07/11/2026
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Eli Whitney, Slavery

477 Words: Unintended Consequences

AMERICA 250

My series on the highlights and lowlights of American history, marking this nation’s 250th birthday. The whole idea being we, as a nation, have done great things and we’ve done rotten things. And sometimes the things we’ve done have been both great and rotten. We are, to be sure, all too human.

Eli Whitney’s cotton gin was viewed by a lot of abolitionists as a godsend that would swiftly make slavery disappear.

After all, most Southern slaves worked at picking the seeds out of cotton bolls with their fingers, endless, tedious labor in the hot sun. Whitney’s device, patented in 1794, did that task mechanically. Huzzah! No more slaves!

It took human beings a long time to get every stinking seed out of the mass of cotton fiber in each boll. The cotton gin, relatively, did it in the snap of a finger.

Perhaps the new United States could rid itself of its Original Sin — America hadn’t yet fully embarked on its genocide of Indigenous Peoples here, so slavery will suffice as the forbidden fruit in our nascent Garden of Eden — or so went the most pollyannish thinking of the time. Things didn’t quite work out that way.

The Cotton Gin.

What actually happened was Whitney’s gadget turned the South into a humming economic powerhouse. His invention enabled cotton plantations to produce huge amounts of the fiber, quickly and cheaply. Growers immediately expanded their acreage and began supplying the world with the comfortable, breathable, washable fabric. The South went from a sleepy region of slow-moving drawlers into one of the centers of the nascent Industrial Revolution.

So much cotton was planted and grown that more slaves than ever before were needed! Hordes of slaves were imported to trudge through the fields, picking cotton. The cotton gin worked so well it made a certain strain of the plant, short-staple cotton, economically viable. This type of plant grew faster and more abundantly than long-fiber cotton but had been far more difficult to de-seed. Whitney’s gin made it a profitable strain. Short-staple cotton, too, could be grown in areas previously inhospitable to the crop, greatly expanding the range of plantations — and slavery.

Seemingly before anybody knew what was happening, the South had become the new nation’s money tree.

In terms of making the United States a world economic power, the cotton gin was a fabulous highlight. In terms of its effect on human physical and emotional suffering, it was a horrendous lowlight. As such, it might be the most American invention ever.

●

The arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice. — Theodore Parker.

Power concedes nothing without a demand. It never did and it never will. — Frederick Douglass.

It is possible to read the history of this country as one long struggle to extend the liberties established in our Constitution to everyone in America. — Molly Ivins.

07/10/2026
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Bill of Rights, Fugitive Slave Act

686 Words: Freedom & Slavery

AMERICA 250

My series on the highlights and lowlights of American history, marking this nation’s 250th birthday. The whole idea being we, as a nation, have done great things and we’ve done rotten things. And sometimes the things we’ve done have been both great and rotten. We are, to be sure, all too human.

Contradictions.

The history of the United States of America is chock full of them. Let’s look at two dates. The first is December 15, 1791.

That was the date the Virginia legislature ratified the Bill of Rights. That made the Commonwealth the eleventh state to okay that first package of Amendments to the US Constitution. It takes three fourths of the states to ratify an Amendment before it becomes part of the Constitution. As far as I can recall from my elementary school arithmetic lessons, Virginia’s eleventh vote put the Bill over the top in the then-13 state union. And, BTW, that little bit of figuring foreshadows a future lowlight, in 1982.

We like to believe that we’re the world’s beacon of freedom. The Bill of Rights is the reason why. Those first ten Amendments to the US Constitution, guarantee and/or codify, mainly, the following:

  • Freedom of speech
  • Freedom of the press
  • Freedom of religion
  • Freedom of assembly
  • The right to possess firearms
  • Protections againts unreasonable serach, arrest, and seizure
  • The establishment of the Grand Jury system
  • Protections against double jeopardy
  • Due process
  • Fair compensation for Eminent Domain seizure
  • No self-incrimination
  • The right to a speedy, public trial by an impartial jury
  • The right to confront witnesses
  • The right to legal counsel
  • Explicit distinctions between the roles of judge and jury
  • No excessive bail or fines
  • No cruel and unusual punishment
  • One person’s rights do not trump another person’s
  • and finally, the tasks and duties of the Congress include declaring war, collecting federal taxes, regulating interstate commerce, and other such stuff.

