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Jean Laffite and the Laflin Connection

April 28, 2013 in American History, general history, History

LaffiteScrapSmallAd  Although the “Journal of Jean Laffite” was introduced to the public by John Andrechyne Laflin, a person with a shady past and a reputation as a forger, we cannot entirely discount his claim that there was some connection between the well-established Laflin family and Jean Laffite.

Toward the end of the journal  — actually a memoir and scrapbook — there are several clippings that relate to Matthew Laflin and to the Laflin  family gun powder business. At the very least, if the journal is indeed that of Jean Laffite, the privateer must have had more than a passing acquaintance with the Laflins.

Matthew Laflin was  born  in 1803 in Southwick, Massachusetts and died in 1897 in Chicago,  Illinois. His father was a gunpowder manufacturer, and he continued successfully with the family business. His great grandfather arrived in America in 1740 from Ulster, Ireland. That much, the Wikipedia tells us. But if we are looking for a picture of  the said Matthew Laflin, the Wikipedia does not answer that need. On the other hand, “The Journal of Jean Laffite” supplies a curious likeness.



What does it all mean? Why is Mathew spelled with only a single letter t ?  Who drew the picture and why was it included in the scrapbook? Clearly this picture does refer to the manufacturer of gunpowder, for on an adjoining page we have this full page ad:


 Could Jean Laffite have been a silent partner in the St. Louis branch of the Laflin business? Could he even have pretended to be part of that family, going by the name of Laflin? If we want to find out more about the Laffite/Laflin connection, where should we go to learn more? Would Ulster County, New York be a good place to start?


Theodosia and the Pirates: The War Against Spain (This book is about Jean Laffite in Galveston, Cartagena and St. Louis)

Copyright 2013 Aya Katz

Theodosia and the Pirates The Battle Against Britain (This book is really about Jean Laffite and the Battle of New Orleans)

The Scrapbook of Jean Laffite

April 27, 2013 in American History, general history, History

“The Journal of Jean Laffite” is a historical manuscript that surfaced in 1948 when John Andrechyne Laflin presented it to the Missouri Historical Society. He claimed that it was a journal kept by Jean Laffite from 1845 to 1850. The authenticity of “the Journal” has been questioned by many, and while not everyone believes it was written by Jean Laffite, it is an artifact from the latter half of the nineteenth century, is written in a hand that looks like the signature of Jean Laffite on his ship’s manifest, and does tell things from the point of view of Jean Laffite and in his voice, to the extent that we know his point of view and voice from other documents. Some believe that the Journal was not written by Jean Laffite himself, but rather by a close associate, one of his sons or by his second wife. Most, however, cast doubt on John Anderchyne’s role in bringing the “The Journal” to light, and many doubt his claims to be related to Jean Laffite.

“The Journal” is written in French and currently resides at the  Sam Houston Regional Library and Research Center in Texas. It is not really a journal. It is much more like a memoir written toward the end of his life by an old man about events that happened much earlier. Not only that, but the journal is also a scrapbook.


Jean Laffite discusses martial law in New Orleans under General Andrew Jackson

Kept in a memorandum notebook,  the hand-scrawled memoirs are also decorated with scraps of newspaper clippings from a number of different years.


The inside cover of the scrapbook.

We can learn much about a man from the sorts of things he chooses to record and the types of events he never mentions. But equally revealing is the sort of material he chooses to clip from the newspaper and keep as a memento. Take, for instance, the clipping posted below. Written in rhyme, it tells the terms and conditions under which someone was willing to do business: trade or cash, but no credit.


A poem published in the paper by a merchant who was willing to trade or take cash, but would grant no credit.

In verse, the advertisement runs as follows:

He has received of any kind,
That you in any store can find.
And as I purchase by the Bale,
I am determined to retail
For READY PAY a little lower
Than ever have been had before.

I with my brethren mean to live
But as for credit shall not give.

I would not live to rouse your passions
For credit here is out of fashion.
My friends and buyers one and all
It will pay you well to give a call.
You always may find me by my sign
A few rods from the house divine.

The following articles will be received in payment: Wheat, Rye, Buckwheat, Oats, Corn, Butter, Flax, Ashes and Raw Hides. These articles will be taken in at Esopus prices. Cash will not be refused.

Warsink. December 25, 1799.

While arguably the reason Laffite kept that ad was not because of the verse, but because of the business arrangement that it describes, another clipping is a poem written by a young lady about the death of George Washington.


