No Favors, No Fear

 Lincoln’s First Stand for Public Integrity

Concept inspired by Abraham Lincoln’s
June 1836 letter to Colonel Robert Allen.
(Image generated by Microsoft Copilot)

In June 1836, fresh off his first election to the Illinois General Assembly, 27-year-old Abraham Lincoln heard around town that Colonel Robert Allen claimed to possess damaging information about Lincoln and fellow candidate N.W. Edwards—but promised not to reveal it out of personal regard.

Lincoln immediately sat down and wrote a letter to Allen regarding this so-called "protection". Lincoln's reply is a stunning document. Not of political maneuvering, but of moral courage.

“...favour to me would be injustice to the public, and therefore I must beg your pardon for declining it.”

Lincoln doesn't flinch. He doesn't negotiate. He invites the truth, even if it sinks him.

Principle Over Protection

Lincoln writes:

“if I have since done any thing, either by design or misadventure, which if known, would subject me to a forfeiture of that confidence, he that knows of that thing, and conceals it, is a traitor to his country's interest.”

What modern politician says that? He’s declaring that concealing facts - even for friendship - is betrayal. That public trust outranks personal gain. And then, with the same clarity he’d later wield in presidential addresses, he adds:

“I do hope that, on more mature reflection, you will view the public interest as a paramount consideration, and, therefore, determine to let the worst come.”

Integrity here isn’t just a trait—it’s a choice, actively made in real time.

Why It Still Matters

In an era of spin, silence, and selective outrage, Lincoln’s response remains radical. He doesn’t beg for the damage to stay hidden—he begs for honesty to take precedence.

Even at 27, Lincoln spoke with the same candor, honor, and principled resolve that would define him as one of America’s most enduring leaders. The echoes began early—and they never faded.

This was another anecdote about Abe Lincoln, Storyteller.

Mac

Works Cited

[1] Lincoln, Abraham. "Letter to Robert Allen, June 21, 1836". Collected Works of Abraham Lincoln. Edited by Roy P. Basler et al., vol. 1, University of Michigan Digital Library, https://quod.lib.umich.edu/l/lincoln/lincoln3.. Accessed 19 July 2025.

Here's Lincoln's letter to Allen in its entirety:

To Robert Allen

Dear Col. New Salem, June 21. 1836

I am told that during my absence last week, you passed through this place, and stated publicly, that you were in possession of a fact or facts, which, if known to the public, would entirely destroy the prospects of N. W. Edwards to section and myself at the ensuing election; but that, through favour to us, you should forbear to divulge them.

No one has needed favours more than I, and generally, few have been less unwilling to accept them; but in this case, favour to me, would be injustice to the public, and therefore I must beg your pardon for declining it. That I once had the confidence of the people of Sangamon, is sufficiently evident, and if I have since done any thing, either by design or misadventure, which if known, would subject me to a forfeiture of that confidence, he that knows of that thing, and conceals it, is a traitor to his country's interest.

I find myself wholly unable to form any conjecture of what fact or facts, real or supposed, you spoke; but my opinion of your veracity, will not permit me, for a moment, to doubt, that you at least believed what you said.

I am flattered with the personal regard you manifested for me, but I do hope that, on more mature reflection, you will view the public interest as a paramount consideration, and, therefore, determine to let the worst come.

I here assure you, that the candid statement of facts, on your part, however low it may sink me, shall never break the tie of personal friendship between us.

I wish an answer to this, and you are at liberty to publish both if you choose. 

Very Respectfully, A. LINCOLN.

[Despite Lincoln's encouragement, there is no record of any reply.]

Abraham Lincoln's "Niagara Fragment" Was Yosemite’s Salvation

President Lincoln Laid the Groundwork for Our National Parks

Sunrise at Yosemite
(Photo from We Dream of Travel)

The sight of Niagara Falls in 1848 touched Abraham Lincoln’s soul. It was a moment of awe etched with revelation. The fragment of his musings about Niagara that he left among his papers whispered reverence.

Yosemite - a place Lincoln never saw - reflected his awe of Niagara. The signature he placed on the Yosemite Grant in 1864 was influenced by that visit to the falls. Although Niagara was personal, Yosemite was his desire to share his experience with generations of future Americans. Together - Niagara and Yosemite - trace the true, nuanced silhouette of a man whom others saw as simple and pragmatic.

📜 Niagara : The Fragment Lincoln Left Behind

In 1848, after visiting Niagara Falls, Lincoln penned a rare poetic meditation:

“Niagara is strong, and fresh to-day as ten thousand years ago... Never dried, never froze, never slept, never rested.”

He imagined ancient beasts marveling at its thunder and stood humbled before its permanence. This wasn’t stump speech or courtroom rhetoric — it was awe. Timeless. Personal.

Lincoln’s surroundings before his trip to Niagara were utilitarian — flat fields, frontier towns, muddy rivers - big and small. Then he meets a geological poem at Niagara and experiences not just awe, but scale. He connects the majesty of nature to the majesty of time. That’s not policy — it’s philosophy. 

And yet, when Herndon later asked Lincoln what impressed him most, the reply was drier than dust:

“Where in the world did all that water come from?”

Herndon dismissed it as mere pragmatism. 

“He had no eye for the magnificence and grandeur of the scene... heedless of beauty or awe, followed irresistibly back to the first cause.”

