The “Battle” of Fort Thicketty

Emerging Revolutionary War welcomes guest historian Tom Elmore.

Throughout history many battles have been decided by little things, sometimes even before the battle. This is true of the Battle of Kings Mountain in South Carolina whose outcome was influenced by a little-known battle about thirty miles away on July 26, 1780, at Fort Thicketty in modern-day Cherokee County, S.C.

The fort was built circa 1769 when local farmer David Anderson converted his barn into a blockhouse outpost. Originally called Fort Anderson, it became known as Fort Thicketty (or Thicketty Fort) after a near-by creek that had unusually thick vegetation along its banks. Though the fort was intended to defend the area population from hostile Native Americans, it mainly saw action against outlaw gangs.[i]

In early June 1780, the fort was occupied by Captain Patrick Moore and his Loyalist followers. Moore was born in Virginia in 1750. Since 1768 he had lived about a mile southwest of the fort along Thicketty Creek. He was described as a fierce, intimidating man who stood six foot seven.[ii]

Moore’s men used the fort as a base of operations for raiding Patriot’s homes and farms. One historian described his men as “politically neither British nor American. They were simply robbers…preying upon defenseless women and children.” Another historian noted that “[Fort Thicketty] became a great place of resort and protection for Tory parties. They would sally forth and plunder Whig families in every direction – so that women and children were often left without clothing, shoes, bread, meat, or salt.” [iii]  

Continue reading “The “Battle” of Fort Thicketty”

“Mostly Members of the Old Flatbush Families”: The Kings County Historical Society and the Battle of Long Island in Memory – Part Two

ERW welcomes back historian Keith J. Muchowski as he concludes his series.

A new Brooklyn, a new century
This all happened at a moment of great economic, political, and demographic transformation in Brooklyn. For many residents of Dutch colonial heritage, life had changed surprisingly little since the seventeenth century. Well into the twentieth century, families like the Lotts, Bergens, Kouwenhovens, and Remsens and others lived comfortably in houses built by their ancestors. Some even continued farming the same fields that their forbears had tilled centuries earlier.1 Besides enjoying a domestic life that would have been recognizable to their ancestors, many worshipped in the same Dutch Reformed Churches those ancestors had built. When the time came, they often buried their loved ones in plots beside family members who had been resting there for centuries.

Continue reading ““Mostly Members of the Old Flatbush Families”: The Kings County Historical Society and the Battle of Long Island in Memory – Part Two”

“Mostly Members of the Old Flatbush Families”: The Kings County Historical Society and the Battle of Long Island in Memory

ERW welcomes back historian Keith J. Muchowski for a two part series in honor of the 250th anniversary of the New York Campaign and the Battle of Long Island.

Continue reading ““Mostly Members of the Old Flatbush Families”: The Kings County Historical Society and the Battle of Long Island in Memory”

My 4th of July in Quincy, Massachusetts: Where else would I be?

ERW is pleased to welcome back guest author Marianne Holdzkom.

July 4, 2026, was a big moment for the United States. This day marked the 250th anniversary of the adoption of the Declaration of Independence, what many call the birthday of the United States. As people were making plans, the question was always, “Where do you want to spend this important anniversary?” There were certainly many fantastic choices: New York City, Boston, Philadelphia, and Colonial Williamsburg, just to name a few.  Yet I have known for a number of years where I would be. It was a no-brainer. I would spend that day in Quincy, Massachusetts. There is no place else for me. Not only was this 4th the 250th birthday of the Declaration of Independence, but it also marked the 200th anniversary of the deaths of John Adams and Thomas Jefferson—fifty years to the day that the Declaration was adopted by the Continental Congress. It was that anniversary that drew me to Quincy. As a John Adams scholar, I was compelled to be in the town where he lived and where he died. I needed to pay my respects. While others were deciding what fireworks display to see, I was on a mission: Quincy or bust!