The poem, while not necessarily high art, does have a very solemn patriotic tone. But the journal is not always solemn, and the clippings are sometimes humorous. Here is an anecdote about swearing that was clipped into the scrapbook of Jean Laffite.


 The above clipping tells an anecdote about a Dr. Desaguliers. The Doctor was invited to a party with “illustrious” company, one of whom, an officer, kept swearing and then apologizing for having sworn. This went on for some time, until, tired of this, the Doctor said: “If God Almighty does not hear you, I assure you I will never tell him.”

What can we learn from “The Journal of Jean Laffite”? Most of the facts it relates about his life are already well known. Those facts that are under dispute, will probably remain under dispute. But the scrapbook of Jean Laffite is another matter entirely. From it we can learn about the character of the man who kept it, what he found amusing, poignant, funny or worthy of note.

Sometimes it is not what we say about ourselves that matters the most. It’s how we see others and which of their writings we value that reveals our own true character.


Copyright  2013 Aya Katz

The Beloved Buccaneer of St. Catharines

April 10, 2013 in American History, Caribbean History, general history, History, Louisiana History, Texas History


Bolivar Patriot Flag 1820

Captain Job Northrup led a double life. As a Patriot privateer in the early 1800s he captured Spanish ships, seizing their goods with a singular fervor. Prize money was carefully banked in the West Indies while Northrup combed the Gulf of Mexico, waiting for the end of a successful cruise, so he could make his secretive month-long return voyage home, to the faraway Canadian village of St. Catharines near Niagara Falls, where everyone cherished him for his unequalled benevolence and pleasant personality.

“Of all the newcomers to St. Catharines, Commodore Northrup was the greatest acquisition to the place, in his own peculiar line,’ wrote a friend, Jedediah Prendergast Merritt, years later in 1875.

Along with his wife and young daughter, Capt. Northrup arrived at the Ontario community in 1821. Operating under the Mexican flag of the Patriots, he already had been a notorious privateer for five years, in association with both the Laffites and Louis Aury at Galveston and New Orleans. By 1821, Northrup had joined forces with Bolivar and Artigas to patrol the seas for Spanish Royalist ships.

“At each time he returned to St. Catharines, (Northup) was in possession of a respectful share of the “needful.” Privateer, buccaneer or commodore, his role among us was to spend money,” noted Merritt. “His turn-outs were the best, his dinners the finest, and his social qualities unbounded.”

Spanish Royalists experienced the unpleasant side of the notable captain. In 1816, as commander of the Mexican Independencia, he had boldy but unsuccessfully tried to ransom some Spanish officers to authorities at Pensacola. By 1821, the corsair had plagued Spanish shipping to such an extent that he had earned a reputation rivaling even that of  his friend Jean Laffite,

In mid 1821, a Massachusetts reporter wrote, “We learn that the buccaneering trade still flourishes off the Islands and on the South American coasts. Indeed, piracy and plundering on the ocean have become so well organized, and so extremely practical, that they are both carried on without scruple, and without concealment. It is but a short time since an attack was made by one of the most notorious of these marine banditti_the renowned Job Northrup_upon a steamboat lying off the island of Cuba, which by the narrowest chance only escaped his fangs.”

Before he turned against the Spanish Royalists, Northrup, born in 1785 in Woodbridge, Conn., had seemed destined for a career in the US Navy. The heady opportunities flaunted by New Orleans schemers and Patriot privateers successfully caught his attention in 1816 while he was sailing master (navigator) for the US brig Boxer. That ship captured the murderous Capt. William Mitchell and his richly laden prize Cometa off the Balize on April 8 of that year.

An anonymous Navy officer who must have been onboard the Boxer when she captured the Cometa wrote about what he saw with evident jaw-dropping awe that fellow crewman Northrup must have shared:  “The captured schooner Cometa is about 53 tons burthen and is one of the swiftest sailing vessels of her size I ever saw. She had on board one long 12 pounder on a pivot, 168 years old: and five other guns, from 3 to 6 pounders, all of brass. The prize is supposed to be worth from $50-60,000. One small basket is said to contain $10,000 worth of jewels. The cabin of the Cometa contained a great quantity of beautiful china ware, and the wardrobe of the captain is very elegant.”

