History That Doesn't Suck - 73: Reconstruction (Part 1): The Impeachment of Andrew Johnson

Episode Date: September 14, 2020

“You are placed in a position where you have the power to save or destroy us; to bless or blast us--I mean our whole race.” This is the story of the first US Presidency to end in impeachment. This is the story of Andrew Johnson. The post-Civil War government of the United States faces difficult decisions. Should it be lenient to former Confederate states? Or should it take a hard hand? Should the Federal government play a role in reconstructing state governments (Reconstruction)? Or should it leave the states to their own devices? Slavery’s over, but does that mean black Americans are equal citizens with white Americans? Or can states enact laws, called “Black Codes,” that only apply to its black residents? Can states deny them the vote? These are the questions facing VP-turned-President Andrew Johnson, and he doesn’t seem to agree with Congress on much. Can Congress impeach and convict him for firing War Secretary Edwin Stanton? Or will the case fall apart? We’ll find out.  ____ 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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Subscribe to Conflicted wherever you get your podcasts. 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 just past 12 noon, July 30th, 1866,

and New Orleans is on a knife edge. 25 of the original delegates from Louisiana's 1864 Constitutional Convention are meeting at the Mechanics Institute. They want to change the state constitution. Supporting them are 200 to 300 black Louisianans, mostly Civil War veterans, who marched here with fife and drum bearing an American flag. Both inside and outside, they're armed, mostly with canes and clubs. About 10% of them have guns. Just down the block, at the corner of Dryad Street, Roosevelt Way in the 21st century, and Canal Street, a thousand or more angry white New Orleanians scream, swear, and angrily shake their own weapons, including revolvers, in the air.

Wow. Alright, time out. This needs a little unpacking. The incredible tension here is over who votes and therefore governs Louisiana. See, the state's 1864 constitution did not make black men equal citizens. Sure, it prohibited slavery. It didn't give the vote to black men, though. That didn't bother Governor J. Madison Wells or some of the men in this room at the time. But that was also before President Andrew Johnson's amnesty proclamation gave the vote back to almost all ex-Confederate soldiers and leaders. So now, the Louisiana born and raised unionist governor and moderates alike are realizing that, if they don't want to lose their offices to former rebels, they need to align with the radical Republicans and give black men the vote.

So to that end, these former state constitutional delegates, some radical, others realists, have gathered to reopen the convention. They're doing so under a legally dubious technicality that no court would likely ever uphold. But this Hail Mary play is likely their last chance to enfranchise black men and disenfranchise the ex-Confederates. And given those stakes, no wonder everyone is up in arms. Literally. Okay, back to the story.

It's just shy of one o'clock on this blistering hot summer day. A boy, maybe 13 years old, breaks from the white crowd on Canal Street and approaches the black convention supporters in front of the Mechanics Institute. Damn sons of bitches, he yells. Details are hazy and sources conflict, but it appears the boy likely grabbed bricks from a nearby construction site and threw them at the black supporters. Now, the black Civil War vets have been taunted by this crowd for the past hour.

Their weapons are few and intended for defense. But as nerves fray and tempers rise, some club-willing veterans move toward the youth. Seeing this, a police officer grabs the kid. Hang the white son of a bitch, some in the black crowd holler. No, no, let him go. Others in Canal Street's white crowd scream back. Bricks and stones begin to fly between both groups. No, I can't tell you who threw what first. Neither sources nor historians agree on that, just as they can't agree on who fires first.

One black man drops dead, another mortally wounded. The white crowd falls back, carrying their wounded, then regroups and moves in on the outnumbered black crowd. Alarms sound throughout the city. Police and firemen answer the call. Now, some do their duty. Writing for the New York Times, E.P. Brooks will later report that many inside the Mechanics Institute,

black and white, only survive because of a, quote, few gallant and chivalric policemen, close quote. Sadly, they are in the minority. More policemen, some wearing their old Confederate army belt buckles and concealing their badge numbers now lead the attack. By this point, the Black Convention supporters have taken refuge inside the Mechanics Institute with the white delegates and supporters. Seeing the street clear, some try to step outside, only to find themselves fired upon

by the white mob and the police. The few black men outside with guns return fire, but are quickly forced back into the building. In the main hall, Delegate R. King Cutler addresses the terrified group. Gentlemen, all of you, sit down. We are peaceably assembled. Do not move. Boston Transplant, Reverend Jotham Horton, exhorts them in the same way.

Sit down, says the New Englander. Put your trust in God. The delegates and mostly black supporters leave the double doors to the large chamber open, then sit, peacefully, ready to submit to arrest. A few minutes later, three officers arrive at the doorway. They aim their pistols at the group, and without a word, they fire. For God's sake, don't shoot us. We are peaceable. Some in the room call out, for God's sake, do not fire anymore. Delegate Cutler pleads, but they keep shooting. I am shot. New York-born delegate A.P. Dostey cries

as a bullet rips through his arm. The policemen fire until they run out of ammo. When they fall back to reload, survivors run forward, pull shut, and try to secure the door. But it won't hold. When the police return to the chamber, an officer exclaims, Now, boys, we have got them. Give it to them.

And with that, they advance while firing. The police continue to attack and retreat to reload in successive waves. The delegates and their supporters try various tactics. Some hold a white flag out the window, only to be shot at. Others return fire, but they don't have nearly enough guns to compete with the mob and police. Some fight back with chairs and other makeshift weapons. A few dash out the front door, only for the mob to shoot and beat them to death.

