"These Were Present When the Roll Was Called" - The Role of Company Clerks Within a Massachusetts Militia Company

It may come as no surprise that the Nerds are working on a new book. Entitled For God’s Sake, Fire! - The Massachusetts Militia System on the Eve of Lexington and Concord. The work, which we reluctantly hope will be released at some point in 2027, examines the historical, religious, military, and constitutional foundations of the Massachusetts militia system and how efforts were made to transform the establishment into an effective fighting force prepared to defend colonists' “English liberties” as codified in the Massachusetts Charter of 1691.

During our research, we began to find extensive information on the role of “clerks” within Massachusetts militia companies. Presumably, clerks were responsible for administrative duties, namely the keeping of muster rolls and recording the names of those men who attended drill sessions or assemblies for an alarm. A review of an account from the Reverend William Gordon in the aftermath of the Battles of Lexington and Concord supports the assumption that Daniel Harrington, clerk for Captain John Parker’s Lexington Company, was at least responsible for the role and attendance of his fellow militia men. “Before Major Pitcairn arrived at Lexington signal guns had been fired, and the bells had been rung to give the alarm: Lexington being alarmed, the train band or militia, and the alarm men (consisting of the aged and others exempted from turning out, excepting upon an alarm) repaired in general to the common, close in with the Meeting house, the usual place of parade; and these were present when the roll was called over, about one hundred and thirty of both, as I was told by Mr. Daniel Harrington, Clerk to the company, who further said, that the night being chilly, so as to make it uncomfortable being upon the parade, they having received no certain intelligence of the regulars being upon the march, and being waiting for the same, the men were dismissed to appear again at the beat of drum. Some who lived near went home, others to the public house at the corner of the common.”

However, the role of clerks was far more expansive and better aligned with that of a compliance officer than with that of an administrative servant. The origins of the clerk role in Massachusetts date back to the 17th century, when Plymouth colony revised its militia laws in 1658 and created the position. Massachusetts followed suit a little over a decade and a half later. According to mid to late 17th-century laws, the clerk was a crucial member of a militia company, responsible for inspecting soldiers’ weapons, maintaining the muster roll, and monitoring for defects, absences, or offenses during training. He collected fines for minor infractions, while recommending that more serious offenses or disobedience toward officers be prosecuted criminally. Such punishments for serious infractions included “Riding the Wooden Horse, or by Bilboes, or lying Neck and Heels,” and imprisonment. Period laws permitted company clerks to seize property for unpaid fines or recover them through debt actions before a Justice of the Peace.

Under colonial law, clerks were frequently expected to inspect the militiamen under their authority to ensure they were armed and equipped in accordance with the law, and townsmen who had been exempted from training were ordered to acquire weapons in case they were needed for military service.

By 1738, to prevent mismanagement of funds, a legislative act established strict record-keeping requirements for military clerks. 

Clerks had to maintain a dedicated ledger documenting every fine collected and each expenditure, and to present an attested copy of these accounts to their Captain each March. The funds collected were mainly used for maintaining company equipment, including drums, colors, and halberds. Any surplus at year's end was to be transferred to the Town Treasurer to buy ammunition, powder, and bullets for the town’s general stock. To enforce these administrative duties, all clerks were required to serve under oath, and those found negligent were subject to a fine of five pounds.

“A Muster Roll of the Minute Men who marched from Pittsfield to Cambridge under the Command of Capt. David Noble in Colo. Paterson’s Regiment and Returned”

 

By the eve of the French and Indian War, further revisions of Massachusetts militia laws required clerks to compile detailed lists of every individual in their company and their available equipment every six months, then submit these reports to commanding officers as required by law. This process helped the provincial government keep an accurate record of its military capacity. By the late 1760s, the importance and military capabilities of militia companies in Massachusetts had significantly declined due to the absence of an immediate French threat and an emphasis on using militia companies to advance one’s social standing rather than on military preparedness.

Nevertheless, the role of a clerk seems to remain unchanged as the colony entered the 1770s. While clerks were forced to attend multiple company social gatherings and stand idly by as officers used their ranks for political advantage, it appears that clerks continued to press ahead and adhere to their legislatively defined duties.

More importantly, as war loomed on the horizon with England in 1774 and early 1775, it would have been the clerks, like Lexington’s Daniel Harrington, who would have taken proactive steps to ensure that his fellow soldiers adhered to both the resolutions of the Massachusetts Provincial Congress and local town orders to be properly armed, equipped and trained for combat, and that the men would field when called upon to answer the call to defend English liberties. 

“This company had been instructed in military manoeuvres by an English deserter who is still living in H____” - What Became of George Marsden after 1775?

Over the past 18 months, the Nerds have conducted battlefield tours, delivered lectures, published research articles, and advanced their work on the next book. A recurring topic during the 250th celebrations has been the development of Minute Man companies in the Merrimack Valley region of Northeast Massachusetts. A central figure in this discussion is George Marsden.

As previously noted, Marsden served as a grenadier in the 59th Regiment of Foot, which arrived in New England in 1768 and relocated to Nova Scotia by 1769. A muster roll from October 1770 indicates that Marsden was promoted to sergeant, but by 1774, he had been demoted to private for reasons that remain unknown. Regimental muster rolls show that on July 24, 1774, he deserted his regiment. Subsequently, Marsden fled to Haverhill and offered his expertise to local militia and minute companies as Massachusetts prepared for war with England. Soon, communities such as Haverhill, Methuen, Bradford, and Salisbury engaged Marsden's services. By the eve of Lexington and Concord, he had expanded his operations into the Province of Maine, training Minute companies in York, Biddeford, and Pepperell.

Marsden was a logical choice to train the minute companies due to his intelligence and extensive experience with the British army. Throughout late winter and early spring of 1775, several militia and minute companies collaborated with Marsden to prepare for conflict with the Crown.

