Gordon S. Wood is more than an American historian. He is almost an American institution. Of all the many teachers and writers of history in this Republic, few are held in such high esteem. Part of his reputation rises from his productivity — a stream of books, monographs, articles, lectures and commentary. Now he has added “The Idea of America” (along with a new edition of John Adams’s Revolutionary writings in two volumes for the Library of America series).
More important than his productivity is the quality of his work, and its broad appeal to readers of the right, left and center — a rare and happy combination. Specially striking is Wood’s rapport with the young. In the film “Good Will Hunting,” Matt Damon and Ben Affleck centered a lively scene at a student hangout on an impassioned discussion of Wood’s work. The television sitcom “It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia” made “Gordon Wood” into an adjective, and used it as a synonym for serious scholarship in general. “Wicked awesome,” one character said, “all that Gordon Wood business!” Through it all, the man himself preserves a quiet modesty, and even a humility that is central to his work. He is respected not only for what he does but for who he is.
Wood’s latest book is a collection of 11 essays, along with an introduction and conclusion, that encompass his entire career. It reveals more of the author than any of his other work and creates the opportunity for an overall assessment of his achievement. Wood introduces himself with a familiar line from the poet Archilochus: “The fox knows many things, but the hedgehog knows one big thing.” He celebrates the foxes who flourish in his field, and adds in his modest way, “By contrast, as a historian I fear I am a simple hedgehog. . . . Nearly all of my publications have dealt with the American Revolution and its consequences.”
That one subject has occupied Wood for half a century — a concentration span that few can match. And after many years of labor in that field, he has transformed it. Scholars before Wood had offered many interpretations of the Revolution, but none seemed quite right to him. He concentrated his work on the years from 1776 to 1828, an unusual choice. When he began, Wood remembers, this period had “a reputation for dreariness and insignificance,” as “the most boring part of American history to study and teach.” Historians of early America tended to think of the Revolution as a colonial insurgency and lost interest after 1776. Scholars of the “middle period” believed that the real revolution happened in the Age of Jackson, and thought of the preceding years merely as prologue.
Progressives like Charles Beard and Carl Becker had tried to bring life to the history of the early Republic by writing about a transition from aristocracy to democracy, but Wood did not share what he called “their preoccupation with economic and other underlying interests.” He also disliked “the partiality that plagued their histories, a partiality that was prompted by the need to find antecedents for the divisions of their own time.”
Even less satisfactory to Wood was the scholarship of the mid-1950s. It was a time when liberals followed Tocqueville’s idea that America was born free without having to become so. Conservatives took up the argument of Edmund Burke (and John Quincy Adams) that the purpose of the American Revolution was not to promote social change, but to prevent it. Radicals compared the Revolution with the French and Russian Revolutions, and proclaimed that it was not a genuine revolution at all.
Wood rejected all of these approaches. He went deep into primary materials and made an open-minded effort to understand the language and thought of 18th-century Americans in their own terms. After 10 years of research he reported his results, first in a short essay reprinted in this collection, then in the 1969 book “The Creation of the American Republic, 1776-1787.” Leading his readers into the sources, Wood demonstrated that Americans in those years invented “not simply new forms of government, but an entirely new conception of politics.” They rejected ancient and medieval ideas of a polity as a set of orders or estates. In their place they created a model of a state that existed to represent individual interests, and to protect individual rights. To those ends, Americans invented radically new ideas of representation, and new models for the “parceling of power.”
Wood also made another discovery: This revolutionary way of thinking did not derive from small elites or large treatises. He wrote that it was “not delineated in a single book; it was peculiarly the product of a democratic society.” In newspapers and pamphlets he found evidence that Americans of all conditions joined this great debate — men like William Findley, a weaver and farmer in Pennsylvania, and William Thompson, a tavern keeper in South Carolina.
To all this, Wood added a third finding. From the start, this new way of thinking was consciously conceived as an open process. Wood quoted Samuel Williams, a country clergyman in Vermont, who observed in 1794 that the American system “contains within itself the means of its own improvement.” It created a process of permanent reform that proved more durable than Trotsky’s permanent revolution.
“The Creation of the American Republic, 1776-1787” was much admired for its craftsmanship and for its substantive contribution. It won both the Bancroft and John H. Dunning Prizes. But Wood did not rest on his laurels. In 1969 he also published a small book on the founders’ complex and highly creative thinking about political representation — a pivotal problem in the American Revolution. Other short pieces followed, and many appear together for the first time in this new volume. One essay included here, originally presented as a lecture in 1974 on democracy and voting in the new Republic, reversed the customary wisdom on that subject. Wood found that “it is not suffrage that gives life to democracy; it is our democratic society that gives life to suffrage.” That theme has important implications in our own world. Other essays in this book take up problems on constitutions and constitutionalism, democracies and republics, political power and human rights, always in Wood’s careful and very creative way.
In 1992 these small essays led to another big book, “The Radicalism of the American Revolution.” Here Wood enlarged his earlier idea of a political thought-revolution, circa 1776-87, into a model of a sweeping social revolution from 1760 to 1825. He argued that this transformation “was as radical and social as any revolution in history, but it was radical and social in a very special 18th-century sense.” Wood wrote that “one class did not overthrow another; the poor did not supplant the rich. But social relationships — the way people were connected one to another — were changed, and decisively so.” The book altered the way historians thought about their field. It won a Pulitzer Prize for history.
In the 1990s, Wood followed it with another wave of small studies on the large figures who dominate our memory of the Revolution. Several of these essays appear in this volume. A piece on Thomas Jefferson and Tom Paine rescues them from “some very brutal and often deserved bashing” by exploring an idea of humanity that these very different men shared. Another empathetic essay studies Alexander Hamilton and George Washington on the problem of monarchy in the new Republic.
Wood published many other articles on the founders in 2006, in a lively collection called “Revolutionary Characters.” He added a separate volume on Benjamin Franklin, the most complicated founder of them all. Always, Wood’s purpose was not to celebrate or condemn these leaders, but to understand them. His results lead us beyond the hagiographers who celebrate the founders as demigods, and iconoclasts who revile them as racists and sexists, an approach Wood believes to be inaccurate and anachronistic.
Wood expanded the scale of his inquiries yet again in 2009 in another big book, “Empire of Liberty: A History of the Early Republic, 1789-1815,” a volume in the excellent Oxford History of the United States. Here he links his earlier themes to an even larger transformation of an entire culture in its deepest values and purposes. This year he was awarded the National Humanities Medal. Altogether, Wood has done more than anyone to make the era of the Revolution and early Republic into one of the liveliest periods in American history.
