After a successful campaign that did not involve much campaigning, Mexican War hero Zachary Taylor took the presidential oath of office on March 20, 1849. Citizens of both political parties were stunned when, 16 months later, Taylor became the second president to die in office in less than 10 years.

What had he accomplished during his short term? Truthfully, very little.

And that’s where the story gets interesting because his failures can be attributed to the fact that he was not a political creature. During an antebellum era when politics was considered the motivating factor for most actions, Taylor was the ultimate outsider who never forged a relationship with his own Whig Party leaders, congressional leadership, or state and local elected officials on the frontlines of the slavery issue — and he chose the most unpopular cabinet in the then history of the presidency. Spending three decades in the military was undoubtedly a much easier life choice for a man who understood the chain of command but was unequipped for Washington, DC’s, hidden agendas.

So, back to the original question: Did his presidency make a difference?

Foreign policy had been a critical focus for the young nation since its founding, and the late 1840s — immediately following a war with Mexico and the settlement of the Oregon territory question via a compromise with Great Britain — brought several other questions to the forefront. Unfortunately (or fortunately, if you ignore the question of legacy), none of the issues involved the metaphorical clashing of thunder and lightning that fire up the presses or garner chapters in history books.

His administration did skillfully negotiate a compromise with Great Britain that furthered the United States’s plan to build a canal across Nicaragua. The Brits had opposed its construction, fearing it might challenge their sovereignty in Honduras, but the signed Clayton-Bulwer Treaty had implications far beyond the canal. While the agreement was “international” in its language, the subtle but significant result was that the United States became the dominant decider in the Western Hemisphere — a second chapter to the Monroe Doctrine. But the second and equally important result was a new alliance between the two countries that saw them united in subsequent foreign policy actions including the Great War and World War II. That alliance remains solid today, 170 years later.

On domestic issues, the president who had avoided discussions regarding slavery during the campaign took a firm stand against its expansion. He reached out to the California and New Mexico territorial governments and encouraged each to complete the steps toward statehood, including writing constitutions. Taylor expected that both would exclude slavery, and he was correct. He urged that Congress admit the applicants quickly and without debate.

That was not going to happen.

With the possibility of a congressional imbalance and possible secession by decidedly fearful and angry Southern states, a team emerged that would propose a compromise. Henry Clay, the Great Compromiser, aided by Daniel Webster, John C. Calhoun, and William H. Seward, drafted a document balancing the most significant issues held by North and South. Passed after Taylor’s death with him firmly on the record opposing both Clay (not surprising) and the compromise, the resulting Compromise of 1850 averted a civil war for 10 years.

Zachery Taylor’s name will not appear on any historian’s list of outstanding presidents, but his military leadership guaranteed he would be remembered. He died in July 1850 from “cholera morbus” following a memorable final statement to his wife — “I have always done my duty. I am ready to die. My only regret is for the friends I leave behind.” The funeral would have made Taylor proud. With more than 100,000 mourners in attendance, his funeral procession included Washington dignitaries, his military comrades, his beloved horse, family, and citizens. Today, his body rests in Louisville, Kentucky, at the Zachary Taylor National Cemetery.

NOTE: Thank you, my history-loving friends, for allowing me a month-long absence from my column. From July 10 to August 11, I crossed off several items on my bucket list: London and Churchill’s War Room; scores of military memorials and historic sites; all five Normandy beaches and the American cemeteries; the Battle of the Bulge’s most notable locations including prominent small “resistance” towns, churches, and battlefields; and so much more in France, the Netherlands, Belgium, Luxembourg, and Germany.

Today, more than ever, I understand the debt I owe to a generation of Patriot heroes and realize that the only possible way to begin to pay that debt is to live a life worthy of their sacrifice, keep the stories alive for future generations, and fight to preserve this republic, founded on the principles of liberty, equality, and justice.