Sometimes, my readers and editors accuse me – rightly so – of being a bit too concise in my writing. With few exceptions, I prefer my articles to be “bite-sized,” going no more than 1600 or so words. I figure that if I can’t articulate an idea in a decent manner in that amount of space, I probably also wouldn’t be able to do so in twice as much, and I want to be conscious of my readers’ time, especially when they might be reading about a place or idea about which they previously knew nothing and have little desire to visit.

If only William Henry Harrison, ninth President of the United States, shared my viewpoint. On Thursday, March 4, 1841, Harrison gave the longest inaugural address in American history, at an astonishing 8445 words. The speech took nearly two hours on a cold, rainy Washington morning, and Harrison famously declined to wear an overcoat for appearances’ sake. Exactly one month later, on April 4, President William Henry Harrison died of pneumonia.

William Henry Harrison will forever be a trivia answer. He was the shortest serving President, and the first to die in office. But here, just west of Cincinnati in North Bend, Ohio, a monument stands over the tomb of a man who had a career that spanned longer than just the one month of his presidency, and seeks both to maintain that place of sacred burial and to educate the public on the exploits, mainly negative in this writer’s opinion, of a man Ohio claims as the state’s first President, despite his being born in Virginia.

William Henry Harrison was born in Virginia in 1773, the son of Benjamin Harrison V, who would sign the Declaration of Independence. (More Harrison trivia: he was the last President born under British rule.) He pursued a military-political career path, alternating officer commissions in various campaigns against American Indian tribes with political appointments (and elected positions) gained largely by his marriage to the daughter of John Cleves Symmes, who was one of the largest landowners in western Ohio and Indiana (then the Northwest Territory). He was the first Governor of Indiana Territory (appointed by John Adams) in 1801, and served in both the House and Senate in Ohio.

But it is Harrison’s military career that drove his ascent to the top of the 1840 Presidential ticket for the Whig Party. And despite serving as a major general in the War of 1812 – apparently with some distinction – it is his battles against the Shawnee in the prior years (1811 specifically, as we will see in a moment) that brought him fame.

In 1810, William Henry Harrison was governor of Indiana Territory, while simultaneously holding an active commission in the army as it was fighting native tribes on the then-outskirts of the U.S. The Shawnee, under the command of Tecumseh and the “Prophet” Tenskwatawa, attacked Harrison’s garrison after repeated efforts to negotiate treaties were rebuffed by the Americans. Following victory in the battle, Harrison led his men to sack Prophetstown, destroying food reserves, ultimately leading to mass starvation among the tribe. The battle, known as Tippecanoe, launched William Henry Harrison into rockstar status nationwide, and especially in what is now the Midwest.

Following his term in Indiana, Harrison moved here, to North Bend, a tiny town built by his father-in-law where the Miami River meets the Ohio. And here he would alternate between political acclaim, with terms in the U.S. House of Representatives and Senate, and complete obscurity. He was just a local clerk when the Whig Party approached him to run as one of four regional presidential candidates in 1936. The point of this was to figure out who could ultimately challenge for the presidency in the following (1840) election. Harrison finished second, but came out with his popularity vastly increased.

The 1840 campaign attempted to portray William Henry Harrison as a frontier man of the people, calling back to his war hero days against the Shawnee. The slogan “Tippecanoe and Tyler Too” substituted the battle for Harrison’s name, with his running mate John Tyler being almost an afterthought. Unpopular incumbent Martin Van Buren was seen as an out of touch elite, although Harrison’s finances were probably much greater. Regardless, the Whigs prevailed handily, 234 electoral votes to 60. William Henry Harrison was elected president, wrote a long speech, gave it in the rain, caught pneumonia, died, and so here we are.

The site of William Henry Harrison Tomb State Memorial consists of two parts. First is the tomb itself, which was renovated in 1919 by the State of Ohio, which operates and maintains the site. The second is a small series of informational panels about the life and career of Harrison, which is next to the small parking lot. There is an overgrown nature trail connecting the two, or a paved sidewalk. I chose the latter.

As best as I can tell, there are three notable burials inside the base of the monument. First is, obviously, President William Henry Harrison. Second is his wife, Anna. Finally is their son, John Scott Harrison, who lived here on the family farm and whose son, Benjamin, would become the 23rd U.S. President in 1889.

(There is a sign in front of a house in the small town marking the birthplace of Benjamin, but the home it is in front of is much newer.)

It takes about fifteen minutes to see the site, but it is worth spending another few to walk across the street to Congress Green State Cemetery. Here, many of the other Harrison and Symmes relations were buried, along with others dating back to those who served in the American Revolution, though most graves are overgrown and unmarked. It is more a reminder of what John Cleves Symmes wished North Bend to be: a frontier town of importance. That dream never came to pass, as Cincinnati, several miles to the east, dominated the region.

It is hard to say that William Henry Harrison was a president of importance, as a term of a month means little was able to be accomplished. But he is an American of importance, as well as the answer to some fun trivia questions, and a visit to his tomb is a short but interesting outing in the Cincinnati area. But if you go on a rainy day, wear an overcoat. And speak quickly.

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