15 Abe Lincoln Relevant One‑Liners: Some Funny, Some Sharp

Life-sized statues of both Lincoln and Stephen A. Douglas
(by noted sculptor, Lily Tolpo)
depicting their debate at Freeport, Illinois on August 27, 1858.

This fragment of notes for speeches in the Collected Works of Abraham Lincoln is a treasure‑trove of one‑liners. It shows Lincoln completely unvarnished. He’s sarcastic, morally furious, legally precise, and funny in a way only a frontier lawyer could be.

There’s no marble here, no mythmaking—just a man figuring out how to dismantle his debate adversary, Stephen Douglas, with logic, contempt, and deadpan humor. This is the Lincoln who jokes that trying to reason with his adversary is like “preaching Christianity to a grizzly bear.” These are sentences sharper than knives, written by a man who is clearly done playing games.

Read on and enjoy the view from Lincoln’s back room on the eve of the 1858 debates.

All of the following quotes are from “Fragment: Notes for Speeches,” c. Aug. 21, 1858 (Collected Works, Vol. II, pp. 547–553).

____________

1. “...not by argument, but by mere burlesque on the art and name of argument — by such fantastic arrangements of words as prove ‘horse‑chestnuts to be chestnut horses.’”

A famous Lincoln line that is a perfect demolition of Douglas’s verbal gymnastics — a clever logic lesson in one joke.

2. “I shall trust an intelligent community to learn my objects and aims from what I say and do myself, rather than from what Judge Douglas may say of me.”

Lincoln suggests the voters judge him by his own words and actions, not Douglas’s distortions.

3. “Judge Douglas has a greater conscience than most men.”

Lincoln set up Douglas for the next comment.

4. “...he is conscientious... he is more conscientious... he is most conscientious... he is absolutely bursting with conscience.”

Lincoln built an intellectual staircase of sarcasm and then kicked Douglas down every step.

5. “I call him, and take a default upon him.”

Courtroom humor — and somehow it lands like a punchline.

6. “It only makes him the dupe, instead of a principal, of conspirators.”

Lincoln’s version of “Douglas isn't one of the leaders, just a gullible follower.”

7. “I might as well preach Christianity to a grizzly bear...”

Frontier deadpan at its finest — and devastatingly dismissive.

8. “He remembers to forget it.”

A perfect, six‑word paradox - and apt. 

9. “...he cooks up two or three issues upon points not discussed by me at all, and then authoritatively announces that these are to be the issues of the campaign.”

Lincoln called out Douglas for inventing arguments — or “disinformation” as we call it today.

10. “Public sentiment is every thing.”

A 5-word political philosophy that is still relevant - or is it?

11. “Whoever moulds public sentiment, goes deeper than he who enacts statutes, or pronounces judicial decisions.”

A Lincoln masterclass on the real power in politics. Today, we call them “influencers.”

12. “...he who affirms what he does not know to be true, falsifies as much as he who affirms what he does know to be false...”

Lincoln’s moral geometry — crisp, cold, and airtight. And he was Republican.

13. “Still I have the right to prove the conspiracy, even against his answer...”

Lincoln reminded Douglas that denial is not a defense. 

14. “From warp to woof, his handiwork is everywhere woven in.”

A metaphor from the textile industry with which Lincoln quietly accused Douglas of being part of the fabric of a scheme.

15. “He might very well go out of the Senate on his qualifications as a false prophet.”

A biblical insult delivered with lawyerly calm.

Food for thought from the archives of Abraham Lincoln. Storyteller.

Mac

🔖 A Lost Davy Crockett Tale in Abraham Lincoln’s Papers

A letter from actor James H. Hackett to President Lincoln,
dated August 2, 1864—containing a lost Davy Crockett tale.

“Izzard by G—d!”

Tucked deep within the Abraham Lincoln Papers at the Library of Congress lies a curious letter, dated August 2, 1864. [1] It was written by James H. Hackett—a name largely forgotten today, but once celebrated on both sides of the Atlantic for his booming portrayal of Shakespeare’s Falstaff. 

Hackett wasn’t just an actor. He was also a correspondent of President Lincoln. The two men, drawn together by a shared love of Shakespeare, exchanged letters during the darkest years of the Civil War. [2] This final letter, however, contains something unexpected: an unpublished tall tale from the American frontier, passed from a congressman who had served alongside David “Davy” Crockett… to Hackett… and finally to the President of the United States.

Hackett, knowing Lincoln’s fondness for storytelling, couldn’t resist sharing it.

🎬 Story's Context

Before launching into the tale, Hackett offers Lincoln a bit of context [brackets are mine]:

“The late Davy Crockett contended with his fellow member of Congress, the late C. C. Cambreleng—in palliation [in defense or partial excuse] of a charge which he [Crockett] admitted he could not entirely deny: ‘want of edication’—that ‘some men were too high larnt.’ John Quincy Adams, he said, was one of them—his superfluous larning sometimes confused his head and his purpose.” Crockett (according to Mr. Cambreleng, who told me the anecdote—which I think I once repeated to you) proceeded very ingeniously and humorously to instance a case where ‘a man knew too much’—and suffered for it.” [1]

Then Hackett tells the story—as Cambreleng told it to him.

📜 The Tale, As Hackett Told It

“In Tennessee, one John Jones was objected to, as a political candidate for an office; ‘because, he was so illiterate he could'nt spell his given name — John,’ & a wager of $10. was offered & taken that ‘he could not be larnt to spell it within 24 hours.’ The taker of the bet did teach him, in less than one hour, to pronounce J — O — H — N —; & should have been satisfied, but must needs — as he thought — to win for sartin, & make use of all the time allowed, — larn him the whole alphabet — from A to Izzard. John, so crammed with unnecessary larnin', after having pronounced, before the appointed judges of his ability, the letters ‘J’ — ‘O’ — ‘H’ — fluently, was interrupted by him who had taken the wager, — ‘Well done, John! all right! now for the last letter!’ — meaning the — N —: but, poor John, thinking he meant of the alphabet, which he had worked so hard to get into his head, cried out: — ‘Izzard by G—d!’ and lost his friends' bet.”[1]

🔤 What “Izzard” Really Means

"Izzard” was a legitimate historical term for the letter Z, used in Britain and colonial America from the 17th through the 19th centuries Z. It wasn’t slang or a mistake—it was the accepted term, later replaced by the modern “zee.”

