Two Revolutionary War Ancestors

 

Two ancestors of mine – father and son Deliverance and Oliver Parmenter – appear in a scene of my Revolutionary War novel “Crossing the River.”  Hearing the toll of the Sudbury, Massachusetts Colony, meeting house bell in the mid-morning of April 19, 1775, 30-year-old Deliverance Parmenter unyoked his oxen in his farthest field, drove them into his yard, grabbed his musket, powder bag, shot bag, and powder horn, and hurried to the town common.  He and his company of militiamen hastened to Brooks Hill, several miles east of Concord, to intercept Colonel Francis Smith’s 700 redcoat army on its return march from Concord to Boston.  It was early afternoon when the long column of soldiers began its descent of the hill.  From both sides of the road Deliverance and his company burned powder.

 

I utilized my two ancestors in the fictitious scene below to serve several purposes.  I wanted to dramatize the concern and love that fathers and sons had to have felt reciprocally prior to engaging in mortal combat.  I wanted to demonstrate the fear that they must have experienced.  I wanted to communicate what compelled them to risk not only their lives but the welfare of their families.  I wanted to depict how difficult it must have been for Christian men to square with their consciences the taking of lives of actual, wholly visible human beings.

 

###

 

A half-mile east of Meriam’s Corner, where the road reached the top of Brooks Hill, Sudbury militiamen waited. The column would draw fire initially from Captain Cudworth's company. Captain Wheeler’s militiamen would pursue the column’s rear guard down the hill toward Tanner’s Brook.

 

The two companies had begun their thirteen-mile trek to Brooks Hill shortly after 9 a.m. Upon hearing the muster call thirty minutes earlier, Deliverance Parmenter had left his oxen and plow in his back field and gone directly to the Common, his older son Oliver accompanying him. After Parmenter had been told that Lexington militiamen had been killed and that his company would retaliate, Oliver had wanted to take part.

 

“No, son, you’ll be going home!”

 

Seated beneath a large beech tree one hundred feet from the Brooks house and another hundred feet from the family tavern, Parmenter flexed first his left and then his right knee. He drew the back of his right hand roughly across his mouth. Their leave-taking had been difficult, nearly as difficult as was this waiting.

 

Their conversation had been contentious. What Oliver had said near the close of it, though, had gratified him. Needing to savor his boy’s words, Parmenter recalled their exchange.

 

Ordered home, Oliver, nearly thirteen, the oldest of Parmenter’s four children, had refused to budge.

 

“Should the Lord see fit t’take me,” Parmenter had said, ignoring Oliver’s petulance, “you’ll be obliged t’take my place. You’re close t’being old enough. Your uncles will help, but being they have families, they won’t be wanting to and having that much time.”

 

“I want t’go with you!”

 

“Oliver.”

 

“I want t’go! Thaddeus can do it!”

 

“Thaddeus is seven. Your mother is five months forward with child. You’re being foolish! I need you at home!”

 

 

Regretting his harsh tone, Parmenter had tried to put a hand on the boy's shoulder. Oliver had stepped away.

 

Angered, Parmenter had declared, “What do you think happens in battle?! Men get killed! Without meaning to! Without expecting to! Who am I t’declare who the Lord might protect?! Keeping you at home keeps you safe!”

 

Oliver had then looked at him directly, briefly, his stubborn expression gone.

 

“Say the worst happens. Your mother’d be blaming me. Hating me! I’d be hating myself!”

 

Head down, Oliver had kicked at an embedded stone.

 

“I must depend on you.”

 

“I want t’fight the redcoats!”

 

“Have my words been wasted on you?!”

 

“No sir.” Rolling the stone with the sole of his shoe, he had murmured, “I just ... want t’be with you.”

 

His son’s declaration of love had moved him. For several seconds he had been unable to speak. Embarrassed, hiding his affection, he had eventually said, “I’m that certain I’ll take care of myself.”

 

By then Captain Wheeler had come out of the Meeting House. The men in the road had begun forming evenly spaced ranks.

 

“As for your fighting the British,” Parmenter had said to placate Oliver, “the time may come.” Seeing the Captain engaged in conversation, he had said more. “I fear what is happening today will be war. I’ve never known a quick war. The war with the French -- near the end of it you were just a baby -- lasted seven years.” Studying his son, approving of him, he had concluded, “About this fighting today, what it’s going t’mean. I’m hoping for your sake, and for a lot more reasons, I’m wrong!”

 

Sustained by the camaraderie of his friends and neighbors, his conversation with Oliver, and the conviction that fighting the King’s army was necessary and just, Parmenter had managed initially to control his fear. Subsequent talk within the company that redcoat flankers were clearing all fields and woods had brought it hurtling back. The Captain’s consequent deployment of a dozen men to protect the company’s rear and left flank had not helped him.

 

There was no way he could control what was about to happen!

 

Other weighty concerns were afflicting him.

 

Could he square with his conscience his killing of a man? Despite his reasoned justification, despite the hostility he felt toward these foreign invaders, he could not be certain. Taking a life was the gravest of sins.

 

There was also the Lord’s purpose to construe. Parmenter did not subscribe to the belief that because Massachusetts’s cause was just that God would intercede. The Lord intervened only to administer His will! How could he be sure about anything?

 

For Parmenter, for each Sudbury man in the woods at the top of Brooks Hill, time had neither hurried nor hesitated. When Cudworth's company fired its first volley, Parmenter, a meticulous person, noted the minute. 1:02 p.m. What will be the exact time when I, too, sight on a man? he thought.

 

On the road from Sudbury he had called upon his respect of ancestry to justify his participation. He, his seven brothers, and his three sisters were the fifth generation of his immediate family to have lived in Sudbury, the immigrant ancestor John having settled in 1639. Like his forebearers, a man of principle, Deliverance Parmenter adhered to immutable beliefs.