Even when Adams was serving abroad, his hometown was never far from his thoughts. “I know not the Reason but there is some Strange Attraction between the North Parish in Braintree [now Quincy] and my Heart,” he wrote to Abigail. “It is a remarkable Spot. It has vomited Forth more Fire than Mount Etna. It has produced three mortals, Hancock and two Adams’s, who have, with the best Intentions in the World, set the World in a blaze.”[1] He was writing from Paris at the time. Now, as the locals will tell you, Quincy is full of history that goes well beyond the Adamses. From the early years of the Massachusetts Bay colony, this region has been one of the historically richest areas of the country. Even in the early colonial period, the South Shore was the center of controversy with the antics of Thomas Morton and some of the Puritan disputes of the 17th century taking place here. The city also honors the history of the Quincy family for which the town was named. In addition, Quincy is the birthplace of both Dunkin’ Donuts and Howard Johnson. There is also a Quincy Quarry and Granite Workers Museum in the city.[2] There is no doubt that the city’s history is fascinating. Yet the attraction for many is always the remarkable Adams family.  In this Semiquincentennial year, when Americans are remembering their founding moment, many of us came to Quincy to honor John Adams.

My husband, Dr. Albert J. Churella, ever the good sport about my John Adams fandom, had secured hotel reservations for us in my home from home in Quincy.  The hotel is conveniently located across the street from the Quincy North T Station and makes it easy to get around Quincy on the Red Line.  On the evening of July 3, after settling into our hotel, we rode the two T stops to Quincy Center.  From here, it is a short walk to the Hancock-Adams Common, United First Parish Church, the Adams National Historical Park Visitors Center, and the Quincy Historical Society. As we strolled to dinner, I took the time to pose with the statues of John Adams and Abigail Adams on the Common. We also visited the new John Quincy Adams statue which I had never seen. This statue and the little park surrounding it are nice additions!

The author with Quincy’s new statue of John Quincy Adams

On the morning of July 4, the big day, we arrived early at the Adams National Historical Park. We knew the temperatures would soar, and the earlier we arrived the better chance we had of getting into the historic homes. Here, we met Mr. Scott McKinley, a fellow Adams family fan, and a talented voice actor as well as scholar. It was a delight to meet him and share part of the day with him. 

The author (right) with Scott McKinley at Peacefield

As the Visitors Center opened, we took our place in line with the other people who had decided to spend part of their day with the Adamses. We were fortunate to get a condensed tour of Peacefield in the morning as the temperatures in the house were becoming unbearable. Unfortunately, I could not see the one room that really mattered to me on that day.  Reportedly, John Adams died in his upstairs study, and we were not allowed to go there due to the heat. The best thing I could do was take a picture of the staircase.  However, according to our guide, one of the staff members at the park is doing some research into the exact place of John Adams’s death. He is not convinced that it happened in the study so stay tuned. I am still grateful that I was able to be in the house, however briefly.

Staircase in Peacefield to the study

One of the special events the park planned for that day was a public reading of the Declaration of Independence. Hilary Miller, Chief of Interpretation at the park, arranged for volunteers from the audience to read portions of the Declaration.  Of course, all three of us in our party participated. It was a great way to remind ourselves of the power of those words.  While I was disappointed that there was no programming surrounding the death of John Adams on that day (that happened the following weekend), I was happy to be a part of this nod to the Declaration of Independence.

I had several nice moments that day at Adams.  I was happy to see, for example, that the park is still selling my book, Remembering John Adams: The Second President in History, Memory and Popular Culture. For an academic author, seeing one’s book on sale is always a win!  Yet the nicest gift of all that day came from Hilary Miller.  She remembered me from past visits and had something to share with me. Miller had requested a Cameo Video from William Daniels for her team as part of their July 4th celebration. She was kind enough to show it to me! The 99-year-old actor, John Adams to so many of us, recorded a wonderful tribute to the park and thanked them for all they are doing to preserve the legacy of John Adams and his family. I was touched that Hilary wanted to share that with me, knowing how much I would appreciate it.

Albert Churella, the author, and Scott McKinley

Finally, that afternoon, we arrived at United First Parish Church, or The Church of the Presidents. The church was completed in 1828 and built in part from granite donated by John Adams.  He was a life-long member of the congregation here and wished to see a “Stone Temple” built to replace the wooden meeting house in his beloved town.  He, along with Abigail, John Quincy Adams, and Louisa Catherine Adams, are buried in the church’s crypt.  This is where I had to be, more than any other place that day.  As we met up with Bill Westland, the delightful church historian who has been a tremendous help to me in my research, I prepared myself for my visit to John Adams’s grave.  I knew that I would not have a moment alone there.  That just doesn’t happen although I have never requested it.  I was just hoping to be able to shut out everything else and pay my respects.  John Adams’s words were swirling around in my brain. “Posterity! You will never know, how much it cost the present Generation, to preserve your Freedom! I hope you will make a good Use of it. If you do not, I shall repent in Heaven, that I ever took half the Pains to preserve it.”[3]  “Yet through all the gloom, I can see the rays of Ravishing Light and Glory.”[4]  Meanwhile, my husband was taking pictures of me so that I could remember the moment.  This was my chance to pay my respects. He understood how important that was to me as did Scott.

