Saturday, July 11, 2026

Adams the Younger--The Son Also Rises Part I

 

Famous parents and a daunting legacy--John and Abigail Adams.  John Quincy admired and respected his distant father but bitterly resented his mother who was never satisfied with him and whose sharp tongue made it abundantly clear to him.

At the end of his long life John Quincy Adams was revered as Old Man Eloquent by opponents of slavery and reviled in equal measure as a Yankee mad man by the Southern slave-holding aristocracy.  As a boy and young man, he lived in his famous father’s shadow, an errand boy and gopher for the great man on his diplomatic postings for the infant American republic.

In between he lived an eventful life, full of public service, accomplishments, and occasional respect all the while battling what is now evident as severe depression and self-doubt.

The younger Adams was born on July 11, 1767 at the family home in Braintree (now Quincy), Massachusetts to John and Abigail Adams.  His mother came from prominent local gentry and his father was a rising lawyer with political aspirations who was soon prominent among Patriot leaders including his cousin Samuel Adams, merchant John Hancock, and fellow lawyer James Otis.

In his early childhood the boy’s father was often busy with his law practice and politics in near-by Boston or away from home for extended periods of time as a delegate to the Continental Congress.  His mother constantly reminded him of how important a man his father was.  One summer day in 1777 he learned about the Declaration of Independence, which his father had done so much to bring about, from a letter read to him by his mother.

Just a year later he packed his bags to accompany his father on a critical diplomatic mission to France where he joined Benjamin Franklin in the delicate negotiations to obtain French support for the war effort.  The boy was from the beginning more than a companion, he was something of a cross between a domestic servant to his father and eventually a secretary.  He absorbed the details of the intrigue around him, including his father’s prickly relationship with the famous and beloved Franklin and learned from the elder Adams’ sometimes curt bluster how not to conduct diplomacy.  While on this trip John Quincy began keeping the diary he would maintain for more than 40 years, giving later scholars a priceless insider account of early America and its politics.

                                
                                              John Quincy Adams age 10--his father's aide and errand boy in Europe.

In 1780 he again accompanied his father when he was made Minister to The Netherlands.  On this trip the boy’s duties were more substantial.  He also got an education, matriculating at Leiden University in 1781.  At the tender age of 14 he was considered competent enough to be loaned to another American diplomat, Francis Dana, who he served as official secretary for the mission to the Court of Catherine the Great in St. Petersburg, Russia He also traveled in the Scandinavian countries of Finland, Sweden, and Denmark.

During his years abroad he became fluent in French—the court language of much of Europe—and Dutch as well as passable in German and other languages.

When Quincy returned to the now independent United States, he was already one of the most experienced diplomats the country had despite not being out of his teens.  He enrolled, of course, at his father’s alma mater Harvard and graduated Phi Beta Kappa in 1787.  The same year his father became the first Vice President under George Washington.

From 1787 to ’89 Young Adams read law with Theophilus Parsons in Newburyport, Massachusetts then returned to Harvard to win a Master of Arts degree in 1790. He passed the Bar in 1791 and began to practice law in Boston.

Despite his notable achievements his mother constantly compared him to her husband and found him wanting.  He loved and admired his often distant father, but came to fear the dominating Abigail, who he blamed for his frequent bouts of melancholia.

Young Adams first came to public notice—and earned the esteem and admiration of the President—for penning a series of polemics in support of Washingtons refusal to be drawn into the wars swirling around the French Revolution, despite a treaty of alliance.  It was Washington, not his father, who insisted that the 26-year-old take up duties as Minister to The Netherlands.  But the young man did not want to take the job.  He feared he would never get out from under his father’s shadow if he pursued a career of public service.  His father convinced him that it was his patriotic duty to do so. 

In addition to his duties in Holland, Adams also carried papers and instructions to John Jay who was trying to negotiate a treaty with Britain clearing up many points of contention in the post-revolutionary period.  He shuttled back and forth between capitals.  When Jay concluded his controversial treaty which many considered far too favorable to the British, Adams wrote to his father urging him to support it as the best possible deal.  The elder shared it with the President who incorporated points from the letter in his Farewell Address.

