War of 1812 Archives - 250 and Counting

Calling George Izard a “Nepo Baby” might be laying it on a little bit thick, but it’s pretty clear he came from some privileged people.

His mother was Alice DeLancey. She was the niece of New York Governor James DeLancey and a descendant of Stephanus Van Cortlandt and Gertrude Schuyler. And if you’re paying attention as you move around New York, you’ll realize that those are some prominent names he’s got in his pedigree.

George’s father was Ralph Izard, who was a delegate to the Continental Congress in the early 1780 and was able to pledge his estate in South Carolina to help pay for war ships during the Revolution. Ralph was elected to the US Senate and served from 1789 to 1795, and served as President Pro Tem for some time during the Third Congress.

So while not quite a Nepo Baby, George Izard was certainly from a privileged background (as I said), and made good use of it.

Now, something I didn’t know until I researched this episode is that gout, which is what killed Izard, and Lumbago are essentially the same thing. In the 18th century, “gout” was the word used if it affected the feet. If it was in the back or the loins, it was “lumbago,” in the knees it’s called “gonagra”, and other joints follow an “–agra” pattern. Gout is more easily treatable nowadays than it was then, but there are concerns that it’s starting to become a common ailment again.

If you’re interested in visiting George’s remains, you can visit Mount Holly Cemetery in Little Rock.

The post George Izard–October 21, 1776 appeared first on 250 and Counting.

There’s a cool thing about Joseph Lee Smith that Mike doesn’t cover in his story today, probably because he is SO JEALOUS OF ME.

Nah, I’m kidding. But the fact is, Joseph Lee Smith is tied up a little bit in my distant family history.

I mentioned once before that my family can trace back to a common ancestor, Thomas Call, who arrived in America sometime in the 1640s. Thus, anyone with the surname Call is related, however distantly. There were Calls who were among the first Mormons to go west with (the other) Joseph Smith, so the name is about as common in Utah as it is uncommon pretty much everywhere else.

Smith moved to Florida in 1821 and from 1823 to 1832 he was a territorial judge. In 1823 a delegate from Florida named Richard K Call introduced a resolution calling for the US House Judiciary Committee to investigage Smith on charges that he took bribes and kickbacks. The resolution was adopted and the investigation went on for at least seven years, but no charges were ever filed to impeach Smith.

There are a few Calls in Florida history, and a couple of towns have a Call Street, including Starke, which has a “Call Street Historic District“. This area was named specifically for Richard K Call.

Hm. My brother is named Richard Call, though he has a different middle initial. I may have to let him know about this…

The post Joseph Lee Smith–May 28, 1776 appeared first on 250 and Counting.

John Frelinghuysen was born on this day in 1776 (hey! Cake and Candles for this man!) and died in 1833. Like many people of the time, he never permanently left the area where he was born. Born there, lived and worked there, died there.

He probably went to Trenton on business a few times, and he was stationed at Sandy Hook while in the Army, but that appears to be about all as far as travel.

John Frelinghuysen married Louisa Mercer in 1797, and they had two daughters: Gertrude and Mary Ann. Louisa died around 1809 and John married Elizabeth Mercereau Van Vechten on November 13, 1811. They had eight children: Louisa, Theodore, Frederick J., Catharine, Sallie, Sophia, and Elizabeth LaGrange Frelinghuysen.

The post John Frederick Frelinghuysen–March 21, 1776 appeared first on 250 and Counting.

The thing that’s hard to understand when considering the flag that Mary Pickersgill put together, and that inspired our National Anthem, is that it’s huge. Mike says specifically that this flag is 17 feet by 42 feet, but that’s hard to picture.

When the flag was first displayed at the Smithsonian, it hung out in the open, against the atrium wall. But a flag that big, and that old, eventually begins to give in to gravity. So the Smithsonian folks took it down and spent a couple of years restoring it. Part of the work involved undoing the restoration job from 1914:

Now, a lot of it had been cut away for souvenirs (you can see the frayed bottom partially disguised by the painted stripes in the cover art today), and that red “V” shape is really meant to be an “A” for General Armistead. But the flag is back on display, lying flat at an angle making it easier to see, in a temperature- and humidity-controlled setting.

The parts that have been cut away are still missing, and the “A” has been removed. but even with nearly half of it gone, this thing is still enormous. And an original-size replica often flies over Fort McHenry, weather permitting.

