My Life With AI—Part VIII: The Fallacy Of Grading GenAI

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Grading GenAILured you, didn’t I? When I said last time, “Eventually I realized the problem wasn’t GenAI. It was my prompt. I wasn’t asking it to preserve my voice. Once I explained that preserving my voice was part of the assignment, the results improved dramatically.” You no doubt thought, “What was his prompt?”

There is an art and a skill to training AI. That’s a bit involved and definitely depends on your use and needs. It’s also not the subject of this column. Rather than discussing how to train GenAI, I want to discuss something just as important: how to evaluate it.

Every semester, students receive report cards. Imagine how little a report card would tell you if every student’s performance were reduced to a single grade covering every subject. A student who excels in mathematics may struggle in English. Another may write beautifully but never master chemistry. Yet when people ask, “Which AI is best?” that’s essentially what they’re asking.

The question assumes GenAI is good at only one thing—or at least that all of its talents can somehow be rolled into a single grade. That’s not how students work, and it isn’t how GenAI works either.

A software engineer would likely issue a very different report card than a historian. A graphic artist would grade subjects differently than an investment manager. That’s precisely the point.

The fallacy isn’t grading GenAI. The fallacy is believing you can give it one overall grade. Before you can issue a report card, you first need a grading rubric.

Every report card begins with the subjects being graded. For me, it reflects the work I actually do every week. There isn’t one universal report card because there isn’t one universal use for GenAI.

What makes me knowledgeable about grading GenAI? For one thing, I use it for a variety of applications. It’s like an assistant that I give all my mundane work to. You know. The kind of work that has to be done but which doesn’t pay the bills. (I keep all the important stuff for myself.)

Just as important as the variety of my tasks is the variety of the GenAI platforms I use. With the exception of Perplexity, I am not using the free versions of any of these platforms. In each case, I’m paying at the lowest billing rate (roughly $20 a month) for each of the following: ChatGPT (OpenAI), Grok (SpaceXAI), Claude (Anthropic), Gemini (Google), and Copilot (Microsoft). I don’t want usage barriers to limit my experiments, so I don’t limit myself to the free versions.

My focus is not on rating platforms. It’s on getting the job done. I’m not interested in determining which platform wins overall. I want to know which one performs best in the subjects that matter most to me.

Right off the bat, you can see how that priority limits the value of my assessment to you. If you’re doing exactly what I’m doing, my grading may be very useful. If you aren’t, your report card may look very different.

Next, it would make sense to tell you what I’ve been doing. Well, to be honest, my interest initially stemmed from a desire to understand the industry and its impact on publicly traded companies I may or may not currently own. AI is pervasive. Not just from the GenAI platforms, but within nearly all companies. These businesses are either incorporating AI applications into their current business models, or they’re at risk of falling behind their competitors. To understand the potential investment ramifications of AI, I needed to fully grasp the capabilities of current tools.

My first objective was not to find a practical application. It was to understand AI through a combination of macroeconomic and microeconomic analysis. But don’t worry, I won’t bore you with that. I will bore you with the method I employed to conduct this analysis: actually using GenAI to perform tasks that are useful to my business. These may be mundane tasks, but they’re also the kinds of tasks people normally do at work, including fact-checking, writing, and presenting.

To keep this missive from becoming a semester-long course, I’ll mention only the platform I graded highest in each category. I may elaborate on the full details in some future column (or columns), but here is the summary of my GenAI report card in the three categories I use it for:

Research and Fact-Checking: Here’s where GenAI is most likely to fail. It’s where hallucinations live. The best way to maintain control over the facts and trust the results is to know the facts already and have GenAI fact-check using only a limited library of vetted sources.

As of this writing, the highest mark here goes to Google’s ecosystem—not Gemini by itself, but Pinpoint, its AI-powered research tool. Pinpoint allows you to create a curated collection of your own digital content, including notes and public-domain source material. You can then use its Gemini-powered tools to ask questions about that collection. You can even ask it to produce citations for each fact presented. This reduces the risk of your falling for uncited hallucinations.

Note: Other platforms also allow you to organize your work into projects, spaces, or similar collections. These are not necessarily the same as a curated Pinpoint collection, and, depending on the platform, its settings, and how you word your prompt, the AI may draw upon information beyond your uploaded documents. I’d like to hear from anyone who’s able to use the other platforms like this.