But that's not so. Maybe it was just Lincoln’s humor — a camouflage for a mind ablaze with the wonder that he rarely revealed aloud. Lincoln's musings on that fragment of paper saw beneath the spectacle of roaring water, into the sweep of time itself.

🌲 Yosemite: From Fragment to Foresight

Fast forward to June 30, 1864. Amid war’s smoke and blood, Lincoln signed the Yosemite Grant — giving Yo-Semite Valley and Mariposa Grove to California for public protection. He never saw the land. Never touched its soil.

Introduced by Senator John Conness, the bill protected the primeval wilderness not for profit, but posterity. It was the first act of its kind — a moral decision rooted in conserving, not exploiting. [*]

And in that moment, Lincoln may have seen what few around him could: the need to preserve natural beauty for generations to come - even as a fragmented nation burned.

🌊 Niagara in His Soul, 🌲 Yosemite in His Signature

Lincoln didn’t dream up the Yosemite Grant. That honor belongs to Senator Conness, driven by the urgency to protect natural marvels from commodification. But Lincoln’s willingness to sign something that no president had ever been signed before — that’s where the Niagara fragment becomes incandescent. 

The man, who marveled silently at the timeless and ceaseless waters of Niagara, understood—even in 1864’s chaos—that untouched grandeur is more than scenery. It's a national memory; proof of what it used to be.

So when Conness approached him, Lincoln didn’t just nod. He recognized. He endorsed. He enshrined.

Niagara stirred his soul; Yosemite stirred his conscience. One he wrote about with poetic awe. The other he preserved for others with quiet power.

Together, they reveal a man of intellect and evolution—growing, absorbing, transforming. A mind that balanced geometry with splendor. A heart that beat for humanity, nature, and permanence.

A man who kept this country together so future generations could enjoy its splendor—both national and natural.

From the Past, Clarity

This post is more than history. It’s reclamation. Years ago, I wrote about Lincoln and Niagara — a lone reflection on mist, motion, and awe. That article stayed with me: the wonder Lincoln expressed that day, and what it revealed about the man.

I didn’t see it then—not fully. But years later, I recognize how that fragment foreshadowed the foresight in his Yosemite signature.

Just as Lincoln let formative moments and quiet reflections shape nation-defining decisions, I’ve come to understand how minor threads of the past can carry the seeds of vision and  understanding yet to come.

With new clarity comes deeper foresight, and a more intentional path forward.

What we each discovered is simple, but profound: the past doesn’t just define the present—it illuminates the future.

Lincoln didn’t invent preservation. He gave it legitimacy. In the wilderness he never saw, he saw what mattered most.

This was another anecdote about Abe Lincoln, Storyteller.

Mac

[*] FYI:  Yosemite is home to waterfalls, giant Sequoias, glaciers and more within its 1,200 square miles - an area larger than the state of Rhode Island. Yosemite hosts 3.7 million visitors annually. Lincoln saw the future through the lens from his past.

📖 Works Cited

[1] Library of Congress. "Today in History - June 30. Library of Congress, 30 June 2023. Retrieved July 21, 2025.

President Lincoln's Exploding Dog Story

A Vivid Image of Defeat

President Abraham Lincoln
seated in his White House office
(now the Lincoln Bedroom)

In late 1864, Confederate General John Bell Hood led a disastrous campaign through Tennessee, culminating in brutal defeats at Franklin and Nashville. His decisions cost the Army of Tennessee nearly 23,500 men—a force shattered beyond repair. As Union General George “Pap” Thomas pursued Hood’s remnants into the Deep South, the once-formidable army ceased to function as a fighting force.

When President Lincoln was informed of the magnitude of Hood’s defeat, he didn’t reach for a map or a military dispatch. He reached for a story.

“I think Hood’s army is about in the fix of Bill Sykes’s dog, down in Sangamon County…”

What followed was a tale Lincoln had likely told before—a frontier yarn involving a mischievous yellow dog, a powder-filled coon bladder, and a biscuit booby trap. The dog swallows the explosive treat, and the resulting blast scatters its body.

The head of the dog lit on the porch, the fore-legs caught astraddle the fence, the hind-legs fell in the ditch, and the rest of the dog lay around loose. 

As the owner surveys the carnage, the neighbor remarks: "Bill I guess there ain’t much of that dog of your’n left.”

Says Bill: “Well, no. I see plenty of pieces, but I guess that dog, as a dog, ain’t of much more account.” [1]

Lincoln’s punchline? Hood’s army might still have pieces left—but as an army, it wasn’t of much more account either.

This was vintage Abe Lincoln. He didn’t need charts to explain—he had metaphors that exploded like the biscuit in that dog’s belly.

This is another story from Abe Lincoln, Storyteller.

Mac

Works Cited

[1] Leidner, Gordon with an afterword by Michael Burlingame (2015), Lincoln’s Gift: How Humor Shaped Lincoln’s Life & Legacy. Naperville, IL: Cumberland House.

The Famous Lincoln Speech That Nearly Vanished

His First Inaugural Address and Its Perilous Journey

President-elect Abraham Lincoln's farewell to Springfield.
(Print by Lloyd Ostendorf)

In the four long months between Abraham Lincoln’s election in November 1860 and his inauguration in March 1861, the Union teetered on the edge of disintegration. Southern states were "leaving" the Union, militias were forming, and rumors of war loomed large. Lincoln, besieged by office seekers and cabinet hopefuls, withdrew into the back room of his brother-in-law’s Springfield store—a dusty sanctuary where history was quietly made.

