard as the others swiftly load the gold into the boat. Once loaded, the vessel speeds through the waters toward the U.S. gunboat, the USS Machias. By 2 p.m., a mere hour since the eight out-of-uniform Marines first entered the National Bank of the Republic of Haiti, the USS Machias has weighed anchor and is steaming north. Two days later, the gunboat arrives in New York Harbor. The gold is unloaded and taken to 55 Wall Street, where it's deposited in the National City Bank of New York, or as you'll later know it,

Citibank. Welcome to History That Doesn't Suck. I'm your professor, Greg Jackson, and I'd like to tell you a story. History That Doesn't Suck So, did U.S. Marines seriously just pull a bank heist? Well, I'm sure it won't surprise you to hear the U.S. and Haitian governments have different narratives. First, a bit of background. After successfully overthrowing French colonial rule and enslavement in 1804, Haiti nonetheless struggled financially. A serious hit came in 1825 when French King Charles X sent word that he would acknowledge Haitian independence but only if the Caribbean nation agreed to pay a financial indemnity to France. The rationale? Haiti's independence caused France financial suffering as it lost ownership of plantations and slaves,

that is, the Haitian people themselves. With threatening warships delivering this message, Haiti saw little choice but to say yes. The young Republic of formerly enslaved souls took on enormous debt and high interest rate loans as it simultaneously dealt with chronic political instability. Still struggling with debt in 1880, Haiti turned to the French bank, Société Générale de Crédit Industriel et Commercial, to set up a central bank. Then French bankers embezzled. Haitian leaders sought a new arrangement in 1910. This led to a consortium of French and other banks and, yes, National City Bank. Things looked good as they ran the newly established National Bank of the Republic of Haiti and, per the government's wishes, prepared to retire Haiti's then-currency to replace it with

a gold-backed one. Then things went sideways. Amid presidential debts, creditors, and the foreign-run bank paying nice dividends overseas, the nation's economy again fell into shambles. The government rethought its new currency strategy, but the foreign bankers running the nation's central bank didn't like that. They feared what would happen to those funds set aside for this purpose. So, National City Bank's vice president, Roger Leslie Farnham, convinced Woodrow Wilson's new, inexperienced, and bank-hating secretary of state, the one and only William Jennings Bryan,

that securing these funds was the right thing to do. And now, we come to our two very different narratives, or rationales rather, of what happened at the National Bank of the Republic of Haiti. Secretary of State W.J.B. calls it, quote, merely a withdrawal of funds by the authorities of a private bank, close quote. Yeah, the Haitian people don't see it that way. Legal loopholes be damned. This was an armed bank heist. But the story isn't over. As the next Haitian president, Villebon Guillaume Sam, negotiates with U.S. bankers and political unrest rises, he tries to hold on to power by arresting and summarily executing 167 political prisoners. On July 28, 1915, the grieving families

of those slaughtered answer in kind by brutally killing and dismembering the president in the streets. This news deeply troubles U.S. President Woodrow Wilson. With World War I well underway, he fears the Caribbean nation's heightened political instability will make it an easy target for Germany to occupy and launch an attack on the U.S. As such, he sends U.S. forces to beat the potential German occupation to the punch. Thus, as historian Philippe Girard puts it, quote, Haiti, 111 years after the 1804 Declaration of Independence, was once again a colony, close quote. Nor is that the end of the story if we extend it to the whole of the island of Hispaniola.

Only a year later, in 1916, Woodrow further ensures that the Germans can't use the island at all by sending troops to occupy Haiti's likewise less than stable neighbor, the Dominican Republic. This occupation will last until 1924, while Haiti will remain under US control for nearly two decades, until 1924, while Haiti will remain under U.S. control for nearly two decades, until 1934.

World War I is such an important, humanity-altering, and devastating moment in history that it's easy to forget other important events happened at the same time. So today, as we build up to the Great War, we're turning our attention to some of the other important events of Woodrow Wilson's presidency that often get lost amid the enormity of the Great War. We begin with two progressive-era constitutional amendments, the 16th and the 17th, both of which are ratified close to the time Woodrow enters the White House in 1913. From there, we'll get into the domestic side of the professor's administration as he takes

on a slight Theodore Roosevelt vibe, asserting a strong presence over Congress and pursuing progressive fiscal policy ranging from an income tax to the Federal Reserve and more. Then, as we've done with today's opening, we'll look to foreign relations that precede the president's famous post-war 14 points by hearing the tale of Woodrow's almost war with revolutionary Mexico. It's quite the story, and let me note, you'll want to remember this when we get to the causes of the U.S. entering World War I in a future episode. Finally, we'll end by looking at Woodrow's personal life, as death and a new love come to the White House. So much to do in one little episode. Let's get to it then by heading back a few years and learning about some progressive era additions to the U.S. Constitution. Rewind.

