1886

 

(All images in this post from blogger's collection: feel free to use.)

January: The American Bell Telephone Company dominates the business and has 330,000 telephones in use. 

As he historian Benjamin Andrews wrote in 1925, “One of the most interesting and valuable inventions of this or any century was that of the telephone,” (4/354)

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March 5: William Least Heat-Moon culled this tale from an old Kansas newspaper, in an attempt to bring the story of the past back to life (from the Chase County Leader): 

 

A Pleasant Affair. 

    In response to invitations to a rainbow party, about 30 friends gathered at the home of Mr. And missus. H. Colette, at elk, on Friday evening, February 28. After the friends had assembled they were led to the dining room where an elegant supper was spread, the table being beautifully decorated with hyacinths and evergreens. When their daughter, miss Lizzie, presented each with a cord representing some color of the rainbow and, pointing to the table, intimated that the price for partaking of the supper would be defined who was at the other end of the cord. They all most eagerly fell to work, thinking how small the price set upon such a repast. After following the cords a short time they found they led to the parlor where their eyes fell on a lovely rainbow tastefully arranged in one corner by the skillful hands of grace and Lizzie. After much admiration and favorable comments someone remarked that when the rainbow appears the rain is over and it would be well to go on with their work.

 

    Turning again to their tasks they were confronted by a mass of cords in the form of a spider web reaching from ceiling to floor, upstairs and down, no one knew where.

 

    It was most amusing to see Bert Campbell tangled in the web and the girl's tightening upon him as a spider with a fly, while Bob Reed was crawling around on the floor, looking like he had been badly knocked out in last week's pillow fight. But all found their coveted prize and a jollier crowd never sat down to a feast, and when leaving the table each carried away a Japanese napkin with the signatures of all present as a souvenir of the occasion. 110/516

 

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March 18 (also from the Chase County Leader): Isaac Jones reports that his father had hanged himself. 

    The deceased has undoubtedly been insane, or partly so, for a long time. He has at times labored under the hallucination that his life was in jeopardy from one and another and when thus affected would arm himself, and it is only a few weeks since he made an onslaught on two of his sons, C. W. And Scott, with murderous intent, first with a shotgun, which the boys took away from him, and immediately after with a revolver, firing twice at his son Charlie, who, to prevent the old gentleman from overtaking and shooting him, was compelled to shoot the horse which he (his father) was riding. (100/517-518)

 

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April 11: Forty miles east of Medora, in what is now Dickinson, N.D., Victor Hugo Stickney, a physician from Vermont, steps out of his office around noon. As David McCullough explains, Dr. Stickney spied “the most bedraggled figure I'd ever seen come limping down the street.” It was Teddy Roosevelt, clothes torn, covered with mud, “the queerest specimen of strangeness that had ever descended on Dickinson in the three years I had lived there.” 

    Stickney continued: 

He was all eyes and teeth. … He was scratched, bruised and hungry, but gritty and determined as a bulldog. He was actually a slender young fellow, but I remember that he gave me the impression of being heavy and rather large. As I approached him he stopped me with a gesture asking me whether I could direct him to a doctor’s office. I was struck by the way he bit off his words and showed his teeth. I told him that I was the only practicing physician, not only in Dickinson but in the whole surrounding country.

 

    “By George,” he said emphatically, “then you’re exactly the man I want to see. … My feet are blistered so badly that I can hardly walk. I want you to fix me up.”

 

    I took him into my office and while I was bathing and bandaging his feet which were in pretty bad shape, he told me the story …

 

    Roosevelt had just returned from New York to his ranch near Medora in the last days of March. He was informed by his men that a boat the ranch often used had been stolen. They suspected a man named Finnegan, and two accomplices, and after putting together a makeshift boat, Teddy and two hands, Bill Sewall and Wilmot Dow, set off down river to catch the thieves. 