🖋 Drafted in Solitude, Forged in History

Inside C. M. Smith’s store (Smith was married to Mary Todd Lincoln’s sister), Lincoln drew from four trusted references:

~ Henry Clay’s 1850 speech on compromise

~ Daniel Webster’s reply to Hayne

~ Andrew Jackson’s proclamation against nullification

~ The U.S. Constitution

The gravity of his first address as president-elect required nothing less than clarity, conviction, and careful secrecy. [6]

John G. Nicolay later recalled how the Illinois State Journal’s publisher, working with a single typesetter, locked himself away to produce just a handful of copies. These were secreted into Lincoln’s “gripsack”—a briefcase entrusted to his eldest son, Robert Todd Lincoln, for the journey to Washington. [1]

But the challenges had just begun.

🚂 A Gripsack Misplaced, History at Risk

On February 11, 1861, Lincoln departed Springfield’s depot under solemn skies, uttering words heavy with foreboding:

“I now leave... with a task before me greater than that which rested upon [George] Washington.” [6]

As the train wound its way through eleven days of whistle-stops, train changes, and receptions, tension flared—not just from political unrest, but from a personal crisis. Somewhere on the journey (sources disagree whether it was in Indianapolis, IN or in Harrisburg, PA), Robert misplaced the gripsack. Whether surrendered to a waiter, dropped among hotel luggage, or left behind a clerk’s counter, the result was the same: Lincoln’s inaugural address—the only draft in existence—had vanished!

Ben Perley Poore [2] and Ward Lamon’s accounts [3] capture Lincoln’s response—searching frantically, rifling through carpetbags, and sardonically lamenting to Lamon:

“Lamon, I guess I have lost my certificate of moral character.”[3]

Eventually, the precious satchel was recovered. Lincoln, never one to hold a grudge, handed the bag back to Robert with a wry smile: “There, Bob, see if you can't take better care of it this time.” [4]

Decades later, Robert Lincoln still remembered the incident:

"...and you may be sure I was true to the trust he placed in me. Why, I hardly let that precious gripsack get out of my sight during my waking hours all the rest of the long roundabout journey to Washington." [5]

✍️ Final Edits, Historic Impact

Upon arrival in Washington, Lincoln allowed only a few trusted figures—among them, William H. Seward—to read the address. Seward’s advice helped temper the speech’s tone, especially the famous closing:

“We are not enemies, but friends. We must not be enemies. Though passion may have strained, it must not break our bonds of affection…” [6]

Though the inaugural aimed to soothe Southern fears, it could not forestall the inevitable. Just weeks later—on April 12, 1861—Confederate cannons fired on Fort Sumter, and the Civil War began.

🌟 Reflection

Lincoln’s inaugural wasn’t just crafted in solitude—it was almost lost in chaos. That briefcase may not have held military strategy or proclamations of war, but it cradled something just as vital: the principles of unity and empathy that Lincoln hoped could still save the Union.

History may hinge on grand speeches—but sometimes, it’s the quiet recovery of a lost satchel that saves the soul of a nation.

This was another anecdote about Abe Lincoln, Storyteller.

Mac

Works Cited

[1] Burlingame, Michael. (1996) An Oral History of Abraham Lincoln: John G. Nicolay’s Interviews and Essays. Carbondale, IL: Southern Illinois University Press.

[2] Poore, Benjamin Perley, editor. (1865) The Conspiracy Trial for the Murder of the President. Vol. 2. J.E. Tilton and Co.. Internet Archive, archive.org/details/conspiracytrialf02poor.. Accessed 15 Feb. 2025.

[3] Lamon, Ward Hill. (1911) Recollections of Abraham Lincoln, 1847–1865. Edited by Dorothy Lamon, The Editor. Library of Congress, www.loc.gov/item/11009937/.. Accessed 15 Feb. 2025.

[4] Zimmerman, Fritz. “The True Story of Robert Lincoln Losing the Inaugural Address.” Fun Facts and Biography of Abraham Lincoln, 31 Mar. 2012. Accessed February 15, 2025.

[5] Zimmerman, Fritz. "The True Story of Robert Lincoln Losing the Inaugural Address". Fun Facts and Biography of Abraham Lincoln. Includes Lincoln's Famous Quotes - March 31, 2012. Accessed February  15, 2025.

[6] "Abraham Lincoln’s First Inaugural Address." Abraham Lincoln’s Classroom: The Lehrman Institute Presents. Accessed February 15, 2025.

Lincoln Walks at Midnight

A Poem, A Presence

You may have first met him in a textbook. Or maybe, like me, in a poem.

Vachel Lindsay’s Abraham Lincoln Walks at Midnight doesn’t give us the marble man or the Gettysburg orator. It gives us a shadowed figure in a shawl, pacing the streets of Springfield, unable to rest. A man who still carries the weight of a world that hasn’t yet learned how to live in peace.

This post is a quiet return to that vision—a reflection on how poetry, memory, and moral burden keep Lincoln walking long after the war has ended.

“A mourning figure walks,
and will not rest,
Near the old court-house pacing up and down.” [*]

About Vachel Lindsay

Born in 1879 in Springfield, Illinois—just blocks from Lincoln’s old home—Vachel Lindsay was a poet who believed verse should be heard, not just read. He called his style “singing poetry,” and often performed his work aloud with dramatic flair. But "Abraham Lincoln Walks at Midnight", written in 1914, is different. It’s hushed. Grieving. And deeply personal.