That, Pencillistas, is a highlight. Remember, though, that the Founders were really good at making promises; they and too many of their successors were not so hot at keeping them.

Still, the Bill of Rights is something to brag about.

Not so, the legislation passed on the second date, February 12, 1793. Considering the fact that news traveled slowly in the waning years of the 18th century, there may well have been scads of Americans who hadn’t even heard about the Bill of Rights ratification by then. On a date that, ironically, would eventually be proclaimed a national holiday, President George Washington signed into law the Fugitive Slave Act of 1793.

For all our efforts to relegate responsibility for slavery solely to those misguided, erring souls of the South, the federal government and way, way, way too many people of the North really were complicit in that crime against humanity. The first Fugitive Slave Act (another would be enacted in 1850) meant the entire new nation was guilty for it.

A little background: A couple of years earlier, a Black man named John Davis, who’d been held as a slave in Virginia, had escaped to Pennsylvania. Soon three men from Virginia tracked him down and forced him back into servitude. The Pennsylvania governor hollered that the three Virginia men were criminals — kidnappers, really — and demanded their extradition. The governor of Virginia told him, in so many words, to go to hell. Their conflict eventually reached the halls of Congress and the president’s desk.

More irony. The Pennsylvania governor, Thomas Mifflin, had turned to the feds in hopes his argument would spur legislation to protect the residents of his state, even if they were escaped slaves, from kidnapping by out-of-state miscreants. Instead, Congress passed and Washington signed a new federal law allowing “fugitive” trackers to cross state lines and chase down escaped slaves.

The “property” rights of slaveholders, America now held, trumped the human rights of John Davis and any other slave who might dare flee to the North to escape bondage.

The slave state/free state argument would takes countless twists and turns over the next nearly 70 years, culminating in the Civil War.

Which, as Heather Cox Richardson has written, the South eventually won.

●

The arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice. — Theodore Parker.

Power concedes nothing without a demand. It never did and it never will. — Frederick Douglass.

It is possible to read the history of this country as one long struggle to extend the liberties established in our Constitution to everyone in America. — Molly Ivins.

 

07/08/2026
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Abigail Adams

335 Words: Remember the Ladies

AMERICA 250

My series on the highlights and lowlights of American history, marking this nation’s 250th birthday. The whole idea being we, as a nation, have done great things and we’ve done rotten things. And sometimes the things we’ve done have been both great and rotten. We are, to be sure, all too human.

America’s first feminist was Abigail Adams.

Oh, this is a highlight!

She was the wife of John Adams, the first Vice-President of the United States and the second President of the United States. Just seven years after the Colonies adopted Britain’s “coverture laws,” relegating women to the status of possessions of their husbands, like their hats and their goats, Abigail Adams in March 1776 wrote a monumental letter to her husband. At the time, he was serving on the Revolutionary committee that would edit Thomas Jefferson’s Declaration of Independence.

Abigail’s letter to her husband arrived just four months before the 13 Colonies announced to the world they were now a new nation. In her letter, she conveyed to him a sentiment  that might have sounded up to date in 1970, say, or even 2026, as long as you ignore her era’s flowery language, that is.

““Remember,” she wrote (all sic), “all Men would be tyrants if they could. If perticuliar care and attention is not paid to the Laidies we are determined to foment a Rebelion, and will not hold ourselves bound by any Laws in which we have no voice, or Representation.”

Holy shit!

You want a Revolution? she’s saying. We women’ll show you a revolution if you guys continue to ignore us.

Wow!

Abigail Adams

I imagine John Adams would have acceded to his wife’s wishes but there were far too many hard headed old mules who’d stick their fingers into both the Declaration and the US Constitution (1789) and so Abigail Adams’ plea (or demand) went unfulfilled.

For my money, Abigail Adams ought to be venerated as much as any of the stubborn men whom we call the Founding Fathers.

●

The arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice. — Theodore Parker.

Power concedes nothing without a demand. It never did and it never will. — Frederick Douglass.

It is possible to read the history of this country as one long struggle to extend the liberties established in our Constitution to everyone in America. — Molly Ivins.

07/07/2026
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Amy Krouse Rosenthal

945 Words: Funny Girl

This’ll be a one-day break from my ongoing series on the highs and lows of American history.

