Americanism Redux

March 6, your today, on the journey to the American Founding, 250 years ago, in 1775

(What??)

A surprise is unfolding.

You can go along, go along, go along, even in a crisis, and sometimes forget that you can always be surprised. So today, 250 years ago…

Surprise.

* * * * * * *

(those hands)

In Boston harbor, inside a British fort on Castle William island, fifteen men have breathed the air, caught the spirit, and seen the light.

They are free and they have liberty. Rooted in their state of nature, they want to become better people, live a better life, and change the world that knows them. Look at them standing in front of you.

Here they are, one-by-one.

Prince Hall.

Cyrus Johnson.

Bueston Slinger.

Prince Rees.

John Canton.

Peter Freeman.

Benjamin Tiler.

Duff Ruform.

Thomas Santerson.

Prince Rayden.

Cato Speain.

Boston Smith.

Peter Best.

Forten Howard.

Richard Titley.

Each takes an oath. Each nods and says yes. Each shows confidence and determination as words become muscle and thoughts become bloodstream.

They are now the first organization of free black Masons, Lodge Number 441, sponsored by the 38^th British Foot Regiment, a unit of the same army that colonial-rights supporters regard as the enemy. These fifteen black men band together for a life devoted to self-worth, self-improvement, self-governance, all for the betterment of the community.

Like the secret group of Masonic brethren ten months ago in Williamsburg, colony of Virginia, they decide that now is the time to harness personal growth to civic change.

Outside the fort, saltwater surrounds the rocky island within view of Boston. Close your eyes and imagine tea, crates or boxes, crowds of disguised people of fifteen months ago. These fifteen men will soon cross the harbor to the suffering town.

* * * * * * *

(what Gage now expected)

In Salem, just north of Boston, Thomas Gage has begun to plan for another military mission by Redcoat units. Last week’s Salem Standoff fell short. Next time, he’ll be sharper in planning, his soldiers swifter in movements. The goal will be the same—to seize identified caches of weapons and supplies that can be used for war. The methods and resources will be strengthened so as to avoid another Salem Standoff.

One thing he’s learned is that everyone on fire in the countryside to resist the Redcoats is fully equipped; each colonist who turns out will have not only the right gear but also enough food for a week.

The British strike and mission will need to be powerful and well-executed. The Crown’s opposition will need to be set back on its heels.

* * * * * * *

(ready to make a point)

The officers and soldiers of the British 43^rd Regiment of Foot are having a hearty laugh today, 250 years ago. While the fifteen black men were at Castle Island, these soldiers were on a short march in Boston and happened upon a celebration. A large crowd of colonial rights supporters had gathered to mark the five-year anniversary of the Boston “massacre”. A keynote speaker wearing a Roman toga was bloviating—that’s how the 43^rd saw it—about the past event and the present crisis. The grizzled British soldiers disrupted the scene, knocking into bystanders, yelling insults, and holding up bayonets and musket barrels. Their disdain for the crowd and the moment followed them back to quarters. The seething hatred of the Redcoats’ ways stayed with the crowd.

* * * * * * *

(this statue)

A situation has arisen in the colony of New York. More than that, maybe. A hardening and frightening environment.

A different kind of celebration is alive and undisturbed in New York City. The colony’s governor, Cadwallader Colden, is the keynote speaker here, though this in recognition of a new iron statue in Bowling Green, a central part of the community. The statue is of British King George III on a horse, all regal and majestic. Standing next to the monument, Colden describes the many blessings and benefits of living under British monarchical rule. His audience nods and applauds in approval. Later on, not far from Bowling Green, several members of the crowd along with others will meet at the home of Widow De La Montagnie to plan how to prevent the colony from choosing and sending delegates to the next, second “Congress” of protest that meets in Philadelphia two months from now.

Perhaps one topic at the Widow’s home will include what seems to be edging toward a race war in New York. A hundred miles north of the city, in Esopus, numerous black people are reported to have been arrested and charged with planning and aiding an attack on the town by Native tribes. On Long Island, at Jamaica, a rumored plot by enslaved black adults to kill local white people is supposedly uncovered and stamped out.

Today, 250 years ago, the colony of New York is a situation unto itself in the imperial-colonial clash.

* * * * * * *

(near the meeting site)

Names and numbers tell their own story, though one that often conflicts. It’s true again, today, 250 years ago.

In Philadelphia, colony of Pennsylvania a local governmental committee has renamed—rebranded?—itself to become “The Committee for the City and Liberties of Philadelphia” (the CCLP). However, the meeting that is scheduled for today at 6pm doesn’t have enough members in attendance to conduct affairs. Those who do bother to show up at Philosophical Society Hall arrive late and stand around talking. Nothing gets done.

In frustration, the meeting adjourns—nope, too formal—ends—no, try again—drifts apart. Yeah, that’s about right.

The scattered attendees of the meeting drift apart after a weak vow to do a better job advertising the next meeting and scolding members to participate.

* * * * * * *

(is it true or a political weapon?)

