Fergus M. Bordewich

Political Rhetoric Over SCOTUS Nominee Is Historically Unhinged
May 3rd, 2016

Republican rhetoric over the appointment of a new justice to the Supreme Court to replace Antonin Scalia is not only transparently partisan, it’s historically baseless.
 
In rejecting President Obama’s efforts to name a candidate, Senate Majority Leader Mitch McConnell has repeatedly said, “Let the American people decide.” Meanwhile, Senator Pat Roberts of Kansas bizarrely declared, “You gotta go back to Jim Madison, when the Founding Fathers sat around. It used to be 67, and now it’s down to 60,” to defeat a presumed filibuster.
 
The Republican Party has long proclaimed its devotion to founding principles and celebrated “originalism” as the only authentic way to interpret the Constitution. However, McConnell’s and Roberts’ assertions epitomize exactly the kind of historical “revisionism” that Republicans usually decry, not to mention a travesty of both the Founders’ intent and the Constitution’s explicit meaning.
 
The Constitution stipulates that the president, not “the people,” name new justices, and that the Senate approves them. The Founders never intended Supreme Court appointments to be a political popularity contest. Nor, Sen. Roberts should know, did James Madison advocate that a filibuster be applied to Supreme Court nominees, or any other nominees, for that matter. Filibusters did not even exist in Madison’s day.
 
The members of the First Congress who essentially created our national government, were not “originalists.” None of them thought the Constitution was untouchable and unalterable. If its text was so sacred, as Congressman Elbridge Gerry of Massachusetts put it, what was the point of permitting amendments at all? Rather, the Founders saw the Constitution as a flexible instrument that could be adapted to future needs as the country grew. As Madison, who saw the new government as a bold experiment, put it, “We are in a wilderness without a single footstep to guide us.”
 
A Supreme Court and a federal judiciary system were called for by the Constitution. But they were actually created by the First Federal Congress, which met from 1789 to 1791, first in New York and then in Philadelphia. Although debate over the powers of the federal judiciary was sometimes intense, members of the First Congress never contemplated the kind of political trench warfare that often surrounds Supreme Court appointments today. Indeed, they hoped and expected that the court would rise above politics.
 
The members of the First Congress certainly never imagined that politicians would use the court as a pawn in an ideologically-driven attempt to deny a president’s constitutionally prescribed right to nominate his choice for the court. Much of the debate in the First Congress concerning the federal judiciary, as well as other issues, emphasized the need to strengthen the power of the new presidency, not weaken it.
 
Significantly, the sharpest debate over the creation of the federal judiciary focused essentially on what we now call states’ rights. Southerners in particular worried that a strong judiciary might someday tamper with slavery. Senator Pierce Butler of South Carolina, for one, charged that the judiciary bill would be able to “destroy, to cut up at the root the state judiciaries, to annihilate their whose system of jurisprudence and finally swallow up every distinguishing mark of a distinct government.” But the bill passed overwhelmingly.
 
The Supreme Court’s beginnings were modest. Its first meeting took place on February 2, 1790, in New York City. Symbolically, the moment was pregnant with promise for the republic—this birth of a new national institution whose future power, admittedly, still existed only in the mind’s eye of a few farsighted Americans. Bewigged and swathed in their robes of office, Chief Justice John Jay and his three associate justices sat before a throng of spectators and waited for something to happen, but nothing did. They had no cases to consider. After a week of inactivity, they adjourned and went home.
 
It would take time for the Supreme Court and the rest of the federal court system to grow into the third great pillar of American government. Its full impact would not be felt for generations to come. But combined with the rights that were being codified in the first amendments to the Constitution, it would one day become a great and dynamic engine that would carry justice into every community and transform American society to its roots.
 
Madison and his Federalist allies believed that a strong executive was imperative, and they feared the consequences if the Senate someday attempted to encroach on presidential power. They knew that one of the most crucial aspects of that strength was the power of appointment. During earlier debate over the establishment of the executive departments, Madison had argued that once Congress created an office and the president filled it, “the legislative power ceases.” Of course, the Senate has the right to reject a nominee. But Madison believed that a president dependent on the Senate to control his appointments would soon be left helpless. Unfortunately, this seems to be precisely what today’s Senate Republicans intend.
 