His work has made a difference in one more way. It reinforced the center when it was under heavy attack from both extremes. In a gentle reproof to scholars on the left, Wood has offered evidence that “what is extraordinary about the American Revolution is not . . . the continual deprivation and repression of the mass of ordinary people, but rather their release and liberation.” To conservatives on the right he makes very clear that the Constitution and Bill of Rights were conceived by their framers in dynamic terms, and were intended to grow.
In all of this work, the strength of Wood’s scholarship derives from qualities of caution, balance and restraint that are uniquely his own. He avoids questions that cannot be answered by research, even questions of causation that engage most of his colleagues. Wood writes that “it is difficult, if not impossible, to apply the physical notion of ‘cause’ to human action.” He is mistaken here; other causal ideas go far beyond that physical model. But Wood’s approach is fundamental to his success. As a historian he asks not why people do things, but what they think they are doing, and how their thoughts have changed through time. Ideas are studied not as underlying motives for action, but in another way. Wood believes that “ideas and language give meaning to our actions, and there is almost nothing that we humans do to which we do not attribute meaning.”
And on the “lessons of the past,” Wood is even more restrained. In his new book he observes: “If the study of history teaches anything, it teaches us the limitations of life. It ought to produce prudence and humility.” Gordon Wood teaches that lesson by the strength of his own example.
Friday, July 22, 2011
Gordon S. Wood, Historian of the American Revolution
From THe New York Times: Gordon S. Wood, Historian of the American Revolution
Monday, July 18, 2011
Daughters of the American Revolution challenged by Bates family of Virginia
The Washington Post: Daughters of the American Revolution challenged by Bates family of Virginia
By Annys Shin, Published: July 14
Wayne Witt Bates did not set out to take on the Daughters of the American Revolution. But he is not used to being challenged on his genealogy. A short list of his credentials: researcher for the B ates Family of Old Virginia (300 members and counting), coordinator of the Bates Family DNA project and, for 15 years, editor of the family newsletter, the Bates Booster.
“I am surprised DAR wants to fight me about the Bateses,” said Bates, 88, of Centreville, who has been researching his family tree since retiring as a Pentagon employee in 1974. “I know more than anyone wants to know.”
The genealogical throwdown began in January, when a cousin in Nevada, Suzanne Witt Adrian, told Bates that the Daughters of the American Revolution had turned away her application to have one of their ancestors, Reuben Bates Sr., recognized for his Revolutionary War service.
Proving direct descent from someone who aided the Revolutionary War effort has been a prerequisite for joining DAR since it was founded in 1890 as a response to women being excluded from Sons of the American Revolution. DAR — which describes itself as “dedicated to good works, such as promoting patriotism, preserving American history, and better education for children” — has more than 165,000 members, with hundreds of applications pouring in each month.
The organization, however, has strict standards when it comes to proof, with a preference for primary sources such as probate records, wills and census records. A DAR genealogist told Adrian, who is already a DAR member, that she didn’t prove she was descended from Reuben Bates or that he served in the war. She appealed to Wayne Bates for help. He submitted evidence to bolster their case, including DNA test results that, along with paper records, seemed to show conclusively that Adrian Bates descended from Reuben Bates Sr.
But in March, she learned DAR doesn’t accept DNA evidence, and the society turned back her application for a second time, saying she still hadn’t proved lineage or service to qualify Reuben Bates as a patriot. For Wayne Bates, this amounted to a declaration of war.
Bates, who resembles Colonel Sanders in giant square eyeglasses, began shooting off daily e-mails to DAR genealogists. He went on genealogy message boards and posted mini-screeds with titles such as “Current Rigid Methodology Renders DAR Immune to Logic” and “DAR credibility suffers.”
His lobbying campaign did not go over well at DAR’s downtown D.C. headquarters, at 1776 D St. NW. Stephen Nordholt, DAR’s administrator, warned Bates that if he didn’t stop bugging them, there would be “no further attention being given your matter — even if you are able to find new documentation that proves service of the individual in question.”
Among Bates family members, Reuben Bates Sr.’s Revolutionary War service has been accepted as fact since the 1970s because of something Wayne Bates had found at the National Archives.
Back then, when his knees still let him scour courthouses and church basements, he came across a book that contained a list of Continental Army soldiers assigned to Virginia. Inside was a description of what essentially was a pay stub for service in the Continental Army by one Reuben Bates.
It read: “Bates, Reuben — Soldier of Infantry — paid by Mr. Duval on March 4, 1783 — 36 (pounds).”
The payment record alone is not enough to prove service, Wayne Bates concedes. Colonial-era parents were not terribly creative when it came to naming their offspring. There were multiple Reuben Bateses and William Duvals running around the newly liberated colonies in 1783.
So Bates narrowed his search. He found four men named Reuben Bates living in Virginia during the Revolutionary War and looked up their vital statistics. Only one would have been the right age to have served and lived in the same county as a Duval: his ancestor, Reuben Bates of Louisa County.
Bates surmised that Duval was most likely Maj. William Duval, whose service in the Continental Army is verified by military pension records at the National Archives. In his pension application, Duval said he commanded troops from Louisa and several other counties and that he also owned land in Louisa in 1783. He was, in fact, the only Duval in Louisa County in 1783, tax records show.
Bates thought for sure that was all the proof he needed. He figured that as Reuben’s neighbor and probably his commanding officer, Duval had paid him for his service.
But DAR was still not convinced. Genealogist Thomas Ragusin, in a letter to Adrian and Wayne Bates, said the Duval on the payment record could not have been Maj. William Duval of Louisa because the record mentions “Mr. Duval,” not “Maj. Duval.”
Bates offers his own explanation for that. The war had been over for two years by then, and Duval would have returned to being a civilian.
‘An art form’
Bates admits to being a tad obsessive. For fun, he once tracked down every man who served on his Navy destroyer in World War II. He spent much of the 1980s researching the causes of railroad accidents after his brother, a railroad engineer, was wrongly blamed for one. “I cleared his name, clean as a whistle,” he says proudly. “It took 12 years, but I did it.”
The genealogical staff at DAR, by contrast, gets about two hours with each application. More than 90 percent are approved. The Bates case is part of a small minority that, instead, receive detailed “analyses” that lay out what is missing and what other documents to look for.
Genealogy “is not a science. It’s an art form,” says Terry Ward, who is DAR’s chief genealogist and leads a staff of 40.
Ward has short, gray hair and a slightly gravely voice. She’s worked in the DAR genealogy department for 14 years and remembers the days when correcting an old record involved scratching off the typewriting and then typing in the right information.
