Authors: Denise Kiernan

Signing Their Rights Away (6 page)

III. Connecticut

The Signer Who Lived the Longest

BORN
: October 7, 1727

DIED
: November 14, 1819

AGE AT SIGNING
: 55

PROFESSION
: Lawyer

BURIED
: Christ Episcopal Church Cemetery, Stratford, Connecticut

When William Samuel Johnson arrived in Philadelphia in June 1787, people expected big things. At age fifty-nine, this eminent lawyer with dark, smoldering eyes was one of the elder statesmen of the convention; he had earned two diplomas from Yale as well as honorary degrees from Harvard and Oxford. His reputation as an intellectual heavyweight preceded him, and everyone addressed him deferentially as “Dr. Johnson.” And yet, he remained surprisingly quiet while the framers hammered out the Constitution, contributing not as much as his fellow Connecticut delegates. Why was he so silent? As his story shows, Johnson was nothing if not cautious.

He was the son of a prosperous, educated clergyman from Stratford, Connecticut, who instilled a deep love of learning in his
“Sammy.” Despite his father wanting him to become a preacher, the boy pursued law instead. He ended up becoming a prosperous attorney in Connecticut, at a time when many lawyers found it hard to earn a living. He married a wealthy young woman named Ann Beach, whose dowry enlarged his fortune considerably. (He would later tell one of his sons that “marrying well” was “the most easy and agreeable method” of getting ahead.)

Johnson was drawn into politics in 1765 during the Stamp Act controversy, when Americans objected to the levying of an unpopular new tax on all paper products. Everyone seemed to be losing their heads except Johnson, who wisely covered his bases. He spoke out against the tax … and then applied to be one of the tax collectors! He was a clearheaded, moderate thinker: just because he considered the taxes unwise didn’t mean they wouldn’t have to be collected. Johnson’s neighbors must have respected his judgment. Rather than string him up, in October 1765 they sent him to the Stamp Act Congress in New York, where he and men from nine colonies tried to develop a coherent response to Parliament’s action.

Johnson was rewarded for his middle-of-the-road stance with an invitation to represent Connecticut in London in 1766. This position was a lofty one; every colony had an “agent” in the great city of the Empire. (Ben Franklin was Pennsylvania’s agent at the same time.) These agents did not vote, but they were responsible for presenting the views of the colonists to lawmakers. Over time, Johnson came to respect British politics and the stability offered by their system. He returned home in 1774 with big career plans, but the American Revolution dashed them all to pieces.

During the war, Johnson tried to do the impossible: he wanted to remain completely neutral. He had friends who were patriots, he had friends in Parliament—so why should he have to pick sides? Some historians estimate that 15 to 20 percent of the white male colonists were loyalists; 40 to 45 percent were patriots. That means the remainder of colonists—a figure as high as 35 to 45 percent—were neutral,
seriously conflicted, or in need of convincing. Johnson may have been on the fence, but he sure wasn’t lonely up there.

Johnson’s experiences during the war shed light on the difficult position of Loyalists and neutrals during the eight-year conflict. He declined invitations to attend the Continental Congress and refused to lead men in his colony’s militia, even though he held the rank of colonel. Instead, he worked for peace, and he was twice arrested by patriots after trying to negotiate between the two sides. He finally quit the Connecticut Legislature, because he felt they had embarked on a treasonous course of action. Barred from practicing law, he and his family were forced to live off savings. But once the war was over, Johnson returned to favor among his neighbors. Towns still needed lawyers and thinkers, after all, and he was one of the best.

Johnson was reticent about attending the Constitutional Convention, but his delegation was active and he never missed a meeting. He lent his support to the Great Compromise and addressed the convention about the wisdom of this decision. He also chaired the Committee of Style and Arrangement, which finalized the language of the document.

When it came time to ratify the Constitution in Connecticut, Johnson was a persuasive salesperson. He insisted that the United States as everyone knew it would cease to be without this powerful new Constitution. “Our commerce is annihilated,” he told one group of Connecticut residents. “Our national honor, once in so high esteem is no more. We have got to the very brink of ruin; we must turn back and adopt a new system.” He admitted that the document was far from perfect, but he added, at last, “If we reject a plan of government, which with such favorable circumstances is offered for acceptance, I fear our national existence must come to a final end.”

It was rare for this cautious old lawyer to utter such a strong opinion, and perhaps legislators in Connecticut knew that Johnson meant business. Regardless, his state became the fifth to ratify the Constitution, and afterward Johnson served as one of Connecticut’s first two senators. He was, at age sixty-one, the oldest man in
Congress. He stayed only a few years and then resigned to throw himself into his lifelong passion, nurturing the small college in New York that would one day become Columbia University.

It was a long, lustrous life, and he even remarried at age seventy-four, a few years after the death of his first wife. When he finally died, in 1819, Johnson was ninety-two years old, the oldest of any signer of the Constitution.