The 16th Amendment consists of a single sentence. It reads, quote, The Congress shall have power to lay and collect taxes on incomes from whatever source derived, without apportionment among the several states, and without regard to any census or enumeration. So what does that mean? Well, going all the way back to episode 15, we know that Congress has the power to tax. It's typically been exercised, one, as a tariff on imports, or two, as an excise tax, that is, a tax on specific goods or services. That second option can be rough, though. Just ask

George Washington about that tax on whiskey back in 1794. So Congress tends to prefer the less visible tariff option. But amid the unprecedented gilded wealth of the late 19th century, progressives came to see tariffs contributing to the rise of those monopolies and trusts that Teddy Roosevelt began busting lest they undermine the republic itself. So, wanting to curb monopolies, progressives looked toward a tax they figured the rich couldn't dodge, an income tax. Their thinking was, to quote historian W. Eliot Brownlee, in a sense, conservative. It directed attention to the values of the early republic. Yet, as Brownlee continues, the idea was also, quote unquote, potentially radical, as it had,

quote, the goal of raising the government's revenues primarily or even entirely from the largest incomes and corporate profits. Close quote. That last part is important. See, income tax itself wasn't unprecedented. Republicans implemented one during the Civil War, while Democrats brought it back in 1894. But the U.S. Supreme Court shot down this second iteration the next year in its 1895 ruling on Pollock v. Farmers Loan and Trust Company. The court concluded that, although this 1894 income tax was, like its Civil War predecessor,

set at 2%, some of its progressive-driven efforts to tax the rich, particularly its inclusion of rents from real estate, made it a direct tax, one that wasn't apportioned among the states per the Constitution's specifications in Article I, Section 2. Ah, that's why the 16th Amendment addresses the census and apportionment among the states. With hopes of diminishing the wealth gap created by the nation's modern second industrial economy, progressive reformers now have the constitutional authority to try this style of income tax again. The amendment will be ratified on February 3rd, 1913, one month before Woodrow takes the oath of office. The Progressive Era's next amendment, the 17th, is a tad longer, but we only need the first bit to get the gist. It opens, quote, The Senate of the United States shall be composed of two senators from each state, It opens, Yes, the people.

In other words, citizens in a state will directly vote for their two U.S. senators. This is a significant change. From the first Congress in 1790 until this point, Article 1, Section 3 of the Constitution has specified that, quote, the Senate of the United States shall be composed of two senators from each state chosen by the legislature thereof, close quote. The Constitution's framers set it up this way because, one, they trusted state legislatures more than direct elections to put the cream of the crop in the U.S. Senate, and two, this gave state governments

direct representation within the federal government, a significant concern as the Framers weighed out how this constitution would impact the sovereignty of the states. Let me quote Father of the Constitution James Madison here. Ah, good to see you again, little Jimmy. It's been a while. Anyhow, in Federalist No. 62, the hypochondriac Virginian argues that having state legislatures pick senators, quote, is recommended by the double advantage of favoring a select appointment and of giving to the state governments such an agency in the formation of the federal government as must secure the authority of the former and may form a convenient link between the two systems.

Close quote. But this hasn't always worked as smoothly as Little Jemmy and Company hoped. Deadlocked state legislatures have, at times, failed to see a senator, leaving the state underrepresented in Congress. At other times, special interest groups have leaned on the scales of senatorial selections. While some are alarmed at what this amendment will do to the balance of power between the states and federal government, more Americans see the direct election of senators as a needed corruption-fighting step. Congress passed this amendment this year, in 1912. It will be ratified early during the

Wilson presidency. And with that, we're up to speed on the first two progressive constitutional amendments and about ready to start the Woodrow Wilson administration. But before we do, let's catch up with the president-elect at his New Jersey home, where he's about to send a clear signal about how he plans to operate as the nation's new commander-in-chief. It's November 6th, 1912, the day after the presidential election. We're at 25 Cleveland Lane, Princeton, New Jersey, the Wilson home, where crowds of well-wishers are congratulating the longtime Princeton professor and short-time New Jersey governor on his victory. Among them is Democratic National Committee Chairman William McCombs.

William traveled through the night to get here, only sleeping two hours, but is happy to be able to congratulate Woodrow in person for being the Democratic Party's first successful presidential candidate of the century. The wait feels unusually long, but no matter. In due time, Woodrow invites William to step into his library. Entering the room, William expresses his joy. Governor, I came over to offer you my sincerest congratulations upon your election and to express my hope that you will have a happy and successful administration. But to William's surprise, Woodrow appears removed. With a mechanical, cold handshake, the president-elect tells the Democratic chairman, Before we proceed, I wish it clearly understood that I owe you nothing.

Completely taken aback, William replies, I might be given credit for doing a little toward your nomination and election. Woodrow answers, Whether you did little or much, remember that God ordained that I should be the next president of the United States. Neither you nor any other mortal or mortals could have prevented that. So it sounds like Woodrow has his own version of Vox Populi, Vox Dei, but as historian H.W. Brands points out, William McCombs, who provides this account, may have embellished it in his frustration. Even so, Brands suggests that, quote, the quoted passage almost certainly captured

Wilson's general feeling on the subject. Close quote. Woodrow has his trusted advisors, his personal secretary, Joseph Tomlety, the Boston-based lawyer, Louis Brandeis, and a wealthy Texan, the honorary colonel, Edward House. But just as we saw with his governorship in episode 124, Woodrow has no plans to let the Democratic Party, or any entity for that matter, treat him like a puppet. Starting his presidency on March 4, 1913, Woodrow plans to assert his leadership, even over Congress. For the last 112 years, U.S. presidents have not spoken directly

to Congress. George Washington and John Adams both did it, but POTUS number three, Thomas Jefferson, ended the practice. Why is up for debate? If you're a Tommy fan, you likely believe it was because this man of the people didn't like presidents giving off a monarchical throne speech vibe. If you don't love him, then you might argue that the Sage of Monticello ended the practice simply because he wasn't the best public speaker. Whatever the reason, though, every president since Tom has simply sent their annual address or anything they have to say to Congress to the U.S. Capitol for a clerk to read. But only a few weeks into his presidency, the progressive president intends to break that century-old tradition to deliver his thoughts on tariffs.