So when Crockett says “from A to Izzard,” he means the whole alphabet—from A to Z.

That’s what makes the John Jones story so funny. Under pressure to spell his name, Jones confidently rattles off J–O–H… and then, draws a blank and instead of the final “N,” reaches for the last letter he was taught and blurts out: “Izzard by G—d!”

The punchline lands perfectly: a man crammed with “too much larning” ends up missing the obvious.

🤠 Crockett’s Parable of “Too Much Larning”

The story works on several levels: it’s comic, exaggerated, and steeped in frontier irony. But beneath the humor lies Crockett’s own insecurity.

Famous for his folksy, self-deprecating style, Crockett often leaned into the image of being “unlarnt”—especially when set against polished statesmen like John Quincy Adams. In the preface Hackett shares, Crockett admits to lacking an "edication,” but he quickly flips the script. His lack of schooling, Crockett argues, was no handicap at all. Adams, he claimed, was “too high larnt”—so stuffed with superfluous knowledge that it clouded his judgment.

Enter the tale of John Jones: a man crammed with so much unnecessary learning that he misses the obvious. The parable becomes Crockett’s sly defense—turning ridicule of him into sage wisdom. It’s more than a joke; it’s a frontier rationale for why being “unlarnt” might actually be an advantage.

📄 A Story Without a Source—Except Lincoln

What makes this tale even more remarkable is its absence from the historical record. It doesn’t appear in Crockett’s published writings, nor in biographies, folklore collections, or congressional archives. That it survives only in Hackett’s letter makes it a rare artifact—a lost Crockett anecdote preserved in the papers of a president. 

Lincoln didn’t reply to Hackett’s letter—or if he did, the reply is lost. But the story survives. Preserved in ink, carried by laughter, and tucked inside the papers of a president who knew that sometimes, the best truths come wrapped in a tall tale.

💭 Closing Thoughts

This story—passed from Crockett to Cambreleng to Hackett to Lincoln—is more than a frontier joke. It’s a glimpse into how humor traveled in 19th-century America: orally, informally, and often undocumented. 

It also reveals something deeper about Lincoln. In the midst of war, he still welcomed stories. He still laughed. He still found meaning in the quirks of language and the wisdom of the “unlarnt.” Hackett knew this—and gave him a tale that was funny, ironic, and unmistakably American.

I wonder if Lincoln ever "retailed" it?

This was another find from the archives of Abraham Lincoln, Storyteller.

Mac

🎩 What do whiskers, a buffalo herd and dam destruction have to do with a murder mystery? That's what Abe wondered. Read his hilarious account of this murder investigation here: "Buffalo Herds, Whisker Hairs, and No Body: Abraham Lincoln’s Very Strange Murder Case".

📑Historical Footnotes

James H. Hackett (1800–1871) was a celebrated American actor, best known for his portrayal of Falstaff. He corresponded with Abraham Lincoln during the Civil War, sharing literary insights and theatrical anecdotes.

Churchill C. Cambreleng (1786–1862) served in the U.S. House of Representatives from 1821 to 1839, representing New York. A close ally of Andrew Jackson, he later served as U.S. Minister to Russia.

David "Davy" Crockett (1786–1836), was a frontiersman, folk hero, and served three non-consecutive terms a congressman from Tennessee (between 1827 and 1835). Known for his colorful storytelling and rugged persona, he died at the Alamo and became a symbol of American frontier spirit.

🕵️ David or Davy Crockett?

The nickname “Davy” was in circulation long before Walt Disney made it iconic in the 1950s—and Hackett’s use of it in 1864 proves it. The idea that Disney invented “Davy” is a myth. What Disney did was popularize and standardize the nickname for a new generation.

🧭 Timeline of the Name “Davy”

• During Crockett’s lifetime (1786–1836): He referred to himself as David Crockett in formal settings, including his autobiography, A Narrative of the Life of David Crockett (1834) and congressional records, and did not like to be called "Davy".

• Early 1800s–1850s: The nickname Davy, however, appears in folk tales, plays, and popular culture. The 1831 play The Lion of the West fictionalized Crockett as “Nimrod Wildfire,” helping spread the mythic image—and the nickname began surfacing in print and oral storytelling.

• Hackett’s 1864 letter: He calls him “the late Davy Crockett,” [see the entire letter below the Works Cited section] showing that the nickname was already familiar and informal enough to be used in correspondence with Lincoln.

• 1950s Disney boom: The TV series Davy Crockett starring Fess Parker, along with The Ballad of Davy Crockett (1955)—a No. 1 hit for weeks—ignited a national craze. Sales of “Davy Crockett” merchandise reportedly grossed over $100 million. Coonskin caps became a cultural phenomenon, worn not only by young boys but also by adults, including presidential candidate Estes Kefauver, who famously sported one at campaign events.

  Disney didn’t invent the nickname “Davy”—they simply branded it, popularizing and standardizing it for a new generation.

📚 Works Cited

[1] Lincoln, A. (1864) Abraham Lincoln papers: Series 1. General Correspondence. 1833 to 1916: James H. Hackett to Abraham Lincoln, Tuesday, Davy Crockett anecdote. August 2. [Manuscript/Mixed Material] Retrieved from the Library of Congress, https://www.loc.gov/item/mal3500900/, November 12, 2025.

[2] "Collected Works of Abraham Lincoln. Volume 6 [Dec. 13, 1862-Nov. 3, 1863]." In the digital collections, University of Michigan Library Digital Collections. Accessed November 13, 2025.

This is the complete Hackett letter about Davy Crockett's tall tale, transcribed and annotated by the Lincoln Studies Center, Knox College. Galesburg, Illinois:

From James H. Hackett to Abraham Lincoln, August 2, 1864

82 Nassau St New York

Aug. 2. 1864

My dear Mr. Lincoln!

As “Genl. Sanford” was lately on a mission to Secy. Stanton; and “Ex. Judge Cowles” — formerly a supporter of is — now a backslider to your administration, and, as “John K. Hackett” is my only son, (& aged 43,) — possibly the enclosed cut may afford information useful at some future time—1

[Hackett enclosed a clipping which contains brief sketches of Sanford, Cowles and John K. Hackett.]

