250 and Counting

That the Southwick Broadside version of the Declaration of Independence isn’t as famous as the Dunlap Broadside shouldn’t be a surprise, since the Dunlap is the first one, and the one on which all the others are based. The the Southwick has the wrong date on it is an interesting nugget of information. It’s worth noting, however, that while John Dunlap spent the better part of the night of July 4 setting the type, making a copy, making corrections, rinse and repeat, there are still mistakes on his as well. Some copies are on the “wrong” side of the paper (i.e. the watermark is reversed). Some have ink smudges, as though they were folded or rolled up before the ink was quite dry, and according to Ted Widmer in an Op-Ed he wrote for the New York Times (soft paywalled link), the punctuation doesn’t necessarily agree from one copy to another. Historians have identified nineteen different versions of the Declaration of Independence printed around that time, though there may be a few more idenfied since that initial survey, which was in the late 1940s. Of those nineteen, 71 copies were known to exist. That said, when the survey was published, only 14 of those copies were the Dunlap Broadside. Now that there are 26 Dunlaps, we’re up to 84 contemporary copies of the Declaration, with another few whose provenance or source are unknown. Interestingly, three copies of the Dunlap Broadside are in the hands of the British. One was seized by Richard Howe in New York, another accidentally fell into Howe’s hands while he was on Staten Island, and the third one was part of a larger Customs seizure from a man named Jonas Phillips, who was sending a box of documents to Great Britain from Philadelphia in late July 1776. Phillips’ note to his relative in Britain was in Yiddish, which the Customs agents thought was a code, so he seized the documents without examining them. It was only a couple of years ago that the contents were examined and identified. Accidents of history, I tell you what. For what it’s worth, only seven copies of the Southwick Declaration are known to exist today. The post Rhode Island Gets The Declaration–July 13, 1776 appeared first on 250 and Counting.

In the play/film 1776, John Dickinson is portrayed as a Loyalist from the Pennsylvania Colony whose goal is to obstruct any efforts at achieving Independence. When his efforts fail, he resigns from the Congress and leaves, though John Adams publicly admires his integrity before Dickinson departs. (Leave us alone; 1776 is a delightful film and we both like it, plus it’s many people’s only lens for viewing the story of that time.) As usual, however, the truth is far more complicated than could be well-conveyed, especially when cramming several weeks’ worth of story into 168 minutes. So let’s dive in a little bit. Dickinson, to begin with, actually represented the Delaware colony, whose delegates were divided on the cause of Independence. But remember that Delaware and Pennsylvania were the same colony as far as Britain was concerned. Now, Dickinson argued that while the British Parliament had the right to regulate trade in Europe, they did not have the right to raise revenue via taxing the Colonies; furthermore if the Colonies didn’t resist this, then Parliament would only push their agenda further. But while he felt that the Colonies had the right to seek redress for whatever grievances they had, AND he felt that the Colonies were right in defending themselves against the British, they did not have the right to separate themselves from Britain. Part of this stand involved the fact that Dickinson was immersed in Quaker beliefs for most of his life, though he never officially joined a Quaker meeting. Now, because it had been previously agreed by the Congress that no man could serve without signing the Declaration, Dickinson stuck to his principles and voluntarily left, but he did join the Pennsylvania/Delaware militia afterward, though he never actually saw combat. It’s also worth reminding you that the Declaration was still largely unsigned at this point, and would remain so for a few more weeks, so it’s not a contradiction that he was working on a new Constitution at this point. Dickinson was re-appointed to the Continental Congress in 1779 and he did sign the Articles of Confederation, which arose from the document submitted by his committee on this day in 1776. John Dickinson was a complex and fascinating man, and you can learn a lot about him by visiting the John Dickinson Plantation, part of First State National Historical Park. The post The Constitution’s First Draft–July 12, 1776 appeared first on 250 and Counting.

White Plains, New York, calls itself the birthplace of the State of New York, and this day in 1776 is the reason why. The provincial congress, having fled New York City to White Plains, received a copy of the Declaration of Independence and immediately approved it, then resolved to change their name from “The Provincial Congress of the Colony of New York” to “The Convention of Representatives of the STATE of New York.” Thus, when the Declaration was read aloud to an assembled crowd a short time later, it was the first time it had been read in New York State. The earlier reading in New York City didn’t count for that, because New York was still technically a colony. (And sticklers know that “technically correct” is the best kind of correct. Sticklers also get beat up a lot…um, I’ve heard. ) About today’s cover art: the image that we used on the July 3 episode is also a depiction of Judge Thomas reading the Declaration to the people of White Plains, which is why it’s titled “Birth of the State of New York.” This is a different angle of the same event, created around the same time as the other image, by the same artist. Mr. Harker got some mileage out of this day and he wasn’t even there. The post New York Becomes A State–July 11, 1776 appeared first on 250 and Counting.

Samuel Powell is another one of those early Representatives in our government about whom little is known from a legislative standpoint. We have odd details noting that he became a lawyer “prior to 1800” because we don’t really know how he got there. And another detail that we have about Samuel Powell is that, after his one and only term, he was not a candidate to be renominated in 1816. But there’s no reason why cited in most sources. Did he lose a primary? Maybe. Did he choose not to run? Possibly. Was that the last gasp of the Democratic-Republicans? Mmm, probably not; they were still around until 1824, at which point they split into separate factions. We do know that he missed 31 of 113 roll call votes, about 27.4%, which is higher than average. In his first year he missed 25% of votes and in his second year it went up to 31.7%. So even in his first year he missed more than typical. So it’s possible that he was elected for a cynical reason—to gain recognition and some name power. Once he had that, it was recommended that he walk away, so he did. This is entirely speculation on my part, though. The post Samuel Powell–July 10, 1776 appeared first on 250 and Counting.

When a statue of King George III was pulled down in New York, it was a good sign for the city, since there were times that it felt that the spirit of Independence was rather squashed by the sight of the British fleet, which was still arriving. A brief digression: several years ago (ugh, longer ago than I care to remember) I took the opportunity to visit the City of the Museum of New York. It’s quite a cool museum that has hundreds of thousands of objects in its collection, with several thousands on display at any given time. They currently have a special exhibit called The Occupied City, which deals with New York City during the early years of the American Revolution. According to an article I recently read in Smithsonian Magazine, which provided some of my research material for today’s episode, the Museum of the City of New York has, as part of this exhibit, an opportunity to virtually pull down the statue of King George III. Who can pass up something like that? No kidding, if you’re in Manhattan, budget yourself a few hours to see this museum. You’re guaranteed to learn a lot of fascinating things. Then head on over to the New York Historical Society. They already pulled down their statue of King George III (today, in fact), but there’s still plenty to see and do. They’re on opposite sides of Central Park and about 30 blocks apart, but if you do it in that order, you’ll end your day close to Zabar’s and that’s a whole other experience for you. Man, I miss living in New York. The post Down With The King–July 9, 1776 appeared first on 250 and Counting.