Sometime during the summer of 1816 while the Boxer was cruising off the Balize, Northrup jumped ship and joined the Laffites and their privateers. By early September, he was captain of a Mexican Republican privateer, the Independencia. Among his first prizes was a Spanish letter of marque, whose crew he landed and treated with humanity. Soon afterwards not far from the Balize below New Orleans, he boarded a Spanish brig, taking care not to harm the vessel, cargo or crew. He stayed around the coast near the Balize and Grand Isle for some time, making authorities wary.

In early 1817, in association with French privateer Louis Aury,  Northrup was sailing the Independencia as the Hotspur with a letter of marque from the Mexican Republic. The ship was soon seized by New Orleans port officials for irregularities after its  name change, but Capt. Northrup went free.

He then seems to apparently have stayed idle for almost two years, for newspapers fail to mention him again until April 1819, when the British schooner Speedwell ran across the Patriot privateer La Constantia under the command of a friendly Capt. Northrup. When the British officers went onboard, he showed them his commission from Artigas, president of the “Oriental Republic of La Plata.” The officers were received “very politely but in all parade of preparation. Capt. Northup professed his disposition at all times to treat the British flag with respect, and said he had friends at Nassau,” reported the Speedwell captain.

Around the West Indies a short time later, Northrup’s crew got ugly and attempted to mutiny. Two of the ringleaders were shot, another crewman wounded, and several others were severely punished by Northrup and his officers. The cause was said to have stemmed from the “effects of a case of gin, which the crew had clandestinely taken on board at Turks Island. The mutineers had armed themselves with harpoons, pistols and bludgeons.”

Soon the crew of the Constantia faced a different conflict when they fought an almost lethal battle with a Spanish topsailed schooner of 14 long brass guns in the Old Straits. During the fight, the Constantia’s main gun got dismounted from its carriage, giving the Spaniards an advantage, forcing Capt. Northrup to haul off. The Constantia was said to have been “literally cut to pieces, having 300 cannonballs and grape shot in her hull, rigging and sails.”

As he slowly made his way to a friendly port to make repairs, Northrup asked for help from the American schooner Commerce near the Hole in the Wall area. Capt. S. Thaxter of the Commerce said Northup “treated us very politely. All he asked for was two planks to repair his gun carriages_for he had had an engagement with a Spanish sloop of war and lost three of his officers and 12 men. Capt. Northrup had been out three months and taken two prizes, one of which was a Spanish Guineaman with 45 slaves_and manned altogether with Englishmen and Americans_and had no papers whatever to show, but her log book. The Patriot boarding officer said they had no money to pay for the planks, but asked my name, and said if they should fall in with me again, they would endeavor to pay me.”

More problems for the Constantia loomed ahead. On the Fourth of July, 1819, Capt. Northrup anchored the ship at Ragged Island with the intention of celebrating the anniversary of American independence. A quarrel about the observance started up among the crew, who were of different nations. The next day, eight of the crew found themselves set on shore.

The worst was yet to come. At Norfolk, Va., where Northrup had gone to repair his battered ship, he lost his brother and fellow privateer Henry in a tragic boating accident. Henry and another crewman, Richard Hambly, had gone sightseeing in the ship’s boat when it upset and they both drowned. Their bodies washed up in Hampton Creek and were buried in the church yard of that town.

Capt. Northrup’s luck changed for the better the following year. Capt. Trowbridge of the schooner Decatur said he spoke to Northrup in June 1820 on his passage in the West Indies on the way to New Haven. Northrup told him that he had been successful of late, and had deposited $30,000 in specie with one firm in the Bahamian islands. Northrup seemed to be consumed with seizing as many prizes and cargos as possible, without resorting to unnecessary violence.

In the 1820s, Northrup spent part of each year in the Gulf of Mexico, and the other time at home in St. Catharines, resuming the cloak of convivial family man. With his Spanish gold he observed Christmas with his family and styled himself like a Robin Hood of the Spanish Main. A neighbor at St. Catharines recalled that the buccaneer kept the holiday in a “grand old style, being a continual round of festivities, balls, parties, sleigh rides, social visiting, turkey shooting, etc. In fact it seemed as if the ancient days of the Yule and the Holly were revived in the western woods…a grand dinner was given by Commodore Northrup to which all friends were invited. Harmony and good will prevailed throughout. The sick, the poor and unfortunate were looked after, as were all else who could plead distress.”