The memory of this person popped into my head overnight and I have to write about her today. An old friend. Amy Krouse Rosenthal. The writer, the children’s book author, the memoirist, the prankster, the wife and mother.

Amy Krouse Rosenthal. Image: Brooke Hummer Photography.

She may have been the most imaginative person I’ve ever met. At least she’s in the top three and, to tell the truth, I can’t think of who the other two might be. Maybe Tristra Newyear would be one of them.

You want a shining example of Amy’s imagination? Sure. Ten days before she died of ovarian cancer in March of 2017, she penned a lengthy article that ran in the New York Times titled, “You May Want to Marry My Husband.” In it, she listed, chapter and verse, the qualities of her husband, Jason Rosenthal. She knew she was on the way out and she wanted to do all she could to ensure he’d eventually get on with his life. “He is an easy man to fall in love with,” she wrote. “I did it in one day.”

Amy, seemingly every day, came up with a new idea for a project, an antic, a piece of performance art that never failed to elicit a titter or a guffaw. For instance, in the late 1990s signs reading, “Employees Must Hold Hands before Returning to Work” began to appear above sinks in all the hippest watering holes in Chicago, as well as two-thirds of all the dive bars therein. Sometimes, the signs’d be pasted over the obligatory “Employees Must Wash Hands….” placards. The signs were well-designed and professionally produced. They were Amy’s work. She went around affixing the signs to barroom bathroom walls over a period of many months.

That’s the kind of thing she did. Once, she staged an event on Chicago’s lakefront, in Millennium Park, calling it “17 Things I Made.” Among the things she’d made were several of her books, her kids, her wedding vow, a song, and a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Hundreds showed up to help her make an 18th thing.

I was sitting with her in Katerina’s coffeehouse on Irving Park Road one summer afternoon. I told her I’d just read that the noted existentialist philosopher, feminist, and author of The Second Sex, Simone de Beauvoir, had spent a lot of time in Chicago in the 1940s  and ’50s while she carried on a torrid affair will the author Nelson Algren. de Beauvoir, I told her, wrote that she’d had her first orgasm in Algren’s Wicker Park apartment. Well…, here, let me quote from a Chicago Reader story I wrote about Amy in December 2000:

“They should have a bronze sign there!” Rosenthal nearly hollered. “That would be awesome. That would be the most brilliant example of insight and creativity, and they could have one of those brown highway directional signs like they have for the Children’s Museum or Navy Pier.”

I wouldn’t have been a bit surprised if one day I’d see an historical marker, proclaiming the location of Simone de Beauvoir’s first sexual climax, posted outside Algren’s Evergreen Street home. Amy Krouse Rosenthal was perfectly capable of pulling that off.

She authored 30 children’s books, including the beloved, Duck! Rabbit! She wrote several memoirs, riffing on motherhood and family life, including, The Mother’s Guide to the Meaning of Life: What I’ve Learned on My Never-ending Quest to Become a Dalai Mama. She was a TED speaker and an NPR commentator. She contributed to Oprah Winfrey’s magazine and Amy Poehler’s Smart Girls. She frequently appeared in the New York Times — in fact, her first essay for that august rag, on “busy-ness,” ran side by side with a Salman Rushdie op/ed on the chances India and Pakistan might launch nuclear missiles at each other. Heady company, indeed.

That piece she wrote for the New York Times, her valedictory extolling the virtues of her husband? It drew better than 4.5 million online hits, so claimed the paper’s obit on her.

I met Amy when we both hung out and wrote at that storied center of the coffeehouse universe, Urbus Orbis, in the early 1990s. Invariably, she’d have kicked her shoes off and had tucked her legs under her as if she were in her own living room. She lived on her laptop as did I (and I still do to this day.) She laughed easily and often, her face crinkling as though she were on the verge of tears. Tears of glee.

She was a tiny thing, even though she acknowledged that as a little girl she was “chubby.” I have a photo of her in a box somewhere wearing my motorcycle helmet, taken in 1999 at her insistence. The helmet fit her the way the oversized carapace fit over Dave Thomas Dartn Vader takeoff character in Spaceballs.She grew up in the tony North shore suburb of Lake Forest, next door, in fact, to the renowned artists and writers residence Ragdale House, its alumni including Lynda Barry, Stanley Crouch, Alex Kotlowitz, Dennis Lehane, Rebecca Makkai, Sara Paretsky, Katha Pollitt, Alice Sebold, Ravi Shankar, and…, um, me. Amy cut her teeth as an advertising copywriter in Chicago and San Francisco, that is, until she realized that the ad world was way too cut-throat and pressure packed for her.

