6 Degrees of Seperation

February 21st, 1848:  6th President John Quincy Adams @ 80 Years Old

        Giving the heavy wooden door a tug, I enter the cavernous expanse within.  Designed in the style of an ancient Greek amphitheater, the space is sufficient for its designed function, despite a few shortcomings.    
        When viewed from above, the room layout rotates slightly past hemispherical.  The ceiling arcs up gently, a smooth, curved surface that provides a visual benefit, but an acoustic detriment, to this hallowed hall.  The ceiling is constructed of plaster, most of which is painted gold, except for the sequentially placed coffers, whose bright white treatment highlights the depth, and geometric precision, of these aesthetic recesses.  
     An impressive engineering feat indeed, especially considering the complexity of the surface curvature.  It’s unfortunate that this is the second rendition of this classy chamber.  The British were not friendly to the Capital Building during the War of 1812, when they laid siege, lighting up many of our strategically important structures. 
       Despite the beauty of the space, I feel a tinge of monotony as I head to my assigned seat.  I’m in the same stuffy chamber for another day of endless debates.  My previously interesting life has been reduced to a repetitive bore.  
         I’m not sure what the average age of the people in this room is, but it’s got to be over 50.  Apparently, many of these old folks have resigned themselves to a life of mundane drudgery.  Or maybe they just enjoy the reliable structure: wake-up, eat, debate, sleep, repeat.  Having just turned 39 last week, I can’t help but hope that my remaining days on earth will offer more adventure that this. 
        As representatives find their place for the morning session, the echoes of various amiable conversations bounce off the high-arched ceiling, and ring through the tall marble columns.  
       This layout of the room facilitates lively banter, but the poor acoustics make speeches difficult to follow, especially for some of the older, deafer, members of the constituency.  
      According to some of these elder politicians, numerous efforts have been made over time to improve the echoey quality of this space, including leaving entry doors open, hanging large tapestries on the walls, and even reconfiguring the entire seating arrangement so the point of interest is in back of the room.  
        None of these modifications offered a significant improvement, so we’re now back in the originally designed layout.  Despite the sound challenges, it’s a majestic auditorium, fit for official government business. 
     Heavy wooden desks have been arranged to mimic the round contour of the walls, each one offering enough workspace for multiple Congressmen.  Above our ground-level position, a second-floor balcony rings the room, providing additional seating for politicians, dignitaries, and other necessary visitors interested in the daily legislative branch proceedings that occur here.  
      This is the 30th Congress of our great Nation.  In my opinion, it’s still a work in progress.  Our group is currently assembled in the Hall of the House, as this space has been dubbed, a large room located just south of the center rotunda in the U.S. Capital building.  
        I’ve negotiated with my party to serve just one term.  I’m the only representative of the Whig Party from Illinois, but we’re hoping to change the ratio in the future, as this relatively new political institution takes off.  
        It took me two tries to earn this Illinois 7th District seat in the House of Representatives, and I’m trying to soak up as much information from the senior members as possible.  The problem is, sometimes the legislative proceedings are just too boring.
        Us Whigs have a slight edge in the House this term, with 116 voting members, we command just 8 more seats that the Democratic minority.  Not that it matters much.  
        The Democrats have a significant lead in the Senate, controlling well over 60% of the 54 available spots in this more influential government chamber.  As is typical with a politically split Congress, legislative progress has been slow, non-existent really, during the first 11 months at my new post. 
         As a freshman in Congress, I have been assigned a position further back, and at a wider angle, than most of the other seating options.  This location suits me well enough.  Being young, and temporary, I’m here more to observe than to act.  All the chair positions of the room focus its occupants on a single spot, regardless of where they are located.  The center of the flat chord wall, where the Speaker’s rostrum is positioned.  
        Directly above and behind this pulpit, stands a magnificent statue.  Lady Liberty herself, twice life size, holding the Constitution in her right hand above a majestic American eagle, the national bird.  Meanwhile, a serpent coiled around a column just to her left constantly reminds us all about the importance of wisdom in our governing decisions.  A beautiful, and powerful, overseer. 
      Checking the large grandfather clock on the wall, I see there’s a few minutes before the morning session starts.  Dropping my papers at my assigned position, I walk around the perimeter of the room, ending up at the very front row.  
        Seated there stoically is a short, thin gentleman who is almost completely bald.  This elderly personage is definitely bringing the average age of the constituency up significantly.  While diminutive in stature, and frail in figure, there’s not a single person in attendance that I have more respect for.  
         In fact, during the 4 months last winter when this honorable personage was absent from the chamber, the room felt empty, and the balance of political power shifted tangibly.