 

Foremost was his conviction that the land he possessed was his, his alone! At great sacrifice the immigrant progenitor, John Parmenter, had earned the land, in perpetuity. That sacrifice and that which subsequent generations had contributed neither an avaricious cabinet nor an autocratic king could abrogate! Ownership of land was the foundation of a man’s essence. Recent encroachments by the Crown and Parliament -- the denial of self-representation, the curtailment of individual livelihood -- had been an attack on the inherent components of ownership. With moral certainty Deliverance Parmenter would defend his ancestors’ legacy and his family’s providence to the furthest extremity!

 

Firing repeatedly from behind his tree trunk, Parmenter fulfilled his obligation. For a good two minutes, having pursued the column’s rear guard halfway down the hill, he marveled at the denouement of his defense of ancestral entitlement.

 

Holding to his convictions, he had surely killed a man!

 

Notwithstanding, the Lord had shielded him!

 

At home, in the presence of his wife and children, he would extol his Heavenly Protector; privately, he would seek His absolution. Thereafter, he would strive to embody each day, as he had most of his years past, each of his Savior’s teachings (Titus 289-292).

 

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Who were Deliverance and Oliver Parmenter, who were their (and my) ancestors in America, and what became of them?  Genealogical study frequently reveals interesting information.

 

The oldest Parmenter to settle in Massachusetts Colony was John Parmenter, born in the parish of Little Yeldham, Essex County, England, a short distance from the Suffolk parish of Sudbury, probably in 1588.  He, his wife Bridget, his daughter Mary, and his son John emigrated to New England in 1639.  They were among the first settlers of the town of Sudbury in Massachusetts Bay Colony (the town’s name derived from the fact that a few of its settlers – John Parmenter included – had lived in or near Sudbury Parish in England).  John was a member of the committee appointed to lay out property lands of the new community.   He was a proprietor and a selectman, a commissioner to settle minor conflicts, and a deacon of the Sudbury church.  After his wife Bridget died April 6, 1660, he moved to Roxbury, where he marred twice-widowed Annis (Bayford) (Chandler) Dane.  John died in Roxbury May 1, 1671, at the age of 83.  His son John remained in Sudbury.  John II died April 12, 1666, five years before his father.  Here is the direct line of descendents from John II to Deliverance and Oliver Parmenter.

 

John Parmenter II, born Dec. 15, 1612, Little Yeldam, Suffolk, England; died April 12, 1666, Sudbury, Massachusetts Colony.  6 children.  Lived 53 years

George Parmenter I, born Feb. 14, 1646/47, Sudbury; died October 26, 1727, Sudbury.  8 children.  Lived 80 years 

George Parmenter II, born May 5, 1679, Sudbury; died October 27, 1727, Sudbury, one day after his father’s death.  6 children.  Lived 48 years

Deliverance Parmenter I, born Dec. 15, 1709, Sudbury; died 1785, Sudbury.  6 children.  Lived 75 years

Deliverance Parmenter II, born May 6, 1744, Sudbury; died 1780, probably Sudbury.  7 children.  Lived 36 years

Oliver Parmenter, born October 12, 1762, Sudbury; died June 14, 1841, Moriah, New York.  4 children.  Lived 78 years

 

Epidemics of smallpox and other European diseases, carried by European explorers, fur traders, and fishermen in the 1500s and early 1600s, had decimated Native American populations throughout New England.  Indian population, consequently, was sparse near Sudbury when it was founded.  Sudbury became the third permanent inland (above the flow of tidewater from the Atlantic Ocean) settlement in the Massachusetts Bay Colony.  (The first inland settlement was Concord and the second Dedham)  Even though relations with local tribes remained quiescent for several decades, three reasons explain why Sudbury was believed by many settlers to be at risk.  There was no possibility of escape by ship if evacuation was necessary; emergency resources were about 10 hours away in the Boston area; and wilderness predominated beyond the southern and western borders of the town.  The first occupants of Sudbury settled intentionally in what would become the eastern part of the town.  The Sudbury River flowed through it from south to north, providing the eastern section some measure of protection from potential Indian attack. 

 

King Philip’s War raged throughout New England from June 1665 to August 1666.  Over half of nearly 100 towns were damaged or destroyed.  The loss of life and property was greatest in the frontier settlements.  This was particularly true of towns west of Sudbury, including its neighbor town Marlborough.  Sudbury was attacked April 21, 1666, by substantial forces.  Many attackers and defenders were killed.  A majority of the defenders were soldiers sent to Sudbury from other settlements.  Loss of life and destruction of property was greatest west of the Sudbury River, although most of the residents there were able to escape to fortified houses stocked with food, water, weapons, ammunition, and gunpowder.  These houses were defended for many hours.  East of the Sudbury River, the town militia and soldiers from other towns were able to drive off the attackers.  Late in the day, Indian warriors west of the River withdrew to their base camp northwest of Marlborough.  The battle at Sudbury proved to be a turning point of King Philip’s War.  Thereafter, elsewhere Indian forces consistently lost battles.  Deprived of food, weapons, ammunition, and gunpowder -- which they had attempted to seize in their attacks – their leaders killed or captured, King Philip’s warriors eventually stopped their assaults

 

Sudbury’s population in 1775 was 2,160.  Nearly all of the male adult population (about 500) volunteered to fight at some point in time during the Revolutionary War.  More than 350 of them were experienced soldiers, having served at least once during the French and Indian War.

 

Charles A. Bemis wrote the following about Deliverance Parmenter in his book “History of the Town of Marlborough,” published in 1881.  “Deliverance, Jr. was a zealous patriot.  On the memorable 19^th of April, 1775, he was ploughing in the field near his house when the news reached him of the battle of Lexington and Concord.  He immediately unyoked his oxen, drove them into his yard, and with gun in hand started on the run to meet the British.  He was at the battle of Bunker Hill and remained in the service until October, when he returned home.  The following spring he again enlisted, and remained in the army three years” (Bemis 597).

 

My great grandfather, Edwin B. Titus, wrote this entry, dated July 22, 1874, in his journal.

 

“Charles A. Bemis

P.O. Box 85

Marlborough

Cheshire Co. N.H.

