TUTANKHAMUN TOMB UNSEALED ~ February 16, 1923

1923 – Howard Carter unseals the burial chamber of Pharaoh Tutankhamun.

Tutankhamun (1341 BC – 1323 BC) was an Egyptian pharaoh of the 18th dynasty (ruled 1333 BC – 1324 BC in the conventional chronology), during the period of Egyptian history known as the New Kingdom. His original name, Tutankhaten, means "Living Image of Aten", while Tutankhamun means "Living Image of Amun".

Often the name Tutankhamun was written Amen-tut-ankh, due to scribal custom which most often placed the divine name at the beginning of the phrase in order to honor the divine being. He is possibly also the Nibhurrereya of the Amarna letters. He was likely the 18th dynasty king 'Rathotis' who, according to Manetho, an ancient historian, had reigned for nine years — a figure which conforms with Flavius Josephus's version of Manetho's Epitome.

The 1922 discovery by Howard Carter of Tutankhamun's intact tomb received worldwide press coverage and sparked a renewed public interest in ancient Egypt, for which Tutankhamun's burial mask remains the popular face.

Tutankhamun seems to have faded from public consciousness in Ancient Egypt within a short time after his death, and he remained virtually unknown until the early twentieth century. His tomb was robbed at least twice in antiquity, but based on the items taken (including perishable oils and perfumes) and the evidence of restoration of the tomb after the intrusions, it seems clear that these robberies took place within several months at most of the initial burial. Eventually the location of the tomb was lost because it had come to be buried by stone chips from subsequent tombs, either dumped there or washed there by floods. In the years that followed, some huts for workers were built over the tomb entrance, clearly not knowing what lay beneath. When at the end of the twentieth dynasty the Valley of the Kings burials were systematically dismantled, the burial of Tutankhamun was overlooked, presumably because knowledge of it had been lost and his name may have been forgotten.

For many years, rumors of a "Curse of the Pharaohs" (probably fueled by newspapers seeking sales at the time of the discovery) persisted, emphasizing the early death of some of those who had first entered the tomb. However, a recent study of journals and death records indicates no statistical difference between the age of death of those who entered the tomb and those on the expedition who did not. Indeed, most lived past seventy.

Image & Text:wikipedia.com

A few years ago the De Young Museum in San Francisco had a Tutankhamen Exhibit. My nephew Sheridan and his wife Sylvie saw it when they were here five years ago last July. They weren't so impressed. It wasn't a very large show. I saw the same exhibit at the Franklin Institute in Philadelphia five years ago last May when I was East for the Point to Point horse race in Wilmington, Delaware. On my free Monday I had planned to go into NYC to see the Venetian show at the Met, but since it was closed on Mondays, I went to the King Tut show instead. (It turned out I was able to see the Venice & Islam Exhibit at the Doges' Palace in Venice a few months later. It couldn't have worked out better!)

I was glad to see the Tutankhamen show in Philadelphia; but it wasn't as extensive as two previous ones I had seen. The first was at the Franklin Institute in the mid 1960's when the impressive throne-like chair was featured. The second was at the old DeYoung Museum here in San Francisco thirty-three years ago. It was a far more extensive exhibit. It featured the glorious golden mask, frequently shown as the cover shot on countless books.

Amr Nabil/Associated Press
People crowd around the golden mask of King Tutankhamun at the Egyptian museum in Cairo earlier this month.

I had gone to that show twice before with incredibly bothersome crowds, before Chanticleer (then in its first year) was asked to sing at a cocktail party for then new mayor Dianne Feinstein in a tent outside the DeYoung. We sang in horrible acoustics with a single hand held mic. It was totally useless...BUT as an unanticipated consequence, the twelve of us --in white tie and tails-- had the splendid opportunity to walk through the exhibit entirely by ourselves (of course with the standard number of security guards keeping watch over the priceless objects).

I was then able to figure out why the golden mask was so deep. It wasn't like a Venetian Carnevale mask as I had thought; that is, the mask was not directly on top of Tutankhamen's face. Instead, the mummy's head was at the very back of the headdress -- at least over a foot away. I had never gotten close enough to see that when I had gone to the exhibit with the crush of crowds. With that in mind, I may bypass this time around, since it is rather expensive, and I've already seen it in Philadelphia.

