Deborah Sampson (1760-1827) is well-remembered for her actions during the Revolutionary War. She decided it was her calling to serve in the Continental Army, so she disguised herself as a man and enlisted.

She served successfully for 17 months in an area near West Point, known as Neutral Ground. The discovery of her gender occurred when she was sent with her regiment to Philadelphia. Many of the soldiers—including Deborah- became seriously ill. Sampson’s fever became so high that she lost consciousness, and a doctor treating her must have realized her circumstances. He did not turn her in at that time.

To fully measure Deborah Sampson’s grit, readers must see that her bravery was not a temporary wartime impulse, but her defining trait. She grew up in poverty. Because she was placed as an indentured servant, she realized that overcoming difficulty meant rejecting traditional boundaries. Throughout her life, Sampson had to forge her own way.

Growing Up in Massachusetts

Deborah Sampson (also spelled Samson in some sources) was born in Plympton, Massachusetts. She came from parents of notable lineage. Her father Jonathan was descended from Henry Samson who crossed to the colonies on the Mayflower. Her mother was the great-granddaughter of William Bradford, the second Governor of Plymouth Colony.

Despite this heritage, her parents could barely get by in this new country. The couple soon had seven children. Jonathan Sampson announced he could help them by going to sea, leaving his wife at home with seven children and little money.  (If Jonathan did go to sea, he never returned home. Later he was found living in Maine with a new wife.)

In that era, mothers who were overwhelmed often placed some of the children with other families. This was the option that Deborah’s mother chose, and Deborah was one of five who were sent elsewhere. Initially, Deborah lived as a companion with an elderly relative, but Deborah was only five at the time, so her mother found another option. Deborah was moved to live with a woman referred to as Widow Thatcher. (Widow Thatcher is thought to be the person who taught Deborah to read and write.) But when the widow died, Deborah’s mother needed yet another solution.

Indentured Servant

Deborah’s mother saw that she needed a more permanent placement for Deborah.  The Jeremiah Thomas family in Middleborough, Massachusetts had many children, and one of their daughters lived at home with children of her own. The Thomas family wanted an indentured servant (a person who remained with them for a guaranteed number of years in return for room and board).  They accepted Deborah and made an arrangement with her mother that she would stay with them until she was 18. Deborah worked hard and was kept very busy.

Jeremiah Thomas was not a mean man, but he saw no need to provide Deborah with anything but her basic needs of food and clothing. He also saw no need for women to be educated. Sampson saw a way around that. She suggested that she stay with the children when they were being tutored so that she could help them with their homework.  Thomas eventually agreed that she could do so if her other work was done.

Living with the Thomas family was not a happy situation for Deborah Sampson, but she created opportunities for herself when she could. While living in their household, she learned woodworking and weaving—two tasks that were beyond the scope of most servants, and ones that were helpful to her later on.

After Her Indentured Service

When Deborah Sampson finished her servitude with the Thomas family, she knew she could rely only on herself. She talked to families in the area whom she thought might need tutoring for their children and/or weaving of cloth for their clothes. Several families welcomed her, so she moved from household to household on an as-needed basis.

One of the tasks she often did for families was run errands, and this frequently took her in and out of the local taverns where the war was being discussed. The Thomas family sent several sons to war, and some of the churches in Middleborough stood against being under the thumb of Great Britain. As Deborah went around the town, she heard much talk about the importance of liberty. After her time as a servant, she felt it, too.  

Deborah Sampson’s Determination to Enlist

While Deborah Sampson’s interest in enlisting was unusual, she had few things holding her back. Her mother was rarely in touch, and Deborah had no lasting ties to the community. She lived as an independent woman. Her exposure to the Patriots’ cause in the taverns and around town must have increased her interest in finding a way to participate. She agreed with the cause for which the Patriots were fighting. The option of adventure and better payment may have persuaded her to come up with the ruse of dressing as a man and enlisting.

She was tutoring and weaving at a home where the family’s son was off to war. Since Deborah stayed in the son’s room, she investigated the clothes he left behind and began experimenting with her appearance. She was a tall (about 5/7”), big-boned woman. She bound her chest and tried on the clothing in his room. They were larger than she needed, but she could see possibilities. When the family was out of town, Sampson tried going out in male garb and must have felt comfortable enough. 

As she developed her plan, Deborah used the young man’s clothing as a pattern for sewing the clothing she needed to make for herself.

Why Did Recruiting Take Place After Yorktown?

Cornwallis surrendered to the Continental Army at Yorktown in the fall of 1781.  But the war was not yet over. The British still occupied New York City, Charleston, and Savannah. Washington knew that if he disbanded the army, the British would re-initiate major attacks. In the meantime, skirmishes occurred up and down the coast for two more years.

For that reason, the towns in Massachusetts were still actively recruiting in the spring of 1782, and Deborah felt ready.

We know from the book she permitted Hermann Mann (The Female Review: Life of Deborah Sampson) to write that her enlistment was her second attempt to join the Army.  Her first attempt was in her local area. Though she felt well-disguised, someone remarked that she looked familiar. Deborah was spooked and gave up the signing bonus she had been promised if she enlisted.

But she didn’t give up. She traveled to another area, Uxbridge, Massachusetts (south of Worcester). No one there knew her, and she signed up as “Robert Shurtleff,” (the records spell her name multiple ways).  Some sources say she had a deceased brother by this name, but ancestry records show that is not true.

Assigned to the 4th Massachusetts

Upon her enlistment on May 20, 1782, she was assigned to Captain George Webb’s company within the 4th Massachusetts Regiment. This unit functioned as “light infantry”—the 18th-century equivalent of an elite, rapid-response force. Reserved exclusively for the army’s most agile and physically fit soldiers, the light infantry specialized in high-stakes reconnaissance, advance skirmishing, and critical rear-guard actions that demanded exceptional endurance.

