I am now on presidential biography #11. James K. Polk followed John Tyler and preceded Zachary Taylor, and if all three of them are just names you barely remember from U.S. history, you're not alone.
Borneman begins and ends this biography of the 11th president by arguing that Polk was in fact one of the greatest U.S. presidents. He supports this with polls of historians, beginning with Arthur Schlesinger, who consistently rank Polk among the top ten.
This might be surprising considering who he typically shares the list with: Washington, Jefferson, Lincoln, Roosevelt, Eisenhower, etc. Those are A-list presidents, while Polk is just another early 19th century dude who warmed the Oval Office chair before Lincoln.
But Borneman makes a convincing case that, by the criteria by which a president's effectiveness is measured, Polk was actually pretty darn effective.
That didn't make him particularly interesting, though. Walter Borneman, a historian, tries with Polk: The Man Who Transformed the Presidency and America, and I came away from this book more educated and largely agreeing with the arguments Borneman makes about Polk's significance, but still... Polk was no Washington or Lincoln, or even a Johnson.
Old Hickory's Boy
Born in a log cabin (a claim several other presidents made, though some were stretching the truth a bit), James Polk was a physically unimpressive man (5'8") who suffered from health problems and physical frailty his entire life. Borneman describes a trip he made as a teenager to Philadelphia to be seen by a physician for his urinary stones. The bumpy ride proved so agonizing he couldn't continue, and instead, was subjected to emergency surgery in Kentucky. "Emergency surgery" in Kentucky in 1812 was as brutal as it sounds, and while it apparently removed Polk's urinary stones, Borneman and other historians speculate that the surgeon cut out more than some stones, explaining why Polk and his wife Sarah never had children.
He recovered, and went on to become a lawyer and a politician, like many future presidents. He was a protege of Andrew Jackson, and became such a stalwart Jackson supporter that he was known as "Old Hickory's boy."
Polk served as Congressman and then Governor of Tennessee. And in 1844, as Borneman describes it, Polk's political career was almost dead in the water, as he'd been defeated twice for reelection as Governor. He went to the 1844 Democratic convention hoping to get the VP slot, not campaigning for the presidential nomination.
"Who is James K. Polk?"
At this point, Borneman goes into excruciating detail about the Democratic party's 1844 movers and how the balloting was done. Ex-President Martin Van Buren was the front runner, and Borneman describes Polk doing some serious asskissing and rhetorical gymnastics to try to convince Van Buren that he should be his running mate, despite having just been whupped twice in his home state. However, Van Buren then pissed off his old mentor Andrew Jackson by opposing the annexation of Texas, and Jackson ended up throwing his support behind Polk instead. After a lot of other political shenanigans and maneuvering (if you are the sort of wonky political nerd who likes following the ins and outs of party conventions and how the sausage is made, here's a book that gives you a good look at the Democrats in 1844), Polk ended up with the nomination. His running mate was George M. Dallas (who?).
The Whigs mocked him with "Who is James K. Polk?", but Henry Clay (making his third or fourth run at the presidency) narrowly lost to Polk. Polk was helped by Andrew Jackson, who used his influence to persuade the sitting president without a party, John Tyler, to withdraw from the campaign. Slavery was a major issue, but both Polk and Clay were slave-owning Southerners, so a fabricated story about Polk branding his slaves (what came to be known as the "Roorback Forgery") is believed to have backfired, since it just reminded abolitionists that Clay owned slaves too. Borneman analyzes the election rather thoroughly and concludes that New York, and some votes siphoned off there by the abolitionist Liberty Party, was what cost Clay the election.
Manifest Destiny
Polk promised during his campaign that he would serve only one term and not run for reelection. Today, it's assumed that anyone elected president is going to try for two terms, and thus is pretty much running for reelection the moment he hits the White House. But in 1844 there was still debate over whether presidents even should be reelected. Polk's pledge was serious. He meant it, and Borneman points out that in many ways, this was what made him such an effective president. He was willing to burn all his political capital during his single term and not worry about his reelection.
His first major decision was over Texas. Outgoing President John Tyler had stolen some of Polk's thunder by annexing Texas just before he left office. (Tyler really wanted credit for Texas.) Technically, Polk could have recalled the offer of annexation (which Texas had already approved) to reopen negotiations for more favorable agreements with Mexico and Britain. But this risked Texas not becoming a state at all. Britain had brokered a deal whereby Texas independence would be recognized by Mexico in exchange for a promise to never annex itself to another country, though Texas President Sam Houston refused. So Polk, who was strongly in favor of Texas statehood, allowed the annexation to go through.
Polk had his eye on more than Texas. It was during Polk's presidency that the U.S. adopted "manifest destiny," an expansion of the Monroe Doctrine. He would end up adding not just Texas, but also New Mexico, California, and Oregon.
The Mexican-American War was an early Iraq War
Borneman spends a significant chunk of the book talking about the Mexican-American War. Everyone knew that annexing Texas was almost inevitably going to lead to war with Mexico; Mexico had said as much. Polk did send an ambassador to Mexico City to try to settle claims over Texas, and also buy California and New Mexico outright, but anti-American sentiment was strong and the Mexican president refused to see the U.S. ambassador. Then there was coup, and an even more anti-American general took over, so the ambassador sent word back that they'd have to wait for the Mexican government to change again.
I found a surprising number of parallels with the Iraq War.
During this time, General Zachary Taylor was camping his army across the river from Matamouros. A Mexican general told them to move. They didn't. The Mexicans attacked and inflicted a few casualties. This gave Polk a casus belli, and in a line that would be thrown back at him later by one Abraham Lincoln, declared that Mexico had "shed American blood on American soil."
