Imagine a brilliant mind, destined for greatness, cut down in its prime. That's the tragic story of James A. Garfield, a US President largely forgotten by history, but whose assassination reveals a fascinating and disturbing chapter in American politics.
Garfield's story gained renewed attention thanks to Candice Millard's meticulous historical account, Destiny of the Republic, which painstakingly details the events leading up to his untimely death. Turning this complex history into compelling television required the skill of producers like Makowsky, who faced the challenge of distilling Millard's deep dive into something accessible for a broad audience. Millard's book delves into everything from the intense factionalism within the Republican Party at the time, to the groundbreaking antiseptic techniques championed by British surgeon Joseph Lister, and even Alexander Graham Bell's attempt to locate the bullet lodged in Garfield's body using an early version of a metal detector. But here's where it gets controversial... Makowsky chose to center the narrative around the stark contrast between Garfield and his assassin, Charles Guiteau. As Makowsky put it, "Both men cared very much about being known. One propels himself to the highest office in the land, whereas the other courts greatness and never achieves it."
So, what drove Guiteau to such a desperate act? The answer lies in a potent mix of delusion, resentment, and unfulfilled ambition.
Guiteau was, by all accounts, a failure. He tried his hand at law, journalism, and even evangelical preaching, failing miserably at each. He even joined a free-love commune, but, as Millard's research chillingly reveals, he was so repulsive that no woman would sleep with him. Despite this string of failures, Guiteau remained convinced that God had destined him for something extraordinary. And this is the part most people miss... This unwavering belief in his own 'specialness', despite all evidence to the contrary, is key to understanding his actions.
Guiteau latched onto Garfield's presidential campaign after his unexpected nomination. Driven by a warped sense of purpose, he traveled to New York in the summer of 1880, convinced he was crucial to Garfield's victory. He relentlessly pestered Garfield's campaign staff, ultimately managing to deliver a single, rambling speech in support of the candidate.
Garfield, to his credit, openly opposed the 'spoils system' – the practice of rewarding political supporters with lucrative government positions. But Guiteau was a firm believer in this very system. He fully expected that, in return for his supposed support, Garfield – now President – would appoint him to a prestigious position, ideally as the Ambassador to France. Imagine the audacity! This delusional man then traveled to Washington, D.C., and became a fixture at the White House, joining the throng of other hopefuls seeking favors. Guiteau even managed to confront Garfield directly in the President's office, handing him a copy of his campaign speech with "Paris Consulship" scrawled on it, drawing a line connecting those words to his own name. The sheer entitlement is staggering.
Meanwhile, Garfield was trying to enact an ambitious vision for the country. He aimed to modernize the US Navy, expand trade with Latin America, and, crucially, advocate for civil rights. In a bold move, he appointed Frederick Douglass, a former slave and prominent social reformer, as the recorder of deeds for the District of Columbia – making Douglass the first African American to hold such a high-ranking federal office. But Garfield also faced significant political opposition. He was locked in a power struggle with Roscoe Conkling, the Republican senator from New York. Conkling was arguably the most powerful politician in the nation, largely due to his control over the massive customs revenue flowing through the port of New York. Conkling opposed Garfield's progressive ideals and his stance against the spoils system. Conkling had already forced Garfield to accept his associate, Chester A. Arthur, as his Vice President. Now, Conkling attempted to block Garfield's Cabinet appointments, creating a constant headache for the new President. What if Garfield hadn't faced such opposition? How different might his presidency – and American history – have been?
Garfield's story is a stark reminder of how ambition, delusion, and political turmoil can converge to alter the course of history. Was Garfield's opposition to the spoils system a noble stance, or was it politically naive, given the realities of the time? Could anything have been done to prevent Guiteau's actions? Share your thoughts and opinions in the comments below!
