Revere’s largest and most important capital funding came from government contracts and support in the final stages of his career. Most Americans had limited interactions with the federal government, perhaps through the U.S. Postal Service, army recruiters, or articles in partisan newspapers. The same Revolutionaries who resented Britain’s incursion upon their freedom prevented the new American government from following a similar trajectory by restricting its size and domestic influence. At the same time, many nationalist politicians, including most members of the Federalist Party, hoped to use the government to support enterprises that augmented America’s self-sufficiency and prosperity. The American government in general, and the War and Navy departments in particular, sponsored technological development since Washington’s administration at the very birth of the new republic. Contractors needed a good degree of initiative to find ways to receive help in the form of loans or contracts from such a small and limited national organization, particularly in its earliest years when even government officials lacked a clear sense of the scope of their authority. Revere had a good degree of initiative, and his persistence paid off.
Even after he failed to become the director of the mint or a customs inspector, Revere still believed the government had a place for him. When he shifted his full attention to manufacturing endeavors, his role became clear. At that point, all that remained was years of frustrating correspondence and administrative delay as he patiently convinced the government to hire him for different jobs and then pay him the agreed-upon fees. No private contract gave him this much trouble, but no private contract could even remotely compete with the government’s appetite and deep pockets. In particular, the navy’s $10,000 loan provided him with tangible capital, the most vital requirement for entrepreneurial success in early America. Most entrepreneurs relied upon family wealth or alliances with moneyed men, and future businessmen usually formed corporations to raise their funds, but Revere and a small number of contemporaries made the government work for them.11
And finally, Revere also benefited from his immense technological versatility. To phrase this differently, Revere excelled at transferring technologies from other fields and locations into his own operations. Although the concept of technology transfer does not truly apply to a well-established field such as silverworking, even at that early point in his career Revere’s communal practices showed the importance of cooperation within the local culture. Individual practitioners undoubtedly competed with one another for clients, but as a whole they used the division of labor principle to work together. Subcontracting allowed them to divide work and maximize their ability to deploy skilled labor to satisfy the largest number of customers.
American ironworking also involved cooperation between firms, and in this case it did involve technological sharing. The different establishments within the ironworking field developed symbiotic relationships: blast furnaces needed forges and fineries to buy their products; finishing industries depended upon furnaces for raw materials; and all firms actively shared patterns, recommended responsible workers, and answered one another’s questions. In a nation with abundant natural resources and growing consumer demand, the efficiency, specialization, and support that resulted from a larger network of cooperative shops greatly outweighed any concerns about competition. In spite of the crippling scarcity of intellectual capital, technical practitioners saw more to gain from sharing their knowledge than from hoarding it. As an ironworker, bell caster, and cannon founder, Revere interacted with his fellow practitioners through letters, visits, and purchases of tools and patterns. Some would-be rivals such as James Byers became his close friends, and within a remarkably short time he managed to enter each new field, add to the community’s expertise, and share his knowledge with others in return.
Revere’s culminating experience with technology transfer occurred during his copperworking career. He was one of the first Americans to make malleable copper into bolts and spikes, and the very first American to roll it into sheets. He employed knowledge from all his earlier endeavors, as well as some astute reverse engineering, to help reproduce the high-quality British goods that soon became his primary competition. His activities centered on reinventing British techniques by applying lessons from casting and silverworking, and he received all the help he could through the illegal importation of British iron rollers, the primary technological element unavailable in America. The issue of cooperation arose in later years when two other American copper rollers entered the field. Once again, he seemed unconcerned with the threats posed by potential competitors, allowed others to visit his rolling mill, and offered extensive technical advice and diagrams to help Levi Hollingsworth and H. M. Salomon.
In the political sphere, American statesmen had recently created a new government that from the moment of its inception attempted to improve the British model upon which it was based. America’s manufacturers lacked this luxury. Finding themselves years behind their British counterparts, cut off from British processes and equipment, and lacking Britain’s surplus of cheap laborers, supply networks, and investment capital, American entrepreneurs had a lot of catching up to do. Paul Revere underwent the technical research and experimentation process not once, but many times. In mastering all his technical endeavors, what he truly excelled at was the learning process, and his example shows how he and other Americans learned new trades. In the late eighteenth century neither Revere nor any of his countrymen could compete with or surpass British technology, but by emulating British processes and combining relevant expertise from some of the fields already practiced in America, these innovators advanced America’s technological infrastructure to a point where future manufacturers could break new ground. Contemporaries appreciated the efforts of these technical pioneers: Benjamin Franklin, no stranger to the concept of innovation and self-improvement, believed that men who invent “new Trades, Arts, or Manufactures, or new Improvements in Husbandry, may properly be called Fathers of their Nation.”12 And John Adams astutely defined emulation as “imitation and something more—a desire not only to equal or resemble but to excel.”13 History typically rewards inventors, but emulators also deserve their moment in the sun, particularly in the early years of nations and enterprises. Revere’s career reminds us of the importance of all aspects of technology transfer: at times an individual, a technical community, or even a state has to copy or borrow, learning all the while, until the opportunity for a great leap forward presents itself. Revere never pushed his country past Britain’s mastery of technology, but he closed the gap substantially during his career. Future manufacturers would continue the trajectory that Revere had started, and would see farther. After all, they stood on the shoulders of giants.