The late Davy Crockett contended with his fellow member of Congress, the late C. C. Cambrelling, — in palliation of the charge which he admitted he could not entirely deny — “want of edication” — that — “some men were too high larnt — John Quincy Adams being one of such, — his superfluous larning sometimes confused his head & his purpose”— Crockett (according to Mr. Cambrelling, who told me the anecdote — which I think I once repeated to you) proceeded very ingeniously & humorously to instance a case, where “a man knew too much ” & suffered for it”—

[Crockett story as related by Churchill C. Cambreleng to Hackett]

“In Tennessee, one John Jones was objected to, as a political candidate for an office; ‘because, he was so illiterate he could'nt spell his given name — John,' & a wager of $10. was offered & taken that ‘he could not be larnt to spell it within 24 hours'— The taker of the bet did teach him, in less than one hour, to pronounce J — O — H — N —; & should have been satisfied, but must needs — as he thought — to win for sartin , & make use of all the time allowed, — larn him the whole alphabet — from A to Izzard— John, so crammed with unnecessary larnin', after having pronounced, before the appointed judges of his ability, the letters ‘J’ — ‘O’ — ‘H’ — fluently, was interrupted by him who had taken the wager, — “Well done, John! all right! now for the last letter!” — meaning the — N —: but, poor John, thinking he meant of the alphabet, which he had worked so hard to get into his head, cried out: — “Izzard by G—d!”

and lost his friends' bet.”

There is something said in Shakespeare about “a thrice told tale, vexing the dull ear of a drowsy man.” I feel sure you never heard this from me but “onest” before; & contend that if you had, “twict,” you still have the advantage of any listener, who, if bored, cant throw his ears — as you can the enclosed — in the fire, unread— Yrs. always

Jas. H. Hackett [1]

🎭 Abraham Lincoln’s Favorite Line from Hamlet Wasn’t “To Be”

James H. Hackett

In August 1863, with the Civil War raging and casualty lists piling up post-Gettysburg, Abraham Lincoln took a quiet moment to write a fan letter to a stage actor.

James H. Hackett was internationally famous for playing Sir John Falstaff, the roguish knight in Shakespeare’s Henry IV. Lincoln, a lifelong Shakespeare addict, had seen Hackett perform in Washington and wrote a short note of praise. But tucked inside Lincoln made a startling literary confession:

“Unlike you gentlemen of the profession, I think the soliloquy in Hamlet commencing ‘O, my offence is rank’ surpasses that commencing ‘To be, or not to be.’”

It was a staggering preference.

Every theatergoer loved Hamlet’s “To be, or not to be”—a philosophical meditation on existential dread. But Lincoln preferred King Claudius — the usurper who murdered his brother for the crown and, in Act III, tries to pray but finds himself spiritually paralyzed:

“My stronger guilt defeats my strong intent…”

Why would Lincoln prefer the villain’s prayer? 

Because Hamlet’s speech is abstract, while Claudius’s is raw, personal, and morally urgent. Claudius is trapped between conscience and ambition, wrestling with the terrifying cost of power. To a President carrying the crushing weight of a bloody war, Claudius’s torment wasn't fiction—it was a reflection of the agony of executive accountability. He had to make decisions that cost lives, challenged laws, and reshape the nation. He knew what it meant to wrestle with conscience—and to do so publicly.

Then came the twist.

Flattered by the President’s praise, Hackett printed copies of the letter to show friends. Naturally, it leaked.

Opposition newspapers like the New York Herald went feral. They published Lincoln's letter and mocked him relentlessly, calling him an illiterate "backwoods ape" pretending to be a refined literary critic while young men died in the mud.

Horrified, Hackett sent a frantic letter apologizing for subjecting the President to national embarrassment.

On November 2, 1863—just seventeen days before delivering the Gettysburg Address—Lincoln replied with characteristic, unbothered grace:

“Give yourself no uneasiness on the subject... These comments constitute a fair specimen of what has occurred to me through life. I have endured too much of it to be disturbed by it.”

In one short exchange, Lincoln gave us a rare window into his soul: a leader who sought solace in the darkest corners of moral drama, and who possessed the unflappable thick skin required to survive the storm.

From the archives of Abraham Lincoln, Storyteller.

Mac

📚 Works Cited

[1] Abraham Lincoln to James H. Hackett, Aug. 17, 1863, and Nov. 2, 1863, Collected Works of Abraham Lincoln, Vol. 6, pp. 392–393, 558–559.

 

Six True Stories of Abraham Lincoln's Grit

“There Was a Man -- Abe Lincoln Licks Jack Armstrong"
by Harold Von Schmidt,
July 1949 issue of Esquire Magazine

During their first debate on August 21, 1858, in Ottawa, Illinois, Stephen Douglas made this remark:

“Lincoln is one of those peculiar men who perform with admirable skill everything which they undertake...He could beat any of the boys wrestling...and the dignity and impartiality with which he presided at a horse race or fist fight, excited the admiration and won the praise of everybody that was present and participated

Though it wasn’t meant as praise, Douglas inadvertently captured the dichotomy that was Abraham Lincoln: toughest, nicest, roughest, kindest, strongest, most sensible, man on the frontier. Those who admired intellect and character respected him. Those who revered toughness and physical prowess were devoted to him.

Lincoln’s contemporaries—William Herndon, Henry Clay Whitney, Colonel Andrew McClure, and others—recounted these stories not as curiosities, but as essential threads in the fabric of his complex legacy.

The pattern is always the same: Lincoln was a reluctant participant. But when the moment called for it—whether to defend a friend, protect a woman’s dignity, or confront gangs of bullies bent on injustice—he didn’t hesitate. He waded right in.

Here are six stories—part history, part folklore—that show Lincoln at his most physical, principled, and unforgettable.

These elements of Lincoln's story have became part of American folklore.

Here are six of Lincoln’s finest moments.

1. The Armstrong Throwdown (New Salem)

Lincoln didn’t seek out fights—but when challenged, he met the moment with strength and composure.

Jack Armstrong, leader of the Clary’s Grove Boys—a rough-and-rowdy gang known for testing newcomers—was the strongest man on the Sangamon River. Lincoln, new to town and working for Mr. Offutt, was rumored to be able to outrun, outwrestle, or outwork any man in the county. Armstrong’s crew demanded a match.

