Review: Matthew E.  Reardon, The Traitor’s Homecoming: Benedict Arnold’s Raid on New London, Connecticut, September 4-13, 1781.

Emerging Revolutionary War welcomes guest historian Riley Sullivan, Professor of History at San Jacinto College in Houston, Texas.

While many might be familiar with famed engagements at places like Bunker Hill, Saratoga, and Yorktown during the Revolutionary War, few are familiar with the actions that took place near New London, Connecticut in September of 1781. However, for the people of Connecticut, the battles that took place near Groton Heights and New London have been immortalized as a campaign highlighted by treachery and massacre. Largely, this interpretation has been adopted due to the commander of the British forces who engaged in this raid, Benedict Arnold.

Perhaps no other name in American History brings about more scorn than that of Benedict Arnold. Having defected to the British cause late in the Revolutionary War, for Americans at the time–and even today–he is viewed as a modern day Judas. However, with such infamy ultimately comes much misinterpretation of this historical figure and the events he was involved in. In Matthew E. Reardon’s recent study The Traitor’s Homecoming, he attempts to undo much of this misinterpretation. Drawing on previously unused primary sources, Reardon constructs an engaging argument that challenges the traditional view of Arnold’s conduct in the New London raid.

To construct this narrative of the New London raid, Reardon attempts to place into context the setting of the New London raid. By this stage in the war, the conflict in New York had been a state of stalemate for the previous few years. However, with Generals Washington and Rochambeu’s combined Franco-American forces on the move, the British commander in the region, Henry Clinton—informed by faulty intelligence as Reardon demonstrated—was convinced that an attack on New York was imminent. As a result, to divert Washington’s attention away from a possible attack on New York, Clinton authorized Arnold to lead a contingent of British troops to attack the vulnerable Connecticut coastline.

New London made the ideal target for a British raid as it had been a hotbed for commerce and privateering for the Patriot cause. To conduct such a raid, Clinton turned to Arnold as he was both a native of Connecticut and familiar with the New London area. Largely only being contested by militia behind a number of forts that guarded approaches to both the town and the Thames River, Arnold’s combined force of Loyalists, Hessian Jaegers, and British regulars made quick work of the Patriot militia throughout the campaign. Even with New London in their hands, outside events–notably Clinton’s realization that Washington was moving on Cornwallis at Yorktown–led to Arnold having to relinquish his gains. However, with the high casualties suffered by both sides during the raid, coupled with the burning of much of the town, the events “cemented Benedict Arnold’s reputation for villainy.” (x)

When considering the traditional interpretation of Arnold’s raid on New London, Reardon makes it clear throughout his work that a “distorted interpretation” of the events had emerged (ix). From veterans to the Groton Battle Monument at Fort Griswold Battlefield State Park, the events that took place in Connecticut in 1781 have been enshrined as a massacre of Connecticut militia at the hands of Arnold. However, when looking at contemporary letters, diaries, and later pension records, Reardon demonstrates that there are some noticeable gaps within the traditional account of this campaign. In particular, when examining the death of Colonel William Ledyard–who was alleged to have been killed while attempting to surrender–Reardon concluded that through these sources, the traditional accounts accepted proved to be inconsistent with contemporary accounts of the campaign.

But, even with these inconsistencies, this is not to say that the fighting at Fort Griswold and the subsequent burning of New London was less than brutal. Reardon wrote that “the immediate reaction of the community was shock” and that “for many it was beyond comprehension.” (339) To no surprise, this sheer shock of the fighting coupled with Arnold’s involvement led to this distorted narrative of the campaign.

Through the examination of contemporary letters, diaries, and later pension applications, Reardon is able to reconstruct in great detail the events of Arnold’s New London raid and offer an unbiased narrative. By providing these fresh sources in The Traitor’s Homecoming, Reardon effectively builds on the existing literature of the subject and demonstrates how public perception can lead to the misinterpretation of historical events like that of the New London raid.

Details:

Matthew E.  Reardon, The Traitor’s Homecoming: Benedict Arnold’s Raid on New London, Connecticut, September 4-13, 1781. Published by: Savas Beatie LLC. Summer 2024. 448 Pages.