Revere’s success in shifting between technical fields also drew upon his command of technology and metallurgical processes at both a practical and a theoretical level. He used methodical research to expand his repertoire and he soon mastered the scientific and technical vocabularies of the time, limited though they were. His passionate correspondence with scientists in America and England reveals the extent of his scientific interests, which certainly infringed upon his personal time. He also loved new machinery and tools, and understood them well enough to envision new uses for existing devices, identify flaws, and postulate solutions. Revere combined some of the traits of scientists and engineers, and always strove to understand why as well as how something worked.
Even though Revere appreciated the perfection of technical processes, he definitely did not want to restrict himself to a laboring role. As a master craftsman Revere wore all the hats: he was a teacher, manager, promoter, designer, producer, and researcher. As his career progressed he tried to separate these job duties. He still wanted to manage, learn new processes, and instruct his men, but for most of his career he strove to eliminate manual labor from his job description. Apparently manufacturing and financial success represented only part of his larger objective.
The Pursuit of Happiness: Revere’s Go
als and Identity
Summarizing a person’s goals is a risky business because a lifetime of decisions never fits a single framework. Revere’s goals evolved quite naturally in accordance with changing external conditions and in response to the success or failure of his different endeavors. With this in mind, several primary patterns emerge from all his career shifts and business practices, best told in the form of one final narrative, from the perspective of Paul Revere.
In the beginning, Revere’s priorities, concerns, and actions followed the well-traveled trail of most young middle-class artisans. His apprenticeship inaugurated him into an ancient tradition of skilled labor and exclusive knowledge. He worked hard under his father’s supervision and did his best to support his family after his father died. Silverworking verified his consummate skill as an artisan, and his pride was justified by his intelligence, perception, and love of learning. This pride gave him the confidence to undertake new endeavors in an ambitious manner. His colonial upbringing separated his personal outlook from that of the post-Revolutionary generation: as a pre-Revolutionary silversmith he interacted with the gentry on a regular basis and observed and envied their privileges. Therefore, he did not aspire to success in his trade or to the amassing of status among artisans. The gentry dominated the world of his youth, and Revere hoped to stand in their midst.
Revere’s elite status in the ranks of Revolutionary artisans and his high visibility among upper-class buyers of silver items led to a critical role in the Revolutionary War. For one exciting night’s ride he became the commander and instigator, taking charge in the center of events by waking the countryside, rallying support, and outmaneuvering the enemy. The Revolution encouraged him to think bigger and he tried to achieve a more prominent role in the society he served so diligently. Throughout the rest of the war he performed other important services, interacted with many of the traditional leaders of society, and hungered for more. After paying his dues in the Patriot movement he expected some form of recognition when victory was won. But his hopes and dreams shattered against an uncrossable barrier: colonial gentry privileges almost always resulted from one’s birthright and he could never gain them by getting his hands dirty.
Fortunately for Revere, changing times and national events opened new possibilities. During the post-Revolutionary period, hierarchical social stratification became a hated reminder of British oppression and restriction. A growing meritocracy arose in which one’s skills and ambition replaced the importance of birthright. Societal stratification now depended on economic measures that gave primary status and power to the wealthy, supported by an almost Darwinian justification of their privilege. Post-Revolutionary ideology offered Revere a chance to enter the upper crust of society on his own terms by earning his place in their ranks. Meritocracy accorded with republican principles, in which society elected its most prominent and most talented members for public service. Revere subscribed to the notion of a meritocracy but not to any version of democracy: the gifted deserved power and status, and Revere counted himself in this elite assemblage. And societal service should certainly include fitting rewards. Revere and fellow Federalists wanted to do their part to improve America’s political, military, and economic position in a manner that also bettered their own circumstances. In fact, Revere honestly believed he could best help America by becoming a successful businessman and attaining positions of wealth and authority that allowed him to expand his influence and share his growing expertise with society as a whole.
