The Hypomanic Edge: The Link Between (A Little) Craziness and (A Lot of) Success in America

The Hypomanic Edge: The Link Between (A Little) Craziness and (A Lot of) Success in America

by John D. Gartner

Narrated by Stephen R. Thorne

Unabridged — 10 hours, 48 minutes

The Hypomanic Edge: The Link Between (A Little) Craziness and (A Lot of) Success in America

The Hypomanic Edge: The Link Between (A Little) Craziness and (A Lot of) Success in America

by John D. Gartner

Narrated by Stephen R. Thorne

Unabridged — 10 hours, 48 minutes

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Overview

Hypomania, a genetically based mild form of mania, endows many of us with unusual energy, creativity, enthusiasm, and a propensity for taking risks. America has an extraordinarily high number of hypomanics-grandiose types who leap on every wacky idea that occurs to them, utterly convinced it will change the world. Market bubbles and ill-considered messianic crusades can be the downside. But there is an enormous upside in terms of spectacular entrepreneurial zeal, drive for innovation, and material success. Americans may have a lot of crazy ideas, but some of them lead to brilliant inventions.



Bringing his audacious and persuasive thesis to life, Gartner offers case histories of some famous Americans who represent this phenomenon of hypomania. These are the real stories you never learned in school about some of those men who made America: Columbus, who discovered the continent, thought he was the messiah. John Winthrop, who settled and defined it, believed Americans were God's new chosen people. Alexander Hamilton, the indispensable founder who envisioned America's economic future, self-destructed because of pride and impulsive behavior.



While these men are extraordinary examples, Gartner argues that many Americans have inherited the genes that have made them the most successful citizens in the world.

Editorial Reviews

Richard Cohen

It's very interesting - it explains a lot about America.
— The Washington Post

Daniel Gross

Are Americans rich because they're nuts? ...America may be the dominant force in the global economy because we're a nation made of somewhat Crazy Eddies, gonzo businessmen and -women who may be genetically predisposed to take big-time risks. It sounds right.
— Slate

Anne Underwood

Do a google search for 'manic' and 'businessman,' and you get nearly 18,000 hits.... It's not just that these folks are go-getters... many U.S. entrepreneurs actually meet the diagnostic criteria for hypomania, a mild form of mania characterized by restlessness, creativity, grand ambitions, euphoria, risk-taking and impulsivity. The dynamic business environment of this country over the last 200 years has been due largely to people with hypomania.
— Newsweek

Annie Paul

American entrepreneurs are largely hypomanic,' Gartner declares, but the story doesn't begin and end with today's would-be Donald Trumps. The United States is a land of immigrants, he observes, populated by those whose ancestors were energetic and optimistic enough to leave a familiar homeland for strange shores. America's long history of immigration has made it a "hypomanic nation".
— Boston Globe

James H. Bready

Gartner unrolls life stories offering repeated instances of recklessness, grandiosity, innovation: Columbus, John Winthrop, Roger Williams, William Penn, Alexander Hamilton, Andrew Carnegie, Louis B. Mayer and Craig Venter. Gartner extracts some great illustrations: Theodore Roosevelt timed at 50 handshakes a minute; Hollywood producer David O. Selznick smoking five packs a day.
—Baltimore Sun

Violet Carberry

A psycho-biographical examination of how the United States' hopped-up gene pool shaped our national character and gave us a head start to world domination.
— Baltimore City Paper

Publishers Weekly

Diagnosing the psychiatric condition of dead historical figures is risky business, and in a largely unconvincing book, Johns Hopkins psychiatrist Gartner falls prey to the modern tendency to reduce an individual's actions to a psychiatric diagnosis. He argues that hypomania-a mild form of mania-drove many of America's most famous leaders and entrepreneurs to succeed. The characteristics of hypomania include a restless energy channeled into wildly grand ambitions, a tendency toward euphoria and a feeling of being destined to change the world. In nine brief psychobiographies, Gartner imposes this diagnostic scheme on figures ranging from Christopher Columbus and John Winthrop to David O. Selznick and Craig Venter, the genome entrepreneur. He also contends that hypomania is a peculiarly American trait. Applying terms like "depression" and "hypomania" to Winthrop's spiritual ups and downs, for instance, is anachronistic and reductionist. Gartner does provide some proof of his theory with Venter, whose life and work can be scrutinized firsthand, though he hasn't been on Gartner's couch. The author offers us few useful insights into the lives of these historical figures, nor does he seem to have any qualms about framing his case for an "American temperament" solely in male terms. Agent, Betsy Lerner. (Mar.) Copyright 2005 Reed Business Information.

