by Brad Meltzer
The buzz of war also means that political activists on both sides are marching in the streets or meeting in cafés, making the taverns loud with arguments and angry speeches. The printing presses still busily roll, churning out various newspapers and pamphlets.
Finally, the city’s unusual condition brings in thieves, looters, cutthroats, and various other ne’er-do-wells, all looking for some angle to profit or thrive from New York’s confused state.
However, in April 1776, by far the most prominent feature of the city is the arrival of thousands of Continental soldiers. Unlike outside Boston, where the army was spread out over wide encampments in fields and commons, here, many of the soldiers must board in tight city quarters. For the most part, they occupy the homes and buildings vacated by those who have left, sometimes sleeping several to a room.
This is how Washington finds New York City as he, his generals, and his Life Guards march into it. There are some crowds in the street cheering his arrival, to be sure, but in this complicated city there are both friends and enemies of the revolution—and at first glance, it can be hard to tell them apart.
When Washington first arrives in New York late on the morning of April 13, he goes directly to his new working headquarters at One Broadway, in the southwestern tip of lower Manhattan, just off a small park called Bowling Green.
There, Washington is greeted by a deeply unwelcome sight. Right in the middle of Bowling Green, and visible from the front door of his headquarters, is a massive statue of none other than George III, the King of England.
Set grandly on top of a huge fifteen-foot stone base, the gilded lead statue depicts his Majesty on horseback, wearing Roman garb like an emperor, and bearing a triumphant expression. It’s a fitting introduction to the trials that await George Washington in New York City, the very embodiment of everything he is fighting against is almost close enough to cast an actual shadow on the place where he’ll be working every day.
However, as Washington enters his new headquarters for the first time, King George isn’t the only powerful enemy within dangerous proximity.
Less than a mile away, floating in a wooden ship anchored just south of the downtown docks where the East River meets New York Harbor, the exiled Governor of New York works feverishly. In his dark, cramped quarters, William Tryon is devising an increasingly elaborate plot against the rebel usurpers and their so-called Commander.
27
Huntington, Long Island
April 1776
It’s all about the paper.
On the morning of April 19, 1776, Isaac Ketcham departs from his home in the town of Huntington, Long Island, and begins what will become a roughly four-day journey to Philadelphia.
Ketcham takes with him two horses. After all, selling these two animals to a Philadelphia-based buyer was his original reason for making this trip. Now, however, his mission is about something more.
Ketcham’s extra assignment, as agreed a few weeks ago, comes from his Long Island acquaintances: the Young brothers, and their partner in crime, the engraver-turned-counterfeiter Henry Dawkins.
In Ketcham’s personal bag, he carries a small sample of paper, of a very particular sort. It is the exact color and grade used to create the Continental currency. This paper is produced only in Philadelphia, and Ketcham’s task is to find the paper that matches his sample, and purchase as much as he can. If Ketcham can procure a large quantity, the Dawkins/Young Long Island counterfeiting ring will be printing paper currency by the pile this summer—and Ketcham will be paid for his role.
Ketcham obtained the sample in his pocketbook by making a stop in a New Jersey town called Brunswick Landing, as instructed by the Young brothers. There, he was told, he should find and talk to a man named Levi Lott, an acquaintance of the Youngs who has experience with paper mills and could offer more advice on how to find the right paper once in Philadelphia.
Ketcham found Levi Lott, but Lott didn’t have any suggestion for where in Philadelphia to source the paper. However, Lott did give Ketcham a very small sample of the exact kind of paper the team will need to duplicate Continental currency.
Lott explained to Ketcham that in order to get this sample, he had obtained a full sheet of paper bills and cut out a few centimeters of the raw paper between them. Once in Philadelphia, Ketcham will be able to show the sample to paper sellers and inquire where he might find a batch of stock to match it.
From Brunswick Landing, New Jersey, the travel time by horseback to Philadelphia is just over a day. Given his original departure from Long Island on April 19, Ketcham probably arrives at his destination on the morning of April 22. Once there, he first takes care of his prior business with the two horses, making the intended sale.
Yet when it comes to procuring the currency paper, Ketcham’s visit to the city doesn’t go as planned. In fact, he never makes it to Philadelphia’s paper mill. After asking a few merchants and shopkeepers in town, he’s dissuaded from going there by a man he later describes only as a “Dutchman.”
This Dutchman tells Ketcham that he knows where the paper is made—but that the makers will not sell him any paper because they are “sworn.” Meaning that they have probably taken an oath that they will use this paper only for official purposes. Certainly, they won’t give it to a stranger from Long Island like Isaac Ketcham.