Lincoln tried to avoid it. But the pressure mounted, and the two men wrestled. When Armstrong resorted to foul play, Lincoln’s patience snapped. He seized Armstrong by the neck and shook him like a child. The crowd, mostly Armstrong’s men, looked ready to pounce. Lincoln backed up against Offutt’s store and calmly awaited the attack.

Armstrong stepped forward, shook Lincoln’s hand, and declared:

“Boys, Abe Lincoln is the best fellow that ever broke into this settlement. He shall be one of us.”

From that day on, Armstrong and the Clary’s Grove Boys were Lincoln’s loyal allies. Lincoln didn’t just win the match—he won their respect.

2. The Indian Standoff (Black Hawk War)

During the Black Hawk War, a peaceful Native American arrived at Lincoln’s camp with a safe-conduct letter. The men, inflamed by war tensions, rushed to kill him.

Lincoln stepped between them and their victim. His men had never seen him so angry.

“Men,” he said, “this must not be done! He must not be killed by us!”

One soldier called him a coward. Lincoln stared him down:

“If any man thinks I am a coward, let him test it. Choose your weapons!”

No one did.

Years later, Lincoln reflected that his life and character had been at stake—and that he had to forget he was an officer and assert himself as a man. His men weren’t soldiers, just armed citizens. Arresting them would have sparked mutiny. But Lincoln’s moral authority held.

He didn’t throw a punch. He didn’t need to.

3. The Pappsville Breeches Toss

Lincoln’s first campaign speech nearly turned into a brawl.

At Pappsville, just west of Springfield, Lincoln saw a friend getting roughed up in the crowd. He stepped down from the platform, pushed through the mob, grabbed the attacker by the neck and breeches, and tossed him ten feet.

Then, without missing a beat, he climbed back on stage and began:

“Gentlemen and Fellow-Citizens, I presume you all know who I am. I am humble Abraham Lincoln…”

It was classic Lincoln: loyal, theatrical, and completely unshaken.

4. The Duel That Never Happened (Springfield)

When Lincoln mocked James Shields in print, Shields demanded satisfaction and challenged Lincoln to a duel. Lincoln accepted the challenge—but chose broadswords and a comically long dueling distance.

He trained methodically and wrote detailed instructions for the fight, including a plank between them that neither could cross. It was absurd. It was brilliant.

When asked why he chose broadswords, Lincoln replied:

“To tell you the truth, Linder, I didn’t want to kill Shields... and furthermore, I didn’t want the damned fellow to kill me.”

The duel was called off. Lincoln’s wit and restraint won the day.

5. The Smartweed Smackdown (New Salem)

A man entered Offutt’s store, cursing and provoking Lincoln in front of two women. Lincoln asked him to stop. He didn’t.

Lincoln told him to wait until the women left. Then they stepped outside.

Lincoln threw him to the ground, held him like a child, and rubbed smartweed into his face and eyes until the man bellowed with pain. Then Lincoln fetched water, washed his face, and did everything he could to ease his suffering.

The man became a lifelong friend.

Lincoln didn’t fight out of anger. He fought to make a point—and then made peace.

6. The Thompson Fight (Black Hawk War)

During the Black Hawk War, Lincoln wrestled Nathan “Dow” Thompson of Union County—a man he later called “the strongest man I ever met.”

They wrestled. Lincoln was thrown. Then thrown again.

A hundred men ripped off their coats, ready to fight. Lincoln raised his voice:

“Boys, this man can throw me fairly, if he didn’t do it this time; so let’s give up that I was beat fairly.”

The crowd calmed. The fight ended with dignity.

Lincoln lost the match—but won the moment.

Final Bell

These stories have become part of America’s folklore. Lincoln wasn’t a brawler. He wasn’t showy. He didn’t go looking for trouble.

But as Henry Clay Whitney, Lincoln’s friend and biographer, cautioned:

“Although he could endure many insults without resentment, it need not be supposed that Lincoln was a man to brook an unequivocal insult… he was an utter stranger to fear.”

When the moment called for it, Lincoln waded right in. Whether it was a bully in New Salem or a nation on the brink of collapse, he met the moment with courage, clarity, and resolve.

And he did it, again and again.

Call it courage. Call it charisma. 

Or just call it what it was—Abraham Lincoln.

Mac

📚 Works Cited

Browne, Francis F. (1913) The Every-day Life of Abraham Lincoln. Chicago, IL : Browne & Howell Co.

Burlingame, Michael. (2008) Abraham Lincoln A Life: Volume One. Baltimore, MD: The Johns Hopkins University Press.

"First Debate with Stephen A. Douglas at Ottawa, Illinois, August 21, 1858". Collected Works of Abraham Lincoln. Volume 3 [Aug. 21, 1858-Mar. 4, 1860]. In the University of Michigan Library Digital Collections. Accessed November 9, 2025.

"Lincoln Before Politics". Abraham Lincoln Presidential Museum and Library Blog. Retrieved November 9, 2025.

McClure, Alexander K. (1901) Lincoln's Yarns and Stories. Chicago,IL: The John Winston Company.

McNamara, Robert. "Was Abraham Lincoln Really a Wrestler?" ThoughtCo, May 9, 2025. Retrieved November 9, 2025.

Whitney, Henry C. (1892) Life on the Circuit with Lincoln. Boston, MA: Estes and Lauriat, Publishers.

 

Abraham Lincoln’s First Campaign Speech Started with a Fight

 

Before he was a lawyer, before he was president, before he was a legend… Abraham Lincoln was just a guy who knew how to stand up for his friends and win over a crowd.

After the Black Hawk War, Lincoln returned to New Salem with a growing reputation and a nomination for the Illinois State Legislature. His military service had lasted just three months, but it left a strong impression on the people around him.

His first campaign speech was set for Pappsville, about eleven miles west of Springfield. But before Lincoln could speak, a fight broke out in the crowd. Not a political one. A real one. Fists. Elbows. Chaos. Lincoln saw one of his friends, Rowan Herndon,  getting roughed up. That didn’t sit right. He didn’t hesitate.

