Jasper Parrish And The Terror At Civilization’s Edge

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Jasper Parrish

Massacre of Wyoming (Pennsylvania), 1858, by Alonzo Chappel, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons

Captain Zebulon Parish saw the man hurry out of the dense woods into the field. The smell of burning wood wafted through the air around him. In the distance, black smoke rose above the treetops. He thought he heard muffled screams, but it might have been the wind whipping through the forest.

His eyebrow furled as the curious settlers assembled. He was the captain. They looked to him for guidance.

Zebulon recognized the man. It was Lebbeus Hammond.1 He didn’t look too good. Out of breath, he huffed and puffed, “We’ve been attacked!”

This is bad, was Zebulon’s immediate conclusion.

His mind raced. They’re probably coming for us next. How long do we have? And should we prepare for defense or run? Continue Reading “Jasper Parrish And The Terror At Civilization’s Edge”

Thomas Boyd And The Brutality Of The Western Frontier

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Thomas Boyd

The monument at the site of the Boyd and Parker ambush. The monument reads: “Sacred To The Memory of Lieut. Thomas Boyd and Sergt. Michael Parker Who were captured and afterward tortured and killed. Afar their bones may lie/but here their patriot blood/baptized the land for aye/and wideened freedom’s flood”
Photo credit: Ed Dehm, CC BY-SA 3.0 httpcreativecommons.orglicensesby-sa3.0, via Wikimedia Commons

In the darkness of September 1779, Thomas Boyd heard the muffled squeal of death.

Murphy, he thought. Can’t that man follow orders?

Boyd—an officer barely into his twenties—missed the fatal irony of his question.

But he did sense his mission was compromised. Boyd had orders to scout the British forces, not to engage them. Timothy Murphy’s shot must have echoed through the woods, alerting the Seneca. Worse, the others got away. No doubt the Indian would quickly warn his brothers. The encounter yielded one scalp, a horse saddle, and a bridle.1 It seemed hardly worth the risk Sullivan’s men now faced.

The scouts needed to get out. And they needed to get out quickly. More importantly, Boyd needed to get word back to the General sooner. He dispatched two runners to ride ahead. They returned to report discovering a handful of Seneca on horseback up ahead.2

The young lieutenant remained confident that he would meet up with the main army soon enough. He rode on with his troops. They had not gotten far before they came upon Continue Reading “Thomas Boyd And The Brutality Of The Western Frontier”

William French and the Westminster Massacre

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Westminster MassacreOn a late Winter morning in 1775, William French woke up for the last time. The lively 22-year-old lived in the Town of Bennington—itself scarcely older than he was.

Self-named by Benning Wentworth, Governor of New Hampshire, Bennington became—in 1741—the first township granted west of the Connecticut River. It was a fact that would soon matter far more than anyone expected.

French headed to Westminster, a small hamlet on the west side of the Connecticut River, nestled in the broad curve of the oxbowing waterway, in the fertile eastern valley beneath the Green Mountains.

That afternoon, French walked along King’s Highway to the farmhouse of Capt. Axariah Wright, an eccentric old patriot. There he met Daniel Houghton and nearly 100 other men. They were there to confront a problem they believed could no longer be avoided.Continue Reading “William French and the Westminster Massacre”

America’s Forgotten First Frontier

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America’s forgotten first frontierBefore America looked west, it looked here.

Before the wild wilderness of Alaska, before the trans-Mississippi west, even before the Appalachian forests and the Cumberland Gap, the Greater Western New York region stood as America’s First Frontier. It was a rugged place where individuals could test the fruits of its promise—and sometimes discover its limits.

But it was tamed.
Quickly tamed.
Too quick for history books to notice.

And so, it slipped quietly out of the national memory.

Until a sportscaster unintentionally reframed its true origin story.

