Welcome to the Deep Dive, where we unpack the
stories behind the headlines and explore the
people who shaped our past. Today, we're plunging
into a pivotal, almost unfathomable moment in
American history. Picture this. It's April 1865.
The nation has just emerged from four years of
brutal civil war, reeling from the profound trauma
of division and loss, and then a shattering blow.
Abraham Lincoln, the leader who guided the Union
through its darkest hour, is assassinated. Just
gone. Suddenly, into that unimaginable void steps
a man from Tennessee, a figure few truly understood,
thrust into the presidency at the most critical
juncture imaginable. It's hard to even grasp
the shock. What does this mean? For the country?
For reunification? For freedom? Exactly. What
does this mean for a country teetering on the
edge of a new era, grappling with freedom and
the very definition of unity? It's a moment that
feels less like history and more like high drama,
isn't it? The country is in deep shock, needing
a steady, unifying hand. And instead, it gets
Andrew Johnson, a man about whom almost everyone
had reservations, but for very different reasons.
And that, for you, is our deep dive today. the
extraordinary and deeply controversial life of
Andrew Johnson, the 17th president of the United
States. You've provided us with a truly fascinating
collection of sources. And our mission is to
unpack the story of a man who, against all odds,
rose from abject poverty to the highest office
only to face an impeachment trial and leave a
legacy that historians still hotly debate. And
it is hotly debated. We'll explore the surprising
facts that shaped him, his pivotal and at times,
well, calamitous. role in a defining moment of
American history reconstruction, and just enough
illuminating insight to help you become truly
well -informed without feeling overwhelmed by
the sheer volume of information. What becomes
immediately clear when you look at Johnson is
that his story is a tapestry woven with incredible
contradictions. I mean, think about it. Right.
He was a Southern Unionist who, perhaps ironically
to modern ears, owned slaves. Which is a huge
point right there. A huge point. He passionately
championed the plebeian or working class only
to become president after Lincoln and clashed
dramatically with the very Congress elected by
the people. And then in a twist that's almost
unbelievable, he remains the only former president
in American history to ever return to serve in
the Senate. It's just wild. His life is packed
with these unexpected turns and an almost infuriating
stubborn determination that, as we'll see, set
the stage for epic clashes that still reverberate
today. OK, let's unpack this journey right from
the very beginning. To truly grasp Andrew Johnson,
we absolutely have to start at his roots, which
were about as humble as they come. He was born
on December 29th, 1808 in Raleigh, North Carolina,
into profound poverty. And not just a regular
poor, we're talking abj... Right. His birthplace
wasn't some grand estate, but a simple two -room
shack, a detail he would famously and often invoke
throughout his political career as a powerful
testament to his self -make image, a direct appeal
to the common man. His parents, Jacob Johnson
and Mary Polly McDonough, were both illiterate
tavern servants. His father, Jacob, also held
a variety of other low -wage roles, count constable,
bank porter. But their financial situation was
undeniably stark, living hand to mouth. And tragedy
struck very early in his life. Jacob died when
Andrew was just three years old. Yeah, just three.
It wasn't a quiet passing either. His father
suffered an apparent heart attack after heroically
rescuing three drowning men. This left his mother,
Polly Johnson, to become a washerwoman, a truly
stigmatized occupation at the time, making her
the sole struggling support of her young family.
Which meant Andrew himself never had the chance
to attend school, which tells you everything
you need to know about the family's precarious
circumstances. Zero formal schooling. Yet this
lack of formal schooling didn't mean a lack of
learning for Andrew. At age 10, he was apprenticed
as a tailor to a man named James Selby, legally
bound to serve until he was 21. A long time.
And during this period, he learned rudimentary
literacy skills from another employee in the
shop. But what's particularly insightful about
this time and often overlooked is how citizens
would frequently come to Selby's shop to read
aloud to the tailors as they worked. Ah, interesting.
Yeah, this practice, as biographer Annette Gordon
-Reed suggests, not only instilled in Johnson
a lifelong love of learning and political discourse,
but also subtly taught him the art of public
speaking and argumentation as he meticulously
threaded needles and cut cloth. He was absorbing
the rhythm of rhetoric while mastering a trade.
It's such a powerful image, isn't it? Learning
the very foundations of political debate while
his hands were busy with a needle and thread.
But despite this intellectual stimulation, His
apprenticeship wasn't, well, it wasn't a happy
one. No, definitely not. After about five years,
he and his brother William ran away. James Selby
was so determined to get Andrew back that he
offered a reward specifically noting Andrew Johnson
alone, highlighting Andrew's value perhaps even
as a runaway. Right suggests maybe he saw something
in him even then. He worked as a tailor in Carthage,
North Carolina and Lawrence, South Carolina,
even attempting to buy out his apprenticeship
when he briefly returned to Raleigh. Unable to
come to terms with Selby and facing the ongoing
risk of apprehension, he made the pivotal decision
to move west, traveling mostly on foot, seeking
a fresh start and, well, a fortune of his own.
This westward journey led him to Greenville,
Tennessee, a town he instantly fell in love with
and where he truly began to build his new life.
He settled there, establishing a successful tailoring
business. And he was proud of his work, too.
Oh, incredibly proud. He famously boasted, my
work never ripped or gave way, reflecting the
meticulousness, quality, and immense pride he
brought to his craft, a trait that would later
characterize his stubborn political resolve.