Amy turned to writing what she called “Brain Lint” gags and aphorisms and then expanded her range in every direction imaginable.

There’s no particular reason why I should be engaging in this eulogy other than Amy Krouse Rosenthal was one of the people I’ve known who shouldn’t be forgotten.

07/06/2026
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Declaration of Independence, US Constitution

804 Words: New & Improved

AMERICA 250

My series on the highlights and lowlights of American history, marking this nation’s 250th birthday. The whole idea being we, as a nation, have done great things and we’ve done rotten things. And sometimes the things we’ve done have been both great and rotten. We are, to be sure, all too human.

So desperate were the Colonies to break away from the English crown that the northern contingent pinched its collective nose and went to bed with the slave-holding Southern bunch. Each half figured the Revolution would be a bomb if the other wasn’t spooning with it at night.

How does that sound?

It’s the best possible spin I can think of to put on the contradiction that was the creation of the United States of America, a brand new nation in 1776 that bragged “All Men Are Created Equal” while initiating a mass assassination of Indigenous Peoples and counting Black slaves as less than human. And, you know, it wasn’t the last time this holy land embraced a savage, sadistic bedmate. Consider our World War II allies, the Soviets. Old Joe Stalin had just finished whacking some 7-10 million of his fellow countrymen in order to further his program of collectivization and remind the remainder of Russian et al citizenry that he could very well slit their throats too if they weren’t careful.

We’ll get to FDR’s decision to throw in our lot with the Soviets in 1942 later in this series on the highlights and lowlights of our nation’s history.

For now, let’s look at both the Declaration of Independence and the United States Constitution.

To iterate what I wrote last week about our land’s two founding documents:

Those White, erstwhile Brits decided to form their own country, issuing a Declaration of Independence, and then writing themselves a Constitution. They preached, “All men are created equal.” Beautiful words. Gorgeous words. No society had ever before advanced the notion that people could govern themselves, without relying on a god-given noble class, without submitting to a powerful priesthood, without acknowledging that one group of people were superior to another. Except, women weren’t included under the rubric “people.” Nor were non-landowners. Black’s were fractions of people, 3/5 to be precise. It took fully 188 years before the United States got around to ensuring that every human being, no matter their sex, gender, skin color, wealth or lack thereof, was equal under the law. And to this day, forces within this nation continue to chafe against those guarantees.

I’ll say it again — as an aspiration, the Declaration was beautiful. As a national charter, the Constitution was spectacularly good, except it carried within itself small (and large) print that said, “Yeah, but….”

Counting slaves as 3/5 human, considering women as 0/5 human, and viewing Natives as pests to be pushed westward or exterminated all were written, either explicitly or by legal wink into the Constitution. In that sense, we were no better than the Nazis, whom we justifiably continue to vilify to this day (well, most of us do; some Americans, apparently, are more “tolerant” of White male supremacy.

A Patriot Front Member.

America felt the Nazis were such an awful gang that we had to link arms with a putatively less awful nation in order to defeat them. Pragmatism, I guess. The same rationale, I suppose, that drove northern abolitionists to ally with southern slave-holders.

Anyway, the Constitution is filled with admirable Articles and clauses, The ability the change it, leading to the Bill of Rights that includes freedoms of speech and assembly, calls for redress and remedies for government wrongs, and later Amendments calling for due process and equal protection under the law and women’s suffrage show the 1787 document to be one of humanity’s greatest achievements.

“We the people” is the Constitution’s momentous opening line. It may be the most important thesis in all of human history. And, as Molly Ivins has pointed out, we’ve spent all the succeeding years of our history trying to include everybody in that club.

It’s the ifs, ands, and buts of the Constitution that rob the original draft of its sheen. I’ll put another spin on things — no document, philosophy, charter, hypothesis, or machine is ever fully realized (or perfect, in the word’s strict definition) right off the bat. Each must be kneaded, massaged, oiled, salted, tweaked, and/or pummeled into a better form. It would be of little solace to a Black woman living in South Carolina in 1830 to be told that the Constitution of 2026 would give her progeny a fair shake, but it’s true.

Lyndon Johnson Signs the Civil Rights Act of 1964.

