How Lincoln Got His Chops

What would Abe wear?

Before Lincoln ran for office in 1860 he received a letter from an eleven-year-old girl name Grace Bedell from upstate New York. She had a piece of advice for him: grow a beard if he wanted to look presidential and get elected. Lincoln replied to Grace on October 19 but made no promises. As he wrote, “As to the whiskers, having never worn any, do you not think people would call it a piece of silly affectation if I were to begin it now?” One month later, however, he was sporting the makings of a beard.

In February of 1861, after Lincoln had won the election, he traveled to Bedell’s hometown. The Philadelphia Inquirer newspaper recorded the event on February 20, 1861, “At Westfield, Mr. Lincoln greeted a large crowd of ladies, and several thousand of the sterner sex. Addressing the ladies, he said, “I am glad to see you; I suppose you are to see me; but I certainly think I have the best of the bargain. (Applause.) Some three months ago, I received a letter from a young lady here; it was a very pretty letter, and she advised me to let my whiskers grow, as it would improve my personal appearance; acting partly upon her suggestion, I have done so; and now, if she is here, I would like to see her; I think her name was Miss Barlly.” A small boy, mounted on a post, with his mouth and eyes both wide open, cried out, “there she is, Mr. Lincoln,” pointing to a beautiful girl, with black eyes, who was blushing all over her fair face. The President left the car, and the crowd making way for him, he reached her, and gave her several hearty kisses, and amid the yells of delight from the excited crowd, he bade her good-bye, and on we rushed.”

Famous letter writer Grace Bedell in the 1870s

Mr. Lincoln Meet Mr. Lincoln Meet Mr. Lincoln

Hats off to the Lincoln presenters, Washington DC, April 18, 2009 (photo by Ricky Carioti-The Washington Post)

How many Abe Lincolns does it take to hold a conference? As we learned this weekend when a busload of Lincoln presenters came to town, that number would be about fifty. These Lincolns are also known as portrayers or impersonators and they take their job very seriously. To be a Lincoln is to ask yourself, “What would Lincoln do?”

After spending these past few months on the Connections project I’ve come to understand that there were many aspects to Lincoln’s personality: rail-splitter, lawyer, statesman, father, inventor, hero, and martyr, to name the first that come to mind. Perhaps it’s fitting then to see multiple images of Lincoln as pictured here.

I love this photo of a handful of Abes and a couple of Marys. One Lincoln has his hat tipped, while the other Lincolns seem to be looking in different directions. The man in the middle who appears to be the youngest Lincoln has the grayest beard.

Is it me or does the Lincoln on the far left bear a slight resemblance to our most recent ex-president? I think I see it around the eyes. Hmmm. I wonder…is there a line of work for former presidents portraying former presidents?

View more images and read the article in the Washington Post.

April 14, 2009

After the lecture by “Manhunt” author James L. Swanson at the Newseum, I walked to Ford’s Theatre to pay my respects to the president I’ve come to truly admire while working on the Connections project. Actually, admire is too polite a word. What I feel is greater than that but I’m not quite sure of the word. Just looking at a series of photographs of how he looked before he entered the White House and how he looked at the end of his life made me appreciate and respect each line in his chiseled face. The loss of his son Willie. The Civil War. A trying marriage (at times).

The streets were wet as I walked in the chilly night air. As I got closer I came across a group of people but they were just milling outside of the Hard Rock Cafe. I don’t think Father Abraham was on their minds. And then I turned the corner, and there was Ford’s Theatre as well as the townhouse across the street that belonged to William Peterson, where the president was taken after he was shot.

A few blocks away, was the Patent Office Building where Lincoln held his second inaugural ball and poet Walt Whitman nursed wounded soldiers. It all seemed to be right here: the world of the mid-to-late nineteenth century, Lincoln’s world. I looked at the theatre where a wreath of flowers was placed outside. I crossed to the townhouse where a second wreath was displayed, and stood on the stairs to look inside the window. Lincoln had been gravely wounded and could not be taken back to the White House. I looked back and forth imagining the chaotic scene of April 14, 1865 when the streets filled with the angry and the outraged.

