When my photographer woke up in our Concord Best Western motel room at 6:00am, I was anxious for the day to get started. Even though we had some unfinished business to complete at the New Hampshire State House before we left Concord, I knew the late morning and early afternoon would be spent with the Adams Family. No, not the creepy family from the 60s TV show, I’m talking about John, Abigail, John Quincy, and Louisa Catherine.
The sky was overcast once again, and the threat of rain was in the air when we arrived at the New Hampshire State House at eight o’clock in the morning on Thursday June 8, 2023. Tom got lucky and found a nice parking spot along Main Street, directly in front of the State House. But behind us, across Main Street from the Capitol, was a historic place known as the Eagle Hotel. The previous day at the Pierce Manse, Tom Fisk of the Pierce Brigade talked about the Eagle and its association with Franklin Pierce, plus, several other Presidents as well.
The Eagle Hotel was built in 1851 as a four-story hotel in downtown Concord. Less than two years after its construction, President-elect Franklin Pierce spent the night at the Eagle before he left for his inauguration on March 4, 1853. At that time, Franklin’s wife, Jane, was still mourning their son Bennie, who was tragically killed two months earlier. As a matter of fact, Jane blamed the new President for their son’s death by saying it was God’s punishment for her husband’s political aspirations. America’s newest First Lady did not attend her husband’s inauguration. Instead, she stayed in Baltimore for two weeks.
While the historic Eagle Hotel can boast the fact that “Franklin Pierce Slept Here”, four other Presidents spent time there as well. That’s right, Ulysses S. Grant, Rutherford B. Hayes, and Benjamin Harrison had all dined within the brick walls of that large building, while Richard Nixon was a guest when he served as Vice President during Eisenhower’s administration. Unfortunately for the Eagle, its doors closed as a hotel in 1961, and today it’s the home to the city’s famous Concord League Gallery where artisans sell their crafts.
Shortly after the Eagle had landed our attention for a few minutes, it was time to visit the State House where Franklin Pierce served as a member of the New Hampshire House of Representatives from 1829 to 1833. As a matter of fact, Pierce was the Speaker of the House during his final two years in office.
From our position at the arched entrance to the grounds, I noticed a large bronze statue directly in front of the historic State House. In my mind, I knew the celebrated monument must’ve been a statue of President Franklin Pierce, because of Franklin’s dedicated service to his state and country. But it wasn’t. Instead, we found the bronze likeness to our 14th President in an uncelebrated area of the grounds near the sidewalk. Had the statue been any further from the Capitol, Pierce would’ve still been in his room at the Eagle Hotel.
Politics had played a huge role in creating the statue to our 14th President, as well as the final decision of where it would be placed. But it just wasn’t politics. When Franklin Pierce returned to Concord following his term in the White House in 1857, the citizens voted to not hold a welcoming parade in his honor. They were mad, and disappointed, in Pierce’s decisions as President that helped put the United States on an inevitable collision course with Civil War. It wasn’t until May 13, 1913 when the governing body of New Hampshire approved a statue of Pierce that would be erected on the State House grounds. When the statue of Franklin Pierce was dedicated on November 25, 1914, Republicans made sure it had been erected at the very edge of the State House lawn, which was where I posed with it. As I looked up at the bronze likeness of our 14th President, it was easy to see sadness in his eyes and sorrow in his downturned lips. Even in bronze, Franklin Pierce didn’t get any respect.
Once the three of us walked onto the grounds and headed towards the front of the New Hampshire State House, I was completely disappointed with what I saw near the statue of Daniel Webster. A half-dozen or so protestors, each with a sign in their hands, were standing near a huge tent in front of the building. Don’t get me wrong, I’m one hundred percent in favor of all American citizen’s Constitutional right to protest peacefully. But did they have the right to ruin our pictures?
When Tom carried me up the front steps of the State House, I heard my photographer say to Bob he hoped security wouldn’t force him to remove his belt like they did in Albany, New York. I couldn’t have agreed more, I didn’t want to experience that “R-rated show” again, either. Once through the doors, however, there was no security equipment in place whatsoever. No metal detectors. No conveyor belts with X-Ray machines. No officers, with rubber gloves, prepared to give me a body cavity exam. Quite frankly, it was a breath of fresh air. It was evident to me the motto of New Hampshire was in full force at the State House – ‘Live Free or Die’.