         I think back to the day he returned to work, having recovered from a major stroke suffered just before Thanksgiving of 1846.  This ailment left him partially paralyzed for several months, but over time most physical functionality returned.  I had the good fortune to visit him on a few legislative consulting activities while he was incapacitated, so got to see his healing progress in real time.  
       As a result, on the day he returned to work last year, I was not as surprised by his rough condition as many in the Hall, as evidenced by the hushed gasps which drifted through the amphitheater.  While still able to walk, being bedridden for months does not tend to improve anyone’s physique.  
        After the whispers subsided upon his entry, the 200-plus House representatives all rose in unison, and applauded for their aged colleague.  It was one of the most poignant, and emotional, events of my political career to date. 
     This historic gentleman’s name has grown synonymous with this chamber.  Having been selected by the House participants in the 1825 contingent presidential election, when the popular vote failed to reach a majority, John Quincy Adams was inaugurated as America’s 6th Executive branch leader in this very room over two decades ago.  
        Since then, he’s likely spent more of his waking hours in this sacred hall than any other space in Washington, DC.
       Unlike all 5 previous presidents, who rode off into the sunset after their time leading the nation, John Quincy Adams has remained dedicated to serving his country.  
       After losing the 1828 presidential election to Andrew Jackson, Adams was lost and depressed.  The unexpected suicide of his eldest son, named George Washington Adams in honor of the United States first president, the following spring threated to push J. Q. Adams into a spiral of depression.  At least, that’s what the national tabloids published at the time.
      Looking for guidance and direction, Mr. Adams decided to continue his political career, earning a Massachusetts Congress seat in the 1830 election.  Going on his 18th year in the role, he hasn’t relinquished his House seat since.  
        While his partisan affiliations have changed over the last few decades, his values have not.  Starting out running in the now defunct National Republican party, Adams currently serves as a Whig like myself.  In fact, he and I share many similar political views. 
         Reaching his position, I drop to a knee, which positions me closer to his seated eye level, but still slightly above him.  The effects of the stroke are evident in his slouched posture, the right side of his body perceptibly limb.  Also, Adams hands are trembling noticeable, an ailment he’s had since a boy, but the effects have gotten noticeably worse with age and ailment.  This twitch makes writing difficult, which is particularly unfortunate for a man who prides himself on elegant script, having kept a daily diary for the past 6 decades.
         Placing my hand gently on his shoulder, I gently offer “Good morning, Mr. Adams.”  
       His response, a hushed whisper of wordless content, and a virtually imperceptible nod of the head, is all I expect.  The stroke has left him constantly fatigued, and he’s very selective about exertion of energy.  No worries, just having this famous figure acknowledge my presence is more than I deserve.
       Even at 80 years old, hunched back making him appear shorter than he already is, nearly bald aside from some wispy, white strands which extend out from the sides of his head, and basically immobilized without aid from others, this is still not a person to mess with.  
        Despite his extended age and failing body, Adams’ mind remains razor sharp, decades of information filed away for immediate access as needed.  He has hotly debated nearly every person on the House floor over the years, especially the old guard southern Democrats.
       From what I’ve seen in my short time as a freshman representative, Mr. Adams still has the ability to demonstrate command over the entire chamber.  You don’t earn a nickname like “Old Man Eloquent” overnight.  Plus, as a former president, his social standing makes it impossible for this verbal sparring to escalate to caning or pistol duels, as is common these days. 
        The consensus amongst all House of Representative members is clear.  Don’t mess with John Quincy Adams. He’s too sophisticated, too smart, too shrewd, and most importantly, too stubborn. 
      Of all his work in Congress, there’s one polarizing topic which Mr. Adams has fought adamantly against for years.  Slavery.  
       This commitment to the cause during his voting tenure is admirable, but not surprising, since upholding the moral standards of the nation’s Founding Fathers guides his own principles.  Despite an explicit slavery clause being deleted from the final version of the Declaration of Independence, and the Three-Fifths Compromise being accepted at the Constitutional Convention, Adams knew in his mind, and heart, the leaders who drafted these documents were generally opposed the institution of slavery.  
        Instances of his devotion to fighting human oppression based on this fundamental premise are numerous: speaking out against powerful southern slave owners, representing a group of captured Africans on the Spanish slave ship Amistad in front of the Supreme Court, and resisting the potential annexation of the pro-slavery territory of Texas. 