She has been the most frequent target of Bates’s barrage.
Ward has seen her share of applicants get upset when they are turned away, although they’re not usually as relentless as Bates. She doesn’t take it personally, she said. Nor do her staff members. They understand that genealogy is, at heart, an emotional exercise.
“It’s research and human nature. Someone goes up into the attic and finds Grandma was married twice and my uncle isn’t my uncle,” she says. “We understand that. We all started out researching our own families.”
She said proving service for a soldier in the Continental Line is rarely easy. Given the proliferation of identical names, proof of residency is critical to properly identifying someone. But the men who served on the Continental Line were pulled from different states, making it harder to know whether an ancestor is, for example, Reuben Bates from Virginia or Reuben Bates from New England.
Wayne Bates and other proponents of using DNA in genealogy argue that is precisely what DNA could help with. Within the Bates family, DNA has helped distinguish who descends from which branch. He said DNA evidence also backs up his claim that he is descended from Reuben Bates Sr. The Y chromosome DNA is passed down from father to son. Wayne Bates’s DNA was an exact match for that of a relative who, by paper, can document his lineage to Reuben. Other lineage societies, including Sons of the American Revolution, accept DNA evidence.
Ward and her colleagues said their problem with DNA is that it is still too imperfect a tool for them to rely on, unless someone is able to find every ancestor, dig them up and test their DNA. “If life were like ‘CSI,’ ” Ward says, “that would solve all of my genealogical problems.”
On a recent morning, Wayne Bates makes his way down to his cluttered office in the basement of the home he shares with his wife, Rose. At the foot of the stairs is a map of Fairfax County in 1760.
Refusing to quit
He grumbles that he doesn’t move as well as he used to and that he has to fork out $40 an hour to send a professional genealogist to ferret out documents for him. He does most of his research perched in front of his computer, his face hovering a few inches from the screen.
He picks his way around piles of binders, boxes, an old exercise bike, file cabinets and an armchair. He points to a volume titled “Ancestors and Descendents of William Whitt (1775-1850),” by David F. Whitt.
“That’s a tremendous book,” he says.
Bates looks around at the mess. “You ought to see it up here,” he says, tapping his forehead.
“I still think the first genealogist made an innocent mistake,” he says. But the rejection by Ragusin, the other DAR genealogist, was galling. “He ignored all the evidence.”
At one point, Bates’s cousin suggested they ditch the effort to recognize Reuben Sr., but the old man refused.
“My poor ancestor is blue in the face from holding his breath,” he says. “DAR is still holding him in limbo.”
By Annys Shin, Published: July 14
Wayne Witt Bates did not set out to take on the Daughters of the American Revolution. But he is not used to being challenged on his genealogy. A short list of his credentials: researcher for the B ates Family of Old Virginia (300 members and counting), coordinator of the Bates Family DNA project and, for 15 years, editor of the family newsletter, the Bates Booster.
“I am surprised DAR wants to fight me about the Bateses,” said Bates, 88, of Centreville, who has been researching his family tree since retiring as a Pentagon employee in 1974. “I know more than anyone wants to know.”
The genealogical throwdown began in January, when a cousin in Nevada, Suzanne Witt Adrian, told Bates that the Daughters of the American Revolution had turned away her application to have one of their ancestors, Reuben Bates Sr., recognized for his Revolutionary War service.
Proving direct descent from someone who aided the Revolutionary War effort has been a prerequisite for joining DAR since it was founded in 1890 as a response to women being excluded from Sons of the American Revolution. DAR — which describes itself as “dedicated to good works, such as promoting patriotism, preserving American history, and better education for children” — has more than 165,000 members, with hundreds of applications pouring in each month.
The organization, however, has strict standards when it comes to proof, with a preference for primary sources such as probate records, wills and census records. A DAR genealogist told Adrian, who is already a DAR member, that she didn’t prove she was descended from Reuben Bates or that he served in the war. She appealed to Wayne Bates for help. He submitted evidence to bolster their case, including DNA test results that, along with paper records, seemed to show conclusively that Adrian Bates descended from Reuben Bates Sr.
But in March, she learned DAR doesn’t accept DNA evidence, and the society turned back her application for a second time, saying she still hadn’t proved lineage or service to qualify Reuben Bates as a patriot. For Wayne Bates, this amounted to a declaration of war.
Bates, who resembles Colonel Sanders in giant square eyeglasses, began shooting off daily e-mails to DAR genealogists. He went on genealogy message boards and posted mini-screeds with titles such as “Current Rigid Methodology Renders DAR Immune to Logic” and “DAR credibility suffers.”
His lobbying campaign did not go over well at DAR’s downtown D.C. headquarters, at 1776 D St. NW. Stephen Nordholt, DAR’s administrator, warned Bates that if he didn’t stop bugging them, there would be “no further attention being given your matter — even if you are able to find new documentation that proves service of the individual in question.”
Among Bates family members, Reuben Bates Sr.’s Revolutionary War service has been accepted as fact since the 1970s because of something Wayne Bates had found at the National Archives.
Back then, when his knees still let him scour courthouses and church basements, he came across a book that contained a list of Continental Army soldiers assigned to Virginia. Inside was a description of what essentially was a pay stub for service in the Continental Army by one Reuben Bates.
It read: “Bates, Reuben — Soldier of Infantry — paid by Mr. Duval on March 4, 1783 — 36 (pounds).”
The payment record alone is not enough to prove service, Wayne Bates concedes. Colonial-era parents were not terribly creative when it came to naming their offspring. There were multiple Reuben Bateses and William Duvals running around the newly liberated colonies in 1783.
So Bates narrowed his search. He found four men named Reuben Bates living in Virginia during the Revolutionary War and looked up their vital statistics. Only one would have been the right age to have served and lived in the same county as a Duval: his ancestor, Reuben Bates of Louisa County.
Bates surmised that Duval was most likely Maj. William Duval, whose service in the Continental Army is verified by military pension records at the National Archives. In his pension application, Duval said he commanded troops from Louisa and several other counties and that he also owned land in Louisa in 1783. He was, in fact, the only Duval in Louisa County in 1783, tax records show.
Bates thought for sure that was all the proof he needed. He figured that as Reuben’s neighbor and probably his commanding officer, Duval had paid him for his service.
But DAR was still not convinced. Genealogist Thomas Ragusin, in a letter to Adrian and Wayne Bates, said the Duval on the payment record could not have been Maj. William Duval of Louisa because the record mentions “Mr. Duval,” not “Maj. Duval.”