The US Constitution, it’s 27 Amendments inclusive, is a vastly greater legal guarantee than James Madison et al‘s first stab at it. It’s a living thing. As such, it also can be maimed or even killed.

●

The arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice. — Theodore Parker.

Power concedes nothing without a demand. It never did and it never will. — Frederick Douglass.

It is possible to read the history of this country as one long struggle to extend the liberties established in our Constitution to everyone in America. — Molly Ivins.

07/05/2026
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Common Sense, Thomas Paine

696 Words: Common Sense & Our Cardinal Sins

AMERICA 250

My series on the highlights and lowlights of American history, marking this nation’s 250th birthday. The whole idea being we, as a nation, have done great things and we’ve done rotten things. And sometimes the things we’ve done have been both great and rotten. We are, to be sure, all too human.

Now here’s a highlight. A real one. A butt-kicking, nearly earth-shattering highlight in this, my cherry-picked listage (a word I just made up * ) of the highs and lows of American history.

( * Upon further snoopage 1, I find listage already has been coined. It’s French and it means precisely what I want it to mean and it’s occasionally allowed in English usage. By golly, I’m a polyglot!)
( 1 Dang. Snoopage exists as a word already, too, but it doesn’t mean what I want it to. So much for my coinage career. It actually connotes a sneaky, underhanded prying into someone’s personal affairs, papers, or other such stuff. Sounds like fun but it doesn’t work in this context.)

Anyway, today’s highlight is Thomas Paine’s Common Sense. Google it and you might find, as I did, plenty of people saying it remains the best-selling publication in the history of the United States. I don’t want to be cynical but, for pity’s sake, that doesn’t sound quite right. What about The Bible? What about Valley of the Dolls? What about any of the two dozen books Stephen King writes in a year?

For that matter, what about JK Rowling and that Harry Potter series of hers?

The Los Angeles Times, perhaps, sets things straight. “Common Sense,” according to an article written by AT Williams in the January 20, 2025 edition, “remains one of the best-selling works of all time relative to the U.S. population (2.5 million in 1776, not counting slaves and Native Americans).”

I buy that much more readily than I buy that Paine’s pamphlet remains the top-selling book/tract/thingy of all time in America.

The Original Common Sense Was 47 Pages, Stitched Together, No Cover.

William’s caveat, in fact, inadvertently brings up a lowlight that existed even as the Founders were printing the words “All men are created equal” on their parchment or Paul Revere iPads or whatever they were writing on.

A lowlight? Call it the lowlight. It is America’s mortal sin. Our own pair of proto-holocausts — our  genocide of the Indigenous Peoples who lived here and slavery.

“Not counting slaves and Native Americans,” indeed. Nothing defines us any better than that brobdingnagian contradiction. It proves my basic point: because we’re such a vast melange of humanity, the most diverse on the planet, we also represent the best and worst of human behavior.

We’ll look into our worst behaviors as this series goes on. Today, though, just to be celebratory, let’s stay positive and take a look at the most famous piece of writing by inventor, philosopher, statesman, British immigrant, hellraiser, American expat, deist, and drunkard, Thomas Paine.

Common Sense, a 47-page pamphlet, was America’s first bestseller. It was written in clear, concise language (shockingly, for its time) that laid out arguments for the establishment of a new nation, a principled, moral, progressive, egalitarian, almost utopian nation, one that hadn’t been seen in world in all of human history.

Paine lambasted monarchy and its hereditary lineage. Individual rulers, he wrote, led inevitably to corruption and tyranny. He argued that an independent United States would be the ideal for all the Earth’s peoples. He called for representative republican government. “The law,” he wrote, “is King.”

Government, Paine continued, was “a necessary evil” whose purpose was to curb the worst instincts in humans.

Grab your muskets, he advised, and let’s kick the hell out of the British. More than half a million copies of his pamphlet were printed and sold as the Colonies plunged headlong toward revolution.

In fact, the very notions Paine elucidated in Common Sense were revolutions in and of themselves. The pamphlet, you can say, kicked the common man — the common white man; remember the other kinds weren’t counted — into action. Common Sense, perhaps more than any other single thing, made the America Revolution go.

Here’s it is, in its entirety, online.

Thomas Paine’s Death Mask.

