Team of Rivals
Doris Kearns Goodwin, Ph.D.
40 min
9 Key Points
4.5 RateWhat's inside?
Explore the brilliant political strategies of Abraham Lincoln that united his rivals and led to his successful presidency during one of America's most challenging times.
You'll learn
1. How to lead by understanding different personalities2. Why political strategy and diplomacy matter3. A look at Abraham Lincoln's leadership style4. Understanding the American Civil War5. The power of bringing a divided nation together6. Why it's important to keep going when times are tough.Key points
01Four Men Chasing the Crown
The year was 1860, and the United States was standing on the edge of a terrifying precipice. The issue of slavery had violently fractured the country, turning neighbor against neighbor and threatening to tear the relatively young republic entirely apart. In this atmosphere of extreme tension and profound uncertainty, the newly formed Republican Party was preparing to choose its presidential nominee. The stakes could not have been higher. Whoever won this nomination would not just be running for an office; they would be stepping into the center of a raging inferno, tasked with the seemingly impossible job of keeping the country from completely disintegrating. At this pivotal moment in history, the political landscape was dominated by three highly accomplished, incredibly ambitious men who all firmly believed that it was their absolute destiny to lead the nation. First, there was William Henry Seward, the undisputed frontrunner and the most famous political figure in the country. Seward was a man who seemed entirely carved out of presidential timber. As a former governor of New York and a sitting United States Senator, he possessed a dazzling intellect, a magnetic charm, and a massive war chest of campaign funds that made his competitors weep with envy. He lived in a grand, bustling mansion in Auburn, New York, surrounded by adoring friends, puffing on thick cigars, and telling brilliant stories that left his dinner guests roaring with laughter. Seward was cosmopolitan, extensively traveled, and deeply confident. He did not just want the presidency; he and everyone around him assumed it was merely a formality waiting to be finalized. Next was Salmon P. Chase, the fiercely intelligent and unyieldingly righteous governor of Ohio. If Seward was the charismatic charmer, Chase was the rigid moral crusader. Chase had endured unimaginable personal tragedies, having lost three wives and multiple children to illness. These devastating losses had forged him into a man who hid his vulnerability behind a wall of intense religious devotion and relentless ambition. He carried himself with a stiff, almost aristocratic dignity, firmly believing that he was the smartest and most moral man in any room he entered. Chase looked at the presidency not just as a political office, but as a divine right. He felt that his long, uncompromising fight against slavery had earned him the highest reward the nation could offer. Then there was Edward Bates, a highly respected, deeply conservative elder statesman from Missouri. Bates was a very different kind of politician. He was a devoted family man who had fathered seventeen children and vastly preferred the quiet comfort of his sprawling estate, Grape Hill, to the chaotic mud-slinging of Washington politics. However, Bates was heavily pressured by conservative Republicans who were terrified of Seward’s radical reputation. They viewed Bates as a safe, comforting figure—a man who could bridge the gap between the North and the South because he lived in a border state and viewed slavery as an economic nuisance rather than a fierce moral crusade. And finally, there was the ultimate dark horse: Abraham Lincoln. Compared to his illustrious rivals, Lincoln’s resume looked almost embarrassingly thin. He was an obscure, awkward prairie lawyer from Springfield, Illinois. He had served only a single, largely forgotten term in Congress more than a decade earlier. He had lost two major races for the United States Senate. He had less than a single year of formal schooling in his entire life, having spent his youth chopping wood, splitting rails, and navigating flatboats down the Mississippi River. Furthermore, Lincoln suffered from deep, debilitating bouts of depression—what he called "the hypo"—and possessed an unpolished, high-pitched voice that initially grated on the ears of sophisticated Easterners. Yet, beneath his rumpled clothes and coarse exterior, Lincoln possessed a towering intellect, a brilliant grasp of language, and an unparalleled emotional intelligence. While Seward, Chase, and Bates were busy admiring their own reflections, Lincoln was out riding the muddy judicial circuits of Illinois, listening to ordinary farmers, shopkeepers, and laborers. He understood the pulse of the common people in a way his wealthy, highly educated rivals simply could not comprehend. He knew how to defuse tension with a perfectly timed, folksy anecdote, and he knew how to endure painful setbacks without losing his fundamental sense of purpose. As the spring of 1860 approached, all four of these dramatically different men set their sights on the Republican National Convention in Chicago. Seward’s team was already planning the victory parties. Chase was waiting for his inevitable anointing. Bates was quietly preparing to accept the call of duty. And Lincoln, the lanky underdog from the West, was quietly, brilliantly positioning himself to shock the entire world.