When Chris Berman proclaimed, “Nobody circles the wagons like the Buffalo Bills,” he wasn’t merely referring to a professional football team. He was describing a people. Perhaps without realizing it, he was echoing the rich experience of the region’s earliest pioneers—men and women who braved brutal winters to build permanent homes in the post-Revolutionary War virgin arboreal woodlands and lush valleys of the Greater Western New York Region.

Far beyond the settled coastal cities of the Atlantic, this was the first true frontier of the new nation. Unlike what would later become Kentucky and Ohio, it lay within an original state rather than a federal territory. That distinction mattered more than history remembers.

Europeans called Western New York “terra incognita” during the colonial era. It was, however, home to the Seneca and Cayuga, two member nations of the Iroquois Confederacy. The French were the first Europeans to pass through. Their explorers camped here. Their missionaries converted here. Their soldiers fought and built forts here.

But they didn’t settle here.

That omission was not accidental. Western New York was too valuable to ignore—and too dangerous to control without alliances.

It became a critical artery in the economy of New France, later brokered by the Dutch, and ultimately claimed by the British. That final transfer was secured not by force alone, but through alliance with the Six Nations of the Iroquois Confederacy.

The Seneca served as “Keepers of the Western Door.” Ostensibly defensive, that door became a gateway to expansion. During the Beaver Wars, the Confederacy used it to eliminate the Erie tribe and to push its Algonquin adversaries off the map. This left the lands west of the Genesee River wholly vacated a century before the Revolutionary War.

The consequences were profound. French trappers lost their allies. British traders gained control of the valuable fur routes along the fertile waters that flow through western New York and beyond. And America’s First Frontier became one of the earliest battlegrounds for European supremacy in upper North America.

The Western New York region has always been a strategic crossroads.

Long before French missionaries first set foot in the New World, the feud between the Confederacy and its Iroquoian and Algonquin neighbors had been ongoing. The arrival of the Europeans didn’t change the dynamic. It intensified it.

At one time or another, all four Old World powers laid claim to the region. Ambitious Spanish claims, the French fur trade, the Netherlands river-based financial colonies, and the British desire for Empire, all collided here (and elsewhere).

Spain’s claim existed only on paper. They never came close. The Dutch, on the other hand, made the unfortunate decision to choose the Erie as their partners. When the Cat Nation disappeared, New Netherlands shortly followed, mostly without a fight. Mostly.

The French and the British, however, did what the French and the British always did. They went to war. Whether you call it “The French and Indian War” (as North Americans do) or the “Seven Years’ War” (as Europeans do), its outcome determined the fate of American colonies.

Decades later, before Horace Greeley championed Manifest Destiny when his New York Tribune pronounced, “Go West, young man,” New Englanders loaded up their wagons and headed down the ancient Central Trail of the Iroquois Confederacy. They looked past Geneva, at that time, the westernmost settlement in New York State (which itself became a point of controversy).

The Greater Western New York Region promised opportunity and risk in equal measure. It became the proving ground for a new nation’s first attempts to settle undeveloped land.

But it was more than that.

As George Washington quickly learned, America’s first frontier wasn’t just about the pioneers; in true mythic form, this west also posed diplomatic challenges regarding the conquered peoples who had previously claimed the land. The dance between state and federal power in the infant United States proved precarious. Fortunately, Washington’s wisdom and restraint helped protect both the State of New York and the Seneca Nation.

Still, uncertainty lingered.

Though technically part of New York State, the western portion of this original colony lacked clearly defined boundaries. Not until the War of 1812 would the dispute of the “Mile Strip” on the Niagara River be resolved.

Before then, however, the future of the Greater Western New York Region was cloudy at best. It stood on the cusp of history, on the edge of possibility.

Would that history be British, as part of Upper Canada?
Would it remain tethered to America and New York State?
Or would it become an independent state, following Vermont’s example?

Indeed, within a decade of the Paris Treaty that ended the Revolutionary War, no fewer than three attempts were made to separate Greater Western New York from New York State. What was the motivation for this? Why did they fail? How did state and local leaders respond? And what does that response reveal about the fragile architecture of the early republic?