*Check out Emerging Revolutionary War’s YouTube page as well for a “Rev War Revelry” interview with author Matthew E. Reardon.*

Captain James Wallace’s Tumultuous June 1775 in Narragansett Bay

Katy in her later service as the Continental Navy ship Providence. “Sloop Providence under Sail by Kristopher Battles” (Naval History and Heritage Command)

Since his brief visit in November 1774 and his longer term stay commencing in December, Captain James Wallace of the British ship Rose (20 guns), had patrolled Narragansett Bay to enforce the Coercive Acts and prevent Britain’s rebellious colonies from importing gunpowder and armaments.  Loyalists had taken heart and rebels had been frustrated with his presence.   Not only were his patrols interfering with local commerce by seizing ships and their cargos—his main mission—but he created a more visible symbol of Britain’s ability and willingness to force its colonists to comply with Parliament’s laws.  

                One of the loyalists encouraged by the Royal Navy presence in Narragansett Bay was a Newport merchant named George Rome.  Wallace had visited Rome and was dining with him when a breathless messenger warned the captain that a mob was out to tar and feather him back in December, 1774.  In the moment, nothing came of it, but Governor Joseph Wanton warned Wallace that the town was not safe for British officers, sailors, or loyal subjects.  Things remained at a low simmer that winter and spring, including the initial weeks after the Lexington and Concord.  Tensions, however, could not help but rise.  Diarist Ezra Stiles, recorded on May 23 that some 90 Rhode Island soldiers under the command of Captains [John] Topham and [Thomas] Tew marched from the Newport courthouse and through town beating up volunteers to join the nascent American Army.  Wallace was dining in town that day and no doubt heard the racket.[1]  Stiles wrote, “The Tories were greatly mortified to see the daring Boldness of the Rebels as they called them.   The Tories had said that the Men o’War would fire the To[wn] if any Soldiers were raised in it.  But there was no Molestation.”  From Stiles’ version of events, the march appears as nothing less than a provocation to determine whether the rumored threat of Wallace and his ships to Newport proper was a bluff.  The lack of an immediate response may have demonstrated that it was.  In truth, a significant portion of Newport’s population opposed the rebels and voluntarily supplied Wallace and contracted for grain to provide to the British army.

Continue reading “Captain James Wallace’s Tumultuous June 1775 in Narragansett Bay”

Blue and Gray Education Society Announces “Cradle of the Revolution” Tour with Emerging Revolutionary War.

We are excited to announce that ERW historians Rob Orrison and Mark Maloy will be leading a four day tour of Boston and sites associated with the opening of the American Revolution. Part of BGES’ Field University Program, this tour is part of a series of tours that BGES is hosting focusing on the American Revolution.

From the BGES website: “Long considered the “Cradle of the Revolution,” Boston, Massachusetts, was home to many of the era’s leading figures—Dr. Joseph Warren, Samuel Adams, Paul Revere, John Adams, and many more. Its streets and wharves fostered the revolutionary spirit that would ignite a continent. In December 1773, tensions escalated dramatically when dozens of Bostonians and others boarded three ships at Griffin’s Wharf and dumped East India Company tea into the harbor in defiance of the Tea Act. Parliament soon responded with the punitive “Intolerable Acts,” placing Massachusetts under military control.

The powder keg exploded on April 19, 1775, when British Regulars and American colonists clashed on Lexington Green, spilling the first blood of the American Revolution. That day, a running battle raged from Concord to Cambridge—an opening salvo immortalized as the “shot heard ‘round the world.”

Join us during this 250th anniversary year for a multi-exploration of Boston and the nearby villages of Lexington and Concord. We’ll visit the pivotal sites and relive the moments that launched the Revolution, concluding with the dramatic engagements along the now-famous Battle Road.”

To purchase tickets, visit: https://blueandgrayeducation.org/tours/cradle-of-the-revolution-boston-to-lexington-and-concord/ Blue and Gray Education Society is a 501c3 created in 1994 to promote understanding of battlefields and other historic sites through the conduct of field study tours and seminars. BGES has sponsored many education and interpretive focused projects across the country.