●

The arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice. — Theodore Parker

Power concedes nothing without a demand. It never did and it never will. — Frederick Douglass

It is possible to read the history of this country as one long struggle to extend the liberties established in our Constitution to everyone in America. — Molly Ivins

 

07/04/2026
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Abolition

555 Words: Unlawfully Held

AMERICA 250

My series on the highlights and lowlights of American history, marking this nation’s 250th birthday. The whole idea being we, as a nation, have done great things and we’ve done rotten things. And sometimes the things we’ve done have been both great and rotten. We are, to be sure, all too human.

Let’s call this the first highlight in this, my mini, cherry-picked history of the United States as we celebrate America 250. Remember, I’m searching for both highlights and lowlights, inasmuch as I’m neither a fetishistic basher of this country, nor am I a starry-eyed cheerleader for it.

As I’ve written previously, since this place is the most diverse country in the world, a destination for millions of people wishing to settle down here, it fully represents both the best and worst of humanity. That’s the overall message I wish to convey.

I wouldn’t necessarily characterize the Revolution as a highlight, considering the fact that countless nations have arisen via that route since humans began to gather under flags. And, for the most part, revolutions replace old bastards with new ones. Nor do I consider either of the Declaration of Independence or the US Constitution highlights, simply because the lofty sentiments contained therein — liberty, equality, freedoms of speech and assembly, due process, etc. — were largely aspirational. But, okay, let’s give credit where it’s due: both documents made promises that few, if any, other national founders had ever made before.

Trying to compel the powers that run/own the United States of America to make good on the Founders’ promises has been an ordeal, a too often bloody one, throughout our history. But, okay, at least we have those promises. That’s more that 99.9 percent of the nations of the world have ever offered to their people.

Now then:

Highlight No. 1: The Society for the Relief of Free Negroes Unlawfully Held in Bondage is founded on April 14, 1775, in Philadelphia. It’s the first anti-slavery organization in the Colonies. In 1784, it was renamed the Pennsylvania Society for Promoting the Abolition of Slavery and the Relief of Free Negroes Unlawfully Held in Bondage.

Sheesh! That gang sure as hell had no idea how to cook up a short, punchy name, no? They could have called their new group the Anti-Slavery Society, only its acronym would have been ASS, so, uh-uh.

The Society was started by a Quaker named Anthony Benezet, who also had founded the first public school in the Colonies to admit girls (1755) and the first Negro School (1773). Benezet was born Antoine Bénézet in France in 1713. His family moved to the Pennsylvania Colony in 1731. Now styling his name to reflect his more Anglo digs, Anthony, 18 years old at the time, joined the Quaker abolitionist movement. Slavery, he held, was a direct violation of his faith.

As far as I can tell, few images of Benezet exist, so use your imagination. He was white, Gallic, and probably stunk like a goat considering the colonists lacked water heaters, shower wands, and Tom’s of Maine deodorants.

BTW, before the Bénézets left France, Antoine’s daddy-o  served as Voltaire‘s business manager. That Bénézet clan sure had some good, progressive chops, didn’t they?

Pennsylvania in 1780 began the gradual process of outlawing slavery within the state’s borders, largely thanks to the presence of the sizable Quaker abolitionist community there.

●

The arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice. — Theodore Parker

Power concedes nothing without a demand. It never did and it never will. — Frederick Douglass

It is possible to read the history of this country as one long struggle to extend the liberties established in our Constitution to everyone in America. — Molly Ivins

07/03/2026
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Boston Tea Party, False Flag

541 Words: The First False Flag

America 250

My series on the highlights and lowlights of American history, marking this nation’s 250th birthday. The whole idea being we, as a nation, have done great things and we’ve done rotten things. And sometimes the things we’ve done have been both great and rotten. We are, to be sure, all too human.

From Merriam-Webster, online.

Today’s entry in my series on this country’s highlights and lowlights as we approach its 250th b-day, isn’t necessarily a contradiction, as have been my previous entries herein. It’s pretty straightforward but, just to keep things tidy, let’s label it as such.

Contradiction No. 6: The Boston Tea Party

Today’s CIA agents as well as spies and spooks from every undercover outfit around the world are heirs to the grandpappies of the craft, the Sons of Liberty. The loose, secretive Boston cabal had been active since Britain enacted the Stamp Act of 1765, imposing crushing taxes on the Colonies in the New World. Colonial printers could only use paper manufactured in Britain (and stamped to verify its origin) to produce legal documents, magazines, newspapers, and other printed material (like playing cards, believe it or not). It was far more expensive than paper the New World printers could obtain domestically. Britain used the paper’s tax revenue to pay for stationing its soldiers in the Colonies.