Borneman argues that this was the point where Polk transformed the Presidency and dramatically increased executive power. Under the Constitution, only Congress can declare war. During "Madison's War" in 1812, James Madison "wrung his hands" about asking Congress to go to war with Britain; it wasn't clear the president had any authority even to ask for a war. But Polk, as Borneman describes it, did not so much ask Congress for permission to go to war, but decided to go to war and then asked Congress to approve it. With a great deal of political pressure, the House and Senate voted in favor of a declaration of war with Mexico, while many politicians complained that they were essentially forced to so as not to look unpatriotic. And thus the precedent was set.
There were many interesting figures involved in the Mexican campaign, such as John C. Fremont and Kit Carson. Fremont would be significant politically; he was the son-in-law of a powerful Missouri Senator and one-time Polk ally, Thomas Hart Benton. Thanks to a series of military misadventures, questions about rank and protocol, and Fremont just being kind of an egotistical jerk, he ended up being court-martialed, and while Polk agreed with the military tribunal's recommendation of leniency, he did not do what Benton wanted and exonerate Fremont completely. This caused a permanent rift which was quite damaging for Polk politically.
Other interesting episodes from this time period included Thomas Hart Benton's son-in-law storming into Polk's office (according to some rumors, drunk) and demanding a commission, then cursing the president out when he was refused. (These were the days before the Secret Service, and Polk often complained about the constant stream of office-seekers who would just walk into the White House and beg or demand jobs).
Polk also brought exiled general Santa Anna back from Cuba, promising to put him in control of Mexico so he could sell California to the Yankees. Santa Anna said "Sure, gringos!", took control of Mexico, and promptly led a bloody military campaign to defend it against the Yankees.
As the war ground on, Congress would become increasingly dissatisfied with its progress and cost. Illinois Congressman Abraham Lincoln began introducing "Spot Resolutions" demanding that President Polk "Show the exact spot on a map where American blood was shed on American soil." None of them were passed, but it was an effective bit of political theater.
Polk sent another ambassador, Nicholas Trist, to negotiate a peace treaty. When Trist failed to make any progress, Polk tried to recall him. Trist not only refused to be recalled, but sent Polk a 65-page letter explaining why. Polk was, understandably, pissed, and considered sending someone to remove him, but given the distance, let Trist stay, where he eventually negotiated the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo, which essentially settled the modern border with Mexico.
"Fifty-four Forty or Fight!"
Another one of Polk's objectives when he took office was to settle what was at the time joint occupation of the Oregon Territory by the U.S. and Britain. He wanted Oregon, and was willing to risk war with Britain to get it.
The slogan "Fifty-four Forty or Fight!" is often the only thing most people remember about Polk's presidency. Contrary to popular belief, it was not a campaign slogan: it wasn't circulated until 1846, when hawks were demanding that Britain give up the entire West coast up to the 54th parallel, the southern border of what was then Russian territory and is now Alaska.
Polk proved to be a tough negotiator, and Britain needed trade with the United States much more than it wanted a war. The U.S. did not get "Fifty-four Forty," but they did get the 49th parallel. And with that, during his presidency Polk more or less established the boundaries of the lower 48.
The One-Term President
True to his word, Polk did not run for reelection. He threw his support in 1848 behind the Democratic nominee, Lewis Cass, while the Whigs ran Zachary Taylor, whom Polk had been very unimpressed with during the Mexican-American War. The feeling was reciprocated, but when Taylor won, Polk received him in Washington and they had a very pleasant dinner party with all the winners and losers of the recent election.
Polk was happy to leave the White House. His health had deteriorated and he was exhausted. He and Sarah took a little celebratory tour of the South, where he caught cholera and died in June 1949. Polk remains the shortest-lived of all ex-presidents.
Sarah, on the other hand, would be the longest-lived ex-First Lady. She would live as a widow for another 42 years.
Why was Polk a great president? According to Borneman and other historians:
He accomplished all the goals he had when he took office. (Resolve the joint occupation of Oregon, acquire California, reduce the tariff, and establish an independent treasury.)
He was the most decisive chief executive until Lincoln. He said what he meant to do, and he did it, without any waffling or second-guessing.
He greatly expanded the power of the executive office, especially its war powers.
Note that all of these accomplishments speak to his effectiveness, and not necessarily their morality. Depending on how you view Polk's legacy, he was very effective at expanding the Pax Americana or, well, he was very effective at expanding the Pax Americana.
Borneman describes Polk as a firm, decisive leader who probably did possess all the qualities we would want today in a chief executive except, perhaps, being on the right side of history. Polk was a slave owner, and he was as resolute on the slavery issue as he was on everything else. Most early American presidents were slave owners, and most of them wrestled with this to varying degrees. Washington, Jefferson, Madison, Monroe, even Martin Van Buren (who wasn't a slave owner but supported the South)... they all clearly struggled with being complicit in what they knew to be an immoral institution.
Not James Polk. If he ever had any moral qualms about slavery, he never expressed them. He regarded it as a purely "political" matter, to be decided by individual states as a matter of law. In his will, he encouraged his wife to free their slaves, but only upon her death.
Polk: The Man Who Transformed the Presidency and America is a thorough biography written in sufficient detail to at times be a bit tedious, but short enough not to overburden someone who isn't that interested in obscure presidents from the 1840s and is grinding through presidential biographies in chronological order. I appreciated Borneman's attention to detail, and the fact that he provided some insights and analyses of his own, though at times I thought he fell victim to the curse of many a biographer, becoming a little too enamored of his subject and thus tending to take his side in various political disputes.