Leaping off the tree stump, he pushed through the crowd, found the man who wouldn’t back down, and—according to an eyewitness—“grabbed him by the nape of the neck and the seat of his breeches, tossing him ‘ten or twelve feet easily.’” [1]

Then, as if nothing had happened, Lincoln climbed up on the stump and began:

“Gentlemen and Fellow-Citizens, I presume you all know who I am. I am humble Abraham Lincoln…”

It’s such a Lincoln moment—loyal, direct, and a little bit theatrical. He cleared the stage, then owned it. No fuss. All business. A little bruising. A lot of charisma.

From the archives of Abraham Lincoln, Storyteller.

Mac

🎩 This Lincoln-to-the-rescue moment wasn’t a one-off. There was another time he dropped through a trapdoor to save a friend from a hostile crowd.

📚 Works Cited

[1] Browne, Francis F. (1913) The Every-day Life of Abraham Lincoln. Chicago, IL : Browne & Howell Co. p. 41.

What if?: Abraham Lincoln in the Age of TikToc

 

Abe Lincoln's selfie.
No filter. No Photoshop.
Just 19th-century vibes and 21st-century sass.
Lincoln was ahead of his time.
(photo from Americ's Best Pics and Videos)

📹 A ring light on a timeless president

Imagine Honest Abe with a ring light and a phone full of drafts. Would he lip-sync Shakespeare? Drop hot takes on the Emancipation Proclamation? Or post handball trick shots with Ward Hill Lamon?

Maybe he didn’t have a ring light, but he had the attention. And he knew how to use it.

Lincoln had the storytelling chops, the dry wit, and the emotional depth to go viral. He wouldn’t use TikTok for dances—but for story drops: moral reflections, mini speeches, and maybe a how-to session with Mathew Brady on lighting and angles.

He loved getting his picture taken—more than 130 times. He told stories with warmth, wit, and devastating clarity. He had a flair for drama, a gift for brevity, and a deep understanding of how to connect with people.

If Abraham Lincoln were alive today, would he be on TikTok? We think yes. And here’s what that might look like. Enjoy!

🎩 Lincoln’s TikTok Persona

• Username: @HonestAbe1860

• Bio: Tall, honest, and ugly. Just here to preserve the Union one TikTok at a time. 

• Vibe: Thoughtful, witty, emotionally resonant. A mix of storytelling, satire, and moral clarity—with a dash of dry humor and some frontier grit thrown in.

🎥 Content Lincoln Would Create

• POV Videos “POV: You just signed the Emancipation Proclamation.” “POV: You’re Mary Todd and I just said we’re going to the theater.”

• Hot Takes “Why compromise isn’t weakness.” “The real reason I grew the beard.”

• Behind-the-Scenes “Cabinet drama: Seward vs. Stanton edition.” “How I wrote the Gettysburg Address in under 300 words.”

• Challenges Handball trick shots with Ward Hill Lamon. “Beat me in wrestling and I’ll abolish your curfew.”

• Music Moments Reacting to ‘Dixie’ like: ‘We captured it, folks.’ Singing ‘Jimmy Crack Corn’ with a banjo filter.

📱 TikToks Lincoln Would Totally Drop

• 🎩 “The Almanac Trial”
• 📜 “POV: You just got elected president and the first state seceded”
• 🕊️ “Sad violin over ‘With malice toward none…’”
• 🏀 “Handball challenge: and I’ll let you borrow my stovepipe hat”
• 🎶 “Duet with Frederick Douglass: ‘Tell ’em, Fred.’”

Would he be shadowbanned for too much gravitas? Or become the most-followed account in history for his Gettysburg mic drop?

📚 Cameo Mention: The Almanac Trial

One of Lincoln’s most TikTok-worthy moments? The Almanac Trial. Imagine him calmly flipping to a moonrise chart while a witness claims to have seen a murder by moonlight.

“Moon was down. Case dismissed.”

We’ve told that story in full in an another post—TikTok-style. [See below.]

🎩 Abe’s Got That Main Character Energy

Lincoln’s quirks make him relatable. His emotional depth makes him timeless. And his love of storytelling makes him the perfect candidate for modern social media formats. This isn’t just fun—it’s a way to reimagine history for a new generation.

Whether you’re a TikTok regular or just TikTok-curious, imagining Lincoln in this space reminds us that even the most iconic figures were, at heart, human. And humans love to connect.

That’s all for today. Lincoln out 🎩

Mac

History hits different when Abe’s got a ring light 💡

🎩 Did you like this What if? look at Abraham Lincoln re-imagined as a TicToc user? Well, here's a post about an actual Lincoln event that we fashioned in a TicTok storyboard format. It's a food-for-thought look at making Lincoln and history more fun. 

Like for Part 2 👀: A TicToc Storyboard: Abraham Lincoln's Almanac Trial.

Or if you want a quirky story about our sixteenth president, how about The Honest Abe You Didn’t Know: Handball Hustler?

🎧 Abraham Lincoln’s Music Playlist: A Mixtape of Memory and Melody

He didn’t stream it—but he would’ve loved it.

Abraham Lincoln couldn’t carry a tune, didn’t play an instrument, and once described himself as “unmusical.” But music moved him deeply. From comic banjo ditties to tear-stained ballads, these were the songs that stirred the soul of a man carrying the weight of a nation.

This playlist isn’t just entertainment—it’s emotional archaeology. A mixtape of memory and melody, curated not for performance, but for feeling.

It's a window into Lincoln’s inner world.

🎧 Lincoln’s Listening Habits

Abraham Lincoln preferred "parlor music" performances—especially from his friend Ward Hill Lamon, who traveled with a banjo and a repertoire of ballads. Lincoln used music as emotional release, often requesting songs late at night during the war. Though he didn’t perform, he listened with intensity, sometimes moved to tears. His playlist wasn’t about entertainment—it was about feeling. These songs gave him solace, stirred his patriotism, and reminded him of home. In a time of national fracture, music helped hold him together.

📱 Lincoln’s Playlist: Side A

Each track here was either requested by Lincoln, deeply moved him, or became part of his emotional landscape. These songs helped him carry grief, find laughter, and remember who he was before the war. They reveal a man of deep feeling, quiet reflection, and rollicking humor. illustrative of this phase of Mr. Lincoln's character,—the blending of the mirthful and the melancholy in his singular love of music and verse.

Together, they form the soundtrack of a soul. 

📀 Track 1: “Twenty Years Ago”

“I visited the old churchyard, and took some flowers to strew / Upon the graves of these we loved, some twenty years ago.”