Captain James Wallace, R.N., Faces Rebellion in 1775

RI Governor Joseph Wanton (Wikimedia Commons)

James Wallace of the Royal Navy commanded the twenty-gun Rose and arrived in Narragansett Bay on November 5, 1774.  Over the next six months, it served as a base to maintain his ship and operate in the waters off Connecticut and Rhode Island to enforce the Coercive Acts passed earlier that year and prevent the colonies from importing guns, gunpowder, or other armaments.  The Rhode Island Assembly took advantage of Wallace’s brief absence in December to remove most of the armaments from Fort George, which protected Newport, and take them to Providence, ostensibly to defend the colony from Canadians and Native Americans.  Of course, they were also farther from British reach.  The governor was explicit with Captain Wallace about the motivation: “they had done it to prevent their falling into the hands of the King, or any of his servants; and that they meant to make use of them, to defend themselves against any power that shall offer to molest them.”[i]  Wallace sensed rebellion in the air and promptly asked the governor, Joseph Wanton, whether he [Wallace] might expect assistance in carrying out the king’s policies in Rhode Island.  The answer was a swift “no.”  

Nevertheless, Wallace remained ashore, as officers and seamen did when a ship was in port.  As if to confirm local sensibilities, Wallace heard that a mob threatened to seize, tar, and feather him while he dined ashore.  He quickly ordered his pinnace and cutter—boats from the Rose—to be manned and summoned men to his temporary quarters.  He waited six hours, but no mob appeared.  Not wanting to over-react to rumors, he again wrote the governor to ask about the rumored mob and determine whether Wanton would use his powers in Wallace’s defense.  Wanton declined to respond in writing, but assured Wallace’s messenger that “they,” meaning the men assembled on the streets, did not intend to insult Wallace. Instead, Wanton himself feared local rebels might assault him and the town.  He gave the messenger, and by extension Wallace, the impression that Newport was not safe for the King’s subjects, including the ships, officers, and crew of the Royal Navy.[ii] It was unwelcome news for the naval officer, as Vice Admiral Samuel Graves, commanding the North American Station, expected Wallace and Rose to winter over in the bay.  

Continue reading “Captain James Wallace, R.N., Faces Rebellion in 1775”

“I wish we could have something of this kind to do every day,” The Battle of Chelsea Creek, May 27-28, 1775

Following the initial skirmishes at Lexington and Concord on April 19, 1775, colonial militias from throughout New England converged around Boston, with the area of Cambridge and Roxbury serving as the epicenters of the camps. These New England militia effectively layed siege to the city where British General Thomas Gage concentrated after April 19th. The British, cut off from the countryside, relied heavily on supplies brought in by sea. At the same time, American forces were eager to secure resources and deny the British any additional supplies from nearby coastal areas.

The location of the HMS Diana is marked with “16” on the map

One such resource-rich area was Noddle’s Island and Hog Island both located in Boston Harbor. These islands contained valuable livestock and hay, which the British had been attempting to secure to feed their troops and horses. American intelligence reported that the British were planning to remove these resources, prompting a proactive operation by the colonial forces to beat them to it.

In early May, Dr. Joseph Warren led a group inspecting the islands and recognized their imporance. As part of the Massachusetts Committee of Safety, Warren led the effort for a reslolution to be passed to either capture or destroy the supplies on the islands. On May 14th, the Committee stated “Resolved, as their opinion, that all the live stock be taken from Noddle’s Island and Hog Island, and from that part of Chelsea near the sea coast, and be driven back; and that the execution of this business be committed to the selectmen of the towns of Medford, Malden, Chelsea, and Lynn, and that they be supplied with such a number of men, as they shall need, from the regiments now at Medford.” Soon the commander of the New England army around Boston, General Artemas Ward, put a plan in motion to quickly strike both islands.

The American expedition was led by Colonel John Stark and Colonel Israel Putnam, both future generals in the Continental Army. The colonial forces, primarily composed of New Hampshire and Massachusetts militias, planned a nighttime amphibious raid to remove the livestock and destroy hay supplies that might benefit the British. On the night of May 27, colonial forces quietly moved onto Hog Island and began driving off livestock and burning haystacks. British forces, stationed in Boston and alerted to the colonial activity, responded by dispatching marines and the British schooner HMS Diana, a lightly armed but maneuverable vessel well-suited for operations in the shallow waters of the harbor.