The Battle of Gwynn’s Island doesn’t seem to get much attention these days, which is a shame because it was rather important at the time. First, Lord Dunmore, the former Royal Governor of Virginia, had been there since May, having retreated there after the bombardment of Norfolk in January. The Patriots made their lives very difficult, so after a few weeks the British bailed out of Norfolk and headed to Gwynn’s Island to regroup. They were about 2000 men in all, including British army regulars and Loyalists. They were spotted by a lookout (the distance across the narrows at this time was only about 200 yards, after all) and the Patriots began harassing the British on the island, but the British began firing back and many militiamen decided it wasn’t worth the effort, so they deserted. The Continental Army soldiers, on the other hand, mostly just got used to it. Dunmore had a fort built and they settled in behind the fortifications, but 2000 people on a relatively undeveloped island of four square miles, with inadequate water supplies, meant that disease ran rampant, killing about a third of the men, most of whom were Black. When Andrew Lewis arrived with the bigger guns and began blowing the fort to bits, Dunmore realized it was time to evacuate. It was a few more weeks until he left America altogether. In the meantime, with the British entirely out of Virginia, the Continental Army was able to move north to New York to assist with George Washington’s troops there. The post Battle of Gwynn’s Island–July 8, 1776 appeared first on 250 and Counting.

William Howe had already been in New York for a little over a week when he wrote to George Germain from his Staten Island headquarters. Not everyone had yet arrived from Halifax, of course; it was a long trip and the ships moved at different speeds. Howe took the time to detail what troops and ships had already arrived in New York, and what was still enroute, and that he was awaiting some more reinforcements before acting in full. I presume that he was as detailed as he was because he was dispatching the letter to George Germain immediately via a packet ship, and the American Navy wasn’t really in a position at that point to intercept anything; otherwise they would have had a lot of actionable information about troop movements and their plans. On the other hand, George Washington (and a few others) had already figured out what the British were up to, but at this point they were at a little bit of a loss regarding how they were going to counter it. Part of the problem was that the troops were still fighting more or less defensively. They didn’t have a specific cause to fight for. But in another couple of days, they would have that. It wouldn’t really help in the short run here, but it worked wonders in the end. The post Howe Checks In–July 7, 1776 appeared first on 250 and Counting.

The Pennsylvania Evening Post is an interesting study in media relations and what a publication sometimes has to do in order to survive. The Post was America’s first daily newspaper, but early on it published three times a week, on Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays. They were generally supportive of the Revolution and published pro-Patriot articles. As Mike explains, it was through a quirk of their publishing schedule that the Post was able to publish the text of the Declaration of Independence before anyone else, but the war got worse before it got better, and as things progressed into 1778 and the British occupied Philadelphia, they simply shifted gears, publishing Loyalist opinions and British-positive stories. All the other Patriot newspapers in town ceased operating. The crazy part of this is, because of their sudden political shift, the Supreme Executive Council of the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania placed its publisher, Benjamin Towne, on a list of traitors. Because the other printers had not returned to the city, the list was printed in The Post! Some of this activity did lead to public controversy and a drop in revenue. Towne resorted to selling the newspaper via hawkers (the people on street corners in old movies hollering “Extra! Read all about it!” and such), but the Pennsylvania Evening Post ultimately shut down in 1784. The post Some Big News–July 6, 1776 appeared first on 250 and Counting.

In the biography of Bernard Smith in today’s episode, it was noted that he spent a couple of years as the Collector of Customs in 1809 and 1810. Which set up the question for me: what does a Collector of Customs do? My guess wasn’t too far off, tell the truth. The Collector of Customs assesses import duties and tariffs, enforces trade laws and regulates goods moving across international borders. My research didn’t turn up where he worked, but it could have been in New York. On the other hand, the Customs House in Linwood (near Atlantic City) was fairly new at the time so that could have been the location. At that time, tariffs and duties were the primary source of revenue for the US Government. Federal income taxes weren’t levied until 1861 for a few years, and then permanently in 1913. At any rate, after Bernard Smith put in his time with the Sixteenth Congress, he was register of the land office in Little Rock, Arkansas, then secretary to the governor of Arkansaw, and finally an agent to the Quapaw Nation until his death in 1835, shortly after his 59th birthday. The post Bernard Smith–July 5, 1776 appeared first on 250 and Counting.