What Today’s Congress Can Learn From the First Congress
April 16th, 2016

‘Public faith in our democratic institutions is more important than any single issue’
 
The deepening standoff between Congress and the president over the replacement of Supreme Court Justice Antonin Scalia, who died in February, threatens to damage yet another key part of what Patrick Henry once called the “crazy machine” of government. Some might imagine that the nation’s founders would be appalled if they saw government so paralyzed. In fact, it might seem to them more like deja vu.
 
Even in its earliest years, Congress faced seemingly intractable problems that might have crippled our new government before it got underway. But unlike the majority of our present Congress, the members of the First Congress were determined to make government work—they were afraid of the consequences if it didn’t.
 
Today’s Congress might find a way out of the weeds by taking a few lessons from the First Congress, which met first in New York and later in Philadelphia, from 1789 to 1791 in an atmosphere hardly less conflicted than the present-day, and was charged with the daunting task of turning the parchment plan of the Constitution into a working government. Many Americans—including members of Congress—feared that it couldn’t be done.
 
The nascent United States was still less a reality than an idea. As James Madison, who dominated much of the First Congress debate, put it: “We are in a wilderness without a single footstep to guide us.” The country was a shaky collection of sovereign states. The government had no reliable source of revenue. More than 50 different currencies were in circulation. There was no permanent capital. The British threatened the nation’s security from the north, and bellicose Indians did so from the west. Southerners were suspicious of northerners, westerners of easterners, New Englanders of everyone else. Quakers and others were demanding an end to slavery, while southerners threatened secession if government dared to tamper with their “peculiar institution.”
 
Astonishingly enough, however, the First Congress produced the most successful record of accomplishment by any single Congress in American history. It established the executive departments, the first revenue streams for the national government, approved the first amendments to the Constitution, adopted a program for paying the country’s debts, embraced the principles of capitalism as the underpinning of government financial policy, founded the first National Bank, established the national capital on the Potomac River, and enacted the first patent and copyright laws. Not least, it also established the Federal Court System and the Supreme Court, with John Jay as its first Chief Justice. They didn’t accomplish all this with a group hug; they did it through shameless deal-making, the kind of flip-flopping that is ritually decried by modern pundits, and the suspension of personal principles in order to get things done.
 
Present-day Americans might well wonder if today’s congressmen would have been up to the tasks faced by the First Congress. But we miss the point if we think that they were made of a different caliber, or that the problems that they faced were so different in kind. The members of the First Congress were not demigods. “We are beginning to forget that the patriots of former days were men like ourselves,” as Charles Francis Adams put it, in 1871. Along with Madison and other exceptional men such as Roger Sherman and Oliver Ellsworth, their ranks were filled mostly with men of average ability. What they had in common was that the great majority of them were professional politicians, mostly lawyers. Few were amateurs, and almost none were ideological zealots. They were men experienced in government, they understood the need for compromise, even on matters of deeply held principle, and they had the experience to do it. Although they differed deeply on many issues—on slavery, centralized government, regional interests, taxation—they wanted the government to succeed. They also believed in politics as a tool for national survival. After all, the right to be political was what they had fought the Revolutionary War for: It was the engine that made republican government work.
 
So what lessons might members of Congress draw from their predecessors in order to break today’s gridlock? Public faith in our democratic institutions is more important than any single issue. Attacks on the government in order to advance a partisan agenda undermine American values and betray both the spirit and the intent of the founders. In tough times it takes experienced professional politicians to shape the compromises that will always be necessary to keep the country together and move it forward. And that doesn’t just mean compromise on the small stuff: It sometimes means sacrificing deeply-held principles in hope of prevailing another day.
 
That there is politics involved in Supreme Court appointments is nothing new. But if ever there has been a moment when legislators are called upon to rise above the ideological fashions of the moment in order to preserve public respect for the court, and indeed for government itself, it is now. To attempt to sabotage the president’s clear constitutional power to appoint new members to the court would indeed make the founders cry.
 
This piece was originally authored by Fergus M. Bordewich for Time.com and published on April 7, 2016.
 

Review of Manisha Sinha’s The Slave’s Cause
March 10th, 2016

I recently reviewed Manisha Sinha’s revelatory history of American abolitionism in her new book “The Slave’s Cause” for The Wall Street Journal. Beginning in the 1960s, a new generation of scholars recovered many aspects of abolitionism from oblivion, but until now none has attempted the kind of sweeping account that Ms. Sinha, a professor at the University of Massachusetts, Amherst, has achieved. Below are some excerpts from my review titled, “The Righteous of Our Nation.” It can be read in full at WSJ.com.