By JOHN NOBLE WILFORD
Published: February 16, 2010 New York Times

King Tutankhamun, the boy pharaoh, was frail, crippled and suffered “multiple disorders” when he died at age 19 in about 1324 B.C., but scientists have now determined the most likely agents of death: a severe bout of malaria combined with a degenerative bone condition.

Scientists have now determined that the boy pharaoh most likely died of a severe bout of malaria combined with a degenerative bone condition.

The researchers said that to their knowledge “this is the oldest genetic proof of malaria in precisely dated mummies.” Several other mummies in the study also showed DNA evidence for the presence of the malaria parasite Plasmodium falciparum, perhaps not surprising in a place like the Nile Valley.

The application of advanced radiological and genetic techniques to royal Egyptian mummies marks a new step in the ever deepening reach of historical inquiry through science.

The study, reported Tuesday, turned up no evidence of foul play, as had been suspected by some historians and popular writers familiar with palace intrigues in ancient Egypt. Previous examinations of the Tut mummy had revealed a recent leg fracture, possibly from a fall. This might have contributed to a life-threatening condition in an immune system already weakened by malaria and other disorders, the researchers said.

In addition, genetic “fingerprinting” of the 11 mummies in the study established family connections over five generations of Tut’s lineage. The identities were previously certain for only three of the mummies. Now, scientists said the tests identified the ones of Tut’s father, mother and grandmother and other probable relatives.

The two-year investigation, completed last October, is described in the current issue of the Journal of the American Medical Association. The research was directed by Zahi Hawass, an Egyptologist who heads the Supreme Council of Antiquities in Cairo, and included medical scientists and anthropologists from Egypt, Germany and Italy. Carsten M. Pusch of the Institute of Human Genetics at the University of Tübingen, in Germany, was the report’s corresponding author.

In an accompanying editorial in the journal, Dr. Howard Markel of the Center for the History of Medicine at the University of Michigan, who was not involved in the study, praised the thoroughness of the new research “based on unfettered access to the actual mummies.”

Recalling the myriad postmortem claims that have surrounded the young king, Dr. Markel suggested that now “the legion of Tutankhamun admirers might be well advised to reconsider several existing theories.”

A two-part program, “King Tut Unwrapped,” will be shown on the Discovery Channel on Sunday and Monday. Dr. Hawass and others will discuss the new findings.

Though not one of the great rulers of ancient Egypt, King Tut is easily the best known in public lore. He was the son and successor of Akhenaten, the controversial reform pharaoh who ruled from about 1351 to 1334 B.C.

The British archaeologist Howard Carter’s discovery in 1922 of Tut’s opulent tomb in the Valley of the Kings was a sensation. The young king’s visage and premature death in the ninth year of his reign inspired fanciful speculation, and the golden and bejeweled artifacts from his tomb still dazzle crowds at touring museum exhibitions.

One overall impression from the new research is that the royal family’s power and wealth did not spare them from ill health and physical impairment. Several mummies revealed instances of cleft palate, clubfeet, flat feet and bone degeneration. Four of the 11 mummies, including Tut’s, contained genetic traces of malaria tropica, the most severe form of the infection.

The researchers said that several other pathologies were diagnosed in the Tut mummy, including a bone disorder known as Kohler disease II, which alone would not have caused death. But he was also afflicted with avascular bone necrosis, a condition in which diminished blood supply to the bone leads to serious weakening or destruction of tissue. The finding led to the team’s conclusion that it and malaria were the most probable causes of death.

The effects of this bone disease, notably the “definitely altered structure” of the left foot, probably explained the presence of walking canes in the Tut tomb, the researchers said.

Speculation had also centered on the fact that Tutankhamun left no heirs and the stylized reliefs and other sculptures of him and family members showed them having a somewhat feminized or androgynous appearance. This suggested certain inherited syndromes, including gynecomastia, which is the excessive development of breasts in men, usually the result of a hormonal imbalance.

The breasts of Akhenaten and Tutankhamun were not preserved. But Tut’s penis, no longer attached to the body, “is well developed,” the researchers reported.
“Most of the disease diagnoses,” the scientists concluded, “are hypotheses derived by observing and interpreting artifacts and not by evaluating the mummified remains of royal individuals apart from these artifacts.”

Dr. Markel, the medical historian, commented that use of 21st century radiological and genetic techniques in studies of human history raised ethical questions that need to be addressed.