In CONGRESS, July 4, 1776. The unanimous Declaration of the thirteen united States of America, When in the Course of human events, it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the political bands which have connected them with another, and to assume among the powers of the earth, the separate and equal station to which the Laws of Nature and of Nature’s God entitle them, a decent respect to the opinions of mankind requires that they should declare the causes which impel them to the separation. We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.—That to secure these rights, Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed,—That whenever any Form of Government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the Right of the People to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new Government, laying its foundation on such principles and organizing its powers in such form, as to them shall seem most likely to effect their Safety and Happiness. Prudence, indeed, will dictate that Governments long established should not be changed for light and transient causes; and accordingly all experience hath shewn, that mankind are more disposed to suffer, while evils are sufferable, than to right themselves by abolishing the forms to which they are accustomed. But when a long train of abuses and usurpations, pursuing invariably the same Object evinces a design to reduce them under absolute Despotism, it is their right, it is their duty, to throw off such Government, and to provide new Guards for their future security. Such has been the patient sufferance of these Colonies; and such is now the necessity which constrains them to alter their former Systems of Government. The history of the present King of Great Britain is a history of repeated injuries and usurpations, all having in direct object the establishment of an absolute Tyranny over these States. To prove this, let Facts be submitted to a candid world. He has refused his Assent to Laws, the most wholesome and necessary for the public good. He has forbidden his Governors to pass Laws of immediate and pressing importance, unless suspended in their operation till his Assent should be obtained; and when so suspended, he has utterly neglected to attend to them. He has refused to pass other Laws for the accommodation of large districts of people, unless those people would relinquish the right of Representation in the Legislature, a right inestimable to them and formidable to tyrants only. He has called together legislative bodies at places unusual, uncomfortable, and distant from the depository of their Public Records, for the sole purpose of fatiguing them into compliance with his measures. He has dissolved Representative Houses repeatedly, for opposing with manly firmness his invasions on the rights of the people. He has refused for a long time, after such dissolutions, to cause others to be elected, whereby the Legislative Powers, incapable of Annihilation, have returned to the People at large for their exercise; the State remaining in the meantime exposed to all the dangers of invasion from without, and convulsions within. He has endeavoured to prevent the population of these States; for that purpose obstructing the Laws for Naturalization of Foreigners; refusing to pass others to encourage their migrations hither, and raising the conditions of new Appropriations of Lands. He has obstructed the Administration of Justice by refusing his Assent to Laws for establishing Judiciary Powers. He has made Judges dependent on his Will alone for the tenure of their offices, and the amount and payment of their salaries. He has erected a multitude of New Offices, and sent hither swarms of Officers to harass our people and eat out their substance. He has kept among us, in times of peace, Standing Armies without the Consent of our legislatures. He has affected to render the Military independent of and superior to the Civil Power. He has combined with others to subject us to a jurisdiction foreign to our constitution, and unacknowledged by our laws; giving his Assent to their Acts of pretended Legislation: For quartering large bodies of armed troops among us: For protecting them, by a mock Trial from punishment for any Murders which they should commit on the Inhabitants of these States: For cutting off our Trade with all parts of the world: For imposing Taxes on us without our Consent: For depriving us in many cases, of the benefit of Trial by Jury: For transporting us beyond Seas to be tried for pretended offences: For abolishing the free System of English Laws in a neighbouring Province, establishing therein an Arbitrary government, and enlarging its Boundaries so as to render it at once an example and fit instrument for introducing the same absolute rule into these Colonies: For taking away our Charters, abolishing our most valuable Laws and altering fundamentally the Forms of our Governments: For suspending our own Legislatures, and declaring themselves invested with power to legislate for us in all cases whatsoever. He has abdicated Government here, by declaring us out of his Protection and waging War against us. He has plundered our seas, ravaged our coasts, burnt our towns, and destroyed the lives of our people. He is at this time transporting large Armies of foreign Mercenaries to compleat the works of death, desolation, and tyranny, already begun with circumstances of Cruelty & Perfidy scarcely paralleled in the most barbarous ages, and totally unworthy the Head of a civilized nation. He has constrained our fellow Citizens taken Captive on the high Seas to bear Arms against their Country, to become the executioners of their friends and Brethren, or to fall themselves by their Hands. He has excited domestic insurrections amongst us, and has endeavoured to bring on the inhabitants of our frontiers, the merciless Indian Savages whose known rule of warfare, is an undistinguished destruction of all ages, sexes and conditions. In every stage of these Oppressions We have Petitioned for Redress in the most humble terms: Our repeated Petitions have been answered only by repeated injury. A Prince, whose character is thus marked by every act which may define a Tyrant, is unfit to be the ruler of a free people. Nor have We been wanting in attentions to our British brethren. We have warned them from time to time of attempts by their legislature to extend an unwarrantable jurisdiction over us. We have reminded them of the circumstances of our emigration and settlement here. We have appealed to their native justice and magnanimity, and we have conjured them by the ties of our common kindred to disavow these usurpations, which, would inevitably interrupt our connections and correspondence. They too have been deaf to the voice of justice and of consanguinity. We must, therefore, acquiesce in the necessity, which denounces our Separation, and hold them, as we hold the rest of mankind, Enemies in War, in Peace Friends. We, therefore, the Representatives of the united States of America, in General Congress, Assembled, appealing to the Supreme Judge of the world for the rectitude of our intentions, do, in the Name, and by Authority of the good People of these Colonies, solemnly publish and declare, That these United Colonies are, and of Right ought to be Free and Independent States; that they are Absolved from all Allegiance to the British Crown, and that all political connection between them and the State of Great Britain, is and ought to be totally dissolved; and that as Free and Independent States, they have full Power to levy War, conclude Peace, contract Alliances, establish Commerce, and to do all other Acts and Things which Independent States may of right do. And for the support of this Declaration, with a firm reliance on the protection of divine Providence, we mutually pledge to each other our Lives, our Fortunes and our sacred Honor. New Hampshire: Josiah Bartlett, William Whipple, Matthew ThorntonMassachusetts: Samuel Adams, John Adams, John Hancock, Robert Treat Paine, Elbridge GerryRhode Island: Stephen Hopkins, William ElleryConnecticut: Roger Sherman, Samuel Huntington, William Williams, Oliver WolcottNew York: William Floyd, Philip Livingston, Francis Lewis, Lewis MorrisNew Jersey: Richard Stockton, John Witherspoon, Francis Hopkinson, John Hart, Abraham ClarkPennsylvania: Robert Morris, Benjamin Rush, Benjamin Franklin, John Morton, George Clymer, James Smith, George Taylor, James Wilson, George RossDelaware: George Read, Caesar Rodney, Thomas McKeanMaryland: Samuel Chase, William Paca, Thomas Stone, Charles Carroll of CarrolltonVirginia: George Wythe, Richard Henry Lee, Thomas Jefferson, Benjamin Harrison, Thomas Nelson Jr., Francis Lightfoot Lee, Carter BraxtonNorth Carolina: William Hooper, Joseph Hewes, John PennSouth Carolina: Edward Rutledge, Thomas Heyward Jr., Thomas Lynch Jr., Arthur MiddletonGeorgia: Button Gwinnett, Lyman Hall, George Walton The post Bonus Episode: The Declaration appeared first on 250 and Counting.

Happy Independence Day! I don’t know if we ever mentioned this, but People of a Certain Age may remember that back in the Bicentennial Days, on our television every night during the 8:00 PM hour there was a one-minute (two, if you count the commercial) which offered up some snippet of history from that day 200 years previous, told to us by a famous person (whose identity changed every day). Here’s a YouTube playlist of the shows, if you’re curious. (One of the videos is a 20-minute collection of ads, and another is a straight-up recorded hour of CBS television, but you’ll get the idea.) Does that sound familiar? It should. The “Bicentennial Minute,” as it was usually called, ran from July 1974 to 1976, and was meant to end on July 4, 1976, but instead ran through the end of that year. So they did 912 episodes. At any rate, this was the inspiration for 250 and Counting. I wanted to revive the Bicentennial Minute in podcast form. Now, there was a lot of anticipation as we got closer to July 4, 1976/1776, because after all, that was the big day, yes? The July 4 episode was narrated by First Lady Betty Ford. But of course, the Lee Resolution had already been approved, the editing of the document was yesterday, the signing of the finished Declaration wouldn’t happen for some time…all there was for Independence Day was the vote to approve the Declaration as edited, so it wound up being a little anticlimactic. (We did try to warn you about not getting too excited. Learn From My Fail and all that.) Mike and I have committed to 729 episodes, from January 1, 2025 through the end of this year. After that, who knows? Maybe we’ll keep it up, maybe we’ll move on to another project. That largely depends on your level of interest. But there’s still lots of American History to look into as word gets out about this bold step our Founding Fathers took, and the repercussions for the war. We still have a couple of major battles to deal with (Long Island and Trenton, NJ come immediately to mind), the launching of the first military submarine attack, the Cherokee-American Wars are heating up, and so much more. We hope you’ll continue to ride with us. And thank you for riding so far. The post Independence Day–July 4, 1776 appeared first on 250 and Counting.

In the play/film 1776, with nearly every vote cast throughout the show, a delegate from New York (Lewis Morris) steps up to announce New York’s abstention from the vote, “courteously.” It’s played for comedy, and at one point even the explanation is rendered comedic, when Morris tells the assembled delegates that the members of the legislature in New York “speak very fast and very loud, and nobody listens to anybody else with the result that nothing ever gets done.” He also says that the New York legislature has never given him explicit instructions. Now, the first thing may or may not be true (I’m from New York, so it’s possible), but the second item is not, as you learn in today’s episode. When it came to the question of Independence, New York did, in fact, abstain. And they were probably courteous about it besides. But New York’s abstention from the votes, over and over, were derived from explicit instructions, not their absence. The post Why New York Abstained–July 3, 1776 appeared first on 250 and Counting.