Bates offers his own explanation for that. The war had been over for two years by then, and Duval would have returned to being a civilian.
‘An art form’
Bates admits to being a tad obsessive. For fun, he once tracked down every man who served on his Navy destroyer in World War II. He spent much of the 1980s researching the causes of railroad accidents after his brother, a railroad engineer, was wrongly blamed for one. “I cleared his name, clean as a whistle,” he says proudly. “It took 12 years, but I did it.”
The genealogical staff at DAR, by contrast, gets about two hours with each application. More than 90 percent are approved. The Bates case is part of a small minority that, instead, receive detailed “analyses” that lay out what is missing and what other documents to look for.
Genealogy “is not a science. It’s an art form,” says Terry Ward, who is DAR’s chief genealogist and leads a staff of 40.
Ward has short, gray hair and a slightly gravely voice. She’s worked in the DAR genealogy department for 14 years and remembers the days when correcting an old record involved scratching off the typewriting and then typing in the right information.
She has been the most frequent target of Bates’s barrage.
Ward has seen her share of applicants get upset when they are turned away, although they’re not usually as relentless as Bates. She doesn’t take it personally, she said. Nor do her staff members. They understand that genealogy is, at heart, an emotional exercise.
“It’s research and human nature. Someone goes up into the attic and finds Grandma was married twice and my uncle isn’t my uncle,” she says. “We understand that. We all started out researching our own families.”
She said proving service for a soldier in the Continental Line is rarely easy. Given the proliferation of identical names, proof of residency is critical to properly identifying someone. But the men who served on the Continental Line were pulled from different states, making it harder to know whether an ancestor is, for example, Reuben Bates from Virginia or Reuben Bates from New England.
Wayne Bates and other proponents of using DNA in genealogy argue that is precisely what DNA could help with. Within the Bates family, DNA has helped distinguish who descends from which branch. He said DNA evidence also backs up his claim that he is descended from Reuben Bates Sr. The Y chromosome DNA is passed down from father to son. Wayne Bates’s DNA was an exact match for that of a relative who, by paper, can document his lineage to Reuben. Other lineage societies, including Sons of the American Revolution, accept DNA evidence.
Ward and her colleagues said their problem with DNA is that it is still too imperfect a tool for them to rely on, unless someone is able to find every ancestor, dig them up and test their DNA. “If life were like ‘CSI,’ ” Ward says, “that would solve all of my genealogical problems.”
On a recent morning, Wayne Bates makes his way down to his cluttered office in the basement of the home he shares with his wife, Rose. At the foot of the stairs is a map of Fairfax County in 1760.
Refusing to quit
He grumbles that he doesn’t move as well as he used to and that he has to fork out $40 an hour to send a professional genealogist to ferret out documents for him. He does most of his research perched in front of his computer, his face hovering a few inches from the screen.
He picks his way around piles of binders, boxes, an old exercise bike, file cabinets and an armchair. He points to a volume titled “Ancestors and Descendents of William Whitt (1775-1850),” by David F. Whitt.
“That’s a tremendous book,” he says.
Bates looks around at the mess. “You ought to see it up here,” he says, tapping his forehead.
“I still think the first genealogist made an innocent mistake,” he says. But the rejection by Ragusin, the other DAR genealogist, was galling. “He ignored all the evidence.”
At one point, Bates’s cousin suggested they ditch the effort to recognize Reuben Sr., but the old man refused.
“My poor ancestor is blue in the face from holding his breath,” he says. “DAR is still holding him in limbo.”
Starring: the Oneida Nation in the Revolutionary War
From The New York Times: Starring: the Oneida Nation in the Revolutionary War
LOS ANGELES — “We used to have petroglyphs,” said Ray Halbritter, the nation representative of the Oneida Indian Nation and the chief executive of its Nation Enterprises.
In a telephone interview on Friday, Mr. Halbritter was explaining his nation’s reasons for dabbling in the movie business by agreeing to finance a planned picture about the Oneidas, their long-ago chief Han Yerry, and their alliance with American colonists during the Revolutionary War, even when others in the Iroquois Confederacy backed the British.
An independent production that is expected to cost $10 million, “First Allies,” as the film is called, is expected to begin shooting in central New York this fall. It will be directed by Kees Van Oostrum, a well-known cinematographer (whose credits include “Gettysburg”), based on the book “Forgotten Allies: The Oneida Indians and the American Revolution,” by Joseph T. Glatthaar and James Kirby Martin. Mr. Halbritter and a pair from Hollywood, Alex Siskin and Sidney Ganis, will have various producing roles.
The idea, said Mr. Halbritter, is partly enterprise-driven: The nation would be pleased to make some money on an investment of assets derived from its casino and other businesses. But the Oneidas, he added, are also looking for something more effective than traditional storytelling to bridge what he sees as a gap between the nation’s fewer than 1,000 members and a world with which it has had property disputes and other run-ins for years.
“I had an aunt and uncle who burned to death, and the fire department wouldn’t send a truck,” said Mr. Halbritter, referring to an incident that occurred decades ago.
Among other things, “First Allies” is meant to remind the rest of America that the Oneidas, at considerable cost, helped give birth to the United States by fighting alongside the colonists, particularly at the battle of Oriskany, which will figure in the movie. “They were very close to George Washington,” Mr. Halbritter said of his Oneida ancestors.
Mr. Ganis, who spoke separately on Friday, said the major roles had not yet been cast. He and Mr. Siskin are lining up Native Americans for the native roles, but are looking for a Hollywood star to play Nicholas Herkimer, an American militia general who died of wounds received at Oriskany in 1777.
Mr. Ganis said it was Mr. Siskin’s idea to approach the Oneidas about financing a film about themselves. Meetings followed. Before agreeing to commit, Mr. Halbritter, no pushover, suggested changes to a script that had been written by Bob Burris. “It’s almost like he’s a studio chief,” said Mr. Ganis.
LOS ANGELES — “We used to have petroglyphs,” said Ray Halbritter, the nation representative of the Oneida Indian Nation and the chief executive of its Nation Enterprises.
In a telephone interview on Friday, Mr. Halbritter was explaining his nation’s reasons for dabbling in the movie business by agreeing to finance a planned picture about the Oneidas, their long-ago chief Han Yerry, and their alliance with American colonists during the Revolutionary War, even when others in the Iroquois Confederacy backed the British.
An independent production that is expected to cost $10 million, “First Allies,” as the film is called, is expected to begin shooting in central New York this fall. It will be directed by Kees Van Oostrum, a well-known cinematographer (whose credits include “Gettysburg”), based on the book “Forgotten Allies: The Oneida Indians and the American Revolution,” by Joseph T. Glatthaar and James Kirby Martin. Mr. Halbritter and a pair from Hollywood, Alex Siskin and Sidney Ganis, will have various producing roles.