“Lucidly written, compellingly argued and based on exhaustive scholarship, “The Slave’s Cause” captures the myriad aspects of this diverse and far-ranging movement and will deservedly take its place alongside the equally magisterial works of Ira Berlin on slavery and Eric Foner on the Reconstruction Era. Ms. Sinha seems to have read just about everything ever written on the subject of antislavery, including sermons, diaries, broadsides, speeches and legal arguments by the famous and the obscure alike. It is a measure of her command of the material that even as she leads us through the deepest thickets of antebellum polemics she is rarely dull.”
 
“The first voices to oppose slavery were often lonely ones, but they were not negligible. At the end of the 17th century, the influential Puritan preacher Cotton Mather forcefully rejected arguments for racial inferiority based on skin color. Soon afterward, Mather’s contemporary Samuel Sewall, who had served as a judge during the Salem witch trials, challenged the widely held belief that Africans had been condemned to everlasting slavery by the Bible. Organized antislavery activity began with the Quakers, who held that every human being possessed a godly inner light that made enslavement a sin against God himself.”

………………..

“Even at its peak on the eve of the Civil War, the abolitionist movement was never the monolith that pro-slavery Southerners thought it to be. It always comprised an array of rivalrous groups that diverged over such matters as the public participation of women, collaboration with mainstream political parties, financial compensation for slaveholders and the use of physical force. Ms. Sinha deftly elucidates these fissures, which became especially evident when Garrisonians, who rejected the Constitution as a pro-slavery document and shunned mainstream politics, squared off against Smith and his allies, who hoped that an abolition-influenced party might triumph at the polls and who sometimes allied themselves with the Whig Party, which included slave owners in its ranks.”

………………..

“Abolitionists for the most part challenged rather than shored up the status quo,” Ms. Sinha writes. Thus they contributed to a variety of causes, not only women’s rights but also temperance, the campaign against capital punishment, and immigrants’ and workingmen’s rights. But the “enduring heritage of the abolition movement is even broader,” Ms. Sinha observes as she closes this watershed account of one of America’s most transformative movements. Its heritage of “unyielding commitment to human rights and a call to action,” she says, remain embedded in Americans’ stubborn desire to better society, even against long odds.”

 

Fergus and George ready to cross the Delaware
February 27th, 2016

Fergus and Washington

Fergus standing with His Excellency at Washington’s Crossing.

Thanks to the folks at Washington Crossing Historic Park in PA, Washington Crossing Park Assoc in NJ, Labyrinth Books of Princeton, Farley’s Bookshop of New Hope, and Frank and Patty Lyons of Yardley, PA’s Continental Tavern for hosting me and sharing these photos. The event was a great success and we had a fine dinner at the Continental Tavern.

 

 

 

Fergus and The First Congress

Fergus discussing The First Congress.

Fergus speaks at Washington's Crossing

Fergus speaking about The First Congress at Washington's Crossing.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Even Presidents Forget to Return Library Books
February 18th, 2016

Who knew that the first president was a library book scofflaw? My friend David Smith, formerly of the New York Public Library, just forwarded to me this fascinating story. The report is a couple of years old, but it’s new to me. It tells us something about the intellectual bent of a man who felt embarrassed by his lack of higher education. In my book The First Congress, I have also written in a light vein about the reading habits of the founders. While others were poring over such serious works as Gibbon’s Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, Alexander Hamilton was reading the steamy-sounding Amours of Count Palviano and Eleanora.

Fine owed by George Washington for overdue library books now $300,000
 
Founder of a nation, trouncer of the English, God-fearing family man: all in all, George Washington has enjoyed a pretty decent reputation. Until now, that is.
 
The hero who crossed the Delaware river may not have been quite so squeaky clean when it came to borrowing library books.

 
Continue reading at The Guardian.
 

A President’s Day Story: The Inauguration of George Washington, America’s First President
February 15th, 2016

After the members of Congress had reassembled, Washington began to read the speech that Madison had drafted for him weeks earlier. “I was looking upon an organ of popular will just beginning to breathe the breath of life,” one onlooker recalled almost half a century later.
 