It’s been twenty-five days since the Lee Resolution was introduced, asking the delegates of the Continental Congress to vote for Independence from Great Britain. Some of the delegates returned to their homes to get the formal instructions in the affirmative, others stayed behind and worked on drafting a Declaration. Finally all the stars have aligned, and the votes come in: twelve in favor, none against, and one abstention. (In tomorrow’s episode we’ll talk about why that abstention happened.) This was a huge move on the part of the Continental Congress; people like to say that it hadn’t been done before, but that’s not quite correct. San Marino broke away from the Roman Empire in the year 301. But since then it had only happened five times, and while one or two of the others also involved bloodshed, the other new nations weren’t under threats of treason and the punishments associated with that particular crime. So it wasn’t quite unique, but it also wasn’t something that was common. And breaking away from the British Empire? Well, that had certainly never been done before. In being asked to vote for Independence, these men were literally putting their lives on the line, and that’s the thing it’s important not to forget. The post The Question Is Called–July 2, 1776 appeared first on 250 and Counting.

The Chickamauga Wars, also known as the Cherokee-American Wars, was really just an escalation of the hostile relationship between Americans and the Cherokee tribe. The problem really started during the French and Indian War, which ran from 1758-1761. During that war, British forces simply destroyed many Cherokee towns, which were never reoccupied. Some treaties were signed after the war, and then boundaries established, but the colonists resented those boundaries. They showed their resentment by largely ignoring them, forcing officials in charge of Indian Affairs to put together new treaties with new boundaries. Go figure, those didn’t work either. Things got ugly in 1773 when Daniel Boone led about 50 settlers through the Cumberland Gap. Natives from several tribes descended on a foraging/scouting party, capturing them and then ritually torturing them to death. Among the dead was Boone’s son James. Tensions continued to rise until this day in 1776, when they escalated into full-scale raids and battles which came in fits and starts, and then would settle into long periods of no activity. This went on into the 1790s before the Army came in with a major offensive, forcing the Cherokees to back down and seek a peace treaty, formally ending the Chickamauga Wars. The post The Chickamauga Wars–July 1, 1776 appeared first on 250 and Counting.

Setting new Continental Army rules was oftentimes rather tough, because at that time the enlistments were relatively short. Soldiers would get trained, of course, but because they were undisciplined they didn’t always stay trained, and then their enlistment would be up and now it’s time to train the next set of guys and hope some of it sticks. The Continental Army rules that were approved today were designed to affect soldiers’ overall behavior, perhaps in the hope that comporting themselves appropriately would lead to a more disciplined man in general. This met with limited success (that is, not much). Interestingly, when Baron von Steuben came along later in the year, the company that he led was visibly different from the others encamped at Valley Forge, with regard to drills, self-policing and preparedness, and it was likely this that caught George Washington’s eye and led to von Steuben writing the manual that Mike cites in today’s episode. The post New Rules For The Army–June 30, 1776 appeared first on 250 and Counting.

The Constitution of the Commonwealth of Virginia, more commonly known as the Virginia Constitution, was formally adopted on this day in 1776, after months of work. Most of the credit for its overall structure goes to James Madison and George Mason, both of whom also worked on the US Constitution in later years. And like any good living document, it’s been through several large-scale amendments, in 1830, 1851, 1864, 1870, 1902 and 1971. Nearly all of these were in response to periods of major regional or social upheaval in Virginia. (Gee…I wonder what happened in 1864 that necessitated a Constitutional Convention?) In between, there have been minor amendments to ensure that the Virginia Constitution conforms to changes in Federal law. For instance, an amendment was passed in 2006 defining marriage as being a union “between one man and one woman” (because they didn’t learn anything from the Loving v. Virginia decision?)but was subsequently overturned by Obergefell v. Hodges in 2015. The Virginia Constitution is still subject to criticism that the legislature may still be too powerful, but it’s actually easier to amend the document through citizen votes than through a Constitutional Convention. Go figure. The post Virginia Adopts A Constitution–June 29, 1776 appeared first on 250 and Counting.

The Battle of Sullivan’s Island was part of Great Britain’s first attempt to take the city of Charleston, South Carolina. Unfortunately for the British, too many things went wrong for them, and there were logistical problems that they somehow hadn’t accounted for as well. Sullivan’s Island was (is, really) not an impressive piece of land. It’s a barrier island that’s a couple of miles long but only a couple of hundred feet wide. But because of its location at the mouth of Charleston Bay, it was an ideal place from which to defend the city. Now, if you look at a modern-day map of the bay, you’ll see Fort Sumter in the dead center of the bay’s channel. Fort Sumter, however, was little more than a sand bar in 1776, and was artificially built up in the 1830s so that the fort could be constructed there. Insterestingly, although Fort Sumter gets credit for the first shots of the Civil War, the structure was never finished. Construction began in 1829 and hadn’t been completed as of 1861, when the war started. Oddly enough, when the Battle of Sullivan’s Island took place, Fort Moultrie wasn’t completed either. Then in 1798 the Army decided that it needed updating, so they started over, building a new structure atop the old one. That fort was destroyed in a storm in 1804 and was rebuilt again in 1809. During the Civil War it was reduced to rubble by Union forces but was rebuilt again in the 1870s. Fort Moultrie was taken out of service in 1947, then decommissioned and became part of the National Park Service in 1960. The post The Battle of Sullivan’s Island–June 28, 1776 appeared first on 250 and Counting.

Today’s episode covers a couple of events that took place today, and a couple that will take place tomorrow, largely because there isn’t a ton to say about any of them but they are noteworthy. Also, I wanted to clear the deck a little bit so that Mike can concentrate on events in South Carolina. We start with a letter that Joseph Hawley wrote to George Washington about potential troop movements, though to our heads it’s a little bit of odd advice. We visit the Committee of Five, which has a homework assignment due tomorrow, and they’re working frantically to finish it. Like so many group projects, only a few of them are really working here, while all five are going to get the grade for it. Yeah, we’re on to you, Sherman and Livingston. We finish the saga of Thomas Hickey, which started here only yesterday. There’s some confusion about the specific date, so be gentle with us for splitting the difference. And we finish in Maryland, where Samuel Chase manages to get the job done. Now it’s back to Philadelphia to cast a vote. The post Notes From Around The Colonies–June 27, 1776 appeared first on 250 and Counting.