Others slip out the back or jump from windows with various degrees of success. Many of them are shot dead in the streets. Some local black residents, who have nothing to do with the convention, become targets too. One elderly black man with no knowledge of the nearby convention is surprised and scared to find half a dozen civilians chasing him down the street When they catch him, the elder asks What is it, Massa? Their only answer is to shoot a hole in his head at point-blank range As the hours pass, the delegates are arrested

but the police don't always protect them When they emerge from the building with the delegate shot in the arm earlier, A.P. Dosti, the crowd chants, kill him, kill him. The police respond by releasing him to the mercy of the crowd. You assassins! The New York transplant cries as he dodges a flying brick.

While begging the police for protection, a bullet tears through his spinal column. He drops to the ground. The mob seizes his legs and drags him to the corner of Canal Street, where they let out a spontaneous cheer for the former Confederate president, Jefferson Davis. More than two hours after it began,

the orgy of violence only ends with the arrival of federal troops. A.P. Dostey dies about a week later. By most accepted death tolls, he's one of three Republicans killed today. Black New Orleanians make up the other 34 deaths, as well as most of the well over 100 injured. Outnumbered and only armed for minimal defense,

the convention supporters and delegates weren't prepared for this melee. As General Philip Sheridan put it in his telegraph to General Ulysses S. Grant, the more information I obtain of the affair of the 30th in this city, the more revolting it becomes. It was no riot. It was an absolute massacre. 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 Today, we venture into the first of a few episodes that will take us through one of the least well-known eras of American history, Reconstruction.

This is the decade and change after the Civil War, during which the United States grapples with hard questions about readmitting the seceded states and what the end of the institution of slavery really means. And as you can tell from that opening, these won't be easy questions to answer, and violence didn't end with the war. But I won't get ahead of myself. In this episode, I'll stick to the story of Reconstruction under President Andrew Johnson. That means heading back a little over a year to the heartbreaking night when Andy found himself the sudden and unexpected successor of our dearly beloved and departed 16th president, Abraham Lincoln. Once we hear his side of that horrid night, I'll give you an oh-so-brief recap of Reconstruction under the Illinois Rail Splitter, then proceed with how Andy seizes the reins of Reconstruction under the Illinois Rail Splitter, then proceed with how Andy seizes the reins of Reconstruction, alienates Congress, and manages to get himself impeached. It's a

fascinating tale. Ready for it? Let's do it. Rewind. It's late on the night of April 14th, 1865. Vice President Andrew Johnson, more familiarly as Andy, is sleeping soundly in his suite at the Kirkwood House, utterly unaware that he breathes only because an assassin lost his nerve and walked away from the hotel's bar around 10 p.m. But a knock at the door wakes him. It's Leonard J. Farwell.

Talking fast, the former Wisconsin governor informs the VP from Tennessee that Lincoln's been shot. Grief overcomes the pair. Andy and Leonard embrace and cry. Like so many others, Andy goes to Lincoln, but he doesn't stay long by the unconscious president's deathbed at the Peterson boarding house. Knowing all too well how much First Lady Mary Lincoln hates Andy, Senator Charles Sumner

encourages him to pay his respects while she's still in the other room and quickly leave. The VP understands. He does just that. Andy returns to his room at the Kirkwood House. At 10 o'clock the following morning, about a dozen or so men, members of Congress, the Lincoln cabinet, and close friends, gather in the hotel's parlor where they bear witness as Chief Justice Salmon P. Chase swears in Andrew Johnson as the 17th President of the United States. This done, the men offer their melancholy congratulations

to their new president. May God guide, support, and bless you in your arduous duties, the balding Supreme Court justice solemnly says to the president. God help him indeed. Andy just inherited the nightmare of reconstructing the post-war United States.

Now, Andy isn't starting the process. Most current historians, including myself, prefer to say Lincoln kicked off Reconstruction back in 1863. Yes, the United States was still embroiled in war, but the Union had regained control of significant seceded sections. This left the rail splitter embarking on a task as difficult as repairing a post-fall Humpty Dumpty, putting the nation together again.

Perhaps a president and his or her cabinet can do better than a king and all his men. And horses? Hmm, maybe relying on the ingenuity of horses was half the king's problem in that whole Humpty Dumpty situation. But I digress. Here's a quick rehash slash reminder

of Reconstruction under Lincoln. He effectively started the process with the proclamation of amnesty and reconstruction on December 8th, 1863. This offered a pardon and restoration of all property minus enslaved human beings to all persons who have, directly or by implication, participated in the existing rebellion. To qualify, the recipient had to swear loyalty to the United States and accept the end of slavery. Remember, this is after the Emancipation Proclamation. If 10% of white males aged 21 and older in a seceded state did so, they could take the first steps to reforming a state government. Radical Republicans in Congress thought Lincoln was being far too generous, that he was giving the keys of the kingdom back to traitors. As you might recall from episode 66,

they countered with the Wade-Davis bill, which demanded that a majority of a seceded state's population take a harsher, ironclad oath that, frankly, many, if not most Southerners, even if repentant, couldn't take without lying. Congress passed it. Lincoln pocket vetoed it, which is to say that, in accordance with Article 1, Section 7 of the U.S. Constitution, he sat on it for 10 days, excluding Sundays, while Congress wasn't in session. This killed the bill, and Union-held Louisiana continued to reconstruct under Lincoln's more lenient plan. The Bayou State crafted and ratified a constitution that same year, which prohibited slavery, provided education for children regardless of color, but, as I'm sure you recall from today's

opening, did not enfranchise black men. They left that decision to the yet-to-be-elected legislators. Lincoln saw Louisiana as evolving. You may recall from episode 72 that he defended its process in the last speech he ever gave. But you may also recall that in that exact same speech, he called for giving the vote to black veterans and other intelligent, that is, literate, black men. And during that same week of April 1865, he had a spirited conversation with his cabinet about military governments over Virginia and North