As the colonists worked to transport livestock to the mainland, they encountered resistance from British marines who had landed on Noddle’s Island and began advancing toward their position. A sharp skirmish ensued, during which the American militia used the terrain to their advantage, fighting from behind trees, stone walls, and other natural cover. The colonial forces managed to repel the British marines, inflicting casualties and forcing a retreat.

Lieutenant Thomas Graves (nephew of Vice Admiral Samuel Graves) commander of the HMS Diana. Shown in his rear admiral uniform in ca. 1801. Often confused with Lord Thomas Graves, British commander during the Battle of the Capes

The turning point of the engagement came with the involvement of the HMS Diana. The schooner attempted to support the marines by moving up the narrow Chelsea Creek to engage the colonial militia and cut off their withdrawal. However, as the tide receded and the ship ventured too far inland, it became grounded in the shallow, muddy waters.

Seeing an opportunity, the colonists brought up field artillery from shore and opened fire on the stranded vessel. Over the course of the battle, they subjected the Diana to intense musket and cannon fire. Unable to refloat the ship due to the falling tide and increasing colonial pressure, the British crew was forced to abandon it. American forces quickly boarded the vessel, stripped it of usable supplies, weaponry and its 76 foot mast, and then set it ablaze, destroying the schooner completely.

The Battle of Chelsea Creek resulted in a clear American victory, both strategically and psychologically. The destruction of the HMS Diana marked the first loss of a Royal Navy vessel in the Revolutionary War, dealing a symbolic blow to British morale. For the colonists, it was a tangible demonstration of their ability to challenge British authority not only on land but at sea.

Major General Israel Putnam said after the fight
on Chelsea Creek “I wish we could have
something of this kind to do every day,”

Tactically, the victory helped to solidify American control of the Boston-area islands and limited the British army’s ability to forage for supplies. This contributed to the worsening conditions inside besieged Boston and increased pressure on General Gage. The morale boost for the colonial militias was significant; it reinforced the notion that British troops and naval forces were not invincible and that well-coordinated militia operations could succeed.

In addition, the battle was notable for showcasing early instances of American military ingenuity and leadership. Figures like Israel Putnam and John Stark went on to distinguish themselves in later battles, and the ability of the militia to effectively coordinate a land-sea operation foreshadowed the more sophisticated tactics that would develop over the course of the war. A few months later on August 1st, the mast of the HMS Diana was raised on Prospect Hill as a liberty pole. A symbol that was seen by not just the Americans around Cambridge but also the British in Boston. This location was also where legend states that George Washington ordered the first American flag, the Grand Union, to be raised on January 1, 1776.

While over shadowed by Lexington, Concord, or Bunker Hill, the Battle of Chelsea Creek played a crucial role in the early war. It helped secure the outer perimeter of the Siege of Boston, denied the British critical supplies, and emboldened the colonial cause at a time when confidence was still fragile. The success of the operation, including the destruction of the Diana, offered a dramatic image of colonial resistance and ingenuity that resonated beyond New England.

Today, the location of Noddle’s and Hog Island are gone. Nineteenth century and modern infill has completely reshaped the area from mudflats and tidal marshes to buildable land. Modern day East Boston, Winthrop and Logan Airport cover the area. The community of Somerville contines to commemorate the raising of the Grand Union flag on January 1 Diana‘s mast with a flag raising ceremony. Though mostly forgotten, the fighting along Chelsea Creek continued to embolden men like Joseph Warren and Israel Putnam and encourage their agressiveness a few weeks later on the Charlestown peninsula.

Freedom is a Light for Which Many Men Have Died in Darkness

Remember this Memorial Day the approximately 25,000 Patriots who died to secure the independence and liberty of the United States between 1775 – 1783. They died all across the continent in battle, in prisons, and in hospitals. In Philadelphia stands a monument to the Tomb of the Unknown Revolutionary War Soldier. The memorial stands in Washington Square, just a few blocks from Independence Hall. Washington Square was an 18th-century burying ground for the destitute, a Potter’s Field. During the Revolutionary War, it was used as a burying ground for both American and British soldiers who died of disease or were killed in nearby battles.