The regiment was soon deployed to the Hudson Highlands and Westchester County, a chaotic region flanking the strategic American stronghold at West Point. Designated as “Neutral Ground,” the area was anything but peaceful. With the British firmly entrenched in nearby New York City, this No Man’s Land dissolved into absolute lawlessness, defined by constant, bloody skirmishes.

Loyalist marauders routinely terrorized the countryside, turning daily life into a psychological nightmare for local families. Desperate to protect their livelihoods, farmers hid their livestock in nearby swamps and abandoned their beds at night, sleeping in the woods to avoid being attacked in their own homes.

The 4^th Massachusetts was among the units trying to defend the residents, and it was brutal, guerilla-style combat.

Living With the Men

Living in tight quarters in huts with men presented its challenges. Deborah was discreet when she had to take care of personal needs or change clothes. Perhaps because of her size (she was taller than many men who enlisted), no one suspected anything. She learned all the gun maneuvers, marched well, and took orders.

On one occasion she offered to help a fellow soldier mend his uniform, but she soon realized that she shouldn’t make a practice of demonstrating her sewing skills. 

Injured

As a member of Captain George Webb’s elite light infantry unit, “Robert Shurtleff” was part of a 30-man scouting patrol sent south from West Point. Their mission was to hunt down a notorious band of heavily armed Loyalist raiders—frequently called “Cowboys”—who had been terrorizing local Patriot farmers.

Near Tarrytown, the scouting party ran headfirst into an ambush. The fighting quickly devolved from a distant firefight into a chaotic, hand-to-hand melee amidst the brush and trees.

Shurtleff/Sampson sustained two wounds—ono was a saber slash to the head; the other was two musket balls to the thigh. Other members of the company insisted Shurtleff seek medical attention. Deborah was terrified of discovery, so she focused on her head wound while minimizing what happened to her thigh. After her head was bound by the doctor, she left the medical office quickly and used a pocket knife to dig the musket balls out of her leg.

Unfortunately, the wound was serious, and the men were always on the move. Her leg never healed properly, and she was left with a limp. But Sampson was relieved. She accomplished her main goal. No one realized she was female.

New Assignment

Shurtleff/Sampson was a good soldier and was well-respected by the officers in her unit. When a request was sent out for an orderly to work for General John Paterson who was stationed near West Point, Shurtleff was selected. Sampson was concerned about leaving the familiar, but she didn’t have a choice.

All went well with her service for General Paterson, but Paterson needed send soldiers out on another assignment. The provisional government still had not worked out its finances. There was disagreement about currency, and the paper money issued had decreased greatly in value. Soldiers were  not being paid, and they were ready to go home.

 In June of 1783, a mob of roughly 400 unpaid, angry soldiers from the Pennsylvania Line marched on the State House in Philadelphia, blocking the doors and demanding their back pay from Congress.

A panicked Congress ordered George Washington to send federal troops to restore order. Washington dispatched a detachment from West Point under General John Paterson.  As a member of Paterson’s light infantry, Shurtleff/Sampson marched to Philadelphia with the unit, arriving in late June/early July (1783) to put down the rebellion.

 In Philadelphia, this coincided with an outbreak of “malignant fever.” (Disease experts speculate it was malaria.) Many in the city were ill, and those newly arrived, including the soldiers, were susceptible. A good number became ill, including Deborah. Her fever spiked, and she became unconscious. 

Very Sick

At that point, Sampson encountered great good luck. The doctor treating her, Dr. Barnabas Binney (1751-1787), took a look at the young patient and realized he was a her. Amazingly, Binney remained mum. Perhaps the doctor understood how much this soldier had given to the country. He lived with his wife and children, and he sent her to his own home to give her time and space to get better. 

After several weeks, Deborah was ready to live on her own. She feared the worst as she knew she needed to return to the military, but she was steadfast in accepting whatever happened to her.

Dr. Binney arranged for a carriage to take her back to Paterson’s headquarters. She carried with her a note from him to General Paterson. Sampson worried the whole trip about her fate, but when she got there, Paterson took the letter from her. Before reading it, he sent her off to her former quarters where the men were happy to welcome Robert back.

A few days later, she was summoned to come see General Paterson. He asked about her experience, thanked her for her service, and provided her with an honorable discharge on October 25, 1783.

After the Military

Fewer details are known about the next stage of Deborah Sampson’s life. She married Benjamin Gannett, a farmer who inherited a small farm in Sharon, Massachusetts, about 20 miles south of Boston. She became Deborah Sampson Gannett. The couple had 4 children, later adopting a fifth when the little girl was orphaned.

Unfortunately, their life was not easy. The land in Sharon was rocky, and the farm was too small to be able to compensate for the poor soil. The family was barely able to scrape by.

Petitioned for Back Pay

Though Deborah received an honorable discharge, no provision was made for a pension payment given the strange circumstances. She also never received back pay that others in her company received. 

The back pay seemed the most attainable, so in January of 1792, Sampson petitioned the Massachusetts State Legislature for the amount she was due “as a private soldier, under the name of Robert Shurtleff.” After serious consideration, the legislature granted her petition. Governor John Hancock signed it.  She was awarded 34 pounds plus back interest following her 1783 discharge.

It wasn’t much but anything helped.

Lecture Tour

By this time, Deborah Sampson’s story was known locally, so Sampson began thinking more broadly. In 1802, Sampson came up with a plan to travel the area, giving lectures about her wartime service. 

As her performance was staged, Sampson began her speech dressed as a woman, talking about the importance of women during Revolutionary War time.  She then stepped off stage returning in her uniform to demonstrate execution of the military drill and gun maneuvers she learned while in the service.

Audiences enjoyed the lectures, but the income from ticket sales still didn’t provide the funds her family needed.

Paul Revere Helped

After the war, Paul Revere established a copper-rolling mill in Canton, Massachusetts, which was just one town over from Sharon. According to information from the Massachusetts Historical Society, Revere was curious about the “female soldier” he heard about and in 1804, he decided to ride over to visit the Gannett family.