It remains unknown whether Marsden participated alongside any of the minute companies he trained on April 19, 1775.

On May 19, 1775, Marsden appears on the muster roll of Colonel James Scamman's Massachusetts Regiment. He became the regimental adjutant and participated in the Battle of Bunker Hill. During a court-martial, Marsden testified against his regimental commander and described his role in the engagement: "Adjutant Marsden was sworn at the desire of the complainants and deposed that we were three-quarters of an hour on the little hill and continued about twenty minutes after we heard of the firing on the hill in Charlestown. I went half-way up Bunker’s hill with Col. Scammans when I left him and went to the breastwork, where I got before the enemy forced it; the confusion was so great when we got to Bunker’s-Hill we could not form the regiment."

Later in 1775, Marsden was commissioned as a lieutenant in Colonel William Prescott's Regiment. He married Wilmot Lee on November 25, 1775, in Medford, Massachusetts. According to research by J.L. Bell, Wilmot was a camp follower of the British Army and was born in Nova Scotia on January 21, 1757. It is likely that she met Marsden while he was stationed in Halifax between 1769 and 1774. Bell further theorizes that she may have influenced his decision to desert.

In 1776, Marsden continued to serve as an American officer, reportedly in Colonel William Prescott’s 7th Continental Regiment. According to Wilmot’s 1842 petition for her husband’s pension, Marsden was also “in the service and engaged at the capture of Burgoyne, which took place in 1777.”

Over the past century, several myths regarding Marsden’s military service and his wife’s lineage have emerged. These include assertions that he served as a staff officer under General George Washington, was a “close and personal” friend of the General, and that his wife was a sister of Richard “Light Horse” Harry Lee. None of these claims is supported by evidence, yet multiple historical markers in the New York region, including Marsden’s own gravestone, continue to perpetuate them.

After retiring from military service, the couple appears to have relocated from Haverhill to Medford, where they lived until 1798. They are believed to have moved to Maine before purchasing land near Oneida, New York, where they eventually settled. George Marsden reportedly lived until 1817, and his official grave site is at the Eckel Graveyard in Oneida, New York. Wilmot lived until 1850 and is buried beside her husband.

At this point, the historical narrative becomes … weird.

Recently, while preparing for a professional development session for Haverhill High teachers, the Nerds uncovered a reprint of an 1820 sermon by Bradford minister Gardner B. Perry. Entitled History of Bradford, Mass., from the earliest period to the close of 1820, by Gardner B. Perry, A. M. (as contained in his historical sermon delivered December 20, 1820), this document examines the history of Bradford from its settlement through the early nineteenth century. Bradford was originally a town adjacent to Haverhill and became part of the city in 1897.

In an appendix to his sermon, the Reverend Gardner described how a Bradford minute man company was trained by a British deserter, almost certainly Marsden, and asserted that he was alive and well in 1820. The minister further stated that Marsden was still residing in the neighboring community of Haverhill. Specifically, he wrote, “This company had been instructed in military manoeuvres by an English deserter who is still living in H____.”

The use of “H___” to obscure Marsden’s alleged location in Haverhill suggests that the minister may have feared British authorities would still attempt to apprehend the deserter, despite the conclusion of both the American Revolution and the War of 1812.

Perry’s statement implies that the Marsdens may have relocated to Haverhill after leaving Medford in 1798. While this may be plausible, the claim that Marsden was still alive and residing in the Merrimack Valley, rather than New York, in 1820 warrants further examination.

Several local residents have recently informed the Nerds that George Marsden died in the mid-1820s and is buried on private land near the Haverhill-Groveland line. These same local historians also claim that it was only after his death that his wife accompanied her eldest son to Oneida, where she spent the remaining years of her life and is now buried.

We are familiar with the general area referenced by these local residents, which contains several eighteenth and early nineteenth-century private family burial plots and small cemeteries. Efforts are underway to corroborate this information, though there is skepticism regarding the claim and a suspicion that Reverend Perry may have been mistaken. Nevertheless, further research is planned, including examination of Haverhill tax valuations from 1798 to 1820 and other relevant documents, to assess the validity of Perry’s assertion.

The question of whether Marsden died in Haverhill or Oneida does not diminish his significant contributions on the eve of the American Revolution. As Perry observed, Marsden’s efforts to prepare Merrimack Valley men for the impending conflict with England were invaluable. At the Battle of Bunker Hill, Captain Nathaniel Gage of Bradford commanded a company of forty men from Bradford who had been trained by Marsden. During the engagement, the unit served as part of Colonel James Frye’s Regiment and was positioned inside the redoubt. Perry noted that Gage and his men were “in a place much exposed to the enemy, and yet not a life was lost.” He praised Marsden’s training and concluded that Gage’s Company “was one of the best disciplined and most effective companies engaged in that ever-memorable day.”

"Blocked Our Harbor Up" - Essex County, the Royal Navy and Harassment of the Coastline in 1775

Recently, the Nerds were asked about Essex (MA) County’s reaction to Royal Navy activity along its coast in the aftermath of the Battle of Bunker Hill, and to whether the skirmish in Gloucester in August 1775 was an isolated event or part of a larger operation to harass the Massachusetts coastline.

After the Battle of Bunker Hill, British officials in Boston believed that several coastal towns, such as Salem to the north, Beverly, Ipswich, Newburyport, and Gloucester, served as supply hubs for the American forces surrounding Boston. As a result, these towns became key targets for British naval attacks and landings. To interrupt American supply routes, Vice Admiral Samuel Graves of the Royal Navy commanded Captain John Linzee of the fourteen-gun sloop HMS Falcon to "to put to Sea as soon as possible in his Majesty’s Sloop under your Command and cruise between Cape Cod and Cape Ann in order to carry into Execution the late Acts for restraining the Trade of the Colonies And to seize and send to Boston all Vessels with Arms Ammunition, Provisions, Flour, Grain, Salt, Melasses, Wood, &c &c.”