As I was standing by John Adams’s tomb, another woman came up and said that she was there to pay her respects and thank him for his service.  I was touched by this and didn’t mind sharing the moment with her. Then I had to try and put into words what I was feeling.  I looked down at the tomb and asked Mr. Adams, “What do we do now?” The woman standing with me thought that was a very good question. I asked this question because I have been struggling to see those rays of ravishing light and glory lately. I love the optimism and hope in the statement, and I remind myself daily that if John Adams could say this given what he was up against then surely I can, too. Still, I needed his help that day. However, we did not get an answer to my question. Silence. 

When you spend as much time studying a historical figure as I have John Adams, you believe that you can know how they would respond to questions or statements in conversation. I know what I wanted to communicate, and I was only getting started. Next, I said to John, “I’ve done the best I can for you and your legacy. Thank you for everything.”  It was then that I could imagine a reply. “Thank you, Madam. And I have done the best I can for you.  For all of you! What do you do now, you ask?  That is up to you. I can do no more but to wish you well!”  Fair enough, President Adams. Message received. And thank you!

Communicating with John on July 4, 2026.

Marianne Holdzkom, Professor of History at Kennesaw State University, is the author of Remembering John Adams: The Second President in History, Memory and Popular Culture. She is also an Adams Memorial Foundation Scholar.

[1] John Adams to Abigail Adams, 15 August 1782, Adams Family Papers, An Electronic Archive, Massachusetts Historical Society, https://www.masshist.org/digitaladams/archive/doc?id=L17820815ja.

[2] For the early history of this region of Massachusetts, see Nina Sankovitch, American Rebels: How the Hancock, Adams and Quincy Families Fanned the Flames of Revolution (New York: St. Martin’s Press, 2020); For exhibits and resources concerning all aspects of Quincy history, visit the Quincy Historical Society and Museum, https://quincyhistory.org/; For more info on Quincy granite, see the Quincy Quarry and Granite Workers Museum, http://www.quincyquarrymuseum.org/

[3] John Adams to Abigail Adams, 26 April 1777, Adams Family Papers: An Electronic Archive, Massachuetts Historical Society, https://www.masshist.org/digitaladams/archive/doc?id=L17770426ja.

[4] John Adams to Abigail Adams, 3 July 1776, Adams Family Papers: An Electronic Archive, Massachusetts Historical Society, https://www.masshist.org/digitaladams/archive/doc?id=L17760703jasecond.

From Muster Roll to Lost Note: The Paper Trail of Edmund Fowler’s Revolutionary War Compensation

Emerging Revolutionary War welcomes guest historian Marc Lee.

At first glance, it is an unremarkable accounting ledger filled with columns of figures and financial calculations. Yet hidden among its entries is the story of a Revolutionary War soldier whose compensation claim continued to circulate through Connecticut’s bureaucracy years after the fighting had ended. The surviving manuscript, together with wartime muster rolls and treasury records, allows us to follow Edmund Fowler’s claim from military service to a replacement for a lost note, revealing how the Revolution’s paperwork could outlive the war itself.[i]

The document at the center of this story is an Invoice of Officers’ and Soldiers’ Notes, Payable June 1783, a manuscript created as Connecticut settled the financial obligations left by the Revolutionary War. Rather than recording the service of a single soldier, the ledger summarizes military notes issued to officers and enlisted men, listing an aggregate amount exceeding £10,700 and bearing a notation that the account was “charged July 9, 1784.” At first glance, it appears to be little more than a routine accounting record.[ii]

Figure 1. Invoice of Officers’ and Soldiers’ Notes, Payable June 1783, showing the original heading and later accounting calculations.

A closer examination tells a different story. The manuscript remained in active use long after it was first prepared. While the principal heading and endorsements were written in one hand, later calculations were added in a different ink and by a different hand, indicating that officials returned to the account years after the notes first became payable.[iii]

Those physical clues reveal an important reality about the Revolution’s aftermath. Paying veterans was not accomplished through a single transaction. Military service had to be verified, financial obligations reconciled, and documentary evidence maintained as claims moved through the state’s accounting system. What appears to be an ordinary ledger therefore preserves part of the administrative machinery that transformed wartime service into recognized financial compensation.