A cousin of my mothers side.  A new cousin just heard from.  He writes to learn about the Parmenter family as he wishes to make a record of all he can learn of them.  His mother is cousin of my mother.  [Edwin’s mother was Mary Parmenter, daughter of Oliver Parmenter]  Glad to hear from them as I have never known many of my Mothers relatives.” 

 

At the back of his journal Edwin listed Oliver Parmenter’s children and the children of Oliver’s brother Noah Parmenter.

 

Bemis’s book is full of names and accounts of former citizens of Marlborough, New Hampshire.  We can assume that his information about Deliverance Parmenter was obtained from Parmenter’s descendent relatives and is probably accurate.  However, I must tell you the following.

 

Maybe 15 years ago I requested information about Deliverance and Oliver Parmenter from the National Archives in Washington, D.C.  I received information about Oliver and a copy of a letter written by Mr. Ralph M. Stoughton of Turners Falls, Massachusetts, dated December 17, 1935.  Mr. Stoughton had requested “the record of Deliverance Parmenter, Junior, of Sudbury, Massachusetts, whose widow, Mary Osborne Parmenter, lived in Marlboro, New Hampshire, and drew a pension on account of the services of her husband in the Revolutionary War …” The archive official who responded stated that no record had been found that a claim for a pension or bounty had been made.  Such claims for pensions had been authorized by an act of Congress June 7, 1832.  As I previously stated, Deliverance died in 1780.  The date of Deliverance Parmenter’s widow’s death is unknown.  Because she was born in 1742, she would have had to live past the age of 90 to have been able to file a claim.  It is logical to assume that no record of Deliverance’s service in the Revolutionary War exists in the National Archives because no claim for a pension could have been made.

 

Mr. Stoughton did receive information about Deliverance’s son, Oliver.  Seventy-one years old, he was living in Moriah [near Lake Champlain], Essex County, New York, when his claim for a pension was granted June 21, 1834.  He received thereafter $22.42 annually.  He died in Moriah June 14, 1841. 

 

I obtained the following information about Oliver Parmenter from the National Archives response to Mr. Stoughton’s letter, Massachusetts Soldiers and Sailors of the Revolutionary War, and Charles A. Bemis’s book.

 

Not yet 18, Oliver volunteered August 1, 1780, to serve three months in Captain Brintnal’s company of Colonel Howe’s Massachusetts regiment.  He was marched to Rhode Island where on Butts Hill he helped build a fort.  He enlisted in Captain Daniel Bowker’s company of Colonel Webb’s Massachusetts regiment August 27, 1781.  He served in New York for several days at Verplank’s Point before being moved to Gallows Hill.  His regiment remained there several weeks before being marched to the Highlands.  Thereafter, Oliver was detached with other privates to Fish Kiln to cut wood.  At about the ninth day of December he was dismissed, having served his three months term, and traveled 200 miles home.  There is no indication in his records of his having experienced combat.

 

In 1783 Oliver moved to Bernardston (in western Massachusetts five miles south of the New Hampshire border) to live near his father’s brother, Jason Parmenter.  He stayed there 7 years.  Probably a year or two before he left Bernardston Oliver married Jason’s daughter, Cynthia Parmenter.  On April 14, 1790, Oliver made this public declaration: “Whereas Cynthia, the wife of me the Subscriber, has in violation of her marriage covenant, withdrawn herself from my bed and board and unjustly and without cause refuses to live with me and whereas by her unfaithful behavior I have reason to fear she will endeavor to injure my interests by contracting debts on my account I hereby notify and warn all persons against harboring or giving her any credit for any matter whatever on my account, as I will not pay any demands made against me on her account” (Messer 1).  Oliver and Cynthia were first cousins.  No divorce proceedings were advertised.  Later, both had other spouses. 

 

Oliver moved to Marlborough, New Hampshire, (approximately 50 miles by road from Bernardston) where he worked for a short while for his oldest brother Thaddeus.  He purchased a lot of wild land in the north part of town and located his house on a knoll.  He lived there 3 years.  On April 4, 1793, he married Vianna Fay of Athol, Massachusetts, who soon afterward died.  Having made little improvement on his land, he disposed of it and moved approximately another 50 miles to Springfield, Vermont, where a second brother, Noah Parmenter, resided.  Oliver married Nancy McIntire (I have not been able to find any information about her) probably in 1795.  Living in the Parker Hill section of Springfield 34 years, they produced four children.  Oliver and Nancy moved to Moriah in upstate New York shortly after 1830.  Nancy died there July 3, 1831.  Their daughter Mary married my great great grandfather, Russell L. Titus, a resident of Moriah, probably that same year.  Oliver died June 14, 1841. 

 

Living close to his son and daughter-in-law was the Revolutionary War and War of 1812 soldier, John Titus.  I will tell you about him in my next post.

 

Works cited:

 

Bemis, Charles A.  History of the Town of Marlborough: Cheshire County, New Hampshire.  Press of Geo. H. Ellis, Boston, 1881.  Print.

 

Messer, Don.  “Re:PARMENTER, Jason, Deliverance MA.”  Geneology.com. March 2, 1999.  http://genforum.genealogy.com/parmenter/messages/171.html.  November 29, 2014.  Web.

 

Titus, Harold.  Crossing the River.  BookLocker.com, Inc., 2011.  Print.              



Review

"The Legend of Mickey Tussler"

by Frank Nappi

 

What elevates “The Legend of Mickey Tussler” by Frank Nappi from the status of good baseball story to excellent work of fiction is the author’s use of baseball as a metaphor for human aspirations and relationships. Mr. Nappi’s story, which takes place after World War II, has its villains and its beloved, vulnerable characters and an assortment of individuals capable to displaying varied degrees of empathy when their individual needs and ambitions are not interfered with. Failure is determined sometimes -- like a broken-bat single or a homerun hooked suddenly foul -- by chance but more often by selfish, powerful people. Epitomized by baseball manager Arthur Murphy, an aspiring person struggles against adversity and endures setbacks but does not give up. He must find like-minded souls (Molly, Mickey Tussler’s mother) to sustain him and, possessing empathy, he looks beyond himself to shield the vulnerable (the Asperger’s Syndrome farm boy Mickey).