 

Essex County was understandably on edge from threats at sea and from local militia, and alarm-list companies were constantly on alert. Less than two weeks after the Battles of Lexington and Concord, Salem, Marblehead, Newburyport and York (ME), petitioned the Massachusetts Provincial Congress “that the long line of sea coast was without adequate defence; that armed vessels were hovering about the ports, ready to turn their cannon upon the villages of the shore; that the people were exhausted by strenuous exertions in the common cause; and praying for reinforcement of men, and supplies of arms and ammunition.” 

The next day, the Congress resolved “That it be, and it hereby is earnestly recommended to the committees of the sea port towns in the county of Essex, that they use their utmost endeavors to have all the effects of the inhabitants of their respective towns removed as soon as possible, that the Congress highly approves of the conduct of said towns in wearing a pacific ap- pearance until their effects shall be secured, that the Congress consider it as absolutely necessary for said inhabitants to be in readiness to go into the country on the shortest notice, and to avoid mixing with our enemies.”

Of course, Essex County’s fears were not unfounded. In May, the New England Chronicle reported, “The Town of Salem, and other Parts of the County of Essex, were alarmed last Tuesday Morning by the Appearance, off Salem Harbour, of 2 or 3 armed Vessels, supposed to be on some hostile Design. A large Body of Men immediately assembled, But nothing extraordinary being attempted by the Enemy, the People dispersed, after taking some necessary Measures for their future Safety.” Marblehead resident Ashley Bowen noted in his journal how the Royal Navy was constantly harassing the seaport town, including an occasion when the HMS Merlin “blocked our harbor up.” In Newburyport, residents were rattled upon learning that a detachment of British sailors and officers from the HMS Scarborough rowed into Newburyport Harbor under the cover of darkness to scout the town’s defensive capabilities. According to the Essex Journal, “last Tuesday evening (May 23), a barge belonging to the man of war lying at Portsmouth, rowing up and down the river to make discoveries with two small officers and six seamen.” In early August, the commanding officer of the HMS Scarborough, then anchored off the coast of Portsmouth, New Hampshire, recommended that Newburyport be bombarded. Admiral Graves admitted such an operation was unlikely only due to the lack of ships. “I observe what you say about Newbury; that place and all others indeed require to be strictly attended to, but where are the Ships?”

The Royal Navy’s aggressive actions only inflamed the country’s growing fear of potential and actual raids. The Reverend Daniel Fuller of Gloucester noted that a false rumor of British troops landing in Beverly sparked panic throughout the region. “Rode to Middleton in Company with Israel Eveleth, met an Alarm upon Cheboffet Causeway, it was said a Body of Regular Troops were landed & landing at West Beach Beverle.” The minister also noted that many communities, including his own, were heeding the advice of the Provincial Congress and moving valuables, food supplies, and livestock inland so as to avoid capture. “People in this Parish chiefly employed in removing Household Furniture and Provision of all kinds from ye Harbours to this Place.” By mid July, Massachusetts officials finally relented and agreed to allow companies of soldiers fromcoastal communities serving at the Siege of Boston to return home to construct fortifications and protect their towns.

The Falcon was no stranger to these raids and had already captured the attention of the Massachusetts colonists by participating in the bombardment of American forces during the Battle of Bunker Hill. It had now turned its focus to coastal Essex County. Throughout the months of June and July, the Falcon cruised the New England coastline, often anchoring off of Portsmouth and dispatching sailors and marines to seize unattended coastal guns and forage for supplies. On August 5, 1775, HMS Falcon entered Ipswich Bay and anchored at the mouth of the Annisquam River. Captain Linzee promptly dispatched a landing party to seize sheep from a nearby pasture to provide the ship with mutton. Major Peter Coffin, a local farmer, suspected British intentions and quickly alerted the laborers on his land and neighboring residents. Armed with muskets, the small group took up concealed positions behind the dunes and opened fire as the ship’s boat approached. Believing a full company of militia lay in wait, the British officer leading the landing party abandoned the mission and returned to the Falcon empty-handed.

On the eve of the Battle of Gloucester, the HMS Falcon patrolled the waters off Cape Ann, seeking to capture colonial merchant ships bound for Salem or Newburyport. On August 8th, Captain Linzee spotted two schooners, likely from the West Indies, en route to Salem. He seized one as a prize and chased the other into Gloucester Harbor, where the fleeing vessel ran aground near Five Pound Island. The unusual sight quickly drew the attention of Gloucester residents, who soon saw the British warship towing a captured schooner. Recognizing the danger, the town meeting house began ringing its alarm bells, summoning the militia to assemble. Despite lacking cannons and having a very limited supply of powder and ammunition, the residents managed to mount a pair of swivel guns on makeshift carriages and position them for defense. 

 

It is unclear whether Gloucester's civilians fled the approaching fight or remained as spectators. In a letter to John Murray, Gloucester resident Judith Sargent noted that a week before the engagement, the Royal Navy schooner HMS Hope anchored in the harbor. A panic quickly set in, and the town’s militia and alarm lists assembled. According to Sargent, “You wish for some particulars relative to our publick affairs, and indeed they have somewhat varied since you left us — Upon the day of your departure, the arrival of a schooner belonging to his Britannick Majesty, threw our people into great alarm — Immediately the drums beat to arms, the [bells] sounded portentously, and the streets were filled with the goods of the terrified inhabitants — [Families] running up and down, throwing abroad their hands, the most heart affecting distress visible in their almost frantic gestures, when to heighten the misery of the scene.” Unlike other accounts of civilian evacuation during the Battles of Lexington and Concord, Sargent’s account notably does not mention whether civilians fled to the Essex interior when the Hope anchored off of Gloucester’s coast. Similarly, there are no civilian accounts documenting a flight on the day the Falcon attacked.

