In life, the things we don’t do can have just as sizable an impact as the things we do, and the choices that we make—even the tiny ones we never think twice about—can help seal our destiny.
This is the Forgotten History of the Declined Drink.
A. Mitchell Palmer was a man of contradictions. A deeply religious Quaker, he declined an appointment as Secretary of War because it conflicted with his pacifist beliefs, yet he fought those he considered enemies of the United States with the precision and force of a five-star general.
And in his eyes, there were no greater enemies as the Great War ended than communists, anarchists, and their allies. They were the enemy within—hiding in America’s shadows and biding their time, just waiting for the perfect time to strike.
He would round them up everywhere he found them, and as Attorney General, he promised President Woodrow Wilson, he would use every power he had, every weapon in his arsenal to destroy them. Palmer’s ferociousness earned him the admiration of Wilson’s closest advisors and the adulation of the public, but because he was, as Wilson’s private secretary called him, “young, militant, progressive, and fearless,” the President’s political opponents in the Senate would be unlikely to confirm him.
Still, with the Red Scare at its height and anarchist activity was growing more open and ominous, Wilson needed a man like Palmer to fight it and he pushed his nomination through in a recess appointment in March, 2019. The war on communist terrorism had its general, but just a month later, the enemy struck.
36 mail bombs, each one addressed to a prominent leader in American government or business, went out simultaneously. One injured the wife and housekeeper of Georgia Senator Thomas Hardwick. Another was intercepted before it could injure the mayor of Seattle. Another was addressed to John D. Rockefeller.
And another went to A. Mitchell Palmer. He wasn’t hurt but more motivated than ever to rid the nation of this terrorist enemy that had now proven just how dangerous it could be. Mitchell gave speeches, galvanizing the public against the anarchist movement, and dedicated more Justice Department resources to rooting out its members.
But Mitchell was a man of contradictions, and as hard as he worked, he liked to party just as hard. In early June, he attended a soiree and found himself a bit too inebriated to drive himself home. Everyone who was everyone in Washington was there, but he scanned the room for someone who lived nearby and could give him a ride home.
He spotted his young neighbor, an up-and-comer in politics who served as Undersecretary of the Navy. The two were friendly and Mitchell asked him for a ride. The Undersecretary cheerfully accepted, especially since one of the most powerful men in the city owing him a favor might be beneficial to his budding career.
The two had always exchanged pleasantries in the neighborhood but never really talked at length before. On the car ride home, though, they hit it off immediately. They talked about anything and everything, even staying parked in Mitchell’s driveway for a long time just chatting about politics, Washington, and life in general.
It was late, but Mitchell invited his neighbor inside for a drink in his library to continue the conversation. No, the young undersecretary, answered. He needed to get up early for a long day tomorrow. The two continued talking for a while and Mitchell asked a couple more times, but the undersecretary just couldn’t.
Finally, the two said their goodbyes and Mitchell walked inside, hung up his coat, and walked upstairs to his bedroom. As he was getting ready for bed, an explosion shook the house.
The force knocked him to the ground, and when he recovered from the shock, he raced downstairs to see what had happened. His library was destroyed, and what appeared to be the remains of the bomber were strewn about the room. The force of the explosion was so great that it launched one of the terrorist’s body parts onto the undersecretary’s front lawn.
As the neighbors rushed outside to see what had happened, Mitchell had a chilling thought: Had his neighbor accepted his offer to come into the library for a drink, both of them would have been killed. The fact that he repeatedly declined the offer had saved both of their lives.
And it also changed the course of American history, because it wouldn’t have just killed the Attorney General. 14 years after the explosion, Mitchell’s neighbor was inaugurated as President Franklin Delano Roosevelt.