It was 211 years ago this month that a small group of men, never numbering more than five, salvaged the work of the Second Continental Congress and saved America. Although we recognize their names on the list of the nation's Founding Fathers, few appreciate the significance played by these patriots who turned what seemed like political defeat into an historic and resounding governmental triumph. For, you see, these men actually wrote the most important document in America's history, the United States Constitution, which guides our nation's destiny today as unerringly as it did more than two centuries earlier.
Although the 55 delegates who showed up for work in the summer of 1787 in Philadelphia had generally reached agreement on some of the more salient points of creating a system of government in the 13 colonies, there were a number of issues that remained undecided when the convention neared the end. It was decided by the chairman of the convocation, who thankfully was George Washington, to assign the refinement process to a small band of delegates, who then proceeded to barricade themselves in a room, closing out light and any breezes that might assuage their discomfort, to assure total secrecy.
Thus did James Madison, Edmund Randolph, Alexander Hamilton and Gouverneur Morris set about to assure and preserve the fragile nation that would experience far more challenges and many more problems than even these exceptional men could foresee. The job this group faced was writing a document that would define the wishes of the 55 delegates (a group with an original membership of 74, some of whom refused to attend because of their opposition to any kind of constitution) and then get these same men to approve provisions they had earlier opposed. Even a cockeyed optimist would have to assign Powerball odds to such an assignment.
Working almost day and night, the small group hammered out a seven-page document that was nothing less than brilliant, outlining in such concise detail the powers and limitations of a central government. Barely a word of their effort was changed before ratification of America's first Constitution came about on June 21, 1788, when New Hampshire became the ninth colony to ratify it. The remaining four eventually followed.
What is truly remarkable about the work of the small ratification committee is that its members were able to produce any document at all, since the convention delegates had hardly been unanimous in much of their voting on critical issues, such as whether the new nation was, indeed, to have a president, how the legislative bodies were to be chosen and whether there should be any such unknown entity as a Supreme Court with judges having lifetime tenure.
Not a few historians believe that without the work of the small committee that met after the other delegates had returned home there would have been no constitution, no central government with sufficient authority to carry out essential functions, no approval from widely disparate colonies with their differing political, economic and social values. One need not be a Federalist or an Anti-Federalist to agree.
Can any of us imagine what would occur if a committee of just four men was formed today to resolve deep and divisive issues facing America? Can anyone identify four men who appear to possess the qualities of a Madison or a Hamilton and whose appointments would be welcomed by the nation's political parties in 1998? Can we name four citizens, either in or out of political life, who engender widespread public respect and trust?
Even if, in 1998, given the customs and traditions of modern society, we could find four such men, then get them to agree to meet, sacrifice their careers, entertain new ideas that have never been tested, and then endorse not their own personal views but the collective decisions of their fellow members, would seem to be asking the impossible today. And, imagine, asking these men to sequester themselves in a small room without air conditioning, remaining until they had finished.
Let's imagine that we were fortunate enough to locate and secure the cooperation of four of the ablest citizens in America. Like any responsible committee charged with great decisions, the members would no doubt first request that the air conditioning be turned on, that suitable meeting rooms were provided and that, most importantly, a highly qualified, permanent staff be employed for research, resource details and stenographic backup. Polls and surveys of how citizens viewed a bicameral Congress, an empowered presidency and a court that would indeed be supreme would no doubt be the second order of any modern-day panel.
It goes without saying this group would need unlimited funding for its professional staffing, the ubiquitous lawyers, public communications experts and all the state-of-the-art computer equipment available. And such a staff would no doubt need highly skilled resource people, a fair and equitable pension system for employees, and it would not be out of reason to conclude that the committee members would request private dining facilities to keep prying reporters and the public-at-large from invading confidential matters. And, oh yes, mentally exhausted panelists would undoubtedly require their own private gym, and don't forget the unlimited postage allowances. Did anyone remember a press secretary and assistants to handle biographical material for committee members' hometown media?
Compiling estimated costs for a Committee of Four in 1998 could conservatively add up to 500 to 1,000 staff members and a reasonable amount for operating costs, so weekly expenditures shouldn't be more than four million. Which, as it turns out, happens to be the number of citizens living in America 211 years ago.
~Jack Stapleton of Kennett is the editor of Missouri News and Editorial Service.
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