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The events of September 14 · 6 stories
This day in U.S. history

September 14 in American history

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Reading 3 of 6 free1776 Club · all 6 storiesMonday, September 14
From the desk

Start with 1901: a president shot in Buffalo, dead that morning, and by afternoon a 42-year-old Theodore Roosevelt stood in Ansley Wilcox's library taking the oath from a federal judge, the youngest man ever to hold the office. Also worth your time: 1814, when Francis Scott Key spent all night listening to shells fall on Fort McHenry and only knew Baltimore held when he saw the flag still up at dawn. Little Rock's quiet fall to Union troops in 1863 rounds out a date that ran on uncertainty resolved by morning light.

— The Patriot Compass desk
1901Featured · This day in history

Roosevelt takes the oath in a borrowed library; at 42, he is the youngest president yet

William McKinley died in Buffalo on the morning of September 14, 1901, eight days after Leon Czolgosz shot him at the Pan-American Exposition. That afternoon, Theodore Roosevelt, who had rushed to the city as vice president, took the presidential oath in the library of Ansley Wilcox's home. U.S. District Judge John R. Hazel administered it. Roosevelt was 42 years old, the youngest man ever to hold the office, and his first act as president was to proclaim a period of national mourning for McKinley.

Buffalo, New YorkStory page →
The American Throughline

There was no ceremony built for this: no Capitol rotunda, just a judge and a borrowed library. A judge and a borrowed library were enough to move executive power from a dying president to his vice president in a single afternoon, showing the constitutional machinery worked even when nothing else about the moment was planned. Roosevelt's sudden ascent also reset the presidency's public image around vigor and youth for a generation.

Did you know
QHow long did William McKinley survive after being shot before he died?

Eight days. Leon Czolgosz fired two shots at McKinley on September 6, 1901, at the Pan-American Exposition in Buffalo, and for a stretch afterward doctors believed the president would pull through. He held on until the morning of September 14, when he succumbed to his wounds. Early medical optimism during that gap is what sent Roosevelt back to his family in the Adirondacks rather than keeping him at a deathbed vigil in Buffalo, before he had to reverse course and race back. The eight-day survival window shaped almost every decision made in that stretch, including where Roosevelt was when the final word came.

QWho was the man who pulled the trigger on McKinley, and what happened to him?

Leon F. Czolgosz shot McKinley twice at close range at the Pan-American Exposition on September 6, 1901. The record names him as the assassin but does not detail a trial or sentence, only that his shots proved fatal eight days later. His act triggered the succession: without it, Roosevelt remains vice president. Czolgosz's name is attached to the assassination in the historical record the same way Hazel's is attached to the oath, two men whose actions that single afternoon changed the presidency, though neither held office himself.

QWhat formal title does the site of Roosevelt's oath carry today?

It is designated the Theodore Roosevelt Inaugural National Historic Site, a federal historic designation attached to what was, in 1901, simply Ansley Wilcox's private residence. Wilcox himself was a local Buffalo lawyer with no official government role that day beyond hosting; his library became the functional equivalent of a Capitol rotunda purely by circumstance. The National Historic Site designation is one of the few in the country marking a presidential inauguration that took place in a private home rather than a public building. It formalizes, decades later, what was originally an improvised arrangement made in a matter of hours rather than a venue chosen months in advance.

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1863military

Little Rock falls; the last Confederates are out by five o'clock

By the afternoon of September 14, 1863, Sterling Price's Confederates were losing their grip on the line north of the Arkansas River. Frederick Steele's Union troops crossed the Arkansas River and pressed Marmaduke's line at Bayou Fourche, and Price ordered a full withdrawal toward Arkadelphia. The last Confederate soldiers left Little Rock by five that evening; the city's civilian government surrendered two hours later. Union troops found five cannons, 3,000 pounds of gunpowder, and 650 sick and wounded men the retreating army had left behind.

Little Rock, ArkansasStory page →
The American Throughline

Little Rock was the first Confederate state capital the Union captured west of the Mississippi River, and its fall cut the Trans-Mississippi Department off from Confederate recruiting grounds in Missouri and Indian Territory. For a Union public weary of Vicksburg's aftermath, taking a rebel statehouse was evidence the war was turning against the Confederacy in the West.

Did you know
QWhy did the Union march to Clarendon nearly cripple Steele's army before it ever reached Little Rock?