That New York had a strong contingent of Loyalists was never a secret in 1776, but chances are that George Washington never thought one of his bodyguards, Thomas Hickey, was one of them. Hickey was a private in the Continental Army, which meant that he was part of a group that not only protected George Washington, but the Army’s local cache of money. At one point he was arrested for passing counterfeit money and it was while he was in jail that word got back to Washington that Hickey was planning to switch sides as soon as the British got there. So Hickey betrayed both the General and the currency he’d been assigned to protect. About the cover art: many years later, a story came out that was written by Washington’s grandson (more accurately, Martha Washington’s grandson) George Washington Parke Custis, that Washington was in danger of being killed by an insider via poisoning. After Custis died, his memoirs were published by his daughter Mary Anna Custis Lee, with extensive notes added by an antiquarian. According to this account: When Washington and his army occupied the city, in the summer of 1776, the chief resided at Richmond Hill, a little out of town, afterward the seat of Aaron Burr. [Samuel] Fraunces’s daughter was Washington’s housekeeper, and she saved his life on one occasion, by exposing the intentions of Hickey, one of the Life-Guard (already mentioned), who was about to murder the general, by putting poison in a dish of peas prepared for his table. Who alerted Washington to the poisoned peas varies from one account to another, and given a bunch of the details (which I’ve largely omitted here), it’s very likely that the story is apocryphal. The post Hickey Leaves A Bad Mark–June 26, 1776 appeared first on 250 and Counting.

The big story today is about the Pennsylvania Delegation finally getting new orders, but I admit that I buried the lede on this one, largely because the Board of War and Ordnance had a lot going on, and the Pennsylvania story was a relatively simple one to tell. But as you can tell in today’s episode, the note we gave you the other day about the sheer volume of material they had to deal with is evident in the minutes of the Continental Congress for today; what’s more, a bunch of it was items that needed to be addressed immediately, so the business of the Congress was halted for several hours until the Board could report back. But the fact that the Pennsylvanian government had finally gotten past whatever they needed to get past, made it possible for the Pennsylvania Delegation to be able to vote in the affirmative on the question of Independence, which left exactly one colony about to vote “Yes” and another one unable to do so. And that’s something we’ll talk about in just a few days. The post A Busy Day In Congress–June 25, 1776 appeared first on 250 and Counting.

As Mike notes, we haven’t talked about the Royal Governor of New Jersey, William Franklin, in quite some time. But matters were quickly coming to a head, and it was decided that he needed to be imprisoned. The biggest reason for this is that he not only remained loyal to the Crown, he actively reported to the British anything he heard about American movements and plans. William Franklin was finally placed under house arrest in January for these shenanigans, but as things heated up and New Jersey replaced its provincial government, it was determined that he still posed a threat to operational security, and he was sent to Connecticut for imprisonment. And, as Mike also tells you, even prison in Connecticut wasn’t quite getting the job done. I guess we have to admire his ability to commit to the bit. The post Prison For Governor Franklin–June 24, 1776 appeared first on 250 and Counting.

That Admiral Richard Howe maintained some sympathies for the Colonists in the earlier years of his career might be overselling it a little bit. Howe did have some sympathies, but when he and his brother, General William Howe, met with the Committee of Safety headed by Benjamin Franklin, the idea was to quash the idea of revolution and effect a return to status quo. When that failed, Admiral Howe was the first to hoist the Jolly Roger. Okay, he didn’t do that exactly, but he was fully prepared to do whatever he needed to do to end the situation. And that’s probably why he moved up in the ranks so quickly between 1770 and 1776. He’d already shown his competence in the Seven Years’ War, and now he was proving himself again. Howe’s plan to blockade ships entering major harbors might have worked in the long run, but those plans were interrupted when John Burgoyne’s troops were captured, forcing Richard Howe to winter in Rhode Island. In recent years there have been suggestions that Howe’s blockades were less successful in the northern colonies because he was allowing ships to get through, accidentally on purpose as they say. Is it possible that he was letting those sympathies get the better of him? It’s actually tough to say for sure. The post Howe Readies For NY–June 23, 1776 appeared first on 250 and Counting.

How the Jersey Five got its name isn’t especially mysterious, but what’s interesting is that one of the Five, Abraham Clark (pictured in the cover art), was not a new delegate to the Continental Congress. In fact, he was the only one retained because he was also the only delegate who was in favor of Independence. So when the new Provincial Congress took over in New Jersey, they retained Clark and appointed new delegates around him. And thus was the Jersey Five born. Clark is the namesake of the New Jersey township just south and west of Newark, and that’s pretty cool. But Richard Stockton has a rest area on the New Jersey Turnpike named after him, so there’s that. For what it’s worth, Francis Hopkinson left New Jersey shortly after signing the Declaration, so he doesn’t have a lot of legacy there. John Hart has several streets bearing his name, and John Witherspoon has memorials all over the state, so I guess he wins this contest I just now invented. The post New Jersey Votes Yes–June 22, 1776 appeared first on 250 and Counting.

We’ve spent a bunch of episodes describing a day in the life of the Second Continental Congress, and many of them were almost exclusively dealing with military matters. In January 1776 George Washington recommended that the Congress designate a specific office for these dealings, and Edward Rutledge picked up the idea and suggested it to the Congress. It took a little time, but the Congress ultimately agreed and set up a Board of War and Ordnance, which began operating on this day in 1776. The original Board of War and Ordnance was five delegates to the Congress, plus a secretary who wasn’t a delegate. After only a few months they recognized that they couldn’t do their jobs as delegates and keep up with the War workload, so they had themselves replaced with a permanent Board. The Board operated until the war ended, after which it was dissolved, but the logo (see cover art) persisted in the War Department until 1880. Incidentally, note the Phrygian Cap in the artwork. We haven’t talked about that in a while, but in those days the Cap was a universally-recognized symbol of freedom dating back to ancient Rome, when it was given to former slaves. In the Revolutionary Era, it specifically symbolized freedom from British tyranny. The post Board of War and Ordnance–June 21, 1776 appeared first on 250 and Counting.

Please forgive Mike’s pronunciation of “Natick”; he’s a Left Coast guy. And, he took his wife to Hawai’i this week. I never did that for my wife, though I did buy her a beach condo, so I guess we’re even. Plus, if I’m butchering any West Coast pronunciations, he’s keeping quiet about it. For the most part we’ve both got the language so baked into our heads that it never occurs to us that the other one might not know how to say things. And let’s face it, a lot of place names don’t always make sense when it comes to pronunciation. At any rate, while we focus on Natick here, it should be noted that towns all over Massachusetts, and in fact other places, were beginning to do this on their own. But they didn’t have Thomas Jefferson putting their documents through multiple drafts. We’ll need to talk about some of that later on as we get closer to the big day. The post Natick Makes It Official–June 20, 1776 appeared first on 250 and Counting.

Let’s start with the truth: Francis Johnson was not in office when the building in today’s cover art opened. This is the Old State Capitol in Frankfort, Kentucky, which opened in 1827, just after he left the US Congress. But while this is the Old State Capitol, there are two buildings even older which were used; unfortunately both of them burned down, hence this stone edifice, one presumes. You kind of have to feel badly in the long run when stuff like this happens. It feels a little bit like the universe is trying its best to wipe this guy from history. Even his specific birthplace is unknown, and the graveyard where he was interred is a public playground. (I’m going to presume it’s been paved over, yes?) But the fact is, once we’re gone we begin to accumulate anonymity unless something extraordinary happens to you or by you. Not meaning to be a downer; it’s just what they call a shower thought. P.S. if your download is wonky or if you’re having trouble with the website this week, please get in touch with me at [email protected]; I’d be most appreciative. I had a bit of a time getting this post to play nice. The post Francis Johnson–June 19, 1776 appeared first on 250 and Counting.