Undeterred by the alarm bells, Linzee ordered his ship into Gloucester’s harbor. He quickly seized a nearby dory belonging to fisherman William Babson and ordered him to pilot the Falcon into the harbor. The captain warned that if Babson did anything “to let the ship strike bottom, I will shoot you on the spot.” The sloop anchored between Stage Head and Ten Pound Island, dispatching three whaleboats carrying thirty-six sailors and marines toward the grounded schooner.

As the naval boats closed in on the grounded vessel and began to board, musket fire from the shore killed three sailors and wounded a lieutenant in the thigh. The barges withdrew with their casualties, leaving much of the boarding party behind on the schooner. In response, Linzee sent the previously captured schooner, now manned by a British prize crew, along with several small boats, all ordered to fire on any “damned rebel” within range. He also ordered a cannonading of the town by the Falcon in an attempt to draw attention away from the schooner, but “the Rebels paid very little Attention to the firing from the Ship.”

While the boarding party was still pinned down on the schooner, Linzee sent a landing party to set fire to the town. “I made an Attempt to set fire to the Town of Cape Anne and had I succeeded I flatter myself would have given the Lieutt an Opportunity of bringing a Schooner off, or have left her by the Boats, as the Rebels' attention must have been to the fire. But an American, part of my Complement, who has always been very active in our cause, set fire to the Powder before it was properly placed; Our attempt to fire the Town therefore not only failed, but one of the men was blown up and the American deserted.” Enraged, Linzee dispatched yet another landing party with orders to burn the town by torching the fish flakes. However, Gloucester militiamen quickly swarmed the landing party and took them prisoner. As Linzee would bitterly report, “A second Attempt was made to set fire to the Town, but did not succeed.”

At four o’clock in the afternoon, Linzee made one final push to seize the schooner and rescue his captured sailors. As several boats closed on their targets, the Falcon continued to pour broadsides into the fishing village. Surprisingly, the militiamen did not yield. As Gloucester’s Reverend Daniel Fuller recalled, “Lindsey, Capt of a man of war, fired it is supposed near 300 Shot at the Harbor Parish. Damaged ye meeting House Somewhat, Some other buildings, not a Single Person killed or wounded with his Cannon Shot.”

A wounded officer and a few men were rescued from the grounded schooner. The rest of the crew, including several impressed Americans, were eventually captured or rescued by Gloucester militiamen. By 7 p.m., all the British small boats had been seized. In a last attempt to recover his men, Linzee sent the prize schooner into the harbor. However, he later believed that the original crew had taken the chance to overpower the British prize crew and retake the vessel. As Linzee explained, “After the master was landed, I found I could not do him any good, or distress the rebels by firing, therefore I left off.” Linzee and the Falcon remained off Cape Ann until the next morning and then sailed back to Boston.

The ship-to-shore engagement resulted in a decisive American victory. Gloucester's men recaptured both schooners and took thirty-five British sailors, several wounded, with one dying shortly afterward. Twenty-four of the captured men were sent initially to the “Ipswich Gaol” and then ultimately transferred to an American prison camp in Cambridge. At the same time, local sailors who had been previously impressed into the British Navy were released and allowed to return home.Captain Linzee's failed raid on Gloucester significantly influenced later British naval reprisals. In October 1775, Admiral Graves ordered Captain Henry Mowat of HMS Canceaux to punish several New England coastal towns, including Gloucester, when her ordered “If possible first go to Cape Anne where Rebels thought it proper to fire upon the Falcon and where they took her Officers and Crew, and sent Prisoners in the Country.”. Although Gloucester was among the targets, Mowat chose not to attack it, concluding that the town's spread-out buildings made bombardment ineffective. Instead, his decision to burn Falmouth, now Portland, Maine, was crucial in motivating the Continental Congress to create the Continental Navy.

"No. 16, passing into possession of Thomas Hancock" - How Many Hancock Souls Were Laid to Rest in Tomb 16?

Today the Nerds are once again joined by historian and blogger Jess Bruce, who continues her fascinating investigation into one of Boston’s most famous and surprisingly complicated burial sites: the Hancock family tomb in the Granary Burying Ground. Jess has been hard at work untangling the documentary and physical evidence surrounding Tomb 16, and in her latest post, she tackles a deceptively simple question with major historical implications: just how many members of the Hancock family are actually buried there?

You can read her original and very detailed post at the link here.

To understand why this question matters, you first have to appreciate the setting.

Boston’s Granary Burying Ground, established in 1660, is one of the city’s most historically dense landscapes. Within its walls lie the remains of Revolutionary icons such as Samuel Adams, Robert Treat Paine, Paul Revere, and James Otis, along with thousands of ordinary Bostonians whose lives made the city what it is. Although only about 2,300 markers are visible today, many more people are buried beneath the ground and inside its tombs.

Tomb No. 16, commonly known as the Hancock family tomb, has long been identified as the final resting place of Governor John Hancock, a prominent first signer of the Declaration of Independence. While this association is accurate, the tomb was originally constructed as a family vault intended for use by multiple generations. The identities and interment dates of those buried within have been the subject of ongoing confusion, speculation, and historical inaccuracies.

In her new post, Jess does what good historians do: she goes back to the records.