Lindsay wrote it during the early days of World War I, heartbroken by the violence sweeping across Europe. In his imagination, Lincoln rises from the grave—not to lead, but to mourn. He walks the streets of Springfield again, unable to rest while the world repeats the same mistakes he tried to mend.

Themes and Meaning

The poem is a meditation on conscience. Lincoln becomes a symbol of moral unrest—a figure who cannot sleep while injustice, war, and sorrow persist. Lindsay’s Lincoln is not triumphant; he is burdened, wrapped in a shawl, his head bowed, pacing through the night like a parent waiting for a child to come home.

The poems key themes include:

~ The cost of leadership

~ The persistence of grief

~ The unfinished work of peace

~ The haunting presence of history

 This is one of the poem's most memorable lines:

“He cannot sleep upon his hillside now. He is among us:—as in times before! And we who toss and lie awake for long Breathe deep, and start, to see him pass the door.”

Closing Reflection

Lincoln doesn’t haunt us because he was perfect. He haunts us because he tried—and because we still haven’t finished what he started.

Lindsay’s poem reminds us that the work of conscience doesn’t end at the grave. It walks beside us, especially when the world grows dark.

The war is over. The work isn’t. Somewhere, Abe Lincoln the Storyteller still walks.

Mac

[*] Below the Works Cited section is Lindsey's poem in its entirety.

Works Cited

[1] Editorial cartoon by Lloyd Ostendorf, “And a World Half Slave and Half Free?” originally published in the Dayton Journal-Herald, February 12, 1955. Reprinted in Lincoln Lore, No. 1362 (May 16, 1955).

[2] Poem below is from “Abraham Lincoln Walks at Midnight” by Vachel Lindsay (1914). Public domain. Full text available via The Poetry Foundation.

Abraham Lincoln Walks at Midnight

By Vachel Lindsay

(In Springfield, Illinois)

It is portentous, and a thing of state

That here at midnight, in our little town

A mourning figure walks, and will not rest,

Near the old court-house pacing up and down.

Or by his homestead, or in shadowed yards

He lingers where his children used to play,

Or through the market, on the well-worn stones

He stalks until the dawn-stars burn away.

A bronzed, lank man! His suit of ancient black,

A famous high top-hat and plain worn shawl

Make him the quaint great figure that men love,

The prairie-lawyer, master of us all.

He cannot sleep upon his hillside now.

He is among us:—as in times before!

And we who toss and lie awake for long

Breathe deep, and start, to see him pass the door.

His head is bowed. He thinks on men and kings.

Yea, when the sick world cries, how can he sleep?

Too many peasants fight, they know not why,

Too many homesteads in black terror weep.

The sins of all the war-lords burn his heart.

He sees the dreadnaughts scouring every main.

He carries on his shawl-wrapped shoulders now

The bitterness, the folly and the pain.

He cannot rest until a spirit-dawn

Shall come;—the shining hope of Europe free;

The league of sober folk, the Workers' Earth,

Bringing long peace to Cornland, Alp and Sea.

It breaks his heart that kings must murder still,

That all his hours of travail here for men

Seem yet in vain.   And who will bring white peace

That he may sleep upon his hill again?

'A Springfield Incident' — President-elect Lincoln's Surprise Southern Visitor

 A Forgotten Newspaper Story from 1861

January 10, 1861 edition of the
Chicago Daily Tribune, p.2.

On the lower right-hand side of page two of the January 10th edition of the Chicago Daily Tribune sat a small but significant article titled 'A Springfield Incident.'

The year, 1861, was just ten days old and the nation was splintering. The South was seceding. And President-elect Abraham Lincoln—still in Springfield, Illinois and weeks away from taking office—was already battling one of his greatest challenges: misconception and mistrust.

Rumors had spread across the South, painting Lincoln as a threat to their way of life, a man who would bring destruction upon them. Most Southerners would never meet him, never hear his voice, never read his speeches, and never know his true intentions.

But one man—an elderly visitor from Mississippi—wanted to find out for himself if those rumors were true.

A Journey for Truth

The man arrived in Springfield one cold Saturday. His clothing was simple homespun, the mark of someone unaccustomed to the politics of grand halls and polished offices. Yet, he came with a purpose—to speak with Abraham Lincoln.

He first mingled with Republican representatives, talking with them, listening. And surprisingly, he found that the people of Illinois were not so black-hearted as they had been painted in Southern newspapers.

Then, he was granted an audience with with the President-elect himself.

For a long time, the two spoke. Lincoln did not lecture him, nor berate Southern leaders, nor push his policies onto the man. Instead, Lincoln shared his genuine thoughts and intentions, assuring him that he harbored no hatred toward the South—only a desire "to preserve the Union and protect the just rights of all its people." [1]

The conversation changed the man. It shattered his preconceived notions. He had expected hostility. He had expected cold political talk. Instead, he saw Lincoln for who he truly was—someone trying to mend what was already falling apart.

The Tears That Said Everything

The Mississippi visitor left Lincoln’s office a changed man.