    McCullough writes: 

    It was a matter of principle, Theodore later said. “To submit tamely and meekly to theft or to any other injury is to invite almost certain repetition of the offense…”

 

    They were three days on the river before catching up with the thieves, their boat charging along between snow-covered buttes and weird Bad Lands configurations that looked to Theodore like “the crouching figures of great goblin beasts.” He had brought along some books to read and his camera, expecting there might be a magazine article in the adventure. Each man had his rifle. The second night the temperature dropped below zero.

 

    The next day at a point about a hundred miles downstream from where they had started, they spotted the missing boat and going ashore found Finnegan and his partners, who surrendered without a fight. (“We simply crept noiselessly up and rising when only a few yards distant covered them with the cocked rifles.”) From there they spent another six days moving on down the river, making little headway now because of ice jams, and taking turns at night guarding the prisoners, who because of the extreme cold could not be bound hand and foot. Food ran low and the cold and biting winds continued. But not the least extraordinary part of the story is that during these same six days after catching the thieves, Theodore, in odd moments, read the whole of Anna Karenina, and “with very great interest.”

 

    Teddy had his prisoners. Now the question was how to get them to Dickinson, where they could be turned over to the sheriff. Roosevelt sent his men down the river with the boats, hired a wagon and driver from a nearby ranch, then walked behind the wagon for 45 miles, keeping his Winchester rifle ready, in case the prisoners tried to escape. By the time Dr. Stickney met him, McCullough notes, the young rancher had gone two days without sleep or rest. 

    When Stickney and others at Dickinson asked why he had not simply shot or hanged the thieves when he first found them and saved himself all that trouble, Theodore answered that the thought had never occurred to him.

 

    “He impressed me and he puzzled me,” wrote Stickney years afterward, “and when I went home to lunch, an hour later, I told my wife that I had met the most peculiar and at the same time the most wonderful man I had ever come to know. I could see that he was a man of brilliant ability and I could not understand why he was out there on the frontier.”

 

    Sewall had known Roosevelt since he was a young boy and could not fail to see the improvement in his health. “When he got back into the world again, he was as husky as almost any man I have ever seen who wasn’t dependent on his arms for a livelihood. He weighed one hundred and fifty pounds, and was clear bone, muscle, and grit.” (112/346-350)

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June 17 (the Leader, again): 

A Mad (?) Dog Killed 

    A commotion inside a clothing store, owned by a Mr. Holmes draws the attention of J.M. Engles and Harry Clifford, just passing by. Inside is a mad dog, under a bed, or so it is believed, with Holmes and a clerk named Charlie having taken safety on higher ground. Clifford entered, and whistled to the dog. 

    Clifford didn’t want to see the dog half as bad as he thought he did, for when the dog came out from under the bed Clifford struck out for the front door with all the speed possible, the dog following close behind, and did not stop until he gained the top of a pile of lumber across the street, where he and the dog went “into committee of the whole” to discuss the difference between them. Engles, who was looking in at the door when the dog came from under the bed, climbed up Hotchkiss’ sign post so as to give Clifford and the dog plenty of room. While Clifford and the dog were watching each other, Charlie procured a loaded gun and gained the lumber pile by a circuitous route and gave the weapon to Clifford, who shot the dog, and the meeting adjourned. The dog belonged to Holmes, who is now, selling clothing at cheaper prices than ever, in fact, “dog gone” cheap. 100/518-519

 

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June 2: Chapter XXII of The Youth’s History of the United States by Edward Ellis, includes this lengthy passage:

 

[The marriage of President Cleveland] …took place on Wednesday, June 2, 1886, in the Blue Room of the White House, and was one of the most brilliant ceremonies of the kind that has ever occurred in that historic building.

 

    Daylight was carefully excluded from the room and the whole interior was radiant with the flood of light from the massive crystal chandelier. The air was fragrant with the perfume of flowers, and the great banks of scarlet begonias and magnificent roses threw a rich glow over all. The delicate ivory shades of the bride’s wedding gown were strikingly set off by the masses of crimson roses just beyond.

