“Let’s All Sit Down Now and Have a Hearty Cry”

The summer of 1776 was tense on the Kentucky frontier. Since the spring, Shawnee raids from north of the Ohio had increased, with tribesmen raiding the white settlements with the intention of driving the settlers east, back across the mountains.

By the late spring, hardly more than 200 Americans remained in Kentucky, most forting up in the settlements south of the Kentucky River at Harrodsburg, Logan’s Station, and Boonesborough as war parties ranged nearby. Years later, an old settler remembered the rancid conditions of long confinements in “a row or two of smoky cabins, among dirty women and men with greasy hunting shirts.” By the summer, conditions in the forts were almost unbearable as supplies of salt and meat began to run low.

On the quiet Sunday afternoon of July 14, 1776, 13-year-old Jemima Boone, daughter of frontiersman Daniel Boone, slipped out of the log gates of Boonesborough with her friends Elizabeth (Betsy) and Frances (Fanny) Calloway. Tired of the confinement of the fort, the three girls untied the lone canoe of the settlement and pushed out into the Kentucky River for an old-style joy ride. Jemima would remember years later that her father had warned her to stay near the cabins and never cross to the other side of the river.

Betsy Calloway, 16, guided the canoe but it was soon caught up in the current and taken downstream toward the northern bank. A small mixed war party of Shawnees and Cherokees were watching the settlement from the woods across the river. They had been in the area for at least a week when they spotted the girls in the canoe. As the craft got close to the shore a warrior jumped into the river and grabbed the towline. Understanding immediately the danger they were in all three girls began to scream. The warriors brought the canoe to shore and quickly made signs to the girls of what would happen if they continued screaming. But the sounds had already alerted the settlers in the fort.

It was Sunday, the Sabbath and, as was his normal custom, Daniel Boone was lying down for his Sunday afternoon nap when he heard the commotion from out in the fort. Running out of his cabin in his bare feet, Boone joined with Richard Calloway, father of Betsy and Fanny, and several other men of the settlement as they eventually made their way to the opposite shore of the river and began tracking the war party as it made its way towards the crossing of the Licking River at the upper Blue Licks.

One of the Cherokee men in the party was named Scolacutta but known to the Americans as Hanging Maw. He knew Daniel Boone and his family and spoke a bit of English. He recognized Jemima as Boone’s daughter. Hanging Maw laughed at the joke they were playing on old Boone, Jemima remembered many years later, and confirmed they were headed for the Shawnee towns north of the Ohio. If the party managed to get across the big river, the rescue of the girls would most likely become impossible. As they were forced along the trail, the three girls dug their heels into the earth or dropped bits of material from their clothing; anything to give signs to anyone who may be following that they were on the right path.

By the morning of the second day, Boone and his party were roughly 10 miles behind the kidnappers. Now with a pretty good idea of where the war party was heading and understanding that, continuing to follow the tracks would slow them down considerably, Daniel Boone made the decision to break from the trail and speedily head for the Blue Licks. It was certainly a gamble but the men with Boone trusted his judgment. The Kentuckians moved out, setting a jogging pace.

As they got closer to the war party, the rescuers began finding the signs left for them by the kidnapped girls. They also came across muddled waters at a creek crossing, a dead snake along the trail and finally the carcass of a recently butchered buffalo calf. They knew they were getting close. Boone figured the warriors would stop to cook at the next water they came across. At a branch known today as Bald Eagle Creek, east of the current town of Sharpsburg, KY, the trail ended. Boone divided his party, with four men going up stream and four heading down.

After two days of hard travel with no sign of pursuit, the warriors began relax a bit. They would soon cross the Licking River and link up with other war parties so they began feeling confident. They made camp and began to roast the buffalo meat. The terrified girls were exhausted by being on the march. The camp was in a small, open glen. As the warriors lolled about the girls were sitting near the cook fire. Suddenly, Jemima Boone heard a noise in the brush. The sound caught the attention of one of the Shawnees who looked up but, seeing nothing, returned to his work. Glancing up along the nearby ridge, Jemima suddenly caught sight of her father. The girl remembered he was “creeping upon his breast like a snake.” Around 100 yards or so apart, the father and daughter locked eyes. Boone gave a quick signal for the girl to remain quiet.

