Revere’s employee interactions reveal a mixture of old and new labor practices. It is impossible in many cases to determine whether someone served as an apprentice, a journeyman receiving a wage, or a worker in a different shop performing subcontracting work—in fact, it seems likely that these rigid titles started to lose their meaning by this point. By the end of the eighteenth century, Revere’s silver shop still featured apprentices and journeymen trained in the artisan fashion, working at their own pace on a variety of tasks. However, the expansion of his labor force and addition of a rolling mill helped him increase his productivity and division of labor, moving him ever closer to standardization and mass production. This hybrid mixture of craft and what would later be called industrial goals and methods places Revere’s shop, even at this early point, into the transitional category of proto-industry. He freely combined the most promising of the new methods with the most reliable of the old ones, and thereby improved his operations without creating a large upheaval for himself or his workers.46
Revere’s willingness to add new techniques to his artisanal operations may have placed him near the leading edge of late eighteenth-century business practices, but the rest of his countrymen followed closely behind. Many factors collectively undermined the artisan’s traditional socioeconomic position, and the proximity of these changes to the Revolution is not coincidental. The Revolution created new practical and ideological opportunities for nearly all members of society that helped unveil the age of capitalism. Old-fashioned concepts such as “sacrifice for the greater good” and “remain within your preordained societal role” changed under the influence of liberal republican ideology, which posited merit and not birthright as the determinant of rank in the new nation. Individual citizens now believed they had the right to act in their own commercial interests without social restrictions, and those who succeeded could then use their wealth and corresponding prestige to acquire a public office and help their country as well. The new wartime and post-wartime market opportunities furthered these beliefs by rewarding some of the most prominent speculators and risk takers, such as Paul Revere. Or so he hoped.47
Following the crippling recession that doomed Revere’s attempts to thrive as a merchant, major economic improvements took place in the late 1780s thanks to the successful ratification of the Constitution and subsequent establishment of a stronger national government. The improving economy depended in no small part upon Secretary of the Treasury Alexander Hamilton’s brilliant fiscal policies. The federal government’s power to tax, exclusive control over the right to produce coinage or currency, and firm stance in favor of the full repayment of all debts helped to restore domestic and international confidence, stabilize inflation, increase the money supply, and produce a firm economic basis for development and growth.48
In spite of the solidification of America’s new economy, many aspects of the new society impaired the craft tradition. For example, apprenticeships no longer represented the only way to learn production methods and technologies because innovation also resided in machine shops, technical manuals, and eventually in factories. The prominence of cash wages made apprenticeships appear less rewarding to young men who wondered why they had to spend up to seven years working for free when one could earn wages while learning on the job. As a result, the apprentice tradition changed, coming into closer alignment with the more market-based society that had already taken root. Ideals of individual enterprise and the universal drive to increase one’s capital gradually edged out the former paternalistic family-oriented mutuality of craft shops. Masters no longer considered apprentices and journeymen extended members of the family or household, treating them instead as business associates who received cash wages for their services.
America’s changing economic, social, and political institutions fostered the beginning of labor movements. Apprentices and journeymen who previously categorized themselves “vertically” according to their crafts now began to organize “horizontally” alongside other apprentices or journeymen in different trades. Early journeyman organizations usually formed to protest short-term problems such as declining wages, and disbanded when the aggravation faded. Disputes between masters and journeymen were also disputes between current and future masters, and both sides shared common ground in the awareness that they would one day be colleagues. As capitalist practices directed attention from traditions onto profit maximization, this solidarity diminished and labor unrest grew. Master craftsmen also struggled under the new social and economic conditions. Large numbers of craftsmen became wage laborers, others continued operating their small shops despite the erosion of craft traditions, and an elite few made the transition to the world of manufacturing and business ownership. The fate of master craftsmen in this new regime depended on many factors, including access to capital, managerial skill, and the ability to master new machines and technical processes. The decrease of paternal, family-oriented businesses and the widespread availability of currency also affected relationships between shop owners and their customers. Old-fashioned networks of trade exchange, barter, and personal credit gave way to modern commerce when shop owners eventually asked customers to settle transactions with cash at the time of purchase.49
