Monday, April 4, 2011

A Constitutional Crisis

It is an ironic time in presidential history.

Two months ago, Ronald Reagan's 100th birthday was observed. Not long before that was the 25th anniversary of the Challenger disaster, and I always felt the speech Reagan gave on that day was the defining moment of his presidency.

Last fall was the 30th anniversary of Reagan's election as president, and last week was the 30th anniversary of the attempt on his life.

It hasn't all been about Reagan in recent years, though, even if many modern presidential wannabes want to wrap themselves in Reagan's persona.

Two years ago, we marked the bicentennial of Abraham Lincoln's birth. Before this month is over, we will observe the 150th anniversary of the start of the Civil War and the 50th anniversary of the Bay of Pigs invasion.

And, even though the president announced his re–election bid today — which happens to be the anniversary of the assassination of Martin Luther King — it isn't really about Barack Obama today.

Before Reagan became the oldest man to be elected president, the man who held that historical distinction was William Henry Harrison.

But Harrison didn't have long to enjoy the trappings of office, such as they were in those days. He died of pneumonia on this day in 1841, precisely one month after taking the oath of office.

When I was a child, the story I heard was that Harrison got sick on inaugural day, and his sickness led to his death a month later.

It is true, as I verified in my later studies, that it was chilly and wet the day Harrison was sworn in, and the new president, in his zeal to demonstrate that he was still as vibrant as he had been when he commanded troops during the War of 1812 (after being ridiculed during the 1840 campaign as "Granny" by his rivals), delivered an address that took almost two hours to read and then rode in the inaugural parade, all without an overcoat or hat.

But the weather that day, historians have since determined, did not lead to the pneumonia that caused Harrison's death. He came down with a cold about three weeks later, and the cold quickly turned into pneumonia. Harrison's doctors applied the treatments of the day, but they only succeeded in making things worse. Barely a week after becoming ill, Harrison was dead.

This led to the first constitutional crisis involving presidential succession in American history.

In fact, although it may seem an obvious thing in the 21st century, when the Constitution was written in the late 18th century, the subject of presidential succession was never really addressed. The Constitution only spoke of an "acting president" and never really answered the question of whether this "acting president" would become the actual president.

There was, actually, considerable disagreement between a couple of sections in the Constitution, and strict adherence to either would have resulted in severely conflicting definitions of the vice president's role.

When Harrison died, Vice President John Tyler took it upon himself to interpret the Constitution and decided that he was more than an "acting president." With that, Tyler could be said to have established a precedent, resolving any debates over whether the vice president would become president upon the death or disability of the duly elected president.

The subject remained unaddressed for more than 125 years, even though four presidents were assassinated, three others died of presumably natural causes and one came within a single vote in the Senate of being removed from office during that time — until the passage of the 25th Amendment, which spelled out not only the order of presidential succession but also a method for selecting a vice president to fill a vacancy and a procedure for the temporary transfer of presidential authority.

We just observed the 30th anniversary of the attempt on President Reagan's life. If you count the assault on Blair House in 1950, where President Truman was living while the White House underwent extensive renovation, it is the longest period between attacks on a sitting president, a president–elect or a former president since the Lincoln assassination in the mid–19th century.

I hope we do not face that kind of crisis again. But, if we do, you can thank John Tyler for showing us what to do.

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