In his office at the White House, the President stared down at the reports on his desk, seeing them, but not reading or absorbing a single word.
In his mind, he was reliving every lost opportunity, every missed chance to bring the war to a swift conclusion. Gettysburg. Meade had Lee on the run, and stayed put because the roads were muddy. Unbelievable. Grant had performed well giving us Vicksburg, but now what? Should really see about giving that man a bigger command somewhere. And in the meantime, the fighting goes on.
The President looked up at the clock. Two in the afternoon. He'd spent most of the morning at the telegraph office. Almost time to walk over there again, get the afternoon reports. He mumbled something under his breath about getting enough exercise.
The only other man in the room glanced up at the sound.
"Yes, Mr. President?"
"Nothing, Seward. Nothing at all," the president replied to his Secretary of State.
"Does not the war go as you would like it? We have enjoyed excellent success this summer."
"I would like it over. As it goes on at all, then no, it is not to my liking." He sighed, heavily. "No, not to my liking at all. And our funds are low, our morale is lower. Those rebels, for all the trouble they're causing, they have the conviction of their beliefs. They're broke, but as long as they believe, they keep fighting. You need either conviction or money to win a war. And we are quickly running out of both."
Seward thought about this for a moment. "You could free the slaves, again. Everyone really seemed to enjoy that. Gave the country a good boost."
"I don't find your humor very appropriate."
Seward chuckled. "You never do."
Seward stood and walked over to a map of United States tacked to one wall. The map was covered in pins, reflecting relative positions of the nearly countless armies in the field. As he walked, he stuffed his smoking pipe with tobacco and lit it casually. "We already have the income tax; that's helped. I supposed we could raise it again, but I doubt that would be very popular. Do you wish to be re-elected next year?"
"The only thing I fear more than re-election is the prospect of someone else being elected. No, if I must be in this office to prosecute this war, this is where I will stay."
Seward nodded. "So, no income tax. So, either we need to find another way to generate money, or we need to unite all the country in a common cause, perhaps based on some mythical aspect of our nation's heritage. Remind them of the hardships our forefathers endured, and the beliefs that they clung to when little else remained. That sort of thing."
The president thought for a long time, the silence broken only by the ticking of the clock and Seward's gentle puffing on his pipe. It had the feeling of one of the defining moments of history; one of the moments that changes the course of a nation forever.
Finally, he said, "I like the money idea better."
Seward grinned. "Excellent. Then, this is what we need to do. Christmas is coming."
"Do you suggest we pray?"
"Just the opposite. We start encouraging the people to buy more Christmas presents to give to each other, especially the children."
"Won't that just encourage greed?"
"No, sir, it most certainly will do much, much more than JUST encourage greed. It will encourage generations of greed, selfishness, avarice, covetousness. And spending. Much, much spending. We will encourage the merchants to extend lines of credit, so people can spend more than they have. Banks will finance low-interest loans to pay back the merchants, and then raise those interest rates. And we'll throw in enough excise taxes to bring in revenue by the wagon-load! But..."
He trailed off. The President looked expectant. "But...what? It sounds like a marvelous idea."
"But, it will work better if we focus our attention on just the few weeks before Christmas. Just enough time to spend lots of money, but not long enough to regret the purchases and learn from their mistakes. We should start it...I'd say the last Friday in November. You should declare a holiday."
The President nodded. "Yes, of course! And I shall call it, Thanks-taking! To encourage people to take those presents they are being given, with thanks."
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Seward blew a smoke ring in the shape of a dollar sign. "You're a capable leader, Mr. President, but not very shrewd. We can't declare a holiday just to make people buy stuff. The holiday must be the day BEFORE. And the next day, the shopping day, we'll tell all the stores to open early, so people can start shopping sooner. And every year, they will open a little sooner, and a little sooner, until the holiday itself disappears. By that time, we shouldn't need the holiday anymore."
"Excellent," the President shouted. "Write something up, some declaration, or proclamation, or presidential thingamajig. Call it Thanks--something. Work on it. And throw in some claptrap about Indians or Pilgrims or something. Make it work!"
Seward nodded. He had a piece of paper in his hand now, and was scribbling furiously:
New holiday, last Thursday of November. Thanks-getting, or something similar. Throw in crap about Pilgrims. Try to work in a parade, and maybe some football.
And the rest is history.
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