As Mike notes, marking today as the day that the first draft of the Declaration of Independence was presented to Congress is largely a matter of interpoloation on the part of historians working from incomplete information. But who are we to argue? The writing you see in today’s cover art is, in fact, Thomas Jefferson’s, mostly. Some of it is corrections made by Benjamin Franklin. It’s also worth noting that this image came from Wikimedia Commons and is color-adjusted. The original image has the paper looking much whiter, but the parchment coloring makes for a little bit better contrast against the ink. Incidentally, some documents from this era do look very good still while others are quite faded. The original Declaration of Independence, for example, is rather faded. This is because over time, the ink oxidized from black to a brownish color. In addition, it was displayed under relatively bright light for many years, and the ultraviolet radiation from those lights further faded the ink. The specific paper can also have an effect; some documents are written on a kind of cotton rag, which allows the ink to “bleed” over time and start to look rather smeared, whereas other documents written on vellum (which was basically calfskin) hold their shape better. In both cases the color holds better unless UV gets to it. Oddly enough, paper from the 19th through mid-20th centuries made use of wood pulp, which turns color and becomes more brittle over time, and is more acidic, which will damage the ink as well. So it’s possible that there could be a “hole” in our historical records unless steps are taken to preserve, or at least digitize, some of them. The post The First Draft–June 18, 1776 appeared first on 250 and Counting.

Joseph Joachin Moraga along with a party of colonists and soldiers first set forth from Monterey to the future site of San Francisco, along with supplies for beginning a new community. He supervised the selection of a location for the presidio (fortress), then managed its construction and provided leadership. He also ensured that a ramada—a roof ssupported by poles—was built, which eventually became Mission Dolores. For all his work, Joseph Joachin Moraga is considered the founder of San Francisco. But he wasn’t done there; the following year he founded a second mission in Santa Clara, and a third one in 1778 that became San Jose. Bottom line: if this guy isn’t prominent in local history classes, then something is seriously wrong. Moraga’s youth and education are rather hazy, but he kept extensive journals so he could read and write; in fact some of the research for today’s episode came from his written account of the trip, which can be found here. Given that he wrote it nearly two years later, there’s a remarkable level of detail here. The post The San Francisco Journey–June 17, 1776 appeared first on 250 and Counting.

Loyalty oaths are a peculiar thing. They ask a person to commit in writing a thing they may–or may not–have done already. Look, if you’re an undercover spy staring at children from across the street, you’re already raising more questions than answers. But if—IF—you’re an undercover spy and you want to lay low, for goodness’ sake, find a plausible lie and stick to it. You don’t go off sacrificing yourself to the Greater Cause. The post A Test In Rhode Island–June 16, 1776 appeared first on 250 and Counting.

Separation Day is a genuine holiday in Delaware, during which the day is marked with parades and historical reenactments, though of course they (like the rest of the world) took a couple of years off because we had that little global pandemic thing. And like most good niche holidays, there’s a small faction of people who call themselves “Unificationists,” most of whom can trace their roots back to the Finns, Swedes and Quakers who settled in the region before 1776. Their message is that Delaware, as a whole, oversells the Separation Day thing. They also like to hold demonstrations advocating for a “Reunification Day”, which would mark a re-joining with Pennsylvania. Those folks are acting facetiously. Mostly. What do Pennsylvanians think about Separation Day? Most of them don’t care, since most of Pennsylvania didn’t exist until later on. Also, most of them had no idea that Delaware was once part of Pennsylvania. And the ones who do care, usually cite family or cultural connections that cross the border. (It just occurred to me that this also puts a little more credence into former President Biden’s claim of a kind of dual citizenship.) At any rate, it’s more of an observance day than anything else. Nobody’s getting a paid day off for it. I’m not even sure whether the local Hallmark store offers “Happy Separation Day” cards to send to friends and family. (Or is it “Merry Separation Day”? I can never keep it straight.) The post Delaware, The First State–June 15, 1776 appeared first on 250 and Counting.

It’s not a misspelling; it’s a pun—oh, forget it. Connecticut had already been fighting the war for independence since Bunker Hill, but that’s not the same thing as separating politically from Great Britain. In retrospect, we made it look relatively easy, but once again, remember: something like this hadn’t been done before, and sending instructions to their delegates to vote in favor of Independence was literally directing them to commit an act of treason. So let’s give the individual colonies a little bit of grace, here. Now, New York is going to bump into a different kind of trouble, but we’ll talk about that in a few days. (It was a little bit funny though, right?) The post Connecticut Goes Fourth–June 14, 1776 appeared first on 250 and Counting.

The life of Elizabeth Scott is an open book and is still quite mysterious. It’s not 100% clear when she was born, other than it was “probably” in 1708. Her personal life isn’t very well known, and her work as a hymnist is still a matter of speculation, since so many of her pieces didn’t have her name on them, for some reason. It’s only been through careful analysis of known pieces that we’ve been able to put her name to the unknown pieces. Many of her known works are in the hands of Yale College, and are in manuscript rather than print, so they date back to the 1740s. Most of them are signed simply “S” or “Scott” rather than “Elizabeth Scott,” but those pieces have had a good chain of custody that they can be considered authentic. Interestingly, the plate that appears in today’s cover art is mounted into a grave table, which is a stone table (i.e. a table top and four legs with some opening between it and the ground) standing over her grave. The grave of her second husband is nearby, but it’s marked with a simple stone. The post Elizabeth Scott–June 13, 1776 appeared first on 250 and Counting.

While the Virginia Declaration of Rights wasn’t adopted until today, and Thomas Jefferson only got started on writing the Declaration of Independence yesterday, it’s known that the Virginia document was one of the few references that Jefferson had with him when he first began writing. The other one we know about for sure is the draft of the Virginia Constitution, which Jefferson himself had written. The Virginia Declaration of Rights not only served as a big chunk of Jefferson’s inspiration for the Declaration of Independence, you can definitely see echoes of it in the US Constitution, particularly the Bill of Rights. (In fact, if you read Section 13 of the Virginia Declaration, you’ll see the heart of the more contentious language from the Constitution’s Second Amendment.) The big difference between the Virginia Declaration and the Constitution is that the Constitution is the actual law, whereas George Mason’s document is more prescriptive (e.g. thus-and-such should happen, or this ought to be the situation.) Follow the links above and do a little compare-and-contrast. You might have fun! The post The Virginia Declaration of Rights–June 12, 1776 appeared first on 250 and Counting.