        The coup de gras of this relentless pursuit is related to the so-called “Gag Rule.”  Unfortunately, this polarized battle finally culminated in 1844, before my time in Congress.  However, the epic tale is often retold at a communal working lunch, or with more amusing vigor, over pints at the pub.  The various renditions of the story differ depending in the political affiliation of the orator, but a few of the details are perpetual.
       The archaic “Gag Rule” was a legislative trick forced through by Southern representatives back in 1836, designed to prohibited petitions related to slavery in the House of Representatives.  Mr. Adams felt this rule was an attack on the basic principles of democracy, and therefore needed to be overturned.  His main argument was based on one of the foundational tenants of the United States Constitution, freedom of speech.
       Using a variety of clever parliamentary debate tactics, many learned during his years as a practicing lawyer, Adams relentlessly attacked the legality of the “Gag Rule”.  In his mind, limiting discussion on any topic in the House, a legislative body tasked with representing the people of the country as a whole, went directly against the goals of those who established the original governmental framework.  He made it a life mission to fix this transgression.
       Facing potential censure in the House several times, Adam’s used these opportunities to make lengthy, passionate declarations about the evils of human servitude.  His combatants were not amused, but lacked the political clout, or mental tact, to supplant former president John Quincy Adams.  His litigation efforts frequently made national newspapers, uniting most of the North against this censorship of slavery.  
        By the time the “Gag Rule” was officially revoked after 8 years of legislative battling, Mr. Adams had earned a new, less endearing nickname from his southern Democrat colleges.  The “Hell Hound of Abolition”.  A fitting, and accurate, title.
         I wish I could have been around to witness the final elimination of the “Gag Rule”.  While I’m still formulating my own thoughts on the complex issues regarding slavery, I’m definitely for equal treatment of all humans under the law, thought feasible enforcement of this principle is less clear.  I have much to learn if I want to be a politician for life. 
         Leaving my placid mentor, who appears to be deep in thought, as he almost always is, I return to my seat near the back of the Hall.  Just as I get settled, a gavel strike from the front podium signals the start of the legislative proceedings.  Good timing, I’m starting to get the hang of this system.  
        The main topic on the docket today is commendations for American soldiers who fought in the recently resolved war with Mexico.  This seems like an innocent topic with bi-partisan support.  Who wouldn’t want to honor the young men who fought bravely to expand the United States territory?  
          John Quincy Adams, based on my knowledge of his scruples.
        Adams sentiments on the Mexican War are well known to this congregation, and not without supporters.  Many feel President James K. Polk baited our neighbors to the south into battle, by placing large amounts of U.S. troops along the Texas border.  When Mexican forces predictably engaged these American invaders in 1845, Polk had the aggression he needed to convince Congress to declare war on Mexico.  
        Adams, and other congressmen, felt this tactic was ill-conceived and prevocational, but the Democratic majority won the day, and war commenced.
       The two factors at play, the concept of Manifest Destiny, and the issue of slavery, conspired to widen the gap between the southern Democrats and northern Whigs regarding the Mexican War.  Annexing Texas as a slave state would throw off the equilibrium of regional power in the United States legislative system, and the concept of expanding westward along the country’s southern border, without utilizing the northern land which was readily available all the way out to the Pacific Ocean, was another point of contention. 
      Adams, the consummate negotiator, was particularly vested in this land battle.  It was the aptly named Adams-Onis treaty, that he negotiated with Spain way back in 1819, which in additional to adding Florida to the United States, defined key Mexican borders extending westward.  This agreement established the Oregon Territory as American, and the Alta California region for Mexico.  
          Diplomacy always was one of Mr. Adams’ specialties, even at a young age.   
      Now, in his mind, not only has the U.S. military engaged in an invasive, borderline illegal, war, but the obtuse southern diplomats are looking for remunerations and commendation for their soldiers.  The aggressive actions of President Polk, and the local citizens in Texas, expressly violated the conditions established in his carefully crafted treaty.  Apparently, this was the last straw for J. Q. Adams in his old age. 
        I’m one of several other people in Congress who have the same view as former President Adams.  Like most of my Whig colleagues, I feel it’s more valuable to devote America’s limited resources to industrial production, and other, more economically beneficial pursuits, than war.  Granted, I’m not nearly tenured enough to speak up in front of this group of high society gentlemen.  And my motivations with regards to the Mexican-American War are likely different than most others.
         The current president, James K. Polk, and I, have an ongoing tiff.  A few months ago, I wrote a scathing commentary of the war efforts, entitled the “Spot Resolutions”, in which I demanded military leaders identify where the Mexican attacks were initiated, and if, in fact, the skirmish started on federal or foreign land.  This was one of my first lessons in how complex, and cutthroat, American politics can be.  