It's a little before one o'clock in the afternoon, April 8th, 1913. Connecticut's assent to the 17th Amendment is making it a part of the Constitution today, but we're not up north for that. No, we're in Washington, D.C., seated, just like the First Lady Ellen Wilson and her three daughters, in the packed, second-story gallery overlooking the House of Representatives chamber below. Soon, the House doorkeeper enters. He bellows over the chattering crowd and legislators on the floor. The Vice President of the United States and members of the United States Senate. All quiet down as these leaders of government enter. Vice President Thomas Marshall heads to the rostrum and sits in an armchair to the right of the Speaker. The Senators file into the front rows.

Then, he arrives. President Woodrow Wilson. The chamber erupts with applause as the slim, bespectacled 50-something rookie President enters. Flanked by congressmen, he shakes a few hands. Then, following a word of introduction by Speaker Champ Clark and more applause, Woodrow begins. Mr. Speaker, Mr. President, gentlemen of the Congress, I am very glad indeed to have this opportunity to address the two houses directly

and to verify for myself the impression that the President of the United States is a person, not a mere department of the government hailing Congress from some isolated island of jealous power, sending messages, not speaking naturally and with his own voice. That he is a human being trying to cooperate with other human beings in a common service. A strong start. Plenty of congressmen here don't appreciate what you're throwing aside over 100 years of tradition by speaking directly to them, but those were humanizing words.

The professorial president continues. I have called the Congress together in extraordinary session because a duty was laid upon the party now in power at the recent elections, which it ought to perform promptly. It is clear to the whole country that the tariff duties must be altered. They must be changed to meet the radical alteration in the conditions of our economic life, which the country has witnessed within the last generation. That's right. A progressive, Woodrow agrees with the rationale we saw driving the new 16th Amendment, that tariffs are helping to sustain the nation's Gilded Age-originating monopolies. He goes on to explain that this is a corruption of these tariffs' original purpose.

We have seen tariff legislation wander very far afield in our day. We long ago passed beyond the modest notion of protecting the industries of the country and moved boldly forward to the idea that they were entitled to the direct patronage of the government. Consciously or unconsciously, we have built up a set of privileges and exemptions from competition behind which it was easy by any, even the crudest forms of combination, to organize monopoly. Woodrow notes exceptions, specifically goods not produced in the U.S. and luxury items. But by and large, he calls on Congress to craft fiscal laws that don't privilege or advantage specific companies, but rather build up trade. But even in these few instances, he adds,

the object of the tariff duties henceforth laid must be effective competition, the wedding of American wits by contest with the wits of the rest of the world. The president's message is answered with enthusiastic applause. Despite earlier condemnations, his break from a Jeffersonian tradition has proven a huge success. He'll continue to address Congress directly, as will his successors. The speech concluded, the Wilson family piles into the same car. Young Eleanor will never forget her mother's sharp assessment as they drive off. That's the sort of thing

Roosevelt would have loved to do if he had thought of it. Woodrow roars with laughter at the thought as he answers. Yes, I think I put one over on Teddy. Thus begins months of congressional debate over tariffs. Special interests come forward, including sugar planters in Louisiana who aren't interested in direct competition with Puerto Rico or Cuba.

In time, though, almost every Democrat in the House not from Louisiana agrees to cut the general tariff from 40% to 25%. Of course, lower tariffs will cost the federal government about $50 million, or roughly 15% of last year's tariff haul, to be exact. So how do they offset that? With the newly passed 16th Amendment, of course. In true progressive era style, Congress cuts tariffs to reinvigorate competition and attack monopolies while simultaneously hitting the wealthy with an income tax, which, after exemptions and deductions, will cost the wealthiest 1%, about 1% of their income. All of this fiscal policy is wrapped up in the Underwood-Simmons Act,

aka the Revenue Act of 1913. Woodrow will sign it into law on October 3rd, 1913. But tariffs and taxes aren't the professorial president's only fiscal concern in 1913. That summer, he also asks Congress to address the nation's banking issues. Now, Woodrow is no banking expert, far from it. But from bankers to legislators, everyone knows the nation's inelastic bond system isn't cutting it. There have been five economic panics since the Civil War alone, and the last one in 1907 still has people shaken.

Something needs to be done. The idea currently in the works is a bank for the banks, a central bank of sorts consisting of a national board with regional branches that can give banks loans and print a national currency. The idea started with Republican Senator Nelson Aldrich and took greater form at a secret meeting he and the nation's banking elite held at a luxurious club on Georgia's Jekyll Island in 1910.

Congress shut it down, but the state's rights-loving Democratic Congressman Carter Glass reintroduced the idea with greater emphasis on regional bank power in 1912. But the question of who will control all of this remains. Private bankers say they should. They have the know-how. Though, that said, we know that Haiti is about to become a worst-case scenario of what can happen when a nation's central bank is purely in the hands of private bankers. Progressives want it in the hands of the government. But is there a way to get that banking know-how without handing private bankers the keys

to the kingdom? Striving for that outcome, Woodrow drives Congress to a compromise. The 12 regional banks will be private corporations. Local private banks will deposit 6% of their assets in their region's Federal Reserve Bank, enabling them, in return, to loan money to the local banks in a pinch. But there's a government check on that power. A president-appointed board will provide government oversight of the 12 regional banks. Amid some angst and cries of socialism, Congress nonetheless passes the Federal Reserve Act, bringing this system to life. The academic president signs it into law on December 23, 1913. A lower tariff, a focused on the rich income tax, the establishment of a unique central

banking system, and all on the heels of two newly ratified amendments, 1913 has been a busy year for the nation and its new progressive president. 1914 will bring more financial focus with the creation of the Consumer Protection and Trust Regulating but Permitting Federal Trade Commission and Clayton Antitrust Act. And yet, decentralized as the new Fed is, does the professor in the White House appreciate that with his federal approach to banking and trusts, his progressivism looks less like his state-oriented, monopoly-attacking 1912 presidential platform of new freedom and more like Theodore Roosevelt's 1912 platform of new nationalism?