As he stepped outside into the crisp Illinois air, tears stole down his cheeks. He dreaded the future. Turning to a friend, he lamented:

"Oh! If the people of the South could hear what I have heard, they would love and not hate Mr. Lincoln." [1]

He had seen the man with his own eyes and heard the words with his own ears. And he desperately wanted to share that truth he had journeyed so far to seek.

But, instead, he delivered a heartbreaking realization:

"I will tell my friends at home, but… they will not believe me!" [1]

The Unbreakable Walls of Mistrust

That moment encapsulated the tragedy of misinformation in early 1861. The South had already decided Lincoln’s fate before he ever took office.

No matter how kind and reassuring his words, no matter how honest his intentions, many Southerners would never believe him—even if one of their own stood before them, recounting Lincoln’s message word-for-word.

In another world, at another time, this meeting might have changed minds. Might have calmed fears. Might have stopped the coming storm.

But in this world—the world of 1861—the divide was already too wide, too deep, too ingrained.

And so, this old man left Springfield, carrying both truth and sorrow, knowing that what he had learned from Lincoln would never be accepted back home.

It was not a failure of words, but a failure of trust.

And it was that lack of trust—not Lincoln’s election—that would send the nation spiraling into war.

Why This Story Matters

This encounter is a forgotten footnote in history, yet it embodies the emotional complexity of Abraham Lincoln’s rise to power.

It was never just about policies. Never just about elections.

It was about perception, belief, and the tragedy of division—a division so deep that even truth could not bridge it.

But on that cold January day, one Mississippi man wished he could—but he knew then that it would take a war.

This is another anecdote about Abe Lincoln, Storyteller.

Mac

FYI: Below the Works Cited section is the Tribune article in its entirety.

Works Cited

[1] "A Springfield Incident". Chicago Daily Tribune, January 10, 1861. p. 2. [From the (Springfield) State Journal, January 7th.]

"A Springfield Incident"

An old man, hailing from Mississippi, dressed in plain homespun, came to our city Saturday. He mingled freely with the Republican representatives - got their views, and seemed to think that we are not quite so black as we are represented. He called on Mr. Lincoln, talked freely with him, and heard the Presient-elect express his sntiments and intentions. He learned that Mr. Lincoln entertained none but the kindes feelings toward the people of the South, and that he would protect the South in her jiust rights. He had a long conversation, and he went away delighted. He left the office of Mr. Lincoln in company with a friend who communicated this to us, and when outside the door, he remarked, while the tears stole down his cheeks: "Oh! if the people of the South could hear what I have heard, they would love and not hate Mr. Lincoln. I will tell my firiends at home, but, "he added, sorrowfully, "they will not believe me!" He said that he did wish that everyman in the South could be personally acquainted with Mr. Lincoln.

The Letter That Lincoln Never Read

Grace Bedell - the little New York girl famed for urging Lincoln to grow a beard - wrote another letter that was recently discovered.

Abraham Lincoln and Grace Bedell photos.
Both were taken about the time that Bedell wrote her second letter.

In 2007, historian Karen Needles, Director of the Lincoln Archives Digital Project, unearthed a long-lost letter in the Treasury records at the National Archives. It was addressed to President Abraham Lincoln, requesting his help in securing a position with the U.S. Treasury Department.

What makes this discovery so remarkable is not just the letter itself, but the fact that its author was none other than Grace Bedell—the young girl whose famous "Beard Letter" had influenced Lincoln’s public image years earlier.

By 1864, three years had passed since Lincoln had stepped off his inauguration train in Westfield, NY to personally meet Grace. Much had changed in that time—not just for the nation, but for Grace’s family as well. Her father had lost much of his property and assets, leaving them struggling financially.

At just 15 years old, Grace was no longer the hopeful child urging Lincoln to grow whiskers—she was now a determined young woman, facing the harsh realities of economic hardship. Seeking an opportunity to help her parents, she learned that the Treasury Department in Washington was offering stable jobs with decent wages, and women were preferred for their keen ability to detect counterfeit currency.

So, on January 14, 1864, Grace wrote to Lincoln again—but this time, her letter was not about beards or elections. It was a plea for economic opportunity, a request for help in securing a government job. She reminded Lincoln that he had once signed himself as her “true friend and well-wisher”—and now, she hoped he would prove it by helping her obtain meaningful work.

A Letter That Was Nearly Forgotten

Because of her beard letter and his personal meeting with her, Grace Bedell was no longer just another unknown citizen—her words had once shaped how a president presented himself to the nation. Her rediscovered letter provides a rare and meaningful extension to a historical footnote in Lincoln's story.

Although it didn’t change history the way her first one did, it reveals that Grace still saw Lincoln as a trusted figure—someone worthy of her respect, someone she believed might still help or guide her during her hour of need.

Correcting the Miscounting of Grace’s Letters

For years since its discovery, historians have referred to Grace Bedell’s January 14, 1864 letter as her second letter to Lincoln. However, this isn’t entirely accurate.

In reality, this was Grace’s third letter to Lincoln, though only two survive today. She had previously written to him once before asking for a government position, but never received a response. In her 1864 letter, she referenced this earlier, unanswered request, stating:

I have addressed one letter to you before, pertaining to this subject, but receiving no answer, I chose rather to think you had failed to receive it, not believing that your natural kindness of heart, of which I have heard so much, would prompt you to pass it by unanswered.

Historians often overlook this detail because only two of Grace’s letters survive: 

 ✔ The famous "Beard Letter" from October 15, 1860, advising Lincoln to grow a beard. 