When Revere arrived, he was surprised. Instead of meeting a rough-hewn masculine- seeming woman, he found Deborah to be a refined and articulate woman who was exhausted by her circumstances. She still suffered greatly from the musket ball wound to her leg. Farm work was a struggle for her because of this. 

Details from manuscripts from the Paul Revere House show that Paul Revere noted firsthand how the family struggled. He was moved by her plight and outraged by the government’s neglect of a legitimate veteran, and Revere decided to use his massive political capital to help her. (Paul Revere House)

On February 20, 1804, Revere wrote a passionate letter to his district’s U.S. Congressman, William Eustis. In the letter, Revere didn’t just ask for a favor; he demanded justice. He wrote:

“I think her case much more deserving than hundreds to whom Congress have been generous… we may expect but little from the State Government; if she receives any relief, it must be from the Nation.”  (Massachusetts Historical Society: Object of the Month).

A letter from the highly-respected Patriot Paul Revere carried immense weight. Thanks directly to his intervention and political muscle, Congress finally broke through its bureaucratic gridlock. In 1805, Deborah Sampson was officially placed on the federal invalid pension list, securing her an annual payment that saved her family from financial ruin.

Death of Deborah Sampson

In 1827, Deborah Sampson died and was buried at Rock Ridge Cemetery in Sharon, Massachusetts.

Four years later, her husband Benjamin Gannett petitioned Congress for a pension as the spouse of a veteran.  Several years later (1837), the committee overseeing the history of the Revolution surprisingly agreed. Gannett was awarded a pension but died before he could receive it. 

Recognition Comes Eventually

Today, Deborah Sampson is well-remembered in Massachusetts for her pioneering spirit. In Sharon, she is commemorated by a life-sized bronze statue outside the Sharon Public Library. Her grave at Rock Ridge Cemetery remains a major historic landmark, uniquely bearing both her legal name and her military alias, Robert Shurtleff.

In 1983, Massachusetts further recognized her when they proclaimed her the Official Heroine of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts. That year the legislature also established May 23rd (the anniversary of her 1782 enlistment) as Deborah Sampson Day, ensuring that the woman who once had to conceal her identity to serve her country is now publicly celebrated by name every spring.

National Recognition

Sampson was also recognized on a national basis. In December of 2020, the Deborah Sampson Act was signed into law to “eliminate barriers to care and services” faced by women veterans. It also provides for an office of women’s health in the Office of Veteran Affairs.

Though the current administration has taken actions to reverse certain parts of the Deborah Sampson Act, the Act itself remains intact because it is a federal law. Structural changes like privacy provisions and specialized medical staffing are still mandated. Recent executive orders dial back some training programs and reproductive health services.

Despite these changes, the woman who once had to completely erase her identity just to serve her country is now the face of the law ensuring modern service women should not have to be invisible again.

***

For another story about women during revolutionary times, see Sybil Ludington, 16, Helped Patriots. There are some who question the full accuracy of the story but it provides an excellent look at the people and the times.

The 250^th anniversary of America’s independence—our Semiquincentennial– is just a few months away.

The celebrations are intended to begin on July 4, marking the 250^th year since the signing of the Declaration of Independence (July 4, 1776). But excitement throughout the country is building.

There will be events that come before July 4, 2026, as well as long after. The intent is to celebrate the remarkable founding of the country and to honor the contributions of all Americans who have participated in creating the country we now enjoy. Many events will also examine our future.

But What About the Confounding Name?

If you haven’t a clue about the complicated term for the celebration—the Semiquincentennial instead of simply calling it 250—here is the breakdown:  The word is built from Latin and is dissected this way: Semi– (half) + Quinque- (five) + Centum (hundred) + -ennial (relating to years)  Put together, it literally means “half of five hundred,” or 250 years.

Stories Told Throughout the Country

While the federal government is crafting the events they want to highlight, they will not be the only voice heard. Celebrations will come from thousands of places–decentralized local, state, and non-governmental initiatives that have important stories to tell.  

Nearly every state and territory has established its own commission (e.g., America 250 NC, America 250 CT). Many of these state bodies have explicitly adopted themes of inclusivity. Many of the events will reckon with the past, and tell a more complete narrative that incorporates local histories of women, Native Americans, and African Americans. They do so because that’s the only way to tell their area’s story in an appropriate way.

By listening to the stories that will be told across the country over many months, Americans will find a complete documentation of how our country was built—and how we can do better.

Where to Start

While many of the celebrations will emanate from the eastern seaboard—Boston, New York, Washington, and Virginia—there will be many places in your own region where you can go to learn local stories. And of course, websites from museums and various government entities will let you time travel from home.

For many, however, the lure of a trip to Boston or Philadelphia will be strong.  If you make it to Philadelphia, then you can’t go wrong with a visit to the Museum of the American Revolution, a relatively new (2017) addition to Philadelphia’s incredible offerings. 

The Museum of the American Revolution

A visit to the museum promises many treats. The exhibit halls are informative and visitors glide easily from room to room. They stand beneath the replica of the Liberty Tree, a touchstone where colonists gathered to debate British policy and how the residents should react.

The galleries explain the harrowing road to independence, including stories from diverse perspectives, including women and Native Americans. Throughout there are significant artifacts on display.

Most exciting and dramatic is the presentation of George Washington’s Headquarters Tent. The tent is presented in a dedicated theater where its story is told. The film explores Washington’s leadership and the tent’s role as his mobile office where he strategized, wrote dispatches, and made pivotal decisions throughout much of the war. As the story builds, so does the excitement about seeing the actual tent. When the curtain rises, the low lights reveal the beauty of the actual tent. It is truly awe-inspiring.

Museum Has a Very American Story

While the opening of the Museum in Philadelphia did not occur until 2017, the idea for the museum began more than 100 years before this. In the early 1900s, an Episcopal priest, Reverend W. Herbert Burk (1867-1933), became enthralled by the story of Valley Forge. It was just 25 miles from where his own church was located in Norristown, Pennsylvania.

