I believe newspaper man Harry Croswell (above) may be best understood by a story he told about himself.
One of his victims, a large and aggressive Justice of the Peace named Hagedorn, spotted the young journalist crossing the street in the river port boom-town at the southern end of the Erie Canal: Hudson, New York.
Brandishing his whip, Hagedorn leaped from his wagon and accused the unsuspecting Croswell of slandering him in his newspaper. As a crowd quickly gathered Harry Croswell calmly responded that he did not believe that Hagedorn would “whip” him.
The offended justice exploded in a stream of profanity and then remounted his carriage and whipped his “poor horse” instead. As the angry man disappeared down the street a witness asked Harry how he could have been so certain Hagedorn would not have used the horse whip on him, to which Harry replied, “Mainly because I planned to run away.”
Harry lived in a world not so different from our own. True, he never experienced the joys of indoor plumbing, nor the miracles of modern medicine, but his America was a land bitterly divided, plagued by partisanship, confused by conspiracy theories right and left, and afflicted with a media that fanned the flames of discord in the name of profit. Of course, the American republic of Harry Croswell’s day had a valid excuse for its childish behavior; it was little more than a child itself.First, Congress had passed the Naturalization Act, of 18 June, 1798. Openly supported by outgoing President George Washington, (above), this law required anyone applying for citizenship first be a resident for at least 14 years. (At this point it had only been 22 years since the Declaration of Independence).
Then there was the Alien Friends Act, of 25 June, which authorized incoming President John Adams (above) to deport any resident alien whom he personally considered dangerous. This was followed by the Alien Enemies Act of 6 July, which allowed the President to deport any alien whose original nation was currently at war with the United States. And finally, there was the Sedition Act of 14 July, 1798. This made it a crime to publish anything “false, scandalous, and malicious” about the government or its officials. Taken together these were the Alien and Sedition Acts.
The acts were the creation of the Federalist President John Adams, and his Treasury Secretary, Alexander Hamilton (above).
And few in the country had any doubt the laws were intended to be used against the friends and allies of Vice President, and founder of the opposition Democratic-Republican Party, Thomas Jefferson (above).
To oversimplify the situation, the Federalists were in favor of a strong central government, while Jefferson’s Democratic-Republicans were in favor of strong states. The contest between the two philosophies seemed to have been decided in 1800 when Jefferson was swept into office, succeeding the one term Adams. But as soon as President Jefferson had the reins of power in his hands he began to beat the same horse President Adams had.
In fact most of this flailing was started by the Republican side, and was written by 22 year old James Callender, from Virginia. He was Jefferson’s personal attack dog, AKA, his "pen for hire", and what was called a "scandalmonger".
It was Callender who, in print, called the father of the United States and founder of the Federalist party, George Washington, a traitor. Politics in the early United States seemed to be the invective filled writings of the Republican James Callender set against the invectives of the Federalist Harry Crosswell
The “tall, and manly” Harry Crosswell, was the son of a Connecticut preacher. His tutor had been the old Federalists, Noah Webster, of the dictionary fame.
Harry began his career as an assistant editor on the Hudson, New York Federalist newspaper called the “Balance”.
But in 1802 when Democratic-Republicans in New Haven, Connecticut started an anti-Federalist attack sheet called “The Bee”...
.... Harry Callender convinced his publisher to fund a Federalist four page attack sheet in response, which he called “The Wasp”. He wrote under the pen-name of “Robert Rusticoat”, and pledged that “Wherever the Bee ranges, the Wasp will follow…the Wasp will only strive to displease, vex and torment his enemies .” And he did.
What was most amazing was that, as Thomas Jefferson took power in Washington, Harry Crosswell's really nasty attacks on him, were reprinted from the pen of James Callender, the ex-confidant of Jefferson himself.
