Generals in the White House

How many generals have become president?

Throughout U.S. history, the electorate has periodically swooned at the idea of being led by a man in uniform. A dozen former generals have traded in their stars for the presidency, including the first president, George Washington. Four other generals won the nomination of a major party but lost the election. Heroes have strong appeal, of course, and can offer experience at making momentous decisions, creating order out of chaos, and protecting our country from its enemies. But Americans have also demonstrated great ambivalence about turning leadership of the nation over to men accustomed to unquestioned authority. We’ve never forgotten that the United States was born of a rebellion against a military empire.

What kind of general makes the cut?

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One who appears not to want the job. George Washington set the modern standard by emulating Cincinnatus, the archetypal citizen-soldier, who had to be coaxed out of pastoral retirement to lead Rome through a military crisis in 458 B.C. With the enemy defeated, Cincinnatus walked away from political power to return to his farm. After the Revolution, Washington immediately retreated to Mount Vernon, fearing that if he were our first president, the fledgling republic would be ruled by a succession of military dictators. Washington allowed the electoral college to name him president in 1789 only when Americans made clear that no one else would do. In the 214 years since, every successful general-turned-president has conveyed the impression that he’s holding his nose as he jumps into the cesspool of politics.

What about their political views?

Most have run as public servants of amorphous views, not partisans. In 1848, Maj. Gen. Zachary Taylor won the presidency with the slogan, “Untrammeled With Party Obligations.” Five-star Gen. Dwight D. Eisenhower was such an unknown quantity that Republicans and Democrats alike courted him. But as a sheer political cipher, no one compares to Gen. William Henry Harrison. “Let him say not one single word about his principles, or his creed,” advised campaign operative Nicholas Biddle, “let him say nothing, promise nothing. Let no committee, no convention, no town meeting ever extract from him a single word about what he thinks now, or what he will do hereafter.” Following this advice assiduously, Harrison was swept into office in 1840.

Does it help to be a hero?

Absolutely. Americans love a winner. Washington, Ulysses S. Grant, Eisenhower, and Andrew Jackson were all credited with great military triumphs. But other general-presidents, such as William Henry Harrison, have had pretty thin credentials. Harrison’s chief claim to fame was sacking the Indian village of Tippecanoe in 1811. Today, many historians consider the episode to be a brutal ethnic massacre. But in 1840, the Whigs dredged up that 3-decade-old slaughter, portrayed it as an important military victory, and painted the long-retired Harrison as a valiant frontiersman—“the hero of Tippecanoe.” The Whigs proceeded to market the old general shamelessly, with Tippecanoe shaving soap, Tippecanoe tobacco, and the slogan “Tippecanoe and Tyler Too.” (John Tyler was Harrison’s vice-presidential running mate.)

Were there other nonentities?

As a brigadier general in the Mexican War, Franklin Pierce (the 14th president) fainted twice in combat and was severely injured when his horse threw him at the Battle of Contreras in 1847. His Whig opponents mocked him mercilessly, distributing a miniature book, an inch high and a half inch wide, titled The Military Services of General Pierce. Since Pierce was known to be inordinately fond of whisky, his opponents also derided him as the “hero of many a well-fought bottle.”

Do generals make good presidents?

On balance, there’s been no clear link between success on the battlefield and success leading the nation. Washington and Jackson were both superior generals and superior presidents. Eisenhower was undoubtedly the former, but has made few lists of great presidents. Grant was a military genius, but his scandal-ridden presidency, tainted by the agony of Reconstruction, was among our worst. Taylor, Pierce, Andrew Johnson, Rutherford B. Hayes, Chester A. Arthur, and Benjamin Harrison were all mediocrities in both war and peace. William Henry Harrison and James A. Garfield get incompletes. The hapless Harrison got soaked during his rainy inauguration, came down with pneumonia, and died just one month into his presidency. Garfield was assassinated four months into his term. Many generals who have sought the presidency, of course, never even got that far.

What did they do wrong?

They appeared too ambitious or too smug. Having turned off the electorate with their eagerness to rule, Gens. Lewis Cass, Winfield Scott, George McClellan, and Winfield Scott Hancock all went down to defeat in 1848, 1852, 1864, and 1880, respectively. Gen. Douglas MacArthur thirsted for the Republican nomination in 1952, but he couldn’t shake his reputation as a vainglorious warmonger. Gen. Alexander Haig sought to be the Republican nominee in 1988, but no one could forget that when Ronald Reagan was wounded in an assassination attempt, Haig—then secretary of state—proclaimed, “I’m in charge here.” In 1900 a worshipful public practically demanded that Adm. George Dewey, the hero of America’s occupation of the Philippines, throw his hat into the ring. But in an interview Dewey declared, “Since studying this subject, I am convinced that the office of president is not such a very difficult one to fill.” The remark ended his prospects virtually overnight.

Sherman’s march from power