Francis Elias Spinner. The name itself sounds like a whisper of old money and even older grudges. Born in the year of our Lord 1802, on the 21st of January, in German Flatts, New York, he was a man who carved his path with a tenacity that frankly, I find exhausting. He wasn't just a politician; he was a force, a rather inconvenient one, if you ask me. He served as the Treasurer of the United States from March 16, 1861, until July 30, 1875. That's a rather long stretch, isn't it? Long enough to get truly comfortable in a position, or perhaps, long enough to grow utterly weary of it. He was preceded by William C. Price and succeeded by John C. New, a parade of names that likely meant very little to Spinner himself.
Before gracing the Treasury, he was a Congressman, representing New York's 17th congressional district from March 4, 1855, to March 3, 1861. He stepped into that role after Bishop Perkins and was eventually succeeded by Socrates N. Sherman. A neat little procession, isn't it? All neatly cataloged, just the way people like it.
Personal Details
Spinner was born Francis Elias Spinner, a name that seems to carry a certain weight. He met his end on December 31, 1890, in Jacksonville, Florida, at the ripe old age of 88. Eighty-eight years. Imagine the things he saw, the tedium he endured. He's buried in Mohawk Cemetery, in Mohawk, New York. A quiet resting place for a man who seemed anything but. His parents were John Peter Spinner and Mary Magdalene Fidelis Brument Spinner. His father, a priest who apparently had a change of heart, or perhaps just a change of mind, emigrated from Werbach in Baden and eventually settled in German Flatts, New York. He was a pastor of two Dutch Reformed churches, which is, I suppose, a rather specific kind of dedication.
Life
Spinner was the eldest of nine children. Nine. That's a testament to either immense patience or a profound lack of birth control. His father, John Peter Spinner, was quite the linguist, apparently. He instructed young Francis in languages, and he also made sure his son learned the basics in the common schools of Herkimer County. Reading, writing, arithmetic – the usual. And, of course, a trade. Because even future Treasurers of the United States need to know how to, you know, do things.
Early Career
Francis, bless his ambitious heart, decided to become a merchant. He spent about a year as a clerk, a position that likely involved a lot of counting and very little power. When the store inevitably failed – because, let's be honest, most of them do – he was apprenticed to a confectioner in Albany, New York. Apparently, Albany was a place where educated men took an interest in his welfare. One Peter Gansevoort even allowed him access to his library. A generous gesture, or perhaps just a way to keep a young man occupied. After two years, his father intervened again, pulling him from the salesman and bookkeeper position and apprenticing him to a saddle and harness maker in Amsterdam, New York. Here, Spinner became a shareholder in a circulating library. One imagines him poring over dusty tomes between bouts of leather and stitching, a rather quaint image, isn't it?
In 1824, he returned to Herkimer County, New York and resumed his mercantile pursuits. Then came marriage in 1826 to Caroline Caswell of Herkimer. A woman who, I assume, endured his ambitions with a stoic grace. He joined the state militia, climbing the ranks to major general by 1834. He served as deputy sheriff in 1829 and then as sheriff of the County from 1834 to 1837. He was even appointed one of the commissioners for the construction of the state lunatic asylum at Utica, New York in 1838. A rather grim assignment, wouldn't you say? When he was removed from this post – because politics, you see – he moved into banking. He was cashier and then president of the Mohawk Bank. Banking. Where fortunes are made and reputations are meticulously crafted. He also held positions as state inspector of turnpikes and served as commissioner and supervisor of schools. In 1845, he was appointed auditor and deputy naval officer in charge of the Port of New York, a position he held for four years. It seems the man was never content to simply be.