The idea, said Mr. Halbritter, is partly enterprise-driven: The nation would be pleased to make some money on an investment of assets derived from its casino and other businesses. But the Oneidas, he added, are also looking for something more effective than traditional storytelling to bridge what he sees as a gap between the nation’s fewer than 1,000 members and a world with which it has had property disputes and other run-ins for years.
“I had an aunt and uncle who burned to death, and the fire department wouldn’t send a truck,” said Mr. Halbritter, referring to an incident that occurred decades ago.
Among other things, “First Allies” is meant to remind the rest of America that the Oneidas, at considerable cost, helped give birth to the United States by fighting alongside the colonists, particularly at the battle of Oriskany, which will figure in the movie. “They were very close to George Washington,” Mr. Halbritter said of his Oneida ancestors.
Mr. Ganis, who spoke separately on Friday, said the major roles had not yet been cast. He and Mr. Siskin are lining up Native Americans for the native roles, but are looking for a Hollywood star to play Nicholas Herkimer, an American militia general who died of wounds received at Oriskany in 1777.
Mr. Ganis said it was Mr. Siskin’s idea to approach the Oneidas about financing a film about themselves. Meetings followed. Before agreeing to commit, Mr. Halbritter, no pushover, suggested changes to a script that had been written by Bob Burris. “It’s almost like he’s a studio chief,” said Mr. Ganis.
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
Bruce's History Lessons - The reluctant Revolutionaries
CantonRep.com: Bruce's History Lessons - The reluctant Revolutionaries
The American Revolution, which officially began July 4 in 1776 with the Declaration of Independence, has been called a conservative revolution when compared with, say, the French Revolution of the 1780s or the Russian Revolution of 1917. In the latter two cases, fiery radicals fought to seize power from a sovereign ruler, while in America’s revolution conservative property owners fought to regain powers they believed were theirs by right as self-governing Englishmen.
There is much truth to this argument, which is not to say there weren’t radicals in America in the 1770s; there were, many of them publishing incendiary pamphlets, organizing violent protests or, as in the case of the Boston Tea Party, destroying British property. Certainly men, such as Sam Adams, sometimes called America’s first terrorist, were radicals, and Boston, in particular, and Massachusetts, in general, were hotbeds of ideologues calling for revolution and independence from Great Britain.
But the American Revolution never would have succeeded were it not for the decision by many moderates, mostly from the middle colonies of New York, Pennsylvania, New Jersey and Maryland, to join their more radical brethren in rebelling against British rule.
In most cases, these men did so only after carefully reviewing the pros and cons of breaking with the mother country — and there were many cons. Unlike Puritan New England and the slave-holding South, whose economies were mostly agricultural, the middle colonies, located along the Atlantic seaboard, had developed successful businesses based on trade with Great Britain, and they also were dependent upon capital invested by Great Britain. In other words, good Anglo-American relations were critical to the economies of the middle colonies. These middle colonies also understood that the British presence in America protected them from other foreign powers, Spain in particular, as well as the unfriendly Indian tribes on their frontier.
These moderates also knew that war with Britain not only meant the end of this mutually beneficial relationship, it also meant that if America lost the war — a very real possibility given that Britain was then the world’s mightiest military power — it would not just be the radicals, but these moderates as well, who would lose their property, their livelihoods and quite possibly their lives.
So why did the moderates join? At first because they hoped that a unified front of defiance would convince the British that war with the colonies was indeed possible and that it would be as harmful to Britain’s economic interests as to America’s. When that failed, and when the threat to their rights and liberties became manifest, they realized that no other outcome except war and independence was possible. More in sorrow than in anger these moderates became revolutionaries.
The American Revolution, which officially began July 4 in 1776 with the Declaration of Independence, has been called a conservative revolution when compared with, say, the French Revolution of the 1780s or the Russian Revolution of 1917. In the latter two cases, fiery radicals fought to seize power from a sovereign ruler, while in America’s revolution conservative property owners fought to regain powers they believed were theirs by right as self-governing Englishmen.
There is much truth to this argument, which is not to say there weren’t radicals in America in the 1770s; there were, many of them publishing incendiary pamphlets, organizing violent protests or, as in the case of the Boston Tea Party, destroying British property. Certainly men, such as Sam Adams, sometimes called America’s first terrorist, were radicals, and Boston, in particular, and Massachusetts, in general, were hotbeds of ideologues calling for revolution and independence from Great Britain.
But the American Revolution never would have succeeded were it not for the decision by many moderates, mostly from the middle colonies of New York, Pennsylvania, New Jersey and Maryland, to join their more radical brethren in rebelling against British rule.
In most cases, these men did so only after carefully reviewing the pros and cons of breaking with the mother country — and there were many cons. Unlike Puritan New England and the slave-holding South, whose economies were mostly agricultural, the middle colonies, located along the Atlantic seaboard, had developed successful businesses based on trade with Great Britain, and they also were dependent upon capital invested by Great Britain. In other words, good Anglo-American relations were critical to the economies of the middle colonies. These middle colonies also understood that the British presence in America protected them from other foreign powers, Spain in particular, as well as the unfriendly Indian tribes on their frontier.
These moderates also knew that war with Britain not only meant the end of this mutually beneficial relationship, it also meant that if America lost the war — a very real possibility given that Britain was then the world’s mightiest military power — it would not just be the radicals, but these moderates as well, who would lose their property, their livelihoods and quite possibly their lives.
So why did the moderates join? At first because they hoped that a unified front of defiance would convince the British that war with the colonies was indeed possible and that it would be as harmful to Britain’s economic interests as to America’s. When that failed, and when the threat to their rights and liberties became manifest, they realized that no other outcome except war and independence was possible. More in sorrow than in anger these moderates became revolutionaries.
Monday, July 11, 2011
Justice William Smith House to be rebuilt with help of 12-year-old Fayetteville girl
Herald-Mail.com: Justice William Smith House to be rebuilt with help of 12-year-old Fayetteville girl
MERCERSBURG, Pa.— At first glance, the pile of rubble that once was the Justice William Smith House in Mercersburg might seem like a lost cause, but don't tell that to 12-year-old Bailey Orange.
The Fayetteville, Pa., girl is spearheading efforts to breathe new life into the historic structure that was dismantled in February by the Mercersburg Montgomery Peters and Warren Volunteer Fire Co. for expansion.