Washington kept the young man in service, appointing him Minister to Portugal and then Legate to Berlin.  Washington was uncharacteristically effusive in his praise calling Adams “the most valuable of America’s officials abroad.”


                                John Quincy Adams 1797 by John Singleton Copley about to leave to become Minister to Prussia.

 

When his father became President, it again was Washington who urged him to name his son Minister to Prussia despite the inevitable charges of nepotism.  He served from 1797 to 1801, his father’s whole single term as President.  He secured a renewal of the Prussian-American Treaty of Amity and Commerce on very liberal terms.

Before returning to the United States, he married Louisa Catherine Johnson, the British-born daughter of an American merchant in London.

                           
                                    Louisa Catherine Adams, a cultured and accomplished wife.

When he returned to Massachusetts with his new wife, he secured an appointment as Commissioner of Monetary Affairs in Boston by a Federal District Judge.  But that sinecure fell victim to the deep personal animosity between two erstwhile old friends and comrades—the elder Adams and newly elected President Thomas Jefferson.  Jefferson wasted no time rescinding the nomination, a slap in the face that did not go unnoticed.

In the end, the offense propelled John Quincy to enter electoral politics as a Federalist, another footstep in his father’s path he has sworn never to undertake. He was elected a member of the Massachusetts State Senate in April 1802 and that fall ran for the United States House of Representatives and lost.  But in March of the next year the Massachusetts General Court elected him to the U.S. Senate where he quickly became a leading voice of the Federalist minority.

But it was during that period when John Quincy engaged in one of the most embarrassing acts of his career.  He penned a series of six satiric ballads in the style common to Harvard undergraduates mocking the Democratic-Republicans and Jefferson.  They were not printed but circulated hand to hand and read with great mirth at Washington taverns where the political elite gathered.  Although written anonymously, it quickly became apparent that they were written by Adams.  One of them, Dusky Sally, a famously lurid ballad about Jefferson’s dalliance with his slave Sally Hemmings was written in 1803 but published anonymously in 1807.  Jefferson was naturally furious.  Some Adams apologists dismiss the work as a schoolboy prank.  It was not.  It was a political dirty trick propagated by a highly sophisticated 40-year-old sitting U.S. Senator.

Despite his service in the Senate, Adams’s expertise in foreign policy and relations caused him to abandon other Federalists and support the President’s Louisiana Purchase and the Embargo Act.  Both of these acts were particularly loathed by Massachusetts Federalists who saw them as a plot to create permanent Southern dominance via new states carved out of the vast land acquisition and whose merchants were badly hurt by the Embargo, a measure meant to keep the U.S. out of the world war between France and Britain.  The General Court met early and stripped Adams of his Senate seat in 1708.  Adams promptly resigned the party of his father and joined his former enemies, the Democratic Republicans.

His new party did not entirely trust its convert.  Instead of seeking a new elected post or political appointment, Adams took the Boylston Professorship of Rhetoric and Oratory at Harvard.  From his lofty perch he wrote extensively promoting a neo-classical, Ciceronian ideal of disinterested public discourse based on reason and illuminated by rhetoric.  Despite his best efforts, public discourse in the U.S. was taking a vastly different direction.  Still, he would happily have remained in the academy had not duty called once again.

President James Madison called on him to take the critical diplomatic post of Minister to Russia in 1709.  His wife Louisa and their youngest son Charles Francis Adams accompanied him to the Tsarist court.  After reporting the fall of Moscow to Napoleon and his subsequent disastrous winter retreat, Adams was dispatched to Ghent to serve as to serve as chief negotiator of the U.S. commission to negotiate a treaty to end the War of 1812.  Louisa and Charles had to make a harrowing winter coach ride across war torn Europe, always in danger of being caught up in battle or attacked by roving bands of brigands and deserters to join her husband.

 
John Quincy Adams, center, at the signing of the Treaty of Ghent ending the War of 1812.

