Students Explore the Revolution With Speakers Near and (Really) Far

Well, it’s been an astounding few days here at Arts High School. My classes have been busy, filled with lecture, student projects, documentaries and, of course, Skype teleconferences! Over the past five days I’ve been able to arrange three conferences with historical experts all over the globe on events concerning the American Revolution.

Arranging and conducting these teleconferences has quickly become one of the most exciting aspects of my job. Originally designed a few years ago as a ‘filler activity’ to take place the day before a long vacation, I now realize that I’ve stumbled upon the equivalent of an educational gold mine. The only regret I have is not realizing it earlier, but perhaps the technology wasn’t mature enough in year’s past. It is now.

When I was in high school, we rarely if ever had any guest speakers, and even ones that did manage to come in usually spoke about a subject only distantly related to whatever we were studying. I remember one year, perhaps I was a sophomore, when a Vietnam vet visited class to speak about the war. It was fascinating to hear his memories of the conflict, and how he found the cold nights in the mountains most insufferable. That’s something I would have never gotten from a textbook. Another time, my high school principal lectured to my history class about Mary Todd Lincoln and how stormy of a relationship she had with Abe. Though I found his talk interesting, my teacher was clearly upset that he had decided to intrude upon our study of World War II. Lincoln, of course, had nothing to do with it.

But in 2013 everything is different. Primary sources are much more widely available, and in my opinion there’s no better primary source than a living one. So I planned carefully in September and my plans and emails bore fruit when three tremendous scholars agreed to talk with my students via Skype, and on a topic directly under study.

Around Halloween, my Advanced Placement History class spoke with Dr. Joshua Newton at the Royal Maritime Museum in the U.K. Newton is an acknowledged expert on British history, especially as it pertains to the Atlantic, and he was ready for the challenge. Though he spoke for just 20 minutes, he told the students about the Revolution from a perspective they’ve rarely examined. He told the students of a Britain overconfidently stepping into conflict, only to become quickly overwhelmed as the American plan to transform the war into a global one succeeded beyond anyone’s dreams. Newton, while showing pictures and artifacts from the museum’s vast collections, reminded students of the vastness of the British Empire. The British, he stated, were spread too thin, with the French and Spanish attacking them in distant locales like the Caribbean and even off the coast of India. Students countered by asking him, in distant London, about modern-day British attitudes toward that war, and how the loss affected political life in Britain. As Newton spoke of vicious battles on the North Atlantic, I couldn’t help but be amazed at the fact that the very same cold, vast, stormy waters still stood between us, but now, communication was instant; unreal!

A day later, another class got the opportunity to discuss African-Americans in the war with Rutgers History Chair Paul Clemens in not-so-distant New Brunswick. One of the best features of these kinds of interactions is that I’m always learning something new from such expert, and this time was no different. Clemens challenged the students in their traditional notions of viewing the Revolution as a war of absolutes, of good against evil. Clemens spoke of Lord Dunmore’s Emancipation Proclamation of 1775, which was eventually extended to the entire 13 colonies. The British deal was simple: get to our lines, and you’re free, period. I knew this, but what I never considered was Clemens’ startling comment: “It makes you think…had the British won the war, in view of the proclamation, it would have been very likely that slavery would have died in North America, if not perhaps the entire New World.” Suddenly everyone’s view of the Revolution became considerably grayer, even mine.

Then there was this morning’s fascinating teleconference on John Paul Jones with yet another class. This time we took our search for naval history right to the source: to the Pentagon itself. There, at Naval Command, my class spoke with Dr. Dennis Conrad in the nexus of U.S. military power. Conrad was an animated speaker, filled with enthusiasm and gusto. He told the students about Jones’ raids on the British Isles. While not strategically impactful, he stated, psychologically the raids and the greater U.S. effort at sea probably shortened the war. Many of my students never knew how audacious the American military effort was, in that the U.S. actually took the war to the British Isles. 