Among the many entries associated with Connecticut’s officers’ and soldiers’ notes is one that allows this broader process to be examined on a human scale. Through a series of surviving military and treasury records, the documentary trail of Revolutionary War veteran Edmund Fowler can be followed from his wartime muster rolls to the postwar administration of his compensation claim, offering a rare glimpse into how one soldier’s service continued to generate paperwork long after the fighting had ended.[iv]

The ledger identifies many officers and enlisted soldiers, but one name stands out because his surviving records extend well beyond this single document. Edmund Fowler appears in a series of Connecticut military records that preserve different stages of his wartime service, allowing his postwar compensation to be traced across several distinct record groups.[v]

Continue reading “From Muster Roll to Lost Note: The Paper Trail of Edmund Fowler’s Revolutionary War Compensation”

“In the Ranks of the Revolution: James Johnston’s War” Part II

Part I

Emerging Revolutionary War welcomes back guest historians Lori Amos Doss & Jarred Marlowe

Part 2: A Veteran in the Southern Campaign and the Road to Yorktown

In early 1781, after years of nearly continuous service, James Johnston finally set out for home on furlough. It must have been a long-awaited journey. Yet before he could reach his destination, events once again pulled him back into the war.

While passing through Prince Edward County, Virginia, Johnston learned of the difficult situation facing General Nathanael Greene in the South. British forces under Lord Cornwallis were pressing hard, and Greene’s army was in poor condition. Supplies were scarce, clothing was inadequate, and many of the soldiers were inexperienced militia. Previous defeats at Charleston and Camden had weakened the Continental presence in the region, leaving Greene with a force that struggled to match the discipline of British regulars.

Johnston understood the danger. Rather than continue home, he took action. Drawing on his experience in the northern campaigns, he recruited twelve veteran soldiers who had completed their terms of service. Together, they traveled south to join Greene. Their arrival was timely. Greene assigned them as adjutants to officers commanding Virginia militia, where their role was to help bring order and discipline to units that often lacked both.

Time was short. Cornwallis was advancing, and a major confrontation was approaching. Johnston worked to train the militia as best he could, instilling in them the habits and expectations of seasoned soldiers. The results became clear at the Battle of Guilford Court House on March 15, 1781.

Greene arranged his army in three lines. The North Carolina militia formed the first, the Virginia militia the second, and Continental regulars the third. When the British advanced, the North Carolina militia broke quickly, some retreating without firing. The Virginia militia, however, held their ground. They fought with determination and inflicted significant casualties on the advancing British.

Although Greene eventually ordered a withdrawal, the battle came at a high cost for Cornwallis. His army suffered heavy losses, weakening his campaign in the South. Later observers noted the steadiness of the Virginia militia, and some accounts credited Johnston and his fellow veterans with helping prepare them for that moment.

After the battle, Johnston returned home at last, reuniting briefly with his family after years away. But the war was not yet finished, and his rest did not last long. Within days, he learned that Lafayette was now operating in Virginia and facing British forces under William Phillips and Benedict Arnold. Once again, Johnston chose to return to service.

Continue reading ““In the Ranks of the Revolution: James Johnston’s War” Part II”

The Burning of “Madam Souchong” and the Women of Providence Who Burned Her

Emerging Revolutionary War welcomes back guest historian Bjorn Bruckshaw

On a chilly but sunlit afternoon in Providence, smoke began to rise over Market Square—not from hearth fires meant to warm the town, but from a blaze built in defiance. As the smell of burning tar and tea drifted through the streets, cheers and shouts of defiance echoed through the square. Nearby, a man moved quickly from shop to shop, brush and lampblack in hand. One by one, he painted over a single word on storefront signs: TEA. This was no act carried out in secret. According to the Providence Gazette, he was “a spirited Son of Liberty,” and he worked in full view of the town as a crowd gathered around the growing fire.¹  

Just beyond him, the protest had already begun.

Earlier that day, a town crier had moved through Providence announcing that a quantity of India tea would be burned in the Market Square that afternoon, calling upon “all true friends of their country, lovers of freedom, and haters of shackles and hand-cuffs” to assemble and cast the tea into the flames.² By the appointed hour, the square was filled. This was no spontaneous outburst. It was organized, deliberate, and intended to be seen.

