Midnight Ride, Industrial Dawn

by Robert Martello

  These generalized definitions do not adequately explain the confusing, changing, heterogeneous conditions that characterized the first fifty years of the new republic. We must not understate the longevity and importance of America’s twilight interlude between crafts and industry: neither Revere nor many of his contemporaries comfortably fit either model, and all the forces of historical hindsight cannot decisively cleave one of these systems from another. Some colonial-era craft shops had already adopted many “industrial” characteristics, such as the use of wage labor, the division of labor, subcontracting, and the move toward standardized output. And early industrial endeavors retained many traditional practices, including the employment of skilled laborers, paternalistic managerial practices, and the continued reliance upon barter transactions. While craft practices gradually became more industrial, this evolution took place at different rates in different regions and trades, and the conversion often involved harsh upheavals or throwbacks to earlier ways. Indeed, elements of craft production still exist today.

  Instead of attempting to demarcate beginning and endings for craft or industrial practices we must instead define the characteristics of a transitional, proto-industrial state that combines earlier and later methods in the same way that individuals such as Revere combined these practices in their workshops. America’s industrialization depended upon the confluence of capitalized corporations and family-run small shops, hand tools and machines, workers who played multiple roles as the needs arose, and so on. Early manufacturing establishments defy attempts at generalization, and the capitalist investors, businessmen, mechanics, and wage laborers of the nineteenth century founded an array of shops and manufactories with dissimilar goals and methods.5 As a result, America’s industrial development cannot be easily encapsulated in a simple theory or defined by a small number of causes and effects. Economic historians in the 1970s created a proto-industrial theory that attempted to explain the development of European manufacturing and economic systems: this theory said that rural household manufacturing, often concentrated in workshops under the direction of merchants, paved the way for factory expansion by creating large quantities of investment capital and a non-landholding laborer class.6 This theory came under attack because it fails to accurately explain why certain regions industrialized while others did not, and it also understates the importance of urban workshops and guilds.7 Nearly all experts have abandoned this early theory, but proto-industry deserves to live again in a broader form that describes the fluid combination of old and new methods that fostered American industrial growth, with a particular emphasis upon how the tradeoffs between these methods shaped entrepreneurial decision making.

  Paul Revere’s story suggests a new version of proto-industry more applicable to America. Rather than showcasing the impact of the larger agricultural setting, we learn more about proto-industrial practices and attitudes by focusing upon the early manufacturing community and everyone affected by it: artisans and their apprentices, journeymen and other wage laborers, investors ranging from merchants to farsighted government officials, harvesters and processors of raw materials, shopkeepers and other retailers, the customers comprising the market for the growing torrent of goods, and, of course, entrepreneurs like Revere who attempted to weave all of these constituencies into harmonious and productive enterprises. We can best describe America’s proto-industrial period by dividing these transitional changes into the four essential components of industrial success: capital, labor, technology, and environmental resources.8 Contemporary manufacturers might not use these terms to describe their practices, but they would recognize the connections between these four factors of production, since those connections occupied much of their attention. For example, Revere did not think about environmental resources without considering practical issues such as the trade networks that brought him these materials or the technologies he used to manipulate them. His frustrating efforts to raise investment capital took place in the context of the many pressing needs for that capital, for machinery, raw materials, and the wages of his workforce. When Revere or his contemporaries attempted to change the way they managed one of these factors it tugged at all of the others, and the evolving combination of old and new strategies employed by increasing numbers of entrepreneurial manufacturers broadly defines the nation’s proto-industrial pathway. The challenges posed by limited quantities of investment capital, labor, technology, and environmental resources determined whether Revere succeeded or failed, and shaped all his technical and managerial decision making. The combination of capital, labor, technology, and environmental practices at a given time becomes a useful benchmark of America’s industrial evolution.

  Paul Revere’s lifetime of technical and managerial enterprise made him a midnight rider once again: emerging from the sunset of the craft system, his example and efforts heralded the dawn of industrialism. Over his long life, Paul Revere trained as an apprentice, achieved some fame as a skilled artisan, and began a manufacturing career that resulted in his ownership of a mill complex employing a dozen or more workers. He lived and excelled in the proto-industrial world, and altered his own status and methods while observing the changes occurring around him. His career trajectory raises several questions. Why did Revere choose to abandon his craft roots? At the heart of this question lies Revere’s value system, his estimation of the costs and benefits of different occupations and the goals he wished to achieve by the end of his life. Many of his choices resulted from his assessment of Revolutionary-era social status, and the relatively small degree of social or political influence accorded to citizens seen as laborers, including skilled craftsmen. He strove to improve his position in the fluid social and economic hierarchy by leaving his craft roots behind and ascending into the gentry class, but political views also played a significant role in his career choices as he continually sought to further his country’s development. One of the novel facets of post-Revolutionary culture was the remarkable overlap between private self-interest and public service. We must also ask about his methods: which craft elements did Revere retain, and which industrial elements did he adopt? Particularly at the end of his career, Revere had evolved a creative combination of old and new practices that enabled him to maintain a high degree of productivity and quality while avoiding excessively risky or controversial alterations to long-accepted work methods. A third question shifts from intentions to execution: how did Revere successfully switch from craft to industry when many others failed to make the transition? A broad look at Revere’s entire career turns up certain patterns and practices that time and again allowed him to thrive at each individual endeavor. In particular, the startup process he followed each time he initiated a new product line or facility illustrates the combination of intentional preparation, composite experience, and innate talent that enabled him to expand his production. His experience and skills also emphasize the growing distinction between managerial and technical aptitude, both of which proved vital for success.