Writing in the journal, he asked: “What will the rules be for exhuming bodies to solve vexing pathological puzzles? Are major historical figures entitled to the same privacy rules that private citizens enjoy even after death? Most pragmatically, what is actually gained from such studies? Will they change current thinking about and prevent threatening diseases such as influenza? Will they change the understanding of the past, such as the Jefferson study’s powerful elucidation of intimacy during the era of slavery and the Tutankhamun study’s window on the conduct of the royal family of Egypt?”

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My facebook friend Damian Lin from Taipei Taiwan planned last year's mid-winter holiday months before and arrived in Cairo on the second Saturday of the political unrest. Of course he had hoped to visit the pyramids, the Valley of the Kings, and the Egyptian Museum with the Tutankhamun exhibit. Instead I think he spent two days at the airport before leaving for Jordan. At least he was able to visit Petra.

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Today is also my niece Morgan's birthday. I wish her well, and a great new year! Her birthday is usually around Chinese New Year and in fact she was born in Taiwan, when my brother Sherry was in the U.S. Information Service.

CITY HALL 2004

Since our expected reserved time on Sunday was in the mid afternoon, I decided to go to St. Francis in the morning, but leave near the end of Mass and sign out from Vespers. I told everybody I had to leave early, ‘cuz I was getting married! I took a taxi to City Hall.

Dennis saw our friend, Carl N, and asked him if he wanted to be our witness. Carl was heading for another appointment. As a lawyer, he wasn’t sure that what we were planning to do was legal. He said he didn’t approve of the Mayor’s stand – but then added, that to us he extended “loving disapproval.”

The entire afternoon was cinematically magical. We waited in line to get a marriage license, then waited again for the actual ceremony. Multiple marriages were occurring simultaneously at different locations throughout City Hall. Our time came and we headed to the top of the staircase just outside the door to the Supervisors’ chambers.

A city volunteer conducted the ceremony. A tall handsome guy named Michael acted as our witness. Dennis asked him if he was going to get married. Michael replied that he didn’t even have a boyfriend – but he wanted to do his part. After the simple ceremony, and exchange of rings, we waited in line again to register our marriage. All the city employees working that weekend had volunteered their time, and this was a three-day weekend (with President’s Day holiday on Monday)!

Then Dennis and I went to his beloved cream-colored Fiat Spyder convertible. We put the top down— even with a slight drizzle— and drove several times around City Hall and honked our horn at the huge line of people still waiting. Dennis had attached coke cans and a pair of old red high heels donated by our eighty-year old upstairs neighbor, Dorothy Chursin (greatly adored by Rose and Rupert, for tossing dog biscuits from her third story window on mornings when I have the discipline to get up in time to wait for her).

At home we had an elegant dinner in the red room with champagne, pate, filet mignon, artichokes, pinot noir, and a special fruit topped cake for dessert.

Later Dennis sent our rings to be engraved with our initials and the date 02/15/2004 at Tiffany’s in New York. (I wore both rings on my right hand. They looked like a single ring. Occasionally I used them as guard rings with Dennis’ brown diamond, that is until we were robbed of some silver and jewelry when I was on vacation two years ago.)

A few days later, we decided it would be a good idea to register as Domestic Partners with the State of California. (That turned out to be very important following Dennis’ death when I was able to avoid going through probate.)

VALENTINE'S DAY

Photo:hlconcepts.biz

Dennis and I became an item after our dinner on January 17th 1986, and things were wonderful between us until I let him know that I wouldn’t be in town for Valentine’s Day. I had planned to go back to New Haven for the 125th anniversary of the Yale Glee Club. Dennis was crushed. But he soon got over it and said we’d have dinner on my return. I was planning to be back Monday night and said I’d come over, but Dennis preferred to wait until Tuesday night.

The Glee Club reunion was a lot of fun, and it was the last time I stayed with Marie Bronson at her home at 32 Marvel Road near the Yale Bowl before she moved to a retirement community in Hartford. When I returned I found six Valentines from Dennis, plus a formal invitation to dinner on Tuesday. It was on one of those partially pre-printed cards with Mr. so & so requests the pleasure of such & such, and, of course, RSVP. The next day I received three more Valentines.

Tuesday night I showed up at Dennis’ door on McAllister Street at eight o’clock, the appointed time. I think I was wearing a coat and tie. Dennis was most likely in a bow tie.

We had dinner in Dennis’ beautiful yellow bedroom with the rose pattern window seat (where Nell had given birth to her five puppies) and the handsome mahogany poster bed. (Dennis complained for years that I wouldn’t allow him to paint the front room on 23rd Street yellow – it was a subtle mauve grey— but eventually after eighteen years he got his way.)