Library Journal

Gartner, a clinical psychologist and psychotherapist (Johns Hopkins Univ. Medical Sch.), defines hypomania as a "temperament characterized by an elevated mood state" that often results in impulsive behavior. Distinct from mania, which Gartner labels an illness because it requires "external control," hypomania produces overachievers who are "brimming with infectious energy, irrational confidence and really big ideas" and "think, talk, move and make decisions quickly." This wide-ranging, popularly written study connects an American propensity for creativity and entrepreneurial initiatives to the disproportionate number of hypomanics that this immigrant nation has absorbed. In an often glib, quip-filled narrative (e.g., "Americans Are from Mars, Other Earthlings Are from Venus"), Gartner analyzes, among others, Christopher Columbus ("a messianic character who may have crossed the line into mania"), John Winthrop, Alexander Hamilton (who the author believes was bipolar), Andrew Carnegie, the Selznick and Mayer families in Hollywood, and Craig Venter, who sequenced the human genome. (Gartner hypothesizes that his hypomanic temperament may have been inherited from his ancestor Meriwether Lewis.) This quick-reading romp through U.S. history produces some stunning insights, simplistic conclusions, and controversial, outrageously exaggerated caricatures. In the end, Gartner states that "hypomanics are on this earth for good reason"; without them, "tomorrow's Christopher Columbuses will never be born, and our descendants won't find their new worlds." For most public and academic libraries.-Jack Forman, San Diego Mesa Coll. Lib. Copyright 2005 Reed Business Information.

Kirkus Reviews

Shhh. The fellow in the next cubicle, the one with all the big ideas who never sleeps, may be a loon. Or, psychiatrist Gartner (Johns Hopkins Univ.) suggests, he may be a not-quite-manic visionary with the power-or at least the will-to change the world. Gartner works the edges of manic-depressive disorder to explore a lesser-known syndrome: hypomania, "a mild form of mania, often found in the relatives of manic depressives." Hypomanics are full of ideas, energy, and sometimes insufferable self-confidence; they make decisions quickly, seldom look back, and generally view those who don't get them as enemies or, at best, mere hindrances. They're not mentally ill, but they're close. So far, so good, but then Gartner wanders onto shaky historical ground. Christopher Columbus, he writes in a short chapter, "the archetype of the American entrepreneur," may have been hypomanic. The evidence? Well, Columbus heard voices, and though he was a genius as a navigator and inspirer of action, he was a poor administrator and communicator who was eventually stripped of title and power-classic stuff. One need not be on the verge of mental illness to make grand claims, of course, and anyone who's read Columbus's memoirs knows that he knew how to work a crowd already inclined to be mystical. Neither does one need to be mad in order to make powerful enemies, as Alexander Hamilton, another of Gartner's exemplars, did. And it may have been just plain old-fashioned monomania that made Andrew Carnegie incapable of understanding why workers were miffed that he was cutting their wages while building palatial libraries on their behalf. Gartner is on surer ground when he discusses more recent figures, such as CraigVenter, the pioneering geneticist who, by Gartner's account, exhibits at least some traits that fit the hypomanic profile: a profile to which America, with its pioneer-spirit ideology, is well suited. Speculative, to be sure, but also engaging, and a refreshingly novel twist on psychohistory.

From the Publisher

""The Hypomanic Edge" reveals a secret history of America, the hidden psychiatric underbelly of legendary successes and the cult of celebrity. John Gartner tells the story with gripping detail and a clinician's authority. After this book, you'll never read the business pages in quite the same way."

--Daniel Goleman, author of "Emotional Intelligence"


"America is a land settled by adventurers and risk takers, and the mania that made it great seems to be bred into its genes. In this provocative and interesting book, John Gartner explores that theory with vivid case studies and an expert's understanding of clinical psychology."

--Walter Isaacson, author of "Benjamin Franklin"

"Finally someone gets it. Through fabulous profiles of the likes of Carnegie, Hamilton, the Selznicks and the Mayers -- my favorites -- John D. Gartner explains how brains hardwired for success, otherwise known as hypomania, have contributed so much to the richness of our great country. Three cheers for Gartner. He recognizes that hypomania is integral to the success of those who challenge every assumption on the way to creating fabulous wealth, brilliant movies, and, yes, even a nation."