Drawing on archival material and a detailed burial index compiled with the help of a FindAGrave contributor, she reconstructs a list of known and likely interments connected to the Hancock and Scott families. Based on surviving documentation, 15 coffins have been confirmed as placed in Tomb 16. Two additional individuals, Captain James Scott Jr. and Elizabeth Lowell Hancock, are very likely candidates as well, though the evidence for them is indirect. If they are included, the total rises to seventeen.

The list of those buried in the tomb reads like a compressed family history of the Hancocks. Alongside John Hancock himself are his brother, Ebenezer Hancock; his tragically young son, John George Washington Hancock; and a range of relatives stretching into the nineteenth century, including John Hancock II, Elizabeth Lowell Hancock Moriarty, and siblings such as Charles Lowell Hancock and George Hancock. What emerges is not merely a list of names but a multi-generational story of a prominent Boston family whose private lives unfolded alongside the public history of the new nation.

A particularly compelling piece of evidence presented by Jess is an 1883 sketch of the tomb’s interior, depicting 12 coffins stacked within the vault, with the smallest, believed to belong to Hancock’s young son, placed on top. This image serves as a powerful visual reminder that these tombs functioned not as abstract monuments but as tangible spaces, continually filled and revisited over time, shaped by grief, family custom, status, and reputation.

Jess’s work is particularly valuable because it demonstrates that even the most prominent figures in American history are subject to uncertainty, assumptions, and oversimplification. Upon closer examination, the Hancock tomb emerges as more than a tourist destination; it serves as a case study in familial remembrance, the preservation and loss of records, and the meticulous effort required to transform legend into history. For those interested in Revolutionary Boston, burial grounds, or the investigative process of historical research, Tomb 16 proves to be significantly more complex and populated than it initially appears.

"No. 16 Tomb of Hancock" - John Hancock's Final Resting Place

We apologize for the recent lack of posts. Our extensive commitments to various 250th projects and active participation in lectures and presentations over the past several months have kept us occupied.

Nevertheless, cue Whitesnake and celebrate as the Nerds are back!

Today, we are joined again by historian and blogger Jess Bruce. 

Jess has been hard at work examining the history of John Hancock’s burial site and trying to locate the original headstone. Her research findings on the topic can be accessed here.

The story of John Hancock’s burial is more complex and intriguing than most people realize. A recent in-depth examination of the historical record uncovers a mystery hidden in plain sight at Boston’s Granary Burying Ground. Jess’s first post on the topic begins with a bold statement: “After much research and dedication, I’ve finally uncovered the location of John Hancock’s final resting place,” noting that the answer was much closer than expected. This leads to a historical investigation that challenges the assumptions visitors make when standing before Hancock’s imposing granite obelisk.

A central point Jess makes during her historical deep dive into Boston burial ground history is the fate of Hancock’s original headstone. This simple white slab once marked his grave before being replaced by the towering monument that locals and tourists recognize today. A 19th-century photograph from the Boston Public Library offers a rare glimpse of the earlier grave marker, prompting new questions about its placement, accuracy, and historical reliability. Jess uncovers a startling detail found in archival reports: during major renovations, “embedded in the wall that was removed were several tombstones, including that of John Hancock.”

The investigation becomes even more intriguing as Jess analyzes historical maps, photographs, and present-day site conditions to estimate the original location of Hancock’s tomb. A comparison of alignments suggests that the first headstone may have been just 26 inches away from the modern obelisk. A contemporary photograph in Jess’s blog post illustrates this small yet significant discrepancy. For a site that draws thousands of visitors seeking a connection to the past, such a slight change emphasizes how delicate and fluid historical memory can be as landscapes evolve over time.

The most troubling question in Jess’s post concerns not the headstone but the remains themselves. An 1882 newspaper account claims that Hancock’s tomb may have been broken into and that his lead coffin was stolen and melted down. The article starkly states, “There is no proof that even his body remains there,” speculating that the materials may have ended up “in various plumbing operations.”

The blog post does not sensationalize this claim but presents it to demonstrate how easily the physical traces of history can be disrupted, misplaced, or erased. For anyone who loves early American history, the article offers a compelling and carefully researched reminder that even the most iconic figures can become entangled in uncertainty long after their deaths.

The Nerds highly encourage you to visit Jess’s blog to read the article. And good news, we’ll be posting part 2 of her research findings next week!

"I Do Not Consider Myself Equal to the Command With Which I Have Been Honored" - Washington Takes Command of the Continental Army

We’re sure you are all asking, “Hey Nerds! Where the heck have you been for the past few months?” 

We could tell you that the real world, such as work, and contributions to various 250th Anniversary of the American Revolution celebrations, all got in the way. Instead, we’re going to be vague and tell you only that the CIA recruited us for a top-secret mission that involved a treasure map on the back of a Bicentennial commemorative plaque, aliens, a high-speed chase through Cairo, Sean Bean, and Whitesnake. If we told you anything else, we’d have to kill you.

In the days that followed the Battle of Bunker Hill, a stalemate emerged between British and colonial forces as both sides sought to recover from the intense conflict. Thousands of New England men continued to encircle Boston, and the morale among British soldiers had plummeted after the battle. Meanwhile, the supply interdiction efforts by New England privateers were starting to complicate life within the town.

American forces were commanded by General Artemas Ward, who was born on November 26, 1727, in Shrewsbury, Massachusetts. As a child, Ward attended local schools and shared a tutor with his siblings. He graduated from Harvard and briefly taught there. In 1752, he was appointed Justice of the Peace and served multiple terms as a representative in the Colonial General Assembly and the executive council. During the French and Indian War, Ward rose to the rank of Lieutenant Colonel and was appointed Brigadier General by the Provincial Congress of Massachusetts on October 27, 1774.

After the battles of Lexington and Concord, he was formally named Commander in Chief of the Massachusetts Grand Army on May 19, 1775.