Dennis had set up a table-round with a tablecloth to the floor. I don’t remember the entire menu, but think we started with champagne and oysters on the half shell. The main course was a poached chicken breast with a flower design on the glaze top. It was all very beautiful and cooked to perfection. Afterwards we had a mixed salad and chocolate torte with strawberries. The wine was a good California chardonnay followed by port and decaf coffee with dessert. The background music was Baroque— probably Vivaldi.

After-dinner was so convenient. After all, we were already in the bedroom. I think the three dogs had been in the room at dinner. Now Dennis put the puppies in their airline kennel.

Dennis pulled back the comforter. Immediately I burst out laughing. The flowered sheets were strewn with pink and yellow rose-petals. It was one of the most romantic evenings of my life. (Coincidentally, rose-petals stain sheets. I don’t think we ever got them completely out.)

In February 2004 I was in rehearsal for the winter play “I Never Sang for my Father” directed by Peter Divine. Mayor Gavin Newsom had only been in office a few weeks, when he announced that he would sponsor same-sex weddings at San Francisco City Hall. Reportedly this came about because a woman on his staff requested a City Hall marriage and the new Mayor determined if he allowed it for her, he’d have to open it up to the general Gay community.

The first registrations took place on February 12th and the newspapers reported that they would continue through the close of business on Friday February 13th. Dennis and I talked about the events at City Hall at dinner that Friday night, but it seemed as though we were too late even to consider registering.

I was also ambivalent -- since Dennis had pulled out of Project Jonathan and David, our planned same-sex blessing at Grace Cathedral seven years before (just before we went to Italy on the St. Dominic’s Choir concert tour -- he was angry that I had committed to the trip before consulting him, and felt that I had spent the money we would have used for a reception after the proposed blessing -- but it was a marvelous holiday in Italy with a second time together in Venice!).

Saturday was Valentine’s Day. I gave Dennis several Valentine cards at breakfast, and then headed to the Club for my rehearsal.

We had only recently acquired cell phones (after a logistical mix-up with my nephew, Sheridan, when he was in the Bay Area recording live CDs as a concession at Grateful Dead concerts—and we concluded that cell phones would be a great way to keep track of each other at large events and on vacations.)

In the middle of my rehearsal, I felt a vibration on my phone. At a break I returned Dennis’ call. He was not satisfied with the newspaper report that registration had ended the night before, and had gone down to City Hall to check it out.

On the phone, Dennis asked me if I would marry him. I answered: “Of course!!”(What else could I say?) He said to meet him at Tiffany’s.

As soon as my rehearsal ended, I headed off to Union Square and met Dennis in the ring department in the front room of Tiffany & Co. His former co-worker Benjie showed us rings. There had been a run on gold wedding bands, and there were only a few left in our size. We got matching slender gold rings (in Tiffany blue boxes, of course) and went home to change.

I showered and shaved and dressed in grey flannels and navy blazer with a blue and gold Venetian tie. Dennis was in a double-breasted navy blazer with a different color Lion of St. Mark’s tie. We took BART to Civic Center and waited in the line several blocks around City Hall. After about three or four hours, a young woman came up and told us that we would need to return tomorrow, but gave us a number. (To be continued tomorrow)

The day before we left for Venice on February 15th 2006, he gave me two Valentines. They were inscribed: “Forever, Dennis.”

In Memorium ~ RICHARD WAGNER 1883

Photo: Alfred Eisenstaedt/Time.Inc

Wilhelm Richard Wagner (22 May 1813 – 13 February 1883) was a German composer, conductor, theatre director and essayist, primarily known for his operas (or "music dramas", as they were later called). Unlike most other opera composers, Wagner wrote both the music and libretto for every one of his works.

Wagner's compositions, particularly those of his later period, are notable for contrapuntal texture, rich chromaticism, harmonies and orchestration, and elaborate use of leitmotifs: musical themes associated with particular characters, locales or plot elements. Wagner pioneered advances in musical language, such as extreme chromaticism and quickly shifting tonal centres, which greatly influenced the development of European classical music.

He transformed musical thought through his idea of Gesamtkunstwerk ("total artwork"), the synthesis of all the poetic, visual, musical and dramatic arts, epitomized by his monumental four-opera cycle Der Ring des Nibelungen (1876). To try to stage these works as he imagined them, Wagner built his own opera house, the Bayreuth Festspielhaus.