After a few minutes I walked away. Oddly enough I crossed the street and found myself in front of Madame Tussaud’s. Inside the window was a wax figure of the President, posed, I imagine for that fateful evening in the theatre, as if the world had somehow stopped at 8:30 pm on April 14, 1865.

April 14 (part two): The Last Hours of Lincoln

The President Has Been Shot, by Currier and Ives

“It happened tonight and it happened here,” began James L. Swanson when he took to the podium at the Newseum to speak about the events of April 14, 1865. Swanson, the author of “Manhunt: The Twelve Day Chase for Lincoln’s Killer,” (also the basis for an exhibtion at the Newseum) recounted the events that unfolded on the last days of Lincoln’s life. Adding to the dramatic presentation was the fact that the Newseum is on the site of the Old National Hotel, where actor James Wilkes Booth booked room 228 that fateful day. What was Booth thinking on the morning of April 14? Was he preparing for the play? Did his mind switch gears once he found out that Abraham Lincoln, a man he despised, was going to be attending the theater that night? According to Swanson, this is the likely scenario: Booth knew he would have a window of opportunity later that evening, and he intended to use it.

According to Swanson, the days before the assassination were some of Lincoln’s happiest: Robert E. Lee had surrendered on April 10, the Civil War was nearly at an end, and the Lincoln family was celebrating Easter in the White House. During these few blissful days the president even convinced Mrs. Lincoln to take a carriage ride with him. “Unaccompanied?” she asked prophetically. “Yes,” the president replied, wanting time alone with his wife to try and heal the stresses of their marriage.

On the evening of the 14th, the Lincoln’s arrived at Ford’s Theatre at 8:30 pm and they were greeted by “Hail to the Chief.” A few ours later it would all be over. Booth would shout, “I have done it, ” actress Laura Keane would come onstage and urge people to “keep their places,” and Mrs. Lincoln would later refer to Ford’s Theatre as that “dreadful, dreadful house.”

April 14 (part one): Sounds of Lincoln

The Federal City Brass Band performed an evening of Lincoln-related music in a tribute to the slain president.

At the Newseum last night the Federal City Brass Band warmed up the audience before “Manhunt” author, James L. Swanson delivered his talk to commemorate the 144th anniversary of Lincoln’s assassination. Based in Baltimore, FCBB recreates the sounds and appearance of a U.S. Army regimental brass band of the 1860s.

They began their performance with “The Old Gray Mare” also known as “Out of the Wilderness.” This became a campaign song for Lincoln that used the words, “Old Abe Lincoln came out of the wilderness.” The band continued with the “Battle Cry of Freedom” and the ever-popular “Yankee Doodle.” From campaign trail to president, the Band chose “The Old Hundreth” which was played in November, 1863, at a dedication for a new national cemetery. “The Old Hundredth,” a hymn, was played before Lincoln spoke at that somber occasion.

Perhaps the most moving part of the program followed when the Band played “Honor to Our Soldiers,” written by William Withers. The music was to be played on the evening of April 14, 1865 at Ford’s Theatre, after the third act of “Our American Cousin.” Lincoln was killed before the third act and never got to hear the music especially written to honor Father Abraham and the soldiers who died in the name of freedom.

After Lincoln’s death, William Wolsieffer wrote “The Lincoln Funeral March.” It’s haunting sounds and muffled drum beats captured the shocked and mournful mood of the broken nation. You could hear something of that, even at the Newseum, 144 years later.

Mr. Lincoln’s Silk Hat

Abraham Lincoln's top hat

At six feet four inches, Abraham Lincoln was a tall man. Imagine how tall he was when he put on this substantial top hat. He must have been towering.