Carolina that showed him carefully weighing leniency against pressing reform. Meanwhile, Lincoln had used his influence vigorously to shepherd the slave-ending 13th Amendment through Congress. He'd signed off on the March 1865 establishment of the Bureau of Refugees, Freedmen, and Abandoned Lands, or Freedmen's Bureau for short, which was helping formerly enslaved blacks, as well as poor Southern whites,

to find food, shelter, and employment. It's hard not to romanticize what Lincoln might have done had John Wilkes Booth not ended him with a bullet in Ford's theater. Americans of all stripes, from radical Republicans to former Confederates, will wonder what might have been, and claim their vision of Reconstruction best aligns with the deceased Illinois rail splitter. But as much as we can speculate on how his political genius may have delivered the reforms black Americans deserved and needed, along with the graciousness ex-Confederates craved, we'll never really know.

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to stay in U.S. Congress despite his state seceding. And he's a Southerner who has no love for the Southern aristocracy that led the Confederacy. His early actions as president confirm this, too. Out of consideration for the suddenly widowed first lady, Mary Todd Lincoln, he defers on moving into the White House. Meanwhile, he asks Lincoln's whole cabinet to stay on. And he also doesn't mince words on how he feels

about those who turn from the stars and stripes for the stars and bars. Traitors must be impoverished. They must not only be punished, but their social power must be destroyed, Andy proclaims. He puts a $100,000 bounty out for the capture of Jefferson Davis.

Damn. Add to that, he proves himself something of a diplomat as he handles a spat between War Secretary Edwin Stanton and General William Tecumseh Sherman. Okay. Andy's really taking the ball

and running with it. Even radical Senator Charles Sumner is feeling good about the new president. His feelings won't last long, though. On May 29th, Andy issues two important proclamations. First, we have the Amnesty Proclamation. In it, the Tennessee tailor gives blanket amnesty, that is, a restoration of civil, political, voting rights, to nearly all ex-Confederates that take a loyalty oath. There are 14 exclusions to this. These include Confederates who quit Congress to join the rebellion, hold degrees from elite military schools, held high ranks in the CS Army or Navy, or have slash had a net worth of $20,000 or more. Even then, they could still get a pardon if they'll petition Andy personally.

And they do. Among the first to beg Andy's forgiveness is none other than George E. Pickett of the Battle of Gettysburg's Pickett's Charge fame. Within the next 18 months, Andy will pardon and restore voting rights to some 15,000 former rebels who fall within his 14 exceptions. Meanwhile, Andy's second proclamation also has far-reaching implications for Reconstruction. Citing the U.S. Constitution's Article 4, Section 4 guarantee that every state in this union shall have, quote, a Republican form of government, close quote. The president establishes a provisional governor for North Carolina and requires him to convene delegates to prepare a state constitution. Only those who took

the loyalty oath and were previously eligible to vote will elect delegates. In other words, black male southerners will not get to vote for delegates. Andy quickly issues similar proclamations regarding the other seceded states. Guess what? None of these state conventions enfranchise black men. And when we combine this factor with the first proclamation, well, you can see how these rapidly forming state governments are filling seats with ex-rebels. Again, just think of this episode's opening scene in New Orleans. Okay, that leaves a bit to unpack. First, what happened to Andy's hardball talk about punishing rebels? Andy does hate the aristocracy who led the rebellion, but not the poor common man. So sure, arrest Jeff Davis,

but the average Confederate soldier? Not so much. His heart is with his place of origin, poor white Southerners. Second, don't confuse Andy's loyalty to the U.S. with the belief that all people should have civil rights regardless of color. Nor should we forget that being free and having full legal rights aren't the same thing. So even though the president's one big

requirement for former confederate states regarding their standing in the union is to ratify the 13th amendment, okay that and maybe repudiating war debts, he also sees no problem leaving black men without the vote. White men alone must govern the South, Andy tells one Democratic senator. Furthermore, while Andy's racism exceeds that of many of his contemporaries, he isn't as out of step with the times as we might wish. Let's not make the mistake of thinking most black men in the North enjoy the vote. As 1865 wears on, Andy takes further steps to ensure his presidential reconstruction

prevents any revolutionary changes. That summer, Andy counsels out Generals Oliver Howard and William Tecumseh Sherman's redistribution of Confederate farmland to former slaves. Forty acres and a mule was the promise made to these Black farmers. Instead, the president restores these lands to its ex-rebel owners. And as the new Southern state governments fill with former Confederates, their legislatures begin producing laws

that impose restrictions only on Black residents. For instance, some states proceed to define unemployed Black Americans as, quote-unquote, vagrants. These state governments also gave themselves the right to then auction off the labor contract of said unemployed black people to a planter. Ah, I trust we can all see how this is pretty much slavery with a different name, right?