In 1871, he decided on the small town of Bayreuth as the location of his new opera house. The Wagners moved there the following year, and the foundation stone for the Bayreuth Festspielhaus ("Festival Theatre") was laid. In order to raise funds for the construction, "Wagner Societies" were formed in several cities, and Wagner himself began touring Germany conducting concerts. However, sufficient funds were raised only after King Ludwig stepped in with another large grant in 1874. Later that year, the Wagners moved into their permanent home at Bayreuth, a villa that Richard dubbed Wahnfried ("Peace/freedom from delusion/madness", in German).

The Festspielhaus finally opened in August 1876 with the premiere of the Ring cycle and has continued to be the site of the Bayreuth Festival ever since.

Following the first Bayreuth festival Wagner spent a great deal of time in Italy where he began work on Parsifal, his final opera. The composition took four years, during which he also wrote a series of increasingly reactionary essays on religion and art.

Wagner completed Parsifal in January 1882, and a second Bayreuth Festival was held for the new opera. Wagner was by this time extremely ill, having suffered through a series of increasingly severe angina attacks. During the sixteenth and final performance of Parsifal on 29 August, he secretly entered the pit during Act III, took the baton from conductor Hermann Levi, and led the performance to its conclusion.

After the Festival, the Wagner family journeyed to Venice for the winter. On 13 February 1883, Richard Wagner died of a heart attack at Ca' Vendramin Calergi, a 16th century palazzo [today the winter gambling Casino] on the Grand Canal. His body was returned to Bayreuth and buried in the garden of the Villa Wahnfried.

Franz Liszt's memorable piece for pianoforte solo, La lugubre gondola, evokes the passing of a black-shrouded funerary gondola bearing Richard Wagner's remains over the Grand Canal.

Text:wikipedia.com

I joined the Northern California chapter of the Wagner Society a few years ago primarily so that I might be able to go to Bayreuth some day. Otherwise, it would be totally out of reach.

ABRAHAM LINCOLN ~~ February 12, 1809 ~~ April 15, 1865

Photo:sonofthesouth.net/slavery/abraham-lincoln

With malice toward none; with charity for all;

with firmness in the right,

as God gives us to see the right,

let us strive on to finish the work we are in;

to bind up the nation's wounds;

to care for him who shall have borne the battle,

and for his widow, and his orphan--

to do all which may achieve and cherish

a just and lasting peace,

among ourselves,

and with all nations.

Lincoln's Second Inaugural Address ~ March 4, 1865

JEFFREY DAVID HARDY

Today is my friend Jeffrey David Hardy’s birthday. He’s been one of my longest lasting friends for over thirty-nine years. (I’ve had a few other long lasting friendships, but unfortunately several of those close friends have already departed this life.)

After going home for Christmas in 1975, I returned to learn that my promised re-hiring at Discount Records had been cancelled. (I had recently resigned from my job as an underwriter with the California State Automobile Association.) Columbia Records had sold the company, and was about to close one of its stores. So I was unemployed for several months. There was a severe drought that year. I ended up getting a great winter tan.

In the middle of January, I had dinner with someone I had met in Harrisburg. I think he worked for the State of PA, but forget his name. He was in San Francisco on a short holiday. He lived in Harrisburg. His partner worked in Philadelphia.

On my way back to BART, a young man dropped his change at Powell and Market. I picked it up to give back to him. He then offered me a ride home in his car. That’s how I met Jeffrey Hardy on January 17, 1976— the date of his parents’ wedding anniversary –though with the international dateline, the day after his parents’ in Brisbane, Queensland Australia.

I took Jeffrey out to dinner on February 9th, the night before his 21st birthday. I gave him a vintage leather bound edition of poetry by John Keats.

As an encore for my senior recital at Yale, I had done my record store vocal impressions routine ending as the nun in “Climb Ev’ry Mountain.” Years later I sang it on the street for Jeffrey, the night before his 21st Birthday. He liked it so much, that when Randy Wong and I visited him in London in the early 80’s, he asked me to sing it after lunch for Rachel Kempson (Vanessa Redgrave’s mother) and Noel Coward’s former secretary, whose name I’m sorry to say I don’t recall. [I originally wrote this on 26 May 2003, the 30th anniversary of my arrival in San Francisco. That morning's New York Times reported that Rachel Kempson had died on Saturday. I sent an email with a copy of the obituary to Jeffrey in Australia. He later responded that he had heard by phone, but thanked me for sending him his first newspaper account.]