Ah, the irony. But as the year draws to a close, the old professor won't be able to keep his focus on implementing progressivism in the United States. Not when the nation's neighbor to the South is in the midst of a revolution. When Johann Rall received the letter on Christmas Day 1776, he put it away to read later. Maybe he thought it was a season's greeting and wanted to save it for the fireside. But what it actually was, was a warning, delivered to the Hessian colonel, letting him know that General George Washington was crossing the Delaware and would

soon attack his forces. The next day, when Rawl lost the Battle of Trenton and died from two colonial Boxing Day musket balls, the letter was found, unopened in his vest pocket. As someone with 15,000 unread emails in his inbox, I feel like there's a lesson there. Oh well, this is The Constant, a history of getting things wrong. I'm Mark Chrysler. Every episode, we look at the bad ideas, mistakes, and accidents that misshaped our world. Find us at ConstantPodcast.com or wherever you get your podcasts. 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. The Nerds will give you the clarity you need by cutting through the clutter and misinformation in today's world of personal finance. We don't promote get-rich-quick schemes or hype unrealistic side hustles.

Instead, we offer practical knowledge that you can apply in your everyday life. You'll learn about strategies to help you build your wealth, invest wisely, shop for financial products, and plan for major life events. And you'll walk away with the confidence you need to ensure that your money is always working as hard as you are. So turn to the nerds to answer your real world money questions and get insights that can help you make the smartest financial decisions for your life. Listen to NerdWallet's Smart Money Podcast wherever you get your podcasts. Woodrow Wilson knew little of foreign affairs upon entering the White House. Few Americans cared. Though a rising industrial juggernaut with some imperial holdings

following the recent Spanish-American War, the early 20th century United States is still relatively uninterested in the world beyond its shores. Hence, foreign policy wasn't an issue in the 1912 election, and Woodrow could freely admit to a friend just before his March 1913 inauguration.

It would be the irony of fate if my administration had to deal chiefly with foreign affairs. Good God. That just might be the most ironic comment ever made about irony. Of course, the soon-to-start Great War will become the exclamation point on that irony, but Woodrow's worries about foreign affairs start sooner than that, particularly with the United States' southern neighbor, Mexico. Let's start with some background. Mexico gained its independence from Spain in 1821. Between the Texas Revolution in the 1830s and the Mexican-American War in the 1840s, it lost northern territory running from Texas to California, which the U.S.

annexed. Side note, if you're salivating for the details here, revisit episodes 29 and 33 through 36. Santa Ana sold a little more territory to the U.S. in 1853, the Gadsden Purchase, and after him, Mexico had a civil war known as the Reform War. As fighting continued, Mexico put a freeze on its payments of foreign debts. Napoleon III of France wasn't having it though. He sent his military and soon had Mexico on its heels. But Mexican forces did beat the French at the Battle of Puebla on May 5th, 1862. A joyous victory, and that, not Mexican independence, is the origin of Cinco de Mayo. Now, it's always a pleasure to explain the origins of a day that, like St. Patrick's Day,

will be largely misunderstood by future inebriated Americans, but more important to our tale is a Mexican general at this battle, who later became a hero, Porfirio Díaz. Fifteen years of second Mexican empire and a restored republic later, the general led a successful coup d'etat in 1867, installing himself as a stabilizing but iron-fisted dictator. This lasted for more than three decades, until 1910 when a reformer named Francisco Madero challenged him for the presidency and thus initiated the Mexican Revolution. Porfirio fled.

Francisco became president. But this didn't last long. In 1913, just weeks before Woodrow Wilson took the oath of office as president of the United States, Mexican General Victoriano Huerta led a coup, killed the democratically elected president, and took control. Violence continued as his opponents fought on. Now that we've got a grasp of the background and current situation in Mexico, I'm sure you appreciate the significance of the newly installed and still embattled Mexican president, or el asupador, as his detractors call him, asking the new U.S. president and other world

leaders to recognize his regime. Disgusted by Victoriano Huerta's murderous rise, Woodrow comments privately, I will not recognize a government of butchers. But the moralistic president's response also displays his inexperience. Traditionally, the only recently a global power United States hasn't questioned the morality of a foreign nation's government. It has simply recognized whoever held that governing power. U.S. Ambassador to Mexico Henry Lane Wilson wants to see that tradition upheld. More to the point, as recent years have seen increased U.S. investment in Latin America to exert influence, aka dollar diplomacy, we also have U.S. businessmen clamoring for economic

stability. They agree with the ambassador and want their philosophical professor-president to get on with the realpolitik of recognizing the Huerta regime. But Woodrow holds out, and he's supported by his larger-than-life Secretary of State, the one and only great commoner, William Jennings Bryan. Yes, as noted in today's opening, the progressive Democrat we know so very well from past episodes, WJB, is in charge of the State Department. But why? Well, he's an important party leader and helped Woodrow get elected, but I can't put this

better or more succinctly than historian and Woodrow Wilson biographer, H.W. Brands. He explains that while Woodrow likes his fellow progressive Democrats' biblically-inspired pacifism, the great commoner was also chosen, quote, because Wilson didn't think foreign affairs would play an important role in his administration, close quote. Ah, yes. Even in Woodrow's choice for Secretary of State, the irony of fate has already begun to laugh. Distrusting the pro-Huerta regime U.S. ambassador, the progressive president and secretary send journalist William Bayard Hale as a special secret agent to investigate. His findings are most disturbing. He reports that

the U.S. ambassador isn't just realpolitik, but in cahoots with Victoriano Huerta. The coup, he says, turned murderous because of the ambassador's support. Worse still, many Mexicans believe he acted on instruction from Washington. Aghast, Woodrow recalls the dishonorable diplomat and replaces him with John Lend. Now, John knows nothing about Mexico. Nada. In fact, he doesn't know what nada means because he speaks zero Spanish. But the inexperienced and foreign policy president actually thinks that's good because it means John will have no bias.