Copyediting Without Losing Your Voice: This is the application everyone uses. Who doesn’t want to improve their writing? There are plenty of apps that you can attach to Word and other word processing programs to help you write better. Grammarly and ProWritingAid are examples. I use both. They’re good, but they don’t do what GenAI can do. (To be fair, GenAI can’t do what they do, either.)

Recall the problem with GenAI. It wants you to write by the book (excuse the pun) like a high school English teacher would. This can strip your voice out of your writing. You don’t want to do that. If people like your writing, they want the warts included. Don’t remove your writing warts.

The best way to accomplish this is to train the AI platform. Again, many GenAI platforms let you set up a “personal” profile. This can be done through projects or through personas. It’s better to do this through a distinct persona that contains your writing voice.

ChatGPT currently offers the best solution for this. I’ve created several distinct writing profiles based on the different genres and purposes for which I write. Each genre has its own style guide. When ChatGPT copyedits my work, not only does it allow me to retain my voice, but if my voice starts drifting to another genre (that’s a very human thing to do), it will tell me. That’s very helpful.

One thing I will add: I also use Claude to proofread my writing, but I’m very specific about what I want it to proofread (i.e., spelling, punctuation, grammar, and redundant words, phrases, and concepts). It’s been said Claude is best for writing. In some ways, that’s true, based on what it produces for editing. But because I haven’t been able to get Claude to edit as reliably in my voice, I still prefer ChatGPT.

Developing Presentations: For me, after writing, this is the second most useful application. Whether for work, family, or community organizations, PowerPoint presentations are prevalent. This is where GenAI can be most helpful. It can suggest themes and then organize your notes, papers, and any other original source material. The narrative it suggests generally has some sort of logic or rhythm to it. Make sure it is one that works for your audience.

Here I’ve found Grok to be most creative. In my own use, Grok has often produced ideas that feel more closely connected to the current online conversation. Its integration with X appears to help it tap into the raw feelings of the moment.

In addition, Grok has been given a bit of a personality. It likes to think outside the box. When I’m considering wild ideas for a presentation (which is usually what I consider in my presentations), I’ll use Grok for brainstorming themes, narratives, and even images.

You might notice that only three platforms received the highest marks. That’s because I’ve only recently returned to Perplexity and, for my purposes, it largely duplicates what the others are already doing. Also, I’ve left out Microsoft’s Copilot mainly because of the way I’ve set up my account. It makes it difficult to use side-by-side with the others. One thing I find annoying about it is that it pops up in my Word and Excel apps. I can’t figure out exactly what value it adds, but I’m open to more discovery.

A report card doesn’t tell you whether a student is “good.” It tells you how that student performed against a particular set of expectations. GenAI deserves the same fairness. Before asking which platform earns the highest marks, first ask whether you’re grading the right subjects. A carefully chosen rubric may reveal that the best AI isn’t the one with the highest overall score. It’s the one that helps you do your own work better.

That’s the fallacy of grading GenAI: The grade tells you as much about the teacher’s needs as it does about the student’s abilities.

My Life With AI—Part VII: The Joy Of Discovering The Hidden Value Of GenAI

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Hidden Value of GenAIHave you ever hired an intern? Besides having a good heart, you probably also hoped to get more work done. An intern can help you do it.

Hold this thought. I’ll come back to it in a moment.

Despite piquing my curiosity, I quickly abandoned the first generation of GenAI platforms. They were too inconsistent. That frustration led me to build my own local AI environment, which taught me Python but also taught me how demanding AI infrastructure really is. Ironically, while I struggled to Continue Reading “My Life With AI—Part VII: The Joy Of Discovering The Hidden Value Of GenAI”

Midsummer Musings

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Midsummer MusingsMidsummer is a misnomer. The Anglo-Saxons called it “midsumor.” They apparently stole the term “midsommar” from the Swedes (who may have themselves stolen it from the Germans). Unlike what your instinct tells you, it’s not really about the middle of the summer. It’s about the summer solstice. That would be the beginning of summer.

But don’t blame the Old English. The blame goes to the Romans, who, to be fair, once ruled the province of Britannia. In the strictest chronological terms, this would fall under the category of “Older than Old England.” Julius Caesar first invaded the island in 55 BC. About a century later, in 43 AD, Emperor Claudius formally conquered it. Rome would hold the land that would become Great Britain for nearly four hundred years.

A lot of things can happen in four centuries. For one thing, the conquered can assimilate the customs of the conquerors. The Romans were just as likely to adopt the customs of those they conquered. Call it a compromise of sorts.

