FRIDAY, MARCH 4 –– INAUGURATION DAY 1881

On Friday, March 4, 1881, James Abram Garfield (circled) became the twentieth U.S. president.

The night before, Garfield had stayed up late finishing his inauguration speech. (No team of speechwriters in those days.) He didn’t get to bed until after 2:30 a.m..

In the morning, Garfield awoke to sleet and snow. By the time he took his place in front of the U. S. Capitol, the sun had come out and the streets were slushy. Fifty thousand people stood before him, waiting to hear his speech.

His address lasted 35 minutes. Garfield was known for his oratory skills, and he knew how to hold a crowd’s attention. (No teleprompters in those days.) He referred to the Civil War sixteen years earlier and the lingering tensions between North and South. He said that future generations would be grateful “that the Union was preserved, that slavery was overthrown, and that both races were made equal before the law.”  He vowed to protect the voting rights of Blacks in the South.

As a former teacher and college president, Garfield was distressed by the nation’s high rate of illiteracy. He told his audience that the success of democracy depended on educated voters.

Recognizing the public’s disdain for the patronage system, he called for a law regulating civil service jobs within the government based on competence and knowledge, not political connections.

By the end of his speech, Garfield was hoarse. He had strained to make his baritone voice loud enough to be heard by the large crowd. (No microphones in those days.)

One man, Charles Guiteau, was counting on Garfield to appoint him to a government job. Guiteau believed he deserved a high-level diplomatic position because he had helped to get the new president elected. In fact, he had had no role in Garfield’s election and had absolutely no qualifications for such a position.

Rebuffed by both the White House and the State Department, Guiteau’s anger toward James Garfield grew. For weeks, he stalked Garfield as the president walked around Washington. (No Secret Service protection in those days.)  

On Saturday morning, July 2, 1881, Guiteau stepped from the shadows in a Washington railroad station and aimed a gun at James Garfield’s back.

What happened next changed history and resulted in one of America’s most tragic medical fiascoes.

Why Garfield?

Why did I choose to write about James Garfield’s assassination?  Many people have asked me this question since the October 2021 publication of AMBUSHED!: The Assassination Plot Against President Garfield, the second book in my Medical Fiascoes series from Calkins Creek.

The answer is rooted in my mother’s love of history. During my childhood, she had a subscription to American Heritage magazine. She never threw away the hardcover editions, and I inherited the collection several years ago.  I enjoy reading through the old issues.

One day I spotted an article about the 1881 Garfield assassination, published a few months after President John Kennedy’s 1963 assassination. The story intrigued me, especially the medical aspects. When I did more research, I discovered important connections between Garfield’s shooting and Civil War medicine, the subject of my first Medical Fiascoes book, BLOOD AND GERMS: The Civil War Battle Against Wounds and Disease (2020). 

James Garfield’s doctors had been Civil War surgeons. They were recognized as gunshot experts, well-qualified to treat the injury of the fallen president. But they hadn’t kept up with advances in medical thought during the sixteen years since the war’s end, namely germ theory and antiseptic practices. Their treatment of Garfield’s wound sealed his fate.

The Medical Fiascoes books have a common theme: Even the most tragic situations can bring progress. Just as the Civil War’s carnage led to changes that improved patient care in the United States, James Garfield’s well-publicized suffering helped to propel the medical community into the twentieth century.  And that has saved countless lives from the ravages of deadly infections.