Ward faced significant challenges while overseeing the early months of the Siege of Boston. The provincial army surrounding Boston began to dwindle rapidly. Regiments suffered from a lack of organization, and soldiers were consistently coming and going. Initially, militiamen left in small groups, but soon the exodus escalated to hundreds, as dwindling provisions and responsibilities back home eroded their sense of duty.

Expressing his concern, Artemas Ward remarked that he feared he would soon be left alone at the siege. “My situation is such,” he stated, “that if I do not receive enlisting orders immediately, I shall be left all alone. It is impossible to keep the men here unless something is done. I therefore urge that the plan be completed and handed to me this morning, and that you, gentlemen of the Congress, issue orders for enlisting men.”

To meet this problem, the Provincial Congress agreed to General Ward’s requests that the men be formally enlisted for a given time. The legislative body resolved to raise a “Massachusetts Grand Army of 13,600 men and appoint a Committee of Supplies to collect and distribute the necessary commodities.”

In undertaking this venture, Massachusetts turned to the model it had followed to attract recruits for provincial regiments during the French and Indian War. When the Massachusetts government appointed a regimental colonel to serve in the French and Indian War, he was given a packet of blank commissions for officers he could dispense as he saw fit. Often, commissions would be contingent upon the prospective officers’ success in recruiting men. To secure enlistments of private soldiers, junior officers frequently made arrangements with prospective non-commissioned officers, promising posts as sergeants or corporals in return for their assistance in recruiting drives. While many recruiters operated within the confines of their own minute man or militia regiment that fought on April 19, recruiters were also authorized to beat their drums anywhere in the province to enlist volunteers. Local militia officers were prohibited from interfering with beating orders and were required to muster their companies and assist the colonel and his prospective officers with drafting recruits.

Photo Credit: George Comeau

After the regiments were raised and certified, they were adopted into the Massachusetts Grand Army and assigned regimental numbers. It appears that the regiments were assigned regimental numbers based on the “rank or age of the counties” from which they were raised.

Complicating Ward’s newly formed army was the continuous lack of supplies needed to maintain the siege, particularly gunpowder. In a joint letter with Joseph Warren, Ward pleaded to the Colony of New York to send ammunition and gunpowder to his soldiers. “We suffer at present the greatest inconveniences from a want of a sufficient quantity of [gun]powder; without this every attempt to defend ourselves or annoy our enemies, must prove abortive. We have taken every step to avail ourselves of this article, by drawing into our general magazines whatever could be spared from the respective Towns of this Colony; but the frequent skirmishes we have had have greatly diminished our stock, and we are now under the most alarming apprehensions that, notwithstanding the bravery of our troops, (whom we think we can, without boasting, declare are ready to encounter every danger for the preservation of the rights and liberties of America,) we shall, barely for want of the means of defence, fall at last a prey to our enemies. We, therefore, most earnestly beseech you, that you would warmly recommend it to the other Colonies, to send whatever ammunition they can possibly spare forthwith to our relief.”

To his credit, during the initial months of the Siege, General Ward effectively maintained the Grand Army’s defensive lines around Boston and successfully coordinated a supply interdiction operation against His Majesty’s forces. However, historians and contemporaries have critiqued his management of the Battle of Bunker Hill from Cambridge. Some claimed that he exhibited excessive caution, while others contended that his ineptitude contributed to the failure in ensuring the beleaguered troops atop the hill received adequate supplies. James Warren, who succeeded Joseph Warren as President of the Massachusetts Provincial Congress, expressed his frustration, remarking that the General “never left his house” while soldiers perished on Breed’s Hill.

Regardless of whether Ward was an effective commander or a fool, his time as Commander-in-Chief of the American army was quickly coming to an end.

Weeks into the siege, General Ward wrote to the Continental Congress in Philadelphia, outlining the difficulties he faced in organizing an army to counter British aggression and urgently requesting support. His letter sparked a heated debate among the delegates. Should the Continental Congress back the Massachusetts war effort, and if so, should they authorize the formation of an Army of the United Colonies? If they decided in favor, who should be appointed to lead it? While Artemas Ward has the necessary experience and is familiar with his troops, he remains relatively unknown beyond New England. Many delegates voiced their concerns regarding New England’s involvement in the conflict thus far, viewing the New Englanders as rabble-rousers and troublemakers. Other members believed it was essential to garner physical and political support outside of the turbulent New England region. If there is to be an Army of the United Colonies, it must be agreed upon and endorsed by all the colonies, not only those in the North.

On June 17, amidst the turmoil of the Battle of Bunker Hill, delegates gathered at the Continental Congress in Philadelphia to deliberate on the best ways to support the Siege of Boston and the possibility of establishing a unified standing army comprised of soldiers from all the American Colonies. Focus soon shifted to a Virginian who had consistently attended Congressional meetings in his military uniform. As a result, growing support emerged for the idea that this individual could serve as the new Commander in Chief.

George Washington was born on February 22, 1732, in the Northern Neck of Virginia to a middle-class but ambitious gentry family. Although he was the first child of Augustine Washington and Mary Ball, George had two older brothers and a sister from his father’s previous marriage, and he would later be joined by four surviving full siblings.

George’s prospects changed dramatically in 1743 when Augustine passed away at the young age of 48, continuing the family pattern of early male deaths that ultimately facilitated George’s ascent. By 1754, he assumed control of Mount Vernon and its enslaved laborers. In the wake of his father’s death, the 11-year-old George was deprived of the educational opportunities in England that his older brothers had received. This lack of formal schooling caused him considerable embarrassment throughout his life. Instead of pursuing academic development, Washington gained practical experience by traveling through the Virginia backcountry as a surveyor.