Heat, choking dust, and contaminated water did more damage than Confederate bullets during the opening leg of the campaign. Steele's troops left Helena on August 10, 1863, and linked up with John W. Davidson's cavalry at Clarendon on August 15. Within two days of arriving, more than a thousand men had fallen sick. The march came after Vicksburg had freed up Union manpower for operations in Arkansas, but disease nearly stalled the advance before a single major engagement was fought. The army still had weeks of marching and fighting ahead before Little Rock fell on September 14, one more case of a Civil War campaign nearly undone by terrain and climate before the armies even met.

QWhat happened to the Trans-Mississippi Confederacy after Little Rock fell, and how long did it hold out?

The Confederate command structure west of the Mississippi survived nearly two more years after losing its Arkansas capital. E. Kirby Smith, who led the Trans-Mississippi Department, backed Price's decision to abandon Little Rock rather than risk losing his army entirely. Confederates spent late 1863 fortifying a new stronghold at Camden, and the region saw two more major campaigns: the Camden Expedition in March 1864 and Price's Missouri Expedition in late 1864. It was not until June 2, 1865, nearly two months after Lee surrendered at Appomattox, that Trans-Mississippi forces finally laid down arms, It was not until June 2, 1865, nearly two months after Lee surrendered at Appomattox, that Trans-Mississippi forces finally laid down arms.

QHow did an 1862 failure shape the Union's second, successful attempt to take Little Rock?

Union forces had already tried and failed to seize Little Rock more than a year before Steele's campaign succeeded. In early 1862, an earlier push toward the city collapsed when Union troops ran into supply problems and were forced to retreat. That failure left Arkansas's capital in Confederate hands until Steele's 1863 advance, which benefited from lessons about logistics and from troops freed up after Vicksburg fell. Confederate forces also tested Union resolve that July, attacking the garrison at Helena, only to be repulsed. Little Rock's eventual capture came only after two earlier setbacks, in 1862 and July 1863, had already tested both sides.

1814culture

Dawn reveals the flag still flying over Fort McHenry; Key starts writing on the back of a letter

All through the night of September 13, British bomb ships had thrown shells at Fort McHenry, the last thing standing between the Royal Navy and Baltimore's harbor. Francis Scott Key, a Georgetown lawyer aboard a truce ship on a mission to free a captured doctor, had no way of knowing who held the fort until first light. At dawn on September 14, 1814, he saw Mary Pickersgill's 30-by-42-foot flag still raised over the ramparts, and began writing lines on the back of a letter in his pocket. He finished the poem that evening at Baltimore's Indian Queen Hotel.

Fort McHenry, Baltimore, MarylandStory page →
The American Throughline

Key's four stanzas, printed as a broadside three days later, gave the young republic something it lacked after the White House had been burned weeks earlier: a story of its own flag surviving the worst a great power could throw at it. Congress made it the national anthem in 1931, but Americans had already been singing it at ballgames and ceremonies for decades. The song stuck in part because of that image: a flag still there at dawn.

Did you know
QWas the giant flag over Fort McHenry raised specifically to defy the British?

No. Historians long claimed the oversized flag was hoisted to taunt the retreating Royal Navy, but that story does not hold up. Fort McHenry flew the smaller storm flag during the actual bombardment, and Mary Pickersgill's 30-by-42-foot garrison flag went up the next morning simply because it was the fort's regular reveille flag, run up every day at dawn regardless of what had happened the night before. Major George Armistead's men were following routine, not staging a gesture for Key's benefit. The timing was dramatic, but the flag went up on routine, not as a calculated insult to Cochrane's fleet.

QWhat happened to the British commander who marched on Baltimore before the bombardment even began?

Major-General Robert Ross, who had led the force that burned Washington three weeks earlier, never lived to see Fort McHenry shelled. He was killed on September 12 at the Battle of North Point, two days before Key wrote his poem, shot by American skirmishers as British troops advanced on Baltimore by land. His death removed the officer coordinating the ground assault that was meant to work in tandem with Cochrane's naval bombardment. Command shifted to Colonel Arthur Brooke, whose infantry stalled short of the city's defenses. Ross's death is one reason the land assault never pressed home while the fleet pounded the fort through the night.

QWhat exact words became attached to Key's poem to turn it into a singable song?

Within days of the September 17 broadside, someone paired Key's verses with the melody of "To Anacreon in Heaven," a British gentlemen's club drinking song written decades earlier for London's Anacreontic Society. The tune already had a wide range and a rowdy, celebratory feel suited to toasting. That a British drinking song now carried American war verses went almost unremarked at the time. Newspapers up and down the coast ran the combined words and tune that same autumn, and the pairing stuck for over a century before Congress ever made it official in 1931.

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