At first he tried to become a merchant, funding his efforts with proceeds from his silver shop and early casting endeavors. This failed for many reasons: he did not have a good sense of purchasing habits; his timing was poor; and he lacked the necessary personal contacts, reputation, and investment capital. He tried to arrange a government appointment, but this also failed because of insufficient connections and reputation. As a card-carrying Federalist he became completely frustrated: the qualified men should rule and he knew he possessed the required qualifications, but nobody believed him.
In the process of arriving at this dead end he had an epiphany. Somehow the means to the end became the end; the manufacturing activities that funded his quest for status became his source of status. These pursuits succeeded in part from the growth of his operations and the profound changes that transformed the nature of craftsmanship. With expanding markets and increasing consumerism, small craft shops started giving way to larger and more visible manufactories managed and owned by proto-industrial entrepreneurs. As a manufacturer Revere made money and provided a valuable public service without getting his hands dirty. He was the leader, he commanded respect, and he used his mind to solve problems. It helped that he devoted most of his efforts to advanced technical issues that perfectly suited his talents.
The culmination of this epiphany occurred when he received the opportunity to roll copper. At last all the pieces fell into place. Copper rolling related to the U.S. Navy, a federal institution intimately associated with the national welfare. Copper rolling also related to America’s prestige: if Revere succeeded he would strike a blow for America’s technological independence and help build a fleet to assert and defend its political independence. The $10,000 loan from Stoddert became an embodiment of his important contribution. In addition to representing a vital financial benefit, the loan signified his mandate from government, tangible proof that the nation’s leaders needed and sought his help. He certainly focused on the financial aspects of the loan at first, but in the years to come he repeatedly mentioned it as an example of his manufactory’s importance. He was becoming a man of affairs and finally played a high-profile role in national events by providing a vital, heroic service that no other American could manage.
With his success, Revere believed the good times had only just begun. Anticipating admittance into the ranks of the Federalist elite he expected good treatment such as the continuation of major government contracts and certainly a monopoly, since he was the only American to provide copper sheeting. Unfortunately, at this moment the Federalists permanently lost their grip on power and the Jeffersonians immediately distanced themselves from manufacturing, from government spending, from a strong navy, and from Revere’s business. Revere fought them at every step: he wanted his loan, he wanted his manufactory to provide copper for all the government’s needs, he wanted a protective tariff that provided special protection from foreign competition, and he could not understand why he never received these well-earned rewards. He won the battle to receive the funding Stoddert had promised, but lost the war. The Jeffersonians saw the loan as a strictly monetary transaction, and Revere as just another government contractor. He would never become a high-profile public servant or government leader. The Midnight Ride lay in his past, and he would not have another opportunity to be a hero.
But he was a manufacturer, and in the end that meant something after all. For starters, labor had lost its servitude-based connotations in favor of the growing image of the “self-made man.” No one, friend or foe, could mistake Revere for a “mere” laborer by this point: he owned property, managed a large workforce, contributed to his community, and produced high-tech goods that approached or equaled the quality of their English counterparts. More important than his net worth was the magnitude of his accomplishments, the technological secrets he wrested from Britain to strengthen his country, the size of his business and volume of its output. Rather than hurting his fame, the appearance of other copper rollers enhanced it: he could accurately consider himself the founder of what we now call a national industry as others followed in his footsteps, sought his advice, built upon his achievements, and continued his work. On the eve of his retirement he even accepted a new ideal, that of Cantondale, which helped him find contentment in the pastoral harmony connecting his thriving operations with their natural surroundings. Property ownership, a manufacturing legacy, societal prestige, and reclining under an oak tree represented different forms of success and happiness. At the culmination of h
is last and greatest ride, Paul Revere could appreciate them all.
Acknowledgments
I first started thinking about Paul Revere in the final weeks of 1996 thanks to the advice of my astute mentor. Merritt Roe Smith, my advisor in MIT’s graduate program in the History and Social Study of Science and Technology, wanted to steer me to an interesting research project . . . nothing too major, just a nice scholarly paper topic that might fulfill a Ph.D. graduation requirement and get me some research and writing practice. He told me to take a look at Paul Revere “and do a little digging” because he knew there was more to this story than meets the eye. Fifteen years later, the digging has evolved into a full-scale excavation: that paper became a journal article, then a dissertation, and finally this book. What looked like an interesting new view of Paul Revere’s life proved to be a lens for examining a much larger picture—one that encompassed early American artisan and social communities, entrepreneurship and enterprise formation, and proto-industrialization. As I came to understand Revere, he served as my guide through a world of early American transformations and eventually became a key part of my professional identity. At the end of this journey I find myself unexpectedly sad to leave it behind, and forever thankful to everyone who made the experience so rewarding.
Midnight Ride, Industrial Dawn Page 45