The peace commission succeeded in gaining a remarkably lenient treaty, mostly restoring the status quo ante bellum even though at the time it was negotiated, the British had dominated the war and humiliated American armies.  But the European wars had left the Mother Country bleeding, exhausted, and broke and Adams knew that they had little appetite for an extended war in North America.  America’s biggest victory, which might have justified even better terms, came after the treaty was signed when Andrew Jackson smashed and destroyed a British Army attacking New Orleans.

John Quincy Adams was thus absent from the actual conflicts of his country’s two first wars, making his personal experience vastly different than most other Americans.

After the treaty was concluded, a grateful Madison named Adams Minister to The Court of St. James, the country’s most distinguished diplomatic post.  He served in London from 1814-17.

On his return home from eight years abroad, newly elected President James Monroe named him Secretary of State, a post for which he was manifestly qualified, and which was then widely regarded as the natural steppingstone to the Presidency.  He stood at the President’s side for two terms, his most trusted advisor and master of foreign policy.

Adams racked up impressive achievement after impressive achievement while at the State Department.  First, he had to address the thorny problem of Florida, which was only tenuously held by Spain, weakened by the Napoleonic Wars on its soil and a mere shadow of a once mighty empire.  Southerners long had ambitions in Florida, and various plots and filibustering schemes were constantly afoot.  The British had agents on the ground in Florida—either actually in service to the Crown or merchant/traders functioning de facto—and seemed to have its own plans to snatch the province to hem in expansionist America to the south.  Florida, and particularly the large and powerful Seminole tribe that dominated its interior, was also a haven for escaped slaves.  Large number of Creek warriors, defeated by Andrew Jackson’s western army, also fled into the arms of the Seminole.

Monroe, undoubtedly with the approval of Adams, ordered Jackson to pursue the fugitive Creek into Florida.  The Hero of New Orleans did so with his customary enthusiasm and ruthlessness.  In the process he captured and hanged two British subjects he suspected of arming the natives, precipitating an international crisis.  Monroe’s Cabinet was unanimous in the opinion that Jackson had exceeded his orders and should be court martialed and removed from command.   Adams alone supported the General, arguing that if the Spanish could not police her territories, the United States had the right to do so in self-defense.  His argument carried the day with Monroe, who only issued a reprimand to Jackson.  But the touchy Jackson assumed that Adams was responsible for the “rebuke to my honor,” thus beginning the bad blood between the two.

Adams skillfully advanced the same arguments to injured Britain and Spain.  In the Adams–OnĂ­s Treaty Spain ceded Florida to the U.S. and the boundary between the Louisiana Territory and Spanish Tejas (Texas) was cleared up.

At the same time, Adams had to clear up several post-war issues with Britain, including the final evacuation of frontier posts still held by the British on American soil and clearly defining a western boundary.  The terms of the Treaty of Paris which had ended the Revolutionary War assumed that the Mississippi River extended north to Lake-in-The-Woods from which point a line would be drawn to the Pacific coast. The issue had come to a head in the Oregon country where the British Hudson Bay Company and John Jacob Astors American Fir Company were in fierce completion for the highly lucrative fur trade. 

Adams could build on the work of Richard Rush, temporary Secretary of State until Adams could come to Washington.  The Rush–Bagot Treaty agreed to in early 1817 demilitarized the border between the US and British North America including naval disarmament on the Great Lakes and Lake Champlain—the traditional invasion routes that had been used by both sides. The US and Britain also agreed to joint control over the Oregon Territory.  Adams successfully helped shepherd the treaty through Senate ratification in 1818 and used it as a springboard for more talks.

The Treaty of 1818, negotiated by Albert Gallatin and Richard Rush under Adams personal supervision, secured a favorable border for the United States along the 49th Parallel including a sizable chunk of Oregon and deep-water ports from which to ship the valuable furs.  Use of the Oregon Territory remained open to both nations and mutual freedom of navigation was guaranteed.  In addition, the treaty formalized the rights of Americans to their traditional fisheries in the Grand Banks offshore from Newfoundland and Labrador.  The result was the longest undefended border in the world and a permanent end to hostility between the two English-speaking powers.