Students then got the opportunity to speak with a few Navy commanders on more recent issues, particularly the “pivot” of the United States’ military efforts towards the Far East. When one student expressed worry over the risks of such a move in the face of growing Chinese and North Korean forces, one of the commanders reminded her that the mere presence of a carrier force, rather than its blatant use, is sometimes enough to preserve the peace, at least for a while. The same commander also reminded another student that the presence of war and sacrifice is not something that is beyond those working in the Pentagon, as many remember that day on September 11, 2001 when a sizable portion of that megastructure was obliterated by a hijacked jet. “The presence of that day is something that will linger here for as long as the building stands; believe me, people here don’t look at the war in Afghanistan theoretically; they take it personally.” After she said that, my students were simply speechless, but yet, filled with new learning and feeling.

Three speakers on two continents; three different sessions, but all unique…here I was able to provide my students with experiences that I could have never enjoyed back in the 1980’s. And to think, it’s only November…we still have most of the year ahead, and new people to meet from South Orange to South Carolina to South Korea…and beyond…

Hunters and Hunted in Newark After the Revolution

Newspaper Illustration of Runaway Slave, early 1800's

When teaching about the nature of personal freedom in the Newark of America’s early years (1800-1850), students at Arts High, and just about any high school, typically start out with an inaccurate picture. In their elementary years, New Jersey’s students are taught that before the Civil War, a person was either “free” or “slave.” But a quick glance through the archives of Newark’s earliest publications proves that the human condition, from a legal standpoint, was far more complicated than that. To be blunt, a majority of human beings in Newark during colonial and up to early Republican times were not “free” at all, at least not in the modern sense of the term.

When I ask my wonderful, curious students how they define the concept of “personal freedom,” their responses are almost always similar. Earlier this year, one student defined it as “the right to go where I want to go, make money, and be who I want to be with.” Another student, I feel, hit the concept more directly on the head when she said it meant “people don’t have the right to get into your personal space and grab or hit you whenever they want to.”  Either way, I agree with both definitions. And there were a lot of people in Newark the early 1800’s that wanted to be free, no doubt. We know this for a fact because pursuers of all types not only chased those they claimed to own or control, they took out ads to ask for help. Both the hunters and hunted are found in the advertisement sections of local papers.

Though America had recently fought and won a war for independence against Britain, the local social order had changed little. History tells us that there were several categories of people who were not “free” in any sense of the word during this period, both in Newark and the nation at large. They were: black slaves, indentured servants, married women, anyone under 21 and those who could not afford to pay their debts. All were present in Newark, and (combined) made up the majority of the people living in not only the city but the state as a whole. None of these people had the right to vote, to travel freely or to earn their own money. Free, adult white males were the minority. They could usually vote (if they owned enough property), but Newark was no democracy.

Black slaves were present in the city and state in the early 1800’s, and in large numbers. New Jersey was a northern state, but its complicated and gradual emancipation laws kept slavery alive right up to and including the Civil War years. Under the Constitution’s Fugitive Slave Clause, slaves who fled their masters for any location in the U.S. would always be slaves from a legal standpoint. And so would their children – even if they were born in so-called “freedom”.

White masters would chase their runaways to the ends of the Earth, and they would put up big money to bring them in. In one 1802 ad appearing in Newark’s so-called Centinel of Freedom, Matthias Denman offered a $20 reward for a runaway. The slave, named Frank, was described in typical bigoted manner as “a short chunky fellow, full faced, big mouth, thick lips, and a flat nose pocked-marked.” Denman went on to say that anyone capturing and imprisoning Frank would not only receive a reward but also any additional money for “reasonable charges.”

That same year the pages of the Newark Centinel told of the efforts some black slaves undertook to keep their families united against a society that was bent on their degradation. In one extensive ad, master Nathaniel Seabury tells of a 25 year old runaway named Bill. The description reveals the brutality of the bondage of the times, as the ad states that Bill had “a large scar on the calf of his leg, occasioned by a cut with a scythe.” For those who don’t know, a scythe is a machete like tool, frequently used by masters and overseers to inflict large gashings on the flesh of uncooperative or resistant laborers. Bill, the ad continued, fled with a woman named Hannah, “who he calls his wife.” Generously, the master offered $20 reward for both, but $10 if only one can be brought in.

Black slavery was not the only form of involuntary servitude in the early 1800’s. There was a form of white slavery too, though it was limited by legal contract, called “Indentured Servitude,” or “Bonded Apprenticeship.”