Valley Forge, of course, was not a battlefield, but it played a significant role during the Revolutionary War.  This was the location where George Washington decided he and his troops could best survive the winter of 1777-1778. Unfortunately for all, the cold weather that year was particularly harsh. Most soldiers had inadequate clothing, there was sickness, and it was difficult to keep the men fed. The soldiers suffered terribly.

Because of Father Burk’s interest in Valley Forge, he visited the area whenever he could. In 1903, he gave a sermon to his congregation to commemorate Washington’s birthday. Reverend Burk introduced the idea that an Episcopal chapel should be built in Valley Forge in memory of George Wahington.

His suggestion was well received. Others in the congregation began to help out. Slowly, donations were given in nickels and dimes. As the small donations came in, construction began and the walls were built a “few feet at a time.”

Father Burk and others also began acquiring Washington-related artifacts, which was relatively easy given the Valley Forge location.

As the project went on, Burk established the Valley Forge Museum of American History and suggested a small display area be added to the chapel. 

Interesting Inquiry

As Burk continued to collect items, he received an intriguing inquiry.  Would he be interested in acquiring George Washington’s headquarters tent that was used at Valley Forge?

The tent was in the possession of Mary Custis Lee (1835-1918), great granddaughter of Martha Washington and daughter of Robert E. Lee.

Custis Lee was in the process of finding homes where her family’s inherited artifacts would be appreciated. Though she had higher bidders for the tent, Custis Lee favored Father Burk’s project at Valley Forge. She felt the tent belonged in the museum created to honor the Valley Forge encampment.

In 1909, she sold the main section of the tent to Reverend Burk for $5,000 to raise funds for Confederate widows.

But Where Had the Tent Been?

After the Revolutionary War, the tent was preserved by the descendants of Martha Washington, primarily the Custis and later the Lee families, at Mount Vernon and then later Arlington House. (Arlington House was built by George Washington Parke Custis 1781-1857).

During the Civil War, Union forces seized Arlington House, and the tent and other family belongings were confiscated. The tent and other items were stored at the U.S. Patent Office in Washington, D.C. (The home itself was claimed by Union soldiers and became Arlington National Cemetery.) 

In 1901 by order of President William McKinley, Washington’s artifacts were returned to the Custis-Lee family who had originally inherited them.  George Washington Parke Custis Lee was the rightful heir. However, Lee had no children, so his sister, Mary Custis Lee, took responsibility and determined the future of the relics.

When Burke took possession of the tent, he made it the centerpiece of the American history museum in the display area of the Washington Memorial Chapel. By this time, Burk established a Valley Forge Historical Society oversee the collection.

In 2000, the administrators of the historical society knew it needed to prepare to grow bigger. It created a nonprofit organization, the Museum of the American Revolution, to expand on ways to tell the story of the nation’s founding.

Plans Made for a Valley Forge Center

The original intent of the nonprofit was to build a museum in the Valley Forge National Historical Park. Planning started in 1999, but as so often happens, zoning and economic issues caused delays. Then a funder, H.F. Gerry Lenfest (1930-2018) joined the Board of Directors (becoming chairman) and pushed the project forward.

Lenfest bought 78 acres of property in Valley Forge. He felt that like Gettysburg, the area could offer a tourism and hospitality hub (a hotel, restaurants, a conference center, and of course a larger museum).  But residents objected to the commercial encroachment upon the area, and they battled successfully to keep the mixed-use project out of their community.

Lenfest had excellent contacts. He got in touch with then-governor Edward G. Rendell, and together they created a new plan. Lenfest exchanged the 78 acres he purchased in Valley Forge for less than an acre of property at Third and Chestnut Streets in Philadelphia. This was actually prime territory for visitors to the city. The location is in the heart of historic Philadelphia, steps away from Independence Hall and the Liberty Bell.

Excavation

One of the bonuses of the new site was that the city has stringent zoning and deed restrictions. An archaeological survey was required. The dig occurred over several months in 2014, and they found 82,000 artifacts that date to Philadelphia’s founding. These were wonderful additions to the collection.

The museum opened on April 19, 2017. The date was carefully chosen as it was the 242^nd anniversary of the Battle of Lexington and Concord.

Now, the museum is well-prepared to tell our country’s story on the occasion of the 250^th.

If You Can’t Get to Philadelphia…

Like most educational museums, the Museum of the American Revolution has an interesting and informative website. It tells a great deal about what visitors will see on their visit. It also provides photos and information about many of the objects on display.

But there is an added bonus to the site. Museum staff has assembled an extensive reading list that can be filtered based on age and interest of the reader (from children to scholarly adults).  In addition, the site includes short but helpful excerpts so that readers will get the sense of what each book is about.

Also included with the book lists are links to photos of items in the museum. This increases a reader’s knowledge about a particular topic. 

It’s a lovely way to “read into” the Semiquincentennial!

Sybil Ludington is known for her 40-mile night ride through parts of New York and Connecticut to alert American Patriots that the British military had come ashore in Connecticut and were marching inland. The date was April 26, 1777, and Sybil was the person chosen to alert the colonial militia so that the British could be pushed back.

About Sybil Ludington

Sybil Ludington (1761-1839) was the 16-year-old daughter of Colonel Henry Ludington of Fredericksburg in Dutchess County (the town is now Patterson, New York).

Sybil’s name is spelled in many ways; her tombstone is Sibbell. Other spellings to describe her are Sebil and Sibyl and Cybil. It is said she herself used the spelling, “Sebal.”

Her father was the commander of the Seventh Regiment of the Dutchess County Militia. The militia pre-dated the Revolutionary War. It consisted of colonists who volunteered to help protect their communities when needed. During the war, they supplemented the Continental Army. Those in the Continental Army served full-time during their term of conscription.

The challenge for the militia was dual responsibilities: needing to take care of matters at home while also being available to serve in the military. Certain times of year were particularly difficult, and in April it was important to be at home for planting. If the farmers did not get their fields started, there would be less food to eat.

