James Monroe had enjoyed his eight years in the White House and, while well liked without perhaps the reverence citizens had exhibited for George Washington and Thomas Jefferson, his administration had expanded the nation’s footprint with Florida and its international role with the Monroe Doctrine. His strong sense of nationalism was appropriate for a time when the republic was evolving and growing, and his devotion to the precedents of the past fueled his decision to only serve two terms. After all, he had run unopposed in 1820, and there were those who encouraged him to “stay the course,” but Washington’s words made that decision for him.

He and his wife would retire to Oak Hill, their home in Loudoun County, Virginia, and return to family interests and the life of country farmers — on a larger scale. Unfortunately, the Monroes were deeply in debt because James had worked his entire life in service to the nation, which meant that he had never earned a large salary and had often been forced to supplement his income from personal funds. Additionally, the federal government was extremely slow in paying his thousands of dollars due for past service, so the Monroes struggled for years. Only toward the end of his life would the funds be paid, allowing Monroe to pay his debts and secure a small inheritance for his children.

In truth, James and Elizabeth Monroe were probably grateful to leave Washington, DC, because the election of 1824 was unpleasant at best and deemed horrible by many observers. What a story to be told…

Since the demise of the Federalist Party, the Democratic-Republican Party had controlled presidential elections and the earlier step of nomination, most often through a caucus system. By 1824, the caucus system was falling apart, and only a fourth of congressional delegates participated — with an unusual result. They nominated William Crawford, a Georgian currently serving as secretary of the treasury, who had recently suffered a stroke and was seen as “too ill” to serve.

Four other candidates appeared as viable candidate: General Andrew Jackson, hero of the Battle of New Orleans and a popular Tennessean; John Quincy Adams, secretary of state, veteran public servant, and son of the former president; Henry Clay, speaker of the House and a “western candidate” from Kentucky; and John C. Calhoun, who eventually opted out and offered to run as vice president for the nominee. That’s an illustrious field of candidates, right? The stage was set for a BIG FIGHT!

Why?

The majority of the electors were chosen by the voters instead of being tapped by state legislators, and the process became less controlled. Campaigning then was much different since the individual candidates deemed it inappropriate to “brag” on themselves and “attack” the opposition, so they remained aloof from the process and allowed their supporters to mount the campaign. When Jackson won the popular vote with roughly 150,000 votes and Adams garnered about 108,000 votes, with Clay and Crawford left behind in the dust, the election seemed settled. Or so it appeared.

Then the Electoral College count began. Jackson had 99 votes to Adams’s 84 votes, and suddenly Crawford and Clay were alive, with 41 and 37 electoral votes each. WHAT? What about the popular vote? Strategic alliances came into play and it was a new game.

The election was thrown into the House of Representatives, where the top three would be considered, per the dictates of the 12th Amendment. Clay was out, but as speaker of the House, he was certainly not without power. Since each state would cast only one vote and Crawford’s illness effectively eliminated his election, the race was between Jackson and Adams.

Jackson argued that he had won the popular vote and the highest number of electoral votes. Good argument, right? But he did not have the majority of the electoral votes; now the states would vote by delegation, and each was not obligated constitutionally to vote as its citizens had voted. Sound familiar? It’s happened several times in our country’s history.

Adams campaigned personally and went to the members of Congress — Jackson did not. Adams even met privately with Clay without anyone else present. When the vote was taken, Adams won 13 states to Jackson’s seven and Crawford’s four. Kentucky’s delegation, which had been told by the state legislature to vote for Jackson, had that decision reversed by the speaker of the House and they voted for Adams. Immediately following the election, Henry Clay was appointed secretary of state, and Jackson screamed about a “corrupt bargain” that had been made.

It was going to be a rough four years for John Quincy. Jackson was not going away, and he wasn’t known as “Old Hickory” for nothing. Adams would spend his presidency looking over his shoulder — with good reason.

It’s getting interesting.