A weird report circulates in Philadelphia as the CCLP drifts apart. The Pennsylvania Journal newspaper prints a “petition” from elderly women. They say that they’re having a difficult time complying with the economic boycott in the colonies. They love drinking tea and eating chocolate and not doing so is so makes them miserable. Still worse, the petitioners declare, is that they see “old women of the other sex” who have similar struggles. What? Read that again: other “old women of the other sex?” Hmmm.

At any rate, they ask for an exemption to ease their plight.

Possibly, this strange announcement has some connection to the inability of the CCLP to convene members. Maybe it’s a product of misinformation, disinformation, and faux-information.

As a long-ago king once wrote, there’s nothing new under the sun.

* * * * * * *

(where they ate)

Three men enjoy their evening meal at the estate called Mount Vernon in the colony of Virginia. The host, George Washington, finishes telling his two guests of a failed day of hunting. After miles on horseback through the woods along the Potomac River, nothing. Came home empty-handed.

Table talk turns to the core of the occasion. Colonel Benjamin Harrison V, Captain James Wood, and Colonel George Washington all share experience in military affairs. Washington’s is the deepest, having fought and led soldiers in the field in the world war called the French and Indian War in the colonies and the Seven Years War in Europe; there’s even some who say he started the damn thing in ’54. Wood led a company of men in the recent Dunmore expedition into the upper valley of the Ohio River. Harrison has helped organize and administer volunteer militia units.

Each of them is ready to add armed power and military force to the cause of colonial rights.

If it comes to that, there will surely be long days and nights, on horseback, through the woods. And coming home? No one can predict. For tonight, eat up, clink your glass, and get some sleep as nightbirds settle along the Potomac River.

* * * * * * *

(what’s inside?)

Three hundred miles southwest of Mount Vernon and the Washington-Harrison-Wood supper, a man holds a baby. Hugs, is a better word.

The man’s full-time job is mail carrier; he rides his horse on the circuit delivering mail between Richmond and New Castle in the colony of Virginia.

While riding near New Castle, he saw a box alongside the road. He stopped, opened it, and found a baby inside. Next to the baby was a small amount of money and a scribbled note. The note-maker asked that whoever opened the box to care for the baby and use the money as payment.

The mail carrier is now a happy foster-father, today, 250 years ago. There’s a baby in his arms and, next to his horse, an empty box in the barn.

* * * * * * *

A baby rescued in the Virginia woods. Fifteen men bonded on a Massachusetts island. Surprises galore in a life of freedom where the wise still need a hand.

Also

(an opinion)

A nameless letter-writer in London, England takes note of the loyalty, obedience, and dutifulness of the people in the colony of New York. It’s what the writer has been hearing about. This anonymous author approves of the colony’s commitment to the imperial way. The author also observes that if colonies in New England refuse to stop resisting, the British government “will convince the refractory…that this nation will not be trifled with.” But it needn’t come to that.

After all, the writer concludes, Lord North and Parliament have offered to meet the conditions laid out by colonial protestors. It’s simple: say yes and the problem goes away.

* * * * * * *

(Burke’s imagery)

As this writer completes the letter, Lord North sits in the House of Commons listening to a lengthy debate today, 250 years ago. At issue is a proposed law that would greatly restrict, constrain, and harshly redefine the trade and commerce of the New England colonies.

An opponent of the measure, Edmund Burke, closes the debate by paraphrasing Jesus Christ hanging from the cross: forgive them for they know not what they do.

The bill passes its second reading by a vote of 215 yes and 61 no. On to the third reading and potential enactment.

* * * * * * *

(in eyeglasses like these)

In a house on London’s Craven Street, a man in small, round eyeglasses has started packing crates and trunks for travel. He is an exhausted and defeated Benjamin Franklin, his cause of imperial reconciliation is lost, and, like General Thomas Gage with his Redcoats in Boston, he plans a westward expedition as his next move. In Franklin’s case, though, it is a return home, across the Atlantic, to the New World, to Boston past Castle William and the fort where fifteen men took an oath, today, 250 years ago.

For You Now

(not my way)

I noted in my podcast, episode 16, that I’m not a man of straight lines. Others are, others can be and must be, I, however, am not. Life runs in curves, around bends, making turns, like a river.

If you want straight lines, you waste your time with me.

Today’s entry is all about the life of non-straight lines. We’re told by some that the American Revolution is purely about freedom. We’re told by others that the American Revolution is purely about enslavement. Straight lines.

Oh really.

Today we see a truth of a line that bends, curves, and turns in surprising and shocking ways. Fifteen black men of Boston, already freed, find their answer to the next steps of freedom in the company of hierarchical, harsh-disciplined, and Redcoated soldiers on a mission to force a community’s submission. These fifteen men bond with each other and with a broader network devoted to the progress, growth, and enrichment of personal living for community purposes. That network includes a group in Williamsburg, Virginia that proved pivotal last year in advancing into the forefront of protest for colonial rights.

It is a remarkable moment fully deserving of honor, respect, and recognition in the River of American Founding.

Suggestion

Take a moment to consider: those fifteen men chose that moment to step forward and pledge their commitment to a next step of freedom—what does this moment, our moment, ask you to do?

(Your River)