Despite lacking formal education, the young man was fortunate to have benefactors, particularly due to his brother Lawrence’s marriage into the esteemed Fairfax family. These connections allowed Washington to pursue a military career, leading him to become Colonel of the Virginia Regiment and commander-in-chief of the colony’s forces by the age of 34. Throughout the French and Indian War, Colonel Washington gained invaluable leadership experience, earning a measure of fame for both his successes and failures. 

A pivotal moment in George Washington’s life occurred on January 6, 1759, when he married Martha Dandridge Custis, a 27-year-old widow. This union not only combined his wealth with her estate but also elevated Washington into the ranks of colonial Virginia’s elite, approximately tripling the number of enslaved individuals under his control.

The next fifteen years were dedicated to managing and expanding Mount Vernon, nurturing his growing family, and fulfilling the civic duties expected of a gentleman of his rank, which included serving as a member of the House of Burgesses. During the politically charged decade of the 1760s and 1770s, Washington participated—often in a more reserved manner—in the significant debates and decisions surrounding colonial resistance. By 1774, he had gained enough prominence to become one of Virginia’s delegates to the Continental Congress, alongside the more renowned Patrick Henry.

Washington Taking Command of the American Army – At Cambridge, Massachusetts, July 3rd, 1775. Currier & Ives (American, active New York, 1857–1907)

For several reasons, Washington’s appointment as the Commander in Chief of an army representing the United Colonies was a logical choice. To transform the rebellion into a truly continental effort, the involvement of Virginia—the wealthiest and most populous colony—was essential. Congress sought a commander with substantial combat experience, and few possessed more than Washington. At forty-three, he was vigorous and youthful enough to endure the extended campaigns of a protracted conflict. Additionally, Washington’s fellow Virginians effectively persuaded many congressmen of his unwavering commitment to the patriot cause.

Politically, Washington occupied the role of a moderate revolutionary, a measured leader resolute in defending colonial rights. His presence further bolstered his case; several contemporaries noted his majestic appearance. Benjamin Rush remarked, “He possesses such martial dignity in his bearing that you can identify him as a general and a soldier among ten thousand.”

Following his appointment, Washington expressed his commitment to uphold the authority of the civilian leaders in Congress. He chose to forgo a salary, requesting only reimbursement for expenses incurred during the conflict. In his acceptance speech on June 16, he struck a note of humility, stating, “I am truly aware of the great honor bestowed upon me with this appointment… I do not consider myself equal to the command with which I have been honored.”

On June 23, 1775, Washington began his journey north to the Siege of Boston. The next day, the general started to receive reports of the dire condition of the New England Army surrounding Boston...specifically the lack of gunpowder. According to a June 24th letter to the Continental Congress, Washington noted, “Powder is so essential an Article that I cannot help again repeating the necessity of a supply. The Camp at Boston, from the best Accounts I can get from thence, is but very poorly supplied.”

On July 2, Washington arrived in Cambridge. The following day, he officially assumed command of the Massachusetts Grand Army, which was now integrated into the Continental Army, taking over from General Artemas Ward. He met with several high-ranking officers of the army and immediately set to work, joining his temporary housemate and third-in-command, Charles Lee, for a ride to inspect some of the siege lines surrounding Cambridge.

Dr. James Thatcher of Barnstable, Massachusetts, had an opportunity to observe General Washington. According to his journal, “I am informed that General George Washington arrived at our provincial camp, in this town, on the July 2; having been appointed, by the unanimous voice of the Continental Congress at Philadelphia, general and commander-in-chief of all the troops raised, and to be raised, for the defence of the United Colonies, as they are now termed ... He has been received here with every mark of respect, and addressed by our Provincial Congress in the most affectionate and respectful manner. All ranks appear to repose full confidence in him as commander-in-chief; it is the fervent prayer of the religiously disposed, that he may be instrumental in bringing this unhappy controversy to an honorable and speedy termination.”

On July 3, 1775, Washington rode out before a large detachment of American troops drawn up on Cambridge Common to address them. He quickly sets the tone by declaring “The General most earnestly requires” order and obedience.”

When Washington arrived in Cambridge, he discovered a disorganized and diverse assembly of soldiers and weaponry. His pre-existing negative opinion of Yankee troops was only reinforced by what he observed at the gathering outside of Boston. New England officers, elected by their men, worked alongside their troops in performing menial tasks and often held occupations that Washington deemed unworthy. The camps set up by the New England soldiers were chaotic and frequently plagued by unhealthy and unsanitary conditions.

Simultaneously, many of the New England troops viewed Washington with suspicion as an outsider and were apprehensive about how he would treat them. Complicating the situation further, shortly after Washington took command, reinforcements from as far away as Maryland and Virginia began to arrive at the siege. The New England troops, already wary of Washington, became equally distrustful of these newcomers and engaged in brawls with them.

In an effort to restore order, Washington issued general instructions to the army, declaring that they and those who enlisted “are now Troops of the United Provinces of North America.” He expressed hope “that all Distinctions of Colonies will be laid aside; so that one and the same Spirit may animate the whole, and the only Contest be, who shall render, on this great and trying occasion, the most essential service to the Great and common cause in which we are all engaged.”

Washington began to transform the militias into an organization more akin to a formal army. He appointed senior officers—contrary to the militias’ tradition of electing their leaders—and introduced greater organization and disciplinary measures within the encamped militias. Drawing from his previous experience as commander of the Virginia Regiment and what he observed daily at his Cambridge encampment, he was convinced that an army composed of short-term volunteers, no matter their dedication to the cause, could not prevail in the war.

In a letter to John Hancock in February 1776, he articulated this belief: “To expect then the same service from raw, undisciplined recruits as from veteran soldiers is to expect what never did, and perhaps never will happen.” His convictions on this matter only deepened over the years. From the outset, he maintained that militias served only as peripheral supplements to a core army; what was truly needed was a professional force of disciplined soldiers who, like him, were committed for the duration of the conflict. 