 ✔ The 2007 discovery of her job request from January 14, 1864.

Since the first job request letter was never recovered, most sources count only those letters that are physically in the historical archives. But accuracy prevents flawed or misleading history. Grace Bedell wrote three letters.

Unfortunately, both letters went unanswered. Historians speculate that Lincoln may never have seen January 14th letter. Needles noted that Lincoln's chief secretary, John Hay, was out of town when that letter arrived at the White House, and the letter was likely filed away with standard Treasury applications rather than brought to Lincoln’s attention. Needles believes the letter - had it reached Lincoln - would have lifted his spirits in the midst of wartime burdens. 

And he would have answered it.

In fact, Grace thought so too - at least with regards to the first job request letter. She wrote: 

but receiving no answer, I chose rather to think you had failed to receive it, not believing that your natural kindness of heart, of which I have heard so much, would prompt you to pass it by unanswered.

Whatever the case, Grace never received a position in the Treasury Department, and this letter ended in the dusty bin of history—until its surprising rediscovery in 2007.

Though Grace never secured the job she hoped for, the rediscovery of her letter provides a remarkable glimpse into her persistence, ambition, and quiet determination to shape her own future. The rest of her life proves this.

Grace’s Later Life [1]

Because of Lincoln's silence - inadvertent or not - Grace’s life took a vastly different path.

On December 3, 1867, at 19 years old, she married George Newton Billings, a Civil War veteran who had served in the 10th New York Volunteer Infantry Regiment and later as a sergeant in the 8th New York Heavy Artillery. 

Before they settled down in one location, George worked as a wagon train captain, guiding pioneers into the West. By 1870, the couple found their home in the American West - Delphos, Kansas, about 40 miles north of Salina. They first lived in a house northwest of town, but in 1880, they built a new home at 602 Custer Street.

Life on the Kansas frontier was harsh, but Grace's quiet determination persisted, and she adapted. She rode horseback, learned to shoot, carried a gun in her purse, and mastered survival skills in a land threatened by grasshopper plagues, floods, tornadoes, prairie fires, Indian attacks, and disease.

Among their more colorful acquaintances was “Wild Bill" Hickok, a legend and a frequent dinner guest at the Billings household until his death in Deadwood, South Dakota.

In 1880, George became a cashier at the State Bank of Delphos—some records even suggest he co-founded the bank. Their only child, Harlow Drake Billings, was born in 1872 and later became president of the same bank. Grace's lineage -through Harlow - continues today in Delphos and Salina.

As the years passed, Grace remained remarkably private about her role in Lincoln’s transformation - perhaps because she was embarrassed by his silence when she needed him. When asked about her famous childhood letter, she dismissed the attention, saying she disliked “making a fuss”. Grace never sought to profit from her unexpected place in history.

George passed away in 1930 after nearly 50 years at the bank, and Grace followed six years later, on November 2, 1936—just two days shy of her 88th birthday. She and George are buried in Delphos.

Both Delphos, Kansas and Westfield, New York have memorials dedicated to Grace, ensuring that her contribution to American history—and her charming role in Lincoln’s legacy—is never forgotten.

This is another anecdote about Abe Lincoln, Storyteller.

Mac

FYI: Grace Bedell's third letter is published it its entirety below the Works Cited section.

Works Cited

[1] Chetwynd, Sally Morong. "Grace Bedell (1848-1936)". Brass Castle Arts website - November 1, 2010. Retrieved May 5, 2025.

Grace Bedell’s Third Letter to Lincoln

Albion, Orleans Co., N.Y. Jan. 14, 1864

Pres Lincoln,

After a great deal of forethought on the subject, I have concluded to address you, asking your aid in obtaining a situation. Do you remember before your election receiving a letter from a little girl residing at Westfield in Chautauqua Co. advising the wearing of whiskers as an improvement to your face? I am that little girl grown to the size of a woman.

I believe in your answer to that letter you signed yourself “Your true friend and well-wisher.” Will you not show yourself my friend now?

My father, during the last few years, lost nearly all his property, and although we have never known want, I feel that I ought and could do something for myself. If I only knew what that “something” was. I have heard that a large number of girls are employed constantly and with good wages at Washington cutting Treasury notes and other things pertaining to that Department. Could I not obtain a situation there?

I know I could if you would exert your unbounded influence—a word from you would secure me a good-paying situation, which would at least enable me to support myself, if not to help my parents. This, at present, is my highest ambition.

My parents are ignorant of this application to you for assistance. If you require proof of my family's respectability, I can name persons here whose names may not be unknown to you.

We have always resided here, excepting the two years we were at Westfield. I have addressed one letter to you before, pertaining to this subject, but receiving no answer, I chose rather to think you had failed to receive it, not believing that your natural kindness of heart, of which I have heard so much, would prompt you to pass it by unanswered.

Direct to this place.

Grace G. Bedell

The Young Lady Who Changed Lincoln’s Image—And American Politics

 The Political Genius of Grace Bedell

The Phases of Lincoln's Transformation

Presidents rise and fall, political campaigns come and go, but the power of a single, well-placed idea? That can last for generations.

Now imagine—an 11-year-old girl, far removed from the political battleground of Washington, unknowingly influencing one of the most iconic figures in American history.