Northrup was known for his unparalleled generosity. Once when the captain’s team of horses ran off with his carriage at St. Catharines, he gave both the horses and the carriage to the man who recovered them, saying he would never drive them again. He also frequently gave money to his small daughter for playing the piano for his dinner guests.

Northrup had been a sailor for over 15 years by the time he retired, in early 1825. Utilizing his early experience as a savvy navigator, Northrup demonstrated great skill in picking off prizes in the Gulf. His technique was detailed in the following account from 1824, when he commanded the Colombian national schooner General Santander, a year and a half after Jean Laffite had had that ship’s helm.

On August 19, 1824, while in the Florida channel, the General Santander fell in with a fleet of four vessels under the convoy of a French brig of war, Genie, Capt. Bourdais, of 16 guns. Capt. Northrup suspectyed the ships being protected were all Spanish, so he hoisted a flag to learn from Capt. Bourdais just what they were, and if it was his intention to protect them. Bourdais claimed all the vessels were French, but appearances didn’t look right, and Northrup didn’t believe him. He ran the General Santander beside one of the suspect ships and asked what flag she was under and got the answer “Spanish,’ with that flag run up and then struck. Northrup immediately took command of that ship, named Barbaretta, The Genie made no move toward defense, so he proceeded to pick off another of the fleet, the schooner Medusa, which was captured four hours later, followed by the brig Noticioso, of 10 guns and 45 men, which also surrendered. The prizes were manned and ordered for Porto Cabello.

Still on the prowl for the last ship of the convoy, Capt. Northrup was stymied by the approach of nightfall as he sought to close ranks with the felucca Ligero, which was laden with coffee from Matanzas for Cadiz, but by the next afternoon he had seized her, too with the French convoy leader completely neutral through the whole series of events. The captures were all the more remarkable for the fact the General Santander was in somewhat damaged condition when they were made: Northrup could not accompany his own prizes back to port due to problems with a loose stern, plus the fore and foretopsail yards were in disrepair, forcing him to bear away to Norfolk for shipyard repairs. During this cruise Northrup captured 15 guns, with three fine vessels (two of which were Guineamen bound to Africa) and made 120 prisoners. The General Santander accomplished this largely through the skill of her commander, as the ship only mounted five guns herself.

Northrup capped his career on the high seas with a bloody action off Cumana in late December 1824, when the General Santander successfully fought a Spanish government brig called the Marie Santa, Capt. Jose Andoyes, of 22 guns and a valuable cargo. Somehow Northrup and his crew managed to win the conflict and seize the prize, even though vastly outgunned. The General Santander had seven killed and 16 slightly wounded, and the Marie Santa 26 killed and 19 wounded.


Welland Canal which Capt. Northrup built at St. Catharines

His narrow escape from death convinced Northrup to give up the privateering business for good and head home to St. Catharines to retire. He became a stalwart member of that community, involved in the Welland Canal project, the Episcopal Church of St. George, plus running a small ship on Lake Ontario until he became too ill to continue. He died Oct. 19, 1833, at the age of 48 following an illness of two years.

Newspapers around the Niagara area lauded the former privateer, saying his relatives and friends “are deprived of an open-hearted, generous and sympathetic companion and friend; and the society of the neighborhood will long experience the void his absence will create, more particularly on occasion of general contribution for laudable, patriotic, and charitable programs, in which few could claim a higher rank on the scene of enterprising liberality and usefulness than Commodore Northrup.” Another memorial said Northrup was “deeply lamented by the village community as a most generous and warm-hearted man_sincere in his actions, and beloved by all who knew him.”

Due to his disappearance from the Gulf following the Marie Santa battle, the Spaniards and most of the other captains of the day probably thought  Capt. Northrup died of his wounds in 1824. His life in St. Catharines was not known in the United States until years after he had died.

The most ironic part of the whole story, though, is that two famous privateers, both Jean Laffite and Job Northrup, ended their careers on the same ship: the General Santander of Colombia.

Edward Livingston: A Famous Man That Few Have Heard Of

April 9, 2013 in American History, general history, History

Many people are born into obscurity, lead undistinguished lives, and die in obscurity. They never arrive at prominence, and neither do they feel any particular need to appear in the limelight. No statues are erected in their honor, no streets are named after them.   And neither they nor their descendants feel at all slighted that there is nary a mention in the history books of their dear departed. The fact is that most people expect to be forgotten, because even in life they are not well known, except to a handful of their friends and relatives.