The baseball aspect of Mr. Nappi’s story is excellent. The lingo is familiar; the characters are believable; the pennant race is exciting; the author’s knowledge of the game is clear-cut. Readers are rewarded for this reason alone.

However, it is the author’s writing skills that mostly make this book special. Mr. Nappi has done everything I hope to see a talented writer utilize.

Sharp sensory detail that establishes character presence: “Clarence [Mickey’s abusive father] stood leaning against a gray stone mantel, adorned with a yellowing lace doily held in place by an old brass lantern. Next to that was a family portrait in a tarnished frame and a dusty clarinet. Arthur’s eyes hurt, as if something acerbic were in the air. It smelled like cat urine or perhaps it was just mold spores. Either way, he could not stop rubbing his eyes.”

Visual detail interspersed with economical, purposeful dialogue: “‘Baseball?’ he mocked. ‘You want Mickey to play baseball? Now, what in tarnation is a baseball team gonna do with a retard? Huh?’

‘I don’t understand.’

The farmer was scratching his head. His amusement brought forth a smile, foul and yellow.

‘What my husband meant to say, Mr. Murphy, is that Mickey is a little –‘

‘I said exactly what I meant to say, woman,’ Clarence barked, raising his hand in mock attack. ‘Don’t you be correcting me. He’s a retard.’”

Back stories to add dimension to secondary characters: “McGinty [the shortstop] was definitely the best fit for Mickey. His dad had died when Elliot was just eleven years old. Consequently, young Elliot became responsible for looking out for his mom and his younger sister, Emily, who was born with a degenerative hearing condition that had rendered her deaf by age four. The little girl struggled, drifting through life diffidently, unable to keep pace in a world that moved too swiftly and carelessly to allow for her needs.”

Subjective narration that communicates abstractions: “She [Molly] had survived all these years by not focusing on the vast parameters of the world at large but on what was immediately around her. It usually worked. She could lose herself in the mixing of animal feed or the husking of corn. … But occasionally, this vapid existence preyed upon her more tender sensibilities, awakened now and again by glimpses of what could have been, and she cried out in painful protest for the life she really desired but had yet to cultivate.”

Theme: “‘And there’s always another at bat. A chance to redeem yourself. You could be washed-up one day, and a hero the next. Truly. Nobody is tied to their fate.’ … Once again, it appeared, time and events had conspired against him. He was being played with, manipulated by a capricious wind blowing him everywhere. … Murph shrugged his shoulders, as if to suggest that it didn’t really matter. But in the darkest, most remote corner of his soul, hanging restlessly from a single strand of sticky filament like an anxious spider, was the unmitigated, undeniable truth.”

Story, depth of character, social commentary, and writer skill justify this five-star rating.  

"God Is My Protector"

Pages 364-366

 

       Hannah Adams heard them burst open her front door. Upstairs in her curtained bed, scrunched in the fetal position, she implored her merciful Protector.

       Foremost in her entreaties was her infant daughter, Ann, asleep in Joseph’s handcrafted crib.

       She had pleaded for her husband’s and her older children’s safety; they had left the house; it was Ann now who needed her Lord’s protection!

       Her anguished husband had departed minutes ago, breaking his pledge to remain beside her.

       “Joseph, if you stay, they will kill you!” she had declared. “Go! Safeguard the children! I’m feverish, too weak. Hide in Reverend Cooke's hayloft. Go!”

       “I’ll not leave you!”

       “They’ll see I’m helpless. They’ll spare me. The Lord is with us.”

       She had watched him redirect his eyes, seen him move peculiarly his head.

       She had pressed her advantage. “You must pray for me, Joseph. Let us do what we can for ourselves and pray for the Lord’s intercession!”

       Turning his back, he had hidden his anguish.

       Watching him, she had felt a nascent resentment.

       “No time, Joseph. Do not delay! Leave! Now!”

       He had stood at the doorway, staring, a full thirty seconds. Making a choking sound, he had closed the door behind him. Listening to his footsteps on the stairway, she had beseeched again the All-Mighty Creator.

       Now her brutalizers, despoilers -- murderers? -- were ascending the stairs.

       She heard on the landing preparatory footfalls.

       The door, thrust open, slammed against the wall.

       Three soldiers rushed into the room. Heads swiveling, they inspected.

       One approached.

       Using his steel blade, he parted the curtains. He pressed the point of his bayonet against her left breast.

       “I have children!” she cried. “God is my protector! He will punish you!” She gripped the blade.

       “Damn you!”

       He glared.

       “We will not hurt the woman,” she heard a second soldier declare. “But she must leave the house. Immediately. For we shall burn it.” The soldier positioned himself at the opposite side of the bed. “Is that not the way of it, private?” he said, authoritatively.

       Muttering an oath, the first soldier stepped back.

       Hannah raised herself to a sitting position. She extricated her legs from her twisted bed sheets, placed her feet on the bare floor. Adrenaline enabled her to rise, enabled her to correct a sudden wobble. Reaching, she grasped and pulled to her chest the top blanket. Across the room, a bit dizzy, dropping the blanket, she gathered up her wailing child.

       Leaving the front door, she sank to a sitting position. Having secured every ounce of her ebbing strength, her infant clasped underneath her chest, grunting, she began the fifty-foot crawl to the door of the family corn-house.

       Reaching it, turning her body, she saw that soldiers had entered neighbor Jason Russell’s house. He, his wife, and their daughters, having had the sense to leave hours ago, were safe! Was Joseph safe? Were her children? He had sent them off to the Reverend Cooke! Had they been taken? She thought not. She was far less confident about him.

       She strained to hear the sounds of her house’s immolation. Why were they pillaging, burning, murdering?

       She heard the raised voice of her nine-year-old son Joel! Joel had returned!

       She prayed. She begged. She offered herself in his stead.

       Sensing change, she looked through the corn-house doorway. The last of the soldiers had moved beyond her house. Townspeople were following them.

