Death by Lightning Recap: The Least-Qualified Candidate on Earth

Death by Lightning
Casus Belli
Season 1 Episode 3
Editor’s Rating ★★★★
Previous Next
Previous Episode
Next Episode

As we speed through what feels like a conspicuously short miniseries — more on that thought in a bit — the first three episodes of Death by Lightning have started to coalesce around a single theme: accessibility to government. That is the promise of the James Garfield administration, which seeks to restore the public trust by eliminating the spoils system and literally opening the White House doors to constituents. It is also a basic threat to security: When any deranged opportunist can simply knock on the door of a national politician or talk his way into an audience with the president himself, instances of violence become inevitable. An assassination is not the “death by lightning” that Garfield laughs off but a more common shock, like death by static electricity.

In the series, Charles Guiteau’s physical access to Garfield has become a metaphor for the relationship ordinary citizens have to the democracy that’s supposed to represent them. That doesn’t mean Guiteau doesn’t deserve the contempt he receives from every supposed “gatekeeper” he comes across, but Americans throughout history — like, say, now for example — have often felt a disconnect between their wants and needs and the actions of those they have elected. Although we see him fighting against these political headwinds throughout the series, especially in this gripping episode, Garfield is sincere in wanting to bridge that distance as much as he can. In practical terms, meeting with unvetted and frequently delusional constituents five days a week becomes impossible to sustain. But when it comes time to pick his political battles, accessibility is where he chooses to stand and fight. 

But first, “Casus Belli” opens with a lively pre-credits sequence in Oneida, New York, ten years earlier, when Guiteau is logging his fifth uncomfortable year as part of John Humphrey Noyes’s spiritual-perfectionist sex cult in the countryside. In a compound that experiments with “free love,” Guiteau is so charismatically penniless that it’s a price he still cannot afford. The women have named him Charles Gitout for the many times they’ve rejected him in favor of other men in the community. That’s to say nothing of his other habits, like taking “more than his fair share at meals” or “spying with lust” on copulating couples. Guiteau’s pattern is to chase rejection with revenge. “Menial farm work and casual fucking may satisfy this bunch,” he tells the group. “But there is a greater destiny out there for me. Mark my words, my name will be known one day all across this country.” 

Two insidious forms of government access converge on Inauguration Night as Garfield and Lucretia navigate a party that makes them both uncomfortable. With Kate Sprague, the two-timing wife of Rhode Island governor William Sprague, on his arm (the Spragues would divorce a year later as news of their affair spread), Roscoe Conkling turns up to remind James Blaine that his support for Garfield’s campaign comes with a fee. (“You better remind our man Garfield just who it was that saved his campaign at the 11th hour while he was off slinging pig shit in Ohio and you were licking your wounds,” he tells Blaine.) The show’s depiction of Blaine, bolstered by Bradley Whitford’s most compelling performance in a while, is that of a system politician who speaks Conkling’s language but finds himself convinced of Garfield’s idealism. It’s bad politics for Garfield to want to clean up the system, and Blaine knows it. But there’s a hidden, idealistic part of him that seems inspired by the new president. 

Meanwhile, in a chilling exchange in the rafters, Lucretia is off trying to take stock of this role she didn’t wish for herself when Guiteau slips next to her from the shadows. He disarms her with a joke about the stifling black-tie affair (“I blame the formal attire. It makes it awfully difficult to use a toilet”) and some encouragement about making the best of her situation. But he soon unnerves her with a pushy sales pitch and a mysterious spot of blood on her clothes. It turns out Guiteau is an uninvited guest who has smashed his way through the East Wing, which is an impressive piece of unintentional commentary on the show’s part. Before the authorities can drag him out, however, Guiteau continues to ingratiate himself with Chester Arthur, who’s a cheerful-enough drunk to greet Guiteau with enthusiasm but too wasted to realize he should give him the brush-off. That’s a critical piece of the Guiteau story given that he will come to believe he’s acting on Arthur’s behalf.

During the first weeks of his presidency, Garfield struggles to assert his political will at the White House. He insists on allotting time every day to meet with constituents. It’s an admirable gesture to ordinary citizens, but the result is a lobby that fills up every day with unvetted men, including Guiteau, pushing for agendas and political appointments that aren’t remotely in the cards. (Maybe it’s Nick Offerman’s presence on the show, but Garfield’s meetings recall the deranged Pawnee town halls occasionally held on Parks and Recreation.) At the same time, Garfield is trying to assemble a Cabinet to support his reform of the spoils system but naturally runs afoul of Conkling, who gets his secret list of proposed appointees straight from Arthur.

While Conkling makes the expected move of threatening Garfield’s appointees until they remove themselves from consideration, Death by Lightning keeps the focus on Arthur, the more dynamic of the two men. Once Garfield realizes his own vice-president is selling him out, there’s a great confrontation in Arthur’s office where this forced political marriage starts to show the potential for a more authentic relationship. Garfield is furious at Arthur, of course, calling him “without a doubt the least-qualified candidate on earth for this role,” despite that role mostly being kissing babies and “playing Santa at the holiday party.” But Garfield also mentions Arthur’s past as a lawyer who represented the poor and disenfranchised and wonders how he could have pivoted to machine politics. Perhaps there’s some way Garfield could appeal to his vice-president’s better angels.

While Garfield resolves to stand up to Conkling, a member of his own party — the extraordinary line “Of course I deprecate war, but if it’s brought to my door, the bringer will find me at home” is quoted in Candice Millard’s book from Garfield’s diary — he cannot anticipate the sucker punch that will soon end his life. The episode dramatizes a scene between Garfield and Guiteau at the White House that exposes a fascinating contrast between the two, with Guiteau fumbling as if given an audience with God himself and Garfield modestly questioning Guiteau’s understanding of “greatness.” Garfield is diplomatic in managing a constituent who’s vulnerable but plainly unhinged, but their meeting is cut short and ends without Guiteau getting what he wants. So it’s on to plan B. 

Which leads me to this not so minor quibble: How in the world hasn’t Garfield been shot yet? There’s only one episode of Death by Lightning remaining and so much story left to tell, given the amount of time it took for Garfield to die and the controversies over the quality of his care. The finale is relatively supersized at 66 minutes, a solid 14 minutes longer than any other episode, but it seems poised to be a frantic finish.

Conklings

• Fun fact about Blanche K. Bruce, the Mississippi senator whom Frederick Douglass introduces to Garfield at the inauguration party: His then-1-year-old son was named Roscoe Conkling Bruce after the New York politician who mentored him. 

• A future political assassin pausing to admire Lincoln’s top hat is perhaps a little too on the nose for this show. 

• “Poor bastard. He has no clue he’s already dead”: Conkling’s line about Garfield implies a different kind of assassination in the making, as if he’s on the grassy knoll while Guiteau is up at the book depository. 

• There’s a real blink-or-you’ll-miss-it near-death situation for Lucretia in this episode. The show can’t possibly cover everything that happened in the time available, but it’s giving her short shrift. 

• Guiteau’s bitter letter to the president in the wake of his appointment and Blaine’s dismissal of him has an ironic tone. Any reasonable person would conclude Guiteau has had alarmingly abundant access to Garfield, Arthur, and Blaine. He even knocks directly on the latter’s door in the middle of the night. Yet he whines about access: “You lied to us. All you’ve done is reinforce the gate.” History’s smallest tyrants are hard to please.