Not as famous as the Tomb of the Unknowns in Arlington Cemetery, this one was completed in 1957. The year before, archaeologists found the remains of a soldier who had a musket ball wound in his skull. They took these remains and placed them in a sarcophagus with the words: “Beneath this stone rests a soldier of Washington’s army who died to give you liberty.” He lies as a representative of the thousands of men who gave their lives during the brutal war. In front of the tomb, an eternal flame flickers in remembrance of the dead. A statue of the soldier’s commander George Washington looks over him. Behind Washington are the words: “Freedom is a light for which many men have died in darkness.” On one side is a quote from Washington’s Farewell Address: “The independence and liberty you possess are the work of joint councils and joint efforts of common dangers, suffering and success.” On the other, an explanation of the significance of the site: “In unmarked graves within this square lie thousands of unknown soldiers of Washington’s Army who died of wounds and sickness during the Revolutionary War.”

In the plaza of the square are multiple Revolutionary War era flags. The site is somber and inspiring. It was a place of somber reflection even while the war was being fought. On April 13, 1777, John Adams walked through the burying ground and wrote to his wife Abigail what he saw:

“I have spent an Hour, this Morning, in the Congregation of the dead. I took a Walk into the Potters Field, a burying Ground between the new stone Prison, and the Hospital, and I never in my whole Life was affected with so much Melancholly. The Graves of the soldiers, who have been buryed, in this Ground, from the Hospital and bettering House, during the Course of the last Summer, Fall, and Winter, dead of the small Pox, and Camp Diseases, are enough to make the Heart of stone to melt away. The Sexton told me, that upwards of two Thousand soldiers had been buried there, and by the Appearance, of the Graves, and Trenches, it is most probable to me, he speaks within Bounds.”

Two weeks later he wrote to the unborn millions who became the beneficiaries of these mens’ ultimate sacrifice: “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.”

Remember them this Memorial Day!

“Rev War Revelry” Bullet Strikes from the First Day of the American Revolution

Much has been written about the “shot heard around the world,” as the poet Ralph Waldo Emerson eloquently wrote in the 19th century. Yet, what about those actual shots? The musket balls fired on April 19, 1775? What was the damage, and how does this material culture history add to our overall understanding of the events that unfolded on that fateful day? Thanks to historian Joel Bohy, who is part of a duo of historians, along with Doug Scott, we now have insight into that answer.

Using forensic techniques, seemingly straight out of CSI, the authors have done painstaking research into the bullet holes and artifacts struck by bullets to shed even more light on the events that unfolded along Battle Road, Lexington, and Concord on the first day of the American Revolution.

Join Emerging Revolutionary War for this pre-recorded “Rev War Revelry” this Sunday evening at 7 p.m. EDT with author Joel Bohy as he explains the history and research behind this book. A much-needed addition to any Revolutionary War enthusiast’s bookshelf!

Major John Van Dyk and the Bones of Major John André. Part I

Emerging Revolutionary War welcomes historian and educator Jeffrey Collin Wilford to the blog. A brief biog is at the bottom of this post. A list of sources will be at the bottom of the concluding Part III.

Major John André and John Van Dyk: Continental Artillery Soldier 

Much has been written about the betrayal of America by Benedict Arnold. However, one small but candidly morbid fact buried in the story has not. It relates to the disposition of British Major John André’s remains as they lay in a wooden ossuary on a British mail ship on the banks of the Hudson River while awaiting their return to England in 1821. The only recorded recollection of this event was in a letter written by a 67-year-old former Revolutionary War soldier and published in a Virginia newspaper in 1825. This man also happened to be one of the four officers who escorted André to the gallows in Tappan, New York, on October 2, 1780. 

John Van Dyk lived a storied life, serving America as a militiaman, Continental Artillery soldier, customs officer, New York City assessor, and assistant alderman. He came from an old Dutch family that had settled in the original New Amsterdam colony, which would eventually become Manhattan. There is ample evidence that, in 1775, he was actively involved in significant acts of disobedience against British rule with other “Liberty Boys,” as the New York Sons of Liberty preferred to call themselves. 