And then there is another class of people: those who are known, but nobody quite knows what they are known for. The people who have streets named after them, or colleges and universities, or at least buildings on campus, but they have not done anything all that remarkable, and people assume they must have simply bought their fame. They were born into rich families, and they donated a lot of money, so their name is there, but they didn’t do anything to deserve their fame. And in fact, they are not famous, even though their names have been preserved.

And then there is a third class of people: the ones who are famous and rightfully so, but hardly anyone except for historians has ever heard of them. Edward Livingston (May 28, 1764 – May 23, 1836) is one of those!

Born into a prominent family, and always involved in public affairs throughout his life, Edward Livingston made valuable contributions in matters of law, diplomacy and warfare. His level of civic involvement was greater than normal for a public figure, and he demonstrated independent thinking, tact, courage in a crisis, loyalty to friends who were in trouble and personal responsibility that went above and beyond the call of duty. Nevertheless, his rise to positions of power was cut short on a number of occasions due to events that were outside his control. In each case, whenever he suffered a difficult loss, Edward Livingston picked himself back up, took responsibility for his own actions and of those who served under him, and managed to work himself back up the ladder. But each such event cost him dearly.

He served as Mayor of New York, United States Attorney for the State of New York, United States Senator from the State of Louisiana, as Secretary of State under President Andrew Jackson and United States Minister to France. Any one of those offices, if held by another person, might have represented an honorable culmination of a successful career.  But somehow, after following Edward Livingston’s life story, one has the feeling that these were all consolation prizes, and that if he hadn’t so often landed in impossible situations by reason of events outside his control, Edward Livingston might easily have been elected president of the United States.

     Livingston’s Ancestry 

 The Livingston family had been prominent for many generations, even before they moved to the new world. Edward Livingston’s ancestor, Sir Alexander Livingstone, was appointed as one of two joint regents during the minority of James II of Scotland, and after the death of James I in 1437. Sir Alexander Livingstone was named as “Keeper of the King’s Person” while his rival, Lord Crichton was made Chancellor. However, Crichton kidnapped the young King and Alexander Livingstone was able, through various “strategems” to restore him to his mother the Queen Dowager. Later, Crichton and Alexander Livingstone became reconciled, and they are even known to have plotted the death of a young Earl of Douglas. (There is a poem about it:)

The Livingstons had a long tradition of maintaining good relations with people from many walks of life. Even before Edward Livingston’s association with Jean Laffite, it was said that it was a Livingston who represented Blackbeard.

 A Fall From Grace

 Edward Livingston’s early life was marked with great success. He graduated from Princeton, passed the New York bar and ran for public office. He stood against the Alien and Sedition Act, which was the equivalent of today’s Patriot Act under the Adams administration.  Livingston was a good friend of Aaron Burr, and was elected a U.S. Representative from the party that elected Jefferson and Burr to office in 1800 (the Democratic-Republicans). He received an appointment from President Jefferson to the post of United States Attorney for the State of New York, at the same time as he was elected as Mayor of New York City. And then a terrible thing happened. An epidemic of yellow fever descended on the the City of New York. Going beyond the call of duty, Livingston went the rounds of the city, seeing if there was anything he could do to relieve the suffering and put a stop to the spread of the disease. In the process, he fell gravely ill himself. When he awoke from his fever, he found that an underling of his had absconded with all the funds of the United States District Attorney office that was under his direction.

Unlike the politicians of today, Edward Livingston understood that anything that was done on his watch was his responsibility, even if he was sick at the time and was not able to supervise. Livingston resigned from both his offices, sold all his possessions, remitted all his fortune to the United States Treasury and pledged to spend the rest of his life earning enough money to pay off the remainder of the debt. Then he left New York and traveled to Louisiana Territory, where he hoped to make his fortune.

Livingston worked hard building a law practice in New Orleans. He married a refugee from St. Domingue. He made new friends in Louisiana Territory and kept up his contact  with old friends. When Aaron Burr went on a tour of Louisiana Territory, drumming up support for his projected expedition into Mexico, one of his hosts was Edward Livingston.

However, when General James Wilkinson charged Burr with plotting treason against the United States, and Thomas Jefferson declared Burr’s guilt in advance of trial, Livingston very narrowly escaped suspicion himself. Because he had owed some money to Aaron Burr, and when presented with a draft drawn on him by Burr to the credit  of Erich Bollman, he immediately paid the debt, Edward Livingston was seen as being financially involved in “the Burr Plot.” Erich Bollman was whisked away to the capital to be interrogated personally by the President without benefit of counsel, but Edward Livingston escaped such a fate.

