AP® U.S. History—Semester A

Sample Lesson - Introduction

Lesson 3.09: Oh President, My President

TFW someone says, "Oh, he can't smile in his portrait, his teeth are wooden."
(Source)

Things that are hard:

• Being President.
• Being a war hero.
• Being universally admired.

Here's a Venn Diagram of those things:

All this to say: the guy was popular, beloved, and a really great leader. Kind of a perfect first president, we think.

As it turns out, we weren't the only ones who thought so: pretty much everyone involved in politics in the late 18th century agreed. In fact, most of the ratifying states thought so too, and voted for the Constitution in part due to one key assumption: George Washington was the president America needed, and he would be the president America would get.

Only one man wasn't on board, and that was (you guessed it) George Washington.

Ultimately, Washington was convinced, and took elected office. As expected, the guy excelled, setting major precedents for office that have gone almost entirely unchanged in the years since. Ever wondered whether two terms of office was an official rule? It wasn't, until the 20th century—we just followed Washington's example. Ever wondered who made up the job "Postmaster General"? It was George. 

Ever wondered what John Adams did as the country's second President, after his VP track with Washington? Yeah, us either, but you'll get to find out anyway.

Washington had a remarkable run, but it wasn't without problems. He faced the nation's first internal dispute after Alexander Hamilton decided to levy a tax on American-made liquors. It didn't go over well (surprise, surprise), but Washington managed it. He also faced the nation's first international crisis, and managed to pass a treaty that—though unpopular—didn't totally implode the nation.

This early on, we'd take that as a win. You've gotta crawl before you can walk, fellow Americans.

Sample Lesson - Reading

Reading 3.3.09a: Presidency Under Construction

Poor George Washington had tried to retire about three times before the Presidency was even invented, and nobody would let him. Hey: when you've got an American hero who's still alive and kickin', you probably want him around as you create a new nation.

The Presidential "election" process in 1788, then, essentially became a campaign by others to get Washington to agree to run. Alexander Hamilton, the Marquis de Lafayette, and Gouverneur Morris were some of the most vehement voices. Once Washington made feints towards accepting such a nomination, the question became who his vice president should be. Many men were suggested, but John Adams was eventually chosen with Washington's consent.

The election itself was held on February 4, 1789, when each state's presidential "electors" met in their state capitols to cast two votes, which had to be for different candidates. The person with the most electoral votes would take the presidency, while the person with the second-most would take the vice presidency.

As expected, George Washington was the clear winner, with 69 electoral votes, and John Adams finished second with 34. With a great deal of angst and foot-scuffing, Washington took office on April 30, 1789 (it took a long time to get places in 1789, so things, a la horse-pulled wagons, moved slowly).

Being the President is always a crazy proposition, whether you're George Washington in 1789, Barack Obama in 2008, or William Henry Harrison in 1841 (remember him? He's our shortest serving president—only 30 days in office). Washington's role, though, had a uniquely heavy weight on it: he was basically laying the foundation for the role of American president. What he did would become what everyone else did.

Thank goodness Washington didn't get into office and immediately go, "Presidents are only allowed to own fish, and all sandwiches must be served without mustard." Then no one would want the office.

What's in Your Cabinet?

As the first guy to hold the office of President of the United States, pretty much everything Washington did set a precedent for the position. Luckily for future Presidents, Washington understood that well, and was thoughtful in developing the executive role.

He was an exceptional delegator, and ensured that all decisions went through rounds of approval and review. When the politicians began to bat about ideas for how to address the president—"His Excellency"? "His Highness, the Protector of Our Liberties"? "Model of a Modern Major General"?—Washington recommended the more democratic "Mr. President." He also created the tradition of the State of the Union Address given directly to Congress.

Washington also set precedents for how a president (try saying that five times fast) should conduct himself in social situations. The Confederation Congress had been besieged by visitors and complaints on a daily basis, meaning it was harder for them to get work done (where was their Joan Holloway?). Washington decided to set aside his mornings for work, and opened up his afternoons for meetings with visitors, and evenings for dinner parties and social events.