He prospered financially, even investing profitably
in real estate, eventually purchasing the very
land where he had first camped. And a truly crucial
part of his early success, both personally and
politically, came from his marriage in 1827 to
16 -year -old Eliza McArdle. She was so young.
16, yeah. Despite her own struggles with tuberculosis
throughout her life. Eliza was absolutely instrumental
in his self -education, teaching him mathematics
and diligently tutoring him to improve his writing
skills. Which he desperately needed, having no
formal schooling. She was key. But she was a
shy, retiring figure, often remaining in Greenville
during his political rise, leaving their strong
-willed daughter, Martha, to frequently serve
as the official hostess during his presidency,
partly due to Eliza's ill health. It was this
combination of financial prosperity, his voracious
reading of orders, and his engagement in local
intellectual life that really sparked his interest
in politics. Right. He'd engage in private debates
with customers right there in his shop. Kind
of an early form of political campaigning, perhaps.
And also participated in formal debates at Greenville
College. So he's honing his skills. Exactly.
This naturally led him into public service. He
helped organize the mechanics working men's ticket
in the 1829 Greenville municipal election and
was elected town alderman. By 1834 his fellow
alderman elected him mayor of Greenville. Looking
at this early political trajectory, it highlights
how profoundly his Polybian background and his
experiences as a tailor informed his earliest
political endeavors, leading him to consistently
advocate for the common working man, for the
tradesmen like himself. It wasn't just representing
them. He was them. It wasn't an act. It sounds
like that early experience wasn't just foundational,
but almost forged his entire political identity.
He wasn't merely a man of the people. He embodied
the people he claimed to represent. Absolutely.
From Greenville, Johnson began his rapid ascent
through state and federal ranks. In 1835, he
was elected to the Tennessee House of Representatives,
where he quickly gained a reputation for being
formidable, having apparently demolished the
opposition in debate with his powerful self -taught
oratory. He could really speak. He briefly lost
a reelection bid to a Whig, but then demonstrating
his political acumen, he successfully won as
a Democrat in 1839. And from that point forward,
he didn't lose another race for an astonishing
three decades. Thirty years. That's incredible.
Yeah. He was known for his commanding public
speaking, which genuinely drew crowds. And he
even attained the rank of colonel in the Tennessee
militia, a title by which he was often addressed,
adding to his public persona. Colonel Johnson.
It's crucial to note here, though, for a full
understanding of his complex character, that
despite his humble beginnings and his later fervent
unionism, Johnson was, in fact, a slave owner.
This is something we absolutely have to grapple
with. In 1843, he purchased his first slave,
Dolly, who was just 14 years old. 14. By 1860,
his household included 14 enslaved people. However,
a truly remarkable detail in his personal history
is the story of his former slave, Sam Johnson.
Okay, tell us about Sam. After emancipation,
Sam remained with Johnson as a paid servant and
later became a commissioner of the Freedmen's
Bureau, the federal agency established to aid
formerly enslaved people. And Sam Johnson then
successfully negotiated for both land and monetary
compensation from Andrew Johnson himself in 1867.
Wow. From his former enslaver, now the president.
Exactly. This specific interaction with Sam tells
us a great deal about the complex, often contradictory
relationships that could exist, revealing a fascinating
tension between personal action and public policy,
especially for someone championing the common
man. That's a truly illuminating detail in a
life full of them, hinting at the deep complexities
of the era. In 1843, Johnson then moved on to
the U .S. House of Representatives, serving an
impressive five two -year terms. Ten years in
the House. Here, he continued to be a strong
advocate for the poor, maintaining an unyielding
anti -abolitionist stance, and consistently opposing
protective tariffs and extensive government spending,
aligning with his Jacksonian democratic principles.
And this is where he pushes his pet project.
Right. It was during this time that he first
introduced his brainchild, the Homestead Bill,
a revolutionary measure to grant 160 acres of
public land to settlers willing to work the land,
a proposal deeply important to him, given his
own background of struggling for opportunity
and land ownership. You can see the direct link
to his own life there. The bill passed the House
in 1852, but faced resistance and failed in the
Senate. He once lamented, I have no political
future, after a wig led Henry Mandarin, like
Gerry Mandarin, redrew his district to be unwinnable
for him. He thought he was done for. Pretty much.
But despite that prediction of a truncative career,
he went on to serve as governor of Tennessee,
elected twice from 1853 to 1857. So much for
no political future. Right. Though the office
itself had limited constitutional power, Johnson
effectively used it as a bully pulpit, a platform
to aggressively advocate for his agenda and shape
public opinion. During his tenure, he initiated
significant reforms including founding the state's
public library, establishing its first public
school system and initiating state fairs to benefit
craftsmen and farmers, always keeping his plebeian
base in mind. Even with limited power, he found
ways to push his agenda. Yes. This capacity to
operate within limited governmental power while
still using the office to push for public good
is quite fascinating, demonstrating his persistent
drive for popular improvements, especially for
those he believed represented the true heart
of America. And from the governor's mansion,
he was elected to the U .S. Senate in 1857 by
the state legislature. He continued his relentless
advocacy for the Homestead Bill, which, after
years of his persistent efforts, finally passed
in 1862, albeit after his departure from the
Senate. He wasn't even there to see it pass,
but it was his baby. This landmark legislation
is widely credited with opening the Western US
to settlement, transforming the American landscape.