"I always loved history, so what we're doing is trying to restore this house so future generations can see it," Bailey said.
Even though she was sad when the building was torn down piece by piece, Bailey said she didn't give up hope.
"It would have been nice if we could have kept it like it was, but we can still build it again," Bailey said. "I think it might be even better. We're going to have a museum in it and it'll have some interesting things."
On Saturday, she kicked things off with a reconstruction ceremony at the new home of the Justice William Smith House at the former Exxon gas station, which is across the street from the house's original location.
The gas station site was owned by the First National Bank of Mercersburg until Friday, when Bailey's father, Dr. Paul Orange, purchased it for $69,500.
Orange purchased pieces of the house, which dates to the mid-1700s, for $49,500 in order to reconstruct it.
Smith House supporters believe the actions of Smith were crucial to the start of the American Revolution and the Second Amendment right to bear arms.
Using social media sites such as Facebook and Twitter and her new website kidslovehistory.org, Bailey plans to spread the word that the birthplace of the American Revolution was Pennsylvania in 1765, not Massachusetts in 1775.
"We feel that what happened here started the American Revolution," Paul Orange said. "It wasn't Lexington and Concord. The things that happened here in the frontier were the spark that ignited the fire for the Revolution."
He said he needs about $500,000 to develop a Smith House property.
"I'd like the community to help, and we're going to try and get some federal, state and local money, if possible, but I will invest what I have to," Orange said.
He said the first phase of fundraising is in the hands of children.
"These are kids that care enough about history that they want to see this preserved in their lifetime," Orange said.
All of the dirt that the children dug through Saturday comprised a 2-foot wide by 2-foot deep space around the house.
"It was in the basement and we had them peel off that area around the house," said Jerry Ross, president of Birthplace of the Nation Foundation. "We felt that that would be the most intense in terms of artifacts. They made three piles here. This is all from the original property."
More than a dozen kids dug their shovels into one of three mounds of dirt, each time pulling out a treasure of broken pottery or something unique.
Digging in the dirt might not be Kendra Zaruba's favorite thing to do, but it was all in the name of history — her favorite subject.
"It's a part of history and it's really important for other generations to see it," the 12-year-old Waynesboro girl said. "I want it to be rebuilt so that other people can come and see it. It's really cool to think that we helped build it up again."
MERCERSBURG, Pa.— At first glance, the pile of rubble that once was the Justice William Smith House in Mercersburg might seem like a lost cause, but don't tell that to 12-year-old Bailey Orange.
The Fayetteville, Pa., girl is spearheading efforts to breathe new life into the historic structure that was dismantled in February by the Mercersburg Montgomery Peters and Warren Volunteer Fire Co. for expansion.
"I always loved history, so what we're doing is trying to restore this house so future generations can see it," Bailey said.
Even though she was sad when the building was torn down piece by piece, Bailey said she didn't give up hope.
"It would have been nice if we could have kept it like it was, but we can still build it again," Bailey said. "I think it might be even better. We're going to have a museum in it and it'll have some interesting things."
On Saturday, she kicked things off with a reconstruction ceremony at the new home of the Justice William Smith House at the former Exxon gas station, which is across the street from the house's original location.
The gas station site was owned by the First National Bank of Mercersburg until Friday, when Bailey's father, Dr. Paul Orange, purchased it for $69,500.
Orange purchased pieces of the house, which dates to the mid-1700s, for $49,500 in order to reconstruct it.
Smith House supporters believe the actions of Smith were crucial to the start of the American Revolution and the Second Amendment right to bear arms.
Using social media sites such as Facebook and Twitter and her new website kidslovehistory.org, Bailey plans to spread the word that the birthplace of the American Revolution was Pennsylvania in 1765, not Massachusetts in 1775.
"We feel that what happened here started the American Revolution," Paul Orange said. "It wasn't Lexington and Concord. The things that happened here in the frontier were the spark that ignited the fire for the Revolution."
He said he needs about $500,000 to develop a Smith House property.
"I'd like the community to help, and we're going to try and get some federal, state and local money, if possible, but I will invest what I have to," Orange said.
He said the first phase of fundraising is in the hands of children.
"These are kids that care enough about history that they want to see this preserved in their lifetime," Orange said.
All of the dirt that the children dug through Saturday comprised a 2-foot wide by 2-foot deep space around the house.
"It was in the basement and we had them peel off that area around the house," said Jerry Ross, president of Birthplace of the Nation Foundation. "We felt that that would be the most intense in terms of artifacts. They made three piles here. This is all from the original property."
More than a dozen kids dug their shovels into one of three mounds of dirt, each time pulling out a treasure of broken pottery or something unique.
Digging in the dirt might not be Kendra Zaruba's favorite thing to do, but it was all in the name of history — her favorite subject.
"It's a part of history and it's really important for other generations to see it," the 12-year-old Waynesboro girl said. "I want it to be rebuilt so that other people can come and see it. It's really cool to think that we helped build it up again."
Soil from Mercersburg's Smith House searched for artifacts
Public Opinion.com: Soil from Mercersburg's Smith House searched for artifacts
MERCERSBURG -- Standing atop a dirt pile in Mercersburg, historian Tim McCown believes he's on the spot where the American Revolution began.
After the Justice William Smith House was taken down piece by piece, it now awaits reconstruction at its new site, divided among several piles of brick, stone, wood and soil.
Supporters of preservation of the house say it is linked to the first settler uprisings against the British, years before the Boston Tea Party.
With McCown's help on Saturday, children sifted through the earth piles in search of pieces of the house's history.
"The American Revolution started in this dirt," McCown said, holding a piece of plate that was discovered.
The archeological dig served as both an educational event and also as a kick-off to the fundraising campaign to reconstruct the house, according to Dr. Paul Orange, who purchased the pieces of the house.
About a dozen children, including Orange's 12-year-old daughter Bailey, searched through the soil for artifacts.
"I wanted to come out and see if I can inspire other kids, so that future generations can see what history is all about," she said.
Hailey Young, 10, found a piece of a glass plate, as well as five or six pieces of pottery.
"I thought it would be a lot of fun, because there's a lot of history in the house," Young said.
Supporters say the house has links to the creation of the Second Amendment of the Constitution, as well as the Black Boys Rebellion in 1765.
"We contend -- and scholars -- that the revolution really started in the Pennsylvania frontier," said Jerry Ross, president of the Birthplace of the Nation Foundation, the group preserving the house.
Ross said they will likely break ground in the spring for the building at its new site.
In the meantime, the structure remains in pieces. All of the stones were numbered during the deconstruction process so that they could be reassembled the same way.
