Glenn Beck - Miracles and Massacres - True and Untold Stories of the Making of America

In Washington, Thomas Jefferson was triumphant. He was being heralded as the commander in chief that freed three hundred American hostages. Now he could use that success to reduce the size of the American navy and get the budget in order.

On the island of Sicily, Hamet Qaramanli was dejected, but grateful to William Eaton and his troops. As a token of his appreciation, Hamet presented Presley O’Bannon, the officer in charge of the departing Marines, with Hamet’s most prized possession: a weapon he had carried from Alexandria to Derna. Its slim blade was slightly curved. Its ornate handle was shaped like the letter J , and running the length of the sword—a scimitar, to be precise—were engraved Arabic words.

William Eaton, on the other hand, was not so grateful. In fact, he was bitter. He was willing to concede that the treaty with the Pasha was “more favorable and—separately considered—more honorable than any peace obtained by any Christian nation with a Barbary regency at any period within a hundred years.” But he raged at the opportunity that had been lost. “I firmly believe,” he later told a friend, “we would have entered Tripoli with as little trouble as we did Derna.”

EPILOGUE

Monticello; Washington, D.C.; Tripoli

June 1815

At seventy-two years old, Thomas Jefferson looked back on a life full of historic accomplishments. With the Declaration of Independence he had given his new nation its creed. With the Louisiana Purchase he had doubled its size. His ideas about religious freedom would inform the nation’s First Amendment, and his belief in small government would inspire generations of Americans to remain skeptical of centralized power.

The Barbary War was not, however, one of Jefferson’s finest moments. By allowing Pasha Qaramanli to remain on the throne, he had chosen compromise over victory. He had shown weakness, and that weakness had provoked more aggression. It was a great irony that, after a daring, five-hundred-mile march to Derna, the Pasha of Tripoli would keep his job, while many officers of the American navy would lose theirs.

In the ten years after the release of the Philadelphia prisoners, the Pasha had broken almost every term of the treaty. Tripoli and the other Barbary states had resumed their attacks on American ships. Now another U.S. president was again forced to deal with the situation.

At just five foot four and barely one hundred pounds, James Madison could appear, upon first impression, weak and frail. But his looks were deceiving. Madison built America’s first great navy. He led the United States to victory over Great Britain in the War of 1812. And he was determined to do what his country had failed to do ever since Thomas Jefferson met Abd al-Rahman in London: He would achieve peace through strength, not appeasement. Madison made it the “settled policy of America, that as peace is better than war, war is better than tribute.”

While Jefferson rested at Monticello, an armada was parked in the port of Tripoli with enough firepower to turn the city into rubble. One ship brought a personal message for the Pasha from James Madison himself. “The United States,” the president had written, “while they wish for war with no nation, will buy peace with none.”

The American captain who delivered the president’s message was Stephen Decatur, the same man who’d led the daring mission to destroy the USS Philadelphia . Decatur, at Madison’s behest, had also delivered the same ultimatum to the Barbary states of Algiers and Tunis.

After the capture of thirty-five American ships and seven hundred American hostages, the United States’ thirty-year war with the Barbary pirates was finally over. It had not ended with a bribe, or a treaty, but with a demand for peace, backed by a credible threat of overwhelming force.

Today, a scimitar modeled after the one given by Hamet to Presley O’Bannon hangs at the side of every United States Marine officer in dress uniform. The “Marines’ Hymn,” which is the oldest official song in the military, contains a reference to the war where American leathernecks first proved their incredible resilience:

To the shores of Tripoli .

5

Edison vs. Westinghouse: An Epic Struggle for Power

New York City

Spring 1885

“Fifty thousand dollars? You are mad.”

Nikola Tesla straightened his shoulders. His eyes never wavered from Thomas Edison. He responded, “You promised me fifty thousand dollars if I resolved those engineering problems.” He lifted his chin slightly. “The designs are complete.”

Edison wondered if he had made a mistake hiring this strange young Serb from Continental Edison, his subsidiary in Paris, nine months earlier. Edison had tasked him with designing an improved method of power transmission, but instead of working with direct current distribution—the technology that Edison had championed—he’d concentrated on alternating current. Tesla insisted that alternating the direction of electrical charges was better than a constant flow in a single direction because it allowed electricity to be transmitted from great distances with less power loss. Edison—both for practical and financial reasons—vehemently disagreed.

Edison rose from his chair so he was level with the standing Tesla. “You misunderstood. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have work.”

“I won’t leave without my money.”

Edison knew Tesla was odd, but he never expected to be confronted in this fashion. Tesla counted every step he took, worked only with objects and numbers divisible by three, seldom shook hands, and refused to touch another person’s hair. His fastidious attire and precise English annoyed the untidy Edison. Does Tesla really believe that being neat makes him a better man? Edison thought to himself. A better inventor?

“This is absurd, Nikola. You earn eighteen dollars a week, a generous salary. Didn’t we just deny your request for a seven-dollar-per-week raise? How could you possibly believe those designs were worth fifty thousand dollars?”

“Because you promised.”

Edison stared disapprovingly at him, a practiced look that was sufficient to dissuade most employees.

Tesla was not so easily put off. “And because I need the money for my work with alternating current.”

Edison chewed his unlit cigar. This last statement irritated him to no end. Edison had reservations about direct current technology, but he was deeply committed to it. Most of his inventions, the expertise of his companies, and his factory tooling were all aimed at direct current. Was Tesla trying to wreck everything Edison had built?

“Nikola, you have splendid ideas, but alternating current is utterly impractical. I need your mind on your assigned work.”

“Yes, and I’ve completed my assigned work. Now I’ve come for the bonus you offered me to improve the electrical distribution system.”

“To finance work on alternating current?”

“How I use the money is not your business.” The dapper, twenty-eight-year-old engineer looked down for a moment, as so many others had done when coming face-to-face with Edison. But then he quickly lifted his head back up. “Mr. Edison, with deference to your grand accomplishments, the future is alternating current. It’s the only way to transmit high-voltage energy over long distances.”

“You’re wrong Nikola. Now good night.”

“You are not going to pay me?”

“I already paid you—the eighteen dollars a week we agreed to.”

“Then you leave me no alternative but to resign.”

Edison removed the cigar from his mouth and, after a heartbeat, waved it dismissively. “Then go.”

Edison stood by the window and watched Tesla leave his office. He was sure that Tesla would reconsider the second he stepped out of his headquarters and onto Fifth Avenue. But Edison, his mind always racing, quickly realized the flaw in his thinking: Tesla was far too stubborn and fanatical; he would never be dissuaded from pursuing alternating current. Edison wondered if he should run downstairs and stop Tesla from leaving the brownstone. Perhaps, he wondered, the old adage about keeping enemies close might apply here.