The most illustrious journalist no one ever heard of

USA Today (Society for the Advancement of Education), July, 1998 by William H. Rentschler

It would be easy--and unfair--to charge Raymond with expediency, but the facts do not bear out this contention. That his views often coincided with those of Weed and Seward is no convincing argument that he was a Weed-Seward toady, as historian Gideon Welles has charged. Raymond accepted their guidance more often than not, but it was the guidance of older, experienced men who thought along the same conservative lines he did. When their opinions diverged--and they often disagreed--Raymond did not spare his friends in the columns of The Times. One of Lincoln's severest critics at first, Raymond later became one of his closest confidants. Nonetheless, The Times refused to give the President blanket support, and it criticized the draft, the Cabinet, and, on occasion, the prosecution of the war.

His course during Reconstruction, with its many ramifications, was tortuous and difficult to follow--yet not necessarily inconsistent. His early support of Johnson was an extension of Raymond's sympathy with Lincoln's views. He believed sincerely, with Lincoln and Johnson, that a moderate plan of reconstruction was necessary for the preservation of the Union, which was his overriding, even sole, concern. A nation could not live divided, Raymond insisted, and this fact dominated his thought and action in war and peace.

Raymond's courageous support of Johnson lost him his party prestige, political future, and a third of The Times' circulation. He was abused by the Radicals and their press, shorn of everything but his self-respect and his newspaper. Then, after the Philadelphia Convention of 1866, he seemingly crawled back to the Union fold on his knees. Up to that time, he had adhered with a high degree of consistency to a course he thought best would ensure an amicable adjustment of post-Civil War differences, until Johnson intensified his one-man campaign to reconstruct the South as he saw fit. To achieve his ends, Johnson--and at first Raymond--embraced the Democrats. As it became increasingly apparent, though, that the Democrats were using Johnson as their stepping-stone to ascendancy, Raymond backed out. Given two choices, he preferred even the Radicals to the party that had opposed virtually every war measure.

Perhaps this was his great mistake. Radical reconstruction was a tragedy, and though Raymond could not have defied the tide forever, he need not have been the first to bolt. Probably, he should have waged a vigorous campaign for reelection to Congress. As it was, he--and his influential paper--withdrew from the fight. Even so, there is some logic in his actions. When the course of events finally convinced him the Radicals would have their way, he sought the submission of the South lest it be pulverized completely under the heel of the Radical boot. Until his death, Raymond labored unceasingly and sincerely "to bind up the nation's wounds," and thus to preserve the Union he loved. He died a patriot.

To balance the demands of the editor against those of the politician was a delicate operation. Man can seek conscientiously to follow two masters, but he never fully can succeed, for he always must slight one for the other. Raymond did better than most. Unfortunate though it may seem that he entered the political arena at all, it nonetheless is fortunate that he chose to weight the scales in favor of his journalistic career. Journalism unquestionably was his forte, and one can not help wonder how great The Times might have become even in his day had he devoted his manifold talents to it alone. One thing is certain: He never compromised the integrity of his paper for political advancement, and, in spite of his departures into politics, The Times won signal renown as the first great independent newspaper in America. In a way, each career contributed something to the other. His reputation as a prominent editor certainly added luster to his candidacies, and the nature of his political services thrust him personally and The Times into the public eye and consciousness.