This is Lincoln’s favorite. A ballad of childhood and loss that moved him to tears. Lamon sang it near the Antietam battlefield, and Lincoln quietly broke.

📀 Track 2: “The Blue Juniata”

“Wild roved an Indian girl, bright Alfarata, / Where sweep the waters of the blue Juniata…”

Written in 1844, this was one of the most popular parlor songs of the 19th century—and the first major hit by an American woman, Marion Dix Sullivan. A sentimental ballad about Alfarata, a Native American maiden singing of her warrior by the Juniata River, it later inspired the name of Alpharetta, Georgia. Lincoln often requested it; the song brought him visible comfort during the war.

📀 Track 3: “Ben Bolt”

"Don't you remember sweet Alice, Ben Bolt,—Sweet Alice whose hair was so brown,"

Thomas Dunn English wrote the poem "Ben Bolt" in 1842, and it was set to music by Nelson Kneass in 1848. It's a nostalgic song of fading youth and lost love. Its themes echoed Lincoln’s emotional scars, especially the death of Ann Rutledge.

📀 Track 4: “The Lament of the Irish Emigrant”

“There’s nothing left to care for now, / Since my poor Mary died.”

The song reflects the deep sorrow and nostalgia of an Irish emigrant who mourns the death of his beloved wife, Mary, while preparing to leave his homeland for a new life abroad. This song hit Lincoln particularly hard—especially the stanza containing the  lines above.

📀 Track 5: “Home! Sweet Home!”

“Mid pleasures and palaces though we may roam, / Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home.”

A popular 19th-century song adapted from American actor and dramatist John Howard Payne's 1823 opera. The song's melody was composed by Englishman Henry Bishop. The lyrics tugged at Lincoln’s homesick heart. He reportedly wept when it was performed at the White House.

📀 Track 6: “The Doxology (Old Hundredth)"

 “Praise God, from whom all blessings flow…”

A solemn hymn Lincoln likely heard in church and at public gatherings. The tune—Old Hundredth—dates back to the 16th century and was traditionally paired with Psalm 100. Its most familiar lyrics begin with the above line.

The melody’s reverent simplicity matched Lincoln’s spiritual temperament and quiet moral grounding.

📀 Track 7: “The Sword of Bunker Hill”

“I leave you, mark me, mark me now— / The Sword of Bunker Hill.”

A stirring patriotic ballad—written during the Civil War Era (1861) by William Ross and music by Bernard Covert—that tells the story of a dying Revolutionary War veteran passing his sword and his legacy to his son. Lincoln admired its reverence for sacrifice and national memory.

📀 Track 8: “Dixie”

"Dar’s buckwheat cakes an Injun batter, / Makes your fat a little fatter; / Look away!  Look away!  Look away!  Dixie Land."

Loved by many, despised by others, “Dixie” is still among the most recognizable of all American songs.  Ironically written by a Northerner, Daniel Decatur Emmett, “Dixie” debuted in New York in 1859 and quickly became a Southern favorite—eventually the unofficial anthem of the Confederacy. Yet Union bands also played it, and Lincoln counted it among his favorites—but it was NOT his fav. After the war, he asked a band to perform it at the White House, saying:

"I have always thought 'Dixie' one of the best tunes I have ever heard.  Our adversaries over the way attempted to appropriate it, but I insisted yesterday that we fairly captured it…I now request the band to favor me with its performance."  (April 10, 1865)

📀 Track 9: “Listen to the Mockingbird”

“She’s sleeping in the valley, / And the mockingbird is singing where she lies.”

 A very popular and wistful parlor song about memory and mourning, this 1855 song tells of a singer mourning his sweetheart, now buried beneath the mockingbird’s song. Lincoln was especially fond of it.

📀 Track 10: “The Blue Tail Fly (Jimmie Crack Corn)

“They lay him under a simmon tree / His epitaph is there to see / 'Beneath this stone I'm forced to lie / Victim of de blue-tail fly.' / Jimmie crack corn an' I don't care"

A rollicking, comic folk song Lincoln often requested to lift his spirits. Also known as “Jimmy Crack Corn,” it tells the story of a slave mourning his master’s death—possibly caused by a pesky fly. Lincoln used it as emotional relief, asking Ward Hill Lamon to sing it during moments of deep melancholy. Its playful absurdity made it a favorite antidote.

🎭 Lincoln’s Comic Relief: The Ditties That Broke the Spell

Lincoln didn’t just cry to music—he laughed with it too. When melancholy crept in, he’d ask Lamon to sing comic ditties like “Picayune Butler” or parody tunes like “Life on the Ocean Wave.” These weren’t playlist staples, but they were emotional lifelines—used to jolt him out of sorrow and restore his humor.

He once said Lamon’s “rudeness of kind intent” was exactly what he needed.

🎵 Track Spotlight: “Twenty Years Ago”

Ward Hill Lamon, Lincoln’s close friend and musical companion, called this “the little sad song” Lincoln loved above all others. A simple ballad about childhood, lost love, and the passage of time, it touched the deepest part of Lincoln’s grief and often moved him to tears—on the Illinois circuit and in the White House.

“I visited the old churchyard, and took some flowers to strew / Upon the graves of these we loved, some twenty years ago."

Lamon described Lincoln’s connection to the song with quiet reverence:

“[H]e loved simple ballads and ditties, such as the common people sing… but no one in the list touched his great heart as did the song of ‘Twenty Years Ago.’ Many a time… have I seen him in tears while I was rendering, in my poor way, that homely melody.”

“My lids have long been dry, Tom, but tears came to my eyes; / I thought of her I loved so well, those early broken ties…”

This wasn’t just nostalgia—it was grief, reflection, and the quiet ache of memory. Lincoln didn’t sing, but he listened with his whole heart. Lamon recalled Lincoln and others sitting in silence, overcome by the song’s sorrow.

”But none were left to greet me, Tom, and few were left to know, / Who played with us upon the green, some twenty years ago.” 

It wasn’t grand or operatic—it was humble, nostalgic, and deeply human. Just like Lincoln.

🎤 Final Track: Lincoln, Unplugged

So there you have it—Abraham Lincoln’s emotional mixtape. No earbuds, no Spotify, just a banjo, a few ballads, and a president who felt everything deeply. He didn’t stream it, but he lived it. From tear-stained hymns to comic ditties about flies, Lincoln’s playlist reminds us that even the most stoic leaders need a soundtrack.