The post Mary Pickersgill–February 12, 1776 appeared first on 250 and Counting.

If you’re going to have a kid in 1776, you’re probably going to be feeling a little patriotism when you do so. Such was the case with William Montgomery Crane, who got his middle name from General Richard Montgomery, under whom his father served around this point in the Revolutionary War.

Crane’s father was General William Crane, but at that time he was a lieutenant in the expedition to Quebec, and was part of the New Years Eve assault on that city. Crane was badly wounded in the ankle, an injury that bothered him for decades and eventually led to the foot being amputated, and his eventual death in 1814.

As far as his son William is concerned, we had to gloss over this, but Crane spent a few years in the Mediterranean during the Barbary War, working on protecting ships from piracy. After the Revolution, American ships naturally lost protection from the British Navy and were vulnerable to pirate attacks when they refused to pay protection. President Thomas Jefferson relied on a strategy of using the US Navy to put together blockades, patrols and even direct assaults on the pirate ships. Eventually the tactic worked and Crane was recognized for his efforts when his gunboat endured heavy fire to destroy a battery’s walls in Tripoli in just a couple of hours.

The post William Montgomery Crane–February 1, 1776 appeared first on 250 and Counting.

It could be argued that Captain Heald’s biggest claim to fame is that he was on hand for the disastrous outcome at Fort Dearborn, but at least he doesn’t eat the blame for it; it just happened to be the guy who was there.

On the bright side (such as it is), the events at Dearborn were soon overshadowed by President Madison declaring war on the British, thus beginning the War of 1812. Heald and his wife, who were both injured at Fort Dearborn, were released back to the Americans. Heald was promoted shortly thereafter and given a disability discharge in 1814. And isn’t that always the way.

The post September 24, 1775: Captain Nathan Heald appeared first on 250 and Counting.

Thomas Boyle wasn’t born in Baltimore, Maryland, but when he was a young man he made it his home and became quite successful there, as a merchant marine and an overall businessman.

And, of course, given Baltimore’s penchant for naming streets after historic people and events, there is a Boyle Street. It’s not very long; in fact you see the entire road in the photo below.

In this picture the viewer is standing on Fort Avenue looking down toward Key Highway. The green structure in the background is the Baltimore Museum of Industry, and the Inner Harbor is just beyond that. Based on my research, Boyle didn’t live near this location; he’d settled in a part of town called Fell’s Point, which is on the other side of the harbor and about a mile to the east. If a person standing where the camera was for this photo turned to the right, they could probably see the entrance to Fort McHenry.

The post June 29, 1775: Thomas Boyle, Privateer appeared first on 250 and Counting.

When it comes to the War of 1812, Baltimore and the Fort McHenry get to eat for free for a long time, because they get most of the good stories: the star-spangled banner and Francis Scott Key, the battle at North Point, the Shot Tower being briefly the highest structure in America, and so on.

But there was a lot of fighting going on elsewhere, particularly in upstate New York, around the Great Lakes area, and General Jacob Brown was in the thick of it. He was a nationally-recognized war hero back in the day, but nowadays he’s largely forgotten. And more’s the pity.

Listen in on a brief review of General Brown’s life.

The post May 9, 1775: Jacob J. Brown appeared first on 250 and Counting.

Alexander McNair wasn’t especially well-educated, but he became a judge and a governor of a territory and then that same area when it became a state, so he must have had something going on besides high-level friends.

Then again, as governor, he wasn’t able to get a ton of stuff done, and when his term ended he took on a Federal job just for the money. So, for a guy who spent so much time in the “Show-Me State”, he didn’t really have much to show.

The post May 5, 1775: Alexander McNair, First Governor of Missouri appeared first on 250 and Counting.

It’s cake and candles today for Francis Cabot Lowell, a manufacturer who helped modernize the textile industry in the United States, largely through industrial espionage: in the middle of a trade war with Europe, Lowell visited England and memorized the processes they were using so that he could bring them back to this side of the pond, helping us to break the hold on imported goods from Europe by innovating the cradle-to-grave manufacturing process for fabrics.

Yet, despite his prominence in the industry, and despite the statue that stands in his name in the town of Lowell, Massachusetts, the silhouette seen in today’s cover art is the only hint that we have regarding what he might have looked like. There are no portraits extant that we know of.

The post April 7, 1775: Francis Cabot Lowell appeared first on 250 and Counting.