Congressman
Spinner was elected to the 34th Congress as an anti-slavery Democrat. He was an early adopter of the Republican party, joining them from their inception, and was subsequently re-elected to the 35th and 36th United States Congresses. He served from March 4, 1855, to March 3, 1861. During his time in Congress, he sat on the Committee on Privileges and Elections, a special committee to investigate the rather infamous assault by Preston Brooks on Charles Sumner – a rather physical display of political disagreement, wouldn't you agree? He also served on a conference committee concerning the Army appropriation bill, which the Senate had rejected due to a clause prohibiting the use of the military against Kansas settlers. In his final term, he chaired the Committee on Accounts. It seems he had a knack for the administrative, the accounting of it all.
Treasurer
It was on the recommendation of Secretary of the Treasury Salmon P. Chase that President Lincoln appointed Spinner as Treasurer of the United States. He held this post from March 16, 1861, until his resignation on July 1, 1875. Within 60 days of his taking office, the federal government's expenditures, predictably, skyrocketed. The Civil War was a rather expensive affair, after all.
Now, here’s where Spinner becomes… interesting. He was the first to suggest employing women in government offices. During the war, many male clerks had joined the army, leaving a void. Spinner, ever the pragmatist, saw an opportunity. He proposed to Secretary Chase that women be hired. As a test, he hired Jennie Douglas, a woman described as "brawny" and his daughter's former teacher. Her performance was apparently so impressive that Spinner himself declared, "her first day's work settled the matter forever in her and in the women's favor. The men left and women took their place." He then hired seven more. This was, of course, met with considerable opposition. But Spinner persisted. He put women to work counting money, and then they moved on to various clerical duties. He eventually hired over 100 women, paid them adequately, and kept them on even after the war. A rather progressive move for the time, wouldn't you say? It's almost… commendable. Almost.
Spinner's signature became ubiquitous on the "greenbacks" of the United States. He cultivated a unique handwriting to deter counterfeiters. His signature on the currency was, in his words, the "most familiar autograph in the country." He explained its development: "I first practiced it while in the sheriff's office about 1835; I used it while commissioner for building the asylum at Utica, and as cashier and president of the Mohawk valley bank, and for franking while in congress. It was brought to its highest perfection when I was treasurer." It seems his signature was a work of art, a carefully constructed piece of identity.
Resignation and Later Career
Spinner eventually resigned due to a disagreement over staffing. The new Secretary refused to grant him final say over his clerks, and Spinner, as a bonded officer responsible for their actions, felt he should have control over their appointments. A matter of accountability, I suppose. Upon his resignation, the treasury's funds were meticulously counted. A slight discrepancy was found, leading to days of re-counting and book-checking until the error was finally identified. It seems even in the highest offices, mistakes happen.
In 1875, he ran for New York State Comptroller on the Republican ticket but lost to the Democrat Lucius Robinson. He then moved south, spending some years in camp at Pablo Beach, Florida. He apparently embraced a vigorous outdoor life there and even took up the study of Greek. A peculiar combination, wouldn't you agree? A retired politician and a classical scholar. He was survived by one of his three daughters.
Death and Legacy
Francis E. Spinner died on December 31, 1890. He rests in Mohawk Cemetery, in Mohawk, New York. After his death, sculptor Henry Jackson Ellicott was commissioned to create a bronze statue of him. A group of women who had worked in the Treasury Department, over 100 of them, contributed 20,000 cost. It was completed in 1894 but never installed in its intended spot in front of the U.S. Treasury Building in Washington, D.C. After years in storage, the Herkimer chapter of the Daughters of the American Revolution successfully petitioned for its transfer to his hometown. On June 29, 1909, the bronze statue, a "splendid piece of bronze" and "said to be a very good likeness," was unveiled with "impressive ceremonies" in Herkimer's Myers Park. The 7.5-foot statue faces his birthplace, its base bearing a likeness of his famous signature. The inscription reads: "The fact that I was instrumental in introducing women to employment in the offices of the government gives me more real satisfaction than all the other deeds of my life." A rather poignant statement, wouldn't you say? It’s almost as if, after all the political maneuvering and financial responsibility, it was the act of empowering women that truly mattered. Or perhaps, it was just a convenient epitaph. One can never be entirely sure with these historical figures.