This relentless pursuit over many years really
highlights his deep personal conviction tied
to his own experience and a willingness to play
the long game in politics. Yeah, that stubbornness,
which would later be his undoing in many ways,
initially served him remarkably well in these
legislative fights for his core beliefs. As the
nation hurtled inexorably towards civil war,
Andrew Johnson found himself in an increasingly
precarious position. A southern politician and
slave owner who, paradoxically, remained fiercely
loyal to the Union. A very, very tight spot to
be in. Following John Brown's raid in 1859, tensions
over slavery intensified dramatically across
the country. Johnson, despite being a slaveholder
himself, delivered a major Senate speech in December
1859, decrying northerners who sought to outlaw
slavery. And in that speech, he infamously asserted
that the phrase all men are created equal from
the Declaration of Independence did not, in his
view, apply to African Americans, even citing
the Illinois Constitution, which barred voting
by African Americans to support his point. It's
a stark, uncomfortable reminder of the deep -seated
prejudices that existed even among those who
would ultimately fight to preserve the union.
He had even hoped to be a compromised presidential
candidate in 1860, positioning himself as a moderate.
Didn't work out. No. The Democratic Party fractured
irrevocably over the slavery question, ultimately
leading to Lincoln's election, which in turn
spurred widespread talk and then action. of secession
across the South. But when his state of Tennessee
and others began to secede, Johnson stood absolutely
firm. He famously declared with an almost prophetic
tone, I will not give up this government. No,
I intend to stand by it. And I invite every man
who is a patriot to rally around the altar of
our common country and swear by our God and all
that is sacred and holy that the Constitution
shall be saved and the Union preserved. Powerful
words. He even argued in a desperate plea that
if Southern senators would simply hold to their
seats, the Democrats could still control the
Senate and effectively defend Southern interests
against any perceived infringement by Lincoln's
incoming administration. It was a political argument
trying to keep them in. Exactly. But this unwavering
loyalty came at an incredibly high personal cost,
and it's a testament to his deeply ingrained
convictions. Despite threats on his life and
actual physical assaults, he campaigned tirelessly
against secession in Tennessee, sometimes even
speaking with a gun conspicuously placed on the
lectern before him. Wow, a gun on the lectern!
Yeah, a grim symbol of the dangers he faced.
When Tennessee ultimately joined the Confederacy
in June 1861, Johnson, believing he would be
killed if he stayed, fled through the Cumberland
Gap. or his party was actually shot at by Confederate
sympathizers. He had to leave his wife and family
behind in Greenville. Just fled for his life,
leaving his family. That's commitment. It really
is a testament to the acute danger and his profound
commitment to the Union cause. His commitment
to the Union, even as a Southerner, was undeniable
and singular. And because he was the only sitting
senator from a seceded state to remain in the
Union, he naturally had Lincoln's ear in the
early months of the war, a unique and powerful
position. Lincoln needed allies like him. This
led directly to Lincoln appointing him military
governor of Tennessee in March 1862 with the
rank of brigadier general after much of the state
had been retaken by Union forces. It was a role
that suited his forceful personality perfectly.
But in a cruel and deeply personal twist, the
Confederates retaliated swiftly. They confiscated
his land and his slaves, even going so far as
to turn his home into a military hospital, a
profound symbol of the war's intrusion into his
personal life. So while he's governing, his own
home is occupied territory. Exactly. As military
governor, Johnson was relentless in seeking to
eliminate rebel influence in the state. He demanded
loyalty oaths from public officials, shut down
Confederate newspapers, and bravely and effectively
defended Nashville against General Nathan Bedford
Forrest's daring cavalry raids. He wasn't messing
around. Not at all. And his stance on slavery?
deeply rooted as it was, also underwent a noticeable
evolution during this period of intense national
upheaval. When Lincoln issued the Emancipation
Proclamation in January 1863, Johnson, rather
surprisingly, requested that Tennessee be exempted.
And it was. Still holding on there. Initially,
yes. However, he eventually came to a stark,
pragmatic conclusion, stating that if the institution
of slavery seeks to overthrow it, the government.
then the government has a clear right to destroy
it. So slavery becomes the enemy of the government
he's trying to save. Precisely. He somewhat reluctantly
but decisively came to support efforts to enlist
former slaves into the Union Army. Ultimately
succeeding in recruiting 20 ,000 black soldiers
to serve the Union comes in Tennessee. That's
a significant number. It is. This shifting pragmatic
stance on slavery, coupled with his proven loyalty
as a Southern Democrat, paved the way for his
next truly unexpected role. In 1864, as Lincoln
sought re -election, he made a strategic choice
to replace his Republican vice president, Hannibal
Hamlin, with a war Democrat on his ticket. A
unity ticket. Exactly. The goal was to foster
national unity and send a powerful message about
the folly of secession. Johnson, with his background
as a Southern Unionist who had served as a successful
military governor, became the logical, even ideal
choice to symbolize the continuing capacity for
union within the country. So Lincoln ran under
the banner of the National Union Party, a wartime
coalition, not strictly Republican, and Johnson
was nominated for vice president on the second
ballot at the convention. Lincoln, upon hearing
the news, is famously reported to have simply
remarked, Andy Johnson, I think, is a good man.
A rather understated endorsement, wasn't it?
Yeah, for such a crucial political move. Johnson
actively campaigned, which was unusual for a
national candidate at the time, delivering speeches
across several states. He also controversially
sought to boost his chances in Tennessee by making
the loyalty oath there far more restrictive,
effectively disenfranchising supporters of the
Democratic presidential candidate. George McClellan.
A bit of political maneuvering there. Lincoln,
in his pursuit of national unity, did not intervene,
and their ticket successfully won Tennessee.