In response to this growing fragmentation of master artisans, many cities experienced a proliferation of craft-oriented libraries and mechanics’ associations attempting to advocate for common interests. These groups soon reflected the changes to craft institutions. The Boston Mechanic Association, later renamed the Massachusetts Charitable Mechanic Association, immediately became one of the most prominent artisan groups. In 1794 the mechanics of Boston petitioned the Massachusetts legislature to charter a corporation to license apprentices and prevent masters from hiring runaway apprentices. The merchant interests feared that this measure could increase labor costs and lobbied to defeat it in the legislature. The petitioners organized themselves into the Boston Mechanic Association, a voluntary organization with coercive powers. The eighty-two founding members, representing a wide cross section of master artisans and shop proprietors, unanimously elected Paul Revere their first president in 1795, illustrating his reputation among this segment of Boston’s population.50 The association’s official annals (published in 1892) recount an engaging anecdotal version of the story of the association’s founding, emphasizing Revere’s reputation and temperament:
Trouble growing out of the apprenticeship system was the incipient cause of the movement. The boys would not abide by their indentures, and unprincipled competitors in business seduced them from their allegiance by promises of larger pay and better service. So great was the evil for the then small town, that Col. Henry Purkitt (the maternal grandfather of our much respected fellow-citizen, Henry P Kidder, the generous banker) inserted in the “Columbian Centinel” a notice for the first meeting to consult on the subject. It is a part of the traditions of the times that when Paul Revere saw this notice, much to his surprise, he hurried up town from his North- End residence to inquire of the printer who had dared to take upon himself the responsibility of calling a meeting of the mechanics of the town without first conferring with him! In truth, the gallant colonel had, from the days of the tea episode and the ride to Lexington, been recognized as the foremost man, par excellence, of the mechanics of Boston. Colonel Purkitt did not hesitate to acknowledge his action, and to suggest that it was arranged that he (Colonel Revere) should preside at the meeting which was called. This information had a soothing influence upon Colonel Revere, though it was really intended Edward Tuckerman, a South-End baker, a man of great intelligence and public spirit, should be the first president of the association; indeed, he was nominated for the office, but he respected the generous feeling in the community towards Revere, and said he did not care to take the office of president. So Revere was chosen the first officer without opposition, and Mr. Tuckerman became vice-president,—both serving four years, and both retiring from their positions at the same time.51
Although the as
sociation initially intended to serve as a quasi-guild to regulate apprenticeships, it had trouble collecting its relatively high dues (a one-time registration charge of $2.50 and quarterly fees of 25 cents, both of which soon doubled) and enforcing its requirements. Massachusetts eventually granted the association an act of incorporation and passed a law to regulate apprenticeships in 1805, but by this time the age of artisan traditions in most trades had drawn to a close. Apprentices had largely become paid employees and master craftsmen had bigger problems to worry about than their continued loyalty. The Charitable Mechanics Association expanded its mission statement to include goals such as “the diffusion of benevolence” (realized via a $40 one-time payment to the families of deceased members, and other payments to members in dire financial need) and “the encouragement of improvements in the mechanic arts and manufactures.” Its roster eventually filled with well-educated pro-manufacturing businessmen.52
The evolution of the Charitable Mechanics Society in many ways mirrors the development of its first president, because Revere aspired to more than craftsmanship. During his silver years his abilities and goals never seemed to converge. Ironically, the very practices that enabled him to succeed at innumerable technical and entrepreneurial challenges had barred him from the colonial gentry by tarring him with the stigma of manual labor. Even after societal expectations shifted toward the appreciation of diligent employment, Revere’s standards and goals remained unchanged. He wanted to become a gentleman, to have influence, and to serve society in a meaningful manner. While he initially used silverworking as a way of temporarily financing his mercantile ambitions, by the late 1780s silverworking became his principal route to financial success and he worked hard to improve his shop’s income and prestige through practices such as mechanized silver rolling, dividing labor, standardizing his product line, and changing his own role from artisan to manager and owner. Although he failed to redefine his societal position, the recipe for his eventual triumph originated in this early period. The answer lay in changing the rules: instead of using manufacturing as the means for generating income that might lead to societal service and prestige, it had to become an end in itself.
CHAPTER FOUR
To Run a “Furnass”
The Iron Years (1788–1792)
November 3, 1788, was a good day for Paul Revere. In a letter to “Messrs. Brown and Benson,” the proprietors of the Rhode Island Hope furnace, he announced, “We have got our furnass a going & find that it answers our expectation & have no doubt the business will do exceedingly well in the Town of Boston.”1 This furnace represented the culmination of years of research and experimentation, but also marked a bold departure from the preexisting patterns of his life. The daily routines of his profitable artisan trade, expensive and artistic silver items, merchants who sold him small packages of silver bars, engraving tools and curved hammers and leather aprons that collected every stray speck of silver dust . . . all of this now passed to the capable hands of Paul Jr. Revere’s world would soon revolve around a huge, blazing oven, massive bars of cast iron, sand molds, and a wider clientele. Perhaps, if everything worked according to plan, he could broaden his operations and achieve the wealth and societal status that he still craved. A new beginning.