By the way, ex-rebs aren't just winning municipal and state offices. Thanks to the general amnesty and individual pardons, they hold over 60 seats in Congress. When it convenes in December 1865, the 39th U.S. Congress contains former Confederate congressmen, state officials,

colonels, generals, members of Jefferson Davis' cabinet, and even former CSA vice president, Alexander H. Stevens. I don't have a quote for you, but I assume that a few radical Republican senators, maybe Thaddeus Stevens or Charles Sumner, got to D.C., took a look around, and said something like, I thought we won the war. What the actual f**k? Looks like Andy's plan isn't reconstructing. As historian Annette Gordon-Reed will later put it, this is restoring. So as we enter 1866, Congress is definitely a bit

miffed. While the legislature's been in recess, he's been stomping on congressional restructuring plans and refusing to give them a say by calling a special session. Now they come back to find some 60-odd new colleagues who were literally considered to be in a state of rebellion against the United States as recently as earlier this same year. Congress flat out refuses these southern gentlemen their congressional seats. It sets up a joint committee on Reconstruction to investigate and figure out what's going on in the South and whether or not these newly elected members of Congress should in fact be seated. Beyond the question of what is morally right, many in Congress listen to this and believe they have

a legal right to act. In their eyes, secession put the states back at territory status, and thus, under the purview of Congress. Andy, however, refutes this. He believes that secession is illegal, and therefore, the states cannot and never did, in fact, secede. Hence, the need to restore them rapidly, and for Reconstruction to fall under his executive authority. Meanwhile, President Andrew Johnson's relationship with Congress continues to unravel as he vetoes two of Senator Lyman Trumbull's early 1866 bills. One will extend the life of the soon-to-expire Freedmen's Bureau and expand its ability to protect black Americans. The other is the Civil Rights Bill.

With the noted exception of indigenous peoples, a story for another day, I promise, it pushes back against the black codes to expand the definition of national citizens to include all of any race born in the United States. In doing so, it gives federal courts the ability to enforce the civil rights of black Americans. Andy vetoes both bills. Moderate Republicans are stunned. If nothing else, the Freedmen's Bureau bill was rather mild, yet Andy seems incapable of compromise. We could call him stubborn.

He'd call himself principled. Either way, his vetoes fail. Andy curses Republican leaders and calls them traitors as they harness the power of a two-thirds majority to overpower him. Still, legislators and engaged Americans remain hopeful at this point that they can have a dialogue with Andy, that he can come to at least some sort of middle ground. This includes our old friend, Frederick Douglass, who takes on the task. Now, his one interaction with Andy to date was a year ago at Lincoln's second inauguration.

Happy to see Frederick, the Illinois rail splitter got Andy's attention and pointed out his abolitionist friend in the crowd. Andy appeared to scowl. Nonetheless, Frederick is prepared to meet and talk with the Tennessee tailor. He leads a delegation of 13 men, 12 black, one white, on February 7th. The delegation arrives at the White House. New Englander George T. Downing, who serves as the manager of the House of Representatives dining room, opens with a warm, confident, yet friendly tone. We cherish the hope that we may be fully enfranchised throughout the land, he tells the president. Well, so far so good.

Andy likes George's kindness. Now Frederick chimes in. In the order of divine providence, you are placed in a position where you have the power to save or destroy us, to bless or blast us. I mean our whole race. Your noble and humane predecessor placed in our hands the sword to assist in saving the nation. And we do hope that you, his able successor, will favorably regard the placing in our hands the ballot with which to save ourselves. Oh dear. Frederick is eloquent as ever, but he's

unknowingly hit a nerve. See, Andy is a bit insecure being in Lincoln's shoes, and that reference to the greatness of his predecessor isn't going over well. Andy lets loose with quite the rant. Heads up, this gets awkward. Like Michael Scott on the TV show, The Office. Awkward. Here's a little sample. He begins by professing his love of black people, saying that he served his own former slaves more than they did him. If I know myself and the feelings of my own heart,

they have been for the colored man. I have owned slaves and bought slaves, but I never sold one. Ooh. He goes on for what could be the rest of the episode, but let me try to sum this up. Andy offers himself as a biblical Moses figure to black Americans. He suggests that poor whites have had it worse than enslaved blacks. And at one point he asks Frederick, Have you ever lived upon a plantation?

Kind of an awkward thing to ask a famous formerly enslaved American with two published autobiographies that detail his life on a plantation. I have, Your Excellency, Frederick calmly answers. Offering a defense of calling black suffrage a state issue, Andy makes an argument for democracy that you and I might consider the tyranny of the majority. I might go down to the ballot box tomorrow and vote directly for universal suffrage, but if a great majority of the people said no, I should consider it would be tyrannical in me to attempt to force such upon them without their will. Is there anything wrong or unfair in

that? Frederick disagrees kindly but firmly. A great deal wrong, Mr. President. With all respect. As their conversation, or rather politely worded argument continues, it becomes clear that Andy sees poor whites as oppressed by the aristocracy, but can't or won't grasp Frederick's view that enfranchised blacks and poor whites could help each other. Frederick can see that it's hopeless to try to move Andy on the issue. The president sends us to the people, and we will have to go and get the people right,