Before Lincoln led the country through war, before his speeches were etched into the national conscience, before he even set foot in the White House—Grace Bedell saw something no one else did. And with just a few strokes of a pen, she altered the image of the man who would change the world.

A Political Genius

Grace Bedell’s letter wasn’t just a charming suggestion—it was an astute understanding of political optics, decades ahead of its time.

While Lincoln’s own political campaign strategists emphasized his image as the hardworking, “rail-splitter,” Bedell, at just 11-years-old, saw something deeper—the emotional and psychological power of appearance. She understood that a beard wouldn’t just change Lincoln’s look; it would soften his rugged features, make him more distinguished, and appeal to women—a vote-influencing group that had no official say but still held political power through their husbands, fathers, and sons.

This was grassroots persuasion at its finest—a near 20th- or 21st-century political strategy conceived and executed through a single, handwritten letter. Bedell wasn’t thinking in terms of policy or party lines; she saw the personal, human side of leadership—the same logic modern political campaigns use when focusing on relatability, image, and emotional appeal. (Think 2024 presidential election.)

She unknowingly predicted what would become a staple in future elections: political branding beyond policy—using personal appeal to shape public perception.

The Letter That Changed Lincoln

On October 15, 1860, from her home in Westfield, New York, Grace Bedell sat down and wrote a letter to Abraham Lincoln, then a relatively unknown presidential nominee. She didn’t discuss tariffs, states’ rights, or slavery. Instead, she focused on something no campaign strategist had considered.

"I have yet got four brothers, and part of them will vote for you any way, and if you let your whiskers grow I will try and get the rest of them to vote for you; you would look a great deal better, for your face is so thin. All the ladies like whiskers and they would tease their husbands to vote for you and then you would be President."

What she understood—perhaps better than Lincoln himself—was the power of influence beyond the voting booth. Women, though disenfranchised, held immense political sway. Her letter was more than an opinion—it was also a political strategy.

Lincoln’s Response—And Transformation

Four days later, Lincoln wrote back, playfully questioning whether suddenly growing whiskers might seem absurd. But something about Bedell’s logic resonated with him.

By the time he embarked on his presidential journey to Washington, Lincoln had grown the full beard that would define his iconic image forever.

When his train stopped in Westfield, New York, he sought out Grace Bedell in the crowd. The president-elect greeted her, showing her his whiskers—proof that her idea had not only reached him but transformed him.

These two larger than life bronze statues, created in 1999
depict the historic meeting between President-Elect Abraham Lincoln
and Westfield resident Grace Bedell.[**]

A Legacy of Political Influence

Lincoln, of course, would go on to become one of the most celebrated figures in American history. His speeches, his resolve, and his leadership in the Civil War defined his presidency. But beneath it all, there remains the curious fact that an 11-year-old girl helped shape the unique and iconic image that the entire world recognizes.

Bedell’s understanding of human psychology in politics was decades ahead of its time. She saw what professional strategists would later rely on—personal appeal, relatability, and emotional connection matter as much as policy.

Her letter wasn’t just about a beard—it was a lesson about how leaders must recognize the subtle forces that shape public perception.

And in that moment, Bedell demonstrated what Lincoln himself would later embody—the power of words to move people, to shape history, and to change the course of a nation.

What do you think—was Bedell’s idea just a suggestion, or was she ahead of her time in campaign strategy?

This was another anecdote about Abe Lincoln, Storyteller.

Mac

Works Cited

[**] These statues, located in Lincoln-Bedell Statue Park in Westfield, NY were sculpted by local sculptor, Don Sottile and cast at the Fireworks Foundry, Penn Yann, in upstate New York. 

[1] Bedell, Grace. "Letter to Abraham Lincoln. October 15, 1860." Collected Works of Abraham Lincoln, edited by Roy P. Basler et al.  .

Abraham Lincoln and the Story of His Teeth

A dental history of the Great Emancipator

Abraham Lincoln
(Smithsonian Institution)

When it comes to presidential health quirks, George Washington’s nightmare of wooden dentures is the stuff of legend. But what about Abraham Lincoln? Did the Great Emancipator have a mouth full of perfectly preserved teeth, or did he endure his own dental disasters?

Turns out, Lincoln’s teeth have their own strange history, and two studies—one by an American dental historian and another by a French medical researcher—attempt to unravel the mystery. Did fluoride-rich water bless Abe with naturally strong enamel, or was he just really good at avoiding dentists? Let’s sink our teeth into this peculiar presidential puzzle.

Dr. Maynard K. Hine, a dental historian and former president of the American Dental Association, published an article in the Bulletin of the History of Dentistry in 1975. In it, he suggested that Lincoln’s dental health was remarkably strong—possibly due to the natural fluoride present in the wells and springs of Kentucky and Indiana. [1]

But can we really credit fluoride for Lincoln’s luck? A French dentist and medical historian, Dr. Xavier Riaud wrote a more detailed look at Lincoln’s actual dental history in his 2018 article in the Journal of Dental Health, Oral Disorders & Therapy. Dr. Riaud suggests a different story—one involving painful extractions, self-administered anesthesia, and a possible phobia of dentists.

Lincoln’s Known Dental History

Lincoln wasn’t entirely free from dental problems. His own words, written to Mary Speed in 1841, describe a particularly gruesome experience:

"Do you remember when I went to this city to get a tooth extracted and it totally failed? This tooth made me suffer once again so badly that a week ago, I had to have it removed, which cost me a piece of the maxilla which came out with it. My mouth is so sore that I can neither talk, nor eat. I only survive with the memory of flavors which is inadequate in terms of nutritious diet." [2]

This account is painful just to read—a reminder of how primitive dental procedures were in the 19th century.

