The Bullet That Shattered a Shoulder and Saved a Presidency
A curious historical note in the Daily Intelligencer reveals that President James A. Garfield’s fatal wound was not from a duel, but a tragic accident during a Civil War skirmish—while his predecessor Hayes suffered a broken leg from a fall.
The story, cleaned up
A cleaned-up reading of the newspaper page: spelling and layout repaired, one story lifted off a crowded page. It follows the original closely but it is not a transcription. The original page is below; read it if a detail matters.
PRESIDENTS.
In an article entitled "Have we had good Presidents?" the writer has developed the fact that President Garfield was really wounded in the shoulder at the battle of Troy. President Jackson, however, in his personal—do not forget it—was shot in the head in a duel with a man in 1832. He was shot in the breast at breakfast time, and received a serious injury from the effects of which he suffered for the remainder of his life. It was Dickerson's bullet which killed Andrew Jackson.
Of our other military Presidents Washington, although frequently exposed to great peril, notably at the battle of Monongahela and Braddock's defeat, where his uniform was studded with bullets, and several horses were killed under him, escaped without wounds.
Harrison was never hit. At Tippecanoe he seemed to bear a charmed life, for he was known to the Indians, and many of their best marksmen sought in vain to kill him. Colonel Owen of his staff, who happened to be mounted on a horse belonging to the general, was killed under him that he was the general himself.
Taylor was struck by a ball on the buckle of his sword-belt in the battle of Okeechobee, during the Florida war. It weakened him at the stomach for a moment but did no further harm.
Pierce, who was a brigadier in the Mexican war, was seriously injured by the falling of his horse, on the day preceding the battle of Contreras, that he fainted upon the field at the beginning of that action, and was compelled to relinquish his command. The circumstance gave rise to much ungenerous satire in the election campaign of 1852.
We remember that some Democratic editor, in describing that battle, spoke of it as a 'sharp conflict.' The writer of the Louisville admitted the fact as Pierce fainted at the hint of Grant was never wounded. He had his horse killed under him at Belmont.
This snippet highlights how 19th-century political discourse often conflated military valor with executive fitness, using war wounds as badges of honor or, conversely, signs of weakness. While modern presidents are rarely veterans of active combat, the scrutiny of their physical health and personal history remains a potent tool in political attacks.
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