Once inside, we needed to find the spot in the State House where President Franklin Pierce laid in state on October 10-11, 1869. My photographer figured the most likely place was beneath the rotunda. But there was one catch – there was no rotunda. The gold-plated dome we saw atop the Capitol was constructed onto the building’s flat roof. After much deliberation with the staff, while using the process of elimination, it was decided by everyone involved the most likely place for the President to lie in state was in the Hall of Flags just inside the front entrance. I stood there, in front of the historic Civil War battle flags, and honored the memory of President Franklin Pierce.
The second and final Pierce-related site inside the State House was the House of Representatives Chamber. At first, there was a chance we wouldn’t be allowed inside the historic chamber because the Congress was conducting a caucus that morning – and you know how those caucuses can be? A “Secret Squirrel” vote and discussions not fit for most bobble head’s ears. But timing is everything and with good fortune once again on our side, the three of us made our way into the upper gallery where I posed for a handful of photos. During our time in the chamber, I envisioned Speaker of the House Franklin Pierce seated in the House Dais, just below the huge portrait of George Washington. It was easy for me to picture Pierce in my mind as an equally large portrait of the former Speaker was on the wall just to the right of Washington. In all, five portraits graced the House of Representatives Chamber – John P. Hale, Abraham Lincoln, George Washington, Franklin Pierce, and Daniel Webster. The only one of the five I had never heard of before was John P. Hale. To me, he sounded like a Beach Boys song!
When I thought we were finished with our self-guided tour inside the State House, we were encouraged to visit the Governor’s Reception Room and the Executive Council Room due to my two companions’ undying interest in the Signers of the Declaration of Independence. And sure enough, when we arrived in the historic and elaborate room, we saw a portrait of Josiah Bartlett on one of the walls. It turned out Bartlett not only penned his signature on the treasured document of freedom, but he was New Hampshire’s first governor after the state’s constitution was ratified.
With no more areas of interest to see inside, unless Governor Chris Sununu wanted to meet me, Tom carried me down a set of steps and back outside the State House. Unfortunately, the protestors were still congregated near the front of the building. We had been inside the State House for over 45 minutes, and I loved every minute of it. When it comes to historic State Capitol buildings, the one in Concord, New Hampshire was one of the best. After all, it’s the oldest Capitol in the nation in which both houses of the legislation still meet in their original chambers. We had paid our personal tribute to Franklin Pierce at every site we could find in Concord, but we needed to leave our tears, our sorrow, and our 14th President in the rearview mirror.
The clock struck nine o’clock, and although that’s not the witching hour, it was time for the three of us to put a witch’s shawl on, then find a broomstick to crawl on. We were about pay a call on, the Adams Family. Tom and Bob decided to alter our route to Quincy, Massachusetts from the shortest path Siri had found, and that was only to avoid driving amongst the late morning rush hour traffic in downtown Boston.
My photographer found a good parking spot along the street in Quincy, one that was only a couple blocks north of the National Park Service Visitor Center. It was only 10:30am, and my companions hoped they were early enough to secure a couple of tour tickets for the Old House at Peacefield, as well as the birthplace homes of John Adams, and his son, John Quincy. But after we made the short hike to where the tickets should’ve been available, my two friends left empty-handed; the NPS said all of the home tours for the entire day were filled. The news wasn’t totally devastating to my photographer, as Tom wanted to focus primarily on exterior shots at the three homes anyway. As for me, and I’m sure for Bob as well, we left the Visitor Center extremely disappointed.
During our visit in 2017, my camera guy had obtained advance permission to photograph me inside Peacefield, as photography of any kind was prohibited. On that trip, a NPS ranger led the two of us inside the home where I was allowed to pose in two rooms – the study where John Adams was sitting when he suffered a heart attack; and the bedroom where our second President died. We also visited the two birthplace homes six years ago as well, but the ranger there didn’t let Tom take any interior images at all, even though most of the furnishings inside both homes were period pieces.
With no tour tickets in hand, the three of us knew we’d be left fending for ourselves outside of the Adams Family homes. But first, Tom and Bob decided to begin our Quincy tribute to the Adams’ at their final resting place in the basement of the United First Parish Church, which was less than a block from the Visitor Center. I’ve visited the crypt of the Adams’ only once and I was excited to return.
The United First Parish Church was built in 1828, which was two years after John Adams died on the Fourth of July at Peacefield. But even though Adams passed away before the church had been completed, he had financed the construction through a land donation and most of the granite used in the building came from the Adams Family quarry. When Tom carried me through the front doors of the historic church, the three of us joined a tour already in progress. Before our group was led into the basement, however, I had the opportunity to pose at the church’s original mahogany altar and stand in Pew 54, which was used by John Quincy Adams and his family whenever they were in Quincy.