Lincoln endured at least three additional dentist visits:

• In 1856, he had a tooth extracted using an ivory-handled turnkey - a harsh tool used before modern forceps.
• In 1862, while serving as president, he visited Dr. G.S. Wolf in Washington—but rather than accept the dentist’s anesthesia, Lincoln produced his own vial of chloroform, inhaled it, and then allowed the extraction (of course, Lincoln was resourceful enough to handle his own pain relief).
• He purchased at least two toothbrushes, suggesting he had some understanding of oral hygiene. [2]

In addition, his wife, Mary Todd Lincoln, endorsed a tooth powder in an ad published by the New York Times, suggesting that dental care was valued in their household. [2]

Fact vs. Speculation

While Dr. Hine’s fluoride theory is amusing, Lincoln’s real dental history suggests a different story—one of occasional pain, infrequent visits to the dentist, and a possible phobia of extractions.

The French researcher further noted that Lincoln never smiled in photographs, leading some historians to wonder: Was he self-conscious about his teeth? The article suggests that his solemn expressions had more to do with the long exposure times required for photography, rather than any concern about his dental health.

Lincoln’s diet may have also played a role—he rarely ate sugar, avoided desserts, and never smoked or drank, meaning his teeth may have been naturally preserved without much effort.

So, was Lincoln truly blessed with strong teeth, or did he simply avoid dentists unless absolutely necessary? One thing is clear—when he did have dental problems, he handled them in the most Lincoln-esque way possible: with minimal fuss, maximum self-sufficiency, and just a touch of brutal efficiency.

What do you think? Was Lincoln lucky, cautious, or just very, very tough

This is another anecdote about Abe Lincoln, Storyteller.

Mac

Works Cited

[1] McDaniel, C.G. "Historian says...Abe had few dental problems". Alton [IL] Telegraph Newspaper - Wednesday, February 12, 1975. p. A-11.

[2] Riaud X. "Abraham Lincoln (1809-1865) and his teeth". Journal of Dental Health Oral Disorders Therapy - 2018;9(1): pp. 30-31. 

Abraham Lincoln Said: 14 Quotes for Americans Today

 The amazing, continuing relevance of Lincoln's words

In moments of political and economic uncertainty, history offers not just lessons, but warnings. Few understood the fragility of democracy better than Abraham Lincoln, who guided the nation through its most perilous hour - a civil war. His words, spoken over a century and a half ago, remain astonishingly relevant today, reminding us that democracy is a constant responsibility—not a guarantee.

Here are 14 Lincoln quotes that speak directly to the challenges we face now. They are food for thought as we navigate the preservation of our national character.

Lincoln’s Timeless Warnings and Principles

• "We have arrived at a critical period in our history; we seem to be surrounded by adverse circumstances well fitted to try our public faith and individual virtue." (A public crisis can challenge the integrity of our faith in our government and our personal sense of right and wrong.)

• "With malice toward none; with charity for all…" (Healing requires grace, not vengeance.)

• "The people know their rights, and are never slow to assert and maintain them when they are invaded." (A republic survives only when its citizens refuse to surrender their freedoms.)

• "A house divided against itself cannot stand." (Internal division weakens a nation more than any external threat.)

• "The Federal Union must be preserved." (America’s strength lies in its unity.)

• "No law is stronger than the public sentiment where it is to be enforced." (The law only holds power if the people believe in its fairness.)

• "No man is good enough to govern another man without that other's consent." (True leadership serves, not controls.)

• "You can fool all the people some of the time and some of the people all of the time, but you cannot fool all of the people all of the time." (Deception has limits—eventually, the truth prevails.)

• "Stand with anybody that stands RIGHT. Stand with him while he is right and PART with him when he goes wrong." (Integrity means aligning with principles, not blind loyalty to a person.)

• "There is no grievance that is a fit object of redress of mob law." (Violence in pursuit of justice only breeds greater injustice.)

• "It is an old maxim and a very sound one, that he that dances should always pay the fiddler." (A classic expression of accountability—that actions have consequences and that decisions made in the voting booth and in the Oval Office inevitably come home to roost.)

• "Those who deny freedom to others deserve it not for themselves." (Those who deny Liberty and due process to others deserve to lose theirs.)

• "... to the support of the Constitution and Laws, let every American pledge his life, his property, and his sacred honor." (Democracy survives only if its citizens actively protect and uphold it—not passively, but with courage, dedication, and - if needed - personal sacrifice.)

• "this movement is exclusively the work of politicians; a set of men who have interests aside from the interests of the people, and who - taken as a mass - are at least one long step removed from honest men.." (Lincoln recognized a critical flaw in governance: When political power is wielded by leaders and representatives who are out for personal gain rather than public service, the ordinary people suffer.)

As with all true wisdom, Lincoln’s words from the past are still relevant. They are a call to awareness, action, and accountability. In an era of uncertainty, his wisdom still walks beside us.

Lincoln’s words challenge us to confront a fundamental question—one that demands reflection both individually and as a nation: Are today’s leaders truly serving the people, or merely serving themselves?

Express your opinion at the ballot box.

Food for thought.

Mac