Whether due to his conversation with the Dutchman, or for some other reason, Ketcham stops trying to acquire the paper. Maybe it’s because he is, at heart, a family man and an honest one—and he has a crisis of conscience about being involved in an illegal operation. More likely, he starts to worry that he’ll get caught. According to records of Ketcham’s later statements on the matter, he was nervous that even if he did procure the paper, the large size of the sheets might be too conspicuous while he travels:
Though he at first intended to obtain paper at Philadelphia for the purpose of printing money, yet, on consideration, he thought it dangerous, and determined not to bring the paper, even if he could obtain it; that he considered if he got the paper it would not go into his saddle-bags, and that if he should carry it in a bag, it would be discovered, and therefore determined not to bring it.
In any case, on or around April 26, Ketcham departs Philadelphia with two fewer horses and no paper at all, beyond the small sample still in his pocketbook. Despite several weeks of buildup and planning, Ketcham’s trip to Philadelphia has been a bust—at least from the counterfeiters’ point of view.
Indeed, as he begins the trip home, Ketcham probably doesn’t relish having to tell the Young brothers and their coconspirator, Henry Dawkins, about the inauspicious results of his mission. But tell them he must, because he has nothing to show for his trip.
During the journey back to Long Island, Ketcham’s conscience may in fact be clearer than it was a few days earlier. After all, he is no longer actively participating in a secret illegal scheme. He can go back to his six children in Huntington, Long Island, and look for an honest way to make ends meet. The Young brothers can find some other way to get paper for their phony bills.
However, as Ketcham is about to realize, whatever sense of relief he may be feeling during the trip back to Long Island, it won’t last long. When he gets home, Ketcham will find that separating himself from this band of outlaws is more difficult than he expects.
28
New York, New York
April 1776
It had been a long time since George Washington and William Tryon had crossed paths. The last time was back in June 1775, when Washington had passed through New York en route to Boston, on the very day Tryon had returned from London to resume his governorship.
Now, they are in the same city once again.
Much has shifted in those nine months, but one thing has not changed at all: Washington didn’t trust Tryon then, and he doesn’t trust him now.
Once in New York City, Washington learns more about the various Loyalist plots afoot in the region. Based on his generals’ reports and rumors on
the ground, Washington now strongly suspects that William Tryon is behind these plots, or at least behind some of them.
Back in February, Washington had fully approved General Lee’s initiative to prevent boats from shuttling back and forth between shore and the “King’s ships,” specifically the Duchess of Gordon where the Governor resided.
However, now that Washington is here in the city, he learns quickly that the rules preventing communication between the ships and the shore are not being enforced. On a regular basis, small boats are ferrying information back and forth to the Duchess of Gordon, with apparent impunity. Clearly, this communication with the shore is how the Governor maintains his influence.
On April 17, four days after his arrival in the city, Washington writes a letter to New York’s Committee of Safety, the local body tasked by the Provincial Congress with monitoring the safety and security of the city.
Regarding Tryon receiving visitors and supplies from shore, Washington complains that:
a continuance of the intercourse which has hitherto subsisted between the inhabitants of this colony, and the enemy on board the ships of war, is injurious to the common cause.… I should be anxious to remove an evil which may contribute not a little to the ruin of the great Cause we are engaged in, and may … prove highly detrimental to this colony in particular.
Notice the words he uses to describe the actions of his enemy, Governor Tryon: “an evil.” In the letter, he puts pressure on the local officials to enforce the rule:
[I am] relying upon your zeal and attachment to the cause of American liberty for your assistance in putting a stop to this evil, and that you will cooperate with me in such measures as shall be effectual, either to prevent any future correspondence with the enemy, or in bringing to condign punishment such persons as may be hardy and wicked enough to carry it on.
The Committee of Safety receives the letter and convenes to discuss it. The next day, April 18, the committeemen pass a new resolution expanding upon their previous edict. In the resolution, they reinforce the existing rule that forbids any communication between “the ship in which Governor Tryon resides, on the one part, and all the inhabitants of the Colony on the other.”
This time, the committee also clarifies that the delivery of any goods or other merchant activity between shore and the ships—even just the sale of food—will also be forbidden. The resolution ends with the strongest possible language:
Resolved and Ordered, that no inhabitant of this colony, upon any pretense, or for any purpose whatsoever, either in person or in writing, directly or indirectly, do presume to have or maintain any intercourse whatsoever with any ship or vessel belonging to or employed in the service of the King of Great Britain … or with any person or persons on board of the same, upon pain of being dealt with in the severest manner, as enemies to the rights and liberties of the United North American Colonies.
In other words anyone who communicates in any way with Governor Tryon’s ship is not just breaking the rules—but is committing a treasonous act.
The committee assures George Washington that it will impress upon the operators of every dock and wharf in Manhattan that no boat can disembark from the city bound for the Duchess of Gordon or any other king’s ship.
For the most part, Washington is satisfied with the language in the committee’s new resolution.
However, within only a few days, Continental officers learn of yet more instances of supply boats delivering goods to the Duchess. What Washington realizes, and what the city’s committee is probably reluctant to say, is that the civilian authorities simply don’t have the resources or ability to monitor every single boat in the city.