However, the Hudson Bay Company continued to run roughshod over American fur traders for some time, building to a demand by expansionists to seize all of the Oregon territory and the cry of Fifty-Four-Forty or Fight! almost brought the two nations to war again until the Oregon Treaty of 1846 confirmed the 49th Parallel as the boundary and gave American complete jurisdiction of everything south of that line.


Secretary of State John Quincy Adams at the globe presents Monroe Doctrine to President James Monroe, left and the Cabinet in this historic painting by Allyn Cox in Great Experiment Hall in the U.S. Capitol.

Of course, Adam’s biggest accomplishment was enunciating what became known as the Monroe Doctrine in 1823.  This was a response to Spain’s crumbling new world empire. Several countries had declared independence.  Spain was threatening to send armies to reconquer some of what they had lost and other European powers, particularly the British, French, and Russians were making noises about moving into the void.

Many Americans wanted the U.S. to intervene actively on behalf of the newly independent Republics, some dreamed of a Pan American union.  Southern interests were looking for areas into which to expand their plantation and slave culture and carve out new states.  With an audience in Europe in mind Adams delivered a speech on Independence Day 1821 declaring that while the United States supported the new republics, it would not intervene militarily on their behalf unilaterally, declaring that America “goes not abroad in search of monsters to destroy,” but warning of European intervention.

From this nugget grew an official state paper which was presented to Congress on December 2, 1823 declaring that it is the policy of the United States that further efforts by European powers to colonize land or interfere with states in the Americas would be viewed as acts of aggression requiring U.S. intervention.  The Monroe Doctrine became the basis of American foreign policy and remains in force to this day.

Tomorrow—The Presidency and after.

Friday, July 10, 2026

Walking the Walk and Compassion for Campers Update for July 10, 2026


Look for new opportunities for action, education, community, and solidarity in and around McHenry County here every week.  

                                                            Walking the Walk 

Immigrant Justice Summer by national Indivisible.  .C.E. (Immigration and Customs Enforcement) activity has calmed down in our area for now, but we know there are plans to ramp it up again. If you want to be prepared to help our immigrant neighbors, join national Indivisible’s Immigrant Justice Summer virtual trainings. This five-part training series will give you the tools that you’ll need to respond to I.C.E. surges in a safe, immigrant-aligned way. Each training takes place virtually via Zoom. The first training is this Thursday, July 9th, beginning at 7:00 p.m. Central Time. Sign up here and please list your affiliation as being a member of Northern Illinois Indivisible:


McHenry County Disability Pride event will be held this year at McHenry County College, Building B on Saturday, July 25 from 10 am to 1 pm.  The free event aims to highlight the diversity and lived experiences within the community of people living with a wide array of disabilities, from physical and sensory to developmental and behavioral. Officially established in 2015, July is considered National Disability Pride Month.  Activities, service providers, community support and vendors.



Together We Stand McHenry County is sponsoring a Community Blood Drive on Saturday, July 26 at the Algonquin Township Building, 3702 US Rt. 14 between Crystal Lake and Cary.

Compassion for Campers



Ride/Walk/Run to Leave a Light On riders gathering to exit the Square Compassion for Campers received $2536.00 from the event.

Our distributions are usually held on the first and third Fridays of the month from 10 am to 2 pm at the new McHenry County Resource Center (MCHC) at the McHenry County Mental Health Board offices, 620 Dakota Street in Crystal Lake.   Due to the Independence Day holiday weekend, the Resource Center was closed on Friday, July 3.  Our next distributions will be on Fridays July 17 and August 3.  

With at least a temporary home base, C4C can resume accepting donations of supplies including clean used sleeping bags and tents in their bags or cases, tarps and other basic camping gear, rain gear, and especially mosquito and tick repellents and sunscreen.  Contact Sue Rekenthaler at tomatos@mc.net or Patrick Murfin at pmurfin@sbcglobal.net for more information.