Those unanswered questions are not historical curiosities.

They are the central mystery of our own backyard.

As we celebrate America’s 250th, perhaps now is a good time to rediscover a chapter of our past that unfolded quietly, quickly, and almost invisibly.

After all, history is not what survives in a bland textbook. It is more alive than that. More contingent. More human. And to the attentive ear, the all-seeing eye, and the genuinely curious, it often reveals far more than we were ever taught to notice.

A history too often skipped in classrooms.
A history unfamiliar to many elected officials.
A history even seasoned historians sometimes overlook.

It’s the history of America’s forgotten first frontier.

And it leads, inevitably, to one enduring question that can finally be revealed to you:

Why did Vermont become a state—
but Greater Western New York did not?

To understand why that question was ever asked—and why it was never answered—we must return to the moments when authority was uncertain, allegiance was fluid, and the future of this frontier was still undecided.

Interested? Have you joined the 1786 Project yet? Go to http://1786project.com/ to access cool stuff about the history of the Greater Western New York Region! (And find out how to participate in the hidden treasure hunt!)

Eerie Echoes Today of Daniel Shays, the Forgotten Patriot Who Sparked the Constitution

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Daniel ShaysDid you know that we have a heroic Revolutionary War veteran buried right here in our own backyard? Well, not precisely our backyard, but close enough to call it that.

His heroism, however, isn’t limited to fighting against the British. He took the ideals espoused by the Founding Fathers to heart. So much so that he felt it was his duty to promote those ideals at great personal sacrifice. In fact, the reason he died in Livingston County is that he was chased out of Massachusetts. He knew his family would be safe here in America’s First Frontier.

Without Daniel Shays, America might not have its Constitution. The story behind his plight so worried George Washington that America’s future first president came out of retirement and agreed to preside over the Constitutional Convention.

What follows is an excerpt from a chapter in my book, 50 Hidden Gems of Greater Western New York (Pandamensional Solutions, 2012), that reveals the true story behind this Revolutionary War veteran. It may have happened more than two centuries ago, but as you read the events, don’t be surprised if it seems this could happen (and maybe has happened) even today…Continue Reading “Eerie Echoes Today of Daniel Shays, the Forgotten Patriot Who Sparked the Constitution”

The Red Jacket Medal Mystery: Lost. Found? Still Unsolved.

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Red Jacket

Red Jacket, lithograph by Corbould from 1835 painting by C.B. King, printed by C. Hallmandel, via Wikipedia Commons

“Against Red Jacket Club,” blared the 1910 headline.1 Marking the beginning of the end, it referred to the exclusive Canandaigua social club that defined elite prestige in grand, well-appointed fashion for two decades. Everyone who was anyone sought an invitation to its annual party, which the group limited to 100 guests.

By 1910, its days were numbered. Unlike the earlier move to disband in 1908, this would be the final nail in the organization that had formed in 1888. The financial burden of operating with dwindling membership and maintaining the nearly century-old Federal-style mansion on the corner of Main and Gorham proved to be too heavy.2 Trustees representing the bondholders had no choice but to sell everything.

“All of the personal property of the famous Red Jacket Club, once the ‘swell’ organization of this village, was sold at auction… the club possesses among its relics a silver medal presented by President George Washington to the famous Indian chief, Red Jacket…”3

But the story of that shiny token goes back much further, well before the Club first laid eyes Continue Reading “The Red Jacket Medal Mystery: Lost. Found? Still Unsolved.”

Liberty Or Death: Which Would You Choose? (And Why?)

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When did you last hear a barn burner speech like this? Today, public speakers too often succumb to the lure of guilt into helping others. 250 years ago, they inspired a passion to better ourselves first—because you can’t save anyone if you’re sinking.