       There, peering out the doorway of her house was Joel! Her impetuous Joel!

       Two men carrying buckets, heeding the gesturing boy, were hurrying to the door.



Teaching -- Common Core Backlash

 

In a previous posting I stated that if I were teaching today, I would leave the profession.  One of my reasons is the imposition of Common Core upon public schools.

 

I have read that Common Core is a compilation of national standards designed by “education experts” -- the National Governors Association, the Council of Chief State School Officers, Achieve, and Student Achievement Partners: all non-governmental groups paid for by the Gates Foundation -- to generate high student achievement in math and language arts.   It is part of President Obama’s “Race to the Top” program, which provides financial assistance to states willing to accept specific requirements such as annual standardized testing to be used to measure teacher effectiveness, the closure of failing public schools, and the expansion of charter schools.  43 states currently have signed on to Race to the Top and Common Core, including my home state Oregon. 

 

Advocates of Common Core declare that elementary and secondary school students will be required to develop a deeper knowledge of math, reading, and written expression, to think more critically, and to apply their enhanced knowledge and skills to real world problems.  This year every state that has accepted Common Core will subject its public school students to as much as 10 hours of rigorous testing to determine how many of them meet the Core standards. 

 

Critics of Race to the Top and Common Core are spokespeople of a growing public backlash.  Teachers' unions and educators state that standardized tests are an inaccurate way to measure teacher effectiveness.  Too many factors inside and outside the school are beyond an individual teacher’s ability to address.  This reality has been ignored.  High-stakes testing, which invite teaching to the test, is by its nature unreliable.  Such education reforms -- pushed by corporate foundations headed most notably by Bill Gates, the Walton family, and the Board family – are agenda-driven, critics say, and unproven.  Political motivation wafts.  “ALEC [the American Legislative Exchange Council] has been ghostwriting bills and passing them out to astroturf organizations around the country to put forward legislation that undermines teachers' unions and helps in this effort to restructure education based on test scores,” Jesse Hagopian, a teacher and union activist in Seattle, Washington, has declared (Blaskey and Horn 1).   

 

As many as 70 percent of Oregon students taking this year’s rigorous Common Core-based tests (for the first time) are expected to fail.  One critic, University of Oregon education professor Jerry Rosiek, whose third-grade daughter is in the Eugene School District, states that standardized tests exacerbate a culture of teaching to the test.  “The tests detract from the quality of education she’s getting.  They require resources and time, and they narrow the curriculum” (Woolington A10).  Moreover, the Eugene school district hasn’t been provided enough time for its instructors to teach the more rigorous curriculum.  Rosiek believes students shouldn’t have to struggle for hours taking a test for which they are not prepared and which will cause them unnecessary anxiety.  The primary beneficiary of high-stakes, mandatory standardized tests, Rosiek maintains, is publishing companies that sell books to prepare students for the tests.  These tests also allow politicians to divert public attention away from the real causes of poor student academic achievement: poverty, the destruction of the core family, and the underfunding of public education.

 

More and more parents across the country are choosing to have their children opt out of taking the Core tests.  States allow parents to do this on religious grounds or to protect their learning disabled children.  Eugene parent Heather Kliever has stated that opting out is the only effective way to challenge the tests because district leaders and school board members, she believes, have not looked critically at the tests.  Her eleven-year-old sixth grade son Alden qualified for the state’s Talented and Gifted programs.  He will be opting out of the Common Core tests.  He has his own views on the matter.  Many of his peers will try to avoid going to school on the day of the tests.  He doesn’t understand the point of them.  His teachers give him frequent quizzes or exams to evaluate what he knows.  “Regular tests are fine.  But just having tests on a computer that takes multiple hours and days, I think it’s a waste of money” (Woolington A10).

 

Diane Ravitch, a former U.S. Assistant Secretary of Education and Research Professor of Education at New York University, agrees.  “Frankly, the idea of subjecting third graders to an eight-hour exam is repugnant, as is the prospect of a 10-hour exam for high school students, as is the absurd [projected] idea of testing children in kindergarten, first, and second grades. All of these tests will be accompanied by test prep and interim exams and periodic exams. This is testing run amok, and the biggest beneficiary will be the testing industry, certainly not students.

 

“Students don't become smarter or wiser or more creative because of testing. Instead, all this testing will deduct as much as a month of instruction for testing and preparation for testing. In addition, states will spend tens of millions, hundreds of millions, or even more, to buy the technology and bandwidth necessary for the Common Core testing … The money spent for Common Core testing means there will be less money to reduce class sizes, to hire arts teachers, to repair crumbling buildings, to hire school nurses, to keep libraries open and staffed, and to meet other basic needs.  States are cutting the budget for schools at the same time that the Common Core is diverting huge sums for new technology, new textbooks, new professional development, and other requirements to prepare for the Common Core.”

 

The sooner Common Core testing dies, “the sooner schools and teachers will be freed of the Giant Federal Accountability Plan hatched in secret and foisted upon our nation's schools. And when it does die, teachers will have more time to do their job and to use their professional judgment to do what is best for each student” (Ravitch 1).

 

Meanwhile, many veteran teachers, like I would, will leave the profession.

 

Sources cited:

 

Blaskey, Sarah and Horn, Steven.  “The Other ALECs’ K12 Education Agenda Exposed.”  Truthout.  July 25, 2012.   Web.  November 8, 2014.

 

Ravitch, Diane.  “Good Riddance to Common Core Testing.”  The Blog: Huff Post Education.  July 3, 2014.  Web.  November 8, 2014  

 

Woolington, Josephine.  “Core Meltdown.” The Register-Guard.  October 26, 2014: A1.  Print.



Lieutenant-Colonel Hugh, Earl Percy -- "Contumacious Arrogance"

 

 

At the Great Bridge in Cambridge rebel forces, mostly from villages north and south of Boston, waited.  Hugh, Earl Percy, having that morning encountered the removal of the bridge’s planks, recognized that they had set a trap.  He would pretend to enter it.  He would send his flanker units through Cambridge ahead of the column as if to clear its way to the bridge.  The column would turn left onto a country lane and then onto a secondary road.  It would turn left again onto the Cambridge-Charlestown road northeast of Cambridge and march toward Charlestown.  The flanker companies would reverse direction, reach the Charlestown road, and hurry toward the rear of the retreating column.