It was obvious that the president, whose mere presence awed nearly every American, was nearly paralyzed by anxiety. In contrast to Humphreys’s earlier, overloaded draft, the speech that Madison had shaped was lucid and reassuring. “The magnitude and difficulty of the trust to which the voice of the country called me,” Washington told the assembled members of Congress, “could not but overwhelm with despondence, one, who, inheriting inferior endowments from nature and unpractised in the duties of civil administration, ought to be peculiarly conscious of his own deficiencies.”
 
The weight of history lay on their collective shoulders, he reminded them. “The destiny of the Republican model of Government” was deeply, perhaps for all time, staked on “the experiment entrusted to the hands of the American people.” That is, how they performed in these first sessions of Congress would affect not just themselves, and the voters who had elected them, but untold future generations.
 
Accentuating his willingness to defer to the legislative branch, he observed that while the Constitution had empowered the president to recommend whatever measures he deemed necessary and expedient, it would be “far more congenial with the feelings which actuate me to substitute, in place of a recommendation of particular measures, the tribute that is due to the talents, the rectitude, and the patriotism which adorn the characters selected to devise and adopt them” – the members of Congress. Here he was clearly acknowledging that he recognized Congress as the paramount branch of government.
 
The pressure on Washington was immense, and public expectations so high that he could never fully satisfy them, he knew. The president-to-be had received any number of importunate pleas from men such as John Armstrong Jr., a former member of the Continental Congress, who had begged him “to yield your services to the providential voice of God expressed in the voice of your country.” (Armstrong may have been one of the less convincing voices, however: at the end of the Revolutionary War, he had written the infamous Newburgh Address, which urged Washington to assume dictatorial powers.)
 
So many conflicting worries tore at Washington, both political and personal: the unrest on the frontier and the financial instability in the states, the resurgence of the Constitution’s opponents in Virginia, the planting schedules for his next season’s crops of wheat and rye, the challenge of managing the remote lands he owned in the West, the declining health of his eighty-year-old mother, who was dying of cancer at Fredericksburg. And now he was about to shoulder the unprecedented burdens of the presidency.
 
To his neighbor Samuel Vaughn he confessed, as he doubtless did to Madison, “The event which I have long dreaded, I am at last constrained to believe, is now likely to happen. From the moment, when the necessity had become more apparent, and as it were inevitable, I anticipated in a heart filled with distress, the ten thousand embarrassments, perplexities and troubles to which I must again be exposed in the evening of a life, already near consumed in public cares.”
 
The panorama, Washington later wrote, “filled my mind with sensations as painful (considering the reverse of this scene, which may be the case after all my labors to do good) as any New Yorkers held him personally responsible for losing their city to the British in the they are pleasing.”
 
It was Washington’s first trip back to New York since the end of the war. If any New Yorkers held him personally responsible for losing their city to the British in the catastrophic battle of Long Island, they had clearly forgiven. He was filled with trepidation: all his sacrifices, the years of war and political struggle, the great experiment upon which the nation was about to embark – it might yet collapse into fiasco, and come to nothing. At fifty-seven the aging war hero, a giant by the standards of his time, with his great beak of a nose, broad shoulders, and massive thighs that seemed to have been crafted by the Almighty to fit the back of a horse, was a living demigod. During the war, he had exhibited superhuman stoicism through the years of brutal winters, hunger, battlefield defeat, and civilian disaffection.
 
This article draws upon Chapter 3: A New Era, in my new book, The First Congress.
 

The Wall Street Journal Reviews The First Congress
February 14th, 2016

The Wall Street Journal’s Mark Spencer reviews The First Congress in a piece titled “Calling the House to Order.”
 
Spencer writes, “Mr. Bordewich’s account is well worth reading and brings to life the First Congress and its members. Gracefully written, his narrative weaves in much about the members’ day-to-day lives. One learns interesting details about where they resided; with whom they dined; what they ate, and drank; their states of health, and many illnesses; diversions; reading habits and so on.”
 
An excerpt from the article is below and it’s available in full at The Wall Street Journal here. Learn more about my new book, The First Congress, here.

Calling the House to Order | By Mark Spencer
 
‘We are in a wilderness without a single footstep to guide us,” James Madison said of the harrowing task facing the First Congress assembled at Federal Hall, its temporary home in New York City. While historians write much about the ideological origins of the Declaration of Independence (1776) and the drafting of the Constitution (1787), the First Federal Congress (1789-91) gets short shrift. That is unfortunate. While the Revolution launched America’s political experiment and the Constitution provided a theory and a mode of government, the First Congress defined how American government would work in practice. Many of the questions it faced, Fergus M. Bordewich notes, were vast in scope: “Was the president to have independent power? Or was he to be a figurehead, an agent of Congress? Where did the power of government lie? Was the Senate an executive body or a legislative one? How were the powers of the two branches to be reconciled?” Nobody knew. Mr. Bordewich guides us through the answers in “The First Congress: How James Madison, George Washington, and a Group of Extraordinary Men Invented the Government.”
 
