The Rehabilitation and Rememberence of Ulysses. S Grant
(John S Kountz Pov)
It was a long time coming in your bones. Years of work, and still the stalling of the New York City Government that was clearly dragging their feet. This should have been simple. The Mausoleum was already designed, the city had already dedicated funds for it, and the Grand Army of the Republic had already met the fundraising goals for every single option when the city tried to sell the plot for his tomb.
Yet here he sat, frustrated, as he read a tiestrey that came from a "Reputable" Southern Scholar.
Supported and funded by the Daughters of the Confederacy, a group of women folk who devoted their lives to telling the stories of their husbands and fathers and brothers and dispelling the false notion that the South's War was in fact an ignoble war of madness, fighting a tyranny that was the United States. That trampled upon their rights, as states, and as citizens, who felt they had no other cause, then secession.
They used the writings and poetry and even now…the growing academia of the South's new intellectual class to create a noble and just "Lost Cause." Even in the North, some historians, flawed by living in the aftermath of such a great conflict, fell to the romanticism of it all.
It was a truly grave insult. A slap in the face to the Veterans of the Union and the Colored soldiers they fought and died with. They called Grant a Butcher and disrespected his very character.
Called him a drunkard, a fool, and unrefined fool a president who failed at every turn, to the glory of the southern gentlemen. A man in the end, who did not heal his country, as Lincoln hoped, and Johnson had failed.
They called his friend Sherman a monster for doing what needed to be done…As if Lee and his cadre would have done the same if they were given the chance.
"Mr. Roosevelt. Thank you for coming to meet me at this short notice." You said as the young man smiled as he shook your hand. "I take it much as well?"
"I'm surprised you asked for me, instead of the Tammany Hall boys that are still trying to stop you." He said as he looked at the water glasses. "May I?"
"Of course." You paused and let the man. "The Rattlesnakes in congress giving you grief?"
"As always." He said. "Why am I here John, the Grand Army of the Republic isn't an organization that is… happy right now, and there is nothing I can do for you?"
"Actually there is." You said as you pointed to the map, and Grant's Tomb. "I need your help convincing the mayor to finally allow Ground to Be Broken. I want his body interred in a monument fitting of a man of his character."
"John, I'm preoccupied with my work, and I can't say that I have too many friends here in New York, not like I used to. The city isn't going to allow his tomb to be built not with the federal and city funds being withheld? And we all know that Fundraising won't be enough to cut it. you don't have the money."
"I know…but at the very least I can ask you to try…to speak of the man's greater virtues and beliefs to remind them that he was not the folly of a man spoken of in these…"True Southern" History books that paint a story and not the truth!" You banged your hand on the table and spat into the spittoon. "Use the Pulpit to bash these lies into the DIRT where they belong!"
"I'm not in the business of Making Enemies. Not unnecessarily that is." He replied.
"Perhaps." You paused. "All I ask is that you try. Speak on Grant's behalf because he no longer can."
"Can you?"
Roosevelt stood up, and shook his head. For one moment he sighed. "I'll see what I can do."
"That's all anyone can do." You replied.
AN: Grant will be the Hero of the Republic, and not be scorned by the fucking Daughters of the Confederacy!
@Physici I want, if possible, Grant's tomb to be brought to the forefront of New York Politics, and built so that he can be the hero that the Republic needs in death, a second Washington.
Or in failing that, Have Roosevelt Bash the confederates and their ilk a little bit with his Pulpit, and linguistic skills. Grant deserves to be remembered, not Lee.