What’s more, the offending boats have devised sophisticated schemes to trick, bribe, or evade the sentries on the docks to reach the Duchess of Gordon and the Asia. Many merchants in the city are still loyal to Governor Tryon and want to continue to curry favor with him. Others may have no loyalty one way or the other, but won’t turn down the chance to sell their goods at healthy prices to the royal ships in the harbor.
As long as Tryon can ferry provisions, spies, and intelligence back and forth to shore, he can exert power and control over the city. Tryon is obviously not dissuaded by the rules put forth by the Provincial Congress, so Washington decides he must contribute the force of his own voice and his own army.
A few days later, on April 29, Washington writes another letter on the matter, but this time not to the Committee of Safety. This goes straight to the one place where it won’t be ignored: the newspapers, for the entire city to read. Washington specifically indicates the letter is “Given under my hand”—which means it’s written by him personally, so it can’t be misunderstood as just coming from an aide.
Washington’s proclamation to the public appears in the Constitutional Gazette on May 1 and the New-York Journal on May 2. In the letter, Washington expresses outrage that some “base and wicked persons” in the city are disobeying the rules by maintaining contact with Tryon and his men “for the purposes of giving intelligence and furnishing them with supplies or provision.”
In response to these crimes, Washington wants to make clear that violations will now be considered acts of treason and therefore punishable by his army:
To the end that such evil and pernicious practices may be remedied and prevented in future, I hereby publish and declare, that if any person, or persons shall hereafter presume to have … any kind of correspondence whatsoever, or furnish and supply the said ships of war, and other vessels … they so offending will be deemed and considered as an enemy, or enemies to the rights of the said colonies, and if apprehended will be treated accordingly.
Finally, Washington makes clear that this law will be enforced not just by the civilian authority of the Committee of Safety, but also by his own soldiers who now occupy the city. The proclamation concludes: “I do hereby will and require all officers and soldiers in the army under my command … to use their utmost care and diligence for preventing the same, and apprehending and securing all persons who shall be guilty thereof.”
Washington knows that everyone in the city will see this public proclamation—including, of course, Tryon himself. This should put some fear into those who have been manning the boats, and into the merchants who continue to do business with the Governor. If they do it again and get caught, they’ll have to answer to General Washington’s army.
In truth, Washington probably knows that there is only so much he and his soldiers can do to monitor every merchant vessel departing from or arriving at every dock in the city, at every hour of the day or night. He’s short on men and needs to prepare the city’s defenses against the massive British attack that’s about to come.
Still, he needed to make this statement. He needs to show who makes the rules in this city. If someone like William Tryon punches, you have to punch back.
In fact, the fight between these two men over the fate of the city is just getting started.
29
During his first few nights in New York City, George Washington stays overnight at his workday headquarters at One Broadway. However, it soon becomes necessary for the Commander-in-Chief to find a less conspicuous location for his sleeping quarters.
In less than a week, Washington’s aides move him to a less exposed lodging away from downtown. It’s on an estate called Mortier’s—also known as Richmond Hill—that lies roughly two miles to the northwest, in a wooded and secluded section of Manhattan’s west side, at what is now roughly the corner of Charlton and Varick Streets.
Previously, the property was owned and inhabited by the wealthy royal colonial official Abraham Mortier, who fled the city to escape the coming battle. The Continental army had promptly secured it, as they did with many homes and estates left empty by fleeing Loyalists. With serene views of the Hudson River, the manor house and its estate will provide Washington a retreat from bustle and noise—as well as the safety of being farther removed.
On the night of April 17,
1776, Washington, accompanied by soldiers and aides on horseback, arrives at his new home in the woods. This manor will be both his lodging and a second base of operations as the army prepares for the coming attack.
A key member of this residence will be an official housekeeper, Mary Smith. A local woman who had previously served prominent New Yorkers, Mary will run the kitchen, manage the servants, and oversee Washington’s daily living expenses.
Because the army’s move to New York City is the first time the officers are conducting business in a new location after their initial set-up in Cambridge, new procedures must be put in place for how the Commander-in-Chief and his generals live and work.
Accompanying George Washington at all times, whether at his work headquarters on Broadway or at the Mortier manor house, are members of the Life Guards. Under the direction of their Captain, Caleb Gibbs, the guards establish a series of regimented routines to protect the Commander-in-Chief.
Two armed Life Guards always stand at attention at the front entrance of the residence. Two stand at the back. This guard duty runs in shifts, like the modern Secret Service, so sentries are posted around the clock. When Washington relocates at any time of day or night, the Life Guards relocate with him. In addition to monitoring his person, at least one guard is always in the immediate vicinity of the army’s war chest, containing confidential documents and a stash of money.
The Life Guards run special drills to prepare for any potential harm to their Commander. At any sign of danger or hostile approach, the guards who stand sentry at each entrance run inside, barricade the door, and take positions by each window, muskets loaded and primed.