The rest of Boone’s party were gathered up on the ridge when, in a fit of excitement, one of them fired his rifle down into the camp. Before she heard the shot, Fanny Calloway saw blood spurt from the chest of the warrior standing next to the campfire. He managed to hobble off into the brush. “That’s Daddy!” Jemima cried as she and the other girls hit the ground with shots filling the air from the rescue party above. Boone’s party rushed down into the camp among the startled warriors. Those tribesmen not hit by rifle fire managed to escape into the woods. All at once the terrible ordeal was over, for both father and daughter. “Thank Almighty Providence, boys,” Boone said, “for we have the girls safe. Let’s all sit down by them now and have a hearty cry.” Jemima Boone would long remember that “there was not a dry eye in the company.”

The story of the kidnapping and rescue would be retold in the Boone and Calloway families for generations. In the 19th century, historian Lyman Draper collected accounts of the story from at least forty people. This would become one of the most famous episodes in the life of Daniel Boone and provide the inspiration for author James Fenimore Cooper in his novel “The Last of the Mohicans”.

Sir Henry Clinton’s Close Encounter

Emerging Revolutionary War welcomes the contribution of Eric Olsen, Park Ranger/Historian at Morristown National Historical Park

Military history tends to be a lot of “so and so’s” brigade advanced on the left wing, while “what’s his face’s” division withdrew.” Lots of movements of large faceless masses of soldiers. Personally, I prefer the little personal stories of individuals in the face of battle. Here is one such story from the battle of Monmouth in June 1778. 

Sir Henry Clinton

I recently ran across this little tidbit in a July 7, 1778, letter written by the Adjutant General of the Hessian forces in America, Major Carl Leopold Baumeister. He described an incident during the battle of Monmouth involving the British commander in chief, Sir Henry Clinton. “General Clinton in the thickest fire, was saved by one of his adjutants, Captain Sutherland, when a rebel colonel aimed at him, but missed. Captain Sutherland’s horse was wounded. Another adjutant, Lloyd, stabbed the colonel.”

The story sounded vaguely familiar. Then I recalled something I’d read written by a British officer named Thomas Anbury. He was a prisoner of war, part of Burgoyne’s captured “Convention Army.” Anbury and the other prisoners were being held near Charlottesville, Virginia. At a place called Jones’s Plantation, Anbury related the following story on May 12, 1779,

“A very singular circumstance took place in that battle [Monmouth], which fully marks the coolness and deliberation, though in the heat of action, of Sir Henry Clinton: As he was reconnoitering, with two of his Aide de Camps, at the short turning of two roads, they met with an American officer, exceedingly well mounted upon a black horse, who, upon discerning them, made a stop, and looked as if he wished to advance to speak to them, when one of Sir Henry Clinton’s Aid de Camps fired a pistol at him, and he instantly rode off. Sir Henry was much displeased at his Aide de Camp, and censured him for being so hasty, adding, he was confident that the man wished to speak to him, and perhaps, might have given intelligence that would have been very essential, remarking, that when he was in Germany last war, and reconnoitering with Prince Ferdinand, a man rode up in a familiar manner, and gave such intelligence as decided the fate of the day.”

To read more about the Battle of Monmouth, check out “A Handsome Flogging, the Battle of Monmouth, June 28, 1778 by William Griffith, part of the Emerging Revolutionary War Series.

“Rev War Revelry” Sails into Boston Harbor to talk Tea Party

On December 16, 1773, a protest orchestrated by the Sons of Liberty in Boston, Massachusetts turned words into action. Upset over recently passed legislation and the belief that “no taxation without representation” 116 people dumped 342 chests of tea owned by the British East India Company into Boston Harbor. The event was one of the milestones on the way to the American Revolution and American independence. As the Boston Tea Party, as it is known to history, closes in on its 250th anniversary, Emerging Revolutionary War will invite Evan O’Brien, the creative director for the Boston Tea Party Ships and Museum this Sunday, June 25, evening for the next “Rev War Revelry.”

We hope you can join us at 7 p.m. EDT on Emerging Revolutionary War’s Facebook page for a discussion of the history behind and on December 16, 1773 and the efforts to commemorate and interpret that time frame. If you are contemplating venturing up to Boston in December to be in the city for the 250th anniversary of this event, you will not want to miss this discussion, as Evan will share some of what the museum has been planning to commemorate when Boston Harbor became a “tea-pot.”

“…but he whose heart is firm, and whose conscience approves his conduct, will pursue his principles unto death.” 

Thomas Paine wrote the line used as the title for this post in his pamphlet titled “American Crisis” in 1776. Most people recognize the opening lines that Paine penned in that same essay.

“These are the times that try men’s souls: The summer soldier and the sunshine patriot will, in this crisis, shrink from the service of their country; but he that stands it now, deserves the love and thanks of man and woman.”