-- James Cramer, markets commentator for CNBC and thestreet.com and author of "Confessions of a Street Addict"

Product Details

BN ID: 2940172250316
Publisher: Tantor Audio
Publication date: 12/03/2019
Edition description: Unabridged

Read an Excerpt

The Hypomanic Edge

The Link Between (a Little) Craziness and (a Lot Of) Success in America
By John D. Gartner

Simon & Schuster

Copyright © 2005 John D. Gartner
All right reserved.

ISBN: 0743243447

Chapter 1: Christopher Columbus: Messianic Entrepreneur

Christopher Columbus is the archetype of the American entrepreneur. Like the Internet CEOs of the 1990s, he boasted that he would change the world and get rich doing it. In that respect, you couldn't have picked a better person to find America. Columbus was always a "messianic character," but his special sense of destiny evolved into a grandiose delusional system. Unlike most of the characters in this book, Columbus may have crossed the line into mania.

The Vision

Columbus claimed it was a divine revelation that launched him on his voyage of discovery. "With a hand that could be felt, the Lord opened my mind to the fact that it would be possible to sail from here to the Indies, and he opened my will to desire to accomplish the project." From that moment, the drive to sail west in search of the Far East became "a fire that burned within me." "Continually, without a moment's hesitation, the Scriptures urge me to press forward with great haste."

Columbus claimed he heard celestial voices. And on one occasion, he wrote that the Holy Spirit had spoken to him, announcing, "Godwill cause your name to be wonderfully proclaimed throughout the world...and give you the keys of the gates to the ocean, which are closed with strong chains."

Thirty-nine percent of manic patients report religious revelations similar to those described by Columbus. These patients experience intense feelings of well-being and closeness to God, along with the sense that some great secret truth has been revealed to them. The revelation feels hyperreal -- that is, more real than normal reality. These experiences are remarkably "analogous to the beatific and mystical experiences of saints and other religious leaders," wrote Goodwin and Jamison. They are usually accompanied by the conviction that one has been chosen for a unique mission of cosmic importance. The urgent "sense of moral imperative" to accomplish the mission is intense. Hypomanics also can have revelatory experiences, but unlike the manics, theirs are not accompanied by hallucinations or bizarre grandiose beliefs.

According to Columbus, God assigned him a much greater role in history than just discovering the westward passage to the East. God had predestined Columbus to play a heroic role in the recapture of the Holy Land as well. Columbus proclaimed that he would find large quantities of gold in the Indies, and he urged King Ferdinand and Queen Isabella of Spain to use these funds to recapture Jerusalem.

In the log of his first voyage, he would write to the sovereigns, reminding them of his plan:

I urged your Highness to spend all the profit of this, my enterprise, on the conquest of Jerusalem. And your Highness laughed. And said it would please you and even without that profit you would desire it.

From the very beginning, Columbus clearly had an idea of launching a crusade.

In 1493, he gave himself a new name and began signing documents "Christoferens." This idiosyncratically Latinized version of his name means "Christ-bearer." As if that weren't peculiar enough, "on virtually every thing he signed from 1493 until his death in 1506," he used not a name at all but the mysterious symbol:


.S.

.S.A.S

XMY

Xpo FERENS


It has never been deciphered.

In 1500, after returning from his third voyage, Columbus wrote to a member of the Spanish court:

God made me the messenger of the new heaven and the new earth of which he spoke in the Apocalypse of St. John, after having spoken of it through the mouth of Isaiah; and he showed me the spot where to find it."

The "spot" Columbus was referring to was the entrance to the Garden of Eden, which he claimed to have found in August 1498 off the coast of Venezuela. According to some religious writings, the righteous would once again inhabit this earthly paradise. Thus, Columbus's discovery of Eden satisfied a requirement necessary to prepare the way for the Kingdom of God.

In 1502, during his fourth voyage, he wrote to the king and queen that he had discovered the gold mines of Solomon in modern-day Panama. Solomon had built his Temple in Jerusalem with gold from these mines. Ferdinand and Isabella, Columbus informed them, had been chosen by God to restore the Temple with gold from these same mines.