The imposition of the Stamp Act enraged residents of the 13 Colonies. They considered it an extreme form of taxation (higher prices, naturally, had been passed along to consumers) and argued that they shouldn’t be taxed because they had no representation in the British Parliament. Britain retorted by saying only landowners on the British Isles could serve in Parliament so the colonists were SOL. Out of this contretemps emerged the rallying cry, No Taxation Without Representation.

In 1773, Parliament passed the Tea Act, allowing the British East India Company to sell tea in the Colonies (tea being as indispensable to them as bottled water is to us) without being taxed. Well, the colonists huffed, that’s not fair! Why do they get off not paying taxes while we’re burdened by the Stamp Act?

The Sons of Liberty were driven to do something more than huff. In the middle of the night on December 16, 1773, a number of Sons dressed up as Native Americans, stole aboard the merchant ship Dartmouth docked in Boston Harbor, and procedure to toss overboard some 340 chests of East India Company tea.

Sons of Liberty in disguise.

Well, the British threw a fit. They imposed the Intolerable Acts in retribution, closing the Port of Boston and suspending the Massachusetts Bay Colony charter, eliminating any form of self-government there.

That was pretty much the last straw for the colonists. Within two-plus years the Declaration of Independence had been issued and the Revolutionary War was on.

As I’ve indicated before in these precincts, taxes were the drivers behind the American Revolution, not any high-minded ideals like liberty and other such stuff. Although, to be fair, the authors of both the Declaration of Independence and the US Constitution were Enlightenment deists who plugged in all those noble notions like freedom and equality, values so slippery that we continue to try (and too often fail) to lock them down to this day.

●

The arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice. — Theodore Parker

Power concedes nothing without a demand. It never did and it never will. — Frederick Douglass

It is possible to read the history of this country as one long struggle to extend the liberties established in our Constitution to everyone in America. — Molly Ivins

07/02/2026
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Boston Massacre, Paul Revere

595 Words: Monetizing the Revolution

America 250

My series on the highlights and lowlights of American history, marking this nation’s 250th birthday. The whole idea being we, as a nation, have done great things and we’ve done rotten things. And sometimes the things we’ve done have been both great and rotten. We are, to be sure, all too human.

My theme running through this series on the highlights and lowlights of American history as we approach this land’s 250th birthday has been contradictions. This country was, is, and always will be a stewpot of contradictions.

The box score thus far:

  • Contradiction No. 1 — Fleeing from, and then embracing, religious intolerance
  • Contradiction No. 2 — All Men Are Created Equal
  • Contradiction No. 3 — New World women
  • Contradiction No. 4 — “We the People” really means just a few of us

Now then,  let’s explore today’s contradiction.

Contradiction No. 5: The Boston Massacre, a memorabilia bonanza

On March 5, 1770, an incident occurred on a Boston street presaging an eerily similar event that took place about 120 years later in Chicago, the Haymarket Riot. The events were alike in many ways except for the spin put on each by elementary school history teachers and politicians running for office by wrapping themselves in the flag. (Or humping the flag as You-Know-Who has done.) The Boston Massacre comes down to us as a righteous demonstration by the plucky, spirited, determined revolutionaries who’d soon announce to the world that there was a new nation, eventually to be called the United States of America. The Haymarket Riot is positioned as an anarchistic, Marxist mob of alien terrorists whose bloodthirst resulted in the deaths of policemen.

In Heat.

For the three years since the Townsend Act had been enacted and its taxes imposed, lots of city folk in the American Colonies had been expressing themselves hotly in opposition. Their rage had spread, first, throughout the northern Colonies and then even down to Virginia. The British didn’t care for those rumblings. Britain sent over a contingent of soldiers to the Colonies to remind the hotheads who was boss. In Boston, the outnumbered British soldiers routinely were harassed and sometimes assaulted by civilians.

The soldiers (really, that era’s policemen) were getting itchy. And scared.