It appears the festival of midsummer either was—or wasn’t—an example of this blending of traditions. With or without Roman influence, there seems to be some confusion among scholars as to what exactly midsummer festivals comprised. Sandra Billington, a folklore researcher, proposed a decade ago that the idealized portrayals of pagan midsummer celebrations might not be accurate. She suggested they were often entangled with sun-worship activities.1

Remember that point. It’s not the rabbit hole it appears to be.

The Romans, however, did celebrate a midsummer festival. It was for the goddess Fors Fortuna (a.k.a., “Fortune”). At least it started roughly about the date of the summer solstice. For some reason, Romans considered the summer solstice to be midsummer. Nonetheless, the practice of the midsummer festival spread.

Eventually, the Catholic Church did a jiu-jitsu on the Romans and began adopting their (now classified as pagan) holidays into Church holidays. Midsummer thus became “St. John’s Day,” marking the birth of St. John the Baptist. (For those keeping score at home, he’s the guy who baptized Jesus and whose head was cut off on a lark to please the king’s stepdaughter). It is among the highest-ranking liturgical feasts in the Catholic Church. It’s also one of the oldest festivals, dating back no later than 506 AD. It remains a significant holiday in other Christian denominations.

Here’s the odd thing about celebrating Saint John’s Day (or, more precisely, St. John’s Eve): it involves lighting bonfires. Lots of bonfires.

Which, ironically, is what the sun-worshipers did. Not the Romans, though. While details are scant in ancient writings, the joyful community-centered festival of Fors Fortuna involved boating, offering trinkets to her temple, and heavy drinking. It wasn’t quite a full-fledged Bacchanalia, but Ovid was quite blunt when he wrote in Book VI of Fasti:

Come, Quirites, celebrate with joy the goddess Fors! On Tiber’s bank she has her royal foundations. Speed some of you on foot, and some in the swift boat, and think no shame to return tipsy home from your ramble. Ye flower-crowned skiffs, bear bands of youthful revellers, and let them quaff deep draughts of wine on the bosom of the stream.”2

I particularly like the use of the word “tipsy,” which I found in nearly all the translations. Certainly, no compromising there.

Nothing in Ovid hints at sun-worshiping or sun worshipers. Although you shouldn’t be surprised if these young party-goers didn’t catch a few rays whilst traversing the Tiber.

Ancient celebrations often reveal how every generation reinterprets the same symbols to suit its own needs.

Speaking of sun-worshiping and compromise, a thought struck me the other day. There are a lot of people who don’t want to see our environment polluted by the likes of acres and acres of solar farms. Similarly, there are a lot of people who think solar farms are the cat’s pajamas—the future of clean energy.

Along the same lines, many people find themselves inspired to explore all generative AI has to offer (and it does, while, at the same time, it doesn’t, but more on that in another column). Still others seem to believe it’s a drain on our energy resources. To this end, our Governor has sided with the latter and announced a moratorium on the creation of data centers in the State.

In the spirit of compromise, maybe the sun worshipers and the AI revelers—if you’ll pardon Ovid’s phrase—can find peace in compromise.

Perhaps every data center that’s built should have a solar farm on its roof. They are pretty big, after all.

And maybe we can require every solar farm to have a data center built beneath those black panels. Now that would make a really big data center. If data centers are better when they’re bigger, putting one under every solar farm ought to make everybody happy.

How’s that for midsummer musings?

Because you’ve made it this far, I give you a bonus musing. When exactly is midsummer? It makes no sense to think like the Romans and claim “mid” summer occurs on the first day of summer (i.e., the summer solstice). Nor does it make sense that midsummer is July 15th (i.e., the ides of July and the preferred midsummer date of many).

If we were to look at the calendar, summer starts the third week of June and ends the third week of September. That makes midsummer fall somewhere between the first and second week of August.

Then again, perhaps the real midpoint of summer isn’t measured by the calendar at all, but by when we finally begin wondering where it went.

Now, that’s real musing!

1 Billington, Sandra. “The Midsummer Solstice As It Was, Or Was Not, Observed in Pagan Germany, Scandinavia and Anglo-Saxon England.” Folklore, vol. 119, no. 1, 2008, pp. 41–57. JSTOR, http://www.jstor.org/stable/30035459. Accessed 19 July 2026.
2 Ovid, Fasti, Book VI, § 6.771  VIII. KAL. 24th https://topostext.org/work/143. Accessed 19 July 2026.

