Tuesday, November 6th

William Green Dickinson and his wife Sarah King Dickinson could hear the tubas and trumpets emanating from within King Hall well before they entered its double-wide doors. As they approached with the last of the rain-dampened leaves on the road sticking to their shoes, the torches on either side of the two sets of double-wide doors threw off phantasms of shadow and light that danced with the march music.

Years before, William had thought his father-in-law more than a little foolish to build this private auditorium bearing his name in the village center alongside the city hall and jail. “A vanity project,” was the thought he had not shared with Sarah. Of course, back then, he couldn’t have contemplated this night.

The room was boisterous and bright. It was as if there were three parties occurring simultaneously. To the right of the stage, the Malone Coronet Band – a collection of brass players and drummers in matching gold uniforms – played their repertoire, heavy on the tubas and two bass drums. On the other side, the rag-tag members of the Republican Wide Awake Club waved their signs for Lincoln and Hamlin and Wheeler, shouting “Free Speech, Free Soil, Free Men.” And William could see William Almon Wheeler, his brother-in-law, peek out from behind the velvet curtain of the stage. He was preparing to address the hundreds in the hall, but there were still women and men streaming in the front doors. It was the first Tuesday in November, but the room felt like a sauna.

Sarah spotted her sister in the side of the hall under a bank of windows. “Mary’s over there,” she called. And sure enough, there was Mary King Wheeler, in her finest outfit, engaged in conversation with three of the town’s elders. She was every bit the candidate’s wife, still working long after the polls had closed. When Mary saw the two of them, she quickly broke off her conversation and weaved through the throngs to Sarah and William. She kissed her sister’s cheek and then took William’s hand, “Good evening, Mister Treasurer.”

“We’ll have none of that until the results are official,” said William Green Dickinson.

A couple of years earlier, a conversation with Bill Wheeler changed the trajectory of William Green Dickinson and his half-brother Wells Stoughton Dickinson’s lives. Wheeler, more than 10 years their senior, was something of an uncle to the two men. “You need to understand this,” Wheeler had said, behind the closed door of his wood-paneled study. “Politics is the marriage of community and business interest.” Reflecting on the Dickinson’s businesses – mills and mercantiles – he continued, “While you are doing fine, you could be doing so much more. And our community would benefit from your participation.”

“What are you suggesting?” Wells asked.

“Nothing too grand,” said Wheeler. “Come with me to the meetings of the new anti-slavery group, the Republicans. You’ll meet men of character there. Business owners. Landholders.”

Wheeler’s face tightened. “I’m concerned.” Rubbing his brow, he continued, speaking of the other splinter of the now-defunct Whig Party, “The Know Nothings in the county – there are more and more of them, they spread like mushrooms – are every bit as bad as the Democrats. They are bad for Malone, bad for New York, bad for our country.”

William Green Dickinson said, “Father has talked about this. There hasn’t been violence. At least, not yet, but some of the Irishmen working in the mills have been threatened.”

Wells, who shared interests with his father in starch mills that his brother did not, said, “I’ve seen it too. The American Party – the Know-Nothings – call them what you will, point to the Catholics, saying they’re the problem.”

“Precisely,” said Wheeler. “You’ll see. You’ll get introduced to people – right-minded ones, ones on the move.” Wheeler paused. “The threat isn’t just slaveowners in the south. It’s much closer than that. We can beat back these threats at the ballot box.”

Taking principled stands while serving his own self-interest had been a braided rope for Wheeler from that start. His law practice expanded as he took his first steps in the world of public service, moving rapidly from Town Clerk to Superintendent of Schools to Indian Agent. With his election to the State Assembly in 1849, he took on commercial interests – starting the Bank of Malone and taking control of the Northern Railroad, which linked Boston to the St. Lawrence River, north of town.

William Green Dickinson and his brother Wells were comfortable at home, energetic at work. They harbored the aspirations, if not yet the means, of men like their father Joshua or William King, if not the King of Malone, a king of Malone; the patriarch of the family that both William Wheeler and William Green Dickinson had married into. If standing with men of principle would enhance their prospects, they were both all for it. They had young sons at home who needed to be provided for and dreams to be fanned.

“Gentlemen,” William Wheeler said, leaning across the desk, “The Union is strengthened when men like you are willing to put your shoulders to the wheel.” He clasped their hands and looked deep into their eyes. “You won’t be disappointed. It is a fine thing to do well while doing good.”

And with that, civic and self-interest were joined. William Wheeler, a delegate to the first Republican national convention, was elected to the State Senate in 1857, rising within a term to President pro tem. Wells Stoughton Dickinson joined him in the State Assembly two years later.

And on a crisp November night, hundreds of Republicans gathered in an overheated King Hall were hopeful that their ticket headed by Abraham Lincoln and Hannibal Hamlin, and their down ballot nominees, William Wheeler, for the 17thDistrict in the House of Representatives, and William Green Dickinson, for Franklin County Treasurer, would prevail.

William Almon Wheeler emerged from behind the curtain. The band ceased their playing. The Wide Awakes laid down their signs. The room quieted to a gentle hum. Wheeler, addressed the crowd with something approaching a shout, “Ladies and gentlemen, in Franklin County and the North Country, it is a clean sweep for the Party of the Union.” Backstage, Sara King Dickinson looked up at her husband. The newly-elected Franklin County Treasurer smiled backed at her.