However, on this Memorial Day, while reading through his essay, I was struck by the line I used for the title. Furthermore, by the far too numerous men who served in the militia and Continental service that lay in unknown or unmarked graves throughout the eastern United States. To them that gave the ultimate sacrifice in pursuit of the principles they held most dear, we remember on this day. To them and the thousands that came after and paid with their lives so others can have “life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness” we also remember today on this Memorial Day.

One of the main objectives of Emerging Revolutionary War is to visit the sites attributed to the American Revolutionary War era and to provoke interest and expand learning on the people, places, and history. That includes remembering those that lay in these unmarked graves “known only to God.”

Photos courtesy of Dan Welch.

Montgomery County, Maryland

Tell me I am not the only one that randomly goes on a car ride to a random town in their home state to just “see what is there?”

Regardless, that is what I decided to do on a sunny late April Sunday afternoon. I ended up in Rockville, Maryland. The town astride I-270 today was also on a major thoroughfare during both the 18th and 19th centuries that brought armies from the area, like General Edward Braddock’s in 1755 or General Jubal Early’s in 1864.

However, a different historical sign attracted my attention on this excursion.

I read the title and the first line, Richard Montgomery…Born in Ireland. Served..” Which was all I could read as I slowly drove by, since it is near the court house and county government buildings. Even though it was a Sunday still not wanting to speed through. So…Naturally, I pulled over, as evidenced by the vehicle you see in the background!

I knew Montgomery, as the sign reads, died at the Battle of Quebec in a futile attempt to take the city for the American cause. He was the first general–Continental–to die in the cause of American independence.

On September 6, 1776 Thomas Sprigg Wootton, who hailed from Rockville, introduced legislation in the Maryland Constitutional Convention to separate the Frederick County into three. The upper or most western half, to become Washington County, named in honor of George Washington and the lower half, or most eastern, to be named Montgomery, in honor of Richard Montgomery. The remaining middle portion would retain the name Frederick. This may be the first recorded instance in the rebellious British colonies of names of counties, towns, or cities that did not refer to something in British history or famous persons. Another act of defiance at the beginning of the American Revolution!

With a random Sunday excursion one never knows what one will find. History is all around us, beckoning to be explored.

Air Lafayettes?

Emerging Revolutionary War thanks historian Christian Di Spigna for the picture.

With the release of the motion picture, Air, about the recruitment to Nike of Michael Jordan in the 1980s, Emerging Revolutionary War wanted to bring our readers attention to an older model of a shoe. That predates Nike by a century and a half. But, who knows, could come into vogue again right?

The Marquis de Lafayette returned to the United States in August 1824 to September 1825 and toured all 24 states at the time. Feted as a living link to the American Revolution and the independence movement, he was dined, celebrated, and asked to speak at many, many events. Commemorative items were created in his image and likeness, including, apparently a pair of shoes.

These shoes can be viewed today at Old Sturbridge Village in Massachusetts. A link to their website and to plan a visit can be found here.

The American Revolutionary War in the West History Conference – October 27-29, 2023

This conference will focus on the military, political, social and material culture history of the western theater of the American Revolutionary war, featuring scholars from across the U.S. and from Spain.

Location: The Sheraton Westport Plaza Hotel, St. Louis County, Missouri

Speakers and Topics:

Larry L. Nelson—”George Rogers Clark, the Illinois Campaign, and American Ambitions in the West”

Robert M. Owens – “Jean Baptiste Ducoigne, the Kaskaskias, and Pragmatic Patriotism in the Revolutionary Era”

José Manuel Guerro Acosta – “Spain and the Support for the American Revolution”

Friederike Baer – “’O, how the Mississippi is costing us many a good man!’: German Soldiers in West Florida, 1779-1781”

Frances Kolb Turnbell – “Indian Politics and the American Politics in the Lower Mississippi Valley”

Stephen L. Kling, Jr. – “An Opportunity to be Seized: The British Grand Plan to Conquer the Entire Mississippi River Valley”

Alexander S. Burns – “The Worst Looking Soldiers and the Drunkest Men to Ever Carry a Musket?: The 8th Regiment and the War in the West”

Kristine L. Sjostrom – “Valentía y Visión: Lt. Governor Fernando de Leyba and the Defense of St. Louis” 

Kimberly Alexander – “O What Can These Things Tell Us: Material Culture at Revolutionary War St. Louis”

Jim Piecuch – “Fighting from Horseback: A Comparison of Revolutionary War Cavalry in the Eastern and Western Theaters”

Paul Douglas Lockhart – “For Want of a Good Musket and a Sharp Knife: Weaponry and Wilderness Warfare”

Evening Events: A cocktail reception will be held on Friday evening at 6:00pm at the Sheraton Westport Plaza Ballroom. A private party on Saturday evening at 6:30pm at the St. Charles County Heritage Museum will include a private tour of The American Revolutionary War in the West museum exhibit.