Then came the infamous inauguration on March
4th, 1865, a moment that would haunt his public
image. Jonathan may have been genuinely ill,
though historians continue to debate the exact
nature of his condition. Right, there's debate,
but the outcome. The outcome is undeniable. After
drinking heavily the night before and on the
morning of the ceremony, he delivered a rambling,
almost incoherent address in the Senate chamber
before a mortified Lincoln and other dignitaries.
Oh man, just a disaster. Total disaster. The
spectacle led to widespread public ridicule,
though Lincoln, ever charitable, later defended
him, stating, and he ate a drunkard. But this
public debacle wasn't just an embarrassment.
It fundamentally crippled his ability to command
respect from Congress and the public, creating
a trust deficit that defined his entire presidency
even before he officially took office just weeks
later. It must have been devastating to his standing.
And that sudden accession, of course, arrived
just over a month later. On April 14th, 1865,
Abraham Lincoln was shot by John Wilkes Booth
at Ford's Theater. And Johnson himself was also
targeted by Booth's co -conspirators. His would
-be assassin, George Atzerot, was assigned to
kill Johnson, but got drunk and failed to attack
him, lost his nerve. Incredible. So he escapes
assassination by chance. Pretty much. Johnson
rushed to Lincoln's deathbed. famously vowing
with a chilling intensity, they shall suffer
for this. They shall suffer for this. Following
Lincoln's death on April 15, Johnson was swiftly
sworn in as president by Chief Justice Salmon
P. Chase in a small, somber ceremony. Newspapers
of the day described his demeanor as solemn and
dignified and necessary contracts, a stark and
much needed contrast to his recent inaugural
behavior. He immediately asked all of Lincoln's
cabinet members to remain in their positions.
seeking continuity amidst chaos. And initially,
he took a surprisingly tough stance on the defeated
South. He rejected General Sherman's lenient
armistice agreement with Confederate General
Joseph E. Johnston, an agreement that would have
respected slave property. He wanted unconditional
surrender. Right. Johnson and his cabinet were
adamant that Sherman needed to secure a military
surrender without making political deals. He
also placed a significant $100 ,000 bounty on
Jefferson Davis, who was then a fugitive, giving
him the reputation of a man who would be hard
on the South. Which must have surprised some
people. Absolutely. More controversially, he
permitted the execution of Mary Surratt for her
role in Lincoln's assassination, an act that
sparked considerable debate. What's truly fascinating
here is how quickly public perception and Johnson's
own approach would shift from this initial, seemingly
punitive stance, setting the stage for one of
the most tumultuous and historically significant
presidencies in American history. As the dust
settled from the assassination and the final
throes of the Civil War, the nation immediately
pivoted to the monumental and deeply complex
task of reconstruction. Upon taking office, Andrew
Johnson had a very clear vision for how this
process should unfold. And it was his vision.
And it fundamentally clashed with the prevailing
sentiment in the North. particularly within Congress.
His primary goal was the speedy restoration of
the seceded states, asserting that they had never
truly left the Union and should therefore be
quickly recognized once loyal citizens formed
new governments with minimal federal intervention.
His approach to suffrage was, as you might expect
given his earlier remarks, a major point of contention.
Johnson firmly believed that African -American
suffrage was a state, not a federal, responsibility,
vehemently opposing any federal mandate. He saw
it as getting in the way. Yeah, he viewed it
as a delay and a distraction to the more immediate
goal of reunification and expressed fears, whether
genuine or politically convenient, that freedmen,
still economically bound to their former masters,
would simply vote at their direction, undermining
true independence. In Johnson's mind, Reconstruction
wasn't just about restoring the union. It was
also intrinsically linked to shifting political
power in the southern states. He aimed to dramatically
empower his favored plebeians, the small farmers,
the self -employed tradesmen, the yeoman class,
at the expense of the old planter aristocracy
that he had long resented. That class resentment
ran deep. And let's not overlook Johnson's personal
political ambition. He desperately sought to
win the 1868 election in his own right, a feat
no successor president had managed. And he believed
he could achieve this by building a powerful,
democratic, anti -congressional reconstruction
coalition in the South. So personal ambition
was definitely part of the mix. Oh, absolutely.
These presidential aims, however, were in direct
competition with various Republican visions,
which themselves were certainly not monolithic.
The radical Republicans, for example, were driven
by a profound desire for comprehensive voting
and civil rights for African Americans. I want
a real change. Real fundamental change. They
fervently believe that black votes would not
only secure Republican power in the South, but
also ensure that top Confederates were genuinely
punished for their rebellion, seeing justice
and political power as intertwined. On the other
hand, the moderate Republicans had somewhat different
priorities, often treading a middle ground. They
aimed primarily to keep Democrats out of national
power and prevent former rebels from quickly
resuming political influence. Right, less about
radical equality, more about control. While they
wanted to see African Americans treated fairly
and afforded basic protections, they were generally
less enthusiastic about universal black suffrage,
either due to their own local political concerns,
sometimes fueled by racial anxieties, or a belief
that freedmen might vote badly or be easily manipulated.
And then you had the Northern Democrats, who
largely favored the unconditional, swift restoration
of Southern states and unequivocally opposed
African -American suffrage, which they saw as
a threat to their traditional control in the
South and a violation of states' rights. So a
really fractured political landscape. Totally
fractured. With Congress in recess until December
1865, Johnson seized the initiative, left to
devise a reconstruction policy unilaterally.