Competing Dreams of the Genesee—Part II: Phelps And Gorham Play By The Rules

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Phelps and GorhamBefore there was Phelps and Gorham, there was only Phelps.

Oliver Phelps came into this world on October 21, 1749 near Poquonock, Hartford County of the Connecticut Colony.21 The seventeenth child of Thomas Phelps, Oliver’s father died only three months after his birth, leaving his family destitute. At the young age of seven, Oliver got his first job working at a store in Suffield. Despite his employment, he was able to attain a modest education. By the time he was twenty-one, he had relocated to Granville, Massachusetts, “where he established a prosperous mercantile business and became recognized as one of the leading citizens.”22

An ardent patriot from the beginning of the Revolutionary War, Phelps was there at Lexington. With his business experience, and not because of any family wealth or ties, he was appointed to the commissary department, where he served until the end of the war.23

Livingston came from one of New York’s most prominent families. Phelps, on the other hand, rose from far humbler beginnings through trade, logistics, and business. While he may have Continue Reading “Competing Dreams of the Genesee—Part II: Phelps And Gorham Play By The Rules”

Competing Dreams For The Genesee Country—Part I: John Livingston and the Lessees

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John LivingstonThe future of the Genesee Country remained uncertain even after the Treaty of Hartford settled the dispute between Massachusetts and New York. The question was no longer who owned the land, but what would become of it.

Before Hartford, uncertainty reigned. Competing state claims clouded ownership and discouraged investment. The treaty transformed a disputed wilderness into a marketable asset. Speculators, investors, politicians, and settlers quickly recognized the opportunity.

While Hartford settled one argument, it spawned several new ones.

By the beginning of 1787, two roads stretched westward across a region that would one day become the Crossroads of America. Each promised prosperity. Each attracted ambitious followers. Yet each offered a very different vision for the future of the Genesee Country.

With the ink on the Treaty of Hartford barely dried, ambitious men set out along both roads.

The race to the future had begun.

*     *     *     *     *

Why has history forgotten John Livingston? While his accomplishments pale in comparison to Continue Reading “Competing Dreams For The Genesee Country—Part I: John Livingston and the Lessees”

The Birth Of Western New York: Treaty of Hartford Explained

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Treaty of HartfordDecember 16, 1786. The birth nobody noticed.

There were no celebrations. No proclamations. No public awareness.

The Treaty of Hartford untangled a century of confusion. Yet there was very little newspaper coverage of the event. Maybe because New England had more important news to cover.

Still, the long-term consequences could not be denied. The Commissioners in Hartford quietly altered the future of more than six million acres.

The birthplace of Greater Western New York was not a battlefield, a frontier settlement, or an Indian council fire. Rather, it took place at a cold negotiating table in Hartford, Connecticut.

It’s ironic that the formal birth of Western New York occurred during a raging snowstorm. The Continue Reading “The Birth Of Western New York: Treaty of Hartford Explained”

The Seneca Between Nations: Western New York After the Treaty of Paris

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Seneca Between NationsThere sat the Seneca between nations. To the west lay the British. To the east stood Americans who could not even agree among themselves who possessed authority over the region.

On paper, Western New York belonged to everyone. Massachusetts had its colonial charter mandate. New York cited both conquest and treaty. Recalcitrant Connecticut clung to its thin claims. Congress may have possessed the authority, but it lacked the means to settle the matter.

These interstate disputes, however, remained largely theoretical. Traders still moved Continue Reading “The Seneca Between Nations: Western New York After the Treaty of Paris”

How Colonial Charters Continued To Haunt The New Republic

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Articles of Confederation via Wikimedia Commons.

The Treaty of Paris may have resolved the conflict between America and Great Britain, but it left unaddressed the conflicts between America’s new states. United in their struggle for independence, they were far less united in determining where one state’s claims ended and another’s began.

King George no longer ruled the former colonies. The legacy of the colonial charters, however, continued to shape the thinking of the individual states. For more than a century, English monarchs had granted overlapping charters across North America, often with only the vaguest understanding of the geography involved. The Treaty of Paris transferred vast stretches of Britain’s former frontier to the United States, but it also revived old questions those charters had never fully answered.

America had overthrown the king. It had not escaped the king’s paperwork.