 

    The ceremony was performed by the Rev. Dr. Sunderland, and the Rev. Mr. Cleveland, brother of the president, pronounced the benediction.

 

    The bride, in whom the whole nation felt a tender and admiring interest, was Francis Folsom, who was born in Buffalo, July 21, 1864. She possessed fine ability, was amiable and popular, and during her occupancy of the White House, none presided with more grace and becoming dignity. It cannot be denied that much of the popularity of President Cleveland’s administration was due to his accomplished wife. Since his retirement from office a daughter has been born to the husband and wife.

 

    The marriage of President Cleveland, while in office, renders appropriate an account of the domestic life at the White House.

 

    Abigail Adams was the first to establish domestic life there at the beginning of the present century. The structure was much inferior to the one of the present day, and the festivities were few, the only important ones being those which occurred at the New Year’s receptions.

 

….Jefferson was simple in his tastes, and while he was president no entertainments were given except the public receptions. When, however, the genial “Dolly” Madison became mistress, she made the White House a social center.

 

    The first marriage in the White House was in 1811, while Mrs. Madison was hostess. The bride was her niece, Miss Todd, a Quaker girl, of Philadelphia, and the groom Congressman John J. Jackson, of Virginia. It may be stated that he was the great-uncle of the famous Confederate leader, Stonewall Jackson. Out of respect for the religious principles of the demure Quaker girl, the wedding was a quiet one. The reception was attended by all the congressmen and the Washington officials.

 

    The second marriage in the White House was that of Marie Monroe, youngest daughter of President Monroe, to her cousin, Samuel L. Gouverneur, of New York. This took place in March, 1820. The wedding was private, only the bridesmaids, the family relations, and the old friends of the bride and groom being present. The bridesmaids and their attendants assisted at a public reception given in their honor, the following week, by the president. He and Mrs. Monroe mingled with the company, leaving to the bridal pair the duties of host and hostess. A grand ball was afterward given to them by Commodore Decatur.

 

…Only one president previous to Mr. Cleveland was married during his term of office. The wife of John Tyler died in 1842, when he had been president a year and a half. Within the succeeding two years, he was married to Julia Gardner in New York. He returned at once to the White House, where a grand reception was held in her honor. [Tyler’s third daughter was also married at the White House, “the wedding was a brilliant one,” and guests included Mrs. Madison.]

 

    One of the most famous weddings in the White House was that of Nellie Grant, only daughter of General Grant. It was performed in the East Room, May 21, 1874, the groom being Algernon Sartoris, of Hampshire, England. The wedding was the most brilliant ever known in Washington. The two hundred guests present represented the officials of the government and their families, the army and marine corps and their families, the diplomatic corps and personal friends. The couple sailed for Europe, where they have spent most of their time since.

 

[President Arthur was a widower; Buchanan was a bachelor, and Harriet Lane, his beautiful niece, presided.]

 

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ELLIS, THE AUTHOR, gives brief capsules of all the first ladies. Mrs. Washington was 17 when]

 

…she married John Parke Custis, a wealthy gentleman, who died ten years later. The handsome and wealthy widow afterward married George Washington.

 

[Abigail Adams came to D.C.]: That beautiful city was then a straggling town built in a swamp. Mrs. Adams was the first lady of the White House, but when she took up her abode in it the building was only half finished….Mrs. Adams was a lady of unusual mental power and proved an invaluable helpmate to her husband.

 

[Jefferson’s daughters, Mrs. Randolph and Mrs. Eppes] visited the mansion only twice, and now and then Mrs. Madison officiated. The first child born in the White House was the son of Mrs. Eppes, who was a lady of remarkable beauty. Mrs. Randolph was brilliant and accomplished, but the demands of her family prevented her from acting as the hostess of the White House.

 

    Mrs. Madison was a genial, kind-hearted, laughing lady, who was the widow of a staid Friend, when she was married at the age of twenty-three to James Madison. She may have lacked the elegance of some of the other ladies of the White House, but her tact and wit, her astonishing memory of faces and her geniality made her popular with all. She delighted in having young people around her, and paid little attention to the ceremonious customs of her predecessors. She was fond of dress, though not extravagant.