he remarks to another delegate as they leave. Andy overhears them. He's pissed. Once Frederick and his delegation are gone, he turns to his secretary and vents his full frustration. Those damn sons of bitches thought they had me in a trap. I know that damn Douglas. He's just like any n***a,

and he would sooner cut a white man's throat than not. To close, let me quote Frederick Douglass' biographer, David Blight, on this exchange. Quote, Johnson's rambling replies stand as perhaps the worst exchange an American president ever conducted in person with African American leaders. Close quote. It's no wonder that Congress decides it can't trust Andy to uphold or enforce the Civil Rights Act. What's needed, it decides, is a constitutional

amendment. This brings us to the 14th Amendment. Congress drafts it across the first six months of 1866. Yes, it takes that long to work out, and it's still five clauses long. Let me give you the main points. The first section, the real heart of the amendment, states, quote, all persons born or naturalized in the United States and subject to the jurisdiction thereof are citizens of the United States, close quote. It then prohibits states from depriving any citizen of due process under the law. The second section reduces a state's representation in direct proportion to the number of male, white or black but not Native American, citizens denied the vote. This is significant because without it, the previous three-fifths compromise would continue to benefit

the former Confederate states. The third section goes on to prevent any CSA supporter from serving in Congress, and the fourth portion outright stops the U.S. from paying any CSA supporter from serving in Congress. And the fourth portion outright stops the U.S. from paying any CSA war debts. The final clause gives Congress the right to enforce the first four. Whew, that's a lot of legalese. Most congressmen are happy with their work and send this amendment out to the states on June 18th. However, the inclusion of the word male in the second section causes a schism in the previously linked abolitionist and feminist movements.

Elizabeth Cady Stanton and many other women believe this will set their women's suffrage work back a generation. Disillusioned and frustrated, Elizabeth states that to move her cause forward, quote, women must not put her trust in man. Close quote.

Even with a snub to women and indigenous people, the 14th Amendment marks a major shift in American thought. The idea that the federal government, which the founding fathers feared for its ability to impose tyranny a la British monarchy style on the states,

should or could protect civil rights is somewhat mind-blowing. While the Constitution uses the phrase, citizen of the United States in discussing eligibility for federal offices, concerns over a citizen's rights have really been a state issue to this point. With the passage of this amendment, we are witnessing a shift in American political, legal thought, and federalism. And this change perturbs the president. By summer of 1866,

Andy is struggling to keep his head above water and fight congressional reconstruction. The hard-drinking president needs some allies in his corner, so he makes some changes in the cabinet that he inherited from Lincoln. But one less than loyal cabinet member remains, Lincoln's god of war, Edwin Stanton. The two men butt heads on almost every issue

in the New York Herald reports, quote, they differ on questions of national policy as widely as it is possible for two men to differ. Close quote. The July 30th riot in New Orleans, which you heard about at the beginning of this episode, causes the rift between the president

and the secretary of war, Edwin, to widen. And that riot is not an isolated incident. Racially motivated violence occurs all over the South, like the Memphis riot in which 46 people die and 89 homes in black communities are burned down. The negative political backlash from these riots lands squarely in the president's lap, taking the feeling between the president and the secretary of war from frosty to downright frigid. It also doesn't help that Andy has basically switched political parties.

Well, switched back? His time as a loyal Republican VP to President Lincoln was basically a blip in Andy's lifelong Democratic resume. As 1866 comes to a close, Andy's done working with Republicans and tries to get back in the good graces of Democrats. But Republicans sweep the congressional midterm elections, and so, as 1867 opens, the president has almost no allies in Congress, and he still has Edwin Stanton in his cabinet. This could get rough. In February 1867, Congress takes a shot across the president's bow, warning him that they mean to limit executive power and move toward their own version of Reconstruction. To start, they pass the Tenure of Office Act. I won't bore you with the details, but in short, the bill somewhat unclearly states any cabinet member who requires Senate confirmation

to be seated will need Senate confirmation to be removed. This is really a thinly veiled attempt to hem in Andy and protect Edwin Stanton's tenuous position. Funny enough, Edwin doesn't want this kind of help. He's made it this far acting as a check on the president's reconstruction plans. When Andy asks Edwin what he thinks of the bill, the war secretary remarks, any man who would retain his seat in the cabinet as an advisor when his advice was not wanted was unfit for the place. On March 2nd, Andy vetoes the bill. He also vetoes the Reconstruction Act of 1867, which appoints five military governors to govern five southern districts. The generals will

oversee state constitutional conventions, and the bill requires states to ratify the 14th Amendment and give suffrage to black men before they can be fully readmitted to the Union. Andy thinks the bill goes too far and explains, the Negroes have not asked for the privilege of voting and the vast majority of them have no idea what it means. I think more than a few people in New Orleans would disagree with that statement. And what's becoming a predictable pattern,

Congress overrides both of Andy's vetoes and the Tenure of Office and Reconstruction Acts go into effect. Andy doesn't even try to hide his frustration or racism. In an interview with the editor of the New York Evening Post, the president calls the Reconstruction bill, nothing but anarchy and chaos that the people of the South, poor, quiet, unoffending, harmless, were to be trodden underfoot to protect n****s. With quips like that showing up in print, newly elected congressmen don't dare leave the president unsupervised to implement the new Reconstruction Plan.

