It is almost impossible for me to tell a story without going to the very beginning. When I taught the freshman course of Western Civilization, I started with Australopithecus and worked my way forward. So, today we really have to begin with the Civil War.
The Civil War was, like all wars, far more costly than expected. Congress responded in predictable fashion: it raised taxes, which is pretty much a reflex action, since the typical congressman will want to raise taxes if he sneezes. Then, still short of funds, Congress borrowed money and when this also failed to raise enough money, Congress authorized the printing of currency that was not backed by anything but the faith that the government would eventually exchange the paper currency for gold or silver. Within a very short time, it took $285 of currency to buy $100 in gold.
Economists have a simple description for when any government has two types of official currency. Called Gresham’s Law, it simply states, “Bad money chases out good.” This means that, if the government has issued two types of money, people will hoard the “good” money—defined as the money they trust—so that only the “bad” money will be left in circulation. This is exactly what happened during the Civil War: as unbacked paper currency was introduced, people hoarded silver and gold.
Unfortunately, this also caused a scarcity of silver and gold coins. Silver quarters, dimes, and half-dimes quickly became scarce. (They were called half-dimes since the “nickel”—a coin made of 75% copper and 25% nickel—was not introduced until after the Civil War.). This made regular commercial transactions difficult. A single dollar at that time had the purchasing power of over $40 in today’s economy. You can imagine the difficulty in trying to buy a pack of gum if the smallest bill in circulation today were a $50 bill.
Congress formally authorized the use of postage stamps for government payments in July 1862, but once again, Gresham’s Law kicked in and soon there was a severe shortage of postage stamps.
To solve this problem, Congress turned—once again—to the printing press, and soon issued fractional notes worth 3, 5, 10, 25, and 50 cents each. The government ultimately issued about $369 million in fractional notes between 1862 and 1876.
In 1864, Congress authorized a new printing of 5-cent notes and requested that instead of putting the image of Washington or Jefferson on the note, they honor Clark of the famous Meriwether Lewis and William Clark expedition. The order was sent to the National Currency Bureau, the predecessor of today’s Bureau of Engraving and Printing. And here is where the wicket gets sticky. The superintendent of the bureau was Spencer M. Clark, who promptly saw a golden opportunity—so he produced the new fractional notes with his image instead of that of the famous explorer. Technically, he had done as ordered.
Congress was furious. Representative Martin Thayer of Pennsylvania argued that Treasury officials were abusing their authority to select currency portraits. On April 7, 1866, Congress enacted language providing that,
“No portrait or likeness of any living person hereafter engraved shall be placed” on federal bonds, securities, notes, or fractional currency.
Clark was not the first living official placed on currency—Salmon P. Chase, Francis Spinner, and William Fessenden had also appeared—but Clark’s audacity was the last straw. Congress soon discontinued paper notes worth less than ten cents, and the new five-cent nickel replaced Clark’s paper five-cent bill.
Clark surprisingly kept his position until 1868. His little act of bureaucratic vanity, however, created a rule that supposedly governed American money from that point forward: if you wanted your portrait on U.S. currency, you ordinarily had to kick the bucket first.
Well, no… Reread that law; it does not actually prohibit living people from appearing on coins. Its wording covered federal “bonds, securities, notes, fractional or postal currency”—in other words, paper obligations.
In 1926, to commemorate the 150th anniversary of American independence, Congress authorized a commemorative 50-cent coin portraying George Washington and then president Calvin Coolidge on the obverse and the Liberty Bell on the reverse. Congress authorized up to one million half dollars, which the exposition commission bought at face value and resold for a dollar each.
Having been burned, Congress wanted to keep the nation’s coinage from becoming political advertising. Allowing a sitting president to place his own portrait on government money smacks of kings, emperors, and assorted dictators who have traditionally regarded national mints as their personal publicity departments. Restricting presidential coins to the dead keeps the currency historical and nonpartisan—or at least ensures that its subject is no longer running for office.
So Congress required presidents in the Presidential $1 Coin Program to have been dead for at least two years, providing a cooling-off period before the Mint begins polishing anyone’s reputation. The idea was to honor presidents only after history had begun assessing them, rather than letting current popularity, party control, or presidential vanity determine whose face appeared in Americans’ pockets.
So, it might surprise you to learn that President Trump’s image is going to be on the new $1 coin. He found a couple of loopholes.
The anniversary law prohibits portraits of living people on the reverse of its coins—but neglects to prohibit them on the obverse. Treasury is exploiting that distinction: Trump’s portrait is on the front, while the Presidential Seal appears on the back. Treasury says that makes it legal (although critics contend it violates the law’s obvious intent). The Mint has begun production, with collector rolls and bags expected in late fall 2026.
And yes—there will be lawsuits. And lawyers will mention Clark and Coolidge and the difference between obverse and reverse sides. You have been warned.
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