Few tasks were more daunting than a national census, as William Merriam would soon discover. Counting citizens was just the beginning. Policy makers needed to know how many were insane, feeble-minded, deaf, dumb, blind, criminals, and paupers. They needed social statistics of cities, information on public indebtedness, and valuation of properties, both personal and industrial.

And from farmers, the heart of the nation, much would be asked. To determine a farm’s size and value—the number and value of all animals, the acres planted and unused, how many acres were used for each fruit, vegetable, or grain, and more—310 questions were asked.

And it wasn’t just the United States that would be assessed. Information was needed on the populations of all cities, towns, villages, and boroughs covering the District of Columbia, Alaska, Hawaii, non-state territories, Indian territories, reservations, Puerto Rico, Cuba, Philippines, and Guam. Wherever the census applied, agriculture and manufacturing would be addressed in detail. » Continue Reading.

When the president began handing out appointments, William Merriam was a strong candidate for many positions. In business, he had recently been touted as the right man to head the Northern Pacific Railroad, of which he was already a director. In politics, he was mentioned as the front-runner for many very important positions: Department of the Interior, Secretary of the Treasury, Secretary of War, ambassador to Germany, and ambassador to Russia. He was widely considered very capable of filling any of those positions, and had another thing going for him: no skeletons in the closet, and no scandals for the opposition to resurrect.

And it’s true: the rival party well knew of Merriam’s qualifications, his intelligence, and affability. His only problem came from within his own party’s ranks—yet it had nothing to do with politics, and little to do with Merriam himself. » Continue Reading.