After temporarily tabling the Lee Resolution, which called for our independence from Great Britain, the Second Continental Congress identified its Declaration Committee. Five men were chosen to articulate why we were asking King George to go screw himself in the politest possible terms. While the Committee involved five men—John Adams, Benjamin Franklin, Thomas Jefferson, Roger Sherman and Robert Livingston—most of the work fell to three of them: Jefferson, Adams and Franklin. Jefferson spent a few days working on the first draft in isolation, then Adams and Franklin began reviewing and revising his work. The Declaration Committee worked steadily for over two weeks before presenting their finished product to the Congress, though John Hancock did get to see an earlier draft. The post The Declaration Begins–June 11, 1776 appeared first on 250 and Counting.

With the Lee Resolution on hold for the time being, but still a very real thing, the Continental Congress needed to get organized with regard to how this was going to be presented and effected. As we told you a few days ago, some delegates needed hard instructions. Others needed a little more clarity regarding the structure. Still others determined that a formal declaration was necessary. Why? You have to remember, this kind of thing had never been done before. And even though some other nations saw what was going on and were sympathetic in some way, it was still necessary for us to lay out the argument, and in such a way that the entire world could look at it and say “Well yeah, that makes sense.” (Maybe not in so many words; they probably said archaic stuff like “ye” or something, but you get the idea. Also: catch me on a slow show notes day and I’ll dive into the whole “ye” thing.) Now, you may be wondering why Lee’s proposal was presented on the 7th and only on the 10th did they decide that a Declaration Committee was necessary? I have two reasons off the top of my head. First, June 7th, 1776 was a Friday, and while they did do some business on Saturday, the whole thing needed greater consideration so it was probably tabled to the 10th. Second, remember we’ve been telling you for many months that the Second Continental Congress was a very thoughtful, deliberate body of men. They considered many, many things before making decisions, and it’s likely that they had to arrive at consensus regarding the need for a declaration at all. So in that respect it does make sense. And tomorrow, while one guy gets most of the credit, we’re going to meet all of the men responsible for the declaration. The post Who Wants To Write A Declaration?–June 10, 1776 appeared first on 250 and Counting.

It was a busy day for corresponding with George Washington on this day, as three letters to Washington were sent. Each one had a bit of information that was negative at its worst and neutral at its best. But these letters were a bit of a problem, in that information took so long to get from one place to another: by the time Washington received warning that British troops were enroute, they were thisclose to actually being there. On the other hand, both sides are equally disadvantaged by the time lag, and Washington was shrewd enough to find a way to take advantage of that, as we’ll discover. The post News From All Over–June 9, 1776 appeared first on 250 and Counting.

As a nation, we should be able to face our failures as squarely as we crow our triumphs, and make no mistake: the invasion of, and withdrawal from Canada was a botched effort from one end to the other. Perhaps the only thing that kept it from being a bigger deal was the distraction a few weeks later of the Colonies delcaring themselves to be states independent from Great Britain. We barely had an army that had any idea of how to provision its forces, yet we sent a bunch of them to the north anyway, far from home and no easy way to get there or back. We started this invasion in a blizzard! And, perhaps even worse, our withdrawal from Canada suddenly left us open to a potential invasion from the north by British troops. I realize that I have the benefit of 250 years of hindsight on this, but this really does feel like one of those things where people said “We have to see this through to the end, which will be glorious,” and then nearly six months later, when it all falls apart, the same people say, “Wow, it was so obvious.” (forgive me, I’m having a cynical day.) The post Finally Bailing Out Of Canada–June 8, 1776 appeared first on 250 and Counting.

It was one of the last major steps before the Declaration, and it happened on this day. The Lee Resolution, as it came to be known, was named after Richard Henry Lee, delegate from Virginia, who was given instructions from his government to propose that the Colonies become designated as free and independent states. Now, because some of the delegates didn’t have specific instructions on the Lee Resolution, and because Congress had long ago decided that votes needed to be unanimous, the vote was postponed for three weeks to give everyone an opportunity to get instructions from home. It took 26 days rather than 21 to get everyone to the point of voting, with the exception of New York, which was under instructions not to vote at all, so they abstained from voting until mid-July, at which point they finally also cast their Yes vote because a new legislative body was in place. The post The Question is Called–June 7, 1776 appeared first on 250 and Counting.

Mike is having a big day today (that is, his son is having a big day), so apologies for the delay in getting today’s episode to you, and thanks for your patience. William Reed was from Marblehead, Massachusetts, and while Mike has said about all there is to say, I thought I’d talk about Marblehead a little bit. I had an aunt who lived there when I was a small child (under 10 or so). I don’t know when she moved there, but when I visited she’d already picked up a strong local accent (pahk the cah and all like that). Now, Mike told you a little about Marblehead’s importance as a mariner’s town, and the docks are lovely to see as a tourist, to be sure. But the thing that really impressed me—if we’re being totally honest here—is that the town hall/museum there is the home of the famous painting The Spirit of ’76, a/k/a Yankee Doodle, by Archibald Willard, and at right here. It’s a terribly famous painting and most people don’t know who the artist was. Again: ARCHIBALD WILLARD. The other impressive thing about this painting is that it’s not nearly as big as you think it is. It’s about 18 x 24 inches. And even though there are photos of young me, alongside my grandparents (who took younger me on this visit), even in my memory it’s a big painting, despite knowing that it isn’t. The Mandela Effect…boy, I don’t know. The post William Reed–June 6, 1776 appeared first on 250 and Counting.

Using the input of George Washington from just a few days earlier, the Second Continental Congress wasted little time putting together some Continental Army protocols to ensure that this relatively ragtag group of men would adhere to some kind of formalized behavior. But the Continental Army protocols they worked on also helped to establish better pay for some personnel, or set up protocol ranks for some otherwise non-officer personnel. And, of course, getting everyone paid was important so they talked about that as well. And as we creep closer to a formal declaration announcing the break with Britain, more Congressional delegates are convinced that reconciliation was always on the table, at least until quite recently. Robert Morris wrote as much to Silas Deane of Connecticut, and likewise Oliver Wolcott wrote to Roger Newberry, a Connecticut military officer, that he was of the opinion that the army is undertaking a Mighty Cause, and that as far as he could tell, the people support it. The post Congress Does Some War Business–June 5, 1776 appeared first on 250 and Counting.

The Rockland County area of New York State is some lovely country. It’s just north of New York City and, along with adjacent Duchess and Westchester Counties, could be considered the heart of the area where the Dutch settlers came and stayed. As a result you’ll find many place names that have Dutch origins. This is why so many places in the downstate New York area (the triangle above NYC) end in “-kill”, because “kill” is dutch for “creek.” Thus, “Fishkill” means “fish creek”. At any rate, while not a lot is known about Isaac Van Houten, it’s clear that he almost certainly has Dutch ancestry, given both his name and his hometown along the lower Hudson River. The post Isaac Van Houten–June 4, 1776 appeared first on 250 and Counting.

