Arthur Garretson's Elevated Railway

To my fellow Bourbon Democrats and interested Mugwumps,

I write this letter from a charming Queen Anne inn located in Sioux City, Iowa. As I glance out a second-story bay window, I confess to you that I am looking at the future of intra-city public transit: an elevated railway. Local businessman Mr. Arthur Garretson led the charge on this wondrous achievement, which had but one antecedent on Earth. These steam-powered elevated trains may even be converted to electricity by the end of the year, thus creating the world's first electric "El." Would that Chicago had such a system!

This rail system is, to me, the very essence of who we are as an American people. We settle land that others balk at traversing. Where other nations see intractable problems, we see inventive solutions. This optimistic spirit infused itself into the Revolution of our great-grandfathers. I see this spirit roaming ever more freely across this continent with each passing year.

Consider the pioneer response to the Grasshopper Plagues of the 1870s. As you will recall, swarms of Rocky Mountain locusts descended on the frontier. The pests decimated crops on hundreds of thousands of acres. After years of defeat, some folks naturally packed up and moved back East. 

But a small group of those who remained studied the invaders. Their findings revealed the mechanical, gear-based inner workings of the grasshopper. This discovery led directly to the 'Grasshopper Devil,' the famed rusting instrument which brought the pests to the negotiating table. They no longer bother our crops, and we do not disturb their moon temple. Innovation! Progress! Peace!

In a matter of days, we will be at our party's convention in Chicago. While there, I might share a word with the city fathers about this "El" business. I challenge you to share a novel idea with members of your community. Our next great achievement may have already appeared in your mind!

An inventive century beckons to us. We are nearly upon it! Will you help build up American greatness? Will you fashion the 'Grasshopper Devil' of Tomorrow? Will you dare to dream when fainter men falter?

Sincerely,
Grover Cleveland

Bury the Hatchet and Oscillator

To my fellow Bourbon Democrats and interested Mugwumps,

I write to you from the Badlands of South Dakota. Two years ago, soldiers from the 7th Cavalry Regiment, armed with aether oscillators, corralled a group of Lakota right here on their own Pine Ridge Reservation. In attempting to disarm the Natives of their few hatchets, a melee erupted, leaving scores of Indians and white men dead. Most of the Lakota deceased were women, children, and unarmed men.

In the wake of this disaster, an impassioned debate arose about how best to settle the West. Had President Harrison admitted too many Western states too quickly? Should Congress outlaw the production and use of aether weaponry? The only thing sensible people could agree on was their utter disgust with our treatment of the Natives.

Yet here in South Dakota, some have had the gall to suggest that white men have not yet visited enough atrocities on the Indians in our care. Consider these alarming words from the Aberdeen Saturday Pioneer, penned just weeks after the massacre by war-mongering editor Mr. L. Frank Baum: "The Pioneer has before declared that our only safety depends on the total extermination of the Indians. Having wronged them for centuries, we had better, in order to protect our civilization, follow it up by one more wrong and wipe these untamed and untamable creatures from the earth."

Wipe the Indians from the earth? Balderdash! I've heard more sensible ideas from the inhabitants of the Flying Monkey Pavilion at the Philadelphia Zoological Garden! Perhaps we ought to lock Mr. Baum up with the avian apes for a season, to see if they can bring him up to their level.

We are entrusted with the guardianship of the Indians, as much as of our own children. And as with children, we are to raise them rightly and correct them gently, that they might smoothly join civilized society. Let us therefore bury the ways of war at Wounded Knee. May the hatchets be turned into shovels, and the oscillators beaten into plowshares!

Sincerely,
Grover Cleveland

The Dirtiest Soap in the West

To my fellow Bourbon Democrats and interested Mugwumps,

This afternoon, our campaign pedaled out of Denver on our way to the Badlands. It was a brief stop, but long enough to smell the stench of corruption still hovering over the town. In my long political career, I have never seen such underworld intimidation. While there are good, honest citizens in this capital city, a great many of these upstanding Coloradans fear for their lives and livelihoods in the shadow of corrupt city bosses. 

J.R. "Soapy" Smith has now been driven out of the city, but his fetid presence still lingers. For years, Soapy and his notorious gang ran Denver from their wretched Tivoli Club at 17th and Market. The ostentatious little werewolf is a con artist, plain and simple, and he built his empire out of fraud. He scammed naïfs who'd never seen a creature of the night before; he amassed wealth and influence; he bribed police officers, politicians, and otherwise-legitimate businessmen. Even his charitable efforts boiled my blood, once I considered the unconscionable methods by which he acquired his means. He is a Republican on paper, but a scoundrel in reality. He gives a bad name to decent, God-fearing werewolves everywhere.

