Rush Revere and the First Patriots: Time-Travel Adventures With Exceptional Americans Page 11

  I turned, grabbed a piece of chalk, and wrote on the chalkboard, “The Townshend Acts.” I said, “The Stamp Act wasn’t the only act or law that Parliament created and King George III approved to tax the thirteen colonies. The Quartering Act, the Declaratory Act, and numerous other acts continued to make the colonies boil with anger and hatred toward King George. But it was the Townshend Acts that may have finally pushed the colonies over the edge.”

  Elizabeth raised her hand and said, “You’re making King George sound like a monster. Actually, he was a very nice guy with incredible taste in fashion, gorgeous blue eyes, and let’s not forget, he was a king.”

  “Thank you, Elizabeth,” I said. “But let’s finish our discussion by saying that the Townshend Acts were a series of 1767 laws named for Charles Townshend, the British chancellor of the treasury. He’s the guy keeping track of all the King’s money. These laws placed new taxes on glass, lead, paints, paper, and tea. How do you think the colonies felt about paying more and more taxes?”

  Notice from Boston merchants calling for a complete repeal of the Townshend duties, 1769.

  Portrait of Charles Townshend by Joshua Reynolds.

  Cam started singing the chorus from Liberty’s Stamp Act song. “Because your taxes aren’t fair, you make us so mad, you make us so mad, you make us so, so mad!”

  The class laughed as Cam took a bow from his seat.

  “Exactly,” I said. “Many of the colonists protested; sometimes they showed violence against British soldiers and the British tax collectors. So King George sent more British troops to the colonies. In fact, he sent four thousand Redcoats to the city of Boston, which only had twenty thousand residents at the time.”

  “It sounds like Boston was swarming with Redcoats,” said Tommy.

  “I wish I could take all of you back to Boston on March fifth of 1770,” I said. “You’ll need to use your imaginations for this. If it helps to close your eyes, please do. Daydream, if you will, to March fifth, 1770. You’re in Boston, Massachusetts. It is evening and the moon is full. You’re on King Street in front of the Customs Office. Street lanterns dimly light the way as you walk along the cobblestone. Eighteenth-century brick buildings and—”

  Suddenly, the walls of the classroom started to spin. I leaned back onto the teacher’s desk for fear that I might topple over. Was I spinning or was the room spinning? I wasn’t sure. The students seemed to notice it as well. A gold and purple swirling pattern raced along the walls and encircled us until the walls completely vanished and the Bostonian scene I had just described appeared all around us. Even the cobblestone street was beneath our desks and feet. I slid my foot across the ground and it was smooth like a classroom floor, not like cobblestone.

  “Mr. Revere, is this supposed to be happening?” asked Tommy.

  “No worries,” I said, lying. “Stay in your seats. You’re experiencing, uh, a new, um, technological, uh, teaching moment . . .” I honestly had no idea what was happening. It looked like we were back in time. But that was impossible! We hadn’t jumped through a portal. We would need Liberty to do that. And that’s when it hit me. Liberty! This had to be his doing. I looked to the back of the room and noticed him leaned up against the back wall, fast asleep. He must be dreaming this! Somehow his subconscious had the ability to simulate the historical event I was describing! Liberty was re-creating history all around us. None of it was real but the virtual experience made us feel like we were actually there. Unbelievable! I decided to make the most of the situation and continued with my storytelling.

  “Suddenly, you find yourself with a mob of people who start to throw snow, ice, and rocks at the British soldiers standing in front of the Customs Office,” I said.

  Sure enough, as I described the scene a large mob of colonists appeared to the right of us. To the left appeared a small group of British soldiers. A colonist stood only a few yards away from me and threw a chunk of ice. It hurtled directly at me on its way toward the soldiers. Instinctively, I winced and flinched right before the ice hit me in the side of face. But, surprisingly, the ice chunk went right through my head and continued forward, hitting the chest of a British soldier. I had forgotten this was just a simulation. It was just a virtual, holographic representation that Liberty was creating while dreaming. It seemed so real! I noticed other students dodging snow, ice, and rocks as the projectiles flew through the air.

