Tag: 4th of July

Born on the 4th of July

“A real, live nephew of my uncle Sam, born on the 4th of July”

            –George M. Cohan, “Yankee Doodle Dandy”

The U.S. was born on the 4th of July (1776). As reported in my last blog, there is some question about the accuracy of that statement, but most people accept it and celebrate our nation’s birth that day.

Giuseppe Garibaldi was born on the 4th of July (1807). Garibaldi was an Italian patriot who could accurately be called the “George Washington of Italy.”  He led a rag-tag army of “Red Shirts” to key victories in the war to unify Italy. After achieving unification in 1861 and helping to create the modern nation of Italy, he was a popular leader who could have ruled the new country as a dictator. He believed strongly in a republican form of government, however, and instead retired to the island of Caprera, refusing to accept any reward for his services. The true story is a bit more complicated than this, but one British historian referred to him as “the only wholly admirable figure in modern history.”

President Calvin Coolidge was born on the 4th of July (1872). As vice-president, he succeeded to the presidency following the death of Warren G. Harding in 1923. He was not very ambitious or successful as president, best known for his reticence in speaking and for sleeping twelve hours a day while in office. That record for napping was reportedly surpassed by Ronald Reagan in the 1980s.

Ron Kovic was born on the 4th of July (1946). In the 1960s, Kovic joined the marines right out of high school, filled with patriotism created by watching Hollywood films that made war look like a glorious endeavor. In Vietnam, however, he discovered that war was anything but glorious. Horribly wounded and crippled for life, he began to question America’s role in Southeast Asia and protested the war as a founding member of the group, Vietnam Veterans Against the War. He wrote a best-selling book about his experiences, and Tom Cruise was nominated for an Oscar for playing Kovic in the film Born on the Fourth of July. Oliver Stone won his second Academy Award for directing that 1989 film, and the “Captain Dan” character in Forest Gump was modeled in part on Kovic.

At the top of this article, I quoted George M. Cohan, the great American showman from the early 20th Century. Among the 300 songs that he authored, his best-known are patriotic anthems such as “Over There,” “You’re a Grand Old Flag,” and the aforementioned “Yankee Doodle Dandy.” The 1942 biographical film about him is also called Yankee Doodle Dandy, and features an irresistible, Oscar-winning performance by Jimmy Cagney. It’s one of those movies that I can recite by heart, but I still watch every time it comes up on television. Cohan was actually born on the third of July, but I guess he figured, “Why let the truth ruin a good song?”

In my last blog entry, I wrote about the relationship between Jefferson and Adams, and the remarkable circumstances concerning their deaths. They both died on July 4, 1826, the fiftieth anniversary of the U.S. By an amazing coincidence, on that same day, one of the greatest American song-writers was born.

Stephen C. Foster had a tragic life that lasted only 37 years. Repeatedly cheated by his managers and publishers, he died penniless in New York in 1864. In that short time, however, he created 200 of the most popular and long-lasting songs in American history.  “Oh Susanna,” “My Old Kentucky Home,” “Swanee River” (actually called “Old Folks at Home”), and “Camptown Races” (with the profound words, “Doo Dah, Doo Dah” in the chorus) were among his many songs. A century later, in 1942, US songwriters went on strike to fight for higher royalties. Radio stations were unable to play any songs currently covered by copywrite laws, so they turned back to the 19th Century for material that had fallen into public domain. Stephen Foster was re-discovered by a new audience, and his song, “I Dream of Jeanie with the Light-Brown Hair,” rose to number one on the “Hit Parade” charts. Because many of his songs were performed in blackface by white singers in the Minstrel Show tradition, his songs have fallen out of favor today. Still, you can hear his music, in one form or another, played in commercials, cartoons, and films every year.

In the early ’80s, I was watching the Kentucky Derby, and I was emotionally moved by the sight of 130,000 people singing “My Old Kentucky Home” before the race. I knew that Foster had written that song, and, in the days before Google, I headed to the library to learn more about him. My research led me to write a song about him. I recently stumbled on a version of the song I had recorded about twenty years ago, and I created a little film for it. The sound is a bit low, so you might have to turn the volume up. Play it on Independence Day and remember Stephen Foster, as well as the other people born on the 4th of July.

Click on the link:

Founding–and Feuding–Fathers

On July 4th, 1777, spontaneous celebrations broke out in the US commemorating the first anniversary of the start of our nation. Exactly one year before that, in 1776, the Second Continental Congress had made public the document we now call the Declaration of Independence, officially breaking away from the British Empire. Primarily written by Thomas Jefferson, the Declaration was actually approved by the Congress two days earlier, leading John Adams to write to his wife, Abigail: “The 2nd day of July 1776, will be the most memorable epoch in the history of America. I am apt to believe that it will be celebrated by succeeding generations as the great anniversary festival.”