While the interior of the church was historically breathtaking, especially when I thought about John Quincy and Louisa Catherine Adams seeing the same furnishings with their own eyes that I was looking at, it was the basement burial vault that made my spring wiggle. Our tour group, which consisted of about ten people, made it a tight fit inside the crypt. While most of those folks stayed near the entrance door, which was in front of the granite sarcophagi of John and Abigail Adams, my companions and I squeezed around to the area of the crypt where John Quincy and Louisa Catherine had been laid to rest. That turned out to be a great move as we had the sixth President and his wife to ourselves. When the others vacated the vault with the guide, my photographer and Mongo finished our crypt visit with John and Abigail. For over five minutes, my companions and I were inside the Adams’ crypt alone with the two Presidents and two First Lady’s – and that was an awesome experience. The most touching part of all was when Tom placed me on the sarcophagus of Abigail Adams. I couldn’t help but think of our family dog back home because she was named after the First Lady. At that very moment, my photographer and I had no way of knowing “our” beloved Abigal Adams would pass away less than a month later.
When our tour guide at the United First Parish Church locked the crypt’s iron gate shut behind us, we bid farewell to the Adams Family. It was an amazing experience – nowhere else in the country can someone see two Presidential gravesites so close together. Hollywood Cemetery in Richmond, Virginia, with the graves of James Monroe and John Tyler, comes close – but those two graves are about two hundred feet apart. As Tom carried me back up the steps to the vestibule, a familiar song ran through my resin mind: “The church is a museum, when people come to see ’em. Down in the mausoleum, are the Adams Family.” Snap, snap!
Back outside, the three of us headed across a section of the Hancock Adams Common and through the gates of Hancock Cemetery, which was situated in the shadow of the United First Parish Church. Just when I thought I was finished standing on the graves of an Adams Family member, I was wrong. Okay, I wasn’t totally wrong; I was just confused. When my photographer placed me on top of an old tomb that featured the name ‘J.Q. ADAMS’ across the front, it turned out to be an empty tomb that once held the remains of John and John Quincy Adams, along with their wives Abigail and Louisa Catherine, before they were reinterred into the basement crypt of the church. One thing was for certain in my mind, there was no such thing as a “final resting place” for an Adams, at least until they ended up in the church basement crypt.
Abigail Adams died in 1818 and was placed inside the Hancock Cemetery family tomb where she remained for nearly ten years. Two years after John Adams died in 1826, the President and First Lady were both reinterred together inside the church crypt. When John Quincy passed away in 1848, his body was placed in the temporary tomb at Congressional Cemetery in Washington for about a week before it was transported to the Hancock tomb where it remained for four years. Seven months after Louisa Catherine Adams died in May 1852, their son, Charles Francis Adams, had his parents reinterred in the newly expanded Adams Family crypt in the church basement.
Shortly after 12 noon, the three of us were back in the Explorer and headed to the Adams Family home. And I’m not talking about the one located at 001 Cemetery Lane on the 60s TV show. This home was known as the Old House at Peacefield, located on Adams Street, and was roughly one half-mile north of the United First Parish Church. When Tom found a good parking spot along the street just west of the historic home, I wondered whether or not that street was known as “Adams Street” back when John and Abigail purchased the home in 1787.
As soon as Tom carried me through the front gates of Peacefield, the first detail I noticed was the lack of tourists there. And that was a very good thing. Back in 2017, I had difficulty posing for good images near the home’s exterior because of the large number of people who were milling about the grounds or sitting on the porch. But on this day, it seemed as though we had the entire grounds to ourselves.
The historic home in front of me was built in 1731 as a summer home for a wealthy slave owner from Jamaica. The estate, which was located in Braintree when it was built, originally sat on 60 acres of orchards, meadows, woodland, and farmland. After the first owner died, the home passed through several owners until an agent acting for John Adams, who was in England as the U.S. Minister to Great Britain, bought the estate for his client in 1787. When John and Abigail returned to Braintree a year later, they got their first look at their new digs – and Abigail wasn’t impressed, especially after she had lived in some lavish homes in England. The future First Lady said the place resembled a “wren’s nest” with all the comforts of a barracks. Originally, John and Abigail called their home “Old House”, but shortly after moving in, the future President wrote a letter to a friend and stated: “I think to christen my Place by the Name Peace field, in commemoration of the Peace which I assisted in making in 1783, of the thirteen Years Peace and Neutrality which I have contributed to preserve, and of the constant Peace and Tranquility which I have enjoyed in this Residence.” The historic Peacefield would be the residence of four generations of Adams, including two Presidents and their wives. It remained in the family for two more generations, who used it as a summer home, until it was donated to the National Park Service in 1946.