This strange kind of servitude was for a limited time only (5-7 years), though from an early-American standpoint, it might as well have been for an eternity. Basically there were two ways a white person could become an indentured servant. The most common method was to have a master pay for one’s transatlantic voyage from England or Ireland. In return, the servant pledged to work, wage-free, for a master. Poor parents (or orphanages) could also “sell” their children into this bonded state. But there were stipulations. The master was traditionally and legally required to teach the servant a skill, and provide room and board for him. Indentured servants were not considered property, and they couldn’t be killed or maimed. During the contracted period the servant was “bonded,” in that, he or she could not just get up and leave or find other compensated work. At the end of the duration, the servant became free and equal to his or her master, and was generally given some tools, money, property and an all-important letter of reference.

Both then and now, a five to seven year contract was dangerously long for a young person. This was a time in history when many people died in their 20’s and 30’s. Equally important was that this was an age where a free man would earn high wages for his physical labor, as well as purchase cheap land west of the Delaware River. The temptation to flee was a powerful one, and flee they did.

Masters tried to fight back, again by taking out ads offering rewards for “absconding apprentices” and also warning potential employers that paying these escapees for work was illegal. One master named Jacob Davey offered Newark residents a $10 reward for the return of one Thomas McKenzie. The servant was “bound to learn the Blacksmith’s trade,” and had gone off with permission to visit his parents in New York. But since then had vanished. Davey was particularly worried that the boy was interested in long-distance travel. Knowing Newark was an East Coast port, the master warned that the boy might be interested in boarding an outgoing ship. Smart kid.

We know that debtors fled too. Today, if you don’t pay your bills, you get sued and a bad credit report. In the Newark of 1800, you went to jail, or fled (usually west). The Newark Centinel was filled with ads of “Creditors’ Meetings” where the assets of “absconded” debtors would be divided up in an orderly fashion. It would only be later in the century that the state constitution would ban imprisonment for debt.

And finally, let us not forget the wives. My students are always surprised when I explain to them that when a woman married in the early 1800’s, she became “civically dead.” All of her property, child custodial rights and her very name became that of her husband’s. This very legal practice, called “coverture,” was the norm. Today we see its symbolic legacy continued in the traditions of married women adopting their husband's last names, daughters being “given” away by fathers in wedding ceremonies, etc. But in 1800’s, there were real legal implications for leaving your husband in Newark, New Jersey.

In 1797 we see one furious husband placing an ad in the Centinel. John Liddell tells Newark readers that his wife Sarah had “absconded from my bed and board,” and “in other respects behaved in an unbecoming manner.” Liddell doesn’t so much want her back, as he wants to completely impoverish her. “Therefore, I forbid all persons from trusting her on my account, as I am determined not to pay any debts of her contracting after this date.” In an age when personal reputation commanded one’s level of financial credit, this ad was the equivalent of a financial death warrant.

Newark’s history is America’s history, and when it concerned the never-ending struggle between the controlled and their controllers, this statement could not be truer. One of the most interesting aspects of the American epic is that the concept of “personal freedom” evolved from a limited notion in the years immediately after independence to one of near adult (legal) equality today. But I try to tell my students that this process did not happen automatically. To gain freedom, people – especially in the Newark of the 1800’s - had to run for it, defend it, protect it. 

Witherspoon: A Name Etched in Marble, Yes, But He Had Heart Too

The Princeton area, and the grounds of the University in particular, are filled with regal

monuments. At the end of Nassau Street stands a triumphal assemblage of them to George Washington, marking his 1777 victory nearby. All around Nassau Hall, the University’s ivy-covered heart and historic epicenter we see tigers preserved in bronze, zealously guarding the ancient structure and institution.

Over the years, one monument in particular has always caught my eye. It looks ancient, but it’s not; it was installed in 2001. Located adjacent to the medieval-looking fortress that is Pyne Hall stands the majestic and completely appropriate bronze statue to the Rev. John Witherspoon, Princeton’s Revolutionary President, Educator and signer of the Declaration of Independence.