But Lincoln’s stature had more to do with his smarts than with his height. He was an amazing man and as we move forward in the bicentennial year, I’m always glad to learn more. In terms of the hat, that’s where he used to store important papers. I would have loved to have been in a room when he entered, removed his hat, and then like a magician, pulled out the goods.

He purchased the hat in Washington, D.C., and after his son Willie died, added the black mourning band around the brim.

On the last night of his life, when he and his wife were at the theater, he may have placed the hat on an empty chair in the presidential box. It was found a few days later then transferred to the Department of the Interior where it was displayed in the Patent Office Building (now the Reynolds Center). In 1867 it was transferred to the Smithsonian Institution, but Joseph Henry, the first secretary of the institution, would not let the hat be displayed “on account of their being so much excitement at the time.” The hat was then placed in storage and not seen by anyone till 1893, when it was once again displayed for the public.

The hat is presently on display in the exhibition Abraham Lincoln: An Extraordinary Life at the National Museum of American History and remains one of the treasures of the Smithsonian. It may be an inanimate object but it certainly has multiple stories to tell.

On The Presidential Watch

Dillon's secret message etched inside Lincoln's gold watch.

At 10:00 a.m. this morning I sat in a quiet room at the Museum of American History while Abraham Lincoln’s gold pocket watch was opened for the first time since 1865. Brent Glass, the museum’s director was in attendance, as was senior curator Harry Rubenstein, whose exhibition, Abraham Lincoln: An Extraordinary Life is drawing in the crowds. (On view in that exhibit is Lincoln’s watch which was removed for a few hours this morning.) Also in the room were various videographers, photographers, editors, writers, and even a few bloggers.

The story of Lincoln’s watch was the stuff of legend, fact, speculation, and a little mythmaking thrown in for good measure. In 1906, 84 year old Jonathan Dillon told the New York Times that while he was repairing Lincoln’s watch in April, 1861 at W. Galt and Co. on Pennsylvania Avenue, the Civil War had just broken out. His supervisor ran up the stairs with the news, exclaiming, “Dillon, war has begun; the first shot has been fired.”

At that moment, Dillon was holding Lincoln’s watch after having just made some repairs to it. “I was in the act of screwing on the dial when Mr. Galt announced the news. I unscrewed the dial, and with a sharp instrument wrote on the metal beneath, ‘The first gun is fired, Slavery is dead. Thank God we have a president who at least will try.’ Then Dillon signed his name and the date and tightened the watch’s screws.

Over the years, Dillon’s heirs, including his great-great grandsons, brothers Doug and Dan Stiles, heard the stories of Lincoln’s watch and the inscription which may or may not have been inscribed into it. The Stiles’ contacted Harry Rubenstein and the opening was set for this morning. Doug, Dan, and their spouses were in the front row.

Watchmaker George Thomas opened the watch wearing special goggles while his delicate movements were projected onto a large television screen. Was there an inscription or not? He described the watch as having Liverpool movement with very large jewels—a very fine watch, indeed. He kept us all in suspense.

It was getting a little tense in the room. He removed more screws and opened the case with levers then called on one of the Stiles brothers to join him. And there it was: the inscription from 1861 which read: April 13, 1861. Fort Sumter was attached by the rebels on the above date. Thank God we have a government. Almost verbatim what Dillon told the New York Times more than one hundred years ago.

We all breathed a sigh of relief. The Stiles brothers felt like they were part of history. Doug excitedly exclaimed, “That’s Lincoln’s watch and my ancestor put graffiti on it.” It was a wonderful moment among many. Unfortunately, George Thomas was not able to wind the watch so we could hear it ticking; though the watch is in pristine condition, some of the movement had just dried out. We were disappointed not to be able to hear what Lincoln heard (and what sounds are really left from that time?) but we were all in awe to witness history and experience Abraham Lincoln as if for the first time in our lives.

Two hours later we gave a round of applause to the Stiles brothers and their great-great grandfather, the Smithsonian staff, and most importantly, to Abraham Lincoln, for whom a stopped watch seems a relevant image of his too short life.