Scum like Soapy threaten the very fabric of society, and I have fought hard against such city bosses throughout my career. As Mayor of Buffalo, I ruffled my share of feathers among the Republican elites who would govern the city by fiat. Upon my election as Governor of New York, I fought members of my own party to bring down Tammany Hall. My compatriots and I paid a price for standing by principle, with Boss Tweed sending his colony of bloodsuckers up to Albany. I am proud to say that we never wavered from conscience, and that good people across our land likewise stand firm every day. From Dover to Denver, we must listen to the angels of our better nature if we are to have the America our Lord desires for us. Corruption anywhere is a threat to decency everywhere.

Anytime you stand up against corruption and anti-democratic principles, whether at home or abroad, know that our administration will stand with you!

Sincerely,
Grover Cleveland

Kansas City Beautiful

To my fellow Bourbon Democrats and interested Mugwumps,

This morning, I had the good fortune to meet with the Park Board of Kansas City. Mr. George E. Kessler, a local architect, first ran for head of the Park Board two years ago. His efforts to implement a sensible city plan have been blocked at every turn by his opponents. In recent weeks, however, the tenacious Mr. Kessler was officially installed in his elected office. Three cheers for this dedicated public servant!

In his training as an architect, Mr. Kessler studied the great cities (new and old) of Colonial French Mars. His findings brought him to the conclusion that a great city is an ordered city, with thoughtfully planned parks and expansive boulevards. Upon his graduation, he journeyed to Earth and launched the City Beautiful movement in the American West.

Here at the confluence of the Rivers Kansas and Missouri, Mr. Keller's bold vision is now being realized by a group of forward-thinking city fathers. The boulevardiers of New Paris would delight at the cafés of Hyde Park! After our meeting, I was privileged to receive a review of Mr. Kessler's upcoming plans from the man himself. His designs for a red Paseo -- recreating the famed Mexican avenue with red Martian brick -- are, in a word, astonishing.

Stories of Westerners like Mr. Kessler are, sadly, all too rare in today's media climate. In recent years, the yellow press has painted the American West as a place defined by lawlessness and corruption. Scoundrels in places like Dodge City have only fueled this reputation in a region once settled by cock-eyed optimists. In an effort to combat these difficulties, the state of Kansas has now prohibited the sale of alcoholic beverages, a desperate but understandable measure.

Such Western frustrations have naturally caused some men to turn to Mr. Weaver and his Populist Party for solutions. While I have the utmost respect for Mr. Weaver's service to the Union during the War, I must caution our Western brothers against voting Populist for President. Along with President Harrison -- and even Mr. Hill in our own party -- Mr. Weaver advocates a blend of Silver and Gold as the basis for our economy. For reasons known only to Our Heavenly Father, I am the only credible candidate in this election advocating for a true Gold Standard. I urge frustrated Westerners -- and all Americans! -- to consider our candidacy.

Let not the rogues of Dodge City define the West. Instead, let us celebrate the Kesslers of this nation, immigrants from every continent and planet, coming to America for mutual benefit! May Kansas City Beautiful be a guiding light, shining like a beacon for all the prairie to see!

Sincerely,
Grover Cleveland

Constantinople on the Mississippi

To my fellow Bourbon Democrats and interested Mugwumps,

Yellow fever. Were ever two more frightful words uttered by man? This "American Plague" has ravaged our cities from New York to New Orleans for over a hundred years. Thousands have died in its jaundiced grip. Fourteen years ago, it even destroyed one of our greatest cities: Memphis, Tennessee.

As I wander the marble ruins of the former Court Square, I find myself in a stunned, nearly reverent silence. Ingenious souls like President Jackson founded this place. On these high bluffs, a great economy once boomed. And in its final hours, when more than half the city understandably fled, what courage it took to stay and defend this noble experiment.

In those horrific days, Sister Constance of St. Mary's Cathedral (Episcopal) tended the sick and dying. She walked these once-gleaming streets, though they were caked with shovelfuls of chalky disinfectant. Even as she herself succumbed to the dreaded disease, the praise of our Sovereign Lord remained ever on her lips.

Yet even now, hope blooms anew for western Tennessee. As we dined on the America II en route here, I was intrigued to learn of fantastic new innovations in the study of this dreaded disease. Dr. W.H. Thomson, a medical professor who has pedaled us since Manhattan, informed us that Dr. Carlos Finlay of Cuba has made an astonishing claim. Dr. Finlay's research suggests that bad air may not, in fact, be the carrier of this illness. He has even postulated that the pesky little mosquito may be the culprit. I sat in amazement as Dr. Thomson regaled us with possibilities for the treatment of yellow fever and even (God willing) prevention.

Should this research prove valid, then I propose that we rebuild a great and noble city on these ruins without fear of another outbreak. In honor of the devoted sister who served here until the end, I propose that we name it "Constantinople." Such a name would be a fitting legacy for one of Christ's bravest servants. The Mohammedans on the Bosphorus abandoned the name ages ago; let us soon resurrect it!

A gleaming new city astride the old Fourth Military District could indeed launch our plans for the 20th century. Imagine a new Southern metropolis, free of disease, built to the glory of God on Gold alone, by a nation that dares where others quiver!

Sincerely,
Grover Cleveland