His model, in effect, was the British Army.

"The Guns Were Distinctly Heard" - Two More Child Witnesses of the Battle of Bunker Hill

It’s no secret that the Nerds are captivated by research studies and historical reports exploring the American Revolution's civilian experience. One area of growing interest is retelling events from 1775 through the perspectives of child witnesses.

The Nerds are unaware of contemporary accounts from children who experienced the Battles of Lexington, Concord, or Bunker Hill. Most—if not all—of the narratives attributed to children appear to have emerged during the early to mid-19th century. Likewise, by the mid- to late 1800s, it became increasingly common for grandchildren and great-grandchildren of eyewitnesses to share the stories passed down by their elders.

Many historians rightfully argue that these 19th-century accounts may be tainted by either fading memories or a desire to exaggerate or sensationalize one’s role during the early months of the American Revolution. As 19th Century Massachusetts historian George E. Ellis noted, many veterans and witnesses who claimed to have participated in the Battle of Bunker Hill, "Their contents were most extraordinary; many of the testimonies extravagant, boastful, inconsistent, and utterly untrue; mixtures of old men's broken memories and fond imaginings with the love of the marvellous. Some of those who gave in affidavits about the battle could not have been in it, nor even in its neighborhood. They had got so used to telling the story for the wonderment of village listeners as grandfathers' tales, and as petted representatives of 'the spirit of '76’, that they did not distinguish between what they had seen and done, and what they had read, heard, or dreamed. The decision of the committee was that much of the contents of the volumes was wholly worthless for history, and some of it discreditable, as misleading and false."

So far, the Nerds have blogged about four child eyewitnesses—three who witnessed the Battles of Lexington and Concord, and a fourth who saw the Battle of Bunker Hill. Today, we’re excited to share two more accounts we recently uncovered connected to the Battle of Bunker Hill. Each comes from a boy under the age of ten. The first—and understandably more well-known—is future president John Quincy Adams. The second is David Currier of Amesbury, a lesser-known but equally intriguing witness.

"An original sketch of the Burning of Charlestown & Battle of Bunker Hill. Taken by an English Officer from Beacon Hill Boston" by Thomas Davies, c. 1775 (New York Public Library)

John Quincy Adams, son of John and Abigail Adams, was only seven during the Battle of Bunker Hill. At the time of the battle, the Adams family had fled Boston and lived in a district of Braintree that is now part of Quincy, Massachusetts. As the British prepared for their first assault against the American position, John Quincy, his mother Abigail, and sister Nabby ascended Penn’s Hill to watch the battle.

Of course, the Adams were not the only ones to watch the battle from nearby hills. As the Royal Navy and Artillery pounded the American position on Breed’s Hill, many residents of nearby Massachusetts towns climbed to nearby hills and rooftops to watch the events unfold. In Boston, General Burgoyne observed, “behind us the church steeples and heights of our own camp covered with spectators of the rest of our army which was not engaged; the hills round the country covered with spectators.”

The trio’s view of the battle was not the best and appears to have been obscured by the burning of Charlestown. Decades later, in a letter to English Quaker Joseph Sturge, John Quincy described what he saw. “The year 1775 was the eighth year of my age. Among the first fruits of the War, was the expulsion of my father’s family from their peaceful abode in Boston, to take refuge in his and my native town of Braintree ... My father was separated from his family, on his way to attend the same continental Congress, and there my mother, with her children lived in unintermitted danger of being consumed with them all in a conflagration kindled by a torch in the same hands which on the 17th. of June lighted the fires in Charlestown. I saw with my own eyes those fires, and heard Britannia’s thunders in the Battle of Bunker’s hill and witnessed the tears of my mother and mingled with them my own, at the fall of Warren a dear friend of my father, and a beloved Physician to me. He had been our family physician and surgeon, and had saved my fore finger from amputation under a very bad fracture.”

More than fifty miles to the north, five-year-old David Currier was playing in the Pond Hill District of Amesbury, near what is now the Amesbury-Merrimac line, when the distant thunder of artillery shattered the calm—over a century of deforestation had left the land bare enough that the sounds of British cannon fire could carry into southern New Hampshire. David also did not know that his father, Captain John Currier, was inside the redoubt, leading a company of Amesbury men under Colonel James Frye’s Regiment.

On the eve of the American Civil War, the now ninety-year-old Currier relayed to Amesbury historian Joseph Merrill what transpired in the town as the battle raged on Charlestown Neck. Merrill would include Currier’s account in his book “History of Amesbury.” 

Statue of Abigail and John Quincy Adams, Quincy, Massachusetts

When the sound of artillery fire reached the town, many ascended Pond Hill hoping to catch a glimpse of the fight, while others panicked. “It was a warm day with south-west wind and the guns were distinctly heard, forcing all to the conclusion that a battle was going on. Never before had the big guns of an enemy been heard at Amesbury. All were wild with fear and excitement … The women gathered at some neighbors to sympathize, as well as express their deep anxiety as to the result. Would more than half be killed? Some thought not, others thought there would. But their fears could not be dispelled for some days, as there were no lightning trains or telegraphs then, and anxious hearts must retire to bed, but not to sleep. What will the British do? Will they kill us all? Such were the questions asked, which no one could answer.”

President John Quincy Adams died in 1848, a year after writing about his observations of the Battle of Bunker Hill.

David Currier’s father survived the Battle of Bunker Hill unscathed, but the town suffered three casualties: one was killed, and two were wounded. David died shortly after submitting to Merrill’s interview in 1860.

The Nerds are always on the hunt for primary accounts of the events of Lexington, Concord, and Bunker Hill from the perspective of children. If you are aware of any, feel free to let us know!