Thus, Woodrow and WJB send this former congressman and Minnesota governor to Mexico, where he gives President Huerta an ultimatum. Hold a free and fair presidential election and step aside by not running as a candidate, or the U.S. will not recognize Mexico's government. Okay, Woodrow has good intentions, but again, this screams foreign policy novice. By edicting to Mexico when it holds elections and who can run, Woodrow is stepping on Mexico's sovereignty.

Even opponents of Mexico's coup-established leaders see this. The gentleman who served the former and dead president as the Foreign Relations Secretary, Manuel Calero, declares that it isn't the U.S. president's place to drive off el usurpador, but rather, quote, a matter that concerned exclusively the people of Mexico, close quote. Hold up. Does that mean the president should not withhold recognition of a murderer? Welcome to the complications of foreign relations, professor. Months pass.

As we enter 1914, the civil war between the Huerta regime and the constitutionalists appears no closer to ending. Meanwhile, Woodrow Wilson continues to withhold his recognition of Mexico's current government. But soon, a misunderstanding on Mexico's Gulf Coast brings the tension between the two nations to a whole new height. It's an unseasonably cool day, April 9, 1914. We're just off the coast of Tampico, Mexico, where a whale boat under the command of 23-year-old ensign Charles C. Kopp is making its way through the Gulf of Mexico's waters toward the northeast side of the city

to pick up fuel. Here's the deal. It's a short trip, but there's a little time. Let me fill you in on the situation before we get to our destination. In recent days, the war between Victoriano Huerta's troops and the constitutionalists has turned oil-producing Tampico into a battleground. German, British, and U.S. warships have been burning fuel, shuttling refugees. Meanwhile, the fighting has prevented the U.S. squadron from refueling at their usual American-owned sites. But today's been calmer, and this morning, while at the city's U.S. consulate, Captain

Ralph Earle of the USS Dolphin met a local German expat, and this morning, while at the city's U.S. consulate, Captain Ralph Earl of the USS Dolphin met a local German expat, Max Thiren, who offered to sell the commander fuel. That's why Ensign Charles Cobb is out here. The captain is sending him and his small crew in this likewise small vessel, flying the U.S. flag at both bow and stern, to pick up gas cans at Max's warehouse.

Following the Germans' instructions, Charles navigates the whale boat up a narrow canal. He and his crew then tie off less than 100 yards from the Irbide Bridge. Charles and his men begin moving the gas cans from the warehouse to their whale boat. Then suddenly, they're interrupted. It's a dozen well-armed Bartholomé Regime soldiers. Not speaking Spanish, the American sailors fail to understand the troops' words,

but can read the situation. Those on the dock stop loading the fuel. Still on the boat, Coxon G.H. Seifert and Seaman J.P. Harrington are less sure of what to do. Guns are pointed at their chests. Do they comply? Charles tells them yes, and the whole group of blue-clad sailors submits to arrest. Informed by the German expat, Captain Ralph Earl and an interpreter immediately go to the city and seek out military governor, Morales de Argoza. He apologizes profusely, stating that

the soldiers are, quote, evidently ignorant of the first laws of war, close quote, and immediately has the sailors released. Within 90 minutes, all is set right. No deaths, injuries, or abuses. Only sincere words of contrition from Mexican leadership. The captain appears understanding, and soon all the sailors are back on their whale boat and returning to the squadron flagship with the fuel.

Clarence Miller served as the interpreter when the U.S. Navy captain and military governor spoke. He was sure this simple understanding, later dubbed the Tampico Affair, had been settled then and there. But he was wrong. Upon hearing what happened, squadron commander Rear Admiral Henry Mayo declares that when the Mexican troops force two Navy men from a vessel flying the U.S. banner, two banners in fact, they may as well have arrested them on U.S. soil. This was a breach of U.S. sovereignty, he asserts. The commander demands further penance. A 21-gun salute. The situation escalates. Victoriano Huerta says he'll fire the salute if the U.S. will answer in kind. He wants a protocol signed first as well. Ah, that's tantamount to government recognition.

Woodrow Wilson says no. And, moreover, in the face of this standing insult, the United States' honor must still be defended. With a German ship illegally transporting arms to Huerta forces at Veracruz, the professor sends the U.S. military to prevent this by occupying the coastal Gulf city. They do so only a month after the Tampico affair, in early May 1914. Woodrow says U.S. forces are there to help. They try to prove this by building roads, running electric lighting, and otherwise helping infrastructure. But no, the people of Veracruz are not grateful for a military occupation.

Oh, Woodrow. I hate to break it to you, Professor, but Theodore Roosevelt called and he'd like his big stick back. Indeed, without even realizing it, Woodrow, who always considered his Rough Rider predecessor a bully abroad, has fully adopted the Monroe Doctrine and Roosevelt Corollary we learned about in episode 116 here in Mexico. Victoriano Huerta does fall from power and flees into exile that July. It's no thanks to the U.S. occupation of Veracruz, though.