That late Monday afternoon in 1770, a crowd of 400-500 Bostonians surrounded a squad of nine British soldiers on the ironically named King Street. They shouted at and spit on the soldiers. Then some in the crowd started throwing snowballs. Next came stones and bricks. The soldiers panicked. One of them, perhaps accidentally, fired his musket. His cohorts reacted by shooting into the crowd.

When the smoke cleared, five civilians were dead.

The Boston Massacre became the ideal rallying point around which colonial revolutionary fervor would swirl for the next few years, until 1776 when the Declaration of Independence was issued.

Now, here’s the quintessentially American aspect of the aftermath. Paul Revere was a Boston artisan working in silver and copper. His silverware and engraved plates were hot commodities around the Massachusetts Bay Colony at the time. Immediately after the Boston Massacre, he began pumping out scads of commemorative items depicting the Massacre, listing the names of the victims, and so forth. Suddenly, has silver- and coppersmithing were in demand throughout the Colonies. He became an “industrialist.”

Revere even branched out into printing. His numbered print, “The Bloody Massacre perpetrated in King Street, Boston on March 5, 1770 by a party of the 29th Regiment,” sold all over the Colonies. In fact, an original copy of it to this day can fetch upward of $200,000 at auction.

Paul Revere print.

Revolutionary swag — now that‘s American.

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The arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice. — Theodore Parker

Power concedes nothing without a demand. It never did and it never will. — Frederick Douglass

It is possible to read the history of this country as one long struggle to extend the liberties established in our Constitution to everyone in America. — Molly Ivins

07/01/2026
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Haudenosaunee Confederacy, US Constitution

543 Words: All Men?

America 250

My series on the highlights and lowlights of American history, marking this nation’s 250th birthday. The whole idea being we, as a nation, have done great things and we’ve done rotten things. And sometimes the things we’ve done have been both great and rotten. We are, to be sure, all too human.

In 1776, the rebellious colonists issued their Declaration of Independence. It was an announcement to the world that a new country had formed, along the shores, mostly, of the Atlantic Ocean on the North America continent.

It begins with the words, “We the people….” No document had ever been created like if before in the history of humanity. A casual reading of the Declaration might indicate its authors were speaking for an entire nation of just plain folks — no royalty, no nobility, everybody.

The Constitution, written eleven years later, was, in part, based on a nearly five hundred year old alliance made by indigenous nations who lived west of the Appalachian Mountains and whose lands extended out to lakes Ontario and Erie, up into what is now Michigan, and as far west as the Mississippi River. It was called the Haudenosaunee Confederacy.

Those indigenous nations, who’d been beating the hell out of each other for centuries, decided to make peace and set up a loose alliance of semi-sovereign state-like plots of land, the bunch of which would consider themselves a single entity. The quasi-states would trade with each other and protect each other when the need arose. They called their founding pact The Great Law of Peace.

Representatives of the Iroquois, Assiniboine, Crow, Pawnee, and Dakota peoples (artist’s conception).

The founding five nations, with a sixth eventually joining, became matrilineal societies, with birthrights, inheritances, and living arrangements based on mothers’ bloodlines. That’s definitely not what either Britain or the newborn independent colonies had in mind, but much of the rest of the Iroquois Confederacy’s governance principles inspired the authors of the Constitution.

Contradiction No. 4: All Men Are Created Equal. They weren’t of course, according to the new country’s charter. Women and Blacks and people who didn’t own land were intentionally excluded from the “We” mentioned in the Declaration of Independence when the Founders got around to writing the Constitution eleven years later.

But, as contract law and commons sense tell us, if you say you’re going to do something, you are legally bound to do it. Even though the authors of the Constitution stood on their heads to exclude certain groups from its guarantees of rights, that single, simple pledge, All Men Are Created Equal, was a holy grail (lower case) that would spur all the Abolitionists, the civil rights workers, the Suffragettes, and every other gang working to achieve equality and guaranteed rights. It helps explain, for instance, why Black US Army soldiers could fight with such valor and determination in World War II, even though the country they were fighting for segregated them, imposed Jim Crow laws on them, and did all it could to convince them they were not as good, not as worthy, as White people.

All Men Are Created Equal was a promise. A lot of blood has been shed by people trying to get America to keep that promise.

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The arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice. — Theodore Parker

Power concedes nothing without a demand. It never did and it never will. — Frederick Douglass

It is possible to read the history of this country as one long struggle to extend the liberties established in our Constitution to everyone in America. — Molly Ivins

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