So, literally, as soon as the 39th Congress adjourns on March 4th, the 40th Congress begins its session. They pass the second and third Reconstruction Acts. As Congress adjourns in late July, Zachariah Chandler grumbles that Republicans have only, quote, undertook to surround Johnson with nets, to hem him in. This Congress seems to hope that the same animal

that thrust his paw through the net when it was new will not thrust it through again when it is merely a patched net, close quote. Zach seems pretty clairvoyant. As soon as congressmen leave town, Andy starts looking for ways around the newly enacted executive limiting legislation. In early August, Andy writes to Edwin,

public considerations of high character constrain me to say that your resignation as Secretary of War will be accepted. Edwin refuses. Like I said, he sees himself as a necessary roadblock to Andy's reconstruction agenda. But the stubborn president won't back down. If he can't get Edwin to resign and he can't fire him without senatorial consent, he'll suspend the Secretary of War. And while he's at it, the portly president also replaces a few military governors who have been pissing him off of late.

Andy names General-in-Chief Ulysses Grant as interim Secretary of War until he can get a new one appointed early next year. Ulysses agrees, but by November, Edwin is working on a plan to get back to work. As the Georgia Weekly Telegraph disapprovingly comments, quote, Stanton is arranging with his friends for a conflict with President Johnson. He is determined, if possible, to force himself back into the position from whence he was kicked out. Close quote. know that General George Washington was crossing the Delaware and would soon attack his forces. The next day, when Raw 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. Was the Sphinx 10,000 years old? Were there serial killers in ancient Greece and Rome? What were the lives of transgender, intersex, and non-binary people like in the ancient world? We're Jen. And Jenny.

From Ancient History Fangirl. We tell you true stories and tall tales of the ancient world. Sometimes we do it tipsy. Sometimes we have amazing guests on our show. Historians like Barry Strauss, podcasters like Liv Albert, Mike Duncan, and authors like Joanne Harris and Ben Aronovich. We take you to the top of Hadrian's Wall

to watch the Roman Empire fall at the end of the world. We walk the catacombs beneath the temple of the feathered serpent under Teotihuacan. We walk the sacred spirals of the Nazca lines in search of ancient secrets. And we explore mythology from ancient cultures around the world. Come find us at ancienthistoryfangirl.com or wherever you get your podcasts. It's December, 1867. Congress has been in session for only a few weeks, but a few members of the House of Representatives have already written up impeachment articles against Andy. They are chomping at the bit to oust the president. As Speaker of the House Skylar Colfax explains, his wicked advisors have so excited the humble individual that he is

decidedly on the warpath. But cooler heads prevail. Moderate Republicans, while not fans of Andy nor his Reconstruction ideas, can see that Congress doesn't have a legit reason to impeach the president. I mean, one of the impeachment articles actually argues that the president has, quote, corruptly used his veto power. Close quote. As Joe Bluth of Arrested Development would say, come on!

That's pretty flimsy evidence of high crimes and misdemeanors. These impeachment articles die on the House floor before Christmas break. But the Secretary of War's suspension issue remains alive. The somewhat unclear Tenure of Office Act even covers Edwin Stanton. And if the law does apply to Edwin, should he be reinstated? On Friday, January 10, 1868, the Senate Committee on Military Affairs opens that can of worms by calling for Edwin Stanton's reinstatement.

While senators debate the merits of this protocol behind closed doors, the president tries to line up support in his corner. Mostly, Andy just wants Ulysses to agree to remain in the Secretary of War post. But Ulysses is no fool. He's read the Tenure of Office Act, and here's what he knows. Any person who occupies a government post without Senate approval

is subject to a $10,000 fine and up to five years in jail. Yikes. The general is not willing to risk his career and financial security for a seat in the president's cabinet. Ulysses and Andy meet on Saturday. I wish I could tell you exactly what they say,

but alas, nobody took careful notes. After the meeting though, Ulysses will claim, I stated that the law was binding on me, constitutional or not. He leaves the White House under the impression that he will quit his job as Secretary of War if the Senate tells him to. But Andy has the clear idea

that Ulysses will stay in the post and help fight off the, as he sees it, stupid unconstitutional Tenure of Office Act. Oh, good. Another misunderstanding between the president and one of his cabinet members. On Monday, January 13th, the Senate reaches a decision.

That evening, they vote 36-6 to reinstate the God of War, Edwin Stanton, as War Secretary. On Tuesday morning, Ulysses calmly writes a letter to Andy explaining that he's giving up the post, then locks the doors to the Secretary of War's office and heads back to his real job as General-in-Chief of the U.S. Army. Oh, Ulysses, if only it were that easy. Andy summons Ulysses to the previously scheduled cabinet meeting on Tuesday afternoon while Edwin Stanton immediately retakes possession of his office and resumes work. During the cabinet meeting, Andy seethes in anger that Ulysses would just give up the Secretary of War post so easily.

According to some witnesses, Ulysses is so wrong-footed, he stammers and apologizes instead of standing up for himself. Not his finest hour. Any hope Ulysses has that Andy will calmly nominate a replacement for Edwin and that he will be able to quietly exit this power struggle quickly dies. This misunderstanding breaks the last remaining ties between the President and the general-in-chief. The power struggle between the president, Congress, and Edwin Stanton continues to ramp up, but soon, the president will bring the whole episode to a head.

