Lincoln Abraham - Mr. Lincolns T-mails: the untold story of how Abraham Lincoln used the telegraph to win the Civil War

The Untold Story of How Abraham Lincoln Used the Telegraph to Win the Civil War

For Carol, Nicole, and Max

I F A YOUNG PERSON IS FORTUNATE, he or she will be blessed with great mentors. Jacob Jack Davis, George Koch, and Julian Scheer were mine. Along with my father, Chuck Wheeler, these men had a major influence on my life. So many things I now take for granted would not exist without the mentoring friendship of these men.

Jack Davis took me under his wing as a young man in Columbus, Ohio. We shared a love of politics, and Jack opened doors to help me obtain seminal political experience and then to provide counsel along the way. When the time was right Jack staked his substantial credibility on his young friend, making it possible to follow my dreams to Washington, D.C.

Jack introduced me to George Koch who took a risk and hired the young kid. Working for George was my post-graduate education, and the most important professional education of my life. From George, I learned the ways of Washington as well as the discipline necessary to accomplish a task. George taught me that doing things the way they were done previously is just an excuse for not thinking. Most important, I sat in the shadow of and, I hope, learned from Georges unbending honor.

One day George called me into his office where Julian Scheer was already present. Im hiring you to teach him everything you know he told Julian. It was an amazing stroke of good fortune for me. Imagine having as my public affairs instructor the man President Kennedy selected to help explain the space program to the American people. Julian was my first editor, starting with the basics of a press release; he taught me a new way to think about and analyze the positioning of policy issues. For 30 years, including after I moved on to my own leadership responsibilities, I always turned to Julian for his sage insight and counsel.

Jack, George, and Julian were my mentors. Carol Wheeler is my best friend. Carol is the wisest and most giving person I know. The gifts she has brought Nicole, Max, Michael Diggs, and me are limitless. Our gratitude is as boundless as our love for her. When one sets out to write a book in addition to holding a day job, it is the family that first feels the pinch. Weekends, holidays, and vacations turn into research and writing periods. Somehow, Carol made it all seem normal. Her support was always there; she believed in the idea from the outset. Carol read and commented on multiple drafts with suggestions that improved the final product. Her genuine excitement over the small successes along the way was contagious. Without Carol, not only would there have been no book, but also there would not have been so many other good things in the lives of Nicole, Max, Michael, and me.

Rick Stamberger, business partner and friend, was the sounding board as the book went through multiple conceptual iterations. John Carlin, the former Archivist of the United States, heard the idea first and encouraged its development. Rick Peuser at the National Archives started me in the right direction and provided key initial thoughts. As the introduction discusses, it was while looking at Lincolns telegrams with Governor Carlin and Rick Peuser that the term T-Mails, a term I had first seen in a letter from a stranger named Jim Walker, came to mind.

Bob Barnett took up the cause of the book and made it into reality when others had poured cold water on the concept. Marion Maneker had the faith and vision to see the possibilities and to help find both the message and how to express it. Bob Willard, president of the Abraham Lincoln Institute, helped get the facts right and to pay the appropriate homage to this American Saint. Henry Rivera, who as a former Federal Communications Commissioner and Civil War expert understood both the network and historical components of the book, provided important review and comment, along with Luis Blandon.

The first real author I ever knew, Jane Stevens provided early suggestions on how to tell the story. Michael Beschloss provided his substantial historical insight, experience, and guidance; it was Michael who made the observation about how the telegraph made the Lincoln funeral the first national funeral. Ron Nessen is to blame for the fact that I would even try to write such a book. Bob Roche, in his own quietly thoughtful way, contributed early ideas and encouragement. Rob Mesirow helped me to understand that I am a network guy and to look for my voice in that area. Stan Sigman read an early draft and in his strong yet taciturn manner encouraged me to press on. Trevor Plante of the National Archives patiently plumbed the files to find the images of many of the telegrams that are republished herein. Jane Fitzgerald and Cynthia Cox helped in the archival retrieval. Barbara Grant, my right hand for so many years, kept me organized and running on multiple tracks. Karen Needles was invaluable as a researcher, diving into records in Washington and elsewhere to find the necessary documents to tell the story. Allen Weinstein, Archivist of the United States, provided his insights as a scholar as well as his support. John Lang helped me celebrate the joy of writing. Scott Steindorf encouraged me to push forward. Verne Newton helped me learn the ways of the electronic library. Philip Eliot stepped forward as both a volunteer researcher and technical consultant for graphics. John Hollar had faith in the concept early on and helped open doors. Daniel Ornstein shared his thesis on Civil War photography. Bill Grant, my high school history teacher who rediscovered his pupil after my last book, became Mr. Grant again to review his students work.

Colonel Raleigh M. Edgar, my grandfather, was seminal to this project. Pop infected me with his love of history. He taught me to respect historys leaders and to discover and celebrate their stories. Many of the books from his library were used in the research for this book.

This book has only one name on the cover, but it belongs to all these people.

Tom Wheeler

Washington, D.C.

May, 2006

T HE EVENING NEWS VIDEO FROM the Iraq War showed a huge headquarters tent filled with soldiers and airmen sitting at computer terminals. They were sending electronic messagessome to the front lines to position troops and deliver intelligence, some to the rear to bring up the supplies necessary to keep the army advancing. My goodness, I thought, its war by e-mail!

Shortly thereafter I was standing with half a dozen other people amidst the miles of files in the vaults of the National Archives in Washington. Among the documents that Rick Peuser, an archivist of military records, was showing us was a book of glassine pages, each of which contained a handwritten telegram in the precise, forward-leaning cursive of Abraham Lincoln. As I turned the pages in awe, my vocation as a telecommunications executive and my avocation as an amateur historian collided; I was holding in my hands the physical record of the first time a national leader had ever used telecommunications as a regular part of his leadership. Remarking on the similarities between Lincolns telegrams and the e-mails so common to us all, I turned to the Archivist of the United States, John Carlin, and said, These are Mr. Lincolns T-Mails.

Abraham Lincoln was the first national leader to project himself electronically. The command and control by e-mail that the evening news showed being employed in a 21st-century war traces its roots to the 19th-century American Civil War.