In 1801, when Jefferson refused to name Callender Postmaster for Virginia, the only job Callender could find was as at the weekly Federalist newspaper in Richmond, Virginia, The Recorder. Once there, the bitter Callender turned on his one-time sponsor, detailing how Jefferson had fed him word for word the vile attacks upon Washington.
And it was James Callander who now revealed Jefferson’s liaisons with his slave, Sally Hemings, and their children. And Harry Crosswell reprinted every one of the salacious details in his newspaper, The Wasp.
In January of 1803, Harry Croswell was dragged before three Republican leaning judges and charged with “... being a malicious and seditious man, and of depraved mind and wicked and diabolical disposition, and also deceitfully, wickedly and maliciously devising, contriving and intending, toward Thomas Jefferson, Esquire, President of the United States of America...and to represent him… as unworthy of the confidence, respect and attachment of the people of the said United States…”
Now this was nothing new for Harry Crosswell. He was constantly being sued by his targets, such as the angry Justice of the Peace, Mr, Hagedorn. But this time the Jeffersonians were determined to bring the full weight of their political power to bear. Harry’s lawyers requested copies of the indictments; denied. They requested a delay to bring James Callender up from Virginia, to testify; denied. They requested a change of venue; denied.
Now this was nothing new for Harry Crosswell. He was constantly being sued by his targets, such as the angry Justice of the Peace, Mr, Hagedorn. But this time the Jeffersonians were determined to bring the full weight of their political power to bear. Harry’s lawyers requested copies of the indictments; denied. They requested a delay to bring James Callender up from Virginia, to testify; denied. They requested a change of venue; denied.
After six months of denials, the case was finally went to the jury, and jury instructions from the imperious Chief Justice Morgan Lewis’ (above) sealed Harry’s fate. “The law is settled. The truth of the matter published cannot be given in evidence.”
This was old English Common Law, the standard still in use in the United States, at the time. And under its rules, the jury retired at sunset, and at 8 A.M. the next morning convicted Harry Croswell. His lawyers immediately filed an appeal for a new trial, and while that was heard, at least Harry was out of jail.
That did not seem to help much because over the summer his primary witness for the defense, James Callender, scorned confidant of Thomas Jefferson, and life-long alcoholic, fell into the mud flats along the James River in Richmond, Virginia, and drowned.
Speaking for Harry's defense before the New York state Supreme Court, on 13 February, 1804, was Jefferson's nemeses, Alexander Hamilton himself. He argued that the only restraint on publishers should reside not with the government and politicians, but with the “occasional and fluctuating group of common citizens” sitting on juries. Only if a charge was untrue, and only if the writer had reason to know it was untrue, should it be considered slander; or so argued Alexander Hamilton.
Amazingly the New York State Supreme Court agreed. They overturned Harry’s conviction and ordered a new trial. They even fined Chief Justice Morgan Lewis $100, for being so biased. Clearly, the political winds had shifted. Public opinion had not taken kindly to Republican politicians arguing they should be exempt from public criticism, any more than it liked Federalists doing the same thing. The New York Legislature even re-wrote their libel and slander laws.
But, Thomas Jefferson was not willing to take "no" for an answer, and Harry Croswell was brought up on new charges. And he was convicted again. But this time the jury awarded the plaintiff exactly six cents, which wasn’t a lot of money, even in 1804.
Harry Croswell was now made senior editor of "The Balance". But the fire had also gone out of the Federalists cause, and the paper floundered financially. In 1811, having served a short term in debtor’s prison, Harry retired from politics completely. He never even voted again.
Instead, Harry Crosswell became an Episcopal Minister and eventually was assigned to the Trinity Church in New Haven, Conneticut. He preached there for 43 years. Said one of his flock, “He was not a great preacher, but he had an extraordinary knowledge of human nature, and could ingratiate himself into every man's heart.”
Thus, having applied his talents in a more productive way than politics, Harry Crosswell, died on 13 March , 1858, at 80 years old. His life could be divided in two. In the first phrase, he made history. In the second phrase, he made a real difference.
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