  Paul Revere’s manufacturing journey was at least as meaningful as his actions in 1775. His Revolutionary ride became the stuff of legend, but his metallurgical ride created a legacy not only for his family and business, but for his community and nation, basking in the first rays of the impending industrial dawn. We only begin to understand the real Revere by studying his work and his writings, encapsulating the context and goals of an entire life and career. Revere’s accomplishments might have drawn more attention over the years if he fit the classical idealized mold of an inventor, but in lieu of that single label he took on a variety of identities: patriarch, manufacturer, entrepreneur, manager, borrower, networker, researcher, optimizer, disseminator. Versatile complexity makes him an authentic representative of a generation of aging Revolutionaries who all attempted to understand and channel the vast societal changes they unleashed during the age of American proto-industry.

  But we have gotten ahead of ourselves. Before he took on these identities or dreamed of the industrial changes h
e helped inaugurate, Revere was a silversmith, proudly carrying on his father’s trade and upholding longstanding artisan traditions. In spite of all his later accomplishments, most twenty-first-century Americans will always picture Paul Revere as John Singleton Copley chose to capture him on canvas, the only colonial American artisan ever immortalized in the middle of the creative act. The year is 1768, and we find him at his workbench, pensively pondering a teapot in need of engraving.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Artisan, Silversmith, and Businessman (1754–1775)

  The year is 1768 and the place is the living room of Paul Revere’s comfortable house in the North End neighborhood of Boston. After weeks of anticipation, Paul excitedly gathered his family for the great unveiling. It all started a few months earlier when John Singleton Copley, a reputable local painter and professional acquaintance, made Revere an irresistible offer. Seeking the services of a masterful silversmith, Copley ordered several silver frames and gold cases from Revere and amassed a moderate debt. In accordance with the barter economy that governed many colonial transactions, Copley proposed to paint Revere’s portrait if Revere cancelled his debt. Revere knew an incredible deal when he heard one: portraits adorned the houses of the well-to-do and typically depicted the calling and reputation of the upper-class subject. Merchants posed in front of dockside windows that showcased their sailing ships; generals wore gilded swords at the scenes of famous battles; and statesmen gestured at scrolls or held books. Silversmith subjects, however, were unheard of. Revere accepted the offer and posed for Copley in his silversmith shop. At last the artist completed his work.

  Surviving records do not capture how Revere’s family responded to this painting. Fortunately, anecdotes recounted by Revere’s modern-day descendents tell us that Revere’s wife and children looked upon the painting . . . and hated what they saw.

  Figure 1.1. John Singleton Copley (1738–1815), oil on canvas portrait, Paul Revere, 1768. Gift of Joseph W. Revere, William B. Revere, and Edward H. R. Revere. Photograph © 2010 Museum of Fine Arts, Boston (image number 30.781). Unique in early American portraiture, this image captures Paul Revere in the act of creation, highlighting and celebrating his artisan status.

  In this portrait, which now hangs in a place of honor in Boston’s Museum of Fine Arts, Revere sits at a polished wooden table, his white shirt in sharp contrast with the dark background. His right hand supports his head, which thoughtfully and directly meets the gaze of the viewer, while his left hand holds a polished silver teapot that lacks engraving but is otherwise complete. As with Copley’s other surviving works, the execution is dazzling, ahead of its time. The tilt of Revere’s head and penetrating clarity in his eyes shatters the boundary between subject and audience. His teapot is flawless and shining; his hands strong and graceful. This invaluable painting is one of the few—and certainly the finest—surviving illustration of colonial artisans at work, representing the pinnacle of Copley’s talents. Any reception short of praise seems absurd. That is, absurd to us.