The Threat

Colonists heard rumors that the British planned to destroy colonial supplies when they found them. Fishkill, New York, was a prime location for storage, but no definite timing was known. In preparation for this, the colonists moved some of their supplies to Danbury, Connecticut, to minimize the risk in Fishkill.

The British must have gotten word of the new location, as their latest plan was to land at Compo Beach in Connecticut and march inland. Their destination was Danbury. Their plan was to steal or destroy the colonial supplies. However, after landing on Compo Beach (near what is now Westport), they marched north toward Fairfield to mislead any scouts sent out by the Patriots.

Colonel Ludington Alerted

On the evening of April 26, 1777, Henry Ludington and his family were at home when an exhausted messenger and his horse pulled up in front of the Ludington house. He informed Ludington that the British military were ashore at Compo Beach. The Redcoats met up with the Loyalists in the area. (These were colonists who remained loyal to the Crown.) Both Loyalists and Redcoats were marching northwest in Connecticut.

To have the British Army marching inland was a serious threat. Ludington feared their goal was Danbury. He needed to gather his militia, who were all at home tending to their farms, to push back the British.

Alerting the Militia

The messenger who brought the news was totally spent as was his horse. Ludington had no nearby neighbors to send out to notify his militia, but he often relied on his older children. Sybil and her two sisters were the oldest of what would eventually be 12 children. Sybil and her next-in-age sister Rebecca regularly carried messages for the Colonel who owned property elsewhere in the county. One of them would have to do it.

While anyone would worry about sending a rider out on such a dangerous mission, Ludington had confidence that his sixteen-year-old daughter Sybil could do it. She was an excellent rider, and she knew the terrain and the whereabouts of Patriot’s farms.

The additional challenges for the rider were the timing and the weather. The message needed to be carried immediately, even though it was night. The weather had also been terrible. Several days of rain left the roads muddy, and the rain was still pelting down. Very little moonlight shone through.

The ride would be difficult, but he knew if anyone could do it, Sybil could.

Carrying the News

Sybil left home shortly after 9 p.m., riding an experienced horse. She carried with her a long, sturdy stick. Her father told her not to take time to dismount…to use the stick to rap on the windows or doors, shouting: “Call to arms! Call to arms! The Regulars and Tories are burning Danbury! The Militia is needed! Call to arms!”

At each home, she rode up and rapped hard on the door and gave her call. Generally, a sleepy homeowner holding a lighted candle peeked out to see who was at the house at that hour. A few recognized Sybil; all understood her call.

The militia knew that in such an emergency they were to get to Fredericksburg quickly to receive orders from Colonel Ludington.

After Sybil left home, the rest of the family were busy making cartridges that would be used in the muskets the men used.  Henry melted lead to make the musket balls, and other family members cut paper to wrap the ball and pack each with extra gunpowder.

Ludington Learns Sybil Made a Good Start

As the first men arrived in Fredericksburg, the Colonel was relieved to see them and to know that Sybil was making her way along the route. More men came in, and when about two hundred gathered, he led the first group out to find the British. Word was that the British had already sacked Danbury and were on the way to Redding, Connecticut.

As Sybil traveled the route, more men made their way to Fredericksburg. When they had another couple of hundred, they, too, made their way toward Redding.

Sybil’s Ride

Ultimately, Sybil rode a 40-mile loop to spread the news through what is now Putnam and Dutchess Counties. Her ride is described in a family memoir, Colonel Henry Ludington: A Memoir, written in 1907 by Willis Fletcher Johnson:

One who even now rides from Carmel to Cold Spring will find rugged and dangerous roads, with lonely stretches. Imagination only can picture what it was a century and a quarter ago, on a dark night, with reckless bands of Cowboys and Skinners [highway men] abroad in the land. But the child performed her task, clinging to a man’s saddle, and guiding her steed with only a hempen halter, as she rode through the night, bearing the news of the sack of Danbury.

There is no extravagance in comparing her ride with that of Paul Revere and its midnight message. Nor was her errand less efficient than his. By daybreak, thanks to her daring, nearly the whole regiment was mustered before her father’s house at Fredericksburg, and an hour or two later was on the march for vengeance on the raiders.

Highway men often lurked along the roads to rob unsuspecting travelers. The fact that Sybil was not stopped may be testimony to the bad weather. Not even a bandit thought it worth being out.

Arriving back home Sunday morning, her clothes were soaked through from the rain; she was hungry and exhausted. Her mother greeted her with relief and gave her a warm breakfast and put her to bed.

Sybil Ludington’s Accomplishment

Recent writers who tell Sybil’s story note that the tale might be apocryphal. Some speculate that the story came about long after the war to glorify women. Primary documents disprove this theory…and remember, women didn’t have the vote in 1907 so why would anyone be worried about creating heroines?

The first known telling of the story was in the 1880s by well-respected historian Mary Lamb. She reported that she used primary documents, they are not cited in her article. Then in the early 1900s, Sybil’s great nephew (Louis S. Patrick), a historian in Connecticut, decided to tell Colonel Ludington’s story. He gathered papers from Connecticut as well as from Dutchess and Putnam Counties, and then turned to seek out family diaries and journals of which there were plenty.

His effort became a journal article about Colonel Ludington that mentioned Sybil’s ride. After this brief biography, the family must have commissioned Willis Fletcher Johnson to write a more complete biography. Johnson worked from diaries, journals, and war documents gathered by Louis Patrick and produced “Henry Ludington: A Memoir.” The memoir was published privately in 1907, paid for by Ludington’s grandchildren. (The memoir is now available online.)

These early reports about Sybil were all included as part of a bigger story, and none of them glorified her as a hero. The story was told matter-of-factly: Sybil’s father needed help, and she was the oldest child. He turned to her and to his other children for help when he needed it.

Other Demonstrations of Family Unity

The British and Americans were no strangers to each other, having fought together during the French and Indian War. Colonel Ludington fought for the British and was well-respected. When he turned against the Crown, Tories and Loyalists knew this was a harmful thing for them.