That year, Columbus assembled The Book of Prophecies -- eighty-four pages of biblical and other religious prophecies that he claimed God had chosen to fulfill through him. By now, Columbus's ideas had crystallized into an elaborate messianic delusional system. Regaining the Holy Land, Columbus's original quest, now became part of an even larger, more ambitious scheme to usher in the Apocalypse -- bringing all of human history to its climactic end. Historian Delno West summarized the logic of The Book of Prophecies:

Secular history would end in 150 years. But before that awesome event three prophesied milestones had to occur: (1) the discovery of the Indies, (2) the conversion of all people, and (3) the recapture and rebuilding of the Holy Temple in Jerusalem. Columbus believed that he was the instrument of Divine Providence who had been chosen for these events.

Columbus's illness clearly progressed, as his thinking became more grandiose. "Although Columbus did regard himself before and after 1492 as a man with a providential mission...in 1501-1502 Columbus linked the crusading tradition to an apocalyptic vision with himself cast in the role of the Messiah." The Book of Prophecies was evidence that Columbus "drifted away from reality" and "turned to mad ravings," according to biographer Gianni Granzotto.

One might think that being God's instrument to redeem human history would be sufficient reward in itself. But Columbus had to get rich off the deal as well, and that was nonnegotiable.

The Pitch

In the 1990s, entrepreneurs seeking financial backing were advised to prepare an "elevator pitch," a fifteen-second sales talk they could deliver to a venture capitalist if they had his ear only for a moment. Billion-dollar deals were made with such speed. Columbus had to make a fifteen-year sales pitch to launch his voyage of discovery. He spent the first eight years trying to get his project off the ground in Portugal. King John's expert advisers correctly informed him that Columbus's calculations were grossly inaccurate. Columbus was, in fact, wrong in many of his basic assumptions. For example, he greatly underestimated the size of the earth and overestimated the size of Asia's eastward extension. Both these miscalculations conveniently made his proposed journey seem much more achievable than it was.

When finally given the opportunity to present his plan to King John, Columbus flattered the king, comparing him to Alexander the Great, Nero, and other great leaders who had commissioned legendary explorations. And he talked excitedly about the gold he would bring back. John's impression of Columbus was that he was "more fanciful and imaginatively inspired than accurate in what he said," according to João de Barros, a faithful chronicler of Portuguese events at the time. In the play El Nuevo Mundo by Lope de Vega, first performed a hundred years later, the king dismisses Columbus, saying "Go get a cure for your insanity!" Columbus was "judged a madman," according to Granzotto.

In hindsight, John's failure to back Columbus appears wildly shortsighted, like passing up a chance to buy Manhattan for $24. But John's assessment of Columbus was not inaccurate. Columbus was driven by "fanciful imagination." Not trusting him was a rational decision.

What was irrational was Columbus's faith in himself. The "certainty of Columbus" has itself been the subject of some scholarly curiosity. "He was a stranger to doubt," wrote Granzotto. Columbus was mystified that others could be so skeptical of his plan to find the Indies by sailing west. Ironically, he didn't find them, though to his dying day he claimed that he had. Had Columbus not been so grandiose, he might have given up on his divine mission.

Instead, Columbus went to Spain. One of his first stops was the Franciscan monastery in La Rabida. The Franciscans had an intense interest in cosmology. One of their most famous friars, Duns Scotus, had been among the first to assert that the world was round. Scotus had dared to disagree with Augustine, who claimed that the world to the east was an uninhabitable void. These Franciscans wanted to prove Duns Scotus right, and Columbus quickly convinced them he was the man to do it. He sketched out his grand vision to Father Antonio de Marchena, a cosmologist well-known at court, and Father Juan Pérez, one of the queen's confessors. They often spoke late into the night, and Columbus converted these priests into true believers. With their support he won the right to make his pitch to the two most powerful monarchs in Europe.

A Night in Córdoba

Columbus had an audience with King Ferdinand and Queen Isabella in May 1486 at their residence in Córdoba. The king is said to have tired quickly and gone to bed, leaving Columbus alone with the queen. Legend has it that a sexual attraction emerged between Isabella and Christopher. They were both thirty-five years old and quite attractive. According to her secretary, Isabella "was blond, with blue-green eyes, a gracious mien, and a lovely, merry face; most dignified in her movements." Columbus was "tall in stature, with an aquiline nose, and hair prematurely white," according to his son Ferdinand, who wrote a biography of his father. Pedro de Las Casas, a contemporary of Columbus who also wrote a biography, stated that he had a "singular grace" that "induced others to see him easily with love." Hypomanics are often charming, persuasive, and attractive.