In February, the president finds someone willing to take the embattled secretary of Warspot, Adjutant General Lorenzo Thomas. We met this guy back in episode 61, but since then, he's kind of fallen off the map. Andy's given him a chance to make a name for himself again, and the snowy-haired, lifelong army man takes it. So, on February 21st, Andy announces that he's firing Edwin and replacing him with Lorenzo. Even Andy's supporters are surprised by the move, which will certainly land him in hot water. Our old friend Tecumseh Sherman declares,

He attempts to govern after he has lost the means to govern. He is like a general fighting without an army. Andy sends Lorenzo to the War Department to deliver notice of the ouster in person. It doesn't go quite the way Lorenzo might have hoped. I'm excited to have our friends from the podcast 1865 tell you this part of the story. Mr. Stanton, Mr. Bingham, how do you do, General? Lorenzo Thomas. I'm surprised to see you upright. I was just telling Mr. Bingham I heard you died of drink in the woods of Mississippi. You heard wrong. You'll notice, sir. This is something I never thought I'd have the opportunity to say to you. You're wrong. You'll notice, sir. This is something I never thought I'd have the opportunity to say to you. You're fired. How unfortunate. Mr. Bingham, it seems Mr. Johnson

no longer requires my services. Such a pity. I suppose congratulations are in order, Mr. Thomas. Assuming you're my replacement, of course. You are to vacate your office immediately. I will take possession of the War Department this afternoon. Well, I'll need some time to gather my personal belongings. Be quick. Good day, sir. Secretary Thomas, might I have a copy of the President's termination letter? I don't have a copy.

Oh, dear. Well, that won't do. I require a copy for my records. I'd be happy to make one myself and return the original. I suppose that's a reasonable request. Here, take it. Where will I find you, Mr. Secretary? Beg your pardon? I need to know where to send my men to return the original. I'm staying at the National Hotel.

Thank you, Mr. Secretary, for your courtesy. A kindness I never received from you. I'll call a meeting with the Republican leadership. We'll get to work on the articles of impeachment straight away. I see that you do. Don't worry, Stanton. I'll be back in your office in no time. I'm not leaving my office, Mr. Bingham.

You're not? No. I'm going to barricade myself inside. What? Marshal McPhail! Please tell me you're not serious. Yes, Mr. Secretary. Post guards outside the War Department. No one comes in or out without my permission.

Yes, sir. Take an armed detail to the National Hotel and call on General Thomas. Why are you sending an armed detail? Because he's under arrest. Christ, Stanton, tell me that's not loaded. Drag that fool Lorenzo Thomas to the Capitol Prism and keep him there until I say otherwise. Right away, sir. Is this absolutely necessary?

The game is afoot, Mr. Bingham. Rally the Republicans. It's not a moment to waste. As you heard in this dramatization, Edwin Stanton refuses to leave his office even though he's been fired. He even has Lorenzo arrested for violating the Tenure of Office Act, but the Secretary of War hopeful

will spend only one night in jail. Edwin also sends a note to the House and Senate explaining that Andy has just fired him. Congressmen jump into action. They finally have the president breaking a law outright. Radical Republican representative from Pennsylvania, Thaddeus Stevens, goes around telling his colleagues, didn't I tell you so?

What good did our moderation do you? If you don't kill the beast, it will kill you. And this time, even moderates agree with old Thad. Several people send notes of encouragement to Edwin, telling him to hang on to his post. Senator Charles Sumner's short note reads simply, Stick! A quick aside.

As Edwin prepares to hunker down at his office day and night, he sends a messenger to his house to pick up some blankets and pillows. You know, to get comfortable. But his wife, Ellen, who already thinks Edwin spends too much time at the office and should just quit his job, refuses to lend her husband any bedding. He'll have to wait out this storm without the comforts of home. While bearded, asthmatic Edwin sleeps on his divan without a pillow,

the Senate votes that Edwin Stanton is covered by the Tenure of Office Act. So Andy has acted illegally. House reps immediately draft a motion to impeach Andy. On Monday, February 24th, the House makes history. They vote 128 to 47 to impeach President Andrew Johnson. Alien Representative Thad takes the motion to the Senate.

While snow falls quietly outside, Thad states firmly, In the name of the House of Representatives and all the people of the United States, we do impeach Andrew Johnson, President of the United States of High Crimes and Misdemeanors in Office, and we further inform the Senate that the House of Representatives will, in due time, exhibit articles against him. Now, it's worth making a quick pause here to explain the impeachment process. After all, only three U.S. presidents will be impeached by the year 2020, and Andy tops that short list. The first step to impeachment belongs to the House of Representatives.

According to Article 1, Section 2 of the U.S. Constitution, the House, quote, shall have the sole power of impeachment, close quote. That means the House passes a motion to impeach the president and articles of impeachment outlining his or her crimes. Once those pass, the president is impeached and we move on to the second step of the process, the trial. Going back to the Constitution, Article 1, Section 3 states, So, the Senate tries the President, and if they convict him or her of the crimes outlined in the articles of impeachment with a two-thirds majority, the president is dismissed from office. As I just told you, in February 1868, the House of Representatives impeach a president for the

first time. They then draft 11 articles of impeachment, and the Senate prepares for a trial. Andy also hires a few defense lawyers to answer the charges lobbed against him. But what are those charges? It's obvious Republican congressmen don't like Andy, and even Supreme Court Justice David Davis calls the president, quote, obstinate, self-willed, and combative. Close quote.