  A broadside (poster) describing the Boston Massacre, March 5, 1770.

  I continued with my narration and shouted, “The Redcoats tried to keep order and stop the colonists from demonstrating against the Townshend Acts. However, the soldiers were forbidden to shoot anyone unless they had an order from a civil magistrate who was like a judge. The Americans and Patriots knew this so they kept trash-talking and taunting the British troops. Confusion and chaos only increased when the bells began to ring from the nearby Old Brick Church.”

  Again, the literal sound of church bells rang through my ears as the chaos continued all around us. I knew the bell was normally used as a fire alarm in eighteenth-century Boston so it wasn’t surprising when people started shouting, “Where’s the fire?”

  I continued: “The large, angry crowd pressed in on the nine British soldiers, who were desperately outnumbered. Suddenly, one of the British soldiers is knocked down by something hitting his head and someone yells, ‘Fire!’ ”

  The sound of gunshots ripped through the air and suddenly, the classroom walls returned as the sights and sounds of 1770 Boston vanished like a magical act.

  “Oh, sorry, I must have dozed off for a minute,” said Liberty, a bit startled. “Did I miss anything? The last thing I remember, you were talking about Boston and then I had the strangest dream. More like a nightmare.”

  “That was awesome!” said a boy in the front row.

  “This class rocks!” said another boy.

  “You’re the best teacher ever!” said a girl sitting by the window. “How did you do that?”

  Gratefully, the students seemed clueless that Liberty was the source of the simulation.

  “Oh, it’s, um, all high-tech cinematronics,” I said, hoping it was enough.

  “Seriously,” said Liberty, “I feel like I missed something.”

  Just when I tried to get the class back on track, the school fire alarm sounded.

  Principal Sherman’s voice was heard on the school intercom system. He said, “Dear students, this is our annual school fire drill. Please calmly leave your classrooms and head outside to the blacktop. Thank you.”

  I followed the students out of the room but just before I passed through the doorway I noticed Freedom and Cam huddled with Liberty. I walked to the back of the room and asked, “I take it the three of you have something on your mind?”

  “Mr. Revere,” said Cam. “Since Freedom and I didn’t time-travel with you last time, do you think we could go now? I’d love to go to Boston in 1770. We could learn more about the Boston Massacre!”

  “I’m in!” said Freedom, enthusiastically. “We could be back before anyone realizes we’re missing!”

  Liberty nodded rapidly and nearly danced in place.

  “All right,” I said.

  The three of them cheered in unison.

  “You’ll have to change your clothes in the past. If you run to the restroom now you may get caught by another teacher. Help me move these desks to either side of the room so we have a running path for Liberty.”

  In a matter of seconds we were ready to go. Freedom and Cam rode on Liberty and I followed close behind.

  “Rush, rush, rushing to history!” said Liberty.

  We were headed to Boston and I was excited to find Samuel Adams. I was nervous at the same time. I had just witnessed what happened in Boston on March 5, 1770. It was a dreadful day in American history, and when five Americans died and more were wounded, I knew this was the beginning of a revolutionary war.

  Chapter 8

  On a crisp winter morning we landed alongside a large
, redbrick building. The bottom level looked like a marketplace where several merchants, fishermen, meat and produce sellers, and peddlers of every kind were selling their goods. The second level had several windows; some were opened and many voices could be heard inside.

  “You realize we landed a day after the Boston Massacre, right?” Liberty said.

  “Is this March sixth, 1770?” I asked.

  “Yes, but you said the massacre happened on March fifth,” Liberty reminded me.

  “Yes, I’m aware of that,” I whispered. “But I didn’t want my students to witness the Boston civilians who died.”

  “Why is it that the past always seems colder than the future?” said Freedom. “It’s freezing out here!”

  I reached for my travel bag and handed Freedom and Cam their colonial clothes. “Put these clothes over your modern-day clothes. You should be warmer with a double layer.”

  Freedom and Cam eagerly put on the clothes like they were racing each other.

  “I want the two of you to stay close to me,” I said. “Let’s walk to the front of the building and see where we are.”