Beyond any possible sexual attraction, Columbus and Isabella shared a religious passion. Isabella is often described in history books as "devout," but that seems an understatement. Like Columbus, she saw herself playing a global role in the growing ascendancy of Christianity. Isabella launched the Inquisition. She expelled the Jews from Spain, ending hundreds of years of peaceful and mutually profitable coexistence. And she became the first Spanish ruler to drive the Moslems from the Iberian Peninsula in seven hundred years. She was a true Christian crusader.

On this night she met a handsome, exciting, and charming stranger who spoke with inspired confidence about the new lands he would claim for Spain. In one breath, he predicted she could liberate Jerusalem with the gold he would bring her, and in the next he promised to convert the heathen of the new world. They talked deep into the night on that spring evening. Las Casas wrote that "his passionate eloquence when he spoke of the mission God had bid him fulfill, moved the Queen to confidence and sympathy." She allowed the interview to go quite late. "Columbus kept talking. It seemed he would never stop," wrote Granzotto. Hypomanic speech often seems unstoppable. This night, with God's help, Columbus believed his words had worked their magic. He would later write to her, "Everyone made mock of my project....Your Majesty alone gave proof of faith and loyalty, inspired, surely, by the light of the Holy Spirit."

Unfortunately, Columbus's request came at a time when Ferdinand and Isabella were preoccupied with a holy war of their own, against the Moslems. It would have been like "trying to interest Lincoln in a polar expedition when he was in the middle of the Battle of Gettysburg," wrote biographer Samuel Eliot Morison.

"Their majesties took note of his request, received it with gracious countenance, and decided to submit the matter to a committee of learned men," wrote Las Casas. This committee of learned men would become a living purgatory for Christopher Columbus for the next six years, which he would call "years of great anguish."

The Trial of Salamanca

The committee, headed by Father Hernando de Talavera, was made up of some of the most respected theological and scientific scholars of the day. Compared to his inquisitors, Columbus had to admit that he appeared unschooled. "They say that I am not learned in letters, that I am an ignorant sailor, a mundane man." Columbus was not only intellectually outgunned, but, from the perspective of these medieval academics, his case was hopelessly flawed.

On theological grounds, what he proposed flew in the face of accepted dogma. Saint Augustine had said that the region of the world where Columbus proposed to sail was uninhabitable, empty, and so hot that it would incinerate any creature foolish enough to go there. On what authority did Columbus dare contradict Augustine? On scientific grounds, Columbus's calculation of the earth's size was still a gross underestimate, even according to the limited knowledge of the day. Likewise, his assertion that the earth was predominantly covered by land was also wrong and contradicted by existing data. As in the court of King John, Columbus's fuzzy math did little to inspire confidence. Columbus tried to bolster his argument by pointing out that he had been specially chosen by God for this mission, but, as one might expect, this did little to strengthen his case.

In the final weeks of 1490, the committee issued its verdict: "We can find no justification for Their Highnesses' supporting a project that rests on extremely weak foundations and appears impossible to translate into reality to any person with any knowledge, however modest, of these questions." They called his hypotheses "mad" and his errors "colossal."

Despite this damning report, Isabella had not entirely lost faith in Columbus. She left him with a thread of hope. The project would be reconsidered "at a more convenient time," she wrote. That time, Columbus understood, would be when Spain had won her war against the Moslems. But the war dragged on and on, and Columbus's chances seemed to dwindle. In the play by Lope de Vega, Columbus cries out to heaven in frustration, "I am like someone who has wings on his hands and a stone around his ankle."

The Deal

In 1492, Ferdinand and Isabella won their interminable war, totally defeating a Moorish kingdom that had occupied the Iberian Peninsula since 711. The Spanish court was ecstatic. Now it too was in an expansive mood and ready to consider a speculative venture. The queen sent Columbus an invitation to court, along with a purse of coins "so he could dress himself decently, buy a horse and present himself to her Highness." After fifteen years of agony, Columbus's moment had arrived.

The court had moved its military headquarters to Santa Fe, just outside of Granada, where the terms of surrender were being negotiated. Columbus arrived in time to participate in the monarchs' triumphant procession into Granada on January 2, 1492. Columbus saw the royal banners and the Cross raised over the impenetrable towers of the Alhambra, the Moorish mountain fortress. The Moorish king came through the gates and kissed Ferdinand's hand as a supplicant.

Isabella hastily called together a second commission of experts to consider Columbus's plan. They were split in their opinion. But Isabella decided for herself. Her answer was finally...yes!