"The masons and carpenters took extensive notes, so when it goes up, it will be exactly as it was when it went down," Orange said. "The pieces are in very good condition for their age."
Mercersburg Montgomery Peters and Warren Volunteer Fire Company had purchased the property in 2009 with plans to use the land for expansion. The fire hall is on the adjacent lot.
Preservationists fought the demolition of the building. In February, the house was taken down, but the fire company agreed to sell the building pieces to Orange, who plans to rebuild the house across the street at the former site of an Exxon station.
It wasn't exactly the outcome supporters of the house had wanted, but as historian Douglas Claytor of Frederick, Md., put it, it was the next-best thing.
"The whole premise is education. This is an opportunity to teach. You have to look at it in this light," he said. "We're not in the save-from-fire-company mode any more."
There were two previous archeological excavations done at the site in 2010.
Karen Ramsburg, former president of the Committee to Save the Justice William Smith House, said that MMPW has asked for the artifacts from the digs.
"We're encouraging the fire chief to donate the artifacts to the museum, so they can be enjoyed by future generations to come," Ramsburg said.
The original house was built in the 1700s, though a top floor was later added. To make it historically accurate, the top floor will not be included when the home is reconstructed.
Orange said they are not sure yet exactly how much money will be needed in order to rebuild the house.
"It's a lot," he said.
But the history in the building is invaluable, according to Claytor, who has been involved with a number of other preservation projects in the region.
"It's so important these kids learn where they come from. That's real critical," Claytor said.
Benjamin Troupe, 15, Mercersburg, who joined in the dig Saturday, understood that.
"I came out to support the community and to preserve the history of our community. This it not just Pennsylvania history or local history, this is national history," Troupe said. "I want to save this for my kids and their kids, and say that I was a part of this."
About the house
Supporters of the Justice William Smith House say it is linked to James Smith and the first settler uprisings against the British at Fort Loudoun in November 1765, eight years before the Boston Tea Party and the start of the American Revolution.
A pioneer of the Pennsylvania frontier, Justice William Smith (James' brother and the house's namesake) challenged the authority of the British army after the deaths of hundreds of citizens from the Mercersburg area.
Justice Smith ruled that because the government had refused to protect its citizens from marauding Indians, the citizens had "the right to bear arms" in order to defend themselves.
MERCERSBURG -- Standing atop a dirt pile in Mercersburg, historian Tim McCown believes he's on the spot where the American Revolution began.
After the Justice William Smith House was taken down piece by piece, it now awaits reconstruction at its new site, divided among several piles of brick, stone, wood and soil.
Supporters of preservation of the house say it is linked to the first settler uprisings against the British, years before the Boston Tea Party.
With McCown's help on Saturday, children sifted through the earth piles in search of pieces of the house's history.
"The American Revolution started in this dirt," McCown said, holding a piece of plate that was discovered.
The archeological dig served as both an educational event and also as a kick-off to the fundraising campaign to reconstruct the house, according to Dr. Paul Orange, who purchased the pieces of the house.
About a dozen children, including Orange's 12-year-old daughter Bailey, searched through the soil for artifacts.
"I wanted to come out and see if I can inspire other kids, so that future generations can see what history is all about," she said.
Hailey Young, 10, found a piece of a glass plate, as well as five or six pieces of pottery.
"I thought it would be a lot of fun, because there's a lot of history in the house," Young said.
Supporters say the house has links to the creation of the Second Amendment of the Constitution, as well as the Black Boys Rebellion in 1765.
"We contend -- and scholars -- that the revolution really started in the Pennsylvania frontier," said Jerry Ross, president of the Birthplace of the Nation Foundation, the group preserving the house.
Ross said they will likely break ground in the spring for the building at its new site.
In the meantime, the structure remains in pieces. All of the stones were numbered during the deconstruction process so that they could be reassembled the same way.
"The masons and carpenters took extensive notes, so when it goes up, it will be exactly as it was when it went down," Orange said. "The pieces are in very good condition for their age."
Mercersburg Montgomery Peters and Warren Volunteer Fire Company had purchased the property in 2009 with plans to use the land for expansion. The fire hall is on the adjacent lot.
Preservationists fought the demolition of the building. In February, the house was taken down, but the fire company agreed to sell the building pieces to Orange, who plans to rebuild the house across the street at the former site of an Exxon station.
It wasn't exactly the outcome supporters of the house had wanted, but as historian Douglas Claytor of Frederick, Md., put it, it was the next-best thing.
"The whole premise is education. This is an opportunity to teach. You have to look at it in this light," he said. "We're not in the save-from-fire-company mode any more."
There were two previous archeological excavations done at the site in 2010.
Karen Ramsburg, former president of the Committee to Save the Justice William Smith House, said that MMPW has asked for the artifacts from the digs.
"We're encouraging the fire chief to donate the artifacts to the museum, so they can be enjoyed by future generations to come," Ramsburg said.
The original house was built in the 1700s, though a top floor was later added. To make it historically accurate, the top floor will not be included when the home is reconstructed.
Orange said they are not sure yet exactly how much money will be needed in order to rebuild the house.
"It's a lot," he said.
But the history in the building is invaluable, according to Claytor, who has been involved with a number of other preservation projects in the region.
"It's so important these kids learn where they come from. That's real critical," Claytor said.
Benjamin Troupe, 15, Mercersburg, who joined in the dig Saturday, understood that.
"I came out to support the community and to preserve the history of our community. This it not just Pennsylvania history or local history, this is national history," Troupe said. "I want to save this for my kids and their kids, and say that I was a part of this."
About the house
Supporters of the Justice William Smith House say it is linked to James Smith and the first settler uprisings against the British at Fort Loudoun in November 1765, eight years before the Boston Tea Party and the start of the American Revolution.
A pioneer of the Pennsylvania frontier, Justice William Smith (James' brother and the house's namesake) challenged the authority of the British army after the deaths of hundreds of citizens from the Mercersburg area.
Justice Smith ruled that because the government had refused to protect its citizens from marauding Indians, the citizens had "the right to bear arms" in order to defend themselves.
Saturday, July 9, 2011
Words turned the tide during the American Revolution
Anchorage Daily News: Words turned the tide during the American Revolution
Before the Fourth of July holiday recedes fully into the forgotten past, it's perhaps intriguing to recall some of the realities of the American Revolution, including the now infamous Tea Party. The real one took place in 1773, three years before the Declaration of Independence, and was something of an act of desperation on the part of the revolutionary cadre, led by Sam Adams. As the revolutionary movements swirling about us today have made clear, revolution can be a dangerous thing. Those who are actively involved risk ... everything.