U.S. forces continue to hold the port city until constitutionalist first chief Venustiano Carranza secures his position as the nation's new leader that November. But even as they withdraw and the world's attention turns to the great war now raging in Europe, revolutionary Mexico's dealings with its northern neighbor are far from settled. The Huerta regime's fall didn't end Mexico's civil war. Instead, the fractures between those who fought against El Usubador now come to the fore. The South's land-reformed-oriented Emiliano Zapata and the North's constitutionalist general

Francisco Villa, or just Pancho as he's known, both challenged the leadership of the constitutionalist president. Woodrow sees more ability in Pancho Villa, but he officially acknowledges the Carranza government in late 1915. Well, Pancho won't stand for that. Angered at Woodrow's shifting support and convinced that the first chief has sold out Mexico, he determines to keep the war going. It's 4.15 a.m., March 9th, 1916. Armed and on horseback, the mustachioed Lion of the North, Pancho Villa, leads 500 of his

men as they ride straight into the small U.S. border town of Columbus, New Mexico. They catch the town by surprise as they fire indiscriminately, loot stores, and put homes to the torch, all while crying out, Viva Villa and Viva Mexico! The nearby 13th U.S. Cavalry snaps into action. Though caught off guard and greatly outnumbered, they rally and turn the battles tide. The Villistas are put to flight by sunrise. The surprise attack cost Pancho the lives of about 70 of his men. Meanwhile, 17 Americans are dead, half of whom were private citizens. Those citizen deaths were not an accident. While the pursuing cavalry fail to

capture Pancho, they do find some of the charismatic leader's personal effects, including papers with his orders before attacking Columbus. They instructed his men to, quote, kill all the gringos, close quote. This is it. Between Pancho killing several American miners and engineers on a train in Mexico two months ago, and this attack on U.S. soil, the first since the War of 1812, the people of the United States are outraged. Woodrow has to answer, yet, if President Carranza allows it, he'll look like a U.S. puppet. Pancho can be brutal,

and yet, that calculating attack was well played. Within a week's time, Woodrow sends General John J. Pershing with a 5,000-strong army across the U.S.-Mexico border in pursuit of the revolutionary leader. Pancho evades, the Carranza government looks weak, while Mexican and U.S. forces clash at Parral. War appears imminent in America, but Germany is quickly becoming the United States' greater concern. Citing a desire not to lead the U.S. into what he calls another predatory war with its southern neighbor, Woodrow orders a withdrawal. The punitive expedition, as it is known, ends in February 1917. In the end, Woodrow Wilson's high-minded idealism turned into heavy-handed intervention in Mexico that accomplished little more than enraging the Mexican people. How very, to use the president's word, ironic.

It seems that in Mexico, as in a few other places, Woodrow finds his efforts to protect U.S. interests looking more like the quote-unquote benevolent imperialism of his predecessors that he once condemned than he would like. But I'll save the analysis for the end of the episode. Now that we've caught most of the big aspects of Woodrow's presidency outside of World War I, we need to turn our attention briefly to his personal life. Even presidents are human, and it turns out that Woodrow spent part of his first term trying to lead from under the dark shadow of a painful death,

and yet, one followed by a new love. It's quite the tale, and to do it justice, we need to go back to the beginning of Woodrow's presidency. Rewind. mind. Starting in March 1913, early presidential life looks good on Woodrow Wilson. As his daughter Eleanor, lovingly nicknamed Nell, will later describe, "...Father looked extraordinarily well and vital during these first weeks. When I saw him come out of his study and stride down the hall toward us,

I noticed that his walk had acquired more than its usual buoyancy. His eyes were strikingly clear and bright, and there was a sort of chiseled keenness in his face. He was finer looking in those days than ever before in his life. A friend said, God set out to make Woodrow Wilson ugly, but Woodrow has made himself handsome. Yeah, it's quite the backhanded compliment, but this friend wasn't trying to be mean. Woodrow himself admits he isn't a looker. He frequently remarks that he looks like a horse, and his favorite limerick is, for beauty, I am not a star. There are others more handsome by far, but my face, I don't mind it, for I am behind it. It's the people in front that I jar. But handsome or not, the professor simply

glows these days. This son of a minister feels he's doing God's work. His three daughters are, for now, under the White House's roof. And of course, he has his beloved wife, Ellen, by his side as his greatest advisor and confidant. Yes, Ellen is a loving and loyal spouse. We saw some of this in episode 124, but I'll remind you that since their marriage in 1885, Ellen has been nothing but a constant cheerleader. She thinks Woodrow can do anything. He's lucky to have her, and even now, despite her poor health,

the dutiful Christian woman is giving her all as First Lady. Much like Teddy Roosevelt's photo-taking friend with whom we bonded in episode 126, Jacob Reese, Ellen passionately campaigns for improving living conditions for the poor. She regularly takes members of Congress with her to visit the slums of D.C. in hopes that life-improving legislation will follow. During these visits, the First Lady gives food, money, and her genuine love to the tenants. And when not busy trying to uplift the poor, Ellen gives her full attention to discussing Woodrow's work. Her influence on Woodrow cannot be understated, as Woodrow freely

admits. This includes his speeches. The First Lady's additions and ideas are often the favorite and most powerful lines the President delivers. But as the months pass, change is in the air. On November 25, 1913, Woodrow and Ellen's second daughter, beautiful golden-haired Jessie, marries in grand style at the White House. Though happy with the husband their daughter has selected, the first couple nonetheless find it hard to watch their daughter leave the nest.