Nevertheless, Jefferson, who even after Burr’s acquittal, did not relent against his former Vice President, also held a grudge against Livingston. When Livingston received a plot of land called the Batture de Sainte Marie as part of his payment on a title suit he won for a client, Jefferson intervened and confiscated the land, saying that it did not belong to Livingston. When Livingston appealed to the Supreme Court to have the matter adjudged, the case was dismissed for lack of jurisdiction.

Livingston was still trying to pay his off his debt to the United States Treasury. Any money he would have made on the sale the Batture would have been remitted forthwith to the United States government. And yet Jefferson was determined to rob him of any such opportunity to pay down his debt to the nation. Even after Jefferson was no longer the president of the United States, he still published a pamphlet at his own expense to defend his actions against Livingston.


Edward Livingston, even under the most desperate situations, was known for his droll sense of humor. He replied to Jefferson’s tract in a pamphlet of his own, which you can purchase even today on It is well reasoned and not a little funny.

Edward Livingston’s Contributions During the War of 1812

When the War of 1812 broke out, during James Madison’s presidency, New Orleans was a hotbed of political corruption, ethnic strife and at times complete lawlessness.As a result of the Embargo Act, which outlawed international commerce for Americans, and the somewhat less extreme No Intercourse Act that followed it, many smugglers and foreign privateers had made their base in the vicinity, among them Jean and Pierre Laffite. While their initial contribution to the local economy had been to smuggle goods whose exportation and importation had been outlawed, later on the Laffites specialized in privateering against British and Spanish vessels. Instead of commending the privateers for battling against their common enemies, the local authorities, including the Governor and the Revenue Service, deplored the fact that duty was not paid on the goods that the Laffites sold at auction, undercutting local merchants and depriving the United States Treasury of an income.

The British turned to the Laffites for help in capturing New Orleans, but the privateers relayed a copy of the British offer to the Americans, hoping to join forces with them in fighting the British. The local governor turned this information over to Commodore Patterson of the United States Navy, who went on an expedition against the Laffites. Refusng to fight the Americans, the Baratarian privateers retreated and went into hiding and asked for help from the one man who would listen to them: Edward Livingston.

Edward Livingston, unlike most other politicians in New Orleans, recognized the true value of the help offered by the Laffites. He organized a committee of citizens and made direct contact with President Madison and General Andrew Jackson, bypassing the local corruption and negotiating for a concerted effort against the British. Without Edward Livingston’s fair, far sighted intervention, the Battle of New Orleans would in all likelihood have been lost.

Edward Livingston as Jurist and Statesman

Following the war, Livingston was elected to the Louisiana state legislature. From 1821 to 1826, Edward Livingston spent much of his creative and intellectual effort on devising a code of  criminal law for the State of Louisiana. Written in both English and French, it covered the following legal subjects: crimes and punishments, evidence, procedure, and reform. While the “Livingston Code” became well known in Europe  and South America as a model criminal code, it was never passed into law in Louisiana.

Andrew Jackson never forgot Edward Livingston’s service during the War of 1812, and when he became president he appointed him Secretary of State (1831-1833). Livingston also served as minister plenipotentiary to France from 1833 to 1835.

The Legacy of Edward Livingston

Edward Livingston did pay his debt to the Federal Treasury in full. He is an example of a virtuous man and a public servant who actually put public service ahead of any other goal. In an age of corruption, he was able to cut through the labels that were placed on other people (traitor, pirate, criminal) and to see what good there was in each person. Without his help, a lot of innocent men would have been much worse off. Without his help, the country would have fallen to the British.

Is Edward Livingston remembered today? The answer is: yes and no.

The town of Livingston, Guatemala is named after him, largely a result of the popularity of the Livingston Code abroad. Livingston County, Illinois, Livingston County, Michigan, Livingston Parrish, Louisiana, Livingston County, Tennessee and Livingston County, Missouri are all named after Edward  Livingston. Edward Livingston Middle School in New Orleans and Fort Livingston are also named after him. But does anybody remember why? Because if they don’t, he might as well be just another fat cat rich donor who bought his way to fame.

Edward Livingston is one of those famous people that few have heard of who actually did some good. If you want to see an example of a virtuous man in public life, study the life and career of Edward Livingston.

 References and Related Links

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