Interestingly enough, Washington also set a precedent for presidential vacations. Here at Shmoop, we understand the importance of a good time out, unplug, and de-stress. It seems Washington did too: he frequently traveled back to his home in Mount Vernon to farm and relax (because apparently those two things are not mutually exclusive).

All those nice social life and vacation precedents paled in comparison to some of Washington's most important achievements as President Numero Uno. After taking office, Washington found himself at the tippy-top of a three-branch system which was still so IKEA-level new, that one stray gust of wind or missing screw might cause the whole thing to collapse. Washington's first move, then, was to try and stabilize the system. He needed more backup in the executive department, and that meant appointing some new leaders.

According to Article II, Section Two of the Constitution, the president may "require the opinion in writing of the principal officer in each of the executive departments upon any subject relating to the duties of their respective offices." (Source) The existing executive offices in 1789 were limited to the President, the Vice President, the Speaker of the House, and the President of the Senate.

Weirdly enough, considering that two of the primary reasons the Constitution replaced the Articles of Confederation were finances and foreign policy, there was no one in charge of finances or foreign policy. Washington wasn't gonna have that in his office. He appointed Thomas Jefferson, recently returned from Paris, to head the Department of Foreign Affairs (now the State Department), and Alexander Hamilton to head the Treasury Department. He also established the roles of Secretary of War (Henry Knox), Postmaster General (Samuel Osgood), and Attorney General (John Jay).

Washington's New Cabinet of Cool Guys (unofficial title) became official on September 11, 1789, though they didn't meet as a group until 1793 (at which point John Jay has been replaced by Edmund Randolph). It was a testy group, primarily thanks to the conflicts between Jefferson and Hamilton, which we'll discuss in more detail in the next unit.

The establishment of the cabinet—not necessarily the guys in it—was the most important part of Washington's presidential precedent-setting. There was no constitutional requirement for a president to have a lasting stable of advisors, but Washington understood that humans have limitations.

We wouldn't send a lesson to you without consulting our genius Shmoopy editors and colleagues and developers to help us make it the best it can be. Nor should a president make major decisions about finances, or foreign policy, or war, Washington argued, without consulting key advisors on these matters.

Plus, Washington didn't just pick his friends or guys who bribed him to take on these key advisory roles. Nope: he made nominations, but required that the Senate and the House approve them before they were put into office. In doing so, Washington expanded the executive office to make it even more democratic. Instead of being a figurehead balanced at the top of a complicated three-branched system, the President would now be stabilized by his advisors, who were vetted and approved by the other branches.

We still have the cabinet system today, even though it wasn't an official official system. Today, though, since the nation has expanded significantly, we've expanded from Washington's five cabinet roles to a total of 15. And who knows—maybe the 16th will be Secretary of Alien Affairs.

Or maybe it already is…

Obviously, Washington was an incredibly effective president, and we are really, really lucky he was as chill as the founders said he was. He created an executive office that is more than a figurehead but less than a dictator: a remarkable bit of alchemy that the Constitution didn't explicitly lay out or guarantee. It kinda makes sense that after two terms, everyone was pretty dang eager for him to stay.

Thomas Jefferson and Alexander Hamilton didn't agree on anything, except one thing: if George Washington left the office of president, the nation would fall apart. Washington, however, was confident that the nation would indeed survive—if Americans could remember the lessons learned in the past 50 years.

As such, Washington's Farewell Address (which we'll examine in more detail in the activity) was perhaps his greatest legacy.

Sample Lesson - Reading

Reading 3.3.09b: You've Got to Have a Problem or Two, Boys

As well-vetted and highly respected as Washington's cabinet was, we don't mean to imply that he didn't make mistakes. When push came to shove, Washington had chosen his advisors because he trusted their decision-making. We're not gonna argue with Washington's judgment, but—big sigh—there were some issues.

In January 1791, mere months after being appointed and well before the first cabinet meeting in 1793, Alexander Hamilton, Secretary of the Treasury, made a bold move. The government needed more money, so Hamilton levied an excise tax on distilled liquors made in the United States. Excise taxes are paid when a certain good is purchased, so in this case, the purchase of American liquors, namely whiskey, would be accompanied by a small tax. Congress approved the tax, and it went into effect.