Historians have called Britain's policy toward its American colonies through the 17th and most of the 18th century "benign neglect." Crown and Parliament did not want to pay for American colonization, so they sent would-be settlers on their way with a hearty "cheerio, and don't call home." As a result, the colonies became largely self-supporting, handling their own internal affairs and taxing themselves to pay the costs. But when the French and their Indian allies attacked the British colonies from the west, beyond the Appalachian Mountains, between 1754 and 1763, the colonial militias were outmatched, and the British Parliament raised a full army to meet the challenge.
Successful, the British decided to take control of colonial affairs, beginning by levying a tax to pay for the war. The colonists protested, arguing that they'd done fine taxing themselves, and Parliament did not need to start now. In addition, taxation only by representatives of the people taxed was already a cherished English liberty, a liberty, with others, the colonists thought it was Parliament's duty to protect, not take away. Parliament thought otherwise, passing an act in 1766 declaring its right to pass any laws regarding the colonies that king and Parliament deemed appropriate.
But protesting the home government's colonial policy was one thing, armed rebellion quite another. Tensions, and protests, ebbed and flowed in the decade after the war, and, while Sam Adams' revolutionaries were vocal and active, most people weren't all that anxious to risk their careers and their lives. Historians estimate that probably not more than 20 percent of the colonial population actively engaged in protest politics. Another 20 percent vigorously supported the crown, agreeing that Parliament had rightful authority over the colonies. Many of these "Loyalists" fled the new United States after 1776. The remainder of the population, though they may have sympathized quietly with the radicals, mostly went on about their business, wishing everyone else would, also.
The rebels worked hard to keep the populace informed and aroused, periodically staging protests while surreptitiously collecting arms. In early March 1770, a mob -- loud, surly, drunk and dangerous, mostly instigated by the rebels -- surrounded the customs house in Boston, taunting the young British soldiers on guard there. Pushing and shoving led to musket shots, killing five colonials, the Boston Massacre. In the aftermath, tempers cooled, and the rebels had difficulty keeping the revolutionary fervor high.
Then Parliament passed a new colonial tax, on tea, in 1773. This gave the rebels an opening. They published broadsides and called protest meetings, and when three shiploads of tea arrived in Boston in November, the populace responded with marches and demonstrations. On the night of Dec. 13, a large group of rebels, loosely disguised, perhaps organized by Sam Adams, boarded the ships and threw the tea into Boston Harbor. Parliament responded with a hammer, passing a series of draconian acts the colonists could only resist.
By the time the second Continental Congress met in May 1775, anti-British sentiment was higher than before the Tea Party, but still not in favor of independence. It would take over a year of discussion, and refusals by the king and Parliament to negotiate, for the rebels to persuade a majority of the population to support a declaration of independence. But eventually words turned the tide. Thomas Paine argued in his pamphlet "Common Sense," published in Jan. 1776, that the king had no legitimate authority over the colonies. And Thomas Jefferson set forth in the Declaration in July the new and astonishing idea that government should be based on the consent of the governed, not on the king or God. From that, there has been no turning back.
Before the Fourth of July holiday recedes fully into the forgotten past, it's perhaps intriguing to recall some of the realities of the American Revolution, including the now infamous Tea Party. The real one took place in 1773, three years before the Declaration of Independence, and was something of an act of desperation on the part of the revolutionary cadre, led by Sam Adams. As the revolutionary movements swirling about us today have made clear, revolution can be a dangerous thing. Those who are actively involved risk ... everything.
Historians have called Britain's policy toward its American colonies through the 17th and most of the 18th century "benign neglect." Crown and Parliament did not want to pay for American colonization, so they sent would-be settlers on their way with a hearty "cheerio, and don't call home." As a result, the colonies became largely self-supporting, handling their own internal affairs and taxing themselves to pay the costs. But when the French and their Indian allies attacked the British colonies from the west, beyond the Appalachian Mountains, between 1754 and 1763, the colonial militias were outmatched, and the British Parliament raised a full army to meet the challenge.
Successful, the British decided to take control of colonial affairs, beginning by levying a tax to pay for the war. The colonists protested, arguing that they'd done fine taxing themselves, and Parliament did not need to start now. In addition, taxation only by representatives of the people taxed was already a cherished English liberty, a liberty, with others, the colonists thought it was Parliament's duty to protect, not take away. Parliament thought otherwise, passing an act in 1766 declaring its right to pass any laws regarding the colonies that king and Parliament deemed appropriate.
But protesting the home government's colonial policy was one thing, armed rebellion quite another. Tensions, and protests, ebbed and flowed in the decade after the war, and, while Sam Adams' revolutionaries were vocal and active, most people weren't all that anxious to risk their careers and their lives. Historians estimate that probably not more than 20 percent of the colonial population actively engaged in protest politics. Another 20 percent vigorously supported the crown, agreeing that Parliament had rightful authority over the colonies. Many of these "Loyalists" fled the new United States after 1776. The remainder of the population, though they may have sympathized quietly with the radicals, mostly went on about their business, wishing everyone else would, also.
The rebels worked hard to keep the populace informed and aroused, periodically staging protests while surreptitiously collecting arms. In early March 1770, a mob -- loud, surly, drunk and dangerous, mostly instigated by the rebels -- surrounded the customs house in Boston, taunting the young British soldiers on guard there. Pushing and shoving led to musket shots, killing five colonials, the Boston Massacre. In the aftermath, tempers cooled, and the rebels had difficulty keeping the revolutionary fervor high.
Then Parliament passed a new colonial tax, on tea, in 1773. This gave the rebels an opening. They published broadsides and called protest meetings, and when three shiploads of tea arrived in Boston in November, the populace responded with marches and demonstrations. On the night of Dec. 13, a large group of rebels, loosely disguised, perhaps organized by Sam Adams, boarded the ships and threw the tea into Boston Harbor. Parliament responded with a hammer, passing a series of draconian acts the colonists could only resist.
By the time the second Continental Congress met in May 1775, anti-British sentiment was higher than before the Tea Party, but still not in favor of independence. It would take over a year of discussion, and refusals by the king and Parliament to negotiate, for the rebels to persuade a majority of the population to support a declaration of independence. But eventually words turned the tide. Thomas Paine argued in his pamphlet "Common Sense," published in Jan. 1776, that the king had no legitimate authority over the colonies. And Thomas Jefferson set forth in the Declaration in July the new and astonishing idea that government should be based on the consent of the governed, not on the king or God. From that, there has been no turning back.
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