Why Elbridge Gerry's name lives on

Now that the Supreme Court has decided to weigh in on the redistricting mess in Wisconsin, we can expect to hear a lot about "gerrymandering." Whether at the level of seats in the United States Congress or seats on the Worcester City Council, those who don't like the way election districts are being laid out are apt to cry "gerrymander" at every opportunity.

The word originated about 200 years ago ago right here in Massachusetts, when Gov. Elbridge Gerry and his Jeffersonian republican colleagues in Massachusetts devised an extraordinary state senatorial district in Essex County. It started in Salisbury, looped awkwardly around back of the county to Marblehead and Chelsea, thereby ensuring that pockets of Federalist voters would be swallowed up by the big Jeffersonian republican turnout in Marblehead, Governor Gerry's home town.

The story goes that when the Federalists got a look at a map of this monstrosity, a Federalist cartoonist added mouth, claws and wings and said that it looked like a salamander.

"No," said somebody, "it's a gerrymander," thereby conferring immortality on Governor Gerry.

Elbridge Gerry (1744-1814) deserves to be remembered for much more than one shabby political ploy. He was an early, hard-working revolutionary patriot, right up there with Sam Adams and John Adams. He was a signer of the Declaration of Independence, the Articles of Confederation, an energetic member of the Philadelphia convention that wrote the Constitution, member of the House of Representatives, a member of the U.S. peace delegation to France in 1797-98, a close friend of both John Adams and Thomas Jefferson, governor of Massachusetts in 1810-1812 and vice president of the United States, 1813-1814.

He was also a political maverick, famous for controversies. One non-admirer referred to his "turbulent obstinacy of spirit." In the Constitutional Convention of 1787, he fought hard for "republican" principles and then refused to sign the document because he thought it aimed at setting up a centralized "monarchical" regime that would eventually destroy the peoples' liberties. But, as a congressman, he strongly backed Treasury Secretary Alexander Hamilton's plan to have the federal government take over all the debts that the states had incurred during the Revolution, a plan strongly attacked by Thomas Jefferson and James Madison.

(The Jeffersonians usually called themselves republicans instead of democrats. Democracy then was a loaded term, redolent of anarchy and mob rule.)

Mr. Gerry also got plenty of brickbats in 1798 as a member of the peace commission to France. When the other two commissioners, John Marshall and Thomas Pinckney, got fed up with French demands for bribes, they sailed for home. Mr. Gerry stayed on, against instructions, and finally worked out a deal that, he claimed, prevented war between France and the United States.

He ran for governor of Massachusetts in 1809 on the Jefferson-republican ticket, and then was chosen as vice president by the Electoral College under President James Madison.

As vice president, he was a loyal lieutenant of President Madison, presiding over the Senate without much controversy. Then in November 1814, he was stricken with chest pains and died within minutes.

Elbridge Gerry was a man of conviction, an unwavering patriot and someone who deserves to be remembered by his state and nation for something more than a sleazy political gimmick.

(A note on pronunciation: Gerry was always pronounced with a hard G. Gerrymander also used to have a hard G. George Billias, who wrote a fine biography of Elbridge Gerry, maintains that the hard G pronunciation is the proper one. But the dictionaries, reflecting public usage, say that either the hard or soft G is correct. The American Heritage Dictionary even lists the soft G pronunciation first. So, despite the purists, "jerrymander" is here to stay. I wonder what old Elbridge would have thought of it.)

A letter of correction on the East Thompson train wreck

We received a letter from Robert Joseph Belletzkie, correcting and updating last week's column on the East Thompson train wreck. I misread the date of the crash, as he points out, and as for the rest it, my source was an account of the 1891 wreck that is at least a half-century old. Here's his gracious letter:

Many thanks to Mr. Southwick for his piece on November 30. While the various accounts of this wreck - some baselessly exaggerated - make it difficult to cut to the truth, let me offer in this limited space just a few of the needed corrections.

First off, the day of the wreck was December 4, 1891, not December 1. There were not four railroads in East Thompson, but one, the New York & New England. There were not "Four heavily loaded freight trains" but rather two freights and two passenger trains and the freight cars numbered about 20, not 35. The Norwich Boat Train was flagged and slowed considerably before rear-ending the Long Island & Eastern States Express. Even with all the destruction, the four engines were not total losses: all were probably salvageable but two were scrapped because of age.

Finally, the assertion that the people of East Thompson "have no idea" of the events of 1891 is not true. The Thompson Historical Society, whom I have assisted for the last several years through my TylerCityStation website, has worked tirelessly and successfully to keep its unique railroad history alive. The best information is obtainable there with their cheerful assistance.

Robert Joseph Belletzkie

Prospect, CT

Albert B. Southwick's columns appear regularly in the Telegram & Gazette.