He launched what became known as Presidential
Reconstruction. On May 29th, 1865, he issued
two crucial proclamations. Hey, what did they
do? One recognized the existing loyalist government
in Virginia, and the second provided a broad
amnesty for most ex -Rebels, with a notable exception
for those holding property valued at $20 ,000
or more, a clear jab at the wealthy planter class
he despised. So targeting his old enemies. Exactly.
He also authorized elections in other former
rebel states without making any provisions whatsoever
for black suffrage or the protection of freedmen's
rights. The South, feeling emboldened by Johnson's
lenient approach and seeing it as an opportunity
to regain lost ground, began to form new governments
and, shockingly, defiantly returned many of their
old Confederate leaders, including former Confederate
Vice President Alexander Stevens, to positions
of power in Washington. Just walking right back
in. More critically, they passed the notorious
Black Codes, a series of highly restrictive laws
designed to control the labor and behavior of
newly freed African Americans. These were really
awful. aren't they? Terrible. These codes bound
laborers to annual contracts they could not quit,
allowed for their arrest for vagrancy, and generally
imposed severe limitations on their freedom,
essentially placing freedmen in a position barely
above slavery. It was a brazen attempt to restore
a semblance of the old order. This Southern defiance,
particularly the election of unrepentant Confederate
leaders and the egregious Black Codes, proved
to be a critical miscalculation by both Johnson
and the South. When Congress finally convened
in December 1865, Northerners, who had just fought
a brutal war to end slavery and preserve the
Union, were absolutely outraged. You can imagine
they were furious. As a result, Congress immediately
refused to seat the Southern legislators, effectively
nullifying Johnson's presidential reconstruction.
Which really raises the question, did Johnson
truly misjudge Northern sentiment and the political
determination of Congress to ensure that the
immense sacrifices of the war had not been in
vain? It seems so. His actions seem to have inadvertently
solidified Republican opposition against him,
rather than uniting the country as he had hoped.
A massive misread. He absolutely misjudged the
mood and the political will of Congress. The
year 1866 marked a decisive, irrevocable break
between Johnson and the Republicans, setting
the stage for his eventual impeachment. Things
really went downhill fast in 66. Illinois Senator
Lyman Trumbull, a moderate Republican leader,
had genuinely attempted to work with Johnson,
skillfully ushering through Congress a bill to
extend the Freedmen's Bureau and the first civil
rights bill designed to grant citizenship to
Freedmen. But Johnson, Johnson vetoed them. Steph
asked in his belief that these were unconstitutional
infringements on state sovereignty and hoping
to isolate the radicals in Congress. He surprisingly
vetoed the Freedmen's Bureau bill in February
1866. This move, far from just isolating the
radicals, delighted white Southerners, but genuinely
puzzled and angered many Republicans, even moderates
who had been inclined to support him. And then
came the infamous Washington's birthday speech
on February 22nd, 1866. the speech. Yeah, it
was an impromptu hour -long address to supporters
gathered outside the White House during which
Johnson, with a remarkable self -absorption,
referred to himself over 200 times. 200 times?
Over 200. Far more damagingly in this unscripted
tirade, he publicly attacked prominent Republican
leaders like Congressman Thaddeus Stevens and
Senator Charles Sumner, accusing them incredibly,
of plotting his assassination. Accusing members
of Congress of plotting to kill him. Yes. Republicans
immediately viewed this as nothing less than
a declaration of war against Congress. And one
Democratic ally candidly estimated that Johnson's
ill -advised speech alone cost the party 200
,000 votes in the upcoming midterm elections.
The political damage was catastrophic. That speech
wasn't just a political disaster. It was a self
-inflicted wound of epic proportions. And it
was swiftly followed by another pivotal moment.
His veto of the Civil Rights Act of 1866 on March
27. Another veto. Johnson objected to the bill
primarily because it conferred citizenship on
freedmen when, in his view, 11 southern states
were unrepresented in Congress, and he disingenuously
claimed it discriminated in favor of African
Americans. But within three weeks, demonstrating
their newfound resolve and power, Congress overrode
his veto. Huge moment. A truly historic moment,
as it was the first time this had ever happened
on a major bill in American history. This act
is widely considered the most disastrous miscalculation
of his political career, finally convincing even
moderate Republicans that there was simply no
hope of working constructively with him. The
bridge was burned. The chasm between Johnson
and Congress widened further still with the proposal
of the 14th Amendment. This amendment, which
Johnson vehemently opposed, was specifically
designed to enshrine the key provisions of the
Civil Rights Act into the Constitution, making
them immune to future presidential vetoes or
Southern legislative action. Making it permanent.
Exactly. It extended citizenship to nearly everyone
born or naturalized in the US, except Native
Americans, penalized states that denied votes
to freedmen, created new federal civil rights
protections, and disqualified many former Confederates
from holding federal or state office. And in
a significant embarrassment to Johnson. Yeah,
his home state of Tennessee, despite his opposition,
was the first southern state to ratify the amendment.
And Congress immediately ceded its delegation,
further highlighting his isolation and the growing
ineffectiveness of his policies. Ouch. His attempt
to rally public support for his policies proved
to be the final nail in the coffin of his presidential
reconstruction. His national speaking tour, derisively
dubbed the Swing Around the Circle by critics,
was meant to garner public backing, but proved
utterly disastrous. Oh, the Swing Around the
Circle. It was bad. Johnson made controversial
comparisons between himself and Jesus, engaged
in heated arguments with hecklers from the audience,
and delivered rambling, undignified speeches,
actions that were widely deemed beneath the dignity
of the presidency. Just cringe -worthy stuff.
