It was unexpected, bold, and shattered tradition.
When Teddy Roosevelt left Washington and traveled to Panama in November 1906, it was the first time a sitting president had ventured outside the United States. It heralded a new age in how chief executives could orchestrate foreign affairs with other nations.
The journey was more than a diplomatic mission. It was also an opportunity for Roosevelt to quell concerns that some Americans had about the construction of the Panama Canal.
As early as the 16th century, European explorers had dreams about a water passageway through Central America. In 1869, with the expansion of the American West, President Grant called for a canal between the Pacific and the Atlantic.
Ten years later it was attempted.
The French initiated the project; it was headed by the builder of the Suez Canal. During the next decade, the endeavor was hampered by torrential rains, miles of impassable jungles, and disease. When the effort failed, only 11 miles had been completed at a cost of millions of dollars and the deaths of more than 20,000 workers.
The Spanish American War in 1898 highlighted the need for a shortcut between the two oceans. Without a canal, U.S. battleships had to navigate 8,000 miles around the tip of South America.
When Theodore Roosevelt assumed the presidency in 1901, after William McKinley’s assassination, the venture took on a new life. The United States bought the rights to France’s original plan; but the government of Columbia, where the isthmus of Panama was located, vetoed America’s overture to build the waterway.
Columbia’s stance did not deter the ambitious Roosevelt. He conspired with Panamanian business interests to contrive a bloodless revolution — the Republic of Panama was formed. A treaty was signed with the new country. For $10 million ($26 billion in today’s money) the United States secured permission to build a canal in a wide zone of land that the Americans would control in perpetuity.
The United States’ initial undertaking in 1904 met with no greater success than the French had years earlier. A newly appointed chief engineer recognized that to prevail it was essential that the laborer’s living conditions be improved before any construction could be restarted.
William Gorgas, an Army doctor, oversaw the massive sanitary efforts to reduce the number of deaths caused by disease-carrying mosquitoes. He was effectual and work began anew at a massive scale never previously witnessed.
By 1906, to spotlight the progress and boost the morale of the workers, Roosevelt was in his words, “going down to see how the ditch is getting along.”
While some questioned him for breaking the precedent for a commander in chief to not travel outside the country while in office, others were more concerned about his trip to a disease-infested region. Roosevelt’s response, according to an article published by the White House Historical Association, was: “it’s safe as a health resort.”
Roosevelt and his wife embarked aboard the largest battleship in the fleet, USS Louisiana, for their voyage to Panama and a brief stopover in Puerto Rico. The flotilla also included two cruisers. The admiral’s cabin had been revamped to include “sported wicker chairs, brass beds and oriental rugs” to accommodate the first couple during their excursion.
They arrived during the worst wet season in years.
At one point, it poured 3 inches of rain in just two hours, but it did not dampen Roosevelt’s enthusiasm. He splashed through the water-soaked mire by foot and on horseback, determined to examine the most primitive work sites. He frequently departed from his official entourage to randomly interview workers and to observe the conditions in which they lived.
Decked out in a mud-spattered white tropical suit and straw hat, one author noted that “Roosevelt cultivated the image of a commander visiting his troops at the front.” All his antics were eagerly captured by photographers for the American public; the pictures caught his flamboyant persona for the history books.
Roosevelt thrived on the display of affection that the Panamanian people and leaders had for him.
Panama City had been cleaned, and flags were flown on his arrival — there was a holiday atmosphere. Outside the urban area enthusiastic crowds were present everywhere. On one occasion, he and the first lady ate with canal laborers in their mess hall instead of attending an opulent luncheon at a luxury hotel held in their honor. They were joyfully received by the workers.
By the last day, according to Edmund Morris in his book “Theodore Rex,” Roosevelt was “exalted in everything he had seen and heard.” His delight in the achievements of the engineers and workers was evident in the illustrated bound book that he presented to Congress describing his trip. This type of manuscript was an historic first; it told the world what Roosevelt had done.
Eight years after Roosevelt’s sojourn on Aug. 15, 1914, the canal opened.
It was an affirmation of America’s coming of age in the world. But the event hardly received any attention because newspapers relegated the story to the back pages. German forces marching across Europe had seized the headlines from one of the greatest engineering projects in history.
Roosevelt’s 17-day trip had long-term foreign policy ramifications. The unwavering custom of sitting chief executives avoiding travel outside the country was broken. Thereafter, personal international presidential diplomacy would be used by every subsequent commander in chief.
Epilogue: On Dec. 31, 1999, in an agreement negotiated by President Jimmy Carter, the United States handed over to Panama the control of the canal and the 10-mile-wide swath of land across the isthmus containing the waterway. This abrogated the “in perpetuity” treaty obtained by Teddy Roosevelt nearly a century earlier.
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