At the center of the gathering, flames climbed upward as a barrel of tar was placed upon the fire. Into it were thrown not only tea—hundreds of pounds of it—but also printed copies of Lord North’s speech and other “obnoxious English papers.” ³ the destruction was more than economic protest. It was a public repudiation of British authority itself. And then came the moment that set Providence apart.

These were not men disguised as Mohawk Indians, shrouded in secrecy under the cover of night as in Boston. This was something different—an open, public act carried out in daylight. At its center stood the women of Providence, dressed in everyday clothing, without disguise, stepping forward with the same patriotism and candor to cast the tea into the flames before the gathered town.⁴

In that moment, the Providence Gazette captured one of the most remarkable features of the event, noting that the tea was “fed to the fire by the women of the town.”⁵ Women, long central to colonial resistance through boycotts and the management of household consumption, now stood in the public square, actively participating in the destruction itself. This was not quiet resistance confined to the home. It was visible, communal, and unmistakable.

The prominence of women in the Providence protest did not go unnoticed beyond Rhode Island. In Virginia, the event was reported in the Virginia Gazette, where the destruction of tea was described in strikingly gendered and satirical terms. The article referred to the event as the “funeral of Madam Souchong,” personifying the tea as a female figure while simultaneously reinforcing contemporary stereotypes about women.⁶ In doing so, the report transformed the protest into a symbolic spectacle, revealing how acts of resistance in one colony could be interpreted—and reshaped—by observers in another.

Rhode Island had already established itself as one of the most defiant colonies in British North America. Its long-standing resistance to imperial regulation, fueled by its maritime economy and frequent clashes with customs enforcement, made it a persistent source of frustration for British authorities. Loyalist observers took note. Writing during the conflict, Peter Oliver described resistance in New England as the work of “lawless men” driven by mob influence, portraying their actions as rooted in disorder rather than lawful opposition.⁷ British officials expressed similar concerns in the aftermath of the Gaspee Affair, viewing the destruction of the customs schooner as a “daring insult to the authority of the Crown” and evidence that resistance in Rhode Island had reached a dangerous level.⁸ In June 1772, that defiance became unmistakable when local patriots burned the Gaspee, a British vessel sent to enforce imperial law.

The British response only deepened colonial fears. Officials threatened to transport suspected participants to England for trial, raising concerns about the erosion of traditional rights and legal protections.⁹ In Rhode Island, the lesson was clear: British authority was not only intrusive but increasingly dangerous.

Continue reading “The Burning of “Madam Souchong” and the Women of Providence Who Burned Her”

That Chess Story

Emerging Revolutionary War welcomes back guest historian Michael Aubrecht

If one was to define the life and legacy of Colonel Johann Gottlieb Rall (Rahl) they may use the term “victim of circumstance.” His is the ironic tale of a military man, whose stubborn nature and bad luck resulted in an untimely death. As the commander of the Hessian Troops garrisoned at Trenton New Jersey, Rall was the unfortunate recipient of General George Washington’s surprise attack that followed his brilliant crossing of the Delaware River on Christmas night in 1776.

There have been many different versions of this story, but a reexamination of the events by modern military historians has yielded a more redeeming conclusion to Rall’s defeat. Whereas it was once believed that the Hessian troops were celebrating the holiday and simply too intoxicated to properly defend the garrison and themselves, experts now believe that Rall and a sober regiment of German soldiers may have underestimated the resolve of their adversaries.

One aspect of this story that hasn’t changed took place prior to the attack…

A young boy had been given a spy report from a local Loyalist with directions to deliver it to a Hessian colonel who was in occupation of the City of Trenton. The note, written in English, was intended to inform the commander that the Continental Army was crossing the river and planning to attack. It is said that the colonel did not want to be interrupted during his Chess game (some say cards), so he put the unread note in his pocket. The story concludes with the note being found, still in his pocket, unopened, after he died in battle.

As both a Chess and Rev-War aficionado, I decided to do a little research into this specific part of the story to see what information was available. What I found was completely different than I had originally anticipated.

Continue reading “That Chess Story”

“In the Ranks of the Revolution: James Johnston’s War”

Emerging Revolutionary War welcomes guest historians Lori Amos Doss & Jarred A. Marlowe, bios follow part one.