Okay, so John was off by a couple of days. Most historians accept the idea that July 4th marks the birthday of the U.S. and celebrate accordingly. Adams, from Massachusetts, and Virginian Jefferson had a long and interesting history together. They met as delegates to the First Continental Congress in 1775, and served together on a five-man committee selected to compose a statement of the reasons for breaking with Great Britain. Adams, Ben Franklin, and the other  two men suggested that the shy, young Jefferson (he was only 33 at the time) should do the bulk of the work, while they made suggestions and helped with revisions. Jefferson wanted Adams to take on the task of being the principal writer of the document, but Adams balked. When pressed, he gave his reasons, “I am obnoxious, suspected, and unpopular. You are very much otherwise.” Can you imagine a modern-day politician being so self-aware as to speak those words? Adams clinched the argument by saying, “You can write ten times better than I can.” The appeal to his ego worked, and Jefferson assented. When a draft was finished, Adams wrote, “I was delighted with its high tone and the flights of oratory with which it abounded, especially that concerning Negro slavery, which . . . I knew his Southern brethren would never suffer to pass in Congress.” The Southern delegates did indeed insist that references to slave labor be omitted from the final product, and that section was cut out. Despite that shortcoming, the remaining document stands as the finest statement on freedom and equality ever written.

Once the pronouncement was approved, the delegates had to sign it. That had to have been a poignant moment in their lives. In affixing their signatures to such a statement, they were committing a treasonous act according to British law, and were subject to trial and execution. One story, probably apocryphal, has it that Ben Franklin announced to the gathering, “We must all hang together, or surely, we will all hang separately.” At that point, President of the Congress, John Hancock, stepped forward and said, allegedly, “I’ll make my name large and clear so that King George can read it without his spectacles.” Regardless of the veracity of these stories and the risk involved, fifty-six men signed it by early August.

Adams and Jefferson continued to contribute to the birth of the nation during the Revolutionary War and the 1780s, largely in diplomatic roles. When the U.S. Constitution was being written in Philadelphia in 1787,  Jefferson was serving as the Ambassador to France, with Adams performing the same duties in London. The two friends corresponded throughout those years, but began to disagree on important issues in the 1790s. Adams was the first Vice President and Jefferson the first Secretary of State under George Washington. Factions, then political parties, soon developed over competing visions of which direction the new nation should take. While Washington stayed above the fray and abhorred the factionalism he saw emerging, Jefferson led a group called the Democratic-Republicans (sometimes simply Republicans) who favored states’ rights and a small republic of independent farmers. Adams supported Treasury Secretary Alexander Hamilton’s Federalist Party and their vision of a strong, centralized government built around a combination of banking, industry, and agriculture. Jefferson and Adams ran against each other in two heated presidential campaigns filled with the sort of vituperation and slanderous assaults that have become familiar to us in the past four years. While the two men avoided direct attacks on each other, neither tried to discourage those who engaged in such invective on their behalf. Adams won the first contest, in 1796, but Jefferson won the re-match in 1800. Upon Jefferson’s victory, Adams wrote a note of congratulation, but received no response. The two men did not communicate again for twelve years.

Jefferson served as president for eight years, from 1801 to 1809, but he never once asked his old friend for help or advice. In 1803, his ideal of a geographically small republic was sorely tested when the opportunity to purchase a massive piece of real estate called Louisiana presented itself. Jefferson compromised his principles and doubled the size of the United States with a stroke of the pen. He did not, however, bend in his feelings toward Adams. Nor did Adams reach out to him.

By 1812, both men were out of office, and the first two-party system in our political history was beginning to disintegrate. Having recently lost several friends and relatives, Adams had mellowed and sent a short, amicable note to his old rival. Jefferson responded in a similar tone, and they began to exchange letters, tentatively at first, but more frequently later on. The correspondence continued for the remaining years of their lives. They avoided any discussion of the issues that had divided them, but engaged in otherwise meaningful exchanges that ranged from current events, to philosophy, to minutia concerning their respective farms. At ninety years old, John Adams died peacefully at his Massachusetts farm. His last words were “Thomas Jefferson survives.” Once again, he was slightly in error. Jefferson had actually passed away several hours earlier on his plantation in Virginia. Incredibly, these two revolutionaries, comrades in arms, founding fathers, friends, and fierce rivals, both died within hours of each other.

The date was July 4, 1826—the fiftieth anniversary of the Declaration of Independence.

So, here we are, 245 years after the start of the nation, divided and angry, much like Jefferson and Adams had been for many years. If those two men could reconcile differences and come together again, however, I continue to hold out hope that we, as a nation can do the same.