If you’re ever feeling presidential-level melancholy, try “Twenty Years Ago.” If you just need to crack a smile, cue up “The Blue-Tailed Fly.” And if you want to reclaim something with swagger, blast “Dixie” and call it a win.

Lincoln didn’t just lead a nation—he listened to one. Loudly, emotionally, and sometimes with a banjo.

From the archives of Abraham Lincoln, Storyteller.

Mac

[This post is lovingly dedicated to my wife, who sparked the whole idea with one brilliant question—posed to a husband who clearly had no clue: “What kind of music did Lincoln like?” Her blank-stare moment became this playlist. Thanks Ag, for asking the perfect question.]

🎩 Lincoln's loved the arts. In fact, he defended, what local preachers called "The Devil's Workshop". Read: The Devil’s Workshop? Abraham Lincoln Defends the Arts

📚 Works Cited

Most of the above information used in this posot came from Lamon, Ward Hill. Ed. Dorothy Lamon Teillard. (1911) Recollections of Abraham Lincoln 1847-1865. Washington, D.C.: Published by the Editor.

The Abe You Didn’t Know: Handball Hustler

Lloyd Ostendorf print of Lincoln
playing handball (1971)

Yep, you read that right. Abraham Lincoln—the 16th President of the United States, the Savior of the Union, and our first martyred leader—was a handball guy.

Lincoln definitely had an athletic side. His wrestling prowess is well known. Believe it or not, Lincoln was kind of a jock.

Even he admitted it:

“For such an awkward fellow, I am pretty sure-footed. It used to take a pretty dexterous man to throw me.” [1]

His legendary strength and wrestling prowess are well documented, but Lincoln’s love of sport went far beyond grappling. He enjoyed running, the standing broad jump, “corner ball” (an old Amish/Mennonite game), and bowling—known then as “rolling ten pins.” These weren’t idle pastimes. Lincoln saw physical activity as essential for both body and mind. [2]

And competition was his lifeblood.

But it was handball—called “fives” in his day, named for the open-handed strike—that became Lincoln’s sport of choice in middle age. The game could be played with two, four, or six players, divided evenly into teams. Lincoln typically played doubles, and among his Springfield circle, the matches were fast-paced, physical, and fiercely competitive.

Why so intense? Because the losers paid 10¢ each—a not-so-trivial sum at the time (about $3.25 today). Depending on the number of players, the winners could walk away with 10 to 30¢ per game. That little wager added fuel to Lincoln’s already fiery drive to win.

Dr. Preston H. Bailhache described the action:

“It began with one person bouncing the ball on the ground and striking it with his hand toward the wall… and as it bounds back from the wall one of the opponents strikes it in the same manner, so that the ball is kept going back and forth against the wall until someone misses the rebound, which furnishes a very active and exciting contest.” [3]

Although the matches were active and exciting, even back then, the setting in which to play them was anything but—especially in a midwestern frontier town.

🏘️ Springfield’s Handball Alley

Their court of choice? A vacant lot in Springfield, Illinois. The brick walls of the Illinois State Journal newspaper building and the John Carmody store formed the front and back boundaries. Hardpacked dirt made up the surface. The other two sides were enclosed by wooden fences, six to eight feet high, with rough bench seating for spectators and players awaiting their turn. [4]

Court clerk Thomas W.S. Kidd recalled Lincoln’s enthusiasm and competitive nature:

“In 1859… Mr. Lincoln [was] vigorously engaged in the sport as though life depended upon it. He would play until nearly exhausted and then take a seat on the rough board benches arranged along the sides for the accommodation of friends and the tired players.” [5]

There was some dispute, however, as to how good Lincoln really was. Many said he was often the winner because his long arms and long legs were perfect for reaching and returning the ball from any angle his adversary could send it. But one young man, William Donnelly, the nephew of the store owner, Carmody, whose shop served as the backstop of the handball court, begged to differ:

“Mr. Lincoln was not a good player. He learned the game when he was too old. But he liked to play and did tolerably well." [4]

 Kidd also recounted a particularly intense match where Lincoln and his teammate, William Turney, collided while chasing a ball. Both were hurt—but, as Kidd wryly noted, “not so badly as to discourage either from being found in the ‘alley’ the next day.” [5]

🕰️ Lincoln’s Last Game

Even during the three-day Republican National Convention in Chicago (May 16–18, 1860), Lincoln reportedly played handball daily in that same Springfield lot—relieving the stress of waiting for news of his nomination to arrive by telegraph. [5]

Historians agree: Lincoln never played handball again after that week.

So it turns out, Lincoln didn’t just charge juries or run wars—he also knew how to serve up a mean handball.

🏆 Lincoln the Competitor

What drove Lincoln's love of handball—and nearly everything else in his life was Lincoln's fierce competitive streak. 

Whether on the handball court, in courtroom arguments, during stump speeches, or competitive debates, Lincoln played to win. His mastery of language, Euclid, his relentless preparation for every speech or court case, and his strategic mind weren’t just indicators of brilliance—they were also signs of a man who hated to lose. Even as Commander-in-Chief, Lincoln out-maneuvered rivals, reshaped public opinion, and fought for control of the war narrative. His competitiveness wasn’t loud or boastful—it was quiet, focused, and deeply embedded in everything he did.

Another glimpse into the archives of Abraham Lincoln—storyteller, statesman, and handball hustler.

Mac

☃️ There’s a Christmas story hidden in Abe Lincoln’s life — and it’s not the one you expect. Abraham Lincoln and Christmas: A Quiet Story

🤾‍♂️ Postscript: 

In October 2004, the Smithsonian Institution displayed what it claimed was Abraham Lincoln’s handball as part of its exhibit “Sports: Breaking Records, Breaking Barriers.” The ball—small (about the size of a tennis ball), dirty, and well-worn—came from the Lincoln Home in Springfield, where Lincoln lived with his family from 1844 to 1861. [4]

It was discovered in a dresser drawer during restoration work in the 1950s. Smithsonian officials say it was donated by descendants of one of Lincoln’s handball partners. Whether Lincoln actually used the ball is uncertain—but the possibility is undeniably intriguing. [4]

Handball from Abraham Lincoln's time.
(Courtesy of the Smithsonian in Washington, D.C.)

