mouthpiece. James Madison may be credited as the father of the Constitution, but Wilson is often recognized as the number-two man. Not only was he one of the top speakers at the convention (with an impressive 168 recorded remarks), he put forth an idea that is the cornerstone of American government: namely, that a system of checks and balances was required to ensure that the power invested in leaders cannot beabused. Wilson famously showed the delegates a picture of a pyramid. In order for the federal government to be truly powerful, he explained, it must, like a pyramid, have the broadest possible base. In other words, it must have the support of the American people. Again, he argued that judges would act as a check on the legislature by striking down unconstitutional laws. He defended the idea of having one person as the chief executive when delegates insisted that such a practice would lead to the creation of a virtual monarchy. And he insisted that the president should be elected by the American people and not the legislature, as some had suggested. Only then would citizens feel invested in their government.
True to his big-state roots, Wilson supported the idea of proportional representation in Congress. He proposed that senators be elected to nine-year terms. At the time, everyone assumed that the Senate would draw the wealthiest, most educated Americans. Two-year terms were fine for the rabble in the House; but senators needed to serve for a substantial time. The delegates finally settled on six-year Senate terms, rotating so that one-third of the Senate would leave each year; that way, the assembly would always have fresh blood. Wilson served on the committee that wrote the Constitution and may himself have contributed substantial chunks of the text. He signed the document a few days after his forty-fifth birthday, returning home to convince Pennsylvanians to ratify the document.
Wilson expected to be selected as the first chief justice of the Supreme Court—but those hopes were soon dashed. Washington did choose him as the court’s first justice, but he was tapped to be an associate, not chief justice (that honor went to John Jay). Around the same time, Wilson became the first law professor at the future University of Pennsylvania.
All might have ended well if Wilson hadn’t made a number of ill-advised business decisions. Chief among them was buying land tracts in western New York, Pennsylvania, and Georgia—all on borrowed money. If he had lived in the twenty-first-century, Wilsonwould have been at the head of the housing-bubble pack, gobbling up more land than he could afford. It’s estimated he held one million acres in his portfolio, not to mention factories, ships, and ironworks. He and his investors, among them signer Robert Morris, had a scheme to import immigrants to settle the land, thereby earning a handsome profit. While on the high court, he was hounded by critics and almost impeached because he promoted laws written to help—who else?—land speculators.
How could someone so smart be so clueless? When the money stopped flowing, Wilson owed hundreds of thousands of dollars that he couldn’t repay. Creditors hounded him to the point that he confided to a friend he was being “hunted like a wild beast.” He became a liability on the high court because he couldn’t travel to certain states to hear cases—he risked being arrested by local sheriffs. But that didn’t stop him from going on the lam. While still serving on the nation’s highest court, he was arrested and served time in debtors’ prisons in New Jersey and North Carolina. His confinement was embarrassing for him, his second wife, Hannah Gray, his children, President John Adams, and the United States as a whole. He is not so much a forgotten founding father as one that many prefer to forget.
In 1798, probably after his release from one of those prisons, an on-the-run Wilson hid in a decrepit North Carolina tavern, where he was
True to his big-state roots, Wilson supported the idea of proportional representation in Congress. He proposed that senators be elected to nine-year terms. At the time, everyone assumed that the Senate would draw the wealthiest, most educated Americans. Two-year terms were fine for the rabble in the House; but senators needed to serve for a substantial time. The delegates finally settled on six-year Senate terms, rotating so that one-third of the Senate would leave each year; that way, the assembly would always have fresh blood. Wilson served on the committee that wrote the Constitution and may himself have contributed substantial chunks of the text. He signed the document a few days after his forty-fifth birthday, returning home to convince Pennsylvanians to ratify the document.
Wilson expected to be selected as the first chief justice of the Supreme Court—but those hopes were soon dashed. Washington did choose him as the court’s first justice, but he was tapped to be an associate, not chief justice (that honor went to John Jay). Around the same time, Wilson became the first law professor at the future University of Pennsylvania.
All might have ended well if Wilson hadn’t made a number of ill-advised business decisions. Chief among them was buying land tracts in western New York, Pennsylvania, and Georgia—all on borrowed money. If he had lived in the twenty-first-century, Wilsonwould have been at the head of the housing-bubble pack, gobbling up more land than he could afford. It’s estimated he held one million acres in his portfolio, not to mention factories, ships, and ironworks. He and his investors, among them signer Robert Morris, had a scheme to import immigrants to settle the land, thereby earning a handsome profit. While on the high court, he was hounded by critics and almost impeached because he promoted laws written to help—who else?—land speculators.
How could someone so smart be so clueless? When the money stopped flowing, Wilson owed hundreds of thousands of dollars that he couldn’t repay. Creditors hounded him to the point that he confided to a friend he was being “hunted like a wild beast.” He became a liability on the high court because he couldn’t travel to certain states to hear cases—he risked being arrested by local sheriffs. But that didn’t stop him from going on the lam. While still serving on the nation’s highest court, he was arrested and served time in debtors’ prisons in New Jersey and North Carolina. His confinement was embarrassing for him, his second wife, Hannah Gray, his children, President John Adams, and the United States as a whole. He is not so much a forgotten founding father as one that many prefer to forget.
In 1798, probably after his release from one of those prisons, an on-the-run Wilson hid in a decrepit North Carolina tavern, where he was
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