Americanism Redux

March 19, your today, on the journey to the American Founding, 250 years ago, in 1776

(I’ll explain in a bit)

Victory. Success. The big win.

We all want them.

Until, that is, someone chimes in with one particular question:

now what?

* * * * * * *

The Day The Redcoats left Boston. Quickly it became known for exactly what it was: evacuation day, March 17, when British forces boarded British boats and left the town that had come to represent the heart and soul of colonial resistance to British authority, British power, British tea.

Made unsafe by the Continental Army’s multi-day artillery barrage, unleashed by most recaptured and reclaimed cannon from an old British fort on Lake Champlain, the Redcoats were compelled to abandon the community they had held since the bloodshed of Concord, Lexington, and Old Bay Road. The final piece behind the British withdrawal had been a sudden massive storm that prevented a counterattack on Continental fortifications. And now they are gone, as of Sunday, the 17^th, henceforth known as Evacuation Day.

For the Union, for its supporters, for Americans, it’s victory, success, and the big win all rolled into one.

* * * * * * *

Continental Army commanding General George Washington has, by today, 250 years ago, established guards to the entrances to Boston. You have to show a pass to get through into the town. You have to be on some sort of official duty to get a pass. You have to behave yourself and make sure there are no stragglers or miscreants looking to plunder, pillage, or God-knows-what if they enter Boston. He doesn’t want a larger version of Norfolk (VA) where pro-Unionists did the vast majority of damage to the community. He doesn’t want people settling scores and avenging grudges over who supported the British occupiers or who looked the other way while Redcoats stole, robbed, and thieved. He wants this community to get back to normal as fast as possible. These are Washington’s answers to now-what as it applies to Boston. Beyond Boston, however, the now-what gets even harder to define, much less to know.

* * * * * * *

A contingent of Continental Army units and militia units will be leaving the Boston area, bound for New York City. They’re Washington’s first response to the post-Boston now-what; he and many other people believe the British will relocate their invasion from New England to New York harbor, New York City, and the waterway network that comprises this bustling area. At least two governors, Jonathan Trumbull Sr of Connecticut and Nicholas Cooke of Rhode Island, urge Washington to order the units to travel along their colonial coasts of Long Island Sound. That way, Trumbull and Cooke reason in separate letters to Washington, they can benefit from Continental Army protection in case the British unexpectedly land and invade through their communities. So long as the Continentals are marching in their countrysides, local residents will feel more protected, more secure, and—let’s just say it plainly—more supportive of a still new Union cause.

* * * * * * *

As for Washington himself, the complexities of moving Continental Army units from greater Boston to greater New York City are a combination of nightmare, headache, and heartburn. He writes this to Continental Congress President-Preside/nt John Hancock: “I could wish to have their (Congress’s) command upon the subject and in time, as I may be under some degree of embarrassment as to their views.” Sensing that the longer he doesn’t know what Congress wants, the more vulnerable he’ll be to mockery and criticism—the longer the now-what isn’t matched with now-how—Washington is still willing to wait for Congress to direct him in the Boston-to-New York military shift. He’s elevating the civil-military relationship above his reputation and popularity. But time is running short.

* * * * * * *

(no thanks)

Speaking of popularity, Washington learns that someone has a beautiful horse to give him as a gift for the big win in Boston. The general declines the gesture. Meanwhile, Washington learns something else—that the British Redcoats had built almost impregnable barricades in the town and 1,000 Redcoats could have defeated an assault by 20,000 colonists. Had Washington’s own plans for a frontal attack been adopted by his core team two weeks ago, a bloody disaster would have ensued. An entirely different now-what would have been true.

As it is, Washington currently believes the Hudson River flowing into New York City is the key to everything: the north-south trade across the river would be cut if the British seize control of the Hudson and “the Safety of America” would be in peril. Is this the new now-what, and is Washington to be trusted as the source of the answer?

From Knox’s astounding transport of the cannon to Washington’s inability to launch his earlier frontal attack, the differences between big win and massive loss are razor-thin.

* * * * * * *

(Reed)

Joseph Reed, one of Washington’s aides, knows the victory of Evacuation Day shows “it is certain that Enterprize & Success give a Brilliance & Luster which cannot be unacceptable to a good mind.” He warns, however, that Washington’s image can be undermined by appearances of uneven planning and preparation for the Redcoats’ predicted New York operations. Reed hints of a hollowness to Washington’s influence, raising the stakes of his future performance in the now-what of New York.