 

Percy executed his feint; his flanker companies drew fire; his column reached the Cambridge-Charlestown road.  "This sudden change of direction, and the brilliant use of an obscure and unexpected road, took the New England men by surprise. It broke the circle of fire around Percy's brigade” (Fischer 259).   Staring down the empty road toward the distant bridge, an aide to Lieutenant Frederick MacKenzie, Percy’s Adjutant-General, exclaimed, “We threw them!”

 

Several miles out of Cambridge the column ascended Prospect Hill, the last location where militia units were assembled.  "Percy advanced his cannon to the front of his column, and cleared the hill with a few well-placed rounds. It was the last of his ammunition for the artillery” (Fischer 260).  The exhausted column resumed its march.  It reached the safety of Breeds and Bunker Hills, outside Charlestown, in near darkness.  Gage’s men were ferried across the Charles River to Boston.  Safe in their barracks, they had considerable cause to reflect on their misuse and survival and to give credit and place blame where they believed it to be due.  As must have Hugh, Earl Percy.  From “Crossing the River”:

 

             In the hearts and minds of his officers, arthritic Lieutenant Colonel Hugh, Earl Percy, exhibiting extraordinary wisdom and courage, deserved full credit for the army’s deliverance.

     To the exhausted soldiers in the darkness of Charlestown Square Percy was but one more horse-hauled Merry-Andrew who had placed everybody at death’s door. That night, secure in their barracks, jack-coves of every type would praise themselves for their survival. Some would thank Lord God the Protector. A few, not the least intelligent, would credit Lady Luck.

     Percy’s criticism -- analytical, evidential -- was inwardly directed.

     It vexed him that he, less condescending, less biased than his peers in his judgment of the English commoner, had, like his peers, disdained the militia.

     Their shared hubris had come within a hair’s width of costing General Gage a third of his garrison!

     Beginning with Colonel Smith’s retreat the provincials had fought independently from behind stone walls, trees, and boulders. They had fired their weapons from the windows and doorways of countless houses. Using their numerical strength on Menotomy’s broad plain, they had just about overwhelmed him. When he had turned his army away from their strength at the Great Bridge, outlying militiamen at Prospect Hill had conducted a gallant assault. Because they had demonstrated provocatively their willingness to fight without protective cover, he had had to presume their willingness to attack him similarly here.

     How narrowly he had evaded disaster! He had used the last of his cannon balls to fight his way beyond Prospect Hill. Prior to his departure from Boston he had issued but twenty-four cartridges per soldier. He had eschewed taking the ammunition wagon. His unconscionable bias had imperiled all.

     Had the provincials massed their companies along the Charlestown road instead of at the Great Bridge, they would have vanquished him. That they had not done so he attributed to diffused leadership. He doubted that any one rebel officer had had the authority to enforce such a decision. That failing would be rectified.

     How blatantly shortsighted had been his appraisal. In one day he had been taught a lesson that officialdom in London and officers of general rank might never comprehend. The King’s policy, which Parliament had enacted and he had opposed, had abjectly failed. He and all loyal countrymen could not rectify its disastrous consequence if they did not first quell their leadership’s contumacious arrogance.

     The clattering of hooves on the Square’s cobblestone ended Percy’s introspection. Having prefatorily saluted, the courier offered the sealed envelope. Percy hastily read General Gage’s message.

 

     “My Lord, Gen. Pigot will pass over with a reinforcement and fresh ammunition.            The boats which carry him may return with the grenadiers and light infantry who must be most fatigued, and the wounded. I propose sending over Capt. Montresor immediately with intrenching tools to throw up a sort of redoubt on the hill, and to leave 200 men and guns on it, and if it's advisable during the course of the night, to bring your Lordship's men over. The fresh brigade may carry on the works. Fresh ammunition has been ordered long ago.”

 

           The message raised the gate. A torrent of needs issued forth. He wanted to sit for awhile in a comfortable chair. He wanted delivered to his hands his favorite wine. He wanted hot food prepared by his Boston chef. He wanted to luxuriate in a warm tub. He wanted to rest his exhausted body between freshly laundered sheets (Titus 388-389).

 

Percy’s regiment fought June 17, 1775, in the Battle of Bunker Hill.  Recognizing the stupidity of General Gage subordinate William Howe’s planned frontal assault on the rebel fortifications on Breeds Hill, Percy refused to participate.  He would write to a friend that his brigade had “almost entirely been cut to pieces.”  In October General Gage was recalled to London.  Much to Percy’s dismay, General Howe replaced him.

 

On March 5, 1776, despite his expressed opposition, Percy was given the command of two thousand four hundred men to attack rebel cannon that George Washington had positioned on Dorchester Heights hours earlier in the dark of night.  Unbeknownst to the British, the cannon had been transported by sleds to Boston from Fort Ticonderoga, New York.  Informed tardily of their arrival, General Howe had not immediately acted, believing that one night’s fortification by the enemy could do little to forestall his assault the following day.  “When morning light revealed the strength and extent of their defenses, a British army engineer expressed his astonishment.  Such works, in his opinion, could not have been built by less than 15,000 or 20,000 men.”  Howe’s reaction had been to “attack at once before the defenses became impregnable and Boston, in consequence, too exposed to hold” (Smith 651).  The soldiers assigned to carry the works, anticipating a second Breed’s Hill, were loaded into boats at dusk, but a violent storm that evening prevented them from being rowed across the river.  The next day, taking the advice of his senior officers, General Howe canceled the attack order, deciding instead to leave the city.

 

Promoted thereafter a division commander, Percy participated in Washington’s expulsion from New York City in July 1776.  On November 16, 1776, Percy directed the capture of Fort Washington, at the northern tip of Manhattan Island.  Weeks later, serving under General Henry Clinton, Percy took part in the uncontested occupation of Newport, Rhode Island.  He remained in Newport for five months.