Little did Congress know what that one itty-bitty tax would wreak in Western Pennsylvania. In 1791, Western Pennsylvania was still the frontier, and despite having representation in Congress as Pennsylvanians, they felt like their needs, as Western farmers, were being overlooked in favor of the needs of Eastern elites from Philadelphia.

It also felt like a personal attack, since so many of these farmers relied on crops like corn and rye to make money. Because transportation from Western Pennsylvania to the East was lengthy and expensive, many farmers distilled their corn, rye, and grain into liquors to ease transportation. Poor farmers were suddenly trapped between the danger of losing their most profitable goods on the dangerous roads from West to East, or paying a tax that might bankrupt them entirely.

The Whiskey Rebellion began in earnest with boycotts and peaceful protests among Western farmers. President Washington hoped the situation could be remedied in a non-violent way, and issued a proclamation in 1792 denouncing the Westerners' resistance to the tax. Unfortunately, the proclamation fell on deaf ears. By 1794, the protests had turned violent, with rebels torching the homes of tax collectors and other politicians.

Washington only had one option: organizing a militia force to try and quell the riots. Luckily for him, the tactic worked: by the time the 12,950 militia men reached Western Pennsylvania, the riots had ceased and most of the rebels had dispersed. While some men were arrested for treason, there was little evidence and Washington pardoned most of them.

It was the very first test of federal authority in the face of domestic rebellion, and frankly, it went pretty well. At least, as well as rebellions and challenges to federal governments can go.

When it came to the first test of federal authority in the face of foreign rebellion, things would go down a little differently. The French Revolution—which the United States would refuse to participate in, despite promises made during the American Revolutionary War—had expanded into the rest of Europe by 1791.

The monarchy was certain that expanding the war would defeat the French revolutionaries and ensure a return to a monarchical system. The French revolutionaries were all fired up by their rhetoric, and were eager to spread their ideas to all of Europe. All of Europe, though, wasn't so sure about this. Unfortunately, they didn't have much of a choice: in the spring of 1792, France declared war on Prussia and Austria; in the fall of 1792, the French monarchy fell; and in 1793, France's new Republic declared war on Britain.

In the United States, neutrality had never looked so good. For Britain, though, the United States posed a significant threat. America's longtime alliance with France, which ended with the Treaty of Paris, might encourage the United States to break her neutrality in favor of France. That couldn't happen.

So, in 1794, the British Royal Navy seized American ships in the West Indies. This went over about as badly as you might think it would. The reactions among the United States politicians were all over the map: Jefferson wanted to declare war against Britain, Madison urged a trade embargo, and Hamilton sought to normalize the trade relationship between Britain and America. Whose side would Washington choose?

He chose Hamilton's. In November 1794, Washington sent John Jay, the Chief Justice of the Supreme Court, to Britain with the Jay Treaty. Its primary tenets were that Britain would compensate the United States for its interference in West Indies and provide favored nation status to American traders in exchange for Americans, offering Britain some trade advantages in the United States and paying off some Revolutionary War debts.

King George III (yep, no term limits on a monarchy) accepted these terms. When Jay returned to the United States, though, things were a bit more testy. The treaty wasn't popular: many believed that it would cripple the diversity of American trade, and were furious about having to pay old war debts. Others figured that was just the price to pay for peace with Britain.

Ultimately, the treaty was approved by Congress on August 14, 1795, after significant debate. It was the first time the new American government had needed to arbitrate an international treaty, and it wasn't exactly squeaky clean. What it did prove, though, was that the system worked: big international relations decisions could be made through a process of debate and arbitration.

And that was some dang good news.

The ABCs of the XYZ

Through all of this chaos, John Adams was the Vice President, and doing essentially nothing—which he found immensely irritating. We get it: the Vice Presidency is still a bit of a weird half-job. What the position is great for, though, is introducing the American public to politicians who might want to run for office in the future…which was exactly what Adams hoped to do.