When Tom carried me onto the porch where I posed for several photos, I wanted him to knock on the front door to see if Lurch, the Adams Family butler, would open the door. But my photographer refused to knock. Sometimes that guy is such a buzz kill. However, when Tom set me on one of the porch chairs, I gazed out towards the front gate and envisioned John Adams strolling up the walkway after he left the White House in 1801. Then I looked to my right, out towards the lavish garden, and that’s when my thoughts really went wild. It was in that garden where Abigail worked hard to cultivate the soil that fed her family while her husband was away in Philadelphia or in Washington. At one point during our visit, Tom carried me to Abigail’s garden where I had the honor of standing on the same ground where that amazing woman once toiled. I’ve stood on some very historic ground over the past ten years, but that garden at Peacefield immediately became one my favorite places of all time.
For roughly 40 minutes, Tom carried me all over the grounds of Peacefield; the same grounds walked upon by John, Abigail, John Quincy, and generations of the Adams Family. But what had surprised me the most during our entire visit was the fact that not one person, nor one NPS Ranger, went in or out of that home. That observation led my companions to believe the tours of the home were not filled, but instead weren’t happening at all that day for one reason or another.
As the clock struck one o’clock in the afternoon, we left Abigail’s “wren’s nest” and headed for John’s “salt box”, which was a little over a mile down the road. To be more precise, we were headed to a pair of John’s “salt boxes” – one of which was his birthplace, and the second was where he and Abigail lived when John Quincy was born. Upon arrival, I noticed both small, two-and-one-half-story homes were nearly identical in size and shape; the biggest difference was John Adams’ birthplace looked older and the exterior appeared to be more weathered. The two Presidential birthplaces were only 75 feet from one another, which allowed us to get more bang for our buck in one stop. For me, the best part of all was the lack of other tourists near the historic buildings. There was one NPS Ranger and a small handful of other people seated on benches between the two structures, but they managed to stay clear and let us have unobstructed views of both homes.
During my 2017 visit to the site, Tom carried me into both birthplaces, but my photographer wasn’t allowed to take pictures of me inside either place. Since we didn’t have tour tickets on this visit, I knew there would be no chance of me posing inside either home anyway. Then it happened again – out of nowhere, the Divine Providence which helped us several times earlier in the trip had seemingly followed us to Quincy. While I was posing in front of the birthplace of John Adams, Bob was engaged in a conversation with Jessica Pilkington, the NPS Ranger on duty. During their chit chat, Mongo explained to the ranger what the three of us were hoping to do. The next thing I knew, Jessica assigned one of the interns at the site to lead us into John Adams’ birthplace for a guided tour as the ranger figured “It would be good practice for Kurt”.
The three of us stood in awe alongside Kurt at the front door of the dark brown, wood-framed structure that was sheathed in wooden clapboards. The historic farmhouse was originally built by William Needham in 1681, but was purchased by Deacon John Adams in 1720 and was where all three of his sons were born. The first-born was John Adams, Jr., our nation’s second President, and he began life in the home on October 30, 1735. When the Deacon passed away in 1761, his house and farmland passed on to John’s younger brother, Peter, while John received the farmhouse next door. Just before we entered the home, I looked up at the second-floor window of the room where John Adams was born. Even though I knew there was no way of seeing the actual room because the upper-floor rooms were off-limits to the public, I knew in my resin heart we were very lucky to be headed inside at all.
But our luck didn’t stop there – not by any stretch of my vivid imagination. Once we were inside the small home, Kurt let Tom photograph me in every room on the first floor. I couldn’t believe where I was standing and posing for pictures. After all, those floorboards were where John Adams first learned to walk, and the long, back room was where he first learned about Braintree politics from his father and other local leaders. And of course, I’m always a sucker to pose on a fireplace mantel, mainly because they’re usually original to the home, no matter how many renovations occurred over the years.