Center stage in this story are Congress’s 95 members. They included Fisher Ames of Massachusetts, the “American Demosthenes;” Elias Boudinot of New Jersey, “one of the House of Representatives’ most respected members;” Robert Morris of Pennsylvania, “a hardheaded businessman and no sentimentalist;” and Virginia’s Madison, about whom Mr. Bordewich writes, “no man contributed more to the achievements of the First Congress.” Others also played prominent roles in the creation of a practical government: President George Washington; Vice President John Adams; various cabinet ministers, particularly Treasury Secretary Alexander Hamilton and Secretary of State Thomas Jefferson; and miscellaneous lesser figures such as Alexander McGillivray, “the remarkable” Creek chief who was “the son of a Scottish trader and a mixed French-Indian mother.” An unlikely hero, of sorts, was the “rigid, thick-skinned, and socially maladroit” Sen. William Maclay of Pennsylvania, who kept a diary of the Congress’s daily proceedings. For many debates, his cranky voice is the only record.

 
Continue reading at The Wall Street Journal.
 

NYT Covers The First Congress: City History, and Vantages, Often Overlooked
February 9th, 2016

This past weekend, in a column about my new book “The First Congress,” New York Times writer Sam Roberts picked up on the fact that the First Congress is also a New York story. When Congress met there, in 1789-1790, nearly all Manhattan Island was still farmland. But the city’s sophistication seemed like a trap to many members, who worried that they might never be able to pry the national capital away. (Sam Roberts is also the author of “Grand Central: How a Train Station Transformed America” — well worth reading.)

Read the full article titled “City History, and Vantages, Often Overlooked” by Sam Roberts here. The First Congress will be out tomorrow as well and you can find it here.

“America begins in New York,” Kenneth T. Jackson, the Columbia University professor and editor of the Encyclopedia of New York City, likes to say. Now comes the journalist and author Fergus M. Bordewich to engagingly revive the forgotten story of the nearly 18 months that New York was the nation’s first capital in “The First Congress: How James Madison, George Washington and a Group of Extraordinary Men Invented the Government” (Simon & Schuster, $30).

As the author instructively recalls, that first Congress fleshed out the bare bones of the recently ratified Constitution in two sessions that were probably the most productive in its history — a claim vindicated through prodigious research by the First Federal Congress Project at George Washington University.

Congressmen, representing only 11 states, convened at Peter Charles L’Enfant’s renovated Federal Hall downtown. These learned men loftily managed to compromise on most issues (though closing their eyes to others, like the slave market practically across the street) while enduring the clatter of horse-drawn traffic outside their windows and the noise of insatiable spectators cracking nuts in the public gallery of the House of Representatives.

 

Can Calhoun, Waive Wilson
January 9th, 2016

Woodrow Wilson was an unadulterated racist. Princeton students who are demanding the removal of his name from everything named after him at the university he served as president are right to point it out. Born in Virginia in 1856, and raised in Georgia and South Carolina during the Civil War and the repressive Jim Crow years that followed it, Wilson absorbed southern bigotry as a birthright. As Princeton’s president, he made clear that he would welcome no black applicants. As president of the United States from 1913 to 1919, he oversaw the racial segregation of the federal civil service. Segregation, he asserted, “was not a humiliation but a benefit” for blacks. He also held a White House screening of “Birth of a Nation”, praising its degrading portrayal of blacks and romanticization of the Ku Klux Klan as depictions of reality. Although the Klan’s resurgence after the film’s release cannot be blamed on Wilson, his approval of it doubtless lent encouragement to its activities.

Wilson is now the latest target in proliferating demands to topple monuments and reputations that honor long dead Americans tainted by racism. Students at Yale are engaged in a similar, much publicized campaign to remove John C. Calhoun’s name from one of the university’s undergraduate colleges. A former vice president, and a senator who was a member of the “Great Triumvirate” that also included Daniel Webster and Henry Clay, Calhoun, who died in 1850, regarded African-Americans as fundamentally “low, degraded, and savage.” He adored slavery and defended it tenaciously, declaring that it ennobled masters and slaves alike, and formed the foundation of true republicanism, by creating the affluence and leisure for white men to engage in self-government.

