History of its Founding

1873

On September 16, 1873, following the Annual Meeting, members and guests attended an Anniversary Dinner,  given by General Robert Patterson, at his mansion on Locust Street in "Center City" Philadelphia.  While there, these former comrades in arms gathered on Gen. Patterson's porch to have their picture taken.

Patterson's mansion at 13th and Locust Streets is now home to the Pennsylvania Historical Society although much of the original structure is now gone.  It was known as the "little white marble palace".  The mirrors in its drawing room once belonged to George Washington and its marble mantles were once owned by Joseph Bonaparte, the brother of the Emperor Napoleon.

There probably was not another home in Philadelphia in which so many distinguished Americans of the three generations following the American Revolution had gathered.  General Patterson knew all, and entertained most, of the Presidents of the United States, from Jefferson to Garfield.  He was still a young man when he took part in receiving Lafayette, and later Monroe.  In the prime of his life he stood by the side of Andrew Jackson on the day when the Philadelphia democracy threw open the town to "Old Hickory"; and when James K. Polk came to the city, while President, the dinner and great ball at the Patterson mansion closed the festal tributes to the Tennessee statesman.

An account of that meeting, published in 1902, stated:

 My grandfather was a member of the Aztec Club, which was organized during the occupation of the City of Mexico by the American officers who had stormed the capital; and on the occasion of one of its annual meetings, which that year was held in Philadelphia, I was permitted to accompany him to that city.  It was the longest journey from home I had ever taken, and each incident of it is still clearly fixed in my mind.

 The event of the reunion was a dinner given at the house of General Patterson, and on the morning before the dinner the members of the Club were invited to assemble in the garden which surrounded his house.  To this meeting my grandfather conducted me, and I found myself surrounded by the very men of whom he had so often spoken.

 I was very frightened, and I confess I was surprised and greatly disappointed also to find that they were old and gray-haired men, and not the young and dashing warriors he had described.  General Patterson alone did not disappoint me, for even at that late date he wore a blue coat with brass buttons and a buff waistcoat and high black stock.  He had a strong, fine profile and was smooth shaven.  I remember I found him exactly my ideal of the Duke of Wellington; for though I was only then ten or twelve years of age, I had my own ideas about every soldier from Alexander and Von Moltke to our own Captain Custer.

 It was in the garden behind the Patterson house that we met the General, and he alarmed me very much by pulling my shoulders back and asking me my age, and whether or not I expected to be as brave a soldier as my grandfather, to which latter question I said, "Yes, General," and then could have cried with mortification, for all of the great soldiers laughed at me.  One of them turned, and said to the only one who was seated, "That is Hamilton's grandson."  The man who was seated did not impress me very much.  He was younger than the others.  He wore a black suit and a black tie, and the three upper buttons of his waistcoat were unfastened.  His beard was close-cropped, like a blacking-brush, and he was chewing on a cigar that had burned so far down that I remember wondering why it did not scorch his mustache.  And then, as I stood staring up at him and he down at me, it came over me who he was, and I can recall even now how my heart seemed to jump, and I felt terribly frightened and as though I was going to cry.  My grandfather bowed to the younger man in the courteous, old-fashioned manner he always observed, and said: "General, this is my grandchild, Captain Macklin's boy.  When he grows up I want him to be able to say he has met you.  I am going to send him to West Point."

 The man in the chair nodded his head at my grandfather, and took his cigar from his mouth and said, "When he's ready to enter, remind me, let me know," and closed his lips again on his cigar, as though he had missed it even during that short space of time.  But had he made a long oration neither my grandfather nor I could have been more deeply moved.  My grandfather said: "Thank you, General.  It is very kind of you," and led me away so proudly that it was beautiful to see him.  When we entered the house he stopped, and bending over me, asked, "Do you know who that was, boy?"  But with the awe of the moment still heavy upon me I could only nod and gasp at him.

 "That was General Grant," my grandfather said.

 "Yes, I know," I whispered.

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