* * * * * * *

In Roxbury, Massachusetts, waiting to get into Boston, Joseph Ward knows precisely what to do about the now-what. If everyone reads Thomas Paine’s “Common Sense”, Ward says, “I am persuaded the war would not be long if those sentiments (of Paine’s) were adopted, and that America would soon be the admiration and glory of the world.” For Ward, the now-what is clear. Read the booklet, embrace its argument, and the war can end.

* * * * * * *

(New York City)

Continental General Israel Putnam has just learned today, 250 years ago, that his now-what is the next-stop—New York City, where he’s been ordered by Washington to travel and become part of the new command in charge of preparing to block a British invasion. Loyal to the Union and Washington alike, Putnam is packing his baggage for the journey to his next assignment.

Awaiting Putnam in New York are hundreds of Continental Army soldiers, including a young man barely three weeks into the rank of captaincy. He’s Alexander Hamilton, freshly promoted to command of an artillery unit in New York City. Captain Hamilton is everything General Putnam is not—fast-talking, fast-reading, and fast-moving. Today, Hamilton gets a packet of money to pay the monthly wages of his privates and lower-ranking company officers. Hamilton has been in the city for three years, knows the landscape, and is gaining an understanding of the complexities of the people who live here. The young captain will be an asset in helping Putnam and other generals plan the now-what in this new site of war-waging.

The experienced Putnam and the inexperienced Hamilton will be sitting on a powder keg of tensions in New York City. Loyalty toward the British empire runs deep, producing an equally intense aggressiveness among Union supporters. If battle and armed conflict erupt, explosions will be felt in a thousand directions.

Proof of the powder keg can be seen in a proposed Continental Army policy for New Yorkers. Urged by Continental Army General Charles Lee is a requirement for residents to take a loyalty oath to the Union cause. The thought of Lee’s policy enrages local Union leaders like John Jay, who’s steeped in ancient writings by Seneca, Polybius, and Cicero. Jay has so absorbed their teachings that he seamlessly creates his own application of their principles: “When the Army become our Legislators, the People that Moment become Slaves.”

And when the armies leave Boston, the people of New York begin their version of now-what.

* * * * * * *

(Adams)

In Philadelphia the blast from Thomas Paine’s “Common Sense” continues to reverberate. People are asking if John Adams, Massachusetts delegate to the Continental Congress, is the real author of the booklet. Adams’s eyes sparkle with a mischievous gleam whenever he’s asked the question directly. He denies authorship, allows that the booklet contains a powerful case for ending monarchy in the colonies, and states that Paine destroys better than he builds. But destruction isn’t all bad in Adams’s view, for he observes that preparations for war are advanced in Virginia, New York City, and South Carolina. Others in Philadelphia warn that support for the Union in western North Carolina and western South Carolina is weakening and soon anti-Union forces could join up with enslaved black people along the coasts of those colonies and strike back at Union supporters. Somehow, though, Adams asserts that “America will eer long, raise her Voice aloud, and assume a bolder Air,” writes Adams. From north to south, twin impacts spread from Paine’s writings and the specter of war.

Now-what seems to envision an intersection of the two.

* * * * * * *

On all sides of Adams in the chamber of the Pennsylvania State House in Philadelphia, delegates clang and clatter with proposals and opinions. Oliver Wolcott of Connecticut accuses Reverend William Smith of having politicized the eulogy of Continental General Richard Montgomery and slyly promoted pro-British sentiments. Thomas Johnson of Maryland proposes the Union adopt a wide swath of British-like administrative organisms: a Board of Treasury, a War Office, a Board of Public Accounts, and on and on. President-Preside/nt John Hancock is now openly aligning with Virginia’s Benjamin Harrison, enraging Hancock’s fellow Massachusetts delegates who view Harrison as anti-Paine. Rumors circulate among the delegates’ desks that the British-leaning Penn family, a sort of owning family of Pennsylvania’s governing charter, wants to host six Native tribes of the Iroquois confederation a few blocks from the Continental Congress, a subtle hint of potential Native warfare against the Union. Additional rumors fly into the chamber that the French have used Sweden to prevent Russia from sending mercenaries to help the British in America.