One of these acts was stealing muskets and cannons from the Royal Armory and Fort George.  Under the encouragement of Isaac Sears and Marinus Willett,  he was one of a crowd of colonists who broke into the Royal Arsenal at City Hall on April 23, 1775, stealing  550 muskets, bayonets, and related munitions. The angry mob had been spurred to act by the attacks on their fellow countrymen the week previous at Lexington and Concord in Massachusetts. Every person who took a musket was required to sign for it, signaling a promise to return it if it was needed to fight against British occupation. That call came on July 4, 1775, when the New York Provincial Congress ordered them recalled to outfit newly commissioned  Colonel Alexander McDougall’s 1st New York Regiment. It was relayed that anyone who refused would be deemed an enemy of the state. In all, 434 muskets were returned. 

Exactly four months later, Captain John Van Dyk was one of sixty or so men who, under Liberty Boys Colonel John Lasher and Colonel John Lamb, executed the orders of the New York Provincial Congress to remove the cannon from Fort George at the southern tip of Manhattan and drag them back to the area of City Hall. With tensions high in the city, the state leaders feared they would be turned against the colonists if they were left in the hands of the British. One of the militia members assisting in the removal effort was 19-year-old King’s College student Alexander Hamilton of the Hearts of Oak independent militia. By this time, civil unrest had relegated the British colonial government to operating from naval ships anchored in New York Harbor, which made keeping the cannon secure from a more agitated population nearly impossible. 

Just before midnight on August 23, 1775, a skirmish ensued between  Lasher and Lamb’s men removing the cannon, and a British barge near the shore. It had been sent to monitor the rebels’ activity by Captain George Vandeput from the HMS Asia, a 64-gun British warship anchored near shore. Musket shots rang out, presumably started by the British, which resulted in the killing of a King’s soldier on the barge. As a result, the Asia turned broadside and opened fire with their cannons in a barrage on the city that lasted for three hours. A city whose population had already been diminished by the fear of a coming conflict, shrunk even further due to the terror experienced that night.  

John Van Dyk spent most of the next eight years as an officer in General Henry Knox’s artillery while under the command of Colonel John Lamb.  During the war, he saw action at Brooklyn, Harlem Heights, White Plains, Trenton, Brandywine, Germantown, Crosswicks Creek, Monmouth, and Short Hills. He was also at both Morristown winter encampments and Valley Forge. In 1780 he was captured by the British off the coast of New Jersey and confined on the prison ship HMS Jersey in Brooklyn before being released that summer.  

Van Dyk had spent months out of commission in late 1779 and early 1780 with what, according to his symptoms, was probably malaria or yellow fever.  He petitioned General Knox, who, in turn, appealed to General Washington for leave to recuperate. Making his way to West Point to meet with General Washington he was instructed by the Commander-in-Chief’s aide-de-camp to be evaluated by Dr. John Cochran, physician and surgeon general of the army of the Middle Department. On Cochran’s recommendation, General Washington wrote to President Samuel Huntington asking that the Continental Congress grant Van Dyk’s petition for an 8-month Furlow to sea to convalesce, which was common at the time as it was believed the fresh sea air was helpful to healing. Approved, it would take six months before he boarded the brig General Reed with a crew of 120 and 16 guns, a privateer out of Philadelphia commanded by  Samuel Davidson. Once aboard ship he was temporarily made a Lieutenant of Marines. 

Only two days into the voyage, on April 21, 1780, things took an immediate turn for the worse when they were intercepted and captured by the 28-gun HMS Iris and the 16-gun sloop HMS Vulture. The Iris was the former American warship USS Hancock, captured in July of 1777 and renamed by the British. Van Dyk was brought to Brooklyn and placed on the prison ship Jersey in Wallabout Bay, one of the most notorious and deadly places for holding American prisoners of war. Conditions were so poor that, while approximately 6,800 American soldiers died in battle during the Revolution, over 11,000 prisoners died on the Jersey alone! Fortunately for John Van Dyk, American officers were often traded off the Jersey for British officers who were in the custody of American forces. Within two months he was released and traveled to his temporary home of Elizabethtown, New Jersey to finish recuperating before rejoining Lamb’s artillery in Tappan, New York. 

John Van Dyk had experienced many horrors of war in the years and months leading up to the morning of September 21, 1780, when British Major John André, an Adjutant General to British General Sir Henry Clinton, left New York City and sailed up the Hudson River. This pivotal incident would brand one of Washington’s closest generals a traitor and lead to the death of the esteemed and well-liked André. Ironically, Major André traveled on the very same sloop that had assisted in the capture of Captain Van Dyk just six months earlier. 