Only months later, on May 7th, 1914, Wilson's playful, youngest, and favorite daughter, Nell, also marries at the White House. With only 100 guests, this wedding isn't nearly as lavish. Nor are Woodrow and Ellen as excited with their youngest daughter marry a man with seven children from his first marriage and 26 years her senior isn't why this second wedding is so very scaled back. The fact is, Ellen's health is deteriorating. She's suffering from the same kidney condition that took President Chester Arthur to the

grave, Wright's disease. And she doesn't have much time left. It's August 4th, 1914. We're in Washington, D.C., inside the White House. Woodrow Wilson is seated at Ellen's bedside. He spends as much time as he can right here with his wife. With one hand, he holds Ellen's as she sleeps. With the other, this distraught Commander-in-Chief is writing messages to the leaders and rulers of Europe, offering anything he can do to stem the tide of war now washing over their continent. Such is the life of a mourning husband simultaneously bearing the burden of the presidency. The day wears on. Two of Woodrow and Ellen's daughters, Margaret and Mel, are both here. They know it doesn't look good, but hope springs eternal.

Maybe, just maybe, their dear mother will turn a corner. All day, they eagerly study the doctor's facial expressions, praying to see a reciprocated hope. Finally, Dr. Edward Davis, an old family friend and Woodrow's former classmate, delivers the bad news. Ellen is indeed dying. It hits the first family hard, even the stoic intellectual Woodrow. Nell will never forget this moment, later writing, quote, father did not speak, but for the first and only time in my life, I saw him weep. Close quote.

Two days pass. During this time, the last Wilson sister, Jessie, arrives, and the family spends every moment possible at Ellen's side as she drifts in and out of consciousness, blissfully unaware of the great war's beginning. As Nell puts it so perfectly, it was like a terrible nightmare. blissfully unaware of the great war's beginning. As Nell puts it so perfectly, it was like a terrible nightmare. Europe in flames,

and all hope fading from our own hearts. Occasionally, presidential duties force Woodrow from his wife's side. Sometimes waking during these brief absences, Ellen grows restless and asks her daughters, is your father looking well? She also asks if Congress has acted on the bill, well, her bill, to clean up the worst of the slums of Washington, D.C.

and make life better for impoverished residents. She's poured her heart and soul into this bill since becoming the First Lady a year and a half ago. Even as death knocks, her commitment to it holds. It's now the afternoon of August 6th. News arrives from Congress. Ellen's bill passed. The Alley Dwelling Act is now a law. Hearing this, she manages to smile. The frail First Lady then shares a small moment with Dr. Carrie Grayson. She beckons the talented surgeon who served so many past presidents

to come close, and she manages to whisper, Doctor, if I go away, promise me you will take good care of my husband. Her bill is passed. She knows Woodrow is in good hands. With that knowledge, Ellen slips again into unconsciousness. With her husband and daughters gathered around the bed, the beloved mother, wife, and gentle first lady draws her last breath at 5 p.m. Tears stream down the broken-hearted president's cheeks as he asks Dr. Grayson, Is it over? The doctor nods.

Now a widower, Woodrow rises and strides over to an open window. There he stands and amid sobs, questions. Oh my God, what am I to do? Ellen's body lies in state in the East Room. She's soon interred at Myrtle Hill Cemetery in Rome, Georgia. Grief and depression wash over the president in a way unlike any he's ever known. One night in New York, as Woodrow and the honorary Colonel Edward House return to the

Waldorf Astoria, the heartbroken president tells his close-held political advisor that he wishes someone would have killed him while they were out. Woodrow's depression is only matched by his guilt as he begins questioning if his presidency brought this on. He can't help but wonder, had they stayed in Princeton, New Jersey, would his wife still be alive? He occupies this dark space for months. It's now February 1915. Woodrow Wilson and the surgeon who attended Ellen Wilson as she died, Dr. Carrie Grayson, are driving down Connecticut Avenue in Washington, D.C. They pass an attractive, dark-haired woman, perhaps in her 40s. As they do, Carrie waves to her.

Curious, the president asks his good friend, Who is that beautiful lady? Carrie is shocked. Woodrow has hardly said an unnecessary word for half a year, but that's all the encouragement he needs. The good doctor is now ready to play love doctor. The woman's name is Edith Bolling Galt. Yes, she's physically attractive, but she's every bit as impressive as a person.

The years-long widow of a successful jeweler, Edith took over the business after her husband's death. And now, in a time when women in many states still can't vote, she is a successful businesswoman. She's also proud to be Washington, D.C.'s first female motorist. That's right. She loves driving her electric car around town. In short, Edith is intelligent, outgoing, funny, and charming. Now, Kerry means no disrespect to Ellen Wilson's memory. He's genuinely motivated by his worry for Woodrow's mental health

and desire to honor the promise he made to Ellen moments before she slipped away to take care of the president. So if there's a chance Edith can lift the morose commander-in-chief back to his old self, Carrie wants to see that happen. It takes a great deal of effort in colluding with Woodrow's cousin and informal fill-in first lady, Helen Bones, but they arrange for the widow and widower to accidentally bump into each other at the White House that March. And wouldn't you know it, at tea time no less, the two lonely souls hit it off. Spring comes and goes, as does most of summer, and as they court, Woodrow finds meaning again. When they announce their engagement to the family, Woodrow's daughters are over the moon. Considering how Edith's presence has given them their father back, they completely approve. they announce their engagement to the family, Woodrow's daughters are over the moon. Considering