Josiah Bartlett was, in fact, the inspiration for the presidential character who appears in the TV show The West Wing. The modern day president, Jed Bartlet only spelled his name with a single T at the end, but it was only around this time that the spelling of English words was starting to standardize, so Bartlett gets a pass. Bartlett, of course, was involved in the creation of the state constitution, and while he declined the position of US Senator in 1789 despite the vote, he accepted the position of Chief Executive in 1790. When New Hanpshire adopted a constitution and became a state, Bartlett’s title changed to Governor. In 1794 he resigned because of his health, and in 175 he died. The post Congressional Mail–June 3, 1776 appeared first on 250 and Counting.

John Thomas was a doctor and a soldier from Massachusetts who was in Quebec during the attempted invasion and was in charge of the withdrawal until he got smallpox and died on this day in 1776. Thomas discovered he liked military service about as much as he liked being a surgeon, so in 1747 he became a lieutenant in the British army. A few years later he served as a surgeon for a different regiment. In the early days of the Revolution, Thomas nearly quit the Continental Army because he wasn’t named as a major general. At the time, Congress was trying to avoid having all its generals come from the same place, and Artemis Ward got the nod instead. It was only because both George Washington and Charles Lee both talked him into staying that he remained in the army and returned to service. Shortly thereafter he was assured that he would get top priority for advancement. It was that which led directly to his being assigned to command in Canada when Richard Montgomery was killed. Unfortunately for him, what he found when he arrived in Quebec was a mess: the army was far outnumbered (plus the city had walls), about a third of the Continental soldiers were due—or overdue—for discharge, and smallpox was making its way through the camp. Also unfortunately, as the smallpox moved through the camp, it made a stop at Roberts’ tent, and he died just a few weeks after arriving in Canada. The post RIP John Thomas–June 2, 1776 appeared first on 250 and Counting.

George Schetky came from a very musical family. As we mention in the episode, his father was also a cellist and composer who was originally from Vienna. As a result his home always had plenty of music present and was a regular hub of performances. In fact, one could say that the Schetky family was a musical dynasty, between George, his father, his uncle on his mother’s side (Alexander Reinagle) amd others. Thus, he was a virtuoso on the cello before he ever set foot in America. George came to America to stay with his uncle Alexander in Philadelphia, who was already well established there, and got himself into the local music scene as a performer and a teacher. This penchant for teaching also led him to theater programs including educational pamphlets so that patrons would understand the importance of the piece they were about to hear. And, of course, Schetky was important in the founding of the Musical Fund Society of Phladelphia, which is dedicated to artistic advancement and musician welfare even now, over 200 years later. The post George Schetky–June 1, 1776 appeared first on 250 and Counting.

José Antonio de la Garza was born in what we now call San Antonio. They may have called it that back then as well, but the area was called San Antonio de Béjar at the time, and was a mission around which the eventual city grew. Texas was still a territory belonging to Mexico (i.e., Spain), and in the early 1700s the popular thought was that building these missions would strengthen Spain’s claims to the territory. That…sort of worked for awhile, until disputed territories were locked into treaties, or ceded one way or another, or occupied by a military force. At any rate, once you’ve listened to the episode, you’ll have a better understanding of how Texas got its nickname. The post José Antonio de la Garza–May 31, 1776 appeared first on 250 and Counting.

Ben Franklin in Canada isn’t completely unreasonable, even though he was already the oldest delegate to the Continental Congress at 70. He was America’s first diplomat and a very skilled one at that, with oodles of charm. But Franklin in Canada was also a bad idea, because his health was bad and it’s not like he could just shoot up the New York Thruway to get there. He had to head up the Hudson River through Albany and Saratoga, and then across Lake Champlain. And he had to do it in wartime, in hostile territory. For all that, however, Franklin’s failure in Canada eventually led to the Battle of Saratoga and in turn got the French on our side. So maybe it wasn’t such a crazy idea after all. The post Back From Canada–May 30, 1776 appeared first on 250 and Counting.

While the Second Continental Congress always had a lot going on, not creating “an animated address” to make the Independence movement appearent to everyone seems like an odd failure. But sure enough, when it was recommended that such an address be created, this specific committee came up with nothing. Other committees appear to have presented addresses without problems, and many delegates worked on multiple committees, so was this an oversight? Was it overwork? Or perhaps the need to actually write a Declaration of Independence obviated the need for creating “an animated address”? The post The Address That Didn’t Happen–May 29, 1776 appeared first on 250 and Counting.

There’s a cool thing about Joseph Lee Smith that Mike doesn’t cover in his story today, probably because he is SO JEALOUS OF ME. Nah, I’m kidding. But the fact is, Joseph Lee Smith is tied up a little bit in my distant family history. I mentioned once before that my family can trace back to a common ancestor, Thomas Call, who arrived in America sometime in the 1640s. Thus, anyone with the surname Call is related, however distantly. There were Calls who were among the first Mormons to go west with (the other) Joseph Smith, so the name is about as common in Utah as it is uncommon pretty much everywhere else. Smith moved to Florida in 1821 and from 1823 to 1832 he was a territorial judge. In 1823 a delegate from Florida named Richard K Call introduced a resolution calling for the US House Judiciary Committee to investigage Smith on charges that he took bribes and kickbacks. The resolution was adopted and the investigation went on for at least seven years, but no charges were ever filed to impeach Smith. There are a few Calls in Florida history, and a couple of towns have a Call Street, including Starke, which has a “Call Street Historic District“. This area was named specifically for Richard K Call. Hm. My brother is named Richard Call, though he has a different middle initial. I may have to let him know about this… The post Joseph Lee Smith–May 28, 1776 appeared first on 250 and Counting.

Justice John Johnson had a brief career in the Indiana Supreme Court, but this shouldn’t be the legacy he leaves behind, especially inasmuch as there were no important decisions handed down during the six-ish months in which he was part of that bench. It would be his earlier efforts as an Indiana politician that you want to know about. And yes, Johnson was an active politician early in the days of the Indiana Congress. Before there was a state Constitution, there were the Territorial laws that Johnson helped to organize, so he was probably quite well-versed in what was already down on paper. The post Justice John Johnson–May 27, 1776 appeared first on 250 and Counting.

The Battle of the Cedars was actually a series of skirmishes that took place near the end of the American invasion of Quebec, which started in September 1775. The Cedars was an area just under 30 miles west of Quebec, and in April, Benedict Arnold had placed a detachment of troops in that area, because he’d heard that British and Indian troops were forming there. When Arnold’s men engaged with them, they wound up surrendering. What’s more, a backup force was also captured. But Arnold wasn’t giving up so easily, and he was able to get reinforcements that allowed him to move from the area just outside Montreal toward The Cedars. Unfortunately for him, the British had four-inch guns to fire at him, plus the threat that any prisoners captured so far would be killed—by the Indians, not by the British. Arnold may or may not have known what rules the Indians worked under, so he called a war council to get his advisers’ opinions. Arnold wanted to mount a surprise attack but his council convinced him otherwise. And that was pretty much that for the Battle of the Cedars. All that remained was the negotiations for prisoner exchange, but I won’t spoil for you here how that worked out; you’ll have to let Mike tell you. The post The Battle Of The Cedars Ends–May 26, 1776 appeared first on 250 and Counting.