Nonetheless, the impeachment articles focus on Andy's violation of the Tenure of Office Act, with eight specifically outlining what the president did wrong when he fired Edwin Stanton. By sticking to how Andy violated the law, Congress sets an important precedent that only illegal actions warrant impeachment. Even so, the articles of impeachment are flawed. As Andy's lawyers prep for the trial, it takes no time at all for them to find the loopholes, inconsistencies, and tenuous arguments in the articles. The president's lawyers also tell Andy that to go through this, he'll need to sit down and shut up. And Andy actually follows their advice. No off-the-cuff speeches railing against Congress. No ill-conceived quotes to the press. Difficult as it may be for him, the president quietly keeps his cards close to his chest. Senate President Pro Tempore Ben Wade invites the seven House Republicans,

including Thad Stevens, to take their seats in the Senate chamber and officially present the 11 articles of impeachment. The next day, Supreme Court Justice Salmon P. Chase officially opens trial proceedings. I won't give you all the details of these early trial days. Let me just tell you, they aren't as exciting as Law & Order. There's no Sam Watterson, no bombshell witnesses, and definitely no awesome

dun-dun sound effect. Anyway, on March 23rd, Andy's lawyers, including prominent and popular Republican William Everts, present their response to the official charges. They make the argument that

Andy couldn't have violated the law when he fired Edwin because the Tenure of Office Act doesn't apply to the Secretary of War. On March 30th, Ben Butler, the balding Civil War general who is now a representative from Massachusetts, presents the prosecution's case. With a passion and panache that would make any TV lawyer proud, Ben makes his points. This then is the plain and inevitable issue before the Senate and the American people. Has the president, under the Constitution, the more than kingly prerogative at will to remove from office and suspend from office indefinitely all executive officers of the United States, either civil, military, or naval, at any and all times, and fill the vacancies with the creatures of his own appointment,

for his own purposes, without any restraint whatever, or possibility of restraint by the Senate or by Congress through laws duly enacted. The House of Representatives, in behalf of the people, joined this issue by affirming that the exercises of such powers is a high misdemeanor in office. Therefore, the momentous question here and now is raised whether the presidential office itself ought, in fact, to exist as a part of the constitutional government of a free people. If that is sustained, then a right and power hereto unclaimed and unknown to the people of the country is engrafted on the constitution, most alarming in its extent, most corrupting in its influence, most dangerous in its tendencies, and most tyrannical in its exercise. Whoever, therefore, votes not

guilty on these articles votes to enchain our free institutions and to prostrate them at the feet of any man who, being president, may choose to control them. Oof. Way to bring the heat, Ben. As newspapers report on the impeachment trial throughout April, their conjectures about Andy's fate are all over the map. The New York Independent claims, the president's friends abandon all hope. Meanwhile, the Chicago Tribune writes that gamblers are wagering huge sums of money on the president's acquittal.

It could go either way. but Andy plays it cool. In fact, Andy's calm and rational behavior during the impeachment trial allows some congressional tempers to cool a bit. Again, from the Chicago Tribune, quote, Andrew Johnson has been a changed man. The country has been at peace. The great obstruction to the law

has been virtually suspended. Close quote. So Senate Republicans start to look at what will happen if Andy is convicted and ousted from office. He has no VP. That means Ben Wade, President pro-temporary of the Senate, is next in line. And yes, he's a loyal radical Republican,

but his economic policies are way out in left field. Furthermore, Ulysses Grant's popularity is still on the rise. Even after the very public spat with Andy, Ulysses has the respect and love of people in the North and South. With such a promising presidential candidate in their pocket, what do Republicans, radical or moderate, have to gain by ousting the Tennessee tailor and putting Ben Wade in the White House for less than a year? Their votes on May 16, 1868, reveal the answer. That day, the Senate votes 19 against conviction, 35 in favor. They needed 36. President Andrew Johnson avoids conviction and dismissal by one vote. The Senate holds

another vote on May 26th on the remaining articles of impeachment. But the results are the same. Andy stays in office. And so, the impeached president becomes a lame duck merely months before the November election. Even though they didn't convict Andy, Congress finally has what they wanted all along, a caged and controlled president. Andy mostly stays out of Congress's way for the remainder of his term. On May 21st, Ulysses S. Grant receives the Republican nomination

as their presidential candidate for the 1868 election. The Democrats pass over Andy and nominate New York Governor Horatio Seymour. To add insult to Andy's injuries, on July 20th, the 14th Amendment gets officially ratified when South Carolina becomes the 28th out of the 37 states to endorse the citizenship-granting amendment. But most of the issues of Reconstruction still loom large. As he takes over the White House, can you list, quell the racial violence and tensions in the South?

Will his prowess on the battlefield translate to the White House? Or will the scandals that rock his administration overshadow Reconstruction? That's a story for next time. HTDS is supported by premium membership fans. You can join by clicking the link in the episode description. My gratitude to you kind souls providing additional funding to help us keep going. Thank you. John Booby, 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 Caffrell, Noah Hoff, Owen Sedlak, Paul Goeringer, Randy Guffrey, Reese Humphries-Wadsworth, Rick Brown, Sarah Trawick, Samuel Lagasa, Sharon Thiesen, Sean Baines,

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