But instead of being grateful and relieved, Columbus began to dictate "outrageous" terms in a most "arrogant" manner, according to Granzotto. He was a penniless foreigner facing two monarchs at the zenith of their power and glory, yet somehow he seemed to believe that "now it was his turn to call the shots...because they needed him." His hypomanic grandiosity was breathtaking.

First, Columbus demanded a host of noble titles: "He was to be knighted; he was to be a don, he was to be grand admiral; he was to be Viceroy," and "these titles were to remain in the family in perpetuity." How outrageous were these demands? Such concessions were both unprecedented and probably illegal, according to historian Helen Nader: "The granting of hereditary offices, especially to foreigners, went against royal policy; Castilian law prohibited the monarchy from permanently giving away or selling any portions of the royal domain or any royal office." To put Columbus's requests into perspective, only King Ferdinand's uncle held the perpetual offices of admiral and viceroy. Thus, Columbus was explicitly elevating himself to the level of the royal family. "Knowing the great message I bore, I felt myself equal to both crowns," he would later write in his journal. Furthermore, as viceroy governor, Columbus would have had full legal and political control of all the lands he discovered, subject only to the authority of the sovereigns, and his descendants would inherit this power. Columbus was anointing himself prince of the new world.

And finally, Columbus demanded money -- and a lot of it. He insisted on 10 percent ownership of everything he found. Ten percent of the value of all gold, spices, and anything else exported from the lands he discovered would automatically belong to him and his heirs. Columbus was willing to sail into the new world only as the monarchs' full partner.

It was hard to know which was more shocking, the outrageousness of Columbus's demands or the arrogance with which he made them. Historians describe these demands with such words as absurd, mad, inconceivable, and ludicrous. "Moreover," Granzotto wrote, "he flew into a rage at any suggestion that he modify his claims." He refused to even negotiate.

His demands were summarily denied, leaving Columbus nothing to do but leave town. On the verge of achieving it all, he now had only "the night and the day," as the Spanish say of someone who has lost everything. It appeared that his grandiose entitlement had destroyed his fifteen years of work. Columbus had not given up, however. He now had plans to try to sell his idea to the king of France.

Columbus might have slipped into obscurity, were it not for a man who himself has been virtually forgotten by history. Don Luis Santangel changed the sovereigns' minds. "History does not dwell upon him, but without him history would have nothing to say about the discoverer," wrote biographer John Stewart Collis. Sant-angel was a rich Jewish businessman and Spain's much-respected minister of finance. He argued that Spain was in a race with the other European powers for coveted undiscovered western routes to the East. He acknowledged that Columbus's unprecedented demands were offensive but argued that they were not a bad deal for the king and queen. The sovereigns could gain 90 percent of something very valuable, which was worth more than 100 percent of nothing. Furthermore, since Columbus would get nothing if he found nothing, he would have a strong incentive to discover great riches. The potential upside was enormous, and to eliminate the downside Santangel offered to lend the money for the expedition himself (the popular myth that Isabella offered her jewels as collateral is untrue). Finally, Santangel recommended keeping the deal a secret, so that the monarchs wouldn't be embarrassed if the venture failed. If, on the other hand, Columbus returned a hero, they could afford to lavish titles galore upon him. The king and queen ultimately agreed to Columbus's terms, as documented in the resulting contract, appropriately entitled "The Capitulations of Santa Fe."

The queen summoned a fast rider to overtake Columbus on the road. He found Columbus on a bridge heading toward Córdoba and gave him this message: he was to appear before the queen "at once." "Her Highness is ready to conclude the affair."

The sovereigns kept their word, at first. Columbus was made viceroy over the new world. However, he was such a disaster as an administrator that they were later forced to remove him. Columbus also realized some money in the deal, but not as much as he expected, since he did not find the piles of gold he had promised. It was untenable in the long run that one man and his family could own 10 percent of the Spanish colonies. That was a contract made to be broken. Nonetheless, Columbus kept ample documentation, and his family did not settle its claims against the Spanish monarch until the eighteenth century.

Columbus fell short of his divine ambitions. He did not bring down the curtain on human history by ushering in the Apocalypse and establishing God's kingdom on Earth. But he did raise a curtain, one that even he could never have imagined, on the beginning of American history. Had he not been so utterly convinced of his messianic mission, that honor would have gone to someone else.

Copyright © 2005 by John D. Gartner

Continues...


Excerpted from The Hypomanic Edge by John D. Gartner Copyright © 2005 by John D. Gartner. Excerpted by permission.
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