  The family of a late eighteenth-century artisan would view the portrait differently. Its magnificent accuracy, its accurate and uncanny encapsulation of Revere’s identity, led to its downfall in their estimation. Unlike the gentry and statesmen in Copley’s other portraits, Revere is not garbed in elegant clothing. Instead, he wears the clean and functional dark leather vest of a workman, and his white shirt is unbuttoned. His sleeve has fallen slightly, revealing some of his forearm and wrist, and traces of dirt are visible under his fingernails. The presence of engraving tools on the tabletop leaves no doubt that this man works for a living, frozen by the artist in the middle of his work procedure. Revere’s family loved its patriarch, a respected silversmith whose versatility, artistic skill, entrepreneurial insight, and network of patrons and colleagues facilitated his financial security and rising social status. His family knew he stood at the top of the craftsman hierarchy as a prince of skilled laborers, the biggest fish in the working-class pond. But we might forgive them their disappointment at seeing the family patriarch so truthfully reflected in his portrait. All of Revere’s financial success, technical and entrepreneurial skill, and artistic reputation could not change his artisan status. Changes, for both Revere and the world he lived in, would have to wait a few years.1

  The Revolutionary War divides Paul Revere’s long silverworking career almost exactly in half: he first entered the field as an apprentice around 1748 and ceased working on silver items in the late 1790s. A detailed study of the nature of Revere’s work before and after the Revolution offers a vivid illustration of the changes that took place in the American workplace following this incredible political, economic, and cultural upheaval. Revere’s writings, activities, and body of work highlight his changing methods and goals, which had their origins in much earlier times, in European craft traditions that defined the education, practices, and social status of artisans. Early colonists carried their traditions to colonial America but many of the details failed to take root in the cultural climate of the New World. As a result, a different system evolved, and continued changing throughout the colonial period. Some of the elements of industrial capitalism already existed by the time Revere entered the silverworking field, and others soon developed. Revere was a trendsetter and entrepreneurial artisan, and his life offers an ideal window into this transitional world, beginning in the colonial days of his youth.

  In order to understand the meaning behind Revere’s pre-Revolutionary career, we must first unravel the threads that comprise his personal and professional identity, explaining how he categorized himself and which traditions, both explicit and tacit, shaped his skills, beliefs, and aspirations. In order to simplify the complexity of human identity, we can focus our analysis upon three major elements of Revere’s background.

  First, Revere was a Bostonian, a citizen of the British Empire raised in one of the three largest cities in colonial America. As such, he enjoyed constant exposure to people, goods, and ideas circulating around the Atlantic seaboard: he regularly encountered merchants, tradesmen, artisans, and working men; material goods produced by local manufacturers as well as overseas imports; and church doctrine, political polemics, scientific ideas, and a bewildering buffet of personal viewpoints. Early America resists generalization or simplification: the majority of farmers engaged in market activity and entrepreneurial pursuits, and urban workers combined old European conventions with newer ideas formed as responses to the colonial American setting. To appreciate the relevance of Revere’s career one must understand this societal and cultural context—the rich and turbulent world of colonial Boston. Even as a child, Paul Revere became accustomed to a certain style of conducting business and dealing with his peers: he learned the similarities and differences between various social groups, where he fit into the picture, and where he wanted to fit in.

  Second, Revere was an artisan. Artisans are the makers of goods, craftsmen who produce the many items that societies and individuals need on a daily basis. But in addition to their important practical role as society’s producers, artisans are also the keepers of tradition, beneficiaries of a long and proud heritage stretching across hundreds of years and various European nations. Revere’s identity as an artisan linked him with numerous colleagues who shared common experiences, such as an apprenticeship education, working-class lifestyles and work patterns, and a middle-class position in their social networks. Even as Revere and his colleagues perpetuated these attitudes and practices, various factors would soon overturn traditional artisan roles and expectations forever.

  Third, Revere was a silversmith, proficient in creating and repairing silver and gold objects.2 The most successful silversmiths occupied the top of the informal artisan hierarchy, earning prestige from the trade’s relatively high capital costs and skill requirements. Revere’s silverworking career illustrates the importance of his technical skill and judgment, best characterized by the incredible versatility that distinguished him from most of his peers and set the st
age for a lifetime of experimentation and boundary crossing. But his silverworking endeavors also depended upon his business acumen, managerial proficiency, and ability to form and exploit social networks. Revere’s prewar silver activities laid the foundation for a lifetime of creative entrepreneurial activity.

  Copley layered some of these influences and perspectives throughout his masterful portrait. The man looking out from the canvas is many things, and his hands clue us into the two most important aspects of the image. One hand holds his head, framing a thoughtful, intelligent, confident, and focused subject. The other hand holds a beautiful object, a flawless, shining teapot about to receive an engraved touch that will make it truly unique. And Revere’s hand is reflected in his work, reminding us that the hand of the maker is visible in all of his creations. Regardless of how his family might have reacted to this painting, Revere could not have been too surprised; after all, he posed for it. His work for Copley bestowed a rare honor upon him, the ability to be immortalized in canvas in spite of the fact that he claimed neither wealth nor social prestige. Even if “only” a silversmith, he knew he was a competent manager and skilled craftsman, and in eighteenth-century Boston this was certainly a good thing to be.