Gird Your Loins and Cast a Ballot

I just finished voting. (Cue applause.) With my “secret ballot” duly sealed, I just need to mail it or do a drive-by at a ballot drop. Oregon has no other options; it’s strictly “vote-by-mail,” something that is intended to generate greater voter participation.

One thing I don’t have to worry about is running a gauntlet of rowdy thugs demanding to see my ballot. That IS, however, the time-honored American way. Writing in the New Yorker, Jill Lepore describes the case of Baltimore voter George Kyle, who tried to vote for his state’s congressman in 1859:
"As he neared the polls…a ruffian tried to snatch his ballots. Kyle... heard a cry: his brother, just behind him, had been struck. Next, someone clobbered Kyle... “I felt a pistol put to my head,” he said. Grazed by a bullet, he fell….Someone else fired a shot, hitting Kyle in the arm. [A man] threw a brick, knocking him off his feet. George Kyle picked himself up and ran. He never did cast his vote. Nor did his brother, who died of his wounds."

Kyle’s candidate not only lost the election, he also lost his appeal of the election. The House of Representatives found that any “man of ordinary courage” could have made his way to the polls that day.

From the founding of the U.S. until the 20th century, elections would not be invalidated unless “there was such a display of force [by opposition party members at the polling place] as ought to have intimidated men of ordinary firmness.” The Baltimore incident described above was no isolated incident; nearly 90 prospective voters were killed in the mid-1800s when they tried to vote on Election Day.

Also interesting, George Kyle was carrying his ballot with him to the polling place. The notion of a “secret ballot” was unknown and many states didn’t allow voting on paper. (Heck, Kentucky stuck to voting “by voice” until 1891!)

If you did bring your own ballot, you might have to fill it out right there at the polling place, which had no isolation booth. You had to supply the paper and remember every candidate for every office. Spelled a name wrong? Your vote was invalid.

In 1859, there wasn’t a single locale in the U.S. that provided ballots for its voters. This led political parties to print their own “party tickets” for voters to return. To advertise the party, these ballots came to be printed on colossal, bright sheets of paper that couldn’t be easily concealed as a person went to the polling place.

The state of Maine wised up to this and in 1831, protected voters by requiring uniform ballots. (Of course, the state didn’t actually PROVIDE the ballots.) This was not an example other states followed; secret ballots were suspicious; why would an honest American hide his political opinion?

But by following the example set by advanced civilizations like Australia and Maine, by 1896, government-printed ballots were used in 39 states. By the way, voter turnout during the 1800s averaged about 80% nationally. Though more types of people can vote safely today, we’re lucky to get 50% of people to the polls.

Cynics say that after the 2000 election debacle, people feel disenfranchised. Puh-leeze. Dismal voter turnouts predated 2000. It used to take bravery to vote in the U.S. Now that it’s safe and easy, one only has to care.

Both historic images above are from the Library of Congress; both are taken from Harper's Weekly. The first is from 1857, and the second (titled "The First Vote") is from a decade later.

A Fast Velocipede to Oregon

In the 21st century, the state of Oregon is known for its bike-friendly ways. Heck, even Portland police officers pedal in style; check out Portland's finest on a Belgian tall bike.

The Library of Congress has what may well be the first illustration linking bicycles with Oregon. The detail below is from “The Patriots Getting Their Beans,” an 1845 cartoon mocking new President James K. Polk's campaign supporters. The idea is that these sycophants (the "patriots") now want "beans," i.e., patronage and other official favors.
Polk's campaign platform favored favored expanding the U.S. in any way possible, including the re-annexation of the Oregon Territory. Thus we have a militia troop carrying a banner "For Oregon!! Liberty! or Death!!!" Their leader proclaims, "Follow me brave soldiers, strike but one blow, and Oregon is ours!"

Riding the primitive bicycle (or “velocipede" if you prefer) is South Carolinian John C. Calhoun. He was a frustrated aspirant for the 1844 Democratic nomination that Polk got, and departs the scene here in disgust. (Though Calhoun says he’s going south, he’s clearly headed west.)

At the top right, a German or Dutchman leaves in disgust, shouting, "Dod rot this administration! I've lost my sittivation that [former President John] Tyler give me, that was worth $15 a year! Dod rot 'em, I say!" Anyway, here's the full cartoon.
The above photo courtesy of cleverchimp. My sources are here.

Henry Brown: Escape Artist

Henry “Box” Brown (b. 1816) achieved fame in 1849 for packing himself into a large shipping crate and having himself mailed from Virginia (where he was a slave) to Philadelphia (where he emerged a free man).
The above 1850 lithograph is a somewhat fanciful depiction of Brown's unpacking; that's Frederick Douglass to the left. (No, I don't know why the man on the right is holding a picnic basket.) Suddenly famous, Henry "Box" Brown became a spokesperson for the abolitionist movement, and as the Library of Congress notes, "The box itself became an abolitionist metaphor for the inhumanity and spiritual suffocation of slavery."

Fearful of professional slave hunters, Brown traveled to England and put on exhibitions and and magic shows where he was mailed from one performance to the next. (The act would begin with him being unpacked from a crate.) This theme was so popular, Brown added an act where he escaped from a suspended canvas bag wrapped with a padlocked chain. (Decades later, a Hungarian immigrant to the U.S. whose stage-name was Houdini took escapism to new heights.)

My sources are here.

What's So Hard About Self-Decapitation?

Harry Kellar (1849-1922) was a huge name in American magic in the late 19th/early 20th centuries. And he went out on top; after being named the first "Dean of American Magicians," Kellar retired a year later. But while he was performing, Kellar had arguably the finest posters of any performer. (Houdini's are dismal by comparison.)

As to Kellar's act, I can't really comment, but self-decapitation? Please. It's all done with smoke and mirrors and floating heads. (The guy supposedly had some pretty impressive levitation skills as well.)
These images are both from the Library of Congress; see my subset of them here or the whole LoC shebang here.

Campaign Blast from the Past: Trapped by the Whigs

As previously noted, America’s Whig Party made liberal use of libations at election time. This strategy did not always go down smoothly; this anti-Whig woodcut from Louisiana mocks the Whigs’ predilection for “entrapping” voters with free alcohol. (The log cabin was a Whig symbol.)
What an innocent age! Of course, today's voters are WAY too sophisticated to fall for traps of this primitive nature. (Although if one were to substitute a free cell phone for the cider...) The text below accompanied the anti-Whig woodcut:
"Tip. and Ty." were William Henry Harrison (aka, Tippecanoe) and John Tyler (Ty), the Whig candidates of 1840. They won, and both men got to be President of the United States. Score one for free hard cider.
Images from the Library of Congress, Rare Book and Special Collections Division