02The Shocking Upset in Chicago
When May of 1860 finally arrived, the city of Chicago transformed into a chaotic, roaring circus of political theater. The Republican National Convention was held in a massive, specially constructed wooden building known as the Wigwam, which was capable of holding an astonishing ten thousand people. The atmosphere inside was absolutely electric, thick with the smell of cheap cigars, whiskey, and the sweat of thousands of delegates shouting at the top of their lungs. If you had walked into the Wigwam on the first day of the convention, you would have assumed the race was already over. The supporters of William Henry Seward had descended upon Chicago like a conquering army. They paraded through the muddy streets with brass bands, marching in perfect unison, waving massive banners, and popping expensive champagne. Seward himself had confidently remained at his home in New York, entirely expecting a telegram at any moment announcing his glorious victory. He had even drafted his acceptance speech and a polite letter of resignation from the Senate. Salmon P. Chase was equally confident, though intensely nervous. He paced the floors of his home in Ohio, deeply frustrated that his own campaign managers seemed disorganized and unenthusiastic compared to Seward’s well-oiled machine. Edward Bates, true to his nature, waited quietly in Missouri, hoping that the convention would eventually turn to him when they realized Seward was too radical to win a general election. But back in Chicago, Abraham Lincoln’s brilliantly strategic campaign managers—led by the massive, cigar-chomping judge David Davis—were executing a masterpiece of political maneuvering. Lincoln had given them one strict instruction: "Make no contracts that will bind me." He wanted to win the nomination without promising away cabinet positions or compromising his core principles. However, David Davis and his team knew that raw idealism rarely wins conventions. They had a singular, brilliant strategy for Lincoln: Make him everyone’s second choice. They knew that Seward, Chase, and Bates all had deep, bitter enemies within the party. Lincoln, on the other hand, was widely liked and had carefully avoided alienating any specific faction. Lincoln's team worked the crowded, smoke-filled hotel rooms of Chicago around the clock. They utilized several highly effective, borderline ruthless tactics to secure the advantage: The Counterfeit Tickets: Lincoln’s campaign printed thousands of fake admission tickets to the Wigwam. They handed these out to young, loud men in Chicago, instructing them to show up hours before the convention started. By the time Seward’s refined, marching supporters arrived, the building was already packed to the rafters with screaming Lincoln fans. The Strategic Seating: Davis managed to get the Indiana and Pennsylvania delegations—two crucial swing states—seated right next to each other, allowing Lincoln’s men to easily pass messages and coordinate their voting blocks. The Roar of the Crowd: Every time Lincoln’s name was mentioned, the strategically placed supporters in the gallery erupted into deafening cheers, creating the overwhelming illusion that Lincoln was the inevitable choice of the people. When the voting began, the tension was unbearable. On the first ballot, Seward took a massive lead, exactly as expected, but he fell just short of the absolute majority required to win. Lincoln came in a surprisingly strong second, while Chase and Bates lagged far behind. This was the turning point. As the second ballot commenced, the delegates realized that Chase and Bates could not win. They had to choose between the radical, aristocratic Seward and the moderate, folksy Lincoln. Slowly, state by state, the momentum began to shift. Pennsylvania shocked the room by throwing its massive weight entirely behind Lincoln. By the third ballot, the atmosphere in the Wigwam reached a fever pitch. A breathless silence fell over the ten thousand people as the final votes were tallied. Abraham Lincoln, the obscure prairie lawyer, had done the impossible. He had secured the nomination. The building literally shook with the roar of the crowd, a cannon was fired from the roof, and church bells began ringing wildly all across Chicago. Hundreds of miles away, the news hit the rivals with the force of a physical blow. In New York, William Henry Seward read the telegram in stunned, absolute silence. The man who had prepared his whole life for this moment walked out into his garden, completely devastated, trying to comprehend how he had been beaten by a man he considered an uneducated country bumpkin. In Ohio, Salmon P. Chase was consumed by profound bitterness. He felt that the party had abandoned its moral compass by choosing a moderate over a true anti-slavery crusader. In Missouri, Edward Bates recorded his deep disappointment in his diary, resigning himself to the idea that his political career was likely over. None of these men could have possibly imagined that their political journeys were not ending. In fact, their greatest and most agonizing trials were just about to begin, and the very man who had just shattered their dreams was about to call upon them to save the nation.
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03Inviting the Predators Inside
04A House Divided and Burning
05The Crushing Weight of the Crown
06The Pen That Changed History
07Taming the Relentless Ambition
08Conclusion
About Doris Kearns Goodwin, Ph.D.
Doris Kearns Goodwin, Ph.D., is a Pulitzer Prize-winning American biographer, historian, and political commentator. Known for her meticulously researched and engagingly written biographies of American presidents, she has also worked as a professor, journalist, and presidential historian for NBC News.