Returning to 1976: Jeffrey was in the New Shakespeare Company, which rehearsed in a side chapel at Trinity Episcopal Church on Gough Street. The director was a real witch, named Roma. She had been an inmate in a concentration camp during the war, and evidently had identified with her captors, according to Jeffrey.

In March I finally got a job in the display department at W. & J. Sloane. After the frustrations at CSAA, I liked the discrete projects – with deadlines, and concrete results. (Little did I realize then, that my eventual major career at Customs would have similar frustrations.)

A few months after the founding of Chanticleer, Dad came to visit me in October 1978, before going to a recovery conference in Seattle. Dad met Gary Murakami, who had been apprehensive about meeting him, particularly in light of Dad’s new career, running an alcohol recovery program. But they liked each other immediately, and enjoyed the lunch and dinner we shared.

The night before I left for my first trip to England—and Dad, to Seattle— he and I had dinner at the Adriatic, a fish restaurant on Polk Street, (where Dennis and I first had dinner in 1980, before going to see –of all things— the movie “Airplane” or “Ordinary People” –our first casual nights out together).

The next morning, Dad and I took BART (Bay Area Rapid Transit) to Powell Street with our luggage and walked to the old Airporter Bus Terminal, the site of the main lobby of the Hilton today. It seems strange we didn’t take a taxi; but that’s what I remember doing. This was even before SuperShuttle.

In England I visited my friend Jeffrey Hardy, who then was an actor at the Redgrave Repertory Theatre in Farnham, Surrey. I saw him in a performance of Tom Stoppard’s play “Jumpers.” I recall that I stayed with him at the home of a Miss Titmarsh, and used Farnham as my base for going around England. I went as far north as Edinburgh, and had lovely days in York, Cambridge (to hear the choirs at Kings College and St. Johns) Oxford, and London, of course, for St. Paul’s, Temple Church and Westminster Abbey— the National Gallery, Tate, British Museum and the V & A. I took a boat trip to Greenwich, and enjoyed a beautiful Sunday at Canterbury Cathedral.

Jeffrey is a direct descendant of Captain Hardy in whose arms Lord Horatio Nelson died after the Battle of Trafalgar. (I wrote about that in my post on 10/21/08.)

Jeffrey lived in London for many years. Dennis and I visited him twice and stayed at his home near Clapham Common. Later Jeffrey returned to Australia, went to law school and became a solicitor in the maritime section for the Queensland government.

Jeffrey and I have several things in common: we're both the youngest of four children-- with two sisters and one brother-- and our mothers were partially deaf.

Jeffrey now lives in New York City. He won a green card lottery a few years ago. Jeffrey passed the New York State Bar exam and just recently became a U.S. citizen. I attended his wedding to the beautiful and talented Shana Farr a year ago last June in New York. And a few months ago they welcomed their son, Austin.

Best wishes to a dear friend on his birthday!

John Quincy Adams Elected President by the U.S. House of Representatives ~ February 9, 1825

After no presidential candidate received a majority of electoral votes, the United States House of Representatives elected John Quincy Adams President of the United States on February 9, 1825.

John Quincy Adams (July 11, 1767 – February 23, 1848) was the sixth President of the United States from March 4, 1825 to March 4, 1829. He was also an American diplomat and served in both the Senate and House of Representatives. He was a member of the Federalist, Democratic-Republican, National Republican, and later Anti-Masonic and Whig parties.

Adams was the son of the second President John Adams and his wife Abigail Adams, the name "Quincy" having come from Abigail's maternal grandfather, Colonel John Quincy, after whom Quincy, Massachusetts is also named. As a diplomat, he was involved in many international negotiations, and helped formulate the Monroe Doctrine as Secretary of State. As president he proposed a program of modernization and educational advancement, but was stymied by Congress. Adams lost his 1828 bid for re-election to Andrew Jackson.

Adams was elected a U.S. Representative from Massachusetts after leaving office, the only president ever to do so, serving for the last 17 years of his life. In the House he became a leading opponent of the Slave Power and argued that if a civil war ever broke out the president could abolish slavery by using his war powers, which Abraham Lincoln partially did during the American Civil War in the 1863 Emancipation Proclamation.

Image & text:wikipedia.com