Financial support is critical to fulfilling our mission. The best thing you can do is offer your critically needed financial support. Money donations are always welcome at     https://tinyurl.com/3bz96axe.   Look for updates here.  Email compassionforcampers@treeoflifeuu.org .
 

How Telestar Accidently Beamed the Cubs to Earth

 

There were a lot of firsts involved when Telstar 1 was launched on top of a Thor-Delta rocket from Cape Canaveral, Florida on July 10, 1962.

It was the first active telecommunications satellite, capable of relaying television broadcasts, bundled telephone calls, and fax images.

Echo I, launched by NASA in 1960 had been a glorified weather balloon—a Mylar inflated sphere off which microwave signals could be bounced from one Earth station to another.  Although millions of Americans, me included, spent hours watching darkened skies for the passage of the gleaming object in orbit, Echo’s usefulness as a communications device was more symbolic than real.


Echo 1 sits fully inflated at a Navy hangar in Weeksville, North Carolina.  The Mylar gasbag inflated from a satellite "egg" in orbit and simply bounced microwave signals back to earth.  It was an easily spotted by the naked eye bright object moving across dark skies.

Telstar, developed jointly by American Bell Labs, the British General Post Office, and the French National PTT (Post, Telegraph & Telecom Office) was intended to provide an active and practical link across the Atlantic Ocean for multiple communications uses. 

Telstar was also the first privately (or public/private because of the original consortium’s socialized European partners) satellite and NASA was paid for its launching facilities, rocket, and support system.

Built at Bell Labs, the satellite resembled a small ball.  It was only 34.5 inches in diameter and weighed 177 pounds—about the maximum size for the limited lift capacity of NASA’s Delta rockets.  It was covered with several innovative solar cells which generated a paltry 14 watts of power.  The solar cells were a breakthrough.  So were the transistors which replaced most of the bulky tubes for radio communications and the traveling-wave tube which helped amplify weak radio signals on their return to earth.  All in all, it was a technological marvel.

The satellite was placed in a medium altitude elliptical orbit completed once every 2 hours and 37 minutes.  That meant that Telstar could only be used to relay communications across the Atlantic for about 20 minutes out of every orbit.  Subsequent communications satellites were launched into geosynchronous orbit much higher but stationary in relationship to a point on Earth making them continuously operable.

                       
                                     A Thor/Delta rocket blasts off from Cape Canaveral with Telstar I .

There were launch jitters associated with the Delta rocket, which was less than totally reliable.  A number of launches had ended in spectacular failure.  But Telstar reached orbit successfully.

On July 11 test television images of an American Flag outside the Andover, Maine Earth Station were transmitted to a French station at Pleumeur-Bodou.

Public service was inaugurated in a highly publicized broadcast involving Eurovision on the continent, all three American television networks, and the Canadian Broadcasting Company.  Walter Cronkite, an enthusiastic booster of the space program, and NBC’s Chet Huntley anchored from New York while the BBC’s Richard Dimbleby did the honors from Brussels.


The podium was empty.  President Kennedy was not ready when the Telstar hook-up was achieved early.  Engineers scrambled and put up a Cubs game from Wrigley Field in his place.

Following live shots of the Statue of Liberty and the Eifel Tower, President John F. Kennedy was slated to make introductory remarks.  But the system acquired satellite connection early and Kennedy was not ready.  Instead, viewers were suddenly watching an in-progress game between the Philadelphia Phillies and Chicago Cubs at Wrigley Field.  Mystified Europeans only got to see one play before the broadcast continued with a segment from Washington, D.C., where Kennedy was conducting a news conference and answering a question about the value of the Dollar.  Segments from Cape Canaveral, Quebec, and Stratford, Ontario rounded out the North American portion of the program.

Later in the evening, Telstar began relaying telephone calls and fax messages.

Public excitement was high.  The satellite was featured on the covers of popular magazines, and the subject of many newspaper articles.  For a while an American news broadcast that did not show at least a snippet of news originating in Europe would not have been complete.  


The British band The Tornados guitar driven instrumental hit was an example of the cultural fascination with space technology.