         I’m still trying to regain my honor, and respect, from that public letter.  Apparently, penning a dissenting option of a sitting President of the United States isn’t a wise decision.  But that doesn’t change my option about the war efforts in general, especially now that all the costs can be fully tallied.
        The Mexican-American War is finally over, after two grueling years, the treaty having been signed just three weeks ago.  Rumor has it the final agreement will be coming to a Congressional vote for ratification early next month, but the basics of the contract have already been shared out to us politicians.   
          Mexico is acknowledging the Texas border will be defined by the Rio Grande River.  They are also ceding their land rights north of the 32nd Parallel, all the way westward to the Pacific Ocean, which includes the prize Alta California region.  Based on the payment terms, the United States is going to increase its land area by nearly 20%, at a rate of just 5 cents per acre.  
         But was this expansion worth the cost?  Upwards of 10k Americans are dead, with at least twice that number on the Mexican side; many of these bodies not trained soldiers, but civilians caught up in the disjointed fighting which defined this unorganized war.  And what about the numerous Native America tribes spread throughout this territory who will inevitably be displaced as our American hordes drift westward?  
         I watch amusedly as they start the roll call for voting.  Some individuals are so crouched over at their desks, it’s hard to tell if they are awake or asleep; often requiring a gentle nudge from their neighbor.  Others, anticipating their turn, chime in before the orator has even finished their surname.  There’s no shortage of eccentric characters here.  
         I look down towards John Quincy Adams.  Like many on the floor, I can judge his level of aggravation by the color of his shiny, bald head.   Stark white is calm, rosy pink is engaged, fiery red is angry.  
       As the voting works through the constituency from the back to front of the concentrically ringed desk rows, my higher vantage point afforded by my height gives me an excellent view of the changing shades of this round dome.  As the tallies of consent pile up, Adam’s skin tone begins to resemble a rapidly ripening tomato.    
       The key House representatives, those seated in the front row, have the privilege of voting last, an honor afforded based on their seniority, which allows them the added benefit of seeing how their junior colleagues respond.  As the roll moves across this distinguished bunch, a steady stream of “Aye!” continues.  Then John Quincy Adams finally gets his turn. 
        Raising from is chair, which adjusts his distorted height from 3’-5” to 5’-3”, he spews a single word in a gravelly voice.  “No!” 
        The Hall’s occupants issue a collective startled gasp, not based on Adams’ dissention, but instead by the forcefulness of the response from an 80-year-old man, who could easily be confused with a mute, at this advanced stage of his career.  The Speaker of the House, pauses the polling process, intrigued to solicit more insight into the firm utterance.
      Sensing his opportunity, the elderly Adams appears to grow a few more inches, and makes a hand motion which symbolizes he wishes to address the masses.  However, as he prepares to launch on one of his famous soliloquies, his body shutters, then topples forward into the hard, wooden desk.  
        A brief moment of shocked silence transitions to confused pandemonium in the chamber.  House representatives and staff are rushing in all directions, with no sense of order or purpose.  By the time I can thread my way down to the front, where I knelt just a few hours before, several of the younger, more resourceful, politicians have maneuvered Mr. Adams limp body down to the ornately carpeted floor, and rolled him onto his back.      
         Breathing is shallow.  Heartbeat feeble. Complexion now ashen.  This does not look good.  We’ll need to find a quiet place for him to rest, and summon a doctor immediately.
        The remainder of the day is tense and traumatic.  However, by the early evening, we have finally gotten Mr. Adams sedated on the cot in the room of the Speaker.  His physician, and wife, have both arrived, so he’s now in more capable hands than I can provide.  Offering my sincere condolences, I take my leave.
       As I wander home, my emotions shredded, I contemplate what transpired today.  The old, balding man now lying prostrate has become my mentor during my short legislative career, and has earned the respect of the entire House, despite his polarizing political views.  People don’t live forever, and four-fifths of a century is a good run, but it seems like Mr. Adams still has much to contribute to his country.  
         Little do I know, just two days later, John Quincy Adams, will be pronounced dead, having never really regained full consciousness, or left the sofa where he currently lies.  It’s a huge loss for our American legislative proceedings, considering the man dedicated his life to our fledgling republic.  
        Upon his robust morals, the seeds of war have been sown.  This conflict threatens to be a civil war, as the members of the United States Congress, and its citizens at large, continue to become more divided on key issues like slavery and expansionism, which will shape our nation in the years to come.  I can only pray that I will stick to my core beliefs, and represent the American people honestly and justly.