  “Why don’t we just ask Liberty?” said Cam. “Isn’t he supposed to have special powers that let him know when and where we are?”

  Liberty closed his eyes and concentrated before saying, “We’re definitely in Boston and this building is . . . I can see the name but I’m not sure I can pronounce it.”

  “Faneuil Hall,” said Freedom. “It must be a French name.”

  “How did you know that?” asked Cam.

  “I read Liberty’s mind,” Freedom said, smiling.

  “You can read minds?” asked Cam with a worried expression on his face.

  “Don’t worry, I can only communicate with animals. But I do have X-ray vision!”

  “What?!” Cam blurted out as he walked behind Liberty.

  “I’m just kidding.” Freedom laughed.

  “But wouldn’t that be cool?” Liberty said. “I wish I had X-ray vision.”

  “You don’t need it,” I said. “You have your Time-Travel Sense. Can you sense Samuel Adams in this building?”

  Liberty paused and then said, “Yep, he’s definitely in there.”

  “And Faneuil Hall is a special building,” I said. “It served as the Patriot headquarters or meeting place to discuss the Stamp Act, the Boston Massacre, the tea crisis, and other British laws that burdened the colonists.”

  “Where’s Liberty?” Freedom asked.

  We turned and spotted Liberty near the front of Faneuil Hall. He was staring at what looked like a sign. We followed Liberty and as we got closer I read the sign that had caught his complete attention. It read, Faneuil Hall Boston, the Cradle of Liberty. Dedicated in 1763 in the cause of liberty!

  “Have you ever seen anything so beautiful?” asked Liberty, who was nearly crying. “Although I don’t remember sleeping in a cradle. In fact, I don’t think I’d fit inside a cradle unless it was a giant one. Oh well. Hey, you should take a picture of me beside this sign!”

  After a quick photo I said, “Let’s look inside the building.”

  “What are we looking for?” asked Freedom.

  “I want to meet Samuel Adams,” I said. “Today, he’s giving an impassioned speech about last night’s horrific events.”

  Liberty replied, “I’m going to sit this one out. I mean I’m glad this Adams guy is on our side but I don’t want to risk getting yelled at.”

  “Why do you say that?” Freedom asked, a little worried.

  I interjected: “From what I’ve learned Samuel Adams is not a patient person but I’m sure he’s—”

  “You said he was pigheaded and needs anger-management classes,” Liberty said.

  “Well, I, uh, I’ve never actually met the man. It’s just what I’ve read in history books,” I said defensively.

  “So why are we meeting him?” Cam asked.

  I sighed and explained: “Samuel Adams may not have the genius and social skills of Benjamin Franklin and he may not be as brilliant and lighthearted as Patrick Henry but he definitely played an important role in America’s independence. Let me tell the three of you something that I hope you never forget. You will meet people in your life that get on your nerves. Maybe they challenge your ideas or they’re not willing to completely agree with you. That doesn’t mean they’re bad people. Yes, Samuel Adams was said to be a stubborn and quick-tempered man. But I think we’ll see that he was an incredible motivator. The point is I believe that God knew He would need different people with a variety of personalities to create a free America. He needed men and women who weren’t afraid to speak their minds. He needed people who would not back down. And, frankly, this country needs more of that today. Our country needs kids like you to speak up when our liberties are being threatened. Our forefathers said and did hard things even when they knew it might not be the popular thing. Samuel Adams is one of those people. He wasn’t trying to win a popularity contest. He was trying to motivate people to take a stand and fight for their liberties!”

  “Thanks, Mr. Revere,” said Cam. “I know peer pressure makes a lot of kids go along with the crowd even when they know it’s not the right thing.”

  “Yeah, thanks, Mr. Revere,” echoed Freedom. “My mom named me Freedom because she hoped that it would give me the courage to stand up to others who might take advantage of me. I don’t do a very good job at that. But now I’m anxious to meet Samuel Adams. Maybe I can pick up a few tips from him.”

  “No kidding,” agreed Cam. “Let’s go meet the Samuelator!”

  “The what?” Liberty said.

