Forgotten American History #2: Samuel P. Clemson

Mr. Clemson's short lived political career took advantage of the incongruous and mismatched period of nascent communication technologies and undeveloped zoning regulations at the turn of the 20th century. Via telegraph and wires, information could spread almost instantly, yet voting laws assumed a kind of island nature to voter districts, isolated places for democracy to unfurl like lonely coconuts from sparse palms. Mr. Clemson came into great wealth through a variety of patents and mysterious business ventures, most notably the stationary car, a product that sold very little but at exorbitant price. Always the prudent manager, he invested his money into up and coming housing markets. The result, whether intentional or not, was that he, on paper at least, held residency in 44 states. Friends don't remember him having any particular political leanings, but he ran for public office anyway, on almost every ticket simultaneously, something not yet illegal because it had previously not been within the realm of possibility. His immense surplus of private funds allowed him to dispense information across costly telegraph systems and reach a voting public of millions. It went virtually unnoticed, at least by the general public -- who had far less access to instant communication -- that he was running everywhere. He won in 27 states and went to Washington to fill as many seats. What proved his undoing, however, was his underlying ethics and sense of moral obligation to the country that had helped him succeed. Committed to representing his constituents, he soon became a noticeably conflicted man, displaying tics and skittishness. He would take the house floor multiple times per session, often contradicting and arguing with his own proposals -- passionately and vehemently. Occasional bipartisan deals were struck, but largely he fought himself tooth and nail. In order to ensure that he didn't stop his own legislation regarding federal funding for municipal projects in rural PA, Mr. Clemson reluctantly hired an assassin to take out his opponent, namely himself. Being aware of the plot, however, he countered by hiring another to take out the puppet master behind it all, himself again. Understandably, he embarked on a period of recluse-like behavior, wearing and switching disguises multiple times a day, using aliases and staying in cheap hotels. Eventually he just stopped showing up on the floor, though a murder was never reported. Some historians believe that he simply began to inhabit the many lives that he constructed to hide from his own, begetting children and families here and there across Washington, fading into roles and clothes and lies. The only bill he managed to pass in his brief stint as representative was the construction of a large fountain in an undisclosed location, written as such so as not to arouse the ire of himself for stepping on the toes of other states. This unmoored fountain is called the Clemson fountain and is still sought by Senators every year in a Congressional team-building pilgrimage across the Adirondacks.