how Edith's presence has given them their father back, they completely approve. But with the election of 1916 only a year out, Woodrow's political advisors can't help but wonder, will the American public approve? They decide to delay, if not derail, the approaching nuptials by bringing up another woman, Mary Peck. Ah yes, Mary. Woodrow met this animated and lively woman on vacation in Bermuda in 1907. Both were there vacationing without their respective spouses. They formed a close friendship and kept up a close correspondence filled with intimate language. Whispers of an affair have flown in recent years, but most future Woodrow Wilson scholars highly doubt or fully dismiss the idea of physical intimacy. They point to a lack of evidence, Woodrow's love for Ellen, religious beliefs,

and demeanor, but you know, I like Theodore Roosevelt's take when his people tried to convince him to bring up the rumors of an affair during the 1912 election. Quote, You can't convince the American people that a man is a Romeo who looks so much like the apothecary's clerk. Close quote. Oh, classic TR. But was there something of an emotional affair? That claim is harder to dismiss, and even if not, the fact remains that the humanities-trained professor should have toned down the expressive language. Understandably, then, Woodrow's advisors think that, given the rumors out there already, Woodrow would be piling on to have a quick engagement after his wife's death. It's a terrible idea, especially right before the 1916 election. So they handle

this with all the integrity and maturity you'd expect. They lie to the president, telling him that cash-strapped Mary is offering to sell their correspondence to the highest bidder. Heartbroken, Woodrow tells Edith about his friendship with Mary. He assures his fiancée that he was always faithful to Ellen and begs her to stand by him now. Edith takes a day to think. She then writes to Woodrow, This is my pledge, dearest one. I will stand by you. Not for duty, not for pity, not for honor, but for love. Huh, that didn't play the way Colonel Edward House and the crew expected. So, leaving out how they super lied to him,

the honorary colonel tells Woodrow, things will probably be all right. Maybe Mary won't sell those letters. The White House announces their engagement the next month, October 1915, and the happy couple weds that December. None of Mary's letters come forward, since, of course, it was all lies, nor is the nation scandalized. Woodrow beats Republican candidate Charles Evans Hughes in 1916,

and it's during that second term that the nation enters World War I. Thus, we come to the end of our not exhaustive but rather complete telling of Woodrow Wilson's presidency outside of World War I. What do we make of it? First, on the domestic front, we can see that the progressive movement has only picked up steam by the time of Woodrow's presidency. Constitutional amendments are hard to pass by design, so seeing two back-to-back alterations to the nation's foundational document, the first one since the Reconstruction era, is evidence of massive support. The same can be said of the later two progressive amendments, though I'll just note their existence since we've already done a full episode on the 19th, and the 18th is, well, a story better saved for another day. Then we get to the professor's presidency itself.

Woo! From the Federal Reserve to the FTC and other laws that we didn't detail today. The first federal workman's compensation law, a federal law making child labor illegal, as well as a federally mandated eight-hour workday. This stuff just doesn't happen without significant support from the American people and Congress. It is ironic that the states' right-supporting southern-born president ended up going a more federal-strengthening Roosevelt route in the process, but he delivered what the movement wanted and further solidified the Democratic Party as the political home for progressives. Second, the true irony. Foreign affairs. The irony of fate struck the inexperienced president

indeed. Adding to the irony of Woodrow's presidency being foreign-focused by World War I is his fall into the same quote-unquote benevolent imperialism he had so long critiqued. Indeed, beyond those nations I've already mentioned, Haiti, Mexico, and the Dominican Republic, the anti-imperialist and idealist president ultimately sent the military to intervene in other nations more than the Taft or Roosevelt administrations. Woodrow's other interventions included Cuba, Panama, and, on several occasions, banana-growing Honduras. While scholars tend to agree that Woodrow genuinely meant to help these nations,

U.S. corporations corporations like the United Fruit Company proved the real beneficiaries of these interventions. Yet, let me caution against casting the professor too firmly in the benevolent imperialist mold. He attempted to apologize for the United States' role in Colombia's loss of Panama. He even wanted to provide financial compensation. Rough-riding TR was insulted, and the Senate stopped this, but Latin American nations took notice.

Woodrow Wilson also floated the idea of a Pan-American Treaty. Ah, there's a taste of the liberal internationalism that defines the foreign policy thinking now known as Wilsonianism. And if that last sentence just sounded like academic jargon, no worries. I'll explain those terms later, after the Great War. And that war, my friends, is where we must go now. It's time for us to cross the Atlantic, to head to the European continent, where once green farm fields are becoming grim, trench-laced fields of death.

Where new, advanced technology, ranging from artillery to machine guns to tanks, planes, and gas, are killing and maiming so many young men. We will soon talk of a lost generation. Yes, next time, we begin the First World War. Thank you. Joe Dovis, John Frugal-Dougal, John Boovey, John Keller, John Oliveros, John Radlavich, John Schaefer, John Sheff, Jordan Corbett, Joshua Steiner, Justin M. Spriggs, Justin May, Kristen Pratt, Karen Bartholomew, Cassie Conecco, Kim R., Kyle Decker, Lawrence Neubauer, Linda Cunningham, Mark Ellis, Matthew Mitchell, Matthew Simmons, Melanie Jan, Nick Seconder, Nick Caffrel, Noah Hoff, Owen Sedlak, Paul Goringer, Randy Guffrey, Reese Humphreys-Wadsworth, Rick Brown, Sarah Trawick, Samuel Lagasa, Sharon Thiesen, Sean Baines, Steve Williams, Creepy Girl, and Zach Jackson.