Nowhere was this more apparent than in Greater Western New York. Although some colonial Continue Reading “How Colonial Charters Continued To Haunt The New Republic”

Why The Treaty Of Paris Left Lingering Questions

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Treaty of Paris

Marinus Willett, ca 1791, by Ralph Earl, CC0, via Wikimedia Commons

Colonel Marinus Willett sloshed through the icy marsh with growing concern. It had been two hours since midnight. They should have seen the fort by now.

Even as the Treaty of Paris was being crafted to end the Revolutionary War, the frigid night of February 9, 1783, gave way to the frozen morning of February 10. On New York’s western frontier, Willett found himself leading one final secret mission for George Washington.

Willett pushed his way to the head of the column. “Where’s the guide?” he asked. The lead soldier shrugged. They had not seen the guide in quite some time and were doing their best to follow his tracks. The soldier pointed forward as the last light of the setting moon shone upon the footprints in the silvery, shadowed snow ahead of them.

With urgent impatience, Willett hurriedly followed the freshly made steps. It took him thirty minutes to catch up to the Oneida scout. The Indian stood like a statue, frozen as the snow around him. He was scared. Worse than that, he was lost.

Washington’s words reverberated in Willett’s head. “You can always waste time, but never recover it… in such an enterprise as yours, want of time will be a certain defeat.”1 The misdirection delayed them. They were late. The element of surprise was gone.

Willett was forced to abort and return to Fort Rensselaer.

*     *     *     *     *

George Washington wanted one last victory before the war officially ended. With the defeat of Cornwallis at Yorktown in October 1781, the British lost any taste for further fighting. In March 1782, Parliament effectively abandoned further offensive operations in America. With the exception of their Indian allies, the year remained relatively quiet.

Yet, there was no formal peace treaty.

Was the war really over?

In Philadelphia, many assumed the clash with King George was coming to an end. Along New York’s murky western frontier, however, such certainty remained elusive.

British regulars may have been quiet in 1782, but that didn’t mean the soldiers weren’t at work. They busied themselves rebuilding Fort Ontario. Abandoned in 1778, early in the Revolutionary War, it was located on the east bank of the mouth of the Oswego River, high above Lake Ontario. Clearly, the British weren’t taking chances. Whatever diplomats might eventually agree upon, military planners on the frontier still prepared for war. At a minimum, they intended to protect their lucrative fur trade.

The possibility of renewed conflict remained. Washington also wished to take no chances. With his army camped in New Windsor, New York, the Continental’s Commander-in-Chief decided upon one final military gamble. His target: Fort Ontario.

The prominent fortress represented Britain’s closest and most formidable stronghold on the frontier. Unlike Fort Niagara, which guarded the Confederacy’s western gateway, Fort Ontario lay deep within the former territory of the Six Nations, just beyond New York’s western-most settlements.

In January 1783, Washington developed a plan to surprise the British and take Fort Ontario. He selected Colonel Marinus Willett to lead the operation. Willett was in command when his troops pursued and killed “the notorious Captain Walter Butler” on October 20, 1781, just ten days after the surrender of Cornwallis.2 So vilified was Butler that it’s been said news of his death brought more cheers in the Mohawk Valley than Washington’s victory at Yorktown.3

Despite the apparent finality of Cornwallis’ defeat, Washington wasn’t going to be lulled into a false sense of security. He presented the Colonel with strict instructions to operate under sealed orders. The fewer who knew the purpose of the mission, the better they could conceal it from the enemy.

Alas, an errant Oneida scout lost his way guiding Willett’s troops to the fort. Forced to forsake the mission, Washington’s hand-picked man returned to Fort Rensselaer and soon learned that American leaders had received Lafayette’s letter reporting a treaty had been agreed to.

Was Lafayette negotiating on America’s behalf? The short answer is “No.” That responsibility fell to Benjamin Franklin, John Adams, John Jay, and Henry Laurens. The longer answer is a bit more complicated. If you thought the competing European claims and the Royal mess surrounding Western New York were complex, ending the Revolutionary War required just as many moving parts.

For peace to become reality, not only did Great Britain and the United States have to agree, but so did France (hence, Lafayette) and Spain.

(Did you notice who was missing from the negotiating table?)

It was the preliminary multinational agreement reached in January 1783 that Lafayette reported to American leaders. The formal Treaty of Paris would be finalized later that year and officially ratified in 1784.

Much to America’s delight, George III agreed to cede all British territory south of the Great Lakes, including lands extending to the Mississippi River. Naturally, this would include Western New York.

On paper.

It’s one thing to draw a map showing boundaries. It’s quite another thing to turn that map into reality. And for the Greater Western New York region, that reality remained as murky as the night of February 9th was to Colonel Willett.