And because the Colonel was a great militia leader for the Patriots, British officers offered a bounty of 300 guineas to anyone who could capture the skillful military leader. (Three hundred guineas would have been more than a colonist could make in a year.)

Rumors spread about the bounty, so the Patriots knew of it and were protective of their colonel. If members of the militia were in Fredericksburg, some of the men were assigned to guard the Ludington house.

But since the militia was part-time, they weren’t always there. For this reason, the family drilled for what to do if there were an attack. They suspected that any type of trouble would occur at night. Many evenings, Sybil and Rebecca kept watch on the woods from the second floor. Overnight, Henry slept lightly, listening for any trouble.

On Guard

One night, Sybil and Rebecca heard a commotion outside. The family knew what had to be done. The girls woke the next-oldest children who put on the Patriot hats their father gave them for such an occasion. Each also had a musket.

Sybil took candles, lighting and placing them in the rear of the upper story rooms where the lighting would provide long shadows of the children as they went back and forth in front of the light. In their hats and shouldering the muskets (probably with some difficulty) they patrolled back and forth before the candles. The Loyalists decided the militia was standing guard. This was enough to send them back to their own homes, leaving the Ludingtons alone.

The older children were also given the code words identifying spies. Because the Ludington house was on a frequently-traveled road, Ludington became a place where spies could pick up and leave messages. Even if their father wasn’t home, if the fellow knew the code words, they were permitted to come in and wash up and be fed.

The Ludington family had a lot of responsibility, and the took it seriously.

Later Life

In 1784, Sybil Ludington married Edmond Ogden. Ogden served in the Continental Army during the War, and he was also a tenant and tavernkeeper of an inn on Henry Ludington’s property. Sybil likely met him on one of her trips carrying miscellaneous messages.

When Colonel Ludington sold the property, Sybil and Edmond bought another inn in the Catskills where they raised their son, Henry.  When Edmond died in 1799, Sybil stepped in to run the inn.

Son Henry married and became an attorney. When he and his wife decided to move to Unadilla, New York, they didn’t want to leave his widowed mother behind. Sybil joined them, and the couple went on to have several more children.

One of them, Edmund Augustus Ogden (1811-1855), went on to West Point. He had numerous military assignments but is best remembered for overseeing the planning and building of Fort Riley in Kansas.  There is a monument to him there.

The War Was Won by Colonists Like Sybil

The Revolutionary War went on for seven years with battles up and down the East Coast. To win freedom from the Britain required bravery and brilliance from thousands of colonists who saw what had to be done to rid themselves of the tyranny of being ruled from afar.  Sybil was among them.

To read stories of more women during the Revolutionary War, click here. 

A Need for Scholarly Concern?

Modern scholars have worried about the accuracy of the Sybil Ludington’s story.

The incident—the British arriving in Connecticut and torching Danbury—is well-documented. Night riders raised the alarm, but was Sybil among them?

Suspicion of the story arose because the first time Ludington’s ride was documented in a history book, the year was 1880. The thinking goes that the centennial of the Revolution was being celebrated in many ways during that time. Perhaps Sybil’s story fit neatly into that.  (But we also need to acknowledge there are many reasons why a young female teenager’s story might not have been told.)

In an article on this subject in The Smithsonian magazine (March 2022), the writer notes that historian Vincent Dacquino had access to a trove of Ludington family documents. Among his findings was an 1854 letter written by one of Sybil’s nephews. Charles H. Ludington’s letter urged for recognition of her and wrote: “My Aunt Sybil rode on horseback in the dead of night..through a Country infested with Cowboys and Skinners to inform General Putnam.” 

Clearly, the story was told among family members and should lend added credibility to the story as it is told today.

And to read about other teenagers who took charge of their own lives, read about the Abernathy Boys.

During the Revolutionary War, there were numerous women who heroically stood up for the Patriots’ cause, yet so often the stories we hear take on the aspect of myth. Betsy Ross’ story is a good example.

Yet there are so many actions women took that were helpful to the cause.  Because of this, America Comes Alive presents to you three little-known stories of women who fought during our War of Independence. They, too, deserve celebration every July 4.

First woman to Receive Military Pension

Margaret Corbin (1751-1800) was wounded while fighting at the Battle of Fort Washington, and she eventually became the first woman to ever receive a military pension from Congress.

During the Revolutionary War, George Washington planned that Fort Lee (on the New Jersey side of the Hudson) and Fort Washington (on the Manhattan side; a park between West 183^rd and 185^th Streets is where the fort was once located) were to be on guard to prevent the British from moving up the Hudson River. It was vital to hold both forts.

Under the command of Colonel Robert Magaw, Fort Washington found itself under vicious attack by Hessian soldiers on behalf of the British on November 16, 1776.

At that time, wives of the military often followed the camps where their husbands were placed, helping with cooking and laundry.  That’s how Margaret Corbin of Philadelphia found herself at Fort Washington that November.  When the attack began, Margaret fought alongside her husband, John Corbin of the First Company of the Pennsylvania Artillery.  She prepared and handed him ammunition for the cannon he was firing.  When he was fatally shot, Margaret saw no choice but to take over.  She fired the cannon until she herself was wounded.

Later that day Fort Washington was overpowered by the Hessians and most of the Patriots at the fort were taken as prisoners.  However, the custom of the time was to release wounded soldiers; Margaret was let go. Some of her comrades saw that she got across the Hudson to Fort Lee where she received medical care.  She survived but never fully recovered from her wounds.

On July 6, 1779, Congress granted her half the monthly pay of a soldier in the Continental Army and a new set of clothes or its equivalent in cash. With this act, Margaret Corbin became the first woman in the United States to receive a military pension from Congress.

Massachusetts Militia Leader

Prudence Wright (1740-1823) was living in Pepperell, Massachusetts with her husband when the Battles of Lexington and Concord occurred on April 19, 1775. The able-bodied men in town left immediately to participate in the fight.