The tour backfired spectacularly, solidifying
public opinion against him. The Republicans won
the 1866 midterm elections in an absolute landslide,
securing a supermajority, well over a two -thirds
majority, in both houses of Congress. Which meant
they could override any veto he threw at them.
Precisely. This gave them unassailable control
of the direction of Reconstruction, completely
sidelining the president. He was basically powerless
against Congress now. With the Republicans holding
a commanding two thirds majority after the 1866
elections, radical Reconstruction truly took
hold in 1867, ushering in a period of intense
legislative action and a direct, unprecedented
confrontation with the president. Congress wasn't
holding back anymore. On March 7, 1867, Congress
passed the first Reconstruction Act, decisively
overriding Johnson's veto. This landmark legislation
fundamentally reshaped the South. It dissolved
the existing Johnson -backed Southern state governments,
divided the former Confederacy into five distinct
military districts, each under martial law and
led by a union general. Martial law in the South.
Crucially, it established processes for new constitutional
conventions, where African Americans were explicitly
permitted to vote and serve as delegates, while
many former Confederates were explicitly prohibited
from doing so. Restoration to the Union was now
firmly conditional on the state's ratification
of the 14th Amendment and the establishment of
Republican governments that protected civil rights.
So, Congress is dictating the terms, completely
bypassing Johnson. Past the very same day, also
over Johnson's veto, was the Tenure of Office
Act. Ah, the Tenure of Office Act. This becomes
key. Absolutely central. This controversial bill
stipulated that Senate approval was required
for the firing of any cabinet members who had
been appointed with Senate consent and for one
month afterward. Its constitutionality was immediately
questioned, particularly its applicability to
Johnson's cabinet, many of whom were Lincoln
holdovers who hadn't been initially appointed
by Johnson himself. So was it even legal? Did
it apply to Lincoln's guys? That was the million
dollar question. This is where the stage was
truly and dramatically set for the ultimate showdown
between the executive and legislative branches,
a battle over the very balance of power in American
government. And the focal point of that showdown
was none other than Secretary of War Edwin Stanton.
Stanton, a complicated figure. Stanton, a Lincoln
appointee, was an incredibly able and hardworking
man, but notoriously difficult to deal with,
highly opinionated and often abrasive. He, along
with the general Ulysses S. Grant, actively worked
to undermine Johnson's southern policy from within
his own administration, essentially acting as
an agent of Congress inside the cabinet. A spy
in the cabinet, basically. Johnson himself had
a very contentious relationship with Stanton,
admitting he both admired his capable abilities
and was utterly exasperated by his insubordination.
You can imagine the tension. Stanton, for his
part, refused to resign despite his public disagreements
with Johnson and the clear rift between them.
He dug his heels in. He feared that the president
would appoint a successor who would reverse the
reconstruction policies he and Congress supported,
effectively undoing all their legislative efforts.
So he saw himself as holding the line. Right.
In August 1867, Johnson, determined to remove
this thorn from his side, demanded Stanton's
resignation. When Stanton defiantly refused,
Johnson then suspended him, as permitted by the
Tenure of Office Act for congressional recesses,
and appointed General Ulysses S. Grant as a temporary
replacement while Congress was out of session,
hoping to resolve the issue more permanently.
Trying to use a loophole, maybe? But this temporary
arrangement quickly dissolved and led to even
greater conflict. In January 1868, the Senate,
upon reconvening, disapproved Johnson's suspension
of Stanton and formally reinstated him, contending
that Johnson had violated the Tenure of Office
Act by effectively trying to sideline him. And
Grant. He steps aside. Grant, rather than defying
the Senate's decision and over Johnson's explicit
objection to the decision, stepped aside, allowing
Stanton to return to his office. This led to
a complete break between Johnson and Grant, the
popular war hero, a crucial political defection
for the president. Losing Grant was huge. This
sequence of events set the stage for impeachment.
Johnson, now feeling completely defiant and cornered,
took the drastic step of directly dismissing
Stanton once again outright and appointed Major
General Lorenzo Thomas to replace him. He just
doubles down completely. Stanton, however, refused
to leave his office, effectively barricading
himself inside the War Department, turning it
into a dramatic standoff. Stanton locks himself
in his office. Seriously. Yes. On February 24th,
1868, the House of Representatives, seizing on
this clear challenge to their authority, voted
128 to 47 to impeach Johnson, primarily for intentionally
violating the Tenure of Office Act and for questioning
the legitimacy of Congress itself through his
fiery rhetoric. So impeachment it is. Eleven
articles of impeachment were ultimately adopted,
leading to the first presidential impeachment
trial in American history. The Senate trial began
on March 5, 1868 and lasted for an unprecedented
almost three months gripping the nation. Chief
Justice Salmon P. Chase presided over the proceedings,
turning the Senate chamber into a courtroom.