Part 1: From Charlotte County to Washington’s Guard

James Johnston was born in Charlotte County, Virginia, around 1756, though no exact record of his birth has survived. Like many Revolutionary War soldiers, much of his early life remains in shadow. Even the identities of his parents are uncertain, despite Johnston referring to them in later accounts. What we do know begins in November 1776, when he made the decision to leave home and enlist in the Continental Army for a three-year term.

He joined the 14th Virginia Regiment under Colonel Charles Lewis and soon marched north to join George Washington’s army at Morristown, New Jersey. At that stage of the war, the Continental Army was still finding its footing. Enlistments were short, supplies were inconsistent, and discipline varied widely from unit to unit. Yet within a matter of months, Johnston distinguished himself.

On May 1, 1777, he was selected for the Commander in Chief’s Guard, an elite corps formed to protect Washington personally, as well as the army’s funds and official documents. This was one of the most trusted assignments in the army. Officers were instructed to select men known for their honesty, sobriety, and reliability. Washington also had a preference for appearance, requesting soldiers who were well built, neat, and presentable. Johnston’s selection tells us a great deal about how he was viewed by those who knew him. He was not simply capable. He was dependable.

Continue reading ““In the Ranks of the Revolution: James Johnston’s War””

“They are, after all, so very much like us:” Jeff Shaara’s John Adams

Emerging Revolutionary War is pleased to welcome guest author Marianne Holdzkom, author of Remembering John Adams: The Second President in History, Memory and Popular Culture.

Several years ago, I set out to write a comprehensive history and memory study of John Adams. I did not want to write a straight biography of him.  Other scholars have done this, and I could not add anything to their work. What I wanted to do instead is examine how historians and creative artists have represented him. I also wanted to discuss how he has been memorialized—or not as in the case of Washington, D.C.

The result of my efforts was Remembering John Adams: The Second President in History, Memory and Popular Culture (McFarland, 2023). I finished the manuscript knowing that I had covered all my bases, proud of what I had accomplished. I had even done my best to wade through the difficult poetry of Ezra Pound for the project!

Yet, I missed something. I believed I had found all the literature references to John Adams, but one book escaped my attention. I am not sure how that happened because I am familiar with the author and his other works. Still, Jeff Shaara’s Rise to Rebellion (2001) in which John Adams plays a significant role, escaped my attention.  This is an oversight that I regret, and I would like to rectify it now.

Rise to Rebellion isa novel about the beginning of the American Revolution.  In it, Shaara followed a formula designed to humanize the history he covered by focusing on key players and centering the narrative around their perspectives. Understanding that the Revolution was not just the war, Shaara traced developments on both sides of the Atlantic through the eyes of Benjamin Franklin, General Thomas Gage, George Washington, and John Adams. In reflecting on his character choices for this novel, Shaara made a keen observation about the world of 2001:

It has become fashionable in our modern, more cynical time to reexamine our history, to throw a supposedly new light on those who are famous for their accomplishments, to instead expose their faults, to topple the statue of the hero, to replace the honor and respect with the sensational and the shameful, as though it were the only meaningful way these characters can be relevant to today’s world. I most adamantly disagree.[1]

Shaara continued by arguing that these people are “so very much like us.” [2]   It is this understanding that leads Shaara to the humanity of all his characters, including John Adams.  While the writer does not put Adams on a pedestal, he also avoids the more popular portrayals of the founder.  The “obnoxious and disliked” trope so often attached to John Adams robs him of his three-dimensionality. In this novel, as in other works of literature, Adams is more than the impatient, shrill annoyance that the public often sees in popular culture. In Shaara’s book, the reader sees his journey from successful lawyer to reluctant yet passionate revolutionary.  This is, in part, because of the period the book covers.

Shaara focused this novel on a timeframe from March 1770 through the summer of 1776. The so-called Boston Massacre of 1770 marked a turning point in the relationship between England and Massachusetts, but it also brought John Adams to the forefront of the conflict.  Adams played a key role in the Boston Massacre trials, not as an advocate for the five victims of the shootings, but as the defense attorney for the soldiers accused of murder. Shaara began his narrative by recreating the events of March 5, 1770, through the eyes of these soldiers. We first meet John Adams as he is responding to the shooting. In these early scenes, Shaara revealed several layers of Adams’s personality.  We see the citizen of Boston, confused over what has happened and desperately seeking answers, but we also see the husband and father, concerned for the safety of his family. We meet his remarkable wife, Abigail, for the first time, pregnant and amazingly calm given the circumstances. Shaara took this opportunity to recount the grief John and Abigail were still feeling over the death of their baby daughter, Suzanna. This is part of their storyline that is rarely covered in popular culture.[3] Adding this to his narrative adds a dimension to Adams that is refreshing.

