How to Fight Presidents: Defending Yourself Against the Badasses Who Ran This Country by Daniel O'Brien Read Free Book Online Page A

feared Shawnee leader Tecumseh and his Indian forces. In 1811, Tecumseh and histroops snuck up on Governor Harrison and his men near Tippecanoe, and even though it was early in the morning—and even though Tecumseh’s men had the element of surprise on their side (Harrison’s men were asleep when the Indians attacked)—Harrison woke up and, in two hours, drove the Native Americans away and burned their camp to the ground, effectively stopping any future Native American incursion into their territory. This earned Harrison the nickname “Tippecanoe,” because, seriously, the guys who handed out nicknames did not have their shit together for a very long time. Tippecanoe led this charge and personally fought in hand-to-hand combat as
governor
, which, on paper, is supposed to be one of the least-fightingest jobs one could have (next to, perhaps, Professional Presidential Fight Historian). Harrison then quit being governor and rejoined the army for the War of 1812, because, even though he was fighting in more battles than any other governor, he
still
wasn’t satisfied by the amount of fighting in his life.
    Harrison was a man for whom fighting and battle was everything. He met his future wife, Anna Symmes, while on military business, and when her father (a prominent judge), disapproved of Anna’s interest in him, Harrison dealt with the man the only way he knew how: as a soldier. When Symmes demanded to know how Harrison would support his daughter, Harrison immediately replied, “By my sword, Sir, and my good right arm.” Some guys ask a father for permission to marry their daughters, and William Henry Harrison waves a sword around at judges. And it worked. Harrison won both Anna’s hand
and
her father’s approval.
    After he had stabbed his way into a marriage, Harrison went right back to fighting the War of 1812, which involved taking back Indiana, Ohio, and Detroit from British and Indian forces and winning a decisive victory at the Battle of Thames (the battle in which Tecumseh was finally killed). He was a national hero, but he left the army over a disagreement with the secretary of war; Harrison wanted command of
all
of the armies, and the secretary thought it would be best to divide the army up and just give Harrison
some
of it. Harrison apparently had plans that he simply couldn’t act on withoutan entire army under his command, so he resigned. Congress would later investigate Harrison’s resignation, conclude that he had been treated unfairly, and award him a gold medal. Once more: the man got a gold war medal for
quitting
.

    Maybe it was because he still wanted to be in charge of the army without having to answer to any pesky secretary of war, but whatever the reason, as soon as Harrison retired from military service, he sought the presidency. William Henry Harrison wasn’t like a lot of other war-heroes-turned-president. Most of those men (like Grant, or Taylor), just sort of stumbled into the presidency on the strength of their national popularity. Harrison
wanted
the presidency, and he was just sneaky enough that he didn’t really care how he got it. In 1840, after trying and failing twice in his pursuit of the office, Harrison was prepared to lie.
    The Whig Party wanted some way to distance their candidate, Harrison, from the incumbent Van Buren, so they turned Harrisoninto a folksy, blue-collar hero, earning him the label of the “log cabin and hard cider candidate.” Harrison campaigned all over the country for years, reassuring everyone the whole time that he was a fun-loving guy that you could sit down and have a beer with. But it wasn’t enough for Harrison to be
just
the cool, good ole boy; he also needed to make shitty Van Buren look like an elitist aristocrat.
    Harrison and his team started releasing flyers—illustrations of Harrison next to a log cabin—to demonstrate his down-to-earth authenticity and prove conclusively that he could be physically near a log cabin (in a drawing, anyway).