When our tour of the John Adams birthplace concluded, my two companions did their best to persuade Kurt to take us inside the John Quincy birthplace as well. Tom and Bob said it would be good practice for him. But since he was new and was only working his first week on the job, Kurt said he couldn’t take us inside the house without Jessica’s permission – and the ranger was nowhere to be found when we went back outside. But someone else was. John Adams himself, in the flesh, was standing near his father’s home. It turned out to be Michael Lepage, a Historical Interpreter, who has portrayed the second President all around the Boston area since 1998. For me, the amazing aspect of listening to Lepage talk was how he stayed in character throughout the entire time – and that time was the year 1774.
My companions weren’t about to give up the chance of possibly seeing the inside of the second home, at least without finding Jessica first. While we waited for the ranger to finish a tour she was leading, the three of us walked next door to the John Quincy Adams birthplace where I posed for a handful of photos near the exterior of the historic home.
In my mind, the home looked a lot newer than the first one we visited. I was stunned, however, to discover the wood-framed structure in front of me was built by Samuel Belcher in 1663, which was 18 years prior to the construction of the John Adams birthplace. In 1744, Deacon John Adams bought his neighbor’s home, which sat on 9 1/2 acres of land and was only 75 feet from his own farmhouse. Seventeen years later, the Deacon bequeathed that farm to his oldest son, John. Following John’s marriage to Abigail Smith on October 25, 1764, the 28-year-old Adams brought his 19-year-old bride back to the home where they resided until the Revolutionary War had concluded. All six of John and Abigail’s children were born in the home, including the future sixth President, John Quincy Adams, on July 11, 1767.
During their time in the quaint two-story farmhouse, John ran a successful law practice from his office on the first floor. During America’s revolution, however, Adams spent a lot of time in Philadelphia while Abigail took care of the farm. She made sure their children were educated; and Abigail inspired her husband with a countless number of letters during a critical period in our history. In 1779, John Adams drafted the Constitution of Massachusetts from his law office inside the home.
Following our ten-minute photo-op where I posed near the exterior of the second home, Tom carried me back to the NPS gathering place located in the shade between the two buildings. That’s when my photographer and Bob tried to get Kurt to change his mind about a second tour, but that attempt proved to be as futile as the first. It had been exactly one hour since our first tour with Kurt had concluded and it certainly appeared our luck, and time, had run out in Quincy. Then suddenly, Jessica appeared out of nowhere – the tour the ranger had led was over and she was ours; or at least I had hoped she would spend some time with us. Following a quick conversation between my companions and the ranger, we began the short walk with Jessica to the back door of the John Quincy Adams birthplace.
Inside the historic home, it was as though we stepped back in time. I was in total awe as I envisioned John and Abigail inside the home together as their long marriage was just beginning. Then I saw Nabby, in my resin mind’s eye, as she helped her younger brother John Quincy first learn to walk on the original living room floor. While the birthplace of John Adams seemed more significant to me at first, I discovered it was John’s farmhouse next to his birthplace that was actually more historic. After all, that home was where John and Abigail formed their unalienable union that eventually helped shape the formation of our new democracy.
As Jessica Pilkington led us into the final room of the house, which was John’s law office, a very familiar person was standing there to greet us. That’s right – it was John Adams. Although the three of us knew it was actually Michael Lepage, the Historical Interpreter never once broke character, even when my photographer asked him what it was like to meet Thomas Jefferson. The Duke of Braintree said he didn’t know because it was 1774 and he hadn’t met him yet. Adams did mention, however, he hoped to meet the Virginian the following year in Philadelphia, and added he had heard good things about Jefferson and was looking forward to working with him.
I was disappointed in my photographer. Tom had the chance to ask John Adams one question, and that was the best he could come up with? Then it was Bob’s turn, and Mongo didn’t let me down. As a matter of fact, I thought Bob stole the show when he commended Adams for providing the legal defense for the British soldiers who fired the shots during the historic Boston Massacre. That was a huge moment in the life of John Adams, and it was a brilliant comment made by Mongo. After John smiled and thanked Bob for his remark, I looked at my companions and both guys had huge smiles on their faces. It seemed as though the three of us had boarded a DeLorean and were transported back to the year 1774. Our day with John Adams couldn’t have gone any better. Unless, of course, Jessica Pilkington could’ve pulled some strings to get us inside Peacefield.
When Tom carried me out of John and Abigail’s home, I thought I’d need plastic surgery to remove the smile from my resin face. As a matter of fact, I wanted to whistle Zip-a-dee-doo-dah all the way back to our vehicle. My companions thanked our gracious host, Jessica Pilkington, for her time, understanding, and appreciation for our never-ending quest for truth, justice, and the American way.