New beginnings in technical fields were neither cheap nor simple during the late eighteenth century due to crippling shortages in the two most essential commodities for establishing a manufactory: capital and technological expertise. By November 3, Revere had succeeded at the difficult first step of building the furnace. His available financial resources from silver shop profits and family connections proved sufficient for this project, and he solved the intellectual challenges thanks to a combination of his silverworking experience, technical aptitude, and a series of successful fact-finding missions. He still had to make his investment pay off by recruiting knowledgeable laborers, mastering casting processes, arranging dependable supplies of raw materials, and ensuring that his goods found buyers. He had a long road before him, but even he could not imagine how far it would lead him and his family.
Between 1788 and 1795, Revere learned not one but three applications for his furnace, starting with the casting of utilitarian iron objects for sale to consumers, and eventually leading to bell and cannon casting. Each field exposed him to a new network of practitioners, suppliers, and customers, and by repeatedly interacting with these communities and learning their practices, Revere participated in America’s ongoing technology transfer. Between independence and Jay’s Treaty of 1794, the industrial and economic relationship between Britain and America continued to follow colonial patterns because of America’s postwar economic weakness and dependence. Scarce labor supplies, older technologies, and the falling value of export goods produced a trade imbalance and American vulnerability to British mercantile tactics such as credit retraction and product dumping. Many entrepreneurs like Revere identified the potential local market for manufactured goods and searched for help with the technical processes so highly guarded in France and England. They found this help in various ways, often without crossing the Atlantic.
Revere did not record his reasons for investing a large portion of his available assets in an iron furnace and striking out in this new direction. His rudimentary understanding of iron-casting processes and experience with local markets probably gave him confidence that he could master the manufacturing process and turn a profit. His unsuccessful career as a merchant failed to provide him with wealth or prestige, but did allow him to assess the buying habits of Bostonians and identify potentially lucrative product lines. In particular, his hardware store operations taught him much about the local iron market and local iron producers. Something must have impressed him, since his weighing of pros and cons led to his furnace.
But profits and costs represent only part of the picture. Revere’s records strongly suggest another reason why he took a bold step into a new field: he tackled the challenges of iron casting because he loved learning new things. Revere’s career consists of repeated shifts from an established trade into a new one, and in each case his correspondence and records speak volumes about his startup procedures while de-emphasizing the ongoing older practices still being used in his shop. At some point after mastering each manufacturing application he turned it over to one of his sons so he could focus on the next one, at which point his documentation of the older enterprise grows sparse. This pattern reiterates several lessons from his silverworking career: Revere loved technical procedures, thrived on challenges, grew even more adept at networking as he grew older, and greatly enjoyed corresponding about metallurgy and metalworking in his free time, absorbing technical and market information from those in the know. However, his restless pursuit of technical knowledge reveals a lack of satisfaction with any one metallurgical operation. He hoped that casting might provide income, prestige, and a doorway to the upper echelons of public service, and not just add a new craft practice to his repertoire. His perspective began to shift as his operations and payroll grew, particularly after the government became an important client in his later years.
The man who decided in 1787, at the age of 52, to invest precious time and money in this new field was ready for a change. Apart from a few intriguing dabblings into gunpowder and cannon casting during the war, Revere’s only other opportunity to learn a completely new technical field happened decades before when he learned the “art and mystery” of silverworking at his father’s side. The apprentice system offered the opportunity to absorb the knowledge, skills, and culture of a trade from an established practitioner, only “graduating” upon the completion of years of work and demonstration of proven abilities. The artisan educational system had the backing of the entire society, and although this tradition began its decline at the end of the eighteenth century, it still represented the gold standard. Revere therefore faced intimidating challenges when he struck off in a new direction, as he had to learn the new trade, establish a reputation, and integrate his old and new identit
ies.
Paul Revere’s experiences as he learned the iron-casting business between 1787 and 1792 offer a wonderful example of the crucial phenomenon of technology transfer, a term typically used to explain how nations or societies learn from the example of more advanced ones. Revere attacked this challenge on a smaller scale throughout his self-directed apprenticeship in the iron trade, taking the initiative to experiment and forge valuable connections with “mentors” among the ironmasters at the Hope furnace in Providence, Rhode Island. As he intentionally set aside the rich history of silverworking he unwittingly adopted a new package of equally rich traditions befitting the age of iron, and he came to understand the importance of capital, technology, labor, and environmental inputs in successful manufacturing operations.
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