A few days later with the men still away, word spread that British messengers were expected to come through the town, traveling from the north and carrying messages to the British commanders south of Pepperell.

From house to house, the word spread. The women were to dress in men’s clothing and meet at Jewett Bridge, the main access leading into the town from the north. They brought along any firearms left behind by the men and then buttressed their weapon supply with tools like pitchforks.

Once gathered, the group numbered 30-40 women, and they elected Prudence Wright to be the captain.  The group came to be known as Mrs. David Wright’s Guard.

Remaining on watch at the bridge, the women continued talking. They were nervously excited and had no idea what to expect. Would one messenger or ten be coming along this road?

As it happened, two Loyalists (those loyal to the British crown) came on horseback. They heard the women’s voices, and one who recognized Prudence’s voice turned and ran, but Captain Whiting kept moving forward. He assumed the women were no threat.

When the women realized the expected messenger had arrived, they surrounded him, seized his horse, and compelled him to dismount and submit to a search. In his boots were found treasonable papers. They then marched him in to the local tavern where they enjoyed a fine supper and guarded their prisoner until morning, at which time they delivered him into military custody at Groton. The papers they had found in his boot were sent to the committee of safety at Charlestown.

 Southern Plantation Owner Willing to Sacrifice House for the Patriot Cause

Rebecca Motte (1737-1815) owned a beautiful home that was situated high above Charleston, South Carolina. It was the perfect location for a fort, so when the British took over the area in 1781, they promptly moved her out.

Motte did not take this well, personally or politically. She was a firm Patriot, and this was the second time one of her homes had been overrun by the British.

The Patriots approached her with their strategy that the only way to evict the British from this prime location was to fire on the home with the intent of burning it down.  Motte heartily approved the plan and provided them with the ammunition they needed to set the house on fire.

The plan worked.  The British fled and the Patriots moved in and were able to douse enough of the flames that much of the house survived.

Rebecca Motte celebrated the occasion by preparing a wonderful dinner for the Patriots as well as their British captives. She even spoke at the dinner about the importance of the cause, a very unusual occurrence for a woman of this time.

George Washington was said to have been a man who loved dogs and owned many. He was an avid hunter, and most of his dogs were hunting dogs.

The Marquis de Lafayette was known to have sent seven staghounds to George Washington in a sign of friendship. A photo of this breed shows a likeness to what we know today as greyhounds.  In colonial times, these dogs were great hunters, but they were bred to hunt via speed and sight; scent was not key to their hunting ability.  Sweet Lips, Scentwell, and Vulcan were the names of three of Washington’s staghounds.

Washington also owned Black and Tan coonhounds.  These dogs were scent hounds, and those whose names are known were called Drunkard, Taster, Tippler, and Tipsy (It would be nice to know more about this choice of names!).

One source says that Washington bred the Black and Tan coonhounds with the staghounds, which may have resulted in Americas first fox hounds. For more about George Washington’s dogs, see George Washington’s Poodle.)

But a story about a dog found on a battlefield reveals a great deal about the character of the man who was to be our first President.

The Battle of Germantown

In July of 1777, British General William Howe moved his forces toward Philadelphia in an effort to seize the city that was serving as the revolutionary capital for the Patriots.

By September of 1777, Washington and the Continental Army  suffered a couple of serious defeats. Cornwallis successfully marched into Philadelphia and claimed it for the British, so American spirits were low.  Since Philadelphia was successfully claimed, General Howe arranged for the next move for the British. He sent off his men to Germantown.

With winter approaching, Washington felt he had time for one more attack and thought the British arriving at Germantown were vulnerable. Washington’s plan was a brave one–and if it had been successful, it could have made a huge difference in the war.

However, Washington over-estimated his men’s preparedness, and fog made the job almost impossible. The men could not coordinate their movements because they could not see what was happening on the battlefield.

The British were again successful, assuring that Philadelphia would remain in British hands for the remainder of the war.

Small Dog Found

After the battle, a small dog was found on the battlefield. One of the American soldiers picked up the dog and saw from his collar that he belonged to General Howe.  The men took the dog to Washington and asked that they hold the dog in retribution for their defeat at the hands of Howe’s men.

But Washington was ever the gentleman.  He arranged for a messenger to return the dog to Howe with a two-line letter:

“General Washington’s compliments to General Howe, does himself the pleasure to return [to] him a Dog, which accidentally fell into his hands, and by the inscription on the Collar appears to belong to General Howe.”

While many of the stories about Washington’s character seem to have been created by his earliest biographer, Parson Weems, this lovely story of kindness and gallantry is one that can be fully documented as a draft of the note still exists.  It is written in the handwriting of Washington’s aide-de-camp Alexander Hamilton, and the note can be found is in the Washington Papers at the Library of Congress.

To read more about the dogs owned by General Washington, click on George Washington Owned a Poodle.

And for another story of the Revolutionary War, see Sybil Ludington, 16, Helped the Patriots.

Throughout his life George Washington (1732-1799) suffered from dental problems. He lost many of his teeth while still young.

The story of his teeth reveals a great deal about the state of dentistry during his lifetime, but it also reminds us how our presidents are rarely permitted to show pain or weakness of any kind.

Presidential Health Problems Are Common

We are well aware of the toll that the presidency takes on the men who are elected based on early and later photographs of them.  Less frequently addressed are the various health issues that many presidents have faced. These matters would have made many of their days in office an additional personal trial.

Franklin D. Roosevelt was severely incapacitated by polio, and his wheelchair was never permitted in photographs. Grover Cleveland had a cancerous lesion in his mouth, and the surgery to remove it was performed on a yacht so the press would not know. And only after his death did we learn that John F. Kennedy suffered from debilitating back pain.

George Washington’s Teeth Not Wooden

It has been widely reported that George Washington’s false teeth were made of wood, but Ron Chernow, author of Washington: A Life (Penguin 2010) reports that this was not true. According to the biography, some of his teeth were fashioned from ivory, but some were made from human or animal teeth. (In Washington’s financial documents, he writes of a purchase of nine teeth from slaves.)

