David G. Burnet, head of the temporary government, gave into public pressure and unexpectedly resigned on Oct. 22, 1836, to make way for president-elect Sam Houston. At four o’clock that afternoon, the hero of San Jacinto took the oath of office weeks ahead of schedule.
Mirabeau Lamar, Burnet’s biased soul mate, later grumbled, “That little month Houston could not wait.” But popular impatience rather than the general’s ambitious agenda was responsible for the early exit of the lame duck. Texans were in a hurry for Houston to take the reins and get on with the business of running the country.
In truth the clamor gave Burnet a convenient excuse to vacate the hot seat. After holding down the fort during the darkest days of the Revolution, he was ready to put the burden on someone else’s shoulders.
The problems facing President Houston were as immense as the majestic land he helped to liberate. Starting out a million dollars in the hole with no cash or credit, he had to create a viable regime that could rule the unruly nation.
A pressing priority was an effective policy toward the Indians, a mixed bag of tribes whose attitudes ranged from incorrigible hostility to inscrutable suspicion. Besides keeping the Indians in check, Texans also had to guard against Mexico making good on its threat to wade the Rio Grande and repossess the rebel province.
Houston’s inaugural remarks were chock-full of contagious confidence in speedy annexation. He assured the receptive audience the United States would soon “hail us welcome into the great family of freemen.” Therefore, the task was merely to stall for time until Washington opened the door.
Two major miscalculations sank this simplistic strategy. First, Houston overestimated how far out on a political limb Andrew Jackson, his American counterpart and former mentor, was willing to go for the Lone Star cause. Second, he badly misjudged the clout of the New England lobby so zealously committed to locking Texas out of the Union.
Clearly convinced he would be the Republic’s first and last chief executive, Houston was in for a rude awakening. In the summer of 1838, when he finally accepted the fact that the motherland wanted nothing to do with Texas, there were but four months left in his term.
Critics predicted in October 1836 that Houston would surround himself with bootlicking yes-men, who would feed his insatiable ego. To their surprise he shrewdly put together a broad coalition with as many enemies as allies.
A galaxy of able individuals from all points on the political compass were appointed to important positions. By giving every quarrelsome clique a taste of power, Houston made certain all factions had a stake in the success of his administration.
Both candidates swamped in the September election were graciously invited into the cabinet. Cantankerous Henry Smith accepted the treasury post, and Stephen F. Austin, who finished a distant and disappointing third in the balloting, agreed to serve as secretary of state.
For vice-president, however, Houston was stuck with the voters’ choice. The second highest spot in the national pecking order belonged to none other than Burnet’s buddy, 38-year-old Mirabeau Lamar.
Houston and the glib Georgian did not share the same ticket in the campaign, and once in office they did not share the same vision for the new nation. As committed to permanent sovereignty as his superior was to American adoption, Lamar rejoiced at every pothole the president encountered on the rocky road to annexation.
The one volatile issue that demanded Houston’s immediate attention was the prisoner whose presence continued to be a powder keg. As long as Santa Anna remained in custody, the dangerous prospect of mob revenge lurked in the shadows. Those Texans, who mourned the slaughter of friends and relatives in the Goliad and Alamo massacres, longed to spill the Mexican’s blood.
In addition, the humbled “Napoleon of the West” had lost any value as a diplomatic pawn. The Velasco treaties he signed after San Jacinto became worthless scraps of paper the moment his replacement repudiated the accords.
Since Andrew Jackson preached the pious necessity of sparing Santa Anna’s life, it seemed only fitting that the fate of the famous captive wind up in his hands. Houston cleverly maneuvered his old Tennessee tutor into a corner and forced him to play host to the unwanted exile.
President Houston startled the Texas senate on Nov. 16, 1836, by announcing the sailing of Santa Anna for Washington. One problem down and 100 to go, but most would not be solved so easily.
Read all about the early years of the oil frenzy in “Texas Boomtowns: A History of Blood and Oil” Order your copy for $24.00 by mailing a check to Bartee Haile, P.O. Box 130011, Spring, TX 77393.