His advocacy for slavery was accompanied by a broader disdain for mass democracy  and its basic freedoms, even for white men, which he claimed led only to “violence, injustice, and anarchy.” He mocked the assertion of the Declaration of Independence that all men were born free and equal, declaring, “There is not a word of truth in the whole proposition,” adding that “the attempt to carry into practice this, the most dangerous of all political error…has done more to retard the cause of liberty and civilization than all other causes combined.” He advocated that police powers, and censorship of both speech and the press be imposed on the rest of the country to silence slavery’s enemies, and actively fostered, if he did not invent, the South’s antebellum narrative of perpetual resentment and grievance. At a time when Congress was gridlocked and Civil War threatened, in 1850, he stood out among his contemporaries as the leading enemy of compromise.

Calhoun’s legacy remains a vital if too little acknowledged part of American politics today. It survives in appeals to racism cloaked in anodyne present-day appeals to “states rights,” in the continued devaluation of black lives, and in the kind of cultural purism that wishes to build walls against immigrants in the guise of patriotism and “self-defense.”  Calhoun of course cannot be blamed for every retrograde tendency in twenty-first century American politics. But nor should his ghostly influence be underestimated.

Wilson’s record pales beside Calhoun’s contempt not only for blacks but also for basic democratic values. Although Wilson’s policies on race were shameful, they must be balanced against his commitment to political reform, which resulted in the passage of a raft of progressive legislation – the Federal Reserve Act, creation of the Federal Trade Commission, the Federal Farm Loan Act, the Nineteenth Amendment giving women the right to vote, and much more – as well as his advocacy for the League of Nations and self-determination of the world’s oppressed colonial minorities. His contributions to the liberalization of American government and to the export of America’s higher political values were significant and lasting. Calhoun, by contrast, did more than any other American politician in history to sow suspicion of the federal government, to undermine democracy, and to rationalize authoritarian tendencies in the United States.

It may prove relatively easy to remove Calhoun’s his name from the college that bears it. But it will not scrub his reactionary legacy from the body politic. The more difficult challenge is to confront the pernicious thinking that he championed and that Wilson was heir to. Princeton students, and the rest of us, will benefit more from a fully rounded understanding of Wilson, who illustrates disturbingly but not all that uncommonly how racism can coexist alongside the highest idealism. He deserves to retain his place in the American political pantheon, tainted though it may be: Calhoun does not.

 

Fergus, Zooey Deschanel, and the Underground Railroad
September 4th, 2013

I RECENTLY had the pleasure of appearing with the multi-talented young actress Zooey Deschanel in a fascinating episode of Who Do You Think You Are?—which has been airing this summer on The Learning Channel (TLC).

Each episode of this extremely well-researched and entertaining show delves into the ancestry of a celebrity, and the history of the periods in which his or her forbears lived, usually with surprising results. Zooey discovered that she was directly descended from a Quaker who was active in the Underground Railroad, and played a central role in one of the most dramatic events of the pre-Civil-War era, the so-called Christiana Riot of 1851. In this violent episode, which is also known as the Christiana Resistance, defiant African-Americans drove off a posse of slave hunters and federal lawmen who were attempting to recapture two fugitive slaves who had been living peacefully for years in a quiet Pennsylvania hamlet. During the fight, slave owner Edward Gorsuch was killed, and other members of posse fled. Scores of African Americans were later charged with treason for daring to resist the Fugitive Slave Law, the largest treason indictment in American history. Thanks to the courage and quick thinking of Zooey’s ancestor, however, the leaders of the black resistance managed to escape to Canada.

I was asked to participate in the production as an expert on the Underground Railroad, based on my book Bound for Canaan, which includes an account of the events at Christiana.

We filmed on an unseasonably frigid day in Lancaster County, just a few miles north of the Maryland state line. Zooey, who was both charming to meet in person and much better dressed for the cold than I was, was learning about her family’s connection to these events for the first time as we talked and walked across the site of the confrontation. Although all traces of the house that once stood at the center of the battle have disappeared, the surrounding landscape remains almost completely unchanged after more than a century and a half. It was easy for us to evoke the sights and sounds of a collision between antislavery and proslavery Americans that was once as famous as John Brown’s raid.