The Tornadoes became first English pop group to score a Number 1 hit in the U.S. with their instrumental Telstar.  The song was also covered successfully in this country by The Ventures—the version I best remember in Cheyenne—and Bobby Vinton.

But Telstar’s glory days as the poster child of President Kennedy’s “peaceful uses of outer space” were doomed.  Just one day before the launch the U.S. tested Starfish Prime, a high-altitude nuclear bomb which energized the Van Allen Belt in which Telstar was sent into orbit.  In Cold War tit-for-tat the Soviets exploded a similar weapon in October.  The huge increase in radiation over what designers had expected overwhelmed the satellite’s transistors and it failed in December.  Engineers were able to re-start it again in January 1963, but it failed again permanently in February

It was replaced by a nearly identical Telstar 2 in May 1963.  Soon other communications satellites including two RCA Relay units and two Syncom units from the Hughes Aircraft Company were also in service.  Syncom 2 was the first geosynchronous satellite and its successor, Syncom 3, broadcasted pictures live from the 1964 Summer Olympics from Tokyo.

By the way, NASA reports that both Telstar 1 and 2 continue to orbit the Earth, just two more pieces of cold, dead space junk.

Thursday, July 9, 2026

Recalling Highland Park and the Day That the Shield Failed—Murfin Verse


Mourning in Highland Park.

Note—It has been four years since the bloody attack on a Highland Park, Illinois Independence Day parade.  The wounds are still raw, the trauma never really healed.  Here is my blog post from this date in 2022.

As I was attending a reproductive rights rally in Crystal Lake on July 4th we got word of a shooting at an Independence Day parade in Highland Park, one of the toney and leafy North Shore suburbs of Chicago.  Later during a family gathering at the Murfin Estate cell phones began to deliver grizzly details—roof-top shooter with an automatic weapon, six deadinitially—scores injured including children, a whole community traumatized.  By the ten o’clock news the suspected assailant, a troubled local   young man with death obsessions and neo-Nazi and Trumpist connections.  The news in these parts has been filled with gory and tragic details, identification of victims, revelations of the perpetrators troubled life, and vigil after vigil.

Once again tragedy has moved me to commit poetry.  Over the last twenty years I have written too many verses to count about gun violence and mass murder—enough to fill at least a slim volume or occupy a whole evening of readings.  I have evidently become the poet laureate of carnage, grief, and rage.  Yet here I am at it again.

But perhaps I have grown cynical and callous.  Re-reading the verse below a few hours after writing made it seem so.  But it actually reflected the conflicted emotions I was feeling.  Especially after learning that an unarmed young Black man in Akron, Ohio was shot by police 60 times running away from a traffic stop while the murderous creep in Illinois was taken into custody without harm after a brief pursuit.

I may have been too harsh in my judgement.  Despite its wealth and overwhelmingly White population, the eventual seven dead included four Jews, two elderly Latino men visiting the city for the parade, one Latina and her Irish-American husband.  The bad boy terrorist could not have picked better targets for a neo-Nazi, despite apparently spraying the crowd at random.  But maybe the hometown scion knew his community well enough to figure out the likely victims.


Mostly Jewish and Latinx, the Highland Park victims perhaps not so random.

At any rate, here is the latest Murfin verse.

The Day the Shield Failed

July 4, 2022 

It turned out, after all,

            that the protection

of wealth and White privilege

was not a Star Trek shield—

            phasers, torpedoes

            and ordinary bullets

            did not bounce off

            harmlessly

                        on a day of

                        gay celebration

                        of a founding mythos

                        and the very idea

                        of benevolent blessings

                        and invulnerability.

 

But there was plenty of harm

            done that day

            wrecked not by an alien

            but a defective member

            of their own privileged class

                        blithely handed his weapon

                        fit for any military carnage.

 

The next day they wandered stunned

            amid abandoned chairs,

            strollers, and heat spoiling treats

                        “not here,       

                             not us,

                                 not now,

                                      not them

                                          them

                                                them.”

 

Pardon nice people

            let me introduce you—

                        chickens, roost,          

                                    roost, chickens.

 

—Patrick Murfin