The crowd bustles in St. John’s Church. No scheduled sermon today, though, but they would soon get one. It’s Thursday, March 23, 1775, day four of the Second Virginia Convention in Richmond, Virginia. The air wafts thick with rebellion. Tensions between Great Britain and its American colonies could not have been higher.

Just ten days back, on March 13, British authorities under New York’s Cadwallader Colden, Continue Reading “Liberty Or Death: Which Would You Choose? (And Why?)”

Save The Barns: Why RG&E’s Upgrade On Canfield Road Shouldn’t Undermine Mendon’s Rural Heritage

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In the last few years, I’ve perused old texts covering the Town of Mendon. I find the words useful for research. The pictures, however, captivate me. They allow me to effortlessly go back in time and immerse myself in the bucolic beauty of the town I call home. It’s like a time machine. Diving into those pictures gives me the feeling of tranquil bliss.

I didn’t know about these historic books thirty-odd years ago when I served on the Mendon Town Board. No doubt others, wiser than me, did. Despite my naivete, I played a role (albeit a minor one) in realizing a modern-day homage to those pleasant nineteenth century illustrations.

And you can experience the fruits of that realization every time you drive down Route 64 from Pittsford into the Town of Mendon. Just north of the Thruway bridge, look to the west on Canfield Road. You’ll see a peaceful array of agricultural buildings straight out of the late 1800s. As you pass it, if you think about it at all, you think, “That’s so… appropriate.”

Now, imagine that same spot occupied by an industrial eyesore of steel pipes and smokestacks oozing white clouds. Very shortly, if RG&E gets its way, that’s what you’ll see. As part of its upgrade project, the energy company hopes to strip away forever the barn façade and reveal the hulking gas transfer station concealed within it.Continue Reading “Save The Barns: Why RG&E’s Upgrade On Canfield Road Shouldn’t Undermine Mendon’s Rural Heritage”

I’ve Seen My Lifetime Disintegrate Before My Eyes

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I’ve seen my lifetime disintegrate before my eyes.

Do you have a recurring dream that you just can’t understand? No, I’m not talking about the one where you realize the final exam is today and you haven’t cracked open the textbook. Nor am I talking about the one where the giant ape is slowly chasing you, but try as you might, you just can’t run.

Those are typical anxiety dreams. They have nothing to do with final exams or giant apes. They’re more likely related to something in your daily life (usually work or some other stress-inducing environment).

Here’s the kind of dream I’m talking about: it involves a familiar landscape, maybe current, maybe from your past. It’s “familiar” in the sense that it evokes the real thing except it’sContinue Reading “I’ve Seen My Lifetime Disintegrate Before My Eyes”

Lafayette’s Farewell Tour: Through Seneca Falls, East Cayuga Then A Masonic Welcome And A Final Adieu In Auburn

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Previous: Bigotry Cannot Defeat A Good And Honorable Man

In Auburn, Lafayette met at “Hudson’s Hotel” a.k.a. Western Exchange Hotel Genesee St. Image circa 1840. From the collection of the Cayuga Museum of History and Art, Auburn, NY

As early as May 12th, 1825, the Village of Auburn expected Lafayette to travel through their growing community. Seventeen men, including two future governors of New York State were appointed to a committee charged with the purpose of preparing for the visit of the French general and American hero. They were “to make suitable arrangements for the occasion; and that they be requested to communicate the doings of this meeting, to the proper military officers, the masonick order, and the surviving revolutionary officers and soldiers, inviting them to co-operate with the citizens of the village, in the proposed expressions of publick attention, to the venerable ‘Guest of our Nation,’ and its early defender.”1

A few days later, on May 16th, the officers of the militia met at Strong’s tavern. Led by Brigadier General Henry R. Brinkerhoff, they, too, formed a committee to prepare for Continue Reading “Lafayette’s Farewell Tour: Through Seneca Falls, East Cayuga Then A Masonic Welcome And A Final Adieu In Auburn”

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