More precedents were set with the 1796 election of John Adams, former Vice President, to the Presidency. Unlike the 1791 election of Washington, this one was gonna be ugly, with Federalists clamoring for Adams as president and the Democratic-Republicans rallying for Thomas Jefferson. Fun fact: Samuel Adams, John Adams' second cousin, ran for the presidency in 1796, too—but as a Democratic-Republican.

Ultimately, Adams won with 71 electoral votes, and Jefferson took the Vice Presidency with 68 votes (remember, the runner up becomes the Vice President at this point). Adams picked up the role in a complicated moment for foreign relations. The Jay Treaty, which, you'll recall, had created a mutually beneficial trade relationship between Britain and the United States, was considered treasonous by the French. They felt betrayed by the Americans, who had previously sided with them against the British.

In March 1797, John Adams sent three of his best diplomats—Charles Pinckney, John Marshall, and Elbridge Gerry—to France to meet with the foreign minister Charles de Talleyrand. The minister refused to meet with them, unless they'd pay a sizeable bribe and provide a loan. Obviously, the Americans refused, and sent word back to the United States.

When Adams received word of the French demands, he took immediate action. He took the memos from his diplomats and replaced the names of the French actors with the letters X, Y, and Z—hence, the XYZ Affair. Adams then sent the memos to Congress, which subsequently pushed through a series of defensive measures, including expanding the Department of War and creating a new executive department for the Navy. In July 1798, Congress even authorized the attack of French vessels in the Atlantic in a "quasi-war."

As all this was happening, American popular support for the French dropped precipitously. How dare they ask the Americans for a bribe? How dare they undermine the honor of American diplomats? John Adams may not have been particularly popular before his election (compared to Washington, everyone was a step down), but his anti-French policies in the XYZ Affair made him enormously popular among the American people.

When Adams took things to the extreme, though, when he passed the Alien and Sedition Acts in 1798. Adams and his Federalist Congress was taking a lot of heat from the Democratic-Republicans, who opposed his administration's radical anti-French policies. In order to quiet the dissent, these acts essentially made life really hard for immigrants:

• Immigrants must reside for 14 years in the United States before being eligible for citizenship (which would prevent new immigrants, who usually voted for Democratic-Republicans, from voting).
• The President has the power to deport any foreigner who he or she feels is dangerous to the United States.
• It is a crime to publish "false, scandalous, and malicious" writing against the government.

While these acts weren't Adams' brainchild, he did sign them. Many Americans were horrified by these acts, which seemed to give the President and his office way too much power. By the time the next election was up in 1800, John Adams had once again fallen in public favor.

The only good things for Adams? He was the first president to live in the White House, albeit only for a couple of months.

Hey: it's catch-as-catch-can out here. You take what you can get.

Sample Lesson - Activity

Activity 3.09: George Washington's Going Home

When George Washington announced to Alexander Hamilton that he was going to leave office after two terms, it must have been absolutely shocking. Remember: there was no rule that required a maximum of two presidential terms. Franklin Delano Roosevelt served four terms—the only president to ever break the unwritten rule—and after his death, a Constitutional Amendment ensured two terms as the upper limit.

Washington also set the precedent for the Farewell Address, something now enshrined in tradition. As Washington-of-Hamilton-fame sings in his farewell song, "One Last Time," the address was a way to:

Teach them how to say goodbye…
If I say goodbye
The nation learns to move on
It outlives me when I'm gone.

There are a lot of excellent videos of Hamilton performances, but perhaps none is quite so moving as the video of Christopher Jackson, who played George Washington, singing "One Last Time" to outgoing President Barack Obama.

Washington's actual farewell speech—written in part by James Madison and in part by Alexander Hamilton—is a beautiful one, and a remarkable final act for a man who essentially gave America its first one.

While the song from Hamilton does include excerpts of the speech, it doesn't give us the whole thing. This is Shmoop, though, so we can spare a wee bit more information here than Lin-Manuel Miranda can fit into a short song in Act II of a three-hour musical.

In this activity, you'll be reading the Farewell Address and responding to the prompts that follow. This will give you the chance to both practice analyzing primary sources (and boy, is this a dense one) and get a better understanding of how exactly Washington lay the groundwork for the Presidency.

Here we go: Washington's Farewell Address: