Politicians In Mortal Combat

Abraham Lincoln and his soon-to-be-wife Mary Todd had written some inflammatory letters to the editor defaming Illinois state auditor James Shields, mocking him and calling him “overly pompous.”

It was 1824, and Shields responded by challenging Lincoln to a duel, which was to take place in Missouri.

The Code Duello says that the person challenged gets to choose the weapon for the duel.  Lincoln did not choose the traditional pistol; he wisely chose broadswords.  Abe crossed the Mississippi River into West Alton, Missouri, ready for mortal combat.  James Shields took one look at the length of Abe’s arms, and called the duel off.  Abe won.

There was no winner in the 1831 duel between Thomas Biddle (brother of the head of the Bank of the United States) and Congressman Spencer Pettis.  At that time, Thomas Biddle owned a huge part of Valley Park, where my buddy Randy and I live now.  

Thomas Biddle was insensed when the Congressman insulted his brother.  Biddle took a cowhide whip into St. Louis and thrashed the Congressman, who later challenged Biddle to a duel.

This duel took place on St. Louis’ most popular dueling ground: a sandbar in the Mississippi River called Bloody Island.  Biddle chose pistols for the duel; since he was far-sighted, he chose five paces.

The outcome was predictable: both men died of gunshot wounds.

Bloody Island eventually disappeared when Robert E. Lee of the Army Corps of Engineers altered the channel of the Mississippi River.

Dueling, just like Bloody Island, eventually disappeared as a means of settling political disputes.

However, last night I watched the 2012 vice presidential debate.  In previous years, the opponents had stood at separate podiums.  But now they were seated at the same table.  The debate grew heated and intense.

I grew nervous when I saw that Joe Biden and Paul Ryan were within striking distance of each other.  The candidates no weapons, but I was waiting for them to punch each other with their fists or bop each other with microphones or grab a necktie and try to choke their opponent.

I wondered how far we have come from the day when Abraham Lincoln crossed into Missouri, with broadswords, ready for mortal combat.

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Here is a photo of a futile legislative attempt to stamp out dueling in 1822, one year after Missouri became a state:

http://www.sos.mo.gov/archives/education/dueling/1822Anit-DuelingStatute.pdf

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NOTE: Doug's best stories have been collected into a book: Puppy Out Of Breath.  Price = $11.  You can purchase a copy at  http://www.puppyoutofbreath.com

Bigger Than Texas

I walked into the auditorium with a friend from Austin, and he gasped, "This is bigger than Texas."

My friend was really saying that he found it hard to believe there is an auditorium outside of Texas bigger than any auditorium inside Texas.  He found it was especially hard to believe that a place like Minneapolis has such an auditorium.

We were at a free orchestra concert.  Northrup Auditorium was built in 1929 as the central ceremonial site of the University of Minnesota.  Northrup is vast: It has 4,800 seats --- 2,000 more seats than Carnegie Hall.

The next event I attended in Northrup cost two bucks.  It was a solo concert by an 82-year-old nurse.  This nurse had once been a successful blues singer in her younger days, touring all over Europe.  Her name was Alberta Hunter.

Alberta sang for us.  She did not show her age; instead, she showed humility on stage.  She was nearly overwhelmed by seeing all the people who came out to listen to her after she had been out of the limelight for decades.

My next concert at Northrup was Bonnie Raitt and it cost way more than two bucks.  

I approached the concert with a bit of trepidation: friends of mine had been ushers at a concert by The Animals the previous week.  My friends said the audience grew restless and resentful because The Animals refused to sing their old classics.  They only sang their new music, which irritated the the audience who had come to hear the old classics.

However, Bonnie Raitt's audience was not restless, much less resentful.  They were absorbed.

Bonnie showed humility on stage.  She told us, with a tone of awe in her voice, that Koerner, Ray, and Glover were in the audience.  As far as I knew, these guys were just an ordinary folk trio playing a few venues in Minneapolis.  

I had no idea they had been around for a long, long time.  Bonnie told us that Koerner, Ray, and Glover had inspired her, had encouraged her, and had helped launch her career.

Then Bonnie pointed to someone else in the audience: her father.  She invited him up on the Northrup Auditorium stage.  She didn't give us his name, she simply asked him to sing a song --- without a microphone.  I was astonished that she would ask someone to sing without a mike in a vast auditorium.  Was this a prank?

It soon became clear that it was not a prank.  Bonnie's father's voice was clear and sweet and strong.  Then I remembered that there had been a Broadway musical actor named John Raitt....was he Bonnie's father?  

My astonishment turned to amazement: an old man’s un-miked voice filled an auditorium bigger than Texas.  It must have been John Raitt.

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YouTube video of Bonnie Raitt and John Raitt singing Irving Berlin's "They Say It's Wonderful" (3-minute video)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pmyBA2xPN4g&feature=related

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NOTE: Doug's best stories have been collected into a book: Puppy Out Of Breath.  Price = $11.  You can purchase a copy at  http://www.puppyoutofbreath.com