One of Shaara’s talents as a writer is to depict introspection. To know the characters of this novel, the reader must see their thought processes. For John Adams, Shaara placed him where he was most happy: his farm in Braintree.  In a remarkable section of chapter five, we see Adams enjoying a summer day, walking his land and thinking about how the crisis with England had evolved. We witness John’s perspective, his struggle to understand what had changed and why the English were reacting in the way they were. At the same time, Shaara provided the reader with needed exposition. As Adams traces the events since 1765 to the moment of the Boston Massacre, the reader is led through the history to that point. Yet this is also personal for Adams. We see him understand the English perspective, but we also witness his anger at them and his dark thoughts about where the crisis would end both for the colonies and for him. This brooding is quintessential John Adams and Shaara captured it brilliantly. Yet Shaara also examines why John’s introspection did not consume him. That was thanks to Abigail.

As with other artists and historians, Shaara could not ignore the relationship between John and Abigail. We have a keen understanding of the bond between them thanks to their correspondence. Some 1100 letters between them exist. Using this source, Shaara gives his reader a glimpse into their marriage. As a result, he further humanizes John.

John confides to Abigail his concerns about his own ambition but also predicts to her that unless things change in London, there will be a revolution in America. He laments not being present for his children, but vows to be a father of whom they can be proud. She reassures him every step of the way, but she also shares her own concerns.

In one scene, Shaara creates a moment between John and Abigail, the conversation born from Abigail’s most famous letter to John. John is home in December 1775 and lamenting all that she has to do while he is away. She, in turn, is telling him about all that she has learned to do out of necessity. As she is wondering about independence and government, she asks, “when you speak of the people just whom are you referring to? In your new code of laws can it be hoped that you will perhaps remember the ladies? Can it be within your male spirit to allow some authority to flow our way?”[4] Recreating this exchange in this way, we witness Abigail making John squirm. He responds awkwardly, explaining the complexities of suffrage. She does not let him off the hook, but laughs and says, “All those fancy words and they may as well fall in a jumble over a cliff.”[5] This is one of my favorite scenes in the entire novel for in it, we see the remarkable relationship between these two complicated people.

As events move toward the vote for independence in the congress, John, once again in Philadelphia, has embraced his leadership role. Like other creative artists, Shaara, out of necessity, invents the speech that John gives in favor of independence. We don’t know exactly what Adams said during the final debate on July 1st; his words were not recorded. Adams never recollected what he said. Perhaps this is because he had said it all before. In a letter to fellow delegate, Samual Chase, he lamented, “That Debate took up the most of the day, but it was an idle Mispence of Time for nothing was Said, but what had been repeated and hackneyed in that Room before an hundred Times for Six Months past.”[6] 

At the end of the created speech Adams gives in the novel, Shaara set up a wonderful moment between Adams and Franklin. “We are a people who have shown the world we can help ourselves, that we have the God-given strength to stand for our liberty.  God help us? No, sir.  May God bless us.” After the vote for independence, Adams then asks Benjamin Franklin, “Was I right, Doctor?  Will God bless us?” Franklin responds, “He already has, Mr. Adams.”[7]

Throughout Rise to Rebellion, John Adams emerges as a man centered in the law and his farm but conflicted about the changing world around him. We see a warm relationship with Abigail and his children while, at the same time, we witness the leader he became. Jeff Shaara has presented his readers with a three-dimensional human being, not perfect by any means. He is driven by passion, his love for his family, and the law, yet he is not always secure in his own abilities. The historical John Adams would approve.


Marianne Holdzkom, Professor of History at Kennesaw State University, is the author of Remembering John Adams: The Second President in History, Memory and Popular Culture. She is also an Adams Memorial Foundation Scholar.

[1] Jeff Shaara, Rise to Rebellion: A Novel of the American Revolution (New York: The Random House Publishing Group, 2001;2002), x.

[2] Ibid.

[3] One of the few exceptions is the PBS series The Adams Chronicles

[4] Shaara, 448.

[5] Shaara, 449.

[6] John Adams to Samuel Chase, 1 July 1776,” Founders Online, National Archives, https://founders.archives.gov/documents/Adams/06-04-02-0142. 

[7] Shaara, 523; 527.