Registration:  Conference registration cost including evening events: $75.00. Registration can be made through the St. Charles County Historical Society by 1) mailing a check to The St. Charles County Historical Society, 101 S. Main St., St. Charles, MO 63301, Attn: Joan Koechig; 2) credit card or PayPal by calling at (636) 946-9828 MWF, 10am-3pm; or 3) online at scchs.org. Registrations are limited and will be filled on a first come, first served basis. Questions, call Melissa at: (314)-561-5077. NOTE, online registration will be available starting April 19, 2023.

Evacuation Day

Emerging Revolutionary War welcomes guest historian Christopher of The British-American Historian blog.

Almost two years after debating a joint French-American assailment of Lord Cornwallis’ precarious position in Yorktown, Virginia over Washington’s grand plan to recapture New York long after being swept from the city and its environs as independence was officially declared in 1776, the implacable Washington prepared to reenter New York in triumph.

Eight years after making New York the center of the British war effort in the American Revolution, the massive garrison was greatly reduced and preparing for its final retirement from the new nation. The new commander in chief of North America, Sir Guy Carleton, arrived in New York on May 5, 1782[1] to relieve Sir Henry Clinton. Carleton won accolades for holding Quebec City when the Continental Army struck during a late night blizzard, an accomplishment that was all the more vaunted now that the British were losing territory that did not include Canada. Carleton lost no time in notifying Washington of his arrival in an affable letter sent on May 7th, 1782 in which Carleton wrote “if the like pacific disposition should prevail in this country, both my inclination and duty will lead me to meet it with the most zealous concurrence”[2].

A notable disruption in the growing amity was the unresolved Asgill Affair. Exasperated with wanton assailments of loyalists in New Jersey, a prominent rebel militia commander named Joshua Huddy was plucked from the provost in New York by an American member of the Associated Loyalists[3]. The Associated Loyalists were presided over by William Franklin, the loyalist son of Benjamin who had endured arduous captivity before being exchanged[4]. In response to the wanton execution of Joshua Huddy, Washington ordered a British officer to await reprise. Charles Asgill was selected, but pleas from the French along with Washington’s honorable disposition prevailed and the captain was spared[5].

 The city and Long Island were swarming with thousands of loyal “Refugees” who had fled from every rebellious colony to seek the king’s protection. Ranging from itinerant tenant farmers to some of the largest landlords in America such as Beverly Robinson and Frederick Philipse, Carleton’s task of evacuating the troops could not be fulfilled until such persons were safely resettled in the empire. While many of the men joined provincial regiments that saw combat in the south (playing a pivotal role defending Savannah and being routed at Kings Mountain) and performed prodigious woodcutting on Lloyd Neck for the insatiable demand for firewood[6]flocks of women and children crowded the city. A subset of the refugees were former slaves who had flocked to the British cause for the promise of freedom under Dunmore’s Proclamation and the Philipsburg Proclamation, a promise Washington would vigorously contest in negotiations.

Continue reading “Evacuation Day”

Reading Sam Adams…part 2

My recent comments about Stacy Schiff’s The Revolutionary Samuel Adams got me thinking about some of John Adams’s thoughts about his second cousin. In particular, John shared a neat story about Sam’s secretiveness—a problem that has bedeviled biographers, including Schiff, because Sam didn’t leave behind a trove of documentary evidence the way other Founders did.

“I have seen him . . .” said John, “in Philadelphia, when he was about to leave Congress, cut up with his scissors whole bundles of letters, into atoms that could never be reunited, and throw them out at the window, to be scattered by the winds. This was in summer, when he had no fire. In winter he threw whole handfuls into the fire. As we were on terms of perfect intimacy, I have joked him, perhaps rudely, upon his anxious caution. His answer was, ‘Whatever becomes of me, my friends shall never suffer by my negligence.’”[1]

John admired Sam, 13 years his senior, a great deal. The two were hardly acquainted growing up, but as John started off his legal career in Boston, Sam—a great cultivator of talent—pegged him as someone to develop. As tensions in Boston grew between the Sons of Liberty, British officials, and far-off Parliament, Sam brought John into the inner circle because of John’s sharp legal mind. The decision paved John’s eventual path to national politics.