 

The antipathy that Howe and Percy felt for each other climaxed over a dispute about how much hay Howe’s horses in New Jersey were to be allotted.  Howe’s logistics major and Percy disagreed about the necessary amount.  Taking the major’s estimation, Howe reprimanded Percy.  (The major’s estimate would prove to be incorrect)  Percy was furious that Howe had chosen to accept the judgment of a mere major, not that of a higher ranking officer, a peer, and the heir to a dukedom.  Percy requested leave to sail to England.  Howe granted it.  Having inherited his mother’s barony in December and thereafter elevated to the House of Lords, he never returned.

 

An exceptionally generous person, Percy had been esteemed by his regiment.  Unlike most officers of his time, he had opposed corporal punishment.  He had involved himself directly in the provisioning and victualing of his men.  He had sent home at his own expense the widows of his soldiers killed at Breed’s Hill.  Later, he had provided them financial assistance.  Succeeding his father in 1786 as the Duke of Northumberland, he earned notoriety for his generosity as a landlord.  Twice each week he invited his tenants and local tradespeople to his social gatherings at Alnwick Castle, his place of residence.  When corn prices fell in 1815, he reduced his tenants’ rent by 25 percent. 

 

Two years after his return to England, Parliament permitted Percy to divorce his wife, Lady Anne Crichton-Stuart, on grounds of adultery.  On May 23 of the same year, 1779, he married Frances Julia Burrell, with whom he parented six daughters and three sons.  Despite his family connections, he never succeeded in politics.  Initially, he supported Prime Minister William Pitt, but, complaining that he had not been properly rewarded for his services in America, he sided eventually with the opposition.  In May 1801, he became a knight of the Order of the Garter.  Suffering during his final years from frequent and excessive gout, he died July 10, 1817.  He was buried in the Northumberland vault within Westminster Abbey.

 

How might have the course of the Revolutionary War been changed had Percy, not William Howe, been General Thomas Gage’s replacement?

 

Works Cited:

 

Fischer, David Hackett.  Paul Revere’s Ride.  New York: Oxford University Press, 1994.  Print.

 

Smith, Page.  A New Age Now Begins.  Vol. One.  New York: McGraw-Hill Book Company, 1976.  Print.

 

Titus, Harold.  Crossing the River.  BookLocker.com, Inc., 2011.  Print.



Interview

 

Ognian Georgiev, a sports journalist and sports editor of the “Bulgaria Today” daily newspaper, posted this interview of me October 25 on his web page: http://ogigeorgiev.wordpress.com/2014/10/25/harold-titus-crossing-the-river-took-me-17-years/.  Thank you, Ognian, for your consideration.

 

 

Harold Titus published his book Crossing the River three years ago. The history novel received very positive feedback (av. 4.4 stars from 10 Amazon reviews). We are very happy that the author was kind to tell us something more about his writings.

 

What is your book Crossing the River about?
 Crossing the River is about the singular experiences of both famous historical figures and ordinary people engaged April 19, 1775, in frightful combat. It is about why British Commanding General Thomas Gage was compelled to send an army of 700 redcoats out of Boston to Concord to seize and destroy illegally stored gunpowder, cannon, and military supplies and why the colony’s rebellious Provincial Congress wanted to confront him. It is about major and minor mistakes made by both sides, bloodshed at Lexington, courage, stupidity, honor, callousness, fear, rage, empathy, selfishness, and senseless slaughter. It is a portrayal of all aspects of human nature. It is a detailed, accurate depiction of the Battles of Lexington and Concord and the fierce combat that occurred during the British army’s harrowing retreat to Charlestown, told through the viewpoints of its participants. It is a story about crossing the river, about not being able to turn back, about individual beings choosing to risk all to attempt to obtain great reward.

 

How did you decide to write the story?
 I am a retired eighth grade English and American history teacher. I love historical fiction. I was provided by my school district the early retirement opportunity to write student reading material about major historical events. I knew enough about the details of the Battles of Lexington and Concord to recognize certain elements that eighth grade readers would find fascinating. I wrote a 100 plus page manuscript that was too much summary, not enough character development, too little subjective narration, and inadequate dialogue. I decided to expand the novel to make better use of information I had obtained about participants in the battles. I wanted to do serious writing. I wanted to employ the techniques used by excellent writers of fiction, skills I had observed as a literature teacher. I wanted to challenge myself. 17 years later I submitted a 413 page manuscript for publication.

 

What was your biggest challenge during the write up process?
 Narrating action and writing dialogue are easier for me to accomplish than are communicating feelings and expressing abstract thoughts. It took me many revisions to produce the following:

 

In his study one hour each afternoon, recalling past friendships, recreating personal and professional accomplishments, Thomas Gage warded off his anxieties. Intermittently, he indulged in flight of fancy: Tom Gage, suave, virile lothario; Thomas Gage, vanquishing general/enlightened prime minister. Revitalized, he returned to his duties primed to vanquish each new outrage directed upon his competency. Once or twice every fourteen days or so his methodology of self-renewal failed him. This afternoon his apprehensions and resentments had not receded.

 

The biggest challenge, however, was the enormous, time-consuming task of turning ordinary writing into lucid, articulate expression.

 

Tell us something about your main character? Is it close to someone from your real life?
The novel has many characters. The major events of April 19, 1775, are the aggregate of their varied experiences. I enjoyed creating especially these three individuals: Lexington militiaman Simon Winsett attempts to assist a redcoat deserter while trying to resolve his neighbors’ and his family’s ill regard of him; Acton school master James Hayworth seeks to avenge the death of his dear friend and neighbor, minuteman commander Isaac Davis, and Redcoat corporal John Howe spies for General Gage and seeks to rise above his station. None of these characters resembles anybody I know personally but all possess character traits that readers easily recognize.