The value of such monuments is debatable, because while they certainly try to project an enduring, even ageless image of a person, in doing so they frequently deprive such subjects of their humanity. Sometimes this isn’t important, as in the case of the State of Liberty, but other times, it needs to be noted. In the case of the Witherspoon Monument, I’m bringing it up because if you accept the man asthat statue, you’ll never see the man that was. You’ll never understand the wonderful, warm, thoughtful leader he was,especially for his time (he died in 1794). He’s worth writing about because his contributions to the nation in general, and the Princeton area in particular, are interesting and worth recounting.

Witherspoon was not a military leader; he led no great armies to fierce victories. He never ruled any nations or established any banks. He never amassed a titanic fortune. He was an educator, a reverend and an observant writer and human being. It was Witherspoon who introduced the concepts of civil liberty and the thoughts of John Locke to students like James Madison, whowould, in fact, go on to lead the nation in war and peace.

As a scholar and educator, Witherspoon wrote for most of his adult life. The subjects of his writings vary dramatically, from the concept of liberty in the Magna Carta to theories of education to my favorite missive, Letters on Marriage. Written and published towards the end of his life, his three letters on this vital institution are filled with wit, wisdom, warmth and a progressiveness that was far ahead of his time.

Divided into three parts, it’s the first that has always impressed and moved me the most. There, out of the darkness of the late 18th century, in a time of absolute kings, hideous slavery and medical treatment that could only be described as barbaric, Witherspoon took the time to recognize the important elements that make wedlock work. And he didn’t write about it from the point of view of a man on a pedestal; rather, he wrote it as simple, straightforward advice. Why should marriage be honored? How do we set ourselves up, as single people, for disaster in marriage due to our silly preconceived notions? How does marriage change people? And why is a practical equality between the sexes so important – even central - in making this lifelong relationship work – and last?

How many articles and books, in this modern age, deal with these important questions? Interestingly enough, he begins his letter with this very thought in mind. What he has to offer, he tells readers, is the product of “real observation and personal reflection.” The words that follow are not, interestingly enough, filled with Biblical Quotes or Puritanical warnings of hellfire and Divine Fury. They’re just the advice of someone who has, to paraphrase his own words, been around the block a few times. Witherspoon had some mileage on him and his tire treads were wearing, so it was time to reflect, and reflect he did. 

The quality of the advice is impressive and thoughtful, and begins with a thorough denunciation of, dare I say, romance and beauty.

The great Princeton President, the educator of Founding Fathers and a man who put his life on the line by affixing his name to the Declaration of Independence warns us to stop putting so much value on good looks. In fact, he stipulates, from the point of view of a husband or wife, good looks constitute more or less of a misleading, bait-and-switch trap. In his experience, “fairness” in looks rarely if ever translated into any part of the essential skillset essential for people to get along. Literature and media, both then and now, are filled with beautiful faces frequently cast as heroes and objects to be desired. But aside from perhaps the Honeymoon night (yes, he wrote this), real strength and character is reflected in a person’s beliefs, practices and values. Want to know what qualities keep a marriage together? Not a pretty face…try industriousness, patience and a will to act…. the will to work.

Witherspoon also warns potential spouses of thinking that any marriage will amount to some sort of lifelong dream or ecstatic song. Rather, from a realistic point of view, it is a team effort, a united front in a world of challenges. Married people will have to be reasonable with each other, and deal with each other as equals. In short, marriage not a fantasy, it’s a real world partnership.  

This is where he gets really interesting. Witherspoon attacks the idea that a man who listens to his wife, who routinely turns to her for advice and comfort, is somehow “henpecked” (again, hiswords, not mine). In his experience, time and again he’s witnessed wives providing capable, calming advice – evenleadership - to nervous or uninformed husbands.

Overall, Witherspoon claims that marriage is good for the human condition. By forcing people to compromise and care for others, it compels them to moderate the most extreme attributes of their personalities. Marriage obliges humans to exercise that most “Christian” of principles: sharing. Yes, he concedes, marriage and childmaking begin with desire and lust, but the ultimate qualities of love, cooperation and sharing are what make the institution ultimately work, succeed and benefit for all involved.

Several centuries separate us from Witherspoon, but I’ve rarely gotten better advice from anyone on marriage or relationships, living or dead. I always keep this in mind when I look at that statue outside of Pyne Hall. It may accurately reflect his presence in history, but it’s his words that reflect his heart.