From+Tailor+to+President+-+Julie+Dixon

At the ripe old age of eight, my mama decided that I needed to learn how to ride a horse. That idea would have sat a little better with me had I been born a girl—I could never figure why my mama and daddy wanted their son to spend time down at a stable. Why couldn’t I spend my time building things, using hammers, nails, and big pieces of wood like the other boys my age? Or, why couldn’t I just go out and play in the mud? Why did I have to go sit on the back of a little horse with a girly saddle? Those were just a few of the questions I asked going in; but looking back, I’m actually rather grateful for that stable.

The cool breeze of the autumn afternoon brushed the top of my hair as I approached Casso’s Inn. I must have had an overwhelming look of disdain on my face because I wiped the smiles off of the faces of everyone that I encountered on my way to Casso’s stables. Everyone, except one person, that is. Her name was Mary Johnson, and she was a weaver at Casso’s. She had a calming presence, one that made me feel at ease even in the midst of my unhappiness. Mrs. Johnson explained that I was, in fact, not the only boy that was learning to ride a horse around those stables. She also told me about her husband and how he had once ridden horses. His name was Jacob, and at the time, he was the hostler at Casso’s. She explained that he was on horseback the first time that she was drawn to him—of course, wanting to be a ladies’ man, I was encouraged by her sentiments. It wasn’t until Mrs. Johnson spoke of her son that I truly became interested. His name was Andrew, and he was the luckiest boy ever in my eyes—he didn’t have to go to school!

I decided one day, about a month in to visiting the stables, that I wanted to stick around and see if Andrew might make an appearance. I’d never actually seen him before, but it wouldn’t be hard to spot a boy about five years older than me; it seemed like all I ever saw around there were girls. Turns out it was my lucky day. As I walked back up to the Inn I saw a boy about ten inches taller than me, looking a little disheveled. He was busy with some janitorial tasks—sweeping and cleaning up trash. I debated whether or not to say anything to him; I didn’t want to interrupt, but being eight years old, that debate didn’t last for long. I walked right up to Andrew, introduced myself, and the rest is history. He was a good friend to me; he helped to teach me the ways of boys his age. Sure, we got into a little mischief, but it was all in good fun.

That fun lasted for quite some time. Our friendship was very care-free, and for a time I considered him my best friend. I got to know his mama and daddy really well; they treated me like their third son. But then one day, my ‘second daddy’ was gone. Mr. Johnson was down at the river with some friends, and turns out those friends couldn’t swim. He was able to save them but lost his life in the process. I’ll never forget that day.

Shortly after his daddy died, Andrew, along with his brother William, started working for a tailor in Raleigh named Mr. Selby. I remember when he started working—I would wait outside of the shop for him to be finished every afternoon. Since his daddy had died, Andrew was not always the same happy person I had met at the Inn, he was a little bitter. But, he would still take time to talk to me some days.

Andrew had always been mischievous, but one day, about two years after he started to work, he went a little too far. Let me put it this way: folks don’t like it when you throw rocks at their house. That’s what I’d heard anyway. Andrew left town without saying goodbye; I had to hear from his mama what had happened. She told me that he must have been scared and that’s why he ran. Needless to say I was disappointed. I wanted my friend back, but I had no way to tell him that.

Since I had spent many afternoons talking to Andrew about his work in the tailor shop, I decided I wanted to give it a try. So, I asked Mr. Selby if I might become his apprentice, and being the nice man that he was, he welcomed me with open arms. I enjoyed working for a time—I learned a lot and feel like that shop is where I did most of my growing up.

After a few years of hard work, out of nowhere, Andrew returned to Raleigh. To tell you the truth, I’d almost forgotten about him. When someone disappears it is almost easier to just move on and not wonder what might’ve been. I will say, though, that I was glad to see him. He had come back hoping to take back his old job, not knowing that I had taken his place. We talked for a time, but nothing more. The old friendship had essentially disintegrated, and his disappointment at a lack of a job opening caused him to leave once again. This time, he took his mother, brother, and new stepfather with him. I didn’t know it at the time, but they packed up and headed to Greeneville, Tennessee.

That was the last I heard of Andrew Johnson—or so I thought. Years later, in 1864, I was reunited, although very indirectly, with Andrew. As luck would have it, he was running for vice president of America on Abraham Lincoln’s ticket. And you know what? He took over as president after Abraham Lincoln was assassinated! Who would have thought that my taking the job he wanted would have inadvertently led him to a political office? Even though we lost contact, I still have the privilege of saying that I was once best friends with one of the leaders of this here great nation. All thanks to my mama—for making me ride those horses.

Instruction: After introducing young Andrew Johnson, I would like to focus on Andrew Johnson: President of the United States. I would like for my students to each write a letter to him asking questions about his presidency. I will encourage them to pick topics of conversation that are of interest to them. Once the letter writing is completed, it will be their job to research the answers to their questions. The final leg of the project will be an in-class presentation. Each student will read the letter that they have written and then respond as if they are Andrew Johnson. Their responses should be brief, ~2 minutes, and they will hopefully be able to do it from memory.