 

    Mrs. Monroe, her successor, was the opposite in every respect. She was tall, graceful and elegant of manner, well-informed, and her life abroad had made her familiar with the usages proper in such an exalted position. The East Room, which had long been the play room of children, was furnished, and her receptions were of a stately and ceremonious character. She required full dress and returned no calls. She died suddenly one year before the death of her husband, and five years after he had withdrawn to private life.

 

    Mrs. John Quincy Adams was a worthy successor…Although of American lineage, she was born and educated in London and married there at the age of twenty-two. She was highly accomplished, with exquisite taste and considerable beauty…Her health was failing when she came to the White House and her life there was quiet.

 

[Jackson’s wife was dead when he came to Washington. Her nieces, Mrs. Donelson and Mrs. Jackson, Jr. acted as hostesses.] The four children of Mrs. Donelson were all born in the White House, and the christening of each was made a memorable occasion by the president.

 

[Van Buren was also a widower of twenty years.] During his term the wife of his eldest son presided in the White House with grace and taste. She was a beautiful lady of fine education and of an aristocratic family.

 

    You remember that President Harrison died shortly after his inauguration—so soon, indeed, that his wife’s preparations for going to the capital were not completed and she never occupied the White House.

 

[After Tyler’s wife died…] Miss Julia Gardner and her sister, daughters of a wealthy gentleman of New York, often accompanied their father in his travels for pleasure, and they spent several winters in Washington. About a year after the death of Mrs. Tyler, Miss Gardner attracted the attention of the president at a White House reception held on Washington’s Birthday, 1844, and later the president went to New York and married her. The bride was twenty-six years of age and the groom was a little more than double her age. She was the lady of the White House for eight months only, but her reign was brilliant.

 

    Mrs. Sarah Childress Polk was a strict member of the Presbyterian Church, and a thoroughly graceful and accomplished lady. She banished dancing from the White House during her stay, and allowed no refreshments at the presidential receptions.

 

    The wife of President Taylor entered the White House with a reluctance amounting to aversion. Her husband had led a stormy life, having taken part in a great many battles for his country. The two were strongly attached to each other, but General Taylor’s duties had kept him from home so long that the wife’s fondest hope was that they might spend their declining years together. All that was destroyed by his elevation to the presidency, and she gave over to her daughter, Mrs. Major Bliss, the direction of ceremonies, dinners and receptions at the White House.

 

…Mrs. Abigail Powers Fillmore succeeded as the hostess of the executive manor. She had been a teacher for several years before and after her marriage, which took place when she was twenty-seven years old. She was of a social disposition, but suffered so much from a bad lameness that she gave her place so far as possible to her young daughter.

 

    When Mrs. Pierce entered the White House, she was bowed with grief over the death of her last child. Indeed, she never fully recovered from her affliction. She was the daughter of President Appleton, of Bowdoin College, and her mind was highly cultivated. She was of dreamy and poetic tendencies and took but slight interest in political affairs.

 

    Harriet Lane, the niece of President Buchanan, was the lady of the White House during his presidency. She had a tall, commanding figure, fine features, luxuriant brown hair, a strikingly beautiful complexion, and was one of the most admired of women…

 

    Miss Mary Todd, when twenty-one years old, married Abraham Lincoln…Within a few days of his inauguration as president she held her first reception at the White House. She was a cheerful, kind-hearted lady, whose later years were darkened by the awful tragedy that robbed our country of one of the greatest and best presidents since Washington.

 

    Miss Eliza McCardle was married in her eighteenth year to Andrew Johnson, who at twenty-one was still an apprentice. You know with what labor he had learned to read, while he was toiling in a tailor’s workshop, and he now became the pupil of his wife, who taught him to write. He pursued his studies evening after evening until his learning at last outstripped that of his teacher. After Mrs. Johnson entered the White House, her health became so broken that she was unable to perform the duties of hostess. [Mrs. Martha Patterson, a daughter, helped take charge.]