Chernow speculates that the myth that the teeth were made from wood probably originated because those that were made from ivory may have stained along along hairline fractures in the ivory. This might have made them appear to be made of a grainy wood.

In addition to the chronic pain he suffered, Washington was very self-conscious about how the substitute teeth made him look. In one letter to his dentist he commented, they “bulge my lips out in such a manner as to make them appear considerably swelled.”

One pair of his dentures was made by scientist and portrait painter, Charles Wilson Peale. Peale, too, suffered mouth problems. He began making dentures for himself and may have offered to make a set for Washington. The two may have first met when Peale arrived to paint Washington’s portrait. Peale’s portrait of Washington is the earliest known portrait we have of the first president.

To make the dentures, Peale used both elephant teeth and human teeth for the lower dentures. Experts think the upper teeth were made from the teeth of dairy cattle. All these various teeth were placed in a lead base, and the plates were connected by steel springs. In all likelihood, Washington’s teeth may have clacked as he talked. (These dentures are now preserved at George Washington’s estate, Mount Vernon.)

Because dentures of the day were so uncomfortable, dentists routinely prescribed opiate-based powder to use to alleviate pain.

Dentistry was in its Infancy

In the late 1700s, dentistry was extremely basic.  Alcohol would have been the most common way to try to deaden a person’s pain when a dentist had to pull a tooth. (Anesthesia for dentistry was not introduced until the 1840s.) There was some understanding about the importance to keeping one’s teeth clean, but there was no understanding of how to heal swollen gums.

As early as 1760, when Washington would have been only 28, one of Washington’s aides wrote that Washington generally kept his mouth firmly closed but when he opened it he revealed “defective” teeth. Shortly after Washington’s marriage to Martha, the household records showed that he ordered from London six bottles of a “brew” that was designed to cleanse teeth and cure toothaches.

During the Revolutionary War, Washington relied on a dentist by the name of Baker. Unfortunately for Washington, one of his missives to Baker was in a box with a set of his dentures. The package was intercepted by the British. After obtaining the letter with the teeth, the British took great pleasure in making fun of Washington. This caused Washington a great deal of distress.

At some point, Washington was contacted by Dr. Jean-Pierre Le Mayeur, a French dentist, who had heard the gossip about Washington’s teeth. The French had actually advanced in dentistry more rapidly than the English or the Americans had.  When Dr. Le Mayeur made his services available to Washington, Washington accepted. Le Mayeur became a frequent guest at Mount Vernon. He loved horses and riding, and so his visits may have been mutually beneficial.

Washington’s letters to Le Mayeur were written in veiled language, never directly mentioning dental work or dentures, probably because of his embarrassment over the previously intercepted letter. Le Mayeur had had some luck with implanting teeth for at least one patient, but if he tried such a thing with Washington, it did not work. By the time Washington was inaugurated in 1789 he had only one tooth remaining–the first bicuspid on the left of his lower jaw.

New Dentist for President Washington

After assuming the presidency, Washington relied on the dental services of dentist John Greenwood, a New York dentist. Since the government was based in New York City at that time, this made it easier for Washington to have his mouth attended to.  When the seat of government was moved to Philadelphia in  1790, President Washington was regretful about being separated from his dentist.

Greenwood tried to save Washington’s remaining tooth, and the dentures he fashioned for him were designed to anchor to that one tooth. The dentures were made of real teeth set in ivory. (Scientists at the Smithsonian did an evaluation of these teeth and felt that two of the teeth may have been from a hippopotamus, others from an elephant). The upper and lower dentures were connected by curved gold springs in the back of the mouth. Beneath the lower plate of the dentures was an inscription: “Under jaw. This was the Great Washington’s teeth by J. Greenwood. First one made by J. Greenwood 1789.” (The New York Times, 3-30-1991)

The apparatus meant that Washington was limited to eating only soft foods as dentures were not yet adequate for real chewing, and the springs made public speaking painful and difficult.

Washington must have written to Greenwood about the fact that his teeth were discoloring. Greenwood wrote back that the port wine Washington drank was having an ill effect on his dentures and darkening them: “I advise you to either take them out after dinner and put them in clean water and put in another set or clean them with a brush and some chalk scraped fine.”

As with his correspondence with Le Mayeur, Washington’s letters to Greenwood were secretive: “The contents of the box [sent to Washington by Greenwood] were perfectly agreeable to me and will…answer the end proposed very well.” While Greenwood offered to come personally to make adjustments and may have done so, their correspondence makes it clear that Washington tinkered with them on his own as well.  His diary entry for January 17, 1790, notes: “Still indisposed with an aching tooth and swelled and inflamed gum.”

In 1796, Greenwood and Washington finally had to give up on the remaining tooth. Greenwood pulled the tooth and set it aside while he finished up with him important patient. He kept the tooth for himself.

Later, he drilled a hole through the center of the tooth so it could be suspended from a watch chain by a thread or chain. But Greenwood worried that the tooth needed more protection, so he had it encased in an oval gold locket with glass on two sides. It bears the inscription: “In New York 1790, Jn Greenwood made Pres Geo Washington a whole sett of teeth. The enclosed tooth is the last one which grew in his head.”

The lower denture and Greenwood’s pocket watch, chain and fob were donated to the New York Academy of Medicine in 1937 by Greenwood’s descendants.

Living with Pain

It was sometimes noted that Washington had a hair-trigger temper, and for anyone who has ever had a headache or a toothache, we can certainly see why.

Our round-the-clock coverage of recent presidents makes it clear that staying in bed with a headache or a bad cold is rarely an option for an American leader. While Washington might have had a little more freedom to take a day off now and then without the world being aware of it, the country’s circumstances likely dictated that staying home to nurse one’s pain was rarely an option. We can only admire the strength and fortitude he showed in putting his country’s needs ahead of his own despite living with what must have been constant discomfort.

To read about George Washington’s childhood, click here.