For one thing, the British still occupied their chain of forts within what was now nominally the United States of America. These included both Fort Ontario and Fort Niagara.

This wasn’t an oversight. Article 7 of the Treaty of Paris specifically said “his Britannic Majesty shall with all convenient speed…withdraw… from every Post, Place and Harbour…”4 The wording in the Treaty was clear. Despite this, when asked to comply, General Sir Frederick Haldimand, Governor of the Province of Quebec and Commander-in-Chief of British forces in North America, stated that he was aware of the Treaty but had not yet received orders to evacuate the forts.5

Whether he admitted it or not, Haldimand had several reasons for this delaying tactic. Occupying the forts provided the British with leverage over the Americans.6 It protected British trade interests.7 It helped ameliorate the restless Iroquois who felt betrayed when the British ceded lands they felt were theirs.8 Finally, the British understood the United States was too weak to enforce the Treaty9, so there was little downside in breaching it.

The Treaty changed the maps, but it didn’t change the reality on the ground. The British still held the forts. Their former allies, particularly the Seneca, remained a powerful presence on the frontier. There also remained the question of the precise boundary along the Niagara River.

This reality posed a challenge to the new nation of America. A new nation bound by the fragile Articles of Confederation. The Articles offered little money and little authority. In short, they provided the United States with no practical ability to enforce its frontier claims.

Not that New York State was in any better position. In fact, it was worse.

By the end of the Revolutionary War, most of the other competing colonial claims for this territory had been resolved. Massachusetts, however, continued to rely on the wording of its provincial charter. The Bay State insisted those provisions still conveyed rights in the Greater Western New York region.

The Treaty of Paris may have settled the war between Britain and the United States, but it left too many matters unresolved. For the coastal cities, independence had been indisputably achieved. For the frontier of Western New York, it only created more questions.

And a vast void of authority.

Into that void rushed old claims, forgotten charters, and competing visions of who possessed the right to the frontier. One dispute in particular would shape the future of Western New York forever.

1 Willett, William M., “Washington Letter to Willett, February 2d, 1783,” A Narrative of the Military Actions of Colonel Marinus Willett, G.&C.&H. Carvill, New York, 1831, p.147.
2 Halsey, Francis Whiting, The Old New York Frontier, Charles Scribner’s Sons, New York, 1902, p. 306.
3 David A. Charters, “BUTLER, WALTER,” in Dictionary of Canadian Biography, vol. 4, University of Toronto/Université Laval, 2003–, https://www.biographi.ca/en/bio/butler_walter_4E.html, retrieved June 8, 2026.
4 Article 7, Treaty of Paris (1783), National Archives, https://www.archives.gov/milestone-documents/treaty-of-paris, retrieved June 3, 2026.
5 Collections of the New York Historical Society for the year 1878, Publication Fund Series Vol XI, New York, 1879, p. 193.
6 Broadhead, John Romeyn, Documents Relative to the Colonial History of the State of New York V10, E.B. O’Callaghan, ed, Weed, Parsons & Co., 1858, p. 1004.
7 Sessional Papers Volume 5, Second Session of the Parliament of the Dominion of Canada, A. Senecal, Ottawa, 1888, p. xx.
8 Stone, William L., Life of Joseph Brant – Thayendenegea Including the Border Wars of the American Rev, H.&E. Phinney, Cooperstown, 1838, p. 271.
9 Ibid., p. 263.

Sullivan’s Soldiers Discover The Genesee Valley

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Genesee ValleyToday, we call it the Genesee Valley. To Sullivan’s soldiers, the broad plain surrounding the great Seneca town of Chenussio was the Genesee Flatts, a beautiful vista that remained etched in memory long after the campaign ended. Soon, very soon, to American pioneers scanning maps of the western frontier, the entire region would come to be known simply as the Genesee Country.

Before that, however, there was the Sullivan Expedition. It entered the Genesee Valley as a military campaign. It left behind something far more enduring. More than 4,000 soldiers carried home eyewitness accounts of a fertile country few Americans had ever seen.

Shortly after noon on Tuesday, September 14th, 1779, Lieutenant Erkuries Beatty and his fellow soldiers had finished destroying a “great abundance” of corn and beans.1 He—and the men with him—were about to behold a sight unlike anything they had seen before. For a Continue Reading “Sullivan’s Soldiers Discover The Genesee Valley”

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