  “You know, like the Terminator! The Samuelator!”

  “Oh, well, good luck with that. I’ll meet you outside when you’re finished,” said Liberty.

  As we entered the front doors I noticed the hall inside was packed with people, from the entrance all the way to the platform on the other side. The man standing near the podium was dressed in simple colonial fashion. He looked like he was in his late forties. I immediately felt his penetrating stare, which seemed to reach all the way across the room and into my soul. When he started to speak I knew instantly that this was the exceptional American Samuel Adams. “There he is,” I said.

  “That’s the Samuelator?” asked Cam.

  “Show some respect,” said Freedom. “It’s Samuel Adams.”

  “Yes, that’s him!” I said, mesmerized by what he was saying.

  Samuel looked over the crowd and boldly said, “The governor of Massachusetts says that I’m the great incendiary. He says I spread lies about the British Empire and spread stories about the injustice of the King. But I will tell you that my purpose and my passion is to warn against the hostile designs of Great Britain!”

  The crowded room erupted with shouts and cheers.

  Samuel Adams continued: “Furthermore, I accept your nomination to chair a committee that will petition Governor Hutchinson for the immediate removal of British troops from the city of Boston!”

  “Hear, hear!” shouted members of the crowd.

  “America should never forget the horrid massacre in Boston,” said Samuel, “when five innocent Patriots were shot by British muskets. We will honor men like Crispus Attucks, who was the first to fall, struck twice in the chest by bullets.”

  Again, the crowd erupted with anger. It was beginning to look and sound like a mob.

  “That’s harsh!” said Cam. “I remember hearing the gunshots in the classroom. I bet that’s when the Patriots got shot.”

  “Yeah,” said Freedom. “But I don’t like that innocent people are getting killed.”

  “No kidding,” said Cam, somberly. “And too bad about Crispus Attucks. I’ve never heard of him before.”

  I whispered, “History tells us that Attucks was of African and Native American descent and had fled to Boston after escaping his enslavers. In fact, he has a monument in Boston that hails him as a hero of the American Revolution, the first Patriot to give his life for the cau
se.”

  “I wonder if he would’ve still gone to King Street and protested like that if he knew he might die,” said Freedom thoughtfully.

  “That’s a good question, Freedom,” I said. “But I think a hero does what needs to be done and says what needs to be said despite the consequence, even if it means giving your life. That’s why I consider Samuel Adams an American hero. He could have hanged for the things he said, but it didn’t stop him.”

  As the public meeting ended we weaved our way through the crowded hall and headed toward the podium.

  “We’ll try to introduce ourselves to Samuel Adams. It would be great to meet him and ask a few questions,” I said. “But I’m not sure I see him anymore.”

  “It feels like everyone’s really fired up!” Freedom said.

  “No kidding,” Cam said. “It feels like we’re at a tailgate party before a football game. It’s too bad Samuel Adams can’t come to a game. I bet he’d be an awesome cheerleader!”

  “Oh, sure, let’s invite Samuel Adams to a football game. I’m sure he doesn’t have anything better to do,” Freedom said, a voice of reason.

  Crispus Attucks, one of the men killed in the Boston Massacre.

  “And just what am I being invited to?” asked Samuel from behind us.

  I could hardly believe I was standing face-to-face with the legendary Samuel Adams. I said, “Sir, Mr. Adams, Samuel or do you go by Sam, I mean, it’s a pleasure to meet you. We’re huge admirers of yours and fellow Patriots!”

  “I’m not looking for admirers,” stated Samuel. “But I am looking to grow the cause of freedom. Now, tell me about this football game. Is this a game for Patriots?”

  “Actually, yes,” laughed Cam. “The New England Patriots are a football team in Massachusetts! Personally, I like the Broncos but—”

  Freedom elbowed Cam in the ribs.

  I quickly tried to change the subject and said, “These are two of my students, Cam and Freedom. And I’m Rush Revere, history teacher and historian. I brought them to hear your speech and, hopefully, help them understand the importance of fighting for freedom. We were very inspired and motivated by your speech. In fact, we’d love to help support the cause any way we can.”