 

    When Mrs. Julia Dent Grant moved into the White House it was beautifully furnished and equipped. She liked splendor and pleasure, and from the time she took charge it was the scene of magnificent entertainment. Mrs. Grant was well educated, and presided with grace and dignity.

 

    Mrs. Lucy Webb Hayes was married to Rutherford B. Hayes in 1852, and was the happy mother of four boys and one girl. She was noted for her devotion to the wounded soldiers of the war. Her husband’s three terms as governor of Ohio gave her all the tuition she could need for the more exalted position of lady of the White House. Her refinement and Christian character rendered her one of the most illustrious of all who have presided in the executive mansion.

 

    Miss Lucretia Rudolph married James A. Garfield when he became president of Hiram College, in which both had been students. She was a lady of many accomplishments and was a devoted wife and mother, but hardly had she become used to the duties of the White House when her life was darkened by the dreadful death of her husband.

 

[President Arthur’s sister presided.]

 

    During the first part of Mr. Cleveland’s administration, his sister, Miss Rose Elizabeth, was the lady of the White House. She is a woman of high mental gifts, and her brief reign as the first lady of the land was worthy in every respect of her illustrious predecessors.

 

    Miss Lavinia Scott married President Harrison when he was a young man just beginning the battle of life, and had the happiness, therefore, of being his companion and helper in adversity as well as prosperity. She was a lady of excellent education and many accomplishments, long identified with active charitable and church work at her home in Indianapolis. As mistress of the White House, she commanded the respect of all by her amiable disposition, grace and true womanliness. She died after a lingering illness, November 1, 1892.

 

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Fall: Writing in Century magazine, Theodore Roosevelt warns of problems ahead in the Dakota Territory: 

    Overstocking may cause little or no harm for two or three years, But sooner or later there comes a winner which means ruin to the ranches that have too many cattle on them; And in our country, which is even now getting crowded, it is merely a question of time as to when a winter will come that will understock the ranges by the summary process of killing off about half of all the cattle throughout the northwest.

 

    The summer had been dry and there was little grass, as the cold months approached.

 

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Winter months: Starting in the last days of 1886, bad weather drives the cattle business on the Northern Plains into ruin. As Helena Huntington Smith writes (see: “The Johnson County War,” in American Heritage): 

Snow fell and drifted and thawed and froze and fell again, clothing the ground with an iron sheath of white on which a stagecoach could travel and through which no bovine hoof could paw for grass; and since the plains were heavily overstocked and the previous summer had been hot and dry, there was no grass anyway. Moaning cattle wandered into the outskirts of towns, trying to eat frozen garbage and the tar paper off the eaves of the shacks; and when the hot sun of early summer uncovered the fetid carcasses piled in the creek bottoms, the bark of trees and brush was gnawed as high as a cow could reach. Herd losses averaged fifty percent, with ninety percent for unacclimated southern herds…

 

In the heyday of the beef bonanza, herds had been bought and sold by “book count,” based on a back-of-an-envelope calculation of “natural increase,” with no pother about a tally on the range. As the day of reckoning dawned, it turned out that many big companies had fewer than half the number of cattle claimed on their books. Now the terrible winter cut this half down to small fractions…

 

    McCullough tells a similar tale: 

    Storm on top of storm, blinding snows, relentless, savage winds, the worst winter on record swept the Great Plains. In the Bad Lands, children were lost and froze to death within a hundred yards of their own doors. Cattle, desperate for shelter, smashed their heads through ranch-house windows. The snow drifted so deep in many places the cattle were buried alive and temperatures hovered at about 40 below. People locked up in their houses could only wait and hope that elsewhere conditions were not so bad. A few who could not wait blew their brains out. (112/344-345)

 

Some of the biggest cattle barons, blaming smaller ranchers for the loss of so many cattle, and fighting often erupted. (See: Year 1892.)