📚 Works Cited

[1] Burlingame, Michael and John R. Turner Ettlinger, editors. Inside Lincoln’s White House: The Complete Civil War Diary of John Hay (November 8, 1864). p. 244.

[2] "Abraham Lincoln the Athlete". Abraham Lincoln's Classroom: The Lehrman Institute Presents. Retrieved August 24, 2025.

[3] “Lincolniana Notes: Recollections of a Springfield Doctor”, Journal of the Illinois State Historical Society, June 1954. p. 60.

[4] Hunter, Al. "The Abraham Lincoln Handball". The Weekly View Community Newspaper (Indianapolis, IN) website, September 20, 2018. Retrieved August 20, 2025. 

[5] Thomas W. S. Kidd, “How Abraham Lincoln Received the News of His Nomination for President,” Journal of the Illinois State Historical Society, April-July 1922. pp. 508-509.

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

 The Political Intuition 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 can echo for generations.

Now picture this: an 11‑year‑old girl in a small New York town, far from the political battlegrounds of Washington, unknowingly influencing the public image of a man who would become one of the most recognizable figures in American history.

Before Lincoln led the nation through war, before his words were etched into the American conscience, before he even set foot in the White House — Grace Bedell noticed something no one else had bothered to say. And with a single letter, she nudged the image of a future president.

A Political Instinct — Even If She Didn’t Know It

Grace Bedell’s letter wasn’t a calculated political memo. It was earnest, direct, and rooted in the intuitive clarity children often have. But what she suggested — that Lincoln grow whiskers — revealed something adults around him had missed: appearance shapes connection.

Lincoln’s campaign emphasized the “rail‑splitter” image, the hardworking frontier man. Bedell saw something simpler and more human: that a beard would soften his thin face, make him look more distinguished, and — crucially — appeal to women. Women couldn’t vote, but they certainly influenced the men who did.

She wasn’t thinking in terms of strategy. But her instinct aligned with what modern campaigns now treat as gospel: relatability matters. Image matters. Emotional connection matters.

In that sense, her letter anticipated the logic of political branding long before the term existed.

The Letter That Reached Lincoln

On October 15, 1860, from her home in Westfield, New York, Grace Bedell wrote to the Republican nominee. She didn’t mention policy or party. She went straight to the point:

“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.” [1]

She understood — perhaps better than Lincoln himself — that influence often works through the people who aren’t in the voting booth.

Lincoln’s Response — And His Transformation

Four days later, Lincoln wrote back with gentle humor, wondering whether suddenly growing whiskers might seem absurd. But something about her letter stuck.

By the time he began his inaugural journey, the beard was fully grown — the beard that would become iconic.

And when his train stopped in Westfield, he asked for Grace. He greeted her, acknowledged her letter, and showed her the whiskers she had suggested. The moment was brief, but unforgettable.

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 Small Voice, A Lasting Image

Lincoln would go on to become one of the most consequential leaders in American history. His speeches, his resolve, and his leadership defined his presidency. But tucked inside that story is the quieter truth that an 11‑year‑old girl helped shape the face the world now associates with him.

Grace Bedell didn’t craft a political strategy. She simply understood something true about people: we respond to the person before we respond to the platform.

Her letter wasn’t about vanity. It was about connection — the subtle forces that shape public perception long before a vote is cast.

And in that sense, she revealed something Lincoln himself would later embody: the power of words, simply offered, to move people and alter history.

This was another anecdote from the archives of Abraham Lincoln, Storyteller.

Mac

🎩 Curious about what happened when Grace Bedell wrote Lincoln again—two years after her beard letter? [Read: “The Letter That Lincoln Never Read”]

📚 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 from the archives of Abraham Lincoln, Storyteller.

Mac

🎩 Enjoy this quirky story? Here's another one from the archives: The Honest Abe You Didn’t Know: Handball Hustler.

🤠 Want to read a never-before-published Davy Crockett tale about a frontier spelling contest? A Shakespearean actor shared it a letter to President Abraham Lincoln. Humor, history, and a forgotten alphabet quirk collide in one of the strangest gems found tucked inside the Lincoln Papers at the Library of Congress. 👉 Read the full tale here.

👥 If Lincoln’s teeth made you curious about the man himself, here’s a post that looks at the ideas that shaped his moral world:

Who Counts as “Us”? Abraham Lincoln Answers the Question

📚 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. 

How President Lincoln Settled a Playground Dispute

 

Abraham Lincoln pencil Portrait
by Victor Powell 

Shortly after Abraham Lincoln’s inauguration in 1861, amidst the mounting tensions of the secession crisis, a curious letter landed on his desk at the Executive Mansion. It wasn’t from a politician or dignitary, but from a schoolteacher in Springfield, Illinois, seeking to settle a classroom dispute.

The teacher’s student, young George Evans Patten, had claimed he’d met Lincoln the previous year in Springfield and even shaken his hand. His classmates, unconvinced, teased him relentlessly. Determined to resolve the matter, the teacher wrote to the President, asking for confirmation.

Despite the weighty decisions Lincoln faced—such as reinforcing Fort Sumter and addressing the shortage of Union troops—he took the time to respond. In a brief note dated March 19, 1861, Lincoln wrote:

To Whom it May Concern: I did see and talk with Master George Evans Patten, last May, at Springfield, Illinois. Respectfully, A. Lincoln.

Rather than sending the reply to the teacher, Lincoln addressed it directly to young Patten, ensuring the boy had the proof he needed to silence his doubters. The letter later became a cherished artifact, passing through the hands of collectors and earning recognition for its charm and historical significance.

This anecdote offers a glimpse into Lincoln’s character—his ability to balance the gravitas of leadership with moments of humanity and kindness, even in the midst of national turmoil.

This is another anecdote from the archives of Abe Lincoln, Storyteller.

Mac

🎩 Lincoln always stood up for the underdog. But did you know he even saved The Devil's Workshop?

📚 Works Cited

[1] "Collected Works of Abraham Lincoln. Volume 4 [Mar. 5, 1860-Oct. 24, 1861]." In the digital collection Collected Works of Abraham Lincoln. University of Michigan Library Digital Collections. p. 294. Retrieved February 5, 2025.

[2] Ayres, Chris. "How Lincoln put the school bullies in their place". The Times (London) - November 19, 2009.