After we spent most of the morning and a good portion of the early afternoon with the Adams Family of Braintree, I figured it was time to head north for Boston. But once again, I was mistaken. There was one final Adams site my companions had on their docket, and it was located less than a half-mile south of the birthplaces. To most visitors, the Abigail Adams Cairn would be something they’d bypass in favor of the more well-known sites. But to the three of us, the site was extremely important; not only historically, but significant in helping us tell the complete story of the Adams’ time in Braintree. In my opinion, this story demonstrated the courage and fortitude of Abigail Adams. That amazing woman was the glue that held the Adams Family together during the American Revolution and beyond.
As soon as we arrived at our destination, my resin jaw nearly dropped to the roadway when my photographer removed me from the camera case. For what did my eyes behold, but a large 25-foot-tall stone phallus situated on top of Penn’s Hill. Since the monument was surrounded by an outcropping of large granite boulders, it took a bit of effort for my clumsy, rotund camera guy to climb the rugged pathway to the top of Penn’s Hill. Once there, we caught a glimpse of Boston to the north. But this wasn’t just a scenic outlook for visitors to see Boston from 15 miles away. Instead, it was where Abigail Adams once stood and witnessed history, and where a future President of the United States had his life altered forever.
On Saturday June 17, 1775, Abigail Adams was providing care for the four children of Dr. Joseph Warren, who was also the President of the Massachusetts Provincial Congress. At the same time, Abigail had her four young children with her as well, including seven-year-old John Quincy. Suddenly, tragic news spread to Braintree that British troops had killed Warren during the historic Battle of Bunker Hill, which ironically happened on Breed’s Hill. Later that afternoon, Abigail’s growing concern over the situation just 15 miles to the north caused her to climb the rocks to the top of Penn’s Hill with her ten-year-old daughter Nabby and son John Quincy in tow. From that spot, Abigail and the kids looked out over the distant hills and shoreline where they saw plumes of smoke in the sky from the burning of Charlestown by the British. The three of them also heard the distant rumble of guns and cannon fire at Bunker Hill.
That entire moment with his mother on Penn’s Hill, as seen through the eyes of a seven-year-old boy, stayed with John Quincy Adams for the rest of his life. As a matter of fact, when he was just a couple of years from death, he wrote about watching the Battle of Bunker Hill with his mother. “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.” John Quincy recounted the fear his mother had, thinking the British troops might march out of Boston at any moment and “butcher them in cold blood”, or take the family of the “traitor” John Adams as hostages and drag them from Braintree back into the besieged city of Boston. But what the sixth President remembered most about that day was the hopeless sense of sadness that he and his mother felt when they learned their family physician, Dr. Joseph Warren, had been killed.
It was three o’clock in the afternoon when the three of us finished our visit at the Abigail Adams Cairn near Braintree. We had spent roughly four hours in and around Quincy where I had the opportunity to see the Presidential sites associated with both John Adams and his son, John Quincy. But on that day, the person who put the zing in my spring was Abigail Adams. I couldn’t have been prouder as I walked in her footsteps, stood in her garden, sat on her porch, climbed to her hilltop, and paid my personal respects at her grave. What I admired most about Abigail was her relentless pursuit of equal rights for all people living in this nation, but especially for the women who didn’t have the same rights as men. Remarkably, her actions spoke louder than her words. In a time when all women were expected to be seen and not heard, Abigail was not only heard, but her voice was heard from Boston all the way to Philadelphia. In a letter to her husband John, dated March 31, 1776, she encouraged him and his Congressional colleagues to not forget about America’s women while fighting for our nation’s independence from Great Britain. As a matter of fact, she issued a warning to Congress should America’s female citizens be forgotten whenever a new set of laws were adopted. Her stern written warning to her husband in Congress stated in part: “If particular care and attention is not paid to the ladies, we are determined to foment a rebellion, and will not hold ourselves bound by any laws in which we have no voice or representation.”
During the pivotal time when John Adams was away from home as he helped lead the movement for independence, it was Abigail who wore many hats back in Braintree. She was a mother, a cook, a teacher, a writer, a farmer, a political advisor, a trader, an economist, and a real estate agent. But even though she lacked a formal education, like most women of her time, Abigail Adams was intelligent, well read, and outspoken. And it’s the outspoken part I admired most!
** THIS POST IS DEDICATED TO NPS RANGER JESSICA PILKINGTON FOR HER TIME AND APPRECIATION FOR OUR HISTORICAL ENDEAVORS **