Bio:

Jeffrey Wilford has been an educator in Maine for over 30 years where he holds certifications in history and science. He received a bachelor’s degree in communications with an emphasis in journalism from California State University – Fullerton and a master’s degree in education, teaching and learning, from the University of Maine. In addition to his career teaching, he has worked as a general assignment newspaper reporter and an assistant to the press secretary of former Maine Governor and US Congressman Joseph Brennen. He lives in Maine with his wife Nicolette Rolde Wilford.

250 Years Ago Today? The Myth and Mystery of the Mecklenburg Declaration

In the early days of American independence, few tales are as intriguing—or as controversial—as the story of the Mecklenburg Declaration of Independence. Allegedly signed on May 20, 1775, over a year before the more famous Declaration in Philadelphia, this document claimed that citizens of Mecklenburg County, North Carolina, boldly severed ties with the British crown. It’s a story of early patriotism, defiance, and pride—but also one mired in historical uncertainty.

According to legend, upon hearing news of the battles at Lexington and Concord, local leaders in Mecklenburg County convened an emergency meeting and drafted a declaration proclaiming themselves “free and independent.” The idea that North Carolina may have led the way in declaring independence is a point of pride for many in the state. In fact, May 20, 1775, the supposed date of the declaration, is emblazoned on the North Carolina state flag and seal.

Yet for all its emotional and symbolic power, the Mecklenburg Declaration has a major problem: there’s no evidence it ever existed.

No original copy has survived. In fact, the first known reference to the document didn’t surface until 1819, more than 40 years after the supposed event. That version was reconstructed from memory by elderly men who claimed to have seen or signed it in their youth. These recollections were written down decades after the fact, raising serious doubts about their reliability.

Most historians today believe the Mecklenburg Declaration is a misremembered version of the “Mecklenburg Resolves,” a very real and much better-documented set of statements issued on May 31, 1775. These resolves denounced British authority and called for local governance, but they stopped short of declaring full independence.

Despite the lack of hard evidence, the legend of the Mecklenburg Declaration persisted, particularly in North Carolina. Even Thomas Jefferson, the principal author of the national Declaration of Independence, was drawn into the controversy when some accused him of borrowing from the Mecklenburg document—an accusation he vigorously denied.

Today, the Mecklenburg Declaration stands as a symbol, if not a historical document: a reminder of the spirit of independence, the complexities of memory, and the way legends can shape our understanding of the past. Whether or not it was truly the first declaration of independence, it remains a proud part of North Carolina’s revolutionary heritage.

Francis Channing Barlow: Chief Marshal of Concord’s Centennial

Emerging Revolutionary War welcomes guest historian Andrea Quinn.

In April 1875, Concord, Massachusetts, commemorated the centennial of the American Revolution’s beginning with a celebration that merged historical remembrance with contemporary national healing. At the heart of this tribute stood Major General Francis Channing Barlow, chosen as Chief Marshal for the event. His presence and leadership embodied the spirit of both Concord’s revolutionary origins and the sacrifices of the recent Civil War. Though his life included many achievements—from battlefield valor to public service—it was in this role as Chief Marshal that Barlow served as a living link between generations of American struggle and aspiration.

Photo Credit: Library of Congress 1864 Photo General Francis Channing Barlow

Barlow’s appointment was no mere formality. A Civil War general known for integrity, courage, and commitment to reform, Barlow had deep ties to Concord. As a youth, he was shaped by the town’s intellectual and moral environment, attending lectures by Ralph Waldo Emerson and immersing himself in the ideals of Transcendentalism. This upbringing instilled in him a strong sense of civic duty, justice, and personal responsibility—qualities that defined his wartime leadership and post-war public service.

The Concord Centennial was intended as more than a local remembrance—it was a national event. The town’s planning committee sought a figure who could represent both the revolutionary past and the post-Civil War Union. Barlow, whose own life had traced the arc of American idealism—from Brook Farm to the battlefields of Gettysburg and Spotsylvania—was their clear choice.

Continue reading “Francis Channing Barlow: Chief Marshal of Concord’s Centennial”