John Adams describes a hardening of some delegates’ resistance to independence as a “System”. They’ve banded together, plotted together, maneuvered and voted and bargained together. Adams intends the term to be negative. Such a “System” might soon be called a “Faction” or, later, a “Party”.

Together, they steer toward their now-what.

* * * * * * *

And so it is that at the docks of Portsmouth, New Hampshire, Captain Thomas Peverly sees his ship secured, anchored, and tied off. He’s bringing 6000 pounds of gunpowder from the West Indies for the Union cause, along with his report of having seen 10,000 French troops preparing for war on the islands of Martinique and Guadalupe. Be sure you see the name painted on the side of Peverly’s ship—it’s perfect for the week that has Evacuation Day:

The “Success”.

* * * * * * *

A success, a victory, a big win are great experiences. They are also the prelude for a question some will ask: now what?

Also

(Paha Sapa)

They’ve found the center of the world in the early spring of 1776. The Lakota people call it Paha Sapa, or the Black Hills. A cave is there, from which bison emerged, first quite small and then quite large as they gained in strength and size. Human beings followed soon after and the two creatures—people and bison—raced against each other. People won and established supremacy. Armed with this belief, the Lakota have narrowed that supremacy into their own, a Native empire in the upper Plains that has pushed other tribes into other lands. A Native leader, Wabasha, has taken a large number of Lakota warriors east to help in a great battle said to be emerging along the St. Lawrence River. Wabasha and the warriors are thought to be making history for the Lakota people and their empire.

* * * * * * *

(San Diego River)

Diego is in jail along the San Diego River, placed there by Spanish soldiers as punishment for a crime he supposedly committed. That crime was the provision of assistance to Kumeyaay warriors when they destroyed a Spanish outpost late last year. Diego awaits his fate, sipping dirty water and eating crushed, dried vegetables.

* * * * * * *

(Sandwich the ship’s visitor)

Captain James Cook awaits his upcoming date of departure from Liverpool, England. He and his crew will take the ship “Resolution” on a voyage to Newfoundland, their first leg of a journey meant to find the “northwest passage” in North America to the Pacific Ocean. Today, 250 years ago, Captain Cook welcomes the Earl of Sandwich aboard for a ship inspection. Any day now, Cook will be ocean-bound again.

For You Now

A favorite film of mine is “The Candidate”, starring Robert Redford. Redford’s character is Bill McKay, a young US Senate candidate who’s given no chance of winning in the election. Naturally, McKay wins. Perhaps the film’s most remembered scene is the last as McKay catches the eye of his campaign manager in a room packed with joyous campaign workers. McKay asks, “What do we do now?” Boiled down: now what?

It’s a great question for today, 250 years ago. Washington has finally succeeded in battle, or specifically, a siege. Now what? Everyone’s attention militarily turns from Boston to New York City. Now what? Paine’s “Common Sense” maintains its high level of public impact. Now what? And so on.

To win is not to end. Success is seldom finality. Victory takes you to the next test, challenge, or competition.

You have to be prepared to begin again. It’s not exactly starting over or starting from scratch or starting from nothing. It is instead the recommencement of the effort that overcame whatever was previously in front of you.

Two pitfalls open up immediately as you recommence. The first is arrogance—we did it before, we’ll do it again, we’ve got it figured out, and don’t bother me with the details. The second is assumption—that what happened will of course repeat, it’s an extension of the before and past as prologue. Fall into these traps and you’ll wait a long time before needing to ask “now what” again.

The historical aspect of today’s entry that captivates me the most is three-fold. John Jay shows us a fascinating example of taking a learning into his full being and producing his own knowledge. That’s worthy of emulation. In addition, place matters—imagine if the Continental Army had besieged the British Redcoats in a New York-style location with its virulent anti-Union feeling. That would have completely altered the DNA of the Union’s armed force. Being outside Boston from summer 1775 to spring 1776 left a big imprint on the Continental Army and the Union’s armed force. Finally, the big win of Boston may, or may not, have a blast impact like Common Sense. Each community will learn of it as word travels and news spreads. The impact’s pattern has the potential to affect the now-what of people’s decisions and understandings of the River ahead. 

Suggestion

Take a moment to consider: do you see a now-what staring the United States in the face 250 years later?

(Your River)