“Mr. Adams was an original,” John said of Sam, saying he was “born and tempered a wedge of steel. . . .”[2]

In his common appearance, he was a plain, simple, decent citizen, of middling stature, dress and manners. He had an exquisite ear for music, and a charming voice, when he pleased to exert it.—Yet his ordinary speeches in town meetings, in the house of representatives and in congress, exhibited nothing extraordinary; but upon great occasions, when his deeper feelings were excited, he erected himself, or rather nature seemed to erect him, without the smallest symptom of affectation, into an upright dignity of figure and gesture, and gave a harmony to his voice, which made a strong impression on spectators and auditors, the more lasting for the purity, correctness and nervous elegance of his style.[3]

John spoke on several occasions of Sam’s “an air of dignity and majesty.” He admired Sam’s “harmonious voice and decisive tone” and his “self-recollection, a self-possession, a self-command, a presence of mind that was admired by every man present. . . .”[4] He also listed “his caution, his discretion, his ingenuity, his sagacity, his self-command, his presence of mind, and his intrepidity” as traits that “commanded the admiration” of friend and foe alike—friends who applauded him and foes who could not help but respect Sam Adams’s considerable populist powers.[5]

It is little doubt why John later said, “Without the character of Samuel Adams, the true history of the American Revolution can never be written.”[6]


[1] “From John Adams to William Tudor, Sr., 5 June 1813,” Founders Online, National Archives, https://founders.archives.gov/documents/Adams/99-02-02-6054. 

[2] “From John Adams to William Tudor, Sr., 5 June 1813,” Founders Online, National Archives, https://founders.archives.gov/documents/Adams/99-02-02-6054. 

[3] “From John Adams to William Tudor, Sr., 15 April 1818,” Founders Online, National Archives, https://founders.archives.gov/documents/Adams/99-02-02-6883.

[4] “From John Adams to William Tudor, Sr., 15 April 1818,” Founders Online, National Archives, https://founders.archives.gov/documents/Adams/99-02-02-6883.

[5] “From John Adams to Jedidiah Morse, 1 January 1816,” Founders Online, National Archives, https://founders.archives.gov/documents/Adams/99-02-02-6563. 

[6] “From John Adams to William Tudor, Sr., 15 April 1818,” Founders Online, National Archives, https://founders.archives.gov/documents/Adams/99-02-02-6883.

Reading Sam Adams…

I’m currently reading Stacy Schiff’s new biography The Revolutionary Samuel Adams. It’s a snappy-to-read, deeply researched book—all the more challenging to write because Sam Adams made careful effort not to leave much of a paper trail about himself.  

Schiff uses her introduction to sketch out this fundamental problem, and in doing so, she creates a compelling flash portrait of Adams that the rest of the book fleshes out. Adams the historiographical sphinx is well served by this portrait. Sam Adams simultaneously led from the front yet operated in the shadows, an apparent contradiction that Schiff nonetheless portrays fully and effectively. 

As the book goes on, Schiff manages to pull from a deep well of primary sources, even if there’s not a mountain from Sam himself. She handles those sources adroitly and comfortably, plucking this bit from here and that bit from there the way a conductor works an orchestra.  

The result is an admiring but not fawning portrait of Adams—a man without whom, said cousin John, “the true history of the American Revolution can never be written.”[1] 

Troubling to me in the text is that, in the late 1760s and early 1770s, the Adams-led Sons of Liberty often employed mob violence—real and threatened—to achieve their aims. Propaganda efforts were often tethered to reality by only thinnest of meager threads, if at all. Men were intimidated, bullied, tarred and feathered, humiliated, assaulted, and run out of town for opposing or even just disagreeing with them. Houses were ransacked. Livelihoods destroyed. Reputations ruined. I could not help but think of the Klan in the Reconstruction-era South—a comparison no-doubt tantamount to sacrilege when talking about a group of Bostonians popularly and fondly remembered as patriots.  

Yet Schiff merrily skates over such rough terrain, sharing vivid details about incidents without exploring the moral morass this tension suggests. Her hero acts in decidedly less-than-heroic ways, arguing that the ends justify the means. We as readers are left to ponder this ambiguity ourselves. Such work on the reader’s part isn’t a bad thing, but it does strike me as somewhat of an abdication on the biographer’s part when the rest of the narrative is so cheerfully pro-Adams. 

Overall, The Revolutionary Samuel Adams is an excellent work so far, and I highly recommend it for anyone who wants a fuller understanding of how the wheels of Revolution started turning—and who started them. 


[1]“From John Adams to William Tudor, Sr., 5 June 1813,” Founders Online, National Archives, https://founders.archives.gov/documents/Adams/99-02-02-6054.