William Rufus de Vane King(1786~1853) Now we're not talking just good buddies here, sweetie, we're talking major humping for twenty years. William Rufus de Vane King is forgotten by almost everyone but the ever faithful and salacious boyblue. A specialist in First Lady dirt, Carl Sferrazza Anthony, got things going again with his discovery of two letters to Buchanan from Rufey, which have appeared in other books since the 1970s. boyblue hasn't gotten his mitts on those yet (any surfer got a copy?) but when he does, they will be immediately posted here in his little shrine to Billy Rufe. After Rufey helped write the Alabama state constitution, he was elected to be senator from Alabama. He seems to have been a rather potent one. I mean as a SENATOR, you slut. He naturally was looking after the best interests of slaveholders, not too different from certain oil governors and presidents who faithfully tend the affairs of oil companies as well as their own. One of Ol' Bucky's (1791-1868) claims to fame is that he was the United States' first "bachelor" president. We know what that means now, don't we kiddies? When he was in his 20s, he worked as a lawyer in Lancaster, Pennsylvania, where he met and became engaged to a very young lady named Ann Coleman whose father conveniently enough was probably the richest man in America. For some mysterious reason, she broke off the engagement suddenly, however, and conveniently died soon thereafter, maybe even a suicide. Ol' Bucky recovered in about three days but remained unmarried for the rest of his natural life, a marital state which didn't seem to bother him any. He "enjoyed a 20-year intimate friendship with another bachelor, William Rufus de Vane King. The two men met as U. S. senators in 1834.... They shared quarters in Washington, D.C., for many years, and Buchanan called their relationship a 'communion.'" Boy, I'll say! I just wonder who knelt first when they did "communion." A lot of the Washington crowd didn't cotton to the Alabama cotton queen. Andy Jackson, another president and noted for his sour temperament and his own marriage to a whore, dubbed him "Miss Nancy." Aaron Brown, a major Democrat, called him "Aunt Fancy" and Buchanan's "better half." In a private letter, Brown referred to King as "she" and "her." (Is there nothing new?) A law partner of James K. Polk labeled them Mr. and Mrs. Buchanan. Despite Rufey's more obvious qualifications to be named queen, he was elected as Franklin Pierce's Veep in 1852 on the pro-slavery ticket. He was a compromise candidate to please the Southern slaveholders. One does wonder just what Rufey did with all those slaves of his. Even though he was in fact ol' massa, I just wonder if he always assumed that role with the slaves. But a veil of dark silence has been drawn across this smoldering page of history and we'll just never know, chil'ren, what carryings on went on down on the ol' plantation. I'm quite sure they didn't sit around the camp fire and tell Uncle Remus tales all the time. Now comes the ever so sad part of the story. After Rufey was elected but before he could get sworn in, he gets awful sick with tuberculosis, rather common in those days what with chamber pots under every bed and all. So he up and goes to Havana to take the cure. I have no idea what the cure was, probably a hot latin tamale every hour on the hour or something. While he is being cured in Havana, congress is nice enough to pass a law permitting him to take the oath of office while he's in Cuba. So he does that at Ariadna, a plantation he was visiting there owned by a Colonel John Chartrand in Matanazas, Cuba. He remains our only offshore Veep to this very day. He returns to his own plantation six weeks after becoming Veep and promptly dies the day after returning to the plantation. Such a waste. Just think of what Washington society lost. Now comes the funny part. His family gets in a terrible tizzy over what to do with the body when he keels over. No one wants it buried anywhere near them. Finally they bury him at the plantation and then move him to the city cemetery near Cahaba, which is an old settlement near Selma, Albama, known for another King who marched through there once. You know, the one King County, Washington is named for. To this day you can see Rufey's grave vault there, with southern moss dripping all around, looking terribly decadent and aristocratic and Southeren. He lies alone in his tomb. Let us shed a sad Victorian tear for poor, all but forgotten Billy Rufe, our only semi-out Veep. Actually, he was at least dimly remembered for a while. King County, Washington, home of Seattle was named for him. You may think it rather odd such a county should be named for Rufe, but it was. Trust me on this. It isn't any more. Some clever dudes in 1986 decided it wasn't fitting to have the quintesstial techie county to be named for a Southern slave-owning queen. So they officially renamed the county in honor of Martin Luther King, Jr. They didn't even have to change the stationery. Now wasn't that clever? So now it's up to those of us who adore perverted history to keep the flame alive for Rufey and so many others who have been wiped out of the tomes that give you the "nice" version of history. The truth is more fun. |