“I am going to be beaten,” Abraham Lincoln said about his reelection chances in August 1864, “and unless some great change takes place, badly beaten.” The man that Abe predicted would be the next President of the United States was a West Orange resident: General George McClellan.
It’s hard to even imagine today, with Lincoln now revered as arguably our single greatest President, but in the summer of 1864, after years of grueling war with no end in sight, Lincoln was enormously unpopular—so unpopular, in fact, that members of his own party wanted to hold a new convention to pick a different nominee.
Meanwhile, the Democratic Party put forth a platform calling for the repeal of emancipation and immediate peace with the South (likely letting them secede)—something their candidate, Union General George McClellan, couldn’t agree with—which led to confusing flip-flopping during the campaign.
We may think our current political climate is ugly, but it’s nothing compared to the campaign of 1864, with Republicans accusing Democrats of outright treason, and many Democrats trying to stir up bigoted fears of interracial sex and the continued deaths of thousands of soldiers if people voted for Lincoln.
Union armies were fought to a standstill outside Petersburg, Richmond and in the Shenandoah that summer while marauding Confederate cavalry burned Chambersburg, Pennsylvania to the ground. Confederate Vice President Alexander Stephens called the prospect of George McClellan winning the election “the first real ray of light since the war began.”
Despondent, Abraham Lincoln wrote out a pledge and asked his cabinet members to sign the back of it, sight unseen. It reads: “For some days past, it seems that this administration probably will not be re-elected. Then it will be my duty to cooperate with the president-elect to save the Union. We must do this between election day and inauguration day. For he will have been elected on such ground that he cannot possibly save the Union afterwards."
History obviously took a dramatic turn between August and election day on November 8, 1864—the main sparks being Union General William Tecumseh Sherman capturing the city of Atlanta and General Philip Sheridan taking control of the Shenandoah Valley. But take a moment to reflect on how easily history could have gone another way—how unrecognizable our country and our lives might be if the General from West Orange had been elected President, and his party got their wish of ending the bloodshed by letting our country split in two, half slave and half free.
Despite New Jersey and New York City voting overwhelmingly for McClellan, the election of 1864 went for Lincoln in a landslide, by a margin of 55% to 45%. The Army, for the first time given the chance to vote (by mail!) from the battlefield, unexpectedly voted against their favorite former commander and a chance to go home, and in favor of the idea that the deaths of their fellow soldiers would not be in vain (more than 625,000 soldiers would be dead by the time the war ended) at an overwhelming rate of 76%.
We all know how the next few months played out tragically for Abraham Lincoln. But not many know what happened to McClellan, who quietly stepped out of the limelight. After hearing the election results at his home called Maywood, on the ridge where Seton Hall Prep’s new sports fields are today, he moved to Europe for a few years, but then came back home to West Orange.
He served a term as governor of New Jersey, and died unexpectedly of a heart attack at his home on October 29, 1885, 130 years ago. You can see his home site circled on this 1872 map below along Perry Lane (today called Prospect Avenue).
Ironically, General McClellan, who was twice relieved of his command for being too reluctant to put his troops in harm’s way, is today remembered for ordering the horrendously bloody piecemeal attacks at the battle of Antietam that made it the single bloodiest day in American history, leaving more than 22,700 men dead or wounded after one day's fighting.
The saddest part is that McClellan had actually caught a once-in-a-lifetime break days before, when his men happened to find Confederate “Special Order 191,” which outlined the entire Confederate orders and troop locations, wrapped around a pair of dropped cigars. "Here is a paper with which, if I cannot whip Bobby Lee, I will be willing to go home,” McClellan told a subordinate. Well, as it turned out, he moved too slowly and never did whip Bobby Lee, suffering one of the most disappointing defeats of the war, although he did at least stop Lee’s planned invasion of the North.
Now to the cache: Sadly, any remaining piece of McClellan’s house is long gone (even the ruins of the old greenhouses and the overgrown ornamental trees of McClellan’s extensive arboretum were bulldozed a few years ago to make room for the adjacent ball fields and parking lots). But the club and sports bar you’re in front of occupies the only remaining building from that era--it was the carriage house for McClellan’s neighbor, wealthy financier John Crosby Brown (partner of Brown Brothers Harriman). You’re looking for a plastic jar wrapped in black duct tape, with enough space for plenty of small trinkets inside.
Congrats to BigA800 for the FTF!