Hi, drama. Johnson's defense argued that the
Tenure of Office Act didn't actually apply to
Lincoln's appointees like Stanton, as they weren't
his appointments, and that the president had
the inherent right Indeed, the duty to test a
law's constitutionality if he believed it infringed
upon executive power. A constitutional argument
versus a political one. Pretty much. At his counsel's
insistence, Johnson himself remained silent throughout
the proceedings, relying entirely on his legal
team. Johnson, however, was far from inactive
behind the scenes. He actively maneuvered to
gain an acquittal, engaging in political horse
trading. He reportedly pledged to some moderate
senators that he would cease to interfere with
congressional reconstruction policies and even
promised to appoint the respected general, John
Scofield, as his new war secretary, a move designed
to appease concerns. So making deals to save
his skin. A crucial factor in his favor was also
the widespread unpopularity of his potential
successor, radical Republican Senator Benjamin
Wade, who, as president pro tempore of the Senate,
was next in line for the presidency. Ah, the
Wade factor. Exactly. Wade was seen as far too
radical by many. And his ascension would have
significantly complicated General Grant's own
presidential ambitions, creating a powerful incentive
for some to vote against conviction. Politics
make strange bedfellows. And it all came down
to a single nail -biting vote. On May 16, the
Senate voted on the 11th article of impeachment,
considered the strongest charge. The result was
35 guilty to 19 not guilty. What? Precisely one
vote short of the two -thirds majority required
for conviction. Seven Republican senators crossed
party lines to vote for acquittal, often facing
severe political consequences for doing so. Career
suicide for some of them. Subsequent votes on
other articles yielded identical results and
Johnson's opponents ultimately dismissed proceedings.
What's truly fascinating here is just how incredibly
close the outcome was and the profound implications
it had for the separation of powers. Yeah, it
really solidified the idea that impeachment should
be for grave offenses, not merely political disagreement
or policy differences, effectively setting a
very high bar for future attempts. Absolutely.
That razor -thin margin prevented a precedent
that might have fundamentally altered the balance
between the executive and legislative branches,
perhaps forever weakening the presidency. Following
the acquittal, Stanton relinquished his office
on May 26, effectively ending the standoff. And
the Senate, as Johnson had promised in his maneuvering,
confirmed John Scofield as the new Secretary
of War. The storm had passed, but the presidency
was severely weakened. Beyond the relentless
drama of reconstruction and impeachment, Johnson's
administration did have other facets, particularly
in foreign policy. Secretary of State William
H. Seward largely ran foreign policy, much as
he had under Lincoln, demonstrating a remarkable
continuity. Seward was still pulling the strings
there. Through quiet diplomacy, Seward successfully
achieved the withdrawal of French troops from
Mexico, who had installed a puppet emperor, Maximilian.
thereby upholding the Monroe Doctrine and scoring
a significant foreign policy victory for the
United States. A solid win on the foreign stage.
And of course, there was the famous Alaska Purchase
in 1867. Seward, always thinking strategically,
negotiated the purchase of Alaska from Russia
for $7 .2 million, which, to put it in modern
terms, is equivalent to about $162 million today.
Seward's Folly. Right. He famously overcame initial
Senate reluctance and public derision, where
it was often sarcastically called Seward's Folly
or Seward's Icebox. But as history proved, it
was a strategic and territorial coup, adding
vast natural resources and geopolitical advantage
to the United States. Good call, Seward. On the
domestic front, Johnson also signed the Southern
Homestead Act in 1866, believing it would assist
poor whites in acquiring land, though in reality
few former slaves actually benefited from it
due to various forms of discrimination and fraud.
Intent versus reality there. He also signed an
eight -hour workday law for federal employees
in 1868, which was seen as a progressive move
at the time. However, the good intentions behind
that law were immediately frustrated as wages
were simultaneously cut by 20%, leading to mixed
results and failing to deliver on its promise
for many. So kind of one step forward, one step
back on that one. These well -intended reforms
often struggled or were undermined in implementation,
reflecting the chaotic environment of his presidency.
Totally. As his term drew to a close, Johnson
sought the 1868 Democratic presidential nomination,
hoping to win the office in his own right, but
he ultimately failed to secure it with ratio
Seymour ultimately chosen as the nominee. No
second term for Johnson. Nope. His clashes with
Congress continued right to the very end of his
administration. He notably delayed the official
reporting of the 14th Amendment's ratifications
by the new Southern legislatures, clinging to
his constitutional objections. But Congress,
again, overrated his resistance, forcing him
to officially announce its adoption in July 1868.
Still fighting it till the end. In his final
months, Johnson, ever the Defiant One, issued
a controversial final amnesty on Christmas Day
1868, covering all Confederates, including Jefferson
Davis, much to the outrage of many in the North.
A final pardon for the Confederacy's leader.
Wow. He also controversially pardoned Dr. Samuel
Mudge, who had been convicted of involvement
in the Lincoln assassination conspiracy and in
a final symbolic act of defiance against his
rival and successor, Ulysses S. Grant. He skips
the inauguration. Johnson famously refused to
attend Grant's inauguration ceremonies on March
4th, 1869, leaving Washington hours before the
incoming president took office, cementing his
reputation as an outsider to the very end. So
Andrew Johnson's presidency ended not with a
bang, but with a symbolic snub, refusing to attend
Grant's inauguration. After leaving the highest
office, Johnson returned to Greenville, Tennessee
where, surprisingly, he was met with large public
celebrations and a warm welcome from his constituents.
Back home, he was still somebody. But his private
life remained deeply embittered by the tragic
suicide of his son Robert in 1869, a personal
blow amidst his public vindication. That's terrible.
Yet Johnson was not one to fade into the background.