 

How much time did you need to finish the story and to publish it?
 It took me 17 years, spaced around other activities of my life. Crossing the River is lengthy. Writing isn’t easy. I discovered I couldn’t just “turn it on.” There were moments when my brain was working and words and phrases came to me cooperatively but more often they did not. About two hours a day at my computer was about the time I allotted myself because I knew staying at the task longer would be counterproductive. I learned not to spend much time the next day editing what I had just written but, instead, to come back to it weeks, if not months, later. Reading what I’d written with fresh eyes was a humbling, necessary experience. Like most anything people do, the longer you do something, the more you improve. I believe I am a better writer now than I was five years ago, certainly better than I was ten years ago, and definitely better than when I started.

 

Do you have another published book?
 No.

 

Who are you?
 I was born in New York State, moved to Tennessee when I was seven, and moved with my parents and sister to Southern California when I was nine. I graduated from UCLA with a bachelor’s degree in history. I taught one year in the Los Angeles City School District, was drafted into the army in 1958, moved afterward to Contra Costa County in Northern California, and taught eighth grade English 29 years, drama 6 years, and American history 6 years in suburban Orinda. I coached many of the school’s sports teams. During my teenage and middle adult years I enjoyed playing golf. I live with my wife in Florence, Oregon. For ten years I was a political activist. I am an avid fan of the San Francisco Giants and 49ers and UCLA men’s basketball.

 

What are your writing habits?
I am a planner. I follow a skeletal outline of scenes that lead in a specific direction. Crossing the River adheres to a chronological time-line: spying activity, preparations for the British expedition to Concord to destroy rebel munitions, rebel preparations to resist it, the actual events of the expedition as experienced by specific individuals (mostly real and some imagined), the immediate aftermath, again experiences of specific people. Within each scene I allowed myself to free-lance, while staying true to the accuracy of the main events.

 

In portraying an actual historical person, I limit myself to what I discern in the person’s writing or what is written about the person by contemporaries and by respected historians. (Paul Revere wrote quite a bit about his April 18-19, 1775, experiences) Imaginary characters must contribute to the overall accuracy of my portrayal of day’s historical events.

 

I usually do minor editing of every two chapters that I complete before proceeding to write new chapters. I try to sharpen the phrasing, add sensory detail, and eliminate awkward sentences, knowing well that much editing (see my answer to question #5) will remain, especially after I have completed the novel’s first draft. I believe that a well-written novel is the result of layers upon layers of revised writing.

 

Are you satisfied by the sales of the book and do you plan another one?
 I am more disappointed about reader lack of interest in the Revolutionary War than I am about sparse sales. I understand how difficult it is for an unknown novelist to inform the general public of the existence of his work. Many people don’t read books, period. Those who do usually focus on popular genres: mystery, romance, fantasy. Readers of American historical fiction seem to prefer the Civil War period and the era of World War II. Thus, my frustration.
I am writing a novel about the Algonquian natives at and near Roanoke Island from 1584 to 1586 when Englishmen first attempted to found an English colony in North America.

 

What are you doing to promote by the best possible way your book?
I have been a member of goodreads.com since the fall of 2011. I participate in group discussions, post blog entries, and write book reviews. I am a member of several other author/reader internet organizations but, because my free time is limited, I rarely participate in their discussions.

 

I maintain a blog site that features excerpts from Crossing the River, articles I have written about actual participants in the Battles of Lexington and Concord, articles about the struggles Queen Elizabeth had with internal and external enemies, explanations by historians of the disappearance of the last Roanoke colony, interviews I’ve conducted of debut American historical novelists, interviews done of me, book reviews I have done, and experiences I have had teaching school. The blog site address is http://authorharoldtitus.blogspot.com.

 

You’ve been in the army before the Vietnam War. Did you participate in the War and are you considering writing something on that theme?
 I spent two years in the army stationed all that while at Fort Ord, California. Our country was not at war. I was primarily a file clerk and messenger assigned to the classification and assignment office of the installation’s administration unit. My knowledge of military life and combat derives mostly from what I have read. There will be combat in my Roanoke novel, but it will be much different from what most readers are accustomed to reading. The novel, however, will feature the motives for war universal in any time period.

 

As a fan of basketball do you think that the generation of LeBron James, Kobe Bryant and Shaquille O’Neal is possible to be compared with the times of Michael Jordan, Magic Johnson, Larry Bird?
 Basketball players are bigger and stronger today, but basketball skills remain the same. Teamwork remains essential. There is a good reason why the San Antonio Spurs, not the Miami Heat, won the NBA championship this past year. The players you mention all played on teams that won championships not only because of their individual talents but because complimentary players on those teams did the basic essentials. Size and strength of players today would probably be the determining reason for an excellent NBA team today defeating an excellent team 20 years past.

 

Ask yourself a question (And don’t forget to answer!)
 Question: What aspect of writing do you enjoy seeing in other writers’ works that you try to emulate?
I want to see crisp dialogue with a minimum of “he said” intrusions and sensory detail that gives the reader a sense of presence and an awareness of characters’ emotions. I told my students that when they had to identify who was speaking, “Have the character do something. Then have him speak. Have both in the same paragraph. And please don’t generalize his action or tell the reader what he is feeling. Show what our eyes see, not what our mind interprets!”

 

Here is an example from my novel:

 

Captain Parsons returned. Hands clasped behind his back, he gazed at her. “My soldiers are hungry. They will pay, with coin, what you will provide. They will be kept here in the yard, well regulated. The provisions will be conveyed to them by your servants.”

 

Meliscent snorted.

 

Parsons’ eyebrows arched.

 

Jabbing her elbows against the backrest of her rocker, she scowled. “We are commanded to feed our enemies.” Her hands worked combatively. “You cannot buy good will. I will not accept your coin!”

 

Parsons stiffened. Anger colored his face. “A curious decision. Imprudent. Obstinacy thrown in the face of courtesy. Madam, you invite resentment!”

 

Her eyes castigated him.

 

From his coat pocket Parsons withdrew a shilling. Scowling, he tossed it onto the lap of her frock. A second officer, freckle-faced, exhibiting a swagger, added his own. Two nearby soldiers, observers, now approached. Parsons’ angry eyes taunted her.