Driven by a relentless desire for vindication
and revenge against his political enemies in
Washington, he immediately sought to return to
the national stage. He couldn't stay away. He
launched a Senate bid soon after returning home
in 1869, losing by a single vote a truly agonizing
defeat. He also ran for a special congressional
election in 1872, again without success. His
determination was almost superhuman. But the
tailor from Tennessee was nothing if not persistent,
utterly unyielding in his political ambition.
In early 1875, with Reconstruction fading and
African -American votes increasingly suppressed
in the South, he campaigned intensely, appealing
to the burgeoning farmers' grange movement and
harnessing local resentments. And incredibly.
He wins. On the 54th ballot by a single vote,
he was finally elected to the U .S. Senate, making
a remarkable political comeback. 54 ballots.
Insane. He famously remarked, thank God for the
vindication, seeing it as a personal triumph
over his detractors. To this day, he remains
the only former president to ever serve in the
Senate after leaving office. Just an unbelievable
capstone to his career. His comeback garnered
national attention and added another unique chapter
to his incredible life story. In his sole speech
during his final Senate term, delivered on March
20th, 1875, he lambasted President Grant for
using federal troops in Louisiana's reconstruction
government, vehemently arguing against federal
overreach. Back to his old themes. Exactly. He
famously asked, how far off is military despotism?
and concluded, may God bless this people and
God save the Constitution. A powerful, if brief,
return to the national stage, echoing his lifelong
constitutional convictions. Sadly, that remarkable
return was short lived. Johnson died just a few
months later on July 31st, 1875 at the age of
66 after suffering two strokes at his daughter's
farm. Gone just like that after fighting so hard
to get back. Per his wishes, he was buried wrapped
in an American flag with a copy of the U .S.
Constitution placed under his head, a final poignant
symbol of his enduring, if often conflicted,
patriotism. His burial ground later became the
Andrew Johnson National Cemetery. His historical
reputation, though, that's another story entirely.
It has undergone significant, almost kaleidoscopic
shifts over time, largely mirroring broader changes
in American society's understanding of race and
reconstruction. Yeah, his legacy is really a
moving target. Through the remainder of the 19th
century and into the early 20th century, early
historians often depicted him in contradictory
ways, as an obstinate boar by northerners. or
conversely as a flawed but sincere figure who
genuinely tried to implement Lincoln's plans
by Southern historians and figures like Woodrow
Wilson. And then the Dunning School. Right. The
Dunning School of Historians, which dominated
American historical thought for decades, even
celebrated him as a humane, enlightened and liberal
statesman fighting scheming and unscrupulous
radicals, a view now largely discredited for
its racist underpinnings. But the mid 20th century
brought a dramatic and much needed reevaluation.
From the 1950s onward with a growing focus on
the African -American experience and the burgeoning
civil rights movement, historical views shifted
fundamentally. The perspective changed completely.
Johnson was increasingly seen as a successful
saboteur of noble efforts to better the freedman's
lot, and Reconstruction itself began to be viewed
not as a period of misrule, but as a noble, though
flawed, effort to integrate formerly enslaved
people into American society and grant them their
fundamental rights. Today, the consensus among
historians is quite different and largely solidified.
Andrew Johnson is consistently ranked among the
worst US presidents. Yeah. usually near the bottom,
if not at the bottom. Historians widely cite
his complete mishandling of reconstruction policy,
his bristling personality, and his mean and crude
racism as factors that profoundly stunted his
leadership during a time when clear, compassionate
direction was desperately needed. Though some
do acknowledge his rise. Right. Some acknowledge
the miraculous quality of his rise from profound
poverty and the immense, almost insurmountable
difficulties of the era he had to confront. You
can't deny the climb. His lasting impact, then,
is often tied directly to the maintenance of
white supremacy and his deliberate undermining
of reconstruction, which, as our sources point
out, would trouble the country for generations
to come. That's the really tragic part of his
legacy. Ultimately, Johnson's presidency is a
powerful, perhaps even tragic, example of how
individual prejudices, even when cloaked in constitutional
arguments or appeals to states' rights, can profoundly
derail national progress, leaving a legacy of
racial division that echoed for over a century.
So we followed Andrew Johnson's incredible, improbable
journey from a self -taught tailor born into
abject poverty to the leader of a deeply divided
nation during its most challenging period through
an unprecedented impeachment trial and ultimately
back to the Senate. What a ride. His story is
a powerful testament to personal resilience and
ambition, but it's also a profound cautionary
tale about the perils of inflexible leadership
and deeply ingrained prejudices, especially when
confronting fundamental questions of human rights
and national identity. Indeed. From his unwavering
unionism and his championing of the plebeian
class to his deeply controversial and destructive
approach to reconstruction and his unprecedented
impeachment, Johnson's life was a series of defining
struggles that continue to shape our understanding
of American history. His unique personal history,
his unyielding, stubborn resolve, and his deeply
held convictions profoundly influenced the course
of a nation trying to heal and redefine itself
in the most turbulent of times. Okay, so we've
seen how Andrew Johnson's life was a testament
to sheer willpower and personal ambition, but
also how his choices, especially his steadfast
resistance to racial equality during Reconstruction,
deeply shaped a nation struggling to redefine
itself after a devastating war. Those choices
had consequences for generations. It raises an
important question for you, the listener, to
consider. How do leaders, even those with seemingly
good intentions for their vision of the country,
grapple with or perhaps fundamentally fail to
grapple with the essential human rights of all
citizens, especially in times of profound social
and political transformation? Hmm. It's a tough
question. And what does that tell us about the
responsibilities and challenges of leadership?
even today, when faced with similar questions
of inclusion and equity.